“He does?” Cain made his way into the neat, sparsely furnished kitchen, and found the makings for coffee still sitting on the counter. “But Drew said he’s working at Seaver Tech now.” He turned on the flame beneath the kettle.
“Yep.” Damon pushed himself to his feet, and Cain pretended not to notice the grimace on his face as his injured leg took his weight. “Ironic, huh?”
“Maybe,” Cain agreed as Damon shuffled towards the kitchen. He busied himself preparing the coffee grounds to keep himself from watching, and babbled on. “Though, you know, maybe that’s part of why they’re good for each other. Yin and yang. Light and dark. Tech-junkie and old-school. They balance each other.”
Damon stopped as he reached the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, and leaned on his elbows. “Christ, you’re young,” he said.
Cain lifted an eyebrow. The way Damon said the word made it sound like an insult, and it hit harder than Cain would have imagined. The number of years he’d spent on the planet had fuck-all to do with how old he felt. “I’m almost twenty-five,” he said, a bit more defensively than necessary.
“Almost! God.”
“Hey. Twenty-five is notthatyoung.” Cain shut the water off as it started to hiss and gestured threateningly at Damon with his coffee spoon. “You’d better not call me kid again.”
A snort. “Not even if that’s what you are? I’m old enough to be your father.”
“Only if you got started really,reallyyoung!”
Damon snorted again and Cain sighed. It was hard to explain how in some ways, he felt like the most bumbling, inexperienced child on the planet, while in others he felt like he’d been eroded by glaciers.
“Fine, have it your wayBig Daddy.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Damon said in disgust. “You willnotcall me that, ever.”
Giving Damon an exaggerated shrug, Cain poured the water in a slow stream over his coffee grounds. “No? Keep calling me kid and see what happens,” he challenged, and he counted it as a victory when Damon raised one eyebrow but didn’t reply.
He turned his attention to the coffee, watching it drip, giving himself a second to gather his courage. Then he grabbed the mug and leaned against the back counter, facing Damon.
The coffee smelled amazing. He took a deep sip, feeling the liquid burn a path down his throat.
Ugh.Bitter and dark, exactly the way hedidn’tlike it. Given that he usually took it extra light and sweet, this was the equivalent of running a lawn mower on jet fuel. But he’d be damned if he’d ask for cream and sugar. No doubt, in Damon’s mind, grown-ups drank their coffee black and poisonously strong.
He set the mug on the counter took a deep breath, just as Damon came into the kitchen. “Listen. I had an idea -”
“Yeah, speaking of brilliant ideas…” Damon went to the refrigerator and took out a cardboard container of cream, setting it on the counter. “I owe you athank you. And probably an apology.” He opened the cabinet above the stove and got down a little dish filled with packets of sweetener. “Cort probably has real sugar around here somewhere,” he said. “But fuck if I know where.” Cain blinked in shock and Damon rolled his eyes. “I’ve eaten squirrel with greater enthusiasm than you’re showing that coffee.”
Cain opened his mouth - to thank him or demand why the fuck he’d eaten a squirrel, he wasn’t sure which, but Damon had already moved back to his spot at the far counter, leaning his weight on his arms again. Cain wisely closed his mouth again and doctored his coffee exactly the way he liked it.Perfect.
“I screwed up last night and went off half-cocked,” Damon continued. “Wasn’t thinking.” He shook his head like he was annoyed at his own foolishness, and Cain frowned. He brought his coffee over to the counter Damon had claimed, and leaned his forearms against it too.
“Yeah, you weren’t making much sense.” He looked into Damon’s eyes, which were so close he could pick out the threads of brown and gold among the green. They looked like shattered sea glass, the green cracked open so the amber-yellow could shine through. He could watch them forever. He remembered the way Damon’s eyes had looked just before he’d leaned in and laid his lips on Cain’s…
No. That was not real.He quickly turned away.
“So does this mean you’re gonna think of a different way to get info on…him?” Cain couldn’t bring himself to saymy dad.Frankly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d really thought of the man that way, even before finding out about his ties to the Seavers’ deaths.
Damon eyed him speculatively and didn’t answer. “Want some eggs? Or toast?”
“Uh. No?” Cain cocked his head to one side. “Does this mean youarestill going with your stupid plan? Because, honestly Damon…”
Damon leaned forward and grabbed Cain’s coffee mug off the counter, holding Cain’s eyes as he took a sip. He shuddered as he swallowed. “That’s more like melted coffee ice cream than actual coffee.”
Cain would not be sidetracked by this insult to his coffee. “It’s still massively stupid. Think of Cort. Think of…”
Damon held up a silencing hand. “Cain,” he said, uncharacteristic hesitation in his deep growl. “I think what we lost sight of last night was that you and I are on very different sides when it comes to this topic. Maybe you feel responsibility to your family, to your dad, and you don’t want to come forward about what Jack told us. So let's skip the discussion about what my plans might be. That way, you won’t feel like you have to warn him.”
Shock hit Cain like a blow to the solar plexus. “You think… you think I would tell him?”
Eyes on the counter, Damon licked his lips. “I think you’d probably feel like you should.”
