“Cal?”
“I keep seeing your face,” he blurts out. “There’s blood and…you’re crying.” He slides his hand down, stroking the edge of Dawson’s jaw. “I thought they were just dreams, but…”
A trembling breath tumbles out of Dawson. Slowly, he reaches for Cal’s wrist, his hold gentle and unsure as he pulls it away from his face.
“It’s okay, Cal. I’m okay.” He waits until Cal nods. It’s the only thing he can do, because he knows he’s not making sense. He’s probably just freaking Dawson out, too. “Let’s have a look at your injuries, yeah?”
Cal closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. It’s a relief when those dreadful images don’t flash in front of him as he’d feared, and he aims his focus on what Dawson’s doing. He’s gentle, so incredibly gentle as he applies some ointment to the wounds, apologizing when Cal shifts ever so slightly when it stings a little. He can feel him covering the wound and smoothing down the edges before moving onto the one on Cal’s ribcage.
“There. All done,” he says after some time, sounding strange.
Reluctantly, Cal opens his eyes. Dawson watches him expectantly, as if trying to gauge his mood. It takes all of Cal’s willpower not to reach for him again, take his face between his palms and—
“Thank you,” he breathes out, pushing up to his feet.
Putting everything back into the small bag, Dawson rises, running his gaze quickly over Cal. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
No.“I’m fine.”
Dawson looks dubious, but doesn’t argue. “Okay. Are you done here?”
“I need to brush my teeth.”
“Oh, yeah.” He nods towards the sink. ”Yours is the black one. I’ve got the blue one.” He opens the cabinet above the counter. “Everything you need is here. Floss, mouthwash, shaver.” He throws a look at Cal’s face. “If you want to shave.”
Cal scratches his beard self-consciously. In the few pictures of himself he’s seen, he has no facial hair.
He reaches for the shaver, studying the settings. At least it looks less complicated than the washing machine. “What setting should I pick?”
“You usually do clean-shaven but…” Dawson shrugs. “Up to you.”
“Do you have a preference?”
Dawson laughs, pointing at himself. “I do clean-shaven too.”
“I meant for me.”
Dawson looks at him like Cal just spoke a different language. “Uh… No. Do whatever feels good.”
Well, that’s not helpful at all.
Dawson excuses himself. Cal brushes his teeth, then picks up the shaver again. Whatever feels good, huh? Maybe it’s time to try something different. Keeping himself clean-shaven must be a lot of work, but also, the beard is kind of itchy and annoying.
He chooses setting number five first and leans over the sink as he runs the shaver over his jaw, chin and cheeks. Afterwards he looks at himself in the mirror for the longest time, running a hand over his face as he speculates if he looks good. Deciding it’s still a little long for his liking, he moves the setting to three and repeats the process.
Better,he decides after he’s done. He needs to ask Dawson what he thinks.
He finds him in the living room, frowning at the phone in his hand. He looks up when he hears Cal approach, doing a small doubletake.
“Uh…”
That doesn’t sound promising.
“What do you think?”
Blinking several times, Dawson swallows. “Um…looks good.” He gives a breathless laugh. “Stubble, huh?”
“I was just trying it. Maybe I should just stick with what I usually do and—”
