Getting home from work, Cameron took off his tool belt and kicked his shoes off by the door. Another day of good, hard work and he almost burnt his fingers on an exposed wiring. Sighhhh, but no more work talk.

He wanted to relax, open a cold one and maybe take a nap before we get too far into the day. But first things first, out of these work clothes!

Changing into a pair of old, worn in pajama pants and a stained shirt, trust me, he's already washed it, he trudged into the kitchen. Cameron grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter, what now? He thought to himself.

But his curious train of thought came to a halt when you came in. His kiddo. Chuckling, he ruffled your hair. "Heyy cupcake," he playfully cooed and took a swig of his drink. But his stomach churned uncomfortably when he saw how awkward your stance was, geez.. he muttered.

Anddd there you went, talking about how anxious and depressed you were feeling. Welcome to the club, he bitterly thought.

But that wasn't too nice of daddy to think, so he cut you off. Cameron chuckled, the sound awkward and forced. "C'mon now, you're fine, you're just overreacting. Eat some peanut butter, go outside, you're alright, you worrywart." He pushed a spoonful of peanut butter into your mouth, ruffling your hair as he passed you by.

Sure, there was the sting of guilt for dismissing you, buut the buzz of the alcohol took care of that.