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'So, Damianos,’ Auguste says from across the table, his thick brows scrunching asymmetrically. Helena, sat next to him, stares at Damen, her assessing gaze boring into the side of his face.
'Damen,’ Damen provides awkwardly. He bites back the 'sir’ from the end of his sentence, remembering that Auguste is just a few years his senior.
It was four months ago that Damen had suggested meeting Auguste to Laurent, but Auguste’s overseas trips had kept him away from the rendezvous. When Damen had mentioned it a few weeks ago, Laurent had squashed the need, citing that there isn’t an obligation to stand on formalities and that everybody knew that the two were dating. But Damen had insisted. After getting to know Laurent for four glorious, intimate months and falling harder in love with him for it, he had wanted to do this right.
Knowing how important Auguste is in Laurent’s life and how much he values his opinion, Damen had wanted to obtain Auguste’s support to court Laurent. The thought is old-fashioned and juvenile in this day and age, Damen knows. Still, Auguste was Laurent’s only family, and with any luck, Damen wanted to wiggle his way into it.
It had seemed like a novel idea then; now, he simply wishes he had kept his mouth shut. Now, he’s stuck in a high-end restaurant with Auguste and Helena throwing disappointed glances at him, driving his uncharacteristic nervousness up the wall.
'Damianos,’ Auguste continues, ignoring Damen’s words. 'Laurent tells me you work in finance.’
'Yes,’ Damen agrees, wiping his sweaty palms on his black slacks under the table. 'I work with my father. It’s a — a family business.’
'I see,’ Auguste says with an uninterested nod. 'What do you do otherwise? When you’re not working in this… family business?’
Damen looks at Laurent next to him. The latter gives him a small smile. 'I wrestle,’ he replies, turning to Auguste, 'I am a habitual wrestler.’
‘Wrestling?’ Auguste asks, with a raise of his brows and a downward cast of his mouth, his head bobbing from side to side. Auguste turns to Helena, and the latter just shrugs, unimpressed, swallowing a mouthful of water.
Damen frets in place. His sweat is probably showing through the crispy white dress shirt he had borrowed from Nik. What if they don’t approve of him? Would Laurent leave h—
He doesn’t dare complete the thought.
Thankfully, a waiter approaches them with their appetisers, preventing the beat-long awkward silence from stretching into eternity.
This was not how Damen had envisioned the evening to go. In his mind, he had hoped to charm Helena with his confidence and bond with Auguste over their mutual love for football. The turn of events, however, was infuriatingly unexpected, with Auguste prompting him to question his life choices and Helena scrutinising how his eyes, nose, ears, and mouth sat with his face.
At least that little monster Nicaise isn’t here, accusing Damen of stealing his uncle and threatening to claw out his eyes with clay modelling sticks.
Thank God for small mercies!
Once the appetisers are served, Auguste picks up a prawn with his fork and examines it intently. For all Damen knows, the offending price of food could very well be him. 'You have to excuse me for the candour of my words, Damianos, but what are your ulterior motives in dating my brother?’
Damen is dumbfounded by the question. Damen had always prided himself on being a confident man, but now, he curses the treacherous trait for evading him at the opportune moment.
A warm hand settles on top of his under the table; it’s Laurent’s. For someone who is infamous for being emotionally inept, Laurent surprisingly knows exactly what to say or do to calm Damen.
Reassured of his feelings, Damen takes a deep breath and says, ‘I don’t have ulterior motives, Auguste. Any man would be lucky to have Laurent. He’s successful, accomplished, and gorgeous. But behind all that, he’s intelligent, kind, honest and a good man. That is the Laurent I see. If I’m lucky and if he trusts me enough to let me, I wouldn’t want anything more than a chance to prove it to him.’
Damen doesn’t dare see Laurent’s reaction now, just revels in the comfort of Laurent’s hand on his.
He seems to have said something right, because Auguste hums in agreement and places the fork down. Crossing his arms on the table, Auguste leans over and with a dangerous look in his eyes, says, ‘Listen to me very carefully, Damianos—’
‘Auguste,’ Laurent interrupts him, but Auguste silences him with a placating hand.
‘I love my little brother very much,’ Auguste continues, ‘And if you even think of breaking his heart, I will make it my life’s mission to make your life a living hell. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my little brother.’
Auguste is built as big as Damen, if not bigger. A threat from a man like him would not be flippant, Damen knows. Not that he would do anything to elicit such a reaction.
Laurent squeezes his hand where he’s holding it. Whether it’s in apology or prompting him to answer, Damen doesn’t know.
‘I expect nothing less from a man who loves his brother. I—’ A waiter, who approaches their table offering to refill the water, stops Damen from continuing. He moves sideways to allow better access to his glass, but the action only jostles the pitcher out of the man’s hands, causing most of the water to splash over the table and some of it to trickle down onto his lap.
Damen curses internally. This really must be his unlucky day.
‘Why don’t you go to the washroom and dry it off?’ Laurent suggests. The words seem to bring the waiter out of his mortification, for he apologises profusely and offers to direct Damen.
‘Alright,’ Damen sighs and gets up. Before leaving, he hesitantly leans over to Laurent and presses a gentle kiss on his cheek. Avoiding glancing at Auguste or Helena, he walks away from the table.
*
‘Auguste! Stop doing that!’ Laurent says as soon as Damen is out of earshot, torn between feeling exasperated and fond.
Auguste chuckles while Helena’s shoulders shake silently, her face twitching to break out of her barely constrained mirth.
‘What’s life without a little fun, eh? Did you see his face?’ Auguste asks, amused beyond himself.
‘Yes, I did. I was right next to him. Stop enjoying yourself so much,’ Laurent says, aiming for stern and failing miserably.
Auguste laughs and Laurent rolls his eyes. He should have expected such behaviour from his brother. If Damen had inspired such a reaction from Auguste, then he must already like his boyfriend. Still, Laurent wants to hear the words aloud. Hence, he asks, feigning nonchalance while his heart beats wildly in his chest, ‘So… Do you like him?’
‘Of course, I do. Do you think I would let him touch you otherwise?’
Of course.
Auguste leans in over the table then and, smirking with a twinkle in his eyes, asks, ‘Hey, is he that big everywhere?’
‘Auguste!’ Laurent reprimands, his voice louder and his face hotter.
The idiot only laughs harder. At least, this time, Helena has the decency to look scandalised.
_