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Damen sat at the back of the class out of courtesy. He was…larger than his classmates, to put it simply. However because the back of the class was typically where the “self-privileged idiots” sit, he had been blacklisted by the residential genius.
Laurent auVere, and those were his words.
Damen accepted the quiz from the professor and took one glance at it before his eyes flicked up to the blond head sitting by the window. It was like the universe was amplifying his embarrassment, illuminating that golden head. Damen would have condemned Laurent the moment he heard his last name during roll call; it was no secret the auVeres were granted free admission to the university since they were the richest family within hundreds of miles. But it had been an immensely pleasant surprise when Damen met the eldest auVere, Auguste, on the lacross field, and he had laughed merrily at Damen’s taunt over how his first name was as cocky as his surname.
It was therefore a gut wrenching pitfall when the younger brother revealed himself to be the complete opposite of Auguste.
Auguste was incredible on the field; the best practices were scrimmages where the team was divided and Damen and Auguste were opposing captains. They made each other better, and had a damn good time in their leisure hours together. Academically, he was certainly intelligent in his own way, but it was a carefree “I like to meet challenges and conquer them as they come” sort of way. His adaptation was his genius, whereas his brother’s was in the books.
As was evident by how he was already in the same year as Damen and Auguste.
He waited for class to finish, intermittently sending glares at that fiery gold head until the professor dismissed them and he jettisoned out the door. Auguste was looking at his phone when Damen sat opposite him in the dining hall.
“Lau got a hundred and ten on his quiz,” he smiled smugly. Damen peered at him with the sort of dubious expression one would pose at someone calling a cobra cute as it bit them. The auVeres’ first language was not English, but it only became apparent when Auguste’s accent softened the way he said his brother’s name. It was the reason he had no trouble with the women on campus.
He put his phone down. “What about you? That was what you were studying for last night, right?”
Damen still had the paper in his hand, which he turned over for him to see. “Eighty-nine,” Auguste read. “That’s not bad!”
“It’s not enough,” Damen disagreed.
“Daddy’s putting pressure on you?” Auguste guessed as he shoveled potatoes au gratin into his mouth.
“Yours doesn’t?” Damen sighed, scooping his own potatoes onto his fork but letting it rest on his plate.
Auguste laughed, “That’s because our mother runs the household. Have I ever told you what she did to our uncle?”
“No?” Damen said, having more of an appetite for the fresh made donuts he had put on his tray at the last minute.
“Hm,” Auguste paused. “It’s not my story to tell. Let’s just leave it at the fact that it didn’t matter if he was her brother-in-law. And our father had no privilege to argue.”
Damen chuckled. “Skeletons in the auVeres’ closet?”
“I’d tell you, but then I’d have to add you to the collection,” Auguste said…a bit too calmly.
It was when Damen reached across the table for the box of napkins that Auguste suddenly spoke softly in French. Damen understood the language well enough but there was only one person Auguste spoke to like that, much to his admirers’ disappointment.
“Congratulations on the test. Will you sit with me as a reward?”
Damen gaped at the expression on Laurent’s face. He looked every bit like a younger brother being the focus of a joke. “Why is sitting with you a reward? I came to return your calculator. What are you staring at?”
Auguste followed his gaze to Damen, whose mouth was full of donut. “You’re just pretty from the front.” he said without missing a beat.
Laurent looked disgusted while Auguste guffawed. “It runs in the family! Embrace me.”
Laurent made a disgusted sound as Auguste hugged around his middle and asked him in French when he would be home, and general family matters. Damen was simultaneously baffled and puzzled every time he saw the brothers interact. Laurent gave every appearance of merely tolerating Auguste, but he had also been to every lacross game and practice as well, even if it meant having his textbooks draped across his lap or his nose so deep in novels the size of his face that it was a wonder he knew who had won.
Auguste watched his brother leave and Damen was finally digging into his meal when the former announced, “Unpopular opinion: you should ask Laurent to tutor you.”
Damen’s eyes lifted in a glare. “Unpopular because it’s stupid.”
“What’s stupid is not getting help,” Auguste contradicted.
“I guess you haven’t noticed, but Laurent isn’t fond of me,” Damen reminded.
For some reason, Auguste grinned. “Big, darling Damianos has forgotten how to swoon the fair lads.”
Damen felt his eyes threaten to fall out of his head as he glanced around. “My mother uses my full name when I have a death wish, I don’t appreciate the same coming from you.”
“Oh Laurent is hardly murderous.” But then Auguste’s expression twisted as if he had just thought otherwise. “What are the consequences of you not meeting your father’s expectations?”
“As of right now, my mother has persuaded him to let me pursue my own educational interests, but if I do not uphold his standards, I have to leave university and work alongside him.”
“Hm,” Auguste processed. “So if you manage to be the best at whatever you’re doing, he will stand by, unhappy, but silent.”
“Best case scenario, yes,” Damen agreed. “Laurent’s obviously put me out of the running for academia, but besting his brother isn’t so bad.”
“Ha,” Auguste jested. “You’ll have to settle for second to the auVeres, but that’s what you get for attending our school.”
“Which my brother likes to gloat over,” Damen admitted.
Auguste stared at something over his head, the end of his fork tapping the table until Damen finally inquired, “What?”
“I’m considering trading your pawn for my queen…but the queen will be mightily upset.”
“What?” he said, deadpan.
“I’m not fool enough to think Lau will tutor you just because a handsome face asked nicely.”
“Obviously,” Damen agreed.
“I meant my face,” Auguste corrected.
“I’m going to kick your ass at practice tonight.”
“No, no, hear me out,” he laughed. “Laurent will know immediately I told you this, but honesty is the best policy with him, anyways. Cupcakes.”
It took a moment for Damen to swallow his potatoes before he could repeat, “Cupcakes?”
“Cupcakes,” Auguste nodded. “He adores them. Any cupcakes. But for the love of god, don’t buy him tarts. You’ll never hear the end of it. Promise him a never-ending supply of cakes, and he’ll get you to the top of the class. Specifically from the Sweetheart Convegionery.”
Damen perked up. “The vegan bakery? He’s vegan?”
Auguste rolled his eyes. “Not exactly. It’s a long story. Our family owns an equestrian club, Laurent had a pony, he discovered what gelatin is—as I said, stick to cupcakes.”
Damen’s eyebrows reached for his hairline as he barely restrained his laughter. He suddenly felt much more interested in getting more time with the school’s beautiful genius.
* * * * * * *
“Hello, Laurent.”
The blonde was statuesque, slowly lifting his eyes from the book in his hands. He looked ready to decapitate the person interrupting his reading. “Hello?”
“I’m friends with your brother. And we’re in the same class,” Damen reminded.
“I am aware.”
Honesty is the best policy with him, Auguste had said, but Damen reckoned that meant less seduction and more blunt proposals.
“I need your help with physics. The calculus portion is giving me difficulty.”
Laurent frowned at him and looked back down at his pages. “For this level of physics, you had to take calculus first.”
“Which I did,” Damen said as he sat down beside him. Laurent’s eyes dragged from his book, over Damen’s legs, and then met his eyes. “However the Squeeze Principle was something I never mastered.”
Laurent’s opinion of him was evident on his face. “That’s a basic theorem.”
“Sometimes the easiest things are overlooked.”
“What do you want?”
It was Damen’s turn to frown. “I’d like you to tutor me for a while? Did that not come across?”
“I’m not stupid,” Laurent snapped, though his voice was soft. “Take your pranks and jests someplace else.”
“I’m not joking, and this isn’t a prank,” Damen defended. “Why would you think so?”
“Because those are what idiots find amusing.”
Damen took a moment to inhale and sighed, “I’m not as good as you, but I’m riding a B+ in the class right now, so I’m not completely wasting your time. I need that to be ten points higher.”
“It will take three perfect tests to do that,” Laurent said easily. “Two if you get all the extra credit right.”
“You’re right,” Damen nodded.
“Why should I give you the minimum of a month of my time?” His eyes returned to the pages.
“An annoying bird told me you could be enticed to do so.”
“Eat shit, Damianos,” he uttered without looking up from his book.
Damen’s features steeled. “I’ll buy you a baker’s dozen every week you tutor me.”
Those tawny lashes lifted. “Done.”
* * * * * * *
Auguste attended their first tutoring session. Initially Damen thought it was both to watch him suffer as well as to morally support his brother, but as he flicked open the cupcake box with relish, Damen realized the real reason.
“If you’re treating, I’m eating,” he had said smugly, and then Damen had the unique experience of watching the brothers simultaneously shove entire cupcakes into their mouths. Laurent wiped icing off his lips while his other hand tapped Damen’s textbook. “Allphit.”
Damen’s eyes widened. “All of it?”
He swallowed. “How else will you improve?”
Damen knew ruthless education, but Laurent was something else. And so he opened his book to the first page, and began.
As the month progressed, though, he could not say he was not learning anything. Laurent already had a terse way of getting his points across, but this proved to be an incredible skill of communication. Laurent explained theorems and equations better than any book or professor Damen had ever had. This made their tutoring sessions more so hours of Damen hammering the material into his brain like muscle memory while Laurent read and ate his fill.
That in itself was not without its learning curve. Damen discovered that Laurent liked supernatural series, namely Anne Rice, George R.R. Martin, and Tolkien. Dragons, and warriors, and grandiose adventures.
Damen once got out of doing an entire chapter’s worth of problems as he partook in a cupcake and watched Laurent not only start Interview with a Vampire, but finish it, and immediately picked up its sequel, The Vampire Lestat. Damen almost asked if Laurent felt a kindred spirit in the volumes’ obnoxious and flamboyant protagonist, but thought better of it. Instead, he asked Auguste, who laughed.
“Those are his favorite. He’s read them seven times, at least. It’s Louis he likes.”
“Louis?” Damen frowned, not remembering the character.
Auguste got that unnerving grin on his face again. “Green eyes. Soft, dark curls. All heart and no brains, and steadfast to a fault. If your eyes were green, he’d have married you by now.”
Damen blinked, processing that. Although it was not until after lunch that he blurted out the epiphany, “Laurent likes men?”
“He tolerates them,” Auguste corrected, “as he tolerates most people.”
Damen sighed. AuVeres were insufferable. “Just answer the damn question.”
Auguste shrugged as he slid his tray into the dish pit, Damen following suit. “All I’ll say is that he prefers the company of lesbians than regular women. He doesn’t like the pawing and the flirting that comes with having a nice face.”
“Wow,” Damen said to himself as he felt the warm sun on his face outside. “Vegan, cupcakes, and gay. The princess is almost human.”
He felt Auguste stop and did the same. “Do I need to remind your bisexual ass that I’ll kick your teeth in if you lead him on?”
Without missing a second, Damen sassed, “I thought I was your friend. At the very least I’ll get a black eye and keep my teeth. And I don’t lead anybody on. If anything, I’m overzealous and get shot down—wait.”
Auguste rolled his eyes and left Damen behind him as he sputtered, “Laurent—he—does Laurent like me?”
“Good lord, you are an idiot.”
“Answer the question!” Damen caught up to him.
“You’d think with all your drooling, you’d have actually noticed that my brother doesn’t have to sit in on all your tutoring sessions. He could just give you homework and leave.”
“But he never gave any hint—”
“Not like you would have noticed,” Auguste laughed over his shoulder. “Laurent’s not the best at courting. His mouth is sharp but his heart is gentle, so as I said, if you fuck with it, you’ll find yourself paying for a fancy set of dentures.”
Far from perturbed, Damen said, “I can’t tell if I have your blessing or not.”
Auguste laughed and shoved him toward the lacross field. “It’s not my permission you need.”
* * * * * * *
“What is your favorite flavor?”
Laurent paused in his opening of the fresh cupcake box. “Pardon?”
Damen nodded at the box. “Favorite flavor. Do you have one or two?”
One of Laurent’s brows lifted. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I like the chocolate-chocolate chip and the crème brulee—why are you looking at me like that?”
“You wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t want something.”
Normally when Damen looked at Laurent as he did now, there was a book between them and Laurent did not notice. Now he visibly moved as if someone had pushed on his chest; he appeared vulnerable and uncomfortable with it.
“I’m sorry someone’s abused your trust like that. I just wanted to know, since it’s all I’ve seen you eat.”
Far from the beautiful asshole that he usually was, Laurent was…ruffled. “Um,” he croaked. “I don’t know. This one and this one are what I usually start with.”
He pointed to a vanilla with the brightest hot pink icing as well as the red velvet. Damen noted it to memory and then asked, “Do you start with the best or save it for last?”
“Depends,” Laurent said, still guarded.
“I like to save it for last,” Damen shrugged, leaning forward to see into the box. “Leaves more of a lasting good impression.”
Laurent frowned. “Why do I feel like you’re talking about something else?”
“Oh?” he laughed gently, not to spook him. “I’m flattered if you’re insinuating I’m the best. As for these, I’d finish with this one—”
Damen’s hand was knocked aside from the crème brulee and its hard, caramelized drippings over the fluffy icing. Knocked, more like pushed. Gently. By deft fingers warmer than what he expected. Damen smiled, “Is this one your favorite too? We’ll have to fight for it, won’t we?”
“You’re a barbarian,” Laurent disagreed. “We split it like decent people. I, however, keep the hard sugar.”
“But of course,” Damen said, making no suggestion that he was the one who had bought them in the first place. He watched Laurent get up and retrieve one of the dining hall’s knives. “Take care,” he warned teasingly, even though the knives could barely cut apples.
Laurent glared at him. “You’re more suited for a blunt instrument like this.”
“I’m more suited for that larger half,” Damen contrasted.
“Indeed,” he agreed. “I imagine it takes a great deal of energy to operate your massive form.”
“I admit to larger than most, but not massive.”
“I heard someone call you a giant animal,” Laurent chimed as if the memory was fond. And then Damen felt the air stop in his lungs, because Laurent was laughing. “I think,” he giggled, “it was someone who had lost to you last semester.”
“Lost?” Damen queried.
“I don’t know the details,” Laurent shook his head. “Some woman chose you over him. I think they fancy your arms.”
“Oh, my arms, then,” Damen nodded, accepting his half. He watched Laurent raise the crispy caramelized sugar to his lips—and then snatched it from his fingertips. Laurent gaped as the morsel vanished behind Damen’s lips. “It is fortunate, though, that I had the sense to not play a worse collision sport than the one I do now. I’m not interested in concussions or breaking my face.”
“Knowing what few assets you have does not make you brilliant,” Laurent disagreed, staring angrily at those lips.
“So you like my face?”
“Not. At. The. Moment,” Laurent growled.
Damen had the grace to not laugh as he traded halves once more. “You can have the bigger side,” was all he said.
However it was in fact the larger half he tasted, for Laurent shoved it in his face as he left the dining hall.
* * * * * * *
Auguste was doing a good show at being a puppy playing dead. He clutched his stomach, his lacross gear clattering. “Oh…you did what?”
Damen sighed, “Spare me your theatrics.”
“Oohh,” Auguste lamented, falling outright onto the grass. “Second hand embarrassment aches.”
“Could you get up?” Damen growled, glancing at the stands around them. By some miracle Laurent was not in his customary seat yet.
“No, no, once I’m done sympathizing for you, I’m going to laugh in your face, be patient,” Auguste said from the grass.
Damen was only saved by their coach arriving and ordering warm-ups. Auguste caught up with him as they were running laps around the field. “So what is your plan of action?”
“Grovel on my knees, maybe.”
“Oh!” Auguste sang with glee. “I didn’t know you liked him that much.”
“He has his moments,” Damen admitted, his eyes darting once toward the stands. Laurent had arrived, and was sitting with his feet on the seat in front of him, slouching with the book at eye level on his knees.
Auguste laughed, “I should have guessed you were a masochist by the way you let me beat you so often.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” said a voice behind them.
“Don’t worry about it, Nik,” Damen calmed.
“He has a crush who doesn’t fall into his bed with a wink,” Auguste explained.
“And it’s your brother?” Nik had picked up. He looked over at the man in question. “Standoffish, isn’t he?”
“Thank you for putting it kindly,” Auguste said.
“Well I won’t say Damen has lowered his standards,” he sassed. “But he liked you first.”
“Really?” Auguste grinned like a fool. “I’m flattered!”
“But then I beat you at our first scrimmage and your luster wore off,” Damen remarked.
Their coach gave them their next command, so they were not able to speak again until after practice. Damen and Nik were walking together off the field toward the locker rooms when the latter said, “Do you really like Laurent auVere?”
“Heaven help me, I think I do.”
“You only think?” Nik said dubiously. “You ought to know if you’re going to trouble yourself over that one.”
“I think my energy is going somewhere,” Damen reassured.
“How do you know?” Nik looked behind them before they entered the athletics building. Auguste was speaking to Laurent over the fence around the field.
“Because I got my grades up two weeks ago, but Laurent’s still tutoring me,” Damen said. “And Laurent knows that. He’s not shy about what he dislikes. Why else would he still be dealing with me?”
* * * * * * *
“Would you like to go, sweetheart?”
Laurent had been pulling back one of the dining hall chairs, but it caught on the carpet at the right time and he lurched forward. “What?”
Damen’s brows lifted. “Would you like to go to Sweetheart? The bakery? I didn’t have time to go before this. We can study there.”
Laurent suddenly looked as if he had been running, cheeks flushed and his eyes shiny. “Fine.”
Damen watched him turned sharply and lead the way out of the dining hall. His chest felt warm all at once and he bowed his head to hide his smile.
The Sweetheart Convegionery was just down the street from the campus, so they walked over and were greeted by the shop’s owner: an athletic woman with a braid falling as far as her rear and colorful sleeve tattoos.
“Ah. You.”
“Hi, Halle,” Damen smiled. She was stern though her eyes were soft. “Finally you brought him in. My girls need proof they should stop swooning over you.”
“Proof,” Laurent absorbed. Those sharp blue eyes tilted up at Damen.
“Don’t worry about it,” he disregarded. “Pick what you want.”
Halle already had a large box with cupcake dividers ready as Laurent bent to see inside the display case. “He’s paying,” Laurent said pointedly as she handed it over.
“I know,” she remarked. “You getting something else for a change?”
“Actually,” Damen said, his eyes on the cake stand featuring their newer items. “Can I have two of those green ones?”
She traded the boxed pastries for his card and Damen sat with Laurent at one of the outside tables. He eyed the six crème brulee cupcakes. “Does this make us even?”
“No,” Laurent answered easily as he unwrapped a vanilla with turquoise icing—and then stopped. “What have you done?”
Damen looked at him and then followed his eyes down to his notebook and pen, expecting there to be an ink leak. Instead there was only a kiwi tart resting on his textbook. “What?”
“A tart? You bought tarts?” Laurent reiterated with disgust.
“Oh,” Damen realized. “But these are vegan like everything else. There’s no gelatin—”
“It’s jam in a cup!” Laurent stormed. “What sacrilege—”
Damen’s heart dropped as Laurent rose to leave the table, only to fall back down as someone quite literally fell into his lap. “Who’s he?” a brunette as pretty as Laurent but younger and visibly ruder said. He had a number of cartilage piercings and clearly preferred the color blue, if the rhinestones were any indication.
“What are you doing here?” Laurent asked in French.
“I came to visit. What, I’m not allowed?” the boy said as he draped his arms over Laurent’s shoulders.
“Is there an auVere I don’t know about?” Damen asked, earning a wide-eyed look from the boy.
“My brother, Nicaise,” Laurent introduced begrudgingly, and then weathered the youth pulling him cheek to cheek.
“I’m adopted,” Nicaise chimed.
Damen nodded his understanding. “Congratulations.”
Nicaise frowned at him, critical eyes examining him before he turned to Laurent. “This is the one you like?”
“Hush,” Laurent stared evenly.
“He doesn’t like me very much right now,” Damen said, resting his head on his fist. Nicaise absorbed this and then his dark blue eyes fell on the tarts. The naïve rudeness left his features, replaced by a stoicism far too advanced for his years.
“My first father liked tarts,” he said, and reached over for the one on his textbook. He bit into it, eyes level with Damen’s. “He choked on it.”
“Nicaise,” Laurent hushed softly.
He hugged Laurent close again, his mood back to snide. “I’ll tolerate you because he likes you. Otherwise it’s a race between me and Auguste to end you.”
To both of their surprise, Damen laughed. “It is an honor to be tolerated by such a loving family.”
A sleek, dark brow lifted. “You’re weird. I’m taking Lau.”
More like he was taking the cakes, which he held close as he slid off of Laurent’s lap and let tart crumbs fall past his chin. Damen silently let them go, not pushing his luck. Instead he texted Nik to join him at the bakery, and the man arrived with Auguste in tow. Nik took Laurent’s seat while Auguste pulled a chair from the other table. He took one look at the box and uneaten tart. “That explains why you’re alone.”
“No, actually,” Damen defended mildly. “Nicaise came to visit.”
“Nicaise was here?” Auguste perked up, and then slumped. “He didn’t visit me.”
“I didn’t know you had two brothers.”
“Neither did I,” Nik said.
“No offense, but neither of you knew anything about my family other than our wealth when you met me.”
Nik’s head tilted. “Fair.”
Damen realized Auguste had never invited him over to his house; their interactions were always on campus or at Damen and Nik’s place. Damen had assumed the lack of invitation had been for Laurent’s comfort, but now he wondered if it was more for the sanctum of the auVeres’ privacy.
He and Nik parted ways with Auguste to go home for the day. It was Damen’s turn to cook dinner, so he made an easy task of it with fettuccine and store bought alfredo sauce he jazzed up with extra cheese and pepperoni bits—
A knock on the door broke his attention. As Damen went to answer it, he called to Nik’s room, “Nik, you didn’t order pizza, did you?”
“Why would I when it’s your week for groceries?” the muffled voice answered.
Damen chuckled as he twisted the deadbolt, let the chain fall, and opened the door…to Laurent. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” Laurent agreed.
“I mean—”
“It’s fine,” he sighed. “Sorry, I know it’s late.”
Damen’s brows were reaching for his hairline. Laurent. Apologizing? He glanced behind him and said, “Are you hungry? It’s not vegan but I can make something—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Laurent shook his head, but he did not step inside.
“Do you…want to go for a walk?”
Laurent thought about it. “Yes.”
Damen grabbed his keys and sent a quick text to Nik as he closed the door behind him. The only times Laurent had been short of words were when he was flustered or did not care enough to speak. Damen silently led the way to the nearby park, letting Laurent work through his thoughts at his own pace.
Eventually, however, he felt he ought to be the one to speak first. “I’m sorry about the tarts. Auguste warned me but…I did not think they were as sensitive a topic as they were. I’m sorry.”
Laurent was quiet until, “I suppose it is foolish to get upset over something so small.”
“Sometimes the smaller things are the most important,” Damen understood. “Like Nicaise, for example. He is small, but I doubt it would be wise to underestimate him.”
“Hm,” Laurent hummed like his brother. “Thank you.”
“Sure.”
“No, really. You’ve shown more patience than anyone outside of our family.”
“Please, it’s nothing. My family is hardly superior in terms of—”
“Take the thanks and leave it,” Laurent silenced.
“Fine, fine,” Damen laughed. “You’re welcome.”
The fine gravel crunched under their feet as they followed the path through the park. Crickets were loud around them as fireflies twinkled occasionally. One of them landed on Laurent’s shirt, which he scooped onto his finger and held aloft for the creature to drift elsewhere.
“Thank you for coming over.”
Laurent looked at him as gravel gave way to the tiled pathways of the park’s gardens. A fountain trilled somewhere nearby. “Why?”
“Because it implies we’re friends.”
“Friends,” Laurent snorted softly. “Is that what we are?”
“I hope so,” Damen admitted.
“And what if I do not want to be friends?”
“I would say ‘why wouldn’t your partner also be your friend?’ To be with someone you do not share yourself and respect like a friend is ridiculous to me.”
Laurent laughed gently. “You’re proud to assume that’s what I meant.”
“Then tell me I am wrong,” Damen pleaded quietly.
“You’re…not wrong.”
Damen felt like he had left his heart behind them. “You need to guide me, then. You are…different territory to me.”
Laurent laughed again, and Damen felt his heart bobbing down the path to catch up to them. “Are you saying no one’s ever made you feel this way? Typical.”
“No one’s ever infuriated me more than you have, yes,” Damen shot back, earning a glare, but a kind one from Laurent. “But you make me better. Am I wrong to think I might do the same for you?”
Laurent frowned, pausing between the fountain and rose hedges to stare at him. “I don’t know what you mean. I have nothing to improve upon.”
Damen guffawed. “Humility, maybe.”
“Hm, no. I don’t need it.”
“And a tweak to your sass.”
“Others would define it as wit.”
“My thesaurus is a different edition than yours.”
“Obviously,” Laurent chuckled, and Damen joined him.
“Theoretically speaking, where would I take you for a date?”
Damen’s breath wavered in his lungs at Laurent’s pause. “To be honest…I may need as much guidance as you. As far as I know, this would be considered a date...wouldn’t it?”
Damen’s eyes widened but he restrained himself. “Well…if I knew this was a date, I would be assured I could hold your hand without being punched by the other one.”
Laurent giggled. “I never took you as shy.”
Feeling emboldened, Damen’s fingertips reached for Laurent’s, teasing and gently sliding between them. Damen swallowed the frog in his throat when Laurent squeezed his palm into place. They stayed like that, the smell of crisp roses drifting around them.
“You should know,” Laurent warned. “Integrating with my family might be…difficult.”
“If you’re worried about me being intimidated, I think Nicaise already checked that box,” Damen assured.
“I mean,” Laurent said measuredly, “my family is not powerful without its shadows. My mother and brother have brought us back into the light but…”
“My brother tried to kill me once,” Damen said without preamble. He had earned Laurent’s surprise. “You know my last name. The Akielos empire is as large as the auVeres’ and I, sadly, am not the eldest, but misfortune has made me the favorite.
“It was several years ago, and he discovered the hard way that I was both quicker and stronger than him, but we both lived. Our father did next to nothing to quell my brother’s distaste for me. My mother did her best, but I did not want to make a war zone out of her home…so I came here. My family thought I was foolish, moving to a city where they did not have their teeth in every meat pie, but I was done with it.”
Laurent processed this and blinked, “You’re…very candid about this.”
Damen’s thumb stroked over his hand. “I don’t want you to think I’m with you for your money, or worse, that I’m unfamiliar with demons. You don’t have to tell me anything, but I want you to know the option to share yourself is within me whenever you’re ready.”
For the first time, Laurent seemed relaxed, gazing up at him without mischief or defense in his eyes. “That’s quite an offer for our first date.”
“Yes, well, I’ve been told I’m a bit much to handle,” Damen remarked. “Thus I have to ask: can you shoulder me as much as I am willing to do for you?”
Laurent grimaced. “That sounds like Valentine’s plushies and Sunday roses.”
“Don’t forget Christmas dates and Saturday mimosas,” Damen nodded. “I take romance seriously.”
“Ugh,” Laurent groaned, pivoting to continue down the path, but he did not relinquish Damen’s hand.
He pulled Laurent back. “May I ask…can I expect something else from our dates?”
Laurent’s brow furrowed, not understanding…until Damen’s other hand ran its fingertips along his jaw. “If you don’t want…I understand.”
Those long lashes flickered up at him, and then landed on his mouth. “You can be courteous…but not shy, Damianos.”
His chest rumbled as he hummed deeply. “I need to talk to you and your brother about using my name,” he said, and then kissed Laurent on the mouth.
The first was a soft peck, but when he felt the shudder of breath on his mouth, Damen tried for a second…and a third, before falling completely into Laurent’s kiss. They swayed into each other, Laurent’s hands seeking Damen’s chest as his own hand lowered for Laurent’s waist tentatively, giving him time to push it aside. Instead Laurent curled within himself, fitting inside Damen’s arm.
He lifted Laurent’s hand to rest on his shoulder or his nape, wherever Laurent wanted, while Damen’s fingers raked through wheat gold tresses, holding them from falling between their lips. Laurent let him, taking a moment to breathe and say, “Do you want to come for dinner tomorrow?”
* * * * * * *
Auguste answered the door with a sandwich in hand and his mouth full. He stared at Damen, and vice versa. “D’we haff uh date that I frgt?”
“Uh, no,” Damen laughed. “Not us, at least. I’ve been invited for dinner.”
“Move,” Laurent shoved him aside and took Damen’s hand to pull him inside. Damen gave it a squeeze while he looked around the large foyer that opened to the living room on one side and other rooms on the other. Above was a carved, dark wooded balcony guarding the bedrooms and paintings likely calculating to hundreds of thousands of dollars.
“Maman will scold you again for eating this late,” Laurent chided and then pulled Damen deeper into the house. Damen glanced behind him at Auguste ogling their hands.
“MAMAN. LAURENT BROUGHT A MAN HOME!”
“What the fuck?” Nicaise could be heard on the balcony.
A woman’s voice called, “Nicaise! Language!”
Damen laughed, greatly looking forward to dinner.