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Damen’s fingers were constantly drumming up a chaotic rhythm against the leather of the steering wheel from the moment he had sat down in the driver’s seat.
He squeezed the steering wheel hard enough to make it creak. Trying to calm his nervous fidgeting, Damen took a big breath in and slowly let it out. But it proved to be a useless technique as, approaching the iron gates, the constant anxious buzz he had since this morning amped up a notch.
The iron gates opened, swinging aside in a slow arch.
Funny how this was only the second time Damen had actually entered the property on which Laurent’s beloved house stood tall and proud, illuminating a welcoming glow against the backdrop of navy night sky.
The sprawling, well maintained lawns and healthy growth of the flower beds gave the house a fairy tale feel; it looked well-loved. The house itself wasn’t humongous but all those big glass pane doors and French windows of the two storied house made it look all open and big. Damen thought the house must be flooded with light in daytime.
He stopped his car beside Laurent’s in the driveway, but couldn’t get himself to get out and knock on the door.
Last week, when Damen had been musing out loud about the new restaurant that had opened near the HQ, Laurent had casually dropped a dinner invitation at his house and meet Nicaise, officially. It was said so nonchalantly, Damen had to ask Laurent to repeat himself. In answer, Damen had got to witness one of those rare sights of Laurent blushing even though he was trying to play it off as annoyance.
At that moment, Damen had been on cloud nine. Laurent was letting Damen into his zealously guarded safe space: his house. He was allowing Damen to get close to his little brother for whom he could do just about everything. Laurent was opening his life up to Damen, slowly but surely.
Damen had never felt that triumphant over a dinner invitation to his boyfriend’s house. As much as he was amused by Laurent’s shyness over a dinner invitation, he was more amused with himself.
For all intents and purposes, he had always run in the opposite direction from any prospective meeting with any of his previous partner’s family. But one mention of meeting Laurent’s family, Damen was as eager as a child on Christmas morning.
But now that he was here, all he could think about was the many ways Nicaise could hate him on the first sight; or the ways he could embarrass himself in front of the teenager. Damen wasn’t hip and cool at all. He doesn’t know any slang people of Nicaise’s age uses. Just how many times was he going to put his feet in mouth tonight?
What was he even going to say to Laurent’s brother?
A knock on his car window startled Damen out of the downward spiral into the hell of panic.
Laurent gestured for him to open the passenger side door, and settled down on the seat with the effortless grace once Damen clicked open the door.
Illuminated in the soft blue light of the car dashboard, Laurent’s pale eyes seemed to take on an ethereal gleam as he faced Damen. “Do you need five more minutes?” he asked.
Alarmed, Damen scrambled to look at the time. “Have I been sitting in your driveway for five minutes?
“No, it’s more like three minutes or so but I was just asking.”
Sighing, Damen thumped his head against the headrest of the of the seat.
“Don’t tell me you’re nervous, now.”
Damen looked at him. “What gave me away? Was it me sitting in your driveway like a creep or me sitting in your driveway like a creep?”
Laurent bit down on a blooming smile, a mischievous delight making the corner of his eyes crinkle up just a little. “Option A.”
Damen closed his eyes. He didn’t know what was making his heartbeat pick up a speedier pace. “I’m glad you’re having fun at the expense of my misery.”
A short pause passed before Laurent murmured, “I’m nervous too.”
Damen’s eyes snapped open. He nearly gave himself a whiplash by the speed he turned his body to face Laurent, weirdly excited to find some company in misery. “You are?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t look like you’re having a mental break down.”
Laurent gave him an exasperated look. “You’re not having a mental break down. And if you have to know, I was on the verge of calling this whole thing off minutes ago as my brain continued to provide me with the worst-case scenarios.” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes gliding over Damen from the head to toe.
Keeping his face blank, Laurent said, “Then I saw you having an existential crisis on my driveway, so I thought one of us have to man up.”
Damen nodded, resolute. “Kicking my fragile male ego while I’m down… that’s exactly what I deserve.”
Laurent huffed out a soft laugh. That sound somehow loosened the vice grip in Damen’s chest a bit.
Smile still lingering in his voice, Laurent asked, “Is this the first time you’re meeting your… meeting the family of-”
“Partner, boyfriend, the rude jerk I can’t stop thinking about: take your pick. And to answer your question, no, but kind of yes.” Seeing Laurent’s confused look, Damen hurried to elaborate, “I’ve met Jokaste’s family but I knew them before I knew her, so that doesn’t count. And a few meet ups I’d had with my partner’s family was mostly accidental or staged.”
Laurent quirked up his eyebrow. “Staged?”
With an impatient flutter of his hands, Damen waved the topic away. “Long story, remind me to tell you later.”
“Sure will.” Entertained, Laurent said. “Okay, what’s bothering you the most?”
“I remember you saying he has a huge sweet tooth, so bought a dozen of chocolate éclair. Then I remembered that he is an athlete. Who gives chocolate éclair to an athlete? Who buys a dozen of them?” Throwing his hands up, Damen let the tiny space between them be flooded with anxious rambling, “Also, does he even like chocolate? And what would I talk to him about? What does people normally say to a teenage kid? Do I ask him about school? Do I ask him about his girlfriend? Is that allowed? Does he even like girls? I don’t want to offend him. I also don’t want him to think I’m boring, Laurent. I don’t’ want him to be ‘oh, my brother’s boyfriend is so boring. I think my brother should leave him.’-”
“Are you done?” As soon as Damen opened his mouth again, Laurent held up his hand. “Shut up for a second.”
Laurent’s lips quirked up in a smile but he viciously trampled it down, trying to call back his blank look to mask the amusement in his eyes, but Damen could see it clear as daylight.
Rolling his eyes, Damen said, “Yeah, yeah, laugh your heart out, you asshole.”
“I’m not laughing at you, I swear. It’s just… you’re wearing a three-piece suit.”
Damen looked down at himself, running a hand on his dark grey suit jacket. “It’s my lucky charm,” he mumbled.
“This suit is your lucky charm?”
“I wanted to impress him, okay? And it’s my father’s, so yeah.”
The bright smile broke free, as Laurent shook his head. “Listen, he likes everything chocolate. So, you’re good with chocolate éclair. And the fact that you remembered he likes sweets, it’s already a point in your favour.”
Damen groaned, “But I bought a dozen of them? Why did I do that?”
Laurent took Damen’s hands in his own. “I admit a dozen of them may seem a bit of overkill for a dinner party of three people but in our household, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t call him a kid and don’t treat him like one, teenagers hate that. Treat him like a normal person, with respect and talk about anything you want to, ask anything you want and I assure you, if he’s offended, he’ll let you know.”
“Oh god,” Damen whispered.
Laurent chuckled.
“And?” Damen prompted.
“And what?”
“You have nothing more to add? No ‘it’s going to be okay, Damen’? No ‘You’re overreacting for no reason’? Nothing?”
Frowning, Laurent replied, “I don’t know if it’s going to be okay, Damen,”
Head tilted heavenwards, Damen whined out, endlessly dramatic, “You’re so bad at reassuring people,”
Taking a hold of Damen’s chin, Laurent sharply jerked his head down. “I don’t know if everything is going to go smoothly, Damianos. So, I can’t promise you that. But I do know that even if everything goes to hell and we have to sit through the worst experience of our lives, I’ll still be there with you. I promise.”
Laurent closed the gap between them slowly, and placed a shy, barely-there butterfly kiss on Damen’s cheek.
Damen wrapped his hand around Laurent’s wrist, and murmured “I take it back. You’re very good at reassuring people,” into Laurent’s palm before placing a chaste kiss on it.
“Yeah, I’m perfect,” Laurent said haughtily.
Damen wanted to devour that arrogant tilt of those lush lips till neither of them could catch a breath properly. He let himself relax for the very first time in the day. He smiled at Laurent. “Yes, you kind of are.”
Laurent pushed at Damen’s cheek to turn his head in the other direction. “Shut it.”
He quickly got out of the car. Bending down, he peeked through the window, “Are you coming in?”
Damen nodded.
***
Every time Damen had imagined finally meeting Nicaise, he imagined being the victim of teenage scorn and awkward silence. But the moment Nicaise had dipped into a dramatic curtsy with a big mischievous smile adorning his face when Damen was introduced to him, Damen knew that everything was going to be just fine. Laurent’s resigned sigh told him that Damen had better accustom himself with future theatrical curtsies.
So, Damen did the next best thing: he bowed back.
Astounded, Nicaise stood still for a moment.
Being thrilled in the precious moment of catching Nicaise off guard, Damen said, “So, your brother is the only unfortunate one to draw the short height card from the gene pool, huh?”
“5’7” is a respectable height for a man. It says a lot about those who think otherwise.” Holding his head high, Nicaise mimicked Laurent’s haughty tone perfectly.
Laurent glared at them both, but there was a hint of ill-concealed relief in his eyes.
Damen burst into a rowdy laughter. “It’s so nice to meet you, finally. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
And from there, Damen finally found his balance.
Nicaise, for the lack of better word, interrogated him all though out the dinner, with Laurent steering the conversation away whenever he got too close to a sensitive topic. Nicaise was curious about everything. He threw questions after question, ranging from how they had met, why Damen was not introduced earlier, to just how many partners Damen had before Laurent and whether Damen really liked his step-mother (both of the questions were promptly shut down with a terse reminder of maintaining boundaries by Laurent) and everything in between.
By the time Laurent went into the kitchen to get the desserts, Nicaise was in deep tangent defending the benefits of chocolate as he dug into the chocolate éclair, refusing to even taste the strawberry cobbler Laurent had served them. “The only way strawberry can be called a dessert is by dipping them in sugar or chocolate. They don’t stand on their own. Even they need chocolate. But chocolate… oh chocolate, it is heavenly as it is. Also, it has variety and no matter what kind of chocolate you are into, it’s guaranteed to be delicious and hit you sweet craving just the right way.”
“Valid point,” Damen nodded.
Laurent rolled his eyes heavenward.
Nicaise pointed his spoon towards Damen in solidarity. Damen relished in the rush of validation. He quickly took the bite of cobbler on his spoon and pointed his own spoon at Nicaise.
Laurent quipped in with a quite smile on his face, “Damen doesn’t like white chocolate.”
Nicaise shot him a narrow-eyed look. “You don’t?”
Finding himself in an uncharted territory, Damen looked at Laurent, begging for some clue, but the bastard only smiled at him serenely as he kept on eating. “Uh… as you said all chocolates are really good… like every kind, but- um, Laurent.“
“I know where Laurent stands about white chocolate,” Nicaise cut him off before Laurent could react. He tilted his head to the side, putting his spoon down, the lure of chocolate éclair forgotten for a moment. “I want to know where you stand.”
“Yeah, Damen, tell us how you really feel.” Laurent asked sweetly, not even trying to hide the impish smile blooming on his lips.
Knowing Laurent would only bask in Damen’s attempt to keep his foot out of his mouth, Damen shot him a glower before jumping into the deep end. “Uh… I love chocolate. I do but… it’s not real! I’m sorry, you’re clearly very passionate about it. But it has no cocoa solids in it. So, it’s not really chocolate, technically.”
Nicaise sat still for what seemed like an eternity, before he hummed and quietly said, “I see.”
Laurent coughed into his fist but it sounded an awful lot like supressed chuckles.
Only the clinks of cutlery against the plate remained as both of the DeVere brother went back to finishing their desserts.
Not knowing what just happened or how to dig himself out of the hole Laurent led him into, Damen followed suit.
“How are you liking the strawberry cobbler?” breaking the silence, Nicaise asked.
“It’s really good, not too sweet and not that heavy.” Damen said honestly, then he quickly tagged on, “but it’s not as good as a good quality chocolate bar.” He gave Nicaise his most winning smile.
Nicaise raised an eyebrow. “So, my brother slaved away for the cobbler in this heat for hours just to be declared inferior to mass manufactured chocolate bars.”
“What? No,” Damen backpaddled as fast as possible as Laurent remained a silent spectator of the train wreck. “Of course not. The cobbler is amazing. It’s a delight, really. I thought it was ordered from a restaurant. It’s that good.”
“So you’re saying that-“
“Nicaise,” Laurent cut in, snickering.
Nicaise slumped into his chair and whined, “Dammit! I was just getting started. You’re such a bore.”
Damen gave Laurent a baffled look. “What? Why you absolute monsters! I thought I blew it.”
Nicaise started cackling like a demented hyena, drowning the rest of the choice words Damen might have thrown at the DeVere brothers.
“I’m never coming back.”
Laughter still ringing in the room, Laurent rolled his eyes at Damen. “Nicaise, look, a petulant baby in a three-piece suit.”
“I think you mean a couple of gym rats stacked on top of each other,” Nicaise bit onto an éclair, “trying to pass as a man.”
Damen opened and closed his mouth a couple of times like a fish out of water, stuck between being sullen and fond; the warmth of good humour overtaking everything else at the end.
It was proving to be exponentially difficult to be irritated at Laurent when his eyes were twinkling with mirth, laughing without a second thought at snide little comments Nicaise made.
But Damen held onto the act of being grumpy, grumbling about DeVeres being devil reincarnate as he ate the rest of his dessert.
“You made tiramisu too, right?” Nicaise asked.
Damen stopped. His spoon loaded with a bite of the cobbler mid-air. “Tiramisu? Homemade?” He put the spoon down, leaned back in his chair, waiting for the tiramisu.
Nicaise snorted. He shoved the rest of the half-eaten éclair in his mouth, pushing away the rest of the éclair and said to Laurent, “What? Your boyfriend clearly has his priority straight and I’m just following. I can acknowledge someone with their dessert priority set.” To Damen, he said, “I acknowledge you.”
Smiling behind his fist, Damen cleared his throat. “Thank you for the acknowledgement.”
Nicaise nodded once, regally.
Laurent muttered something under his breathe which sounded suspiciously similar to ‘what have I done?’.
Damen smiled.
Laurent got up from his seat. “I don’t want to hear any moaning and groaning or about being bloated or anything, from either of you.”
“Who, me?” Nicaise asked as Damen said, “What is bloating?”.
Nicaise flashed not so discreet ‘ok’ sign to Damen.
The doorbell chimed. Laurent shot them the bird over his shoulder as he went to open the door.
“Have you had Laurent’s tiramisu before?”
Damen shook his head no.
“You’re in for a treat then. Don’t tell him I said this, but it’s amazing. I can never make them taste like Laurent’s.” He picked up an éclair and pointed at Damen with it, “Don’t tell him I said that.”
Damen was pretty sure that Laurent already knew but since he had a shred of common sense still intact, he asked, “Tell him what?”
From the corner of his eyes, Damen saw a black streak run into the room.
“That’s just Old Nick,” Nicaise murmured, nibling on the éclair.
Damen always thought naming the cat after the actual Satan was Laurent’s idea of being funny but after meeting Nicaise, he was starting to doubt the theory of his. He was about to confirm his hypothesis when loud clicking of shoes against the marble floor was followed by a booming voice saying, “You really are here!”
Auguste, suited and booted, stood near the doorway of the dining area. His eyes were rounded with surprise. “Oh my! When Nicaise had told me that Laurent was bringing you to meet him, I’d thought you surely wouldn’t have the audacity to show your face here. But here you are-” he openly pointed at Damen, who sat frozen in his chair, reeling from the sudden onslaught of cruel verbal knife being thrown at him. “-sharing food at the same table with my cousin.”
Auguste rounded at Nicaise, “Do you know my dad once had described his family as a parasite? You know what parasites are, right? They jump and hold onto you and all they do is take and take and take, thoughtlessly, selfishly. My dad died trying to fight off his parasite of a family.”
Laurent hurried into the room and placed himself between his elder brother and the dining table “Auguste, stop. Why are you doing this?”
Paying no heed to Laurent, Auguste stepped in closer to the dining table. “Nicaise needs to know who he is sharing food with; Nicaise has the right to know that famous Mr Akielon and his family brought a bogus law suit on us and dragged it for decades to leech off of our success. Hell, they almost succeeded.”
Damen fisted his hands under the table. He closed his eyes against the harsh voiced attack but the words still rang in his ears as embarrassment burned through his veins.
Auguste stalked towards the Damen slowly; his eyes were cold with barely restrained hatred and fury. “Nicaise needs to know that his father crumbled under the pressure, we went bankrupt almost and now, here he is, sharing meals on the same table, taking advantage of the naivete of my brother, of my little cousin. Tell me Mr Akielon, are you scoping out this house next to stake a claim on it too? Is this why you got my brother into bed-“
Laurent bulled himself in between Auguste and Damen, jostling Damen’s seat. Damen’s snapped his eyes open as Laurent shouted, “Shut up! Enough!”
The whole room dipped into a stunned silence, with only Laurent’s harsh breathing submerging the already chilly atmosphere of the room.
Damen cautiously reached out and placed his hand at the small of Laurent’s back.
Breathless in anger, Laurent’s voice trembled slightly as he ordered Nicaise to go to his room.
Wanting to fade away from the frigidity of the confrontation, Nicaise curled himself in his seat. His eyes wide with a sheen of fear glittering in them.
“Go upstairs now, please”, Laurent said again, his voice a bit softer.
Scraping of chair against the marble floor was loud; Nicaise hurried upstairs. Laurent watched him rush upstairs, throwing wary glances over his shoulder.
Laurent, rounding up on Auguste, gritted out through his clenched teeth, “How dare you?”
“Excuse me?”
“First you show up at my house without notice, interrupting my dinner plan. Then you come in here and insult my guest and drag Nicaise into your pig fight!” Laurent took a menacing step towards him; his words laced with molten fury. “How dare you? The moment you stepped over that threshold, I told you not to create a scene. You promised you wouldn’t ruin the evening. What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Auguste let out a laugh so hollow and mocking, it sent bristles down Damen’s spine. “Funny you should ask, Laurent. You creating unnecessary complications in my life with your recklessness is the main problem right now.”
Damen gripped onto the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. At least it was better than to give into the urge to deck Auguste DeVere right across his cruel mouth
Laurent scoffed, “Here we go again. Do tell me brother, what action of mine you deem reckless now? My breathing? Me being alive?”
Shaking off the feeling of being tied down to the chair, Damen slowly stood up. He gently took a hold Laurent’s wrist.
Laurent gazed up at him with fury burning into his blue eyes, but what hit Damen the worst was the resignation in those eyes. Damen slid his hand into Laurent’s and felt Laurent clamp down on his hand, felt Laurent’s anger, desperation and hurt. But he knew, him staying there would only add fuel to the fire; and Auguste seemed like he was ready to burn down everything without any remorse.
Lowering his voice, Damen said, “I don’t think I should be here for this conversation.” As Laurent furrowed his brows, Damen hurried in, “But please remember, I’m only one call away.”
Damen did not step away before tenderly pressing his lips to Laurent’s temple. White hot anger was sizzling through his veins, reaching the crescendo as Damen walked out of the house. He began second guessing his decision to not give into his violent urge; Laurent surely would’ve understood and forgave him for punching his brother.
***
In the void left behind by the closing door as Damen walked out, the muttered “Good riddance” was so loud that Laurent felt the words in his bones.
Taking a deep breathe in, Laurent calmly said, “Are you done now? Happy?”
Auguste leaned against the table, shooting a disgusted look at the hallway. “I’ll be happy once this whole mess is over, once he walks out from our lives for good.”
“Our lives?”
“I understand you are infatuated with him at this moment,” Auguste waved a dismissive hand around the dinner table, “but my god, Laurent, stop thinking with your dick for a second. How do you think it will look when the board members get to know that not only you’re sleeping with him, but now he is getting intimate with our family also? Nicaise is still so young, Laurent. What were you thinking?”
“Stop dragging Nicaise into it!” Laurent’s voice just short of an infuriated shout, “What does Nicaise has to do with any of this?”
“Everything! Nicaise has a stake in the company. He’s still a teenager. They get influenced so easily. Teenage boys hero worship older successful men more often than not; I remember how you used to chase my shadow, wanted to do everything I was doing. You introducing Akielon to Nicaise, that’s just recipe for disaster. If you keep letting them build a rapport, what’s stopping him to worm his way into DeVere Corp. through Nicaise, huh? What’s stopping him from going, ‘oh, your brother’s not home but he wanted me to look at some files’? Think before you act for once, Laurent, for god’s sake.”
“So, I’m reckless for letting my boyfriend meet my brother, because my boyfriend might be scheming to get access to confidential information through Nicaise. Nicaise is a naïve idiot who would let Damen into my home office just because he might start hero worshipping Damen. And I’m reckless and so drunk on dick that I’d leave said confidential information laying around willy-nilly in my home office. Is that it? Am I missing something else?”
Grinding his teeth, Auguste said, “I’m sure you’re missing quite a lot.”
“Okay.”
Auguste blinked, caught off guard, “Okay what?”
“Let’s talk about recklessness.” Rolling his shoulders back, Laurent forced himself to relax. “I explicitly said that Damen and I were in a relationship in the board meeting. The same board meeting where you basically ambushed me trying to prove your loyalty to the Board. Instead of presenting a united front, you essentially showed how you don’t trust your own brother, how unaware you are about the life of your family members cum your employees,” Holding up a finger, Laurent arched his eyebrow. “Now, that’s reckless. I proved my loyalty to the company the moment I snatched the Isthima deal right under from Akielon nose. They all thought, including you, that I was using Damen but think for a second, what did you prove yourself to be? An empty figure head who has no knowledge about what goes in his own damn company.”
Laurent held up another finger. “Now, that’s reckless and plain stupid.”
“Watch your tongue!” Auguste shoved away from the table with such vigour, all the cutlery and utensils clinked violently.
“No, think about it.” Lowering his voice in a mocking whisper, Laurent taunted, “If you had a shred of intelligence or maturity Nicaise has, you would have come to me before back stabbing me like that and take credit for my actions when I threw the Isthima deal on the table. You could have established yourself as a solid player. But what did you do instead?” Backing away from his fuming elder brother, he tutted, “So reckless.”
Auguste sneered, “Oh, ‘you betrayed me!’, ‘you stabbed in the back!’ Cry me a fucking river, Laurent.”
Laurent flinched back at the barely restrained violence and scorn in those words. But before Auguste could take advantage of that, Laurent continued on, ready to cut deep just as much, “You also think that a teenage boy sees a successful man and develops hero worship because I used to dog at my older brother’s feet when I was a young. I have to say Auguste, very sound logic. So, the abuse Nicaise and I suffered through at the hands of our uncle while you were abroad, backpacking through the world, must be because of hero worship, right?”
Auguste balked back, disgust painting his words tar black, “What? What the fuck are you going on about?”
“I didn’t report it for 9 years. It must be because of the whole hero-worship thing, right? I was a teenager, uncle was the head of our family company; so, by all means he was a successful older man, thus your whole hero-worship logic. You never came back to check up on us either, not until uncle was incarcerated. You only ever called on Christmas to regale your younger brother with the stories of adventure and of having the freedom of being anywhere but here. Hell, you had never even met Nicaise properly at that point. I wonder what kind of hero influenced you to take that decision”
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare twist my words!” Charging towards Laurent, Auguste shouted, spittle flying.
Laurent stood rooted in his self-righteous fury, meeting his elder bother’s wild gaze with freezing fury. “Don’t you dare come in my house and threaten my guests and drag my brother into your nasty games. You don’t know anything about us, Auguste.”
Dragging a sickened gaze on Auguste, Laurent threw the words in the most heinous way he knew, “You’ve turned into the husk of a man, holding onto all the worst quality this bloodline has bestowed upon us.”
“Jesus Christ, it’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” Auguste gritted out. His eyes radiating pure bewilderment wrapped in disgust so strong that it made Laurent almost positive he was about to be decked in the face or spitted on or both.
“Funnily enough, I don’t recognize you anymore either.” In effort to conceal his shaking hands, Laurent shoved them in his trouser pockets and jerked his head towards the door. “Now get the hell out of my house.”
Auguste stomped his way to the hallway leading to the door, shoulder-checking Laurent on his way out.
The door swished open.
Laurent said, as coldly as possible, “Oh, also, I’m not resigning. It’s my company too and I’ll burn this city down before I let the company ruin at the hands of money hungry board members. And if you try to fire me, make sure you have damn good reason to do so.”
The door got slammed shut.
Laurent stood still staring at the empty hallway, heedless to the fact that his heart was trying to beat out of his chest. His knees finally gave in, buckling under the pressure that was building from the very moment Laurent had opened the door to let Auguste in.
He crumpled to the floor, pain singing up from his ankles and knees from colliding with the hard marble floor. His breathing so loud that it echoed in the empty room.
Laurent stared at the speckles and swirls of grey on the white floor, his ears ringing.
He wondered if his uncle was right after all; wondered if he was destined to be alone and hurting.
He questioned if his younger self was right to think about running away from this hell.
***
Damen loosened the knot of his tie and tightened it again as the elevator door opened on his floor. The open door revealed his confused looking temporary executive assistant – which is a perpetual look on her to be honest – standing too close to the elevator in a neon orange suit.
“Elena, you’re late, again. You were supposed to attend the divisonal meeting with me this morning,” Damen said. He sidestepped Elena as he had learned she did not have the common sense to move aside. He strode towards his office, almost running away from his own assistant. What a fate.
“I know!” She whined, keeping up with Damen’s brisk pace quite easily, “my pet hamster, Stella… remember I told you she had a habit of hiding whenever she sees me getting ready for office. She doesn’t like being alone and I hate to leave her there-“
Damen whirled around to face her. “Do you remember what we talked about?”
She blinked, “You tell me a lot of stuff, Mr Akielon. Well, mostly you just speak towards me, and I get confused because you generally don’t look at me when you talk. So, I miss-“
Damen turned around and started walking towards his office in a much faster pace. “I remember telling you that I don’t need to know what happened to your pet, or how the Rat King had stolen your office ID, or how upset you are that broccolis are a man-made creation, or how the subways doors had refused to open for you, or anything else for that matter.”
“Well-“
He spun and ducked his head down to hold her gaze, in hopes of getting his point across for just this one damn time. “Those are not valid responses as to why you are late. Just tell me you won’t be late again, even though we both know that’s not true, but please, for the sake of my mental peace, just tell me that and move on, okay?”
“You want me to lie?” asked Elena, tilting her head slightly.
Swallowing down a shout, Damen gritted out, “Yes. Can you do that?”
“Is that really what you want, Damianos?” drawled out a familiar voice.
Damen looked over his shoulder to see Laurent, in a slate blue suit and crisp white shirt, leaning against Elena’s desk. He rolled his eyes. “I want to go deaf, but we don’t get what we want. Do we?”
Laurent arched one eyebrow up. “It’s crotchety old man hour already?”
Not giving Laurent any chance to say something else to rile him up more, Damen took Laurent’s hand and pulled him in his office, audience be damned.
He pushed Laurent against the closed door. Crowding him in, Damen slid an arm around his waist to jerk him closer and devoured the surprised gasp falling from Laurent’s lips with his own.
He thumbed the sharp line of Laurent’s jaw and glided his fingers into Laurent’s hair as he went pliant in Damen’s arms. Still keeping their lips engaged in their own dance, Laurent shoved away from the door and swiftly changed their position, caging Damen against the door with clever twists of his feet.
Parting their lips away from each other, he took two fistfuls of Damen’s curls and tilted his head back as much as possible. The fervent sheen in those glittering blue eyes of Laurent vowed to destruct Damen’s sanity in the most lascivious of ways. Flashing a hint of a wicked smile, he nudged open Damen’s legs and pressed his thigh in between them. He slowly began to move in a purposeful rock.
Sharp sparks of pleasure sizzled in his blood. Damen closed his eyes as Laurent’s lips descended on the bare span of his throat and rained down kisses filled with tongue and faint bites of teeth.
Damen hooked his hand under Laurent’s other knee and hitched his leg up and closer to him, while keeping a securing arm around his waist to help keep his balance as Laurent’s attention honed back on making their lips meet each other.
Laurent caressed his clothed chest and stomach, traveling downward, spurring muted tingles all over Damen’s skin. That made him lose the ongoing battle against trampling down the desperate noises trying to crawl free from his lips.
He let out a breathy whimper in between their lips, which evaporated in the heat between them.
But not quickly enough, as Laurent stopped his hand in its journey and whispered against Damen’s lips, “I really don’t want your employees to hear how you sound when you moan my name. That would be a horrible introduction of me.”
Still drunk on Laurent, Damen murmured in between short breathes, “We can make them hear my name.” He dropped Laurent’s leg, sliding an arm under his slate blue suit jacket. Damen spread his open palm at the small of his back, revelling in the warmth and faint shiver running through Laurent’s body as he brushed his lips against Laurent’s.
But before Damen could follow through his stratagem of making Laurent come undone, he said, “Why would you moan your own name when you’re together?”
Startled, Damen reared back. “What?”
Winding his arms around Damen’s neck, Laurent echoed back, “‘We can make them hear my name’. Crying out your own name…that’s some Henry VIII level narcissism, Damianos.” Laurent smirked. “Definitely not sexy.”
“I was talking about you calling out my name because it sounds so good.” Damen grinned big, eyes sparkling with mirth.
“But I wasn’t the one making all the needy sounds here, was I?” Laurent dared.
“Oh, but I can coax out pretty sweet sounds from you,” dropping his voice a bit lower, Damen leaned in. “We both know that, sweetheart.”
Flicking at Damen’s forehead, Laurent shoved away from him. He quickly straightened up his clothes. He ran fingers through his blond tresses, throwing annoyed glares at Damen for messing it up.
The remnants of stolen moment of pleasure left Damen with fluttering heart and weakened knees. Supported by the door, he could only laugh under his breathe, chest flooding in with boundless affection.
Giving up on his hair, Laurent sat on the corner of Damen’s executive desk and started pushing the chair nearest to him, back and forth, with his foot.
Damen arched up his eyebrow, only to get the gesture volleyed back at him.
Shaking head at his antics, Damen pushed away from the door. He straightened his suit and did not even try to right his riot of curls, knowing such attempts to be futile.
Hands in pants pockets, Damen stood in front of Laurent, mindfully keeping the moving chair in between them. “I’m guessing you did not get any sleep last night.”
“Gee, thanks,” Laurent drawled.
Damen waited.
The velocity of the chair travelling back and forth increased. The silence dragged on. Laurent trained his eyes on the sprawling vista outside Damen’s office.
Damen was beyond grateful that the train wreck of last night was not ferocious enough to send Laurent running for the hills; or maybe it was, but Laurent was still here in his office. Damen was grateful for it.
He did not know how to help him out of this family mess without offering to part their ways, cut all ties. Damen was neither stupid nor noble enough to suggest that. To the people to whom Damen had truly, wholly given his heart, more often than not, left scars instead of loving marks. Damen never had anyone in his life who fought for him; fought to stand beside him, to be with him.
He was anxious and, in a hurry, to have something tangible and real between Laurent and himself, forgetting that even though everybody wants love, different individual adopts different paces to accept that love. He had almost walked away from the sparkling potential of their relationship before it could even put down roots and bloom. It was Laurent and his small and sometimes grand gestures which proved his worth to Damen again and again.
It was Laurent who, despite everything, were putting his complete trust in Damen to kiss him, crowded against the office door. Laurent was the one who held Damen’s hand in front of all Akielon employees of this floor, even after last night’s fiasco. Laurent had the courage to come back in Damen’s office to see him, knowing very well that distancing himself from Damen would diminish almost all of the tension in his family.
But Laurent chose to be here. He had been choosing Damen time and time again, even though he is someone who valued the wellbeing of his family more than anything.
Damen was thankful. He was humbled.
The chair stopped moving.
“Last night has Nicaise quite shaken.” Laurent finally looked back at Damen. “He won’t admit it. All the raised voice, contradictory explanations presented by my brot- by Auguste has left him questioning the worth of his own experience,” Laurent clipped.
“It breaks your heart,” Damen whispered.
Laurent put on a sardonic smile. “In a million fucking pieces.” He turned away from Damen and stood before the window. “He’d thought he would gang up with Auguste and give you the shovel talk, tease me and do all that stereotypical thing family does with the new boyfriend. He apologized to me for telling Auguste about having you over, for ruining the night.” Laurent caught Damen’s eyes over his shoulder. “My teenage brother offered to apologize to you so that you don’t walk away because of last night. Thank God, at least one of my bothers has some civility to do so.”
“Nicaise has nothing to apologize for.”
“Of course not!” Laurent whirled around. “It’s Auguste! How can he be so cruel to minimize years and years’ worth of trauma and abuse into ‘stress caused by competing business group’? How can he be so blind and ignorant to excuse actions like withholding of food, water and basic human necessity as pressure caused by Akielon’s business practices?” Scrubbing his face violently, Laurent let out a muffled groan.
Damen took a step towards him but stopped, even though he ached to have Laurent in his arms, as Laurent continued on.
“Every decision to gamble away family money; to drink himself blind; to beat Nicaise black and blue to the point of unconsciousness; to withhold food and water – every single action of my uncle was his and only his. Those were deliberate, well thought-out punishment to keep us in line, under his control. Then, Auguste comes in and presents a simple, convenient excuse: Akielon family.” Laurent let out a bewildered laugh. "How does it make sense in his head? What?"
Even in the roar of anger, Damen could feel his heart breaking for Laurent and Nicaise all over again.
“Now, my Nicaise is hurting, confused and second-guessing his every decision and memory; second guessing his own experience and instinct.” Laurent wavered in his place before catching support against the window.
Damen rushed in but was stopped by a hand on his chest.
“He asked me if Uncle was always so angry because he was adding onto the stress by whining about being hungry.” Eyes glittering with unshed agony, Laurent looked up at Damen. “How do I make him understand that he has nothing to be sorry for? Nothing ever was his fault, still isn’t.”
“Laurent…”
Shaking his head, Laurent resolutely declared, “He doesn't believe me. I guess he doesn't know how to. But it's not Nicaise’s fault, nothing is... If anyone should be apologizing, it’s Auguste. He should beg on his knees, beg for forgiveness to my Nicaise, to you-“
“And you.” Damen firmly said.
Lips quivering ever so slightly, Laurent swayed in his place as if light-headed; as if the weight on his shoulders were too heavy to bear.
Damen pulled Laurent right into his chest, trying to build a bailey around Laurent with his arms.
“Please tell Nicaise,” and yourself, Damen thought, “to believe that he has nothing to apologize; that I am not going nowhere.”
Laurent stilled. His palms clutching the suit jacket at Damen’s sides, eyes disbelieving, uncertain.
Swallowing down his own frustrated scream, and his boiling anger against the dead man, Damen tightened his hold on Laurent. “Both of you’ll have me by your side, no matter what. I promise.”
Laurent buried his face against Damen’s neck and wrapped his arms around Damen, just as tightly.