Chapter Text
Sitting on the bench at the university’s hockey stadium, Damen tightened the laces on his skates as Nikandros, one of his fellow hockey teammates, elbowed him sharply in the arm. Damen ignored him at first, and only when Nik did it again did he bother to glance up.
“Come on,” Nik said. “Do you want fifty bucks or not?”
Damen narrowed his eyes. “I already said I’m not doing it.”
Makedon, on Nikandros’s other side, held up a fifty dollar bill.
“Okay, if you do it, I’ll give you this. You don’t even have to get him to say yes.”
Damen shook his head vaguely, and glanced across the skating rink to the subject matter.
Laurent de Vere.
It was mostly a joke on the part of his friends, suggesting that he try to ask Laurent out on a date. The money was extra incentive- or so they seemed to think.
But Damen was sure it wasn’t a good idea. Just a good opportunity for him to embarrass himself.
“What’s the worst he could do?” Makedon asked. “Say no?”
“Actually, that would be the best-case scenario,” Nik said, before Damen could comment. “Asking the Ice Queen on a date is bound to end a lot worse than him just saying no.”
“Both of you shut up,” Damen said, rolling his eyes and looking back down to tie his other skate.
It wasn’t just that this was an idiotic idea.
Damen had never even spoken to Laurent. The closest he’d ever come to him was about this distance- across the skating rink, always watching him, but never approaching. It had been that way daily for the last two years. It was going on three now- today marked the last day of their summer practices, and tomorrow was the first day of the semester.
Even so.
You didn’t just talk to Laurent.
He was the star of the skating team for their university, a double major in political science and business, and the top of his class as a sophomore. He’d led the skating team to victory at Nationals as a freshman, and he was on a full-ride scholarship from day one. He was notorious. Everyone knew who he was, including Damen, despite that he was a junior, and ordinarily wouldn’t pay much attention to the underclassmen in general.
Everyone also knew that he had a tongue as sharp as a knife and could turn the most innocent of conversations into the most miserable human interaction one had ever had. Most people kept their distance from him. The only people Damen ever saw Laurent hanging out with were the people on the skating team, and he had a suspicion that they only did so because they felt obligated to.
It didn’t seem to bother Laurent, though. Ice Queen was one of the nicer names that he’d assumed, with the worst of them being “ice-cold bitch.”
“Do you hear that, Damen?” Mak asked, “It’s the sound of a perfect fifty dollar bill, fluttering away…”
Damen looked up again, noting that the skaters were coming off the ice now. Many of them were crossing to the other side, but Laurent was approaching the door on their side of the rink.
Standing, he glanced over to his left for a second.
Fifty dollars was fifty dollars.
With a quick snap of his hand, he stole the money right out of Mak’s hand.
“Hey, you don’t get that unless he says yes!” Nik complained.
“Hazard pay,” Damen replied, and shoved the bill in his pocket. “See ya.”
He started walking before they could try to steal the money back from him. Or before he could lose his nerve.
Laurent was off the ice now, just outside the door and clipping blade guards onto what Damen knew from experience were very expensive skates. They were beautifully cared for.
As Damen got closer, he couldn’t help but notice things about Laurent that he’d perhaps not spent too much time lingering on before- if only because he didn’t want to get too interested in someone who very likely would want nothing to do with him. He was blonde, with perfect skin and a lean, muscular figure. Every inch of his body was beautifully sculpted- he was an athlete in every sense of the word. His hair was slightly wind-blown from speedy rounds on the ice, his cheeks slightly flushed pink. He was dressed in all black from head to toe.
It only made the sharp blue of his eyes stand out more when he looked up, meeting Damen’s gaze as soon as he was close enough to be noticed.
Stopping several feet away from Laurent, Damen found himself dumbstruck for a moment. Laurent was beautiful.
In an almost terrifying way.
He regarded Damen with a look of suspicion, as though he was expecting to be attacked. Or at the very least, like whatever interaction that was about to happen was going to be extremely unpleasant. He didn’t seem entertained in the slightest.
“Hey,” Damen said.
One of Laurent’s elegant eyebrows raised.
“Hey,” Laurent echoed, not entertained.
Damen took a few steps forward, to close the gap a little more between them.
“Looked good out there,” he said. “The team’s got regionals coming up, right?”
“Yes,” Laurent replied, his eyes narrowing. He was eyeballing Damen, and he decided that was a good thing. That meant he was at least interested in the conversation, right?
“I’m Damen,” he said, holding his hand out.
“I know who you are.”
He said it immediately, and with enough confidence that Damen couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Laurent had been watching him as much as he’d been watching the figure skater these last couple years.
But a moment of awkward silence pushed the thought out of his mind- especially since Damen’s hand was still floating between them, unshaken.
Damen leaned against the wall surrounding the rink, crossing his arms over his chest. Laurent was going to be cold to him, and he supposed that was nothing more than he’d expected when he was walking over here. Fine. He could work with that.
Even though he was pretty sure he would get rejected outright..
Even if the whole thing was stupid.
Fifty dollars should have been a hundred.
“And you’re Laurent,” Damen said.
“Yes,” Laurent said again. His eyes had narrowed even more, almost expectantly. Damen decided perhaps he would be better off getting straight to the point.
“Can I get your number?”
He saw it- a flash of interest, perhaps? In Laurent’s blue eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest- almost mirroring Damen’s posture.
“Very straightforward,” Laurent said with a small nod, leaning against the wall. Damen watched with an almost uncontrollable amount of interest- he was particularly drawn to the angular curve of Laurent’s body. “And if I give my number to you, what exactly should I be expecting later?”
Damen was unsure if this was a challenge or not, but decided to take it.
“I guess you’ll have to give it to me, and find out.”
Laurent studied him for a moment more. Then he stuck his hand out.
“Phone.”
Hastily digging into his pocket, Damen unlocked the screen of his phone and placed it in Laurent’s hand, before the skater could change his mind.
A few moments of silence passed, while Laurent entered his number- hopefully not a fake one, Damen thought- and Damen wondered briefly if he should be making small talk or not. Laurent didn’t seem to be the type, and he’d be damned if he messed this up now. He’d gotten farther than he thought he would.
Finally, Laurent handed Damen’s phone back, with the screen still lit up, presenting a new contact’s page. At the top of the screen read Laurent de Vere.
“Thanks,” Damen said, almost too casually. He waved his phone a little. “We’ll be in touch.”
“I’m sure,” Laurent said.
Then he walked by Damen, heading toward the locker room door before making a left and disappearing from the rink.
Damen could have sworn he saw a smile on the man’s face.
*
Laurent was at his apartment that night, cooking dinner, when his phone buzzed on the island counter behind him. He set down the knife he was using to cut up onion and garlic, and turned.
The screen was lit up with an unfamiliar number on it, and a simple “hey” as the message.
Laurent was certainly not stupid; he knew exactly who it was. He hadn’t easily forgotten the interaction he’d had at the ice rink earlier. Damianos- or “Damen,” as he was otherwise known by his friends- was a star hockey player for the college as well as a popular frat guy. Of all people to approach and ask for his number, Laurent had least expected it to be him. He’d been polite, but his straightforwardness was what had been interesting enough to Laurent that he’d given his number out. Which, he usually didn’t do. It was out of character for him, and despite himself, Laurent still hadn’t entirely figured out why he’d agreed in the first place. Especially knowing what Damen’s intentions likely were.
So he couldn’t bring himself to respond immediately.
He pushed it aside for the duration of time that it took him to cook his dinner. It was only when he sat on the couch with his plate of stir fry that he unlocked his phone again, and navigated to the message. It almost seemed to be staring at him, that simple ‘hey.”
He typed out his response.
Who’s this?
Again, he wasn’t stupid. But he wasn’t going to act like he’d been waiting on Damen’s text, either.
Laurent had seen Damen plenty over the last two years that he’d been going to school here, but they’d never spoken. They had no classes together since Laurent’s arrival at university, either because Damen was a junior, he was a different major, or both. Either way, their only contact had been when the figure skating and hockey teams were switching out at practices.
But Laurent had better things to do than to go on dates. He was on a skating scholarship to pay for his tuition- and there wasn’t a lot of time in between that and studying that he had to dedicate to other people.
And none of that even accounted for how everyone at school saw him, either. “The Ice Queen,” they called him, and he supposed that it wasn’t that far off from how he acted towards other people. Maybe a little on the nose, but Laurent had long since decided he didn’t really care what anyone thought of him
It was strange that someone as popular as Damen- and as notorious for dating whoever, whenever- would try to get his number. And Laurent was almost a hundred percent sure that Damen was going to ask him out. What else would he want, so randomly, after all?
A few seconds passed. Then his phone buzzed again.
Damen. From earlier.
Laurent took a bite of his food.
Hello, Damen From Earlier. Are you going to tell me what you wanted my number for now?
Laurent watched the response bubble show up on the screen for a few moments, and waited for a response.
Then the bubble went away.
Laurent clicked his phone off, vaguely irritated. This was going to be a waste of his time.
Maybe Damianos was feeling too intimidated. Laurent supposed that wasn’t a bad thing.
But fifteen minutes later, the phone buzzed again.
I want to hang out sometime. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat.
Again, with that straightforwardness. Was he like this with all his conquests?
Laurent stared at the words, and debated saying yes.
He didn’t have many friends here- just the people on the figure skating team, and that was probably more out of obligation from them than any legitimate effort on either side. They were forced to work together, so it was easier getting along than not. At least, that’s how Laurent saw it.
But it didn’t seem like Damen had friendship on his mind. Although he hadn’t explicitly stated that he wanted to go on a date, the context clues were there.
And a guy like Damianos didn’t ask for your number to be just friends.
I’ll think about it.
He sent the response before he could dig himself further into the hole, and put his phone away to focus on the television.