Work Text:
An uncomfortable burn takes over your calves as you make your way up the cramped staircase to your tiny LA apartment. Of course the elevator is broken (again) and your landlord probably won’t do anything about it for the next couple of weeks. Months, if you’re really unlucky. You’re used to it by now. Even the richest people in California have shitty landlords. Any other day you’d just brush it off, you wouldn’t allow yourself to get frustrated. But today? Today is different.
You’re so drowsy today, your temples are pulsating with a sharp pain from a full week of nonstop work. God, it’s always so challenging before a long weekend. Everyone wants to finish their tasks before the break starts. Every one of your supervisors wants you to suddenly be in six places at once, to be able to do ten things at once. They knew you only had two hands when they were hiring you. Nothing’s changed since then. Still only two hands. No developments in that department. The clients keep calling, making crazy demands. Everyone’s an asshole but also everyone acts like it’s their first day on earth. It’s exhausting. It’s humiliating. It’s overwhelming.
And then when the hellish week is finally over and you’re free to go home and have a couple of days of rest, your car breaks down. Of course it does, this piece of shit. You should’ve replaced it by now. You’re tired and sore, you feel sweaty and gross in your office outfit, you miss your cat and your boyfriend and honestly you’re so incredibly overstimulated. You just want everyone to leave you alone. Even your socks are pissing you off somehow - why do they feel so weird on your feet? Damn, you’re really going through it today. You need some time to unwind.
And then, just for the sake of the universe finding your misery hilarious, the Uber driver is outstandingly rude to you the entire way to your place. You don’t even talk to him but you still catch strays - apparently everything about you is wrong, from your outfit to the place you live at itself. You spend fifteen minutes choking back tears as the random middle-aged Uber guy complains about having to drive to “that” part of the city. It’s not even a bad part of the city, what do you mean?! It’s fucking downtown Los Angeles. Every part of the city is equally bad. Just drive, no conversation needed. You’re not paying to be humiliated and insulted, you just want to get home safe.
Today is just the worst. The worst ending to the worst week of the worst month. It’s a miracle you weren’t cartoonishly splashed with puddle water on your way to your building. Or that it didn’t start raining. Or that a tornado didn’t hit the city. You let out a sigh of relief while pushing the door to your apartment open, half expecting the place to blow up or burst into flames with how your day’s been going so far.
The door opens normally but you sense that something’s off. You’re so on edge today, you can’t even put a finger on what’s wrong. Everything’s just… Too much. Way too much. But then your spider senses tingle - your cat doesn’t run up to you begging for food like she’s been starving for years (even though you feed her more than enough meals a day and countless treats). Why isn’t she waiting by the door? Something’s different.
Your brain is suddenly aware of a low buzzing echoing through your apartment. The dryer is running, but you can’t remember turning it on. Or doing the laundry, for that matter. Are you so tired it’s starting to mess with your memory? Is this the time to retire? You stop in your tracks, frozen, as you listen to the sounds coming from your kitchen. Someone’s there. Someone’s making a noise in there, going through your drawers and cabinets. Someone’s… Humming?
You reach to your back pocket and feel for your phone but it’s useless. You forgot it ran out of battery on the ride home and the Uber driver refused to lend you a charger. What a perfect ending to a miserable day - coming home to a break-in. God, what are you even supposed to do? You’ve only ever seen burglaries in movies. By the time the police shows up, the guy’s gonna carry half of your apartment out the door and run away. Not that you have anything of any value except your extensive trinket collection. What if he’s on drugs, though? Shit, where did you put that pepper spray Damien insisted on buying for you when you started dating? It’s probably at the bottom of your work bag. Not your smartest move.
For a second you consider turning around and walking out of the apartment. Maybe one of your neighbors is home and would be willing to help you chase the burglar out? Or at least lend you their phone so you could call your boyfriend for help? But then you remember your cat is somewhere in there and a wave of rage and desperation comes over you. Honestly, who gives a fuck if the person tries to attack you? This week’s been so insufferably horrible so far. Whatever happens, you’re just gonna deal with it. You’re past the point of caring. Without a second thought, you charge forward.
But the moment you peek into your kitchen your body relaxes. He’s here. It’s just Damien. No, it sounds too dismissive to say “it’s just Damien”. It sounds like he’s always here. He’s not. What is he doing in your kitchen? Shouldn’t he still be in Edinburgh finishing up some voice acting stuff? Your eyes follow him around your kitchen as he explains in great detail the steps of making his signature sauce - and he’s explaining it to your cat, of course, as if the cat’s there to approve all dishes before they’re served. He’s wearing a simple black tee and his usual pair of pants but he still looks so put together. You really missed seeing him and watching him be so domestic in your kitchen, watching him fit so well into your space is doing something to your heart.
You smirk seeing Damien put the sauce away into the fridge before walking up to you cat, who’s comfortably loafed up on the counter, and leaning down to bump foreheads with her. The cat blissfully nuzzles her face into Damien’s and for a moment you melt. You just don’t want to move to disturb this little bubble of comfort: your boyfriend cooking in your kitchen while having a full-on conversation with your cat. This is the life you daydreamed of when you were a teenager. And now it’s in your kitchen. Now it’s yours. Now he’s just here on a random friday without any warning whatsoever, without you asking him to come. The thought of Damien just showing up because he thought of you makes your guts twist like you just watched the most romantic movie scene. You still can’t believe he thinks of you when you’re not around, that you live in someone’s head like that.
“There goes your love for me, asshole.” Damien chuckles when the cat jumps off the counter to cheerfully greet you, slapping Damien across the face with her tail in the process, “The second the favorite parent comes home I’m nothing to you, huh? Unbelievable. I thought we were buddies, dog. I thought we were besties.”
“Don’t take this personally,” you smile at Damien faintly, hand reaching down to give your cat some attention, “She’s just trying to con me into giving her treats. I am but a humble servant to this bastard.”
Damien giggles at your comment but doesn’t reply. Instead, he approaches you and his hands immediately cup your face, his muscular arms casually flex in the process, giving you a good view of his tattoos. A tired “hi” escapes your lips as your boyfriend plants chaste kisses on your cheeks and mouth - one kiss, another, one more - each one more exaggerated than the last. You almost fall over from the force of his love and both of you giggle while you catch your balance. Damien’s arm wraps around your waist instinctively as he lowers himself a little to be eye level with you, even though he’s barely inches taller than you. He’s a creature of habit. He likes to look you in the eyes, to see how he’s making you feel when he’s around. He likes to see you blush from up close. It’s his favorite thing.
“You look surprised that I’m here.” he observes, the fingers of his other hand brush through your hair and put strands of it behind your ear with utmost adoration, “I tried texting you but your phone was off. Thought you got kidnapped or something.”
“Yeah, it died and the asshole Uber driver didn’t want to give me his charger. I’m sorry.”
“Uber? No car?” a hint of surprise flashes through Damien’s face but that doesn’t stop him from planting some more kisses on your face, “How come?”
You sigh. “Long story. Don’t wanna talk about it now.“
“I can call my car guy.” Damien suggests, “He’ll get you all fixed up in no time. Ubers are crazy expensive.”
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later. I don’t have the energy to think of it now, Deems.” you dismiss him.
Damien frowns at the sight of your exhaustion, his eyes sparkle with worry from behind his round glasses. You seem so out of it. He had no idea how hard you’ve been working lately. Why didn’t you tell him? You probably didn’t want to bother him, no matter how often he tells you sharing your life is never a bother to him. Right now, he doesn’t want to exhaust you even further by making you recount your day to him, so he does the next best thing. He showers you with affection - a certified Damien Haas banger. Works every time.
“So how did you get in here without a key, stalker?” you ask, completely unbothered by the fact that you’re actively being lifted from the ground and placed on a countertop like a porcelain doll.
“Oh, I’m just really good at magic tricks. Been watching some telekinesis tutorials on TikTok, so I’m obviously a certified sorcerer now. I’m basically Doctor Strange.”
“I bet you are.” you chuckle.
Your back is being pressed into the cabinet behind you but you don’t really care. You’re too busy with the way Damien’s lips smash into yours, the way he pushes himself forward while pulling on your thighs to bring you closer, the way his lips curve into a smile while he kisses you, the giggles he lets out between breaths. The pressure in your temples seems to disappear the more he touches you, the more his scent envelops you. For the first time today your mind goes blank, completely free of any worries. It’s like the bad day never happened to you at all.
“I know you keep the key on top of the doorframe, loser.” Damien mumbles into your lips between kisses, “Can’t do that. Someone might break in.”
But all you can do is hum in response, raking your fingers through his soft brown hair and pulling on his roots. You’ve been loving the way he let it grow out lately. You didn’t even know Damien in his natural hair color would make you swoon harder than silver fox Damien but there you were absolutely losing it any time you saw his little stray chocolate curls fall onto his forehead. A hint of satisfaction fills your chest at the barely-audible moan you manage to elicit from him. But the thing is, you can’t go on for too long. And you want to, god, you really do want to sit on that countertop forever and make out with your boyfriend but you’re just so drained. You can’t keep up much longer.
Damien seems to sense your discomfort despite your eagerness to kiss him back. He pauses, pulling away just the slightest bit. He’s still all up in your personal space, his nose still touching yours, lips milimetrs away from yours, arms resting on the countertop on either side of your thighs. You move forward, your lips instinctively following his, but he shakes his head.
He shouldn’t have this effect on you after dating for months but he still does. Somehow he always makes you feel like you’re having your first kiss with your crush, like you’re sneaking around and kissing in the school library. He always brings out the sparkles, the stupid butterflies in your stomach. He makes your heart beat fast, makes your head spin, makes you forget about everything, even your…
“Bad day today, huh, champ?” Damien asks, his doe eyes staring into yours lovingly, “You seem so out of it. How tired are you? Everything okay? I could make some tea for you, maybe?”
You sigh, leaning forward to bump your forehead into Damien’s. He smirks, suppressing a giggle - he just did this with your cat earlier. He finds you adorable even when you’re running on fumes in terms of energy.
“You don’t have to tell me, baby.” he assures you, “Just don’t want you to wear yourself out for me. Just because I invited myself in doesn’t mean you have to-“
“No, no!” you protest, cutting him off, “I’m so happy you’re here! You don’t even know! I was thinking of you at work but I didn’t want to bother you!”
“Mhm.” he hums, leaning back to look at you properly and make sure you’re not bullshitting him just to make him kiss you more, “You never bother me, dummy. Tell me what’s up. Do I need to fight someone for your honor or are you just tired from work?”
“I just didn’t expect you to be here until, like… I don’t even know. I thought you were gonna fly back home in a few days. I didn’t call you to check in before your flight or anything…”
Damien chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll live. Don’t worry, bug. I wanted to surprise you. Wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you I was coming home early.”
“Y-yeah but I didn’t even have the time to do any shopping so my fridge is empty and my apartment’s a mess and-“
Damien’s warm laugh cuts your rambling short. You look at him with confusion and he puts his hand on your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb with adoration before pressing a tender kiss to your lips.
“Yeah, I saw. I went to Trader Joe’s earlier, got some stuff for dinner, restocked the cat food. Don’t worry about it.” he beams at you, “We just wrapped things up early with the guys so I thought it’d be nice to see you and I really fucking missed you to be frank, so I couldn’t wait to hop on the plane back home.”
“You… Made dinner?”
“Yeah.” he smiles but gets a little self-conscious upon seeing your expression. Is he overstepping? Is he being too much? Too clingy? I mean, you’ve been dating for a pretty long time now and it’s not the first time he tries to do something nice to you but you seem so… taken aback? “D-did you want to… Have something specific for dinner? I just cooked because I thought you’d like something homecooked after work but, hey, if you… Had plans for today or something it’s okay. Sorry I didn’t ask if it was okay to come.”
“Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay to come whenever you want. Don’t apologize!” you assure him, “And plans? What plans? You are my plans. You know that.”
“You sure? Cuz it feels like you’re upset. And that’s okay but I wanna know what I can do to un-upset you.”
Yeah, why are you upset? You’re not even sure yourself. You appreciate Damien being here so much it can’t be put into words but still something’s bothering you.
“I’m not. Sorry, I’m just so fucking exhausted from work. I probably just need a nap, that’s all. Nothing you’ve done upset me, don’t worry.” you brush it off, unsure of why you’re feeling so weird about your boyfriend doing you a favor, especially when acts of service are such a huge part of your love language.
You should be loving it. And you should show him. Why are you so emotionally flat about it? And it’s not like he’s love-bombing you all of a sudden, either. He does this a lot. He does things with you in mind so casually and so often. Damien is so fucking caring! A walking teddy bear! He always thinks of others before thinking of himself! And you love him for that! Why does a simple dinner throw you off so much?!
You try to push on Damien’s chest to jump off the countertop and he takes a step back to give you space but still holds your waist in place as he observes you, trying to figure out what’s wrong. You stare at him. He looks so lost you start feeling bad for being such an asshole when he’s so incredibly sweet to you.
“You didn’t have to make dinner, Deems. You should be resting, you just got back home. I’ll do the dishes and you go-“
“No need to.” Damien pushes you back onto the countertop, his body pressing into you again. The tight black tshirt he’s wearing is doing wonders to his chest and you struggle to focus. “Already done. You can just sit down and relax.”
“Thanks, but I still need to-“
“I already fed your furry baby.”
Damien watches you blank out entirely as your shoulders go limp. You stare at him, dumbfounded, mentally going through your to-do list for the day because it feels like there’s something you should be doing. You were so overwhelmed by work just a few hours ago. Your nervous system still feels like there’s so much to be done, so much on your plate. You don’t know how to react to Damien casually taking all of the pressure off your shoulders and he seems to have figured it out the moment you started blurting out random tasks. He’s not sure if you’re feeling guilty or if you’re just mentally exhausted from work but he senses this is what’s bothering you. You were not prepared for anyone to help you because you never ask for help when you need it. You never tell him when you’re overwhelmed.
“Baby, hey, look.” he starts, using his softest voice - the one reserved for talking to kids and animals and sometimes to you late at night when you’re tangled up in blankets together on his couch, “You don’t have to do absolutely anything right now. Just go change out of your work clothes and put on your jammies. I’ll heat the dinner up. Everything else can wait, okay?”
“Okay. Yeah, okay.” you mumble, finally jumping off the countertop. You untuck your uncomfortable office button-up shirt from your pants but your brain just can’t let go of the kindness you’re experiencing. You ask the question before you can even think.
“But… why?”
“Why what, bub?”
“Why are you being so nice to me? It’s not even my birthday. You didn’t have to do all this. I mean, you did my laundry, Damien.”
“Yeah, why not?” he chuckles, “You do this to me all the time, too. I’m back in town. No voice acting stuff, no conventions so I’m free. And you’ve been busy lately. Does there have to be a reason for me to take care of you?”
“No, I just- I didn’t expect this. I feel so… Spoiled.”
Damien tilts his head to the side with a smirk. He walks up to you, fingers fiddling with the top buttons of your shirt to undo them. His lips press against yours for the hundredth time that evening, this time lingering for a while in a tender kiss before he pulls away with a pop.
“I just love you, that’s all. That’s the reason. And I’m gonna spoil you rotten, so be prepared.”
A surge of warmth fills your chest to the point where you feel like it’s gonna overflow any minute now. It’s stupid but you feel tears welling in the corners of your eyes, though you do your best not to let them spill. Look at you, threatening to cry at the slightest sign of affection. What is wrong with you today?
“Now scram.” Damien spins you around by the shoulders and gently pats your ass, “You can’t be in the kitchen when I cook. The rat on top of my head gets shy when someone watches.”
You give Damien one last peck before turning around in an attempt to flee to your bedroom and change before he sees how glossy your eyes have become. Your escape plan fails the moment you set your eyes on a small but beautifully crafted bouquet of flowers standing at the other side of your kitchen, already soaking in water in a tall beer glass. Damien follows your gaze as you stand there, frozen.
“Oh, I couldn’t find anything to put these in and they needed water.” he clarifies, “Looks a little weird now but I’ll bring a cooler vase from my apartment later.”
You approach the bouquet, admiring it with your back turned to Damien. Not seeing your face and not knowing your reaction sends the man into a state of slight self-doubt again. Sure, he’s used to bringing you gifts for no reason and you do the same for him but aren’t flowers too cheesy? Damien tries to release the awkward tension by doing what he’s best at - running his mouth.
“I was out for the groceries and I passed by this cool flower shop Angela told me about. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten you flowers before, though, so I wasn’t sure if you’d even like them.”
“I’ve never…”
“Don’t even tell me you’ve never had anyone give you flowers before.” Damien chuckles nervously, a bit shocked since you’re known to go all out on gifts for any of your friends and relatives without any special occasion. Why wouldn’t they do the same for you? Surely one of your exes had given you a bouquet?
“No, I have.” you manage to get out, still fighting not to break down as you run your fingers along each flower in the bouquet, “Just not this nice. And not from anyone I dated. I got one from my family for graduation. One from my old workplace when I was leaving, too.”
“Well, did you ever want to get one just because? Or am I being a cringey old man?”
“Oh, I love them. They’re so pretty, Damien.”
You feel him approach you from the back, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back and drawing abstract shapes while the other points at the flowers as he leans closer to you.
“It’s actually a super nice story cuz the guy at the flower shop was so excited about me wanting to pick the flowers myself instead of just getting a readymade bouquet for you.” Damien babbles on as your eyes become more watery by the second, “And he told me every flower has a meaning, so here are some peonies for good fortune and romance, here’s a honeysuckle for affection and devotion and, uh, camellia? I think that’s what this guy right here is called. It’s for gratitude because I’m fucking grateful for you, dog. And then I obviously got some lilies because you said they were pretty that one time we were at Erin’s party and the venue was decorated with- Wait, are you crying?”
Damien’s hand rubs your back vigorously as he tries his best to comfort you. Needless to say, it only makes you break down more since he’s so sweet as always. You look at him apologetically through your wet eyelashes, your vision a blur.
“Aw, I’m sorry! Please don’t cry, gorgeous!” Damien squeaks, terrified that he made you feel bad by accident, “What did I do? Are we okay?”
“Yeah, there’s just…” you sniff in between sobs, tears streaming down your face uncontrollably, “There’s so much going on! And you’re… So fucking good to me! I don’t know why I’m crying about this but you’re just so nice!”
“Woah, woah! Time out!” Damien grabs you by the shoulders and gives your arms a reassuring squeeze, “Are we upset or just overstimulated? Don’t know if I need to be in solution mode or comforting mode right now. Help me out.”
“Just wanna cry. This week sucked. I think I’m overwhelmed.”
Damien presses his lips together, nodding with understanding. You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and take a big breath, trying to calm yourself down.
“Got it. Cry it out. It’s okay.” he pulls you flush against his chest and you immediately press your face to Damien’s body, sharp breaths escaping your mouth as your boyfriend gently rubs your back.
“Sorry f’ bein’ a mess.” you mumble into his shirt, “I’ve never had this much pressure put on me at once.”
“It’s absolutely fine. You had a shitty week and need to get it out of your system. I’m a big baby too when I’m upset if that makes you feel any better. Crying is good. You’ll feel better after.” Damien tries to lighten up your mood, feeling a little relieved when he hears your choked giggle, “Yeah, wipe that snot all over my shirt, there you go.”
You deliver an exceptionally weak slap to his chest, head pulling away from him to make sure he sees your offended expression. You try to come up with a sarcastic one-liner but you’re too busy crying so you just laugh to make sure Damien knows you’re just playing with him.
Damien chuckles, seeing that despite your eyes being puffy you seem a little more playful and relaxed than a minute ago. He looks at your disheveled state - red eyes, messy hair, half-buttoned shirt, runny nose - and smiles, wiping away the remnants of tears on your cheeks. You sniff but your breathing is more regular, a feeling of relief replaces the pit in your stomach.
“Wanna cry some more or should we go get you changed, sweetheart? What’s the plan?” Damien hums to you, voice serious again but still soft and full of adoration, “We can do whatever your little heart desires.”
“I think I wanna lay down.”
“Okay, that works.” he smiles, “Wanna watch Zootopia? We can eat later.”
You nod, a smile appearing on your face at the sound of your comfort movie.
“Okie dokie, I’ll get us settled on the couch, then.”
“I’ll get this clown outfit off.” you sigh, pecking Damien’s lips before walking towards your bedroom, hands working on getting that damn white shirt off of you, “Maybe I carried workplace bad vibes home with me on this damn uniform. I should burn it.”
Damien grabs your wrist before you have the chance to walk away. He spins you around and pulls you in for a deeper kiss. “I got some comfy vibes to spare if you care. Pretty sure they’ll rub off on you if you cuddle me hard enough.”
“Is the cat included in the deal?”
“Oh, I’m afraid that’s only in our premium version, boss.”
“Mhm.” you peck his lips once again and he sneaks his hands around you to hold you still and drag the kiss out for as long as he can, “I’ll take that premium offer, then, sir.”
“I got you.”
And he really does. Anytime life is too much for you. Anytime you feel overwhelmed. He just shows up like he senses that you need him. Damien’s always got you.