Don't Tell My Brother

Epilogue

A Few Months Later

"Are you kidding? I've scored more touchdowns than you this season. Not like that would be hard."

"What? No way. You don't even know that, you're just trying to make shit up because you know we're about to kick your ass."

"Nuh-uh, I do know that. Your coach told me."

That made Mark pause for a moment. "No she didn't."

"Did too. She said 'Damien, you are the best player I've seen in all my years of high school football. So much better than Mark Sawyer, who can't even catch a ball properly, and is so scared of tackling someone that he pisses himse-'"

"Fuck off." Mark said with a scowl, reaching over the top of Lucas' head to try and hit Damien.

Damien ducked without breaking his stride, a smug little grin on his face as the three of them walked towards the football field. "Her words, not mine."

Mark folded his arms over his chest with a huff, turning away from Damien, fixing his eyes on the large fluorescent lights overhead. "Lucas, can you please tell your boyfriend to piss the fuck off, because we're, like, obviously the better team?"

Damien put an arm around Lucas' waist, pulling him closer. "No, tesoro, can you please tell your lovely brother he's so bad at football that God cries when he picks up the ball?"

"Enough." Lucas snapped, having dealt with this the entire car ride over.

It was the final football game of the year. Although the season had ended months ago, it was tradition for Mountbank and Sunnyview to hold one final "friendly" game before graduation. Mark took it incredibly seriously. Damien was very fond of winning. And Lucas...Lucas still had no idea how the sport even worked, despite both Damien and Mark's best efforts to teach him. (Well, Mark's best efforts. Lucas had a sneaking suspicion Damien had been lying to him, because 'if you score three touchdowns you can legally punch someone on the other team' didn't sound like a real rule.)

The stands were already half full by the time they arrived. The energy was high, partially because it was something of a tradition for the fans to drink at this final game, and partially because the SATS were finally over, and all the seniors were desperate for a bit of fun. He'd promised Damien he wouldn't worry about that tonight. Best not to dwell on it, not when he could see Alex and Mona down by the pitch's barrier, hanging over the side near where the Mountbank cheerleaders stood in a huddle, adjusting their hair. The night was cooler than he'd expected, but Lucas found he didn't mind, even as goosebumps pricked his bare arms. There was a palpable note of excitement in the air, smiling faces painted with stripes of red and gold and blue and black passing him by as they approached the door to the changerooms. Lucas checked his watch. They'd start in twenty minutes. Plenty of time.

"But seriously, Lucas," Mark began again, "Who are you supporting here? I'm your brother, remember?"

"And I'm your boyfriend." Damien wrapped his arm a little tighter around Lucas' waist, reaching down to push back a lock of hair that had fallen over his face. "Of course you're supporting me."

His hair was getting long. Damien had offered to cut it for him, and although Lucas had at first been skeptical he had to concede that if Damien cut his own hair, he must be pretty good. The hair in question was glossy and dark under the stadium lights, the same lights that shone in his brown eyes as he turned puppy-dog eyes on Lucas.

"Blood is thicker than water." Mark said. "Which is basically, like, bros before hoes."

"I'm the hoe?" Damien put a hand to his mouth in horror.