the Secret Life of Damien Carmichael

19. Upstate Lodge (part II)

It was just after seven when Mrs. Carmichael announced that breakfast was ready, Damien and Oliver were curled up together on their shared bed, neither one particularly interested in getting up. Damien's stomach grumbled, and he couldn't help but groan. "Guess we have to get up," he said with a sigh.

"Or," Oliver said pressing a kiss to his nose. "I could get us both plates, and come back, and we could just have breakfast in bed."

Damien blushed at the idea, it was perhaps one of the most romantic thoughts he had ever heard, and it thrilled him more than he dared admit, though he wasn't sure how his parents would take it. Wealthy though they were, the Carmichael's were exceptionally traditional when it came to matters of the family. His parents had insisted on meals being shared together, when possible, and the idea of actually having breakfast by himself seemed almost tantalizingly devious. As if they were doing something forbidden.

"Are you sure?" Damien asked, feeling somewhat bad at the thought of making Oliver be the one to bring them food. Oliver smiled, cupping Damien's face in his hands, and kissed his lips softly.

"I'll be right back," he promised.

Damien nodded, staring up at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face, he was certain that for as long as he lived he would never quite get used to having a boyfriend. Someone who was so willing to take care of him, so eager to do so, and so loving. He thought he might burst from excitement.

To Damien's dismay, however, Oliver didn't return as quickly as he'd expected. His stomach gave another grumble of hunger, and Damien dragged himself out of bed, and down the stairs to find Oliver and his parents all having a rather animated conversation.

"Good of you to join us," his mother teased, with a grin. Oliver frowned, looking down at his plate of pancakes, and Damien sighed. He might have known, pulling up a chair at the table, Damien filled up his plate with a large helping of eggs, and a side of pancakes. "Ollie here was just telling us that he had never skied before," his mother said.

Oliver blushed at that.

"I was planning to teach him," Damien said, pouring a bit too much syrup onto his pancakes.

"Nonsense," his father said. "Jenny can teach him."

"Jenny?" Oliver asked.

Damien's eyes lowered at that, "Our resident ski instructor," he said through clenched teeth.

"She's fabulous," his mother said. "Well, she's been skiing since she came out of the womb almost."

Damien groaned, barely able to conceal his rolling his eyes at that, Oliver cocked his head to the side, clearly curious, but Damien wasn't interested in explaining anything. "She even taught our Dame here a few things," his mother added. It was all Damien could do not to choke on his eggs.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at that.

"You alright hon?" his mother asked, as Damien all but inhaled his orange juice.

"Fine," he lied. His parents bought the lie well enough, but the look on Oliver's face told him that his boyfriend definitely hadn't. Damien hurriedly finished up his pancakes and all but raced back up to the loft. He could hear Oliver following after him, calmly, but determined all the same.

"What was that about?" Oliver asked once he had reached the top of the stairs. Damien groaned, burying himself under his duvet in an effort not to have to say anything. It was far too embarrassing. "Damien," Oliver said in a cross voice that made Damien shiver. The duvet was pulled off his head and Damien sighed, forced to look up into his boyfriend's face and confront the truth. "Let me guess," Oliver said. "You slept together?"

"Gods no," Damien hissed.

"Then what?"

"I mean..." Damien sighed. "Look she's very psychical and she seems to hit on most of her students and I, just..."

"You're jealous," Oliver said with a laugh. Damien growled, pulling the duvet over his head once more. The last thing he wanted right now was to be laughed at. "Oh honey, no, don't pout. Look, I admit that before you I had two serious girlfriends. But none of that matters now, because I'm with you baby." Perhaps it was Oliver's assuring voice, or perhaps it was the fact that he had called him baby but Damien couldn't stay mad or worried for very long. Poking his head out of the top of the duvet, he eyed Oliver. His face was so earnest, so reassuring that Damien had no choice but to believe him.

"It's not really you, I'm worried about," Damien admitted, though, he would be lying if he said the thought hadn't crossed his mind. She was pretty after all if you were into that sort of thing. A young-ish, redheaded woman, with a bright smile and lots of freckles.

Oliver merely grinned, "Oh, I'll make sure she gets the message babe," he promised. "But I would very much like to learn how to ski. I'll be fine, I promise." Something about Oliver's assurances gave Damien an enormous comfort. Even if he didn't trust Jenny.

"Well then, we'd better get you ready," he said, hopping out of bed excitedly, running over to the closet. It was stuffed full with several ski outfits, each one gaudier than the last.

"Babe," Oliver called from behind him. Damien turned around from his search. "Not that I don't love your fashion sense," he said, clearly eyeing a hot pink number that Damien had his hand on at present. "But I don't think I'm going to fit into your clothes."

Damien turned back towards his closet, considering this for a brief moment, Oliver was right. Not only was he a good head taller than Damien (a fact which Damien reminded himself of often), he was quite a bit broader too. Delicious though these facts were, they did present something of a problem for Damien when it came to trying to figure out what Oliver should wear to ski in.

"I'm sure I'll be fine in what I have with me," Oliver suggested. "I tend to run hot anyway." Damien resisted the urge, only just, not to make a comment about that particular statement. While he had noticed that his boyfriend did seem to run more on the warm side at the best of times, he was still a touch worried. Temperatures in the mountains could get bitterly cold and the last thing he wanted was for Oliver to get frostbite.

"At least make sure you take an extra coat. I'm sure something of my father's might fit," he suggested. It was a long shot, his father was as lanky as he was, with perhaps a bit more around the middle. Either way, that was their best hope.

"Alright, alright," Oliver said with a smirk. Damien grinned, running over to Oliver to press a kiss to his lips. Oliver grinned. "Better not start this, or we'll never leave this room," he purred.

Damien was tempted. He could certainly be happy spending the next two weeks just wrapped up in Oliver's arms, but he wasn't sure that was exactly fair to Oliver. He had never skied before, and he seemed rather eager to learn, so, Damien shrugged, why not? Pulling back with some amount of effort, Damien sighed, looking dreamily up into Oliver's eyes. "Sorry, I just can't resist a little kiss."

Oliver smirked, "Later darling. We'll have all the time in the world." Damien nodded and made his way towards the stairs. It was somewhat true, they did have quite a bit of time, but no matter how much he wanted it too, it never quite felt like enough.