Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 21 - Unreliable Data

Damien, surprisingly, was on time. Lucas was five minutes early and he'd only been waiting for four minutes, flicking through some Economics notes, when he heard the familiar jingle of the door's bell. There he was. Silhouetted against the sunlight windows, hair tousled from his helmet, wearing a sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal toned, bronze-brown forearms. Lucas quickly glanced back to his notes.

"Did you finish the essay?"

"Yeah." Damien grinned, walking into the kitchen and pushing back his mess of dark curls. "All thanks to you, genius."

He smiled, right at Lucas, a confusing blend of teasing sincerity, and Lucas had to turn away. Not before he caught sight of that stupid dimple. A perfect little dip in his cheek, the kind of place you could press a kiss to.

Lucas fought the urge to bash himself over the head with the nearest rolling pin. That had been sappy and pathetic. Not to mention the fact it was about Damien. He vowed to stop all trains of thought like that before they left the station.

"Glad you've finally admitted I'm much smarter than you." Lucas said after a moment, hoping the pause hadn't been too long. All of a sudden, he felt a little awkward around Damien. Something had shifted. He was thankful for the notes, otherwise he wouldn't have known what to do with his hands.

"You're glad? Were you waiting for the day?" Damien rested both hands on the edge of the counter, leaning towards Lucas on the other side. "You just live for my approval, I see." His smile had shifted to something a little more wicked as he lowered his voice, although they seemed to be the only ones in the back. "Because I can definitely think of something you can do that I'd approve- ow!"

Lucas smacked him over the head with the sheaf of notes. "Stop it. Jesus Christ, Damien, it's not funny."

Damien had recoiled, rubbing his forehead but laughing loudly. "It definitely is. You should see your face, man."

"My face doesn't do anything." Lucas said, disproving his point by scowling fiercely at Damien.

He didn't like these games. He didn't know if it was because Damien was clearly toying with him, making fun of him, or if it was the heat under his skin when Damien used that voice. Either way, it was bad. He tugged on the collar of his shirt, trying very hard not to think of whatever Damien had been implying. It was only a joke, of course, but Lucas' imagination hadn't seemed to have gotten the memo. To dispel all images of dark bedrooms or Damien standing over him as he knelt between his legs, Lucas desperately looked for a distraction. He didn't know why his mind had taken him there, and he didn't want to find out.

He tried to keep his face neutral, normal, like it was every other week. Because it was. Damien was objectively attractive, and even though Lucas logically knew that he flirted with him as a joke, a small, hormonal part of his brain couldn't seem to tell the difference. Just stupid hormones, or something.

"Lucas?" Damien asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "You in there?"

Lucas shook his head, jerking himself back to reality. "Sorry, I was just so disgusted by the thought of doing anything with you that I had to take a minute. To stop myself from throwing up."

"Nobody else agrees with you on that. I'm very desirable, y'know."

"I've got no idea why."

"You sure? You looked pretty worked up–"

"Work. We have to work." Lucas said firmly, shutting down this stupid conversation before he lost control of it.

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