Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What,” Rochert said, “the fuck.”

He’d spoken right before Jord had the chance to. Jord, who was standing by the food table of spiked punch and overpriced sushi, his glass halfway to his mouth as he watched Damen and Laurent kiss.

It was actually quite ridiculous, the amount of people who were staring at them. It was a big school with a prestige name, but the interest in teenage gossip was just as big. Damen and Laurent were both well liked in their own ways, both with their own alumnus older brothers who’d paved the way for their social status, and their ongoing rivalry was no secret to anyone. Jord couldn’t even begin to count the number of times Laurent had stared across the football field at Damen and voiced every profanity that came to mind, and now he was standing on his tippy toes so he could wind his arms around Damen’s neck.

“What the fuck,” Huet repeated.

“Come on,” Lazar said. “It’s not like we didn’t know they were fucking.”

“Well, obviously,” Orlant said, looking down at Lazar. “But not –“ he motioned to them, waving his hand around. “Look at them. Laurent is smiling.”

Jord had been friends with Laurent for years. He knew him better than Laurent acted like he did, and he’d seen him laugh, smile, be at ease. That wasn’t new. What was new was how unapologetic he seemed about it, or about the way Damen was smiling back at him.

Lazar just shrugged. He turned his attention to Pallas, who was currently sitting on his lap. He’d seemed a bit shy at first, blinking in surprise when Lazar carelessly pulled him down and wrapped an arm around him, but that passed fairly quickly with a few drinks and a few minutes of Lazar nuzzling at his neck like no one else was around. “Did you know?”

Pallas shrugged too, glancing at them across the ballroom. “Damen doesn’t really talk about these things,” he said. “But Nikandros probably did.”

Jord watched as they made their way through a crowd of people, glistening lights dusting them in flashes of color. Damen was holding Laurent close to his side as they approached the table Vannes and Talik were sitting at, Talik reapplying Vannes’ lipstick for her. When they turned their backs to them to speak to the girls, Jord could just make out that Damen’s hand was in Laurent’s back pocket.

“Unbelievable,” Rochert said, who had apparently noticed the same thing. “Have you ever known anyone to gab Laurent’s ass and not get their fingers bitten off?”

“It’s the sex,” Orlant said. “All that time spent together working on the project, their aggression needed to go somewhere.”

“Laurent is blushing,” Huet said emphatically. “And holding his hand. Their fucking pinkies are tangled.”

Jord didn’t think it was just the sex. He’d noticed Laurent’s mood those past few weeks, the wavering of his attention and the decreasing creativity that came with his scathing observations about Damen. The week before in study hall someone had called out Damen’s name across the library and Jord had seen the way Laurent’s head rose from his book before he seemed to catch himself, lowering his eyes back down.

Jord was watching him now, and he saw the moment Laurent turned his head and caught his eye, his blue gaze roaming over their side of the room. He heard Lazar whistle and saw him make a gesture with his hand out of his peripheral vision, and they all watched as Laurent tilted his head up and said something into Damen’s ear. Damen turned to face them as well, and it was with a notable lack of hesitation that Laurent’s finger circled Damen’s belt loop, pulling him towards the waiting group.

Chapter Text

“Laurent,” Damen said, again.

Laurent didn’t respond. Partially because he was busy, but mainly because Damen needed to learn he wasn’t going to get his way every time he said Laurent’s name like that. He made a noncommittal sound instead, waving a hand above his shoulder and turning the page of his textbook.

“There’s no way you’re still reading,” Damen said, speaking from his spot on his bed where he was laying on his back, sprawled across the middle. Laurent was on the floor, leaned back against the bedpost so he could prop his book up on his knees. Nothing productive would come out of lying next to Damen while he worked.

“I’m studying,” Laurent corrected.

“So take a break,” Damen said. “Frequent breaks improve focus and absorption of the material.”

Laurent made a small notation next to one of his written paragraphs. “I’m flattered by your concern.”

Damen blew out a long breath, and Laurent restrained himself from climbing onto the bed and kissing him. He really did need to get this finished, but he also liked how Damen got when he grew childishly impatient.

Laurent heard as Damen dropped the football he had been tossing up and down aside, the mattress squeaking as he turned onto his stomach and moved forward. He didn’t try and touch Laurent, but Laurent could see from a glance up into the mirror how Damen had his chin pressed into the sheets. He lowered his face when Laurent didn’t react, muttering into the bed. “Why did you come over if you planned on ignoring me?”

Laurent’s hadn’t planned to come over, if that counted for anything. It just ended up happening, to which Damen didn’t object. The humid spring air had prompted Laurent to take a quick shower and it was only when he came out that he realized that his impulsive decision left him without clean clothes, so he’d resorted to slipping on Damen’s jersey that he’d left out on a chair. It wasn’t the first time Laurent had tried it on, and Damen had seemed to assume that it would be a repeat performance of the previous times he’d worn it because when he’d walked into his bedroom to find Laurent like that, his eyes had lit up in a way that had almost made Laurent reconsider his intentions.

But, he really did need to study. So he’d walked past Damen and picked up his bag, and ignored the small frown and pouted lips as he sat on the floor and pulled his health book out.

“Call Nikandros if you’re bored,” Laurent suggested.

“I can’t do the things I want with Nikandros.”

Laurent tilted his head back “So do them with yourself.”

Damen blinked. Laurent grinned, unable to stop himself, and lifted himself just enough to press his lips to Damen’s cheek before turning back to his book, another muffled groan sounding from above him.

Chapter Text

It was cold out that night. Not as bad as it often got in Delpha, but it was considerably chilly for mid April. The fire pit between them all helped, sparking in pops and illuminating their faces. Laurent‘s weight on his lap didn’t hurt matters, either.

“Kesus is too humid in the spring,” Rochert was saying. “We should just go somewhere north.”

“Too cold,” Pallas said.

“It’s no one else’s fault that none of you can handle a little wind,” Orlant said. “Lazar, explain how this works to your husband.”

“Ignore them, baby,” Lazar said, slumped down low enough on the couch that he was nearly horizontal. “They’re just scared to sweat.”

Damen rubbed a hand against Laurent’s stomach, smiling to himself when he felt him incline into the touch. “Laurent isn’t.”

“Please,” Nikandros said, from his spot on the opposite end of the circle where he was sprawled with his feet kicked up, his face tilted upwards. “Stop.”

“How did you turn out to be such a prude?” Laurent asked.

“Trust me,” Kashel said, leaning forward to ash out her cigarette. “He’s not.”

To Damen’s left, Aktis locked his phone and tossed it onto the stone, leaning forward and resting his weight on his knees. “Finals are over in a week,” he said. “We need to just pick a place and settle.”

“How about Kempt?” Jord said. “Bars and beaches.”

They did have good bars there. Damen and Laurent had gone for winter break to visits Laurent’s cousins from his mother’s side, and Laurent had taken him to try out every pub within walking distance from their house. They’d both gotten incredibly drunk, which had resulted in a very handsy Laurent and a Damen who didn’t always register that they were in public.

“I’m in,” Vannes said. “I hear the beaches are topless, I need to even out my tan.”

“I’m in,” Orlant said.

After Vannes threw a lighter at his head and the rest of the group agreed, the conversation turned to the blood drive their school was hosting the following week. Laurent shifted himself so he could look back at Damen, ignoring the back and forth behind him. “Are you coming over after school tomorrow?”

“I have a game.”

“Your games are at seven.”

Damen slipped a hand up the back of Laurent’s shirt, feeling the dip of his back. “You know I can’t before a game,” he murmured.

Laurent raised a brow, tugging on the string of Damen’s hoodie. “And I need to suffer because of that?”

Damen dropped his head on Laurent’s shoulder. He wanted to shake him, or carry him away from everyone else. He heard Laurent’s small breath of laughter in his ear, and it only intensified the feeling. He turned his head, still pressed against Laurent, just enough that he could speak into his neck. “After my game,” he said, thumb grazing his spine. “You can congratulate me.”

“Look at them,” Huet said, followed by a displeased sound from at least two other people.

Laurent paid them no mind. He made the same breathy sound, the light laugh he had when he was tired, or under Damen in bed. He touched Damen’s shoulder. “What if you lose?”

He wouldn’t. But still, it was fun to entertain.

He lifted his head to look at Laurent. “Then you get to decide what we do.”

Chapter Text

“And that’s it?” Laurent asked.

“That’s all I would change, yeah,” Damen said.

Laurent looked over the paper in his hands, his eyes skimming the edited parts quickly. There weren’t too many, a few red marks and a line or two added. One of the revisions held a significant amount of Damen’s voice in it, and there was something about the thought of reading that in front of the entire school that Laurent liked.

“All right,” Laurent said, capping the pen. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Damen said, leaning his head down to accept Laurent’s kiss.

He leaned his head back on the cushion after, happy to get the valedictorian speech done with and behind him. It wasn’t that writing it had been an issue, just that finding the time to fit it into everything going on lately had been a little hectic. He simply hadn’t anticipated the need to. Auguste hadn’t in his year, after all. When Laurent’s name had been called the previous week during morning announcements, he’d looked forward in stunned silence amidst the claps of all the equally meriting people around him. Then Damen had turned around from the pew ahead of him with such a bright smile that Laurent thought his heart might burst from it, and sound began to slowly flow back in.

Laurent heard the rustle of fabric to his left, and he turned his head to see Damen with his own body turned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Damen said. “Just – you know.”

Laurent looked at him. At his warm eyes, and the way his shirtsleeves strained against his arms, and the way didn’t seem able to conceal anything he was feeling. Laurent folded the paper once, setting it down on the couch behind them.

“Damen,” he said.

Damen looked down at their legs, grabbing the hand that Laurent had lifted to Damen’s chest. He held it for a moment, leaving it there before kissing the back of his fingers and setting it down on his knee.

“I know,” Damen said. “It’s just a semester.”

“And a whole month of traveling before that.”

Damen met his eyes. “Before nearly half a year apart.”

Something in Laurent sunk, down his throat and to the pit of his stomach. He felt that same rebellious anger towards his father threaten to rise, and he carefully repressed it. He wasn’t interested in the gift of nepotism, something he’d made clear from the get-go. Auguste may have been interested in working for their father straight out of high school, but it simply wasn’t what Laurent had wanted. He had different goals, and different priorities, both of which had thankfully taken only a handful of conversations and the backing of his mother to be understood.

And so, an agreement. Laurent would intern for his father’s company’s headquarters in Arles for one semester, and after that he could make the decision of how he wanted to proceed, never mind that he already knew what that decision would be. Laurent was giving his father five months, and then he was going to the University of Delpha to study law and to be with Damen.

All it took was a slight pivot of Laurent’s body and a different placement of his hand before he was settled on Damen’s lap, Damen’s hands at his hips. With their seating on the floor and the slight elevation that Damen’s legs gave him, it was enough to bring them to eye level.

“You can come with me,” Laurent said.

“You know I can’t.”

“And I can’t come with you,” Laurent said. “Yet. So stop pouting.”

Damen frowned. “I don’t pout.“

Laurent ignored that. “We have an entire summer together.” He said, winding his arms behind Damen’s neck. As familiar as the gesture was for him now, something about doing it still made his stomach swoop. “We can go wherever we want, and do whatever we want. We won’t need to listen to anyone.”

When all Damen did was nod, Laurent kissed the side of his mouth. “Just think of all the different hotel beds you’ll get to fuck me in.”

Damen’s expression did the same thing it always did when Laurent told him things like that, and he couldn’t stop himself from taking his face in his hands and kissing him again. Slower, longer.

“It won’t be that long,” Laurent murmured when he pulled away, thumbing at Damen’s jawline. “And it’s not that far.”

“I’m not sure how you got valedictorian if you’re that poor at geography,” Damen said.

Laurent’s thumb moved to the line of his neck. “I’ve been distracting you so I could win.”

Laurent didn’t try to pull away when Damen grabbed his hand a second time. “Who’s going to distract me when we’re apart?”

“I’ll still distract you,” Laurent said, feeling himself shiver when Damen’s hand slid up his shirt. “With phone calls. And video calls.” His hand moved higher, and everything was hazy. “And pictures.”

“Yeah?” Damen said, unable to stop his spreading grin when Laurent’s hands went to his belt buckle. He was an idiot, and Laurent loved him.

“Yeah,” Laurent said, before allowing himself to be pushed down onto his back

Chapter Text

The bottom line about football was simple: Damen was great at it. The best even, at least at Artes. It wasn’t pomposity, just a simple statement of facts, the way a doctor didn’t get bigheaded over saving lives. When you have a skill, especially one you’re passionate about, it was more straightforward to just call it as it was. For Damen, one of those things were football.

The thing was, Damen’s skillset in sports came with what he sometimes viewed as a downside. The assurance that he would win the school every game was a good thing of course, but it was also so predictable. He loved the adrenaline and the comradery that came with playing, but more often than not it just felt like going through the motions. Catch. Run. Tackle. Win. And when it was a night like that one where the guys all had plans and Damen’s first option couldn’t be an option at all, he was just eager for halftime to be over so he could get back to the game, get the final touchdown and go find something to occupy the rest of his night.

Damen rubbed the heel of his hand against his forehead as the cheerleaders blended into their last song (hopefully) before turning away from the scoreboard. His eyes scanned the crowd instead, mindlessly, taking in the usual colors, banners and cheers. It was nice. Really, it was, but Damen didn’t –

Damen paused. Movie-like, the sound of the unified chants seemed to fade away to some careless part of his mind as he squinted, taking a single step forward. He ignored the hand on his shoulder as he took another step, automatic, and then he was laughing.

“Where are you – “ one of his teammates said, but Damen didn’t turn to see who had spoken. The quickest way to get to the other side of the field was to simply cut through it, and so Damen did.

Damen tried to be courteous to the performance that was going on, certain that they wanted the attention on them and only them. His stride quickly became a sprint, his head lowered to avoid any feral eye contact, but that didn’t stop a few shocked squeals when Damen edged through a dance number or the irritated calls, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t, not when he was slowing down to a jog with just enough momentum to reach the stands, lean in and take Laurent’s face in his hands.

His cheeks were cold and his lips were spread in a grin, and Damen could feel his own smile take shape as they kissed like that, Laurent’s hands coming out to grasp at as much of his fitted jersey as he could. It had been a few days but it was still too long, and Damen only felt the presence of the hundreds of people watching when he finally managed to pull himself away.

A few people above them whooped. If Laurent noticed he didn’t show it, his expression as clear and open as the blackened sky above them. Damen brushed a thumb across his cheekbone, pressed their foreheads together, pressed one more kiss to his mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Damen asked. “I thought you were away.”

“I was away,” Laurent said. “But I couldn’t risk the chance of watching you lose.”

Damen smiled again. “I never lose.”

“First time for everything,” Laurent said. His eyes flicked to something over Damen’s shoulder. “I think you’re needed.”

“It can wait.” Really, it couldn’t. “Are you staying?”

“You think I drove three hours for a halftime show?”

Damen’s heart felt tight in his chest. He leaned a little further into the bleachers. “I think – “

“Damianos!”

Damen winced just for appearances sake. Coach Makedon was loud, but their stadium was massive. If he was hearing him that clearly then it could only be a personal invitation. “Get your ass back on the field.”

Damen lifted a hand in acknowledgment. He should go. He had to go.

Laurent’s lips were soft, less urgent than the first time. He was the one who pulled away, his hands on Damen’s chest and his eyes bright.

“Go,” he said, pushing lightly. “I’ll be right here.”