Bonus Content: Don't Tell My Brother

Damien Hits On a Signpost

A/N: This didn't really happen, but I was inspired by a comment from thescaredy_cat and thought I'd write a little something from Damien's point of view. If it I had to put it in the story, I'd put it somewhere after Chapter 30, as it reflects Lucas' and Damien's relationship and feelings at that time in the story. So here we have it: Damien hitting on a signpost, like Lucas said he would.

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Damien's POV.

It was late at night. Either that, or very early in the morning. Time was weird like that, Damien thought as he walked along the street. Was it even real? He'd have to remember to ask Lucas. Lucas would know.

This train of thought was interrupted as Damien tripped over an uneven paving stone. Alcohol had dulled his usually sharp reflexes. His limbs felt slower, a few steps behind his brain, and it took him too long to right himself and stand up straight. Despite the chill of the autumn night, he felt warm. Everything was a little fuzzy at the edges, but in a good way. As he strolled along the sidewalk, he turned to watch the headlights of the cars as they sped by, painting the night air with streaks of light. He'd never noticed how cool it looked before. And then, caught up in the profound beauty of red car backlights, Damien ran right into someone.

"Sorry, gorgeous." He said, automatically, the words falling from his tongue as smooth and sweet as honey. Flirting was almost second nature at this point, although it'd lost its fun recently. For reasons that he tried to ignore when he was sober. At least flirting got him attention, even if it wasn't from who he wanted. "Embarrassing, 'specially in front of someone so—"

Damien looked up, and the words died on his lips. A stop sign stood before him. Not a woman, not even a person, but the cold metal pole of a stop sign. Now that really was embarrassing, even for Damien, who was usually too ridiculously confident (or arrogant) to feel shame. Thank god no one had seen it. Maybe all his mother's enforced church visits had paid off, and God really was watching over him. He glanced up blearily, as if he'd be able to see the Holy Father himself looking down upon him. If he were lucky, he might even hear the words of God.

Instead, he heard someone else entirely.

"Were you just hitting on that signpost?"

Damien whirled around, a bad idea given his inebriated state. After taking a moment to stand steadily, he straightened up, crossing his arms across his chest and looking down at Lucas Sawyer, who was standing a foot or two in front of him. Too drunk to properly cover his expression, he found he was grinning. Instantly, he felt better, almost giddy with happiness. Lucas was here.

"Lucas! What're you doin' out so late?" He almost made a comment, something about late nights, or the kind of things two people could get up to so late at night, but he bit his tongue.

Lucas had said he wasn't interested. Stupid Lucas. Why wasn't he interested? Most people were interested, even if it was probably only because he was decently attractive, and had something of a knack for figuring out exactly what people wanted to hear. They liked him, or they liked feeling wanted. Damien shook his head. No, it was because he was really hot, and super charming and funny. Yeah. That sounded better. Why didn't Lucas get that? If Damien could convince himself of it (more or less, there were times when things got blurry), why couldn't he convince Lucas too?

"I'm walking you home. Remember?" Lucas wasn't really annoyed, Damien could tell, but he was trying very hard to look like he was. Cute.

"You are? Gentlemanly of you." Damien didn't remember, but it was a nice surprise. The best surprise. Lucas was walking him home. He was still ridiculously happy.