Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 50 - The Talk

Lucas only woke once before morning. It was early, too early. Night was teetering on the edge of dawn, a thin seam of orange light running along the horizon, just about to burst into sunrise. In his room, everything was tinged blue-grey, shapes nebulous and blurred without his glasses. But even in the half-light, even blind, he could see Damien beside him. Could feel his chest, rising and falling steadily with each breath. His face was pressed into those dark curls, and even though Damien had somehow managed to get all the blanket bunched up on his side in his sleep, and his messy sprawl of limbs was taking up most of the bed, Lucas felt sleepily, stupidly at peace. It occurred to him that this was how he wanted to wake up for the rest of his life.

By the time he woke, Lucas would have forgotten that thought. His mind had been foggy with sleep, the hour too early for anything clear or coherent. But he'd thought it. And, in that moment between night and day, sleeping and waking, it'd been true.

The next time he woke it was to the sound of whispered swearing, Spanish that Lucas' newly-awake brain was too fuzzy to even attempt to comprehend. Damien was trying to extricate his arm, an arm which Lucas had been laying on.

"Shit." Damien muttered, something Lucas could at least understand. He blinked, trying to wake himself, and when his eyes met Damien's Damien swore again. "Ah, fuck. Sorry, tesoro. Was trying not to wake you."

This time, it was well and truly day, the harsh light of the cold, clear morning forcing away any traces of sleep. Damien was dressed, looking rumpled from sleep but a lot more awake than Lucas felt.

After a moment's searching, he found his glasses, and slipped them onto his nose. Damien came into focus, hair falling in a tousled mess over his face as he was finally able to free his arm.

"You're up early." Lucas said, voice thick with sleep.

It couldn't have been past seven, and while Lucas prided himself on being able to wake up early (some of his best study was done in the mornings), this was a little too early. He was surprised, too. He'd thought Damien wouldn't have been a morning person.

"I've got a football training thing. It sort of looks bad if the captain isn't there." Damien said, clambering over Lucas to get out of bed.

Ah, he was the captain. Lucas had almost forgotten. The captain of the football team was in his bed. "Right now?" Lucas couldn't help sounding a little grumpy about it. It would've been nice to have breakfast with him, or at least cuddle.

"Right now. Believe me, I don't want to leave you half-naked in bed." He cast a long, mournful look down Lucas' bare legs. "Christ." He breathed, almost to himself, the tore his eyes away. "Maybe I can do five more minutes."

"You just said you're the captain, you can't be late." Lucas reprimanded him. Though he did arch his back and stretch, which was partially so he could watch the way Damien's eyes followed the hem of his shirt as it rose higher and higher up his bare skin.

Damien was openly staring. "You're killing me, you know that? Killing me."

"You're so dramatic."

"And you're so mean to me. I'm nothing but lovely, and this is what I get."

"You're not that nice."

"If you keep showing off your goddamn legs, I'm definitely not going to be."

Since Damien was up, Lucas decided he'd get up too. He pulled himself out of bed, and was rewarded with a distracted kiss on the forehead as Damien glanced at himself in the mirror, tugging on his wrinkled T-shirt and running a hand through his hair.