Real-ish

Game Plan

Cora~

Damian opens the door for me, probably noticing my nervousness. I walk through the open door and he follows behind me. It feels odd to take the lead, but that feeling doesn't compare to the absurdity before us.

Jason and Richy are in the middle of an all-out pillow war. The throw pillows that usually sit on the couch, which isn't too far away, are being launched with startling speed and accuracy. Jason gets nailed in the face and Richy doubles over after being whammed in the gut. They both pause their attacks to recover.

Dami shakes his head in disappointment. I start picking up the pillows that are on the ground without a word. I'm not much for a messy house, and I eventually gained the habit of cleaning up anything that can be cleaned in 2 minutes. I think I read it in some old article.

I didn't notice the boys staring at me while I gathered the pillows, but I did notice when I went to return them to the couch.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, genuinely clueless as to why they are looking at me like they are. It's just reorganizing my pillows.

"No, but, you just started cleaning up our mess for us, you know you don't need to do that right?" Jason said, almost quizzically. I'm just as confused as them, seeing as cleaning my house is a normal thing.

"Your mess, my house. I like to keep things tidy, that's all." I say with a shrug. They attempt shrugs as well, but they still seem a little put off by my actions. They start helping pick up pillows, even Damian despite his uninvolvment. I say a quiet thank you.

When we're done we sit on the couch, Richy flipping through channels on the TV.

"Ooh, Richy this one's good." I point out. Jason snickers.

"I still can't get over that name." He mutters. I purse my lips.

"Okay," I smirk. "Jasey."

He gasps comically. I shrug.

"You couldn't have picked anything less childish?" He asks, obviously appalled.

"Hey, it rhymes with mine." Richy points out. I nod.

"Yes and yes. I guess I'm not very original." I shrug, my eyes drifting back to the TV.

"Hey, why doesn't demon spawn have a dorky nickname?" Jasey points out. I raise a brow.

"Because his nickname suits him better," I state, completely unphased by the comical looks of horror I receive.

"Tell us right now. You have to. Come ooon." Richy begs. I look to my side to gauge Damian's expression. He tilts his head to the side, and he sighs.

"They'll hear it sooner or later." He admits. I nod slowly.

"Dami. Short for Damian." I say as seriously as I can. I get a stunned sort of silence in return.

"And how would you spell it?" Jasey asks. I pause to think about it.

"D-A-M-I. Why does that matter?" I question. I look to the boy in question to find that the tips of his ears are red again, and he's staring intently at the screen.

"Because it means 'my blood' in Arabic, which is his native language," Richy informs. Jason grins widely.

"And it would also be used as a term of endearment." His eyes glint. "You gave him a pet name."

I whip my head around to gape at Damian. Now I notice a pink tinge on his cheeks as well. Still, he remains staring intently at the TV.

"So..." I scramble to change the subject. "Has Tim made any progress with getting you guys back home?" I ask nervously