Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey, dude. Are you doing okay?”

Huxley’s voice is soft, barely audible over the roar of the engines. Or maybe - maybe it’s just the rush of the blood in Damien's ears, the way his heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his freaking chest. The cabin has increased in temperature a couple of degrees, and he can see the way the cabin crew have started to discuss it, their expressions pinched with increasing concern, and fuck.

“Damien.” He releases the breath he’s been holding, glancing down as he feels a cool touch against his wrist. Huxley’s grip could easily swamp his own, swallowing the span of it - but he doesn’t do anything more than just rest his fingertips against the inside of it.

But Damien is - hot. He’s trying to hold it in, but he knows from his impact on the environment around him that he’s not gonna be comfortable to touch. He shifts his hand, trying to break the contact - but Huxley just moves closer, ducking his head to catch his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just look at me.”

Taking another breath, Damien does, clenching his jaw as the plane shakes once again, sending tremors running through their seats, his stomach rolling. Turbulence. That’s all this was. Bumpy air. Nothing that the human crew of this tin-can death trap couldn’t handle.

“I’m not a great flyer,” he admits through gritted teeth. Huxley lets out a soft laugh, his dark eyes creasing a little at the corners.

“I figured. But really - no worries. Can I take your hand?”

The hand at his wrist lifts, flipping over to reveal a broad palm and soft calluses.

Damien frowns at it. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Huxley’s lips twist into a crooked grin. “Besides, I can handle it.”

I’ve handled worse, is left unsaid - and right. They don’t talk about that.

Still. Damien is better than this. He can do better than this. Keeping his eyes on his, he takes another long, steadying breath. Holds it for the count of five, before letting go. Huxley just watches and waits, his dark eyes soft, giving him space. It’s comforting, in its own way.

He’s an anchor point. A harbour amidst the turbulent storm of his emotions and fears.

Another breath, and he can feel the heat retreating back beneath his skin, into his core. The temperature in the cabin evens out, the air conditioning units working overtime, and there’s less concern in the expressions of the cabin crew. Good.

He glances back at Huxley’s offered hand, resting casually on the arm rest between them, palm up, and after another moment of hesitation, he takes it.

He pretends not to see the wide grin that takes over Huxley’s face as he laces their fingers together.

--

One of Huxley’s moms had called ahead to let them know she’d pick them up at the airport. It wasn’t necessary - Damien had been more than happy to cover the cost of a taxi, but Hux had laughed him off when he’d suggested it, not taking the request seriously. When he’d been quite serious. Really, very serious.

He’s nervous. Really, goddamn nervous. He’d wanted more time - but the fates had had other plans.

Which meant that the first time Damien meets one of the most important people in his closest friend’s life, it was after a five hour red-eye flight, tired and grimy from the dry, circulated air.

“Mom, I want you to meet Damien. He’s my… friend. The one I told you about.”

Damien knows he looks like a wreck. He’d caught a glimpse of his reflection in a shop kiosk window as they’d left the airport - his hair was a mess, his skin drawn with dark shadows beneath his eyes - but still, he plasters on a smile and offers his hand. He’s careful with the temperature, maybe airing on the cold side, just to be safe.

“It’s good to meet you.”

Huxley’s mom looks - amused. She’s younger than he thought she’d be, dressed casually in warm colours and long beaded jewelry, but her eyes are kind as she returns his smile, squeezing his hand gently. She’s not afraid of his heat, he realises with a start, even though she must know what he is. It’s a gesture he appreciates.

“Lovely to meet you too, dear. Huxley has told us so much about you.”

There’s a soft cough to his side, and Damien glances over to see the earth elemental shuffling on his feet. His cheeks are flushed, and Damien wonders if he’s feeling okay after the flight. Before he has the chance to ask though, Huxley cuts him off.

“I think we’re ready to go, mom.”

Her kind eyes are twinkling. “Of course, bear. Let’s go.”

--

Bear. The nickname suits him, Damien thinks, as they set about loading the suitcases into the back of the car, once they've reached the airport parking lot.

Huxley’s mom drives an old station wagon, one that has seen better days but has clearly had a lot of time and love invested in it. It’s larger than he’d expected, but that makes sense, he realises, as he watches Huxley lift both suitcases easily, slotting them side-by-side inside the trunk.

He pictures him as a teenager, all long limbs and clumsy proportions, and has to smother a smirk. Yeah. The extra space makes sense.

Huxley notices his expression, as of course he does. “What are you thinking about, dude?”

Fiddling with the straps on his backpack, Damien tilts his head as he considers his friend. “Bear?”

Huxley’s reaction is immediate, a sheepish smile crossing his features as a flush creeps up his neck, heating his cheeks. “You uh, heard that, huh?”

Damien isn’t hiding his smirk anymore. “It was hard to miss.”

“He’s our little bear,” His mom explains before Huxley can come up with anything else, and Damien grins wider as the flush on Hux’s cheeks darkens. “Come on, we’ve still got quite a drive ahead of us.”

--

Huxley still looks embarrassed as they make their way around the car, and Damien bumps his shoulder, offering him an honest smile. “It's cute.”

He means it, and Huxley gets that, a small crooked grin brightening his features as he reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. "Thanks, Dames."

Chapter Text

It’s about a two hour drive to the small mountain town that Huxley and his family call home.

The drive is a pleasant one, for the most part, winding through seemingly endless forests of green - and it’s not as if they didn’t have trees in California, the redwoods were pretty fucking impressive, but something about this endless wilderness feels different.

It probably has a lot to do with how the trees are packed tight enough to block out the light, especially when they drive deeper in, and it’s under the flicker of these shadows that Damien falls asleep, lulled by the gentle murmur of conversation from the front.

A warm touch against his knee wakes him - and he jerks awake to find Huxley leaning in from the other side of the car, dark eyes wide as he lifts his hands into the air, fingers spread wide and open.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No- it’s okay. We’re here?”

Huxley’s expression breaks into a soft grin, crooked at the edges, his eyes creasing with it.

“Yeah. This is home.”

It’s - different than how Damien had imagined. Not in a bad way, not at all. Just, unexpected.

It fits into that charming little architectural style he’d seen in the towns on their way up with that rustic feel, low slung and sprawling, with an expansive set of gardens on either side. Damien sees the handcrafted wooden shutters, the charms hung around the door, and it slots neatly into place in the image he's starting to put together of Huxley’s moms, and the life Huxley lived growing up.

It’s green and vibrant and alive and Huxley looks as if he belongs here, with his hair unbound and curling around his jawline.

His mom is already making her way up the winding drive as Huxley grabs the bags out of the back of the car, ‘to start some tea brewing, you boys need it’.

Huxley sends him after her, waving him off when Damien tries to help- “I’ve got it, really. Take a load off, get some hot liquid in you. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

–

Inside, the house is as sprawling and eclectic as the outside had predicted. Once Damien has been handed a steaming mug of tea that’s absolutely too hot to drink, Huxley takes his hand to give him the grand tour, leaving his mom in the kitchen.

The place is a maze of rooms, decorated with the same charms that adorned that outside and stuffed to the brim with furniture. But it’s comfortable, and well-cared for, and it warms something in him as he watches Hux move around in it, navigating the clutter with an ease born from years of practice.

It feels like a home, and he can recognise the hallmarks of it in Hux’s new place in Dahlia; see the shape of what he’s trying to build there.

The impromptu tour ends back at his room, where his backpack and suitcase are waiting at the end of the low-slung bed. Huxley watches from the doorway as he makes his way inside, a lopsided smile on his face that Damien can’t figure out.

He glances around the room, trying to see what’s off, before catching his gaze. “What?”

Huxley's grin widens, before he lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug, leaning back against the doorframe. “Nothing. Just thinking about how happy I am to see you here.”

A flush of heat rushes through him, and shit. Huxley continues before he can do anything more than fight to keep the heat within his skin, gesturing at the door across from his. “My room is just over there, if you need anything. You can wash up in the ensuite.”

Pushing off from the frame, he takes a step back into the hall. “Take your time, Dames. We’ve got no plans today.”

With another smile, he shuts the door, leaving Damien to his thoughts.

Fuck.

–

It takes Damien a few moments to collect himself, after that. And when he does, the first thing he sees is his reflection in the mirror.

Christ.

His hair is the worst kind of bedhead, slanted up at the side from where he’d fallen asleep against the car window. While he looks a little better than he had at the airport, the shadows beneath his eyes are still there, and his skin feels tacky from the flight. He looks - in all honesty - like shit.

Biting down a curse, he makes his way to the ensuite and turns the shower on.

He washes quickly, letting the hot water work on his muscles. Gods, but it feels good to wash away the grime of the airport, and with it, the last of the tension from the flight.

He - really doesn’t like flying. When he was visiting colleges, he’d driven, preferring the days long road trip to the alternative. Anything was better than trusting the whims of a pressurised tin-can.

After, he uses a little magic to dry his hair, cracking open the window to release the steam. The curl of mountain air sends a shiver down his spine, but it’s refreshing, after the heat.

When he’s finally dressed and decent, he makes his way down the hall to the main rooms.

He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. He was just trying to navigate the warren of the living room without knocking over a lamp, but when he hears the low rumble of Huxley’s voice he slows, unable to help himself.

Huxley is laughing, a soft, rolling sound, and it’s been too fucking long since Damien has heard it like that, gentle and unrestrained. “...’d like him. He’s funny as all hell.”

“So. He’s the reason you chose to stay in Dahlia?”

“Mom-”

“Bear.” There’s a smile in the pet name, motherly and imposing. “You forget that I raised you. I know you, and I know that look you get when you’re with him… although it’s the first time I've seen it on you.”

Damien’s heart thumps hard inside his chest, before he steps forward again, louder this time, so that they can hear him. Huxley’s expression when he walks in is like sunlight flooding the room.

“Hey, Dames! You’re looking better.” He’s perched against the kitchen counter, a mug of tea held comfortably within his grip. He’s changed out of the sweats he’d worn on the flight into something more athletic, as if he’d been preparing for a run. “I didn’t expect you back yet - thought you’d catch some shut-eye.”

He looks unfairly good for what had been an early start and a long, uncomfortable day of travel. But then again, he’s used to it - Damien knew that his practice started early in the day, before class, and Hux was always up an hour before that for warm ups.

Damien, on the other hand, did his training at night. Burning off the excess energy and pent up tension from the day, running until he was exhausted enough he’d fall asleep the minute his head hit the sheets.

“It’s okay, I got enough sleep on the flight.” If only just. He takes a seat at the table, accepting the fresh mug of tea that’s passed to him. It’s a herbal mix, chamomile, with a little something else sweet, maybe honey. He breathes the steam in deep. It’s good.

Huxley doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push the point. “If you’re sure.” Reaching his arms back in a stretch, he glances at the clock. “We don’t have any plans until later, when Mama D gets off work.”

Diana, he remembers, from conversations with Huxley before. Tanja is seated at the kitchen table across from him, a smile playing on her lips as she looks between them, her hands busy with a piece of craftwork. It’s textile magic, Damien realises; charms of warding and protection stitched within the embroidery.

“I have to spend some more time on this commission, if you want to show Damien around?”

Huxley’s expression brightens, and he pushes away from the counter. “That's a great idea, mom. We’ll get out of your hair.” Ducking down, he plants a kiss on her proffered cheek, before turning back to Damien. “Think you’re up for a hike? We won’t go far, I promise.”

After hours spent sitting in a tiny, cramped aeroplane cabin, there’s honestly nothing else he’d like more. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Huxley takes him down an overgrown path that leads from his backyard into the mountains. There’s a place he’d like to show him, he explains as they walk, just a short hike away. “It’ll be worth it.”

It’s beautiful out here, the air fresh and clean in a way that Damien hadn’t realised he’d been missing, after so many years in the city. Wrapped up in an old windbreaker - Huxley’s, he thinks, from when he was a teenager, the sleeves just a little long on him - he breathes in deep, relishing the way the air chills his lungs, cooling his core.

It’s almost enough to keep his mind off the conversation from earlier. Almost, but not quite.

It’s just… He’d be an idiot to get his hopes up. He doesn’t know which of their friends Tanja had been referring to, and Huxley and him were just - friends. Close friends. And that was enough. It would always be enough.

“You good, Dames?”

Shit. He's walking fast, he realises, and he takes a breath, forcing himself to slow down and match the pace Hux has set. His dark eyes are on his, pinched with worry at the corners, and that’s the last thing Damien wants.

“Yeah. Just, a lot on my mind.”

“Alright.” His voice is soft, and Damien can tell he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t push it. He never pushes when it comes to Damien, giving him space when he needs it. It’s something he appreciates, more than he can put into words. “We’re nearly there. Just over that ridge.”

By the time they’ve reached the summit, Damien’s heart rate is up and his thighs are burning, a pleasant ache that usually follows after a workout, compounded by the altitude.

But there’s no doubt in his mind that the exertion was worth it when he catches sight of the view.

“Holy shit.”

Huxley grins, leaning back on his heels, his hands in his pockets as he takes it in, the wind dancing in his hair. “I know, right?”

A valley is spread out before them, a vast landscape of changing leaves and outcroppings of rust-coloured rock that break through the canopy, the clay that gives the rock its colours brilliant in the midday sun.

“I love it here.” His voice is low, reverent. Backlit like this, he’s as much a part of the scenery as anything else, sunkissed and beautiful in this light. It almost hurts to look at him.

After a few minutes, Huxley leads him to a small campsite hidden amongst a thicket of trees, the wide trunks acting as a windbreak. Together, they set up the small camping stove that Huxley had brought with him, taking out the packets of tea and trail mix he’d packed for the hike.

Once they’re both seated in front of the kettle, waiting for the water to boil, Huxley releases a long, slow breath, his knee brushing up against Damien’s where they’re both seated on the same log.

“Thanks, Dames.” There’s a smile on his face when Damien meets his gaze, wide and honest. “For making this trip with me. It means a lot that you came.”

He meets his smile with one of his own, moving his leg over until he can press his thigh against his. His heart feels full. Warm. “Of course, Hux.”

It doesn't take long for the water to boil, steam whistling from the kettle. Huxley switches off the burner, placing tea bags in their mugs before adding the water and handing him a steaming, fragrant mug. “You’ll need to let it steep,” he reminds him with a crooked grin as he wraps his hands around his own mug.

The warmth of the steam and the ceramic chases away the chill, and he breathes in deep. Chamomile and honey. He'll have to remember that.

They sit there like that, watching the landscape for a few long moments. It's Huxley that breaks the comfortable silence that's fallen between them, his voice soft in the hushed quiet. “About... about earlier. If you want to talk… you know I’m here.”

When he glances over, he sees that Huxley has turned to face him, his expression earnest, honest. He means it, and it's because of that, that Damien actually tells him.

“I heard you and your mom talking. I.. didn’t realise you were going to leave.”

“You heard that.” It’s not a question, but Huxley doesn’t sound surprised either. He releases a long breath, his eyes on the horizon. It's a long moment before he speaks again.

“They wanted me to come home.” The wind swirls around them, bringing with it the sweetness of the tea. “I understand their reasons. After everything that happened…”

They don’t talk about it. Not in specific terms, at least. There’s a level of understanding here that means they don’t have to; that means when Damien calls Hux in the middle of the night, he’ll be there, to talk or train, or whatever he needs to get him through it. And Damien would do the same for him.

“But I wasn’t… willing to give up the life I was making there. My friends. My - family.”

His voice cracks.

“We’ve all been through so much together.” Huxley takes a breath, and his voice drops, a low rumble in the quiet between them. “But, if I’m being honest - and I always want to be honest about things like this - it was you.”

He takes another breath, and it’s shaky, even as he meets his gaze again, holds it. “I care for you, Damien. More than just… friends.”

His mouth is suddenly dry, and he can feel every thump of his heart inside of his chest. Huxley’s eyes on him are open and honest, flickering between his, before he swallows.

“If… if that’s too much, we don’t have to- I’m not trying to say that I expect anything. I just… wanted you to know.”

“Wait.” His heart is in his throat, but he manages to get the words out. “I- I feel the same way about you, Hux.”

Huxley is still watching him, a softness in his expression that’s echoed in his voice. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He puts down his mug and reaches out until he can take his hand, the shape of them wide and familiar between his. Callused fingers, rough palms. He squeezes, and Huxley squeezes back. “I- I’ve thought about you. And, us. For a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

He’s wanted this for so long, the idea of it actually happening doesn’t feel real. He doesn’t - get what he wants. Not like this, not without earning it.

He didn't think that Huxley would... that Huxley could.

“You really…” He can’t get the words out, but Huxley understands him without them, his hand squeezing around his. He doesn’t rush him, letting him sort through his thoughts, even when all he wants to do is laugh. Fuck. “Will this make it awkward with your moms?”

Huxley snorts. “Nah. They love you already. How could they not?” Very easily. But before Damien can open his mouth to refute his logic, he continues. “Plus, they just want to see me happy. And you - you make me happy.”

Shit. There’s a heat rising in his chest, radiating up his throat, into his cheeks. He keeps it beneath his skin, if only barely; tempers it, as Huxley traces his thumb along his wristbone, the touch so fucking gentle that he thinks that he’ll break.

He wants to do this right. There is - so much he wants to say, so much that needs to be said, but what comes out of his mouth instead is, “Can I kiss you?”

The smile that breaks out across Huxley’s face is brighter than the sun, and filled with just as much warmth. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that.”

He doesn’t know which one of them leaned in to close the distance first, but then Huxley’s lips are on his, soft and warm, and he doesn’t care about the how anymore.

His lips are chapped from the cold, but all he can taste is the sweet tea they’d shared in the kitchen earlier, the faint taste of honey on his lips. The hand not held in his rises to cradle his cheek, his palm warm as his thumb caresses his cheek.

They’re both breathless when they finally break apart. “Fuck, Dames.” Damien can’t help but laugh, echoing the sentiment. Fuck.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

–

The sun has started to dip in the sky by the time they finally make it back to the house, hand-in-hand together. Huxley’s mom Tanja is waiting for them at the door, her warm eyes sparkling as she takes them both in.

There’s a smile playing on her lips as she takes a step back, welcoming them into her home.

“We’ve been waiting for you.”