Archive of Our Own ^beta

This time was different.

Damen could feel in his bones all the ways that it was wrong, from the short walk to campus from his apartment to taking the bus whenever he needed to get groceries. But it felt even worse to think about going back to his old college or getting behind the wheel of another car.

Still, of all the things he was expecting as a 'returning' student, as a ‘non-traditional' student who had lost his football scholarship and a good deal more over half a decade ago, it wasn't the shock of blond hair. Or the twist of a scowl on a face that bore far too much resemblance to a face that never could have held an expression of such distaste.

Damen's mind chanted the name Auguste, even as he tried to correct the over-eager beating of his heart, tried to remind himself that this was someone else, that maybe the hair was a coincidence. But the fine bones couldn't be, and certainly the eyes could not be. This, then, had to be Laurent, and Damen thought there was no way the young man wouldn't be able to recognize his brother's killer.

"Look." Damen broke the silence between them, his words almost vanishing under the hum of other students entering the lecture hall. Laurent turned to him, as if startled, as if he hadn't noticed Damen come in, and the pit in the bottom of Damen's stomach grew larger. "We should talk, I mean... Do you want to go get a drink at some point?"

If anything, Laurent's gaze turned even icier, and his voice was the purr of a predator. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that it's inappropriate to hit on your teaching assistant?" Damen stared at him, and he knew he looked as flabbergasted as he felt. "Take a seat, we're about to get started."

That this was Auguste's little brother, Laurent, and that he was in fact one of the teaching assistants for Linear Algebra was confirmed as soon the professor started the class, but none of that reduced Damen's overwhelming need to talk to him. Neither did the fact that at some point after being introduced, Laurent left the class, making him nowhere to be found when Damen finally peeled himself away from panicking about how he was definitely going to fail.

Everyone that Damen had tried to ask said there was nothing that would make it worth facing the seventh hell of dealing with Laurent de Vere at eight in the morning. Even if that had been the only section left when Damen had signed up for classes, he should definitely just skip it and show up to another TA's section, preferably one held in the afternoon.

Despite that probably wonderful advice, Damen had pried himself out of bed far too early after a far too late night, still nursing a hangover. He took his seat in one of the too-small chairs next to a hot girl who returned his smile with a bright one of her own. Damen wondered if she'd be willing to study together some time, but before he could lean over and ask, Laurent entered the room and Damen focused his attention on looking contrite and not making a fool of himself.

"Your first midterm will be four weeks from now." Damen decided to admire the fact that Laurent got right into it, without regard for the fact that there were only a small handful of students there. Maybe those were all that were signed up for this section. "That may seem like too far away to care about, and if you decide that, I don't really care if you fail or not. If you do care, we'll be having class every Tuesday and Thursday, and my office hours are Thursday and Friday, five to eight."

Damen wondered how much caffeine Laurent had needed to look so entirely engaged by the idea of spending that much time talking math. Damen certainly hadn't had enough, even if he needed to pass this class to get into the engineering ones he actually wanted.

The pretty brunette next to him raised her hand.

Laurent inclined his chin at her. "Yes?"

"I'm Katie. Are there going to be any special study sessions when we get closer to the exam?"

Laurent's eyes widened. "Don't you think you should figure out if you're having problems with the material that can't be solved during normal hours first?"

She laughed — she had a very charming laugh — and her cheeks pinked. "I just like to plan ahead."

Laurent nodded. "I'll let you know when we get closer. Does anyone else have any questions about the syllabus? If not, we'll start going over the homework Dr. Stathakis assigned."

Damen's materials class conflicted with Laurent's office hours on Thursday, but on Friday he came early, in hopes that he could still go to the welcome party Nikandros' frat was throwing after. But he wouldn't be able to enjoy things with everything still heavy between himself and Laurent.

Laurent shared his office with what looked like six other graduate students, but his was the only one with a desk Damen could actually see the surface of.

"Oh, you," Laurent said, after Damen had stood there for nearly five minutes, wondering whether or not he should interrupt whatever the other man was working on. "If you're having problems this early, you should probably get a private tutor, or just drop the class."

Damen was startled away from what he'd planned to say. "I can't drop the class, I need it."

"Then maybe you should switch to an easier major."

Damen blinked, and tried to figure out where this conversation had gone wrong. "I'm not having problems, actually, I just wanted to ask you something."

"Is it about the coursework you're struggling with?"

"No, it's—"

"Then it doesn't sound like we have anything to talk about."

"Do you have a problem with me?" Damen asked, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth just how ridiculous they were.

"The good news is that math is objective. You'll either pass the course, or you'll fail it, and it will all be on your own merit."

"Yeah, okay," Damen said, and whatever else he'd wanted to say got swallowed by the look on Laurent's face, and he ended up just walking out of the office. He was halfway down the hall when he heard a shouted, "Hey!"

Damen twisted, heart half-hoping it was Laurent even if he knew it wouldn't be, and indeed the man was shorter, broader in the shoulder, looking less like the stereotypical nerd. He checked the hall again, but there was no one but him, so Damen waited for the other man to catch up. "Hey, I'm Jord. You're in Dr. Stathakis' class, right? Laurent can definitely hold a grudge, so if you need to switch sections, I can make space in one of mine."

Damen shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll be fine."

Jord blew out his breath. "You're a brave man. If you regret it, you can always come to my office hours. They're Mondays and Wednesdays, noon to three, otherwise known as hours friendly to actually having a social life."

"Yet here you are at six on a Friday." Damen could feel some of the ice that seemed to have seeped from Laurent to him thawing at the friendly conversation.

"I'm a graduate student. Even if I could pry myself away from my thesis, I don't get invited many places."

Damen laughed. "If you can free yourself away from your mistress for a little while, there's a party at Kappa Lambda Sigma this evening. You can say Damen invited you, though it's unlikely anyone'll ask."

Jord raised an eyebrow. "A frat party."

Damen shrugged, unapologetic. "You know they're the best."

Jord couldn't explain, even to himself, what had brought him to a frat party on the word of some student from a section that wasn't his, and he was absolutely certain that this was a terrible idea. Laurent would have told him it was a terrible idea, but Laurent responded to just about every suggestion with that particular attitude, and Jord had long since given up asking.

Still, he knew better, especially when it came to frat parties, but here he was anyway, sipping at the water he'd gotten himself from the tap and trying desperately to pretend he wasn't the most awkward person in the room. Trying to convince himself that this was fun, that he was having fun, that he hadn't forgotten how to have fun.

He was braced for lots of things, but most of them involved awkwardly slinking out without talking to anyone. When he heard a scream coming from one of the upstairs rooms he took the stairs two at a time. He spent a moment trying to figure out which door it could have come from before he decided to start just opening them at random.

The first door contained a boy and a girl, both of whom gave him confused thumbs up when he asked if everything was okay, but the second had a young man cornered and two larger men, one with his hand over the boy's mouth.

"Hey," Jord said. "Leave him alone."

"What's it to you?" Neither of the men looked very intimidated by his sudden appearance. Still, they were probably drunk, and the one they had captive looked like a fighter if Jord could get them to let go of him.

Jord took a step forward. "I'm the one telling you."

"Want him for yourself?"

"Man, he isn't worth this," the other one said, and Jord focused his attention on that man, sensing him as the weak link.

"I'll give you this chance to leave without bringing anyone else into it." Jord said, but he was still memorizing their faces, because he had his priorities but he didn't like the idea of them having a second chance to try again, or with someone else.

"Fine." One of them released the young man with a shove, and he went stumbling. Jord ran to his side, too late to catch him.

"Are you alright?" There was a redness on his cheek that was almost certainly going to turn into a nasty bruise, and wide eyes stared at Jord for a long moment before he took his hand, before he let Jord help him to his feet.

"I know you," the young man said. "I'm Aimeric."

"Jord."

"My math TA. And apparently my hero."

Jord almost snorted, but he was drawn back from it by the complete earnestness in Aimeric's face. "Let's get you out of here," he said instead.

Damen aced his first linear algebra final (at least, once the curve was applied), and while he wanted to show it to Laurent, wanted the younger man to acknowledge his success, he knew that was a bad idea. Not least because it was Laurent's own neat handwriting that had marked his exam and written the final score on the front page.

"You really should have switched sections while you had the chance," Nikandros said, utterly ignoring the presence of Damen's A. Maybe Damen needed a new best friend. "At least then you'd have the chance to bang him."

Damen definitely needed a new best friend.

"I don't want to bang him. I just want to apologize and get him to understand."

"There's nothing to apologize for."

"I was driving the car—"

"When a pickup truck ran a red light and hit you. The other driver was drunk. There's no way that's your fault."

Damen shook his head. "I can't exactly expect Auguste's little brother to like me."

"News flash: you don't need him to like you. He probably never will. And that's fine. Lots of other people like you. What you need are good enough grades so you can go be an engineer and save the world. And you need to get laid. Come on. Celebrate your first A of the semester with a hot blonde who won't expect her to call you the next day."

Damen laughed. "That does sound tempting."

Some days, Jord really hated Laurent. Most days he could tolerate the other man well enough, because Laurent was capable of simply disappearing into his work or sleeping at his desk during the times when it got quiet. He was also great to have around whenever Jord got stuck in his research and needed to talk it through with someone who could actually make discussions.

But some days, there wasn't room for anything but shock and dislike.

"You know he's only sleeping with you because he wants you to give him a good grade," Laurent said.

"That's completely ridiculous." Jord didn't manage disdain nearly as well as Laurent, but he kept having reason to try. Especially when it was Aimeric's honor that needed defending. "You said yourself that math doesn't pick favorites."

"So he's stupid as well as using you. Except that you gave him an extension on his midterm."

What Aimeric was going through was none of Laurent's business, but Jord couldn't sit back and let the other man pick on him. "There were extenuating circumstances."

"Like your cock in his ass."

The problem with arguing with Laurent was that Laurent was always willing to strike the lower blow. Jord gathered his reply but a flicker of movement at the doorway drew his eyes to Aimeric standing there.

"Aimeric," Jord said, and went to his feet to chase the other man when he turned to run.

"No food or drink allowed in the classroom," Laurent said, barring Damen at the door and reaching out a hand for the coffee cup Damen was holding. Damen looked at him incredulously.

"I'm not ten. I promise I can drink it without spilling."

"You don't get to change the rules just because you don't like them. You can wait outside and drink it, if you want."

It took everything Damen had not to point out that Laurent had definitely brought something to drink last week. Doubtless the man would just claim that the rules were different for the person leading the class.

Laurent took off the lid and sniffed the drink.

"What are you doing?" Damen asked.

"Making sure you didn't bring alcohol onto campus."

Damen muttered a curse under his breath.

"I may be a son of a bitch, but I'm still your TA," Laurent said, and Damen was certain he'd never heard anyone say ‘bitch' with quite that much self-satisfaction. "Now, are you coming in here to work, or are you choosing your caffeine fix over actually learning something?"

The next day they had class, Damen drank his coffee before he showed up. Then he stopped by the locally owned shop that was further out of the way to pick up another cup. He couldn't say why he did it, except that he was pretty sure he already knew.

"We talked about this," Laurent said.

"I wasn't sure if you liked cream or sugar so I didn't get any," Damen said. He didn't add that Laurent didn't seem much like the sort of person who liked to add things to his coffee.

Laurent looked thrown for the briefest of moments before he recovered, all ice. "I don't drink coffee."

"Oh," Damen said. He hadn't figured on that as a possibility. "Tea, then?"

Laurent sighed. "Let's just start class."

"It's going to be fine," Jord promised Aimeric. He'd managed to calm the other man long enough for them to go back to Aimeric's dorm room, and Jord sat on his roommate's bed.

"You don't know that," Aimeric said.

"You don't owe him an explanation."

Aimeric hesitated, and Jord reflected on how different he was from Laurent. Laurent had skipped enough grades that he couldn't be more than a year or two older, but Aimeric seemed so much younger than that. Laurent didn't show anything on his face, not ever, but Jord could read everything on Aimeric's, even the thoughts that were still being formed.

"He's right," Aimeric said, after a moment's pause.

"No." Jord's response was automatic and he didn't feel any need to temper it. Laurent was usually right, but not about this, not about people.

"I am using you," Aimeric said.

"You shouldn't listen to him," Jord snapped. He didn't know what this was, but he was sure it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for Laurent. It made sense that Aimeric would feel guilty for the accommodations he'd been getting, even if that guilt wasn't merited.

"I think you should go," Aimeric said.

Jord stood from the bed and crossed the room to put his hands on Aimeric's shoulders. The man started to shake, and it took Jord far too long to realize that it was laughter and not crying. "Aimeric?"

"You're way too loyal for your own good."

Jord felt the anger at Laurent dissolving and reforming into a pit in his stomach. "I don't know what you mean."

Aimeric was still laughing, something half-bitter and half-mad.

When Damen brought him tea, though, it wasn't refused, although Laurent couldn't seem to bring himself to thank Damen for it. Instead he just nodded and took the cup, with an identical reaction the next day, and the day after that. Eventually Damen figured out that this was going to be a thing they never talked about, something that could be part of a rather long list by the end of the semester.

He wondered what would happen if he stopped bringing the tea, having established it as a tradition, but every time he thought about it he remembered the way that Laurent's lips would curve almost up into a smile after the first sip, and he couldn't quite bring himself to it.

"You are dangerously close to becoming obsessed," Nikandros told him.

"No, it's fine. We're building a connection. Auguste would have wanted me to look after his little brother."

"Is that what you call it?" Nikandros asked, and Damen couldn't exactly blame him for the skepticism in his tone, even if he also wouldn't thank him for it. "Are you going to ask him out once the semester is over?"

"What?" Damen wished he could manage Laurent's natural iciness in his tone. "That's not a thing."

"You could, you know. Once he stops being your TA."

Damen stifled a snort. "He'd probably kick me in the balls for asking."

Jord went to his classes and his office hours, but Aimeric had dropped out — of the school, as far as Jord had been able to find out — and Jord couldn't bring himself to work on his research, couldn't bring himself to do anything more than the bare minimum that he committed to.

His advisor started talking about a conference he wanted Jord to present to in the spring, and how he'd like to see more progress from Jord if he expected to graduate on time, and Jord just couldn't bring himself to care.

It was in the library almost a month after his last conversation with Aimeric when he felt something again, and it was the blood-red burn of justified anger. Before he could think things through, he had his hand on the other man's shoulders, pressing him back against the stairwell wall. Jord thought for a moment that he could probably send them both tumbling down.

"What the fuck, man?" the man he'd grabbed said.

"I know you," Jord said. "You're one of the frat boys."

"Is your anger against the Greek system that intense?" the man said, and Jord was certain he was being mocked.

Jord let his grip tighten, refusing to allow the man he held any leverage to push back. "I went to your party the first week of classes."

The other man let out a slow breath of air. "It sucked that much?"

Jord did let go with one hand, so he could send a fist smashing into his face.

Instead he found it caught, the other man still giving him a very concerned look. "What the hell are you on?" he asked.

"Someone almost got raped at your party," Jord spat out.

His hand was dropped, and brown eyes studied him before apparently deciding he was for real. "Holy shit," he said. And then, "I didn't know."

"Of course you wouldn't," Jord said. "That's how it always goes."

"I assure you, I don't tolerate that sort of thing. It's not acceptable. I...jeez. Are you alright?"

Jord stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. "It wasn't me who was attacked."

"Oh. I'm still sorry. I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot." He scratched his head, hair sticking up around the motion. "Look, I'm Nikandros, and if you — if I can help."

"Jord," Jord said automatically. "I reported them to the police, but I don't think anything happened there. I didn't have names, just descriptions."

Nikandros sighed. "If you tell me the descriptions, I can tell you if I know anyone by them. Or you can come back, see if they're still hanging around."

Jord started to shake his head.

"Please?" Nikandros said. "As a favor. I don't want those sort of people in my house."

One late Friday afternoon, Damen stopped by the café to pick up a cup of 'his usual' and he forgot to wink at the barista, forgot that he'd casually flirted with her a half dozen times already and that she was starting to warm to him.

He made his way to the math student graduate offices, planning to set the tea on Laurent's desk. He hadn't been back to office hours since the beginning of the semester but he figured that maybe things had warmed by now, maybe he'd finally shown he was serious and Laurent would be willing to try talking to him about anything outside of class.

Instead he found Katie in the chair next to Laurent's, laughing at a joke or something as she pressed their arms together.

The surge of jealousy that Damen felt was more alarming than anything else, and he found himself backing out of the office before he could think better of it, before he could make any more of a fool of himself.

The second frat party Jord attended as a grad student was just as awkward as the first, except that this time he didn't have the luxury of pretending it wasn't awkward. Nikandros stayed glued to his side the whole time, no matter how many people came up to him, inviting him to join them in a drinking game or loud conversation.

"I can come find you if I spot them," Jord offered.

Nikandros shook his head. "No. I want to know as soon as you do."

Jord sighed. "Maybe they were just there the once."

Nikandros didn't seem at all inclined to give up. "We'll keep looking."

"You can at least get a drink, if you want," Jord said.

"No. I'm fine."

Jord didn't argue, because the truth was that it was easier if neither of them drank, and he rather enjoyed the knowledge that Nikandros was there, by his side and ready to act. It made him feel less alone.

"Holy shit," Nikandros drawled, for what was the second time but felt more like the hundredth. He had the textbook from one of his classes open but they'd given up even pretending to study. "You really are into him."

"It's not like that," Damen protested. His fingers drummed on the paper.

"Bullshit it's not. So, what's the problem?"

"Beyond the fact that he hates my guts, would as soon stab me as talk to me, and generally thinks I'm scum that deserves to die? I can't think of one. Oh, maybe the fact that I'm not into guys."

Nikandros raised an eyebrow and Damen braced himself for a reminder of how many times Damen had remarked on the intensity of Laurent's eyes. "I think human sexuality is a lot more fluid than we generally give it credit for," Nikandros said instead.

"Woah," Damen said.

"Woah?" Nikandros repeated, as if he hadn't just said something completely out of the blue.

"Are you coming out to me?" Damen waited a beat, while Nikandros seemed to realize what he'd actually said. "About time." He drummed his pencil against his paper, thinking it through.

Nikandros reached out to snatch the pencil out of Damen's hand and throw it across the room. "This is about your terrible love life decisions, not mine."

Without his pencil to distract him, Damen turned his full attention on Nikandros. "No, I want to know. Who is he?"

"There isn't a he."

"I've known you way too long to believe that." Damen ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out if he needed to be delicate around Nikandros' feelings or if this was the sort of situation better faced head-on.

"It's complicated. He's not ready for anything."

Damen held his breath, genuinely not wanting Nikandros to feel like they couldn't talk about this. He considered his response carefully. "Are you waiting for him to be ready?"

"Maybe." Nikandros shrugged. "I don't know. I'm still deciding."

Somehow, even when he gave up on finding Aimeric's assailants — not really gave up, but it was more the sort of thing that had Jord keep his eyes peeled whenever he went anywhere, rather than expecting them any place in particular — Jord kept meeting up with Nikandros.

"There's a new pizza place you just have to check out," Nikandros said, and it was on Jord's lips to say no without even thinking about it. "When was the last time you ate?" Nikandros asked.

"Yesterday," Jord answered, honest.

"Oh, then we are definitely getting pizza."

It was kind of nice to have a friend who seemed to want to look out for him, instead of prove himself right all the time. Lately Laurent had become more testy, and Nikandros was quick to smile. His smile was quick to take Jord's mind off of everything else.

"You're paying," Jord said.

Nikandros laughed. "It's a deal."

"Congratulations." Laurent's voice was so dry that Damen couldn't be certain if he was being entirely sarcastic or only mostly.

Damen waved his final in front of Laurent again.

"You do realize that since the semester is over, that means I don't have to have office hours anymore, right?"

"But you're here."

"Yes, because unlike an undergraduate I don't really have time off, just a never-ending march of deadlines that need to be met."

Damen had almost certainly been listening too much to Nikandros when he'd started to think that things between himself and Laurent would change just because the semester was over. Laurent was just as biting and difficult as ever.

"Don't you ever take a break?"

"Not really," Laurent snapped back. "Now, was that all?"

"Have a good Christmas," Damen said, and he couldn't think of anything more to do than walk away.

Jord got Nikandros' number to text over Christmas break, and if Nikandros spent half the time making plans for what they would do come the spring semester, how they would hang out, well, it was easy to let that much happen.

It was anything more that was impossible.
The campus population shrunk noticeably over the holiday break, and while Damen knew people would come back as soon as winter term started, for now it was lonely, with just a smattering of international students from places too expensive to fly back to for only a brief visit, and Damen. And, apparently, Laurent.

Damen glanced up from his corner of the café when he caught Laurent's agitated tone. "I don't actually know which tea. But I know you have it, and it's a black tea with citrus — probably oranges. And cardamom. You can't tell me you have more than one tea that fits that description."

"I'm sorry, I don't know which one you're talking about."

Before he could think better of it, Damen was standing next to Laurent. "It's the Island Sunset of Dreams," he said, his voice artificially calm, like he was speaking to an easily-spooked animal, although he'd never known Laurent to behave like that. Maybe it was his own heart he was seeking to calm.

"That's a really stupid name for a tea," Laurent said. "I never would have drunk it if I knew the name."

Damen found himself smiling despite himself, despite Laurent's own frown. "I know. Still, it's really good."

"I didn't take you for much of a tea drinker."

"I'm not. But I did a lot of research to find the right tea." Damen felt his neck growing warm. He looked away rather than think through all of that and what it meant, then he pulled out his wallet. "He'll take a large, and I'll pay for it."

When Damen did look back at the Laurent, the other man wasn't looking back. "Tomorrow's Christmas," Laurent said, softly.

"Merry Christmas," Damen said, because he wasn't sure what else to say.

"The university will be closed," Laurent said, which seemed like the last thing to think about, as far as Damen was concerned.

"I was planning on doing some cooking. Do you want to come over to my place?" More surprising than the fact that he'd found the nerve to ask was the answer.

"Yes," Laurent said, and just that, no further explanation.

"Let me find some paper, I'll write down my address."

"You can just text it to me."

Whatever Damen was expecting, it wasn't the knock on his door at seven in the morning on Christmas day. He wrapped himself in a blanket expecting to tell someone they had the wrong door, only to come face to face with Laurent.

Damen lifted one hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Am I too early?" Damen knew he must still be half-asleep, because he would swear Laurent sounded nervous. "I can wait until you're ready."

Damen almost said that yes, Laurent should absolutely come back later, but he didn't want to risk Laurent deciding that maybe he wouldn't come back, or his mind deciding that this dream should end before it got good.

"You can wait inside, I won't be long. I'm just going to take a shower."

When Damen got out of the shower and into some clothing, he opened his bedroom door to the smell of fresh coffee. "I hope you don't mind," Laurent said, and he still seemed nervous, like an electric current running under his skin. Maybe Damen was just projecting.

"I thought you didn't like coffee," Damen said.

"It's for you."

"Oh." It took a moment for the rest of that thought to occur to Damen. "Thank you."

They stood there in silence that was absolutely awkward for a moment longer.

"I didn't expect you until later," Damen said.

"I figured that out," Laurent said. "Sorry, I just couldn't be at home."

Damen figured that might be a confession of sorts, but he wasn't any more sure how to respond to that than to the rest of what Laurent said. "I think Nikandros is going to come over later, once he's done with his family."

"That's fine."

"I wasn't asking permission," Damen said, before he thought better of it. "What do you want to do?"

"What do you usually do?"

"Drink alone," Damen said, in a burst of honesty that was almost certainly a bad idea. "At least lately."

"I don't drink," Laurent answered.

Damen winced. "Yeah. Okay. Look, I'm—"

"We're not talking about it," Laurent said.

"Right." Damen sighed. "What are we going to talk about?"

"You haven't asked me what my thesis is on."

"Do you really want to talk work today?"

"It's better than talking about anything else." Damen's eyes met Laurent's blue ones, and he could see just how much the other man meant it.

"Laurent," Damen said. "Why are you here?"

"I told you. I can't be at home."

"And you didn't have any better options?"

"On Christmas morning? No."

Damen huffed and took a sip of his coffee. "I can't fault you for your honesty." He wondered what Laurent would have done if Damen hadn't invited him over. He had the sudden image of Laurent breaking into the mathematics building just to stand in an empty classroom. "What do you want to do today?"

Laurent shook his head. "I don't care."

Damen scanned his apartment for ideas. "Do you know how to play chess?"

Two hours later, Damen concluded that Laurent most certainly did know how to play chess, and that he was able to think so many moves ahead of time that Damen would be surprised if Laurent weren't the inspiration for the first computer able to beat a human.

"Do you want to play again?" Damen asked.

"Not tired of losing yet?"

Damen shrugged. "As long as you're enjoying it."

Laurent lifted a hand to his blond hair and ran his fingers through the strands. "You don't actually have to be nice to me."

Damen pursed his lips, trying to think of a good answer to that.

"It doesn't really change what I think of you."

"Doesn't it?" Damen asked. "You thought I was lazy and stupid at the beginning of the semester."

Laurent shrugged, entirely unapologetic.

"People change," Damen said. "It's fine to acknowledge that."

"That's why I prefer numbers," Laurent answered.

"Numbers change too." Laurent gave him an incredibly disbelieving look. "Like, when you add them to other things or multiply them."

Laurent laughed, and Damen was utterly and completely lost in it.

"You're still an idiot," Laurent said.

"I'm feeling like a genius right now," Damen admitted.

"Let's play again."

"How often do you think about it?"

Damen had finally given up on losing at chess — or at least decided to take a break from it — and started cooking. Laurent followed him to the kitchen, perching on the counter and watching Damen as he kneaded bread.

He'd been silent since they'd entered the room, and it took Damen a moment to register that he'd even spoken.

"About what?"

"The accident."

Damen froze, his hands sticky with dough. "Every day."

Laurent's head was cocked when Damen looked at him, but there wasn't any real reaction on his face. "Do you blame yourself?"

Damen wanted to say 'no', wanted to explain what his psychiatrist had said, wanted to tell Laurent that it wouldn't be fair to blame himself, that he knew that. And he did, had heard it enough times, but that wasn't enough to change how he felt about it all.

"Every day," he said.

"Good." Laurent said.

Damen was certain that was the end of whatever conversation this was, that they'd go back to talking about anything else, and after a while longer of stillness he resumed kneading the dough.

"I blame myself too," Laurent said, softly but there wasn't much noise in the kitchen to cover his words.

"What?" Damen asked. "Why?"

"I don't know," Laurent said, and Damen supposed he couldn't ask for more than that.

If Damen tried to think about how they'd ended up on the sofa together, with a blanket tucked carefully around Laurent like a barrier against the world, he was sure he'd end up jinxing it, and that was the last thing he wanted.

It felt comfortable, despite the fact that Laurent's posture was stiff and Damen was coming to think that he really wanted to kiss him, despite how inappropriate that was.

"Your favorite Christmas song?" Damen asked.

"Fairytale of New York."

"I've never heard of it, but it sounds nice."

Laurent laughed, and even if Damen had heard more laughs today than he thought Laurent had probably uttered in the past six months, he still wanted to treasure each one as precious. "You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot," he sang. "Happy Christmas me arse, I would rather be dead."

"Christ," Damen murmured.

"Want me to sing the rest of it for you?"

Damen laughed. "I don't know if it'll be better or worse than what I'm imagining."

"Worse," Laurent said. "Reality is always worse."

Damen's fingers found Laurent's, and he squeezed their hands together.

"It's going to be okay," he said, although he couldn't say what prompted that.

"No," Laurent said.

"Starting today," Damen continued, not sure what else to say. It was clear Laurent wasn't convinced.

"It can't be," Laurent said, and then, "It should have been me, in your car."

Damen froze, horrified at the thought, and then feeling horrified at his own sense of horror. "That doesn't make any sense," he said, slowly.

"It would have been better," Laurent said. "For everyone."

"Not for you," Damen answered. He knew he should have something better to say, something to offer Laurent as consolation, but he couldn't think what it would be.

"Most of all for me."

After Christmas, Damen took to texting Laurent daily. He told himself that it was to let Laurent know that someone cared about him, because he seemed to need that, but the truth was that Damen held his breath from his text until he got a reply. He needed to know that Laurent was still okay, or as okay as he seemed to be able to manage.

"What are you doing today?" Damen asked.

"Working on my thesis." It was almost always the same answer, and yet Damen still let out a careful breath when he received it.

"Need a break?"

"No."

"What if I bring you tea?"

"I can take ten minutes."

":)"

"What are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

Damen sat on one of the other TA's desks, having pushed their papers to the side to make room for himself. He was pretty sure whoever it was would throw a fit if they saw it, but he was equally sure that no one but Laurent and now himself were going to come in this building during the break. It was eerie, walking through dark hallways, and Damen couldn't shake the sense that a professor was going to appear out of nowhere to yell at him, despite the fact that the corridors where they had their offices were as abandoned as everywhere else.

"I was planning on sleeping," Laurent said.

Damen feigned surprise. "You sleep?" It was true that whenever Damen texted Laurent, he got a reply within ten minutes.

"Every other week. What about yourself? Surely there's a party you'll be at."

"Yeah, there are few I've been invited to."

"Trying to figure out where to best make your presence known?"

"Are there any you'd come to with me?"

Laurent snorted. "No."

Damen nodded, serious. "Then I don't want to go to a party."

"What are you talking about?"

"I take very seriously that I should start the new year however I want the rest of it to go."

"And you want to start it with getting rejected?" Laurent asked.

"It's not like I was asking you out on a date," Damen protested.

Laurent sat in his chair, still. "Weren't you?" His voice was the same dangerous purr that Damen remembered from when they'd first met, and numerous enough times since.

"No. If I was asking you on a date, there would be more chocolates."

"Ahh," Laurent said. "I wouldn't know."

"You've never—" Damen started.

"Fucked? No, I have done that."

Damen sputtered, and he couldn't recover himself to finish the rest of what he'd been going to ask before Laurent kicked him out to get back to writing.

"Do you want to go out with me for new years?"

"You told me that kind of question would come with chocolate."

"Check your desk drawer."

"That better fucking not be a euphemism."

"So…?"

"Not a euphemism. You're temporarily forgiven."

"That's not an answer to my question."

"I haven't decided yet."

Oh. Somehow Damen had managed to convince himself — with no small amount of Nikandros' help — that all he had to do was ask, and Laurent would agree to go out with him. Or say no, but at least then it would be over with. He had thought the hard part would be getting up the courage to ask, which was why he'd done it over text, but what he felt now was ten times worse.

"When do you think you'll know?"

"Two days from now. But in the afternoon."

Damen bit his lip, trying to encourage his brain to work. He'd waited until almost the last minute, so maybe he deserved this now. He'd find out the day of New Year's Eve, and until then, he'd just have to wait. And maybe bring Laurent more tea and chocolate, to sway the response.

"Promise me you're not doing this just to torture me?" Damen typed and erased the question twice before he decided to just send it.

Laurent's answer came back quickly. "I promise."

Laurent waited until almost the last moment before he responded. It was late enough that Damen had resigned himself to getting a no, that he'd figured Laurent was trying to let him down gently and consoled himself with the fact that Laurent trying to do anything gently meant that he probably valued their friendship, or the approximation of it that they'd managed to build.

"Yes."

"Nikandros, he said yes!"

Nikandros sighed. "I know. You've yelled it three times since his text came in."

Damen looked over at his friend, his brows knitting together. "Is everything okay with you and what's-his-name?"

"Yes. No. It's complicated."

"That's what you said last time. That's what you say every time I ask."

Nikandros shrugged. "I can't help that that's always the answer."

"Well...good luck?"

"Thanks. So where are you and your hot TA going?"

"I told you, he's not my TA anymore. I'm moving on to differential equations and he's sticking with linear algebra. There's no way he would have said yes if he was going to be in a position of authority over me."

"I don't know, maybe he gets off on that."

Damen choked back on a laugh. "I haven't decided yet."

"You should take him somewhere fancy, if you can still get reservations this late."

Somewhere fancy turned out to be a completely terrible idea, even if Laurent always dressed like he could stroll into a five star restaurant and be shown straight to his table.

They took a cab, but Laurent's posture was carefully perfect and way too stiff in the seat next to him, and Damen wanted to massage his back until the tension eased out of him. "Problems at home?" Damen guessed.

"No more than usual," Laurent answered, which was as much as he always said.

It took Damen longer than it should have to realize he was contributing to the problem, right around the time he'd waved away the offer of a glass of champagne and moved to look at Laurent with an understanding nod only to find the other man staring straight ahead.

"You want to go get burgers instead?" Damen asked, not sure how else to make this right.

Laurent's face didn't move. "You're not serious."

"I'm very serious," Damen said. "We don't have to do this. I just thought you'd want—"

"I want," Laurent started, before he trailed off, his face finally thawing a little. "I want a burger and a milkshake."

Damen nodded, feeling his own grin going wide. "Then we'll do that instead."

They went back to Damen's apartment afterwards, too full and finding the outside too cold to be willing to wait anywhere for fireworks to start. Instead they curled up on the couch, and this time Damen dared to place his arm over the blanket that was wrapped around Laurent's shoulders.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

"It's fine," Laurent said, and he still felt stiff, but it seemed better than it had been at the restaurant.

"What do you want to do now?" Damen asked.

"What do you mean?" Laurent asked. He shifted a little, his body fitting against Damen's.

Damen moved his hand to rub circles into Laurent's shoulder. "Do you want to stay the night?"

Laurent's eyes went wide, but he didn't pull away. "We're not fucking tonight." It was almost a question, and Damen hated that he wanted to answer it.

"We don't need to, no. You can still stay. If you want."

Laurent didn't say anything, but he tilted his head, pressing his lips against Damen's in a kiss that Damen found himself terrified to respond to.

When Laurent drew back, he brought a hand up to stroke his fingers along Damen's jawline. "You're not a virgin, are you?" he asked.

Damen tried to hold back his laughter, but it bubbled out of him. "No."

Laurent's fingers tightened, and Damen's chin was drawn forward. "Good. Then you have no excuse for not knowing how to kiss."

This time when their lips met, Damen kissed back. He was fairly sure that Laurent was satisfied.

For some reason, Jord had expected things to return to normal after winter break. His family had been the same as always, little sisters squabbling over who got the best gift and who was going to get to borrow the car to go to the movies with her boyfriend. It had been easy to forget things. His mom kept asking why he was so moody, but it was easy enough to tell her that it was because he was behind on his thesis, and to let her come up with a plan to get him back on track that he wasn't sure if he felt like following.

But then he was back on campus, and everywhere he went he could feel Aimeric's touch, even places where the freshman had never stepped foot. And there was Nikandros, bold and smiling and jostling for a position next to Jord.

"I got you a gift," Nikandros said. "Sorry it's a little late for Christmas, but I didn't have a chance to give it to you before."

‘Aimeric told me Christmas was his favorite holiday,' Jord thought but didn't say. "You didn't need to get me anything," he said instead.

"That's kind of the point of gifts," Nikandros said, his voice soft like he was agreeing.

He pulled the gift out of his pocket and handed it over. Jord didn't think that he'd felt so nervous about getting a gift in quite a while, but it was important not to give these things more import than they really deserved.

"It's a bell," he said, trying not to let the uncertainty he felt come out in his voice, even as he knew it was too late for that.

"It's stupid," Nikandros said, and Jord felt his face fall in sympathy.

"No, I'm sure it's not. It's very pretty." Jord wasn't sure at all what he was supposed to do with it.

"Why did you give him a bell?" Damen asked. He knew that Nikandros wasn't the worst at giving gifts, as a general rule. They didn't usually need to be much more complicated than a six-pack of beer.

"I panicked," Nikandros admitted. "I didn't know what to give him that showed I was willing to wait and still be here without pressuring him to feel like he needed to be ready for something now, or to make him feel like I wanted to rush him."

"How does a bell show that?"

"He can ring it when he's ready."

Damen sighed. "You, my friend, need help."

Nikandros scowled at him. "One kiss and you think you're on top of the world. When are you two going to go out on a real date?"

"Probably some time after he finishes his thesis."

Nikandros snorted. "And I need help. Sure thing."

Laurent stood outside Damen's door, and he had his hand raised as if to knock. Damen supposed he should be grateful for Laurent's self-control, to stop himself as soon as he realized the door was gone.

"Oh," Damen said. "Did you want to come in?"

"You were just on your way out."

Damen didn't always understand Laurent, but he was beginning to at least get used to his habits. "Yeah, I have to run a book back to the library." Laurent never showed up except when he needed to be somewhere else. Damen wished he knew what the other man was running from. "You can stay here while I'm out, if you want."

Laurent nodded, serious, and brushed by Damen on his way into the apartment.

Jord took to working on his research in Nikandros' room after he discovered that the other man had a whiteboard half the size of one wall that he'd left tragically blank for far too long.

"I don't understand how you can have a whiteboard and just plain not use it," Jord admitted.

"I guess it's a good thing you came into my life, then," Nikandros teased. He lay on his back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"If you let me take the whiteboard back to my place, you wouldn't have to put up with me pestering you so much," Jord said, copying over an equation from his paper onto the board. He knew as soon as he started that he'd cease being very good company at all.

"Maybe I like you pestering me," Nikandros said.

Jord wasn't sure how to answer, so he pretended not to hear him.

"Where do you live?" Damen asked, after it occurred to him that even if Laurent had taken to dropping by more regularly, the only place Damen could reliably find him in turn was the math building.

"In the city," Laurent answered.

"Really?" Damen hadn't been expecting that particular answer. He'd imagined instead Laurent renting space in the attic of one of the townhouses on main street from some elderly lady, with a neighborhood cat bringing him dead mice as periodic tribute.

"I live with my uncle," Laurent said, and his voice was so cold that Damen knew it was meant to keep him from asking anything further.

"You drive?"

"One of his men drops me off."

Damen was again floored, because when he thought about it he could remember that Auguste had been rich, but it had never really seemed to matter with him. With Laurent everything was complicated in ways that couldn't be untangled.

"I'll get you a spare key to my place, in case you ever want to stop by."

Laurent frowned. "I'm not asking for your charity."

"I don't think wanting to have more of you around is quite charity," Damen said.

"Am I to serve your selfish desires?"

"Yes," Damen said. "And your own."

"Oh," Laurent said.

Damen leaned in and brushed his lips against Laurent's cheek. "Oh exactly."

Jord was beginning to realize that he liked to be casually touched. With Aimeric, it had always been difficult. He had always felt like he was doing something wrong when he reached out to touch Aimeric, and of course that wasn't the younger man's fault. It had just made things complicated, and Jord found himself second-guessing every time Aimeric had reached out to him, trying to figure out what he could do to help.

Maybe Aimeric had never needed Jord's help, or maybe he needed more than Jord had been able to offer.

"You're overthinking this," Nikandros said, his hand over Jord's as he drew the bowling ball back, trying to get Jord used to the motion.

"I overthink everything," Jord said automatically. "This is physics, which is just applied math. Momentum and trajectory. I should be able to do this."

"You'd do better if you weren't overthinking it," Nikandros said. He stepped back, leaving Jord at it to release the ball, and Jord spent a moment too long missing the warmth that had been pressed against him.

Jord let go, and the ball went straight into the gutter. "Crap," he muttered.

"Maybe forget about the momentum for now and just focus on the trajectory," Nikandros said.

Jord turned to look at him, and Nikandros stuck his tongue out at him.

"You want me to show you again how to do it?" Nikandros asked.

"Yes," Jord said, even though he was pretty sure that wouldn't help him with his game.

"Do you think I could meet your uncle?" Damen asked. They were on his sofa, Laurent's hands curled around a cup of tea and Damen trying to find the balance between touching Laurent and not crowding Laurent.

He was close enough to feel that minute stiffening of Laurent's body, to feel that he'd fucked things up again.

"No," Laurent said.

"Do you want to come home with me for spring break?" Jord asked. It was a stupid question, because Nikandros probably had his own family, even if he never spoke about them, and because Jord couldn't imagine what his parents would make of him bringing someone back. They'd probably start in with the significant looks again, which was stupid, because Nikandros was about as straight as anyone could get, and Jord wasn't ready for anything.

"Would your folks be alright with that?" Nikandros asked.

"They'd love to meet one of my friends," Jord said, honestly.

"Is that what we are?" Nikandros asked, but when Jord turned to look at him he was grinning, and it felt like a joke that they could share.

"It's a couple of hour's drive. If you wanted to just spend a few days I could drop you off back wherever you wanted when we were done," Jord offered.

"As long as I get to pick the music," Nikandros said.

"As long as you don't pick shitty music," Jord agreed.

"You're sticking around over the summer, right?" Laurent asked.

Damen honestly hadn't thought about it yet, other than the fact that he couldn't go home because there wasn't a home to go to. "I'll probably try to find a job or internship somewhere. What about you?"

"The same thing I did over the winter," Laurent said.

Damen almost nodded, before he remembered that what Laurent had done over the winter had included spending way too many hours working hunched over his desk. It had also included showing up at Damen's, and staying.

"I'll try to find something in the area," he promised.

Jord usually hated the drive back to his parents'. Going home wasn't bad, but there was nothing but fields and grass the whole length of the drive, and he always worried about ending up by the side of the road to piss because there wouldn't be any other options. That particular fear got stronger with Nikandros in the car, but the rest of it was easier.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Nikandros teased.

"I don't know, your rap music might have taken all sense from my head."

Nikandros snorted. "I bet if you had your way we'd be listening to Avril Lavigne the whole way."

Jord sighed. "You have me all wrong. It would definitely be Taylor Swift."

Nikandros was quiet for a moment, and then he started laughing. Jord smiled back.

"How's your thesis coming?" Damen asked.

Laurent looked him over, blue eyes sharp as he lifted his tea to his lips to take another sip. "What do you want?"

"I want to know how you're doing," Damen protested.

"I'm doing fine," Laurent said.

"Do you want to come over tonight?"

Laurent paused, and Damen could tell he was considering saying no. "To talk or to fuck."

"Whichever you want," Damen agreed, long past worrying about appearing over-eager.

"To fuck," Laurent said, and then, "Fine."

"Mom, this is Nikandros. Where are Dad and the girls?"

"We thought maybe we'd wait to overwhelm you until after you'd both had a chance to settle in a little," Jord's mother said. "Nikandros, do you want to be put up in the guest room or in Jord's room?"

Jord froze in clear mortification. He had been wrong, and nothing about this moment was even a little okay.

"The guest room would be fine," Nikandros said, as smooth a response as Jord could have imagined. Jord let out a breath. "At least for this visit," Nikandros said.

"Excellent. Well, it's right this way. Can I get you two anything to drink or eat? Did you have lunch yet?"

"It's three o'clock, Mom," Jord muttered.

"Which doesn't answer my question."

"Yes, we had lunch," Jord said.

"I see the forgetting to eat is at least a long-standing habit," Nikandros said.

"I don't forget," Jord snapped. "There are just more important things to do." There had to be, because if the most important thing he was capable of was feeding himself, it would be even harder to get through each day.

"I love you," Damen said, the words bubbling out in the haze of post-orgasm and entirely impossible to hold back. He had imagined this moment a lot, and hadn't figured on Laurent accepting the words. He hadn't pictured Laurent being comfortable with them, because there was little enough that Laurent seemed comfortable with the first time it was introduced. Besides, Damen already knew all the arguments, had used them on himself for weeks. It was too early, and he wasn't sure if they were even dating, or if they just happened to spend time together and have really fantastic sex. He was pretty sure that Laurent wasn't seeing anyone else, but that didn't mean they'd talked about it.

"No," Laurent said.

Damen propped himself up on one elbow to study Laurent's face. "That's more ridiculous than anything I pictured you saying. I'm sorry if...it makes you uncomfortable or anything."

"It doesn't make me uncomfortable. You can't love me."

Damen snorted. "I think I have a better idea of my own heart than you do."

"You don't know me well enough to be in love with me," Laurent said.

"I don't think you're holding back as much as you think you are." Damen reached out to run his fingers over Laurent's cheek. Laurent didn't turn his head away, and Damen made sure his grip stayed gentle.

"If I can change your mind, then it means the emotion wasn't real in the first place."

Damen combed his hand through Laurent's hair. "I don't think anything you say can change my mind."

Laurent sighed, some of the tension easing out of him, and Damen wondered if he would fall asleep to avoid having the rest of this conversation. "Maybe we'll find out tomorrow."

Damen kissed him on his forehead, and let him sleep.

It turned out that there were challenges that Nikandros was not at all equal to, and coming face to face with Jord's sisters would strain most people's sense of patience. When Nikandros retreated to the guest room, Jord followed, because it was the polite thing to do to make sure his guests were comfortable. They settled side-by-side on the bed, because there wasn't anywhere else to sit.

"I think Ellie has a crush on you," Jord said.

Nikandros made a face. "Someone should tell her I'm taken."

Jord snorted. "I'm not lying to my little sister just so you can avoid letting her down gently."

Nikandros furrowed his brow. "It's not lying."

Jord lifted an eyebrow and leaned over to poke Nikandros on the forehead. "If you're taken, then you're really a shit boyfriend, since it seems like you spend most of your time with me."

Nikandros didn't say anything, just kept looking at Jord.

"Oh no," Jord said.

"I'm going to keep waiting, until you're ready."

Jord snatched his hand back. He hadn't felt so much like punching Nikandros since the day they'd met in the library. "You're an asshole." He stood.

"What?" Nikandros drew back.

Jord left. Nikandros could fend for himself if he wanted.

"I think I upset Jord."

Damen stared at his phone, not sure he could provide Nikandros with the reassurance he wanted right now. "You think?"

"Okay," Nikandros texted back. "I'm pretty sure. But I don't know what I did."

"Seems like the sort of thing you should figure out."

"I know, smartass. Laurent's friends with him, right? Can you find out what he thinks? I'm trapped at his family's, and I'm worried his mom might bury me alive if she finds out I've upset him."

"Laurent isn't talking to me," Damen texted.

Nikandros' response was immediate. "What?!"

"He's thinking."

"Jfc, D-man, you had me worried there for a moment."

"I don't know that you need to be worried," Damen admitted. "But I am. He's thinking about us."

"Look, just because I'm having a little relationship difficulty doesn't mean that relationships as a whole need to end. I'll leave you to figure this out. Maybe I can get info from one of Jord's sisters."

"Oh, you have a relationship now?" Damen asked.

"No. Definitely not. Ugh."

Jord couldn't figure out if he felt guilty about Nikandros' look of utter bewilderment or not. He vacillated between that guilt and feeling a hot, burning anger that threatened to tear him apart, that made holing up in his room a very good idea. He'd been around his sisters when they were reeling from a breakup — not that that was what this was — and it wasn't fair to bystanders.

His phone buzzed, but the only person it could be was Nikandros, so he ignored it for a solid minute. Then curiosity got the better of him. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Jord sighed and typed out his response with deliberate care. "Do you know what you did?"

Nikandros' response was almost immediate. "No. But I'm still sorry."

"Come to my room." Jord was deliberately ambiguous about the emotion behind his words. He wasn't sure how to keep his anger and his slight hopefulness contained in the same entirety of him.

"Okay," Laurent said, after what had been literal hours of him staring at his tea until it grew cold and Damen brought him a new cup, only for that one, too, to sit untouched.

"Okay?" Damen echoed back, hoping his failure to understand the context wasn't going to make Laurent go silent again.

For a moment it looked like it would, and then Laurent gave a small nod. "You can meet my uncle."

"Oh!" Damen said. "When?"

"Tonight," Laurent said, then, "Wear your best suit."

Damen nodded earnestly, not thinking it worth pointing out to Laurent that he only had the one suit.

Jord played with the corner of his blanket between his fingers while Nikandros stood in front of him, looking like he wished he could come closer.

"You haven't been very fair to me," Jord said.

Nikandros blinked at him. It was clear that he didn't know what Jord was talking about, but was willing to agree to about anything to make amends. "I'm very sorry for that."

"Quit apologizing when you don't know what you're apologizing for," Jord snapped. He looked away, because he couldn't take Nikandros' particular brand of kicked puppy at the moment.

"I'm apologizing for not being fair," Nikandros said.

Jord shook his head and tried to find the right words. "You don't get to decide that you're waiting for me to be ready when I haven't told you that I'm not ready, and when I haven't told you that I want you to wait at all."

He knew he had to look at Nikandros now, and it was every bit as painful as he had expected. "I just thought..."

"I bet you never thought you'd be accused of spending too much time thinking and not enough time talking," Jord said. He got a low snort from Nikandros, and tried to quell the hope that that made him feel. "I thought we were friends," Jord continued.

"We are friends."

"I thought we were just friends," Jord said.

"Ah. We can be, if that's what you want." The fact that Nikandros' answers still came so quick was partly reassuring and partly reinforced the original problem.

"I thought you were straight," Jord protested, because it wasn't right that Nikandros still knew what to say while Jord was trying to wrap his head around everything that had happened and apparently everything Nikandros had been trying to do for the last six months.

Nikandros flinched, but it seemed to help him find his fire. "That one's on you. I literally haven't made eyes at a girl since I met you."

Jord felt his heart pause, then thump again. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Nikandros said.

"I didn't ask for that," Jord said.

"I didn't do it for you. Just because of."

Jord paused, but it was too big a thought for right now. "I think I need to be alone. Not... You didn't do anything wrong this time, I just need space."

"As long as your mother doesn't see fit to murder me, we're fine."

Jord laughed, but from the look on Nikandros' face he thought the other man was serious.

Laurent reached out to pick a piece of dust off of Damen's suit jacket, and Damen resisted the urge to meet Laurent with a kiss. It was clear the man was stressed, and Damen didn't want to do anything to add to that. It wasn't clear why Laurent had made him dress nicely and then walk most of the way across campus to the math building to meet the car there. Damen had suggested texting the driver with his address, to which Laurent had murmured a very intense, "Shut up," and so apparently that was that.

"I won't embarrass you," Damen promised, because it seemed like it needed to be said.

Laurent shook his head, lips pursed tightly. "I'm not worried about that."

Damen wasn't sure what else to say to that, but he was fortunately saved by the car showing up.

The man driving it was bulky with muscle and looked more like a brawler than a chauffeur, but Laurent nodded to him and opened the back seat door. "You can sit up front with me," the driver told Laurent, and Damen felt inexplicably grateful when Laurent slid in next to him instead.

Damen moved his hand to squeeze Laurent's hand, and Laurent didn't squeeze back, didn't say anything. He also didn't pull away, so Damen kept his hand there.

"Do you want to try dating?" Jord asked. Dinner had been awkward, with there still being too many silences between them for Jord's family to avoid picking up on it. Even if ordinarily no one could get a word in edgewise. Now they sat on the guest bed again. "I mean, once we get back to campus."

"I think you know my answer already," Nikandros said.

"I want to hear it."

Nikandros slid off the bed to go down on one knee. "Yes, I want to date you."

Jord laughed. "You're completely ridiculous."

Nikandros just shrugged, and Jord decided that it was easy enough, at least now, to lean in. He held Nikandros' shoulders as he leaned in for a brief press of their lips. When it was over, Nikandros let him draw back. Jord was worried about what he'd see on the other man's face, but Nikandros just looked incredibly pleased. He didn't ask for another kiss.

"So you're the one that my nephew is so taken with," Laurent's uncle said, which Damen thought was an odd but not terrible thing to say to the person who was probably dating one's nephew. It was warming to think that Laurent had spoken of him.

"Yes," Laurent said, which was more surprising than anything else.

"Please, do come in. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Damen glanced at Laurent, who didn't give him any cues. "A water would be fine."

"Are you sure?" Laurent's uncle asked. "I have a very nice single malt I like to save for special occasions. I'll get you a glass of that, see if you like it."

He left the room, and Damen focused his eyes on Laurent, leaning in. Laurent didn't look nervous so much as completely stiff, and Damen knew that introducing someone to family could be hard. "Your uncle seems nice," he reassured Laurent.

Laurent reached out to brush his fingers against Damen's cheek, but the gesture somehow didn't feel actually affectionate.

His hand was still on Damen's cheek when his uncle returned. If anything, the press became firmer as Damen picked up the glass. He inhaled an appreciative sniff of the peaty aroma, and despite his resolution to not drink in front of Laurent — something that had been surprisingly easy, since Damen felt he needed his full wits in order to keep up with Laurent — he took a sip.

Laurent dropped his hand.

"How are your studies going, Laurent?" his uncle asked.

Laurent shrugged, looking every inch the resentful teenager being prodded by a caring relative.

"Laurent spends a lot of time working," Damen chipped in. Even if he didn't get why things seemed awkward, he wanted to help smooth them over.

"Kind of a waste of time," Laurent's uncle said, and Damen felt his lips twitch down. He had another sip of the whiskey to keep himself from interrupting, since he badly wanted to defend Laurent but he didn't understand what the accusation really was.

"I'm not going into finance," Laurent said, his voice firm.

"You know you're never going to be anything in the mathematics world," his uncle said.

Damen reached out and covered Laurent's hand with his own. He set down his whiskey glass.

"I can't protect you forever," Laurent's uncle continued.

Damen wanted to hit someone, and he knew exactly who. "I don't think he needs your protection," he said.

"But he does need yours? I have enough influence to get you into a graduate program, but not to get you a professorship." Laurent's uncle sneered. "You'd have to do that on your own merit."

Damen stood. More than anything else, he couldn't stand the way that Laurent had gone silent beside him. "We're going."

"Govart is off for the night."

"I'll call a cab," Damen said. Laurent stood next to him, and Damen let out a half-breath of relief. He had been worried Laurent would decide to just stay, and Damen didn't think he could afford to leave him behind.

"Are you sure this is a date?" Jord was pretty sure it felt more like every other time Nikandros had insisted Jord eat, except that Nikandros kept stopping eating to grin at him.

Nikandros' face fell, too exaggerated to be genuine. "Is it because we aren't playing footsie? It's probably because we're not playing footsie. I am so sorry Jord."

Jord hit him to cut him off. "No, I just..."

"It's allowed to feel comfortable," Nikandros said.

"Oh," Jord said, because it hadn't occurred to him that that was the problem.

Nikandros' eyes sparkled. "I still intend to walk you home and kiss you on your doorstep."

Jord snorted. "Maybe I'm just confused because you didn't show up with a dozen roses."

"Next time," Nikandros said.

"Promise?" Jord asked, taking another bite of pizza.

"Only that there will be a next time, if you want it."

Jord swallowed his bite because that didn't seem like the thing to respond to with his mouth full. "I do."

Damen didn't know if Laurent had been back to his uncle's since the night they'd gone together. He was afraid to ask, but he'd also made sure to offer his bed and his shower to Laurent nearly every night. He didn't care if Laurent went back to sleeping at his desk in the grad office, as long as he stayed somewhere on campus.

Tonight, Laurent had let Damen work the tension out of his body, and Damen was happy to do it, despite the inevitability that it would return the next day.

"Do you want to move in with me?" Damen asked.

Laurent shifted in the bed to rest his head on Damen's shoulder, his hand trailing down Damen's stomach. "I've slept here every night for the last week and a half," Laurent said.

"Good," Damen said, because he hadn't quite realized that. "But I meant more officially. I can get you a dresser."

Laurent started to laugh, and Damen could feel the vibration of his body against Damen's own. Laurent shifted to roll on top of Damen, to press their lips together. "I took over your closet a month ago."

"Oh? Well. That's good." Damen lifted a hand to comb through Laurent's hair, relishing the feel of the blond strands soft between his fingers. "I still love you, you know," he said, quietly enough that Laurent could choose to ignore it if he wanted.

"I know," Laurent said, and stiffened slightly.

Damen kept petting his hair, and he didn't say 'I know you love me too,' because he didn't want Laurent to feel pressured, and because that was the thing about that sort of statement. They could take their time with it.