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gingerbreadmonsters · 10 months ago

Text

IM GOING TO EXPLODE

not a day goes by (that I'm not into you)

Snapshots of a day in DAMNily apartment, inspired by @angelnoodlesoup's Timestamp series.

Tags: Freelancer/Gavin/Lasko/Damien/Huxley aka the Polycule, mild cursing and suggestive language, spoilers for Squid Game: The Challenge and Saltburn

Also available on AO3

12:00 AM

Fitting five people in a bed, even a California King, is just as difficult and sweaty as one could expect.

Huxley is hanging half off the damn thing- poor dude needs a third of the bed himself, not a fifth- but he loves being on the outside closest to the door.

Damien, surprisingly and much to Gavin’s delight, curls into Huxley’s side with his hands folded and tucked between them like a cuddly, loafing house cat. This would be much cuter if this didn’t tangle his legs and feet with Lasko’s.

The air elemental, unsurprisingly, tosses and turns like the troubled heroine of a Victorian romance novel. Never able to stop fidgeting, Lasko’s place in the middle of the sleeping lineup was a conscious decision so the men on either side of him could throw a limb over him and hold on if need be.

Gavin, on his other side, never seems to mind the task of wrapping himself around Lasko. The incubus tends to sleep on his stomach, the toned skin of his back and legs tantalizingly, shamelessly uncovered, and is always curling an arm and tail around the air elemental to keep him in place.

Freelancer, first to wake and last to rest, sleeps like the dead with a haphazard foot hanging off the bed and a hand loosely but sweetly held in Gavin’s.

The arrangement is sweaty and cramped and not super comfortable. Freelancer has fallen off the bed more than once, often taking Gavin down with them in the process. Huxley upsets the balance of the slumber ecosystem every time his hydrated self gets up to pee. Lasko sometimes has to army crawl backwards off the bed out of fear of waking up the couples on either side of him, and Damien fights Gavin for blankets at least once a week.

They’ve never slept better.

2:08 AM

“Are you awake, Deviant?” Gavin whispers, cuddling his Freelancer and molding himself to the curve of their back. With his nose nestled in the crook of their neck, he can smell their sweet, coconut body wash and taste the rich, dulce de leche flavor of their arousal.

“Nope,” they whine, burying their face in the pillow while reaching back to sleepily tug at his hair. “Deviant can’t come to the phone right now; leave a message.” Gavin hums at the gorgeous sensation of their nails against his scalp and presses open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin below their ear.

“I wanted to see-” the incubus murmurs, grazing his teeth against their earlobe and grinning at the shiver that runs down his love’s back. “-if our resident voyeur might like to wake up and watch the show.” This makes the sleep-bedraggled Freelancer perk to attention, finally hearing the barely-there sighs and gasps from Gavin’s other side. Lasko, who’d woken the incubus with his stirring after a very good dream, bites back another hushed sound as Gavin’s mischievous tail makes his dream a reality.

“Looks like you’re intent on playing truant. Don’t worry, I’ll take notes of what you missed,” he muses, lowering his voice just enough so Freelancer may note the quiet sound of Lasko’s thin sleep shirt sliding up against his skin.

“Anything you’d like to add, Professor?” The air elemental whines soft and sweet as more pesky clothing gets pushed to the side, and Freelancer starts to turn toward their boys when Damien groans into his pillow.

“I have something to add,” the fire elemental says with a muffled growl, causing Lasko to shrink back from the heat with a startled yelp. “Go the fuck back to sleep, or take it to the couch.” The trio chime in with assorted apologies, and Damien huffs indignantly before turning his back on them.

Blissfully, ignorantly, Huxley snores away.

6:22 AM

“Mornin, Lasko. Breakfast and coffee are ready when you are,” Huxley says to the air elemental’s reflection when he turns off his powers with a snap and meets his eyes in the mirror. “You’re looking cute today.”

“You scared the sh- crap out of me!” Lasko replies with a start. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake- you were still in bed when I got up. Did- did I wake you?” Huxley smiles, beguiled, and kisses the top of dripping wet hair.

“I wanted to wake up early anyway, squeeze in a morning run while the weather is nice.” The taller man rests his chin atop the shorter’s head, and Lasko laughs from the ticklish sensation. “Figured I’d handle two birds with one stone and make sure you actually remember to eat before you head out today,” he admonishes gently with a wide grin and a warm hand on Lasko’s ribs pulling him closer to his chest.

“You didn’t- you didn’t have to do that; I can take care of myself!” Lasko protests, tilting his head up and back to properly look him in the eyes with a plaintive, apologetic expression. The teacher- flustered, unkempt, fresh out the morning shower, and plagued with morning breath- is too cute to resist, and Huxley is helpless but to lean down and give him a proper good morning kiss.

“Yeah, but it’s more fun when I do it.” A smile, a kiss on the temple, a gentle hand correcting the air elemental’s glasses, and Huxley leaves the bathroom so Lasko can continue his routine undisturbed. “Get dressed, finish drying your hair, and the coffee will be ready by the time you’re done. I’m putting a double shot in your tumbler since you have office hours today.”

“I love you, Hux,” Lasko calls out softly, adoringly, with weak knees, and Huxley hits him with a wink and another megawatt grin over the shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Love you too, dude!”

8:02 AM

“Have you seen my Triage Healing book? I just saw it on Sunday, and it’s got my notes in it.”

“It’s under the- Sunday, Freelancer? You haven’t touched your book and homework in four days?”

“He means that it’s under the bed where Gav hid it,” Huxley hollers, watching in amusement from the dining room as his loves scramble about the apartment.

“Why would you do that?!” Freelancer yells, sprinting to dive amongst the dust bunnies under their bed, eventually letting out a muffled ‘aha!’

“You were ignoring me,” Gavin yells back from the kitchen, comfortably seated on the counter and drinking his latte with a lazy grin. Freelancer comes out the hallway with an accusatory scowl and their fire elemental boyfriend hot on their heels, nitpicking lint and dust out of their hair. “I wanted attention.”

“We wanted you to rest,” Damien says, patting down Freelancer’s back with brisk, aggressive affection. “You were about to start drooling onto the Coding graph, and then you wouldn’t have learned shit.”

“You’re one to talk! You were talking about warding supports in your sleep! Again!” Freelancer snarks, batting away Damien’s busybody hands with sharp elbows and playful smacks.

“They’re right,” Huxley chimes in with an affectionate, indulgent grin. “You were mumbling about ward geometry again.”

“Whose side are you on, Hux!” Damien says with a huff, shoving an apple into Freelancer’s hands and another into his jacket pocket. Gavin passes them prepped, color coded travel mugs: red with sugar-loaded black coffee for Damien and silver with coconut milk caramel latte for Freelancer. The earth elemental watches this familiar exchange for the millionth time before pointing at the wall clock hanging behind him.

“Whatever side gets you guys to class on time.” Freelancer and Damien’s eyes widen into matching, comical expressions of alarm, and they fling themselves out the door in a flurry of kisses, papers, and tangled shoelaces. Huxley laughs with the steady calm of a working adult with a hybrid schedule before turning to Gavin. “Don’t you have to leave too? You’re in the same class as Freelancer.” The incubus smiles with the smugness of a creature built of pure magic and rifts with a blown kiss and a snap of his manicured fingers.

11:24 AM

“-and then this infant of a water elemental tries to put out the fire- xi barely manages a puddle- and the earth elemental next to xim is freaking out. He’s pacing back and forth, trying to suffocate the fire with dirt- everyone is scared and dirty-“ Damien whirls sharply, knife pointed safely but threateningly at the floor, and Lasko nods placidly, carefully grating cheese with a stern focus. “Everyone is scared and dirty and hot, and Professor Banerjee is laughing. Meanwhile, I’m trying to coral the students away from the fire like they’re rabid toddlers, and do you know where the other TA was, the contra-fire elemental we were scheduled to have today?”

“Not where he was supposed to be?” Lasko responds sheepishly, passing the cutting board to Damien who grabs it with a brisk but not unkind manner and nary a glance.

“A fucking no show,” the fire elemental rages with a growl, brusquely shoving cheese on top of the bread and laying hands on it until the cheese bubbles and browns, a cookbook-perfect picture of French onion soup. He grabs the bowls with swift, bare hands and storms towards the couch, and Lasko follows right behind with spoons and napkins. The air elemental puts them down on the table next to the soup and is about to ask if he should get them water when a strong, warm arm pulls him down onto the couch.

“Tell me about your morning,” Damien mumbles, head on Lasko’s lap and face pressed petulantly against his stomach.

“I, I can do that, sure, Damien, but don’t, don’t you think you might want to sit up? Our food might- um, might get cold?” A single eye squints up at him in narrowed, judging contemplation, watching as Lasko giggles at the flash of warm palms slipping under his shirt against his back. “You’re right, silly question. Umm, want to hear about the Advanced Telepathy TA that’s having a worse day than you?” Damien hums his assent, a soft vibration he can feel through his shirt, and Lasko barely resists the urge to audibly compare it to the purring of a grumpy cat. The fire elemental imperceptibly leans into the hands carding through his hair, and the air elemental snaps a quick picture to show their partners later before starting to ramble.

1:36 PM

“Wait, what do you mean they’re taking the pandas back?” Caelum asks with wide eyes and abject horror.

“So all the pandas in the world are on loan from the Chinese government…” Freelancer trails off, carefully and slowly pouring hot soup into ramekins while their empathy daemon friend sits on the counter and whines. “…and they are going to be taking them back next year.”

“They can do that?” he asks, aghast with jaw dropped, and Gavin gives him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “How are we going to get to see the pandas? I’m not going to be able to visit my friends?”

“That’s why I was saying we should go to the zoo together next month, make a day out of it, before they go.” Freelancer pops the garnished soup under the broiler and joins Gavin, patting their friend on the head and ruffling his hair.

“Don’t forget that you and I can just riff to China to see them. Like, whenever we want.” The young empathy daemon’s face brightens with joy at the reminder, literal magic sparkling in his eyes, and he’s listing off all the amazing things he wants to see in Asia and relay to his charge when Huxley stops at home.

“Hey, dudes, fancy seeing you here,” the earth elemental says with a smile, pressing quick kisses to both of their cheeks. Behind him, Caelum is still ticking sights off his fingers: the Great Wall, the terracotta soldiers, the Forbidden City, which Freelancer is honestly surprised the childish daemon had heard of. “Who’s the third bowl for?” he asks, nodding at the trio’s lunch on the counter. Caelum’s eyes widen comically, finding Gavin’s over Huxley’s shoulders, and Freelancer scrambles mentally to cover.

“The stray dog outside,” Freelancer blurts out with their best poker face on. “That sweet, friendly one that just had pups? She came up to us when we came home and looked hungry, so we thought we’d share our lunch with her.”

“Awww, that’s so nice of you guys,” Huxley gushes with a warm, loving expression that only slightly digs at Gavin and Freelancer’s hearts over their fib. “Can you pour some out for me too? I’ll be right back.”

“Of course, Hux,” Gavin says, repressing a devilish grin that he only reveals when Huxley turns and heads towards the bathroom. “A sweet, stray dog with puppies, Deviant? You’re going to hell.”

“There’s a seat down there with my name on it, and it’s right next to yours.”

4:02 PM

“Do you think the pandas get lonely?” Gavin hums thoughtfully, papers magically shuffling and righting themselves midair before being placed in neat stacks on the bookshelf.

“I don’t think so. That’s partially why they always come in twos, not to mention pandas have all those hundreds of people who come to see and visit them every day,” the older demon says with a smile, assuaging the younger daemon’s worries. He must succeed when Caelum hums a cheerier tune, floating about the room and pausing every so often to drink water despite not needing to- a habit he picked up from watching Freelancer.

“Do you think the pandas would like it if I went into their enclosure?” he asks brightly. Gavin mentally blue-screens as he tries to formulate the best answer. Animals could historically react to the presence of daemons on a spectrum from cuddles to attempted murder. Though Caelum would escape from that physically unscathed, Gavin struggles to consider the emotional ramifications of his younger brother trying to hug a panda and the bear trying to eat his face. He’s still stuck on remembering the average temperament of a panda when Freelancer and Damien come home in a flurry of affectionately raised voices.

“He loved him,” the freelancer insists with a cheesy grin that the fire elemental responds to with a scoff and an eye roll.

“Oliver loved him as much as a leech loves its host, as the tapeworm loves the person whose stomach they inhabit. He basically says so at the end!” Freelancer dumps their backpack on the couch with a shake of their head as they kiss Gavin’s cheek and make their way to the kitchen, and Damien instinctively picks it up and follows, putting their bags at the dining table.

“I know what he said, Damien. I’m talking about what he didn’t say, his actions, his subtext,” Freelancer says, gesturing emphatically with their water bottle, spilling the contents, and magicking the puddle down the sink drain.

“His actions were murder, Freelancer!” Damien yells with a laugh, throwing his hands in the air in familiar, practiced exasperation. “His actions were spree murder.”

“He only killed two people in a short period of time; that’s not spree killing. Do your research.” Still laughing, Damien rushes forward to shut their Freelancer up with a kiss. Caelum giggles fondly, bashfully at the scene, before rifting away with a grin, nod, and a bubbly thumbs up. Gavin considers worrying for a second whether the young daemon would find out how aggressive pandas are tonight before deciding that the protostar would be fine and relish the adventure.

“What are you two lunatics arguing about today?” he asks, sidling up behind the pair and angling for a “hello” kiss.

6:25 PM

“I’m home!” Huxley calls, juggling the pizza boxes and gym bag as he struggles to toe off his shoes. “Babes?” No footsteps stomp in response, no upturned kisses or enthusiastic greetings await him, only muffled chatter from the kitchen. With only a slight pout, the earth elemental follows the voices of his loves.

“This scene exists, and people are busy talking about the bathtub?” Gavin’s familiar, smooth timbre says with a laugh, and Freelancer can be heard joining in with the mirth along with Damien’s more restrained chuckle. “Barry Keoghan, you little freak,” the incubus says, impressed and fascinated.

“Who’s a freak?” Huxley asks curiously, popping in and putting the boxes in the kitchen table behind an open laptop Damien and Freelancer suspiciously move to close and angle away from him.

“It’s a horror movie,” Damien says quickly at the look of concern and confusion that flashes through his face.

“I legitimately don’t think you’d have the stomach for it,” Freelancer agrees, wincing sympathetically at the memory of their The Thing movie night. None of them would ever be able to forget the sickly, impossible shade of green he had turned at the combination of tension and gore.

“Now hold on a minute,” Gavin interjects giddily with a shit-eating grin. “I think the big guy, out of all of us, would benefit from a watch. After all, you’re the hole-digging expert, right, Hux?” Damien is giving Gavin’s shoulder a scolding swat and Huxley is watching them with a quizzical smile when Lasko scrambles in, a flurry of mussed hair and apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m late,” the air elemental says, flustered and ironically out of breath. “Am I late? Is dinner super cold? I meant to text, I swear

I did, but my phone died, and my crappy, generic Amazon wire stopped working. What did I miss?”

“No clue,” Huxley offers cheerfully, giving Lasko a sweet kiss on the temple.

“Grave fucking!” Gavin says gleefully, without abandon. Lasko’s face predictably flushes, confused and abashed, and Huxley’s twists into an expression of such utter, pure bewilderment that their partners cannot help but laugh.

8:43 PM

“I feel like I’m a Capitol citizen watching The Hunger Games,” Damien says with a grumble.

“It is weirdly dystopian,” Freelancer agrees, their head on his lap. “The ink packs exploding mimicking them being shot is cool but also sort of fucking insane.”

“Everyone falling over and pretending to die when they’re eliminated is so funny, but I kind of feel weird for laughing,” Huxley mumbles, nails tapping a distracted rhythm against Gavin’s horns.

“Sooooo weird,” the incubus agrees, lying across their huge sectional so his calves intertwine with Freelancer’s as they lay across their boyfriend’s laps. “Why are so many of them stopping with their hands in their pockets like that? It looks like that’d be bad for their balance.” Lasko, who had been knitting absentmindedly between Damien and Huxley, has trailed off, clicks away at the familiar pattern as he frowns at the tv.

“I actually read somewhere that they’re doing that because it was, like, forty degrees on set, and they’re trying to keep their hands warm.” Damien starts to heat up, his face curling in outrage and disgust, and Lasko and Freelancer reach out to pat him with placating hands.

“We really have to find another show to watch now that we finished Cutthroat Kitchen. I’m pretty sure our couch won’t survive otherwise,” Huxley says with a grin, leaning into Damien’s eyeline to flash those dimples he knows the fire elemental loves so much. Predictably, his face softens like butter, chilling from inferno to simmering displeasure as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“The Great British Bake Off will be back soon, don’t you worry, Wildfire.” Gavin playfully nudges Dames’s pouting cheeks with his foot until he gives in, laughing and batting the offending appendage away.

“That’ll be its own whole can of worms,” Lasko says, arms raised high, trying to knit over the incubus’s leg. “Remember BinGate?”

“Don’t remind him of BinGate. We only mention that when we don’t want to rack up the heating bill,” Freelancer jokes, cut off when Damien drops a pillow on their face.

10:21 PM

“Hux, I love you, big guy, I really do, but if you don’t move those burly, scratchable shoulders aside, I will spit on your ass. Not in the sexy way, I might add.” Huxley chokes out a laugh, a silly guffaw muffled by toothpaste foam, and he scooches left to give Gavin room at the sink. The earth elemental bumps in Damien who protests as testily as he can with a mouth full of mouthwash, and Huxley hums a sweet, nonverbal hum for an apology. The incubus bends over, spitting into the sink, and the look of him in the mirror when he rights himself is so domestic, his hair wet and rumpled, his body sheathed in Huxley’s too big t-shirt. Gavin, as loathe as Damien can be to admit, downright adorable, and he cannot resist reaching out and thumbing away a speck of white away from his boyfriend’s lips. That mouth grins rakishly in response, his tongue playfully flicking to lick the foam off Damien’s finger, and the fire elemental grunts in fury before spitting out the mouthwash.

“That’s not good for you, Gav! Spit it out!”

“I’m more fond of swallowing, I’m afraid,” Gavin says with a chuckle, wiping at his mouth with the hem of his shirt and coincidentally revealing the soft, touchable flesh of his tanned stomach.

“Yeah, we know!” Freelancer calls from the shower, their voice and Lasko’s ensuing laughter bouncing off the tiles.

“We sort of gathered that-” the air elemental adds. “-not that we’re not fond of it, of course.”

“Yeah, don’t let Damien get you down. He’s just jealous of your swallowing skills.”

“Come say that to my face, Freelancer!” the fire elemental shouts, and Huxley laughs again, the task of teeth brushing forgotten.

“Damn, Dames, if you wanted to see them naked, you could just ask,” he teases, laughing louder and clutching his stomach as Damien looks up at him with shocked betrayal.

“Et tu, brute?” he asks in an accusing whisper, his scowl breaking into a smile as he pushes the earth elemental towards the sink. “You assholes forget I know where you all sleep.”

11:02 PM

“One more paper.”

“You said that four papers ago. Hand ‘em over, Moore.”

“What if I really mean it this time?”

“What if I smother you with a pillow to get you to sleep?” Lasko gasps, looking up at Damien with a wounded look in his eye even as he obediently passes his papers and pens to the testy fire elemental. “That’s what I thought.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Huxley coos, leaning over Damien to press a kiss to Lasko’s temple. “I wouldn’t let him kill you.”

“My hero,” the air elemental jokes weakly, sleepily, taking off his glasses to rub at drooping eyes. Gavin takes them with his tail and puts them in their designated place on the nightstand before climbing into bed on Lasko’s other side. Freelancer neglects to follow, sitting at the foot of the bed and pouring over their own assignments.

“Why don’t you threaten them? Freelancer’s doing work too!” With a snap of the fingers, Damien sets the edge of their textbook alight, the paper just catching when Freelancer douses it with a pout.

“You’re a bastard,” they say accusingly, passing their things to Gavin who tucks the contraband safely beneath the bed.

“A bastard who loves you and wants you to fucking rest,” Damien agrees, throwing their designated pillow at their face and smiling approvingly when they catch it with Psychokinetic ease.

12:00 AM

“Are you okay, Gavin?” Without his glasses, he can see hardly anything in the shadows of the moonlit room but Lasko Moore could pick Gavin’s profile out of hundreds in a second. The silhouette turns to look down at him, and Lasko reaches up to clumsily pet the incubus’s cheek. He hums softly, fingers smoothing along soft skin and cheekbones, and Gavin leans into the touch, his cheek nestling affectionately into Lasko’s palm.

“I’m okay, baby,” he whispers, stroking the air elemental’s hair until he settles back into the pillows. “Go back to sleep. I won’t be far behind you.” He mumbles something vaguely in the affirmative, more unconscious than not, and Gavin gazes down at the face of the sleeping man next to him. Not quite under the heavy influence of deep sleep, Lasko’s face is blissfully unburdened and slack with slumber. His freshly washed and dried hair acts like a fluffy halo, framing his face in a way Lasko will hate come morning but Gavin adores now. Behind him, Damien and Huxley are similarly relaxed and beautiful in their vulnerability. The earth elemental’s mouth is curled into a half-smile even as he sleeps, and Damien’s mouth is slack and wide open, drool trailing down his cheek as he snores. The incubus is biting back a laugh and wishing he could take a picture when a warm, soft hand wraps around his.

“Who’s the voyeur now?” his Freelancer whispers playfully. Gavin smiles at them without a word, and his human gently tugs until he lays back down beside them. Then they wrap their arm around his torso, their leg tossed over his and their head nestled beneath his chin. “Go to sleep. You can be a Peeping Tom tomorrow.”

“Promise?” he asks, mumbling into their hair and breathing deeply in that irreplaceable scent of humanity and love and home. Gavin’s arms tighten around their shoulders as if trying to intertwine their auras with sheer force, and Freelancer presses a kiss to his chest, right over his full, thudding heart.

“Promise. Now sleep; if we wake Damien up two nights in a row, he’ll burn our coffee.”

#i #my life is irrevocably changed. i will.never be the same #bursting into actual tears on the train rn lexi i am kissing u #NO WORDS WILL FORM IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN #a million million million out of ten i am experiencing shrimp emotions rn #fics that change the world #i love them so deeply and i love them in this fic especially #our lexi cannot miss #lexi beloved <3

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