#waiting for free brain space that isn't forthcoming

[savoytrufflephd]

your finger on my trigger

[Modern AU in which Damen assumes Auguste’s little brother is completely indifferent to him, until Laurent slowly takes control of Damen’s sex life and it’s all Damen never knew he needed.]

Nikandros looks up from his studying when Damen gets back to the apartment. “Wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight.”

Damen shrugs and sits down in front of the TV. He pulls up the Netflix menu and flips through options without settling on anything.

Nik comes over and sits next to him. “Are you alright, man?”

“I’m fine. What?” Even to his own ears, Damen sounds weird. “Sometimes I go out and don’t hook up.”

“I mean, ‘sometimes’ is a bit of an overstatement…”

“I just wasn’t feeling it.”

“I mean, you’re not usually picky…”

“Dude,” Damen says. “Stop slut-shaming me.”

“I’m not trying to. You just seem off, is all.” Nik turns and takes a closer look at Damen’s face. He frowns. “Are you seeing somebody?”

“Not really. I mean, no.”

“Not really,” Nik repeats. “Who are you ‘not really’ seeing?”

Damen waves his hand. “No one. It’s just, like, a thing.”

“A thing?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Not without more specific nouns, no.”

Damen sighs. “It’s like… I mean… have you ever had someone order you around? Like…sexually?”

“Like dominating you in bed?”

“I mean, beds haven’t really been involved…yet.”

Nik’s face is doing something complicated. “Have you joined the BDSM scene? Like do you have a Dom or something? Not that I’m judging…”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. I mean… there’s not a scene, really.”

“Damen,” Nik asks, suddenly serious, “have you consented to this?”

“Yes, of course!” Damen says. “Well, not in so many words, but it’s not like he’s holding a gun to my head.”

“He?”

“They,” Damen says quickly.

“You know that’s not the definition of consent, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay,” Nik begins, in a tone that brooks no argument, “I am—unfortunately—going to need more details.”

Damen can see how, from Nik’s perspective, this is a reasonable request. Also, Damen may be secretly dying to share something of all this.

“Okay, so remember last weekend at the bar when I took that guy into the—”

“Yes,” Nik interrupts. “I remember.”

“Okay, well, they, um, told me to do that.”

“They told you?”

“It was a text.”

“They texted you to…” Nik declines to finish the sentence. He frowns, thinking. “Wait a minute. Were they there? At the bar?”

“No.” Damen shakes his head for good measure.

“Dude. You can’t lie for shit. Who was it?”

“I’m really not going to tell you that,” Damen says.

It takes Nik less than thirty seconds to work it out on his own.

“Oh my god. It’s Auguste’s brother, isn’t it? What’s his name…”

“Laurent.”

Nik shakes his head. “I knew he was going to be trouble the moment I saw his face.”

“What?”

“He’s, like, the Platonic form of your type.”

“He’s Auguste’s little brother!” Damen protests.

“Who’s apparently in charge of your sex life!” Nik counters.

Fair point, but... “I haven’t even touched him.”

“You realize that only makes it weirder, right?”

He does… “But it’s so, so good, Nik.”

Nik covers his face with his hands. “I really wish you hadn’t told me this.”

“I tried not to!”

“Did you, though?”

Damen feels like a weight’s been lifted of his chest. “I’m really glad you know, though.”

Nik sighs. “Of course you are.”

Damen knows he must have a stupid look on his face. He feels giddy. He hears Nik take a deep breath and knows what’s coming.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Damen, but be careful, okay? You haven’t even talked about whatever this is. He could just be toying with you.”

Damen shakes his head. “I don’t know why, but I trust him, Nik.”

Nik sighs again. “Of course you do.”

[quickeningheart]

Seventeen

   When Charley entered the apartment at the end of the day, she was greeted with the rich scent of chocolate. Her mouth watered as she inhaled deeply, and her stomach growled; she hadn't gotten around to lunch, after all. Or much of a breakfast, for that matter. "Is that chocolate cake I smell?" she called.

   The bathroom door opened and Alley's head popped out. "Better," she replied.

   "Better than chocolate cake?" Charley lifted one of the towels spread over a baking sheet, eyes widening at the sight of round, red cakes cooling on them. "Are those…?"

   "Red velvet whoopie pies. They were your favorite, right?" Alley approached with a grin, pulling off a pair of rubber gloves. The heavy scent of cleaning chemicals and air-freshener followed in her wake. "I still have to add the filling, yet."

   "Who needs filling?" Charley picked up a still-hot cake, juggling it between her hands, and took a large bite. She sighed blissfully. "Still as good as I remember!" She finished it off in two more bites, sucking the sticky crumbs from her fingers.

   "That's great, Charley, but now there's a pie without a top."

   "Oh, well, we can take care of that." She picked up another pastry and wolfed it down.

   Alley laughed. "I think those boys have been a bad influence on you," she teased.

   Her cousin just smirked. "So what brought on this rabid bout of baking?" She glanced at the four trays of cakes sitting on the table, waiting for their filling.

   Alley fidgeted. "I made them for you. As an apology," she admitted. "I'm sorry I said all those things in front of your friends. I wasn't trying to embarrass you or make you look bad or anything. I was just worried."

   Charley grinned and shrugged. "Well, no big surprise. The filter between your brain and your mouth never did work right."

   Alley stuck her tongue out, slapping Charley's hand away when she reached for another pie. "I'm being serious! I feel really bad about it."

   "Look, I'm honestly not that upset. Just my pride got a little bruised, is all. But you know I'm not the type to hold grudges. Besides, something good came from it."

   Alley raised an eyebrow when her cousin blushed faintly, a goofy smile spreading over her face. "You look like a teenager crushing on the hot guy in class," she teased.

   "He is pretty hot," Charley agreed, laughing when Alley pulled a face. "Or maybe older men are more your type," she added slyly, "given that little scene I walked in on this morning and all…"

   "That was—!" Alley blushed to the roots of her hair. "That was…"

   "Kinda hot, is what is was," Charley snickered. "Another second and the kitchen might've erupted in flames."

   "Another second and I'd have punched that letch through the wall!"

   "Hmmm." Charley eyed her cousin thoughtfully. "If you really wanted to punch him, seems to me you'd 've done it."

   "What are you implying?" Alley huffed. "That I'm giving in to his charms? No way! I'm not into furries. Especially old furries."

   Charley laughed. "So you admit he has charms, eh?"

   "What? That isn't—!" Alley pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, if you want to date Vinnie, that's all fine and dandy. Knock yourself out, I'm honestly happy that you're happy. But please just … don't…" She faltered, not wanting to upset her cousin all over again. "I'm not—"

   "Okay, okay. Relax," the mechanic soothed. "I was only teasing. I understand. I really do, and I promise not to say anything else about it, all right?" She drew a line across her lips, turning an imaginary key.

   "Thank you," Alley replied with a sigh, opening the fridge to grab a bowl full of whipped filling. She offered it with a sheepish smile. "Want to help me frost?"

   "Only if I get to lick the spatula."

   She snickered. "You're such a kid."

   "Damn straight. Keeps me young." Charley grinned and riffled around in the bottom cabinets until she unearthed an ancient Tupperware container. She pursed her lips, eyeballing the container, then the cakes. "Ummm … pretty sure all these ain't gonna fit in here."

   "Is that the only container you have?" Alley looked horrified.

   Charley chuckled. "I'm no master chef. Never needed more than one before."

   "I'm just gonna have to buy you the whole damn kitchen and be done with it," the blonde grumbled.

   "Like you can afford that."

   "I can with the jewels Stoker left behind."

   There was a marked silence; Alley reached up to pull down several dinner plates from the cabinet, deliberately ignoring the irritation on her cousin's face.

   "I told him I didn't want his charity!" Charley burst out.

   Alley pursed her lips, setting the plates down with a thunk and fixing her cousin with a hard stare. "That's your ego talking. Can't you tell the difference between charity and a heartfelt gift? But, whatever. Since you didn't want it, he gave it to me, instead."

   "And you have no problems accepting handouts."

   "I fail to see how this is a handout," Alley replied, pulling a roll of wax paper from a drawer and tearing several sheets from it to line the plates. "He found the jewelry, didn't he? And he already took what he needed from it. The rest of the jewels are just junk to him. But they're worth a pretty penny to most humans. So, rather than tossing out some incredibly valuable rocks, he deemed it more economical to give the rest to you, so you can take what you need from them. I don't think that's charity so much as some pretty damned useful recycling."

   Charley opened and closed her mouth several times, trying for a retort, but finding none forthcoming. She huffed and picked up a well-worn spatula, using it to slap a large dollop of filling onto half of a pie. She used a little too much force, however; the pastry crumbled easily, leaving a red and white gooey mess sitting in her palm. She scowled down at it for a second, until a choked giggle had her switching her glare to Alley, instead, who was doing a poor job of hiding her amusement. "Shut up," she grumbled, flinging the mess at her. It landed smack-dab in the center of Alley's chest, earning an outraged squeak.

   The tension broke as Charley broke into giggles of her own, her irritation melting away. "Okay," she admitted grudgingly. "I suppose I might have possibly let my ego overrule my common sense on this subject, but it doesn't sit right with me to just be handed a huge amount of money like that." She sighed, turning on the sink to wash her hand off. "I busted my ass to get this garage up and running, and to keep it going despite everything conspiring to shut me down. To accept help, no matter how well-intended, just feels too much like … giving up. Like admitting I can't do it."

   "Nobody would believe that," Alley scolded, dabbing at the frosting on her shirt. "Those guys wouldn't think less of you. You mean the world to them. They just want to help, the same way you've been helping them all this time. You consider each other family, right? Isn't family supposed to support each other when it's needed?"

   "You make a good point," Charley conceded.

   "I've made a lot of good points. You just didn't want to listen to them. And I guess that was my fault, too."

   "Well." Charley leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "I'm listening now. Do you have anything else to say about my business practices that you think I should know?"

   "Actually…" she hedged, "I think I've got an idea that might solve some of your problems. At least on a temporary basis."

   "Oh? Do tell."

   "Well, in regards to those gems, if you're that determined to keep your garage running by yourself, why not just sell them and open a separate bank account with the money? It could be like a … a disaster relief fund or something."

   "A what?"

   "Give the guys the money. They don't have any of their own, right? In that sense, they're way worse off than you," Alley pointed out. "You can set up an account for them, under your name."

   "Okay…" Charley nodded. "And doing that would accomplish … what, exactly?"

   Alley rolled her eyes. "Well, for one thing, if they put any more holes through your doors, or manage to blow up some of the much-needed equipment to do your work, they can actually pay for it, for a change. Rather than you dipping into your own savings to cover replacement parts or whatever, dip into theirs, instead." She held up a finger. "And also! Those fancy, highly-expensive upgrades you're always giving those bikes of theirs? You'll no longer have to pay for them yourself."

   "That doesn't seem right, making them pay for stuff I always offered for free," Charley protested.

   "What's the big deal? Not like they actually earned any of that hypothetical money," Alley pointed out dryly.

   Well, Charley could hardly argue with that logic. She huffed a laugh and shrugged. "I guess it's not bad, as far as ideas go," she grudgingly admitted. "It doesn't really work as a long-term solution, though."

   "Well, no, I did say it was temporary. Whatever money the gems bring in would run out eventually, but at least it'd give you a chance to catch up and rebuild your finances. Take some of the pressure off, for a while at least."

   Charley tapped her chin, staring into space as she thought. "I'll talk it over with the guys," she decided. "See what they think."

   "That mean you'll do it?"

   "I guess it wouldn't hurt to give it a try." She shrugged. "It'll get those furballs to stop nagging at me, if nothing else." She grinned and shook her head, shooting Alley an impressed glance. "Really, I dunno how you do it. First, getting them to eat something other than junk food, and now this. All these years with them constantly putting holes through my walls and now they suddenly grow a conscience about it. Did you take a class or something? Guilt Trip 101?"

   Alley scoffed. "Please. Have you met my mother? That woman's got guilt-tripping down to a science, and she's practiced on me my entire life. Those guys never stood a chance!"

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