Chapter Text
Touch You
Day 0: The Job
Damen had to struggle not to roll his eyes at the man in front of him. Piss-drunk, belligerent, and half a foot shorter than Damianos, he was shouting incoherently whilst jabbing his index finger into Damen’s chest. Damen was losing his patience and decided he had had enough when the man gave him a firm shove. That was a mistake, even though Damen had not even staggered under the force of said push. Damen used about a quarter of his strength to flip the man, causing him to land on his back on the asphalt. It was not a blow meant to cause severe damage; it simply knocked the wind out of him and, more importantly, it made him shut up.
He resumed his place by the bar entrance in the unlikely case the drunk man was able to get up and try to make his way back in. Nikandros, who was standing guard inside, struggled to hide a laugh in the flashing lights of the club; no doubt Damen would be teased mercilessly when they got back to headquarters. That he, Damianos, who was once set to inherit his father’s elite protection and surveillance company, was now doing the most menial of bouncer jobs was a source of endless teasing back at headquarters.
He didn’t take it personally.
Most of the men teased him in an attempt to spur him into action, to take back his rightful place in the company. But Kastor must have had a reason to order him to this, and he did not want to let his older brother down. Also, the job was boring but it was easy: mostly just throwing out people too inebriated to understand boundaries. And Damen was well suited to that.
His was a form that inspired a wave of fear or a wave of safety depending on the situation. He stood at a colossal six and half feet tall and years of military and athletic training had given him a musculature much unseen outside of special operatives and professional athletes. He could disarm a man with a single limb, use almost any object as a weapon, and employ a number of other tasks that effectively made him one of the best personal guards on the market and the obvious choice as a successor of the company that hired him and his men out.
But only two months ago, after his father had been hospitalized, his half brother Kastor had convinced their board of directors to instate him as head of the company in Damen’s stead. Then---for unknown reasons---he had relegated Damen and his friends down to the lowest level entry positions, despite their expert skills. They should have been personal bodyguards to the highest-ranking men in the city, but instead they had been forced to follow their friend. Damen had felt that slight more acutely than any other.
“I’m amazed you didn’t send him flying.” Nikandros commented as he drove Damen and their other associate Pallas back to headquarters a few hours later.
It was just now dawn and the very hem of the sky was a swirling mixture of pink, lavender, and pale blue. However, none of them felt even the slightest bit tired, despite having stayed up all night long in a pulsing nightclub. It was part of the job, to be able to survive on minimal amounts of sleep.
“Murder was not in the job description,” Damen replied lightly from the passenger’s seat. “I would hate to get a complaint about our services.” The fact that they were working at said club showed that they were on thin ice to begin with.
Their glossy black sedan pulled into the lowest level basement parking lot and the three men walked to the stairs with a quick step.
Their training as bodyguards made them extremely distrustful of parking garages, even when it was their own, and they avoided elevators on whole. Even though six flights of stairs was not a warm welcome after a full night’s work, it was better than risking your chances in a slow, tiny box of death. They were always on the alert.
Grunts worked in the first basement level of the building and Damen could not suppress a little regret when he saw the golden lion emblem of the company---his company---logo emblazoned on the glass door. But, like his exhaustion, he pushed it aside in his mind and walked in to greet his comrades.
At this time of morning on a weekend, things were usually dead as most entry-level gigs were overnight and his comrades would just now be getting off the payroll. They would come in to present their work slip as a timesheet and then run off to bed before returning late in the afternoon for the next round of jobs. Only two people were actually there before Damen’s group: Lydos and Aktis.
The two of them perked up the moment he came into view.
“Boss, thank god you’re back---“
“Did you expect me not to come back?” Damen interrupted laughingly as he removed his heavy black jacket. “And I told you guys before: don’t call me boss. I’m not the boss of anything at the moment.”
“You don’t understand.” Lydos began again looking quite harried. “When we got back, there was---“
Now the group was concerned; it took a lot to make people in Damen’s faction so anxious. Nikandros pressed a hand to his hip, where he could snap open the holster of his gun in a breath. “What’s wrong with you two? You look like you’ve got ants up your ass…” Had the building been compromised?
Aktis was more to the point. “There’s a job here. He was here waiting for us---well, no---waiting for Damen. He’s waiting for you in there.” As he pointed to the tiny conference room, Aktis seemed almost shell-shocked, which was highly unusual for men of his caliber.
Damen’s interest was piqued. “Is it another bar job? Concert? No, wait, will I have to detail at a strip club?” The sarcasm was lost on them.
Lydos shook his head quickly. “I think you should go in there and talk to him. This job is probably going to be more…like the old stuff.”
Nikandros looked like he wanted to offer to accompany Damen into the room, but Damen held up one hand. He was confident in his skills; he had a handgun wedged firmly in the waistband of his trousers, a taser at his hip, and a knife in his right boot. If it were a job, he’d be more than willing to listen but would probably send it up to corporate if it was so important. Mostly he was curious over what kind of person had managed to rattle his friends.
Damen entered the room as quiet as humanly possible so he could gauge the client, but his stealth was for naught. The largest, nicest leather chair in the room had been purposefully moved to face the door so that the occupant of said chair would notice the moment anyone came in the room.
Damen froze in shock and his ‘client’ smiled sardonically.
He recognized the man in front of him. It was his old friend, his recent ‘enemy’, Auguste. He had not been so close to him in at least six years, and they had not been friends in ten, but Damen would recognize him anywhere.
Auguste’s father, Aleron, owned an enormous business conglomerate in the city and, up until Damen and Auguste were fourteen, Aleron had regularly called on the services of Theomedes’ company as bodyguards. But their fathers had had a falling out and Damen and Auguste had not spoken since. Indeed they had spent the time cultivating a vague dislike for one another.
Where Damen was dark of skin and hair with a boxer’s physique, Auguste was golden and fair. His long hair was slicked back into an elegant ponytail that somehow suited his angular features, and his body was long and lean and looked excellent in his tailor-made suits---today’s suit a three piece black and white with thin gray pinstripes on the vest. He was incredibly handsome though he looked arrogant with having caught Damen off-guard and for having his dress shoes up on the table.
When they had been friends Auguste had been funny, energetic, intelligent, and polished and he and Damen had spent many boring adult functions coming up with their own amusements. Unfortunately, Damen could feel his father’s prejudices beginning to cloud his memories and he could find few vestiges of his old friend in this stone-cold man in his conference room.
“Long time no see, Damianos.” He remarked in an almost disinterested tone.
Damen gritted his teeth over the use of his full name. “Auguste. What do you want?”
Auguste leveled him with an ice blue gaze. “If this is how you treat potential clients, I find it no small wonder that your brother has pushed you down here to the basement to take beginners’ work.” Auguste had always been clever and well spoken but apparently in their time apart he had developed the poisonous quality of an adder.
Damen was furious. “Well then I don’t see why you’re here. If you consider this operation beneath your attention then by all means: get the fuck out.”
He opened the door and actually considered tossing Auguste out himself. Though they were close in height Damen was definitely the stronger of the two of them. Auguste’s eyes narrowed for only a moment.
“Oh sit down. You and I both know you’re not meant to be here.”
Damen hesitantly took the chair directly opposite Auguste. “Why are you here Auguste?”
For a moment, Auguste looked truly torn. Like he wanted to up and bolt from the room without saying another word. “I need…I need to hire a bodyguard.” He seemed to hate the words as they burst out of him. “I want the absolute best for it and so…” his lips twisted in distaste at the roundabout compliment, “I came here to find you.” Auguste then crossed his arms as if the matter was settled.
Damen was flabbergasted.
When he finally composed his thoughts it was hard for him to decide which question he should begin with. “Why? Why me? Why not go up to the main office and request someone? Are you mocking me?”
Auguste rolled his eyes and furrowed his brow. “Everyone says you gave up your company without a fight, but for someone who gave this operation up, you certainly are touchy. No, I’m not mocking you; I’m here because I’m taking this quite seriously. It has to be you. The squabble between our fathers has created the unfortunate side effect in that I am effectively disbarred from outright hiring a guard from your company. I cannot waltz into the main office without being thrown out on my ass.” Damen had to admit that his description would have probably been just what would have happened. “I am here because I know no one is giving you any meaningful work for your skill set and, what’s more, your half brother thinks because you gave up to his whims so willingly he does not even need to keep tabs on you.”
His words flowed fast and hot as lava, causing Damen to think that this was a highly personal matter to Auguste. However, he paused and calmed himself.
Gently, Auguste rested his elbows on the table and folded his fingers together, very businesslike. “I trust you with this because I know you and yours have not had any contact with my family in years. This job is to be an absolute secret and you must accept it before I give you any of the particulars. What I can tell you is that this job will last at least one month, it will be a round the clock protection gig and I will pay you, in gold right now.”
As if to drive the point home, Auguste pulled a briefcase up from off the floor and slid it across the desk to Damen with considerable effort.
As he clicked it open, Damen sucked in breath at the telltale glow of gold. Set in the satin interior of the briefcase were three inch-thick bars of solid gold stamped with the starburst crest of Auguste’s company.
“I don’t need your gold.” Damen said distastefully. Did Auguste truly think he could be bought with this? Damen was not so hard up for cash.
Auguste’s eyes glinted. “I’ll give you that…and I can guarantee your reinstatement back into the upper levels of your company.” He did not elaborate on how he would do such a thing, but every man had his price and Auguste had found Damen’s.
“How can you possibly give that back to me?” Damen scoffed.
“Because,” Auguste’s voice was low and dangerous, “there is someone in my company who is in league with your brother to undermine you and your father…I have proof enough to discredit Kastor.”
“Give me a moment.” Damen said, feeling electrocuted as he sat back down.
He had to consider; his men would keep the secret but if Kastor found out he were taking side jobs then any consideration for the reinstatement in the upper echelon in his company would be tossed out the window and he would not have job unless his father regained his health. There was also the suspicion of Auguste. Was Auguste working together with Kastor to displace him? And without knowing the particulars, who knew if he could be roped into something illicit and be framed later on? Could he trust this man, a man he did not consider a friend, to keep his word? There were so many possible outcomes that could end poorly for him but…
It was Auguste’s expression that arrested him.
He was known for being beguiling, never letting anyone know his true thoughts on matters of business. But for this meeting there was a distinct edge to him. He looked like a man desperate, like if Damen refused he would have no other option to fall back upon.
It was a personal and desperate matter and Damen was curious and empathetic. And he was also tired of doing these menial guard jobs; he wanted something exciting and challenging and more suitable for his experience.
After only a few moments of deliberation, he took the briefcase onto his lap and all of the tension in Auguste dissipated. He sighed in relief before composing himself again.
“What the hell, I accept. But, if I find out you’re doing this on Kastor’s orders…I swear, I’ll make it my personal vendetta against you.”
Auguste looked surprised as he stood to shake Damen’s hand and seal the bargain. “I don’t know where you would have come up with such a plot. Of all your family members, your half brother is the one I find most distasteful.”
When the two of them emerged from the conference room, Nikandros and Pallas looked horrified when they recognized their guest. He smiled as he greeted them, though the smile was more out of delight at their horror more than happiness to see them. Without offering any explanation, he turned on his heel began to make his way to the parking garage.
“Damen, I’ll be waiting in the car. We’ll discuss the details on the way over. Gentlemen,” And then he was gone in a flash of blond hair.
Damen was absolutely mobbed as he retrieved his jacket and essentials bag from where he had placed them in his locker. The gold bars in the briefcase he would take with him and figure out what to do with them later. It was hard to think over the sound of his loyal friends protesting his decision.
“Why on earth is Auguste coming here?” Pallas was the least angry but the most shocked. “Surely he can’t have anything to do with us…”
Nikandros was distrustful. “Damen you cannot possibly think to trust this man. You know what a set of vipers he and his family are. He’s going to betray you, I can feel it. Your father would---.”
“My father,” Damen’s voice was a little flinty as his father was a touchy subject at the moment, “currently has no say in his own company. You all have been telling me I---we deserve better than what Kastor has saddled us with.”
“But with Auguste?” Lydos responded. “How can you be sure he won’t sell you out?”
“He won’t,” Damen shook his head, “He’s desperate and he needs help, even though he hides the need very well. It’s done. I’m going to do it and see what happens. Perhaps fate, even delivered by viper, can be fortuitous for me…”
The men became somewhat sobered when they realized his mind was made up, but Nikandros had one last inquiry. “What is it exactly that he’s asking you to do?”
Damen shouldered his heavy pack. Inside was everything he could possibly need for a mission: gloves, a satellite phone, a GPS tracker, mace, a bulletproof vest, and a number of standard issue weapons that someone in administration had forgotten to confiscate from him upon his demotion.
“I have no idea honestly. All I know is that it’s a month-long guarding contract so you can rest easy at night knowing I won’t be running drugs or murdering the populace. I swear, I will be fine. If this goes well…” He shook his head, leaving the words unspoken but they all knew what he was going to say.
Maybe if he did this job well, he would be restored back to favor.
Nikandros nodded though the others did not look convinced. “If you’ve made up your mind, I won’t try to stop you. But let us know if you need help. We’ll be your eyes and ears and cover for you here.”
Damen clapped him on the shoulder. “God willing, I’ll get us out of this basement.”
There was a luxury sedan parked and running on the first level of the parking garage and a man in a suit was waiting patient and stone-faced against the passenger door. Silently, he opened the back door at Damen’s approach and Damen slid into the back seat next to Auguste. Auguste did not even look up at Damen’s entrance but kept his eyes on the open manila folder on his lap.
“Thank you, Jord,” Auguste said absentmindedly flipping through a few documents in the huge stack, “If you’ll take us to the north side.”
The car moved swift and silent out of the parking garage.
“Jord is your bodyguard?” Damen inquired lightly when no one else seemed inclined to make conversation. He was pleased that the car had dark-tinted windows to keep out the glare of the half-risen yellow sun.
“My assistant.” Auguste replied curtly, once again without looking up from his papers. “You’re wondering why I don’t hire a guard from my own faction. It is because…I don't trust anyone around me right now.” Without touching or even looking at Damen, Auguste dropped the thick folder on Damen’s lap and began to explain the issue that had been bothering him so much that he was forced to turn to the son of his father’s enemy.
“You’ll find all the information you need in that folder; it’s the police dossier from one of my informants in the station. There’s someone in my father’s company who has been stalking and assaulting young men. That is why I cannot hire a guard from my own company, because even Jord up there could potentially be the one…” Though Auguste smiled as if he did not believe Jord was actually the one responsible. “So since you have not had any contact with my family or company in years I can safely assume you are not my suspect.”
“I had no idea you were in training to become an amateur detective.” Damen said sarcastically as he inspected the novel-thick folder.
Auguste finally leveled him with a glare. “I have no choice. This predator is now stalking my younger brother and I intend to keep him safe until I discover who is behind these attacks.”
Now Damen had his answer as to whom he was guarding. He vaguely remembered Auguste having a younger brother---five years younger than the both of them, to be exact---but he had barely spent any time with the child when he and Auguste could play together. He couldn’t even remember the kid’s name. All he could remember was a shock of hair, more white than blond.
“So I am to guard your brother then?”
“At all hours.”
“Is…he aware of this fact?” Damen asked with all delicacy. If he were anything like Auguste, then Damen assumed the younger brother would be none too pleased to have him around at all hours. Sure enough, Auguste’s expression took on a shadow of discomfort.
“No…actually. I had brought it up to him in the past but he seemed…slightly opposed.” ‘Liar’, Damen thought, “Even so, he will have to get used to this arrangement for his own sake.” Auguste had a fierce set to his jaw that hinted he and his younger brother had engaged in an icy stalemate over the matter. He was beginning to dread having to deal with someone so stubborn.
“I only hope he doesn’t try to constantly escape from me…” He did not like the idea of playing hide and seek with a brat.
Auguste pointedly looked out the window, giving Damen a view of what was---sadly---a fine profile; it was a shame he was so handsome but so poisonous. “I think…he is nervous, though he will not admit it out loud…even to me. You shouldn’t worry about him running away.”
Damen decided to look at the dossier when he had more time to study it thoroughly.
“Don’t worry about trying to figure out who is behind this.” Auguste noted that he had not begun reading. “I’ll handle that. But just read the files to make sure whoever is behind this can’t get within ten feet of my brother.”
Auguste filled him in on a few more particulars, gave him a key to his brother’s apartment, and then inquired as to what was in Damen’s black duffel bag.
Damen smiled, filled with vindication. “You have your secrets; this one is mine.”
Auguste shrugged.
Workers were just now beginning to populate the streets---the newspaper deliveries, the baristas for coffee shops, and the early morning commuters---as Jord pulled off the exit into the north side of the city near campus. He parked next to the curb of an attractive brownstone building on one of the quieter streets.
Damen thought that this building was certainly a far cry from normal student housing, but Auguste’s brother definitely had the funds to pay rent on such a fancy place even though he was still a college student.
His trained eyes noted that there was a buzzer and a passcode on the door for added security, but the fire escape was in pristine condition and connected to every single floor. Also the main method of moving up or down floors was a vintage, mirrored elevator. He grimaced; he would need to do a full canvas of the building to assess weak points and entrance points. It would have to wait till later, as he did not trust his evaluations on so little sleep.
Auguste neatly typed in the four-number PIN and seemed surprised as Damen balked at getting in the elevator.
“Do you have claustrophobia?” He asked, his mouth twisting into what was about to be a mocking smile. It untwisted when Damen made his own counterpoint.
“Best hope no one on your brother’s floor wants to shoot us. There’s nowhere to hide here.”
Of course Auguste’s brother lived in one of two apartments on the top floor, but it was a small blessing in that it would be harder to reach from the fire escape. Auguste knocked lightly before allowing Damen to slide the key in and unlock the door.
It was very modern and industrial inside the apartment, what with its’ high ceilings, polished wood floors, exposed brick walls, and minimalist décor. In fact, if not for a very few personal touches, such as the open laptop on the table and the stack of school books on the kitchen counter, Damen would have thought it was a showroom for an apartment. Everything from the blanket over the couch to the glass bowl of fruit looked staged and everything was impeccably clean.
Damen dropped his bag on the table, grinning as some papers fluttered to the floor, ruining the sterility of it all. Auguste simply pulled up a chair and waited.
It didn’t take long for the brother to appear.
Damen heard him first, the step light as if he walked on his toes, and when he rounded the corner Damen felt as though all the air had left the room. Though he was jaded about some aspects of humanity and kept a hard rule about his work---one rule being he did not date clients---he could not change his own nature.
And he felt attraction quick and easy, which was the feeling he was having now.
The young man in front of him was probably about twenty and he was the most gorgeous human Damen had ever had the privilege to lay eyes on.
Like his brother, he had fair coloring and longer hair but his hair only fell a little past his chin and it was nearly white-blond silk, a color Damen didn’t see much of past childhood. His eyes were deep blue, ringed by thick blond lashes and his face had a sort of delicacy to it, so that he almost appeared androgynous. His limbs were long without being ungainly, his skin was so fine and pale Damen could see the webs of pale blue veins pumping beneath the ivory. He wore only a white pajama shirt that hung loose and baggy to his knees and strangely had no creases or wrinkles.
If his friends back at the company could have seen this kid, they would have teased Damen endlessly because they knew his type. And this young man, Auguste’s younger brother, was as if all of his dreams had coalesced into one person’s appearance.
Like he was under a curse, Damen could not bear to look away from the beauty in front of him.
He pulled up short, heels squeaking against the wood floors, as he caught sight of Damen. For a moment, he looked poised to run, his weight lifting to the balls of his feet, a pulse clearly visible in his long neck. But then he composed himself and a look of beautiful contempt saturated his fine face.
“Brother…Auguste…what is all this?”
Auguste only spared him a glance and then appeared to be very interested in the cuticles of his right hand. “Good morning sunshine. Damen,” Auguste seemed not to have noticed that Damen was frozen in awe, “this is my brother, Laurent.” His name sounded like a song.
“Laurent, this is Damianos.” Laurent must have recognized the name because a look of absolute horror dawned on his pretty face. “He’s your new bodyguard.”