Chapter Text
Damiano had been awake for a while, but the hotel bed was warm, and cosy, and he had no desire to move. He had disabled his wake up alarm before it even went off, knowing he would not fall back asleep. He would just quietly enjoy this moment. With a sigh, he checked his phone. If he wanted to shower, he had to get up.
Damiano very gently tilted his body away from the hand resting on his hip. Mleym mleym, Thomas mumbled in his sleep. Damiano smiled to himself, shifting further away from the warm body behind him. The hand fell onto the mattress. He rolled himself off the bed.
He really didn’t need to be this careful, there was no chance he’d properly wake Thomas unless he really tried his best - and either way, Thomas needed to be packed and downstairs at the same time as he did. Damiano really should be waking him up. But there was no point unless he could put some effort behind it.
As expected, when Damiano got out of the shower the man-shaped lump of duvet had not moved.
“Thomas,” he hummed.
A soft groan.
As he was pulling clean underwear from his already mostly packed suitcase, he found Thomas’ eyes on him, blinking at him sleepily from below a bunch of tousled hair half hidden between the pillow and the duvet.
“Rise and shine, beauty. The taxi will be waiting for us in…” Damiano checked. “Half an hour.”
“Can’t hear you,” Thomas protested as he rolled over and buried his head deeper into the pillow.
The small tuft of Thomas’s hair that was still visible looked like a small, angry animal. Damiano bit his lip to keep himself from chuckling. “Do you need help packing your suitcase?”
“I need you to tell management this traveling schedule is inhumane,” came the offended mumble.
“Tell them yourself.”
“Yeah but they listen to you.”
“I doubt it.”
He was still smiling as he got dressed, putting on something comfortable - loose pants, a shirt, a gray hoodie. He didn’t mind travel days. He would just switch himself off and get lost in his own head a while. And unlike Thomas, he had gone to bed at a reasonable hour after last night’s gig. Even when he stayed in, Thomas had a tendency to stay up till the early morning, fucking around on his phone and listening to music on his headphones while Damiano slept next to him. Damiano had given up arguing with him about this. To each their own. Thomas would sleep again on the plane.
No movement from the bed as he zipped up his suitcase. “Thomas.” He climbed onto the bed. “Time to wake up.”
Another groan, then Thomas rolled back over to face him. “Don’t make me.”
They looked at each other quietly for a few moments, faces inches away from each other. Then Damiano grabbed the corner of the duvet and rolled away from Thomas, taking the duvet with him, laughing as the other man cursed at him, diving after him, grabbing at the remnants of his warm nest. “You bully,” Thomas uttered in a tone so desperate it made Damiano laugh even harder. He got up and dropped the duvet on the floor.
Thomas was sitting upright on the bed looking a miserable kind of offended.
Damiano smiled at him fondly. “Pack your shit, rockstar. See you downstairs. I’ll grab some breakfast for you.”
He wheeled his suitcase out of the room, knowing Thomas would follow soon enough.
—
“So, update me.”
“About what.” Thomas had a hunch where this was going and he already didn’t like it.
“How’s the sex?”
Thomas rolled his eyes at Ethan. “People can be affectionate without having sex, you know.”
There was true confusion on Ethan’s face. “You’re not sleeping together? But-”
“Yes, I’m aware I’ve been sleeping in his bed for three weeks. You don’t need to point it out. Just shut up.”
So what if this topic hit a nerve.
If the situation had been any different he would’ve loved Ethan’s interest. He looked down at his feet.
An air of puzzlement still hung about Ethan. “Sorry I mentioned it.”
They were quiet then, watching the other travelers file past in the busy airport. In the shop across from where they were standing, Victoria and Damiano were busy trying on sunglasses.
With a sigh, Thomas leaned towards Ethan and mumbled, “I don’t know how we’d get there? It seems like we flirt all day and then when we’re in bed, we’re in bed. Nothing happens.”
A smile played on Ethan’s lips. “You are both waiting for the other to make the first move? That’s funny. Like two blushing virgins.”
Thomas rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, whatever. We can’t all be as direct as you.”
They watched Victoria drawing Damiano into her selfie, both of them adorned with a pair of flashy sunglasses.
Thomas put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder and leaned his cheek on it, his eyes on the pair in the shop. “I’m just not sure he really wants to? He gives off a lot of confusing signals,” he said quietly. “And I don’t want to ruin it, if this is just a… just an affectionate thing for him. You know he doesn't like sleeping alone. And he says my presence has been helping him sleep better.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s time I finally come to terms with the fact he really is just straight. And that I'm hopeless.”
“Mmmm,” Ethan hummed with a little frown.
“I love being so close to him, so much,” Thomas said wistfully.
“I know.” Ethan’s voice was soft now, kind. He considered a few moments. “Let me help.”
Thomas leaned back just to make sure Ethan saw his wary look. “How?”
“I could ask him what he wants.”
“No.”
“In a subtle way. I can be subtle.”
Thomas’ doubt at this statement shone bright and clear on his face.
Ethan nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Eth, don’t do it.”
“No, trust me. I’ve got you.”
Thomas knew this was going to be a disaster. But if things got awkward he could always laugh it off. He was good at that.
Truth was, for his own sanity, he needed something to happen.
—
Combined effort had made them succeed in drawing Damiano out to the bar where Victoria was to DJ later. She was bouncing around chatting with a friend of a friend of a girl she’d slept with who got her this gig, or something - Ethan hadn’t quite followed the story, but Victoria was bright and happy and it was infectious.
Yes, they would all come along and watch her shine. In Thomas’ case, he would even dance. Who knew, maybe Damiano too.
And Ethan would watch out for an opportunity to find out what was going on on Damiano’s side of this not-yet-love-story between him and Thomas. How Damiano was apparently too reserved to make a move on a person that he was obviously very into - and who was obviously very into him - was truly bewildering.
He got his chance not much later, when Damiano offered to get drinks for everyone, and Ethan followed him over to the bar.
“Damià.” Damiano glanced over at him, and Ethan leaned in to make himself heard over the music. “Question. Are you and Thomas a thing?”
Damiano gave him a surprised look. “What?” He looked away, trying to get the attention of the bartender, then glanced back at him again. “What kind of question is that?”
Ethan leaned back against the bar. “What I am asking is, is he fair game? Can I make a move on him tonight?”
Damiano’s head snapped over to him. “Wait, what?” He opened his mouth as if to say something else but appeared to have momentarily forgotten how to speak. He hesitated, shook his head, finally uttered, “What the fuck.”
Ethan shrugged. “Is that a yes or a no.”
“How desperate are you exactly? Thomas isn’t into men.”
It was Ethan’s turn to blink in confusion and find himself momentarily without words. Damiano didn’t really believe that. Did he?
Finally, he slowly said, “Strange. He didn’t mention that last time he had his mouth on my cock.”
“What? No.” Damiano took a step back, stared at him with a suspicious kind of bewilderment. Then stepped closer again so Ethan could hear him. “No, that’s bullshit. That didn’t happen. You’re fucking with me. Is this some sort of bet?”
Ethan nearly pitied him. He didn’t answer, just looked back at his friend silently.
He could see the realisation dawn on Damiano’s face.
Before either of them could speak, they were interrupted by the bartender. Ethan crossed his arms and averted his eyes, leaning against the bar, listening to Damiano struggle through their order. His English seemed to have abruptly deserted him.
When Damiano finally turned back to him, the look on his face was almost helpless.
Ethan put a hand on his shoulder and bent close. “Gotcha. He’s all yours.” He straightened up. “I’ll help you carry the drinks.”
—
“Where did Damiano go?” Thomas yelled to Ethan over the music.
Damiano had been eyeing him strangely the whole night, not in his usual “Thomas is dancing and this is kind of adorable” sort of way, but more thoughtfully, looking away whenever Thomas caught him staring. He didn’t look like he was really enjoying himself. When Thomas asked him about it he just shrugged and smiled and pushed him back onto the dance floor.
Now, as Victoria had finished her set, Damiano was nowhere to be seen.
Ethan pointed to the exit in answer and lifted his fingers to his lips, mimicking taking a drag of a cigarette.
Right. Thomas would go join him then, he could use a smoke.
As he set his first step towards the door, he hesitated and turned back to Ethan. “Did you talk to him?”
He wasn’t sure the other man had understood the question over the music. Ethan just smiled. Gave him a little nudge.
All right then.
He found Damiano outside, around the corner, leaning back against the wall, hidden within his hoodie, sucking on a cigarette as if his life depended on it.
“Hey,” Thomas said. “Gimme one?”
Quiet, dark eyes looked back at him.
This was weird.
Damiano reached out a hand, motioned for him to come nearer. Thomas stepped closer. The hand gently grabbed his shirt. Tugged. Tugged even more. Thomas stopped when their bodies were almost touching.
Damiano dropped his cigarette, looked up at him.
A heartbeat, then Damiano leaned in.
Damiano’s lips pressed softly, sweetly against his own. Hands came up to frame Thomas’ face, thumbs running lightly over his cheeks.
Was this real?
Thomas’ knees felt weak. In none of his fantasies he had imagined that Damiano would be so impossibly tender.
He leaned into Damiano with a soft sigh, his hands settling on the other man’s waist. He heard an echo of his own sigh as Damiano’s hands moved to his hair and he parted his lips, and as they kissed slowly the taste of him - smoke and beer and Damiano - was almost euphoric.
Damiano broke their kiss, but only to pull Thomas even closer and move his lips to Thomas’ neck with a sigh.
“Mmmm,” Thomas hummed softly, shivers spreading over his body.
Damiano’s hands slid down over his chest, then his arms settled around Thomas’ waist, pulling their bodies together tighter with his face still hidden in Thomas’ neck. Thomas bit his lip. Heat was pooling between his legs in an embarrassingly optimistic way.
But if he wasn’t mistaken, he could feel something equally optimistic between Damiano’s legs.
This was really happening.
He leaned back to look at Damiano. There was something in the way the other man gazed back at him, something soft, something hopeful.
Maybe the two of them really were just romantic fools, Thomas thought as he kissed Damiano again, sweetly, trying to put all his love and assurance into the kiss.
As they made their way to the cab a while later, Damiano’s arm hooked around his neck, Thomas sent a grateful glance Ethan’s way.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
—
Thomas leaned into Damiano’s embrace as the elevator took the four of them up to their hotel room floor. Damiano, apparently, had no qualms about their bandmates knowing exactly what they were going to get up to. It was as if he was getting more and more certain about just what he wanted the more often their lips touched. And Damiano would not stop kissing him.
Thomas was both feeling breathlessly in love, and uncomfortably hard in his jeans.
“Oohhh Ethan,” Victoria cooed in a mock-turned-on voice. Thomas glanced over, meeting her amused eyes as she drew Ethan into an embrace, her leg coming up along his thigh as she arched against him. “Please, I can’t wait any longer!”
She stuck out her tongue at them.
Ethan snickered.
Thomas blushed.
Damiano rolled his eyes at her. The elevator doors opened. He tugged on Thomas’ shirt. “Let’s go.”
~*~*~
2017
Damiano twirled around in a circle as the other man gestured at him. He was wearing a mesh top and leather hotpants so tight that he wasn’t sure his balls would survive the ordeal. A small price to pay.
Your band mates play their part, Manuel had told him earlier, but you’re the star. Come with me.
Now, alone in Manuel’s dressing room, the older man looked pleased. Damiano grinned, a bit breathless.
He felt powerful. Sexy.
“And then the boots with it. Yes. That will definitely work.”
“Yes,” Damiano agreed.
Those boots. They were amazing. If he would manage to get them on.
Manuel leaned back in his chair, gazing at him. “Damiano. If you wear this on stage, everyone is going to lust over you. Young, old - male, female. Can you handle that?”
Damiano lifted his chin. “We’ll get more attention. The more attention the more chance we’ll win, right? I can handle it.”
It was all a game. A game that Damiano found he really liked playing.
Manuel smiled at him. Only when he got up did Damiano notice the large bulge in the other man’s dark jeans.
Oh.
It was too late to attempt to hide his surprise. His cheeks suddenly felt very hot.
Manuel sent him an amused, searching look. “I wasn’t joking.”
“I’m glad you weren’t.”
Manuel’s gaze grew more intense.
It had been a feeble attempt at a joke, not really what Damiano had meant to say at all, not the way it came out, but he took the effect it had on the other man in stride.
This was the type of power he had over other people. He even made Manuel Agnelli want him.
He could handle that.
~*~*~
Damiano could feel the quick, fluttering thumps of the heartbeat under his hand. His fingers played with the small tuft of hair surrounding Thomas’ nipple. “Good?” he murmured.
A breathless nod, a whisper, a hand touching his cheek. “So good.”
Damiano leaned in and pressed his lips to Thomas’ chest again with a soft sigh.
He was relieved. So relieved, so happy.
This was okay. More than okay. He hadn’t even realized he’d been worried until he wasn’t anymore.
They were naked on the bed, Thomas on his back, Damiano pressed close into his side.
He had stroked Thomas to an easy orgasm, kissing his face, swallowing his moans, and the younger man had clung to Damiano and softly whimpered his name as he came.
It had been beautiful. Thomas was beautiful.
And, in a way that felt surprising and amazing and in some strange way inevitable - Thomas was also, undoubtedly, his.
Damiano sighed and kissed Thomas’ lips again, his face.
“Your turn?” Thomas’ hand tangled in Damiano’s hair as he drew him close for another open-mouthed, breathless kiss.
He was also desperately hard now.
“Please,” he mumbled over Thomas’ lips. Damiano rolled onto his back, pulled Thomas half on top of him, fingers grasping at Thomas’ lanky body as he arched up.
Feeling Thomas’ confident hand on him felt like coming home. Like something he didn’t realize he had been waiting for.
Afterwards, he gazed up at Thomas, and Thomas gazed back at him, almost in wonder, almost as if he was about to ask something. Damiano spoke first, interrupting Thomas before a word had left his mouth. “Maybe you should tell management to cancel your hotel room for the rest of the tour.” He sent Thomas a sweet grin.
Thomas chuckled and kissed him fondly. “Brilliant idea.”
—
When Thomas woke, he was alone in the bed. He could hear the shower run. Dammit, he had missed Damiano again. He’d been hoping to start the day with kisses, to give Damiano the best blowjob he’d had in his life, to convince him to text the others they would be late today because they needed time, skin on skin, to solidify these new developments now that they’d finally found their way here.
He sighed. One night of kisses and a hand job and I’m a lovesick kid again.
Thomas prepared his most pleading come back to bed face for when Damiano appeared from the bathroom, but once Damiano finally stepped out his gaze seemed to barely brush over Thomas at all before focusing on his suitcase, picking out clothes.
Thomas swallowed, an icy feeling spreading through his chest, squeezing at his lungs. What was happening?
“Damià?” he tried.
Damiano looked over at him and gave him a smile. “Oh hey. You’re awake.”
“Yeah.” A heartbeat, collecting courage. “Come back to bed?”
“I decided to hit the hotel gym before breakfast. I’ve been slacking off lately.”
“Oh.” Thomas swallowed again, his mouth dry.
Damiano sighed, walked over to Thomas’ side of the bed and sat down. “I was just going to give you some extra sleep. I know you need it.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Thomas said softly.
There was something about Damiano’s eyes. Something tired.
“Did you not sleep well?”
Damiano averted his gaze. “Oh. Yeah. No. Stressful dreams. We… we needed to get the airport but there was no taxi and we forgot an interview and somehow it was all my fault…” He shrugged, looked back over at Thomas. “You know how I get.”
“Yeah.”
An uncomfortable silence hung between them.
“I’ll see you later then?” Damiano leaned down, brushed his lips over Thomas’ forehead. “Get some sleep.”
Thomas watched him go, feeling frozen in place.
So that was it then. Damiano did not want him. And it appeared he was going to pretend the night before had never even happened.
—
Ethan hadn’t had a chance to talk to Thomas in private yet. But something more must’ve happened than what Thomas’ quiet mood this day had suggested. Damiano was always on fire when he was on stage, but tonight was something else. The looks he was giving Thomas as he rode up against his microphone were already making Ethan regret his choice of uncomfortably tight leather pants, and by the time Damiano emptied a beer can down his throat, foam gushing from his mouth down his bare chest, Ethan had trouble keeping his mind from imagining how thoroughly Thomas was going to get laid tonight.
He couldn’t even imagine what this was doing to Thomas.
“Santo Dio,” Victoria mouthed to Ethan with a baffled expression on her face.
Ethan gave her an amused shrug in return. Good for them.
—
“Where’s Damiano?” Thomas asked. They were backstage, tired but satisfied after the show, trying to get rehydrated. Ethan was stuffing the last slice of bad pizza into his mouth.
Thomas had been surprised, excited, hopeful, by how Damiano had been flirting with him. Maybe everything would be okay, maybe Damiano really had had a bad night and had felt hitting the gym would be the best way to dispel his demons. Maybe the lack of physical affection that morning had just been an oversight, since it was all so new, and they hadn’t talked about what this all meant and what they were now.
“Not sure,” Victoria replied. “I thought he’d have dragged you off somewhere by now. Did you have fun last night?”
“Yeah. Uh. Yeah,” Thomas smiled. Then his face fell again. “He’s a bit confusing if I’m honest. But we can talk about it tonight.”
“Talk, huh? Sure.” Ethan chuckled.
“After other stuff maybe.” Thomas admitted with an embarrassed little smile. “If I can find him, in any case.”
—
It had been an impulsive decision and probably not very nice to Thomas. But Damiano had felt a sudden need to get out. To set something right. To finally, really say goodbye to something.
There’s something I need to do tonight but I will be back, he had texted Thomas once he had found himself a cab.
What are you doing? When will you be back?
Unsure what to reply, Damiano left the text unanswered. He bit at his cuticles as he stared out the cab window.
Now he was seated in a corner of a bar a few streets away from the hotel, something dimly lit and shabby looking. The bartender had done a double take when he came up to order, and too late Damiano realized he should’ve at least done something about his stage makeup, which was probably halfway down his face too, but at Damiano’s expression the man held his tongue. All Damiano needed from him was beer and whiskey.
Jameson’s. Manuel’s favorite.
Damiano drew up the hood of his hoodie. This was a joyous occasion. Even if no one could know.
This was him, 24 years old, officially saying goodbye to old hurt. Something he should have done long ago.
So what if the person he loved was a man? Dicks weren’t the enemy. Least of all Thomas’ dick. He still owned the stage, owned the crowd, owned his body. Now fully re-owned his sexuality.
He held up his shot glass in a quiet toast. Will you celebrate with me, Manuel?
He knocked it back.
A buzzing feeling spread through his body as he sipped on his beer and hid deeper into his hoodie. It took the edge of the strange sense of restless anxiety that had come over him the moment he’d stepped off stage.
He took his phone and unlocked it, stared briefly at two missed calls and several increasingly exasperated texts Victoria had sent him. Yeah, he knew he shouldn’t have disappeared like this. He’d deal with that later. His thumb tapped on the contacts search bar. Manuel.
Maybe he should text him. Call him. Hey motherfucker, you didn’t ruin me.
Damiano gazed at the last text Manuel had sent him.
Congratulations on the new album. It’s very sexy, very you. See you at the wedding.
He had never sent a reply.
Damiano locked his phone and put it away. He walked up to the bar and ordered another shot.
This wasn’t a night to hold back.
No bad dreams would haunt him tonight.
—
When Damiano staggered into his hotel room, he found it was dark inside. After a few tries, he found the light switch.
“Thomas,” he mumbled, staring at the empty bed.
He would go find Thomas in his own hotel room. The door of his room clicked shut behind him as he gazed up and down the corridor.
He had no idea which room was Thomas'.
He fumbled with his phone, dropped it, nearly landed on his ass when he picked it up again. He steadied himself. His thumb went to the call button. His heart skipped a beat and he staggered again when he realized he was not paying attention and he’d almost called Manuel. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Thomas,” he whispered to himself, finding the right contact. He called.
“Damià.”
“Thomas,” Damiano breathed. “You’re not here. Are you in your room? Or… are you out? I’m back at the… the hotel now.” He wasn’t sure if this had come out as intelligibly as he wanted.
A surprised silence on the other side. “Are you drunk?”
As Damiano tried to figure out how to answer that - there was no need for Thomas to know that he was, in all honesty, maybe a little drunk, drunker than he had foreseen - Thomas spoke up again.
“I’m in Ethan’s room. 607.”
Ethan’s room? Oh no. “What. What are you doing in…” Thomas wouldn’t. Would he?
“From your room it’s just at the end of the corridor, to your left.”
Left. Which way was left? Damiano stumbled past the doors, glancing at the blurry room numbers.
If Thomas had had sex with Ethan, he would cry. Maybe he would cry anyway. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so awful. So hopeless.
He halted, and the door in front of him opened. Thomas’ sweet face, turning from guarded to worried in an instant. “Damià - Jesus. Hey.”
And as he was pulled gently inside, two more concerned faces stared at him. Oh fuck, they were all here. Damiano clung to Thomas tightly and closed his eyes, finding the world spinning about him.
—
Thomas held on tightly to a swaying Damiano, exchanging confused glances with Ethan, who was standing beside the bed, hesitating, and Victoria, who was seated against the headboard and had crossed her arms.
Damiano was drunk? And not just a little. And he looked like he was about to cry.
“Damià, where were you?” Victoria asked. “We were worried about you.”
Only Victoria could make worry sound so accusatory.
The past two hours had given Thomas plenty of time to explain to Victoria and Ethan what had happened the night before, and this morning. Plenty of time for them to communally frown over Damiano’s cryptic text after his sudden, uncharacteristic disappearance.
Ethan had suggested in a hopeful manner that Damiano was buying Thomas a gift to make up for being weird.
This late at night? Victoria had interjected incredulously. No, he’s off doing something stupid. I just can’t fathom what.
But Thomas had another suspicion.
“Damiano?” he asked quietly, squeezing the man in his arms a little to hopefully get his attention. “Did you get drunk because you don’t really want to be with me, and you don’t know how to tell me?”
Damiano drew back, wavered. Thomas grabbed his arm to keep him steady. Two desolate, unfocused eyes settled on his face.
Thomas held his breath waiting for the answer.
Damiano opened his mouth. “...I’m going to throw up.”
A distressed sound from the bed, and hasty scrambling. “Oh GOD. No, no, no. Fuck. You asshole.”
Ethan jumped forward and helped Thomas steer Damiano towards the bathroom while Victoria fled the room in a panic.
—
Everything went by in a haze for a while. When he came back to the present, his ass was seated on a cold floor. There was the smell of puke, the taste of whiskey and stomach acid in his mouth, the sound of the toilet water tank refilling hissing in his ears. A cool cloth touched his face, wiping his mouth, and a moment later, after some rustling, his eyes - keep your eyes closed, I’m taking off your makeup - and Damiano’s hands tried to find warm skin, something comforting, familiar.
“Thomas,” he said, trying to focus on speaking clearly. This was important. “I love you. I got drunk… to tell you I love you.”
Thomas looked so sad. So beautiful. Those eyes.
Kiss me?
He wasn’t sure if he’d said it out loud.
Thomas answered quietly, “Okay. I love you too, Damià. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”