129- I’m a firefighter, I run into burning buildings to save complete strangers, imagine what I would do for you.
DAMIEN
We end up in the bathroom connected to the locker room, both of us dragging ourselves in like survivors of some ridiculous battle. The place smells like bleach, soap, and desperation. We’re both trying to scrub the glitter and sludge off ourselves, but it’s a losing fight. No matter how hard I scrub, I’m still sticky. Still sparkling. Somehow, there’s glitter in my ears. Under my fingernails. Probably in my lungs at this point. I don’t even want to think about the other places it’s managed to wedge itself into. I splash another handful of water onto my chest and grit my teeth. The soap isn’t helping. If anything, it feels like it’s activating the glitter, making it more determined to cling. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Eli shifting closer to me. Too close. It starts small, a brush of his arm against mine as we jostle for space around the sinks. Then a shoulder bump. Then his hip knocks lightly into mine. At first, I assume it’s an accident. The bathroom’s small, and we’re both tired, clumsy, miserable. But it KEEPS happening. Every few seconds, another bump. Another brush. Skin against skin. I try to ignore it. Try to focus on what I’ve internally dubbed ‘the mission.’ Get clean enough to survive the night, finish my shift, go home, and burn every cursed scrap of clothing that still smells like bubblegum hell. But it’s getting harder. Harder to focus. Harder to breathe normally. Harder to pretend I’m not noticing everything about him. At first, I thought it was just me being pathetic. That I’m exhausted. Too wired. Too aware of the fact that Eli is now also shirtless, dripping wet, sparkling faintly like some ridiculous, maddening creature out of a fever dream. But no. It’s not just me. It’s HIM. I can feel it. He’s doing something. Every time he touches me, there’s a rush of heat under my skin. A slow, low thrum that hums in the space between us. Thick. Heavy. Electric. It’s subtle, but it’s constant, like being caught under a too-warm sun that you can’t escape. I’ve felt it before too. A few times. Little flickers when he hugged me. When he grabbed my hand during a case. But it was never like this. Never so strong it made my brain short circuit. It’s been getting stronger lately. Just like the itching from the damn goo, except worse because this isn’t just uncomfortable. It’s dangerous. It’s there constantly, like a steady drip of poison, wearing down my defenses, sharpening my awareness of every inch of him. And the worst part? He’s not even being careful. I know Eli is usually cautious about his magic. Rina mentioned it once, how he avoids casual contact with some people because of it. His magic draws people in. Sparks lust. Desire. Usually he tries not to do it on purpose to people who would be particularly unwelcoming of it. But right now? Right now it’s like he doesn’t care. Like he’s just... Brushing against me without a second thought. Grabbing me. Nudging me. Acting like we’re normal. Like he’s not messing me up every time he touches me. And it pisses me off. Because it wasn’t like this before. It wasn’t a problem before. What changed?
Eli brushes against me again, a casual touch at my hip, and that slow, burning pulse hits me full force. My hands tighten on the edge of the sink. For a second, I see red. That’s it.
“Damn it, would you stop that?” I snap, sharper than I mean to. Eli freezes mid motion, soap dripping from his hands.
“What?” He says blankly, like he has no idea what he’s doing. I turn toward him, still breathing a little harder than I should be from something as stupid as washing up. My chest tightens, heat simmering under my skin.
“Would you STOP brushing against me every two seconds like you’re trying to start a fire?” I bite out.
“I might not know much about magic, but I know enough to tell when someone’s trying to manipulate me with it.” I accuse angrily. Eli stares at me for a long beat. Then slowly, his eyes widen. A flash of realisation crosses his face. And he smiles.
“Wait. You feel it? My magic, I mean.” He blurts out, his voice cracking slightly. I glare. Hard.
“Obviously. It’s seriously irritating. You and that damn lust magic you’re leaking all over the place because you apparently have the concept of personal space of a hyperactive cat!” I snap again. Normally, I wouldn’t make this big a deal out of it. I’d be patient. I’d maybe ask him politely for a little space. But tonight? After the cursed coffee machine, the glitter storm, the itching, the exhaustion, the lack of caffeine? I’m done. Eli looks absolutely gobsmacked, which, quite frankly, is stupid, because it’s HIS magic. He’s the one doing it. He has no right to look surprised.
“I can’t believe it.” He breathes out. Then grins, bright and wicked.
“You’re attracted to me.” He declares. He doesn’t even sound guilty. The asshole sounds gleeful. I roll my eyes and do my best not to blush, but I can feel heat crawling up my neck. Fantastic. My ears are probably glowing.
“Obviously. You’re an incubus. That’s what your magic does. You use it on me all the time. I asked a few questions before agreeing to hang out with you, you know.” I grumble. What does he want from me, compliments? Ego boosts? He already practically has his own fan club at the bar. He doesn’t need it from me. We’re supposed to be friends. I’m not one of his adoring followers. I know EXACTLY how much of a disaster he is, how chaotic, how reckless, how infuriatingly him. There’s no coming back from seeing someone like that, not with rose-colored glasses, not with illusions. He can't possibly think I'm stupid enough to be fooled by some magical nonsense.
“No, no.” Eli says quickly, shaking his head, his grin fading into something almost earnest.
“I mean, you’re attracted to me. Without the magic. You have to be. Even my magic can’t make something from nothing.” He explains. He’s still grinning like he just won the lottery. I stare at him, momentarily speechless.
“So what?” I snap defensively.
“Is that a problem? I’m attracted to plenty of people.” I justify. Eli just shakes his head, his grin softening into something more real. He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it again. It’s like he’s struggling to find the right words. Finally, he answers, voice lighter but still sincere.
“It’s not a problem. It’s the best news I’ve heard all week.” He responds. I frown.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I demand. Eli sighs dramatically, like I’m the slowest person alive.
“Damien, isn’t it obvious?” He says softly, almost laughing. We stare at each other and I’m suddenly VERY aware of how close we’re standing, of the glitter clinging to our skin, how we’re both breathing hard, dripping wet. Is Eli… Like… Into me? That concept might take some time to process.
“I... Don’t know how to respond to that.” I say awkwardly, scrubbing a hand through my still glittery hair. Eli just shrugs, casual as anything.
“That’s alright. I can wait. I’m just excited. This is progress.” He says with clear enthusiasm.
Progress… I stare at him, trying to piece together how we got here so fast. One minute we were drowning in purple sludge, and now he’s talking about progress.
“...Wait for... What exactly?” I ask slowly, not entirely sure I want the answer. Eli raises an eyebrow at me.
“You want me to spell it out?”
“Not really, but I think for clarity’s sake, you might have to.” I mutter. Eli shifts a little, suddenly looking... Uncomfortable. It’s weird. He’s always so confident. Loud. Effortless. Seeing him hesitate? It’s almost validating. It’s only fair that if I have to feel like my skin’s on inside out, he should too. He glances at me, almost like he’s bracing for impact, and says slowly,
“Okay, well, in that case… I like you. In the romantic, sexual, and whatever-other-way-you-think-matters way. Not just the friendship way.” He clarifies. Then he lets out a breath, his voice softer now.
"So when I say I’m willing to wait... I guess I mean for whatever you’re willing to give."