Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 61 - Smiles

The day of the charity gala was upon them. He and Damien had been told to arrive at the bakery at six in the morning to prepare everything they'd need for that night. As early as it was, the sun had already risen, the last remnants of the burnt-orange sunrise fading from the sky as Lucas began his walk. He took the weather as a good omen, the warm breeze of his face a sign that today would go smoothly. It at least helped settle his worries that somehow their catering would poison the poor people who were trying to support an animal rescue shelter. It was outlandish, true, but anything was possible.

Predictably, Damien was almost late, walking in the door as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Judging by his crumpled shirt and the tousled mess of dark curls, that wasn't too far from the truth. Lisa's worry had cooled into a razor-sharp focus, and neither Lucas nor Damien questioned her when she set them to work. There was something peaceful about how methodical it was: filling the eclairs, one after the other, scraping chocolate to garnish caramel tarts, piping swirls of meringue and browning them with the blowtorch (the blowtorch which, despite his begging, Lisa wouldn't allow Damien to touch).

Every so often, when Lisa turned away, Damien would lean down to kiss the top of Lucas' head, and then straighten back up as quickly as he could to avoid suspicion. Such a stupid game, but it made Lucas smile anyway, even as he batted Damien away so he could finish the last batch of chocolate curls.

"Stop it." Lucas laughed, trying to keep his hand steady as he ran the knife across the chocolate's smooth surface, watching it peel away into a perfect little roll. "I need to concentrate." It wasn't really a complaint. In all honesty, he wanted Damien to keep going. They hadn't had any time alone, and it was starting to get to him.

"Stop what?" Damien asked, doe-eyed and innocent, turning back to where he was arranging coffee beans on the tiramisu eclairs. "I'm just doing my job."

"You know what."

"Do I? Maybe you're imagining things."

"That doesn't sound like work, you two." Lisa called from the second bench, where she was whipping the last batch of ganache.

"Yeah, Lucas. Get back to work." Damien said, hands splayed on the cool metal surface of their work station as he turned away to hide his grin from Lisa.

"You think you're so funny."

"I don't think it, I know it."

"Am I hearing working?" Lisa interrupted again, her tone sterner this time, and the pair of them quickly bent their heads to their benches.

Lucas resumed his task with greater focus, frowning as he tried to keep the chocolate as smooth as he possibly could. Damien mimed wiping a tear from his eye, but his fear of Lisa silenced any other response. There was something nice about working comfortably in silence, about glancing up and catching Damien pulling an exaggeratedly bored expression, or miming stabbing one of the eclairs (or his own heart) with his knife. At which Lucas would slap his hand out of the way in alarm, which only made Damien grin, and point it towards Lucas as if preparing for a duel. When they were finally freed, Lisa deeming their work "acceptable", Damien let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God. Please, Lisa, never make us work like that again. I can't do this 'vow of silence' shit."

Lisa dusted her hands on her apron, a wry smile tugging at her usually stern mouth. "Really? I thought it was the nicest work day I've had since I hired you. But thank you both. I know I've been a little...on edge, these past few weeks, but this is my first professional catering job. I'm hoping to get more clients through this, maybe expand the business..." She reached up to smooth the edges of her bun, traces of flour she hadn't quite managed to wipe away turning her black hair slightly grey.