Don't Tell My Brother

Chapter 9 - Business Opportunities

Damien yawned very pointedly.

Lucas frowned. "It's interesting. Anyway, it's important. It's sort of a pulling and stretching motion, you press it down and push."

Lucas demonstrated, having to get up onto his toes a little in order to bear all his weight down on the dough. Lisa had assured him that after enough kneading he would have the strongest arms around, but he had yet to see the results. Damien, on the other hand, would have no trouble. He was wearing a T-shirt, and even though he wasn't flexing, Lucas could make out the lines of muscle.

"You'd actually be pretty good at it, because your arms are so..."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Looking at my arms, are you?"

Lucas stiffened. "No, wait. I didn't mean it like that." He said, exasperated. It'd been a perfectly normal comment, but of course Damien would use it to terrorise him.

"Really?" Damien looked like he was having a little too much fun with this. "Do you have a thing for my arms, Lucas?"

Lucas groaned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Deep breaths. "I don't 'have a thing' for any part of you, I just meant because you play a lot of football, your arms are obviously strong. Muscular. You know what I mean. So you'd be able to knead bread. Don't make it weird."

"I don't know." Damien said, leaning on the bench, towards Lucas. "Seems like you spend a lot of time thinking about my arms."

Lucas looked scandalised. "I do not. Your arms are only strong because you've got to carry around that massive ego. Now knead." His tone left no room for argument.

Damien's first attempt was passable. It was definitely less effort for him than it was for Lucas, but his movements were a little awkward, leaning too heavily on his fingers.

"No, stop." Lucas said, after watching for a few moments. "Look, you've got to use the heel of your hand."

"Heel of my hand?" Damien looked slightly confused.

"You know, the...look." Lucas reached over, placing his hands over one of Damien's and tilting it back, until the heel of his hand was pressing into the dough.

"Touchy, touchy." Damien commented, eyes flicking from their joined hands up to Lucas. He was smirking, because of course he was.

Lucas recoiled as if he'd been burnt. "Shut up." He snapped. He couldn't say he was enjoying Damien's new line of irritating remarks. He just wanted a peaceful work day, but apparently that was too much to ask. "Knead the bread."

"One sec." Damien said, still looking far too pleased with himself. "You've got something on your face. Right..." He turned to face Lucas and leaned closer, closer, way too close, hand reaching up to wipe a streak of flour from Lucas' cheek, in a position mirroring the night before. Lucas' heart stuttered in his chest. Damien's thumb brushed his face, hand almost cupping his jaw.

"Lucas." He said, voice strangely low.

But thankfully, this time Lucas didn't freeze. His fight or flight reaching kicked in, and in a moment of panic, he jerked back, shoving Damien in the chest.

"Not funny!" Lucas said, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at Damien. His heartbeat was still slightly too fast, and he was fuming. Damien, on the other hand, was bent double and howling with laughter.

"The look on your face!" He said in between gasping for air, clutching the side of the bench for support.

Lucas rubbed angrily at his cheek, as if he could scrub the ghost of Damien's touch from his skin. He was about to say something, probably about Damien being an asshole, when his eyes alighted on the floured bench beside him, and he had a better idea. Scooping up a handful of flour he turned to Damien and flung it at him, watching with a small amount of satisfaction as his dark curls were dusted grey. It was a little childish, but he'd have to sink to Damien's level.

But Damien, with years of football experience, was quick. In a flash he'd snatched his own hand of flour and reached over the wipe it across Lucas' face. Now it was war. He took a handful of flour directly from the open container and threw it right in Damien's face.

The look of shock on Damien's face was something Lucas thought he'd treasure forever. Finally, he'd scraped a win. Without even thinking about it, he found himself grinning.

"You little-" Lucas would never find out what that last word was, because at that very moment, Lisa walked into the kitchen.

Damien and Lucas both had half the tin of flour across their faces and clothes, as well as floury footprints tracking their small battle across the usually pristine kitchen floor. Everything was still, Lisa staring at them with blank shock, Lucas looking a little terrified.

"What do you think you're doing?" She said, her voice soft and steady. Dangerously calm. Lucas would've preferred her to yell. "I sent you back here to work. Why did I do that?"

Lucas and Damien exchanged glances. "...because you're busy?"

"Exactly." Lisa said, her tone still far too calm. "I am stressed out of my mind, we have a charity event in weeks, and I thought I could count on your help. Lucas, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were better than this."

Lucas really wished she'd yelled. She just sounded tired, which made him feel far worse. "Sorry, Lisa." He said, and Damien echoed him a moment later.

Lisa's face softened a little. "I know. Don't let it happen again, okay?"

Lucas and Damien nodded in unison. As soon as Lisa had left the kitchen, Damien let out an audible sigh of relief. "Phew. Mom would've killed me if I'd made Lisa really mad."

Lucas turned back to the dough, motioning Damien over. They needed to get back to work. He didn't want to see that look on Lisa's face again. Much to his relief, Damien didn't try any of his stupid tricks for the rest of the shift.