Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

ACT I: Love Languages

In the first 30 or so years of his life, there had only been a handful of times where Damien had felt himself standing on unsteady ground, discombobulated by his life or the external factors that had altered it, mainly he’d experienced the shift from changes in his career, obtaining a role for the Disney show, So Random, showbiz promising that he was on the precipice of exploding onto the scene; still, even though that hadn't happened, he could hardly lament the loss of his show when it had introduced him to his best friend, Shayne Topp. He briefly felt the uncertainty again when he left his monotonous and mundane job in retail to risk it for a precarious position as talent on the YouTube channel, Smosh, at his best friend’s suggestion. Even if Damien felt as though he cruised through the instability of establishing new ground in that prospect, he taught himself to stop fearing that threat of change, as it had only enriched his life in the past. And yet, he went on for several years, without a single doubt that he was exactly where he was meant to be. Still, he began to slowly develop a gnawing feeling in his gut, he ached for some uncertainty again to save him from falling into the trap of complacency, because deep down he understood that he needed to experience a shift, to keep him on the right path.

Unfortunately, he wasn't lucky enough to see that the uncertainty would be awakened within a familiar dynamic, a comfort he hadn't even noticed that he had begun to rely on. One of the best parts of working at Smosh was meeting new people and discovering friendships that came together with effortless ease. More often than not, it was natural to click with new cast members; still, it wasn't too surprising when it took a little extra time to really determine and begin speaking a new language to understand the eccentricities of others.

Initially, Angela Giarratana was a frustrating anomaly to him. She was brash, loud, and often thoughtless with her words, very quickly capable of throwing him into sensory overload, entirely unaware of her ability to discombobulate and baffle others, especially Damien. Still, it was impossible to hold any of it against her once he got to know her better. Angela was incredibly talented, insanely hilarious, undeniably kind and undoubtedly loyal; she had an astounding aptitude for capturing the attention of the entire room, a beaming smile that exuded warmth and a sparkle in her soft brown eyes that radiated the depth of her unstoppable spirit.

It didn't take him long, no more than a month or so, to realize that he envied her. She possessed a strong sense of self that left her without a fragment of a filter, making her unable to act like anyone other than her authentic self. They'd had a rocky start of understanding one another, but Damien had never been more determined to solve another person, so he listened and watched, paying attention to the way her voice would raise and pitch when speaking about one of her passions, or the way her expression would furrow beyond recognition when conveying her disgust towards something. Angela was a person made up of absolutes and extremes, never someone to fade into the background.

When she’d talk about her past and her family, he could see it peeking behind her eyes, a desire to be heard, a deeply entrenched need to prove herself, whether it meant offering a helping hand to a friend in need or jumping to fill in a vacancy for a video she wasn't scheduled to be in, like a searching soul desperate to demonstrate her worth. She was generous in both her spirit and sense of professionalism. Each time there was a lore drop of her past; he'd intently listen and categorize it as one more intricately curved piece of the puzzle that made her up. What he didn't expect was to find himself further enthralled in such an examination. Her reckless and rowdy behavior would typically denote a sense of childishness and immaturity, yet despite possessing such characteristics in great abundance, they held no weight to the whole of her personality beyond anything more than delightful quirks that amused everyone surrounding her. Because at her core, Angela was a truly dedicated caretaker; whether she was fostering nearly a dozen dogs throughout the stretch of the pandemic, or when she watched over and embraced the routines of her autistic uncle. Initially, he teased her for her penchant of dog fostering during the largest global human crisis, but then again, he'd been in character.

In truth, he felt awed by her. She was the hardest worker he'd ever met, and yet, that never seemed to be enough for her; she had to do more, give more, help in any way she was capable. Angela was the kind of person that Damien felt incredibly grateful to know and fortunate enough to call a friend. Still, the more he got to know her, the less he understood her. Angela was incredible and unstoppable; she was fiercely competitive and the sorest loser he'd ever known. She was frustrating, infuriating and indescribably inspiring.

Angela was a playful, pocket-sized gremlin with a personality that entered the room before she did. She taught Damien how to take things less seriously. Being around Angela was like breathing in fresh air after spending countless hours in a stale and cramped space. Without meaning to, without even realizing she had, Angela had completely revitalized his joy for the job. She could roast a person to absolute filth, but she never shied away from reciprocation; in fact, she loved it when others verbally sparred with her. It was something they shared in common, often shrinking under sincere compliments, only to rejoice in taunts and teases. Damien felt infinitely freer the moment she joined the cast. He no longer had that debilitating fear of being misunderstood. If anything, he'd only felt more inclined to push the envelope, as there were few things in life that gave him as much elation and satisfaction as getting her to erupt into laughter. Angela's confident cackle encapsulated her perfectly; loud, somewhat disconcerting, and bubbling over and bursting with the purest expression of joy. Words weren't enough to describe the woman in her entirety, and in truth, that was what filled him with uncertainty. Angela was a person of abundance while being incapable of definition or summarization.

Damien was determined to leave it at that, realizing that it would be an endless task to fully understand her, and examine further, fearing just how much stronger he would feel pulled to her. And he would’ve stopped, until it suddenly dawned on him, that after a little over a year as colleagues and friends, the gnawing feeling had returned, and this time, it wasn’t about him or his career, but Angela, and the fluttering nerves he began to identify every time he saw their names listed together on the call-sheet. Damien loved his job and his friends; so, somedays, he’d look at the call sheet and laugh at the casting, wondering how the dynamics would fare in the competitive structure of whatever game they were playing. This was not the same feeling.

Angela’s presence brought forth a child-like excitement that instantly brightened the prospect of his day. Even when she’d irritated him, it was hard to feel anything but joy in her presence, a deep warm feeling that made him flushed and practically giddy. It took him a while to acknowledge the sensation, silently fearful of what he might discover upon additional inspection. But it was becoming impossible to ignore his obvious affection when he’d gone two weeks without seeing her and realized he’d found a reason to mention her every single day of that absence. He’d try to justify that it was because of her penchant for being the busiest of bees, several of her projects displayed in her IG stories. It wasn’t weird to miss a friend, or to stifle the feeling by checking their social media updates and watching any uploads they were in.

So, he had a small crush. It wasn’t some massive deal; he was a grown adult in his 30s, and he wasn’t about to lose his sense over butterflies for the prospect of the impossible. He cared too much for his friendship with her to risk it. Besides, neglected feelings were doomed to wither if never nurtured, and he had no sustenance to stand on. It was that simple notion that encouraged him to bury the crush, waiting for the feelings to be smothered into silence as he prioritized the growth of their friendship. It was a talent crush, an infatuation over her effortless charisma and indisputable skill.

It had been fairly easy to stick to his resolve, minus the few times he strayed from the course to avoid obstacles, a forgotten Christmas connection, proclaiming she knew his sex catchphrase, insisting it would be completely in character for Todd to flirt with the Bit City host (all the while Damien smirking every time he was rewarded with a blush). Then, of course there was the issue of training his eyes out of staring at her. That was the hardest part; Angela’s presence demanded undivided attention. Even so, he couldn’t train or trust what lingered in his gaze if he looked at her, so he tried to refrain as much as he was capable of, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. Luckily, Smosh was a surprisingly professional place, so he could never delude his mind into thinking they were anything more than work-friends, and he didn’t doubt that he probably wouldn’t make her top ten of the office. He wasn’t necessarily jealous of the top contenders; he didn’t want their friendship with her, Damien wanted his friendship with Angela, but with more … frequency. Something similar to her brunches with Chanse, or her shopping trips with Amanda, something like that or whatever their equivalent could be. He just wanted more. Regardless, he was grateful for the relationship they did have; he never wanted to become jealous or selfish when it came to Angela.

Damien wished he was fortunate enough to have coincidence and fate on his side for just once, to have life flow in total agreement with his resolve; but, alas, no dice.

He’d finally begun to reach a blissful state of ignorance when the feathery butterflies abruptly soured into something akin to surviving a state of constant heartburn the weekend before Thanksgiving. Gen-Con had been severely delayed this year, so the 2 ½ day convention started on the same day as Smosh’s Thanksgiving break, also Damien’s birthday. Even though break was given to the entirety of the cast and crew, an offer had been extended to Gen-Con’s usual suspects. Damien didn’t hesitate to accept, sincerely enjoying the prospect, getting paid to go to a convention for his birthday for three days of holiday rate. It was a paid vacation, and all they had to do was film a few promotional TikToks for specific booths, no massive production necessary. His optimism felt undeniably naïve as he noticed who else was waiting outside of Smosh HQ at 10:00 in the morning.

“Angela?” He sputtered in surprise as he noticed her sipping coffee from a paper cup, standing small in an oversized white knit-sweater, making Spencer and Shayne look large by comparison, on either side of her. She looked flushed and adorable when she shrunk under the cold of a brisk autumnal breeze. “What’s the nerd-basher doing going to Gen-Con, instead of going on vacation?”

She furrowed her brows, but the glimmering levity never left her ember eyes. “Hey, this is a vacation, and a paid one at that. Also, I’ve officially abandoned my nerd-bashing ways after outing myself as a Shakespearean-”

“Fanatic?” Spencer offered in a chuckle, and she hesitated to side-eye him before looking back at Damien.

“Academic.” She said before interrupted, admonishing Spencer in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, she studied at Oxford.” Shayne scoffed before laughing. “Nerd.”

Angela rolled her eyes with a smirk. “I’m self-aware enough to allow it. Besides, after I taunted you guys before, I said I’d come to witness you in your natural courting habitat.” She teased. “Shayne, is of course, excluded.”

He nodded. “Can’t get laid…down for a nap without my wife.”

Angela and Damien rolled their eyes in unison at the Borat impression.

“Please,” Spencer scoffed. “Nobody’s getting laid down for nothing. Did you guys see the room arrangements?” He gestured to Damien, Shayne and himself. “What’s up, roomies?” Damien snorted, knowing full well that it made absolutely no difference either way; none of them had ever hooked up at Gen-Con. Spencer was too… “They could only budget out for two rooms, and legally, Angela has to be offered her own…you know, on account of woke.” Well, Spencer was too Spencer. Shayne had been in a committed relationship with Court for years and even before then, he was too shy a guy to have a one-night-stand while at a convention with colleagues. That left Damien, but he’d never been a fan of hookups, comfortably growing into his identity as a demisexual. Sure, he was a sex-positive guy, but ‘meaningless’ hookups, were just that, to him. If it held no meaning, no feelings involved, he had no desire, which suited him just fine. His libido tended to have no choice but be on its best behavior, it never got him into trouble by seeking out complicated situations for a short-lived thrill.

“Speak for yourself.” Angela teased. “I’m a free woman with a room to herself.”

Damien pensively bit his lip to distract him from the pain in his gut. Spencer jumped to join in on the ‘joke’, raising his hand for a high-five. “Dude, you’re going to score so much pussy.”

Angela reciprocated the gesture, adding a little shrug. “If that’s what the occasion calls for. Depends on my mood.” She joked and Shayne booed her. “I’m kidding…obviously. This may be a vacation, but first and foremost, it’s a work-trip. Best behavior. I promise.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “I have a sneaking suspicion we’ll have to assign Angela a chaperone within a day.” He shared a glare with Shayne, and within a split second, they were both smacking their own faces, shouting. “No’s goes.”

Damien didn’t have a chance to react before Angela groaned. “Shut up; you guys are the worst. I’m an adult and I do not need a chaperone. No offense, Damien.”

“None taken; I don’t even know what just happened.”

“You lost.” Shayne laughed, patting his back as the airport shuttle pulled into the parking lot.

They all grabbed their luggage and filed in, taking two rows at the far back. About ten minutes into their ride, Angela gently nudged his elbow. “What’s up?” Damien asked, offering the briefest amount of eye contact that could still pass as polite.

She responded in a soft whisper. “You don’t mind working overtime and traveling on back-to-back flights?”

He shrugged. “I mean, it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but I don’t mind the pay, and I love Gen-Con.”

Angela shrugged back. “Sure, but today? Wouldn’t you rather have plans, go out and celebrate? You’re not one of those people who hates their birthday, are you?” Her big brown eyes looked up at him like maple melancholy, not quite full of pity, but soft sympathy. “I mean, Shayne didn’t even say anything.”

Damien couldn’t help but look back at her in surprise, moved to learn that she knew. He gave her a small smile and shook his head. “That’s because he texted me first thing this morning. He’s come to understand that I don’t like to make a big deal about it.”

Angela nudged him again, this time an easy playfulness in her expression. “Define big.”

Damien shrugged. “I don’t mind celebrating, but I kind of hate when it’s a massive party with everyone’s attention trained on me, opening presents, eating cake. Nothing makes me internally cringe more than having dozens of people looking at me when they serenade me with Happy Birthday, while I just stand there, looking like an idiot.”

Angela nodded, laughing gently, not her usual uproarious cackle, but a melodic chuckle of understanding. “I get that. There’s something so uncomfortable about receiving undivided attention while you’re supposed to do nothing. I never know what to do with my hands.”

Damien smirked. “Yeah, it’s a bit of an ‘oof’ moment.”

She rolled her eyes before grinning. “Well, all the same; happy birthday, Damien.”

“Thanks, Ang. I appreciate it.”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing to Damien. It meant more than he could say that she cared enough about him to remember. They stayed relatively quiet the rest of the drive to the airport, his eyes peeking back at her every few minutes, smiling to see how she sipped her coffee, her sleeves extending half-way down her hands. Damien didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until they were up in the air. Shayne quietly read beside him, while Angela and Spencer seemed to be chatting a few rows ahead of them. Still, Damien fell asleep within ten minutes as he usually did when flying. He didn’t hate flying, nor did he love it, but there was something undeniably comforting about being suspended in time and space, nothing expected of him. It was peaceful, and one of the few times in which his chronic insomnia seemed to have no effect.

Unfortunately, they’d been unable to book a direct flight, especially with the upcoming holiday, which meant what could’ve been achieved in one 4-hr flight, would instead take two 3-hr flights. Even if they were lucky enough to have rooms at the convention’s hotel, they wouldn’t arrive until nearly 9:00 at night. At least, he wouldn’t be expected to film TikToks or peruse the convention hall tonight. So, he could focus on spending his birthday trying to relax and hoping to crash.

His estimations weren’t far off as they checked into the hotel at half-past 8:00. Damien was instantly disappointed to see that the guys’ room only had two beds. Shayne, ever the accommodating king, didn’t waste a second to immediately proclaim that he would order up a cot for himself. Damien felt bad, but didn’t argue, reasoning that at the very least, he wanted to sleep in a bed for his birthday. He doubted his back could handle a cot after all the flying they’d done that day. Besides, it was no secret that Shayne was in much better shape and could withstand the discomfort with more ease than Damien could.

Spencer dropped his luggage on one of the beds. “So, Angela asked that we visit her room so we can plan and map out tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.” Shayne said with an easy nod. “I’ll probably hit the gym after.”

Spencer snorted. “Dude, that’s crazy. I, for one, don’t intend to waste the night. I’m going to hit the floor tonight and do some personal perusing.”

Damien sighed. “I’d rather not get into unpacking just yet, should we head to hers now?”

Spencer briefly paused. “Let me text her and make sure she’s ready for us.”

Damien shared a look of confusion with Shayne before shrugging. “I’m going to hit the bathroom first.”

When he reentered the room a few minutes later, the other men were expectantly looking at him. “Angela just texted. You ready?” Shayne asked.

Damien nodded. “Let’s go.”

Angela’s room was a couple of floors up, giving the guys a chance to talk about what they were most anticipating this weekend; Damien nodded along, a bit too tired to join in with the same level of enthusiasm. Still, he did his best to mask his weariness as they knocked on her door.

Angela opened the door with that infectious grin and something mischievous lurking in her eyes. “Perfect timing; I’ve just finished setting up.”

“Setting up what?” Damien inquired with a lifted brow. He barely noticed Shayne and Spencer looking over at him as she opened the door all the way to admit their entrance.

“Ta-Dah!” There was a small birthday banner crookedly taped to her wall and a charcuterie board made up on the small table and a 4-pack of cupcakes.

Damien froze unable to even process his gratefulness as shock took over. “What? What is happening?”

Angela ushered them in before shutting the door. “No big deal, that’s what happening.”

Damien suddenly remembered his other friends watching him. “Did you guys know about this?”

“Duh.” Spencer scoffed. “Angela sucks at keeping secrets.”

“Do not!”

“It was her idea.” Shayne offered with his easy-going smile. “She told us right before you showed up this morning.”

Damien could no longer hold back his grin as he looked over the set up beyond the meat, cheese, cracker and fruit charcuterie board. Two bottles of Martinelli Apple Cider, solo cups, birthday paper plates and napkins, and a small candle pierced into one of the cupcakes. He was at a complete loss for words. It was the most thoughtful, Angela-esque gesture. He was so touched, not just by the celebration, but the realization that he’d been moved to think she’d merely remembered. “Oh my God, Ahngula, this is incredible. How did you have a chance to do this?”

She gave him a playful smirk and a small shrug. “Don’t doubt me, Haas. I’ve got connections.”

Spencer rolled his eyes before snagging one of the three chairs. “By that, she means that she opened up her DoorDash app the second our last flight touched down.”

Angela shoved his chair as he sat down. “Shut up, Spence. Don’t shatter the illusion; I’m magical and mysterious.” Damien knowingly smirked. She undoubtedly was, no illusions necessary. Angela shook her head, gesturing towards Damien and Shayne. “Come on, guys. Sit down.” She offered them the two remaining chairs, taking a cross-legged seat on the ottoman between them. She was pouring cider by the time they were all seated.

Damien was the last to take his cup, pausing as Angela handed it to him. “Seriously, Ang. Thank you so much for this. I don’t even know what to say.”

Her cheeks were flushed from her beaming grin, though she rolled her eyes. “That’s more than enough. I can’t allow you to make a big deal of this, or then, you won’t have any fun.” She nudged him. Damien bit his lip with a smirk, trying to refocus as she acknowledged the other men. “Please, dig in.”

As the guys began to serve themselves and chewed into cheeses, crackers, fruit and meat, Angela effortlessly entertained them, detailing a weird dream she’d had on their first flight. Weird was describing it gently. She recounted seeing Spork as some type of human hybrid – in the horrific style of Cats – who was her son graduating from high school. Damien became lost in her story, quickly forgetting the food in front of him as he smiled so wide and laughed so hard his cheeks hurt. He didn’t mean to, but once Angela became defensive, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, even harder. “No! Shut up! You don’t get it. My dogboy was looking at me with his milky-ass eyes, his tongue lolling-out of his mouth, his paw wrapped around a diploma, and he smiled at me and said, ‘I did it, Mama!’”

Shayne lost it. “Jesus Christ; that sounds like an absolute nightmare!”

“Shut up! No, it doesn’t. It was so sweet. He smiled.” Her voice cracked. “I did it, Mama!”

Now, they all lost it. After a moment, Angela joined in on the laughter. “No, you guys; I legitimately woke up crying.”

“She absolutely did.” Spencer confirmed. “It was hilarious.”

“Whatever.” She sighed. “Sorry, that my pet is my baby.”

Damien nudged her, doing his best to bite back his urge to grin. His cheeks were already aching, so it wasn’t all that hard. “I totally get it, Ang. I’m the same way with my cats, but if they came to me in a dream with that ‘uncanny valley’ visual, I would be horrified.”

“At least, your cats are cute.” Shayne cut in. “I’m sorry, Angela, but it’s no secret that Spork’s … not the cutest.”

“Stop coddling her. He’s fucked up looking, and we all know that.” Spencer shrugged as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “That’s literally his charm. Honestly, his face has more personality than a few people I know.” Angela seemed to soften as she nodded with a smirk, until Spencer continued. “He’s a literal feral gremlin; you know, like mother, like son.”

“Goddamn!” Shayne erupted into laughter as Angela’s eyes narrowed on Spencer, the humor in them not wavering in the slightest.

“If anything, that just proves Angela to be the best of us. It takes a huge heart to love a little guy like Spork as much as she does.” Damien defended in a half-tease.

She nodded with her head held high. “Here, here!” She lifted her cup. “To my huge heart.”

Only Damien joined in, ignoring his sore cheeks as he grinned. “To the best of us.” He turned his eyes on the men, a bit sharper as he reminded. “And our generous host.”

Shayne and Spencer nodded and followed suit. “To Angela.”

She immediately blushed when they all sincerely joined in. “No, no. I was kidding.” She shook her hands at them, causing everyone to laugh. “We should be toasting Damien.”

“Too late.” Damien gulped at his cider before smirking at her.

She narrowed her eyes on him. “That’s okay. It’s time for the birthday boy to blow out his candle.”

Damien’s eyes widened in instant despair as she lit the candle with a small lighter. She cleared her throat and hummed, winking at him before breaking out into laughter. “Could you imagine?” She nudged him. “I’m just kidding. No singing.”

He sighed with immediate relief. “You totally had me going when you lit the candle.”

Angela shook her head. “Oh, no; that part you still have to do. I’m a firm believer that you never waste a birthday wish. But if you want, we can keep talking while you think of a good one.”

Damien gave her a small nod, and Spencer didn’t hesitate to start complaining about the room arrangement as he pointed to the two beds in front of them. Damien chuckled once Angela began defensively bickering back, looking down at his candle. He didn’t need to think up a wish, as the one he’d had this morning already seemed to be coming true. In the course of one day, he felt closer to her and more certain of their growing friendship than ever before. He closed his eyes and blew out the candle with a sore smile, an oversized heart and a fluttering stomach. He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his birthday.

Angela was erupting with applause and celebratory cheers before he even had a chance to open his eyes. “Happy Birthday, Dames!”

“Thanks, Ang.”

“Nuh-unh.” Spencer tsked. “You’re not changing the subject. It’s total bs that you have an extra bed, while one of us has to sleep in a cot.”

“That’s not my fault.” She argued.

Shayne snorted. “Why are you complaining, Spencer? It’s not going to be you.”

“Yeah; what do you expect from me? I’d offer it up to one of you, and I feel like I should get to pick. But that’s an impossible choice, as either way I answer will sound weird. I wish I had better options.” Oof.

Shayne nodded but Spencer shrugged. “Not really. I would just assume you’d pick the person you consider to be the least annoying.”

“Oh, then I choose Damien.” Angela answered without hesitation, and he nearly choked on a sip of cider. “Shayne being a super early-riser would bug the shit out of me, and I sincerely feel like Spencer would constantly be getting in my way.”

The latter snorted before biting into his cupcake. “Honestly, fair.”

“Spencer, drop it.” Damien cleared his throat of cupcake. “Angela’s entitled to her space. I promise no one will make you sleep on the cot. I’ll swap with Shayne tomorrow if he wants.”

“Wait, no. I feel bad. Someone should take the extra bed; it’s not like I’ll be using both.” She insisted.

Damien gently patted her hand before pulling his own away as quickly as could be registered as normal. “Ang, it’s fine. Now don’t go making a big deal, or I’ll stop having fun.” She softly smiled with a silent laugh. He gave her a small smirk and a little wink to add to his tease. Luckily, his attention couldn’t linger on her as his phone began vibrating in his pocket. He quickly fished it out. “Shit. Sorry, guys, I have to take this; it’s my manager.”

Angela instantly shot up to clear out of his path as she pointed him to the restroom, and he excused himself. He paced in the bathroom, near the sink, briefly wondering where the shower was, until he realized it was in its own little separate room as his manager called to check in, reminding him of his busy calendar after the holiday.

If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that Martinelli’s was alcoholic for how drunkenly happy he felt. This was the best birthday he’d ever had, and he was on the clock. He was getting paid to have an absolute blast, thought to be fair, that’s what it usually felt like working at Smosh, especially after the past few years, right after she’d started.

It felt like it took forever to finally get off the phone, but once he reentered the room, he wondered if it actually had been. The guys were gone, and Angela had finished cleaning up the table.

“Good news?” She asked with a smile at his entrance.

Damien shook his head as he put his phone back in his pocket. “Neutral non-news; honestly, it could’ve been an email.” She laughed. “Where’d the guys go?”

Angela refilled her glass. “Spencer said he wanted to go downstairs before people start closing down the booths, and Shayne said he wanted to call Court and hit the hotel gym.”

“Oh,” Damien failed to hide his disappointment, feeling like he was overstaying his welcome. Even so, he had to linger as he looked over the items she was putting into her mini fridge. There was no way it was cheap to DoorDash fancy meat, cheeses and fruits. The generosity of the gesture hit him all over again. “I really can’t believe you did all of this, Angela.”

She waved him off. “It was nothing.” She sighed as she rummaged through her suitcase.

“I’m serious; I know it’s not nothing. I can’t even begin to imagine the effort and expense you put into this. I won’t call it a big deal because I’ve been having a blast, but it means a lot, more than I can say, even if you did way too much.”

Angela’s hands froze in her suitcase, and she gave him a guilty grimace. “Are you saying it’s too much?”

“Why?” Damien eyed the suitcase, the cover concealing whatever she was fidgeting with.

“No reason.” She lied unconvincingly.

“Ahngula Giovann Giarratana.” He teasingly chided. “What’s in the suitcase?”

“Nothing.” She abruptly closed it. He lifted his brow in disbelief. “Your present.” She acquiesced in a pouted mumble.

There was no limit to the lengths she would go for friendship and no shortage of blessings that came with being someone she considered worthy of such a designation. She’d already given him the best present, it felt downright greedy to accept more, and yet… Damien was dying to know what kind of gift she would think to get for him. He laughed, and her expression perked up. “I won’t say it’s too much, because I’m way too curious to know what you got me.”

Angela was beaming from ear-to-ear, and it was actually excruciating how adorable she was. She cleared her throat. “Okay, wait. Brief preface.” He nodded. “It’s kind of Con related too, I guess.” He nodded again, wondering where she was going with this. “Well, remember when I said that being a DM is like super difficult, but you absolutely killed it for Sword AF-”

Damien smiled. “Thanks, but it doesn’t even feel like work with all of you guys.”

“Pshah.” She scoffed at him as she tossed a gift bag his way.

He barely caught it before giving her a playful glare as he started to pull out a black T-shirt. He unfolded it and paused, smiling as he looked it over. It was designed with a little cartoon sketch of him, with his old purple hairstyle, tossing a 20-sided die, the purple font beneath reading: ‘Hero At Work’.

Damien laughed and Angela quickly continued her explanation. “I worked with some people in the art department. They might be mulling over the idea of some more Sword AF merch, but not that design. That one’s just for you. Turn it over.” He did and laughed again. In the same font it read: ‘Sort Of Hero’

“I absolutely love it.” He sighed with an unwavering smile.

“You do?” She grinned.

“Yeah.” He sat down and she joined, taking the chair next to him. He cleared his throat. “Thank you; this is…” Damien lacked the words, so he steered the conversation. “So, merch, huh? What would the other characters say, I wonder?”

“Funny thing about that; I actually have a sample of the Bug one which of course says, “It’s crazy to see your heroes at work’.” Damien laughed again as he realized they had coordinating shirts that matched. Angela continued, undeterred. “It’s not official. First, they want to see if we have the demand to do it. So, I have to wear mine for the TikToks tomorrow, to see how many bites it gets. I already have a pitch for Delores.”

Damien smirked, folding up his shirt, carefully placing it on the chair beside him before setting his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand with a smirk at her. “Let’s hear it.”

“Thick thighs save lives.” She excitedly recited.

He laughed. “Okay, props. That’s a good one.

“Good one?” She scoffed. “It’s perfect. Fernie’s is a good one. I’m thinking ‘Thicker than wood’.”

Damien chuckled. “Not as great as thick thighs; you’re right, but still pretty good. What about Koda?”

Angela pursed her lips. “That’s hard; I mean the character is rich, so the materials are all there, but every time I think of something, it just ends up sounding more like Chanse than Koda.”

Damien shrugged, deciding to see if she was just politely keeping the conversation going because it was his birthday, so he gauged her response to his frankness. “Well, I don’t mind helping you brainstorm if you don’t mind my continued intrusion?”

Angela smirked and rolled her eyes. “You’re not intruding. You were invited. You’re literally the guest of honor; besides I’m too jetlagged for crowds, but not the least bit tired. I could really use the king of puns help.”

Suddenly, neither was he; he hadn’t been since Angela’s smiling face appeared behind her door. “King of puns; I’m honored. Good, because we can’t half-ass Koda’s since Chanse is a tough critic.”

“Ugh.” She groaned with a nod. “That’s why I left him for last. I’d rather do one for Rum-Pum or Tungo, than Koda.”

“Hey,” Damien teased in offense, thinking about the one character he immediately rerouted as a means to mentor Bug. He’d had no choice once he realized just what a phenomenal D&D player she was. “What about Gunthar?”

“Are you trying to make me cry again? I’m still sensitive after seeing my Sporky leave me for Julliard.”

Damien laughed. “Okay, okay, my bad. We’ll stick to the living characters, but first things first. What about Koda?” He went to sip from his cup, only realizing it was empty as Angela began pouring into it from the bottle, her big and beautiful eyes on him.

“I’m thinking we should incorporate the blade-song or something like that.” She put down the bottle. “Don’t you think?”

Damien talked a big game, but he was also struggling, imagining Chanse looking at him with that patented disappointment in his voice as he said his name, every time he thought he had a good one. As they stalled, they played around with mottos for even the most minor of characters, ones that wouldn’t even be featured in merch. They laughed as they teased one another’s lame pitches. Angela blamed her misses on being delirious from air travel. Damien could probably say the same, but he didn’t mind experiencing some delirium in her presence; honestly, at this point, it seemed par for the course.

“Okay.” Angela struggled to get the words out in between laughter. “Fine.” Another giggle. “How about-” She took a deep breath. “Bad Bitches Collect Blades, and it’s Koda looking mischievously as he tucks that living dagger in his cloak?”

“Oh, no; I see what you were saying. You’re doing it again.” Damien chuckled. “You’re pitching for Chanse’s motto.”

“Honestly, what’s the difference? If Chanse could use the blade-song, you know his extra ass absolutely would.” Damien could immediately picture it, and they both erupted into laughter.

After a minute, Damien sighed, realizing they must’ve been spit-balling for nearly an hour. Poor Angela; he was keeping her hostage in her own room. “Honestly, I think we have no choice but to concede. I doubt Chanse would ever approve of any of our pitches.”

“True.” She nodded. “No matter what, he would insist that his would be better; and honestly, after all of our failed attempts, I can’t help but agree with him.”

“Me, too.” He nodded before reluctantly standing into a stretch. “Well-”

“Hey,” Angela’s voice was insistent but soft. “You know, I was genuinely offering, right?”

Damien’s eyes shot down to her with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “No pressure if you want to room with the guys, but I have a spare, and I really don’t mind the company if it saves one of you old men from sleeping on a cot.”

“Okay, excuse you!” He playfully scolded. “Old? I’m like 3 years older than you ma’am.”

Angela expressively guffawed as she stood, and Damien tried not to think about just how close they suddenly were. “How dare you ma’am me! I am a youthful, young woman.”

Damien laughed. “You definitely act like it!”

She tsked. “No good deed goes unpunished.” Angela conjured a half-way decent Brando impersonation. “You come and mock me, on the day of your birthday, after I’ve offered you shelter and provided you with a kickass charcuterie kickback…”

Damien laughed. “Wouldn’t I be cramping your style, ‘free woman with her own room’ and all that?”

Angela shook her head. “Nah; honestly, I think I’ll hate having my own room. My favorite part about conventions is getting to chill and socialize with everyone. And I wasn’t just saying it to flatter you because it’s your birthday. You’d definitely be the least annoying roommate.”

“Gee, thanks.” He teased, despite how secretly flattered he truly was.

“I mean, I think it’d be fun. We never hangout besides at work, and though the guys were wrong about me needing a chaperone, this being my first time at Gen-Con, I could probably use an experienced guide.”

Damien usually struggled deciphering social cues, but all signs pointed to her being sincere. Well, if she enjoyed his company even half as much as he enjoyed hers, he wasn’t about to look a birthday wish in the mouth – or however, that saying went. He nodded. “Okay, buddy-system, it is.” He tried to sound nonchalant but was surprised by the relief he felt at his own words. Conventions could get crazy, and Angela had quite a few fans. It suddenly dawned on him how concerning the notion was to have her room two floors up, by herself, her first time at this convention.

“Safer that way.” She said with a nod, mirroring his own thoughts as she set her suitcase on the ground. Her next words seemed to contradict her actions as she sat cross-legged on the bed. “Forewarning, I’m still not tired, so if you’re done chatting and want to sleep, I can shut up, but I probably will be on my phone to entertain me. Don’t worry; I brought my wireless headphones.”

Damien shook his head. “I’m not tired, yet either.” It wasn’t a lie, more of a half-truth. His body was exhausted, but his mind was firing at all cylinders, grateful for the chance to keep the conversation going.

“Cool.” She laid down on her stomach, holding her head in her hands. “Top three best birthdays and bottom three.”

Damien slipped off his shoes and sat up on the bed opposite her. “Fine, I’ll go, but then it’s back to you. So, you better start thinking.”

“Please.” She arrogantly snorted. “I’ve got mine locked and loaded.”

“Then, you go, so I can have a chance to think of some good ones. I’m only doing two of the best, because this one obviously ranks.”

Angela gave him a sweet grin. “I’m honored and also a bit horrified if you consider this to be chart-topping.”

“Hey, don’t shit on the awesomeness of a kickass charcuterie kickback.” He teased and she smirked before he nudged her on. “I’m waiting.”

/

            Damien was definitely exhausted, but he did his best to hide his drooping eyes and stifle his yawns as Angela told him about her most recent Starkid production. Angela’s seemingly inexhaustible energy was something to behold. He both enjoyed and envied it. If he didn’t require sleep to survive, he was certain he could talk and listen to her all night long. Still, he didn’t seem to possess the desire to be the one to call it a night.

            He sighed as he leaned back against the headboard. “Damn, Ang. Seriously, how do you do it all? Most people would be reasonably burnt out by half of what you do, but you’re the busiest hard-worker I know.”

            “Thanks.” She bashfully smiled as she tucked some hair behind her ear. “It’s not like I have some great work ethic or anything; I’m just blessed to get to have fun with my friends for a living. How could I not be a workaholic?” He agreed with most of what she said beyond her comment about her work ethic. “I’m just restless when I don’t have a full schedule.”

            Damien shook his head in disagreement. “It’s not just work. You’re the first person to go out of your way for a friend; tonight, being a prime example.”

            She shrugged. “I like to show up whenever I can. Quality time means a lot to me.”

            “Clearly.” He smirked, recalling earlier in their discussion when she’d mentioned her co-stars debating the validity behind love languages. “If I had to weigh in from earlier, I’d wager your love languages are quality time and acts of service.”

            Angela shrugged. “They’re definitely the love languages I’m most inclined to give.”

            “What about the receiving end?” And why, exactly did he want to know? Was that too much? Even so, he couldn’t completely regret asking, curious to learn as much about Angela as he possibly could.

            Luckily, she didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the question, her lips pursed pensively as she seemed to consider her answer. “Honestly, I appreciate them all. Maybe not gift-giving quite as much, unless it’s a really thoughtful gift. I’d definitely say quality time is my top preference. Words of affirmation can be a bit tricky for me.”

“You don’t say?” Damien teased with a grin. “You’re usually so quick to accept a compliment.” The sarcasm soaked his voice with a sense of self-satisfaction.

Angela rolled her eyes before narrowing them at him. “Hey, I like compliments sometimes; I just have a hard time sincerely accepting when I have an audience.”

He acquiesced with a nod. “I get that.”

Angela shrugged. “I’m actually tragically a big fan of physical touch.”

He gently chuckled. “Tragic, how so?”

“Well, the lore, according to Amanda and Spencer is that I struggle with it and I’m bad at hugging.”

“That’s silly.” He scoffed. “If you like giving hugs, I’d argue you can’t be a bad hugger.”

“Thank you!” She laughed as her voice pitched in agreement. “I don’t know. I just need a certain level of comfort to ease myself into it.” Damien nodded in understanding. “That’s probably your least favorite, huh?”

He paused in surprise. “What makes you say that?”

Angela’s big brown eyes widened as though she didn’t expect him to argue against her assumption. She shrugged, her voice meek and uncertain. “I guess I just figured it might be challenging with your sensory issues.”

Damien nodded at her fair assumption. “Believe it or not, it’s actually near the top of my list.”

“Really?” She asked with a gentle smile.

Damien nodded again. “Yeah, I mean I’ll admit it can be unpleasant if I’m already overwhelmed, but there’s something comforting and grounding about it. I’m just not the biggest fan of unexpected touch; I can’t relax into it if I feel like it’s being forced on me, especially when it’s someone I’m not closed to or don’t trust.” He sighed. “I appreciate the easy intimacy that comes from physical touch, the context of innate trust it requires. It’s kind of a shame that there’s this societal assumption that physical touch always becomes burdened by sexual context, especially if it’s coming from men, though to be fair, I can’t help but understand why.”

Angela’s brows furrowed in the most adorable and animated way, as she sat up, leaning forward on her knees, her head resting in her hand. “I think I get what you mean, like craving platonic intimacy.”

Damien immediately nodded; grateful she understood. “Exactly. I mean, it can be a bit loaded to be a guy that appreciates connection and cuddling. In reality, it’s a significant part of human development, it literally produces happy chemicals in your brain.”

Angela nodded. “That’s science, bitch.” She joked with a smirk. “It’s like with words of affirmation, at my core, I enjoy it, but it can be difficult to just easily accept it.”

Damien laughed, offering her a crooked grin. “Affection can be hard to accept, in any form.” He patiently pieced together. “Ang, I think you’ve just summed up the human condition.” She gently nodded. “Well, at least we can partially blame our timidness on the pandemic. I know it made me realize all the small things I’d taken for granted, like hugs. When I had no social interaction, I’d randomly realize how rarely I hugged people as an adult, especially when I started living alone. I mean, I could literally go months without touching another human being. So, tragically,” Damien gave her a small grin, finally understanding what she’d meant at the start of this conversation. “I guess…you reach a point of being awkward and unsure whenever somebody initiates a hug, a handshake, a high-five.” He reasoned, his smile widening as he noticed her emphatic nodding.

“Exactly.” She agreed. “That’s what I meant.” She gestured to him. “But you’re great at quickly reciprocating high-fives.” She thought for a second. “And offering them too, now that I think about it.”

Mostly with her. “That’s because I have a little trauma in that regard.” He doubted Angela knew the extent of the lore of his high-fives going unnoticed by others, but she’d only ever missed one, due to extenuating circumstances. That’s why he usually saved them for her.

            Angela’s brows wrinkled above her baffled brown eyes, just a tinge of sincere concern peeking through. After a second, her expression softened. “You don’t have any hugging trauma, do you?”

            Damien laughed with a shake of his head. “Fortunately, no.”

            One of her eyes squinted so briefly he almost thought it was a wink. “Can I ask you a probing personal question?”

            “Shoot.” He said without hesitation, or a sense of self-preservation, he couldn’t refuse an answer to any question she asked.

            “How long has it been since you’ve been hugged?”

            Damien was suddenly embarrassed; not necessarily by the inquiry (though slightly by the implication), but mostly by his realization, that he had to think too far back to recall. He didn’t necessarily avoid touching his friends, but it usually consisted of a nudge, a high-five or a pat on the back. His hug stats made it seem like a special occasion, a true rarity.

            He suddenly remembered that she was watching him, patiently waiting for an answer. Meeting her eyes made him lose track of his mental calculations. “I can’t remember.”

            “But it’s your birthday!” She whined in impassioned protest. He shrugged. She huffed with irritation before smirking. “That’s it. Brace yourself. I’m coming in.”

            Damien didn’t have a second to even process her words when she was practically leaping out of her bed, before barreling into his arms in a bearhug. It knocked the air out of his lungs in surprise, but he couldn’t be bothered about being breathless when his fresh inhale was the scent of her floral shampoo. It was simultaneously refreshing and rich, like an orchid in perfect bloom after a gentle Spring shower. He forced himself to laugh, hoping she’d assume that was the cause for his hammering heart beneath her head. “Talk about unexpected touch.” He teased though his arms curved around her ever-so-slightly.

            “Hey; I said brace yourself.” She defended, practically nuzzling against him, causing her silky strands to tickle the thin skin of his throat. “Tap out if you need to, but I couldn’t let your birthday pass without a hug. I figured win-win.”

            Damien’s gut clenched as he risked peering down at her head. “Win-win, how?”

            Angela looked up at him with a – goddammitall – angelic smile and he felt like one of those dramatized cartoons when a character had been struck through the heart by Cupid’s arrow. Forget the electric realization that this was the closest he’d ever been to her, he couldn’t remember a single person he’d ever held like this before, like she sparked a circuit in his brain, and it deleted a specific folder of his memories. “Win for you – happy birthday chemicals.” She lifted a brow at her own clever wordplay. “And win for me – I get to practice and perfect my hugging skills.”

            Damien was a little disappointed, but he couldn’t swallow back a laugh. He was lucky she even wanted to in the first place, so why not enjoy it a bit. “Are you saying I’m your form of exposure therapy?”

            Angela offered him a hearty laugh as she turned her chin back down into nuzzling. “Honestly, in a manner of speaking, yes.”

            It was enough to get Damien to smile. “I might usually protest to being someone’s test-dummy, but I feel like I owe you a big hug after today.” It wasn’t the full reason, but it was absolutely the truth. Angela was beyond articulation and severely naïve if she expected him to be the one to tap out first. Her small and warm form held to him in a seamless fit. He gently rested his chin on her head. “I guess I’m just as guilty.” She hummed a wordless inquiry, and he continued. “Instead of spending a ton of money on a weighted blanket, or gathering seven blankets, one travel-sized Angela should suffice in a pinch.” He teased.

            Angela laughed and the sound pleasantly itched at something in his mind as it reverberated throughout his chest. “Shut up.” She sighed. “This is nice.” She paused. “You were right about the comfort of platonic intimacy.”

            Her words; still, Damien deceptively nodded. It wasn’t necessarily a lie to agree, more a half-truth. Though he’d recently come to realize that his feelings for Angela surpassed the position of being platonic, there wasn’t anything inherently romantic or sexual about the soothing sensation of being embraced by her. He was sure his heart was still pounding, but he felt suspended in a small sliver of serenity. For all he knew, he could still be thousands of feet in the air, because he certainly felt like he was dreaming. His movements were timid as he tightened his arms a little more, finally leaning in to actually hugging her back.

            She let out a soft hum in response, and Damien briefly felt baffled at the realization that the air would feel much too cold and his arms far too empty once she pulled away. Even if it was inevitable, he didn’t doubt he could stay like this for, well, maybe forever. “Amanda and Spencer are dead wrong. You give great hugs.”

            Angela shrugged in his arms. “Great isn’t perfect, but I’m getting there. Practice makes perfect.”

            Damien’s hands were itching, but he ignored the instinct to rub her back. There was only so much intimacy he could indulge in. The last thing he could stomach was risking all the growth tonight had brought their friendship by making her uncomfortable. Still, he was thankful that Angela was infinitely more impulsive than him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be getting bombarded with all the happy brain chemicals after the best birthday he could have ever imagined.

            “Hey,” He cleared his throat, but she didn’t react. He gave her the slightest of shakes.

            “Hmm?”

            Damien didn’t need to look down to know that she’d closed her eyes. He chuckled. “Do you think I can wear my shirt tomorrow too, even though it’s not a protype?”

            Angela gently nodded against his chest. “As long as you don’t mind matching me.”

            “Hmm.” He theatrically paused as if to consider the prospect. “Does yours also say ‘Sort of Heroes’ on the back?” She nodded again. “Good. I’ll match in solidarity.”

            “You’re not teasing, right?” Angela let out a yawn, a cute, whispered squeak that morphed into a little grumble. “You actually like your present, don’t you?”

            Damien smirked at the palpable pout in her mumbled voice. “I love it, Ang.” He gave her a gentle squeeze in confirmation.

            “Good.” She sighed.

            “Ang, you’re going to fall asleep.” He warned, unable to shake off his grin.

            “Am not.” She huffed. “You’re way more tired than I am. Tap out if you can’t handle it.”

            He chuckled. “Since when did this become an endurance competition?” Silence. “Ang? Angela?” His soft calls were only met with the sound of her gentle breaths. All timidness forgotten, Damien playfully ruffled her soft hair.

            She didn’t move, but she grumbled. “Tap out or let me pass out. I’m comfy.”

            He quietly laughed. “Me too.” He chose to yield to the peaceful feeling, yawning as his eyes closed.

            Damien had no concept of time as he awoke to the sound of soft sniffs that were worryingly similar to whimpering. He opened his eyes to see sleeping Angela, lying on his chest, gripping his shirt. He didn’t have the opportunity to be concerned as she quietly mumbled. “Mama’s so proud of you, Sporky.”

            Even still half-asleep, Damien had to bite his tongue to stop himself from bursting into laughter. He was completely certain that even if he lived to be a thousand years old, he’d never meet anybody even a quarter as cute or crazy as the woman embracing him. He allowed himself a moment to examine her expression. Despite being passed out, her face was animated as ever. He froze when he noticed little diamond droplets clinging to her long eyelashes. He was very cautious as he gently wiped her tears away. “Don’t cry. Sporky just wants to see you smile. Let him see how proud you are.” He whispered, surprised to acknowledge how much he hated to see her cry when it wasn’t a performance, even if she was happy. Fortunately, his words seemed to infiltrate her dream as she sniffed once more before smiling.

            Man, that birthday candle must’ve been made of magic. He resolved to take her advice – from here on out, he’d never let himself miss another birthday wish again. Hopefully, they’d be just as close in a year, when it came time for him to blow out another candle. He watched her in awe until her breathing finally evened back out. It was an inexplicably familiar feeling, comprehending just how beautiful she was as he noticed the smallest details of her face, faded freckles, the faintest indent at the bridge of her nose from wearing her glasses, the angle in the arch of her expressive eyebrows.

            Damien sighed before softly whispering. “You know, I’m pretty sure you’re my favorite person.” He nuzzled in before turning off the bedside lamp. He was out the second the light vanished.