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Luca had a secret.

A big one.

One so massive that if Damien ever found out, he'd probably set the entire city on fire in one of his overly dramatic "I'll destroy the world for you" moments.

Luca was learning how to cook.

Which, on its own, was a completely normal thing. But considering Damien's obsessive need to spoil him rotten and insist that "a divine being like you shouldn't have to lift a finger," Luca had to go full stealth mode.

His secret operation was flawless. Every morning, after Damien left to handle whatever terrifying mafia business he did, Luca snuck into the kitchen, watched online tutorials and tried his best not to set anything on fire.

It was going well. Mostly.

That is, until today.

Luca stood over the stove, squinting at the pan. He was trying to make something simple—just some stir-fry. Except, apparently, "simple" didn't apply to him because his onions were burning, the oil was popping aggressively, and—

SIZZLE.

"OW! Crap, crap, crap—"

In his panic, Luca grabbed the hot pan without thinking. The immediate sharp sting made him yank his hand back, but the damage was done. His fingers throbbed, bright red from the burn.

"Ugh." He ran to the sink, shoving his hand under cold water. The relief was instant, but so was the regret. Damien was going to lose it.

Maybe he could hide it? Yeah. He'd done it before, like that time he got a tiny cut from chopping veggies. That had been a nightmare.

(Seriously, Damien had gotten that knife melted down because it "dared to hurt my beloved.")

Luca sighed, drying his hands and wrapping his fingers in a bandage. He needed to get rid of the evidence.

Except—

The kitchen door slammed open.

Luca froze.

There stood Damien Callisto.

His dark eyes locked onto Luca, then the disaster of a kitchen and finally at Luca's bandaged hand.

The room's temperature dropped by at least ten degrees.

"...Luca." Damien's voice was deceptively soft. "What. Happened."

Luca slowly turned, shoving his hand behind his back. "Uh. Nothing?"

Damien took one step forward. His sharp gaze flickered to the stove, the slightly burnt food and then back to Luca's guilty expression. His smirk was gone.

"I knew something felt off today," Damien muttered, mostly to himself. "I could feel it. Like a disturbance in the force—"

"Damien."

"What happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing—"

Before Luca could blink, Damien was in front of him, gently but firmly grabbing his wrist and inspecting the bandage. His usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, concern.

Luca sighed. "It's just a tiny burn. It's fine."

"A tiny burn?" Damien repeated, looking at Luca like he just admitted to committing a federal crime. "Luca, why were you even near the stove???"

"...Cooking?"

Damien's expression shattered into something truly horrified. "Oh, sweetheart." He looked like he was about to cry. "Are we poor? Did I lose my entire empire overnight? Did someone freeze my assets? WHY WOULD YOU COOK WHEN I CAN HIRE ANY FIVE-STAR CHEF IN THE WORLD TO DO IT FOR YOU?"

Luca groaned. "I WANT to cook, Damien. I like it."

"But you don't need to," Damien countered. "You can have whatever you want without suffering in a kitchen—"

"It's not suffering! And I don't want some fancy gourmet nonsense every day, okay? Sometimes, I just want normal food."

Damien looked personally insulted. "Our personal chef's risotto is a work of art Luca—"

Luca scowled. "I don't want art, Damien! I want instant noodles and stir-fry!"

Damien placed a dramatic hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"Oh my God."

Damien's eyes flickered back to Luca's bandaged hand, his teasing demeanor shifting slightly. "It still hurts, doesn't it?" His voice had softened.

Luca hesitated. "Not really—"

Damien immediately pulled him toward the couch, forcing him to sit while he crouched in front of him. He carefully unwrapped the bandage, examining the burn. His lips pressed into a thin line.

Then, without warning, he kissed Luca's fingers.

Luca turned bright red. "D-Damien—"

"There," Damien murmured against his skin. "My kiss of healing."

Luca's brain short-circuited.

Damien stood, eyes dark with determination. "That's it. You're banned from the kitchen."

"Excuse me—"

"No." Damien crossed his arms. "You're never stepping foot in there again. I'll have the kitchen removed."

Luca gaped at him. "You can't just remove a kitchen!"

"I can and I will."

Luca groaned. "Damien—"

"Nope." Damien picked him up effortlessly, cradling him like a princess. "Come. You're getting pampered."

"I am not—"

"You are," Damien declared. "I'm going to order you the best takeout, force you to rest, and personally burn down every cooking tutorial that led you to this tragic moment."

Luca sighed, leaning his head against Damien's shoulder. "You are SO dramatic."

Damien smirked. "And yet, you love me."

"...Unfortunately."

Damien chuckled, pressing a kiss to Luca's forehead. "Face it, sweetheart. You're stuck with me."

Luca didn't argue.

Because, really, for all his dramatics, all his insanity, and all his overwhelming protectiveness—Damien Callisto was just a lovesick fool when it came to him.

And, well...

Maybe being spoiled rotten wasn't the worst thing in the world.

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