Work Text:
Angela was not a person with high anxiety. At least not very often. Anyone could experience some at times, but it wasn’t her constant.
So, waking up feeling very on edge for a reason she couldn’t pinpoint was awful.
Rolling over in bed, Angela reached a hand out to the other side, hoping to find Damien next to her. He was not, and she felt an extra dose of anxiety clawing at her throat.
He’d spent the night, and it hadn’t been the first time or anything, but him not being there had her wondering if he’d left.
Angela closed her eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths. They helped a bit, and she reminded herself that he’d never left without saying goodbye first. But the feeling of something being off just would not leave her.
What she really wanted was to find her boyfriend, so she rolled out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt that was draped over the chair in the corner of her room.
It settled around her shoulders and was pretty baggy, falling to her mid-thigh, and if that wasn’t enough of a clue that it wasn’t her sweatshirt, Damien’s scent filling the air told her immediately.
It felt like receiving a hug from him, which slowed her heart rate to an almost normal level. She couldn’t believe in their three months together she’d never stolen his sweatshirt. This was amazing.
Angela still wanted the real thing, though, so she made her way through her apartment. She smiled once she heard the sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen.
She could smell bacon and eggs, and the overwhelming anxiety had lessened, allowing her to realize how hungry she was.
Damien heard her footsteps and turned his head, still half-focused on scrambling the eggs in the pan. “Good morning, Anguhla,” he said with a smile that reached his eyes.
“Morning,” Angela replied, continuing to walk forward and sliding her arms around his waist from behind, plastering herself against his back and squeezing tightly.
“Oh, hey,” he said, sounding caught off guard. Then more gently, “Let me turn around.”
Angela released her grip slightly, and Damien set down the spatula and spun around to face her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, drawing her into his chest.
Finally, a sense of peace encompassed her, and she let out a contented sigh.
“You okay?” Damien asked, recognizing that this wasn’t her typical morning greeting.
“I am now,” she answered honestly, and snuggled further into his embrace, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat and steady breaths.
Damien didn’t say anything, instead he just continued rubbing a hand up and down her back.
They stood there silently, wrapped up in each other, until the smell of food burning broke them out of their little bubble.
“Shit, the eggs,” Damien exclaimed, turning instinctively, and Angela released her hold on him.
She giggled as he tried to salvage them, turning the burner down and scraping the unburnt eggs to the side.
Once that was under control, he turned back to Angela, no doubt taking in the way she was hugging herself, the sleeves of his hoodie pulled over her hands.
“You sure you’re good? Did something happen?”
Angela paused before answering, smiling up at him softly. “Nothing happened. And yeah, I’m fine now. I don’t know what was going on, I just felt super anxious, and I wanted you. The sweatshirt helped til I found you.”
Damien smiled a little bashfully, making sure the stove was off before hugging Angela again. “Well, feel free to wear it whenever you want. Or need.”
“Really?” She asked, voice muffled by his shoulder.
“Yeah, of course. What’s mine is yours, and all that good stuff.”
****
It’s not that Angela thought Damien was kidding, but there was a part of her that wanted to test the extent of the “what’s mine is yours” promise.
But she started off pretty basic, mostly just wearing his sweatshirts around either of their places and maybe occasionally when they were out grocery shopping or something.
Eventually, though, it seemed only natural to level up and start wearing his beloved anime t-shirts. The material was soft, which she’d known already from coming in contact with it on his body. But it was entirely different wearing it herself.
It wasn’t even a legitimately new experience, because it’s not like she’d never worn oversized shirts, or “men’s” clothing before. But it did feel new to wear Damien’s clothing. It was thrilling and she loved it. Angela decided that she’d have to steal his t-shirts more often.
And Damien’s reaction when she walked out into his living room in her shorts and his shirt only confirmed that.
His cheeks turned pink, and Angela smirked at him, coming to join him on the couch, tossing her legs over his lap and leaning against a pillow.
She didn’t acknowledge it, instead turning her gaze to the tv. Although she really couldn’t tell you what she was “watching”. Her eyes might’ve been on the screen, but her attention was fully on Damien.
He kept glancing back at Angela, seemingly unable to look away from her for more than a few seconds at a time.
Later that afternoon, Angela found herself up against the wall, legs wrapped around her boyfriend’s waist as Damien kissed along her jawline.
“I take it you don’t mind me stealing your clothes, then?” Angela teased.
Damien huffed out a laugh, talking against her skin. “Wear whatever you want, you look better in my clothes than I ever do.”
“Agree to disagree,” Angela replied, running her hands along his shoulders and biceps. “Take me to bed?” she asked a moment later.
“Your wish is my command,” Damien replied, which was very cheesy, but Angela loved it.
But he didn’t start to move them, so Angela met his eyes having a feeling that there was something he wanted to say.
“You good?” she asked sincerely.
Damien nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just…I have one request.”
“Shoot,” Angela told him, knowing there really wasn’t much he would ask that she’d say no too.
“Leave the shirt on?” he said, cheeks dusted pink but a small smile on his face.
Angela smiled brightly. “Damien, I may never take it off.”
****
Not long after, Angela confirmed that Damien’s willingness to share with her didn’t stop at his clothes.
One day they were out at the mall food court, having seen a movie and done some window shopping. Angela had ordered some pizza, and Damien had chicken strips and fries.
Angela had really been looking forward to the pizza, but she was immediately let down when she bit into it to find that it was the most mid pizza she’d had in a long time. The dough was just on the undercooked side, the cheese was kind of burnt, and the sausage was bland.
Her disappointment must have been written all over her face, because Damien raised his eyebrows. “Is it bad? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that unhappy while eating Americanized Italian food.”
“No, no, it’s not bad, it’s just not the best. But it’s fine, at the end of the day it’s still pizza,” Angela replied, hating to complain about food.
“You sure you don’t just wanna get something else?” Damien asked, and Angela felt herself melt a bit.
She loved that while he’d never send food back if it was wrong, or really ever complain about what he was eating, he was all for Angela doing just that.
But really, it wasn’t a big deal, and she told him as much, taking another bite to prove it.
She didn’t know what face she made that time, but it had Damien smiling before scooching his tray just a tiny bit closer to hers.
But Angela didn’t want to take his food, so she ignored his silent offering in favor of taking another bite of her poor excuse for a pizza.
Except, then his chicken strips started to look extra good as he took a bite of one of them, and so did those fries.
Angela took another bite of the pizza, not wanting to be the girlfriend stereotype of always stealing her boyfriend’s fries.
“Angela, just take some, I have plenty,” Damien said interrupting her warring inner monologue.
She took in the amused expression on his face, but he looked completely serious as well. And Angela really did not want to eat any more of that pizza. So, she sighed and reached out to grab one of the chicken strips.
It was much better. “Thank you,” she said, feeling a little embarrassed, wondering why she hadn’t just gotten her own.
“No problem,” he replied, adding another one of his chicken strips and a handful of fries to her plate.
Angela smiled, feeling very cared for, and when they were done eating and had left the food court, she kissed him thoroughly as an extra thank you.
He seemed to appreciate the gesture very much.
****
Angela had searched all over Damien’s house, retracing her steps from the night before, and she just could not find her phone.
She hadn’t realized it was missing until Damien was already in the shower, but she really wanted to check if she’d gotten any important messages.
His phone was left on his nightstand, and she wanted to use it to call her phone, but she felt weird taking it without permission. Plus, she didn’t know the password.
So, she knocked on the bathroom door, and after hearing a faint ‘come in’ from the shower, she poked her head inside.
“Hey, do you mind if I use your phone to call mine? I can’t find it.”
“Not at all, go for it,” Damien replied without hesitation.
Angela didn’t think she could have felt more secure in their relationship, but here she was, feeling like a layer of bubble wrap had just formed around them. “Thanks, what’s your password?”
He rattled off the numbers, and Angela thanked him again before leaving the bathroom and picking up his phone.
She found her contact, loving that he had her saved as “Anguhla 💜” with her contact photo being the two of them, and started walking around the house, listening for a faint buzzing noise. She had to redial multiple times but finally heard it in the living room.
Angela was led to the couch, and she successfully dug it out from between the couch cushions. She had a bit of a flashback to the night before, remembering how much fun they’d been having on the couch. Her phone must’ve slipped out of her pocket completely unnoticed by either of them, which wasn’t surprising given how preoccupied they’d both been.
She returned to his bedroom, flopping down on the bed and checking her messages, returning his phone to the nightstand.
There wasn’t any need to search through his phone, but it was nice knowing that Damien didn’t seem like he would care if she did.
****
Early one Monday morning, Angela pulled on one of Damien’s shirts, having realized that she didn’t have any clean clothes of her own.
She hadn’t exactly meant to spend the night, but they’d talked late into the evening after making dinner together for their six-month anniversary, and she was too tired to drive home. She’d messaged her roommate to see if she could take Spork out and give him his dinner, and knowing that her baby was taken care of, it was all too easy to fall asleep in Damien’s arms.
But she’d forgotten that the last time she’d spent the night, she’d taken all of the clothes that she typically kept at his place back to hers to be washed and switched out. And she’d never brought any back over.
And she really did not want to wear a long-sleeved blouse with quite the plunging neckline to work. That had been a purchase with Damien in mind, and Angela had a feeling the only reason Damien met her eyes at all the night before was because he was too goddamn respectful to stare at her tits all evening.
At least she’d worn jeans with the shirt, because as much as it would be fun to try out his stupid pants for a day, they were just too big on her. And not in the cute way, like his shirts.
Angela had been woken up before her alarm by the cats that were currently knocked out on her still-sleeping boyfriend, so Angela decided that she’d make them some breakfast before work. Hopefully it would be ready by the time his alarm went off.
She’d just stacked the last pancake on a plate and put it in the microwave to keep them warm when a pair of very nice arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Angela leaned into Damien’s chest, letting herself be tucked fully under his chin.
“Morning,” she said cheerfully.
Damien gave her one last squeeze and released her, and she turned around to face him. He gave her a short but sweet kiss, before replying. “Good morning to you. This smells great, Ange.”
“Good. Wanna grab the syrup and plates, cause the pancakes are ready.”
He nodded and did so, but he seemed to miss a step as he went to hand her one of the plates.
“What’s wrong?” Angela asked, because he had a confused expression on his face.
“Nothing’s wrong, you just don’t usually wear my clothes to the office,” he replied nodding down to her shirt.
“Yeah, I know. It’s not a shoot day so I figured it would be fine, cause I don’t have any clean clothes here. But if it’s not I can figure something else out,” Angela offered.
He shook his head quickly, and smiled, putting her at ease. “No, it’s totally fine, I was just wondering.”
Angela smiled back, and they sat down at the table with their pancakes to eat.
She’d only taken a couple bites when she noticed Damien looking very deep in thought. “Damien?” she called, garnering his attention.
“Hm?” His eyes met hers quickly.
“Something on your mind? Are you sure you’re okay with me wearing your shirt around everyone?” It's not like their relationship was a secret to their friends and coworkers, but neither of them was a big fan of PDA, and they were pretty reserved at work since it was a professional environment.
Damien’s face softened. “Yeah of course. I don’t care about that. I was thinking about something else, but it’s probably crazy.”
Well now Angela was just plain intrigued. “What?”
Her boyfriend licked his lips nervously and opened his mouth before closing it again.
“Come on, you can talk to me about anything,” Angela prompted, a little worried now.
Damien took a breath. “What if you moved in with me?”
Angela’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t expected that.
But maybe she should have. It felt like she’d spent almost as many nights at his place as her own in the last month. And the times that she was at her apartment, he was typically joining her.
“I totally get if it’s too soon, or if you just don’t want to,” Damien continued. “I just…well, you wouldn’t have to worry about not having clothes here if…if they were always here.”
Damien paused, but Angela couldn’t find the words to reply, so he kept talking, probably out of a need to fill the silence. “And I love having you here. When I go to bed, when I wake up…Honestly, I just love you.”
Angela didn’t think she’d ever smiled so hard in her life. In the next second she was out of her seat and sitting in Damien’s lap, hugging him around the neck tightly.
His arms went around her waist easily, and she could feel the relief settle in his shoulders.
“I love you too, Damien,” she said quietly next to his ear. “And I’d love to move in with you.”
She pulled back from the hug and met his eyes. He looked so happy. As happy as Angela felt.
“You sure you’re prepared to have me here all the time? I’m probably not gonna stop stealing your clothes, even if all of mine are here. You’d better be ready for that,” she said, and she was mostly joking, but a part of her was serious.
She wasn’t really asking about the clothes. She was asking about everything else. If he wanted all of Angela in all of his life. If she was welcome to all things Damien.
But Damien’s eyes just crinkled up. “Angela, I told you a while ago. What’s mine is yours.”
Angela kissed him, perhaps harder than she ever had before, and tried to communicate in it that everything she had she wanted him to have too.
And maybe all that was communicated was that she was perfectly willing to bear the consequences for showing up a couple hours late to work. But oh well, she’d tell him later. After all, they would have plenty of time together now.
*Bonus*
Angela was sitting on their couch, scrolling through social media, and petting Zelda and Freyja who were both snuggled up against her legs. Spork was lying in his dog bed, upset that his usual spot had been taken, and he was switching between staring at Angela forlornly and dozing off.
Damien had been in his streaming office, preparing to go live for the next few hours, but he came out making all of the pets’ heads pop up.
“Hey, Ange, do you have a pen? I can’t find any in the office for some reason.”
“Um, yeah, check my purse, I think I’ve got one in there,” she replied nodding towards where it sat on the table in their entryway.
He walked over to it and dug around for a bit before successfully finding one. “Thanks!” he said, starting back towards the other room.
“No problem. What’s mine is yours,” Angela said smirking, and enjoying the way Damien shook his head with a small smile. He paused by the couch, leaning down to quickly capture her lips in a kiss before leaving the room.
Angela had taken to saying that little phrase practically every time Damien used something unimportant that was technically hers, or that she’d brought over from her apartment.
A random mug, or the scissors in their junk drawer. The lamp that now sat in the corner of their room. All he had to do was turn on the light, and Angela would be there, ready to remind him that he was well within his rights to use the lamp.
It was stupid, but it made Damien smile genuinely every time. And until he stopped loving it, or until nothing they owned had been purchased separately, Angela would keep on doing it. She was never one to let a bit die, and especially not one that carried so much love and meaning behind it.