It started innocent, just a lazy afternoon sprawled on the couch, your legs over his lap.

You were scrolling on your phone. Quiet, focused, smirking every now and then at something on your screen. Damiano glanced down once. Then again. Then one more time.

"What’s so funny?" he asked.

"Nothing."

Which, in Damiano language, translated to: 'Challenge accepted.' Before you could lock your phone or even blink, he snatched it straight out of your hands, hopping off the couch with a wicked grin.

"Damiano!" you yelped, lunging after him. "Give it back or I swear—"

"Ooooh, what's this? ‘Saved for later’? Should I be concerned?"

"It's a TikTok recipe, you dummy!"

You launched yourself at him, but he dodged easily, phone held high in one hand like a trophy, the other bracing himself on the wall as he laughed. That stupid, beautiful, smug laugh.

"You know," he teased, scrolling way too casually, "if I find any shirtless guys in here, I might cry."

"You're literally shirtless right now."

"Exactly. I set a standard."

You finally tackled him back onto the couch, half-straddling him, both of you breathless and tangled. He held the phone above his head until you kissed his neck. Just once. Then he froze, grinned, and handed it back. "Cheater."