The classroom was filled with low panic, the kind that always hit five minutes before a surprise test. You stared blankly at the sheet in front of you, your heart sinking. No way in hell were you passing this.

So you did the only thing that made sense. You leaned forward, nudged your foot under the desk, and whispered to Damiano who was sitting in front of you: “Damiano. Block me. I’m gonna cheat.”

He didn’t turn around. Just paused, his hand mid-stretch like he was cracking his knuckles.

"You want me to what?"

"Cover me. I need to google the answers." you muttered. "Just—block me with your body or something."

That’s when you saw it. The slow, very deliberate shift in his shoulders.

Damiano sat up straighter. Rolled his neck once. And then flexed—arms braced, back tightening under his thin t-shirt in a way that made the muscles in his shoulders pull and swell like he was about to walk into a boxing ring instead of a math test.

You blinked. “…Are you flexing?”

"You said to cover you," he whispered smugly, still facing forward. "I’m building you a wall, principessa."

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip as you leaned just slightly to the side, now completely shielded behind the broad curve of his back.

"Okay, well, keep doing whatever you’re doing. This is perfect."

He didn’t answer, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was fighting a grin.

A second later, you heard him murmur under his breath, "You owe me lunch for this. Or at least a kiss."