The suit jacket stays underneath Damon's pillow. The scent is faint: the pheromones rubbing off from his inner alpha's need to brush it close to his nose every night. When he wakes up, he pretends it's not there. He also pretends that having it around doesn't satisfy some primal part of him—that he doesn't wake up feeling slightly better.
This morning is no different. Damon looks away as he tucks the jacket underneath the pillow. Today is the day he is going to have it washed, he tells himself while covering the pillow with a blanket. It doesn't dawn on him that he hasn't acted like this since he was young, hiding his most precious toy away from greedy hands. Once more, he tells himself that others don't need to know where or why the jacket is hidden since it's only there because he can't be bothered to put it away.
