Disclaimer: I do not own nor did I create the characters or the world of Defiance. I'm just playing with them for fun, and not profit.
Author's Note: I'm actually surprised I wrote this. I just recently finished Airtime, which is more of an adult story, and I thought I would 'take a break' by writing something like this. Writing sex scenes makes me a little anxious I guess. I'm so in love with this ship – it consumes me. I can't complain about being inspired, though. This is less fluffy, less romantic take on how the two fell in love. Not that fluffy isn't awesome, I just need small doses. I'm a little too jaded I guess. Enjoy!
The first time I saw her, I was hungover like a dog.
We stumbled into her diner at some ungodly hour in the morning, avoiding going home so that we could avoid the inevitable questions of our parents. When she walked up to our table, wearing a blue plaid shirt and stained apron, she looked at us like any other human would. It was the way you would look at a tiger in a cage, if a tiger had killed some member of your family.
She pulled a small notebook out of the back pocket of her jeans, unsmiling.
"What can I get for you?" she asked in monotone. My friends ordered, and at this point, I hadn't really seen her yet. She was just another human with a stick up her ass.
"I'll have the, ahh, what do you call them," I began. This place evidently served only human food, except for a few commonalities tacked on as an afterthought. "Pancakes."
"Mhm," she said. "Water? Coffee?"
I looked up, and that was when I really saw her. Her eyes were tired but she was pretty, and her lips were bold and shapely, like they'd been drawn on by a contemporary artist. She tightened them when I didn't answer her.
"Water? Coffee?" she said again.
I was caught up suddenly wondering if I'd seen her before, realizing that, while I probably had, it was more like the way people saw trees and heard birds. There, but not there.
"Both," I answered.
Later, as I walked myself home, ducking my head inside a trash can to throw up the half-digested pancakes, I thought about her again. It was a nagging thought, and it didn't go away, even after I told myself that it was ridiculous and impulsive and I needed to stop.
"So, what's your deal?"
I looked up, shocked that she was talking to me. The place was quiet, with just a few hunched-over bodies filling the booths and chairs. She was refilling my coffee mug, her voice low and accusatory, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear.
"What do you mean?" I asked. I tried to sound innocent, maybe even a little annoyed.
"I mean that you come here, you order coffee, you sit around by yourself," she said, leaning back. "You overtip and leave. And you keep coming back. You're always here."
Despite the truth of this, I felt a little offended. It hurt to know that I'd been so obvious.
"Is there a problem with that?" I asked, trying to sound a little angry. She narrowed her eyes, staring me down suspiciously.
"No," she said, quickly, and walked away.
I stared down into my lukewarm coffee. This was not exactly going as well as I'd hoped.
I cut my trips to the diner down to twice a week, and began to think harder. She worked at the diner, but she had to go somewhere else, too. Somewhere I could blend in a little easier.
I took up cards at the Need/Want. It was an expensive hobby, but there were only so many dance clubs in Defiance, and it seemed likely that human girls would make their rounds there at some point. If not tomorrow then the next day, or the day or week after that.
And I was right.
I was already half-drunk when she came in, surrounded by human girls, friends, I should say. She was wearing a pale orange top that cut off at her shoulders, and a long gold chain that bounced lightly against the curves of her chest. I had never really noticed a girl that looked better in gold than in silver.
I turned around, staring at my cards, already feeling a slight sense of panic rise from my stomach to my chest. I'd been waiting for this moment, but I hadn't exactly planned what I would do when it came.
So I ignored her, laying down a few rounds and eventually making my way to the bar. I stood there, trying to look unassuming, until she walked up a few feet away and ordered a drink.
"You're that waitress," I said, and immediately wanted to shoot myself.
She turned to look at me, and it was clear she had not wanted to be reminded that she was a waitress, not when she had drawn on cat eyes and brushed gold powder on the corners of her eyelids.
"You're that creepy guy who hangs out at the diner," she shot back. My heart fell a little.
"Drinking coffee is creepy?" I repeated scathingly.
"Drinking coffee alone is," she snapped.
"You're drinking alone," I said, gesturing to her glass.
"I'm not here alone!" she said, throwing her hand back toward her human friends, some of which had curled up on futons with human boys, some of whom were dancing in the jerky, convulsive way that human danced.
"Neither am I," I said. I glanced toward the card table, where the game was still underway.
Silence fell between us, and I realized there was probably no way to salvage this conversation. I paid for my drink and left.
She didn't even ask what I would have when she walked up to my table, just stood there and stared at me as if I'd crawled in through her bedroom window rather than visited a shtako diner.
"Coffee?" she asked dryly.
"Actually," I asked, trying to sound just a tiny bit cheerful, "Could you recommend some type of traditional human breakfast food?"
I thought she might perk up at this, but she started at me as if I were crazy.
"How about," I scanned the menu, feeling suddenly panicky, "A salad?"
"You don't have a salad for breakfast," she replied, tapping her pen against the notepad.
"You don't?" I repeated. "Why not?" This was a shame, as a salad was about as close to Castithan cuisine as you could get, other than a steak or roast or fish, or some other simple slice of meat.
"You just don't," she said. She must've passed out last night without washing her face, because there was still gold dust underneath her eyes. "Dressing?"
At first I worried that she wouldn't come back to the Need/Want, but this was just arrogant of me. It was stupid to think that she would avoid the only decent club in town just because I went there and insulted her once.
When she came back, it was a Saturday and she was wearing black, a kind of black top that hung off the side of her shoulder and dark jeans.
It had become clear over the past few weeks that a conversation was not going to just magically blossom between us. I had to be direct, which was terrifying, but at least had the potential to end my self-esteeming-gutting diner visits.
I waited again until she was alone at the bar, and then I walked up to her, as casually as possible.
"Would you dance with me?" I blurted out, just as she turned her head to look at me.
She was surprised. Her eyes widened, and for a moment her callousness disappeared – out of pure shock, I imagine. It only took half a second for her suspicion to flood back in.
"No," she said, and took a sip.
Now I was frustrated.
"Why not?" I stammered, and immediately voices flooded my head telling myself to reel it in, that I was making a fool of myself.
I think she had hoped I would just walk away again. She half-turned, reluctantly, to face me.
"Because I don't know you," she said, as if this explained everything. As if after one or two conversations we could be friends.
"So you don't dance with strangers, then?" I insisted.
"No," she replied. She looked uncomfortable, as if she wanted to look around for her friends.
"Let me guess, you also don't meet new people?" I knew I was pushing it, but it angered me on same level, the fact that I'd never even had a chance.
"This is a small town," she replied coldly. "There aren't that many new people to meet."
You mean there aren't many humans, I thought. I tried to be calm; my temper was getting the best of me.
"So what, then?" I asked. I was getting desperate; I was feeling angry and miserable and cheated all at once. "Are you afraid of me?"
This seemed to take her aback, and she widened her eyes. Then she slammed down her drink and smiled, the wide, ironic kind of smile that comes before laughing at someone. It was a shame, because her mouth was so pretty.
"What is this?" she said, gesturing broadly toward me. "Are you on some kind of mission to fuck every species in Defiance? Is that why you keep bothering me?"
I opened my mouth to snap something back, then closed it. I hadn't expected things to go quite this far, quite this badly.
"No," I said, swallowing hard.
"So why do you keep talking to me, then?"
She stared at me for a long moment, and I thought about what I could say, and how ridiculous it would sound having been so recently kicked to the curb.
"So what you're saying is that because I asked you to dance, I must be some kind of sexual deviant?" I asked. I wanted to sound angry, fierce and a little intimidating, but what came out was more humble.
"I just don't understand what you want," she said, staring down into her drink.
I was out of words now, completely at a loss. I threw down some scrip on the bar and left again.
I didn't go back to the diner, but I did go back to the Need/Want, because it would've looked strange if I didn't. I half-hoped she wouldn't come. I thought that maybe, if I didn't see her for weeks on end, I would stop thinking about her.
Of course, it was only a matter of time until she came back, the same chattering friends surrounding her.
I resolved not to talk to her, not to make things worse. The only possible outcome of pursuing her now seemed to be making an idiot of myself, and I had done enough of that already.
When I became bored with cards, and tired of trying so hard not to look in her direction, I decided that I needed a Castithan girl.
It was easy enough to find one, and all I really had to do was reach out my hand and smile at her. There were certain advantages to having my last name, though they were evidently worthless in human eyes.
She was pretty, but not remarkable, and I found it hard to look at her as we danced. I tried to look out over the crowd instead, lifting and shifting my arms slowly to match her movements, letting a trancelike state wash over me. This was what I loved about dancing, this momentary calm. It was a pity I couldn't dance alone.
I looked at my partner and then again at the crowd, and that was when I thought I saw her. She was at the bar, but she was staring in my direction. Perhaps directly at me.
I tried to meet her eyes, but when I caught sight of her again, she was in profile and looking away.
The song ended, and I had to fight back the urge to walk over to her. You're imagining things, I told myself. Just wishful thinking, Alak.
But I didn't listen to myself, and I went up to the bar, standing far enough away so that it wasn't obvious that I intended to speak with her. She saw me out of the corner of her eye, and her face fell.
"Another shot, please," she called out to the bartender.
I stood there, waiting with my half-empty drink, but I didn't want to say anything. I just wanted to see if she would look at me with anything but contempt.
She got her shot, throwing her head back and taking it as hard as any man I'd ever seen. I had to admit, it was rather hot.
Almost immediately, she turned toward me, acting as if she'd noticed my presence the entire time and had only now deigned to speak with me.
"Your dancing is a little strange," she said, looking straight into my eyes. And then she walked away.
Her voice hadn't been warm. If anything, her expression was blank, void of emotion. But then again, this was a step up from disgust.
I smiled to myself. I would be back at Need/Want soon.
Obviously not the end! I just can't stop myself when it comes to this couple. Reviews are greatly appreciated!