Disclaimer: I do not own the fairytale Little Red Riding Hood/Little Red Cap etc. etc.
Warnings: Slash (m/m, homosexual, yaoi), supernatural, angst, minor cursing, adult situations/references.
Length: Four chapters, tops.
Word Count: 1167
Red Dawn
Chapter One
He had returned; he was there standing in front of me, his face haggard and worn, it seemed, by years of hardship. Dark sacs ringed along the bottom of his bloodshot, icy-blue eyes; his body was taunt and hunched over like some strange, starving animal ready to pounce at the flicker of an eyelash.
Those eyes...they were unmistakable. They were what had first drawn me to him when we were both children.
A stab of something searing hot pierced through me like a double-edged sword as he swayed unsteadily. The feeling left me breathless and not a little frightened at its intensity. I gripped the doorway tightly.
"Red…" The name was enunciated in a pleading voice dry as Saharan dust. It was enough to shatter my resolve.
Quickly, trying not to give myself an opportunity to think it over, I grabbed on to the torn sleeve of his scruffy brown jacket and hauled him in out of the howling autumn wind.
The heavy oak door slammed shut on its own, blocking out the expanse of grey sky visible above the craggy mountain range, and the groans of leafless boughs creaking in the wind.
A resounding clatter filled the small room as the bundle of brushwood fell onto the woodpile. My leather boots went to the bearskin rug before the fireplace. I prodded at the embers with a soot-blackened metal rod, stirring up the dying flames.
The dark chill of winter in the room began to recede. I smiled, relaxing in the comforting firelight and heat – and, yes, salivating a bit at the warm scents of baking coming from the oven.
The wind outside howled, battering at the sturdy walls of the house. The pots on the stove bubbled and hissed. The fire crackled as it ate up the kindling. It all created a calming sort of melody for the shadows in the corners to dance to.
There was a soft shuffling over at the kitchen doorway. Footsteps approached, lighter than a bear, but definitely too heavy to be that blasted hell-hound that kept breaking into my kitchen.
Bah, I knew who it was anyway.
"Morning Tyler."
"Hey Red," a massive yawn interrupted him as he replied. I hid a smile behind the soft fur lining my red coat. The green-tinged fire was climbing higher still, trying to accommodate two grown men. Mighty convenient, these witch-blazes.
A chair scraped as he pulled it out from the table and sat on it backwards to look at me. His presence was like a magnet, drawing my attention to him. I turned, and raised an eyebrow as he grinned expectantly.
"What is it?"
"What's for breakfast?"
I couldn't stop myself from snorting in disgust.
"You can get your own damn breakfast." I fixed him with what I hoped was a stern gaze, waving the poker in his face for emphasis. Tyler's brow creased as he frowned back.
"I'm hurt."
"I'm sorry for cruelly breaking your heart." I intoned dryly, a little bitter at the irony of the statement.
He huffed. "That's not it."
"Then I'm sorry for offending your delicate sensibilities, Princess."
His lips twitched upwards.
"No, see? I'm legitimately injured." He pointed to his bandaged right arm, supported by the white gauze slung around his neck. He was only half dressed; the smooth tanned skin rippling over his broad chest was marred by numerous jagged scars. There was one across his heart that looked like a vicious claw mark. I frowned at him. Those hadn't been there when he left all those years ago. Where had they come from?
"Where's your shirt?" I heard myself asking instead, the last word drowned out by the sudden spitting of the fire behind me.
Tyler gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his head with his left hand. His brown hair, chopped short, curled around his ears and the nape of his neck.
"Ah, well, it wouldn't fit over this," he gestured to his injured arm again, "so I didn't bother."
"Tyler. This isn't exactly the warmest place on earth." I said with all the calm I could muster. "Have you overlooked our location? Hit your head perhaps? We're smack in the middle of the mountains bordering the north of Andorra. It snows practically all year round."
This time his smile was strangely indulgent, as if he knew something I didn't. I narrowed my eyes at him. I hated that look. I was not a child to be kept safely in the dark.
"Yes, I read the road signs."
"You'll freeze to death." I tried again, the familiar frustration of having to deal with his tenacity beginning to rise in me.
"No. I forbid it from happening."
He was grinning, but I really didn't see anything to laugh at. Damned spoiled noble, thinks he's invincible. I rolled my eyes as hard as I could, and for a moment I saw white.
"Oh, bah! Have it your way, you reckless fool. But I'm not patching you up again."
He chuckled lowly. "You didn't have to do it, you know. I wouldn't blame you if you'd screamed at me to go away when I showed up last night."
I stared at him. He looked back at me with a grim smile and a serious blue glint in his eyes. It seemed like an eternity passed, compressed into a single, stifling silence laden with unanswered questions. I couldn't move, couldn't tell if I was even breathing…
When I tore my eyes away it was to find my hands trembling at my sides. My right hand had formed a weak fist around the poker. I wet my suddenly dry lips.
"So can I have breakfast now?"
I looked up quickly to find Tyler's face lit up in a wide grin, his wide shoulders and – admittedly fit – body relaxed. All trace of the previous moment was simply erased. It would bother me usually, these mood swings, but I was glad to let the topic drop. The past could be rehashed later. I put the poker back in its place, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall.
"No you can't -"
"Eh?"
"- but I can make you lunch instead."
As I turned I smirked at his relieved expression.
"You're not very fair Sydney." Oh, he was back to using my real name. Was I supposed to be scared now? I snorted.
"Get used to it."
There was a pause while that sunk in, and I used it to take down the bowls from the cupboards and taste the stew. A bubble of anxiousness was building up in me, turning my skin into goose-flesh. Maybe I'd said the wrong thing; maybe he wasn't planning to stay at all.
It would be just like him, really, to run off in search of adventure again…leaving me behind again. Bah, I needed a drink. This man – always more trouble than he was worth!
And then, the bane of my life uttered the true magic words.
"Whatever makes you happy, Red."
A/N: To be continued...? Should I really? Review and tell me what you think, please.