He didn't need a key to get in, for he knew he was welcome. It was these things, these little rules she had to learn to communicate with him, and understand him properly. The fact she welcomed him, and actually cared about him, made him able to enter her house without needing permission first.
He usually arrived during the quiet hours of the night. Unlocking the front door and entering her small house as quiet as a cat on the hunt. She always compared him to cats, his mannerisms almost feline at times. The way he could look across a room, his gaze fixed on a certain object, a book or piece of new decoration she had purchased during his absence .It wasn't an obscure fact that creatures from the underworld shared certain traits with the only animal on Earth that had always been linked to the dark and occult. Another thing he had in common with felines; he didn't need to turn on any lights. His eyes were well adapted to night vision. And should he go blind, his other senses were just as well developed.
It was a cold October night, but still he could make out the shadows of her curtains dancing in the cool breeze coming through her opened windows. The autumn air smelled like rain. A storm was brewing, promising a true Indian Summer monsoon. He made his way through the dark hallway to her bedroom, where his sharp hearing could make out the sound of her calm breathing. If he really fixed his ears, he could even hear her heart beat calmly. She was in complete sleep, unaware of his presence. She used to wake up at the slightest movement in her bedroom. Always anticipating his return. But she had gotten used to his surprise visits.
He gazed down at her for a moment. Her long, dark hair sprawled across the pillows and her face buried into the blankets. Gently, careful not to wake her, he sat down on the side of the bed. She shivered lightly when a cold rush of air touched the bare skin of her arms. He reached out to cover her trembling form with the comforter. A light sigh escaped her lips at the sudden sensation of warmth enveloping her, and she snuggled deeper into the blankets. He would have touched her face had he been anything but what he was.
He would not disturb her much needed sleep if he didn't need to. She was a high school teacher, and made long hours during the day. For some reason, he felt much like the long awaited husband coming home after his own long day at work. He amused himself with this silly spin of his imagination and tilted his head as he studied her. It had been over a year since the last time he saw her, but he was glad to see she hadn't changed much. Her hair was longer, even longer than before. He frowned when his eyes caught sight of a thin silver bracelet around her wrist. She didn't have that before.
"Who gave you that?" he whispered, more to himself than to her and touched the piece of jewellery with a slender finger. Silver had the dark tendency to store the memories of all that had touched it, and keep their vibrations latched to its smooth surface. Brief flashes of a man he didn't recognize crossed his mind. A man that held her hand and kissed her under a warm afternoon sun. A man that gave her this bracelet as a birthday gift. She was smiling. They danced.
Of course she wouldn't spend her whole life alone. It was only natural for her to find someone, and he was happy to know she did. He only hoped, for the man's sake, the sucker was worthy of enchanting this young woman. She had friends in high, or rather low, places. She had kept the promise she made him a long time ago. To never have anyone stay over at her home. He didn't feel the man's past presence in this bedroom, or even in the house.
The poor guy had never seen the inside of these walls. Everything smelled and felt like her. He would have noticed even before entering the house if the man had been here.
He suddenly didn't feel like staying anymore, and he didn't quite understand why. It felt like he was intruding upon something that wasn't his business. But her private life was forever influenced by the promise she made him all those years ago. Even if he left her house right now, she would still expect him to be back someday. And knowing her as well as he did, her home would be forever ready for him. No husbands, no children and no Labradors. Just her and the promise she made him when she wasn't even old enough to make such promises.
A flash of lightning illuminated the room for a split second, and a clap of thunder rolled through the sky, the atmosphere still thick with the warmth of the hot summer months. It would rain soon. He could feel the room cool down. Too weary from his latest task to leave right now, he decided to make himself some tea and be on his way silently. He would leave a note. Or maybe not. The situation had changed and he wasn't sure he liked it. With a light sigh, he pushed himself up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen. He knew this small house so well. She grew up in it. Her parents, deciding they wanted to move to her father's hometown to care for her grandmother, handed it over to her when she was 22 years old. It had been completely hers for the past four years.
The kitchen hadn't changed in years. The walls still covered in its blue flowery wallpaper. He remembered being led into this homey part of the house by his hand when she was only eight years old. Like a pet she had found and wanted to keep. A stray puppy, her very own stray puppy. He had given her parents quite the scare, but was offered tea and a biscuit anyway. No one wore a suit around these parts. So he was looked upon as someone important. The FBI badge came in handy once again. It didn't just work with cops meddling into his business, it also worked to calm down the locals. Or in this case, her kind parents. He was even offered to stay for dinner. An offer he was sadly forced to decline.
Going down memory lane worked counterproductive with making tea, and the water was taking its sweet ass time to boil. He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. 3:45 in the morning. She would get up at 6:30 to get ready for her morning classes. Another clap of thunder caused the car alarms down the street to go off. Dogs started barking. He really didn't feel much for getting soaked to the bone right now. He didn't do well with cold. His body was no longer equipped to deal with very low temperatures.
When his tea was ready, he sat down at the small and rickety 60s inspired kitchen table, wrapping his hands around the warm cup. Perhaps this should be his last time looking her up. She deserved a life without half demons using her home as shelter. Half demon.. he really detested that name. It caused a lot of people to think he was the outcome of a demon jumping the bones of some innocent human female. That wasn't what a half demon implied. Atleast, not in most cases. But he was never one to correct humans on their ignorance. He was rather amused by their theories.
He sipped his tea quietly when he heard something drip into the hot liquid. He looked down into the mug. A drop of blood vanished slowly in the boiling hot beverage, leaving nothing but faint traces of its ruby color. He reached up to feel his forehead and felt a cut above his right eyebrow. He hadn't even noticed he was injured. The evening's developments had gone by so very fast. His brain was too tired to recollect the exact order of events. It didn't matter. He had done his job successfully.
Feelings of dizziness and slight disorientation had caused him to visit her welcoming home once more. His entire system protesting against losing too much heat. If the warm tea would fail to soothe his headache and warm him up, he might be better off on her back breaking couch tonight. He took another careful sip, for the tea was still boiling hot, and peered into the dark night through the kitchen window. It had started to rain by now and the glass was getting foggy from the warmth inside the house. He wasn't supposed to linger around on Earth for too long after completing a task. But he had built up some credit by finishing his missions consistently fast in the past years. He wouldn't get in trouble for enjoying a cup of tea to ease his building headache.
This ugly vintage kitchen table held no secrets from him. He had watched her draw her colourful interpretations of Hell and Heaven while he sipped the cheap tasting coffee her mother served to guests. Still under the impression her young daughter had developed an odd friendship with a childless FBI agent. There was one of those drawings in his office down under. A framed picture, yellowish from age, of a man in a suit with horns on his head. Happily holding hands with a little girl in a blue dress. She had pig tails in her hair that day, and she drew them too. He remembered the table filled with pencils in every colour possible. He had protested against the horns, but she had insisted.
"All demons have horns. That's just how you draw them." She had told him.
He still chuckled thinking about her argument. A sharp tongue she had, even at the age of seven. He hoped she would never lose the courage to stand up for her views, no matter who she was facing. Demons weren't going to be the ones breaking her down in her lifetime. Humans did that to each other, effortlessly. No helping hand from Hell needed.
He wondered if they still had that piano in the livingroom. Her father had left it behind when he moved back to his home town. She had played for him when she didn't feel like drawing and had already showed him every new book she had. Simple songs in the beginning. Mary Had A Little Lamb, or some silly church thing. When she was 14, she made him promise to come to her piano recital at her school. He hadn't made it. She had been inconsolable. He hadn't been around for a lot of things a true friend wouldn't miss out on. He hadn't meant to be absent during her high school graduation. But his request to visit Earth for that reason alone, had been denied. She never held it against him. And if she did, she had never told him.
His stiff knees started to protest against sitting in the hard chair and he decided to stretch his legs a little before they would lock up on him completely, rendering him unable to go home. He got up slowly, groaning against a pain in his abdomen he hadn't felt before and forced himself to walk to the livingroom. His dizziness was starting to get worse and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. She had not replaced any pieces of furniture. The same old set of armchairs surrounding a wooden coffeetable stood by the fireplace.
He smiled when he spotted the old faithful piano standing against the wall, even though it was hidden under a blanket. She didn't play anymore, he knew that. She stopped suddenly when she turned 18, and never told him the exact reason. She dyed her hair black and pierced her tongue. She wore nothing but long leather trenchcoats and read every book about Demons she could get her hands on. She tried witchcraft for a while. Tried to summon him through candles, incantations and spells. All it did was make his ears ring for no reason. She wasn't very good at it. She was a troubled teenager with a powerful friend she couldn't count on, couldn't tell anyone about without getting laughed at. He had told her to cut it out before she'd draw attention to the wrong sort of creatures.
He removed the blanket from the piano and opened the fall board, dust particles danced around the dark room. He couldn't remember much of his life as a human being. It was, after all, a very long time ago. But he remembered his father teaching him how to play the piano. He couldn't remember what the man had looked like, no face came to mind when he thought of him. But the smell of the old man's pipe tickling his nose while he stood over him, guiding his much smaller hands over the keyboard, was engraved into his mind forever.
He hoped that whoever that idiot was that had given her that piece of silver, he would give her the inner peace and quiet to play again. She could have had a promising career in music, if it hadn't been for him. He blamed himself for it, but didn't know if he had been the only reason. Whether he fucked up her love for piano playing or not, he was determined not to fuck up a love life she had every right to have. He closed the fall board and covered the piano with the faded blanket again.
This was going to be his last time here in this house. She had spent 20 years of her precious life, her only life, waiting for him and welcoming him into her home. It had been enough. He would no longer be the reason she couldn't live a full life. Never take anyone home after a party for her house was to be ready for him at all times. Never have anyone stay over for his true identity wasn't to be revealed to anyone else. These were no rules to grow old by. She needed the freedom to marry this son of a bitch if she wanted his sorry ass. She shouldn't even have to think about the opinion of some old half demon with the nerve to care about her.
With determination, he walked back into her bedroom, where she had moved only a little. Now laying on her back, still in peaceful slumber. The Goosebumps on her bare arms revealed how cold she was and he closed the window silently. He sat down on the side of her bed once more and gazed at the face of the young woman that had never failed to bring him to his knees with her effortless kindness. He could do this. He could let her go. He let out a deep tired sigh and reached out to brush her hair from her face, careful not to wake her.
"I'm going to miss you, Anna Rose.." he whispered. Her name was simply Anna. He had nicknamed her Anna Rose cause she once gave him a red rose when she was about ten years old. She had tucked it into the breast pocket of his coat.
Anna Rose, how she grows, heaven knows.. the little rhyme he used to tease her with. She had started growing in length rather late of age. But how she had grown, was truly the work of someone who knew what they were doing. The big man upstairs had a plan for all. And hers would no longer involve devils and demons. Like she always wanted him to when she was small, he would fight her demons for her, and remove himself from her life.
He had never kissed her before, but he wouldn't leave this house without stealing one tonight. Even if it was only to help that man, whoever he was, to remember who'd be coming after him should he dare break her heart. He leaned in slowly to brush her forehead with his lips. She shuddered at his touch, and he wasn't sure it was because she liked it. His touch was from a world foreign to her, and her response was only natural. He pulled back reluctantly and straightened his back. His spine and shoulder blades gave out little knacks and cracks as he rolled his shoulders, none of which he felt. He hadn't noticed her opened eyes and only looked at her when he felt her hand touch his own.
Without saying anything, she sat up slowly, gazing at him with a mixture of confusion and affection. Like a cat his pale eyes reflected the dim glow of the street lights, causing him to look painfully infernal.
"Hello, Anna.."
She smiled and her warm gaze fell on the thin scar on his left cheek and her smile turned into a worried frown as she reached out to touch it lightly with her slender finger, but hovering just above his skin.
"You didn't have that the last time I saw you." She whispered.
He swallowed thickly against the building nausea and his throbbing head. Now the adrenaline of the chase was wearing off, his body started protesting against the lack of sleep in the past four days. He leaned into her hand absentmindedly and closed his eyes. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. He could drown in her warmth, her young human warmth. Not just once had he simply spent a moment close to her sleeping form to feel the heat radiate from her living body. The sounds it made when he listened closely. Her blood coursing through her veins, and her beating heart. There was no heartbeat underneath his skin, yet his lungs still inhaled and exhaled air he no longer needed.
"We need to treat this.." she continued, barely audible, tracing her thumb around the edges of the gash above his eyebrow. Before he could answer, she had already left the bed, grabbing her bathrobe from a wallhook to wrap herself in. Now alone in her cosy bedroom he felt his exhaustion slowly get the best of him and he fought the urge to lay down in the warm spot she had left behind. He listened to her rummaging through cupboards and drawers, undoubtedly looking for the right combination of herbs and extracts to treat his injuries with. She had done years of research on how to heal a creature like him, since he showed up with minor injuries now and again. She returned to his side in a whirlwind of sweet smelling ointments and handed him a steaming cup.
"For the pain.." she explained as he gazed into the mug curiously, sniffing it sceptically like a cat would its meal. Unlike witchcraft and summoning demons, the art of brewing beverages from certain herbs was something she was exceptionally good at. She had never failed to patch him up with her odd concoctions. Remedies and recipes from ancient books. It was a simple formula, whatever herb that had positive qualities in white magic, would do him harm. Any dark qualities would help him. He had played lab rat at her first attempts, of course. He remembered fondly how she knocked him out cold for 35 hours straight one time. Probably the best sleep he had in years. And it was nothing a double expresso couldn't fix.
While he sipped at his drink, gazing at her over the rim of his cup, she treated his cut with the sweet ointment he had smelled earlier. He felt the wound starting to glow with a pleasant healing heat.
"Are you hurt somewhere else?" she asked kindly. He shook his head, eventhough he wasn't completely sure. His last prisoner had put up quite a fight, even armed himself with some sort of consecrated knife that could have seriously injured him. But his body felt bruised, cold, and most of all exhausted. Not gaping with open wounds. The warm drink was making him sleepy and he smiled at her through half lidded eyes.
"Just tired." He explained.
She nodded in understanding and refrained from asking any more questions. She knew him well. He preferred silence when he was tired, and didn't appreciate any interrogation sessions she might bestow on him, to find out what happened. There was no way she could force him. He was a strong willed creature, and force only caused him to recoil and leave her house before he had rested sufficiently. She had learned all this the hard way.
"What's his name?" he asked, gazing at her with a vacant expression. It wasn't easy to look at her impassively. He never meant to treat her with coldness. But it had sadly become part of his nature, part of the deal he made with Lucifer himself, now almost a century ago.
She sat back slowly, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head in question. She wasn't sure his interest was genuine. They had never been in a situation like this before. She had had boyfriends she never told him about, simply to avoid this very discussion. They came and went, and were never important enough to mention. But he knew all about them.
"Isn't it a little late to get all possessive now?" she asked with a soft smile. There was no menace in her voice, just a bitter sadness he couldn't quite place. "His name is Richard. He's a good man. We're colleagues." She continued.
He could only look away, mildly irritated with the guy already. The thought alone that this dull as dishwasher sounding teacher, probably wearing a pair of outdated glasses and a sweater his mother knitted him for Christmas, getting his hands allover this woman, his own little Anna, was almost unbearable to him. Someone just earned himself a ticket down under. "Yes, he sounds absolutely fascinating.." He spat sarcastically, causing her to sigh in exasperation.
"well no, he's not a half demon, or any sort of creature one might find more interesting to have around. He's painfully normal, and guess what.. I like that about him." she shot back. "Damn you.." he could hear the tears in her voice and couldn't make himself to look into her slowly overflowing eyes.
"I didn't come here to argue with you about this man." His tone had gone softer, almost apologetic if she didn't know him any better. He didn't like it when she was angry with him, but he wasn't sorry for speaking in a way humans didn't understand.
"Then why did you come? That cut can't be the only reason." She mumbled and readjusted her bathrobe, tying the knot a little tighter. It was dark in the dim bedroom, yet she knew better than to turn on the light on her side table. He much preferred the dark.
"I came to say goodbye. You're right, you know. If you want this man, you should be free to have him." He said, keeping his voice as monotone as possible. Emotions would only make this harder. "And as long as I keep sneaking into your life at the most unexpected and inconvenient moments, you keep your windows open to make it easier for me. I want you to close them."
She stared at him in utter shock, her mouth agape as if she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She had gotten so good at keeping her emotions at bay around him. He remembered the years where she was allover the place when he showed up. Clinging to him for dear life at times. But life had scarred her and made her wary of her own feelings. It happened to every human being. He had hoped the little girl he knew with the bright smile would be spared of the experiences most women had to go through, but he had been unable to protect her from life itself.
"why?.." she finally asked, tearing up. "Because of Richard?! It's not anything like that! He's just.."
He shook his head quickly, holding up his hand to stop her from going on. "This has nothing to do with him." He said. "This is something I decided a while ago. I just needed the courage and possibly the disorientation to come here and tell you. You don't know how long I've lingered through this house before waking you."
She gazed at him with a mixture of hurt and defeat, big tears rolling down her cheeks. The look of disappointment he well deserved and would no longer be responsible for.
"I never once thought your visits were holding me back from living a full life." She whispered. He swayed where he sat, feeling the dizziness get worse. His head too tired for a discussion like this, but he had been the one to start it. He made his bed, now he had to lay in it.
"What if you end up marrying this Raymond?"
"Richard.."
"Richard.. what if you end up marrying him?"
She gazed at him for a long time, noticing with worry how he swallowed thickly and closed his eyes a little too long for her liking sometimes. He had started shivering, which was never a good sign. With great tenderness, she placed her warm hand against his cheek, his skin stone cold. There had been a moment, a long time ago, where he had put a stop to her cheerful hugs. Ever since that day, there had been little physical contact between them. The only time he allowed her to touch him, was to treat the minor injuries he showed up with. He didn't stop her now, and welcomed her caresses. They felt foreign, a long forgotten sensation, but so good.
"I have an idea." She started softly, giving him the kind of warm smile she always seemed to save for him and him alone. He lifted his eyebrows in question, indicating he was listening. "You're freezing, exhausted, and you are in bad need of a good rest. If you want to talk about Richard and my feelings for him, you're going to have to wait till morning. And then I'll tell you."
He frowned tiredly at her proposition. The internal battle he had had with himself earlier this evening suddenly seemed decided by her and her terms. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside her, bask in her warmth, and wake up to her bright smile as she bustled through the house getting ready for her day. He had spent nights at her home before. Always sleeping on her couch. In the morning, she'd let him occupy the hammock in her sunny garden, soaking up the warm rays of light like a cat on a hot tin roof. But it wasn't good for her to spend so much time in the presence of a half demon, and the part in him that was still human, cared about what did her right. And what she deserved for all her years of waiting for him. She had shed silent tears over his absence. Missing him and needing him at moments he couldn't be with her. She deserved better, it came down to that.
"And if you cared that much about a man coming into my life.." she continued, causing him to snap out of his thoughts and look into her eyes. "You would have asked me out for a cup of coffee a long time ago, wouldn't you?" He could see the hurt in her smile right there. She was so painfully human in every way.
"Would you like to have a cup of coffee with me?" he asked then, his voice shaky from the violent shivers that ran up and down his body. He gave her an apologetic half smile.
But she only frowned, the sadness never leaving her expression. It was a wound that was no longer open, but had left a sore and sensitive spot behind. She had cared about him, he realized, but for his own stupid sake, she had never voiced her feelings. And slowly, as she grew older, she had learned how to store these feelings somewhere, where no one would ever find them. This was exactly what he had wanted to shield her from, but his efforts had worked counterproductive. He had caused her to hurt instead.
"I would like for you to stay here and rest." She answered, placing the back of her warm hand against his forehead gently. Every part of him was cold to the touch when he was tired, and warmed up as he rested. She remembered the first time he had fallen asleep in her presence, she had been no older than 10. Her mother hadn't minded the supposed FBI agent slumbering on her sofa. And when he woke up, and said his goodbyes to the little girl, his hand had felt as warm as if he had spent the whole afternoon in a hot tub. But he had never been this cold before.
He ceased his attempts to sum up reasons why he shouldn't be in this woman's welcoming presence right now. She wanted him there and he needed his rest. So he nodded at her request and let out a deep sigh. Her couch was old and it always managed to give him a sore back in the morning, but her home was a safe place to be and he could rest with the knowledge she watched over him while he slept. His only worry was if he could sufficiently warm up all by himself and a few blankets.
She smiled at his decision and climbed out of bed. "I'll go and prepare the sofa for you.." she said. Feeling bold, and rather desperate, he took hold of her wrist gently, stopping her in her way to the door. He needed her to listen to him for a moment. He needed her to talk to him, and say what was really on her mind. Perhaps it would turn into a talk that was long overdue, but he was willing to take his chances. He knew his hand was ice cold and he let go of her quickly once he saw her startled expression.
"I can stay awake for a little longer.. will you stay and talk to me for a bit?" He asked softly, gazing up at her. "Please.."
She rubbed her wrist absentmindedly and gazed at him with unsure eyes. He wasn't being fair to her, he knew that. And she looked at him as if she was searching for any ill meant motive behind his desperate stare. She didn't trust him anymore, like she had done blindly when she was younger. If he had asked the same question eight years ago, she would have said yes without a trace of hesitation.
"Why now?" Came her devastating answer. "What could we possibly have to talk about?"
He had tried to explain his physiology to her years ago. How his heart no longer beats and his lungs no longer pull oxygen from the air he breathes. There was a part of him that wasn't human anymore and it came with its own set of strengths and weaknesses. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better, more clear, if he did have horns and a long tail. It would make him look less human, and more like the creature he was. Perhaps then she would have understood. But he doubted it. He didn't have all the answers either, and he never liked her questions, never liked being reminded of not knowing exactly what he was and wasn't.
Her gaze had slowly turned defiant while he contemplated his answer. It was a certain way she could look at him that caused him to recoil and avert his eyes like a dog being punished. She reminded him too much of why he was in Hell in the first place. He had never been a good person. He never would be. But he had tried for her.
"Is this because of Richard?" She asked.
Again the name of that sack of shit he didn't want to be reminded of. He closed his eyes in agitation, counting till ten to calm himself down. Another shiver ran down his spine and he wrapped his arms around himself. This had been a huge mistake. He had created his own safe haven, and then he had commenced to tear it down and watch it burn. Her eyes spat fire, she was so guarded.
"I'll go.." He mumbled, heaving himself up from the bed with difficulty. But she blocked his path. Standing close to her, he could feel the heat radiate from her living body. It's all he wanted right now. To have her share that warmth with him that he could no longer produce himself. But that was a privilege not meant for him. And he felt a murderous rage every time he thought of the name of the person that held that very privilege. He looked up at her, at how she was observing him so closely and let out a deep, tired sigh.
She was long past the phase to ask him what had happened. He never told her anything about the people he was hunting down. He came to her when he had caught them, to rest up before going back where he belonged. She was never given any names or periods of time. But she knew him by now, and could tell when the hunt had taken a long time. When he showed up smelling like sulphur and gasoline, the hunt had been short. But when he showed up smelling of rain and morning air.. it had taken him days, if not weeks, to track down his prisoner. It was these very things that had caused her to become distant from him over time. All the things she had to find out for herself for he simply wouldn't tell her. Like a true friend would do.
"Anna, you're either going to have to let me sit down or walk to that couch, cause I'm telling you.. standing is not something I can do right now." He told her gently, feeling his legs starting to protest.
She had wanted to say something, anything. But standing so closely in front of him still rendered her speechless. That, and her sympathy for his tired body got the best of her eventually. So she nodded and stepped aside to let him through.
Loosening his tie, he moved toward the living room where a prepared sofa was waiting for him. She had purchased those extra pillows just for him, years ago. She'd put colourful covers on them too when he was staying over. The best part was that everything smelled of her. He sat down to untie his shoes and placed them next to the couch. His tie and jacket were neatly placed on a chair.
He buried himself underneath the stack of blankets she had given him, shivering like a kitten in a hailstorm. The rain was pouring out of the sky like there would be no tomorrow. Like God had decided to flood the place allover again. He was so cold, so cold. The blankets weren't warming up either, cause he was producing no body heat. Laying on his side in a rolled up ball, he felt a jealousy wash over him and cloud his brain with a bitterness he thought he got rid of a long time ago. He didn't even notice her entering and only looked up when she placed her warm hand against the side of his aching head. He rolled onto his back slowly and stiffly to meet her worried gaze.
"Do you need another blanket?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper. "I can get you more."
He smiled tiredly at her and shook his head, making himself dizzy. "It won't do much good. I simply have to rest and warm up. I thought you knew this.." He said, raising an eyebrow in question.
"It's never been this bad, I believe." She said softly. He shifted, making himself more comfortable on his back.
"I'm just glad to be in a horizontal position" He mumbled. "I was dizzy."
He hadn't expected to feel her fingers run through his hair, she had never done such a thing before, but it felt more than wonderful. He didn't want her to spend the rest of the night on her knees next to the couch helping him get rid of his headache, but right now he was taking full advantage of the situation. He didn't remember what it had felt like to be touched like this when he was still human, but he was almost sure it felt differently now. His senses were much sharper, even his sense of touch. He was sure she could make him high if she kept going. Had he been anymore feline than he already was, he would have started purring by now. Feeling his shudder, and mistaking it for something else, she paused.
"Do you want me to stop?" Came her timid question.
"Don't you dare.."
Her chuckle amused him greatly, he always preferred to see her smile and hear her laugh. She hadn't done enough of that in her short life. And he had been the cause of her tears and frowns many times, yet she was still willing to help him, and always did so in the most tender of ways. But tonight was different, a true rarity that would probably never occur again. He shouldn't play with her mind like this. Another flash of lightning lit up the room for a split second, and a loud crack of thunder ripped through the sky, causing the windows of the old house to shake.
She had been afraid of weather like this when she was a child, hiding under the covers of her bed with a flashlight. He couldn't take away her fear, but he could calm her young wrecked nerves by placing his cold hand on her forehead. He wouldn't tell her he was simply forcing her heart to slow down, and that the very same skill had been used to end lives, but it had worked nonetheless. The child had calmed, and her fear never returned. Now he was the one with a hand on his forehead, as she attempted to soothe his headache.
"Will you be gone when I wake up tomorrow morning?" she asked. He could hear the sadness in her question.
"It already is morning.. and I am still here.." He mumbled smoothly.
"You know what I mean.." she said. Yes, he knew what she meant. He also knew she would never understand his worry about spending too much time up here. It was such an abstract thing to tell a human the Devil might want a word with him if he broke the rules. And she had always recoiled whenever he did mention his employer. But like always, he didn't know when he would see her again. And by that time, she could be married to Raymond. Roger.. Oh for fuck's sake.. Richard, that's it.
"I still have to take you out for coffee.." He said, not bothering to open his eyes to see her expression. "It's been a while since I had pancakes." She didn't answer, and somehow he knew they weren't going nowhere tomorrow morning. And not just because she didn't want to, but also because he could predict already he was going to shamelessly sleep in. He felt himself heat up at a steady pace thanks to her healing touch. He wouldn't wake up before his body had sufficiently rested. He was only mildly aware of her soft kiss on his cheek, before he finally fell asleep.
R&R please!