Title: Love at First Sight 1/?
Rating: Teen, I'd say.
Warnings: God, I am such a horrible writer. Enjoy :)
Prompt: Cain hates his job as a door-to-door (insert item here) salesman, until the day the door opens and he meets Ambrose.
(I have no idea where on LJ I found this prompt or who made it, so if it seems familiar let me know!)
Summary: When bitter door-to-door magazine salesman Wyatt Cain meets the Mayor's young, beautiful, and not-to-well known son he finds exactly what he is looking for.
Character(s): Cain/Ambrose, lil DG, Adora.
He straightened his coat once again and pushed his old dark hat up just enough for him to catch a glance at the mansion of a home before him. This was his ninth house and he'd be damned if he had the door slammed in his face again. Not like he wasn't used to it. He woke up, showered, shaved, and dress his best only to be looked at as a nuisance. But that depended on whether he was actually looked at.
He wasn't a very good salesman, probably the worst at the company. As dedicated and loyal as he was he just wasn't sneaky enough to go from door-to-door selling magazines that would show up (hopefully) weeks later and get thrown in the trash because the customer regretted their idea. A waste of money really. He was told to look onto his fellow sellers, and he did. Just not in the way his superiors wanted him to.
His shining black boots squeaked lightly, annoyingly so, as he stepped along the stone path that travelled from the front gate, past a rather large garden, and to the front porch. Roses and other kinds of flowers he swore he had never seen swayed in the day's gentle breeze. His well-cared for boots contrasted with his old duster and light tan pants – whether he dressed to impress or not he figured he would always be greeted with the same responses: "No," "I'm busy," and some other much more colorful phrases that he himself used more than was necessary.
Working his magic on some slouching morning glories, a gardener took the time to look up. Cain nodded as he past, eyes never meeting for neither one really cared. Maybe the uniformed man who tended to the weeds and the like had the same attitude towards his work as Cain did. Or maybe it was Cain's bitter demeanor. Either way he walked on until he came to the bottom of the large front porch. A roof shaded the whole extension that seemed to wrap around the entire building, which was at least five times bigger than his own family's run-down shack. At least his last brother had moved out, leaving only Cain and his parents to call the place home. He, too, wanted to leave. But with his paycheck how could he afford any other place? Out of all of his dreams, this was sure as Hell not one of them.
He took the steps careful and stopped when he hit the welcome mat, bright and pale flowers mingling together to form a beautiful picture making it look more expensive them himself. He cleared his throat and pressed a calloused finger to the bell. He could hear a faint vibration inside, but nothing else.
Six doors had closed before one word was even said. At one house no one was home, and one man refused to even open the door at the last – but Cain knew he had been home, the bastard. Cain had seen him riding the same white sedan that was parked…in his driveway. They could at least have the balls to say no…" he thought. But he was already down on his quota for the month, so he had to get whoever lived in the beautiful pearl white home to buy a subscription.
Moments later he could hear footsteps starting to come close to the entranceway, and Cain stiffened up, chest out. He always refused to remove his hat until he was allowed inside; he found nothing rude about that. Although his superiors would say otherwise as they often did, noting how his peer had the courtesy and politeness to mirror a saint. But that was because Zero was simply a weasel. Cain chuckled to himself as the door was swung open, and he nearly choked when he saw what stood behind it.
Greeting him at such a beautiful house was nothing less than a beautiful man. He looked younger than Cain, but he knew looks could be deceiving. His curly brown hair was a near mess, small glasses resting on top of those soft locks. But it was those brown eyes that made his own deep-blues pop out. They stared down at a piece of paper, like they were trying to hide from him, not even noting the salesman at their door – like it was nothing unusual. And judging by how much the man must make it probably wasn't unusually in the least. A perfect target was a perfect house.
"Can I help you?" Asked dark lips that only helped reflect the soft flawless skin cloaking the young man's whole body. His voice, hard and direct, was not expected.
"Um…my name is Wyatt Cain and I'm with – "
"I'm sorry, but she is not here and no who is will talk to reporters." Cain hesitated, not sure what to respond back with. Who was "she?"
"I-I'm not a reporter. I'm with Mystic papers, and I was wondering if you would be interested in signing up for a subscription to one of our sister magazines." He was surprised by the tension in his voice. But it didn't faze the other man, who shook his head.
"I don't think so, so please…" Brown puppy dog eyes looked up and quickly did a double-take. "…"
"…yes?" Cain asked, lowering his head to try and make eye contact with the slightly shorter man, who was glaring at him in disbelief, until a brilliant smile spread across his face. Standing right in front of the brunette was a tall, rough-and-tough body of muscles, tan skin, and many other things he was thoroughly enjoying imagining.
"Of course, we do read quite a bit in this house." The brunette rethought, snuggling up against the wooden door and bit his lower lip (not hiding the fact at all.) His voice had changed from busy and rough to playful and shy. Cain hoped his gulp wasn't heard. "Come on in. You must be so hot out there today!"
Cain took a big step, missing the mat and landing on the smooth marble floor that awaited him inside. He looked around at the large staircase on his left, and two archways into room on his right. Some standard green plants stood beside both entranceways. He could see through one pf the archways a living room of sorts. A few doors lined underneath the stairs, closed and hiding Lord only knew what. The door creaked behind him slowly and he turned to see those big brown eyes staring him down, back against the frame and head cocked only a few degrees to the side that Cain found quite devilish. He gulped at the stray curl on his new friend's forehead.
"My name is Ambrose Lafant, but a lot of people call me 'Brosey." He said, sauntering over to Cain and scratching under his chin. Ambrose found the stubble charming, to say the least. Cain took his hat off and held it in the same hand as his leather briefcase, flexing his legs to try and untighten his pants. It didn't help. "…Or you can just call me Ambrose." He finally said, slightly embarrassed but not even considering letting that stop him.
"Nice to meet you, Ambrose." Cain formally greeted, before a thought struck. "Lafant? Like Lavendar Lafant?" Ambrose sighed and rolled his eyes. Cain knew that name. Everyone from within miles knew that name. He knew she had a daughter, also called Lavender, but a son?
"Yes," he sighed, "Like that Lavender Lafant."
Cain was about to say something, but suddenly a small voice called out.
"AM'ROSE!" It said, high and horribly pitched. Ambrose smiled the sweetest Cain had ever seen in his life, making his bitter and used up heart breathe a breath of fresh air.
"DG, dear, you are supposed to be eating lunch." Ambrose said will all gentle words and loving voice. The very small, dark-haired girl stomped her foot and frowned.
"I finished! And I wanna' play." She complained, all the while eyeing Wyatt and making him feel all that much more uncomfortable. It appeared the evil of the salesman did indeed cross age boundaries.
"Alright, but be very careful, and stay inside the yard, little one." DG smiled happily and hugged Ambrose's long legs. She then persisted to glare at the strange blonde man in her house.
"Hello, there." He said. DG smiled. And then kicked him in the shin before running off. "DG!" Cain grunted and stiffened up, letting the pain sink in. "I am so sorry, Mr. Cain!"
"No, no. It's quite alright…worse has happened. A friend of yours I presume?" Feeling horrible for the display, Ambrose covered his mouth with his hand.
"My niece. She takes far too much after my sister, Lavender." Cain shook his foot like that would help and cleared his throat.
"So I was right, you're related to Mayor Lafant. I didn't know she had a son." Lavender Lafant was not only the mayor, but the richest woman within this town and the next ones over. She had single-handedly built a company from the ground up – one that pretty much produced and owned everything. Ambrose grinned and scratched the back of his head, rocking back and forth on his heel.
"I don't go out much. I am more of…a consultant than someone for appearance sake." Wyatt nodded and repositioned himself, hoping his awkwardness would get across. He wondered how many more supporters she would have if she plastered Ambrose's face around.
"Why don't we go off to the sitting room and get a little bit more…comfortable." Ambrose teased, walking away past the stairs and to the second open arch. Cain stopped himself after the first ten seconds of watching those hips, and then noticed Ambrose waiting for him to come along.
The air felt hot.
A/N: I wrote the first two chapters of this years ago, and have decided to revise them. Planning on added many more chapters as well. So long as I get some readers *wink*