A/N: Written for DawnInk's prompt "the man gets jealous that Vera is giving her ex (michael's father) another chance and he comes to visit her after she sets up their first date". I would say it's a bit AU-ish, considering recent developments (I swear, the show is trying to kill us), but if you want an approximate placement in the timeline, I'd say it's around the latest episode (Episode 8).
Disclaimer: I own neither the show nor the characters. I don't earn any money with this piece. I just do it for fun.

When his spy among the angels tells him Vera has accepted the olive branch Travers extended and is going on a date with him the next day, something in him snaps. How dare she, who has taken everything from him and left him with nothing, go on as if the last few days never happened? How dare she try and find happiness again when his own future has been smashed into a million pieces? How dare she forget him?

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he's being irrational but that notion is crushed ruthlessly by his darker and more feral side that he usually keeps tightly leashed but always seems to lose control over when it comes to her. Vera gets under his skin in a way that nothing and no one ever has before, she of all people is able to strip him down to the bone and leave him feeling raw and exposed. He wants to break her, wants to possess her, it's a twisted mix of conflicting feelings that burns beneath his skin like hellfire.

He doesn't think twice, doesn't really think at all, works on instinct, leaves his horsemen behind without another word and tracks her down single-mindedly, not at all surprised to find her in the backyard of the bar the remaining angels have chosen as their base of operations.

Hidden among the shadows of the night, he watches only her, barely pays attention to the rest of the group around her, watches a blush stain her cheeks as Erin wishes her good luck for her date with Travers before disappearing with the others through the back door to get another round of celebratory drinks, leaving Vera smiling softly to herself, and that searing feeling lodged behind his ribs flares up again. He's moving before his mind can actually make the decision, leaves the cover of darkness and crosses the line he's been walking for so long, stepping into the circle of light.

Her head jerks up and he savors the flash of fear behind her eyes as they find his. For a moment, they simply stare at each other, but then she shifts and slowly gets up from the chair she's been sitting in. Her eyes dart to the door of the bar, her intention clear, but he cuts her off effortlessly and gives her no other choice but to move away from it and further into night.

When her back hits one of the wooden beams, she flinches but instead of cowering before him, Vera raises her chin and stands her ground, the expression on her face hard and yet so beautiful, and he can't stop a smirk from spreading across his face as he stalks towards her.

"What do you want?" Her tone is calm but her eyes are not. "We stopped the apocalypse. We stopped you. It is over."

Her words strike a nerve, cut through him like his brother's sword all those millennia ago, and his control slips. He crowds her back against the beam, his hand at her throat and the length of his body pressed against her. Even in the dim light he can see the unnatural red glow of his eyes reflected in hers and his lips curl in a dark smile as he hears her breath catch in her throat.

"Maybe," he murmurs, "but you and I? We're not over."

Under his fingers her pulse is racing, and something tells him it's more than just the fear of him, it's the fear of what's happening between them. The knowledge leaves him lightheaded, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers.

"We'll never be." His fingers trace a path from her throat up to her cheek in a way that's no longer threatening, and it's impossible to miss how she shivers at his touch. "You can pretend, Vera. You can try to go back to your old life and your boyfriend, but in the end, it will always be me."

Every muscle in her body goes tense and then she tries to pull away, her hands pushing against his shoulders, but there's nowhere for her to go. "You're lying," she breathes, shaking off his hand, and for now, he lets her.

"Am I?" His other hand finds her hip and his fingers press hard into it over the hem of her top. "Look into your soul, Vera, and tell me, who do you see?"

"No." She tries to look away but he catches hold of her chin, turning her face back up to his, and stares at her steadily.

"Who do you see?"

"No—"

"Who, Vera?"

"Stop—"

"Who?"

"You!" She almost spits out the word, her eyes ablaze with a fire that rivals his own. "It's you, you son of a bitch."

"Yes," he says, his voice rough, edging into hoarse. He rubs his thumb softly over her bottom lip, following the echo of her words, and something like triumph rushes through him as her breath hitches. "Me."

When he kisses her, she tastes like salvation, like a long-forgotten memory, and it stuns him a little how his body is remembering hers in a way that shouldn't be possible. For a heartbeat, she freezes, her hands clutching at his shirt, but then her lips part, his tongue slipping into the wet warmth of her mouth, and he's lost. He slides his hand to the back of her neck and into her hair, draws her head back and his lips follow the curve of her throat, her skin hot against his tongue.

Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as she arches into him, her hips rolling against his, and he groans, low and deep, his teeth scraping lightly along her shoulder. The sound Vera lets out is something between a whimper and a moan, her fingers sinking into his hair, holding his face against her neck as he grinds his hips against her. It's her who pulls his mouth back to hers, her kiss hot and demanding, an edge of desperation to it, and he wants more, needs more—

The laughter of her friends, moving back out into the yard again, jolts through them like the breaking of a seal, and with a start, he and Vera pull apart. Her breath comes in short bursts as she stares at him, her eyes dark, glittering with desire, and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in her again but their moment is gone, he can already sense her rebuilding her walls.

"This isn't over," he whispers against her mouth, and Vera narrows her eyes at him. Her mouth opens, some kind of protest forming, but he presses his lips to hers with bruising force, swallowing the words and leaving her gasping into his mouth.

He releases her abruptly and transports himself out of the backyard and back to his hide-out,and that last image of her — the heated look in her eyes, her expression caught somewhere between anger and hunger, her lips bruised and flushed — stays with him for a long time.

The fierce heat surging through him is no longer fueled by fury because now he knows better. She will go on her date tomorrow, maybe have a good time even, but like he told her, it will be him she's going to return to in the end. They're irrevocably linked, a connection that binds more tightly than rope, and that nothing and no one will ever be able to sever. Raising his glass in mock salute, he grins at his reflection in the window.

"Until next time, Vera."

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