The rain outside had finally settled into a weak drizzle, no longer the booming storm it had been hours before. The air was chill for the time of year, but not cold. Almost pleasant with its mellow breeze. The diner contained only the irregular heartbeat of the young woman he had come to visit. Deucalion was thankful for both of these things. The bell chimed shrilly above his head as he stepped through the door.
"Well, well, well," Isla chuckled, her tone light and breezy and not at all concerned about being left alone with a stranger who could easily snap her neck without second thought. "Isn't this a pleasant surprise."
"Are you still open?" The man asked, counting the steps toward the counter as he sectioned off his white cane. He stopped about a foot away from the chair and tilted his head in her direction. "I could come back in the morning, if you'd prefer."
The waitress let out a quiet hum of consideration. "Well, my boss wouldn't exactly deem it appropriate to be fraternizing with the customers after hours- much less an older, exceedingly handsome one such as yourself, Dee."
Deucalion repressed a smile and chose to simply arch a brow at her as the woman came around to his side of the counter. "Is there a but?"
"Of course there is," Isla's hand touched his back and softly steered him toward the beat up leather stool. Once he was seated, she clapped him on the shoulders and gave them a tight squeeze. A vague hint of her bitter scent hit him, mostly covered by floral laundry detergent and light soap as she leaned over his shoulder to whisper in a conspiring tone, "In this case it's; but fuck her, she's not here."
He smirked at her, but she didn't comment on it as she returned to her side of the counter. Carrying on absently, she warned him, "But sadly, neither is Jimmy, so the kitchen's closed, I'm afraid. At least we have the wonderful assortment that the dessert tray has to offer to entertain ourselves with."
"Thank god for small miracles."
Isla scoffed at him, but her tone reminded airy and warm. "Like you didn't just come in her to enjoy my company and leech some compliments."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." Deucalion told her firmly, seeming to bristle at her confidence, "I simply like the food."
"Lies. There's no point in lying, you liar, because you've already been outted." She giggled a feminine, bright sound that made his stomach tighten a tad- although he wasn't sure if he liked that she could make it do that just yet.
Deucalion raised his brows at the light clatter of silverware as she set a fork and plate down in front of him. When the warm, welcoming scent of cinnamon met his nose, he asked, "I have?"
"Mhm. Also, if you like the food so much, why'd you come back after the cook left?"
"I didn't know he was gone until you told me so." The man rebuffed with pursed lips despite the way amusement pulled at the corner of his mouth. "What are you implying?"
"I'm implying that you like our little trysts." Isla replied. He felt her lean in slightly, to rest what he assumed to be her elbows on the counter as she continued nonchalantly, "Case in point, that you were here this morning and left when you found out I wasn't working."
Deucalion let out a hum of disapproval. "I never pegged Jimmy as the gossiping type."
"Oh, it wasn't Jimmy." The waitress set something in front of him. "I hope milk's okay, it seems too late to put a pot of coffee on."
"It's fine." He flexed his fingers around his glass. "So, if it wasn't our dear Jimmy, who was it that told you about my earlier visit?"
"Your nephews might've mentioned it."
The Alpha's brows rose over his Aviators. Dread replaced the warm feeling in his stomach, knotting it and straining his voice slightly as he repeated, "My nephews?"
"The twin teens that were terrorizing me little over an hour ago." Isla chuckled once more, her voice strong and clearly entertained and somewhat infuriating as she continued, "And by that I mean they were perfect gentlemen who stopped by to lavish me with compliments and ask how it is I plan to get you in the sack."
The glass of milk stopped an inch from his lips. Brow furrowed, he clenched his jaw. Around fanged teeth, he grit out, "They did not."
"Well, not in so many words. Aidan seemed particularly adamant about your need to get laid."
A hint of heat rose under his collar. Bristling with annoyance, and maybe a little embarrassment, the man told her firmly, "I do not."
"Too bad." He could actually hear the smile in her voice. It sounded like mischief. Or maybe that was insolence. It was hard to tell with Isla. "I told him I was working on it."
"You did not."
Entirely too proud to be destroying his life, or at the very least, his authority, she replied with a smug, "I totally did."
Deucalion sighed at her and set his untouched milk down. Rubbing his brow, he shook his head. "They'll never let me hear the end of this."
"Good. If it's gotten so bad family members are getting involved, it might be time to reevaluate your priorities. Also, eat." He heard her push the plate in his direction, "Or I'll have to throw it out. You're not allergic to anything are you?"
"No." He frowned as she forced a fork in to his hand with nimble, firm fingers. "And what should my priorities be?"
"Getting laid." After a moment of pensive silence between them, she added, "Duh."
Deucalion bristled at that, but he liked to think only slightly. "Hm. Well."
"Well what? That should be everyone's priority." Isla dropped something onto the counter about a foot away from him. After a moment of silence, she nudged his shoulder. With a considerably gentler voice, the redhead ordered, "Eat. Or I'll have to throw it out and I hate throwing out food."
"Should I expect a discount?" The older man asked, cutting into the pie on his plate with his fork. "I certainly wouldn't want to pay top dollar for something that belongs in the trash."
"It's on the house. A fair trade for all the amusement your nephews gave me earlier."
Recalling her staunch dislike of pity, he replied, "Well. I certainly wouldn't want it to be charity."
The words were barely out of his mouth before her lips pressed against his. The kiss last only a second, almost too light and chaste to even be considered a proper one, before Isla pulled away. He could feel the heat from her blush against his cheek, taste the faint scent of arousal in the air and closed his eyes in case they lit up red.
"There." The word was barely a whisper against his mouth, almost meek before the woman straightened and the strength returned to her voice once more. "Now you can't pay for it, otherwise its prostitution, sorry."
A brow arched over his Aviators, but he kept his eyes firmly shut. "You don't sound sorry."
"Yeah, I'm really not." Isla told him smugly.
Clearing his throat, Deucalion dared open his eyes. Given there was no shocked gasp or fear in her scent, he supposed they had mellowed into their normal, unsettlingly clouded, blue. His head tilted up at her, he asked, "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"
"What gave me away?" She asked with a warm laugh. "Was I too subtle?"
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "They say subtly is overrated."
"Do they?" The young woman asked curiously, "Well, they do know best. Also, eat. Seriously, I cannot throw out Jimmy's twice baked apple pie. I refuse to. It would be a criminal offense."
"It does smell rather good," He admitted.
"It's life changing. It changed my life."
Deucalion let out a puff of laughter and he set upon the pie. True to her word, it was delicious. He listened as she fluttered around the restaurant on light feet in squeaky sneakers and the two spoke mostly of trivial things such as the weather before he set the fork on his plate.
"So, are you just about ready to close?"
"Just waiting on my dashing customer to finish up," Isla replied, moving around the counter to take his empty plate.
"May I walk you home?"
His stomach tightened at her pause, but after a moment she agreed with a bright, "I'd like that. Let me get my coat and keys, okay?"
Deucalion inclined his head and listened as she gathered her things. Sectioning out his cane, he asked where it was she lived so that he could get his bearings of the area. The young lady apparently lived only a few blocks down the street. The neighborhood was hardly the best, but given the fact that Deucalion was a supernatural creature who could tear a grown man apart without breaking a sweat, he was hardly worried- at least for himself. After about a minute he heard the lights click off and the fluorescent stutter overhead. The man wordlessly held the door open for her.
"So courteous." She praised with a soft pat to his cheek. Her fingers were warm and the touch tender, but it didn't linger as she stepped out into the cool night air. "A rare trait nowadays, Mr…what is your last name anyway? It's been bothering me since you shut down Mrs. Daye."
"Alaric." The man replied as he heard a rustle and a whoosh before an umbrella covered them. He offered her his arm.
She took it, linking it together with her own and pressing closely against his side to keep them both within the protection of the umbrella. "Deucalion Alaric," Isla repeated with a hint of amusement. "How regal."
Slightly distracted by the soft swell of her hip as it brushed his own and the way his arm tucked into her waist as it linked with her own, he asked, "And yours?"
"Psh. Like I'm going to tell a total stranger my last name," The woman bumped her hip against his teasingly; unaware of the effect it was having on the man to have a woman so close after a considerable dry spell. With a hint of good-natured condescension in her voice, she chided, "Have you learned nothing from those singing identity theft commercials, Dee? I mean, honestly."
"Well hopefully nothing will come of my foolishness."
He felt her shoulder shrug against his. With a hum, she teased, "We'll see."
"Hm."
"Lighten up." She gave his ribs a gentle nudge, the physical contact this time followed by a chuckle, "I only steal the identities of unattractive men with unattractive accents, so you're perfectly safe, handsome."
"You certainly aren't one to mix words are you?" He asked with a crooked smile. "Would you allow me the same lack of discretion?"
She gave his arm an encouraging squeeze. "Please! I welcome it."
"May I touch your face? Assuming, of course, you'd be comfortable with that."
The woman let out a quiet hum and slowed her steps. "I suppose that'd be fine. I don't have to do anything, do I? Beyond staying still, I mean."
"Just relax your features," Deucalion replied as he handed her his cane.
He offered her his cane and his hand. Isla took both. Keeping the white cane between them, she raised his hand to her face, letting his thumb find her temple before letting go. Her skin was smooth and warm, with a hint of a flush on her cheeks as he dragged his thumb down her jaw to her sharp chin. Keeping it there, he let his index finger caress her high cheeks and brought his other hand to her hip. Wrapping his arm around her slender waist, he found her to be lithe and accepting as she pressed against him with little resistance. Her scent still held that strange, almost tart undertone, but her arousal sweetened it as Deucalion cupped her face. He hardly noticed that the umbrella handle was digging into his stomach, having fallen slightly to the wayside. Rain sprinkled around them, but neither of them paid it any mind. He continued to map out her features with calloused, steady fingers, over the wide curve of her cheeks to her pointed nose. Over her thin brows and over her large, closed eyes; he was surprised to find her without make up on, before he let his fingertips rest on the full bottom lip of her mouth.
"Well." Deucalion cleared his throat as he pulled back, pleased and more than a little turned on himself by hands that she had casually resting on his hips, that sent swirls of want and sex and mine in his mind. "I suppose I should be flattered to be praised by someone so beautiful."
"Oh, has the old man found some game?" Isla teased. She shifted her hips restlessly against his own in a clearly mindless, anxious way he found to be incredibly seductive in its innocence. Of course, that virtue was quickly dampened by her words, "Keep it up and maybe I'll let you come inside with me."
The Alpha hesitated. It would probably be best they held off any intimacies until he learnt the nature of her illness, lest he trigger an episode like the one she had in the diner the first day they met. "I don't know if that'd be such a good idea."
"And why not?" There was no disappoint in the redhead's voice, just curiosity and frankly he appreciated that.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he began to lead her back down the road. The two fell into an easy pace. Smirking, he explained, "I'd prefer to take things slow, if it's all the same to you."
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, what with your affinity for conciliatory manners." She nudged his hip with her own, "So I suppose I'll just have to be flattered that you would want to take the time to bed me like a proper gentleman."
He pulled her a bit closer, enjoying the warm press of her soft form against his hard one in the cool, wet air. "Such crass words from such a lovely girl."
"Did I offend your delicate sensibilities, Mr. Alaric?"
"Certainly not."
"Good," Her fingers found his chin, and Deucalion was once again met with a kiss.
This was no light peck but rather a real one; her lips brushed over his, all warmth and sensuality as she pulled him close. Teeth gently scraping over his bottom lip, a silent request that he was more than happy to fulfill by parting his lips and Deucalion was met with an easy, bold stroke of her tongue along his own. A low moan escaped him at the taste of her, at the tang of apple and cinnamon and the sweet taste of her flesh as Isla's hands ran down his chest. Her touches light and teasing and completely welcome as her finger tips rested on his belt.
Letting her mouth linger against his, she murmured, "This is my stop."
"Oh." The werewolf cleared his throat but made no attempt to pull away.
Neither did Isla. Fingers still resting dangerously close to his crotch, she asked, "Are you sure you won't come up?"
"I think it would be best if we waited," Deucalion grit out as a hint of that bitter sickly undercurrent made its way into her scent.
"Spoilsport," She taunted, but stepped back. "Alright, I'll stop being such a tease. Here." Careful hands took one of his and the young woman pressed the handle of her umbrella into it. "You can give it back to me tomorrow when you pick me up."
"I can?" He asked with a dry grin as he let the umbrella rest on his shoulder. "At what time?"
"Noon at the diner? I've got a doctor's appointment in the morning, but I have the rest of the day off."
"Sounds good. I'll see you at noon."
The two shared one last quick kiss before she skirted around him and darted into her apartment building.
A/N: this is probably one of my favorite things I've written in a while. Tell me what'cha think, if you're so inclined.
