December Prompt #16: Love
Paul had hated the way his wolf had fallen head over heels for the leech-lover the moment she had stood up to him and smacked him straight across the face. He had gotten so furious at his wolf that he had phased on the spot. To his rising anger, his wolf had loved that the tiny spitfire of a girl had refused to move from her spot. She had stood there and stared him in the eyes, daring him to attack her, and everything had shifted for Paul.
He had fallen for those doe-like brown eyes of hers. His wolf had forced him onto his knees so that he could crawl over to the girl and beg her for a fucking pat on the head.
Paul had been disgusted with himself.
What had his life come to? He was one of the strongest wolves in the pack, and he had been whining for the brown-haired girl to scratch him behind his ear and rub his belly like he was a fucking dog.
About three things he was absolutely positive. First, Bella Swan, the leech-lover, was his imprint. Second, there was a part of him—and he didn't know how potent that part was—that thirsted for her attention. And third, his wolf was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with her.
Okay, those three things were related to one thing, but he was sure of them.
And he hated it.
He hated the way she made his heartbeat increase every time she smiled at someone else. He hated the way Jacob fucking Black would pull her into a tight hug that would have her gasping for breath. He hated the way she curled in on herself every time the wolves talked about the golden-eyed leeches around her. He hated how she ducked her head and stuttered when one of the wolves complimented her cooking. He hated how shy she seemed in front of everyone when he knew she could be so much more. He could see it in her eyes.
He hated her—and the fact that the human part of him was so quickly falling in love with her.
Paul Lahote didn't do love; he only fucked women and got the hell out of dodge before they could get their claws in him—everyone knew that. But for once in his life, Paul didn't want to run. He wanted to stay close to the brown-eyed girl with the mean right hook. He wanted to care for her, provide for her, and he wanted to step back and watch her stand up for herself. He wanted so much, but he didn't know what to do as he hadn't been in such a situation before.
He thought of going to Sam for advice, but he didn't want his Alpha to look at him with that stupid fucking knowing glint in his eyes—it was like Sam was channeling his inner Yoda or some shit. Going to Jared was out of the question too; Jared would only tease the hell out of him and never let him live it down. Paul could already hear Jared's annoying sing-song voice in his head, "Is the great Paul Lahote finally settling down? Are my eyes deceiving me or can I see pigs flying? I can feel Hell freezing over. The unicorns are coming out into the light! Hogwarts is real!"
Paul grimaced and shook his head to clear it. He knew he couldn't go to the Three Stooges either—Jake would punch him in the dick, Quil would just laugh his ass off, and Embry was probably a virgin and wouldn't be able to help him anyway. Seth was a child, and Paul would rather ask a leech to bend him over and fuck his ass before he went to Leah for advice.
That only left Emily.
"I'm sure I can think of a way to help you, Paul," Emily said with a gentle smile, sitting down opposite him with a plate filled with red-and-green-colored cookies. She pushed it towards him along with a mug of foaming warm milk. "Why don't you eat while I come up with ideas that will work for you?"
She didn't have to tell him twice. Two of the sugar cookies were already in Paul's mouth, melting on his tongue. He shoveled more into his mouth, chewing quickly but still being able to savor the taste of the colorful icing. He was almost finished with the cookies when Emily said excitedly, "I have a wonderful idea!"
"What?" Paul mumbled, a few crumbs spilling out of his mouth and landing on his lap. He quickly picked them up and shoved them into his mouth. He didn't want Sam to yell at him for making a mess for Emily to clean up later; Sam often scolded the pack for their immature teenage tendencies.
Emily grinned and leaned over the table to speak conspiratorially, "I heard from Jake that Bella will be alone during the Christmas holidays. Charlie's still worried about the hikers that are going missing, and he won't be home…"
Paul squinted at Emily with confusion. "Okay…So?"
Emily's grin widened and her eyes shone with excitement when she said, "So, how about I organize a Christmas party here instead? Bella could come over and—"
"We don't celebrate Christmas, Emily," Paul stated, interrupting her immediately. He was grateful for her help, but he needed something logical and practical that would work—not something like an outrageous Christmas party.
"I know that," Emily said, rolling her eyes and slapping Paul's arm gently.
Paul's wolf would have bristled with indignation if it had been anyone else than his Alpha's mate (or his imprint, of course—his wolf would have started purring at her touch like a fucking cat).
"Then why would you—"
This time, Emily interrupted him smoothly. "I'll tell her we don't want her alone on Christmas because we know how much the day means to her. That way, she can come over and you'll be able to spend some more time around her—"
"The Three Stooges will probably fuck things up for me," Paul grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "I don't want them around."
Emily chuckled and said, "How about you show up early to the party so you can spend more time with her? You can give her compliments—"
"Like what?"
"Girls like it when you compliment them—maybe not on her appearance… How about complimenting her on something she's done or her personality?"
Paul nodded solemnly. "Yeah, Swan looks like shit most of the time, so no, not on her appearance."
Emily's eyes widened. "Don't say that she looks like shit!"
"But she does…" It was the truth. Swan's ribs poked out from under her thin shirts, and her face was gaunt and pale—okay, it wasn't as gaunt as it had been a few months ago, but still! She ate like a baby bird and only pushed her food around the plate more often than not.
"Bella probably knows that, Paul. But she doesn't need people to remind her of it."
"How about if I suggest she clean up from time to time? Would that be better?" The types of compliments Paul usually gave to the women he bedded were not something he wanted to use on his imprint.
Emily stared at him for a few moments before sighing loudly. "And how would you suggest that?"
Paul tapped his chin thoughtfully before nodding. "'How about taking a shower the next time you come over?' That sounds polite enough to me."
Emily facepalmed so hard Paul thought she had just slapped herself. She groaned and dropped her head onto the table. "Paul, no…"
"Then how do I tell her to take a shower?" Paul demanded, his hands beginning to tremble. It felt like Emily was judging him, and he didn't like it.
"You're telling her she stinks"–Emily ignored Paul's "she does!"–"and that's not the way of impressing her."
"Maybe I could say 'your hair looks less greasy today'," Paul thought out loud.
"That could work," Emily said with a soft chuckle.
"What else can I compliment her on?"
"Well, if she's wearing something new, you could tell her how nice it looks or how it brings out her eyes. Maybe you could mention how you miss her natural scent—that will both compliment her but also remind her to take a shower."
"But I don't say things like that, so she'll definitely be suspicious. What do I do then?" As far as Swan knew, he was an asshole who couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"If she asks you about it, tell her you're not playing around and you really do think she looks better," Emily said sagely. She got up to bring him some more cookies as his plate was empty.
When she returned with the delicious treats, Paul shoveled a handful straight into his mouth and asked, "How fo ah vake co'v'rzation wi' her?"
"First of all, I didn't understand what you just said. Second, please don't talk with your mouth full. It's impolite and annoying," Emily said, pulling his plate away. "And third, please chew and swallow with your mouth closed. Do you want Bella to be disgusted by your behavior? Yes, you're a wolf, but that doesn't mean you can't have manners."
Paul slumped down in his chair and swallowed the cookies before muttered, "Sorry, Em."
Emily nodded and pushed his plate back to him. "Now, what did you ask me?"
"I said how do I make conversation with her?" Paul repeated, this time chewing slowly.
"Find a common interest and talk to her about it. For example, she's into books and cooking—"
"I'm not into books, and I'm only into eating," Paul said pointedly, thinking this was a waste of his time. There was no way he would be able to impress his imprint. He was probably fated to die alone surrounded by a hundred prostitutes who wouldn't even be able to get his dick to twitch because they weren't his imprint.
"That's good! You could mention your favorite foods and maybe even the fact that you want to learn how to make them—even if you don't want to learn, you could bond with her over food."
Paul shook his head and sighed. "I can't see that working on her, but I could give it a try. I don't have anything to lose."
"Maybe you could ask her about her favorites or ask her if you can hang around when she's cooking. She might find it a bit strange, but you could say you like to watch people cooking. I could even vouch for you!" Emily gushed, her excitement visible on her face.
"That sounds creepy as fuck, Em. What if it reminds her of her douchebag ex—the leech used to do that too, didn't he?" Paul was not going to do anything that jeopardized Swan's weak mental state by reminding her of the bastard that had broken her heart.
"Watching someone cook for you is seen as an act of love," Emily explained, her lips stretching upwards in a goofy smile. Her scars were barely noticeable when she smiled like that; Paul had to admit Sam's imprint was quite lovely in her own way—of course, his Swan was the loveliest woman on the planet no matter what anyone said.
"She'll probably suspect I'm up to something and poison my food. I don't know if we wolves can survive that."
"Do you really think she's capable of poisoning you?" Emily stared at him pointedly.
Paul didn't even hesitate. "Nah, she doesn't have the guts to do it. She's too nice for her own good."
"There's your answer." Emily leaned back in her chair and clapped. "So, what have you learned?"
"Make her suspicious, but still compliment her, right?"
"Don't make her suspicious. Just be yourself; let her see the real you. But the rest is right," Emily said gently, patting his hand. "You already are a great guy, so show her that you can be there for her when she needs it. You can be romantic when you want and even nice enough, but not many people get to see this side of you. Let her see it, and make sure she understands that it is still the real you—the part that you keep concealed."
Paul pursed his lips to hold back his retort of, "How the fuck is that supposed to impress her though?" Emily was just trying to be helpful.
"Thanks, Emily," Paul said, getting to his feet. He stretched his legs, ready to leave this conversation. He hadn't ever spoken to Emily for this long, and talking about his feelings was making him a bit uncomfortable.
"Anytime, sweetie," Emily said with a bright smile. "I'll talk to Sam about the party—don't worry, I won't tell him what happened here today."
"Nothing happened here today. You fed me cookies and milk because you think I'm a fucking child, and then I left," Paul stated.
Emily giggled and covered her mouth with her hand. "Of course, Paul."
Even though Paul wasn't used to smiling at people—he only ever smirked or sneered—he gave Emily a quick smile even though it felt strange on his face before jogging out the door.
Oh, thank Taha Aki that's over with!
In the end, the Christmas party was just dubbed 'the party', and Emily informed Paul he should come over at least two hours before the actual party began. His Swan had offered to cook for the pack, while Emily had decided to bake the treats. Paul's mouth had watered at the thought of his imprint cooking for him—for them.
Oh, how desperately Paul wanted her to feed him something with her own two hands. He could imagine the way she would blush when her fingers grazed his lips, the way she would duck her head to hide her face, and the way she would nibble on her lower lip and tilt her head just a little to meet his hungry gaze. God, Paul would give his left nut just for that same situation to happen.
As Paul had made sure Sam gave him the morning patrol, he was completely free by the time the clock struck four. He hesitated for a moment before pulling on a thin t-shirt and a pair of ankle-length jeans and applying a hint of cologne—he told himself it was just so that he smelled good (and not that he'd heard Swan mentioning to Jake that she liked the smell of this particular cologne).
He sprinted for Sam and Emily's house, hoping he could get to see his imprint cooking. When he reached the door, he cleared his throat and knocked, remembering how Emily told him to mind his manners.
A few moments later, the door swung open and his beautiful, beautiful imprint stood there. She was wearing a hoodie that reeked of Jake's scent, which made him want to rip it off her and bathe her in his own scent. She had a pink apron around her waist that said, 'Kiss the chef,' and Paul desperately wanted to follow its instructions. He wanted to swoop in, pull her into his arms, and kiss her breathless. He could even imagine the way she would gasp into his mouth, the way she'd clutch onto his hair, and how her eyes would be full of love and affection for him.
"Hi, Paul," Swan whispered, and Paul's gut clenched at the sound of his name on her lips. He longed to hear her moan it while he was balls-deep inside her, thrusting into her warmth like there was no tomorrow.
Paul swallowed back his lust, trying not to throw himself at her feet and beg her to climb onto his dick. He cleared his throat, leaned against the doorway, and drawled in a low pitch, "Hey, how you doin'?"
Swan's eyes widened imperceptibly, but Paul's keen eyes caught the slight movement. She stammered, "I'm fine, thank you. And you?"
She was affected by his presence too! Paul was about to smirk like he usually did, but he stopped himself just in time. Instead, he forced his lips to turn up in a gentle smile.
"Are you okay?" Swan suddenly said, frowning up at him. "You look… constipated."
A quiet snicker from inside the house reminded Paul they weren't alone—Sam could hear them too. Paul straightened up and choked back the low growl in his throat. "I'm fine," he said a bit angrily.
Her shoulders slumped enough for guilt to wash over him, but he couldn't apologize; the words just couldn't come out of his mouth. Swan turned around and walked back inside, and Paul cursed himself but followed her towards the kitchen. She glanced over her shoulder for a second but didn't say anything.
When they entered the kitchen, Paul caught sight of Emily humming as she danced around the kitchen to the soft music playing on the radio. To his surprise, Emily danced over to them and took his and Swan's hands in hers. "Dance with me, you two!"
Paul was not a good dancer. He preferred standing on the sidelines and watching the women dance instead. But when Swan let out a soft giggle and joined Emily in her weirdly paced dance, Paul's heart melted. He kept his face calm and composed while he did a little jig, still holding Emily's hand.
Emily laughed and said, "Feel the music in your veins, Paul, and let go!"
"I don't even know what that means, but okay," Paul muttered, absentmindedly reaching for his imprint's hand. It was soft and warm, and it fitted perfectly in his own, her pale skin contrasting against his.
Swan glanced up at him, startled, but she didn't let go of his hand, which was a huge deal for Paul as she didn't even like holding Jake's hand. She offered him a shy smile, and Paul's heart almost gave out on him at the sight. Oh, how pretty her smile was!
She swayed awkwardly to the music, her tiny hand still clasped in his, and Paul barely noticed Emily letting go of their hands and stepping back with a huge grin on her face. His imprint held his full attention, and he didn't want to let go of her any time soon.
He was so busy openly gaping at her smile that he didn't notice Sam coming into the kitchen until his Alpha chuckled and slapped Paul's shoulder good-naturedly. He teased, "You're supposed to dance with her—not stare at her with your mouth open."
Immediately tensing up, Paul opened his mouth to retort, but Swan was suddenly pulling away from him, her eyes wide with horror. Paul's heart fell into his stomach at the sight; Sam had fucked things up for him already.
"The lasagna!" Swan cried before pivoting on her heels and sprinting towards the oven. She stumbled and almost face-planted against the stove, but Paul didn't let that happen.
He shot forward and grabbed her hips, stopping her just in time. He pulled her up flush against his front, wrapping his arms around her abdomen.
"Be careful, Swannie…Don't want you to hurt yourself," he murmured in her hair, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head at her natural scent.
"S-sorry," she muttered, but she didn't pull away from him. She bent over right in front of him, and a strangled sound escaped his lips at the sight. She shot up straight and whirled around to face him, her eyes wide with bewilderment. "What was that?"
"No-nothing," Paul stammered, his eyes wide with fright. Oh, shit! He had almost moaned out loud—what was she going to think of him?
"Okay…" Swan looked worried, but she turned around and bent over again.
Paul pursed his lips and clenched his hands to stop himself from doing something stupid—like pulling her hips back towards him and thrusting against her like an overexcited puppy. God, what was wrong with him? Was he regressing back into a preteen with his first crush?
He took a large step away from her, keeping his distance. He needed to distract himself before he did something stupid. Fortunately, Sam provided him with it.
"Want to go watch something on the tv?" Sam asked, gesturing towards the living room.
"Sure," Paul said quickly, hurrying out of the kitchen before Emily could stop him.
Almost sprinting to the living room, Paul plopped down on the couch and let out a soft groan, dropping his head in his palms. He rubbed his eyes and thought of how beautiful she had looked blushing at his proximity. The imprint was clearly affecting her, too; now all he had to do was strike up a conversation with her, not look like an idiot while doing it, and tell her about the imprint. Maybe she would understand—no, what the fuck is wrong with you, dude? She thought that bastard leech was her 'soulmate'; there's no way she's going to believe us.
His wolf was right—he was an asshole, but he was also right. Swan wouldn't believe him, or she wouldn't want to believe him.
Paul was still trying to figure out what to do when Sam sat down beside him and interrupted his thoughts. "Want me to pull Emily out of there for a bit?"
"Why?" Paul immediately got defensive. He didn't like people helping him—it made him feel weak, and he hated it.
"Let me rephrase that," Sam said apologetically. "I'm pulling Emily out of there for a bit because my wolf needs to… reconnect."
"Is that what you old folks are calling it these days?" Paul taunted. He still did not like the fact that Sam was trying to help him out.
Sam scowled and slapped the back of Paul's head. "I'm barely twenty-three, you jerk."
"Whatever. I don't care what you get up to," Paul muttered, turning his gaze onto the television that was still turned off.
Sam hummed lightly before getting to his feet. He walked back towards the kitchen and a minute later, he returned with a giggling Emily thrown over his shoulder. She laughed and waved cheekily at Paul, who rolled his eyes.
Once Sam and Emily were gone up the stairs and the bedroom door had slammed shut behind them, Paul took a deep breath and stood up. He swallowed down his fear and made his way to the kitchen.
Here goes nothing.