Once again Wren was awoken by a rather loud, rude and upsetting noise. It almost sounded like whipped cream, hissing. Shifting awake, she found herself underneath her blankets in her bed, the afternoon sun glaring through her window. Quickly snapping to full attention, she sat up, trying to find where Erik had gone. Last time she had woken up, only about four hours earlier, the apartment was under threat of toaster-induced fire.
Shifting to get up, Wren hissed in pain and paused. Bringing her hands up, she finally noticed several dark, puffy bruises encircling her wrists. Damn, it hurt when she moved them.
The sound was coming from her bathroom where yellow light spilled forth like artificial sunlight. Rubbing her eyes Wren trotted over to peer in, half terrified of what she would find.
Erik's clever, long fingers were running over a can of shaving crème, testing the nozzle as he read the instructions. He apparently hadn't noticed her yet as he shook it vigorously with both hands. Wren watched amusedly as he pressed the switch with his thumbs, thick frothy cream shooting out on the mirror.
With one finger he scraped a bit off and held it under his nose, sniffing it experimentally.
Unable to resist the temptation, Wren crept a little closer, crouching down and tensing to pounce.
"BWAAA!" she shrieked loudly, leaping out from the doorway at the unsuspecting man. Erik jumped in surprise, his finger covered in shaving cream shoving sidewise across his nose, leaving a white smudge on his face. Wren snorted in laughter at his incredulous face and his wide staring eyes. He looked like a deer whom had just gotten shot and didn't know why.
"Oh, my gawd! That was hilarious as all hell! You jumped so bad!" she laughed in a very unladylike manner, holding onto the towel rack as she giggled. Erik's stare of surprise turned to one of annoyed accusation, his blue eyes narrowing at her.
"What was that for?" he demanded as he wiped a bit of the stuff off. Wren choked a girlish snort and came over closer. Reaching up before she could ponder her actions, she wiped off the rest of the cream with her fingers, the pads in her thumbs brushing over his lips.
"That's what you get for playing with my shaving cream," she replied lightly, her cheeks slightly blushed. His expression dropped for the moment, watching her intently as she finished cleaning up, wiping her hands on his t-shirt. Jolts of electricity ran through him as her hands ran mindlessly over his chest.
With a self-satisfied sigh, Wren turned and left to the kitchen, wanting at least one cup of coffee before her class.
"I've got to go to my college course later this afternoon so you'll be here alone for a little bit. Just don't burn the house down, okay?" she called out to him as she fixed her cup, unsure if he followed her. Taking a quick sip, she went to the refrigerator and yanked it open. "I'm going to fix you something to eat in case you get hungry. You allergic or picky or anything?"
After bending down to check the expiration date on a can of pickles Wren stood up and jumped out of her skin. Somehow Erik had managed to sneak up, next to the open door and silently stand there while she yelled like an idiot. He leaned on the counter, his hands clasped behind him, a small smirk on his lips.
Wren glared at him in disbelief as her heart slid back from her throat to its proper place in her ribcage. After a moment she raised her eyebrow.
"Better tell me now before I make you something that'll kill you on accident…maybe."
"I am not allergic to any foods nor am I terribly 'picky'. As for the 'anything', I am not sure considering that is just too broad of a topic," he replied in his silky smooth voice, putting her in a slight stupor at the breathtaking timbre and sound. Privately she collected herself enough to realize he was being condescending again.
"Hah, funny. You are just too much," she muttered grumpily as she turned back to grabbing sandwich materials. Loaded arms full of condiments, sliced meats and cheeses, she kicked the door closed and went to a semi clean counter where she dumped the various bottles and packages.
"Alright, I've got pastrami, turkey, roast beef, um, bratwurst. What do you want?"
"Pastrami."
"Mustard? Mayonnaise? Ketchup?" she continued, pulling out a loaf of bread from a cabinet and untwisting the opening. She set them down on a plate before looking up at the silent man. He looked confused, as if trying to search whatever massive dictionary he had in his mind for what those might be.
"Hello? You okay?"
"Oui. What is ketchup?" he asked blatantly, seeming thoroughly stumped. What was worse was that he seemed completely horrified that he had no idea what the condiments were.
Picking up the ketchup she opened it and squeezed it enough so that the thick, red stuff dribbled out a bit.
"Here, taste it. This one is the ketchup," she explained, holding out the bottle to him. A bit timidly, Erik wiped off a small amount and brought it to his nose. She watched amusedly as he stretched out his tongue and tested it. A more than slightly disgusted expression crossed his face, causing the deformed side to crease.
"Please, not that one."
"Yeah, it's only good with fries or something. Try…mayonnaise. It's pretty good on sandwiches."
Same procedure with better results.
"I know of that one. Only a little of that one."
"Yay for Miracle Whip. Okay, now this one is mustard. I actually really like this one," she wiped the yellow paste off the nozzle and held it out to him on her finger. She expected him to take it from her onto his finger to taste but apparently that wasn't in his mind. Gently but firmly, Erik took her hand and brought it closer, taking a step nearer to her. The thought of struggling flittered through her mind but she felt like she was before a flying bullet.
In no way shy or timid, he kept his intense green-flecked eyes fixed on hers as he brought her hand up to his face. She jumped slightly as if mildly electrified as he slid her finger into his mouth, the heat of it startling her. Her lungs didn't seem to want to work as she felt his warm, wet tongue tasting and sliding about her finger, scraping off the salty-sweet mustard.
Finally he let go of her appendage, watching with satisfaction as she stared at him somewhat dumbly. Like a cat, he licked his lips and smiled a bit demonically.
"Mm, ye yes, definitely that one."
A nervous laugh broke from Wren as she turned away from him, her hands trembling. In a jumpy fidgety way she made him a sandwich and stuck it in a bag. Erik leaned on the counter next to her, watching in a very mellow, satisfied way.
"Uh, okay, well, your, um, sandwich is in there. There's coffee still and soda in the fridge and…uh…what?" she rambled distractedly as she put the food back. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he came ever closer, his height intimidating her as she spoke.
She yelped like a kicked dog when he reached out and grasped her hands in his. Silently, she watched him as he looked down at the angry bruises on her wrists with soft self-condemnation, thumbs brushing over them softly. His brows ceased and the ends of his mouth turned in anger at the nights actions. Finally, he looked up to her with a sad, sincere look of apology. Wren was about to tell him to knock it off, when he yet again stunned her into silence. Lifting her hands to his mouth, Erik kissed the backs of them.
Staring up at him in a confused, dazed way she opened her mouth to speak several times and ended up trying to speak with her now freed hands. Waving them in front of her like a mute girl who forgot sign language she scooted about him, fixated by his apologetic smile.
"S-Shower!" Wren managed to squeak out before turning to run, or rather, stumble towards the bathroom. Maybe there she could collect whatever wits she had left.
Wren packed up her books, grudgingly glaring at her enormous botany manual as the other students chattered and filed out. Looking up, she found herself alone in the lab. All of the glittering instruments were set for the next day or put away and the black sinks clean. Shrugging out of her white lab coat, Wren went over to a large walk-in closet near the display of animals in preserving liquids to put it away.
"Okay, back home to Erik then, for an hour or so at least," she mumbled to herself as she grabbed her backpack. It was completely covered in bumper-stickers from a nearby hippy store, parading clever or witty sayings on mankind's stupidity.
She almost absolutely hated leaving him there. The first hour of class had been alright but as the third hour rolled about she was a nervous wreck. After three hours he could have killed himself with the electric stove or God knows what else.
Considering he was a fully grown man, Wren felt a little silly being so concerned about him. Sure, he nearly set the house on fire and suffocated himself with shaving cream but anyone could do that on accident, right? No, on second thought, they don't.
"Who's Erik?" an annoying, girly voice interrupted her thoughts. Wren jumped about five feet in the air, dropping her bag with a heavy flood to the linoleum. Whirling about, hands clenched halfway in front of her, she spotted her pseudo-friend Janette in the doorway.
Blowing a sigh of tensed relief, Wren gave her a sharp look as she reached for her bag. Why did everyone have to scare the living shit out of her?
"No one," she replied to the approaching woman, her tone clearing showing her reluctance to talk about it. Janette flipped her long, obviously dyed blonde hair over her shoulder, her straight bangs hanging just above her sparkling Barbie-doll eyes. She wore a low cut princess shirt with gold sparkles in the shape of lips and tight jeans with high heels.
Janette was more of an annoyance Wren had learned to deal with over the last year than a friend. For one thing, she was stupid. The only reason she was in college was for pre-school education and that was only for if her stripper career failed. For a long time she attempted involving her in her classes but so far…no. Just no. Also, her bleach must have addled her brain and procured this obsession with tiny 'cute' things.
"Apparently, it's someone," Janette retaliated in what she must have considered clever way as she jumped up to sit on the counter. Wren gave her a hidden glare as she picked up a scalpel from a tray and began cleaning her nails.
"You know, that particular scalpel was in a frog's egg sack today," she remarked lightly, swinging her bag on her shoulder and heading for the door. Janette's generically pretty face crumpled in disgust. Throwing the scalpel down on the tray as she slid down, the blonde followed her.
"Did you finally get a boyfriend?" she inquired in a gossipy voice as she caught up. Wren rolled her eyes in annoyance, walking in a hopefully dismissal way towards the exit. "You did! Oh my gawd, you did!"
Wren winced horribly at her high-pitched squeal and the idiotic clapping that followed. Every time she conversed with this particular woman, she ended up with a head ache and an appreciation for gags.
"No, no I didn't."
"Oh, don't lie to me!" she wagged a reproachful, pink painted finger at her, winking. "You can't lie to your BFF. You're dating again."
"I don't date, remember? Most men end up running away, screaming something like 'the power of Christ compels you', within five minutes of knowing me."
"So what's wrong with him?" Janette continued, ignoring her statement. "How come you won't talk about him? Is he really ugly? You always seem to pick some ugly ones. Not like my Travis."
"He is not ugly. He's actually very handsome," Wren replied a bit haughtily, her pace picking up as she shoved through the doors. Janette skipped ahead of her, hands clasped behind her as she walked backwards, grinning.
"So…there is a man. I knew it. What's he like? Is he really hot? Where did you meet him?" when there was no forth coming answer Janette narrowed her blue eyes and grinned. "Is he huge? Is that why you're with him?"
Wren gagged a little in surprise and to her luck she ended up choking on misplaced spit. Janette's laughter rang annoyingly in the clammy, close air. Reaching her Jeep, she swung open the backseat and dumped her bag unceremoniously inside.
"I-I don't know. I haven't done that yet. I wait a little while longer than a week to do that," she replied snippily, then added under her breath, "Unlike some."
Janette swung her hair over her shoulder again, that fake Miss America grin still plastered in place. She watched as Wren got into the driver's seat and turned on the engine.
"So when do I meet him?" she hollered over the motor as she pulled out. Wren heard but put her hands up and shook her head, mouthing 'I can't hear you'. And with that she sped off, nearly clipping a black Sudan in her haste. Looking back she spotted the dumb idiot yelling louder at her rear bumper.
"Damn, she is fucking stupid!"
"Erik? Erik, I'm home!" Wren called out as she closed the door behind her, locking it in the process. Glancing about she found the apartment actually cleaner. Any garbage was picked up and all her paintings were set in neat piles on the table. Paints, brushes and charcoals were cleaned and set in cups along with several sets of clean sheets. From the kitchen she smelled something miraculously spicy and heady along with low humming. The only light on was the kitchens, its golden glow spilling into the dining room.
"Erik?"
Coming into the room where he apparently was, Wren felt an overwhelming wash of spices and warmth come over her. Did she even have those kind of herbs in her pantry?
Standing over the stove with a large spoon, Erik stirred the contents of a pot carefully, his clever blue eyes analyzing his work. She heard his voice underneath the bubbling of stew, rumbling a lovely lullaby, as he worked.
For a good few minutes she watched him, as he moved about, grabbing spice jars and sniffing them. His lean body, still in the pajamas she gave him, shifted and stretched easily and gracefully. She found herself staring at his large strong hands as they tenderly worked.
The heat from the stove was getting to her as she stood in the doorway, in her large jacket with its stains and broken zipper. Reaching up she grabbed her hair and began twisting it into a bun at the back of her head. Her movement grabbed his attention.
"Ah, you are home. Good, dinner is almost ready," Erik greeted, his voice warm in the simple joy of cooking. Wren shoved a pencil from her pocket through the messy bun, pinning it to her skull and shrugged out of her jacket.
"It smells really good. What is it?" she complimented in amazement, coming up beside him. She felt him look at her studiously, could feel his eyes taking in her black turtle neck with its sleeves up at her elbows and her shabby jeans and tennis shoes. She must look like a slob, Wren realized, with a stained pencil in her hair.
Ignoring him, she leaned over the stove a little bit to peer at the contents of the pot. A thick stew, the color of tomato soup, swirled heavily and bubbled, vegetables and herbs roiling to the surface. She didn't even know that she had vegetables at home to be frank. She must have leaned over a bit too much because she shifted her hand on the edge of the stove and a searing pain erupted in her fingertips.
"OW! FUCK!" she howled sharply, wrenching her hand away and shaking it. Blowing on the tips, she wasn't aware that Erik had disappeared. Suddenly, she felt him behind her again but she didn't have to time to react.
Strong arms came about her, the hands grasping her burnt one gently. Wren froze in his hold as his even but concerned breath blew tenderly into her ear, sending shivers through her. The heat from his chest radiated upon her back but she fell back against it almost unwillingly.
"You should be a bit more careful, mademoiselle. Especially considering your timeless grace," he murmured into her ear in a taunt. Wren frowned a little and considered bitching something back until he put a wet washcloth on her fingertips. A tiny, anguished hiss escaped her gritted teeth and she attempted wriggling away.
But Erik held her fingers tightly, in front of them, trapping her with his arms.
"Now, now calm down. It's only a minor burn," he reassured her soothingly.
"Oh, can it, Erik," she snapped playfully with no real venom. He chuckled into her hair before letting go of her hands. Turning her about to face him, he put his left arm about her while his right retrieved the spoon. Wren looked up at him curiously, her unhurt hand clutching the cloth to her other.
Erik brought a spoonful of stew to his lips, blowing gently at the profuse steam. She found herself mesmerized by the way they pursed and how the tendons in his neck tensed with each breath. Abruptly she realized his hair was combed back neatly, as if he was trying to appease her. Why would he bother doing that when he was seducing her covered in sand and half unconscious?
"Now, try it," he instructed, holding the spoon to her mouth. For a moment she considered rebelling for the sake of it but decided against it. Timidly she sipped it, rolling the rich, exotic taste about her tongue.
"Wow, you made this? It's amazing," she complimented unwittingly, staring at him in shock. Erik smiled a bit sardonically, a lock of light brown hair falling across his forehead.
"Just because I look like a vagabond does not mean that I cook like one," he replied in a laugh. Through his arms and his chest she felt the rumble of his amusement. Wren rolled her eyes at him and considered tweaking his nose before realizing that he was studying her again.
"What?" she asked warily, wishing he'd say something or let go. Erik's brow was knitted in thought as he looked over her expression. Slowly but surely he reached up with his right hand and wiggled loose the pencil in her hair, watching her every move. Wren felt her abused hair fall about her shoulders, wishing it was cleaner. Instantly, he began to dig his fingers in her hair, apparently fascinated by the color. Turning the locks over in his fingers in the kitchen light, he seemed utterly mystified at the red gleams in the brown.
"What?" she demanded again, becoming a bit paranoid at his patient yet focused movements. Erik must have noticed for he stopped his fingers and looked at her fixedly. A small smile grew on his lips and he tightened his arm about her.
Wren was on the verge of freaking out and wiggling away to her Jeep. Again, he must have realized for he leaned in and made it worse. Wren froze in place, her eyes watching him in slight terror.
Softly, Erik's lips pressed against the side of her face, his breath blowing across her cheekbone. A shudder coursed through her frame as he kissed her cheek which began to boil in a blush. It felt like a wonderful kick in the kidneys and she felt her air escaping in one huge whoosh.
As quickly as it happened, the lips moved away and Erik backed away a respectful distance before turning back to the stew. Wren felt her legs wobble dangerously under her and her heart pounded unnecessarily. She sidled a couple of feet to the side, clutching her hand still although she had forgotten it. Erik continued where he left off before she came in, stirring the pot with a pleasant smile on his face.
Stumbling on her own feet, Wren backed into the hallway before heading to her room, vaguely horrified. Did that really happen? Did he just kiss her? A small giddy grin crept onto her as she crlosed her door and went to her closet for her uniform.
"I have to leave for a while. I'll be back tonight after work," Wren said as she took her bowl to the sink, trying to sound calm despite her ricocheting heart. It hadn't stopped hammering around in her chest cavity all evening, making her breath short and her head light. Dinner had been slightly awkward, mostly on her part, but pleasant. Erik on the other hand seemed immensely pleased with himself, eyes soft and that same damn smile on him the entire time.
"When?" Erik asked as he followed her in with his own bowl. Wren gave him a weak smile before shrugging faintly. Was he getting protective of her now? She was a big girl.
"Around one or so."
"In the morning?"
"Yep. I work in stocking and that doesn't happen till about 11:30."
"I will wait for you."
"Really?" she asked in utter surprise, staring at him. Erik raised his expressive eyebrows and nodded. Turning a shade pink, she focused on the bowl she was washing. The damn bruises were still so vivid on her wrists. "Wow. Um, no it's alright. Don't worry."
"I will wait anyway."
Wren wanted to argue so badly but at the same time she wished he would wait for her until the wee hours of the morning. A ghost of the kiss he planted on her cheek came to life and she shuddered at the memory. Stepping out of the kitchen, she searched vacantly for her uniform apron and her thoughts. She felt her expression soften and she stood up straight from where she was bending down to pick up her work gloves. Without really meaning to, she turned her vacant gaze towards him. Her small smile must have startled him and pleased him for he grinned and came closer to grab her hands again.
"I will wait for you, mademoiselle,for were you to come in while I slept, you might be dead within that same moment," he said softly, with a delicate tone of sarcasm and severity. Wren felt her face blanch a little but let it slide by.
"Fine then, you brat, you can wait," she conceded with a small laugh. Her humor died in her throat as she looked up at his smiling face. Besides the first time she had met him, his deformity hadn't bothered her. It was like it didn't exist. Perhaps it was his strong, undeniable character or the mere fact he listened, but his face didn't matter.
The way his smile slid off his lips gradually hardly registered in her mind. Vaguely she wondered if she was upsetting him with her staring. Her thoughts were affirmed when he scowled impressively, getting ready to walk off and ignore her and her rude staring. Before he could she did something daring before thinking.
Reaching up slowly but surely she cupped the side of his face with her palm, her fingers brushing the mottled, soft skin firmly. A look of half horrified, half amazed shock spread over him and he froze like a statue under her touch. Against her wrist she felt him release a tense, whispery breath, tickling her.
Before she would lose her courage or panic, Wren stepped closer, willingly into his personal space. A bit dumbly she realized that it was he who always invaded space. Perhaps he needed to be approached once in a while.
Rising up on her tiptoes she pressed her cheek against his normal, warm one, her lips right next to his ear. His skin felt smooth next to hers and radiating heat. She could feel the muscles in his jaw shifting.
Wren licked her dry lips and felt him tighten up even more.
"Thank you. No one has ever offered to wait for me. Thank you," she whispered softly, feeling her heart fluttering and doing cartwheels in her chest. Beneath her palm she felt his jaw loosen and felt his throat swallow a terse gulp of air. Erik turned his head a bit firmly against hers and his arms carefully snaked about her waist to give her a tender hug.
"You are welcome, mademoiselle."
Wren had been somewhat afraid that he would reject her touch but when the embrace came, she was glad. The arms pressed her a bit close to him, just enough to get an appreciation for his form. He was firm, warm and smelled a lot like something she would gladly eat. A bit embarrassed, she banished the thought as he let his arms tighten.
A tiny sigh of relief escaped Wren before she pulled away a little bit. Before she moved out of range she gathered the courage and quickly kissed his cheek, right at the corner of his tempting mouth. He must have been utterly shocked for he let go and backed up a little.
For a moment, Wren was afraid she had done something wrong. Erik touched the spot where she kissed him, his eyes soft and wide in blatant surprise, the amazing grey-blue of his irises seeming to gleam oddly in the light.
A strange memory echoed through his brain like a symphony, blaring yet somehow soothing in its loudness. It had been something real at one time; something that had changed him forever. Christine…she…she had kissed him but…
Upon realizing the truth of his recollection, Erik tried to shake the cold fog of memory. Gazing at the woman in front of him, Wren, he spotted her semi-terrified face and smiled softly, a bit sadly.
"Only one person has ever kissed me willingly and it was a lie," he mused halfway to himself. He looked down at his feet and then at the dark hallway, his brows furrowing deeply as he thought. "Chr-She did to get her love and leave me. After everything I did. After all of it…"
His deep, thick voice died off as he remembered, a dark pain stinging his heart like a forceful syringe. Wren shuffled a little, shifting from one foot to the other in shame, face pale.
"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
Erik's unfocused gaze fixed on her again and he seemed to struggle to not be lost in thought. Slowly he shook his head, trying to clear the painful memories away like cobwebs. A lock of his brown hair fell loose and fell in his face.
"No, it is alright. I liked it," he admitted abruptly, as if he was realizing his true thoughts as he spoke them. Giving her one more strange but soft smile he turned and disappeared into the bathroom, quietly closing the door and turning on the water.
Wren felt like tearing her lips off at that moment. What the hell was wrong with her? What was she doing? When would she learn? At the same time she felt a little giddy again. Did he mean it?