Pairing: Old Quil/Molly Ateara
Rating: M, for some mild strong language
Genre: romance
Word Count: 500 - Seriously, no way can anybody give me shit about not being able to hit 500 words.
Prompt: Quote, "I don't need to be saved."
A Few More Years
"Lord above, what happened this time?" Sue grumbled as the pack barged in. Old Quil was slung between Seth and Embry, bitching up a storm.
"I told you I'm fine. I need to—"
"Sit down and shut your mouth. That's what you need to do," Molly Ateara huffed, shooing the boys out of the way and plumping a pillow for Quil in Harry's old chair.
"He was skateboarding, of all things, with the kids over at the community center again!" She threw her hands in the air. "It's his knee this time. I swear he won't be happy until he breaks both hips and I have to wait on him hand and foot the rest of our lives," she muttered for Sue's benefit.
"Stop your fussing, you old nag. I told you I just need to go phase. Twenty minutes and I'll be right as rain again," he griped, slapping away Sue's hands.
Molly lowered herself to the arm of the chair, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "We've talked about that. You're not a young wolf anymore. You weren't even a young wolf when we met. We don't know if you could survive phasing at your age." She tipped his chin up, gazing lovingly into his eyes as she whispered, "I don't want to lose you."
"Lose me?! Ha! I'm not as old and feeble as you think, woman!"
Young Quil made a noise as if to disagree, but Sue cut him off, "Not now, Quil. Don't you boys have something better to do?"
"No," they answered together, grinning.
Sue sighed. "There's slab pie in the fridge out in the garage. Try to leave a slice for—" There was a stampede to the garage, but at least they were gone. Sue made herself scarce for a few minutes, too.
"Quil?" Molly asked, "What's all this about? All these reckless stunts lately? Is it because of the pack? You miss … running with the wolves?"
"Miss… What? No! I— Damn it, Moll. I'm an old man, forty years your senior. You'll outlive me and that's fine, but … I worry, sweetheart." He cupped her chin, grimacing as he turned in his seat.
"Talk to me," she begged, holding his wrist, rubbing her thumb over the reassuring pulse under his weathered bronze skin.
"If I don't phase soon, I'll continue to age like other men, human men. You're young," he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, "and still so lovely. Too young to be a widow. Too young to spend thirty years alone when I'm gone."
"Oh, Quil," she threw her arms around his neck. "Growing old is part of the human experience. So what if I'm alone for some of it? It's inevitable. One of us will go first. I don't need to be saved from my natural path, but if it puts your mind at ease, go ahead and phase. I won't turn down a few more years."
"Thank you," he breathed, touching his lips to hers.