Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Language:
English
Series:
Part 1 of Fine Pair
Collections:
Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
Stats:
Published:
2020-11-05
Words:
2,881
Chapters:
1/1
Kudos:
8
Hits:
1,453

A Fine Pair

Summary:

Sponsered by: Bigbucks
Fandom: Original Short Story (i think)
Rating: PG
Summary: A young girl waiting in a bar is intrigued by a handsome young man...but both turn out to be not what they seem...
Send all feedback to HuffPuff1228@yahoo.com
Submitted through http://groups.yahoo.com/group/SlashandFanFicLovers

Work Text:

 

 




A Fine Pair
by Danii

This is not my sort of place, I thought. I don't exactly know what my sort of place is; however, I'm guessing that hot chocolate and a large quantity of books would be involved in my sort of place, but, I thought as I looked around, it was unlikely that I would find someone who found my kind of place as their kind of place. Because I was here, in this place. A rattrap.

I'm not exactly sure what brought me here. Maybe it was because I was lonely. Maybe because all my friends say they go to bars all the time, and claim to have a great time. Or maybe it was because this was the only spot without a line, not to mention the lack of a check at the door. Technically, I wasn't supposed to be allowed in a bar, but I look a lot older than I am and I act a bit older as well. If I've learned anything, it's that if you don't look like a nervous teenager trying to get into a bar, they won't think you are one.

But why I stayed? I don't really know. Probably because I'm a bit stubborn. I got in here intending to have a fine night out, and I was staying till I got one, despite the fact that the moment I got in, I was swamped by at least four sleazy jerks who regarded me as fresh meat. I was staying, hoping against hope that someone decent would stop at my table. Yup, stubborn and naïve, the greatest combination for trouble there ever was. Not that I couldn't get tough and deal with it. A few pointed looks, a few direct comments. I've found that solves most things. It got rid of the first ones pretty quick. The only problem was that they kept coming. In fact, I could see another heading my way at that moment.

He wasn't anything special, not particularly handsome or interesting. His hair was deep brown, almost black, and slicked back like most of the other losers in this joint. I kept from wrinkling my nose, but I could smell the cheap cologne from here. He was tall and thin, but obviously muscled underneath the cheap suit from what I could see. His face was that of a predator, one with which I was familiar, and possessed what would be considered classic good looks, except for his nose, which appeared to have been broken at least twice. His eyes, which were a deep shade of green, were the feature I liked most. For some reason, they were the only things that looked honest on him. I didn't get to see anymore because he was getting close, and at that point, I tried to duck my head and hide behind my hair. It didn't work.

"Hello, sweetheart" he said in a sickly sweet, and above all, fake voice, "Whatcha doing in a place like this?"

"Trying to avoid people like you..." I answered. I will admit I wasn't exactly friendly, but to be perfectly honest, I had a good reason to be a bit rude.

"Aw, why would you be doin' that?" He asked with a grin. The jerk then proceeded to take the seat across the table from me. What nerve. I didn't even let my mind wander towards the things I ought to do to this reject. He wouldn't survive at least three of them.

"Because I'm sick of being hit on by cheap losers..." I grumbled. Again, not winning any competitions for Mrs. Cordiality, but considering the night I'd had, it was better then it could be.

His eyebrows went up at the statement. He didn't look surprised at the insult, though he probably got it later in the conversation most times. What can I say? I'm very blunt. It saves time, not to mention aggravation.

"So it seems you think I'm a cheap loser?" He asked; he was brave, I'll admit. He tried to move aside my hair to see my face as he said it, and most people run when I use the tone I was using on him.

........

I saved him the trouble and moved the hair myself, pushing the curly black strands behind my ears. His eyebrows went up again, though not as dramatically this time. I guess he liked what he saw. It's possible. I mean, I don't consider myself a raving beauty. I'm what people call interesting, or striking, or handsome. Not really movie-star material is what I'm getting at. I've got the almond eyes, but they're a particular hue of amber-yellow that most people find disturbing. My face is heart shaped, and my lips, while full and of a deep pink color, seem to be in a permanent smirk. That turns some people off. And my nose is definitely not a prize. I got it from my father. Sharp, aquiline. More a Roman general's nose than a model's. I'm sure there were much nicer looking girls in here somewhere. Yet, he was interested in me for some reason.

Since I hadn't responded, he repeated his question. "I said, you think I'm a cheap loser?"

"Yes" I said finally, restraining the growl in my throat by sheer willpower, "I do. Hell, you've got the uniform. The cheesy suit, the slicked hair, the cologne, the same old pickup lines... I mean, do they train and outfit you people?"

He laughed. Laughed. He either thought he could get around it, or he was genuinely amused by my assessment. I think it was a combination of the two.

"Well," he said spreading his hands in a "got me" gesture, "I hope they do. I mean, considering the monumental rejection you just gave me, I probably need extra help or something..."

I couldn't keep the smile off my face, and it bothered me. I hoped he hadn't seen it, but when I looked into his eyes, I saw the mirth there and knew he had. Damn. He put out his hand.

"Name's Joe. Joseph Cohen. Pleased to meet you..."

I looked at the hand. He kept it there. I looked at it again, determined not to shake it. He looked me straight in the eyes and silently urged me to take his hand. I wouldn't. He kept it there. Damn him. Damn him and his damned patience. I took his hand gruffly, but before I could shake it, he pulled it to his lips and kissed it lightly.

It wasn't unpleasant. I'll be honest. His lips felt soft and cool on my skin, and the kiss was sweet, almost pure in its own way. As if I was being introduced to a prince from a fairy tale and not some bum in a bar. That didn't keep me from yanking my hand out of his grasp as soon as possible though. Even if I did like it, I didn't want him to know that.

"And you?" He asked, ignoring my bad reaction to his chivalrous act. Damn him, but he was persistent.

"Luna." My lips were open so you could see my teeth, but I wasn't smiling.

"Luna?"

I snorted. "What? You want more?"

"Well, I was thinking a last name would be nice..."

"What, so you can stalk me?"

"No, just curious."

"Salycaon."

Again, the eyebrows rose. I was getting used to it now, even if it was a little annoying. "Nice name. Interesting..."

I glared at him. "Do you have a problem with my last name?"

"No," Joe replied, hurrying to assure me of the fact, "It's just a little...unusual."

Damn. The glare wasn't working like I'd hoped. It had worked on all the others. Two of them hadn't even stopped to grab their drinks. But no, this one just had to be brave. Gotta love my luck.

"Good" I was being a bi...well, a particularly unpleasant person. Yet he stayed. He was tolerant; I'd give him that. And, I finally said to myself, I guess I could spare some effort to be nice if he was going to all that trouble for me, being patient and all. I relaxed a bit, which he probably noticed. Predators notice such things. Then he asked me:

"So, what ARE you doing here, really?"

"Well," I said, my voice noticeably more pleasant, "I was lonely and this place had no line..."

"And no ID check..." he finished. Crap. Brains and balls. I didn't think they made that kind anymore.

"Yeah, I don't exactly qualify to be in here." I whispered, giving him a pointed look. Maybe if he realized I was too young, he would get lost.

No such luck. "Well, to be perfectly honest, it was just a lucky guess from a fellow who's been in a similar situation. You carry yourself well, I'll admit, and you have a confidence that most people your age lack..." Joe said it softly, not wanting to blow my cover, as it were, and his voice held a note of genuine respect that had been missing previous to this comment.

"And just how old are you?" I asked, unable to stop the nasty twinge in my own question. I was starting to like this guy's company, and that fact bothered me. It was like finding out that calamari was squid, though it was sort of the other way around.

He looked at me for a moment, and then blinked. Guess I surprised him with that one.

"Twenty." Joe replied, keeping his voice low. At first I didn't believe him. I mean, most guys aren't into that sort of sleazy stage until the early forties. But as I looked at him, really looked at him, I saw that he was telling the truth. That face, with it's twice-broken nose and good looks, had almost no wrinkles on it, and his actions, once examined a bit closer, were less adult then they had seemed at the time. The darkness had hidden his age, as had his eyes. They seemed so worn. They were the eyes of someone who had lived a long time, but wasn't very old. As if he'd seen a lot, perhaps too much, but had still retained part of his innocence, part of the child he'd been. I was intrigued.

"Seventeen."

"Younger then I thought..." he murmured.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Neither" he said quickly, "Just a fact."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Joe."

He looked surprised that I'd used his name. Pleasantly surprised. He smiled. In fact, he practically glowed with contentment for a moment, but stopped as he swiveled to look around the place. Funny, I had almost forgotten what a God-forsaken trash heap I was in. I guess company makes you disregard some things.

"Wanna get out of here, I mean, with me?"

I smiled at him, and the grin he'd gotten at my using his name widened. He wasn't such a bad guy, once he dropped the sleaze act and you really got to know him.

"Sure... Anywhere but here." I wasn't worried he'd try anything. I could take care of myself if he did, though.

"I know a place, you know, this bookshop down the block? There isn't any music, but the shop does have some really great hot chocolate..."

I managed to keep my tongue in my mouth and my chin off the floor. Fate was either playing the worst practical joke in the history of the planet, or shining on me like she'd never shone before. I prayed it was the latter.

"Wanna go?" He asked again. He seemed a little nervous, as if the question had uncovered him for some kind of geek. Thank the Good Lord, he wasn't kidding.

"I'd love to go to the book store with you, Joe. Sounds like a lot more fun than anything else I had planned tonight..."

Again, that genuine smile graced his face and seemed to light it from within. I liked how it made him look. More honest, more... I don't know, real. And it made him look far more handsome then any suit or hair oil. We made our way out, and I made a mental note to tell him that. The two of us walked for a bit, until I noticed the shadows in the alley we were walking by were moving in a sinister fashion.

Damn. Damn it all to Hell! Couldn't these thugs pick on some other person? My evening was finally picking up. Now, I'd have to save Joe, and I didn't know how he'd feel about his date to saving him. I'm not sure his male pride would be able to handle it. But more importantly, if he saw me taking care of things, he'd probably be more afraid of me than the thugs.

.........

It took me a moment to notice that he'd stopped. He looked around, scanning the area with a keen eye, the eye of a hunter. When that gaze passed me, I had an irrational urge to cover my neck, but dismissed it as paranoia. Dark streets and alleyways are really good at producing paranoia. His inspection stopped when he reached the alley, and with hands that possessed surprising strength, he picked me up and placed me behind him. Damn, he had to make this difficult.

The first guy, probably wanting to get the job done before we got help or something, jumped out a moment later, his knife a white slash in the darkness. He made it around two feet towards Joe when a huge black wolf slammed into him and tackled him to the floor.

That would be me. Oh, I forgot to mention that, did I? Well, if you didn't already guess, I'm a werewolf, or, if you want to be scientific, a lycanthrope. Yup, little ole' me. Have been since the day of my birth. No melodramatic story of a wolf attack, or a wolf lover, or anything. That's all a buncha crap anyway. It's a family thing, a pack thing. I was born and raised as a werewolf; it's what I am...

Anyway, after making sure the guy was knocked out cold, I turned to where Joe had been standing. I expected a shriek, a curse or two, or maybe some sort of frozen stance. But I found none of those. He wasn't there anymore. I thought for a second that he had hightailed it, but soon discovered that he was in the middle of the alley, fighting with the remaining muggers. He moved incredibly fast, his legs and arms a blur in the darkness even to my senses. I found out why when I saw his face.

His eyes were glowing, GLOWING, and his smile now had a pair of shiny white fangs in it. I couldn't believe it. He was a vampire. Well, that explained more than it didn't. But he was a vampire, my mind screamed. And he was fighting to save me! That wasn't right. I wasn't going to have him save me, and not do him the same courtesy. I mean, he was kinda hot, fangs or no fangs... So, I jumped into the fight.

It was done quickly. We didn't kill any of them, much to my relief. Just gave them a few bad knocks in the head, which wouldn't do any serious damage, but would leave them with quite a headache. After the last one fell, I trotted over to where my discarded dress lay, picked it up, then proceeded to the darkest part of the alley to become presentable. When I came out of the alley, I looked like any other teenager, though my hair was a bit mussed and the dress wasn't very well adjusted. I was in a rush; sue me.

"What a fine pair we make, eh?" I said when I got over to him.

"A werewolf?" He asked, as if by asking, it might turn out to be different.

"Yeah. A vampire?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"Indeed. What a fine pair..." replied Joe, but when he said it, it didn't have the sarcasm that I'd had. It sounded almost as if he thought it was true.

And maybe, I thought to myself, it was. I mean, he was a nice guy, even if he did have to drink blood, and anyone who loved hot chocolate and a good read had to be a decent hum-er...a decent person. And he was awful polite behind his loser come-ons. And funny. And sweet. And protective. I mean, if he could deal with the fact that I got furry every once in a while, I could deal with the fact that he drank a little red stuff. There have been relationships with greater differences then species, such as religious differences. And pet preference. And how to cook the eggs. This wasn't so hard to work around. It could happen.

I looked at him, and he looked at me. We both looked at the unconscious forms in the alley.

"Wanna see that bookstore?" He asked suddenly, his voice high-spirited, as if the whole episode hadn't happened.

"Sure."

Fin

Series this work belongs to: