Work Text:
"How do I look?" Melissa asks, pushing a stubborn, gray-shot ringlet away from her face. "Is it obvious that I spent thirteen hours on my feet today?"
"Melissa," Talia says from the armchair in the corner of Melissa's bedroom, wry smile playing at her lips, "correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that you've met my children before. Many times, in fact."
"But not like this," Melissa responds, turning back towards her mirror and tugging at the neckline of her blouse. "That was when I was just Scott's mom."
"You were never just Scott's mother," Talia replies. "Don't sell yourself so short."
"You know what I mean," Melissa says, hoping vainly that Talia can't see (or smell) the flush decorating her cheeks. "This is just... completely different. Out of my depth."
"You're overthinking it." Talia rises to her feet with preternatural grace and crosses the room to wrap her arms around Melissa's waist and press her face into the side of Melissa's neck. Her nostrils flare subtly, but Melissa still feels it, still hears Talia's inhale.
Of all the things that come hand in hand with dating a werewolf, their penchant for scent-marking has been, surprisingly, one of the easier things to adapt to.
"You don't have to concern yourself with impressing my children," Talia says quietly, her lips hovering above Melissa's pulse. "They accepted you into our family the moment I told them about you."
Melissa thinks those are the sweetest words that have ever graced her ears.