Chapter Text
Peter Hale didn't quite understand Omegas. Or, at least, the human kind. They were unpredictable and seemed to concern themselves with nothing but social standing and personal gain. Though, everyone possesses the potential to be predictable once you know them long enough.
Omegas of the human variety seemed to latch on to him like bees to sugar water.
Except for one, who treated him—ironically enough—like a human for the most part.
Her name was Rowan.
Rowan; Popular Anglicized form of the Gaelic Ruadhán (little red-haired one).
She might not have been the owner of fire red locks, but the name was represented strongly in the flush that crawled from her ears, down her neck, blossoming across the bridge of her nose before eventually joining the scarlet hues together at the apples of her cheeks.
She was like something from a fairytale.
Dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin, full lips, and a petite frame.
Something about the way she looked at him felt purifying, cleansing in a sense. Her eyes never held any hints of malice. She almost looked like an angel.
He completely felt like a pervert.
He didn't know why he was drawn to the innocence that radiated from her in waves. She was like a ray of sun that cut through the perpetual fog shrouding the usually silent man.
Which is why he found himself going on a 'random' trip to the second-closest grocery store, standing in line behind a teeth-grindingly dull old woman who seemed to move with lead in her bones. Maybe it was the anticipation, but he couldn't imagine a more mind numbing way of spending the morning than with a bag of chips, two packs of gum, a box of cookies, a sack of peaches, and a random red box that he'd overheard a clerk murmuring about having to punch the code in manually last week, in hand. And yet,
"Mister Hale?"
Peter snapped to attention at the sound of his name being called. He briefly considered pretending he hadn't heard the clerks rushed murmur, if only to hear her call for him again, but the nagging three year old whose mother seemed stressed beyond belief began throwing candy out of the basket, compelling him to get a move on, so instead he decided to step up and pay.
"Are you alright?" She asked, doe gaze fixed on scanning each item and unknowingly showcasing long lashes that fluttered like a butterflies wings as her busy glance darted back and forth.
"Yes, I'm quite fine. Just a bit... Distracted." He hummed out, willing her gaze to meet his.
The feeling of success thrummed in veins as dark brown irises met sea blues.
A fire fanned across her face whilst she took her time to punch in the serial number of the peaches. She could do it without looking. He didn't know if that revelation was due to his frequent visits or if she was just that good at her job.
He leaned towards the latter.
"Distracted?" She murmured, the left corner of her bottom lip finding refuge between her teeth as she seemed to think. "By Doris? What, you finally found out she visits almost as often as you do? I could get you her number. I hear she's single," she rambled on.
Rowan had only started the light teasing about a month ago as opposed to the curt conversation she held on the best of days. He eventually assumed she was afraid to speak freely in her work environment despite how friendly they were outside of work. In Peters eyes it was a sign that she was growing comfortable around him in a public space. The notion made him light up.
"You could tell? I just love the way that glaringly bright green cotton dress hugs her curves," He said, sparing a glance towards the elder in reference as she hobbled her way out of the store.
"Obviously," she snorted, scanning the chips before glancing down at the red box, a slightly puzzled look coming across her features. "All the men sit next to her at bingo, I hear she's pretty feisty. Some say she even goes as far as touching shoulders with the especially cute ones."
The words were innocent enough, she seemed to have spoken them without thinking as she went through an index of available stock before finding the boxes number. It didn't fail to make his inner alpha preen, despite her shyness. Or maybe even because of her shyness.
"Ah, so you think I'm an especially cute man?" He teased, grabbing his bag as she went through the routine of printing out his receipt.
"Fifteen sixty-seven, please." She murmured, gaze down as she put the money away. The tips of her ears were a bright red, a giveaway to her embarrassment.
He extended the money, crisp bills in his hand and change resting underneath the paper. She gently accepted the money, her hand subconsciously lingering in his palm as she retrieved the change.
With that he bid her a farewell before making his way out of the store.