Work Text:
[Interior: Uriah’s shop - Cher’s POV]
I watched Uriah from my spot in the guest room, I had been for the past few weeks I’d been staying here. There wasn’t much to do besides people watch now that I come to think of it.
Occasionally I managed to convince him to let me do something; clean up, restock, become a salesperson - you name it I’ve probably tried it. Other than that, I stayed holed up in that quaint little room, alone, which let anxiety-inducing thoughts about my pack run rampant and I’d do anything to stop thinking those thoughts, for fear of possibly manifesting it.
Now, do I believe in manifestation? No, but paranoia can change that.
The only thing to keep my mind occupied was the sparse conversations between me and her kin, and watching them strut around while on the clock. I’d picked up on some things when ogling them, so my time wasn’t being completely wasted.
Uriah was a proficient worker; quick on the floor, a charismatic charm when talking to customers and wrapping up orders like second nature. He also tends to sway his hips when he walks, which also catches the eye of customers, simply put — they were flawless in their craft — pretty too.
Not that I was looking at him like that; romantically, I mean. It was just an observation, one of a character analysis, not scouting for a mate. Would she even make a good mate? No - well - Not really.
Why? she’s a vampire first and foremost; and I’ve got some issues with them, plus she’s a silver-tongued cheat who weasels people out their money.
Did those people try stealing from them and just so happen to get caught? Yeah but—
I’m not sounding very convincing, am I?
Truthfully, they’re nothing I want in a mate. Back when I was younger, I’d dream about what my partner might be like; the standard I’d set for them preemptively.
They’d have to be super kind; the kind of person who would give up the shirt on their back for someone else, strong willed, firm on their morals, quick witted and wise. Loving in their own right; protective, territorial even - because I was and I didn’t want it to be one-sided, running the risk of my mate leaving me ‘cause I was being ‘too much’ or ‘too clingy’.
I was just a very hands on person - the type to sink my teeth into what was mine - that tends to happen when you lose so much that was once so close.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about mates right now - not in this mindset I’m stuck in - I’m possessive enough over my pack as is and adding someone like Uriah, who has no experience in our werewolf customs, into the mix was a boiling pot of bad decisions.
But it was hard.
Watching him move around the shop, keeping their posture straight and letting their body maneuver around elegantly. The tasteful clicks of his boots to the wooden floor and the seamless flow of that fabric hooked on her elbows added to her graceful nature.
All the material they wore fit them so well; the sleeveless v-line shirt, for instance, emphasized the broadness of her shoulders from under the fishnets - as well as other things in that vicinity - the ink embedded into their skin followed the curves of her muscles; the snake curling around her arms was fun to look at too.
Every detail on him was hypnotic in a way, from the gold bottoms of his shoes to his flamboyant hat lined with gold on the rim sitting on his head. The emerald gems that clung to the gold clips in her locs looked amazing when they caught the light just right, it really accentuated his face; flawless warm-toned skin, well-kept facial hair and that cute little fang that poked out - especially his eyes.
Good gods, her eyes were something else.
Whether I liked her or not, I couldn’t deny how pretty their eyes were; so expressive and alluring. I had half the mind to question if he was some sorta temptress when I first saw them.
The lazy lidding of his eyes held a loose glow to them - at least they looked to be glowing to me - holding intrigue in the cradle of the magenta color. His brow raised, matching the high rise set of her cheekbones; lips pursed a little, looking so…soft and gleaming with a natural sheen.
I was enraptured by them. Even if I hadn’t been chased down by those damn vamps, I’m sure my heart still would’ve been racing from that intense gaze they kept me still at.
In that moment it was only me and her, kinda like right now; given how those gorgeous eyes were now leering at me from her place at the front desk.
She was leaning her elbows against the sturdy oak wood, keeping her lower half a good distance away from it - most likely to accommodate for their height - one of their legs bent to have the point of their shoe pressed against the floor.
Uriah was holding her cheek across his knuckles, leaving his other arm to idly lay across the table; shoulders pushed up and a little forward. She gave me a curious look, the same raised brow and pursed lips - except now they moved, mouthing out the words you good? - I gave them a nod, feeling a weird sensation in my stomach from getting caught staring.
He looked me up and down slowly; analyzing my leaned back state and crossed legs on the bed from in the room across from him. The gaze didn’t seem hostile or even mildly threatening but I can’t help the shiver running up my spine, I resisted the urge to squirm under their analytical stare and instead looked away.
I don’t think I like how that made me feel; all weak and vulnerable.
~
[Interior: Uriah’s shop - Uriah’s POV]
That damn werewolf is a complicated one.
In all my years of living, I’ve been able to read people in-and-out like a kids book but they were an entirely different character. From their masking emotions to their silent oaths, it was damn near impossible to crack them.
I watched them shy away from me - bit of a hypocrite if they can’t handle being stared at when they do little but the same to me - it was insane how many times I’ve caught them stealing glances and just straight up checking me out. It was almost cute how lost they get when admiring me, too in their head to see me also watching them.
They had this look on them when they were analyzing something; their mouth would part a little, exposing the tiniest glimpse of their teeth in the midst and their hazy eyes would lose their color behind the bleeding of their pupils.
Their eyes reminded me of an eclipse when it happened, which I found funny considering they were supposed to be more tied to a full moon and having the sun involved at all was oxymoronic - even for me - yet, it felt symbolic in a way, considering how they were a bit of an oxymoron themself.
Their height massing damn-near leagues over my own yet they slouch and make themselves look smaller when talking to me or my kin, being one of the biggest ones. A big bad wolf turning to a mother hen at the slightest bit of inconvenience.
I sighed and tilted my head at ‘em, seeing them fidgeting with the excess cloth from their missing arms sleeve. They looked so open and on display yet I still couldn’t decipher much about them; everything falling to a blur when they gave me those stupid puppy dog eyes.
Can’t help but wonder if being a werewolf makes the look that much more effective, or if that was just a byproduct of them as a whole.
I looked away and moved to stand up properly, I push some of my locs back as I eyed the darkening sky from the big windows of the shop before switching to the clock resting on one of the walls; 11:32, almost about time for me to close up. I mulled over what to do after the doors are locked.
There’s always a chance to get some more answers outta my current guest, my kin’s boy toy has been itching for answers and I can’t deny that I have been too. There’s also the fact that I need to make sure Zachary isn’t running around like a—
I paused, spotting Cher staring at me again from my peripheral - a coy expression making up their face - their eyes did that little thing they did. I’d reckon that if I looked hard enough I might even be able to see a small glimmer of a blush, the heat emanating off them would have to suffice for now.
They probably started looking at me when I moved - I turn my head away and act like I can’t feel the painfully dotting look their throwing at me - they picked up on those little things; a butterfly could flutter its wings behind them and they’d know it still.
They were attentive, I could say that much for sure - not even a poker face could hide that savior complex of theirs - that was about the extent of how much they let show and that was all subconscious.
A grumble escapes from the back of my throat as I eyed the decorations and merchandise strung up on the walls, not even fully focusing on it as my mind shuffles in records of them like an undercover detective pushes discreet files to another.
They shared a semblance to a bear; big, menacing, protective and fluffy. Except their fluffiness was more internal than external, if what Zachary said was true, about their chest being tough stuff, was it? I shake my head at that kids decorum; that chest pat seemed completely impulsive considering how he barely acknowledged he did it at all, normally keeping his hands to himself or apologizing for touching them without asking first.
I haven’t exactly been close enough to Cher to get a real grasp on what he meant by it. We kept touching to a minimum, a silent agreement amongst us both due to their recent escapades and my overall preferences, in strangers at least.
The most that’d happen would be accidental brushing up against each other. They tended to run warm, a sharp contrast to my vampirism, and their hands were calloused to hell and back; surprisingly they were still soft. Hm, maybe soft isn’t what I’m looking for.
I take notice in the fact that the clock is racing to strike midnight so I make my rounds to close up.
Gentle, that’s the one. They were gentle with their touches; always lighter than a feather and never lingering, but there’s times where it does. The unconscious drag of their fingers to my waist when they try to move around me were the ones; I never realize it in the moment, us both being too stuck in the work mindset to be fully aware of anything outside of our respective activities, tunnel vision was a funny thing.
Only after they’ve left does it make itself apparent in the form of a tingly sensation that coils around the area, sending vibrations riveting throughout my body in faint shivers. It catches me off guard so badly that I can’t focus for a good minute after it’s happened, no matter how hard I try to get back to my work right after, it’s like my thoughts just garble together in a heaping mess of touch starvation.
I sigh as I shut my doors and lock up, choosing to put the conversation of my touch repulsion on the back burner. Instead enforcing the wards I put up prior to signal for intruders; a noise pitches the sound waves, most akin to a dog whistle, one that only I’m supposed to hear and yet Cher’s managed to pick up on it.
Those heightened senses of theirs are probably the thing to blame for not budging during questioning; they could probably smell the intention radiating from me, not having a good enough comprehension to point out exactly what it means but enough to know that they wanted no part in it.
As mad as I wanna be about it, I just can’t bring myself to be; not with how they mimic a kicked puppy when backed into a corner. I cross my arms after double checking that the wards were good.
I think my kin have been making me too soft for my own good.
The clicking of my shoes ring true as I make way back to Cher and before I know it I’m rounding up on their door; my arms fell out of their interlocked state to drag against the doorway, not too far from how they graze their own against my waist. I shove the untamed curls of something a little too intimate as deep down as they will go - I don’t know what they mean and I don’t care to find out.
Peeking my head in brings their doe-eyed attention back to me; exhaustion clearly weighing them down, and I don’t even realize that I purse my lips at them. Staring at them eye-to-eye is becoming more and more difficult as these days pass.
’Cause they keep looking at me like they love me.