Work Text:
You shift uncomfortably in your seat.
How the hell did you get onto a private road?
You're not tired, but when you prod your eyes there is sleep.
You've got to reverse out slowly. As it's narrow. Quietly because you don't need the attention and the hassle of a privileged asshole coming out and calling the cops.
Are there any other black girls in these houses? Or are you the only one around? Shit.
"Okay, relax" You say to yourself.
The patter of rain calming you down. Your phone distracts you. Leaning to look at your phone, you reverse way too quickly........
"Fuuuuuuuck!" Aerion snarls, as the car reverses into him.
He instantly knows that it's an intruder.
He runs his poloneck over his mouth. "You dumb bitch!"
He reverses, pulling his coat on his shoulders.
He gets out of his car.
Marching over and knocking on the strangers door.
"Who the fuck are you? Out!" He orders.
You pause.
His anger seeping through the windows, but you realize that you have no choice.
He'll only get his protective staff to rip open the door anyway.
And you do need each others details.
You brace yourself. There's mace in your bag, and your key chain has a corkscrew, if you get desperate.
You hear him yell "OUT! again. And you reluctantly get out of the car.
"This is a Targ Road, what the hell are you..........."
You use your purse to shield your hair.
You recognize that you're a good few inches taller than him. So put your purse under the seat. Then you stand against the car. Wide eyed with shock. With a dejected slump in your shoulders. Thanking god that you've just left work and look more presentable than most.
Aerion pauses when they get out of the car.
They? Well...She. And what a magnificent she, she was.
Everyone was taller than Aerion, so her height wasn't a surprise.
She's scared. Almost bracing herself for an attack of sorts.
His fault.
Her hair's partly braided, swept over, tickling her left cheek.
She's wearing a vintage white and grey office suit. It's obviously tailored. High waist and wide at the hip. The Sleeveless Grey jacket made him nod slightly. Easy. She's very easy on the eyes.
He has a restless urge to turn down the edge of her collar. As the rain skips down her sleek black skin, he realizes that he's just been watching her silently.
He needs to wake up. Wake up out of this. Wake up out of her.
Aerion points her back to her car. "My apologies. Sit" He swipes his index finger.
You sit in your car. "I'm sorry. One of my best friends has got a new place, and I....I must have gotten the address wrong" You explain. "I'll pay for the damage Mr Targaryen"
"Nonsense. You're.....you're not hurt are you?" The blonde reaches over. Tapping his ring finger against your shaking black hand. Just above your knuckle.
"No. I'm just a mess" You chuckle.
Aerion whips out his phone. "I can get Martina to drive you home. She's trustworthy staff. I can understand why you'd be hesitant. But you could leave your car here"
"Here?" You squeak.
"Martina can move all your personal items out. Have I overstepped?" He steps back, but leans down.
Your insides squelch from his intense squint. "That's....that's fine" You agree.
"Great. Stay in your car. Stay warm. I'll call Martina for you madam. Your car will be fixed before morning" Aerion decides.
"I promise, I will pay for all the dents and your ruined light" You promise him.
He bites his lip as he anxiously shakes his head in refusal.
He opens his mouth, then thinks better of it.
The prince clenches his jaw and saunters off.
You can hear Aerion calling Martina in the rain, as you slowly shut your car door.