Just Peachy (Closed)

[kayla]

Her morning had started early; pre-dawn wake up, a trip to the docks to pick up fresh produce and fish, coffee brewing, and the special of the day being prepared. The aroma of the sweet, peach cobbler wafted through the cafe along with the enticing smell of the coffee as it bubbled in the old fashioned percolator on the stove. It would be a long day for her, like every day was, but hard work helped a person sleep better at night. By the time 9 pm hit she'd be ready to curl up on the couch with her Grams favorite afghan and watch a little TV before she nodded off with the remote in her hand, only to be awakened when the channel went off the air and white noise static filled the room so she could stagger off to her bed.

As 5am had hit she had flipped over the sign that read 'OPEN' on the front door just before she began to make the buttermilk biscuits. Her hands were a floury mess as she heard the little bell over the door ding against the soft background music of the little radio on the counter. One of her 'regulars', a little old homeless man that came in every asking for no more than a cup of coffee but always getting a hearty country breakfast of eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy, and a side of grits. She never charged him but he always insisted on paying for the coffee. She wasn't one to take away what little dignity the man had left and always accepted the thirty cents he offered.

Smiling at him as he made his way to his normal seat at the counter she spoke "It'll be just a minute Maurice. You've caught me with my hands all a mess. Just let me get these finished up and popped in the oven and I'll get that coffee for you." she told him as she tapped her foot to the oldies station that was playing, swaying a bit to the beat and singing along under her breath..."How sweet it is to be loved by yoooou.."

Dusting her hands off on the red and white checkered apron she wore over her plain yellow sundress Kayla cut the biscuits and placed them on the pan before sliding them into the hot oven, washing her hands in the sink. "I want you to try something for me today. I tried a little something different with the cobbler and the peaches were so fresh and sweet. So you have ta promise to help me out here." She winked to the old man before pouring him a cup of coffee and setting a little porcelain container of creamer next to him.

[Tyreese Gla'dour]

“This ain’t a scene; it’s a goddamn arms race!”

True, it wasn’t the most adult of ring tones that he could have chosen for his beat up cell phone, but it was just oh-so-true, now wasn’t it?

And the little added bit in the beginning “I am an arms dealer…with weapons in the form of words”? It was enough to send him into fits of laughter every time he heard it. Damn the kid down the street for blasting the bit when he was over visiting his lonely little house on the beach. For two weeks now, it had been roaming around the dusty confines of his mind, making a happy little home in his subconscious. And now, as if answering the call of some higher power, he’d equipped his constantly ringing phone with the tune, as if he never wanted it to disperse.

Yeah, that, or he was finally going completely insane. The next thing he knew, he’d be printing out the lyrics and pasting them to his body.

With a sigh, he glanced down at the Caller ID that flashed on the tiny, cracked screen. Mrs. Jones, the local Divorcee Soccer Mom had called him over to her house for the past week with various little odds and ends that needed fixing. As a part-time handyman, who was known for taking any job, no matter how trivial, it was a dream. But, as a man who really wasn’t interested in such a piece of emotionally charged baggage…well, it was getting a bit tiring.

Damn his hidden chivalrous streak. Why couldn’t he just tell the lady to shove off and find some gardener to grab ass? He could go and snarl at everybody else, but could he find the stiff upper lip for a sniveling woman? Of course not.

If only he could shrug off the semblance of humanity that he had, and show ‘ol Mrs. Jones how ‘hot’ his monstrous side really was. Oh, he was a hypocrite.

…And he was STARVING.

Stopping as a stop light blinked sleepily ‘STOP FOR GAWDSAKES!’, as if invisible traffic were scrambling for a taste of his flesh, he leaned sideways against a lamppost. His stocky features seemed to fade back into the solid, dark hues of his clothing. Simple dusky jeans, a black tshirt and a very worn leather jacket completed the outfit, and a ‘why are you talking to me?’ scowl, dark brown eyes and a gleaming scalp completed the outfit.

Tyreese Gla’Dour was a veteran of just about everything, and not-so-happy about it, thank you very much. He was old, he loved to fight, he was a bad ass that other bad asses were afraid to look at…

The loud rumble of his stomach destroyed whatever ego-pumping thoughts were running through his mind, and he rolled his eyes with a sigh. He contented himself by glaring at whatever Gods were currently looking down at him, laughing their heads clean off, as the sign finally blinked ‘Walk.’

He was halfway down the street, headed for his new construction gig, aka the new building going up near the police precinct. Then, pausing in mid-step, he turned his face up to the sky as a familiar scent assailed him.

Coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee.

Like a bloodhound picking up a scent, he turned abruptly into a café on the side of the street. Ah, the Sip and Nibble; one of his favorite places. It had good food, a good atmosphere, nice people…

Catching sight of the owner as she talked to an elderly customer, he paused for a minute, clearing his throat.
Oh yeah, definitely nice people.

Tucking his tool belt under his arm, Ty moved slowly into the room. Feeling like some kind of freakishly bald schoolboy, he patiently waited for the smaller woman to notice him. When a minute passed by, he cleared his throat and leaned slightly on the counter.

“Mornin’, Miss Murdough,” He said in his normal deep, accented voice. “I’ll take a black coffee and a bagel when you gotta minute.”

[kayla]

Kayla heard the sound of the bell tinkling again, glancing over as she listened to Maurice, leaning on the counter in front of him. Of she noticed the fellow that entered. Very much so, her smile growing wider as the little old man in front of her nodded his head, stirring a ton of cream into his coffee till it was the color of cardboard. "Well Ms. Kayla...you know I'd do anythin ta help you out mon petite." he answered in his heavily accented Creole, the wrinkles around his eyes and lips crinkling up a bit more. "I couldn't say no if ya asked for l'elephant." Yes he was teasing a little but it earned the little old man a big smile and a peck on the cheek from the country mouse as she stretched over the counter.

At the clearing of the throat she looked over at the big man at the counter and smiled, nodding to him and ducking her head a little as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "One coffee and bagel coming right up." she said softly as she looked away and reached for a cup hanging over the back wall having to stretch a bit to reach it.

"But you know Mr Gla'Dour...if ya goin ta work today ya might wanna have a nice big breakfast instead of just a little bagel. That aint gonna keep a big guy like you goin till lunch." she said as she sat the cup in front of him and stealing a glance before going for the coffee pot, pulling the metal percolator pot off the stove and pouring that black gold into his cup.

She had to be honest with herself, she'd had a crush on him since he helped work on her shop and loft but she also knew a fella like him...he was at no lack for companionship. She had no delusions about her own looks. She was a small slip of a thing. Pretty yes but not the kind of pretty that men look for. Not with the voluptuous curves and come-hither grin that some women wore like a second skin. Heck, she doubted she could be seductive if she tried.

The timer on the oven dinged and she held up one finger. "One sec...let me pull those out right quick and I'll get back to ya." She turned, still talking as she moved to pick up the hand mitt and opened the oven door, letting out the heavenly scent of those freshly baked biscuits, stirred by the overhead fan that swirled lazily. "I was just tellin Maurice here about the new recipe I tried for a peach cobbler. I'd be might glad to get your opinion on it too. But that's a dessert."

She sat the biscuits on the top of the oven and tucked the oven mitt in the string of her apron at the waist. "You'll need something hearty to get ya through the day. Some meat, eggs, biscuits and gravy." Plus when she made it she could 'accidentally' make too much to give to Maurice. It would make things much simpler. Her eyes glanced over to the old man and she smiled a little as she slid the biscuits into a large basket and dropped a towel over them to keep the heat in.

[Tyreese Gla'dour]

Gods, it was annoying how young he felt, standing in front of the counter with a frog in his throat. What was he? Fifteen years old and looking at the only beautiful woman on the planet? He was an adult…more than an adult, given the centuries he had under his belt. He should be standing there with his normal scowl on his face, curtly giving orders and leaving before the boss back at the construction site could mess up the plans.

Anything but stand there, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he watched the shop owner fiddle around with the oven. And ESPECIALLY anything but feeling as if his entire body was going to explode when she bent over to take out the little tray of scones. Good Gods, the woman had a body meant for sin. How he’d love to come up behind her and slide his arms around that thin waist, rest his cheek in her hair…

Whoa, alright, take a step back, there. He really had gone too long without a woman, if he was thinking of such a homey image, or that such a delicate flower like Kayla Murdough would think of him but anything but a piece of grumbly muscle. Decent women like her didn’t go for dirty minded little monsters like him.

But did that stop him from standing there and talking to her? Of course not. He was a frikken masochist…a frikken masochist.

“It’s fine, ma’am,” He said gruffly, taking a sip of the black coffee. Ah, there really wasn’t any other shop that made the java so good. And…she thought he was a big guy? Was that a good, or bad thing? Wait, wait, scratch that; he didn’t care. Did he? Shit. “The site guys make sure us grunts are fed, so we don’t drop dead in the foundation.”

That Heavenly scent tickled his nose and, with a very loud, unhappy roar, his stomach let the world know that coffee and a bagel was definitely not enough. Dammit, even his body was against him. His stomach was rumbling for her cooking, his fingers twitching for one of those scones…

His mind picturing how good he’d look beneath her, and how nice his name would sound on her tongue…

Aw, c’mon.

“I will take one of those scones, though, Miss Murdough,” He said after clearing his throat for a good measure. “They smell real good.”

[kayla]

The little, old man at the counter stole a sideways glance at the big, bald construction worker when his stomach grumbled so loudly and gave a little covert grin before he turned back to his own coffee, raising a palsied, shaking hand holding the cup to his lips and slurping a sip from it. He knew the owner well enough. He knew she'd never let a hungry person out of there with something so simple.

Chuckling softly to herself as she nodded and slipped a single biscuit on a little plate she took it over to him with a side of real butter and a small pot of jelly. The smell was mouth watering from the buttermilk biscuit, light and fluffy, the top flaky and steam rising form the top of it. "If you say so." she said lightly as she turned from the counter and struggled a little as she got the large cast iron skillet off it's hook and with both hands put it on the stove with a slight clang from the heavy weight of it finally being released and she chuckled lightly before speaking again. "I can only hope ya meant a biscuit. I aint never had no one call my biscuits nothin so fancy as a scone before though." Was she teasing him? Maybe...but only lightly, and good naturedly. The little thing didn't seem to be scared of him one bit or his scowl.

"Well suit yourself.." she said as she got a smaller cast iron skillet and set it on the other burner. "But I've been up since about 3:30 this mornin and I am starving." She paused and looked over her shoulder as she began to get items out of the under-counter fridge. "Maurice? You alright on that coffee?" she asked before she started, the gas flames of the burners adjusted to the right temperature.

The little old man nodded and mumbled something that she apparently understood as he waved before she began to put the sausage patties into the skillet where they began to sizzle and the aroma added to the other delightful scents that swirled in the Cafe. In the larger skillet she cracked about six eggs and dropped them in where the whites began to bubble and flop on the hot, greased metal. She shook the skillet slightly to make sure they didn't stick, humming happily along with the radio as it played another oldie song.

The milk and a small container of flour was set to the side, ready for when the sausage finished. Bits and pieces of it were picked up by the woman as she cooked. "some kiiiinda wonderful..." she sang lightly under her breath before humming the rest. It was hard not to look back. She remembered the way he'd looked all those hot afternoons when she'd brought the workers fresh squeezed lemonade to help them cool down. Muscles straining and the little beads of sweat that would trick down the back and side of his neck and trace a path down to where the tank top would steal it.

There'd been a few times she'd even found herself staring on more than one occasion, letting her imagination run wild as she watched him work. That determined scowl the look of almost peace that stole over his face when he finished a section of work. The way those arms bouldered up when he lifted things....

She caught herself sighing a little too dreamily as she stirred the flour into the skillet, not even realizing that in her daydreaming she'd managed to finish the eggs and sausage and already had them on a plate to the side. She blinked a little as she came to and giggled softly as she added the milk after the flour was lightly browned and fluffed up in the sausage grease, stirring rapidly with a wire whisk to make the gravy smooth and break up any lumps.

"Hey Maurice? I seem to have done it again. I swear I'll never get used to cookin for one. I'm so used to cookin for a small army." she half scolded herself with that light, playful kind of nature that seemed a permanent fixture in her personality. "I don't suppose you'd like some of this would ya?" she asked as she started putting two eggs and two sausage patties on the plate before putting a biscuit on there and tearing it in two to let the little billow of steam escape from it's fluffy core before she spooned a healthy heaping of gravy over the biscuit halves. Turning she held the plate out toward the little old man who grinned and nodded, his half crippled hand going to his heart as he nodded. "Oui petite....I tink I can help you out." he answered as she slid the plate in front of him and reached under the counter to pull out a wrapped set of silverware in a linen napkin.

She paused as she began to turn back to the stove to make her own and lifted her brows lightly as she looked at Ty and nodded toward the food in question and grinned lightly. Yes, it was a little underhanded and wasn't fair at all to tempt a man to distraction with the heavenly scents that the breakfast had created but sometimes a gal had to use what advantages she had.

[Tyreese Gla'dour]

Ah, good Gods…just listen to that voice. Idly, Ty wandered over to sit at the counter a few stools away from the old man, ‘Maurice.’ And the stranger’s smirk, the skinwalker resisted the urge to duck his head like a child, instead giving him a very ‘what can you do?’ shrug.

Over the rim of his coffee cup, he watched the small woman flit around the kitchen, entranced. She was so sure and comfortable in the comfortable surroundings, moving around with an ease that made his stomach clench. What was it about her that made him relax so easily, and tense up at the drop of a hat? When she’d staggered a bit under the weight of the heavy iron skillet, he’d had to mentally check himself before he leapt over the counter to help her. She was confusing, mesmerizing, beautiful…

And unobtainable. Wasn’t she? Gods, the way she looked at him, he wasn’t sure of the answer anymore. But hell, what did he know of how to court a woman? He’d been born a slave, spent most of his adult life as a gladiator, and now traveled the world under the orders of the Council of the Otherworld. He didn’t have time to do much but eat, sleep and make himself seem ordinary, while he scoped out certain shady figures marked for execution.

But, there he was, wondering if he was too old to ask a girl out on a date. Whatever the hell a ‘date’ was. Dammit, there were times that he really did resent the fact that the only person he could stand for more than five minutes was a testy, 1100 year old wolf shifter.

The smell of home cooked food slowly worked its way through his senses, and Ty slowly found himself focusing more on the woman, and less on the doubts. His stomach, thinking it was a customer itself, started to make some more very loud, demanding noises, and with a growl, he inhaled the biscuit as fast as he could. He really didn’t have time to sit there and eat, giving the fact that his boss- a dumbass that didn’t like the fact that one of ‘his workers’ had enough brains to call him out when he was wrong- was looking for a reason to can him.

Not that he should care, but still. Being able to hold down a job was a matter of personal pride, even if he was just using it for cover.

However, all those doubts went out the window as she motioned toward the origin of those delicious smells. Aw hell, Harry could wait.

“You’re twistin’ my arm, Miss Murdough,” Came the rumbled reply, followed by a rusty sounding laugh. ”As long as I’m not takin’ food from you and Maurice, I’ll take a plate, too.”

‘And I’d sure like to take you as well,’ he thought, a lazy smile sliding onto his face. And hell, as long as he was moving along those lines, why not go a bit farther? Leaning forward onto his elbows, he watched her through half lidded eyes.

”So, how long you been around here, Miss Murdough?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter.

[kayla]

She hoped the man could ignore the light chuckling of the little old man...and the little grin on her lips as she began to make up two plates of food; one for her, one for him. "Oh don't you worry...if we manage to eat all this there's always more." she assured him as she piled eggs, sausages, and a couple of gravy covered biscuits on his plate before making her own plate...similar but not as full. Truth be known she could eat like a horse when she wanted to. That hyper active metabolism and her being in constant motion like a hummingbird just consumed it all right up.

As she turned, both plates in hand she winked at him and grinned. "Oh if I was twistin your arm you'd know it..." she teased good-naturedly and smiled that wide, bright smile of hers "It would be that funny little tickling feeling you'd notice on your arm." she finished and laughed. She knew she wasn't a match but it didn't stop her from having a bit of fun with him.

As the plate slid in front of him and the aroma of that hot, fresh breakfast rose with the steam from the plate she reached under the counter and pulled out two napkin wrapped sets of silverware and set one next to his plate before she began to unwrap her own. She caught a small stool that sat behind the counter with her foot and pulled it over to sit sort of between the old man and Ty.

She caught a glance of that smile that slid over his face and it made her happy, those hints of dimples showing in her cheeks as she grinned. She stole a few glances as she used her fork to cut up her eggs. It would be so easy to image having someone like him, a hard working man who wasn't some wimpy little pretty boy like so many of the men were today. A man that was proud of the calluses on his hands and fingers because it showed he wasn't allergic to a hard days work. This wasn't the kind of man that got facials and manicures. This was the kind of man that would proudly work the day away in the fields and come home to a big hearty meal with enough energy to give his wife a hug and a kiss.

She had to blink a little, grinning a bit too much herself as she realized she'd let her imagination run away with her again. Looking up as the question was asked right as she had taken a bite of eggs she held up a finger with one hand and dabbed her lips with the napkin before answering.

"Remember when you and the other fellas were here fixing the place up?" she asked and waited for a nod from him before going on. She had no idea the effect her food was about to have on him and Maurice, being immune to her own powers she wasn't aware of them. But one bite was enough to infuse the diners with that feeling of giddiness and warmth that is so reminiscent of a first kiss or a first love. Excitement, curiosity, and innocent longing. That kind of feeling that left a person feeling happy for a long time, like the burden of the world had lightened somehow and the world looked a little bit brighter. It was an innocent feeling and pure.

"Well...about a week before that." she finished and went on. "This was my Grampa and Grams' shop years ago but they had moved back home to raise their family on the family farm. They left it to me when they passed. So..." she said stirring her eggs around a little and cutting a piece of sausage with her fork.

"I came here to get it up and running again. I think they'd like how it turned out." she said with a little smile as she looked around the small cafe.

[Tyreese Gla'dour]

Godsdamn, she was pretty when she smiled. Call it chemicals, Lack of Woman Syndrome or just good ‘ol lust; there was just something about Kayla Murdough that had him mesmerized. Making a show of attaching his attention on the food- definitely not a hard thing to do- he had the opportunity to watch her as she moved around the small kitchenette, and finally to the counter. The sway of her hips, the little wiggle in her step…if it wasn’t for Maurice’s presence there, he might have went and forgotten all of those ‘gentlemanly laws’ for a taste of her lips.

Taking one large bite of the eggs, Ty practically melted right there onto the stool. Hades’ Hairpieces, he was in Elysian. Heaven, Nirvana, Valhalla…MAN, the food was good.

With a happy abandon- and a lack of manners that would have any sane person cringing- he attacked the plate of food. In his day and age, especially coming from his particular background, it was in one’s own interest to finish off one’s plate before others tried stealing a piece. While he was sure that neither Kayla nor Maurice was about to filtch a piece of his sausage, the instinct was so totally ingrained that, like a good little military man, he was tearing into the food with gusto.

Hopefully, neither stranger nor shop owner was about to run away screaming. He really did try with the whole ‘manners’ thing, but there were just some times that he forgot himself.

Slowly, like something was reaching inside of his gut and spreading through various limbs, a strange sense of…lightness began to accumulate. Instead of the normal bitterness, anger and ever present irritation that haunted him, all he could feel was peace. Happiness. Wistfulness. Why was he suddenly thinking of his first kiss? Of Rihanna? He NEVER thought of his long dead wife.

…And neither did he suddenly feel the urge to partake in the human game of ‘flirting.’

“Well, I think I speak for the community when I say that your shop is the light of the city,” He said after swallowing a bit of toast. “And I thank you for the breakfast. It is delicious, as always. Your grandparents should be proud.”

Finishing off his plate, he leaned back as far as the stool would allow, glancing around the shop. He felt so content now…more so than he had in a very long time. It was a strange sensation…one that he hoped he could keep.

“Do you need anymore work done around the shop, Miss Murdough?” He asked, eyes sweeping over the ceiling and walls. “I’d be happy to help out, if you need some help. I have to pay you back for making this delicious meal.”


((Hehe, Ty's slooooowly working up to asking her out on a date, as happy as he's feeling right now. LOL ))

[kayla]

Kayla chuckled softly as she saw the way he devoured his food. Yep, he'd been hungry alright. It always made her feel good to see people enjoy something she made. Her Momma would have been appalled at the lack of manners but in it's own way it was a huge compliment.

Maurice grunted lightly in his own disapproval but she just cast him a grin and a wink, keeping the old man happy and quiet. He was always a good eater. She liked the way the wrinkles on his face deepened as those smiles washed over his face when he ate. It was as if breakfast were the highlight of his day. She'd grown accustomed to his company and welcomed it each day, having someone to talk to as she got the place ready for the day.

She'd just taken a bite of food when Ty spoke, raising those big, brown eyes up to look at him as she chewed and lightly dabbed her lips with the napkin as she smiled at the compliment. As he glanced around the shop she indulged in the moment to look him over a bit as he leaned back and stretched a little. His face seemed, ...lighter, less stressed. She wondered idly how it would be to have him there to cook breakfast for every morning.

Blushing a little as he spoke again, getting caught in the act as she was letting her gaze linger on that small span of tanned skin that showed at his collar she took a sip of her own coffee and smiled as she thought about it.

"Kayla..." she corrected him before going on. "You can call me Kayla and there's a few little things that could be worked on here and in the loft and with spring at the doorstep I could use a little help in the yard out back.Mostly just little things but things too heavy for me to do on my own. There's a huge rock that is smack dab in the middle of the grass that I'd like to move over to the corner and plant some flowers around and I need to break ground for my herb garden too. Food always tastes best when it's made with fresh herbs after all."

She thought about it, her mind zipping through potential things that needed doing. "The pool has a few cracks in it that need sealing before it can be used and I have to be honest...I don't know the first thing about pools. Never had one before. We always just swam in the creek or the pond back home. And then there's the leaky pipes in the kitchen and the radiator upstairs..of and a set of shelves that are actin kinda shakey. I'm afraid to put too much into them and..." she stopped herself and covered her mouth a little with her hand as she realized she was making a sizeable list. She knew it was just an excuse to be around him but he might take it as being a little pushy.

"Not that you owe me anything for breakfast. I mean, after all...if ya didn't eat it it'd just have gone to waste anyway and I hate wastin anything. But I could pay you for the work." she offered wondering how in the world she was going to do that on her tight budget.

She didn't mention the bump in the tile on the floor or the crack in the wall and ceiling or the faulty showerhead that sprayed water every which way when she tried to use it, or the clanking water heater. It was an old building with old problems but it was her's and she loved the old place.

"Tell ya what...you think about it and make me up something with an estimate on labor and costs today sometime and stop back in for some supper on your way home." She couldn't believe how forward she was being but it was all under the guise of business right? Then why did she feel like she'd have that grin o her face all day long?

Sure there were more traditionally handsome fellas that came into the cafe and flirted. Some rich, some rugged, some the biggest flirts she ever saw, some she had to reprimand if they got a little too handsy. She smiled and laughed and was polite to all of them but never encouraged anything further to her thinking, never wanted to encourage them. But there was just something about him that was different.

Her Grams had always said that when you met The One you knew. Was that what it was? She looked over the rim of the coffee mug to him, those eyes huge melted chocolate eyes peering up through her eyelashes as she waited for his response.

[Tyreese Gla'dour]

“Kayla,” The skinwalker tested the name on his tongue, keeping his eyes strategically on her face. He liked how it sounded, liked the familiarity that it brought. He could easily find himself coming into the café every morning, if only to hear her voice, hear his name on her tongue. And why stop there? Why not see her at night…after her shop’s closing?

Ty blinked in surprise as the thought slithered into his mind. What in Hades was he contemplating? Dating? Him? GOOD GODS. What was he; some…some…human?

But, somehow, through a haze of contentment, he couldn’t help but wonder what she would say, or how she would act. Would she say yes, and show him what it was really like to be human, if only for a night? Would she turn him down, showing him those little smiles were just a random kindness?

Either way, the feeling of contentment was too strong to be shaken, and Ty found himself taking another bite of his food. The taste burst on his tongue, and an appreciative sound rolled from the back of his throat. On any other day, he would have taken offense to that disapproving grunt from the old man and retaliated with a good sneer. But Gods, he was just too damn happy to care.

Happy, Gods…when the hell was HE ever happy? Something was very strange, here.

“Call me Ty, then,” He went on, swallowing heavily. The plate, now clean, was pushed forward a bit as he leaned back slightly in the stool, rolling stiff shoulders a bit.

Well, she really thought he’d demand payment to help her around the shop? How…foolish these mortals were. Sure, money was a necessity nowadays, but surely she didn’t think that he’d take hers. Was he that much of an ass, that nobody could tell when he was trying to be chivalrous?

…Wait, wait, scratch that. His sense of self-loathing was already strong enough. Gods.

Somehow, as the thoughts entered his mind, words left his mouth before he could consider them. And Hades’ Hairpiece, he wished he had.
“You don’t need to pay me, Kayla,” He said, wiping his mouth. He kept his eyes on his hands, on making sure that all of the crumbs he’d dropped on the counter were swiped into his now empty plate. “But…maybe I could make you a meal, sometime. I think that would be payment enough.”

Oh good Gods, he’d done it. Said it. ASKED FOR IT. As his mind slowly caught up to his lips, the little voice of common sense proceeded to pass out from shock.
Something that he was very tempted to do himself.

[kayla]

She nodded at the insistence of his name and smiled a bit wider, her eyes crinkling a bit. "Alright, Ty it is then." Sure she had known his name before that, heard the other men in the crew calling him that but she'd never imposed to use it herself. It just..hadn't seemed right at the time.

She watched him as she chewed her eggs in the ladylike fashion that had been ingrained into her since she was out of the high chair. But as he said those words at the end her hand paused in mid motion to her lips and her eyes went wide in surprise.

Had he just asked her out? On a date?! For a second she had to resist the urge to pinch herself to make sure this wasn't some kind of daydream so she wouldn't embarrass herself when she said yes. Maurice looked over at the two, those old, weary eyes watching silently as he ate his breakfast. He felt paternal towards the little lady and so he sized up the burly bald guy with a careful glance.

A small sound, almost like laughter left her lips as she came out of her surprise and she sat her fork down on the plate, leaning in on her elbows as she tilted her head to the side and grinned at Ty. "Was that an invitation for a date Ty or am I just hearing things?" she asked teasing him just a little bit as she watched the big man squirm. It was just too adorable, seeing him anything less than one hundred percent confident.

She turned from him and walked over to the back counter, picking up her little notepad and pen that she hadn't yet gotten to slip into her apron. She clicked the pen and wrote something on the pad, tearing the piece of paper off and folding it before she walked back over to where Ty sat.

She took his plate and napkin before setting the folded paper in front of him and carrying the dirty dishes to the back. Pausing in the little swinging doorway she looked over her shoulder and smiled at the bewildered big guy. "The cafe closes at 9 pm every night except Sunday. Then it's at 7pm. You can call that number anytime after that. " With one last flash of that million watt smile she slipped into the back room.

.....

...and once through the door she did a little dance, just barely keeping herself from squeaking as she smiled from ear to ear, blushing furiously. Had that really happened? Had that drop-dead handsome fella really just asked her out? She knew she'd be walking on air all day.

She slipped the plate and silverware into the soapy water and washed them up right quick, drying her hands on her apron as she came back out the door and grabbed the coffee pot, filling Maurice's, Ty's and her own cups.

[Tyreese Gla'dour]

His name on her lips sounded better than the Muses in a chorus, he decided. Something seemed to unfurl itself in his chest as he watched the play of shock and delight play across her face. He wanted to see her happy...always. What were these feelings of protectiveness, possessiveness that he felt so strongly? Gods, he was finally losing his sanity, once and for all.

An immortal ex-gladiator, thinking that he could have some kind of relationship with a human. Gods, he should just leave. He should get up, ignore the contentment lurking in his belly and deny his previous words as he ran for the construction site. He’d just asked a human out on a godsdamn date…as if HE knew what constituted a date!

However, none of his anxiety seemed to stop the disgruntled look from appearing on his face as she laughed. What, was his offer so unexpected? She was a beautiful woman; she should be used to being propositioned by those who came into the café.

…Damn, wrong pathway of thoughts, there. His chest tightened and his fingers twitched as he imagined her flashing that imp-like smile at other men. She was his, the monster inside him growled. No one else’s.

Meeting Maurice’s thoughtful glare with a level one of his own, he merely raised a brow, inclined his head in acknowledgement of the older man’s concern for the café owner, and silently sent a ‘no funny stuff’ promise his way.

“You aren’t mistake, Kayla,” He agreed with a little smile, ignoring the chattering voice in his head that demanded he deny the claim.

The smile widened ever so slightly as he palmed the little fold of paper, slipping it into his pocket as he stood. She had accepted. Gods above, she had accepted. He’d thrown the offer out, and she had actually accepted. His chest practically swelled with elation, a fuzzy feeling filling his head, pushing back the normal irritation to take up residence behind his eyes.

When she came back, he noted the pink flush of her cheeks and the animal in him growled in approval. Her natural beauty was doubled with happiness and excitement…Gods, how he wished that the old man was gone and they were alone in the café. He might not be a master of words, but to show her…oh, to show her, to make her feel what he did.

With a gulp of the lukewarm coffee, he slid a few bills onto the counter and offered a smoldering smile in Kayla’s direction.
“Until next time, then,” He rumbled, voice deep. Offering another respectful nod at Maurice, he turned to leave the café, stride long and purposeful.

It was only until he reached the construction site that his mind caught up with his actions, the happiness in his chest slowly dying away.
Good Gods, he’d just asked a human on a date…he, who had never been on one himself.

He was so screwed.

------


It was Sunday night, and the last of the café’s patrons were slowly filling out of the building. Standing across the street, Ty shifted uncomfortably, keeping himself in the shadows. Immediately after propositioning Kayla for a date, he’d stumbled to the one person he trusted to see his anxiety; Kaera Fenrisulfr.

Ever since he’d fallen in with the Fenrisulfr Clan, little Kaera had been the only female he’d let come close to him. It helped that she’d lived through similar experiences as his; the loss of her family, her mate, her familiar lifestyle. And almost immediately after his friendship with Wulf grew, his connection to the coveted sister solidified as well.

As such, it was only natural that he turn to her for advice. Not that he appreciated the good natured ribbing that followed.

According to Kaera, human women enjoyed finery. Kayla would want to be taken somewhere nice, somewhere where they could both ‘be themselves.’ He practically scoffed at the idea; his ‘being himself’ mostly covered beating the crap out of morons and killing for the Council. She would just LOVE that, wouldn’t she?

Kaera also demanded that he give up the jeans for a tailored suit, vow not to give into the urge to curse and try his best not to glower too much. All of which was practically the epitome of torture…but memories of that delighted smile…

It was enough for him to make the attempt. Even if it was killing him slowly.

So, there he was, slowly stalking across the street as he glanced down at the watch around his wrist. 7:00 pm, as decided over the phone just two days ago; it was time for the ‘fun’ to start, as Wulf would have said. Wrapping scarred knuckles on the smooth wood of the front door, he took a deep breath, girded his metaphorical loins…

And proceeded to pray. Gods, what was he getting himself into?