[original] [Archer, Beth, Archer/Hadrian] Youth
Title: Youth
Prompt: Understanding
Bonus? No
Word Count: 505
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any) Archer/Hadrian
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): None
Summary: "Did you bite me?"
"Are you Archer Kinlan?" the woman asks when the door cracks open. He nods, and she mimics the movement, her hands tight around her handbag. "You're the only registered werewolf on town, right?" He nods again. "Did you bite me?" He sighs, cracks the door open further and gestures inwards, to a flat that's in desperate need of a tidy.
"You better come in."
She perches on the edge of the sofa, knees drawn high, her fingers twisted in the ends of her hair. She shakes her head at the offer of tea, but takes him up on a glass of water. It sits on the coffee table, condensation forming rings around it.
"I'm Beth, by the way," she says. "Bethany." Her eyes flick around the room, across the bookshelf, the TV, the pile of washing by the kitchen door. "It's so loud. I can hear your neighbor talking to her cat."
"It's Mrs. Norman, she lives four floors down." Her eyes widen at that, bright and shining and wide. "I've been a werewolf since I was a child and no, I didn't bite you. I'm not an-"
"It smells like blood." She sniffs loudly, two sharp bursts. "In here, there's a man in your-"
"Leave it." He knows his voice is edging too close to harsh, too close to anger.
"The man in your room, he smells like blood."
"Leave. It." He smooths his hands against his knees and takes a deep breath. "You'll learn to ignore the things you don't need." He sighs. "I didn't bite you. I can't turn anyone, only an Alpha can do that and," he shrugs. "I'm not one."
"But, but, there's no other registered wolves, none." She sips at her water, drinking the bare minimum in tiny laps. "I was bitten here, in an alley way and, and, it's driving me nuts. I can't think, I can't concentrate and it smells so strongly of blood in here!" Her voice turns shrill as she finishes the sentence, too loud and too shrill and if Archer can Hadrian walking, stretching against the sheets with a purr of contentment, so can she.
"I understand your problem," he whispers, his voice kept low. "But you need to leave. Come back tomorrow, about eight PM, okay?" He's already to his feet, already herding her to the door. She's trying to say something, noises somewhere on the edge of words but he slams the door shut because Hadrian's padding into the room, bare feet soft against the carpet.
"A friend?" he asks, brushing himself against Archer, always so much like a cat. His voice is low and lilting, an edge of roughness from thirst. "She smells just like you, but fresher."
"She's new," Archer whispers, holds himself still so Hadrian can press a kiss to his lips. "New."
Prompt: Understanding
Bonus? No
Word Count: 505
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: Original
Pairings (if any) Archer/Hadrian
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): None
Summary: "Did you bite me?"
"Are you Archer Kinlan?" the woman asks when the door cracks open. He nods, and she mimics the movement, her hands tight around her handbag. "You're the only registered werewolf on town, right?" He nods again. "Did you bite me?" He sighs, cracks the door open further and gestures inwards, to a flat that's in desperate need of a tidy.
"You better come in."
She perches on the edge of the sofa, knees drawn high, her fingers twisted in the ends of her hair. She shakes her head at the offer of tea, but takes him up on a glass of water. It sits on the coffee table, condensation forming rings around it.
"I'm Beth, by the way," she says. "Bethany." Her eyes flick around the room, across the bookshelf, the TV, the pile of washing by the kitchen door. "It's so loud. I can hear your neighbor talking to her cat."
"It's Mrs. Norman, she lives four floors down." Her eyes widen at that, bright and shining and wide. "I've been a werewolf since I was a child and no, I didn't bite you. I'm not an-"
"It smells like blood." She sniffs loudly, two sharp bursts. "In here, there's a man in your-"
"Leave it." He knows his voice is edging too close to harsh, too close to anger.
"The man in your room, he smells like blood."
"Leave. It." He smooths his hands against his knees and takes a deep breath. "You'll learn to ignore the things you don't need." He sighs. "I didn't bite you. I can't turn anyone, only an Alpha can do that and," he shrugs. "I'm not one."
"But, but, there's no other registered wolves, none." She sips at her water, drinking the bare minimum in tiny laps. "I was bitten here, in an alley way and, and, it's driving me nuts. I can't think, I can't concentrate and it smells so strongly of blood in here!" Her voice turns shrill as she finishes the sentence, too loud and too shrill and if Archer can Hadrian walking, stretching against the sheets with a purr of contentment, so can she.
"I understand your problem," he whispers, his voice kept low. "But you need to leave. Come back tomorrow, about eight PM, okay?" He's already to his feet, already herding her to the door. She's trying to say something, noises somewhere on the edge of words but he slams the door shut because Hadrian's padding into the room, bare feet soft against the carpet.
"A friend?" he asks, brushing himself against Archer, always so much like a cat. His voice is low and lilting, an edge of roughness from thirst. "She smells just like you, but fresher."
"She's new," Archer whispers, holds himself still so Hadrian can press a kiss to his lips. "New."