fic:toast, original
Title: Toast
Rating: FR13
Word Count: 1000
Fandom: Original
Prompt: image
Challenge: picfor1000
Coffee chased away the taste of blood from her mouth. However, it didn’t abate the growing hunger in her gut. She’d changed from human to wolf and back again with only a few short hours in-between. Sustenance was a requirement after such activities for the dual-natured and aside from condiments Bryn didn’t have much in the way of food at her place. There wasn’t a lot open come the devil’s hour, but she’d lived in Elder long enough to know a few worth visiting while the veil between worlds was thinnest.
Toast was one of those and while they only served breakfast their hours of 10PM to 1PM made them the perfect destination. They catered to the late shift workers; ranging from the factory to the police, but their bread and butter patrons-don’t pardon her pun-were the staff of the hospital just a few blocks north. On weekends the occasional hipster stumbled in reeking of tobacco and watered down pilsner. Thankfully, it was only Tuesday-make that Wednesday-so Bryn’s sensitive nose was spared that particular assault.
There was a corner booth that offered an open sight line of the restaurant that Bryn favored. It was currently occupied, and the officers sitting there had given her and Lotte the once over, but aside from the lingering look at her companion’s hair they’d returned to their meals. Their presence was likely the reason for the manager’s balancing of the till-out in the open and on the counter where people eat.
The sight irritated, but Bryn kept it to herself; unwilling to draw attention. She knew disinterest was better when it came to those with guns and she was grateful of small favors. Lotte’s current mood wouldn’t abide questions and all Bryn wanted was a hot shower and some ibuprofen in the near future-after she finished stuffing her face.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste at Lotte’s choice of Smoked Salmon Eggs Benedict. Some of her natural brethren might eat the occasional fish, but the smell of it had never appealed to Bryn. Her mouth twitched as a happy sigh escaped her less scent-restricted friend while two plates were placed in front of her with eggs, hash and a waffle on one and, since Lotte was paying after her colossal misstep, all the meat options offered were present on the second.
The waffle was smothered in Nutella-not a menu staple, but still delicious-and Bryn used her fork to break it into bite-sized chunks first. The sweetness of the combination further distracted from the coppery tang that remained of the night’s festivities.
“Waffle before meat, little wolf?” The endearment drew Bryn’s gaze up from her meal more than the question and she quirked a brow at her companion. Lotte broke the yoke of a poached egg as she continued, “You did well this night.”
Since the last bit was an obvious statement Bryn focused on the first portion. “Waffles were a treat when I as a child. Something eaten on occasion and never for breakfast.” Bryn took another bite, enjoying the crunch of the caramelized bits of sugar along the outside and decided, in that moment, that Belgian waffles surpassed all others.
“And here I thought waffles were an American staple,” Lotte dragged a bit of muffin through the hollandaise sauce before eating it.
“My mother is French,” Bryn shrugged and ate another bite. She ran her tongue along her teeth before stating, “Don’t even get me started on pancakes.”
“Crepes are better,” Lotte agreed before tapping a nail against the countertop in front of them, “Which they have on the menu.”
“I like waffles,” Bryn glanced down at her next bite and stated, “Reminds me of better times and all that shit.”
“Eloquent,” Lotte snorted-half ruining the insult and half shoving her point home-Bryn hadn’t a clue how in the hell she managed such things, but several centuries of life had to be good for something.
“Tender moments aside,” Bryn frowned at her definition of tender, and moments for that matter, but Lotte forged on, “I owe you a debt.”
“I’m not much for Crusoe.” Bryn interrupted and didn’t like the surprised quirk to Lotte’s head at her deduction. “Lit major, remember?” She shook her head and snagged the hot sauce next to the napkin dispenser. “I did you a solid tonight,” she frowned and corrected, “last night. You would’ve done the same.”
“Are you so certain?”
The question stopped her struggle with the ridiculously small cap of the bottle and Bryn looked up to study Lotte’s face. “We’re friends. You said so yourself and you meant it. You know I can smell the difference.”
Lotte’s eye contact intensified; shifting from sincere to creepy in a matter of moments. Bryn resisted the urge to squirm and attempted to lighten the mood, “You see a lot of people lining up to be my friend?”
A line appeared between her brows and Lotte directed her gaze to her plate. She ate another bite and Bryn thought it safe to return to her own meal-she’d thought wrong-and Lotte countered, “You’re an unmated wolf in a territory not of your pack’s. You had no choice, but to be my friend.”
Her hands stilled and Bryn turned to face Lotte. “I think you’ve known me long enough to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” grey eyes narrowed, “Ever.”
“I’m a dangerous friend to keep,” A delicate chin thrust forward before Lotte’s mouth snapped shut and she refused to meet Bryn’s gaze as she whispered, “I can’t keep you safe. Not always.”
“Wolves are sturdier stock than most,” Bryn snorted, but with less panache, “So shelve the Machiavellian bullshit, shut up and eat your meal before the smell makes me sick.”
Lotte’s mouth quirked, pale eyes narrowing on Bryn in challenge before she made a show of taking a slowly exaggerated bite.
Bryn rolled her eyes-age did not beget maturity.
Not friends her ass.
Rating: FR13
Word Count: 1000
Fandom: Original
Prompt: image
Challenge: picfor1000
Coffee chased away the taste of blood from her mouth. However, it didn’t abate the growing hunger in her gut. She’d changed from human to wolf and back again with only a few short hours in-between. Sustenance was a requirement after such activities for the dual-natured and aside from condiments Bryn didn’t have much in the way of food at her place. There wasn’t a lot open come the devil’s hour, but she’d lived in Elder long enough to know a few worth visiting while the veil between worlds was thinnest.
Toast was one of those and while they only served breakfast their hours of 10PM to 1PM made them the perfect destination. They catered to the late shift workers; ranging from the factory to the police, but their bread and butter patrons-don’t pardon her pun-were the staff of the hospital just a few blocks north. On weekends the occasional hipster stumbled in reeking of tobacco and watered down pilsner. Thankfully, it was only Tuesday-make that Wednesday-so Bryn’s sensitive nose was spared that particular assault.
There was a corner booth that offered an open sight line of the restaurant that Bryn favored. It was currently occupied, and the officers sitting there had given her and Lotte the once over, but aside from the lingering look at her companion’s hair they’d returned to their meals. Their presence was likely the reason for the manager’s balancing of the till-out in the open and on the counter where people eat.
The sight irritated, but Bryn kept it to herself; unwilling to draw attention. She knew disinterest was better when it came to those with guns and she was grateful of small favors. Lotte’s current mood wouldn’t abide questions and all Bryn wanted was a hot shower and some ibuprofen in the near future-after she finished stuffing her face.
Her nose wrinkled in distaste at Lotte’s choice of Smoked Salmon Eggs Benedict. Some of her natural brethren might eat the occasional fish, but the smell of it had never appealed to Bryn. Her mouth twitched as a happy sigh escaped her less scent-restricted friend while two plates were placed in front of her with eggs, hash and a waffle on one and, since Lotte was paying after her colossal misstep, all the meat options offered were present on the second.
The waffle was smothered in Nutella-not a menu staple, but still delicious-and Bryn used her fork to break it into bite-sized chunks first. The sweetness of the combination further distracted from the coppery tang that remained of the night’s festivities.
“Waffle before meat, little wolf?” The endearment drew Bryn’s gaze up from her meal more than the question and she quirked a brow at her companion. Lotte broke the yoke of a poached egg as she continued, “You did well this night.”
Since the last bit was an obvious statement Bryn focused on the first portion. “Waffles were a treat when I as a child. Something eaten on occasion and never for breakfast.” Bryn took another bite, enjoying the crunch of the caramelized bits of sugar along the outside and decided, in that moment, that Belgian waffles surpassed all others.
“And here I thought waffles were an American staple,” Lotte dragged a bit of muffin through the hollandaise sauce before eating it.
“My mother is French,” Bryn shrugged and ate another bite. She ran her tongue along her teeth before stating, “Don’t even get me started on pancakes.”
“Crepes are better,” Lotte agreed before tapping a nail against the countertop in front of them, “Which they have on the menu.”
“I like waffles,” Bryn glanced down at her next bite and stated, “Reminds me of better times and all that shit.”
“Eloquent,” Lotte snorted-half ruining the insult and half shoving her point home-Bryn hadn’t a clue how in the hell she managed such things, but several centuries of life had to be good for something.
“Tender moments aside,” Bryn frowned at her definition of tender, and moments for that matter, but Lotte forged on, “I owe you a debt.”
“I’m not much for Crusoe.” Bryn interrupted and didn’t like the surprised quirk to Lotte’s head at her deduction. “Lit major, remember?” She shook her head and snagged the hot sauce next to the napkin dispenser. “I did you a solid tonight,” she frowned and corrected, “last night. You would’ve done the same.”
“Are you so certain?”
The question stopped her struggle with the ridiculously small cap of the bottle and Bryn looked up to study Lotte’s face. “We’re friends. You said so yourself and you meant it. You know I can smell the difference.”
Lotte’s eye contact intensified; shifting from sincere to creepy in a matter of moments. Bryn resisted the urge to squirm and attempted to lighten the mood, “You see a lot of people lining up to be my friend?”
A line appeared between her brows and Lotte directed her gaze to her plate. She ate another bite and Bryn thought it safe to return to her own meal-she’d thought wrong-and Lotte countered, “You’re an unmated wolf in a territory not of your pack’s. You had no choice, but to be my friend.”
Her hands stilled and Bryn turned to face Lotte. “I think you’ve known me long enough to know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” grey eyes narrowed, “Ever.”
“I’m a dangerous friend to keep,” A delicate chin thrust forward before Lotte’s mouth snapped shut and she refused to meet Bryn’s gaze as she whispered, “I can’t keep you safe. Not always.”
“Wolves are sturdier stock than most,” Bryn snorted, but with less panache, “So shelve the Machiavellian bullshit, shut up and eat your meal before the smell makes me sick.”
Lotte’s mouth quirked, pale eyes narrowing on Bryn in challenge before she made a show of taking a slowly exaggerated bite.
Bryn rolled her eyes-age did not beget maturity.
Not friends her ass.