[snuggle!fic for baileigh_solis] he IS just that into you...
“It could matter. One day, it could matter.”
“Bee, I swear to God…”
“What?”
Rolling his eyes with a murderous glare, Cain put down the sandwich he’d already tried three times before to take a bite out of, only to be interrupted first by Bebe eating chocolate, then by Terry reassigning one of his Slayers to Denny, and finally Bee spouting more stupid shit about her goddamn fiancée.
Moving around the kitchen counter, he glared down at Baileigh with the kind of malice reserved for vampires, people who talked shit about his daughter…and Baileigh getting down on herself.
“Listen to me good, ‘cause the next time I gotta say this when I’m about to fucking eat? I’m gonna fucking kill you.” He snarled slowly. “Julian Sark? Is a smart man…and when I say smart, I mean he can add two and two.”
“Cain, I swear-”
“Shut up.”
“What?!”
“Shut the fuck up, lemme finish. You being a Slayer, you bein’ a hero? He loves that about you. Just like I do…did…fuck it, do. And any guy with two fuckin’ brain cells wouldn’t need to know what kinda fucking angel you are to know that yer funny, yer hot, and yer probably a great fucking lay.”
Narrowing her eyes, she blithely gave him the finger, earning her a rare smirk as Cain pointed to her uplifted hand.
“See? That’s why he’s marryin’ you…balls of steel.”
“Whatever, jackass.”
The insult came with a smile, and eyes shining too bright in the fluorescence of the kitchen. Before the tears could fall, Cain moved forward and wrapped her in a warm, strong hug, unafraid of holding too tight as he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple, then his cheek to hers. She only hesitated for a minute before she hugged him back, letting him linger for what seemed like ages.
“For the record,” he murmured quietly after a moment, “I’m over you.”
She laughed, drawing back. “Liar.”
Scowling, he let her draw back…and finally reached over to grab his sandwich, taking a massive bite with an expression of pure bliss.
“Not really…right now? I absolutely love this sandwich more ‘n you.”
“Jerk.”
“Brat.”
“…thanks, Cain.”
“Whatever…pass the mustard, this thing’s dry…”
“Bee, I swear to God…”
“What?”
Rolling his eyes with a murderous glare, Cain put down the sandwich he’d already tried three times before to take a bite out of, only to be interrupted first by Bebe eating chocolate, then by Terry reassigning one of his Slayers to Denny, and finally Bee spouting more stupid shit about her goddamn fiancée.
Moving around the kitchen counter, he glared down at Baileigh with the kind of malice reserved for vampires, people who talked shit about his daughter…and Baileigh getting down on herself.
“Listen to me good, ‘cause the next time I gotta say this when I’m about to fucking eat? I’m gonna fucking kill you.” He snarled slowly. “Julian Sark? Is a smart man…and when I say smart, I mean he can add two and two.”
“Cain, I swear-”
“Shut up.”
“What?!”
“Shut the fuck up, lemme finish. You being a Slayer, you bein’ a hero? He loves that about you. Just like I do…did…fuck it, do. And any guy with two fuckin’ brain cells wouldn’t need to know what kinda fucking angel you are to know that yer funny, yer hot, and yer probably a great fucking lay.”
Narrowing her eyes, she blithely gave him the finger, earning her a rare smirk as Cain pointed to her uplifted hand.
“See? That’s why he’s marryin’ you…balls of steel.”
“Whatever, jackass.”
The insult came with a smile, and eyes shining too bright in the fluorescence of the kitchen. Before the tears could fall, Cain moved forward and wrapped her in a warm, strong hug, unafraid of holding too tight as he pressed a chaste kiss to her temple, then his cheek to hers. She only hesitated for a minute before she hugged him back, letting him linger for what seemed like ages.
“For the record,” he murmured quietly after a moment, “I’m over you.”
She laughed, drawing back. “Liar.”
Scowling, he let her draw back…and finally reached over to grab his sandwich, taking a massive bite with an expression of pure bliss.
“Not really…right now? I absolutely love this sandwich more ‘n you.”
“Jerk.”
“Brat.”
“…thanks, Cain.”
“Whatever…pass the mustard, this thing’s dry…”