The sun broke through my apartment windows splashing over my face, more rested than I'd been in ages and relaxed I stretched to warm my muscles.
"Shh" That was the voice of my roommate/crush? Peter Hale. Who was nestled snuggly into my back.
I stretched again and attempted to crawl out of his grip.
"Don't leave" he whimpered. Actually whimpered, I knew that he was messed up but surly he wouldn't still be struggling with me waking up. It was a nice thought though, that he liked my company enough to ask me to stay.
A soft snore quickly ended that train of thought. He was only talking in his sleep. The pleading noise he made earlier was not even for my ears.
I left the warmth of his arms and made my way to our shared kitchen. Now it might seem strange that I and the infamous evil Hale are sharing a bed in a strictly nonromantic way, but Peter is a werewolf, they crave affection much like dogs do, or children! The thoughts caused me to snicker while I reached into the fridge for some milk.
"Whats so funny?"
Startled I jumped. To see my roommate glaring at me with his characteristic icy eyes, eyes that reflected so much pain and self pitty, such wickedness some times that it caused me to shiver.
"I was just thinking, theres a pack meeting later at Derkes and you haven't told me if your crashing"
Clad in only gray sweatpants, the brunette all but stomped to the coffee machine. "I have no interst in listening to the bickering of those children" he muttered, the phrase ending in a snarl.
He sat down grumpily with his coffee, which he drank black as his soul, next to him was my mug off coffee which had enough room to add milk they I liked.
I smiled at the little thoughtful act, things like this were
why I could see myself loving him, all part of my five-year plan to make satin in a V-neck love me! Which funny enough worked with my plan to get him to stop murdering people.
"you should eat something" he said in true old person manner.
"not hungry" I quiped through a grin.
A few minute later, spent in blessed silence only occasionally disturbed by the sounds of people drinking coffee and my too-long glances that were very skillfully covered (if I do say so myself)
Eventually my blissful peace was broken bye Peters phone, the ring tone might've been classy but noooo... Peter had to make bon Jovis Dead or Alive. His ring tone so well I'm trying not to stare at this gourgouse man all I here is "wanted WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE!" while he swings his jean-clad legs off the still and to his phone lating in the table near the door.
"they found Isaac, nephew wants his favorite uncle to help" The sarcasm fell from his face like rain from the sky in Seattle.
" I could come with" I offer, his eyes softened and he let out one of his rare soft smiles.
"no thank you little wolf, I'll be home for dinner" and he left....thats it
