Samhain

chapter sixteen: while they prepare

"Hello there, what can I get for you today?"

"Um, yeah, can I get a venti iced half-sweet nonfat caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, phoenix spice blend, no foam, extra faerie froth drizzle, heated to exactly one hundred and twenty-seven degrees Fahrenheit? Shaken, not stirred, in a reusable cup with ice cubes made from distilled selkie water from Scotland? Oh, and exactly three scoops of organic, fair-trade pixie dust infused for thirty seconds before serving?"

The elf doesn't look up from their phone, rings and bracelets clanging together as they tap on their screen while rattling off their Starbucks order.

The barista's sharpie hovers over the venti cup in her hand, eyes wide. "Uh, s-sure... can I get a name for that order?"

"Sylvantharion with a y."

"Oooookay... let me just... ring that up..."

Wooyoung sighs impatiently as he watches the barista struggle to take the elf's order. It was his idea to stop by his favorite Starbucks after they ran various errands to prepare for the ceremony, and he hadn't anticipated the line to be this long.

The familiar aroma of coffee mingles with the scent of fresh herbs and spices. An inviting glow fills the cafe where a variety of elves, nymphs, humans, and the like type on their laptops or write in journals. The chairs are carved from ancient trees and the tabletops are adorned with runes that keep your coffee cold or hot, depending on where you place it.

Baristas clad in green and white robes brew coffee while humming along to faint music playing in the background. The ceiling, ironically, is lit up like the night sky. Dozens of artificial constellations hang and float through the air.

Wooyoung needs coffee. He hasn't gotten that much sleep.

Although he hasn't had a nightmare since he began sleeping on San's couch, it offers no respite from his ever-churning thoughts.

The thought of San on top of him, breath hot against the sensitive part of his neck. The thought of his hips positioned between his thighs and growling against his ear. Pulling away, making Wooyoung sleep on his couch, saying he has to stay nearby so he doesn't run off in the middle of the night.

The thought of how possessive he sounded, humming thoughtfully, telling Wooyoung that no one else is allowed to bite him. Wooyoung found himself tossing and turning that night, still trembling as he tried to calm the arousal between his legs.

And Wooyoung can't do anything about it. He has to listen to San — at least until the curse is broken. He can't decide which is worse: the plush leather couch, or his nightmares in the guest house. What's the deal with that, anyway? He sleeps somewhere else and suddenly the nightmares disappear?

Fuck, he's still embarrassed about it. It took an hour to calm himself down. He would be mortified if San discovered that he's attracted to him. It would be just another thing San could hold over his head.

They're supposed to hate each other. Why does San care who bites him? During the hunt, San made it abundantly clear that he couldn't care less about what happens to Wooyoung. That contradicted the jealousy in his voice every time Yunho hugged him. That contradicted his words later that night when he confessed how worried he was about Wooyoung.

Everything San does conflicts with what he says. Wooyoung hates it. Why can't he just say what he means?

San stands behind Wooyoung in line, leaning in to speak into his ear. "What's in these things?"