Fatal ➵ Peter Hale [COMPLETED]

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eight

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"We need your help."

"When do you boys not need my help?" Dea smirked as she pushed her trolley down the aisle, that was currently filled with bottles of alcohol, and picked up a bottle of whiskey, placing it in the trolley. "I'm starting to feel like a booty call."

       "I called you for this. Don't act like it isn't your job to do this type of thing." Derek sighed irritably through the phone, making Dea roll her eyes.

       "God, take that stick out of your ass, are you always this uptight?" Dea huffed, just as a woman with a baby clutched to her chest started to walk by her, giving her a judgemental look which was quickly wiped from her face as Dea jumped at her, showing her a flash of her red eyes and watched as she scurried off, frightened, making Dea laugh slightly before turning her attention back to her conversation with Derek. "Look, I'm a trained killer. You know what that means? I've been trained to kill actual threats. Not capture a couple of hungry teenage werewolves---"

Before she could finish her sentence, Derek cut her off, "No, you've been trained to save innocent people. THAT is your job. Now start doing it because innocent---"

"WILL YOU SHUT THE HELL UP AND LET ME FINISH?!" Dea growled, making nearby strangers turn to look at her, making her look at them right back with her eyebrows raised and a pissed off expression on her face. "What?" She spat out, glaring at them, making them snap their heads back and continue shopping.

"As I was saying, instead of asking someone like me who has better things to be doing like, oh I don't know, maybe planning how to kill a pack of psychotic Alpha's? Why don't you ask someone who knows how to hunt werewolves without killing them, like Chris Argent?" There was a long silence, before Derek hung up the phone, making Dea huff. "Rude."

       "Having a little party? Or is all that booze meant for lil ol' you?" Dea jumped at the sound of his voice, hating that he was always the one that managed to sneak up on her.

       She turned around and faced him with a smirk and a hand on her hip, "Oh come on Bellator, even you know how much 'lil ol' me' can handle." She said as he approached her, running a hand through his black mop of her before picking up one of the bottles of alcohol, looking at her with an amused expression. "But then again, I don't have to be drinking it all alone tonight."

"You know the rules Dea. We're not allowed to get distracted while on the job, remember what happened last time?" He said cheekily.

Dea laughed, reminiscing that day. "Well then, let's just say I'm off-duty. Besides," She said huskily, running a hand up his muscular arm. "When has rules ever stopped us?"

Bellator looked down at Dea with a smirk on his face but soon, it vanished completely with a serious look, that made all playfulness vanish from Dea's demeanour. "You sure this isn't just you trying to distract yourself from Peter Hale? Heard you two had quite the discussion at the bar."

Dea dropped her hand from his arm and crossed her arms over her chest, an irritated look overcoming her face, "Heard, or where you spying on me?" She accused. This hadn't been the first time Bellator had spied on her when she was overwhelmed and needed space. It happened on numerous occasions, and she feared that their little one-nighters together may be causing Bellator to grow feelings for her, which may have been why he cared so much.