Norman Reedus Imagines

Love bites (Scud)

CREDIT TO: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_is_the_ghost/pseuds/tender_is_the_ghost

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He's been appearing and disappearing since that first night you spent together, sometimes weeks or months will pass until you see him again. And now he's back, waiting in your line at the coffee shop, a cocky grin firmly in place as he leans over the counter and asks you how you're doing. Before you know it, he's wormed his way back into your life, his worn boots up on your table and his lithe body back in your bed. Only this time it's different – for both of you. You can feel that something has changed with him, he's more attentive, less eager to leave you alone. Then there are the nightmares, the screaming night terrors that have him clinging to you in the deep dark of night but that he claims to have no recollection of when the morning comes. You know that he's lying, the dark smudges under his eyes and the haunted look he wears, contradicting his denials. It's different for you too – you're done playing games with him. What you thought was a casual thing isn't any longer, you need to know if he's worth waiting for, that you mean more to him than a warm bed each time he comes home.

Winter in the city hits hard, the snow falling non-stop for days much to the annoyance of most of your customers, their constant grumbling about the weather providing the soundtrack to your days. You find yourself almost wishing for the night shift so that you can avoid the steady stream of Christmas shoppers that invade the store during the day. Eventually 6 o'clock rolls around and you get to toss your apron into your locker, eternally grateful that tomorrow's your day off. Easing your aching feet out of your comfy work shoes and into your boots is the highlight of your day which is kinda sad, you think to yourself as you pull on your parka and wrap your scarf around your neck. Calling your goodbyes to the co-workers you're leaving behind, you stop just inside the doorway to pull up your fur-trimmed hood and that's when you see him. Standing across the street, sheltered from the falling snow in an empty doorway, Scud is clad in an oversized parka of his own, the fur on his hood pretty much obscuring his face apart from the tip of his nose and the cigarette that's dangling from his lips. He straightens up as he sees you coming out and you carefully cross the street to meet him.

"Hey," you say, leaning in to pluck his cigarette from his mouth and kiss his cold lips. "I didn't know you were coming. I thought we were meeting tonight?"

"We were. I just didn't want you having to walk home in this. The van's around the corner."

You smile at his thoughtfulness, handing him back his smoke and then looping your arm through his as he leads you to his battered white van. Once you're inside, he climbs in, cranking up the heater as he pulls out onto the slush-filled street.

"I just have to make a quick stop, if that's okay, Babydoll?" he asks, throwing you a glance before concentrating on the road again.

"That's fine," you tell him, settling back into your seat. "I've got nowhere to be except here with you."

"Good."

He drives like a maniac as always, his total disregard for any type of traffic laws not even phasing you anymore and, as the snow stops falling quite so heavily, you find yourself in an older part of the city you've never been to before. Parking on a narrow side street, you both get out and he leads you between the facades of older buildings, coming out into a small square of storefronts overlooking a bustling street market at their center.

"I'm a little early," Scud informs you, checking the clock set high on one of the surrounding buildings. "Buy you a hot chocolate, sexy?"

He wraps an arm around your neck, nuzzling his face into yours, rubbing Eskimo kisses across your nose and you giggle, pushing him away.