better man/worse than nicotine » arthur ketch

fifteen: i'm not an idiot.

i'm gonna brand you with my lips/and all of the world will know that you're mine

It's been two days and I have heard absolutely nothing from Ketch.

            I'm trying not to let it bother me. He's probably busy back at the compound after Renny was killed. I wouldn't be surprised if they were devising a plan to find Eileen. I'm just hoping since she's in Ireland, they won't be finding her.

            I could talk to Ketch. I thought about it all night. Maybe ask him to give her a pass because she is my best friend. But I'm sure to do that, he'd— or the British Men of Letters in general would want something in return. Like my brothers' full submission.

            Which obviously won't happen, so that's a bit of a dead-end street.

            So now I sit in the library, trying to distract myself with Lore – and beer – as usual. Sam and I have been going through every book we have on Demons – which is a lot, in case you were wondering – and so far all we've got is that Dagon is a Prince of Hell. Hopefully the last.

            But there's only mentions of her. No ways to kill her, or any of them. Nothing she's done in the past. Just her title. And the others.

            "They're damn good at staying completely off the radar," I chuckle, closing the book in front of me for emphasis.

            Dean sits in front of Sam and me, cleaning The Colt. "Well, yeah, isn't that kinda their thing?"

            I scoff. "Yeah. I guess so."

            After a moment of silence, Sam's laptop dings.

            "Hm. Just got an e-mail from Mick," he says, clicking on the notification. "It's a case."

            For whatever reason, a sigh of relief flows through me at the thought of Mick still being alive. Hopefully things at the compound aren't as dark as I was expecting.

            "Good," Dean says. "What is it?"

            "Looks like a guy named Jarrod Hayes disappeared in Tomahawk, Wisconsin, a week ago. No witnesses. No body."

            I furrow my eyebrows. "What else?" I catch a small smirk coming from Dean.

            "Mick says this place has history."

            Dean pauses from cleaning The Colt. "What kind?"

            "A lot of people go missing in Tomahawk," Sam almost chuckles. "One a year, every year, from 1898 to 1997 and then nothing until now."

            I silently do the math in my head. "So it's been 20 years."

            Sam nods. "Yeah. So maybe they're starting up again? Maybe it's a cycle of some sort?"

            Dean shrugs. "Only one way to find out."

            Thirty minutes and a heart-to-heart later, my brothers are heading to Tomahawk. Sam asked once again if I wanted to come, but I take another raincheck. After what happened with Eileen, I'm thinking I need to lay low for a little while. And part of me wants to see Ketch.

            So I text him. Ask him if he's busy. And miraculously, he responds almost immediately.

>No One: I am free for a moment. Can I pick you up?

            I smirk.

>You know you don't have to ask

            And just like that, my mood is lifted to the clouds.

            I'm still debating on asking him about Renny, but I know it might be dangerous territory. If I ask, then it is assumed I know Eileen killed him. And if I know that, I would no doubt become a suspect. Relationship with Ketch or not.

            So I decide against it, again. I won't ask and hopefully he won't want to talk about it. Though, the latter isn't much of a worry. He's never one to talk about work too much, unless it involved recruiting me.

            Which, as much as I hate to say it, wouldn't be so bad.

            I shrug my leather jacket over my shoulders, tying the laces of my combat boots tight before tucking them in. I make sure my necklace – a birthday present from Dean, said it was one of mom's that he found and wanted to give to me – is resting on my chest.

            I'm not an idiot. I see the way it catches Arthur's eyes. It's sort of interesting to watch.

            When he sends a text letting me know he's outside with the Norton, I practically throw myself up the bunker's spiral stairs, careful not to hit my knee anywhere. I'm having a good day, for once, and I don't need my clumsiness to ruin it.

            I can't help the grin that breaks onto my face when I set him waiting for me, leaned against his motorcycle in his own leather jacket. Thankfully I control myself enough to slowly walk over to him instead of throwing myself into his arms.

            And it seems my slow walk did its job.

            "I could watch you do that all day."

            I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. "You've missed me."

            "And you seem to have missed me," he replies, his hands instantly smoothing under my shirt.

            It isn't long before he's pulling me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist to keep me pressed against him. And I don't mind. I could drown in him, but I know he wouldn't let me.

            "What are today's plans?" I ask, leaning my head to the side when his nose brushes against my throat. "I hope food is somewhere...in the schedule."

            "You and your appetite."

            "Oh, come on. I didn't eat for seven years, I'm catching up."

            I feel him when he tenses, his actions faltering for a fraction of a moment. I sigh when he moves to look at me, his eyes searching mine. Anyone who says this man isn't caring is a damn liar. I swear every time I make a harmless joke he has to check that I'm okay. And he doesn't ask, because he knows my answer. He searches my eyes instead, letting me know the true meaning of eyes being the window to the soul.

            "Something in me still wonders why you made that deal."

            I chuckle, pressing my hand against his cheek. I don't normally, but I should more often. His skin is so soft. "And something in me still wonders why you're so curious."

            He closes the gap between us, kissing me gently before pulling away. "I only want to understand you, that is all."

            "And the feeling is mutual," I smile softly. "Maybe tonight I'll share some dark secrets. Only if you share some of yours."

            He cracks a small smile. "I was not planning on talking much tonight."

            I smirk. "Good. Neither was I."

+++

I step out of the shower to an empty hotel room, rolling my eyes. Arthur isn't normally the type to have sex and run, but I know things are busy at the compound right now. And the note on top of a box on the bed confirms it.

I was called into something last minute. I will return in time for dinner, around seven.
-A xx.

            I lay the note down on the bed, moving to untie the ribbon on the box. I've seen enough romantic comedies to know what the box contains, but the gesture is still unexpected and...incredibly sweet. Especially coming from Arthur.