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Amor Fati--Chapter 7: Fervor

Paul and Maelyn have been trying to keep their relationship under wraps, but it all comes out. Caveat: Neither is their imprint. How long can smooth sailing go on?

Paul Lahote x Black!Fem!OC.

CW: 18+ content (Smut) in this chapter. Penetration, riding, and oral described.

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The bells above the diner chime as the door opens. “Welcome to Shannon’s!” Maelyn calls out. She doesn’t fully turn away from the kitchen window, just enough so her voice carries and then she gets a solid grasp on the two plates for table four. A practiced reflex thanks to the two years she’s worked here. When she turns fully, Paul’s pulled up to the counter seating and grins as he leans across it on his elbows. The tiger’s eye necklace taps against his chest with the action.

“Think Shannon will chase me out again this time,” he teases.

“Only if you keep being handsome,” Maelyn laughs.

Last week Paul was nearly unwilling to let Maelyn serve her tables. He’d come in trying to complete forms regarding the transfer of a title. His father wanted to pass down his old truck and Paul needed to sign the paper, but insisted he couldn’t until his lawyer looked over it. Apparently, Maelyn having no experience in law wasn’t enough of a deterrent when Paul approached her for an extra set of eyes to read over the form. He didn’t wait, of course, for her to be finished with her customers or done with her shift, before attempting to steal her away. Last week was her first week back to work at the diner after breaking her shoulder, so it’s not lost on her the way Paul might’ve also chosen to keep a close eye on her was to also make sure everything was fully healed.

“Well, that part is just genetic,” Paul laughs.

Maelyn’s already side stepping his grabby hands but she doesn’t mind it. “I’ll grab you a Pepsi in a second,” she promises, before locating the two kids at the booth. It looks like a first date to her. The boy is a tad shy, looking away every so often. But it doesn’t appear that the girl minds much as she seems to find a way to engage him again, asking about a biology test.

“Wasn’t so bad,” he returns. “I think at least. But I like biology.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’m not very good at it,” she laughs, eyes darting up to Maelyn.

“No, no, I’m sure you’re great at it. What-what subject do you like?”

Maelyn slips the plates on the table, a chicken sandwich for the girl and a burger for the boy. “Let me know if you guys need anything else or if something isn’t right, okay?”

They nod at the instruction, smiles crossing their face. “Thanks,” they chorus back to her.

“You’re welcome.” Maelyn turns to head back to Paul, but catches the girl’s response to the earlier question, “I like math a lot. It just makes sense to me.”

Paul’s hunched over when Maelyn approaches. She slides a hand across his back, leaning onto his shoulder just to peer at his face for a moment. Maelyn wouldn’t classify Paul as clingy the last couple weeks. There was still an understanding if either one of them needed space, or when life dictated that they had to be apart for things, however rare the phenomenon occurred. Yet, she can’t help but notice the touches. Maelyn catches the extra glances, the times he’s asked her to stay over longer or spend the night. It’s all too easy to give to him, but it makes her wonder how deep the wounds actually go with Paul.

If he needed reassurance, Maelyn could give him that. If he needed warmth, she’s sure she’d burn the earth to give him that. If he needed something to quench his third, she’d drain every river, lake, and ocean on the earth for it.

“Still want that Pepsi?” she whispers to him. If Paul wanted or needed a Pepsi, she’d give him that too.

“No, but I did want to give you this.” Paul spins just a little and Maelyn takes the step back to accommodate him. In his hand is a rectangular black box, velour by the feel when it caresses her upturned palm. Paul cracks it open and on a gold chain, with matching wire wrapping, is a cut of amethyst. The gemstone cut into a crescent moon.

Maelyn’s heart thunders in her chest, a bit of it slowing now that she recognizes it’s a necklace and not something more. She’d thought about marrying Paul, but it was a future thought, something for them to get to eventually. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers. And it is, a mixture of various shades of purple are etched into the piece, the gold wrapping accenting the purple with a strong glint in the sun from the windows.

“Good.” He motions for her to turn and she does, waiting for the tap of the stone to her chest. When it settles, the clasps in the back are secured, she takes hold of the gem into her fingers. The curve is smooth and the points are rounded so as to not cut anyone handling it, but the gem is solid in her grasp.

“Thank you.” It cuts off Paul’s though, his mouth primed to say more.

He nods, a shy smile taking over his face. “You’re welcome. Apparently, amethyst is good for calmness, and serenity or something. I figured after the absolute hellscape your life’s been recently, a little extra help in the calmness department couldn’t hurt. I noticed the name on my box and went back to the same lady, and luckily she had something.”

The tears are hot behind her eyes, stinging just a little but she swears to herself she won’t give into them. “I-I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Mae. Anything I can do to help.”

And in the growing days, just as Paul doesn’t leave home without his necklace, Maelyn doesn’t leave without hers. A matching pair of moons tapping at their chests. A soft click as they kiss. A weight that reminds them of the other. Maelyn had wanted Paul to be hers. In the way that she loved him, in the way that hopefully no one else would. And now, maybe she could be his in a way that no one else could be either. The matching set earns them jokes from the rest of the pack, but Maelyn spots between the bitter scowls on Leah’s face, a spark in her eyes.

“Purple,” Leah declares, plopping down into the chair at Emily’s dining table.

Maelyn looks up, pamphlets strewn out on the table in front of her as she attempts to plan. Paul will be coming by shortly--a informal pack meeting initiated by Sam--and after that Maelyn and Paul set aside dedicated time to discuss the future. How to get off the rez, when that might all happen. Less of course, the world decides to end again. But Leah’s declaration comes with very little warning, leaving Maelyn confused by the color’s mentioned.

“What?” Maelyn laughs.

Leah nods to the necklace around her neck. “For your wedding, I want my dress to be purple. I think orange handkerchiefs for the boys will be a nice touch to the brown suits to go with Paul’s necklace.”

Maelyn snorts. “Leah, I haven’t even thought about a wedding yet.”

“You don’t have to. Just hire me. I’ll give you the family and friends discounted rate.” She shrugs as she says it, like it’s the most logical thing in the world. And maybe it is in some ways.

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

“Schools?” Leah questions, eyes dropping down to the paper’s in front of her.

“Yeah, deciding between the medical field or something in tech. Don’t really know which one yet.”

“You’re a whiz. Will be great in either one. But isn’t Rachel coming down here soon? Maybe you can talk to her.”

Maelyn nods. “Yeah, she is. I think I will talk to her about it. But I’m hoping to be more informed before she gets here.”

“Well, wherever you go, I’m visiting. So make space.” The sentiment is punctuated by her departure, heading now towards the kitchen island to grab a banana from the bowl. Not a warning, nor a threat, but a promise. One that Maelyn has every intention of ensuring Leah can see through.

The meeting’s short, a re-assessment of borders, updates of which are sparse. There’s worry though, in all of them, that somehow the worse it is not over just yet. As if they’re all waiting for the other shoe to drop yet again. Sam’s warning for all them to stay alert echoes the sentiment that once was a quiet understatement. Even if the threat of the Volturi, and the newborn army had passed, Bella, Edward, and Jacob’s track record still proved to be enough to be wary of any sudden changes.

The moment they’re dismissed, arms are slipping over Maelyn’s shoulders. She leans into the embrace. Paul’s still talking to Jared, some bet about who’s likely to land a job first between the two of them. It itches on Maelyn’s tongue that she hadn’t seen either one of them put in an application, but perhaps such a bet would light a fire under both their asses. Granted, getting a job right now is probably not the smartest move considering that things could change on a dime’s notice. But the motivation could still be a good thing.

“Yeah, okay, we’ll see. But I don’t think any place would be desperate enough to hire the likes of you,” Paul teases.

The ribbing only lasts another minute or so before he squeezes at Maelyn’s shoulders. “Ready?” he asks.

“As ever,” comes the reply and the pair excuse themselves, Maelyn promising over her shoulder to Emily that she’ll be back Friday for the ritual hair cut.

“Do not spend all night cooking,” Emily returns. Like always. And like always Maelyn intends to not listen. “Seriously, Maelyn, there’s a beach day Friday. We’re grilling!”

“Shit, you’re so right. Got it, no cooking,” Maelyn laughs. That part had slipped her mind momentarily. However, she’ll still make sure to bring some extras—food, plates, trash bags, cups, drinks— and it’s surely going to earn her hell. Not that it matters at all. It’s not enough to stop Maelyn.

She continues down the porch to Paul, who’s grinning as he leans against the truck. It’s the one he’s driven for a while. The blue’s rusted in a couple places, but the bones are still solid and good. “You drove here today?” Maelyn grins.

“It’s the first drive with the truck as officially mine. Took Dad forever to get up to the DMV to finalize the paperwork.” The words fall hot and clipped from Paul’s mouth, but Maelyn’s just glad the paperwork did eventually get taken care of. But more and more, these instances of Paul’s dad not being as sharp or as aware are bleeding through. It’s a silent exchange. Paul doesn’t bring it up much and Maelyn doesn’t push it. But she still tries to find ways to help, a meal when she has the time to cook for them, a good cleaning of whatever room she can manage while Paul’s napping and she’s at the house. Though Paul insists she doesn’t have to, she still does.

“Congratulations,” Maelyn states.

Paul cracks open the passenger door for her and she slips inside easily. “Thanks,” he smiles.

Paul pulls forward up in the yard before cutting into a tight U-turn and they begin the ascent back up towards the road. He reaches over once they’re up off the incline and cruising, to rest his hand on her knee, she shifts into the reach, pushing her knee in closer. A steady presence. “That’s a lot of paper in your hands,” Paul notes.

“Information on a couple different schools,” Maelyn returns. She’d gone into town to get them when going with her dad to have his eyes checked. He’d been complaining that only one of them was dry and constantly watery. So Maelyn took him to the eye doctor’s office and while he was being looked out, she went to the public library to get any information they had on local and out of state schools.

“Still debating medicine or tech?”

“Yeah. I promised Jake I’d hang out with him and Rachel when she comes into town so I’ll talk to her about it some more too, to spare you.”

“I’m all ears too, always.”

“I know. But I’m sure it gets boring after a while.” Maelyn could listen to Paul talk about anything, even if he yammered on about things she couldn’t keep up with in the slightest. But when he talked about something he cared about, his face lit up and she wanted him to always feel that happy, that heard and cared for, no matter what. She didn’t think Paul cared to hear much more about her dilemma. She’s leaning medicine, but she can’t let the technology part go. The world fascinates and it feels incomplete to leave it behind.

Paul scoffs. His squeeze at her knee is short, but still reassuring. “It’s not boring. Not when it’s you. What if you sort of combined them though? Is that an option?”

“I guess so. But I’m not sure.”

“Pop open the glove box,” Paul encourages. He slows to take the turn into the driveway of his place. Maelyn doesn’t need to be twice and when she does more pamphlets stare back up at her. She shifts through, a couple on top are auto tech programs and one about an electrician apprenticeship but underneath are a couple for medical technology specialists. “They may not be up your alley, but I figured you could at least read up on them.”

“When did you do this?” Maelyn asks, staring down at all the pamphlets. The better question might be why did Paul do this? What was he planning?

“Same day I got your necklace. I’ve been thinking,” Paul starts as he puts the car into park. Her heart races, beating at her ribs at his slow start. Thinking is a good sign, or at least she hopes it is. “I don’t know how much more of this Edward-Bella-Jacob thing is going to impact us, but I’d really like to get away with you. Now I’m not saying I know exactly what that looks like. I just know that I do. I was thinking about picking up a trade. I’m halfway decent with my hands. Does that sound like a good place to start?”

Maelyn shakes her head with a tiny laugh. Only her. Only Paul would find himself in a position to hedge such good news like this. But god, she wouldn’t want it any other way. “Paul, it sounds like a great place to start,” Maelyn returns.

**************

Paul can’t say he’s really thinking at all when the words slip. The house was empty when they stepped through. They talked--mostly about the diner, and the pack-- but part of the conversation did steer into the future. That’s where the slippery slope for him began, he figures, when he was pressed up into Maelyn’s side, her arms wrapped around him and her nails scratching at his scalp. Though Paul always kept his wits about him in public with Maelyn, the second they’re alone he’s dying to find a small piece of heaven in her arms. She never teases him, never makes him feel strange for wanting to be coddled. Maelyn’s always welcoming, arms opening for him before he really even needs to ask and he always exhales when she does.

That would be as good a place as any for the demise to begin. It’s not the kissing, not the pants into hot flesh, not the nips, not the laughter escaping them in small tufts at the gentle brushes along spines, and hips. That’s never really the beginning anyway. Paul knows he was fucked the second Maelyn pulled him up into her side. But he’s always been a bit of a sucker for her. He wouldn’t want it any other way. What would life be like if he didn’t have Maelyn?

Besides, the descent into uncharted waters stood no chance of slowing down when Maelyn whispered hot against his ear, ‘I love you.’

The first time in the forest after Maelyn took off post Edward unveiling which vampires exactly had attacked her mother had been the only other time they said the phrase to each other. I love you felt too weighty, too much like something that they couldn’t take back if they spoke it aloud, using their teeth and tongue to press the words out. It would be their undoing. Whatever they were keeping tucked away, whatever parts of themselves they still wanted to hide, would have to come to the surface. They’d have to be brought into the light. And they’re still much too young, still have much of their lives to live. But the weighty sentence is always right at the back of his throat, always waiting for the right moment to come up.

“I love you.”

There is no too, because there is no addition. Paul doesn’t love Maelyn on a conditional. He’d loved her even if she didn’t love him back. But even that sentence isn’t the brake. Even if I love you’s whispered during sex could be a brake, they wouldn’t be for Paul. Because even with the squeak of the frame, the headboard tap, tap, tap, tapping against the external facing wall, with the sweet exhales of Maelyn’s pleasure, Paul can only keep going. Paul can only keep the drive of his hips at a steady pace, which means his mind is steadily going too.

Her pleasure gives him pleasure and he swears that if he had to die, he wouldn’t pick embarrassment, he’d pick Maelyn. But embarrassment may get to him first because Maelyn’s eyes are wide and he knows he fucked up at the second addition to his statement, “Gonna marry you one day.”

“You want to marry me?” she questions. Her hands haven’t left his side, instead they press down tighter, like she’s pulling him in so he can’t get away.

Paul wouldn’t walk away, not from her, not unless he was made to. “Yea-yeah.”

The gems clack as they brush. Paul’s holding himself up on his palms, but he can’t help the hot flash of shame. That is until Maelyn grins, pushing up to capture his lips in a kiss. It’s slow, but not hesitant. She kisses him like she always does, all confidence and a grin. Maybe he didn’t fuck this all up.

As they part from the kiss, Paul can’t help but ask. He’d anticipated so much worse of a reaction. “You’re not weirded out by that?”

Maelyn laughs, hair brushing against the cotton pillowcase. “No, I’ve thought about it too.”

“You-you have?” Before Maelyn can finish the nod, Paul dips down again, lips pressed to hers. She laughs against his lips and it’s the sweetest sound, muffled but still amused. It’s light as it leaves her. Paul’s not sure what sound he adores more, her laughter or the sound she makes when she cums.

But he’s always happy to produce both.

The space between them feels even smaller now. Maelyn grazes her teeth over his shoulder, a hum falling from her as Paul continues to rock his hips into hers. “Fuck,” she whispers, the end cracking just a little. “Just, just like that.”

“Aye, captain.” It’s a ridiculous tease. Even Paul knows it, but he knows when she laughs, it’ll be even more worth it.

“You,” Maelyn huffs, thought dying out for a groan when Paul pushes in a little harder than he had been before.

“I know,” Paul whispers, kissing over her cheeks. But he also knows that at the very least, the future will be exceptionally bright.

Her nose scrunches and he knows that her release is near. Though her mouth hangs open, no real words come out, just huff and grunt. “Oh, please,” he begs. “Say my name, okay? Just one time for me.”

The spasms quicken, the clench of her around him nearly makes him choke on his own tongue. “Paul,” she groans, “please don’t stop. Please, don’t.”

He wouldn’t dream of it, wouldn’t even dare like the thought enter his mind. Because who in their right mind wouldn’t want the sight of Maelyn undone by pleasure beneath them. Who would run away from an opportunity like that? She huffs his name out again. The last letters get sucked up by her orgasm, but he takes it. He’ll take whatever he can get from her, every ounce, every drop.

Paul kisses at her open mouth and swallows down his own name off his lover’s tongue. The sweetest his name has ever tasted.

The thing about Maelyn Paul should’ve known by now is that she’s not satisfied with just one. The moment her shakes settle, and her breathing returns, though his breathing is still rough, she settles on top his waist, knees pressed down into the mattress, her hands lightly pressing into his chest to hold only a tiny fraction of her weight. Her grin is soft, but Paul always knows what’s just beneath the surface.

“Insatiable,” Paul laughs as Maelyn closes the distance, the press of her lips soft against his.

“But you love it,” she laughs in return, pressing another kiss to his throat.

“A lot,” Paul agrees. “I love you a lot,” he confesses. It’s easier this time, lighter. Doesn’t take as much effort, but doesn’t lose its gravity.

“I like the way that sounds,” Maelyn purs against his throat. “Say it again for me.”

“I love you.”

“God,” she moans, hips sliding up his length. It stiffens between them. A shorter refractory period is always a godsend with Maelyn. “I love you,” she breathes in his skin. The words feel like they could brand him. They feel like they should. Like Paul wants them etched into his flesh forever.

Paul’s less worried about messing something up, when he knows he can’t really go wrong. Like he knows the right push and pull of his fingers inside of Maelyn to make her writhe. He knows just how to take her body to the brink and how to bring it over the ledge over and and over again. A practiced attunement. Just like Maelyn knows the right pace and press of her hips. This--this right here is so fucking easy and it feels so good to get something right.

It is perfect harmony, a rhythm that cannot be mistimed, or miscounted. Every up has its down and every down has its up, so perfectly aligned. Each punched out sigh met with encouragement. Paul’s not sure he can get a higher high than this, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“You’ve got one more,” Paul encourages, fingers still curled into the depths of her.

Her fists are full of the sheets, back arched so perfectly that Paul wants to kiss every rib he can see. “God, please, please,” she groans.

“Just one more. C’mon, baby. I need it. God, I need it.” There’s the faint taste of taste that drops to his tongue as he kisses at her inner thighs. But it’s just what he needs. Besides Maelyn to cum one last time.

“Baby, fuck, oh shit,” Maelyn grunts and he swears there’s more, but it dies on her tongue.

She clenches down, spasming around his fingers and comes. Hard. He can hear when her breath catches back up, how the scream finally breaks through but only the tail end of it. A haggard sound before she sinks back into the mattress, but it’s music to Paul’s ears. He kisses up her body slow, taking his time to taste every inch of her, the left inner thigh, the right side of her pelvis, the left side of her belly button, the right side of her ribs, her left nipple suckled into his mouth, up and up until he kisses the tip of her nose.

The smile he earns is soft and fleeting. “Let me know when you’re hungry,” Paul whispers.

“I think that’s more for you than it is for me.”

“At least pretend like you care about me,” Paul laughs before pulling her body into his side. She nestles her head against his chest with little other prompting.

The rattle of keys hits Paul’s ears. He’d heard the rumble of a truck but assumed it’d pass by. Maelyn pulls the sheets up higher around her. The escapades ended nearly half an hour ago. Though Paul felt good about his stamina, Maelyn always gave him a run for his money. What Paul assumed might be a one orgasm encounter for him and two for her, turned into a three orgasm encounter for Maelyn and two for him. There was no reason then to leave the bed, nor to redress at the time. Now as the keys shake in the door, they both reach to the floor for the respective clothing.

Paul laughs, watching Maelyn all but tear the tank top to get it over her head. It leaves a few strands of her hand pushed up. Paul crawls over the bed, kneeling to help smooth the strands. “You look like you’ve been fucked, Jesus. Who did that to you?” he grins.

Maelyn swats at his chest, and finally gets the button on her shorts through the hole. “I’m not sure. Said his name was Paul. Ever heard of him?”

“Can’t say I have. I’ll keep an eye out for him though.”

They settle back onto the bed, over the sheets and Paul grabs the electrician pamphlet from his nightstand. He grabs an information technology one for Maelyn and she settles in, head pressed into his shoulder. The boots are heavy over the hardwood floors.

“Paul, Mae,” his father mutters in passing, hardly throwing them a second’s long glance. He stumbles for a moment into the nearby wall. The few wall hangings rattle just a little at the collision.

“Je-okay,” Paul huffs, pushing up from the bed. Part of Paul wants to laugh it off, wants to pretend like this isn’t a normal occurrence. But as the weeks have started to pass, the drinking’s become more frequent. It used to be passable. Paul knew it was happening, and could smell it on his father as he passed from time to time. Yet, it hadn’t seemed dangerous at the time. Or like it could be there. There would be days between drinking episodes.

But now it’s blatant that Paul’s sure soon notices will start to appear. So far, Paul manages--helping people with odd jobs here and there. But if his father doesn’t get his act together it’s going to bite both their asses here soon.

Paul loops his father’s arm over his shoulders. The alcohol of choice today, tequila by the smell, coats his father’s breath. “I can make it,” his father huffs. He attempts to shove Paul but fails before can even get his arms up.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you can.”

“You still with Maelyn, huh?” The question falls in a grumble, syllables bashing up against each other as they fall out.

“We’re not doing this,” Paul retorts, placing his dad onto the bed. There’s more shuffling from the front of the house, a cabinet opening and closing and then the rush of water. The sentiment is most likely the same and Paul’s not looking forward to a repeat. He was under the impression that his father understood not to cross this line, but sober agreements hold no weight in this drunken state.

“She’s been around for almost a fucking year. Ain’t you tired?”

An almost year gone too fast, but Paul keeps that to himself and focuses on untying the boots on his father’s feet. “Dad, no. Maelyn’s important and you’re not going to start this. We’ve already talked about the way you talk about her.”

“I mean, a year, with the same girl. It’s definitely gotta get boring, fucking the same girl over and over again. They’re no good anyway. They’ll treat you all the same. Women always--”

Another car wreck of syllables and sentiments coming to a screeching halt with one shout, “Dad, no! Not about Maelyn! Never about her.”

There aren’t even tremors. Not yet, just the hot flash of what could be. He can feel a humming in his skin. It’s a warning, letting him know just how close he is to losing it, how he could cause a larger mess if he’s not careful. He doesn’t want to hurt his dad, not like that. Not in a hot flash he can’t take back, that would never be undone.

Inhale, two, three.

Exhale, two, three, four, five.

Paul blinks back his vision clear. The thrumming of his skin presses hard like it wants to explode. But he can’t. Not here. Not here.

Inhale, two, three.

Exhale, two, three, four, five. The silence is thick. His father’s eyes wide now with an awareness that wasn’t there seconds ago. The thunk of the glass hitting the night stand echoes. The bottle rattles--undoubtedly Tylenol for the impending hangover. The sounds are all lingering around him but Paul only watches his father. “Do not ever, and I mean ever, talk about her like that again. I won’t ask again.” It comes out all through his teeth.

His father nods.

“Baby, look at me, please.”

Paul draws his gaze from his father to Maelyn. The downturn of her eyes makes his chest crack. Her lips are pressed into a thin line. There’s a sting, the heat of something like anger and maybe concern painted into her irises.

“Are you okay?” Maelyn asks.

The question feels so out of place from her lips. Like he shouldn’t be the one being asked. Yet, he is the one being asked. “Are you okay?” he returns.

“I’m okay. Do you need a second outside?”

The heat of his skin has dulled. His fingers ache, but thankfully there’s no tremors. “No, I think I’m okay. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.” She says it so softly that he’s not even sure he’s heard the response.

“I’m-I’m sorry, Maelyn,” it comes out fumbled from Paul’s father.

“Take two,” she commands, nodding to the nightstand before exiting from the room. Paul can only stomach to watch his father finish the glass, the two red and white pills swallowed, before tearing himself from the bedroom. The clattering of dishes and cabinets leads Paul to Maelyn, where she resides now peering into the fridge.

“I’m sorry about him,” Paul starts. Maelyn would surely be looking for an excuse to leave now, not that Paul would fault her. Paul tried to talk to his dad. He did talk to his dad. But the old man seemed to want nothing more than the bottle to drown sorrows in. “He’s not been the same, for a while. And that’s no excuse. But I am sorry. I-yeah, I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the apology. Now, you do realize you’ve got everything in here for beef stew, right?”

Paul blinks. Not that he didn’t realize that--because he had. He’d purposefully gone and got the ingredients to attempt the recipe she wrote down for him. But he’s not sure why Maelyn’s focused on that. Not after what just happened. “You-- why are we talking about beef stew? Are we living in the same universe right now?”

“I’m not worried about what your father thinks. Whole rez knows he’s on a bender right now. Who I am concerned about is you.”

“Me?” It seems silly. Like he should be concerned about her, or consoling her. He closes the gap between them, easing the fridge door close as he does. “Baby, you don’t need to worry about me. I’m supposed to be worrying about you right now.”

“I’m going to. I’m always going to.”

Paul takes her face between his palms. Her eyes are a little glassy, but no tears have shed yet. “Is this what we do now? Worry about each other?”

“It would appear so,” she laughs, all mostly an exhale.

“Are you sure you’re okay? He--he said something really inappropriate and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t acknowledge that.”

Maelyn sighs, pulling in closer to Paul as she does. “I’m not his biggest fan right now. But I don’t think it’s malicious. At least, I hope not.”

“You’re kinder than I would be,” Paul murmurs into her hair. “And if you realize later you’re not as okay with it as you think, please let me know.”

“Okay.” A whispered promise into his chest. “Now, am I still teaching you how to make this beef stew or?”

“Yeah,” Paul grins. “I’m doing the cooking though. So you can’t commit arson as revenge and call it an accident.”

“I’d only think about it. I’d never actually do it.”

Paul doubts that the thought would cross her mind, but for the joke, he allows it. “And I know this isn’t the banana bread thing, but,” Paul starts turning to the pantry. There on the back of the door on a hook rests the Kiss the Cook apron he promised. He managed to snag one at the thrift store when looking to replace a few t-shirts he shredded. He peels it off and threads his head through the loop.

Maelyn’s laughter hits the hair sharply, a bark of a laugh as if she can’t believe it’s actually happening.

“I know, I know,” Paul laughs, tying the strings around his waist. “Get a picture now. I’m quite handsome. But this will not happen again.”

“Where’s the disposable camera at? Because I will get a picture. You’ll be explaining this one for years to come.”

Maelyn digs out the camera, at Paul’s directive from the junk drawer, shockingly with film still inside of it and snaps the picture of Paul standing next to the counter. He’s not sure how to poise, so he settles for gesturing to the apron as the camera flashes. He’s not sure what other photos exist on that roll, what else he might discover once he goes to have the film developed, but he’s hopeful that there’s many more memories to come with Maelyn, more stories to tell children and grandchildren eventually. He’ll have to make sure he brings the camera Friday, and try to use up whatever else remains.

“Alright, alright,” Paul grumbles when the flash goes off again.

“Sorry, had to! But stew.”

“Yes, yes, stew.” Her instructions are clear, how high heat needs to be, which veggies need to be dropped in and when. The pot in front of them grows hotter, just enough to make the air wispy but not heavy. “I’m proud of you,” Maelyn starts. She hands over the collection of spices and seasonings needed for the dish. When he glances up, her eyes are trained on him.

“I can cook, you know,” he laughs.

“I mean about earlier, keeping your cool with your dad. Not phasing.”

His cheeks warm. Her gaze is sincere and he knows she means it. But he hadn’t had someone say those words in so long, he wasn’t sure they were real anymore. Until now. Until Maelyn’s said them. “Thank you.” He does want to get better at it. Wants to actually be able to get off the reservation and turning into a wolf at every slight wasn’t the way to do it. It’s not always easy, but it feels a bit more worth his efforts after her recognition.

“Two tablespoons,” Maelyn instructs when Paul holds up the first seasoning. She runs her fingers over the short cropped hair and pressed a kiss to his cheek before her teeth gently graze over the flesh. “I hope you’re proud of yourself too.”

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