work_inprogress | When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

New Orleans was vibrant and alive--admittedly with problematic elements, like all the dead things walking around undead. Peter had watched them for his first few nights in the Quarter and caught a few of them watching back. They hadn't made any moves toward him though, either considering him not a threat or not knowing what to make of him. If they weren't going to bother him, then he resolved to not bother them, either.

There weren't any other wolves, though, and he wasn't sure if that was good--no one to challenge or treat with over territory--or bad--where were they? Granted, it was a big city, and wolves traditionally liked to live closer to somewhere they could easily run, and for the moment he'd filed it away as that and been grateful. Since he intended to stay for a while, making nice in someone else's territory would have been awkward.

Better to just claim it as his own.

He bought a house in the Garden District, with enough trees around it for privacy, and a certain mysterious charm, wanting to be close to the Quarter, but not right in the midst of the noise. Besides--the Garden District was where Tulane was. And Tulane?

Well, that was where Lydia was.

By careful observation, he'd worked out most of her schedule, knew which dorm she was in, which room, which window. The campus was lovely with lots of shaded areas and overhanging trees and he'd managed to find a bench under one with a perfect view--if you had a wolf's vision. Jeans, a broken in blazer and a leather messenger bag and anyone catching him reading there figured he was a professor. At night, he found it easy to blend in to the shadows, watching until she closed her blinds.

He didn't spend every night there, of course. Really. Just enough to know she was all right, that no one was bothering her. Enough to snarl at every boy who walked her home or he suspected of doing more. Interestingly...a couple of them seemed to drop out of school, disappear, shortly after any such encounter. Not that he had anything to do with that. Really.

She was his. He'd marked her, chosen her, bonded with her. He'd only been waiting for her to grow up before coming to claim her.

Now she had; and here he was.

He hadn't approached her, yet. The perfect time hadn't come. But he'd been in her room, breathing in her scent, leaving his though only another wolf or one of the dead things would catch it, know she belonged to someone. He never took anything, but he left a long stem rose on her pillow each visit. Blood red, thorns still on. He came at different times, always careful to vary them, to stick to the shadows in case she'd left a camera running. Usually he did it when she was out, but once he'd slipped in, leaving it for her while she showered, and another morning she would have awakened to it next to her, like a token from a lover.

Which it was.

Tonight, she'd gone down to the Quarter with friends, and Peter followed. Watched the boys who bought her drinks, watched her dancing, laughing, followed her along crowded streets. Eventually she'd separate from the pack, and he'd follow, then, too.

He was tired of waiting.

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Peter slid into the bed, shifting to face her, gaze shuttered, mostly from wariness and his own uncertainty and not knowing how to deal with this ever. He had no idea when the last time was he'd had someone in his bed, staying there. Before the fire, certainly.

"All right." He reached out to brush a damp strand of her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.

As uncertain as she was, Lydia gave him a look as she noticed the look on his face. "Just relax, okay?" She told him as his fingers brushed over her ear.

"I'm relaxed," he lied, with a bit more of a smile.

"You look like you're going to burst out of your skin at any moment." She pointed out, knowing full well that he was lying to her.

"It's been a...very long time since I've spent a night with anyone," he admitted, voice soft in the dark of the room.

"How long?" She asked softly, curling her arm under her pillow as she continued to watch him in the darkness of the room.

Peter considered, then shook his head. "Before the fire."

"Well, that's...a bit longer than me." She admitted but then shrugged. "But it's been months for me. Maybe about a year."

He wanted to ask who it was--too recent for it to have been Jackson--but he realized the possessive urge for what it was and bit it back with a bit of a nod. "So we're both out of practice."

The last one had been Aidan but even that had been a rare occurrence throughout their relationship which meant she really was out of practice at sharing a bed with someone. "Seems like." She confirmed. "But as long as you stay out of my head, we should be fine." She added dryly.

Peter's gaze flicked down, away from hers, and his lips curled in a slightly wry smile. "I'll do my best."

Sometimes he dreamed of her, dreamed he could see what she saw, but he didn't know if that was real or wishful thinking.

She gave him a look that pretty much said it was in his best interest to stay out of her head if he wanted to see her more but then she was snuggling down under the blankets even more.

"Fine, go to sleep." She let her own eyes fall closed even if she wasn't sure she'd be sleeping any time soon.

Peter watched her for a minute, then slid an arm around her almost carefully, closing his eyes and settling near her.

"Good night, Lydia..."

When you came in the air went out (for wantadistraction)

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