TROUBLE COMES KNOCKING

Enzo knew he could be dismissive, and despite the fact that he hadn’t exactly slept well, Miguel wasn’t terrible company. It was Mittens who’d had the problem with their extra visitor overnight, taking her pillow from her. The cat was sitting on the chest that was at the foot of the bed, her gaze on the werewolf. Enzo wasn’t sure if she was plotting his murder or if it was just because he was technically a dog. “Probably not,” he said finally, though it wasn’t anything Miguel had done. “I don’t mind being an acquaintance, but sex doesn’t exactly equal friendship.” He held out a cup of coffee anyway, since despite his flat tone, he wasn’t all bad at this. ”Why did you move to a town with no plan for a place to stay?”

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Miguel lifted a shoulder, he hadn’t had too many expectations— though he couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed that an avenue that could have lead to permanent sleeping arrangements was quickly drying up. His hands wrapped around the coffee cup, and he brought it to his mouth for a sip before snorting. “I don’t have any money, I was hoping that I’d find work and then everything else would fall into place. I’m working on the apartment thing, but I think at this rate I might just end up finessing a permanent room at the hotel I work at.” It wasn’t nearly as comfortable as, say, someone else’s bed, but it would have to do while things were temporary. “I’ve always been able to figure things out on the fly, life has a way of making itself work out.” He tapped at the side of the mug. “This is good, by the way.”

Ever since the two men who came barreling through the field in their truck, Kit had kept a careful watch on the farm. Often walking around the fields to make sure that the animals were okay, and that there were no unwanted visitors. Man or predator. But the scent he caught onto was a mix of both, one that was familiar and easy to track. Kit had been in the Argos for a little while, and he met many of the wolves in the pack; this scent wasn’t one that was familiar. Once the stranger was in sight he could see him sneaking around the house. Instead of being able to sneak up and confront him, his foot snapped a branch when it came down. Thankfully, the wolf didn’t run off like a scared deer, instead he surprisingly confronted Kit. “Okay, do it. Explain.” Kit wasn’t exactly a scary looking guy, but he was tired and the gruffness of his voice nearly sounded like a growl. “This is private property.” 

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Miguel made a face, realizing that he had run into one of his own kind— which in his experience, didn’t often mean that he was about to be let off easy. His hands stayed up, palms present, and he didn’t bother taking any steps to eat up the distance between them. Instead, he gestured towards the house. “I mean, I figured that but you know, it’s right on the woods I kind of lost my way.” His stomach snarled, too loud to not be embarrassing and he sighed. “I smelled food. I thought that there wouldn’t be anyone around.” He hated to seem weak, but in this instance, he didn’t particularly feel like being tackled over a slice of apple pie. “Just hungry, nothing else.” Though, he pointedly left out that if there had been any valuables within eyesight, he would have gladly taken those home with him as well. “I’ll go, don’t worry about it.”

    Quick flirting leading to casual sex had once been Noah’s greatest skill, and it seemed he was aggressively working to get back to it. His eyes flitted to the bathroom door at Miguel’s agreement, just in time to see two people slip inside it. Occupied. He did not have a car, so the options slimmed down to one. If he remembered correctly Milos said something about going out, and even if not, the house was huge enough his brother probably wouldn’t notice anything. “Then how about we skip the drinks and go back to my place?”

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The werewolf followed the dart of blue eyes and his lips curved deviously, understanding then exactly where this was going. Clear courses for smooth sailing, he reached for his drink and tipped it back, draining the contents with an easy swoop. “Waste not want not,” he chimed in before leaning in to brush his fingers over the other’s hand. It seemed as though his plan to find a bed that night was unfolding a lot easier than he had ever thought, and he was delighted, responding eagerly. “Let’s absolutely do that.”

There were a lot of werewolves making their way into town lately. Alarick would have been elated to hear the news if he was more trusting. The last person he had let into the pack was Laila and he regretted that every day considering how much she liked to irritate him. Not that he would ever go back and change that choice though. She fit in too perfectly within the Argos. Would this guy be the same? “You can just ask me, but sliding on in happens after the first date.” He paused for a moment. “With the pack.”

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“Alright then,” Miguel said, canting his head. “Consider this me asking.” The clarification made his nose wrinkle, and the werewolf looked over at the other man, letting out a breath. “Sounds like an awful lot of effort for just a little guy like me, can’t you just trust me?” There was nothing trustworthy about him, he supposed, with his tendencies to act with the speed of an adder: he was wicked at times, but undoubtedly loyal when it counted. “But if you want, set up a play date. I can hang.”

“Seriously, man?” It takes a lot to annoy him, but this guy had given him a vibe the moment he’d laid eyes on him. He’d thought, benefit of the doubt, maybe he was just a bit awkward because he’d shown up alone. Between drinks, he’d watched him hang around the edge of the dancefloor, that wasn’t anything new and so Emory hadn’t paid him any mind. Until Icarus flew too close to the sun. Icarus being the sly fuck, and the sun being a whole bottle of liquor. He was going to get off lucky, if it’d been Tobias’s, he figured he might be getting more than a tongue lashing. But at the same time, he didn’t know what this guy was. Granted, it didn’t seem to fit, for another vampire to be stealing, and he didn’t think a vampire would get caught so easily. “You don’t have anything better to do?” He’s still got a hand around the guy’s wrist and he doesn’t intend on letting go until the bottle is freed from his grasp. 

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Miguel snorted, wondering what it was that had given him away. Perhaps it was simply too early in the night to be making moves as he was— stealing a whole bottle was usually saved for the end of the evening, when the lights had dimmed impossibly dark and everyone was too tired to notice one or two missing from the shelves. He loosened his grip and wiggled his fingers, showing the bartender that he wasn’t planning on yanking it back for himself. The human seemed to have an iron grasp and the werewolf gestured down to his hand for him to be freed. “On a Tuesday night? Absolutely not.” Still, the evening was young and he didn’t have somewhere to sleep yet— he leaned against the bar, passing off a saccharine expression. “Want to keep me busy? You know what they say about idle hands.”

@miguelsramirez​

    “Can I help you?” There were few places where one could easily find people who needed their soul repaired, and most of them were bars. Ryker had been sitting there with a glass in hand, scanning the room for anyone in need of help. But instead the only thing he noticed was a werewolf grinning at him, making his skin crawl with how uncomfortable he felt. “Is there something on my face?”

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“Sure,” Miguel said, leaning fully against the bar now. He’d noticed this one as he’d walked into the bar: he had the same magical aura as Noah, something that he was still uncertain about, but he recognized the warmth of it. “It’s what’s missing that’s really shaking me, wey, you know that song that the oldies love to sing.” The werewolf lifted his glass, tipping it in the other’s direction. “You’re never fully dressed without a smile.”

    “I‘m not planning to take it back.” Noah turned his body slightly so that it was angled more towards Miguel. That way his eyes could take in the line of the other‘s jaw, the intensity in his eyes, the way it drew him in. They were both being rather obvious about their intentions, talking the same language between the lines, and Noah was not ashamed to admit to that. He needed a distraction from everything on his mind, and this served to be the best one right now. “A sneak peek, yes. But I wouldn‘t mind getting more than just a peek.”

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Their knees touched and Miguel’s expression widened, he leaned further onto the bar to grip at a drink that was offered towards him from the bartender. It was sweet, and the tequila was strong: just as he had intended. Perhaps he could get one or two more out of the phoenix, and he studied light eyes before allowing himself the indulgence of a low laugh. “All you had to do was ask. I’m easy, and you’re cute. Great combination if you ask me.”

“Good, you made it,” she says, gaze traveling over the werewolf’s prone form as he lays against a park bench. Lila reaches up to pull the sunshades from her eyes, before knocking one of his legs in an effort to get him to move. “Come on, up. Make room,” she says, before promptly taking a seat beside Miguel on the bench. Her head turns towards the scenery in front of them, the warmth of the sun against her skin as children play in the distance. It’s picturesque, if one doesn’t know about the dirty underbelly of the city. “I wasn’t sure you’d choose to come.” ( @miguelsramirez​ )

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Miguel groaned as he blinked the morning’s brightness away from bleary eyes. His back hurt and he had slept fitfully, but none was as oppressive in the moment as the hangover that clung to him like a demon on his shoulders. He had thought that the evening’s events would have lead him to a warm bed, but instead he had been given nothing more than a useless promise of a second date and the aftereffects of about seven more shots than he should have had. “I thought for sure you were a reaper coming to take me away,” he said as he straightened up, sliding down the bench to make room for the witch. “I think if you’d of offered me half a bagel I’d of followed you straight to Mictlan.” After a yawn and a small stretch, the werewolf looked back towards the woman that had sought you out. “You know me Dot, you call and I come.” He gestured. “Letty had a gig in London and wanted me to come along, it didn’t seem too far once I had already come across the pond you know?”

     Rafael had worked as a cop long enough to recognize a criminal when he met one. Though he had to admit he was more used to the serial killer type. Not the type who tried to steal food in the middle of the afternoon in broad daylight. “Where’s Rion?”, he asked no one in particular. It wasn’t the first time the reaper had disappeared in the middle of his shift, and he was starting to wonder why he paid this guy for literally disappearing into thin air. Rafael’s eyes narrowed in on the stranger, to the box of baklava in his hand. He moved quicker, his hand closing around the other’s wrist that held onto the box. “Stop,” he said, authority in his voice that he had grown in over a year of raising two stubborn teenagers. “You hungry?”

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Whoever Rion was, the shop had been empty when Rafael had entered it— which had of course, been the initial spark for his endeavours in theft of this particular small business. Miguel was certain that he would be able to dart away when a firm grip on his wrist made him sigh, as though he was more annoyed than upset that he had gotten caught. Hazel eyes rolled and he released his grip, sending the box careening back down onto the counter. This was another werewolf, but he had learned long ago that trust was something to dole out carefully, and he toed his words as such. “Of course I’m hungry,” he volleyed back, “But if this is your attempt at a scared straight intervention, it’s far too late for any connotation of the words. I’ll just leave.”

     Noah liked to think that he was confident with the way he looked, but feeling the other’s gaze on him made him incredibly nervous. He didn’t even know why exactly, just that his heart beat a little bit faster. “If that’s what you want, then yes. You can have my attention all night.” Preferably with much less clothes involved at some point, but making such a comment now seemed a bit too soon maybe. “Oh, thanks. I know I’m excellent at my job.” Noah winked playfully at the werewolf as he patted his own shoulder. Then he grew a bit more brave and leaned sideways as if to read the menu over the bartender’s shoulder, his arm brushing against Miguel’s and sending an electric shock through him. He ordered for them before turning his attention towards the stranger again. “While the sling didn’t look bad, I have to say you look much better without it.”

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Miguel’s grin was twenty-four karat, for Noah he offered something solid gold, the best that he could offer and it was still free. “Can’t take that back once you’ve said it,” he volleyed with ease, leaning back against the bar once again, his figure as long and languid as a jungle cat. The nurse had a smile of his own that was disarming, and blue eyes to match that made the werewolf continue to sneak glances over at Noah. Perhaps his boldness was not to be underestimated, his smile inched wider at the brush of warm skin against his bare arm— short enough to be an accident, but they were both too clever to know that it was such. “If you think I look good without that, you should see how I look with even less on.” Miguel smirked, “Though, you did get a sneak peek back at the hospital, didn’t you?”

Roman wasn’t sure what was wrong with him as of late. He’d nearly gotten jumped the night before, and he’d drained the man’s energy enough to make him pass out. Granted, he could’ve used his earth abilities, but he’d panicked – and maybe that’s what made him so jumpy the next day. The touch startled him, but he was met with a handsome face and the gay panic settled in his gut. “What? Oh, yeah, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Laila, just take off his pastry.” Roman managed a small smile, “You’re new, never seen you around here before.”

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Miguel looked over at the other werewolf who looked at him as though she was about to snap and he made a face, stepping back a little bit from the counter to come a bit closer to the witch who he had stopped. “You sure?” The question was asked half-heartedly and as he started to eat the food that he had ordered, speaking around the flaky parts of an almond pastry. “Yeah, I just rolled into town.” His Greek was clumsy as a result, but he was quick at putting things together. The wolf lifted his cup, careful not to slosh the contents over the edge of it as he passed off a grin. “Couldn’t resist some tea.”

Miguel stood on the wrong side of the counter, perched over a basket of fries that he had barely waited to cool before digging into— wearing a sheepish expression when a cross looking werewolf walked into the shop. He had thought that he’d of managed to sneak in properly when the reaper who had previously been manning the cash register had all but faded into nothing, but it seemed that he had only caught the tail end of a shift change. He wiped his hands on a stray cloth, stepping back from the food that he had helped himself to. “Unfortunately, this is exactly what it looks like.” He didn’t have any money to cover what he’d taken, and a sly hand reached for a paper box of baklava as he began to back out. “Super sorry about all this, I’ll just you know, get out of your way.” 

    Noah liked to think it was impossible to say no to him when he flashed his best smile. And it seemed to work on the werewolf, at least for now. “It’s not easy, no. It just makes me want to enjoy my off time even more.” Noah had to laugh at the memory of whatever grand escape Miguel thought he had made. No one had cared that much once he was gone, but in the moment it had been fun anyway. “You’re right, there have been no more exit plans after you. How’s the shoulder?” Noah rested his elbow against the bar and playfully rolled his eyes before he waves the bartender over. “Fine, what do you want? I’ll have a wine.”

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Miguel leaned back, studying the other man in full, from the crown of his golden hair to the nice shoes that had undoubtedly been picked out just for this night out. He was handsome, but the selling point was that smile— and the crinkled edges of piercing blue eyes. Guapo, his great aunt María would have said, reaching out to pinch at a dimpled cheek. The werewolf thought it for her, before curving in with interest. “So does that mean I get to have your attention all night? No need to worry about someone coming around with the snack cart to bat me away like a housefly?” Miguel grinned, rolling the shoulder. “Never felt better. Must’ve been the excellent care at the hospital.” His attention shifted to the bartender, and he considered the list of drinks, disregarding their pricetags. “I’ll try the paloma.”