BAYOU

sacred water

Angel was whistling to himself, getting a nice scrub in with Sugarplum's fancy little loofah, using up as much hot water as he could manage the following morning.

Rising early was customary, and as being an errand boy for Father Jones wasn't on his agenda today, the next best thing was to make his little southern belle's life a living hell.

He was in the middle of using her brown sugar body wash liberally, reveling in that sweet, familiar scent of hers while he sang a tune, dipping his fingers in her sugar scrub, and spreading its cookie dough scent on every visible part of his body.

Honestly, Angel loved his home away from home, no matter how grumpy and uptight his only friend was. To be fair, he did almost drop her out of his window. But they were passed that.

Her little apartment was nice and feminine, candles everywhere, not too shy with using pink accents... she'd better get used to it because Angel was going to make himself very familiar. Enough so that he'd know which cabinet was for Tupperware and which one was for spices.

Like a menace, he dried off with the towel she had hanging from the rack and even wrapped himself up in her pink furry robe right next to it.

She was still sleeping but obviously not peacefully, as she was drenched in sweat, tossing and turning. Poor Sugar. Bad dreams were no joke. He was about to wreak havoc elsewhere in her home but paused for a moment, something like empathy tugging at him, a feeling he was learning to get used to when it came to her.

"Azúcar." He whispered, testing to see if she'd wake up.

She full on started squirming in her sleep then, still mumbling incoherently.

He sucked his teeth, grabbing a rag from under the bathroom sink, wetting it to dab at the sweat beads gathering at her temples and on her arms.

"You're having a bad dream." He said to her. Probably that guilty conscious of hers coming back full force. Just sitting bedside, he was able to hear her pulse pounding. "It's all a dream."

Angel dabbed at her forehead more, only hesitating at their proximity.

It was the first time he'd been so close without her caution or worry or defense. He drank her in while he had the freedom to do so, the way her lips took up most of her face with that fullness, her soft features and slightly upturned eyes, high cheekbones, dark brown skin. She really was a princess, the picture of femininity. And prettier than both of her sisters combined, not that he'd ever tell her that.

Just as he was about to put some space between them, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck like a holster.

"Lucas?"

Oh she was beyond disoriented.

"Do I really look like that old man?" He wiped at her eyes with the pad of his thumbs.

She blinked a few times for clarity. "Angel."

"Ding, ding, ding."

Surprisingly, she made no moves to let him go.

He gestured for her to loosen her grasp from around his neck but she let out a protest.

"You want me to hold you?"

She nodded.

He started to make a joke or break the moment, or lighten the mood, or say anything but nothing. Kid that this was the type of crazy he liked or ask her to beg for it, but despite his situational awareness not being the most stellar, he bit his tongue and obeyed her. This time.

Angel wouldn't patronize her about it either. This was a moment he'd let her forget because in this bed she looked so tiny and alone and afraid. Similar to when she walked away from him in the faculty restroom, she just shrank right before him, and even if he was an asshole to her sometimes, he had his limits.