A Dempsey — Distraction (Patreon)

“Dempsey.”

A raises a brow as you walk in. They don’t even need to look at you to know it’s you who’s said their name. A could say it’s down to their supernatural senses, and it wouldn’t exactly be a lie, but it’d be insulting to only give credit to their abilities.

There’s something about the demigod(dess) when they fall in love. When they feel the padlock around their heart happily loosen, when one of A’s guards is slowly lowered, and they let you waltz in.

They let you find their way around their heart; find out what makes them tick, the particular moment A fell in love with you. It’s a specific moment, one A hasn’t muttered out loud, but if you looked in the pages of their last journal—you’d find it.

“Hm?” A mutters, somewhat distracted, but their attention quickly shifts to you when you go deeper into the room. “What are you hiding behind your back?”

Your eyes suddenly roll. It’s not exactly that you were hiding something, but there is a bad behind you that is a gift for A somewhat.

“Aren’t you always observant,” you utter back. You move to take a seat beside them, watch as they drop the pen in their fingers onto the coffee table.

“When it comes to you, yes,” A says back with ease.

Months ago that response would’ve startled the both of you. It would’ve been something A overthought a million times over, for someone who’s so used to swallowing and digesting their emotions without an outward reaction—words like that are far from regular.

But, a simple human like yourself was enough to change that.

A smile curls over your lips, you rest your hand on A’s knee for a moment and whilst you knew they were stressed from the way they sounded on the phone, their tense muscles beneath your palm confirm it.

You pull a container out of the bag you’re holding, and then take out two forks. “I stopped by at that bakery you like.” You pass a fork to A. “New York style cheesecake.”

A isn’t usually one for beaming smiles. Sarcastic grins, a lopsided smile that people question whether it’s genuine, but with you; right now—a light smile is what you get. And, for now, it’s good enough for you.

You wait a moment. Decide not to push any further until you open the container to reveal a beautiful slice of cheesecake. One that’s neatly decorated with fresh strawberries and a lovely syrup.

When it comes to cheesecake, A never needs an invitation. It reminds them of the good times in their lives, the celebratory times; the feelings of a home they’ve never really come to terms with parting with. They stick their fork into the slice, open their mouth and let the flavour dance over their tongue.

Immortality is certain for them. But if there’s a chance A would ever see heaven, cheesecake would be present.

“You sounded stressed out on the phone,” you say, letting your thoughts take a voice of their own.

A blinks. They shake their head a little before going in for another mouthful. “It doesn’t mean you had to do this though. I’m not complaining but still.”

What no one tells you is that when you fall for someone who’s used to digesting the way they feel, it means asking or accepting comfort and help can be tricky.

You shrug your shoulders. “I wanted to.”

Their brows furrow. Why? Because A is one of the people in this world who’s expected to be strong, one who should have no fear, one who should act on logic and nothing more than just that.

This new territory, with you, for A is confusing. Heartfelt, endearing, everything they could’ve possibly dreamed of—but still difficult to wrap their head around.

The asking. The wanting. The longing.

A drops their fork to the side before glancing at you. “I’m just saying, it wasn’t essential.”

Your eyes lock to their hazel ones. On a day like today, green is a little more visible than the mixed in brown colour. Truthfully, it’s a gaze you could swim in, sink into almost.

“Are you enjoying it?” you question, a slight sternness in your voice. “The company and the cheesecake, I mean.”

A’s eyes flit over you. “It’s no secret that I enjoy your company,” they say in a strong tone. “Or cheesecake.”

“Then do exactly that,” you throw back quickly. “Enjoy it.”

The cheesecake is almost forgotten. It definitely is when A’s gaze doesn’t leave you. Even more so when they gradually lean forward, in such a slow action that you genuinely wonder what they’re going to do.

A lifts a hand up to your face. It rests on your cheek, and before you know it, their forehead is against yours. Their muscles have relaxed slightly, you can feel it, you mentally pat yourself on the back for it.

In a past life, A would tell themselves to stop being so weak. To stop looking for affection that they don’t deserve.

But times have changed and a lot happens between them. Like the fact that such an intimate act is enough for A to feel like their problem has halved.

Your arms go over their shoulders, and subconsciously, A’s are around your middle.

“It seems like you forget, Dempsey,” you murmur, closing your eyes softly and breathing them in.

“Forget what?”

“That I’ll come when you call,” you utter. “And I know you’d do the same for me.”

In a fucking heartbeat, A thinks to themselves.