Surprises — A Dempsey (Patreon)

“Oh, hello.”

There’s a small smile on the witch/warlock’s face when they mutter those words. The kind of knowing smile that you can read on P now; one that makes the corners of their mouth twitch into an expression that’s almost a smirk.

It indicates one thing. ‘Things with you and A are serious if you’re at their apartment and opening the door.’

You raise a brow before leaning on the doorframe. “Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter with a sigh, already bracing yourself for the teasing words that are about to fall from P.

“Like what?”

“Like that.” The accusatory words only make P’s smile widen. “Besides, A isn’t even here. They went out to run some errands.”

The European brushes a strand of hair away from their face before adjusting the bag in their hand. “Supernatural errands?”

A sense of delight rushes through you at that question, because, for what feels like the first time in a while, there aren’t any nasty supernatural surprises on your doorstep. No unknown facts, no bargains and bets to be made, no worry that you’re at the centre of any untold story.

For once, there normality. So much so that you can admit the person you like is only running errands.

“No,” you answer happily. “Our dear demigod(dess) is out to get coffee.”

“Because we, of course, know they can’t survive without that.”

You nod. “Exactly.” You pull the door open a little more to open up the space. “A also wouldn’t want you standing out here on their doorstep. Come in.”

As P walks in, they notice that there isn’t much of a difference to A’s place. Everything is orderly as always. Their bookshelves are arranged the way they like them, their journals lay on the coffee table with two pens beside them. There’s a plant in the corner of the room that has recently been watered. It’s all got the A Dempsey touch about it.

Though, there are the subtle differences that shine through. The bits that are your own touches; ones intentionally and unintentionally made. The small things that let you know someone else has been in A’s space, but the same touches that let you know someone A adores has been in their space.

“Even though there isn’t coffee, will tea do?” you question, playing the role of a host.

P nods. “I’d like that.” They follow you to the kitchen with ease; rest their hip on the bar stool as you catch some water for the kettle. “Did you come to visit A?” they ask after a long moment.

It’s a time you question whether a supernatural can sniff out a lie in an instant. Then, your thoughts change to whether your best friend can pick up on a lie if you told one. The same way A floated into your life unannounced, P did the same. Whilst there were similarities, the differences were obvious. The way you and the magical being clicked, the way friendship grew by the day. The way you’re happy to have them by your side.

“I stayed the night,” you concede whilst dropping a tea bag into a clean mug. “It wasn’t my plan to, but I came yesterday and ended up falling asleep.”

A genuine smile curls over P’s lips. “And how comfortable is A’s sofa to sleep on?”

Milk, water and a teaspoon of honey are added to the mug next before your shoulders shrug. “I wouldn’t know,” you answer. “A insisted on me sleeping in their bed whilst they took the sofa. I felt bad, but I was too tired to argue about it.”

A playful gasp falls from P. “A’s generosity is making its way to the surface. Such joy.”

“Stop,” you laugh. Stirring the tea comes next, the tea bag is removed before the mug is slid in P’s direction. Your mouth twists before you say your next words. “I don’t know. I was a little surprised by it too.”

“Which part?” P questions. “That A let you stay the night? That they let you fall asleep in their bed? Or at the fact that A really likes you?”

You blink. “All of the above,” you blurt out.

As P takes a sip of their beverage, the front door open. The jangle of keys are heard next, and at the sight of brunette waves, your stomach does a delicate pirouette. “I hope the two of you are having a brilliant time in my home,” A murmurs loudly enough, no malice to their tone.

P glances over their shoulder. “Oh, we are. Believe me.”

A enters the kitchen and their hazel eyes flit from P to you. There’s a softness in them, a warmth that you can’t quite place, but it’s the same look when they insisted you stay the night. The same look they had in their eyes when they invited you to their apartment for the very first time. It’s a look you’ll always remember. One you’ll cherish.

“Yeah, it sounds like you are,” A utters back. There’s a shopping bag in their hand that they rest on the counter. Before pulling out their much needed coffee, they pull out a brown paper bag. You recognise it. It’s froma well known bakery not far by, and for the moment, without any uttered words, A slides the bag in your direction effortlessly.

Their eyes do all the talking. The gaze in them practically says, ‘I was running errands and I thought of you. I bought your favourite pastries. Go on, take a look.’

And you do. And their talkative gaze was absolutely right. Your favourite pastries and neatly folded napkins with it. It’s something else you can add on the list of surprises, courtesy of A Dempsey.

“I wasn’t planning on staying, anyway,” P murmurs, glancing down at their mug to see they’ve managed to sip just over half of it. They reach over and pull a book out of their bag. “I just came to return this after you let me borrow it.”

A takes the book from their grasp and flicks the pages quickly. “Enjoy it?”

P’s blue eyes sparkle a little. “Indeed. I like when love stories unravel before my eyes.”

Suave. But, for once, P Martens lacks subtlety.

It’s something A picks up on. Easily. Especially with the way the sound of a groan erupts in their throat. “I’m kicking you out now, P.”

P snorts. “Happily.” Their eyes fall on you. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you both later.”

—

In this moment, with you and A alone once more, you can’t decipher them. Whether they’re suddenly regretting letting you in their home, whether you’ve been reading all of this wrong from the get-go.

“I got the right ones?” A blurts out, pulling you from your thoughts.

“What?”

They blink. “From the bakery…”

“Oh,” you utter. “Yes, you did. Thank you.” Your voice faltered ever so slightly, something not many would pick up on. But you’re standing in front of a supernatural, for one; a demigod(dess) that almost knows you inside out. So A noticed.

They scoff a little. “I’m full of surprises today, aren’t I?”

A supernatural with extraordinary hearing.

That should’ve been your first tell. That the opening of the front door was only an indicator of A’s presence, they must’ve picked up on the energy within their own home.

“All of the above, I remember you saying when it came to an exhaustive list,” A pushes. “You would’ve had to have a word with the Gods if I had kissed you. That would’ve probably been enough to send you in a frenzy.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion. At the fact A’s even teased you in the first place. It’s out of character, out of their comfort zone.

But, then again, isn’t falling for anyone outside of A’s comfort zone?