I Am Not Cute

Patch and Nora

One Shot

Fluff

Nora's POV

Set after Silence

I shoved the key Patch had given me into the old, rusty lock of the 'maintenance shed' in Delphic Amusement Park. It took a few tries but the lock finally snapped open and I slipped inside, cauisiously peering over my shoulder. I guess, I was still sort of paranoid after everything that has been going on recently. I rarely felt safe anywhere except her. I climbed down into the old tunnels under the park until the rocky, dusty ground gave way to shining black tiles and scones on the walls. I entered the kitchen and found Patch there, sharping a knife with a stone palette.

"Angel," one side of his glorious mouth pulled up in a way that was so familiar to me already. "What a pleasant surprise."

I crossed over to him, almost sliding on the pristine tiles, and smiled up at him. "Hey."

God, he was gorgeous. With eyes as black as the night, and as deep as the ocean, I found it hard to look away from him. His hair was getting longer, just at his shoulders and was the color of a raven's feather, shining and silky – I knew it felt good to run your fingers through. His lips were curved, full and oh-so kissable. There was slight stubble dotted on his squared jaw and I loved it. I loved everything about him – his looks, personality, even his species. Being an angel seemed pretty awesome, even if he was fallen one. I'd give anything for him to become human but I knew it wasn't possible so I was just going to have to deal with the fact that I'll grow old and die whilst he'll stay this marvellous, perfect creature and go one living forever. I try not to dwell on it.

Patch put the knife and palette down on the black kitchen island and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to his chest. I had to strain to see his eyes but it was worth it. He was wearing all black, as usual, but his ball cap dark green for a change. I swiped it off his head and placed it on mine. He grinned down at me.

"You look beautiful today, Nora," he told me in his come-hither voice.

I rolled my eyes, smiling slightly. "You say that every day."

"Well, it's true every day."

"Yeah, yeah, Casanova."

"Damn right."

Grinning widely, Patch swept me up, spun me around and placed me on the counter. I squealed, batting at his thick shoulder. He stood between my legs, hands resting lightly on my hips. I placed my hands on his shoulder and was leaning in for a kiss when he suddenly flipped the ball cap around on my head so the brim was facing backwards. We shared a knowing smile – he's done the very same thing when we had our first kiss.

His lips came down on mine slowly, tasting of mint and leather. His hands skimmed up the inside of my shirt, fingers warm against my skin. He ran his tongue over my bottom lip, demanding access. I happily complied, allowing my own tongue to meet his. I was warm and tingly all over and I really wanted…yeah, I knew what I wanted. Just when things were about to get real interesting, Patch pulled back and gave me a quizzical look.

"What?" I wined impatiently, wanting to kiss him again.

He snickered at me. "Was that your stomach growling?"

"What? Oh, right." I shook my head to clear it. "Yes? I haven't eaten all day."

He frowned at me. "Well, let's fix that."

He stepped away from me and started rooting around in the cupboards, searching through the food he only bought for me. He way he was leaning gave me a great view of his behind and I may have enjoyed it more than I should. He got me a cold can of 7Up from the fridge and set it beside me. I gulped it, just then realizing how thirsty I was. Patch smiled at me and took his hat back. He started pulling ingredients out.

"Taco's OK?" He asked with a smirk, looking at me over his shoulder.

"Perfect."

He handed me a large knife and pointed at the ball of lettuce and tomatoes. "Well, get chopping then. I'll handle the beef, since that is a man's job, after all. And you know fine well, I am all man."

I started blushing like crazy. Patch of course found it all highly amusing. I ignored him and tried not to think of the irony of this night. The last time we'd made taco's Patch had been contemplating killing me in order to get a human body and here I was, with my knife, contemplating stabbing him, the gorgeous jerk.