A/N: Hello. Supernatural - guilty. I started watching it and I kinda couldn't stop. And I love so many characters it almost hurts. Luce is one of them. ;u;
This is just a PWP or how do you call it, but I wanted to write it just because.
You look with resignation at the dress you’re holding in your hands.
- I swear this dress was large enough last time I checked – you exclaim to no one in particular, throwing the dress at your bed with a frown. You really hoped it would fit, because you were gonna go to the restaurant with your friends. Fancy, expensive restaurant that they invited you to – what am I supposed to wear now? I don’t have anything nice!
- Why wear anything? You’re just fine like this – an amused voice comes from your door you could swear was closed just a moment ago, making you jump in surprise and turn around quickly. Of course, it’s your friend Luce. He and his brother never seemed to care about this thing called ‘privacy’. But why would they, they both aren’t really humans. That is, from what you know Gabe knows human habits better because he pretended to be human for a longer time than Luce, whom you just need to explain much too many things. You blush, embarrassed that he sees you only in your underwear.
- W-what are you doing? Get out, I need to get dressed. – you grab the towel lying on the bed and cover yourself with it, still blushing and frowning. But Luce of course does the exact opposite of what you want him to – he comes further into your room, closing the door behind him.
- I heard you saying you don’t have anything to wear – he teases with a smirk, only making you frown deeper.
- It was a metaphor, Luce. Besides, I’m still in my underwear, get out. It’s inappropriate. Privacy, remember?
- Why? It’s like you were wearing a swimsuit, it covers just enough, especially that we’re friends and I don’t see why would you mind it – Luce actually seems confused.
You have to admit, he does have a point. You know each other for so long it shouldn’t be a problem. But... It is. You are. But it’s not your fault you’re fat, all right? You just don’t want Luce to see your naked body, you know you’re not pretty. And... You may or may not have a little crush on him, but refuse to admit it. He wouldn’t want you anyway, not someone looking like you. He’s handsome really, he could have any girl he wanted to, and you... Well. But you couldn’t tell him something like this. “Hey Luce, I’m just too fat and ugly and I also have a crush on you, so I don’t want you to look at my ugly body” didn’t seem like much of an option.
- Um... Just leave me alone, all right? I’ll find something and join you and Gabe downstairs.
Luce must have noticed that you suddenly seemed a little sad. Or maybe it were his mind-reading skills, but he agreed to not do that to you, and you really hoped he kept the promise.
- What is the matter, (Y/n)?
- What? Nothing.
- You’re a terrible liar.
- No I’m not.
- All right, you’re not. But I can still see something’s wrong, what is it?
Luce seems genuinely concerned, it only makes it worse. What are you supposed to tell him? But with your lack of improvising skills he’ll just push the subject until you explain. You know Luce, he’s not one to let things go easily. All right, half truth is close enough, right?
- I just don’t want you to look at my naked body. I don’t anyone to look at it.
- Because I’m fat. I’m ugly. I’m not like all those pretty girls out there, skinny and happy with their boyfriends or girlfriends... Everyone will always look at me differently because I’m not like I should be.
- Oh – Luce looks surprised, and then thoughtful – but you’re not ugly.
- Glad you think like that. But I’m still fat.
- In human standards of twenty first century, yes.
- Is that supposed to make me feel better?
- Yes. I mean, you need to understand something. You humans have ridiculous, unnatural standards, and I need you to understand it doesn’t matter.
- Look. You do realize it’s not my real body, right? That it’s just a human vessel I chose because of it’s ability to contain me and not blow up?
- Yes… I do realize. And what does it have to do with anything?
- In my true form I have a few pairs of wings, and I’m in size of the thing you would call ‘skyscraper’.
- If you say so.
- Look. The point is, that I’m not human. I’ve never been. Why would I possibly care about your human standards?
- I... I don’t know.
- Exactly. Look, for me humans are just humans. Some weight more, some weight less, but why would that matter to me? You’re all humans, no matter what your body looks like.
- I suppose you’re right...
- Besides, you humans keep changing your mind. If you were born just a few centuries earlier, you would be considered far to skinny. Human women are genetically supposed to be large, this century’s worship for skinny people is just ridiculous and it doesn’t make any sense.
- I... Right again I guess.
- Just please, understand that your body doesn’t matter. I don’t care what your sick, pathetic society thinks about me, you, or anyone. It shouldn’t matter to you too. I like you for who you are, not for how you look.
Now that you think of it, the things he’s saying actually do make sense... You have no idea how he managed to do it, but it does make you feel better, so you let go of the towel, and smile at him brightly.
- And about the restaurant visit... For me, you can wear the potato sack and you’ll still be the most beautiful creature there.
- Thanks... You think I’m beautiful?
- I believe that’s what I just said.
You don’t protest when he leans closer. You don’t turn your head, you don’t look away. Instead, you just seem to be glued to his beautiful, blue eyes. You can swear they look like he was seeing the inside of your soul. Maybe he could do that, actually.
- W-what are you...
- Remember when you thought that you hoped I kept the promise of not reading your mind?
- I do... Wait. You didn’t! – you exclaim angrily, realizing what it meant.
But you don’t have a chance of protesting when his lips finally touch yours. And your entire will to argue just decides to screw it and quit, as you melt into the kiss. You have no idea how his hands got on your waist, or how YOUR hands got into his hair, but you do know you absolutely don’t want them to stop being there.
You don’t know when did his tongue touch yours, nor when did you lie down on the bed, with Luce on top of you. But you’re currently convinced you’re in heaven, so you don’t give a damn about it. You only hope it can last forever.
Of course it ends to quickly, with Gabriel clapping and smirking at you from the doorway, but screw Gabriel really. He can wait. And the restaurant can wait. Right now everything can wait.