"i don't belong to you" natalie to satan :))))
Recently, Natalie found that talking any guy for any length of time was becoming nearly impossible. Whether it was a cashier, a waiter, or just someone she bumped into on the street, she couldn’t make two minutes of friendly conversation without Satan huffing, rolling his eyes, glaring, and just being plain rude.
After he’d scared this latest one off — one of her classmates asking about how she’d been, since she’d missed a lot — she rounded on him, jabbing a finger into his chest.
“What,” she enunciated, “is your problem?”
He looked down at her from where he’d been glaring after the poor guy, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest.
“I don’t have a problem,” he said, and began walking again though she had been the one leading them to their destination.
“Oh, no, no, no,” she said, running around him and putting both hands on his chest. She knew, in retrospect, she couldn’t have made him stop, but the implication seemed to work well enough because he did.
“What?” His voice was little more than an irritated growl, and usually she wouldn’t hesitate to let it slide and laugh at him until his sour mood dissipated, but this had gone on for too long.
“Don’t act like you have any right to be annoyed right now. If anyone should be annoyed, it’s me.”
That one eyebrow stayed arched, and she huffed.
“Ever since — ever since Jericho,” she said, unconsciously lowering her voice even though there was nothing damning about the name itself, just the circumstances that had surrounded it, “you haven’t let me talk to anyone.”
He remained silent and she felt her frustration grow.
“You can’t scare off every guy I meet. I’m not—” She realized suddenly, by his brooding and his refusal to answer her questions, that this couldn’t possibly have to do with Jericho. At least, not the worse parts of him. “Ohmygosh,” she breathed, then smiled, slowly.
“What the fuck are you grinning about?” he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“You’re jealous!” she cried, giddy. “Ohmygosh, that’s it!”
Her laughter cut him off, and he glared more viciously than before.
“I’m not fuckin’ jealous. Why would I be jealous? And over who? That kid who uses more product than you do? The scrawny dude with acne at the store?”
His defensiveness only convinced her further than she was right, and she calmed her giggles and soothed her features into something resembling sympathy.
“I can’t believe you’re jealous of that cashier.”
“I said I wasn’t!” he barked, and Natalie’s careful composure busted in another round of laughter. She reached out, prying his arms apart, and took both of his hands.
“Don’t worry,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “No one can ever take your place. But you can’t keep doing this. I don’t belong to you, even if my soul might.”
He winced at the joke, and she clutched him tighter. Too soon, maybe.
“Please stop scaring every guy I talk to. I don’t want to end up some kind of hermit just because everyone is afraid of talking to me because of you.”
He was silent for a moment, stony, before his features relaxed.
“It’s not my fault no one who wants to talk to you has any balls.”
Natalie rolled her eyes, but turned to resume walking, dropping one of his hands. She swung the other between them. It was as close to an apology and a concession she was gonna get.
“You’re my best friend, y’know,” she said, smiling at him.
“Contrary to your belief, I did hear you the first fifteen times you said that. Supernatural hearing and all.”
“The reminder doesn’t hurt.” She nudged his shoulder. He nudged her back, a little harder, as his chest constricted painfully.
The repetition itself was harmless enough, but the implications left him with an ache that wouldn’t cease.
Best friend. Nothing more.