Chapter Text
He rubs his thumb across the worn and creased card for the thousandth time. The words are faded, but still legible, causing his nerves to pinch with anxiety. With a huff, he tosses the card to the immaculate glass table before him where it lands haphazardly near the sleek black phone he'd tossed away earlier. Just seeing it reminds him of why he took out the card that had been given to him by an old colleague at a company function. It was obviously a joke-a jab at his lack of grace with the fairer sex.
If you can't get laid the conventional way, why not just pay for it.
He climbs to his feet at the reminder of the jeered words and marches across the room until the plush black rug transitions to the cold unforgiving marble. Looking out the floor to ceiling windows the glare of city lights wash over his frame. The faint sound of car horns from the tiny vehicles down below reach him. People scurry down the sidewalks, streaking across streets. There's hustle and bustle everywhere he looks.
Eventually, his eyes focus on his reflection and his lips press thin. Neat, flaxen hair frame a plain, pale face. Green shaky eyes he can't even meet for long. He turns away from himself to face the open expanse of his flat of several years feeling his lungs squeeze tighter and tighter as he sees what he's avoided for as long as he could. Everything is in order from the romance novels lining the bookshelves to the bottles of alcohol lined in their cabinet. The portraits on the walls, the vases in the corners, every knick knack and decoration is used to cover up just how cold and lonely this place truly is.
His fingers curl as his stricken gaze lands on the bouquet of flowers wilting on the table beside the door another reminder of the message he received earlier.
<We need to talk, Meliodas.>
<I don't think this is going to work anymore.>
<I met someone and I really think I owe it to myself to give things a try with him.>
<Meliodas?>
<I'm sorry.>
His stomach drops to his toes. He tightens his jaw trying to stem the intense, roiling disgust for himself that takes its place. He'd thought things had been going well. They'd been on a few dates, held hands even. And she'd been the one to kiss him on his cheek most times. He drags his feet forward as his chest heaves with a laugh that tastes bitter on his tongue. Of course, now he sees it was all just pity and a chance to taste the life of the wealthy. It's always the same. And as he sinks back onto the leather couch, he knows it'll never change.
The white card with gold lettering gleams like a beacon in the city lights. His insides churn harshly, but he doesn't look away immediately. It would be nice to have someone who wants to touch him and be close to him and who wants him in return. It would be a miracle for a woman to look past the wealth, see the quirky guy beneath, and find him appealing.
"That's not going to happen, is it?" He says in a tight voice and picks up the card with finality. His anguished fades and in its place is a numb sense of apathy. "Not unless I pay for it."
The Supreme Deity Agency, the card reads. Where the goddess of your choice is yours to entertain. With narrowed eyes, he slides his phone into his grasp and dials the ten digits that'll take the numbness away in exchange for a modest fee.
~*~*~
With an even breath, he flips the sloshing bottle into the air. With ease, he aligns a thick glass on the bar briefly noting the neon blues and reds that glint off the rim like tiny smeared stars. Without looking away he offers up his hand palm face up, catching the weight of the bottle and tipping it so that amber sloshes into the glass. Hoots erupt at the small show if dexterity before he slides the glass to the smirking man.
New orders pour in. Several Old fashioneds for a group of men wearing ties. Negoronis for the women with bright lipsticks and revealing dresses. Daiquiris, Manhattans, and Dry Martinis. He mixes drinks without batting an eye, the ebb and flow, and rhythm that's required to move as swiftly as he does comes from years of experience. He may be the CEO of Dragon's Sin Inc, but the feeling of just being a figurehead while a plethora of others put work into the company never sat right with him. So he got a part time job at a local bar that sold the brand and his feeling of inadequacy diminished a smidge. As a bonus, all his income there is donated to various charities.
As he flips a towel over his shoulder and grabs two bottles for the next drink. He feels a wry smirk shape his lips. What he would believe to be a redeemable quality in himself, hardly means a thing to most. A ring attempts to reach over the swells of noise a room full of women, men, music, and alcohol can cause. He really only notices it because it's the distinct riff of a favorite song of his. His eyebrows knit as he reaches for his phone. Not many contact him outside of business calls. His father is too busy running his own multimillion dollar company and his brother is off galavanting the globe with his sweetheart. The screen is lit with an unfamiliar number. He swipes the screen and holds the phone between his shoulder and ear. "Hello?"
"Hi! Is this… Meli…odas?"
His breath catches at the bubbly silvery tone that slides through his ear. She has a little trouble saying his name which isn't uncommon. His father is a fan of Arthurian legend and thought it a good idea to name his first born after the knight. He tries to shake the stupor her voice sends him in and respond. "Y-yes! And you are?"
There's a giggle like tinkling bells and he spills a bit of the drink he's pouring. His first spill of the night. "Oh, you sound cuter than I'd imagined!" While this brings heat to his cheeks he can't help but feel confused. "Excuse my manners! I haven't introduced myself yet! I'm the goddess, Elizabeth, from the Supreme Deity Agency. Do you remember making that request?"
At this, his nervous excitement sours. Of course, he recalls. There was a thorough information sheet he had to fill out online. He only got through it with a bottle of Vanya beer. He'd received the confirmation message a few days later requesting he set up a day he wanted to meet with his chosen "goddess". That message has been untouched for several days with the intention of paying for a service he simply has no plans of experiencing. This phone call puts him in quite the pickle. "I do…?"
"I hope you don't mind me calling. You seemed pretty shy in that adorable picture of yours, so I thought I should call first."
Her frank tone brings red to his ears. Her words, however, cause him to harshen his voice and slam the glass on the bar in front of the woman harder than normal. "Look if this is some kind of joke to you-!" At the startled look of the new customers before him, he quickly signals to the other barkeep to handle things for a few minutes and strides into the back. Lowering his voice he plans to end whatever this is, but she speaks before he does.
"This isn't a joke, Meliodas. I wanted to talk to you before we set up a date. I know you just opted for the date option, but this felt right." Elizabeth tells him.
He doesn't hear pity in her tone. Only sweet sincerity which lowers his gaze to the ground. The low lights of the hall don't help him feel any more at ease with how easily her words make him flush. Being able to hear her lovely voice even better doesn't help much either. "Look, Elizabeth."
"Yes, Meliodas?" She coos in a flirty way that has heat flashing down his skin.
It sounds so real, her interest. But he knows, at least with this, money has to be responsible. So he sighs. "I don't plan on setting up a date."
There's a pause. "Did I overstep? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to turn you away!"
These are similar to the lines he expects. But the thickness to her voice and the palpable disappointment that leaks through the phone has his breath catching and his back straightening as his fingers tighten around the phone.
"I wasn't completely honest about why I called and you must've figured it out."
"What?" Is all he can get in before she's rushing ahead.
"You're just so attractive. I couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like too," she confesses in a breathy tone he finds utterly alluring and he has to shift himself as his pants as they become a little too tight. "You sent a bust shot, so I know you're pretty fit. And on top of that, you're a little shorter than me!" She gushes like she found the last of her favorite treat she intends to savor.
Even if he wants to interrupt that tone alone has his throat dry and his heart pounding wildly in his throat. So he squirms with a hard on, his mind whirling with fluster.
"Guys are usually taller, which is okay, I guess. But you're cuddle size. I couldn’t help but imagine how rough your voice would get as you bounced me in your lap while sucking my nipples and that turned you off, right?" She asks sounding genuinely distraught and all he can manage is a croak.
His knees fail him as his blood rushes to both heads, he sinks to the ground with the wall to his back. "N-no," he inhales shakily feeling both mortified and far from turned off. He tries to figure out if this is just manipulation because there's no way she could want him. "I wasn't going to cancel the payment if that's what you're after." He says a little firmer while trying not to breathe too harshly through the phone.
"Am I not attractive to you?" She instead asks sounding no less distraught.
His stomach swoops as his grip on the phone becomes slippery. He's guilty of not having looked at her information. If there's no meeting, what's the point of looking at what he's missing out on. So he stammers nonsensical words, feeling confused at wanting to explain himself. 'She's probably just one of those girls who goes by the principle of things, that's all , ' he reasons feeling like he can finally calm down.
"Meliodas?"
He gasps at the gooey warmth just that imploring use of his name turns his insides into. He may not know her appearance but he can't deny he's entranced by her voice. "Yes, Elizabeth?" He breathes knowing and unable to fight that she has him hooked on that alone.
"I know you have the right to not want to meet me, especially after my bad behavior. But we're on the phone now. Can we at least talk? And after this phone call, you'll never have to hear from me again."
He wets his lips and grapples for words. If it was about just being the principle of the matter, she would've insisted they meet. His eyes blow wide as a seed of hope takes root in his chest. "Okay."
"Really?!" The exclamation brings a tiny grin to his lips as his heart skips. "I promise not to talk about how aroused you make me anymore, if that helps? Guys usually just like to get me on my hands and knees, not hear what turns me on. So if that helps, I won't do it again." She promises in an accommodating way.
He frowns as a heaviness settles in his stomach. She wasn't being dishonest in any way, he realizes. Far from it. She just has no filter. And in a way he recognizes what he's been doing to her, she’s lumping him with the other guys she's dealt with before. "I d-didn't find what you said before unappealing!" He blurts out and covers his face with his hand as his skin positively burns.
"You didn't?"
Her excitement is like fuzzy sparks bubbling in his tummy. He squirms where he sits, his cock becoming uncomfortable in its confinement. "N-no! It was-" Incredibly sexy? The hottest thing a woman has ever said to him? He couldn't possibly say that to her. There's no telling what she'd say in response and with how keyed up he already feels... He chews his lip to collect himself. Then smooths his fingers through his hair, grabbing ahold at the roots. "Can we talk about something else?" The words are stretched upward from his fluster.
She laughs prettily like chimes in the wind and his grip loosens altogether. "Okay! Hmm, what's your favorite food?"
He breathes a laugh finding her enthusiasm cute. "I don't really have one." He admits after sifting through various food items mentally.
"You can't be serious? Not even a favorite sweet or... a guilty pleasure?" The last words sounding hushed as they flow like molten heat off her tongue.
His eyes flutter and his head drifts back to rest against the wall while he swallows. "Your voice." He breathes barely over a whisper, surprising himself with his unbidden words.
There's the sound of a quick breath but no words for a few moments and, instead of a resting place, he uses the wall to bang his head against. At this point, he's breaking new records with how fast he can repel women. But then like a quiet wisp of a breeze, she says, "At least there's something about me you like."
He stops his self abuse, his eyes opening wide. She sounds relieved, elated even in that quiet voice. His palms tingle and his heart flutters up his throat. He works his jaw open a few times as he struggles to figure this woman out. "Elizabeth-"
"Hey Meliodas! The night ain't gettin' any younger!" Is shouted through the hall effectively ending his impromptu break. But that means he has to end his call would be their last form of communication as an appeasement to him. Something fists his heart and squeezes until each word comes out thin. "Elizabeth, I have to get back to work."
"...okay, Meliodas. I guess this is goodbye then?" She doesn't put up a fight despite the gloominess weighing heavy in her tone.
The phone digs into his hand his grip is so tight. "Elizabeth... We can talk again if you want." This is a test, he rationalizes. It has nothing to do with wanting to hear more of her voice and learn more about her as she already has a leg up on him in that department. He told her the payment wouldn't be cancelled and she wouldn't be forced to have a date with him. She has no reason to-
"I'll talk to you soon then!" Latches onto the offer with obvious vigor. "Goodbye, Meliodas."
He's grateful he's already on the ground as his legs would be useless noodles for him to stand on otherwise. "Goodbye, Elizabeth."
The line goes dead.
He gapes at the black screen for several moments as a chasm of excitement threatens to open up in his chest. He's quick to stamp the feeling down though, knowing it's not guaranteed she will call back, and, if she does, she'll lose interest quickly. Still he unlocks his phone and navigates to the number she used. With finality, he saves the new address as Goddess Elizabeth and stuffs the device back in his pocket when he finds the strength to stand again.
~*~*~
A day goes by then two. He stops jumping with every ring of his phone. He accepts what he has known with ice surrounding his heart. The icy tendrils seep over his insides, numbing him and he falls back into the routine of his life.
~*~*~
His fingers fly over the metallic keys of his keyboard, determined to have this proposal written out and delivered to the marketing team by 9:30. He knows there's a way to drive sales through the roof in the female demographic if they altered the advertising of Vanya beer to be an all around drink rather than a pick me up men have after a long day at work. The taste is there, more women just need to be made aware. He's about halfway through the finishing touches, having had to stop to accept calls from his overreaching COO about the new lite line that's still in the development stages. His eyes flick down to the clock in the bottom right corner of the screen. 9:23. He adjusts his target time to 9:45.
A swell of laughter down the hall disturbs his quiet bubble of concentration and he recalls the mini celebration he was invited to for another month of above average sales. He would've gone had his most recent 'fumble in the bedroom' not been one of the topics of discussion. One of the downfalls of being a young bachelor and head of a multimillion dollar company is that his love life, or lack thereof, is easily accessible. His jaw tightens and tension winds down his back. He starts to make more typos than he cares for and the hot frothing ball in his chest swells and swells.
The phone trills.
He boils over. The phone is in his grip and against his ear as his frustration pops and sears in his tone. "What is it this time?"
There's a hesitation that darkens his mood further as the laughter down the hall reaches him once again. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be okay to call since you said... It's fine. I won't bother you again."
"W-wait! Elizabeth!" Meliodas shoots up from his chair as if he can physically prevent her from ending the call. In an instant, his ire has morphed into full bodied quivers as his nerves split open like live wires. "I didn't know it was you! I'm just having a stressful moment at work."
"...Okay!" Bubbliness inflates her tone, and he sinks back into his cushy chair feeling as if he's just fought off a thousand dragons and just scraped by. "I just had the longest two days and… it's so good to hear your voice." She continues genuine, soft, and sounds a little like she is coming up for air after being submerged for too long.
His stomach constricts as he sits up straighter.
"I'm glad I was at least able to speak to you before tonight. I'll let you get back to work now." Elizabeth tells him sounding resigned to the fact.
He looks at his document, then the clock. 9:35. The laughter and chatter spills down the hall again. He swivels his chair around to face the expanse of skyscrapers, blue skies and drifting clouds that exist beyond his window and says, "I was just taking a break. We have time to talk if you're up to it." The marketing proposal can be put off for a few days more if necessary. He can break away from his punctuality for once in his life. Besides, even though he knows nothing about her, Elizabeth's tone hints that she needs it.
"Are you sure?" She sounds like a kid being given permission to have another cookie.
He grins and the swells of his cheeks warm. "Positive." Meliodas shuts out what's happening outside his door and gives the woman who has no reason to even remember his name a chance.
~*~*~
They wind up speaking for hours. He's uncertain of how it even happens. One minute she's teasing him about having his guilty pleasure again and the next they're having a debate on whether a dog or a pig of all things would make a better companion. "Have you ever had your arms around one? They're the cutest things!" He'd laughed not at how ridiculous the idea was, but at how adamant she was. He conceded to her happily, much to her delight.
Through the erratic directions their conversations move, he learns that Elizabeth is a wild cracker to his straight, even flow. She's climbed towering trees as a kid just to see if she could reach the sky better from there. She's never had a pet before but she's befriended a few deers, a pair of hares, and a cute chameleon. She loves dancing in the rain, befriending her bullies, and cooking every meal if she can even though she messes up every single one of them. He's learned that her thoughts wander frequently and has had the time of his life trying to keep up with her. Her mind is brilliant. And everything that comes out of her mouth captivates him. Regardless of how worried he feels that the dull facts of his life might bore her, he latches on to this moment with her, not knowing if he'll ever get another.
"You never asked what my favorite food is." She hints after explaining how she somehow made a disaster of something as simple as a three ingredient batch of cookies.
His cheeks beg for a reprieve from his non stop grinning, but he can't seem to find it in him to do so. Not with her voice so close and his heart feeling the fullest it's ever been. "You're right, I've made a grave oversight. I'd love to know what you would eat above all else." He says while leaning on his desk, the monitor before him long since having gone dark from its inactivity.
"Your cock," she says, like she just disclosed a favorite movie of all time and he chokes on his lurching heart. "Even though I haven't had a chance to taste it yet, I know it'll be as addictive as you are."
His boner he's been graciously ignoring makes its presence known by throbbing against the seam of his slacks. She most definitely wouldn't want his dick anywhere near her person if she saw it, and he would never subject her to its displeasing inferiority. His smile finally wanes.
"But for food," she goes on oblivious to his despairing mood, "I'd have to say... spaghetti."
Even through his dampening mental state, he can catch the change in her tone that hasn't shown up since the start of their conversation. He spreads his fingers against the wood of the desk to alleviate some of the tension gathering, knowing he's approaching something delicate. "Why's that?"
He hears her inhale slowly. "Well, my papa used to make it once a month when I was little. It was sort of a tradition between us that carried on as I grew up. He'd always make the sauce and boil the pasta, but he'd let me help make the meatballs. It was fun trying to see who could shape the better spheres. And dinner would feel so much more special because we made it together." She gives a little laugh that's emotionally charged, and he curls his fingers as if he can hold her hand in his and free her from whatever weight she's carrying. "I don't know. It just reminds me of him."
"I—"
His office door swings open and his receptionist knocks on the door as an afterthought. Her short blue hair is in slight disarray and her hazel gaze is frazzled. "Sir, I apologize for the interruption. But you haven't answered any of your calls or e-mails. We have potential investors from overseas and the new line needs approvals." She tells him, waiting expectantly for answers.
He looks to the black business phone on his desk which he'd purposely sat off the hook and sighs into his cell phone. "I guess my break is over." He reluctantly tells Elizabeth.
"That's okay! You've wasted more than enough time on me today. And I need to get ready myself." She steamrolls over his attempts to say their talk has been anything but a waste of his time, and asks in a breathy way, "Would you want to hear from me again?"
"Absolutely. Definitely." He assures with a vehemence that surprises him, and twists his insides into knots when the voice inside his head tells him he's the personification of insanity.
"Okay, then! Bye-bye, Meliodas!"
His face warms from the powerful wing beats of the millions of butterflies she invokes within his belly, his heart shaking somewhere in his throat as he melts to warm goo. He has to duck his head when he catches the intrigued glint in his receptionist's eyes. "Goodbye, Elizabeth." He takes his phone from his ear when the line cuts and marvels at how close to dead his battery is. The time reads 2:47 pm.
"Sir? A personal phone call has kept you all this time?" The subtle curve of her lips is reminiscent of a predator smelling the exposed blood of its prey.
Meliodas raises an eyebrow feeling his pragmatic attitude reemerge in the face of his employee. He watches her straighten up at his silent, piercing stare before he lowers his gaze to his monitor as he wakes it up. "Whatever has piled up today, I'll get it done by the end of the week, Jalamet. No need to fret." He tells her in a casual way that does nothing to disguise the warning in his tone. His employees may view him as a failure as a person, but this company wouldn't succeed without him.
"Yes, Sir." She snips and shuts his door behind her, none too gently.
His shoulders slump. A pressure builds in his skull knowing this will be the new topic amongst them as they wonder how long it'll take for him to lose this new woman. He hunches inward, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes at the riot they'd have if they knew he had to pay for her to even talk to him to begin with. He only stops when he's certain he's forced his anguish back and bright starbursts overtake the darkness of his vision.
When the doc glares half finished at him, he decides he'll try and squash any lingering sense of obligation she feels towards wanting to satisfy him. No amount of money should force her to have anything less than the best. He ignores his insides crumbling into a bleak abyss and scarcely dares to hope that she might want to at least be friends.
It would certainly be nice to have one.
~*~*~
Their talks continue well into the next week. For hours at a time each morning, he's hers. He's learned to use his Bluetooth in order to multitask. He gets work done slower than usual, but in exchange he discovers more about Elizabeth. Her likes, dislikes, hobbies, a toe dip into the experiences she's had in life, and he tentatively starts to open up to her as well.
Being the oldest son of a business guru offered him a certain childhood. One where he couldn't step out of line, he had the highest expectations to live up to, and the footsteps of his father he had to follow in. He's used to abiding to his narrow path in life, to working all day and drowning out the silence that lingers in his home by busting a few extra hours as a barkeep at night. Though he tries not to bring this up to her. His younger brother had it a bit easier growing up, being allowed to grow and flourish outside of the influence of their father.
Instead of going into too much detail on his lackluster life, he tells her stories he and Zeldris share. Like when he taught the younger to ride a bike and rollerblade, how to keep his nose out of trouble, and how to throw a punch to defend himself or the defenseless.
"Zeldris is a great man. Gelda is lucky to have him," he tells her one morning while nursing his coffee.
"He takes after his brother. Any woman would be the luckiest in the world to wind up with you, Meliodas." She declares without hesitation, having a hushed quality to her voice.
He had gone quiet after, not believing it to be true—wanting it to be the truth for her when he knows he shouldn't—only opening up again after she had gently coaxed him into talking about his love of antique swords.
During their talks, Elizabeth had gone radio silent for another two days, and when they reconnected she sounded free and as unfiltered as ever. But there was a weighty relief to her tone too. She never spoke of those days when usually she enjoys going on about the people she's seen or the random bits that fill up her time. It's quite easy to put together that something unpleasant happens during her time away. No matter how much the desire to be rid of whatever darkness that encroaches upon her light demands to be set free, he won't press her on it. Not unless he's sure that's what she wants. It would be the least he could do after she's been kind enough to grace him with her voice nearly each day.
~*~*~
The trill of his cell phone jolts from his slumber. For a moment, Meliodas just lies there eyes bleary and burning from being awoken from a deep sleep. The ringing continues and he lets out a heavy breath. Reaching blindly, his arm bangs against the wood of the side table before he snatches up the sleek device and swipes to answer. "Hello?"
"Meliodas?" Elizabeth's voice is stretched thin, vibrating with distress.
His drowsiness is washed away in icy shocks. His breathing escalates, his muscles tensing as he prepares to hunt down the reason she's calling at one in the morning in obvious worry. "What is it? What's happened?" His voice scrapes low in his throat, sharp and demanding. When she gasps but doesn't speak, he inhales, holds it for three seconds, then asks in a marginally smoother tone, "Are you okay?"
"Ye-yes, I just… I had a nightmare. Silly, right?" She laughs but it's a thin rickety frame barely resembling the full laughter he's used to.
His tensing doesn't fade. His eyes even glance towards his keys on the table though he doesn't know where she lives. Her fright could be from her panicking from a nightmare, but the fist tightening around his stomach says otherwise. "It's not silly. I'm glad you called."
"Even though I woke you up?" She sounds tiny and frail. A far cry from the spirited woman he's come to know.
A throb kicks up in his skull. His vision tints red for a split second. "Yes. I want you to call me if you're ever," he chooses a different word so as not to unwittingly drive a wedge between them, "afraid. Okay?"
She breathes a smooth, easy sound. "Oh, I wish you were here with me now. Instead…"
Her words fill his lungs with crisp air. "Elizabeth…" As they've gotten to know each other, he hasn't been brave enough to bring up the label of friendship between them as that's all he'll allow himself to have with her. Anything more and she'll surely be repulsed. But it's comments like that that drag him thrashing back to reality. Even though they've become friendly, there's still a part of her that he assumes feels obligated to flirt because he paid for that and more.
"What were you dreaming of before I woke you?" She prods after he struggles with his tongue for too long sounding a smidge less shaken.
He follows her subtle wishes, going with her conversation in hopes of calming her down. Forcefully loosening his muscles, he rests against the cool wood of his headboard, his pillows at his power back. "I don't know. I..." He attempts to capture the dreg of memory that evades his every swipe, knowing there was something good about his dream. He takes a harsh breath when he gets ahold of it, feeling the dream open up like a bomb in his hands. It was a dream with vague visuals and sharp scents, sounds, and sensations. His skin feels as if it's inches from the sun as he remembers in great detail a soft, warm body over his, her lips feather soft on his. There was silken tresses dusting across his cheeks, her belly fluttering gasps and moans in his ear, and wet, molten heat grinding along his cock, teasing the weeping head until his heart felt like it would burst and he was ready to fall apart before her eyes.
"I was dreaming of nothing, Elizabeth!" He rushes out in a rasping voice feeling his hardon that had wilted before making a powerful, aching resurgence.
"You sound all cute and flustered," she giggles a sweet revived sound and that alone shapes a broad albeit nervous grin to his lips. "Which means you're hiding something... Oh! Was it a naughty dream?I hope you were doing things to me..." She breathes and he squirms at the hot flash of unbridled need this causes.
"The other way around." The truth flits free of its cage and, with desperation, he wants to swallow it back. His breathing ceases. He prays she misheard. She doesn't need to be guilted into anything else.
Her breathing comes shaky in his ear and he wants nothing more than for the earth to open up and remove his disgraceful being from its soil. "You really want that? Because I want—"
There's a faint bang in the background.
"I'm sorry! I have to go."
There's a thick silence against his ear. He stares at the black screen, motionless. A million and one possibilities fire off through his skull of why she really called. They're enough to have him up and out of bed in search of her, but he forces himself to remain where he is. He keeps his phone close by, the ringer turned up high, and lies back down stiffly. He begs anyone listening to keep her safe, because the thoughts floating through his mind like an ominous cloud point to nothing good. He tries to reassure himself that she works with a well known agency, if there is any suspicious activities occurring they would nip it in the bud immediately. Despite the assurance, he doesn't sleep that night, having wound himself so tight, ready to spring into action if she called again.
She didn't. Not that night, or the day after, or the one after that. His own calls to her go straight to voicemail. He realizes with each failed attempt to connect what situation he's cornered himself into. With each utterance of her voice, she wove a thread around him, unique and as breathtaking as he's come to know her. Everytime his mood sinks low he thinks of something silly she said, or the sound of her laughter, or simply of her, and he smiles, his emotions improving in a blink. Despite his carefully placed barriers between them, he unwittingly left breaches she's darted her way through and now she's embedded down deep in his being with no way of removing her in sight.
He wants her. In his arms as they cuddle on the couch watching movies she swears by., in his bed as he moves between her legs, satisfying her in a way that can only be fantasy. But she doesn't want him. Her words before she abruptly cut the line play through his mind and he's forced to amend his thoughts. She could want him, but only because she hasn't met him in person. But once she has, the reality will jar her from whatever illusion she created of him. Because no one would ever truly want him, his past relationships has made that very clear.
But he could still meet her. Even though she wouldn't want him sexually, she could still want to keep their friendship in tact. He'd be able to live with that without complaint. And as a friend she can turn to and trust him. He would carefully pull her from the situation he fears she's in, and gladly take care of whatever is threatening her.
His phone rings in his hand early the third day. He answers without missing a beat. "Hello? Elizabeth? Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm perfect now that I can hear your voice." Her unfiltered honesty cuts through his preparation for this call like a hot knife through butter.
His keys slip through his fingers at the door as he squeaks before coughing to disguise the sound. But she's heard it already, her tinkling laugh like music to his ears. "I'm sorry to have called so early, Meliodas. I just..." She trails off and he snatches his keys up from the darkened wood to keep his hand busy as his nerves begin to run rampant.
"No, it's fine, Elizabeth. I needed to hear you too. I..." He fills his chest with air and takes the plunge. "If you let me do the leading, I wo-wouldn't... mind... se-seeing you..." His cheeks prickle as he hunches his shoulders and bears the fierce thumps of his heart in his chest.
There's a thick gasp. "Meliodas. Meliodas, yes! Yes! I want to be there in front of you right now." She says all in one enthusiastic breath that requires him to brace his back against the door and slump to the ground as the flips of his stomach overwhelms him. "Where are you? I can come this instant! We can have breakfast while watching the sun rise and I just know the tension will be so thick from being so close to you and gazing into those soulful green eyes. I hope you kiss me right there, then take me bent over the table—"
"Elizabeth!" He cries out, voice straining from how achingly vivid that scenario is with the table in question in the corner of his eye.
"Hmm?" She sounds a bit lost in thought and he just knows by the tightening in his pants that she's fantasizing about it at that very moment.
He lets his head fall back with a thump to the wood, his heart filling with pangs at how incredible that would be if it were in any way at all possible. "I was thinking I could make you dinner instead?"
"Tonight?" She eagerly asks.
He swallows having thought he'd have a little bit longer, but if tonight is what are wants... "Yes. How about 8?" He rattles off his address knowing she'd agree.
"I'll see you later, Meliodas." Her voice lowers to a sensual note of promise.
"I'll se-see you." He breathes shakily, then ends the call. 'Just get through the day and I'll see her tonight.' He bottles the flood of panic this causes tight in his chest and pushes himself to his feet. He has to do a quick sweep of his kitchen to be sure he has the right ingredients before heading off to work. Hopefully with this being the start of the week he'll have enough tasks to help him blaze through the day.