The Devil Named Deimos

Disinfecting

Kinda short one, sorry peoples. But hey, two chaps in one day makes up for it, right? :)

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"Deimos," I whisper softly, stepping closer and assessing his wounds. He just looks at me, his eyes full of pain. I touch his hand, lifting it away from his face to see the cut, and sparks simmer through me.

"I don't need your pity, Aurora." Deimos' stares down at me, his golden eyes piercing into mine. His voice is husky and its baritone waves makes me shudder internally.

"We have to take you to the hospital, come on." I grab his arm, tugging him towards the elevator. Ignoring his words, I let worry take over me.

"No," Deimos abruptly says, stilling me. "No hospitals," he says more softly this time. Rosalind's words come back to me. He probably had a bad experience with hospitals, since they weren't able to save his mom.

"I have a first aid kit in my apartment then, I can at least make sure those cuts don't get infected," I urge him. Deimos looks at me again, and his broken eyes make my heart swell in sympathy. He gives me a slight nod, and I open the door to my apartment, holding it open for Deimos to enter. I swing off my heels and place them on the floor as soon as we are inside. 

I notice him looking around as he follows me to the bathroom, he has never seen my place before. We enter my guest bathroom, since my personal one is a mess at the moment, and Deimos leans against the counter. I stand on my tippie toes and manage to get a hold of the first aid kit in the cabinet, setting it down on the counter.

I notice Deimos watching me, and out of nowhere I hear him chuckle. My ears revel in such a delicious sound, but I raise my eyebrows in question. 

"You're really short," Deimos states, biting his lip as he stares at me. His expression is etched with amusement, which bewilders me considering how many punches he just took. I narrow my eyes at him as pink begins to tinge my cheeks. I hate my height, and I hate being reminded of it. 

"Wow you're so observant, Captain Obvious," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes at him. I walk closer to him and motion for him to sit on the counter, which he does.

I take a damp towel and begin to wipe off the blood from his chest, my eyes enjoying the sight of his washboard abs. I can feel Deimos' eyes watching my every move, and his body tense. 

"I think it's cute," Deimos says in a playful tone. My hand nearly stops moving as I process what he just said. The pain is finally getting to him, and his head. I narrow my eyes at him doubtfully as I begin to wipe the blood from his face. 

"Do you have a personality disorder that I'm not aware of, Mr. Themis?" I ask him, in a playful manner, but a part of me is serious. Deimos is so strange that I never know with him. He lets out another deep chuckle at my question, his form vibrating under my hand. 

"You'll never know," Deimos says in a teasing tone, but I feel more depth to his words. My eyes meet his, and both of our eyes stay locked, his golden orbs pulling me in. Suddenly, his face loses its playful demeanor and his jaw tenses. "What were you and Marcos planning on doing tonight?"

I stop wiping his face at that, and set the towel down. It was an innocent question, but his voice was so dangerously low that it made it sound like I was committing a crime.

Letting out a sigh, I run my hands through my hair, messing it up. I reach for the antiseptic, thinking of a response. 

"We were planning on doing each other, obviously," I say in a deadass tone, playing with him.  I douse a new towel with antiseptic, and I feel his gaze burning into me. 

"I see." Deimos' voice is so low, it strikes a nerve in my lower region. My eyes met his which are a mess of melting gold; they have never been more full of fire. I notice his hands clench tightly on the counter's edge. His response shocks me, I was just fucking around. 

Stepping closer to him, I hold his face in my hands and lightly press the towel onto his cut. Deimos recoils slightly in pain, and I have to force myself to keep the towel there. 

"I was just kidding, Deimos. Leon set us up without me knowing about it," I softly explain to him as I place a band aid on the cut on his face. My hand lingers on his face after I place the band aid on it, staring into his eyes. His proximity is making my insides overheat.

"You deserve someone better than that bastard, Aurora," Deimos mumbles as I continue to disinfect his other cuts. My heart warms at his words, and I gently place another band aid on his chest. 

"Funny, isn't it?" I snort, "The only man who has shown genuine interest in me is a sex offender." My words intend to be humorous, but my tone is dry. I place the last band aid on his chest, but Deimos grabs my wrist before I can pull away. 

"I find it hard to believe no other man has took interest in you, Aurora." Deimos stares at me, and I think there is actual curiosity in his eyes, but I brush it away. He is probably building up to mock me. I sigh and turn to wash my hands. 

"Trust me, it's not that hard to believe," I shoot him a tight smile and place the first aid kit back into the cabinet. "Do you want some dinner? I can whip something up." I walk out the bathroom, and towards my kitchen. 

As I open my fridge to look at possible ingredients, I see Deimos take a seat at one of the bar stools at my kitchen counter. I take a hairband from my wrist and absentmindedly tie my hair up. Deimos rests his chin on his fist, watching my every move. 

I take out some marinara sauce and cheese from the fridge, along with a box of pasta shells from my cabinet. Setting them down next to the stove, I jump as I see Deimos has taken the position of leaning against the counter closer to me. 

"I can help, if you want," Deimos offers, his eyes already scanning the ingredients. Without waiting for my reply, he walks over to the open fridge. "First of all, we're going to need more flavor, besides the cheese and sauce."

"Sure thing, Gordon Ramsey, what do you suggest?" I watch Deimos pick out more ingredients from the fridge and cabinet, mumbling to himself what he needs. My eyes take notice of the muscles in his back as he leans farther into the fridge to reach something; my mouth runs dry. 

"Well, Rachael Ray, I think these will do," Deimos says as he tosses more items onto the counter. My lips turn up, he watches Food Network too. There is humor twinkling in Deimos' eyes as he faces me, his hands casually in his pockets. A hint of a smile tugs at one end of his lips, making my insides dance with giddiness. 

"Let's get cookin', Mr. Ramsey."

It was starting to feel hot in here, and the stove wasn't even on yet.