spring

If anyone in the street finds it odd that the large black dog bounding into the shop by itself is shimmering slightly, they don’t say a word to the man walking behind it. To be fair, he doesn’t really look like the kind of person you’d want to engage in conversation in the middle of the street. Or anywhere, actually. And it’s not because he’s unattractive or unapproachable. It’s just a kind of… vibe he’s giving off that makes everyone who passes him avert their eyes and walk just a little faster than before. He doesn’t seem to notice, keeps walking toward the open door hidden beneath a wall of flowers, tugs off his sunglasses as he steps over the threshold.

…

In all the millennia he’s loved her, this is his favorite. The shop is relatively new, but she’d insisted on it. Found an article in a magazine a few years back and all but begged him to let her start a business. (As if she ever has to do anything more than ask him.) They’d visited in the winter when the city shimmered with ice and snow and she’d fallen in love. He was helpless against the way her eyes sparkled, the way her fingers tightened around his arm, the way her body pressed against his. So they bought the store and now…

“Son of Neptune,” he mutters, shutting the door behind him. “You can’t just run into the store like that, skýlos…”

But anything more he wants to say melts away when she looks up at him, already rubbing the belly of the dog sprawled across her hardwood floor.

She is everything. She is spring and summer and winter and fall. She is light and shadow and sun and moon. She is his favorite cardigan and his worn out jeans. She is a heartbeat tapping out a rhythm like a Taylor Swift song against his ribs.

“Hi,” she says, stardust in her eyes as she smiles at him.

“Hi.” Because any eloquence he has disappears around her, every sentence reduced to the smallest breath.

She doesn’t say a word, just quirks her eyebrow a little and smiles a bit wider. It’s a good thing he doesn’t need to breathe, because she’s stolen all the air from the room.

“It’s beautiful,” he blurts.

“What is?” she asks, flicking her hair back, the curl falling perfectly to frame her face.

“The display. The doorway. Your…” he waves his hands “… flowers.”

She beams and her distraction means that her hands go still along the dog, who wriggles to regain her attention. “Really?”

He nods and hums. “I like the narcissus.”

Her smile softens and she takes a breath, gazes up at him. “I was thinking of you.”

He takes a hesitant step toward her, pauses. “Seph…”

Of course that’s the moment the beast leaps up and starts scratching himself frantically. She takes his face in her hands and rubs his snout. “Oh, Cerb. Poor baby. Glamours are no fun, are they?”

“Well, it might be a little noticeable if I walked him down the street with all three heads panting after you.”

She scrunches her nose, tries not to laugh. “Darling, you’ve got to get out more often if you think that’s going to turn heads in this city.”

He shrugs. “Not much to interest me. Just this.”

“Darling…”

“I know,” he mutters, ducks his head away from her sight. “It’s pathetic. Embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“Not what I was going to say,” she says, standing up and stepping toward him. “I think it’s sweet.”

He huffs, continues avoiding her eyes. “How’s the flat?”

“Lovely,” she says. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well…”

“Just accept my thanks, vlákas.”

He meets her gaze and all the cool melts away, frost in a spring morning. “You’re welcome, my love.”

She steps, reaches out, brushes her fingertips over his jacket sleeve. “I wish you could stay.”

“So do I.”

When she twines their fingers together, it’s summer in his blood and he sighs, sinking into her arms, cupping the back of her head with his free hand and pulling her closer. She tucks her head under his chin, takes a deep breath, and he presses a single kiss to the crown of her head.

“Just a few more months,” she whispers. “That’s all.”

“It gets worse every cycle,” he mutters into her curls. “Do you remember when it was just half the year?”

She hums, tightens her grip on his hand and circles his waist with her free arm, tucks her hand beneath his jacket. “I love you in blue,” she says.

“I love you,” he says quietly.

She presses a kiss to his collar bone. “A few more months, darling.”

A whine draws their attention and he sighs. “Fine, Cerberus. We’ll go.”

“Yes,” she says, stepping out of his arms to pet the dog again. “Get that nasty glamour off you, huh?”

Cerberus barks happily at her. She scratches behind his ears and looks back. He’s staring at her, sad and happy and patient.

“I wish,” she begins, but he shakes his head.

“I know.”

“You could stay,” she offers.

“You know I can’t.”

“Really? The Underworld can’t manage itself for one night?”

He swallows, follows the arc of her eyebrow as she stares him down. “I shouldn’t… my brother…”

And her lips are on his, warm and honeysuckled. “Your brother is an asshole,” she breathes. “Give me five minutes.”

While she closes the register and wipes down the counter, he conjures a lead and clips it dutifully onto Cerberus’s collar. By the time she’s ready to go, his hair has started curling up from its previously slicked-back look and Cerb is producing more saliva than a normal mortal dog could.

“I should go,” he says when she walks up to him, keys in hand.

She hooks a finger into his belt loop and tugs him closer. “They can spare you for one night,” she says, and when she kisses him again, he finds it difficult to argue.

And if London has a few unusually chilly nights that spring, well…