"Callie, I'm hungry! Hurry up!" I call out, propping my feet up on the armrest. "I'm gonna watch the movie without you!"
"It's not even out of the oven yet, Hailey, geez. You won't die of starvation in three minutes." He laughs from the kitchen. He's been in such a good mood lately--possibly because of the date with Dante a few days ago. I've even seen the idiot hang around a bit more in school, while we're on our way to Vesci's, or leaving to get some lunch. Sure, it's just a casual "Hey Caleb okay I'm gonna go now cause I'm still really antisocial but it's the thought that counts alright bye", but if it makes Caleb happy... "Or do you want to come over here and show me how to make a proper bowl of ramen?"
I pout, turning up the volume on the TV. "Shut up. I shouldn't've told you about that." Silly me, telling Caleb that the reason I eat all his food is because I haven't learned how to cook yet. He insisted on making me food from now on, as long as I don't eat all his money. Hah.
"Yeah, well, you kind of did," His snicker is still audible over the ambient music on the title screen of movie we're gonna watch.
"I got it!" I chirp, running over to the front door. "Hello, welcome to--Oh, it's you." I frown.
Dante stands there on the porch, hands tucked in his pockets. His hair is all mussed up, like he just woke (impossible, since we just saw him at work a couple of hours ago to tell him we were gonna watch a movie tonight as recompense for me having to get my butt to work the other day), and his usually popped up collar is bent and crooked. There's even dirt on his jacket, slung over his right shoulder, and a tear in his pants that doesn't look fashionable at all. I'm about to comment on his disheveled appearance when I notice the contusion on his cheek, partly obscured by his hair. And is that blood dripping from his arm? "What the hell happened to you now?"
"Dante?" The brunette sounds worried. Crap, he must've heard.
The idiot in question gives me a glare, shaking his head when Caleb doesn't emerge from the kitchen just quite yet. "Are you going to let me in or not?"
"Oh." I lean against the door frame, crossing my arms. "No."
He bares his teeth at me--so like the animal he is--then flickers his eyes over my shoulder. "Look, I'm fine. I just got into a fight, that's all. Now let me in."
"Do you want to have Caleb worrying over you?" I snap as quietly as I can. "Fuck's sake, you're bleeding!"
"Would you keep it down? I know I'm fucking bleeding, thank you." He straightens, drawn up to his full height after having been slouching on one leg. "Now, if you'd be so kind, I'd like to come inside."
My frown deepens as I look down the length of his body again. Besides that bloodstain on his forearm and the bruise, he doesn't look too injured, I guess...but still...even if there are all these rumors about him beating up people, Dante isn't invincible... Still, I move from the doorway, walking over to Caleb's kitchen. "Callie, the doggy's here." I announce, waving an arm in Dante's direction as he follows me after closing the door. He growls in response to my nickname for him, and I shoot him a leer. The rest of the snarl dies halfway in his throat.
"Oh!" Caleb says, though he probably already knew it was him. He turns from staring at the ovens window, a smile on his face when he finds Dante standing behind me. "Dante, do you--are you okay?!" The sudden shift of happiness to shock is a little alarming...but, Caleb does get really nervous around blood...
"I'm fine. Just a scratch. I would've cleaned up, but I didn't have time. I had a few other things to take care of." I can practically feel embarrassment radiating from him. Expecting to see him looking shy or blushing or just friggin' guilty, I lean back against the cabinets, searching his face eagerly, and am severely disappointed.
He hasn't even flinched under Caleb's worried gaze.
But Caleb knows Dante better than I do, and he pulls him by the uninjured hand over to the dining table, sitting him down and fretting over the blood staining his arm. "Let me get my first aid kit," He bites his lower lip, dashing into his room. Dante hasn't moved. I hop up on the counter, pulling my knees up under my chin, content to simply watch them both interact. Dante seems...different. Almost gentle. Docile, even.
After a minute of digging around in his room, Caleb returns, opening the little box as he slides into the chair across from Dante, his back towards me. Wordlessly, Dante complies with the small tugs on his sleeve, folding it to reveal the gash below his elbow. He keeps his eyes on Caleb's expression, and it's then that I spot the emotion in his face.
Dante isn't perturbed by the wounds he has. He's not reacting to the pain as Caleb wipes the blood away and then disinfects the wound. (He's probably had worse, I think, remembering the oddly shaped scar on his chest.) He's more concerned for Caleb, seated there, seeing the trickle of blood that runs from the tip of the wound down to Dante's wrist, where it's dried and faded off. He's studying him closely, breathing in calmly to encourage Caleb to stay relaxed.
But, damn, if I had an attractive idiot man staring at me while I patch him up, I think I'd be more nervous than before.
"It's not too deep," Caleb sighs, relieved. With a hesitant glance up as he sets aside bloodied pieces of damp cloth, he asks, "What happened? I mean, you don't have to explain, if you don't want to, but...I just..."
"I ran into some guys. It wasn't that bad of a fight. I'm fine, really." Dante shrugs nonchalantly, leaning forward to talk softly with Caleb, his voice now taking on a softer tone I'm hearing for the first time. I wouldn't have thought his vocal cords could muster up such a...warm reassurance.
From my perch on the counter, I smile, resting my chin on my arms.
This is definitely going to be the start of a great relationship. I can already tell.