They Are All Lemmings
"Fucking wolves."
The voice was so low Damien was sure that he wasn't supposed to hear it. But his wolf seemed to be standing at attention, taking in everything.
And… was he actually wagging his tail? And how did she know about wolves?
Damien shook his head, trying to get the picture of his practically feral wolf wagging his tale like a fucking dog out of his head as the waitress approached him.
It was the same woman who had served them last time, and she paused as she realized just who he was.
"Are we waiting for the other three?" she asked cocking her head to the side as if it was weird that he was sitting alone.
"Nope, just me," answered Damien. He tried to sniff the waitress discretely, but like before, she didn't smell like anything. Not even hand lotion or shampoo. For a human, that was strange. Normally they tried to smell like food all the time, but it all ended up smelling artificial.
"Did you want the same as last time?" she asked, her pen hovering over the pad of paper in her hand.
"Hey! Waitress!" yelled one of the other patrons.
Putting on a strained smile, the waitress excused herself.
"Can I help you?" she asked pleasantly, but Damien could hear her teeth grinding together in frustration.
That table he could smell.
"My girlfriend didn't order this," smirked the young wolf, and Damien could only shake his head.
"You are right, she didn't," responded the waitress. "You ordered it for her. If I could make a suggestion? Either know what your girlfriend would like to eat or let her order for herself. I am sure she is capable of speech since she talks to you."
Spinning around and mumbling under her breath, the waitress returned to Damien's table. "Sorry about that. Kids these days are worse than lemmings. One does something and thinks it's cool, and then the rest follow after. They don't even bother changing up the words," the waitress complained.
Damien's wolf didn't like the idea that pups from his pack were making this woman's life harder, and a growl reverberated in his chest.
Silence fell over the restaurant as the wolves looked around to see who had made that sound. Realizing that it was Damien, the pups looked down at their table and dug into the food, not willing to make eye contact.
Even the bunnies did the same.
And since when did wolves date prey?
"Kids these days? You look like you are the same age as them," chuckled Damien, looking the waitress up and down. Wasn't she supposed to have a name tag or something?
"Just because I am the same age as them doesn't mean that I'm not a lot older intellectually," smiled the girl, and Damien couldn't help but want to smile back.
'Mate,' whispered a voice in his head. 'Can't be sure without scent… but she is our mate.'
Damien sat up straight and looked at the tiny woman in front of him, really looked at her.
She was stunningly beautiful, with curly light brown hair tumbling down her shoulders, and her eyes were as green as the grass his wolf liked to run through. But he was easily double her size; she probably hated that.
'All that much better to protect her,' grumbled his wolf back. 'Need her scent.'
"Sorry about that," smiled Damien, forcing himself to relax. He couldn't scare her off. She looked human, and without a scent to let him know if she was a shifter or not, he had to err on the side of caution and assume that she was human. "I know their parents; I'll be sure to have a little talk with them."
The waitress nodded her head, her pen still poised over the notepad.
"I'm Damien," he continued like he was not the surely bastard he was.
"Adaline," replied the waitress.
"Right," muttered Damien. He remembered the name from the last time they were all there, but it hadn't really registered until now. "Nice to meet you."
Adaline lowered the notepad and smiled at him. "Nice to meet you, too. It will be even nicer when I don't have to deal with the same song and dance from the kids."
"I'll handle it," he promised, the smile on his face widening. It felt… good doing something that she asked him to do.
"Now, what do you want to eat? Two 32 oz steaks, rare?" she asked, the smile on her face looking a bit more natural.
"What's the best thing here?" replied Damien, not answering her question. He was a wolf; steak at a restaurant was always the default choice. But something told him that he was going to have to get used to eating here all the time if his wolf had anything to say about it.
"For me or you?" shot back Adaline, a smirk on her face. "Because my favorite thing is a peanut butter and banana crepe with bacon on the side. But I can't picture you eating something so sweet."
Damien would admit that it didn't sound like the best thing he had ever eaten. Wolves and peanut butter didn't normally mix well. But if that was what his… potential mate… liked, then he wanted to try it.
At least there was bacon.
"I'll try that."
He was so attuned to every part of her that the fact she knew about wolves flew out of his mind.
----
Just what was that wolf doing?
I couldn't think of a reason why he would be here, let alone wanting to eat a peanut butter and banana crepe. He was here with the Alpha of the Silverblood pack before. That made him high up in the hierarchy.
High enough that money would not be a problem.
So why was he eating here?
'Smells good,' came a squeak inside of my head. 'I want to climb in his pocket and nap.'
Well, if that wasn't an endorsement, I didn't know what was. My mouse hated people more than I did.
Okay, so hate was the wrong word. She was terrified of everything that moved, so for her to want to spend time in his pocket was something completely new.
'Think he would have a small blanket inside of it?' I could see what she was picturing: a small fuzzy blanket the size of a handkerchief inside of the pocket of Damien's coat.
'I somehow doubt it,' I chuckled as I blankly stared at the computer screen in front of me.
'Oh,' she replied, clearly not happy with that answer. I could feel her shrinking in herself as the thought of spending nap time in his pocket disappeared.
'I am sure we could bring one,' I sighed, not wanting to pop her bubble. I was pretty sure that there was no way the wolf would be willing to carry around a mouse inside of his pocket, but stranger things have happened.
Like wolves and bunnies dating.