Catherine

"For the last time, bonbon. You put the big plates on the left and the little plates on the right." I groaned as Damon carefully demonstrated how to stack the dishes on the sink. What's the point if you're going to wash them and then stack them properly afterwards? It's just extra effort.

"Alright alright. I get it already." I bumped the side of my hip with his to make him move away from the sink. Who knew reapers were neat freaks? Or maybe that's just Damon.

"You should take off all the remaining scraps on the plates, and put them on a plastic bag." Turning to him, I saw him looking down at me.

"Damon?" I asked sweetly.

"Yes, bonbon?" He smiled and leaned towards me. I elbowed his stomach and he took a step back.

"I know how to do the dishes. Our housekeeper taught me when I was seven." I started doing what he instructed and showed him the plastic bag afterwards. Just to shut him up.

"That's quite a young age to learn washing the dishes. Aren't you supposed to be playing with barbies?" I frowned as I heard the scratching sound made by a chair being pulled.

He's strong enough to kick my door open but too lazy to lift a chair.

"Well I'm not a fan of Barbie." I waited for him to say some kind of remark, anything just to tease me and my lack of interest on a plastic figure little girls my age went coo-coo about, but he said nothing. Relieved, I continued doing the dishes with him occasionally telling me that I was doing it wrong. After drying my hands, I turned to see him gone. Since I got nothing else better to do, I decided to clean the counter.

I miss home. Our old housekeeper retired five years ago and please don't imagine a nineteen year-old crying her eyes out. I only shed a couple of tears. Four days before her actual departure.

I still write to her. Yes. Write. With a piece of paper or two and a pen. Nana Cecille doesn't like mobile phones. Or the internet. She pretty much prefers it when somebody takes the time to just sit down and write what's been going on with their lives. She didn't retire because she was old. (She'll be mad at you if you call her old) She met this nice man when she was on her day-off and they kind of kicked it off. I guess love comes when love comes. Nana Cecille had two children with her first husband and Robert (nana's boyfriend) was okay with it. Nana's children were kind enough to talk to me. I was nine when I first met Keizer. He was eleven and was Nana's eldest. He approached me after a couple of meanies tried shoving my face on the blackboard, repeating 'Can you see this four-eyes?' They eventually got bored when I didn't cooperate. And by cooperate, I meant answering their question or begging them to stop.

The chalk was itchy and the chalk dust made me cough too much that my eyes watered. He gave me his handkerchief and a bottle of water before walking me home. My family wasn't much of a big deal back then than it is now, thanks to my father's drive to be , quote, the best. I made him promise not to tell anyone and for fifteen years, he had kept his promise. And no. I did not have some silly crush on him. I told you remember? Friends were for Audrey. And they were friends. More than friends if you asked me. Nobody's immune, I'm telling you. But he was still nice enough to ask me to tag along when they went out to watch movies. I always said no not because Audrey kept glaring at me, but because I wasn't that into going out. Hah. You never expected that didn't you?

I was never the one to go and 'hang out'. I didn't like talking much. Or noises. Or people constantly badgering me. Which I am experiencing now by living with a reaper. That sentence still gets me. A reaper.

I glanced down at the cabinets just below the dish rack. It's where I put the containers that I forgot to return whenever people from the building brought me food. I wasn't able to attend their birthdays, or anniversaries or house warming parties. It was then that I realized I was the youngest among all the residents of Ellie's building. But I was okay with it. Well now there's two of us.

Taking the soapy sponge with me,I knelt down to open the cabinets. I looked down as a cockroach scurried down from one of the containers. I quietly reached for my slipper. It must've had awesome ninja senses because as I raised my hand, it's wings started showing and before I know it, the little beast was coming to get me. Screaming, I quickly got up as I felt it crawling inside my shirt. Oh glob, was there another cockroach attacking me. I can feel his tiny, hairy legs down my back and I quickly took my shirt off.

My throat hurts but I kept screaming as I tried swatting my slipper on where the cockroach was heading. I heard a door slamming and in came Damon, wet from a shower, a towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist. He still had shampoo on his hair and bubble suds on his arms. It always seemed like I can't admire his muscles long enough because I'm always on a far more distressing situation.

His eyes widened momentarily as he took in the sight of me messing my hair, slipper still in hand, and oh I don't know...he just found me running around like a maniac without a shirt on.

I shivered as I felt something crawling on my inner thigh.

Decide Catherine. Take it off or let it reach your crotch. No freaking time.

Fumbling with the buttons of my shorts, I screeched as I felt it moving higher. Well if it was panicking, I was hyperventilating. Stupid ninja cockroaches.

As I was about to pull down my zipper, two big hands covered mine, stopping me.

I looked up at him, nostrils flaring as I felt it inching higher.

"Don't take it off. I beg of you." what? Is he frick fracking blind? There's a cockroach inside my shorts and he wants me to keep them on?

"Damo-hooohmygahd. Get your hands off me!" I leaned forward and bit his shoulder, making him stagger. With him holding my hands, there was no avoiding my body going with him.

If God wanted to kill me, He should've just got me hit by a truck. Or while I'm asleep.

I first felt the softness of the sponge as I stepped on it. The cockroach finally crawling down my leg and hiding someplace else on the cabinet it came from.

then the cotton-ny texture of Damon's towel

then the cold, hard surface of the kitchen floor. With the same cotton material falling on my head.

I stilled. The pain on my head dulling instantly as I realized what just happened.

"Are you alright, bonbon?" I felt him bending his knees.

"Do NOT touch me." he paused.

"S-should I call for help?"

"Put some clothes on!" I covered my eyes with the towel but remembering where it's been, I quickly threw it away. But remembering that he was naked, I grabbed it again and placed it on top of my head.

***

Then there were knocking sounds. My mind automatically thought of this as some crazy idea for a show.

All right fellas who would come and open the door? Damon Grace who's as well-dressed as the day he was born? Oooor Catherine Wright who might have just cracked her skull?

It was too late when the door opened and in came a woman in her mid-forties, her features so similar to mine when she was my age, a grocery bag on each hand.

"Catherine dear! I told you so many times to lock your do-"

She stopped talking. I quickly got up from where I fell, ignoring the dizziness from my sudden movement. We were behind the counter in the middle of the kitchen so our lower bodies weren't exposed.

She was standing there, fruits rolling as the grocery bags slipped from her grasps.

Why was she glaring at Damon. I turned and found out why.

"Damon!" I threw him the towel and he quickly covered himself up.

"Catherine!" I turned to see the woman looking at both of us, incredulity shown all over her face.

"Mother!"

***
Damon went back to the kitchen, fully-clothed now, to get us something to drink.

"Mother..." she held a hand up to stop me from talking.

"You are no daughter of mine."

I groaned as I placed the bag of frozen peas on the bump on my head. "It's not what it looked like."

She eyed me and started waving her hands around, a sign that I'm in deep trouble. "It's not what-CATHERINE WRIGHT! You were on your knees. He was naked and you were- you were. Oh Lord what am I going to tell your father. I told him this wasn't a good idea. I told him. But he was too stubborn. And you! you convinced us that that..." I quickly sat down beside her and tried to calm her down. "Mom, I wasn't on my knees. I slipped." I know that that kind of explanation wouldn't suffice so I tried to tell her what happened.

She was silent when I finished.

"Mom..?"

"So you weren't...you two weren't..."

Damon walked out of the kitchen holding two glasses of pineapple juice. He sat awkwardly on the couch in front of ours and looked at his hands.

"You young man." we both looked at her as she spoke."How long have you been living with my daughter?"

He cleared his throat."I moved in weeks ago Mrs. Wright."

"Did you impregnate her?"

Damon's ears turned as red as I mine. Why mother. Why must you humiliate me this way.

"No ma'am."

Mom looked at me as if to confirm if Damon wasn't lying.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions mom. And I've been living on my own for years."

I held her hands once more. Silently begging her to stop making things more awkward. She sighed.

"Well have you eaten?"

Relieved, I smiled at the man silently watching our exchange. "Yes mom. Damon cooks." I saw a glint of something in her eyes as she looked at Damon with renewed interest.

"You can cook?"

Damon hesitated for a minute before nodding. "Took classes at your restaurant when I was eighteen." I frowned. He never told me he took classes on my mom's restaurant. It wasn't that well-known and mom just wanted to share what she knew to people who were willing to learn. Apparently, Damon was willing enough to be taught by Gordon Ramsey's calmer version.

"Oh I remember you! You were so chubby back then." I snickered as my mom talked to him rather sweetly this time. One time, she was accusing him, now she's cooing at him. "You didn't get to finish the class didn't you?"

I turned to see Damon looking at me. "I had to work and study. It was difficult to attend your classes." My mom nodded, she knew what it felt like working and studying at the same time. She was in that same situation before she met my dad.

"Well why don't you show me what you made?" She got up rather enthusiastically and walked inside the kitchen.

"So...you took lessons from my mom huh." I transferred the bag of peas on my other hand. He may have thought I was mocking him because he glared at me.

"The guys didn't know how to cook. I'm not eating just-add-water crap from grocery stores."

I raised my hands. "Calm down. I think it's great when a guy knows how to cook."

He smiled and let out what seems like a sigh of relief and offered me his hand. I'm betting that if it weren't for my mom being in here, he would've wrapped me in bandages instead of giving me a bag of frozen peas just to make sure I don't hurt myself any further.

***

I felt invisible. They've been talking for hours now. And I just sat here picking at the dessert they made.

"Thank God you're with her. She's too lazy to cook for her-''

"Mom," I intervined. How could she?

"Oh alright. Your father's going to be home any time soon and I have to go cook. You know dear, you should really start learning how to cook. Just to prepare for the future. But then again, Damon's here..."

He smiled as I finished up and placed my little plate on the left side of the sink. Damon coughed and he raised his eyebrow as he looked at my plate. Groaning, I showed him the plate and carefully placed on the right side. Mom saw all of this and pretended to find something inside her bag to hide her smile.

"Well! I'm going! Be a sweetheart and walk me to the door will you Cat?" She grabbed my hand and walked out of the apartment, her slamming the door shut.

"I approve. I'm willing to not tell your father. You have to do it yourself. You're a sane, logical, smart young woman and I trust your judgement. You hear me? I trust you." she said this so seriously, it freaked me out.

Damon used magic. I knew it. There's no other way to explain my mother's really really quick change of heart.

"But I have one condition. I'm giving you a month..."

"A month to what?" this is bad...

***
Damon

She walked in the kitchen wiping her cheek. I saw a smudge of lipstick, knowing that her mom just bid her goodbye.

I'm still not sure if she was okay physically. She fell pretty bad.

"Bonbon?" I pushed a glass towards her as she sat down.

"I have a suggestion." I looked up to see her playing with the rim of her glass.

"Yes?" Her eyes met mine and I saw how uncertain she is.

"How about. You can always say no. I'll be totally cool with it."

"Bonbon."

"Yeah?"she looked so scared.

"Spit it out."

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a trip with me to visit a house-well not just any house. The house I grew up in. A couple of weeks from now. That is if you want to keep living here. Either I go or you go." she blurted out.

I couldn't blame her mom for setting conditions. And maybe it was a great opportunity for Catherine to have a clue on what his ideal guy should be acting around her relatives. Just to make her see how a guy should treat her.

"Well..?"

I grinned as she got up to get another bag of frozen peas. We seem to have a lot of them.

"Okay."

She turned my way far too quickly and bumped her head at the door of the fridge. I jumped out of my chair and hurriedly pulled her away from the offending piece of furniture.

She was rubbing her head and I held her hands to make her stop.

"Are you sure?"

I chuckled as I absent mindedly placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm sure."