Grace Santana knew what she was getting into when she first laid eyes on the tattooed man they called El Diablo. Temptation's hard to resist and after all, who can say they fell in love with and married the Devil?
Rating: Mature/Teen (PG-13+)
Word Count: 4,527
Chapter Warnings: Violence, Blood, Gore and Death
Pairing: Grace/Chato Santana
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She first sees him when she's working full time in an old diner in East Los Angeles, an old jukebox faintly crooning the tales of loss and heartbreak, her dark brown eyes wandering over the beautiful ink on his caramel skin. She wonders what stories he has to tell and reminds herself that she's three weeks into her new job and she already has a crush on some guy she has just glanced at. Way to go, Grace.
A cute guy, she thinks, sitting all alone by himself . . .
The young man wears a blue letterman jacket over a white tank top. He wears the embodiment of Death on his face, a scythe on his forehead, tally marks etched over his left eyebrow. Nicola, her best friend, notices her curious lingering gaze and draws her attention.
"Be careful with that one. They say he's El Diablo," she warns.
Grace shoots her a look. "Why?"
Nicola glances over to the man, making sure he's not eavesdropping or looking their way. He's not, his thin tattooed fingers linking together, staring out the window, watching the fast-paced nightlife of East L.A. go by. She keeps her voice lowered though. "You didn't hear this from me, okay? They say he controls fire. Like real fire - out of nothing. They think he's cursed because bad things keep happening when he's around. My brother says he's always been like that since the day he was born. Everywhere he goes, something burns. Always."
"That's . . . kinda harsh, isn't it? I mean -" Grace begins.
"Sweetie, you haven't lived here long enough to see what he does," Nicola cuts in with a serious look. "Trust me." The jukebox plays its last note as it winds down, leaving the television speaking quietly through the speakers, announcing the story of the 49th Daytona 500 winner and the capture of the metahuman who tried to stop it. "Now, be a good chica and make some money, hermana. You have a customer to serve."
Nicola backs away, leaving Grace speechless. She sighs, tucking her blouse back into her jeans and takes a moment to collect herself and walks over to the man with her notepad and pen in hand. She puts on her brightest smile and asks, "Can I get you anything to eat?"
He turns his head at the sound of her voice, seemingly surprised that she's addressing him. Their eyes meet and she notices a hardness to them as he scans over her figure warily. Like she'sdangerous. She almost wants to laugh but her eyes betray her out of curiosity, darting down to the exposed tattoo on his hand: 213 and the word DIABLO screaming across his chin and fights the urge to swallow. She holds her posture and smile, praying for the uncomfortable silence to end and counts to ten, waiting for the time to announce the specials they are currently serving that day. God, she hates this job, but it pays money and she needs it desperately. She's about to open her mouth when he speaks for the first time. It's softer than she expects, somewhat rough around the edges, a hint of a Spanish accent pushing through.
"Water's fine."
She blinks. Her mouth parts in a little "o" and snaps back to reality, jotting down his request. "Anything else?"
YOU ARE READING
Closer to the Fire
FanfictionGrace Santana knew what she was getting into when she first laid eyes on the tattooed man they called El Diablo. Temptation's hard to resist and after all, who can say they fell in love with and married the Devil?
