38. Delilah
Chapter thirty-eight
Watching someone else cook is something I’ll never get used to, I fear.
Especially not when I’m right here and perfectly capable.
Yes, I’m still a little rattled from my nightmare and the interaction with Bones after, but being forced to sit on the couch and watch Cross cook is a different form of torture.
Not that he isn’t doing a good job or anything.
But it’s always been my task, part of my role as an omega.
“You gonna make it, baby doll?” Phantom asks from beside me, a chuckle in his deep, accented voice.
I jump slightly, whipping my head around to face him with wide eyes. He’s smirking at me, those clear blue eyes twinkling with mischief. My cheeks heat as I look down into my lap, my hair falling forward.
“I promise Cross can handle it. Who do you think cooked for us before you came here?” he says, reaching up and tucking my hair behind my ear.
I smile and chuckle once at his joke, leaning into his touch for a moment before catching myself.
If Phantom notices, then he doesn’t say anything, but he keeps his fingers in contact with my skin, settling to draw nonsense patterns on my shoulder.
I look back to watch Cross, breathing a little easier somehow.
It’s not long before dinner’s ready, and Phantom pulls me to my feet from the couch, holding my hand as we cross to the table.
I suck in a sharp breath as he pulls me into his lap, settling me across his knee as he waits for Cross to bring the plates of food to the table.
One by one, the rest of the team joins us, Bones from his room, Siren from outside in the barn, and Joker from his room, chest bare and still toweling off his ginger hair.
“What’re we eating tonight?” Joker asks brightly as he throws himself down into his chair beside me and Phantom.
No one comments about my placement, though I do notice Bones’s stare lingering for a moment longer than it has in the past. I turn my attention to the plate Cross sets in front of me, swallowing hard as I realize how much food there is on it. Almost as much as what’s on the other’s plates.
“Chicken parm. Easy, but delicious,” Cross says, sitting at his place across from Joker with his own plate in hand.
Everyone starts eating, and I pick up my fork with a shaky hand.
I eat slowly, my head ringing with alarm bells, the anxiety filling my stomach too much to allow me to take normal bites.
I can’t eat all this. It’s too much. And it’s all carbs with barely any protein, and not a real vegetable in sight.
“Hey, baby doll. Take a breath for me, okay?” Phantom purrs in my ear, so low that the others don’t hear it and continue their conversation.
I match his slow inhale and exhale, eyes sliding closed for a moment as I breathe in his soothing scent.
“You’re doing so good. Let’s eat five more good bites and see how we feel, okay?” Phantom says in that same gentle, soothing tone.
I nod ever so slightly, following his lead.
Thankfully, he doesn’t load up his fork like he has been up to this point, the little gesture making me blush.
He eats at my pace, until we’ve taken five bites.
The whole time, his free hand is on my thigh, his thumb brushing gently back and forth, a low purr rumbling from his chest.
“That’s a good girl. How’re ya doin’? Can you do three more for me?” Phantom asks.
I glance around and freeze as I accidentally meet Bones’s stare.
There’s a heat to it that I can’t decipher, but it makes my spine curl inward.
I feel so small around him, even when he held me after my nightmare.
His commanding presence, his intense amber eyes.
Even now, when he’s only got his mask lifted high enough to eat, there’s something so distant about him.
Like a star that burns bright in the night sky, unreachable, unattainable no matter how much you stretch toward it.
“I…I can try,” I whisper back to Phantom, wrenching my eyes away from Bones and back down to my plate.
There’s still so much food left, over half the chicken cutlet and most of the spaghetti.
But despite how full I feel, I force down three more bites.
My eyes burn, anxiety buzzing in my brain.
If I don’t finish this, I’m going to be in trouble.
I can’t waste food. But if I eat all of this, then I’m not going to be able to fit into any of the clothes they just bought for me.
“That’s enough.”
I look up at the sound of Siren’s voice, tears in my eyes. Here it comes. The anger, the disappointment, the rage. I’ve messed up again, I know it.
“Are you full?” Siren asks, no inflection in their words.
“I’ll finish it. I can do it, I promise. I—”
“That’s not what I asked, cupcake,” Siren says, cutting across me.
I flinch back and hug my stomach even as Phantom sets his fork down and holds me close to his chest. I nod, trembling.
“Then you’re done. Joker, you still hungry?” Siren says, first to me, and then to the other omega.
“Always,” Joker says with a laugh.
I look up and realize that in the time it took me to take a dozen bites of food, Joker has almost licked all traces of food and sauce from his plate. He eagerly pulls my food toward him and digs in, no questions asked.
“I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have put so much on your plate,” Cross interjects.
I look at him dumbfounded, unable to fully process what’s happening. They’re not mad?
“While you’re working on getting weight back on you, I’m only ever going to ask you to eat just beyond the point of feeling full.
It would be extremely unhealthy to force you to eat big meals, as you’re more likely to throw it back up before you get the nutrients you need.
You did incredibly well, Delilah. I’m proud of you for pushing through. ”
I have to look down from Cross’s jade-green gaze, blinking away tears.
I can’t remember the last time someone gave me genuine praise, and it’s sending my instincts into a tizzy.
I want to do more, even if I know it’ll make me sick.
Anything to get more kind words in his soft-spoken, warm voice.
But I stay still, sitting with the pleasant little flips in my stomach while the others finish their portions.
Without thinking, I start to get up when everyone sets down their forks, ready to start the dishes. But Phantom growls playfully, pulling me back down and nuzzling my neck.
“Where d’ya think you’re going, little miss?” he says with a chuckle.
“We’ve got dishes tonight,” Joker says with a wink, piling his first plate on top of mine and Phantom’s before heading toward the kitchen with Siren.
“I can do it. I’m okay,” I protest, though my words lack the strength I would have preferred.
“We know. But I’m getting bored. Need to do some housework before I start chewing on the furniture,” Joker laughs.
I can’t help but chuckle along with the rest, relaxing more into Phantom’s hold.
“Okay, I know all of you were there, but I have to tell this story. So, there was this one time that we were on a stakeout, and I was bored out of my mind. Like, if you thought that fucking facility was boring, it had nothing on this stupid mission,” Joker starts, words flying out so fast that I can barely understand them through his accent.
“It was not a stupid mission. We had to study the habits of our target so we could make sure the takedown happened—”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Joker says, waving a hand at Bones to shush him. “But the important thing is that I was bored as fuck, and with nothing but my thoughts, trapped inside the van with all these pricks for literal days.”
Bones chuckles and rolls his eyes, meeting my gaze on accident again as I watch him.
And I can’t look away even as Joker rattles off all the things he did to entertain himself at the expense of the team’s sanity.
Bones replaced his mask, but there’s a distinct crease at the edges of his eyes, the only hint of an exasperated smile visible.
And his eyes aren’t blazing anymore, and he’s not looking at me like something he’s stepped in.
“And that’s when we decided that I have to stop drinking protein shakes before long stakeout missions,” Joker finishes with a cackle.
I turn back to look toward the kitchen, cheeks a little warmer than they were a few moments ago. Phantom leans forward and places his chin on my shoulder, chuckling slightly before taking a deep breath.
“You’re lucky we didn’t report you to the Hague for engaging in chemical warfare,” Cross says, the smirk on his face betraying the stern words.
“The Geneva Conventions are more like Geneva Suggestions at the end of the day. Ask Canada,” Joker replies in mock seriousness.
We all share a laugh, and I notice for the first time how light my chest feels, even though my belly feels full.
There’s no anxiety twisting my guts into knots, but just a pleasant warmth and weight to my body.
The team meanders off, discussing the history of war crimes, but there’s no tension in the air.
Even when we move to the couch from the dinner table, no one is looking at me like I’m some sort of intruder.
To most, being tolerated wouldn’t feel like a victory, I think. But right now, after the time I’ve had, not being sneered at and expected to be neither seen nor heard, being allowed to sit in silence with them is the best feeling in the entire world.