Chapter Two: Laundry Lessons and Jealous Aliens
The first sign Axir was getting better was that he stopped glowering at the blanket like it had personally insulted his ancestors. The second was when he followed her into the laundry room without being asked.
The hum of the washing machine filled the small laundry nook, drowning out the winter wind rattling the window. Freya crouched beside the machine, pointing out the buttons like she was teaching a schoolchild, not a battle-hardened alien commander.
“This,” she said, tapping the faded dial, “is the temperature setting. You don’t put your wool in here unless you want it to fit a doll afterwards.”
Axir stood over her, arms folded, eyeing the appliance with suspicion. “It looks… ancient.”
“It works,” she shot back.
“Primitive engineering,” he muttered, though he crouched anyway to see what she was doing. “The cleaning units on my ship can process fabrics in less than thirty seconds.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, popping the detergent drawer open. “And I’m sure they cost a fortune and can probably double as a missile launcher. But here, we do things the slow, human way. Builds character.”
He made a sound halfway between a scoff and a reluctant hum, but didn’t argue.
When she set the cycle going, she glanced up to see him still watching, his gaze fixed and oddly intense for a lesson on laundry. “What?”
“I’m… observing your methods,” he said, straight-faced.
“Right. Because I’m basically a galactic laundry master.” She turned back to the machine so he wouldn’t see her grin.
⸻
Later, when they were in the living room, Freya set her mug of tea down and reached for the remote. She flicked through the channels until a familiar theme tune played.
“Put on the one with the brothers,” Axir said suddenly.
Her brows shot up. “Vampire Diaries?”
“Yes.” His tone was clipped, like this was an official request. “I want to know which one Elena chooses in the end.”
Freya stared at him for a beat before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god—you’ve been watching!”
“I fail to see the humor.”
“Big, scary alien commander getting invested in a teen vampire romance? That’s hilarious.”
He didn’t even flinch. “The Damon one displays tactical loyalty disguised as arrogance. It’s… compelling.”
Her laughter doubled, and she shook her head. “This is it. You’ve officially crossed into human territory.”
⸻
The next morning, she tossed him her largest hoodie and a baseball cap. “If you want to come to town with me, you’ll need to blend in. Less ‘I’m here to conquer Earth,’ more ‘I might be here to buy socks.’”
He pulled the hoodie over his broad frame, the fabric stretching dangerously, and fixed the cap on his head. “It feels… constricting.”
“It’s called fashion. Let’s go.”
⸻
Winter in Wrenbrook—a town so small it could fit in a corner of a city map—was all green hills, damp earth, and the smell of woodsmoke curling from chimneys. The main street looked like it had been plucked from a postcard: weathered shopfronts, a little bakery with steamed-up windows, and an old bookstore whose bell chimed every time the door opened.
Locals greeted Freya as they passed. “Morning, love,” an older woman called from across the street, then eyed Axir with open curiosity. “And who’s this tall drink of water? You should bring him into town more often!”
Freya laughed awkwardly. “He’s… visiting.”
Axir said nothing, but she could feel his stare drilling into the side of her head.
⸻
They were halfway to the grocer’s when a familiar voice called out, “Freya!”
Ian strolled toward them, all rugged farmer charm—broad shoulders, easy smile, the faint smell of hay clinging to his jacket. “Haven’t seen you in ages. How about a coffee sometime?”
“She prefers tea,” Axir said immediately.
Freya shot him a look. “I can speak for myself, thanks.” She turned back to Ian. “Coffee sounds great. Maybe lunch on Thursday?”
“Perfect,” Ian said, grinning. His gaze flicked to Axir. “And you are…?”
Axir opened his mouth, but Freya jumped in. “A childhood friend visiting from… far away.”
Ian extended a hand. Axir didn’t move.
The air tightened. Ian let his hand drop slowly, his smile stiffening before he turned back to Freya. “See you Thursday.”
Axir’s jaw ticked as they watched him go.
⸻
At the grocer’s, Axir trailed her down the aisles, the silence heavy. Finally, he said, “It’s not a good idea to see him.”
“It’s just lunch.”
“A ‘friendly’ lunch,” he said flatly.
“Yes,” she replied, tossing bread into the basket.
He scowled. “It doesn’t look friendly from where I was standing.”
Freya bit back a smile. “You’re sulking.”
“I don’t sulk.”
“You’re absolutely sulking.”
They bickered all the way to the checkout.
⸻
Back home, Freya unloaded the groceries while Axir sat at the table, still wearing his stormy expression. She ignored it, humming to herself as she put the kettle on.
⸻
Axir’s POV
Later, after she’d gone upstairs, Axir stayed in the kitchen, the low hum of the refrigerator filling the quiet. He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—the farmer’s casual interest in her, or her easy agreement to see him again.
He told himself it didn’t matter. His mission mattered. His people mattered. This detour into her quiet, green world was nothing but an inconvenient pause.
And yet…
He thought of the way she’d teased him over the washing machine. How she’d laughed—really laughed—when he admitted he wanted to know the outcome of the vampire romance. How she spoke to everyone in town like they mattered.
It was… disarming.
He leaned back in the chair, eyes drifting to the hallway where she’d disappeared moments ago. The air here was warmer than any ship cabin. The scent of her tea still lingered.
He should be planning, strategizing, preparing for what came next. But instead, he sat there, letting the strange comfort of her world seep in.
I could get used to this, he thought. And that was dangerous.