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“(Y/N), can you come here for a moment?”
His call didn’t sound urgent or upset, which was a good sign. This afternoon had been quite uneventful, but that wasn’t such a bad thing every once in a while. Between the excitement of the hotel and the various other activities Alastor was involved with on an almost daily basis--and that you’d been drug into more frequently after making his acquaintance--the occasional break was much appreciated. Abandoning the task you’d been working on, you made your way in the direction of the artificially distorted voice that’d beckoned you.
Wandering the halls of Alastor’s grand, private estate never got old. So many rooms and halls, serving almost every kind of function you could think of; it was a wonder he ever needed to leave. You were sure that anything he didn’t have here, his shadows or other demons he commanded or threatened would be happy to retrieve for him. But he was too antsy to sit around and wait for someone else to do his bidding. That didn’t even take into account his vanity, his preoccupation with his own standard of preciseness. He was no stranger to the idea that if you wanted something done right, it was best to just do it yourself. To a certain extent, you admired that unyielding conviction of his. But you also knew just how dangerous it could be.
It was common knowledge that many demons--specifically those that had been human once--strove to conduct their lives in a fashion similar to how they’d lived before. Other creatures native to the nine circles either found these mortal routines to be naively trite or just plain boring, but that was understandable. Only a human can really understand another human, after all, and even then there are numerous boundaries that prevent individuals from finding common ground. You presumed that also contributed to the list of reasons Alastor insisted on taking care of most of his business himself, and the idea that he was emulating his human life, knowingly or not, made your chest ache.
No sense in dwelling on such unproductive thoughts, as he would say! Pushing the unpleasant side note from your mind, you opened the door to the room Alastor was currently occupying. It was nice that he hadn’t just teleported you against your will or without prior warning for once, as he’d gotten in a bad habit of doing. It may have been convenient, but it also usually made you sick, and you’d asked him more than once to at least tone down the frequency for your sake. Today, when things were slow and he was absorbed in his work, he was kind enough to call and wait for you to arrive of your own accord. What you found when you finally did arrive, though, was one of the last things you expected to see.
“I’m here, what did you need?”
Alastor had his back turned to you, just as engrossed in whatever he was messing with as you’d predicted. Engrossed enough that he obviously didn’t realize just how vulnerable he’d left himself. Your eyes quickly zeroed in on a particular feature of his that you’d never glimpsed before. Perhaps you weren’t meant to.
It wasn’t common to see him out of his suit, the signature ensemble that you were almost convinced was just another permanent part of him. He was still wearing it, of course, but the pinstripe coat that was known for pulling the outfit together was laid over a chair off to the side. That was fine, and wouldn’t have meant anything to you, if only you hadn’t noticed the distinct attribute that said coat usually concealed. It would probably be rude to say something…surely it would be better to just keep it to yourself, continue the conversation without making a comment that might draw attention to his little oversight.
But, also, you kind of wanted to ask him about it.
And touch it, naturally, but that was a boundary you were sure you were still far from being friendly enough to cross without getting your hand ripped off.
“Can you help me with…”
He was speaking clearly, articulately, outlining what he needed from you as plainly and concisely as he always did. His delivery didn’t really stand out to you, though, considering the entirety of his speech was drifting in one ear and out the other, completely bypassing any process of comprehension your brain may have been willing to provide. All you could seem to focus on was the little twitches the fluffy appendage on his lower back performed, probably reacting to his emphasis or a particular surge of emotion as he spoke. Or perhaps it just did that, flicking every now and then on its own without having to be consciously controlled.
“(Y/N)? (Y/N), are you even listening to me?”
Maybe you should have been making some periodic, noncommittal noises in response. He wouldn’t have a reason to be suspicious if you at least tried to seem like you’d been listening, despite nothing being further from the truth. “Uh, yeah, I am. Sorry, I just--”
“Is there something on my back?”
Well, that wasn’t really the direction you’d been hoping this whole situation would take. It was fine if you were aware of the blunder he’d failed to account for, but there was no telling how he would react once it came to his attention. It was no secret that Alastor was already sensitive about particular aspects of his appearance--the nonhuman ones, to be exact. The blade sharp teeth and blood red eyes were tolerable, and he didn’t have to worry as much about the impression his less than intimidating traits conveyed; the threat that any part of his presentation would make him seem like fair game to mock or underestimate. No, he was an all powerful, fear inducing demon overlord that anyone would have been unwise to cross. But, unfortunately, even that fact couldn’t entirely erase the disdain he felt towards his fluffier, more innocent looking characteristics.
His two-toned tail twitched again as he glanced over his shoulder, and he froze as the mortifying realization struck him. You were glued to the spot as well, knuckles white around the doorknob as you tried to decide whether to stay or flee. You’d probably end up regretting the latter option, because you certainly couldn’t escape him forever, and it was just as likely that he wouldn’t be interested in letting you get very far in the first place. Forcing your fingers to release the object they’d been clutching for dear life, you properly stepped into the room, trying to come up with any way to fix this before it got out of hand.
“Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…and I know, I know it would probably upset you to hear--” Then you shouldn’t say it, what were you doing, if you knew the kind of retribution it could incite? Why did you feel so compelled to press on, as if uttering the words that piled up on your tongue was the only logical course of action? “--but…I think it looks cute.”
His fist struck the table in front of him, making everything scattered across its surface shake, some items even tipping over. You jumped out of reflex; maybe if you started running now, you’d be able to put enough distance between you both to give you some sort of a fighting chance? But aside from that single reactionary outburst, nothing drastic followed. Alastor simply took a deep breath, ran a hand through his slightly fluffed up hair, over his stock straight ears--rigid with annoyance. His exhale was long and low, and you didn’t miss the pops of irritated static that echoed in his throat, hissing through his teeth with his exaggerated breath.
“Well, it’s not like I can pretend it’s not there, hm? Not anymore, anyway.”
“I mean, look.” Bargaining felt like your only option, but you didn’t even know exactly what it was you were bargaining for. “It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone about it, or bring it up again. I’m sorry, I just…”
“I know, it’s quite distracting, isn’t it?” he lamented with a shrug, dragging a hand down his face. He turned around to face you as he readjusted his monocle. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to even realize it was there when I first found myself in this form. All I could make out was gray skin and clawed hands; it hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d died. The pain in my head was still lingering, and my immediate memories were fuzzy. I started looking around for the culprit, the brave soul that’d dared to cross me--to shoot at me. I knew there’d been a gunshot, and some other commotion that my mind was desperately trying to recall through the pain and fog. In the end, though, I think it may have been nothing more than an unfortunate accident. The gunshot, that is.”
You hadn’t really expected him to start monologuing like this, but as long as he wasn’t enraged, you figured it couldn’t hurt to listen to what he had to say.
“Ah, but that’s all in the past, yes?” he corrected himself, joining his hands with a resounding clap. “And it seems that whoever shot me that day really did hit their target. Whether they knew it or not, I woke up like this, cursed with the loathsome traits of the creature they’d so foolishly mistaken me for. A spitefully ironic twist of fate. I try not to let it bother me, especially when some parts of this appearance have worked so well in my favor. But then…there are instances like this…”
“You don’t have to hate it!” you blurted, moving towards him. “Not in front of me! I mean, it’s alright if you still do. I understand. But I don’t care what you look like, or what weird features you have. It doesn’t change who you are. And, to be honest…I meant it when I said it was cute. I know that upsets you, that you don’t really want to be seen that way, but--”
“If you’re the one saying so, I suppose I can accept it,” he conceded, stepping forward to meet you and pull you into his embrace. He bent down, resting his cheek against your head with another staticky sigh. “I’d much rather have you endeared to me than fearful of me. Despite the things I find less than serviceable about this appearance, I can be grateful for them, even if it’s only an infinitesimal amount.”
“I think everything about you is charming,” you murmured into his chest, and his arms clenched around you. “I know it sounds cliche, and probably like I’m just saying it to make you feel better. But if you really knew me, you’d also know that I’m telling the truth.”
“Lying wouldn’t benefit you in a situation like this,” he remarked, caressing your head with his claws. “But if you were lying for my sake, I’d appreciate it. And I’d remind you that it’s not necessary, I just overreacted. I apologize for startling you.”
“I should say the same, since I kind of startled you, too,” you added, craning your neck up to face him. He lifted his head and adjusted himself to meet your gaze, that wide, intimidating smile of his displayed just as prominently as ever. “And I’m sorry for getting so distracted. I promise I can pay attention, I just wasn’t really expecting--”
“I know, I know,” he reassured, patting your head. “We were both surprised. Now that it’s all settled, would you mind helping me with what I originally summoned you for?”
You nodded enthusiastically, taking your place at his side as Alastor patiently repeated his explanation. You’d keep this little secret of his for the rest of eternity, if you had to. If it made him happy. And whether he was fully aware of your loyalty or not, he appreciated the respect you showed regarding the sensitive nature of his little secret. More than that, he could still feel the traces of a sensation he hadn’t experienced in ages warming his cheeks and scorching his veins. You were the cause, of that much he was certain, but as for what he was supposed to do with these feelings…he was utterly at a loss. He hoped if nothing else that you’d stick around long enough for him to figure it out.