Work Text:
𝕆𝕟 𝔸𝕚𝕣
That sign was beginning to become the bane of her existence.
Clover had an almost never-ending amount of patience for Alastor, that was a fact that no one could debate. She was what some people, specifically Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb, would call a “ride or die” kind of girl where love was concerned. But, she was still a particular woman with particular means, and this time of year was turning out to be specifically hard for her. Today marked the first anniversary of her fall into Hell and, of course, she hadn’t entirely thought through the dramatics of her demise before taking that literal leap.
The quiet vibration of her cell phone in her pocket earlier in the morning had been an abrupt reminder of how poorly she’d chosen her date of death, as sweet as the messages on the screen were.
“𝚑𝚙𝚢 𝚟-𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚜, 𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚖𝚛𝚠 𝚠/ 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜???? <𝟹 <𝟹 <𝟹 ”
“𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚛 𝙸’𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝙱𝚒𝚐 𝚁𝚎𝚍 😜 𝙻𝚘𝚝𝚜𝚊 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚗 𝙻𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚄𝚜! 𝙻𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎 ❣️ ”
Angel Dust had gotten a half-hearted “thank you” and an agreement, while Lollie’s message had room for a delayed response, so it was left at that. Clover had been excused from work that morning, Cyrus grumbling some explanation that she deserved the day off and it was “special” so she didn’t need to try and argue with her. She’d gone into the café anyway, taking advantage of the fact that the walk from Alastor’s was far shorter than from the hotel, to treat herself to a morning coffee and pick up some pastries for breakfast the next day. Cyrus had avoided giving his usual critical observation of her extra-sweet iced beverage choice for the day but hissed a sigh when she’d shoved the amount she’d planned to pay into the tip jar after he’d refused to charge her. The paper bag of pastries was tossed into the tote bag she’d chosen as her bag for the week, the cold coffee dripping condensation under Hell’s sun as she traced her first footsteps into hell in search of a proper grocery store to plan tonight’s meal.
As much as she adored those who lived in the Cannibal Colony, she couldn’t bring herself to indulge in the local cuisine. So, outsourcing was needed.
By the time she’d gotten back to the Radio Tower, she’d thought herself into a state of melancholy that not even Alastor’s cheerful smile through the tinted glass of his studio could cure alone. Clover paused below that glaring red sign that flickered above the thick, reinforced door into his private workspace to give him a small wave, feeling the cold pit in her stomach melt slightly as warm crimson looked up from his microphone and Alastor’s trademark smile grew more sincere. He’d been leaning back in his chair, his feet kicked up onto his desk and long legs stretching out to their limits as he chattered away into his microphone, but he straightened upon seeing her. Clover couldn’t help but snort at the abrupt change, hearing his chair squeak through the glass as he moved back into a proper seating position. She left him to his work with a fond shake of her head, listening idly to his report as it echoed through the kitchen radio as she unpacked her shopping. When it became apparent that Alastor’s broadcast had only just begun, Clover’s mind began to wander again without the distraction he so often provided.
The first of any holiday spent together as a new relationship was sure to have its complications, especially when coupled with someone such as the Radio Demon. She never really knew how he would approach a new special occasion; It was always a gamble on whether he’d see it as frivolous nonsense or as a reason to turn up the theatrics to a new height, turning it into a competition to out-do anyone who happened to be in the vicinity. The fact that they’d not talked about Valentine’s Day at all wasn’t all that odd to her, the looming societal expectations of the high-profile couple they’d become would surely deter Alastor from openly expressing interest without her first bringing up the subject, and Clover had been struggling on how to approach the topic herself. Add that on top of the rush of memories of her life left behind, and Clover was more than stuck in a constant state of confusion; She was lost.
She’d sought out the help of Rosie, who proved to be the most discreet of all of their mutual acquaintances, for help in finding Alastor a gift. It was the least she could do after dropping the ball so fantastically on Christmas. They’d wandered the Colony together for hours, sifting through antique stores and peeking into pawn shops for something that would suit Alastor's specific tastes. Clover was confident in her abilities to find something more special than the average drug-store gift baskets, and Rosie provided both a sense of safety and a willing ear to listen to Clover’s concerns about the upcoming holiday. Their combined forces found success in the back corner of a dusty curiosity shop, Clover uncovering a worn wooden box whose contents proved to be the perfect gift; Not too extravagant, small enough that he wouldn’t cause a fuss, and aligned with Alastor’s aesthetics too well to simply call coincidence.
Rosie had insisted on helping to wrap the gift, and Clover only resisted enough to maintain politeness before allowing her to take over. The sweetly-wrapped box had been hidden in her bedside drawer, where she knew Alastor would never dare to pry, and had remained there waiting to be revealed on this fateful day. Now that the moment had arrived, Clover’s pleased excitement for his reaction had faded into a mess of nerves that churned her stomach as she entered the bedroom. The hoodie she’d shrugged over her sleepshirt to venture into the outside world was tossed back into the open door of the closet to be properly put away at a later time, and her jeans were given the same treatment as Clover slid back into her pajamas. Passing the time with a good book in bed seemed to be the best option to soothe the anxious shaking of her fingertips, anything else was sure to only draw attention to how slowly the minutes went by. The radio at her bedside hummed its warm purr as it turned on, her fingers twisting the dials until Alastor’s voice came through clearly and turning down the volume until it became nothing but a soft backdrop to her reading. The spine cracked as she opened her newest novel, Clover curling into the comfort of feather pillows and soft sheets to lose herself in the far away of fantasy for an hour or two.
The next thing she knew, her eyes opened into the darkness of the bedroom. Clover sighed, returning her glasses to their proper place and rubbing her fingers across the places they’d dug into her skin. She’d never been one for napping, sleep was usually something she had to fight tooth and nail for but ever since she’d started spending time with Alastor, Clover found herself able to rest easier while in his presence. It embarrassed her when he caught her in the act, but unsurprising that even her most basic bodily functions fell victim to his charm.
Even more so as her mind wandered to all that had happened between them in this very room.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Clover sought out the dangling switch of her bedside lamp. She’d slept through the end of Alastor’s broadcast if the soft static that filled the room was any indication, and the lack of light in the room led her to assume that he’d left her to rest after figuring out where exactly she’d run off to. The smell of something sweet surrounded her as she pushed herself upright, overwhelming the normal scent of soft spice and musk that filled Alastor’s home. Clover’s brow furrowed, and her search illumination continued with new interest. Her fingers brushed something soft on her bedside table briefly, and she didn’t dare move further into the unknown out of fear that she’d send something shattering against the floor or that whatever she found in the shadows would find her as well. Clover finally found the light switch and closed her eyes against the bulb's sharp flash as she pulled the silver switch.
What waits for her when she opens her eyes steals all air from her lungs.
Carnations cover every corner of their bedroom, seeming to grow from the very walls themselves due to their density. Crammed onto every surface, sprouting out from intricate vases set into the corners, everywhere her eyes turned she was met with the beautiful red blooms that had mysteriously appeared during her short sleep. There was only one person to blame for something as extravagant as this.
“Alastor?”
“Yes, darling?”
His answer was immediate, echoed from the depths of the radio beside her as he stepped out of the shadows of one of the larger bouquets that sat atop their dresser. Alastor wore the most self-satisfied smile she’d ever seen as he began to casually pace the room, humming a nonsense tune as he went.
“What-” Clover sighed at his antics, feeling her skin begin to warm at the ever-odd romanticism of the Radio Demon. “What’s all this?”
“I believe some would call it overkill, but I beg to differ!”
It’s when he turns to her with that wide smile that she realizes he is without his normal coat, the black cross of his shirt that he wore beneath rolled up to the elbows and his hands bare. She noticed both missing pieces of his wardrobe laying across the foot of the bed, but was immediately distracted by the thought of how exactly he’d gotten so many flowers into the room without waking her. Nature’s aversion to his touch had dwindled as their relationship had blossomed, but it was a fickle task for him to come into contact with such delicate matters.
Dark claws pushed back the hair that had fallen into her face before cupping under her chin, Alastor drawing her out of the depths of her thoughts as he tilted her head to look up at him. The concerned twist to his brow brought her hands to the bare expanse of his arms, Clover leaning into his touch as she gazed at the garden their private quarters had become.
“Carnations?”
“I know roses are customary, but these felt more… Symbolic, for your particular circumstance,” Alastor’s voice is almost strained as it comes through his radio, static popping around each syllable. “Do you like them?”
Clover has to hide her smile in the palm of his hand, the nervous flicking of his ears paired with the abrupt change of station to an overtly hopeful piano tune too adorable for her to stand. Her lips press against his skin, muffling her voice as the familiar fluttering in her stomach takes flight.
“They’re beautiful.”
“A pretty flower for a pretty girl.”
Ignoring the burning of her skin at his flirtation, Clover tangles her fingers with his and gently tugs him to sit beside her. He resists momentarily, his brow raising in interest before he settles into the bed beside her. Clover releases one long, soothing breath before she leans over to fetch the red-wrapped box from her bedside table.
“Al I-” Clover’s fingers shake, nearly dropping the box as she settles back against his side. “I got you something. I wasn’t sure if I was going to give it to you today because of- Well, everything, but-”
His hand lays over hers, cooling the anxious warmth that had settled on her skin, as she holds it towards him. The red strings of the ribbon drag against the inside of her wrist as he takes it, its gentle caress summoning the lingering ghosts of moments past as he places it against his knee. Rosie’s intricate wrapping falls away with the slightest tug of his claws against it, opening like the petals of a flower to reveal the polished wooden box beneath it. The note she’d written to go along with it sits on top, the barely-improved scrawl of her handwriting curling with novice cursive against red cardstock.
𝒜𝓁𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇, 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒱𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝒟𝒶𝓎!
𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒, 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 ♡
Cringing inwardly at the simplicity of her note, it’s nearly impossible not to stare as Alastor spends far longer staring at the paper than anyone would need to comprehend the cookie-cutter message. He neatly placed the note beside him before he returned to the box, lifting the lid so slowly that Clover was sure he was doing this all on purpose. It was impossible to read his face as he stared down at what sat inside, the shining gold of the pendant reflecting in dark eyes as he tilted the box between his palms. The shape of a vintage microphone fills the depths of his pupils, blown wide despite their proximity to the room’s sole source of light. His silence is suffocating, Clover unable to read his expression from her position staring at his profile but too afraid of startling him to lean in further to investigate. A heavy deflates his chest, and if she hadn’t been so concerned about his opinion of her gift she might have wondered how long he’d been holding it.
“Do you not like it? I can take it back.”
A shaking laugh escapes him as Alastor shakes his head, and Clover’s ears press forward at the sound.
“You couldn’t have known, but-” He smiles, tilting his head towards her in that infuriatingly endearing way. “Well, it is possible that you could have, but your surprise at my reaction makes me think that this particular coincidence is thanks to that wonderful little heart of yours.”
Clover melts into his touch as a gentle hand slides across the back of her neck, pushing into her hair as he pulls her into him and places a kiss against the worried furrow of her brow. Their touch lingers, Alastor pressing his forehead against hers, and Clover leans forward to affectionately bump her nose against his. When he pulls back, Alastor moves to hold the gift between them, dark eyes staring down at the small golden pendant as he continues.
“When I received my solo spot on the radio all those years ago, my mother was my greatest supporter. She woke up half the city when I told her the news. It was- Unheard of, for someone of our social standing and skin color to be offered such an opportunity,” His voice wavers, his radio shuffling between frequencies as he pauses, leveling himself with a sharp clearing of his throat. “The night before my first broadcast, we had dinner together, and she gave me a gift; A pair of gold cufflinks. I knew she couldn’t afford them, I’m not quite sure how she did, but they meant the world to me.”
Gently, Alastor removes the small pendant from its cushion. It shines against the dark skin of his palm as he admires it, laying the back of his hand against her thigh. Her hands itch to reach out to him, to smooth her palm down his spine or soothe the ears that lay flat against his head, but she’s frozen by the sentimental secrecy of their conversation. Alastor’s radio lands on a familiar funeral march, something she’d grown familiar with as she learned more about his life before, and her heart shatters as it layers over the softness of his voice.
“My mother did not get to see the height of my radio career, sadly, but it is an even greater shame that you two would never have had the chance to meet. I believe that aside from being thrilled that I’d found myself a girl, she would have adored you.”
The tightness in her throat releases with a soft, hiccupping sob that Clover tried her best to contain, but Alastor’s attention shifts abruptly away from the gift cradled in his palm at the sound. It’s returned to the safety of its box before he moves the whole thing, wrapping and all, to the bedside table before he collects her between his palms. Dark knuckles gently brush away the tears that roll down her cheeks as he softly hushes her, pulling her closer as she tries to regain control of her sorrow.
“That wasn’t my intention.”
“No, Al, it’s fine. I just-” Clover presses herself into his shoulder, curling into the crimson cotton to absorb his strength. “I didn’t know how to approach today, I don’t- I don’t know how to say this.”
“Darling, you don’t have to. I know there are things that still weigh on your soul. The particular emotions connected to the end of one's life are a difficult matter to digest, and while I’ve had my time to reflect, you’ve only just begun.”
He’s too good to her, she thought. She doesn’t know what she ever did to deserve him.
“I just- I regret how I left, not that I left. It was selfish, I left people behind, I didn’t- I don’t even know how they’re doing right now.”
Her voice is muffled against the steady weight of his shoulder, she wouldn’t dare to speak them openly and further ruin this moment with him. It’s ridiculous to be emotional about the missteps of her own life at a time like this, she’d even dare to call it arrogant, and Alastor would surely scold her for thinking this way if he could hear her inner monologue. The feeling of his cheek against her temple is a steady anchor to keep her from drifting too far into this sudden onslaught of despair, Clover’s fingers curling around his forearm and into the fabric of his shirt as he patiently wades through this moment with her. Shaking herself of this odd shift in energy, Clover softly nudges the underside of his chin, and he unwinds himself from her at her signal. It’s her turn to press her hands against him, cupping his jaw in her hands and turning him down to her so she can gaze into those curious, crimson eyes as they flicker over her face.
“But I don’t regret dying. Not for a second, because it gave me a second chance; It gave me you.”
Alastor stares, blinking at her overly-sentimental statement for a moment before his smile broadens. He leans into her, pressing into her touch until her arms find their way around his neck and his lips meet hers. Pulse racing in response, Clover tilts her head to deepen the simple kiss, and a pleased hum vibrates against her chest as they collide. The privacy of their embrace provides a freedom they both take mutual advantage of, their chaste kiss melting into a slow dance of desire that pulls her into his lap, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist as the bed dips beneath them. When they part it’s with breathless laughter, Clover’s fingers releasing the grip she held on his collar to smooth the rumpled bits of his hair.
“What would you like to do today, my love?” Alastor speaks against the bare skin of her shoulder, his cheeks flushed a pleasant pink as he returns the strap of her sleep shirt to its proper place.
It takes a moment for the ability to speak to return to her after the sudden affection, Clover thoughtfully chewing at her lip as she turns to give the room another look. In a perfect world, they wouldn’t leave this room after that but she knew that if Alastor agreed, he wouldn’t have asked. But, the slow circles his thumb was tracing on the outside of her thigh told a different story, so Clover did her best to find a good middle ground for their conversation to land on.
“Well, I bought some things to make for dinner, if you’re okay with that.” She begins, feigning interest in adjusting his shirt as her hands smooth over his chest. When Alastor hums in response, she continues. “After that, can we just- Spend time together? We could watch a movie, listen to some music, maybe read together in bed, and then-”
His skin is hot against her as she presses a tender kiss against his jaw, and Clover had to hold back her smile from tainting her voice and revealing her true intentions.
“See where the night takes us. I don’t know how long you let me sleep, but I feel like I’ll have enough energy to stay up pretty late tonight.”
“Well!” Alastor stood quickly, lifting her from his lap and steadying her on her feet beside him. “It sounds like we’ve got a splendid evening ahead of us! Shall we get started?”
The hand he extended towards her was turned over in her palm, Clover pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles before dropping it between them.
“You go ahead, I don’t want to spend the entire day in my pajamas.”
“That’s a shame.” Alastor hums, tilting his head at her as his smile turns crooked in that dangerous, sinful manner that sends a shiver down her spine. “But I suppose you won’t need them tonight if you get your way, isn’t that right, little doe?”
In the second it takes her to sputter at his response, he’s swiftly backing out of their bedroom as a grand, swinging tune bursts from his radio. The sudden sound startles her from her shock, Clover catching the corner of his self-satisfied smile as he disappears into the dark hallway.
“Wait, you can’t just- Alastor!” Clover calls through her giggles, petals falling to the floor at her feet as she darts past one of the many bouquets that shadow the path to the door. “Come back here!”
As she chases after him, bare feet padding against the hardwood floors as she follows after his echoed laughter, Clover decides that perhaps she’d judged this day too harshly before.
It deserved a second chance too.