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Alastor wakes up to a warm bed instead of a cold one.
Pillows scatter around, currently used next to him or discarded on the floor for space, instead of neatly tucked at the head of the bed. There’s breathy snoring taking up the air instead of the sound of his radio. It’s funny how soft snoring can fill the emptiness inside him more than the booming sound of morning broadcasts.
Actually, it’s the fact that Alastor’s even waking up at all. To wake up means to have been sleeping. He tries to blink awake, eyes heavy and drooping, as he stretches his limbs out. It doesn’t work. It seems that today will be a slow morning.
Days like these are rare.
Sand of time slips between his fingers whenever he’s around you. Everything flows so fast when it’s just you and him. Will time slow once more when it’s eventually time to leave?
Your head pops up from the whirlwind of feathers. A hand reaches out to pat the empty space, and a displeasure hum escapes as you chase the lingers of his warmth. Eventually, your hands end up finding one of his pillows, pulling it closer to your chest. Once more, your head retreats back into your bundle with closed eyes.
Alastor pulls the blanket up your shoulders when your snoring begins to shake the walls.
It’s him who’s in control. It’s Alastor who controls his body and his actions, and it’s not the other way around. Hmmm… maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to lose control for one, especially when you’re still searching the space he no longer occupies. Alastor should fall back into bed, trying but failing to blink away the heavy weight of sleep.
Instead, he runs his hands across the sheets, searching until he reaches your hand. The rings around your fingers clinks when he intertwines his fingers with yours.
You settle back into sleep—feathers on your head, four fingers attached to your hand, and currently holding the heart and hand of one of the most vicious Overlord in this realm.
There’s much to do today, but Alastor will hold your hand like this if it means this moment can last.
Eventually, Alastor releases your hand to go to your side of the bed. He smoothens some of the whirlwind of feathers that currently nest you. A hand snakes under your head as Alastor gently peels the blanket away from your shoulders. The hand supports your head as he sits you and hooks an arm underneath your knees.
You’re blinking awake as he carries you in his arms. Instead of complaining, it seems you’re just determined to sleep. So, your eyes close shut as he settles you in his arms.
It would be funny to drop you right now. Actually, it would be downright hilarious. Dropping you would certainly pull him out of this morning slump. Alastor wants to do it…but you’re settled into his arms…
Instead, he lands you gently on the vanity chair. You’re sitting up, trying to blink awake but still not fully out of the forest.
Groggily, Alastor grabs the brush from the table and runs the bristles between your feathers to preen it. Each pass of the brush serves to bring you deeper into a lull.
Your head nods off, even as Alastor preens your feathers. He has to gently pull on the ends to keep you from fully going back to sleep and falling over. A big and hearty yawn escapes you, and the absolute audacity of you to yawn when you should know that when you yawn, Alastor eventually yawns as well.
Alastor stifles a yawn, eyes half drooping as he brushes your feathers. “Now, now,” he says and despite his very best efforts, Alastor yawns. “What ever shall I do with you in this state?”
Your eyes flutter into a close, and Alastor has to tug you awake as you mumble out a small and sleepy. “Marry me?”
“I already did that.” Alastor’s eyes droop even lower, and he has to shake his head to bring himself out of the lull of the early morning.
A hum escapes you and you settle deeper into the chair. “Do it— yawn— again.”
“I also…,” Alastor begins, trying and failing to stifle another yawn, “…already did that as well.”
There’s a hum once more as you lean into the way Alastor brushes your feathers. Some of them puff up and expand as you sink into them like a comfortable bird. It looks quite soft to be buried underneath all those feathers.
It’s Alastor who is in control, not his body… but Alastor can also do whatever the hell he wants, and what he wants is to go back to sleep. And if he’s going back to sleep, well…he might as well take you back.
The brush gets discarded somewhere irrelevant to his mind, and Alastor carries you and him back on the bed. This time, he actually drops you, snickering as you bounce on the cushions. Apparently, you’re too sleepy and dazed to do anything about it.
Alastor crawls back under the blankets, and has enough sense to land his head on your chest. Every breath you take cranks his head up and down.
Finally, he allows his eyes to droop to a close.
You pat his head, half-heartedly trying to push him away. “…heavy… you’re heavy.”
“…rude…,” he mumbles and as punishment, Alastor presses deeper into you.
Quite the dangerous game he’s playing, indeed. Alastor’s gotten comfortable— too comfortable. As you draw circles on his back, Alastor can already predict how the rest of this morning will go. It was that easy to settle back into a routine with you.
He’ll have to re-brush all the feathers, and pick up the ones that scatters on the floor. After that, you’ll force him to brush his teeth and you’ll grab him by the ears if you have to. Once that certain battle is over, it’ll be time for breakfast. Alastor’s finally gotten you used to eating breakfast once more. So, skipping glossing over that habit won’t do.
Part of him wonders who will make sure you eat proper food once he returns to the hotel. And that thought plunges him into an even more dangerous game.
Because his mind wonders if he should get a car, and drive to the hotel everyday. Alastor can even drive you to work and drive you back. If he lives here, it will be like this every morning and every night and every afternoon and everything in-between.
The bed will hold two instead of one. All pillows will be used and scattered around the bed. The blanket will be spread wide instead of curled around a singular body that’s chasing a warmth that isn’t there.
What a cruel, cruel , dream for his mind to conjure up. Alastor really must be still asleep to be able to entertain such dreams.
You’re swatting his face, pulling him from the deep forest of sleep. “Al, get up,” you mumble, pulling his head closer to your body. The points of his antlers press into you. “We can’t stay here forever.”
Alastor wants to ask why not, instead he curls his hands around your shirt. “…okay…let’s wake up.”
“Come on, get off me.” Your arms lock themselves around his neck, smothering him as you curl closer “Alastor…we have to leave soon.”
The irony doesn’t escape him.
Eventually, the time comes where the day must begin. Sleep loses its hold on your bodies, and the lazy morning just turns into a morning. Despite that, Alastor still carries you to the vanity and brushes your feathers again.
Strands of feathers pass through his fingers. “They’re starting to look quite healthy again.”
“That’s because they’re being regularly preened,” you say, smiling at him from the reflection of the mirror. “It’s hard to reach the back on my own.”
Alastor hums, maybe he really should buy that car. “It’s getting longer.”
“It’s always been this long,” you tell him as feathers flutter when Alastor brushes over a particular sensitive spot. It has you sinking back into the puff. “I just tie them together to keep them from fluttering around everywhere.”
Alastor picks out a feather that sticks out of your scalp and plays with it a little. They tickle. “Does it need to be tied up today?”
There’s a small and shy smile on your face. “I’m not going to work today….So, no.”
There are flowers in your hand.
Alastor watches you tend to them with gentle touches, his hand pressed on the small of your back as you both walk down the street. There’s a small smile on your lips as you observe the flowers, giving it an occasional sniff here and there.
Feathers flutter behind him as he walks with you. Alastor summons a voodoo-doll to trail behind and pick up and discard any feathers that fall off. He knows how cautious you get about the feathers.
You bring the bouquet to his face. “Do you like them?”
“Are they for me to like?” Alastor takes a sniff. These are real flowers with proper stems and petals, and not something easily acquired in Hell.
“Not particularly.”
Alastor presses on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him to avoid the puddle of blood. “They’re lovely—but why do you have flowers?”
“They’re for Miss Rosie!” you say, sighing. “Do you think she’ll like it? I hope she will.”
Alastor tilts his head. Miss? “I’m sure she would love them,” he says, and steps over a piss puddle when you tug on the sleeves of his coat. “How come I never received such gifts from you.”
A flash of a frown. It’s replaced by a proud huff. “I’ll give you flowers when you give flowers.”
“The ones from last week are currently sitting in our vase,” Alastor says, and he can’t help how his ears press flat with annoyance. “They’re quite healthy, if I might add, considering I just watered them this morning.”
You press a quick kiss on his cheek that has his ears straightening. “Well, I haven’t gotten any flowers from you this week.”
“There’s no use trying to win Miss Rosie’s favor when I’m right here, dearest!” Alastor says, rolling his eyes into a squint. “Her and I are the oldest and closest of pals, and it’s only natural that she would favor me more—flowers or no flowers. It’s cute of you to try, though.”
You scowl at him, giving a small huff as you bring the flowers closer. “Do you seriously think that?”
“I cannot wait to see the absolute devastation on your face when your efforts fail in vain.” Alastor boops your nose, and presses a kiss on the edge of your lips. “It’s just the thing to make my day. How absolutely thoughtful of you to do this for me, my love.”
“You’re quite welcome,” you say, snickering as you give him a little showman bow. “Thank you, by the way…for such romantic words. Any wife would definitely swoon when hearing such a thing.”
Alastor laughs and pulls you closer to him.
Piss and blood puddles disappear as you both enter the borders of Cannibal Town. There’s still quite some mess as Sinners chomp down on their friends or family…sometimes both friends and family, actually. Intestines and guts are hurled and shared between the far and wide.
You catch your reflection on a window shop, stopping to fix your appearance. A hand goes through your feathers to smoothen the ones that stick out. It’s vibrant once more, considering someone is there to make sure they’re preened. (Maybe Alastor really should buy that car.)
“How do I look?”
Alastor tucks some feathers behind your ears, and curls them around his finger. Each word he speaks brushes your feathers with his lips. “Absolutely beautiful.”
The doors to Rosie’s Emporium open with the sound of a bell. It’s quite empty today. Not many Sinners stalk the halls of her shop. Rosie’s head snaps when she hears the bell, smile widening when she spots you with Alastor.
You take a step forward and present the flowers to her with a small bow. “For you, Miss Rosie,” you say. “How I have absolutely missed you!”
Rosie snatches you into a hug, pulling you flush against her into the tightest of hugs. There’s a sly smile on Rosie as she turns her eyes towards him, and hugs you tighter.
Alastor’s eye twitch
“Where has Alastor been keeping you cooped up?” Rosie pats the top of your feathers, stroking them gently. With each pat, you snuggle deeper into her hold. “You hear that Alastor? She missed me!”
“Of course I have!” you tell her with a wide smile. “There’s not a single person in this city who can match your class.”
Alastor trails his claws across his microphone. “What do I have, then?”
Rosie still hasn’t pulled away from the hug, and it seems you’re not going to be the one who steps away first. “Are you sure you’re not looking for a wife?” you ask, not bothering to answer Alastor. “Such a woman like you shouldn’t be alone.”
Rosie laughs, finally breaking the hug to pat your shoulders. “Know a gal?”
“I think I might just do,” you say and bark out a laugh.
More laughter erupts and Rosie snakes her arm around yours, pulling you deeper into the emporium. Alastor follows along, feeling like a third-wheel. Three sets of cups and a whole tower of snacks are arranged on the table. Rosie pulls a seat out for you, and you take it with a bright smile.
Hmmm… Alastor’s chair is scooted quite far away from yours.
Rosie pours you some tea, chatting about everything and anything. You listen intently, laughing occasionally at whatever Rosie mentions.
Alastor takes the tong, placing some lemon looking brownie into a plate, and slides them towards you.The yellower the treat, the better.
You flash him a smile when you notice the small plate.
Alastor turns to Rosie with his own sly smile.
As you take a bite of your brownie, your hand wraps itself under the base of his chair. Alastor gives you a questioning look, but you’re staring straight into Rosie’s hollowed eyes with fluttering eyes “….I told him that there’s no way he can take his brother out through this door.”
Rosie laughs, loud and hearty as she slaps the table. “And let me guess—“
“ He jumped through the window!” The both of you exclaim, crying out tears of laughter.
“Now that’s quite the dedication,” you say. The legs of his chair scrap the floor when you pull him closer. Alastor sits up straight, blinking as he’s forced closer by the strength of your pull. “The nurses had to wheel the both of them up, and we gave them a room with no windows this time.”
Still, you’re pulling on his chair. The effort of bringing your chair closer doesn’t hinder your speech or the enjoyment of your tea and brownie.
Rosie grabs a second metallic dispenser and pours what appears to be coffee into a teacup and slides the thing in Alastor’s new spot. “One of my clients got caught with his boyfriend’s sister,” she says, and has to reach further into the table to set the coffee cup in front of him. “He’s totally fine with it, apparently. Just wishes he’d stop smooching his sister.”
“What does the sister think?” You reach for some cold cuts and place it on a plate. That too gets presented to him.
“She didn’t know that him and her brother were a thing,” she says. “And she did quite the number on the boyfriend when she found out he cheated on her brother. She wasn’t too happy about it. Quite the sibling bond.”
Alastor’s smile turns a fraction softer as he enjoys his coffee.
Gossip continues to spread and be passed around. Usually, Alastor will have his own scandalous stories, but his mind plagues him. It forces him to continually re-play the events that transpired a few seconds ago.
Alastor wasn’t going to make a fuss about his chair being too far away, and he was content on drinking tea even if his preferred beverage happens to be coffee.
And… fuck .
Now, his mind drifts back to the car as he takes another sip of coffee. Alastor can pay for the whole thing right away. There would be no need for any down payments or loans, not when he can secure suitcases of cash with a snap of his fingers.
The drive from you to the Hazbin Hotel shouldn’t take too long. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad. And he can make it to you in time for dinner if he breaks each and every speed limit. And there’s also the idea of picking you up from work. And Alastor can always wait in the car if your shifts lasted too long. And mornings would last longer if he drove you to work as well….And…
And…
And Alastor decides that your chair is still too far off.
Tendrils wrap around the legs of your chair, a secure grip around the wood.
“She’s just been writing people up for pettiest reasons,” you say, picking up your plate and teacup. “Just the other day, I heard that Maggie got scolded for having a blue pen in her pocket because we’re only supposed to use black ink. Maggie wasn’t even using the blue pen.”
Alastor used the tendril to pull your chair, stopping when only inches of space separate him from you. The plate and teacup are gently placed down on the table, and it finally makes sense why you picked them up in the first place.
Rosie refills his coffee. “Ayeesh, that would be annoying.”
You reach under the table, searching until Alastor catches your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. The pads of your thumb go up and down the cool metal of his ring.
There’s a smudge of frosting on your lips that you don’t seem to notice.
Despite being closer, Rosie reaches across the table with a dashing smile as she slowly wipes the smudge off your lips.
Two sets of eyes turn to him with smug smiles.
Alastor takes one long sip of his coffee, and squeezes your hand.
You squeeze back, even as you bat your eyelashes at Rosie and thank her.
Alastor has to take another long sip of his coffee. What is he doing? Well, actually, he does know what he’s doing: He’s watching his best friend and his wife turn into putty at the sight of one another, and a low and defeated sigh escapes him.
( Should he just buy the fucking car?)
Alastor isn’t keen on losing. His best friend and his wife seem to enjoy each other’s affection even with him in the room. Now, whose attention should he focus on? Well…it’s obviously going to be his wife’s affection that he shouldn’t lose out on because there’s no way Alastor would lose you, even if that person happens to be one of his dearest friends.
As soon as your plate empties, Alastor snatches it faster than Rosie can. It was a close competition though, her fingers were right above your plate.
Alastor piles on more sugary treats on your plate before passing them back to you.
Rosie settles back into her chair, leaning on her palm. “Enough about other people,” she says. “How are you guys doing?”
Alastor’s smile widens as he puffs his chest. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Well, you know how it is,” you say instead. “Hard—especially being married to this one.”
Rosie gives you a look as the both of you seem to share a knowing glance that Alastor doesn’t understand. “ Men .”
“Hard?” Alastor parrots, huffing a little with offense. “Our marriage isn’t hard wo—Excuse me, I need to attend to a little business.”
The table jerks from the way Alastor stood abruptly. Plates and glasses shake, and Rosie clutches the sides to steady the table. Eyes turn towards Alastor, but he’s already strutting out the door…
Except…uh…
Well, Alastor skids to a stop, turns right back to place a kiss on your forehead, and gives Rosie a pat on the shoulder and a smile before finally exiting the room.
You and Rosie bark out loud laughter, clutching your stomachs as you calm down.
Rosie wipes a tear from her hollowed eyes, and re-fills the teacups. “He’s been missing for several years,” she says. “I was beginning to think he bit the dust when news spread that he was back.”
There’s a sad smile on your face. “I understand the feeling,” you say. “But what’s seven years compared to the decades we’ve spent together and the decades we will spend together? That’s what I kept telling myself.”
“You’re happy he’s back?”
Thay sad smile morphs into a shu but definitely a happy one as you bring your fingers together. “It’s just nice to be able to be next to him once more.”
Rosie smiles at you. “Well, you certainly look happy.”
“I am…Oh… Oh!.” You stand up from the table as well, and Rosie has to clutch the sides. “I just…Give me…Um…Excuse me!”
Rosie shakes her head as you bolt out the door, waving you off as she takes another bite of her cupcake.
Two empty chairs, pressed against each other, stand before her. Has she just been abandoned?
Rosie is staring out the window when she spots you and Alastor.
With eager eyes, Rosie watches as the both of you walk up to each other, wide smiles painted on your lips. Laughter bounces around the room when she spots what’s hidden behind your backs. Well, that certainly explains why the both of you rushed out the room.
There are words Alastor says to you as he hides a bouquet of flowers behind his back. The window muffles his words. Alastor brings out the bouquet, presenting it to you with a boyish smile.
Even through the window, Rosie can clearly see your laughter as you bring out your own bouquet of flowers from behind your back. There’s a smile on your face when you present the flowers to Alastor.
Alastor runs a hand through his hair as he laughs.
You’re staring at everything and anything but Alastor with that same shy but happy smile.
Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of his fingers to force you to look at him as you exchange the flowers you bought for each other.
Two pairs of eyes notice Rosie staring out the window and she raises her teacup for a toast. She leans on her palms as she watches you and Alastor walk away, hand in hand with flowers around your hand.
Guess she’s the loser in today’s game.