Chapter Text
Alastor awoke one morning, snuggled against Vincent. His boyfriend had his arms around him. The new routine, the new habit. Since Alastor had returned and the end of the college semester, they had been allowed to have sleep-ins, cuddling. Alastor would always wake up first and stare at Vincent, running his fingers through his hair.
He wished they could stay like this forever.
“No more secrets” is what Alastor had promised Vincent when they had been reunited, because Vincent required the security and reassurance.
But he had lied.
Alastor thought he could just keep the small, insignificant details from his boyfriend and everything would be fine, but the guilt was slowly getting to him.
It’s not like it mattered anymore, Alastor’s father was dead and he had gotten away with it, but Vincent had the right to know. He had gotten shot over Alastor, he deserved to know…
His father’s voice rang in his ears.
When you killed me, you were planning on pinning it on Vincent, weren't you?
Ah, I see. He is a toy to you.
So, tell me, what would you both be getting out of that?
I get to be free of you, and he gets to be a hero. My hero.
He would’ve done anything I asked him to.
And you’re now the one to blame for him not being here, unharmed.
That still annoyed him. That his father had attempted to blame the fact he had shot Vincent on Alastor because Alastor had had the audacity to want to end the violence.
But… it was partially his fault, he figured. Alastor had decided to bring Vincent with him.
His boyfriend had told him it wasn’t his fault and of course it wasn’t.
Alastor obviously still felt horrible, that he had brought Vincent into danger, and it didn’t help that the entire reason he had brought Vincent with him was to shift the blame of his father’s murder onto him. Before everything had gone wrong.
Or perhaps it went right, because he ended up not needing to blame it on Vincent.
Alastor had managed to get away with it without being suspected of anything, because he had managed to convince someone else, his cousin’s husband, to take the blame. He was still so impressed with himself, that he managed to convince Carter –someone who had only known him for a week– into taking the blame, and tricking him into thinking it had been his idea. He knew that he could’ve easily gotten Vincent to do that for him. His boyfriend would’ve done anything for him if he asked.
Maybe that was the problem, that Alastor could bat his eyelashes at Vincent and he’d bent over backwards to please him.
Alastor was grateful to have such a considerate boyfriend but he also felt like, to some extent, he was taking advantage of Vincent’s people-pleasing tendencies.
He didn’t want to do that.
Alastor wanted to stay with Vincent forever and if he wanted to do that, he felt like he had to confess to Vincent at some point. He just felt like he couldn’t until he could confirm that Carter had gotten away with taking the blame for Alastor’s crime.
He had been exchanging occasional texts, back and forth with his cousin, and she was giving him information when she could. Once his cousin informed him that her husband had gotten away with it, then Alastor could tell Vincent.
It had been weeks but Alastor wasn’t sure how long these things were supposed to take.
Alastor heard Vincent let out a small grunt. His boyfriend did that a lot, he was very used to the noises Vincent made. Vincent thought his noises were annoying but Alastor thought they were endearing.
“Mmm,” Alastor heard Vincent, “morning, Al.”
“Morning, Vin. Are you ready to get up?”
His boyfriend closed the very small space between them and Alastor felt Vincent’s lips on his forehead.
“I’ll take that as a no?”
Vincent was clearly still waking up, humming. “Mm…mine.”
“Mhm, all yours, sharkie.”
“Can’t we just stay in bed today?”
“Do you have work today?” Alastor asked.
Vincent let out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t think so,” he replied. “Did you want to do something?”
After the dramatic week they had had in December, Alastor had spent weeks inside, only going outside again to attend his appointment to finally get his testosterone prescription last week. Now, he and Vincent went out occasionally, because Alastor wanted to show Vincent more of New Orleans before he had to go back to college.
Only when Vincent and Alastor were both feeling up to it. Usually when Vincent had days he wasn’t working because he only had a limited amount of “spoons” and interacting with customers for hours took most of them. Fortunately, Vincent wasn’t working that much yet because the supermarket he was employed by had minors that were working for them at all hours until school came back.
“I wanted to show you a place that meant a lot to me, where I used to spend a lot of time.”
“Mind telling me what that would be?” Vincent asked.
“You’ll like it, don’t worry.”
“Al…”
Vincent hated surprises, Alastor knew this. He understood that Vincent got stressed out easily and just wanted to know what was going on.
“Just the animal shelter I used to volunteer at.”
“Oh, okay,” Vincent replied. “Did you want to get a pet?”
Alastor did, he had wanted to have another pet after he had finished grieving his childhood cat, but he had decided that while his father was still alive, he couldn’t have one. Now that his father was dead, maybe he could but…
“I don’t think it would be the best idea right now, since I’ll be gone most of the time. I just… want to go back there and look, I haven’t been there since I stopped volunteering.”
“We can go if you want,” Vincent said, “I just warn you that I’m going to be very annoying.”
“I don’t think you’re annoying.”
“But you haven’t seen me around cute animals.”
That was true, Alastor hadn’t, and honestly, he really wanted to. Vincent had a very expressive face and he always looked so cute when looking at cute things, although usually the “cute thing” Vincent was looking at was Alastor himself.
“I would love to see you fawn over a bunch of cute animals.”
“Mm… I guess we can go…” Vincent mumbled, though he was still not moving from his current position, holding Alastor close to him. “Did you want to go now?”
“It doesn’t open until ten,” Alastor responded, “but perhaps we should get dressed and eat breakfast.”
Vincent let out another exaggerated sigh. “Oh-kay…”
His dramatic boyfriend released Alastor from his hold, allowing for him to get out of the bed. Alastor stretched as he turned around to watch Vincent climb out of the bed as well, the paler of them noticeably winced when he put pressure on his leg, his right one.
The injured one.
“Is your leg okay?”
Vincent shrugged. “Not amazing,” he replied, “I should be fine after I take a few painkillers.”
“Mm. Did you want kisses on it?” Alastor asked.
“Do you really wanna give me healing kisses or do you just want me to take off my pants?”
Alastor tilted his head. “That’s a farfetched assumption, sharkie.”
Vincent rolled his eyes. “Every time you offer kisses to my leg, you want me to take my pants off,” he poked his tongue out. “I’m beginning to suspect that ‘I can’t kiss your leg directly because of the fabric covering it’ is just an excuse.”
“Are you calling me a pervert?”
“Maybe…” Vincent then paused, “but also… I’m still traumatised from your mom walking into the room when you were giving me said kisses the other day.”
“It wasn’t that bad… Maman hasn’t said anything about it.”
“You didn’t see the look on her face, Al, she thought you were about to give me a blowjob!”
“Remind me what that is, please?”
Vincent seemed confused. “A blowjob?”
“Yes, I’m not entirely sure what that is.”
“Oh, uh…” his boyfriend swallowed, looking embarrassed. “That she thought that you were going to suck my dick.”
“Mm. I have no plans to do that at the moment.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look her in the eye ever again…”
Alastor shrugged. “You never looked her in the eye anyway, you’re fine,” he brought his hand to Vincent’s face, rubbing his thumb against his boyfriend’s face, said face was scratchy, Vincent hadn’t shaved for a few days, he probably would this morning, as his facial hair was dark and very visible against his pale skin, “but alright, I relent, no pantless kisses. At least not here in Maman’s house.”
“I still don’t understand why you don’t have a lock on your door, and the fact that your mom never knocks, do you not believe in privacy?”
“I guess it’s never really been a problem for us,” Alastor paused, “not that your family has a gold standard for privacy either.”
Vincent huffed. “My family is not the gold standard for anything but you don’t need to say it.”
His boyfriend’s tone communicated to Alastor that perhaps he had stepped on the line.
“Apologies, Vincent, I shouldn’t be saying such things so carelessly, should I?”
“No, I would rather you not.”
“Of course.”
Alastor wrapped his arms around Vincent, pulling him close again, nose just above Vincent’s shoulder.
“I love you, sharkie.”
Vincent wrapped his own arms around Alastor in return, his tight embrace holding him close. He felt his boyfriend lift him slightly, as he liked to do.
“I love you too.”
It was nice to be so close with someone. Alastor had never had such a close bond, aside from his mother and maybe his childhood friend Minnie, but there was just something different about Vincent. He was absolutely obsessed with him, as much as he tried to deny it.
Alastor slowly released his hold of Vincent, resulting in his boyfriend doing the same. It was time to actually start the day, which meant getting ready.
He grabbed his glasses off of his bedside table, putting them on, before walking to his closet to select what he was going to wear today.
“Al?”
“Yes, Vin?”
“Where’s my favourite shirt?”
Alastor turned his head to look at where Vincent was standing, near the desk, over his suitcase. His boyfriend still kept his clothes in his suitcase, there wasn’t enough room in Alastor’s closet for them.
“What do you mean?”
“My pullover with the embroidered sharks, it’s not in here.”
“Hmm…” Alastor turned his head back to his closet, fiddling with his own shirts. “I haven’t the faintest idea where it might be.”
Then he waited, hearing Vincent’s heavy footsteps coming up behind him, said steps basically shook the floor. Alastor could feel Vincent’s presence, breathing on his neck.
“Alastor.”
He felt his smile widen slightly.
“Vincent.”
“I smell a liar.”
“Mm. Tell me, what does a liar smell like, puppy?”
Alastor felt arms wrap around his waist, Vincent resting his chin on his shoulder. He heard his boyfriend breathe in through his nose, sniffing him.
A long, exaggerated hum left Vincent’s throat. “Like paprika and pepper.”
“Interesting.”
“I love you but you’ve got to stop stealing my shirts,” his boyfriend said, “I had seven, now I only have four.”
Alastor couldn’t help but chuckle. “You have no proof of that accusation,” he responded, picking up a shirt, a pair of pants and underwear.
“Oh? Who else would it be? Is your mom stealing my shirts?”
“Maybe the washing machine is eating them.”
“No, because I remember taking them off the clothes line.”
“Well, I don’t really know how to help you, then, sweetheart,” Alastor shrugged as he removed Vincent’s around from around him and proceeded to walk towards the bedroom door.
He was about halfway there when he heard Vincent huff and whine.
“Al, stop it!”
He turned his head to look back at his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but look smug.
“Stop what? I haven’t done anything–”
Vincent let out another long, exaggerated whine.
“–you still have four shirts left.”
The pale young man huffed, rolling his eyes, face then scrunching as he looked to the side for a moment before his eyes widened, as though he had an idea. His heterochromic eyes darted back to Alastor, glinting, before a smirk appeared on his stupid, loveable face. Alastor loved that smirk, his right upper canine was what one could call a snaggle-tooth so it slightly stuck out of his closed mouth. Vincent only did that when he had a particularly naughty idea.
It would annoy Alastor, no doubt, Vincent’s ideas often did that, but it made him excited.
“I’m going to go have my shower,” he informed his boyfriend, not that he needed to, Vincent obviously already knew his morning routine. “Are you going to come in later to shave your face?”
Vincent rubbed the side of his own face, fingers brushing against the darker hairs only just poking out. “Mm.” He had begun to mimic the way Alastor hummed. “I think I can leave it another day, it’s not itchy yet, unless you want me to shave today?”
“Doesn’t it annoy you? That it’s so scratchy?”
“I don’t really rub my face that much, you’re the one who rubs your face on mine like a cat, licking my face like a cat.”
“When I grow my facial hair, I’ll show you how scratchy it is.”
Vincent smiled, not smirked, just a normal goofy smile. “Can’t wait!”
If Alastor was being honest, Vincent may have been more excited for the physical changes to his body than Alastor was. At least, he was way more visually excited. Oh, the way Vincent’s eyes lit up when Alastor had shown him the box containing thirty sachets of testosterone gel. He had been so happy that Alastor was getting what he had waited so long for.
Vincent was way more openly emotional than Alastor was, he wore his heart on his sleeve, and Alastor loved that about him. While it could be considered bare minimum, Vincent had been doing avid Google searches for a timeline for testosterone’s effects on trans men, just because he loved schedules and predictability so much. His boyfriend was so… sensitive, in a good way. Alastor could really eat him up, metaphorically, of course.
He turned his head back to facing away from Vincent and continued to the bedroom door, grasping and turning the doorknob, and leaving the room.
Leaving Vincent to do whatever he had clearly planned to get revenge on Alastor for allegedly stealing his shirts.
It didn’t take him that long to reach the bathroom, it was only a few steps down the hall, around the corner. Alastor left the bathroom door unlocked, Vincent always knocked if he wanted to come in and shave his face, if he changed his mind about doing that today.
Alastor stripped off his pyjamas and his sports bra before stepping into the shower, turning the knobs to adjust the temperature to his preferred one. He scrubbed himself down, carefully washing his hair.
Once he was done, he stepped out of the shower, dripping onto the bathmat for a few moments before grabbing his towel. Alastor bent over, looking at the ground, pulling the towel over his head to dry his hair first. After he dried his hair, he went to dry the rest of his body and once he was fully dry, he put his underwear and pants on first.
Alastor was still getting used to the new addition to his morning routine, he had to remind himself to slide open the mirror to take out a Testogel sachet out of the box. He tore off the top of the sachet, squeezing out the substance that’s consistency was similar to hand sanitiser, onto his hand. He then rubbed the cold gel onto his bare abdomen. He hated the cold feeling and he hated the texture but it was simply something he’d have to put up with in order to get the results he wanted.
Deeper voice, increase of muscle mass, fat redistribution, even if he wasn’t totally enthused by the idea of his body hair increasing, he’d live with it, he just wanted a lick of facial hair… not a full beard, just a little mustache or something… he was glad that baldness didn’t run in his family, to his knowledge, he liked his hair.
Alastor hoped to all that was good that he’d be the rule, not the exception, that his period would stop.
He was a little worried about bottom growth, he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, he hadn’t looked at pictures of it because the idea of looking at another naked trans man made him a bit uncomfortable. The idea of looking at anyone naked made him uncomfortable…
Except maybe Vincent. Though, Alastor still had not yet seen his boyfriend fully naked. He’d seen Vincent without a shirt (still wearing pants), without pants (still wearing a shirt and underpants), and he’d gotten a few… glimpses of his bare ass (maybe more than just a few glimpses).
He just hadn’t seen Vincent’s penis yet.
Alastor was still deciding if he wanted to see it. Well, he did but… he was nervous about it. He’d never seen a penis before, a real one, in the flesh. He’d seen a diagram of a penis in a science textbook back when he was in high school, and his packer was somewhat realistically shaped but obviously it wasn’t a real penis. So Alastor wasn’t sure how he’d react when confronted with a real, flesh-based dick, attached to a living person.
He had a vague idea of what to expect but… he was also somewhat worried of his reaction when he’d finally be ready to see it.
Anyway, standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself and contemplating his boyfriend’s penis had made enough time pass that the gel had dried, meaning he could put his shirt on. So he did. He didn’t have a sports bra or his binder on underneath his shirt because they weren’t going out yet, he’d put on his binder (and packer) just before they left.
Alastor washed his hands and dried them before leaving the bathroom, making his way through the dining room and into the kitchen. Vincent was there, and he had expected it, as he had heard his boyfriend’s heavy steps down the hallway while Alastor had been standing silently in the bathroom.
Vincent didn’t hear him enter the kitchen, he was too busy staring into one of the cupboards, looking for that cup he was so attached to because apparently “the orange juice tastes better in it than all the other cups in the house” or something. That, and the fact that Alastor walked incredibly quietly and lightly, Vincent rarely noticed when he was coming up behind him until Alastor made his presence known.
“Vince, are you alright?”
His boyfriend twitched slightly, probably a bit startled that Alastor had “appeared out of nowhere”, then turned his head to look at him.
“Yea, just looking for-”
“Your special cup?” Alastor interrupted him.
“It’s just that cup makes the juice taste better.”
“I know.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed. “You better not have hidden it like you’ve been stealing my shirts,” he said.
“What? I wouldn’t do that.”
“Just like how you wouldn’t steal my shirts?”
Alastor looked towards the cupboard, scanning the cups. He pulled out one of them. “Here it is, no?” he asked, holding it in front of Vincent.
The pale young man’s eyes fixed onto the cup before he took it into his hands, inspecting it. “No, it’s…” he paused. “Wait, yes, it is.”
Alastor hummed as he rubbed Vincent’s upper arm. “You’re silly.”
“I’m still annoyed at you for trying to trick me into thinking you didn’t steal my shirts,” Vincent huffed.
“I assure you, I didn’t.”
“Sure. I believe you…”
Alastor knew that Vincent didn’t believe him and he knew that Vincent knew that Alastor knew. He was expecting his boyfriend to unveil his mischievous plan to get Alastor to admit what he did right there but he didn’t. They stared at each other silently for a few moments before Vincent shrugged, and continued about his breakfast-getting business.
The tannish young man did the same, he was sure Vincent would enact his plan after breakfast. Their breakfast went normal, they ate at the dining table, kicking each other under it like they usually did.
“How far away is the shelter?” Vincent asked.
“About a fifteen minute walk,” Alastor replied. “Is that okay?”
Vincent did a so-so motion with his left hand, the bandages had been replaced with a compression glove with a wrist strap. “Should be, my leg is feeling a bit better after taking the painkillers.”
“Mm. Okay.”
His boyfriend lowered his hand back onto the table and tilted his head, he had noticed Alastor staring intently at his hand. “Hey, I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”
Alastor’s eyes moved back to Vincent’s face, sighing. “I still feel really bad about what happened,” he said.
“It’s not your fault.”
He knew it wasn’t but also it absolutely was. A part of him wanted to confess his intention of pinning it on Vincent at that very moment but he decided against it, now wasn’t the time. Alastor should’ve done it when they had first reunited but he had wanted to enjoy being back with Vincent, after the very dramatic week. He had confessed the most important part anyway, that his father had died and it had been him who did it.
“If you didn’t know me, it wouldn’t have happened.”
Vincent hummed sadly but then he smiled. “But if I didn’t know you, I’d be very sad,” he argued. “Very miserable. Very lonely.”
Alastor drummed his fingers on the table, looking down again. “Was it worth getting shot?”
His boyfriend reached his left hand over the table to grab Alastor’s. “You’re worth anything, okay?” he reassured him. “And while I’d prefer if it hadn’t happened, it happened, so we just have to live with it.”
Alastor sighed. “Why are you like this?” he asked.
It was probably the people-pleasing tendencies Vincent had, neglectful and emotionally abusive parents will do that to someone. Alastor really didn’t want to meet them but at the same time… he wanted to put faces to the names of the sick “people” who messed up his darling boyfriend so badly. He’d never hated faceless names more. Oh, how badly he wanted to yell at them for what they’ve done.
Alastor’s train of thought was interrupted when Vincent answered.
“Because I love you…”
Of course. What more would Alastor expect Vincent to say?
“I love you too,” he replied.
Alastor knew that Vincent probably needed professional help, and he probably needed it too. They’d get around to it at some point. Just not right now.
Once they finished eating breakfast, Vincent took their bowls to go wash them. Alastor stood up from the table to go back to his room to put on his binder and packer because they’d be heading off soon. He left his binder draped over the chair pushed into his desk and his packer…
Where was his packer?
Alastor rolled his eyes when he realised. Was this Vincent’s scheme?
Loveable moron.
After taking off his shirt to put his binder on, and putting the shirt back on, Alastor walked back out of his room and into the kitchen, Vincent was drying his hands, as it doesn’t take that long to clean two bowls and spoons.
“Vin.”
His boyfriend finished drying his hands and turned to look at him. “Yes, Al?”
“Where’s my packer?”
“I wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”
Oh, the way Vincent threw his words back at him, it amused Alastor. He stepped toward Vincent again, who remained against the counter. His eyes darted downward, seeing the small bulge shoved into his left front pocket.
Alastor hummed. “Not the faintest clue, huh?” his eyes moved back up to Vincent’s face. “I guess that second bulge is your secret second little penis? Or you’re just really happy to see me?”
Vincent must not have realised that it would’ve been that easy to see the packer inside his pocket, he opened his mouth to say something but nothing was coming out.
“Trouble hiding the extra three and a half inches?” Alastor asked, it was impossible to hide his amusement. He would’ve been annoyed that Vincent had taken his packer but he was just humoured.
His boyfriend’s hand slowly traveled into the pants pocket, and when it was pulled out, it was in a fist, firm around the silicone dick. Alastor held out his hand, indicating he wanted Vincent to hand it back to him.
But the pale young man didn’t.
“Vincent?” Alastor prompted.
A small chuckle came out of that stupid mouth. “Who said I was giving it back to you?” The tone was cocky, clearly provocative. “Give me back my shirts.”
Alastor crossed his arms, huffing. “You still have no evidence I did such a thing,” he stayed firm in his assertion.
Vincent stared down at him, clearly confident in whatever his plan was. “Well, I guess we’re at an impasse, then? You know what I want.”
The tannish young man rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“You started it.”
“You’re escalating it,” Alastor didn’t care that he basically implied that, yes, he did start it. “Shirts and packers are two entirely different things.”
“Maybe,” Vincent’s eyebrow then raised as he smirked. “How about you escalate it again?”
Alastor was confused for a moment. Was Vincent encouraging him to steal something else from him? That couldn’t be right. He ultimately decided to move his hands towards Vincent’s, so he could pry the packer out of his fingers but his boyfriend moved his hand up, holding it high above his head.
Oh. Vincent wanted a tussle. Alastor pounced on him without second thought, reaching up to try to grab Vincent’s hand to pry the packer out of his fingers. His boyfriend kept waving said hand to keep it out of Alastor’s reach, while using his other arm to push Alastor’s head down, to keep his feet on the ground.
Now, Alastor didn’t need his packer, in all honesty. The bulge was rarely ever visible unless he wore it very incorrectly or it shifted weirdly inside his pants. Wearing it was solely for the comfort of having something in there. There was no real reason for him to fight Vincent for his packet. He just enjoyed the tussle.
His boyfriend enjoyed it too, which was clearly why he had provoked him.
“You wanna keep my dick in your hand so bad?” Alastor asked playfully, having fully pushed Vincent into the counter in an attempt to keep him still while he tried to practically climb up his body.
Vincent chuckled breathily. “What can I say? I love squeezing dicks and balls,” he replied.
“How queer of you.”
“That’s me, big ol’ queer.”
They tussled for a while longer, Vincent was now basically leaning over the counter and Alastor was trying to reach over him to grab at his hand. He was basically clawing at Vincent’s arm, not violently, of course, this was just a game.
But he was starting to get frustrated.
“Vin, just give me my packet back, I could do this all day.”
“Not a chance, Al!” his boyfriend replied, not looking at him. “If you want it back, you know what to do.”
Alastor was not about to concede.
“Sharkie-”
“Nope! I’m not asking for much, just my shirts-!”
He gritted his teeth momentarily, and the words left his mouth without thinking.
“Bad dog!”
Immediate results, Vincent stilled, allowing for Alastor to reach across the counter and grab his packer. He straightened up, basically shoving the packer into his underwear as his boyfriend remained sprawled over the counter, though he had turned his head to the side, so one of his eyes was looking up at Alastor.
“Thank you, sharkie.”
But Alastor’s usage of the word “dog” had triggered the worst case of puppy eyes from Vincent. Of course, his boyfriend had used the eyes on him many times but this time…
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you mad at me?” Vincent asked, not moving from where he was on the counter, head turned to the side.
“No?” Alastor responded, confused. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“You called me a bad dog.”
Alastor tilted his head, still confused. “I call you a dog all the time?”
It was not an entirely true statement, Alastor didn’t actively call Vincent a dog. Sure, he called him “puppy” and likened his behaviour to a dog but “puppy” was a cute pet name and likening his behaviour to a dog was just playful teasing.
“Yea but you’ve never called me a bad dog before.”
“Oh…” Alastor reached to Vincent’s head, ruffling his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I wasn’t thinking. You’re a good dog, a good boy.”
“Okay…” Vincent stood up straight again, still looking a bit deflated. “Can I have my shirts back?”
Alastor looked up at him, who still stared at him with pleading eyes. “They’re in the bottom drawer of my desk,” he replied.
His boyfriend’s expression immediately changed, back to his neutral expression.
“Can I ask why you’ve been stealing them?”
Alastor shrugged. “Hiding them to take them back with me to college, I don’t know…”
“Why?”
“To wear.”
“You wanna wear my clothes around college? Why? To tell everyone ‘oh, you know that shark weirdo that dropped out? I bagged that and now I’m wearing his shirts that are too big for me’.”
“Everyone should know you’re mine,” Alastor stated.
“Nobody else wants me, you don’t have to worry, not that I’m gonna be seeing any of those people again, other than our friends, and they all know how obsessed you are with me.”
“Mm. I guess you’re right, I suppose I’ll just have to mark you so everyone here knows someone’s claimed you.”
Alastor tried to pounce on Vincent again, to get his mouth onto that exposed neck, but Vincent grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back down.
“Al, c’mon, you’re being ridiculous,” Vincent gave him a little kiss on the forehead once he’d been shoved back down. “Nobody else wants me,” he repeated, “and besides, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“I know, sharkie, I just worry about it sometimes,” Alastor stated, “that you’ll find someone better.”
“Nobody is better than you.”
Vincent was too sweet. If he was food, Alastor wouldn’t be able to eat him.
“Did you want to get going now?”
Alastor hummed. “I suppose,” he took a few steps back. “Is my packer in properly or should I readjust it?”
Vincent looked down at his crotch. “I think it’s sideways?”
He looked down. Perhaps he should readjust it. A normal person would go to the bathroom to do it but he and Vincent were comfortable with each other. Alastor unzipped his fly in order to get his hand more comfortably into his underwear, straightening up the packer. He was acutely aware of the fact that Vincent was staring at him, cheeks slightly flushed.
“Why are you acting so scandalised?” Alastor asked. “You were just treating my packer like a stress ball in your giant hands.”
“My hands aren’t that big-” Vincent cut himself off after realising he was focusing on the wrong thing. “I-I’m not acting scandalised…”
Alastor zipped his fly back up, turning away to wash his hands in the sink. “Mm,” he shrugged. “We’ve played around with my dick, when are we going to play around with yours?”
Vincent took in a sharp intake of breath before clearing his throat, cheeks slightly flushed. “Not right now.”
He chuckled. “Of course not, I’m just teasing.”
As Alastor dried his hands, he thought about it again. It was probably best he at least see, and maybe touch, Vincent’s penis before he had it inside him, not that he was ready to have sex yet, nor did he feel like he would be ready for a while. They’d only been together for about a month and a half, way too soon. At least Alastor thought so.
“Alright, let’s be on our way.”
. . .
Stepping into the animal shelter, well, the front desk part of it. At said front desk, was a blond man with hazel eyes, that almost looked golden in the sunlight from the window. Very round face, overbite, probably in his early-to-mid twenties, he was wearing a cap with the shelter’s logo on it. Vincent assumed the man was sorting through some kind of things on the computer on the front desk. They briefly made eye contact until Alastor got his attention again, opening another door to the room where the cats were. Before they entered the room, Vincent’s eyes briefly darted back to the man at the desk, and thought he looked at them again.
Which made sense, the guy obviously volunteered here and it was probably best for him to keep his eyes on the people who were looking at the animals.
The room was a “hallway”, on either side were built-in “cages”, about three feet wide each, floor to ceiling. There were about six “cages” on each side, each of them had a cat in them.
“I guess they renovated since I was last here,” Alastor commented. “They used to keep all the cats together and you could go into the space and hold them.”
“Doesn’t sound very safe,” Vincent replied. “What if one of the cats hates other cats?”
“Probably why they changed it.”
He watched Alastor approach one of the cages, crouching down, sticking his hand between the bars.
“Hello,” his boyfriend cooed.
Vincent walked after him, just a few steps, he didn’t crouch down, but he looked down. Behind the bars was a dark grey, long-haired cat with yellow eyes. According to the piece of paper taped to the front of the cage, the cat was male and his name was Tillman.
Tillman had come up to the bars to butt into Alastor’s hand, receiving strokes on his head.
Vincent walked to another one of the cages, reading the information presented on the piece of paper taped in front. Zuka, male, Siamese, one year. But he didn’t see the cat. He stood there for a bit longer when he saw a pair of pale blue eyes appear in the darkness of the hidey hole in the cat tree. Vincent stared at the eyes without blinking as though he was trying to silently telepathically communicate with the creature.
At some point, it definitely wasn’t the staring that did this, Zuka emerged out of the hole, jumping down onto the concrete floor, proceeding to the food and water bowls. Vincent crouched on the ground, pressing his forehead against the bars, trying to fit his hand through the bars.
“Pspspspsps,” he moved his fingers up and down in an attempt to coax the cat to come to him.
Zuka’s ear flicked, hearing Vincent. The cat licked up the water in the bowl for a few moments as the pale young man continued to “pspspsps”. At some point, the feline began to approach the bars but stopped and sat down, just out of reach.
“No, please,” Vincent tried to reach further in but his arm would get stuck if he did, “I wanna be your friend!”
The cat did not care and proceeded to lick himself. Vincent whined dramatically but these tricks would not work on felines, it only caused Zuka to cease licking himself and walk away.
Not that he was doing this on purpose to trick anyone, he was just like this.
However, despite not working on the cat in front of him, it worked on a certain boyfriend who happened to be very cat-coded. Vincent’s unpurposeful plea for feline attention was answered when he felt a hand on his head.
“What’s wrong, sharkie?”
Vincent looked up at Alastor as his hair was ruffled. “He ignored me…”
“Mm,” the tannish young man crouched down next to him, looking him in the eyes. “Perhaps you are too dog-coded?”
“Then why do you like me so much?”
“Because I know you’re well-trained.”
“Hey!”
Alastor chuckled but then he abruptly cut himself off, his eyes widening at something. Vincent had heard the door (where the young kittens were kept) at the other end of the hallway opening, so another volunteer must’ve walked out but why would that be surprising.
His boyfriend leaned in even closer to him. “Stay between me and him,” he said in a very quiet voice, his body seemingly becoming very tense.
Vincent was slightly confused at the request but he wouldn’t question it right now. He didn’t even look, he just turned his head back to Zuka, but he nodded.
The pale young man heard footsteps approach them, stopping about a yard away.
“Can I help you two?”
Vincent then decided to turn his head and look up at whoever was talking to them, whoever was causing Alastor stress. A white man, ashy-brown hair and hazel eyes, older than them, probably mid-twenties or so. He decided that it was time to stand up, and then he noticed that the man was only a little bit shorter than he was.
“We were just looking,” Vincent said simply.
He was never one to look people in the eyes but he was intently watching the guy’s eyes as they drifted down to Alastor, who was still crouched behind him, probably avoiding his gaze.
“You have a lot of nerve coming back here after quitting so dramatically.”
At that moment, Alastor must’ve stood up, because Vincent felt him grab his hand.
“I didn’t realise I wasn’t welcome,” Vincent was bad with tone but even he could hear the slight shake in Alastor’s voice. “We’ll be on our way.”
The man rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say you had to leave,” as though his statement didn’t outright tell them that this was a hostile environment. “We should catch up, put it all behind us, let bygones be bygones.”
“No, I’d prefer to be far away from you.”
“Just get over it, it was a goddamn joke, you’re so sensitive. You’re twenty now, right? Fucking grow up.”
Before the man could step closer, Vincent let go of Alastor’s hand in order to use his arm to block the man’s path from him.
“Do you not understand the word ‘no’?” he asked rhetorically.
The man rolled his hazel eyes. “Oh, you found some kind of crony, did you? A human shield because you can’t take shit yourself?” The questions were clearly directed towards Alastor, not acknowledging Vincent’s question at all.
“None of your business,” Alastor replied, grabbing Vincent’s hand again. “C’mon, let’s just go.”
They turned to walk away and the man continued talking after them.
“Don’t trust any of the shit he says, he’s such a fucking drama queen, can’t take a joke and takes everything so personally.”
They couldn’t get out fast enough. It was disappointing how soon they had to leave…
. . .
When the two of them returned back home, Alastor began shaking the moment the door locked. His heart was beating like it was about to burst out of his chest, his breathing quickening.
“Hey, hey,” Vincent tried to calm him, despite not knowing what triggered this. “You’re okay, you’re safe. Let’s sit down, okay?”
Alastor nodded and they proceeded to the couch, he was still shaking. “I-I’m sorry…” he took a sharp breath. “I thought he wouldn’t be there anymore, I thought it’d be safe.”
He felt Vincent place a hand on his back, gently rubbing it.
“I’m a bit lost…” his boyfriend admitted. “Can you explain so I know how to comfort you?”
Oh… yea, that was right. They hadn’t talked that much about… Alastor’s trauma, outside of his father. They had briefly talked about this but perhaps not enough for Vincent to be able to immediately understand the problem.
“Remember when I said I had a friend at the animal shelter who I thought I liked?” Alastor asked. “That I thought I could trust?”
Vincent’s eyes widened, he must’ve realised. “The one who wanted to see…?” he trailed off. “Was that him? That guy?”
Alastor nodded, and at that, Vincent wrapped his arms around him and held him close. Such a thing from anyone else would make him feel suffocated but he felt safe. Hands on him, not seeking to rip off his clothes, but to protect him.
“I’m sorry that happened,” Vincent murmured. “Did you want to talk about it? If not, that’s fine.”
“Maybe later, once I’ve calmed down…”
“Mhm. That’s all good, I will listen whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
Vincent planted a kiss on Alastor’s head. “It’s no problem.”
. . .
At some point, the two of them had moved from the couch and to Alastor’s room. Vincent was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall, Alastor’s head in his lap, looking up at him. The pale young man was running his fingers through his boyfriend’s curly hair when his phone buzzed.
Vincent grabbed his phone to look at who messaged him.
“Your cousin just texted me,” he said.
Alastor had been reluctant to give his cousin his phone number, even after she and her husband had helped him. Vincent was understanding that Alastor’s family dynamic was complicated and that he wouldn’t want to give his estranged family direct access to him again, and was willing to let them communicate through his phone instead.
“Oh, what’s she saying?” Alastor asked.
Vincent gazed down at the message.
JW: Carter has officially been acquitted of murder, it was ruled self-defense.
“Her husband got away with it.”
Alastor reached up to take the phone out of Vincent’s hand, he let him have it, to look at the message himself. He sighed in relief, turning off the phone and putting it down on the bed.
“Vincent, can I tell you something?”
“Sure, you can tell me anything,” Vincent replied, he meant it too.
“I… I tricked Carter into taking the blame for it.”
Vincent swallowed. “Uh- How?”
“Maybe… tricked is a strong word… I played being scared, and I was, but… I played being scared of the potential consequences and told him that I couldn’t let my dad hurt Jo and he took it.”
“Oh.”
There were a few moments of silence.
“Vincent?”
“Yea?”
“If I were to tell you that… if I had managed to kill my dad in that alley, I was planning on convincing you to confess that you did it… would you be mad at me? Would you have done it?”
Vincent blinked, looking down at him. “You were planning on making me a scapegoat?”
“Vin, please, just… I’m sorry, it was very selfish of me but… I just… look at me, Carter got away with it, you would’ve gotten away with it too… people like me don’t usually get away with things like that…”
He sighed, resuming running his fingers through Alastor’s soft curls. “I probably would’ve,” he admitted. “I would do anything for you.”
“I’m sorry, again, I’ll make up for it.”
“No… don’t apologise for something you didn’t even end up doing.”
“Thank you, you’re an angel.”
Vincent didn’t feel like an angel, he felt like a slimy creature. He almost wished for that alternate timeline, just so Alastor could’ve just… not been in danger for that week, in the captivity of his father.
But would he have done it? Taken the blame?
It obviously didn’t matter now, they weren’t in that timeline. They were in the timeline where Vincent got shot, Alastor got kidnapped, and Alastor’s cousin’s husband ended up taking the fall for Alastor’s father’s death. Everything had worked out in the end.
Vincent still felt awful for not being able to protect Alastor from his father. He knew that his boyfriend felt protected by him but Vincent felt like he couldn’t do anything right. He felt like he was all bark and no bite, especially now with his injuries.
He almost wanted to prove that he could do it right, he could protect Alastor…
Not like Vincent would probably get the chance for that, fortunately.