Be My Witness {17}
Part 17 - The Bayou
Word Count - 7.8K
Content Warning - drug and alcohol use, mentions of overdose, description of blood, butchering of animal for consumption, talk of addiction
Authors Note - okay okay, 1) HAPPY NEW YEARRR lets make this one a great one folks!! 2) WOAH season 2 was CRAZYYYYYY more screen time for Fat Nugs AT WHAT COST?? uhm just tHINKING about Angel makes my stomach churn god someone plEase save my angsty boy ToT... 3) uhmmmm i LOVE writing intimacy for Alastor?? eat up loves nyehehe
I'm still very open to tagging folks, simply let me know! <3
Tag List - @cha0tic-auth0r :D
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SONG: Cologne by beabadoobee
“Is everything alright in here?” Charlie stood in the doorway now. True to her word, she had a glass of water cradled in her hands.
With an inquisitive frown, she looked between the two demons standing tensely at the bedside.
“Everything's fine.” Alastor glared subtly at Angel, before doing a final once over of the doe. “Can't say the same for our friend here; she's still out like a light.” Then he stepped toward the door with a smooth sweep and a point of his staff toward Angel. “Be a good friend now, and scrub her up well. Careful not to miss a spot!”
Then the Radio Demon was gone in a flurry of shadows.
---------
After Angel's tense encounter with Alastor, he cleaned Y/n up, slowly wiping away sweat, blood and god knows what else. He could hardly see the grime until it came off on the towel. Her illusions had already gone back up, which told Angel she'd be waking soon enough.
Vaggie and Charlie offered to help, but Angel refused. And for as much as they wanted to, they didn't pressure him about it. This was a dip in attitude they hadn't really seen yet on the spider. So they let him process in peace, lest they push him into hostility.
And when he was done washing her up, he slotted into bed beside her and just held her.
When Y/n did finally wake, it was to the beat of a strong heart. Any fear circulating in her tired body slowly dissipated, driven away by the warmth that cradled her. She didn't have to see to know who it was; his chest fluff tickled her nose as she breathed in deep to wake up her lungs.
Angel spoke to her while she stirred awake, and soon enough, she was talking right back to him.
“How long was I out?” Y/n grumbled, stretching out her legs.
“Not as long as last time.” Angel’s hand pressed warm circles into her back. “It's only the evening after.”
Y/n cleared her throat, busting through the phlegm on her vocal chords. “What's the damage downstairs?”
Angel reached for the bedside and handed her the glass of water that sat waiting for her. Y/n gulped down sip after sip.
“I told them you're sick,” he sighed.
Y/n looked at him over the rim of the glass, her brow slightly quirked.
“Figured, if it worked on me for so long it could probably buy us some time with Charlie,” he explained, voice faltering. “I didn't know what else to do.”
“It's okay,” Y/n reassured. “You did good. It's probably for the best.”
“I guess. “ Angel took the glass back from her and set it away on the table again. “But, I don't know that our friend in red took the bait.”
“What, Alastor?”
“Yeah, he…” He was trying to take a chunk out of you… Angel finished to himself with a tense shake of his head. “Ugh, I dunno. Call me crazy, I just don't trust the son of a bitch.”
Y/n nodded along hesitantly.
“Okay, well, here's the thing,” she chuckled awkwardly. “He kinda, sorta already knows…”
Angel stared at her, long and hard.
“About my blood,” she finished.
Angel sat up straight, his mouth agape.
“What, so are we just telling people now? When did that happen?”
“No no, definitely not.” She tugged Angel back down towards the pillows before burrowing into his side in an attempt to both calm him and siphon his heat. “It was an accident," she clarified. "He just got a little… excited at the sight of my blood, that's all.”
“Excited?”
“Yeah,” Y/n rolled her eyes at the memory. “He snuck a taste late one night a couple weeks ago.”
The spider wanted to take the woman by her shoulders and give her a hard shake.
“Why are you saying that like it's a casual sex thing? Is this not bad? Like, really bad?”
Y/n nodded slightly while patting Angel's arm.
“I thought so at first but, he doesn't seem interested in my blood. At least not for its effects.” Y/n punctuated with a shrug. “He’s more interested in my magic, if anything.”
Angel's head fell back against the headboard. “That doesn't make me feel better,” he groaned as he pressed his palms into his eyes. “How are you okay with this?”
“In his own words- my soul already belongs to someone else. Not much he can do with that.”
But Angel still didn't buy it. Something deep in the pit of his stomach was telling him not to trust it. He couldn't help but think about Valentino finding out, and what the moth might do if he knew Y/n was messing around like this.
Then he figured, if they really weren't having sex like she says they aren't, it shouldn't be an issue… right?
Angel left it at that. What's done is done and there was no point in questioning Y/n's decisions. She could be nearly as stubborn as Angel at times and he knew that. So he pivoted the conversation.
“How are you feeling? I have work in a while. I was thinking of lighting up, wanna join?”
Smoke felt good hitting Y/n's lungs- despite how sticky it made them feel. She puffed and puffed and puffed, eager to numb the past 24 hours into oblivion. She knew she was getting close when she struggled to string proper sentences together.
She and Angel were in the middle of a laugh attack when a sharp knock sounded from the door. After a moment of Angel scrambling to extinguish the ember in the bowl, the spider and the doe called out clumsily for the guest to enter.
Alastor poked his head around the door, before pushing it open entirely. His smile was bright, near beaming. Though his eyes didn't quite reflect such mirth.
“You're awake,” He said flatly. “I've been sent to put a stop to the incendiary activities going on in here.”
“Fuckin’ ass-kisser,” Angel muttered.
“Smoking is only permitted outside," Alastor droned. "And drugs are prohibited, you know that.”
“Aw, c'mon, Alastor,” Y/n laughed airily. “Don't be such a bore. What's a little smoke between friends?”
If Y/n were more sober, she would have noticed the screech of a radio signaling the bucks discontent. How he loathed being called boring.
His sharp red eyes scanned her up and down as she lounged on the bed, blankets only half covering her. “I'd suggest you take your business on the patio, but I doubt you'd make it that far.”
Y/n was surprised by the thinly veiled and extremely back handed statement. She exchanged a look with Angel, lips puckered as she prepared to lie through her teeth.
“I'm not even that high,” she brushed off, a little too casually.
“I wasn't suggesting you were.”
And he meant it. Alastor was mostly jabbing at her lack of consciousness from just a few short minutes ago. But the fact that she thought he was talking about the drugs was quite telling; she knows, on some level, that the drugs impair her. Yet she continues using. That frustrated the buck far more than it should have.
The doe finally sat up, her ears flicking with brimming annoyance.
“Then what the fuck were you suggesting?”
“That you're weak.”
His words hung in the air between them, and no one spoke, no one moved for a stunned second.
“And pumping your body full of that junk definitely isn't helping.”
His words stung. And Y/n couldn't quite explain why. Only two weeks of training, but Y/n felt stronger already. And for Alastor, her mentor, to tell her she was incapable of something as simple as a walk outside cut deeper than she could ever bring herself to admit.
She glared at Alastor, her ears flat against her head. “Angel, would you excuse us?”
“Oh, thank God.” Angel sat up in a flurry, tucking the blanket back in behind him. “As sexy as this tension is, something tells me I'd only be a third wheel. Plus I got work.” He kissed her quick on the temple before making for the door. “I'll see ya in the morning, sugar. Stay safe.”
“You, too.”
With a final glare at The Radio Demon, Angel left the deer to their standoff.
“Where do you get off belittling a sick woman, huh?”
“Enough of that lie,” Alastor snipped, his smile tight. “You're not sick. The Vee’s wouldn't keep you around if you inconvenienced them like this as often as it sounds like you do. I know there's something else going on.”
Y/n went to speak. To cover her ass and spew another lie that wouldn't stick.
Alastor didn't let her.
“They're making a profit off of you, aren't they? And I'm not talking about the pornography.”
Y/n eyes dropped away from his, conceding to him with nothing more than shameful, fearful avoidance. She looked around the room now, like she was searching for an exit. She didn't want to be talking about this, he could tell. But Alastor had a point to make.
“But, that's not why I call you weak,” he continued. “You were stone cold unconscious, and your illusions still manifested.”
Y/n realized there was no way out of this. The truth was quickly catching up to her, and she still wasn't sure how to face it.
“What's the issue?” Her voice was small as her ears flicked at him anxiously. Her eyes stared emptily into the mattress before her.
Alastor has seen Y/n scared. He's seen her angry, distressed, unsure, insecure. But, he can't say that he had ever seen her so small; so curled in on herself and shrinking to disappear. So void of conviction. So empty.
It wasn’t… entertaining. Alastor didn't like the sight of it in the slightest.
He sighed to himself, before quietly taking a seat on the side of the bed.
Y/n pulled her legs in, tucking them underneath herself as she shied away from the Overlord.
Now, that simply won't do… he chided to himself. Can't have my own pupil cowering from me…
The bedsheet rode down Y/n's thigh. She shivered under Alastor's gaze, but didn't move to cover herself. Just sat trembling before him, avoiding his eyes.
Alastor thumbed the blanket in an attempt to remedy her obvious discomfort, before lightly tugging it up and over the doe's hips.
Her empty eyes finally snapped to Alastor’s, and slowly grew wide with alarm as he moved. His warm hands smoothed over the material and tucked it under her knee.
Heat penetrated through the fabric, down to her skin. It lingered, and soothed.
No.
No- it seared into her flesh, hot and consumptive. And, despite her raging apprehension, it left her craving more. Like being high off of her most favorite drug, she wanted the warmth to last forever- to never ever fade. To stave off the overwhelming numbness that festered deep in her bones, her heart, her soul.
Because being burned felt better than feeling nothing at all.
She watched his hand tuck the sheet. And restrained herself from snatching his wrist and clutching him to her. Stopped herself from surging forward and pressing her chest against his, hoping his hot arms wrapped around her. From crawling into his lap and-...
She swallowed thickly as Alastor finally pulled away.
“You're burning off energy you don't have, Y/n,” the buck lectured, his words disorienting her. “And the drugs and alcohol? They damper you even further.”
Y/n blinked, brows furrowed.
Alastor tsked.
“Not to mention how little you seem to feed that body of yours. When was the last time you even had a full meal-”
“Okay! Okay,” the doe huffed, shuffling her feet under the blanket. “I think I get your point.”
“You've already passed out once in our sessions, Y/n. I can't teach unconsciousness.”
She nodded slowly, almost apologetically. Alastor returned the motion, though much more assertively. They seemed to come to an understanding.
The buck stood and moved toward the door.
“Alastor?”
“Yes?”
“...Please don't tell Charlie…”
There it was again. That smallness. That emptiness that seeped into her words from deep inside her and dimmed her shine, her brightness. Poisoned her sweetness and left a bitter taste in Alastor's mouth that unsettled his stomach.
“Of all the demons in Hell,” he started, hesitant to give anyone --especially the Princess-- any credit. “Charlie might be the one who can actually help you.”
“You've helped me, y’know.”
Alastor took a pause.
Is that so?… He thought to himself. How very amusing…
“And just imagine the things we'll do when you have your strength, dearie,” he concluded with a soft point of his finger and a small chuckle.
A tiny smile tugged at her lips. It would have to do for now.
“Dinner in an hour,” he chimed, shadows enveloping him and sweeping him away.
----------
It took Y/n a minute longer than usual to get herself downstairs. She had to take pause on the second story landing, sitting before she toppled over down the flight of steps. She didn't need to make a complete fool of herself- she'd sprawled many a time on a bed in front of a camera, she needn't sprawl out on the dirty lobby floor, no matter how many times Nifty ‘cleans’ it.
She breathed deeply through her nose as she clung to the railing, and didn't notice the slithering figure approaching behind her.
“You're obstructing foot traffic,” the stranger hissed.
Y/n almost jumped at the sound of his voice. Her heart skipped a beat instead as she peeked behind her.
He looked familiar at a glance, and she quickly put together that this was the demon Angel and Cherri had been fighting weeks ago when Y/n saw the battle on the news. The newest resident at the hotel, as Angel had mentioned during their smoke session.
She glanced between the serpentine demon and the grand staircase before them.
“The landing is wide enough…and you don't even have feet,” she deadpanned as her fatigued head fell into her hand. “Figure it out, buddy.”
“Fine, then,” he hissed. “If you won't move…”
A pair of arms snaked around her waist.
“Woah, wait-!”
“Then I'll help you move.”
The ground beneath her fell away, and her grip on the railing slipped as she scrambled against the demon's arms. He lifted her up with little effort and began the descent down the stairs.
“Hey,” Y/n yelped. “I didn't ask for your help!”
“I know,” he said, matter-of-factly. “But I saw the spider bringing you in yesterday, and Charlie says don't hesitate to help those in need. I've immobilized many a rival on the battlefield, I know what an injured demon looks like.”
He sat her down on the step of the ground floor and watched as she steadied herself on her feet.
“Injured? I-I’m not…”
“It's alright. You're lucky I pity you.”
“Okay, uhm…” She cleared her throat, not entirely sure how to take that. “You really don't have to do that.”
“I know. But you are pathetic, and therefore pitiful. It cannot be helped.”
His words weren't the kindest, but the doe sort of understood the sentiment he was trying to convey. So she nodded in awkward acknowledgement, and together, they walked to the dining room.
Alastor was the chef for the evening. No one questioned or complained. They learned quickly how skilled of a cook he was and readily flocked to the dining hall whenever he cooked.
Dinner was home-cooked red beans and rice. Y/n glanced around the long table, watching as everyone chowed down on the yummy food laid out before them. Light conversation filled the air, as well as the clinking of utensils against plates. Hands reached out toward the center of the table, grabbing second, third helpings of the savory rice. It didn't look like anything would be going to waste.
And while it was delicious, Y/n only got a few bites in before she had to tap out.
Alastor didn't let it go unacknowledged.
“Only four bites, dearie?” He called her attention as she sat back in her chair. “You'd let my cooking go to waste?”
“Oh, please, Alastor,” she waved him off. “Your cooking isn't gonna go to waste here. Besides, I'm full as a tick.” She rested her hands on her stomach, and rubbed soft circles into it. “I think I'll burst if I move.”
Vaggie cleared her throat from across the table. “I'm glad you're well enough to join us, Y/n.” She got up from her seat and began collecting hers and Charlie's plates. “Hope you're feeling better.”
Charlie nodded with a smile, agreeing with Vaggie before gesturing to the doe eagerly. “Is there anything we can get you?”
“Uhm, nah.” Y/n shook her head lightly. “I'm alright. Thanks, guys.”
“Some water for her.”
All eyes snapped to Alastor. Even Nifty, who had finished her meal a few minutes ago and was now chasing insects around the dining hall, snapped to look at the buck. His command had been so finite, so decisive, but most of all, so casually attentive, it caught everyone off guard.
If Angel had been here, he would have been glaring back and forth between the deer, asking himself ‘what am I missing here?’.
Y/n stared, brow raised skeptically. “No, that’s okay-”
“Matter of fact, Charlie, I'll take one too!”
He passed his plate off to the Princess, and she rose awkwardly, not having offered to clear his dishes but doing it anyway. The ever generous host.
“Two waters, yep. You got it. Coming right up.”
She collected the rest of the empty dishes at the table and made for the kitchen in the back. Nifty dragged Husk from his seat just as he took the last bite on his plate. And Pentious excused himself to go ‘work on his inventions’.
It was silent in the dining hall now. Alastor sat at one end of the table, his eyes fixed on Y/n sat halfway down the table, her foot bouncing, her fingers tapping. The satisfied fullness of her stomach churned, and suddenly she felt a bit queasy under his gaze.
“I'm not thirsty,” she insisted quietly. She was hesitant to start a conversation with him, let alone acknowledge the elephant in the room.
Alastor leaned back in his seat, nonchalant as ever. “I didn't ask.”
“No, in fact, you didn't,” Y/n nearly growled. “So why did you-...”
Alastor's eyes narrowed slightly, and his brow quirked in what Y/n took as a subtle challenge.
But really, he was just wondering what she was going off about this time.
“God, you're insufferable,” she huffed, sitting back in her chair.
“And you, dearie,” he started, turning his chin up and looking down at her with hooded eyes. “Are dehydrated.” He finished with a single, firm downward tilt of his head.
Y/n crossed her arms. “This is Hell- everyone's dehydrated.”
“Yes, maybe so. But not everyone in Hell has access to potable water quite like we do.”
Y/n stared at him, blinking slow and long. He could feel her boredom sloughing off her in waves. He continued anyway, wanting to see how long until her her buttons were sufficiently pushed.
“You should take advantage of what you have, while you have it. Fluids need to be replenished, especially after blood loss. Same with food and nutrients. And if this,” he gestured lazily toward her. “Is going to be a common occurrence- you being in a constant stupor, I mean--”
“Yep, yeah, okay.” The sound of footsteps approached from the kitchen, and Y/n shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I get it, bucko.” Alastor didn't miss how her eyes flicked toward the kitchen doorway before landing back on him nervously.
Charlie entered not a second later, two glasses of water in hand. “Here ya are. Two waters.” She set them down in front of the deer and, with a hesitant smile, left them to their conversation.
“Besides,” Alastor droned on. “Training has been slow. And slow is boring. The quicker you regain your strength, the quicker we get back to work.”
“Speaking of,” Y/n interjected, sipping before continuing. “What's next to work on?” She sat her cup down with a satisfied smack of her lips. “Shadow transmutation? Shadow traveling?” She leaned forward in her seat suddenly, hands splaying flat on the table before her in contained excitement. “Soul summoning?”
“You actually need souls to summon first, dearie.”
“How do you know that I don't, hmm?”
Alastor blinked at her and quickly, stifling the static that threatened to escape him.
Had he missed something? Was that the reason for his intrigue with her; she did indeed possess souls of her own? Souls he might be able to commandeer? How could he have missed that?
He leaned forward slowly, almost hesitantly. He stared her down, daring to investigate anyway, despite his doubt.
“...Do you?” He asked, surprisingly earnest.
“...Mmm, no,” she said, her shoulders falling. “I do not.” Then she chuckled through pursed lips. “But I appreciate that you didn't put it past me."
Alastor tried not to let his disappointment get the better of him. He lifted his glass of water to his lips. “Let's just stick to the shadows for now, dearie.”
“Fair enough.”
“We'll work on protection magic next. By the looks of your dismal state, you could use it.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, despite the grin ghosting over her lips.
“Cloaking spells are a good place to start. If done right, they'll let you move undetected. Hide yourself from people.”
“Even the owner of my soul?”
“...No… Not for long, anyway.”
----------
Another day passed before Y/n couldn't stand to miss out on training any longer. While still a bit shaky on her feet, she made her way down and around the corridor- toward Alastor's room.
He claimed the corner studio at the end of the dingy hallway, farthest away from the main staircase. The light flickered as Y/n approached the door and she paused, letting the quiet sink in, waiting to see if she heard anything coming from beyond the door. And when she didn't, she knocked.
It took a minute for him to answer. But when he did, the door swung open and a burst of warm air escaped the room.
Alastor snapped into view in the doorway.
He looked disheveled.
No, no. Maybe that was too harsh a word.
He looked a little… less put together than usual; not quite a mess, per se. His coat was gone, missing from his usual attire. His bowtie was undone, and his monocle was hanging loosely from his vest. And his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. But it all looked very intentional.
Even the blood.
His fingers and fists were soaked, forearms smeared and splashed with crimson. If Y/n followed the splatters, the trail led up to his face where droplets landed like delicate freckles, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his temple.
In his hand was a white rag. Well, mostly white.
It was splotched with red, crumpled and sticky all over. He wiped his fingers off on it once, twice, before clutching it in his fist and leaning against the doorway with it. Again, seeming like he was blocking her from getting a full view of his room.
Despite that, she was seeing more of it than she ever had before. For a corner room, it was darker than the doe was expecting. A light flickered somewhere out of sight and lit the space softly. She didn't see a single window, just papered walls and… grass? Was that grass her eyes were peeking from behind the buck?
Alastor shuffled impatiently against the doorframe.
“Well, would ya look at what the cat dragged in.”
“What, um,” her eyes raked over his bloodied form once more before swallowing thickly. “Whatcha doing?”
“Prepping food for the week. And you?”
“Oh… I was just, coming to-… y’know what?” Y/n took a hesitant step back. “I can see this is a bad time.”
“Well, you're here now, so get on with it.”
“I just- I was wondering if you maybe wanted to have a lesson.”
“Right now?”
“Right now,” Y/n nodded shyly. “Don't want this initiative to go to waste, right?”
His hand raised in front of her face. “What an eager little student you are.” And booped her gently on the nose.
His finger left a blotch of red on the tip of her nose, and the coppery tang of the soiled rag contaminated her sense of smell as it brushed against her cheek. A shiver worked its way up her spine.
“Give me a minute. I'll meet you up in the study,” Alastor told her.
She nodded and turned on her heel.
The chill in the upstairs study had Y/n almost regretting saying anything at all about training. She sat in the chair, rocking back and forth, rubbing and wringing her hands in an attempt to keep herself warm. But it was hardly any use. Her fingers turned to icicles in minutes.
Alastor appeared soon after, his suit coat and monocle back in place, his hands washed of blood.
They got straight to work.
Y/n, in theory, understood the concepts Alastor was throwing at her. But her stomach kept cinching with shivers and her fingers kept trembling uncontrollably. Her body wasn't cooperating with her right now.
“Are we going to have a repeat of last time?” Alastor pressed.
“Listen. This stuff doesn't just happen in the blink of an eye," she snipped. "I need time to, I dunno, process. To get it in my body a bit, okay? Besides, it's cold as a yetis left tit in here. I can't feel my fingers.”
“Yes, you've been rattling like a bag of bones since I got here.”
Y/n sat back into her hip, relaxing out of student mode.
“Next session, I'll have it down, just wait and see," she promised. "But for now... maybe you can just tell me more about magic? And we can go downstairs for a drink," she offered before catching herself. "Of tea. A drink of tea. Just tea, of course... O-or coffee, like you prefer.”
Alastor was quiet for a moment, his piercing eyes flitting back and forth between her hopefully wide ones.
“...I have work to finish up,” he started.
“Oh. Right. Well, then. Some other time-”
“Join me. It won't take long. I'll have Nifty bring something up and we can chat while I work.”
---------
Of all the things Y/n imagined Alastor was hiding away in his room, a dazzling bayou scene was not something that had crossed her mind. It explained the grass, and the floating yellow-green lights she saw peeking out from behind Alastor a few weeks ago. Lightning bugs, as they turned out to be.
The doe can't remember the last time she had seen this much grass. For a second she thought it was an illusion, similar to the ones she casts; an unreal facsimile created by bending light and shadow. But as she crossed the broken wooden planks and felt the damp earth sink beneath her, it struck her that this was real.
She couldn't help but yank her shoes off and test the ground beneath her. It was soft and plush underneath her foot, and she was delighted to tiptoe around puddles until she reached the dry patch in the middle of the clearing. And when she did, she hitched up her skirts and dropped to the floor, sprawling out on the mossy carpet.
Her hair fanned out into a dark halo around her head as she stared up at the tree branches. Its leaves drooped and swayed in the breeze, though the air felt still against Y/n's skin. Her eyes traced the stars back and forth in the sky as she struggled to keep count of them all. After a moment, she gave up with a small contented smile.
A breath left her. A happy and warm sigh. In fact, her whole body felt warm. And not the drug and alcohol induced warmth that she was used to. This heat settled thick over her skin and seeped from the outside in. It cradled her and slowly nuzzled away the feeling of ice in her skin.
She laid there for another minute or so before she remembered herself- remembered where she was, whose room she was in. She craned her head against the mossy dirt and looked back toward the hotel side of the room.
There was no bed, she noticed quickly. Just a fireplace fronted by a couple of wingback chairs.
On the opposite wall was a rolltop desk. A lamp sat on top of it. It had a short but thin gold stem, capped with a shroom shaped lampshade the color of deep forest ferns. It cast muted rays of warm light onto the opened flat of the desk. Papers sat in chaotically organized piles. Sticking out of the drawers and cubbies were various fountain pens made of bone, different shapes and sizes; skeletal pieces repurposed into a thing of use.
Alastor stood by the fireplace. He leaned with one hand against the mantle, a spindly log clutched in the other. He stared into the fire for a long moment. His dark eyes shone with distant thoughts, reflecting the fierce roaring flames before him. After a moment, he tossed the log in and brushed his hands off like he hadn't a care in the world.
He walked away as sparks and embers burst out of the fireplace and swirled in the air behind him.
Y/n stood up then, lured by the sight of the stoked fire.
“If I had known your room was this warm, I would have come knocking sooner.”
She shook her skirt off before crossing the broken threshold once more. The air grew hotter with every step taken toward the fireplace. And she welcomed the heat, embraced it as she settled down right next to the hearth.
“Yes, Charlie likes to keep the hotel at a crisp chill.” The buck shed his coat and folded it over one of the armchairs. ”I spent my whole mortal life in Louisiana. Never really cared for the cold, if I'm being honest.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
Alastor began to cross the room toward the desk when the door sounded with an aggressive knock. It was harsh and frantic against the wood.
Y/n's ears flattened against her head as she jumped in place.
Alastor yanked the door open quickly and there stood Nifty with a tray in hand. She handed it off to Alastor with a great big smile before she leaned forward into the doorway and gave Y/n an enthusiastic wave.
Y/n waved back, shyly.
Alastor dismissed Nifty with a nod and a thanks before he closed the door once more.
The doe watched as a cocktail table materialized out of a flurry of shadows. The buck set the tray down on it, and the bitter earthy smell of black coffee lightly filled the space.
Y/n moved up to one of the cushiony armchairs.
There was a teapot and two mugs on the tray; one full of hot brown liquid, one empty.
Steam rose from the teapot as Alastor poured a serving of boiling water into the empty cup.
He topped it off with a bag of tea.
“What work do you have left to do?” Y/n asked as Alastor gestured to the tray again, asking silently whether she'd like sugar or lemon. The doe was surprised to see either. “Both, please,” she whispered delightedly.
“Just have to finish portioning my specialty meals.” A scoop of sugar here, a squeeze of lemon there. “A certain zealous doe interrupted before I was able to finish." He stirred the mug lazily. "I'd say no need to apologize but, it was a rather anticlimactic lesson.”
“Right… sorry about that.”
“Well,” he tsked. “There's still time for you to make it up to me.”
Finally, the buck handed her her drink.
The heat of the cup, the heat of the room, the heat of Alastors skin- it all melted together for the doe. She reached for her tea and, for a moment, Y/n found her cold fingers encompassing his.
The deer stilled. Just for a moment. Just long enough for their eyes to meet, and for their breaths to hesitate.
They stared for a spell…
Y/n pulled away first, clearing her throat in hopes that he didn't notice the twitch in her ears.
He didn't. He was too transfixed on the blush working its way up her neck to dust her cheeks.
“Specialty meals?” She fumbled. “What makes them special?”
Alastor was quiet as he turned and walked away, coffee now in hand.
In the middle of the room, another table materialized. Bigger this time, as it held something large and limp. Y/n peeked around the armchair she sat in and let her eyes sweep over the figure. With dusty brown fur and two fuzzy ears, she felt a strange twinge of kinship for the creature.
“I don't think I need to point out the irony of you eating venison, do I?” Y/n sipped her tea.
“The irony is half the reason I do it,” Alastor grinned. “It gives me a chuckle.”
“And the other half?”
Alastor removed his monocle and set it on the desk behind him before he paused in thought. His eyes glanced right, then left, then up toward the bone chandelier that hung above them, as if searching the heavens for an answer. All the while, he meticulously rolled his sleeves up to his elbows.
Y/n watched how his forearm strained, and how his wrist wound with each tug of his sleeve. His quiet confidence, the controlled restraint of it all… it was deeply salacious. Almost offensively so.
Y/n forced her eyes back on his as he came to a conclusion.
“Venison is an incredibly nutritious protein,” he settled. “It'd do you good to eat more of it.”
“You eat it because it's healthy?”
Alastor shrugged and nodded, taking a quick sip of his coffee.
“A demon obsessed with health. What a strange character you are, Alastor.”
“Why, thank you, dearie.” Alastor stepped up to the deer, taking hold of its hind leg. With a swift twist of the limb, a horrid crunch and an eerie snap!, it was removed from the deer in an instant. “But it's not an obsession with health, per se.”
“Wait, wait, lemme guess; power?” Y/n joked, to ease her disease.
He peered at her through his lashes, his smile deepening.
“Naturally.”
“Oh,” she laughed. “Now I know I shouldn't trust you.”
“How'd you come to that dazzling conclusion?” Another snap of the bone.
Y/n nodded her head in the direction of the broken deer. “That looks like regular earth biology- it's from the mortal realm, isn't it. Odocoileus virginianus; a common white tail deer. Must've been hard to come by. And the sugar and lemon? You need connections in high places to get your hands on stuff like that.”
Alastor nodded along as she spoke, his hands working away at the carcass in front of him. “Scientific name, really?” He finally laughed. “That's a bit much, dearie, even for you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
Another awful crunch of bone. “I don't even want to know how you acquired such a specimen.”
“No, you don't,” Alastor breezed past. “So tell me about the infamous Y/n instead! Entertain me; tell me your story.”
“Oh... Well,” she sputtered for a moment, taken by surprise at such a request. “I landed in Hell in the early 50’s. Was mucking about on the streets of Pen City-”
“No, no, dearie. Tell me about your mortal life. Tell me about these old habits that seem to die hard.”
“Mmm… Nothing really exciting there.”
“Let me decide that. Go ahead, try me.”
So she did.
In the time it took her to tell her story, Alastor had finished processing the animal. He made his way back toward the fireplace, settling in the opposite armchair as her.
“So there I sat,” she recounted, cradling her cup of tea. “In that dull museum gallery, surrounded by dozens of strangers, souped up on the craziest dope I've ever had. And all I can think is, what I wouldn't give to be in that painting. To be that little deer.” Y/n leaned against the back of the chair, head craning to look out at the bayou. ”Roaming the woods, eating berries 'n shit… Making friends with the other woodland creatures. Doing anything, being anywhere else.”
She could barely remember that painting anymore. Her mind flashed with the image of it and, for a moment, she thought she could recall seeing fireflies and lichen, and water bogged trees. She thought she could smell the damp moss and the heavy moist air. Thought her nose was tricking her into believing she could sense jazz in the air; the smell of a brassy horn and a hint of liquor. And something else… something entirely unique, and familiar.
Y/n closed her eyes with a contented smile as she inhaled deeply, filling her nostrils with the scent. She shifted further in her seat, placing her chin on the backrest. Her skin scratched against the rough material and her eyes popped open again to evaluate.
Alastor's coat, draped over the back of her chair. She hadn't paid it any mind at first, but now that she was up against it, she noted the finer details. The rough texture, the deep color. That unique scent.
It's him, she realized.
She had initially thought it was a trick of the mind, a false memory of what she was smelling in the gallery the day she died. But, that something familiar? That unique scent? It was entirely, singularly Alastor.
She thumbed the material for a moment, trying to memorize the sensation of it in her hand and its faint, dizzying aroma.
Alastor watched as she inspected his coat. Watched as her eyes shifted from narrow and intense, to wide and curious. Watched how her brows melted from a stern remembrance to soft admiration. For what, the buck couldn't tell. How he wished he could read her mind. Or, better yet, wished he owned her soul so he could compel her to speak her mind directly to him.
A sharp huff escaped him.
It was… an accident. A momentary slip of control. Between that and a flick of his ear, he told himself it was the lesser of evils… of vulnerabilities. And he begrudged to acknowledge it any further than that.
But the doe certainly noticed. She snapped out of her dazed thoughts.
Her gaze flitted back and forth between the buck and where her fingers fiddled with the seam of his coat. She finally released it with an uncertain twitch of her fingers.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I don't mean to bore you.”
“You aren't,” Alastor promised quietly. “Go on.”
Y/n nodded.
“And then things got heavy. I got really tired, laid down on the bench in front of the painting and stared at it until it started to get blurry. Swore to myself I'd only close my eyes for a few seconds. Then, poof… I woke up here.”
“How so very poetic.”
The doe rolled her eyes, resting her head on his coat once more. This time, her temple.
She did not seem to agree.
“I'm being as serious as the Spanish flu, dearie.”
She grinned despite the sideways glance she threw his way, trying to deny his humor. She failed.
“So you've always had a substance issue then,” he prompted.
“No, not really,” she denied. “On Earth, I didn't start using until my husband began bringing home experimental substances.” Y/n could see the question on Alastor's tongue. “He was a professor at a university, you see- biology. Had close colleagues in the chemistry department… And then he got really sick really fast. And when he died, I suddenly had access to all the pills he left behind.”
Y/n shook her head in what seemed like disappointment.
“And my first couple of decades in Hell were pretty clean, too. I mean, every once in a while I'd get a taste of my own blood and, well… you know how that goes. But other than that, I was clean. Somehow, it was easier for me to ignore the cravings when they were mostly mental, and not physical- new body and all.”
Alastor crossed one of his legs over the other. “So, then, what happened?”
“I guess the years wore me down. The job, my boss- you've met my boss. I got on his bad side one day and he, uh…” Y/n cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I never quite made it back into his good graces.”
“Sounds ferocious. Though it doesn't take much to tick that one off,” Alastor said with a lighthearted chuckle. “What did you do, drop his cigarette? Spill his drink?”
Y/n stayed silent.
Alastor looked her over. She seemed suddenly frozen in place; eyes unmoving, chest still. As if all too keen on blending into the environment.
Alastor leaned forward in his seat.
“What did you do?”
The room seemed to drop in temperature with the way a tremor shook its way through the doe.
“I confronted him,” she finally said with the smallest of shrugs.
She set her cold mug on the side table.
“About what?” Alastor prodded.
“About… I dunno, just-...” Her hands wrung in her lap before she let the fire beckon her to its side once more. “Something silly,” she dismissed as she settled next to the hearth. She fiddled with her skirt to convince herself she was unbothered by their topic of conviction. “It doesn't really matter.”
“Well it must have mattered if you're still using because of it.”
That stilled her all together.
She could only bring herself to give a weak shrug.
Y/n turned away from him after a moment, letting the fire hold her attention now. Her eyes reflected the dancing flame as she seemed to lose herself in distant thought. Alastor could practically hear the cogs turning in her mind as he watched her shoulders slowly coil with tension.
Her hair fell and fanned over her shoulder as she pulled her knees up to her chest. Nestled in the loose feathery strands of her hair, Alastor spied several pieces of moss.
Soft, and bright green, it sat there like it belonged. As if the bayou was slowly claiming her as its own- sewing its seeds, and planting its roots in her.
Alastor was all too eager to let it. He nearly welcomed its greedy possession, despite the dreadful knowledge that he could never actually have her.
Not her soul anyway.
His ears twitched. Small and imperceptible. But he felt that twitch shudder down the back of his head, and down his neck. It made his lungs twinge in his ribcage as his breath caught. And then the twitch shot all the way down his spine, to the very tip of his tail. The appendage swished back and forth for a split second before the buck could put a cap on it.
But he didn't fret. Didn't sneer or peeve or rage. Not like he usually would.
Instead, he let the twitch guide him. Let it inform his movement. Which led him out of his seat and onto the ground next to the doe. Finally, the twitch landed in his fingers.
His hand raised –slow but oh-so sure– and plucked a piece of moss out of her hair.
He held it up for her to see.
“The bayou suits you,” he murmured.
Y/n tore her eyes away from the fire, and quickly found his.
Alastor’s smile was small and genuine, and he held her gaze evenly, never one to shy away.
“Is it always this warm in the bayou?” She asked quietly.
“Just about.”
“...I think I'd like to stay, in the bayou.”
“...I think I can arrange that.”
-----------
Another bright morning in Hell and the Princess Morningstar was scrambling after a lazy start to her day. A new idea had struck her after her morning… activities, and had her springing out of bed, ready to work. Words spewed from her mouth, trying to convey her thoughts and ideas as they came. Though, they mostly sounded like the ramblings of a deranged person.
“A doctor? A doctor for what?” Vaggie asked while lounging on the bed, not entirely sure she had heard right as she watched her girlfriend struggle with her clothing. She couldn't quite tell if this was one of those times where she should further question Charlie, or just let her burn herself out.
A doctor for the hotel's residents wasn't a terrible idea, not at all. But decent doctors were hard to come by, especially in Pride Ring. Not only were they extremely sketchy and below board, but they were also extremely expensive. And Vaggie wasn't sure there were much funds left over from the renovation.
Charlie skipped across the length of the penthouse, arm caught awkwardly in her suit coat as she scrambled to pull it on.
“For a general check up! For Y/n! See if we can't figure out what she's sick with, maybe we can help,” she yapped excitedly. “Plus, my Aunt Bel always has the best remedies aaand she kinda owes me a favor.”
Vaggie thought about it for a second, slowly finding reason in Charlie's prattlings.
“I guess Y/n has been pretty out of it since she's gotten here,” she realized. “Seems like every other week she's out of commission.”
“Yeah she's only been to, like, half of my lessons.”
“Maybe it's time you put your foot down.”
The silver haired demon tossed the blankets off herself and stood up from the bed with a big stretch. Then she padded over to the princess standing at the vanity.
“Things are getting pretty serious at the hotel now.” She embraced Charlie from behind, temple resting against her back as she spoke. “People need to know you mean business; that means your residents, too, right?”
“Right!” Charlie turned in her arms, nearly bursting at the seams. “Oh! And we should have a home doctors office built while we're at it. There's still room up here on the upper floors.”
While that was true, the hotel was almost entirely renovated at this point. There were only a few rooms left to fix up, and this wasn't something they had discussed for the new floor plan so it'd be a bit of an inconvenience to pivot now.
Even so, it's nothing Vaggie wouldn’t do for Charlie.
“Good thinking, babe. We should move it down to one of the first floors eventually, though,” she added thoughtfully. “Don't want guests to have to trudge all the way upstairs every time they need medical attention.”
“Good thinking! Yay, thanks!”
"'Thanks'?" Vaggie laughed lazily. “Thanks for what?”
“For everything you do,” Charlie smiled.
The Princess seemed to slow for a second, her ambitious energy coming to a lull as she looked into Vaggie's eyes. Then she leaned in –slow, but eager– and placed a happy kiss on her lips. “I love you, Vaggie.”
~~~~~~~~~
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A/N- Charlie was highkey pmo with how she was treating Vaggie all season 2 so FUCK THAT in MY fic Charlie is gonna be beefin up on consideration for Vaggie as a means to remedy that
lemme know what you think!! im happy to take feedback :)
