#ler!vincent

Alastor was not worried. Alastor didn’t get worried. Especially about other people.

Vincent was his associate. And a competent one.

Alastor didn’t feel concern.

He was fine.

He was just… annoyed.

Yes. Annoyed was the right word.

They'd been cohabitating more than usual and Alastor had grown rather fond of staying with Vincent at his house. One week ago, Vincent sat him down, looking concerned and uneasy, and had told him about a recent upcoming visit with his parents.

Apparently, to celebrate Vincent's 34th birthday, they were planned to come over to Vincent's house just a few days later and his dad had a problem with, as Vincent put it, 'darker-skinned folk'.

An old racist white man. Nothing Alastor hadn't seen before.

Vincent looked visibly uncomfortable discussing his dad. Alastor had bluntly pointed out that he looked like he didn't even want to see him, so why even allow him into his house?

His mother. Vincent still wanted to see his mom, and you didn't get one without the other, apparently.

Alastor supposed then he could understand tolerating the visit.

"It's just plain not safe for you to be around him. He can get... aggressive." Vincent had looked so tense... so nervous saying that. "It'll be fine. My folks will be here for a few days. I'll call you Saturday afternoon, a week from today. Their plan is to leave around midday on my actual birthday. So once they're gone, I'll let you know when you can come back over."

It was now 7pm that Saturday, Vincent's birthday. The Saturday he was supposed to call in the afternoon.

He had first felt that inkling of nervousness, ah, annoyance, at exactly 5pm. It was no longer afternoon in Alastor's eyes, moving towards the evening, and he hadn't called.

He decided to give it time. He trusted Vincent. He was capable and strong.

It had now been 2 hours since 'giving him time'. 2 hours was enough time to at least call his landline.

Alastor bounced his leg as he sat in his armchair. He stared down at the key in his hands, the spare key to Vincent's house.

Lord, he couldn't take this anymore. He had to be there. He had to know what was going on.

...

Alastor made it through the bayou in record time, slinking onto Vincent's back porch as the sun was just sinking beneath the horizon.

All the lights in the house were off. Alastor crept to the side of the house to eye his driveway. Vincent's car was still there and there were no other vehicles.

But there were black tire tracks leading from the driveway, across the front lawn, and past his mailbox, now broken on the pavement.

Alastor readied his pocket knife and returned to the back porch. He stuck his key in the lock, carefully turning it and opening the door.

It was dark inside. He couldn't make out any significant details of the rooms. His breathing and footsteps were silent. He didn't turn on a light yet, still unsure of any hidden occupants in the house.

He slowly did his reconnaissance of every room, checking for people or clues as to what happened. He found a broken lamp, two smashed bottles of alcohol, one of which was empty due to the lack of a puddle, and a collection of smoked and smothered cigars, which was notable as Vincent had a distaste for them. He ended his investigation at Vincent's master bedroom.

There was the faintest of lights creeping under the door and if Alastor listened closely he could hear unusual breathing.

Huffing, choked up, as if someone had been crying for a long time.

Certain there was no one in the house aside from the singular man inside, Alastor made his voice known.

"Vincent?"

A sharp intake of breath followed by a quiet pause.

"You shouldn't be here." His voice was raw.

"Well I am. I've been waiting on your call. I thought you might've been in a bit of trouble."

Another long quiet. Alastor gave him time.

"It's not safe. He could come back."

"It is safe." Alastor assured him eagerly. "I've checked thoroughly. If anything new happens I'm sure I can handle it like we've... handled plenty of people before."

Alastor sighed, hand resting on the doorknob.

"I know you have a gun in there. I'll lock the door. We will be safe. We are safe." He spoke seriously before chuckling lightly. "And what was it you said to me once? 'My home is your home' or something to that effect?"

"You can't kill him." Vincent spoke flatly but with noticeable conviction. "My mom would probably find out. Plus some of the family knows about the visit too. If he were to show up dead, we'd be immediate suspects."

"A task for another day then," Alastor spoke with a lighthearted and mischievous tone. "Under more... discreet circumstances."

A long sigh. "Okay. Okay, you win. But please, if he comes back, listen to me and stay quiet, okay?"

Alastor smirked once Vincent finally acquiesced.

"I can be deadly quiet when I want to be, as you well know." He spoke in a purr.

He heard footsteps. They weren't the confident loud gait he heard regularly, no, this was a nervous shuffling towards the door.

It clicked open and Alastor stepped inside to see Vincent already with his back turned walking back to his bed and laying down in a partial fetal position with the blanket tossed over him, hiding his face and body.

He carefully entered the room with no sudden movements and locked the door behind him. The bedside lamp was on and the lockbox Vincent kept his gun in was out of its hiding place from beneath the bed and sitting unlocked on his dresser.

"I was expecting a call hours ago and didn't hear from you. I even called you and there was no answer. You must forgive a man for being concerned about his partner in dangerous and less than legal business."

"I was just waiting to be sure it was safe." His voice was muffled beneath his comforter. Alastor was not an idiot, he had a vague idea of the severity of the situation, but seeing Vincent huddled under the covers as nothing more than a lump made him smile a bit wider than he really should.

Alastor wasn't exactly the comforting type, but he had his ways to lighten a delicate situation.

"We're hiding under blankets, now are we? Is that anyway to address your business partner?" His voice was teasing but noticeably gentler than usual. He easily scanned the comforter folds and figured out his positioning.

So he aimed a poke right at his upper ribs through the blanket. It wasn't truly to start something, not yet anyway, but just to demand some attention. The man squeaked and shifted but nothing more.

"Tell me what's going on. Not only will it probably help you feel better, or so I've been told, but it'll help us get to planning how we'll solve this. I'm thinking... feed him to the gators? Not my usual style but near impossible to trace."

Alastor wasn't really good at feelings but the least he could do was try. Besides, he did want to know what had happened and he did want to solve this issue.

He heard a shaky breath from beneath the comforter.

"My dad's always had a problem with drinking. He kind of went off the deep end and started... saying shit. About me."

Alastor couldn't keep the edge from his voice as he responded. "And what kind of 'shit' was he saying?"

"It's," he sighed, "it's nothing, Al."

“It’s clearly not nothing if it’s put you in such a state.” His tone sharpened to a razor's edge in an instant. “And I doubt anything out of that drunkards mouth has any meaningful truth to it at all.”

His tone resumed its quiet but flippant tone.

“Tell me whatever bullshit he was spewing and we’ll debunk it all, I can assure you.”

Vincent snorted dismissively. "Should we start with what he's said from birth or just today?" He shifted again with a groan. "Sorry. We... We don't have to, Al. I'll be fine tomorrow. Really."

Alastor breezed past the dismissal with ease. He was not the type to give up so soon. “Let’s start with what’s got you hiding under your comforter. And apologies dear, this isn’t optional.”

Something deep and… annoying within Alastor despised seeing Vincent like this. And it wasn’t irritation or animosity.

It was something much fonder than that.

So why didn’t he just leave?

…because he was going to get Vincent closer to his usual self if it killed him, dammit. He was not meant to be so… sad and slothful. That man was built to be an excited and ambitious entertainer.

Vincent was… a firework. A light reaching for the heavens. Loud, demanding of your attention, and bright.

This. This was not Vincent. And Alastor despised it.

Alastor let the subtle sounds of rustling fabric and heavy breathing go on, waiting for Vincent to contribute.

"Well, the first and most obvious thing, my eyes. I know they're awful, it's nothing new. It's why my producers say to be grateful that media's all in black and white, so no one at home knows. But it's fine. I've accepted it."

Alastor couldn't help his massive eye roll and audible scoff.

“The fact that he had anything negative to say about what is arguably your most captivating physical feature is laughable.”

Truly. What a daft thing to criticize. His eye colors were incredibly unique and absolutely stunning. It was probably his favorite feature of Vincent’s appearance.

Alastor threw one leg over the other as he sat, set to pick apart every ridiculous judgement Vincent quoted.

“So we’ve established that’s nonsensical. What other inane criticisms came from that moron’s mouth?”

Vincent stilled and from the sound of it he choked on his own spit a bit. Suddenly the lump began thrashing as Vincent scrambled from beneath the covers. As soon as his head popped out, he looked with wide eyes and light pink blush. "You think they're my most captivating feature?" He voice was high and cracked at the end, breaking into an adorable little squeak that was quite familiar to Alastor at this point.

Now, in the light, Alastor saw something. Little dots across his face, freckles. His pale complexion made them quite noticeable, even with its current pink tint. How had Alastor never seen them before? They were quite charming, Alastor noted with a soft smile.

Vincent's hair was missing its usual gel or product, now messy and drifting into his freckle-covered face. The low light caught his mismatched eyes rather intriguingly.

He looked... incredible.

"Yes, of course, Vincent. They're incredibly unique and near impossible to look away from at times." He cocked his head to the side. "The freckles are new, though, at least to my eyes. Have you been hiding them with makeup? Is that what you had the brush for?"

Vincent winced and looked back towards the covers with his shoulders up.

"Ah-ah! No hiding under the blankets. Talk. You have a talent for it, so use it."

There was that bashful little smile of his. Vincent was a confident man, more of an egoist at times, and he had no trouble eating up praise and compliments from everyone around him, except for Alastor. Most of the time when Alastor paid him a compliment the man got flushed and shy as if he'd never heard a nice word about him.

The smile disappeared as he spoke, "He also hates the freckles. Always had. Said they looked girly even when I was a kid. I've... been wearing makeup to hide them. He found my foundation and started... yelling and shit about, well, being feminine and girly and... stuff. But like, how did he think they went away!?"

"You're just pointed it out yourself, that man is an idiot. Also, makeup was has been worn by men for centuries. It sounds like your father needs a history lesson. In some cultures it was a symbol of masculinity. Kings used to wear it for Heaven’s sake! And belittling you for your skin… where have I heard that before?"

What he was implying wasn't really the same. The man's hatred for black people didn't compare to his thing against freckles, but it had enough similarities to point out for this conversation, the point being that hating something a person can't control about their physical appearance was asinine.

His eyes scanned the new details of Vincent's face. Fascinating. He could probably count every freckle and be entertained for hours.

Vincent probably blush just brighter if he did. He could imagine him squirming and smiling under the attention...

A game for another day.

Vincent swallowed and scratched at his neck. "I... guess you've got a point."

"Of course I do," Alastor answered without question, earning a fond smile from the man sitting across from him.

"He, uh... he also gave me shit about..." Vincent cringed. "my laugh. I do my best not to let the real one show, especially around him. I had a drink or two. My mom, she's where I got my entertainer side from. She's an absolute hoot. She told a funny story, I laughed and squeaked real loud, and... yeah."

Alastor was going to murder that man...

"If you think having a squeaky soft voice makes you deserving of cruel behavior you must have the smallest ego imaginable."

Alastor's smile was lopsided, deciding to point something out he wasn't sure Vincent noticed.

"Have you ever pieced together why I often laugh when doing this to you?" Alastor lightly wiggled a finger at the rib below Vincent's pit before pulling back, forcefully drawing out a loud and high-pitched squeal. "Because your laugh is infectious, my dear. It's unique and contagious. If your father wishes that to be different he truly is a joyless man."

He raised an eyebrow with a cocky grin.

"You have to realize that if your squeaks or laugh were repulsive I wouldn't be purposefully bringing them out so often. I have no patience for noise I don't care for."

He tilted his head with a smile.

"And darling, we're performers. Every crowd has it hecklers. No matter if they're a stranger, or someone entirely too familiar. That doesn't mean we listen to their pathetic drivel. Why, just the other day someone wrote into my radio show saying I sounded too full of myself. And do you think I paid them any mind? How I sound is something I won't take criticism for, because it's part of who I am."

Vincent's smile was growing wide, brighter, more genuine.

Good. Alastor had never stroked someone's ego so much in one sitting other than his own. This better work or he may never pay a compliment to anyone ever again.

Vincent brought his knees to his chest and buried his chin in them while one hand picked at a loose thread on the comforter.

"But, you, uh... you know what people assume when a man seems, well... a little light in the loafers, right?" He nearly whispered the phrase as if it were cursed.

Alastor furrowed his brow, trying to place where he'd heard that before.

“Oh!" Alastor said loudly once it finally hit him. "You mean they assume we’re homosexual.” He said it as if he were remembering what day it was or reminded what shoes to wear. Completely unimportant and casual.

Vincent visibly winced away.

What a ridiculous thing to be concerned over.

“I’ve gotten that one before on my radio show as well." Alastor rattled off while he quickly fixed a wrinkle in his sleeve. "Apparently a well spoken man who can sing can’t be anything but. Such absurd correlations in people’s minds.” He laughed loudly because it was absurd!

He shook his head but snapped his fingers when he remembered something. “One of Mimzy’s friends is one and he’s an absolute delight. He plays the trumpet for jazz nights at one of the black and tan joints I frequent.”

Vincent looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Alastor raised and eyebrow. "What? Do you have a problem with homosexual men?"

Vincent threw his hands up and sputtered. "No, not at all! Th-they seem like fine people and all!" He quickly hugged his knees and made intense eye contact with his bed. "It's just... you know how most people see them. And, it's not like I've never had a thing for dames before! I've dated a couple. We were happy, courted, fooled around and all that, so I... logically I can't. I can't be. D-Don't know why my dad thinks that."

Alastor's jaw clenched. The idea of Vincent macking on some broad... it made something nasty burn inside.

"Why would we give a shit about how most people see anything? Last I checked most people also hate serial killers and, in case you forgot, that's what we are. Also, if 'God' made two sexes, then why the Hell would he be upset if a person was able to enjoy both? AND if that 'God' is upset, why should we care, Vincent? Where we're going after death is as far as 'God' as you can get." Alastor had begun angrily rambling towards the end. Vincent sat back with wide eyes. He didn't look frightened, more like he was trying to process.

"...Having feelings for both sexes is a thing people can do?"

Of course that's what he took away from it.

"I don't see why not. Feelings never do follow the rules, do they?"

Another silence fell over the room and Alastor watched as Vincent muddled over his words as if he were disentangling some deeply held beliefs of his.

"I guess it doesn't really matter. No one would really like the true me enough to have a steady relationship with me. I'm... I'm fine with that."

He sounded anything but fine with it.

"You shouldn't generalize and say 'no one' wouldn't like you. I've enjoyed having you around enough to have a steady relationship with you, haven't I? Though as to the specific nature of our relationship... I don't believe any one word could sum it up."

Alastor chuckled and looked up towards the ceiling.

"What word could possibly describe us? Our murders, our form of play..." Alastor wiggled his fingers. "Having extended periods of living at your house together more often than living alone as we do on paper. And now here I am coaching you down after a particularly nasty family visit. That doesn't sound like typical coworkers does it? Or even friends, if I'm being honest. I don't think there's anyone like us, dear."

His smile was wide and genuine. "As unique as your eyes. Imagine a world so drab that anything abnormal was to be avoided... Not one I'd care to exist in, I can assure you."

Vincent's mouth hung in a slight 'o' shape as his face steadily warmed to a vibrant pink. Even his ears were touched by that obvious warmth. Precious.

"I... I also like having you around." He stammered rather bashfully.

That was rather obvious but not unpleasant to hear.

"Anything else we need to touch on, Vincent?"

He looked to be thinking for a moment before cringing and hugging his middle. He hesitated, but Alastor beat him to any excuse.

"Now I know there's something. Spill. Let's nip it in the bud."

Vincent sighed, hugging himself tighter. "My dad pointed out how I... I let myself go."

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows. What was he talking about?

"Let yourself go?" He asked confusedly.

Vincent's face curled tighter into a grimace. "Come on, Al, my weight. Talked about how its obvious I'm letting myself get fat. Disgusting."

Alastor's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Vincent jolted with wide eyes.

"Vincent, in no world are you fat and even if you were that's an absolutely ridiculous thing to criticize."

"I-I've definitely gotten fat, Al."

Alastor shoved a finger in Vincent's face. "No. I'm going to stop you. You've spent years feeding yourself very little and regularly pushing your body to its limits so you had large defined muscles but dangerously low body fat. The past couple of months you've been eating real hearty meals. So your body is packing on fat while also building your musculature at an accelerated rate. Yes, you've gained weight. Yes, some of that weight is fat. But you are not fat. You're broad. Your arms, thighs, and chest are thick with heavy muscle and a small layer of bodyfat. Your gut," Alastor poked his finger into Vincent's slightly softer stomach, "still has those same abs as before, likely even larger than they were, but you can't see them anymore because you have actual healthy padding there you didn't have previously. It's healthy. It's normal."

Vincent's expression was awash in awe and flattery and soaked in disbelief. "You... you don't think I'm fat... or gross?"

"Have I ever given you any impression that I did?" He spoke loudly as if he were personally offended. "You're more capable than ever, able to run much longer without getting winded and perform even larger feats of strength. You are a wall of muscle with some soft HEALTHY padding. I don't think there's such a thing as a more attractive figure." As soon as the words left Alastor's mouth he flushed a burning red and sputtered to cover himself. "B-by most people standards! Hollywood loves muscular bodies, and... now you look well-nourished and cared for rather than sustaining yourself by sheer will alone."

Vincent's face was a red equal to Alastor's own. There was an uncomfortable silence before Alastor cleared his throat. "So, yes, ignore what your father said. Your... figure is fine. If you're worried about your clothes fitting improperly or showing off your gut more prominently you simply need a good tailor. One of Mimzy's friends is a natural with a sewing needle and can make any of your suits fit your new look."

Vincent laughed a little awkwardly but relaxed his body from its tense self-hug. "Um... thanks, Al. I really appreciate all this." He shrugged. "Sorry if I, uh, kept you away from anything with my... breakdown."

His blush was much more vibrant without his makeup to hide it. Mixed with his freckles... it was not a bad sight. Not at all.

Alastor stared at Vincent's flushed complexion with a soft smile. He should leave the makeup off more often. His eyes observed every detail, making note of every little cluster of freckles, and how they framed his features.

Pink surrounding the blue and green irises... A veritable rainbow of Vincent.

"You'll just have to make up for it later. Not giving me a call back? Unforgivable." Alastor's smile was teasing and lopsided, a clear indication of play. "I'm thinking... a minute at your underarms to start with. And you'll have to keep count of the seconds for me. I know you love helping out with that. You can count backwards from 60 can't you?"

Alastor chuckled at the immediate shift in demeanor from Vincent. A nervous giddy smile plastered itself across his face and he ducked down as he backed up against the headboard. "W-Wahahait! Ahal! I-It's been a long day! I don't know if I can handle that! 60 seconds that I have to count? You're gonna kill meeehehehe!"

This was much more welcome, oh Alastor was definitely going down this route.

"Then how about this. I'll make you laugh now, here. And I'll make you laugh at my house tomorrow. Your amount of required seconds is 60. You may choose however many of them to do today right now, BUT the remaining total of seconds will be fulfilled tomorrow, doubled."

He loomed over Vincent, fingers twitching eagerly.

"Meaning you could, if you want, only do 10 seconds tonight. But that would leave 50 left. And it would be doubled for tomorrow. So 100 seconds. Or, be brave, and do more tonight so you have less to deal with tomorrow. It's your choice."

Vincent clenched his arms close to his sides to cover his pits. "C-Come on. You know I couldn't have called you right? The phone was in the other room! A-And I was so good, I told you, uh, most of my insecurities in our weird little therapy session. Surely you can spare me a little? Th-thihis ihis cruel and unusual!"

Oh he was enjoying that unrestricted blush of Vincent's. His gaze tightened on it. He needed to see this again. Maybe he could get Vincent to only wear makeup when he left the house... so that he alone go to see this entrancing sight.

"I applaud you for your bravery telling me these things. But you did just point out there were some things you didn't tell me. 'Most insecurities'? For not letting me in on everything, this is your punishment. And, darling, cruel would be tying you up and clawing at your pits while I listen to a radio show for half an hour. One to two minutes is quite merciful in comparison don't you think?"

He let his fingers slowly crawl up the blankets toward Vincent's ribs to just baaaarely poke at the hyper-sensitive nerves.

"Make your choice or I'll make it for you. I could be so gentle and nice and make you only endure 1 second... though that would be leaving you nearly two minutes straight tomorrow. I'm giving you a chance to change that."

He was squirming and beaming, obviously fighting back a giggle fit. "I-I don't know how much I can take. M-Maybe I just count until I can't anymore. And the remainder is doubled for tomorrow?"

Al retrieved his hands and tapped his chin in a display of thoughtfulness.

“Hm… I suppose I could grant you that privilege. But you get no restraints. And the moment your arms come down, that’s it. You’ve locked in your time. Doesn’t matter if you only last a few seconds. Do you understand?”

He grinned and his eyes narrowed.

“Now arms up.”

A stern command with no room for debate. His stare enforced it without question.

Vincent obeyed the command without a moment's hesitation, arms shooting up and banging against the headboard. Alastor sat himself beside Vincent, toeing off his shoes before putting his legs on the bed (he had standards). He sat on his knees next to Vincent's ribcage with full access to all his spots.

Vincent playfully scoffed whilst wriggling slightly with nerves. "Thought I was supposed to get nice presents on my birthday."

Ah, yes. Vincent's 34th birthday was today. That had been one of the reasons that added to his concern. Alastor himself didn't really care for birthdays, but Vincent did. So for him to not even talk to Alastor or suggest something to do to celebrate was strange.

"Would 34 minutes of me playing with your sides be a sufficiently nice present? To celebrate another year and all that? I could put on one of my favorite radio shows and listen while I do that. Who knows? Maybe your squeaks will enhance the listening experience."

Even if Alastor didn't give a damn about birthdays, he supposed he could entertain Vincent's to keep him in good spirits. Perhaps the idea of a yearly event to look forward to wasn't that silly.

One of his favorite stations usually broadcasted mystery story narration at this time. The combination of that with Vincent's tittering sounded delightfully pleasant.

Vincent's eyebrows shot up. Alastor couldn't blame him. It was an unusually kind and gentle suggestion from him.

"O-Oh! Um... that'd be nice." He smiled bashfully while he spoke with a delightful pink flush. "You sure?"

"Well... let's see how you do with our little challenge."

Alastor had already decided he'd do it, but that vague statement would push Vincent even further to endure as much as he could.

Alastor began unbuttoning Vincent's shirt and opened it up wide to reveal his bare underarms. He positioned his wiggling claws at the hollows, making Vincent wriggle and grin nervously.

"Now start counting. The moment you say 'one', it will begin. Best prepare yourself my dear..."

The paler man lightly kicked his feet and winced away, his arms jerking down partially as he giggled nervously. "St-stop wihigglling them ihit makes it harder to start!"

His fingers were just hovering right above the skin, twitching and wriggling so close Alastor was sure he could feel it as a phantom touch.

"Go on, dear. Nothing's stopping you."

Vincent squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. "O-One-"

The very instant the word escaped Vincent's mouth, Al's index fingers were poking and jabbing at his armpits like he was typing on a busted type writer.

"EEEEK!" Vincent squealed and threw his head back as he howled with laughter. "T-TWOHOHO! AHA! TH-THREEHEHEHEHEEEE- OHO GOHOD! FOHOHOUR!" He thrashed side to side and his arms shook with the immense effort it took to keep them up.

"There you go. Do keep up a steady pace. If you try and speed through it, I'll make you start over. Proper seconds." Alastor's voice was a gentle coo laced with amusement. They both needed a little frivolity after today.

It had been less than a week since he'd heard it, but it was still too long. That laugh of his never failed to fill Alastor with that warm tingly feeling of contagious mirth. He could already feel giggles bubbling up in his belly at the mere sound of Vincent's squeaky laughter.

"FIHIHIVE- EEP- SIHIHIX! FUCK- SEHEHEHEHEVEHEHEN! EEHEHEIGHT! NIHI- AIIE- NIHIHIHINE! T-T-TEHEHEHEN!"

"Keep going! You're a sixth of the way there. If you manage to make it to thirty that would be impressive, Hm... but you are far too sensitive... I doubt you could."

It was an obvious bait, but he knew it would get under Vincent's skin. Whether he did it or not, his reaction would be worth the taunt.

His voice dropped to a purr. "Aw, is it too much? Are you laughing too hard to think?" He jabbed his thumbs into the hollows and firmly massaged the muscle as he had learned drove Vincent up the wall.

"AIIIIEE- YOHOHOU AHAHAHASS! ELEHEHEHEVEN! TWEHEHEHELVE! AHAHAHAHA! TH-THIRTEHEHEHEHEN! F-FOURTEHEHEHEEN! EEHAHAHAHA! FIFTEHEHEHEEN!"

"One quarter of the way there. Ooh, still so much to go!" Alastor couldn't keep the giggles from his voice anymore. The hilarious melody of Vincent's laughter coupled with his adorable squirming and kicking and wriggling was just too amusing to smother the laughter brewing inside.

"SIHIHIXTEEHEHEHEEN! EEE! SEHEHEHEVENTEEHEHEHEEN! EHEHEIGHTEEHEHEHEN! N-NIHIHIHINETEHEHEHEEN! T-TWEHEHEHEHENTY!"

Alastor eyed the bit of muscle between the chest and the armpit, the pectoralis minor was the name if he remembered correctly. He gripped it with his index finger and thumb, and squeezed.

"AIEIEEE- STAHAHAHAP!" Vincent pretty much screamed in laughter and his arms slammed down. He curled up as much as he could as helpless cackling poured out of him with eyes screwed shut.

Alastor let out a light chuckle and completely stilled his hands. "I think we found a more precise weak spot of yours. That was quite the reaction!"

"Thahahahat tihihickled sohoho bahahahad." He whined through giggles.

"You made that quite clear." Alastor stood up and fetched the radio from the other room, placing it on the dresser and turning it on to that mystery narration station at a quiet volume. He then climbed back onto the bed and laid down.

"Alright. Lay down so I can get your sides."

He blinked owlishly. "W-What?"

"I did say I'd play with your preferred spot for 34 minutes for your birthday, did I not?"

"But I didn't make it to thirty. You said-"

"All I said was 'let's see'. I did not state that your performance would affect your birthday present. Now. Lay beside me. The next story is starting."

Alastor smirked. His wording did exactly what he intended it to. Vincent was too easy.

Heavens, he looked so red. It was unfairly captivating. Alastor didn't think he could look away if he wanted.

"Now come here. If you wait any longer I may change my miiiind~" Alastor sang the last word with a cocky grin, his fingers wiggling the slightest bit.

Vincent beamed and laid beside him, their bodies lightly squished together.

"Now for tonight's story, Mayhem at the Manor!"

The radio spoke softly of the new story. The dramatic background music was soon joined by delightfully adorable giggling as Alastor gently danced his fingers up and down Vincent's bare sides, his shirt still unbuttoned and opened.

Alastor was smiling ear-to-ear, feeling Vincent's torso jerk and quiver under his touch, but not make any move to escape the ticklish sensations. Why would he? He's said it himself. It was his favorite spot to be tickled.

Alastor's mind drifted from the story to the tickling, back and forth. The narrative followed a basic murder mystery formula of a victim at a dinner party full of strangers and an investigator figuring out the culprit. A predictable formula, but an entertaining one. The narrator was a skilled storyteller and the music and sound effects were well-done as well.

He turned his head to watch Vincent. He looked so utterly happy. His smile was massive and bright as a star, his eyes crinkled and half-closed, and hair messily clinging to his forehead. His freckles were seemingly more vibrant upon flushed-pink skin, and just the smallest hint of his blue and green irises could be seen.

There was no other word for it. Vincent was just plain adorable.

Some time passed. The manor mystery story began wrapping up, the story clearly reaching the climactic reveal scene before going to commercial.

As some advertisement rattled on about instant coffee, Alastor looked down at the giggling happy man beside him.

"Vincent..." He purred. "You mentioned that you left some things out earlier. Some insecurities. I think you should share those with me. And maybe if you do, I'll consider whittling down the 80 seconds punishment still waiting for you tomorrow."

He lifted a hand to brush aside some of the hair over Vincent's face.

"You know how I don't like being left out of the loop."

Vincent peeked his eyes open at him, still giggling happily and dazedly. He didn't look fully there, more like he was floating in his little happy place and just checking in on reality.

"Mmmm Fihine. Buhut yohou cant hate me 'cause you asked."

"Unless your insecurity is that you gave evidence of our crimes to the police I doubt anything you have to tell me would sway me much. I'm not easily convinced to let someone be this close. And I'm much more hesitant to let them leave." Alastor wiggled a finger at his pit at the last word and snickered at the resulting squeal before resuming the gentle side tickles.

The commercial break was still playing, now going on about cigarettes. Despite them being the norm, Alastor had never developed much of a taste for them, only using them once or twice when he really needed to take the edge off.

Honestly did Vincent really take him for someone so wishy-washy in their relationships? It would take a lot for Alastor to abandon him at this point.

And not JUST because he knew about his illegal activities, though that certainly was a factor.

"My dad was right about one thing," Vincent began. "I have carried a torch for fellas in the past. For dames as well, but that's not the point."

Alastor had a feeling that was true after their little chat. He seemed to be very personally moved by Alastor assuring him being attracted to both men and women was not impossible.

Alastor lightly circled his sides, eliciting more squeaky laughter. Vincent looked like he was hesitating to finish his thought, maybe if he went deeper into his happy place he'd lose his hesitation.

"Fohohor ahahas lohohong ahas I've knoohohown you, I've beheheheen keen ohon you."

Alastor's eyes widened and his face warmed. Sure, he had a passing suspicion or two but it had just seemed so unlikely.

He stilled his fingers but Vincent kept going. Now that he had ripped off the bandage he seemed ready to air it all out.

"You have a stupidly pretty face. Unfairly pretty. Your smile, your laugh, everything about you." He not-so-subtly hid his face in his hands. "Puppy love and shit. I want to hold your hand, tickle you, and kiss your cute face over and over again." He threw his hands down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "It's embarrassing how stuck I am on you when you're just my business partner."

...That damned feeling again.

Butterflies.

Until tonight Alastor hadn't seriously considered something like this. He hadn't necessarily been opposed, God knows his brain had been wandering if he let it, but romance has never a genuine option for him, at least in his mind.

Gazing at his blushing freckled face and shy smile, how his eyes looked up at Al like he had the answers to his future in his pupils.

Was that what attraction was like? Alastor wasn't sure.

He's heard plenty sing his praises before. He's had his fair share of fans of either gender go on and on about his voice, his singing, his talent, his appearance. He always appreciated a good stroking of his ego, but this was different. It meant more, felt more real from Vincent.

The idea of 'puppy love' was something he would've scoffed at mere days ago.

But now it was something he was very much considering. Something deep inside him even seemed eager at the possibility. Months of memories started flooding to his brain, all centered around feelings he had been blatantly ignoring.

His smile was nothing but adoring looking at Vincent.

"Dear, this would never in a million years have me abandoning you."

Al placed his hands on either side of Vincent's face. He could feel the heat of his flush under his palms.

"I... don't know enough about romance to confidently say what exactly I feel towards you, but... this is not unwelcome. And I can guarantee this with the certainty of the stars and the Earth itself... we are not 'just' business partners."

His smile lobbed a bit to the side in a smirk.

"How about you help me figure out if our feelings match. Describe what it is that has you certain it's puppy love. So far I have that you like my appearance, specifically my smile, laugh, and face. I also like yours as well. I think holding your hand would be nice. And... what was that last one?"

He knew exactly what he had said but he wanted to get him to repeat it.

Now that the idea was in Alastor's head, he was quite interested.

Vincent rolled on his side so the two were laying facing each other.

"God-" He huffed, avoiding eye contact, his smile utterly sappy. "My rant makes me sound like I just like you for your looks, that's not the case, I promise you, forgive me for fueling your ego with my sappiness, even though I know you love when I feed into it."

"Go on, then." Alastor teased which Vincent just smiled bigger at.

"You're... You're inspiring, really! Your performances are incredible. Your confidence and poise even when things get sticky... Smiling no matter what. You seem unshakable, on top of the world, a beacon of power and entertainment everyone deserves to see and admire.

"You inspire me to keep going. Even if you hadn't come today... I would've dusted myself off and faced tomorrow with a smile, because it's what you would've done. You resilience... it's one of my favorite qualities of yours.

"My loyalty to you is unbreakable... You're already aware I don't really believe in an afterlife, but if the whole Hell thing turns out real like you always insist I will absolutely follow you there. I'd walk straight into the inferno proudly if you were inside."

"I think about you constantly and it always makes me smile. Your face, your jokes, you stories, your cooking, God, I could go on and on, Al."

He looked up with a shy grin. "So, yeah, I'd like to kiss you, but I'd also be happy just... being there beside you, as long as you'll have me... preferably forever." He chuckled. "I'll always be here to support you, go on hunts with you, make you snort and giggle," He squeezed Alastor's side, eliciting the exact sounds listed. "Whatever you want."

He sighed. "Don't force yourself to return my feelings if you don't okay. As long as I'm beside you, I'm happy."

Alastor would be lying if he claimed he didn't enjoy the showering of compliments and adoration he was receiving. His expression was soft and happy, was this what being 'smitten' was like?

Alastor's hands were still cupping Vincent's face. He gently brushed his thumbs over those still warm cheeks.

Vincent had been immensely vulnerable with him. And with Alastor quite interested in further development of his relationship, he decided it was only fair he let down his walls a bit too.

"I've always thought romance as... ridiculous. To be that close, say such inane niceties... Obviously I have friends, but even with Mimzy I maintain a certain level of separation with. It was comfortable for me, to be so isolated and distant from everyone. It felt safe and orderly.

"And yet here you are. You know me on such a deeply personal level and it doesn't repulse me. Matter of fact, it feels... nice. It's nice to be known and... cared for."

Alastor sighed, letting a brief period of comfortable silence fill the space before speaking again.

"Do you remember how we met? At that party downtown all those years ago? Some get together for those in the entertainment scene in New Orleans. You came up to me, already having heard my radio show, and introduced yourself. And I looked at you and thought..."

Alastor leaned in close before smirking.

"Not another white man."

"Hey," Vincent playfully chastised. Alastor meanwhile broke into a few giggles and snorted. His hand retracted to lightly cover his smile with the back of his wrist, despite the fact that he fully felt comfortable letting out his real laugh. His messy unprofessional laugh. The laugh Vincent had practically waxed poetry about.

He leaned back with a smile blending teasing and fondness.

"I know that's probably not what you want to hear. But it highlights something important. This bond of ours took time. It took trust. It's something that grew slowly over the years into something that I... That I would be upset to lose."

Alastor rolled his eyes with a cheesy smile. "And I suppose if you stroked my ego I could stroke yours as well. Those pretty eyes of yours are practically begging for it."

He chuckled at Vincent's wide-eyed but overjoyed look and brushed some of his hair from his face.

"I feel I already touched on your appearance. It is far more than adequate." His voice dropped an octave on that last sentence before resuming its usual tone. "Your eagerness, your joy, your readiness to perform and take the spotlight, your humor... you're endlessly entertaining, darling. Never a dull moment with this one around is there?" Alastor tapped his nose before resting his hands on the bed between them.

"My life is delightfully unpredictable now with you in it. A little chaos to my order. Who knew I'd become so addicted to it?"

He watched Vincent's eyes. He could get lost in those colors. It wasn't just different base colors. The lightly reflected off each iris differently. He could waste hours analyzing each detail.

"I've never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. I don't have the words to describe it. Because romance has never been even a consideration for me, I don't know what to compare us too."

He held Vincent's hand in his.

"But I know the following. I care about your safety and your happiness. I want you close to me. I'm happy when you're around. And when we have to be apart for some time, it hurts. Oh, and also..."

Now it was time to really jump in the deep end. Judging by Vincent's confession he'd probably respond positively to this little curiosity Alastor had had a couple times before.

Alastor closed in so their noses were almost touching. "I would like to try kissing you right now."

Vincent's eyes blew to the size of saucers. He squeaked and nodded. "S-sure!"

Alastor moved in a bit closer but hesitated, having quite literally 0 experience. Vincent seemed to be happy to take over and slowly closed the gap. Alastor's lips pressed against his. Satisfying and intimate, but Alastor wasn't quite sure what the fuss was about.

Vincent huffed a laugh with a light smile before moving his lips and,

Oh.

Oh that felt nice.

Their lips pressed and moved against each other gently in a sort of back-and-forth, give-and-take motion with Vincent leading him through it.

He sighed happily into the feeling. He felt so... warm. Warm and tingly.

After a moment, Alastor pulled back with just the slightest smack of lips signaling their departure. Vincent opened his eyes and Alastor could swear he saw sparkles in his mismatched irises.

"That was... satisfying." Alastor said, flushed from the kiss and from the embarrassment of admitting such a thing, though he knew it was important for this conversation.

Vincent chuckled. "I'm glad. I enjoyed it too." He picked at a loose thread on the comforter and spoke again.

"So... as you've said, we're not 'just business partners'. What are we, do you think?"

Alastor hummed for a moment, mulling it over. "Partners. Just drop the business part. For life and beyond, I would you like you to be mine, and as long as you're mine, I will be yours. Whatever that means to us."

Vincent's eyes were wide and shiny, his smile so soft and happy. "Yeah. I like that. Partners."

"And just so you know," Alastor's tone sharpened a noticeable amount, "this level of closeness is for us and us alone. You are not to share this level of intimacy or the details of your relationship with anyone. Understood?"

Vincent squeaked and nodded. "Yep! No problem!"

"I'm glad we understand one another." Alastor leaned back just a bit with a fond grin, hands coming to rest on the blanket between them.

They stayed there for a moment, just... enjoying the new frontier of their relationship. Alastor quirked an eyebrow when he saw Vincent give a little smirk.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked fondly.

"Just wondering how much 'confessing my undying love and starting a courtship' is worth in terms of taking off the seconds for my scheduled execution tomorrow."

He quickly darted his fingers to Alastor's sides, making him flinch with a giggle.

"Because... If it's still a stupidly high number, I have ways to convince you otherwise!" His grin was playful and silly, showing nothing of the heartache he had endured earlier, thank the heavens. He leaned in and began peppering tiny quick kisses over Alastor's cheeks.

The darker man yipped in surprise and all but melted into the silly gesture. His smile was ear-to-ear as he snickered at the loving kisses pressed to his cheeks. He wasn't used to so much affection but he was certain he would be happy for this to be a regular occurrence.

He hadn't really felt any sort of physical affection in decades until this whole tickling thing started with Vincent. Unfortunately for his pride, he was really enjoying being showered with love and attention.

He chuckled. "As sweet as this is, you're not worming your way out of that one, darling."

The light playful kisses moved downwards to his neck. He gasped before breaking into giggles, he knew Vincent targeted his throat because he was highly ticklish there. The speed and softness of the little pecks were murder on his nerves, he couldn't help but squirm and giggle.

And then he heard an inhale...

"Vihihincehent, dohon't you daHAHAHAHAHAHARE- SNRK!" That ridiculous sounding raspberry tickled like the dickens, sending him into near immediate hysterics.

"Theeeeere he is!" Vincent cooed loudly, his fingers quickly dancing over his sides and belly to keep Alastor laughing and snorting. "My snorty little piggy!"

Alastor, for once, felt completely fine with letting himself be tickled, as opposed to his usual clash of pride and secret enjoyment. He knew Vincent knew, and he no longer felt the need to try and recover the secret he'd never get back. The vulnerability of the long conversation was hard, but now he felt like so much between them was new and open to explore. Vincent shifted to straddle his waist and Alastor let him, rolling on his back as he allowed himself laugh without restraint.

"Cahahall mehehe thahahahat ihihin puhuhublic ahahand yohohou're DEAD!"

Vincent halted his fingers to tease without distraction.

"I'm not an idiot, Al. I know. But thanks for confirming you're okay with me calling you that in private, my little piggy."

Alastor flushed and narrowed his eyes. "Careful what you say, my dear squeaky toy. Or should I start pushing your buttons and see how high your voice goes this time?"

Vincent grinned something more familiar to his everyday demeanor, something teasing and plotting. "Guess I won't say anything, then. I'll just-" He dove back in and blew another raspberry on the side of his neck while his fingers fluttered and skittered over his quaking belly.

"AHA! SNRK! VIHIHHA- SNRK! EHEHAHA!" Alastor erupted into stupidly happy laughter, thrashing only by instinct while he cackled and snorted to his heart's content.

"All you gotta do is reduce the timer for tomorrow," Vincent spoke and hummed into Alastor's neck which was still unfortunately very ticklish, "Or at least give me save states. I'll just keep tickle-tickle-tickling you until you agree!"

"N-Nehehehever!" Alastor shouted playfully, knowing where it'd lead.

"Oh, you really do want to be tickled, don't you piglet? Well I'd be happy to! Coochie coochie coo!" He ended his childish cooing with an even longer raspberry, sending Alastor further into hysteria.

"AHAHAHA! SNRK! ST-SNRK-STOHOHOP TAHAHALKING LIHIKE THAHAHAT!"

Vincent giggled into his neck, making Alastor squeal. "I keep forgetting just how bad baby talk gets you. Adorable."

Indeed, baby talk was deeply embarrassing which somehow leant itself to the ticklish feeling. Alastor wouldn't be shocked if Vincent could feel the heat of his blush down his neck and onto the man's lips.

Christ, the vibrations on his neck tickled so much more than they had any right to!

"Can't even handle a few ticklish raspberries, can you? All that sadistic cruelty and deadly ability inside a giggly little baby doll, dawwww!"

Alastor's eyes shot open at the nickname as heat crept over his ears and across his collarbone.

Butterflies. The damn butterflies swarmed in his belly.

Babydoll?!

If Vincent said that in public he'd slit his throat. Well, maybe not, but he'd certainly threaten it.

But here?

Vincent's cooing babyish teases were flustering and embarrassing, sure, but... that was part of the fun of these little games. Even though they drove Alastor insane.

This was part of their play. The teasing and the taunting. It was part of the fun to let Vincent get under his skin, just as he reveled getting under Vincent's.

And the man thought of him as anything other than a frail little doll to take care of, like most husbands thought about their wives when they said these things. He'd just gone on and on mere minutes ago about how much he admired and looked up to him.

The nickname was affection and teasing, nothing more.

The fact that Alastor didn't immediately clock him over the head would send all the signal that Vincent needed to know that he didn't despise it.

"Shuhut thehe HEHEHELL uhuhup, Squeheheaks!" He sputtered through frantic giggling, firing back with a new (and more accurate) nickname towards his partner.

Vincent leaned back to make eye contact, smirking with immense satisfaction.

"If you don't relent and give me something to help out with my penalty tomorrow... I'm gonna..." He trailed off, looking over Alastor's body with a hum. Alastor simply laid there catching his breath, curious to see where it'd go.

"I'll... tickle your feet! I'll tickle them and get all your cute little oinks." Vincent leaned down and nuzzled Alastor's face, who playfully chomped the air next to him with a snarl. Vincent was unfazed, still beaming as he continued. "So, you hungry for more tickles or do you promise to give me save points?"

Alastor breathed deeply as his foot twitched the slightest bit. He knew for a fact his feet were terribly ticklish, to the point that washing them when bathing was a bit of a chore. A simple rag running over his sole tickled like Hell, but as it was him doing it it never made him laugh, just cringe and flinch.

The worst kind of ticklish, in Alastor's book.

Hm...

Oh, what the Hell? He had more laughter in him.

He smirked.

"You want save points? Earn them."

His eyes were narrow, taunting him. They said one thing and one thing only.

Make me.

Vincent's expression was dripping in adoration and excitement. He brought a hand up to brush over Alastor's cheek who hummed happily beneath the touch.

Oh, Alastor was really starting to grow attached to this physical affection thing.

He hadn't been touched this much since he was a child. It felt so comforting and safe, full of love and care that warmed him to his core.

"What's your mood, then, handsome? Free range to thrash or do you want a little help to keep from fighting?" Vincent glanced down at his belt.

His eyes followed to the item. They were no strangers to using it to keep Vincent's hands up so Alastor could torment his favorite spot of his.

Though they'd just been quite vulnerable with each other, Alastor didn't think he'd ever be the type to volunteer to being restrained. So he spun his words carefully. Taunting, but clearly suggesting what Vincent was already contemplating.

He gazed up through half-lidded eyes.

"I'm going to need some convincing before I even consider giving you any leeway." He cocked his head to the side. "Think you're even capable of that? I'm not easily held back, as you know."

A scream from the radio startled both of them. Ah, yes. They had tuned out that radio show Alastor had put on hadn't they?

"And turn that off. The killer is obviously the cook anyway, I don't need to hear the end."

"Such confidence from a cute piggy." One last kiss to Alastor's cheek, before Vincent pulled himself off the bed, letting Al's arms be free for a moment to situate himself.

"I've been thinking it's the gardener," Vincent commented as he fiddled with the radio, shuffling some stuff around on the desk as he did so.

"The gardener was the victim." Alastor chuckled. He clearly hadn't been listening, too far away in his happy place from having his sides played with. "Killed by a fall, thought to be suicide, though obviously it was the cook who pushed him after luring him up there as hinted in the beginning when it mentioned the dish he was making was the gardener's favorite. Child's play."

"Okay, smartass." Vincent snorted.

Alastor lightly rubbed the sole of one foot with the other as his nerves set in.

Oh, lord this was going to tickle so bad.

Vincent approached the bed and began unbuckling his belt.

"Do you want your arms behind your back or to be connected to the bed frame? Also, maybe... take off your shirt? If you want?"

Vincent was the least subtle person in the world when it came to Alastor.

The smaller man raised an eyebrow as he slid off his vest and his button-up. "Figures you need all the help you can get." His smile and tone were nothing but playful. "And be my guest, do whatever you think will help you win this little battle." He shot a sharp glance at Vincent. "Because you're not getting any mercy from me tomorrow, no matter what you try tonight."

It was bait. Obvious glaring bait.

He offered a big long stretch, his arms straining above his head for a moment and showing off his torso that had always seemed to catch Vincent's eyes before. His gaze focused on Vincent's face, scanning his reaction.

The man was practically drooling over the sight in front of him, eyes wide and face red. He had never been shirtless in front of him before and, as obvious Vincent's reaction, it was not due to lack of eagerness on Vincent's part.

"Do you plan to bore to me into submission?" Alastor teased. Vincent startled as if his mind had been completely gone from the room before clearing his throat and getting to work with the belt binding. He looped it through the nearest bed post and clicked it firmly around Alastor's wrists.

"That okay? Not too tight?"

"I'm quite alright," Alastor assured him as he tugged experimentally on his arms. "You're rather familiar with being bound so I guess you're a natural on the other side as well."

Vincent snickered. "You love being a little brat don't you?"

"Guilty." Alastor shrugged.

Vincent went and sat himself on Alastor's shins, facing his feet. He carefully began peeling off his socks and Alastor shivered in anticipation.

Once his feet were bare and his stomach was in knots, he heard a quiet click.

"Tell me, Al, does this tickle at all? Or is it too rough?"

Then, a gentle pointy little sensation on the ball of his foot.

Oh, Heavens that was ticklish-

"PfffftAHAahaha! Snrk! Ohohokay- SNRK! OHOHO- SNRK- OHOKAHAHAY!"

Alastor tossed and flinched and jerked. His toes curled and flexed.

That tickled. That tickled a LOT. What the Hell was that? Pointy but gentle? Why on Earth did whatever that was tickle so much?!

"Tickles that bad already, huh? You're so cute. Try to guess what I'm tickling you with, doll!"

That ticklish point danced over his sole, but only in specific parts. Something plastic and thin?

It was really hard to try and figure it out when he was laughing himself silly.

Wait, Vincent dragged it in a little pattern, was that a heart shape?

"SNRK! AHAHA PEHEHEHEN! SNRK! PEHEHEN! WHAHAHAT THEHE- SNRK- HEHEHELL AHAHARE YOHOHOU WRIHIHITING!?!"

Knowing Vincent it was probably something embarrassing. Pen ink was a monster to clean off and his feet were horribly sensitive even to his own touch.

Ohhhh Vincent was going to pay for this...

"Ding ding! You got it right!" He happily waved the tool in the air, a simple black ballpoint pen with the logo from his TV network on the casing. "Got this baby as a promotion gift after we murdered the News Caster! Some benefits, huh? I saw it on my desk next to the radio and just had to try."

Alastor panted like he had just gone running once that cursed trinket left his foot. He had been laughing so hard that even that brief period had him slightly breathless. His soles were practically aching from the leftover tingling.

That pen went right back to its job of writing and doodling over the sole of Alastor's feet, leaving him a cackling snorting mess.

"It's definitely doing the trick judging by your adorable laughter. And what's the fun of telling you what I'm writing? Don't you wanna guess?"

Alastor could, if he tried, probably hazard a few guesses as to what Vincent had wrote, not that he really wanted to.

Once the pen stilled and Alastor regained some coherency, he spoke again. "I know you wrote something," a deep tired breath, "just to embarrass me, you little imp. I refuse to guess."

Vincent shrugged, unbothered. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see what it is later. Doesn't that sound like fun?" He didn't give him a chance to answer before going back to his doodling, sending Alastor thrashing and laughing his heart out.

"Goochie goochie goooo! Tickle tickle!"

The cooing was immediately met with kicking and bucking.

“DOHON’T YOHOHOU DAHAHARE!” He yelled through his laughter. His words were mortifying… and Alastor’s temper made it abundantly clear.

"Aww, ticklish little thing. Think I should switch to the other foot, or can this lovely canvas of mine handle a few more doodles?"

“Ihihi cahahan hahahandle ahahahanything. Juhuhust shuhuhut UHUHUP!” Alastor immediately answered his question with his usual bravado, not thinking it through at all.

"Awwww, I'm sure you can!" He cooed as his pen touched down against the untouched space just beneath Alastor's toes. The new spot shot his laughter up an octave. Not up to Vincent's usual range but definitely higher than what was normal for Alastor.

"Ooh, little piggy squeals!" Vincent giggled smugly and then brought the pen to the other foot, quickly making use of the unmarked space at a maddeningly fast pace.

"Immensely brave, these ticklish feet, working so hard to handle simple pen strokes. Is my ticklish piggy brave? Yes you are! Tickle tickle tickle! Cootchie cootchie coo~"

Alastor was properly hysteric now, and the baby talk certainly wasn't helping. He was thrashing, snorting, and rapidly switching between cackles and screams.

"SHUHU -SNRK- SHUHUT UHUHUP! YOHOHOHOU -SNRK- AHA! NOHOHO! SNRK! DAHAHAMMIT! -HIC- PFFTAHA! SNRK! VI-VIHIHINCEHEHENT! SNRK!"

Then, through gritted teeth, words escaped him.

"NOHO MOHOHORE PEHEHEN! PL- PFFTAHAHA!"

He got very close to what could be considered begging.

The pen wasn't even the most ticklish tool he'd endured (It was still pretty damn bad), it's just that it was murder on his sensitive nerves down there in a way feathers and brushes weren't. His soles were always horribly sensitive and the pointiness of the pen was pushing him to the brink of insanity.

And he was not looking forward to cleaning it off.

The pen soon clicked, signaling the retreat of that horribly ticklish point.

"Alright, alright. I was running out of canvas, anyways." Alastor relaxed, panting deeply and he scrunched and unscrunched his foot. Fuck he could still feel it. Phantom sensations.

Sensations which were quickly renewed as Vincent replaced the pen with his gentle fluttering fingers.

"SNRK! Ehehehe- snrk! Pffteheh- SNRK! AHAHA!"

Shit, his feet needed a break. Thankfully Vincent seemed to have forgotten about 'making' him give him breaks tomorrow and was happy to just do as requested.

Hopefully he'll continue to forget that aspect. Then he can tickle him the full 80 seconds tomorrow. Delicious torture for him...

"D-DAHAHAMIT! SNRK! SOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHELSE!"

"Somewhere else, huh?" The tone of Vincent's voice made dread pool in his belly.

"Mhmmmmm, but I don't know, I kinda like tickling these sensitive feet! I guess I could be persuaded to change spots..."

He glanced back at Alastor and made eye contact while continuing his gentle torment of his soles. Damnit, he hadn't forgotten. Seems he actually had a spine here and wouldn't be letting up until he got what he wanted.

"Considering my penalty tomorrow, If you make a promise with me to give me save or rest points every ten seconds, so that I pass a ten-second mark, and then if I fail again, I won't be starting off back at one, but like... at 30, or 50, or 70, whatever I managed to get to before I failed..."

The fluttering picked up its pace, focusing on the most ticklish spots Vincent seemed to have mentally mapped out.

"If you agree to give me that, I will happily move on from these very ticklish feet, do we have a deal, sweetheart?"

If Alastor had wanted a good laugh he was certainly getting one. He was breathless with the sound.

His feet were tingling and tense being tickled to their limits. Every brush and wiggle over spots already written on made him feel like he needed to throw himself out the window.

But past his laughter that shook his whole body, he couldn't find a way out of it. All thoughts spiraled around the massive blaring fact that it tickled like all Hell by God he needed a break from it.

"OHOHO- SNRK- OHOKAY! OHOHOKAY! SNRK! DEHEHEAL! SNRK! IHIHI AHAHAGREE! SNRK!"

Vincent's smug glare flipped to adoration and satisfaction in an instant, the same instant the tickling to his feet finally blessedly stopped.

"There we go! Was that so hard, piglet? One minor agreement that makes sure your dear partner doesn't pass out tomorrow." He happily hummed, putting the utensil in his pocket.

After storing that cursed weapon away, the paler man turned and climbed across the bed until he was propped up over Alastor's body, noses nearly touching. With the release of his legs Alastor immediately planted his feet into the comforter and slowly rubbed them back and forth to try and eliminate the leftover tingling.

He made eye contact with Vincent, taking in his utterly lovestruck expression. "Hi, darling," He placed a quick kiss to either of Alastor's cheeks. "You having fun?"

Yes. And though he'd gotten more comfortable with this all, he still wasn't at the point he was going to answer that question truthfully.

Vincent looked so stupidly happy. And Alastor was stupidly happy to see that.

Seems Vincent was going to become much more openly affectionate now that they've had their talk.

Alastor was unprepared for what exactly it would entail but he was ready to accept it. He certainly wasn't upset with what he was receiving right now, those kisses to his cheeks making him want to giggle like a teenager with a crush.

"Lotta loud giggles and snorts over here, you're just the cutest ticklish piggy there is!" Vincent playfully nuzzled their noses together, before connecting their foreheads. "One of my favorite sounds, up there with every other sound you make!"

"Big talk coming from a squeaky toy as high-pitched as you. Though I must admit I have a fondness for those as well. Just like those eyes."

They truly were gorgeous, weren't they? Alastor was more mesmerized each time he looked at them. What ridiculous words could ever make Vincent believe they were an ugly feature?

Alastor would have to keep doling out compliments if they made Vincent look so adorably shy with that goofy little grin.

"You're gonna kill me with all these sweet words." Vincent said softly as he gentle brushed some of Alastor's hair behind his ear.

SNORT!

Oh no, not another-

"Your ears are a tickle spot?!" Vinecnt sounded as excited a kid on Christmas morning. "Oh, Doll, you're just a gem of cute little spots and noises!"

Curse his stupid fucking snort-laugh. At least the one person he was close with seemed to like it for some reason. Why he adored his snorting so much, Alastor couldn’t say. But he was grateful for it.

Didn't completely erase the embarrassment, however. Especially when Vincent began gently tracing the shells of both ears.

A horribly shrill shriek left Alastor's mouth and his shoulders shot up to protect his poor ticklish ears as snorts and squealy laughter escaped him.

Seemed his voice could go almost as high as Vincent's, he just had to be tickled in the right places.

"Ahaha! Snrk! Ehehe- pfftaha- SNRK! Ehehehe! Hic- EHEhehehe!"

Vincent leaned in very close and whispered into his ear something awfully ticklish, with the hand that was stationed there transferring to flutter at his neck. "Cootchie cootchie coo, ticklish little piglet."

His eyes shot wide open as soon as the baby talk left Vincent's mouth and he thrashed wildly.

"SHUHUT IHIHIT -SNRK- VIHIHINCEHENT IHIHI -SNRK- SWEHEHEHEAR! HIC! DOHON'T -SNRK- FUHUHUCKING- AHA!"

"You know, I haven't even tickled your belly yet, and even without it, you're sitting here losing your marbles." Vincent purred happily into the sensitive ear.

He slowly pulled back to straddle Alastor's waist upright, taking his hands to rest on Alastor's sides.

"Think we should change that?" He said casually with an infuriating smirk.

Alastor blinked up at Vincent then cast his gaze to the side and growled, the flush on his face clear as day.

He wasn't sure if Vincent had clocked it, but his stomach was his favorite spot to be tickled. It was by far his most ticklish area but it always made him laugh so hard and happily and it just felt good. It wasn't the same kind of good as Vincent's sides, as Alastor didn't really melt like he did. It just made him embarrassingly happy.

...but like fucking Hell he was gonna make any indication that that was true.

"Do what you want. Tomorrow it will be paid back in kind."

Vincent scoffed playfully and shifted back so his head was right above Alastor's belly. "You'd be as evil tomorrow even if I hadn't tickled you tonight, which is why I'm getting my preemptive revenge."

He laid his head on Alastor's stomach, just beneath Alastor's navel. He shifted his head to look wide-eyed at it.

"Hmmmm, are you seeing this Al? You've got a cute little button of some sort on your belly!" Said in a dramatically astonished explanation. "We need to make sure this little cutie is harmless, time for some exploration!" He was talking as if Alastor was a baby, his face matching the tone with exaggerated theatrical expressions, as he plunged his finger into the navel in question and lightly wiggled it around.

Alastor's face was burning all the way to his ears.

"SH-SHUTIT!" Alastor sputtered. "DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THA-AHAHAHA! SNRK!"

Full body laughter wracked his frame amongst squeals and snorts and very colorful protests.

"FUHUCKING- SNRK! DOHOHON'T S-SOHOHOHOUND LIHIHIKE -SNRK- THAHAT! Yohohohou -hic- LIHIHIttle -snrk- shiIHIHIT! AHAHA!"

The complete and utter embarrassment enveloped him along with the maddeningly ticklish feeling and his hysterical laughter, making his head feel fuzzy as he lost all composure.

"Gasp!" Vincent put a hand to his face, not looking at Alastor as he stared at his naval. "Doll! It's a tickle button! Can you believe it!?"

He hummed and looked like he was very seriously analyzing his stomach, making Alastor burn with embarrassment.

"I'm afraid this little button will need to be thoroughly tested." He gave Alastor a very serious look, speaking so dramatically as if he were playing another game with those kids from all those weeks ago. "Tickle buttons are projects that need to be investigated!" He declared.

Vincent sat his face on Al's belly, peering at the navel with wide theatrical eyes. His mouth was against the sensitive bit right underneath the naval, and he let out purposeful vibrations against the skin, as his hands gently drummed their fingers on the sides of his belly.

"HMMMMMMM..." was expressed loudly through purposeful vibrations.

Alastor was mortified. His stomach was doing flips as he tossed his head back and forth. His eyes were screwed shut. He couldn't believe this.

"AHA! SNRK! Pfftahahaha- SNRK! AHAHAHAHA! Ihihihi'm GOHOHOHOING TOHOHO -SNRRK- KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOU!"

An empty threat, but said with plenty of ferocity.

Vincent sat up abruptly. "I'm afraid that more in-depth research will be needed!" He bared his teeth in a wide grin, watching Al's face with delighted eyes.

..In depth research? What did he-

Both eyes shot open and he sputtered.

"VIHINCENT, dohon't yohohou DARE!"

Alastor's heart was pounding. He twitched and squirmed under his gaze. Excitement pulsed through every vein. Fuck this was going to tickle like the dickens and he couldn't wait...

"What surprising threats!" He gasped, obviously not surprised in the slightest. "Is it possible that this tickle button encourages violence? Well, now it has to be investigated!"

He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on either cheek, smirking at the flushed, giggly face. "Don't worry, Baby Doll, I'll save you from this meanie, icky little giggle button!" Playful taunt whispered in a babyish tone.

He pulled back, stabilizing Alastor's hips with his hands, and took in a big gulp of air, before shooting down to deliver a giant raspberry.

"PFFFFBBBBBBBBBTTTTT!" As soon as the air had escaped, he took a small breath of needed air before nibbling the edges of his navel, smug eyes glancing up at Alastor as he did so.

Alastor's back arched high as a helpless ear-piercing shriek of laughter escaped him. He threw his head back and absolutely howled, cackling and snorting as hard as he was physically able.

"AAAAHAHA! SNRK! AHAHA! IHIHI CAHAHA- SNRK! VIHIHIHAHA-!"

And Vincent didn't stop. His teeth kept nibbling on his hyper-sensitive nerves.

So Al didn't stop laughing, didn't stop crying tears of mirth, didn't stop snorting for quite a while.

The longer it went on, the fuzzier his head got. Not just from breathlessness, but from a flood of laughter-driven endorphins seeping into every crease of his brain. He could barely even think aside from the fact that it tickled, leaving him a loopy giggly mess without protest or retort.

It was like everything melted away. His need to be seen a certain way, his anxieties, his pride, his inhibitions, all of it just... faded away as Alastor fizzled into an unknown headspace that just felt so good.

He panted for breaths between giggles and snorts as the tickles shifted from his belly to his neck, a comparatively less ticklish spot.

When those teeth caught beneath his jaw, his squealed and hiccupped without a care in the world.

He was so… happy. He was embraced in a blanket of comfort and laughter and a euphoric loss of composure.

With Vincent. His partner.

Through his tickle-haze, their eyes met, his gaze communicating nothing but empty-headed mirth as he giggled and snorted incessantly.

Vincent pressed their foreheads together.

"I'm so happy right now. You've made me the happiest man in the world. I just want to continue this. Being with you, us making each other laugh, together until we grow old and gray."

Alastor's brain was a happy mushy pile of goo at this point. He heard Vincent talking but it was difficult to really comprehend every word.

He just knew that they were both happy. Overjoyed was probably a more apt descriptor.

Alastor tilted his head up and pressed his lip to Vincent's, though they were wide in a smile as he continued giggling and let out a couple snorts while he was there until he pulled away.

His hands pulled on their restraints as he attempted to reach out. He had honestly forgotten about the belt. His wrists lightly tugged a few times but he was too giggly and blissed out to figure out how to free himself.

"Let me get that for you." Vincent made quick work of the belt and tossed it aside. Immediately Alastor's arms wrapped around Vincent's neck. The taller man laid down on his side and Alastor curled into him, resting his cheek against that spot on his bare chest he had accidentally found those months ago as his shirt was still open. At some point Vincent laid on his back so Alastor could more easily curl into his side.

Alastor was still coming down from his high. That amount of laughter and loving teasing and embarrassment had sent his brain up to the clouds where it was still wanting to stay.

For once in his adult life he just felt so safe... so free to be silly and forget himself.

After a moment, Alastor stirred. His mind had finally come back to him. He felt quite embarrassed but knew it was fine. Vincent still looked up to him and no one else saw their little games they played. They were safe to each other, no matter how silly or 'weak' they might appear or let themselves be.

"You doing alright, tickle bug?"

Alastor giggled and looked up at Vincent. "Don't call me that."

"I don't know. I think it's a great name!" Vincent smile was cheesy and fond, not serious in the slightest.

Alastor hummed and nuzzled back into Vincent's chest. "I'm staying tonight."

He snorted. "No room for argument, huh?"

"Unless you want me to leave?" Alastor asked knowing full well what the answer was.

"Not a chance, doll. You're staying with me." He crushed Alastor in a remarkably strong hug, knocking the wind out of him before letting him go. "I wish you could live with me forever."

"Unfortunately two single men living with each other wouldn't look good to others. But nothing's stopping me from 'staying with a friend' most nights." Alastor put up some air quotes and grinned which Vincent matched.

"I guess you better get some stuff over to your 'friends' house if you plan to stay a while."

"Quite a while." Alastor said decisively.

"That's more than fine with me."

The two relaxed into the mattress with their new position. An arm wrapped around Alastor who was nuzzled and curled into Vincent's side, eyes lightly shut as he breathed in the scent his partner.

It was Spirit’s Eve in Pelican Town, and Sebastian was showing off his purple vampire costume to Sam. He was wearing a tuxedo with a cape, fake elf ears, fake fangs, and had styled his hair up a little bit for the event. 

Meanwhile Sam was showing off his ultimate werewolf costume. He was wearing wolf gloves, fake wolf ears, a fake tail and regular clothes like a sweater, pants and an orange shirt to show the half transformation from a human to a wolf. 

“Your costume…is more cute than anything, Sam.” Sebastian admitted. 

“It is not! It’s menacing and terrifying! FEAR ME.” Sam yelled, growling at him like a wolf. 

Sebastian just laughed and shook his head. “I will suck your body dry of all its blood. You will be nothing but a furry prune.” Sebastian told him. 

“As if I’m not gonna kill you first.” Sam reminded him. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Wolves are scared of humans, Sam.” Sebastian reminded him. 

“Maybe real wolves…but not werewolves…Werewolves are part human. Why would a werewolf be scared of its own species?” Sam asked. 

Sebastian sighed and called Maru over. Maru walked up, wearing her mad scientist costume. “Maru…are werewolves scared of humans?” Sebastian asked. 

“Well…there is no definitive answer on whether werewolves are afraid of humans. However, real wolves are certainly afraid of humans.” Maru replied. “Why do you ask, Seb-acula?” Maru asked. 

Sebastian smirked at Sam. “Unlike you, I did my research into my costume choice.” Sebastian told him. 

Sam chuckled. “It would be a shame if I were to eat garlic fingers in front of you.” Sam teased. “Or perhaps…” Sam pulled out a piece of wood and a hammer. “A stake to the heart?” 

Maru widened her eyes. “Where on earth did you get that?!” Maru asked. 

Sam looked at Maru. “I got Leah to whittle this for me…” Sam admitted. 

Sebastian hissed at Sam and covered his body and lower face with part of his cape. “How DARE YOU!” Sebastian yelled. 

Sam laughed. “I don’t even think Vincent would run and hide from fear.” Sam joked. 

Sebastian looked at Sam…then began to smirk. “Oh really?” Sebastian asked. 

“Really. Why don’t you try scaring Vincent yourself?” Sam asked. 

Sebastian chuckled. “Nah. He may end up peeing his pants, and I’ll end up in trouble.” Sebastian reminded him. “Besides: I’d rather scare YOU silly.” He replied. 

Sam smirked and crossed his arms. “Try me.” 

Sebastian smiled and walked up to Sam with a villionous look in his eyes and a toothy, evil grin. “I will give you 30 seconds to run and hide.” Sebastian told him. 

Sam scoffed. “Puh-lease…” Sam belittled. “As if you could scare me li-” 

“29.” Sebastian started to count. “28…27…26…” 

“Are you seriously counting down?” Sam asked. 

“24…23…22…” Sebastian kept counting. 

Sam looked at Maru. “Why’s he still counting down?” Sam asked. 

“19…18…17…16…” Sebastian kept counting. 

“Uh- Sam, you might want to actually run.” Maru warned, growing slightly nervous. 

“...11…10…” Sebastian continued. 

“Why? What’s he planning?” Sam asked. 

“8…7…6…” Sebastian kept on counting. 

“Just listen to me and RUN!” Maru ordered. 

“3…2…” Sebastian walked closer to Sam with his evil look on his face and his hands up, ready to take him down. “...1…” 

Sebastian’s eyebrows raised up as he started to realize why Maru might’ve wanted him to run. Sebastian grabbed Sam by the waist and picked him up. “GOTCHA.” 

Sam blinked and looked at Sebastian in confusion. “What are you doing?” Sam asked. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” Sebastian asked as he lifted up both of Sam’s arms. 

Sam felt Sebastian grab both ends of his sweater sleeves, and hold them above his head. Sam looked at Sebastian with a mix of confused worry. Why does he feel…so exposed right now? 

Suddenly, Sam felt fingers and nails start to skitter all over his left armpit. Sam widened his eyes and clenched his teeth as he felt a wobbly smile grow onto his face. 

Oh…Oh no…

Maru bit her lip as she watched her older brother begin his torment. “...At least it’s not me this time…” Maru mumbled. 

Sam started tittering and snickering as bits of his laughter threatened to move past his throat and teeth. Whenever the breathy laughter would move through his teeth, it sounded like he was hissing like a snake. 

“Oooooh…Sounds like the terrifying werewolf had a snake for breakfast…” Sebastian teased in his deep, evil voice. 

Then, Maru started counting down. “3…2…1-” she counted. 

Sam suddenly burst out in embarrassing giggles. It wasn’t ticklish enough to make him full-blown laugh, but it was just enough to leave him giggling like a little girl. 

“Theeere’s the laughter I’ve been waiting all night for~” Sebastian said. “So innocent…so girly…Hearing your giggles gives me many goosebumps.” Sebastian teased. 

“Shuhuhut uhuhup! Yohou're sohohoho dehehead!” Sam said through his giggles.

“How strange…the werewolf is threatening to kill me? Even though his exposed ticklish spots are being poked at, teased and tormented?” Sebastian asked. 

Sam tried to hide his face in the side of his right arm. He was growing more and more embarrassed from both the teasy tickles and the evil words. What Sebastian was doing was evil…utterly evil…Something only a super villain would do. 

“Get his neck!” Someone with a smaller voice declared. 

Sebastian looked over at the source of the voice, and smirked. Vincent was standing there in front of them, watching gleefully as his older brother was being tickled by Sebastian. 

Sam groaned amidst his giggles. “Vihihincehehent! Shuhush!” He tried to protest. But his protests would never be taken seriously if he was giggling like a tiny child. 

Sebastian smiled. “Tell me more, Vincent.” Sebastian encouraged calmly. 

Vincent giggled. “His neck makes him squeak like a mouse! Squeak squeak!” Vincent declared, pretending to be a mouse for a moment. “And his squishy sides are fun to tickle tickle.” Vincent added. 

“So…Like this?” Sebastian started skittering his fingers on the left side of Sam’s neck. 

Sam very much squeaked, and threw his head back as his giggles went up another octave. “EEheheheeek! EEHEHEHEEEE! NOHOhohohoHOHO!” Sam giggled and laughed. 

“Haha! Yeah! Like that!” Vincent replied. 

“Would you like to help me tickle your brother?” Sebastian asked. 

“Okay!” Vincent replied. “But can he lay down? Pleeeeaaaase?” Vincent asked. 

Sebastian laughed…genuinely laughed. “Sure!” He replied, temporarily using his real voice rather than his teasy voice. 

Maru chuckled and started to walk away. “Have fun, Sam.” Maru told him. 

“Nohohoho! Maru hehehehelp mehehe!” Sam yelled, reaching out his hand as Sebastian kicked Sam’s foot out from under him and laid him onto the ground. “Nohoho! Myhyhy cohostume will get dirtyhyhyhy!” Sam complained. 

“Worry not. We are on grass, not the dirt. Your costume will look good either way.” Sebastian replied. 

Sebastian let go of Sam’s sweater sleeves and started skittering a hand of fingers in each of Sam’s armpits. “Tickle tickle tickle, Sam~” Vincent reverted back to his teasy, low voice. 

Vincent quickly jumped onto Sam’s waist and started skittering his own fingers on Sam’s sides. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy kitchy koo, Sammy!” Vincent declared proudly. 

“ooOOOHOHOHO NOHOHOHO! HAHAHAhahahaha! Quihihihit ihihihit! Whyhyhyhyhy?!” Sam asked. 

Vincent giggled in reaction. “Tickling you is fun!” He told his older brother. 

Sebastian smiled as he heard Vincent giggle. It sounded strangely similar to Sam’s girly giggle from earlier. “It really is, Sam.” Sebastian told him. 

Sebastian and Vincent took their time tickling Sam for a bit. They both enjoyed the sound of Sam’s laughter and giggles filling the air outside Sam and Vincent’s house in Pelican Town. 

Sebastian soon looked over at Vincent with a new plan. “I have an idea:” 

Vincent lifted his hands up off his older brother. “What is it?” 

Sebastian smiled. “You tickle the left side with all your fingers…” He told Vincent. “And I’ll tickle the right side with all my fingers.” Sebastian told him. 

“Okay!” Vincent replied happily. Vincent quickly brought himself over to Sam’s left side, and grabbed his side with 8 fingers on the top of his side, and his 2 thumbs on the bottom of his side. Sam did the exact same thing, but on the right side instead of the occupied left side. 

“3…” Sebastian started to count. 

“GO!” Vincent declared, tickling and squeezing his brother’s side swiftly. 

Sam threw his head back and guffawed loudly. 

“Oh! Uh-” Sebastian quickly started tickling as well, trying to make up for the lost couple seconds from the mix up. 

“ooOOOOHOHOHO GOHOHOHOD! GAAAHAHAHAHAHAhahahaha! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T! PLEHEHEHEhehehehease stohohohop!” Sam begged. 

Sebastian nodded and lifted his fingers off Sam. But Vincent kept on going. “Kitchy kitchy kitchy koo, Samson!” Vincent teased in his little, innocent voice. 

“YOhohohou toohohohoo, Vihihincent.” Sam told him. 

“Awww…But that was only 5 mini seconds…” Vincent whined. 

Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh. “5 mini seconds of hearing your brother laugh…that’s more than I can hear in a day sometimes.” Sebastian teased. 

Vincent widened his eyes and looked at Sam. “You don’t laugh with Sebashin?” Vincent reacted. 

“Thahahat’s a lihie! Ihi do lahaugh! Vehery ohohoften.” Sam argued. 

Sebastian chuckled. “Yeah…you’re right.” Sebastian replied. 

Vincent looked at Sebastian. “Did you lie?” Vincent asked. 

“Yes, I did.” Sebastian told him. 

Vincent smiled. “Hey Sam, what does mommy do when I lie?” Vincent asked. 

“Uhh…she tickles you?” Sam replied. 

“Sebashin lied! So he needs tickle tickles too!” Vincent declared. 

Sebastian raised his eyebrows in surprise. Wait, what!? 

Sam smirked and grabbed Sebastian. “He’s right. Your turn, Mr. Seb-acula.” Sam teased. 

Vincent ran up to Sebastian and started tickling Sebastian’s sides. But…Sebastian didn’t start laughing. He didn’t even flinch. 

“What-...Awww…he’s not ticklish…” Vincent whined. 

Sam laughed at his brother’s reaction. “He’s still ticklish…just not on the sides like me.” Sam told him. “Buuuut…” He started skittering his fingers on Sebastians ribs. “He’s very ti-” 

“PFFFTTAAAHAHAHAhahahaha! Hehehehehey!” Sebastian bursted out laughing. 

“Yeah, that.” Sebastian replied, working with the interruption. 

“Cool!” Vincent started tickling Sebastian’s lower ribs, while Sam tickled his upper ribs. Sebastian threw his head back and started cackling and laughing. His voice was a somewhat lower laugh. But, it was still adorable to listen to. 

And nearby, Maru was also listening to her brother’s laughter. It was nice to  see that the tables had turned. And Vincent was right: 

Vincent, Felix, Kevin and Adrian were enjoying their time watching a new movie that Adrian had recommended to them a few day's ago, after all, he seemed pretty eager for them to watch the whole movie with him, even if it meant having to make a little deal. Aside from that, they all were enjoying watching it - aside from Felix - it had such bright colours that would exactly catch the eye's of their sweet, innocent nerd.

"Ooo, I heard this part was great!" Vincent had opposed, making Adrian's eye's lighten up with childish joy, but their certain goth boyfriend wasn't liking this so much. He wanted to see at least some sort of dark colours, but there was non to arrive. Out of pure boredom, he thought of something to do whilst he was distracted. He was adjusting himself in his position and accidentally rubbed his elbow into Adrian's side. He yelped and immediately covered his side.

The goth went to apologize for hurting him but only to be greeted with a slightly flushed face with slowly widdening eye's. "Look, Adrian, I didn't mean to hur-" "You didn't hurt me." He replied in a low tone, this was making the other's worried, making Kevin pause the movie to walk over and kneel down infront of him, "If your hurt, we need to che-" "I'm not hurt, just, uhm.."

The worried expressions soon left, leaving Felix to grin menacingly, Adrian had saw this as a mirthful smile tugged upon his lips. "Oh, so our little Adrian is just ticklish?" Vincent said so casually, oh yhis was so embarrassing to their mini rainbow.

Felix was the first one to make a move, slowly wiggling his finger's around his tummy to see what type of reaction he'd get. He didn't know if he'd enjoy this so he just kept it gentle for now. The smaller cuffed his face into his hands, laughter bubbling up from his lungs to his throat.

"I think Adrian needs a little cheering up, do you guy's think so?" Felix slathered, Kevin and Vincent making glances to eachother before smiling from the silliness, "Of course."

Kevin had grabbed Adrian's wrists with a hand to put them over his head, his usable hand chiseling patterns into his underarms. Felix changing spots as he dug at his ribs, his nimble finger's getting the grooves with pure ease that immediately sent the other into helpless cackles. Whilst Vincent traced and scribbled at the knee pits, sending flurry's of giggles to mix with his laughter. His laugh was so sweet and soft, it could put anyone into a happy slumber.

"G-GuHUy's! NoHOHo! Ihi CAHAN- WAHAIT, STAHAP IHIHIHIT!" Adrian screeched, throwing his head back as he couldn't curl into a ball, Felix was currently scribbling at his side's near his hip's, getting the nerd to act this way, it was way too adorable, Kevin could tell you since he got to see Adrian's purely happy expression. He was chorteling and snickering, which was he other's favourite sound. Usually they'd tickle Vincent, but to know their nerd was so ticklish, they simply couldn't resist. The laughter was all they heard and the movie was forgotten about, spooning the smallest in bed as aftercare with his strawberry milk being sipped at caringly.

====================================================================

---

Alastor had woken up at his usual time. His body clock was consistent and precise like that. Though, for a moment, he was terrified, not recognizing the location he woke up in. A bed much too large with shiny silk sheets colored a deep navy blue.

Then it all rushed back to him.

All of it.

His face immediately flooded with heat recalling his embarrassing actions. Tickling Vincent unprompted like that? Had he no tact?

Then, slipping up and accidentally letting Vincent tickle him, outing his sensitives just like that?

Alastor had been determined to keep the secret to his grave, that being that he was horribly ticklish. His maman used to play with him all the time, using that little weakness of his to make him laugh.

He adored it as a child, but refused to be seen as weak and childish as an adult.

But that was now out the window with his business partner having seen, and worse, heard him like that.

Even as a kid he had that little quirk with his laugh when being tickled. As soon as his mind seemed to register a ticklish sensation making him laugh... he would snort. A lot. His maman would tease him, occasionally calling him 'piglet'. He hadn't minded it then, but it was greatly embarrassing now.

After their little tussle and Vincent falling asleep, Alastor needed somewhere for himself to rest. Knowing Vincent was originally going to be in his bed and Alastor on the couch, he just acted like they had switched and spent the night in his bed, not exactly wanting to share the small couch space with the large snoring man.

Once he was awake and had shaken off that clingy feeling of embarrassment, he changed into his provided day clothes and went to Vincent's kitchen to whip up some breakfast. Thankfully, the man had some eggs he could use. With the kitchen not containing much else, simple scrambled eggs with salt and pepper would have to do. Nowhere near his usual culinary standards, but it got the job done.

Honestly, if Alastor was ever going to stay over here again the man needed actual ingredients.

Since Alastor was nothing if not generous, he made enough food for Vincent when he woke up as well. He allocated more eggs for his business partner since he was not only larger in stature but had an appetite to match.

Vincent was very diligent with the building of his muscle mass. He went to the gym multiple times a week and had a work out regiment at home. He had explained that it was important to him for multiple reasons, both being capable as a killer but also having a more attractive figure for television.

Alastor could most definitely appreciate its usefulness in the field. It was one of the reasons he had first agreed to teaming up with him. Alastor was skillful, quick, and accurate, but that alone could not carry two dead bodies at once across the bayou.

Don't get him wrong, Alastor was not weak in the slightest. He'd done just fine downing men twice his size before Vincent entered his life.

But why would a shepherd deny his pack mule?

Memories of the previous night danced through his head. Echoes of the Vincent's laughter rung in his head.

He smile quirked upwards just a tick.

Vincent's laugh being tickled was genuinely like nothing else he'd heard before. Infectious was truly the best way to describe it. It was so silly and hilarious to listen to. It was bright and jovial. Hearing it made something fluttery and warm rise in his belly, spreading to his chest and lungs and making him laugh right along.

The feeling of laughter... Alastor hadn't embraced it in a long time.

He did laugh, of course, at times. But it was always measured and filtered so as not to make a scene or to seem undignified.

Last night he truly let himself go, most of that could be attributed to the alcohol, but it was so deeply fulfilling.

'You're never fully dressed without a smile!' he'd say. It was a sentiment he held close and lived up to at every moment.

'Laughter is the best medicine' others would say. Two sides of the same coin in a way, declaring that joy and displaying it was an important part of life.

If laughter truly was medicine then it undoubtedly healed something in him last night. The rush from it almost matched the colossal amount of booze in his system.

He wasn't certain if Vincent's contagious laugh would get him back to that state sober, though.

You know what would?

Alastor blinked at the heat in his cheeks and shook his head.

Absolutely not. He would never allow anyone, especially Vincent, to see him like that again.

No. He wouldn't.

However, tickling Vincent again was undeniably appealing. And he had framed it as a deal for his sadistic tendencies.

It wasn't play. It wasn't childish!

It was torment. Alastor could do torment...

His brain couldn't help but remind him of what others would say if they were to know. Two men making an agreement... for tickling? For Alastor to tickle Vincent to tears and most likely laugh and giggle right along with him?

That didn't seem the preferred activity of a terrifying killer.

It seemed like the past time of an ridiculous child.

Alastor growled and put more effort into breaking apart the chunks of scrambled eggs in the pan.

Enough. He was over thinking things. Vincent had agreed. This was purely torment for his own selfish desires. He was still Alastor. He was still feared.

For a moment he focused his thoughts on the sizzling of the pan. The flickering of the flames beneath it.

Then his ear twitched, picking up the sounds of shifting fabric from the living room.

Vincent was awake.

The larger man sheepishly shuffled into the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas with a rather drowsy look in his eyes. He adjusted his askew glasses as he met Alastor's gaze.

If Alastor were a sentimental man, he might've called Vincent's groggy and bashful appearance... cute.

But he wasn't. So he didn't.

"Hangover's not as bad as I was expecting." Vincent said he headed further into the kitchen, halting just about a foot away from Alastor as he peered into the pan.

"That is surprising considering you're the one who threw in the towel with our little bet. I'll keep the five dollars safe and sound."

Vincent snickered. "Yeah, yeah, you earned it." Vincent stretched his tense back, leaning backwards with a groan.

His shirt rode up, exposing a bit of his bare belly.

Alastor's eyes locked onto it.

When Vincent sighed and returned to his usual posture, he instantly noticed Alastor's focus. He gave a lopsided smile and spoke hesitantly.

"You thinking about last night?"

Alastor cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the pan. He busied himself with sprinkling salt and pepper on the cooked chunks of egg. "Hard not to."

"I, uh... I'm still okay with, y-you know... the deal we made."

Alastor blinked and looked at Vincent again. He was flushed and fighting a smile unsuccessfully.

Vincent must truly love it if he was bringing it up sober just to assure he was intending on following through.

"Hm. With how you brought it up it almost sounds like you're asking me to tickle you." Alastor grinned with mocking eyes. "Is that what you're wanting?"

"What?!" Vincent sputtered, his shoulders up to his ears which were quickly turning red. "No! I-I just mean, like, I'm... following through. It's for your sake, of course. I don't back out of our deals and you seemed like you really enjoyed it."

Alastor pulled out two plates and started scraping the eggs onto them.

"I have an added stipulation to our deal I hope would be common sense." Alastor said as he carried the plates to the kitchen table. Vincent grabbed some silverware and followed him, putting the forks down while listening intently.

Once they were sat with their plates in front of them, Alastor continued. "This exchange of ours should be private, obviously. Not a single soul outside this room should know our little activities."

Vincent snorted. "Of course, Al. Are you kidding? I can't even imagine what my coworkers would think. Probably that I'm some sexually deviant queer or something."

"I'm glad we're on the same page." Alastor took a bite of his eggs. Not great, but he did the best with what he had. Vincent was seriously lacking anything with flavor in his kitchen.

"So... are we going to transport the bodies once we're done eating?"

Alastor was thankful the conversation moved on naturally towards something easier to talk about... like homicide.

They took longer than necessary to finish breakfast, their banter familiar and entertaining, before making their way to the yard and preparing to move the bodies into Vincent's car for an easy transport across town.

The pair lived in separate houses about a 20 minute drive from the other, though if one were to cut through the bayou on foot, walking would only be a 15 minute journey. That was only true though if one was familiar with the bayou enough to navigate it quickly. Alastor was a natural while Vincent was still learning. Driving in a car was easier, and also more subtle during the daylight. However, Vincent was not a stranger to lugging multiple bodies through the bayou in the dark with nothing but a flashlight and muscle memory.

Once the corpses were safely at Alastor's home, the two separated for the time being. They had a kill scheduled for the coming Friday, just a week after the last one. They were timing them relatively close, meaning they'd need to lay low longer afterwards. The target was an amateur thrill seeker who'd been slinking into the bayou each night, getting a little too close for either of their likings. He also was a waiter at a whites only restaurant who went out his way to harass those of color, even those just walking by outside. Young, unimportant, reckless, and stupid. Easy kill.

Too easy.

...

Vincent was a decisive man. When he wanted, he took. When was caught off guard, he regained his footing and struck with precision.

But tonight, he froze.

The man was armed. He shouldn't have been. It didn't make sense. But he was.

Vincent stared down the barrel as ice cold fear doused him from head to toe, freezing him in place. He had never hesitated like this before, but he was so surprised it was as if his base instincts took over.

Alastor snarled his name and then he felt an impact to his left.

Alastor tackled him just as the man pulled the trigger. The bullet flew into the tree trunk behind him.

Alastor' momentum sent Vincent to the ground, but he kept going, sliding into a nearby ditch.

The impact, and the knowledge of Alastor now most likely hurt, finally kicked his brain back into gear. He grabbed a nearby branch and charged forward, keeping low, before swinging it into the man's outstretched arm, bending it backwards and launching the gun from his hand. In a motion more typical from him, smooth and lightning-quick, he snatched the gun from the ground, aimed, and shot. Point blank between the eyes.

The man went limp on the ground.

Vincent took a breath. A deep one. As adrenaline pounded through his veins.

Alastor.

Vincent turned towards the ditch and slid down on his heels.

Alastor was on his hands and knees looking a mix between furious and relieved. His shirt was torn and slightly bloody and his leg looked banged up but other than that he seemed fine.

Partially choked up and breathing heavily, he spoke."Thank God you're-"

"Is he dead?" Alastor cut him off with such stern decisiveness Vincent clamped his mouth shut immediately.

He swallowed. "Yes."

"Good..." Alastor sighed a deep breath before shooting an absolutely murderous look.

Vincent held his arms up, gun still in hand. "I know! I know! I froze! I'm sorry."

"You're lucky you redeemed yourself otherwise I'd shoot you myself for being dead weight." Alastor looked back at his leg and wiggled his foot a bit before wincing. "Thanks to your idiocy, I've injured my calf. I can't walk through the bayou."

"Is that your only injury?"

Alastor nodded, still looking at the damage. "Besides some scrapes on my torso, yes."

"Good." He handed the gun for Alastor to hold who took it confusedly.

"What are you-" Alastor was cut off when Vincent hooked his arms beneath his back and knees and easily scooped him up.

"I'll come back for the body later. I'll get you to my place. I have first aid supplies there. You can rest on my couch for however long it takes you to heal."

Vincent turned and started running without another word.

Alastor blinked in surprise. Sure he'd seen him transport bodies before, but feeling how truly effortless it was for Vincent to carry him was honestly rather impressive, though Alastor was quite light for a man.

He made it through the wilderness in record time, making it through the backdoor of his house and placing Alastor gently on the couch.

"Lemme get some stuff real quick." He rushed to his bedroom almost immediately.

Alastor tested his calf again, flexing his ankle. From his best guess, it seemed he tore the muscle. Not the end of the world but those took quite a bit to heal and it was going to inhibit his walking during that time.

He sighed and sank his head onto the arm of the couch. Great.

He didn't like to depend on others but Vincent owed him. A lot. This wasn't so much 'depending' as it was cashing in on a life debt.

Vincent returned shortly dressed in clean clothes, arms full of items.

He sat down a bottle of whiskey, a very familiar bottle. "For the pain and just to take the edge off. Here's a clean change of clothes, as well. I've also got a first aid kit, some pillows, and a blanket."

As he listed the items he set them down in the surrounding area.

Vincent suddenly flushed and coughed into his hand. "Do you, uh, need help changing?"

"I'll manage." Alastor said sternly. Vincent inhaled sharply and turned around. From this angle Alastor could see his ears turning red again.

It took longer than it usually would as he had to carefully avoid flexing his calf muscle, but he managed to sort himself out in time. With his top off he was able to seem some shallow wounds on his torso, mostly a few lightly bleeding scratches on his side. Nothing much to worry over. Unbothered, he slid the pajama top on. Again, the clothes were a bit big for him, but he wasn't picky.

Once he signaled he was done Vincent quickly poured him a drink and handed it to him. Surprisingly, he also poured himself some. A rather large one. Vincent wasn't typically a whiskey fan but perhaps he just needed something to clam his anxiety.

After his drink he busied himself with the first aid kit. Alastor quickly downed his glass, more to curb his annoyance than his pain level.

"Do you know what all your injuries are?" Vincent asked, still looking through the kit.

"Torn calf muscle and some lacerations on my side. All manageable."

"Alright well I can't do much about the tear but we can at least disinfect the cuts." Vincent pulled out some hydrogen peroxide and cotton pads. "You're, uh... gonna have to lift up your shirt."

There was that flush again. Honestly, Vincent could sometimes be more prudish than Alastor...

Alastor set his drink on the coffee table and did so, lifting the thin pajama shirt and revealing his torso from his ribs downwards.

"..."

"Well?" Alastor asked impatiently after Vincent had been staring for an intensely long time doing nothing. He startled suddenly, his ears red once again.

Alastor's smile quirked up. He found his ears flushing to be unreasonably cute.

Cute? He meant intriguing. Intriguing was the correct word.

One time he looked so flustered he seemed ready to explode. His ears were red as cherries along with the rest of his face. The hue complimented his mismatched eyes quite well. Green, blue, and red.

"Might sting a bit." Vincent warned. Alastor rolled his eyes. He should know by now that Alastor had world-class pain tolerance.

Vincent lightly placed his free hand on Alastor's stomach while the one with the pad closed in.

Alastor flinched quite noticeably. His stomach tensed and he bit his cheek.

"Al? You alright?" Vincent was confused. Alastor was usually supernaturally resistant to any kind of pain and he flinched just with the pad coming close.

"I'm fine." Came a strained response.

"Uh... okay. Just tell me if you need me to stop." Vincent touched the pad down to the scratches. It stung, of course, but that was entirely more manageable from what actually had him flinching.

Alastor allowed himself to relax a bit, slowly unclenching his stomach and breathing evenly.

"Lemme get this blood real quick."

Ah. The dried blood spread across his torso. Vincent gently pressed the soft fuzzy cotton pad to his stomach and began wiping.

Alastor's eyes shot open. His entire torso tensed. He slammed a hand over his rapidly widening grin.

His stomach started jerking. He squeezed his eyes shut and his shoulders shook.

Vincent was absolutely dumbfounded.

For about 3 seconds.

"Ohhhh." Vincent snickered and smiled amusedly, stilling the cotton pad. "I forgot you're ticklish here."

Alastor's eyes narrowed and he growled.

Vincent chuckled and held his hands up. "Relax, Al, jeez! You already know I'm ticklish. No shame."

Alastor seemed to get less pissed at that. Vincent wore a lopsided grin.

"Is this your worst spot?"

"Why on Earth would I volunteer that information?" Alastor lifted his hand from his mouth to speak in a rather annoyed tone.

"I mean. It seems pretty bad. And if it's not, that just means you have an even worse spot somewhere else I'll find eventually."

Alastor huffed with what could only be described as a pout. "Yes. It is." He cocked an eyebrow. "What about you? Are your ribs your worst spot?"

He seemed to choke on his spit again and clear his throat, his smile shifting to something more bashful. "I, uh- well... no, it isn't."

Alastor's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?"

Vincent chuckled. "Yeah. I've always been too ticklish for my own good."

"So where is your worst spot?"

With a playful grin Vincent effortlessly fired back. "Why on Earth would I volunteer that information?"

Alastor hummed and tilted his head with a teasing smile. "Guess I'll just have to find it for myself, then."

Vincent's reactive giggle was embarrassingly goofy sounding, reflecting the rush of giddy shyness it caused.

He held the cotton pad back to Alastor's midriff, causing it to tense. Vincent successfully held back a giggle at that. It felt good not to be the only ticklish one on the team.

Once he continued gently wiping off the blood Alastor slammed both hands over his mouth as he tried desperately to suppress his laughter. His eyes were screwed shut as his shoulders and stomach shook with each silenced guffaw.

Vincent meanwhile looked at him as if he were the embodiment of beauty itself. He'd never seen Alastor like this before. It made his heart soar.

As the cotton pad danced over his torso, Vincent couldn't help but admire his belly. The skin was soft and smooth and bounced with every giggle. It was kind of squishy too. Not because of fat, but due to lack of muscle. Just a bunch of delicate organs and a layer of highly ticklish skin to protect them. He watched it quiver with each snicker and titter wearing a happy lovesick smile.

He just wished Al would stop suppressing the laughs and just let them out. He was DYING to hear them.

His wiping of the blood got less precise as he started wandering his brushing to map out all of Alastor's most sensitive spots.

And... There! Alastor's entire body jolted violently when he hit that little spot right there. Just below his bellybutton.

He removed the pad and immediately brought all 5 fingers to lightly dance over the area, eyes locked onto Al's face to soak up his reaction.

And, OH, he couldn't have asked for anything better!

Alastor's eyes shot open in alarm, his grin grew massive, and he exploded into a hysterical laughing fit.

A laughing fit absolutely FILLED with delightful little snorts.

His hands tried to cover it up but it was all for naught. Vincent heard every little squeak, squeal, cackle, and most importantly, snort.

He stared at him with eyes wide as saucers before breaking out a blindly bright smile.

Oh this was the cutest thing he’d ever seen hands down. Screw puppies or kittens or newborn babies. Alastor blushing, hiding part of his face, absolutely snorting up a storm in a helpless fit of laughter cause his tummy was just too ticklish?

Vincent was sure his heart was going to explode. It was the most adorable damn sound he’d ever heard. And Alastor, the cocky deadly Alastor, was SHY about it?

Vincent took a moment to thank whatever higher power blessed him with this tonight. If he developed amnesia tomorrow he hoped this would be the last memory to go.

Alastor finally tore his hands away from covering his face to grab Vincent's tickling hand and shove it away. He quickly panted to recover his breath and Vincent just sat back and enjoyed the uninterrupted view of his face. His complexion generally made it harder to tell if he was flushed or not but when he was really flustered there was no hiding it. His whole face was a deep crimson and his smile was still wobbly and genuine.

"Your laugh..." Vincent chuckled to himself. Before he could continue, Alastor looked defensive.

"I'm well aware of how undignified it is Vincent. You're the one who decided to forcefully draw it out of me."

"Undigni-? Alastor that was cutest damned laugh I've ever heard."

They both blinked at each other.

Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have used the word 'cute'.

Alastor shifted his jaw and picked up his whiskey glass, empty, but it seemed he just needed something to do and look at.

"'humiliating' is a better word for it, I fear." Alastor's tone was flippant, but seemed to be disguising some insecurity.

Vincent softened his expression before reaching for the whiskey bottle and pouring Al another drink.

"I always thought my uncontrolled laugh to be ugly and annoying." He said as he poured. Al's eyes met his. "You called it infectious."

Alastor's smile met his eyes. "You called mine cute."

Vincent chuckled and placed the bottle back on the table. "What a pair we are. Serial killers. Entertainers. Horribly ticklish with unique laughs."

Alastor chuckled as he sipped his drink.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Both enjoy being tickled."

Alastor nearly spat his drink onto the couch. He grunted and forcefully swallowed his mouthful. "Excuse me?"

Vincent's grin was massive. "You liked it. You know I like it. And I could tell you did. Covering your face instead of fighting back at all? Only removing my hand when you were embarrassed about your little snorts..."

Oh, Alastor's face was BURNING.

"Come on, you can admit it. I just did."

Alastor tightened his gaze and slammed down his whiskey glass. "I will admit no such thing."

Vincent looked delighted to hear that.

"Oh no, seems I didn't get all the blood!" He spoke in an overexaggerated fake tone before lightly dancing all ten fingers over his belly, carefully avoiding his scratches.

Alastor burst into hysterics, snorting repeatedly as he lost it.

"VIHI- SNRK- IHIHINCENT! SNRK! IHIHI SWEHEHEAR! SNRK!"

"Admit iiiiiit~ You like being tiiiiickled~" Vincent sang teasingly. Oh, he was loving how ticklish his tummy was. His touch was so light but Alastor was losing his mind. Plus, he could feel the quaking of his belly with every booming laugh and adorable snort.

Then, slightly tipsy and impulsive, he pulled a move he never would have before tonight.

He leaned down, pressed his lips to Alastor's belly, and blew a raspberry over his navel.

And Alastor. Shrieked.

"PFFTAHA- SNRK! AHAHAHA! VIHIHAHAHA! SNRK!"

Vincent felt his head be harshly shoved away which he allowed.

Alastor panted, his expression slightly pained. Vincent's amusement turned to worry.

"Calf muscle is still torn. That was... intense. I couldn't help but thrash."

Ah. He kicked his legs and upset his torn muscle.

"Just... not now. We have to allow the muscle to heal."

Oh... Ohohoho... Vincent was not letting that slip up go.

"Not now?" He asked with a shit-eating grin.

Alastor blinked confusedly then his calming red flush renewed as bright as ever.

"I- I didn't-"

"You said 'not now'. Meaning you're okay with it happening again." Vincent lightly danced five fingers up and down his belly, gentler and slower so as not to cause any more uncontrolled thrashing. "You like being tickled~"

Alastor broke into laughter again, still littered with snorts but not as intense as before. His hands latched onto Vincent's wrist but barely made any effort to push him away.

"Come on, Al. Just admit it! There's no shame! It's just us two and you already know I like it. If you admit it, I promise I'll go pickup breakfast from the cafe you like tomorrow." Yeah he had to resort to bargaining but come on. He HAD to hear him admit it!

After about twenty more adorable seconds of snorts and cackling, he finally gave in.

"Ohohohokay! Snrk! OHOKAY! Fihihine! Ihihihi- SNRK! Ihihihi ehehehenjoy ihihit! Snrk!"

Vincent giggled to himself, so utterly adoring and enamored. He let his index finger remain to just lightly trace shapes all over his belly, which Vincent was quickly learning he never wanted to take his hands off of.

It kept Al in a state of light high-pitched tittering with just an occasional snort or two.

"Ihihi ehehexpect aha- snrk! Ahaha fuhuhull sprehehead tohohomorrow." He giggled incessantly.

Vincent rolled his eyes. "I know, I know. Quiche, croissants, the whole shebang." Then his smile turned an equal mix of fond and teasing. His tickling finger relented as he moved his hand to brush some hair that had fallen in Alastor's face. "And I'll be here to tickle you as much as you want until you get better. And beyond then."

If Vincent didn't know any better, he would've pinned Alastor's returned smile as... bashful. But as quick as he registered it, it was gone, replaced with the more typical mischievous one.

"When I'm better you can expect comeuppance for this little attack here." Alastor reached forward slightly to tweak Vincent's rib, making him squeak at a hilariously high pitch. Alastor chuckled amusedly. "I still have to find your worst spot."

---

Alastor was having a bad week.

First, his radio station got infested with termites so he couldn't perform until it was fully fumigated and inspected.

Second, the kill that Vincent and he had planned was a bust. Their target took an unexpected trip to California before the hit was set to take place. It had now been 26 days without a kill.

Third, he was out of organ meat for the time being. He had eaten the last of the liver last night. And now he had no idea when he'd be able to restock.

In short, he was agitated and stir-crazy.

Though, he had an outlet now.

He and Vincent had made a rather silly deal while intoxicated. When Alastor was craving violence and couldn't satisfy it normally, his business partner would allow himself to be tortured...

Alastor could admit in the privacy of his head that the method of torture was a little embarrassing. Both in how juvenile and harmless it was, plus the fact that he really really enjoyed it.

Tickling.

Vincent, to Alastor's delight, was devastatingly ticklish. An absolute joy to toy with.

And now... Alastor was going to cash in on their little deal, put his twitching fingers to work.

Vincent was still at work, though he would be getting off soon. He was typically back home by 5:40. Easy.

He slunk through the bayou to Vincent's house. The man had given him a spare key. The trusting fool.

He slipped in through the back door, toed his shoes off (Alastor was not so tactless as to track swamp water through Vincent's home), hid behind the corner of the wall close to the front door, and waited for his victim to arrive.

...

Days at the tv station varied from exciting to exhausting to everything in between.

Today, Vincent was bored out of his skull.

He did his typical news report, then was in what felt like never ending meetings, full of people who talked and talked but said nothing.

Those damn higher ups... More power and attention than Vincent but didn't even know how to use it properly.

Plus that guy who hosted the talk shows kept going on and on about the crowds of fans and people screaming for his attention.

The bastard... rubbing it in.

He'd have to bring his name up to Alastor next time they met.

Vincent sighed as he got in his car and began his drive home. He wasn't sure exactly when he'd get to see Alastor again now that their kill had been called off. Maybe bringing up the redhead from the station the right way... he could persuade Alastor on that.

He yearned to see his business partner again. Days were often dull without him.

What was he going to do after a drag of a day like that? Go home, heat up some canned soup (that was about all he knew how to cook), sit in front of the tv for hours, then go to bed.

He groaned as he stepped out of his car in his driveway. Maybe there'd be a movie he hadn't seen being broadcasted. He needed something to make him laugh after having a painfully fake people-pleasing smile plastered on for 8 hours.

He unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and took a long deep sigh.

God he missed Alastor. He could almost smell his cologne. The man took frequent trips to the bayou so he often had an earthy musk that somehow mixed incredibly with a spicy cinnamon aroma.

The smell was so vivid. It was almost like he was-

The wind was taken out of him as a blur grabbed him and shoved him against the wall, chest-first.

A shorter figure. The scent of cinnamon and moss enveloping him.

His alarm melted once he realized who the blur was.

"Evening, Al." He greeted in a slightly strained but remarkably calm tone.

God, the man could kill him right now and he wouldn't care. What mattered was that he was here.

Though being pinned to the wall was new. He was curious what that was about. But he was absolutely not complaining. In fact, he was perfectly fine with staying like this. All night... Alastor pressed against his back.... Hands gripping his jacket.

He could feel his breath on the back of his neck and he shivered.

He took another deep breath of the scent. The aroma set deep into his bones, melting any tension from him in seconds.

And that rich syrupy voice purred so close to his ear. "Do you remember the little deal we made?"

Vincent blinked, slowly coming out of his happy place.

His face flushed and his stomach leaped. Was he actually-?

It would make a lot of sense actually. When they first made the deal he specifically pointed out craving activity when going without violence.

The lack of kills plus being out of the studio must've been eating him up.

He was pressed more firmly against the wall as one hand wandered to lightly tap a single finger to his ribs.

"Are you ready to fulfill your end?"

Vincent jolted and gasped, his nerves lighting up with anticipation.

This was not in his wildest dreams how he expected his night to go but he couldn't be more happy about it.

He cleared his throat and attempted to steady his accelerating heartrate.

"I, uh... Y-yeah, Al. If it'll help out your frustration..." His voice came out uncertain and hesitant, but that was truly only because of him not wanting to sound too eager.

"The amount of seconds it takes for you to lay on your bed with your arms up is the amount of seconds i spend at this little spot here to warm-up." A firm tap to his lowest ribs elicited an embarrassingly high squeak. Alastor chuckled, likely entertained by his reaction.

Abruptly, Alastor stepped back, leaving Vincent shaking on jelly legs as he stumbled back from the wall.

Then what he had said hit him like a truck.

Vincent bolted to his bedroom, whipping around the corner so clumsily he almost ran straight into the door frame. He forcefully kicked his shoes off into the hall and all but dove onto his bed before scrambling so he was laying flat on his back with his arms over his head.

The shorter man casually walked in with a sly smile. "Fourteen seconds."

Fourteen. Vincent could do fourteen. That was manageable.

The bed dipped as Alastor climbed on it and-

Hooooly shit.

Alastor threw one leg over Vincent's hips and sat down, straddling his waist.

Vincent was laying on his back... with Alastor on top of him... staring down at him with half-lidded eyes and a satisfied smile...

He was sure if he was standing up his jaw would be on the floor. This was like something out of a fantasy.

"I'm afraid you'll have to help me keep count. You can do that, can't you?"

Alastor could've asked him to lasso the sun and he would've said yes.

Vincent cleared his throat and nodded.

"Good. Count backwards from fourteen. If you rush through, skip any numbers, or bring your arms down, I will make you start over."

...He should've known Alastor wouldn't make this easy. Alastor never made anything easy. The man loved to watch Vincent squirm.

Vincent's heart leapt to his throat when he felt Alastor's index fingers rest on his lower ribs.

That's when his brain finally went from 'Alastor Alastor Alastor' to the realization that he was about to be tickled half to death. Maybe even three-quarters.

"Start whenever you're ready." Came that cotton-soft purr.

After taking a moment to remember how counting worked he closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay... Um, Fourte-EEHEHEHEHEEEEEN! AIIEEE!" All the air in Vincent's chest was yanked out of him as his nerves buzzed to life, Alastor's dextrous fingers rapidly pressing and poking on the happy little nerves. Fuck fuck FUCK he forgot how ticklish he was there! The last of his air was expended with a near glass-shattering shriek before he was able to wheeze some air back into his lungs and start his laughter all over again. His socked feet rapidly kicked and drummed on the bed and the muscles in his arms tensed with an overwhelming need to rush down and protect his sensitive ribs.

"Come now, Vincent, don't keep me waiting!" Alastor's voice sounded remarkably jovial. One look to his expression showed how delighted he was to be tormenting him.

"THII- THIRR- AHA! THIRTEHEHEHEEEEEN! TW- TWEHEHEL- SHIT!"

Right in the middle of 'twelve' Alastor began squeezing his bottom ribs in tandem. His arms, at that point, stopped caring about the challenge against Vincent's wishes and slammed down on Alastor's hands.

His fingers did, in fact, stop their torment, but it was nowhere near a relief.

"Really? So soon? How disappointing. You truly must be horribly sensitive. Well, you know the rules! Arms up, start from fourteen again."

Alastor sounded anything BUT disappointed. He tapped his index finger to Vincent's rib again. The man squeaked remarkably high-pitched before letting out a humiliatingly goofy little giggle that had him flush a light pink.

Alastor's devious little grin quirked to the side to something clearly amused but trying to suppress it.

Vincent plopped his head back and giggled a bit more, feeling equally giddy and dreadful, as he raised his arms above his head once more.

He took a couple deep breaths, trying to calm down and stop laughing before he even got tickled, but every time he tried to focus his mind would remind him blaringly loud that he was about to be tickled to an intense degree once again. His ribs would practically light up and he'd start giggling all over again.

God this was embarrassing. He raised his head a bit to look at his tormentor.

Alastor's grin was wide, bright, wholly amused. His eyes practically twinkled and he was chewing on the side of his lip.

It wasn't funny. It was cute, but not particularly funny.

Didn't stop Vincent from cracking up anyway.

"Pffft- Psh- Pfftahahaha!" He threw his head back and laughed. This was so ridiculous. So silly.

So fucking FUN.

It was exactly what he needed after today.

"I'm nohot eheven doing ahahahanything yohohou- pfft- yohohou dohoholt!"

Alastor held the back of his hand to his mouth, once eye nearly shut as his smile took up more space across his gorgeous face as he chuckled right along with Vincent.

"Ahahal! Ihihit's thehe ahahanticipation!" He half-heartedly defended himself amongst contagious little titters.

"Just start already!" Alastor playfully snapped, no ire or aggression in his voice.

Fuck it, just jump into the deep end!

"FohohourtEEHEHEHEHEEN! ACK! AIEEHEHE! TH-THIRTEEHEHEHEEN! EEE! T-TWEHEHEHEHELVE!"

His poor lower ribs were going to disintegrate at this rate from the maddeningly ticklish poking and prodding. Vincent forced himself to look at Alastor whilst his body commanded him to curl up and close his eyes. He's glad he didn't listen. Alastor was still beaming, now biting his bottom lip, and his shoulders shook with repressed laughs.

For a moment he forget what came before twelve.

And his memory lapse was made worse by Alastor once again switching to a squeezing tactic.

"FUHUCK! IHIH- AHAHA DAHAHAMMIT!"

His arms flinched but he succeeded in not yanking them down.

"SHIT! AIIEHEHE! E-EHEHEHELEHEHEVEN! EEE! TEHEHEHEN!"

Vincent managed to force another deep wheezy breath of air.

"NIHIHINE! EEE! EHEHEHEIGHT!"

If he could stop squeaking like a mouse attempting to sing falsetto that would be fucking fantastic.

But, hey, if it made Alastor look like THAT? Beaming hugely and genuinely and fighting off laughter of his own? Maybe it was worth the humiliation.

"SEHEHEHEVEN!"

"Halfway there! Don't choke now..."

Halfway? It felt like he'd been there for an hour!

Alastor was doing a remarkable job of keeping steady despite Vincent thrashing and wriggling like a fish on a hook.

Alastor's fingers stopped their squeezing and switched to massaging little circles into the bones.

And Vincent was sure he'd perish right then and there because holy fucking shit that tickled so unbelievably bad.

And his monumental squeal absolutely let Alastor know that fact.

"Ohoho! I do remember this technique being awfully effective here..."

For a moment, every muscle in Vincent's body was taut as he cackled with every bit of oxygen he possessed.

Another wheezy gasp, a moment of hyperventilation, and more high-pitched fully body laughter.

Count! Fucking count goddamit!

"SIHIHIHIX! F-FIIIIIIIHIHIHIVE! AHACK! F-FOHOHOHOHOUR!"

Holy shit he might pass out at this rate.

"THREEEEEHEHEHEHEE!"

The circle rubbing stopped, replaced with squeezing with one hand and scribbling on the other.

His arms tensed and dropped... just a couple inches.

Oh, if they had dropped all the way Vincent might've combusted on the spot.

"You're so close..." That sugar sweet voice cooed above him.

"TWOOHOHOHOHO! EE! AIEEE! OHOHOHOHONE!"

The moment Alastor stilled his fingers Vincent's arms rocketed down to his sides, desperately pressing and rubbing against his ribs to rid himself of the phantom sensations still clinging to his tingling nerves.

He gasped, panted for air like a man half-drowned.

"Well. That was a pleasant warm-up!"

Vincent's heart stopped for a moment before he laid slack in defeat. He had said warm-up in the beginning hadn't he?

Alastor chuckled, no doubt amused by his reaction to the reminder.

"Just..." Vincent took another breath. "No more ribs, please?"

He knew making a request to Alastor was about as reliable as asking a bird not to fly, but it was worth a shot.

"Why?" Alastor cocked his head to the side with a cocky grin. "Do you have a specific spot in mind you're wanting me to target?"

He stiffened, his mind supplying him with an immediate answer. Yes. The answer was yes.... but knowing Alastor's desire to torment him... he probably wouldn't go for it. Also it was just really embarrassing to admit that he really really wanted to be tickled in a specific spot...

No. He'll table that for another day. Instead he just opened his mouth like a fish and closed it.

"Hm..." Alastor hummed with a knowing grin, making a show of contemplation. "Perhaps we can make a little deal. You tell me your worst spot and let me play with it for, oh, sixty seconds, and then I'll target the spot you're so clearly thinking about right now for a couple minutes or so, depending on how much it amuses me."

Oh that was a dangerous deal. Sure, sixty seconds at his worst spot in order to be tickled at his favorite spot sounded great, but that meant Alastor would forever know weakness and it did not at all guarantee he'd ever pay attention to the easier spot ever again.

Though, honestly? Vincent wouldn't admit it out loud, but he loved being tickled so much that he'd be fine with that, as long as Alastor kept touching him and making him laugh.

"Sound fair?" Alastor asked, prodding for an answer to his proposal.

"Not at all," Vincent answered with a tired lopsided grin. "But I accept anyways."

Alastor laughed, amused by his answer. "Understandable. Now, the information?"

Vincent threw his head back and closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "My favorite spot is my sides. My worst spot..." His self-preservation instincts, as miniscule as they were, tried to stop him, but Vincent didn't listen, just like every other time they made themselves known. "My pits."

As he expected, he almost immediately felt the presence of a finger at his underarm. His entire body jolted, his smile immediately flipped to a nervous grin, and his eyes shot open.

A warm dangerous chuckle. "My, my, you weren't kidding. Now, the deal was sixty seconds."

Cold dread doused him head to toe. "Oh, do NOT make me count, PLEASE, Al-"

Alastor laughed loudly. "Oh, alright, fine. I'll keep count in my head. Now keep your arms-"

"Oh, God-!"

He couldn't do this again.

Vincent grabbed his belt buckle and began undoing it. Before Alastor could get any ideas Vincent started explaining himself. "Just, fucking, tie my hands to the headboard with my belt, there's no way on Earth I'm gonna be able to keep them up on my own."

The sound of Alastor's resulting laugh, not the perfect mocking laugh, a huffy giggly laugh born from amusement rather than schadenfreude, made Vincent smile while he slid his belt from the loops of his pants.

He practically slammed his hands against the posts of the headboard with the belt now laid against his chest.

He was grateful now that he had a headboard with posts instead of one solid slab of wood, because that meant the belt could be easily looped through it for simple bindings.

Bindings...

Wait.

Alastor was straddling his waist and now he was binding his wrists to the headboard while staring down at him with those pretty eyes-

Fuck what did he just do? If anyone saw them like this... he wouldn't blame them for thinking they were about to... y'know...!

Thank God he invested in blackout curtains. It was originally to hide any evidence of the whole serial killer thing, but this was also very necessary to hide.

If Vincent had heard of another man doing this he would obviously assume they're a queer but Vincent... he wasn't- it's not like he... Alastor was just a pretty man but normal men can appreciate other men's attractiveness without being queer!

His spiraling thoughts were zapped away by two simultaneous pokes to his underarms. He squealed like a dying squirrel yet again, eliciting an amused chuckle from Alastor.

Honestly? He was welcome for the distraction. The belt was now firmly wrapped around his wrists and keeping them above his head while his nerves were ready and receptive for the delicious torture they were about to receive.

"I'll count to sixty in my head. Are you ready?" Alastor lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers.

The deadly cocktail of freezing cold dread and warm bubbly mirth brewed in his belly as he nodded.

And that cocktail ignited into explosive laughter the moment Alastor began wiggling all ten fingers into hyper-sensitive pits.

"PFFTAAAHAHAHA- AAEEEEEHAHAHA! A-AHAHAHALAHAHAHASTOHOHOHOHOR!" He positively wailed.

His back arched as he threw his head back hard into the mattress, the belt buckle jingled and clinked from the frantic tugging, and his feet were practically stampeding over the blankets behind his tormentor.

His entire frame quaked with each booming laugh and hilarious squeak, leaving him an absolute wreck of laughter and mirth.

Beyond his own cacophony he soon heard Alastor's laugh intertwining with his own.

He wished he could enjoy it more but every cell in his brain could only form one thought:

"IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES! AHAHA- IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SOHOHO BAHAHAHAD! EEK!"

"Ihihihi cahahahan tehehehell! Yohohou- snrk- yohohou sohohound sohoho hihilahaharious! Ahaha!"

It was somehow familiar, a mirror of that night where they made the deal. Alastor over Vincent, tickling him to pieces, while the two of them laughed their hearts out.

Though, they couldn't blame it on alcohol this time. It was a very deliberate choice from both parties to end up like this.

It was perfectly worth it in Vincent's mind. Sure he was exhausted and occasionally felt like he couldn't breathe, but it paled in comparison to the overwhelming joy and fulfillment of laughing so hard mixed with the companionship and closeness of this activity with his dear business partner.

'Business partner' seemed too flat a label now, didn't it?

Whether it was because Alastor ended the count or because Vincent's laughs were occasionally going silent, he relented. He lifted his hands and placed them on the bed either side of his body.

Every muscle that Vincent possessed went slack immediately. He sank into the mattress, utterly exhausted. His chest rapidly rose and fell with each greedy breath he took.

"Holy shit... any longer and I might've fainted."

Alastor laughed openly once again.

Vincent let out an 'OOPH' as Alastor laid down abruptly, head resting on his arms laid across Vincent's chest, staring him directly in the face with an unusually happy smile.

"Your ears are red again," he snickered.

Vincent looked to the side, partially hiding his face in his shoulder. Yes, sue him, he was a bit hot under the collar. Could you blame him? Alastor was literally laid on top of him with their faces less than 6 inches apart.

Alastor just wasn't a touchy person. He typically flinched away from stuff as simple as a squeeze on the shoulder. It was a point of tension early on in their partnership. Vincent was a touchy kind of guy. It was great for building rapport early with people so he'd kind of adapted it that way, but he also just liked some friendly contact.

So this? THIS? It was completely unexpected in the best possible way.

His eyes darted back to Alastor. Specifically his lips. A similar shade to the rest of his skin but with a gentle tinge of pink. Lightly parted. Rather large and soft looking...

What was he thinking?! No. No! Those were not normal thoughts.

He was just... it was... It just-

Another squeal broke the silence as Alastor slid a finger across his side. His grin was satisfied and content.

"This was your requested spot, wasn't it?" He asked so innocently with an expression that was anything but.

Oh Lord help him, he could not be tickled there while Alastor stared at him like this...

Alastor rested his chin directly on Vincent's chest while his hands went to work gently skittering fingers up and down his sides.

Vincent didn't even notice the whimper he let out as he melted into the mattress. The pathetic little sound was quickly eaten up by a steady stream of high-pitched giggling as his eyelids fluttered.

Alastor blinked at him in surprise. "You seem to really enjoy this." His tone held no judgement, only curiosity.

Vincent nodded lazily and lolled his head to the side. his brain practically melting out his ears.

"Fascinating." He purred softly. As far as Vincent could tell in his less-than-alert state, Alastor didn't seem to be plotting, simply absorbing what was happening. "What's it like?"

"Ihihihit tihihickles..." Vincent huffed out a few more small fits of relaxed giggles. "Feeheheheels good."

Alastor didn't respond. He simply watched with an easy smile.

Vincent was fine with that. His head was in the clouds. He couldn't remember a time he was this happy. It wasn't just because of the tickles, though that was a factor.

It was Alastor. A man he admired so deeply and wholly, a man so capable and cruel, a man so dangerous and unpredictable... laying here with him. On TOP of him. Those eyes, that smile, that laugh... All of it here. With him.

This whole thing at first seemed to be solely so he could torture, cause as much pain and discomfort as possible.

But that wasn't what was happening. Alastor never treated victims like this. Giving into pleading, asking them questions, watching with such soft and curious eyes.

Vincent would have more luck guessing how many blades of grass on the planet than what was going on in Alastor's head at any given moment.

But right here. Right now?

This wasn't sadism. It was something else.

Vincent knew what he hoped it was.

Care. Friendship. Endearment. All things Vincent felt about him but was sure weren't reciprocated.

Whatever the Hell was going through that man's head... Vincent appreciated it and wanted to savor it.

Alastor's fingers danced lazily over his sides. The touch was gentle and careless, simply a mindless motion with all his focus on Vincent's reactions.

More giggles and squeaks poured from his slack expression, shaded lightly pink and positively glowing in satisfaction and peace.

Leaving his little place in the clouds was gradual rather than abrupt. He hardly noticed the lack of touch until Alastor was already shifting to leave the bed.

"Well, I found that delightfully rejuvenating." He said as he stretched. "As I'm sure you did as well."

"Mm? We done?" Vincent firmly blinked his eyes to quickly get his head back on his shoulders.

"I assume you do want dinner do you not?"

"Uh- yeah? I was just gonna heat up some soup-"

"Ugh. You eat like an animal." Alastor quickly leaned over Vincent to undo his belt and tossed it onto his stomach. "I've noticed you keep your kitchen bare of anything with flavor. If I'm going to keep coming over here that needs to change. Put your belt back on. You're driving us to the grocery store so I can tell you exactly what to buy and keep stocked."

Vincent snickered. There's the bossy Alastor he remembered. He sat up resting on his elbows with a relaxed smile, still a tad hazy.

"I'm not exactly a chef, Al, so I'm not sure-"

He was cut off AGAIN while Alastor briskly walked out of the room. Vincent quickly hopped off the bed and followed as he slid his belt back into place and buckled it.

"I'll teach you how to cook eventually. For now, I just want to have actual ingredients to work with if things get sticky out there again. I had to cook scrambled eggs with salt and pepper and nothing else. That was an insult."

"The eggs were great, Al! Better than what I can make."

Alastor turned to him like he had grown a second head.

"You thought barely seasoned scrambled eggs were great? And they were BETTER than what you can make?"

"Yeah, like I said, I'm not a chef."

A firm smack to the back of the head. "That's not chef level, you dimwit!"

"Ow." Vincent answered simply. Then he blinked and smiled. "Wait. You said you wanna teach me?"

Alastor grumbled as he started putting his shoes on, which Vincent immediately copied with his own. "I'm not going to have my associate eating like a stray dog unable to provide himself with even a basic meal. If I was able to teach you how to cut up a body I'm sure I can teach you how to cook gumbo." He adjusted his shirt, looked to Vincent's belt, then met his eyes. "Now. Car. You're going to eat actual food tonight."

"How could I say no to that gracious offer?" He chuckled and held the front door open.

"You can't." He answered simply.

---

Alastor typically avoided using cars if he could. In his mind, nothing could beat the nostalgic trotting of a horse drawn carriage. The new roads being built were all tailored to these metal monstrosities that just took up way too much space. They were loud, massive, and smelled terrible.

Vincent, however, loved to brag about his car every chance he could get. 'A new model with all the bells and whistles', he'd claim proudly.

Just another hunk of metal in Alastor's eyes.

Begrudgingly, though, it had its perks.

A mode of transportation owned by the individual, something that can store larger items to be transported, and something able to trek across long distances the carriages couldn't keep up with.

If the machines didn't have those redeeming qualities he would've insisted they walk to the store on foot.

As he slid into the passenger seat and fiddled with his seat buckle, he cast his gaze to his business partner who was still a bit flushed. His smile twitched upwards at the sight.

The ease of which that man blushed to the tips of his ears should not be as adorable as it was.

God listen to him. 'Adorable'. Disgustingly juvenile and pathetic.

He had planned to keep their little session going longer than it had. He had only been torturing him for, what, ten minutes?

But when he attacked his sides, the way Vincent just melted... He was slack, relaxed, still giggling so sweetly. Alastor had laid on top of him, feeling the vibration and depth of every chuckle through his own body.

His laugh was so contagious and endearing... it made his heart flutter in his chest, to the point he had a brief moment of a possible medical concern over heart murmurs.

But no. It was not a medical concern.

It was... Feelings.

Feelings he'd never experienced before.

They repulsed him, or at least they should. Vincent was his business partner.

Well... that didn't exactly encapsulate it did it? This whole thing they had going on was anything BUT business.

He was much more than that, much more than an acquaintance, and that terrified him.

When they had been laying there, that concern had hit him like a bullet and he'd quickly made an excuse to stop for the time being.

He had to figure out what this was, what he was experiencing.

He looked over at Vincent as he drove them to his preferred supermarket.

What was he to him?

Alastor settled his head back on the headrest.

His radio station still wouldn't be fully fumigated for 5 days. During those 5 days, he's not getting paid.

Alastor loved his alone time but above all he was a performer. He needed an audience. He needed entertainment. He needed stimulation.

When he first heard about his required absence from work, he looked into performing at the jazz club he frequented but found that they were all booked up on performances for the week.

To put it simple: He was bored. Extremely.

And the man beside him was the most entertaining individual he'd met possibly his entire life.

“So,” Vincent ripped Alastor from his inner monologue rather abruptly as he kept his eyes on the road. “I was thinking about a possible hit. That guy who works the talk shows… He takes morning strolls through Mulberry Park every Thursday. Not a super busy place, plus its got a lot of trees and shade to keep cover."

The tone of his voice told Alastor that Vincent had been pondering this for some time and was nervous about bringing it up. "Hm. I'm not against it, but do tell me why you're interested in killing that fellow in particular?"

"He's an arrogant bastard, that's why. He has all this attention and flaunts it constantly. Plus, if he's out of the picture I can easily take his place. I've got the charisma for it. The voice, the smile, the image, everything! Ah, imagine it, Al! Friday Night with Vincent Whittman!"

Alastor smiled widely listening to Vincent. He loved this about him. His ambition, his desire to perform and be seen. That was something the two of them shared besides homicide. Both of them needed an audience and to perform. It was in their nature, in their blood.

Vincent flicked his eyes over and nervously added on, "It also comes with a significant pay increase if, well, WHEN I land it. And it, uh, helps to have a partner who makes a lot! I'll be able to afford more food to keep stock and, like, uh, weapons or... whatever."

Amusing. He was trying to appeal to Alastor's own selfish desires as a reason to go on the kill with him.

Though Alastor would never tell him, Vincent was entirely capable on his own. He could easily mow down anyone in that studio by himself.

But Alastor was his audience. He needed him, not to aid him, but to witness him.

Murder was an awfully private business for someone so desperate to be seen.

Alastor had been ready to accept the offer from the very first sentence, but who would he be if he didn't milk this a little further?

"If I help you on the kill and you DO land that job, you'll be getting quite a lot of perks for something we both accomplished. I suppose if you toss an itty bitty portion of that paycheck into nice groceries that I can cook with... I see no reason as to not help you out." His voice took on that slight cooing quality. It was condescending yet also appealing to Vincent's need to please him.

"Yeah, no problem! I can definitely do that."

He was so easy.

"You said Thursday, didn't you? That's the day after tomorrow."

Vincent suddenly looked a bit shy. "Yeah! I know that's real soon, so, uh, to make things easier you could, if you want, stay over until then? So just like... tonight and tomorrow night."

Alastor raised an eyebrow, spotting an opportunity along with that light twinge of pink over his ears again.

"You mentioned making things easier... that's a good point." He hummed in thought. "My workplace won't finish fumigation until Monday. That's three weekdays I'm not being paid and don't have anywhere specific to be the majority of the day." He turned and smiled oh-so-innocently. "For simplicity's sake it makes sense for me to stay at your home for those 5 days."

Vincent perked up with sparkling eyes. "Stay with- with me? At my house? For 5 days?"

"Yes. I know I've stayed overnight here and there, like when my calf was injured, and 5 nights of me staying with you is quite a leap-"

He eagerly interrupted, stumbling over his words a bit, as if Alastor would talk himself out of it if he let him. "No- I-I'm happy to have you, Al! That's perfect!"

"It's beneficial to us both. Easier planning and mobilization for the hit, you learn to cook and eat decent meals for once in your life, AND," Alastor held up his hand with his fingers in a claw formation. "we make further use of this little arrangement."

It was almost impressive how fast Vincent's soft smile switched to a nervous giddy grin.

"H-Hey! Not while I'm driving!"

Alastor laughed. "Oh, relax, Vincent. I'm not stupid enough to put our lives at risk just to hear you squeal."

The man let out a goofy-sounding giggle and conveniently at that moment decided to check his left side mirror and turned away from Alastor's smug grin.

After a longer-then-normal mirror check he rolled his shoulders back and resumed conversation. "Sooooo... What exactly are you having me buy?"

"Quite a few things, actually." Alastor answered immediately. "I took a mental catalogue of everything in your kitchen which was remarkably easy since it mostly consists of absolutely nothing."

"Yeah I've never really cooked much. i just keep enough food around to keep me fed and then pick up fast food on the days i don't feel like eating it."

Alastor's jaw clenched, clear agitation seeping into his voice. "Cuisine is a rich part of New Orleans. Everywhere you look you can find exquisite food made with love by people who put genuine care and effort into everything they make. For you to live here and just eat canned soup and unseasoned scrambled eggs is revolting the say the least."

"Pfft. Yeah, sure. You some kind of food critic?" His tone was annoyingly flippant.

"Even better. I'm a man who actually appreciates the art of cooking. I'll teach you something relatively simple tonight. Gumbo."

"Don't think I've ever had gumbo."

Alastor's eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Never had-? How long have you lived here?!"

"About a decade or so? Moved here in my 20s, so..."

"A DECADE in New Orleans and you've never had gumbo?"

"God, Al, you're acting like I've never lived before."

"Because you HAVEN'T if you've never had a proper southern meal. Some time this week i should give you the full experience. When I was young, my maman and i would take trips to the creek and go crawfishing. she'd check the traps and I'd take some bait, put it on some hook on a fishing string, and fish up crawfish from muddy part of the ditch. They're tiny, easy to catch, and delicious."

Alastor rested his elbow on the passenger door, watching the city pass by as they drove. Memories he rarely indulged in flowed easily through his mind and trickled off his tongue.

"We weren't the wealthiest family, but thankfully there's no charge if ya fish 'em up yourself. Oh, we'd make a day of it! Out to the bayou in our rickety old boat. Maman checking the traps while I kept an eye out for cottonmouths. Aggressive little buggers. Catching catfish, crawfish, frogs-"

"Frogs? you ate frogs?"

Alastor turned with a genuine smile that met the corners of his eyes. "Of course! Frog legs are absolutely delicious. Battered and fried!"

He turned his attention back around as they passed an old church he used to frequent.

"Hm... We'd drag our haul back to our cabin and get to cooking. I'd help however I could even when I was barely tall enough to see over the counter, haha! I'd cut veggies, bread the meats, measure the seasonings... Cooking is a labor of love. It's love for those you're serving, and those you're doing it with, and love for the food you're making as well. To think it a chore is an insult."

"...Wow, Al." Vincent's voice was unusually soft and gentle. "You don't talk about the past a lot, but... I'm glad you are. It's nice to hear. Your maman sounds great."

After a moment. "She was."

He responded with a simple acknowledging hum, which Alastor appreciated.

"I still keep up the ol' habits today," he continued a bit softer, looking towards Vincent again. "I got some hoop nets out in the bayou right now. I'll check 'em tonight."

His business partner raised an eyebrow at him. "I've never heard you speak like that before."

Alastor blinked, pondering what he meant, when he realized. His old cajun accent slipped out. Though it was a piece of how he grew up and how the people around him talked, it wasn't looked very highly upon, especially by the people in charge of hiring talent. He'd worked hard over his young adult life to adapt a more 'yankee' way of speaking as his father would've called it. His efforts did end up paying off. The studio he currently worked with would never had hired him if he still sounded like that young boy in the swamp, setting traps, picking berries, and giggin' frogs just to survive.

Though he hadn't known it was to survive. His maman did a great job making everything fun. She was wonderful like that.

He forcefully cleared his throat and mentally reset, changing back into his everyday speaking voice, the one Vincent, and the world, was familiar with.

"Well, that's all in the past! If there's shellfish on sale at the store today, grab it. We'll-"

"Doesn't matter if it's on sale or not. We'll grab it anyway."

Alastor looked at Vincent with a raised brow. "I know you don't cook, but meat can be pricey."

"I don't care." He said with intense decidedness. "You're... you're doing a lot. You're sharing something meaningful to you. Plus, I'm not the one who's out of their job for a week. I can afford it. No big deal." He shrugged and tilted his head with an easy smile.

Alastor returned it. "Well, alright then! We'll make a proper seafood gumbo tonight! Onions, shellfish, cayenne!"

"Cayenne? Is that spicy?"

Way to take all the wind out of his sails.

Alastor shot him a deadpan look. "Yes. That is how gumbo is supposed to taste."

Vincent wore a rather unfortunate grimace. "I'm, uh... not really a fan of spicy."

Eyeroll of the century. "Ugh. Typical white man."

"I'm sorry! I just don't like food that's painful!"

"I've watched you take a fist to the skull then get up and throw a harder punch right back!"

"That doesnt mean i want to EAT a punch to the skull!"

Alastor let out what he thought was a perfectly appropriate groan for the situation, that being loud and dramatic, before relenting. "Fine. Can't expect a stray to go from scraps to gourmet in one night. We'll make a version more to your tastes and I'll add some cayenne powder to my portions."

"Thank you, Al. I know food means a lot to you, clearly, so, uh... thank you."

...

Alastor had bitten off more than he could chew.

He knew Vincent didn't cook. What surprised him was that it seemed like he had never even stepped foot in a kitchen before despite owning a rather large one! The only clue that he knew how to navigate it was that he seemed to know where to put at least half the groceries they had purchased and brought home.

'What's a skillet?', 'What does brown the meat mean?', 'Is a tablespoon bigger than a teaspoon?', 'What do you mean 'the wrong way to chop and onion', there's a right way?!'

Honestly Alastor should've been given an award for not killing him for being a complete and utter insult to the culinary arts.

The relief when the food was finished was immense, not just from hunger, but for being released from his torment of teaching Vincent basic life skills.

They sat down at the table which Alastor had set prior. Vincent looked positively starry-eyed looking at his bowl. It wasn't up to Alastor's usual standards for gumbo, those standards being that it had some kick to it, but it was still no doubt delicious.

Onion, celery, bell pepper, shrimp, crab, and a variety of seasonings, all poured over rice, hot and steaming.

"Go on, then." Alastor said as he gently peppered some cayenne powder into his own bowl.

Vincent nodded, made a perfect spoonful of rice, meat, and sauce, blew on it, and put it in his mouth.

His eyes widened, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Perfect. Just the reaction Alastor was looking for.

"Oh my God!" Vincent said after he swallowed. He immediately plunged his spoon back in the bowl. "This is incredible!" He eagerly shoved another bite in his mouth, groaning in delight at the flavor.

Ah. The warmth and satisfaction from a homecooked meal.

"I'm glad you enjoy it." Alastor said truthfully. He took a bite of his. Certainly good, but not so that it would pull such a reaction from HIM. Vincent truly had no grasp on cuisine if this dish alone would make him sound like he was starring in an adult film.

The man across from him groaned again, having taken a bite of one of the shrimp. "Holy shit."

"Don't speak with your mouth full. Have some class." Alastor scolded mildly, finding amusement from Vincent's sheepish smile in response.

He swallowed and wiped his messy chin with a napkin. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Alastor waved him off and continued eating.

Honestly, Vincent's reactions were that of a child who's eaten nothing but porridge their entire life.

It was baffling... and sort of endearing, to have his lessons and cooking appreciated so heavily.

Alastor knew when people were pretending to listen. Vincent had not been pretending. He listened to every bit of Alastor's instructions like they were the solution to all his problems. Though, to be fair, they were actually a solution to a major problem in his life, that being that he barely kept himself from starving.

No, he held onto every word. He did his best. His best, of course, was lacking at times, but the point was that he continued.

Alastor's efforts were not wasted. The man WOULD learn. It would simply take time.

The clinking of a spoon repeatedly meeting the bottom of the bowl announced Vincent's finishing before he did. He scooped one last small bit of food into his mouth before standing, no doubt to give himself second helpings from the remainder of the food left in the pot sitting on the unlit stove.

His clumsy move however, nearly slid the bowl off the table. He caught it before it could shatter, but not without spilling some of the sauce all over his shirt.

"Vincent!" Alastor shouted, mildly irritated that he'd make such a klutzy move.

"Shit, my shirt- dammit!"

Without another word, Vincent grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it over his head. He shoved the bowl back onto the table and draped the shirt in his hand.

"Goddamn, that's hot." He muttered as he grabbed the table napkin to wipe down his abdomen.

Alastor blinked.

He knew Vincent was strong. It was one of the reasons they had become partners.

But... how did a man who barely ate anything of nutritional value end up like THAT?

Alastor was aware of... traditional beauty standards. The ladies tended to favor men with clear muscle mass and definition.

Vincent would fit that bill. His exercise routine was not in vain. And most likely due to the fact he didn't eat properly, he had very little fat on his body to hide it.

To put it bluntly: he was muscular. Obviously so. Thick arms, enlarged pecs, defined abs...

Suddenly Alastor couldn't help but imagine the feats of strength Vincent could possibly accomplish looking like that. He had picked him up and carried him like he was nothing more than a hand purse when he had injured his leg.

Something deep within him brought to mind images of sinking his teeth into that muscle. Strange. He would typically attribute thoughts of that nature to his cannibalism but... he didn't desire to kill or eat Vincent.

Still... to bite down on those thick muscle. To squeeze them. Put his hands on them.

It was strange. Bafflingly so. He'd never had any semblance of interest in another person's body unless that body was already dead.

He'd always known logically Vincent had to be more muscular than him. But he'd never seen it.

And also, to be fair, he hadn't become anywhere near this close with the man until relatively recently. Perhaps it was something about the fact that he'd let Vincent get closer to him. Six months ago he most likely would've turned around as soon as he had realized the shirt was off.

Something had definitely changed. His eyes had still not left the image in front of him.

Vincent, meanwhile, had finished wiping the sauce off his skin a moment or two ago.

Now, he was met with something so unbelievable.

Alastor was staring. That wasn't unusual in and of itself. The man often stared when he was thinking, usually of some new way to make Vincent squirm or sweat.

But this wasn't that kind of staring. Alastor always turned to give him privacy when he needed to undress even in the most mild of ways. Perhaps he hadn't given enough warning for him to do so.

And now, Alastor was staring, pupils dilated, face flushed.

Alastor's darker complexion made it harder to tell but the red was undeniable.

Alastor was ogling him.

Alastor. Was. Ogling. Him.

The pride that washed over him could rival that of the Devil's. He was pretty sure his ego would never shrink again. Alastor. THE. ALASTOR. Was looking at him like something out of a dirty magazine.

There was not a snowball's chance in Hell he could've stopped the beaming grin that spread over his face.

And still. Alastor didn't notice.

He was pretty sure he was going to regret this, but he was positive he'd never get this chance again.

"You enjoying the view?" What would normally be said with suave confidence instead was said with so much eagerness that his voice cracked at the end. Dammit.

It was instantly worth it, though. Alastor startled, met his eyes, and his face burned such an intense red hue that Vincent hadn't even thought it could reach. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened slightly.

For a moment he looked completely and utterly shocked with himself.

Then in an instant he whipped his chair around with a loud creek and faced the wall with his arms crossed.

"I was just waiting for you to cover yourself up and have some decency!" He snapped entirely too loud.

Vincent snorted and giggled, stupidly happy with himself. Alastor was so obviously embarrassed that his excuse didn't even make sense.

God, red was a good color on him.

Vincent walked over with newfound confidence, leaning on the table directly behind Alastor with a teasing voice. "Aaaaal. Look at me~"

Alastor could barely hear Vincent over the sound of his own pounding heart rate. What was happening to him? Why did he keep feeling these things he'd never felt before? Why was his heart hammering in his chest? Why was his face blushing so hard that he could feel the veins in his cheeks throbbing with each pulse of his heart?

When he felt Vincent lean close to his side he launched his hand out with precision to somewhere he knew would throw Vincent off this new shtick of his, his underarm, and squeezed.

His plan worked in the worst way possible. Vincent squealed, clamped his arm down on Alastor's hand, and fell backwards, his firm arm placement yanking Alastor down with him and out of his chair.

In mere seconds Alastor's world was flipped, so much so that his mind took a moment to process.

Vincent was laid on his back on the tile floor.

With Alastor laid on top of him, cheek resting on his left pec.

Such a radical change in position and contact had his head reeling, and to his horror, there was a very small part in the back of his brain letting its opinions be very well known.

That awful weird part of him... was thrilled about the position.

He could smell him. He always could smell his cologne, something rich and classy, but this was something deeper. Every human had a natural aroma, a combination of human pheromones and sweat. That specific smell of Vincent's was now filling Alastor's head.

A warm natural musk that fogged his thinking filled his every breath.

That part of his brain again and its asinine suggestions to... put his face in his chest?

To bury his face between his pe-

"You- uh- okay, Al?" He could feel the deep rumble of his voice, a voice substantially deeper than Alastor's own.

Alastor stood up so fast he almost got whiplash and looked the complete opposite way, that being directly at the wall.

"I'm fine! Completely fine! Now, go put on a shirt! NOW!"

He could only imagine what Vincent was thinking. Well, no, actually, he couldn't even do that. This situation was so entirely out of his depth he hadn't the foggiest idea what Vincent would think about the situation.

Alastor didn't like touch. The only touch he had ever remotely enjoyed was from his maman when he was young. After her death, he despised contact from other humans, though he tolerated some to keep up appearances.

The first few months of working with Vincent had been irritating for a number of reasons, but one was that Vincent always putting his hands on his shoulders or arms. He damn near bit his finger off at one point. The man had thankfully gotten the message and stopped most contact along the way.

But recently Vincent's touch hadn't been triggering that familiar repulsion and deep discomfort. And just then... laying on him... their entire bodies had been touching with Vincent's whole torso bare.

It was shocking and deeply inappropriate, not to mention awkward.

But something nagging in the back of his mind yelled much too loudly a wildly contrasting opinion.

He'd have to find that part of his brain and eviscerate it as soon as he could.

"Sure, yeah, I'll, uh- go change."

Alastor heard him shuffle off and sighed in relief. His mind was bouncing off the walls of his skull trying to think and analyze and pick apart everything. It was giving him a headache.

He shot a look to the clock.

Oh, to Hell with it. It was already late and it's not like he had to work tomorrow. He could use a drink to take the edge off and to get his head off this whole spiral for the time being.

When Vincent came back, now dressed in a simple short sleeved button up, he found Alastor going through his liquor cabinet.

"Yeah, sorry, I haven't replaced the last bottle of whiskey you drank." He rubbed the back of his neck and approached the cabinet next to him. "Do you typically drink anything else?"

"If I'm drinking and I can't have whiskey that usually means I'm at a speakeasy that only serves cocktails or the like."

"Oh, I got some stuff to make cocktails!" Vincent opened up the fridge and pulled out a carton of orange juice. "I could make you a screwdriver? Got the perfect vodka for it, too."

"I'm not typically a fan of vodka."

"Oh, me neither. Tastes awful. I don't know how some people drink it straight." Vincent talked as he pulled out a rather tall glass and a mostly full bottle of vodka. "But screwdrivers are pretty good." He reached into a drawer and pulled out a spoon to stir. After the concoction was poured and blended into one continuous color he handed it to Alastor.

He took a quick sip, letting the flavor settle on his tongue as he pondered. "Mm. Not bad. You actually can't taste the vodka that much."

"Yeah, super simple and easy." Vincent put everything to the side and pulled out his typical spiced gin. "I got work tomorrow so I don't want to accidentally overdo it. I'll have one drink. But you go to town, Al. Drink me outta liquor if you want. You earned it for teaching me how to make that." He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the pot of gumbo. "Speaking of which I'll probably have another serving."

After pouring himself a conservative amount of gin and taking a sip, he went and refilled his earlier bowl with still warm but significantly less steaming gumbo.

Vincent's heart was still bouncing around his chest from earlier. It was a confusing mix of feelings: excitement, apprehension, guilt, confusion, curiosity, hope...

He had felt Alastor's cheek on his chest and he didn't think he'd ever forget it.

The fall to the tile had hurt but nothing more than he'd already taken and recovered from, but all the discomfort of the fall had escaped him the moment he realized their shared position. Alastor's silence, red face, and unreadable smile had plunged Vincent into that confusing emotional whirlwind. Was he happy about what happened? Angry? Pissed? About to tear Vincent limb from limb for touching him like that? (Even though it was really Alastor touching him)

The way he had all but launched himself off the floor and spoken so firmly and high-pitched read to Vincent like he was flustered beyond belief, but he wasn't sure if that was his people-reading skills or hopeful heart.

With his job of being a news anchor he had to be very careful about drinking on weeknights, as much as he'd love to flood his frazzled nerves with some booze.

He eagerly dove into his second bowl of gumbo, eating quickly and happily. The flavor was amazing, he could hardly believed he helped make it! He'd never had shellfish before but the shrimp made him groan with delight, so juicy and coated with that delicious sauce. He was sure if he let himself he could polish off the whole pot, but he'd never forgive himself if he ate so much he hurled it back up. What a waste that'd be.

Alastor didn't get another serving but he quickly polished off his cocktail and made himself another. Vincent didn't mind. He could always afford more.

He took more time with this bowl, careful to listen to his stomach and not overfill it. Conversation flowed once again between the two killers, mostly details about their hit in a couple of days. By the time Vincent emptied his bowl and happily patted his satisfied belly, Alastor had gone through his second screwdriver and was on his way for a third.

They ended up moving to the living room where Vincent kept his radio. He originally didn't have one, not bothering to buy his own when he moved out of his parents' house, but getting close to Alastor had swayed him.

Alastor turned it on and set it to a station playing some old jazz tunes. He hummed and sipped his drink again, turning to the couch and settling down. Vincent could tell the alcohol was starting to take effect, with Alastor seeming more relaxed with a subtle flush of the cheeks.

Vincent's own drink had gently touched him with its spell, but that was about it. One gin was not enough to give him that delightful buzz Alastor seemed to be reaching quite quickly.

A little too quickly. It wasn't long before Alastor made himself a fourth, already seeming unusually out of sorts rather soon.

Alastor only really drank one brand of whiskey when they unwound together. He focused on remembering the details of the brand.

Then it clicked.

Alastor's preferred brand was on the lower side of strength for whiskey, only about 40% ABV, meanwhile he was pretty sure the vodka was somewhere around 70%.

Hesitantly, he made his concern known. "Hey, Al, I think that vodka might be a little strong. Maybe slow down a bit?"

Alastor's look was dismissive at best and pissed at worst, it was hard to tell with the permanent smile and tipsy demeanor. "Oh, come now. Are you forgetting who drank you under the table last time?"

Wait a minute. He had been drinking his favorite gin that night, which he knew very well was 48% ABV.

Al was drinking a weak brand. Vincent had actually drank more alcohol than him. Oh, if here a petty man he'd demand those 5 dollars back. No. Right now he needed to focus on making sure Alastor didn't get so drunk he collapsed.

"The whiskey you drink isn't very strong, that vodka is. Just... pace yourself maybe?"

Alastor rolled his eyes and begrudgingly acquiesced. "If you're that concerned, I'll let this be my last for now." He said before taking a gulp of his now fourth drink.

...

Running out of whiskey worked out perfectly for Vincent, because now he was witnessing Al fully juiced up. He'd never seen him like this before but God he wished he had.

Vincent had originally sat beside Al on the couch, leaving a good few inches of space between them as Alastor preferred.

Or at least he usually did, because after those screwdrivers fully hit, Al was leaning off his shoulder, their thighs squished together.

His forearm rested on the shoulder furthest from him while the rest of the appendage looped around the back of his neck, his head was leaned so close to Vincent he could smell the citrus on his breath.

"Th-then I- Haha! I said- I said, I-I, I said if you like it so hot, you, something like... you'll like it in Hell where you're going, AHAHA!" Alastor cracked up at his own barely coherent story and Vincent would swear he'd never been more gorgeous.

"Mm... Hell's gonna be ffffun. When we're in Hell, you'll still be there, right?" He slurred, his eyes just barely focusing on Vincent's face.

"Be... where?" He asked, a bit confused about what exactly Alastor was talking about.

"Y'know, around." He waved his hand in the air aimlessly. "Around me, followin' me... like a lil' dog."

Convinced he wouldn't remember any of this, Vincent answered honestly with his voice a little raw, "Alastor, I'd follow you anywhere."

Alastor giggled something so goofy and unrefined he likely would've been mortified if he were even half-sober. "Y'so cute."

Vincent blinked. "...Cute?"

"Never thought people were cute. Maybe like, I dunno, a kitten, I guess?" Alastor rested his forehead on Vincent's closest shoulder, hiding his expression from view. "You're weird. Different..."

Cute? Alastor thought he was cute? What kind of cute? Cute like 'he's nice to look at' or cute like 'he's so pathetic'? Honestly Vincent didn't even mind that much which one it was.

He squealed when he felt a clumsily ticklish squeeze to his ribs. Alastor giggled and cooed. "You're cute when you laaaaaaaugh."

Vincent grinned ear to ear and lightly grabbed Alastor's sides with a retaliatory squeeze, chuckling with delight at the loud snort it elicited as Alastor threw his head back and their eyes finally met.

"You're such a hypocrite," Vincent looked down at Alastor's dazed and dopey grin. "You're fucking adorable snorting your head off like a little piggy."

"I d'NOT SNORT!" Alastor snapped, only barely understandable.

Vincent chuckled. "You sure about that?" He didn't give him a chance to answer before skittering 5 fingers of one hand up and down his belly, just barely protected by his dress shirt.

"SNRK! HEHEHEY- PFFTAHA- SNRK! AHA- ST-STAHAH- SNRK- FAHAHA!" If Alastor was incoherent before, this was another level. His voice was a bunch of half-started words cut off with a vibrant array of snorting and cackling.

The shorter man wriggled around, most likely instinctive rather than an actual desire to escape. Even in Alastor's current state he could've easily just shoved Vincent away or rolled to the other side of the couch.

Instead, in his aimless wiggling and squirming, he pushed himself against the back of the couch, then shifted to the side, to the point that...

Alastor half-fell into Vincent's lap, his head braced on the top of Vincent's thigh.

Vincent's eyes blew wide open and his fingers halted in their place.

Alastor's head was about 3 inches from his crotch and he didn't even seem to care. In fact, Vincent wasn't sure he had even realized what had happened.

He looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded and smile soft and genuine. His face was that gorgeous crimson-brushed brown. His eyes crinkled a bit and he let a few more laughs slip, gently pawing at the fingers still resting on his abdomen.

The man in his lap slurred out some blending of words that definitely had 'tickles' in there, but the context was lost.

Oh, Vincent was not nearly drunk enough for this. His nerves were buzzing in his ears, overshadowing the immense amount of joy that this adorable scene in front of him warranted. He'd never been so mad to have work tomorrow.

Oh, God. Imagine what his coworkers would think of this?! His boss, especially. Even if they weren't actually... y'know... he'd probably be fired just for the suspicion of being a homosexual.

No... It... it'd be fine. To Hell with it! He was about to fucking murder his coworker in a couple of days! What did he care what people thought about his actions behind closed doors?

Besides... he didn't think he'd ever fucking forgive himself for passing up the heavenly sight literally laying in his lap.

"You're reeeeeeally out of it, aren't you?" Vincent cooed, now gently skimming his fingers over his stomach.

Alastor's giggles renewed themselves, as did the cute little piggy snorts. God, every time Vincent heard them he just wanted to squeeze Alastor until he popped... or something. He wasn't really sure about that whole thought process. Alastor was just so damn adorable he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Snrk! S'not thahahat bahahahahad. Ehehe- snrk!" He tittered without a care in the world.

"Al, you're literally laying in my lap letting me tickle you. Touch isn't normally super your thing." He reasoned.

"Been okay with your touch, like... recently n' all." He turned and buried his face in Vincent's lower stomach, head still planted firmly in his lap. "Maybe s'just somethin' new..."

He was okay with his touch? No, he shouldn't be drawing conclusions from muddled ramblings from a very drunk man.

More importantly, Al's face was... pressed into his stomach.

"U-Uh... Al?"

All he got was a dazed giggle in return, followed by some clumsy pokes to his upper ribs just below his pits. He couldn't help but start laughing, his core now quaking and jittering Alastor's head back and forth against it, which judging by the man's giggles, he thought was hilarious.

Vincent let out a playful growl, hooking an arm around Alastor's chest, under his arms, and hauling him to sit up on his lap. "Oh, you wanna play games, do you?" He wasted no more time before using his free hand to lightly tickle his belly. The arm keeping Alastor trapped up against Vincent's chest poked at his underarm as it was closest.

"SNRK! HEHEY- V-VIHIHINCEHEHAHAHANT! SNRK SNRK! EHE- SNRK!" The eruption of hearty snorty laughter next to his ear was worth the volume. Alastor let it go on surprisingly long, not even trying to speak through his overwhelming mirth. He simply wriggled and squirmed as Vincent played with every ticklish nerve on his quivering belly.

Eventually Alastor pushed firmly on his hands, getting out a giggly "Stohohohoppit," as he did.

"Alright, no more belly tickles." Vincent grinned and moved the hand from his belly to rest on his thigh while the poking at his underarm didn't cease. Shockingly, Alastor stopped laughing, simply humming in contentedness. "You're not ticklish here?"

Alastor shook his head. "Not like you. You're... you're SO ticklish there."

Maybe he could get something out of Alastor in this state of his. "So where ARE you ticklish besides your belly?"

Alastor giggled and bumped his head against Vincent's. "No telling! You'll jus' have to find out f'yourself."

If that wasn't a blatant invitation to keep tickling him he wasn't sure what was.

"Hm... How about here?" Vincent skittered his fingers down Alastor's side.

"Snrk! Ehehehe- y-yehehehes!" Alastor curled his body away from the side being attacked, giggles and snorts tumbling out of him freely. Easy fix: Vincent switched to his other hand to tickle his other side. A cycle was established, one consisting of Alastor curling and wiggling side to side to flinch away from playfully tickling fingers. Some curious exploration found the closer his tickling fingers drifted to his belly, the louder his laughs and snorts became, but the closer he got to his back the more high-pitched and silly his giggles grew.

Vincent's face was one of utter and complete fondness. How could it not? He was witnessing the most impressive and fearsome man he knew giggle and kick his feet and wriggle like a worm on a hook in his lap with the most adorable laugh he'd heard in all his years of living.

How could anyone possibly think snorting while laughing was ugly? It was so goddamn cute that it made his chest ache.

"Ehehe- snrk! Ehehenough." Alastor giggled out after a few minutes of this delightful new game. Vincent obeyed, not wanting to press his ungodly amount of luck tonight.

Alastor relaxed, laying his head back on Vincent's shoulder as he caught his breath.

"How you feeling, Al?" Even listening to himself his words sounded so unbelievably fond.

Alastor's reply was low and quiet as his eyes slipped shut. "Mmmm. Good."

Vincent already figured that but to hear it out loud was a monumental victory. He struggled where to put his hands, some part of him still screaming that touching Alastor too much was a great way to get his hand chomped into. He eventually just rested them on the couch cushions. The position was pretty unnatural, but he'd rather the discomfort than risk Alastor leaving.

The man was sitting on his lap and laying his head back on Vincent's shoulder. The moment Alastor got up, whether it be now or two hours from now, Vincent would probably experience the most chilling and lonely cold he'd ever endured.

For now, though, he enjoyed the warm presence and touch of his... his friend.

Alastor shifted minutely, curling himself to the side a bit in Vincent's lap with a gentle breath. Was he actually-?

Vincent craned his neck to look at Alastor's smile. Yeah. He was asleep. That smile never dropped but when he was unconscious it was very small and relaxed, almost looking like a straight face.

Alastor was asleep on Vincent's lap.

Holy shit.

Vincent had heard from acquaintances that when a cat is on your lap you be still so as not to disturb it, lest it leave you. He had never understood that as he'd never really cared for the creatures.

But now, oh... his entire body was stiff, too scared to even twitch.

His eyes focused in on Alastor's slack expression. The way his frame gently rose and fell. He wished he could stay here forever but his back and arms were stiff and uncomfortable very quickly from the position and he couldn't afford his posture to be less than perfect on camera tomorrow.

'Please don't wake up, please don't wake up.' His mind echoed as he made his next move. He, agonizingly slowly, hooked an arm beneath Alastor's legs, supported his back, and gently stood. Thank the Heavens Alastor was still out cold as he began walking to the couch. After safely depositing him on the cushions, he draped a light blanket over the sleeping man.

He stood there for a moment watching. He knew it was creepy, and he was praying Alastor didn't wake up to see him standing and staring at him, but he needed this. Tonight was a whirlwind of new experiences and big emotions, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. He wondered how Alastor would feel upon waking, what he would remember, but decided to not think about it until tomorrow.

He'd go put the leftover gumbo into the fridge, meander through his nightly routine, brushing teeth, getting into pajamas, and tucking himself under his navy silk sheets in his bedroom, and fall asleep for the night.

---

It ended up being three weeks before Vincent redid the ritual. It wasn't because he was struggling to find another victim, rather he wanted to be sure his body was in better shape so he could resume his games with Alastor.

It took a while to get back into a routine, as the first few days his body continued to try rejecting food. He had suffered splitting headaches, cramps, and exhaustion so severe he had slept for 16 hours accidentally at one point. But after muscling through it he was eating 3 meals a day again, focusing heavily on protein.

Looking in the mirror, his stomach was no longer curving in. His ribs weren't as visible and his cheeks had gained some fullness once more.

His strength had also started coming back to him. Hauling that body wasn't as exhausting at it had been less than a month ago. He still was nowhere NEAR where he was less than a year ago, but it was an improvement.

He went back to his job. It was difficult to just pick up where he left off, but he managed.

Probably helped that he killed one of the temps so he could get back to his usual responsibilities faster.

That same temp was the body used to perform this spell.

There was still some fearful part of him nagging the back of his mind: what if it was a dream? What if he doodled that paper and forgot about it?

His stomach was in knots as he spoke the words once more, but when that unforgettable smell filled the room, he knew it was real. The radio whined, the pentagram glowed, and a crackle of green lightning flashbanged him again.

There was that... He'd have to get used to Alastor's new appearance. Part of him loathed that he'd never see his original human body again, his small frame, his cute face, his curly hair.

But he could hardly care in that moment, because he was here in front of him.

"Alastor," He breathed. He had seen him less than a month ago but it still didn't feel real. Tears threatened to spill again. He managed held them back.

"You look much better." Alastor said with a genuine smile. "Those cooking lessons didn't go to waste, apparently."

Vincent launched himself forward and gripped him tight in a hug, face buried in his chest. Alastor didn't even flinch, just bringing a hand up to card through his hair.

"You wouldn't believe how much I cried trying to cook after we met."

"I believe it," Alastor chuckled. "Two little sprinklers in your eyes, aren't there, Squeaks?"

"Such a dick," Vincent huffed, not at all seriously, into Alastor's coat.

He squeaked as two giant hands scooped him up and held him in the air. Vincent's legs wrapped around Alastor's waist, the way Alastor used to do to him.

Before he grew to 7 fucking feet tall!

"Let's see just how much better you've gotten," Alastor cooed mischievously and grabbed the hem of Vincent's shirt with one hand, lifting it up just below his underarms to show his belly and ribs.

Oh, that feeling, fluttery butterflies in his belly and his heart pitter-pattering away. A nervous grin wormed to his face, knowing what was coming.

Fuck, it'd been too long!

"Your belly has most certainly got fuller."

Alastor's red claws gently danced over his mIdriff. Vincent's stomach had never been super ticklish, not like Alastor's, but it was definitely enough to get him giggling and squirming.

Vincent gently kicked his feet and tittered lightly. He saw Alastor look at him with what could only be described as fondness.

"And your ribs..."

One claw lightly dragged up his ribcage and Vincent squealed.

Alastor laughed loudly and genuinely. "There's your namesake, Squeaks! How I missed your squealy little sounds!"

Vincent didn't care to protest. He leaned back against Alastor's supporting arm at his lower back as he squeaked and giggled at Alastor's wiggling claw.

"Still so sensitive... What about riiiiiight... here?" Alastor lightly pinched his lowest rib with his claws. Vincent shrieked and erupted into laughter.

"AIIIEEE! EHEHE- AHAHALASTOHOHOHOR! AHAhahaha! Th-Thahahahat tihihihickles!"

The pointiness of those claws tickled like crazy and God how he loved it. He hadn't laughed since Alastor's death and oh it felt so good.

"Hmm... It's been so long, dearie me, I've forgotten how many ribs you have!"

"Ihihihit's twehehenty-fohohour! Yohohou've cohohounted lihihike ahaha mihihillion tihihihimes!" Vincent's protests were hollow and meaningless. He wanted nothing more than for Alastor to play his ticklish games just like he had before.

"Well, let's make it a million and one just to be sure." Alastor shot him a wink. "Let's see... there's this one right here, quite ticklish." He repeatedly squeezed and pinched his left lowest rib making Vincent absolutely howl with laughter.

"And here's two..." More rapid squeezing over his other floating rib.

"AHAHAL! EEK! TH-Thahahat tihihickles sohoho BAHAHAD!"

"Ugh, all your shouting made me lose track. Oh well, best start again to be sure... One~"

More squealing and thrashing, his voice reaching those pitches he had thought he'd never touch on again.

Alastor's eyes were so different now, pale red irises on a sea of crimson with tiny little black slits as pupils. Still, he could see the softness and love in them. Alastor had missed this as much as Vincent had.

He continued to cackle and squeak as Alastor made his way up his ribcage, counting slowly, but tickling quickly and thoroughly.

As soon as they reached his highest ribs his arms slammed down firmly to his sides.

"Oh, that's right. Your pits are terribly ticklish aren't they?" Alastor's voice was dripping with playful drama. He hadn't forgotten. How could he have? He had basically set up camp in those pits multiple times to make Vincent lose his goddamn mind laughing so hard he nearly passed out. "Well I'm afraid you'll have to lift your arms so I can finish counting. Now go on. Up."

Vincent wore a nervous but taunting grin. He shook his head.

"No?" Alastor's eyebrows shot up.

"Mahahake mehehehe!" Vincent giggled.

"You're going to regret that, dearest." Alastor gently plucked Vincent's wrist and lifted it effortlessly above his head. Vincent was shocked, he pulled and tugged but Alastor's strength was... impossible!

Demonic.

"Y-You've never overpowered me before," Vincent sputtered in disbelief.

"Get used to it," Alastor chuckled. The arm that had been supporting his back abruptly let him go. He squeaked in surprise as he was left dangling from his wrist in Alastor's hold.

Then Alastor held up his now free hand and wiggled his claws.

"Ohohohoh, shihihit!" He giggled. His giggles turned to shrieking hysteria as those claws rapidly prodded and poked and skittered at his underarm, stretched taut and vulnerable.

"How's that? Regretting it now?"

"EEEHEHE- IHI'M SOHOHORRY! IHIH'M SOHOHORRY- OHO FUHUHUCK! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

Vincent kicked and thrashed but he was practically a fly pinned beneath the claw of a lion, completely helpless and weak. No matter how hard he kicked and wiggled he was just a dangling tickle toy for Alastor to use.

"There's the 23rd rib riiiiight... there!" Alastor vibrated the tip of his claw into the declared rib. Vincent howled with mirth. He threw his head back and just... laughed.

Alastor switched to hold up his other hand so his other underarm received an equally unbearable tickling.

"Ah, there we are! The 24th rib!" More shrieking and squealing as the final rib got its thoroughly ticklish treatment.

"Alright. I suppose you were right after all. 24 ribs!" Alastor sat himself on the floor and laid Vincent in his lap, which the man was grateful for. He gasped for air, lungs not used to all this exertion after everything. He might've been feeding himself again but that didn't mean he was fully recovered.

"Are you going to nap on my lap again?" Alastor spoke in a teasing coo that made Vincent flush.

"No!" He harshly sat up, immediately regretting it with how his head spun.

"You look sleepy to me." Alastor put a hand to his back to help steady with from his headrush.

"You said if I summoned you and my stomach wasn't concave I could hear some piggy snorts." Vincent gave a lopsided grin even if his eyes begged him to be shut.

"I suppose I said something to that effect, yes." Alastor hummed.

"Open up your coat and lift your shirt. You have no idea how much I missed your ticklish little tummy."

Vincent's grin nearly split his face in half when he saw Alastor's cheeks, now a grayer shade, gain a slight pink hue.

His partner slowly unbuttoned his coat and hiked his shirt to reveal his belly.

Vincent gasped.

Fur. A thin layer of deer fur.

He reached out his hand and simply laid his palm against it. Alastor flinched a bit, but when he realized Vincent wasn't immediately tickling him, he relaxed.

He ran his hand along the fur. It was so soft and fine.

"Doll, you're so soft." Vincent chuckled. "I can't wait to cuddle in bed with you. Gonna lay my head down on your belly at night."

"Who knows. Maybe you'll die from an infected rabbit scratch and you'll have fur too."

He made a deep noise of disgust, throwing his head back in a dramatic gesture that made Alastor chuckle. "Ugh, I do not want to be a bunny."

"You may not have a choice," he fired back effortlessly. Always conversationally combative, wasn't he? "You think I wanted to be a deer?"

"Well, I'm certainly happy with how this turned out." He switched his petting to minute fluttering to test the waters, and thank the heavens he got to hear it again-

Alastor finally released one of those precious snorts and erupted into giggles.

His laughter now had a staticky filter over it. It partially saddened Vincent, he wanted to hear it as it was, but... maybe now he could hear it for the first time all over again.

"SNRK! Hehehehehey! Aha- SNRK! Ahahaha!"

"Mmm, still ticklish even as a deer. And those cute piggy snorts haven't left you." Vincent rested his hands on Alastor's thighs and leaned up for a kiss.

He was not used to looking UP to kiss.

Alastor met him halfway and Vincent hummed happily at the sensation.

Between light kisses Vincent snuck his fingers back up and resumed his gentle tickling, smirking amusedly as Alastor smiled wide into their kiss until his lips were fully pulled back in a grin as he laughed and snorted without restraint.

"I missed this, Piglet," Vincent spoke softly as he pulled away from Alastor's mouth to get a better look at his face. "Not hearing your snorty laughter for months? Torture."

"Hohohow dohoho yohohou thihihink Ihihi fehehelt wihihithout yohour squeheheheaks?"

"If it's even half of what I went through with no piggy oinks, it must've been torture." Vincent drifted his head towards Alastor's belly, grinning at Alastor's resulting protests.

"Dohohohon't yohohou dahahahare!"

"Oh, I dare." A big long dramatic inhale and- "PPPFFFFFBBBBBTTT"

Alastor's scream of laughter was louder than Vincent had ever heard, coated in crackly static and within seconds... he was in the air.

The wind was knocked out of him as he went flying across the room. Thankfully, his experience taking down people fighting for their life kicked in and he rolled as he skidded across the pavement to reduce the strain on his body.

He coughed a bit and his head spun. He looked up at Alastor who stared at him with wide eyes.

"What was THAT?!" Vincent sputtered.

"That was... more intense than I remember," Alastor still had the permanent smile he always had through life, but it slightly uncertain right now. "I couldn't stop my body from- Vincent, are you alright?"

That rare open statement of concern warmed Vincent's heart. Alastor had cared about his safety and happiness for years, he knew that, but it was rare for him to openly voice it without teasing or mocking him in some way.

Vincent slowly stood up, his nerves were more shaken that anything and there was a slight ache in his elbow and forearm which he had caught himself with, but he'd been through much worse.

"I'm alright. I'm not used to being tossed around like a ragdoll, though." He walked over to Alastor and plopped himself in his lap. "Did Hell make you more ticklish or something?"

"I-" Alastor looked shy, cheeks a slightly deeper pink than before, "I believe it's because of my fur. When you did that, it was like I could feel every single hair follicle tingling on my torso. It, uh-"

"Tickled?" Vincent cut him off with a massive grin. "I'm really starting to like some of your new features. Anything that makes you more ticklish and giggly is perfect in my books."

The smile was back to its usual size, though now with a familiarly mischievous edge. "With our newfound difference in strength it may be rather difficult for you to indulge..."

Vincent slumped over a bit. "Yeah, that..."

"...Unless we make a deal."

Vincent blinked and looked up. "Like... like a contract? You want my soul?"

"Of course not, dear." Alastor hurried to reassure him. "Contracts and deals don't have to be for souls. They can be for anything! The thing about them that's relevant currently is that they can magically force action or inaction if both parties agree. So, if we make a deal with the stipulation that I mustn't move or fight back..."

Vincent lit up. "You won't be able to? Like restraints?"

"Precisely."

"Then let's do it!" Vincent shouted excitedly before hesitating. "Do we need to like... write something on demonic paper or something?

Alastor laughed loudly, a sound Vincent would never tire of. "Not at all. We just need a verbal agreement and a handshake. How about this: for the rest of this ritual today, until you release me by saying 'release', my wrists and ankles must stay in contact with the cement floor and I cannot fight back or restrict your touch of me in anyway."

Alastor held out his hand crackling in green energy.

There was a moment's hesistation. The green light accentuated Alastor's demonic features and the temperature in the room dropped.

Making a deal with a demon?

No. Making a deal with Alastor. His partner.

He reached out and shook the hand, recoiling at the crash of lightning and howl of wind. Something chilling and firm, something certain as the moon in the sky, settled into Vincent's bones, like an age old ache he'd known for decades.

The deal was set.

Green cuffs clinking with glowing chains launched from the floor and slammed Alastor's limbs down so he was laying in an X shape in the middle of the pentagram. Vincent slid off his lap as it disappeared, landing on his butt with an 'oof'.

"This is... dramatic." Vincent said nervously.

"Don't waste your time, darling. The ritual will end within the hour."

Vincent's face crumpled. "Don't remind me. I don't want to wait two weeks to see you again."

"Make it count now. Enjoy the moment. I'm here. Don't spend the hour mourning what hasn't come, spend it smiling because you're enjoying our time together."

Vincent sniffled with a smile, holding back tears with sheer force of will. That man could be so damn sweet and romantic when he wanted to be.

"Don't go crying on me, now~" Alastor sang with a silly smirk.

"Hey, I'm the one doing the teasing here, little piglet." Vinent scurried his fingers up and down Alastor's exposed belly.

"SNRRRK! PFFTAHAHAHAHA!" Alastor burst into happy staticky laughter, jerking and thrashing as much as his magical bindings would allow.

Vincent's stomach fluttered and squirmed, nostalgia flooding his body and tying his insides in knots.

To not have this everyday ate away at his core. The knowledge that in less than hour he'd go home to crushing silence was a rot in his soul, but Alastor was right.

He needed to focus on enjoying the moment. If he allowed this memory to be tainted by grief it would make the night all the more bitter.

Instead of lamenting his memories of how things were, he let himself indulge. It was like remembering fond childhood memories, he'd never experience them again quite the same, but he could still let the nostalgia wash over him and enjoy it.

Besides, unlike his childhood, he was going to live those memories again someday, just with a new coat of paint and a new backdrop.

Old familiar words, so jovial and silly, "tickle tickle tickle! Show me those adorable little snorts, piglet!"

And boy, did he. Alastor snorted and cackled and shrieked, his smile so big and joyful. It was a new grin, now with sharp yellow teeth, but it was still him. Still Alastor.

He could definitely get used to touching that fur. If he loved Alastor's tummy before, this was a new level, or at least a new version.

"Now that you're not going to throw me through a wall... I think I should retry that raspberry."

Feedback whined and spiked. "VHIHINCENT NOHOHO!"

"Vincent YES!" A looooooong inhale, watching Alastor squirm and wiggle nervously, "PFFFFBBBBBRRRT"

It was as silly-sounding as it was effective. Though this time, Alastor made a noise Vincent had never heard before.

A bleat, like a little fawn!

After that adorable 'Meh!' sound, Alastor threw his head back into the cement and howled with laughter.

"PFFTAHAHAHA -SNRK- AHAHAHA! WAHAHAIT- AHA -SNRK- EEHAHAHA!"

Vincent pulled his head up and wiped his lips, feeling a bit of loose fur on them. "There we go, much better!"

Alastor panted for breath. Strange. Did you still need to breathe once you died? Did you need to sleep or eat? What about use the bathroom? Questions for another time.

His eyes flicked over Alastor's face and up to those two fluffy ears on his head.

"Can I touch your ears?" He asked bluntly.

One of them flicked at the question. They were so cute!

"You can touch me however you'd like at the moment." Alastor grinned as Vincent's mind took a swan dive straight into the gutter. He flushed and shook his head to fish it right back out.

He shuffled up to Alastor's head and carefully reached out. As soon as his palms cupped the shell of each ear he squeaked excitedly. They were so SOFT!

He petted them gently, using only his palms, enjoying how they quivered and twitched beneath his touch.

"How does it feel?" Vincent said breathily, his voice dripping with awe and adoration.

"Hmmmm," Alastor hummed long and tiredly, "surprisingly pleasant."

Vincent had his fingers join in, trailing up the fuzzy appendages.

MEH!

That heart-wrenchingly cute bleat again. Alastor stared wide-eyed and bright red.

"Aw, no way! Are your big ol' deer ears are ticklish? You're the cutest damned demon I've ever seen."

"I'm the only damned demon you've ever seen." Alastor rolled his eyes before erupting into happy snorty tittering. His ears flapped and jerked like they were trying to take off and fly right off his head.

"Look at them go! So ticklish and adorable! Cootchie cootchie coo!" Vincent burst into laughter of his own, simply overcome with so much happiness and love he was surprised the emotions weren't pouring from his eyes. "Yohohou're soho dahahamn cuhuhute!" He placed a loud smacking kiss to Alastor's cheek with his hands now at rest. "I love you so much."

Through pants, Alastor spoke, "It's been a while hasn't it? I always released you much quicker than this didn't it?"

Vincent laughed in disbelief. "Hardly! It always took you ages to release me!"

A crackle erupted through the pentagram and that deep weighty feeling in his bones evaporated in an instant. Alastor's restraints disappeared with the sound of a chain breaking.

Their deal!

Alastor laughed and sat up abruptly, scooping Vincent into his lap and immediately skittering his claws at his belly and ribs.

"Wait- WaITWAITWAHAHAHAHAIT!" Vincent shrieked and cackled, fighting and thrashing but with no effect.

"Let this be a lesson, dearest, to pay attention to your deals," Alastor chuckled something deep and sinister. "When you join me down here, you'll need to be smart with contracts. Maybe a good laugh will help you remember your wits."

Vincent couldn't remember shit at the moment, his head fuzzy from laughing so hard that his stomach ached, and not the normal kind of ache he had become used to.

The ache of laughter started becoming unpleasant, along with the new pounding in his head and ears.

"M-MUHUHULBERRY!"

Alastor pulled his claws away and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. Vincent slumped over, limbs like lead dragging him down to semi-consciousness.

"Feeling sleepy, Squeaks?"

Vincent let out something between a grunt and a whine as his eyelids became the heaviest stone upon his face, sinking further and further.

"I don't mind being your pillow once more. But before you drift off, let's establish a schedule. I have things going on down in Hell as well. Once every two weeks at the same time exactly. Day and time of your choosing."

Vincent rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake just a little longer.

"Saturdays. Gives me time to kill and not have work the next day... 8pm?"

"Sounds perfect." Alastor held his head close to his chest which Vincent immediately rested again. "Sleep. I'll see you in two weeks, Saturday at 8pm. It's a date."

A gentle fizzle of white noise grew to life and Vincent's eyes drifted shut. In mere seconds he was out again, embraced in a familiar warmth that ensured his peace of mind.