Work Text:
There was this peculiar feeling Alastor always felt around Viewtiful Joe.
It was a feeling of disgust.
A feeling of nothing but pure, unbridled hatred.
It made him angry.
It made him want to wipe the ever-lasting smile off Joe with a swift punch to the face.
It made him uncomfortable.
At times, this very feeling numbed his logic and blurred his lines of focus.
At times, this feeling held him back.
It held him back because Joe was hateable to the point of confusion.
He hated Joe so much it left his mind scrambled, and his soul shaken to its very core.
It kept him up at night.
It kept him up at night because he knew he had to be the one to defeat Viewtiful Joe.
It had to be him to bring about the hero’s demise, and no one else.
Alastor wouldn’t settle for any less.
-
Alastor was confusing. Joe knew that much.
On paper, he was a villain, but in reality, he was different .
Joe saw an ounce of heroism in his heart, something a true villain wouldn’t have.
Alastor was different.
He was interesting.
Joe liked him.
Joe wanted to get to know the guy, but Alastor seemed to like retreating.
Joe found that interesting, too.
-
Alastor found he must escape from the feeling at times.
At first, he channelled it into his attacks.
At first, it didn’t cause him to fumble.
Slowly, it became stronger.
Less of a power, and more of a nuisance.
But Alastor was strong, and he was smart; he could handle anything.
With his sheer will and determination, he would handle this.
-
One day, Joe made a long-overdue decision nothing could stop him from pursuing: he would talk to Alastor.
“About what?”
Junior’s expression, a concoction of shock and distaste, closely inspected Joe’s new idea.
The hero and sidekick were lying on a hill, looking up at the clouds. Joe claimed to see interesting shapes in all of them—mostly burgers—but Junior said they were nothing more than cloud-shaped. They were talking the day away given a surprising lack of intruding villains and threats.
Despite Junior’s relentless denial, it was a well-deserved break for both of them. Joe could see Junior’s exhaustion through his façade and antsiness to fight off the bad guys.
Joe didn’t know if Junior ever let himself take a break.
So, seeing Junior finally lie down, visibly relax, and finally take a moment to just breathe , Joe was grateful for today.
“I dunno, about anything!” Joe thought for a moment, massaging a blade of damp grass between his fingers. “I wonder what his favourite food is… do you think it’s burgers? I could really go for a burger right now. Why don’t we get something to ea—”
“Joe, could you tell me why you’re doing this again?” Junior cut him off with a familiar edge to his voice.
“Well…” Joe stretched out the word, stroking his chin. “Why not?”
“What do you mean ‘why not’ ? Alastor is a villain ! He’s someone that a hero is supposed to take down , not take out for lunch!” Junior sat up and stared down at Joe. Junior always gave him this look—it was a mix of nerves and bewilderment. And, considering his tone, frustration.
Joe shrugged, unable to see why.
“The lunch thing seems a lot more pleasant to me,” he reasoned, placing his hands atop his stomach.
“That’s it, I give up,” Junior shook his head and buried it in his hands.
“Look, I just wanna get to know him. He’s cool! I also wanna get some food,” Joe felt his stomach calling for burgers in agony. “I’m starving.”
“Fine, let’s eat,” Junior stood up. “And if you think someone who hates your guts and wants to kill you is cool , then you’re a lost cause,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What was that?”
Junior sighed as they began to walk.
“Nothing.”
-
One must be observant of an enemy like Viewtiful Joe.
Alastor would watch him, gathering intel on when and where to strike.
He analyzed his opponent. He needed a firm grasp on his character, his strengths, his weaknesses, his everything .
After scanning the area, Alastor finally spotted Joe. For a split second, with his eyes fixed on his enemy, Alastor’s objective slipped his mind, replacing itself with a fog, and he couldn’t justify why he was there.
Alastor shook himself back into focus. He wouldn’t be overcome by any feeble, indiscernible feeling this time.
That feeling was weaker than him. He would fight against it and win.
Alastor would not get in his own way.
That was far below what was expected of a skilled warrior like him.
The enemy and the little secondary enemy were in a burger place, presumably eating lunch.
Alastor had watched them enter from afar. He realized he didn’t know what he was waiting for, and started toward the restaurant.
When he walked in, the bell at the door rang.
The scent of grease overwhelmed his senses. These burger restaurants were so distinct in their presentations.
Red stools lined a bar at the front where customers sat to indulge in their food; tables with bright, striped cloths occupied the floor; and chairs lower than the bar stools rounded each table.
Fluorescent lighting reflected off every shiny chair and stool.
The place was packed to the brim, and so, so bright .
Joe and Junior sat beside each other at a four-person table. Alastor wondered about the point in that, but then noted that every other table was full.
At the sound of the bell, he expected Joe to turn and see him, but Joe’s focus was on his burger rather than his surroundings.
Joe truly loved burgers more than anything else. He looked so… happy , even though it was only food.
Joe was so weird like that. He could get so overly invested in something that Alastor wouldn’t care about in the slightest. Something about it was so fascinatingly ridiculous.
Alastor watched as Joe ate, trying to decipher… something. Anything . Joe was the most confusing —
“Hey, Alastor!”
Alastor jumped.
The burger Joe once held had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but crumbs and… ketchup remnants on his plate. Either Joe ate at the speed of light, or the time had simply passed Alastor by.
There was an equal chance of either explanation.
Joe gestured for him to sit down with them while Junior shot him a glare.
Alastor didn’t know why, but he sat and felt his heart threaten to burst as he did.
He was just startled, that was all.
He sat across from Joe. They were sitting across from each other.
Then Joe leaned forward, so Alastor leaned back. He wouldn’t lose his composure.
“I have a question for you,” Joe stared intently into Alastor’s eyes. It felt like his soul experienced an invasion of privacy.
“What is it?” Alastor snapped back but found his voice sounding smaller than anticipated.
Joe looked more eager than ever, and his smile was blinding. At this moment, Alastor was thankful for his visor.
“Will you have lunch with me?”
“ What?! ”
Junior let his head fall against the table and covered it with his hands.
“I said, will you have lunch with me?” Joe repeated.
“Um, I—” Alastor paused, thinking for a moment. This was an open invitation to learn more about Viewtiful Joe. And, more importantly, learn how to take him down .
“Yes, I will.”
Joe cheered, loudly. (He seriously had zero awareness of his surroundings.)
“Are you serious?” Junior asked incredulously.
“I told you he would say yes!”
“What kind of universe am I living in…?” Junior complained.
“There, there,” Joe patted Junior’s head. He crossed his arms and pouted in response.
These two seemed quite close. Alastor hadn’t paid it too much mind before.
They were like siblings.
“When will we meet?” Alastor asked. He was excited. He would learn enough about Joe to find the perfect way to strike, and Joe was just dumb enough to fall for it. Alastor would win.
Alastor found himself with a rekindled sense of purpose.
It was a good feeling.
“Well, when are you free?” Joe asked.
“Um, whenever,” Alastor answered, he never really had any plans. Well, except now he did.
“How about tomorrow, then?” Joe suggested. “At this place?”
This place was not pleasant at all, but Alastor couldn’t really suggest any place else.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be here.”
“Me too, baby!” Joe winked, and did that stupid VJ thing with his hand.
And, with that, Alastor left.
-
“Joe, this won’t end well and I know it,” Junior warned.
“Relax, he’s not so bad!”
Joe was ecstatic. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in Alastor saying yes—he did —it was just surprising how willing he was.
Alastor really wasn’t a bad guy. Joe knew it to be true.
-
No matter how hard he tried, Alastor couldn’t fall asleep.
It was that feeling, and these thoughts, and those worries that were eating him alive.
He didn’t know why he was letting them get to him.
He should have been better than this.
It was silly. It was stupid.
Joe was stupid.
Joe was stupid enough to invite Alastor to lunch. Who would do that?
Enemies didn’t go out for meals together. That simply wasn’t how the world worked.
Alastor laughed to himself at the memory of Joe’s naïveté.
Joe couldn’t see through shit.
This was going to be so rewarding.
Alastor focused on that thought rather than the others, and finally nodded off.
-
Alastor waited at a two-person table for Joe to show up. It was at this very moment that he realized they had never picked any specific time.
Although lunch does imply a time, Alastor's lunch and Joe’s lunch might have just not lined up (even though Alastor found them the previous day eating lunch at a similar time…).
Or maybe Joe was running late.
That reason seemed most realistic.
It was okay, though, because it gave Alastor a moment to mentally prepare.
Joe was such a wild card at times. Alastor didn’t know what to expect. But he knew that he’d get something out of this. Joe never seemed to have any qualms about sharing his thoughts, so gathering useful intel would be a piece of cake.
Then Alastor remembered the fact he didn’t quite know why Joe set this up. What was he planning?
The memory worried him a little, but knowing the lack of smarts he was up against, he reassured himself. It would be fine.
Alastor took a sip of the hot chocolate he’d ordered while waiting—though it wasn’t exactly hot anymore—heard the bell at the door, and turned to see the man he’d been waiting for.
Greeting his line of vision was the bright blue tee that one could spot from a mile away; the beige, backwards baseball cap that he never seemed to take off, which covered all but the long spikes of red shooting out the front and peeking out the back; and the same interminable smile.
Joe was so weird.
And then suddenly it was the piercing green eyes staring right back at him, right through him.
And a wave, with the hand connected to the wrist that held his V-Watch.
Don’t get distracted , Alastor told himself.
And he waved back.
It was time to study his rival. Soon, he would know Joe better than Joe knew himself. Then, Joe would taste not burgers, but defeat.
Alastor was determined to bring his plan to fruition.
Nothing could stop him.
“You’re here early,” Joe said, sitting down with two plates of burgers. He placed one in front of himself and one in front of Alastor.
“It’s four.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Never mind.”
Alastor watched as Joe ate. He had the same look on his face as he did the day before. It was just food. How could Joe be so fixated on something like that?
“So, what’s your favourite colour?” Joe asked.
“Huh?” Alastor thought about it for a moment. Why would Joe want to know something so… surface level? What did that have to do with anything? Was this just for the sake of filling silence? Or did he seriously want to know?
“Mine’s red. What’s yours?” he reiterated.
“Um… black?”
“Cool! Wait, if your favourite colour is black, then why do you always wear purple?”
Was Joe really all that concerned about fashion choices?
“That’s a stupid question,” Alastor noted, but after a moment—and after Joe’s unsatisfied look—he didn’t see any risk in answering it truthfully. “Purple suits me.”
“Hmm…” Joe looked him up and down, stroking his chin, for what felt like far too long. Alastor let out the breath he was holding when Joe finally replied:
“You’re right, it does.”
Alastor felt his face get hotter—he didn’t appreciate being stared at like that.
“I know,” he replied.
“You know everything, don’t you?” Joe asked.
“What?”
“It seems like you do. You’re the type of person who knows stuff,” with his free, non-burger-holding hand, Joe pointed toward Alastor, then to his head, as if referring to Alastor’s smarts.
“And you’re the type of person who has nothing more than nonsensical blabbering escaping his mouth at every chance,” Alastor retorted.
“Not if there’s a burger in it!”
Alastor was about to reply but stopped short when he saw Joe stuffing his face once more.
This was getting nowhere.
He looked at his own burger.
Alastor wasn’t particularly hungry—with his stomach tied in knots and this weird sickening feeling gaining intensity it was hard to want to eat.
“You know, it tastes even better than it looks.”
Joe’s voice cut through Alastor’s thoughts, startling him.
Joe seemed to pick up on Alastor’s surprise, leading him to barrel on:
“I know it sounds impossible, but it’s a true, real-life fact, yo!”
He sounded like he was trying to sell a car.
“Oh, I’m sure. I’m just… full.”
Alastor hoped Joe was dumb enough to fall for that.
“You came to lunch without an appetite? Who does that, dude?” Joe scolded, though Alastor got the feeling he wasn’t all that upset. “Actually, come to think of it… I ate before I got here too. You can never miss a good burger opportunity!” Joe said matter-of-factly.
You’re literally eating a burger right now , Alastor didn’t say aloud; there was no use.
“Is that why you were late?” Alastor asked instead.
“I wasn’t late,” Joe answered, taking another bite.
“The sun is setting! Look outside!” Alastor gestured toward the window to prove his point.
Joe looked. “Wow… that is pretty. Isn’t this fun? We’re watching the sun set together!”
“That’s not the— ugh! Whatever. Would it have killed you to pick a specific time?”
“Well, I can pick one next time,” Joe said, with his eyes fixed intently on the pink and purplish view outside the window. Alastor preferred this to Joe staring at him.
“I guess you can,” Alastor replied, taking another sip of his drink.
Alastor nearly choked when he realized what Joe had just suggested.
“Wait— next time? ”
Alastor thought this was a one-time deal.
“Yeah! Don’t you wanna do this again?” Joe looked back at him with his stupid sparkling eyes. There was too much light reflecting everywhere. It made it hard to think.
Alastor searched for a reply.
It was at this moment that he realized he hadn’t achieved his objective. He set out to gather intel and this meeting ended with an equally happy and undefeated Joe who was even more confusing than before.
Alastor didn’t know why he lost focus.
And Alastor wasn’t a quitter. He would fulfil his sole purpose no matter the feat. Even if that meant… another lunch .
Alastor wouldn’t quit.
“Yes, let’s do this again.”
-
“So… why don’t you tell me about yourself, Viewtiful Joe?”
The two sat atop a blanket strewn across the grass. It was a picnic. And despite picking a specific time, Joe was still a half-hour late. Alastor wouldn’t dwell on it though. He had a much more important matter to focus on, and nothing would stop him this time.
“Well, my name’s Joe, I like burgers, movies, burgers, the colour red—ooh, ketchup! Burgers—”
“Do you like anything other than burgers ?” Alastor asked, irritated.
Joe laid on his back and stared at the sky.
“Mm, superheroes— Captain Blue! ” Joe stretched his arms into the air.
“You know you’re a superhero too, right?” Alastor reminded him.
Alastor drew his gaze up and down his enemy lying on the ground. Joe looked so relaxed . Sometimes it felt like he resided in his own little blissful world inside his head. How else could someone be so cheerful ?
“I know; I like myself,” Joe closed his eyes and crossed his arms behind him, beneath his head. “I’m pretty cool. And I like saving people.”
“Why?”
Then, Joe looked back at him. His hair rustled lightly in the wind. His eyes were honest.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Alastor averted his gaze.
He didn’t know what to say to that.
“What do you like, Alastor?”
This question made him think. Alastor definitely didn’t have as much interest in things as Joe, but that’s because he knew what to do with his life, and didn’t need useless distractions.
“Fighting,” Alastor answered with confidence, crossing his arms.
“Why?” Joe asked, and Alastor hated the way it seemed he truly wanted to know.
“ Why wouldn’t I ?” Alastor quipped back.
“Well, you’re right, fighting is cool and all, but don’t you just wanna chill and hang out sometimes?”
Before a resounding, confident no escaped him, Alastor stopped himself and took in his surroundings. Whatever he was doing with Joe right now was probably considered “chilling” or “hanging out,” and Alastor was smarter than to reveal his true desires, especially this early.
Joe was so… genuine . Maybe that was what caused the disorienting spike of hatred and made his head spin at every lock of their eyes.
Alastor tried to read Joe, but his eyes were more of a brick wall than a window.
It made him feel insurmountably uneasy.
It made him feel angry.
That was what he felt. Anger.
It was burning him up.
At times like these, he would channel this rage into his combat technique and training and fighting, but he couldn’t do that right now. He had no strategy to ease it right—
A hand waved over his eyes.
Joe’s hand.
Alastor slapped it away.
“What do you think you’re doing?! ” he snapped.
“Whoa, dude, chill,” Joe put up his hands in defence. “You looked like you were zoning out or something. You good?”
Alastor’s head felt hot. It was that stupid feeling that fueled his desire to deck Joe in the face but constricted his attacks and left him to do nothing but stare.
His stomach and mind were alike in the knots in which they were tangled that might burn before untied.
With every glance at Joe, they tightened.
It was too much, it was too much, and Joe was too close, and he wanted to fight it, but he refrained even though he couldn’t find a reason to.
Alastor despised the thought of being questioned or wondered about or befriended and Joe fell guilty every time they made contact.
Alastor didn’t need this.
It wasn’t necessary.
The way Joe looked at him was painful.
He could handle it, but evasion was smarter.
Alastor stood up.
“Alastor, are you—”
“I’m leaving,” Alastor replied. He didn’t let his voice weaken.
“What? Why?” Joe asked, standing up to match Alastor’s height—not that he did .
“I’ve—I’ve just got somewhere to be, okay?” Alastor answered.
“You double-booked yourself?” Joe crossed his arms. “I didn’t know you were such a popular guy.”
“Hey, if you’re allowed to arrive late, then I’m allowed to leave early,” Alastor said, lifting himself off the ground with his wings to look down at Joe. And also to look at the way the wind rustled the grass along with Joe’s head of disgustingly bright red hair. Taking it all in during this moment, Alastor deemed this place far too bright.
Joe blinked. “With that logic, there’s a chance that our paths couldn’t even cross—”
“ Maybe that’s a good thing! ”
Alastor was out of earshot before Joe could muster up a reply.
-
Alastor felt himself cool down the further he got. And once his mind cleared, he scolded himself for ever allowing it to cloud.
He had to find out more than he did.
It was too late to back out of this plan—not that it wasn’t a great plan—so Alastor would barrel forward.
But… after the last meeting ended, he was unsure of how to continue.
-
Joe noticed the way Alastor acted around him.
He would get all… quiet. Or yell, but the yelling thing Joe was more used to.
Maybe Alastor was lost in thought, and there was nothing wrong with thinking.
But there seemed to be more to it.
Alastor carried himself in such a way that made Joe wonder what went on in that head of his. It was mysterious. The way Alastor looked at him like he was reading a fast-food menu made Joe wonder why.
Letting loose a little would surely do Alastor some good.
Especially after the scene he made at their picnic.
Joe wasn’t upset about it though, because Alastor clearly had something going on.
That was nothing more than water under the bridge.
-
Alastor was unsure of how to proceed.
Joe wouldn’t accept a request for another “hang-out” again after last time… right?
Alastor thought for a moment.
Joe, fully aware of their rivalry, had asked him to meet up together twice without even a second thought.
Maybe this wasn’t so hopeless, after all.
Joe was so amazingly stupid .
This time, they would do things on Alastor’s accord.
-
“ Viewtiful Joe! What a pleasant surprise,” Alastor descended from the sky to stand before his enemy and the miniature enemy.
Junior appeared like he couldn’t have cared less, but Joe looked interested enough for the both of them.
“Yo, Alastor! I was wondering where you’d been!” Joe shouted.
“I was hoping you’d stay away,” Junior chimed in.
Alastor knew better than to lose focus this time, so he would be direct and to the point.
“I would like to meet up with you again for a chat, Viewtiful Joe,” he leaned closer, “but at a time and place of my choosing, rather than yours.”
Joe’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah, sure, sounds goo—”
Junior slapped his hand over Joe’s mouth, then whispered to him something Alastor couldn’t hear.
“But it’s only fair,” Joe said in response. It wasn’t really a whisper.
Hearing half this conversation got frustrating fast, so Alastor sped things up.
“Are you in or not?” he snapped.
Joe patted Junior’s head and the latter crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.
“I’m in!” Joe beamed, inflicting a familiar feeling in Alastor’s chest.
He wanted to punch the smile off the sucker’s face.
And he would…
Alastor smiled to himself.
… With time.
-
“Alastor..?”
Joe could barely see through the fog. It was midnight in the middle of nowhere. This location really didn’t seem ideal for breaking the ice—it seemed it might turn him into a block of ice if the rain kept up.
Maybe Alastor just thrived at night! Everyone had their own quirks, and Joe wouldn't judge his friend for this.
It was really cold, though.
Then, Alastor emerged from the shadows, through the mist. His eyes glowed in bright, shocking pink.
It was so cool .
Joe watched this man’s entrance in awe. He was happy Alastor finally reciprocated his desire to bond. It was nice to see Alastor start to embrace some friendship. Their relationship was beginning to bloom and flourish, and It would do him a lot of good.
Now that it was Alastor himself initiating, Joe felt proud. A world where Alastor asked him to hang out was a world Joe wished to reside in for eternity.
Maybe Alastor would feel less inclined to leave early when surrounded by the comfort of familiarity… which, looking around at the endless darkness, was what Joe assumed this was.
It was all stormy, and Alastor was on great terms with lightning. Joe knew that.
Alastor was starting to be more open, it felt, and Joe hoped that he would carry on in that direction, and they’d grow closer than ever before.
They’d always been friends. Alastor was finally really, truly feeling it too.
Despite being drenched in rain, that made Joe happier than he had ever been. Glee filled him from head to toe.
Then, as Alastor still approached, Joe saw the glint of his sword flickering in the moonlight.
… Interesting.
Joe also noticed that in the freezing rain, Alastor wasn’t shivering.
Hot enough to evaporate rain? Impressive!
Lightning struck.
This entrance was unbelievably picturesque. It was like watching a movie!
It was cold, but it was cool—like Alastor! Cold, but cool.
Like Alastor, who Joe just couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
From head to toe, that was the most badass man he’d ever seen.
Joe was proud to call him a friend.
Then, before Joe knew it, Alastor was mere inches away from him.
“I have some questions for you, Viewtiful Joe,” Alastor said, looking Joe dead in the eyes, sounding… intense .
“I have answers!” Joe beamed, doing his VJ hand sign, sounding a lot lighter in contrast to the setting and the friend with inquiries.
Alastor clamped his hand down on Joe’s shoulder, pulling the two closer together, which Joe, truthfully, did not mind.
Alastor’s other hand held his sword.
The rain persisted, trickling down Alastor’s helmet—making it nearly sparkle—and dripping down his visor, across his face, and onto his lips…
Joe watched the raindrops dancing in his view, hypnotized until those lips moved to speak.
“What are your strengths and weaknesses?!” Alastor yelled, shaking the shoulder he held.
Joe laughed lightly. “What is this, a job interview?”
Upon further inspection, it became clear that Alastor was shaking. It was cold, but Joe sensed this was from something else.
“Look, Joe, I’m just curious. We’re getting to know each other, right?” Alastor asked with a concerningly crazed lilt to his voice. “So why don’t you just answer me?”
The grip on his shoulder was too tight for his liking, so Joe, as gently as possible, plucked Alastor’s hand off him.
Alastor’s hand was hot. Joe almost flinched when he felt it in contrast to the frigid weather.
Joe noticed he’d spent too long processing Alastor’s question when the sword swung up and barely missed him with a swift dodge.
“ Answer me! ”
What had gotten into this guy?
“Whoa, dude, I don’t think you understand icebreakers!” Joe shouted back with another dodge.
“I’ll break you !” The intense, fiery glow of Alastor’s eyes threatened him.
“Huh?!”
Alastor swung so fast Joe couldn’t find a second to transform with the persisting need to dodge.
Every swish of the sword came closer and closer to success at slicing him.
There was one final blow Joe couldn’t dodge. Time seemed to slow, but only in his mind, as he saw the sharp edge of the blade growing closer and closer…
Joe winced, shutting his eyes in mental preparation, but no pain followed.
There was silence, save for the rain and heavy panting from both parties.
Joe hesitantly opened his eyes. Alastor was staring at the ground with his sword lowered (thank god).
“Uh… Alastor? You good?” Joe asked, on guard and testing the waters.
“This… isn’t a fair fight,” Alastor mumbled.
Joe bit his tongue at the urge to spew “no shit” as a reply.
“It’s not like we couldn’t make it fair,” Joe nodded to his V-Watch, “but I… think I’d rather talk than fight.”
Aside from his heavy breathing, Alastor stayed silent for a while.
Joe waited.
And once Alastor began to speak, Joe expected him to agree with the importance of communication, but all he said was:
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“O…kay, I can answer your question! My strengths and weaknesses… well I’ve got some cool powers, that’s a strength. Weaknesses, though, I’m not sure of—I dunno. I guess I could say I’m weak for burgers, but those give me strength,” he shrugged, and started to feel a bit hungry.
“What are yours?” Joe asked. He gave the best answers he could. It was a tough question.
“Why would I answer that?” Alastor said. Ever the hypocrite.
Joe decided against calling out his hypocrisy, though, because everything seemed to be a touchy subject around Alastor right about now.
Alastor stared back at the ground.
He was clearly going through something.
He seemed lost.
Joe wanted to find some way to help.
-
Alastor knew exactly what he was doing.
Alastor had it all figured out and there was no familiarly unfamiliar feeling suffocating him in this moment under the rain.
Alastor was direct but he was dissatisfied.
He wanted more.
He needed more.
Joe’s voice was muffled, and Alastor couldn’t bring his gaze up from the ground.
Not when he knew those eyes might just kill him on the spot.
It didn’t bother him. It was fine.
Alastor thanked the newfound ringing in his ears for draining out the far less pleasant sound of his enemy’s voice.
The sight before Alastor turned blurrier by the second.
The ground began spinning and Alastor found it difficult forming any thought, but before he could realize he was falling he felt something warm envelop him.
Despite himself, he looked up.
Oh .
Some one .
“Dude, are you okay?”
There were those startling, stabbing eyes, that Alastor loathed , staring down at him with the heroic, caring glint to them that made Alastor feel sick to his stomach.
And the arms wrapped around Alastor, exemplifying the mere strength of the hero and his ability to catch someone should they blunder.
What a show-off.
With the way Joe embraced him, Alastor felt he might even pass out—this was far, far too close for comfort.
“I—I’m fine! Get your hands off me!”
Alastor inhaled sharply, then shoved himself off Joe, standing up straight.
He needed to get away.
This was all Joe’s fault. Alastor was put under some sort of spell from these ludicrous antics.
“I’m—this… this is…” Alastor trailed off, realizing he should catch his breath before speaking.
At this rate, that felt like it’d take much longer than the time they had right then and there.
“All right, Alastor,” Joe said softly, taking a step closer.
Alastor stepped back, almost tripping over his own feet.
“You’re a very… complex guy, and I see that,” he took another step closer, “but I have a proposition for you.”
Joe’s voice echoed in Alastor’s ears, and he missed the ringing that blocked it out. He couldn’t stand to hear that voice. Especially not right now.
Alastor swallowed.
“What— what is it ?” The words tasted dry on his tongue and in his throat.
Alastor’s gaze darted from one green eye to the other. As much as those eyes disgusted him, he knew to hold his ground, and he wasn’t as stupid as the man standing before him.
“You should come see a movie with me!” Joe’s delicate tone shifted into its regular execrably excitable nature.
Over time, Alastor concluded that extended periods of exposure to Viewtiful Joe was an abhorrent idea, with this moment being the cherry on top of the inedible, unstable cake, and this proposition of Joe’s would just dig this hole far too deep.
Alastor thought for a moment—which proved to be more difficult than it should have been—about the pros and cons of accepting this request.
This entire ordeal began with Alastor aiming to inspect his foe. The amount in which Alastor detested Joe seemed to get in the way and blind him of his goal.
If Alastor could get over that, he would be unstoppable. And there was no challenge in taking the easy way out.
Alastor would learn to be comfortable around Joe.
No feeling would get in his way.
Through this, there would be no unnecessary discomfort in taking him down.
So, Alastor accepted.
-
Joe was more than ready to show Alastor the ins and outs of movie-watching.
He led Alastor through the entrance with grace—by the hand, which seemed to silence him for some reason—bought them each a large soda and one large bag of popcorn for them to share.
Buttering the popcorn proved to be a challenge for Alastor when Joe showed him how; there was this dispenser with a button to press while he held the popcorn underneath, and nothing came out so he continued to press and press—Joe worried he might break the machine even more—until it finally began to work, and soon enough the butter to popcorn ratio was entirely disproportionate. Joe didn’t mind though; the more butter, the better!
An arcade connected to the movie theatre. Joe noted Alastor’s smile when challenged to a game of air hockey. When Alastor was beaten by Joe, it shifted back to its usual grimace. Those few minutes were worthwhile, though.
Joe’s goal was to make Alastor chill out and have fun. And he was determined to reach it.
After checking the time, the two then made their way to their seats.
The theatre was dimly lit and the seats were scattered with couples cuddling—cute, but what was even cooler was the joys of watching a movie! Joe was ecstatic about sharing this occasion with someone less experienced.
He turned to Alastor, who appeared to be scanning the area, looking a little apprehensive. He jumped when Joe placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but quickly calmed.
Joe clasped Alastor’s hand in his once more to lead them to their spot.
They sat down beside each other in red cushioned seats with sleek wooden armrests, each equipped with the cupholders in which they slid their drinks.
With perfect timing, once they were settled, the lights began to dim, and Joe prepared himself to watch another masterpiece.
-
Alastor wished Joe would stop suddenly grabbing his hand. It was disorienting… but Alastor aimed to defeat the power of distraction, and conquer the clouding of his brain, and maybe the most efficient way to do that was to initiate .
Two could play at this game.
But holding onto Joe’s hand would be too repetitive. Alastor needed to do something more .
So, as the movie flickered onto the screen, Alastor stealthily slid his arm out from his side and draped it over Joe’s shoulders.
… Keep your enemies closer , Alastor told himself. He wouldn’t let the way his face heated up pull him away.
Alastor would persevere.
He took one glance at Joe; the man wasn’t looking back at him. His eyes were glued to the superhero action ahead of them.
The realization occurred to Alastor that he hadn’t been watching. He’d been too fixed on Joe and his… insanity —for good reason, too.
Then, Alastor attempted to focus on the movie…
Alastor saw a hero fighting a villain who threatened to destroy an entire city and rule the world along the way, and heard action music play for extra measure, and then Joe leaned onto his shoulder —
Alastor gawked at how Joe’s gaze still hadn’t been torn away from the screen, and he just… leaned into Alastor’s touch, unfazed .
How on earth could Joe do such a thing?! Absurdity!
Joe looked comfortable. He was smiling—more than before, that is.
Gazing at Joe, Alastor found himself longing for that same contentment, but that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Alastor would be content once he’d defeated his rival.
The excitement in Joe’s eyes was almost infectious.
His oblivious, happy-go-lucky rival.
-
“So? What did you think?!” Joe asked Alastor eagerly.
The buttery taste of popcorn still lingered on Joe’s tongue as he reflected. That movie was just as amazing as always.
Alastor was rather silent on the way out of the theatre, but Joe didn’t think much of it; sometimes these movies would leave him speechless, too.
“Oh, it was uh…” Alastor trailed off.
He seemed to be searching for a word.
“Cool? Awesome? Amazing?” Joe filled in the blank.
“Yeah… all three of those.”
“See?” Joe put a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “Movies solve every problem that a burger can’t!”
At that, Alastor chuckled and looked back at him, which was new, since it seemed like he’d been avoiding eye contact all day.
Seeing Alastor’s smile once more and hearing him laugh, Joe had to admit he was pretty cute. It had to be clear to anybody who could see.
Before Joe could revel in his success at bringing a smile upon his invitee’s face, Alastor’s expression contorted into something of brief shock, then distaste.
“Something wrong?” Joe asked.
“No, I just—” Alastor shrugged Joe’s hand off his shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
“Well… do you wanna get some burgers?”
“I, um, should get going,” Alastor said, turning toward the exits.
“Wait!”
Suddenly, he was in such a rush, and Joe wished to know why . It was as if a switch had been flipped.
And Joe wanted to flip it back to the guy smiling and laughing just a moment ago.
Joe grabbed Alastor’s hand before he could leave, and he tensed but turned to face him.
“When do you wanna meet up again?”
Joe wondered if he had food on his face with the way Alastor stared blankly back at him.
“... We’re doing this regularly now, right?” Joe elaborated.
Joe noticed the way Alastor slid out from his grasp slowly, letting his hand linger, almost as if he didn’t truly want to.
“I guess I’m… free whenever you are,” he mumbled.
“Okay!”
-
Alastor couldn’t sleep once more. It was like something in him broke; why would he ever smile and laugh with Joe rather than at him?
Something was wrong with him.
Maybe Alastor had hit his head or something. Maybe he was poisoned.
Come to think of it… he never did inspect whatever was in that drink at the theatre.
Or maybe the overly-buttered popcorn messed with his senses.
Alastor placed a hand against his face. Maybe Joe was sick, and that’s why whenever they came in contact Alastor felt feverish.
It didn’t seem to be pure hatred anymore.
Illness might have been the most reasonable explanation.
Maybe the hatred fueled it.
Whatever it was, Alastor would discern and obliterate it, just like Joe.
-
The next meet-up was at another arcade. Alastor didn’t know why they couldn't have just gone to the previous one, but Joe insisted that this one was far higher on the ‘scale of extravagance ’.
As the two walked inside, Joe ran to inspect each game and evaluate which they should try first, but Alastor stood back.
This arcade was very… neon. Every game had a large, eye-catching fluorescent sign. Colourful wheels were being spun and boatloads of tickets were spewed from each of those little slots in the machines.
It was quite noisy too: the sounds of bells dinging and coin insertions and ticket dispensations rang in Alastor’s ears.
There were many small children here, too.
The floors were carpeted with a variety of colourful shapes against a dark purple-blue background. This seemed like a poor interior design choice, because carpets were easy to stain.
The arcade had a scent of pizza, soda, and burgers— of course .
Before Alastor knew it, Joe was grabbing him by the hand again—and Alastor shook the wonder of why his face heated up from his mind—and dragging him to a machine filled with stuffed animals and items of various shapes, colours and sizes.
Joe pressed his face and hands up against the glass, yanking Alastor’s hand with him. The glass was cold, which made it a little refreshing, but the amount of unknown sticky hands that could have touched it made Alastor pull away.
There was a joystick controlling the claw inside the machine, with a big red button in the centre of it.
“We gotta try this!”
This looked like an impossibly challenging waste of time.
Joe turned eagerly, locking eyes with Alastor.
The sparkling look in Joe’s eyes was akin to the way he gazed at a burger the moment before he ate it, or the look he wielded at the mention of a movie.
“Maybe one game won’t hurt,” Alastor obliged.
-
“Alastor, it’s fine, really, we should go try some other games!”
One game didn’t hurt, but Joe guessed they were on game fifty by now.
And it definitely hurt his wallet.
“ No! ” Alastor yelled.
He wouldn’t peel his eyes away from the game for even a single second. Joe could see drops of sweat dripping down his face.
“I really don’t need the stuffies, I swear—”
“This isn’t about the toy !”
Joe knew it was about pride. No matter what it was, Alastor had to win it. In hindsight, a notoriously difficult and borderline unbeatable arcade game may have not been the best idea for Alastor.
But it was too late now, so Joe resignedly handed him another quarter.
Alastor’s determination never wavered, not even after many, many failures. It was commendable, really.
The claw hovered over a stuffed burger, and Alastor pressed the button.
Joe watched in shock as the claw lowered and grasped the burger, lifting it—without dropping—and sliding to the large opening in the corner, where it then let go.
Alastor pulled the toy out of the machine, threw it at Joe, and crossed his arms like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Joe caught the toy and admired it. It was a burger with a smiley face and little pink spots of blush sewn on and yarn arms and legs sticking out the sides and bottom. Admittedly, despite the quantity of attempts, he was in awe.
Joe mirrored the burger’s expression with a smile of his own.
“Can I keep this?” Joe asked, hugging the burger. It was bigger than his head.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?” Alastor asked.
“Well… ‘cause you won it?” Joe answered, holding it by the arms and making it dance.
“Yeah, because of you. So you keep it.”
Not missing the way Alastor’s cheeks flushed, Joe smirked.
Somebody was warming up to him.
“Besides, why would I even want that?” he rushed to add on, beginning to walk toward the other games.
“As a token of victory, duh!” Joe caught up with him.
“Whatever.”
As the two strolled around, Joe got an idea.
He grabbed Alastor’s hand, opened his closed fist, placed the yarn hand of the stuffed burger in his palm and closed it again.
Surprisingly, Alastor let Joe do this without recoiling. Although, confusion was written on his face and in the way he said “what the hell?” while it happened.
Joe held the other hand of the burger, and it swung between them while they walked.
“What… is this?” Alastor asked, gesturing toward his hand.
“We’re all holding hands now!” Joe answered. He thought it was cute—two guys and their little happy burger friend. What could be cuter than that?!
Alastor laughed again. “This is stupid.”
“Alastor, have you ever considered that stupid can be fun?” Joe asked.
Alastor looked away.
Joe didn’t get an answer.
But, with the flimsy arm of the stuffed toy dangling from his fist, Alastor didn’t let go.
-
It was funny how a feeling like detestation could disguise itself as amusement.
Alastor knew how he truly felt, no matter how many times Joe regarded them as friends or buddies or partners in crime (wasn’t Joe a hero, anyway?), Alastor knew none of it was true.
They were enemies, nothing less and nothing more.
Any fun Alastor had was from toying with his enemy. He had Joe wrapped around his finger, thinking that Alastor actually enjoyed being around him.
The thought made him chuckle.
Joe was the most laughably oblivious foe in the world!
Some fun they were having.
Their next outing was at a carnival.
And Alastor burned with anticipation.
-
Joe made sure to steer Alastor away from the carnival games in the interest of time and money. Plus, the arcade game was a machine, and these carnival games were hosted by living people, so subjecting them to Alastor would have been far more dangerous.
They tried all sorts of deep-fried foods, most of which were filled head to toe with sugar, which, much to Joe’s amusement, Alastor seemed to absolutely love.
It was dark out by now, which made the carnival light up underneath the sparkling sky dotted with stars.
The two sat at an empty picnic table with green metal benches on either side. The view across Joe of Alastor enjoying the mini doughnuts was so incredibly cute. As much as Joe would have happily told him that, Alastor was warming up to him little by little , so he refrained. But if the consistent blushing and catching-him-staring was any indication, Joe suspected this feeling might have been mutual.
Speaking of staring, Alastor was doing it right about now.
The way Alastor looked at Joe had changed over these past few outings from a death glare to a simple gaze, and Joe had noticed the shift.
Maybe calling him cute wouldn’t hurt.
“Hey, do I have something on my face?” Joe teased and took delight in Alastor’s contorted expression.
“What? No, but knowing your table manners it’s only a matter of time,” the insult fell flat accompanied by the way his face turned pink.
“You’re cute,” Joe commented, just to see him turn pinker.
“ What?! ”
“You heard me.”
“You’re weird, Joe,” Alastor crossed his arms over his chest and averted his gaze.
“Whatever you say, cutie!~” Joe sang, winking.
Joe could have called Alastor as red as a tomato, but with his purple skin, it was more of a deep magenta.
“Do not call me that, ever.”
Joe chuckled, then wondered what sort of hang-out could be most akin to a date.
-
The two sat across each other in a dimly lit… burger place. It was dinner. Joe had asked Alastor out to dinner.
Joe had taken a fake tea light from his pocket, switched it on, and placed it at the centre of the table.
“Did you really have to bring… that?” Alastor asked, pointing at the stuffed burger toy he’d won in the arcade the other day sitting at the side of the table in a chair of its own.
Joe shrugged. “I didn’t see why not.”
“I can think of a million reasons why.”
Alastor took a bite of his burger. There was way more ketchup than anticipated, but other than that, it was actually pretty good.
Alastor then gawked at the sight of Joe dousing his burger patty with even more of the stuff.
“You always shower burgers with praise and affection, but I think your favourite food might actually be ketchup,” Alastor teased.
“Nah, man. Ketchup is just a condiment to enhance the burger eating experience!”
Maybe Joe’s lack of smarts was from spending his time inspecting and perfecting the intricacies of burger consumption.
“Then I suppose it’s your favourite… enhancement tool?”
“Very true!”
Alastor found himself laughing. Joe was so weird.
Alastor watched the way Joe reveled in his ketchup application.
Joe was so… easily pleased? Joe was the kind of guy who could find happiness in the smallest of things. It was like… even in the direst of situations, he could, and would , find some thing to lift his mood.
It was mostly burgers, or movies, or superheroes, but other times Alastor couldn’t tell. Was it just… living ? Maybe Joe was simply happy to exist. Honestly, it almost seemed that was it.
Alastor desired to know all the reasons Joe smiled, as it was a ni—interesting sight.
“What are you so happy about?” Joe asked him.
Alastor realized he had been smiling, as well.
“Oh—nothing. I was just… thinking.”
Alastor recognized the familiar heat of his face. With how frequent it’d become, he almost stopped noticing it entirely, but it had gained prominence now.
Joe leaned forward, and as much as Alastor wanted to lean away, something kept him locked in place. “About what?”
Joe’s breath smelled like ketchup.
“About…” Alastor started but got distracted in the close-up view of Joe’s eyes.
Alastor closed his own eyes to compose himself. “I was thinking about life,” which, in a way, was true.
“And you were smiling…” Joe repeated to himself. “Are you happy with yours?”
Alastor opened his eyes. “What?”
“Are you happy with your life?”
“Um…”
What an intrusive question.
Alastor thought about it for a moment. The one thing that brought him true happiness was victory against an enemy. And he knew that working toward defeating Joe was in turn working toward happiness. All of these… ‘ hang-outs ’ that had been contributing toward that, and nearing his goal more and more each time, and making fun of Joe’s stupidity, were putting Alastor in a bit better of a mood, he realized.
“I’m getting there,” he replied lightly to the man with no sense of personal space.
Joe smiled his big toothy smile and Alastor felt the fiery feeling that had calmed wrap around him once more.
Once he defeated Joe, life would be good.
No, not good.
Life would be marvelous .
Suddenly, Joe grabbed both of Alastor’s hands and squeezed them tightly. Alastor almost choked despite there being no food in his mouth.
“I’m proud of you, you know?”
Alastor zipped his mouth shut.
What on earth was he talking about? What reason did any hero ever have to be proud of a villain?
But then again, Joe wasn’t just any hero.
He was different.
Alastor didn’t know why, but he was.
Then, Joe continued:
“You know what Junior keeps telling me? It’s hilarious! He keeps saying you’ve got some sort of ulterior motive .”
Alastor felt something sharp in his chest.
“Like, maybe you want me to ‘let my guard down before you attack’ or something. It’s silly, because I know that’s not true. We’re even eating burgers together to prove it!”
Alastor quickly looked down from Joe, at the burgers, at Alastor’s with one bite missing and Joe’s with one bite left—a perfect match. At least the dining portion of Joe’s words reigned true.
“And I always knew you weren’t so bad. And I’m glad that you admitted wanting to hang out with me, too. Like, dude, you and I are good now! Isn’t that just awesome?”
Alastor kept his gaze fixed on the burgers. If he didn’t look at Joe, he wouldn’t need to acknowledge the excruciatingly genuine tone in his voice believing Alastor had changed when he hadn’t.
Joe’s hands were warmer than his—they were still being held.
“Isn’t that viewtiful ?” Joe added.
Joe was wrong in everything he said and Alastor knew it. Nothing about the way Joe perceived this relationship held an iota of truth.
Alastor had known that before, and he knew it now.
But should he deny Joe’s words and out his true intentions or comply?
Alastor couldn’t discern why neither option was favourable. The pounding of his heart distracted him.
That stupid feeling came back in full swing, and he felt he could drown in it. Maybe this was how he would go: trapped at a lame and greasy excuse for class while his enemy showered him in praise for being good .
It wouldn’t go away. It just wouldn’t go away.
He needed to get out of there but he couldn’t move. He needed to stay.
The funny thing about a battle with oneself was that no matter what, one would emerge simultaneously as the winner and the loser.
So, with the last bit of willpower he had left, he stood up and ran without a word.
Joe called after him but he was already out the door, leaving behind nothing but the jingle of the entrance bell.
Alastor didn’t get very far, though. He collapsed to his knees outside the entrance.
His whole world was spinning.
He was dying to know how to ease that feeling that never seemed to stop eating away at him ever since he’d met that fool.
He needed to kill him .
But every time they got close it felt… it felt… lesser… but greater at the same time. That didn’t make any sense. None of it made any sense.
He didn’t know if it ever would.
Alastor wasn’t in control anymore.
He didn’t know if he ever was.
This feeling… it made him act differently. Clearly. What kind of villain would go on a series of adventures with his enemy?
Maybe Alastor was the stupid one.
This was all because of…
Joe.
Joe asked him to lunch, and Joe was forgiving, and Joe was consistent, and Joe was constant, and Joe was such a bother, and Alastor couldn’t ever get away from him.
“Alastor?”
He flinched.
Not even right now.
Alastor felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and it did that thing where it fanned the flame within him that at this point he wished would just burn out before he passed out.
Alastor couldn’t look at Joe.
He couldn’t think about Joe.
Every time, every time, every time it just drove him insane .
It was happening right now.
It was too much to bear.
This overwhelming unfamiliarity would be the beast that bested the bad guy.
What a shameful, worthless way to go.
His mind had been twisting and turning in places it never had before. In places Alastor never willed it to.
Shouldn’t a brain and a body obey their master?
The muffled sounds of Joe’s voice made him feel it even more. This experience was sickeningly familiar.
It was almost a sense of longing.
Alastor felt like he could hear everything and nothing at the same time. That restaurant bell continued to ring and ring and ring as if someone couldn’t decide whether they truly wanted to dine.
Alastor had always known what he wanted.
He had always known what he needed to do.
He’d always known what he was destined to do.
It was the only thing he could always be absolutely sure of, with not even a single trace of doubt.
At all.
But now… no. He still needed to defeat Joe.
Defeating an enemy was all he’d known to do.
It was his sole purpose as a warrior. It was who he was .
And what was the point of any of it without a purpose?
Anything other than fighting and battle just wasn’t in the stars for Alastor. It never had been, and it never would be.
Alastor felt like his world was shaken.
Then, he realized he was literally being shaken.
By the shoulders.
By Joe.
“Alastor, are you okay?!” Joe’s concern stung Alastor’s ears.
Alastor opened his eyes. Everything was blurry.
“I’m—” Alastor’s words got caught in his throat. He hadn’t realized how fast he was breathing.
“You were blacking out. Stay with me, alright?”
Alastor gritted his teeth.
He didn’t want to.
When Alastor stood up his whole world tilted sideways, but he caught himself on the window ledge before Joe could heroically save him. Then he slapped Joe’s hands away.
“Are—are you okay?” Joe asked, and his voice was far more hesitant than Alastor had heard it ever before.
Alastor waited for his vision to clear and his breath to even out before he spoke.
“ Are you insane? !” he shouted.
“Huh?!”
Joe was dumbfounded. Of course.
“You and I are enemies,” Alastor pushed Joe back with an index finger against his chest. “E-N-E-M-I-E-S. Enemies! And you know what enemies do?”
Joe opened his mouth to reply but Alastor wouldn’t have it.
“They fight until one of them DIES! ”
Joe stayed silent this time, just staring back at him.
Alastor didn’t know if it was a look of fear or sorrow.
Alastor did not care.
“And you know what we’ve been doing this whole time? Nothing! Enemies don’t go out for lunch. Enemies don’t have picnics. Enemies don’t… don’t win prizes for each other! Enemies don’t ‘hang out’ together! That’s not what they’re supposed to—that’s not what we’re supposed to do!” Alastor yelled, covering his face with his hands as he caught his breath once more.
“You said I could have that prize,” Joe commented, uneasily, “You gave it to me.”
“Ugh!” Alastor felt his anger overtake him, but he just didn’t care. “That’s the thing, Joe! You’re messing with my head! I can’t think straight anymore at all because of you and this stupid feeling that never goes away because you never go away and it’s just getting worse and worse and worse! This is all your fault! ”
Joe stared back blankly. Joe was so stupid.
Then, he smirked, and Alastor didn’t know why .
What reason could this idiot possibly have to be smiling during a conversation like this?
Not even for once could he take anything seriously?
Alastor grabbed Joe by the collar of his shirt, pulled him close, and stared daggers into his eyes.
“ What is it?! ”
Joe tilted Alastor’s face closer with a gentle hand under the chin. The two were now mere millimetres apart.
“I think I know what that feeling might be, Alastor,” Joe nearly whispered. The sound of his voice rattled Alastor’s brain one last time.
Alastor stayed silent, trying to figure out Joe just like he’d been trying and failing to do all this time.
History repeated itself.
All that remained was the soft and not-so-soft sounds of breathing and the wisps of wind cooling them down.
Alastor inspected Joe.
His eyes were big and flashy and shiny and sparkling the same way they always, always did. Those eyes always had light in them, it was so…
There were beads of sweat dripping down Joe’s face. Alastor supposed the stress of being ditched at dinner and finding his company crumpled against the concrete outside might be rather sweat-inducing. Or maybe he was just… hot.
Alastor tried to read past the physicality of this situation. He longed to see through Joe’s eyes and into his innermost thoughts and feelings the same way it seemed Joe did and would always do to him.
While disheveled and distractable mere moments ago, Joe looked… more content than he had before. He looked like someone who knew the hopes and dreams of everyone he knew and everyone he was yet to meet. He looked like he’d seen the way everything will turn out in his favour and boundless happiness paved the years to come.
Alastor felt that Joe read his thoughts and replied to them through his startling stare into his soul. Joe had always done that. It was like his eyes were more weakening than any of his superpowers.
Alastor saw in Joe a happy person who spread the little joys of life to everyone who would and wouldn’t accept it.
Alastor saw in Joe someone who could know what would happen in the next five seconds and the next five months and the next five years with a snap of his fingers. His eyes told that the future was bright.
Alastor saw in Joe his equal.
Alastor saw in Joe his match.
Alastor saw in Joe someone who complemented him perfectly, in every way imaginable.
Alastor saw in Joe who his destiny laid with.
Alastor saw in Joe a guy whose face was very, very close to his own.
The air was calm and cool.
Alastor knew that every time he searched for an answer in Joe he resurfaced with more undying questions—this could very well have been a fruitless journey.
But after coming this far, what sense did it make to surrender?
Alastor slid his gaze from Joe’s eyes down to his nose.
Alastor was determined. Alastor would persevere. He knew to do anything it took and nothing less.
That’s what led them here, after all.
He would search, and search, and search until something, anything useful came about.
Something worthwhile.
These boundless efforts and recuperations would not be in vain.
Lastly, Alastor’s gaze dropped to Joe’s lips.
His eyes lingered there for a moment.
All at once, Alastor saw in Joe an answer.
Then, Alastor felt a once so strange but familiar feeling pull him just a little closer, in turn sealing the space between them.
Joe seemed to meet him halfway.
The red lights flashing in Alastor’s mind were dimmed to a blackout by a met desire that something within him had been chasing through heat and smiles and blushes and gazes and laughter, and this was what it needed to win.
All the aggravating uncertainty and curiosity dissipated, leaving nothing less than absolute satisfaction.
The tension once boiling and bursting released itself and rolled off into nothingness, bringing, for the first time in forever, a sense of calm .
Alastor didn’t pull away.
The relentlessly repeating rules of rivals’ rights and wrongs once rolling through his head were numbed to silence because nothing in the universe had ever felt so incredibly, unbelievably right .
Purpose, destiny, everything drifted away, leaving only now. Alastor guessed this must have been what it was to live truly in the moment. All that mattered was now. No past, no future, only the present.
Alastor’s head felt fuzzy, in the best way. His total awareness laid in nothing but the way Joe’s lips pressed up against his, and he didn’t give even a single, fleeting care.
This was different. This was new. This was stronger than anything and everything he’d ever felt before. This made him weak, and this gave him strength. This overwhelmed his senses while simultaneously numbing them. It confused him, and it was the first time he felt he could truly understand anything.
Something washed over him. It couldn’t be named, but Alastor paid that no mind. It was something of which he desired more. It was akin to the feeling that brought about a smile and a laugh once in a blue moon, but far greater in intensity.
He felt himself loosen . Someone as tightly wound as him was seriously due for a kiss or two every once in a while, because wow, did it do wonders.
For once, with this feeling at the wheel, Alastor let himself give up control. This feeling engulfed him and he felt himself allowing it, without fighting back. Just for this joyride.
It felt good .
-
Under the glittering night sky, that feeling was a gravitational pull, connecting two more than likely souls together though subtlety and not so much subtlety.
A hero and a villain… after a series of dates, found themselves lip-locked outside a dimly lit burger joint.
It was funny like that.
-
Joe pulled away slowly—and reluctantly, because it seemed as though Alastor hadn’t had enough yet—just to check in.
“So, was I right about that feeling?” Joe asked slyly between breaths.
“I… uh…”
Alastor was totally and utterly dazed. That filled Joe with a sense of pride.
Alastor didn’t say anything. He just pulled Joe closer once more, and Joe couldn’t complain one bit.
Maybe it was just all that pent-up emotional tension but… Joe had to admit it,
Alastor was a damn good kisser.