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Alastor has a date today.
It’s why he combed through his hair, allowing some of the curls to frame his face just the way you liked. It’s why he painstakingly waited for the coals to heat up before chucking them into an iron, and smoothening any wrinkles from his clothes.
The only thing out of place is the bowtie around his neck, tilted just a little bit towards the right. It’s a small enough tilt that none should be able to notice, but you’re always looking.
Alastor plays the scenario through his mind.
There would be a small smile across your lips as you walk through the hotel, then you would see that slight tilt on his bowtie. Alastor would lean down to give you more access, and he would steal a kiss from those lips.
The bowtie is supposed to be the only thing out of place.
Yet Charlie cradles a wailing baby that just so happens to be Angel Dust.
It would be quite the hilarious situation if Angel Dust’s wailing weren’t piercing his ears.
Charlie holds him even closer, trying to rock him into any state of calmness. There’s a strained smile on his lips as Vaggie adds to the noise, shaking a rattle at the baby.
Alastor has a date today, thus that little baby will not be his problem.
Charlies trues to keep a happy expression, even as mysterious liquids stain her shirt. “This is going to be a difficult twenty-four hours,” she says, slumping her shoulders a bit. “Fuck . . . Oh, shit! Sorry. Am I even doing this right?”
“It’s alright, babe.” Vaggie shakes the rattle once more, trying to distract the wailing baby. “We can do this together.”
Angel Dust only wails louder this time.
Alastor sighs that deep, deep, sigh. The things he does for you. In a few minutes, you would be arriving, and all this noise would hurt those sensitive ears of yours. So, Alastor takes one last deep breath and says, “Oh, give him here.”
The look of apprehension Vaggie gives him is only natural. Alastor rolls his eyes all the way to the side, yet says nothing about it.
Still, he takes the baby from Charlie before she can fully protest. It’s easy to nuzzle Angel Dust against his shoulder, and pat him on the back until a burp comes out. The wailing quiets down into small babbles.
Charlie’s eyes sparkle a little. “You’re good with babies!”
There’s also a sparkle in Vaggie’s eyes that Alastor doesn’t quite like. Perhaps, that’s why he says, “I have a dat—”
“Thanks so much Alastor!” Vaggie pushes Charlie towards the door, already half-way out when she turns back towards him. “We owe you one. We’ll check-in after a few hours.”
The door slams shut, and Alastor is left with a baby resting on his chest. How fortunate for Angel Dust that Alastor holds him in his arms, rocking the baby a little.
. . . Fuck.
Alastor can’t parade a baby across Hell.
There’s a small knock on the door, and all annoyance gets thrown out the window when you step inside.
The door closes behind you with a click. There’s a smile on your face even as your head tilts all the way to the side when you spot the baby. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says, a proud smile on his lips even as Angel Dust babbles at him.
The base of his ears flicker downwards before Alastor forces them up. It would be easy to explain the situation, yet an easy explanation doesn’t mean an easy situation. Then and there, Alastor realizes that he would have to cancel their date.
You point towards his bowtie
Alastor leans closer towards you, carefully supporting Angel Dust’s head, and bends down until your fingers reach for his bowtie. It’s automatic for you to straighten the thing, thus it’s automatic to nudge your face, and steal a kiss right from those lips.
If Alastor can’t have his date, he’ll at least take this.
A small laugh escapes you when Angel Dust reaches for his face, smacking his cheek with those tiny fists. The faint hum of radio static settled on his skin. Its inconvenient to have to kill the sound before the babbles turn into wailing.
Alastor rolls his eyes all the way to the side, but rocks the infant against him. “Don’t you start, dearest.”
“I wouldn’t dare. That’s a lie—I totally would.” You press a kiss across his cheek. “But the baby is certainly new.”
“Not my idea.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “I certainly hope it wasn’t.”
Alastor grumbles a little but lowers the infant to your height. There’s something oddly domestic about the way you run the back of your fingers across his cheek.
“It’s Angel Dust,” he says, simply even when it isn’t. “Apparently, we’ve been given a baby for a day.”
Your eyes roll in such a dramatic fashion, and Alastor is almost proud. “We?”
“Ever so brightly, Charlie had this idea in her head to experiment with a book full of spells,” Alastor says, laughing until his eyes wobble toward the side. “What belongs to me, belongs to you as well—So yes, we. But should you wish to be an absent mother, be my guest.”
“One of those spells turned Angel Dust into a baby?”
“Obviously.” Alastor flicks your nose, and retreats just in time to dodge the hand that would slap him away.
There’s a moment where you stare at the infant, and there’s an even longer moment where Alastor stares at you.
Today was supposed to be about time, all the time Alastor missed when he died, when he left for seven years. Yet here he is once more, letting what was supposed to be an eternity together slip through his fingers.
You take the infant from his arms, and collapse one of the couches, inhaling that sweet scent that babies always seem to have.
“We can’t bring an infant with us across town. Think about the headlines!” you say, laughing a little. “I guess we’ll have to postpone our date.”
There’s such easy casualness in the way you cancel the date. It draws out that faint hum of radio static.
“Deerest, don’t pout too much,” you say. “I’m already here. We can make the most out of today.”
Alastor stares at you, and ignores the way his ears flicker.
“There’s no need for such things,” he says, summoning his microphone just to twirl it around the air. “I’ve already categorized you as an absent mother to all our future children. Go ahead and leave us like the heartless woman you are.”
It’s a small laugh that escapes you. “I just might.”
The base of his ears flickers down again. Alastor ignores that too, but forces them up again anyway. These brief glimpses of you will never be enough, but Alastor still cherishes every second of it.
“Or . . . Well, I could stay the night.” You press your lips across the Angel Dust’s cheek, giving it a light kiss. “Surely, you could use the help. Would that be allowed?”
Alastor blinks at you for a second, and finds himself saying, “Of course.”
There’s a small but bright smile on your lips, and you try to hide it by pressing your face against the infant. “I’ll go back home to fetch some clothes and a few items,” you say. “It will be a quick trip. I’m sure Angel Dust could use a few items as well.”
Alastor settles on the couch, pressing himself so close that the hotel cushions dip into the wood. It’s unfair of you to make such an expression and try to hide away from him.
The tips of his claws find your chin, and tilt your face until he meets your eyes. “Don’t.”
“Deerest, I can’t just wear the same clothes overnight.”
“I’ll have one of the puppets grab your clothes.” Alastor brushes a thumb across the bottom of your lip. “Just . . . Just stay.”
You cradle Angel Dust against your chest, and lean closer when Alastor pulls you into a kiss. “Read to us?” you say, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
Alastor pulls you into another kiss, pressing you so deep into you just to ensure you’re actually here. But you’re kissing him back, and those lips of yours are so warm it couldn’t be anything else but reality.
He brushes his thumb across your eyelid, prompting them to open. “I suppose I could read to you,” he says. “If I absolutely must.”
Angel Dust is a surprisingly easy infant.
Alastor dresses him in various fun clothing before setting on a simple shirt and some overalls. If there are feathers printed on the little shirt, then that’s definitely his business, and no one else's.
The overalls cover most of the feathers, but Alastor allows it to be their little secret.
There’s a happy tune that Alastor whistles. It’s easy to make such noises as you settle a hand around his arm, and walk across the forest in his room. Even Angel Dust seems content to rest his head on Alastor’s shoulders, soothed by the faint breeze between the trees.
It’s a rare thing for you to cross the boundary between the room and the trees, and a picnic with an infant is better than no picnic at all. So, Alastor will count this as a win.
Angel Dust has developed a habit of playing within the feathers on your head, and Alastor can almost admit it’s kind of . . . adorable. It’s a simple task to make sure the infant doesn’t tug on them too much.
You take the ends of your feather, and brush it across Angel Dust’s nose. “This is becoming quite the date, deerest.”
“I try my best.” Alastor stretches his legs over your lap just to be annoying. “See how nice it is here? And yet you refuse to enter every time I invite you.”
There’s a moment where you roll your eyes, but Angel Dust babbles a little, and laughs when your feathers tickle his cheek. The edges of your smile soften, and Alastor cannot find any fault with how today happened.
“Look at how adorable he is,” you say. “Do you think Angel Dust will remember this?”
Alastor steals a kiss from you, whether or not Angel Dust will remember. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”
You laugh a little as Alastor peppers kisses on your face, a tooth grin on his face.
Angel Dust settles on your arms, greedily consuming the milk bottle.
There’s much to be calm about—a full belly, warm arms, and a chair that rocks your bodies. The rhythmic swaying of the rocking chair lulls you as well. It wouldn’t be long until you’d find yourself wishing for a nap.
Charlie walks in with a small smile, and the most apologetic sheen in her eyes. It doesn’t take long for her to take a seat across the rocking chair. “I’m sorry about running your date,” she says, whispering a bit. “Niffty mentioned it to me. I didn’t know.”
“Don’t worry about it too much, dear. You didn’t ruin anything.” You adjust the milk bottle, slowing down the amount of milk Angel Dust consumes. “Alastor and I had a splendid time today, and eternity offers countless more dates!”
“Still . . .”
“Do you want to know a secret?” you say, brushing a thumb across Angel Dust’s cheek with a smile. “I like children, and try as he might, Alastor is partial to them as well. He hated those who would dare to hurt even the most annoying ones.”
Charlie takes a peek at the infant, cooing a little as Angel Dust grips your finger. It’s easy to lower him and allow Charlie more access. “You’re amazing at this,” she says, voice a twinge softer. “Did you have any children?”
“That’s quite the question.”
Charlie winces a little. “Shit”—she glances at Angel Dust— “Shit! Sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . . You don’t have to answer that.”
“I’m just pulling your leg.” You grab the bottle from Angel Dust once the last drop of milk has been greedily consumed, and proceed to tap his back to burp him. “But goodness, no. We never wanted one.”
Charlie glances at you with bright eyes, but only runs a finger across Angel Dust’s cheek when you lower him further. It’s quite adorable to see her eyes wobble with that shine. “How come?”
There are quite a few reasons as to why you and Alastor never had children, explaining them to Charlie would be a bit of a headache.
“I think it’s precisely because we like children,” you say, instead. “Children are a light to the world, for they have the potential to become anything. Each one deserves to be loved. It wouldn’t be right of us to bring a child into our lives.”
Charlie frowns a little. “But you’re capable of love,” she says. “No matter how much you or Alastor try to deny it, I see it every time I look at you.”
There are deer antlers embroidered into the inside of Angel Dust’s clothes. You secretly embroidered it with a thread so brown it reminds you of eyes that only exist in memory now.
“I’m not saying we can’t.” You trace the deer antlers with a small smile. “It’s true that I love deeply and unconditionally, but it’s also selfish and limited. Love wouldn’t be a guarantee, and that alone wouldn’t be fair to them.”
“That’s . . . That’s really sweet.”
“Maybe in another lifetime we could have had a child,” you say, rocking the chair with your foot. “Although, I hope I won't end up like your mother. Can you imagine? Nine months of pregnancy only for them to be a copy of Alastor!”
Charlie smiles a bit when Angel Dust clutches her fingers with those tiny fists. “Do you think about it often?”
“Not really,” you say. “But it’s nice to imagine a little girl with Alastor’s nose, or a fully grown gentleman with my eyes. Would he be interested in the sciences? Would she love the thrill of performing? . . . Still, I’m content to never find out if it means never subjecting them to us.”
Charlie is a bit hesitant, but you eventually coerce her into holding Angel Dust. There’s a little smile on her face when he doesn’t cry.
All in all, today was a good day.
There’s a finger poking your cheek, pulling you from sleep. It’s easy to ignore, and it’s even easier to nuzzle your face deeper into Alastor’s chest . . . until, of course, he starts slamming his finger on your cheek like a broken button.
You open an eye, and glowing radio dials and a sharp smile stare back at you.
It takes a single blink before Alastor returns to normal, and the glow from his eyes disappear. “Oh good!” he says, casually. “You’re awake!”
There’s a deep sigh that threatens to escape you. Instead, you brush a strand of his hair away from his face. Those fingers of yours linger on for a moment, then just a little bit longer after that.
“Yes, I would. Enough to build a little habitat for your worm-body to thrive in. There would be endless leaves and plants for you to chow on,” you say, and press a kiss on the edges of his lips. “Now that matter is settled, I’m going back to sleep before the baby starts to cry.
Alastor settles you deeper into his hold, but pinches your cheek until your eyes open again. “Since you’ve woken up on your own, you can tell me what’s been running through that pretty, little head of yours.”
“Nothing.”
“Nonsense!” Alastor presses a kiss on your eye, even as you scrunch a little. “I can hear the gears turning. Don’t turn me away now.”
“My, sweet Al,” you say, “do you ever regret not having children together?”
“Absolutely not.” Alastor nuzzles your head closer, and hooks a chin over your feathers. “I will say that the thought is a little tempting. Think of our little girl carrying pieces of you and me, but children are more than legacies, and we are far too selfish to willingly give her what she needs.”
“It would have been nice.”
Alastor glances at the crib next to the bed, staring at where Angel Dust settles into the cushion. “We would have to stop our night-time hobbies, and we’d do all that just for our little girl to end up just like you—Absolutely heartless!”
You brush your thumb across his bottom lip. “You said, ‘willingly’ earlier.”
“I did, didn’t I?” Alastor pulls on the blanket, tucking you into its warmth, but the arms that hold you are far warmer than anything in this world. “Perhaps . . . should one have wandered our way, our lives would be different.”
There’s a muffled crash that comes from Alastor’s room. It’s followed by loud and colorful curse words. Alastor glances at you, and pulls you from the door before you could enter. It’s simple to wait outside until Angel Dust exits their room.
There’s an embarrassed smile on his lips as he closes the door and turns towards you. He scratches on his neck a bit “Sorry about the—”
Alastor raises a hand. “Consider it settled.”
Angle Dust glances at you then at him. “Umm . . . thanks,” he says. “I’m guessing you guys took care of me.”
There’s a moment where your smile softens a little, and you reach up to brush a hand across his hair, fixing the strands that stick out. “Of course, dear,” you say. “It was our pleasure.”
There doesn’t seem to be anything more that Angel Dust wishes to say, so Alastor puts them out of their misery and releases him. The past twenty-four hours were a bit . . . unconventional, but Alastor can admit it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Angel Dust.” Your smile sharpens a little.
He turns to face you, already halfway down the hall. “Yeah?”
“A little word of advice,” you say, showing off the sharpness in your smile. “Should you ever think of becoming an infant once more, I suggest picking a different day to do so.”
Alastor holds his laughter until Angel Dust has rounded the corner. It seems he would need to take you out on that date sooner rather than later.