Oh, how Alastor somewhat loathed the way his ears perked up with obvious interest. Hunting... he loathed having to hide himself away and read through his boredom for months. The seven year sabbatical was already MISERABLE... having to be even more extreme for safety was starting to grate.
It sounded lovely. Even with the idea of having to tolerate someone shadowing his movements, being a clumsy oaf, a worse hunter. Honestly, if Vox alerted the prey, then they could play longer.
With a low chuckle, Alastor stepped closer, chest-to-chest and his middle pressing against Vox's so that he could practically purr, "Que la chasse commence!"
That's the big question: How is Vox as a hunter...?
But as Alastor drew in close, Vox's back went rigid and he almost audibly gulped. His mouth dried as a spark danced between his diodes absolutely not shaped in a blink into a heart.
"...Then it's a plan! I'll see about scoping out some targets. Got a fresh new bunch of overlords sniffing around these last few weeks, too..."
But he took a breath to steady: "Also, how the fuck have you not weaponized the hell out of that? French is a seriously romantic language!"
"Weaponized it...? ...Ah, you mean used it for seduction," Alastor chuckled, watching the electricity dance over his dance partner.
Step, step, turn...
"Well, it is a tool in the toolbox. Much easier to get someone isolated... I always had to laugh that it was the most haughty, disrespectful and married white men that fell for it the fastest."
Step, step, turn...
"Are you saying you would have fallen for it, Vincent?"
He laughed in reply, and offered a cheeky grin. "Well, I can be pretty disrespectful and haughty... can't really say much about the married part. Buuut..."
A dip.
"I won't lie- French has... let's say an allure. So I think I'd be enticed... a bit, anyway!" And lift, and a soft twirl.
"I considered studying in earnest, but I'm nowhere near anything smooth. Like... let's see..." His eyes unfocused briefly, trying to recall... ah-
"Je... m'aaappelle... Vincent...et je suiiiis... à toi...?"
You won't play me for a fool. You can't say such a lie to me.
In a much thicker accent, the Creole that Alastor had grown up speaking before he learned to immitate that transatlantic accent, he gave a snicker. "W ap voye flè," he chuckled, spinning Vox around - it was different from the smooth French he'd also learned, different from what those fancy schools taught.
Because he was... let's be real, an idiot... the phrases he picked up were flirtatious out of the age-old adoration for the 'language of romance'. The words had slipped out, as clumsy as they were, and Vox was momentarily confused.
Did Alastor look strange for a moment, or was it just his imagination??
Then he spun. "Wh-- what? What'd you say back?? Hold on, I said I didn't know a whole LOT of it...!"
Alastor had received the ping, too - his ears let out that telltale subtle twitch hearing it on the air. "Hah! Good luck, pal," Alastor chuckled, giving his dance partner a coy little bow before snapping to shift out of the bathrobe and into his own ruby-red pajamas.
He looked rather silly, with the button-up riding up his belly bump just a bit - give it a month or so longer and he'd have to swap his pajamas out.
"Hmmmmmm," Alastor hummed in obvious disapproval, unimpressed. He took a look around the room before changing his mind entirely. "Then you'll dine in my space. You won't eat on the sofa or a bed like a slob, this isn't a picnic in the grass."
"Er, right. Yeah." Subjected to the tug, there was something... indescribable flitting around in his stomach. Something cozy.
"...I'll be there." So he followed through on the cozy feeling, and after hooking a finger against Alastor's collar and giving a little tug, he planted an unexpectedly chaste and tingly little kiss to the cheek before he moved at a rush to intercept Ethan. He dissolved, shifted into electricity and used a handy outlet to make his jump.
"ETHAN!" He... could have greeted better, appearing from nowhere and scaring the poor little possessor demon to death. The demon nearly dropped the two massive bags he held.
"S-sir!? I was just making the rounds to-"
"Don't worry about it!" He interrupted, snatching the bags away. "I've got a meeting with the others that's incredibly important, so I don't want them disturbed."
"Oh! Okay."
"...So get your ass home. I'm not paying you overtime."
"O-of course! Clocking out now! Have a nice day, sir!" Ethan didn't need to be told twice. It was late and he wanted to work for free just as much as any sane individual. He turned and all but fled as Vox sighed, peered in the bags, and went to finish the delivery to the other Vees: Light options for Vel, and... selections from three- no, four this time- different places for Valentino. Seriously, why can't he just stick to one place?? Who craves eats from two wildly different countries clashing together? It's like having a pasta dish with a limeade. Bleugh...
Once Vox was done distributing food for everyone, once he zipped into Alastor's space again, he'd be greeted by a small kitchen table neatly set with plates and cutlery, a vinyl record lightly playing scratchy swing music, and Alastor himself re-donning Vox's robe over his pajamas. Cozy!
The smell of the burgers hit Alastor first, and before he could even comment, his stomach growled. So he chuckled, instead. "Sit, sit! After dinner and dishes, I say we turn in early."
He did indeed zip on up, light on his feet! There was something so pleasantly domestic about this, and if he could just figure out the 'cooking' thing without making a burnt and terrible mess, he could make things even more domestic! Can you imagine--
Vox paused, stood straighter, and a spark buzzed between his antennae. Wearing one of his robes again... that's a dirty trick. Coupled with the music and the general ambiance of the room (you're welcome again, by the way), he was left with a jellyfish-in-the-belly feeling.
"Right!" He hopped along then, setting everything into place. He did stop and take one last little peek into the cardboard containers with the burgers, giving them an extra scrutinizing before choosing thhhhhiiiissss one to go on Alastor's plate.
Good job. Certain demons get to fucking live another day. But the ultimate test remained.
...But not without pulling out a chair first, and made a showy sweeping gesture as an invitation to sit. Let's get the deer and the kid off their hooves, yeah?
A gentlemanly gesture, once again... Alastor didn't mind it, even if it felt a bit like showboating. He was with child, and Vox was dignified enough to know to treat someone with child appropriately.
Even if he was openly attracted to it. Hmm. A mystery to unpack another night, perhaps.
The cardboard and Styrofoam of takeaway containers aside, Alastor settled at his seat and conjured some greens to go along with the burgers. He needed it to feed the little one - and Vox simply needed it because Alastor needed his mate well fed, himself. "Help yourself to a drink. Might as well enjoy a spot of alcohol for the both of us."
He... did miss drinking, honestly. Sometimes ached for it. Dinner like this was at least a good distraction.
He settled into his own seat after, and took a moment to press a palm to the base of his neck and give it a crack. "Mm- nah... think I'll go dry tonight. Y'know, this kind of thing goes good with a beer, but I have yet to find a place in Hell that brews a half-decent one, anyway."
Inwardly, it felt a little shitty to drink away when Al couldn't. He can go a bit without the vice. A solidarity thing, right?
Oh, but one vice he couldn't deny was a sloppy smash burger after the time they fuckin' had. Don't mind him digging in. Hohhhh sweet baby jesus....
Alastor just chuckled, watching his mate chomp right into the burger without abandon - not unlike Al himself when he was feeling particularly eager to dig into a kill.
But tonight, his inner beast was calming down. So instead, he took a knife and cut the burger in half - the middle was always where the best bites were, after all - and sampled it.
Greasy, indulgent, but the lettuce, tomato and onion were at least pleasantly fresh and crisp. Fine, fine... it's a good burger. And as he took a second bite, his stomach audibly growled - yes, yes, little one. He was going to finish it.
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
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It sounded lovely. Even with the idea of having to tolerate someone shadowing his movements, being a clumsy oaf, a worse hunter. Honestly, if Vox alerted the prey, then they could play longer.
With a low chuckle, Alastor stepped closer, chest-to-chest and his middle pressing against Vox's so that he could practically purr, "Que la chasse commence!"
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But as Alastor drew in close, Vox's back went rigid and he almost audibly gulped. His mouth dried as a spark danced between his diodes absolutely not shaped in a blink into a heart.
"...Then it's a plan! I'll see about scoping out some targets. Got a fresh new bunch of overlords sniffing around these last few weeks, too..."
But he took a breath to steady: "Also, how the fuck have you not weaponized the hell out of that? French is a seriously romantic language!"
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Step, step, turn...
"Well, it is a tool in the toolbox. Much easier to get someone isolated... I always had to laugh that it was the most haughty, disrespectful and married white men that fell for it the fastest."
Step, step, turn...
"Are you saying you would have fallen for it, Vincent?"
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A dip.
"I won't lie- French has... let's say an allure. So I think I'd be enticed... a bit, anyway!" And lift, and a soft twirl.
"I considered studying in earnest, but I'm nowhere near anything smooth. Like... let's see..." His eyes unfocused briefly, trying to recall... ah-
"Je... m'aaappelle... Vincent...et je suiiiis... à toi...?"
1/2
Alastor looked stunned, for a moment - the way his heart started stuttering in his chest, almost painfully.
Even he understood that as romantic. Did Vox know that? Was that intentional? Or did this utter buffoon make a fool of himself?
Or was he manipulating Alastor? He'd wanted Alastor to belong to him all these years, after all--
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"Hah... hahah..."
You won't play me for a fool. You can't say such a lie to me.
In a much thicker accent, the Creole that Alastor had grown up speaking before he learned to immitate that transatlantic accent, he gave a snicker. "W ap voye flè," he chuckled, spinning Vox around - it was different from the smooth French he'd also learned, different from what those fancy schools taught.
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Did Alastor look strange for a moment, or was it just his imagination??
Then he spun. "Wh-- what? What'd you say back?? Hold on, I said I didn't know a whole LOT of it...!"
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Alastor laughed, enjoying the befuddled look on the man's face.
"Savor the mystery. No matter how much you study, sha', you won't understand a lick of what an honest soul from the bayou speaks!"
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...No, he had to try more. That niggling feeling in his gut wouldn't let up. He had to try.
"Guess I'll keep studying up, then- maybe confuse YOU with a phrase somed--" He paused, lifted his head. A ping had sounded in his system.
"Oh. That's dinner. I'll have Ethan send it up. This song's almost done anyway...!"
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He looked rather silly, with the button-up riding up his belly bump just a bit - give it a month or so longer and he'd have to swap his pajamas out.
"I'll set the table - where do you eat?"
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The amusement fell with the question, and his hand went to the back of his neck, a habit he hadn't exhibited in... decades.
"...Uhhh... table? Like a coffee table? I don't exactly invite people up here, so I don't have a dining... setup... thing."
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"...Who the fuck eats on the bed? That's how you get ants."
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UGH.
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He offered a hand. Sorry the floor wasn't very, uh, hoof compliant.
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"Bring it to my room once you give your other pals their share~"
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"...I'll be there." So he followed through on the cozy feeling, and after hooking a finger against Alastor's collar and giving a little tug, he planted an unexpectedly chaste and tingly little kiss to the cheek before he moved at a rush to intercept Ethan. He dissolved, shifted into electricity and used a handy outlet to make his jump.
1/2
Alastor stood, stunned.
Gentle.
Why did he keep... doing that...
...
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Alastor chuckled and shook his head, melting into shadow to disappear and reemerge in his space. He'll set the table like a gentleman.
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"S-sir!? I was just making the rounds to-"
"Don't worry about it!" He interrupted, snatching the bags away. "I've got a meeting with the others that's incredibly important, so I don't want them disturbed."
"Oh! Okay."
"...So get your ass home. I'm not paying you overtime."
"O-of course! Clocking out now! Have a nice day, sir!" Ethan didn't need to be told twice. It was late and he wanted to work for free just as much as any sane individual. He turned and all but fled as Vox sighed, peered in the bags, and went to finish the delivery to the other Vees: Light options for Vel, and... selections from three- no, four this time- different places for Valentino. Seriously, why can't he just stick to one place?? Who craves eats from two wildly different countries clashing together? It's like having a pasta dish with a limeade. Bleugh...
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The smell of the burgers hit Alastor first, and before he could even comment, his stomach growled. So he chuckled, instead. "Sit, sit! After dinner and dishes, I say we turn in early."
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Vox paused, stood straighter, and a spark buzzed between his antennae. Wearing one of his robes again... that's a dirty trick. Coupled with the music and the general ambiance of the room (you're welcome again, by the way), he was left with a jellyfish-in-the-belly feeling.
"Right!" He hopped along then, setting everything into place. He did stop and take one last little peek into the cardboard containers with the burgers, giving them an extra scrutinizing before choosing thhhhhiiiissss one to go on Alastor's plate.
Good job. Certain demons get to fucking live another day. But the ultimate test remained.
...But not without pulling out a chair first, and made a showy sweeping gesture as an invitation to sit. Let's get the deer and the kid off their hooves, yeah?
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Even if he was openly attracted to it. Hmm. A mystery to unpack another night, perhaps.
The cardboard and Styrofoam of takeaway containers aside, Alastor settled at his seat and conjured some greens to go along with the burgers. He needed it to feed the little one - and Vox simply needed it because Alastor needed his mate well fed, himself. "Help yourself to a drink. Might as well enjoy a spot of alcohol for the both of us."
He... did miss drinking, honestly. Sometimes ached for it. Dinner like this was at least a good distraction.
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Inwardly, it felt a little shitty to drink away when Al couldn't. He can go a bit without the vice. A solidarity thing, right?
Oh, but one vice he couldn't deny was a sloppy smash burger after the time they fuckin' had. Don't mind him digging in. Hohhhh sweet baby jesus....
no subject
But tonight, his inner beast was calming down. So instead, he took a knife and cut the burger in half - the middle was always where the best bites were, after all - and sampled it.
Greasy, indulgent, but the lettuce, tomato and onion were at least pleasantly fresh and crisp. Fine, fine... it's a good burger. And as he took a second bite, his stomach audibly growled - yes, yes, little one. He was going to finish it.
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