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Alastor emerged into the lobby early one morning, fully-dressed with his cane held to the small of his back.
“Alastor!”
Alastor sighed and turned on his heel to face Charlie, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet with her hands clasped in front of her. “Yes, My Dear?”
“I am so glad to see you! My dad’s busy tonight with some… thing? I dunno, he wasn’t very clear.”
“Well, that is wonderful news! Huzzah to you!” Alastor turned to leave, stopped by Charlie darting in front of him again.
“No, that’s not what I–”
“If you’ll excuse me, Charlie–” He tried to step around her again.
Eyes pinched shut, her next words rushed out: “Could you make dinner tonight?”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s just– We were supposed to cook together! And he’s busy, and Vaggie wants to go out to eat, but Husk and Angel– and Niffty? I think?-- still need to eat! So... could you cook?”
“I’m sure I could manage!”
“With no Sinner meat!”
“I am capable of preparing and consuming non-cannibal meals, thank you, Charlie.”
“Are you sure? I know it’s a lot to put on you last-minute, but I know you can do it!”
“I’m well-aware that I’m able to prepare a meal. I’m sure I can figure something out.”
“You are the best!” Charlie cheered, pulling Alastor into a hug too quickly for him to dodge.
“Off!” Alastor hissed, shoving Charlie off of him, voice filled with static.
“I am so excited!” she gushed. “Can you make extras so we have leftovers?”
Alastor huffed again and stepped into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee.
Vox zapped into the kitchen beside him and dropped his screen to the counter. “Coffee.”
“What’s the magic word?” Alastor sang.
“Fucking now, Alastor.”
“Ooh! Someone’s in a mood.”
“I did not charge for most of last night, and someone left bed early, and I woke up alone.”
Alastor hummed and handed Vox his own ‘Oh, Deer!’ mug, filled with steaming coffee. “Cream and sugar?”
“Just sugar.”
“Unhealthy amounts, I’m aware.” Alastor added five tablespoons of sugar, then passed the mug back to Vox.
Vox took a long drink, then whispered, “I love you.”
“Mm. That’s nice, Dear.”
Vox watched Alastor prepare his breakfast, then asked, “None for me?”
“You’re going to be my sous chef when I prepare dinner tonight. Be here at 3 sharp.”
“3 o’clock?”
“M-hm!”
“For dinner? Not lunch?”
“Do you eat lunch at 7 o’clock at night?”
“You need four hours to make a meal?!”
“If I’m pressed for time. I had no time to prepare anything, so it’s… rather last-minute.”
“That’s how you–” Vox huffed and said, “I know nothing about cooking, Al.”
“Mm. Can you chop vegetables?”
“I guess?”
“Hm... Can you read spice labels?”
“Sure.”
“Excellent! I’ll enjoy having your assistance.”
“You’re serious?”
“As the plague!”
“You don’t let anyone in the kitchen while you’re cooking.”
“Well, clearly, that isn’t true, if I’ve invited you to join me!”
“Not even Niffty!”
“No, she tends to get… underfoot.”
“And you think I wouldn’t?”
“For one: you’re much more visible than Niffty. Especially with that… screen of yours. For two: I trust that you would get out of the way when directed.”
“Uh… Yeah! Yeah, both of those, I’ll… I’ll be here at 3!”
“Excellent!” Alastor patted the side of Vox’s screen. “A kiss before I attend to my business for the day?”
“You sure?”
“Well, if you don’t want it–”
“I never said that!”
Alastor raised a brow and gestured vaguely to Vox with an open palm. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Vox lunged for Alastor and pressed their lips together, whispering against Alastor, “I love you.”
“Mm.” Alastor wiped the spit from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb. “That’s… Thank you, Vox. I appreciate your agreeing to help me in the kitchen this evening.”
“You won’t regret it!”
“If I start feeling regret at any point, you will be banished from the kitchen.”
“Deal!” Vox kissed Alastor cheek and zipped into the electricity without another word, ‘Oh, Deer!’ mug still in his hand and vanishing with him.
Alastor rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, coat draped over a dining room chair so it was out of the way. He set the oven to preheat.
The island was covered in ingredients, and, at 3:01, Alastor sighed and retrieved a cutting board to chop fresh herbs into small pieces.
Vox appeared in the doorway with a crooked grin. “Hi!”
“You’re late~” Alastor sang.
“I’m… sorry?”
“Wash your hands, then join me here.”
Vox passed behind Alastor and kissed his shoulder. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“I told you to be here at 3 o’clock sharp.”
“I… lost track of time?”
“Is that not why you have timers?”
Vox shrugged.
“Come here,” Alastor ordered.
Vox stood at his side, avoiding eye contact as Alastor brushed chopped herds off of his hands and onto the cutting board. “I really didn’t mean to, Alastor, I honestly meant to be here, like, five minutes ago, but Val cornered me ‘n wouldn’t let me go–”
“Relax,” Alastor whispered, tapping the back of his wrist to the side of Vox’s screen. “Fetch me the cayenne, chili powder, turmeric, ginger, and Tabasco. All in the cabinet to the left of the microwave.”
Vox nodded quickly and jogged to the cabinet as Alastor resumed his chopping.
“Here! Anything else?”
“No, thank you, Darling. Not for now, at least.”
Vox stared absently at the ingredients on the counter.
“Yes?” Alastor prompted.
“I thought… I thought you wanted my help?”
“Oh, I did! And you’ve been a wonderful help, thus far, haven’t you?” Alastor patted Vox’s screen, where his cheeks would be. “Now, please, remove yourself from the walkway.”
“Oh. D’you… want me to leave?”
“Not in the slightest!”
“... Okay, Al, you’re gonna need t’spell this out for me. What do you want me to… do?”
“I want you to keep me company while I cook. It gets so terribly boring, standing over the hot stove, all by myself…” Alastor moved around Vox to wash his hands again, scrubbing halfway up his forearms. “I simply thought it more pleasant to allow you to accompany me while I make dinner. Although, I understand if you have things you’d rather do–”
“I’ll stay!” Vox promised with a smile. “Just… tell me where to be, ‘n I’ll stay there ‘til you tell me t’move.”
“Sit beside the stove. On the right, please, so I don’t need to work around you whenever I need to access the trash can or the stove.“
With a quick salute, Vox situated himself, cross-legged, on the counter beside the stove. “Here?”
“That is where I told you to sit, yes. Well done, Picture Box!”
“Shut up,” Vox snorted, elbows resting on his knees. “I was just makin’ sure. Last thing I want is to piss off the chef.”
Alastor hummed and summoned his well-used apron out of the void, slipping it over his head and tying it around his waist. “That’s… surprisingly smart, Vox. Well thought-out.”
Vox stared at Alastor’s chest to read the writing across the apron, then snorted, “‘Don’t kiss the chef’?”
“Husker thought he was funny during last years’ gift exchange. Funny how that turned out, is it not?”
“Well, if the chef doesn’t wanna be kissed, who am I t’kiss him?”
Alastor grabbed the front of Vox’s vest to yank him into a kiss. “Only on my terms tonight.”
“Done!”
Returning to the stove, Alastor started to cut up chicken into small strips. “What did you get up to today, hm?”
“You… Huh? Me?”
“Yes, you. Talk. I’m busy cooking; you can’t expect me to entertain you, as well?”
Vox snorted. “Yeah. I wouldn’t. Uh… Vel has her fashion show comin’ up, so she ‘n Val spent three hours in the boardroom arguing over two shades of purple– fuschia?-- whatever– that I swear were identical, and I had to stay the whole time. And focus, too. I actually had to contribute to the argument.”
“Ew. How dare they force you to have input in something that affects your company?” Alastor took a large pot from the hanging rack above the island. “Fill this with as hot of water as the tap can provide.”
Vox slipped from the counter to oblige as he continued, “It’s not that I don’t– I would’ve been fine providing feedback for… what, five minutes? Not hours on end!”
Alastor chopped carrots, cabbage, and radishes into tiny pieces, then sprinkled the entire pile in the spices and sauce that Vox had brought him. “Would you be a dear and grab me the beans?”
“Uh… which ones?”
“Red and black.”
Vox brought over both large plastic containers from the pantry. “These?”
“Lovely!” Alastor pecked Vox’s nose. “Sit.”
Vox obeyed. He watched as Alastor meticulously spread the seasoned vegetables over a baking tray, slid them into the oven to broil, and turned on the stove to boil the pot of water.
Alastor took the large bag of rice from the pantry and dropped it onto Vox’s lap. “Hold this.”
“Fuckin’-- How heavy is this?”
“Well, it was 20 pounds, but it’s been used a bit! Probably somewhere around…” Alastor picked up the bag again, weighed it in one hand, and estimated, “16-and-a-half pounds.”
Vox scoffed and snatched the bag back.
Alastor smiled and kissed the edge of Vox’s screen. “You stay here.”
“Where else am I gonna go?”
Picking out the small indoor grill from the cabinets underneath the island, Alastor grinned. “That’s what I like to hear!”
Alastor, stirring the grilled chicken, broiled vegetables, and various spices and herbs in the pot in front of him, offered a spoonful of stew to Vox, hand cradled under it as he ordered, “Taste!”
Vox snorted and opened his mouth, allowing Alastor to slip the spoon between his lips. Immediately, he coughed and gagged, running to the sink and swallowing cold water straight from the faucet. “Al!”
Alastor frowned and looked at the contents of his pot. “What’s wrong with it? I thought it smelled alright.” He took a spoonful for himself and hummed happily. “Mm!”
“How the fuck–” Vox grabbed a handful of ice cubes from the dispenser on the front of the fridge and bit into them, then winced. “Ow! That blew out my fuckin’ sinuses!”
“... Okay?”
“I don’t even have sinuses, Al!” Vox complained through a mouthful of ice. “How’d you even do that?!”
Alastor scoffed. “It’s nowhere near strong enough to do any sort of damage to any part of your body, here or on Earth.” He added another shot of Tabasco and took another bite, eyes fluttering shut as he smiled. “Oh, that’s good.”
Vox wheezed and chewed another handful of ice. “Fuck that noise. I’m gonna eat bread for dinner, I don’t give a shit… what the fuck?!”
“Well, that won’t do!” Alastor complained. “Why have I spent all this time cooking? And… for what? For you to eat bread for dinner?”
“I can’t exactly eat that–” Vox threw out an arm to gesture at Alastor’s cooking, “-- now, can I?”
“... But I cooked for you.”
“I have, like, no spice tolerance, Al.”
Alastor frowned down at the pot in front of him. He sighed, then dropped to his knees, hands clasped in front of his mouth as he shut his eyes and bowed his head.
“What are you–”
“Sh!” Alastor took a deep breath, then whispered, “Dearest mè… my manman, I am so, so sorry for what I am about to do. Look away now, if you must.” He stood, brushed off his knees and apron, and hissed, “You are so lucky I like you, Voxxel.”
“What are you doing–?”
“I–” Alastor cracked his neck, first to the left, then the right, then whispered, “-- am about to commit the most disgusting of sins. Against my mother– my manman– no less!”
“Alastor, what the fuck.”
“I’m about to make my food more palatable for a–” Alastor shuddered, then whispered in disgust, “-- white man.”
Vox cackled, screen thrown back to the cabinets behind him. “You do not need to do that, if it’s that big of a deal.”
“No, no, she always taught me to prioritize my partner, no matter what. The last thing I want is for you to go to bed hungry. So…” Alastor snatched the bag of rice from Vox’s lap, tore it open, and, glaring at the contents, poured a hearty amount in. “Eugh.” He placed the lid on top of the pot and pointed an accusatory finger at Vox. “You did this.”
“Did I, now?”
“You did this.”
Vox sighed and whispered, “You didn’t have to. Seriously, I would’ve eaten something else, it’s totally fine–”
“No, Vox, that’s not… That’s not what I wanted to do.” Alastor brushed the spices off of his hands, then approached Vox to kiss him gently.
Vox sputtered and shoved Alastor away, who sighed and wiped Vox’s spit from his face.
“What now?”
“You’re spicy!”
Alastor wiped his face with a handkerchief, then sighed again. “Apologies. No kisses for the rest of the night, then?”
“W–Well, hang on, I didn’t say that–”
Alastor stirred the pot. “I’ll eat, brush my teeth and tongue, then kiss you before bed. How does that sound?”
“Whatever you want, Al.”
Alastor leaned against the island across from Vox. “My mother would be so disappointed.”
“I dunno. If she really wanted you to prioritize whoever you were with, I think she’d be pretty happy with what you did.”
“I… For a white man, Voxxel!”
Vox snorted again, shaking his head. “Is that really the bit you’re hung up on?”
“... Seems it.”
With a hand extended to Alastor, Vox whispered, “C’mere.”
“You don’t want to kiss me. You said so yourself.”
“Come here.”
Alastor pushed off of the counter and stood between Vox’s knees. “Yes?”
Vox kissed Alastor’s forehead. “I appreciate you. You’re too good t’me.”
Alastor brought his hands up to the top of Vox’s screen to play with his antennae, making Vox shiver. “I will be building up your spice tolerance, I hope you know.”
“I… Okay. Just… let me know, before you do?”
“I can do that.”
“ ‘N not after I had a bad day.”
“... How will I know?”
“Just ask.”
“I… suppose I can do that.”
Vox smiled and kissed the corner of Alastor’s mouth. “Thanks.”
Alastor presented the stew to the small group gathered around the dining room table with a flourish. "Bon Appetit!"
Husk eyes the stew warily, grabbing Angel's shoulder as the taller demon lunged for the spoon. "What's in it?"
"Nothing you'd be 'morally opposed' to eating, if that's what you're concerned about."
Husk inspected the contents of the pot, then looked at Vox. "Did you watch him make this?"
"I did. No meat except for chicken."
Husk sighed, then released Angel's shoulder and gestured at the pot. "Serve Al, first. Chef gets first taste."
Angel served the stew into five bowls, setting one in front of every person at the table. He gestured to Alastor with an open palm. "Chef first!"
Alastor rolled his eyes and took a large bite of the stew, eyes shutting as he sighed.
"Alright, so it's not poisoned?"
"Why would I--" Alastor sighed again, pinched the bridge of his nose, and whispered, "Not poisoned. Not Sinner meat. Not spicy. Who have I become?"
"Wait, not--" Husk squinted at Alastor, then took a bite. "The fuck is this?"
"Stew!"
"This is weird."
Alastor's eye twitched.
"Why is it... bland?"
Alastor jerked a thumb towards Vox and spat, "He's white."
Husk nodded in understanding, then took another bite. "Tabasco?"
Alastor summoned the bottle from the kitchen, along with the various spices from the counter. He added everything to his own bowl in copious amounts, stirred them in, and took a bite.
Adding his own spices to the bowl, Husk offered them to Angel, who shook his head.
Niffty scrambled onto the table to lunge for the chili powder, but Husk snatched it from her as Alastor plucked her from the table.
"Manners, Niffty!" Alastor chirped. He tossed her back towards her seat. "Try again!"
"Chili!"
Husk tapped the spice into her bowl, then added a bit extra. "Good?"
"Good!"
Husk raised a brow at her. "What else do you say?"
"Tabasco!"
"No, Niffty. When someone does something nice for you, what do you say?"
"... Thank you?"
"Good." Husk handed her the Tabasco.
Vox hummed happily at his mostly-rice meal, the slightest amount of stew poured over a heaping pile of plain white rice. "This is good!"
Alastor smiled softly. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."
Husk looked between the pair of them, brows raised, then shook his head and returned to his own food.
"Do you have a comment you'd like to share with the room, Husker?"
"No, Boss."
"Because I have countless complaints about your nightly activities with your own partner that I'd like to bring up!"
"No, Boss. Sorry, Boss."
Alastor nodded once and served himself more stew, as well as the pile of spices that he had added to his previous bowl.
Vox pressed the outside edge of his shoe to Alastor's, still stirring his stew and rice into a thick slurry and focusing on scraping the edges of the bowl clean.
As Vox scrubbed dishes at the sink, Alastor sat on the counter beside him.
"Was this your plan all along?" Vox whined again, putting another dish aside on the drainboard. "You didn't wanna do dishes, so you bribed me into doing it?"
"I don't believe there was any bribery involved, actually. You simply like me! You enjoy my company, for reasons unknown to me."
Vox shrugged with a crooked half-smile. "I dunno why, either, but it works out."
"... Were you planning on staying the night?"
"If you ask nice enough."
"Never mind, then."
Vox pouted and batted his digital lashes at Alastor. "Please ask!"
"If I need to ask, then why are you begging?"
"I will literally get on my knees and suck whatever you want me to suck for you to let me stay overnight."
"You will suck nothing."
"No, really! I'll suck whatever you want me to--"
"And I want you to suck nothing."
"... Oh."
"'Oh'?"
"I thought you were commenting on what you thought I was dedicated enough to suck."
"... I was not."
"Okay, good, 'cause I've sucked way weirder things than anything I think you could come up with."
"Stop talking about sucking," Alastor pled, rubbing his temples. "Just... stay the night, Vox. I'll even allow you to wear some of my nightclothes so you don't leave... rumpled."
Vox grinned, dropping his dish brush and the pot he was scrubbing into the bottom of the sink to stand on his toes and kiss Alastor.
Alastor pulled back, brows raised.
"What?"
"Was that a wise decision?"
"Huh?" Vox's eyes widened as the spice lingering on Alastor's lips hit him, and he coughed roughly and dunked his tongue under the still-running water in the tap. "Ack!"
"Alright, that was on you."