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“Arrrghhhhh”
Alastor looks up from his place on the sofa, where he’d been examining his claws just a moment ago. They’ll be needing a sharpening soon. They’ve grown quite dull without much use.
“Something wrong, dearest?”
Charlie’s hands bury into her golden hair, her fingers tugging at the roots, before she drags her hands back down her face, pulling downward at her eyelids and lips, making her face into something dreadful.
The girl can look quite fearsome when she so chooses, Alastor thinks with a hint of pride. If only she’d lean into that side of herself more often…
Charlie’s response tears him from his thoughts.
“This. Fucking. Hotel.”
Charlie lets out an enormous sigh, throwing her arms up as she flops onto the sofa beside Alastor. Such drama. Alastor knows exactly where she got it from.
“Mmm, but what about the hotel?” He presses. “The hotel is always a cesspool of disaster. Yet it seems something out of the ordinary has gotten under your skin.”
Charlie groans as she leans her head onto the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling as she answers.
“I know I shouldn’t be ungrateful. It’s been a miracle, how we’ve rebuilt this place, how many souls we’re already starting to save…”
“…But?”
Charlie gives Alastor a sheepish grin. “How do you know there’s a but?”
Alastor rolls his eyes, though no irritation spikes his thoughts. Only a sort of fondness, which feels so foreign to his soul.
“My dear, there is always a ‘but’ with you.”
Charlie gives him a pout. “That’s not true!” She protests. “I’m-“
Alastor holds up a hand. “Ah ah, no need to make excuses. I understand, really I do.” Charlie raises a brow, her expression skeptical.
Alastor sighs. “You’re overworked,” he explains, flipping his hand through the air. “You worry so deeply about all these sinners’ problems, that you forget you have your own.”
Charlie’s mouth opens in protest, but at a knowing look from Alastor, she closes it again. Clearly, she cannot dispute it. And after a moment, she gives in.
“I’m just… so tired,” Charlie confesses, her eyes downcast. “I know I should be enjoying this all- it’s everything I ever wanted!” Her voice grows soft. “But it’s also… It’s been a lot.”
Alastor hums in agreement. “Quite true.”
Charlie closes her eyes at his words, taking in a deep breath. “I think I just need the smallest of breaks,” she murmurs, her words spoken up to the ceiling. “Then I’ll be myself again.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Alastor answers, turning back to examine his claws. “Rest can do wonders for the soul, which is why- Charlie?”
The girl doesn’t reply. Alastor is just about to turn to face her, when suddenly he feels her shoulder lean into his.
And then-
Every muscle goes tense as her golden head droops onto his shoulder, her downy hair a perfect pillow, her expression soft and relaxed.
Alastor’s eyes go wide, his mouth parting as he hisses in a breath- and then he freezes.
He does not like physical contact. Doesn’t enjoy the sensation of hands touching his form, doesn’t like the intrusion upon his personal space, the violation that a hand on a back provides, the prickle that a pat on the shoulder brings.
He’s never liked it. Never enjoyed it. Others have mocked him for it, have wheedled at him about it, have thrown their hands up in exasperation- but it’s never changed how he feels. Touch is not something he finds he requires- and the feel of it unprovoked, the feeling of it out of his own control, his autonomy over his body lost- Alastor despises it.
But this- this is different, somehow. As Charlie shifts and snuggles just a fraction of an inch closer, Alastor is surprised to find he doesn’t have the urge to push her off, let alone the urge to rip her limb from limb.
He’s done far worse to people for far less. In his worst of moods, he’ll tear someone’s soul from their flesh at just a bumping of shoulders.
And yet-
And yet he makes no move to startle the girl off of him.
Instead, for reasons he cannot begin to comprehend, he finds himself desperately trying to keep her from moving. Heaven knows she could use some rest after these last few weeks.
And all that aside- there’s a certain warmth that’s growing in Alastor’s chest, the longer that he sits perfectly still, watching Charlie’s chest rise and fall. The warmth spreads from his chest outward, every place that he girl’s body meets his sending prickles through him- not a bad sort of prickle. A pleasant kind. A gentle kind.
A strange sort of peace begins to swirl around him, a sort of tranquility he has not felt in all the years since his death.
He finds, much to his own surprise, that he doesn’t mind Charlie leaning on him as she sleeps. The girl means quite a deal to him- sure, he’d mentioned she felt like daughter to him just to piss Lucifer off- but the more he sits on it, the more correct that statement feels.
He doesn’t know when that happened. When he let the glowing girl worm her way in to his measly heart. Alastor has always been a creature who favored solitude, his friends kept at arms distance, their connection ready to be severed if need be.
But there is no denying the fondness he feels for the girl who sits beside him, her face so innocent in the arms of sleep.
And just as he’d been perfectly fine with physical touch from his mother, he finds now that he does not particularly mind it from his not-daughter. In fact, he begins to wonder if the lack of touch from someone he cares for is what he’s been desperately missing in this bleak afterlife.
Strange, he ponders, how the heart and mind work in tandem with this sort of thing. As though it takes a certain level of closeness to him in order to have a person’s touch not only excused, but welcomed, desired-
A rustle from across the room causes Alastor to look up, his musings forgotten as his eyes meet those of the intruder’s- a form standing in the threshold of the door, frozen in place.
Angel is paused mid step, his mouth hanging open, his eyes stretched wide at the sight before him.
Alastor forces a cheery smile as Angel quickly composes himself.
“Say anything, Angel dearest, and I will personally guarantee your screams are the last anyone hears of you.”
Angel’s eyes widen briefly before he smooths back on his flirtatious smile.
“Ooo, kinky,” he teases with a wink, his well worn mask already back in place.
At this Alastor’s smile grows maniacal and his head tilts to the side, all while spindly antlers begin to grow from his head.
Angel yelps and scurries away.
Good riddance.
Alastor settles back into himself, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart as he pulls himself back in, tugging at the tether of his soul, cramming himself back into the confines of his limbs.
Charlie stirs beside him. “-Hmm? What’s going on?”
She tilts her head up, blinking at Alastor with blurry eyes.
“Nothing to worry about my dear,” Alastor soothes, reaching out to pet her golden head. This he knows- initiating physical contact, being in control of physical contact- this, he is good at. This, he can navigate. “Just a little friendly banter.”
Charlie nods sleepily, nestling back into to him as her mouth stretches wide with a yawn. Alastor’s heart hammers in his chest.
And now she’s properly snuggled against him, her body curled into his side, her cheek using his shoulder as a pillow. Alastor counts to ten, waiting to see if this increased amount of contact will prickle beneath his skin- but nothing happens. He feels nothing other than that odd sort of warmth, his mouth quirking with a fond grin.
How peculiar.
Still, he wonders if he should wake her, if only to tuck her properly into her bed.
But then Charlie is snuggling closer, her knees tucked up to her chest as she melts deeper onto Alastor’s side, a gentle snore filling the silence between them- and suddenly, Alastor’s mind is made up.
Oh, what the hell. There’s no harm in staying put for a while longer, Alastor reasons with himself, his hand still carefully petting Charlie’s golden locks. She’s been working so terribly hard. It’d be a shame to wake her, now that she’s so relaxed.
Besides- a small, selfish part of Alastor doesn’t wish to lose her warmth so soon.
And with that decided, Alastor summons a book to his hand, the warmth in his chest growing as he settles himself in, the pages materializing from shadows.
With one final pat on Charlie’s head, he turns his focus to his book, content to sit with the girl for as long as she needs. Basking in the warmth that her closeness brings to him.
Heaven knows he’s needed it.