Winter Wishes and Snowfall Kisses

by ParanoidinPink

Summary:

In the small town of Hartland, Alastor lives a humble life. His secondhand bookstore, Vintage Verses, along with its attached café is profitable enough to keep him afloat. It's not an easy life, but he's content.

His life takes a turn when a visit to the city results in him bumping into his college situationship partner, Vincent Whittman. College had been a distant part of Alastor's life and he would rather it remain in the past, but with Vincent's insistence, Alastor's faced with the harsh reality of his life choices. To make matters worse, he finds himself the sudden impromptu boyfriend of some blonde stranger. That stranger, as it turns out, happens to be the wealthy investor, Lucifer Morningstar, who recently started renovating Hartland's homestead.

Alastor now finds himself stuck in the middle between a former paramour and a new fake one. And as his life crumbles around him, he's left to question what future awaits him.

 

aka.
A Hallmark-inspired Winter holiday love story of a man trying to get by while running from his past and embracing his future.

Notes:

• For chicorymeadow.

Happy Holidays, everyone! This is a special holiday story written for Chicory!

Chicory, I was so excited to try and incorporate all your prompts that it ended up snowballing into a massive multi-chaptered monster. XD I hope you enjoy this Hallmark movie of a fic. <3

Chapter 1: Prologue

            It didn’t snow in Hartland.  It rained.  It froze.  It rained again.  That was just the way things were, and the people had learned to accept it.  Even the oldest resident couldn’t recall a day when it may have snowed.

            Rumors had grown over the decades.  Some claimed their humble town was cursed, leading back to some gypsy or witch or devil ritual — any foreign practice, really, so long as it wasn’t Christian.  The realists narrowed it down to a vague, unproven science.  They were isolated from most of civilization, nestled between rolling hills littered with towering trees, colorful meadows, and twining rivers.  “Naturally,” the hills prevented winter winds from cooling the rain enough to freeze into snow, despite the fact that it still grew cold enough to freeze their rivers solid.  The popular opinion was that their town was blessed by Mother Nature.  The farms were always bountiful, flowers blossomed with little effort, and no house or yard was without persistent foliage slithering up posts, along fences, and branching across exterior walls.

            Whichever the reason, it didn’t matter to Alastor.  No, the matter of reality didn’t quite bother him, not when there were so many more pressing matters to focus his time and effort on.  Such as the batch of gingerbread cookies he was pulling from the oven.

            With an oven mitt two stitches away from deterioration, Alastor carefully lifted the baking sheet from the middle rack.  He eyed the edges of the cookies with a critical gaze, testing them with a delicate touch of an exposed finger.  

            With a contented hum, Alastor settled the baking sheet on the cooling rack before grabbing the next one off the storage rack and placing it in the oven.  With a chipper turn on his heel, Alastor made his way across the kitchen with two broad steps to the opposite counter where a cooled batch of gingerbread cookies awaited.

            The small kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla.  There was an undercurrent of toasted nuts from the batches of pecan and almond-infused cookies sitting in sealed boxes off to the side.

            Alastor hummed out an original tune as he spun the icing bag in his hand.  He leaned forward and carefully piped icing onto the man-shaped cookies.  He decorated cookies with skirts, with pants, with short legs and long, along with one cookie specially shaped like someone in a wheelchair.

            With the most recent batch iced and ready, Alastor checked his watch for the time — then double-checked the clock on the wall.  For good reason, too.  It seemed his watch was running slow again.  Alastor made a mental note to change the battery before taking the batch out to the small dining section beyond the swinging door.

            The little café corner was a humble eatery with only a few tables and a small counter.  The attached display case was old — which was an understatement.  The wood base was chipped and stained from a flood years prior.  The decorative linoleum siding had yellowed with age, having endured too many decades of exposure to light and who-knows-what-else.  The rounded glass casing in the front was cracked in the corner, a blemish that new customers loved to point out whenever they noticed.  Despite all its faults, however, it still worked and that was good enough for Alastor.

            Sliding the back panel aside, he placed the freshly-made cookies on display, saving a handful for personal use.

            “Alastor!  Are you almost done?”

            Alastor straightened and leaned over the counter to peer over the other side.  Standing there, gazing up at him with one large, expressive eye, was Niffty.  She stood on the tips of her toes, perhaps to make herself more noticeable, or perhaps to get a look at what remained on the tray in Alastor’s hand.

            Pointedly, Alastor lifted the tray even higher.  “Nearly done, my dear,” he said with a smile.  “Just a couple left to make.  How is the storefront coming along?”

            “Almost done!  Come see.”  Niffty was scurrying along without waiting to see if he’d follow.  Not that she needed to.  Alastor was already stepping around the display case.

            As he moved away from the kitchen, the smell of baked cookies and brewed coffee blended with the scent of aged pages with a hint of dust.  Lining along tall bookcases were string lights that blinked and twinkled, not always in rhythm.  He knew without looking that there were several festive elves and gnomes watching him as he passed their shelves.  One table display had a Santa Claus figurine holding a long parchment of paper with the words “Naughty and Nice” written at the top, surrounded by piles of holiday-related fiction books for all ages.  Another table had a figurine of the Snow Miser, too broken now to lift his hat like he used to but still managed to play his song if someone found the button hidden amidst the collection of holiday-themed novelties.

            In the front of the store, a boombox was sitting on the cassette display, playing Christmas songs from a cassette that was almost as old as the store itself.  On one side of the front counter was a miniature Christmas tree, decorated to the brim with ornaments that were too large for its size.  On the other side sat an electric menorah with multicolored bulbs where traditionally oil would be.  

            Alastor gave the front of the store a cursory glance.  He easily noticed Husk standing on a stool, reaching high up to tie plastic mistletoe — which lost its berries years ago — over the romance section.  Mimsy could be seen down the aisle, swaying her hips to the music as she placed an Elf on the Shelf in a promiscuous pose.  His mother, however, who was supposed to be running the front desk, was absent.

            Alastor slowly spun in place to try and spy her within the maze of bookcases.  Before he could get so much as a glimpse, Niffty said, “What do you think?”  He gave up on his momentary search to look down at the young girl as she stretched her short arms out wide as if to present the new holiday decor to him.

            The decorations were as used as the secondhand books that lined their shelves.  They had been recycled year after year, and most of them occupied the same spaces they had the years before.  Regardless, Alastor smiled down at Niffty and made a point to look around the store again.  “It looks radiant, my dear.”

            Niffty beamed at the praise.  “I did the windows,” she said, pointing behind her to the giant windows that made up the majority of their storefront.  For a brief moment, he took in the fake frost sprayed along the edge of the glass and the framing string lights — idly wondering if Niffty had clambered up Husk to reach so high — before his gaze went beyond the glass.

            It was evening now, looking later than it was since Winter was so adamant about snuffing out as much of the sun as possible.  Despite the overcast clouds blocking any light from the moon above, the town was far from dull.  Along with the traditional street lights, the roads were illuminated by the excess of additional shimmering lights and decorative banners that Hartland always spared the funds to keep maintained for the holiday season.

            Under the artificial lights, Alastor could see groups of people passing by on the sidewalk.  There were couples leaning close to one another to keep warm and families hurrying along to the warmth of their cars.  Many could be seen carrying shopping bags, making it obvious that they were in the midst of their holiday shopping.

            And yet, barely anyone gave their little store a second glance.  And the ones that did wouldn’t be popping in for the books.

            Vintage Verses was a secondhand bookstore, offering culture to a town that otherwise had none.  It was located on the main street in the heart of town, where everyone had to pass it by every day.  But despite its location and the building’s roots back to the town’s founding, people had lost interest over the years.  At least, the people lost interest in the bookstore aspect of it.

            In the back of Vintage Verses was Alastor’s café.  It was a quaint little dining experience that offered baked goods, fresh coffee, and a rotating menu that adjusted itself to Alastor’s preference.  While people didn’t linger in the bookstore, several flocked to his café, almost buying out his baked stock on a daily basis.

            It was great, having such a profitable business, but it was just an extension of the bookstore.  Without book sales, the café had no purpose.

            “What do you think?” Niffty asked again, pulling Alastor from his musings.

            He must have been lost in his thoughts for a good minute if she felt she needed to prompt a response from him.  “Sorry,” Alastor said, gesturing to the display.  “I got lost in the beauty of it.  What a fine display of ingenuity!  I’m especially fond of the little snowman you made with the frost.”  It was a shame the snowman looked more like a roach.

            “It was my first time making one.”

            Yes, that was apparent.  “Your hard work should be rewarded,” Alastor said.  He plucked from his tray a short-legged cookie with a skirt, with the icing done just so to imitate the part in her hair that covered one eye.

            She jumped in place eagerly and snatched the cookie once it was within reach.  It sounded as if she was trying to thank him, or shout out in exuberance, it was hard to tell.  The cookie was in her mouth at the same time she tried speaking.  It was gone in seconds.

            “That’s so good,” she cried after a long moan.  “Can I have another one?”

            “Lucky for you, I’ve made two.”  Since her cookie was so small, it was only fair for her to have a second one.

            “It looks just like me,” she observed.

            “Had you taken the time to look, you would have noticed that last cookie looked like you as well.”

            Mimzy was suddenly at his side next.  “Don’t be stingy, Alastor.  Give a girl a cookie.”

            “I could never deny you, darling,” said Alastor as he plucked the robust cookie from his tray and handed it over.

            “Oh, I love the spinster dress,” Mimsy praised.  “Lovely touch!”  Then she licked her tongue across the top of the cookie, smearing icing along the way.

            Behind him, Alastor heard a grumble.  “Decorations are done.”

            Grateful for a distraction for the horrendous display that was Mimzy’s eating habits, Alastor spun around.  “Ah, Husker!  Kind of you to stay after and help out.”

            Husk was a tall fellow, with weathered skin and salt and pepper hair.  He was younger than he looked, but years of hard labor, heavy drinking, and a constant “fuck the world” expression would age anyone.  He glowered dully at Alastor as one hand reached for his interior vest pocket, likely to grab the not-so-secretive flask hiding inside.  “Like I had much of a choice.  You scheduled me for this.”

            “And you get a reward for it,” Alastor commented, presenting his tray of cookies.

            That was enough for Husk to momentarily abandon his poor habit, his hand frozen partway in the neckline of his vest.  “The first gingerbread men of the season?”

            “Made special just for you,” Alastor said with a proud grin.  He then plucked the cookie he made for Husk and handed it over.

            “They look just like us,” Niffty said, holding up her second cookie.  It was already missing an arm.

            Husk frowned down at his cookie and showed it to Alastor.  “Why does mine look like a cat?”

            Alastor assumed he was referring to the cat-like whiskers Alastor had used to decorate its face.  “I find it’s a remarkable resemblance!  Have you seen the poor state of those untamed bushes on your face?” Alastor asked with a wicked smirk.  Outdated as the fashion was, Husk’s sideburns might be socially acceptable if they were actually maintained, but Husk left his bristled and coarse.  “We have a mirror in the bathroom, you know, if you’d like to take a look at yourself.  But so you’re not surprised by what you see, I feel I need to let you know that you have the appearance of a feral street cat.”

            Husk kept his withering glare fixed on Alastor as he pointedly bit the head off his cookie.  He walked away, grumbling, “Asshole.”

            Alastor chuckled as he watched Husk hungrily eat his cookie on his route back towards the kitchen to man the counter.

            “Is that Alastor’s voice I hear?” came a familiar, chipper voice from behind him.  Alastor spun just in time to see Rosie appear from around a bookcase.  There were a couple of books in her arms and a broad grin on her cheery face.  “I’d recognize that laugh anywhere!”

            “Ah, Rosie,” Alastor said with a grin of his own.  “And to what do we owe the pleasure of the mayor herself visiting our humble shop?”

            Rosie lifted up the books in her arms.  “Doing some Christmas shopping!  And catching up with friends, of course.”  At that, she looked to her side as Alastor’s own mother rounded the corner next.

            “Rosie was just telling me about the quirky fellow who’s going to be building up that old homestead,” Amélie informed.  She rolled her way forward, moving expertly in the crowded space, bypassing shelves and close-knit tables with barely an inch to spare for her wheelchair.

            “He’s an awkward man, but good-natured,” Rosie said, following patiently behind Amélie.  “He has a lot of plans to help better Hartland.”

            Alastor lips formed a hard line.  “I hardly see how fixing the homestead will help,” he commented dryly.  “It’s fine the way it is.  It’s a timestamp of when the town was new.”

            “It’s an old building long abandoned in the woods,” Rosie argued with an amused shake of her head.  “No one even visits it anymore.  It would do some good to get the place touched up.”  Alastor opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off.  “Change is good, darling!  Yes, classic touches are nice — I love that your bookstore has so much of the original design — but ‘new’ brings in money.

            “Making that outdated homestead into a modern home means it can be rented out.  There’s even talk of making it into a tourist spot.”

            Alastor lifted a brow.  “And why exactly would anyone want to visit here?”

            “There’s plenty Hartland has to offer,” Rosie argued, though she didn’t elaborate.  “But we’ve come up with a great development plan to turn those woods into a nature park.”

            “I think it’s a great idea,” said Amélie.  She made her way to the front counter where Rosie helped her set up a display from the books that Amélie had piled in her lap.  “People are going out into the woods all the time.  If it can be made into an official park, it can provide safe trails and draw in people from the city.”

            “And with the homestead updated,” butted in Rosie, “it can be rented to anyone wanting to spend a weekend out in nature!  Now, enough of that.  Do I spy the annual gingerbread delights?”  She finished propping up the last book — something to do with penguin grooms — and stepped up beside Alastor to eye the tray in his hands.  “I look forward to these every year!”

            “By all means,” Alastor said, picking up the gingerbread man designed like himself and handing it over.  “You may have one from the first batch, on the house.”

            “Don’t mind if I do.”  She eagerly accepted the cookie.  “Such a handsome little guy,” she commented before savagely eating half of it in a single bite.  She loudly moaned around the cookie, bringing a delicate hand up to her rosy lips.

            “Right?” said Niffty.  “It’s so good!”  Following Rosie’s lead, she shoved the rest of her own cookie into her mouth.

            Alastor made his way over to Amélie and handed her the last cookie on the sheet.  “I saved the best for last,” he said.

            Amélie gratefully accepted the cookie designed like a woman in a wheelchair.  “Thank you, sweetie.  I was wondering how long you’d make me wait before having one.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to smell you baking them and not having a single bite?”  She gave an exaggerated pout.  “You used to let me lick the spoon.”

            “Back when I made them at home, yes,” he said, reciprocating her exaggerated gesture with a dramatic roll of his eyes.  “Perhaps if you didn’t insist on dolling this place up every winter, you could have joined me in the kitchen and gotten a taste.”

            She put her hand on her chest, aghast.  “Alastor!  How could you say that?  The decorations are important.  Look how pretty it is in here!”

            He chuckled deep in his throat.  “It does look pretty.”

            “Just pretty?”

            “It looks beautiful, Ma.”

            “That’s what I thought,” she said, puffing out her chest.  She lifted up her cookie.  “Now to celebrate.”  Her reaction was far more subtle than the others, which was no surprise.  She had endured all his trial phases until he got the recipe right, offering her own suggestions along the way.  The recipe was just as much hers as it was his.  She saved her big reactions for new recipes that wowed her.  Anything that didn’t elicit a “Sweet Mother!” from her didn’t make it on the menu.

            Rosie made her way back towards the counter where her pile of books waited.  Alastor left his mother to savor the cookie and went to ring her up.

            “When will you be starting your book drive?” she asked.

            It was no surprise that Rosie had been voted mayor, and why she continued to hold office for so many terms.  She was a charismatic woman who was happy to support every business within her town limits.  She spoke with the people as individuals and was always ready to lend an ear.

            She frequented Vintage Verses, buying books for any and every occasion.  She was also one of their major contributors for the book drive.

            Alastor gave her a broad grin as he rang up her books.  “Next week!  Posters will be going up soon.”

            “Be sure to drop a pile of them off at my office,” she encouraged.  “I’ll start handing them out.”

            “You’re such a doll.”

            “Don’t I know it?”

            Once he handed over her receipt, Alastor checked his watch, tutting when he noticed that the minute hand was stuck on the six.  It tick-tick-ticked but couldn’t quite make it to the seven.  “You’ll have to excuse me, Rosie, dear.  I need to check on the cookies before they burn.”

            “Oh, you hurry along!  We can’t let those go to waste!”  She waved him off with a hand.  “And I’ll be sure the town’s socials let everyone know your gingerbread delights are officially back on the menu.”

            As Alastor hurried his way around the counter towards the kitchen, his mother reached out and gingerly grabbed his forearm.  He paused, letting her drift her hand down until it was grasping his and giving a loving squeeze.  He squeezed her hand in return, only moving again when she let go.

            Alastor passed Niffty along the way.  She was wiping clean a plastic snowman whose white sheen had yellowed long ago.  She looked up from her vigorous scrubbing as he approached, smiling cheerily.

            “Once you’re done up here,” Alastor started without breaking his stride, “I could use a hand cleaning up the kitchen.”

            Her one exposed eye shone with excitement.  “Okay, Alastor!”

           

            Thankfully, Alastor’s internal clock was more reliable than his wristwatch.  There were still minutes to spare for the baking batch; just enough for him to start moving the dishes to soak in the sink and pull out the stepstool for Niffty.

            It was a little after closing when Alastor finished baking the last sheet.  By that time, the entire stock in the display case had been bought out.  Surprising to no one at all, Mimzy had made her leave the moment she received a text from whoever her newest suitor was.  Husk had also tried to sneak out once the espresso machine was cleaned.  That was technically the end of his shift, so Alastor wouldn’t have thought anything of it — really, he was just happy whenever the guy managed to work a whole shift.  But Alastor later found out that his crafty mother managed to guilt-trip him into salting the sidewalk and parking lot.  Good for him, though, because Alastor paid him overtime with a special order of almond-inserted gingerbread cookies to take home with him.  Since his mother and Niffty were stuck waiting until Alastor had finished with his baking, he opted to appease them by letting them each lick a whisk.

            As Alastor locked the store, he could hear his mother and Niffty behind him.

            “It’s cold,” said Niffty.

            “I know, sweetie.  Come along.  Let’s get you home.”

            Both of the ladies carried with them their own box of cookies, with Amélie’s carefully nestled in her lap as Alastor pushed her from behind.  “Watch out for black ice,” Amélie warned as she offered a hand out to Niffty.

            “I will—”  Niffty was cut off when her tiny foot slipped on a slab of ice hidden in the shadow of the building.  She barely managed to catch herself, more focused on the box she was juggling between her hands.  “Aha,” she declared, lifting the undropped box in victory.

            Alastor chuckled in his throat, but it was cut off when his own heel slipped on some ice.  Lucky for him, it was a small slide and no one noticed.  Or so that’s what he had thought until his mother shot him a sly smile over her shoulder.  He chose to ignore her.

            They were partway to their beat-up van when his mother excitedly slapped her hand against the armrest of her chair.  “Alastor, stop!”

            He immediately complied, looking at her quizzically.  “What is it?”

            She was looking up — high up.  Alastor followed her gaze to notice that the clouds had begun to break away, revealing a sliver of sky.  One star shone bright amidst the black canvas above, glimmering brilliantly between the dark clouds.

            “It’s the evening star,” she declared.  She then bowed her head and clasped her hands together in front of her chest.

            “What are you doing?” asked Niffty.

            “It’s the evening star, sweetie,” she repeated.  “When you see the evening star and nothing else, you’re supposed to make a wish.”

            Niffty cooed.  “Oh, okay!”  Mimicking Amélie, she also clasped her hands.  Before she bowed her head, though, she noticed Alastor cross his arms.  “You’re not going to make a wish?”

            He scoffed.  “Of course not.  There’s no point in such frivolous things.  No star will change your life; only you can.”

            “Honestly, Alastor, you should open your heart more,” Amélie lightly chastised, unmoving in her prayer position.

            Alastor rolled his eyes but remained silent so the girls could finish their ridiculous ritual.  Once they were done, Alastor resumed pushing his mother towards the car.  “And what magical remedy did you wish for?”

            Amélie scoffed.  “As if I’d tell you,” she teased.  “The wish won’t come true if I do anyway.”

            As if Alastor actually cared.  Drawing his lips into a thin line, he said, “Whatever you say, mother dearest.”

            Amélie leaned close to Niffty and the girls whispered something conspiratorily.  Alastor strained his ears to try and listen, but the only thing he caught was their devilish, whispered laughter.

            “It’s awfully bold of you ladies, scheming behind my back like that.”

            “Technically, it’s in front of you, son of mine.”

            Alastor growled in annoyance.  “Keep it up and I’ll leave you both here to find rides for yourselves.”

            “And leave poor Niffty here to fend for herself?” Amélie asked, bringing Niffty in close.  “What would the papers say?  ‘Local man leaves poor orphan child on the side of the road’?”  And Niffty, damn the child, immediately played the part of pathetic, pitiable creature, looking up at him with a tearful eye and a quivering bottom lip.

            “Don’t think that will work on me.  And she’s not even an orphan — now hurry up and get in the van,” he barked, pulling Amélie up on the passenger side.  Amélie chuckled but didn’t say anything as she lifted herself out of the chair.  Alastor kept a close eye on her, tightening his grip on the wheelchair to keep it steady as she used it to support herself up and into the car.

            Once she was settled with both feet in the car, Alastor bent down to collapse the wheelchair.  Which was a mistake since he suddenly felt his scarf tighten around his throat.  He looked up through the hinge of his curly bangs to see his mother tugging it tight.

            “You should button your coat,” she commented, using that tight tone only mothers could acquire whenever they needed to lecture their children.  “You’ll catch a cold otherwise.”  Her fingers drifted down the wool scarf — scrutinizing every stitch along the black and red stripes.  She had knitted it for him years ago, even managing to stitch his name into it with emerald thread.  She looked it over every year “to fix any snags,” or so she often said.  He believed she was looking for an excuse to make him a new one.  She’s made near everyone in town their own scarves and hadn’t had much reason lately to pick up her favorite hobby.

            “I’m fine, Ma,” he said, fighting back a sigh.  She had good intentions, but sometimes she could be smothering.  It was just part of her nature, but a child grew out of such necessities and a man in his early thirties didn’t need her fussing over him.

            He lightly slapped her hands away, which caused her to give him a weak glare in return.  “Button up,” she repeated.

            Alastor purposefully did the opposite as he reached into the back of the van and grabbed the extra blanket.  “Cover up,” he rebutted as he draped the blanket over her lap.  She shot him a withering glare and he smiled broadly in return.  There was a beat of silence between them as they stared down one another.

            Amélie was the first one to give in, sighing lightly as she tucked the blanket around her legs.  Alastor then complied and buttoned closed his pea coat.

            With that battle won, Alastor grabbed the wheelchair and stored it in the trunk.  From inside the van, he could hear Amélie and Niffty laughing — at his expense, no doubt.  He shook his head as he slammed the trunk closed.

            A light reflecting off the rear window caught his notice.  Narrowing his eyes, he realized it was the evening star reflecting off the surface, still shining through the break in the clouds.  He turned, looking up to the sky.  It was as if it was ridiculing him, shining so brightly up there as if it didn’t have a care in the world.

            Of course it didn’t.  Stars didn’t need to deal with the hardships of life.  The crushing weight of debt, the dwindling hours when trying to get everything done, the wear and tear of everyday life and the expenses it took to keep it maintained if just a little bit longer.

            Alastor glared up at the star, its very existence a mockery on his life.  It was absurd, wishing on a star.  Wishes did nothing.  Only hard work ever accomplished anything, and even that wasn’t a guarantee.

            He turned away from it with a growl under his breath.  “Fuck you.”

Chapter 2: Chapter One

One Year Later

 

            Alastor loved his home town.  Well, at least he loved it as much as anyone would expect from someone who’s lived in the same town all their lives.  There were some fanatics who were obsessed with Hartland.  They wore the school colors, decorated everything they owned with deer, knew the town’s slogan by heart.

            In their defense, Alastor was sure everyone knew the town’s slogan by heart.  It was written on every poster, every city e-mail announcement, even clothing on occasion.  Especially during Hartland’s harvest festival.

            But Alastor had a special place in his heart for the city as well.  He might have only lived in the city a few months several years back, but it had been a wonderful experience.  Yes, the dorms had been tight and cramped and the city was loud and bustling all hours of the night, but there was so much potential in the city.  Everything he ever needed was at his fingertips.  Theatre, live musical performances — that weren’t of the amateur garage-band variety — and so much food.

            Alastor was thoroughly elated as he exited the butcher’s shop, prime cuts of various meats tucked away in his messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.  Yes, Hartland was limitless in its stock of deer, cow, chicken, and pig proteins, but the city offered so much more than the typical farm animal.  There was bison, turkey, elk, squab, alligator, ostrich even!  And so much fish!  Salmon, shrimp, halibut, calamari, muscles, and cod.  Today, he was able to get his hands on some monkfish for the first time.

            His bag was heavy with all the weight of the different cuts of meat he purchased, but he didn’t mind.  He merely lifted his shoulder higher to better support it and accepted the inevitable ache he’d feel tomorrow.  And, thankfully, the weather was cold enough that he didn’t have to worry about the meat going foul anytime soon.  All he had to worry about was driving back home in time to watch the store after Mimzy’s shift.

            He’d learned the hard way that she wasn’t the type to sit and wait.

            Alastor checked his watch, narrowing his eyes at the clockface as he watched the second hand slowly drag from the two to the three.  It seemed he’d have to buy a new battery.

            Reluctantly, he pulled his flip phone from his pocket and checked the time on the screen, adjusting his watch accordingly.

            As he continued his way down the street, he mentally ticked off his shopping list.  He bought fresh cuts of meat to add to the menu, wood filler to help fix the rotted wood on the window sills, a new sharpener for his knives — Husk had dropped his last one and it broke in half — fresh coffee beans to try at the café, some epoxy to touch up the porcelain in the tub, and he even got all of his Christmas shopping done already.

            Niffty was a creative kid, but her homelife failed to provide proper outlets.  So Alastor decided to get her some needlepoint kits to give her a chance to express herself.  And perhaps divert her attention away from the cleaning obsession she had picked up.

            Husk always got restless and antsy whenever he jumped on the bandwagon again and Alastor knew he had a fancy towards cards.  It only made sense to get him some trick cards to play with.  But when Alastor saw the magic kit, he couldn’t resist.  Magic rings, pro caps, trick dice, even a classic top hat with a secret compartment was included.  It was perfect.  Alastor would even be able to divvy it all up into seven individual gifts that Husk could open each day for Hanukkah.

            With his list done, Alastor started making his way back to the van.  That was, until he stumbled across an antique shop.  He was instantly drawn in by the classic golden paint drawn in gothic print across the storefront window.  Then his eyes spotted the display window, where a floor-standing gramophone with an authentic sound horn was on display.

            In an instant, he was inside the shop, the sound of string bells jingling overhead, announcing his arrival as he swung open the door.  He took a moment to bask in the atmospheric change, a bright smile stretching across his face.  Taking a deep breath, he reveled in the homely aroma of old wood, piling dust, subtle incense, and the lint burning in the heat of the floor vents.

            It was all a comforting reprieve from the sharp city air that was occasionally accompanied by a plume of putrid stench.  It was quiet, warm, and cozy — so unlike the constanting chatter on the street mixed with insistent car horns all surrounded by cold steel and glass.

            There was no cordial greeting from a clerk.  That was normal for city businesses, Alastor had come to find out.  He didn’t mind.  He instead focused on the gramophone, mindfully stepping around carefully stacked comics-filled crates on his way to get a closer look.

            It was beautiful.  The wood had musical notes elaborately carved along the border of the wooden frame, with golden flint imbedded in the wood around the border.  The handcrank still had its wooden handle and the horn was thoroughly attached to the elbow without any dents in the brass.  There were chips in the wood, sure, and several parts of the varnish had been weathered down, but those were all treatable.  He just needed a record to test if the turntable actually functioned—

            He noticed the price tag and his heart plummeted into his stomach.  It was over two thousand dollars.

            He hadn’t expected to be able to afford it, not really, but he had expected it to be affordable enough for him to at least dream about affording it.  The engorged price was reasonable, he was sure, but seeing that many numbers in front of the zero only reminded him how very little finances he had.  With the current state of his life, it would take him a few years to save up that much money — and only if he were lucky and there weren’t any new encumbrances along the way.  Then, even if he that much money, he didn’t have the luxury of spending it on trivial wants.  There were far more important things he’d invest in instead.

            His first thought went to the café’s oven, which had been acting up for a couple years now.

            Dejected, Alastor stepped out of the display and made his way further into the shop, pushing the gramophone and the looming financial dread that came with it to the back of his mind.  He kept a tight hold on his bag as he maneuvered around the precarious clusters of various trinkets, making sure not to knock over anything and pay the price for it.

            There were only a couple of other people in the shop and Alastor wasn’t sure if either of them might be the owner.  He barely paid them any mind, instead looking between one trapping and the next.

            His gaze drifted over a tin tea set, colorful bobbles, glass figures, ceramic pottery, and so many beautiful pieces of furniture.  He followed the indirect aisles down to a basement area, looking from one display to the next with no particular organization to his method.

            He was idly rifling through a cardboard box filled with old vinyl when he let out a subtle gasp.  He eagerly picked up one from the lot.  The cardboard sleeve was worn and beaten along the edges, but the gold and red design was unmistakable.

            Turning it over in his hand, he smiled brightly at seeing the bold print across the front: Upside Down by BGB.  It was his mother’s favorite album.  Every day Alastor had heard it in his youth, up until the moment his father destroyed it during his violent outburst on the day he left them.

            Alastor slid the vinyl from its sleeve, double-checking if they matched.  Not only was it a match, but the vinyl was barely damaged at all.  It seemed the sleeve had taken the brunt of the damage throughout its life.

            “Aren’t you a delectable find!”  Alastor laughed in utter delight.  He checked for a price written on any of the boxes but found none.  It didn’t matter.  He was going to buy this, no matter the cost.

            So long as he had enough money.

            “Holy shit!  Alastor, is that you?  It is you!”

            Alastor barely had a chance to register the words before a hand was on his shoulder and spinning him around.  Without having to look, Alastor knew exactly who had ensnared him.

            That voice was undeniable.  He’d recognize it in a choir’s harmony.  That deep voice with a subtle gravitas was unlike any other, especially when it went up in pitch during a bout of excitement.  The hands-on pursuit, the shark-like grin across his face, the heterochromatic eyes that pierced him through to his core, they were all unmistakable.

            “Vincent Whittman,” Alastor said, taking a step back to reclaim his personal space.  “Never thought I’d find you in a place such as this.”

            Vincent barked out a laugh.  “Whereas this is the exact kind of place I’d expect to find you, old-timer.  Still living in years gone by, huh?”

            Alastor looked Vincent over.  The years had done him good.  Sure, there were prominent grey streaks through his otherwise black hair now, but they made him look dignified and mature.  He still kept the clean-shaven look, but his cleft chin was more chiseled without the residual youthful fat he had retained back when they attended college together.  His suit was well done up, too.  New and clean with a crisp collar.  The sharp blue and reds complimented him well, and the bowtie was particularly appealing.

            Meanwhile, here was Alastor, wearing a coat older than himself, shoes scuffed from constant use, and slacks with hems beginning to unravel.  The stark contrast between them caused something to curdle in Alastor’s stomach.

            “What’s that you got there?” Vincent asked, stepping forward to reclaim the space.  Unfortunately, it seemed that he had not outgrown his intrusive nature, as was apparent with how he blatantly reached for the vinyl.

            Alastor pulled it back protectively.  “If you must know, it’s a record.”

            “Yeah, I see that,” Vincent said with a chuckle.  “I mean what kind it is.”

            “As if you’d know,” Alastor commented as he turned on his heel and started towards the stairs.  He could  hear Vincent following behind him.  “What brings you here, exactly?  Certainly you’re not shopping for yourself.”

            “Yeah, you’re right.  I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” Vincent said with a chuckle.  “No, at work we’re trying to promote company morale and started a secret gift exchange thing.  And the guy I drew is into this old shit.  Thought I’d find some ancient tea kettle or something for him to jack off to.”

            Alastor rolled his eyes.  This objectionable side of Vincent was not something he had missed.

            Vincent’s tone turned tender as he delicately asked, “So… is your mom doing better?”

            Alastor stopped and looked Vincent over again.  Through the thick box-frame glasses, Alastor could see a warmth in those otherwise cool eyes.  And just like that, Alastor was reminded why they had managed to get close in the first place all those years again.

            “She passed away last year,” Alastor responded simply.  He wasn’t ready to unbox all the complications that had followed since her fall all those years ago.

            Vincent frowned, his shoulders sagging.  “Oh.  I’m sorry to hear that.”

            There was something about the genuine remorse on his face that had Alastor smiling assuringly.  “It’s alright.  She’s not in pain anymore.”

            That grin was back, albeit softer.  “There’s that, at least.  You okay?”

            “I’ve already dealt with it,” Alastor said dismissively as he resumed his trek up the stairs.

            “Well, look!”  Vincent was suddenly next to him, an arm draped around Alastor’s shoulders.  “It’s good to see you!  After you dropped out of school, I didn’t hear from you.  I tried finding you on socials, you know.  If you’re here, does that mean you moved back to the city?”

            Alastor shrugged off Vincent’s arm and hurried his way up the stairs.  “I’m afraid not.  Still back home.”

            “Back in bumfuck nowhere?” Vincent asked, following after again.  “I had hoped you’d move beyond that by now.  I know you hated it there.”

            “I never said that.”

            “Yes, you did.  You said you wanted to move beyond it and make a name for yourself.  Start your own restaurant and all that.”

            “Yes, well, things change.”  He sure as hell wasn’t going to talk about the circumstances that had kept him in Hartland, especially not during some spontaneous reunion that had already reminded Alastor of his shortcomings.  “You should know that most of all, Vincent.  You’ve certainly changed since last I saw you.  Is that grey in your hair, or did you have a fight with some bleach?”

            “The women love it,” he responded, voice sultry.  “I think it adds some shine.  And you know me, Al.  I’m always making myself brighter than ever before.”

            “Yes, almost blindingly so,” Alastor grumbled.

            Once they mounted the top of the stairs, Vincent hurried forward, moving in front of Alastor and blocking the way.  “Look,” he started, “I can see you’re still angry with me.  I know I didn’t react well when you, you know… left.  I had thought…”  He took a deep breath and plastered on one of his too-sharp grins, showing teeth that were too white to be natural.  “It doesn’t matter anymore.  We’ve found each other again!  And I want to make up for how I behaved.”  He reached forward again, filling the cramped space to loop an arm around Alastor’s.  His other hand reached for the vinyl.  “Let me buy that for you.”

            Again, Alastor pulled the vinyl out of reach.  He tried to step away, but he was stuck between Vincent and a tower of glass sitting on precarious shelves.  “I have no need for your generosity,” Alastor responded smoothly.  “As you can see, I’m doing just fine.  I hardly need some guilt-wallowing gesture of good grace.”

            Alastor was familiar with Vincent’s imposing habits, though he was out of practice with dealing with them.  He had to pull from an old resource of patience to not shove him away.

            Touch had become a scarce thing over the years since he had returned home.  His mother was the only person who ever really indulged herself and the last time had been a year ago.  All this contact was starting to rub Alastor raw.

            “Alright, alright.  You’re a man of pride, I remember that about you.  But, come on, you don’t have to lie to me.  That’s the same coat and scarf you wore in college.  Hell, I’m pretty sure you used the same bag too.”

            As shocked as he was that Vincent recognized his attire from ten years ago, he found it more frustrating.  “That’d be impressive if that were true,” Alastor snarked.  “Perhaps those thick frames of yours could do with a new prescription.  Or are those as artificial as your smile; purely for show?”

            Vincent’s brows hung low, looking on the verge of pitying.  He opened his mouth to say something but he was interrupted when a voice on Alastor’s other side piped up.

            “Alastor!  There you are.  I was wondering where you wondered off.  How’s your shopping going, sweetie?”

            Alastor whipped his head around, dreading to see who else from college was suddenly being thrust into his life.  He was stuck staring, however, when he looked into the face of a complete stranger.

            He was a blonde fellow, older, with pale streaks in his hair.  His skin was light, with rosy cheeks and blue eyes that shone like a river glimmering under direct sunlight.  He was smiling brightly as he stepped up beside Alastor, but a frown formed on his face when he took in Vincent and the arm still wrapped around Alastor’s.

            “Who’s this?” asked the stranger.

            “Who’s this?” asked Vincent, raising a brow.  His arm tightened around Alastor’s.

            That’s exactly what Alastor wanted to know.

            “I’m his boyfriend,” declared the stranger, looking downright smug.

            My what now?!  Alastor gawked at the stranger, completely baffled by this sudden development.  As far as Alastor was aware, he was single with no callers on his doorstep.  His shock gave way to simmering rage, his frustration boiling over now that he was having to contend with not one but two presumptuous assholes.

            The stranger pointed to Vincent’s arm.  “And I’d appreciate it if you took your hands off him.”

            There was a brief second of reluctance, but Vincent obliged.

            Oh.

            Oh.

            “I didn’t realize,” said Vincent, sounding discouraged.  A shadow fell over his face as he looked at the blonde stranger on Alastor’s other side.  But once he regarded Alastor again, his bright smile was back in place, looking almost hungrier than before.

            “It was good to see you again,” he said, and Alastor believed he was being genuine.  “I’d really like it if we could catch up sometime.  If you want?”

            The nervous wobble of his grin, the way he partially averted his gaze, how his shoulders slumped slightly… this was the secret side of Vincent that Alastor had found endearing back then.  It might be worth rekindling a version of what they once had.

            “Perhaps,” Alastor said, giving one of his signature teasing grins.  After all, had they met up under different circumstances, Alastor might not have hesitated.  “I’ll have to consider it.”

            “Still the same you,” Vincent said with an amused grin.  His expression momentarily darkened, however, when the stranger saddled up closer to Alastor’s side.  “Well, I’ll see you around.”  He formed one hand into a gun and shot it at Alastor before turning away.

            Alastor waited until he heard the string of bells on the door before turning to the stranger.  “Do you mind?”

            The stranger’s brows shot to his high hairline.  “Mind what?  Oh!”  He took a step back, giving Alastor some personal space again.  “There you are.”

            That wasn’t what Alastor had meant, but he appreciated it.

            With his newfound freedom, Alastor took the opportunity to look the stranger over properly.  He had a slight figure, and a height that made it easy to overlook him.  And while, yes, there was some age to his face in the form of laugh lines, there was youthfulness about him in his large, expressive eyes.

            If this man had any expectation of getting Alastor’s number out of this, then he was sorely mistaken.  However… the way he looked up at Alastor… it looked almost innocent.  There didn’t seem to be any underlying objective.

            Or perhaps that was part of his game.  And Alastor had no intention of participating.

            “I didn’t need your help.”

            The stranger blinked up at Alastor, looking the epitome of puzzlement as he quirked his head — looking far too much like a curious bird.  “I didn’t say you did.”  He scratched at his cheek.  “It’s just, well… he sounded like an ex of yours and I know how—well, I don’t, actually—but from what I know, exes can get ugly.  And you looked uncomfortable with how he was touching you, so… I thought… you know… I could get him to back off.”

            He was rambling; hurried words slowing down as his confidence dwindled.  Alastor narrowed his eyes at him, trying to measure if this stranger was being genuine.

            “You were eavesdropping?” Alastor decided to say, not knowing how else to respond.

            The stranger looked abashed as he weakly gestured to the near empty shop around them.  “It’s not exactly quiet in here,” he defended.

            Which, fair.

            “And I didn’t mean to!  He was just so loud and I was right here, so—”

            “Yes, Vincent has a way of speaking several volumes too high,” Alastor said with mild irritation.  Great.  Now Alastor’s business and the state of his apparel had essentially been announced to the world at large.  Alastor should be thankful, he supposed, that it was only this stranger who happened to be with them in the shop.

            The stranger snorted.  “His name was Vincent?  For a name meant to mean ‘victory,’ he did a poor job of accomplishing it.”

            Alastor smiled.  He could appreciate the irony.

            “Wait a minute,” Alastor said, realization dawning on him.  “How did you know my name?”

            The stranger pointed.  “It’s on your scarf.  I took a gamble.  Good thing I was right!  Hoo-boy!  That would have been embarrassing otherwise.  Can you imagine?”

            It would have been quite counter-productive if someone feigning to be his boyfriend couldn’t even get his name right.  A part of him wished that had been the case.  That would have been an entertaining show.

            Idly, Alastor reached up and ran his finger along the length of the stitches marking his name on the scarf.  If his mother knew what her personal touch had done for him, he was sure her soul up in Heaven would swell beyond even what God could manage.

            “I like the colors,” the stranger blurted out.  “Very festive!”

            Alastor lifted a brow as he pointedly looked over the stranger’s clothing.  “Seems your style,” he commented, noting the red and green stripes that made up his vest.  And was that a clip in his hair shaped like Santa’s hat?  “Where did you come from, exactly?  Somewhere in the far north, I’d guess.  Isn’t this your busy season?”

            The stranger lifted his own brow.  “Huh?”

            Alastor wasn’t quite sure why he felt the sudden need to insult this perfect stranger, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.  “Is your boss aware you’ve left his workshop?  Or did you sneak out?  With that diminutive height of yours, you probably slipped right under his rosy nose.”

            Alastor was able to see every reaction on the stranger’s face in slow motion as realization very gradually dawned on him.  Brows lowered into a furrow, uplifted lips went slack as the jaw opened, wrinkles grew more profound over the arch of a button nose.

            “Hold on now!  I come and help you out and you call me an elf?”

            “Did you not help out because you were an elf?  Oh, you’ll have to forgive me.  I was under a false impression.  I wasn’t aware you were merely short.”

            The stranger let out a loud gasp, fully aghast.  “I am not short!”

            The laugh was wrenched from Alastor’s chest before he had a chance to contain it.  He could hear his own laugh echo in the shop.  He brought a hand to his chest as he tried to quell his burst of laughter, only to laugh anew when he saw the stranger let out an irritable huff, his rosy cheeks puffing out in open indignation.

            “Oh—you’re serious?” he asked, the words barely coming out between his fits of laughter.  “Oh, that’s too rich!”

            “Yeah, well—”  The stranger turned taught, small nostrils flaring as he sharply pointed at Alatastor.  “You’re a beanpole!  A crooked one!  Filled with termites!”

            Alastor was laughing so hard it became hard to breathe.  His vision blurred as he went wall-eyed.

            “Fine!  Be that way,” said the stranger, stomping off.  “I’m writing Santa and telling him you’re an asshole.”

            Alastor followed after him.  Not because he had any particular drive to.  It was merely the best route to the front counter.  “You’d be doing me a favor,” Alastor said between gasping breaths.  “It gets awfully cold back home and I could use some coal.”

            “Oh, no, no, no,” the stranger said, turning just enough to wag his finger at Alastor.  “I’ll make sure Santa brings you half-eaten cookies.  The ones even he couldn’t finish.”

            Such a vindictive gift!  But perhaps he could have fun with that.  Old cookies could be crumbled down into a delicious pie crust.  And all the different flavors would add a challenge to try and incorporate them all.

            “I could work with that,” Alastor mused aloud.

            “And reindeer droppings!”

            “Well, now you’re just taking away all the fun.”

            “Good, that is the intenti—ah!”  The stranger had been looking at Alastor, smirking widely and not paying attention to where he was walking.  Neither him nor Alastor had noticed the small protrusion sticking out between two tool boxes.  It was so small, barely an obstruction, but the stranger had managed to step on it at just the right angle, causing it to roll.  The stranger yelped, instinctively throwing his arms out to catch himself on anything.  Then, at the last minute, it looked as if he remembered that he was surrounded by piles of expensive miscellaneous items and withdrew his arms.

            He dropped like a felled tree, all ninety-degree angles and hitting his stomach smack on hard ground.

            Alastor hurt just watching.  And the stranger didn’t make any immediate move to get up, instead letting out a long groan.

            “My ribs, spleen, back, kidneys—oh, I’m hurting.”

            The fall was bad enough, but then something much worse happened.  Perhaps it was the impact of the fall, or maybe the item that had tripped him in the first place had rolled against something and caused a chain reaction.  Whatever the cause, a tower of hazardously piled trinkets began to sway.  There was a moment of uncertainty — of hope that they would miraculously stay in place — but then the worst happened.

            The pile crumbled, various items falling off in chaotic unison.

            Alastor was moving on pure impulse.  He wasn’t even aware that he dropped the vinyl and slipped the bag from his shoulder as he dove forward with reaching hands, pushing anything that was falling down towards the stranger, who was still recovering on the floor.

            Alastor’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw a fucking bowling ball of all things roll from the pile and start its descent.  His fingers barely made contact, some curling painfully from the pressure, but it was enough to push the ball away to just miss the man’s head with a heavy thunk.

            The momentum of his dive had Alastor falling forward, landing on the stranger and emitting a pained oomph from him.

            With arms protectively wrapping around his head, Alastor lied there, feeling items plummet down and bounce off his back and shoulders.  It took a long moment before everything seemed to stop.  With baited breath, Alastor looked up to make sure it was finally over.

            “Oh, shit!  Are you two all right?!”

            Alastor saw a young man racing towards them.  Past his massive round lenses, Alastor could see bulging eyes the size of saucers, long black hair swishing behind him in his haste to get to them.

            As Alastor curled his fingers, cringing at the bolt of lightning shooting down his arm, he wondered what constituted as “all right.”  Looking down, he noted that his fingers looked as straight as he remembered, so he figured nothing was broken.

            “Can you get off me, please?” came a breathy voice beneath him.

            Oh, right!

            Alastor scrambled off, hurrying to his knees then shooting to his feet.

            The stranger rose much slower.  The young man with the black hair was by his side instantly, helping him up.  “What happened?” the young man asked.

            “I tripped on something,” the stranger said, his voice tight.

            “An antler,” Alastor supplied, bending down and wrenching the thing out from between the tool boxes.

            “I am so sorry!  Are you all right?” he asked again, the S’s dragging in a lisp.

            Based on that reaction. Alastor deduced this was the shop owner.  Or at least an employee.  He was frantic as he looked between Alastor and the stranger, who was gazing down at the bowling that had rolled across the weathered carpet.

            “Peachie keen,” Alastor said as he dismissively waved the antler in his hand.  He was not ignorant of the fact that some things that had previously been in one piece were now in multiple on the floor.  Alastor hoped that if he played it casual and made a point to indicate the cause of the mess, then the shop wouldn’t try and charge him for breaking their valuables.

            “I think I’m fine,” said the stranger, giving a wary grin.  “More shocked than anything.”

            “I am so, so sorry!  I can’t believe this happened,” said the shop owner.  He ran one shaky hand through his hair.  “I can call the doctor for you.”

            There was no way in Hell Alastor was going to pay for an ambulance ride.  Nor was he going to cough up any money for a doctor’s visit.  Some proper bindings at home would do the trick to fix any damage done.  “That’s not necessary, my good man.  Nothing some ice can’t fix.”

            His eyes locked with the stranger’s, and he was curious about what he saw.  The stranger was looking at Alastor as though he were a puzzle.  Like he was weighing something in his mind, the gears visibly grinding in the way he furrowed his brow.

            The stranger finally looked away, turning to the shop employee.  “No, thank you.  I’m fine.”

            The young man signed.  “Thank goodness!  Don’t worry about the mess — I’ll handle it.  And as an apology, you can have any one item in the shop!  It’s on the house!  Anything you want.”

            He sounded a little overly eager to please, thought Alastor.  He deduced that the young man was wanting to avoid a lawsuit for a hazardous shop.  A stalemate, then.  Alastor could accept these terms.  And he already knew exactly what he wanted.

            It was only at that moment that Alastor realized he was no longer holding the vinyl in his hand.  In a fresh wave of panic, he spun, looking for where he must have thrown it.  He spied the red corner of the cardboard sleeve behind a vanity and rushed forward to grab it.  It looked it over, noticing a new tear along the side, but thankfully the vinyl itself was unharmed.

            Alastor allowed himself to relax with a relieved sigh.  Only to then remember that he had also thrown his bag at some point.

            Alastor let out a devastated groan as he spotted the various cuts of meat now scattered across the carpet.  Some remained still wrapped in the wax paper, but most were fully exposed to the filth and carpet fibers.

            All those proteins had been so expensive.  And now they were a complete waste.

            Sinking back to his knees, Alastor began the depressing job of cleaning up the trash.  As he reached for the hanger steak, another hand shot out and grabbed it first.  He looked up to see the stranger crouched across from him, an expression on his face that Alastor couldn’t identify.

            “I didn’t need your help, you know,” the stranger said through puckered lips.  Was he pouting?

            “If you say so,” Alastor responded smoothly, shooting the man a grin that heavily implied that he believed otherwise.

            “I’m sorry about your, uh… dinner?”

            “They were for new menu items,” Alastor elaborated.

            The stranger perked up where he sat.  “Are you a chef?”

            Alastor’s grin turned proud.  “Of sorts.”

            “Where?  I’ll come eat there.  Support the business and all that.”

            If these recent events were any indication of what fortune followed this man, Alastor thought it might be beneficial if he steered clear of him.

            “Somewhere you’ve never heard of in a town you’ll never visit,” Alastor said as he grabbed the last of the fallen proteins.  The shop owner had brought a trash can over while he cleaned up the mess and Alastor took the liberty of using it to dump the meat.

            Alastor checked his watch, glaring down at the clock face as the second hand tick-tick-ticked at the six, never moving to the seven.  What time was it?!  He spun, looking for a clock.  There were tens of them in sight, but none of them were in agreement on the time.  Frantically, he pulled out his phone to check the time, cursing when he saw the late hour.  Mimzy was going to abandon the store at this rate.

            “What’s wrong?” asked the stranger.

            Alastor ignored him and instead addressed the shop owner.  He lifted the vinyl.  “I’d like to make this my one item, if you don’t mind.  Do you need to ring me up for it?”

            The young man waved him off.  “It’s all yours.”

            “Thank you.”  He turned to the stranger, who was looking rather pathetic with how he was gazing up at Alastor from his seat on the floor.  “It’s been fun, but I believe it’s time this has come to an end.  Adieu.”

            He took a few steps before turning and looking at the stranger again.  “By the way,” he said, pointing to his own head, “you’ve lost your clip.”

            The stranger let out a shriek, both hands shooting up to grope at his hair.  “Charlie bought me that,” he cried as he crawled along the floor to look for it.

            Alastor chuckled.  The clip was missing from his hair, yes, but it had fallen onto his vest, the clip’s open arm having snagged on the V-shaped ending of the neckline.  As Alastor turned away, he could hear the stranger frantically muttering to himself as he scoured the floor.

Chapter 3: Chapter Two

            Lucifer shivered.  It was cold inside his office.  Well, his former office.  It had never felt so cold before, no matter how frigid the winter winds grew.

            The room was barren now, gutted out of all the things that made it his own.  It was a compliment to the hollow ache he felt in his chest for having to say farewell to his home of nearly twenty years.

            But this was his decision.  It was best for everyone.  And there was already an office waiting for him.  He just needed to kick himself into gear and unpack everything.

            “Brrrr, it is cold today.  How’s the weather there, Charlie?  I hope it’s warmer,” he said into the phone his shoulder pressed against his ear.

            “British winters are so mild,” Charlie said on the other side of the line.  “All I’m wearing is a jumper.”

            “A jumper?” Lucifer mimicked.  “What’s a jumper?”

            “Oh, sorry!  It’s what they call sweaters here.”

            “Oh, I see.”

            Charlie had told him that before.  Hadn’t she?  It felt like she had.  It sounded familiar now.  Or was his brain just telling him it was familiar because he’d just learned it and merely repeating the word, even so shortly after, brought with it a sense of familiarity?  He didn’t know.  He was never good about keeping his mind straight.

            He bent down to pick up his last box, then let out a shriek when the movement caused his phone to slip from its perch on his shoulder.  He scrambled to pick up his phone and readjusted his grip on the box to carry it with one arm.  It wasn’t efficient and already he could feel the box slipping, but at least he could keep the conversation going.

            “Sorry, sweetie, I dropped you there.  What were you saying?”

            “I was saying you have to try this tea I just discovered!  I’ll send you a box once I get some for my dorm.  British teas are amazing!”

            Lucifer smiled, the excitement in Charlie’s voice causing a warmth to swell in his chest.  He was so happy that she was enjoying her time there.  He had been so scared that once she went to study abroad, she’d be miserable without anyone she knew.  But he really should have known better.  Charlie was a social butterfly and made friends with anyone who crossed her path.

            “Sure, but where’s the caffeine?” he asked playfully.  “Tea won’t keep you awake during your classes.”

            Charlie laughed good-naturedly.  “The classes aren’t so bad.  Really, most are better than high school.  I remember my teachers talking up how strict college professors are, but all of them have been so fun and like to keep the classroom energy up.”

            Lucifer hummed, nodding along despite the fact that she couldn’t see.  He remembered his teachers doing the same fear tactics to keep his class in line.  He never had reason to question it since he never attended college.

            By the time he graduated, Charlie had been born.  Lucifer didn’t have the luxury of advanced education anymore.  So with a loan from his father, he instead leapt directly into a successful career.

            “I’m glad to know you’re liking your professors!  Fun in school is important.”  Fun in anything was important, as far as Lucifer was concerned.  Life was miserable otherwise.  Maybe he should send Charlie a clown nose, to make sure she had fun no matter where in the world she wound up.

            “Yeah, I feel the same—what?”

            Lucifer paused.  “What?”

            “Hold on, Dad.”  Charlie’s voice grew distant as she talked with someone he couldn’t hear.  “Yeah, okay.  Hey, Dad?  I have to go.  Vaggi and I are going to a play and we want to beat the traffic.”

            “Oh!  Yeah, sure thing!  You go and have a wonderful night.”

            “I will!  Thanks, Dad!  Love you.”

            “I love you too.”  The line went quiet the moment the words left his mouth.

            Then Lucifer was alone, in a barren office, in the freezing cold.  The hollow ache in his chest grew.

            “Let me help with that,” came Lilith’s genial voice.  She was at his side in an instant and took the box from his arm.

            “Thanks, Lil,” he said with a grateful smile up at his wife.

            Ex-wife.

            God above, that was going to take some time to get used to saying.

            “Of course.”  She smiled down at him, though it was tentative and uncertain.

            It felt awkward.

            There was a boundary now; a limitation of the type of intimate moments they could share where previously there had been none.

            They both realized they were staring too long and quickly looked away.  “I’ll double-check the closet, just in case,” Lucifer said.

            At the same time, Lilith said, “I’ll take this to the counter for you.”

            Lucifer spent more time circling the office, just mulling over his own thoughts and emotions, than actually looking for anything.  He knew the office was clean.  He was sure he even packed the cobwebs.

            He made his way over to the window.  The blinds remained but the curtains were gone, leaving the cold white light to come through unabated.  The clouds were thick, casting the entire city in a shade of slate grey.  Despite that, it was still beautiful.  He was going to miss this view.

            He stared out at the reaching skyscrapers, the crowded city blocks, the faint light of headlights streaking through the streets far down below.  He tried to capture it all in his mind's eye, carving it into his mind so he could never forget.

            “Lulu,” came Lilith’s gentle tone from behind him.  “Are you okay?”

            Lucifer immediately spun around and gave Lilith one of his award-winning grins.  Which award did it win?  He’d have to find that out later.  “Of course!”

            Great job, Lucifer.  The squeak in your voice really sold it.

            He cleared his throat and tried again.  “Of course,” he said.  Crossing the room, he reached his hands out.  Lilith obliged and did the same, allowing him to take her hands in his.  “This is what I want.  You love it here.  And I need a break from all…”  He gestured towards the window.  “This.”

            She smiled at him, but there was a sad lilt to it.  “Will you visit often?”

            He didn’t have an answer for that yet.  “Maybe.”

            “Maybe I’ll visit you,” she offered.

            “In Heartland?  No.  I don’t think you’d like it there.  It’s all nature and no culture.  Just vast trees that stretch on beyond what the eyes can see.”

            He let out a contended sigh.  “But it really is pretty.  The ground is lush with flowers.  There were so many chicory growing in the lawn, it was practically paved in blue petals.  And it’s so quiet.  And peaceful.”

            Lilith bent down to look him in the eye.  Her smile had turned brighter.  “You seem to really love it there.”

            “I really do,” he confessed.

            Her smile grew.  “I’m glad.”

            She lightly tugged on his hands, a subtle gesture for him to move forward.  He complied and let her wrap her arms around him.  Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around her, basking in the warmth of her embrace.

            He was going to miss this.

            He was going to miss her.

            “You’ll stay in touch?” she asked tentatively.

            “So long as you do,” he promised.

            There was a long beat as they held each other, the unspoken worry hanging over the both of them that this may be their last time doing this.

            Lucifer was the first to pull away.  He made a show of taking a deep breath then threw on his most confident grin.  “Welp!  I better head out if I’m wanting to beat the snow.”

            She nodded.  “Alright.”

            They walked to the dining room where Lucifer’s last box of possessions sat on the table.  He took it in both hands but didn’t immediately move.  He took one last sweeping gaze around the penthouse.  He and Lilith had lived here since the summer they had graduated high school.  It had improved vastly over the years, from the quality of art that hung on the wall and to the style of furniture that filled the place and made it feel like home.

            He could see Lilith approaching and he forced another grin.  “I guess I’m off.”

            She lifted a thermos to his eyeline.  “I prepared you some coffee to keep you warm during the drive.  With plenty of cream, sugar, and caramel.”

            “You’re a beautiful soul.  Thank you.”

            She placed it in his box then bent down and kissed him on the cheek.  “Drive safe,” she said, her words as gentle as a prayer, but carrying with them a far deeper meaning than the words themselves could convey.

            As Lucifer took the long elevator ride down to the ground level, his phone chirped in his pocket.  He shifted the box in his arm to slip it free and look at the preview on the lock screen.

            “Sorry dad,” the message read.  “didn’t mean to hang up on you!  Be careful driving k?  And don’t just hole urself up in that hose  go and make friends!”

            Lucifer smiled, feeling warm down to the tips of his toes.  That was easier said than done, making friends, especially as an adult.  But if Charlie wanted him to try, then Lucifer was going to try.

           

❄↜☃↝❄

 

            “Heartland” was the perfect name for this quaint little town.  Everyone Lucifer had come across had been positively delightful.  They were kind and considerate, and greeted him with a smile.  It was a stark difference to the wary indifference he had grown accustomed to while in the city.

            Despite him being a complete stranger in their small community, he had been welcomed with open arms.  The mayor was more than supportive and offered an ear every time Lucifer had a question or posed a new promotional project for the town.

            Though he was not ignorant to the fact that not everyone was happy about his renewal project for the homestead and the repurposing of the wild wood around the town.  Lucifer hadn’t met any of those naysayers yet, but Rosie had warned him plenty enough.

            “So long as you remain your charmin’ self, they’ll warm up to you in no time,” she encouraged.  “But some people like the town’s roots, so be mindful.  One fella in particular is especially sensitive to this type of thing.  Be careful around him.  He has quite the influence and if you get on his bad side, it could be your downfall.”

            At Lucifer’s immediate despair upon that token of warning, she winked at him and gave him an assuring pat on the arm.  “Don’t worry, darling!  He’s prickly, but I get the feelin’ he’ll like you.”

            After that, every time Lucifer went to town, he forced on a bigger smile and doled out all the charm he could muster.  He didn’t know who this prickly person was — Rosie had made a point not to tell him, instead saying, “You’ll know him soon enough” — and didn’t want to give a bad first impression.

            Lucifer had officially lived in Heartland for a week now and he still wasn’t sure if he’d met the man.

            Over the course of the week, Lucifer had primarily spent it on driving around town and familiarizing himself with the local businesses.  It took some painful adjusting, living in a small country town.  He had grown comfortable with the conveniences of the city.  Restaurants were open 24/7 back home, but here they all closed at 10.  Back in the city, Lucifer could get groceries and food orders with the touch of a few buttons on his phone.  Here, they didn’t have a reliable delivery service.  When only a couple drivers offered their services on a part-time basis, it was difficult to predict when there was a window of opportunity to order anything.

            He also hadn’t realized until now how much he relied on Lilith to keep their house well supplied.  She bought most of the decorations, yes, and organized the house, but he hadn’t been aware of just how much effort went in to keep the kitchen stocked and have toiletries at the ready.  His poor pantry and bathroom were as barren as they’d been when he first moved in.  Well, he at least learned to stock plenty of toilet paper after one particularly dire evening.

            Some day soon, he’d have to finally bite the bullet and do his own shopping.  That was something he hadn’t done in… well, he didn’t really want to put a number on it.  But going out shopping meant being out in public.  With the public.  Surrounded by a bunch of strangers.

            Just the mere idea of it almost had him spiraling, thinking back to years of countless late nights, dressed to impress at fancy functions and banquets, acting like he didn’t care that everyone had their eyes on him.

            He didn’t have a choice anymore, though.  No more holing himself up in his office and letting his approved parts of the world stop at his doorstep—

            “Holy sassafras!”

            Lucifer jerked the wheel of his car just in time to avoid a doe that had jumped out of the bushes.  The sudden turn of the wheel caused his tires to slide on some ice along the road.  Shrieking out sounds that he liked to believe were words, Lucifer pumped the brake and did his best to steady his swerving tires.  When finally he came to a stop — on the road, thank Father above — he popped his head out the window to glare at the doe.

            “Watch where you’re going!  Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to walk in the street?!”

            She only stared at him, a single ear flicking casually.  Slowly, she turned and looked to the bushes she had leapt from.  A few seconds later, a fawn came trotting out after her.

            “Okay, so you do know how dangerous it can be,” Lucifer observed.  “Yeah, well… you still shouldn’t walk in the street!”

            Then he made the mistake of looking at the fawn.  His heart melted.  Any dwindling irritation was gone and he cooed at the wobbly creature.  “Stay safe, little guy, okay?  Please don’t jump out in traffic like your mom.”

            The fawn didn’t seem to hear him, too focused on the road beneath its hooves.  Gradually, the mother led the way across the street and the fawn followed.  Well, as best it could.  The moment it stepped on the ice, its shaky legs slipped in every and all directions as it fought to stay upright.

            Lucifer was in stitches as he watched it slip, fall, slip again, then slide straight off the road and into the bushes on the other side.  “Poor thing,” he said once he managed to take in a breath.  With a contented sigh, he cautiously continued down the street towards town.

            He passed the town’s sign along the way, the words “Your loving home where the deer roam” popping out unlike ever before.

            That had been another thing that required some adjusting: the wildlife.

            The worst Lucifer had to deal with back home were owls roosting on the ledges and overly friendly pigeons.  But out here, there was so much more.

            During the summer construction of the homestead, multiple raccoons fell into the empty built-in pool.  Squirrels kept getting in the walls as they expanded.  Rabbits ate the carefully planted flowers during the landscaping.  And then the deer!  They were always walking up to the building, trotting along the winding porch, leaping on top of construction equipment.  Once, while the men had been taking their break, leaving the door open for ventilation since the cooling system hadn’t been installed yet, a buck strolled into the kitchen and stole a wedge of watermelon.

            Lucifer wouldn’t have believed it if he didn’t see the security footage himself.

            It was going to make structuring trails in the woods complicated, but he knew the end result would be worth any setback.  A State Park would not only benefit the townspeople, but it would welcome tourism.  The town’s rustic style with traditional mom and pop businesses could be appealing to many who needed a break from their busy lives.  All the town needed was a drawing point and proper marketing, all of which were things Lucifer intended to supply.

            And a coffee shop.  The town was in desperate need of a coffee shop.

            The few restaurants he’d ordered from had… fine coffee, he supposed.  But it was just simple brewed coffee.  No lattes, no cappuccinos, no machiatos, no morchas, no cartados, no frappuccinos.  No cold foam, no caramel drizzle, no whipped topping, no pumps of vanilla or chocolate flavors.

            It was just plain, boring, bland, unimaginative, soul-crushing coffee.

            And that was something Lucifer refused to adapt to.

            When he proposed a coffee shop to Rosie, however, she was visually hesitant about the idea.

            “You’re not wrong,” she had said, lips drawn into a thin line.  “A lot of people have talked about getting one but—uh…”  She dragged out the word, using her hands to visualize that she was weighing her options.

            Like the flick of a switch, her uncertainty was gone and she had her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him out of her office.  “You should get to know the people more!  Once you do, come back to me with an idea, okay?  Okay.  Oh!  I know where you can get the best coffee in town!”

            Vintage Verses.  That’s where she had directed him.  But as Lucifer pulled into the crowded parking lot, he started to wonder if he had heard wrong.  Or if perhaps Rosie was poking fun at him, thinking he’d enjoy some fictional coffee in the meantime.  Why else would she have sent him to a bookstore?

            Lucifer slowly stepped out of his car as he looked over the building’s traditional aesthetic.  It was a classic design that focused heavily on the display windows with a recessed storefront entry.  The paneling along the stall riser and pilaster were simple, allowing more attention for the display and transom windows.  He looked up to the traditional entablature, which had the store’s name painted along it.

            The panels were worn, the paint was chipped, and the iron door handle was rusted, but all that added to the building’s conventional beauty.  It was rare to come across a building so old that was still in use.

            Lucifer smiled as he observed the frosty decorations on the windows and the string lights that could be seen lining the windows on the inside.  Just like many other stores in town, the owner really took to the holiday season.  Something that only became more obvious as Lucifer made his way inside the shop.

            Beyond the jingling of the bells above the door, he could hear Christmas jazz music drifting through the room.  Small holiday trinkets could be seen decorating the shelves, tables, and counter, sitting comfortably amidst rows upon rows of books.

            Curiously, Lucifer made his way to the front counter where books were set up for display.  Between a book about penguins and a hanukkah themed cookbook, Lucifer picked up a pretty novel with ice-like colors along the cover and turned it over to read the summary — only to immediately put it back down when he realized it was some romance between a woman and humanized versions of Santa’s reindeer.

            “Whoa-ho!  Whoopsie,” he said with a nervous chuckle.  He quickly turned away from the counter then came to an abrupt stop, windmilling his arms to stop himself from falling over.  Standing right in front him, one step away from being collided, was a little girl.  She was smiling up at him, her one exposed eye unblinking as she looked between him and the counter behind him.

            “I really like that book,” she said, the grin on her face hungry.

            He forced a smile.  “Oh, uh… is that so?”  He didn’t like the idea of a child — how old was this kid, anyway? — reading something like that.  Maybe she was talking about the penguin book?

            She nodded enthusiastically.  “Yes!  It’s spicy.”

            Not the penguin book, then.  Hopefully she meant spice in one of the recipes of the cookbook.

            “Do you want it?” she asked, starting towards the swing door of the counter.  “I can ring you up!”

            “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.  Ha—no.”  He then looked from her to the room around them.  Despite all the cars outside, it seemed this girl was the only other person here.  “Are you by yourself…?”

            “Alastor’s busy with the café, so I’m helping with the front,” she explained.  “Can I help you find a good book?  I have some good recommendations.”

            Why did she sound so ominous when she said that?  Lucifer pulled at his turtleneck, suddenly feeling anxious.  “No, but thank you.”  Then he remembered why he had come to the store in the first place.  “Oh, well, actually—”

            “Yes?” she asked, perking up.

            “I was told—look, I’m probably at the wrong place—I was told to come here.  And I know this sounds dumb but do you…”  He looked around the store again, especially along the length of the counter.  “Serve coffee?”

            Now that he thought about it, he was sure he detected the faint hint of coffee through the smell of dust and leather.  Or was he so desperate for a good cup that he was starting to imagine it?

            “Oh, yeah!  At the café.”  She pointed not to the front door but to the back of the store.

            “Oh, it’s—the café is in here?  In the same building?”  Was that common for bookstores?

            “Yes,” she said, sounding as though that was obvious.

            “Okay.  Well, I’ll just…”  He thumbed towards the back.  “I’ll go do that.  Order coffee.”

            “Okay,” she said.  Then she grabbed a feather duster and scurried off between the bookcases.

            As Lucifer made his way through the shop, moving away from the natural light of the large windows, he started to grow concerned that he was walking directly into some snuff film.  It was all the more unnerving when he began to hear the chatter of disembodied voices.

            As he rounded an aisle, however, he was pleasantly surprised that the girl had been telling the truth.  In a section of the building, where likely once had been a wall separating the space, the carpet gave way to linoleum.  The cramped bookcases opened up to a small space that was large enough to fit one severely outdated display counter and a couple of bistro tables.

            All of a sudden, the cluster of cars outside made sense.  The small space was filled with customers.  One pair sat at a table, each working on their laptops as they chatted between themselves.  A couple sat at the other table, each egregiously batting their lashes at the other.  A trio of friends stood at the counter, leaning against the round glass display as they talked, one hand holding a steaming drink and the other holding one baked good or another.  In the corner, a single fellow was sitting straight on the ground, a small plate balanced on propped knees as he read a book.

            While the bookstore seemed to be void of customers, the café was bustling.  He wondered if it was always this crowded or if he just managed to catch these people during a brunch rush.

            The moment his eyes landed on the espresso machine sitting on the counter, Lucifer threw all other questions aside as he rushed forward.  To his despair, no one was manning the counter.  He gave a sweeping look over the crowd to see if one of them might step up, but it seemed they were all just normal customers.  Thankfully, there seemed to be a call bell on the counter — painted red with a yellow-toothed grin — and he gave it a ring.

            There was a beat of silence and no response, so he rang it again.  The trio next to him stopped talking and gave him a wary look, but otherwise there was still no response.  He banged on the bell once more.

            That was when the door behind the counter swung open, the aggressive force of the swing causing it to crash loudly with the wall, causing Lucifer to jump.  The trio beside him suddenly left, hurrying to get away.  Lucifer curiously watched them go only to turn and come face-to-face with a grin so sharp and deadly that it could kill.

            “May I help you?” the employee asked, voice clipped as he spoke through his teeth.  Without breaking eye contact, his hand reached forward and grabbed the call bell, silently moving it under the counter.

            Lucifer stared, his mind momentarily reeling.  The man running the counter was young and strikingly handsome.  Auburn locks curled in gentle waves, one single lock drifting forward and coiling against his brow.  Rich greens and warm browns blended together beautifully in hazel eyes, all complimented with beaded wire-frame lenses.  His terracotta skin was flawless and glowing under the warm overhead lights.

            A part of Lucifer was warning him that he should be concerned that this man looked as if he was one conveniently placed knife away from taking Lucifer’s life, but another part of himself felt utterly drawn in.  The choker with the large bell tied around his throat made him look positively sinful and Lucifer felt temptation strike down his spine like lightning.

            As Lucifer took in his sharp chin and upturned nose, he was overwhelmed with a striking sense of déjà vu.  He had seen this man before.  Had been overcome by that smile.  Hadn’t he…?

            He rifled through his thoughts to try and recall the name the girl up front had said.  Alastor!  Alastor.  That name sounded familiar…

            The man’s eyes widened a fraction, his sharp smile twisting slightly as his murderous glare turned to shocked surprise.  “Santa’s Wayward Elf,” he said.  “Decided to disguise yourself today, it seems.  Or has the big man fired you?  If you’re looking to achieve your dream here, I should let you know that we already have two perfectly capable dentists in town.”

            The memory snapped into Lucifer’s mind like a rubber band hitting him square in the face.  “Rude Red Guy,” Lucifer said with a pointed finger.  “From the antique store!”  Then he gasped in realization.  “This is your restaurant?”

            Rude Red Guy’s—Alastor’s eye twitched, his smile growing sharp once more.  “This is my bookstore.”

            “Oh, yeah,” Lucifer said, turning to look back at the aisles of bookcases.  “I was surprised by that.  I expected the place to get ‘the best coffee in town’ to be a diner or something.”  He gestured to the remaining crowd.  “With how popular your café is, I’m surprised this isn’t your main focus.  Why advertise yourself as a bookstore?”

            “Because Vintage Verses is a bookstore,” Alastor elaborated hotly.  There was a beat as he closed his eyes and took a breath.  When he looked at Lucifer again, the animosity in his smile was gone.  “This was originally my mother’s store,” he said, gesturing behind Lucifer with a proud glint in his eye.  “It’s one of the oldest businesses in town.  And one of the two oldest buildings.  Well…”  His glower was back.  “The other being the homestead.  And if you’re who I believe you are, then I have you to thank for butchering it.”

            Oh no.

            Anguish draped over Lucifer like a weighted blanket.  This must be the prickly, influential fellow Rosie had warned him about.

            Lucifer was doomed.

            “Oh!  Well…”  Lucifer cringed at the way his voice pitched.  He scratched the back of his head.  “I wouldn’t call it ‘butchered.’  It’s keeping a lot of its original fixtures!”

            “Exclusively the façade, I’m sure.”

            Lucifer didn’t want to correct him and say that his extensions to the building had already modified the façade’s original design.  “So!  This is one of the town’s oldest buildings, huh?  You keep it in great shape!  Was—Was it always a bookstore?”

            Alastor stared at him, seemingly weighing the authenticity of Lucifer’s interest.  “It used to be a millinery shop,” he explained.  Then he gestured to the dining area.  “Originally with a living space.”

            That explained the café.  The hatter who originally built the place likely lived in it, so it was bought with a kitchen already built-in.  “I see.”

            “If you take a look around, you’ll notice the building’s original shelving in the wells.  It works perfect for a bookstore, really.  It was quite the genius investment,” Alastor said, very obviously boasting.

            It was a little endearing, seeing someone so proud of antiquated charm.  Most people craved modern renovation and convenience.

            “It was a smart choice,” Lucifer agreed.  “Your mom must have a good head on her shoulders.”

            “That she did.  This town was in desperate need of some culture.  Yes, the books may be old and worn, but the stories are just as refined as the books had been when they were first bought.  Much like this store!”

            Lucifer’s mouth gaped for a moment as he mulled over those words.  “Is this… a secondhand bookstore?”

            “Yes,” Alastor said earnestly.

            “Oh… no.”  Bookstores were already a dying business.  With the advancements of technology, not many people bought physical copies anymore.  And brick and mortar establishments were nearly impossible to maintain for something that turned over such a small profit.  But a used bookstore?  Really, it was amazing that it was still up and running at all.

            Alaster shot him a wary glare.  “What was that?”

            “Oh… ho!  Oho,” Lucifer said in an attempt to recover.  “That’s great!  You don’t see such rare finds anymore.  You know what else is a rare find?  Family businesses!  Is that little girl up front your daughter?  She’s really cute!”

            Alastor laughed.  Hard.  “Heavens, no!  I would never—”  He cut himself off with the wave of a hand.  “No.  Niffty is just a persistent little doll who insists on volunteering here.  One day she just strolled in, picked up a rag, and started cleaning.  No matter what we did, we couldn’t get rid of her,” he said with a wistful grin.  “Her home life is quite miserable, you see, and she finds respite being here.  So we decided to keep her around.”

            “Oh,” said Lucifer, brows lifting high into his hairline.  “I—oh.  Well, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”

            “Isn’t it, though?” Alastor asked, acting humble but sounding anything but.  “Now, I have some croissants in the oven and would much rather spend my time saving them from the fire.  What can I get you so you go away?”

            Lucifer snorted.  “That’s some great customer service you have there.  Rosie was right about you.  You are prickly.”

            Alastor blinked, looking momentarily taken aback.  Or insulted.  “I’m not prickly.”

            “Yes, you are.”

            “No, I’m not.  I’m charmingly aloof.”

            “No, you’re a cactus with a short temper, a loud mouth, and a pension for sputtering offenses.”

            Alastor regarded Lucifer for a moment.  Then something strange happened.  His face pinched, lips folding into a tight line, cheeks burning red.  There was an odd, guttural noise coming from his throat.

            “Wha—What is this?  What’s that face?” Lucifer asked.  “Are you constipated?  Did a porcupine crawl in your ass and die or something?”

            Then, in a loud burst, Alastor broke out into laughter.  He doubled over the counter, one arm folding across the surface to support himself as he laughed in barking, breathless spurts.

            It was a very ugly laugh.

            That’s why Lucifer laughed along.  Because of that ugly face.  No other reason.

            “Oh, that’s rich,” Alastor said once he caught his breath, lifting his glasses to wipe at his eye.  “You accuse me of ‘sputtering offenses,’ and you come in saying the most horrendous language.  How inappropriate, especially for an elf.”

            Lucifer smirked.  “Jokes on you!  I deal with the Naughty List children, so I get special privileges.  Why else do I keep bumping into you?”

            Alastor let out a long, doubtful hum.  “Does that mean you’re who determines who stays on the list?”

            “That’s right, bucko, so you should treat me nice,” Lucifer said with an entitled air as he crossed his arms over his chest.

            “‘Bucko’?”

            “Bucko.”

            “Uh-huh.”  Alastor lifted a brow.  “How about I sway your judgement with some good food?”  He gestured to the chalkboard on the wall behind him.

            Oh!  Lucifer had been so focused on acquiring coffee, that he hadn’t put much stock into what might actually be available.  He looked up at the chalkboard — smiling at the antlers that mounted the sign — and scoured over the hand-written menu.

            It was the exact kind of complex mixture of flavors and brews that he had been desperate for.  He was upset that he hadn’t come here sooner.

            If the place had been advertised as a café instead…

            His attention was pulled from the menu when Alastor cleared his throat.  “For the sake of salvaging any attempts of making the Nice List,” he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, “I’ll say this politely.  Do be so kind as to hurry up.  I do have food in the oven.”

            “Oh!  The croissants!  Yeah—um, okay.”

            As he riddled off all the extra pumps and flavors and drizzles he wanted in his coffee, he watched Alastor’s face grow tight with open judgement.  But he didn’t say a word as he nodded along — not writing a single thing down — and made the order.  Alastor did, however, start humming.

            Huh.

            Lucifer bounced on his heels as he accepted the finished coffee, taking a deep whiff of the whipped cream with caramel and chocolate drizzle.

            “Anything else?” Alastor asked.

            “Uh…”  He wanted to order something to eat — he had promised Alastor he would a week ago — but didn’t know what he wanted to try.  He had the sinking dread that if he kept Alastor any longer, the croissants would burn and any positive impression he left would be up in flames.

            “I’ll take that,” he said, pointing to the A-frame sign beside the counter promoting a dish on sale.

            “The pan-seared elk?” Alastor asked.

            Is that what the sign said?  “Yeah, that.”

            Alastor looked him over with an entertained smirk.  “Very well.  It will take a few minutes.”

            “No problem!  You go ahead.  Go do the food thing.  Check on the croissants and all that.”

            There was a breath of a laugh when Alastor turned away.  “I’ll ‘go do the food thing,’” he said as he slipped through the swinging door back towards the kitchen.

            Okay, so maybe Lucifer had a chance with the guy after all.

            His spirits were lifted as he regarded the menu.  It wasn’t the smoothest handwriting, but it was clear enough.  While the coffee side of the menu seemed mainly clean, the food side of the menu was filthy with smeared chalk residue, hinting that the menu was frequently changing.  That could be a sign of an inconsistent chef who wasn’t confident in their menu.  That could also be a sign of a chef who switched the menu based on the season.  Lucifer was curious which category Alastor fell into.

            Lucifer lifted his coffee to his lips and took a hefty drink.  The initial flavor was everything he wanted; rich coffee taste accompanied by caramel and chocolate and vanilla mixed in sweet harmony.  But there was something off.  Like a bitterness to his drink that he didn’t expect.

            Smacking his lips, Lucifer tasted the coffee again.  It took him until he had nearly downed half of the thing to realize what the issue was.

            “This is low-sugar,” he accused, pulling the drink away from himself to glare at it.

            “How observant of you.”

            Looking up, Lucifer spied Alastor making his way from the kitchen, a tray full of croissants in one hand and a plate in the other.

            “I didn’t order low-sugar,” Lucifer pointed out.

            Alastor shot him a weak glare as he deposited the plate on the counter.  He started placing the croissants into the display case.  “You didn’t have to.  You’re welcome.”

            “I like a lot of sugar in my coffee.”

            Alastor didn’t say anything for a moment as he finished what he was doing.  “Sugar is bad for you, my dear,” he finally said as he propped both elbows on the counter to support his chin with his hands.  “Most everything on the menu is sugar-free.”

            Lucifer tried not to pout, he really did.  “What isn’t sugar-free?”

            Alastor flicked a finger towards Lucifer’s coffee.  “There’s only so much I can do about the caramel.  And the chocolate is half-sweet.”

            This was beginning to turn into a massive disappointment.  “Why the sugar-free business model?”

            Alastor’s eyes narrowed with irritation, but Lucifer got the distinct impression that it wasn’t directed towards him.  “Because sugar is addictive.  And it can ruin lives.”  He shrugged.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll adjust.”

            As the only shop in town that sold custom coffee orders, no one was around to challenge his business with sugary goodness.  People were left with no choice but to adapt.  Which, in Lucifer’s opinion, was just cruel.  Coffee was horrible without sugar.

            He took another drink of his coffee.

            “So… the cookies?”

            “Semi-sweet,” Alastor answered swiftly.  “But quite delicious, I must say.  I recommend trying the gingerbread delights.  They’re seasonal and stock is limited.”

            “Uh… sure.”  Though he doubted semi-sweet cookies would be much of a joy to eat.  “I’ll take a variety box.”

            As Alastor prepared his order, Lucifer addressed the plate on the counter.  The plate was dressed beautifully.  Just like what he’d expect from a banquet.  The meat was thinly sliced and resting over a smoothly smeared purée.  It was accompanied by squared potatoes and sautéd collared greens.

            “Is this really elk?” he asked as he picked up the supplied fork.

            “Yes.  It’s one of the few survivors from that blunder a week ago,” Alastor explained as he placed a box full of gingerbread cookies on the counter.

            Lucifer gave a miserable frown.  He could still recall the look on Alastor’s face when he realized his meat cuts had been soiled.  All because Lucifer had carelessly tripped.

            “The meat’s near run its course and I’d rather be rid of it.”

            “Did the investment earn a profit?” Lucifer asked.

            Alastor looked taken about.  “Twice over, actually.”

            “Oh, good!”  Hopefully that meant he’d earned enough to at least cover the expenses that had been lost.

            “Please enjoy.”  Alastor ducked behind the counter and grabbed a desktop sign that announced the business would be momentarily closed and to address questions to the front of the store.  “I’ll charge you in the front.  Be sure to pick up a book along the way.  In the meantime, have a seat anywhere,” he added with a chuckle.

            Lucifer didn’t get the joke until he realized that the only two tables were still occupied.  So with discontented huff, Lucifer chose to eat at the counter.

            This place could really use an expansion to the dining area if it was this popular.

            Lucifer watched Alastor round the counter and make his way to the front of the store, all while humming a tune, and took a bite.  Holy Mother Mary!  Lucifer didn’t know if it was the rich blend of spices on the meat or the view of Alastor’s backside, but his head spun.

            When first he saw Alastor, he had been wearing a worn pea coat that hung low.  He didn’t see just how curved Alastor’s body was.  The broad shoulders leading down into a wineglass waist then a bountifully rounded derriere had Lucifer gawking.  The crisp button-up shirt clung tightly to every sharp angle and curve, and the red vest, which was snugly clasped around that thin waist, did nothing to hide the toned muscles underneath.

            Lucifer’s cheeks burned and he blamed it on the unexpected kick of the spices.

            Alastor’s… completely unassuming physique aside, the food was delicious.  Almost elegant.  Far more than he would ever expect from some hidden café in a backwater town.  This kind of cooking could take a man places.

            So why was he here…?

Chapter 4: Chapter Three

            “Come join in Hartland’s Year End Holiday Jingle Bell Jamboree and Festival of Lights!”  That was the headline written in bold, white font across the poster promoting the town’s annual holiday parade.  An image from last year’s parade occupied the majority of the poster, the view of the high school band marching in front of the favored Santa Clause float with Santa waving from his sleigh to the crowd lining the street.

            Hartland truly went all out when it came to the holidays.  The north end was especially festive every year.  The wealthier townspeople congregated in those neighborhoods and had an unofficial decorating competition every year.  Once Rosie found out, she had made the competition official, using it as a centerpoint for the town to come and feast their eyes on the gorgeous decorations and calling it a Festival of Lights.

            What had once started as a petty squabble between families with egos too large to share the same block had since evolved into a centric part of the town’s holiday celebration.  That was just part of Rosie’s charm as mayor; bringing people together.

            That also meant that each year, the celebration grew more and more grand.  The annual parade had become quite the spectacle, with floats so elaborate that businesses saved throughout the year to afford their entry.  And the children watching were showered with so much candy that it was a larger haul than their Halloween pickings.

            Even the poster itself got grander each year.  It was such a massive advertisement that it almost occupied the entire bulletin board.  Alastor shook his head, a small smile of affection on his face as he regarded the poster.

            He didn’t bother looking for witnesses first — he’d gladly explain to Rosie himself why it was necessary — before moving the poster from its centered place on the board off to the side to allow room for his own.

            His was far less of a visual onslaught.  It was merely a self-drawn pile of books — contributed by Niffty — with simple font promoting Vintage Verses’ annual book drive.  Alastor saw no point in dressing up a poster.  It was more a medium of clear information anyway.  Now, the announcement he’d be making later on the local radio station?  That’s when he’ll throw his full self into promoting his bookstore and their book drive.

            “I believe this is our best poster yet.  It truly captures the store’s energy.  Eh, Niffty?”  He looked down from his handiwork to smile at the young girl standing at his ankles.

            “I really like it, Alastor,” she said with a proud grin.  She held up the remaining posters in her hands.  “How many stops left?”

            Alastor looked Niffty over carefully.  She had been helping him put up posters all morning, her pale cheeks a little rosy as a result of being exposed to the cold winter wind.  She was bundled in a cute red coat and a stocking cap so long it nearly dragged across the ground, but he could still see her shivering.  Her little body didn’t combat the cold as well as his did, but still she was ready to labor the rest of the day.

            He made a show of looking at his watch, grunting irritably when he saw the second hand tick-tick-ticking at the six again, incapable of moving onward to the seven.  He bought another battery for it but the damned thing persisted in being dysfunctional.  Perhaps he should try a different brand?

            “I believe this will be our last stop, my dear,” he said, pushing the concern of his watch aside.

            She quirked her head and shook the pile of posters in her hand insistently.  “We have a lot left.”

            “We’ll drop those off at Rosie’s.  She always wants a pile anyway.”  He looked around the grocery store’s vestibule they occupied.  “Why don’t you try and win something from the claw machine?” he asked, trading her a few quarters for her pile of posters.  “In the meantime, I’ll return these to the van.  Afterwards, I’ll buy you a candy for all your hard work today.”

            “Okay!”

            When Alastor returned to the store, he found Niffty proudly holding a plush rat that looked like a dog had already chewed on it.

            Since they were already out, Alastor figured it might not be a bad idea to do some shopping for dinner tonight.  He let Niffty wander off to the dreaded cereal aisle as he made his way over to the produce section.

            He barely made it a few steps in when he noticed a familiar head of pale hair barely poking out above a pile of fruit.  As Alastor grew close, he saw Santa’s Wayward Elf — Lucifer, as Rosie had informed him — holding some melons in his hands, weighing the two of them with a puckered face, looking completely baffled.

            Slowly, Alastor creeped up behind him, a devious grin on his face as he slowly bent down to where his lips were a mere inch away from Lucifer’s ear.  “Seems like you’re having a bit of trouble there, hm?”

            The shrill squeal and the juggling of the melons was the highlight of Alastor’s day.  He pulled back and laughed as the short man flailed to save both melons, failing spectacularly.  So as to not waste perfectly good food, Alastor reached out a hand and grabbed one of the melons before it hit the floor.

            “How graceless of you,” Alastor commented as he set the melon down on the display.

            Lucifer glared up at him.  “I was doing fine until you decided to attack my ear,” he defended, rubbing at his ear.

            Alastor rolled his eyes.  “I would hardly consider speaking to you as an attack.”

            “Explains why you’re always an ass,” he responded with a smirk.  “You don’t know the difference between civilized discussion and verbal assault.”

            “Now, that’s hardly appropriate language for Santa’s staff, no matter which department you specialize in.  Which, based on this abysmal selection you have here, I surmise was not the kitchen,” Alastor heckled as he regarded the assortment of various fruit in the shopping basket Lucifer had hanging off his arm.

            Lucifer moved the basket from one arm to the other, away from Alastor’s eye.  “My selection is fine, you heathen.”

            “It’s all apples.”

            “What’s wrong with apples?  They’re my favorite.  And I have pears in there too,” he defended.  “And a banana.”

            Alastor snorted.  “Just one banana?”

            “A bundle of bananas,” he elaborated.

            “It’s called a bunch,” Alastor corrected.  He nodded towards the melon in his hand.  “And some melons?”

            “What is your issue with fruit?” Lucifer challenged.

            “They’re high in sugar,” Alastor lectured.  “And as you should know, overindulging in sweets is bad for you.”

            “Oh, I see.”  Lucifer smiled, looking smug.  “You don’t like sugar.  What, does it combat with your bitter soul?  That’s why you barely have sugar on your menu, isn’t it?”

            “How amusing,” Alastor said blandly.  “No, I believe in a balanced diet.  Though your choice in food may explain your short stature.  I’d suggest some vegetables high in vitamins that help with growth, but I fear it’s too late for you.”

            “I’m average height, thank you very much,” Lucifer said, puffing out his chest.  It was hilarious, really.  He looked more like a child trying to imitate a man.

            “Delusions are a sign of madness, you know,” Alastor countered.  “Speaking of, what exactly are you shopping for?  Is there any sense to this?”  He waved his head towards the basket.

            Lucifer shrugged.  “I’m just shopping.  My house is really empty from the move still and so I’m just grabbing things.  My wife used to do this type of thing, so…”

            Wife?  Alastor took a mental step back.  “I wasn’t aware you were married.”

            “Oh!  No.  Ex-wife.  It’s weird to say that still,” Lucifer muttered.

            Alastor let out a considerate hum.  There seemed to be more to this wayward elf than initially met the eye.  As had been proven a couple of times now since Alastor first met him in that antique shop a couple weeks ago.

            Alastor shifted his empty shopping basket from his hand to his elbow as he grabbed the melon from Lucifer’s hand.  “To know when a melon is ripe, you must listen to it,” he informed.  “Listen.”  He lifted the melon up and gave a few taps against its surface.  “Did you hear that?”

            “Uh…”  Lucifer lifted a brow.  “I heard tapping?”

            With an annoyed grunt, Alastor put down the melon.  Looking over the display, he bypassed the creamy colored options and went straight for a green one.  “Now listen to this,” he said, tapping the melon.

            Slowly, Lucifer’s brows furrowed.  “Sounds different.”

            “Exactly!”  He put the green one down and selected the one Alastor knew was the best of the lot.  “Now listen to this again.”

            As Alastor tapped the surface, Lucifer nodded.  “Sounds hollow.”

            “Hollow means ripe,” Alastor said with an approving nod of his own.  He offered the melon to Lucifer.

            “I see,” he said dumbly as he grabbed the offered melon and added it into his basket.

            “Now then!  Time to round out that diet.”  Alastor looped an arm around Lucifer’s and whirled him around towards the vegetable display.  “Let’s start with kale.  High in vitamins and fiber — which, based on how old you look, you could definitely use — and is versatile for any recipe!”

            Lucifer sputtered at Alastor’s side and wrenched his arm free.  However, he did not walk away.  He stood close and watched with rapt attention (and a subtle scowl) as Alastor grabbed himself some kale then added some into Lucifer’s basket.

            “Next are potatoes!  They’re long-lasting and hearty.  They’re also a high provider of potassium.  Much better than a single banana.”

            “I like my banana,” Lucifer said with a childish pout.

            “Then we’ll need an onion,” Alastor informed once he deposited some potatoes into his basket then Lucifer’s.

            Lucifer remained mostly quiet as they went from one display to the next, with only the occasional spiteful comment here or there.  Only once did he say he didn’t like something — tomatoes, of all things — so Alastor adjusted and grabbed carrots instead.

            They were in the baking aisle grabbing flour when Lucifer asked, “What is that for?”

            “This time?  It’s for roux.”

            “What’s roux?”

            Alastor stared at him for a moment, considering if he was serious.  After a moment, he deduced that the look of curiosity on Lucifer’s face was genuine.  “It’s a thickener,” he supplied.  “Roux is great for many things, like sauces, soups, stew, and, most importantly, jambalaya and gumbo,” Alastor said as he dropped the flour in Lucifer’s basket.

            “Oh,” Lucifer said, intrigued.  “What are you making with it?”

            “It’s custom to make gumbo for the winter in my household.”

            What Lucifer said next had Alastor stopping dead in his tracks.

            “I’ve never had gumbo.”

            Alastor spun on his heel to stare down at Lucifer.  “What did you say?”

            Lucifer looked up at him and gave a nervous grin.  “I’ve… never had gumbo?”

            Alastor slowly blinked, one eye then the next, as he took in those words.  He nearly dropped his basket in his shock.  “How?” he demanded to know.

            Lucifer shrugged.  “It… never came up…?”

            “You need to remedy that.”

            “I—well…”  Lucifer rubbed the back of his head.  “It’s really spicy, right?  I don’t really like spicy.”

            “You need to remedy that,” Alastor repeated.

            “Remedy my dislike for spicy food?”

            “Yes.”

            “I don’t think that’s possible,” Lucifer said with a skeptical lift of his brow.

            “Oh, it’s possible.  You merely need the proper exposure.”

            Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Alastor.  “...You want to set me on fire, don’t you?”

            “If that’s what’s necessary, then perhaps,” Alastor rebutted.

            “Just add it to your menu,” Lucifer supplied.  “I’ll try it.  If it’s, you know… not too spicy.”

            Alastor tilted his head, considering.  He had offered southern items on the menu before, but it hardly made a profit.  Most residents in town were accustomed to more white-based simplicity.  Whenever Alastor tried to implement some of his family culture, the people tended to shrink at the opportunity.

            “I’ll think about it,” Alastor responded.

            Lucifer’s face brightened.  “Really?  Can people make requests for your menu?”

            “If certain items are in demand?  Perhaps.  But the single request from someone of little consequence?  No.”

            Lucifer puffed out his cheeks indignantly.  “Rude.”

            “Alastor, Alastor!”  A familiar, childish squeak caught Alastor’s attention.  He looked over to see Niffty making her way to him down the aisle.  Or so, he assumed it was Niffty.  The high pile of cereal boxes balanced in her hands towered over her and blocked her from view.

            “Niffty!  Is that you hidden behind that, dear?”

            “Yes!”

            Alastor picked up the top couple of boxes from the pile so he could properly see her face.  “Couldn’t decide on one?” he asked.

            “They’re all too good,” she defended.

            He shrugged.  “Well, if that’s the case.”  He grabbed as many boxes as he could fit in his basket.

            “Hi,” said Lucifer, who crouched down to meet her eye level.  “Your name is Niffty, right?”

            “Hi,” she said with a cheery grin.  “I’m Niffty!”

            “I’m Lucifer,” he said with a matching grin and a friendly wave.  “Are you helping Alastor out today?”

            She nodded.  “Yes!  We’re putting up posters for the book drive.”

            He tilted his head.  “Book drive?”

            “Yes!  People donate books and we give them out for Christmas every year.”

            The ‘we’ was a bold choice of word since Niffty hadn’t been around the shop until a year ago to participate.  But Alastor chose not to correct her.  Instead, his attention was more drawn to Lucifer, who was looking back at Alastor with curiosity.

            “Won’t that counter the point of your business?” he asked.  “You’d benefit more to have people donate to the store instead of a free drive.”

            Yes, Alastor was aware of how the drive could be counterproductive to the store’s cause.  It had been a point of contention once between him and his mother when he was younger.  “People are more willing to donate to a charitable cause than to a business, for one.  For two, some people won’t read unless given the opportunity and sometimes that opportunity comes in the form of a free gift.  If they like that book, they will come to our store and buy another.”

            Lucifer slowly nodded.  “I see…”

            “Are you liking your book?” Niffty asked.

            Lucifer looked suddenly uncomfortable.  “Well, uh…”

            Alastor had wondered about that.  The day Lucifer came to his shop and bought the elk, he had also purchased some gingerbread cookies.  Alastor had closed the café after the lunch rush to tend to the front counter, so he had been the one to ring up Lucifer for his meal, the cookies, and a book that Lucifer had grabbed seemingly spontaneously off the counter.  He hadn’t even been looking when he plucked something from the display and nervously explained that he wanted to support the store.

            Alastor had been a little irked at the time, getting the impression that Santa’s Wayward Elf didn’t actually care about books or reading.  Roise had changed his mind later when he told her about it.

            “He cares about the business,” she had said.  “That’s why it didn’t matter what book he grabbed.  Who knows?  Maybe he’ll come back for another if he likes it.  That’s what the drive is all about, ain’t it?”

            Alastor hadn’t paid much attention to the book Lucifer purchased at the time.  It was Niffty who had informed him what it was later with a dangerous cackle.

            “Oh, yes,” Alastor said, “the reindeer book.”  He watched with subdued amusement as Lucifer shot to his feet.

            “It’s not like that!”

            “Whatever you say.  Come along, Niffty.  Perhaps we should buy some soap to help cleanse a filthy mind.”

            “I’m not like that!” Lucifer cried as he followed close behind.

            Alastor chuckled deep in his throat.  Not that he really minded what other people read.  He was just happy people were reading at all.  And the housewives that came to participate in the monthly book club Mimzy hosted at the store were always picking similarly themed books to read.  But it was so entertaining when the man got flustered.

            The three of them picked up a few more ingredients before making their way to the registers.  Lucifer had calmed down by then, but his awkwardness never really dulled.  His interaction with the cashier was a bumbling mess, but thankfully the young woman just shrugged it off and professionally did her job.

            It seemed that was a necessity when dealing with Lucifer.  It was like he was in a constantly frazzled state of mind, which tickled Alastor pink.

            “Good lord, it’s cold,” Lucifer said once they stepped out of the store.  He tried to rub his arms but the bags of groceries made it difficult.  “I’m surprised it hasn’t snowed yet.”

            “It doesn’t snow here,” Alastor idly said as he eyed the parking lot for moving cars.  Once it was clear, he led the way with Niffty in tow.  “It rains, it freezes, and it rains again.”

            “Wait, really?” asked Lucifer.

            “Really.  It hasn’t snowed in a century.”

            “That explains why the town’s website didn’t have any pictures in winter.  That’s depressing.  The best part of the cold weather in the winter is the snow.”

            “I’ll have to take your word on that.  I’ve never seen snow, but I’ve heard it’s a nightmare to deal with.”

            “Wait.”  Lucifer stopped in his tracks, forcing Alastor to turn around.  “You’ve never seen snow?”

            Why did he look so distressed?  “Nope!  From what I understand, I’m not missing out on anything.”

            “You’re missing out on so much!” Lucifer argued, finally moving again.  “It’s so beautiful!”

            “I doubt it.”  Alastor gave Lucifer a wicked grin.  “How do you even survive the snow?  Wouldn’t you be buried solid after just a few inches?”  At Lucifer’s visual outrage, Alastor burst into laughter.

            “I’m not that short!”

            That only caused Alastor to laugh louder.  He even heard Niffty joining in, which only caused Lucifer to blush.

            In the midst of Alastor’s barking laughter and Lucifer’s weak defenses, a voice pierced through the parking lot.

            “Alastor!  There you are.  I was wondering when I’d bump into you.”

            Alastor froze, his laugh dying on his tongue.  He slowly turned, eyes widening when he saw none other than Vincent Whittman walking towards them.  Vincent had a broad grin on his farce, his arms stretched wide as he approached them.

            “Vincent…?” Alastor asked, horrified.

            No.  No, no, no, no, no.  Vincent was never supposed to see Hartland.  To see the town’s poorly kept buildings.  To see the beaten roads and overwhelming foliage.  To see Alastor, in his homely sweater with its holes and patches.  Especially not when Vincent was impeccably dressed in another fine suit, this one a rich navy color with silver lapels and black hemwork.

            “What are you doing here?” he managed to say, forcing on a grin to seem undisturbed.

            “I decided to take a break from work,” Vincent said.  “I’m staying at the motel on the edge of town.”

            “But why here?” Alastor pressed.

            “Well, you used to say how isolated this place was and thought it would be a nice retreat from the city,” he explained.  Then, with a shy side-eye, he added, “Besides, I wanted to see you again.  You said you’d like to catch up.”

            It was at this point Lucifer sidled up against Alastor’s side.  “I recall him saying he’d ‘consider’ it,” Lucifer reminded.  “And he’s still taken, by the way.”

            Oh, right.  Lucifer had feigned to be Alastor’s boyfriend then.  It would look bad if Lucifer didn’t act as one now.

            Vincent’s smile dulled significantly as he regarded Lucifer.  “I see that.”

            When he turned back to Alastor, he was smiling again, showing off every dazzling tooth.  “I saw your advertisement in the motel lobby,” he said excitedly.  “I’d like to help with the book drive for Vintage Verses — that’s your family business, right?  I’ll have my company donate some new books.”

            Alastor felt disjointed from himself.  There was something so wrong, so unnatural for Vincent to be here, talking about his bookstore.  And now he had to act as if Lucifer was his boyfriend?  It was all uncanny and he didn’t quite know what to do or say.

            “It’s a drive for used books,” he said, falling back on familiar dialogue that he had used in years prior regarding the drive.  “The charm is giving something loved a new home.”

            “New books deserve homes too,” Vincent said, smooth in his delivery.  “Besides, used books are outdated.  No one needs to settle on some worn, beaten book anymore.  There are digital copies now.  If people are getting a physical book, they want it clean and new.”

            A blazing fire raged in Alastor’s chest.  His hand tightened into a fist around the bags he held.

            Of course he knew about the change in modern reading.  He saw the impact of digital copies and online shopping each year as less and less foot traffic roamed the bookstore’s aisles.  But just because it was outdated didn’t mean it had no value!

            He opened his mouth to say something, to snark at Vincent for his audacious statement, but Lucifer beat him to it.

            “You are aware Vintage Verses is a secondhand bookstore, right?” he said, voice tight and a fire in his eyes.  “It specializes in selling used books.”

            Vincent visibly deflated.  “I—it—what?”  Those heterochromatic eyes blew wide as he looked between Alastor and Lucifer.  “Oh.”

            Alastor was still raging, wanting to slam Vincent’s face in with his heaviest grocery bag.  “That was something you always lacked, Vincent,” Alastor said sharply.  “An appreciation for anything not shiny and new.  Really, you’re more like a featherheaded bird than a grown man.  It’s a miracle you haven’t walked into a window.”

            “Look, Al, I—”

            “Don’t,” Lucifer warned, moving himself slightly in front of Alastor when Vincent started to reach forward.

            It was at that moment when Alastor’s phone rang.  It was a jazzy tune that meant it was a saved contact calling.  “I’ll have to take this,” Alastor said to Vincent with an air of faux apology.  “It’s far more important than whatever this—” he gestured between them— “is.”

            Alastor turned from him as he pulled his phone from his pocket.  He briefly glimpsed at the contact name showing on the display screen before flipping the phone open.  “Husker,” he greeted.

            “Boss,” Husk greeted grimly on the other end.  “The oven’s acting up again.”

            Dread settled heavily in Alastor’s stomach.  “Again?”

            “Again,” Husk repeated.  “I can’t even smell gas this time.”

            Alastor fought the urge to growl out his frustrations.  That damned oven was going to be the end of him.

            Alastor turned, relieved to see that Vincent at least wasn’t lingering around anymore, but Lucifer was gazing up at him, a concerned look on his face that Alastor was not in the mood to decipher.  He chose not to look at Lucifer when he said in a measured tone, “Very well.  I’ll be right there.  I have to drop Niffty off at home first.”

            There was another trill of a ringtone — was that polka music? — coming from Lucifer’s phone this time.  Alastor was grateful that Lucifer’s attention was diverted away for the moment.

            “I want to come with, Alastor,” Niffty chirped up.

            Alastor debated it for a moment.  Niffty had already spent her entire morning with him.  Would he be crossing a line if he kept the girl from her family longer?  Well, they had his number.  If they really cared about their daughter, then they’d call and he’d address it then.

            “Alright, we’re on our way now,” he said to Husk.  He snapped his phone shut, grateful that he had something to vent his anger on, and parted from Lucifer without a word.  He didn’t want to discuss this with him.  Besides, based on the panicked look on the man’s face, Lucifer had far more important concerns regarding whatever conversation he was lost in.

            As they pulled from the parking lot, Alastor was vaguely aware that Lucifer was looking at them.  In his peripheral, it even looked as if Lucifer was waving too.  But Alastor chose to ignore it.

 

❄↜☃↝❄

 

            “Cursed, wretched thing,” Alastor cursed as he tinkered inside the oven.

            The door had been removed, allowing easy access as Alastor crouched on his knees and half-buried himself inside the thing.

            Behind him, Husk was leaning back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest and his permanent frown etched across his weathered face.  “I think it’s done for this time,” he said.

            “Absolutely not,” Alastor said, his voice echoing slightly in the enclosed space.  “Last time it was the igniter.  All I have to do is—fuck!”  Alastor wrenched his hand back from the heated metal ignitor piece, cursing again when his impulse to retreat resulted in him bashing his head against the broiling element lining the top of the oven.

            “Last time it was a defective igniter,” Husk agreed.  “Before that, the connecting wire burnt out.  Before that, it was the thermostat.  Look, boss, it’s done.  There’s no point fighting it.”

            “You turned this thing off, right?” Alastor snapped, fanning his burnt hand to try and dull the fire in his skin.

            There was a brief pause as Husk double-checked.  “Yeah.”

            Must still be cooling then, Alastor deduced, popping the tip of his burnt finger in his mouth.

            “Just get a new stove,” Husk reiterated.

            “Why get a new one when I can simply fix this one?” Alastor challenged hotly.

            Husk sighed, but Alastor didn’t care.  They couldn’t afford a new stove.  He had to exhaust almost all their savings to pay for his mother’s medical bills back when she had her fall.  Since then, their insurance premium had gone up and her medication hadn’t come cheap.  Alastor had been trying to put money back in their savings account, but new expenses chipped it away again.

            A new oven piece here.  Repairing weather damage there.  Then there’s maintenance on the van, which Alastor was still paying off.

            At least the life insurance had covered the funeral costs.  Otherwise, Alastor had no idea what he would have done.

            He was left with no choice but to somehow fix this oven.  If the oven went down, the majority of the café’s food selection would be eighty-sixed and sales would go down, which meant he wouldn’t be able to afford balancing the bookstore’s low income.

            “I will fix this.  Now, why don’t you go and be productive elsewhere?” Alastor warned.

            There was another brief pause followed by another disgruntled sigh.  Then Alastor heard the telltale sign of the swing door opening.

            Alastor’s eyes burned as he quickly calculated a new budget to try and accommodate for a new oven if he needed one.  It was possible, of course, if he managed to find somewhere to sell him a discounted one with a long payment plan with low rates and patience whenever he failed to make a payment or two.

            Fuck.

            He needed to fix this oven.

 

            Hours later, Alastor was still fighting with the stove.  He was sitting on the floor now, surrounded by various tools with the back panel of the oven pulled off to reveal all the mechanics inside.  All the wires seemed intact and fully connected.  While there was obvious wear and tear on multiple metal pieces, nothing was so damaged it shouldn’t be working.

            Alastor didn’t know what else to do.  He was defeated.  His elbows were propped on his legs, his head buried in his hands.  He ran his fingers through his hair, grasping painfully whenever his fingers snagged on a tangle.

            It wasn’t as if he knew what he was doing.  Not really.  The oven had been around since his mother bought the building.  There was no manual to use.  The model was so old that online searches came up empty.  And the closest repairman was at least an hour away.

            He was left with no choice.  He’d have to buy a new oven.

            He didn’t look up when he heard the door swing open.  Alastor gritted his teeth as he seethed, “Get out, Husker.”

            Husk had come to check in on Alastor a few times now.  The first time had been to try and convince Alastor that this wasn’t worth his time, but had quickly learned to not make any further comment.  He had been mostly quiet afterwards, only speaking again to inform Alastor that the store was closed for the night.

            If Husk was in here to try and coax Alastor out now that the store was closed or make another comment about how pointless this all was, Alastor very well may throw something this time.

            “Whoa,” came the dragged-out noise of a voice Alastor had not anticipated.  “When your man said you were feeling down, I didn’t realize that meant I’d see you down on the floor.”

            Alastor whipped his head up so fast he felt a painful twinge in his neck.  He scrambled to his feet, doing his best to come off as presentable.  “How’d you get in here?  We’re closed.”

            Lucifer was smiling at Alastor, a gentle expression on his face.  He was dressed in the same pink button-up as before but it was now paired with a matching scarf and a fleece-lined white coat.  He thumbed behind him when he gently explained, “Niffty let me in.”

            Oh, Niffty!  Alastor had completely forgotten about her.  He should get her home.  Had he not been so busy wallowing in despair, he would have done so already and spared himself the humility of being found at his literal lowest.

            “What happened here?” Lucifer asked, looking down at the mess.

            “Nothing,” Alastor responded quickly.  At Lucifer’s incredulous look, he elaborated.  “Just a malfunctioning oven.  Nothing serious.”

            “You sure about that?” Lucifer asked, pointing to his own hair.

            It took Alastor a minute to realize what he was implying.  His hands shot up and quickly attempted to fix whatever mess his hair was currently in.  “Why are you here?”

            “Well, um…”  Lucifer suddenly turned bashful, burying his hands in his pockets.  “This is embarrassing.”

            Not as embarrassing as being discovered an utter failure in the heart of his own business, Alastor mentally noted.  “Will you just spit it out?” he asked bitterly.  He kicked aside his growing mess of tools and pieces.  “I don’t have time for this.”

            “I was wondering if—you don’t have to say yes or anything—but it would really help—and I can pay you for it, of course—but it may make you uncomfortable—”

            Alastor’s impatience mounted and he snapped, “Lucifer.”

            “Will you be my boyfriend?”

            The words came out in a single, rushed breath.  Alastor raised his brow, looking at the blush on Lucifer's face, taking in the nervous energy radiating off him in waves.  Certainly, he wasn’t serious.  Not after seeing Alastor like this.

            Alastor could feel his heart banging painfully against his ribcage when he asked, “What?”

            “You know, like how I’m pretending to be your boyfriend around that V guy?  I was wondering if you could do the same for me.”

            Ah.  Lucifer wanted him to pretend.  Now, that was something Alastor could wrap his head around.

            Now he felt some footing beneath him again, Alastor decided to take the opportunity and claim the conversation.  He looked down at his nails, inwardly cringing when he saw the blisters on the tips of his fingers.  “I never asked you to act as my boyfriend,” he reminded.  “That was a role you claimed on your own accord.  Without my permission, mind you.”

            Lucifer slumped, averting his gaze.  “I thought… it was helping you.”

            I don’t need help, Alastor wanted to comment.  He could have deterred Vincent’s interests well enough all on his own.  Just like he’s able to handle everything else in his life perfectly fine.

            “What’s the occasion for this spontaneous confession?” Alastor asked, smirking when the blush on Lucifer’s face only grew.

            “I’m part of a charity group,” Lucifer explained, wringing his hands anxiously.  “And every year we hold this annual banquet to raise money for children.”

            “And it requires you to have a date…?” Alastor asked, confused.

            “Well, no, but…”  He rubbed the back of his head.  “Lilith — my ex-wife — used to attend these with me.  And ever since our divorce, people have been talking…”  His hands moved again, this time to pull at his sleeves.  “It’s expected for couples to attend these things.  And if people see me alone, then…”

            “Ah,” Alastor said, realization dawning.  “You’re wanting to preserve your reputation.  And you’d have a crowd of people pitying your sorry, single state if you went alone.”

            “Yeah, exactly,” Lucifer said, ducking his chin pathetically.

            Alastor hummed in thought.  “You want me to attend a banquet with you and lie to a crowd of strangers about us being in a relationship.”

            “I know it’s a lot!  But I can pay you for it,” Lucifer rushed to assure.  His eyes shot to the oven.  “I’ll buy you a new stove!”

            Alastor’s entire brain stuttered to a stop.  He even forgot how to breathe.  “Say that again?”

            “I’ll buy you a new stove.  Whatever model you want!  And we don’t have to, you know, kiss or anything,” he added warily.  “Just maybe hold hands?  And just say we’ve only started dating recently.  Nothing long-standing.”

            Something very akin to a bright light shining at the end of a pitch dark tunnel formed in Alastor’s mind.  And the form of that light was Lucifer Morningstar.

            Alastor refused to believe it.  This was far too good to be true.  “Would this be a one-time engagement?” he asked.

            “I think so?”

            “Would I be back home that same night?”

            “Yes, if you want!  It’s in the city so it would be a late hour to get back, but I can promise that.”

            “And I can pick any model I want?”

            “Any model.”

            Alastor felt weak, his legs shaking.  He moved to the counter, trying to act casual as he leaned against it.  This was impossible.  Maybe Alastor had been inhaling gas without realizing it and his fogged mind was coming up with delusions that would miraculously save his business.

            “How soon?” he asked.

            “The party is this weekend,” Lucifer explained.  “I know it’s short notice.  I forgot all about it until I received a call today.”

            “And the oven?”

            “At the end of the party, I’ll let you choose whichever model you want and I’ll order it right then and there.”

            Already Alastor’s mind was racing with revived vigor.  He could budget for a few days of limited business.  And he could invest in a cheap countertop burner to cook simple meals in the meantime.  There was also his oven at home, so he could just bake some goods there and bring them here  It was just a matter of how long.

“Would that include expedited shipping?” Alastor asked.

            “Oh!”  Lucifer looked at the disassembled oven and nodded.  “Yeah, sure!  Whatever you need.”

            A laugh bubbled in Alastor’s chest, starting low before erupting into rancorous cackles.  It was such a relief that he didn’t know what else to do but laugh at his circumstance.  “You must be in quite the desperate state!  Very well,” he said, shrugging with forced nonchalance.  “If you need me to help you, then I’ll offer my services in exchange for an oven.”  He pushed himself off the counter and made his way across the room, offering his hand to Lucifer.  “Let’s make it a deal.”

            Lucifer’s face brightened, looking more radiant than the stars in the night sky as he smiled up at Alastor.  Pure, unabashed joy spread across his features as he excitedly accepted Alastor’s hand and gave it a firm shake.  “It’s a deal!”

Chapter 5: Chapter Four

            “I wish you were here, Charlie,” Lucifer said into his phone as he paced the stretch of his home for the nth time.  “I would have taken you instead.”

            “I wish I was there, too,” Charlie said on the other line.  “We would have had a blast!  And I’ve always wanted to see what those dinners were like.  You’ll have to invite me next time, okay?”

            Lucifer knew she was just being considerate.  The banquet would likely fall during her school year again next year and there was no way she was going to fly back home from England just to attend some boring charity dinner.  “For sure, sweetie,” he said with a smile she couldn’t see.  “We’ll make a night of it.  I’ll take you to a show too.”

            “That sounds wonderful,” Charlie said on the other line.  “So, what’s this guy all about?  The one you invited?”

            Lucifer stopped to take a breath.  “He’s a complete asshole,” was the first thing that came to mind.  “He’s always berating me.  Calling me short, implying I’m dumb, called me incompetent—”

            “He really says all that?” came Charlie’s scared reply.

            “Okay, he might not have called me incompetent—” yet.  “But he really is an obnoxious bastard.  Thinks he’s better than everyone and mocks people.”

            “Why did you ask out someone like that?”

            “I didn’t ask him out!” Lucifer defended with a traitorous crack in his voice.  “He’s practically a stranger.”

            “Okay, then why’d you ask him to attend the dinner with you?” she rephrased.

            Lucifer paused, mulling over the question.  “I don’t know.  He’s funny, I guess.  And even when he’s an asshole, he still helps out kind of.”  His mind drifted back to the antique shop, when Alastor saved Lucifer’s head.  “And he’s a really good cook.  And he takes care of this kid who’s not even his.”

            Charlie let out a noise that Lucifer didn’t quite recognize.  “What is it?” he asked her.

            “Oh, nothing,” she said, sounding far too innocent for him to believe her.  “What does he look like?”

            Lucifer shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Average?”

            “Just average?”

            “Well…”  Lucifer pictured Alastor in his mind, immediately recalling those colorful curls that dipped gracefully over his brow, the spark in his hazel eyes, the devilish glint of his teeth whenever he smiled, the confident way he carried himself as if nothing could get him down.

            “He’s conventionally attractive,” he settled on saying.

            “Okay, Dad.”

            Why did she say it like she was a parent trying to go along with some child’s outrageous statement?

            “Look, Dad, I’m really sorry.  I know you’re nervous, but I have to go.  Don’t stress over this evening, okay?  It will be fun!  And make sure you actually eat something, okay?”

            Lucifer was really not liking this role reversal he and Charlie had fallen into over the last year.  She was his daughter, for God’s sake.  He should be the one concerned about her, not the other way around.

            “I’m fine, kiddo.  I promise.”

            “Alright.  Send me pictures!”

            “I will,” Lucifer said, forcing out a chuckle.

            When the line went dead, Lucifer was left alone with his swirling thoughts.  Past events came rushing to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of those anxious evenings when he was crowded by associates, forcing him into conversation that didn’t come easily for him.  Meanwhile, Lucifer had to smile, act normal, and try not to overthink the underhanded jabs that came with every event.

            Lucifer let out a miserable scream as he clutched his head.  Slowly, he descended down into a standing fetal position.  “What am I doing?” he asked.  “Why did I invite Alastor?  He’s going to be just as mean as everyone else there!”

            He still couldn’t comprehend what compelled him to ask Alastor of all people.  Certainly, it was circumstantial.  Alastor had just helped Lucifer with his groceries and Lucifer had helped Alastor with his ignorant ex-boyfriend when he got the call.  It made sense at the time to ask Alastor.

            But now?  Lucifer had been so nervous since he asked Alastor out—to the dinner, he internally corrected—that he’d practically been avoiding him.  Which was easy, seeing as Alastor rarely seemed to leave the café.  Unfortunately, any time Lucifer wanted to stop by and get more of that tasteless, sugar-free coffee, he saw Alastor’s van in the parking lot and was forced to find a sad alternative.

            The drip-drip-drop of rainfall swelled in the silent space, momentarily pulling Lucifer from his spiral.

            He rose from his pathetic squat and made his way over to the sliding glass doors facing the back of the property.  He watched in slight detachment as the rain showered across the property, slowly filling up the once-empty in-ground pool.

            The pool had been one of the many original additions Lucifer had made to the homestead.  While the building itself was finished with all its renovations, the property had a lot of installments that needed to be finished.  They had put a temporary hold on the development process because of the winter season.  The cold caused the ground to harden and the expected snowfall would set back any landscaping, so there was no point in continuing.

            Though, in hindsight, Lucifer probably should have expedited the pool shed and equipment.  Then he could have a proper tarp over the pool.  He idly wondered if it would have been better if it snowed, or if he should be grateful for the rain.  Would a tarp be able to hold back heavy snow?  He didn’t know.

            Oh well.  The filled pool was a problem for Future Lucifer.  Present Lucifer had far more pressing concerns, which he was swiftly reminded of when he turned his attention from beyond the glass to the reflection on its surface.

            He was still dressed in his pajamas, having wasted most of his day pacing the house, busying himself by unpacking a box or two, going to the kitchen to try and eat something, only to then drift to the bathroom when he felt nauseated by the mere thought of food, then returned to pacing the house.

            Calling Charlie had been a pleasant distraction, though he knew he had been selfish, calling her between courses like that when she’d probably be happier chatting with friends or catching up on schoolwork.  But Charlie, ever the patient and supportive girl she was, took his call and spoke with him the whole time.

            The chime of the cuckoo clock shook Lucifer to the core.  He turned to watch the small duck spring forward from its doors at the top of the clock, its little mouth opening in time with the chime.  He loved that clock.  He and Charlie had worked together on it over the summer as one last father/daughter engagement before she was off to college.  Its chiming was a comfort and made him think of his little girl.

            But this evening, each chime was like a knell, reminding him of the dreadful evening awaiting him.  Lucifer knew he couldn’t procrastinate any longer.  It was time to prepare for the evening.

           

            A couple hours later, Lucifer was in the bathroom.  He had managed an untucked undershirt and undone slacks.  He was sitting on the sink, leaning forward to get a closer look at himself in the mirror as he carefully applied some faint eyeshadow.

            To try and distract himself, he had his phone playing some showtunes as he worked.  His serenity was interrupted, however, when his playlist was interrupted by the familiar polka music of his ringtone.

            In a beat of alarm, Lucifer nearly dropped his blending brush.  With an irritated groan, he set down the makeup and reached for his phone.

            “Rude Red Guy,” said the display on his screen, and Lucifer’s heart leapt to his throat.  His fingers trembled as he accepted the call and held the phone to his ear.  “H-Hey, Alastor.  What’s up, bitch?”

            As soon as the words slipped from his mouth, Lucifer did a full-body cringe.  He slapped the phone against his brow.

            “What did you just call me?” came Alastor’s clipped reply.

            “It’s—It’s just a joke—I’m sorry.  I don’t know why I said that,” Lucifer said, speaking quickly to try and resolve this.

            Though a part of his brain hoped that perhaps he insulted Alastor enough for the man to change his mind and choose not to help Lucifer.  Then Lucifer wouldn’t have to combat the anxiety that came every time he thought of the tall freak.

            “Mm-hm,” said Alastor, sounding unamused.  “Nerves getting to you already?”

            “Maybe a little…?”

            “Well, this is proving to be a promising evening, then.  Nothing quite like being a plus-one to an event where the invited can hardly keep his head on straight.  It has me curious to know what else you may say as this evening progresses.  Will it be more obscenities, or should I expect bouts of pitiable tears?”

            Lucifer slouched against his bathroom mirror, resting his head against the reflective glass.  “Probably a little of both,” he admitted with a pout.

            There was a pause.  “I see.”  He hummed, long and low.  “Well, I won’t be seeing either if I don’t make it to the event on time.  If you don’t send me the address soon, I’ll be left no choice but to blindly drive into the city and hope that the first convention center I find will be the correct one.”

            Lucifer rolled his eyes.  “You’re so dramatic.  And do you have some war on modern technology?  Did it insult your mother or something?”

            “Excuse me?”

            “I could have texted you the address, you codger.  You didn’t have to call.”  He shook his head.  “Wait,” Lucifer said as something occurred to him.  “Are we not driving together?  I had assumed we’d go as a pair.”

            There was a pregnant pause after that and Lucifer instantly panicked.  “We don’t have to if you don’t want to!  We, uh, we can drive separately.  Meet there and all that.  Yeah, that’s fine.  I can text you—no, you called.  Uh, let me know when you have a pen and paper—”

            There was a long, heavy sigh.  “It’s almost embarrassing how unprepared you are for this.  It’s a miracle you manage to get your pants on every day.”

            Lucifer squawked.  “It’s not my fault!  You know I forgot all about this stupid party.”

            “You had that excuse three days ago.  You can hardly blame anything but yourself at this point.  It’s really pathetic, actually.”

            “Who’s more pathetic?  The fool who can’t recall a damn thing or the fool who expects the other fool to remember a single thing?”

            “Such a riveting argument!  I’ll have to mull this over on my way to your place.”

            Lucifer straightened where he sat.  “My place?”

            “Well, if you planned on us driving together, I assume that means you’re doing the driving?’

            “Oh.  Oh!  Yes, right!  Yeah, I’ll drive.”

            “Very well, then.  I’ll be on my way.  Do try to be presentable.”

            Then the line died.

            “I’m presentable,” Lucifer groused as he zipped his pants.

            “Wait, how far does Alastor live?  Oh, Father above, I’m nowhere near ready!”  Lucifer leapt to his feet and immediately went about finishing his preparations.

            Time went by rapidly after that, but Lucifer had become a master of working under pressure.  Well, actually, he was terrible at working under pressure, but he was great at getting dressed in a very short window.  He spent a great deal of his life losing track of time so he had adapted the skill to compensate for his shortcoming.

            Lucifer was a little smug as he finished up.  He was fully dressed, his makeup was done, his hair was perfect, and Alastor had yet to arrive.  Lucifer used that opportunity to look over his cologne collection, trying to find just the right one to match the evening.

            He ended up selecting one of the subtler scents.  He didn’t want to stand out in the crowd.  More than he was already doomed to, anyway.

            He was just dabbing a few droplets on his wrist when he heard the doorbell ring.  “Took you long enough,” Lucifer commented with a grin as he rubbed his wrist along his neck.

            He checked himself in the mirror one last time, running his hands down the front of his white suit to smooth out invisible wrinkles, then sauntered his way to the door.  He took one last deep breath and puffed out his chest before swinging open the door.

            “Welcome to the Morningstar Homestead,” Lucifer announced, throwing his arm out in a dramatic display.

            He was answered with a displeased hum.  “Completely reconstructing the place wasn’t enough?  You have to rename it as well?”

            Okay, Alastor was perhaps the wrong person to give that kind of introduction to his new home.  “Oh, well, no, not officially,” Lucifer mumbled, deflating from his previously brazened pose.  “It was just a joke.”

            Alastor rolled his eyes.  “Oh, do try and cheer up.  You’ve only a handful of inches on you already.  If you slouch like that, you’re bound to get stepped on.  And I can’t have my date wind up on the bottom of someone’s shoe.”

            It was a relief that Alastor was making a playful jab rather than a real one.  That meant he wasn’t as angry at the little joke as Lucifer initially feared.  Relaxing some, Lucifer was able to bypass his panic and give Alastor a proper look-over.

            Alastor was dressed in a deep maroon suit.with a velvet jacket and pinstripe pants, all brought together with a tasteful chocolate bowtie.  And was that a crown pin on his lapel?  The outfit wasn’t as form-fitting as that shirt and vest ensemble he preferred — this obviously not being tailored to his particular size — but he looked good, especially with how he leaned against the folded umbrella he held in one hand.

            “Wow, Alastor, you dress up well,” Lucifer commended, looking him up and down.  “I love your suit.  It’s so you to wear something so old-fashioned.”

            Alastor looked momentarily taken aback, looking down at himself.  “This is a perfectly adequate suit,” he defended.

            Lucifer snorted out a sudden laugh.  “It’s velvet and pinstripes,” Lucifer pointed out with a gesture to first Alastor’s jacket then his pants.  “No one wears that anymore.”

            “Oh, you’ll have to forgive me for my ‘outdated’ sense of taste,” Alastor said, voice dripping with sarcasm.  “I wasn’t aware that the modern fashion trends meant an overabundance of rhinestones.”  His lip curled in disgust as he pointedly looked over Lucifer’s suit.  “And what is that ridiculous pattern?  Did a cartographer mistake your jacket for parchment?”

            “Hah?”

            “Your jacket looks like someone took a page from an atlas, covered the grid lines with cheap sequins, and called it ‘elegantly fashionable.’  It’s pathetic, really, especially since it’s enough to fool people to spend exorbitant amounts on tasteless garbage,” Alastor said, speaking through growing chuckles.  His laughter only grew at Lucifer’s appalled reaction.  “Oh!  Don’t tell me!  Certainly, you didn’t actually spend money on that vulgar excuse for a suit.”

            Lucifer’s cheeks swelled with indignation.  He ran his hand down his suit, appreciating the texture of the pattern against his skin.  “These are glass rhinestones,” he defended.  “Though I wouldn’t expect a backwater bookkeeper to know the difference.  Where’d you get that tacky set of pajamas you’re wearing?  The antique shop I met you in?”

            “Ha!  For your information, I stripped this off a dead man,” Alastor rebutted as he casually ran his nails along the lapel.

            Lucifer paused.  “That’s not true.”

            Alastor hummed.  “Well, yes and no.  I did take this from a dead man.  But I couldn’t tell you where his body is.”

            That only confused Lucifer further.  “What?”

            Alastor sighed, long and suffering.  “This is my grandfather’s.”

            “Oh!”  Well, that was a relief at least.  “Why don’t—?  Where’s his body?”

            “I just said I don’t know.”

            “Why don’t you know?”

            Alastor shook his head, exasperated.  “He died in combat, you imbecile.  He was drafted and his body was never reclaimed.  That was common then.  Don’t they teach you kids anything in those city schools?”

            Okay, that was embarrassing.

            “Look—I—it’s—Hey!  It’s your fault!  You were being all cryptic and creepy!”

            Alastor rolled his eyes again, but there was a genuine smile on his face.  “It’s part of my charm,” he said.  “Now, if you’d be so kind as to welcome me in or lead me to your car, my toes would greatly appreciate it.  It’s cold out here, you know.”

            “Oh!  Yeah, sorry!  Yeah, let’s go.”  Lucifer took a moment to grab his coat, then hurried out.

            Alastor was swift in opening the umbrella and held it over the both of them on the way to the car as Lucifer donned on his coat.  He looked Alastor over again.  “You didn’t bring your coat?”

            Something flashed across Alastor’s face that Lucifer struggled to decipher.  Was that shame?

            “It required a trip to the tailor,” Alastor answered without meeting Lucifer’s eye.

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means it wouldn’t be ready for the party tonight.”

            Alastor sounded almost defensive, but Lucifer didn’t want to pry.  They were about to spend roughly an hour isolated in a car then spend the entire evening together.  Lucifer didn’t want to sour it before things even began.

            “Here, let me get the door for you,” Lucifer offered, starting towards the passenger seat.

            “Seeing as I’m the one with the umbrella, I believe I should have the honors,” Alastor said, placing a single hand on the curve of Lucifer’s back and guiding him towards the driver’s seat.

            Lucifer was starting to believe Alastor’s claim on it being cold was his subtle way of getting them moving along.  It wasn’t cold at all.  In fact, it was so hot that Lucifer had to pull at his shirt collar.  “Okay.”

            This was new.  Lucifer never had someone open the door for him before.  He stood there, feeling awkward and abashed as Alastor opened the door for him and carefully held the umbrella aloft to keep Lucifer safe from the falling rain.  It was… nice.  Really nice.  No wonder Lilith liked it so much.

            The nerves from earlier were playing on repeat in his stomach, making him feel nauseous and antsy as Alastor later joined him in the car, filling the space with the rich scent of coffee and cinnamon.

            “What are you wearing?” Lucifer asked as he started the car.  “It smells good.  Is that ginger?”

            “Ah, you’re likely smelling the gingerbread I made earlier.  With the oven out, I’ve had to bake them at home.  The whole house smells of it.”

            Lucifer didn’t think he’d be capable of smelling that all day and not divulging himself on a cookie or five.  He had devoured those gingerbread cookies he bought in a single day.  He had intended to buy more the next time he bought coffee, but each time he tried, he saw Alastor’s van in the lot and fled like a coward.

            “Natural Christmas smell!  That’s nice.  You could always use my oven, you know.  I’d love that smell in my house.”

            Alastor turned towards him slowly.  “Are you asking me over?”

            Not wanting to tackle the implications Alastor was hinting at, Lucifer kept his eyes fixated on the road.  “For cooking!  Just for cooking.”

            There was a tense moment of silence before Alastor let out a small chuckle.  “As if I’d give you the key to such a delectable scent for free,” he said.  “You’ll just have to buy the cookies fresh and fill your home with their aroma that way.”

            Lucifer scoffed.  “Fine!  Fine, I’ll come buy the cookies.  I’ll buy all of them.  I’ll buy so many, you can’t keep up.  Then you’ll be begging to come cook in my kitchen to make up for all the lost product.”

            “Ha!  I’d love to see the day.”

            “Just wait, beanpole.  It’s coming.”

            “Whatever you say.”

            The two fell into a peaceful silence then and Lucifer was grateful for a release in the tension.  Well, it was almost silent.  Before long, Alastor started humming.  Lucifer vaguely recognized the song, but couldn’t quite pinpoint it.  He didn’t want to ruin the mood, so he just sat there and listened contentedly.

            Lucifer expected the whole ride to continue that way, but about halfway to the city, Alastor piped up.  “I suppose, if we’re to feign a romantic relationship, we should use this opportunity to get to know one another.”

            “Oh.  Yeah.  Okay,” Lucifer said.  He briefly pulled his eyes from the road to see Alastor looking at him expectedly.  “What do you want to know?”

            Alastor’s tone was delicate when he asked, “Why did you and your wife divorce?”

            “Asking the big questions,” Lucifer commented, momentarily stunned.

            “I believe that’s something a boyfriend should know.”

            “Okay… that makes sense.”  He took a deep breath and blew it out, then took another breath.

            “Well… Lilith and I married young.  We were reckless teenagers and got pregnant in high school.  It only made sense that we married.”

            “You’re a father?” Alastor asked, surprised.

            A proud grin spread across Lucifer’s face.  “Yep!  Her name’s Charlie.  She’s attending college now, abroad.  She’s a great kid.  Smart as a whip.  And so friendly!  She makes friends everywhere she goes.”

            “Ah!  I hadn’t realized the ‘Charlie’ you spoke of was your daughter.  So she doesn’t take after you, then?”

            “No, she—Hey!”  Lucifer shot Alastor a quick glare.  “She gets her smarts from me, I’ll have you know.  Her looks are from her mom.  Her friendly nature is from her mom too.  And her ambition.  She has my rosy cheeks, though!”

            “Oh, so you did contribute something,” Alastor teased.

            “I just said she got her smarts from me!”

            “And I didn’t believe you.  If she is anywhere near as unintelligent as you, then it’s not possible she got accepted into any university.”

            Lucifer’s jaw dropped.  “Rude!”

            “Did you get into college?”

            “I—Well…”

            In the corner of his eye, he could see the devious smile on Alastor’s face.  “Well?”

            “I went straight into my practice,” Lucifer confessed.  “Followed my old man’s footsteps.  Besides, with a kid, Lilith and I couldn’t exactly find the time for more school.”

            “Fair enough.  So, what happened between you and Lilith?”

            Lucifer sighed.  “We found we weren’t compatible,” he explained.  “She’s a lovely woman.  And super sweet.  But she liked to travel.  She shined brightest when she was with a crowd.”  Lucifer smiled as he recalled those late nights, seeing her charm a crowd, win their love with barely a word.  “People were drawn to her and she loved them.”

            “Meanwhile you’re the reclusive type?” Alastor surmised.

            Lucifer frowned.  “I get anxious.  I could never quite understand a crowd like she could.”

            “Yes, I learned early on that you have a penchant for sticking your foot in your mouth.  It’s miraculous you haven’t developed a foot fungus in your gums.”

            Lucifer whipped his head around to gawk at Alastor.  “Is that even possible?”

            Alastor laughed.  “Who’s to say?”  With a small sigh, he asked, “When did it happen?”

            “What, exactly?”

            “When did you realize you didn’t love one another?”

            “I mean… I still love her.  It’s just… She deserves someone who can be her equal partner and support her in everything.  But we discussed it about a year ago.  Charlie was done with high school and was making plans to attend college.  That’s when Lilith and I realized that the only thing keeping us together anymore was Charlie.  So, I started redesigning the homestead.”

            “Why the homestead, exactly?” Alastor asked, smoothly switching the topic to something less depressing.  “Couldn’t be bothered to make something new?”

            Lucifer was grateful for the shift.  “Because it needed it,” he said with a shrug.  “It was meant to be a start-over, moving here to Heartland.  It sounded like such a nice place when my realtor told me about it.  But when I was looking for property, your homestead stood out.  I thought, you know, if I can fix it up, repurpose it, then I could improve the town.  Invite tourists and welcome revenue with a park.  Such a nice place deserved more recognition.”

            Glancing over, Lucifer found Alastor mulling over the words with a pensive look on his face.  He got the distinct fear that he perhaps treaded on something delicate and decided to change tactics.

            “How about you?” Lucifer asked.

            “I never married,” Alastor said.

            “I’m not surprised.  With your constant poor attitude, I’m amazed you haven’t driven everyone in town away.”

            Alastor snorted a laugh.  “That’s why I have to cook so well, my dear.  I’m the sole reason this town is still populated.”

            Did Alastor just say “my dear”?  While addressing Lucifer?  His face burned.

            “It’s that humble attitude that keeps your business afloat,” Lucifer commented.

            “Naturally!”

            “No, I meant, what’s your story?  I know you went to college.  That’s where you met that Victor guy, right?”

            “Vincent,” Alastor corrected.  He was silent for a moment.  “I went to school for culinary classes.”

            Lucifer perked up in his seat.  “No wonder you’re such a good cook!  When did you graduate?”

            Quietly, Alastor answered, “I didn’t finish a single semester.”

            Waggling his eyebrows, Lucifer shot Alastor a smirk.  “What?  Couldn’t handle the big-boy classes?”

            Alastor’s expression turned tight then he looked away from Lucifer, instead gazing out the passenger window.  “Ma fell.”

            Something like a hot coal dropped in the pit of Lucifer’s stomach.  “Your mom?”

            “She broke her leg, among some other things,” Alastor said, the words sounding strained.  “She couldn’t take care of herself anymore, so I came back home.”

            “And that’s where you’ve been since,” Lucifer deduced.

            Alastor nodded.  “She recovered after a few months, but the break to her leg caused some nerve damage.  Then the neuropathy flared and, well…”  He sighed.  “The good news was we already had a wheelchair.”

            Lucifer didn’t know what neuropathy was, but he didn’t feel it would be wise to ask.  He could just look it up later.

            “I haven’t met your mom.  I don’t think, anyway.”

            “I doubt it,” Alastor said.  “She passed away last winter.”

            “Oh…”  Lucifer glimpsed towards Alastor.  It was hard to tell, especially since Lucifer was only able to see a faint reflection on the window glass, but Alastor looked lost.  It was as if Lucifer was getting a hint of what Alastor was hiding inside.  Which was a lost child who didn’t know what to do without the guidance of his mother.  Lucifer’s voice was gentle when he said, “I’m sorry.”

            Alastor sighed, long and slow.  “It is what it is.  She was diabetic, so… we knew she wouldn’t live a long life.”

            Realization dawned on Lucifer then.  The aversion to sweets.  The restricted sugar on his menu items.  Lucifer thought back to when he had scrutinized Alastor’s menu and internally kicked himself.  He felt like a real asshole.

            Alastor growled suddenly.  “As much as I hate to admit it, I get the feeling she would have loved you.”

            A smile broke across Lucifer’s face.  “Really?  She’s got good tastes, then, your mom.”

            “She merely had an affinity for pathetic things.”

            “That must be why she kept you around.”

            Alastor finally spun around in his chair to shoot Lucifer a wicked grin.  “No, she kept me around because she’s a glutton for punishment.  And if ever say her name using the same attitude you persist in presenting to me, I’ll be sure this town soon forgets the name ‘Lucifer Morningstar.’”

            A chill ran down Lucifer’s spine and a fire flared in his chest.  There was something about the glint in Alastor’s eye, where the setting sun reflected off the golden flecks in his hazel eyes, and the sharp baring of teeth that had Lucifer shuddering in his seat.

            “I don’t even know her name,” Lucifer defended with a pout.  Then he said, “I promise to be nothing but a gentleman when referring to your mother.”  And he meant it.

            Alastor’s smile softened and he nodded approvingly.  “I’ll make sure of it.”

            Lucifer swallowed.  “Okay, s-so!  So!  About that Victor guy—”

            “Vincent.”

            “—What’s the deal with him?  When did you decide you didn’t love him?”

            Alastor hummed.  “I’m not sure I ever did.”

            “Oh?”

            Alastor shrugged.  “I’ve never really…”  He trailed off.

            Lucifer curiously looked over.  “Never really…?”

            “Felt that draw people seem to have,” Alastor said, waving his hand is a vague circular gesture.  “His company was fine.  He was funny.  I respected him enough.  He wanted to try something new.  I didn’t see the appeal but I didn’t oppose it either.”

            “Was it that he was a man?”

            “I couldn’t say.  I never tried it with a woman either.  It just seemed unappealing.”

            Lucifer let out a thoughtful hum.  “Huh.  You know what?  I wonder if you’re ace.”

            “I’m what?”

            Lucifer bobbed his head, trying to find the right words.  “Charlie came out a few years ago.  Since then, she’s taught me a lot about, you know, the whole LGBT thing.  And what it means to be gay and all that,” he fumbled out.  “Never put much thought into it myself.  Anyway!  There is a class of gay—”

            “‘Class of gay’?”

            “I don’t know the right word — shut up.  Anyway, there is a group of people who don’t feel attracted one way or the other, men or women or nonbinary.”

            “‘Nonbinary’?”

            “Look—”  Lucifer scratched at his head as he desperately tried to remember all the information Charlie had educated him on years ago.  He only really clung to the material that resonated to him.  “I don’t really understand it myself.  I’ll ask Charlie to send me the website later and I’ll share it with you.”

            “Sounds riveting,” Alastor commented dryly.

            “It really is, actually,” Lucifer said.  “I learned a lot about myself that I didn't know.  You might too.”

            “Mm-hm.”

            It was almost painful how much Alastor sounded like Lucifer had back then.  But if it hadn’t been for Charlie, Lucifer might never have considered men.  And he sure as hell wouldn’t have Alastor in his car right now.

            Damn, maybe he should have stayed ignorant.

 

❄↜☃↝❄

 

            “Wow, Lulu, didn’t expect you to have a catch.”

            Two minutes.  It took less than two minutes after Lucifer and Alastor made their way into the grand hall for Mammon to open his large mouth.  Lucifer took a deep breath through his nose, trying to brace himself for whatever slop was about to be dumped on his lap.

            “You’re sure slummin’ it.  Where did you find this bogan?  With buggered rags like that, you must’ve pulled him from the fifties.”

            Lucifer took another deep breath.

            He was never good with this kind of confrontation.  He already felt out of place at these kinds of things so it only took a single negative comment to have him crumbling and regretting every life choice.  But Lilith had always been there, gracefully pacifying any rabble-rouser with a stern but polite comment, masterfully toeing the line between courteousness and reprehension all with an elegant flair.

            Lilith always told him to try and pacify agitators such as Mammon, to just go with the punches and laugh it off.  It wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but Lucifer had managed it in the past.  But for Mammon to go for Alastor’s throat?  Without so much as an introduction first?  No, that was not something he was willing to tolerate.

            “You mouthy—”

            Before he could say another word, Alastor was standing in front of him and offering a hand.

            “Alastor,” he said in lieu of an introduction to Mammon.  “Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure.”  Mammon hesitated to reciprocate, but Alastor took the initiative and grabbed Mammon’s hand.  “You must be Fatman—Mammon.  My apologizes.  A little freudian slip there.  Quite embarrassing, I must say.”

            Alastor retracted his hand then proceeded to wipe it on his jacket, making a face as if he had touched something putrid.  “Please forgive me.  That audacious outfit you’re wearing distracted me.  But I can appreciate your resolve.  You must be one strong-willed fellow to wear something so outlandish.  What was that you were going for?  Piss-stained, washed-out clown?  Bold choice, but what do I know?  As you’ve so kindly pointed out with my own apparel, it’s apparent I don’t keep up with modern fashion.  So long as you’re comfortable, that’s what’s important, right?  It doesn’t matter how ridiculous you look so long as you’re confident!”

            Lucifer was completely and utterly stunned.  He brought a hand up to cover his slack-jawed mouth as his mind caught up with everything Alastor had said.  Alastor had spoken so rapidly, with the cool charm of a man completely in his element, that it took a moment for Lucifer to wrap his head around all the interlaid insults.

            The same could be said for Mammon because he just stood there, his hand still extended with his brows furrowed low over his eyes in bafflement.  “What?”

            Lucifer was choking behind his hand, tears pricking his eyes as he fought every urge to bellow laughter.

            “Sorry, my good man.  I just can’t contain myself sometimes when I’m overwhelmed with the brash and imbecilic.  It’s a fault of mine, you see.  But I’m sure a well-mannered fellow with far more dignity such as someone unlike yourself could take pity on me.  After all, to you, I’m merely some backwater simpleton.”

            Alastor’s swift tongue was merciless, but Mammon obviously struggled to keep up with it.  Behind him, however, Lucifer could see a crowd of people looking aghast by Alastor’s gallant affront to Mammon.

            “Now, if I could beg your pardon,” Alastor said, much slower now to be fully understood, then he wrapped his arm around one of Lucifers.  “Lucifer and I have a full night ahead of us and I’d rather us not waste all our time in present company.”  He turned to Lucifer as he was simultaneously steering them away from Mammon.  “Why don’t you introduce me to some friends of yours, my dear?”

            Behind him, Lucifer could hear Mammon ask someone, “What the fuck’s that about?”

            Lucifer couldn’t breathe.  “I can’t believe you said that,” Lucifer said, or he tried to.  Mostly what came out of his mouth were breathless squeaks.

            “Well, he was pleasant company,” Alastor commented with a strained smile.

            “Tell me about it,” Lucifer said once he could breathe again.  “I’ve had to deal with that low-life for years.  He’s become head of the bank that holds all my investments.”

            “Someone like that has become CEO of a bank?”

            “Nepatism will get you far,” Lucifer said.

            “And crookery,” Alastor supplied.

            He wasn’t wrong.

            “Whoa!  Lucifer!  Who’s this you have with you?”

            Shifting, Lucifer could see Bee make her way over from the dancefloor.  While Mammon’s loud, green-striped suit leaned more towards the ghastly, Bee’s blended bright yellow and pink dress was done in taste that complimented each curve.  Her long blonde hair was mussed a little from dancing, but controlled chaos has always been part of her aesthetic.

            “Hi, Bee!  Hi, Levi,” he said, once he saw who was following behind her.

            Levi was dressed in a simple two-toned purple dress, but her hair spoke volumes in its asymmetrical design.  It was always a flip of the coin whether Levi would be good company.  Unfortunately, with the tight frown on her face, Lucifer expected something less than congenial.

            A subtle but sharp jab in his ribs from Alastor’s entangled arm reminded Lucifer of his present company.  “Right!  Bee, Levi, this is Alastor.  Alastor, this is Bee.  She runs a conglomerate that specializes in honey.  You have to try her Beelzejuice.  And this is Levi.  She runs trade businesses overseas.”

            Unlike with Mammon, Alastor gave the women a charming grin and gave a small bow.  “Pleasure to meet you, ladies,” he said, all honey and sugar.

            Lucifer almost didn’t believe it.  He wasn’t aware Alastor was capable of being a gentleman.  He’d been nothing but a bastard from the moment Lucifer met him.

            “Ooh, I like this one,” Bee said, talking behind her hand to Levi without putting any effort into discretion.  “You’re a cutie,” she said to Alastor.

            Alastor preened under the praise.  “You’re too kind,” he said with a broad grin.  “But I can hardly compare to your beauty.  You ladies nearly steal all the light in the room.”

            Bee giggled.  “Ain’t you the sweet talker?”

            Beside her, Levi rolled her eyes.

            Lucifer tried not to appear miffed, but he was slightly insulted.  He practically just said these women were the most beautiful thing in the room, and he was right here!  Alastor was supposed to be playing his boyfriend.

            “Not at all,” Alastor said, waving off Bee’s comment.  “I’ve done nothing but state a fact.  Of course, nothing can compare to Starlight’s beauty.”

            Huh?

            Alastor’s arm slipped from around Lucifer’s to instead wrap around his shoulders and pull him close to Alastor’s side.  Lucifer’s cheeks blazed at the sudden close contact.

            “Not to offend, ladies, but none shine brighter than Lucifer.  Isn’t that right, my dear?”

            The last sentence came out as more of a whisper, Alastor’s warm breath ghosting over Lucifer’s ear as he leaned close.

            “C-Come on, Alastor,” Lucifer stuttered out, barely managing to remember to speak.  “We’re in public.”

            “I’m sorry, sweatheart.  You know how I can be,” Alastor said, sounding so casual that it must be true.

            Except now Lucifer was sure he knew Alastor less than ever before.

            “I just can’t help it,” Alastor went on.  “That way you ramble yourself into a corner, the easy way you blush, even your odd obsession with ducks — it’s all so endearing!  I can’t help but be drawn in.”

            Bee looked effectively won over, giving a soft smile and a silent coo.  “You two are so cute!  Luci, where did you find this hidden gem?”

            “Yes, how did you two meet?” Levi asked, a troubled expression clouding her face.

            At the moment, Lucifer was trying to figure out when Alastor had been switched with this smooth-talking imposter.  As he looked up to try and find a seam in the mask this man must certainly be wearing, Alastor cast Lucifer sidelong glance and a wink.

            How was he supposed to interpret that?

            “He stumbled into my humble store,” Alastor explained breezily.  “It was a wonder, actually.  He didn’t even know it was a bookstore.”

            Bee tilted her head curiously.  “A bookstore?”

            “A bookshop?” Levi echoed with a dubious lift of a brow.

            Lucifer nodded his head, grateful for a familiar foothold.  “Yeah.  His family runs a bookshop in town.  And it has an amazing café.  The coffee is sugar-free and disgusting, but the food is delectable!”

            Alastor scoffed.  “You say the coffee is disgusting, but you keep coming back to buy more.”

            Bee winked at them.  “I wonder why.”

            “Are you attempting a vintage fashion revival?” Levi asked, one skeptical eye looking over Alastor’s suit.  “With matching watch.”

            “It’s hardly an attempt,” Alastor said, his smile turning sharp in the corner.  “Fashion is constantly in flux.  I merely keep the best trends alive.”

            In the corner of his eye, Lucifer noticed Alastor subtly tug at his jacket sleeve, obscuring the view of the weathered watch on his wrist.  Something tugged painfully in his chest at the sight.

            “This guy’s all about vintage,” Lucifer said, donning a wide grin as he thumbed Alastor’s chest.  “It’s even in the name of his shop.  Though, I will say, it suits him well.  He brings class to an otherwise underappreciated style.  Who knows?  Maybe he’ll be the catalyst that brings it back.”

            “We can only hope,” Alastor cheerily added, his smile seeming softer than before.

            “I really like you,” said Bee as she moved in close to Alastor’s side.  She gently grabbed his arm and started coaxing him over.  “Let me take you boys to the refreshments table.  I want to see how you like Beelzejuice.”

            Lucifer could feel Alastor stiffen by the sudden contact.  Could see the way his smile strained.  But Alastor merely nodded without protest and Bee started to guide them away.  Lucifer had intended to join them, but his other arm was tugged by Levi, who made no motion to move.

            Alastor paused, glancing back at Lucifer curiously.  Lucifer waved him off.  “You guys go ahead.  I’ll be right there.”

            Alastor looked from Lucifer to Levi to Lucifer again, a question in his eyes.  At Lucifer’s urging, however, Alastor nodded and followed Bee to the bar.

            “Lucifer,” started Levi tersely, “why did you bring him here?”

            Lucifer’s brows furrowed.  “Why not?”

            She gave him a look as if he should already know the answer to that question.  Lucifer only tilted his head so she elaborated, “He obviously doesn’t belong here.”

            A dull rage rumbled in Lucifer’s ears.  “What does that mean?”

            She sighed.  “People like him—”

            “What does that mean?”

            Her lips formed a thin line.  “He’s playing you, Lucifer.”

            The rumbling grew louder.  “How so?”

            “People like him only see money.  They’re jealous of our success and try to take it for themselves.  He runs a bookshop.  You know there’s no profit in that.  He’s manipulating you for your money.”

            “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lucifer seethed.

            She rolled her eyes.  “You and Lilith only just separated.  And we all know how dependent you are on her.  You needed company and he’s obviously taking advantage of that—”

            “Shut up.”  Lucifer wrenched his arm free.  “You don’t know anything about him, so watch your mouth.  Yeah, he may be an ass sometimes, and he’s quick to point out a fault, but he’s also there to help people without asking for anything in return.  Just because we’re used to people being callous and manipulative, doesn’t mean everyone is that way.”

            Levi threw up her hands.  “Since when have you seen anyone as anything other than callous?”

            “Since I left this godforsaken city and the wretched people like you who live in it.”  He sharply pointed a finger at her.  “Don’t ever talk that way about Alastor again.”  She opened her mouth to say something, but Lucifer refused to hear it.

            He stomped away from her and made his way across the room towards the bar where Alastor was amicably talking with Bee.  There was a carefree smile on his face, which contrasted sharply with the rage roaring in Lucifer’s veins.  Lucifer couldn’t explain what exactly it was that compelled him to do what he did next.  Perhaps it was the new song playing over the speaker.  Perhaps it was because he wanted everyone to see him and Alastor on a united front.  Perhaps he just needed to release some steam.  Whatever it was, it drove him to walk up to Alastor, ignoring the current conversation, and grab his hand.

            “Dance with me,” Lucifer commanded.  There was a shocked look on Alastor’s face, but he didn’t resist as Lucifer pulled him towards the dance floor.

            Once they were on the dance floor, Lucifer stepped into the man’s position, not thinking twice about the fact that he was dancing with a man and Alastor may not know the woman’s steps.  Not that it seemed to matter.  Alastor immediately fell into the woman’s position, one hand in Lucifer’s and the other on his shoulder.

            “What’s wrong?” Alastor asked, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.

            Lucifer let out a huff and shook his head, focusing more on finding his tempo.  “Just… people.”

            Alastor hummed low.  “I’m sorry I left you,” he said as he followed Lucifer’s lead.

            “No, it was my fault.  Levi can be a real bitch half the time and I should have known better.”

            Alastor’s voice took on a dangerous note when he asked, “What did she say?”

            “Nothing important,” Lucifer answered.  “She just reminded me why I left the city in the first place.”

            “Do you want to leave?”

            God, yes.  Lucifer wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed.  But he shook his head.  “No.  I can do this.”

            There was a pause before Alastor said, “Very well.”

            It was quiet between them after that.  The boiling of Lucifer’s rage gradually died as they steadily fell into rhythm with the song.  It was clumsy at first as Lucifer adjusted for Alastor’s longer stride — or Alastor adjusting to Lucifer’s shorter one — and how Lucifer learned what signals best led Alastor into the next step of the dance.

            But over the course of a single song, the two fell into a comfortable pattern.  They were gliding across the floor as if they’d danced together for years.  Lucifer’s eyes, which had been initially fixated on the floor to ensure not to step on any toes, gradually drifted upward as he grew more comfortable.

            A shudder ran down his spine when Alastor met his gaze.  Something akin to lightning shot through him, starting at his fingertips where they made contact with Alastor’s hand and slim waist.

            Alastor’s gaze was warm.  There was no devious glint in his eye, no sharp curve in his lip, no baring of teeth in a hardened grin.  He looked soft, unguarded almost.  It wasn’t until that moment when Lucifer realized how stiff Alastor typically was around him.

            This was a completely different Alastor than Lucifer had known.  Where had this man been hiding all this time?

            Alastor tilted his head curiously.  “What is it?”

            Oh, God, Lucifer had been staring, hadn’t he?  He looked away as he scrambled for something to say.  “How did you know that about the ducks?”

            “Hm?  Oh.  I had assumed it was obvious,” Alastor responded.  “Was it some secret?”

            Lucifer blushed.  “Well, no, but… I never told you about them or anything.”

            Alastor chuckled, a short snort of a sound in the depth of his throat.  “Your phone case has a duck sticker on it,” he stated.

            “That’s hardly enough,” Lucifer countered.

            “Your wallet has a duck pattern on it,” Alastor continued.  “And there are new duck lawn ornaments at the homestead that weren’t there before.  Then there are the ducks that line your dashboard.  And I saw a vinyl on your back window of a family of ducks—”

            “Okay, okay,” Lucifer interrupted.  “It’s obvious.  I get it.”

            There was something heartwarming about Alastor being so observant, though.  Lucifer wasn’t as blatant about it now as he used to be.  He had been ridiculed enough to at least put in an effort of hiding.  And, sure, it may be obvious to Alastor, but no one else had commented on it.

            Most shocking of all was that Alastor didn’t even mock him for it.  Had even commended it, in a way.  And for someone who was so swift in deliver the first blow, it was a shock to Lucifer that he hadn’t used it as a force of attack like so many other people had done.

            Sudden, unwanted tears pricked at Lucifer’s eyes.  He swallowed a sob.

            The was a gentle tug, pulling Lucifer close to Alastor’s chest as the music slowed.  Lucifer was overcome with the smell of coffee and cinnamon and ginger.  Alastor’s smell.  It smelled so comforting.  Lucifer wanted to bottle that smell.  Wanted to fill his whole world in it.  To block out the rich colognes and the smell of pungent wines that surrounded them.

            Lucifer forced down the abrupt maelstrom of emotions raging in his chest, instead focusing on the thump-thump-thump of Alastor’s heart against his ear.  He could feel Alastor’s hand drift from Lucifer’s shoulder to the mid of his back, pulling him further into the embrace.

            It was so warm and welcoming.  “Thank you,” Lucifer mumbled.

            “Anything for you, Starlight.”

            “Wait.”  Lucifer pulled away just enough to look up into Alastor’s eyes.  “I’m Starlight?”  His cheeks blazed, the flurry of emotions nearly roaring back in full force in his chest.  “We didn’t discuss pet names…”

            Alastor smiled down at Lucifer, looking softer than ever before under the warm lights of the ballroom.  “I assumed that's what couples do.  Do you not like it?”

            Something washed over Lucifer then, making his eyes sting anew and his stomach flutter.  “I—um—I—It’s… fine.”  He looked away bashfully.  “I like it.”

            “Of course you do,” Alastor said, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest.  “I came up with it.”

            “But why ‘Starlight’?”

            “Hm.  I don’t feel like telling you.”

            Lucifer puffed out his cheeks.  “What kind of pet name is a secret?”

            “The best kind, of course,” Alastor responded with an arrogant grin.

            Lucifer rolled his eyes, acting annoyed, but his heart was rampaging in his chest.  “Fine, whatever.”

            There was another chuckle.  “Do you feel better?”

            Lucifer almost buried himself in that chest again.  “Yeah.  Thanks, Al.”

            When he looked back up, he saw the faint traces of a blush forming across those caramel cheeks.  Lucifer gaze focused in on the light dusting of pale freckles, finding them strikingly adorable.

            As Lucifer gazed up into that serene face, he felt himself drawn in.  He tightened his grip on Alastor’s waist as he slowly pushed himself to the tips of his toes.  He could feel Alastor shift, gradually leaning down as if to close the gap—

            “Thank you, everyone, for attending our annual charity banquet!” came a boisterous voice over the loudspeaker.  “We’ll be serving food soon, so please make your way to the tables.  And let’s all give a round of applause for Verosika Mayday and her beautiful performance!”

            The room around them erupted in applause.  Lucifer hadn’t even noticed that the music had stopped.

            He quickly pulled away from Alastor, who seemed to move away at just as desperate a pace.  Alastor was first to collect himself, though, and joined in the applause.  Alastor then ran a hand through his auburn curls and smiled down at Lucifer.  “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm.

            Lucifer’s heart still hammered in his chest.  His breath felt shallow.  His face burned.  His stomach was ravaged by butterflies.  How he was supposed to sit down for this dinner, he had no idea.

            After a few steadying breaths, Lucifer finally managed to smile back up at Alastor.  “We shall,” he said, accepting Alastor’s arm.