Hello! I'm A Laughing Matter, or Alm. I used to be known as little-lee-lo-simp.
I'm an adult, and while I will never post anything explicit, I will occasionally dip in to suggestive material. It will always be tagged to the best of my ability.
Requests, asks, or just chatting are open and welcome! I'm in quite a lot of fandoms, but you'll have more luck if you request something I've already made content for. Don't let that stop you from asking for whatever your heart desires though, you might get lucky!
This post will be continuously updated with new information and new works.
Master list below the cut!
Disney Fairies:
Domestic Entertainment (Lee!Bobble, Ler!Clank) ~1.8k
Mornings in Love (Lee!Clank, Ler!Bobble, brief Ler!Clank, brief Lee!Bobble) ~2.1k
The Cuties 🥺 (Lee!Clank, Ler!Bobble) ART
Hugs and Kisses (Lee!Bobble, Ler!Clank) ART
Dungeon Meshi:
"Are you ticklish?" (Lee!Chilchuck, Ler!Marcille, Ler!Laios, Ler!Senshi, and Izutsumi) ~3.8k
Hazbin Hotel:
Wired In (Lee!Alastor, Ler!Vox)
Vox's POV ~9.9k
Alastor's POV ~12.2k
Toy Pet (Lee!Alastor, Ler!Rosie) ART
Ruffling Feathers (Lee!Lucifer, Ler!Alastor) ART
Part 1
Sanders Sides:
STOP Tickling Me! (Lee!Roman, Ler!Janus) ART
Trackpad (Lee!Logan, Ler!Patton, Ler!Virgil) ART
Lee Lo Propoganda in the Big 26 (Lee!Logan, Ler!Janus, Ler!Virgil, Ler!Roman, Ler!C!Thomas, Ler!Patton, Ler!Remus) ART
Stinky Cheese (Lee!Janus, Ler!Remus) ART
I Like It When He Cries (Lee!Roman, Ler!Janus) ART
Tag Bible
#my writing - my writing
#my art - my art
#my work - both my writing and art
#preview sunday - every other sunday you get a preview of one or multiple wips. My treat
#alm chatter - any post that's just me yapping
#alm musings - headcanons/specific thoughts about characters or media. Not quite just alm chatter, but it's not really organized into headcanon lists as of right now
#reblog - reblogs
#self reblog - my greedy ass trying to boost my own posts when I want them to get more attention
Can anyone who regularly writes tkl fics maybe give any tips or tricks for writing tickle scenes? I feel like I’m not doing something right and I was wondering if anyone’s knew what to do.
Here’s a main problem I see in a lot of my writing: my buildup is fine. It definitely has room to grow because at times my prose can get clunky in one shots but the actual tickling is too short and not detailed at all. I have nooo clue what I’m doing. Pleeeeeease help I wanna write more women tickling eachother to pieces!!
ok so, this is coming from someone who's been writing t-fics over the past 6 years (which is so fucking crazy to think about so let's move on-) and this is in NO way a standard guide to writing t-fic. like all fanfiction, there are 0 rules to what you should/shouldn't do, and as long as you're having fun, that's all that matters! but if op or anyone else is curious, here are some things i came up with that might give another perspective on how to spice up your t-fic game:
read t-fics/authors you like and figure out why you like them. for me, verbal teasing was always the big thing i looked for when looking for t-fic, so of course when i started writing my own t-fic, that's what i tried to emulate in my own writing. not because i thought it was what was popular (altho i am lucky in that fics with a lot of teasing are quite popular) but bc it was earnestly the kind of thing that i would want to read. just have fun with it! (i also recommend reading t-fic for fandoms you're not in, just to get some variety/perhaps find new authors you like, but i understand not everyone wants to do this lol).
start in media res while you're writing/drafting. this is something i Need to try to do more, because i also get bogged down in my prose/exposition before i feel like i can "start" the tickling. you can go back and add plot or context or emotional resolution later (if you want to- again, only write the things you'd want to read!) but if you're in the mood for tickling, then write TICKLING, not the explanation for why your characters are in this exact scenario. let yourself do the fun part first! (also don't feel like you have to make every fic into a full narrative. if you write a 150 word tickling scene that you like but you don't know how to make it a longer fic, then just post the 150 word tickling scene by itself!)
break down your paragraphs into shorter, easier-to-read chunks. this is good writing advice in general imo, but i find it ESPECIALLY useful in making tickling actually feel like a whole scene in and of itself, not just an addition to a larger scene. it lets the tension and anticipation build up more. it also allows you to more easily insert moments of internal narration between lines of dialogue (and internal narration is where SO MUCH of the best t-fic character work happens). basically just follow the standard sort of guideline for when to change paragraphs- when a new person or topic enters the scene, when the time or place shift, when someone does an action that changes something, and whenever there's a new line of dialogue.
figure out which moments to drag out, and which to fast forward. writing t-fic can be so difficult if you try to think about it in terms of how much time the tickle scene would actually take. like think about all those fics that mention tickling someone for 30 minutes- do you know how long 30 minutes actually is? now, this is NOT to say that you shouldn't write fics where people get tickled for a long time, bc again, that's literally the fun part of it lol. but when you're writing, it's easy to keep the same pacing throughout the entire fic: "X tickled Y. Y laughed. X used this tool. Y begged. X teased them and did this. Y screamed". it makes the timeline of the whole thing just feel odd, meandering, or like it's a dead-end. just like when it comes to other types of fiction writing, try varying your sentence lengths! if there's dialogue, give us certain snapshots of dialogue between the lee/ler, and then go back to narration if you want to indicate that more time is passing. put one moment under a microscope at a time, and show the readers why THIS moment is important for you (the author) to show us.
use physical language as much as possible. not just about different ways to tickle or laugh, but how the lee and ler are FEELING about being in this tickly scenario together. maybe the lee's anticipation manifests through shimmying shoulders, legs kicking out at nothing, fingers scrabbling against the bedsheets. maybe the ler likes to swoop their head low to make the lee feel trapped, or they taunt the lee by showing how casually and easily they can drape their whole body over the lee's, or how they have to hold themselves back from pressing down too hard because they're so excited. it's not just about the actual tickling, it's about the EMOTIONS that the characters are feeling about the tickling.
but also, using a variety of terms for both tickling methods and types of laughter can help to keep your work from feeling uninspired. off the top of my head, different tickling methods can be described as: squeezing, nibbling, scratching, fluttering, mouthing, tracing, digging, plucking, trailing, drilling, squishing, skittering. different types of laughter include squeals, giggles, snorts, wheezes, screams, shrieks, gasps, trills, peals, whines, and groans. similes, metaphors, and onomatopoeia are good too ("the tingles zinged down their spine like a live wire", etc).
read fic or find art that makes you personally feel flustered. trigger your own ler/lee mood until you feel like you will melt and/or explode. then project those feelings onto your blorbos of choice. that's what i do lmao
be unique. and notice, i said "unique" NOT "original". it is virtually impossible to be "original" in the TFB- there are thousands of fics about "X character is grumpy and sarcastic so Y tickles them" (and i will read every iteration of this trope ever dkfjhdjs). don't stress yourself out about if your idea has been "done before". your UNIQUENESS is whatever draws YOU to writing t-fic in the first place. if you want to write 1000 fics about the same character discovering that they're ticklish, then do it! there will ALWAYS be an audience for it! if you write it because you think it's fun, you'd want to read it and you are passionate about it, then the reader will know, and the joy of your fic will shine through.
i apologize in advance if this is super arrogant, but i do earnestly love t-fics and it makes me happy to talk about them DJFHDSJK
Favorite spots/methods/setup/teases for both either as lees or lers or both (attempted ler on Alastor's side lmaooo)? Do they prefer chases over setup or vis versa? Restraints or no? Hands tied vs ankles tied? Etc etc give alllll the details please and thank you, I don't care how ridiculously long it gets, SEND IT!!!!! Go crazy!!!!!!! Inquiring minds want to know!!!!!
>:3
Alastor's 'favorite' spot to get Rosie is her sides, but that's just because it tends to be the easiest to grab and he gets about .2 seconds to explore before he's forcefully ripped off of her. He has yet to get anywhere else, besides attempting to reach for her feet and failing.
Her sides aren't not ticklish, but she's just not super sensitive either way and they're not her worst spot. It wouldn't matter if they were super ticklish though, because all Alastor would get is a startled yelp at most before he's swiftly taken care of.
As for Rosie oooooh how could she pick just one. If she wants these light, fluttery giggles and super cute noises, she'll get his ears and be so gentle and cuddly whether Alastor is feeling gentle or cuddly or not
She wants him to scream? Hips are the way to go, they're straight up murder at even the lightest of touches. When she holds on to them real good, he's bucking and crying and babbling out pleas for mercy.
When she just wants to rile him up for her own entertainment, his tail is perfect. It's equal parts ticklish and just plain embarrassing, and he's particularly vulnerable to any ass-up positions that put it on display, so she uses that to her advantage. He gets so flustered.
Again, Alastor doesn't have a favorite method except for try to grab at her when she least expects it and hope he hits something sensitive.
Rosie's nuanced. She can be so, so, so, gentle and affectionate and caring and that PISSES alastor off and gets to him really badly, he can not handle teasing or praise or care or attention or anything of the like, and when he's kept in light giggles it's the worst because at least when he's screaming he doesn't have to think about trying to speak or throwing out insults. She loves to get him squirming and mushy and putty with the least amount of actual tickling possible, and she's the only one in all of hell who can actually successfully tease him to a blank mind without even touching him.
When she is touching him, if she wants to keep him from just immediately cackling and screaming (because he's so unbelievably ticklish) she has to keep it super duper light. Gently drumming her fingers on his chest. Carding her fingers through her hair and only occasionally brushing by those silly spots by his ear. Just simply placing her hands on his hip bones and not moving is enough to get him bucking and giggling and squealing pathetically.
And Alastor is such a little thrasher, he physically can not restrain himself no matter how much convincing Rosie does. She can tell him stay still and I'll stop and he can't. Stay still or this gets so much worse and he can't. She could command him with the power of their soul contract and, because it's literally not a choice to squirm and wiggle and thrash, he still can't do it. Sometimes she likes to see it. No matter how hard he struggles he can't effectively get away, so she lets him at it just to tease him and make fun of him for it. But sometimes, even though he's not escaping, his arms can be really quite pesky and get in the way, so they've got to be strung up and bound. And then she'll enjoy it, still getting to feel his legs kick around desperately while his arms are stuck and she tickle tickle tickles him into oblivion. Until eventually she's had enough of that too and those legs will get restrained and every inch of mobility is slowly stripped away. @featherstreams (to no-one's surprise) summed it up really well to me the other day: It always made him more sensitive to work up to full mobility, after all.
They both enjoy the process of setting up, of Rosie slowly prepping Alastor and slowly tying him up and preparing his brain with limitless teases and coos while Alastor can do nothing to stop her. He just lets it happen because that's all he can do. And it gets him so. Flustered.
But there's something about a chase. Rosie lets him get a little head start, or lets him struggle just to watch him slowly lose the battle, because in the end he'll end up exactly where Rosie wants him anyway. Alastor finds it thrilling, to be given a challenge, to get his heartbeat up, to linger in his fear and really truly feel like pray. To be allowed to fight back, knowing he'll lose. He's a masochist like that.
Rosie is the queen of teasing. Alastor just can not handle it. Anyone else who tries to verbally tease him will just be insulted and demeaned and patronized, even if they're the one in control, tickling him. Verbal teases in general do not get to him.
But with Rosie.
She finds baby talk to be super effective. The sillier and more patronizing the better, and Alastor can only deny deny deny how cute and adowable his tickle wickle wicklish little tummy is for so long before he just has to accept it. He has no clever response when Rosie tells him how brave he's being and how well he's taking his punishment and how cooperative he's being (as if he had a choice!). How good he's being to let this all happen to him even though it clearly tickles sooooo much.
Worst of all is when Rosie points out how flustered he gets. Because he shouldn't be flustered in the first place, but when Rosie comments on how his face is soo warm and that all he can get out are squeaks and whimpers and his mind must just be empty right now because he can't seem to say a single word. Pointing out how reactive his ears and tail get and how much of a giveaway it is to him. Pointing out how he's squirming and whining and she hasn't even touched him yet. How embarrassed he obviously is. How much more embarrassed he will be.
He just fucking melts bro there's not one single thing he can do to prove her wrong or turn the tables or even just shut her up. He just has to take it and listen like a good little fawn.
And then. Just when he's feeling like he'll never be able to speak again because of the rift between his brain and his mouth, Rosie makes him speak. Commands him with their soul contract to tell her all about how it'll feel when she finally gets her hands on him. To tell her about all the tools and toys she has to play with and how much each one tickles and which part of his body each toy would be most sensitive on. Tell her how weak and flustered and embarrassing this all makes him feel. Tell her how much he wants her to just tickle him already. How much he wants to just do as he's told and take whatever she dishes out. And he doesn't have a choice but to listen as the words come out, coated in giggles and whines and stutters but they come out anyway.
Now.
What else is there to tell you? I'm still just scratching the service kdjshfkjfhksf I have what may be the world's longest fic planned (and sarted! though it won't be out for a while) for these two and it'll be a toxic qpr slowburn and take place over a century
Hazbin Hotel | Murdermedia [Human!Alastor x Human!Vincent]
Sixth Fic in this Series | Link To Series On AO3 Here
First Fic | Second Fic | Third Fic | Fourth Fic | Fifth Fic | Sixth Fic (This One)
Summary: Vincent was supposed to call and he hasn't. His parents came over and it seems like it didn't go well. Alastor wasn't worried... Totally not... Okay maybe a little. [THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]
warning for internalized homophobia and biphobia and fatphobia and sexism, mentions of murder, period-typical racism and sexism and homophobia and fatphobia, shitty dad, verbal and physical parental abuse, drunk asshole, partial nudity, bondage, i think thats it?
12K LETS GOOOO i still have so much more for this series im so hyped (i also plan to make a mini fic direct follow up to this fic which will just be a small micro chapter afterwards)
REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED (eventually) AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.
>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<
Alastor was not worried. Alastor didn’t get worried. Especially about other people.
Vincent was his associate. And a competent one.
Alastor didn’t feel concern.
He was fine.
He was just… annoyed.
Yes. Annoyed was the right word.
They'd been cohabitating more than usual and Alastor had grown rather fond of staying with Vincent at his house. One week ago, Vincent sat him down, looking concerned and uneasy, and had told him about a recent upcoming visit with his parents.
Apparently, to celebrate Vincent's 34th birthday, they were planned to come over to Vincent's house just a few days later and his dad had a problem with, as Vincent put it, 'darker-skinned folk'.
An old racist white man. Nothing Alastor hadn't seen before.
Vincent looked visibly uncomfortable discussing his dad. Alastor had bluntly pointed out that he looked like he didn't even want to see him, so why even allow him into his house?
His mother. Vincent still wanted to see his mom, and you didn't get one without the other, apparently.
Alastor supposed then he could understand tolerating the visit.
"It's just plain not safe for you to be around him. He can get... aggressive." Vincent had looked so tense... so nervous saying that. "It'll be fine. My folks will be here for a few days. I'll call you Saturday afternoon, a week from today. Their plan is to leave around midday on my actual birthday. So once they're gone, I'll let you know when you can come back over."
It was now 7pm that Saturday, Vincent's birthday. The Saturday he was supposed to call in the afternoon.
He had first felt that inkling of nervousness, ah, annoyance, at exactly 5pm. It was no longer afternoon in Alastor's eyes, moving towards the evening, and he hadn't called.
He decided to give it time. He trusted Vincent. He was capable and strong.
It had now been 2 hours since 'giving him time'. 2 hours was enough time to at least call his landline.
Alastor bounced his leg as he sat in his armchair. He stared down at the key in his hands, the spare key to Vincent's house.
Lord, he couldn't take this anymore. He had to be there. He had to know what was going on.
...
Alastor made it through the bayou in record time, slinking onto Vincent's back porch as the sun was just sinking beneath the horizon.
All the lights in the house were off. Alastor crept to the side of the house to eye his driveway. Vincent's car was still there and there were no other vehicles.
But there were black tire tracks leading from the driveway, across the front lawn, and past his mailbox, now broken on the pavement.
Alastor readied his pocket knife and returned to the back porch. He stuck his key in the lock, carefully turning it and opening the door.
It was dark inside. He couldn't make out any significant details of the rooms. His breathing and footsteps were silent. He didn't turn on a light yet, still unsure of any hidden occupants in the house.
He slowly did his reconnaissance of every room, checking for people or clues as to what happened. He found a broken lamp, two smashed bottles of alcohol, one of which was empty due to the lack of a puddle, and a collection of smoked and smothered cigars, which was notable as Vincent had a distaste for them. He ended his investigation at Vincent's master bedroom.
There was the faintest of lights creeping under the door and if Alastor listened closely he could hear unusual breathing.
Huffing, choked up, as if someone had been crying for a long time.
Certain there was no one in the house aside from the singular man inside, Alastor made his voice known.
"Vincent?"
A sharp intake of breath followed by a quiet pause.
"You shouldn't be here." His voice was raw.
"Well I am. I've been waiting on your call. I thought you might've been in a bit of trouble."
Another long quiet. Alastor gave him time.
"It's not safe. He could come back."
"It is safe." Alastor assured him eagerly. "I've checked thoroughly. If anything new happens I'm sure I can handle it like we've... handled plenty of people before."
Alastor sighed, hand resting on the doorknob.
"I know you have a gun in there. I'll lock the door. We will be safe. We are safe." He spoke seriously before chuckling lightly. "And what was it you said to me once? 'My home is your home' or something to that effect?"
"You can't kill him." Vincent spoke flatly but with noticeable conviction. "My mom would probably find out. Plus some of the family knows about the visit too. If he were to show up dead, we'd be immediate suspects."
"A task for another day then," Alastor spoke with a lighthearted and mischievous tone. "Under more... discreet circumstances."
A long sigh. "Okay. Okay, you win. But please, if he comes back, listen to me and stay quiet, okay?"
Alastor smirked once Vincent finally acquiesced.
"I can be deadly quiet when I want to be, as you well know." He spoke in a purr.
He heard footsteps. They weren't the confident loud gait he heard regularly, no, this was a nervous shuffling towards the door.
It clicked open and Alastor stepped inside to see Vincent already with his back turned walking back to his bed and laying down in a partial fetal position with the blanket tossed over him, hiding his face and body.
He carefully entered the room with no sudden movements and locked the door behind him. The bedside lamp was on and the lockbox Vincent kept his gun in was out of its hiding place from beneath the bed and sitting unlocked on his dresser.
"I was expecting a call hours ago and didn't hear from you. I even called you and there was no answer. You must forgive a man for being concerned about his partner in dangerous and less than legal business."
"I was just waiting to be sure it was safe." His voice was muffled beneath his comforter. Alastor was not an idiot, he had a vague idea of the severity of the situation, but seeing Vincent huddled under the covers as nothing more than a lump made him smile a bit wider than he really should.
Alastor wasn't exactly the comforting type, but he had his ways to lighten a delicate situation.
"We're hiding under blankets, now are we? Is that anyway to address your business partner?" His voice was teasing but noticeably gentler than usual. He easily scanned the comforter folds and figured out his positioning.
So he aimed a poke right at his upper ribs through the blanket. It wasn't truly to start something, not yet anyway, but just to demand some attention. The man squeaked and shifted but nothing more.
"Tell me what's going on. Not only will it probably help you feel better, or so I've been told, but it'll help us get to planning how we'll solve this. I'm thinking... feed him to the gators? Not my usual style but near impossible to trace."
Alastor wasn't really good at feelings but the least he could do was try. Besides, he did want to know what had happened and he did want to solve this issue.
He heard a shaky breath from beneath the comforter.
"My dad's always had a problem with drinking. He kind of went off the deep end and started... saying shit. About me."
Alastor couldn't keep the edge from his voice as he responded. "And what kind of 'shit' was he saying?"
"It's," he sighed, "it's nothing, Al."
“It’s clearly not nothing if it’s put you in such a state.” His tone sharpened to a razor's edge in an instant. “And I doubt anything out of that drunkards mouth has any meaningful truth to it at all.”
His tone resumed its quiet but flippant tone.
“Tell me whatever bullshit he was spewing and we’ll debunk it all, I can assure you.”
Vincent snorted dismissively. "Should we start with what he's said from birth or just today?" He shifted again with a groan. "Sorry. We... We don't have to, Al. I'll be fine tomorrow. Really."
Alastor breezed past the dismissal with ease. He was not the type to give up so soon. “Let’s start with what’s got you hiding under your comforter. And apologies dear, this isn’t optional.”
Something deep and… annoying within Alastor despised seeing Vincent like this. And it wasn’t irritation or animosity.
It was something much fonder than that.
So why didn’t he just leave?
…because he was going to get Vincent closer to his usual self if it killed him, dammit. He was not meant to be so… sad and slothful. That man was built to be an excited and ambitious entertainer.
Vincent was… a firework. A light reaching for the heavens. Loud, demanding of your attention, and bright.
This. This was not Vincent. And Alastor despised it.
Alastor let the subtle sounds of rustling fabric and heavy breathing go on, waiting for Vincent to contribute.
"Well, the first and most obvious thing, my eyes. I know they're awful, it's nothing new. It's why my producers say to be grateful that media's all in black and white, so no one at home knows. But it's fine. I've accepted it."
Alastor couldn't help his massive eye roll and audible scoff.
“The fact that he had anything negative to say about what is arguably your most captivating physical feature is laughable.”
Truly. What a daft thing to criticize. His eye colors were incredibly unique and absolutely stunning. It was probably his favorite feature of Vincent’s appearance.
Alastor threw one leg over the other as he sat, set to pick apart every ridiculous judgement Vincent quoted.
“So we’ve established that’s nonsensical. What other inane criticisms came from that moron’s mouth?”
Vincent stilled and from the sound of it he choked on his own spit a bit. Suddenly the lump began thrashing as Vincent scrambled from beneath the covers. As soon as his head popped out, he looked with wide eyes and light pink blush. "You think they're my most captivating feature?" He voice was high and cracked at the end, breaking into an adorable little squeak that was quite familiar to Alastor at this point.
Now, in the light, Alastor saw something. Little dots across his face, freckles. His pale complexion made them quite noticeable, even with its current pink tint. How had Alastor never seen them before? They were quite charming, Alastor noted with a soft smile.
Vincent's hair was missing its usual gel or product, now messy and drifting into his freckle-covered face. The low light caught his mismatched eyes rather intriguingly.
He looked... incredible.
"Yes, of course, Vincent. They're incredibly unique and near impossible to look away from at times." He cocked his head to the side. "The freckles are new, though, at least to my eyes. Have you been hiding them with makeup? Is that what you had the brush for?"
Vincent winced and looked back towards the covers with his shoulders up.
"Ah-ah! No hiding under the blankets. Talk. You have a talent for it, so use it."
There was that bashful little smile of his. Vincent was a confident man, more of an egoist at times, and he had no trouble eating up praise and compliments from everyone around him, except for Alastor. Most of the time when Alastor paid him a compliment the man got flushed and shy as if he'd never heard a nice word about him.
The smile disappeared as he spoke, "He also hates the freckles. Always had. Said they looked girly even when I was a kid. I've... been wearing makeup to hide them. He found my foundation and started... yelling and shit about, well, being feminine and girly and... stuff. But like, how did he think they went away!?"
"You're just pointed it out yourself, that man is an idiot. Also, makeup was has been worn by men for centuries. It sounds like your father needs a history lesson. In some cultures it was a symbol of masculinity. Kings used to wear it for Heaven’s sake! And belittling you for your skin… where have I heard that before?"
What he was implying wasn't really the same. The man's hatred for black people didn't compare to his thing against freckles, but it had enough similarities to point out for this conversation, the point being that hating something a person can't control about their physical appearance was asinine.
His eyes scanned the new details of Vincent's face. Fascinating. He could probably count every freckle and be entertained for hours.
Vincent probably blush just brighter if he did. He could imagine him squirming and smiling under the attention...
A game for another day.
Vincent swallowed and scratched at his neck. "I... guess you've got a point."
"Of course I do," Alastor answered without question, earning a fond smile from the man sitting across from him.
"He, uh... he also gave me shit about..." Vincent cringed. "my laugh. I do my best not to let the real one show, especially around him. I had a drink or two. My mom, she's where I got my entertainer side from. She's an absolute hoot. She told a funny story, I laughed and squeaked real loud, and... yeah."
Alastor was going to murder that man...
"If you think having a squeaky soft voice makes you deserving of cruel behavior you must have the smallest ego imaginable."
Alastor's smile was lopsided, deciding to point something out he wasn't sure Vincent noticed.
"Have you ever pieced together why I often laugh when doing this to you?" Alastor lightly wiggled a finger at the rib below Vincent's pit before pulling back, forcefully drawing out a loud and high-pitched squeal. "Because your laugh is infectious, my dear. It's unique and contagious. If your father wishes that to be different he truly is a joyless man."
He raised an eyebrow with a cocky grin.
"You have to realize that if your squeaks or laugh were repulsive I wouldn't be purposefully bringing them out so often. I have no patience for noise I don't care for."
He tilted his head with a smile.
"And darling, we're performers. Every crowd has it hecklers. No matter if they're a stranger, or someone entirely too familiar. That doesn't mean we listen to their pathetic drivel. Why, just the other day someone wrote into my radio show saying I sounded too full of myself. And do you think I paid them any mind? How I sound is something I won't take criticism for, because it's part of who I am."
Vincent's smile was growing wide, brighter, more genuine.
Good. Alastor had never stroked someone's ego so much in one sitting other than his own. This better work or he may never pay a compliment to anyone ever again.
Vincent brought his knees to his chest and buried his chin in them while one hand picked at a loose thread on the comforter.
"But, you, uh... you know what people assume when a man seems, well... a little light in the loafers, right?" He nearly whispered the phrase as if it were cursed.
Alastor furrowed his brow, trying to place where he'd heard that before.
“Oh!" Alastor said loudly once it finally hit him. "You mean they assume we’re homosexual.” He said it as if he were remembering what day it was or reminded what shoes to wear. Completely unimportant and casual.
Vincent visibly winced away.
What a ridiculous thing to be concerned over.
“I’ve gotten that one before on my radio show as well." Alastor rattled off while he quickly fixed a wrinkle in his sleeve. "Apparently a well spoken man who can sing can’t be anything but. Such absurd correlations in people’s minds.” He laughed loudly because it was absurd!
He shook his head but snapped his fingers when he remembered something. “One of Mimzy’s friends is one and he’s an absolute delight. He plays the trumpet for jazz nights at one of the black and tan joints I frequent.”
Vincent looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.
Alastor raised and eyebrow. "What? Do you have a problem with homosexual men?"
Vincent threw his hands up and sputtered. "No, not at all! Th-they seem like fine people and all!" He quickly hugged his knees and made intense eye contact with his bed. "It's just... you know how most people see them. And, it's not like I've never had a thing for dames before! I've dated a couple. We were happy, courted, fooled around and all that, so I... logically I can't. I can't be. D-Don't know why my dad thinks that."
Alastor's jaw clenched. The idea of Vincent macking on some broad... it made something nasty burn inside.
"Why would we give a shit about how most people see anything? Last I checked most people also hate serial killers and, in case you forgot, that's what we are. Also, if 'God' made two sexes, then why the Hell would he be upset if a person was able to enjoy both? AND if that 'God' is upset, why should we care, Vincent? Where we're going after death is as far as 'God' as you can get." Alastor had begun angrily rambling towards the end. Vincent sat back with wide eyes. He didn't look frightened, more like he was trying to process.
"...Having feelings for both sexes is a thing people can do?"
Of course that's what he took away from it.
"I don't see why not. Feelings never do follow the rules, do they?"
Another silence fell over the room and Alastor watched as Vincent muddled over his words as if he were disentangling some deeply held beliefs of his.
"I guess it doesn't really matter. No one would really like the true me enough to have a steady relationship with me. I'm... I'm fine with that."
He sounded anything but fine with it.
"You shouldn't generalize and say 'no one' wouldn't like you. I've enjoyed having you around enough to have a steady relationship with you, haven't I? Though as to the specific nature of our relationship... I don't believe any one word could sum it up."
Alastor chuckled and looked up towards the ceiling.
"What word could possibly describe us? Our murders, our form of play..." Alastor wiggled his fingers. "Having extended periods of living at your house together more often than living alone as we do on paper. And now here I am coaching you down after a particularly nasty family visit. That doesn't sound like typical coworkers does it? Or even friends, if I'm being honest. I don't think there's anyone like us, dear."
His smile was wide and genuine. "As unique as your eyes. Imagine a world so drab that anything abnormal was to be avoided... Not one I'd care to exist in, I can assure you."
Vincent's mouth hung in a slight 'o' shape as his face steadily warmed to a vibrant pink. Even his ears were touched by that obvious warmth. Precious.
"I... I also like having you around." He stammered rather bashfully.
That was rather obvious but not unpleasant to hear.
"Anything else we need to touch on, Vincent?"
He looked to be thinking for a moment before cringing and hugging his middle. He hesitated, but Alastor beat him to any excuse.
"Now I know there's something. Spill. Let's nip it in the bud."
Vincent sighed, hugging himself tighter. "My dad pointed out how I... I let myself go."
Alastor furrowed his eyebrows. What was he talking about?
"Let yourself go?" He asked confusedly.
Vincent's face curled tighter into a grimace. "Come on, Al, my weight. Talked about how its obvious I'm letting myself get fat. Disgusting."
Alastor's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
Vincent jolted with wide eyes.
"Vincent, in no world are you fat and even if you were that's an absolutely ridiculous thing to criticize."
"I-I've definitely gotten fat, Al."
Alastor shoved a finger in Vincent's face. "No. I'm going to stop you. You've spent years feeding yourself very little and regularly pushing your body to its limits so you had large defined muscles but dangerously low body fat. The past couple of months you've been eating real hearty meals. So your body is packing on fat while also building your musculature at an accelerated rate. Yes, you've gained weight. Yes, some of that weight is fat. But you are not fat. You're broad. Your arms, thighs, and chest are thick with heavy muscle and a small layer of bodyfat. Your gut," Alastor poked his finger into Vincent's slightly softer stomach, "still has those same abs as before, likely even larger than they were, but you can't see them anymore because you have actual healthy padding there you didn't have previously. It's healthy. It's normal."
Vincent's expression was awash in awe and flattery and soaked in disbelief. "You... you don't think I'm fat... or gross?"
"Have I ever given you any impression that I did?" He spoke loudly as if he were personally offended. "You're more capable than ever, able to run much longer without getting winded and perform even larger feats of strength. You are a wall of muscle with some soft HEALTHY padding. I don't think there's such a thing as a more attractive figure." As soon as the words left Alastor's mouth he flushed a burning red and sputtered to cover himself. "B-by most people standards! Hollywood loves muscular bodies, and... now you look well-nourished and cared for rather than sustaining yourself by sheer will alone."
Vincent's face was a red equal to Alastor's own. There was an uncomfortable silence before Alastor cleared his throat. "So, yes, ignore what your father said. Your... figure is fine. If you're worried about your clothes fitting improperly or showing off your gut more prominently you simply need a good tailor. One of Mimzy's friends is a natural with a sewing needle and can make any of your suits fit your new look."
Vincent laughed a little awkwardly but relaxed his body from its tense self-hug. "Um... thanks, Al. I really appreciate all this." He shrugged. "Sorry if I, uh, kept you away from anything with my... breakdown."
His blush was much more vibrant without his makeup to hide it. Mixed with his freckles... it was not a bad sight. Not at all.
Alastor stared at Vincent's flushed complexion with a soft smile. He should leave the makeup off more often. His eyes observed every detail, making note of every little cluster of freckles, and how they framed his features.
Pink surrounding the blue and green irises... A veritable rainbow of Vincent.
"You'll just have to make up for it later. Not giving me a call back? Unforgivable." Alastor's smile was teasing and lopsided, a clear indication of play. "I'm thinking... a minute at your underarms to start with. And you'll have to keep count of the seconds for me. I know you love helping out with that. You can count backwards from 60 can't you?"
Alastor chuckled at the immediate shift in demeanor from Vincent. A nervous giddy smile plastered itself across his face and he ducked down as he backed up against the headboard. "W-Wahahait! Ahal! I-It's been a long day! I don't know if I can handle that! 60 seconds that I have to count? You're gonna kill meeehehehe!"
This was much more welcome, oh Alastor was definitely going down this route.
"Then how about this. I'll make you laugh now, here. And I'll make you laugh at my house tomorrow. Your amount of required seconds is 60. You may choose however many of them to do today right now, BUT the remaining total of seconds will be fulfilled tomorrow, doubled."
He loomed over Vincent, fingers twitching eagerly.
"Meaning you could, if you want, only do 10 seconds tonight. But that would leave 50 left. And it would be doubled for tomorrow. So 100 seconds. Or, be brave, and do more tonight so you have less to deal with tomorrow. It's your choice."
Vincent clenched his arms close to his sides to cover his pits. "C-Come on. You know I couldn't have called you right? The phone was in the other room! A-And I was so good, I told you, uh, most of my insecurities in our weird little therapy session. Surely you can spare me a little? Th-thihis ihis cruel and unusual!"
Oh he was enjoying that unrestricted blush of Vincent's. His gaze tightened on it. He needed to see this again. Maybe he could get Vincent to only wear makeup when he left the house... so that he alone go to see this entrancing sight.
"I applaud you for your bravery telling me these things. But you did just point out there were some things you didn't tell me. 'Most insecurities'? For not letting me in on everything, this is your punishment. And, darling, cruel would be tying you up and clawing at your pits while I listen to a radio show for half an hour. One to two minutes is quite merciful in comparison don't you think?"
He let his fingers slowly crawl up the blankets toward Vincent's ribs to just baaaarely poke at the hyper-sensitive nerves.
"Make your choice or I'll make it for you. I could be so gentle and nice and make you only endure 1 second... though that would be leaving you nearly two minutes straight tomorrow. I'm giving you a chance to change that."
He was squirming and beaming, obviously fighting back a giggle fit. "I-I don't know how much I can take. M-Maybe I just count until I can't anymore. And the remainder is doubled for tomorrow?"
Al retrieved his hands and tapped his chin in a display of thoughtfulness.
“Hm… I suppose I could grant you that privilege. But you get no restraints. And the moment your arms come down, that’s it. You’ve locked in your time. Doesn’t matter if you only last a few seconds. Do you understand?”
He grinned and his eyes narrowed.
“Now arms up.”
A stern command with no room for debate. His stare enforced it without question.
Vincent obeyed the command without a moment's hesitation, arms shooting up and banging against the headboard. Alastor sat himself beside Vincent, toeing off his shoes before putting his legs on the bed (he had standards). He sat on his knees next to Vincent's ribcage with full access to all his spots.
Vincent playfully scoffed whilst wriggling slightly with nerves. "Thought I was supposed to get nice presents on my birthday."
Ah, yes. Vincent's 34th birthday was today. That had been one of the reasons that added to his concern. Alastor himself didn't really care for birthdays, but Vincent did. So for him to not even talk to Alastor or suggest something to do to celebrate was strange.
"Would 34 minutes of me playing with your sides be a sufficiently nice present? To celebrate another year and all that? I could put on one of my favorite radio shows and listen while I do that. Who knows? Maybe your squeaks will enhance the listening experience."
Even if Alastor didn't give a damn about birthdays, he supposed he could entertain Vincent's to keep him in good spirits. Perhaps the idea of a yearly event to look forward to wasn't that silly.
One of his favorite stations usually broadcasted mystery story narration at this time. The combination of that with Vincent's tittering sounded delightfully pleasant.
Vincent's eyebrows shot up. Alastor couldn't blame him. It was an unusually kind and gentle suggestion from him.
"O-Oh! Um... that'd be nice." He smiled bashfully while he spoke with a delightful pink flush. "You sure?"
"Well... let's see how you do with our little challenge."
Alastor had already decided he'd do it, but that vague statement would push Vincent even further to endure as much as he could.
Alastor began unbuttoning Vincent's shirt and opened it up wide to reveal his bare underarms. He positioned his wiggling claws at the hollows, making Vincent wriggle and grin nervously.
"Now start counting. The moment you say 'one', it will begin. Best prepare yourself my dear..."
The paler man lightly kicked his feet and winced away, his arms jerking down partially as he giggled nervously. "St-stop wihigglling them ihit makes it harder to start!"
His fingers were just hovering right above the skin, twitching and wriggling so close Alastor was sure he could feel it as a phantom touch.
"Go on, dear. Nothing's stopping you."
Vincent squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. "O-One-"
The very instant the word escaped Vincent's mouth, Al's index fingers were poking and jabbing at his armpits like he was typing on a busted type writer.
"EEEEK!" Vincent squealed and threw his head back as he howled with laughter. "T-TWOHOHO! AHA! TH-THREEHEHEHEHEEEE- OHO GOHOD! FOHOHOUR!" He thrashed side to side and his arms shook with the immense effort it took to keep them up.
"There you go. Do keep up a steady pace. If you try and speed through it, I'll make you start over. Proper seconds." Alastor's voice was a gentle coo laced with amusement. They both needed a little frivolity after today.
It had been less than a week since he'd heard it, but it was still too long. That laugh of his never failed to fill Alastor with that warm tingly feeling of contagious mirth. He could already feel giggles bubbling up in his belly at the mere sound of Vincent's squeaky laughter.
"Keep going! You're a sixth of the way there. If you manage to make it to thirty that would be impressive, Hm... but you are far too sensitive... I doubt you could."
It was an obvious bait, but he knew it would get under Vincent's skin. Whether he did it or not, his reaction would be worth the taunt.
His voice dropped to a purr. "Aw, is it too much? Are you laughing too hard to think?" He jabbed his thumbs into the hollows and firmly massaged the muscle as he had learned drove Vincent up the wall.
"One quarter of the way there. Ooh, still so much to go!" Alastor couldn't keep the giggles from his voice anymore. The hilarious melody of Vincent's laughter coupled with his adorable squirming and kicking and wriggling was just too amusing to smother the laughter brewing inside.
Alastor eyed the bit of muscle between the chest and the armpit, the pectoralis minor was the name if he remembered correctly. He gripped it with his index finger and thumb, and squeezed.
"AIEIEEE- STAHAHAHAP!" Vincent pretty much screamed in laughter and his arms slammed down. He curled up as much as he could as helpless cackling poured out of him with eyes screwed shut.
Alastor let out a light chuckle and completely stilled his hands. "I think we found a more precise weak spot of yours. That was quite the reaction!"
"Thahahahat tihihickled sohoho bahahahad." He whined through giggles.
"You made that quite clear." Alastor stood up and fetched the radio from the other room, placing it on the dresser and turning it on to that mystery narration station at a quiet volume. He then climbed back onto the bed and laid down.
"Alright. Lay down so I can get your sides."
He blinked owlishly. "W-What?"
"I did say I'd play with your preferred spot for 34 minutes for your birthday, did I not?"
"But I didn't make it to thirty. You said-"
"All I said was 'let's see'. I did not state that your performance would affect your birthday present. Now. Lay beside me. The next story is starting."
Alastor smirked. His wording did exactly what he intended it to. Vincent was too easy.
Heavens, he looked so red. It was unfairly captivating. Alastor didn't think he could look away if he wanted.
"Now come here. If you wait any longer I may change my miiiind~" Alastor sang the last word with a cocky grin, his fingers wiggling the slightest bit.
Vincent beamed and laid beside him, their bodies lightly squished together.
"Now for tonight's story, Mayhem at the Manor!"
The radio spoke softly of the new story. The dramatic background music was soon joined by delightfully adorable giggling as Alastor gently danced his fingers up and down Vincent's bare sides, his shirt still unbuttoned and opened.
Alastor was smiling ear-to-ear, feeling Vincent's torso jerk and quiver under his touch, but not make any move to escape the ticklish sensations. Why would he? He's said it himself. It was his favorite spot to be tickled.
Alastor's mind drifted from the story to the tickling, back and forth. The narrative followed a basic murder mystery formula of a victim at a dinner party full of strangers and an investigator figuring out the culprit. A predictable formula, but an entertaining one. The narrator was a skilled storyteller and the music and sound effects were well-done as well.
He turned his head to watch Vincent. He looked so utterly happy. His smile was massive and bright as a star, his eyes crinkled and half-closed, and hair messily clinging to his forehead. His freckles were seemingly more vibrant upon flushed-pink skin, and just the smallest hint of his blue and green irises could be seen.
There was no other word for it. Vincent was just plain adorable.
Some time passed. The manor mystery story began wrapping up, the story clearly reaching the climactic reveal scene before going to commercial.
As some advertisement rattled on about instant coffee, Alastor looked down at the giggling happy man beside him.
"Vincent..." He purred. "You mentioned that you left some things out earlier. Some insecurities. I think you should share those with me. And maybe if you do, I'll consider whittling down the 80 seconds punishment still waiting for you tomorrow."
He lifted a hand to brush aside some of the hair over Vincent's face.
"You know how I don't like being left out of the loop."
Vincent peeked his eyes open at him, still giggling happily and dazedly. He didn't look fully there, more like he was floating in his little happy place and just checking in on reality.
"Mmmm Fihine. Buhut yohou cant hate me 'cause you asked."
"Unless your insecurity is that you gave evidence of our crimes to the police I doubt anything you have to tell me would sway me much. I'm not easily convinced to let someone be this close. And I'm much more hesitant to let them leave." Alastor wiggled a finger at his pit at the last word and snickered at the resulting squeal before resuming the gentle side tickles.
The commercial break was still playing, now going on about cigarettes. Despite them being the norm, Alastor had never developed much of a taste for them, only using them once or twice when he really needed to take the edge off.
Honestly did Vincent really take him for someone so wishy-washy in their relationships? It would take a lot for Alastor to abandon him at this point.
And not JUST because he knew about his illegal activities, though that certainly was a factor.
"My dad was right about one thing," Vincent began. "I have carried a torch for fellas in the past. For dames as well, but that's not the point."
Alastor had a feeling that was true after their little chat. He seemed to be very personally moved by Alastor assuring him being attracted to both men and women was not impossible.
Alastor lightly circled his sides, eliciting more squeaky laughter. Vincent looked like he was hesitating to finish his thought, maybe if he went deeper into his happy place he'd lose his hesitation.
Alastor's eyes widened and his face warmed. Sure, he had a passing suspicion or two but it had just seemed so unlikely.
He stilled his fingers but Vincent kept going. Now that he had ripped off the bandage he seemed ready to air it all out.
"You have a stupidly pretty face. Unfairly pretty. Your smile, your laugh, everything about you." He not-so-subtly hid his face in his hands. "Puppy love and shit. I want to hold your hand, tickle you, and kiss your cute face over and over again." He threw his hands down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "It's embarrassing how stuck I am on you when you're just my business partner."
...That damned feeling again.
Butterflies.
Until tonight Alastor hadn't seriously considered something like this. He hadn't necessarily been opposed, God knows his brain had been wandering if he let it, but romance has never a genuine option for him, at least in his mind.
Gazing at his blushing freckled face and shy smile, how his eyes looked up at Al like he had the answers to his future in his pupils.
Was that what attraction was like? Alastor wasn't sure.
He's heard plenty sing his praises before. He's had his fair share of fans of either gender go on and on about his voice, his singing, his talent, his appearance. He always appreciated a good stroking of his ego, but this was different. It meant more, felt more real from Vincent.
The idea of 'puppy love' was something he would've scoffed at mere days ago.
But now it was something he was very much considering. Something deep inside him even seemed eager at the possibility. Months of memories started flooding to his brain, all centered around feelings he had been blatantly ignoring.
His smile was nothing but adoring looking at Vincent.
"Dear, this would never in a million years have me abandoning you."
Al placed his hands on either side of Vincent's face. He could feel the heat of his flush under his palms.
"I... don't know enough about romance to confidently say what exactly I feel towards you, but... this is not unwelcome. And I can guarantee this with the certainty of the stars and the Earth itself... we are not 'just' business partners."
His smile lobbed a bit to the side in a smirk.
"How about you help me figure out if our feelings match. Describe what it is that has you certain it's puppy love. So far I have that you like my appearance, specifically my smile, laugh, and face. I also like yours as well. I think holding your hand would be nice. And... what was that last one?"
He knew exactly what he had said but he wanted to get him to repeat it.
Now that the idea was in Alastor's head, he was quite interested.
Vincent rolled on his side so the two were laying facing each other.
"God-" He huffed, avoiding eye contact, his smile utterly sappy. "My rant makes me sound like I just like you for your looks, that's not the case, I promise you, forgive me for fueling your ego with my sappiness, even though I know you love when I feed into it."
"Go on, then." Alastor teased which Vincent just smiled bigger at.
"You're... You're inspiring, really! Your performances are incredible. Your confidence and poise even when things get sticky... Smiling no matter what. You seem unshakable, on top of the world, a beacon of power and entertainment everyone deserves to see and admire.
"You inspire me to keep going. Even if you hadn't come today... I would've dusted myself off and faced tomorrow with a smile, because it's what you would've done. You resilience... it's one of my favorite qualities of yours.
"My loyalty to you is unbreakable... You're already aware I don't really believe in an afterlife, but if the whole Hell thing turns out real like you always insist I will absolutely follow you there. I'd walk straight into the inferno proudly if you were inside."
"I think about you constantly and it always makes me smile. Your face, your jokes, you stories, your cooking, God, I could go on and on, Al."
He looked up with a shy grin. "So, yeah, I'd like to kiss you, but I'd also be happy just... being there beside you, as long as you'll have me... preferably forever." He chuckled. "I'll always be here to support you, go on hunts with you, make you snort and giggle," He squeezed Alastor's side, eliciting the exact sounds listed. "Whatever you want."
He sighed. "Don't force yourself to return my feelings if you don't okay. As long as I'm beside you, I'm happy."
Alastor would be lying if he claimed he didn't enjoy the showering of compliments and adoration he was receiving. His expression was soft and happy, was this what being 'smitten' was like?
Alastor's hands were still cupping Vincent's face. He gently brushed his thumbs over those still warm cheeks.
Vincent had been immensely vulnerable with him. And with Alastor quite interested in further development of his relationship, he decided it was only fair he let down his walls a bit too.
"I've always thought romance as... ridiculous. To be that close, say such inane niceties... Obviously I have friends, but even with Mimzy I maintain a certain level of separation with. It was comfortable for me, to be so isolated and distant from everyone. It felt safe and orderly.
"And yet here you are. You know me on such a deeply personal level and it doesn't repulse me. Matter of fact, it feels... nice. It's nice to be known and... cared for."
Alastor sighed, letting a brief period of comfortable silence fill the space before speaking again.
"Do you remember how we met? At that party downtown all those years ago? Some get together for those in the entertainment scene in New Orleans. You came up to me, already having heard my radio show, and introduced yourself. And I looked at you and thought..."
Alastor leaned in close before smirking.
"Not another white man."
"Hey," Vincent playfully chastised. Alastor meanwhile broke into a few giggles and snorted. His hand retracted to lightly cover his smile with the back of his wrist, despite the fact that he fully felt comfortable letting out his real laugh. His messy unprofessional laugh. The laugh Vincent had practically waxed poetry about.
He leaned back with a smile blending teasing and fondness.
"I know that's probably not what you want to hear. But it highlights something important. This bond of ours took time. It took trust. It's something that grew slowly over the years into something that I... That I would be upset to lose."
Alastor rolled his eyes with a cheesy smile. "And I suppose if you stroked my ego I could stroke yours as well. Those pretty eyes of yours are practically begging for it."
He chuckled at Vincent's wide-eyed but overjoyed look and brushed some of his hair from his face.
"I feel I already touched on your appearance. It is far more than adequate." His voice dropped an octave on that last sentence before resuming its usual tone. "Your eagerness, your joy, your readiness to perform and take the spotlight, your humor... you're endlessly entertaining, darling. Never a dull moment with this one around is there?" Alastor tapped his nose before resting his hands on the bed between them.
"My life is delightfully unpredictable now with you in it. A little chaos to my order. Who knew I'd become so addicted to it?"
He watched Vincent's eyes. He could get lost in those colors. It wasn't just different base colors. The lightly reflected off each iris differently. He could waste hours analyzing each detail.
"I've never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. I don't have the words to describe it. Because romance has never been even a consideration for me, I don't know what to compare us too."
He held Vincent's hand in his.
"But I know the following. I care about your safety and your happiness. I want you close to me. I'm happy when you're around. And when we have to be apart for some time, it hurts. Oh, and also..."
Now it was time to really jump in the deep end. Judging by Vincent's confession he'd probably respond positively to this little curiosity Alastor had had a couple times before.
Alastor closed in so their noses were almost touching. "I would like to try kissing you right now."
Vincent's eyes blew to the size of saucers. He squeaked and nodded. "S-sure!"
Alastor moved in a bit closer but hesitated, having quite literally 0 experience. Vincent seemed to be happy to take over and slowly closed the gap. Alastor's lips pressed against his. Satisfying and intimate, but Alastor wasn't quite sure what the fuss was about.
Vincent huffed a laugh with a light smile before moving his lips and,
Oh.
Oh that felt nice.
Their lips pressed and moved against each other gently in a sort of back-and-forth, give-and-take motion with Vincent leading him through it.
He sighed happily into the feeling. He felt so... warm. Warm and tingly.
After a moment, Alastor pulled back with just the slightest smack of lips signaling their departure. Vincent opened his eyes and Alastor could swear he saw sparkles in his mismatched irises.
"That was... satisfying." Alastor said, flushed from the kiss and from the embarrassment of admitting such a thing, though he knew it was important for this conversation.
Vincent chuckled. "I'm glad. I enjoyed it too." He picked at a loose thread on the comforter and spoke again.
"So... as you've said, we're not 'just business partners'. What are we, do you think?"
Alastor hummed for a moment, mulling it over. "Partners. Just drop the business part. For life and beyond, I would you like you to be mine, and as long as you're mine, I will be yours. Whatever that means to us."
Vincent's eyes were wide and shiny, his smile so soft and happy. "Yeah. I like that. Partners."
"And just so you know," Alastor's tone sharpened a noticeable amount, "this level of closeness is for us and us alone. You are not to share this level of intimacy or the details of your relationship with anyone. Understood?"
Vincent squeaked and nodded. "Yep! No problem!"
"I'm glad we understand one another." Alastor leaned back just a bit with a fond grin, hands coming to rest on the blanket between them.
They stayed there for a moment, just... enjoying the new frontier of their relationship. Alastor quirked an eyebrow when he saw Vincent give a little smirk.
"What are you thinking about?" He asked fondly.
"Just wondering how much 'confessing my undying love and starting a courtship' is worth in terms of taking off the seconds for my scheduled execution tomorrow."
He quickly darted his fingers to Alastor's sides, making him flinch with a giggle.
"Because... If it's still a stupidly high number, I have ways to convince you otherwise!" His grin was playful and silly, showing nothing of the heartache he had endured earlier, thank the heavens. He leaned in and began peppering tiny quick kisses over Alastor's cheeks.
The darker man yipped in surprise and all but melted into the silly gesture. His smile was ear-to-ear as he snickered at the loving kisses pressed to his cheeks. He wasn't used to so much affection but he was certain he would be happy for this to be a regular occurrence.
He hadn't really felt any sort of physical affection in decades until this whole tickling thing started with Vincent. Unfortunately for his pride, he was really enjoying being showered with love and attention.
He chuckled. "As sweet as this is, you're not worming your way out of that one, darling."
The light playful kisses moved downwards to his neck. He gasped before breaking into giggles, he knew Vincent targeted his throat because he was highly ticklish there. The speed and softness of the little pecks were murder on his nerves, he couldn't help but squirm and giggle.
And then he heard an inhale...
"Vihihincehent, dohon't you daHAHAHAHAHAHARE- SNRK!" That ridiculous sounding raspberry tickled like the dickens, sending him into near immediate hysterics.
"Theeeeere he is!" Vincent cooed loudly, his fingers quickly dancing over his sides and belly to keep Alastor laughing and snorting. "My snorty little piggy!"
Alastor, for once, felt completely fine with letting himself be tickled, as opposed to his usual clash of pride and secret enjoyment. He knew Vincent knew, and he no longer felt the need to try and recover the secret he'd never get back. The vulnerability of the long conversation was hard, but now he felt like so much between them was new and open to explore. Vincent shifted to straddle his waist and Alastor let him, rolling on his back as he allowed himself laugh without restraint.
Vincent halted his fingers to tease without distraction.
"I'm not an idiot, Al. I know. But thanks for confirming you're okay with me calling you that in private, my little piggy."
Alastor flushed and narrowed his eyes. "Careful what you say, my dear squeaky toy. Or should I start pushing your buttons and see how high your voice goes this time?"
Vincent grinned something more familiar to his everyday demeanor, something teasing and plotting. "Guess I won't say anything, then. I'll just-" He dove back in and blew another raspberry on the side of his neck while his fingers fluttered and skittered over his quaking belly.
"AHA! SNRK! VIHIHHA- SNRK! EHEHAHA!" Alastor erupted into stupidly happy laughter, thrashing only by instinct while he cackled and snorted to his heart's content.
"All you gotta do is reduce the timer for tomorrow," Vincent spoke and hummed into Alastor's neck which was still unfortunately very ticklish, "Or at least give me save states. I'll just keep tickle-tickle-tickling you until you agree!"
"N-Nehehehever!" Alastor shouted playfully, knowing where it'd lead.
"Oh, you really do want to be tickled, don't you piglet? Well I'd be happy to! Coochie coochie coo!" He ended his childish cooing with an even longer raspberry, sending Alastor further into hysteria.
Vincent giggled into his neck, making Alastor squeal. "I keep forgetting just how bad baby talk gets you. Adorable."
Indeed, baby talk was deeply embarrassing which somehow leant itself to the ticklish feeling. Alastor wouldn't be shocked if Vincent could feel the heat of his blush down his neck and onto the man's lips.
Christ, the vibrations on his neck tickled so much more than they had any right to!
"Can't even handle a few ticklish raspberries, can you? All that sadistic cruelty and deadly ability inside a giggly little baby doll, dawwww!"
Alastor's eyes shot open at the nickname as heat crept over his ears and across his collarbone.
Butterflies. The damn butterflies swarmed in his belly.
Babydoll?!
If Vincent said that in public he'd slit his throat. Well, maybe not, but he'd certainly threaten it.
But here?
Vincent's cooing babyish teases were flustering and embarrassing, sure, but... that was part of the fun of these little games. Even though they drove Alastor insane.
This was part of their play. The teasing and the taunting. It was part of the fun to let Vincent get under his skin, just as he reveled getting under Vincent's.
And the man thought of him as anything other than a frail little doll to take care of, like most husbands thought about their wives when they said these things. He'd just gone on and on mere minutes ago about how much he admired and looked up to him.
The nickname was affection and teasing, nothing more.
The fact that Alastor didn't immediately clock him over the head would send all the signal that Vincent needed to know that he didn't despise it.
"Shuhut thehe HEHEHELL uhuhup, Squeheheaks!" He sputtered through frantic giggling, firing back with a new (and more accurate) nickname towards his partner.
Vincent leaned back to make eye contact, smirking with immense satisfaction.
"If you don't relent and give me something to help out with my penalty tomorrow... I'm gonna..." He trailed off, looking over Alastor's body with a hum. Alastor simply laid there catching his breath, curious to see where it'd go.
"I'll... tickle your feet! I'll tickle them and get all your cute little oinks." Vincent leaned down and nuzzled Alastor's face, who playfully chomped the air next to him with a snarl. Vincent was unfazed, still beaming as he continued. "So, you hungry for more tickles or do you promise to give me save points?"
Alastor breathed deeply as his foot twitched the slightest bit. He knew for a fact his feet were terribly ticklish, to the point that washing them when bathing was a bit of a chore. A simple rag running over his sole tickled like Hell, but as it was him doing it it never made him laugh, just cringe and flinch.
The worst kind of ticklish, in Alastor's book.
Hm...
Oh, what the Hell? He had more laughter in him.
He smirked.
"You want save points? Earn them."
His eyes were narrow, taunting him. They said one thing and one thing only.
Make me.
Vincent's expression was dripping in adoration and excitement. He brought a hand up to brush over Alastor's cheek who hummed happily beneath the touch.
Oh, Alastor was really starting to grow attached to this physical affection thing.
He hadn't been touched this much since he was a child. It felt so comforting and safe, full of love and care that warmed him to his core.
"What's your mood, then, handsome? Free range to thrash or do you want a little help to keep from fighting?" Vincent glanced down at his belt.
His eyes followed to the item. They were no strangers to using it to keep Vincent's hands up so Alastor could torment his favorite spot of his.
Though they'd just been quite vulnerable with each other, Alastor didn't think he'd ever be the type to volunteer to being restrained. So he spun his words carefully. Taunting, but clearly suggesting what Vincent was already contemplating.
He gazed up through half-lidded eyes.
"I'm going to need some convincing before I even consider giving you any leeway." He cocked his head to the side. "Think you're even capable of that? I'm not easily held back, as you know."
A scream from the radio startled both of them. Ah, yes. They had tuned out that radio show Alastor had put on hadn't they?
"And turn that off. The killer is obviously the cook anyway, I don't need to hear the end."
"Such confidence from a cute piggy." One last kiss to Alastor's cheek, before Vincent pulled himself off the bed, letting Al's arms be free for a moment to situate himself.
"I've been thinking it's the gardener," Vincent commented as he fiddled with the radio, shuffling some stuff around on the desk as he did so.
"The gardener was the victim." Alastor chuckled. He clearly hadn't been listening, too far away in his happy place from having his sides played with. "Killed by a fall, thought to be suicide, though obviously it was the cook who pushed him after luring him up there as hinted in the beginning when it mentioned the dish he was making was the gardener's favorite. Child's play."
"Okay, smartass." Vincent snorted.
Alastor lightly rubbed the sole of one foot with the other as his nerves set in.
Oh, lord this was going to tickle so bad.
Vincent approached the bed and began unbuckling his belt.
"Do you want your arms behind your back or to be connected to the bed frame? Also, maybe... take off your shirt? If you want?"
Vincent was the least subtle person in the world when it came to Alastor.
The smaller man raised an eyebrow as he slid off his vest and his button-up. "Figures you need all the help you can get." His smile and tone were nothing but playful. "And be my guest, do whatever you think will help you win this little battle." He shot a sharp glance at Vincent. "Because you're not getting any mercy from me tomorrow, no matter what you try tonight."
It was bait. Obvious glaring bait.
He offered a big long stretch, his arms straining above his head for a moment and showing off his torso that had always seemed to catch Vincent's eyes before. His gaze focused on Vincent's face, scanning his reaction.
The man was practically drooling over the sight in front of him, eyes wide and face red. He had never been shirtless in front of him before and, as obvious Vincent's reaction, it was not due to lack of eagerness on Vincent's part.
"Do you plan to bore to me into submission?" Alastor teased. Vincent startled as if his mind had been completely gone from the room before clearing his throat and getting to work with the belt binding. He looped it through the nearest bed post and clicked it firmly around Alastor's wrists.
"That okay? Not too tight?"
"I'm quite alright," Alastor assured him as he tugged experimentally on his arms. "You're rather familiar with being bound so I guess you're a natural on the other side as well."
Vincent snickered. "You love being a little brat don't you?"
"Guilty." Alastor shrugged.
Vincent went and sat himself on Alastor's shins, facing his feet. He carefully began peeling off his socks and Alastor shivered in anticipation.
Once his feet were bare and his stomach was in knots, he heard a quiet click.
"Tell me, Al, does this tickle at all? Or is it too rough?"
Then, a gentle pointy little sensation on the ball of his foot.
Knowing Vincent it was probably something embarrassing. Pen ink was a monster to clean off and his feet were horribly sensitive even to his own touch.
Ohhhh Vincent was going to pay for this...
"Ding ding! You got it right!" He happily waved the tool in the air, a simple black ballpoint pen with the logo from his TV network on the casing. "Got this baby as a promotion gift after we murdered the News Caster! Some benefits, huh? I saw it on my desk next to the radio and just had to try."
Alastor panted like he had just gone running once that cursed trinket left his foot. He had been laughing so hard that even that brief period had him slightly breathless. His soles were practically aching from the leftover tingling.
That pen went right back to its job of writing and doodling over the sole of Alastor's feet, leaving him a cackling snorting mess.
"It's definitely doing the trick judging by your adorable laughter. And what's the fun of telling you what I'm writing? Don't you wanna guess?"
Alastor could, if he tried, probably hazard a few guesses as to what Vincent had wrote, not that he really wanted to.
Once the pen stilled and Alastor regained some coherency, he spoke again. "I know you wrote something," a deep tired breath, "just to embarrass me, you little imp. I refuse to guess."
Vincent shrugged, unbothered. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see what it is later. Doesn't that sound like fun?" He didn't give him a chance to answer before going back to his doodling, sending Alastor thrashing and laughing his heart out.
"Goochie goochie goooo! Tickle tickle!"
The cooing was immediately met with kicking and bucking.
“DOHON’T YOHOHOU DAHAHARE!” He yelled through his laughter. His words were mortifying… and Alastor’s temper made it abundantly clear.
"Aww, ticklish little thing. Think I should switch to the other foot, or can this lovely canvas of mine handle a few more doodles?"
“Ihihi cahahan hahahandle ahahahanything. Juhuhust shuhuhut UHUHUP!” Alastor immediately answered his question with his usual bravado, not thinking it through at all.
"Awwww, I'm sure you can!" He cooed as his pen touched down against the untouched space just beneath Alastor's toes. The new spot shot his laughter up an octave. Not up to Vincent's usual range but definitely higher than what was normal for Alastor.
"Ooh, little piggy squeals!" Vincent giggled smugly and then brought the pen to the other foot, quickly making use of the unmarked space at a maddeningly fast pace.
"Immensely brave, these ticklish feet, working so hard to handle simple pen strokes. Is my ticklish piggy brave? Yes you are! Tickle tickle tickle! Cootchie cootchie coo~"
Alastor was properly hysteric now, and the baby talk certainly wasn't helping. He was thrashing, snorting, and rapidly switching between cackles and screams.
He got very close to what could be considered begging.
The pen wasn't even the most ticklish tool he'd endured (It was still pretty damn bad), it's just that it was murder on his sensitive nerves down there in a way feathers and brushes weren't. His soles were always horribly sensitive and the pointiness of the pen was pushing him to the brink of insanity.
And he was not looking forward to cleaning it off.
The pen soon clicked, signaling the retreat of that horribly ticklish point.
"Alright, alright. I was running out of canvas, anyways." Alastor relaxed, panting deeply and he scrunched and unscrunched his foot. Fuck he could still feel it. Phantom sensations.
Sensations which were quickly renewed as Vincent replaced the pen with his gentle fluttering fingers.
"SNRK! Ehehehe- snrk! Pffteheh- SNRK! AHAHA!"
Shit, his feet needed a break. Thankfully Vincent seemed to have forgotten about 'making' him give him breaks tomorrow and was happy to just do as requested.
Hopefully he'll continue to forget that aspect. Then he can tickle him the full 80 seconds tomorrow. Delicious torture for him...
"D-DAHAHAMIT! SNRK! SOHOHOMEWHERE EHEHELSE!"
"Somewhere else, huh?" The tone of Vincent's voice made dread pool in his belly.
"Mhmmmmm, but I don't know, I kinda like tickling these sensitive feet! I guess I could be persuaded to change spots..."
He glanced back at Alastor and made eye contact while continuing his gentle torment of his soles. Damnit, he hadn't forgotten. Seems he actually had a spine here and wouldn't be letting up until he got what he wanted.
"Considering my penalty tomorrow, If you make a promise with me to give me save or rest points every ten seconds, so that I pass a ten-second mark, and then if I fail again, I won't be starting off back at one, but like... at 30, or 50, or 70, whatever I managed to get to before I failed..."
The fluttering picked up its pace, focusing on the most ticklish spots Vincent seemed to have mentally mapped out.
"If you agree to give me that, I will happily move on from these very ticklish feet, do we have a deal, sweetheart?"
If Alastor had wanted a good laugh he was certainly getting one. He was breathless with the sound.
His feet were tingling and tense being tickled to their limits. Every brush and wiggle over spots already written on made him feel like he needed to throw himself out the window.
But past his laughter that shook his whole body, he couldn't find a way out of it. All thoughts spiraled around the massive blaring fact that it tickled like all Hell by God he needed a break from it.
Vincent's smug glare flipped to adoration and satisfaction in an instant, the same instant the tickling to his feet finally blessedly stopped.
"There we go! Was that so hard, piglet? One minor agreement that makes sure your dear partner doesn't pass out tomorrow." He happily hummed, putting the utensil in his pocket.
After storing that cursed weapon away, the paler man turned and climbed across the bed until he was propped up over Alastor's body, noses nearly touching. With the release of his legs Alastor immediately planted his feet into the comforter and slowly rubbed them back and forth to try and eliminate the leftover tingling.
He made eye contact with Vincent, taking in his utterly lovestruck expression. "Hi, darling," He placed a quick kiss to either of Alastor's cheeks. "You having fun?"
Yes. And though he'd gotten more comfortable with this all, he still wasn't at the point he was going to answer that question truthfully.
Vincent looked so stupidly happy. And Alastor was stupidly happy to see that.
Seems Vincent was going to become much more openly affectionate now that they've had their talk.
Alastor was unprepared for what exactly it would entail but he was ready to accept it. He certainly wasn't upset with what he was receiving right now, those kisses to his cheeks making him want to giggle like a teenager with a crush.
"Lotta loud giggles and snorts over here, you're just the cutest ticklish piggy there is!" Vincent playfully nuzzled their noses together, before connecting their foreheads. "One of my favorite sounds, up there with every other sound you make!"
"Big talk coming from a squeaky toy as high-pitched as you. Though I must admit I have a fondness for those as well. Just like those eyes."
They truly were gorgeous, weren't they? Alastor was more mesmerized each time he looked at them. What ridiculous words could ever make Vincent believe they were an ugly feature?
Alastor would have to keep doling out compliments if they made Vincent look so adorably shy with that goofy little grin.
"You're gonna kill me with all these sweet words." Vincent said softly as he gentle brushed some of Alastor's hair behind his ear.
SNORT!
Oh no, not another-
"Your ears are a tickle spot?!" Vinecnt sounded as excited a kid on Christmas morning. "Oh, Doll, you're just a gem of cute little spots and noises!"
Curse his stupid fucking snort-laugh. At least the one person he was close with seemed to like it for some reason. Why he adored his snorting so much, Alastor couldn’t say. But he was grateful for it.
Didn't completely erase the embarrassment, however. Especially when Vincent began gently tracing the shells of both ears.
A horribly shrill shriek left Alastor's mouth and his shoulders shot up to protect his poor ticklish ears as snorts and squealy laughter escaped him.
Seemed his voice could go almost as high as Vincent's, he just had to be tickled in the right places.
Vincent leaned in very close and whispered into his ear something awfully ticklish, with the hand that was stationed there transferring to flutter at his neck. "Cootchie cootchie coo, ticklish little piglet."
His eyes shot wide open as soon as the baby talk left Vincent's mouth and he thrashed wildly.
"You know, I haven't even tickled your belly yet, and even without it, you're sitting here losing your marbles." Vincent purred happily into the sensitive ear.
He slowly pulled back to straddle Alastor's waist upright, taking his hands to rest on Alastor's sides.
"Think we should change that?" He said casually with an infuriating smirk.
Alastor blinked up at Vincent then cast his gaze to the side and growled, the flush on his face clear as day.
He wasn't sure if Vincent had clocked it, but his stomach was his favorite spot to be tickled. It was by far his most ticklish area but it always made him laugh so hard and happily and it just felt good. It wasn't the same kind of good as Vincent's sides, as Alastor didn't really melt like he did. It just made him embarrassingly happy.
...but like fucking Hell he was gonna make any indication that that was true.
"Do what you want. Tomorrow it will be paid back in kind."
Vincent scoffed playfully and shifted back so his head was right above Alastor's belly. "You'd be as evil tomorrow even if I hadn't tickled you tonight, which is why I'm getting my preemptive revenge."
He laid his head on Alastor's stomach, just beneath Alastor's navel. He shifted his head to look wide-eyed at it.
"Hmmmm, are you seeing this Al? You've got a cute little button of some sort on your belly!" Said in a dramatically astonished explanation. "We need to make sure this little cutie is harmless, time for some exploration!" He was talking as if Alastor was a baby, his face matching the tone with exaggerated theatrical expressions, as he plunged his finger into the navel in question and lightly wiggled it around.
Alastor's face was burning all the way to his ears.
"SH-SHUTIT!" Alastor sputtered. "DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THA-AHAHAHA! SNRK!"
Full body laughter wracked his frame amongst squeals and snorts and very colorful protests.
The complete and utter embarrassment enveloped him along with the maddeningly ticklish feeling and his hysterical laughter, making his head feel fuzzy as he lost all composure.
"Gasp!" Vincent put a hand to his face, not looking at Alastor as he stared at his naval. "Doll! It's a tickle button! Can you believe it!?"
He hummed and looked like he was very seriously analyzing his stomach, making Alastor burn with embarrassment.
"I'm afraid this little button will need to be thoroughly tested." He gave Alastor a very serious look, speaking so dramatically as if he were playing another game with those kids from all those weeks ago. "Tickle buttons are projects that need to be investigated!" He declared.
Vincent sat his face on Al's belly, peering at the navel with wide theatrical eyes. His mouth was against the sensitive bit right underneath the naval, and he let out purposeful vibrations against the skin, as his hands gently drummed their fingers on the sides of his belly.
"HMMMMMMM..." was expressed loudly through purposeful vibrations.
Alastor was mortified. His stomach was doing flips as he tossed his head back and forth. His eyes were screwed shut. He couldn't believe this.
An empty threat, but said with plenty of ferocity.
Vincent sat up abruptly. "I'm afraid that more in-depth research will be needed!" He bared his teeth in a wide grin, watching Al's face with delighted eyes.
..In depth research? What did he-
Both eyes shot open and he sputtered.
"VIHINCENT, dohon't yohohou DARE!"
Alastor's heart was pounding. He twitched and squirmed under his gaze. Excitement pulsed through every vein. Fuck this was going to tickle like the dickens and he couldn't wait...
"What surprising threats!" He gasped, obviously not surprised in the slightest. "Is it possible that this tickle button encourages violence? Well, now it has to be investigated!"
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss on either cheek, smirking at the flushed, giggly face. "Don't worry, Baby Doll, I'll save you from this meanie, icky little giggle button!" Playful taunt whispered in a babyish tone.
He pulled back, stabilizing Alastor's hips with his hands, and took in a big gulp of air, before shooting down to deliver a giant raspberry.
"PFFFFBBBBBBBBBTTTTT!" As soon as the air had escaped, he took a small breath of needed air before nibbling the edges of his navel, smug eyes glancing up at Alastor as he did so.
Alastor's back arched high as a helpless ear-piercing shriek of laughter escaped him. He threw his head back and absolutely howled, cackling and snorting as hard as he was physically able.
And Vincent didn't stop. His teeth kept nibbling on his hyper-sensitive nerves.
So Al didn't stop laughing, didn't stop crying tears of mirth, didn't stop snorting for quite a while.
The longer it went on, the fuzzier his head got. Not just from breathlessness, but from a flood of laughter-driven endorphins seeping into every crease of his brain. He could barely even think aside from the fact that it tickled, leaving him a loopy giggly mess without protest or retort.
It was like everything melted away. His need to be seen a certain way, his anxieties, his pride, his inhibitions, all of it just... faded away as Alastor fizzled into an unknown headspace that just felt so good.
He panted for breaths between giggles and snorts as the tickles shifted from his belly to his neck, a comparatively less ticklish spot.
When those teeth caught beneath his jaw, his squealed and hiccupped without a care in the world.
He was so… happy. He was embraced in a blanket of comfort and laughter and a euphoric loss of composure.
With Vincent. His partner.
Through his tickle-haze, their eyes met, his gaze communicating nothing but empty-headed mirth as he giggled and snorted incessantly.
Vincent pressed their foreheads together.
"I'm so happy right now. You've made me the happiest man in the world. I just want to continue this. Being with you, us making each other laugh, together until we grow old and gray."
Alastor's brain was a happy mushy pile of goo at this point. He heard Vincent talking but it was difficult to really comprehend every word.
He just knew that they were both happy. Overjoyed was probably a more apt descriptor.
Alastor tilted his head up and pressed his lip to Vincent's, though they were wide in a smile as he continued giggling and let out a couple snorts while he was there until he pulled away.
His hands pulled on their restraints as he attempted to reach out. He had honestly forgotten about the belt. His wrists lightly tugged a few times but he was too giggly and blissed out to figure out how to free himself.
"Let me get that for you." Vincent made quick work of the belt and tossed it aside. Immediately Alastor's arms wrapped around Vincent's neck. The taller man laid down on his side and Alastor curled into him, resting his cheek against that spot on his bare chest he had accidentally found those months ago as his shirt was still open. At some point Vincent laid on his back so Alastor could more easily curl into his side.
Alastor was still coming down from his high. That amount of laughter and loving teasing and embarrassment had sent his brain up to the clouds where it was still wanting to stay.
For once in his adult life he just felt so safe... so free to be silly and forget himself.
After a moment, Alastor stirred. His mind had finally come back to him. He felt quite embarrassed but knew it was fine. Vincent still looked up to him and no one else saw their little games they played. They were safe to each other, no matter how silly or 'weak' they might appear or let themselves be.
"You doing alright, tickle bug?"
Alastor giggled and looked up at Vincent. "Don't call me that."
"I don't know. I think it's a great name!" Vincent smile was cheesy and fond, not serious in the slightest.
Alastor hummed and nuzzled back into Vincent's chest. "I'm staying tonight."
He snorted. "No room for argument, huh?"
"Unless you want me to leave?" Alastor asked knowing full well what the answer was.
"Not a chance, doll. You're staying with me." He crushed Alastor in a remarkably strong hug, knocking the wind out of him before letting him go. "I wish you could live with me forever."
"Unfortunately two single men living with each other wouldn't look good to others. But nothing's stopping me from 'staying with a friend' most nights." Alastor put up some air quotes and grinned which Vincent matched.
"I guess you better get some stuff over to your 'friends' house if you plan to stay a while."
"Quite a while." Alastor said decisively.
"That's more than fine with me."
The two relaxed into the mattress with their new position. An arm wrapped around Alastor who was nuzzled and curled into Vincent's side, eyes lightly shut as he breathed in the scent his partner.
They both couldn't wait to see what their relationship brought next.
Hazbin Hotel | Murdermedia [Human!Alastor x Human!Vincent]
Fifth Fic in this Series | Link To Series On AO3 Here
First Fic | Second Fic | Third Fic | Fourth Fic | Fifth Fic (This One)
Summary: It's the day of the kill! But before they can get to murder, they meet a couple of kids who wanna play. [THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]
warning for internalized homophobia and sexism, mentions of murder and planning for murder, mentions of blood and cannibalism, references to period-typical sexism and homophobia, mentions of food, mentions of a shitty father, and light angst.
a good 5.8k words for the final chapter of Cashing In (not final fic in the series. not by a longshot, dont worry. we have soooooo much more to go.)
we have LIGHT ANGST HERE. but dont worry all the sadness will eventually be resolved cause i like super fluffy saccharine sweetness.
ALSO i cANNOT believe i keep forgetting to mention this but the majority of this series is based on a roleplay i did on my sideblog with another person (who gave me the all go ahead for writing these fics based off the months of rp we did) so thought id mention that!
REMINDER THAT THIS BLOG WILL BE DELETED (eventually) AND ALL MY FICS WILL BE ON AO3 FOREVER.
>>>BOOKMARK MY AO3 HERE<<<
---
Vincent ran a hand over the concealed gun at his side. Alastor's own weapon of choice, his dagger, was also properly concealed.
They were at Mulberry Park about an hour ahead of the expected arrival of their target. Homicide was a delicate business, you couldn't afford to miss your shot. So it paid to arrive early in case the target unexpectedly did the same.
Now the two were playing the waiting game. They sat themselves on a bench tucked underneath a tree close to the edge of the park, where the flat open grass met a thick wall of cypress.
It was still rather early in the day, the sun hadn't quite revealed its full self from the horizon yet, and the turtle doves cooed their familiar song.
The air was damp with morning dew and the thick Louisiana heat was still scrambling from the clutches of the night's lonely chill.
Vincent took a deep breath. He enjoyed the mornings on the rare chances he actually dragged his ass out of bed early enough to enjoy them. He was still a bit groggy from the disturbance to his sleep schedule, but Alastor didn't seem bothered in the slightest about the early rise.
The pair were quiet, but it was comfortable. They were both basking in the atmosphere of a perfect morning.
The first human-made sound in a while rang out, laughter, that from small children.
Two young boys came running from the trees, chasing and stumbling after one another in a merry little game. From the looks of it, no older than 8, no younger than 5.
Whether the children noticed them, they gave no signs, simply focusing on their mutual play.
Vincent didn't even bother wondering where the parents might be. He knew very well it was practically the norm to kick your kids out of the house at sunrise and tell them to go play until dinner. He'd bet his money on the kids being siblings just beginning their day's activities away from the house.
He watched them for a moment, both of them taking turns chasing and being chased, laughing and poking and goading each other.
"Cute kids," he said conversationally to his partner beside him. He received a simple hum in return.
He flicked his eyes over, prodding a bit more than he usually did out of curiosity. Alastor was simply watching the scene before them with an unreadable expression. "Have you ever wanted kids of your own?"
"Absolutely not." Came an immediate answer.
Vincent wasn't sure why he felt so completely deflated at that. He shook it off, though. "You, uh, don't like kids?"
"I wouldn't say I dislike them, per say." He cocked his head and hummed in thought. "Children are the only truly innocent amongst us. Every child deserves to be loved and cared for and protected. I just... I don't think I'm the one to do it."
Vincent's smile returned. That was better than what he had assumed. He playfully scoffed. "Oh come on. I think you'd be a great dad."
"Hardly. And I have no desire to be one. I just don't understand how best to interact with them. I wish them the best, but... I struggle to, well, 'play'."
Vincent couldn't help but laugh. "Come on, you never played pretend as a kid?"
"On occasion, perhaps. I was an only child with poor parents. there were no other families nearby so I had no one to play with. Sure, I played, but it was mostly while hunting, fishing, or foraging, and it wasn't really 'pretend'."
"Oh... uh, sorry."
Alastor chuckled. "Oh come now, it's no skin off my back."
There was another comfortable silence between them. Vincent relaxed more against the back of the bench, smiling fondly as the children continued their play.
"Do you ever want children?" Alastor asked suddenly.
Vincent blinked and shrugged. "Oh, uh... well. With my line of work it's not exactly feasible."
"But does the idea appeal to you?"
Vincent smiled softly. "Yeah. I've wanted to have a family even when i was a boy. Have a little one running around... playing pretend, guiding them, helping them grow up..."
A teasing grin. "You like playing pretend?"
Vincent chuckled and rolled his eyes. "With kids, asshole. I'm an only child too but I've got a lot of younger cousins. I've babysat here and there. I'm not great with babies but kids i can do."
Alastor looked him over. Vincent often struggled to discern what the other was thinking and this was one of those moments.
"...Boy or girl?"
"Pardon?"
"Would you prefer to raise a son or a daughter?"
Vincent swallowed. It was getting a little personal but damn if he weren't eager to share everything about himself with Alastor. "I know dads are supposed to want sons to raise into men... but honestly? I've always liked the thought of having a daughter."
Alastor's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
Vincent didn't hesitate to continue. "Yeah. Daddy's little girl, oh I'd spoil her. I don't care if she wanted to play pretty princesses, I'd be the biggest meanest dragon for her to defeat. Women are supposed to be all passive and subservient but if I had a daughter? she'd be the toughest in school, not afraid of anything."
"She would face quite the difficulties and backlash for resisting societal expectations."
"I know that, but the daughter of Vincent Whittman? With me raising and protecting her, she'd be able to take it all. I'd raise her strong and raise her loved." Vincent didn't even want to think about how sappy and pathetic his face looked right then.
Alastor continued talking, seeming casual and unbothered to an untrained ear, but there was a slight tension in his next question. "Do you think you'll do it? Start a family one day?"
Vincent waved him off with a huff. "Yeah, sure, when I'm dead maybe." He turned his attention back to the boys who were now whispering to each other. "It's a nice dream to have." His voice was just barely audible there, some emotion threatening to flow over.
Their conversation was thoroughly interrupted when the boys came trotting over to them.
"Hey, misters!" The oldest one said rather loudly. "Wanna play treasure with us?"
Vincent smirked and cocked an eyebrow at Alastor who responded to as close a grimace as he could muster. Oh well. His loss.
Vincent leaned forward, grinning.
"Don't mind my friend. He's just a big party pooper. Now, tell me how a guy even plays 'treasure.'"
The boys lit up, thrilled to have a new player in their game.
"I'm Oscar," The younger one said. "And that's my brother, Edwin."
Glad to know he was right about them being siblings.
"Nice to meet you." Vincent shook their much smaller hands with a genuine smile.
"I have the treasure!" Edwin held up a rather plain looking rock. It was smooth and small enough to hold in the palm of the child's hand, most likely picked up from the nearby riverbank. "It's the most priceless and amazing treasure in the world. And you have to get it from me. And you can't let anybody take it cause if- if you have the treasure then it's yours and you can't give it away."
Ah. A simple game of Keep Away. Vincent was quite familiar.
"Alright, well, better get ready because I won't hold back!" He lied. Of course he'd hold back, but the theatrics and the promise immediately got the kids excited as he intended. He stood and held his arms up with a playful snarl. The kids squealed, quickly running around the park as Vincent gave a slow but silly chase.
Alastor sat back, rather transfixed by the juvenile play. He didn't take Vincent as a parental type, but the kids absolutely adored him. He watched closely. Vincent very clearly wasn't putting in a lot of effort, despite making it seem to the kids as if he were. It was a performance. That's all this game was to Vincent wasn't it? A performance, putting on a show.
Perhaps Alastor could see the appeal there, then. He himself had never done anything resembling children's entertainment, but this was a form of it, wasn't it? Children could be a difficult audience he had heard, but they could also be such a deeply earnest and rewarding one.
As he had told Vincent, Alastor didn't dislike children. He truly wished the best for every child, wanting nothing but smiles and laughter for them. He just felt, well, awkward trying to interact with them.
The children squealed as Vincent dramatically snatched up the rock and held it high in the air.
"Ah, me and my treasure! I think I’ll admire it aaaaall the way up here!" His voice was so over dramatic it even made Alastor smile wider. He looked at the rock in his hand now held far above his head, humming as if he were analyzing it and not watching the kids out of the corner of his eye.
"Hey, no fair!" Oscar giggled and squealed, hopping on his toes with his arms outstretched as if that would give him an extra 4 feet of height.
"What?" Vincent spoke rather loudly. "I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my amazing incredible super sparkly treasure!"
Edwin patted Oscar on the shoulder and started whispering to him in his ear. Oscar nodded and then proceeded to climb on Edwin's shoulders.
Alastor chuckled. They probably thought that was a full proof plan but they still weren't even halfway to the height they needed to be.
"Heyyyyy give us the rock!" Oscar lightly punched Vincent's side which, obviously, didn't hurt him in the slightest.
"Rock? What rock? What I have here is the most amazing treasure on the whole entire planet!" He continued his grand theatrics and Alastor couldn't hold back his small chuckle.
"Wait, Oscar!" Edwin said excitedly, "Attack him!"
Vincent gazed at the pair curiously, as did Alastor, curious what they were going to do that constituted an 'attack'.
Then Vincent squealed as tiny eager fingers began tickling up and down his belly and sides.
"H-Hehehey! EEK! Quihihit thahahat!" He giggled as his arms jerked downwards.
Alastor's grin widened. Oh, wasn't that just precious?
"You laugh funny, mister!" Edwin snickered. A few more squeezes and skitters from Oscar and Vincent tossed the rock onto the ground. As the children scrambled for their treasure, Vincent rubbed his arms on his torso and rid himself of his goofy little smile to replace it with a big exaggerated grin.
"Oho, now you've done it! You stole my treasure... now you've unleashed the most fearsome monster of all... the tickle monster!" Vincent roared and raised wiggling claws, causing the boys to run every which way squealing and giggling excitedly.
Alastor jolted. That was remarkably childish. How could Vincent even stand to say things like that? Just the words alone made heat rush to his face and his stomach flutter nervously. He couldn't imagine just.. saying something so immature and cutesy aloud where anyone could hear. What was that about?
The youngest of the two, Oscar, ran towards Alastor and ducked behind his leg. "Save me Mister Party Pooper!" He giggled.
Vincent looked up with his raised wiggling claws, the two serial killers making eye contact. "Oh, he won't protect you. Even he's susceptible to the tickle monster!"
Alastor's stomach did a triple flip and the heat in his cheeks flared. It was so humiliatingly childish, even more embarrassing was that he knew Vincent was right.
Vincent, ever perceptive, clocked his reaction and cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Come on, Oscar! To our fort! They'll never get our treasure!" Edwin called, waving him over towards the edge of the woods.
The youngest sibling nodded and scrambled from his hiding place. He sprinted off, glancing behind him just enough to call out a "Bye, misters!" and disappear in the trees with his brother.
Vincent watched them run off with a smile, meanwhile Alastor was putting conscious effort not to squirm in his seat.
The taller man turned to him with a look of confused amusement. "That whole tickle monster thing put ants in your pants?" Alastor's eye twitched.
"Shut the Hell up, Vincent!" His voice was snappish but not angry. Vincent grinned. Alastor wasn't pissed. He was flustered. Heavily so. He opened his mouth to speak again before getting firmly cut off. "We're approaching the set time. Get in position, make sure the perimeter is clear including the boys, and be on your guard."
The jovial grin instantly slipped from his face into a mask of indifference and focus. Play time was over.
It would probably frighten some people if they knew how easily they could go from having fun and feeling normal emotions like joy and mischief to a sort of... numb satisfaction from carrying out a forbidden act.
It was a type of compartmentalizing. A stranger may look in and think they became different people, how quickly they dropped the laughing and teasing in favor of readying weapons. No. They were the same people. Just like a person has a different attitude from talking with friends to walking into work, Vincent and Alastor could laugh and play and tease each other and in less than a minute plunge a blade through a man's neck without a single flinch.
Playful teasing and decisive murder, they were both valued parts of his relationship with Alastor.
What a perfect morning.
...
Vincent stretched his arms above his head as he lounged on his couch. A half-sipped glass of gin sat on the coffee table. Again, with a workday tomorrow he wouldn't let himself get anymore than tipsy.
He could hear the shower from his bathroom turn off. Things had gotten kind of messy today. That man had more fight in him than Vincent had given him credit for. It was nothing they couldn't handle, but it had left them tumbling through a particularly muddy part of the wooded area before finally the guy stopped fighting and went limp.
After transporting the body to Vincent's large freezer in his garage, they took turns showering and changing. Vincent was in some freshly laundered silken pajamas after taking a nice hot shower and Alastor was currently doing the same, though this time he was actually changing into his own clothes, as the day prior he had fetched some of his wardrobe from home to keep at Vincent's for the time being.
And Vincent's mind kept... wandering.
Fuck, how could it not? Alastor was in his bathroom in his birthday suit right at that moment. He swallowed. Why on God's Green Earth couldn't he stop thinking about that? Yes. Men sometimes used bathrooms after each other. That doesn't mean you need to think about what they look like naked!
He'd been no stranger to... observing his business partner. So he's seen, well, his, uh... outline.
And with how long they've worked together, of course he's noticed his, how to put it... derriere... All beneath modest pants, of course.
Alastor's hands were so gorgeous and smooth. If he got out of the shower and used those incredible hands to cup his-
Vincent's face was a warm pink. What. Was he thinking?!
MENDONOTTHINKABOUTEACHOTHERSBUTTS.
He buried his face in his hands propped up on his knees.
He's not a queer. He's not. God forbid Alastor ever found out what he was thinking, he'd probably be so disgusted he'd never associate with him again.
He was lucky enough Alastor looked past his freaky mismatched eyes. He could never be normal, could he? He could never be right. He was just... built wrong.
His dad was right about him. He was right. He-
"We can have the leftover gumbo for supper tonight." Alastor's relaxed and slightly-husky voice cut through his thoughts like the blade used just hours earlier. He was in his own pajamas, striped and crimson, and stood at the entrance to the living room with wet hair partially falling in front of his face.
It was like Vincent instantly forgot what he was spiraling about. He dropped his hands and his shoulders relaxed. "Yeah. Sounds perfect, Al." He sent a pointed glance to his liquor cabinet. "I'm guessing you still don't want a drink."
Alastor scoffed and went to turn on the radio, tuning it to a quiet music station playing some classical pieces. "After that catastrophe with the screwdrivers I think I'll wait a few more days before giving my liver anything else." He plopped himself onto the couch beside Vincent, a few inches of space between their legs, and groaned. "I still only have flashing memories of that night and that's more than enough."
Vincent giggled. He couldn't blame Al for not wanting to get that wasted again, but in turn, there was no way Alastor could blame Vincent for thinking it was adorable. "Yeah, your hangover yesterday looked terrible."
"That's because it was. I haven't had a headache that horrendous in over a decade!" Alastor leaned back and sighed, slowly letting his posture and muscles relax with the music.
Vincent hummed in acknowledgement and took a deep breath, urging his own body to relax alongside his partner's.
There was another comfortable silence. They'd been having more of those recently. Vincent had learned to read Alastor better, now able to tell when it was a 'I'm relaxing' quiet or a 'I'm contemplating ripping out your spine' quiet. Now, it was the former. The two men sunk into Vincent's comfortable couch, letting classical music wash over them and ease the tension in their minds and shoulders.
"I still think playing with the kids this morning was rather reckless." Alastor spoke lazily without opening his eyes. It didn't shatter the silence, rather it invited a gentle conversation to the stillness.
Vincent snorted. "Oh come on, Al. They're just kids." Vincent lightly gesticulated his hand as he talked, glancing his eyes to Alastor's gentle features. "Even if they somehow hear about the murder, and somehow the time and location are announced, and somehow the kids come forward about seeing us, I never gave them either of our names. AND even if they known me as Vincent Whittman from TV, whose gonna believe a couple of schoolkids over me? Kids make shit up all the time."
"You seemed to be having a lot of fun." Alastor snickered, lifting his head back up to meet Vincent's gaze. "The Vincent Whittman, running around and giggling and playing with two little boys, playing 'treasure' and roaring like a pretend dinosaur. Haha! What would the papers say?"
"I don't know, Al," Vincent smirked, eyes focused on a possible reaction. "You seemed to like watching me. You seemed particularly interested when I started calling myself the tickle monster."
Wow. Even if Vincent hadn't been looking for it he would've seen it plain as day. The deep red flush, those wide eyes, that twitch in his grin, the immediate stiff posture...
"Don't say shit like that." His voice was a mixture between a hiss and a whisper.
Damn. Alastor even swore? That was a little out of the ordinary.
A light chuckle. "Whoa, what's got you so worked up?"
He immediately answered, more tension in his jaw than the conversation called for. "Childish terminology like that is... it's- It's infuriatingly juvenile and- and unbecoming of us!"
Now, Vincent had picked up on Alastor's habits at this point in their partnership. One of his habits, which Vincent wasn't sure he was even aware of, was that he spoke with more lengthy and obscure words than normal when thrown off kilter, which was a rare occurrence in and of itself. Vincent's best guess was that he was subconsciously trying to assert his intelligence and superiority when he wasn't sure of how best to approach a conversation or subject.
'Childish terminology' and 'infuriatingly juvenile', while apt, weren't quite Alastor's normal manner of speaking, at least not when he had a solid footing in a conversation.
Vincent didn't doubt that his provided reasons were accurate, more so it proved even further how flustered and out of his element Alastor was, not to mention the stammering.
"You didn't mind my juvenile language while I was playing with the kids." Vincent slowly shifted his position towards Alastor, hands slowly creeping up into the air. "I think it gets to you so bad cause it's something cutesy and kiddy that you can't pretend to be immune to."
Those widening eyes and obvious flinch told Vincent he had hit the nail right on the head. If he let himself he was sure he'd go on a power trip seeing how flustered and out of sorts he could make Alastor with such simple words. Honestly, if he didn't know any better, he'd describe Alastor's current demeanor as shy.
Then that rare vulnerable expression flickered into something defensive and plotting. "Careful, Vincent. Don't start a fight you cannot win."
"I'll die a happy man." Vincent wasted not one second more before launching wiggling claws at Alastor's sides.
His adversary was easily prepared and darted in close so Vincent's hands missed by a mile, instead flying right past his torso. He pressed them both stomach-to-stomach, protecting his own weakest point from contact while he eagerly clawed at Vincent's ribs.
"EEEHEHE- Ahahahahal! Ehehe- Nohohahahaha!" Vincent shrieked and giggled like a little schoolgirl, absolutely delighting Alastor to the core.
It was still embarrassingly childish to tickle his associate like this but at least this was him doing the tormenting and humiliating HIM instead.
The man beneath his fingers growled playfully, a sound he let out similarly when playing with the children this morning, and grabbed Alastor's wrists. He moved forward, knocking Alastor on his back and pinning his hands above his head on the couch cushions.
Alastor scoffed. "Cute, Vincent. But we both know I can escape easily," Alastor lifted his arms out as much as he could and slammed them down to break hold of Vincent's grip.
But he didn't budge.
The pair's eyes widened.
Okay, of course Alastor knew Vincent was stronger, but...?
He put much more effort this time around, even grunting with the strain of yanking on his arms full force.
His wrists stayed in Vincent's vice grip.
What was even worse was Vincent didn't even seem to be using a lot of effort to keep him down.
He, in fact, looked far too relaxed. He had a disbelieving smile that met his widened eyes, like he never couldn't thought himself capable of restraining Alastor. Which Alastor had also believed up until 15 seconds ago.
Just how much stronger was he?!
Vincent's surprise melted into something too familiar... that playful silly grin from earlier today. "Looks like there's no escaping... the tickle monster!"
Alastor bit back the whine that formed in the back of his throat. Oh, he could barely stand the teasing especially now that he truly couldn't force himself free. Before he could fire back a witty retort, Vincent used one hand to begin tickling his belly. His humiliation rang anew as loud snorty laughter poured from him in droves. His cursed pajama shirt was doing remarkably little to block out the ticklish sensations.
There was something about the teasing, the cooing, and the crushing embarrassment they caused, that made him feel like he was floating. The tickling was more electric, more effective, and his belly was almost queasy. It must be that 'butterflies in your tummy' feeling Alastor had heard referenced before. He had to admit, now that he was experiencing it, it was an apt metaphor.
Vincent was now straddling his waist, and even with only one hand holding his wrists Alastor was having trouble doing anything other than uselessly wiggle around and laugh like a drunken fool.
"You're so fucking ticklish. It's adorable." Vincent chuckled, only barely audible over the helpless mirth beneath him. "I'm barely even doing anything!" He switched his touch to a firm clawing motion, more of a scratch, and Alastor's laughter died down to subtle giggles.
That was much more easy to tolerate. It didn't tickle as much, more like scratching an itch. He still wasn't completely immune, as obvious by the lingering titters and snorts, but nowhere near where he had been earlier.
"Huh," Vincent said amusedly before dropping the scratching in favor of a quick and light fluttering of fingers. Alastor squealed and erupted into uncontrollable laughter.
Vincent laughed loudly. "Look at that! The softer my tickles the more hysterical you get! You think a feather would work? I always thought that was myth. How could a feather tickle? Bet the tickle monster could make you scream with a few of those!"
"Stahahaha-" Alastor wheezed silently before taking a deep breath and erupting back into snorty cackling. "STAHAHAHAP SAHAHAHAYING -SNRK- THAHAHAHAT!"
Vincent smiled broadly. "The whole tickle monster thing really gets to you, huh? I've never seen or heard you like this!" He narrowed his eyes and grinned as he took on an overly childish tone, as if talking to a baby. "Can't handle cutesy little cooing? Too ticklish for it?"
Like lightning through his body, he jerked rapidly, teeth gnashing. "VIHIHINCEHENT, IHIHI- SNRK! IHI- SNRK! I- SNRK! IHI SWEHEHEHEAR! SNRK" God, Alastor could barely get through a sentence in this state. He was so deeply embarrassed... and it was absolutely thrilling.
"Pfft, I suppose the tickle monster can leave your cute little tummy alone for now." The attacking hand shifted to gently rub and squeeze his side. Alastor relaxed partially, taking the relief as it were. Sure he was still giggling and snorting and squirming but at least it didn't feel like he was about to explode from laughter anymore. "I can't believe I found someone who might actually be more ticklish than I am."
He had to turn the tides. He couldn't just let Vincent win. Even if Vincent, unfortunately, had him beat in strength, Alastor surpassed him in numerous other ways.
"I assure you I am much less sensitive than you are," Then, quieter, as if he were trying to ensure his words were inaudible, "unless you get my neck."
Too easy. He took the bait.
"Well, gee, if you out your spots like that, how am I not supposed to take advantage?"
Unfortunately for his plan, he was indeed ticklish at that area. Vincent's prodding fingers immediately made him snort again, which Vincent laughed at. Ugh, could this night be more humiliating?
But, now was the time that all changed. He angled his head down and chomped his teeth onto Vincent's hand. Hard.
"OWWWW-" He whined. Alastor gave him no more time before he yanked his head towards the edge of the couch, taking Vincent's hand, arm, and entire body with him and sending the taller man crashing to the floor.
With a level of agility and speed Vincent did not possess, Alastor rolled over and landed precisely on his waist, locating his bottom two ribs in an instant to squeeze rapidly.
Theeere it is, Vincent's shrieking desperate laughter, so hilariously contagious Alastor had to dedicate brain power just to keep from cracking up right along with him.
Those squeals and squeaks, so adorably high-pitched and silly-sounding, made Alastor's belly flutter with something different from before.
The man thrashed like a fish out of water, limbs flailing this way and that, but not making any sort of focused effort to remove Alastor from his person.
He was so obvious.
"All's fair in love and war~” Alastor sang. “You know me well enough by now, Vincent. Did you honestly think I’d let this go without retribution?”
"EEHE- A MAHAHAN CAHAN HOHOPE!" Vincent seemed remarkably coherent considering the force of laughter and the amount of thrashing and kicked he was doing.
"Well, I think your hope has run dry." He switched to those little massage circles he knew from experience drew his associate mad. Sure enough, Vincent tried his best to curl into a ball, a very wriggly one, arms tucked over his torso and knees coming up to pin against Alastor's back as he shrieked and squealed. Occasionally his bouts of high-pitched hysteria would be broken up by small fits of deep and, frankly, goofy-sounding laughter. "Your toolset, as it were, seems to have been cut in half." He glanced at the bitten hand. Alastor's canines were a bit sharper than the average man's, so the back of the hand had a small trickle of blood. Nothing alarming in the slightest, but perhaps enough to burden his dexterity.
"I can tell." Alastor let a few of his own giggles slip out, too amused not to.
"PffteEEHE! COHOME HERE!" Two strong arms wrapped around Alastor and hoisted him back onto the couch before Vincent took off, speeding out of the living room and giggling the whole way.
There was something about Alastor, a natural born killer and predator, lover of the chase... when Vincent's back was turned and he ran away, Alastor's legs propelled him off the couch and towards their prey before a thought could enter the man's head.
His target sprinted into the open bathroom, hand reaching for the doorknob behind him. Alastor most likely could've made it in there, running into the bathroom before Vincent could close the door behind him, but the risk of Vincent slamming the door on Alastor's hand or ankle and injuring him once again was not a risk Alastor wanted to chance. Instead, he changed course and slid behind the wall encapsulating the side of the bathroom, keeping himself out of sight if the door were to open and Vincent were to peer out of it. He stilled, steadying his breathing, and waited.
Vincent, meanwhile, was shuffling through some of his first aid supplies. A little bit of disinfectant (He saw that man lick the blood off a freshly used knife just earlier today. He was not about to chance anything), and some small bandaging, and he was ready to face the music. Though, there was another reason for his running to the bathroom.
A makeup brush sat in the drawer beneath his sink. He grinned, running his thumb through the silky-soft bristles.
He just hoped Alastor wouldn't ask why he had a brush designed for makeup. Women's work, he'd probably say, not to mention the purpose the makeup served for him.
Vincent, ever pale, had a heavy dappling of freckles over his face and neck. Imperfect, distracting, effeminate. He probably would never be allowed on camera looking like that, but if people knew he wore makeup, that would again be seen as womanly. He'd be labelled a metrosexual, also a bad look for a rising TV star.
It was fine. He'd mentioned having younger cousins over. If Alastor asked, he'd just say it was leftover from one of the girls visiting, that it definitely wasn't his.
He creaked open the door with his newly prepared weapon behind his back. He didn't see Alastor, but there was no way he just gave up this little game... right?
He heard him before he saw him, the sound of one single footstep before a red blur bowled into him, sending them tumbling to the floor. Squeaky silly laughter poured from him again as lightning-fast fingers worked to pick apart the nerves across his ribs.
"EEHE- AHAHALAHA- EEK- STOR! OHOHOHO SHIHIHIT!"
He kept his arms glued to his sides as he howled with laughter, knowing if Alastor got to his underarms he wouldn't be able to fight back very well. He kept the brush hidden just below his hip. He needed an in, an opening to turn the tides.
"EEHE- AHAHAHAL! Y-YOHOU STIHILL THINK YOU CAHAHAN BEHEAT THE TICKLE MONSTER!?"
There. Alastor flinched back, eyes wide, face still burning. That was all he needed. He grabbed Alastor and rolled to the side so the smaller man's back was pressed against his chest. His hurt hand shoved Alastor's shirt up to expose his bare belly and he descended his fluttering brush upon it.
Oh, his reaction was delightful. Alastor shrieked at the top of his lungs and exploded into raucous booming laughter brimming with those cute little snorts of his.
"Holy shit! You're so ticklish if an itty bitty brush does this much! Does it tickle-tickle-tickle?" He cooed in his silliest, most adoring voice.
Alastor's response was barely coherent English through a filter of cacking and snorting. His limbs flailed as he thrashed but Vincent's strength kept him trapped against his torso.
Vincent angled his neck to get a good full view of Alastor's face.
Oh, he was an absolute doll. He always wore a smile but this one was massive, genuine, and beaming. His eyes were screwed shut, one little tear of mirth building up at the corner of his left. His face was beat red, always an incredible sight to see. His entire body was wiggling and squirming and thrashing as he laughed helplessly and adorably.
He'd never EVER get tired of hearing those snorts. There was something about seeing Alastor, always poised and gentlemanly, break down into such adorable unconventional laughter.
An idea crossed Vincent's mind, one that made him flush. Alastor's neck was right there, a spot he knew was ticklish. Oh, he could lean down, nibble it, nip at it, nuzzle it, kiss it-
Wait 'kiss it'!?
Vincent's smile faltered.
Dirty little queer. He heard in an all too familiar voice, echoing around his restless mind.
This was all going too far wasn't it?
"Are you," a ragged pant, "quite finished?"
Vincent blinked and looked back at the man in his arms. Alastor had calmed down, smile at a more familiar size and eyes peeked open tiredly. His frame slowly rose and fall with each heavy breath. He must've stopped tickling him while his brain was going haywire.
"Yeah, yeah, uh- yeah." His brain was still scrambling to catch up. Something deep in the back of his skull was nagging at him and he tried to ignore it. "Uh, you must be hungry. We could, um, heat up leftover gumbo?"
Alastor looked confused, almost disappointed, before schooling his features and nodding. "Yes, that sounds fine." He stood and brushed off his wrinkled pajama shirt.
Vincent stumbled to his feet. He just had an amazing time. He had felt delighted, over the moon, then these... anxieties of his started clinging to the front of his mind and not letting go.
The shorter man walked to the kitchen, but not without poking his lowest rib to make Vincent squeal and giggle.
As soon as the laugh left his mouth Vincent's face fell once again.
He had to stop this. This wasn't right. He shouldn't be feeling this way...
...Right?
"Are you actually intending on eating some time tonight, Vincent? If not I guess I'll just eat all the shrimp left for myself!"
A soft smile graced his features once again as he dashed into the kitchen. "Oh no you don't!"
I know you, me, and @rosie-the-nibbler talked about Alastor being feather sensitive, and about Lucifer absolutely wrecking his ass with his wings, but how do you think Lucifer found out?
I think this is best answered with a conversation I (blue) had with @featherstreams (purple) I'll let it speak for itself
And I think the obvious question in Lus mind is 'well if a duster gets him so bad here I wonder just how bad my feathers will be'
Basically the ask was just me raving about their size difference again 😖😖 but appearantly you can't send images on anon so it's REBLOG TIME
Vox always positions himself lower than Alastor, either leaning on something or sitting while Alastors standing etc etc. he doesn't notice he's doing it but it just feels right.
They end up hiding somewhere in a hurry and it's this super narrow passage way or ally or something and they're pressed so close together there's no room to lean down or slouch or anything
And Alastor is whisper complaining about how much room Vincent is taking up but Vin is not listening at all bc when did Als head get so looowwww
I doodled on my phone while I was walking to work so it's kind of shit but DO YOU SEE THE VISION
Also note: alastors arms are the one pressing in around Vincent. Just because he's shorter doesn't mean he doesn't get the stereotypical 'top' pose 😌😌😌😌
quickly sketched out the heights and builds of these two in my fic series
vince seems to cocky and in charge in this sketch but actually he's a smitten little puppy and if he saw alastor shirtless he might pass out probably i dunno
Alastor does indeed not like it being pointed out that he's decently shorter than his partner.
also if you wanna ask "why the fuck do you make vincent so muscular" its cause legitimately in the show, alastor kills by stabbing and dragging a single body through the swamp, meanwhile vincent casually held two struggling grown men up by one cable like it was nothing. in their human forms, vincent is directly implied to be stronger than alastor in canon.
