"laissez les bons temps rouler!"
summary: you had retreated from the party charlie had thrown, seeking solace in your own company, though your lack of presence had been noticed by one sinner in particular...
pairing: alastor x gn!reader.
type: oneshot - fluff.
warnings: reader is a smoker, other than that none.
what originally started as a night of revelry and camaraderie within the hotel had soon dissolved into something far more bittersweet. the night was young, and yet there you were retreating from it all, leaving nothing but an empty spot in the lounge and a few questioning glances in your wake. the muffled speech of your friends slowly faded into nihility as you made your way further through the complex, walls soaking up their words like a sponge to protect you from the conversation that served as a catalyst for your impromptu departure.
the talk of life was somewhat of a sensitive subject for you. each thoughtful reflection, each nostalgic comment uttered amongst the group only served to stir something from within you that made your heart drop upon impact. maybe it was sadness, but such an explanation would be too simple. perhaps it was laced with something more potent like regret, even a tinge of awe as you listened to stories from those who lived decades apart from one another. it prompted you to wonder what the world was like back then, and what the world had become now that you had departed from it. it was a rabbit-hole of unruly emotions you found yourself diving headlong into without the consideration of a thought.
it was when you reached the roof of the hotel your cares melted away, the wind flushing it from your body in one graceful waft of its inviting arms. the late night breeze, cold yet welcoming, offered its silent company as it gently pricked at your nerves, plucking the remaining troubles from your body as you settled on the rooftop. you made your way to the edge, peering down below. the flashy neon of the hotel lights obstructed your view of the hotel's closer outskirts, yet the pentagram far off into the distance could be seen perfectly. settled and with the addition of a familiar view, you pulled out a half-used pack of cigarettes from your pocket, the outer layering of the pack slightly scuffed and worn. you plucked one of the sticks from the pack and settled it back into your pocket. the cigarette was the only thing that remained in your hands besides the lighter now, and so you rested it firmly between your lips and lit it with a few fumbled flicks.
a few drags in and you were already feeling the effects of the nicotine, relaxing into the embrace of quiet seclusion with a mind blanker than your expression as you watched on from your isolated spot on the roof. for a few minutes, it was peaceful. no memories were being elicted from your mind, no words were being spoken to think upon. your emotions had finally come to a standstill, you could finally breathe, until a familiar voice rang from behind, not too distant, though also not too far.
"i take it you ran off here to escape that dreadfully dull conversation? maybe even wallow, dare i say?"
alastor slowly approached you, his form detatching from the shadows he had travelled through to get there. his pace was akin to a predator approaching his prey; dress shoes click-clacked against the roof slowly, shooting cracks of sharp sound through the air. the sound of static he emitted, even while staying silent, hummed faintly around him with intrigue, becoming more discernible as he drew closer still. he finally came to a stop, lingering a few feet away, instantly noticing your look of unfiltered bewilderment at his arrival and comment simultaneously; his grin only grew sharper in response. the smoke of your cigarette ascended, curling around you protectively as though to keep you in your own bubble of serenity. alastor, meanwhile, had other ideas, humming to himself as though he wasn't fully aware he was interrupting your privacy.
"oh, come now! i was under the impression you had thicker skin than that!"
"i'm surprised you care given you weren't really a part of the conversation to begin with."
you recalled alastor not engaging with the nostalgic conversation at all, or anyone, really. he had spent the evening perched above the lounge on the mezzanine with a glass of whiskey in hand, watching on from above like a creepy, red-headed gargoyle. it was normal for alastor to be so detached from the group. you didn't bat an eye at his behaviour earlier, nor did you try to coax him down, and yet he had tailed you to the roof, insisting on shattering your seclusion with his presence that he gave so sparingly earlier on for motivations only known to him.
alastor's head tilted off to the side at your comment, his ears lopping over in tandem with the shift. your response wasn't snappy, you knew him well enough to differentiate his teasing from his mockery, yet it was defensive enough to pique his ever-searching interest - something you had a tendency to capture without even realising it. he coolly placed one foot in front of the other, stepping just a margin closer to you. his scrutinising gaze was enough to indicate that you had been seen through, and he knew clearly your motivations for leaving so soon.
"sentimentality is dangerous, my dear. a slippery slope. place your foot a tad too far off the edge and you'll tumble on down."
the usual fervent static in his voice had died down to a soft purr as he spoke, an audible change in approach, subduing his usual theatrics a notch. you raised your eyebrows at the unexpected word of advice, leaning back against the cooled railing of the rooftop and taking a slow drag of the long-neglected cigarette between your fingers. the long trail of ash that had garnered over time fluttered off of the edge the moment you moved it to your mouth, painting a small patch of the roof in a splatter of grey as it hit.
"it's funny how you of all people are telling me that."
"i beg your pardon?"
"i mean, it's like you're averse to change, almost. anything from your time you favour over everything else."
alastor's ear flicked in mild irritation at your words, though quickly stilled as he caught himself. the only giveaway of his emotions now was the barely noticeable twitching there, an internal struggle to contain the involuntary movements. his annoyance quickly subsided however, replaced with something close to amusement. you. you had a habit of testing him in the most deliciously entertaining of ways; ways that allowed him to dangle the possibility of vulnerability over your head only to snatch it back. a cruel game he engaged in cautiously. sometimes he'd muse to himself, entertaining the idea of permitting you a glimpse of something deeper, more genuine, though he'd perish the thought as quickly as it formed. sentimentality really was dangerous.
"ah! but why favour anything else when the things from my day were optimal? it's a simple matter of fact over opinion, my dear!"
he deflected expertly, his usual unwavering poise overtaking his previous overt display of emotion. you shot him a skeptical look as your arm stretched over the edge of the rooftop, dropping the cigarette butt over the edge. he always spoke so passionately about the 30s - the boom of jazz and radio sweeping new orleans up into a frenzy, the speakeasies busting with life, dance, and music that reflected the culture. it was as personal as you had ever gotten with alastor, as close as you got to cracking his nonchalant, unfaltering exterior.
"so you don't get nostalgia? not even an ounce of sentimentality?"
"i could lie to you and say that i don't, however i indulge in it... sparingly. I don't allow it to have leverage."
your eyes lit up, feeling a small flutter of victory at his confession. it was ultimately a small gesture, yet the weight behind it was grandiose, even if his delivery was as guarded as ever, coated in his unique blend of reservation and cockiness. the fact he had emotional ties was easy to forget, and the admission humanised him in a way you wouldn't dare say to his face. you pushed your weight off of the railing and took a step towards him, the wind nipping at your skin with the movement as though it was as excited over his statement as you were. you wanted to know more, and for once, you opted to press further.
"do you miss the parties? the speakeasies, the jazz... you've talked about that before."
"is this your attempt at prying for more, my dear? if so, you're being awfully blatant about it."
"i'm just curious."
alastor cocked his head to the side once again, taking on an unnatural angle this time and causing a small snap to echo through the air - it didn't seem to affect him in the slightest. his gaze never left you, studying you, considering the appeal in his mind before finally relenting with a hum. he decided to take the bait, to bite down on the temptation of letting himself be that slightest bit more open - just for you. you coaxed that urge in him, something he both admired and shunned concurrently. he both revelled in and loathed the effect you had on him, and up until then he had done a fine job of treading the thinning line between detachment and yearning.
"i suppose i enjoyed them. i'd often grace the speakeasies with some pianism, and when i didn't? canaries would sing, jazz performances, swing bands, dance... much more agreeable than whatever the modern rabble has to offer."
he had stalked closer, speaking low, the static in his voice thinning to near non-existance once more. it was like an attempted shield from prying eyes, not that there were any. he was reserving this for you, for your knowledge only.
"'laissez les bons temps rouler' as we say in new orleans, sha. a popular phrase. one that you ought to adopt unless you'd rather brood alone on the rooftop. frowning can make one wrinkle surprisingly fast!"
"i'm not going to wrinkle! and i'm not brooding!"
"ah, well, i'm just pointing out that it'd be a shame if a youthful thing like you walked around hell looking like an old boo! if you'd like, i'd be happy to show you a touch of how we... ah, 'let the good times roll' in new orleans."
the offer left his lips before he even registered it, inwardly scorning himself for the slip up that betrayed his consistently schooled mannerisms. on the other hand, now that the offer lingered in the air, alastor found himself waiting with newfound interestedness, his stomach flipping with a foreign feeling of eagerness and anticipation that he wrestled with. he didn't retract the offer, nor did he rephrase it, he just... waited.
you on the other hand were taken aback by his description, stunned into momentary silence as you imagined the old-world atmosphere, the carefree dancing, the secretive thrill of residing in a speakeasy, all with the help of alastor's uncharacteristically fond commentary. the picture you had painted in your head soon faded, replaced by buzzing thoughts you hardly had the chance to process thanks to his offer. you stared up at him, a questioning look crossed your features as though mulling over the legitimacy of his offer.
"and if i did happen to want to save myself from these wrinkles and indulge you... how exactly do you plan on doing that?"
"rather simply, my dear, if i may?"
his hand was outstretched, silently beckoning you to take it in your own. the moment you conceded, your skin brushing against his own gently as the circumference of your hand filled the empty gap in his, alastor decided he'd be rolling with the punches for the duration of this little interaction, or rather the punches he kept throwing himself. you had a habit of throwing him off his guard without even knowing, encouraging feelings he never realised he was capable of and causing his typical bravado to falter, to chip and crack subtly. he decided to indulge in you for now, to tempt fate to throw him whatever curveball she had to offer. he had grown daring under your influence.
he pulled you in, closer than he would dare anyone to be to him. his personal space was now yours - a unity of conjoined, comfortable space. one of his hands rested on your waist while the other guided yours around his neck with ease. your free hand soon became interlaced with his, directing it to rest up and beside the two of you. a soft hum of static emitted from him, the kind you'd hear when adjusting the dials on an old radio, before a tune thrummed to life seemingly from himself. his red eyes and gold teeth began to glow in a subtle display, pointing to him as the sole cause for the music. he began guiding you along the rooftop in a slow, rhythmatic dance, something akin to a slow drag mingled with a traditional waltz.
"'you might get better, but you'll never get well.' it's a personal favourite of mine."
he guided your movements with slow, deliberate accuracy, each turn and positioning of his legs having been practiced and perfected a million times before. you let him lead, conducting your body to the rhythm of the music alongside his. you merely followed his lead, soaking up the moment as you further eased against him, awestruck.
"typically, you'd dance to this with a bit more flair... however i don't think guests would appreciate us banging on their roof while they try to sleep, no?"
an excuse. one that he passed off perfectly. in truth, he wanted to savour the moment, to drag it out as long as he could in an attempt to satiate the greed for you that gnawed at him. he couldn't care less about being a disruption, and in any other case, he'd find being so bothersome humorous. but this was you, a moment alone that he rarely had the pleasure of cultivating, and for the first time, allowing himself to get lost in. he felt the instinctive tightening of your hold with every small stutter in your movements, clearly not being as fluent in dance as he was, but that was fine. it was an excuse to do it again, just maybe. he embraced your hold all the same, a man usually averse to touch finding solace in an exception to the case.
"maybe next time, hm? i could teach you the foxtrot, the lindy hop. you have so much to learn. you could count me as jealous, cher."
"you're jealous? i'm over here stumbling over thin air!"
"learning a new dance is an art form, my dear. the feeling of perfecting something you've worked hard to achieve is simply unmatched."
he had lured the dance closer to the edge of the roof, keeping you oblivious and solely focused on your footing. it wasn't until he dipped you over the edge that you were smacked back into reality, yelping helplessly in surprise. he relished in the control, how visible the dynamic became when he witnessed the fear flash through your eyes and felt your grip tense against his desperately. he found it endearing in his own twisted way, and he only laughed before continuing on and pulling you upright, his grin wolfish and tinged with a golden glow as the music flowed through him. you couldn't help but reciprocate his laughter, your safety now ensured and his energy as infectious as ever. he was a potent indulgence, one you couldn't stray from.
"the adrenaline afterwards is just so... ah, well, you can probably feel something similar to it right now."
"you could've dropped me!"
"and yet here you are with me... still able to finish the song."
@ljsometimes - all rights reserved. please do not copy or plagiarise my works.
