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“What are you plannin’, Al?”
“You’ll see, cher.”
Angel Dust reached up to adjust his blindfold as it began to slip, giggling softly as Alastor led him by the hand. He walked with confidence, knowing that Alastor would never trip him or walk him into something, free hands hanging as they continued down the path.
“Never thought we’d skip right into the kinky shit, sweetheart, but I’m game if you are.”
“Ha. No.”
Angel Dust laughed again at the other man’s dry response. He knew they’d entered the left turn of Alastor’s hotel room, the earthy scent of the bayou and the sound of chirping crickets and croaking frogs surrounding them as they walked. He’d been there plenty of times, usually for quiet dinners together or nights spent just sitting and listening to the sounds of the swamp, and it was quickly becoming one of his favorite places.
He’d never had someone try and romance him so expertly and he wasn’t shy in telling Alastor how well it worked.
Angel Dust knew none of it was real, of course, an apparition created by Alastor’s magic, but a damn convincing one to be sure. When the Radio Demon left the room or disengaged, so did the magic, leaving it just another hotel room. But Angel Dust felt it spoke volumes of the man holding his hand that he would dedicate some of his power to giving himself just a taste of home down here and that he’d share it so openly with him.
Alastor had offered once or twice to attempt to recreate the streets of New York for Angel Dust, but the spider had turned him down. Alastor had never been there, never experienced it himself… even if Angel Dust had described it to the best of his abilities he knew that it would be slightly off, slightly alien.
So instead he simply enjoyed sharing this part of Alastor, knowing he was one of a privileged few to see this side of him.
He felt Alastor sit him down, adjusting to be more comfortable on the log he’d been perched. He could feel the grain of the bark under his palms and digging into his thighs, the soft dirt underneath swallowing up a bit of his heels as he shifted his legs.
Angel Dust turned his face up expectantly, angling his head in just the perfect way to show the delicate slope of his jaw and the cut of his cheekbone, spine subtly arched to puff his chest out. Even though he knew Alastor didn’t really respond to that sort of thing, he appreciated the gesture of showmanship which suited Angel Dust just fine.
Alastor pulled the blindfold away and Angel Dust blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust. He looked around, recognizing the usual clearing they’d spend their time in, but curiously the table setting and chairs in the middle were missing. The hanging lanterns and fairy lights were gone from the surrounding branches as well, but still the clearing was lit, bright enough to see Alastor standing in front of him, and curiously his gaze went upwards to find the source.
His eyes widened, jaw slackening. Swirls of blue and pink and purple dashed through with the barest hint of yellow and speckled with more stars than Angel Dust could ever remember seeing. The lights twinkled merrily and with almost perfect timing a shooting star crossed overhead.
“Al…”
“You always say how the thing you miss the most about being down here is the stars. Took a few tries to get them just right. They take a surprising amount of magic and concentration, had to take some from other parts of the illusion, but I’m quite proud of the result! Do you like it?”
Angel Dust wrenched his gaze back down, though it took every ounce of him to do so. “You did this for me?”
“But of course!” Alastor smiled wide but Angel Dust could see the soft, open affection in his gaze as he slid into place on the log next to him. “You spend so much time looking up, mon ange, figured I could give you something to look at… especially on your birthday.”
Angel Dust groaned theatrically, “Molly told you?”
“Oh, not exactly.” Alastor chuckled, the static of the laugh track playing behind him.”Though you’d barely taken two steps out of the room before she told me her birthday. Then she made a point to mention how you were twins any chance she had.” He shrugged. “I may be Southern, but I sure ain’t couyon, hard to really miss what she was getting at.”
“Sneaky little shit,” Angel Dust huffed, but the smile on his face was fond. He leaned against Alastor’s side, pleased when the man didn’t tense at all, instead raising an arm to loosely drape around his upper shoulders, and turned his attention back skyward. He didn’t want to even blink, lest he miss out on a second of the beautiful sight above him, illusion or no.
After a few minutes, Alastor spoke. “I did make us dinner reservations for later at Le Papillon, our usual table, of course.”
Angel Dust hummed absently and Alastor rolled his eyes with a soft smile.
“Though I’m sure I can convince them to deliver it here if you’d rather stay in.”
“Wait, really?”
“It’s your birthday, cher, we’ll do whatever you want… though we’ll have to eat on the ground, stars beat out a table in this particular occasion, I’m afraid.”
Angel Dust reached over and took Alastor’s free hand, lacing their fingers together and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Al… really.”
The grip on his shoulder tightened briefly. “Think nothing of it.”
Angel Dust could hear the buzz of Alastor’s stations cycling before soft jazz began to filter out of the ether around them. Sighing softly, he rested his head against Alastor’s shoulder as he looked up at the twinkling lights above them, stroking over the back of the other man’s fingers with his thumb.
Another shooting star passed overhead and Angel Dust smiled.
The quiet nights together were his favorite, after all.