Chapter Text
Two pans of gravy bubbled on the stovetop, the aroma of sausage mingling with that of fresh biscuits nearby. The window was opened a crack, the air was stifling regardless, but opening it to cook was an old habit. Alastor gave the mixture of flour, milk, and meat a stir, careful not to get any on the stove, humming quietly to himself. Stir. Rest. Stir. Lower the heat. Stir. Rest. The task was one that he'd always enjoyed, and he often found himself in the kitchen like this early in the morning. Especially during this time of year, when he really needed to rest his mind.
An alarm rang out, a happy jingle that grated the mind after the third loop. Alastor's eye twitched at the interruption, couldn't she pick something nicer? Or at least a full piece rather than a repeating riff? It was simple moments like this that he wondered why in Hell he adored her so much.
Charlie stumbled into the room a little while later, hair braided back and clad in a linen sleep shirt and shorts. Summer was coming to an end but the extra heat still sat heavy in the air, draping itself over the population as if to cause more torture. But who was Alastor to complain about the view of long slender legs and delicate cloven hooves? Charlie on the other hand did often complain that Alastor still bundled up, denying her the same privilege. She saw the tufts of fur peeking out from his neckline, she knew he was particularly fuzzy for some reason, and damn it she wanted a good look.
“Good morning, chérie.” The pans are slid off the heat to the back of the stove. He untied his apron, a silly gift from Charlie that proudly stated ‘I'm not a cannibal, I just like finger food,’ and began to plate the biscuits before pouring the gravy overtop. It's thick, rich, and soaks into the fluffy biscuits just the right amount. The demon carefully sets the table and sits at his own meal, careful to select the right one. He made two pans after all, one more catered to his preferences (the apron lied).
The princess yawned, tired but becoming more aware at the scent of breakfast alone. She stretched, the fabric of her shirt pulling up, revealing her pale stomach for a second. “Al, you don't have to get up this early for breakfast. I mean, it's super nice, I love it! But you can sleep too.” She flopped into her seat, eagerly picking up her fork and taking a bite. She stayed focused, eyes never leaving her partner's face even as she moaned at the taste of his cooking.
The deer demon chuckled, a tinge of awkwardness lacing it, “I simply want to make you something nice.” When she gave him a dirty look, though a bit undercut by her cheeks being stuffed full ala chipmunk, he gave in a bit more. “And I admit sleep is eluding me.”
Her eyes widened, “Are you sick? Do you need anything? Maybe a bath?” Her food was forgotten almost as quickly as she'd taken to it in the first place.
“Charlotte, I'm fine. Please. I'd rather not make a big fuss about this.” He pushed at his own food, wiping up gravy with the biscuit, “It's all quite natural this time of year.” The days shortened and the deeper ruby hue of Pride's nights painted the sky for longer each time the sun set. Across Hell demons were preparing for Fall and Winter in their own ways, the animal demons struggling most of all. Alastor hated it.
Charlie was not an animal demon of course, and as much as she loved her people she'd grown up around other hellborns who were also not animal demons. When Alastor said it was normal ‘this time of year’ she was just confused. The wheels turned in her mind, running scenarios. Normal for him? For sinners? For Overlords? For deer- Oh. “It's… one of those animal-y things you get all embarrassed about?” She questions, though she's certain she's right. “Do deer do something in the Fall?”
An ear twitched in response as Alastor slowly swallowed a small bite of his breakfast. Autumn was a time of shame, when his body betrayed him and began to hunger for things he'd otherwise find unnecessary. The longer nights altered his sleep cycle, his hormones altered in turn, and he would be left a mess, ravenous for someone to feed his inflamed desires. He ran his dark tongue across his lips, wetting them, “Rut.” The demon wanted to say more, but his mouth snapped shut, thick with distaste for the very idea.
The princess coughed, face warming at the sudden implications. Alastor was talking about… breeding season? Of course she understood the general concept, but it wasn't one she had ever associated with her boyfriend. She pulled a loose strand of hair back behind her ear, wide eyes skimming over her partner's body before pausing at his face. “Oh! That kind of thing!” She gestures to him, silky button-up red pajamas perfectly fitted without so much as a wrinkle, “Um, it's just hard to picture when you're like this all the time.” An image of Alastor completely riled up comes to mind, acting the perfect gentleman as he politely asks to fuck her. Charlie snorts involuntarily at the ridiculousness of it. And it definitely wasn't making her feel fuzzy and good, nope, she refused to admit it.
Alastor winced at the sound, causing Charlie to realize how it may have come across after his confession. Before she could clarify, her hand already gently gripping his thigh in comfort, he speaks. “It's hardly my favourite time of the year, you know I'm not one for all that hanky panky, but I assure you I'm alright. I have my own ways of dealing with the complications of it.” He sets his hand over hers, his long dark fingers tipped with ruby claws dwarfing her own pallid digits. “I just want to have breakfast, love.” He said softly, eyes genuine as he asked for the subject to be dropped.
The conversation fell away into something easier. Laughing over something they'd done, or debating the merits of a book they'd both read, or even recalling a film or two that Charlie had strong-armed Alastor into watching (“No, Alastor, the Exorcist isn't a comedy.” “But you said it was comedy night, no?” “It was supposed to be, but that was the only movie you’d agree to watch!). It was a nice morning, an easy morning. But soon enough both plates were just about empty and they both had work to do.
Charlie's hand found his cheek, forcing his face towards her in a way that brooks no argument, “Tell me if you need help, I want to help. And for fuck’s sake Al, I would love to do ‘all that hanky panky’ with you if it's what you asked.” She took another bite of gravy, the last on her plate, before standing and giving him a pointed kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so so much for breakfast, hon.” She deposited her dishes in the dishwasher, giving him a little wave as she scampered off to get dressed. She didn't like leaving him like that after what she'd said, but she also knew he was the sort of man who needed to think about things on his own.
Alastor snaps his fingers, a few small shadowy figures getting to work cleaning up the rest of the kitchen as he leaned back in his chair. Of course she wanted to help, that was how Charlie was, but he didn't want to involve her. How would she take seeing him fall apart in such a way? Would he be too rough or too much like the animal he resembled? He couldn't risk it. He would take matters into his own hands as he always did, when his rut started in full swing he would handle it all. He was going to be just fine. Alone.