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Vox and Alastor were sat at the bar, their usual hangout spot. They had been there for hours, and it was getting quite late.
While Vox was used to Alastor having 'a few more than a few' while they were together, he seemed to be overdoing it this night, even for his standards. Alastor hated drunk people, despite his inclination to drink excessively with his friend. While this kind of 'letting loose' would be unorthodox with anyone else, he allowed himself to when he was with Vox. There wasn't really a specific reason, he just didn't feel especially inclined to put on a persona with Vox. He'd rather not think too hard about why he felt that way.
Soft music had been playing in the bar, as it always did. It never seemed to be anything specific, often simply laidback jazz that neither of the two were especially into, nor was significant of any specific time period. Neither of them ever paid much attention to the music, usually being more focused on each other.
Suddenly, as a new song began, Alastor's ears swiveled rapidly in the direction of the nearest speaker.
"My, my, I haven't heard this in a while."
Vox turned his attention to the music as well, noticing its lack of familiarity yet general style being 1920s jazz music.
"This must be from your time, huh?"
Alastor turned towards Vox again, chuckling.
"We really are not that different, my friend! I really don't see why you act like I come from a distant and unfamiliar period of time! You happened to be alive back in the twenties, if I do recall."
"Yeah, I was like twelve." Vox teased.
Alastor seemed to make up his mind on something suddenly, looking slightly more excited.
"Well, no matter, I do quite enjoy this song. Come along."
Alastor grabbed Vox's arm quickly, almost dragging him off of his seat, nearly bringing the both of them down in doing so. He'd forgotten how much he'd had to drink until he had already stood up, and was beyond able to care.
Vox tried to stop Alastor as he began to drag him forward, but it was in vain. Alastor had made up his mind, and Vox was just going to have to go with whatever it was Alastor had decided on doing, all while trying to keep him from climbing on top of the bar's roof.
When they reached a more open, empty area of the bar, Alastor halted, nearly sending them both onto the ground again. Vox looked around, trying to figure out what it was Alastor was so dead set on doing, and realized once Alastor turned so that they were facing one another.
Does he... want to dance with me? Vox thought. He was stunned and wide-eyed.
Alastor raised his left arm lightly, and Vox instinctively lifted his right arm, mirroring him. Alastor then reached his left hand out, grabbing Vox's hand and curling his fingers around it. Hesitantly, Vox did the same, the rest of his body still frozen in place.
Despite his intoxicated state, Alastor took note of how stunned Vox was.
"Goodness, Vincent, what's gotten into you? I'm not gonna bite." Alastor joked, slurring slightly.
He then reached over with his right hand, meeting Vincent's shoulder. He then slid his hand down Vox's arm while gently guiding it to his waist.
"Now, if we're going to do this properly, you're going to have to be a gentleman and hold me, dear."
Vox nodded faintly, still somewhat in shock.
"..Yeah.. uh.. o-okay.." Vox stuttered.
Alastor's smile widened in a reassuring manner. He placed his right hand on Vox's left shoulder.
After settling themselves, the two of them began to dance to the song. Despite Vox's nervousness, he was able to follow Alastor's lead. When Alastor's coordination faltered (due to being inebriated), the two of them continued on. They danced for what felt like forever; once the first song ended, they continued dancing to the tune of the next one, and the next, and the one after that.
Alastor would never admit it, but this moment felt different. Different from his drunken dances with Mimzy, his casual conversations with Vox, Vox dragging him back home, or any other social experiences that would be considered personal. He wondered why he felt this way, why this moment felt so real, so pleasantly vulnerable, so personal, so... almost intimate.
Later on, the memory of this feeling would make his stomach turn. Would repulse him. Make him feel vulnerable, afraid, and fooled.
But for now, this moment was just a moment. A moment that would later become a distant memory chalked up to drunkenness or humane feelings, yes, but for the time being was simply enjoyable.
With Vox, Alastor felt safe.