[Catch Your Death] (H/azbin H/otel) A/ngel D/ust x A/lastor [1000 Words]
Alastor glanced sideways, a small and amused expression tugging at the corner of his lips as he raised an eyebrow towards Angel, “You know, you didn’t have to come with me,” Voice smooth as he twirled his microphone in hand as they walked.
The pair currently on an outing, Alastor getting the urge to pick up something from his favorite butchers. Angel insistent that he wanted to go, trudging along side.
It was the colder parts of the year, as low of a temperature Hell could get at the least. Instead of blazing warm the place got air could even be referred to somewhat as cold.
And with cold came sickness. Alastor’s glance turning away with a light shake of the head, bemused smile gracing his features.
The two in long coats, Alastor’s more burberry colored with Angel in a Hot pink, vibrancy as always, thick pink scarf wrapped around his neck, covering his mouth and nose.
Angel turning his head with a harsh sharp turn to the side, a muffled sneeze into it. Turning not needed with how his face was practically covered, but doing it anyway. Sniffling with a small groan.
Alastor’s hand resting on his back as they walked, aware of the unfortunate cold that had been plaguing him since before they’d stepped out the door.
As Angel sneezed again into the thick scarf Alastor gently gave him a look, one that read as a reminder that they could turn back home at any time. He himself wasn’t all too bothered by the cold, he was dressed warmly for it.
Angel was too, but even he knew it probably wasn’t wise to be out here.
Angel’s expression changing with a scrunch of the nose, blinking away the blearyness from the constant sniffling. Shaking his head no as he mumbled spoke through the fabric, “What, and miss a chance to strut around with my favorite Deer? Not a chance, babe.”
His voice sounded thick with congestion, the usual sass and charm he usually displayed was almost entirely gone, muted by sickness.
Alastor’s voice crackled with a laugh, spiking as it echoed with the sound of radio static. A grin of amusement. “Well, as much as I admire your dedication, I’m starting to think maybe we should have stayed in. You’re sneezing far more than you’re breathing, My Dear.”
Angel let out another muffled sneeze into his scarf, grimacing as it was feeling more damper and less pleasant by the minute. Another small groan of frustration as he sniffled behind it, Alastor gently turning and hooking a finger between the space, pulling the scarf down so it wasn’t covering Angel’s face any longer. Angel flushing with a glance away.
“... Still, It’s gonna take more than some shivering to keep me down, besides. Who else is gonna keep you in check?” He grinned, voice wavering slightly as he sniffled louder again this time. Feeling his nose ran slightly as he hovered a hand over his face, searching his pockets and failing to hide his disappointment at them being empty. “Ugh, of course I’m outta tissues.”
Alastor paused their walking, eyes flickering over to him with an exasperated smile. and an ear twitch, “Caught in a bind, now are we?” Twirling his microphone again as he leaned on it, reaching deep into the pockets of his own coat with practiced ease, pulling out a neatly folded handkerchief, “Here, Darling.” Offering it to him, glint of amusement evident.
Unfurling it as he looked down at it. “Pink, really? I’m almost afraid to ask.” Voice teasing, but there was a fondness to it as well. Appreciating the gesture a lot more than he let on.
Bringing it up to his face, small inhale with a sharp sneeze, muffled by the sound of the frantic. Pulling it down with a sniffled, blinking with eyes a little watery, “Cute. Matches my eyes.” Glancing over to Alastor, who was looking oddly… Flustered?
Angel paused, glancing down at it again, he looked down at it. Eyes narrowing with a small confused smirk as he examined the embroidered piece, pink with white stitching. Little spiderwebs in the corners. This was custom.
A mischievous glint flashed across his eyes as he grinned towards him, “Wait a sec, what’s with you having this anyway? Ya ain’t carrying it around just for me, are ya?” Alreading knowing, expression playful as he teased. Enjoying the rare moment of Alastor actually looking caught off guard.
Alastor’s composure wavering, a faint hint of red creeping over his features, barely noticeable but there. Looking away as he adjusted his tie as thought it needed straightening– it didn’t, but it gave him something to do as he tried to compose himself.
Alastor cleared his throat, voice a tad stiffer than before, “It’s just so happens,” He began, tone carefully measured, “That I’ve noticed that you frequently find yourself in need of one.” Words almost defensive, albeit the warmth hidden behind them.
Angel laughed, a bright genuine sound that echoed through the street, dabbing at his face again as he sighed with a grin, looking down as he sniffled.
“Aw, Al. You’re so sweet, I didn’t know you cared about me so much” Amused as he continued to beam. “But seriously, thanks.”
At his words, Alastor was able to regain some composure. Smile softer than the usual sharpness, blinking down at the ground at they passed the streets. “You’re most welcome, Dear. Though I do wish you’d take better care of yourself, perhaps invest in a warmer coat? You seem fully determined at attempting to catch your death out here.”
A snicker, “Eh, maybe.” Shrugging at the suggestion, sniffling loudly as he shook his head with denial, “But then, what would my excuse be to keep stealing your cute little cloths?” Winking as he stuffed the piece down the fluff of his chest, right near his heart.
“True enough, shall we? I want you home warm, after all.” Leaning closer as they approached the butchers.
As Angel rested his head on the other’s shoulder with hands entwined, perhaps, being with Alastor was more than enough to keep the chills at bay.
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Because someone was a real one and offered me some much-needed words of kindness, I'll let you in on something I've been intending to do:
Something that has been bringing me great comfort and joy since Ch2's release has been the development of an alternate route in which Spamton ultimately earns a happy ending, spent with his wife and daughter (which of course comes with shenanigans, but that's for later); the idea being that he's cleaned himself up just enough to form connections again to get to that point. Anyone who's been following my stuff for the past few years knows that said daughter is Shirley (but for now, the wife is a secret/surprise).
Although many times, I'll be scrolling through the tags, or something will be recommended to me via my dash or the "related" posts and blogs...frankly some of them, especially the popular ones, feel like they're taking this from me, and it's mostly because it feels like people care more about those than whatever this will be. Like no one will bat an eye in my direction or find it valid because they're so adamant/show a clear preference for how they want Spamton to be portrayed. I'm talking about purely headcanons and fanonical stuff that seemingly everyone has accepted as canon for some reason, to the point that I fear getting dogpiled for daring not to accept or adopt them, because the way I see him is apparently not how most people do.
I know that's not usually the intent, and they're basically off in their own fanon world that I'd prefer not to be part of, but it's things like that which make me afraid no one will care that I'm going in this direction, not those ones.
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