In celebration of Easter! Here's a story from Hell!


Alastor had been standing outside the door to Tina's apartment for several minutes. He hadn't stopped thinking about what had happened last night. Somehow, likely without her knowledge, the little bat had gotten him into a state of submission that he couldn't understand. He knew it was due to her flirtatious behavior. What if she figured out that that was his number one weakness? That she could get him to back down with the slightest innuendo?

Now, now, you're being ridiculous, Alastor. She said she was joking and that she wasn't interested in escalating your relationship to that level. This is a professional matter. Like with Rosie. Like with Mimzy. They've teased you about this sort of thing before and you've never let that bother you. Why should this dame be any different?

If anything, he had gained more respect for her last night. The way she had handled his threats, turned his insecurities around on him, talked him into a deal which, honestly, he was satisfied with. All he had to do was keep his hands to himself and she would do the same. Although he just loved getting into others' personal spaces, seeing their embarrassed reactions, it was a small sacrifice to keep himself from being the one whose personal space was invaded.

After dusting off his jacket and smoothing out his hair, Alastor put up the cheeriest smile he could and gave his signature knock.

"One sec, Al!"

She must've been in the middle of making breakfast, as he could smell something cooking. Not meat, but some kind of vegetable, from what he could tell.

As soon as the door opened, he exclaimed, "Good morning, my lovely—GOOD GRACIOUS HEAVEN!"

Fumbling with his staff, Alastor hastily turned away, his face red as he held up his hand to shield his eyes. Tina had jumped back at his sudden outburst.

"The fuck's wrong with you?"

"F-Forgive me, my dear!" he stammered, trying in vain to keep up his usual tone. "I, uh, d-did not realize you were, uh, in a state of undress! I'll, uh, wait until you're ready!"

Confused, Tina glanced down at her outfit. "I am ready."

It was different from her usual attire. She wore a lime green tube top and jean shorts.

"B-But…" His voice clipped in and out as he turned his back to her. "Y-You're showing so much…s-skin! I can see your midriff, for crying out loud!"

Finally understanding, Tina crossed her arms. "Seriously? It's not like I'm in my underwear!"

"You might as well be! It's indecent!"

She couldn't believe he was acting all embarrassed over this. Then again, he was an early twentieth-century man. Women had only just started shaving themselves when he'd been alive.

"Look, I may dress all old-fashioned sometimes, but I haven't been dead for long, and this stuff's in style up top."

"C-Can't you put on a s-sweater or something?" Alastor said, slouching uncomfortably and still refusing to look at her.

"It's hot as…well, Hell today, the air conditioner's out and this perpetual fur coat of mine ain't helpin'! I ain't changin'!"

"At least cover that midriff!"

"For Christ's…" She facepalmed. "You tryin' to tell me you've never seen a naked person in your life, or did ya eat all your victims with their clothes on?"

"It's d-different!"

"How the fuck's it any different?"

"You're still moving!"

After all, dead things couldn't try to tempt him. At least in the sexual way. They couldn't move so suggestively or try to convince him to take his clothes off. It was for this reason he avoided the strip clubs and porn studios like the plague.

Not to mention it was hard enough handling her when she was decent.

"Well, if you're gonna be a big baby about this," Tina said, moving to slam the door, "you can forget about havin' breakfast with me!"

He stopped the door with his staff and pushed it back open. He still had his hand up, his eyes focusing on her feet, which he noted were bare.

"You can look, ya know?" Tina said, placing her hands on her hips. "I don't mind."

When he still didn't look, she threw her hands up in the air and went over to the stove, muttering, "Fuckin' old-timey grandpa."

That got him to lower his hand. "Excuse me! I'll have you know that…"

He trailed off. She was at the stove, her back to him, giving him a clear view of her wings. She often kept them folded up when they were alone, but due to the heat of today, she had decided to fan them out. They were large enough to wrap around her body, though small enough so that she wouldn't topple over.

He cocked his head at them as he shut the door behind him. The wings looked strong, which made him wonder why she didn't properly know how to use them yet. He was sure Husker could give her a few pointers.

Another thing he noticed as he sat at the kitchen table was her waist. Not for the reasons one would think. Without her flapper dress, the tininess of her waist was much more apparent, though it didn't make her look as twig-like as his did. It wasn't an uncommon trait in demons to have a small waist. Especially those who had committed the sins of greed and gluttony in life, as a sort of irony, Alastor supposed. His appetite had been hearty before, but the extra skinniness made it so he was hardly ever satisfied with the amount he consumed.

Was Tina guilty of a similar sin? She didn't seem like the gluttonous type. Had it been greed, then? He thought back on all her gold-digging comments last night and wondered if there was some truth to them. That certainly didn't explain the state of her apartment, however.

The more he watched her, the more used he was to her revealing outfit. It helped that she was doing something so natural as cooking at the stove.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to cook," he said after a long period of awkward silence.

"I said don't expect me to cook," Tina said, using the spatula to flip some brownish patties. "I don't like doin' it very often, but I know a few things. Mama told me I should know how to feed myself, whether I meet a man or not."

Alastor's smile softened. "My mother said something similar. Only she had a woman in mind. Though what is that you're frying? I'm not quite familiar with it."

"Fried green tomatoes. I know you're more of a meat-eater, but Ma used to make these all the time."

He chuckled. "Jambalaya was my mother's specialty."

"Heard of it, don't exactly know what it is."

"Never had jambalaya!" Alastor huffed as if she'd said the most ridiculous thing ever. "That's practically a sin in itself! Perhaps that's why you're in Hell. It's the most perfect blend of meat, rice and vegetables! So long as you add the right amount of spices. I shall have to remedy this cruel injustice to Cajun cuisine and make you a bowl sometime."

"Sounds good. So long as that meat ain't demon, of course."

Suddenly, a red apron appeared on her front. She turned to glare at Alastor, who was humming innocently, tapping his fingers on the table.

"What?" he said. "Can't have you spilling cooking oil on yourself!"

Even though he had a point, Tina rolled her eyes as she scooped the tomato patties onto two plates.

"They don't look very green," Alastor remarked as she set one of the plates in front of him.

"That's cuz they're fried with bread crumbs." She set her plate across from him. "See, we'd pick the tomatoes while they're still green, just before they start to ripen."

He watched her as she turned to open the silverware drawer. She didn't have a lot, just three of each utensil. He tried imagining how she had looked when alive. How much of her human appearance had she kept? He pictured a wingless, less furry version of Tina. But what of her eyes? Surely they hadn't been violet. Had they been dark like his had once been? Had she retained that figure in life as well? Had she been just as alluring to the male population?

When she turned back, Tina noticed Alastor's half-lidded gaze locked on her. Mistaking his thoughts, she slammed the silverware onto the table and leaned towards him. His eyes went to meet hers a second too late.

"So first ya won't even look at me, now you're oglin' me like a creeper?! What the fuck, man?"

Alastor did his best not to acknowledge the breasts that were now at his eyelevel. "You are an attractive woman, my dear, but I can assure you that's not why I'm staring."

She tilted her head in confusion, then straightened herself up. "Oh, I get it. Thinkin' of how I'd look smothered in barbecue sauce, served rare with roasted potatoes on the side?"

He smirked. "Maybe."

Shaking her head, Tina went to her seat. "Think I'd prefer it if you were just a pervert like every other bastard down here."

"Only teasing, sweetheart," he said casually as he picked up his knife and fork. "I'd use remoulade, not barbecue."

She looked at her plate in hesitation. "Maybe I should handle the food for the reception."

Shrugging, he proceeded to cut his food. "Well I suppose it is a small gathering. Do you have any salt?"

She pointed to the cupboard. "Yeah, it's right in—"

A half-empty salt shaker then flew out of the cupboard and into his hand. He hummed nonchalantly as he doused his tomatoes heavily in salt.

"You're gonna have to teach me that sometime," Tina said, pointing with her fork.

Chuckling, he replied, "You wouldn't be able to handle it."

She scowled. "Oh, ya think so?"

"Vodou is a very rigorous practice," he said, raising a piece of fried tomato to his mouth. "It's not a mere set of parlor tricks to entertain your friends with."

"I thought it was 'Voodoo?'"

"Ha-ha! The fact that you don't even know its proper name shows how ignorant you are about it."

"We had a hoodoo man in Birmingham."

"Hoodoo's another thing entirely," he said, waving his hand. "Yes, it also was influenced by African traditions, but takes more from English Protestantism, whereas Vodou takes from French Catholicism."

"Well, I was raised Baptist. So whatever ya call it, Ma warned me to stay away from that stuff. Said it'd drag me straight to Hell."

"Well," Alastor chuckled as he examined his nails, "she wasn't wrong. Shame, really, how Ne—Africans have fallen so out of touch with their culture nowadays."

She stuffed a whole patty into her mouth to keep herself from commenting on that near slip. Alastor took a small bite of his food and chewed for a minute before swallowing.

"Not too shabby, my dear," he said as he began cutting another piece. "You'll have to introduce me to some more Alabaman recipes."

After breaking down the large piece she'd taken, Tina swallowed hard. "So why were ya starin' at me?"

He twirled his fork thoughtfully. "I don't know much about you."

"I don't know much about you. We've established that."

"Do you have a favorite color?"

She paused in her cutting. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I'd like to know what kind of jewelry to get you to wear when we're out in public. It would be more convenient if I knew what you liked."

Thinking that was a reasonable answer, Tina replied shortly, "Purple."

"To match your eyes," he said with a nod. "Perfect!"

He watched as she shoveled another very unladylike bite into her mouth.

"Aren't you going to ask me my favorite color?"

With her mouth still full, she gave him an incredulous look. "Red?"

He glanced down at his suit. "Alright, well-played. What about flowers?"

She swallowed. "Flowers?"

"Don't performers like you have flowers sent to their dressing room? Especially from their gentleman callers? You threw out the roses from Luci, so I suspect those are out of the question?"

Figuring it would do good for their image if he sent her flowers, she replied, "Lilies."

"The funeral flower! Fitting!"

As she took another bite, she noticed he was staring at her again. Then she realized what he was waiting for.

"Do you have a favorite flower?"

"Well, if you must know," he said smugly. "Belladonna! You may know it better as deadly nightshade!"

She groaned. "Why am I not surprised?"

"What about favorite food? What can I cook for you other than bacon and eggs?"

"I'm from Alabama, so anything fried or barbecued. Though honestly, as long as it's not demon, I'll eat whatever ya give me."

"You already know my favorite." He chuckled darkly. "Though if you'd rather not butcher other demons, I'd settle for venison."

Tina threw down her fork. "What exactly are we doin' here?"

He cocked his head. "Whatever do you mean?"

"What is…this?" She gestured between them. "Why do ya wanna know all these things about me? And why do ya want me to know the same things about you?"

His shoulders bounced as he laughed. "Ha-ha! What's the matter, my dear? Has no one ever asked you these things before?"

When she didn't answer right away, Alastor stopped laughing and studied her. Her gaze was directed towards her half-eaten plate as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The corners of his mouth twitched as realization sank in.

"Oh." He then pretended to be preoccupied with his food. "Well, that's…rather sad, if you ask me."

"No, it's not!" Tina snapped. "I mean…what does it matter what my favorite color is? Or what flowers I like? None of that's…important."

"It should be to one who means to court you."

She looked up at his choice of words. He was still cutting his tomatoes.

"I am merely saying, darling," Alastor said almost softly, "if people are to believe that we're in love, we should know all there is to know about each other, shouldn't we?"

Tina blinked. "I…I guess so."

With the rising awkwardness, they continued to eat in silence. Tina had found the Radio Demon to be strange from the beginning with his spontaneity and charming, yet creepy demeanor. Yet somehow, the two of them sitting down to eat and having a conversation about something so mundane as their favorite colors felt even stranger.

It had been just her and her mother for most of her childhood. She had never really learned how to act casually around men, other than her grandfathers and uncles who would often drop by to help her mother out. Every man who had sought her out in adulthood had had one of two things in mind: business or pleasure. Sometimes both.

But no man had ever bothered to ask questions about her. What baffled her more was that he seemed to find her answers interesting. It made sense if he wanted their husband-and-wife act to be believable, but not even the men she'd slept with had been this interested in her personal life. It made her question his motives behind this arrangement.

"So, how many guests should we expect for the wedding?" Alastor said, summoning a napkin once he was finished eating. "Let's see. There's Mimzy, Rosie, Husk, Niffty—I'll introduce you to them all later—and of course, Lucifer and his family. You know, I actually have yet to formally meet his daughter?" He chuckled. "Honestly, I think she's afraid of me. Well, that's all from my side. What about you? Any family you should be introducing me to?"

Shaking her head, Tina set down her fork onto her now empty plate. "Daddy never did a thing wrong in his life. And Mama, as far as I know, is still alive, but she ain't on her way down here." She was quiet for a minute before asking, "And your folks?"

He glanced upwards. "My mother was an angel even in life."

The fondness in his voice surprised her. Then again, she supposed even cannibalistic serial killers loved their mothers.

"And your daddy?"

"Oh, he's right here." Narrowing his eyes, Alastor held up his microphone and tapped it. "Say hello to your future daughter-in-law, Father."

Tina jumped as an agonizing scream emitted from the glowing mic.

"Oh, don't feel bad for him," Alastor said apathetically, tapping the mic back into silence. "He was damned for a reason. And you're a working woman, so he wouldn't have approved of you anyways." He looked back at her thoughtfully. "Mother, on the other hand, might have liked you."

She smirked. "My ma would've kicked ya to the curb."

"Ha! Sounds like a lovely woman! Now," he said as he stood and walked around the table, "before we get on our way…"

Tina didn't have time to react as he wiped some crumbs off her face.

"If we're to be seen in public, you really should learn some table manners." He snapped the used napkin out of existence. "Firstly, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full! It's most unbecoming!" Before she could protest, he squeezed her shoulders. "Secondly, quit slouching! You'll strain your back that way! And get those naughty elbows off the table, would you?" He tsked as he prodded her elbow with his cane. "Honestly, are you Alabamans raised in barns or something?"

Fuming with rage, Tina stood. "What did we say about physical contact?!"

He ignored her as he continued. "And would it kill you to smile, my dear? I realize I'm the only one here at the moment, but that sour expression of yours is hardly pleasant to look at!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said sarcastically, placing her hands on her hips. "I didn't realize my gettin' angry with you was so unattractive!"

"And you most certainly can't go out like that!" Alastor cringed at her outfit. "Why, people would think I hired you for the evening!"

She gawked. "Did you just call me a wh—?!"

"No, no, it simply won't do!"

With a snap of his fingers, Tina suddenly felt a lot warmer. She looked down to see that her green top had expanded into a turtleneck dress, one that went down to her ankles, its sleeves covering her arms. Even her wings were covered, which made it all the more uncomfortable.

"Oh, I know ya didn't just put me in a granny dress!"

Alastor chuckled. "I really thought a comedienne like you would know how to take a joke."

Snapping his fingers, he altered her dress once more. The hemline went down to her knees, but the material was light enough that she could feel a pleasant breeze on her legs. He'd thankfully freed her arms and neck, the dress now held up by straps as thick as two fingers. The back was low enough to allow room for her wings. Alastor had also added a white belt, making the outfit look like something she would've worn in high school.

"You said you were born in the sixties, right?" Alastor said. "Is this close enough to the style?"

Finding no fault in the dress, Tina sighed as she went to get her purse. "It'll do. But next time, ask before givin' me a makeover. Oh, and one more thing." She stuck a finger in his face. "This is my home. I can kick back however I like and I don't need some privileged-ass fucker tellin' me how to behave!"

His head tilted with a sickening crack. "I must also ask that you refrain from using such vulgar language! Mimzy may approve of it in your act, but I think it is most impolite!"

Rolling her eyes, Tina turned on her heel and went to put on her shoes. "Let's just go before I fry you into a green tomato."

"You astound me, my dear!" Placing a hand over his chest, he followed her. "I was under the impression you disapproved of cannibalism!"

Once they were out of the apartment, she went to shut the door. "Who said anything about eatin' ya afterwards? I'm watchin' my figure."

"Oh, I hardly think there's a need for that!" he said, examining her from head to toe.

She was about to scold him for staring again when he said, "Now surely you're not wearing those atrocities on your feet!"

Tina gazed down at the shoes she had ruined the other night and bound together with duct tape. "It's either these or my dancin' shoes, but Mimzy doesn't want me wearin' 'em out!"

Alastor sighed. "Not even married yet and I'm already providing everything for you, I see."

"And just what is that supposed to…?"

She stopped when a red cardboard box appeared in her hands.

"Consider it an engagement gift," Alastor said.

Confused, Tina took the lid off the box and gasped. Inside was a pair of purple velvet flats, the toes decorated with bright pink bows.

"U-Uh," she stammered as she took one shoe in her hand. "Y-You didn't have to—"

"Nonsense!" He held up his hand. "Can't have my future wife walking around with sore feet now, can I?"

Tina tossed her torn flats aside, not caring where they landed, and hastened to put on the new ones. They fit perfectly and after a few steps, she found them extremely comfortable. She was glad he hadn't put her in heels. Not that she minded wearing them for her act, but they made it difficult to run away when needed. They also looked really nice on her tiny feet.

"Um, uh…" She tucked her hair back as she hesitated to meet his gaze. "Thanks, I…guess."

"You're most welcome, my dear!" He held out his arm. "Shall we be off, then?"


The sight of the Radio Demon walking arm-in-arm with a woman was bound to turn a few heads. Tina shrank under demons' terrified and confused looks. Her sensitive ears picked up on some whispers.

"Never thought that guy would find a broad."

"Who would be crazy enough to go with that creep?"

"The floozy must be into some kinky shit."

The feet of the demon who'd whispered that last comment mysteriously caught fire. Well, it was no mystery to Tina. Her tightening grip on Alastor's arm did not go unnoticed.

"Let them look, darling," Alastor said, leaning in to whisper. "After all, we must be seen together."

"Suppose I'll have to get used to it," she murmured.

"Don't you worry your pretty little head, chérie!" Sliding his arm out of her hold, he threw it around her shoulder and pressed her to his side. "As long as you are by my side, I'll ensure nothing ill befalls you! If anyone so much as tries to harm you…well." He pointed back to the demon who was dancing around in an attempt to put out his flaming feet. "Need I say more?"


Alastor hadn't been kidding about having a big house. Actually, it was more like one of those southern plantations in the middle of a bayou. His home seemed to be the only one for miles. As he took her in a rowboat to the house, she noticed strange creatures swimming in the murky waters.

He bragged that he'd created this patch of land and designed the house himself. He liked his privacy, so anyone who would dare trespass on his property would end up as lunch. Either his or that of whatever creatures dwelled here.

As soon as they stepped inside, he placed his arm around her shoulders and ushered her through every room. They were so lavish, and there were so many, and he went through them so quickly that it caused Tina's head to spin.

"This is the drawing room, the sitting room, the living room, the lounge, the parlor…"

Finally able to get her footing, she pushed herself away from him. "The fuck's the difference?"

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "You see, the drawing room is for receiving guests, while the living room is more private and the sitting room is for—"

"Oh, never mind!" Tina clutched her head. "Next you're gonna tell me ya've got more than one kitchen!"

He tapped his fingers together. "Well…"

She threw her hands up in the air. "Fuck it!"

As if she hadn't already felt out of place in this enormous, luxurious mansion modeled after the plantation homes her ancestors had been forced to work at.

Alastor then explained, "It just seems more appropriate to have a separate kitchen for my more…special meals."

It took a second for her to understand. "Oh. I, uh, won't be seein' that one, will I?"

He widened his grin. "Not unless you'd like to."

She held up her hand. "I'm good, thanks."

"Since you are to be my wife, you will, of course, be an honored guest here." He gestured to the many doors as he led her down a hall. "So, you may go wherever you please! With two exceptions!" He pointed to a door at the end of the hall. "My private study, and the cellar."

As he turned to Tina, his glowing eyes indicated how serious he was. "Under no circumstances are you to ever enter these rooms. Not even my maid is allowed in them." He bent down to her eyelevel. "Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

She blinked. "Well, now ya got me all curious. What the hell do ya not want me seein'?"

Chuckling, Alastor booped her nose. "Curiosity killed the bat."

His tone was joking, but the growing static accompanied by echoing screams made it sound absolutely threatening.

"Alright, alright!" She held up her hands. "No study, no cellar! Suppose ya don't want me goin' into the West Wing either, huh?"

He cocked his head. "The study's here in the East Wing, and the cellar is down below."

"No, that was a Beauty and the Beast joke."

He blinked. "I read the story, but I still don't catch your meaning."

"I was talkin' 'bout the Disney movie."

"Are you referring to those Mickey Mouse cartoons? I must say, I cannot see those mice re-enacting such a complex fairy tale."

"Not Mickey Mouse! I mean the…" She smacked her forehead. "Never mind. Keep forgettin' how long ya've been dead." She decided to change the subject quickly. "So, ya have a maid? She live here?"

"She sometimes spends the night, so you'll be seeing her often. Though she has her own little abode not too far from here." He winked at her. "We don't want to give people the wrong impression, you see."

Just then, a high-pitched voice rang out throughout the house. "Al, Al, Al, Al, Al!"

"Ha-ha!" Straightening up, Alastor glanced down the hall. "Speak of the demon and she appears!"

The second Tina turned around, the most adorable little demoness she had ever seen zipped in front of her. The miniature, redheaded cyclops grinned up at Tina with her yellow teeth.

"Oh, Al, is this the little woman you spoke of?!" she exclaimed, hyperactively running around Tina so she could examine her from all angles. "Tina, was it? I'm Niffty! It's so wonderful to meet you! Oh, Al, she's adorable, just like you said!" Tugging on Tina's skirt, Niffty bounced up and down. "Al's told me so much about you! Is it true you have an angel's voice?"

"He said that?" Tina asked, glancing sideways at Alastor.

"Oh, of course! He also says you have a wonderful sense of humor, even if you do swear a lot! And he says you're tough too, but he really, really likes it! I've already started writing fanfiction about the two of—"

"That's," Alastor said, picking up the tiny demoness by the head, "enough of that, little darling." He placed her an arm's length away from Tina. "Perhaps you and Tina should start talking about her wedding gown."

"Oh, absolutely!"

Bringing a measuring tape seemingly out of nowhere, Niffty started zipping around Tina, taking her measurements, even going so far as to climb onto her shoulders to measure her arms.

"Yes, yes." She nodded in approval. "Good, good! You have a very lovely figure, Miss! I'll bet all the boys came flocking to your door when you were alive! Do you have a brother? Is he dead? Is he in Hell too? Is he single?"

Tina barely had time to process the questions. "Uh…n-no?"

"Aw, that's a shame!" She jumped down to measure her waist. "But at least Al's got you now! I've been telling him to settle down for decades, but he's never even talked about any women! Well, except me, Rosie and Mimzy. So imagine my surprise when he asked me to make a wedding dress! Hmm, I know brides usually wear white up top, but red's the traditional style down here. Ooh, you would match Alastor as he wears red all the time!"

As she rambled on, Tina got a look at Niffty's attire. She wore a black neck scarf and a magenta poodle skirt, indicating she'd died sometime in the fifties or sixties. Perhaps that explained how Alastor was somewhat familiar with the style of Tina's time. For a moment, Tina couldn't believe this was someone who belonged in Hell, until she saw the red spots on Niffty's white blouse. Were they polka dots or bloodstains?

"Don't you worry, Miss!" Niffty said, snapping her measuring tape closed. "When I'm through with you, you'll look like a princess on your way to your happily ever after!"

Tina couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "Please, call me Tina."

"Okay, Miss Tina!" She saluted. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask! I'm gonna go get some fabrics for you to look at! Alastor, no peeking!"

As quickly as she'd come, she zipped off. Alastor's cheeks were still slightly red from Niffty's suggestive comments.

"She's…nice," Tina said after a long pause. "Seems more excited for this weddin' than I am."

"Yes, you'll have to excuse Niffty," Alastor said, placing his hands behind his back. "She's such a hopeless romantic, you see, and has been more insistent than Lucifer that I find my," he cleared his throat, "one true love. She was so elated when I told her about you that naturally, I didn't have the heart to burst her little bubble."

"I can see that. So." She smirked at him. "Ya think I have an angel's voice, do ya?"

He waved his hand. "An objective observation from a fellow musical enthusiast."

"Is me bein' adorable also an objective observation?" she said teasingly, placing her hands under her chin as she batted her eyes.

He turned his back to her so that she wouldn't see his reddening cheeks. "Only when you're shivering in fear, my dear."

"Uh-huh." She was still smirking.

"Speaking of music!" He led her to a pair of French doors. "I think you'll appreciate this room!"

The doors opened automatically and Tina gasped as they entered what was clearly a music room. More specifically, a ballroom filled with instruments that were all polished to a shine. Among them was a violin, a trumpet, a saxophone, and a fortepiano.

"You play all these?" Tina asked, stepping into the room to examine each instrument.

"Yes, indeedy!" Alastor proudly declared. "You'll soon find after a few decades that being damned for all eternity leaves you with a lot of free time."

She stopped in front of a peculiar-looking instrument. It was a keyboard connected to…over a dozen furry little toy creatures.

"What the hell is that?" she asked, pointing.

"Furby organ!" he exclaimed. "Built it myself!"

"The fuck's a Furby?"

He shrugged as he twirled his claws dramatically. "These little gremlins humans are passing off as toys up top! They began popping up in Hell sometime last year. I heard their ghastly cries, thought they'd make a delightful little torture device!" He gave her a sly smile. "Care for a listen?"

Tina cringed at the horrible plastic faces staring back at her. "I'd, uh, much rather hear from that piano over there."

"If that is my lovely fiancée's wish!"

She rolled her eyes. "Cut the pet names, no one's watchin'."

"And?" Lifting tails of his coat, he sat down at the piano bench. "Any requests?"

She shrugged. "Just show me what ya got."

Widening his grin, Alastor raised his claws and twiddled his fingers. He brought them down swiftly and began playing a jazzy version of "When the Saints Go Marching In."

Tina scoffed at his choice in song. "Ya tryin' to be ironic?"

"I just like the tune!" he exclaimed, not pausing as he craned his neck back to address her.

His fingers flew across the keys with the expertise of someone who had obviously had years of practice. Tina couldn't help but admire his skill. The song also brought back memories of singing in church with her mother. Comedy was her true passion, but she loved music just as much.

A playful idea then formed in her mind as she sat down on the bench beside Alastor. He glanced at her in acknowledgement before turning his attention back to his playing. He had yet to miss a note. Tina hovered her hands over the higher keys and waited for Alastor to play the "Oh, when the saints" part. When he did, she repeated the notes on the higher keys. Without stopping, he gave her a look of surprise.

"What?" she said as she continued to harmonize with him. "Did ya think I only sang?"

"Not too shabby, my dear." He nodded in approval. "But can you keep up with a maestro?"

She smirked. "Challenge accepted."

Without even taking a breath, Alastor sped up his playing and Tina effortlessly repeated him with only two measures in delay. When he was convinced of her speed, he began rapidly changing songs at odd intervals to see how good her ear was. Surprisingly, she picked up on his test and didn't take long to ease into each new tune.

I suppose she would have a good ear. She is a bat.

The musical battle lasted about ten minutes until Alastor slammed the keys loudly, indicating that this would be the last chord. Tina finished just as strongly, though she was panting from the exertion. There was an eruption of applause from his microphone.

"Merveilleux, ma chère!" Alastor exclaimed, swinging his leg over the bench so that he was facing her. "You nearly gave me a run for my money there, didn't you?"

Blushing slightly, Tina tucked her hair back. "Well, you've clearly had more practice—"

"Which only makes what you just did all the more spectacular!" He took her hand in both of his. "You truly are a worthy musical opponent!"

Before he realized what he was doing, he raised her hand to his lips. Tina's smile vanished the moment they made contact with her fingers. Alastor then stopped and stared down at the tiny hand still in his grasp.

It was only then that he remembered the deal they'd made yesterday. They were in private right now and this definitely wasn't keeping his hands to himself. He waited for Tina to slap him, wrench her hand away, even yell at him, but she just sat there frozen, staring at him wide-eyed.

The taste of her fur lingered on his lips. His thumb absentmindedly stroked the softness of her hand. Without even thinking, he bent down to kiss it again, but Tina pulled it away before he could.

"I was…" Alastor's mouth twitched as he struggled to come up with an explanation.

"Don't…" Tina rubbed her hand as she turned her blushing face away. "D-Don't worry 'bout it."

She figured he had simply gotten caught up in the excitement of their little competition. People often did crazy things while on adrenaline. Besides, it had just been a gentlemanly kiss on the hand. Nothing to get worked up about.

Eager to break the awkward silence, Tina glanced around the music room. Like every other room in the house, it was unnecessarily large and extravagant. Who in the world needed this much space? He hadn't mentioned anyone else living here, and he seemed to only have the one maid. He had said he had more rooms than he knew what to do with. Clearly, he hadn't been exaggerating.

"H-Hey, um…" She bit her lip. "I was thinkin'…my apartment's shit and…you have so much space here, so…I mean it'd be easier if I didn't have to worry 'bout rent or…what I'm sayin' is…"

"Yes?" Alastor batted his eyes innocently.

She grunted. "Oh, you know what I'm gonna say!"

"Yes, but I'd much rather hear it from your lips!"

To be extra cocky, he cupped his hand over his ear and leaned towards her. Tina rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Could I…move in with ya? After the weddin', I mean?"

"Of course!" He clasped his hands together. "You are to be my wife, after all!" He spread his arms out, gesturing all around. "Once we are married, all of this will legally be yours! I'll have Niffty prepare one of the spare rooms for you and you may decorate it to your liking!"

"You sure I won't be a bother?"

"Not at all! So long as you keep out of my study and cellar, of course. And not make too much noise!"

"I'll throw out the bagpipes."

"Ha-ha-ha! You'll certainly make a lively addition to the household!"

"Cause ya keep so many bodies in the basement?"
Alastor shook his head as he laughed harder. "Tina, my dear, you are truly something!"

"Thanks. Now Al, could ya do me a big favor?"

"What sort of favor, darling?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Could ya please let go of my hands?"

Looking down, he realized he had at some point taken her hands in his. He hid his astonishment as he dropped them.

"You haven't forgotten our deal, have ya?" Tina said, returning her hands to her lap.

"Of course not," Alastor said, doing the same.

"I mean…it didn't hurt or anything, but…this is supposed to be a professional relationship, right?"

"Indeed." He pretended to be focused on the ceiling. "I can assure you I didn't…mean anything by it."

"Okay. Good."

"Good."

After a second of silence, Tina held out her hand.

"Shake?"

"Shake!"

As they awkwardly shook hands, Alastor gazed at the demoness thoughtfully. He didn't want to let on just how thrilled he was at the idea of her living here, as he himself was surprised by the feeling. Perhaps it was because of the way they'd played together just now. It'd been so long since he'd played a proper duet with someone. He could see the two of them playing other duets, perhaps with her at the piano and him on the violin or trumpet. Remembering breakfast this morning, he thought of the many other meals they could share together. If he were bored, he could tease a quip out of her. There were a number of things he could do with her here.

Had Lucifer been right? Had Alastor been looking for new entertainment in the wrong places?

"Awwwwww!" Niffty exclaimed from the doorway. "You two are so cute!"

Quickly letting go of each other's hand, as they'd been shaking for quite a while, Alastor and Tina looked at the little demoness with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. She stood there, holding swatches of fabric in her arms as she gazed at them dreamily.

"I was shipping you before, but now that I'm actually seeing you together…" Niffty jumped up and down excitedly. "Ooh, ooh, ooh, I'm having so many fanfic ideas right now!"

"NIFFTY GO CLEAN SOMETHING!" Alastor shouted, Vodou symbols hovering around his head, his voice sounding like a microphone peaking. "BEFORE I CLEAN YOUR BLOOD OUT OF THE MARBLE FLOOR!"

Niffty seemed unfazed by his threat as she giggled. "Okie, dokie! I'll leave the two of you alone then!" She dashed off, only to reappear a second later. "If you're gonna go all the way before the wedding, not that there's anything wrong with that I mean you're engaged, make sure to use protection!"

The Radio Demon was losing his patience as he gripped the bench beneath him. "NIFFTY!"

"Right! Cleaning!"

As she zipped off, Alastor slapped his forehead. Tina looked just as exhausted from the encounter.

"Do I wanna know what 'shipping' is?"

He shook his head. "Pray that you never do."


Turns out the term "fanfic" has been around longer than we'd thought, and the term "shipping" in reference to romantic fictional couples was coined in 1995, when fans started shipping the two FBI agents in "The X-Files." Learn something new every day.

I didn't go into too much detail of Alastor's house. I wanted to leave some of it open for when it's finally revealed in the show, but I imagine it being like one of those big New Orleans mansions.

I actually took a class on West African Religions in high school. There is a HUGE difference between Hoodoo and Vodou (and yes, that's one of the preferred spellings, Vodoun and Vodun are also correct).

In case you haven't noticed, each chapter is named after a song.