[[A brief message to all!

Our (slow burn?) has reached the point of its ignition and there is something I just would like for readers who are here to know. Canonically, Alastor is a aromantic asexual male. In writing this fanfiction, it is my goal to respect this of his character while still placing him in…. unlikely scenarios. I, myself, am a romantic homosexual female. It is my hope that: in my portrayal here of Alastor's predicament within this fanfiction that it does not come across as distasteful or offensive to anyone who may strongly relate to or appreciate the established orientation of his character. I cannot fully empathize or understand the frustration some may have in regarding the perceptions that are made to this but, I still wish to be respectful. If something better can be done with the writing to reflect this, please, let me know. ]]

New Orleans, Louisiana

June 17th, 2001

Juggling the armload of groceries she had, Addie reached into her pocket to dig out her key to her apartment when the door swung open.

"Here, let me help you with that." Alastor said, taking two of the bags from her and stepping aside so that she could pass through the doorway. He was - as he almost always was these days - in radio demon form; but dressed in a black tight-forming, long-sleeved turtle neck and denim jeans. A wide smile spread across his face.

"Hey, thanks." She said, moving past him and going into the kitchen with all that she was carrying. "You're early. Everything go ok?" She asked.

"Actually, yes. I'm just finalizing some paperwork now." He told her – his voice playing to her in radio - following her into the kitchen: he nodded toward the dining room table covered in stacks of glowing parchment along with various quills and ink that were set aside, at the ready.

"Ooooh. Paperwork." She teased, setting everything on the counter. "Sounds like Hell."

"It is." He sighed, setting the bags he had down on the counter and going through them to help put stuff away.

"I got this if you need to get back to it." She told him, opening a cupboard.

"If you really don't mind..." Smiling, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek and went back to the table; his fluffy deer tail - swaying languidly as he walked away - poking out from the hole he had made in the jeans.

This is so fucking weird... She thought. Watching him sit down and slide one of the papers over to review. He picked up a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and she almost snorted. He looked so goddamned domestic; it made her head spin.

For the past six months - ever since she had used her wooden ring to summon him - he had spent more and more time with her, here in the apartment; coming and going on a much more regular basis. He wasn't always around...sometimes still disappearing for hours, days, even weeks at a time but it seemed to her that he was making a point of being there as often as he could; even bringing whatever hellish task he needed doing along with him just to be near her more and more often. She wondered if this might be the consequence to her having used the ring...that he wasn't going away by his own volition, that he meant to force her into sending him away.

It wasn't going to happen. She enjoyed his company far too much.

She finished putting things away in the kitchen, then went to where he was to peek curiously at what he was working on.

"What are all those?" She asked him, starring at all the pieces of parchment he had. Even in stacks, the table was fully covered with documents.

"Contracts and files for contracts...files for proposing contracts, files for keeping and maintaining contracts, files for closing contracts, files for complaining about having to fill out said contract files... it's -" Leaning back, he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. "Tedious."

"No, shit." She said, starring at everything. "Is mine in there?" She suddenly asked, surprised she had thought of it.

"Yes." He sat up straight again. Snapping a finger, a parchment appeared in his hand. He held the paper out to her. She reached for it, almost touching it when - she stopped. Then, withdrawing her hand she looked away from it, looking back at the table. He watched her, curious. "I changed my mind." She shrugged, feeling like it was a weak explanation but telling the truth. "I don't really want to see it."

Not saying anything, he set the parchment aside.

"Should these all be here?" She asked him, purposely redirecting the subject. "I mean...these are supposed to be private contracts, right? Aren't you invading some sort of...privacy...law? Do they have those? In Hell? Wait. Are there any laws in Hell?"

He cackled.

Pulling a different parchment from the table, he held it to her to read. The writing formed and faded across the page, symbols she could not understand spreading all across its surface.

"Wait. Is that Voodoo?" She blurted.

His eyebrows shot up, he was impressed. "It's Vodoun, yes."

"I didn't know there were so many..." She watched as the ruins slowly ebbed away from the page, leaving it blank.

"You would have been able to read yours – in whatever language you cling to. Even someone who was completely illiterate can read their own contract." He explained, before she could ask. "But, you can't read one from another's soul." He told her.

"These are all souls...?" She asked, seeing the stacks of parchment as something new now. She didn't realize he possessed...so many.

"Of course." He told her, watching her with interest.

"Wow." It was all she could manage. "You do stay busy."

He chuckled darkly.

"So...officially changing the subject now. What would you want to do tonight?" She asked, trying to shake off her growing feeling of dread that had creeped up and touched her. "I mean, after….this…?" She gestured to the piles.

"It's really not going anywhere." He told her. Snapping his fingers again; everything he had lain out across the table had vanished. "What did you have in mind?"

"I got some stuff to make gumbo. It's a little early still, but I could get it going." She offered.

"That sounds delightful, Adeline." He said, getting up from his seat at the table. "May I help?"

He was always offering to help her with any cooking. It amused her; knowing he enjoyed spending time in the kitchen more than she ever would.

"Of course!" She told him, happily. "You're better with the spices anyway."

Adeline got started on making the roux to thicken the stew with while Alastor diced at an onion. He had her radio playing the new Wynton Marsalis jazz album; the song "Sunflowers" filling her kitchen.

"Your elderly neighbor – the kind woman living just across from you…she took a rather nasty spill today going down the stairs." Alastor told her, finishing with the onion and reaching for a bell pepper.

"Marilyn!?" Addie gasped. "Is she ok?"

"Yes. A little shaken and sore I imagine, but I'm certain nothing was broken. Her daughter was with her and saw she was taken and seen somewhere just to be sure." He told her; working at the pepper. "I heard them coming back home earlier; there will be plenty of leftovers if you'd like to take some over – see how she's doing." He suggested.

"That's a very kind thought. Thank you." She told him.

"The fall frightened her something terrible and I think my being there - seeing it happen – well, it embarrassed her greatly." He was saying. "I know you have a soft spot for the woman; I was very much the gentleman through her whole ordeal."

Addie gave him a scathing look that he missed; his back turned to her as he continued dicing.

It was true: she did have a soft spot for Marilyn. She was a woman in her upper 80's that teetered and tottered her way back and forth from the apartments with nothing but the happiest and warmest enthusiasm for life. She was always incredibly kind and polite to Adeline – even though she never could remember the neighbor she had lived beside for years. Addie often left their pleasant interactions feeling guilty – knowing that the older woman thought her own aging mind to be the cause to the clouding of her memories.

However, Adeline knew very well that he too had a soft spot for Marilyn. Hell, Adeline had come home – more than once - to find that he was out on their balcony, sharing tea and brunch with the woman. He had told Adeline once about him 'not giving a damn' but she wondered how much damn he actually gave.

"I introduced myself to her – and her daughter - as your 'boyfriend'…" He paused, starting on a bunch of the celery. "I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?" She asked. "Neither her - or her daughter for that matter - are ever going to remember me anyway…" She looked at him quizzically.

"They'll remember me," He pointed out. "When they see us together next, it just might come up…" He shrugged.

Addie shook her head, turning back to finishing up her job with the roux.

So weird…

She really didn't know how much she should be turning-over in her mind when it came to him. Here he was – in her kitchen – helping her make dinner; talking about things like: 'boyfriend' and 'when'… The very same man that disappeared from her life for an entire decade; for absolutely no reason at all – happily chatting about relationship labels and futuristic possibilities. Knowing him; it either meant nothing; meant something; or there was some confusing overlap of both.

Done with the vegetables, Alastor joined her at the stove – using the opposite burner to prep-cook the meats. With the roux ready and everything else done; Adeline combined the ingredients and worked on getting the combination to just the right simmer.

With a bit of his natural flourish, Alastor had the dining table set and ready; producing two glasses of a crisp Sauvignon Blanc wine to pair with their meal.

Finding the right heat; Addie stepped away from the pot so that he could assess the flavor. Tasting it; he tilted his head; his ears twitching as he concentrated on the flavor. Then, he moved for the spices; reaching for what he wanted confidently and expertly adding in just what was required.

With the seasoning done, they both loitered there in the kitchen as the gumbo finished cooking; sipping at their wine. Adeline asked him more about his day; curious to know more about the tricky contract he had to go into town for and resolve earlier. He asked her about her own trip into New Orleans shopping; what potential plans she had for the next several days.

Once the food was done, Alastor moved the entire pot to the table; placing the hot bottom upon thick pads he had previously lain out. He and Adeline enjoyed their meal; comfortably talking. When they had finished, Alastor worked on de-materializing all the things that he had brought to the table before starting on the cleaning of the large gumbo pot. Adeline had moved all of the remaining leftovers into a large, glass dish that she covered with a lid.

"You going to be ok for bit?" She asked him; gathering up the food to take with her.

"Of course." He said; always smiling. He set the pot upside down on a rack to dry. "I should get back to it." Snapping his fingers; his stacks of documents appeared back onto the table. Taking his wine glass with him; he sat himself back down to work. "Take your time, my dear."

"Ok. I'll be right back." She told him; grabbing everything she needed and leaving the apartment.

It was getting to be late evening when she returned. She found him still at the table - a quill in his clawed hand, scratching black ink onto the page he was bent over. She paused; seeing him still focused on the work. She thought about asking him to watch a movie with her tonight, but she knew that he really rather wouldn't. She somehow managed to get him to begrudgingly watch three very old, films: "The Wizard of Oz", "King of Jazz" and "Doctor X" in the past several months. He seemed to genuinely enjoy all three of them immensely; though, she wondered at his…spectrum of taste. He adamantly opposed anything television; however – telling her that it was "truly a ridiculous medium that couldn't possibly stand to be around for much longer anyway". She didn't get his particular vehemence toward it but, whatever.

He then leaned back from the paper he was scratching away at; setting his quill aside and stretching.

"Ah, well, I think I've had my fill of this for one day." He huffed. Snapping his fingers; he sent it all away; the table clear and clean of everything again.

"I could use a shower." He continued, "Care to join me?" He asked her, suddenly and suggestively.

"Paperwork, huh. That's what does it for ya?" She smirked.

"Maybe." He said, smiling coyly at her.

This wasn't the first time he had been the one to suggest or initiate them having sex. When he did though; Addie had a sneaking suspicion that he only did it because he somehow knew she – herself - was considering it. Him, "making-the-move" did not happen so often that it felt like he said something every moment she was feeling…horny…but, neither did it happen so infrequently that it felt like he was trying to avoid it– at least. as much as she thought he might. Also; never did he show any sort of interest in any kind of intimacy when she really wasn't feeling it. There was nothing really foundational to her suspicions; but she felt like: he was only in the mood, when she was in the mood. Again, she reminded herself that she was overthinking. And, really, was she complaining?

"A shower sounds nice." She said; going over to him and taking his hand. She held it in hers, tracing patterns into the back of it with the fingers from her other hand. "But…you're not going to actually get stuck again, are you?"

"Dearest, Adeline." Alastor said, darkly. He stood from his seat; his hand still in hers. "I was not stuck." He told her firmly; pulling her into him, "It was merely…a temporary hinderance."

She snorted, recalling how she had made him more-than-a-little distracted the last time they had showered together – so much so, that his antlers had grown wide enough that he had found himself lodged between both shower walls. He immediately had stopped what they were doing; meaning to wait for his arousal to lessen enough that he'd be able to work himself out of the tight spot. Addie remedied his situation by stepping away; but only after flipping the knob to the shower head – dousing him in freezing water. Howling from the cold and the shock; he found himself free at once but, resenting her for it – he refused to continue with any sensual activities for the rest of that evening. She was sure he had meant it as a form of punishment, but his moodiness only had made the whole event that much funnier to her.

"You, laugh..?" He growled, pushing her against the dining room wall. "…in the face of Hell's infamous radio demon?" Using his long body, he pressed himself against her; holding her firmly there while he purposefully pulled her hands above her head. His restraint was carefully done; his movements were firm but gentle and she knew that if she truly meant to pull or push away from him; he would release her immediately. This wasn't any sort of physical threat to her like that time in the alley…

"I am a great and powerful ruler of souls, my dear. An Overlord. Someone to be respected, to be feared-" His face had darkened; ears curling; his antlers lengthening.

"I'm sorry." She leveled herself with his sharp, green-glowing gaze. "Who are you?"

He narrowed his eyes on her. A growl building deep in his chest.

"If all of that's true then you'd think I might have heard of you…" She went on flippantly.

"I will silence your foolish prattle." He promised her and before she could say anything else; his mouth locked with hers.

Still restraining her gently; he pushed his tongue past her parting lips. Meeting his fervor; she leaned into his embrace; squirming a little in his hold. He sharply – but carefully – bit at her lower lip. Still kissing him: she slowly shifted, lifting her leg so that she was pressing into his groin. Breaking their kiss; he sighed at the contact.

Releasing her, he pulled her with him. "Shower. Now." He growled.

Under the jet of steaming hot water; he took his time with her. Careful not to drive either of them too over-the-edge; he kissed, licked and bit at her in the cascading heat. When she was reduced to shaking with breathy whimpers; he laid towels for them across the bathroom floor, taking her there where he would find no…hinderance; their bodies wrapped tightly together and cloaked in a heated fog. She reveled in these moments; with him. The sex they engaged in had become much less frequent - much less intense in the past months but somehow...more fulfilling.

Even so, they had had their share of…mishaps. She recalled the one night she had tried getting him to "spice things" up with her. She honestly thought he'd be more…open…to the idea of trying something different – something rougher or more depraved. Following her suggestion – whilst naked…in bed – he was surprisingly and firmly dismissive.

"Really, Adeline, must we really make this…degrading for you?" He asked her, his ears laid to the side in obvious discomfort at the thought. "I rather thought we had more than enough…motivation to work with."

"You could at least try some 'dirty talk', Luc." She goaded him. "You may find you might like it."

Sighing, he relented…but when he started saying things like:

"My deepest apologies…"

"Forgive me and my retched manners…"

"Oh, I do believe I am being rather rude…"

…all while taking her from behind; she told him to just 'shut up and fuck her already'; deciding then never to bring it up with him ever again.

Leaving Adeline to a moment of privacy following their…shower…Alastor left her so that she might wash up; brush her teeth and all the things she normally did to get ready for bed. Drying her long, brown hair with a towel – Adeline came into the bedroom; naked, and found him already reclined within the bed, dressed in only his black boxers. Tossing the towel aside, she crawled underneath the covers to join him. Pulling her into him, he held her tightly in folded arms, inviting the promise of a warm and enveloping darkness.

Early morning light found Alastor wandering aimlessly amid the steaming swamps of New Orleans; the marshlands were secluded in a thick and heavy, fog-like mist. Letting himself go, he shifted forms back and forth from whatever long and creeping thing he liked. He wouldn't need to spend much more time out here hunting; his bloodthirsty hunger already very nearly sated. A few more miles, maybe, and he would return to Adeline.

Alastor surprised himself to find that he really didn't hate participating in this new…charade, of his. He had hoped that by being with Adeline more – by spending more of his time by being with her; the intensity of her physical needs would abate somewhat. Lucky for him; he had been correct in his assumption of this. The extra effort and time it took in order for him to be with her more often was well worth the trade-off. He couldn't avoid the intimate moments entirely, of course. but the regular occurrence of them was significantly less than what it had been.

If he was being honest with himself; these moments he now had to face were much, much more bearable; enjoyable even. Adeline and he had had their fair share of intimacy in the last six months; they were accustomed to each other and it made all the occasional awkwardness that still crept into one of their sexual interactions easier to deal with.

In the beginning, Alastor often had periods of frustration or overstimulation during sex. Adeline – having more experience with it - was always very patient and caring in finding ways for him to work around it.

One time – in particular – still haunted him.

They had been going hot and heavy with things seemingly all night; but despite his best efforts he had struggled with his own release. This…bothered him. But, then knowing that it had only made the situation for him even worse. It was enough to make anyone want to run away and join a nunnery, swearing off of any and all other sexual relations forever. You'd think he'd have been happy for the excuse but, he had felt utterly and completely humiliated. All the pressure he felt though; he had placed on himself. Adeline had comforted, calmed and reassured him; telling him if he wasn't enjoying it, they would stop. But, if things still felt good and he wanted to keep going…

Over time, his tolerance adjusted and these occurrences went away altogether.

Apart from his current relationship with Adeline; was his on-going investigation into whatever…passion…he felt growing inside her. That same emotion – that same feeling – he had felt through their connection before was becoming…something. He still hadn't worked out just how he was going to go about sealing this deal; but Rosie's last parting warning to him made him watchful for any signs – any of the smallest hints – that Adeline might be falling in love with him.

He had placed carefully laid traps…choosing to play by the rules of "when in Rome.." and acting the part of urban, modern-day, domestic, doting boyfriend… He commented on the relationship label yesterday specifically hoping to catch some type of a response from her; but there had been…nothing. It was incredibly irritating; knowing that there was something there…that he just couldn't quite place yet. More than likely, she was still waging her own internal battle regarding her true feelings and emotions for him. He wouldn't make heads-or-tails of it until she had done that for herself. Still, he would keep a close watch to any and all developments.

Finding a spry young whitetail buck to satisfy the remnants of his hunger; Alastor finished his hunting and returned to Adeline's apartment. It was mid-morning when he arrived, and she was just finishing up with her own breakfast herself.

"Did you want me to make you anything?" She asked him; washing her dish.

"No, thank you." He told her. "Just a cup of coffee for me, I think."

Snapping his finger; he produced a steaming red mug with "Oh Deer" scribbled across its face in cutesy, black handwriting. Adeline had found the mug in a store front downtown and knew she had to get it for him. He must have taken to it; it being the only mug she ever saw him use anymore.

"Could a girl get some of that?" She asked, sliding her own coffee mug toward him on the counter.

"Of course." He snapped his fingers again and her coffee was ready.

"Thank you." She sighed. "How was…hunting? I assume that's what you were doing…I never really know."

"Hunting was good." He told her. "It's a beautiful morning, out in the bayou."

"I'm sure." She said, nervously.

A long ear turned slightly toward her; but he didn't comment.

"I wanted to ask you…if you'd like to-" She swallowed. "Our Anniversary is coming up." She told him. "And, I'd like to go out – with you – again."

He watched her, waiting for her to continue because he knew she hadn't quite finished.

"Nothing nearly as fancy as what you had planned last year, of course." She was saying in a kind of rush. "But, there's an art gallery that will be coming to New Orleans. It's actually going to be held right on the evening of the 25th. I'd like to go and I'd like you to come with me." She finished, shakily. "If you don't mind."

He was watching her, listening to her, but he was more focused on their connection: what she was feeling. As she was speaking and just as she had finished; he felt that emotion – that feeling – stirring inside her and briefly flaring…

This was it.

The beginning of this…something.

"Why, nothing would make me happier, dearest Adeline."