Wow Alastor is crushing hard on Grace at this point. Any guesses as to why he hyperventilated New Year's Eve?

Angel Dust might have some thoughts on the matter ... do they align with yours? Or ... reality, for that matter? Stay tuned!

Chapter 18: Um ... OMG! WTAF?!

Grace had been having some crazy-ass dreams lately; the craziest by far was dreaming that Alastor had professed his love for her. She stirred from said dream only to find him sprawled out beside her on the bed with only a sheet covering him, and practically comatose. He slept so soundly, in fact, that she had to hold a hand beneath his nose just to ensure he was still breathing.

Hoping it hadn’t been a dream and that he was just pretending to be asleep to avoid having been caught making such a frightening and ridiculous statement, she sneaked a hand under the sheet and caressed the inside of his thigh, tauntingly close to his nuts.

Nothing. 

Not a damn thing.

Fucking cruel dream, she brooded. A pox on thee!

She curled up and went back to sleep.

Movement roused her sometime in the early hours of the morning.

Alastor shifted toward her, pulling her against himself and burying his face in her hair with a quiet inhalation. “My dear Little Fawn,” he murmured.

He held her so close and her heart slammed against her ribcage hard enough that she was sure he felt it.

“Good morning,” he said in her silence.

Either he assumed he’d awakened her or was actively trying to.

Grace took a long, deep breath and stretched against him. “Morning,” she replied with a yawn. “How’d you sleep?”

There was a silence so long that she fully expected Alastor wouldn’t answer. But then he replied, “I’ve finally realized the meaning of ‘rest in peace.’”

“Morbid,” she replied with a little laugh.

“But is it wrong?”

She twisted in his arms to meet his gaze and couldn’t help but return his smile. “I suppose not.”

He dropped her gaze in favor of her mouth, tracing her lips gently with the edge of one of his nails. “I love this smile.”

“I love when you give me reason to smile,” Grace whispered.

“I love being the reason you smile.”

“I love that you love that.” I love you. After a few moments listening to the rushing of blood in her ears, she asked, “Do you regret telling me what you did last night?”

“No. Not on your afterlife. Not at all.” He chuckled. “And I love that I don’t!”

God, I wanna kiss you.

She knew he’d invited her to initiate, but she assumed that applied to sex and little else.

Kiss me, dammit.

Alastor caressed her cheek. “Can I interest you in some coffee?”

“Only always.”

“What would you like to wear today?”

Grace blinked. “Pardon?”

“I can’t have you going out into the hotel undressed. Or wearing what you wore to bed. So what would you like me to make you today?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re asking me for my preferences.” Again.

His smile turned sly. “I don’t understand your confusion.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my Overlord?”

Alastor took her face in his hand, pinching her cheeks lightly. Sternly, he said, “Tell me what you want, Grace.”

She swallowed. There he is. “Something pretty. Feminine. Please.”

“Please, who?”

Grace’s cheeks warmed against the press of his fingertips. “Please, Alastor.”

“That’s more like it.”

Alastor fitted Grace in a red velvet dress with a round neckline and puff sleeves that came to her elbows. Its bustline curved downward and gathered just above a vertical line with four rose gold buttons Grace was certain were purely ornamental. It had an asymmetrical A-line skirt that fell to her knees in the front and grazed her calves around the back.

Again, it was not something Grace would’ve chosen for herself but she was maybe starting to come around to Alastor’s taste.

They parted ways at the bottom of the hotel’s staircase; Grace heading for the dining room and Alastor to the kitchen.

It was early enough that she expected she’d be alone at the dining room table but Angel Dust was already there, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

“Hey, Grace. You okay after last—” Angel’s voice tapered off as his gaze followed Grace to her seat.

She glanced at him, her eyebrows arching in anticipation.

“Obviously you’re okay. You’re better than okay. You’re really exemplifying that ‘new year, new you’ thing. You’re positively radiant! Have we finally moved from an ‘I-love-you-watch’ to an ‘I-love-you-warning?’ Did it happen? Who said it first?”

Grace brushed him off. “I ended up having a nice New Years Eve. That’s all.” Were we kissing at midnight? She had no way of knowing but wanted to believe it, silly tradition or otherwise. She abandoned her seat in favor of the one to Angel’s right and she lowered her voice. “He hyperventilated in front of me last night.”

Angel flashed her a lascivious smile. “Doing what, exactly?”

“Me.”

He stared at her in enthralled silence.

“And … the thing is, I can’t figure out why.”

“He must’ve been really giving it to you!”

“That's the thing though. He was going slow and gentle.” Grace leaned closer and whispered, “It was the most sensual he's ever been with me.”

“Yeah … you probably didn’t need to include the ‘with me' part."

“Okay, seriously. If you keep pointing out shit like that to me, I will stop talking to you about it.” Which would probably be smart. Angel’s probably the last soul I should be confiding in!

“Fine,” Angel said with a dramatic sigh. After a moment, he laughed. “If neither of you said the words, maybe that was when he realized he loves you.”

Grace was swept with a variety of emotions. Excitement at the possibility. Disappointment that she knew it couldn’t be true. Fury that Angel obviously thought of it as a joke. In the end, though, she was left with a horribly achy heart. “You and I both know that can't be it.”

They fell silent, and in that silence, Angel Dust gave her the most ridiculous puppy-dog eyes.

She drew in a long breath before blurting, “He’s got the most perfect penis I’ve ever seen. And his nuts? Holy fucking hell are they spectacular. To make any adjustment to his dick ’n’ danglers would be a disservice to a masterpiece. Happy now?”

All grins, Angel replied, “Very happy! Overjoyed, really. Ugh, the irony that god’s most perfect package went to an ace man!”

“I’ve no doubt that was a part of his eternal punishment. Mine, too.”

“Happy New Year, ya rat bastards!” Kofax announced, bounding into the dining room. 

“Hey!” Angel cried in dismay.

Grace followed his exclamation with her own. “What the fuck kind of greeting was that?”

Kofax laughed. “I just thought I’d try something new is all. How’s the new year treating you so far?”

“It’s the best,” said Angel, casting a sly smile at Grace. “I finally got a long-time wish granted!”

Grace rolled her eyes. “If that wish is what I think it is, your wishes are real sad.”

“I disagree.”

“Good morning, Grace,” Kofax greeted her with an appraising stare. “You’re looking … well.”

“The words haven’t been said yet,” Angel Dust interjected. “Or so Grace claims.”

Grace’s blush darkened.

“Care to tell me what—” Kofax gestured toward Grace’s dress. “—all this is about?”

“It’s a pretty dress is all,” answered Grace, self-consciously smoothing down the velvet over her stomach. Her gaze flicked toward the entrance to the dining room as her skin prickled in that tell-tale staticky way that indicated Alastor was nearby.

In his right hand was Grace’s new I ❤️ DIKS mug and in his left was his own OH DEER mug, both with steam curling up and away from them. He took the vacant seat to her right, placing her mug in front of her, and shooting Angel Dust a spectacularly threatening glare, radio-dial pupils, small antlers, and all.

Angel wordlessly put some distance between them, sitting in the chair farthest away with a pointed glance at Grace.

Whatever you’re thinking, Grace thought toward Angel, quit it.

Unsurprisingly, he thought nothing back at her. That, or her telepathy had yet to manifest.

Maybe he’s the telepathic failure, Grace. Ever stop to think about that?

Niffty flounced into the dining room carrying a stack of bowls filled with silver spoons. Not far behind her were Vaggie and Charlie with boxes of cereal, a jug of milk, and one of Grace’s boxes of milked nuts.

As they distributed the bowls, Grace turned her attention to the mug, slipping her hands around it and inhaling deeply. New Orleans style coffee. Omnomnom! She smiled, casting an appreciative glance at Alastor.

He met her gaze for a heartbeat, his smile widening before dropping her gaze in favor of his mug, red blooming in his cheeks.

Grace’s cell, of course, buzzed in her purse desperately.

Against her better judgment, she traded her mug of coffee for the phone and brought up her messaging app, attempting to hide the screen from Alastor’s view.

And since zebras don’t change their stripes, Alastor scooted closer, resting his left arm across the back of Grace’s chair and reading the messages over her shoulder. He pressed the tip of his right index finger wordlessly to the last one. Specifically, the three-letter abbreviation.

Grace mouthed at him, What the fuck.

He rolled his eyes.

Knowing he was continuing to read over her shoulder, Grace had to choose her reply carefully.

Alastor stifled a chuckle.

Angel Dust is typing. The loose cannon of the group chat is typing where Al can see what he says. Angel Dust is gonna say something to embarrass me. Claim he knows I love Al. Mention how I told him Al’s penis is the Mary Poppins of genitalia. At that, Grace turned off her phone’s screen and stuffed it back into her purse.

Alastor regarded her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He whispered in that deliciously dour tone with his lips pressed against her ear: “What is it you don’t want me seeing, Grace?”

She drew in a steadying breath a little louder than she wanted and focused on the coffee in her mug. Drink it. Drink it, and then you can’t talk. Buy yourself some time to think of an answer.

Ha ha, fucking idiot. There is no answer.

Nonetheless, Grace picked up her mug, slowly, so slowly, sipping her coffee. Drag this out.

No. I’m totally not buying myself time. I’m not dragging out anything. I’m simply savoring this delicious coffee is all.

Hard to savor something you’re damn near choking down, but sure, Jan.

He whispered more to her: “How much I love watching you squirm.”

Grace squared her shoulders and set her jaw. As coolly as she could, she whispered in return, “Dream on, Radio Demon. I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but I’m just sitting here trying to enjoy my coffee with you all up in my personal space.”

Tap tap tap tap tap tap! from across the table. Both Kofax and Angel Dust were texting furiously. Considering how much Grace’s phone was buzzing, they were either continuing the group chat without her current, active participation or they were sending her private messages. Whichever the case was, she wasn’t especially eager to read any of them.

She cast a sidelong glance at Alastor.

He met and held her stare, his smile brightening. Whereas previously he’d glance away the moment she caught him looking, now he watched her as if in challenge. As if he wanted her knowing he was watching. As if he wanted her watching him right back.

Alastor picked up his mug with his right hand and pulled his left arm from the back of her chair, dropping it to his side. With a nonchalant sip of his coffee, he reached across Grace’s lap and settled his hand atop her right thigh. Bit by bit, his hand shifted to her left thigh, his thumb crossing the bottom hemline of her dress and feathering over the skin on the inside of her left thigh. His mug pressed to his lips, he murmured loudly enough for only Grace to hear, “Yes. You’re right. Definitely silken.”

Electricity zipped right through Grace’s body like a lightning strike. The lean, the caress, the unfiltered murmur. How could he be so fucking goddamn sexy so unintentionally, so casually, so effortlessly? He couldn’t possibly know he was so sexy and the effect it had on her.

He was going to put her in another, more permanent grave if he kept up this behavior.

“Did you call me a dingbat last night?”

Grace practically choked on that sip of coffee. She swallowed painfully but flashed him an impish smile. “I’d never dream of saying something so disrespectful to my Demon Overlord. He could punish me in ways I couldn’t even imagine for such impudence.”

“I certainly could.” His breath tickling her ear, Alastor added, “And I think I will, you wicked little liar.”

The cereals and milks were past around the table. Niffty was too preoccupied watching Alastor and his Demon-Tamer with a dreamy smile on her face to help herself to any.

Charlie was next to notice the lovebirds.

Then Vaggie.

The former grinned ear to ear as she watched.

The latter? She looked like she didn’t know what to think.

And for a moment, Grace was glad Husk was nowhere to be found. He’d probably be dry-heaving at the sight. Despite herself, Grace couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. She’d always wanted to be one half of a pair that made other people want to puke from their sweetness.

She just never imagined it would be with someone like Alastor, who’d decidedly never had any thought of the sort cross his mind.

Grace didn’t pull her phone back out until she found some solitude in the hotel’s library later on New Year’s day.

All that furious texting, apparently, had continued in the group chat.

Grace knew exactly when Kofax had composed that; she was surprised the fox hadn’t cracked her phone screen with her desperate typing.

Grace then switched out of the group chat to see what the three had sent her individually.

Cherri’s messages came long after the morning’s conversation.

Grace decided against replying to any of them, hoping—but knowing better than that—that they’d already forgotten what they’d witnessed over breakfast that morning. Clearly Cherri hadn’t. In all likelihood, they had a group chat without her and were carrying on about the show.

She took a cleansing breath—or one that was meant to be cleansing, anyway—and put her phone to silent before shoving it back into her purse. Then she stared at the library shelves.

Back when she was alive, this day would have been spent watching the Tournament of Roses Parade. And when she was a little kid, she’d watch the parade and lament not being there in person despite living less than an hour from the parade route.

Such things were not on her parents’ radar.

New Years Day in Hell was, in short, an anticlimactic event. Not that it really wasn’t also in life if you were lucky enough to not be hungover as all fuck—which Grace never was—but she felt unusually alienated today. She selected a book at random from the nearest shelf and left the library, deciding to go read out by the pool.

As she approached the entry near Husk’s bar, she caught the sound of hushed but intense conversation and paused mid-stride.

“Tell her about it,” Husk hissed.

There was a lengthy silence. Grace strained to listen and barely caught a very quiet, very staticky, uncomfortably strained, “I … can’t.”

“Well, then, don’t come crying to me when you inevitably fuck this up,” Husk snapped. “Which you will.” There was a loud, rather sloppy sounding pull of liquid, followed by the sound of a glass bottle smacking against the bar top. “Because that’s who you are and that’s the kind of shit you do.”

Grace stepped into view then, in time to watch Alastor turning away from Husk, all radio-dial-eyes and antlered. His gaze fell on Grace where she stood several yards away.

They regarded each other in silence for a moment.

She swallowed hard and in an attempt to lighten the mood, addressed them both: “What have you been saying about me?”

Alastor’s infuriated smile became a scowl and his face went beet red. Unable to answer, he vanished into his own writhing shadows that dissipated through the floor.

Speechless, Grace glanced at Husk.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me! This isn’t my place to intervene!”

Just when I thought our dynamic changed for the better, Grace thought of Alastor with a small sigh, he has to go and make it weird again.

See you all this coming Sunday, deer friends!

Chapter 20: Not as Planned