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Five years of being partners in nearly every way possible. It hardly feels real. The man Vincent had spent too many nights wide awake and thinking about, the man who he could never get off of his mind, is actually his. Even five years later, he still finds himself marveling at the thought. How did he get so lucky?
Vincent remembers every single date, every night that had changed their dynamic entirely. The night they had agreed to that silly little deal after drinking too much. The first time they kissed. The night Alastor had come over and comforted him on his birthday. They're memories that constantly replay in his mind, things that bring him a sense of joy and comfort even on his hardest days.
As the days of the calendar creeped closer to the day they had truly agreed to be life partners, Vincent has been keeping a close eye on the date and preparing something he hopes would be worthy of everything Alastor has given him. 5 whole years. Vincent is absolutely determined to make sure he shows his deep appreciation and... affection for the other man who's become his entire world.
He pushes his way into the tailor shop, the day of work finally ending and leaving him antsy to pick up the gift he had prepared for Alastor. He had picked out some of the finest silken pajamas he could find, as that was the only thing Alastor was willing to lounge around in and take his suit off for. His instructions were specific, to embroider the initials "AB" onto the chest of the fabric. Alastor’s initials.
It’s a thoughtful gift, he thinks, something classy enough that Alastor should enjoy, perfectly tailored to him and something that will remind him of Vincent every time he puts them on.
Vincent walks up to the counter and taps the bell, looking behind for the clerk. There is a slight hint of nerves rattling in the back of his mind, one the worry that Alastor will actually like the gift, and the fact that he knows the initials won’t match his own.
He’s considered every way he could explain it away if the cashier questions it. Trying to explain that they’re for a woman likely wouldn’t slide, as they’re men’s pajamas. For his father, maybe? But even thinking about the man makes that knot of distaste twist in his stomach. Could he really keep a straight face while lying that it’s for his father?
A man gifting something as seemingly personal as embroidered pajamas is practically a red flag for homosexuality. At best, he'd get fired from his job. At worst...
He’s praying to whatever deity that isn't listening that the clerk doesn’t question it.
His thoughts are snapped away and he forces on a smile as a woman approaches from behind the counter. “Ya picking somethin’ up? Name?”
“Oh, yeah! Vincent. Vincent Whittman. Should be a pair of silken pajamas. Dropped ‘em off last week.”
“Right, right, we just finished ‘em not too long ago. Stay right there.”
Phew. No questions. At least he won’t have to come up with some lie about how he’s definitely not picking up an anniversary gift for a man who he loves more than he thought possible.
The rest of the transaction plays out smoothly, thankfully. Vincent pays, picks up the clothing, and leaves the store with bag in hand.
He can already imagine the way Alastor’s eyes will soften and that smile will loosen in the way it always does when he’s genuinely happy. Not when he’s putting on the performance he does for everyone else. It’s one of Vincent’s favorite expressions, especially when he’s the one who put it there.
Vincent steps into his car and fires it up, excitement of spending the evening with his favorite person in the entire world buzzing under his skin. He can only hope that Alastor will approve of his choice of gift.
Alastor’s day has been less pleasant.
It’s been a terribly long day at work, full of technical difficulties, new producers who were obviously far too judgemental of a black man running his own radio show, and hardly any down time to let the stress roll off his back.
At least it’s finally over. He can finally return to Vincent’s home, take the rest of the night off, and forget about everything that had gone wrong over the course of the last 10 hours.
Alastor fishes the key to Vincent’s home out of his pocket as he approaches the front door, sliding it in and shoving it open with his shoulder. Still dark inside. Vincent hasn’t gotten home yet, as usual.
No matter, it shouldn’t be long before he returns. Vincent prefers driving that automobile around, after all, and so long as he isn’t fiddling around in traffic, it shouldn’t be much longer.
Alastor flips on the lights and sits himself down onto the couch with a heavy sigh, smile loosening into something more tired and exasperated. The scent of Vincent’s cologne lingers in the air, and it loosens something in his muscles. He always did enjoy that smell.
Though there’s a slight twinge at the back of his mind, the thought that he’s forgetting something. Perhaps it’s just the effect of being “on” for the entirety of the day, his mind is overworked and convinced that there’s something else he still needs to be doing.
But he’s certain that’s not the case. Mostly. He’s just tired. Things will feel better once Vincent returns home. Perhaps they can pop open the bottle of whiskey he’s certain is still lingering in the cupboards. Just another typical night with his partner.
Before Vincent even pulls into the driveway, he knows that Alastor is already there.
Alastor has always preferred to walk to work, while Vincent prefers the car. Alastor works closer to the home, so it makes sense, he supposes, but Vincent definitely prefers the comfort and ease of the car. Though, today, the mix of the Friday night traffic and the additional stop to the tailor had put him a bit behind schedule.
Vincent steps out of the car, bag in hand, and approaches the front door. There’s a mix of excitement and a slight hint of fear twirling in his stomach. Will he like the gift? Did he go too far? Will it even fit him right?
No, no, it’ll be fine. Alastor will be happy that Vincent had gotten him something at all. And now he gets to see what Alastor had gotten him in return.
Vincent takes a deep breath and lets a wider smile slide onto his face as he pushes open the door, glancing around to see where Alastor has set up for the night. “Al? You home already?”
Alastor is still sitting at the couch, his legs crossed comfortably and in an uncharacteristic slouch. “Indeed I am, dear. You’re running a bit late tonight.” Alastor’s eyes trail over Vincent, just the sight alone settling all of the stress that was lingering in his mind. Then he sees the bag in his hand. “And what is it you have there? Don’t tell me that the secretary was trying to woo you again.”
Vincent lets a soft laugh escape from his lips and shakes his head. “What? No, she hasn’t tried since the last time I told her I was too busy to go to lunch.” He steps over to the couch, awkwardly extending his arms and offering the bag. “Happy Anniversary.”
Oh.
Oh, dear.
That’s what he had been forgetting.
Alastor never paid too close attention to dates, nor was he particularly sentimental in that manner. Birthdays, anniversaries, it all seemed a bit silly to keep up with. But he knew Vincent wasn’t quite the same in that manner.
Alastor’s smile pulls a bit tighter, looking down at the bag being offered to him. Well, that’s a bit of a problem. He had forgotten entirely, and now he’s being offered a thoughtful gift. And he has absolutely nothing to show for it.
“Oh, my, you shouldn’t have gone to such lengths for me, Vincent! You know I simply enjoy spending time together.” Though, he is curious. What did Vincent pick out for him? He takes the bag and peels it open, rummaging inside.
“It’s nothing, Al. This is what people do, right? They get their… partners… gifts on their anniversary? I just wanted to… get you something.” Vincent is practically vibrating with nerves.
Alastor pulls out the silken pajamas, holding them in his hand and spotting the sight of his initials hand engraved into the fabric. He runs his thumb over the letters, AB. High quality. Likely cost the man a fortune. And perfectly tailored to his tastes.
Despite how sentimental the gift is, it sends that flutter of warmth into his chest. He really had gone to such lengths to pick something out that he would actually wear and put to use, not something that would sit in a cabinet for years untouched.
“This is… lovely, Vincent. Quite the fine craftsmanship.” He twists the fabric left and right, enjoying the softness beneath his fingers. Well, he certainly can’t admit now that he had entirely spaced out what day today was.
He needs to come up with something.
“Now! As thoughtful as your gift is, I’m afraid you’re impeding on the time I’ve taken to prepare yours.” Alastor stands up from the couch, sliding the clothing back into the bag and gently nudging Vincent’s shoulder. “Shoo. I’ll call for you once your gift has been prepared.”
Vincent laughs as he’s shoved towards the door to the bedroom, smile wide on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m going!” This is already going perfectly. He has no problem hiding out in the bedroom while Alastor prepares whatever it is he’s doing.
Alastor watches as the other man disappears into the bedroom, turning to walk towards the kitchen. Well, he certainly can’t go out and buy something right this instant, that would take far too long and make it clear that he planned absolutely nothing. He’ll have to improvise. Surely it won’t be a problem, improvising is practically his speciality.
As he peels open the cupboards, he’s greeted by something less than inspiring.
The shelves are nearly entirely bare.
Of course, he hadn’t made their weekly grocery run yet. It was getting close to the weekend, when the two of them normally stocked up for the week ahead with ingredients for dinners and treats.
But now? There’s hardly any options whatsoever. Not enough ingredients for his trademark jambalaya, no fresh meat to work with, absolutely nothing inspiring.
Wonderful. Now he really will have to work on the fly to try to pass this off as something he definitely planned out and isn’t scrambling to fix.
But, there is one option…
Maybe he can still make this work.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long. It’s a dish Alastor’s maman used to cook nearly every weekend, something that was always on the cheaper end of the scale, something that would always excite a child without taking hours to prepare.
It’s simple. It’s the only thing Alastor could find to throw together from the pitiful choices in the cupboards. He just hopes Vincent will buy it.
Alastor holds two plates in his hands as he makes his way towards the bedroom, holding that practiced smile on his lips. He pushes the door open with his hip, finding Vincent sitting on the bed and waiting patiently.
“And here we are. I’ve whipped up just the thing for our anniversary.” Alastor extends one of the plates towards Vincent and explains, “Pain Perdu.” He uses the Creole term his mother always used, desperately trying to make it sound far more elegant than what’s actually on the plate.
Vincent smiles as he looks down at what’s being offered to him. He’s not familiar with the term that Alastor uses, but this is… French toast. It’s definitely no high quality jambalaya and beignets that Alastor typically offers to him, and he can absolutely see how Alastor’s expression is trembling with desperate hope that Vincent doesn’t question it.
A laugh escapes from him as he takes the plate, looking up at his partner with a smirk. “French toast, huh? I haven’t had this since I was a kid. Definitely not like what you usually make.” He’s starting to get the picture of what really happened, though he’s far from offended. It’s kind of cute how Alastor is trying so hard to pretend that this is some well thought out gift.
“You forgot, didn’t you?” Vincent spears a piece of the syrupy bread on his fork, perfectly happy to eat it regardless. “You don’t have to pretend you remembered. It’s fine.”
Alastor’s muscles tighten as he’s called out, a sigh escaping from his lips. Of course Vincent would see right through the act. The man had far too good of a read on him.
“Oh, very well… Yes, you caught me. The date simply slipped my mind.” Alastor sets his own plate down on the nightstand before sitting on the edge of the bed, some of the tension draining from his muscles. At least Vincent didn’t appear to be upset.
“You could’ve just said that, you know.” Vincent takes another bite of the bread with a smile. Despite the fact it’s so simple, it does taste just as good as everything Alastor cooks. Though, Vincent would probably be happy with anything Alastor gives him.
“Yes, well… You know I’m rather new to this whole… thing.” Alastor shrugs, leaning back on his hands. This is the first time he’s ever been in a relationship like this, certainly never one that’s lasted five entire years. But at least Vincent isn’t upset. That’s all that matters.
“Uh huh.” Vincent takes one more bite of the dinner before setting his plate off to the side, more interested in teasing Alastor than finishing his food right now. “You should at least know by now not to lie about these things. I think that needs some punishment.”
“You do, do you?” Alastor returns the smirk, leaning in a bit closer to Vincent. “And what manner of torture do you have in mind, hm?”
“Oh, I dunno…” Vincent lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers in the air. “I think that tummy of yours could use some tickles.”
Before Alastor even has a chance to think about protesting, Vincent is pouncing on him, pushing him back onto the bed and straddling himself on top of him. “Here comes the tickle monster!”
“Vincent, I swehehEHAR!” Alastor is already dissolving into giggles before Vincent ever touches his stomach, playfully squirming beneath the other man. Though he knows he’s not going anywhere.
Vincent’s fingers move in for the kill, his fingers slipping under the hem of his suit and touching down on the bare skin of his stomach. His fingers begin to skitter and circle against his belly, a maddeningly light touch that always drives Alastor crazy with giggles. “Look at you, squirming already. You’re too ticklish for your own good, piglet!”
Alastor instinctively curls up, though there’s no dislodging the other man’s fingers. “VinCEHEHENT! SNRK!”
Vincent laughs along with him, fingers scribbling from his ribs to start inching towards his navel. “Such a soft little tummy for the tickle monster. Kitchy kitchy coo!” His fingers trace circles around his belly button, never quite touching it, just threatening the idea.
Alastor’s hands fly down to grasp at Vincent’s wrists, nudging at his hands without truly trying to fight him off. Even if he was, it’s unlikely he’d be able to push him away with the determination in Vincent’s eyes. “Nohoho, not-!”
“Not there? Why? Is someone getting a little flustered?” Vincent knows Alastor isn’t truly protesting anyway, it’s just part of the game. And he’s not going to stop now. His fingers start gently scritch scritch scritching at the edges of Alastor’s navel as he pitches his voice into something even more cooing. “What’s wrong? Is someone a wittle ticklish right here?”
That cooing tone always sets Alastor’s skin on fire with a blush, red rushing up onto his cheeks as he wiggles beneath his hands. “Nonono- SNRK! HehHEE!”
“Oh, that’s the worst spot, isn’t it? The tickle monster is gonna get this little tickle spot!” Vincent loves when he gets those little giggles out of Alastor, it’s his absolute favorite sound. His finger dips into the divot, scratching at the rim with the lightest stroke he can manage.
Alastor absolutely loses it with giggles and squirming, far too ticklish there for the imposing man he should be! And Vincent’s tone isn’t helping! He can feel how embarrassingly red his face has gotten.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle, piglet! Who’s my blushy, ticklish boy? Is it you? Is it you?” Vincent traces little circles inside of his navel, his free hand coming to rest on his hip to steady the squirming.
Alastor can barely answer through high pitched wheezes of laughter. “VINCEHEHEENT!”
Vincent delivers a final, far too smug poke to his belly button before pulling those fingers away, though still holding him in place by the hip. “No, no, Vincent isn’t here anymore. You’re at the mercy of the tickle monster!”
Alastor catches his breath, flopping back down onto the bed with heavy pants. “You are… having far too much fun.” He grins up at the other man, affection shining in his eyes despite the protests.
“I think the tickle monster is starting to get hungry.” Vincent leans down to press his lips right up against his stomach, planting a quick kiss there. “Mmm, this looks tasty!”
Of course Vincent wouldn’t give him a chance to compose himself, the feeling of his lips against his skin sending Alastor right back into helpless squirming. “Dohohon’t even think about it!”
Vincent takes a deep breath before pressing his lips just to the right of his navel and delivering a raspberry against his skin. “PBBBBTTT! Omnomnom!”
Alastor’s back arches off the bed with a high pitched squeal and snort, his hands coming down to tangle in Vincent’s hair with small shoves.
Vincent chuckles against his skin at the sound of those high pitched noises, sliding further up his body until his head tucks into the crook of his neck. “Listen to all those piggy snorts! The tickle monster wants to hear more. He’s gonna get you!” He blows another raspberry right onto the side of Alastor’s neck, hand on his hip starting to squeeze and poke.
Alastor shakes his head and curls up, gently nudging at Vincent’s shoulder. “Gehehet awahahay-” The smile on his face is almost painfully wide, enjoying every moment of the ticklish feeling of his lips and fingers against his skin.
“Go away? Hmm… Maybe after dessert.” He sing songs, drifting his fingers across the expanse of his stomach and planting little kisses along his neck. “Mwah! Mwah!”
Alastor snorts as he tilts his head to the side, offering up more of his skin for those soft kisses that Vincent keeps planting there. The sensation is highly flustering, yes, but it’s also making the butterflies stir in his stomach, full of affection for the man on top of him.
Vincent’s fingers finally slow their fluttering across his stomach, coming to simply rest his palm there as he presses another kiss to Alastor’s neck. This is exactly how he wanted to spend the evening. Gifts or no gifts, spending time with Alastor like this is the best ending to the day.
Now that he finally has the opportunity to breathe clearly, Alastor lets out a breath and intertwines his fingers into Vincent’s hair, letting his eyes close with a smile on his face.
They lay silently for the moment, just listening to the sound of each other’s breathing and enjoying the warmth pressed against one another.
Vincent is the one to break it, playfully mumbling into his neck, “You better remember next year. The tickle monster will be veryyyy upset if you forget again.”
Alastor rolls his eyes playfully with a scoff, tightening his fingers in his hair. “Oh, I’ll be sure to remember. I certainly would hate to be the victim of another attack.” If it means that Vincent will do this with him again, and tickle him silly again next year? He’ll forget on purpose.
Vincent lets out a soft huff, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You should try on those clothes I got you. I haven’t gotten to see how good you look in them yet.”
“Mmm. Very well. I suppose it’s the least I can do.” Alastor presses his lips to the top of Vincent’s head, inhaling the scent of his cologne. This had turned out much better than he could have anticipated. Drifting off together in the warmth of each other’s arms, in the comfort of a new gift, no less, is everything he’s ever needed.
And he's perfectly happy to end off the evening in Vincent's arms.