Impulse & Consequence [RadioDust]

Chapter 8: Fuel to a Flame

It was nearing Christmas when the silence between Alastor and Angel finally broke. A surprising number of people still celebrated Christmas in Hell, though it was totally removed from its religious context and more just an excuse to have a party and drink too much. Alastor had rarely bothered celebrating it since his death, but since he wasn't living alone this time, he supposed a special dinner was in order. Besides, he hadn't made gumbo in some time.

Cooking alone had always been relaxing in a way, if a bit lonely for the absence of his family. He missed being one of five milling about a cramped kitchen while everyone juggled their respective tasks, his mother doing her damnedest to keep things civil between them and put out any (figurative!) fires that might arise. But by the same token, he couldn't bring himself to have anyone who wasn't family in what he now considered to be his kitchen. A silly sentiment, maybe, but an adamant one nonetheless.

That meant he was startled and got a sudden spike of discomfort when someone else entered the room while he was working.

"Hey, Daddy," Angel cooed from behind him, and he gripped the knife in his hand tighter. He'd made it clear to the others that he didn't appreciate being disturbed while he was cooking. But then, Angel had also illustrated that he didn't have much interest in acknowledging anyone else's preferences unless he could gain something from it. "How's it goin' in here?"

"Fine. Do you need something?" the Radio Demon asked, consciously relaxing his grip to keep working. It had been about three weeks since that last night they'd had together, yet the wound was apparently still fresh enough to be irritated by Angel's presence and unctuous tone.

"Just checkin' on ya. I figured ya might be gettin' a little lonely, seein' as how ya ain't been visitin' me lately." When the doe reached his side and started to lean closer, Alastor instantly disappeared into the shadows to travel across the room to the stove and out of his reach.

"Five-foot rule, dear," he said as he was flipping the andouille and chicken he had browning. (Well, it was some kind of bird, anyway.) Angel remained where he was, resting his elbows against the island and his chin in his hands.

"Pff. Since when does that apply to me? I thought you liked havin' me as close as possible," he said with a pout. "Ya sure were set on holdin' me pretty tight a couple weeks ago."

It wasn't enough for him to use Alastor's rut against him while it was actually happening? He had to bring it up again afterward? The buck gritted his teeth as he came back to the island and dragged his cutting board across it to maintain his distance from Angel. "And I told you that after the last time, I would be out of your hair. I'm a man of my word. I didn't want to bother you again."

"Sure, but now ya makin' me come bother you. What's goin' on with you, anyway? Ya mad at me or somethin'?"

"Why would I be mad, Angel?" His knife made quick work of the celery hearts on his cutting board, and he set them aside to move on to dicing onions. Not once did he look in the doe's direction. "I'm just trying to respect your independence, like you asked. What was it you said exactly?"

With a gesture of his knife, his mic manifested at his side to intone in Angel's voice, "Don't make this weird, Red."

"Izzat why ya mad? Ya jealous 'cause I had ta go back ta work?" Angel teased without a hint of remorse. Did he not even realize how miserable Alastor had been after their last interaction? When he didn't answer, the doe let out a dramatic huff and leaned a little closer, trying to catch his eye. "What, now ya won't even talk ta me? That's cold, Daddy."

That word, which had previously excited him so much, now brought about an uncomfortable mix of contradictory feelings. Considering his upbringing, he was conditioned to associate it with family and comfort—but hearing it in Angel's voice reminded him entirely too much of their last night together and his utterly artificial desire. Not to mention the obvious sexual connotations.