Alastor X Reader: Blood For Freedom

5. Fed Up

*** Your POV ***

It has been a week since you first came to the hotel. You ended up a sort of receptionist, registering the different residents that would come in with their name, time of death, sin, and vice. Since new residents were relatively rare and there was a bell that gave you a notification on your phone that Charlie gave you, you pretty much got to do what you wanted around the hotel, only occasionally hearing a ring and coming over to the front desk.

The employees in the hotel would often eat dinner together, and this time Alastor was cooking. You had heard from Charlie that he was a wonderful cook, making you quite excited for it. So you came downstairs early, lured by the already fantastic smell wafting through the hotel. You made your way to the kitchen, were you found Alastor busy with a bunch of pots and pans.

"Smells wonderful." You noted walking in, "Do you need any help?"

"Thank you dear!" He exclaimed turning to you briefly, "I am alright though, almost done." He picked up a large pot, taking it off the stove to move it to the counter. You saw it before he felt it - the little tweak in his arm before it buckled - and lunged for the pot as he doubled over almost dropping it.

"Careful," You said softly, helping him lift the pot back up, it was hot but you didn't complain, "You should really get that checked out."

"What?" His voice cracked, the radio effect gone for a split second, making you jump as you put the pot on the counter.

"Oh, um..." The atmosphere changed, and you knew instinctively that one - you were correct and two - he did not want anyone knowing about it. "The food, you should have some one try it out." It was a terrible lie and you both knew it, but it was at least enough for Alastor to calm down a little. His regular static effect returning to his voice and he acted like nothing happened.

"Well of course!" He took out a spoon from a drawer, and heaped a big spoonful of what was in the pot. It seemed like a mix of rice, meat and vegetables but you didn't recognize the dish. Alastor brought it to your mouth with one hand underneath it. "Here you go!"

Your face flushed red with embarrassment, but you obliged taking the offering. "Mhhhmmm" you couldn't help yourself, it tasted incredible, "It's good! What is it?"

"Jambalaya! My mothers recipe." He explained putting the spoon in the sink.

"I've never had it before."

"Then its my honor to present you with your first one!" Alastor smiled brightly, though it was clearly quite strained. "Do tell the others its ready for me, won't you?"

*** Alastor's POV ***

It has been a little over a week since the fight with Adam. New residents flooded the hotel, leaving us needing more people. But I had a bigger problem, that I had no idea how to deal with. During the fight with Adam he broke my microphone cane, and proceeded to land a hit right across my chest. I was able to fix the cane with my own powers, though it was tiring and took a few days but the wound was a different story. At first I thought it would heal like any normal large gash, maybe slower due to being angelic in nature, but it wasn't. In fact it was getting worse with each passing day, like me still being alive irritated it.

To make things worse the new girl, you, seemed to be watching me like a hawk. I had to agree with my shadow that somehow you had figured out I was injured, and I did not like that. Not only have I not told anyone, I have done my upmost to make sure nobody would notice. The last thing I needed was someone getting wind of my weakened state, nevermind the fact that I simply didn't want anyone at the hotel to see me like this. I hated my self for getting so careless during the fight, and I hated the fact that I was vulnerable right now even more.

I had to admit I was lucky you were there to grab the pot, otherwise the noise would have alerted everyone and there would be questions. You also were smart enough to back up your line of questioning quickly, so it lead me to believe you weren't new to the Hell scene. But that was ultimately all I knew. Despite your frequent visits downstairs you barely talked about yourself, preferring to listen to other people tell their stories. Which was endearing in its own way, it made my broadcasting itch flare up. But it also left you as a complete enigma. The mysterious image being helped along by your always flowing black attire.

"Ohhhh Alastor this looks amazing, thank you so much for cooking!" Charlie exclaimed grabbing a bowl and a serving spoon.

"No worries dear! Its my pleasure. Do be careful, the pot is still..." I had a little realization in that moment, "hot." You grabbed the bottom of the pot with both hands, right off the burner. The thing must have been hot, enough to instantly burn your hands. I grabbed my own bowl and walked outside of the kitchen to the employee-only dinning room. There you were, in a chair at the end with your bowl in front you, one hand holding a spoon the other laying on top of your head. No burns. Did I imagine it and you actually managed to grab the pot closer to the top?

*** Your POV ***

You waited for everyone to sit down, spinning your spoon around in your fingers, trying to keep your mind off of the little moment of panic Alastor just had. Ultimately, you just wanted to help. It was awful to watch, you never liked seeing people suffer, especially for no good reason. Why didn't he go to a hospital? Or at least tell Lucifer or Charlie? They had angelic powers so they could heal almost any injury.

The pot did burn your fingers, but any marks were gone in seconds, so you didn't think much of it. Finally, everyone had sat down and began eating the jambalaya, it really was wonderful. The spices had a beautiful balance that warmed your insides and felt savory in your mouth, without overpowering or feeling too hot at any point. Every piece of meat and vegetable cooked to tender perfection. The man really knew how to cook, frankly it made your ever growing fascination with him worse.

You kept watching him out of the corner of your eye, he sat closer to the middle of the table between Charlie and an older resident you had met the other day, Angel Dust. He wasn't an employee but was basically considered one due to being close friends with the crew, especially Husker. They were chatting about some hotel related things, when suddenly Alastor responded with a silly pun, "I am not sure about that, it might give the new comers some uncertain-tea" Charlie swatted at his shoulder laughing, and you gripped your spoon a little tighter as you saw Alastor's hand clutch his chest for a brief moment before playing it off like he was swatting back.

You shook your head in annoyance, returning to your food. Suddenly Alastor got up from the table, "Do excuse me dears, I will be retiring. Long day."

"Okay Al!" Charlie piped.

"Thank you for the food!" Vaggie shouted, and many more pleasantries came from the varying employees as Alastor smiled at them all amicably, pushing his chair in.

You watched as he turned around towards the kitchen. One step. His shoulders sagged a little. Two step. His head fell forward. Third step. His whole body started crumpling down but before he could hit the floor, the shadows seemed to eat him up and he was gone in a puff of smoke.

Looking around you saw that nobody else so much as lifted an eye. This kept happening, and you were not crazy. Alastor was in pain, no body seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn't care enough to say something. It made you upset, almost brining tears to your eyes. Yes this was hell, but they all seemed like nice enough people, they all had each others back. You saw as much through out the week. But why was he the black sheep? He couldn't have done anything that awful to anyone here if they all still acted so friendly, but clearly none of them really considered him as a person whose wellbeing needed to be thought after. Part of you wondered if they considered him a person at all, or just someone who was there to do things for them when needed. Pleasantries provided, but ultimately not someone who was one of them.

And you knew that kind of loneliness all too well.

That's it. You thought. I am done with this. I'm fed up. I'm going to find him after dinner. He must have gone to his room to recuperate.

With that you finished your bowl and dropped it off in the sink, running off upstairs without saying another word to anyone.