You know, when Alastor was informed a few weeks ago that they’d be going to Japan, he was almost this close to dancing in glee. Because, I mean, oh come on, it’s JAPAN. FREAKING JAPAN, PEOPLE!
Don’t get him started with the anime or the cosplaying conventions itself, but the culture! The sights! The food (just the thought of having the real deal is enough to make his mouth water)! Japan had always been one of the top five countries Alastor had been dreaming and planning to go to someday… and the fact that it was with his mate was worlds better!
But…
Alastor resists the urge to sigh aloud (because William had kicked at his shin a dozen times to shut him up because he’s ruining the kid’s hype) as he slouches in front of the laptop plopped at the dining table.
The screen was showing a rerun of the anime he had already watched from last night but only opted to stare at again because William didn’t know Alastor had seen it without him… because William was busy last night with a hunt that took him all the way to Nagoya.
That’s like, one of the top ten ultimate bro betrayals. Ah well, best to keep his mouth shut about it. What the kid didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
But now…
The door opened, Winters stepping through, not even looking at the two of them even as Alastor’s head visibly perks up at the sight of her, smile wide and mouth opening to say hello… before proceeding to deflate again in his seat when she only went straight to her room, the door closing noiselessly behind her.
Don’t get him wrong, Japan is still awesome.
He’s having a good time, really… it’s just…
Alastor had honestly assumed they’d still have time together to… do just about anything. Even the times they shared a meal together has become nonexistent these past few days.
Was Winters even eating at this point?
Okay, so maybe she was the one who ate half of the brownies (or as William had claimed, never mind the glaringly obvious evidence that were still left on the side of his face) Alastor had made and left in the fridge for them but that’s beside the point. That’s not even real food and in no way substitutes for dinner.
Her bedroom door opens again.
This time, Alastor tries not to look too obvious that he had been watching her at this point as she grabs the coat she had left hanging by the living room before putting it on, the buttons swiftly being moved to proper place with gloved fingers as she paces back… then, his gaze strayed on the sword tied at her waist.
Thanatos.
The god of death.
…it still boggled him, no matter how much he had tried to wrack his brain because how the actual fuck can an actual deity managed to be sealed inside a weapon. And as her sword, nonetheless. I mean, like, why is that? How the hell did that one happen? Wasn’t Thanatos supposed to be the god of the underworld’s right-hand man or something?
Is Thanatos awake or even sentient at this point?
But now that Alastor was closely looking at it, he also couldn’t help but think Thanatos looked sort of different compared to how he had first seen it, so many weeks ago.
He couldn’t be too sure but for some reason, Thanatos almost looked like a katana compared to how it used to appear as a medium length xiphos… oh, and for those who didn’t know what a xiphos is, that would be a double-edged, one-handed Iron Age straight short sword that was used by the ancient Greeks. It was said to be a secondary battlefield weapon for the Greek armies after the dory or javelin.
…HA! Take that, Sean!
Alastor did learn something from history class.
A-ahem… anyway…
Okay. So maybe Thanatos does kind of looked like a real katana (or had it formed to look like one?) no different than the one the anime character William was watching was swinging fancily around really.
The scabbard is as black as the rest of her outfit, too. It was probably made of traditional lacquered wood from what Alastor’s nose can tell, and it features several floral ornaments on its far end… the red spider lilies easily catching his eye with how vibrant its shade is, almost looking like a drop of blood against all that black.
And seemingly the only color on Thanatos.
Winters had never raised that weapon against him, he remembered, even when they had first met. After she had used it to finish off the rest of the hiding empousai, she was only holding on to it for a short time.
Or it was sheathed at her side.
…and as Alastor mused about this thought, he nearly missed the door closing behind Winters again, the floral ornament on her sword’s handle clinking together, like windchimes as she moved, coat fluttering behind her.
Alastor crossed his arms.
They’re literally living together on the same roof now and he can’t even make himself start a conversation. How is it that it feels like he’s taken one step forward and two steps backwards with her?
He sighs, deflating a bit…
Only to receive an elbow jamming painfully at his ribs.
“Ack–!” he wheezed, grabbing his throbbing side as he hurriedly leans away from the kid who hasn’t even looked away from the screen, “Kid! What the hell was that for?!”
“You’re killing the mood.”
“Screw you, that hurts!”
A scoff, “Don’t be a baby, you heal quick.”
“It still hurts, you dumbass!”
“The hell you keep sighing for then?” William grumbled.
Alastor gave him the stink eye, “Dude, I was just breathing,”
The kid snorted, already moving on to another anime since that had been the most recent episode, “Yeah, right. You didn’t have to make it sound like someone just died.”
Alastor’s brows furrowed at that.
Seriously. What’s with that weird analogy?
“…Are you always this morbid?”
“Are you always this dramatic?” William retorted.
“Oh, shut it,” Alastor groused as he stood up to head off towards the fridge, the throbbing on his ribs already a dull ache by then.
Time for something sweet since they just literally finished off the last of their stash of potato chips. Well, that... and Alastor really needs something sweet to indulge his taste buds in so that he can distract himself from the gnawing loneliness. Which was weird because he wasn’t really alone.
Hm, anyway.
Between him and William, the bundle of junk foods they just brought didn’t stand a chance while they were busy binge watching (or William was watching, and Alastor was just there to sulk about the lack of progress in his love life) … it was almost a miracle how come Winters hasn’t caught them for eating too much unhealthy foods.
“Hey, Al. Get me my apple juice!” William calls, his face barely illuminated by the screen’s faint light, making a splash of barely visible colors playing against his fair skin.
“Go get it yourself,” Alastor mutters.
“Thank you!”
“Ugh,” Alastor rolls his eyes although his lips were twitching into an amused smirk as he easily locates the bottle of apple juice for the kid, “Well, what’s the magic word?”
“Now?”
Alastor chuckles before throwing it at him.
But William easily catches it, “Nice try.”
Smirking, Alastor waves him off dismissively before sticking out his hand and grabbing where he had last remembered putting his extra-large bottle of strawberry milk on.
The problem is, he got nothing.
He stares, first at his empty hand then at the definitely empty space where the bottle of strawberry milk he just brought this morning was supposed to be on, the sounds of William’s anime vaguely registering in his ears.
Wait. Why does he get nothing?
“What,” Alastor mutters, a sound of complete and utter confusion, before he promptly sticks his head inside the fridge to get a better look, neck turning left and right, “What the HEL.. M… MY STRAWBERRY MILK?!”
William glanced up with a frown, “Your what?”
“My strawberry milk! It’s gone!” he cried as he sharply wrenched himself off of the fridge, not even reacting when he bumped his head on the top. Then, he whirled around to glare at William, “Who the fuck stole my drink?!” Alastor fumed, his booming voice practically an echoing thunder in the room.
Moments like this, whenever Alastor’s admittedly short temper blows off the lid, instantly reminds William of the fact that for all the former Alpha of the Northern pack being a surprisingly good company (and a good baker; man, that ice cream cake was divine), Alastor Nyx was still the kind of guy you most certainly, would definitely not want as an enemy.
Even if it’s over a drink.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
“Uh… but it wasn’t me?” William tried as he hurriedly paused his anime. Wouldn’t want to miss a single scene, after all. Then, he raised his bottle of apple juice and waves it pointedly in Alastor’s direction, “I have this, remember?”
“Well, sure but if it’s not you then WHO?!”
“Look man, I don’t know!”
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?!”
“What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?” William demanded as he threw his arms up in exasperation, “I LEGIT DON’T KNOW!”
Had the two of them not been screaming their heads off, they would have definitely heard (or in Alastor’s case, had he paid attention) a soft thud resounding somewhere in Winters’ room, like a book dropping, as Alastor jabbed an accusing finger in William’s direction:
“That’s real sus, buddy!” Alastor seethes, “You’re our resident sweet tooth here. Don’t you dare lie to me. What have you done to my strawberry milk?!”
“And I’m telling you it wasn’t me!”
“If not you, then who?!”
“I don’t know, maybe Winters did it?!”
“Don’t you dare drag your sister into this–”
As if summoned, Winters suddenly cleared her throat, making the two of them pause to look at her standing by the doorway. William can feel his face instantly turning flat as he pointedly stared at her.
What was that saying again?
Oh, right. Speak of devil and she shall appear.
“I happen to overhear your… conversation just now,” Winters began after a moment of awkward silence because her sudden appearance has curbed Alastor’s tongue.
William deadpans, “It was you, wasn’t it?”
She briefly ducks her head at that.
Snorting, William raised his brows expectantly at Alastor’s direction, awaiting the judge’s verdict, but much to his surprise (and William has to briefly wonders to himself why the hell he was even surprised), the werewolf only rubbed the back of his neck, his expression turning a bit sheepish.
“Ah, no, no… it’s cool Winters,” Alastor was saying as he gently closed the fridge behind him, “I can always just get myself another one. You want me to buy you some later?”
Winters shifted a bit in place, “If it’s alright…”
“It’s fine,” he says, smiling brightly at her, “Hey, you up for ice cream today? I just saw this article from online about this cute shoppe and I’ve been meaning to visit the place. Do you wanna come with?”
Wow, smooth.
“I’m… busy…” Winters mumbled.
…aaaaand not so smooth.
“Oh, I see. That’s okay…” William could almost applaud Alastor for trying not to appear too disappointed at that, the only indication of the werewolf’s dismay was the brief wobbling of his smile, the way his eyes grow a tad dimmer. “Perhaps another time?”
William swears his eyebrows are as high as physically possible as he silently watched this interaction. Forget about the anime, watching these two dancing around each other is entertaining as is.
But still…
His eyes narrowed at Winters.
Sometimes, his sister can be so stupid. An opportunity presents itself and she wouldn’t even try to grab it. And it’s not like William could ever dare to say no to free ice cream, anyway.
Well, that, and it’s payback time.
“Hey, you sure you don’t have the time?” he calls before Winters could turn and walk away from this. Because like hell William’s going to be stuck babysitting Alastor with that kicked-puppy look on his face for the entire day. No way, Jose. “It’s just for a few minutes… and you kind of owe Al here.”
Winters paused, glancing down at him, then at Alastor. Her gaze was clearly questioning. “Ah, Winters, no. It’s okay. Hey, kid, I just said it’s okay–!”
Oh, wonderful.
William’s not with one but two idiots.
“—he needs that ice cream after you stole his drink. He’s in dire need of a pick-me-up food!” William yells, raising his voice over Alastor’s.
Alastor blanches, “No, I don’t–!”
William scowled over at his moronic, half-hearted protests. “Look, pal. I may not look like it, but I’m actually trying to help you out here. So, are you with me or against me? Do you want ice cream or not?”
. . .
“To live with the conscious knowledge of the shadow of uncertainty, with the knowledge that disaster or tragedy could strike at any time; to be afraid and to know and acknowledge your fear, and still to live creatively and with unstinting love: that is to live with grace.”
—Peter Abrahams
. . .
They did end up in Shibuya, of all places.
The shoppe was nice, cozy, if not, a bit too cutesy for William’s tastes… but Alastor was right, their ice cream was totally worth it, enough for William to ignore the life-sized plushies that seemed to watch them eat from every corner with their ridiculously large and black, beady eyes.
That, and he really had enjoyed mocking Winters for practically standing out against the shoppe’s pastel pink aesthetic background, no thanks to her all-black outfit.
Some of the customers even mistook her for being a cosplayer of some sort, asking to take a picture from time to time, much to her confusion (unlike William, she’s not into anime; the uncultured idiot) and their amusement. It’s really her fault for looking so edgy.
“You looked like you’re attending a funeral with all that black, sis” he had told her, ignoring Alastor who was nudging him reproachfully, trying not to laugh.
At the moment, they are all busy eating each of their respective ice creams; William has ordered a cup of peanut-butter flavored ice cream, topped with macadamia nuts, and drizzled with coffee syrup while Alastor was enjoying his classic, strawberry ice cream topped with a generous amount of sprinkles.
Meanwhile, Winters was busy poking or nibbling at her cake every now and then, sometimes half-heartedly stabbing his wandering hand towards it.
William pouts, “Win… I want…”
“You have your own.”
“But you’re not even eating it!”
“No.”
“Winters—”
“William.”
Alastor was definitely laughing at him, that traitor.
William swears he’s not sulking, definitely not as he stares longingly at her plate. Ever the dark chocolate enthusiast, Winters had gotten her usual flavor. And she wouldn’t even share! “You know… they have a matcha-flavored ice cream cake too, can I…?” he wheedles after a moment of silence.
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?!”
“You already have an ice cream,” she mutters, her eyes not even straying from the crowd outside. From what William can tell, there wasn’t many people outside of the shoppe, most likely because of the time of the day… and it really didn’t help that the place was kind of a well-hidden gem.
He tries not to scoff.
And they called him paranoid…
Alastor must have sensed something was bothering her because he suddenly stopped demolishing his ice cream, a look of concern on his face, “But Winters… you love ice cream…”
Exactly.
William nods, “Yeah, kind of a red flag…”
Her gaze shot to their direction, “What was that you two?”
“Well… it’s just…” Alastor helplessly gestured to her barely eaten ice cream cake, “Dark chocolate is your favorite, right? You don’t look like you’re even enjoying it…”
“Ah,” she mutters, almost distractedly.
Doesn’t say anything else.
“Ah, what?” Alastor prompts.
“No. That’s not it.”
“Well, what it is it then?” William grumbled, hurriedly scooping up some ice cream to fill his mouth. If there’s bound to be trouble, he’d rather get his sugary treat finished, thank you very much.
“I’m not in the mood for ice cream is all.”
At this, he and Alastor paused, stares at one another before they both turned to look at Winters simultaneously. Winters must have sensed the weight of their incredulous stares because she met their gaze, brows furrowing.
“What?”
“Don’t you ‘what’ me!” William yelled, pointing his spoon accusingly at her, “Not in the mood for ice cream, my ass!”
“William!” she scolds.
“Who are you and what did you do to my sister?!”
William had actually meant that one as a joke, but the way Winters suddenly froze, eyes wide and mouth slightly open as she stared at him with something like panic on her face had his spine tingling. More so when Winters doesn’t answer. Didn’t say anything.
…What the hell?
What the hell’s with that look?
Fortunately, Alastor’s with them.
“Now, now, you two,” he says, wiping at his face, before turning to look at Winters, who eased up a bit in her seat, “If you can’t finish it, William or I will. Just eat up as much as you can. It’s no big deal.”
“I think it’s because of your baking.”
“Huh? What does my baking got to do with–?”
William chuckled, the air between them lighting up a bit as he scooped up some ice cream in his mouth, “Yeah, we’re kind of spoiled for life thanks to you. Store brought sweets aren’t really as good as homemade goods, to be honest…”
Alastor squinted his eyes at them, “Flatterers.”
“Am not,”
“You just want another ice cream cake.”
William shrugged at him, not really bothering to deny it, “Well… in my defense, cookies and cream is kind of my weakness.”
“I thought it’s coffee?”
“That too.”
Winters stared at them for a moment, almost looking like she was considering something. Then, she pushed her plate towards Alastor, slightly raising a piece of cake she still had on her spoon in his direction, “Here, you judge.”
William was sitting in front of Alastor, so he got a clear visual of the way it caught the werewolf off-guard, from the way the red flushes across his skin as Winters holds the spoon closer to him, the way his eyes widened in clear surprise as his mouth automatically opens, head moving and leaning on instinct to catch the sweet offering.
Quick as lightning, William made his move.
Knocking Alastor’s face off in the process, he hastily snatched the piece of cake with his mouth, swallowing it down with one gulp.
Then, he cringed, “Cold! COLD! COLD!”
Winters paused, her eyes practically drilling at the side of his face as he frantically waves a hand over his mouth, feeling like he was seconds away from breathing out ice. “What are you doing?” she demanded, voice equally as cold as the ice cream.
“Brain freeze!” he screeched, “BRAIN FREEZE!”
Alastor stared at him with the most betrayed look on his face that William almost feel sorry for a moment. But he steeled himself just as quickly, because friend or not, William is so not going to be a witness to their indirect kiss. That’s just gross.
“Um, here’s some napkins…”
Hurriedly wiping at his face, William caught his sister’s eye. Unlike Alastor, Winters knows him. She knows perfectly well that he hadn’t gotten a brain freeze over such a tiny piece of cake.
That it was on purpose.
Oh, there was a clear promise in that gaze alright, one that promises divine retribution. Narrowing his eyes, William doesn’t look away from her, meets that gaze head on, a challenge in its own right.
Fortunately (or was it unfortunate?) Alastor was clearly oblivious about that little tidbit as he wipes off some of the cream from the side of the plate, tasting it, “Mm, now I see the problem… it’s not too sweet for your tastes, huh? Don’t worry Winters, I’ll try to make some for you one of these days. Sounds cool?”
Winters doesn’t answer him right away—which, on hindsight, should have been William’s first clue, actually—only reaches out to wipe some of the cream on the corner of Alastor’s lower lip before bringing it to her lips, her tongue darting out to lick at the cream, all the while not looking away from him, her gaze intent. A slow smirk crawls at her lips.
“…Wonderful,” she rasps.
Suffice to say, Alastor all but excuses himself right there and then, his face too red that it was almost alarming as he stumbles off outside.
William watches Alastor leave for a moment, watches the doors swing close behind him, before turning his neck to throw his sister a nasty glare, “That was mean,” he snaps, “…and here I thought you’re not in the mood for ice cream?”
Proserpina’s smirk only widens, almost wryly.
“…I can no longer taste anything,” she confesses.