Some Fawn expressions and a bit of Alastor slander😩👌🏻

Fawn's POV

There was a gentle nudge against my arm that stirred me from my peaceful sleep.

"Just a few minutes more..." I murmured, burying my face into the soft pillow that smells like a campfire.

The deep chuckle that followed my halfhearted protest reminded me of where I was currently sleeping, but my reaction this time wasn't nearly as dramatic as it was the first time he woke me up.

"I'm afraid it's time to wake up, dear, dinner will get cold if you sleep any longer," he said, and begrudgingly I opened my eyes.

Thankfully, the room was still dim so I wasn't bombarded with light. Alastor was in front of me again, hands behind his back as he grinned down at me.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he teased me with a smirk. Rolling my eyes, I pushed myself up and brushed my fingers back through my hair. A soft raspberry forced its way through my lips, and I felt groggy.

Alastor waited patiently beside the bed, and when I'd finally gotten off of the comfortable mattress and faced him, he gave me an amused look.

"Did you have a nice nap, darling?" He chuckled, reaching forward.

I wasn't nearly awake enough to protest against him touching me, and his fingers brushed over my cheek as he grasped a stray piece of hair and freed it from the corner of my mouth.

His hand returned to its place behind his back, and I shifted my eyes up to meet his.

"I feel like you just resurrected me," I croaked at him, my voice still needing to wake up as well. He laughed at this statement, beginning to walk towards the door.

I followed him, preparing for the light to hit my eyes.

"That's quite ironic, don't you think?" He quipped, opening the door. I winced slightly at the brightness of the hallway, but quirked a smile at his humorous response.

Together we made our way downstairs and immediately a delicious smell made my mouth water and woke my senses up just a bit more.

"Ok, what is that smell?" I asked longingly, rounding the corner that leads to the kitchen right behind him.

"Dinner," he answered simply, leading me to the table before he pulled my seat out for me. Sitting down, I smiled warmly at him in thanks.

His eyes lingered on me a moment before he turned away and grabbed two plates, setting one in front of me and the other sat at his seat.

Immediately I noticed my plate had the bigger portions this time.

Taking it in my hands as he sat, I began to go to hand it to him.

"Alastor, I think you gave me the wrong—"

"No, no, dear, that's the right one," he interrupted, settling into his chair. I furrowed my brows and looked at my plate, pulling it back towards me.

Clearing his throat slightly, he continued, "you didn't come to dinner last night I— I figured you had simply been tired, but you need to eat..."

My confusion melted into a warm feeling at the center of my chest as he stumbled over his explanation.

I simply smiled, picking up my utensils.

As we began to eat, the rest of dinner consisted of small talk and banter. It was comfortable, despite everything, and I was thankful to have something just a little normal for once.

Just like he promised, he told me about his day at work. Apparently his boss is being a dickhead, and is royally pushing Alastor's buttons.

Curiously, I asked his name.

"What's his name? If you don't mind me asking," I said, taking another bite of this delicious food he made.

"Henry Johnson," Alastor all but growled in disgust, laying his chin into his palm dramatically, "a pest of a man," he grumbled.

My eyebrows raised and I immediately looked away and slowly took another bite of food. Alastor chuckled, "what?" He questioned and a smirk tugged at my lips.

Henry Johnson was one of the names in the papers.

"Rest in peace...that's all I'm gonna say about that," I said cheekily, biting my tongue to keep from laughing at my own dark joke.

I've come to the decision that, while I'm here, I could at least make the best of the situation. A few jokes won't kill anyone.

Except maybe Alastor, who proceeded to choke on his food as he laughed at what I said. Covering his mouth, he let out a few chuckles, his shoulders bouncing as he did so.

I was giggling as well, but my eyebrows furrowed when I noticed the handkerchief wrapped around his hand.

"Hey," I said softly, reaching forward.

His laughter died down, and he was silent as I took his hand into mine, curiously looking over the "bandage".

The bulk of it was wrapped messily around his thumb, the rest wrapped around his wrist to keep it in place. The cloth on his thumb was slightly stained with blood.

"What happened?" I asked him curiously, looking up into his eyes. He was looking down at me with a slightly shocked expression, but quickly blinked and widened his grin.

Waving his free hand dismissively, he chuckled slightly, "oh, nothing, simply a mishap while preparing the vegetables," he explained, and I could tell he was being honest, but there was something else behind his tone.

Shaking my head, I looked over his shitty bandage job, "well, you did a shit job wrapping it," I chuckled. Both of our plates were empty now, and I collected them, taking them to the sink.

"Stay right there," I called over my shoulder, "and where's your first aid?" I asked.

"Under the sink," he replied, and I bent down as I opened the cabinet to look for it. The bright red bag was easy to spot, the small cross centered at the middle reminding me of a cliché first aid bag.

Snorting softly to myself, I grabbed the bag and stood back up, turning around. He was watching me from his place at the kitchen table, and I walked back over to him with a smile.

"Let nurse Fawn fix you up!" I said with a smile.

I feel much much better now that I've actually had some proper sleep, and I actually am in an Ok mood. The food helped, too, I was starving.

Grabbing my chair, I pulled it to where it was directly in front of him and plopped down. He stayed quiet, but I swear his cheeks were flushed.

Reaching up, I pressed my palm to his forehead. Then I took both his cheeks in my hands and felt his temperature. He feels fine, I don't know why his face would be flushed.

"You feeling ok?" I asked him, pulling my hands back and taking up his injured hand into my grasp. I began unwrapping it, focusing on not being too rough with him.

"Yes, dear, I feel just fine..." he said, and I hummed in response, finally getting the cloth away from his hand.

Immediately I cringed at the bloodied cut, seeing how angry it looked from not being treated properly.

"If you'd left it like this it would have gotten infected," I chastised him lightly, opening the bag to my left and pulling out a few cotton pads.

Getting up, I walked to the sink and wet a few of the cotton pads with water, and then looked under the sink for some rubbing alcohol.

Which, there was none, but he did have a bottle of whiskey. Grabbing that, I came back to the table and reclaimed my seat.

Very gently I cleaned the surface of his skin with the wetted cotton, his hand being held by both of mine.

The cut itself was bright red and inflamed, but it wasn't too deep. Nothing a good clean and bandage won't fix.

Humming softly, I tenderly cleaned his wound out. Then I grabbed the whiskey and doused one of the cotton pads in it.

"Okay, deep breath," I said to him softly, nearing the cut with the soaked cotton. He tsk'd softly, nearly sounding like a scoff.

"Darling, I can handle a little—fuck!"

The moment the alcohol touched his cut, the curse flew past his lips and his other hand went over his mouth, his eyes wide.

I had to fight back a laugh, snickering to myself as he hissed and whined while I cleaned it.

"What was that you were saying?" I chuckled teasingly, looking up at him with a smirk. He had an uncomfortable look on his face, wincing while I got rid of the dirt and dried blood that had caked into the wound.

Once it was completely clean, I grabbed a box of bandaids from the bag. For a moment, I looked over the box curiously. The packing was so...it was a new box, but the design was so old.

I just shrugged it off and opened the box, noticing that the box's seal had never been broken.

"Have you never needed a bandaid before?" I questioned him, raising an eyebrow as I broke the seal on the pack and took one out.

He chuckled, shaking his head, "no, I can't say I have...I'm not a clumsy person, normally..." his voice faded, and he fell quiet.

So, with one final sigh I wrapped his thumb in the bandage and then squeezed his hand, rubbing his knuckles soothingly like my mom would for me whenever I got cut anywhere.

"All better!" I chirped, releasing him.

He hummed softly, letting his hand fall to his lap. I began cleaning up, taking the supplies and whiskey and putting them back into their proper places.

"Why'd you do that...?"

His sudden question was so quiet I wasn't even sure if he'd actually said anything. Turning around, I tilted my head.

"Hm?" I responded, meeting his eyes. He had his hands in his lap, his uninjured hand gently rubbing the bandage on his thumb.

"Why'd you do that?" He repeated, his voice a bit louder.

Suddenly I felt a bit sheepish, and shrugged as I turned back around to hide the flush in my cheeks. Closing the cabinet door, I sighed.

"I just..." I started, but then felt his hand on my shoulder and he turned me around to face him. I was surprised, especially since I didn't even hear him get up.

He had me trapped between himself and the counter, and I immediately pulled my hands close to my chest as I stared up at him.

His expression was blank, observing me with curious eyes. The closeness between us was the first thing I noticed...the second was his hands on either side of me, trapping me.

I wish I could tell you what was going on inside his head, but he kept those secrets to himself. The thoughts in my head were running rapidly, going through every single scenario, showing me different ways this could end if I don't play my cards right.

"I just..." I continued, "wanted to help you...y-you cooked for me, and let me sleep in your bed I..."

My words slowly stopped, and he still hadn't said anything, just looking down at me with that same expression on his face.

Then, he hummed softly, and my eyes fell to the floor.

I was holding my hands, trying to get them to stop shaking. His scent was the only thing I could clearly focus on because he was so close to me.

"Are you scared?" He said, his voice a deep whisper. My heart thumped hard against my chest, and I nodded.

"You don't need to be, I'm not planning on hurting you," he said in that same quiet tone, "you're just intriguing to me, I'm trying to get to know you a little bit better..."

My brows furrowed, and I raised my eyes to his.

"A-Alastor, people don't normally...uh...corner others...as a friendly gesture..." I said, my voice having turned small.

He himself seemed to notice, then, how close we were. That smile on his face widened slightly and he shrugged.

"I'm just used to people running from me before I can even ask them anything. Of course, normally I'm aiming to kill them, but not you," he said casually, and I just stared up at him.

"W-well, do you want to go to the living room...and maybe have a normal conversation instead of this...?" I asked him calmly, and his eyes widened just slightly.

The blush on my face was something I just had to deal with, but the moment he stepped away, I let out a relieved breath.

Then I gave him a smile, although this one was just slightly more wary, and motioned for him to follow me to the living room.