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Charlie emptied another big bag of shiny pride flag pins into a tub, and she wondered if maybe she might have ordered a bit too many for only the hotel. It's just that she got so excited! It was June. There weren't any immediate threats to the hotel this year, so everyone could celebrate pride together. She had been a big fan since the Lust demons had brought the concept from Earth back to Hell. She loved the colors. She loved the parades. She… could do with a bit less of the public sex acts or dildos flying through the air like confetti. Above all, though, she loved love.
She wasn't the only one enjoying the season. Angel had already swapped his wardrobe from pink to blue and teal on his own. Vaggie was wearing the orange to pink gradient hair bow Charlie had gotten her last year. Charlie's suit jacket was heavy with pins: a rainbow, bisexuality flag, she/her, Fuck Hate, Love is Love, Stronger Together, and other slogans of joy and acceptance. She couldn't wait for everyone at the hotel to be wearing their own colors. Especially…
“What's all this, then?” Alastor asked as he approached. He leaned over the table and scanned the selection of color striped pins with his usual inscrutable grin.
“It's for pride!”
Charlie's heart leapt. She was so certain that Alastor was asexual, but suspected that he didn't know, and this was her chance to teach him about himself and bring him along on the road to self-acceptance. He could open up and tell her about his life and experiences and how they all made sense now and maybe she could give his hand a comforting squeeze just right that said, I see you and you’re valid and I’m here for you. It would be A-MAZING!
“There isn't much red on offer. Is that not the color of Pride?” Alastor prodded a pin with the tip of his claw.
“Oh! No, not Pride. Pride. Gay pride! Well not just gay, but you know, cause on Earth and in Hell some people are homophobic and we want to celebrate our diversity…” Charlie laughed nervously. She was already flubbing this, and Alastor was just staring. Did he even really know what any of this meant? “Right! You're old-fashioned, so, gay is-”
“Pansies, queens, bulldykes.”
Charlie winced at every word that Alastor tossed out with a casual air. “Hohkay, that's really not-”
“Darling, do you think they just recently invented homosexuality? Or that I was laboring under misapprehensions on the nature of your relationship, or of Angel’s clientele?” Alastor flopped his hand lazily.
“No,” Charlie said. She nudged a crooked bin square with the table.
Obviously Alastor would be aware of gay people, but the language had definitely shifted since he died. She sucked in a breath to refocus before walking him through the pins she had available. She had all the big ones: the rainbow flag, the ally flag, the mlm flag, the wlw flag, bisexual, pansexual – she didn't think she successfully differentiated between the two, Alastor seemed a little confused – transgender, and…
“And this one is the asexual flag,” she presented a pin to him on her outstretched hands, “for people who don't have interest in sex. Or well, not much? Not sexually attracted to anyone.”
Alastor looked at the pin. He looked at her eager expression. He tilted his head. His eyes crinkled just a bit at the corners. He reached out. His hand passed hers entirely heading down to the table to delicately pluck an ally pin, which he affixed to his lapel.
“Never cared much about who people chose to waggle their genitals at, so long as it wasn’t unwanted. Used to go after work and play with a band at a gin joint frequented by queer folk. Those gals and fellas were a lively bunch.”
Alastor buffed the pin with his sleeve and tucked his hands behind his back once more. Charlie's smile strained. She curled her hand around the pin she'd been offering to Alastor, still holding it as she gave him a double thumbs-up.
“That's great, Alastor!” she forced out, “we love and appreciate acceptance and solidarity. Just maybe don't call anyone a pansy or a… a dyke anymore though? Please?”
“He didn't take it, Vaggie! I was holding it out to him and explained and everything and he didn't take it!”
“Maybe he actually is straight?”
“...”
“... yeah, no. Probably not, but you can't make someone come out to you, Hon.”
It was days later, early in the morning when Charlie caught Alastor at the table inspecting the pins again. She dropped what she was doing literally, the papers of plans for today fluttered to the floor in her wake, and she rushed over. This time for sure she would get him to take the right pin, and then there would be the emotional talk and then sunshine and glitter! Her hands slammed on the table to brace the impact from her speed. She smiled in a way that was entirely normal and not manic at all. She took a second to catch her breath. She noted that his lapel was empty again. Yes! He was making a swap! This was it!
“Hi! Did you have questions?”
“Not questions, no. I've simply been doing some,” static zipped as Alastor weighed his words, “reflection I suppose. One can get mired in a particular framework of thinking about themselves.”
“Right! Nothing is better than being open to learning more about yourself. ” Charlie rubbed her palms on her pants discreetly so they wouldn't be damp for the soon hand-holding.
“I've realized that I feel the same level of attraction to male bodies as female.”
Which is none! Charlie wanted to yell as she helplessly watched Alastor select a bisexuality pin.
“Don't get me wrong, most men still are severely deficient in wit and charm when compared to women. I'm sure you understand.” Alastor flicked the matching pin on Charlie's jacket.
“Ahaaah, yeah, I do have this one ex-boyfriend…” She would love to bond over having something in common with Alastor, but they didn't actually have this in common. “Thought I was straight at the time. The journey of self-discovery never ends!”
She tried to use her eyes as telepathic laser beams into his head to burn in his mind the idea that he still had more reflection to do, that he hadn't got to the right answer. He only smiled like nothing was wrong.
“Expanding your dating options then?” Charlie prompted, hoping the question would make him realize his error.
There was a musical sting then Alastor shrugged. Shaking his head, he said, “oh, I'm much too busy for all that right now. Speaking of busy, I believe Angel has blown another fuse with all his lights and toys and hairdryers and whatnot, and after that my breakfast won't kill itself. Ta for now!”
The second he had phased away, Charlie face-planted right into the table. She felt farther from her goal than ever.
“I just don't know what to do!”
“You could do nothing?”
“I tried finding a movie with an asexual character for him to relate to that like, wasn't a robot because of his technology thing? and it was really hard!”
“He doesn't come to movie nights anyway.”
“Mnnngghh!”
Charlie was sipping her coffee while mindlessly scrolling through hashtag “WholesomeMemes” on Sinstagram. She turned a corner and fumbled the remaining half of her drink onto the floor to avoid spilling it on herself or Alastor, who was just standing there, looming in the way that he does.
“Oh, fuck! Sorry!” she said. She crouched and summoned a rag to sop up the liquid that was surely going to stain the carpet. She silently offered another apology, this one to Niffty.
“Quite alright, dear.” Alastor waited for her to finish not even offering to help.
Charlie fixed her hair and smoothed her clothes when she stood back up, “did you need something though?”
“You've added more colors to the table.” He twiddled his fingers in the vague direction of the lobby.
Colors? Ah, the pins! “Yes! I did,” she said. Her dad had asked if she had anything for nonbinary or gender fluid, so she'd taken the opportunity to fill some other gaps in her selection, not that there were many more takers.
“I thought you'd covered everything, what else is there?” Alastor asked. His tone was dismissive but there was a little pinch between his brows. He wouldn't bring it up if he didn't want to know. He must realize deep down that he had missed something about his own identity.
“Right! Let's go and I'll explain them all to you!” Charlie hurried off to the table that had slowly been accumulating multicolored drawings of penises and a few vulva on the table cloth.
She rushed through the nonbinary, agender, and gender fluid pins, and Alastor commented that was more options than anyone needed. He was quiet as she explained intersex, and maybe she wasn't explaining it well? In Hell it was far more likely to be fully dual-sexed than to be somewhere between, and even that wasn't common. She also had to correct him when he blithely joked that in his day polyamory was just called cheating, because those were very different. When she got to aromanticism his smile went wry. He pointed between the asexual and aromantic pins.
“Are they not the same thing?”
Charlie heard the blood thump in her ears. Maybe this was the key to unlocking Alastor's understanding!
“Nope! I mean, they do go together for most people but, so like, it's different to feel attracted to someone and to want to be in a relationship with them. Obviously I feel both for Vaggie, but consider say, I see a picture of Verosika Mayday and go whoa but I don't feel any romantic attraction to her. And then this pin is for being aro-ace, for people who are both… or neither, I guess?”
Charlie really, really hoped that made sense to him. Alastor hummed. He grabbed up all three pins to look at closer and Charlie's mouth was too dry to even swallow away her nerves. Should she say something?
“The colors for the ‘both’ one really are nothing like either of the others.” Alastor said.
He set all three pins back on the table, and Charlie could nearly set something on fire for all her frustration. Actually, the tablecloth under her fingers was starting to smolder. She smudged the embers away. No one would notice the marks. Probably.
“Oh, haha, yeah, I'm really not sure why it's like that-”
Her breath caught when she saw Alastor picking up a pin. Between his claws, she saw a flash of yellow, a sliver of purple. She was about to correct him, he must have meant to grab nonbinary – which actually would make some sense – rather than intersex, but there was something in his eyes like a challenge or like he was a cornered animal. She opened her mouth and he vanished, spiriting himself away.
“I'm gonna go talk to him, let him know he made a mistake!”
“Babe, I don't think it's worth all that.”
“It's fine, I promise not to get pushy about the asexual thing, but at least I want him to be correctly projecting his own perceived identity?”
Charlie softly knocked on Alastor's door. She pat her pocket to feel the nonbinary pin she'd brought with her while she waited. She played with her fingers. She knocked again a little firmer. She rocked heel to toe. She was just about to knock a third time when the door opened. Alastor leaned on the frame with one arm. His other hand held a nearly empty bottle of booze. His coat was unbuttoned and his bowtie loose. He swayed as he regarded her, and Charlie could smell the pungency of alcohol coming from him. Alastor was drunk. She'd never seen him drunk, never seen him any less than pristine with rigid posture.
“Is this a bad time? I just wanted a little chat. Real quick, I promise,” Charlie said. Curious, she tried to take a peek behind him, but saw nothing that stood out to her from her vantage point.
Alastor backed off from the door, leaving it hanging open. “You might as well come in.”
He sauntered back to his chair and dropped into it. His eyes followed Charlie as she crossed the room with an awkward hopping gait. She held her arms up at a tight angle. Even if she had been invited in, Alastor didn't let people into his room. She didn't feel like she was allowed to touch anything. She stood by the other chair uncertainly until Alastor waved his hand back and forth from her to it.
“Well sit down.” He tipped his bottle toward her. “Care for a drink?”
“Oh, ah, no. Thank you.”
Charlie's gaze flitted around the room: the skulls, the radios, the trees, the bones, the fireflies. Alastor leaned toward the little wooden table between their chairs to refill his tumbler. Also on the table was an ashtray with a few cigarette butts – she had never seen Alastor smoke either, and the pin. The purple circle stared back at her with judgement. She startled to attention when Alastor set the bottle down hard. He quietly nursed a few sips.
“Soooo,” Charlie cleared her throat, “that's, uh, uncharacteristic of you? to drink like this?”
He huffed. Huffed! “It's your fault anyway.”
“Now, we shouldn't blame other people for our own choices,” Charlie said gently. Alastor's flat look and a low roll of static reminded her that he really wasn't the target audience for mindfulness. He tossed the rest of his drink back.
“I hadn’t thought about any of this for years, decades, and now there’s a name for it and a symbol to be displayed in pride for,” Alastor set his glass back down with a harsh clack, “my abnormalities.”
Oh. Charlie's eyes widened with understanding that he might not have grabbed the wrong pin after all.
“Alastor, there's nothing wrong with you for being different in… in that way,” she hedged since there were certainly some things that were very wrong with him. “It's nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Is that what you think? That I'm ashamed of myself?” Alastor snarled. He straightened in his seat but nearly tipped either from a swimming head or the sudden weight of his growing antlers. “The problem has only ever been other people.”
She didn't know what to think. Fear and shame were the reason why people hid things about themselves. If he wasn't ashamed, then what was he afraid of? He'd never seemed afraid of anything.
“It must have been hard, having to keep such a big secret,” Charlie tried slowly. She had to keep him talking, to keep him opening up emotionally. It wasn't the talk she thought she would have with him, but she wasn't going to squander this opportunity.
Alastor flopped back in his chair, swinging his legs over one arm and leaning his elbow on the other. “It wasn't usually difficult. A clean chin was in style, so no one had to know my thin mustache and some wiry scruff was about all I could manage. Layers do a lot to smooth the appearance of my chest. I took no bed partners who might spread rumors.”
Charlie wished she had a pillow to hug. Her eyes misted as she imagined a human Alastor having to disguise his body from the world, how lonely that must have been. “Oh Alastor,” her voice cracked, “did you have anyone to trust with it at all?”
Alastor pulled a cigarette case from an interior coat pocket. He placed one between his lips and lit up with his arcane green fire. Charlie stifled a cough from the smoke. At least he blew it away from her.
“Of course my mother knew. When the midwife handed me over she advised her that her daughter was deformed, would never be able to marry, should be raised for a convent that the lord might forgive us both for the sins that twisted my flesh. Ha! She should have been more worried about my mind.”
Charlie wiped her eyes on her sleeve. How could anyone say that about a baby? A baby! Babies were the sweetest most innocent things ever even if they later grow up to make bad choices.
“Ma said though, she told me she looked at me and saw ten little toes and ten little fingers and two bright eyes and knew I was perfect. You know, I didn't have a name for a week until she decided to raise a gentleman.” Alastor took a long draw of his cigarette and ashed it with a practiced flick. “And so I am."
He said it like it was simple, but Charlie reeled trying to imagine how complicated her relationship with gender would be if she were in his shoes. How feminine would she feel with facial hair? Would Vaggie have been attracted to her if between her legs was… actually she didn't know what Alastor's situation was exactly. His body didn't match his gender presentation though, apparently. Actually, was this a trans thing? Was Alastor trans? She was bumping against discourse that she was ignorant of and unprepared for. She grabbed a strand of her hair and stroked it over and over. An anxious bubble of guilt rolled in her stomach that she wouldn't have the knowledge to guide her friend on this topic. She'd wasted all her research in hopes of helping with a very different crisis.
Alastor stubbed his cigarette butt into the ashtray with the others. "You're thinking a mile a minute, darling. Shall I offer you a penny?" He leaned heavy and unsteady on the arm of his chair, regarding her.
Charlie pushed down a rush of invasive and rude questions about his anatomy. Meekly she asked instead, "are you going to wear the pin?"
"The question of the evening, that." Alastor's ears folded backward. He flicked the pin, making it rattle. "If I did, if people recognize the symbol, all they would think about is my genitals."
"What? Noooo," Charlie trailed off with an unconvincing laugh. Alastor's glowing stare was piercing, as if he knew that she had just been wondering herself. Well, some idle curiosity was natural! Even non-intersexed sinners had a lot of variation, and it was normal to have a passing thought or two. She wasn't a bad person just for thinking about it, right? She tapped steepled fingers together. She decided to remix parts of her rehearsed speech for this new scenario. "I think that if you give people the chance they might surprise you and that the novelty would wear off when people see that you're still the same ol' Alastor."
He was quiet but for small crackles of static as he rocked the pin back and forth. It wasn't rejection so Charlie persisted, "and, well, you are very good at enforcing your personal boundaries."
Alastor laughed at that, so hard that his arms slipped off the armrest, and he nearly toppled out of his chair. He regathered himself, though, wiping under an eye to ward tears. "Oh, indeed. If anyone makes an untoward remark, I'll show them exactly the kind of miserable worm they are by tearing their limbs and having them writhe in their own filth!"
Charlie's face tensed into an awkward smile. "See now that's, uh… maybe a teensy bit extreme?"
She resolved to warn Angel to be kind to Alastor while he was sensitive and vulnerable about coming out. Alastor grabbed up the pin and fumbled the fastener a few times without successfully springing it open.
"Here let me," she offered.
He flopped the pin into her hand, their fingers brushing. It wasn't exactly holding hands, but he didn't wipe away her touch. While she opened the point of the pin, he wiggled to be mostly upright. He tugged the his lapel and angled it toward Charlie.
"Gwon then."
Alastor was letting her put it on for him?! Charlie nearly stabbed her own thumb during her scramble to her feet. She would do this so perfect. Right, so, maintain a respectful distance. Yes! Not even bumping knees. She met Alastor’s sleepy smile with an encouraging one of her own and took hold of his lapel. Temptation twinged to remove the bisexuality pin, but she ignored it.
One breath in to prepare herself for officially beginning a new phase of their friendship and she smelled the sweet tobacco and sharp booze over Alastor's usual scent of overripe fruit and something like the mammals she had gotten to feed and pet at the zoo in Heaven -- far from the worst smells in Hell. She placed the pin neatly, carefully. She smoothed Alastor's lapels even as he was slowly sliding down in the chair. His eyes closed, and his head tipped down toward his chest. It was kind of cute to see him nod off.
"You shouldn't sleep in a chair," she said.
"Just resting m'eyes, darlin'," he protested, looking very much like he was about to fall asleep.
Until this very moment, Charlie would have sworn that Alastor didn't sleep. She would have sworn she knew a lot about him that had been proven wrong. This evening wasn't the conversation she'd thought she'd have at the beginning, of teaching Alastor who he was and helping him love himself. Rather, it was him telling her who he had always been, and it felt like that's how it should be.
Charlie conjured a fluffy blanket and draped it over Alastor. He hummed and shifted more onto his side, but didn't stir to protest. Well, with the supportive environment she'd been fostering, he'd moved pretty quickly from identifying as straight to bi. Maybe he'd get to ace all on his own too, and she would be waiting to celebrate with him.