Chapter Text
Arackniss loathed being idle. Not waiting, no, he could do that for days at a time. It’s what his job called for, being wound just tight enough to accomplish a delicate hit at the drop of a hat. The anticipation thrumming under his skin was enough to keep him going where lesser demons would grow lax.
No, idling was a special kind of Hell to the small spider.
He could do nothing but sit still, relying on others to give him the go-ahead for action. It wasn’t Pentious fault, or even his fathers, he knew they were both working as hard and as fast as they could to get him out of a warehouse that smelled faintly of the old nitroglycerin sweating out of crates of TNT that was older than he was.
As with almost all of Pentious’ safe houses, even if the outside was shabby and the whole place might explode if he lit a cigarette in the wrong spot, it was well equipped.
Arackniss had taken stock of what kind of resources he had at his disposal about a million times. Enough canned and dried goods he could eat comfortably for at least two weeks, a medical kit (specifically outfitted for bullets and burns, it seemed) a few guns and not nearly enough bullets.
He had done pretty much everything he could think of to keep himself occupied, working on his car (There was nothing he could do about the windshield), cleaned it out, which he hadn’t done thoroughly in a very long while, apparently.
There weren’t many indicators of his relationship in his life, not physically at least. Arackniss had said time and time again that he needed to keep it hidden, for everyone’s safety, and Pentious hadn’t minded in the slightest.
That didn’t mean there wasn’t any trace of Pentious. His contact on Arackniss’ phone was simply ‘SP’, their texts were brief but fond. He found a button from Pentious’ coat in the wheel well of his car, a cork from a type of wine he favored in his trunk.
For some reason Arackniss couldn’t bring himself to throw these little bits of trash out, even though he was literally surrounded by Pentious’ things right now. The safehouse bedroom was filled with furniture that the snake had obviously picked, a few changes of his clothing.
But it was all stale, untouched and felt removed from the snake.
No, this was just like any other safe house he had been in. Entirely devoid of personality, just as it should be.
Sleeping wasn’t a viable option either, though, he needed to be ready to go in a moment’s notice.
So, Arackniss spent a lot of time thinking.
He thought about work, briefly, but there was not much to be said there. Not much of his Pops either, Arackniss tried to keep him out of his mind as much as possible.
Arackniss spends an embarrassing amount of time thinking of Pentious, all of his eyes sliding unfocused as he thinks of times long passed, but near to his heart.
~~~
It had really been a freak accident that they had run into each other at all.
Arackniss had heard of Pentious, seen his blustering personality nearly get blown to bits on national TV with whatever half-crocked idea the warlord had gotten himself into that month.
Pentious, of course, had no idea Arackniss existed, not really at least. For all of his notoriety within the family, Arackniss was completely unknown to just about everything else, just as he wanted to be.
In a way, Pentious was the same way.
You see, for all of his ego and posturing, it was just that. A little facade, crafted in over a century in Hell, perfected out of survival and worn as a force of nature. He could take off his hat (literally), put on just slightly different clothing then his usual ‘work outfit’, speak with a more natural lilt and he was just another snake demon.
Pentious later told Arackniss that it was the only way he was able to survive in Hell for so long, crafting two personalities for himself. One commanded the power of a demon hell-bent on thriving, the other kept him as sane as possible.
He wasn’t near as dense or foolhardy in real life as he was in front of a camera or out defending his turf where others could see. It made people underestimate him, thinking they could read him like an open book and getting far too foolhardy themselves before he swept them away like so much dust.
It made it all the more special that Arackniss was the one to slip through those boundaries.
Arackniss had just gotten back from a hit. He didn’t remember details, it had been years ago at this point, but he did remember it had gone well, and he was at one of his preferred bars for a celebratory drink and a cigarette.
As someone who lived on the fringe of society both in life and death, Arackniss had little ways of keeping himself safe, unknown.
He hadn’t let the ruckus caused at the far end of the bar deter him, not even when a burly demon and a small group of imps started yelling at each other after too much cheap alcohol.
He was, however, deterred from simply ignoring it when one imp pulled out a stick of dynamite from who-knows-where, intent on blowing them all to kingdom come.
In a split second it had been a mad dash to wherever was safest, which in his case was behind the bar.
He had about four microseconds to process the fact that he wasn’t the only one hiding behind the bar before the bomb went off, and his ears were ringing.
Through no small miracle, he was free of shrapnel, and he took in the snake demon coiled next to him.
“Hello there, mind if I stay here?” the snake asked casually, as if they hadn’t just been in an explosion. Maybe it happened a lot to him, this was Hell after all, “My name’s Pentious.”
“Hi. Sure,” Arackniss couldn’t help but be mildly impressed by his level headedness. He was sort of familiar, all blacks, yellows, and reds, but he couldn’t really put his finger on it, "Uh, I'm Arackniss."
A bullet flew over the bar, and Pentious let out an almost comical hiss, ducking down.
Arackniss had grabbed his gun out, and was already firing back with the accuracy of, well, a sniper.
An imp hit the ground and Arackniss had a half second of satisfaction before he was dragged backwards by the coattails as a shotgun shell went off.
He’s tempted to push Pentious off of him, but he did just save his ass, so he can forgive the contact.
The fight is pushed outside by the bartender (who’s wielding a club studded with nails, both metal and…. organic) and Arackniss and Pentious both peek out from over the bar to check that the coast is clear.
Arackniss is dusting himself off, muttering about a waste of a cigarette as Pentious watches him, even if the spider only half notices.
“Would you like to get a drink?” Pentious asked suddenly, before Arackniss had even tried to leave, “Seeing as this bar is currently out of order.”
He really should have said no, and left. He was going to say no.
“Sure.”
It was the start of a trend, it seemed.
Pentious was good company when he wasn’t acting like a hubristic megalomaniac, and Arackniss found that Pentious didn’t pressure him into conversation about things he didn’t want to.
Arackniss hadn’t really known what love was, before Pentious. He knew of familial obligations, the need to protect Molly, the responsibility he had to Father. But not love, at least of the romantic variety.
He supposed that was probably why it took him so long to figure out what the hell kept bringing him back to that bar week after week, forming a habit when he never formed habits.
There was too much to lose in the mundane, a pattern that an enemy could pick up on was a weakness.
But somehow, Pentious made that worth it.
They had drinks almost every week, and it was nice. Arackniss didn’t even know he could open up to other people, but Pentious somehow did it.
He didn’t know how to feel about it.
Arackniss convinced himself it was because he was trying to reconcile the warlord Sir Pentious that was often found cackling maniacally on tv in one of his ridiculous air balloons to the rather pleasant company he was now. Sure, he still talked (a lot) but Arackniss didn’t mind it very much, it wasn’t like he was going to advertise the things he did for the Family.
It was refreshing to be around Pentious, he felt… he felt oddly special, in a way.
He was privy to a side of the snake that no one else saw, not even his egg minions, where he could be himself. Energetic and a little eclectic, but full of so much passion for his work that it couldn’t help but rub off on Arackniss.
The spider found himself laughing more often at Pentious’ jokes, telling little tales about himself, even offering a word or two of comfort to help
It was a lot of new things, and for once Arackniss found he couldn’t get enough of it.
It was an odd feeling, that squeezed his chest sometimes simply by being with Pentious. He was tempted to say it was something bad, akin to nerves, if it didn’t make him feel so goddamn fulfilled.
~~~
“Hey, Pen?” It was a nickname that predated any actual dating, since saying Pentious was just a mouthful.
“Hm?” At this point, Pentious was adept at picking up the microexpressions Arackniss made, like looking over fine cogwork. Arackniss was particularly deep in thought right now.
They were in a restaurant that mimicked the speakeasies of the twenties, with alcoves so one could have more private conversations. It was more in line for business, than for pleasure, but they enjoyed the privacy.
“What are we?”
“Two demons drinking at a booth together, as we have every week for… oh, the last two months or so?”
“No, no, I mean-” Arackniss cut himself off with a sigh, “Are we friends?”
“Well, I consider us friends,” Pentious laughed into his wine glass, and Arackniss nearly missed the thread of nervousness in his voice, “Do you?”
“I think so, yeah. It’s just a new feeling for me.”
“Understandable, I can’t imagine you have much of a chance for that kind of thing in your line of work.”
“Never really thought to seek it out, I guess.”
“Well, I’m glad you made the time for me.”
“So am I.”