Work Text:
At least demon Peepers isn’t here.
That’s the one thought keeping him sane, right now.
Sam’s actual arrival in Hell was not what he really expected. Not a lot of fanfare, just the normal procedure with a golden token and a rickety, ghostly subway car. He’s used to being a visitor in this place, so not being able to wander around freely was certainly… annoying. Didn’t even get to talk to Satan himself. Which is a bunch of bullhockey, that guy owes him one!
Imagine going from having your own statue to just being one of millions of tormented souls.
He’s locked up in his own little drawer, now. Amongst the others. His own little personal Hell. So degrading.
It’s not the office this time, it’s his usual spot at the lunch table in his old elementary school. He’s still a fully grown dog, however. Sam can’t get up from the seat, he’s been forced to either eat, or watch his lunch get snatched away. Sometimes a demon kid will sit across from him and taunt him for his weight, nitpick his food choices.
Absolutely miserable, hitting him right where he’s most sensitive, too. Satan’s outdone himself.
And no Max to come save him, bite the demons heads off, rip out their kidneys.
He sure could cry right now, but souls don’t have tear ducts. He’d even settle for a good old howl, but he doesn’t have the strength.
Sam’s not really sure how long it’s been, actually. It could have been minutes, weeks, years. Who knows. All he does know is that this is marginally better than having to watch himself destroy everything he loves.
It was miserable, losing control like that. Becoming an electrically charged beast. Smashing buildings, stomping on cars. Too many casualties.
However, seeing Max distraught over what to do, that was the final straw. The worst part. Some part of his brain told the lagomorph that the best option was to just let him go. Max hadn’t taken it well.
He knows his little buddy had intended to kill them both in the explosion. But it’s just not something that Sam would be able to live with. Or die with. Whatever.
After a particularly nasty demon spits in his lunch, Sam at least thanks the world that it was him, not Max. He’d rather his little buddy live on and keep the freelance business going. Sam’s just the straight-man, it would turn into a regular ol’ angsty noir detective gig without Max around. The lagomorph can find his own new brand of chaotic justice all on his own, for sure.
The canine clenches his fists on the table. Still. He misses the guy terribly. Thinking about him now, remembering all his wonderfully dangerous qualities, Sam has come to the conclusion many minutes ago that he has some mushy feelings for his partner. Has for a while, but didn’t have the right state of mind to realize. Figuring it out after he’s dead, can you believe it?
Worst thing about this place is it messes with his memory. Sometimes he completely forgets he’s in eternal torment, just figures this is how it’s always been. There’s been a few moments where even Max manages to escape his wavering mental faculties. That’s terrifying. He’s been fighting to keep his mind on track.
There’s a strange noise, off to his right. Somewhat familiar, he remembers it vaguely… a dinging noise of something being accepted?
Sam turns his head.
It’s Satan, standing in the lunchroom. He looks a little sheepish.
“Lucifer himself?” Sam speaks. His voice is hoarse, he hasn’t bothered to say a word in a long while.
“Yes, yes. I know I should have come to do this sooner, but I thought perhaps for once I could try to follow our regulations. When it comes to you two, I never seem to be able to.”
“Me and… Max?” He almost loses the name on his tongue.
Satan nods.
“I’m really pushing it with this one, too.” He rubs at his temples. “Hells aren’t supposed to cross over dimensions or time or anything like that, but he’s impossible to control. We’ve tried everything.”
What in the… hell (yuk yuk) is he going on about?
Satan pulls a jar from behind him, popping the lid off. A round ball, a soul, floats out. It’s glowing brightly white, and flits around before lowering to the floor and taking shape.
“God DAMN! That jar was more cramped than the brain container! And without the nutritious demon broth!”
It’s… it’s Max!
Sam still can’t get out of his seat. He strains his muscles, pulling desperately, but he can’t. It’s like hot chains are wrapped around his body. Is this another part of the torture method? His face burns hot with embarrassment. Maybe he’d be tearing up if he could.
Max then seems to notice. He makes eye contact.
“…Sam!” He starts to smile brightly, but it quickly turns to anger.
One of the bully demons has stolen Sam’s lunch again, letting out a raspberry.
“Hey! What’s the big idea! He was going to… EAT THAT!” Max pounces with a high pitched snarl. The demon screams bloody murder, throwing Sam’s paper bag into the air. The invisible shackles loosen and the dog catches his lunch, finally standing up.
What a relief.
Sam brushes off his suit, smoothing out wrinkles. He turns his attention. Satan’s still there, arms crossed.
“Good, good. We’ll make a new pocket Hell for the both of you, then.” The Lord of Darkness says it like he’s talking about doing his taxes.
No idea what that means, but with a snap of red clawed fingers, they’re in… their office! All back to normal. At least it seems so. This is still Hell, so what’s the catch?
Max groans.
“I wasn’t done tearing his flesh off!”
“Tough.” Satan replies. “I’ll leave you two to… figure it out. Happy eternity, then.”
And with a blink of an eye, he disappears.
Sam and Max look at each other for a beat. Then, they waste no time at all, closing the gap between them. The rabbit leaps into his arms. Sam squeezes his buddy tightly, cradling his big head.
“…Max.” He doesn’t mean to say it in such a gooey breathless way. “How in the world are you here…?”
“Wh– Sam, I was gonna ask you the same!” He hops out of the embrace, looking confused. Now Sam’s lost.
“You didn’t…” Max’s face changes to horror, then his ears droop. “Oh, you big galoot. C’mon. I didn’t think you were the type to do that.”
“No, what? Max… I made sure you were okay, before I left. Did something else happen?”
“Huh? Left?”
Okay, something is up. What’s with all the confusion and contradictions? They usually are on the same page about everything.
“Have you already forgotten, little buddy? Brain stealing space apes, freaky marionettes… Me, with electromagnetic powers?” He gestures to himself.
“WHOA, whoa. Not that last one!” The lagomorph’s eyes go wide, shining like black marbles. “I would definitely remember that. I got psychic powers and turned into a huge lago-monster, so we could’ve compared notes!”
“You–”
Suddenly it clicks in Sam’s head. This isn’t the Max he left standing on the roof. That one is still alive. It’s someone else.
Okay then, time to figure this out. He puts his hand to his chin, furrowing his brow.
“Oh, no. No, Sam. Don’t make that face. I will not be put through a dialogue tree.”
“I’m going to ask whether you like it or not, little buddy.”
The rabbit heaves a heavy sigh and hops up to sit on Sam’s desk. “Fine. FINE! Shoot.”
Sam’s got a hunch in his mind. Better ask now before Max gets distracted.
“Do you remember the time elevator?”
“Uh, duh. Of course. I wanted to go back to the mesozoic age and step on one of those single celled organisms.” Max picks at his nose, then flicks whatever he’s gotten… somewhere. “Too bad those nasty guys stole it from us, huh.”
There it is.
“I believe I was one of those nasty guys, Max.” Sam emphasizes by pressing both of his hands to his chest.
“Wuh— wait a second…” You can almost hear the dial up modem sound as the lagomorph tilts his head to one side and squints. “Ooohhh! I get it now. I think. Maybe?”
“You traveled to the past, we stole the time machine.” Sam restates, pointing back and forth between them.
“Right. Yes! Okay. I didn’t recognize you without the banjo. You kept stupidly asking about the moon.”
“Well, I wanted to know.” Simple as that.
Max rolls his eyes and thumps his feet against the front of the desk.
“Sooo … does that mean you didn’t do any of the cases I’ve done?” Max asks. “Not that I remember many of the details.”
Sam shrugs, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“We could always compare notes. That is, if you have notes. Wherever you keep them.”
“None of your–”
“Damned business, yes.”
So they do just that. Sam plops onto the stiff office couch and recounts some of the past two years to Max, after he was dumped into the wacky alternate universe. Seems like most of it is similar, despite small little discrepancies. His little buddy is excited by the idea of an army of Max clones, bouncing where he’s sitting.
“They must have been irresistible!”
“Maybe a little.” Sam half jokes.
“Awwww, Sam.” Max puts his hands on his face and plays pretend bashful. It’s cute. Gives Sam the urge to pinch the guy.
Sam wonders how on Earth this could possibly be Hell. Satan did say this was still a little pocket dimension just for them. So where’s the torment? He wants to investigate. As far as he’s concerned, any situation where he’s stuck with his little buddy could not be bad.
“Quit staring at me like that, Sam.”
The canine pulls out of his stupor. Right… maybe he shouldn’t have sentimental thoughts while making eye contact with his partner. Max is his best friend. He can’t make this weird.
“I was just wondering, Max. What do you think is the catch?”
“To this?” Max looks around the room. “Why don’t we find out?” He hops off the desk and starts wandering. Ah, that feels natural.
Sam sets about inspecting objects. Remarking about them out loud. Everything’s in its place, nothing missing. So then… what?
He looks out of the window. New York looks normal, if not a bit red tinted. Hm.
Sam places his hands on his hips. Thinking.
“Look, Sam. The light on the answering machine is goin’.”
“So it is.” The dog hits the playback button.
“Hello, this is Satan. By now I do hope you’ve noticed you can’t actually, erm. Leave. In more ways than one, of course.”
Max wiggles the knob of the office door. He hops up and braces his feet on the wood, tugging with all his might.
“Hhrrnnggg!!! Oof!” He falls to the floor. Pops back up. “Okay, yeah. We can’t.”
Satan keeps rambling on.
“The phone won’t work either, so don’t hope for a call or one of your silly cases.”
Max is peering through the open window.
“I wonder if we can jump out!”
“I doubt it, Max.”
“Erm— that’s all…” the crackling of the answering machine gets worse. “Enjoy eternal damnation. Maybe I will drop by if I get bored.”
The machine beeps.
Sam turns to see Max leaning out the window, pushing against some invisible force. Hm.
He pulls his buddy back inside before he can hurt himself.
“It’s okay, Max. I don’t think this is all that bad.”
“No cases?! Stuck in one room?! It’s awful!” Max goes limp and falls to the ground in dramatic agony.
“Faith and Begorrah, ‘lil pal. Don’t throw a fit.” Sam places his hands in his pockets, just watching the lagomorph wriggle.
“I can’t be kept cooped up!!! I need something to keep me violently occupied!”
Sam sighs and snatches his partner back off the floor, slinging him over his shoulder and walking across the room to deposit the guy roughly back on the couch.
“Anything is better than what I was doin’ before, far as I’m concerned.” He remarks.
Max seems to deflate into the cushion.
“That’s true. You always hated lunchtime back in school.” He says, resigned.
Sam sits down beside him. There’s a moment of quiet where they both look around the room, realizing this is really it. Forever just in one place. No leaving, no more convoluted puzzle solving. It hurts Sam a little bit, a sort of grief at the loss of his own life… the things he could’ve been doing now if he was alive, the people he could help.
He supposes he managed to help a lot of people by dying, though. Spared them any more of his monster rampage.
“Hey... Max?”
“Yuh-huh?”
“You were a huge lumbering monstrosity too?”
Sam turns a curious eye towards the little guy. Max looks somewhat surprised by the question. He sits up from his previous slumped position.
“Yeah! It was honestly… really, really cool. Having psychic powers, that is. Except for the fact that everyone got so handsy with me!” Max scoffs. “Like with my brain specifically!”
Sam nods along. Same thing happened to him. It was pretty insulting to be wanted for your powers alone. He can tell Max is troubled by it all. It hurts to see him frowning like this.
”But the catch with being a super freakin’ powerful Eldritch beast… was that I didn’t have much… control?” Max furrows his brow. “I dunno Sam. My brain got pretty damn scrambled, actually! I started thinkin’ some… weird thoughts.”
“Mine did too, to be honest with you.” Sam folds his hands in his lap. He feels a lot of shame about it. It was so uncivilized of him to become a humongous snarling beast. Honestly.
Max’s feet swing off the edge of the couch. He opens his mouth and speaks in a strange, quiet voice.
“So, I guess we can spend this time wallowing in our mutual monster misery, huh.”
Nice alliteration, Sam thinks.
“I suppose. I’m just glad you have no idea what I looked like. I’d never hear the end of it.” Sam places a hand on Max’s head. The lagomorph perks back up.
“Well now you have to tell me!!”
Sam chuckles fondly. He pulls Max into another big bear hug, to which the rabbit squeaks in surprise.
“Y’know, there’s no one else I’d wanna share eternal torment with, though.” Avoiding the topic.
“Icky, Sam. Way too gooey.” Max contradicts his own words by gripping tightly at Sam’s sleeve. Sam can feel his little pink nose nuzzling into his neck. He tries to prevent the heat that burns his face.
“I just wonder where I’m supposed to sleep,” The canine wonders aloud.
“Do we even have to sleep?”
“Good question.”
Max shifts in his grasp and pulls away, situating himself at Sam’s side and leaning his big head on his arm. Sam pets at his friend’s noggin, between his ears. Whatever. No one’s ever gonna walk in on this.
In the silence that settles, his thoughts wander to Max. Not the one sitting here, the one on the roof holding a detonator. Will he be okay? Will he be able to figure out what to do next?
Then there’s the question of himself, the one who didn’t turn into a monster. He’s left astray too, most likely. Sam tries to imagine how he must feel. It’s not hard to picture. A horrible numb hopelessness, most likely. Confusion, uncertainty. Something he had wondered while sitting at that hellish lunch table was: this was it? No more Max? No more anything?
But now here Max is. Without a Sam. A Max just for him.
He has no idea if that other Sam out there would appreciate it, but he’ll make sure this Max is okay, from here on out.
“Hey, I just thought of something.” He’s pulled from his inner monologue by Max’s voice.
“What’s that, Max?”
“My Sam should meet up with your Max. They both have a lot in common, like we do.” The rabbit gazes up at him.
“Whaddya know? I was pondering the same thing.” Sam grins. “You know, we still had the elevator. If Max is smart— and I know that’s a fifty-fifty shot…” Max giggles. “He’ll go try to use it. Thing’s been busted up for forever now, but…”
“I’d be just desperate enough to try anything.” The lagomorph pipes up. “If suddenly you just popped out of existence, I think I’d tear reality asunder.”
“That’s sweet, pal.”
Max shrugs and smiles.
“What can I say? I can’t lose my sidekick!”
Sam pulls him in and gives him a hard noogie. Max cackles in delight.
They spend their time how one would expect. Playing darts, having pretend stand offs, drawing pictures, watching TV. The channels are all the same, the commercials are just demon themed now. It’s a little boring sometimes, but not completely unbearable. Max admits it would be worse if he was alone, which Sam says he wished he had recorded on tape.
Though sometimes Max mentions how awesome of a monster he was, Sam generally doesn’t bring up details of his own rampage. It was really embarrassing. He’s not a destructive guy, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Especially Max, who he probably hurt the most by, well… dying. He feels so guilty about that.
He just hopes that the little guy knows how much he’s sorry about it. He could always express that to this Max, but it’s not one hundred percent the same, really.
He tries not to let all of that eat at him as they fall asleep in front of the TV.
When Sam does awaken a few hours later, some cheesy romance movie is playing. His hat lays askew on his head, so he takes it off. He wants to scoff and change the channel or shut the set off, but Max is sleeping, and leaning quite heavily on Sam’s chest. The canine heats up, nervous that the lagomorph will be angry if he wakes and finds them all snuggled.
Though, Sam has been wondering these past few… whatevers. Time passes strangely here, who knows how long it’s been.
Max doesn’t mind being close. He doesn’t mind when Sam says something sentimental. He teases a little, but he never seems bothered or upset. So maybe…
He gives up and just tunes his brain out to the movie. The couple is confessing their feelings and leaning in to kiss when Max stirs awake.
“Eww, did you—“ He yawns. “Put this on?”
“By Poseidon’s beard, no. I just couldn’t get up with your cute yet bulbous head on top of me, Max.”
The lagomorph rubs at one eye.
“Eh, just push me onto the floor next time.”
“Noted.” Sam taps at his head to indicate so.
Max lays back down right where he was. Sam resists the urge to fiddle with one of those long white ears.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll let you suffer through this movie a little longer,” Comes Max’s voice.
“Oh, joy. It’s like I’m in Hell.”
There’s a small snort.
They watch as the couple says their wedding vows, and Sam zones out. He has considered marrying Max. Mostly for the money benefits it might give them, but they don’t pay taxes anyway.
“Mm.” Max lets out a tiny hum. “Hey, that feels nice.”
In his distracted state, Sam had started to grasp at one of the soft rabbit ears. He pulls his hand back, completely mortified with himself.
“Ah— sorry, Max.”
“Wh— hey! Didn’t you hear me? I liked it!”
Oh.
He reaches back out, touching the soft appendage. Runs his knuckles over the fur of the back. Max hums again, nuzzling Sam’s chest.
Okay, this is weird, right? This is a lot of affection.
“Max, would you ever have married me?”
He blurts it out without thinking.
“Are you asking that ‘cause of the movie?” The little guy turns his head up and stares with wide eyes.
“It did bring it to the forefront of my mind.” Sam tries not to look terrified by his own stupidity. Max’s eyes bore into him for a long few seconds. It’s dark but… is he… blushing? No, that’s not possible in the slightest.
“Well. Yeah.”
“Huh?”
“I would’ve married you if you asked me. But I mean, would there really be a point? We were gonna be together forever, anyway. Legally bound or not.” Max turns his attention back to the film.
Sam’s heart rate quickens.
“I see.” He tries not to grip the ear in his hand too tightly. “I was thinking similarly. The financial benefits would not really be much, for us.”
“Nope.” Max agrees instantly.
There’s another pause as the sappy credit music from the TV fills the room.
The lagomorph sits up, turning to face Sam as he sits in a kneeling position on the couch. Sam tries to read him in this light, but it’s difficult. The blue from the TV mixed with the red from the window make Max look purple and otherworldly, and some of that afterlife haziness doesn’t help.
He’s sort of breathtaking.
“Even without all the upsides, I still would, though.” Max shrugs.
… Wait.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Like you always say, Sam. Can’t think of a reason not to.”
He’s flattered.
“Gee, Max. S’almost like you’re in love with me.” He says it jokingly with a hesitant smirk, but Max does not retort. He’s unreadable again.
Sam waits.
A beat.
Nothing?
“Uh… no comeback, pal?”
“All I could give ya is a yes.”
… Wait. …Again.
Sam doesn’t have time to open his mouth and ask anything, because Max slides his hands down the lapels of his suit jacket and pulls their faces together. Somehow, despite their current location, Sam feels a chill through his body. The fur on his neck stands up when Max cups his jaw.
He’s a bit too flabbergasted to properly return the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away.
But when Max does, the rabbit shakes his head.
“You’re the biggest idiot I know, Sam.” He says, hand still hovering around the dog’s chin.
“I— Max, well…”
“C’mon, Sammy. Kiss me properly. This is Hell, so that means you physically can’t freeze up on me.”
The joke breaks Sam out of his confused daze, and he laughs.
“Okay, okay. Max… give me a tick. I wasn’t expecting this.”
“You should not expect anything from me, Sam.”
“That’s true. I just thought maybe after thirty years I was close to seeing the patterns.”
Max smiles.
”Oh, and Sam? Don’t say ‘tick’.”
Sam rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his partner's waist. He tilts his head, leaning forwards.
He’s shocked by Max’s gentleness. His pleasant warmth. The neediness that he conveys with how he kisses. The way his fuzzy white paws cradle the dog’s muzzle. It all washes over Sam in waves, dealing blow after blow of sickening adoration for his partner.
When they part for breath, the canine strokes a thumb over Max’s face.
“How’d you ever resist me, huh Sam?” The little guy grins as he toys with one of the dog’s ears.
“No idea, Max,” He breathes.
So there’s a first time for everything.
A first kiss, a first talk about feelings. And the fact that they’re probably the first souls in Hell to decide to tie the knot. Obviously it’s nothing official, but Sam is happy to call Max his husband from now on. It just feels so right, along with the other titles and nicknames he gives to his little pal.
‘Til death do us part.
How laughable.
When it comes to him and Max, things like that don’t factor in.
They keep as busy as they can with the limited space. They get creative, move the furniture around. Play weird games. Cuddle or kiss (or violently fight) in unorthodox places.
What had Satan said when he left them here? ‘Enjoy Eternity’?
Sam’s pretty sure he will. And then, maybe some more after that.