Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

23 minutes.  

That wretched die-headed fool had left him sitting at a table by himself for over 23 minutes while he was off doing god knows what.

The evening started off nice enough. He and Dice had been relishing in each other's company after a long day apart. Simply indulging in fine wine, soft crooning jazz and the finest dishes money could buy, right until he noticed a debtor waltzing into the restaurant like they owned the place.

Watching the display of swagger knowing the leech had a huge outstanding balance with him took the blood right from under his nails. Even though he was technically off the clock, and on a date no less, Dice had encouraged him to confront them. Only to make sure they understood their dire position of course, generously excusing the overtime as “Just a quick scare to tie up loose ends.”

As someone who wrote the book on being scary, he didn't need to be told that twice.

After going over and chewing the bum out until they cried uncle and fled the restaurant he returned to his seat only to find his partner missing. Seeing as his manager was one to take great care of his appearance he merely assumed he was off somewhere combing his mustache or powdering his pips.

So he waited.

And waited.

But by the time their fifth course arrived he had grown tired of waiting.

Like any normal person would do in this situation he decided to pop over to the men’s bathroom to check if his date was still there. Surely he was just exploiting the other luxurious facilities the restaurant provided. After finding nothing but empty stalls and an overly ambitious bathroom attendant who kept offering him hot towels however he could feel a vein start to throb on his forehead.

Still, he wanted to give King the benefit of the doubt here. Maybe he ran into someone on his way over to the restroom and got caught up saying hello. Maybe a fan had temporarily taken him hostage for a picture. Or maybe this was all part of some big elaborate ruse that they would surely laugh about for years to come.

Yeah right.

After storming back to their table he had grabbed a sommelier by the bowtie and demanded to know if he had seen the person he had been previously sitting with. When the garcon feverishly replied that he had seen a die-headed man leave the establishment through the back about half an hour ago he was sure his dear manager had a death wish.

Needless to say, he'd set fire to every tablecloth, curtain, apron and napkin he passed on his way out.

Going out on halloween night had become somewhat of a tradition between them. Every year they'd have a fancy dinner at one of their favorite spots in Inkwell, leave their business in the hands of their lesser employees and go live it up in purgatory's hottest nightclubs.

Aside from this night off being a well-deserved break for the two of them before the holiday season began, it was also an occasion to get away from the atrocious festivities that took place in town during this time of year. The happy families out trick-or-treating, the ridiculing of the occult and the blatant disregard for anything that was actually scary were also big factors in this decision.

Not to mention the people who saw him out and about and felt the need to comment on his appearance. If he hears anyone say, "Nice horns man, where did you buy them? " Or "Great costume, but aren't you hot in that get-up? " One more time, losing their souls to him was going to be the least of their problems.

Currently, he is scoping out a densely overgrown park near the outskirts of town, having run out of any other places his partner might have run off to. He had already sent out a couple of imps to scout the inner city to no avail. Dice wasn't at home or back at the casino, nor had he been spotted anywhere near the currently bustling city center.

As he ventures farther he considers the possibility that his partner might have returned to the restaurant in the meantime and that he is wasting his time wandering around looking for him, but that thought is cut short when he notices a figure stumbling around in the distance.

It's undoubtedly his manager. He'd recognize that silhouette anywhere.

With his rage rekindled he promptly teleports after him, momentarily vanishing in a poof of smoke. When he pops back into view, he's standing a hair away from the person he's been trying to find for the better part of the evening.

It's definitely his King alright.

Well, at least,

Most of him.

The front of the showman's purple attire is completely covered in deep brown sludge, as if he belly-flopped face first into a pile of mud, with the number of twigs and leaves that clung to his body he could easily pass for a rampant scarecrow and then there was this other teeny tiny thing off about the manager that you could only spot if you looked at him in just the right light.

His head was missing.

It's not how he expected to find his partner but it doesn't extinguish any of his anger in the slightest. Lulling people into thinking they had the upper hand was Dice's bread and butter, so while this was a convincing sight he was certain King was fully in control of this situation. Which is why he remains stoic even after the disheveled showman bumps into him.

"Alright wise guy, where's the rest of you?" The Devil grunts.

King's body seems instantly startled by his sudden appearance, taking a few steps away from him and huddling his back against the nearest tree it can find, looking thoroughly intimidated. He even holds up his arm to shield his body from any possible oncoming harm.

An inkling of doubt starts to form in the Devil's mind but he squashes it instantly, getting up in King's face, that being if he had one at the moment.

"I am not in the mood for any more of your games, Dice." He booms, "You've been made, so it would be in your best interest to act like it."

With one hand still on the bark of the tree, the showman goes to swat him away, trying and failing to put some space between them. When it becomes evidently clear that he isn't going to budge, Dice takes a swing at him. It's sluggish at best and he can see it coming from a mile away, catching fist with ease, holding him in place.

The tight grip he’s keeping Dice's knuckles in gives him an opportunity to look him over. Aside from the missing head there doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with him, especially if he can still throw punches.

Meanwhile, the manager hasn't lost his fighting spirit yet. He recoils his fist out of the Devil's grasp momentarily only to snatch the leathery hand that first caught the blow out of the air, causing the adversary's claws to jut out as a warning.

When Dice comes into contact with them however he stops dead in his tracks. 

With caution, the showman rakes a finger over one of his hooked nails before he reaches out towards him again, timidly groping the air between them.

The Devil lets out a low whine. His conviction that this was a ruse had completely waned. This being an elaborate scheme sounded like a sweet melody compared to whatever actually happened to his manager to make him lose his head and act like this.

Sensing that his partner’s body was close to solving this riddle, he narrows the distance between them, gloved hands clumsily finding his cheeks, ears and the base of his horns. Once properly convinced King settles for squeezing his shoulders, seeming very relieved to now be in his capable hands.

All of the attention was leaving him a little hot-blooded. "Yeah uh, relax purple pips it's me. What the hell happened to you?"

The showman's body looks completely miserable as it takes a step back and curtly holds up two fingers.

Charades. He can work with that.

King starts off by daintily mimicking drinking a cup of tea, pinky up and follows it up by sharply gesturing to the space where his head used to be.

It takes him a second to put the pieces together, when he does he can't help the dark amusement that lights up his features.

"Wait, don't tell me those dirty dishes got to you?” He presses, unable to suppress the unbridled glee in his voice.

Dice’s body, somehow even more crestfallen than before, gives him a very strained thumbs up.

The brothers Cuphead and Mugman were notorious troublemakers around town. He can even remember a couple of times where Dice had caught them trying to sneak into the casino. They were mostly known for pulling pranks and causing other general mischief, so decapitation was a new high for them. While he didn't particularly like the idea of their own joint reputation being publically dragged through the mud, he had to admit the idea of his priss of a boyfriend somehow being outsmarted by two snot-nosed kids after walking out on him was also incredibly funny.

So he just cackles.

It's loud and hardy, and he's pretty sure that if his manager is still around he should be able to hear him. He couldn't stop if he tried, to him this was absolute poetry.

His headless companion looks more aggravated by the minute as he continues to convulse with laughter, the man's whole posture radiating a particularly potent flavor of misery that he can't help but poke fun at.

“For someone who’s supposed to be the gamest in the land you sure are a sore loser.” He ribs, wiping a tear from his eye.

Upon hearing the jab the body abruptly lunges at him, grabbing him by the fur on his chest and shoving him up against a tree while his other animated hand desperately tries to mimic a more thorough account of the events. Even though he loved watching his manager effortlessly bounce unruly guests around the casino he didn’t like being at the end of that stick one bit. Not in this context.

"How about you save me the sob story and tell me which way they went.” He barks, narrowing his eyes at the assailant.

The distraught body pauses for a second before loosening his grip and releasing him, hesitantly pointing in different directions. It looks unsure of where it even stumbled out from.

"Not a clue huh? What a surprise."

As he squints over the path the showman had been lingering on he notices two sets of footprints on the muddy ground leading away from the city and farther into the forest. He knows these woods like the back of his hand. If he found King's head he'd be back out here in less than a few minutes.

That being If he was alone.

With his right-hand man's body being in the shape that it is, he considers leaving him here might be the better option if he wants to prevent him from getting any more banged up. Then again if another group of hooligans came by to mess with him he'd be back at square one.

"They can't be far, that noggin' of yours is heavy cargo." He mumbles under his breath, turning back to face his headless companion.

"Why don't you stay here and sit pretty while I go after them so I can-"

Before he can finish speaking Dice's body starts to reach for him again. When he finds one of his hands he tightly grabs ahold of it and intertwines their fingers, holding them up for the Devil to see. Clearly not planning on leaving his side any time soon.

"Fine, have it your way. But when we find them you'll let me at ‘em first."

With that the showman squeezes his hand in agreement before joining him at his side. He can't help but be enamored with King's tenacity even in this sorry state. He'd kiss that hand if his partner was here to see it.

And so they began their slow but vengeful trek into the woods.

Chapter Text

King was in hell, actual hell, he was sure of it this time.

Even before pledging his undying allegiance to the Devil, he always knew he would end up here.

Considering the multitude of crimes he committed, the slew of vices he accumulated over the years, and the many, many, many people he crossed during his lifetime, it was only a miracle he wasn't called in sooner.

He understood that this divine punishment had been tailor-made to be his own personal nightmare, but did it have to be so humiliating?

Their night started off well enough. He and the Devil had been having a slow relaxing evening together, taking the time to catch up with each other over fine wine and candlelight while also trying to decide which of the waiter's heads would look the best on a pike. Everything was fine and dandy, right up until he noticed those snot-nosed cups practically mouth-breathing against the window adjacent to their table.

While trying to murder them with his eyes, the Devil had spotted an old debtor that still had a big outstanding balance with them strolling into the restaurant and seeing it as the perfect opportunity to slip away for a moment, he encouraged him to go after them. He then chose to leave through the back so as to not alert the Devil of his absence. He wasn't about to up the big cat's blood pressure over something as minor as this.

Once he made his exit he found the brothers almost instantly. He couldn't even get a word in edgewise before they excitedly started telling him about the huge haul of candy they had accumulated over the evening.

After kindly telling them to scram they offered him a deal. They’d leave him and the Devil alone if he came along to check out the stash they had hidden somewhere in inkwell.

Wanting to keep things civil for the evening he reluctantly agreed.

After following the brothers around town to what he felt like was just a wild goose chase they found themselves at the edge of the forest. They still had ways to go but he refused to walk any further, absolutely not in the mood for any more of their shenanigans.

They didn't make him an offer this time.

What they did instead was trip him up and take his head for a ride, promising to bring him back as soon as possible. His body immediately gave chase but without his head to provide it any guidance it didn't get very far.

Sooner or later they arrived at the hiding spot. The cups certainly weren't bragging about their haul but he wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of admitting so. When he pointed out instead that there was absolutely no way they were going to carry the bags of candy out of there they came up with another brilliant solution.

To lighten the load they would simply have to "share" some of the candy with him.

"Now what hasn't he had yet?" He hears Cuphead ask, accompanied by the by now all too familiar crinkling of candy wrappers. "Sweet! I still got those cans of pop Porkrind gave us. Anything you wanna throw in this time, Mugs?" 

“Hmmm let’s see. I still have some butterscotch, a few gumballs, a roll of peppermints and- Hey!"

"Oh yeah mints! That oughta do the trick." 

"Give ‘em back! I-I was saving those!" Mugman objects.

He was done for. Any minute now those brats were going to reconcile and feed him a concoction that would either suffocate him or blow his head to smithereens and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them. What an undignified way to go.

In their tug of war the two brothers don't notice the piercing yellow eyes staring daggers at them amongst the trees. They also don't notice how the forest suddenly goes quiet or the smell of scorched earth and brimstone becoming more prevalent in the air with each passing moment.

Cuphead gives the roll of mints a good tug and yanks the candy right out of his brother's hands, landing on the ground butt-first. When he doesn’t hear Mugman protest he looks up only to be met with a certain infamous golden trident, red-hot in his attackers’ hands and pointed inches from his face.

"Boo."

“RUN!”

The brothers scatter in an instant but the Devil's quick on the draw, cocking his trident back and blasting a few fire bolts in their direction.

This isn't their first day at the rodeo though. The boys quickly zigzag between bushes and narrowly avoid getting hit before they fully gun it out of the clearing, yelling their little lungs out as they do.

Once the cups are past his line of fire and he can only hear the echoes of their screams ring out through the forest he dematerializes his trident, turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

King is floating somewhere halfway between a sugar rush and a sugar crash when he hears all hell break loose behind him. Through the haze he picks up on the now familiar aria of destruction and feels a flood of relief wash over him, immediately followed by a cold pang of dread as he contemplates what the Devil will think of him after finding him in this extremely compromising position.

As the cacophony of noise dies down the forest grows blissfully quiet again. The only sound he hears now are heavy footfalls crunching leaves on the forest floor as they make their way towards him, the sound growing louder with each step until they halt right in front of the two pips on the bottom of his head.

When he gingerly opens his eyes he sees the Devil looming over him against the starry night sky. The glint of his sharp teeth in the moonlight shining brighter than any of them combined.

"Found you." He coos, venomous, affectionate.

Dice doesn't get a chance to respond, because the next thing he feels is a pair of firm hands lifting his head up and off the ground. He has half a mind to close his eyes to ward off another dizzy spell, but going off of feeling alone he assumes his knight in shining armor had momentarily shapeshifted another pair of arms to hold him up and to brush off any dirt that was caked to the back of his head. 

After a moment he hears the Devil throw a; "Get over here." followed by, "Kneel." Over his shoulder, shortly after which he is plopped down on a pair of broad shoulders he instantly recognizes as his own.

Slowly, the command over his body returns to him, like a tea bag steeping in hot water. He feels his arms holding up his torso and his gloved hands grounding him on the forest floor before he feels his feet planted firmly on the earth in between them. The readjustment doesn’t help him feel less hazy so it's a bit of a balancing act to stay upright.

His first instinct after regaining complete control is to gag and make a stiff grab for the handkerchief in his front pocket. After finding it in a relatively unsoiled state he brings it to his mouth, vigorously wiping the remaining sugary mess off of his mouth and mustache.

Above him he hears the Devil snicker, “Oh, those cups got you good huh?” His right hand now outstretched in front of the showman's face.

He pauses his retching to eye it with suspicion. Going off of his partner's expression he's got a fifty-fifty chance of getting dropped on his ass again. After a short deliberation he takes it anyway, holding onto the adversary's wrist with his other hand to even the odds as he pulls himself up.

Once he's standing he notices the Devil leering down at their entangled hands. A look that he can't quite parse flicks across his face before they lock eyes again, not letting go.

"Say, that body of yours sure gets handsy when you're not up there calling the shots. A lot quieter too, can't say I hate it. Might even take my sweet time looking for you if this ever happens again."

If the stunt those kids pulled on him didn't already piss him off enough, he was surely seething now. With any inhibition to stifle his anger thrown completely out the window, he digs his fingers into the adversary's hairy forearm and abruptly pulls him forward, nearly headbutting him in the process.

"While you’re at it could you also find someone else who’s willing to fool around with you? It would certainly save me the trouble of going near that deathtrap you call a mouth ever again." He spits back.

After that he promptly releases the fur covered arm and lets that statement hang in the air. He figures he should at least pretend to be grateful with the Devil saving his hide and all, but in all honesty he can't be bothered. His suit was absolutely ruined with mud, his head is pounding, not to mention his body feels as if he's about to give birth to a bouncing baby hernia.

He expects the Devil to take the hint and give him some space, but his grin widens even more after hearing his retort.

"There he is! There's my Dice." He delights, sneaking a long gangly arm around his padded shoulder.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Did the Devil also think he had lost his mind when he found his beheaded body at the edge of town?

"Most people up here are a little fragile , then again I know you were never one to follow trends."

He wasn't. Clearly he was above the average Inkwell citizen in every conceivable way. 

He was not, however, above feeling cold.

Reuniting with his body also returned his senses below the neck and the late autumn wind nipping at his heels was becoming more noticeable with each passing moment.

Still being this close to him the Devil must've noticed him shivering, because the next thing he does is pull out a cigar seemingly out of nowhere and offers it up to him. He most likely nabbed it out of his own silk lined pockets on the way over here but he supposes it's the thought that counts.

He takes it and holds it between his trembling fingers while the Devil untangles himself and gets in front of him to light it using a flame that sparks up from the top of his thumb, the pale blue glow momentarily illuminating them both.

Despite the circumstances he takes comfort in the ritual of it. The familiar song and dance of shielding the flame from the elements even though it's as bright and steady as the pulse of its owner as well as the warmth blooming in his chest with each inhale. He takes a couple of long drags and relishes in the silence that lingers between them until he hears the Devil speak up, his voice low.

"I wasn't kidding back there you know."

He exhales the smoke from the side of his mouth, having completely forgotten about their little tiff in the moment. "About what?"

He can see the gears turning in his partner's head, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to form a coherent sentence. During their time together he found that like him the Devil had a habit of wrapping his true intentions in threats or innuendos, which was probably why he was struggling to find the right words now that he wasn't trying to hide behind them.

Seemingly done finding a less blunt way to speak his mind he flashes a toothy grin before saying,"That I like it when you're handsy with me." 

At this point he should know better than to expect anything remotely sympathetic to come out of that fiend’s mouth. Nevertheless if this was his own generous way of shifting the conversation away from his little fender-bender he would gladly take it.

"Is that so? Wouldn't want anyone to think you're going soft." He quips back, attempting to match the flirtatious tone while not trying to think about the muck that was currently ruining the inside of his leather shoes.

He taps off the excess ash before handing the cigar over to the Devil who's been eyeing it ever since it touched his lips. Once back in his hands he doesn't hesitate to take a quick drag, looking almost irritated to be reminded of his position as local boogeyman.

"Let 'em." He bristles, spitting out the words with a fiery hiss."If anybody thinks I'm soft because I'm dating you , they've got a big storm coming."

When the Devil looks up at him again he promptly deflates, his annoyance melting away as he lets out a snort that quickly turns into a full-blown giggle fit. It's missing the venom his ruthless snickering had, yet it still unnerves him to no end. 

Hasn't he been humiliated enough?

Dice tightly crosses his arms in front of his chest before huffing, "Any chance you can wrap this up? I think my feet are starting to turn a new shade of periwinkle out here."

"I’ll stop laughing when you stop looking funny. C’mere for a sec.”

The Devil beckons him to come closer and when he reluctantly complies starts rubbing at a bit of schmutz on his cheek with the pad of his thumb. Whether it's leftover dirt or something else he can't tell. With the way his partner is doting on him though it couldn't have stood out that much.

After a beat he murmurs,"Did I tell you I nearly burned the place down after I found out you left?"

Dice winces at that, "Don’t tell me you were actually worried?”

"Of course not." he scoffs, seemingly vexed by the mere suggestion alone “I just hate it when you try to ditch me. If you had somewhere else to be you could have let me know instead of running out on me like that."

"I didn't ." He counters and if he sounds bitter it's because he is,"I snuck off so I could tell those two hooligans to hit the bricks. Did'ya really think I wasn't coming back?"

He feels the gentle caress turn sharp in an instant, "Wouldn't be the first time."

And that was it wasn't it? They had an agreement and he didn't follow through, willingly or not.

For what it was worth, zilch, nada, less than pocket lint apparently , this wasn't how he wanted their evening to end. Nights off like these are unfortunately few and far between these days. Sure, the dingy little hole in the wall bars he used to drag the Devil off to when they were just starting out couldn't possibly compare to the classy joints they frequented today, but at least they spent more time together. Quick kisses while passing each other in the casino hallways or playing footsie under the table during meetings just weren't cutting it for him. 

As dissatisfied as he was with this, he had found that playing hooky had a lot more nasty consequences these days. A downside of making it big he supposes.

As his own animosity dissipates he finds himself leaning into the Devil's touch in spite of the sting, searching his narrowed eyes for an inkling of understanding.

"I didn't know you were looking forward to tonight as much as I was."

He feels the hand on his cheek drop off entirely and finds himself mourning the point of contact as he watches the Devil's indignant glare soften into something almost wistful, his brows tightly knit together.

"It's one of the few nights a year I get to have you all to myself, how could I not be?"

That gives him pause. It’s not like he didn’t know the Devil cared about him and what they had. Even if a certain four-letter word was still a touchy subject. But that was before he had his ass handed to him by those brats. There must be some truth to the shit-eating grins and the jabs he made.

The quiet calculating must have been clear to read on his face because the Devil gives him a knowing look, his crow's feet framing a more serene expression that only comes out when they spot each other across the floor again after a particularly long night at the casino before he says:

"You know King, you're really something else. Brains, brawn, the whole nine yards and never a dull moment. I don't know if I would have even stayed up here if it weren't for you."

Oh.

That silver-tongued snake had such a way with words sometimes. The praise makes his pruny little heart swell in his chest. The fact that the Devil was telling him this now, right after he just hit rock bottom was working like a soothing balm on his severely bruised ego. If only that little gnawing voice in the back of his mind would shut up already.

He goes to wrap his arms around the adversary's waist and rests his square chin on top of his left shoulder, heaving a tired sigh before croaking, "Even if I let myself get assaulted by a couple of kids?"

After what feels like an eternity but is probably no longer than a beat or two he feels the Devil melt further into the embrace, the hand that isn't holding the cigar warm and reassuring on his back. 

“Eh, let's say you're lucky nobody was out here to see it.”

The gesture and the teasing smile he can hear in his partner's voice is all he needs to come to the conclusion that he's blowing things out of proportion. After all, this little incident was nothing more than a fluke. It's not like those kids had any real power or malicious intent to harm him. If they did, there was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn't end very well for them.

He relaxes at the realization, letting out a sigh of relief. "Duly noted." 

He leans back so he can see his partner's face, his earlier malice replaced with tender mischief as he looks back at the only mortal man who can keep up with his antics. For the time being Dice keeps his arms snug around his waist, a playful smile now gracing his own lips.

"I gotta admit boss, I'm flattered to hear you still think I'm a hot commodity."

At that the Devil’s dopey expression morphs into something ferocious and he can suddenly feel the sharp end of his tail digging into his upper-thigh.

"Just don’t let it happen again, dollface ."

If there's one thing he can rely on, it's his partner taking any opportunity he can get to be overtly threatening. 

King plants a kiss on his cheek in an attempt to wipe that foreboding look off of his face before letting him go and holds out his arm for the Devil to take. Maybe they'd still be able to threaten the staff into giving them a doggy bag back at the restaurant.

Before he does though, he watches the Devil float over to where the brothers had left their bounty behind, weighing the heft of each bag before peeking inside of them, grinning ear to ear, his tail almost wagging.

"Hey Dice, looks like those schmucks left behind a mayor haul! You wanna get in on this with me?"

Just seeing the amount of candy that was still left made him break out into a cold sweat and he's instantly reminded of the acidic sugary bile sloshing around in his stomach. In an attempt to stave off the nausea he quickly averts his eyes from the bags of sweets.

"I'll pass."