Chapter Text
“Don’t tell me to smile,” Angel lifted his chin and made their height difference obvious. “That shit might have worked back in the days when being a man gave you a say in other people, but welcome to the present, Al. I don’t give a shit about what you want.”
Oh…
That was new.
Alastor was used to his mere presence unleashing natural survival instincts in other demons. Usually, they would run away without letting him finish a single sentence. People like Husk, who had lost interest in surviving, were the only ones who had the energy, or lack of that, to face him.
Alastor would never have associated that with Angel Dust.
Loud, unusual, and cheeky? Absolutely. He had easily associated Angel with happiness.
So that bitter answer was a curveball. Alastor had only suggested that Angel put a smile on that thoughtful expression. Usually, the response Alastor got from the spider demon was a tease or a joke. However, in the end, Angel obtained a smile with big teeth and sparkle in those two-colored eyes. Nothing compared to this kind of defiant attitude. Angel finished his glass of liquor, pushed it in Husk’s direction, and left the hotel.
“I warned you that Legs was having a bad day,” Husk rolled his eyes.
“You did it?” Alastor cocked his head.
Perhaps the warning glances the cat had thrown him were intended to alert him about Angel’s peculiar mood. But how was he supposed to guess that?
“What’s wrong with improving your mood with a big smile?”
“Sometimes I’m surprised you’re not just acting innocent,” Husk growled.
Alastor looked at him curiously.
“Have you not stopped to think that it might be something another Overlord demands of the kid?” Husk leaned his elbows on the bar and stared at him. “Sometimes asking someone to smile is part of the humiliation because they are forcing them to pretend that all the crap they get is something they like.”
Alastor blinked slowly. For him, smiling was the best mask, the perfect gesture that gave an advantage and confused opponents. Asking for a smile was encouraging victory. A smile could hide poisonings, and thievery and mislead potential witnesses. No one suspected a friendly greeting and a warm smile.
But as always, Husk was the voice of another reality quite different from Alastor’s, and the small revelation managed to get his attention enough to find out more about it.
“How do you know?” He looked curiously at the cat. “Has Angel told you?”
But as always, Husk just shrugged. After all, his chimera was the perfect confidant behind a glass of liquor. Husk’s abilities to listen to anything and give advice objectively were legendary. At least for Alastor.
“The kid doesn’t know what you mean by just saying your ridiculous phrases,” Husk explained. “The world doesn’t read your mind.”
“Unfortunately,” Alastor popped his microphone and twirled it between his fingers. “Things would be easier if it were that way.”
“People would go crazy.”
“You haven’t. He smirked.
“Who says I haven’t?” Husk rolled his eyes, but there was amusement in his voice. “Just…give Legs a little air to clear his head.”
Air…
Well, he wasn’t going to cover Angel’s mouth.
Alastor looked to his right, where his shadow took shape. It cocked its face waiting for an order and he snapped his fingers, letting it go and disappear.
“Motherfucker, do you seriously plan to keep an eye on the kid?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that for another demon,” Alastor looked at the incredulous cat. “You always say that I should learn from others.”
“And you never listen to me, even less in the way I mean.”
“It’s just a quick little watch,” Alastor captured his microphone. “You know how these things are.”
“You don’t spend as much time with someone unless you care,” Husk pushed a wine glass in front of him. “And yet you only do your little surveillance missions when you want something very specific.”
“Oh, my dear Husker, I thought you would be glad to see my initiative to understand our cherished Angel,” Alastor smirked. “It was your idea, after all.”
“I never told you to follow him. I didn’t even tell you to do anything,” Husk rolled his eyes. “You just have to be more perceptive, so you don’t look like a jerk.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Alastor raised his glass. “I perceive and I learn.”
Husk growled in exasperation, but he only widened his smile. They were in Hell. Why would Alastor have to stick to conventional methods when he had so many other and much more fascinating ways of obtaining information?
Eyes in the shadows.
Ears in the corners.
Control of the incomprehensible.
So, Alastor hunted and prowled the agile spider as Angel fought his working hours with his chin held high and his cunning mouth sharp.
And what Alastor discovered was sickening. Not for sex or drugs, not for recordings, injuries, falsehood, or indifference. Those were things he’d known he’d look at when it came to Valentino. But the most insulting in all that circus of abuse and humiliation was how something as valuable as a smile could be used as oppression. Valentino demanded that gesture from Angel with greater cruelty than chains and fire. It was worse than stripping him of his name and giving him another.
«Don’t fuck with me and just smile»
«Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby. Give Daddy that pretty smile of yours»
«Before you go, Angel Cakes, show me that smile of yours»
As if Valentino was forcing Angel to count each hit, but instead it was the humiliation of pulling the corners of his lips.
It was three in the morning when Alastor’s exploration was over because Angel Dust returned to the hotel. There wasn’t a single awake soul on the first floor and the sinner marched with his chin held high, even without an audience to sniff out his weakness.
Alastor smiled like his own torture tool and Angel carried his pride as his personal weapon. Loaded and with the barrel saluting whoever crossed his path.
In his own way, Alastor found all of that admirable.
Even fascinating.
He could see how Angel was the type of soul that could start revolutions, without bowing his head before any punishment and being the god of so many altars dedicated to sin there in Hell. A star, a merchandise, a fantasy, and a tool. In life and for much less, people would have burned cities for Angel.
“Stop hiding, Al,” Angel called, looking at the shadows swirling around him. “Once you get used to seeing eyes in the dark, it’s hard not to notice your presence, Smiles.”
Alastor chuckled and appeared sitting on the same stool he had been at the bar when Angel left them.
“Welcome back, my dear Angel.”
“Look, I’m sorry about the way I reacted, okay? I don’t need you to follow me around silently judging me,” Angel crossed his arms. “I just don’t like that phrase.”
“I didn’t mean to judge you,” Alastor gestured for him to come closer. “I’m aware that I have vastly unusual ways of seeing life and you said something that has its degree of truth. I can’t just assume that we speak the same language just because we inhabit this tempestuous city, can’t I?” He laughed in amusement. “But I owe you an explanation, my dearest Angel.”
“…no need…” The sinner took a step back, confused. “Look, it’s easy to confuse things…”
“When I talk about a smile, I don’t do it with the same intention that your employer does,” Alastor continued. “And no, I shouldn’t expect you to notice the difference after he’s tainted the gesture to rot. So, I apologize.”
Angel blinked a few times, his eyes contrasting in the dark. One streetlight at night and the other pink fire. But despite the conditions, Angel genuinely smiled.
Splendid gesture.
There was always something interesting when a smile was made up of sharp teeth.
“Okay, thanks, Al. I guess once in a while there’s something nice about having a stalker,” Angel turned in the direction of the stairs. “Next time give me a warning or something.”
“People often get annoyed that I send my shadows to follow them,” Alastor snapped his fingers in the darkness and a replica of himself appeared on the stairs, blocking the light from the upper corridor, and preventing the sinner’s path.
“I’m a celebrity from Hell, I’m used to being looked at. In the way, you find it normal to be listened to,” Angel turned to look at him and it was obvious the darkness wasn’t a problem for the arachnid because they easily made eye contact. “Though I must not do anything to be seen while you must speak when you wish to be heard.”
“Is it at these hours of Lucifer that philosophy floods your mind, my sweet Angel?” Alastor teased, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.
“If I don’t have alcohol to drown out the voices or drugs to dilute the ideas... You can be sure that existential philosophy is going to start to depress me,” Angel joked, casting a glance toward the shadow still on the stairs. “Do you need anything, Al?”
Not really.
Not at all.
But he disappeared from the bar and took the place of his shadow in the stairs. Angel took a step back and swore at him in surprise. Alastor held out his hand and the darkness crackled as crimson symbols surrounded him.
“What are you planning?” Angel crossed his arms. “Your eyes are glowing, Radio Demon.”
So bold.
Angel had never succumbed to survival instincts when it came to the two of them.
So brave.
“I think I have what you need, my darling angel,” Alastor descended a step to shorten the distance between them. “Look into my eyes… Oh, yes, I know exactly what you want, and I can give it to you.”
“A deal?” Angel laughed and tried to dodge, but they ended up just shifting, giving Angel more height on the steps. “I’m not going to fall for another dance with an Overlord.”
“But I like to dance!” Alastor cocked his face. “And you too.”
“You know I don’t mean those kinds of dances,” Angel crossed his arms.
Alastor blinked slowly, softening his smile. In response, the sinner hesitated.
“You know that, right?”
“Perhaps,” Alastor put his foot on the step where Angel was standing and stretched up enough to get a close look at his face. “What have you got to lose? Your soul already belongs to Valentino and that brings you misery.” He whispered, forcing the sinner to lean in to hear him. “Being a celebrity, as you say, shouldn’t be about torture.”
“It’s Hell…” Angel took a step to the side, bumping into the wall, and laughed. “Remember what Husk always tells you.”
“That I should stop assuming people have my same twisted sense of humor?”
Angel laughed aloud.
“I like your sense of humor. But no,” Angel rolled his eyes. “He always tells you to respect the personal space of others.”
“Oh, that... But that’s boring,” Alastor confessed and took the place next to Angel to trap him further against the wall.
“Stop prowling around me, I’m not prey, Smiles,” Angel, always so daring, pressed his index finger on the Overlord’s chest to push him a little.
“Oh, of course! You’re a predator. A spider!” Alastor closed the distance between them and when Angel stumbled into the wall, he put distance, leaning against the wall next to Angel, one step higher. “In any case, between a spider and a deer, I would be the prey, right?”
“You know…? When I was a child and they forced me to go to church, I always thought it was curious that the demons in the paintings had traits of… herbivores,” Angel kept his arms crossed, wisely tucking his hands into his sides.
“Do I sense a compliment in that comment?”
“You perceive well, Al,” Angel shot him a look. “I already begged once for power, fame, sex, and greed. Things didn’t go well.”
“Oh, so sad… But I propose to release you from it!”
“Why?”
For a smile.
He had killed for less.
“I’m curious to know if, in the same way that you can become an Overlord, there is a way to stop being one,” Alastor smiled at him in the dark, his symbols lighting up around him again. “There are sinners who once become Overlords, they stop fearing many things. Can you imagine the panic that would arise if they saw that the same power they fought to obtain could suddenly be lost?”
“So, you want to help me because you want to ruin Valentino?” Angel sneered. “Why him and not someone else?”
The answer was easy.
Alastor had been born free and had descended into Hell fighting for that freedom. Even the souls that he had under contract were far from suffering the type of slavery that Angel and others lived with Valentino. He had been born free, but he learned and repeated the records of those who died being treated as a possession because History wasn’t forgotten. The memories of his ancestors lived on with him. Still there.
Alastor had killed for less.
Not out of nobility or because it was the right thing to do. But out of respect for the blood that was dropped for him to exist.
“The real question, my sweet angel is why not him? Why would I have to choose another?” Alastor responded, watching the symbols dance around his hand, shining like fire between the two of them. “Besides, I’ve been here longer promoting a smile in others than for him to come and try to do the same with his dirty intentions.”
Angel laughed incredulously as if his logic was crazy, and Alastor widened his smile.
“You must understand when an insect flies near something you have chosen for yourself, what should you do? Change target or kill the insect?”
Angel leaned in his direction, eyes searching his face for something. Alastor opened his gaze at the closeness and the sinner put a bit of distance between them.
“Time is running out, my dear angel,” Alastor put his hand between them. “For what it’s worth, I promise to give you what you want.”
“In exchange for?”
Because Angel wasn’t stupid.
“Give me everything you wish,” Alastor laughed, waving his fingers.
“That’s pretty ambiguous,” Angel slowly released one of his hands but pressed it against his chest. “What do I wish to give you?”
“Maybe your ear while I speak, your hand for a dance or your presence to be observed,” Alastor explained lightly. “My real entertainment will be that you trust me.”
“That’s going to be really hard,” Angel raised his eyebrows. “You’re not the type of demon who invite someone to a dance and warn what kind of rhythm it will play.”
“And that’s why it’s going to be so much fun watching you guess,” Alastor pulled his hand away, the symbols disappearing. “But I guess you can stay tied to Valentino…”
The small hand took his. Pale pink, like hyacinths, almost lost in the crimson of his gloves. Long white fingernails, far as thick as his claws. The symbols changed to an emerald chain encircling their wrists and creating a knot between them. Angel looked remorseful the second the contract closed. Not for a soul. But for something much bigger.
Will.
And no one could save the spider.
“Perfect,” Alastor released him, stepping aside. “It will be my pleasure to put on a show worthy of your attention. Maybe, and with luck, you can smile at what I have prepared for you.”
Angel pressed his hand against his chest and frowned.
Beautiful creature that empires would fight for in his honor. Not a martyr but a prize of war.
Alastor widened his smile.
The rhythm of the next song would be entertaining.