Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Angel Dust walked down the staircase to the first floor, heels clacking with each step against the hardwood flooring. He adjusted his red gown at the chest and did a quick double check of his nails - nothing fancy, just some short French tips that kept him looking fresh and well-groomed. Shiny, no chips or smears. Perfect. Angel approached the bar. Husk was at his post as usual, scrubbing at a glass. However, Angel Dust raised an eyebrow at who he saw perched on the leftmost bar stool.

“Hey Al, hey Husk,” Angel Dust called. Alastor swiveled in his seat, and Husk looked up from his work. “What's the difference between beer nuts and deer nuts?”

“Aha,” Alastor's voice glitched with static. “Good evening to you as well, Angel Dust.”

“I don't know, Angel.” Husk smirked. “What's the difference?”

“Beer nuts are a buck thirty nine, but deer nuts are under a buck!” Angel Dust guffawed and slapped the counter at his own joke, sliding right on up on the seat next to Alastor. “Ya’ like jokes, don't ya baby?”

“I'm afraid your jokes are a little crude for my taste, Angel Dust.” Alastor certainly knew by now not to give Angel Dust a reaction, but Alastor had a perturbed twitch to his smile. Angel Dust heard Husk snicker.

“Yeah yeah, you don't know how to have real fun. We get it.” Angel Dust turned to Husk. “What's new, pussycat?”

“Same shit we always have.” Husk shrugged. “Want the usual?”

“Mmm…” Angel Dust peered over to Alastor. He had a drink in his hand, some kind of dark liquor with one large ice cube. “I ain't never seen you drink before.”

“Of course I drink! Do you think I brought in a bartender solely for the hotel's sake?” Alastor took a sip of his drink. He seemed to be enjoying it.

“...gimme some of whatever he's having.” Angel Dust turned back to Husk. Husk shot him an incredulous look.

“You sure? It's just some pretty strong whiskey on the rocks. I know your tastes tend to be more…” Husk winced at his own choice of words. “Fruity.”

“Haha, you could say that. Seriously, I ain't never seen him drink. Lemme try.” Angel Dust made a grabby motion with his hands.

“Oho, I might refine your tastes yet.” Alastor's eyes softened slightly.

Husk grabbed a bottle with a pretentiously detailed label sitting next to Alastor. He didn't get out a full glass, instead, he only poured a shot's worth of alcohol. Husk screwed the lid back on and set it back down.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Husk grumbled. “And I ain't wastin’ good booze.”

“Try me.” Angel Dust grabbed the shot and threw it back. A sharp, bitter taste flooded his senses, somehow immediately permeating into his nose. He swallowed and felt the exact trail of heat it left as it burned down his throat and into his stomach. “Holy shit, that's strong!”

“You’re supposed to sip it, my dear.” Alastor laughed as he delicately took a small drink from his own glass. “That’s how you enjoy the deep flavors.”

“Of course you'd take the fun out of drinking, too.” Angel Dust rolled his eyes. No way Alastor drank something that tasted like motor oil for ‘the flavor’ for anything other than his own hoity-toity image. “Gotta wash my mouth out. Gimme a dirty Shirley.”

“That's more like you.” Husk took away the empty shot glass and began to mix the simple drink.

“Come to spend some quality time with me and Husker?” Alastor looked Angel Dust up and down. “You're awfully dolled up. I'm quite flattered, haha.”

“Pssh, nah, you wish. Just pre-gamin’.” Angel Dust waved his hand dismissively.

“Pre-game, you say?” Alastor tilted his head slightly. “What game are you attending?”

“Oh, right. Pre-gaming is like,” Angel Dust considered how to explain the newer slang. “Shit at the bar is expensive, so you wanna get a little buzzed before you go. I pre-game in here, and I get shitfaced for cheaper out there. Demons started sayin’ it a lot in the last couple decades or so.”

“I see! I'm not up to date on all the new-fangled party lingo.” Alastor replied. Meanwhile, Husk had finished Angel Dust's drink and slid it in front of him.

“Pssh, you wouldn't be.” Angel Dust stirred his drink with the cute paper umbrella. “Have you ever partied a day in your life? After or otherwise?”

“Oh, Angel Dust, you underestimate me!” Alastor laughed, and Angel Dust couldn't discern if it was genuine or condescending. “Of course I have! Why, in the living world I could be the life of the party!”

“Ahaha, really, you?” Angel Dust pointed a finger. “I can't see it.”

“I'm from New Orleans! You know, Mardi Gras?” Alastor's voice raised. “It's practically the party capital of the world that time of year! Nowhere better!”

“Huh, guess that's true…” Angel Dust never had any interest in Louisiana in his first life, but he had certainly heard of Mardi Gras and the things that went down there. Angel Dust took a long drink. “You still got some party in you, old man?”

“Hmmm?” Alastor locked eyes with Angel Dust. “Are you inviting me out for a night on the town?”

“Yeah. I wanna see that party side a’ ya.” Angel Dust stood his ground with a smirk.

“I'm not sure the modern nightlife is suitable for me these days.”

“We'll find somewhere good enough.” Angel Dust grinned. “‘Less the big bad radio demon is too pussy, of course.”

Alastor had no reaction at first. Angel Dust wondered if he had pushed his luck with that last part, but stepping on Alastor's ego was the best way to get under his skin. He leaned back a few inches, just in case.

“I see what you're trying to do, you know.” Alastor finally responded. He suddenly broke their little staring contest - but only to down the rest of his drink in one go. “But it does sound like fun. Finish your drink and let's go.”

“Woo!” Angel Dust pumped his fist. “Strawberry stag's going out on the town!”

—

Angel Dust knew every bar and club that opened and closed in the city, so it wasn't too hard for him to find a venue Alastor might enjoy. It was a smaller, quieter place than the more hard-core sinners tended to congregate to. Straight people went to it and everything. The pair stepped out of the taxi, and Angel Dust led the way. He even opened the door for Alastor.

“M'lady.” He bowed a little and grinned.

“Thank you kindly!” Alastor said, stepping on Angel Dust's foot as he walked inside. It wasn't a painful stomp, but his hoof was surprisingly sharp.

“Okay, sorry, geeze.” Angel Dust followed him inside.

The main entrance was an open bar area with a sturdy hardwood flooring. The hanging lights were somewhat dim, yet shone just bright enough to navigate the room in the darkness of the evening. Their warm, yellow glow punctuated with the curling smoke of cigarettes. Sinners congregated at tall, slender black tables, with seating arranged only against the walls to encourage intermingling at the center. A flickering pink and green neon sign hung on the wall over the establishment's collection of spirits and liqueurs, proudly displaying its name - Snappy's. Loud, muffled dance music played from a room down the hall, which got clearer whenever a sinner passed through the door in the back on the right side of the room.

Angel Dust glanced over at Alastor. The man was hard to read, as always, but he could tell he was taking it all in as he swiveled his head around.

“Figured you'd like a place that's smaller ‘n less crowded than my usual haunts.” Angel Dust led him over to the bar. “We could dance togetha’ on the floor once you get drunk enough, though.”

“I'd love to cut a rug, but I highly doubt they'll play anything to my tastes.” Alastor chuckled.

“I'll thinka something…” Angel Dust mulled over what he could request to the DJ that wouldn't totally kill the party. The pair sat down at the bar in front of the bartender - a large bear demon with a sharp, bear trap mouth. Angel Dust was pleasantly buzzed, but ready for more. “Hey bartender! Gimmie a tequila sunrise and…I dunno, whatever this weirdo wants. A bloody mary?” Angel Dust pointed to Alastor with his thumb. Alastor had been eyeing the drink menu, but he lowered it with his signature grin.

“Actually, I think I might take you up on that suggestion.” Alastor looked at the bartender. “One bloody mary, if you please.”

The bartender grunted affirmative.

“Oh yeah, I still can't believe I got you outta the house, Al!” Angel Dust grinned. “Look at you, ordering a real cocktail!”

“It's hardly my first rodeo, Angel Dust.” Alastor chuckled. “But your enthusiasm is almost infectious.”

“Yeah yeah, you're happy to be here. I can tell.” Angel Dust secretly couldn't, but he wanted to believe that was true, so he did.

The pair shared several drinks and light conversation, mainly about recent goings on in their lives. For Alastor's sake, Angel Dust kept any funny stories about the porn studio to a minimum. Alastor apparently didn't share the same sense of self awareness, happily regaling Angel Dust with the tale of a recent killing of his. Or maybe he did share it, and Alastor simply did not care. Angel Dust never knew for sure. Still, the radio demon made it sound like the guy deserved it after putting his filthy hands all over some screaming woman. Angel Dust was also starting to feel pleasantly drunk, so he didn't ask anymore questions.

“-and that certainly put a swing in my step.” Alastor concluded. “Whe-”

“WAIT, I GOT IT!” Angel Dust shot up to his feet. Normally, interrupting Alastor would irritate him, but his ears only flickered at such volume. “I'm gonna go make a request to the DJ. We’re gonna get you on that dance floor! Be right back.”

“Haha! Toodles!” Alastor waved his hand with more force than really necessary with a lazy sip of his drink.

The dance floor was much darker than the bar, lit only by a litany of flashing neon lights and a screen display of various merging and pulsating colors. It was a bit crowded, but Angel Dust did his best to navigate around twerking influencers and grinding couples moving to the beat of some high speed EDM. The other dancing sinners filled him with doubts - maybe this would be too much for Alastor. But something in Angel Dust's fuzzy mind pushed him to try. Finally, he made his way up to the DJ booth. The DJ had a boom box for a head with eyes where the speakers would be. He was physically plugged into the soundboard, and some of the sliders moved and keys pressed without him even touching them.

“Hey, I got a request!” Angel Dust yelled over the music. The DJ unplugged something stuck to his head and leaned in.

“You better make it real good, I got the vibes going strong right now!” He yelled back.

“Oh, it's really good. You better play it - it's on behalf of the radio demon!” Angel Dust's mouth turned up into a grin, watching the DJ's eyes grow wide at the drop of such a powerful name. No wonder Alastor was so sadistic, when just the mention of your nickname commanded such attention.

“Shit, there's an overlord here?!” The DJ looked at his phone. He sent a few messages, and Angel Dust took a breath to start yelling again when the DJ cut him off. “Okay, I'll do what I can. What's he want?”

Angel Dust nodded and placed his request. The DJ paused for a moment, then held a thumbs up.

“We can make that work! I'll play a few, but only after the next song!”

“Thank you!” Angel Dust raised his voice, then darted back towards the entry/exit of the dancefloor. It took another moment of navigating, but soon he was back out.

To his surprise, Alastor wasn't at the barstool. Angel Dust panicked for a half second, before spotting the bright red suit across the room. Alastor stood at one of the tables, talking to a tall, slender demon with green skin and vaguely insect features. Praying mantis, perhaps. Alastor looked up at the other demon to make eye contact, his glass sitting on the table next to him.

“Hey Al! Nice to see you made a friend.” Angel Dust bounded up to him.

“Oh yes, we were just discussing the best way to eat brains, her recipe is quite-”

“Yeah, sure, sure. Listen,” Angel Dust swayed a little and grabbed onto Alastor's wrist, both to keep his balance and tug his sleeve in excitement. “I requested something for ya. They're gonna play it soon. Finish your drink and let's go!”

“Somebody's a jitterbug!” Alastor's laugh bordered a drunken giggle as he gulped down his drink. He coughed, waving at the demon he'd been talking to. “Tata!”

“Oh, uhm…come back and see me after your dance!” She said with a wave.

“Sorry for the cockblock, Al.” Angel Dust let go once he realized he'd been dragging an already-willing Alastor. If the man hadn't been inebriated, Angel Dust probably would have lost one of his arms. “But I betcha if she's still there later, or if she joins us on the dance floor, she's down bad for sure.”

“I assume you mean she was infatuated with me?” Alastor blinked. “Hmm. I don't see it.”

“That's cuz you never get the hint.” Angel Dust opened the door. “C'mon, let's hit it.”

Alastor squinted at the flashing lights, letting his eyes adjust to the scene. They were still playing EDM. Alastor's smile never faltered, of course, but the distaste was evident in Alastor's unfocused eyes.

“This music is shit.” Alastor pouted. His forehead creased as he spotted two couples grinding.

“I know, it sucks. Hang in there.” Angel Dust patted him on the shoulder. Alastor seemed more aware of the contact and grabbed his hand delicately with two fingers to remove it. Angel Dust put it by his side. “Haha. There there.”

The song slowly faded out, though its end was muddled as it slowly merged into the next song. A loud, brassy opening played, repeating several times to a synthesized beat. Though the electronic beats continued, the music began to meld with an aged recording of a woman's upbeat lyrics and instrumentals of times long gone by. The atmosphere in the room shifted a bit, everyone adjusting as the grimy beat shifted into another genre, but the party never stopped.

“Hmm…Color me surprised, I don't hate this.” Alastor looked to Angel Dust. “What is it?”

“It's electroswing! It's not your music, but it's close, ain't it?” Angel Dust motioned to the dance floor. Alastor visibly hesitated, then shrugged.

“Oh, what the heck!”

Alastor grabbed his hand, and suddenly Angel Dust was the one getting dragged to the dance floor. He sputtered as Alastor put a hand on his waist and began to dance. Alastor's movements were clumsy as he adjusted to both the beat and the alcohol in his system, but Angel Dust's attempts at dancing were clumsier as he simply tried to keep up.

“W-whattya doin’?!”

“Wasn't dancing together your idea, my friend?!” Alastor simplified his footwork, which Angel Dust was grateful for.

“Not literally?!” Angel Dust stared at the ground and watched Alastor's feet in an attempt to copy him. “This ain't how sinners typically dance, y'know!”

“The music, Angel Dust! Just dance to the music!” Alastor shot him a cocky grin.

Angel Dust growled in frustration, but he was determined to keep up. He listened to the rhythm - copying Alastor was just gonna make this more confusing. Eventually, he fell in time the best he could for a drunken man. The song changed, though it remained another jazzy, upbeat electroswing tune.

“Okay, I'm gettin’ the hang of this!” Angel Dust smiled, but saw Alastor's face as excited and devious as ever.

“That's great!” Alastor clenched Angel Dust's hand in his own and wrapped his arms around him. Angel Dust felt hot at the other man pressed against him. “Don't let go now, my friend!”

“Wait now what're y-woah!” The two unraveled in a flourishing spin. Angel Dust did, in fact, keep hold of Alastor, but his footing failed him. His long legs slipped out right from underneath him, dragging Alastor to the ground. Angel Dust grimaced and scrambled to his feet to lend Alastor a hand. “Shit, I'm sorry-”

Alastor lay there absolutely cackling, a genuine expression of joy Angel Dust didn't think he'd ever seen brought about so innocently in the man. He started laughing himself as he helped Alastor up off the ground.

“You're a terrible dance paaartner.” Alastor slurred a little. “But most entertaining!”

“I guess it's better than nothing!” Angel Dust shrugged, starting to unconsciously move his body to the beat. “Wanna try dancing like a modern sinner?”

“Mmm…” Alastor appeared to consider it. “Actually I think…I might just take a break. Get some water….you just enjoy yourself.”

“Stay hydrated, handsome!” Angel Dust winked, waving Alastor off. It was a good thing he left, too, as the short block of electroswing ended in favor of more of the club's usual flavor of music.

Angel Dust danced for a little while longer, grinding on a few strangers, letting a few strangers grind on him. Yet, his typical club dancing felt emptier than usual. He doubted he could take any of these big boys home, either, what with needing to take Alastor back to the hotel.

Alastor…He had been gone awhile, hadn't he? No, no, the radio demon could take care of himself. As much as it annoyed him, Alastor was older, stronger, and book smarter than Angel Dust. Still, clubbing was never Alastor's scene. Did this make Angel Dust responsible? Ugh, maybe he just needed another drink. Or some water. That was a good idea.

“Sorry fellas, but thanks for the dance.” Angel Dust made his way through the crowd, scanning the sinners around him for those big, fuzzy ears. When he didn't see them, he stumbled out into the bar area. “Hey Al? Alastor!”

Most of the sinners in the bar diverted their eyes to Angel Dust - none of them were Alastor.

“Shit Al, where are you?” A heavy feeling settling in his chest, Angel Dust dashed into the men's room and furiously kicked open all the stalls. “Al? Al? Al!”

Failing that, he found himself out on the street. Relief flooded through him - thank Lucifer, he was second in line in a very long wait at the taxi stand across the street. Despite the fact the crosswalk light was very much red, Angel Dust crossed the street in a few large bounds. Once he approached, he noticed that bug shaped chick standing with a hand on his back.

“There you are!” Angel Dust panted out. The bug woman jumped. “Listen, Alastor, I don't care if you wanna get lucky but tell a guy first! You scared the shit outta me!”

“Oh, uhm-” The mantis lady turned around. “Sorry we didn't tell you, right…Alastor?”

“Tell who…wha?” Alastor tried to turn around, furrowing his eyebrows as he seemed to register the hand on his back with a slow blink. “Hey…”

Alastor grabbed at the woman's elbow and wrenched it off of himself, causing him to stumble and fall in the process. He landed right on his ass, grunting a little as his teeth audibly clacked together. His microphone cane hit the ground with a large screech of feedback. He sat there and pinched the bridge of his nose, head swaying and bobbing.

“Wait…” Angel Dust looked to Alastor, and to the mantis demon. She was about his height, and Angel Dust stood on the balls of his feet in order to stare her down. Her eyes were wide. “You ain't even been drinkin’, have you?!”

“Well, this man clearly needs to go home, so, uh-” The mantis took a step back. The other sinners all gave them some room.

“You bitch!” Angel Dust spat and landed a satisfying punch to the side of her mandible, knocking her to the ground. She shielded her head with her hands, and Angel Dust raised his foot, ready to make her a green smear on the pavement.

“Angel Dust…” Alastor braced himself with a hand on the ground. Angel Dust whipped around.

“It's okay Al, it's okay. Don't worry.” Angel Dust tried to reassure.

“You can't…hit a faaair ladyyy…” Alastor's eyes drooped, but he looked disappointed in Angel Dust. Angel Dust looked back at the woman cowering on the ground.

“Auuugh, this is all my fuckin’ fault!” With a huff, Angel Dust started taking pictures of the woman using his phone. The camera shutter sound went off four, five, six times.

“Wh-what are you-”

“Gettin’ evidence. When he sobers up and sees these, you're gonna wish you were double dead!”

The mantis woman gasped, realizing just how badly she screwed up. She scrambled to her feet and shoved other sinners out of the way as she tore down the street.

“YOU BETTER RUN! BITCH!” Angel Dust shouted, voice slightly strained after yelling in the bar. Sighing, he put away his phone and looked back to Alastor. Alastor's eyes were closed, but he was still keeping the tiniest, faintest of smiles. He was clearly still in there somewhere. “Man…we gotta get you to the hotel. You're wasted.”

“Mmm…?” Alastor opened his eyes, but it seemed that caused his head to sway.

“You dizzy, pal?” Angel Dust addressed him with a softness that surprised himself.

“Spinnin’ like a record…” Alastor confirmed. Angel Dust let out a breath he didn't know he was holding at the lighthearted response. “Right round…right round…”

“I didn't know you knew that song.” Angel Dust grabbed Alastor's discarded cane in one hand. His other hands helped Alastor up to his feet and hooked his limp arm around the back of his neck. Angel Dust bent his knees slightly so that Alastor held some illusion of standing on his own two feet.

“I know them. The-the songs. Lotsa songs.”

“I'm sure you do.” Angel Dust kept Alastor steady, grateful that a taxi arrived quickly after that. Another demon had been waiting ahead of Alastor, but he stepped aside with a nervous grin and nary a word after that entire ordeal. “Thanks.”

Angel Dust shoved Alastor and his cane into the taxi, using his extra arms to quickly situate him upright and plug in his seatbelt. Once that was done, Angel Dust put on his own seat belt and met the cab driver’s eyes through the rear view mirror.

“Where to?” The cabbie grumbled out.

“Hazbin Hotel. Stat.” Angel Dust showed him the address on his phone and only settled back once the car was in motion.

Angel Dust dared to look back at Alastor, the poor sap. Now that they were settled, Angel Dust noticed the usual radio static or music that accompanied him had become something of a strange cacophony of sounds and music, static squeaks and pops mixed with stuttering music that was slightly off beat, too slow. It wasn't particularly loud, thankfully, or it might have been unbearable. The deer man had noticed the seat belt strapped around him, picking and pulling on it in confusion.

“Don't touch that. It's probably the only thing keeping you sittin’ up straight.” Angel Dust chided lightly, and Alastor lowered his hand with no further resistance.

“I don't…” Alastor looked straight ahead and swallowed loudly. “I don't feel so good…”

“I know, baby. Just relax. We'll be home soon.” In spite of himself, Angel Dust found himself slipping into something of his workplace voice. It was the tone of voice he used at the end of the night one-on-one with the nicer clients. The more vulnerable ones.

The lonely ones.

“Home…”

Angel Dust reached out to hold his hand. Alastor flinched, but didn't pull away as Angel Dust caressed it with his thumb. Alastor's already gray face was turning pale, a sickly greenish tint coloring his cheeks. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His smile grew wide, but it was one of those strained ones that exposed his dark gums. He fumbled with his other hand, trying to retrieve something from his inner breast pocket.

“You got somethin’ in there? Lemme see…” Angel Dust reached in and unbuttoned it with ease, pulling out a crimson handkerchief with an ornate deer pattern. “This is what you wanted, right?”

Alastor gave a tiny nod. Angel Dust dabbed at the sweat on his forehead, happy to grant him any relief in the moment. He could worry about how fucked up this entire situation was later. Right now, Alastor's comfort was paramount. Angel Dust tried not to think of how insane that thought was alone.

“It's alright,” Angel Dust reassured, though he didn't know which one of them he was addressing. “We'll get you home, outta those stuffy clothes, yeah?” He remembered who he was talking to. “A-and straight into pajamas, of course! No funny business.”

Alastor wasn't looking at him, just staring straight forward and breathing sharp breaths in and out of his nose. Alastor’s free hand slid from his side up to his abdomen and held it there. Angel Dust couldn't hold back his frown as put the handkerchief away.

“What's the matter?” Angel Dust used one of his hands to brush back Alastor's sweat soaked bangs out of his face. Alastor's unsteady pupils looked in his direction. “C’mon. Talk to me, please.”

“Painful…” Alastor replied through grit teeth. He curled in a little on himself.

“Your stomach?” Angel Dust mentally ran through the kinds of symptoms that would be expected from this ordeal, and even he wasn't sure what would cause a belly ache. “God Al, what did she do to you?”

They drove through a tunnel, rows of underground lights flashing by through the car window. Angel Dust caught a glimpse of his shadow on the back of the headrest of the driver's seat. Even his little poor shadow looked sick and nauseated, little blue swirls where its cheeks would likely be. Alastor pressed his lips together and swallowed back a retch.

“Just take it easy…in…out…in…out…” It was some panic exercise Vaggie had taught Angel Dust during therapy. He wasn't sure if it was helping, but it at least seemed to prevent Alastor from blowing chunks in the car.

Several tense moments passed. Alastor closed his eyes, though he continued to breathe and let Angel Dust stroke his hand. Angel Dust had become so zeroed in, he had almost forgotten where they were.

“Hey. HEY!” Yelled a gruff voice. “I said we're here!”

Angel Dust threw around forty dollars at the driver, which should have been more than enough to get him to shut up. He certainly didn't complain or offer any change, and Angel Dust assisted Alastor out of the car onto the steps of the hotel. Two of his hands helped Alastor stay upright, a third hand held Alastor's cane, and a fourth hand opened the door.

“There we go, nice ‘n easy…”

Just as they made it through the door, Alastor tore away from him. He stumbled onto his knees and began to heave violently, struggling to fight the nausea any longer. His hands slapped over his mouth, trying to keep it down, before sick began to trickle out through his fingers. He wobbled and placed both hands on the floor. Unable to hold it back anymore, Alastor vomited with a sharp curl of his spine.

“That's it buddy, just get aaall that shit out of your system.” Angel Dust just rubbed the small of his back as Alastor threw up onto the hardwood flooring, doing what he could to offer the poor deer demon comfort. At this point, the more Alastor could puke up, the better.

Alastor, of course, could only expel whatever was in him for so long. Angel Dust kept a careful grip on the back of his suit with another hand to keep him from falling. Most of Alastor’s gloves and sleeves were soaked in putrid mess, but Angel Dust had prevented him from collapsing into it. Eventually, Alastor had nothing left for his body to eject. He moaned, panting and gasping. Angel Dust pulled him back.

“You done?” He asked as he looked into the radio demon's eyes. “It's OK if you're not. But I'm just askin’.”

“Nnn…maybe…” Alastor's hands wrapped around his stomach, soiling the cleaner parts of his suit. “I don't know…”

“Good enough.” Angel Dust tried to help the demon right himself, but Alastor just curled inwardly. He sighed. “Hold on.”

Angel Dust tried a couple of different ways to get Alastor to stand, or at least hold onto his back, but the radio demon was either too stubborn, too inebriated, or too pained to uncurl himself. Finally, Angel Dust settled on carrying the man his own damn self. Alastor struggled a little at first, but in his haze gave up fairly quickly. Angel Dust briefly considered dropping Alastor into his own room…would he be okay? Would he choke on his own vomit? How long would it take to regenerate from that? Would they need him before then? Sighing, Angel Dust ended up simply carrying him to his room himself. He sat the suffering man on his area rug with his cane and dialed a number while stripping out of his fancy clothes. Fat Nuggets squeaked to attention, confused by this ordeal and the new person in the room.

“Yeah…Niffty? Sorry its a lil' late, but it's me,” Angel Dust answered, putting on his long pink nightgown. “Did I wake ya?”

“Oh, Angel Dust!” Niffty responded, surprisingly cheery. “I was just doing a little light reading before bed. Have you ever read Fifty Shades of Crimson?”

“Thank Lucifer you're awake. Can’t say that I have.” Angel Dust shook his head at whatever fantasies she had as he took a make-up wipe to his face. “Listen, I called ‘cause this is important. Al n’ I just got done with some uhhh…partyin’ out ‘n about and…I made a bit of a mess in the lobby. I'd hate for the others t’ see it in the morning. Woudja mind?”

“Mess?? I'm on it! Thanks for the info!”

“Great. G'night.” Angel Dust hung up. No one would do a better job at banishing the evidence. He then directed his attention back to the trembling, disoriented man on his rug. Fat Nuggets sniffed his gloves. “Nuuuggs.” The warning was enough to dissuade the pig from doing anything else.

Angel Dust got a good look at Alastor. His features had regained a mild amount of color, and he no longer looked blatantly green with nausea. Still, there was a vacant stare to his features. Blank.

Drugged.

Angel Dust shuddered and approached him. He gently removed Alastor's monocle, and that cloying work voice bubbled up in his throat. “Okay, dollface.” Alastor's eyes narrowed at the name, so he tried again. “Smiles…let's take those gloves off. Look, they're so dirty, they hardly befit a gentleman like yourself, hm?” Alastor looked down at his soiled gloves and slowly peeled them off.

Angel Dust happily took Alastor's gloves, placed them off to the side, and breathed in deeply. At this moment the deer was practically like any other sensitive client. He needed Angel Dust to tell him what to do, and what he wanted to hear in order to feel safe. His mind raced as he tried to place himself in such a headspace.

“Yeah, that's gotta be more comfortable. Your outercoat's been dirtied too, hasn't it?” Angel Dust prodded. Alastor looked at it in vague disgust, the memory of how it was ruined already far and away. He began struggling with the buttons in his inebriated state, pulling at his collar. Angel Dust placed a hand confidently on him before he could panic. “Don't worry yourself with something so trivial as buttons. You're too powerful for that. Let me take care of it for you.”

Angel Dust undid the buttons in a few swift motions. Alastor didn't resist, although he did seem to notice once only his unbuttoned undershirt and pants remained. He crossed his arms around his chest to stop Angel Dust from progressing further.

“You don't gotta be exposed, we're gonna getcha real comfortable….let's see…” Angel Dust dug through his drawers until he found something.

A plain pink sweatshirt, with matching pink sweatpants with #CAMWHORE written on the leg. It would have to do, Angel Dust supposed. In a quick motion, he removed Alastor's dress shirt and replaced it. Similarly, he removed Alastor’s boots and pants and slid his own sweatpants onto the deer demon's skinny grey legs. The secondary pair of sleeves dangled uselessly at his sides, and the pants bunched up around the ankles due to the height difference. Still, it would do for now. By the time Alastor registered Angel Dust's hands on him, he was already changed in cleaner, warmer clothes.

“There we go. Fresh clothes oughta help.” Angel Dust smiled and eased him into his bed. “Anything I can do to make ya more comfortable? I can give you the whole bed, yknow.”

“I…” Alastor's ears laid back against his skull. Both of his arms snaked around his abdomen as he stared at the wall. Fat Nuggets, sensing his discomfort, curled up in the crook between his knees and rested his chin on one of his ankles. “It hurts…”

“I'm gonna sit here.” Angel Dust carefully telegraphed as he sat on the other side of the plush bed. “Can I touch ya?”

Alastor had phased back out again before Angel Dust could get an answer. Sighing, he put one of his hands on Alastor's shoulder to test the waters and lightly caressed him there. When he gave no reaction, Angel Dust's hand slid down to his waist and tried to work his hand under Alastor's claws. His grip pressed tighter, suddenly, and Alastor emitted a static growl that ended in a sharp, mechanical sounding whine.

“Okay, okay, that's off limits. You got it, chief.” His hand went back to rubbing Alastor’s shoulder.

He looked so small, dare Angel Dust say weak, in this state. Yet his form was spring-loaded with a kind of tension Angel Dust both feared and understood. And one thing was for sure - Alastor would certainly hate everything Angel Dust felt about him in this moment.

Sweat beaded on Alastor's forehead again. Angel Dust looked around for Alastor's handkerchief and realized he must have shoved it back in one of his suit pockets.

“Hang on.”

Angel Dust stood up to walk over to the pile of soiled clothes he'd left discarded on the floor. He took only a couple of steps before a strange sensation stopped him in his tracks. Something had lightly grabbed at his nightgown. But it wasn't the simple sensation of his clothes getting tugged. Somehow, it felt as though Angel Dust's very essence was being pulled at.

Angel Dust swiveled around. Alastor was motionless and facing the wall, unsteady breathing and harsh static the only signs of life coming from the man. Angel Dust looked downward until he found the culprit. Lit by the soft pink mood lights around the bed, a tendril of Alastor’s shadow wrapped around the corner of Angel Dust’s own shadow and tugged.

“Needy little sonuvabitch, huh?” Angel Dust found himself chuckling, awkwardly trying to pet the shadow with his own. It didn't really work, but the shadow let go. He had not wanted to leave Alastor unattended, but this gave him an idea. “Y'know…you…Alastor…both of ya's…whichever, probably need some stuff. You can come with me if ya want.”

The tendril made a little bobbing motion. Angel Dust walked to the door and opened it to reveal the dark expanse of the hallway. The tendril made it to the edge of the doorway, then froze.

“Oh, lemme…” Angel Dust whipped out his phone and turned on the flashlight setting. The shadowy tendril thrived in the contrast of the brighter light, snaking along the floorboards next to Angel Dust. Angel Dust found himself humming a little to ease the tension in himself, or perhaps placate the shadow. He wished he could have set Niffty to this task as well, but he thought he'd spare Alastor any bruising to his ego. Under normal circumstances, Angel Dust would have believed he deserved it.

These were not normal circumstances.

He retrieved all the things he needed from either the kitchen or the supply closet, mindlessly shining the phone down at the floor with his lower right hand. Occasionally Angel Dust would glance down at the shadow to check on it, but it never strayed from his side. He came back with a water pitcher and a cup, a towel, some trash bags, and the first aid kit from downstairs. Once he was back in the room, the tendril of shadow slowly shrank back into its host. Alastor was still lying on the bed, right where Angel Dust had left him. He set everything down on the nightstand and peeked over at Alastor. His eyes were closed, but his breathing remained shallow and unsteady.

“You awake?” Angel Dust barely whispered. Alastor's eyes shot open so fast that Angel Dust jumped. “Oh, yes. Okay. Sit up for me babe.”

Angel Dust maneuvered Alastor into an upright position, causing Fat Nuggets to oink in displeasure as he was moved. Angel Dust poured out some cold water in a paper cup and held it to Alastor's dry lips. Alastor drank without any further encouragement, though his static popped unpleasantly when he swallowed.

“That's it…you're gonna need plenty of water, ‘cuz you are gonna be feeling this tomorrow.” Angel Dust patted him on the back with one hand and put the cup away. “Believe me.”

He turned back and grabbed the towel, dribbled some of the ice water onto it, and placed it onto Alastor's forehead.

“Mmm…” One of Alastor’s downward facing ears twitched, and he closed his eyes. For the first time since this whole ordeal started, a coherent little melody pleasantly played on his staff.

“Man, why can't you be this cute all the time?” Angel Dust smiled. Fat Nuggets scratched him with a cloven hoof. Angel Dust scratched his chin. “Aw, you jealous buddy? It's okay. You're cute all the time! Yes you are!”

Angel Dust almost expected some snide comment about bacon, but of course it never came. Alastor just grumbled incoherently, head nodding forward from exhaustion. Just looking at him made Angel Dust realize how weary he felt. He laid Alastor down on the right side of the bed and scooted a couple of respectful inches away.

“Ya need anything else before I kill the lights, sweetheart?” He asked the question more out of courtesy, but to his surprise, Alastor spoke.

“Mmmm…mmmusic…” Alastor coughed and curled up in a ball.

“Oh. Aww, you're one of those guys that can't sleep in the quiet. Duh.” Angel Dust opened his phone. He hummed as he thought of what to search, before simply tapping in ‘relaxing 1930s music’. “Relaxing vintage music, 10 hours. This oughta work.”

A nostalgic, dreamy tune slowly began to drift his speakers. Angel Dust felt Alastor's weight shift on the bed with a soft sigh just barely audible over the music. Satisfied, Angel Dust pulled up the blanket and turned out the lights, facing away from Alastor. Fat Nuggets dug himself halfway under the covers and closed the space between them, resting his little head against Angel Dust's back.

“G'night Al. Hang in there.”

It was funny. Angel Dust had thought about what Alastor may look like in his bed once or twice, purely for the fun of it rather than any true desire. Yet never in his wildest dreams did he imagine it would go down quite like this.

Chapter Text

Angel Dust roused from a fitful sleep at the sound of Alastor getting sick. It only took a few seconds for him to realize the source of the noise, and Angel Dust sat up immediately and ignored the annoyed oink from Fat Nuggets. He plucked one of the trash bags he'd brought back from the nightstand and groped around in the darkness looking for Alastor's form. He discovered the man at least had the courtesy to find the edge of the bed to get sick off of. Angel Dust just crouched over top of him with two arms and dangled the bag under his mouth with the other two. He even extended the extra set to give him a hand to rub Alastor's back with.

“Into the bag, Al.” Angel Dust instructed gently. He wondered if he even needed it, until Alastor threw up a little more than Angel Dust expected. “Attaboy…just get that poison out. It'll make you feel better.”

Alastor never moved or indicated he was finished other than the fact he eventually stopped. Angel Dust tied up the bag to keep the smell locked in and tossed it aside. He gently tugged on Alastor's sweatshirt until he wasn't hanging off the bed anymore.

Angel Dust sighed and stared at the ceiling. The darkness out the window and the gentle sound of jazz still playing indicated it was still the middle of the night, but he wasn't sure when. Fat Nuggets readjusted himself and laid on Angel Dust's fluffy chest fur. Angel Dust stroked him.

I wonder what would have happened if I took you to a different bar.

—

It was starting to get light outside the window when Angel Dust awoke to Alastor becoming ill again. Thankfully, it was over quickly and with little to show for it. Angel Dust just repeated the same motions as he groggily held out another bag. Fat Nuggets seemed to give up at this point, hopping off of Angel Dust's bed and trotting over to his own.

“How could you abandon Al in his time of need?” Angel Dust joked to the pig. He laughed a little, then sighed. He laid back down and stared at Alastor's slender back and now-unkempt hair.

I wonder what would have happened if we just made the request together.

—

It was definitely morning now, although the continued music of the playlist indicated it couldn't be that late. Alastor was getting sick again and seemed unable to stop. His eyes watered involuntarily with strain, now sitting up but nearly bent double anyways.

“Your body is as stubborn as you are, huh…” Angel Dust bristled at the sound of his own irritation. “Sorry. This sucks way more for you than for me.”

Alastor finished at last. He rolled onto his side from his bent position to lay down and curl up again. In the process, he ended up half laying on Angel Dust's lap. He looked down at Alastor's head resting on his thighs, a little dumbfounded. The slight bags normally present under his eyes had grown purple and deep. His bangs were half dried to his forehead and half stuck out in wildly different directions. His smile was so, so small, but it was still there on his peaceful, sleeping face. Angel Dust went cold.

I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't found you in time.

Angel Dust decided it was a great time to start mindlessly scrolling through his phone. He felt a little like someone who had a cat on their lap that they couldn't bear to move. The music playlist had ended a while ago, and Angel Dust half expected Alastor to rise from his half-dead sleep to demand it be turned back on. Of course, he didn't move.

Almost unconsciously, Angel Dust had begun to stroke Alastor's head at some point. His hair was coarser than expected, though Angel Dust didn't actually know what a deer fur was supposed to feel like. Scratching at the base of one of his ears drew out a little breathy groan of satisfaction.

“Ohohoh, did I finally find yer sweet spot?”

Suddenly, a notification bar from the chat app Charlie had forced everyone to download popped up on the top of his screen.

niffty50: Hey are you awake?

He usually didn't receive messages from Niffty, but he might as well see what the chick wanted. Angel Dust clicked through the notification and opened the app.

saygex: yeah wassup
niffty50: How are you feeling?
saygex: oh im good, just hungover. yknow how it goes
niffty50: Oh that's great! I was actually kinda worried.
niffty50: You know when I cleaned up that vomit in the lobby yesterday?
saygex: yeah, thanks queen ♡
niffty50: I found something weird in it so I kept it in a baggie in my room!
saygex: congratulations
saygex: keep it courtesy of angel dust
niffty50: No I kept it because I don't know how to dispose of it safely.
saygex: niffty it's puke
saygex: put that weird sawdust shit on it and throw it out

niffty50 is typing...
niffty50 is typing...
niffty50 is typing...

niffty50 sent a photo.

In the palm of Niffty's black hand sat a very small plastic baggie, inside of which were a dozen or so specks. Angel Dust frantically swiped at the screen to blow up the image. Each piece was no larger than a grain of sand, but the frightening, iridescent brilliance was almost palpable through the screen.

niffty50: When I touched one with my bare hands it felt like the pain I get when I accidentally stick my fingers with a sewing needle.
niffty50: But not the fun kind!
niffty50: I wondered if it made you sick.
saygex: just a little
niffty50: Did you put your mouth on an angelic weapon or something?
saygex: yeah
saygex: it was for a sex thing
niffty50: Oh okay!
niffty50: That reminds me! I think you'd really like this book I'm reading. There's an angel in love with a sinner and she takes the hilt of her angelic weapon and she-

Angel Dust stopped reading and set the phone down.

“That fucking psychotic crazy ass bug bitch….” He mumbled to himself and ran two hands over his face. What new and exciting ways to commit assault would they think of next?

A low, rumbling moan emitted from underneath Angel Dust's hand as Alastor began to move. Angel Dust scratched behind one of Alastor's ears to comfort him and reached for another bag on the nightstand.

“Yer gonna turn yourself inside out, babe…” Angel Dust sighed and held out the bag as Alastor raised up.

Alastor looked down at the bag, and then up at Angel Dust. As their eyes met, Angel Dust saw Alastor give a few confused blinks of recognition. He tried not to get too excited, since lucidity would bring its own slew of problems, but the amount of time Alastor had spent completely shut off was starting to scare Angel Dust.

“Alastor?” Angel Dust asked tenderly and tossed aside the bag. “You in there?”

“Angel Dust. Angel Dust? What in-” Alastor tried to raise his voice, but Angel Dust could hear his throat was pained and sticky. He started coughing, inching backwards away from Angel Dust on the bed.

“Here.” Angel Dust grabbed his shoulder to keep him from falling off. Alastor sneered, but Angel Dust just offered him a cup of water from the nightstand as a peace offering. “Take it easy now.”

Alastor looked at him indignantly and took the cup from his hand. He drank it in a few greedy swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His smile was close-lipped and pained.

“What's going on here?” Alastor spoke quietly, his raw throat having shot his voice. His head darted around. “Am I in your living quarters…?”

“Al, listen to me. I need you to stay calm, alright?”

“You took off my clothes?!” Alastor looked down at himself and picked up one of the sleeves dangling from his side, then bared his yellow fangs.

“They were dirty. Al. Listen. I know this looks bad, but I can explain-”

“Oh no no no…You didn't- We didn't-”

“We didn't.” Angel Dust replied, humorlessly and with full conviction. Alastor's eyes narrowed. “You think I'd fuck you and lie about it ‘cause you were too drunk to remember? I know I tease, probably too fuckin’ much, but I also know when shit is not for sale, thank you very much.”

Alastor eyed Angel Dust to the point where he started to feel his chest get tight.

“Look….I don't blame ya for being suspicious. I'd have questions too.” Angel Dust continued with a deep breath. He reminded himself how badly your head could ache, how harshly your stomach could churn, how frightening it could be to wake up in an unfamiliar room with no memory of getting there. He softened his gaze, which made the intensity in Alastor's eyes relax a little. “But I'm your friend, and I wouldn't do that to ya. I wouldn't do it to anybody.”

“I suppose…if you were that kind of man, I would have never become friends with you.” Alastor conceded. He slumped a little and rubbed his temples. “This is just a lot to wake up to, and if my head pounded any harder it'd probably pop right off my very shoulders.”

“Yer crazy dehydrated.” Angel Dust smiled wearily, taking that as something of an apology. “Don't worry, I got your IV in a cup right here.”

Angel Dust started fiddling with the first aid kit with two hands while the other two poured another glass of water.

“What I really want to know, then, is why you aren't any worse for wear.” Alastor crawled across the bed with a slight wobble and leaned against the headboard for support. “I'm not naive. This isn't a normal hangover.”

“Yeah…” Angel Dust found what he was looking for in the first aid kit and retrieved a small, rectangular packet. He poured its contents into the glass. “Let's start from the beginning. I got all dolled up yesterday and stopped by the hotel bar. You remember that, dontcha?”

“Of course, the night had hardly just begun.” Alastor drummed his fingers in thought. “Somehow you convinced me to accompany you to…sss…Snappy's, was it?”

“Yeah, that's right.” Angel Dust nodded. He had finished making Alastor's drink, but he didn't hand it off just yet and set it down on the table. “Keep going. You remember anything else?”

“Absolutely! You requested music that sounded much better than whatever trash they were playing. We shared a dance together. You were terrible.” Alastor's smile widened, lacking aggression. “I felt…goodness, the feeling of swing dancing and getting you to struggle along made me feel like I was on top of the world.”

“I'm glad th-...hang on. Didja feel giddy? Like, colors were brighter ‘n music was longer, or something?”

“I suppose that's one way to put it.” Alastor put a claw to his chin.

“Shit.” Angel Dust slammed his fist into the wall. “Shit, shit! That was the first sign and I fuckin’ missed it because I thought you were finally happy!”

“But the dance was delightful, Angel Dust! After that, I-...I…” Alastor's smile wrinkled in a funny way. “First sign? And after that…I don't…ah…”

Alastor looked away and stared down at the blankets. His expression didn't change. Angel Dust waited, and waited. Was he unable to put the pieces together? Or unwilling?

“I dunno how to say this, but….some psycho slipped some real nasty shit in your drink. I think it happened when-” The temperature in the room surrounding Angel Dust dropped five, ten degrees. “Uh-oh, Al, stay calm-”

A high pitched screech with no discernable source rippled across every surface of the room and shook the furniture. Cabinet doors rattled open, poorly hung posters slowly peeled off the walls. The light bulbs around Angel Dust's vanity mirror began pulsing and glowing, brighter and brighter until they started to pop. Fat Nuggets took shelter under his little bed with a squeal. Angel Dust stumbled backwards and slapped two hands over each ear, gaping as Alastor's radio dial eyes were on full display as his form started to shift.

““̵͔͝I̴̻͑ ̶̂ͅW̴̭̅Ì̵̗L̶͔͑L̶͖͐ ̸̦̈F̵̩̊Í̵̦N̸̟͌D̶̜̍ ̵͎̆T̸̢͘H̴̯̃Ė̸̤ ̷̨̓W̴̙̔R̶̻̔E̴͓͒T̴̖͒C̵͉͋H̴̥̅E̸̲̍D̸̪͆ ̴͇̿S̵̪̒O̴̘͗Ṷ̴̎L̷̲̈ ̵̪́W̴̩̿Ȟ̵͜Ọ̵̽ ̷͎͗Ḏ̵͝I̷̥̓D̷̛̙ ̵͈̍T̵͍͛H̶̭͗I̷̪͂S̵͉̀ ̸̙̂T̵̃ͅO̶͚̽ ̵͖̍M̴̦͂E̴̝̎.” The X on Alastor's forehead began to glow. His neck began to crack and extend, and Angel Dust's vanity mirror shattered. “A̷̡̤͈̘̠̺͜͝Ņ̷̣̬͓͉̻̞̞̟̹͛̓̂D̵̢̧̮̠͙̗̹͚̥̲͈͉̦͊̑͊̇̕ ̸̨̭͔͕̪͈̳̗̹͇̰̪̅̈́͗͗̾̽̊͊͒̎̕̕Ẇ̴̡̼̹̮͍̻̝͗̀͑̇Ḣ̷̛̲̮͒̉̋̾̃̓̑̅̂̍̽̃̽̂͠E̷̡̡̢̛̺̥̗͚̝̻̭̰̼͙̥̿͊̓̿́͊͊̐́̑͗́̂̾̓̕͠͠͝Ń̷̢̥̘͌͒̈́̒̊̆̏̅̐͑͗͌̒̈͝ ̸̨̘̗̮͕̬̥̻͋̊͒̀́͌̎́́͜͝͠͠Ì̷͇̞̇͐͐̓̉̆̂͘ ̵̺͛̈́͠D̷̡̨̧̧̥̜̺͚̻̹̲̜̼̝̥̘͉̣͍͂̐̔O̶͒̄͌̍̽̀́̉̓̾̉̕, I̶̧͇͚̩̤̝̿̊͜'̶̨̳͇͈͉̺͌L̴̢͔̻̙͆̑̅̿͘͜L̵̛͖̖͍̼̪͍͂̒̆- I̷'̷L̶L̴-...I'll…”

Alastor's form shrank back down. The dials in his eyes rolled backwards into his head, and he collapsed forward onto the foot of the bed. The screeching stopped as fast as it had started, like someone had flipped a switch. Angel Dust's ears rang as he stumbled towards the bed. He pulled himself onto the mattress, and the other demon's unconscious form spun in his vision.

“Hey, hey!” Angel Dust lightly slapped his cheek, and Alastor's eyes fluttered open. “Easy now…I know you're pissed but you're too weak to be goin’ all tentacle monster right now.”

“Something's not right…my power…?”

“I…wasn't kidding when I said nasty. Shit was laced with angelic weapons shavings, I only know ‘cause I saw it sparklin’ in your puke.” Angel Dust offered a hand out to Alastor, who did not take it. “As someone whose tried almost every possible drug and drug combination in hell - even I ain't never heard of something that fucked up. Yer poor guts are probably rubbed raw, but at least it's outta your system.”

Alastor laid there, staring at the ceiling. His smile was strained, but the look in his eyes was hard to read. A couple of minutes of silence stretched between them. During that time, Fat Nuggets came out of hiding and hesitantly wandered towards Angel Dust, who picked him up and placed him in the space between Alastor and the bed. He scratched the animal's little pink head.

“You can pet Nuggets, if you want. Makes me feel better after a shit night.”

“Angel Dust?” Alastor turned his head away from Angel Dust's view and put a couple of claws on Fat Nuggets backside. Angel Dust wouldn't consider that ‘petting’, but he didn't expect Alastor to take him up on the idea at all.

“Yeah?”

“Did he…touch me?”

“Oh. No no no, I shut that shit down before anything like that could happen.” Angel Dust gestured downwards for emphasis.

“Good.”

“I found you outside at the taxi stand with this bug looking chick. She had her hand on your back, but your clothes didn't look ruffled or nothin’. Snappy's ain't the kinda place for that, which is…” Which is why I took you there. “Which is probably why she wanted to go somewheres else. I took ya straight back after that. No one at the hotel saw.”

“A woman, then…?”

“Yeah…here.” Angel Dust took his phone off the nightstand and found Alastor's little episode had shut it off. He breathed a sigh of relief when he turned it back on without any issues and scrolled through his photo gallery. “I got a few pictures. I figured you'd wanna hunt the bitch…after you getcha strength back, of course.”

Alastor looked at the photo of the woman, screaming and bleeding green from a busted lip underneath her mandible. Angel Dust smiled a little. Lacking a reaction, he tried again.

“Eh, eh? See, I roughed her up for ya’.”

“Hmm.” Alastor pressed his lips together. “Thank you for the information. Shame that it had to be a woman.”

“What makes you say that?” Angel Dust put his phone down. “You were chomping at the bit to kill ‘er ten seconds ago.”

“If I'm being honest, I don't like to kill women.” Alastor finally pushed himself up and put a hand to his chest. “It's simply not my style.”

“Huh…” Angel Dust crossed his upper arms. “That kind of thing matters to ya?”

“Of course it matters, my friend!” Alastor gestured his hand up dramatically. “You don't think I'm some barbarian who kills indiscriminately, do you?”

“Yes.”

“You wound me, Angel Dust. But no, my targets tend to be male.”

“Huh.” Angel Dust blinked. “Why's that? Are you like, the gay version of serial killers or something?”

“Because-” Alastor's over dramatic flair deflated. “...Do you remember the story I told you at the bar yesterday?”

“About that last guy you killed?”

“I hunt predators.” Alastor elaborated, then his ear twitched. His smile shifted to something of a grimace. “Though…I certainly never thought I would let myself become prey.”

“I'm sorry, Al.” Angel Dust’s hand on Fat Nuggets slid down until his fingers bumped into Alastor’s. “But you shouldn't talk like that. It's not your fault this happened to ya.”

“This kind of thing isn't supposed to happen to me at all.”

“Oh yeah?" Angel Dust cocked up an eyebrow. "Whose it s'posed to happen to, then?”

Alastor sat there, staring for a few long moments. He scratched the back of his head. “Perhaps…you have a point…”

“Yeah. Shitty people, men or women, sometimes just take any opportunity they got. It's not about who you are. That said, it's totally fair to feel violated ‘n shit though. I've…I've been there.” Angel Dust admitted, which made Alastor blink.

“I'll kill them for you.” Alastor said surprisingly lightly, like he was offering to pick up a jug of milk on the way home.

“No no, you don't gotta do that.” The offer was tempting. “Well, maybe later. Let's focus on you first. I'm just sayin’...Vaggie's helped me with some therapy stuff, so we can talk about it if ya ever need to.”

“I…appreciate it, Angel Dust. For your offer, and your aid yesterday.” Alastor's smile relaxed a little. He sat in silence for a moment, before one of his hands rested on his stomach. “But if I've taken even a small amount of holy damage, what I need right now is meat.”

“Pssh, let's make sure you can keep down some liquids first, big guy.”

“Some blood, then?” Alastor looked hopeful.

“Here.” Angel Dust suddenly remembered the cup on the nightstand. He grabbed it and held it to Alastor, its contents a pale yellow. “Drink this.”

“This isn't blood.” Alastor pouted.

“It’s medicine, basically. Charlie said those packets are full of stuff that helps you recover from stomach bugs. Husk n’ I have been stealing ‘em for hangovers, they work great. Try it, it tastes like weak lemonade.” Angel Dust said. Alastor took a few sips, as a comfortable silence stretched between them. He set the cup down on the nightstand. They both waited for a few moments, seeing if he would throw it back up, but it seemed Alastor's stomach had settled for now.

“Well, this little sleepover has been interesting, but if it's all the same to you, I'd like to be getting back to my own room.”

“Of course.” Angel Dust stood up, surprised Alastor had stayed this long. He stood up and offered his hand. “I'll help ya back.”

“Actually, could you do me one quick favor?”

“Whaddya want, handsome?”

“These clothes are quite comfortable, but this terminology likely doesn't apply to me.” Alastor gestured to the ‘#CAMWHORE’ written down the side of the leg of his pants. “I would like to walk through the hallways in my own attire.”

“Oh, duh.” If any of the others saw Alastor in that, they'd have some questions. “Where in your room do you keep your fancy comfy clothes?”

“My shadow will guide you there.” Alastor gestured to his shadow, which bowed its head a little.

Angel Dust walked down the halls followed by the shadow in a similar manner to yesterday. Angel Dust smacked his forehead, he'd forgotten to ask Alastor for a key. Before he could voice his complaints, though, the shadow itself seeped into the keyhole and clicked the door open.

“Oh. Thanks.” Angel Dust walked into Alastor's room. It smelled funny, but he wasn't here to investigate.

The shadow led him to a drawer of clothes. It took Angel Dust a moment to find what it wanted, but it seemed content with a pair of black slacks and a red turtleneck. The shadow nodded its head, then suddenly, gave a little yawn.

“You tired, buddy?” Angel Dust chuckled. “Can't blame ya. We all had a rough night.”

Angel Dust walked back to the room with the sluggish shadow in tow. It seeped underneath Angel Dust's doorway, and Angel Dust opened the door.

“Hey, I got-”

Alastor wasn't sitting how Angel Dust had left him. He had laid down on his side, half curled up, twisting slightly at the waist. Not only was the #CAMWHORE visible on the leg in this position, Angel Dust noted with delight he had a little tail sticking out over the waistband. His arms were limp with one elbow resting on his stomach, which left just enough space for Fat Nuggets to happily wiggle between them and cuddle. Alastor’s static became loud on the inhale, quiet on the exhale, like the rhythmic sound of softly lapping ocean waves. He was fast asleep.

“Why can't you be this cute all the time…” Angel Dust muttered. Unable to help himself, he grabbed his phone and muted it. He took a picture of the demon on the bed, just for himself. “Oh yeah.”

Alastor's face was heavily obscured by corruption in the photo, but you could still sort of make it out. Barely.

“A camwhore you ain't…” Angel Dust chuckled. He let Alastor rest.

—

Three days passed. Alastor moved back into his room, and things gradually went back to normal. It became apparent to the residents Alastor was mildly under the weather, and Niffty happily took over nursing Alastor back to full health. Angel Dust tried to talk to Alastor here and there, but he didn't push. That kind of event would be traumatic for anyone.

Alastor also had a replacement for Angel Dust's vanity shipped in without ever being asked, so that was nice.

By the end of the third day, Alastor had recovered and made a morning radio broadcast. Angel Dust found him in the foyer with a fountain pen and two stacks of papers, humming a little to himself. His hair was combed, his suit was prim and proper, his eyes were bright, he was singing…this was the most ‘Alastor’ Alastor had been in days.

“Yer lookin’ chipper, Smiles.” Angel Dust sauntered over to the couch. “Feel better?”

“Why yes, Angel Dust!” Alastor was back to his normal volume now that his throat had healed. “Niffty gave me the most excellent idea to overcome my blues, the lovely little darling.”

“Oh yeah? What's that?” Angel Dust sat down next to Alastor and took a closer look. The left stack was thicker with identical pieces of paper - a somewhat realistically drawn portrait of Alastor's upper half. He looked over at the thinner right stack and saw Alastor had signed his autograph on those. “This is real nice art. You holding an event?”

“Close - a radio sweepstakes! A winner every week. The prize is an autograph by yours truly.” Alastor put a smug hand to his chest.

“That’s cool, actually. How do ya enter?”

“Oh, no need!” Alastor quickly got to work, elegantly swooping the pen as he signed one of the prints of himself. He held it out proudly to Angel Dust. “On the house.”

“Oh, uh….thanks.” Angel Dust accepted the gift and looked at what he wrote. It was in frilly cursive, but he could make out the words.

To Angel Dust,
Next time, I pick the venue!
Yours truly,
THE RADIO DEMON
Alastor♡

“Oh, alright. ‘S only fair.” Angel Dust smiled. He thought about it, then furrowed his eyebrows. “But if we're going to cannibal town I am not wearing a stuffy-ass suit, got it?”

“You will be under my protection and may wear whatever you wish.” Alastor signed another print with much less flair. “But I bet Rosie would have some lovely recommendations for period appropriate dresses.”

Suddenly, there was a knock at the front door. Charlie, who had been at the bar talking to Vaggie, sat up. “I'll get it!”

“Huh…well, I guess those big hats do look kinda cute.” Angel Dust ignored Charlie, picturing what he might look like in that kind of fashion.

“Hi, welcome to the Haaa-aaah SHIT!” Charlie screamed and stumbled back. Everyone in the room turned to look at the commotion now.

A plantlike demon covered in green blood stood in the doorway. He held a familiar green, dripping, severed head by the antenna.

“I'm here to claim my prize?”