Chapter Text
The fact was that Alastor's life didn't change much on the days when Angel Dust wasn't around. The lack of suggestive comments was welcome, of course, but other than that they don't interact nearly enough for his presence to be mandatory.
That fact has recently changed.
You couldn't pay Alastor to have him remember how it happened, but the hotel inhabitants had gotten into a fight, somehow. It was a rather big fight and maybe Alastor wasn't feeling like dealing with it so he let the others take the lead while he stood back next to Charlie (who was scolded by her girlfriend to not get involved) and watched. And maybe that changed when Angel looked back at him, fluffy hair all messed up and face and hands covered in blood, his huge, genuine smile beaming as he called: "What's the matter, Smiles? Ain't you an Overlord? Come join the fun!" And maybe Alastor had felt a bit sad when Angel hadn't waited for him to join. Nevertheless, he did as told.
And now he notices Angel Dust's absence at every moment.
His life still doesn't change that much, but his mind wanders back to that moment, and all the other moments they have shared, and Angel's laughter, and... All of this is unnecessary. But he can't make it go away, not when Angel comes back to the hotel around 2 a.m., goes straight to the bar but ignores both Alastor and Husker to pour himself a (arguable strong) drink and just sits there, looking awful. Husker tries talking to him, but he isn't a patient man and Angel isn't easy. "One of those 'leave me alone' days, huh? Alright, tell me if you need anything." Alastor takes notice of how he puts all of the bottles out of Angel's reach so he'll need to call Husker. For the best, perhaps.
He looks tired, almost drained. His neck is a dark shade of purple in the shape of a very large hand and his makeup is almost fading, revealing the mark on his face as well.
He's beautiful.
Alastor has never been a fan of sex, if that's a way to put it, but he can appreciate the beauty in anything erotic. And Angel is the perfect mixture of beauty and sex appeal (Which might not register as different to most people, as Alastor has come to learn). His body is lean and flexible, his teeth shine behind every smile, his fluffy chest and small waist are that of a man's dream, and his eyes hide the kind of melancholy only heard from the songs that play on the radio in the deepest hours of the night.
"Whatcha looking at?" He calls for Alastor, seemingly calmer now that the alcohol burns his throat enough to bring him back to his senses. "You, of course!" Alastor sees no shame in being curious. "A hard day at work, I would presume?"
"Why, wanna watch the product?" His sentence lacks the flirting, it almost sounds like a joke made by a man who's been stabbed, bloody and bitter. Alastor likes the taste of blood. "No, thank you. But I do wonder what kept you so late. You're usually here right after Charlie goes to bed!" The princess is a morning person, so naturally she goes to bed earlier than all the sinners around.
"Well, you know, Val's moods are sometimes too much to handle." Val must refer to Valentino, Alastor thinks while avoiding Husker's piercing gaze. They're both equally surprised that the Radio Demon got Angel Dust to talk but neither wants to interrupt him. "He had some disagreements with someone in the production team and Vox wasn't around to sort the things between them like usual, so he got mad and started throwing a tantrum." Alastor's well aware of where Vox has been, of course. He really should get over his hatred of Alastor and start looking for a place to hide for when... well, this isn't the time to think of his plans now, is it?
"We were done with the shoot pretty quickly since everyone wanted to pack up and leave before they were caught in the crossfire. And Val doesn't call for me when he's in a bad mood, but I know he expects me to be the one soothing him. It's funny, isn't it? Like, which one of us is being tricked here, dumbass?" He laughs like it's the biggest joke of all time. And it is, perhaps. "Are you two lovers?" Alastor didn't know his words could stop time. He waits for Angel to (presumably) relive everything and come back to reality.
"What? Um, well, I'm sorry, are ya really askin'?" Angel lets out another laugh, calmer but more genuine, Alastor doesn't mind this one either. "I guess you don't have much experience in this, huh? Not that any normal person would. Fine, I'll explain. We might've... started with those kinds of promises, but now it's just my contract. I'm his favorite toy, and he gives me the things I want, it's just transactional."
"Do you regret it?"
"I don't know. I knew who he was and what he was and I still wanted it all. Do I regret being greedy? It's like asking me if I regret myself." He pauses, staring at his empty glass. "Yeah, I think I do."