Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Where the fuck are my contacts?” Angel groaned, taking his usual seat at the bar counter.

Husk simply shrugged in response to the sinner’s question. “How should I know? Didn’t even know you wore ‘em.”

The spider regarded Husk with irritation, squinting slightly. “Yeah, well, I do, or I did, because somehow, the whole fuckin’ box of ‘em disappeared.”

“Damn, that sucks,” Husk grunted. “Eight eyes, and the worst vision in Hell. Spiders really have bad luck, huh? How the fuck do you even lose a box of those things?”

“Don’t ask me how, this place is fucked up, maybe it evaporated.” Angel shrugged, which, by the way, looks weirdly disorienting when you have 6 arms. Husk tried not to stare.

“Sank into the ground,” Husk suggested, pouring him a drink.

“Stolen,” Angel countered, sliding the glass toward himself.

“Sold for money,” Husk added, stretching out his wings lazily. He plucked out a loose secondary feather, ignoring the small twinge of pain, not unlike when you rip out a hair. 

Angel hummed thoughtfully. “Got eaten by Pentious.”

Husk paused. “…That seems a bit far.”

Angel shrugged. “Hey, you’ve never come to dinner, be glad you’ve never seen him unhinge his jaw like a fuckin’ sna- oh, wait, no, he is. But still. It’s actually both impressive and creepy.”

“I’m right here!” the aforementioned ‘creepy’ snake hissed grumpily from the couch. “It’s not creepy!”

“It really is creepy,” the spider called back, draping himself over the backrest of the chair dramatically. Husk was mildly impressed he didn’t break his spine. He half-heartedly glanced around, before stopping.

Over by the entrance, Niffty was giggling to herself. Nothing unusual on its own, the little fucker was always up to something. Husk didn’t even wanna know what she did to end up here, he was honestly scared shitless by her.

But this time, at least, Husk could see why she was so giggly. 

Niffty watched with wide eyes— sorry, one wide eye as Keke darted around the carpeted floor, directing her attention to a small laser pointed by the little demon herself.

Husk was a cat. That was obvious. And no, he was not scared of cucumbers. Nor was he obsessed with lasers.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t like them. He had no clue why. It wasn’t an overwhelming urge, but just a tiny little thing that was loud enough to be distracting. ‘Hey. Hey. Get the pretty thing. The thingy. Go get it. Hunt. Kill it.’

Shut up, it’s just a fuckin’ laser.

’Okay but what if it’s alive? Then you have to get it. That’s what you do. Kill the red dot.’

“Un altro bicchiere?” (Another glass?) Angel asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“Sì, certo, qualunque cosa,” (Yeah, sure, whatever.) Husk muttered back, absently switching. (He’d picked up a lot of languages here. He was bored, okay? 50 years in Hell is a lot.)

He glanced back at the trembling little glowing dot— NO, back to work. Pour the fucking beer. ACT NORMAL, GODDAMN IT. I’M NOT A FUCKING CAT. BE A HUMA— demon. Right. Be a demon. …Nah, scratch that, but ACT NORMAL.

“..Uhh… Stai bene, gattino?” (Ya good there, kitty?)

Husk realized that he was pouring an empty bottle. Fuck. “Nothin’,” he said flatly. “Just tired of dealin’ with this shit.”

“Aw, yeah.” Angel nodded sagely. “Can’t wait ‘til the next Extermination. I’ll pretend to take Val out on a little date or somethin’… somewhere outdoorsy, he loves that.. an’ he gets his fuckin’ head ripped off by an angel.”

Husk snorted. “Yeah, good idea. Hell, maybe Alast—” he broke off. What did he just hear? He paused, listening intently as he stared purposefully into a blank wall.

…

. . .

.  .  .

Nah, nothing. Anyways. “Maybe Alastor’ll—”

“The fuck was that?” the spider blurted. “What ghost did ya see? You’re exactly like a cat, I swear.”

“Thought I heard somethin’,” Husk said simply, ignoring the last part. My name is Husk. I used to be an overlord. I am a demon. I am NOT A CAT. I do not act like a cat. I do not act like a cat. I will not try to chase that GODDAMN LASER because I am NOT A CAT.

“Turn that shit off,” he hissed.

“What shit?” Angel asked, trying to follow his gaze and miserably failing because he couldn’t see shit.

Niffty glanced up to him ‘innocently’ with a wild eye. “I can control her,” she said breathlessly. “I can control all cats just by owning a a tiny little thingymabob!”

Husk suddenly felt threatened.

“No clue what’s happenin’,” Angel Dust butted in, “but… all cats, ya say?” He paused, straining his eyes. “..Is the fuckin’ carpet on fire? Mio Dio.”

Husk sighed loudly, flicking his tail irritatedly. “No. ‘s a laser.”

“..Oh. Oh~?” Angel turned to him with a wide grin filled with razor-sharp teeth. “A laser, huh? Niffty, gimme that.”

“Okie!” the little cyclop chirped, chucking the dreaded laser pointer across the room.

It hit Angel Dust square on the forehead, before he fumbled to catch it. “Cazzo-! I just meant hand them to me, bitch,” he hissed. “Jeez. But fine.”

“BUGS!” Niffty shrieked suddenly, wildly brandishing her sewing needle, and darted after the offending ladybug. Everyone ignored her.

Angel turned mischievous eyes onto Husk. “So?” He jingled the little black laser pointer playfully, tossing it up and nearly not catching it.

“…Don’t you fuckin’ dare.”

“Can I just ask,” Pentious interrupted, “what is that peculiar little thingy? Can I.. ussse it for something?”

“Wow, you’ve been silent,” Angel observed. “I miss that, too bad. It’s a laser pointer.”

“Hm,” Pentious hummed, scratching his tail absently. “Interessssting.. can I see that?”

Angel shrugged. “Eh. Give it back when you’re done or I’ll kill you an’ Charlie will never find the body,” he said innocently.

Pentious paled. “..Ah. Well. That’sssss.. fun. Let me ssee it?”

“Mm.. sure.” Angel tossed it over to him. 

“Oooooh..”

Yep, he wasn’t returning that thing for a good hour or so, if Husk had to guess. Good. “‘m takin’ a nap,” he growled, breaking away from the bar to go dramatically flop onto the couch.

Except..

“Pentious, what the fuck?” he jumped off of the couch with a cat-like hiss, brushing bits of scale and skin out of his fur. “The FUCK are you doing?”

Sir Pentious simply turned to him, confused. “Hm?”

“You’re fuckin’ shedding. Some kinda disease or something?”

“..Oh.” Pentious’s face morphed to annoyed displeasure, a rare sight for the cheery, flamboyant demon. “Molting sssseason.”

“Take that shit up somewhere else, I’m takin’ a nap here.” Husk ruffled his wings, irritated. “I don’t want your dead skin stuck to my fur.”

“It’ss not myyyyy fault,” the snake complained. “I don’t want this either!”

“I hear ya, new guy,” Angel called out. “Fuckin’ sucks.”

“Exssactly!”

Husk regarded the two coldly, trying to flick off bits of dead skin and scale from his fur. Disgusting.

“It’s all itchy an’ shit.”

“And it’s too hot!”

“Ooh, my brother once used a whole family-sized bottle of lotion during a molt.”

Pentious gasped dramatically. “He did NOT! That is a precious substance!”

“Oh, he did alright. I beat ‘im up.”

Another gasp. “How could you do that to your own brother?”

“…Well, you’re an only child, then. That’s normal, bud.”

Pentious hummed, absently tearing off a bit of snakeskin. “..Alright then.”

Husk considered jumping off of the building so he wouldn’t hafta hear them talk about molting. Maybe he could finally test out Angel’s ‘double-dead’ theory.

“Well, while we’re on the subject of all this..” Angel paused. “What about Smiles an’ Vagina?”

Pentious stared at him, looking disturbed.

“..Alastor and Vaggie.”

”Oh,” the snake said. “Oh, that makes more sense than a literal— oh.”

“Like- she’s a moth,” Angel pointed out. “Does she… eat clothes?”

The lobby was filled with absolute silence.

“Hey, it was just an idea.” Angel shrugged.

Well, then. Fuck leaving. “Hold a sec, I heard somethin’ about moth bait a while back,” Husk said. Angel raised an eyebrow quizzically.

 Husk poured a glass of beer, and scrounged around the bottom cupboards for any old bananas or brown sugar. Miraculously, there was. Plot logic, don’t question it.

He mixed the ingredients together to get some sort of.. weird paste, and casually set the glass on the table with a small ‘chink!’ of glass on wood, waiting.

Not two seconds later, Vaggie stormed through the lobby, muttering to herself in Spanish. Husk had good enough hearing to be able to catch every quiet scoff and cuss word. ..He did not want to translate this.

Angel narrowed his eyes, before finally recognizing her. “What’s the problem, Vagina?” he teased. 

“Será mejor que pares- (You’d better fucking stop-) I found your drug stash, Angel.”

Angel suddenly got quiet, purposefully glancing away. 

“Seriously?” Vaggie hissed. “You’ve been clean for a month!”

Angel shrugged. “I mean, if it helps, I did, like, a quarter less than usual. ..Probably.”

Vaggie growled, scratching herself furiously. She needs to stop doing that, Angel thought, bored. “FUCK, Angel, you know you have to actually commit to this, right? You’re..” she paused. “..What’s that smell?”

Husk glanced over to the brownish-gold paste in the cup. “…A smoothie,” he lied. “Want it?”

Vaggie stared for a few long moments, before snatching the cup and downing the whole thing.

Angel squinted at the scene. “..What’s she.. nevermind.”

“She drank it,” Pentious described to him with a hiss.

“..No fuckin’ way.”

They both stifled giggles. Vaggie narrowed her eyes. “..What?”

“Nothing, toots, nothing,” Angel managed. “It’s, uh… an inside joke?”

Pentious gasped, eyes sparkling. “An inside joke? Like friends have? We’re.. friendssssss?”

“…Sure, bud.”

Vaggie studied the spider and snake for a few seconds longer. “Okay… well, good to see you’re getting along. Thanks for the drink.”

She stormed away— as she usually did— and they heard the door slam shut.

Angel erupted into wild laughter. “Holy shit, she actually drank it!”

“I declare thee a true moth!” Pentious announced, drawing himself up to his full height as he flared out his hood.

“Here, here,” Husk commented lazily, raising a glass. He drank, purring contently.

He paused when he felt a cold shadow behind him, heard staticky feedback like… like a…

“Well, then! You seem like quite the cheery bunch today!” Alastor said, twirling his staff like the fucking show-off he was. 

“Heeyyy~” Angel purred.

Alastor stared at the spider demon soulessly for a long moment, the constant smile never leaving his face, but it was obvious that the radio demon wanted nothing more than to wipe the “sexually depraved” demon, his exact words, out of reality.

“WELL!” he  continued loudly, startling Husk into a cat-like hiss, “I must ask, what’s got you so excited? You look like you’re having a gas!”

Pentious stared blankly. “…A what.”

“It means having fun,” Angel said. “Keep up, new guy.”

“Vaggie just downed a bottle of moth bait,” Husk supplied tiredly. “So she’s a moth.”

Alastor simply hummed. “Moths, hm? I do wonder..”

“Lights!” Angel burst out, throwing up his arms. “Oh my god, we need to get a flashlight! Right now!”

Alastor paused, thinking. “Well… consider this a little favor for the sake of entertainment,” he decided finally. He snapped his fingers, and an old-looking metallic flashlight was lightly dropped between the snake and spider.

Angel picked it up, studying it closely. “Oh, straight from the 20s. That brings back memories,” he said wistfully. He flashed it on and off pointlessly, grinning. “Aw, yeah, this’ll be great.” 

And then he pointed it right at Alastor.

The radio demon froze. Completely still, with wide thoughtless eyes and an animalistic stare. Like a deer in headlights.

Angel, literally blind to the deer demon’s reaction, casually flicked it on and off as he rambles.

“Okay, so I’m thinkin’ we call Vaggie over to go check a cupboard or somethin’, I dunno, we’ll figure it out, ‘cept when she opens it, there’s like a million flashlights in there. D’ya think she’ll just stare at the lights or something? Or, like.. literally try to hoard it all? ..Why do moths even like light, actually… why isn’t anyone saying anything back.”

Alastor blinked, looking distoriented, his smile actually fading slightly, a fucking miracle. “Do you mind,” he snapped, “not doing that?” He brushed off his suit.

“..Doin’ what?” Angel asked obliviously, flicking the flashlight back on.

Pentious let out a half-squeal-half-hiss of laughter. “He’s afraid of it!” he declared happily.

“He’s a deer in headlights,” Husk added, deadpan. “Fuckin’ frozen. You should prob’ly turn it off, unless you want him to stay like that forever.”

Angel paused, before grinning.

“NOPE,” Husk hissed. “Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas. The Radio Demon bein’ here in the middle of the lobby is bad for business.”

“Hm,” Angel hummed, disappointed, before turning off the flashlight reluctantly.

Alastor rubbed his eyes distractedly, muttering to himself. “The only reason I’m not killing you right now is because I only just came back from the tailor’s. Killing you would be messy.”

Angel shrugged. “Yeah, I’m messy. A real beast in the bedro—”

“WELL, I’m afraid I have some VERY IMPORTANT business to take care of!” Alastor interrupted before Angel could finish. “Take your depraved sexual nature and innuendos somewhere else, like Antarctica! I best be off now!”

The shadows swallowed him, and he was gone.

Angel shrugged. “Eh. His loss.”

Chapter Text

If anyone ever says that they’ll “do it when Hell freezes over,” check the calendar. Because Hell does, in fact, have winter.

Specifically, winter that would make Antarctica seem positively nice.

Every year, as usual, winter comes. Every year, as usual, Sir Pentious is convinced he’s going to die.

He slithered into the corner, at about the same pace as a dying snail. He curled up into himself and wished that spring would come, with a small growl.

He would’ve gone up to his room, except he wasn’t actually sure if he could move. Or, if he could, he was too tired to. In his room, there was warmth. And food. And a general feeling of not-dying.

But the stairs were already a nuisance on a normal day, so he usually managed by going the long way, crawling on the plumbing. Going up the stairs (or on the pipes) on a freezing-cold winter day, half-dead, starving and exhausted? Probably not a good idea.

So he was stuck here, curled up on the floor, practically comatose, on a dirty red-velvet floor that smelled like feet and dirt, with zero protection from the cold.

Yes, I’ll certainly be dying tonight, he mused. I’d better hope I find a pencil and paper for my second will.

Oh, imagine the possibilities if he could control the weather. Well, he could build something! Hm. He started planning it in his head, if only for the excuse of not thinking about the cold.

Yes, it could be something that heats up the very air itself.. changing the weather conditions. Conditions. Such a silly word. Conditions… conditioner.. air conditioner.. yes, that’s what it should be called. Air conditioner. That’s a good name for it. The invention of the century! People would remember 1888 as the year the brave Sir Pentious saved them all with the ‘Air Conditioner’! 

He should let the others know about his brilliant invention, shouldn’t he? Where were they again?

His sluggish brain had to take a few minutes’ break before slowly regurgitating a fraction of an answer. Out. Yes, they had gone out a while ago. Why did they…? He couldn’t remember.

Oh, and Alastor had taken the Egg Bois out on a walk, right? Or did he do that 2 weeks ago? He couldn’t remember. He knew he was alone for sure. But time was barely a thing anymore. Somewhere in a corner of his mind, he noted that he was being completely delusional.

So that was fun, being completely alone to die again.

Well, maybe he could risk moving. At the very least, he could crawl to the bar and hope whiskey made for good insulation. Or he could drink until he couldn’t feel anymore. Either would be fun.

Actually, no, too exhausting.

Oh, to be a lizard in the hot desert sun. Sun… sun meant energy. Energy meant heat, and heat meant everything right and good in the world. Like fire. Yes, fire was warm.

He wondered how angry Charlotte would be if he set the Hotel on fire. 

He heard the front door open, though he was too tired to open his eyes, and winced as the freezing cold too cold wind howled angrily, like the spirits of the damned. Like him.

“God fuckin’ dammit, it’s too cold for this shit, where’s the fuckin’ sun when you need it—”

Hm. A voice. He knew that voice, didn’t he? Somewhere? A long time ago? It took a few minutes— enough time for the swearing voice to move from the front door to the bar— before it clicked.

Oh. The cat… Puck? Huck? Huckleberry? Oh, Huckleberry Finn, he remembered reading that book when it came out, a few years before he died, he quite enjoyed it, really changed his view on the world— wait, what was he… no, he was getting off-track? Maybe? What was he thinking about… right, right, the name… it— cat… a cat.. no, THE cat… something to do with swearing.. the cold?

Another few seconds gave him enough clarity to remember names. Ah, right, Husk. Or Husker. He couldn’t remember. He wanted to sleep.

“Fuckin’ weather,” the voice grumbled with a hiss. “Can’t there just be some nice sunlight? God, can’t wait for the best fuckin’ nap, dead in the middle of July in a patch of sunlight— so fuckin’ loud—”

Pentious heard a sound of glass-on-wood, and something being poured— Tea? he thought hopefully. Oh, if someone were to throw scalding hot tea on him, he would thank them— wait, no, he smelled something.. something familiar— just alcohol. Disappointment would’ve flooded him, but he was half-loopy with starvation and exhaustion so he just felt numb.

“Eurgh, I’m gettin’ the heater,” Husk muttered grumpily, “can’t stand this shit. Angel can go build as many snowmen as he wants, I’m gonna hole up right here. …Hey, I can say whatever I want, the bitch isn’t here to twist it into a sex pun. No one is.. heheh.”

Husk was completely and utterly wrong, hello, the GREAT SIR PENTIOUS was right here. On the floor. Dying. But he was still present! Physically, anyway. Mentally, perhaps 48%.

Fading footsteps. More silence, followed by a scraping sound accompanied by grunting. “Fuckin’ hell, this thing is heavy.”

Pentious heard something weird, something he couldn’t understand at all, even if he strained his poor, tired, but still very smart, just cold brain. Like someone just shoved something into the wall. But it.. went in? Like someone.. plugged it, sort of. Weird. Perhaps he was having audio hallucinations.

He heard a whirr that he’d literally never heard before in his life, and for a half-second he felt a small sliver of wonderful, blissful warmth.

He opened his eye to a small slit. Some… weird tube-thingy, calmly turning in place, with a string running from the base and into the wall, on the other side of the lobby. The couch was blocking his view, but he assumed Husk was there, judging by the contented sigh.

He had no clue what to call that tube-thingy, but his cold-addled reptile brain knew one thing for sure, that whatever this bizarre contraption was, it was warm. He needed it.

He hissed quietly with longing. He’d never take the sun for granted again.

A few seconds later, he heard a grunt, and a mild scraping of claws— Husk got up? Footsteps… he finally opened his eyes for real.

“Oh, what the fuck happened to you?” Husk growled, flicking his tail.

“..Um..” Pentious had to take a minute to process the concept of language. Right. Words existed. “..cold. Very.. very cold,” he finally managed, with a reptilian hiss. 

“Yeah, I can see that.” Husk waved a hand dismissively to the window. From his pathetic patch of floor, Pentious couldn’t see it. But he could definitely hear the shrieking winds, feel the biting cold.

“Warmth?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll bring the heater here,” Husk said, walking back to the weird tube-thingy. He yanked the string out of the wall and dragged it over to his side of the room. He shoved the cord into the wall— Pentious still had no clue why he did that— and flipped something at the top of the tube and there was heat. Finally. Yes. YES. Hot air. Amazing, blissful, delightful, euphoric, fantastic heat.

He let out a content hiss as the warm air hit him. This was euphoria. This was heaven.

“It is, isn’t it?” Husk chuckled.

Oh. Did he say something out loud? Huh. “Yesss..” he hissed finally. “It’s good. Warm.”

The tube-thing rotated, and as the warmth blasted Husk, he purred. “Fuck winter, am I right?”

“You are completely and utterly correct,” Pentious agreed. “Fuck it!”

“Yeah, fuck it!”

“FUCK WINTER!” he declared excitedly, flaring out his hood. 

…

“...Oh, dear, was that too loud?” he asked.

“Nah.”

The two sat in silence, relishing every single time the warmth blessed them. Pentious suddenly remembered how he hadn’t eaten in who-knows-how-long out of fatigue.

“You drink?” Husk asked.

“Mm.. no, I do not drink much,” Pentious answered. “I quite prefer having a clear head.”

“An’ what, just rawdoggin’ life?”

Pentious stared, confused. He waded through the swamp of his mind with difficulty. It clicked. “Oh- well, I suppose in a manner of speaking… yessss?” 

“Damn.”

More silence. Hm. He was still hungry. That could wait until he had enough energy to actually move around. What would be the cool thing to say, to fill the silence?

“I don’t drink alcohol, but… I… consssssssume food?” he tried. Curses, he was thinking about food too much. 

“I’ll see if I can find anything,” Husk said simply, getting up.

20 minutes later, Pentious had warmth, he had food (greasy cheeseburgers and fries, which he’d never tried but they were quite good), and he had company.

“Sssssssso…” he hissed. “…Explain this strange machine to me?”

“The.. heater?” Husk asked, flicking his ear.

“The— yes. That.”

“Uhh… it sucks in air. Makes it hot. Blows it out. ..I think.”

“Hm, very interessssting.” Pentious studied it intently. He’d love to disassemble it, but he preferred not having brain fog. Hm. It controlled the air… air conditioner, right, his new idea!

“I have a new invention to make!” he announced proudly.

Husk raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“It shall control the weather, and itsssss name shall be…” he paused dramatically. “The Air Conditioner! Because- it makes the air warm. It changes weather conditions. Air, plus condition, see? Air. Conditioner. It’s cool, issssn’t it?” he asked.

“…” Husk stared blankly for a moment, eyes flicking sideways. “…Cool idea,” he said finally, though a bit too flat for Pentious’s liking. “Really original.”

Chapter Text

Alastor preferred winter, thank you very much. In New Orleans, it was never that cold, with the temperatures ranging from 64 to 45˚Fahrenheit. He’d always loved winter for that reason. He saw that other places had to shovel snow as they got out of the house. Meanwhile, he just needed to find a thin coat.

So, as long as he had been in Hell, he’d never quite gotten used to actually feeling cold. 38˚Fahrenheit in winter? That’s preposterous, why, that’s what it’s like in the North Pole!

Oh, how he wished it would be 38˚Fahrenheit now. Because the temperature for today, for the people burning in Hell?

-164˚Fahrenheit. And that’s the average.

And for some idiotic reason, the little Hellish princess thought that today would be a ‘nice’ day to go outside. Alastor guessed that she was trying to find ducks to feed.

“C’mon, Vaggie!” Charlie squealed. “Come on, come on!” She took the moth’s hand and dragged her over to the frozen pond. 

“Oh, how fun,” the depraved addict— Angel Dust— said, sounding like how Alastor felt. “A block of ice in the ground. Cool.”

“I was under the impression that goats didn’t like the cold,” Alastor quipped.

Charlotte— fine, Charlie was visibly annoyed. Weak. “It’s not that cold,” she said. Oh, dear me, she’d better be joking about that. “It’s actually really nice! And you all said you’ve never ice-skated, riiiggghhht?” 

Alastor did not like that mischievous look on her face.

“So Vaggie and I are gonna show you!” Charlie announced. “Everyone should know how to ice-skate!” She grinned excitedly.

Nobody cheered.

Charlie seemingly didn’t notice. “It’s not part a lesson,” she continued sharply, before Angel could whine. “I just thought you guys should learn! ..Although, I wonder if this could be used for team-building or trust exercises..” she mused.

Ice-skating… Alastor was decidedly not pleased. Although, he’d read in the papers a while back— the “United States Figure Skating Association”— USFSA. Hadn’t that been formed, what, a few years ago? Why, it was only 1921… quite a coincidence for Charlotte to suddenly develop an interest in skating.

Although, he’d gotten the distinct impression that Charlie was the type of person to plan out enormous projects, work feverishly for 2 weeks straight, get bored, and drop it. 

But anyways, here he was, dead in the middle of winter, as a scatterbrained princess tried to teach sinners to ice-skate. As much as he hated it, he had to admit, it was very entertaining indeed. He’d stay.

Angel held up his skates by the laces, looking annoyed. “An’ how the fuck d’ya think we’re gonna put them on?”

Vaggie paused, staring at Angel with annoyance. “…By.. tying the laces?”

“These are made for human feet. I’m not gonna fit in these.”

Alastor instinctively glanced down. Yes, the spider was right. Hooves and shoes didn’t mix. ..He didn’t know what Angel had, but he assuming ‘spider-like’. And he quite wanted to stop thinking about feet now.

“Well then,” he said slowly, “I suppose we can’t take part in your charming little activity! How sad!”

Angel paused. “Yeah.. yeah, I’m really sorry I can’t do this,” he said, sounding genuinely sad. Well, Alastor supposed he wasn’t an actor for nothing. 

“Such a shame, really,” Alastor continued, trying to force ‘guilt’ into his voice and miserably failing. “Why, I had.. always wanted to learn to ice-skate when I was alive! I’m afraid that shall never happen now.” Too sad? Too sad. Ah, well, the princess had the memory of a goldfish, she’d forget in 2 minutes.

Angel glanced at him, looking deeply disturbed. ‘The fuck was that?’ he mouthed. ‘Is that even actin’?’

Well, fuck you then, Angel Dust.

“I must be off now,” he said. “I have an appointment with Rosie that I’d prefer not to miss, I’m deeply sorry for not being able to participate in your ga—” he stumbled, sliding across the ground in a way that he did not like. Make it stop.

Something in the physics must’ve changed, for the snow was suddenly not crunchy and wet, but instead slippery and rock-solid— Ice. Dear God, not the ice.

“Oh, are you alright?” Charlie asked anxiously.

Alastor stayed statue-still. If he moved, he would surely slip and fall, and he preferred to not go through the embarrassing procedure of trying to stand up again if that happened.

Angel snickered. “Ya good there, doe?”

A reminder for later— kill him. “Perfectly alright,” he called back naturally, or, at least, he hoped it came off that way. “I just didn’t notice the ice, as the snow was covering it..”

“Yeah, that’s fair. Get back here so we can dramatically storm away from here.” Angel and his theatrics. As much as Alastor could appreciate good acting, he found that those involved in theatre were usually quite annoying. Case in point.

But also if he tried to walk on ice, rest assured, he would die. Physically, socially, mentally, whichever you prefer. “No, thank you, I’m quite alright where I am! I’m not much for the sorts of.. dramatics you like.”

Vaggie studied him skeptically. “…Okay?”

Alastor crossed his arms behind his back, looking especially casual. Yes. This was exactly where he wanted to be. Stuck on the ice with an audience waiting for him to slip and fall.

Whoever made his demon form the way it was, he wanted to know why they felt the need to give him hooves. He just wanted to talk.

“..Are you sure you’re not gonna come back here?” Charlie asked.

“Erm— no, no, I’m.. I’m very comfortable right here, in this exact spot, there’s no need to move!” 

“Right, right,” Angel said skeptically. “Sure.”

Out of habit, and a desire to show how very pleased he was to be right here on the ice, Alastor casually leaned on his mic. 

And immediately fell over.  “Ow, FUCK—”

Angel burst out laughing. “Oh my god, this is great!” He took out his phone. Alastor was unfamiliar with the devices, but he understood that you could create your own picture shows.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

With a spark of green, the spider was left empty-handed. “..Hey!” he whined.

“I’ll be having none of that, thank you,” Alastor said, straightening up. He felt his hooves slide underneath him and it was all he could do to not immediately slip and fall again.

Oh, how he hated the ice.

————

The doors swung open, inviting the screaming blizzard inside, like a guest you really don’t like but have to invite anyway or else it’ll be blatantly obvious that you hate them. (Susan.)

Sir Pentious and Husk both flinched away from the shrieking cold, when the doors shut quickly. 

“Oh, dear me, there’s snow inside,” Alastor remarked casually, brushing the ice off of his coat. He shook his head to rid himself of the frost in his hair. “Well, I’ll have to clean that up!”

He glanced over at the two demons, flicking his deer-like ears curiously. Husk was practically being strangled by a warmth-starved Sir Pentious, the heater blasting them with hot air. “…Am I interrupting something?” he asked mildly.

Husk hissed at the sight of the deer, ears pinned back. If Alastor knew anything about cat body language, he’d guess that meant ‘afraid’. Good.

“Why are you here?”

Alastor didn’t seem to mind the cat’s aggressive demeanor. “I must say, I used to like the winter, but I don’t believe I want to stay out in this weather a moment longer.”

“..Join the club,” Husk grunted. “Fuck the cold.”

“Fuck winter,” Pentious groaned.

Alastor nodded sagely. “I’ll see if I can get a good fire going.”

Chapter Text

Alastor sighed tiredly. “If you’re going to do that idiotic gag, please keep me out of it.” He regarded the pile of nightlights, lightbulbs, flashlights, and other things of the sort with a look of pure loathing.

Angel snickered. “Will do, fawn.”

“We’ll tell ya when to leave,” Husk said, duct-taping a row of flashlights together. The reflective silvery backing of the tape would be perfect for the bright lights.

This was one of Angel’s better ideas, not counting the time he set the thermostat to slightly below what Alastor was used to.

Being from New Orleans, the deer was more comfortable with warmer temperatures. Husk had been skeptical, but the second the Radio Demon stepped outside of his room, he immediately dragged a heater into a lobby. (Sir Pentious also joined him, nearly instantaneously, as he was cold-blooded.)

Angel eventually revealed it was him, and since Alastor wasn’t completely sure how to figure out the thermostat they had, he spent the day glaring at the spider, pissed-off and helpless. It was subtle, but enough to royally fuck with him. 

This wasn’t exactly subtle.

Adding another layer of flashlights, Husk scoffed. “Are we even sure this’ll work?”

Angel let out a small chuckle. “I always see her stare at lightbulbs. The hotel sign. Your bar’s display. Fire. It’ll work. Trust me.”

Husk paused. “Shaddup,” he muttered. “I hear someone.”

The three of them froze. Alastor was still for a moment, save for a small flick of his ear. Angel, being the only one of the three without enhanced hearing, stared blankly.

Husk angled his own ears towards the staircase. A sound.. not footsteps. Slithering, followed by a reptilian hiss. 

“Just the new guy,” he grunted. “Never mind.”

“Think this is enough?” Angel mused, using 5 of his arms to plug in some particularly bright nightlights, his 6th arm holding the portable outlet-thingy in place.

Husk studied the cluster of lights. “Mm.. gimme a sec. Al, do you mind—”

“Yes, I do mind,” the deer snapped. “I understand you’re doing something, but do you really need that many lights? It seems a bit…”

“Dramatic?” Angel filled in.

“I was going to say outrageous, but that as well.” Alastor scowled at the biblically accurate angel of lightbulbs.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, you hate bright lights,” Angel sighed. “Fine. Get outta the room, ‘cause we’re gonna turn it on now.”

Alastor had never disappeared so quickly.

The spider grinned at the cat. “Ready to plug it in?”

“Born ready.”

Husk plugged in the ball of lightbulbs, flashlights, and nightlights. The room immediately exploded with light.

Angel tried to stifle squealing laughter, shoving a pillow to his face. “Oh my god, Vaggie’s gonna love this.”

Husk gave him a small smirk, before clearing his throat. “HEY, VAGGIE?”

A few seconds. Husk flicked his ears in annoyance as the buzzing lights, the sound amplified tenfold to his sensitive hearing. But it was worth it. 

He perked up. “I hear footsteps.”

Angel grinned.

1.. 2.. 3.

“Whaaat?” Vaggie groaned from upstairs. The corner hid her from view, but she was close. “I was having a nap.”

“Wish I were having a nap,” Husk muttered. Angel elbowed him roughly. 

“Wanna see what we made?” he asked slyly.

Vaggie peeked downstairs and her gaze drifted to the mini-sun they’d created just for this moment. Her pupil dilated until her eye was practically a shiny black hole. A bit like a cat. A bit like Husk, Angel mused, remembering the time Keekee had gotten a catnip toy and it got a bit too close to the bar.

A blur of gray and red rushed past the two partners in crime and stared at the sphere of heavenly light like it had saved her entire family’s lives.

Husk snickered. “Whaddya think?”

“It’s so pretty..” Vaggie whispered. Angel could’ve sworn he saw an actual tear in her eye.

“Success,” he said with a grin, holding up a hand for a high-five. Husk gave in and slapped his hand half-heatedly with his own paw.

“Ow, what the fuck, watch your fuckin’ claws-”

“Mkay.”

Silence, as the two watched the moth stare at the light-sphere, completely entranced.

“…Now where the hell did you put the capnip?” Husk asked lightly. “Just out of curiosity.”

“Curiosity killed the cat. You’re not gettin’ it, bud.”

“Damn it.”

They admired their handiwork for a moment, ignoring how their eyeballs screamed in protest at the relentlessly bright lights.

“Wanna try this on Valentino?”

“You fuckin’ bet I do.”

Chapter Text

Vaggie stared at Angel, looking the most pissed-off he’d ever seen her.

Angel stared back innocently, and the moth narrowed her eyes. Angel casually took out his phone, ‘accidentally’ enabling the phone light.

Vaggie glanced at it longingly, before glaring back. “Don’t distract me.”

The spider grinned. “Oh? What am I doin—” before he could finish, his phone was knocked out of his hand by a certain silvery-steel spear. “Hey..”

“You’re not gonna do that again, you hear me?” Vaggie said coldly.

Angel made a small spidery noise, something between a hiss and a click, and shrugged, picking up his phone with a secondary arm.

“You hear me?” Vaggie repeated.

“Yeah, yeah, moth. ..D’you eat clothes?” Angel asked, drumming his fingers on his leg distractedly.

“…No,” Vaggie said. (Okay, fine, yes, happy? Wool was good. Keratin was good. End of story.) “And that wasn’t an answer, Angel. You’re not gonna do that again, right?”

Angel sighed, annoyed. “Fiiinnnneeee..”

Vaggie nodded, satisfied. “Good. Also, I found your other-other stash.”

Angel groaned, before peeling off his left glove. “Fuck you,” he muttered. “I was lookin’ forward to that shit.”

“Uh-huh,” Vaggie hummed. “Do you wanna be redeemed?”

Angel slipped off his other glove. “..Hey, if it’s Heaven, they’ll have whatever you want. Who cares?”

“I care. Charlie cares. You’re gonna be clean.”

Angel regarded the moth with the same pissed-off expression she’d worn only a minute before, getting up and strolling over to the corner. He bent down, like he was going to tie his shoe. Except he was wearing boots without laces.

“..What are you doing?” Vaggie asked cautiously. 

“Nooothin’,” the spider answered a way that rang all of her alarm bells. He kicked off his boots.

Vaggie had never seen Angel’s feet before. …Not that she even wanted to. But spider paws weren’t what she was expecting. Sort of like 2 rounded toes, like a cat’s foot, with a curved black claw. 

Angel stood up, put a foot— paw— thing on the wall, and walked up the wall, maintaining direct eye contact the whole time.

“What the fuck—?”

“Bitch!” Angel called out, flashing the phone light right at Vaggie.

The light. So freaking pretty. So beautiful. But no, she told herself. She ripped herself away from the trance and groaned, closing her eyes. “Oh, fuck you!”

“Sorry, can’t hear ya up here! You’re gonna hafta come up here yourself!” Angel laughed, shaking the beautiful, wonderful, heavenly light enticingly. “C’mon~!”

“Aaagh.. seriously? You’re acting like a little kid!”

“Childhood is freedom, bitch! I can see the whole fuckin’ hotel from up here, I am God incarnate!”

“Your ego is. You, not so much.”

If she only still had wings— but no, she couldn’t. ..Although..“I’m gonna get Charlie!”

Angel scoffed. “What’s she gonna do, sing me down?”

Vaggie picked up her phone innocently, and rang her. She always answered within 2 rings.

“Hi, Vaggie! Whatcha need me for, also, I can come right away and I got a souvenir from Cannibal Town—”

“Hey, hun.. yeah, you know you can do that thing? That goats do?”

“Which thing? I mean, I can do a lot, not to brag, oh Lord, did that sound narcissistic—”

“No, no! The- the thing.” She lowered her voice, so Angel wouldn’t hear. Just as surprise. “The, uh.. wall thing?”

”Eooooooh, okay! Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean, like- like- like remember the time we went hiking and—”

“Yeah, I do, it was amazing, and Angel’s being a real petty bitch,” Vaggie said, tone rising.

“Oi, vaffanculo!” Angel cussed from the ceiling.

“—And he’s on the ceiling right now, and I was wondering if you could come over and—”

“Omigosh, YES, YES, no need to tell me anymore, I’ll find out for myself I’ll be there in a minute byeeee!”

‘A minute’ was an understatement. Barely a moment passed after they hung up, when Charlie burst through the door, swooped Vaggie into a hug, overestimated her momentum, and sent the two collapsing onto the couch, laughing.

Charlie immediately bolted up, literally vibrating.

“..Did.. did you have too much coffee again?” Vaggie asked.

Charlie shook her head, waving the question away. “Pssh, no, I swear, not really this time, I was just talking with Alastor’s friend, Rosie, and hoo boy, she puts a LOT of sugar in her tea, I am seeing the 5th dimension right now.”

Vaggie really hoped that was an exaggeration. Knowing her all-powerful girlfriend.. “What’s the 5th dimension look like?”

“It’s really blue and pink and it’s like all shapes are squared— as in, like, amplified, extra sphere-y and square-y and triangle..y— generally SHAPED, not cube-ified like Minecraft or whatever but it’s really messing with my brain, I wanna go back to the 3rd dimension now.”

“Hey, I saw that!” Angel called back, snapping his fingers. “Yeah, I was high yesterday and I think I know you mean! Holy shit, I saw past the 3rd—”

“OOOKAY,” Vaggie interrupted. “Angel, no drugs. Charlie, take a deep breath, and I’ll get you some water.”

“Rosie’s tea is sooo fucking sweet, I didn’t wanna be rude— it’s really good but h-holy CRAP I’m dying.”

“You’re immortal, sweetie,” Vaggie reminded her, ducking out of the room. 1 minute later, Charlie was one iota calmer, and Angel was still stubbornly on the ceiling.

“Didja bring back any of the tea?” he called down curiously. “‘Cause that sounds amazing—”

“Nope!” Charlie answered brightly. “Now, please get down here? Vaggie’s really uncomfortable with you taunting her with the lights— it’s not exactly a nice thing, yknow?”

“Ah, c’mon, she likes the lights!” Angel shrugged. “She’s depriving herself of happiness.”

Vaggie buried her face in her hands. Charlie gently grabbed her hand so she wouldn’t be tempted to rip out her hair.

“Then why would she be telling you to stop?”

“Because she’s boring?” Angel gestured at the moth carelessly.

Charlie stared Angel dead in the eye for a moment. “…”

Angel glanced away uncomfortably. “..What? Wh- was it sumthin’ I said?”

Charlie silently took Vaggie’s hand and walked the both of them out of the room.

2 seconds later, Charlie came back with a can bug spray. “Okay, I’m just gonna—”

“You can’t even get me from down here!” Angel snickered.

Charlie looked at him sweetly, like a doll, before rolling up her pant-sleeves to reveal goat-like hooves. She strolled over to the wall, much like Angel did before, and, with a small grunt, began delicately climbing up the wall. Holy shit. She’s a mountain goat.

Within 2 seconds, she was nearly level with Angel— although, the spider was standing upside-down on the ceiling, while Charlie was perched on the flat fucking wall but they could make eye contact.

“So, are you gonna stop bullying Vaggie or should I..” Charlie pointed at the bug spray.

“..You wouldn’t.”

Charlie shook the can aggressively and popped off the lid. “Alright, let’s see if you believe that when I—”

“No, no, no, NO NO, CHARLIE, WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS— CHARLIE—”

Chapter Text

Sir Pentious stormed into the room and curled up into a ball on the couch, next to Angel Dust.

Angel scratched his arm, annoyed. “You too?”

“I’m afraid sssso,” the snake hissed, picking off a piece of dead, dried scale-and-skin. So itchy. So annoying.

“Damn.”

Silence for a few minutes, though.

“So how often do snakes shed?”

Pentious peeked out from his python-style pretzelled ball. “..About onccce a month.”

“Same here. We’re sufferin’ together. Yay.” Angel half-heartedly raised a trembling hand like a really lame celebration.

Pentious nodded, before noticing. “Er- Angel Dust, your clothes are..” he gestured weakly to the cushion the spider was sitting on.

Angel followed his gaze to the loose dark hairs and fur clinging to the back of his suit blazer. “HUSK.”

The guy in question peeked up from behind the bar, only his eyes and ears visible. “Huh?”

“You’re fuckin’ shedding, my shit’s ruined!”

“You two’re busy ruining a perfectly good couch,” the cat pointed out with a long, sharp claw. “I don’t think you can talk.”

“I— allora— you’re just bein’ a— …okay. Fine! Touche.”

“Go shed somewhere else,” Husk said. “That couch is mine.”

“It belongs to everyone, shithead!”

“Shut up,” Pentious hissed absently, baring sharp fangs. His tail rattled menacingly, a warning. They shut up.

You’re gonna clean the fuckin’ couch, Angel mouthed to the cat.

Husk stared blankly. “..I don’t read lips.”

“Ya serious? Six fuckin’ languages an’ ya can’t read lips?” Angel gestured at him, lost for words.

Husk simply shrugged, flicking his tail, and disappeared under the bar again. And there was silence. A few nice, quiet minutes passed.

Angel fidgeted in his seat, scratching furiously at half-molted skin and fur. It felt like when you have dried glue on your hands, except it’s everywhere and there’s fur and it’s so itchy, you wanna rip your skin off. “Fuck this, I’m gettin’ lotion. Be right back.”

He got up and walked out of the room.

Okay, where was the bathroom again? He paused. ..Right, it was over— HOLY SHIT, WHAT IS THAT SMELL. What crawled in here and died?

He hesitated. Yep. It was coming from the bathroom. Ah, well. He needed to get the stuff, and he was curious anyway, so let’s just ignore the smell of death and rotting. He’d smelled that before, the several times Alastor had dragged in a dead deer as “breakfast”, this wasn’t any different! ..Except he’d be up close in a tiny bathroom with whatever was making that smell.

Fuck it.

He opened the door, and gagged.

Alastor froze like a deer in headlights, and Angel saw that his black antlers were now vermillion with blood, some sort of velvety material— IS THAT SKIN?— dangling from them, as though someone had peeled off a layer of flesh and fur. Blood and bits of velvet-layered skin were spattered across the bathroom counter. It smelled like death. And rotting. And generally unpleasant things.

“Holy shi—”

“Ah, Angel, do you mind leaving? I’m in the middle of something.” Alastor’s eyes were burning through Angel. Oh, yep. He was mad.

“Er- yeah, yeah- sure, I’ll let ya get back to.. peeling your skin off.” Angel quickly slammed the door close.

He let out a small noise that was something like a cross between wheezing, whining, squeaking. Eurgh, gross. Grossgrossgrossgrossgrossgrossgrossgrossgross. Ew. Disgusting. 

“Are we out of lotion?” Pentious asked with a sigh. Angel quickly sat down, staring at nothing like he’d just witnessed something traumatizing.

“Uh- no. We’re- we’re not. But, uh… the bathroom’s gonna hafta be sterilized, because Alastor decided to go rip his skin off.”

Pentious pulled his hood down, regretting he’d ever asked. “..Oh. That’sss, um… ssomething.”

Husk’s ears perked up slightly. “..Wait, huh?”

“Alastor’s ripping his skin off,” Angel explained.

“…Uh huh.” Husk paused. “..You know how deer antlers have that velvety stuff on them?”

“I.. think so, why?”

“They shed that velvet, Angel. It’s just more shedding. ..Except bloodier.”

“..Huh.”

The three sat in silence.

“Why the fuck is everyone shedding now?” Angel asked.

“Plot conveniencccce?” Pentious suggested.

“You two shed once a month, and days are getting shorter, so the velvet-stuff is drying up,” Husk explained. 

“Oh,” the two said in unison.

More silence.

“..This sucksssss.”

“Tell me about it.”

Chapter Text

Angel and Vaggie had an Agreement, which was really too simple to warrant the capital A. They were both nocturnal, preferring to do their stuff when nobody else was awake. ..Which got a bit harder when there was someone else awake. E.g., each other.

Therefore, whatever they’re doing in the dead of the night, they never speak of it. 

If Vaggie was watching the Titanic and sobbing her heart out, Angel didn’t blink an eye. If Angel was turning all the pictures in the house upside down, Vaggie did nothing.

What happened in the Night stayed in the Night.

Except, then Alastor happened, and suddenly, instead of three people, there was six. And then Sir Pentious came along, making seven.

So it got a bit more complicated, making sure EVERYONE was asleep. Except, as it turned out, no. Most of them didn’t sleep, at least, not at what most people would call a reasonable time.

Angel yawned as he flopped onto the couch. Midnight, the perfect time to binge-watch ‘Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?’ He clicked the TV on, hissing at the sudden ghoulish blue light. Too fuckin’ bright. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust, before he stretched his arms out. Ooh, yeah, that felt—

..oddly fluffy.

He slowly turned around, and was met by reflective gold eyes, wide as the moon.

“Mrrp?”

“I— …Husk?”

The thing blinked a few times, as though coming out of a daze, and shook itself. “Fuckin’ hell, what’re you doin’ up at midnight?”

“Oh my god you did the cat thing,” Angel whispered in awe.

“..What cat thing?”

“Bitch, don’t play dumb. The little fuckin- the trill thingy. And I’m nocturnal.”

The blur of black-against-black moved out of visual range, before Angel heard a small rustling noise, and saw glowing yellow rings right next him on the couch. “I see you awake during the day, you know. If you’re awake now.. wait, how the fuck do you sleep?”

“Whenever I’m alone. What are you doin’ up, kitty?” Angel countered. 

“Burning off energy.”

“I don’t think the words ‘energy’ and ‘Husk’ belong in the same sentence. You sleep, like.. most of the time.”

“But now it’s night,” Husk pointed out. “I’m not tired, why should I sleep?”

“Good point.” Angel grabbed the remote, clicking on the program, only to be met with an overwhelmingly loud noise. Let’s just say it’s a noise he’s quite familiar with from work.

“Oh, shit-”

Husk flinched, pinning back his ears with a hiss. Angel quickly turned the volume down to 0. 

“Uh.. shit. Sorry.”

Vaggie poked her head into the room with a horrified-pissed expression. “I’m sorry, Angel, what the fuck was— ..Husk?”

“Hey,” the cat muttered simply, getting up.

“Aw, c’mon, you don’t gotta leave,” Angel groaned. “Stay?”

“I never said I was leaving. But pick some other show, not that horny shit.”

“Keep the volume down,” Vaggie insisted in a whisper. “You’re breaking our code of conduct.”

“I said sorry!” Angel protested, before realizing his volume. “I said sorry,” he repeated in a whisper.

“What code of conduct?” a high voice asked from the stairs. There was a small tap-tap-tapping noise, like an oversized cockroach skittering across the floor.

A bright spotlight of a red-yellow gradient, with a single tiny black dot in the center, stared unblinkingly, manically, at him as it scrambled up the sofa.

Angel yelped, bolting out of his seat. Husk fled the room entirely, like when you have a cat on your lap and you move the tiniest bit, so said cat decides it was an unforgivable crime.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Niff, what are you doin’ up?” Angel cursed.

“Don’t say His name,” Vaggie hissed. “You’re gonna burn Charlie, do you want that?”

Angel stared, deadpan, at Vaggie. “Oh, unholy Lucifer, please forgive me. I don’t fuckin’ know. There, better? No more Jes— I mean You-Know-Who.”

Vaggie nodded sagely, swiftly leaving the room to go have a Main Character Moment or something, he didn’t fuckin’ know.

“It’s midnight,” Niffty said.

“Wow, I had no idea,” Angel snapped. “And?”

“It’s midnight.”

“Yeah, I got that. AND?”

“It’s midnight!”

Angel flopped into the couch, burying his face into the cushions. “Uuuuuggghhhh, fine, if that’s all I’ll get outta ya.” He turned himself into the Rightful Seated Position, crossed his legs, and sighed. “I guess you’re stayin’ here, you little cockroach.”

“Yay!” Niffty quickly took over Husk’s vacant spot. Speaking of Husk..

“Husk?” Angel called, before wincing at his own volume. Too loud? Too loud. “Husk?” he whispered. He paused, with an idea.

“Heyyyy, Husky? Pspspspsps.”

There was a few seconds of nothing.

“..Huh. ‘Kay, guess that was a stupid idea—”

“Mrrp?” Two large yellow spots stared hungrily at him from about half an inch away from his face.

“Holy SHIT- FUCK- I MEAN— fuck, I’m gonna wake everyone up at this rate,” Angel groaned.

There was a rustling sound, and quick, barely audible pacing pawsteps, only heard because of the click-ing claws meeting the wooden floor.

“Geez, did you drink too much coffee or something?” Angel asked.

“Nothin’. I don’t drink coffee. Just not tired. I could run a fuckin’ marathon right now.”

“So… zoomies?”

“What?” The pawsteps stopped, and Angel could just make out a half-outline of the ex-overlord from the blueish TV light.

“Yeah, zoomies,” Angel decided. “Have fun with that.” 

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Take a wild guess, old man,” Angel said casually. “Anyways, I’mma go watch something now.”

“‘Kay-” Husk broke off, before darting into another room as a blur.

———

Niffty had left Angel alone a few hours go, announcing that she was going to sleep. Knowing her, it would be in a cupboard of dead rats or something.

Judging by the faint light, it was around dawn, 5 or 6 AM? Yep, time to go to bed, Angel decided.

He disentangled himself from a mass of fuzzy blankets, stretched, and started to go upstairs. He really hoped Fat Nuggets wasn’t chewing at the blankets again, he just bought those, but Nuggs would do as he pleased, so Angel just had to pray. Warm, amazing bed, how he missed it—

“Salutations!”

Angel yelped, nearly falling before he grabbed the railing. “HOLY SHIT- Al? The FUCK?”

Alastor’s wide red eyes and smile were the only things clearly visible in the dimness. “I didn’t expect you to be up so early! Might I ask why?”

“I’m goin’ ta bed,” Angel corrected, taking another step up. 

“..At dawn?”

“Yeah, tha’s what I just said, ya smiling sap.”

“Well, I was just surprised! Normally, you’re nearly dead until 10! This really explains a lot.”

“Close your head, will ya? I’m tired,” Angel groaned.

“Why, that’s your own fault, my dear!” Alastor tilted his head, as though saying ‘yes, I know I’m being loud, what are you doing to do about it?’

“Urgh, just shut up,” he pleaded. “I’m just gonna go to bed.”

“Acting is quite a hard job, I’ve heard,” Alastor continued, much to Angel’s dismay. God, he just wanted to sleep.

“Action scenes involve a lot of movement, of course, and it takes energy to reenact the exact same scenes again.. and again.. and again.. I thought you’d be more responsible! Staying up all night and going to bed at dawn? To achieve what, a measly 5 hours of sleep?”

“You’re not my fuckin’ dad,” Angel muttered. “We’re both adults, bitch.”

“I’m not trying to parent you,” Alastor protested. He spat out the word ‘parent’ like it tasted horrible. (Whatever Alastor thought tasted bad, anyway. Angel had seen the dude taste bugs and rotting corpses, he did NOT wanna know what the Radio Demon thought was bad.)
“I’m simply judging you intensely based off of your— frankly terrible— life decisions!” Gee, thanks a lot.

“Yeah, yeah, I fucked up my life, heard it before, I get it.” Angel made his tired way up the stairs, regarding Alastor with annoyance. “Ya done? I got shit to do. Like SLEEP.”

“Hm.” Alastor shrugged, before he melted away in the shadows. Like a fuckin’ ghost.

Angel sighed, before a feline blur of gray, white, and red rushed past him in the hallway and back downstairs, skirting around a corner and disappearing. He’d already been startled so many times tonight, that he barely moved.

He groaned, propping his head against the door.

“Why is everyone here so fuckin’ weird.”