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“I FELL IN LOVE WITH LOVE, WITH LOVE, WITH LOVE EVERLASTING!” Angel dances around his room, his hairbrush clutched in one of his upper hands as a makeshift microphone. His door is wide open, and the other occupants of the hotel hear everything from him loud and clear.
Angel, on his part, doesn’t care. He likes the attention. Plus, he’s not technically doing anything wrong. He’s just enjoying himself, singing in his room by himself. And for the most part, everyone else doesn’t care enough to tell him to stop. Well, almost everyone.
“Angel.” A filtered, and annoyed, voice comes from the doorway. Angel pauses the music and turns towards Alastor. He’s standing at the threshold of Angel’s room, like stepping in would corrupt him. “Please cease this behavior.”
“Why?” Angel asks, his hairbrush dangling by his side now that he’s no longer singing.
“Because it is distracting me and the other members of the hotel.”
Angel pretends to think about it before slowly leaning over, a mischievous smile growing on his lips, and casually pressing the ‘play’ button. A new song bursts from the speakers, the base vibrating the walls. “I still hear your voice,” Angel sings along, staring at Alastor through his eyelashes, his smile never wavering. “Tryna rip my world to pieces.”
Alastor’s jaw clenches in a futile attempt to calm himself down. “Angel.” He repeats, eye twitching.
Angel ignores him, the chorus of the song giving him the incentive to start sing-screaming. “I HOPE YOU NEVER FALL IN LOVE AGAIN! I HOPE YOU BE YOURSELF AND LOSE YOUR FRIENDS! I HOPE THEY CALL YOU OUT FOR THE SHIT YOU SAID! I HOPE YOU’RE MISERABLE UNTIL YOU’RE DEAD!”
Alastor sighs, snapping his fingers. In a second, the song is silenced and Angel’s voice tapers off. “What the hell, man?!”
“I asked you politely to stop, but you didn’t, so I did it myself,” Alastor says, seeming very pleased with himself.
Angel, pouting, leans over again and turns the music back on. Alastor turns it off again. They do this back and forth for almost a full five minutes before Vaggie comes up to the door. “Will you cut it out?!”
“I told him t-“ Alastor starts, cut off by Vaggie.
“You turning it off and on is more annoying than the loud music.” She groans, glaring at him.
“I was helping.”
“You were making it worse.”
They stand there and glare at each other. The tension is suddenly broken by Angel’s music turning on, yet again. Alastor’s eye twitches again, his head slowly turning to see Angel singing along to the song, completely ignoring the two demons at his door.
Alastor lifts his hand to turn the music off again before thinking of a better idea. He closes his eyes momentarily, reciting the proper words for the spell under his breath before snapping his fingers again. On the outside, nothing seemed to happen, but Alastor felt the rush of magic work through him, letting him know it worked. He opens his eyes just in time to see Angel’s stereo short circuit.
‘Am I o-o-o-ut of my h-h-h-head, am I-I-I-I-I-I’ It stutters out a line from the song before dying completely.
“Aw, man.” Angel hits the stereo lightly, annoyed when nothing happens.
“Oh no,” Alastor’s smile widens. “How unlucky.”
Vaggie shoots him a suspicious look before deciding she doesn’t care enough to get involved and walking back downstairs. Angel turns to look at Alastor, eyes narrowing at him. Before he can say anything, Alastor escapes through the shadows.
Turns out, the broken stereo wasn’t the only bad luck Angel had. Throughout the next week, he had many unfortunate instances that usually ended with him being hurt. He was walking down the stairs in brand-new shoes when the heels broke. He burned his lunch, and almost the whole hotel with it. His client ended up not paying after a four-hour session. And many more things like that.
So by the end of the week, Angel is bruised, annoyed, and confused. “What the fuck is going on?” He mutters, pulling the drink Husk made him towards his chest.
“Has it ever occurred to you that Alastor did something?” Husk points out, leaning against the counter. “He did seem pretty pissed with your music the other night.”
“Yeah but followin’ me around to fuck up my life ain’t his style.”
“No,” Husk agrees before considering something else. “But, a bad luck spell certainly is.”
“That’s a thing?” Angel asks, picking up his drink only to promptly spill it on his lap. “Aw, come on...”
“Apparently.” Husk shrugs, tossing Angel a clean rag. “I think it basically messes with natural Karma, tippin’ the cosmic scales out of your favor.”
Angel pats down the front of his suit, thinking. “So you’re sayin’ that my already shitty luck is worse?!”
“Guess so.”
“Fuck.” Angel continues patting himself dry before tossing the rag back to Husk who catches it and throws it into the dirty laundry. “Okay, how long is it gonna last?”
“Until he thinks you’ve learned your lesson I’m guessing.”
“So forever?”
Husk shrugs again, re-making Angel’s drink for him. As he slides it over, Angel automatically moves out of the way just as the drink slides off the counter. They both watch it shatter on the ground. “How’d you know it was gonna do that?” Husk asks. In his many years of bartending and things of that sort, he’s never slid a drink off the counter. So there’s no way Angel could’ve seen it coming.
“I didn’t,” Angel explains, eyes following Nifty as she speedily cleans up the mess and zooms away. “I figured that since my luck is all fucked, nothing is gonna go my way. So, that drink woulda ended up on me.”
“Wow Legs. You’re actually smart.” Husk praises, sounding only a little condescending.
“Wow. Thanks.” Angel deadpans.
“Nah, but seriously, if you pay attention, you could work around this.” Husk and Angel smile at each other, excited for a whole new array of possibilities for fun.
Alastor has been having far too much fun watching Angel’s afterlife implode around him. The ill fortune spell worked better than expected, torturing the spider in ways that no one really noticed. It just looked like he was a bit clumsier than usual. Angel walks down into the parlor, drawing Alastor’s attention away from the newspaper. Ever since he cursed Angel, he’s been watching him at every chance just to see what will happen.
Angel grabs the coffee pot with one hand, grabbing a mug with the other. Alastor watches the mug slip out of his upper hand with a smile only to be shocked when he catches it with a lower one. Impressive. Alastor muses, setting the newspaper down. Angel pours the coffee over the sink, so when it splashes over, it doesn’t go anywhere. Alastor narrows his eyes in suspicion at the other demon.
Humming, Angel places his mug down and pops three pieces of bread in the toaster. Alastor fully expects the toaster to catch fire, the toast to come out burnt, or even the whole Hotel to lose power. What he wasn’t expecting was Angel to cancel the cooking halfway through, the toast coming out perfectly cooked. What the hell? Alastor watches him butter two of the pieces, confused about why the spider made three only for the un-buttered one to fall on the ground. Angel doesn’t even blink, just watches Nifty clean it up and run off.
He sits across from Alastor and crunches happily on his toast, scrolling on his phone. He pauses to look up at the deer who is staring at him with his mouth open. “What?” Angel asks, taking another bite of toast.
“How did you do that?” Alastor asks, gesturing vaguely to the kitchen.
“How did I make toast…?” Angel smirks, tilting his head at Alastor like a curious puppy. “I know you don’t know shit ‘bout technology but shit man.”
“No,” Alastor growls. “How did you know everything was going to happen before it did?”
“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” Angel shrugs, eyes sliding back over to his phone. Alastor stands up, snatches the newspaper, and stalks off. Angel smiles slightly as he leaves, taking another bite of toast.
A few days later, days filled with Alastor watching Angel perfectly avoid almost every single bad thing effectively or even working it in his favor, Alastor walks up to Angel as he’s leaving for work.
“Heya Bambi.” Angel smiles at him, gold tooth flashing in the light.
“Don’t call me that.” Alastor scolds.
Angel rolls his eyes, locking his bedroom door and turning the knob four times to make sure it’s locked. He starts walking downstairs and Alastor follows him. “Sorry Alastor, what’s up?”
“I’ve broken the ill-fortune curse,” Alastor informs him. Truthfully, he broke it because, at this point, Angel was having too much fun with it for it to be any kind of punishment.
“What curse?” Angel asks, pulling out a pocket-sized mirror from his chest fluff.
“The ‘bad luck’ curse I put on you a few weeks ago.” Alastor elaborates.
Angel pauses, looking over at Alastor with eyes filled with hurt. “You cursed me?”
“Yes? I thought you knew.”
Angel frowns and a pang of something resonates through Alastor’s chest. “Oh. No. I didn’t. Why’d ya curse me?”
“Because you’re disrespectful.”
Angel seems to wince at the insult, more of something pinging around Alastor’s chest like a pinball machine. “Aw, I’m sorry Smiles. Just tryna have a little fun. Didn’t mean to make ya so mad you’d curse me.”
There’s a few minutes of slightly uncomfortable silence before Alastor speaks up. “I’m sorry that I cursed you.” Angel looks up at him in surprise. And Alastor is just as surprised. He wasn’t planning on apologizing. He cursed Angel to teach him a lesson. And yet, here they are.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Angel’s innocent, confused, and surprised look quickly morphs into a mischievous smile. “I knew you liked me.”
“What?” Angel’s abrupt change in mood is enough to give Alastor whiplash.
“Ya wouldn’t have cursed me if ya didn’t care. That’s why I figured out how to get ya to break it.” Angel fixes up his makeup before pocketing the mirror. “I forgive ya Bambi, can’t stay mad at someone that cute. See ya.” Angel winks at him and struts out the door.
Alastor stands in the lobby, staring at the door blankly, a whole different something careening around his chest now.