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The heavy, pulsing hum of Hell was constant, but today it felt more like a distant echo. Valentino’s penthouse was unusually quiet, the sound of muffled voices from his office filtering through the walls, but no longer as piercing as they usually were. He glanced down at the small, shivering form in his arms, his heart softening as he stroked Angel Dust's silky hair.
Angel, usually full of life and sass, had regressed to the tender age of two that morning, and he wasn’t feeling like his usual self. He felt warm to the touch, his skin flushed with fever. His little body curled into Val’s embrace as he lay on the couch, his pacifier nestled in his mouth. Angel’s big, glassy eyes looked up at Valentino with a soft, pitiful gaze, full of exhaustion and discomfort.
"Hey, sugar," Valentino murmured, his voice soft but deep, a rare tenderness seeping into his words. "How you feelin', baby?"
Angel’s tiny hand weakly gripped Val’s shirt, his face scrunching up as if to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. "Tired, Daddy... 'N my tummy hurts," he mumbled, his voice soft and whiny, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.
Valentino frowned, his wings instinctively curling around Angel’s small form as he pulled him closer, holding him like the precious, fragile thing he was. "I know, sweetheart. You’re not feelin' too hot, huh?"
Angel nodded, his tiny body trembling. Valentino could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it sent a wave of concern through him that he couldn’t quite shake. He wasn’t sure what was wrong—Angel didn’t get sick often—but when he did, it was always worse than expected. The regressed state only added to his vulnerability.
"Let’s get you some water, baby," Valentino said, keeping his voice gentle. He carefully eased Angel into his arms and stood, his wings unfurling to steady him as he walked over to the kitchen.
Angel didn’t resist, but his body was limp in Valentino’s hold, his pacifier still in his mouth. His soft whimpers filled the space as Valentino set him down on a cushioned chair by the kitchen table. The large moth demon filled a glass with water and gently brought it to Angel’s lips.
"Drink, sugar," he urged, guiding the cup carefully to Angel’s mouth. "You gotta stay hydrated."
Angel made a face but took a sip, his small hands weakly gripping the glass. His tiny frame shook with every movement, but he obediently drank, the water helping to cool him down, though not enough to erase the fever that still clung to his skin.
Valentino kept his gaze soft and focused on Angel, noting the way his little chest rose and fell unevenly. "There we go. Now, how about some crackers, huh? Gotta make sure that tummy of yours settles."
Angel let out a small whine and shook his head, clearly too tired to argue. "Don’ want food, Daddy... tummy hurts..." His voice trailed off, and his hand reached out weakly for his favorite plush rabbit, the one he always clung to when he felt sick or scared.
Valentino’s heart swelled with an overwhelming need to protect the little spider demon. "I know, baby," he said, brushing a hand through Angel’s damp hair. "But we need to get you better. You want your Bun-Bun with you while we eat?"
Angel nodded weakly, and Val gently picked up the plush bunny from the nearby couch, placing it in Angel’s small arms. The stuffed rabbit, worn from years of use, was a constant comfort to the regressed Angel. He hugged it tightly to his chest, the plush offering him a sense of security in the midst of his discomfort.
"Good boy," Valentino murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Angel’s head. "Now, let’s try to get a little food in you, alright?"
With a bit of coaxing, Angel managed to nibble on a few crackers, though it was clear that he wasn’t interested in much. Valentino watched carefully, making sure Angel didn’t choke or become more uncomfortable. The few bites were enough, for now.
"Good job, baby," Val praised, gently rubbing Angel’s back as the little one laid his head back against the soft cushion of the chair. His tiny body trembled with weakness, but his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the pacifier bobbing gently in his mouth.
Valentino took a seat next to him, still keeping his wings close around the small spider demon as if to protect him from the outside world.
"I’m gonna make sure no one bothers us, alright?" Valentino said softly, his voice firm but loving. "No Vox, no Velvette, nobody. Just you and me, sugar. We’ll get through this together."
Angel gave a small, contented hum, clearly reassured by the promise. His little hands clutched his plushie tighter, the pacifier still in his mouth as he curled into the warmth of Valentino’s embrace.
The room was silent except for the occasional sound of Angel’s soft whimpers and the distant hum of Hell’s chaos beyond the walls. But Valentino was determined to make sure Angel didn’t have to face it.
As the day wore on, Valentino continued to take care of his little one. He kept Angel hydrated, offering him more water when he needed it, and made sure to keep his food light—more crackers and broth, whatever Angel could handle. When Angel grew too tired to eat, Valentino didn’t force him. He simply held him close, whispering sweet reassurances and gently stroking his hair.
At one point, Angel's tiny stomach betrayed him. He sat up suddenly, his face pale and his eyes wide with panic. "Daddy..." he gasped, the words barely escaping before he threw up, his small body convulsing with the effort.
Valentino was quick to react. His wings shot out, cushioning Angel’s body and shielding him from the mess. He gathered the little one into his arms, his heart aching as he rubbed Angel’s back soothingly. "Shh, it’s alright, baby. It’s alright," he cooed, his voice soft and comforting.
Angel cried, his tiny body trembling in Valentino’s arms. "Sorry, Daddy," he whimpered, his voice weak and full of shame.
Valentino immediately kissed his forehead, his heart breaking at the sight of Angel’s distress. "There’s nothing to be sorry about, sugar. You’re sick, okay? It happens. You don’t have to be sorry. Daddy’s here, and I’m gonna take care of you, just like always."
He wiped Angel’s face with a soft cloth, his touch gentle as he tried to ease the little one’s discomfort. "Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?" he said softly, carrying Angel over to the bathroom.
Once Angel was cleaned and comfortable once more, Valentino tucked him back into his seat, wrapping his wings around him like a protective cocoon. He made sure the plush rabbit was back in Angel’s arms and the pacifier was once again nestled between his tiny lips.
Valentino took a deep breath, settling beside Angel on the couch once more. He didn’t mind the extra work—it was nothing compared to the care and love he felt for the little spider demon in his arms. His patience was limitless when it came to Angel, especially when the little one needed him the most.
As the evening drew closer, Angel’s fever finally started to break. He drifted in and out of sleep, occasionally waking to look up at Valentino with bleary eyes, seeking comfort. Valentino stayed by his side, his wings wrapped protectively around the small form, whispering soft words of reassurance whenever Angel stirred.
"You’re doing so good, baby," Valentino murmured, his hand brushing over Angel’s back. "Daddy’s proud of you."
Angel’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, his little body curled against Valentino’s chest. "Love you, Daddy," he whispered, his voice barely there.
Valentino’s heart swelled with a tenderness he rarely showed. "Love you too, sugarplum," he replied, his voice full of emotion. "You mean the world to me."
With that, Angel’s eyes fluttered shut once more, his breathing steadying as he finally found the comfort and safety he so desperately needed.
Valentino stayed there with him, watching over his little one as the night wore on. The chaos of Hell could wait—nothing mattered more than making sure Angel was alright. And in this moment, with the warmth of his wings around the tiny form, Valentino knew he’d do whatever it took to make sure Angel always felt safe and loved.
Because for all his power and control, there was nothing more important than this—taking care of his little boy.