Work Text:
The clock in the hotel lobby struck twelve, announcing with a light, cheery chiming that a new day had begun.
A cheeriness that did not extend to the sole resident downstairs.
The lone princess of Hell, Charlie, sighed at the sound while leaning back into the couch. It was just another frustrating reminder of how long she’d been working. She’d already been encouraged by Vaggie to come to bed a few hours prior, encouragement she’d regrettably ignored. Her eyes had been drooping from exhaustion for a good while.
But she had persisted.
She had to.
Since the hotel had been rebuilt, she’d been obsessing over the functioning of the building as new interest in her project washed over Hell in wake of Heaven’s defeat. New tenants and activities came with new problems and issues.
New tenants and issues that she would deal with. She couldn't allow otherwise.
All the while, nervousness ate away at her. She knew not what Heaven’s response would be beyond its current silence, nor how, or if, her ideas of rehabilitation and redemption were at all feasible without the seraphim willing to listen.
And… the loss of Sir Pentious, along with so many others in the fighting, weighed her down. She had been assured over and over by all at the hotel that they hadn’t been hers alone to save or protect; that she wasn’t to blame.
But she couldn’t help herself. They had fought under her banner, for her cause, and they had died for it; for her.
So she dug into her work, as if doing so was doing right by those who had been lost. Her friends had, of course, expressed concern over her health, but she was determined.
She only wished she could keep her eyes open in order to keep working.
As if her own thoughts were acknowledged by the world in some twisted fashion, she noticed a sputtering black and green shape in the corner of her eye. She chuckled softly as it gave way to red on the chair to her right.
“You should be asleep, sweetheart," it said quietly.
She shook her head in response, but leaned back to look at Alastor as he took full corporeal form.
He looked the same as always. A wide, yellow grin in place, accentuated by big, red, luminous eyes as he rested his chin on his hands, elbows in turn propped against the table.
He had been a bit different since the failed extermination too, though. After he had come back to the hotel, he had been a touch more distant than beforehand, not sitting casually with the main group as much. Conversely, he had been more involved in the actual operations of the hotel, more determinedly than he had taken his duties prior to the battle. Charlie had seen plenty of him as a result, just more so when the two were alone.
Which is why she hadn’t found it too surprising that he’d chosen to come speak with her just then.
“Can’t. Too much to do,” she said while suppressing a yawn.
“You always give yourself so many responsibilities, Charlie. You could delegate, assign, let someone else handle these things and get some rest,” he stated half seriously, his widening grin demonstrating that he clearly didn’t expect her to heed his advice.
As much as she wanted to prove him wrong sometimes, she knew he was right.
In that she wouldn’t give in, of course.
“This is my work, so I will do it. You, dad and Vaggie already do so much. I’ve got to pull my weight,” she stated, blinking slowly as she moved to pick up another one of her papers to raise it to eye level. It was another application form, filled with what looked like serious attempts at filling in the listed questions but also many, many insults and swears, making it hard to just dismiss and throw out but also a slog to read through.
Not that it mattered, because a claw swiped it out of her hand, revealing Alastor was now laying atop the table right in front of her, his grin sharp and thin. She barely had the energy to even startle at the sight, only sighing once more as she pressed her face into her palms.
"This work needs to be finished by tomorrow morning, Al. I've got to have everything sorted out so I know to call the people who genuinely want to come here! People will think they're being ignored otherwise, and then they might stop caring about joining with the hotel," she whined, making a fairly pathetic attempt to grab the paper back. This, of course, had little impact on Alastor's intent, but did inspire a change in approach.
"Oh my poor, sweet Charlotte. You really are in a mess, aren't you?" he asked in a softer, calming tone while reaching out and gently pinching Charlie's cheek between two fingers. His eyes hadn't changed at all, still staring deeply into her ominously; Charlie was too tired to notice, and the feeling of being soothed both verbally and physically made her exhale and relax into his little hold.
Alastor's smile widened slightly at something about the sight of her following his hand.
"Well why don't you let me help?", he offered as kind a tone as he could synthesise.
As Charlie processed the idea and opened her mouth to protest, Al's hand came to press lightly against her lips. He chuckled as she blushed and looked to him for what else he wanted to say. He continued.
"I know, I know. It's your work. I won't argue that. But surely I'm allowed to help you do your work?"
At Charlie's blank, confused stare in response, he corrected his wording to dissuade any misinterpretations (or any unwanted, overly correct interpretations) of his words. "Boost your morale! I can be your support. That is ultimately my job, after all," he said with a flutter of his eyes while lowering his hand to pat her cheek before retreating to let her answer.
The princess eyed him, not suspiciously but certainly with some scrutiny. "What exactly would you be getting out of it? No offense, Al, but I don't wanna get into another deal where I owe you a favor. I trust you! Of course I do! But… you know," she said with a mix of forced assuredness and reluctant dismissive-ness (an interesting combination if Alastor had ever heard one! She did fascinate him sometimes.)
"I understand, dear. Of course I do!", he chuckled out as he enjoyed parroting her words back at her, to which she narrowed her eyes but softened her smile. "Here's my idea, hmm? I use my magic to keep your body moving. If we manage it correctly, it'll be almost as if your body knows what to do independent of whether you're awake or asleep," he spoke quickly and lightly, chattering as if it were any typical offer.
Charlie, conversely, had the more reasonable reaction of widening her eyes and gaping at the redhead. "Wait, hold up! You… would use magic… to move my body?", she asked incredulously.
Alastor immediately took to dissuading her fear in the most efficient way he knew how: acting casual. Act like it meant nothing at all. He relaxed with his back on the table, looking up at the ceiling with a soft grin, his hands gesticulating in a playfully dismissive manner. "It's, basically, just a clever little spell I learned that makes the body keep acting on inertia; behavioural inertia, that is. I wouldn't be picking your limp wrists up in my hands and using said hands to scribble things onto paper, dear! Imagine your body just… carrying on, while you sleep. You just keep moving, doing paperwork, as you normally would… while you sleep. Just an idea! Thought I'd throw it out there, is all," he said passively, with as kind and disinterested a voice he could manufacture.
Much to his undisplayed delight, Charlie did appear to calm as he guided her back down to a place of discussion and civil conversation from her (fairly justified) bout of paranoia about his idea, sighing and smiling weakly at Al before glancing at her stack of papers with tired disdain.
"What… exactly would you be getting out of it?", she asked. It wasn't with any fear attached. She knew what he was like by now, what he tended to ask for or how he'd evade her questions. There was no use in mincing her words or indicating that she didn't trust him when she could just hear him out and refuse him when he was uncooperative or unreasonable.
The Radio Demon, once again up to bat in this conversation, decided to reveal his trump card in this whole interaction.
"I want nothing but to help you, Charlie. Honest! Oh I'm sure I'd find some entertainment in watching your napping form continue to do monotonous work! It simply sounds humorous! But truly, sweetheart, I want nothing but to help you," he said softly.
He didn't even have to try for some false sincerity in his tone. It was plentiful on its own, because he had meant it.
Every single word.
Charlie was skeptical, obviously, but even she could sense, and was surprised by, the utter lack of sarcasm or patently false kindness in his voice. Plus, it's not like he could violate the terms of an agreement once bound by it. She could just be specific about what he was and wasn't allowed to do should the arrangement go ahead. After another glance at her red-clad companion, she lifted her hand. It glowed white dimly, catching Al's attention instantly. He looked at her hand, his own eyes brightening in turn, before he looked to her face to learn exactly what she was expecting.
"You, uh, do your spell… thing and let me sleep while doing my work. You can watch over me, but you won't touch any part of me other than to adjust me if I slouch and almost fall off my chair or something," she stated firmly but unsurely. She didn't know exactly how to say 'don't touch me sexually, even though I know you wouldn't, but do take care of me, please?' concisely and without giving the wrong idea to Al, but her wording seemed… about fine, if vague. She was too tired to really think it through.
Alastor looked at her, eyes twitching as he made sure she was committed to the agreement.
She appeared to be, and so he reached his hand out and took hers, the white light being joined by a bright green. There was no rush of energy or changing forms for the two like there had been when they had last made a deal. Just something of a mutual acknowledgment deep in their souls. Whether it was comforting or eerie how calm this felt in comparison to their last agreement, Charlie couldn't decide.
Nor did she want to.
She just wanted to sleep.
So she watched, quietly but anxiously, as her friend silently conjured a spell, forming an array of floating shapes and symbols. With one final glance from Alastor, he blew it from the air like dust into her face. Her exhaustion, which had been staved off by the intrigue of the conversation, came back with a vengeance, causing her eyes to shut and mind to quickly shut down. She remained sitting up straight, though, with her hands tensing meaninglessly against the table.
Alastor craned his neck to look at her from several angles, looking out for every slight movement she made, until her head lifted and eyes opened, revealing dull, lifeless irises with contrasting green rings circling them. She sprung to life… or, rather, she stuttered to a mechanical rhythm. Her hands began to move with purpose once again, picking up papers and raising them to her face, just as she had been doing earlier.
Her eyes may have seen the details, but her mind didn't. She did not think, nor consider, nor hope for the best for the soul she was considering an application for. She slept, and her body simply took in the information, and marked it accordingly with a red pen before picking up the next paper.
The Radio Demon, as promised, just… watched his new toy run on magical clockwork. He had known it would work, of course, but was still able to find some novelty in seeing his coworker, usually on some extreme end of any emotional axis one could think of, staring blankly and moving so smoothly.
His eyes lingered on her own, however. As he leaned forward, he made use of the language Charlie had stated and made the simple motion to cup her chin to raise her head. It could have been to make sure she was sitting comfortably, certainly; but he was playing semantics there.
Her eyes fascinated him, is all. The only justification he had was that, when he looked into her big, wide eyes, she could see a crystal clear reflection of himself in them, along with a bright green ring locking her pupils into facing him.
He couldn't say he really saw much of himself in Charlie.
No, she was far too genuinely sweet and kind and trusting.
But… what potential.
"What potential indeed," he said with a fondness and possessiveness he could barely keep out of his voice now that no one was listening. He smoothed her cheek as he reached to pat her head, chuckling as she bobbed gently against the slight force.
"How much else could I do for you, for your time, I wonder."
He hummed a soft tune as he twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers, still allowing her dead eyes room to look at her work as it came and went.
"Don't worry, Charlie."
His grin widened a degree as he watched her unconscious form still smile through the haze of magic and slumber, as if she was soothed by his voice in dreamland.
"I'll take such good care of you," he whispered.