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Today was supposed to be special, an occasion the two of them had been preparing to attend for the past two months.
The morning light bleeding through the curtains, red and blinding. Angel Dust groaned as he yanked the blankets over his head. He’d only been awake for a few seconds, and already his head was pounding as if he’d spent the whole night drinking. As if Alastor had been blasting his radio’s at max volume.
He hissed, clenching his eyes tight as he tried to force himself to go back to sleep to stop this god awful feeling. His throat felt raw, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and every breath he took felt like it was burning in his throat. Almost like he’d swallowed glass shards. Wincing he felt his back and the sheets drenched in cold sweat. His limbs feeling like bricks, heavy, aching bricks.
As he tried to sit up he hissed, barely managing to push himself up before doubling over, breaking into a harsh cough. Hacking harshly into the pillow, only a moment to move before he could feel the nausea in the back of his throat kick in, worsened by the couching. Barely leaning over the bed in time to throw up into the bin, fucking thankful he’d randomly decided to empty it the night before. Wincing as he wiped away the spit with the back of his hand.
A shaky moan slipped past his lips.
Everything was spinning.
And the worst part? Today was important, the event. The one Alastor had been excited for about for weeks, They didn’t even like fancy parties! But this one seemed fun, a social gala full of the biggest overlords, big egos, and big opportunities. Charlie had invited them all, about how it was a good opportunity for promoting the Hotel. Alastor was mainly amused to watch her fail, again. Alastor wanted to show him off, wanted them to go together.
But right now, Angel couldn’t even sit up right.
Not noticing as the door creaked open behind him.
“Well, well!” Alastor’s voice rang from the doorway. “Still in bed? I’ve been up for hours, I thought you would’ve been up by now.” He hummed
Angel jumping at the sound, his already swimming head now pulsing again painfully from the volume. Wincing as he pulled the pillow tighter over his head to block out the sound.
“I ain’t feelin’ so hot,” He rasped, voice hoarse and slurred. “My head’s killin’ me, I think I caught somethin’, I was already feelin’ weird yesterday but-”
“You think you caught something?” Alastor’s tone immediately shifting, to something more sharp, impatient. “How dreadfully convenient.”
Angel flinched, “The fuck that’s supposed to mean?”
Alastor stepping in as he glanced him over, almost in judgment. His coat was pristine, bowtie neatly fixed. He was already dressed for the event. His eyes gleaming even in the dark lighting. “All I mean, isn’t it convenient that you ‘fall ill’ the morning of the most important event of the month? You knew how much I wanted us both there. You knew. But here we are.”
Angel immediately looked panicked, “What- Al, I wouldn’t ditch ya’, I ain’t faking, I swear. I’m seriously-”
“Oh please,” Alastor snapped, eyes narrowing in annoyance, his voice low and dangerous. “You were fine yesterday. You’re just pulling this because you don’t want to mingle. I know you hate these events. Or maybe you think it’s funny to embarrass me, again.”
Angel’s heart dropped into his stomach. “I’m not- Babe, I wouldn’t- I can’t even get outta bed.”
“Try harder,” He turned. “Or just admit you don’t give a damn.”
Angel stared at his back, his vision blurring. Not just from his head swarming, but from the tears he could feel already building in his eyes. The sharp ache in his chest had nothing to do with the illness.
“I said I was sorry,” He whispered.
But Alastor was already walking away, the hell of his shoes clicking against the floor. “Save it,” he said coldly. “Enjoy your little ‘sick day’. I’ll go alone.”
And he did, without another glance, Alastor walked out. Letting the door slam loudly behind him.
Pushing aside the regrets, Alastor had made it to the gala.
And it was dazzling.
The room was sparkling with gold and red lighting. Jazz trilling in the background, filling the entire hall. Waiters shifting as cocktails flowed like fountains, Alastor held court with ease. Smiles were easy to fake. Laughter? Second nature.
But even with the flattery of sinners trying their hardest to seem important and the thrill of the stage, something gnawed at him.
Even though he should’ve been enjoying himself, enjoying this more. He couldn’t stop himself from checking the time, every few minutes like clockwork. Time passing slower with each glance. He kept looking to his side, Angel should have been there. Wearing something dramatic, something sparkly. Snorting at bad jokes, draping himself around Alastor’s shoulders like he always did.
Instead, there was just empty air. And something wasn’t sitting right.
Dragged into conversation with Charlie, pretending to give a damn as she stammered and talked herself into a hole at the overlords who clearly had no care for whatever she was on about, just listening out of the obligation of this being the Princess of Hell.
He’d grabbed far too many of these cocktails by now, losing count after the seventh. Nobody had cut him off though, after all, they were complimentary.
The longer the night wore on, the colder the emptiness he was feeling became. He wasn’t enjoying himself, it was miserable.
Alastor finally slipped away from more lesser demons trying to talk to him, retreating to a quieter spot in the hall, his grin faltering the second no one was watching. Finding himself up against the wall, two drinks he’d snatched wordlessly in his hands, practically snarling without meaning to.
“You look like shit,” Husk muttered, taking a sip of his own drink before glancing Alastor over.
Alastor’s eyes flicked up, sharp and narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” Husk leaned against the wall, wings twitching. “You come waltzing in here like you own the place, but you look like someone kicked your dog.”
The smile returned, a touch too wide. “Nothing of the sort. I’m having a marvelous time.”
“Uh-huh, clearly.” Husk said flatly, unimpressed. Taking another swig from his drink, never breaking eye contact. “So, what’s with you? You keep checking the clock like your date ditched you. But considerin’ I ain’t seeing him anywhere, I’m guessin’ I ain’t far off?”
Alastor’s hand tightened around the glass. Voice dropping, clipped. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Husk shot back, ears flicking. “You’re not fooling anyone, at least not me. Something’s eating you.”
Alastor opened his mouth, then closed it. Letting the silence stretch to avoid speaking. Throwing back both drinks as he threw the glasses over his shoulder, shattering somewhere a few feet behind them.
“I feel… Off. Bad. Over Angel. He wasn’t- …Well, and I-” His voice caught, uncharacteristically unsteady. “I told him I didn’t believe him.”
For once, Husk didn’t have a jab ready. He just stared at him, then sighed, feathers rustling as he adjusted them. He didn’t look disappointed, but Alastor could feel it radiating.
“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Husk said. “That’s guilt, by the way. Welcome to the club. Glancing over to the shattered glasses that were pointedly ignored by every other guest. “Go home. Sitting here and pretending you don’t care while drinking your feelings away isn’t fixing anything.”
Alastor blinked at him, expression unreadable. Husk didn’t flinch, didn’t look away either.
Finally, Alastor stood, straightening his coat. His mark of a smile slipping more naturally into face. Still forced, but thinner this time. “Perhaps you’re right.”
“Damn straight I am,” Husk grumbled. “Now get outta here before you make me feel sorry for you.”
He left before the final toast. Didn’t say goodbye to anyone.
It was late by the time he arrived back, far later than he wanted to be back by. The hallways of the Hotel, dead quiet. The silence having a weight to it.
He felt nervous. He felt guilty.
He felt bad.
The door still shut from where he’d slammed it, not sure if Angel had actually left the room or not. There was no light on peaking out from under the door, no obnoxious pink LED’s that Angel always insisted on turning on, there was just nothing.
He didn’t call out, he didn’t have to.
The first sound he heard was a wet, crackling cough. A shaky gasp and sob between it, followed by another harsh round of crackling. The sound of liquid hitting the bin.
Alastor froze.
It came again, the desperate muffled sobs. Even through the door, as quiet as it was, Alastor could hear it clear as day. Angel’s voice, hoarse and broken. Like he’d been crying for hours. Alastor slowly put his hand on the door.
The second it opened he felt his chest tighten.
Angel was curled up on the far end of the bed, shivering violently under the blankets. His clothes hadn’t been changed, the same pyjamas from that morning, from when he’d stormed out. Even in the dark he could see the way he was shivering.
The sight was awful, the room reeked of sickness. Not just of vomit, but illness, sweat, fever. The bin almost half full. Angel sniffling with quiet sobs. Alastors heart panging immediately.
Angel hadn’t even noticed he’d come in.
As Alastor gently brightened the lights Angel glanced up terrified. Alastor felt horrible, Angel’s eyes were red, he’d had no clue how long Angel had been crying. Angel sniffling with bitten back sob as he pushed himself up shakily.
“You’re- Early, sorry. Fuck, I didn’t think you’d- I didn’t want you to see me all shitty, I promise I’m not doin’ this ta’ be dramatic or nothin’ I swear.” He sniffled, face flushed with fever and embarrassment, not looking at Alastor out of sheer shame.
Alastor took a step closer, “Angel.”
Angel pushed himself back, sitting up straighter despite the shivering, “I’m sorry. I promise this ain’t ta’ get pity, I’m not fakin, I swear.” He repeated.
“Stop apologizing,” Alastor said quickly, “I know.” Moving fast across the room in front of him, holding Angel’s face in his hands as he looked him over. “You’re burning, why didn’t you think to call me?”
Angel’s breath hitched, almost panicked, like he was scared. Alastor hated it. “I didn’t- Wanna bother you, you seemed so mad-”
Alastor gritted his teeth, reaching out as he placed his cold hands on Angel’s forehead, hoping that would cool him slightly. The heat was alarming. “Oh, dear. No wonder you couldn’t get out of bed…”
“I promise I ain’t,” Angel whispered, tears slipping down his cheeks again. “Tried to keep some water down, didn’t work. I didn’t wanna call and everyone was at that- Stupid event so I couldn’t ask for- Ugh, I just figured you’d still be mad…”
“I was wrong,” Alastor said immediately, voice quiet now, guilt laced through every word. “So terribly wrong. I thought… I assumed the worst of you, meanwhile you were suffering the whole time.”
Angel just cried harder, chest hitching with every breath. “I didn’t mean to miss it, I didn’t, I just- My head hurts so fuckin’ bad, I wouldn’t lie about this, I promise-”
“I know,” Alastor assured again. “Shh. I know. I believe you. I should have believed you from the start.”
Angel hiccupped and pressed his body into Alastor’s chest, letting himself slump against him as Alastor wrapped his arms around him. He just wanted comfort, to hold onto him. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
Alastor stroked his hair back gently, feeling the sweat soaked into it. “You didn’t. Not really. I let my pride get the better of me. I thought you were dismissing something that mattered to me. But instead, I dismissed you. And I will never forgive myself for that."
Angel’s shaking started to slow just a little.
“C’mere,” Alastor whispered, scooping him up despite the sweat, the tears, the overwhelming heat. “You’re not sleeping alone tonight. And certainly not on that couch you’ve been eyeing.”
Angel blinked at him. “But I-I don’t wanna get you sick-”
“I’m already sick with guilt.” Alastor said bitterly. “And if I’m to fall ill, then so be it. I’m staying right here.”
He pulled Angel into bed properly, tucking the covers around him. Then rose briefly, leaving the room only to grab a fresh towel, a cool compress and a bottle of water. The single glass Angel had been drinking from long gone, leaving him with no idea how many hours it’d been since his last drink.
Angel gagged slightly at the sight of the water, but Alastor gently coaxed him to sip anyway, rubbing his back the entire time, even when Angel threw it back up minutes later into the bin.
Alastor cleaned it without complaint. Quiet. Focused. Regretful.
When he finally sat beside Angel again, he stayed still, one arm behind the spider demon’s back, keeping him upright, warm and close. Angel leaned heavily against him, exhausted from the fever and all the crying.
“I missed you,” Angel whispered, voice raw. “Even though I was sleepin’ half the time. I kept thinkin’ how much I missed you. That- Ya weren’t gonna come back, It’s stupid, I felt like I was fakin’, ya’ know? Thinkin’ ‘What if he really hates me this time?’ God, I’m an idiot.”
“You’re nothing of the sort, and I don’t hate you,” Alastor said instantly, voice sharp with defense and worry. “I love you, Angel. I was cruel. I thought you were avoiding me, but I was really avoiding the truth.”
Angel blinked blearily at him. “Ya still love me, even after all this?”
Alastor let out a soft chuckle, even as his eyes welled. “Of course I do. Even if I have the worst way of showing it sometimes.”
Angel leaned in more, weakly nuzzling under Alastor’s chin. “I love you too.”
They stayed like that, warm and quiet, with only the soft static of the radio in the background.
“I think I’m gonna puke again,” Angel mumbled.
“I’m here.” Shifting to grab the bin.
Angel laughed faintly through the exhaustion, shaking his head. “You really ain’t lettin’ me sleep on the couch?”
“You sleep in my arms,” Alastor said firmly. “No arguments.”
“Perfect.” Angel mumbled, finally relaxing fully against him as his eyes fluttered closed. Asleep within minutes.