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Angel Dust had been looking forward to tonight all week. A rare day off, one chance to just sit back and relax without Val pissing him off with texts every two seconds. Reserved for the perfect date night with his husband, no distractions, no interruptions. It was supposed to be perfect.
He'd spent time picking the outfit, indecisive as always but finally settling on one. A silky red number with stockings and glitter heels that would make Alastor raise his eyebrows in that particular way, the one that meant he was impressed but was trying oh so hard not to be.
By late afternoon the date was approaching, and soon. Angel wasn't stranding infront of the mirror like he'd usually be, nor getting all dolled up. He was currently laying flat on his bed, curled around a pillow and staring a hole into the ceiling like it had personally wronged him. His stomach cramping in ugly, rolling waves. No matter how many times he shifted, fidgited and moved around the bed, he couldn't find a position that didn't make it worse.
"Ughhh," He groaned, clutching at his stomach. His lower back aching, fuck. Everything ached, his thighs ached, hell, even his eyeballs felt sore. Bressing the heel of his hand against his abdomen with a forceful pressure, trying to soothe the cramping, only for it to pulse harder.
Of course it had to be today. The universe had a sick sense of humor.
Burrying his face into the pillow, he muffled another groan. He'd been fine this morning! A little tired, sure. But nothing was unusual.
By lunchtime? It finally hit, the ache creeping in like a knife twisting deeper and deeper, the pain getting worse the mroe time past. And right now? It felt like someone was wringing his insides out like a wet towel.
The door creaked open, the sound followed by a cheerful hum. Alastor's voice cheerfuly mused, sickeningly too happy for how bad Angel felt right now. Alastor's head poking in,
"Angel?" Grinning sharp and bright. "It's nearly time to get ready! Honestly, I thought I'd find you-" He stopped when his eyes finally landed on the bed, Angel not moving.
Alastor stepped inshide, tilting his head as he closed the door behind him. "Now, now, that wasn't the glamorous sight I was expecting. Where's my radiant husband?"
Angel dragged his face out of the pillow, looking about as radiant as a drowned rat. His eyeliner was smudged from running his eyes, and the watering when each cramp hit. His hair was rather flat now from being smushed against the pillow and his face was stuck in a miserable pout.
"I don't-" His voice cracked, as he cleared his throat. "I don't think I can go, Al. I'm not feelin' so good."
The grin softened in an instant, Alastor's eyes scannin in concern. Crossing the room as he crouched at Angel's bedside. "Not feeling good? What's the matter, my dear? You aren't dying of some dreaful illness, are you?"
Angel shook his head weakly, "Nah… It's not that. It's-" He hesitated, biting down on his lip. Even after years together, being married, it was still hard to admit sometimes. He shifted uncomfortably and muttered. "My periods really bad."
Alastor blinked, then tilted his head again like he was catalouging the information in his brain. "Ah, the montly misery." Glancing to the callender, a red bit of writing circled that just said 'HELL', underlined four times. That explained it. He didn't say it mockingly, just more-so of a matter of fact.
His hand came to rest against Angel's face, thumb stroking his cheek gently. "So I take it as cramps, then?"
Angel nodded, eyes squeezing shut. "Bad ones. Real fuckin' bad. I just don't think I can… Y'know. Do tonight."
He half expected Alastor to tease him, or perhaps even get annoyed. A look of dissapointment at the idea of the date being ruined. But no, it surprised him. Alastor's grin softened at the edges, something less sharp, more genuine.
"My darling," Alastor began, voice low and full of reassurement. "Our evening is hardly more important than your well-being. You don't need to apologise."
Angel's chest tightened with relief, though another cramp made him curl in on himself tighter. "Hurts," he admitted, his voice cracking.
Alastor's brows knitted in sympathy, "Then let's see what can be done about that then, hmm?" Standing briskly as he adjusted his waistcoat. "Wait here"
Angel let out a breathy laugh despite himself. "Like I'm goin' anywhere…"
A few minutes later, Alastor returning. Carrying a hot water bottle wrapped in a towel, pressing it gently against Angel's abdoment. The warmth spreading quickly as Angel sighed, his body relaxing just a fraction.
"Ohhh… That's good," He muttered, his eyes fluttering shut.
Alastor smoothing his hair back. "I take it that's better?"
"A little. Yeah."
"Excellent." Alastor sat on the edge of the bed, long fingers still stroking over Angel's hair. "I'll prepare some tea for you as well. Something soothing. Perhaphs ginger… Or peppermint. And a bit of chocolate, I think- it always seems to help, yes?"
Angel cracked one eye open, a tired smile tugging at his lips. "You spoil me, baby."
"As is my duty." Alastor tapping his nose lightly. "You are my husband, Angel. And if you are unwell, then the evening will be spent ensuring your comfort. No need to be running ourselves exhausted in towl. I assure you, I'm not dissapointed in the slightest."
Angel shifted closer, pressing his face against Alastor's side in relaxation. "Ya mean it?" He mumbled, muffled by the fabric of his vest.
Alastor's hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, rubbing in slow circles. "I mean it entirely. I'd much rather spend tonight here, tending to you, than leave you in misery."
Angel swallowed hard. It was still such a strange feeling, to have someone who actually meant what they said when it came to caring for him. No ulterior motives, no judgment. Just warmth.
"You're too good to me," Angel whispered, clutching the hot water bottle closer.
"Impossible," Alastor replied smoothly.
The next hour was quiet. Alastor returning with tea like promised, steeped perfectly, a bit of honey swirled in and a bar of chocolate on the tray. Sitting besides Angel the whole time, reading aloud snippets from the paper in a tone engaging enough to distract him from the pain. Whenever a particularly cramp made Angel hiss, Alastor's hand would find his and squeeze gently, grounding him.
Angel nibbled at the chocolate, sipped the tea, and dozed against Alastor's chest. The pain didn't vanish, but it did dull. Softening under the combination of heat, sweetness and constant comfort.
At one point, Angle blinked up at him with exhausted eyes.
"You're really not mad that we ain't goin' out?"
"Not at all," Alastor said firmly. "Dates can be rescheduled. You, however, are irreplaceable."
That earned him a watery laugh, Angel burrying his face into his shoulder to hide how touched he was by his dork of a husband. His voice wobbling as he muttered, "Love you, Al."
Alastor's grin gentle, his lips brushing the top of Angel's head. "And I you."