Chapter Text
As a rule, Angel's first priority after a shoot was to get the fuck out of dodge. Shower all the cum, lube, and oil off, throw on whatever random clothes he'd left in his dressing room, immediately duck out as far away from Val as possible. Of course, now that he was living in the Vees' Tower again, 'as far as possible' was way closer than he would have liked. Technically he had his own quarters — nice big bedroom, nice big bathroom, walk-in closet, the works — but Valentino's suite was only a couple floors away, and the Vees' expansive lounge was only a couple floors above that. More often than not this meant he spent half his night out partying; if he didn't come home until 1 or 2, often Val would be engrossed in whatever he'd spent the night doing — coke, Vox, his latest acquisition, anything — and not care about Angel's absence. Of course, a guy could only get lucky like that so many times. Sometimes he got waylaid before he could make it out the tower door; sometimes he got home at 3 and Val wanted to fuck him into the mattress.
But some days, he was just...tired. The workday ended, the Vees got busy together, and for at least a brief hour or two he knew one of the places he wouldn't be bothered was ironically the guest suite next to Vox's rooms. Val sent him to Vox's floor to retrieve items sometimes, so staff never batted an eye at him slipping inside; and when Vox was elsewhere at night the whole place was quiet. Angel could duck in and sit there for an hour, scrolling his phone in silence with the lights of the city glimmering softly through the windows behind him, and for at least a little while the rest of the world didn't exist. It was as close to peace as he ever got here inside the shittiest place in Hell.
For a few months after he got back, though, he didn't dare venture up to that floor again. Vox seemed to be holed up there all the time — 666 News started running propaganda about the new exciting projects VoxTek must be working on during his conspicuous absence; Valentino seemed increasingly irritable about seeing less of his partner, and didn't hesitate to take it out on Angel's well-abused holes.
But eventually, to Angel's shock, for a while he started to be left alone. Val made a point of dragging Vox into hangouts with Velvette and dates by themselves; things turned a little more back toward the status quo. Angel decided that when he was tired of clubbing, being easily available right in his bedroom, or getting one too many ass pinches in the staff rooms, maybe he could dare an hour on Vox's floor again. Half hour. Fifteen minutes. He'd gotten too used to the hotel, to being able to go home after work and just take a breath, instead of getting fucked up enough to forget every single night.
So, finally, the night came when he waved his staff card at Vox's various locks and ducked inside the empty suite. Vox, Val, and Velvette were outside the building entirely; they probably wouldn't be back for hours. He could sit here and stare at Sinstagram until that asshole janitor left for the night. Like the guy could ever afford the Angel Dust anyway, talk about fucking dreaming.
It was blessedly dim; just the distant nighttime city through the windows and the faint glow of Vox's idle wall monitors. No sounds but the distant noises of staff elsewhere on the floor. Some brief fucking peace and quiet. Angel padded across the room toward his usual nook—
There was a rustling from one of the side bedrooms.
He froze, head whipping around wide-eyed. Had he judged wrong? Were they back early? Was the suite actually in use for once? Leaving a guest they were schmoozing all alone in the tower was nothing like what the Vees would usually do, but everything around here had already been so weird lately—
The rustling came again, then more quiet. No murmuring voices or somebody turning in their sleep. From here he couldn't see inside well, with all the lights off for the night; maybe he could risk just briefly, briefly peeking inside—
He approached, on tiptoes, and at first there was nothing to see but the faint glint of eyes reflecting back at him.
...This was stupid and he should definitely leave right now. It had been stupid to ever start using this suite as a hiding spot in the first place. Out on the town was where he belonged; once he got drunk enough it'd all be fine, it'd be way better than whatever fresh hell he was about to catch for getting in the middle of this, whatever this was—
"Uh... here, kitty kitty?" he mumbled anyway.
There was a soft intake of breath. The rustling came again, then a soft bump against the wall. Angel ventured just close enough to make out a shape huddled in the corner. It didn't look like a cat; if it was a guest then they'd certainly chosen an interesting spot to sleep for the night.
"...You. Uh. Have a nightmare or somethin'...? Sorry if I'm in the way. Could...get ya a glass of water? Have the staff call Vox...?"
This time there was a choked little noise at the mention of that name. Angel was starting to get the sinking feeling that this wasn't a guest exactly. He was, in fact, starting to get the feeling that he should really fucking leave at this point.
Fucking Charlie Morningstar. His afterlife would be so much better if he'd never grown any scruples.
"Hey, nah, I don't have to." He dared to venture further inside. They were close enough to the suite door that any faint lights from underneath might still be noticed, so he didn't touch the switches; instead he just ventured over to sit on the dimly-outlined bed. He kept his voice carefully nonthreatening.
"Nice place to chill when it's quiet, ain't it? When there's nobody ruining the atmosphere." He gave a soft huff of laughter. Vox probably recorded everything that went on in this suite, but oh well. If Angel was discovered then some light badmouthing of Val's partner was going to be the least of his worries.
"I slip in here to get away sometimes. Just scroll my phone, nothin' special. Never had company before. Guessin' you're not exactly here for the fun of it, huh...? I can't stay too long, but... we could hang out a little. Watch some VeeTube?"
There was a little huff in the dark, a brief clearing of the throat.
"Those picture shows will... rot your brain."
'Classic radio' and 'hoarse with pain' certainly didn't sound the same, but regardless, the voice was a little distorted. Distorted, and instantly recognizable. Angel pulled back with shock, feeling something seize up in his chest. There was a tiny movement in the dark — a little flick of an ear, he could make out, now that he knew what he was looking at.
"...what the fuck? A... Alastor?"
Abruptly, Vox staying holed up on his floor not seeing anybody for months made way too much uncomfortable sense.
There was no response for a moment after that, a little more quiet shifting. Angel could vaguely see the shape of probably-Alastor stretch out from a curled-up huddle into a more normal seat on the floor. Was he...wearing clothes? Surely he was wearing clothes. Angel flicked all eight eyes to the side anyway. This wasn't exactly how he'd ever wanted to get into the guy's pants.
"You're here... by yourself...? S-strange choice of hideaway..." Alastor mumbled at last.
Yeah, there was no radio filter over that hoarse voice. Angel couldn't remember ever hearing Alastor sound...hurt before. From the corner of his eyes Angel could perceive cloth shuffling a little bit, and finally he dared to take a look again to see that the other demon was indeed fully nude save for the blanket now carefully pulled over his lap.
This was. He. He really shouldn't be seeing this. He could only imagine what the fuck the guy was thinking right now—
"You got, uh... clothes? That I could go getcha...?"
There was another second of silence.
"No."
Just the one word. Quiet, emotionless.
Grimacing, Angel hesitated a moment before pulling out his phone to unlock it, upping the brightness and tossing it onto the bed for a tiny bit of light. Unsurprisingly, a smile was trying to hold its place on Alastor's lips, but it was small, unsteady, and twitching. A prominent half-healed gash marred the short fur on his chest in a large arc, drawing the eye; Angel tried to keep his gaze on the other's face. Alastor's ears drooped with exhaustion, eyes a little glassy. Seeing him in such a state of dishevelment would have been alarming enough even under normal circumstances, let alone the ones in which they sat now.
"...how the fuck did you end up here?" he asked softly.
He could see Alastor's ears flick backward a little at the sympathetic tone, but he didn't even bother to flatten them entirely against his head, just letting them droop again.
"Slight... miscalculation... th-that I haven't had the chance to correct yet," he mumbled out. "One... one always takes the risk of these things in... a gamble."
"Thinkin' maybe for once you shoulda learned from Whiskers and skipped this bet, man," replied Angel with a purse of his lips. He was tempted to say a few words further, but — no, this wasn't really the time.
"How long you been here?"
Alastor gave a slow blink.
"...What's the date?"
Angel picked up his phone to fiddle with for a moment before holding it out to show the date and time on the lock screen. Alastor squinted at it for several seconds, the look on his face blanking a little. The smile was still trying, if only slightly.
"A while," he murmured at last. The hands resting in his lap shifted as he curled his arms loosely around himself again.
For a moment they simply sat there in a tired, uncomfortable silence. Angel absorbed the words with a quiet feeling of...he wasn't sure what. Unreality, maybe. If Alastor had been locked in here for as long as he was guessing, something was incredibly wrong. This wasn't even anywhere special, just a plain old guest suite. An Overlord as powerful and intimidating as him — Angel, and he was pretty sure the rest of the hotel, had thought of him as a little bit invincible.
Vox's weird obsession with the Radio Demon was no secret to anybody. If his straight-up months of seclusion had anything to do with Alastor, Angel could only think of a few reasons for it. Fucked-up companionship, torture, worse. If the guy wanted to get exciting, Val certainly had plenty of sex toys downstairs to lend.
It left him a little lightheaded. Alastor, of all people? Fuckups like Angel were the ones who ended up in positions like this. Not a guy who had everything together at all times.
"So. When are you planning to... 'correct' it, then...?" Angel swallowed against a dry throat. If this really was some kind of 'gamble' — Alastor must have a plan. He always had plans upon plans upon plans, didn't he, the smug asshole? Even if something had gone wrong here, was taking longer than it should, there had to be a backup.
Nothing but silence from the corner. Alastor stared at the glow of the phone tossed back on the bed, wearing only his shaky little smile.
Right. That was. That was bad.
"...Don't think there's really anything I can do to get you outta here, man," said Angel at last, biting his lip. "I got less than no leverage with Val, and I'm not— I can't talk to the hotel crew right now."
"No one asked you to," Alastor mumbled. Because of course he did, the absolute fucker.
"Oh, fuck off with that shit," Angel scowled. "Vox's been up here dead to the world for months, then I find you under lock and key in his guest rooms lookin' like he's—" His breath stuttered.
"...Lookin' like... death warmed over. If there was ever a time to suck it up and admit you could use some help, it'd be now."
"...help which you've just said you can't provide, so what... does it matter...?" Alastor sighed out.
"I—"
Angel swallowed hard again, middle hands balling into fists in his lap.
"Yeah. Yeah, I...sorry. It just... It isn't fair."
There came an amused little snort from the dim corner.
"When has Hell ever been fair? You're hardly new here, Angel Dust," said Alastor with a hoarse chuckle.
"I m-made my bed, now I must lie in it. Or... sit in my corner, as it were."
Angel chewed on his lip for a little while, reaching over to grasp at his phone. He turned it around in his hands, just trying to breathe.
He was supposed to be alone here. Just him and the work again. Just sleeping in Val's bed, soaking in the staff's admiring leers, and doing all the coke he wanted without Charlie looking over his shoulder.
They were all supposed to stay there. Separate. Safe. That was the whole point of coming back, coming...home. Making sure he couldn't be used against them. Nobody was supposed to follow him. Not in any other way and definitely not...like this.
This was the one person he hadn't been worried about betraying.
"...ya wanna sit by the windows for a little bit?" he murmured at last.
"In that...big couch in the nook. That's where I— Where I sit when I come in here. I just like the city lights. It's like bein' outside, but not outside. Man, it sounds stupid when I say it like that—"
"All right," said Alastor softly.
Angel paused, hesitant, before rising from the bed. He picked up his phone, debated internally for a moment, then stretched out a second hand in invitation to the sinner still sitting on the floor. Alastor stared at it for a second, ears flicking backwards just briefly before they drooped with weariness again; then he stubbornly pulled himself to his feet alone. Hooves clicked against the flooring a little and he was clearly putting most of his weight on the wall. Angel reached out a third hand to, at the very least, hurriedly help him hold the blanket up while he steadied himself. Alastor made no remark on it as he got his feet under him, pulling the fabric around his shoulders.
They settled themselves on the soft couch that circled the windowed nook together, not too close, not too far. Alastor pulled his feet up under the blanket again. Angel leaned back, poked around VeeTube a bit, and pulled up a playlist of soft jazz.
"I'd give you some news, but believe it or not, not much goin' on right now. Least not in my neck of the woods. I guess it's not a bad thing when Vee Tower's boring as fuck," Angel murmured, trying to think of something to say. There wasn't really much to do, it seemed, besides try to relax. He couldn't fix anything. Alastor, at least right now, couldn't fix anything. The only thing Angel could give his...friend? Friend. The only thing he could provide was a moment's distraction, but he knew firsthand how precious such a thing could be.
"No big public announcements outta the hotel. Oh, wait, some stupid fucker made a claim on the edge of Carmine's territory? It was pretty hilarious watching the footage of her goons skewering 'em. Hm, uh— Big run on liquor with the holiday coming up, there was actually a shortage last time I was out clubbin', can you believe that? I could only get two refills. At this rate I'm gonna be blowin' guys just to get 'em to trade me theirs. Hey, and my latest dance vid was number one on streaming for three weeks, Tiffany Titfucker only wishes she could cross genres like that. The shoot was two straight days, barely had breaks, but for once honestly it was kinda worth it? Had a pretty good time. And it went quick enough I didn't forget any of the damn choreography. The lighting guy kept making my face look like a blob, though, I'm telling ya, there was this part where..."
He managed to find inconsequential things to ramble about for a while, mostly staring at his phone, only taking brief little peeks Alastor's way. The other demon interjected only the occasional soft hum to show he was listening, though it seemed like he was paying half-attention at best. Still, the slump of his shoulders was relaxed as he watched the city skyline, the obligatory tiny smile steadier on his face.
Eventually, somehow a whole thirty minutes had passed by. Noticing the amount of time he could safely stay was dwindling, Angel glanced over to make his goodbyes—
And found Alastor curled up with head resting on his knees. His eyes were closed, ears relaxed, breath silent and regular. Apparently he'd fallen asleep. Mark one more down on the list of situations Angel had never expected to see with his own eight eyes in his life.
"...well. Guess that's my cue, huh?" he said softly as he rose to go, silencing his phone.
"Sorry I can't leave you the playlist. I, uh... guess you ain't hearing this... But I'll try to come back if I can. Hang in there? Um... Well, anyway. Sweet dreams."
He padded off to the door and slipped out as quietly as he could, trying to resist the temptation to linger and stare at Alastor's silhouette from the doorway for too long. The Radio Demon wasn't supposed to look like that. Tired. ...Small. It was easy to forget that Angel was taller than him. He would've been perfectly happy never being reminded.
...The hall was empty, and he found himself pulling out his phone again. He stared at it, unlocked it, scrolled through his contacts. For a little while, his finger hovered over Husk's name.
Alastor, or the entire hotel?
No matter which he picked, he was going to regret it later.
He put his phone away again, and at last forced himself to close the door. The locks clicked with a sense of finality behind him.