Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The glass clacked against the lacquered tabletop as Angel slammed his tumbler down. The alcohol burned a pleasant path down his throat, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He swiped the back of his hand over his mouth, blinking against the haziness that was beginning to cloud his vision. Maybe it was a bad idea to be throwing back drinks so fast but it was better than dealing with the headache that was steadily building behind his temples.

“You okay, baby?” came Val’s purring voice to his left.

A hand ran up Angel’s back, settling between his shoulder blades and rubbing circles through his shirt. Angel leaned into the touch a fraction before remembering he was pissed off and kept himself still.

“Yeah,” he bit out, running a finger around the rim of his glass. “I’m fine. I just-“

He was cut off by Vox collapsing into their booth, nearly upending the three drinks he was carrying. Angel blinked at him as he straightened up, setting the glasses down on the table and flashing a crooked grin up at his two onlookers.

“Angel, hey,” Vox greeted, sounding far too nonchalant to be natural. “I didn’t—ahem—realise you’d be here tonight.”

“Really?” Angel said between tight lips. He reached out and touched one of the drinks, sparing a glance up at Val as he did. “I could say the same for you.”

Val didn’t try to respond—didn’t even have the grace to look chagrined at Vox crashing what was supposed to be a date again. He simply leaned back in their booth, drink in one hand, cigarillo in another. The hand on Angel’s back continued to stroke him absentmindedly as he watched Vox straighten up his blazer and glance around the table.

“Is, uh- Is Alastor with you?”

One of Angel’s hands tightened around his glass hard enough to cause a hairline fracture to spiderweb across the crystal. Another drummed his nails against the tabletop. It was with great effort that Angel pulled his lips back from his teeth in some feral imitation of a smile and hissed out, “No.”

This was how it had been, night after night, ever since Alastor’s surprise appearance at the club a few weeks ago. Whatever was wrong with Alastor was clearly wrong with Vox too as the TV-headed sinner was taken with him like a pig to mud. Every time Angel saw him it was always Alastor this and Alastor that. Asking about him, peeking behind Angel’s shoulder as though he might be there, lurking behind him, dripped out in his red demon disguise.

What was worse though, was that Val was playing along with it too. And not just out of some sense of bullying mirth, delighting in his business partner’s crush—no, no. He actually seemed interested in Alastor. So much so that he continued to pepper Angel with suggestions that he bring his ‘freaky, little roommate’ along on their nights out.

Even then, he peered down at Angel with something like frustration in those glassy red eyes. A trail of sweet-smelling smoke drifted out of the corner of his mouth, making Angel lean closer to him despite himself.

“No need to sound so snippy, baby,” Val said, toying idly with the low neckline of Angel’s shirt. He kept pushing it down, making more of the soft fur along Angel’s chest spill out.

“Sorry,” Angel muttered, crossing his lower arms over his stomach. “Guess I’m just a lil’ peeved everyone seems more interested in someone else.”

Val laughed, the sound a deep, rumbling chuckle in the back of his throat. His hand slid from Angel’s back to grip his hip, pulling him in closer until their bodies were pressed together. Angel tried to stay strong, to keep that icy wall he’d built up solid and fortified, but it was a struggle. He’d always craved body heat more than any kind of drug, the pull of another almost impossibly tantalising.

Lately, it had been more of a problem than ever, having another person living in the same space as him that he couldn’t latch onto. And not just any person either.

“Don’t get all pouty now, Angel,” Val crooned, running a finger along the underside of Angel’s chin. He lowered his voice as he said, “You better believe you’re the only one I want to look at. It’d just be nice to have someone to babysit Vox.”

They both glanced over at Vox, whose shoulders had slumped after Angel’s revelation that Alastor was, once again, not accompanying him. He flicked his animated eyes about the club as he nursed his drink, still searching despite what Angel had said.

“Sure,” Angel murmured back, his words masked by the pulsing music. “But that’s not what this is about, is it?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Val’s hand on his hip tightened. Angel sat up straighter, Val’s body pressing him into the vinyl seat suddenly losing all its comfort, turning smothering within a second. As Val’s gaze shifted into something hard and steely, Angel wished for the first time that night that he did have Alastor by his side. He swallowed against the dryness in his throat as Val continued to leer down at him, his cigarillo steadily burning away in his hand.

Then Val leaned back with a laugh and the moment passed.

Angel sagged against the booth, relief allowing his throat to relax and his lungs to expand, though that cold drip of dread continued to trickle down his spine even as Val rubbed soothing circles against his hipbone with his thumb.

“C’mon now, amorcito,” Val said genially, waving his cigarillo about and spilling ash across the table. “You’re sexy, he’s powerful. What’s not to love?”

Angel didn’t respond. He simply turned his gaze down to his own hand clutching his glass as Val’s words knocked around in his skull like a stray ping pong ball.

A beat passed before Vox piped up from across the table. “Huh? What was that?”

Angel downed the rest of his drink.

Angel left the club shortly after. He pulled the leather jacket Val had given him a week ago around his shoulders, fending off the evening chill. It was black with pink piping, cropped at the waist and accentuated his long legs. The hem ended just above the divots of his lower arms, like it had been personally tailored to fit him. A thoughtful gift all round, but Angel suddenly found it too tight across his shoulders, affording him little in the ways of comfort.

He sighed, his breath fogging up in the night air as he paced down the street, his boots clopping against the uneven sidewalk. When he made it to the corner, he passed under a glowing street lamp. The light of the bulb briefly flashed, shining like a meteorite shooting across the sky. A moment later, there was the familiar swish of air beneath wings.

“Angel,” Alastor crowed. “A pleasant evening, wouldn’t you say?”

For a moment he hung as a dark silhouette beneath the light, his wings outstretched and arms held aloft. The only features visible were his glowing pink eyes and gleaming fangs. It reminded Angel of the night they’d first met, Alastor sweeping down from on high to dispatch Angel’s attackers and save him from a grizzly fate. Then his handsome face came into the light, his feathered wings beating the air in slow, powerful beats as he gently lowered himself to the ground.

“I wouldn’t say,” Angel replied stonily, stalking past Alastor in the general direction of their shared apartment.

A moment later, Alastor’s pattering footsteps followed after him. He easily caught up to him with his wings flapping at his back, his eternal smile in place as he cocked his head to the side.

“Why the long face, dear?” Alastor chirped. “You didn’t enjoy your evening with Cassanova?”

Angel didn’t bother trying to correct him.

After their unintentional double date, Angel had insisted that Alastor no longer follow him into the club, both because he didn’t trust him revealing himself to other sinners and Angel would’ve liked to have his date’s undivided attention. Alastor had initially argued that this would be terrible etiquette for a guardian angel to let their charge out of their sight in a den of debauchery such as a night club. So, they had compromised with setting a meeting point and time that, should Angel fail to be in the appropriate spot at the appointed time, Alastor was free to go looking for him.

He probably still slipped inside without Angel seeing him, or sent one of his little minions in to spy for him, but it was better than having Alastor there in the flesh, making uncouth jokes and gawking at sinners brawling on the dancefloor. It also meant Angel could keep him away from Val.

Not that he had to worry about Alastor—he was Alastor for crying out loud! He could turn any demon into minced meat in the blink of an eye. Angel had, unfortunately, borne witness to such a thing on more than one occasion. No, Alastor was cloaked in a layer of holy protection, both from his status as an angel and as a fucking freak. But that didn’t stop the kernel of discomfort that had sprung up that first night when Val had flashed a wolfish grin watching Alastor open up a shining portal beneath the feet of a sinner from worming its way into the pit of Angel’s stomach.

It was ridiculous. So, Angel would stop worrying about it.

“It was fine,” Angel sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “How was your night? Catch any muggins?”

He flicked a glance at Alastor, who was fucking skipping along the gutter, seemingly entirely ignorant to the sounds of angry traffic jams and distant gunshots. His blue suit and pink hair were drops of brightness against the dark, drab backdrop of the city, his halo briefly flashing beneath the shine of streetlamps. Every day he was like this—jazzed as a clam in a coral reef to be in Hell of all places, delighting in the debauchery and depravity that always had Angel checking over his shoulder as he walked home.

At least, he had before he’d gotten a super-powered guardian attack angel.

“Delightful, as always!” Alastor replied chipperly, hopping onto a lamppost, twirling around it once, the leaping off, performing a midair pirouette courtesy of his wings. He landed with a soft clack of his shoes on the pavement by Angel’s side and flashed his pearly fangs up at him. “I’m continuously astounded by the ways in which you people torment each other! I just spent twenty minutes eaves dropping on a couple of young lovers who were in the throes of a terrible break-up. She accused him of having multiple affairs. He accused her of stealing money from him. She shouted that he had never loved her. He shouted back that she only ever belittled him and made him feel worthless.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “It was riveting.”

Angel stared at him. Alastor stared back, his smile never wavering.

“There’s somethin’ seriously fuckin’ wrong with you,” Angel told him.

He kept walking, tugging his jacket tighter around his torso. Alastor didn’t falter this time, immediately falling into step at Angel’s side.

“Naturally!” Alastor said, gesturing to the filthy streets with his cane. “After all, I gave up my comfortable afterlife for all this. But you know what they say.” He spun around to grin at Angel, his magenta eyes glowing eerily in the darkness. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

Angel snorted, smiling despite himself. “And what am I? Trash or treasure?”

He expected Alastor to fire back with some other quippy remark, but instead he paused, staring at Angel unblinkingly. He appeared to deliberate, stroking at his chin with one long pink claw. He took so long in his consideration that Angel’s palms began to get clammy. Having Alastor’s undivided attention was kind of unnerving, like a teacher suddenly calling on you in class.

“You are…” Alastor began but he never finished his sentence. His ears perked up, one swivelling around to the left, followed by the rest of him. He blinked in the darkness, his face going slack as he sucked in a soft gasp.

“What is it?” Angel asked, glancing back and forth between Alastor’s awestruck face and the street. “What’s happening right now?”

“Don’t you hear that?” Alastor replied softly, wandering straight into oncoming traffic.

Angel yelped as a car came barrelling towards him but before it could run him over and turn him into an angelic pancake, it smashed into an invisible barrier, light rippling in a dome around Alastor’s oblivious form. Screeching metal and smoke filled the air as the driver collapsed from the door, hacking up blood onto the road.

“What the fuck?” they muttered, rubbing at a gash along their forehead.

Angel grimaced as he dashed around them and the wreckage of their car to follow Alastor. He had to remind himself that other demons couldn’t see Alastor, only him. He’d gotten so used to his presence at his side, he’d almost forgotten.

“Alastor!” Angel hissed as he caught up to him. He grabbed at Alastor’s sleeve but the other man couldn’t be deterred. He continued to amble through the streets like a man possessed. “The fuck are you doin’? You tryin’ to bring attention to yourself?”

“That music,” Alastor murmured, deaf to Angel’s scolding. “I haven’t heard it in…so long.”

Angel opened his mouth to snap at him some more before his ears finally picked up what Alastor’s keen hearing had detected long before. It was music. An upbeat, bouncy rhythm of horns and piano, the kind of honky-tonk music his folks had listened to while he was alive. It became clearer with every step they took until they rounded a corner and the source revealed itself in the form of a club, lit up with a thousand bright bulbs. A neon sign over the entrance read The Doo-Wap! Above it, also piped in neon tubes of pink, was a decal of a busty demon woman holding up her skirts and kicking a leg up and down in a can-can with every wink of the light.

“My, my!” Alastor crowed, his eyes sparkling under the glow of the building. “What a spot! I can’t believe I hadn’t stumbled across this place until now.”

“What? You wanna go in?” Angel asked, eyebrow raised.

Alastor whirled around on the spot, beaming brighter than all the lightbulbs on the Doo-Wap. “Splendid idea, Angel! Let me just make myself presentable.”

He twirled his cane round in his grip before bringing the butt of it to slam down on the pavement. White tendrils of light crawled up his body, encasing him in a shimmery cocoon before falling away just as suddenly as they’d appeared. Alastor stood there in his demon disguise, the bright pinks, whites and blues of his regular appearance replaced with red and black. Just as it had a few weeks ago, the image of Alastor like this, looking so at home amongst Hell’s sinners, unnerved Angel. It looked so natural on him.

“There we are!” Alastor declared, dusting off the padded shoulders of his red overcoat. “Now, I’m ready to mingle with all the cutthroats and perverts of the world. Let’s go!”

He seized Angel’s hand and all but pulled his arm from its socket as he dragged him across the street and over to the entrance. Angel could do nothing but stumble along after him, helpless in the presence of Alastor’s powerful enthusiasm. He’d been ready to turn in for the night, his mood thoroughly trampled by his date with Val (and Vox), but it seemed Alastor had other plans for them.

They approached the bouncer, who swept a critical look up the length of them, squinting glowing red eyes. “Line’s over there, boys.”

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the long line of finely dressed demons waiting to get in. Angel grimaced but Alastor merely laughed, waving the bouncer’s words away.

“That’s alright!” he said cheerily. “Because you’re going to let us straight in!”

The man scoffed, an incredulous smile pulling at his lips. “Oh, am I no-?“

“Yes,” Alastor cut in, his antlers branching out from his head a foot in either direction as glyphs of ominous red flickered through the air. His eyes had glazed over from scarlet to black, his pupils stretching into pointed dials. “You are.”

Angel and the bouncer both stared at him in mute terror. He wasn’t sure about the other guy, but Angel was also feeling a little something else at Alastor’s big, scary demon schtick.

The fuck? Maybe there was something seriously fucking wrong with him.

The bouncer wavered for a moment before evidently deciding his pay check wasn’t worth getting gored on a rack of barbed antlers for and stepped aside. “Of course. Come on in, gentlemen.”

In an instant, Alastor was back to his regular self, antlers small and unassuming, eyes a shining red, and no weird glyphs hanging in the air. He doffed an imaginary hat at the man and seized up his cane.

“Thank you, my good man! Come along, Angel.”

He breezed past the bouncer and Angel hurried to follow, blowing a kiss at the terrified demon as he did.

The hall leading into the club was short, quickly opening up to the main floor. It was smaller than most places Angel had visited over his handful of decades in Hell, the place lit up as opposed to being bathed in sensual darkness, bodies clustered on a dancefloor and bouncing along to the music played by a live band up on the stage. The musicians all wore snappy suits, their shiny, buckled shoes tapping away to the beat of their horns and strings. At the right wing, a man slapped at the ivory keys of a piano with all the gumption and force of a judge banging his gavel. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, the musky scent of it cloying up Angel’s senses with every breath.

The club was like a place out of time, as thought he’d taken a step back into his childhood. Everywhere he looked demons were dressed in suits, slacks, suspenders and tasselled skirts. He couldn’t see a single pair of bellbottoms or go-go boots. Angel felt out of place in his leather jacket and black shorts that were laced up the crack of his ass like a corset.

Alastor, however, did not appear to be having the same misgivings.

“Would you look at this place?” he breathed, eyes sparkling with wonder as he turned in a slow circle to soak everything in. “Why, this takes me back.”

“It’s okay,” Angel conceded, watching a couple dance to the upbeat music like their lives depended on it. The man picked the woman up and tossed her over his shoulder, spinning around and catching her before she could faceplant into the ground. “What? You don’t have places like this up in Heaven?”

Alastor let out a vague hum, his gaze remaining trained on the band. “We might do, I’m not sure. This is just like this one spot I would frequent with friends back when I was alive. Oh, we’d have such fun.”

Angel frowned at that. What did Alastor mean he wasn’t sure? He opened his mouth to question him but a honking voice piped up at his elbow.

“Glad ya like it, handsome.”

Angel and Alastor both looked down to see a woman had sidled up to them at some point during their short conversation. She was small and plump, her blonde bob of hair adorned with feathers, and wearing a beaded flapper dress. She flashed a sharp-toothed grin up at them and batted inky-black eyes Alastor’s way.

Angel narrowed his eyes at this sudden intrusion, preparing to grab Alastor by the arm and steer him away, but Alastor beat him to it, sticking his hand out for the woman to shake.

“I do like it,” he informed her, bringing her knuckles up to his mouth when she slipped her petite hand into his. “Are you a regular of this fine establishment?”

“You could say that,” she replied, fluffing up the curled edges of her hair. “I work here. Name’s Mimzy.”

“Alastor,” he said in answer, pressing a kiss to her gloved fingers.

Mimzy let out a pleased little giggle behind her hand as Alastor straightened up, the tattered coattails of his red get-up swishing around his knees. Angel watched the exchange with a distinctly sour sensation curdling his guts. The urge to grab Alastor and drag him away was getting stronger by the second.

A fleeting glint passed over Mimzy’s gaze as Alastor released her hand. “Haven’t heard that name in a while. Well, Alastor, you like this place so much you oughta use it, huh? Wanna dance?”

Alastor lit up like a Christmas tree on the first day of December. He gripped the tattered hem of his waistcoat and bowed low. “I’d love nothing more, my dear!”

Before Angel could protest, Alastor was seizing Mimzy by the waist and dragging her into the throng of dancing bodies just as the band started up a lively tune. Mimzy went willingly with a loud cackle, hanging onto her feathered headband as Alastor pulled her away. Angel choked out a single noise before they were gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

The moment they disappeared from view, the alarm bells started ringing in Angel’s head. Alastor plus a strange woman did not equal good things. He was just as likely to drop her into a portal leading to a tar pit or turn her into a fucking newt than he was to just boogie. So, Angel straightened up his jacket and pushed his way through the dancefloor until he spotted two pointy ears sticking out above the crowd.

“Alastor!” Angel called out, grunting as some broad in a pair of heels trampled over his toes. “Al!”

The crowd thinned to the point where he could spot Alastor and Mimzy zipping past on the dancefloor. They moved at lightning speed, Alastor’s tall frame seeming to have no problem accommodating Mimzy’s short stature. He lifted her easily, throwing her under his arms where she stretched her leg out in a flick of a kick. He set her back down on her feet and then they were joining hands to twirl and tap and their shoes against the floorboards in time with one another.

Angel watched it all with his mouth hanging open. It was nothing like watching Alastor dance with Vox at the club, Alastor dragging him around like he was towing an iron ball. No, Mimzy matched Alastor’s every move, flowing around him like water. Their movements were comfortable, almost like their dance was practiced.

But that was impossible. Maybe they’d been alive during similar time periods and just knew all the same moves?

He sidled closer, earning more passing bumps and bruises in the process, to hear their conversation.

“Wow,” Mimzy said a little breathlessly as Alastor dipped her low enough for her bob of blonde curls to brush the floor. “You got quite the set a’ moves.”

Alastor flashed her a sharp-toothed grin and snapped the both of them back upright. “Thank you, my dear. You’re rather light on your feet, yourself.”

“Y’know, it’s funny,” Mimzy began at the same time Alastor murmured, “It’s almost as if-“

“-I know you,” they said in unison.

Angel finally broke through the crowd, staggering over to their side where the pair of them had gone still, hanging onto each other and staring the other down with wide eyes. He hunched over, hands braced on his knees, and dragged in breath after breath of stale air. He wanted desperately to break that silence that had settled like a fine film over he and her, to crack the sense of unease that was steadily crawling up his throat. But he was too busy catching his breath.

Meanwhile, Mimzy was blinking her long eyelashes up at Alastor as he cocked his head to the side to examine her.

“You’re-?” Mimzy started.

“You mean to say-?” Alastor exclaimed.

Angel lifted his head up to wheeze, “What? You guys know each other or somethin’?”

Instead of answering Angel, Alastor sang softly over the music, “My gal only needs two things-“

Mimzy’s black eyes sparkled as she shot two finger guns at Alastor, “Bang! Bang!”

Alastor’s expression lit up brighter than the sign outside the door, his excitement mirrored on Mimzy’s face. Her sly expression morphed into one of wide-eyed glee as she clapped her hands over Alastor’s cheeks, smooshing them together between her palms.

“Alastor!” she cried, her nasally voice cracking in the middle. “It’s you?”

“It’s meeee!” Alastor sang back, his words slightly muffled on account of Mimzy contorting his face into a ball of dough. “Is that you, Miri-?”

“Hey!” Mimzy barked, squishing his cheeks even further until his lips were puckered out like a fish. “It’s just Mimzy, now. Got it?”

Alastor nodded his head between her hands and her frown instantly vanished, replaced by a wide grin. Squealing like a pig, she threw her arms round Alastor’s neck, a couple of long beaded tassels attached to the hem of her evening gloves slapping him in the cheek. Alastor caught her, easily spinning her stout figure round in a circle, Mimzy’s heel nearly taking the head off a nearby sinner.

Angel watched the both of them, saw the familiarity shining, bright and clear, in Alastor’s red eyes, feeling lost. His arms hung loosely by his sides, the warmth of the club evaporating as he was left clutching at straws while Alastor and Mimzy gushed over one another. Alastor had never mentioned a Mimzy to him. She couldn’t have been that important if she’d never come up in conversation—not that Alastor was exactly the walking, talking picture of openness. He was more like a clam, keeping that pearl of secrecy locked away behind tight lips.

But the way he was smiling at her, his grin seeming genuine for once instead of an eternal stasis, told Angel otherwise.

“Whatta we doin’, standin’ around out here for?” Mimzy demanded, all genial smiles and outstretched arms. “C’mon. Let’s go somewhere a lil’ more private to catch up.”

She laid her hand in the crook of Alastor’s elbow, leading him away from the dancefloor. He glanced over his shoulder and called out to Angel, even as he allowed Mimzy to tow him away.

“Come along, Angel! Wouldn’t want to lose you!”

Angel swore a hearty, “Shit!” and scrambled to follow after them.

“So, where ya been all this time?” Mimzy asked, pouring an unhealthy amount of whiskey into a glass tumbler before passing it to Alastor.

They were in a dressing room of sorts, a row of vanities littered with glass bottles of cosmetics and perfume on one side, racks of sequinned, tasselled gowns and feather boas on the other. A couple of the showgirls were currently out on stage, their voices and the thrum of music pulsing through the wooden walls. Mimizy appeared oblivious to it all, a cigarette in one hand and drink in the other, sat on the table of a vanity emblazoned with her name in swirly pink script above the mirror as she faced Alastor, sat on her fluffy stool. Angel sat off to the side, drinkless and unhappy.

“Y’know, I gotta tell ya, I never expected to see your handsome face down here,” she went on before Alastor could answer. “Much as I knew you liked to party, you were always such a good boy. When I didn’t see ya for the first few years down here I figured that was it! The two a’ us separated forever!” She took a drag on her cigarette, blowing out a plume of smoke as she swept her glittering, onyx eyes up the length of him. “Only to find you’ve been in hidin’ or somethin’. So, what gives? Where’ve you been holed up the last fifty years? I’ve missed ya.”

“I’ve missed you too, darling,” Alastor replied eagerly.

“Couldn’t a’ missed her that much,” Angel grumbled, both sets of arms crossed firmly over his torso. He shivered in the empty dressing room. The cold was setting in and he was beginning to regret wearing his cropped jacket. “Seein’ as I never heard a’ her before now.”

Mimzy’s charming grin melted into a scowl, her hooked nose scrunching up as she cut a glare across at him. “I’m sorry, but who are you again?”

Angel met her glare with one of his own, the fur along his neck and shoulders bristling. He’d dealt with his fair share of catty bitches over the course of his lives—that skank, Tiffany, who worked at the same club as him was rivalled only by that cow neighbour of his, Nelly Moskowitz, who’d lived across the hall from him in his tiny Brooklyn apartment—and Mimzy fit the mold perfectly. He was itching to get his claws out and really start trading barbs with her when Alastor stepped in, answering for him.

“Angel Dust!” he said brightly, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in until his monocle nearly took out one of Angel’s eyes. “He was a great help to me when I first came here. Showed me the how-to and even invited me into his home.”

That was more than a slight stretch of the truth. It would’ve been more accurate to say Alastor had invited himself into Angel’s home and Angel had been given little choice other than to go along for the ride, lest he lose himself a super-powered angelic body guard/sugar daddy (extra sugar, minus the daddy).

“We’ve become the best of friends,” Alastor declared, flashing a sunny smile at Angel, who merely squinted against the bright glare sparkling off his teeth.

“Have ya now?” Mimzy intoned, meaning heavy in her words as she stared at Alastor’s arm laying heavy across Angel’s shoulders.

Angel was equal parts tempted to shove Alastor away and burrow closer while giving Mimzy fuck you eyes. He settled on staying as he was, letting Alastor touch him with that casual carelessness he always did, never more—like, ever—but not feeding into it either.

“Guess it’s true what they said up there,” Mimzy went on, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling with her cigarette, sprinkles of ash falling, unnoticed, across the carpet. “This place really is just full a’ whores and queers.” Another flick of her onyx eyes up and down Angel’s body. “Or both.”

Angel bared his teeth in a snarl, his hackles well and truly raised, but Alastor beat him to it once again.

“Oh, no! Surprisingly, homosexuality has nothing to do with the holy admission process.”

Mimzy snorted around her glass, swallowing before saying, “What? Like you know?”

Angel reached out without thinking, his hand landing on Alastor’s shirtfront. He squeezed the fabric in his fist, buttons threatening to pop at the pull of cotton.

“Al,” he said tonelessly but Alastor didn’t seem to hear him.

“Indeed, I do,” Alastor confirmed with a nod. “It was one of the things I questioned some of the higher-ups about when I first arrived. I was rather curious, you see.”

Mimzy frowned, her stick-thin eyebrows drawing together. “Whattaya talkin’ about? You been on a bender tonight or somethin’?”

“Alastor,” Angel hissed, his heart beginning to kick into panic mode. It threatened to beat through his chest if Alastor didn’t shut the fuck up.

“No benders,” Alastor tutted, wagging a disapproving finger at Mimzy. “That’s hardly befitting my station, after all.”

Mimzy hummed a questioning grunt around her cigarette while Angel tugged at Alastor as though he could keep him in his seat by force. But Alastor was like a dog with a bone when it came to gripping an idea between the teeth and Angel was powerless in the face of his enthusiasm.

Mimzy started to say, “The fuck’re you-?”

But a beacon of white light flashed from within Alastor, lighting him up from the core. He shot out of his seat as though yanked up by phantom strings, breaking free of Angel’s grip. In a shimmer of sparkling dust, the light fell away, revealing Alastor as Angel knew him, in all his resplendent, angelic glory. The red and black of his demonic disguise melted away, leaving him in his natural pink, white and blue.

“Holy shit!” Mimzy squawked, flailing so hard she fell from her spot perched on the lip of her vanity, tumbling to the floor.

“Holy shit, indeed,” Alastor sang, wings outstretched and hovering a few feet off the ground, arms held aloft.

As Mimzy scrambled about on the floor, her skirt flipped over and baring her spanks, Angel shot to his feet and grabbed at Alastor’s sleeve, desperately trying to tug him back to the floor.

“Al!” Angel exclaimed, eyes ping-ponging wildly back and forth between Alastor, flapping his wings and kicking up clouds of dust on the old wooden floors, and Mimzy, still struggling to pull her skirt down and roll onto her knees. “What’re ya doin’? Put those things away!”

He pushed at Alastor’s wings as though he could shove them behind Alastor’s back and make Mimzy forget she’d ever seen them. Alastor looked entirely unconcerned as he gently lowered himself to the ground, the shiny pink toes of his shoes touching down beside Angel.

“Oh, don’t worry, Angel,” he said with a smile. “We can trust Mimzy. She’s one gal who can keep a secret.”

He dropped a wink as Mimzy finally flipped over onto her hands and knees, her blonde bob in disarray and the feather tucked into her headband flopping over her face. She blew at the offending feather as she blinked in astonishment up at Alastor, the light twinkling from his halo glinting in her inky eyes.

“What the fuck?” she whispered.

Alastor reached a hand out to her, closing his magenta claws over her dainty knuckles as he helped her to her feet. Doffing an imaginary hat, he bowed at the waist and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I must say, I missed your presence up in Heaven, Mimzy dear,” he said, grinning up at her stupefied face. “That place was really missing a certain lively sparkle without you there. I’m so glad to have you back.”

As a giddy smile began to break over Mimzy’s face, Angel could do nothing more than watch on, the stone of dread he’d felt building in his stomach sinking all the way down to the soles of his feet.

They were so fucked.

Chapter Text

Angel would admit that he could be more than a bit of a bitch sometimes.

He’d decided right off the bat that he didn’t like Mimzy. The way she talked, the irritating honk of her laugh, her talent for making every word sound like a back-handed compliment, hidden behind long lashes and painted, smirking lips. All of it rankled Angel to no end, but he also knew, beyond his initial instinct to strike back with just as quick and venomous a barb, that it would possibly be unfair to think of Mimzy poorly over a first impression. His mama had always said you had to let a person show you their colours before dealing out judgement on them.

But it wasn’t just a first impression. The more Angel grew to know about Mimzy, the more his hunch on her being a two-faced, selfish bitch was confirmed.

Ever since that night at the club—a night Angel wished he could take a giant eraser to and wipe away from existence—Alastor had been spending more and more time away from their shared home. The phone would ring, Alastor would drop whatever he was doing, whether that be cooking Angel breakfast, dusting the curtains while he sang along to the radio, or listening to Angel bitch about his Val problems, and he’d zip right off to answer it. Even through the tinny receiver, Angel would make out Mimzy’s nasally, needling tone, and just like that, Alastor would be shrugging on his demon disguise and heading out the door.

It was the same line every time.

“Apologies, Angel, but Mimzy needs me!”

Then he’d be gone, the door slammed behind him and rattling on the hinges, leaving Angel to stand, marooned in the middle of an apartment that had never felt too big until he knew what it was to have Alastor missing from it. Mimzy always seemed to fucking need him. For hours at a time. Alastor would tromp home at some ungodly hour, shed his red and face-plant onto the sofa, his nose often landing on the crease of Angel’s thighs where he was sitting, pretending like he wasn’t waiting up for Alastor. That’d be just a little too pathetic.

But he couldn’t deny it. He was worried about that fucker.

The first few nights when Alastor had blown him off (not in the fun way) for Mimzy, he’d tried going out. No Al, no Val, no one. Just he, himself and a bump of coke, but even that hadn’t been enough to get his mind out of the spiral of questions whirling around in his brain like water circling a drain. What was Alastor doing? What was he doing with Mimzy? Had his blown his cover to anymore old friends?

It made the skin beneath his fur crawl just thinking about it.

After nearly two weeks of this pissy cycle, Angel had officially had enough. With Alastor’s face in his lap and his wings flopping out like a couple of dried-up leaves behind him, Angel snapped.

“For fuck’s sake, Al,” he sighed, flicking at one of Alastor’s ears and watching it twitch. “What’s that broad gotchya doin’, anyway? Hard labour?”

Alastor turned his head just enough to bear his mouth, his breath ghosting against Angel’s bare stomach. “Certainly not. Mimzy’s in a spot of trouble and I’m helping her out of it, that’s all.”

Angel quirked an eyebrow even as he ran his fingers through Alastor’s hair, gently petting him. The dark bruises under Alastor’s eyes showed against the pale alabaster of his skin, making him look haggard and drawn. In the few months he’d known Alastor, he’d never seen him look tired. He was always fully charged, one hundred percent, ready to go, thousand-watt smile and annoyingly chipper attitude in place, perfectly designed to make Angel drag his feet. That he should miss that must’ve been some kinda sign of the end times.

“Helpin’ her with what?” Angel pressed, softly scratching Alastor’s scalp around the base of his antlers.

Alastor’s eyes fluttered shut, a pleased hum vibrating in the back of his throat as he answered. “These unsavoury fellows she seems to be tangled up with. An ex-boyfriend and his group of cronies, I believe. I’ve gathered their relationship did not end well.”

Angel snorted. “Ya don’t say.”

“I do say,” Alastor replied, pushing his head back more firmly into Angel’s hands. “He keeps coming around the club, looking for Mimzy. He won’t listen to reason so she’s been calling me to do away with him.” Angel opened his mouth but Alastor rushed to add, “I haven’t killed him so don’t start, alright? So far, I’ve just…diverted him. But I think Mimzy is hoping I’ll dish out some divine retribution and get him off her back once and for all.”

“Al,” Angel sighed again, shaking his head. “That gal’s usin’ you. Plain as day! Every time I see you, ya look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say-“

“Then the truck stopped and backed up and ran you over again.”

“Really, I don’t think-“

“Then the truck driver got out and beat you up some more.”

“Angel-“

“Then tossed ya in the gutter and some rats started eatin’ ya.”

“I see your point, Angel!” Alastor burst out, rolling off Angel’s lap and rising to his feet. He stalked around the coffee table, his usual smile looking more than a little brittle in the corners. Eventually he stopped on the other side of the room, the lamp throwing his shadow against the wall in a twisted, elongated fun-house mirror of his lithe silhouette. “But this is how things have always been between us, even when we were both alive. Mimzy was always getting caught up in some mess or other and I always helped her out of it. Because that’s what friends do.”

He said the last part like a mantra, something repeated over and over into the bathroom mirror, a lie repeated enough times to try and trick the speaker into believing it was real. Angel had often done the same thing when he struggled to find the motivation to go to work, or make it through a date with a guy all for the promise of a little somethin’ thrown his way.

“You will fuck this guy and you will like it. You will fuck this guy and you will like it.”

“She don’t sound like much of a friend,” Angel said presently, ignoring the him of a few years ago, willing to suck any guy’s dick if it meant a shot of this or a bump of that.

Alastor’s pretty pink eyes narrowed, the red irises winking like twin drops of blood in the soft light. “It’s just how she is. But it’s no bother! Really! Nothing I can’t handle.”

Angel squinted at the way Alastor’s eyelids drooped at uneven levels and hummed doubtfully.

“I don’t know ‘bout that, Al. Even Superman needed rest.”

Alastor waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not familiar with his work. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He tromped across the living room to his bedroom, opened the door, and unceremoniously faceplanted onto the lush grass inside. The door snapped shut behind him, taking both the tweeting of birds and the sight of Alastor’s shoes with it.

Angel sighed, sinking further back into the sofa and wondering just what in the hell he was gonna do. Women had never been his area of expertise.

The following night, Angel stumbled through the door after a long shift at the club. He hadn’t seen Val there in a while, which both rankled and relieved him. Relieving in that he didn’t have to worry about what he’d say to him if they came face to face, and rankled on account of Val not having called him in days. Granted, Angel hadn’t called him, but that was beside the point! All he knew was that he was ready to spend a night in with his roomie, watching old cartoons and having Alastor laugh at all the wrong places. But when he stepped inside, the apartment was dark.

“Alastor? You there?” Angel called out, but received no reply.

Their mismatched furniture simply stared back at him, along with the eyeball in the centre of Alastor’s bedroom door. It tracked his movements as he paced into the kitchen and found a solitary note stuck to the fridge.

Gone to the club to help Mimzy. Don’t wait up! :D

-Alastor.

Angel sighed as he read the note over then promptly crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash. His head was a whirl of pounding thoughts as he grabbed the bottle of cheap wine out of the fridge and popped the cork. Were Alastor there, he’d be able to conjure up some of the good stuff for the both of them to glut themselves on, but as it was, he’d have to content himself with the bottle of pinot grigio he’d swiped from the corner store on the way home a couple of days ago. He didn’t bother pouring himself a glass, instead drinking straight from the bottle.

As he flopped down on the couch, staring at his glum reflection in the TV screen, Angel was reminded far too much of his pre-Alastor times. His apartment had been little more than a place to crash between benders back then. Angel didn’t really love being around people but he liked being alone even less, so he’d pick himself up before he could even get over last night’s hangover to drag himself from the house to get drunk, high or whatever else all over again. He hadn’t realised it at the time, but he’d been devastatingly lonely. It wasn’t until he’d had his life invaded by Alastor that he’d realised that in retrospect.

He'd been annoyed at Alastor’s constant presence at first, but now he found himself instantly missing him, the hole at his side where a chipper angel ought to have been painfully difficult to ignore. And all ‘cause of that troublesome bimbo, Mimzy. Angel’s jaw clenched just picturing her tossing Alastor on all of her problems like a fire blanket.

Alastor couldn’t see that she was using him, or could but didn’t want to believe it. Which was exactly why Angel needed to step in and do something about it.

Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to make with half a belly full of wine, but that was what Angel was doing as he pushed himself back to his feet with a groan. He stumbled for the door and ripped it open-

To see Val standing on the other side.

His fist was raised as though ready to rap his knuckles on the door, a bored expression on his face that quickly morphed into a charming grin as Angel opened the door and blinked up at him. The sight of him, and his own stunned reflection in the glassy sheen of Val’s eyes had Angel stalling, his heart freezing in his chest for a split second before it continued hesitantly beating.

“Ah, there he is!” Val crowed, curling a finger into the low collar of Angel’s shirt. “And getting the door for me too. Such a gentleman you are, baby.”

“Val?” Angel croaked, blinking rapidly, but Val remained there, proving himself to not be some apparition or mirage brought on by too much booze on an empty stomach. “What-? What’re you doin’ here?”

Val shrugged carelessly. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to see you. Now, be a good boy and let papi inside, yeah?”

He pushed his way in before Angel could respond, nearly knocking over a lamp with the huge handbag looped over his arm. Angel scrambled after him, catching the lamp before it could hit the ground then watching Val stand in the centre of the living room and examine the apartment. In his expensive clothes and his antennae nearly brushing the ceiling, Val looked wildly out of place in Angel’s humble lodgings. It had never been a problem before but Angel suddenly felt self-conscious of the mismatched, thrifted furniture, the clutter everywhere, and the general…riff-raff of the place.

With Alastor’s magic, he supposed they could’ve gotten an upgrade by now, but Alastor had never complained. In fact, he had been entirely taken with the place the day Angel had woken up to find him frying eggs in his kitchen. So, Angel hadn’t complained either. Honestly, the place felt just the right size for him and Alastor, snug and cosy in a way that made it easier to ignore the leaky shower head and the upstairs neighbour who seemed to have cinderblocks for feet. But as Val turned in a circle, raking unimpressed eyes over their place, Angel felt the need to apologise. For what, he wasn’t exactly sure, only that Val’s sneer was making the fur along his arms stand erect.

“This is…kinda shitty!” Val finished chipperly before tossing himself down on Alastor’s armchair.

It didn’t solely belong to Alastor, but he always sat there in the evenings when he wasn’t holed up in his room, humming along to the radio and nodding his head. Plus, he’d conjured it from whatever thieving portal dimension he got all his other magicked shit from, so Angel steered clear of it.

“I wasn’t expectin’ company,” Angel grumbled, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. It was covered in beer stains and salt from his shift at the club.

Val snorted, picking at a stray thread on the armrest of the chair. “Clearly.”

Angel’s eyes fell from Val’s face to the handbag on his lap. It was obnoxiously big, like the kind his aunties would carry around, half fashion accessory, half deadly weapon, capable of caving a man’s head in with one swat.

“What’s with the bag?”

“Oh, this?” Val drawled, stroking the zebra print fabric. “Just a gift for my favourite little bitch.” He grinned and held the bag aloft with his pinky sticking out. “That’s you, by the way.”

“Me?” Angel breathed, taking the bag.

He briefly wondered if Val was just fucking with him and there was a brick inside. Maybe this whole thing was some cruel build up to Val kicking his ass to the curb.

Then the bag moved and Angel yelped.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, dropping the bag and snatching it with his lower arms before it could hit the ground. “The fuck’s in here? A snake?”

“Just look inside already,” Val said, waving a lazy hand.

Huffing, Angel did. He undid the clasp and pulled the bag open to reveal two black beady eyes staring at him amongst a cushion of crushed velvet. He nearly dropped the bag again but managed to hold on as the little creature poked its head out, blinking up at Angel and snorting softly, its small, round snout wrinkling as it oinked up at him. Angel nearly perished on the spot at the sight of the little hellpig snuffling against his hand, sniffing his fingers and poking a wide, flat tongue out to lick at the handle of the bag.

“Oh my god,” Angel gasped, scooping the pig from the bag and cradling it to his chest. The piglet immediately leaned his head against the fluff spilling out from between Angel’s unbuttoned shirt, his horns lightly scraping his collarbone. “He’s so cute! He’s really for me?”

“Of course,” Val said flippantly, pushing himself to his feet, but not before swiping the bottle of wine from the coffee table.

Angel could care less. Val could down the whole thing himself and leave Angel to stare at the little baby in his arms. Human bubs had never done it for him, but animals awoke a paternal side to him that would otherwise lay dormant forever. He supposed it was a good thing he’d kicked the bucket before any of his siblings ever got the chance to procreate. He figured he’d be a way better dad to a piglet than an uncle to a human kid.

Turning on the spot, Angel blinked at Val’s back facing him from the kitchen. His long arms were reaching up into Angel’s cabinets, pulling out wine glasses and pouring from the bottle. Angel coughed, still awkward from Val suddenly being in his place, somewhere he’d never envisioned him setting foot. It was like having his one-night stand sit next to hm at church, or Alastor at his side for peaceful meditation. Some things just didn’t gel together. But he felt, with Val’s unexpected gift softly oinking in his arms, that he had to say something.

“Uh, thanks,” he offered with a timid smile. When Val looked over his shoulder at him, one eyebrow raised, he coughed again and added, “This is real nice a’ ya. I just—I don’t know what else to say.”

“How about, ‘wow, you’re so generous. I’m so lucky to have you’?” Val suggested with a grin, sweeping back to Angel’s side, carrying two glasses of wine. He held one out to Angel and chuckled. “That’d be a way to start.”

“Right,” Angel said curtly as he took the glass. He couldn’t ignore the confusing cocktail of emotions brewing in his stomach, even as Val leaned back against the kitchen counter and took a swig of wine. “I guess I just—I was feelin’ like maybe you weren’t that into me, y’know? Whenever we’d be hangin’ out, Vox would always be there and then you’d just keep askin’ me about Alastor and-“

“I know, baby,” Val crooned, placing a sorrowful hand on his chest. With his two lower hands he reached out and grabbed Angel by the hips, pulling him in until he was stood between Val’s heeled boots. Val hooked a finger beneath Angel’s chin and tipped his head up, those glassy pink eyes boring into Angel’s, snatching the breath from his lungs. “I haven’t been giving you the attention you need, have I? Ay. Can you forgive me, amorcito?”

Angel swallowed, his throat dry. It was a little hard to think straight with Val leering down at him like that, and all while he was holding a hellpig in his arms. “I mean-“

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Val said, trailing a hand up Angel’s stomach to tug at the collar of his shirt. “And I’m all yours.”

He grasped Angel’s fingers pinching the stem of his wine glass and lifted the cup towards his lips. Angel felt compelled to let it happen, pinned to the spot as he was by Val’s intense stare. When the rim of the glass touched his lips, he obediently opened his mouth and let the wine pour in. With a swallow, it rushed down his gullet and into his belly, making Valentino smile.

“There’s a good boy,” Val murmured, lifting his own glass once more. “Now, come on. The night is still young.”

He drank, so Angel, confused and discombobulated as he was, followed suit. What else was there to do? Talking had never been a him and Val thing, it was much more a him and-

“Shit,” Angel cursed as he swallowed the last of his wine. He frowned into the glass, squinting at the dregs floating in the bottom. The ground shifted uneasily beneath his feet and his head was so light he felt he could’ve floated away.

Val raised an eyebrow at him over the rim of his glass. “What’s wrong, Angie?”

Angel shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to regain his bearings. He should not be feeling this out of it over a little white wine.

“N-Nothin’, I’m fine. Must just be the booze not agreein’ with my empty stomach.”

But even as he said it and reached out to support himself against the kitchen bench, his hand slipped, nearly sending him crashing to the ground. Val, his hands still locked around Angel’s waist, held him upright, his grip tightening.

“Oh, shit. Looks like someone over-did it.”

“No—No. I didn’t-“

But Val was already leading him towards the couch and Angel, too fucked out of his mind to think straight, went with him, dragging his feet and leaning against Val’s side the whole way. Val petted his hair and cooed sympathetically at him as he lowered Angel onto the mismatched cushions.

“It’s okay, baby. Just sleep it off. You’ll be fine in the morning,” Val said, the shape of him looming over Angel as he laid him out on his back.

Angel blinked, trying to keep Val’s face in focus but he kept wavering before his eyes, his antennae swaying like smeared paint, the magenta haze of his eyes warping and shrinking. He tried to speak but his voice came out as a weak croak.

“I…don’t…”

The Val-shaped blur was moving away from him then, rising as Angel’s vision went dark. The last thing he heard was Val’s low chuckle before he completely conked out. He kept his grip on the fat piglet though, hugging him to his chest like a lifeline.

It was that same piglet that shocked Angel awake.

Something soft and wet was brushing against the short fur of his face, making Angel’s eyes shoot open. He found the hellpig Val had given him staring back, his tongue still poking out of his mouth. From there, everything came flooding back all at once.

Carefully picking the pig up and depositing him by his side, Angel gingerly sat up, his head foggy with more than just alcohol. What the fuck had been in that wine? If he didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn he was-

Ice froze over the pit of his stomach but when he looked down his clothes were the regular amount of rumpled. A quick assessment told him all his parts were as they’d been earlier, which was both a relief but only made him more confused. If Val hadn’t meant to live out some fucked up little fantasy and have his way with him, then why waste a perfectly good roofie?

“Val?” Angel called out, his voice coming out rough and throaty. He cleared it before repeating himself. “Val? You still here?”

No reply came his way. The apartment was still and quiet as a corpse, the shadows eking up the walls far more pronounced than what they’d been when Angel had first stumbled home. A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall told him he’d been out for hours. Shit.

“Alastor?” he tried instead but no chipper, “Yes, my dear?” sounded from the radio.

Angel pressed his mouth into a thin line as he pushed himself to his feet, fighting off the ensuing wave of dizziness. One scope of the apartment told him that while his body had remained untouched, the same couldn’t be said for all their shit. The kitchen cabinet doors were all open, the drawers of cutlery pulled out. Even the fridge was ajar. Angel closed it with a light slap and made his way to his bedroom, his new companion trotting behind him and oinking quizzically. His room was just as bad, everything turned inside out, his closet a wide, yawning mouth and clothes strewn across the floor. Val had even stripped the sheets from his bed.

Looking for what, Angel had no idea.

The only thing that remained untouched seemed to be Alastor’s room. When he approached the door, the eye embedded into the wood blinked open, tracking Angel with its slit pupil.

“Hey,” Angel greeted, trying to stave off his growing panic and unease. “Don’t s’pose you let some big moth asshole inside, did ya?”

The eye gave him a withering look and Angel held his hands up in surrender.

“Just askin’,” Angel grumbled.

He turned from the door as the situation he was in finally beat through his skull. Val, the sexy hunk who’d swept Angel off his feet so thoroughly, he hadn’t even noticed it, had drugged him to scope his house. The realisation that it was probably about Alastor only made his limbs feel more leaden. He kept staring at the carpet, waiting—praying—for a dark pit to open up and swallow him whole, but the floor stubbornly remained a floor.

“Fuck,” Angel rasped as tears stung his eyes.

An idiot. That’s what he’d been. This whole time, ever since Val had murmured some pretty words at him at the club, he’d just been one giant idiot. Alastor had tried to tell him, but Angel had been so caught up in the idea that someone like Val—powerful, desirable, worthwhile—could be into someone like him had pulled the blinders over his eyes.

It was that thought that snapped him out of his self-pity spiral.

Alastor.

“Fuck,” Angel cursed, raking his hands through his hair and resuming his pacing. “Where the fuck is Alastor? He shoulda been back by now. He can’t still be out, helpin’ that Mimzy broad.”

Angel chewed at the tip of his finger and paced around the living room, the pig following his every step. He knew it was ridiculous to worry about Alastor. He was an all-powerful angel for fuck’s sake! He could take care of himself. At least, that was the line Angel had been feeding himself for the past few weeks as Alastor had been going about his mission of bailing out that bitch Mimzy at every turn. But something about all of this—Val’s unexpected appearance, pilfering through all their shit, and Alastor out way past his bedtime—spelt not good in his mind.

“This is crazy, right?” Angel said, directing the question down at the piglet. “Alastor’s a big boy. He can manage his own shit. Definitely doesn’t need me.”

The pig just blinked at him with his beady, little eyes.

Angel sighed, tugging at his hair. “But what if he’s in trouble? He don’t know this place well enough to keep his nose clean. What if he’s actually fucked somethin’ up bad and don’t know it?”

The pig sat down on his butt and started licking his hoof.

Angel went on, his anxiety growing with each word. “Not like I can help him if he can’t help himself. But what the fuck’s all this shit with Val? Val’s my problem. I let him in. And now if that hits back at Alastor, it’ll be all my fault.”

The pig shuffled his snout down until it was pressed against the rug. He opened his little jaws and started chewing on stray threads.

“Al’s always looked out for me since he’s been here and he doesn’t have to. Now he’s all up his own ass with this Mimzy cow—can’t see how she’s treatin’ him like a cum rag. And Val too? It reeks a’ somethin’ fishy.” Angel frowned down at the pig, who had now moved from eating the carpet to gnawing at Angel’s boot. Angel sighed and stooped down to pick him up. Cradling the creature in his arms, he murmured, “Maybe…he needs someone to watch his back too. Like a friend.”

The pig licked his hand and for the first time since Mimzy had barrelled into his and Alastor’s life, Angel smiled a genuine smile. He petted the little pig between the ears, his heart warming as the creature burrowed into his palm, snuffling against the short fur lining his hands.

“You’re right, lil’ guy,” Angel said, gently placing the piglet down on the couch, where he immediately curled up into a ball on the cushion, snorting softly. Angel stood up, his drowsiness well and truly banished, replaced instead with renewed vigour. “Alastor needs my help and he’s gonna get it whether he likes it or not.”

Angel strode for the door, stepping over upended vases and cutlery strewn across the rug. He didn’t even pause to grab a jacket, just leapt right through the foyer and down the steps, his blood burning with determination.

Chapter Text

It took Angel a few missed turns to remember the way to the Doo-Wap, but as soon as he heard the burring of brass, he knew he was on the right track. He followed the jazz like a trail of bread crumbs until the club came into view. As he approached the entrance, he vaguely worried about how he’d get into the club if the bouncer tried giving him trouble like last time. He didn’t have a spooky angel by his side to streamline the process this time. But all his worries were for nought, as it soon became clear to him, the closer he got, that security’s attention was on a different disturbance. A group of shark demons were all clustered around the entrance, arguing with the small posse of bouncers holding them back.

“C’mon, Doug,” one shark barked. “Ya can’t keep protectin’ that broad forever!”

“We can’t have you comin’ in, causin’ trouble!” the bouncer shot back, his arms held out wide and chest puffed out as the group continued to encroach on the entrance.

“She’s the one who’s trouble!” another shouted.

They descended into a raucous yelling matching, pushing against each other. Angel took advantage of the situation and slinked right past them, keeping his back plastered to the wall. No one shouted at his back and once he was around the corner and inside, he let out a long breath, sagging with relief. Once he deemed himself in the clear, he snapped his attention onto the crowd of dancers jiggying across the floor. It was just as it had been the first time Angel had seen the club; old-timey music and outfits, partners dancing in time to the band playing an upbeat tune on the stage.

Angel surveyed the crowd, squinting at the sea of flared skirts and dark suits until his eyes landed on a familiar splash of red. His heart leapt into his chest and he immediately started pushing his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes locked on Alastor’s perked ears until he could muscle his way into some space and saw-

Vox.

Angel was brought up short, momentarily stunned as he watched Alastor get twirled in a circle by none other than his and Val’s perpetual third wheel.

“The fuck?” he muttered under his breath.

Of everything he’d expected to find tonight, Alastor out on a date with Vox hadn’t been among them. Angel inched his way closer, sticking to the edge of the crowd. The nearer he drew, the more the scene shifted. While Vox certainly looked pleased as punch, holding Alastor round the waist and dancing with gusto, Alastor appeared uncharacteristically sluggish, his feet dragging and his smile worn around the edges. He looked the way Angel felt after a bender: totally dead to the world.

Angel made out Vox’s voice over the thrum of the music. “I’m really glad I was able to catch you here tonight, Alastor.”

Alastor nodded, his head lolling on his neck as Vox dipped him low enough for his hair to brush the floor. “Mm? Oh, yes. Such luck.”

“I got a little worried,” Vox went on, pulling Alastor back upright. “When I kept not seeing you in the Playboy district, I thought maybe you’d moved on somewhere?”

“Certainly not,” Alastor replied, wobbling on his feet. He reached out, grasping Vox’s shoulders for support, which only served to make Vox grin wider.

“That’s good, ‘cause, you know, I’ve really been wanting to see you…”

“You’re seeing me right now!” Alastor chirped.

They’d stopped dancing to the same rhythm as everyone else, Vox’s feet merely shuffling slightly on the spot as he leered at Alastor, who cocked his head to the side, a ripple of static sounding from his throat. Angel watched Vox’s hands tighten around Alastor’s waist and decided to fuck eaves dropping. He marched towards them as Vox kept talking.

“Yeah, and I’d like to see way more of you from now on.”

“Of course. We demons are always looking to make new friends, after all,” Alastor joked, dropping a conspiratorial wink at Vox that made Angel want to rip his own hair out.

“Yeah,” Vox breathed, pulling Alastor in close until he was stood between Vox’s feet. He was so close, Angel could see the glow of his screen casting blue light along Alastor’s face. “But I think we could be something a little more than friends, you know what I mean?”

For the first time, a flicker of unease passed over Alastor’s face, his ears flicking back. “I’m not sure I do.”

“I mean, we’re both special, right?” Vox said, eagerness picking up his voice and hurling it at Alastor’s face. “I knew it as soon as I saw you, and I’m climbing the ranks faster than any sinner ever has! Together, we could-“

Finally, Angel crossed the distance between them and grabbed Vox’s wrist, wrenching his hand back from Alastor’s hip. “Look, pal, he’s not interested,” he barked into Vox’s startled screen. “Take a hint, already. Or better yet, take a hike.”

Angel planted his lower hand against Vox’s chest and shoved him back, causing Vox to release Alastor and stumble a few steps back. His eyes flashed with recognition before his expression settled into a deep scowl. It was a look Angel had never seen on Vox before, such a far cry from his usual charming grin that he was taken aback for a moment. What a difference it made not to have Val between them.

“Angel?” Alastor said, his bleary eyes widening as he took him in. “What in heavens are you doing here?”

“Good question,” Vox sniped, his eyes narrowing. A crackle of electricity zapped from his antennae and down his body, fizzling out once it reached the floor. “What are you doing here, Angel Dust? Don’t you have something to snort?”

Angel’s hands balled up into fists by his side, anger pulsing through him as he used his extra height to loom over Vox. “No, but I got an ass to whoop if you don’t buzz on outta here.”

Vox scoffed, an incredulous smile blooming across his screen. “And just what makes you think I’d listen to you? You’re just Val’s pet project. The guy he’s convinced is dumb enough to actually spread his legs for a camera ‘cause he knows junkies like you will do anything for a quick fix.”

The words were arrows aimed precisely at all the chinks in Angel’s armour, piercing him with deadly accuracy. He opened his mouth, trying to formulate some kind of response but nothing would come out besides a few choked wheezes. Vox’s words had well and truly taken the wind out of his sails.

Of course, Val had been quite open about wanting Angel to star in his movies and build up this porno empire he was certain would be the next big thing in Hell, but Angel had still thought Val had some interest in him outside of all that. In a way, it had been flattering—that Val thought he was so hot he could rake it in big time in front of the camera? But was it really his looks that had drawn Val in? Or was it as Vox said, that Val only saw a desperate addict, perfectly mouldable to do whatever he wanted with the promise of a little pixie dust at the end of it?

The answer was plain as day and both of them knew it.

For once, Angel couldn’t think of anything to snap back with. Vox smirked, a tiny jolt of static zipping from his antennae as he eyed Angel smugly.

“That’s what I thought,” Vox sniffed, straightening up his vest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-“

He reached out towards Angel’s arm, possible to push him or shove him out of the way. Angel would never know, as Alastor chose that moment to step forward and catch Vox’s wrist, his bright red claws stark against his sleeve.

“You are excused,” Alastor said brightly, the fatigue wiped from his face and replaced with a thousand-watt smile. “Excused from ever speaking to us again!”

Vox staggered back at the blinding force of Alastor’s grin. Angel, too, had to squint against the radiance flowing off of him and wondered if Alastor was injecting a sprinkle of angelic ire into the look. Angel stayed silent, his mouth hanging open as Alastor stepped in front of him. Had he not been decked out in his demon disguise, Angel could perfectly picture his white and blue feathered wings sprouted from his back shielding him, just as they had against Giro and his goons all those months ago.

“Alastor-” Vox tried but Alastor held up a staying hand, commanding him to silence.

“No, no, Vox. I think you’ve said plenty,” Alastor chimed.

“Alastor,” Vox barrelled on, holding his hands in front of him beseechingly, “I’m sorry but facts are facts. All that stuff I was saying before? It’s true. You’re not like anyone else down here! You’ve got something special. Something that could take you to the top. Val and I are already on our way to being overlords, you’re just holding yourself back by hitching your wagon to him.” He gestured to Angel with a scoff, raising Angel’s hackles. It was bad enough he was stood there in his rumpled work clothes, he didn’t need some square telling him how low on the food chain he was. “You deserve someone who’s on your level.”

The way he pressed a hand to his chest a smiled sincerely at Alastor told Angel just who he thought that someone was.

But Alastor merely laughed. It wasn’t his usual manic giggle but a deep, grating chuckle in the back of his throat. Low and menacing in a way Angel had never heard. Nor Vox, if the way his eyes widened and his shoulders hiked up to the vents on the sides of his TV head were any indication.

“Believe me,” Alastor said, leaning forward and trailing a claw along the bottom of Vox’s screen, “you are nowhere near my level, sinner.”

He leaned back and Vox blinked in bemusement. He rubbed at his screen where Alastor had touched him, the pixels that made up his face fuzzing over briefly.

“Wha-?”

“That was your queue to leave, Vox!” Alastor said, looping his arm through Angel’s. He wiggled his fingers over his shoulder with a cheery, “Toodle-oo!” Then he was dragging Angel away, leaving Vox to stare after them, looking like a guy who’d just been dumped at the prom.

Angel couldn’t help but flip him the bird before they were swallowed up by the crowd. They left the dancefloor and rounded into the hallway Angel recognised from their first night here. Mimzy had led them this way backstage to the dressing rooms, but it was just him and Alastor in the smoggy shadows then. Once the noise of the crowd drifted to the background, Alastor stopped and untangled his arm from Angel, who immediately raked in a long breath.

“Wow, Al. Thanks for stickin’ up for me like that.”

But Alastor waved his words away with a flick of his wrist. “Never mind all that. What are you doing here? Do you have any idea what ungodly hour it is?”

“I could say the same to you,” Angel shot back, crossing his upper arms over his chest. “You never came home. I was getting’ worried! Like my lil’ girl was out on the town past curfew!”

Alastor’s eyebrows drew together at this, though his smile stayed rigidly in place. “A most unflattering analogy. And unnecessary! We both know there’s nothing down here that can hurt me.”

“That don’t mean you can’t still get into trouble.” Angel lowered his voice and pulled Alastor by the elbow even further away from the bustle of the main room. He lowered his voice to a murmur and went on. “Look, Al, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell ya. It’s about Val. He-“

“Alastor! There you are!”

Angel closed his eyes and groaned as the nasally voice crashed through the quiet hallway. A moment later, tromping footsteps were thumping against the floorboards, then Mimzy was upon them, barrelling between them to hug Alastor’s arm. She squeezed him, her plush tits ballooning against the low collar of her dress as she pressed in close to Alastor and batted her eyelashes up at him.

“Just the man I was lookin’ for,” Mimzy said, her voice syrupy sweet.

Angel glared at her over Alastor’s shoulder, but Alastor merely cocked his head to the side. “Mimzy? I thought you said you were heading home for the night?”

“Well, I was,” Mimzy began, rolling her eyes. “But then I bumped into Tony at the back door. He tried ambushin’ me, bein’ all rough n’ tough with his big, scary friends behind him. I just managed to lock the door and get back in here.”

Angel thought of the men all clustered outside the entrance, clambering to get in, and frowned.

Alastor just looked perplexed as he stared down at her. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Mimzy crowed, sweeping her blonde curls back from her face. “Can ya believe it? What a low life! Ain’t he got anythin’ better to do than run around, botherin’ a lady all night?”

“I don’t see no lady to bother,” Angel grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Mimzy ignored him, continued to focus her attention on Alastor. She released his arm to clasp her hands together before her, batting her lashes so fast Angel thought she might take off. “Could ya do a gal a favour and give him the boot?”

Angel’s jaw stiffened while Alastor’s ears drooped, some of that earlier weariness seeming to seep back into him.

“Again? But I already chased him off earlier.”

“And now he’s back,” Mimzy snapped back, a hard-edge slicing through her honeyed words for just a moment. At Alastor’s slow blink, she forced the smile back on her face, patting his arm. “I’m just sayin’, if you busted out a lil’ bit a’ that angel magic, he wouldn’t be a problem no more! Then you wouldn’t have to keep doin’ this.”

The frustration that had been building up in Angel all night snapped in that moment. Just as Alastor had done for him earlier with Vox, Angel stepped in front of him, nudging Alastor behind him. It was far easier to loom over Mimzy than it had been with Vox, glaring down at her short frame from feet above, though she hardly looked put out, her angry stare locking onto his without hesitation.

“Or,” Angel spat, “you could stop fuckin’ around and pay this guy the money you owe him instead a’ sickin’ Alastor on all your problems! Maybe you don’t give a shit about keepin’ Al’s secret but I do. Whattaya think’s gonna happen if he just blasts every creep in Hell to smithereens?”

Mimzy, far from looking concerned, merely waved Angel’s concerns away and replied, “Eh, you worry too much! What’s the point a’ havin’ all that righteous power at your pretty fingertips if you’re not usin’ it?”

She aimed this last question past Angel, who glanced over his shoulder to see Alastor wilting against the wall. The sight of him like that, so droopy and uncharacteristically Alastor had Angel’s fists clenching tighter.

“I’m afraid Angel’s right, Mimzy dear,” Alastor said. “Smiting the occasional hellspawn in self-defence can be excused but I really don’t want to be causing any undue stress!”

“Oh, it’s no problem!” Mimzy assured him, smiling brightly. “Now, come on. We ain’t got all night! I wanna get back out there for cocktail hour and I can’t do that if Tony n’ his goons are still sniffin’ around.”

She arched an eyebrow, waiting expectantly, and Angel heard Alastor let out a small sigh before stepping forward. Angel blocked him on instinct, throwing an arm out to bar his path. The alarm bells were blaring in his head, that stupid voice of reason he was usually too high to hear straight breaking through to shake its head.

“Alastor,” Angel began desperately, grabbing Alastor’s upper arms and staring him in the eye. “Don’t do this. You know it ain’t right.”

Alastor was quiet for a moment, staring into Angel’s face. Angel could see his own worried reflection in the sheen of Alastor’s glassy red eyes. He wondered when was the last time he’d had so much concern for someone other than himself and thought probably not since he was alive.

Eventually, Alastor just shook his head, his ears drooping like a pair of old lettuce leaves. “You don’t understand. It’s been so long…She’s my friend.”

The word came out of his throat scratchy, the radio filter coating his voice slipping for just a moment. Long enough for Angel to hear the ragged desperation clinging to that one sound. He gazed at Alastor, his grip on his arms slackening.

“And what about me?” he whispered. “What am I?”

Alastor’s pupils flicked back and forth between Angel’s eyes, his brow furrowing further. He opened his mouth but before he could answer, Mimzy’s voice was piercing the air between them yet again.

“Look, doll, he’s right,” she cut in, leaning her elbow into Alastor’s side. The way she smirked up at Angel, so smugly and confidently, as though she knew exactly how this whole interaction was going to play out and was pleased with the results, had him gritting his teeth. She patted Alastor’s shoulder without looking at him and explained, “You don’t understand. Alastor here likes takin’ care a’ me. Ain’t that right, Al?”

She and Angel both glanced up at Alastor at the same time, but instead of meeting Mimzy’s gaze, he was staring straight at Angel. It was an intent expression, like he was looking at an abstract piece of art and trying to decipher the meaning in it. Angel just stared back at him, trying to press his feelings into Alastor through sight alone.

You don’t gotta do this. Not for her or anyone else. Don’t let her take advantage of you. Please don’t do this.

“Al?” Mimzy pressed, her smile slipping some as she squinted up at Alastor.

She dug her elbow further into Alastor’s side until he glanced down at her, blinking owlishly. Angel squeezed his arms, trying to draw Alastor’s gaze back to him but all it served to do was make his smile waver at the edges.

“I…” Alastor trailed off, his fingers twitching around the stick of his cane.

Just as Angel was on the precipice of physically hauling Alastor away, tucking him under his arm and marching the two of them home, angelic powers be damned, there was a shout from the dancefloor. All three of them turned towards the sound in unison as the music abruptly cut off, the horns of the band dying out with a chorus of squeaky burrs. A voice roared over the caucus of startled patrons and the sound of furniture crashing to the ground.

“Mimzy!” a husky voice yelled out. “I know you’re in there, you lousy bitch! You can’t hide behind your boy toy forever!”

Angel opened his mouth to suggest—or maybe demand—that he and Alastor get the hell out of there, when the first gunshot rang out.

Living in the neighbourhood Angel did, or just anywhere in Hell, really, he’d heard his fair share of stray gunshots. Neighbours were never perfect and that was certainly the case in his dingy apartment, where half the tenants were dodging gangsters and the other half were the gangsters. So, his first instinct was to hit the floor, but he ignored that instinct and reached for Alastor instead. Something told him Heaven didn’t see a lot of shootouts and the last thing he needed when he was trying to convince Alastor to listen to him was for the idiot to get his head blown off.

But before his lower hands could close around Alastor’s coat, another shot tore through the air. Angel’s many eyes caught a flash of light, something small and shiny heading straight his way. He wondered if he was about to experience his first death since overdosing in his Brooklyn apartment, but before he could so much as breath, a flash of light briefly blinded him. Heat grazed his face, shearing through his fur and cutting across the skin beneath. Angel’s hand flew to his cheek of its own accord, his grip on Alastor slipping as he staggered back a step.

He heard Mimzy’s gasp before blinking, bringing the world back into focus. The hallway slowly retook its shape, the cursing and shouting floating to his ears from the next room over. Angel’s heart hammered against his chest as he found himself staring at a wall of white, dripping with blue. Another beat and then the wall was moving, the shape of it revealing itself as feathers, row upon row of them, all gleaming with a kind of sunlight that was impossible to find in their realm. His eyes flickered across to the back of Alastor’s head, his hair still red, the blackened tips whipping around his shoulders.

Mimzy stared up at him in awe, her mouth hanging open, much the same as she had when he’d shown his angelic visage to her the first time. Her back was pressed to the ring of Alastor’s wing curled around her, the feathers slowly lifting as Alastor tucked his wing back in place. The other was fanned out before them, casting a shimmery shield of golden dust before Angel.

Alastor glanced at him, the mix of his red demon disguise and his angel’s wings out painting a confusing picture before Angel’s eyes.

“Angel,” Alastor murmured, not blinking as he examined his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Angel breathed, his blood still pounding in his ears. “I-I’m fine. Just a scratch.”

He lowered his hand and the air stung his cheek, making him wince. A glance down at his hand showed dots of red staining his white fur.

Alastor’s eyes widened and he snatched Angel’s hand in his own, his gaze darting between the blood on his palm and the small gash on his cheek. “You’re hurt,” he said in a hushed voice.

Angel tried to smile reassuringly but his mouth felt wobbly on his face, adrenaline making him woozy. He felt just as ready to faint as he did to burst into tears like a little girl. Getting shot at would do that to you.

“Al, I’m fine-“

“Holy shit,” Mimzy wheezed, cutting him off. Angel glared at her as she doubled over, hand pressed to her cleavage as she raked in breath after breath. After a moment of this, she straightened up, her cheeks flushed as she honked out a relieved laugh. “Now, that was a close call! Oh, Alastor, ain’t I just the luckiest gal to have a big, strong man like you around? I-“

“I think it’s time Angel and I took our leave,” Alastor said blandly, cleaving Mimzy’s words straight through the middle, his tone heavy and final as the fall of a guillotine.

Angel blinked at him, his astonishment mirrored on Mimzy’s face as she stared at him, startled, for a moment before she rolled her eyes and blew out a raspberry.

“Oh, Alastor. You kidder, you-“

“I’m not joking,” Alastor replied. His wings vanished into a fizzle of sparkling dust, leaving him in his sinner disguise once more, though his gaze remained steely. He stepped between Angel and Mimzy, keeping his hand locked around Angel’s. “It was all well and good when your tomfoolery was only affecting me. I can handle it. But I won’t have you putting Angel at risk. I won’t.”

Angel stared openly at Alastor’s profile, the ever-present curl of his smile, his ears pressed back against his skull, his red eyes flattened to half-moons as he leered down at Mimzy’s frazzled face. His heart refused to settle into a regular beat, though he figured the adrenaline had nothing to do with it this time.

“Aw, don’t be so serious, Alastor!” Mimzy exclaimed. “No one got hurt. What’s the big deal?”

“You both were nearly shot,” Alastor snapped. “And I know you remember just how much that hurts.”

Mimzy’s hand drifted to her shoulder, rubbing over the spot, seemingly without decision. She shook her head after a moment, balling her hand into a fist at her side. “So, what? I lived, didn’t I? You’re not tellin’ me you’re seriously bailin’ on me now? What about Tony? He’s still shootin’ it up out there!”

She gestured to the open hall, where, indeed, the crack of more gunshots, shouting, and general chaos could be heard. Mimzy’s pursed lips and raised eyebrow seemed to say, Well?

But Alastor wasn’t biting. He tipped his chin up and hoisted his cane to his side, saying in a clipped tone, “You’re a charming woman, Mimzy. I’m sure you and your silver tongue can work it out yourselves. Might I suggest trying to appeal to Tony’s better side? I’m sure he’ll come around.” Turning from her slack jaw, he looked to Angel, his smile softening a fraction. “Come along, Angel.”

Alastor squeezed his hand and when he started walking further down the hall, Angel followed, towed along in his wake. Behind them, Mimzy sputtered and stomped her foot on the hardwood floors.

“Wha-? Well, fine! Be a lil’ yellow sissy! See if I care, angel boy.”

Angel gritted his teeth as the words fell on his ears but Alastor’s stride didn’t falter once. He kept his grip on Angel’s hand until they were out the back door and stepping into a dingy alley. But Angel breathed in the smoggy night air with relief, pressing a hand to his chest over the rapid drumming of his heart. He never wanted to see that fucking club again as long as he lived.

“Alastor,” he gasped, reaching for the padded shoulder of his jacket. “Are you-?”

“I’m sorry,” Alastor said quietly, making Angel’s hand freeze.

He frowned at the back of his head, the curtain of Alastor’s hair blocking his face from view.

“Whattaya talkin’ about?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Alastor said, finally turning around. Though his smile was still in place, his eyes were hooded and mournful, more sorrow packed into those red peepers than Angel had ever seen on him. “You tried telling me about Mimzy but I didn’t hear you. It’s difficult, you see. She and I were such dear friends in life. I haven’t had someone like that in so long.”

Angel frowned, Alastor’s words planting seeds of unease in the pit of his stomach. “What about up in Heaven?”

Alastor said nothing for a long moment, his face unreadable. Eventually, he straightened up, his smile smoothing out some. “I just wish it hadn’t taken you nearly perishing before my eyes to realise it. I would have been a poor excuse for a guardian angel had that happened.”

He laughed to himself, the sound falling from his lips like the merry chiming of a bell.

Angel knew a side step when he saw one but decided not to push. There was a far more pressing matter begging for attention at the front of his mind. He opened his mouth to begin the shit show that was explaining everything that had happened back at the apartment when a sweet scent wafted by his nostrils. Angel inhaled once and narrowed his eyes, his blood boiling beneath the skin.

To Alastor, he smiled and said, “Hey, why don’t you check out that brawl at the front a’ the club? Wanna make sure the two a’ us can get home in one piece, yeah?”

Alastor cocked his head to the side but simply shrugged, his smile remaining fixed in place. “But of course! I’ll clear the way for you, dear.”

He dipped at the waist in a gallant bow, then vanished between blinks, leaving Angel alone in the alleyway. For all of three seconds.

“Whattaya doin’ here, Val?” Angel growled, turning on the spot.

From the shadows a trail of pink smoke floated out, followed by a pair of gleaming red eyes. Then Val was stepping into the light, arms crossed languidly over his long body, draped in the mink of his wings.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Val purred, his lips parting in a grin around his cigarette. “I came to see you. My favourite little bitch.”

Angel bit through the bullshit, stamping across the space between them and jabbing a finger at Val, but refusing to touch him. He’d done way too much of that already.

“You got a lotta nerve showin’ your face around me after that stunt you pulled,” Angel spat, so worked up his shoulders shook with the urge to drive his fist into Val’s glasses and punch that smug, fuckin’ look off his face.

Val just rolled his eyes, carelessly swatting Angel’s hand aside. “Oh, please. I don’t know why you’re getting so pissy with me. I didn’t even do anything to you.”

“You roofied me, you asshole!”

“That’s what the pig was for,” Val sighed, sounding exasperated as though Angel was the one being difficult. “Besides, you’re still in one piece, aren’t you? You’re welcome.”

“Just what were you lookin’ for in there, anyway?” Angel pressed, refusing to get sidetracked by Val’s fuckery. The few feet of height Val had on him and the withering look he was casting his way wouldn’t deter him this time. “If you think I got some safe stuffed with a million bucks squirreled away somewhere, you’re fat outta luck.”

Val hummed a laugh, his eyes dipping as he took a drag from his cigarette and leaned forward. Angel instinctively took a step back, his body thumping against the hard brick wall. Val planted a hand beside his head and leaned down, his face an inch from Angel’s. This close, that sweet aroma of his was nearly overpowering, filling Angel’s head and making his eyes sting with tears.

“I know you and that little, red fucker are hiding something from me,” he murmured, smoke drifting from his mouth to curl around Angel’s head. Angel pressed his lips into a firm line, his lungs screaming for air but he refused to let any more of Val into him. “No one just drops into Hell with a power bank that big without anybody knowing about it.”

Angel bared his teeth and shoved Val’s shoulders, forcing him back a few steps. Angel wiped his palms on his pants, heaving deep, furious breaths that stung worse than any grazing bullet ever could.

“I don’t care what you think,” he snapped. “You leave me and Alastor alone, ya hear me?”

Val’s eyes narrowed to glowing slits, his wings rippling at his back. “Don’t be an idiot, Angel, baby. You could have everything you ever want with me. Don’t throw it away over one little roofie.”

Angel thought back to the him of a few weeks ago that had first met Val, so moony-eyed and excited that someone so handsome and well-connected could take an interest in someone like him, penniless and cheap. He thought about all the bullshit he’d put up with—having his dates crashed by Vox, Val’s interest in Alastor, feeling like a trailer being towed around in his own relationship—and he wanted to smack himself. Maybe he wasn’t worth more than that, but he’d rather take living in his shitty apartment with Alastor’s manic smile to greet him every morning than living it up in some high-rise with someone who didn’t give two shits about him.

“I’m done bein’ your lil’ pet project,” Angel said, chewing Vox’s words up and spitting them back at Val with added venom. “So, you can take all your shit and fuck off with it, ‘cause I’m done.”

Val didn’t react right away, just tilted his chin up and stared down at Angel without the mask of his pretty words. He glared until he shrugged and said in a clipped voice, “Fine.” He strutted down the alley, the cape of his wings swaying behind him.

Angel tensed as Val passed him, bracing himself for one of his arms to snake out and shank him in the gut, or cut his throat, or any other number of things he’d seen done to suckers on these streets in the past. But Val didn’t touch him, just walked straight past Angel, only stopping at the mouth of the alley to glance at him over his shoulder.

“I know I don’t need to say it, but it feels wrong not to, so here goes. You’ll regret this,” he sang in a cheery tone, breaking off into a cackle as Angel just stared at him. Wiggling his fingers in farewell, Val called out, “I’ll be seeing you, baby.”

He blew Angel a kiss, then was gone, sauntering around the corner until he vanished from sight, the last bit of him Angel glimpsed the striped fur lining his wings.

As soon as he was gone, Angel’s shoulders drooped, the righteous fury and adrenaline he’d been riding collapsing to give way to the slow, heavy thudding of his heart. He sighed, scrubbing the heels of his hands against his weary eyes. He was about ready to collapse and call it a night. Getting drugged, shot at and breaking up with someone all in one night was about his limit, he’d decided. Sucking in a breath, he forced his shoulders back and his head up as he marched out of the alley and onto the street.

The corner held a streetlamp, casting a yellow glow on the racked sidewalk as Angel approached it. His shadow stretched out, the light around his silhouette seeming to glow brighter. A moment later, there was a pop of air, then the gentle flapping of wings above him.

Alastor’s shiny white shoes touched down on the ground before him, his blue suit seeming to glow in the darkness. His wings were fanned out at his back, a shining array of feathers framing his slim body. He tipped his head to the side, his halo briefly flashing with the movement, and blinked at Angel with his deep magenta eyes.

“Alright, Angel?”

His voice was mild but his gaze was intense, trained on Angel, flicking up and down the length of him as though checking him over.

Angel gave a tired smile in response. How much of that Alastor had seen and heard, he didn’t know, but seeing him out of his demon disguise, knowing that he was invisible to the rest of the world but Angel was a comfort. It told him that Alastor’s attention was focused solely on him, not the shit show they were leaving behind him.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” Angel replied, wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing the thin sleeves of his shirt. The cool evening air had him shivering slightly, and he once again berated himself for not seizing a jacket on his way out of the house. “But I got a lot to fill you in on.”

Alastor hummed and reached for the button of his coat. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it on our walk home. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a tall glass of rye and some smooth tunes to see me our for the-“ He plucked a pocket watch from inside his coat and glanced at the ticking face. “-two remaining hours we have until sunrise.”

He shrugged his coat off and stepped close to drape it around Angel’s shoulders, smiling softly to himself. Angel watched in rapt silence, the glimmer of Alastor’s halo catching in his eyes, the pink strands of his hair brushing against his alabaster skin in the night breeze. Alastor straightened the coat up then stepped back, taking the warmth wafting from his body with him.

“There we go,” he announced, then cocked his elbow out and grinned up at Angel. “Shall we?”

Angel snorted but placed his hand in the crook of Alastor’s arm despite himself, matching his stride as the two of them set off on the lengthy walk through Hell’s streets.

“Y’know I’m gonna look crazy to everyone else, right?”

“The prices we pay,” Alastor replied loftily.

Angel smiled, a small ember burning inside him, warming him from the core to the tips of his toes. He squeezed Alastor’s arm through his sleeve. “You know somethin’, Al? You’re pretty sweet.”

Alastor glance up at him, his ear twitching as his smile widened and he answered, “Well, I am an angel. It comes with the territory, I suppose.”

“S’pose so,” Angel chuckled, surprised at himself that he could be smiling despite all that had happened that night. Alastor had always had that effect on him though. “Oh, by the way, we got a new roommate.”

Alastor’s head snapped around so fast, Angel heard his neck crack. “We what?”

Angel laughed, holding up his lower hands. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. You guys’ll get along just great, I know it.”

Alastor let out a gurgle of disgruntled radio static, making Angel laugh harder. As they kept walking, arm in arm, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Maybe even months. It was almost enough to make him believe that some kind higher power really had been smiling down on him at some point, tossing him a stray angel. Maybe things were finally looking up for him.

For the both of them.

Valentino gazed across the coffee table at the woman sat before him, lazily taking another drag from his cigarette. The little space deemed his office was hardly the luxurious business spot Vox had been talking it up to be, but he supposed with a new coat of paint and some topless servers, he could make it into something half-decent. What he hadn’t been expecting during this ‘building up’ period as Vox kept calling it, was to have any visitors dropping in who weren’t interested in baring it all in front of a camera. Good talent really was so hard to come by.

Fuck, Angel would have been perfect for it too. Val could just picture his long limbs decked out in silk stockings and fishnets, leather harnesses shaping the ample fluff on his chest, and mascara shaping those sinful eyes. With Val’s hands on him, that lousy slut could’ve had every sinner in Hell opening up their wallets to throw cash at magazines and movies showcasing him with more dicks stuffed in him than anyone knew what to do with.

But, of course, Angel had fucked that up for the both of them by being such a prissy bitch. Val’s blood still boiled remembering Angel’s hateful glare and order to go kick rocks. He’d meant what he said about making Angel regret that. Which brought him to…

“Let me get this straight,” Val droned, tapping some ash into the glass tray on the low table between them. “You want my protection from some guy who’s got it out for you but you’re not interested in getting in front of a camera?”

The woman before him—short and with all the charisma of a loaf of bread, so it wasn’t like she’d be raking anything in for him anyway—crossed her legs and primly adjusted her skirt.

“You got it,” she said, tossing a flip of blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’ll get in front of a crowd, no problem, but you gotta work to get your hands on these bad boys,” she grinned, cupping her breasts through her dress.

Val just glared at her, unimpressed. “Okay, so remind me why the fuck I should care?”

She dropped her grin and leaned back against the leather couch with a sigh. “’Cause I saw you at the club the other night, talkin’ to that no-good spider bitch. Angela Crust, or whatever the fuck.”

She flapped her hand dismissively but her words caught Val’s attention. He mashed his cigarette out in the ashtray and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“You mean Angel Dust?”

The woman snapped her fingers. “That’s the one. Talk about a waste a’ space! And a liar to boot. Got all in my old pal Alastor’s head about me.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and Val’s excitement only grew.

“Alastor? You know him?”

The woman smiled slyly at his reaction and Val realised this was the card she’d been meaning to play this whole time.

“Do I know him? You bet I do. And I’d be glad to tell ya all about it if you do this one itty, bitty thing for lil’ ol’ me.”

She clasped her hands together and batted her lashes at Val, who clicked his tongue impatiently and waved for her to get on with it.

“Alright, fine. If you have the juice you say you do then I’ll get that puta off your back, no problem. Miss…?”

“Mimzy,” she supplied with a sharp-toothed grin. Her black eyes sparkled as she flicked a glance at Val’s open packet of cigarettes. He rolled his eyes as he offered one and she plucked it right out, pinching it between gloved fingers. “And trust me,” she cooed, leaning forward for Val to hold his lighter up to her lips, “you’ll be very interested in what I got to say.”

The cigarette lit up and Mimzy dragged in a long breath of smoke, blowing it out to join the cloud hanging over their heads.

“Okay then,” Val crooned, threading his fingers together and gesturing with a lower hand for her to go on. “Tell me, then. Tell me all about this old pal, Alastor, of yours.”