Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hell could be cruel- though that was to be expected.

Crimson skies, laden with smog, loomed over the sleepless cities of the Pride Ring; Heaven’s distant glow taunted the damned- forever out of reach. Neon flickers promised luxury in misery, for the right price.

Angel didn’t miss it.

He’d wasted over half an afterlife chasing short-lived highs and barely scraping by, only to find himself in the gutters again come morning. The change in trajectory wasn’t unwelcome- fragile second chances he probably didn’t deserve- but he’d savor them while they lasted.

Even so, mornings were a bitch.

“Alright! I’m up, I’m up!” He grumbled, untangling himself from a nest of limbs and sheets. The banging at his door finally subsided after a few choice words, moving on to torment the next poor soul down the hall.

Angel raked a hand through his mess of hair and fluff- good enough. People would pay to wake up to his bed head (in more ways than one, thank you very much.) Fat Nuggets gave an indignant snort as he hopped back into the disrupted bed.

“Well, sorry for disturbing your beauty sleep,” Angel cooed as the pig dissolved into snores. “Lucky bastard,” he huffed before carefully slipping into the hall.

Coffee. The only thing Hell could provide to make a shitty morning less shitty.

Angel curled into the parlor loveseat, cradling his mug while fighting sleep. The hotel slowly stirred to life around him, Husk eventually shambling in and nudging him for space. As Husk collapsed, Angel draped his legs across the cat’s lap with a playful smirk.

“Mornin’, sunshine-”

Rather than protest, Husk’s tail flicked lazily in response as he steadied his mug on Angel’s shin, ear twitching in acknowledgement.

The quiet was short-lived.

Niffty scuttled up the back of the loveseat- hands outstretched for Angel’s mug, which he narrowly yanked out of reach. She toppled to the floor with a huff.

“Hands off bug- you ain’t gettin’ mine after last time.”

As Niffty pouted, Charlie burst from the kitchen in a babble of half-formed ideas and vague plans; Vaggie trailed behind with a mix of focus and thinly veiled exasperation.

(For a moment, Angel finally understood how Charlie could be the devil’s daughter- though he didn’t care to know whether Lucifer was also a morning person.)

“Ain’t you chipper?” Angel grumbled, mourning the quiet days already lost to Charlie’s buzzing about ‘grand reopenings’ and ‘fresh starts.’

“I know it’s early,” she said apologetically, her energy untouched, “but if we want to put our best foot forward, we have to stay ahead of schedule!”

“...Not until you share whatever you’re huffin’.”

Caring about this stupid hotel- and everyone inside it- was going to be his downfall.

Husk stretched, fur bristling. “Not that I care, but wasn’t this shit Alastor’s idea in the first place?”

Niffty popped out of the kitchen, cackling as she clutched a sloshing coffee pot to her chest. Husk’s ear twitched in irritation before he sighed. “Just feels like you’d wanna drag him down here, too…”

Charlie paused, just long enough to scan the room. “That’s… a great point, Husk.”

“We’ll catch him up later.” Vaggie pressed a hand to her temple with a long sigh. Judging by her mussed hair and pinched expression, Angel gathered she was also a begrudging hostage of their resident early bird. “Let’s just get started.” 

“He’s prolly out ruinin’ some poor bastard’s morning,” Angel waved a dismissive hand. “Y’know, the usual.”

As if on cue, a low thrum of static was punctuated by the shrill shatter of glass splitting the air. Interest piqued, Angel stood with flourish.

“I should’a put money on that one.”

Vaggie shot him a look before rushing after Charlie, who’d already torn off to investigate. Husk grumbled about rebuilding as he downed the rest of his drink.

The bay window lay in pieces as Alastor braced against an agitated opponent- animalistic ears twitching, fawn-like spots stark against the flush of their anger. His cane held them barely a foot away.

“There’s no need to throw a tantrum,” he hummed, cool and unbothered by their irritation. “My, quite an unexpected visit indeed. I had begun to believe you’d been slain by exorcists. My compliments, truly.”

“Imagine my disappointment,” they retorted with a cold glare. “Seven years of quiet, and suddenly you’re here… playing house with a bunch of misfits. It isn’t befitting of you.”

Alastor’s grin sharpened, eyes gleaming with condescension. “Perhaps we shall call it an old habit. A bit of a reminisce into the past, hm?” With a sharp pivot, he threw the newcomer backward into the iron gates lining the courtyard. “Would you not agree?”

The words struck a nerve.

“Don’t you dare!” Fists balled at their sides, the newcomer’s jaw tightened. “Why am I even surprised? How stupid of me to think- after all this time, you haven’t changed at all!”

Now separated by the length of the yard, neither moved to attack again.

“You wound me,” Alastor replied, brushing his coat of shards. “Perhaps I should be grateful you have not fallen to holy arms. Your persistence remains endearing, darling- truly charming.”

“Endearing,” they scoffed, teeth clenched. “After everything I’ve-...” They faltered, chest heaving as they tripped over the weight of racing thoughts.

Angel sighed, slouched against the courtyard pillar, unimpressed. He couldn’t be bothered to track the back-and-forth of the pitiful fight across the yard.

“So, uh, what’s the deal with this one?” he asked with a yawn. “Another friend? Contract with a bad attitude? Must be somethin’ if they’re still standin’ there.”

“I ain’t his fuckin’ keeper,” Husk huffed with indifference, though unease crept in with the reminder of Mimzy’s visit. “If I kept track of every person he’s crossed, I’d have half of Hell… and then some.”

Angel snorted. “Just wonderin’. Figured there’s a reason they haven’t been hung like a string’a Christmas lights.”

Vaggie opened her mouth to scold, then faltered when her eye caught the yard. “Shit, wait- Charlie!”

But the princess had already darted across the lawn, skidding as she planted herself at the edge of the confrontation.

“Hi! So, so sorry to interrupt… this.” She gestured with frazzled energy, her smile strained. “Buuut, we did just rebuild, so maybe tone it down just a teeny tiny bit? Please?”

Neither spoke, and so Charlie offered a hand to the stranger. “Okay, how about this… Hi! I’m Charlie and-”

“Save it. Everyone in Hell’s heard about you and your… Hazbin Hotel… since the last extermination.” When Charlie didn’t lower her hand, their guest sighed at the roadblock. “Right,” they uttered and extended a hand, “I’m-”

“Leaving.” Alastor cut in smoothly, expression demanding their silence at once. “I will be seeing you out now-”

Before he could corral them from the courtyard, Charlie gave a rare stern look- either tell what’s going on, or stop trying to stir the pot.

The swarm of static in the air grew unbearable; Angel fought chills down his spine.

Charlie murmured something too quiet for him to catch, but it seemed to land. The stranger eased with an ear twitch as they finally looked from Alastor to Charlie with intrigue. Alastor’s grin became painfully taut in a way that made Angel uneasy.

Yet, the Radio Demon was silenced- for the moment.

“Why don’t you come in for a moment to… recollect?” Charlie brightened once more as she gestured to the hotel. “Alastor will… fix the window! So we can all take a minute to wind down, yeah?”

Their visitor raised a brow. “...If you insist?” Whether Charlie actually heard was unclear, as she was already reaching for their wrist.

“Great! That’s settled then.” She looked pointedly at Alastor. “The window?”

“As good as new.” The garbled buzz in the air dissipated with a crackling pop as Charlie briskly guided the newcomer toward the hotel.

Husk side-stepped out of their way. Niffty was not so lucky, bowled to the ground as they breezed past, her eye wide as she faceplanted into the carpet.

A pause hung between those remaining on the stoop as Charlie vanished with the stranger. Tense looks were exchanged until Vaggie finally threw up her hands.

“What the fuck was that?!”

“Ah, an interrogation, is it?” Alastor’s chuckle grated like a needle across vinyl. “I cannot say that I’m surprised, but surely I need not recount every monotonous detail of my affairs. Dreadfully dull.”

“Cut the shit. Pentious was thrown halfway across Pentagram with fewer words.” A loaded pause followed, no one daring to touch it. “You hardly laid a hand on this one- so who are they? And what do they want?”

“What they want is of no concern to you,” Alastor said, suddenly sharp and flat. The shattered bay window slotted itself back together in a green flare. “They are no threat to the hotel, rest assured.”

“For someone who talks so much, you never say anythin’ useful, do you?” Angel muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against a pillar.

“Their interruption was- admittedly- unexpected,” Alastor hummed, twisting his cane in thought. “However! They will not be staying long- mark my words.”

“Real fuckin’ reassuring,” Husk growled, ears twitching.

Alastor stepped inside ahead of them, bustling Niffty to her feet.

She scampered off, muttering about bugs (and the apocalypse? Angel decided to shake that one off for his own sanity.)

Into the tension, Angel forced a chuckle. “Right, I mean, Charlie’s not gonna just take in any ol’ sinner because they picked a fight with Al. If that were the case, I’d be due for a rain check any day now-”

Fragments of radio channels scraped the air; shadows crawled across the walls. Alastor tilted his head slowly in Angel’s direction- a silent challenge to even try.

“On second thought, eh, I’ll just assume she took me in for my good looks.”

Charlie practically flew down the foyer stairs with their bewildered visitor in tow.

“Great news, guys!” She brimmed with more energy than before, and Angel wished farewell to whatever peace they’d had left, already anticipating her next words.

“We had a little talk, smoothed things over, and…” Charlie skidded to a stop at the foot of the stairs, beaming with a grand gesture to the newcomer. “Everyone, meet our newest resident… you!”

Into the abrupt silence, Angel groaned.

“It’s too fucking early for this.”

Chapter Text

Three days. 

That’s how long you’d been at the hotel- three loud, chaotic, exhausting days in which productivity had ground to a halt.

Every time you entered the same room as Alastor, tension followed. A glare here, a remark there- arguments igniting in seconds. He’d taunt; you’d twist his words right back, fanning the flames.

By the second day, you’d gained a shadow: one of the hotel residents trailing after you, hovering with clumsy attempts at smoothing interactions.

You hadn’t meant to turn the hotel into a stage for your petty grudge. Hell, you barely remembered why you’d agreed to stay at all. But one thing was certain- you wouldn’t give Alastor the satisfaction of driving you away.

Charlie, ever helpful, had tried pairing you together- with predictably disastrous results. Every task became ammunition; each glance, a spark.

From scheduling to seating arrangements, the hotel fell further from readiness. You snapped at his static-laced humming; he criticized your restless pacing. One look, one comment, and the air soured.

By the third morning, even silence had become a battle. Alastor amused himself by shifting every ribbon and banner you placed. His grin never faltered, but the malice behind it was unmistakable.

The bastard didn’t even try to hide it.

Green light curled around decorations, tugging them from your carefully chosen spot, only to set them down just shy of their original mark. Your jaw clenched as yet another ribbon unraveled- only to settle a hair’s breadth away from its placement.

“Do you mind?” you snapped, arms crossing as you whirled to face him.

“Why, of course not!” Alastor’s voice grated with cheerful static. “It cannot be helped that you lack the proper eye for balance! What a delight to teach you, so that, perhaps, you might be of some use.”

From the other side of the room, Husk- your “chaperone” for the moment- muttered, “For fuck’s sake,” before stomping out.

You ignored him. “Be of use?” you scoffed, heat rushing to your face. “Now you suddenly want my help? How rich! I don’t recall you ever appreciating it when it actually mattered.”

A warble of static flooded the room, and you caught the brief flicker in his expression- with no small satisfaction.

His smile snapped back, sharper than before. “Oh, my dear, that would imply that your efforts have never been helpful,” he ground out the word like a curse. “Rather than a persistent nuisance to my tasks-”

Your nails dug into your arms as you stepped closer. “Nuisance? Are you kidding me?! At least I tried- more than your sorry ass ever gave me!”

The room became taut, every banner and ribbon seeming to hold its breath. Blood rushed to your ears, bitter words blistering on your tongue. For a brief moment, you thought you’d cracked the mask of his composure.

“Ah, but you see,” his voice laced with syrup-sweet distortion, “trying is not quite the same as succeeding, now is it? You still cling to the dashing hope of appraisal- how foolish of you.”

The words scraped raw, pressing against the wound that lingered in your chest- an unyielding reminder of your death.

“Fuck you,” you rasped. For a fleeting moment, you swore there was recognition in his eyes- that he’d pushed too far, said too much.

No- you wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in such hopeless dreaming.

Only then did you notice the audience on the mezzanine. Angel lounged against the railing, arms draped lazily, while Niffty poked her head through the bars below him. Vaggie’s scowl contrasted sharply with Charlie’s anxious fidgeting, and Husk leaned against the banister, drink in hand, radiating pure annoyance.

You were sure you weren’t meant to hear Angel’s snicker. “You think if we lock ‘em both up with your daddy, Alastor’s head will explode?”

Niffty’s eyes gleamed with intrigue.

Charlie stammered, “I think- Don’t… don’t say it like that.”

Angel only shrugged and gestured for her to go on.

“I think we need to find a way to separate them if we want to get anything done,” she paced as she spoke, hands fluttering. “And with the reopening in two days, we’re no more prepared than we were before! So that’s totally not a problem at all!”

Vaggie steadied her girlfriend with a hand on her shoulder. “What if someone took them out for the day? They haven’t gotten to settle in with everything going on… it’ll give us a couple of hours without interruptions, at least.”

Angel sighed with theatrical flair. “Yeah, yeah- fine. I’ll keep ‘em distracted.”

Charlie’s shoulders eased, and she offered a grateful smile. “Thank you.” She dug out a pile of bills from her jacket pocket. “Here, just- take them out, do whatever they want. Please- buy us as much time as you can.”

Angel snapped a mock salute. “You know, we’re in Hell, babes- you really need to get yourself a credit card.” He snorted, already heading down the stairs.

Behind him, Niffty whined- her head wedged in the railing- and the others promptly left Husk to free her, grumbling.

“Hey, Doe-Eyed Dynamite- c’mon, we’re going out,” Angel called from the last step. Your ears pinned flat at the nickname. Alastor only turned away, showing no interest in continuing your argument- for now.

You exhaled, brushing wrinkles from your shirt. “Okay,” you muttered to no one in particular, trailing after Angel. “Not that anyone noticed my efforts anyways.”

“Eh, don’t take it to heart,” Angel said as you caught up, sweeping his hand toward the path ahead. “So- what’re ya feelin’ this fine afternoon in Hell?”

You snorted and shrugged. “I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to be the one ‘distracting’ me?”

Angel jolted slightly, and you gave a sly grin. “You should probably know- deer have very good hearing.”

“Noted,” he shot back with a grin. “Bullshittin’ in a cafe still beats whatever’s happenin’ in there, so let’s roll with that, yeah?”

Without complaint, you let him lead the way into the chaos of Pentagram. You followed, out of place where Angel moved with practiced ease- turning the street into his stage.

Passing comments and the occasional catcall rolled off his shoulders, dissolving into the noise of traffic-jammed streets. He slipped past glaring pedestrians and pests skittering across the sidewalk, as if the obstacles bent to his whim.

“Wait. We’re… going to a cafe, right? Like… a cafe-cafe, with overpriced coffee and shitty Wi-Fi?” you asked abruptly, flinching when a passing hellhound made a crude gesture toward both of you.

“And underpaid employees,” Angel quipped with a hand wave. “The whole package. Why, d’ya got somethin’ better in mind?”

Your ears twitched, heat creeping to your face. “No. Just… wanted to make sure.” You trailed off awkwardly, his smirk curling at your embarrassment.

“Rah-lax. Ain’t even noon yet. No clubs, no bars, no… extracurriculars. Just coffee.”

You fought to keep a straight face, realizing you were probably the only person in Hell that still blushed at the hint of anything taboo. “Great to hear it,” you replied shakily, “...more my speed.”

Angel’s grin eased as he matched your stride. “Don’t be so tense- I ain’t gonna nag you about all the bickerin’, though it’s givin’ me a migraine.” He halted at a narrow side door with a flourish. “But I am gonna pester ya about whatever you got goin’ on with the smug bastard. Could use the ammo.”

You eyed the little cafe tucked away from the noisy street- the scent of coffee rich and alluring, undercut with the sweetness of pastries. Angel nudged you inside.

The cafe was nearly empty, an imp doodled on a scrap behind the counter and a sinner worked on a laptop in the farthest booth, glancing up as you entered.

The imp perked up when you both approached, smiling too cheery for the muted atmosphere. While Angel handled the order, your gaze wandered. Warm lights glowed over mismatched canvases, plush booths lining the walls, and scattered tables crowded with knickknacks.

It was a rare kind of place in Hell- too cozy, too quiet. Most sinners ran loud, crass businesses, glamorized the nightlife- and Hellborns hardly bothered with Pentagram at all.

You placed your own order without much thought, then drifted toward a shelf of hand-packed coffee and a small array of mugs. A crooked handwritten sign read: “Genuine Wrathian Red Clay.”

When you circled back Angel was cramming a wad of bills into the tip jar, waving off the barista’s thanks with casual flair. You slipped into a booth while she tripped over herself with gratitude.

Angel slid into the spot across from you. “Cute lil’ joint, yeah?” His eyes lingered on you. “About’a year ago, I never would’a set foot in this place- too… eh, tame, y’know?”

“Why the change?” you muttered, eyes fixed on the steam curling from your cup, his stare heavy on your shoulders.

“Who knows,” he twirled his straw with the faintest ghost of a smile. “Figured I was due for a change after a few decades or so.”

“I’ve been here longer than you,” you said matter-of-factly, savoring the cup’s warmth- the coffee even smelled decent, another luxury in Hell. “And I’ve never felt the urge to try and become something I’m not.”

“An’ what’s that supposed to mean?” Angel arched his brow.

“Challenging Heaven, killing exorcists… it’s bold,” you shrugged, still avoiding his eye. “Why bother? Hell’s the final stop for people like us.”

“Maybe. But y’know what it’s like bein’ alive and not really knowin’ what comes after. You start thinkin’ about what’s next, just to move through the shit you don’t wanna think about.” He glanced toward the window, into the chaos of Pentagram. “That’s what it feels like, at least. Charlie’s hopeful. Might not pan out how she wants, but it beats livin’ miserable an’ thinkin’ it all ends here.”

Your brows knit as you bit back a retort. Heaven hadn’t been in the cards for you, that much was certain. But you remembered not caring, as well. Life itself was all you’d looked forward to, even knowing it would end. You’d told yourself: you’d be dead, and wouldn’t know either way.

“So what- you keep playing pretend until an exorcist shows up you can’t beat?”

He laughed, flashing a crooked grin. “Guess so. Kinda nice havin’ someone give a damn, even if it’s wishful thinkin’. Beats spendin’ every day thinkin’ about life kickin’ the shit outta ya.”

“It’s a nice thought,” you relented flatly. “But we’re here for a reason. We knew better. I think most people wouldn’t have made the same choices if they knew they’d end up here. You can’t expect change, when they’re just trying to escape all of… this.”

“Yeesh, doll,” Angel shifted back with a snicker. “You don’ give anyone the benefit of the doubt, do ya?”

“I’m just being realistic,” you muttered, hating how every word from him stripped you bare- like he was testing for cracks you didn’t want fixed.

“Charlie’s pretty optimistic, ain’t she?” Angel toyed with his straw. “Then again, she ain’t seen how humans really are when they’re still breathin’.”

“You would think she’s seen enough of them down here to sober up,” you huffed, picking apart your now cold pastry with disinterest. “End of the line, and it’s still just greed and selfishness- people feeding off of others. Humans don’t change.”

“Tell me about it.” Angel’s grin thinned, voice rougher. “Gotta look out for yourself, yeah? ‘Cause nobody else will. Keep your head down, watch the top dog, stay alive- that’s the game, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get me to say, but you can stop.” He hadn’t offered anything in return.

“Just thinkin’ you’re awfully familiar with Al,” Angel drawled, flicking his hand lazily. “Makes a guy wonder what’s boilin’ under that sour attitude.”

Ah.

“If you think I cut some kind of deal with him, you’re on the wrong train.” You slumped back into the booth, ears pinned. Not technically the truth- but not a lie, either.

“Eh, just a guess.” Angel mirrored your posture with a smirk. “But c’mon, doll, you didn’t show up at our door for nothin’.”

You swirled your coffee, eyes locked on your cup. “I… saw the news. Plenty of buzz about him being involved- after I thought he was gone for so long. And hearing he wasn’t, that he got tied up in something as-” your voice caught, frustration thick in your throat. “It was just… infuriating.”

You exhaled, forcing a sip before the cup went cold. “After all this time, it just dragged all the anger back- like it was happening all over.”

“Anger, huh? Sounds heavy.” Angel rested his cheek against his palm, leaning on his elbows as he playfully hummed. “Bet he’d throw a fit if the media mentioned how Adam kicked his ass.” He winked, finger to his lips. “But ya didn’t hear that from me, capische?”

You paused, stomach coiling, despite having seen the smug bastard grinning at you just that morning- very much alive. “What? I… didn’t know that,” you muttered, coughing to smother your slip. The sinner and barista both glanced over at your sudden pitched tone, then just as quickly looked away.

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” Angel’s eyes glittered with amusement. “You saw the news. We all got a lil’ scuffed up, and I do not have the time nor the emotional capacity to unpack all’a that.” He paused, calculating. “...If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you sounded worried just there, yeah?”

You jolted, cheeks burning. “Was this whole conversation just you trying to dig for dirt on me? I didn’t sign up to be your gossip column!”

Angel smirked as he plucked a discarded strawberry off your plate. “Charlie told us not to pry, an’ I love the girl an’ all, but c’mon- good drama don’t just walk through your door every day.”

Your ears flattened and you huffed. “And here I thought you were being friendly.”

“Both can be true at once. I ain’t known you for a few days, but the back-and-forth’s gettin’ old, and since you’re still standin’-” his eyes flickered to the reddish-black stained tear across your chest, making you shift. Damn the afterlife and its quirks. “-Mostly in one piece. Makes me wonder, ‘specially with someone like Al.”

“Call it a grudge.” You brushed him off. “It’s not that interesting.”

“Seems like an awfully heavy grudge… you ain’t workin’ for the Vees, by chance?”

“Fuck no.” Your nose wrinkled, Alastor’s ongoing feud with Vox being something you kept far from. “And that’s exactly why I’m done talking about this. I don’t need to get dragged into the ego clash of two overlords.” You shifted, arms wrapping around yourself as you watched the barista struggle to reach a shelf above her head. “Just drop it.”

He chuckled. “Wrong guy to play coy with, doll.” You nudged your plate closer as he made a grab for another strawberry. “And it might not’ve made headlines, but it looks pretty interesting to me. Unfortunately for you, you’ve picked the nosiest crowd in Hell to air out your little tragedy.”

“Great,” you sighed, long and drawn out. A hundred years of history, unraveling in front of a bunch of strangers. And Alastor? He’d rather die than let that story out- if you were lucky.

The cafe bell jingled.

“This dump’s gotten desperate, huh? Can’t believe they let just anyone in.”

The sinner that slouched through the door- tall, scrappy, almost feral looking- reminded you of a wolf intimidating its prey before the strike.

And of course, he made a beeline for you and Angel.

Great.

“Hope they plan on burnin’ the furniture after you’ve been all over it.”

Angel’s brow twitched, a tiny crack in his usual flair. You had the feeling he’d gotten plenty of this- despite Pentagram’s glamorization of nightlife. “If you’re here to start shit, get lost.”

“C’mon, don’t be so uptight, it’s just a joke, baby.” The sinner’s voice dripped, syrupy and smug. You pressed back against the booth, though his attention stayed fixed on Angel. “So keen on runnin’ your mouth, I could put it to better use.”

“Fuck off.” Angel’s smile had gone brittle. “You don’t jus’ get to come waltzin’ in here yappin’ at people mindin’ their own business.”

“Oh? My mistake, didn’t know workin’ the corner gettin’ fucked on blow suddenly made you royalty. Forgive me, your majesty.” The sinner scoffed, reaching for Angel’s chin; Angel leaned away with a huff.

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of somethin’?” Angel brushed the insult with a sharp flick of irritation. “Go bother someone else.”

“What? Not desperate enough to make a little cash on the side?” The sinner sneered, eyes flick

ing toward you. “Why not bring your friend along? A lot more fun if they ain’t used up like you, anyway. Two for one special, yeah?”

Yeah, no. You’d heard more than enough of that when you were alive.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, sliding out of the booth. You kept your eyes off the sinner, huffing under your breath. “I told you, people never change.”

You hoped Angel would follow, that you could both walk out without incident. But that would’ve been too easy- this was Hell, after all.

You slipped into the aisle, keeping the table between yourself and the creep. Before you could move, something yanked hard- your tail wrenched with a jolt. Your ears flattened with a yelp, growl rising in your throat.

The sound that came from Angel no longer held the same disinterest as the moment before. “Don’t. Fucking. Do. That.”

The room froze- even the barista stilled, as if silence might spare her. But the sinner only laughed, releasing you to spread his arms in mock welcome. “Relax, sweetheart. Plenty of me to go around. Don’ worry, I’ll make sure you both get yours-” he turned to grab you again, the touch turning your stomach.

You tried to wrench free; Angel’s method was quicker. With a searing glare, he drove a heel into the sinner’s shin. He let you go with a recoil. Angel’s heels had a decent bite to them- you hoped it hurt like hell.

“You deaf or just stupid?” Angel snapped, shouldering past the sinner as he tried to herd you toward the door.

“Fucking whore.” The sinner lunged, seizing a fistful of Angel’s hair and wrenching his head sideways. You stumbled back, hands twitching uselessly, afraid you’d only make things worse.

Up close, you realized the sinner wasn’t much taller than Angel- scrawny, wiry, not half as dangerous as he pretended. The shift from annoyance to full irritation told you Angel would be just fine.

“Really? You’re gonna go for the hair? Classy-”

A sharp jolt- Angel drove his elbow back, then swept his leg out beneath him. The sinner toppled into a flimsy table, which splintered beneath him.

You glanced around, heat prickling up your neck in the following silence. The sinner in the corner pretended not to watch, the barista wrung her hands nervously. A few passerby pressed to the windows with interest, and you sank deeper into the sense you didn’t belong.

Angel brushed his hair back with theatrical care. “Tip for next time, sweetheart-” he dragged the word with venom, “don’t start shit you can’t finish.” As he turned away, you caught the mutter under his breath, “or at all, if you can’t fight worth shit.”

He tossed a handful of bills onto the counter. “For the table,” he breathed, then tipped his head toward the door. “C’mon, doll, let’s bounce.”

You nodded; no way in hell you were sticking around.

A few nosy demons ogled as you slipped back onto the street. The smoke and chaos of Pentagram pressed in and for once, you felt comforted by it.

“What? This ain’t a floor show, move it-” Angel flicked a hand at the onlookers.

You fidgeted as you matched his stride, tension still radiating off him. You straightened, tail flicking as you tried to shake off the sensation of being pulled. Smoothing your sleeves, then your shirt, and sleeves again- the silence grew heavier with each step.

“You know,” you murmured at last, eyes fixed on the cracked sidewalk. “You could’ve just walked out. Didn’t have to get yourself into shit over me.”

Angel cut you a sideways glance, silent long enough to let the tension stretch. Then: “I don’t leave people hangin’ if I can help it.”

You shrugged, ears pinned. “I wouldn’t have expected any different, but… thanks. I’ve never been good at dealing with people like that.” Your voice softened. “I used to be a performer, even then I never knew how to handle them. I always had... someone else to step in.” You glanced at him, suddenly feeling small beside him. “So, thank you, really.”

Angel’s smirk returned, softer this time. “People like that, thinkin’ they’re tough shit- the problem is not enough folks willin’ to knock ‘em down a peg. So they think they can do whatever they want-”

“Guess it’s good you’ve got that figured out,” you murmured, gaze sinking back to the sidewalk as your words dried up.

Angel’s grin edged back into mischief. “So… a performer, eh? That a slip up, or have I earned myself a little backstory action?”

Your steps faltered, ears twitching in irritation- partially at him, mostly at yourself. “Consider it being grateful,” you uttered. “Don’t expect more than that.”

Angel looked you over with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Ya know, I don’t see it, you got this… innocent look to ya. Like the type to stay in an’ read or somethin’.”

You shrugged, tossing your head aside, face warming because he wasn’t entirely wrong. You hadn’t liked the life you’d built when you were younger, but the comment still stung. “Gotta do what you gotta do,” you muttered defensively.

“Don’t I know it. But really, don’t sweat all that back there. Charlie’d skin me alive if I botched my babysittin’ gig-” he smirked as you gasped and nudged him with your shoulder, though he barely swayed.

“An’ I ain’t gonna pry,” he said earnestly. His eyes lingered, sharp beneath the promise. “I don’t know what’s got you tangled with Alastor, but… I’m here if ya need it.”

You stared, stunned. “Thank you,” you mumbled, even though he didn’t know half of it. If he’d known the mess you’d held together over the past century, he’d never have offered. You decided to let him have this.

“Y’know, even if you don’t buy the hotel’s cause, ya gotta ease up on the arguin’.” He teased, “Save your fights for your own time.”

You lingered on his words, torn between skepticism and reluctant gratitude. After the storm of the day, the idea that someone- anyone- might see past your anger was… disarming. You knew better than to take people at face value; a lifetime of lessons had drilled it deep. But Angel’s easy confidence, the way he’d stepped in without hesitation, stirred something uncomfortably familiar.

“I don’t make promises,” you murmured, ears folding back. “But… I guess I owe you one. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask, doll.”