Thread by @paperficwriter, New #paperthread! This one started as a conversation with @NexusAkayuki who got [...]

New #paperthread! This one started as a conversation with @NexusAkayuki who got me onboard with the Radiodust ship, so this is where we are.
"Two Lives"
(Hazbin Hotel / Alastor x Angel Dust / CW: references to sexual content/abuse, angst with a happy ending)

Living with Alastor in the Radio Tower has been...nice. No, really, it has. Now he has two places to crash that he doesn't have to worry about the rent.
And Alastor is great, especially for a guy he never actually thought would ever, ever want to be with him.
But...
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There really isn't much for him to do.
Not for nothing, hanging out with Alastor in his lounge is nice...drinking his good booze, getting attention, distracting the Radio Demon from whatever book he has his nose in...
It's just the same thing. A lot.
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And Angel isn't good with the same thing.
One would think some of the same would be comforting, but instead, it's like there's an itch he can't quite scratch. An uncomfortable pea under his new pile of mattresses.
"Hey, Al?"
"Hmm?"
"I think I'm gonna go out tonight."
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Alastor's smile doesn't flinch, but he does pause from straightening his coat to blink at him. Sharp as ever. The guy even dresses up for his radio shows...
"Very well. Before or after dinner?"
"Uhhh...after?"
"Splendid! I'll make sure to cook enough, then!"
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"But, Al, listen, I mean...I'm gonna go *work* tonight."
"All right."
"...at the club. Ya know what I mean?"
"So I also shouldn't wait up for you?"
Angel tries not to become annoyed. "And you're okay with that?"
His whole head tilts. "Ha! Why wouldn't I be?"
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Angel doesn't really have an answer to that. It's not like Alastor has ever told him that he didn't want him to work anymore. He knows he hates Val (who doesn't?) but that's never been something he's laid on Angel to take responsibility for.
That night, Angel leaves.
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When he gets to the club, he considers walking to the back, but instead he goes in through the front. So they can see him.
Them, all of them, all the people who come to Val's club under the Porn Studio every night to get their rocks off.
The response is explosive.
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Not really surprising, though, he thinks as he pushes off a big guy who is trying to block his way, promising a lot of money for a private show.
"Fellas, c'mon, lemme clock in before ya cream your pants, a'right?"
It feels good. It's exciting.
He feels like himself.
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Until he gets to the dressing room.
It's like the heat of the bar accentuates the icy cold reception that meets him here. The girls ignore him. The guys find somewhere else to be.
"Where's all my shit?" he grouses when he gets to his mirror. "Fucking vultures."
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"You realize you haven't showed up for a shift in, like, a month, right?" an imp sneers, not even looking up.
"I've been busy!" At least some of his clothes are still around.
"Right. Being the Radio Demon's cockwarmer and getting redeemed or what-fucking-ever."
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Ouch. Angel puts the pieces together as he gets dressed, glad he had gotten somewhat dolled up before he left the tower.
None of the others can really pull in the money he does. And if Val hasn't been getting his usual cut...
...whatever. Not his problem.
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So he leaves all of them and hits the stage, and all the bitter taste in his mouth goes away. Because the music is good, and the lights are bright, and his body falls right back into it all like it never stopped moving.
Everyone is trying to get a seat in front.
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Is this what he's been missing? Feeling powerful and gorgeous and watching how badly people will claw each other's eyes out just to be able to throw money at him?
Here, he feels like he's good at something.
He's hooked on it, and it's hooked into him.
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The next song hits. He does it again.
And again.
He should probably take a break.
Fuck it, he feels amazing. He even lets the dirtbags get a little closer than he normally does. Doesn't even kick them in the face.
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When he finally goes behind the curtain again, Angel's chest is heaving, and his fur is wet in places from the sweat.
He has a huge smile, though.
He's never made this much cash from a handful of songs. Maybe a whole shift on a busy night. Maybe.
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He shouldn't be surprised when Val is waiting for him in hallway leading back to the dressing room, eyes glowing in the shadows.
"Angel..." he says through one of the smiles he always has on his face when he's not pissed. Yet. "Welcome back, baby."
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"Heyaaa, Val." This is awkward. And not in that 'run into your ex on the street' awkward. The dangerous kind of awkward. The pick-your-words awkward.
He hands over his money. This is how it goes. Cash goes to Val, then he gets his cut. Easy.
Except...not this time.
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Val is counting the money slowly.
"Are we gonna be seeing more of you now?"
Angel watches him, trying to play off the tension in his shoulders, two hands on his hips and the other two over his chest. "I mean, maybe? I got a lot goin' on, so...we'll see."
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"...Right. Busy schedule. Because you're a big fucking deal, right?"
Angel's jaw goes tight, and he waits because usually it's at this point Val snaps. This is when everything usually goes horribly bad.
Instead, he puts all the money in his jacket and turns to go.
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All the nervous energy converts into something entirely. It sours and boils.
"What the fuck, Val? Where's my cut? I earned that shit."
There's a part of Angel's brain that's watching this, screaming if he realizes what the *fuck* he is doing, what an idiot he is.
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So when Val hits him hard across the jaw, so hard it rattles things around inside his head, he can't be that surprised. He can't admit that he doesn't see it coming when he grabs his hair and pulls him up to his face.
Val laughs at him.
"You must be shitting me!"
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Val gives him a shake.
"You think you can just come and go as you like because you're deer boy's little pet now? Fuck outta here with that. He doesn't know you like I do, baby. He may think you're hot now, but he'll get tired of your nonsense."
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Angel isn't dropped on the floor so much as he's thrown. His face throbs, and he doesn't look up at Val again.
"But listen, sweetheart, when he does drop you like a bad habit, you can come ask Daddy nicely to take you back. I'm sure we can arrange a deal."
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When Angel leaves, he goes out the back. He doesn't need to see anyone, and he doesn't need anyone to see him.
For a second, he turns to go back to the Radio Tower.
And then stops.
...Nobody will be up at this hour at the hotel.
So he goes there instead.
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He climbs into bed and lies there in the dark, face swollen, everything hurt, and hugs his middle. He's glad he had some clothes here, so he could change out of his outfit, throwing the remains in the trash.
He doesn't see Alastor when he appears. He *hears* him.
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A sound permanently emits from him, and sometimes it changes, but when he's not talking, Alastor sounds like a neon sign that's been left on too long. When he blinks, it's like it's shorting a bit.
Angel has gotten used to it.
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What he hasn't quite gotten used to is how Alastor glows in the dark, mostly his eyes and sometimes the microphone when it's manifested.
It freaks him out a little sometimes.
So he reaches out to turn on a lamp at his bedside.
"What're ya doin' here, Al? Go home."
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It's not that he means to sound annoyed. But when shit goes south, it's the only way to keep someone from taking advantage of how shitty he feels and end up making it worse.
...Not that Alastor would do that, just...
It's reflex now.
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"I learned something new tonight," Alastor declares, though not as loud as usual.
"Wassat."
"Your piglet companion is absolutely inconsolable when you aren't present at the end of the night! Couldn't sleep a wink."
"Heh...yeah...he's cute like that."
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Alastor tries to look at him. At his face.
"Don't... Okay? Just. Don't. It's all stupid bullshit."
He pulls back. "Hmm."
Then... "...Did ya let me go because you knew this was going to happen?"
"Ha! Future sight would be an impressive addition to my magical arsenal!"
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The reply just heats him up even more.
"Okay, so what then? What, did ya wanna see me tumble and fall into the fiery pit of failure or whatever ya said..."
Alastor barks out a laugh. "I did say that once upon a time, didn't I?! Right here, in this hotel!"
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The sound of his mirth hurts the center of Angel's chest. "Did you do it because it would be fucking entertaining?!"
There's that head tilt again, and although Alastor's smile is unchanged, his brows go up a bit in the middle.
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"Darling, I spent an evening alone in my tower, with an absolutely heartbroken demon pet I could in no way satisfy, and I come to find you, hurt by a cretin I loathe more than a swan-dive into the bowels of Hell itself. Does that seem like it would be entertaining?"
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"...no."
"Correct." He touches his face softly, and as much as Angel wants to stop him, he doesn't. He lets him rest his fingers on the swollen bump on his jaw and kiss it lightly.
"Dearest Angel, I am not your mother. I am not your jailer. Your unlife is your own...
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...and with it, your decisions. I will never stop you from doing anything. Well. Perhaps with a few exceptions, but...that doesn't mean I don't have an investment in your well-being."
Angel is quiet, finally sitting up. "So...what now, then?"
"So, come home with me."
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Angel holds out his arms. "Only if ya carry me. And not with the shadowy tentacle things like last time."
"Oh, what fun are you?" Alastor still lifts him off the bed, and it's ridiculous, really, because he's much shorter than Angel.
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Yet somehow...they make it work.
Just like everything else about this strange relationship of theirs that came out of nothing, it just ends up being a strange kind of perfect.
-END-
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