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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

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The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Holy shit, this took long, and should probably take longer but I'm just itching to get all this out of my system, so here it is. Also realized Alastor’s gloves are not fucking black and red lmao, but burgundy, fuuuck. Changed it.

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

“What did ya think I’d say to a dead deer in my living room?!” Anthony almost fell out of the window for how far out from his flat he was leaning, trying to get rid of the corpse stench that assaulted his senses. “Is it some kind of fuckin’ peace offering? Like sorry, I fucked up, here’s a dead deer?!”

“A deer for my dear~,” Alastor singsonged in response while happily cutting vegetable at the kitchen counter, as if there was no stinky corpse in the flat, bloody and so, so dead.

“No, fuck you,” Anthony growled back into the flat, not bothering to turn even a little. “I hate you.”

“Now, now, cher, lyin’s bad for your health.”

“You are bad for my health!” he turned to the demon with an accusatory finger pointed at his face, and then made a retching noise when the smell of blood reached his nostrils. His hangover state couldn’t handle the smallest deviation from normal and corpses were definitely not in top 1000 of smells he was used to. Alastor didn’t even raise an eyebrow, he just calmly continued his ministrations as if he just didn’t carve the poor deceased animal right in the very room. Wasn’t it some sort of cannibalism if he would eat anything made from that thing? A deer eating another deer? Was that even allowed?

“Dat might be tru,” the demon agreed after a moment of pondering. “Demons are rarely good fer people.”

“Ugh,” Anthony sagged against the windowsill and the icy wind blew snowflakes into his face. “Seriously, why did ya even bring this thing. Where did ya even get it? A whole fuckin’ deer…”

“Hunted it down,” Alastor shrugged and walked towards the sink where the meat was resting pitifully (in Anthony’s opinion), portioned, but also skinned with surprising skill, not elaborating on the hunting part like it was his favourite hobby and not worth questioning. “It’s our weekend. Wanted to cook for you.”

Our weekend sounded sweet. Anthony wanted to be wary of that, but he was just a human and he liked it despite the possible danger lying in those words. After all that went down, it was apparent Alastor saw him as something akin to a pet project, a “unfuck this guy before he dies” sort of challenge, if his I’m going to fix you eventually speech was sincere. Who knew if anything about this person was sincere in general, but making dumb life decisions was Anthony’s forte so maybe he was inclined to believe the demon anyway.

“’K,” he huffed, his stomach finally calming down and he started to get chilly. “Just… tell me when yer done with the raw meat shit. The tequila is not agreeing with me otherwise.”

There was no answer until after several minutes he felt a hand touching his lower back and a body leaning against him to join him at the window.

“Aren’t you cold ‘ere?” Alastor asked as if he just didn’t squeeze in with him at the window and his warmth was a stark contrast with the chilly wind blowing outside.

“Well, not anymore,” he forced himself to remain on spot and not lean into the contact, more out of spite than anything else, but Alastor did it for him, hugging him from the side.

Hugging… him, what?

He must have felt the rigidness of Anthony’s body, there was no way he would not. Sure, they talked about hugs, but Alastor never looked like he was going to act on it anytime soon, and this was definitely soon as fuck.

“Meat is boilin’ and I put rest in da fridge,” Alastor’s voice was so, so close.

“I have a dead deer in my fridge now?” the human faked a reprimanding tone and the arm around him tightened and he felt Alastor nuzzling his hair. Oh. He wasn’t lying when he said he and his shadow are one person, because this felt familiar – only much warmer.

“Oi,” he nudged the man. “If ya feel like huggin’, I want a proper hug.” And took a step back and opened his arms.

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t push your luck, cher,” he said instead, like he didn’t just leave Anthony hanging, probably also out of spite. “How ‘bout you peel potatoes instead?”

“Wow,” Anthony let his arms drop down. “Just wow.”

He helped with the potatoes anyway and tried ridiculously hard to ignore the fact Alastor’s Bambi tail was wagging all this time.

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

Anthony refused to feel offended by that. Alastor had been bitchy for a week now, probably had to do something with Hell fucking with his control kink, but it usually only made him snarkier, rather than hostile. Anthony wouldn’t probably even notice if the demon didn’t snap on Wednesday and Anthony’s living room suddenly resembled a boutique with at least fifty racks of clothes haphazardly appearing where was still free space, making Anthony stare at it like a child during Christmas. It wasn’t a bad “snap” Alastor had, actually seemed like a nice gesture until he said: Now be a good boy, Anthony, pick something nice and be quiet. If I hear one more word from you, one of those jackets is going to strangle you to death. So, Anthony shut up and Alastor eventually calmed down enough to allow him to speak again without the static going haywire (and he also let him keep the clothes, ayyy).

State Alastor was in also meant no touching policy. Anthony taught himself not to initiate anything unless in bed about a month ago already but still sometimes slipped when Alastor was too close – and it usually didn’t rouse a bad reaction (unless it was about the tail. Or the ears), but if Anthony tried it when the static was loud and grating, he’d risk a limb. He didn’t have a problem to keep his distance at that point and Alastor seemed to appreciate it.

But now it sucked.

“Ya know, tomorrow is the 14th,” the human pointed out, sitting sprawled in the comfy oversized cushion he bought himself two weeks ago and at which Alastor scoffed for some reason. It was the best thing to laze in ever, the demon had no taste. “And ya know.”

“I am not sure what I should know on the 14th,” the demon uttered, his red eyes not leaving a page of his book for a second. He was seated on the couch with enough distance between two of them that could be still considered social and as hanging out instead of we had an argument so we’re not talking to each other, which was technically not true. They didn’t argue since the tequila fiasco and that cleared up anyway. This was mostly just… precaution.

“Well, I know this is your last day this week,” Anthony tried different approach and sat more properly on the cushion. Not that it helped much, since he was sporting a pink crop top hoodie and booty shorts and Alastor already expressed certain distaste for it, but didn’t demand him to go change, so it was at least a small victory.

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor responded primly, turning a page in slow pace, like a snob he was sometimes. Another thing about the bitchy state of his was the speech. He never let it slip like he usually did when they were together, just talked like a radio all the time like he was keeping his barriers up almost hysterically. Anthony didn’t question it, but he sure did miss his Cajun accent a lot. It felt much warmer and softer than the radio show host persona Alastor normally presented, although it was probably just his form of coping.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, bracing for inevitable refusal that was going to meet his demand. He knew Alastor well enough to distinguish when he was not going to be swayed, and it definitely reached that point. “Just wondered if maybe you’d stay one more day.”

“I am quite busy, dear,” Alastor responded as Anthony thought he would. “You could have planned it a week prior if you knew 14th was an important date.”

It was like talking to a computer at this point. Please leave a message, beep.

“Ya, I could have,” Anthony admitted and let it go. It wasn’t like Valentine’s Day was something special for either of them. Or, honestly, meant anything to their relationship. Maybe there was some Deal day in hell’s calendar they could open bottle of wine to down the year eventually.

A sigh and Alastor was putting his book down, his smile rather strained.

Uh oh.

“Anthony,” there was the Name CallingTM, “if you have something to say, say it.”

“Nothin’,” the human shrugged while sagging back into the cushion. “Three days are up.”

It was the weekend-less week now too and Anthony knew Alastor was itching to get back to hell to deal with whatever was needing his attention and he sort of thought of telling him if he really needed to go, he could, despite the deal saying otherwise, but was selfish and never did.

“I am not going to repeat myself,” the static rumbled more, meaning the bitching mode intensified and Anthony groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It’s just Valentine’s Day, ‘s all,” he mumbled and right the moment the sentence left his mouth, he would shoot himself if he could, because even to his ears it sounded so… cringy. Like he was expecting Alastor to bring him flowers and have dinner together with candles and all that bullshit they do in the movies. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Actually. Forget it. I dunno why I even thought about it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Lover’s day,” Alastor didn’t forget it. Oh no.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way, honest,” Anthony quickly assured him, and really wished Alastor would just shrug it off and return to his book like love never interested him. Since it never did. He was such an anti-intimate and anti-sexual person Anthony suspected him of really being just a little alien in a robotic body, like in Men in Black.

“Then what did you mean by asking me to stay on the Lover’s day?”

Oh yeah, okay, bastard mode activated now as well. Just keen on marinating Anthony in his own sweat and tears from the obvious mistake. Classic Alastor.

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

“Nothing would not make you ask me to stay one more day on Lover’s day,” Alastor was staring at him like a laser now, just burning through his skull. He was obviously super into making Anthony squirm in self-pity from his bad life decisions.

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

And that was it. That was the end. That was Anthony herded into an imaginary corner with nowhere to go, and Alastor was already turning towards him, and he couldn’t say if the smile was mischievous or angry. Lately the border between those was thin as fuck.

“I just thought a company on the most depressing day of the fuckin’ year would be nice, is all,” he gritted his teeth under Alastor’s red-eyed stare. “Like. We could watch some chic-flics on TV and drink wine and laugh at it, I don’t know.”

“You know how I feel about the picture show shenanigans,” Alastor shot right back, as expected. He learned to more or less tolerate when Anthony wanted to watch something on TV in his presence, but he never joined him for it like a goddamn boomer.

“Ye, see. So, it was doomed from the start anyway!” He hoped it was the end of it. Sure, he might have thought about some cuddles here and there too, since that was what they were supposed to do anyway, but the main plan was not to be alone while hating on all the hearts and roses and happy couples showed everywhere.

“It would seem so,” Alastor finally let him off the hook and opened his book again, the static diminishing slightly. “You can still drink wine though.”

“I plan to,” the human mumbled more to himself than to his companion and was just glad he didn’t need to go to work on that wretched day, or Alastor would find him in hell the very evening.

***

2020, February 14th

He’d be lying if he didn’t have at least the smallest hope of Alastor appearing out of thin air with one of the soft smiles he could do and with his Cajun accent telling him he changed his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone on such awful, overrated cash-grabbing day like this. It was probably 1 % chance of it happening, but he still felt a little disappointed when the clock showed a bit before midnight and Alastor didn’t show up at all, not even saying hi over the radio or sending Junior to give him few comforting nuzzles (Anthony was suspecting him he kept his shadow on short leash since the tequila incident and it was kind of sad).

He was switching between channels with a small frown two wine bottles later, but at least he managed to survive this shitty day without burying his face in PCP. He’d have to leave the house for it and the image of seeing happy hand holding couples on his way would kill the urge anyway.

Once Titanic started to play, Anthony decided it was enough suffering for one day and turned the TV off with a groan. Maybe Alastor knew exactly what kind of boredom the TV was, if not playing shitty movies, then filling majority of its broadcast with ads, and that’s why he avoided it.

He dragged his body to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to cuddle his body pillow instead of Alastor (not the same, but at least he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore feeling cold and alone), and stopped dead in the tracks, staring at his bed.

There was a rose on his pillow – a red, beautiful rose just lying there like it was no biggie, and Anthony was afraid to blink in fear it would disappear. He padded closer, staring at the flower, and then turned quickly, searching the shadows for any sign of Junior hanging around, ready to pounce. He found nothing, the flat was silent and dark, and the rose was still on the pillow when he turned back.

“Al, you fuckin’ softie,” he chuckled to himself, picking the rose with a smile playing on his lips, just to hiss immediately after when a thorn bit into his thumb, drawing blood. Of course the demon would leave all the thorns intact, if not even adding more, just to show him he’s not as soft as Anthony would think.

“Classic Alastor,” he shook his head and brought the rose to his lips. “Thank you.”

He missed the shadow slithering out of the room and disappearing in the radio softly buzzing in the kitchen.

***

2020, July 25th

“Jazz club?”

“I’m in a mood for some good live music,” Alastor opened another wardrobe in the bedroom and raked through the clothes on hangers, mostly scoffing in distaste. It was Saturday evening and the night was warm and lively, inviting them out. “Do you actually own anything presentable or is it all just random bright coloured horrors?”

“Excuse me,” Anthony pushed him to the side from the wardrobe opening and dived in himself, pulling out a pastel blue shirt with stitched flowers on its lapels. “I only have the nicest-,”

“Denied,” Alastor snatched it from his hand and threw it on the bed. “Try again.”

Anthony huffed but grabbed another of his favourite pieces, an old-pink V neck he couldn’t even properly present before Alastor was taking it out of his hold and throwing it on the bed too.

“Yer such a prude sometimes, holy shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck ya want me to wear then?”

“Something dashing, of course,” the demon eyed the closet one more time and then closed it with a scoff. “And something red too.”

So we match was left unsaid.

“Maybe you should try pink instead,” Anthony smirked but honestly it was better if Alastor never attempted that one. Red and black were his colours like an ingrained order of the world, any deviation from it would probably make it collapse.

He wasn’t surprised Alastor didn’t react. Instead the demon left the bedroom and Anthony followed him while thinking.

“I can wear a dress,” Anthony offered after a moment. “Like. Those nice jazzy cocktail dresses and feathers in hair in a pearl headdress. And do nice make up.”

“A dress?” Alastor repeated. “Do you own any?”

“Yeah, plenty,” the human shrugged. “Often from work, though it was other bar I worked in before. Most of the guys were in a drag, they taught me how to do my own make up and how to style the hair. Really enjoyed that place, too bad they closed it down once the owner shot himself cuz of his debts.”

“Unfortunate,” Alastor commented with a nod. “Though I do recall you were saying the bar you work in now have the costume events too. Are dresses part of it as well?”

“Anything goes,” Anthony shrugged. “Dresses, skimpy body suits, fishnets, business wear. It’s usually themed with the drinks and the food.” He didn’t miss Alastor’s eye roll when he mentioned the skimpy body suits, but at least Al didn’t comment on it.

“I suppose guests enjoy that kind of show,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and Anthony decided not to elaborate. Going to work no longer made him feel at ease, it was mostly automatic. He just shut down all of the negativity, did the work, slapped grabby hands and went home. It more or less kept him out of trouble so far.

“So? Want me to doll up?” he leered at the demon between the doors. “I even have a red dress that might be just what you’d like.”

Alastor looked curious, that was a good sign. It had been few years since Anthony dressed up like this, but it could be a nice change of pace and a treat for his favourite demon who might not have about any interest in intimacy but could get very appreciative when he saw something he liked.

“Please,” the static dropped from Alastor’s voice. “Surprise me, cher.”

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

“Grandma,” Anthony walked into the living room in high heels, a fluffy coat covering his body all the way to his knees. He immediately drew Alastor’s attention and saw his eyebrows shooting up. Before he could open his mouth and ask probably why the hell was Anthony wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, the human dramatically threw the coat down, so it pooled around his feet and struck a pose. “It’s me! Anastasia!”

Cue for the laugh, though Alastor just remained staring without a single word and Anthony cackled and kicked the coat away back into the bedroom without bothering to put it on a hanger.

“Forgot ya don’t watch TV, joke’s lost on ya,” he commented dryly and walked closer, the heels clicking against the wooden floor rhythmically. Alastor still stared but reached out towards him, so Anthony put a hand into his and their fingers intertwined.

“Ya like?” he cocked his head to the side and Alastor actually beamed at him, his eyes raking appreciatively over the setup the human presented – deep red flapper dress with long, pearl necklace tied on his chest into a knot, with fishnets and open black heels, and long black gloves reaching just above his elbow. The red and black eyeshadow with perfect eyeliner took some time, but Anthony was proud of the result and judging from Alastor’s pleased expression it was worth the wait. He styled his hair into 20’s fashion (thanks google) and the only thing he was missing was the headdress and the feather, but he imagined it wouldn’t be a problem for Alastor if he asked for it.

“Vous êtes absolument époustouflant,” the fluent French came out and even though Anthony had no idea what it meant, he believed it was a compliment. At least the tone sounded like it was.

“Hehe,” he let Alastor to twirl him around and when he finally faced the demon again, he realized he was not in the pinstriped suit anymore, but instead of the coat there was an elegant black vest and the red shirt under had different pattern as well, all accompanied by a thin black tie.

“Damn, that’s pretty sweet, Al,” he gently patted the tie and Alastor offered his arm with a smile.

“I believe we’re ready now, cher,” the demon gestured towards the main door and Anthony locked their elbows together and let Alastor lead them out. He felt his palms sweating in the gloves, the last time he felt so nervous was maybe on his first real date, but he was so not telling that out loud.

***

Birdland jazz club was the first thing that Anthony thought of and Alastor seemed satisfied when they entered the building and found a place to sit. Going out with Alastor wasn’t as frequent as it could be, but Anthony didn’t mind it either way. The first time they ventured outside of the walls of Anthony’s flat was around March and it left Anthony wondering why nobody actually turned around when seeing Alastor from the get go – the suit, the hair, the red glowing eyes – not really a normal sight in New York, that for sure.

2020, March 24th

“They don’t see me like you do,” Alastor told him when they sat in a coffee shop and ordered. The waiter didn’t even bat an eyelash at the demon, and it left Anthony’s mind reeling. “They just see a normal person, not even that interesting.”

“As in completely different person?” Anthony inquired and Alastor gently touched his forehead before taking his hand back again. In that moment instead of the red-eyed demon there was a man in his thirties, if not younger, with wild brown hair, rather short and tousled, hazel eyes hidden under round glasses, in a white shirt and a vest, looking completely human and normal and honestly kind of cute?

“Oooh,” Anthony couldn’t help it, “what a cute guy, damn. Ya can change to whoever ya want?”

“Not really,” the human had Alastor’s radio voice, how bizarre. “This face… it’s not whoever, it’s just me.”

Anthony blinked, taking in the face and the eyes and the small smile, and oh, yeah, there was a resemblance now when he focused more, but that would mean…

“Wait. Ye were a human before becoming a demon?” he gaped in shock and one eyebrow shot up on the pretty human-Alastor face.

“How is that surprising? We even talked about my mother,” he shook his very human head. Damn, it was so strange, yet adorable. “Of course, I was a human. Then I died. Ended up in Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Anthony groaned. “I know we talked about it but I just… I mean ya seem like an important and strong kind of demon? Like Lucifer-kind of demon? Surely there are demons born in hell and not just sinners becoming ones?”

“Yes, hellborn demons are a thing,” Alastor nodded and then stopped talking when the waitress approached with their orders, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Alastor and Frappuccino in front of Anthony. The demon eyed Anthony’s drink with distaste but didn’t comment on it. “It is amusing to topple them over, while being just a sinner.”

“But then… you don’t really hold your appearance when you get down there? Or did you choose it?” Anthony tilted his head to the side, not getting enough of this stranger in front of him. Familiar, yet not at all.

“You do not have a say in it,” Alastor answered simply. “The appearance the sinner take in Hell depends on his life or the way he died. There are variety of things in play.”

Anthony nodded thoughtfully while sipping his drink and then grinned around his straw.

“What,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at him and Anthony let the straw go with an audible pop.

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

2020, July 25th

Alastor ordered whiskey and Malibu Sunset for Anthony without even needing to ask his companion and the waiter eyed them both with a pleasant smile before leaving. The club was almost full, and the live band just started to perform, which made the ambience quite enjoyable. Anthony didn’t mind jazz, though he was not a die-hard fan of it either. He knew about the clubs but never actually came to chill in one like this before. It was… pretty nice, especially with the company. Alastor was holding his hand on the table, a gentle touch Anthony relished in, and for some reason here, sitting like this, he felt like his equal. Like not only as a pet project and a future pawn, but a partner.

“It is peculiar,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his eyes meeting Anthony’s again. “For how much the world changed, jazz clubs are still feeling almost the same to me.”

“Compared to which year?” Anthony asked, holding his gaze and felt a thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

“1930,” Alastor smiled with surprising gentleness. “What a year.”

1930. He didn’t know when exactly Alastor died, but if in 1930 he was enjoying jazz clubs, he must have been an adult already. It made him 80 years old past his death at least.

“30’s baby,” Anthony chuckled. “No wonder you don’t fancy TV. It was probably just coming out?”

“Yes, the biggest wave came after I died, thankfully,” a clear distaste in Alastor’s voice was hilarious. “Would prefer radio anyway. It was my job after all.”

“A radio host?” Anthony guessed as much, and the demon hummed while sipping his whiskey. It fitted him, that sort of occupation. “Well, I dunno what ya did in your life to end up in hell,” he leaned against his palm, smiling at Alastor softly, “but yer biggest sin is not talkin’ in that accent of yers. And I mean it. It’s so hot.”

“Correct speech was a must for a radio,” Alastor said primly, but he looked very relaxed talking about it. “Talkin’ like dis would make me a garbage host.”

“I could listen to ya for hours tho,” Anthony grinned and Alastor glanced back to the live band with a small smile, still holding Anthony’s hand.

The night passed fast with great music and maybe a little more alcohol then they planned on drinking, but they could still walk on their own legs when leaving. When drunk, Alastor dropped the correct speech entirely and was extremely touchy feely, which reduced Anthony into a giggling mess.

“You’re a lovely companion, cher,” he was crooning at Anthony when they were walking home through the New York streets, arm sneaked around Anthony’s waist. “Da deal we made was da best thing dat happened to me in a long time.”

“Oh, man, Al,” Anthony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Ya know how to flatter a guy, huh.”

“Truth is da sincerest form of flattery!” Alastor spun the human around, twirling him on the pavement like a ballerina, then stilling him again with both hands holding his waist. “And I mean every word.”

“Ha, are ya this happy because of the dress?” he batted his eyelashes at the demon and Alastor’s hands slid lower to Anthony’s hips before returning to his waist, an appreciative touch that made Anthony’s breath hitch.

“It suits you,” Alastor concluded, standing close and personal. “Da whole look suits you so well. But even in your pink distasteful pieces of cloth you call fashion, you still look da best.”

“O-ooh, boy,” Anthony felt his heartbeat speed up. If he’d only slightly dipped his head, he could be kissing the man in front of him. Maybe normally he even would if his partner wasn’t a demonic deer with intimacy aversion. But he didn’t want to fuck this up. Holy shit, he would really go and kill himself if he fucked it up now of all times by not holding his horses and forcing himself on an obvious asexual only enjoying the company, while having too many drinks to keep his defences up.

“T-thanks, Al,” he gulped down the cringy nicknames he would use on anybody else after a date night. “Yer the best company I could’ve hoped for too.”

He was adamantly sure it wasn’t him who brought them together, that it was Alastor’s hand grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him lower and then pressing their lips together in a quick kiss, and Alastor’s body pushing against his, and also Alastor who stepped away again with half lidded eyes and a sly smile, saying: “Remember, you’re mine forever.”

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th

It was the rhythmical beat of rain against the windowsill that woke Anthony up. The weather let up a little and allowed a little colder wind to blow through the windows and it felt so pleasant Anthony just buried his face back into the warmth and breathed out in contentment. It took him a moment before he realized the warmth was Alastor’s chest and that there were Alastor’s arms holding him firmly in place and their legs were intertwined and even though it was nothing new, he suddenly felt his heart speeding up almost in panic and he blinked in confusion on why the hell would he freak out now after more than half a year of sleeping with the demon like this.

It hit him just a little while later – because Alastor kissed him yesterday. On his own. While drunk.

Nothing happened afterwards, they just stumbled back home and Alastor was clingy and by some miracle Anthony managed to get rid of the make up and change into an oversized t-shirt before collapsing to bed with the demon draped around his torso, mumbling sweet nothings like a suave Casanova with zero experience and then they both fell asleep.

He knew Alastor had his clingy moments, usually when really, really tired, so it made sense his drunk self would be probably another extension of that behaviour. But the kiss was still unexpected, and Anthony was terrified of the consequences. He could see Alastor freaking out over it when sober, he could imagine him being distant and cold to deal with the situation, to keep Anthony on arm’s length again, and it was making him sad. He could maybe hope Alastor would draw blanks after the night, but he didn’t drink himself to stupor, so the chances of that were quite low.

He looked up to the sleeping face of his companion, relaxed and content, and just thought fuck, why is he so lovable sometimes? Why couldn’t he be more demonic, more heartless, or crueller for Anthony to keep at least his metaphorical heart to himself? Why was watching him sleep pulled so many strings in him? Why his presence was so dear and needed? Why falling in love always happened with the worst kind of person?

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

Anthony whined and buried his face back into Alastor’s chest. Of course the fucker was awake, witnessing Anthony’s existential crisis.

“I’d recommend voodoo for dat,” the demon had no mercy. “It’s lot less messy.”

“I’m bad ad sewin’,” Anthony mumbled into the red shirt and the laugh Alastor let out rumbled in his chest like thunderstorm. His clawed hand raked through Anthony’s hair with gentleness and it was too much for his poor, weak heart.

“This is gonna sound morbid, but…” he started quietly, “I can’t wait to be dead. So I can be with ya down there.”

The hand stilled for a fraction of second before resuming its pace.

“Dis is gonna be morbid as well, but I can’t wait for you to be ded too, to be with me down dere,” Alastor’s other hand moved to rest on the small of Anthony’s back, the warmth seeping into his body like poison. “To belon’ to me and do my biddin’ any time I’d want you to.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot?” Anthony groaned. “Imagine talking like this in front of people though. Can’t wait for you to die already, babe! Like shit, is he a murderer? Is he gonna slice his throat in bed?”

“Romance done right.”

“Till death do us apart… for a moment, until we’re pass that phase,” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, he never thought about dying as much prior meeting Alastor, like he knew it was going to happen eventually – sooner or later, it depended a lot on drugs and work and attitude – but there were no deep feelings about his life ending. Not even that much fear. But now? It was like a gateway he couldn’t wait to pass, and it was a little fucked up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Alastor sighed and yeah, he didn’t help, really. “Comin’ here so often is quite taxin’. I adore bein’ with you, but it would be even better when we’re both in Hell, havin’ you on my lap-,”

“On your lap?!” Anthony whipped his head up, grinning. “So yer a kinky bastard after all!”

“Nothin’ kinky about wantin’ to keep you close,” the demon was so confident all of sudden, sheesh. Was he still a little drunk? He never talked about things like these – hell, he never actually expressed his feelings toward Anthony so openly, unless it was his shadow who, instead of words, was showing him by nuzzles. Sure, it was apparent he liked Anthony at least a little, but now it scaled up so much Anthony was scared it was just a dream and he was going to wake up soon.

“On yer lap, with your dick out, huh?” Stumbled out of Anthony’s mouth, out of habit, honestly, and he immediately regretted it. Alastor, as expected, scoffed at it.

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony rested his chin on the back of his hands. It was somewhere in April, if he remembered correctly, when Alastor informed him sex was probably as interesting to him as stepping into muddy puddle and then having to clean his shoes. Anthony took it as it were – it was in their deal anyway about the intimacy and sexual stuff, so it didn’t come as much as a surprise to hear Alastor was purely asexual character. It was still fun to rile him up sometimes though. “Just want ya to know ya can do anythin’ yer want to me. Even here.”

“You’re always so sincere, cher,” Alastor’s hand previously in Anthony’s hair slid down to his cheek, gently caressing it.

“Life sucks anyway,” Anthony leaned into the touch. “Every time yer not here, it’s like it loses colours. Like yer my impulse control and when I can’t be with ya, I do stupid shit. Like drugs.”

“Lately?”

“On occasion. When alone for too long,” Anthony admitted not too proudly. It was difficult to let it go completely, no matter how Alastor filled the void. Once he was gone, the void returned. “Makes me feel better. When yer here, it’s like I’m addicted to ya and need to fill that void with somethin’ when ya leave.”

“Can’t be helped,” the demon’s thumb slid down to Anthony’s lips, the claw gently pressing down and easing up. Anthony felt an urge to lick it, but Alastor would probably smack him if he did.

“Shouldn’t ya be discouraging me?” he teased a little and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look like an angel to you?” he asked with a tilt in his voice and Anthony shrugged.

“Yer trying to fix me.”

“To feel more confident, not a saint,” Alastor opposed and Anthony hissed when the claw cut the tender skin on his lower lip, a drop of blood appearing.

“…fair,” he hummed, watching Alastor stare at the redness with half-lidded eyes before he suddenly pulled Anthony close and licked the droplet away, making him shudder.

“I can’t let you be too much of a good boy,” the demon whispered to his lips. “Or we’d have a problem with upstairs.”

“And we don’t want that,” Anthony added breathlessly, and his partner smirked.

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th

It was a rare moment – rarer than seeing a rainbow after rain, but it was there. Alastor allowing Anthony to touch his hair and ears, while sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book he brought along from hell. They were in the middle of preparing dinner but there was at least 30 minutes of downtime and Alastor thought it was the best time to study some of his hell shit, like Anthony wasn’t there, ready for a cuddle.

Unfair.

So he stood behind the couch, right above Alastor’s head and risked a gentle scrape of fingers through the red and black locks. Alastor didn’t react, which normally meant a green light for whatever Anthony was up to, so he buried his hand in his hair and while the demon made a humming noise in the back of his throat, he didn’t stop him. So he played around, twirling the strands, pulling them back, braiding some, poking the ears till they flicked, until he started pulling the hair back from Alastor’s face and from the sides into a neat ponytail he secured with a hairband he had on his wrist from his own hair care just an hour ago and left it there.

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

He circled the sofa and stopped in the front, taking the sight of the new style in, and yeah, okay, that shouldn’t really make him this horny, but it did.

“Am I gonna regret lettin’ you play with my hair, darlin’?” Alastor glanced at him from the book and Anthony buried his face in his hands.

“No, but now I regret ya let me because I made ya even fuckin’ hotter,” he whined.

Alastor delivered an overkill when he rolled his sleeves up once they got back to cooking and left the ponytail be. Anthony was pretty sure he was only preparing him for the suffering in hell in his own way.

***

2020, November 11th

The first time he had thought of taking off Alastor’s gloves were on Wednesday evening while resting his head on the demon’s legs, playing with the hem of them. He had never seen Alastor taking them off – ever. Honestly he never saw him take off about anything except of his shoes and his coat, but even when he rolled up his sleeves, he left the gloves on and Anthony thought he maybe just had a thing about touching stuff with his bare hands - some people did. He knew there were scars on Alastor’s forearms and his chest, he had seen them when he unbuttoned his shirt a little, so maybe his hands were the same and he didn’t like showing them. Alastor didn’t strike him as somebody who cared as much about other people’s opinion, but he knew appearances might be deceptive. With Alastor’s obvious control kink the image he presented himself with probably played its role.

He was dragging his nails over the fabric of the burgundy gloves with thoughtful hum and when Alastor didn’t protest in any way, he slid two fingers under the hem, touching the bare palm of the demon’s hand. Still no reaction that would mean Alastor hated it, which encouraged him to continue.

The tip of his tongue peaked out in concentration as he tried to fit more in, at which Alastor finally cleared his throat above him.

“Darlin’,” he crooned. “What’re you doin’?”

“Havin’ sex with yer hands, duh.” He wiggled his fingers a little and Alastor sighed while grabbing the offensive hand and stopped the ministrations. “Aww.”

“Leave my hands outta your crudeness,” the demon flicked his forehead instead and then rested his hand back on Anthony’s chest where it was before. It only took about ten seconds before Anthony was on it again and at that point Alastor just grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“Nooo,” the human tried to wriggle out of the hold, but the grip was inhumanly strong. “Spoilsport. It’s not like I’d do somethin’ dirty to it… maybe.”

“Whateva you say, darlin’,” Alastor didn’t budge, obviously. But at least it made Anthony think of something else when it came to Alastor’s elusive hands.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he proposed, grinning at his partner’s confused expression. “You lemme take off yer gloves. And I won’t do anything bad to yer hands.”

“Dat sounds like a rubbish deal,” Alastor shook his head. “No dice.”

“Then… what do ya want in exchange?” he batted his eyelashes seductively, which had about zero, if not minus, effect on the demon. “Imma game for anythin’.”

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes as if he thought of something wicked and manipulative, and then his smile widened. Anthony thought of anything – eternal enslavement, monthly donation of human souls, not talking for a week-

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

“I’ll let you take my gloves off, but I get to see you in a suit,” came a term and Alastor was positively beaming now, which was weird, because… a suit? Was that even a proper condition? He could have just asked; it wasn’t like Anthony had an aversion to wear fully buttoned up clothing or something. Sure, he didn’t love it, but to make a deal out of it?

“I mean… sure?” The grip on his wrist disappeared and Anthony sat up, still confused. When a hand appeared with familiar green shine, he checked once more for Alastor’s happy expression and then took it, feeling the tingle running down his spine.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, darlin’,” Alastor gently grabbed Anthony’s chin to raise up his head a little. “Now dress up. I’ll be waitin’.”

“Yer a public menace,” the human barked out a laugh but got up anyway. He was pretty sure he still had a suit from the cabaret night and could only hope it would still fit.

It fit. He liked the suit because despite wearing it just once, it fitted him like a glove and even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of black and white setup, it had its charm once in a while. The well-tailored vest and close-fitting pants still made a nice figure and Anthony vaguely remembered the cabaret night granted him quite a bit of extra money, just because of how the pants hugged his ass (and because of his pretty face too, he was confidently sure. He didn’t even need to suck anybody’s dick that night).

He checked himself in a mirror for the last time, trying to find any imperfection he could somehow remedy, until he was completely satisfied and returned to the living room with surprisingly nervous expectations.

“No Anastasia today?” Alastor greeted him with a small smile standing near the couch, and Anthony fidgeted, not really feeling that confident in the clothes as he ironically was in the dress before.

“Wouldn’t wanna make the same joke twice, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck and took two more steps closer to where Alastor was standing. “Well. Here I am. In a plain boring suit just for yer viewing pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed,” the demon looked delighted, which still baffled him, but maybe he had a thing for suits in his asexual spectrum, why not. Then he offered his hand for Anthony to take, palm up, and he realized the gloves were already off. Alastor’s hands were black as night with long, red claws gradually darkening until the blackness swallowed the colour. The obsidian shade was stopping in tendrils around his wrists like the shadows were swallowing his hands in a provocative manner and Anthony had an urge to rub his face all over it.

He must have stared for too long because the hand started pulling away and Anthony panicked with low nonono and grabbed it like a frightened animal.

“Ya can’t just flash it and then walk away with it, sheesh,” he grumbled, holding the hand in both of his and it was smooth and somehow warm, and feeling like a human hand, sort of, but at the same time not really? He couldn’t tell for sure. He wondered how it would taste if he licked it.

“You looked put off, didn’t wanna flaunt it ‘round,” Alastor’s voice cracked his concentration and it made him look up to the demon’s face in surprise. The smile he had was tight – was he self-conscious about it? In all its strangeness his hands were like some famous artist’s masterpiece, nothing to be conscious about.

“Well, ya should flaunt it around,” he said firmly. “Damn, it’s like. Really cool and kinda creepy, I like it.”

The hand visibly relaxed, the claws opened, and Anthony couldn’t stop himself anymore, he just rubbed his cheek against it like an affectionate cat and heard Alastor’s breath hitch in his throat.

Score.

“That feels so niiiice,” he purred happily. “And for just one lousy in-suit evening, ya should feel cheated.”

“Quite the opposite, darlin’,” another clawed hand joined the first one and then Alastor was holding his face on both sides, gently rubbing his cheeks, and Anthony was pretty sure he had the most dorky expression on his face right now but didn’t care. “You look dashin’.”

“Mmmhm,” Anthony grinned, and his hands covered the clawed ones and squeezed. “How ‘bout you walk back a bit.”

“Walk back?” the demon tilted his head, but did as he was told, just to lose his balance immediately after two steps when his knees hit the edge of the couch (Anthony pushed him slightly so he would fall right into sitting position, because he was a little shit and had a plan). Before Alastor could say anything else (though he didn’t look like he wanted to), Anthony sat on top of him, knees next to his thighs and took one of the blackened hand and gave the pointing finger an experimental lick.

Alastor immediately bristled like Anthony just flashed him, the static buzzing to life and off the roof, and shit, it should have scared him, but it did not. He stopped though, watching the demon with seductive smile and Alastor gradually breathed in and out and the static stopped again.

“Scary,” Anthony winked at him, still holding the hand in his, and Alastor shook his head and flexed his claws.

“You try your luck too often,” he just said in a low, warning voice.

“I know,” the human positioned the clawed hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating, vulnerable and open, and smiled. “I’m goin’ to be good from now on. Promise.”

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

Their hands intertwined and Anthony was pretty sure during this night the defences Alastor had lowered for him once more.

***

2021, February 9th

When it came to birthdays, Anthony normally ignored them. Since almost no one knew the date, he was mostly safe to spend the day as any other, so it actually came as a surprise when Anthony brought home bouquet of roses from work (ironically from the patrons and not from co-workers, go and figure) for his birthday and put it in a vase on the table in the living room. It was rather nice of them, sure, though it only fuelled the disdain from his co-workers further. He more or less forgot about it up until Alastor showed up in the evening and noticed the newest addition.

“I thought the Lover’s day is on 14th,” Alastor watched the bouquet as if it would explode any moment, his eyes narrowed.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Anthony peeked in from the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day is on 14th. This is cuz of my birthday.”

“Your birthday is today?” the demon left the bouquet alone and joined Anthony in the kitchen, his tone surprised. “You did not say anything.”

“Well, cuz it’s not really important,” Anthony shrugged while slicing meat. Even though he normally ignored this day, he kind of wanted to make something special for Alastor, if anything else. As a treat for himself. “Nothing worth to celebrate.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Alastor leaned with his back against the counter right next to Anthony, his expression curious. “Mortals normally enjoy celebrating their birthday. Mainly because of gifts, at least?”

“Well, I’m a special case.”

“Not enjoying gifts?” That was a stupid question. Of course Anthony enjoyed gifts as long as they were not mean or overly sexual, but along with his miserable life his birthday mostly left a bitter taste in his mouth every year.

“As much as any other John, obviously,” he glanced at Alastor with a smirk. “It’s just… not my thing. To celebrate the day I was born.”

“I see,” Alastor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it be an overstep if I said I would like to celebrate it with you?”

“You would?” Anthony stopped with the meat preparations and turned to face the demon, a weird flicker of happiness igniting in him.

“Celebrating the day you were born seems very fitting,” Alastor’s smile widened. “Otherwise we would never meet. And I treasure the moment when we did.”

“Aww,” Anthony cooed, and it was nice, to be told by the person you were crushing on.

“Though I must admit,” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “I am not entirely sure what is the norm in this century.”

“We can bake a cake?” Anthony offered. He was pretty sure he had all the ingrediencies stocked. “I guess people usually do that. Then they wish happy b-day and lots of health and good fortune or… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this shtick. They smooch maybe too. Or shake hands. Same thing for some people.”

“Oh,” Alastor looked thoughtful. “That sounds amendable.”

“Yeah, we can try-mmph?!” Out of anything that could possibly happen to him on his wretched birthday, Alastor pushing him against the counter and kissing him was definitely not one of them. Sure, they did kiss sometimes, though it was usually chaste and almost innocent?

Well, this was extremely far from innocent. This involved tongue. This was some other Alastor possessing the demon’s body, ravishing his mouth in the kitchen on his birthday while his hands cupped Anthony’s face and his thumbs were gently caressing his cheekbones, and what the hell, the gloves were off too, it made Anthony melt. Alastor was nipping on his lower lip and then diving back in, and Anthony felt his body shiver and his hands gripped the pinstriped coat in fear Alastor would stop or something, and when the demon let go of him with a last obscene lick, he realized he was basically on verge of suffocating already without his brain notifying him. He gasped for air with a shudder and Alastor joined their foreheads together, his smile small and private.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he purred. “Thank you for bein’ born.”

Anthony made an inhumane voice in the back of his throat and clung to his demon as if his life depended on it.

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

(Later he found the bouquet in the trash and a new and much bigger one on the table instead. Alastor acted like he had no idea what happened.)

***

2024, October 1st

When Anthony thought about dying at any point of his life, it just meant the end. He didn’t know how he was going to die, but that usually changed each year. As a teenager, he wanted to commit suicide several times a year, mainly from age 15 to 17. He wasn’t sure what exactly stopped him each time, but somehow, he pulled through. In his mid-twenties it was a risk from the outer sources – too tight squeezes of hands around his neck when having sex, too many drugs in his system, too much alcohol. Once even a stab wound from his crazy ex. Granted, Anthony almost killed him back on the spot – though later he found out the fucker died in the hospital. So technically it wasn’t exactly murder? It should have been though.

Anyway. When he hit 30, he felt like his mind was on verge of breaking and any kind of distraction was strong enough to keep him occupied. He thought about death from time to time, but always stopped his hand reaching for a knife in the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe there is more to life than stubbornly surviving days, weeks, months of his miserable life for no reason.

At age 31 he summoned a demon and for four years his life turned to be enjoyable three times a week, and sometimes even five. He gave his heart and soul to hell for company, and fell in love with a force of nature, a whirlwind of emotions, a lovely devil. He never, ever regretted a single day spent with Alastor, a single hour, a minute, a second. Despite their occasional quarrels, their differences, and their triggers, they enjoyed each other’s company. They learned through their mistakes and they made each other stronger through the weaknesses, and while all that was slowly fading away in staccato of painful spasms and tears, Anthony still felt fondness and maybe even a twinge of happiness of his cage finally breaking free, even though it hurt like a bitch and he felt sick and alone.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die. He didn’t think 35 was some kind of milestone of life and death, a crossroad not meant to be crossed.

But he was tired. He was lonely. He wanted and craved and yearned for more of something that was out of his reach, no matter how much he tried to grab it, to pull it close.

You are still alive, mon chéri, and it is yours and only yours to live. I do not want you to regret it, no matter how much I want you with me. I might have forfeited my life, but your heart still beats. Do not waste it.

Anthony thought Alastor was being cold that day. He thought they were just words said to placate him somehow, a lie spilled to keep him here. If he wanted, if he craved like Anthony did, would he say please live to him? Right after spilling his heart? Even though they both wanted to be together? Even when they both morbidly dreamed about Anthony’s eventual death?

Now, thinking back to it… he saw what he meant. Now, when everything was turning cold and distant and dark, he realized dying at 35 is young and stupid and wasteful.

Yet he didn’t regret it. He was never going to regret selling his soul to a devil and leaving a place that only brought him pain in a ditch.

The only thing he regretted was dying alone in a dirty bathroom, but… it wasn’t like he could choose anyway.

“There, there, darlin’.”

There were warm hands holding his face. Everything felt raw and searing, like falling through liquid fire.

“Breathe.”

He tried to, but only hacked out blood. He shook his head, curling into himself. The hands gently petted his hair.

“Now, now, my heart,” the voice cooed. “My everything. You are safe now. You belong to me.”

He felt a pain in his chest, like his heart was torn out and left a gaping chasm behind. It was like tasting despair and ash on tip of his tongue.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, cher,” a gentle reminder, a curtain hiding the missing organ in his body, a beautiful lie. “Nobody, ever again.”

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

“I can’t believe that! Ya almost ate my pig!”

“I thought it lost its way here and it is time for dinner, it was only appropriate.”

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

“Can you two keep it down?!” A screech came from the stairs and halted the crossfire like a switch before the owner of the voice even entered their field of vision, a fair hair flowing around a pretty face, a fierce glare seizing them. “Bloody old-married couple, do it somewhere else!”

“What she said,” a grumble agreed from the bar, and a tall, four-armed spider demon picked a small pig from the floor and cuddled it to his fluffy chest, cooing at it gently.

“Well, sorry for trying to save my little baby from this guy,” he glared at his enemy from under long, white fringe. “He’d eat him. Eat Fat Nuggets!”

“Oh dear, you already named it?” the red-eyed demon twirled his microphone in his hand, his smile widening. “You should have told me. Would adjust the name on the menu.”

“Keep talkin’, big boy, I have enough venom to make you spend your day in agony,” the spider hissed and the pig in his arms snorted happily, apparently finding all the commotion amusing. “And not the good kind.”

“I am looking forward to it, darlin’,” Alastor crooned and Vaggie made a retching noise when she finally reached the bar. Husker didn’t need her to ask for a drink, he was already pouring her one – and one for himself. It wasn’t like she condoned the bar in the hotel, but sometimes it was a much-needed way of coping, especially when it came to these two.

“Can you leave already?” she turned back towards them once she gulped the alcohol down, grimacing at the burn crawling down her throat. “Angel was talking about this for a week and now you stand here for whatever reason for half an hour, you should’ve been gone by now!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about it for a week,” Angel shot back while pursing his lips. “Just few days, maybe.”

“A week?” Alastor crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucky. I was hearing about it since he got here.”

“Well excuse me for being sentimental,” Angel stuck his tongue at him and walked towards the bar, handing Fat Nuggets to Husker, who eyed the pig warily.

“I ain’t looking after that fucking thing.”

“Pleaaase.”

A groan, but the cat demon took it, rolling his eyes. “Last time though.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Angel winked and left the bar in easy stride, joining Alastor in the middle of the hall. “Shall we?”

“Only waitin’ for you, cher,” Alastor offered his arm and Angel locked their elbows together. “You sure you don wanna take da pig with you?”

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

“I’ll fuckin’ smack ya, stop it,” he grumbled at the laugh Alastor didn’t even bother hiding, and let the man lead them out of the hotel.

The red sky above their heads was like an everlasting void pierced by a tall, dark tower in the distance and Angel kind of liked how demons were afraid to come close to it, yet to him the place felt like home. The Radio tower came with big overlord territory and despite it being rather far from the hotel, Angel insisted on walking instead of Alastor using the portals to get them there in seconds. It just felt more date-like rather than abusing the Radio Demon powers and Alastor didn’t argue about that – which was nice because normally he argued about everything for the sport of it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel hummed while leaning into Alastor’s warmth on their way through the Pentagram city. “Christmas is ‘bout Jesus being born and shit. No reason to celebrate it here.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. “Christmas bein’ a big Christian secret.”

“Har har,” the spider demon nudged him. “I’m new, don’t make fun of me. Can’t help I miss it.”

“Of course you miss it,” Alastor freed himself from Angel’s hold, just to sneak his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s when you met me.”

“Yer so fuckin’ cocky, maybe I just miss the presents,” Angel crossed his upper arms on his chest, but his lower one curled around Alastor’s waist as well.

“I’m da only present you’ll ever need~,” the Radio demon singsonged and Angel barked out a laugh.

“Guess that’s not completely wrong,” he admitted and when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, he met Alastor’s lips halfway in a chaste kiss, both not even stopping on their way to the tower.

“You’re da only one for me too,” Alastor whispered softly. “My dear Anthony.”

Angel couldn’t help but think life is fucking overrated when your boyfriend is owning your heart in all kinds of ways.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor x angel dust #au #the deal series #human!angel dust

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parkjmini · 7 years ago

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Outlier | the end

poly!au: park jimin x reader x kim jennie while your lovers said they needed you, you wondered if they knew how much you needed them. word count: 3988 genre: angst warnings: explicit language

[an]: nothing is medically accurate lmao im so sorry i researched like 70 percent and then i implied everything else so dont trust me idk what im talking abt. but a BIG thank you to everyone who sent me so so so much support and feedback for this entire series bc i wouldn’t have had the motivation to finish. getting those messages after posting a chapter made me giddy for my own story and i know what happens. I truly love interacting with my readers and going into plot/character analysis, i just love hearing everyone’s thoughts and thinking processes bc we all interpret things differently, again, thank you everyone who enjoyed reading this story (:

prologue . 01 . 02 . 03 . 04 . 05 . 06 . 07 . 08 . the end

After confirmation of the surgery, it became prepping sessions. Your doctor slowly took you off the chemo and gave you medication to ease any discomfort. You were given less visiting hours because you needed to rest.

But your troubles stirred when you were alone. The moment replayed in your mind when Jennie told you that they were broken up. There was nothing you could say, nothing for you to fix. Jennie and Jimin were respectfully dating you, aware of your decision for still wanting to be with the both of them. It didn’t feel the same though, it didn’t feel secure or safe.

There was no way you could date them separately. Jimin lacked what Jennie brought to the relationship and vise versa. It wasn’t complete without the both of them. Your nurses didn’t let you worry about that, brushing away Jimin and Jennie during your resting hours.

Jungkook visited you once after you added him back onto your list. He also brought you a vase of your favorite flowers. There was part of you where you didn’t want to make things awkward, but the other part didn’t allow for that. Instead, you blurted out that you knew about his crush on you. Then, he left quickly after you rejected his offer to be with him.

Hoseok respected your time and didn’t visit when he wasn’t allowed to. You were aware of how he had other important events in his life, but you really wished he tried to see you more. You’d hate to admit it, but Hoseok seemed to be the only person you could turn to for any non-biased advice. Since he stopped coming around often, you had to turn to your nurses.

The two weeks were absolutely the dullest moment in your life. You thought that living in your small town with your mom was bad, this was worse. You were stuck in a huge hospital with no friends majority of your stay. Your nurses were only with you for max ten minutes before they needed to go. You had the television, sleep, and your own nervousness.

Surgery was a big decision, so big that you even called your mom about it. You didn’t have the best relationship with your mom, so calling her was a surprise to even her. She totally didn’t bother to follow up on your life, so she never called first. But, you couldn’t go into surgery with the possibility of death and not tell her about it.

She offered to fly over and you insisted that she didn’t. So when she arrived to see you, you didn’t hesitate to give her a piece of your mind.

“What are you doing here? I told you that you didn’t need to come. Where did you find which hospital I was staying at?” You groaned into your pillow.

Your mom set her things down and crossed her legs while she took a seat across from you. “I asked the school. I’m your mother, for fucks sakes.”

“Yeah, well you didn’t think that when I was growing up, so now that I’m dying, you decide you should start caring.” You rolled your eyes at her gasp.

“How dare you say that to me? I raised you when your dad walked out on us.”

“If you think being drunk and picking me up from my after school programs means raising me, then yeah. You did great mom.” Your sarcasm came out in train wrecks when it came to your mom; she drew the worse out of you.

“(Y/N), you have cancer and you decide to let me know when you’ve already decided for surgery is not exactly the most responsible daughter thing you pride yourself to be.” She shot back.

Your nurse came in to cue that she only had 15 minutes left before she needed to leave. “It honestly didn’t cross my mind that I needed to tell you since you’ve never cared enough to call me these past years except to invite me to your stupid wedding. Might I also add that you didn’t tell me about until the day before, so that makes two of us.”

“I didn’t raise you for you to treat me like this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, what are you saying? But how about we talk about something else, since that’s all we ever talk about. News flash, mom, I have fucking pancreatic cancer and I’m going into surgery tomorrow. I’ve been going to chemo these past three months and I have almost to no hair. My body is bruised from being poked by needles. I am dying! Thanks for even having the audacity to come see me before my maybe death tomorrow. Don’t let the door hit you in the face.” You shouted as loud as your lungs let you go.

Your door opened and you both stopped your argument to see Jennie and Jimin standing under the frame. They looked stunned and confused to see the lady who you resembled. “Did we come at a bad time?” Jimin asked.

“No, since this is your visiting time.” You crossed your arms, glaring at your mom.

“Who are you two?” She asked, rudely.

“Mom, that’s my boyfriend, Jimin and that’s my girlfriend, Jennie. Welcome to the modern society of polyamorous relationships where I love two people at once.” Jennie and Jimin have never heard such sarcasm run out of your mouth. You were always just subtle, but this side of you was new.

“Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Jennie stepped forward and your mom got up.

“Well, I can see that you have a whole double life I know nothing about. I guess you don’t need me anymore. Good luck on your surgery and whatever you call a relationship.” She grabbed her things and walked past Jennie and Jimin.

“She was pleasant.” Jimin said sarcastically and you rolled over on your side.

“This is why I never brought you home with me for the holidays.” Jennie hurried to cuddle up to your side.

“At least we avoided an awkward argument over Christmas dinner.” She chuckled and kissed your ear.

Jimin sat on your opposite side. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Sitting up in Jennie’s arms, you buried your face in your hands. “No. I’m so scared.”

“You’re going to be fine. Jennie, Hoseok and I are going to be right outside of your door. We’re going to be with you when you’re recovering. We’re with you every step of the way, we already packed our go-bags.” Jimin tried to comfort you, but you sobbed into your hands. You couldn’t help but cry so much nowadays. Staying strong was hard when you were so vulnerable.

“And if something happens? Will you be there with me?” It was a rhetorical question that caused them to both fall silent.

“Nothing will happen. They’re highly trained professionals and I made sure you had the best surgeon in this hospital.” Jennie bragged proudly and Jimin laughed.

“Yeah, seeing her demand it was very terrifying. But, she did it. You’re in good hands, baby.” Jimin smiled and kissed the top of your head.

“Can you two just lay with me for the last couple of minutes before my nurse comes and kicks you out?” You sniffed and moved over for Jimin to join the sandwich fest.

“(Y/N), I love you so much.” Jennie and Jimin said in unison, and the unsettling feeling set back into your system.

A group of nurses and surgeons rolled you into a double door room. It was dim, except for the big spotlight that shined above you. Squinting, you saw the surgical masks that blinked back at you.

“Ready?” Your doctor was smiling behind her mask.

“No.” Your voice trembled from your nerves; your palms slick with sweat. “I want to be okay.”

“And you will be, (Y/N). We’re going to start with the anesthetics and we’ll get everything going. Relax, I’m right here.” She held onto your shaking hand and you stared back up at the bright light.

You felt the drugs enter your system, slowly stripping away your consciousness. You’ve already cried out all night your worries and said a few important goodbyes before the day arrived. The jittery feeling caused your body to shake uncontrollably and you were so terrified. This could mean recovery or death.

And while you hoped for survival, you knew the chances were split between the two options. Death was unavoidable, but to die so early shook your bones. Your dreams have just been memories of past events in your life, reminding you of the life you lived. The life you might soon leave. It was harder to ignore death than it was to wish for recovery.

Once your eyelids fell over your eyes, you’ve never felt more alone in your entire life.

“Would you stop pacing? You’ve been walking back and forth for the past two hours.” Jennie complained.

Jimin stopped in his tracks and narrowed his eyes at her, “I’m nervous.”

“What happened to ‘it’s going to be fine’ and ‘you don’t need to worry’?” Jennie laughed and Jimin rolled his eyes.

“I can’t help that my body reacts the way it does when I’m the slightest worried. How are you so calm about this? They’re literally cutting her open in that room.” Jimin gestured to the closed doors.

“By not thinking about it like that. I’m thinking about the lovely time I get to spend with my girlfriend when she’s done.” Jennie muttered.

Jimin walked up to her and pointed to his chest, “you mean my girlfriend?”

Hoseok pushed the two apart. “She’s both of your’s. Are you two done making a scene in a hospital?”

Jimin went over to sit next to Hoseok’s other side, making him stuck in the middle of a not-so-friendly feud. Even though they showed up together for visits, they were incredibly hostile to one another when they were alone.

They slept in separate beds, Jimin taking over your room and Jennie in her’s. They ate dinner with their own friends and didn’t bother to tell each other about their whereabouts. They mostly spoke to each other in scoffs or groans.

Suddenly, the hallway doors were slammed open and nurses were rushing in a big machine --- a defibrillator.

The three of them stood up, seeing how rushed and hurried the nurses looked. The surgery door opened and a surgeon walked out with sweat dripping down the side of his head. The sound of a flat line heartbeat caught the attention of Jennie.

“Her heart isn’t beating, is it?” She was afraid to hear the answer to her question, her chest rising and falling violently.

Your doctor held the door open for the other nurses and defibrillator. “Her pulse went out, but we’re doing our best. But prepare for the worse.”

Jennie collapsed onto the floor, bawling. “Holy fuck, we’re going to lose her!” She shouted with heavy tears running down her face. It was like her words pulled Jennie’s heart down to the pit of her stomach. Her whole mind and body were shutting down at the news.

“You have to stay calm, Jen.. we’re in a hospital.” Jimin tried to get her up, but she kept slipping his grasp.

“I don’t care! That’s our girl in there and her heart isn’t beating!” She exclaimed and Hoseok helped with holding her up.

Jimin’s head was in shambles, utterly speechless at what was happening. Hoseok was numb to the news, unaware to how to react. They wanted to stay optimistic, that the defibrillator will work. It had to work.

“Why don’t you two go outside and get some air? I’ll stay here for any further news. Please... it’s not a suggestion. Go.” Hoseok needed to clear them out before they both stressed him out more than he already was.

Jimin walked Jennie outside. The light breeze clearing their heavy, crazy minds. Jennie was choked up by her tears, constantly wiping at her wet cheeks. Jimin stared at the ground, listening to her sorrows. His heart too heavy to express.

“Aft-er -- everything.. --Jimin --- I’m.. really, truly sorry...--” Jennie had trouble speaking with the endless waterfalls from her eyes.

“--Jen..” Jimin barely got out.

“No.. listen to me first. I’ve felt really guilty about all the rumors. We should’ve never gotten together in the first place, especially with someone like me. I’m known as the campus hoe, right? I can’t hold onto a stable relationship even if I wanted to and now my --- girlfriend --- is-- she’s -- dying.” Jennie cried harder, holding her face in her hands as she slid against the wall and onto the ground.

“I didn’t do anything with Jisoo ever. I don’t know how many more times I need to tell you, but I would never hurt you or (Y/N) like that, especially coming from a place where that has happened to me multiple times. Maybe you’ve always secretly doubted our relationship, considering how we got together through an accidental one night stand.”

“Through our three months together, I fell head over heels for you, Jimin. I’ll admit it. I liked (Y/N) first, but you had a piece of me I didn’t think I could give to anyone after Taehyung. You’re so open, so understanding, so kind. I’ve never fully gotten the chance to explain myself because you keep shutting me down and every time, I believed that my explanation doesn’t matter. I’ve been devalued my entire life by my partners and sadly, I made myself feel that way with you when you ignored my pleads. But I think now is the best opportunity to tell you because we honestly don’t have anyone else who understands us the way we do. We’re both suffering because our girlfriend is in there not breathing. Our girlfriend, Jimin. I love you and through everything, you’re the one of the only people in this world who knows my struggles.” Jennie held him by the shoulders, so he could look her in the eyes as she gripped onto the only hope left in her life.

Jimin invited her into his arms, holding her tight. He had forgotten why he was upset before. He just wanted to be with his girls. He wished, hoped, prayed that things were back to how they were before the misfortune.

“I’m sorry for making you feel invalid. I’m sorry for hurting you the way I did.” He admitted and Jennie sobbed harder into his chest.

“It’s okay... -- we’ll --- be...”

“--- Okay?” Jimin finished off and she nodded.

You couldn’t breathe or move. Your lungs collapsed into your chest and you struggled to supply oxygen to your body. You screamed, but no noise came out and your arms were glued to your side. It was like you were trapped in a motionless body.

Everything was turning fuzzy and a white light blurred your vision. This was it. You were dying. You weren’t sure what realization hit you. Maybe it was the lost of breath and your heart rate slowly declining. Maybe it was the blinding light that caught your attention ahead.

Your memories started flashing before you. Jennie and Jimin flooding your mind. Your eyes scanned for anyone else, but them. However, you were left with scenes of your once perfect relationship.

Your first date night. It was the day you officially joined your partners. Jennie hurried you down to meet Jimin. He was cleaned up nicely, standing all cool against his sleek car. He peered up to see Jennie with the biggest smile on her small face, hand holding yours.

She told Jimin the news and he was overjoyed, ready to hold you in his arms. He rushed you into the car and it didn’t feel much different than it was when all three of you hung out. The only difference was that you’ve never been more intimate with your best friends.

Your first kiss. You anxiously sat next to Jimin on the couch during a lazy movie fest you were having with them. He had his arm wrapped around you, twirling the ends of your fingers with his. Your heart beating so fast, being not use to the touching from either of them.

He picked up your chin, knowing that you were distracted. It was an instant spark once your eyes connected and soon, your lips did as well.

Your first ‘I love you’. This moment was one of your favorites. It was Jennie’s birthday and you three were excited for the day ahead. However, a huge storm was rolling in and you were almost home. Jimin insisted in stopping to buy more snacks before rushing back.

Once you all stepped out from the convenience store, it was showering, pouring heavy amounts of rain. Jennie, you and Jimin were drenched within seconds of going outside. Your plastic bags filled up an inch with collected water. Jimin’s leather seats in his car pooled with rain. All three of you laughed with glee as you marveled the escape from the wet mess.

And you suddenly stopped to admire the way Jimin’s eyes disappeared cutely and how Jennie’s nose scrunched up, her adorable snort catching your attention. In the midst of their happiness, you blurted out, “I love you two.”

The news of your mother’s wedding. An invitation was addressed to you. It had pretty cursive handwriting and a beautiful design. It was a wedding for your mom and her boyfriend, inviting you to join them for an evening of unity. You weren’t aware of them even being engaged, let alone a marriage.

Jennie and Jimin never mentioned your mom, knowing you didn’t like pressing on too much about her. Their initial reaction was for you to go, until you explained that you didn’t even know she was getting married. You had crumpled up the invitation and threw it away in the trash.

Jennie consoled you, reassuring you that it was perfectly fine that you don’t attend. While you sulked in the living room, they approached you with the idea of still giving your mom a gift to congratulate her. It showed that you were the bigger person and that you acknowledge her efforts. They made you a better you.

Throughout every flashback, and every memory, your heart was searching for something beyond them, an image that wasn’t them. You laid there, dying, and all you saw was your girlfriend and your boyfriend. There had to be more than that and your heart was looking, waiting, for any other memories to surface.

But nothing. It was only them and you couldn’t help, but feel a little disappointed. For the last few years of your life, you’ve revolved your entire world around these two people. You’re alone, not because you’re not social, but because you chose to focus all of your efforts into your relationship. And as you slowly lost sense of your consciousness, you became regretful about how you lived.

You heard distant voices, “1, 2, 3!” and you slowly opened your eyes. There was a rush of air that filled your lungs. Your vision adjusted to the bright spotlight and the many surgical masks above you.

“She’s awake! We got her pulse!” They cheered and one of the nurses pulled down his mask.

“You’re going to be okay, Ms. (Y/N). The surgery was a success.” He smiled and you nodded, reaching for his hand to hold to make sure it was your reality.

“We’re going to move you to your recovery room now, but you did really well.” The young nurse cheered with so much excitement, there were tears in his eyes. He was a complete stranger that just saved your life, yet he was even crying for you.

“T-Than-k yo-u.” You barely made out and he patted your shoulder. You shut your eyes again and felt the bed move and the voice of Hoseok calling after you as natural light hit your eyelids.

Several hours after the surgery and going over the post-surgery care, you carefully sat up in bed. Hoseok had to leave, but the two stayed. Jennie held onto you tighly, and Jimin blinked at you with stars in his eyes. But the thought you had while you were close to death never left your mind.

“There is something I need to talk to you about.” You began, and Jimin and Jennie shared glances. “There was a lot to think about when I went under, my heart stopped for a few minutes and I was so close to my death. All I saw were our memories. I saw you two, but... something inside of me longed for something else, something more.”

“If it’s not the three of us, then I don’t want to be in an individual relationship with either of you. That would mean making me choose and I don’t love one more than the other. It’s either both of you or neither. I will always love you two with all that my heart has to offer, but my life is so valuable and I need someone who is going to recognize that. I realized that the best for us is that there simply is no us. I love you both so much, I really do, but right now is not the right time. I’ll never forget us. ”

“Jennie, you were the first girl I love. Jimin, you were the first boy I love. But throughout it all, I won’t try to remember us. Maybe we’ll realize each other’s worth once we’re ready for it and we’ll be new people when we meet again.”

Jennie didn’t let go of your hand, instead, she nodded to every single word that you poured from your heart. “If that’s what you think is the best option for us, then I’ll accept your decision.” She agreed and no longer shed any more tears. She knew it was for the better, even if it did break her heart.

With a turn of events, Jimin was actually the one crying this time. Jimin’s tears spilled down his plump, supple cheeks. It was difficult for him to talk.. it was difficult for him to express how he felt in general. “I felt so regretful because I thought I was going to lose you forever when I was ready to trade my life for your’s. I’m just happy you’re alive and breathing. I respect your decision and I think that you’ll always know what’s best for us three.”

Your heart was healing, bit by bit. The shock of almost death woke you up and you no longer wanted to be trapped in something that didn’t seem to work out well anymore. It was time for an end. It was time for change and you were more than thankful to have Jennie and Jimin, who loved you so much, they were willing to let you go and live life with no more regrets.

Jennie smiled before gently kissing your hand, “I’m unsure how long me and Jimin would’ve lasted without you, but we were two people who fell out of love for each other, but back in love through you. I want you to know that even though you felt like you didn’t belong in our relationship, you were actually the connection between us. You were the reason there was an us.”

It was an epiphany ---- you were not the outlier in the relationship. You were the core center. Jennie and Jimin were more than thankful to have you in their lives, who loved them so much, that you were willing to look past their differences and to fight through every trial.

“You were the reason there was an us.” That single line replayed in your thoughts, in a constant loop. And you smiled at Jimin and Jennie, the monitor beeping being the only noise in the room.

“I love you both, don’t you ever forget that.”

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