Alastor closed his eyes as they swayed. True, it wasn't the most exciting dance, but that wasn't important. Before his dance with Charlie when he'd joined the hotel, he hadn't danced with anyone in years. Who would want to? Honestly, no one even wanted to talk to him most of the time, assuming he'd try to rope them into a deal.
No. No, he refused to think about that now. Let the alcohol and the dance take him away.
Still...
"Whatever you want, if it's within my power, it's yours," he murmured.
He'd heard Angel make comments about how one activity or another didn't come cheap. VIP treatment like this must cost an arm and a leg, but Alastor didn't mind. It was only money and magic. He knew how awkward this must be for Angel. Making him an offer that was in essence a blank check seemed a small price to pay.
Tonight wasn't exactly what Angel had pictured would happen. After being cooped up in that stuffy hotel, Angel wanted to let his hair down, so to speak. Get drunk and hunt for dick. But how the evening's events had unfolded wasn't necessarily unenjoyable. Never in a million years would he have thought he would have a totally wasted Alastor in his arms in his bedroom slow dancing like a couple of awkward virgins at the high-school prom. This totally went against his bad boy image. Yet for now... he was going to take comfort from this quiet moment.
But then Alastor spoke making Angel's head jerk up. For a minute he blinked wordlessly down at Al. Oh he was so drunk... did he realize what he was telling him? He could have ANYTHING he wanted. Deep within the sinner's twisted mind flashed his darkest lustful desires he held for the radio demon. But just as quickly as they danced across his mind, Angel chased them away. It wouldn't be right...
Instead Angel looked down with an unfamiliar softness as he stroked Alastor's hair. "How about I take a rain check on that offer? I doubt you'd be as generous if ya knew what you're offering me. In the morning you can bet I'll be bothering you about it."
Angel would quickly discover that Alastor's hair was sinfully soft. He was the only person in ages to take such liberties with the Radio Demon, the alcohol making Alastor a lot less touch-averse.
Alastor looked up at the spider. "The off--hic!--offer won't be going anywhere anytime anywhen soon." He giggled at his own almost-nonsensical sentence, body twitching against Angel's with another, larger hiccup.
Somehow, Angel's hand brushed the base of one of his fluffy ears. The sensation rolled down and back up his spine, prompting him to close his eyes and moan in bliss.
Instantly Angel's hand froze as if he just touched something he shouldn't have. That noise was the last sound Angel would think for the Radio Demon to make. It sent a tingling shiver down his spine that made his whole body vibrate with desire. God, he wanted to hear it again. Wanted to see what other fun noises he could arouse from him. How could one simple sound turn him on so so badly? It was painful. He could feel his already frayed nerves beginning to shred.
With the last reminds of his willpower, Angel reluctantly removed his many hands away from Alastor, holding them up in some sort of surrender.
"You should call it a night, Smiles. You know I'm a no good lustful sinner. I don't think I can hold myself back for much longer if you keep moanin' like that."
Without the support of Angel's hands, Alastor stumbled as the gently swaying room made it difficult to find his footing. His smile thinned to almost non-existent as he looked up at Angel, eyes filled with confusion and hurt, ears slowly lowering in distress.
They were having such a good time! They'd been dancing and Angel had even stroked his ears! What had happened?! What had he done wrong?!
Alastor's internal receiver swung wildly through the stations as drunken understanding hit Alastor:
He wasn't just some sinner. He was Alastor the Radio Demon. Feared by all in Hell. Nobody wanted to talk to him, much less dance with him. What had he been thinking?
Angel's radio switched stations mid-song as it synced with Alastor's internal receiver. Nat King Cole's voice began crooning away:
♪♫ Smile though your heart is aching Smile even though it's breaking When there are clouds in the sky You'll get by ♪♫
"...I understand."
Alastor's face spread into a wide smile before he turned away from Angel. He stumbled and nearly fell but he caught himself with the nightstand.
He was still very, very drunk but he was no longer the bubbly, happy-go-lucky drunk of only a few moments before. His mood had crashed. Now he wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and drink until he blacked out, hoping that Husk's prescription to numb any and all pain would work.
The dramatic shift in mood in Alastor caused Angel to internally panic. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Thats not-
Actually, this whole evening has been a rollercoaster of emotions for the spider. Drink with Alastor, I said. It'll be fun, I said. Which, at first, Angel found great amusement in how uninhibited the deer had been. Even teased the shit out of him. Seeing Al so outside of his usual self had been fun, even the annoying parts of trying to drag his drunk ass out of the club to protect his ass. And now he was trying to protect the demon from himself.
When Alastor stumbled Angel reflectively reached out to try to catch him but hesitated just mere inches from him. Damn, if he touched Alastor again he....
"Al, no, it's not..." Angel pleaded weakly, pulling back his arms to wrap them around himself in an attempt to resist the temptation of placing them on the deer, "Look Smiles, its not that I don't want to touch ya again. Its very much the opposite. With you moaning and shit... I'm tryin'.... I'm trying to hold myself back from doing somethin' I can't undo if I did it. Say what you want about me, but I'm not the type of guy who'd lay hands on someone blitzed out of their minds."
A sober Alastor would've understood. It was always so easy to give into one's inner demons here in Hell. There was no incentive not to. Honestly, he'd likely share the act with Charlie just to watch her squeal, beam, and annoy the ever-living hell out of Angel about his progress in resisting temptation.
Only Alastor wasn't sober. Thoughts he'd drowned earlier had risen to the surface again with a vengeance, coiling their dark tendrils around him and dragging him down towards the abyss now that Alastor was far too drunk to resist.
But he smiled at Angel. Smiled and laughed and spun on his toes in a grand sweeping pantomime of amusement. The laugh track that accompanied his stumbling was slow and twisted, like a cassette tape being played on a tape player whose batteries were running low. "Oh, my dear, there's no reason for excuses! I do understand! Truly!" He hiccupped and danced a few uncertain steps to the melancholy tune, not-very-subtly putting distance between himself and Angel. "Thank you for such a del-delightful evening but you're right: I'd best be on my way!"
His head swam as the shadows began coiling around him like chains. He belonged to them and the empty, freezing, lonely darkness. He'd had his fun. It was time to go.
Angel clenched his teeth in frustration as his fingertips dug uncomfortably into the flesh of his arms. This wasn't Al. Or maybe it was, just a really pitiful side of himself. Either way, it crawled under his skin.
"It ain't an excuse!" Angel bowed his head, baring his teeth, "You know for a damn fact that if you were sober and you give me the slightest hint of the green light I would mount you so fast your back would give out!" The death grip on his arms loosened as he lets out a long heavy sigh, the anger he felt subsiding slightly. "Think what you want right now. Hate me if ya want. Makes no difference. I'm sure in the morning you'll be thankin' me."
Angel's jerked up to give Alastor a questioning stare. What the fuck does that mean? Alastor doesn't hate him? That sounded false but alright. The radio demon has made it quite clear on several different occasions on how he felt about him... And right now the poot deer was drunk as a skunk. Angel shouldn't take anything he said seriously.
"You must be really out of it if ya' spoutin' nonsense like that." There was no way in Hell Al liked him. He didn't really even like himself.
"I mean it," Alastor slurred. He took a stumbling step towards the two Angels in front of him, the shadows tugging insistently at him but not enough to get him to stop. He started poking the chest fluff of the one slightly to the right. "I don't like your propositions. You're vulgar and irritating. And you seem to think it's funny to wind me up to the point where homicide crosses my mind."
Alastor's drooping ears twitched as he lowered his hand. He lowered his eyes, giving a wry chuckle interrupted by hiccups.
"But ironically that's...that's why I don't hate you. You didn't run away or slam the door in my face or attempt to threaten me when we first met. You...you actively seek me out to annoy me. It's not just me, the quiet in my ears, and the radio in my head."
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No. No, he refused to think about that now. Let the alcohol and the dance take him away.
Still...
"Whatever you want, if it's within my power, it's yours," he murmured.
He'd heard Angel make comments about how one activity or another didn't come cheap. VIP treatment like this must cost an arm and a leg, but Alastor didn't mind. It was only money and magic. He knew how awkward this must be for Angel. Making him an offer that was in essence a blank check seemed a small price to pay.
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But then Alastor spoke making Angel's head jerk up. For a minute he blinked wordlessly down at Al. Oh he was so drunk... did he realize what he was telling him? He could have ANYTHING he wanted. Deep within the sinner's twisted mind flashed his darkest lustful desires he held for the radio demon. But just as quickly as they danced across his mind, Angel chased them away. It wouldn't be right...
Instead Angel looked down with an unfamiliar softness as he stroked Alastor's hair. "How about I take a rain check on that offer? I doubt you'd be as generous if ya knew what you're offering me. In the morning you can bet I'll be bothering you about it."
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Alastor looked up at the spider. "The off--hic!--offer won't be going anywhere anytime anywhen soon." He giggled at his own almost-nonsensical sentence, body twitching against Angel's with another, larger hiccup.
Somehow, Angel's hand brushed the base of one of his fluffy ears. The sensation rolled down and back up his spine, prompting him to close his eyes and moan in bliss.
"Do that again..."
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With the last reminds of his willpower, Angel reluctantly removed his many hands away from Alastor, holding them up in some sort of surrender.
"You should call it a night, Smiles. You know I'm a no good lustful sinner. I don't think I can hold myself back for much longer if you keep moanin' like that."
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They were having such a good time! They'd been dancing and Angel had even stroked his ears! What had happened?! What had he done wrong?!
Alastor's internal receiver swung wildly through the stations as drunken understanding hit Alastor:
He wasn't just some sinner. He was Alastor the Radio Demon. Feared by all in Hell. Nobody wanted to talk to him, much less dance with him. What had he been thinking?
Angel's radio switched stations mid-song as it synced with Alastor's internal receiver. Nat King Cole's voice began crooning away:
♪♫ Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You'll get by ♪♫
"...I understand."
Alastor's face spread into a wide smile before he turned away from Angel. He stumbled and nearly fell but he caught himself with the nightstand.
He was still very, very drunk but he was no longer the bubbly, happy-go-lucky drunk of only a few moments before. His mood had crashed. Now he wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and drink until he blacked out, hoping that Husk's prescription to numb any and all pain would work.
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Actually, this whole evening has been a rollercoaster of emotions for the spider. Drink with Alastor, I said. It'll be fun, I said. Which, at first, Angel found great amusement in how uninhibited the deer had been. Even teased the shit out of him. Seeing Al so outside of his usual self had been fun, even the annoying parts of trying to drag his drunk ass out of the club to protect his ass. And now he was trying to protect the demon from himself.
When Alastor stumbled Angel reflectively reached out to try to catch him but hesitated just mere inches from him. Damn, if he touched Alastor again he....
"Al, no, it's not..." Angel pleaded weakly, pulling back his arms to wrap them around himself in an attempt to resist the temptation of placing them on the deer, "Look Smiles, its not that I don't want to touch ya again. Its very much the opposite. With you moaning and shit... I'm tryin'.... I'm trying to hold myself back from doing somethin' I can't undo if I did it. Say what you want about me, but I'm not the type of guy who'd lay hands on someone blitzed out of their minds."
no subject
Only Alastor wasn't sober. Thoughts he'd drowned earlier had risen to the surface again with a vengeance, coiling their dark tendrils around him and dragging him down towards the abyss now that Alastor was far too drunk to resist.
But he smiled at Angel. Smiled and laughed and spun on his toes in a grand sweeping pantomime of amusement. The laugh track that accompanied his stumbling was slow and twisted, like a cassette tape being played on a tape player whose batteries were running low. "Oh, my dear, there's no reason for excuses! I do understand! Truly!" He hiccupped and danced a few uncertain steps to the melancholy tune, not-very-subtly putting distance between himself and Angel. "Thank you for such a del-delightful evening but you're right: I'd best be on my way!"
His head swam as the shadows began coiling around him like chains. He belonged to them and the empty, freezing, lonely darkness. He'd had his fun. It was time to go.
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"It ain't an excuse!" Angel bowed his head, baring his teeth, "You know for a damn fact that if you were sober and you give me the slightest hint of the green light I would mount you so fast your back would give out!" The death grip on his arms loosened as he lets out a long heavy sigh, the anger he felt subsiding slightly. "Think what you want right now. Hate me if ya want. Makes no difference. I'm sure in the morning you'll be thankin' me."
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Once more, there was no static in his voice. He was "off the air" for a moment. In vino, veritas.
"I hate a lot of people, but you're not one of them."
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"You must be really out of it if ya' spoutin' nonsense like that." There was no way in Hell Al liked him. He didn't really even like himself.
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Alastor's drooping ears twitched as he lowered his hand. He lowered his eyes, giving a wry chuckle interrupted by hiccups.
"But ironically that's...that's why I don't hate you. You didn't run away or slam the door in my face or attempt to threaten me when we first met. You...you actively seek me out to annoy me. It's not just me, the quiet in my ears, and the radio in my head."