Of fucking course the old bastard left it. He had a feeling that might have been the case but there was still a small part of him that told him that the deer was dodging him. Next time Angel was going to stick a fucking tracker on the asshole. Though the state of the demon's ears didn't go unnoticed and Angel's brow cocked with curiosity.
"What's the point of having the damn thing if ya don't carry it?" Angel huffed in annoyance. But an idea sparked in his head. Slipping off the bar stool Angel crossed over to stand in front of Alastor. "Lets go check on it together."
One, it was an excuse to get him alone and two... He wanted to get his hands on the deer's phone before he saw it. He sent.... a lot of messages. Some of which were... embarrassingly emotional? Like some drunk girl texting her exe. If Al hasn't seen them then, he didn't need to know how worried sick he had been.
"I'd like to point out that I never wanted the blasted thing to begin with," Alastor said. He crossed his arms, grin tightening. "And I believe I can handle going to check on my own cellular device without an escort. Thank you."
Honestly? He wanted to just go to his room and see what he could do for his injuries. He was aching, he was tired, and the hotel was a place he felt safe enough to recover after the exhausting Cleanse.
Unfortunately for Alastor, Angel was not going to take no for an answer. A wicked grin spread across his face as the porn star leans in super close so that the deer was the only one that could hear him.
"Oh I think you're going to want my help. While you were away I might have sent you some..." Angel placed a gentle hand on Alastor's shoulder getting right up on one of his ears. "...intimate images of yours truly that you may not want to see~ Unless you want to take the risk and delete them yourself~"
Alastor cringed at both the close contact and the idea of him having been sent lewd photographs. He studied Angel's face, looking for signs of a bluff, ears twitching backwards.
"...Very well. But only for a few minutes."
Husk slammed his head down on the bar counter. Fuck. His. Life.
Bingo, there it was. You can just hand him is Oscar now. Though the thought of sending Alastor naughty photos has crossed his mind a few times just to watch the deer twitch. He was glad that Alastor took the bait.
Angel popped back up and beamed down at Alastor. "Then lead the way, Sweet Meat." Then he gave Husk a tiny wave. "Thanks for the drink~"
Waiting to be lead up stairs a thought struck him. This would be the first time he has ever seen the inside of the illusive deer's room. They have been in his own countless times by now. He wondered how Alastor kept it. If he had to guess, he bet it was simple and classic. There was a little spark of excitement inside him, getting a peek behind the curtain.
Alastor started leading the way up to his room, only the tiniest hint of a limp visible. The show must go on, after all.
"You are aware of what sweet meats are, aren't you?" Alastor asked dryly as he hit the button to call the elevator. He was too tired to do another teleport even though it would've been easier.
Other overlords had fortresses they set up to protect themselves during the Cleanse, deep in their respective territories where they could hunker down in. However, Alastor had no such luxury. Instead, he spent the whole day running, chased by an Exorcist or two. He used the opportunity to lead the angels towards targets of his choosing rather than just random slaughter. And if doing so meant he led the angels away from weaker demons who'd been forced out of their own shelters by more powerful ones? Well, that was lucky for them, wasn't it?
He entered the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. His room was a few floors up from the others'. Nobody wanted to be around him, anyway. It only made sense to stay isolated.
Angel followed closely behind Alastor, humming happily to himself as his eyes playfully scanned the deer up and down. "What? You're sweet and I like you're meat~" If he wasn't afraid of instant karma, Angel would have slap that fine ass to bring home his point. But he resisted.
When the elevator doors closed and the two of them were alone, Angel leans his back against the wall his smile faded. Through the jokes he was glad to see Alastor in one piece. It was a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. He only teased to keep himself together. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Glad you're back." Angel's voice was hushed. "You alright, Al?"
Alastor shook his head in response to Angel's suggestive comment. Both to express exasperation and to cover the fact he got "sweetmeats" and "sweetbreads" confused for a moment. Definitely time for bed.
As the doors closed and Angel asked his question, Alastor sighed. "Just a bit tired, my dear. I've been on my feet for the past twenty-four hours and had to use my powers more than I wanted to. A little rest will do me good."
He held himself stiffly however, praying that the red of his clothing would obscure the wounds that he'd earned.
"Extermination Day is always rather tiring for me. Nothing to be concerned about."
What Alastor said might be true. The Cleanse was a rough time for everyone down here in Hell. However Angel was having doubts that fatigue was all the that was going on. The way the deer was moving since he walked through those doors felt stilted. Almost how a wounded animal tried to conceal their pain from predators so they wouldn't get picked off. Angel himself had done similar things in the past when his pimp roughed him up before going on stage or when he tried to hide it from the residence of the hotel.
Angel cocked a brow at him. "As someone who makes a livin' off faking it, you got to try harder than that to fool me." His eyes traveled down the deer's frame when something suddenly caught his eyes. He has ogled the demon countless times to notice there was something wrong about his jacket. His eyes shot open, reaching out a hand towards the radio host. "Wait Al.. Is that... blood?"
"It's nothing!" Alastor said hastily, stepping away from Angel and mentally swearing as he realized he'd just put himself in a corner. Dammit. "Probably some leftover viscera from the ones who weren't quick enough to get out of the way!"
He glanced at the elevator panel. Couldn't this blasted thing go any faster?!
The way he recoiled was evident enough. It was far more reactive than the usual 'no touchy' Alastor he knew and loved. Angel took a step forward, but he lowered his hands so not to frighten the already started deer.
"Al, open your jacket." Angel placed his hands on his hips sternly. "Don't make me strip you. Lucifer knows I will."
Alastor's ears flattened. He didn't want to obey but he didn't want to get stripped either. At least if he was controlling how he opened the jacket, he might get away with it.
He opened the opposite side from a major injury. Other than some torn fabric and a little bit of blood on this side, there was nothing too worrisome.
Yeah, no. Angel was buying it. The look on his face grew harsher.
"Ya think I'm stupid or something? That cut isn't big enough to cause bleedin' on the other side of your coat, genius. I'm asking you one last time to show me or I'm going in." He raised bother sets of hands. "And you may not like it but I sure will~"
Alastor completely removed his jacket, hoping he could position it over one arm in time before Angel saw the large cut across his ribcage. It had stopped bleeding hours ago but it still hurt like crazy. He hadn't had time to properly clean it and given how filthy Hell was? Well, it was probably at least partially-infected. He hadn't had time to check.
"Jesus fucking Christ Al!" Angel blurts out when the jacket was properly pulled away.
It was bad, of god it was bad. He didn't know what he was expecting but this was far worse than what he was picturing. How the hell was the guy still walking around with an injury like that?! He could smell the bitter scent of dried blood in the air. Before Angel could do or say anything else the elevator dinged as they reached their floor.
Angel's head snapped around to the opening doors. "Close you jacket Al. Let's get you cleaned up ASAP."
Alastor put his jacket back on, glad to once again be covered. Really, it could've been much worse. He'd gotten a little careless this year, however.
He reached into his jacket pocket, gripping the pocket watch tightly. He calmed somewhat. Good. He still had it.
He led the way to his room, flicking a finger to apply a bit of magic to undo the lock. Then he very deliberately turned the knob to the left. He'd boobytrapped the door just in case someone tried to come in to kill him. Niffty was one of the ones who knew the trick to opening it safely.
For the first time, someone other than Niffty got to see the inside of Alastor's room. To be honest, it was a bit sad: It was a standard hotel room. No personal effects to be found. There was a small shrine and a sewing kit on the desk along with a set of heavy red curtains on the window to keep it dark and to make it impossible for a sniper to get a proper shot, but otherwise? It was just another hotel room. If he left tomorrow, it wouldn't look any different.
Alastor did a little bow, managing to bite down the grimace at the action. However, his side shrieked in pain. "After you, my dear."
Angel waited with bated breathe as he watched Alastor cast some magic voodoo shit on the door. He always knew he did something special to keep people out. Trust him, was had a lot of time on his hands and was very bored. He may or might not have tried to sneak a peek inside once or twice when the demon wasn't around. Of course his attempts always ended in failure. So when the door opened he sprung through the doorway to see..! A hotel plain old room? Well, that was rather disappointing but not completely unexpected. With out mobile the radio demon was, why would he bog himself down with junk? Still... it was a bit sad. The only thing of note was the shrine, which Angel had a feeling was more of his voodoo hoodoo shit he knew little about.
Welp, on to the matter at hand. Strolling inside like it was his own room he headed to the bathroom to draw some warm water. Boiling water would have been better but hey, it was better than nothing. Being from a mob family he knew a thing or two about patching people up from getting shot or stabbed.
"Get on the bed and take off your shirts. We gotta wash out that cut." Angel called from the other room. There was no hint of his usually flirty bravado. "Hey Al? You got anything to disinfect?"
"I assure you I can handle myself, Angel. I've had to patch myself up many, many times over the years!"
He gave his biggest grin even as he clutched at his clothes. He didn't want to strip down in front of anybody. In a strange sort of way, his clothes were his armor, his shield. He looked far too thin with his clothes on. Without them...
...well, there were many reasons Alastor didn't like his own reflection.
"Quit your bitchin' and get your skinny ass on the bed." Angel reemerged from the bathroom was bowl of warm water a clean towel.
It was very obvious from the stubborn look on the spider's face that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. You know how fucking worried he was about your dumb ass? Way more than he wanted to admit. This was something he felt like a had to do, what he needed to do. Like hell if he as going to let Alastor kick him out now. Marching over to Alastor's bed, Angel pulled up a chair to stare at him expectantly.
"You want that wound to get more infected? Stop being a stubborn old bastard and take off your damn shirt before more of the dirty fibers get inside the wound." He turned to look away as he placed the bowl on the nightstand, dabbing the towel into the warm liquid. "I'm not leaving. So be a good boy and do what I'm askin' before I do it myself."
Well, this was certainly a side to Angel that Alastor hadn't seen before. It would've been much more entertaining to observe it from the outside as he harangued some other soul.
Alastor slowly, reluctantly removed his jacket again. He hesitated at his shirt. His body was still fully-covered given the long sleeves and high collar, but he just didn't want to do this. It was difficult for him to just remove his bowtie to prepare himself for his shirt.
"...I want you to tell no one what you see," he said sharply.
Angel's head rolled back over to stare at Alastor flatly. The porn star was not impressed. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. I won't tell anyone. I've seen more naked bodies than I care to count. There ain't nothing to write home about. Now quit stalling and strip."
He pats the bed in front of him, the spider's patience was growing thin. But no, let the deer move at his own pace. Any sexy thoughts of seeing Alastor without his shirt on were the last thing on his mind. He genuinely wanted to help patch him up. Maybe those thoughts would happen to sprout in his mind later after the fact but.... Now was not that time.
Alastor sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly removed his shirt. He barely held in a grimace as the edges of the fabric were pulled free from the wound, opening it back up a bit. A little bit of what might have been pus came with it.
He gripped the edge of the bed tightly, glaring down at the floor so he didn't give in to his instinct to bolt into the bathroom.
Beneath his clothing, Alastor was skin pulled taught over a thin skeleton. Part of his punishment for gluttony, for consuming the flesh of other humans. It went perfectly with his inability to ever really satisfy the eternal hunger he suffered from.
But the absolute worst part was the scars.
There was hardly any of his original skin left visible. They crisscrossed over one another, new ones stacking on top of the old. Some had a faint white glow to them, evidence of near misses with angel weaponry. But the most numerous scars, the oldest scars, were bite and claw marks as if he'd been eaten alive. (He hadn't been but only because the dogs' owner had shown mercy in putting him out of his misery.)
There wasn't even a twitch on Angel's face when Alastor shirt was pulled free, revealing what was underneath. Man... he could see why the radio demon didn't want him to say anything. Angel always could tell that the deer was wicked thin under his clothes, but in his many fantasies, to which there was many, he never imagined how badly scarred he was. Were these all caused by people after his death? Just shows much he was hated and feared. It made him... sad. But damn, if he said that scars weren't sexy he would be lying. Okay fine, there was one sexy thought. What? He was only human!
Angel adjusted his seat so that Alastor was firmly between his legs. Gingerly he reached out to pick up Alastor's arm on his badly wounded side to rest it on his shoulder. "Put your arm here. It'll get tired if you hold it up by yourself while I wash out that wound. Now this might sting."
The spider cautioned as he took the damp towel to start wiping the skin around the wound first, clearing it of blood and debris.
Alastor tensed but didn't remove his arm from Angel's shoulder. Instead, he kept his gaze focused on the floor...which meant looking between Angel's legs. Urgh. This was so awkward...
"Thank you, Angel."
It was for more than just cleaning his wounds. It was also for not saying something about his scars or his body. He was embarrassed enough.
Angel silently smiled to himself, continuing to carefully wash the skin around the open wound. This was a huge gesture, the spider thought. He was one of the privileged few to see the great and powerful radio demon like this. Alastor trusted him. Though he wished it was under better circumstances.
"Don't thank me quite yet. We're not at the good part." Angel chuckled to himself, rinsing off the blood soaked rag before moving in to clean out the more tender parts. "You really got roughed up. What happened out there?"
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"What's the point of having the damn thing if ya don't carry it?" Angel huffed in annoyance. But an idea sparked in his head. Slipping off the bar stool Angel crossed over to stand in front of Alastor. "Lets go check on it together."
One, it was an excuse to get him alone and two... He wanted to get his hands on the deer's phone before he saw it. He sent.... a lot of messages. Some of which were... embarrassingly emotional? Like some drunk girl texting her exe. If Al hasn't seen them then, he didn't need to know how worried sick he had been.
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Honestly? He wanted to just go to his room and see what he could do for his injuries. He was aching, he was tired, and the hotel was a place he felt safe enough to recover after the exhausting Cleanse.
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"Oh I think you're going to want my help. While you were away I might have sent you some..." Angel placed a gentle hand on Alastor's shoulder getting right up on one of his ears. "...intimate images of yours truly that you may not want to see~ Unless you want to take the risk and delete them yourself~"
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"...Very well. But only for a few minutes."
Husk slammed his head down on the bar counter. Fuck. His. Life.
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Angel popped back up and beamed down at Alastor. "Then lead the way, Sweet Meat." Then he gave Husk a tiny wave. "Thanks for the drink~"
Waiting to be lead up stairs a thought struck him. This would be the first time he has ever seen the inside of the illusive deer's room. They have been in his own countless times by now. He wondered how Alastor kept it. If he had to guess, he bet it was simple and classic. There was a little spark of excitement inside him, getting a peek behind the curtain.
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Alastor started leading the way up to his room, only the tiniest hint of a limp visible. The show must go on, after all.
"You are aware of what sweet meats are, aren't you?" Alastor asked dryly as he hit the button to call the elevator. He was too tired to do another teleport even though it would've been easier.
Other overlords had fortresses they set up to protect themselves during the Cleanse, deep in their respective territories where they could hunker down in. However, Alastor had no such luxury. Instead, he spent the whole day running, chased by an Exorcist or two. He used the opportunity to lead the angels towards targets of his choosing rather than just random slaughter. And if doing so meant he led the angels away from weaker demons who'd been forced out of their own shelters by more powerful ones? Well, that was lucky for them, wasn't it?
He entered the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. His room was a few floors up from the others'. Nobody wanted to be around him, anyway. It only made sense to stay isolated.
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When the elevator doors closed and the two of them were alone, Angel leans his back against the wall his smile faded. Through the jokes he was glad to see Alastor in one piece. It was a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. He only teased to keep himself together. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Glad you're back." Angel's voice was hushed. "You alright, Al?"
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As the doors closed and Angel asked his question, Alastor sighed. "Just a bit tired, my dear. I've been on my feet for the past twenty-four hours and had to use my powers more than I wanted to. A little rest will do me good."
He held himself stiffly however, praying that the red of his clothing would obscure the wounds that he'd earned.
"Extermination Day is always rather tiring for me. Nothing to be concerned about."
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Angel cocked a brow at him. "As someone who makes a livin' off faking it, you got to try harder than that to fool me." His eyes traveled down the deer's frame when something suddenly caught his eyes. He has ogled the demon countless times to notice there was something wrong about his jacket. His eyes shot open, reaching out a hand towards the radio host. "Wait Al.. Is that... blood?"
Insert silent panic.
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He glanced at the elevator panel. Couldn't this blasted thing go any faster?!
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"Al, open your jacket." Angel placed his hands on his hips sternly. "Don't make me strip you. Lucifer knows I will."
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He opened the opposite side from a major injury. Other than some torn fabric and a little bit of blood on this side, there was nothing too worrisome.
"There. Are you happy now?"
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"Ya think I'm stupid or something? That cut isn't big enough to cause bleedin' on the other side of your coat, genius. I'm asking you one last time to show me or I'm going in." He raised bother sets of hands. "And you may not like it but I sure will~"
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Alastor completely removed his jacket, hoping he could position it over one arm in time before Angel saw the large cut across his ribcage. It had stopped bleeding hours ago but it still hurt like crazy. He hadn't had time to properly clean it and given how filthy Hell was? Well, it was probably at least partially-infected. He hadn't had time to check.
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It was bad, of god it was bad. He didn't know what he was expecting but this was far worse than what he was picturing. How the hell was the guy still walking around with an injury like that?! He could smell the bitter scent of dried blood in the air. Before Angel could do or say anything else the elevator dinged as they reached their floor.
Angel's head snapped around to the opening doors. "Close you jacket Al. Let's get you cleaned up ASAP."
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Alastor put his jacket back on, glad to once again be covered. Really, it could've been much worse. He'd gotten a little careless this year, however.
He reached into his jacket pocket, gripping the pocket watch tightly. He calmed somewhat. Good. He still had it.
He led the way to his room, flicking a finger to apply a bit of magic to undo the lock. Then he very deliberately turned the knob to the left. He'd boobytrapped the door just in case someone tried to come in to kill him. Niffty was one of the ones who knew the trick to opening it safely.
For the first time, someone other than Niffty got to see the inside of Alastor's room. To be honest, it was a bit sad: It was a standard hotel room. No personal effects to be found. There was a small shrine and a sewing kit on the desk along with a set of heavy red curtains on the window to keep it dark and to make it impossible for a sniper to get a proper shot, but otherwise? It was just another hotel room. If he left tomorrow, it wouldn't look any different.
Alastor did a little bow, managing to bite down the grimace at the action. However, his side shrieked in pain. "After you, my dear."
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Welp, on to the matter at hand. Strolling inside like it was his own room he headed to the bathroom to draw some warm water. Boiling water would have been better but hey, it was better than nothing. Being from a mob family he knew a thing or two about patching people up from getting shot or stabbed.
"Get on the bed and take off your shirts. We gotta wash out that cut." Angel called from the other room. There was no hint of his usually flirty bravado. "Hey Al? You got anything to disinfect?"
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He gave his biggest grin even as he clutched at his clothes. He didn't want to strip down in front of anybody. In a strange sort of way, his clothes were his armor, his shield. He looked far too thin with his clothes on. Without them...
...well, there were many reasons Alastor didn't like his own reflection.
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It was very obvious from the stubborn look on the spider's face that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. You know how fucking worried he was about your dumb ass? Way more than he wanted to admit. This was something he felt like a had to do, what he needed to do. Like hell if he as going to let Alastor kick him out now. Marching over to Alastor's bed, Angel pulled up a chair to stare at him expectantly.
"You want that wound to get more infected? Stop being a stubborn old bastard and take off your damn shirt before more of the dirty fibers get inside the wound." He turned to look away as he placed the bowl on the nightstand, dabbing the towel into the warm liquid. "I'm not leaving. So be a good boy and do what I'm askin' before I do it myself."
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Alastor slowly, reluctantly removed his jacket again. He hesitated at his shirt. His body was still fully-covered given the long sleeves and high collar, but he just didn't want to do this. It was difficult for him to just remove his bowtie to prepare himself for his shirt.
"...I want you to tell no one what you see," he said sharply.
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He pats the bed in front of him, the spider's patience was growing thin. But no, let the deer move at his own pace. Any sexy thoughts of seeing Alastor without his shirt on were the last thing on his mind. He genuinely wanted to help patch him up. Maybe those thoughts would happen to sprout in his mind later after the fact but.... Now was not that time.
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He gripped the edge of the bed tightly, glaring down at the floor so he didn't give in to his instinct to bolt into the bathroom.
Beneath his clothing, Alastor was skin pulled taught over a thin skeleton. Part of his punishment for gluttony, for consuming the flesh of other humans. It went perfectly with his inability to ever really satisfy the eternal hunger he suffered from.
But the absolute worst part was the scars.
There was hardly any of his original skin left visible. They crisscrossed over one another, new ones stacking on top of the old. Some had a faint white glow to them, evidence of near misses with angel weaponry. But the most numerous scars, the oldest scars, were bite and claw marks as if he'd been eaten alive. (He hadn't been but only because the dogs' owner had shown mercy in putting him out of his misery.)
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Angel adjusted his seat so that Alastor was firmly between his legs. Gingerly he reached out to pick up Alastor's arm on his badly wounded side to rest it on his shoulder. "Put your arm here. It'll get tired if you hold it up by yourself while I wash out that wound. Now this might sting."
The spider cautioned as he took the damp towel to start wiping the skin around the wound first, clearing it of blood and debris.
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"Thank you, Angel."
It was for more than just cleaning his wounds. It was also for not saying something about his scars or his body. He was embarrassed enough.
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"Don't thank me quite yet. We're not at the good part." Angel chuckled to himself, rinsing off the blood soaked rag before moving in to clean out the more tender parts. "You really got roughed up. What happened out there?"
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