Chapter Text
When Vaggie awoke with a splitting headache and an unfamiliar warm arm thrown over her belly, the worst kind of scenarios ran through her head. She could only vaguely remember what had gone on last night after a group therapy session had ended in a shouting match. Then there was ice cream with Charlie and Niffty to attempt to end off on a good note, except for the harrassment at the ice cream shop. Then Niffty suggesting they go back to the hotel and one little Bloody Mary led to another, stronger drink, and Charlie was crying, then laughing. Niffty was in the chandelier to clean it and then...Vaggie had gone back to her room, right? She didn't think she went back out, right??
She attempted to open her eye but it was far too bright in the room. All she caught was a flash of red wallpaper before she squeezed her eye shut. She sucked in a deep breath and then another as she tried to remember more details. She wasn't sure she liked the details she remembered. She remembered twisting her hands into a cute red bob cut, black fingers laced with hers, the press of her lips against a mouth that let out a startled gasp...then those lips slowly giving way under hers... And now she lay under soft sheets with a warm body curled against her.
Oh no. She'd fucked Niffty. That's probably why she had sounded so startled. Niffty had made it well-known that she was straight as an arrow, and Vaggie's heart pulsed with the fear that she'd coerced the little ladybug into bed with herself, another woman. Shit.
But then she'd remembered hands on her waist and sharp teeth pressed against the skin of her neck, so Niffty had definitely been an eager participant. Plus, Niffty had upper-body strength like nobody's business. If she wasn't into it, she could easily yeet a drunken Vaggie out a window. With that settled, she felt a little more at ease with the idea. Niffty wasn't really her type, but...
Then she felt the soft breath of her bed partner against her neck, deep and even, and she noticed she also felt the barely-there press of what was definitely a knee against the back of her calf. She realized then that it definitely couldn't be Niffty curled asleep behind her. She was much, much too small to be whoever she'd spent the night with. Who else? Red hair, black hands? Vixie, the resident fox demon with the coke habit? Hopefully not, that woman may be sexy as fuck, but her attitude stank of something nasty, not to mention sleeping with a client was... She just about prayed she hadn't slept with a client.
No, Vaggie had definitely remembered a bob cut, not the long silky strands the fox sported. Was there another woman in or around the hotel with red hair? She seriously didn't think she'd left the hotel, so chances were that she hadn't fucked a stranger.
She eased her eye open to let it adjust to the light of morning as she fought hard with her pounding head to remember what had gone on. She noticed a full glass of water and a little green glass bottle of pills on the nightstand beside her. How sweet of whoever this is, she thought, before she heard a quiet, sleepy groan behind her.
A distinctly masculine groan.
Horror shot through her as her eye opened wide. Please don't let it be. Please let it be anyone else. Anyone else but him. She would rather it be Zach the sleezy cashier, or shit, Angel Dust in a red wig would be preferable.
But as she heard a quiet crackle of radio static, her stomach dropped out. She twisted around in the arms that held her and faced her current living nightmare. Dozing behind her was the radio demon. He looked peaceful, without a care in the world, hair mussed, eyes shut and lips slightly parted, without his signature grin. Lips--some insane portion in the back of her mind noted--looking slightly bruised and bitten.
Her chest heaved then, and she instinctively shifted away, but his arms squeezed on her waist. His face twitched and his eyes cracked open, blinking twice before opening halfway. His lips curled up at the edges and he uttered a soft "good mor--" before she scrambled away and he reflexively released her. She fell off the bed and Alastor shot into a sitting position as she scuttled back from the bed a pace before she got to her feet. She had a spear summoned and held out before her as Alastor just blinked at her, mouth hanging open, dumbfounded with wrinkled clothes, shirt unbuttoned, and hair sticking up at odd angles.
The sudden movement sent jolts of pain stinging through her head as she grasped her temple. Upon seeing her bare arm, she dropped her spear noticing then that she stood only in her underwear and socks. She clasped her arms over her chest, thinking with horror that she was wearing her white lace set, which hid almost nothing behind the sheer fabric. Alastor's mouth snapped shut and his eyes went wide before both of his hands came up to cover his face.
Vaggie shook her head at this reaction, realizing he'd probably seen it all the night before anyways. She dropped her hand away from her bra and held out her spear once again.
"What the fuck. Where are my clothes?"
"You took them off," Alastor explained behind his hands. Vaggie got her real answer that very moment, spying her skirt and blouse on his floor. She quickly bent to pick them up and she noticed then the disgusting feeling that was the half-congealed fluids in her panties. It wasn't a ton, and she couldn't tell if it was just a lot of discharge or if he'd actually cum inside her. Oh god. No way would she ever let a man cum inside her. Shit.
Had he finished inside?
"Are you sure you didn't take them off?"
"I assure you that I did not do anything of the sort. Now if you would just sit back down and let me expl--"
"Absolutely not, you goddamn," why in the nine circles would she let him cum inside her? She wouldn't, that's why-- "pervert!"
She held her clothes to her chest and turned towards the door. She got all the way to the handle when something wrapped about her wrist and yanked her back. Alastor's shadow held her in place. She shrieked in fury and sent a blade at it, making it release her. She threw open the door and ran out. From her shadow came a hand to wrap about her ankle now, sending her spiraling onto the floor of the hallway. She was then being drug back into the open doorway.
...
"You didn't have to do that, you oaf," said Alastor as he stumbled from his room, hand outstretched towards the dark being. He was speaking to his shadow, not Vaggie.
"I HEARD A SCREAM!" said Charlie, skidding to a stop from a sprint around the corner. Charlie blinked as she took in the scene. She looked at Vaggie, sprawled on the floor and disheveled in only her bra, panties, and socks, a very distinctive bitemark to her neck. She looked at shadow, crouched behind her with a hand around her ankle and dragging the moth along back inside Alastor's room. She looked at Alastor, standing in his doorway, also disheveled with his shirt partway unbuttoned, arm outstretched to the moth.
Alastor didn't think the situation looked very good for him from an onlooker's perspective. Rather, he knew it was quite easy to misconstrue the current goings-on between himself and his feisty moth friend. Especially with his shadow acting rather foolishly, and without his command.
A loud panting and footsteps broke the moment of silence as another staff member came into the hall. Husk halted beside Charlie, grasping his side and wheezing.
"Goddamn, I'm out of shape," he paused, taking in the scene "...oh shit."
Alastor's shadow released the moth's leg, still staring at Charlie and Husk. To her credit, Charlie only pursed her lips as Vaggie got to her feet. She waved a hand and a fuzzy pink bathrobe draped over the moth's form. Ah, if Alastor had been awake for a single moment longer he surely would have thought of that. Just his morning coffee, or at least a piece of toast. Vaggie stalked off silently and his shadow bled into the ordinary shadows, leaving Alastor alone in the hall as the sounds of doorlocks engaging echoed in the hall, preventing sinners from poking their heads out to spy on the commotion.
He tapped his shirt and his clothes set themselves to rights as Charlie's gaze slid over him. He slipped his hands behind his back.
"Well, darling Charlie, I understand that you might think--"
"Al," she said softly, "I don't want to jump to any conclusions--"
"As you shouldn't! You see, as I'm sure you're well aware--" he interrupted.
"But what the actual fuck?!" She pointed a single finger at the Radio Demon. Her hair slid from its ties and flickered about her form like a flame.
"I see you're jumping to conclusions. I assure you that whatever it is you're assuming is one big misunderstanding."
From behind her, Husk cleared his throat.
"Uh, princess?"
Charlie's hair slid back into place as she took in Husk's uneasy posture, a hand rubbing his neck, as if he were embarrassed by something.
Oh of course! Husker had quickly vacated the vicinity, but he had seen some of the goings-on of the previous night--initially to Alastor's chagrin--but what a standup chum he was.