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“Cut!” Valentino shouted. He wasn’t mad at Angel, he knew that, but he knew that it was always possible that Val would take out whatever he was angry about on him. The guy who had been fucking Angel had been obscuring his face too much. Angel’s entire body was what people paid to see, face included, of course, Val would get angry if the money maker couldn’t be seen.
Fucking was certainly the right word. At least when he was alive his partners had been relatively gentle with him. Now every guy he slept with was too rough, gripped him too hard, and left bruises under his fluff. His eyes were already watering from a combination of makeup being in them and the lights being too bright. “Angel, baby, may I see you in your dressing room~?”
Fuck, that voice. That tone, the slime, always meant that Angel was walking out with a black eye. He followed after Valentino, pulling a magenta silken robe over his nude form. He didn’t have much dignity left, but it was still nice to pretend. He nudged the door open with a clawed foot, letting Val in before he did. He was tempted to say “ladies first” or some playful bullshit, but it would just make things worse. Angel knew that.
“Angel, you know what we do here, yes?” Angel nodded, but Val of course didn't care. It didn't matter what he said, it would never be good enough for his pimp. “What was that, slut?”
Val's grip was on Angel's face, his nails much too sharp, his voice punctuated by an insectoid squeak. Angel grunted, an ugly noise for such a pretty face. “Y-Yes, Valentino…”
“Good, the bitch can learn.” He let go of him, letting Angel fall backward into a velvet, spinning chair he sat in to do his makeup. “We make porn, Angel. And if people are gonna watch the porn, they're probably watching it for you. And how the fuck are they supposed to see you if you let your fucking whore face get blocked by some nobody?!”
His eyes, all eight of them, began to burn with tears. “Val, it wasn't my fault, he-”
“Did I ask for an excuse?!” The backside of Val's hand hit Angel's cheek. In theory, his fluff should have taken the brunt of the force. And yet, that would be too fortunate for Angel. “I don't want excuses, Angel, I want results. You know that. You have five minutes to fix your fucking makeup, and then I want you back in that fucking bed, do you understand me?”
He nodded, almost shyly. Val gripped his face again. Angel squirmed. Val's mouth bubbled with red, silken smoke. It weaseled its way into Angel's mouth and down his throat. His head began to spin, his arms feeling heavy at his sides. “I don't like doing this to you baby, you know that. Five minutes. Got me?”
He nodded, his head heavy on his shoulders. “Yes, Valentino…”
The door behind him slammed shut as he slumped further down in his chair, gasping for air and coughing on the smell of cigars and sex. If nothing went wrong, if he just grinned and bared it, he’d be out in two hours, back at the hotel, snuggled up with a drink and his beloved Fat Nuggets. No more bruises, no more sex for the night, all he would have to do is relax and unwind. He was carrying so much tension in his shoulders, all four of them, and Val’s stupid fucking smoke couldn’t fix that.
He wiped the runny, cloudy eyeliner from his eyes, replacing it with a fresh coat and fanning it with one hand to make it dry faster.
Two hours, an hour and a half if he was good.
It had not been an hour and a half. It had not been two hours. And it also had not been his fault. Angel had no idea he was working with a fucking amateur, they’d need to reshoot pretty much the entire thing four times, and the… finishing shot, let’s say, had happened way too early. At least the bed was comfortable, but laying in one spot for that long while essentially getting his back broken over and over was far from it.
He was just happy to be home…
… At the hotel, not home. Angel didn’t have a home, he just had a roof over his head. The hotel was just a palace he could stay rent-free with free food and booze. That was it. This was not his “home”.
He staggered into the entryway of the hotel, eyes immediately darting to the bar. There was Husk, half asleep, but still sitting behind the bar, a half-cleaned glass in hand. Angel chuckled, “You still up?”
“‘Knew you’d be back late.” Husk shrugged. “Thought you’d want a drink when you got back.”
“Aww, so thoughtful~! Thanks, Babycakes~...” He chuckled, reaching sluggishly across the bar for his whiskey shots. “Mind makin’ me something stronger, Whiskers? It’s been… It’s been a long night.”
Husk didn’t question it, thank Luci, and instead got to work selecting a glass. “Any requests?”
“Sex on the beach~.” He giggled. It was kind of funny that the only kind of sex he enjoyed was a drink.
… Did he enjoy sex? He was certain he had at some point, but he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe it was just because he was having it all the time because it was his job. If he quit cold turkey he’d probably enjoy it more when he went back. Blow was like that, when he quit it for about a week it was ten times better when he inevitably went back to it. And it wasn’t even like he hated sex or like he didn’t want to have it, it was just… not as exciting as it probably should have been.
The drink was presented to him with an eye roll from Husk. “Thank you, babycakes~.”
The feline bartender rolled his eyes again, raising an eyebrow as Angel rose from his seat and strutted back to the hall his room was in. “You goin’ so soon, Legs?”
“Wanted to see more of me?” He snickered. “Nah, I’m spendin’ my night with Nuggsie~...”
Speaking of Fat Nuggets, he was scratching at the door before Angel even had the chance to open it. He scooped up his pet pig, nuzzling his nose against his beloved pet. “How Nuggsie doin’, huh?”
Fat Nuggets snorted happily, snuggling into Angel’s chest fluff. He giggled, flopping down on his bed with his pig in his arms. Nuggets once again snuggled close to his favorite “person” and fell asleep with a happy squeal. Angel Dust knew better than anyone that Nuggets couldn’t sleep without him, and it had become a mutual thing. He couldn’t sleep without his pet in his arms anymore, which he certainly wasn’t going to complain about. Nuggs was a good companion, much better than any bedmate he’d ever had. Hell, even Cherri had a habit of tossing and turning that kept him up all night. She was great, don’t get him wrong, but no one held a candle to his baby.
Then his head started to swim with tired, drunken thoughts of Fat Nuggets. What if Nuggs could be redeemed like Charlie was so convinced Angel himself could? What if Nuggets had cute little wings like an angel? Okay but what if he multiplied and Angel had like… twenty Fat Nuggets? That would be too many Nuggets, but a spider sinner could dream. Oh, what if he grew to the size of a building? Started causing chaos, crushing buildings like Godzilla but… a pig. That’d be funny.
He was just about to fall asleep when someone knocked on his door. Nuggets squealed, scrambling closer to Angel out of nervousness. He grumbled something, threw up in his mouth a little, and rose from his bed with his weight on his second set of arms. His voice sounded groggy from the liquor, and scratchy from the shoot. “Who is it?”
“Hello, my effeminate friend~!” A static-ridden mid-Atlantic voice singsonged from the other side of the door. Angel rolled his eyes. “I know it’s rather late, but Charlie wanted me to give you something. I assumed you had retired for the night, my apologies if you were already asleep.”
He didn’t sound sorry. Angel’s brow furrowed and he let the Radio Demon into his room begrudgingly. “Make it quick, I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”
Alastor produced an envelope from his breast pocket, his large, fake smile still plastered on his face. Angel waved a wrist flippantly, gesturing for Alastor to open the envelope himself, that he wasn’t going to. The deer man sliced open the envelope with a sharpened claw and scanned the letter over. “It appears there is to be a Pentagram City pride festival in the Underworld District, and you are invited.”
“Oh great, Val wants me parading around in bondage gear. Fuckin’ fantastic.”
“It isn’t from Valentino.” Alastor clarified, cocking his head. “It’s from Princess Charlotte Morningstar, you’re to be a guest of honor.”
He froze up for a second, his words dying on his tongue. He felt… almost touched? Like, out of every gay person in hell Charlie had chosen him. He assumed Vaggie would be coming as a plus one, so that made enough sense, but… Him? Why not someone else who was a better representation of the movement? Angel was gay, sure, but he was hardly more than a set of hands and a set of holes. That’s all anyone ever saw him as.
“Damnit, Chuck…”
Alastor stood, smiling still, radiating an air of expectancy. “Well? What would you like me to pass along?”
“She’s Lucifer’s daughter,” he sighed, “I don’t think I have much of a choice.”
“Would you rather not attend? It’s a celebration, you love those!”
It felt a bit reductive to say Angel liked parties. Sure, he went to them a lot, and he got way too drunk, high, or both at all of them, but overall he was just neutral about them. He liked anywhere he could get drugs or money. He shrugged both sets of shoulders. Alastor stood in front of him, unblinking. “It seems something else is bothering you, my friend. Would you like to talk about it?”
“Me talk to you about my problems? No thanks. If this is just a desperate ploy to get in my skirt, try again another night, I’m fuckin’ exhausted.”
He could see Alastor cringe at the notion of the two of them having sex. He’d known for a while that Alastor was asexual, completely sex-repulsed too. It made pushing his buttons all the more fun. He smirked. Alastor did not. “Never happening, Angel. You can beg and scream, and it won’t do you any good.”
“Hey, your loss.” He giggled.
“Angel.” Oh, wow. Alastor was actually using his name. Not his real name, of course, no one at the hotel knew that. No one at the hotel needed to know. Of course, he was sure Alastor would figure it out someday, but for now, he could keep that card close to his chest. “I have a very simple question to ask of you.”
Angel raised an eyebrow. Alastor took that as an invitation. “Are you attracted to me?”
The star laughed, snickering behind a gloved hand. “I mean it.”
He stopped. Was he? He didn’t think he was, not that way, at least… Alastor’s type, big powerful top dogs, were usually his clientele, so maybe that was why Alastor made him feel… weird. Or maybe it was because Alastor was so insanely powerful. Maybe that was it.
“I don’t think so.”
“Good,” Alastor barked, “Because I am completely uninterested in… carnal acts with you. Or union. Or anything closer than platonic.”
“Got a problem with me, huh?” Angel furrowed his brow.
There was a pause for a moment. Angel’s mind, still fuzzy with liquor and sleep, had begun to run again. Was he attracted to… anyone that way? He had sex all the time, sure, but that was for work. He was getting paid, and forty bucks was forty bucks whether he liked it or not. He didn’t hate it, it just felt like he still didn’t have the right person… Maybe the right person didn’t exist.
“Alastor, I’ve got a question for you.”
Alastor was smiling brightly again. “Fire away!”
He paused. This was a weird thing to ask… “Am… Do you think I could… maybe… possibly be asexual?”
“Well, I’ve never met an asexual person who has as much sex as you do, my friend. But to be fair, I’ve also never met a person who has as much sex as you. I understand it’s for work. Do you enjoy it?”
“I mean… I guess, at least a little.” He felt stupid for asking in the first place. “It’s fine once it’s happening, but I don’t feel… attraction to people in that way. Does that make sense?”
Alastor… actually nodded. “That does indeed sound like asexuality, just with an openness for sex. That isn’t unheard of.”
Angel’s heart leaped in his chest. Jesus fucking Christ, he wasn’t some kind of freak of nature, he was just asexual. He was still a person. That… felt really good to hear.
“Okay… That’s… Validating…”
“What do you want me to tell Charlie about the event?”
“Tell her I’ll be there!”