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The Contract	By : Turkaholic Category: -Misc Cartoons > Slash - Male/Male Views: 262 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss. I do not make any money from this story

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Note: Have a light sprinkling of HuskerDust while we wait to get inside Al's head.
I just wanted to say thank you for all the amazing support so far - both here and over on X. This fandom is so full of love and talent and I feel so grateful for all the feedback so far.
Exceptional shoutout to @solwxxx55 on X, who drew the most AMAZING piece of art based on the scene in Chapter 4. They've given me permission to post the image in the fic over on Ao3, which I'm going to do shortly, but in any case please head over to their X profile and give them an incredible amount of love. They are insanely talented and have made my entire year with their art.

Chapter 6
Alastor’s wicked grin dropped away as soon as he heard the door snap shut behind him, his lip twitching slightly as he forced himself to maintain a smile. He stuck his pointed tongue between his teeth and licked away the trickles of blood on his chin, distracted. The air was colder out here, but it still smelled strongly of that sharp tinge of ozone that had always reminded him of Vox. He needed to get back to the hotel.
There was the soft chink of a teacup settling into a saucer.
With an inward grimace of impatience, the Radio Demon inclined his head, seeking out the glimmering yellow eyes in the darkness.
“Why, Zestial, I’d almost forgotten you were there.” He said pleasantly, smile still twitching. “Vox and I were having such a charming conversation.”
There was another muffled crash of breaking furniture beyond the closed office door.
Zestial was eyeing him quietly; a patient, investigative look as he surveyed the Radio Demon’s face. Alastor noted the momentary flick of eyes northwards towards his hair. He’d forgotten to fix it. His fingers twitched, but he kept his hands on the cane, not wanting to draw any more attention.
“Indeed?” Came the reply at last. Zestial’s hissing, echo of a voice almost sounded amused. There was an uncomfortably knowing glint in his eye. “This is glad news. Thou hast ended thy long enmity at last?”
Alastor paused before he spoke. “Of course.” he said tartly. Zestial’s face cracked into a glowing smile “I do hope this… trivial little disagreement didn’t take up too much of your precious time.”
“I shall tell Carmilla.” The older demon stood up from the sofa, looming over Alastor as he rose to his full, imposing height. “These tidings will ease her burden greatly. We need not hinder thy passage any further.”
“Delightful.” replied the Radio demon, shortly, the smile still twitching with the strain of holding it in place. “Well then, I look forward to our next meeting, my friend.”
Zestial inclined his head regally in response. Accepting this as leave to go, the Radio Demon placed both hands on his cane and cloaked himself in shadow. He had originally intended to walk back, but he was aching, tired, messy and wanted to reach the refuge of his own rooms as quickly as possible.
Zestial’s eyes followed intently as Alastor’s presence melted away into tendrils of smoke in the darkness, and then nothingness. He stood alone in the half lit chamber a little longer, eyeing the spot where Alastor had disappeared, as if musing it over.
After a moment, the silence was shattered by another muffled, static-warped shout of ‘FUCK!’ from behind the closed office door. Zestial closed his eyes, laughed gently to himself, then swept across the walkway towards the exit.

__________________________

“Ya think he’s dead?”
Angel Dust slid his finger around the rim of the shotglass idly, staring down at the cards fanned out in his hand. Husker snorted incredulously.
“That fuckin’ lunatic?” He looked up from the deck of cards spread across the bar. “Come on, if Carmine had tried to kill him, he’d have taken half the damn city with him. Even she ain’t that stupid.”
Angel sucked on his lower lip thoughtfully and sat back, looking into Husk’s face. He crossed his legs.
“I dunno… never seen that many big names in one place before. They looked pretty serious.”
“That’s just Overlord types for ya. Comes with the territory, Ange.”
Angel glanced up again. Husk was reshuffling his hand slowly, keeping it carefully tilted away from the other demon’s view. The spider demon’s face split into a smirk, showing his single golden tooth. He leaned bodily across the bar, resting his chin delicately on his hand.
“Oh, don’t tell me you used to be even more of a sourpuss than ya are now.” He murmured playfully. Husker’s pupils contracted. He snapped the hand of cards against his knee as Angel leant in closer.
“Hey, hey! Keep to your own side of the god damn bar, I ain’t having you sneaking a look at my cards. You tried that shit last time.”
Angel continued to smirk playfully into him and raised an eyebrow provocatively.
“Maybe that ain’t what I’m tryin’ to sneak a look at, baby.”
Husk’s whiskers twitched. He let out a frustrated sigh.
“Look, you wanna play poker or not? I don’t need no babysitter, so if you ain’t interested in the game, go the fuck to bed.”
Angel sat back on the stool with a thud, now looking vaguely annoyed. Outside the windows, the night sky was a deep, bloody red occasionally pierced by glittering stars.
The hotel was silent, most of the inhabitants already sound asleep. Charlie had insisted on staying up to see if Alastor came back, but she’d eventually fallen asleep on one of the sofas and Vaggie had carried her up to bed. Even Niffty seemed to have finally given up the endless hunt for roaches and gone to sleep. The only sound was the creak of Angel’s stool, and the soft shuffling as Husk rearranged his hand of cards quietly.
“Fine, hit me with another.” sighed Angel. Husk reached out for the deck of cards. Angel grabbed his hand and laughed. “A drink, ya mook. If I’m gonna sit here all night I’m gonna need a healthy flow of vodka in my veins.”
Giving the spider demon a suspicious look, Husk stood up from his stool. He placed his hand of cards pointedly on the shelf beneath the bar and grabbed the empty shot glass from Angel’s hand. As soon as he turned his back, Angel stretched silently across the bar, tilting his stool for a little extra reach. With a devious smirk he peered at the badly hidden hand of cards while Husker filled the glass from the optics hanging on the wall.
“So how come you have to stay up just because Mr. Creepy’s gone for a nighttime stroll?” Asked Angel as he leaned over. Husk glowered into the slowly filling glass, staring at the obviously cheating pink and white reflection.
“’Cause if I don’t, the son of a bitch’ll wake me when he comes in anyway.” He growled. He turned on the spot to find Angel sitting back innocently, his chin on his fist and a slightly guilty smile on his face. Still glowering, he slid the now full shotglass across the bar. “If it’s gone bad, he’ll want a drink; if it’s gone good, he’ll want a drink. No fuckin’ sense trying to sleep until he’s back.”
As he finished the sentence, the creak of the front door shattered the silence. Both demons turned their heads to watch as the tendrils of smoke dissipated from around the red-clad figure who stepped through the door. Angel’s jaw dropped.
Alastor looked a mess. Dried blood was smeared across his cheek, his coat looked even more tattered than it normally did, and there were dark blue stains splattered across the red shirt. His normally carefully quaffed hair was a tangled mess, and he seemed to be moving a little tenderly.
“You look like shit.” Angel blurted.
The Radio Demon stopped in his tracks. He turned to see the two figures propping up either side of the bar, both looking him over with shock in their faces. His eyes darted to Husk.
“A little late for poker night isn’t it, my good man?”
“Are you kidding? You got marched outta here by half the Overlords in Hell, what did you expect us to do?”
Alastor smiled. “Your concern is… touching, Husker, but really quite unnecessary.”
Husk bristled, fur standing slightly on end. “I never said I was concerned. I just wanted to know what the hell happened.”
There was the briefest pause as Alastor’s fingers gripped more tightly around his cane.
“Oh, nothing you need concern yourselves with.” He said with a light laugh, wafting a hand in midair, dismissively. “They simply wanted my help to conclude some business.”
“...uh huh.” Husker was examining him now. Beyond the obvious dishevelled state of him, something was a little… off. He’d known Alastor long enough, seen him through the eyes of both a friend and then a servant, to see that something was on his mind. Not that he expected the son of a bitch to come clean. Even when they’d been equals, he’d always played his cards close to the chest. “Well… as long as we ain’t about to get invaded by a bunch of butthurt Overlords, I guess we can stand down.”
Angel looked from Alastor to Husk with a confused expression. He stood up from the stool and placed a hand on his him impatiently. “You kiddin’? He looks beat to shit! What are you talkin’ ab-” the sentence trailed off as Husk leaned across the bar and grabbed one of his arms warningly. He gave the spider demon a quick shake of his head.
“So… I guess you’ll want a nightcap.”
“Naturally.” Alastor said imperiously. He turned away and began ascending the stairs, the light tap of his cane echoing around the foyer.
Husk sighed wearily and pulled another shotglass from under the bar. “Fine. One finger or two?”
Angel suppressed a snort.
“Give me ten minutes, then bring the bottle.” He called back down.
Husk’s paws slipped on the glass. “The- the whole bottle?”
“Ten minutes.” He repeated shortly. A few moments later, both Alastor’s footsteps and the click of his cane diminished into nothingness. Eventually, they heard the slam of a door from far in the distance.
Angel and Husk waited until silence had settled on the hotel once more, then looked at each other, wide eyed.
“...the fuck was that about?” blurted Angel Dust. Husker simply sighed, frowned, and dove beneath the bar to find one of the Radio Demon’s private bottles of rye.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Contract