Necessary Evils

A/N This story had been very long in coming. It owes its existence to my brain taking a left turn at the end of Clearly Harassment and the input of several talented artists: Deserthaze, SpeakerSpeedy, and HollowHikari, all of whom can be found on deviantArt and all of whom influenced the overall storyline. This picks up where Clearly Harassment lets off, and it follows Him's month-long attempt to woo Mr. Green. This story contains slash and while it's nothing graphic, I know it's not everyone's cup of coffee. Consider yourselves warned if that sort of thing makes you break out in a rash. Also, while much of the story is already written, much is not, so I'll be taking my time posting. I hope y'all enjoy.

The characters belong to their respective creators. I promise to put them back when I'm done.

Prologue: Shot in the Dark

"Another shot, Roy?"

Kilroy Green hesitated for all of a moment before he set his glass down within easy reach of his companion. At the moment it wasn't a question of want, but need. That it was mid-afternoon and he was technically still on the clock made little difference, given the events of this whole, stupid, annoying, blasted day. "Why not?"

Professor Utonium obligingly poured him a measure of scotch, and then matched it in his own waiting tumbler. Dropping back into his seat on the overstuffed leather couch in his office, Patrick Utonium looked at the green-skinned demon on the loveseat opposite him. Mr. Green was still reeling from shock to learn that the annoying, androgynous, cross-dressing demon that had been harassing him the livelong day was not only the ultimate in evil, but also one of the archenemies of his boss' superhero daughters.

"I've been out of circulation too long. I just thought he was a freak," admitted Kilroy, cradling the cup in his hands.

The Professor saluted with his drink. "He is."

"What kind of a name is Him?"

Over the brim of his glass, the other man smiled. "A pronoun."

Green drank a mouthful of the aged liquor before letting the weight of his curved horns pull his head back into the soft cushion behind him. He could feel the burn of alcohol as it his his system. It was strangely comforting, but perhaps it was the company of a good and understanding friend. "I can't believe he kissed me. In front of your kids, no less!" He groaned in shame and pain, slapping a gloved hand to his head.

"Believe it." The Professor sighed, shaking his head, but he was more bemused than anything else. "I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do tonight."

"I'm so sorry, Pat."

Utonium dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. "Don't sweat it, Roy. There wasn't a lot you could have done to avoid it even if you wanted to."

It took the fire demon's alcohol-addled brain a moment to realize what his employer had just said.

"WHAT?" he exclaimed, flabbergasted that the clean-cut and completely square Professor Utonium would even imply that Green might actually welcome swapping spit with anything that wore tulle and patent leather and displayed a bathroom fetish. Scandalized, he sat bolt upright and gaped at Utonium, who grinned back. It was a moment before he realized he was being teased on a grand scale.

Neither of them had eaten since this morning. The alcohol was hitting them both, and while he couldn't speak for the Professor, Kilroy Van Green knew he was happy, polite, and embarrassingly slow on the uptake when he was drunk. It was the Professor who started laughing first, trying and failing to hide his amusement. The sheer ridiculousness of the whole day suddenly struck Kilroy: Him's outrageous flirtations, a caffeinated Dexter, his own uptight reaction to his lack of underwear, flashing Morton – and he began to laugh as well. They carried on until they were both breathless and drained.

"You should have seen your face," grinned Utonium, red in the face himself as he finished his scotch. He set the tumbler down, holding it in place a few seconds to steady himself. "Come on. Let's get the kids and get something to eat. I'm starved and . . . I need some coffee." He blinked and tried to focus. "Badly."

Green chuckled. "Do you think Dexter's decontaminated by now?"

He checked his watch. "At least three times. He should be pretty squeaky clean."

Green laughed again as he remembered the noise his student had made when he'd been smushed between the demons. Poor Dexter. As he rose to feet to test their steadiness, Kilroy couldn't help but wonder, very quietly even in his own thoughts, if he really would have avoided being kissed by Him if he could.

Probably, his mind answered. Then a tiny, lingering echo added . . . not.