Chapter 7: Adjusting Your Pattern

Once they actually started working on sewing, things almost seemed to go back to normal. Almost. Nuggets eased some of the tension just by being their adorable little self, but there was an underlying coldness that even a cute pig couldn't fully alleviate. Radio feedback-filled silence hung heavily between tiny snippets of instruction, and though Angel had never been one to hold his tongue, even he struggled to break through the drone of white noise.

"Hey," he managed to say, two booties finished at his side. Alastor faced him with a sudden crackle of static that left Angel's throat tight, forcing him back to square one in his ongoing negotiation with his vocal cords. "Hey," he repeated, "it's, uh, gettin' kinda late."

He glanced at the clock. "Is it? I thought that you were more a nocturnal creature. You were difficult enough to rouse for our shopping excursion. Have plans tonight, do you?"

"Eh, you caught me," he said without hesitation. "Headin' out, hookin' up. The usual."

"I see." He turned back to his sewing. "Don't let me keep you."

Angel half expected to be escorted to the door like usual, but Alastor kept his eyes trained on the pants he was hemming. "Right," he said. Still, he hovered by the door.

"Is there something you wanted, Angel?" Alastor asked after a long moment.

"Uh, yeah." God, why couldn't he just talk? It had to be the static messing with his head. Or maybe the two hours of sleep he got. "What time you want me back tomorrow? The usual, or later again?"

The static changed frequency and became a crackling hum. "I believe after dinner is a better time for both of us. My duties will be finished and your…excursions," he settled on, "can keep you out as late as you like without a morning engagement."

And Angel kept his handy "it's getting late" excuse. Convenient. "Works for me," he said, popping the door open. "See you, Smiles."

He waited a moment in the empty hallway, but Alastor didn't say goodbye.

Angel headed for the lobby.

"Takin' Nuggets for a walk," he called to Husk, pointing to them and holding out their leash for proof.

"You're still on probation."

"I'm goin' in the garden, that's still part of the hotel. Not like I can escape that way."

Husk made a noise somewhere between a hum and a growl. "Better not come cryin' to me if you try shit and get it extended. You only got like three days left, you know."

"Aw, you're keeping track? How sweet. I'll wait for you if you wait for me, babe!" He blew a kiss and strutted outside before Husk found an empty bottle to throw.

Nuggets, eager to rediscover the brand-new location they'd been to a million times already, pulled at the leash. Closed-in as the area was, Angel unhooked it and let them run freely. They rooted around half-dead trees and completely dead foliage. The courtyard was full of it, all overgrown and dried out from neglect. Charlie had plans on clearing it out and replanting, but between the interview and renovating the most-used rooms, she hadn't had time. Angel and Nuggets were the only ones who used it, anyway. Whoever else felt like getting fresh air could actually step out front without supervision.

Despite the decay, it was peaceful, especially at night. A breeze rustled his fur and some barely-there leaves, and little specks glowed in between lifeless branches. Looking at the red sky, he could almost convince himself they were stars. Almost. Then his eyes landed on that glowing, cloud-wrapped orb in the distance and the spell was broken. Damn Heaven, always ruining shit. That particular depressing thought had no place in his garden mope, though. He needed a distraction.

"C'mere, Nugs," he called. His beloved pet came running, crunching through leaves as they went, and barreled into his legs with a satisfied oink. "Good piggy."

"Change of plans?"

Angel snatched Nuggets off the ground and held them close. His head whipped around, coming face to face with glowing red eyes and a wide smile. "Al! What the hell, man?"

"You ended our sewing lessons early in anticipation of another engagement, 'heading out and hooking up,' wasn't it? Whatever happened to that?"

"It was, uh, cancelled," he lied. "Decided I might as well get out of the hotel somehow anyway."

Alastor's eyes narrowed. "I see."

"Shit, how'd you even know I was here? You lookin' for me or somethin'?"

"Husker told me."

"Goddamn it Husk," he muttered under his breath. "Now you decide to actually do your job, huh?"

"Well," Alastor said, brushing nonexistent dirt from his coat, "I suppose I'll leave you to it."

As he spun on his heel and started back towards the hotel, Angel had an idea. Despite how badly his most recent ideas had gone, he decided to go with it. He could just blame sleep deprivation if things went south. He set Nuggets back down. "I mean," Angel began, stopping Alastor mid-step, "I never asked Husk to keep quiet. Not exactly a secret I'm hangin' out in the garden, you know? But he didn't have to go snitchin' to the first person who came along."

"That is true," Alastor admitted. His back was still to Angel.

"And if somebody asked, that'd be different," he continued. "Like, I'm on probation, Charlie's gotta know where I am, I get it. But maybe I wanted some alone time out here, you know? I'm usually the only one who comes out here and he knows that. You can kinda assume that maybe I'm tryin' to keep to myself."

His tone remained light. "That was quite rude of Husk, if he knew all that. Some things are private."

"Exactly," he said. "Plus, Husk likes bein' alone, too. Acts like you're tryin' to give him a bath if you talk to him. If he doesn't want people buggin' him, he should know better than to invite somebody to bug somebody else, right?"

"That does make him quite the hypocrite, doesn't it?"

"Sure does."

That constant radio drone picked up for a moment, then seemed to switch channels into a different buzz. When he spoke again, his tone was more somber. "I can see how that could be construed as a betrayal of trust. If, of course," he said quickly, "you had trust in him. Though the way he tolerates your eccentricities with only minor protests implies some sort of trust between you."

Oh. Angel hadn't considered that. "Yeah," he said. "When you get along like that, a guy really should know to keep his mouth shut about certain things. Especially about stuff you talk about privately."

"I'd imagine you're rather annoyed, then." His shoulders were tense. "Angry, even. But you have a reputation, you know, Angel. You're not affected by those things. To react harshly about something as simple as revealing your location when nothing unfortunate came from it may make you appear…" He paused a moment, as if he changed his mind about something, then settled on a word. "…unbalanced."

His breath hitched. "…yeah," he agreed. "I'm not gonna make a big deal out of it, not in front of anybody. Don't want nobody knowin' it bothered me. But like you said, me and him got this kinda trust thing goin' on. I think I'll talk to him about it a little later, have a drink and let him know that wasn't cool." He swallowed. "Who knows, maybe we'll end up trustin' each other even more than we did before this whole thing."

"Eventually, perhaps. That trust may be somewhat fragile in the near future, however. I wouldn't expect you to share many secrets with our dear bartender anytime soon."

"Course not," he said, "yeah, no. Wouldn't expect that at all. But I figure if I talk to him, he'll know better next time. I don't think he'd be enough of an asshole to do it again."

"No, you wouldn't think so. However, it isn't a matter of logic, is it? For now, I'd imagine you'll be a bit more guarded nonetheless." Alastor's staff twitched in his grip. "Though I think you're right about your planned conversation. Being open with a person does invite more trust, despite whatever way the openness may begin."

"Right." Angel waited a moment in case he had anything else to say. When he stayed quiet, he continued. "Well, thanks talkin' with me, Smiles. Nice to rant about Husk to somebody."

"Of course!" he said as he spun around to face Angel with a flourish, chipper tone returning. "What else are sewing partners for? Many such clubs are known as a 'stitch and bitch' for good reason, you know."

"I'll stick with the drinking version, thanks."

A laugh track played. "I wouldn't expect anything less, my alcoholic arachnid! But don't expect this to become a common thing. Husk is a dear friend of mine, it's quite disrespectful to speak ill of him behind his back. That's what his face is for."

"Right, right."

He turned to leave again. "Well I'll see you tomorrow, Ang—"

"Hey, wait," Angel stopped him once more.

"Yes?"

"About sewing club or whatever," he said. "I'm gonna try to finish the mock-up for your gift tomorrow night but I still wanna finish those booties. Mind if we keep the usual time?"

"Just after breakfast?"

"Yeah, we can do after dinner the next day though."

"But of course." He spun his microphone. "I'll be heading back in now, unless you'd like to stop me again."

"Think I'm good this time, Smiles. See you." Just as he started off again, Angel held up his hand. "Wait!"

He stopped, one ear twitching.

"Just messin' with you."

With a chuckle and shake of his head, Alastor finally stepped back inside.

"Hey babe," Angel said, sliding onto a barstool. The lobby was quiet, empty except for him and his favorite bartender.

"Why couldn't you have climbed the fence and fucked off?"

"Thought about it, but you'd miss me too much." He tapped the counter. "Plus, I still got a drink tonight."

Husk rolled his eyes. "Surprising as all hell, considering you're down to one. Now pick your poison and get out."

"Hey, I gotta pick carefully. Like you said, one's all I got." He hummed, considering his choice just long enough to make Husk's eye twitch. "Let's see, somethin' relaxing, a nice nightcap. Somethin' hot. Oh, with coffee!"

"Relaxing? With coffee?" He scoffed. "Tch. Guess it ain't like you're sleeping, anyway. Probably gonna sneak out and run back to the studio the second you're done here."

He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I would never!"

"Sure you wouldn't."

"Besides," Angel said, "coffee is totally relaxing. It's my third favorite thing to help me wind down after a long day." He smirked. "Ask me about the first two."

"Yeah, no thanks." Husk drug a paw down his face. "Tell you what. You go brew some coffee and I'll pour all the alcohol you want in it, deal? Then you can jump out a window and go fuck a cactus for cash or whatever the fuck."

"Deal," he said, "but I've never fucked a cactus yet. Course I've had some spiky clients, those were fun. Say, you're a cat, do you have barbs on your—"

"Finish that sentence and you lose your booze."

He closed his mouth, then hopped off the barstool and went to make the coffee. Even though he'd like to spend a little longer making old Husky snap his cap, he wasn't about to risk his booze. He liked making coffee, anyway; no one else got it right. Call him a snob, but that drip shit wasn't good for anything but emergency caffeine delivery in the morning, and even then it was only barely drinkable with heaps of milk and sugar. What they called espresso was the only acceptable coffee on any other occasion.

The espresso machine was always a pain to set up. Hardly anyone but him used it, so it stayed packed away in a cabinet rather than take up counter space, but it was nearly a two-demon job to get the huge-ass thing out. It worked out fine for him, though. He had three sets of hands all to himself. He stuck a mug in place and leaned against the counter, waiting for it to heat up.

"So." Angel returned to his stool after a few minutes and slid the mug across the bar. "Why'd you feel like snitchin'?"

Husk's wings bristled. "Fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Al found me in the courtyard. Said you told him I was out there."

"Pardon me for not realizin' it was some big fuckin' secret."

"It wasn't, not really." He chuckled. "Guess I should be thankin' you, anyway, I wanted to talk to him about somethin' and I finally got to."

"He asked, I told him. The hell was I supposed to do, anyway? He's my boss, chrissakes."

"He asked," Angel repeated.

"That's what I fuckin' said. Now what booze do you want in this shit before I change my mind?"

He chose rum, amaretto, and some kind of chocolate liqueur and fucked off to his room as requested. He skipped the window jumping and cactus fucking for the moment, though. There were new developments to over-analyze. Alastor actually talked to him, in a roundabout way, but Angel could deal with emotionally constipated. Maybe. In some ways, the trust thing was more intimidating than the waiting-for-an-excuse-to-kill-him thing.

But under his blankets with a hot boozy drink and Fat Nuggets curling up at his side, despite the chilling prospect of getting friendly with the Radio Demon, despite that terrifying trust, despite whatever Alastor asking about him could mean, Angel found he didn't care. His "fuck it" attitude had worked so far. What use was overthinking things?

With a final sip of his coffee, he turned off his lamp and turned in for the night.

He dreamt of a hazy jazz club and a flapper's red dress.

And they speak! (Kind of)

I hope you enjoyed! This fic is going to be 10-11 chapters total, just so y'all know.

Thanks so much for reading! And as always, all comments, critiques, and predictions appreciated.