Ben smiled, giving a slight chuckle as the other teased at him lightly. “Hm, I knew you were comin’ in kid, wasn’t expectin’ to get attacked.” He countered, his tail relaxing and flicking downward to tuck the tip of his spade under the clipboard and lightly flip it upward into his hand. As Leliel went on and on about what he leaned that day he plucked up the pen attached to the clipboard, continuing to let his eyes slip over the shelves, marking down bottles. “Oh? Hugs huh?” The demon gave a small snort and a mutter. “I’m surprised he knows how to spell hug let alone what one is..” Ben’s tail flicked and swished behind him as he worked, the pen giving a soft scratching noise over the paper.
At the mention of hugging a bunny, the demon laughed softly. “Well if you ever find one willin’ to let an old demon like me hug ‘em I’ll do it just fer you kid.” He replied, looking down at the young angel fondly. He knew the boy was young, achingly so, just barely considered past the age of adulthood in angels..and yet here he was, helping keep an eye on HIM of all creatures. It honestly had him wondering what in the world the higher ups were thinking. They knew he was a dangerous creature, hell that was why there was a Seraphim of all things lurking within the same territory as he, so why would they send a lamb to the lion? He’d never understand Heaven and its motives...
@the-night-is-ours-forever
He hasn't seen Danny since the barely-a-divorce, when they’d found out that they had never actually been married in the first place, and had come to the conclusion that maybe they did need some time apart. After all, who gets married after only three months of knowing each other? Thomas had since barely left his room - always sure to carry around that happy, positive exterior when he has to for classes or to grab the GrubHub he’d ordered - both wanting to avoid the judging/knowing/pitying gazes of others, and also simply too heartsick to do much of anything.
He’d only received one text from Danny during this time, and just seeing his name pop up on his screen had made his heart ache. He’d been asking if Thomas had seen one of his sweaters, and he’d given a non-committal “I'm sure it'll turn up somewhere” - very tactfully leaving out that Thomas was currently wearing it. It was the only thing that Danny had left behind, besides the rings - all those things they used to share now gone, leaving his room so oddly empty, even though it had felt so full before the lockdown, and even fuller during - and he probably wore it too much, but… it was all he had.
Now, he has to go to the first party since the lockdown ended, and Danny's going to be there, and Thomas is going to have to find some way to not fall apart - even though he was so terrified of so much as passing by Danny on campus, sure he’d instantly burst into tears or possibly faint, or something equally as embarrassing.
Upon walking in, he went straight to the bar, fighting the horribly strong urge to search the small crowd for those familiar curls. He orders two shots, tossing back the first the moment it's passed to him. Someone slides in next to him, and he doesn't look at them, hand already reaching for the next shot - but stops when the mysterious someone places their hand on his. He looks over, trying not to be annoyed, and sees Pj, one eyebrow quirked at him.
“Party's not even started yet, Tommy,” his president notes, tone gentle, and Thomas bites the inside of his cheek.
“Yeah? And?” he asks, managing to not sound as frustrated or pained as he feels.
“Are you okay?”
Thomas huffs a little. Pj had nothing but concern in his voice, and he just feels annoyed, bitter, upset. He grabs his shot, slipping his hand from Pj's gentle touch, and tosses it back. As he sets it back on the counter, face twisting up slightly at the taste, he glances back to Pj. Smiles. “Perfectly fine, Peej, why?”
His president studies him for a moment, giving a small sigh eventually. “If you need to talk…” He lets the words trail off, laying the offer on the table.
“Thanks, but I'm good. Have a nice party!” he replies in that pseudo cheery voice, giving him a small wave. Pj sighs again, nodding and heading off to mingle with others, and Thomas closes his eyes in relief, smile dropping as he turns back to face the bar. “Do you make those fruity, sugary, high alcohol content cocktails? Kinda wanna get drunk in a fun way.”
The bartender smiles and nods. “Yessir. Guessing you're gonna want one of those?”
Thomas nods a little. “Make me your favorite?”
“Gotcha.”
Thomas considers introducing himself, but he's not feeling talkative in any way - these two short interactions alone have taken up a lot of his energy. When the drink gets passed to him, he gives him a brief smile in thanks, then takes a long sip. It's gonna be a long night, but at least the drink is good.
About a quarter of the way into the party, Mark and Ethan have found him - not that he was well-hidden to begin with. They're the ones who can't drink at all, so he’d kinda hoped he could avoid them.
Especially Mark.
The idea of facing Mark, or Rosanna for that matter, causes a sense of panic within him these days. They were the only people beside Danny who knew what he’d said on that boat, the vows and love that he’d everlastingly professed, and he doesn't want the pity that they must feel. He doesn't want pity, or comfort; he just wants…
Well, it's probably very obvious what he wants.
“Heyyyy Tommy,” Mark says, and Thomas feels a little queasy at the overcompensating friendliness. He must look like a wreck.
“Hey,” he replies a bit lamely, smiling. He's always been good at smiling, even if he didn't completely mean it.
“Wanna come dance with us?” Ethan offers, smiling that sweet smile at Thomas, and he hates the bitterness that bites at him when he sees it.
“Ah, nah, I'm good here. Been getting to know Ben!” he replies as softly as he can, not wanting to worry them. He nods to the bartender, who grins and gives a small wave.
“Well hello again, Mr. Universe. How's our boy doing?” This question is lost on Thomas, but Mark instantly pinkens, glancing out into the room where Jack is sat, alone.
“He's…”
“Being taken care of, I hope?” the bartender presses, and his tone implies a vague threat, which catches Thomas off-guard. Ethan looks between Ben and Mark, looking lost himself.
“Y… yeah,” Mark replies.
“Then why is he alone and sad?”
“I… wanted to check in on Thomas.”
“I’ve got him covered, Pretty Boy.” Mark’s cheeks remarkably darken as he glances at Thomas, trying to gauge his emotions.
“I’m fine, kiddo. Ethan can stay behind, if you’re worried.” He has absolutely no clue how Ben knows Mark, or why his words have such an effect on him, but he’s a little thankful for it. He can handle just Ethan. Ethan hasn’t heard what Mark has, hasn’t seen him talk about Danny, has no clue just how deep it all ran.
Mark shares a long look with the once blue boy, and nods. “I’ll… talk to you both later.”
“Toodle-oo!” Ben calls as he walks away, waving his hand, and Thomas almost laughs. Almost. Not because of the treatment of Mark - honestly, it kinda makes him uncomfortable to see the discomfort in his close friend - but at the general attitude of the guy.
“You didn’t have to do that, Ben,” Thomas says, giving him a small look. Ben looks from him to Ethan, gesturing for the small boy to take a seat.
“Yeah, well. You’re not in a talking mood.”
Very true - in his intermittent conversations with the bartender, he’d mostly just asked him questions, wanting the distraction of someone else’s life. Ben had easily complied, rambling on when he wasn’t making drinks for others. It’s kind of strange, that he’d so quickly picked up on his mood - then again, it’s in the subtextual job description of being a bartender to understand social cues, isn’t it?
Ethan sits next to him, glancing almost nervously between the bartender and Thomas. Thomas just offers him a small smile, half-wondering why Ben even really cared. “Hey, Eth. How’re you?”
“I should be asking you that question,” Ethan retorts, but Ben must give him some sort of look because he just sighs. “I’m good, actually. Dating Pj now.” Thomas cracks a small smile - possibly his first genuine one in a long while.
“How’s that goin’?”
And Ethan regards him for a moment, quiet, processing - then he smiles big, launches into a detailed (but PG) description of every interaction with the curly haired boy he’s had since coming here, so Thomas can “get a good picture of how it came to be,” and the older boy is so very grateful. He just gets to sit, nodding along as he listens, not having to respond or think about anything but Ethan and Pj. Some parts of the story make him ache, missing his man who had given him similar butterflies and sweet words, but for the most part he’s good. At some point, without Thomas noticing, his drink is replaced with a new one.
When Ethan starts to near the end of this great fairytale, Pj strolls over, wrapping an arm around the younger boy’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Thomas isn’t exactly sure what Pj whispers in Ethan’s ear, but it draws a bright blush from him, and suddenly they’re both starting to walk away, wishing him a good night.
Before Ethan is too far, though, he turns to look back at Thomas. “You gonna be okay?”
Thomas nods, even though he doesn’t really believe it. “I’ve got Ben.”
Ethan considers this for a short moment, eyes drifting to the bartender who’s cleaning a glass and smiling to himself, soft eyes fixed on Mark and Sean joking on the other side of the room. The former blue boy nods a little to himself, finding this acceptable. “Stay safe, Tom.”
“You too, man.”
And then he’s alone again, slumping a bit now that he doesn’t have to put more energy into his outward appearance for the time being. Ben looks from the couple now walking away to him, and Thomas shakes his head a little, not needing him to fill the silence.
Thomas’ gaze drifts out over the room, not really looking for anything or anyone, just watching the laughter and joy and kissing and celebrations. He feels a little sick, actually, a dull ache where his own matching optimism and excitement should be. Everyone is so happy for the lockdown to be over, and Thomas… Thomas just wishes it had lasted longer, that he’d had more time. His gaze flickers from face to face, until suddenly… there he is. His breath catches in his throat, unprepared to see the fluffy haired man, his glow visible even from here. He gives a small, half-sob, ripping his eyes away from him even though he aches at the loss. He downs his drink, and he's probably drunk enough now, but that doesn't stop him from ordering another one - less sugary this time, just going straight for the whiskey now. Ben also passes him a water and a small snack (it doesn't matter to Thomas what it is) and he could cry, he truly could.
Thomas does, indeed, end up crying, though surprisingly not over the kindness of his new friend.
His mind just drifts as he sits there, fidgeting, and all he can even begin to think about is Danny, Danny, Danny. A few tears leak out, and suddenly he's sobbing, burying his face in his arms to try and muffle it. He’s too drunk and he has too many emotions, and why is he here? He just wants to be in bed, curled up under too many blankets, watching his playlist of videos that usually make him happy, until he falls asleep feeling empty and after only barely cracking a few smiles.
Someone leaves a half-finished drink on the bar, and without hesitation he picks it up, downs it. Ben cut him off a little bit ago, and Thomas knew that logically, it was smart for him to, but without anything to drink he has no distraction. Maybe if he’s drunker, he’ll feel better.
At some point, Thomas seems to forget everything. He's still sad, unbearably sad, but he can't exactly recall just why. Lost something, lost someone? Something's missing. He doesn't really mind not knowing, though.
The party is winding to a close, and everyone can tell, and Thomas feels a vague wash of panic, the tears slipping down his cheeks escaping his notice.
“Woah, Thomas? Are you okay?” someone asks, leaning over him a little, and Thomas gazes up at them, vision blurry and heart aching. He nods, but that makes him oddly feel dizzy, and kinda queasy.
“H-home,” he manages to get out, though his throat feels too small and his tongue too big.
“Yeah… yeah, let's get you home then, alright?”
He doesn't trust himself to nod again, just reaches out a little to be helped up. The kind, somehow familiar man gets an arm around his shoulders, and carefully leads him to the door, practically supporting most of him. When they get there, though, Thomas squirms out of his grasp, panicking.
“No! N-not…” The room is kind of spinning as he searches it, noticing more than a few eyes turned in their direction now, but he doesn't care--
“Buddy… c'mon, we gotta get you to Theta.” He shakes his head, hard, and it makes it feel like everything's swimming and he's about to fall and sink and drown, but he manages to keep upright. Still searching, searching, but he has no clue what for, and--
There.
His heart races, panic in him subsiding, and he takes a few steps forward, as caught if in a spell.
“Tom, that's a bad idea, don't…”
If he says anything else, Thomas doesn't hear him, because suddenly those familiar, soft eyes are on him, and the glow is stronger than ever, and after a few more steps he's right there, right in front of him.
Home.
He crawls straight into his lap, curling up against his chest, and the party's a little too quiet now but he doesn't notice.
So much tension is released from him in that moment, so much heartache and pain. After a few beats, Danny wraps his arms around him, and Thomas almost weeps, that terrifying emptiness inside of him finally full - or, at least, manageable.
He can hear people talking, and there's some quiet arguing, but it doesn't matter, doesn't even really make sense, though he does hear his own name an awful lot. All that matters to him right now is that Danny is so warm, and maybe a little angled, but much more comfortable than anyone else, anything else. Thomas just sits there, curled up against him, face pressed to his chest as he breathes him in.
Why has it been so long since he's touched him, talked to him, even seen him? He's missed him so much, his Danny, his moon, his…
He doesn't let himself think about it. It's actually pretty easy, considering Danny is shifting him in his arms, standing slowly as he holds him. Thomas almost panics, the world swimming around him - but he looks up, and there's Danny's sweet, beautiful face smiling softly (almost sadly?) down at him.
“Hey, Sunshine,” Danny says in that soft, intimate tone that Thomas remembers from half a million mornings and nights and small, beautiful moments, that tone that is reserved just for him.
Thomas smiles dazedly back up at him, and he's not scared of falling suddenly. He feels safe. “Hey, Moonlight,” he replies in kind, voice a little slurred, but all warmth. He doesn't notice that they've started to move, doesn't care really; he just nuzzles his face into his shoulder, eyes closing. “M-missed you.” If Danny replies, Thomas doesn't hear it, already half-drifting off.
Thomas comes back around when Danny is laying him down in his bed. His eyes flutter open and there's Danny, in all his glory, his fluffy hair so soft and inviting, and those kind eyes tracing over his features like a sweet caress. Or something like that. He's very drunk.
“Get some rest, Sleeping Beauty,” Danny whispers, a hand running through his hair for a second, and in the next instant, it's gone.
“W-wait,” he mumbles, panic rising. Danny pauses in his pulling away, and there's something sad in his eyes, but Thomas just pushes on. “S… stay.”
“Tommy…”
“Please?” He can feel his eyes growing watery, and he's suddenly so scared he'll say no, that Thomas will be left alone again, just like before, just like always--
Suddenly Danny is climbing into bed with him, and he makes a soft, broken sound as he curls into him immediately. Danny wraps around him like he was meant to, holding him tightly, as if he never wants to let go. Lord knows that Thomas doesn't want him to. He doesn't want to think about how his moon will inevitably leave him again though, an absence that would feel more like a new moon than a new dawn, left in darkness instead of light. It doesn't matter right now.
What matters is this: Danny’s here, he's staying, and it doesn't matter if he still loves Thomas or not, because at least he can keep him tonight.
Sometime, in the middle of the night - or maybe early morning, he can't really tell - Thomas stumbles into his bathroom, barely managing to make it to the toilet as he throws up. He only really has vague feelings from the party, and he kinda hates himself for getting so drunk, for even going in the first place. The less time he spends around others, the better. Then there's less of a chance of them seeing his heartbreak, all that pain he so carefully keeps tucked away.
When he finally feels like he's gotten everything out of his system for the time being, he flushes, laying on the bathroom floor. He feels gross, and sad, and achy both physically and emotionally. So dumb, Thomas. Always so dumb.
He really wishes he had water, or maybe 7up, or heavy duty painkillers, but alas. He's alone, and definitely doesn't wanna bother anyone just because he can't hold his liquor.
He drapes his arms over his eyes, head throbbing from the light, and it's when he’s trying to will himself to get up and take care of himself that someone clears their throat softly.
Thomas moves his arm cautiously, a bit worried he's about to be murdered, but standing in the doorway, like an angel sent from above, is Danny.
What is he doing here??
He panics a little, suddenly acutely aware of how gross he looks right now - pale and sweaty and exhausted - and he sits up a little, fight or flight kicking in, body preparing for the latter.
“Did you hear me throwing up?” he asks, after a moment of silence, trying to will the panic down.
“Well… yes,” Danny replies, looking a little confused by the question. Thomas groans a little, leaning back against the bathtub, eyes closing. Just his luck.
“Why?”
“...Why? I’m not sure what you're asking, Sunshine.”
“Please, I've gotta be the least sunshine-y thing ever right now,” he replies weakly. “Why are you here?” He's definitely not upset about this, but it's a lot to take in right now.
“You… Um, didn't wanna leave the party without me, so I took you home. And you asked me to stay.” Thomas darkens in embarrassment - he's never, ever going to drink again, he swears, because he is not allowed to pull crap like this.
“You didn't have to stay.”
“I wanted to.” Thomas feels his heart ache hollowly as he says the words, but something in him grows warmer. He gazes up at him a little helplessly, not sure how to respond, but thankfully, Danny doesn't wait for him, just kneels down in front of him, offering him up a small glass of water and some ibuprofen.
Thomas could weep, he truly could.
“Oh, gosh, you are an angel, aren't you??” he asks, taking them graciously. He doesn't care if he'll just end up throwing it all up again, just wants to get rid of this pain already.
“No, you're just sick, and this is good for sick people.”
“Correction, I'm hungover and gross, but thank you so much anyway,” he replies, taking the pills before he can say something embarrassing. He downs half the glass, trying not to cry at the small gesture.
“You're never gross, Tommy.”
“Gross, sweaty, and so pale that I look like a carton of milk.”
“Barely sweaty, and not even a little bit gross. I'd even say you look kind of…” Thomas feels his breath catch, watching Danny as he waits for the end of that sentence - but the other man just coughs slightly, blushing as he looks to the side. “Finish your water, brush your teeth, and get to bed, okay? You need rest.” Before Thomas can say anything else, Danny is up and gone, and he's left alone on the bathroom floor.
Admittedly, he feels a little better once his mouth is scrubbed clean and he's splashed some water on his face. Turning off the lights, he slips back into his room, ready to pass out, but as he climbs back in…
“You're still here?” he asks, voice quiet and colored with pleasant surprise.
Danny shifts a little in the bed, and Thomas can just barely see the outline of his body. “You need someone to take care of you. And I told you, I… I want to stay.”
Thomas tears up a little at that. He wants to argue, but he's so tired, and he's been craving this closeness for so, so long… He crawls a little closer to him, head leaning almost hesitantly into his chest. He can feel Danny's heartbeat as it quickens in time with his own, and he relaxes as Danny wraps his arm around him, pulls him closer.
“I missed you,” Thomas says softly, because apparently tonight is not the night for self control, and if he's going to mess up everything, he might as well do it the right way.
Almost like a prayer, like a miracle that Thomas is absolutely certain he has no rights to, Danny whispers back, “I missed you too.”
“Wait! NO!” He was forced onto his knees, his wings wrenched from their tight protective hold against his side as far as they would go. “NO!” He froze in his struggles as Kupriel walked forward, staring down at him coldly, summoning the two halves of his bow to his hands. “It’s my responsibility...so I’ll do it.” He said lowly, Ben’s eyes widening. “Kupriel! No! Wait! Why are you-”
He had been unaware as his words bled out into the waking world for the concerned angel to hear, the tears dripping down his cheek unhindered as he squirmed and kicked along the satin sheets of his bed, his tail lashing around as well.
The Angel of Love drew near, his eyes steely and Benriel saw that in them...the love they had once shared was gone. He had tried to do the right thing, but he had pushed too far, tried too much to be helpful..and Kupriel had won...he had played the victim..and won and now, as punishment for ruining his plans...Ben knew that he was going to pay the price while everyone sat back and watched in agreement with the punishment. No one looked at him in the face, but they watched as Kupriel raised his weapons and swung downward with a decisive blow.
“AAAUGH!”
Ben startled awake with a pained roar as it rushed over him, the sensation of those blades slicing his wings off mercilessly, his mind was in a panic, sure that he was bleeding. His scars ached and throbbed as he shot up, his mind still momentarily stuck in his nightmare, unaware that Leliel was never near his bed.
You had no idea where the strange bright red door had come from when you passed by the alley, it brought a pause to your step as you stared at the smiling face looking back at you from it. It felt...welcoming in a way, your eyes trailing up to the bright golden numbers above it, 999, standing out against it’s dark paint job up above. Hesitating for a moment, you reach out to the bright gold knob and turn it, the door giving a soft creak as it pushed inward easily.
The sound of smooth jazz filled your ears as you stepped over the threshold, the whole bar done in a beautiful 1920’s aesthetic, art deco with sharp lines, contrasting of black and gold that was startling but not off putting. It was...oddly antiquated in this year of 1950...but none the less it seemed welcoming. The whole place felt warm, comforting, the sound of ice in a shaker alerted you to the presence of the bartender.
Behind the dark bar stood a tall demon toon, his long tail swaying behind him as he continued to shake the drink, glancing over at you with the most hypnotizing eyes you’d ever seen. They were bright gold with black pupils ringed multiple times with that same elegant gold. “Hm..been expectin’ ya kid...pull up a seat...yer drink’s almost ready~” His voice was suiting the environment; warm..coaxing..and after the week you’d had..you could really use that drink.
Your feet carried you over to the bar and you settled onto the stool with a heavy sigh, arms resting on the dark polished wood, your head dropping forward. It felt like the weight of the world was slowly being lifted off your shoulders as an empty glass was slid into your view, resting on a black napkin with a gold border and a small demon face emblazoned on it in the corner. “There ya go kid….” The demon said as he shifted the shaker and poured the drink out. “Sit back...relax...why don’tcha tell me yer woes huh? Might help t’get it out~”
With a tired smile, you plucked the drink up and sipped it, pausing to pull back and stare at it. That was honestly, the best drink you’d ever had. Another sip as you glanced back to the tender who was now busily cleaning the tumbler but still watching you with those bright gold and black eyes, patient and expecting your sorrows. With a tiny smile, you took a breath and sighed it out. “Well...you see….”
As you spilled your woes to the man’s sympathetic ear, you had no idea that you’d walked into a literal devil’s den...and who knew if you were going to get out alive?
(Welcome to the first proper post of the Devil’s Grin! Home to “The Golden Age” AU! Ben’s art is by @misslockeart, his design is by myself and @nolalistra and the Devil’s Grin door is by me @teacuptoons! The blog theme and such are still under construction because sadly I art rather slow! But it will be updated as time and art permits. The askbox is open! Feel free to come ask Ben anything you like about himself, about the AU, we are more than happy to answer anything! Because of slow arts, heh, this blog will be mostly written replies, and maybe the occasional art reply...maybe...We’ll have to see. But I hope you enjoy! And Welcome...To the Devil’s Grin..)
