Lovers Once More - Radiostatic

Mon Cher

The Hazbin Hotel's halls were dim and quiet as Alastor carried Vox through the door. His sharp steps echoed softly on the plush carpet, his gaze fixed ahead as he navigated the familiar maze. The last thing he wanted was to disturb the tenuous peace that Charlie had managed to cultivate within the hotel walls.

"Oh, Alastor!" Niffty's cheery voice chirped as she zipped around the corner, her wide eye quickly catching sight of Vox's slumped form in his arms. "Oh my gosh, what happened to him? He looks terrible!"

"Ah, just a rough night, my dear," Alastor replied smoothly, adjusting his grip on Vox as he nodded toward an empty guest room. "Think you could help me get a bed ready for our guest?"

Niffty's hands flew to work in an instant, pulling fresh sheets from the closet, smoothing the bed, and arranging the pillows with meticulous care. She paused for a moment, giving Alastor a curious look as he laid Vox carefully on the bed.

"There you go, mon cher," Alastor murmured, gently adjusting Vox's position and pulling the blanket up to his shoulders. "Sleep off whatever madness you got yourself into tonight."

The soft sound of footsteps outside caught his attention, and Alastor looked up to see Charlie standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern. She looked from Alastor to the sleeping Vox, her brow knitting slightly.

"Alastor, what happened? Is he... alright?" she asked, her voice gentle as she stepped into the room.

Alastor gave a nonchalant shrug, though his usual grin was noticeably softer. "Just a bit of, shall we say, overindulgence," he replied, patting the blanket to ensure Vox was comfortable. "He had a rough evening, one of his own making, no doubt. But he'll be fine by morning."

Charlie nodded, her gaze lingering on Vox for a moment. She seemed on the verge of saying something, but decided against it. Instead, she gave Alastor a small smile. "Thanks for looking out for him, Al. I know you two have a... complicated past."

Alastor let out a low chuckle, rising to his feet and brushing imaginary dust from his suit. "Complicated, indeed. But I'm sure he'll survive the night. Now, shall we let our guest rest?"

With a final glance at Vox, Charlie followed Alastor out, quietly closing the door behind them. They made their way downstairs, the hotel's warm lighting casting a faint glow over the lounge as they entered. Alastor made a beeline for the bar, collapsing onto a stool with a dramatic sigh.

"Oh, Husker," he called, casting a tired but amused glance at the scruffy, winged bartender. "Pour me something strong, if you'd be so kind. I think I've earned it."

Husk rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath as he grabbed a bottle of something dark and strong, sloshing it into a glass before sliding it over to Alastor. "Busy night, huh?" he muttered, his eyes darting over to Charlie, who had settled on a stool beside Alastor.

"You could say that," Alastor replied, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a long, savoring sip. He sighed, letting the warmth of the drink settle as he glanced over at Charlie, whose curious expression hadn't faded.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "So, Alastor... what really happened?" she asked softly. "With Vox, I mean. He seems... different tonight."

Alastor let out a low chuckle, swirling the drink in his glass. "Ah, well, what can I say? A bit of a lover's quarrel with that brute Valentino, followed by some heartfelt confessions. The usual chaos one might expect from our dear Vox." He raised a brow at her, his voice lowering slightly. "It seems he's still haunted by some... unresolved emotions."

Charlie's eyes widened slightly, and she tilted her head thoughtfully. "Really? I didn't know Vox could be so... sentimental."

"Nor did I," Alastor replied with a slight smirk, though his eyes held a glint of something deeper. "Seems our favorite walking television isn't quite as heartless as he pretends to be." He took another sip, then added, "And for reasons I can't quite understand, I seem to have gotten roped into the middle of it."

Charlie gave him a gentle smile, her eyes soft with understanding. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing, Al. Sometimes, a bit of old-fashioned care is all someone needs, even if they don't ask for it."

Alastor chuckled, setting his glass down and leaning back, his gaze distant for a moment. "Perhaps you're right," he murmured, more to himself than to her. The memories of Vox's drunken confession, the weight of his form in Alastor's arms, and the vulnerable look in his digital eyes replayed in his mind.

"Doesn't make it any less exhausting, though," he added with a wry smile, raising his glass to Charlie in a mock toast. "Here's to difficult companions and late nights."

Charlie laughed, clinking her glass against his with a warm smile. "To late nights, indeed."

As they drank in comfortable silence, Alastor found himself feeling strangely... content. It was a rarity for him, something he often dismissed as sentimental nonsense. But tonight, with the dim light, the quiet of the bar, and the memory of Vox's confession lingering in the back of his mind, he allowed himself a small moment of peace, an old flicker of warmth sparking quietly within him.