Malice (Demonstuck/Angelstuck)

i pack a little pistol on my pistol belt

Chapter titles will always be song lyrics. This is from Little Pistol by Mother Mother.

Your name is Dave Strider, and the buzz of the bar is music to the heightened senses of your demon ears.

Neon lights flash on the walls and glasses clink together; a melody lacking music that you can never get enough of. Even as you sit, you can't help but tap your fingers against the wood of the counter to the beat of some muffled, human pop song. The smell of alcohol and human food fills your nose and throat. It's a welcome feeling.

Though this is a demon-only place, people dance and drink wearing humans forms, with human voices. Not that you can complain too much. You kinda get it, even if it's fuckin' dumb. Gotta make sure humans don't know.

You hear the bartender's footsteps before you see him, and then you watch as he moves into your field of vision, striding (ha) with the smoothness of one of the few people in the bar left that were sober.

"Hey, dude," you call, leaning forward and resting your chin on your fist, "can you grab my a bit of beer?"

The bartender quirks a 'brow, pretty clearly amused. "How old are you? Thirteen? We don't serve minors."

You almost smile. Alright, this guy's got a sense of humour. You can dig that. "Sixteen, but it was worth a shot. I like you. You got a fuckin' sense of humor. The other guys get all fuckin' weird and bullshitty like I forced them to watch me eat a Kit-Kat the wrong way, y'know?"

The bartender nods, but doesn't humor you beyond that, and instead goes to tend to some drunk fuckers demanding the strongest shit they've got.

You let a small sigh escape through your nose, and rest both arms across the counter, then rest your chin on them. You can almost feel the vibrations of the music through the wood. Wicked.

You let the music and the talking turn into nothing but white noise in your head. You let yourself feel the vibrations and play a game with yourself to guess when the chorus is, the verse is, the end is.

Your game is (very fucking rudely) interrupted by a tap on your shoulder and a murmur in your ear.

"Come dance with me."

You swing around on your seat, and you're immediately greeted by the displeased face of your sister. She puts a hand to your shoulder, which trails down to your wrist, which she grabs with cold fuckin' fingers. Before you can even answer, she yanks you with surprising strength from your seat, even though the action is seemingly effortless.

She pulls you away from the counter and into the crowd, literally the last place you want to be. Neither of you know how to dance, but seeing as most of the crowd are drunk fuckers, you don't think it'll matter. You put your hands on your hips and she wraps her arms around your shoulders, her chin pressed against your shoulder so she can talk into your ear. It's something you've done many times before, in many situations similar.

"So, what shit in your dinner this time?" You snort.

Rose leads your steps, and the both of you move slowly around a drunk couple.

Rose hums for a moment. "Something that's going to shit in your dinner too, no doubt."

You move the both of you around in a circle, slowly. "Oh please dearest sweetest loveliest graciousest humblest sister tell me more."

"Graciousest isn't a word."

"Fuck you."

Rose makes the tiniest amused huff, which you'll take as a win any day. She doesn't, however, elaborate. Fucking rude, right? She moves so that her forehead is pressed lightly against your shoulder, and she closes her eyes.