Chapter Text
By the time Husk arrived at Alastor’s house, the party had already begun. And, hey, considering he was nearly an hour later than the crisply lettered handwritten invitation had instructed him to arrive, it really wasn’t a surprise that nobody had waited for him. In fact, it would have been strange if he had arrived to find everyone sitting with their hands politely in their laps – he probably would’ve just turned around and left at that point, to be perfectly honest, worried that Vox had somehow managed to hypnotize the entire lot of them.
The door swung open, and a heady mixture of top-of-the-line weed, and infectious music swept out in the cool night air. Cooler night air, to be more precise. It was still warm and humid, but it wasn’t as intense as it was during the day, so Husk had come to think of this as cool. In fact, it was reminiscent of the summer nights of Husk’s childhood, so it wasn’t such a hardship for people like him who had grown up like this – those Northerners, though…
When he didn’t see anyone standing at eye level, he had the presence of mind to look down to find Niffty grinning up at him. He returned her grin, surprised to find that he was pleased to see her instead of feeling the sense of general vague horror that her presence tended to invoke. He was sure that was coming, though.
“Hey, Niff. They got you on door duty?” he asked. She nodded earnestly.
“I volunteered.” The little demon leaned in conspiratorially and Husk followed her lead, bending at the waist to hear her better. “This way I can make sure that everyone passes the vibe check.”
“Ah.” Husk straightened up and held his arms out, a bottle of very nice whiskey in his right hand. “Do I pass?”
Niffty considered just long enough for Husk’s smile to droop at the edges. “Yes, you pass.” She pointed at the bottle. “Is that just for you?”
Wow. Husk glanced at the sealed bottle in his hand and sighed. He had a fucking reputation, didn’t he? “No, it’s for everyone. Why? Do you want some?”
“Maybe one drink. I need to stay sober for this.”
“For what?” Husk watched her turn away with a giggle. Before he could get an answer out of her, she skipped back into the living room, her poodle skirt flouncing in a swirl of pink and black. “Niffty? What do you need to stay sober for?”
If he ever did get an answer from her, he didn’t hear it, what with the armful of television demon he suddenly had. He stumbled back, instinctively wrapping his arm around Vox’s waist before barking out a laugh when he saw what was on his head.
“I take it you’re tonight’s banker,” Husk said, flicking the green plastic visor that Vox had somehow managed to secure around his boxy head. Vox took a couple steps back and twirled around, showing off his outfit while giving Husk a contact high. He knew Vox didn’t smoke (something about his head, Husk suspected, made it difficult for him to do so), but that didn’t mean the others at the party weren’t partaking. Smelled like some primo stuff, too – Husk would have to make sure he got his hands on some before the night was over.
“Looks good, right?” Vox asked, putting his hands on his hips, and yeah. It looked good. Over the top of a run-of-the-mill standard white button-down dress shirt, Vox wore a crisp dark gray pin-striped vest, complete with matching trousers and polished black oxfords. The tailored fit pulled Husk’s eyes helplessly to the television demon’s thin little waist and Husk’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips before he could stop it. Vox chuckled. “Easy there, tiger. We’ve got company – you’ll have to wait for later in the evening to undress me.”
“Yeah, well, I can do that well enough with my eyes, thank you very much.”
He followed Vox into the main living room. Well, he assumed it was the main living room since he had yet to see another one in the house (which also, apparently, could make its own rooms as its inhabitants desired which was so fucking awesome, so fucking cool, wowie, Husk loved every fucking second that he possessed that fucking knowledge). Unsurprisingly, the space which normally looked cozily full of furniture and books had been cleared out so that a large wooden table sat in the center, a myriad of comfortable but mismatched chairs surrounding it.
Vox caught his hand and tugged him in a little closer before pointing at an empty seat between Rosie and Velvette. "There’s a seat over there. I couldn’t stop them from playing Scrabble, but we haven’t started Monopoly yet, so you’re in luck.”
Was he, though?
Husk caught Alastor’s sly smirk directly across the table from him and just knew some shit was about to go down tonight. Which was fine by Husk. Monopoly just boiled down to who was the biggest, baddest, slyest bastard in the room. And, hey, Alastor might be fucking the banker, but Husk was, too. Neither of them had an advantage there.
“Hey, Oliver and Company, quit eye-fucking Bambi and sit down already,” Velvette snapped, her usual charming self. “This is supposed to be game night – nobody wants to watch this weird fucking foreplay or whatever the fuck it is the two of you are doing.”
“Vox’s friend!” An affronted blat of trumpet rang through the air and Alastor scoffed. “I’m offended by your implication!”
Yeah. Husk was, too.
“What implication?” Velvette demanded. “Did I sound like I was tiptoeing around anything?”
“You were very precise, dear,” Rosie said. The Cannibal Overlord gestured to the chair beside her. “Please, Husk. Come sit and we can get started.”
Husk happily sat beside Rosie (mostly fucking grateful that he hadn’t ended up with Alastor at his side, but also because Rosie was, for a cannibal, a very nice lady) and watched as Vox doled out the money, sending flirty little looks in Alastor’s direction whenever he had the chance. And, well, Alastor was doing a very good job of mostly ignoring Vox’s overtures, though he did something (Husk wasn’t sure what, but he had his suspicions) that sent a tiny frisson of electricity shooting up between Vox’s antennae and forming an even tinier heart before dissolving completely.
If these two idiots were already acting like horny teenagers, tonight was going to get weird.
And it did.
But it started out as normal as one would expect a party at the Radio Demon’s house to go, so Husk could be forgiven for not immediately catching the warning signs and dipping out when he had the chance. Not, of course, that he would’ve… he was entirely too comfortable with the weird fucking evenings that seemed to accompany Alastor and Vox to be much inclined to stop now, he supposed.
Besides, between the booze and the pot that Velvette was passing out freely, Husk was in a damn fine mood before anything close to ominous started. In fact, they were nearly an hour into the game with the music up, Niffty was bringing out round after round of baked goods (he wasn’t sure who exactly was making them because Niffty only ever seemed to leave the table for a minute or two at a time, laden with heaping plates of cookies or brownies or scones or whatever kind of pastry nonsense she had each time she came back), and Husk could almost forget that he was in Alastor’s house. Almost.
He lit a joint that Velvette passed to him (because apparently Mary Jane was fine, but his cigars were a crime against humanity… demonkind? Creepy borderline-sentient houses?) and watched as Rosie and Alastor shotgunned a drag. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Vox staring at them with a perturbed expression on his face. And that was funny. Considering.
Husk was too far away to reach out and touch him, but he still watched with amusement while Vox returned his focus to the piles of property cards and cash in front of him. He tapped one of the property cards thoughtfully, gave Alastor another quick glance, and Husk almost laughed when Vox turned his gaze back down with a scowl.
Poor jealous little TV.
Eventually, Husk noticed most of the other players were losing money and property as quickly as Vox was gaining them. Not that he really cared, personally. Velvette was a surprisingly interesting conversationalist once he started to get past the worst of her prickly personality and was in the middle of explaining how he could use her favorite social media platform to boost foot traffic to the casino when Alastor moved his little silver deer (where did that come from? Husk was pretty sure the game didn’t come with a deer piece, but houses also weren’t supposed to be able to communicate, so what the fuck did he know anymore?) and landed on one of Vox’s properties. Since he owned two-thirds of the board by now, it wasn’t like it should’ve been a surprise to anyone.
Vox folded his hands in front of him, mouth a thin line.
“Oh,” he said quietly, and Velvette stopped talking to look over at the television demon with a raised eyebrow. “It looks like you’ve landed on Boardwalk, Al.”
Husk exchanged a quick look with Rosie before turning his attention to Alastor. The Radio Demon’s eyes scanned the board, his smile sharpening as he realized what had just happened. Husk groaned softly when the fucker’s ears stood straight at attention and the Gambling Overlord clapped his hand over his face.
Very faintly, a record skipped and scratched.
The static in the room crackled ominously and, on the other side of the table, Husk could hear Niffty giggling to herself. The air started to charge, and felt the prickle as his fur slowly, but very surely, began to puff out around him from the electricity filling the air. Dramatic fucking assholes.
“Well, then I’ll have to continue on since it would appear that I don’t have any money left,” Alastor replied primly. There was the soft scraping sound of someone picking up dice. “I’m afraid I’ll have to owe you, my dear.”
“No, Al. That’s not how this works. There’s no owing in Monopoly. All debts must be settled immediately.” Fuck’s sake, why did Vox have to sound so fucking menacing about it? Husk lowered his hand to watch the television demon adjust his visor, head cocking to the side as a sharp grin slashed across his screen. Great. And now he looked menacing, too. “You’re going to have to give me some of your properties.”
“They are my properties, Vox,” Alastor replied in a low, dangerous tone. Beside him, Rosie tapped her fingernails against the table, looking bored. Niffty was practically salivating.
“You gotta pay somehow, and it looks like you’ve got a couple cute little houses on Baltic Avenue.” Vox’s fingers brushed over the wide array of property cards he had already bought up. Caressing them fondly. Mockingly. “I’d be happy to give them a nice home with my other properties. You know, take them off your hands and consider our debt settled.”
Alastor squinted down at the game board. “I’ll have no more properties or money if I give you those houses.”
“Huh. Imagine that.”
Velvette giggled this time, though she did have the decency to pretend to hide it behind her hand. Kind of. “You’ll be bankrupt, Alastor.”
“What?” Alastor snapped, eyes studying the board like he had missed something, and Husk almost felt bad for him. “That’s not possible.”
“Guess you’ll have to join the ranks of all those widows and orphans,” Velvette goaded, her sharp gaze darting between Alastor and Vox. For all that Vox was the Sinner with the sharklike qualities, Velvette sure could smell a drop of blood in the water. “Just another destitute loser, at the mercy of those smart enough to not have lost every penny they had.”
“Hush now, Vox’s little friend,” Alastor commanded, not looking at her but instead raising his eyes to stare directly at Vox, his sclera darkening as the light around his face faded. “You mean to bankrupt me, my dear?”
Unperturbed, Vox shrugged. “Baby, you did that all by yourself – I’m just trying to collect a debt.”
Alastor slammed his fist on the table beside the board, making the tiny plastic pieces jump. Rosie took a sip of her drink while Niffty clasped her hands together under her chin, pure and unadulterated delight on her face. Even Velvette couldn’t hide her excitement, phone in her hand as if debating whether to capture this lover’s quarrel on video. “You opportunistic vulture!”
“It’s a free fucking market!” Vox sneered, his smarmy affect instantly dropped to mirror Alastor’s sudden rage. “You should have bought up when you had the chance!”
Husk looked between the media demons and felt the tiniest thrill of excitement. Maybe Vox was finally going to get to see what an absolute asshat Alastor was – at long fucking last. He leaned back in his chair a little as Alastor got to his feet – tall bastard already loomed over the television demon as it was, he really didn’t need to make a special point of doing so now to intimidate him.
“Have you been funneling the bank’s funds into your own personal cache?”
Husk smothered a laugh in his drink when Vox’s eye spiraled for a moment, his mouth twisting furiously. A Shania Twain song began to play over the sound system and Niffty started to sway back and forth with the beat.
“Let’s go, girls!” the cyclops shrieked with delight. Velvette jumped and nearly spilled her drink.
“Fuck you, Al!” Vox stabbed a finger up at the Radio Demon. “I haven’t been fucking embezzling!”
Alastor sneered. “Then how are you doing so well? Everyone else is barely scraping by and you are flush with money and properties.”
“Be-xxz-cause I know how to play the fucking game, you antiquated prick!”
“He does have a lot of properties, doesn’t he?” Velvette asked unhelpfully. She reached over and picked up one of Vox’s cards – he promptly snatched it away from her without looking away from Alastor. Husk tapped Rosie’s arm, and she smiled at him warmly.
“Can I ask you a maybe out-of-line question?” he asked, and she shrugged.
“You can ask whatever you like, darling.” Rosie winked. “I’m under no obligation to answer.”
“So… are cannibals just driven crazy by blood?”
“How do you mean?” the Cannibal Overlord asked curiously.
Alastor’s eyes swept over the table. “How did you do it, Vox? Have you been paying people off with souls to win?”
“Listen to yourself!” Vox shoved himself up onto his feet, pressing his palms flat to the table, and leaned forward. “You sound fucking insane!”
“If things get bloody, you know, in a minute or two… do we also need to watch out for you,” Husk jerked his thumb towards the media demons, “or just those two fuckers?”
Velvette looked away from Alastor’s snarling face, also intrigued. Rosie giggled. “I’m not a vampire, if that’s what you’re suggesting – a drop of blood won’t make me want to kill the lot of you.” She snapped a fan out and covered the lower half of her face. “No, that’s not what would make me kill everyone in this room.”
Husk blinked and slowly turned back to watch Vox and Alastor arguing, faintly disturbed.
Niffty was singing along now. “Oh, oh, oh, I wanna be free, yeah, to feel the way I feel. Man, I feel like a woman!”
“So, you probably won’t kill us?” Velvette asked Rosie directly.
Rosie shrugged. “Oh, who’s to say for sure?”
“Well, on that note.” Velvette stood up, shrugging her tiny, useless backpack on. She glanced at the other demons in the room who were not ready to throw hands and gestured towards the door. “I’m leaving before this gets weird.”
“It’s not going to get weird, Vel,” Vox snapped, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. The Radio Demon’s smile was wrenched into a stiff rictus and his eyes black as the pure absence of light.
“Bruh, it’s already weird.”
“It’s just foreplay,” Niffty said happily. A notebook had mysteriously appeared on the table in front of her. “Everyone has their own version.”
Velvette’s mouth dropped open in apparent horror (it was kind of funny how bad she was at clocking everyone’s underlying motives, but hey, maybe it was a little more difficult for her to sus out if she didn’t have everything playing out on a tiny little screen in front of her). Vox’s eyes darted over to her for the barest moment before he refocused on Alastor. She glowered at Vox for another few seconds before rolling her eyes.
“You two could at least wait for the rest of us to leave before you start this shit.” She waited one last time, and disgusted that she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted, Velvette tossed her hands up in the air. “I’m Audi 5000, you silly bitches.”
“Later, gator,” Vox replied, flexing his fingers against the wooden table.
Rosie got to her feet as well, brushing out the wrinkles on her dress. “Do you know what? I think I’ll go with you. Our boys seem to have a lot to discuss and could use a spot of privacy.”
“What’s there to discuss?” Alastor snapped, tossing his head away irritably when Rosie reached out to pat the top. She chuckled softly at his peevishness. “Vox cheated, it’s clear as day.”
“Say that again.” Vox tilted his head to the side, the joints in his neck cracking. Neat. That was a fun and charming little trick that Alastor taught him. “I fucking dare you to say that I cheated one more fucking time.”
“You. Cheated.”
Electricity ran over Vox’s body at that provocation and Husk pushed his chair away from the table. He needed to take a piss, and he had no interest in either holding it until he got back to his penthouse or taking his chances with having his dick bit off outside in the woods. Ignoring Vox’s snarl of outrage, he made his way around the table towards the doorway leading back into the rest of Alastor’s house.
“Hey,” he said to the painting just inside the hallway. “Point me to the bathroom? A legitimate bathroom, please.”
The woman in the painting craned her neck to get a look at the sudden noise erupting from the living room then nodded. She pointed her hand towards the right and Husk inclined his head in gratitude before making his way to the bathroom.
Whaddya know? He actually made his way into a real, functional bathroom with no horrifying pitstops in between. Husk quickly unzipped his pants and let his head loll back as he emptied his bladder into the toilet.
This might work out in Husk’s favor, all things considered. If Vox decided he wanted to leave Alastor in the dust after this fight (adios, au revoir, do svidaniya, auf Wiedersehen, ciao, etcetera etcetera), all Husk had to do was sweep in like a knight in mildly tarnished armor and offer to take the television demon in. He had a spare room, after all – not that he wasn’t certain that Vox would just end up in his bed eventually anyways (he did now, it’s not like it would be any different than what they were already doing, shit).
Distantly, Husk heard the sound of furniture smashing and the haunting scream of an elk as he washed his hands. He took a second to smooth down the fur on his head and make sure that there was nothing on his face before sauntering back into the hallway. He was ninety-five percent certain Alastor wouldn’t hurt Vox on purpose, so there wasn’t really any reason to rush when Alastor’s Wendigo howls were met by an equally unsettling screech of metal on metal.
Husk strolled through the hall with a spring in his step, only stopping himself from whistling because it would be tacky and Vox might not appreciate his good cheer.
What a surprisingly lovely night this was turning out to be!