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Alastor hissed as he clutched at his chest, took another step. Each breath sent pain shooting through his entire body, and the temptation to just lie down and be done with it was immense, but he couldn't. Not yet. He could see Vee Tower in the distance, his destination, what he was fighting so hard for.
If he was going to die, he needed to see Valentino one last time.
Another step. More pain.
He wanted to travel through the shadows, but he didn't trust himself not to get lost in them, never come back out. So old fashioned walking it was. A trail of blood followed him, made him easy to track, but it was the least of his worries. At least the exorcists had retreated, all he needed to worry about was sinners looking for an easy rise in power.
It took him far longer than he'd like to admit getting to the tower, and once he was there, he simply stood, unsure how to proceed. Going straight through the front door was out of the question. Going any other way required more strength than he had.
He looked up at the penthouse, so far above him.
Valentino was in there.
He stood to his full height, no matter how much it hurt.
Black tentacles ripped from his back. He panted with the exertion it took to maintain them, exacerbating the wound on his chest. But Alastor fought through the pain, dug the tentacles into the side of the building, hauling himself up.
Valentino would forgive him for the damage.
Maybe.
His vision was starting to go, or had he just lost his monocle? He couldn't tell, couldn't lift his hands to check.
The great glass walls of the penthouse were right in front of him, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't break them. He looked through the window, clawed at it desperately.
All three Vees were inside, eyes glued to the television.
Velvette was the first to look up, notice his frantically waving tentacles. Her eyes widened and without taking her gaze from the Radio Demon, she reached beside her, slapped at Vox until he finally looked up too.
Alastor didn't need to hear him to know the TV demon had let a 'holy shit' slip.
Which is what made Valentino finally pull his attention from his phone.
He dropped it to the ground.
Alastor watched it shatter.
His arms trembled.
If he had to hold on any longer, he'd fall.
The window beside him exploded.
Hands grabbed at him, pulled him inside.
He cried out at the pain.
"How the Hell did you get here?"
"Better question, how the fuck are you alive?"
Alastor ignored them both, looked at Valentino, holding onto him so tightly.
"I saw you." He whispered, "I saw you fighting Adam, I thought- oh amorcito-"
"Val-"
The glare Valentino sent Vox's way succeeded in silencing him.
He adjusted his grip on Alastor, hauled him into his arms, pointedly turned away from the other Vees. He took them to his bedroom, sat down on the bed and cradled the smaller demon to his chest. "You're not dying today, Al."
"Well, I wouldn't like to either, but... this is pretty serious, let's not kid ourselves, hmm?" It was a struggle to get the words out, each one felt like a knife, but still he forced himself to continue. "I just wanted to see you one last time, in case I... oh, don't look at me like that dear, smile please."
"Fuck off." Valentino hissed, angrily swiping at the tears in his eyes. "I hate you, you know that? I hate you so much right now."
Alastor's wavering smile held a little more steady at that, "You don't mean that."
"I wish I'd never met you, you bastard."
"Val..."
"What am I supposed to do, huh? What am I supposed to do if you die? Carry on? Fuck off, I don't want to."
Alastor let out a weak chuckle, "I'm sorry."
"Don't." Valentino whimpered, "Don't, Alastor, please." He hugged the deer close, rocked him as he dissolved into incoherent Spanish.
Alastor could only make out some pet names, some creative cuss words, the rest of it he was glad he didn't understand. He didn't want to disturb him, but when he tried to swallow some blood that was filling his mouth, it only resulted in a coughing fit. He clawed at his throat, managed to undo his bowtie, loosen the collar of his shirt, but even when the fit passed, he struggled to breathe calmly again.
"Al?" Valentino choked out, sounding panicked.
Panicked and so, so hurt.
"I can feel them." Alastor said, voice strained, "The chains around my neck, I- my deal... I want it gone. I have to get out."
"We'll find a way." Valentino assured him, "You'll live, and we'll kill that bitch together."
Alastor was too tired to argue with him about how impossible it all was. "I'm cold." He said instead.
Valentino adjusted their position, unfurling his wings. He curled up in the middle of the bed, Alastor against his chest and wrapped his wings around them both. "Better?"
"A little... I'm sorry about the blood. I know you hate when I get it everywhere."
"It's okay. I'd prefer a random sinner's blood to your own, but I'll live."
He stilled, realizing his poor choice of words.
Hot tears soaked Alastor's hair.
Alastor sighed and closed his eyes.
-
When he opened them again, the room was just as dark as it had been when he went to sleep, but he was alone. His top half was unclothed, but wrapped in bandages, fresh white aside from small flecks of dried blood. He sat up slowly, looked around the room.
As he eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized he wasn't actually alone.
Valentino was sitting in a chair beside the bed, looking a dishevelled mess. His mane that was usually so perfectly styled was so wild, the red hearts that adorned it were impossible to make out. His feathered antennae suffered the same fate.
"Val...?" He called softly, voice hoarse, "Would you wake up, dear?" He shuffled to the edge of the bed, reached out to touch the moth's knee.
Valentino jolted up, eyes wide.
He spotted Alastor and launched himself from the chair, pinned him to the bed in a bone crushing hug. "You really fucking scared me, you prick! If you ever do something like that again, I'll kill you myself."
"That's fair, I suppose."
"Seriously, don't." Valentino pleaded, the trembling of his body so obvious with them so close.
"I'll try."
It was the best he could offer.
Valentino returned to the chair, pulled Alastor into his lap so he could smother his face with many desperate kisses. All four hands held him tightly, like he'd disappear at any moment.
"I thought... I-"
"You were gonna die? We all did, Bambi, it looked bad. You lost a lot of blood, but the cut itself wasn't too deep. Clean too, easy for Velvette to stitch up." Valentino explained, "You just needed some sleep. This is the first time you've woken up, it's been a whole week."
"A week? I should-"
"No. Nuh huh. Not at all. The princess is fine, the hotel is fine, you're staying right here until that wound is nothing but a sexy scar."
"And how does Vox feel about that?"
"Acts like he's going to combust any time he looks at you, but he's tolerated us this long, he can tolerate us a little more."
"So...?"
"Back to sleep with you." Valentino spoke softly, but firmly, "Unless you need anything?"
Alastor thought about it, "Something to eat and drink would be nice, but I'd rather go back to sleep first."
Valentino gathered him up, tucked them both snuggly under the covers.
Alastor kissed him until tears welled in both their eyes. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
"Touched I was the last thing you wanted to see."
Alastor brushed fingertips over the pimp's face, collected tears, "There's no one else I'd rather be with, in my final moments or any other moments."
"You're a sap."
"I love you."
Valentino blinked, "What."
"I love you. I never said it before, thought I would before I... but I chickened out, even then. But it's true. I do. I've never loved anyone more-"
"I love you too." Valentino breathed, "I love you." He placed a kiss to Alastor's nose, "I love you." His forehead, "I love you." Each cheek, "I love you." Finally his lips, "I love you, amorcito. Te amo. I love you."
"Always have to one up me."
"Always." Valentino grinned, his first true smile since Alastor had arrived at the tower. "Good night, mi corazón. Sweet dreams."
Alastor shook his head fondly, pushed at the moth until he rolled onto his back. He placed his head on that broad chest, felt a large wing drape over him like a blanket, the familiarity of it bringing more comfort than he'd felt in a long while. "Good night, my dear."