Work Text:
It was late within the halls of the Hazbin Hotel when the grandfather clock in the lobby tolled its final bells, ringing out across the building twelve times before coming to rest, just like the remainder of the hotel: all in a standstill. Except, of course, Argos and Alastor, who had both retreated to hotel lounge to finally wind down after the busy day; they needed it after putting up with Charlie's hopeful attempts at making everyone in the hotel tolerate each other for once. As much as he believed in Charlie, Argos also had the awareness that it would take more than trust exercises to redeem even a fifth of Hell's overflowing population, especially since the angels had now doubled the annual extermination visits to bi-annual, increasing tensions among both Heaven and Hell.
However, he was quickly pulled out of his state of worry when Alastor, who had made himself comfortable on the couch nearest to the fireplace whilst reading a book, pulled him into a side hug, something he'd never seen the man do towards anyone else (except Charlie, but only when Alastor was trying to gain something). Regardless, he gladly accepted the token of affection, shuffling as close as he could so he could subtly take a peek whatever Alastor was reading. Picking up on his behaviour, he watched as Alastor quietly shifted his position so that he could see the pages better under the low light of the hotel lounge, the only proper light source in the room being the eerie yet comforting green glow of the fireplace.
"Thank you," he whispered tenderly into Alastor's ear, letting his weary head fall to the man's shoulder as he occupied himself with the pages of the book.
"It's no problem, my dear," Alastor whispered back in that static-laced voice of his, finding Argos' fascination with his book rather amusing, as it seemed that Argos was only reading along to avoid falling asleep so quickly, which seemed understandable enough. The night was perfect without any of the daily hassles and distractions; it didn't need to end just yet.
Nevertheless, as the night went on and his eyes grew heavy, the words in Alastor's book slowly blurring into a mess of black upon white and the sweet, nostalgic jazz music becoming like a soft lullaby to his mind, Argos felt his body being pulled down by the weight of exhaustion upon his shoulders as he finally gave in the to soothing temptation of sleep and gradually let his eyes shut, embracing its beckoning call. To be fair, he was in dire need of a proper night's sleep. Ever since his unfortunate death in the early 40's, he'd never been able to get a moment's rest without it being disturbed by the same old war trauma coming up again and again, which deservedly drove him a bit mad. But now, when he was finally in a peaceful situation where no threats were around, no gunfire, no loud noises, and it was just him and Alastor sharing a pleasant embrace, it was as if nothing ever happened to him. His shattered leg stopped hurting. His body ached less. His mind was finally calm. After so long of having nowhere to go and scraping himself back up from the dirt time and time again, he was more than grateful to finally have a place he could call home.
Noticing Argos limp body curled up by his side, properly resting for the first time in a decades, Alastor set his book down upon the coffee table, using his now free hand to gently comb through Argos' soft, slightly curly, pastel blue locks, letting out a soft sigh of contentedness as he leant down to kiss Argos' cheek, whispering what seemed to be a fluttery "I love you" before deciding on letting Argos finally rest and get some well-deserved sleep.
For the first time, Argos got a chance to sleep uninterrupted.
For the first time, his body stopped aching.
For the first time, he finally felt..
..safe.