Welcome to the ... festive ... portion of our programming! Make sure you read all the way down to the bottom of the blog post for a tiny holiday gift from me to you. :)

I've just returned from a whirlwind trip to Northern California. Some photos are shared in a reel on my IG account if you wish to see my IRL antics.

I hope you all have a lovely Crisis Eve, however you celebrate (or if you don't).

Chapter 15: All the Gnus that's Fit to Print

Alastor was nowhere to be found when Grace woke the next morning.

With a hairsbreadth over a week to go, Christmas decorating at the Hazbin Hotel commenced in earnest in the wee hours of daylight. 

Not feeling in the most festive of spirits, Grace hung back and watched from the bar with Husk—alongside a generous spread of breakfast finger-foods at which she absentmindedly picked.

The decorating kicked off with Vaggie winding garland around the handrail on the stairs. Charlie followed close behind her, adding shiny and glittering baubles to the garland.

In the hotel’s lobby and with a typically needless, grandiose wave of his arm, Lucifer erected a tree that made Grace think he was compensating for his stature. He then adorned the tree with ornaments and ribbons in the same color scheme as Charlie’s garland decorations. He snapped potted poinsettias into existence on the far end of each stairstep, alternating red and white with the occasional accent of faux plants that bore glittery gold bracts.

When nine AM rolled around and decorating took priority over Charlie’s daily exercises, Kofax strolled into the common area, laptop tucked beneath her right arm and a shit-eating grin lighting her face. 

“What did you do?” Husk pressed, leaning on the bar and eying the Hacker Demon warily.

Kofax laughed, setting her laptop down on the bar. “Nothing that concerns anybody here.” She stretched in front of Grace to grab something from the tray to Grace’s right. “Ooh! Blueberry muffin! Yoink!” She plopped onto the barstool to Grace’s left, stuffing the muffin in her mouth in a thoroughly uncivilized—not to mention unladylike—manner.

Angel Dust made his appearance shortly after, bursting through the front door of the hotel with Cherri Bomb hanging on his arm. Something about the way they staggered in, laughing hysterically, made Grace think they’d both been out all night drinking.

“Oh, we’re decorating?” Cherri exclaimed. 

“Well, we are,” Vaggie replied, eyeing the drunken fools. “And we’d like for it not to get messed up.”

“Or puked on,” Lucifer added with a deep, disapproving frown.

“Pfft, we’re not lightweights,” said Angel, straightening. Sobering with impressive speed, he pointed out, “The tree is missing its star.”

“I’ve got one we can use as a tree-topper!” Niffty chirped, jumping up and down and waving her little arms. “Lemme go get it!”

Once she disappeared into the kitchen, Grace leaned on the bar top. “Anyone else kind of expecting a train wreck?” 

“Come on, now, give the little bug a chance to pleasantly surprise us,” Cherri remarked, though the smile on her face seemed to indicate she was waiting for the very same well-intentioned disaster Grace was.

Niffty then emerged from the kitchen, holding a five-pointed star above her head. It was clearly a charmingly handmade craft comprised of twigs, twine, and —

“Are those roaches?” Vaggie asked from her vantage point on the staircase.

“Yep!” Niffty chirped.

“That you stored in the kitchen?” Charlie asked slowly, her eyebrows pulling together.

Niffty replied with a proud grin, “Caught, stored, and made!”

Several sinners voiced their opinion in unison: “Gross.”

Grace smugly picked up her coffee mug and sipped. She paused and glanced at the liquid, wondering how safe it really was to eat any of the food prepared on site. Well, haven’t gotten sick yet … And she continued nursing her coffee.

Niffty ran up to Lucifer and offered it to him. Lucifer glanced helplessly at Charlie; he clearly didn’t want to place it on his tree. Charlie gave him a small, encouraging smile. 

Nonetheless, Lucifer told Niffty, “I’ll pass, thank you.”

Niffty pouted, her eye starting to shimmer with the imminent threat of tears.

Angel cast a disparaging glance at the King of Hell. “I can help you put that up,” he told Niffty, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the tree. Even with Angel’s height, Niffty couldn’t reach the top of the tree.

“I’ll help you help her,” Cherri chimed in with a grin at Niffty. “Us one-eyed gals gotta stick together, yeah?”

Charlie looked on, a huge smile and her eyes wide. She clasped her hands together over her heart with a squeak.

Niffty climbed down Angel in favor of Cherri, who settled on his shoulders and opened her arms to help the little housekeeper up. Niffty climbed the two with ease; the totem of sinners was tall enough to position the roach-star in its place of honor—much to Lucifer’s blatant chagrin.

With the tree complete, the Morningstars moved on to things like wreaths and tinsel, fairy lights and girthy cream-colored candles within hourglass-shaped hurricane glass holders; slender red vases filled with bare, gilded branches and crisp white peacock feathers; shimmering white snowflakes among metallic ornaments suspended magically from the ceiling.

Alastor popped out from his dark shadows just behind Grace’s barstool in a way reminiscent of his behavior shortly after they’d met. He leaned over her right shoulder close enough that she thought he’d brushed her and plucked an apple turnover from the platter of pastries.

Husk eyed him warily and asked, “Where’ve you been all morning? As the facilities manager, shouldn’t you be helping decorate?”

“I was no place that concerns you,” Alastor answered, surprisingly unbothered. He spared a glance at Grace. “Nor does it concern you.”

“Excuse me,” she replied, leaning away from him with a frown. “Did I ask?”

“Not yet. I was just saying so preemptively.”

Agitated with his greeting, Grace glanced at the pastry in his hand. “There’s no meat in that, y’know.”

He took a bite, thought about it for a few moments as he chewed and swallowed. “It’s apple,” said Alastor with an aloof shrug. “Still good.”

Grace suspected that was the deer part of him talking. She caught and held his gaze for a few moments. He straightened, his smile widening and eyes crinkling in their outer corners. And there it was; he somehow found a way to look even more adorable.

Her chest warmed, the internal voice shrieking about Alastor like a fangirl at a New Kids on the Block concert.

In Grace’s peripheral vision, Kofax watched with an exceptionally toothy grin, a grin like she knew the dik dik demon had regressed to fangirling over her Demon Overlord.

Grace turned toward her with a “say something and I’ll murder you” stare.

Kofax couldn’t suppress a quiet giggle.

Grace took a deep breath, purposefully looking around at the decorations. “I’ve gotta admit, I wouldn’t think Christmas would be such a big occasion down here on account of the whole … y’know …” She wrung her hands, searching for a way to phrase this. “The Jesus, Angels, Heaven, etc., etc., etc. part of the holiday? Although things here have a far more secular than religious feel to them. I bet they’re partying it up like crazy at Jesus’ palace in Heaven.”

Alastor gave her an odd look.

“What? Does he not have a palace? Is it a castle? Mansion? An estate or villa?”

“Pretty sure those are interchangeable,” Cherri said through her laughter.

Grace picked up the red plastic cup Husk had just set down in front of her and added, “I kinda like the idea that Jesus has a castle. I want there to be a Heavenly moat around it. Filled with Heaven crocodiles and Heaven piranha.” She took a sip from the cup without first checking to see what it was. An eyebrow went up and she glanced the bar jockey’s way. “Eggnog?” Exceedingly hard eggnog.

Husk replied with a silent smile.

Alastor leaned on the bar, his elbow brushing Grace’s. With a smirk, he told her quietly, “You forgot the Heaven leeches.”

That little electric excitement zinged through Grace’s body but she managed a cool, “Don’t be silly. There’s no such thing as Heaven leeches.”

His expression remained unchanged. The color in his cheeks could not make the same assertion.

“Y’know what we need?” Niffty piped up. “We need Christmas music!”

Lucifer’s face lit up at the suggestion and he magicked a piano into existence in the middle of the hotel’s lobby. Before he could sit down on the bench, Alastor materialized on it, flashing a triumphant scowling smile at Lucifer.

Lucifer’s eyes flashed and he glowered, but he said nothing.

“Glad to know your little rivalry’s still going strong,” Charlie said with a frown.

Alastor began to play. 

It was no surprise to Grace that he knew how to play piano. She’d always kind of thought he played many musical instruments. Further, she wasn’t surprised that he played it well.

Grace recognized the melody; the surprise was that he was playing "O Come, All Ye Faithful."

She supposed in Alastor’s time, a religious upbringing would have been far more common than it was in her own time. As it was, Grace had been hard-pressed to evade Christmas carols—even the über-religious ones—while attending Southern California public schools in the 1980s. You want to be in choir? Band? You better learn these songs whether or not you believe.

You want to not be a pariah? You better just believe. Don’t believe? Believe, regardless. 

Just do it. Do it, do it, DO IT!

Grace snorted. Maybe if I believed back then, I wouldn’t be here now.

She watched Alastor’s back moving within his jacket as he played. 

Being here now, though, is markedly less miserable than it used to be. The shifting of fabric across his shoulders was nothing short of captivating.

She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until Husk nudged her. “Go on over there,” he urged, seemingly stunned he had to put the idea in her head.

Grace smiled a thin-lipped smile, tipped her head in appreciation, took her cup of eggnog, and went over to the piano. She positioned herself at its bridge to watch Alastor.

He continued to play, glancing up at her fleetingly before turning his attention to the keys, the pink in his cheeks now leaning reddish.

“When did you learn piano?” Grace asked and then promptly rolled her eyes at herself. Like’s he’s gonna answer. Like he won’t just pretend he didn’t hear the question or reprimand me for interrupting or distracting him. Like he’ll be honest even if he does answer.

Alastor didn’t miss a beat—with his fingertips brushing the piano's keys like a lover's caress, or in his response: “A few years before I discovered the joys a meat grinder could bring me.”

Probably ‘playing’ with a pilfered meat grinder distracted him from piano practice. Had that been the case, he didn’t lack the talent or skill in the absence of rehearsal.

Niffty popped up at the piano opposite Grace, but rather than just standing beside it or leaning on it, she climbed onto it and sprawled across the top, gazing down at her Demon Overlord with open affection. A twang of jealousy struck Grace in the way Alastor maintained eye contact with Niffty.

Why the fuck doesn’t he do that with me?! 

Didn’t he used to?

I could swear he did! 

Niffty turned an impossibly enormous eye on Grace. “Would you sing for us, Queen Roach? Please?”

Alastor returned his attention to his fingers.

Grace cleared her throat, amazed at herself she replied loudly enough to be heard over the piano: “I don’t know what carols I could sing.”

Niffty pouted. “Why not?”

Focusing on the eggnog, she admitted, “My voice is too low and I have a ridiculously limited range. There’s no good Christmas songs for someone like me to sing.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace caught Charlie turning an imploring gaze at Lucifer. Lucifer groaned, rolled his eyes, waved his hand and produced a music book from nothing in a puff of sparkly golden magic. Charlie had to take it from him, though, to set it on the music stand in front of Alastor’s face.

She opened it, glanced at the title of the song, and gave Grace an encouraging smile. “I think this should be just right for you.”

Fuck.

Something about Alastor’s pink-cheeked smile told Grace he had the same exact monosyllabic musing.

Grace thought wryly, Thanks for that, Charlie.

He concluded "O Come, All Ye Faithful," and studied the music for a few moments before playing the next song.

"Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire." Though she didn’t know the exact date off the top of her head or even a ballpark-figure year, Grace knew that song was written after Alastor’s time. Was he sight-reading the music? 

Grace took a steadying breath during the opening bar and asserted, “I don’t know the words to this.”

Kofax turned to look at Grace with an exaggerated eye roll and a mouthed, bullshit.

Niffty leaned over to look at the book on the music stand. “The lyrics are on the sheet music,” she pointed out.

Double-fuck. And thank you for that, Niffty.

Now Grace had two choices: admit she lied, or sit on the bench beside Alastor and pretend to be following the sheet music out of necessity.

She opted for the latter, as it had the added perk of sitting-beside-Alastor.

He straightened in his spot, stiffening enough that Grace couldn’t miss it, and kept his focus locked on the sheet music. 

The seemingly perpetual flush in his skin lately made Grace wonder if that had always been how his complexion was and that she’d just never noticed it before. It would go with the whole red aesthetic he favored.

His only acknowledgment that she’d sat beside him was a tense whisper. “Liar.”

She began to sing softly, letting the piano overpower her voice.

Bit by bit, Grace lost herself to the music and she leaned toward Alastor while she sang, resting her head against his shoulder. A moment later, she felt his cheek against the top of her head.

When the song ended, silence hung heavy in the hotel lobby.

No one said anything. No one, apparently, even thought to clap or cheer. But sure as shit, they were all watching.

In the deafening silence, Alastor moved on to another piece of music.

Moonlight Sonata. 

Was this his way of ensuring she didn’t have to sing anymore? Giving her a considerate ‘out,’ or telling her that she was a sucky singer without telling her that she was a sucky singer?

Grace lifted her head from his shoulder to see him regarding her with one raised eyebrow, and a pointed, sidelong glance he seemed disinclined to drop even when the butterflies in her stomach forced her to drop his gaze in favor of his hands as they glided along the piano’s keyboard. 

Watching him play so effortlessly, his fingertips tickling the keys seductively, made her feel all sorts of ways she really wished she didn’t.

Not as though she could possibly love him any more than she already did.

“That’s not a Christmas song, Alabastard,” Lucifer groused.

Kofax whipped a truly impressive glower at the King of Hell and snapped, “Let the Radio Demon play it!”

Judging by her response, Kofax, perhaps, had a third idea about Alastor’s choice.

Lucifer rolled his eyes and flopped dramatically into one of the armchairs where he proceeded to make all sorts of immature faces that got ignored by everyone—save Grace.

In the silence following that movement, Niffty heaved a heavy, dreamy sigh.

Still, nobody applauded. Nobody praised Alastor. There was just … nothing. Grace was utterly dismayed and downright appalled to see how everyone treated him.

No wonder he was so unfamiliar with praise when she’d given it to him. Poor guy!

Grace forced herself to meet his gaze. “That was beautiful,” she breathed. The red in his cheeks darkened and his gaze darted around the room, settled on her, darted around once more. He looked anxious. When he didn’t reply, she added, “Thank you, Spots.”

Alastor’s hands trembled as he held them just above the keys and he echoed, “Thank you,” as if he wasn’t fully aware of his own voice.

Silence fell again. Horrible, awkward, please-just-kill-me-all-over-again silence.

Kofax piped up, “So … does anyone think it’s weird that Vox never retaliated against me for the Great Hackening of 2024? It’s been months. Seems to me something should have happened by now.”

Grace excused herself from the piano bench and went back to the bar, pointing at her now empty red cup as she handed it to Husk. “Gonna need way more of that, please and thank you.” 

As Husk refilled the cup, Grace told Kofax, “It’s usually difficult to retaliate against an unknown entity.”

Never mind that Grace had sent a text to Vox essentially taking full credit for the attack. So if anyone were to be retaliated against, it would be her and not Kofax.

“It’s just something I think of from time to time,” Kofax replied. “If he’s got any coders worth their salt, they’d have been able to track the link and virus back to me.”

"So let's all be grateful," Vaggie interjected, "that he doesn't. We don't need any of the Vees coming here in any capacity."

Cherri added, "Too right!"

“You’re just that damn good,” Grace told Kofax, booping her little foxy nose playfully before accepting the refilled cup of eggnog from Husk. She mouthed a thank you! at the bartender and hacker demon when conversation otherwise resumed and Alastor picked another song to play from the book on the piano: "All I Want for Christmas is You."

Grace wondered if he had ever even heard it before; she knew without a doubt that was written long after he died, so it was probably another song he was sight-reading.

She watched him play, randomly thinking that he looked lonely there on the piano bench, and so after a few moments, went right back and sat beside him. No matter the peer pressure, she would not be singing this song.

He kept his eyes to the music but his smile widened when Grace joined him once more.

After that song's conclusion, she helped herself to the book of music and selected the next piece for Alastor to play. Though she wasn’t sure of the date this one had been written, she assumed it was after his time. Half of all time was after his time, after all, or at least as far as virtually everyone was concerned.

His gaze fell upon the title of the song and he laughed before beginning to play "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Grace could swear she heard Lucifer both growling and grinding his teeth from across the room.

Once Alastor finished that song, Niffty's little voice piped up. "Another! Play another, Alastor!"

So Grace took the book of sheet music in hand once more and flipped through it, finding an old familiar favorite in the latter half.

"Sleigh Ride." Oh, y'know what? I think this is actually in my range! If Air Supply could perform it, Grace rationalized, so can I!

She set the book, open to that song, in front of Alastor. "You should like this one; it gets a bit jazzy about two-thirds of the way in."

What Grace didn't recall of the piece until it was much too late, however, was the whole-step up key change at that same part. By then—whether resultant of misplaced pride or a little too much hard eggnog—she sat up tall, chin aloft in confidence that she could not only reach but nail those notes.

Loudly.

Reality was not nearly so kind to Grace, her voice cracking spectacularly on the 'ting' of 'Ring ting tingling too.'

Her ego deflated in a horrified, humiliated heartbeat, and with a pathetic whine, she smacked her burning face with both hands.

Nobody heard that whine—or even the piano—over the uproar of laughter that filled the hotel.

Oh, my god, holy fuck, no, why, why!!!! Grace's heart raced as she chanced a peek at Alastor from between two fingers.

He wasn't laughing.

Why isn't he laughing?

No; instead, he gazed at her with a sweet smile and red cheeks to rival her own.

If Grace had to guess—which of course she did because the Radio Demon had yet to be forthcoming with any thought or emotion—he was experiencing the closest he'd ever gotten to secondhand embarrassment.

The song ended, mercifully, and laughter died out bit by bit, when Angel Dust popped up behind the piano bench, clearing his throat and glancing upward pointedly. With a devious grin, he dangled some mistletoe above the pair.

Grace's heart all but stopped.

Alastor glanced wordlessly at Angel, then at the mistletoe. Then at Grace.

Her voice a weak, shaky whisper, Grace said, “You don’t have to give into the peer pressure of some dumb little parasitic plant if you don’t want to.”

Alastor considered it, playing a few random notes on the piano. “Well," he mused aloud, "if I were to fall prey to the influence of any kind of plant, I should think a parasite would be the least objectionable option.” He leaned over and pressed a brief kiss to her cheek. “Merry Christmas, Little Fawn.”

“You’d better get that mistletoe away from there before their cheeks set fire to it,” Vaggie pointed out with a wicked little grin.

That only made Grace’s blush burn brighter and Alastor's darken. She glanced at him, although he’d already moved on to playing another Christmas Carol. “I am so gonna decorate your antlers with tinsel later.”

He laughed, a single wry ‘ha!’ and added, “I dare you to try.”

Grace rested her hand glancing his thigh on the piano bench. “Don’t for one moment think I’m not that foolish.”

Alastor spared a sidelong glance at her, his smile twisting in fiendish glee. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

If ever Alastor had said ‘fuck around and find out,’ without saying ‘fuck around and find out,’ that was it. Grace thought better of her overnight shenanigans. She supposed she’d have to settle for just enjoying sleeping in his embrace, instead.

So, my deer friends, what was that little gift I mentioned at the top of the blog post?

Come back to the blog TOMORROW for another chapter drop!!!! :D