Life was in full swing at Louie’s, demons, fallen angels, and a few elves sat, packing the bar and tables. Chaos was the name of the game. Some came to forget, some came to wallow, and some came to take advantage of those too drunk to say no. Sweat and smoke filled the air, regret, the aftertaste, as bodies milled to the bar, between tables, or just too agitated to sit still.

It was the only place in Hell that she could safely go to get drunk—her father’s guard would not dare come crawling in here, not since the war, and certainly not after her, the brat that about a third of those sworn to protect the royal bodies, had tried to kill their princess, before the age of 16. They had stopped coming to Louie’s to get drunk, as their lord was known to…heartily…protest any contact with angels, fallen or otherwise since the war with heaven’s army had nearly destroyed majority of the first floor of the palace.

She’d done what she had set out do to: get drunk. The table was littered with empty glasses, and no clue what it was she was actually drinking. It stopped mattering about three hours ago. Why get drunk, you might ask. Well, how about because it’s none of your fucking business. Yeah, that was a believable answer.

She hummed meaningless a tune under her breath, focusing on the reflection of light through the glasses lying on their sides, bottom side up, standing upright. She jumped when a familiar feathered wing entered her field of vision, bearing another glass.

He bent down enough to give her a direct stare, which said he was sorry for whatever brought her to his bar. Placing the glass in front of her, he was mildly surprised she ignored it. He started to ask what it was that had her drinking so heavily, he had gotten a slew of answers before now: boyfriend’s stupidity, her father, boyfriend’s IQ, the guard, a fight with the boyfriend, and her father were just a few of the top reasons, but this was not the night for soul-bearing conversation.

She nodded, accepting the drink and the compassion. He was, after all one of, if not her only more positive memories of an angel—odd to say about a fallen in the middle of a war, but no one ever claimed she made sense. Her proverbial knight in shining armor, only his armor really was shiny—golden, to be more precise. The only thing he had been missing was the valiant steed, and their first meeting, in her memory would have been straight from a fairytale. He had found her and her life long friend cornered by a handful of angels, bent on playing soccer with their decapitated heads, or something equally…distasteful. So, being of such high moral fiber, he slew the angels, saved her life, and, had become her favorite angel forever, or until he pissed her off enough to strike his name from her pitifully short “ally” list. As such, it wasn’t of much surprise when he Fell in the following war 500 years after they met.

He almost seemed to age every time she left drunk, as if, by watching her innocence—her idea of how the world should be, die, he lost a bit of precious hope with her; hope for her, himself, his future, and his children. Strange, perhaps for the mighty Lucifer, big bad fallen, but she was also his lover’s friend, sort of, and certainly the friend of his lover’s charge. He looked around the room, almost unconsciously, searching.

She caught the movement of his eyes and her lips twitched, a feeble attempt of a smile, or self-mocking smirk. She raised her glass in salute and downed the liquid. He winced slightly as the liquid slid down her throat, without a reaction to its strength, nearly what he referred to as “Stald-strength”—meaning it would knock out a horse, rather than an elephant.

“Just me tonight, lover-boy,” she said, voice virtually unaffected by the drink. Intellectually, she knew it should have been a rasp, gasp, something other than her normal voice, but tonight was about giving the intellectual anything the finger. Tonight was about carefully measured stupidity, as much liquor as she could afford, and one hell of a hang over when the alcohol wore off.

He sighed, shrugged and moved on, he didn’t have the time to spend trying to wheedle out why she was here. He just hoped she had enough wits to come find him if she got into more trouble than she could handle.

She snarled at a demon wandering too close, and seemed too interested. She was drunk, not defenseless. He ignored the warning, looking at the dozen or so glasses.

He pulled out a chair across from her, staying out of arm or leg range, and joined her. “Need some company?” he asked, practically oozing “see, I’m nice”.

She glared, but otherwise ignored him.

“Anything in particular you’re trying to drown?”

“None of your business, go bug someone else,” she snapped, seemingly still focused on the glasses.

He frowned, “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Well, I don’t feel like being nice,” she replied, without missing a beat.

He seemed to decide a new tactic was in order. “So, I don’t see you that often. What’s an elf doing in hell?”

She looked around the bar, pointedly, eyes fixing on each of the half dozen or so elves scattered throughout the room. Unfortunately, missing the few she knew, who were watching with intense interest to see what she would do. “Yeah, elves are so rare, here,” she muttered, her eye twitching faintly. Ok, she could more or less tolerate the interruption of…whatever muddled thoughts she could keep track of, mostly about her pathetic attempt of having a private life. However, she drew the line at corny as hell lines, pick-up or otherwise. She drew herself up out of her slouch. “Getting drunk, and trying to think,” she snapped. “So piss off.”

He smiled grimly. “No, sorry. You look like you can use a friend.”

She snarled again. “Look, I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice demon, with perfectly nice intentions, but go the fuck away, you are not wanted.”

He sighed shaggy pale hair covered his red, red left eye. “I can’t do that.”

“Of course not,” she muttered, getting up, only to be stopped by a hand gripping her arm.

The reaction was immediate. “Let me go, now!” she hissed venomously. From various places around the bar, off-duty soldiers in Hell’s army stood, ready to defend that which was “theirs”. Among the demons were a few Fallen and one or two elves. Unfortunately, Kat’a and her demon “friend” missed their movement.

He shook his head. “Look, let be buy you a round, then I’ll go if you really want me to.” His tone said only too clearly that he knew she wouldn’t want him to leave.

“It never ends with “a round”,” she snarled, trying to peel his fingers off her arm, mostly by twisting the limb a lot, hoping to dislodge the hand by sheer movement, the free hand retrieving her dagger. Sighing, she rested the blade’s sharp edge against his arm. “Let me the fuck go, and you won’t lose anything you’ll miss,” she bit out, digging the blade into his arm with just enough force to make her point, without too much mess. Having won her freedom, she backed away from him and wandering away, only to be intercepted.

“Hiya, squirt. Smashed enough?” Louie asked, draping an arm around her shoulders. He’d been keeping an eye on her since her obviously unwanted admirer sat with her.

“Hi Louie,” she muttered, burrowing into him. “Not near, I can still think.”

“Yeah, I can see the bad of that,” he replied sarcastically. “Who’d want to think?”

“Shuddup.”

Someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned to find herself face-to-chest with the pest of a demon. She groaned and turned back to Louie, silently asking for help.

“Problem?” he asked, mildly.

“Nope, just wondered where my friend had wandered off to,” demon-boy replied.

Louie raised a skeptical eyebrow, sharp eyes darting to the slowly growing red stain on his sleeve. “Mm-hmm.”

She nestled closer to Louie. “Go find someone else to pester. I told you, I want to get drunk, think, and be left alone,” she snapped, eyes blazing.

“Well, that seems clear enough,” Louie said, amicably. “You heard the Lady, shoo. Make a mess in my bar,” he growled softly, “and you will not live long enough to regret it.”

She smiled brightly at him as the demon lumbered off to find a companion for the night. “Thank you, Louie,” she said, kissing his cheek. Then her smart-ass side, despite feeble attempts to keep it reined, kicked in and she grinned, “See I even managed to not start a fight and destroy your bar.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’d be able to, too,” he muttered, ruffling her hair and laughing at her scowl.

It wasn’t long before she was curled up on his couch, dozing, as he waited for closing time. She had consumed another few drinks before he finally stopped handing them to her, and, as she couldn’t remember the name, it was pointless to try and ask someone else. Then again, she couldn’t remember if she ever asked, either way, she was left with the same result: no more alcohol.

Half an hour later, Louie poked her awake. “Come on kiddo, time to go home.”

She muttered sleepily and tried to ignore him. That, however, is a feat of impossible nature, when he doesn’t want to be ignored.

Finally, after 10 minutes of poking, prodding, threats of harassment, and whatever else he could think of, she uncurled herself from the sofa, and with a death grip on his arm, slowly made their way down the ever-moving stairs.

“Next stop, the Elven Lands. Do you need me to go with you?” he asked, eyeing her slightly swaying frame.

“Nah. I’m good,” she replied instantly, which usually meant she would be in deep trouble if left to her own devices. However, it was an old habit, and he took her word.

“Ok, then. Be safe or Stald and T will kill me,” he said, smirking.

She looked up and grinned, “Aw, I didn’t know you cared.” Unfortunately, it was that moment that the world spun, and she fell into him, smacking her nose against his chest. “Ow,” she grumbled reflexively.

Louie rubbed her nose lightly. “Everything still work?” the Louie on the left asked.

“Aw, hell, Louie, I have some bad news. You have a twin,” she said, very matter-of-factly, pointedly ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that suggested Stald could have one, and she could have the other.

He sighed. “Ok, great. Another trip, come on, I’ll get you home.”

She tried to make a face at him, but found it too challenging with the world spinning and all sorts of pretty, distracting shapes in the lights.

Finally home, without being sick, or with anything more serious than a slowly forming headache, Louie tried to leave, but found restraining hand on his wrist.

“Thanks, Louie. Sorry if I hurt you,” she mumbled.

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, you can pay me back with labor. Few tables, some dirty glasses…you’ll be golden.”

Without really thinking about proximity she arched up, stretching, only to stop abruptly when instead of air, she met…lips? That snapped her eyes open fast and stared, blushing furiously. “Oh my,” she squeaked. “I thought you’d left. I’m so sorry, Louie,” she rambled on with various stuttered apologies, turning a deeper red.

He collected himself, no longer quite so wide-eyed and smirked. “No worries…yet. Just remember I have this to hold over your head.” And he walked out.

She flopped back onto her pillows and turned redder still, until what he had said sunk in past the alcohol into her brain, causing her to pale almost as fast as she blushed. Fuck, this wasn’t going to be pretty.

She burrowed under the sheets, covered completely, waiting for the highly amused fallen to leave, which, not surprising took a while and his exit was also excessively loud, with a lot of laughing and snickering. She poked her head out from under the covers only when the door closed and the sound of Louie’s amusement was a mere echo in the halls. She started to roll over when she ran into an obstacle.

“Shh,” a familiar voice whispered.

She groaned and pried open reluctant eyes. She blinked, utterly bewildered as she saw…Louie? But, didn’t he just…? She stared between the door and the person in her bed.

“Louie? But…um…you’re missing your wing. You’re missing your wing?! Shit! What happened?” she asked distractedly, looking around the room, as if expecting to see the missing wing mysteriously materialize onto her bedroom floor.

He frowned. “Um, luv? I’m not Louie.” He repeated himself another three or four times before what he said actually sunk in.

“You sure look like him…ya know, minus the wing…where’d it go?”

He groaned. “The wing is with Louie. I’m Rai, remember? Boyfriend? Ringing a bell? Your father hates me?”

She blinked again, and stared hard at the half-naked body in her bed. Slowly, her mind saw who was sitting, looking half annoyed, half amused, while she was searching desperately for something that wasn’t there. “Rai?” she repeated, before passing out.

She woke groaning and feeling the effects of a full-blown hang over. Oddly, she relished her churning stomach and pounding head. What wasn’t so welcome were the identical blond heads, hovering over her bed. She closed her eyes and rolled over, ignoring them.

“Louie, I’m glad you found your wing and all, but go away; you’re still twinned, and this time, I am not drunk,” she mumbled into her pillow.

She could feel his smirk and gritted her teeth. To say under the best of circumstances she was not a morning person, or remotely friendly when waking up is a massive understatement. The few friends she had among the guard told her once that waking her up was a form of punishment, as she was more likely to turn the unfortunate guard into a statue (there’s a reason she had the title “Crystalline Queen”--she was able to manipulate crystal) before rolling over and going back to sleep. So, when she woke with a hang over and two angels, one smirking for all he was worth and the other scowling down at her, she was far from amused. She was even less amused to recognize Raphael Morningstar, the scowling wonder, son of Lucifer Morningstar, the smirking asshole and her personal savior.

“You called me away from Ter’Angres for this? It’s a hang over, not some rare deadly virus! Anyone can fix this…you could cure it,” Raph snarled at Louie.

If anything, the smirk grew. “No, her father called you away for this. I came cuz its funny. Besides, your girlfriend can live without you for a little while, Raph.”

“SHE IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!” Raph exploded.

True to form, Louie just continued to smirk, letting it speak for him.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed, before the nearly instant regret as the room swam more violently, and her stomach churned harder. Yes, Louie, its fucking hilarious. Go away, both of you, she hoped, wished, nearly prayed for peace from them. “What did you give me?” she croaked.

He had abandoned his smirking for a full-blown grin. “Exactly what you asked for: really strong drinks,” he replied, ignoring Raph’s glare.

“Fine, thanks, now will you please leave so I can go back to sleep? Both of you,” she added, without opening her eyes.

“Sure sweetie, my twin and I were just leaving.”

“WHAT?! I AM NOT YOUR TWIN!” Raph exploded, forgetting momentarily, or on purpose that the elf had a hang over that would probably kill a human.

She groaned, an almost pitiful noise, and clamped her hands over her sensitive ears.

Louie chuckled quietly and, with a final pat on the head, dragged a sputtering, protesting, loud Raph out of the room with him.

Slowly she relaxed into an almost meditative state, sinking deeper into the mattress, snuggling into the warmth of the bedding. The peaceful state was interrupted as an arm wrapped around her from behind. Instinct took over, as her head was still too fuzzy to fully process what was going on, and her elbow slammed into the other’s rib cage with as much force as she could muster. A satisfying grunt and the removal of the offending limb let her know the target was hit. After another blow to the nose, she snatched a sword from under her bed and rolling to her feet, she stared at her attacker and saw…

“Rai? Shit, are you ok? I didn’t…I’m sorry…”she trailed off, babbling.

“Yes, I’m fine. I thought you knew I’d come back after Lucifer kicked me out when he arrived this morning,” he replied, rubbing his ribs surreptitiously.

She blinked and stared at him a while longer, sword at the ready before her senses truly kicked in. Storing the sword within arm’s reach once more, she flopped back onto her bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was going on,” she said, as meekly as she could.

“Will I get my ass kicked if I get back in bed?” he asked teasingly.

“Probably,” she replied, not missing a beat. “But not by me.”

“Fair enough,” he said seconds before curling around her again.