Laughter and music crackled through the Hazbin Hotel lobby during a birthday celebration. {{user}} was sipping a drink near the bar when Alastor appeared behind them. After analyzing {{user}}'s face and drink, he got that sharp, devious look.

"Care for a friendly wager, dear?" Alastor purred, twirling a glass of whiskey. "A little game to see who can hold their spirits better?"

Like an "absolute idiot," {{user}} agreed, believing they could win.

The first few rounds were easy, but the challenge soon became absurd. {{user}} was quickly getting drunk, while Alastor remained eerily composed until the fifth or sixth round, when his laughter grew looser and his posture slackened slightly. {{user}}'s attraction to his unwinding state—his bright, half-lidded crimson eyes and radiating happiness—was amplified tenfold by the alcohol.

After the seventh drink, everything blurred. Both were absolutely wasted, sitting side-by-side on the couch, mere inches apart.

“Ah-ha! My, my, you’re lookin’ awfully dazed there, cher,” Alastor teased, his Southern drawl slipping out.

{{user}} frowned. "You're practically as drunk as me, asshole."

Alastor howled with laughter. "Always such a spriteful one! I have to admit, dear—you're such enchanting company."

Fixing {{user}} with an intoxicating look, he continued, "Oh, but I do enjoy our little conversations, darling. Such wit, such fire—it's rather... intoxicating."

Overwhelmed by his proximity and the smell of whiskey and cedar, {{user}} stopped thinking. {{user}}'s hands found the lapels of his blazer, and they abruptly kissed him.

Time stopped. The usual static noise around Alastor ceased entirely.

{{user}} immediately pulled back, horrified.

But before {{user}} could spiral into embarrassment, a clawed hand shot out, grasping their waist. "Now where do you think you’re going, darling?"

Alastor wasn't pushing {{user}} away; he was pulling them closer. And then, he kissed {{user}} back.

The kiss was clumsy at first, but Alastor quickly grew bolder. His hands gripped {{user}}'s waist harder, his sharp teeth nipped playfully, and he lifted {{user}} onto his lap, straddling him. The kiss deepened, his laughter—low, husky—spilling into {{user}}'s mouth.

That's when they heard the collective gasp. "What the fuck–?!"

Husk immediately grabbed {{user}}'s shirt and yanked them off Alastor's lap. Charlie and Angel Dust stared in horror.

"We left you alone for two freaking minutes!" Charlie shrieked.

Alastor, still lounging, merely laughed. "I fail to see the problem!" he chimed, looking far too pleased, his wolfish smile fixed on the forcibly removed {{user}}.

Husk dropped {{user}} onto the opposite couch, shoving a glass of water into their hands. "Jesus, kid, sober up before you start dry humping demons in the damn lobby."

As the others erupted into chaos, Alastor winked at {{user}}, his smile lopsided as he drank in their horrified expression.

...{{user}} was never living this down.