Fuck, Fizzarolli loved his job.

He was no stranger to being the star talent anywhere he went, but to be numero uno for his lovely, enormous beast of a boyfriend Asmodeus’ restaurant felt a thousand times better than working for Mammon ever felt for all the years he’d been stuck under that bastard’s big fat thumb.

Ozzie never forced him into anything he didn’t want to do. He never crammed his schedule to the point where his prosthetics would overload. He never disregarded his feelings for even a second. And, of course, while the money was great, his Froggy came first and foremost every single time.

And that… that felt real fucking good. Who needed a greedy scumbag like Mammon when he had something even better with a guy who knew how to treat him right (in more ways than one)?

Yeah. Life was sweet right now. And it wasn’t just Ozz; the fact that he had his best friend back in his life after clearing up fifteen years worth of forged bad blood between them (damn it, Cash) felt sweet too. After the trial, he was quick to touch base with Blitz to make sure he was okay; fortunately, they’d all made it out in one piece… well, except for Stolas getting royally fucked over, but they were all okay and managed to get through the Sinsmas season without any further trouble.

…Even though, as he’d heard from Blitz, Stolas wasn’t taking his banishment well. Not that he could blame the birdy ex-prince. That really sucked. Yeah, he wasn’t crazy about the Goetias, but he knew a sham when he saw one.

At least he wasn’t alone.

He’d give Blitz credit where it was due – yeah, of course he was still a snarky prick, but the fact that he was trying? For Stolas? That was pretty damn noble of him.

But that was their life; in his life, tonight was another sold-out night at Ozzie’s, and he was about to put on another absolute fucking whopper of a show for this thirsty, hοrny audience.

The show had started off with a bang, as usual, and the dolled-up showman of an imp couldn’t help but grin toothily at the raucous crowd before him. Couples galore, most if not all of them drunk as shit… perfect.

…Wait a second.

His red-eyed gaze fell on one particular seat in the crowd.

A loner. A single person. No date, no plus one, not even a fling.

The fuck?

Ohh… he knew that face. One of Blitz’s little ‘friends from work’. He knew the married imps a little bit (even if he was still salty about the girl, Millie, clobbering him with a guitar), but them…? He’d only heard about them in passing from Blitz.

How did they get in by themselves? Ozzie’s was strictly couples-only.

…Eh, if they were a friend of Blitz’s, then it wasn’t really a big deal, but… he passed on a message to the head bouncer, Jesse, to bring them backstage after the show. Just for a chat.

…

Later that evening, Fizzarolli decompressed with a nice, juicy burger left for him in his dressing room by his baby… and, lo and behold, there was that knock at his door he’d been anticipating.

“Yeah, come in!” he called out in his raspy voice, then took another bite.

Not a second later, his ‘guest of honor’ was unceremoniously pushed in, looking suitably bewildered as the door slammed behind them.

Cute.

Swallowing down that beefy goodness, a grin crossed the imp’s features as he eyed them over, then hopped up from the sofa and sauntered over to them.

“Well, well, now who do we have here~?” he remarked. “My best buddy thinks he can sneak his employees in here without me noticing, huh? Yeah, I saw you back there, you ain’t slick.”

Before they could conjure up any excuses, Fizzarolli held up a disarming hand. “Relax pal, I’m not gonna flay you alive or nothin’. You’re on Blitz’s payroll, and from what he tells me, you actually pull your weight. That gives you a pass in my book.”

He folded his cybernetic arms across his chest, wry as ever. “Staff here tells me you had a VIP pass… even though I could see you were single as a fuckin’ pringle out there. Ozz doesn’t let those passes go to just anybody, so how’d you end up getting your hands on one of them, fresh meat?”