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Fizz whined as he massaged his head through his hat. He had to give it to the limp dick's wife, she had a mean swing. The bitch had managed to crack that guitar right over one of his horn stubs, and the pain had shot right through his head to his very core. He leaned into the large hand rubbing slow circles into the small of his back. He and Asmodeus were both leaning against the rail of their balcony while Verosika strutted about on stage, easing the club back into its usual debauchery.
"You still hurtin' dollface?" the demon king murmured. Fizz gave a slow nod, sure that even his own voice would only aggravate his splitting headache. He had managed to put on a brave face on stage so Ozzie wouldn't spill imp blood all over their loyal patrons, but even his robotic limbs still felt rattled by the impact.
"We can always close up early. Get you to bed." Ozzie leaned in, his hand moving to stroke up and down the imp's side. It was a tempting offer. Very tempting.
But the club came first. Besides, maybe if Fizz worked hard enough to save the show tonight, discussion about his and Ozzie's little display on stage would be kept to a minimum.
"Stolas is that you?"
"Are you sleeping with an imp?!"
Fizz shook his head on instinct, though the sharp jolt of pain helped to clear away his thoughts. He pulled away from Ozzie's touch as roaring applause hit his ears. Verosika was making her way off stage, blowing kisses and posing for photos. He was pretty sure he saw her flash a boob at the bartender.
"That's my cue."
Before Asmodeus could protest, the imp threw himself over the rail, extending his legs down to the stage below.
"Well, well, well! Now that's more like i- shit!" The room spun as his feet hit the floor, stomach lurching as he fumbled forward into the mic stand. He clung to it for dear life, trying to ground himself while hushed whispers were passed around the tables below.
"Woops," he chuckled dryly, swallowing hard and straightening himself out, a big grin on his face, "looks like I've had a few too many. After that shit show of an opening, though, I'm sure we all needed a little something to recover."
A few people drunkenly raised their glasses, bright liquor sloshing out onto the tables. Fizz eyed them, a drink actually didn't sound too bad. He reached blindly into the crowd, pulling out the first glass his fingers brushed and took a sip, only to spit it right back out.
"Who's the little bitch that ordered a virgin daiquiri?"
The glass landed somewhere behind him with a shatter and he launched into his usual transition routine. As he paced up and down the edge of the stage, trying to keep the crowd laughing, he was almost able to ignore the way his brain pulsed against his skull, threatening to pop. Or maybe that was because his body had gone fuzzy, his limbs slowly turning to jelly. The jester squinted as the lights flared up all around him.
"Looks like I'm not the only drunk up here. I think our stage manager needs to get it together before they blind someone." He cast a dirty look to the imp by the control panel, who only stared at him in confusion.
"I said-" he flinched as his voice practically blew out his ear drums, leaving a soft ringing in its wake. A cold sweat broke out over his skin and the imp tugged at his ruffled collar. The thing suddenly felt like it was suffocating him. The whispering returned, only now everyone might as well have been shouting at him.
Shit.
Off stage. He had to get off stage.
He muttered an apology before spinning on his heel, only that ended up sending the room swirling again. He was out before he hit the floor.
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"Fizzy..."
He wasn't sure how it was possible, but that woman must have hit him so hard, she knocked him up to heaven. As he came to, he felt wonderfully fuzzy and floaty. Cotton balls filled his head and he was cocooned in the soft, warm scent of Ozzie's cologne.
"Come on, Fizzy..."
The imp sighed in content as he was cradled against a mound of fluff. He was nowhere and everywhere at once. There was no time. Only that one blissful moment in his soft, fuzzy void that smelled like his favorite demon in Hell. He snuggled into it, trying to bury himself.
"That's right, dollface. Come back to me."
"Ozzie..." Fizz slurred. Even his tongue felt like a pile of putty. He cracked his eyes open as his surroundings began to come into focus. This wasn't his room, he was sure of that, but something was wrong. His surroundings were hazy. The only other thing his brain seemed able to process was a relieved Asmodeus gazing down at him. Whatever he was on, it was the good stuff. "Mmm, m' high s' balls"
Ozzie's deep laugh rumbled through him. "You gave me quite the scare, doll."
He had? The jester scrunched up his face as he tried to think back to what happened before he'd woken up, but everything outside of the present was a thick fog. He gave up and shut his eyes, opting to continue pressing into the larger man. Thinking was too tiring. It could wait until later.
They sat in silence, Ozzie running a hand over his broken horns as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Something told Fizz he wasn't going to be happy when the drugs wore off, but whatever was weighing him down before, it could wait.