❤️FROM:
https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
I fucking love this
angel!dan and demon!phil
(Fluff and smut)
Words:7119
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This isn't at all the kind of place Dan would normally walk into, not in a thousand years. And he's had a thousand, and then some, but he's never quite worked up the nerve to actually act on the passing desire that tugged at his chest whenever he walked past a place like this until today.
And maybe that had been a good thing.
He stands just inside the entrance now, self-consciousness dripping from his pores like sweat as he takes in the dark scene around him: blueish purple UV lights cast odd, hazy shadows, throwing the entire club - stage and all - into a cool mess of shapes; Dan catches a glint every now and again as white teeth flash at him from unknown faces. He's suddenly not so sure this had been as great an idea as it was the moment he pulled himself to a stop at the door.
Not for the first time, he's left cursing the pure white of the feathered wings arching from his back - they're lovely, sure, but the blacklight highlights them like a spotlight, drawing looks from every corner as he takes a few hesitant steps further into the darkness of the club.
But he's determined, if nothing else - at least enough to try to fit in, now that he's here. It'd be far more embarrassing to turn tail and run now that he's inside than to stay and act like he knows what he's here for.
In a way, though, he does know: his eyes flick up to the long stage running through the middle of the club, a thrill spiking in his chest in spite of the empty runway.
The angel clubs are fine, full of gorgeous women with delicate white wings and draping, goddess-like dresses, and it's all quite classy and he can kill some time but it's boring. They're boring, with their stuffy luxuries, the other angels staring down their noses at Dan as though he doesn't belong. And he supposes they were right, he didn't. Still doesn't, although he isn't quite sure he belongs here either, stood in the middle of a demon club surrounded by leathery black wings attached to all manner of people who seem to find him - and no doubt the pearly-white wings fluttering nervously behind him - very intriguing.
Predatory eyes follow him from every corner as he shuffles his way to the nearest unoccupied table, one close to the stage and not so close to any of the other patrons; their gaze weighs on his shoulders, which he rolls before he sits, letting his wings extend briefly before pulling them in close, keeping them as tight against his back as the chair will allow. He's here to see the show, not be the show.
"I'm Phil, I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I get you something to drink?" The voice makes him jump, already on edge just from being here, and he whirls around to find a man watching him with a smirk and lifted brows, clearly just as curious as everyone else. Dan stuffs his nerves down into his chest and does his best to mirror the man's cool, casual demeanor, leaning back in his chair and letting his wings relax until the tips brush the floor.
"Something strong," Dan nods and waves a hand in dismissal, though he watches Phil's expression shift from curious to slightly amused; he's left wondering if that was the wrong thing to say, if he'd just lost the minuscule hope he had of fitting in and laying low for the evening, just for long enough to enjoy what he'd come here for.
But he only gets to wonder for a second, and then he's distracted as Phil turns, heads back to the dimly-lit bar Dan can just make out on the other side of the club. Because he isn't looking, Dan lets himself stare at the smooth dark wings arching up from Phil's back - a perfect match for his black hair - then at the curve of his shoulders, the curve of his ass, and all Dan's nervous thoughts turn to hopes that his waiter might also be part of the show tonight.
