demonbelthazor | Hyperion, Saturday Night

Current Mood: drunk

Entry tags:

anders,
bridge,
chris,
demons are big babies when they're sick,
giant frakking q,
hyperion,
isabel,
parker,
phoebe,
phone call,
veronica,
xander

Hyperion, Saturday Night

Bel didn't get sick often, especially since he picked up the nifty insta-healing powers in the Wastelands. But there were a few things that could still knock him off his feet, such as, unfortunately, the common cold. And said cold turned Bel into a whiny, cranky, miserable patient indeed.

Phoebe had gone to the store to buy a bottle of medicine for him. It was the most vile thing he had ever tasted, and living in the Underworld, he had tasted a lot of vile things. But he began to feel a little better, so he figured that more of a good thing was a better thing and chugged the whole bottle.

This could prove to be a biiiiig mistake.

Especially because his cell phone was in easy reach.

[For returned phone calls (hee) and Hyperion inhabitants, and brought to you by the fact that I am sick as a dog and high on NyQuil. NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you, you giant frakking Q!]

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The door creaked open, and Bel called out, "Is it green and tastes like ass?"

"No, sweetie, it's homemade chicken noodle," she said, stepping through the door. "Are you feeling any better?"

"The furniture is singing to me," Bel said. He was crouched on the bed, glaring at the bedside table.

"Oh, really?" Veronica said, setting the tray on the offending table. "Anything good?"

"NO DON'T!" Bel yelped. "It'll get the soup -- too late. Can't you hear it? It can't get no satisfaction. It can't get no girly action."

"I'll protect the soup," Veronica promised. "And what kind of satisfaction is the table looking for? I mean, doesn't it get enough of a show with you and Phoebe and Anders?"

"I don't know, you ask it!" Bel said. "I am not gonna learn how to satisfy furniture. That's sick and wrong."

Veronica paused for a moment, trying very hard not to laugh at the stoned demon.

"It says that it would be satisfied if you ate some soup."

It was worth a try.

"I want ice cream," Bel wibbled.

"Eat some soup first," Veronica said. "Then I'll bring you some ice cream."

Or make someone else do it.

"Ice cream," Bel said dreamily. "And when I get it, the first thing I'm gonna do is smear it all over my body."

"Sounds... sticky. And cold. I'll have Phoebe or Anders bring that up," Veronica said.

Bel flopped on the bed. "No wonder you're upset," he said, waving a hand about. "She's lovely. And a darling figure ... supple, pouting breasts ... firm thighs."

"Uh, thanks."

Veronica had no idea if he was talking about her or just... rambling. "Now, how about some soup?"

Instead of answering the question, Bel tied a sheet around his neck. "I'm Superbel!" he said, jumping off the bed. Except the other end of the sheet was still tucked into the bed, so he ended up flopping to the floor. "Oh, hello, floor," he said. "How are you?"

That did it. Veronica burst into laughter. And really, really wished she had a camera.

"Bel? Are you okay?"

"This is the floor," Bel said, patting it. "Floor, this is Veronica. She's nice. Don't bite her."

Veronica realized that she had her phone in her pocket. And her phone had a camera.

*click*

Maybe she wasn't so nice. "Do you need help getting up from the floor?"

Bel pushed himself up a little. Then fell back to the floor. "Gravity check," he said. "Still works."

"I'm sure that Isaac Newton will be thrilled to hear that," Veronica said, slipping her phone back in her pocket and offering Bel a hand.

"I'm comfy," he protested. "The floor is my friend. The floor loves me."

"Well, I'm glad someone does," Veronica said. "I'll leave the soup in case you want some later."

"Okaaaaaaay," Bel said. "You're nice."

If he found out about the picture she took, he probably wouldn't say that.

"Get some rest, Bel."

"Okay, bye bye nice lady." Bel passed out, for a little while at least.

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Hyperion, Saturday Night

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