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Chapter Text

You weren't sure why you were surprised, honestly. You'd heard enough rumors about the Undervale Hotel to understand that you might come across something freaky while staying the night, and booked a room anyway. Freaky can't beat the insanely cheap rates.

Granted, your car had broken down just outside the property line and was stuck in the shop for the next three days so you didn't have much choice, but still; a short, three-foot-nothing boy who looks like he walked off the set of a Salem reenactment site crawling out of the vent in your wall was not something you'd planned on coming across.

He landed on your mattress with a soft fwump and bounced a little, sending your brush and hair clips flying. You yelped, more startled than afraid, and stared wide-eyed at the boy as he sat up and stared at you with the brightest blues you've ever seen.

"Can I help you!?" You blurted.

"Yes," he said, completely deadpan. "You can tell me what that exquisite smell is emanating from your head."

Oh, and he talked the part of an old-timey witch kid, too. You were half-concerned he was going to accuse you of attending the devil's sacrament at the end of this conversation. His method acting was insane.

You turned to the nightstand next to your bed and held up the bottle of heat protectant spray you'd just finished applying to your hair, shaking it gently. It did smell nice. It was coconut and vanilla.

"Adorn me."

You blinked. "What?"

He crawled towards you, eyes locked on the bottle. "I said adorn me, mortal! Drench me in the fumes of delight so that I may lure unsuspecting victims into my many nefarious traps, and make them reach the Girl Scout cookies in the cabinet for me!"

Damn. This kid was fucking adorable.

"I could," you said, "but it won't last long. You use this to protect your hair from getting damaged when you treat it with a blow dryer or curling rod."

The child stared at you with a visible lack of comprehension. You stared back. He blinked asynchronously. You sighed, resigned to some impromptu babysitting. You reminded yourself that the room is incredibly cheap and swallowed down your irritation.

"If you want the smell to last, I have to style your hair with hot tools."

"Do they burn and scald like Hell?"

"They certainly can."

The boy grinned. His eyes briefly flashed red!? That was some pretty freaky shit, to be honest.

"Very well. I will submit to this hair styling process in order to execute my masterful plan. Tell me how to proceed, mortal."

"Not my name," you said, scooting up until your back met the headboard, and patted the space between your legs. "Go pick up my brush and hair clips, then c'mere."

The boy skittered off your bed with surprising speed, gathering your items and depositing them with way more pride than the situation warranted. He sat down and faced you with the same wide grin, until you helped him turn around. Then, you gently ran your hands through his hair to get a sense of the thickness and texture.

"Damn, when's the last time you combed this rat's nest?" You blurted, coming across knots, matting, and that looked like the beginning of an actual nest.

"What's a comb?" The boy asked.

You closed your eyes and counted backwards from ten, taking deep breaths.

--

Abaddon, whose name you learned after accidentally getting shampoo in his eyes because he refused to close his eyes while you washed his hair, did not sit well for you. He squirmed, he turned his head any which-way, he complained, and then the aforementioned shampoo incident happened and he threatened to curse your entire bloodline for all eternity.

Eventually, though, you got him back on the bed with clean hair, the heat protectant he was obsessed with, and a blow dryer. He was easy to keep busy, you found out, when you queued up some Minecraft let's-plays on YouTube for him on your cellphone.

"Cobblestone is a horrible choice in architecture," Abaddon growled into the screen as you worked, "the obsidian blocks look much more intimidating."

"I don't think the player is going for style," you said, spraying more protectant on his head. He shivered a little as you did it. "I think he just needs a base so monsters don't attack him at night."

"This man is hiding like a coward. He should slay his enemies and use their blood to paint the walls! That's what I did when I had a castle."

"Pretty sure that's not a game feature."

"It should be."

Combing everything out took a while, but the payoff was more than worth it. What originally looked like dusty black, shoulder-length hair turned into silky, shiny locks that brushed against his tailbone. You detangled what must have been years of shed and breakage, leaving behind the glossiest, thickest head of hair you've ever seen on a little pilgrim boy. He even let you trim the split ends and shape up his bangs, which softened his face and made him look much cuter. If only he'd ditch the 18th century garb...

"Okay, kid," you said, sitting back with a grunt. Your back was twingy from being hunched over him for several hours, and when you glanced at the time on your phone it was well into the middle of the night. Good thing you didn't have much going on until you could get back on the road. "Hair looks great. It's shiny and smells just like coconuts and vanilla, like you wanted."

"Excellent." Abaddon pulled a few strands over his shoulder and admired the way it looked. He brought it up to his nose and sniffed a few times, smiling in delight. "Yes...you've done well, mortal."

"Still not my name."

"I won't forget this favor you've done me. Whenever you have enemies in need of torturing, or a small hole your body cannot fit into, you may call upon Abaddon, Prince of Darkness, Gatekeeper of the underworld, herald of —"

"Thank you," you said quickly, before he could launch into yet another rant about all his hellish titles. "I'm gonna go to bed, now. So."

Abaddon remained sitting between your legs, Minecraft video continuing to run on your phone as he stared blankly up at you.

"I should really get some sleep," you tried again. The boy continued staring at you, unmoving and seemingly uncaring. "Abaddon..."

"You remembered," he murmured, awed by your short-term memory.

"You're gonna have to move so I can lay down," you sighed.

"Yes, I suppose," he said, "but there is still the matter of the cookies from the lady scouts. As it is so late in the night, there are few souls awake to recruit for my mission."

You stared at him, unamused. He stared right back, a slow smirk crawling up his face.

"I will owe you two favors if you perform this final ask of mine. That's more than any mortal has ever earned. Take a moment to relish in your personal successes before we embark to the pantry."

"Mm," you hummed, "no. I already did your hair, I don't feel like leaving my room too."

Abaddon pouted. It was adorable, especially with his newly-styled hair. Dammit!

"My hunger is immense and can only be satiated by Do Si Dos."

"Tough. It's a little late for a snack anyway. You should wait 'till morning."

"My inner organs growl with need!"

"I'm sure there's a fruit bowl somewhere in your reach."

The boy huffed, clenching his little fists in his lap.

"I want cookies," he demanded, eyes flaring red again in time with his temper. "Now!"

"No."

"Now!"

"No."

"Now!"

"No!"

--

You opened up the cabinet and plucked out a box of cookies, passing it to Abaddon's eager fingers. He immediately ripped the top of the box open and crammed a fistful in his mouth, giggling with utter delight. Crumbs were getting everywhere.

It was, unfortunately, fucking adorable.

"Can I go to bed now?" You whispered in the darkness of the room. The kitchen tiling was uncomfortably cold under your bare feet and you just wanted to curl up under the covers and pass out. You'd be dragging ass in the morning for sure.

The boy nodded, smiling up at you with bulging cheeks and cookie pieces everywhere.

"I am in your debt," he said, but with his mouth full it really sounded like ah ahn ih our ett.

"You can pay me back by taking better care of your hair," you said, stepping past him to go back to your room. "Goodnight, Abaddon."

"Ood igh!"

"And don't talk with your mouth full."

Chapter Text

"Abaddon, did you get a perm?"

"A perm curls your hair, mom," Ben chirped helpfully over breakfast, "and his is straight! He got what I'm pretty sure is called a silk press, and it looks fabulous, my fiendish friend!"

Abaddon preened from his seat at the kitchen table, flicking some hair over his shoulder. It was very soft and still smelled nice, even after a quick trip through the chimney to grab the human skull he'd stashed up there.

"I didn't know your hair was so long, bud!" Nathan grinned, floating through the wall to come admire it more closely.

"I didn't know it was black," Esther pointed out over her plate of eggs and toast, "must have been all the dirt caked into it that turned it brown."

"There was never any cake in my hair," Abaddon hissed, pointing his cereal spoon at her and sending droplets of milk flying across the table. A few hit her cheek and she giggled. "Do not spew such slander again!"

"Sure, whatever." Esther crammed the remainder of her breakfast in her mouth and hopped down, giving Katherine a quick hug goodbye. "See you after school! Do something different with your hair by the time we get back!"

"Or don't," Ben hurriedly interjected, rising with his backpack to follow after his sister. He gave Abaddon a pair of finger guns, which meant far too many different things for him to bother understanding. "It's your body, your choice, Abaddon! Or — well, your borrowed body? I guess it's not borrowed if you're stuck in it, so yeah! Your body! Do whatever feels most natural to you, and you shouldn't let peer pressure —"

"Go catch the bus, Ben," Katherine sighed, shooing him out of the kitchen. She turned to the little demon and looked him up and down with obvious suspicion, which was rude, because Abaddon hadn't even put quarters in her mouth last night. He'd lost track of time after getting his hair done. "You."

"Me," he said around a mouthful of fruit loops.

"Why."

"What."

Katherine narrowed her eyes. "Abaddon."

"Katherine," he replied, now confused. What was this strange, one-worded game? Was he winning? He'd better be.

"How did your hair get like that?" She clarified. Okay, not a game then. He definitely would've won if it were.

"A lady tortured me with soap and water in the night, then applied a sweet smelling potion, heat, and a device called a "comb" to my hair until it turned out like this." He brought the bowl of leftover cereal milk to his mouth and slurped it down, finished with his morning meal. "Do not be afraid. I forced her to do it for the sake of the sweet potion."

"You bothered somebody into doing your hair?" Katherine groaned. "Abaddon, stop sneaking into town at night! You're terrorizing potential guests!"

"I did not leave the grounds," Abaddon huffed. "The potion was here."

"Then you bothered our only guest!? Abaddon!"

"Katherine!" He echoed again. Was this truly a game after all? He watched her white-knuckle the dishes she'd been putting in the sink, then storm out of the kitchen muttering about how she'd have to comp your stay for being harassed. Abaddon turned to Nathan, who remained examining him with a meek smile.

"I can see her point about you bothering guests," he said, "but your hair really does look fantastic."

"I know," Abaddon smiled smugly. "Now my vessel appears more endearing, which increases my powers of manipulation ten-fold!"

"Concerning, but true!"

--

"Oh," you chuckled, waving Katherine's concern away, "you don't need to do that. He kept me awake a while, sure, but I would've been up anyway doing my own hair, y'know? He's just a weird kid."

Katherine looked at you like you hung the moon and stars in the sky. Poor gal probably handed out more refunds than proper stays if you had to take a guess. She looked between you and the money she tried giving back with obvious befuddlement.

"I would do anything for you," she muttered.

"What?"

"I said thank you so much for your patience!" She put the cash back in the register and closed it with a huge grin. "You can let me know if Abaddon bothers you again. I promise you don't have to put up with him, he's mostly harmless even if he threatens to maim you."

You shrugged. "Like I said, I was awake anyway. Maybe if he comes back around I can do something about his fuckass eyebrows next."

"My eyebrows have never fucked anything," Abaddon blurted, standing right behind you. Both you and Katherine startled and turned to face him. He was standing on the couch in the middle of the lobby, frowning at you in confusion and gently running a hand over his brows.

"Abaddon, language!" Katherine scolded. "And it was just an expression."

"Is it a negative expression?" He asked.

"Yeah," you admitted, "it means those caterpillars on your face look ridiculous."

"There are bugs on my face!?" He yelped, rubbing it furiously with both hands now. You approached him and gently grabbed his hands.

"No, that was just a mean joke. Sorry, man." He calmed down and glared at you. It was undermined by his newly-styled bangs fluttering a little over his eyes. "Your eyebrows are ruining the look, though. I did mean that. Do I get a third favor if you let me thread 'em?"

His glare softened into something contemplative. He nodded.

"I suppose that is amenable. What must I do?"

You smiled.

--

"THIS IS ACTUAL TORTURE. WORSE THAN THE SHAMPOO IN MY EYES BY FAR."

"First of all, that wouldn't have happened if you kept your eyes closed like I told you to. Second of all, if you can stay still, I can be done way faster."

"YOU ARE PLUCKING THE VERY ATOMS CONSTITUTING MY FACE WITH YOUR DEADLY STRING. RELEASE ME!"

"You can sit up and walk away any time."

"..."

"..."

"...the stinging reminds me of Hell a little bit actually. It's pretty nostalgic."

"Then can I finish?"

"I suppose. May I continue to thrash and cry out?"

"...I suppose."

"Thank you. OOOUGH OUCH AHHH MY FACE —"

--

Abaddon studied himself in the mirror and had to admit that you were right. With neatly trimmed eyebrows, it really softened up his whole face. Even more than his hair did.

"You are a cosmetic witch," he declared, spinning around to face you. You stared back, amused. "What wordless spells did you study to perform these feats?"

"It kinda feels like magic, huh?" You smiled. "S'just a lot of practice. Anybody can do it."

"Even me?" He gasped, eyes wide and round. Fuck, you forgot how adorable he was when he did that. This little demon boy could conquer the world if only he acted like a real kid.

"Yeah, pal. Even you."

"Instruct me at once!"

Oh. That may be more effort than you had the patience for, and you could put up with quite a lot.

"Can I show you how to look up tutorials instead?" You asked.

"I can't read or use a computer."

Concerning. You supposed demons had other priorities besides basic literacy, but that somehow felt more like an Abaddon thing than a demon thing. "Can I tell your guardian what tutorials to look up on your behalf?"

He pouted. It was lethally cute. You almost caved.

"Okay," he eventually said. "Your services have been most useful. I am in your debt. Call upon me when your darkest deeds need performed and Abaddon, high prince of the Black Realm, will answer!"

You watched him run to the vent cover in your room and called out to him before he could yank it open and crawl inside.

"Hey, every time you do that it messes up your hairdo by the way. You should cover it before you zip around in there."

Abaddon froze, one arm and half of his head in the vent. He slowly extracted himself with a frown.

"Cover it with what?"

--

When Esther and Ben got back from school, the former immediately laughed so hard she cried at the sight of Abaddon in a baby blue bonnet. Katherine snapped a couple pictures and Nathan cooed over how cute he looked.

"I'm so proud," Ben sniffled, kneeling beside the demon and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Self care looks so good on you, buddy."

Despite his embarrassment over being coddled and gushed over, Abaddon smiled at that.

"Yes," he said, puffing out his chest, "it does. Now, someone fetch me a yogurt!"

And to his infinite surprise, it worked. No one made him say please and thank you. No one scolded him for his attitude. No one told him he couldn't have yogurt before dinner or it would spoil his appetite. He just got a container and a spoon.

He stared at his treat in bafflement, grinning wide. What magical results. You were indeed a witch, despite your humility.

He needed you to stick around.