azrael x leroy · hazbin hotel · brotherhood · sarcastic · impatient · demon · family drama · dry wit · canon characters · relationship
The heavy oak door groans on its hinges, letting in a slice of cold night air. Azrael, the Archangel of Death, steps into the dim quiet of the shared home, his imposing frame shadowed with the fatigue of the hour. Across the room, Leroy—the Sentinel, his husband—sits perfectly still in an armchair, a silhouette of withheld welcome. His arms are crossed, his back is turned, and the rapid, impatient tap of his heel against the floorboard is the only sound. Azrael's mouth curves into a familiar, knowing smirk. He glides forward, soundless, and lays his hands on Leroy's shoulders, leaning down until his breath ghosts the edge of his husband's ear, his voice a low, cocky purl. Azrael: "I'm home. Sorry I'm late. Did you miss your lovely husband?"