The kitchen of the Hazbin Hotel was rarely quiet, but tonight it felt alive.
Steam curled toward the ceiling, carrying a rich, savory scent that didn't quite belong in Hell. Pots rattled softly on the stove, knives thudded rhythmically against cutting boards, and the faint crackle of infernal burners filled the background like white noise.
Max stood at the central counter, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration as he chopped through a pile of vaguely recognizable hell-vegetables.
"Man," he muttered to himself, sniffing one suspiciously. "It's hard enough cooking with Earth ingredients. Doing it with Hell-grown produce is basically culinary roulette."
One of the vegetables hissed faintly when sliced.
"That one's normal," came Vaggie's voice from beside him.
Max glanced over. She'd appeared sometime in the last minute, already wearing an apron and holding a knife like it was an extension of her arm.
"You need help?" she asked. "You're feeding more people than usual tonight. And thank Lucifer I stocked up for Bee earlier—because I am definitely running low on funds."
Before Max could answer, she was already working.
Her knife flashed with uncanny speed, cutting hell-beef and potatoes into perfectly even chunks, each piece uniform as if measured by machine rather than hand. The precision was impressive—and slightly terrifying.
"…Yeah," Max said after a beat. "Thanks, Vaggie. I'll pay you back. Found some gold topside using my ability. Should still be worth something down here."
She snorted. "Don't worry about it. I'd sell my soul again just to eat something that doesn't taste like ash or regret."
Max smiled and seasoned the stew generously, pulling herbs and spices from shadow storage—Earth-grown, fragrant, and almost alien in Hell's air. As he leaned past her to reach the pot, he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek.
"Seriously. Thanks."
Vaggie froze for half a second, then waved it off, cheeks faintly pink. "Just don't burn it."
---
By the time dinner was ready, the smell had spread through the hotel like wildfire.
Alastor was already seated, radio smile wide as he lifted a bowl and inhaled deeply. "My, my. I never thought I'd miss Earth cuisine, but this aroma is positively nostalgic."
"Did what I could," Max said, ladling stew into bowls. "Hell ingredients, Earth seasoning. Also—I may have gone overboard with the spices."
"That explains why my eyes are watering," Husk muttered, already halfway through his bowl.
Bee hovered impatiently nearby, arms crossed. "Uh. Hello? I am starving."
"Bee," Max said flatly, "you are always starving. A normal bowl wouldn't survive you."
He snapped his fingers.
From the shadows behind Bee, a massive pot of stew emerged—still steaming, still bubbling. He set it down in front of her with a thunk.
Her eyes lit up.
"Oh hell yes."
She dove in immediately, eating with zero restraint. Angel watched her for a moment before shoveling stew into his mouth.
"Hot damn," Angel said around a mouthful. "This is incredible. Like… actually incredible. Like sex in my mouth."
"That's because Vaggie helped," Max said, glancing her way.
The table filled quickly: Charlie, Octavia, Husk, Vaggie, Niffty, Sir Pentious, Alastor—all eating, all talking at once. Even Pentious paused mid-rant to compliment the stew. Niffty nearly choked from eating too fast and had to be revived—again.
Max lingered at the edge, watching the scene with quiet satisfaction before heading back into the kitchen to clean up.
---
A little later, Vaggie joined him, stacking dishes and filling the sink with hot, soapy water.
The noise downstairs softened into distant chatter.
"So," she said casually, scrubbing a plate. "You busy tomorrow?"
Max rinsed a pot. "Maybe. I was thinking of touching base with the other Overlords. Build some credibility. Why—asking me on a date?"
She smacked his arm with a wet towel. "No. We're having a girls' day. Just checking you won't be bored out of your mind."
He grinned. "Enjoy it. Spa day in Lust?"
She paused mid-dish. "How did you—"
"Octavia was browsing packages on her phone," Max said. "And I would've suggested it anyway. Still a little nervous you're all going without me… but Ozzie promised to keep things professional."
Vaggie studied him, then leaned in and kissed him—quick, firm, reassuring.
"Relax," she said softly. "Nothing's going to happen. I promise. Just… try not to get into trouble yourself."
"No guarantees," he replied, smiling.
---
Hours later, the hotel finally settled.
Max showered, changed into soft silk pajamas, and collapsed onto his bed with a sigh.
"Nice day," he murmured, closing his eyes.
Seconds later—plop.
Something warm and soft landed on his chest.
He blinked, finding Bee sprawled across him in what could generously be described as party-girl pajamas.
"Hey," he said, amused. "Sleeping here tonight?"
She kissed him without hesitation and curled closer. "Yep. Gonna be a regular thing."
Moments later, the bed shifted again—Charlie, Vaggie, and Octavia joining in, finding whatever space they could atop or beside him.
Max stared at the ceiling, arms full, tail flicking contentedly.
"…I think I need a bed upgrade," he said.
They laughed quietly, voices overlapping, the warmth of shared presence filling the room.
Soon enough, conversation faded into soft breathing.
And for once, Hell felt full—not of noise or chaos, but of something close to peace.