Chapter Text
Shane's never really done this whole “human” thing before.
For example, he’s just moved into his new apartment in Los Angeles, and he does not know how to unpack boxes. Everything is too stale, and too sterile, and too alien. The light of dawn pierces his eyes. Shane blinks and squints. He misses Hell.
Living on Earth has been Not Good. Before beginning to live amongst humanity, being allegorical for a long time had been enjoyable. Hiding his true form had never been an issue. He never had to be hyper-conscious of himself, but now he has to out of necessity. As a demon of old, he was supposed to keep his identity under wraps. Humans just are to know as little as possible about what is beyond their realm, and they would probably go insane if they saw his true form. And he doesn’t want to be subjected to an exorcism or something akin to the Salem Witch Trials. His poor witch friends.
Shane stumbles around in his house. The floor is too hollow. The walls feel fragile. Everything around him is too clean. Without his wings, everything feels off. He has to get used to being bipedal. Behold, a man. He has to identify as a man.
Stretching this glamour over his true demonic form makes him feel like a balloon about to burst. He's always tense, on the lookout for something that escapes, for some demonic trait that will inevitably leak to the surface -- the dim outline of horns or the shadow of a tail -- but he never expects his scent to be the first thing he has to worry about.
Until his fellow intern points it out.
It happens on the first day on his new job at Buzzfeed. He's supposed to be working on an algorithm for some project for the distribution tools team. He's been put in a group with a vaguely familiar intern, a face he's only caught a glimpse of during the orientation programme. The two of them settle down into adjacent seats. Shane is looking down at his open keyboard, but he can feel his teammate's awkward gaze pinned to him, can almost taste the nervous energy radiating off him.
“Hello, I’m Ryan.”
“That’s great.” Shane twiddles his fingers absentmindedly.
Ryan looks quizzically at him. Realising his blunder, Shane splutters a bit and says, “I’m Shane.”
They awkwardly divert their gazes back to their computers, and a good hour passes with Shane trying to grapple with human social media.
When Shane is getting his tea in the break room, Ryan comes in to get coffee. Ryan comments, “You’re really tall.”
“Why thank you, I grew this myself.” He did not, but who was to know.
Shane observes Ryan’s demeanour. During the brief stint of humanity that he has experienced (a full week), he had learned to determine more subtle expressions and intentions, such as if one had to pee. Or if one was in need of sexual gratification. He can sense what humans feel in a vague way, but not the details of their mental states. In an attempt to dissect Ryan’s intent, Shane notices that Ryan indeed looks mildly uncomfortable standing in close proximity to him. But why?
“What’s wrong?” Shane furrows his brows.
“Do you smell fire?” Ryan looks around the office.
“What?” Shane says.
“Something smells burnt.”
“I don’t think they’re burning anything.” Did they burn things here at Buzzfeed?
“Buzzfeed is weird, dude.”
Ryan’s voice tapers off, and he looks awkwardly towards the floor. Shane’s mind starts to wander before Ryan interjects, “Have you been at a barbecue recently?”
Shane does not know what a barbecue is.
“No.”
“Have you showered recently?”
“What?”
“Showered. Like, go into a bathroom, get water, and clean yourself?”
In a fit of nervous improvisation, Shane replies, “Oh, hum, I remember that that is on my to-do list but I never got around to it.”
Ryan’s eyes crinkle up around their edges, and he bends over, wheezing. Shane almost smells Ryan’s amusement. “Ryan, are you dying?” His lungs do an odd thing.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ryan gasps a little and replies, “No, I’m alright. But please take a shower soon, you smell like adolescent goat sweat.”
After work that day, Shane goes to the supermarket for deodorant.
It’s not that he means to stink of adolescent goat sweat, like how Ryan described it. He makes a mental note to wash his clothing. He has had showers like how any decent, privileged human being should. He’s done almost everything to a T. It’s just a little… species-specific side-effect, that makes him smell like a laboratory on fire, rotten eggs, brimstone and somebody’s dog shit being roasted.
Suffice to say, Shane is Not Having A Good Time on Earth. Like how Oscar Wilde described it.
He stands in the middle of the aisle, staring down the shelves, a little lost for choice. AXE. Gilette. Old Spice. Which one is the most effective? Slowly, with utmost care, he taps on his new cell phone and starts researching this new issue.
“Hey, Shane.”
At the sight of Ryan at the end of the once-empty aisle, he nearly vomits. Humanity is difficult.
“Yes, yes. Hello Ryan.”
“Are you okay dude? You look skittish.”
“I’m alright.”
Okay, you can do this, just ask, nothing will go wrong, nice human, good human -
“Hey, uh, could you help me with something? Which di. Deh. Diodarent? Is the strongest?”
Ryan looks at him oddly, eyes narrowing, bewilderment settling over his features before he quickly schools his face back into careful neutrality. Shane can feel the awkward confusion radiating off him. Ah. That was probably a strange question to ask. It’s not like Shane would know anything about social norms, but he’s trying.
Evidently, he’s failing. Shane flounders for a bit. Shit. Just as he had wanted to impress the guy.
Ryan points at a green container and Shane nabs it. He takes three more, for good measure, just to be safe. Dumping them in his cart, he smiles (more like grimaces but it’s the thought that counts), waves, and skedaddles. He feels like his fingers are on fire.
Speed Stick deodorant? What the hell is Speed Stick?