:Stitches's point of view:

I was partying happily with my gal pals, just dancing in my six-inch heels and being the gay king that I am. And the drinks came out.

I thought back to what Dad and Pops had grilled into all of us, Dad's icy tone seeping back into my mind.

"Don't accept drinks from strangers and don't drink unless one of your family is at the party and completely sober." Dad had said angrily, yet only wanting what was best for all of us. He knew what happens when you get drunk. It's either you're puking all of the next day or you're having nonconsensual sex with some rando who smells like sweat and rancid eggs and then puking.

I brushed it off, my teenage boy brain going "eh. How bad is it really?" I accepted a drink, taking an experimental sip. It was strong, but I liked it a little. I drank it as one of my girls started grinding on me. I shrugged again and "ground" back, not even making contact with her, just doing the movement.

I accepted another drink. I danced.

And another drink. More dancing.

And another drink. Getting foggier, but I remember kissing a guy.

Another drink. Blacking out.

I remember stumbling to one of my friends' cars with two of my friends. We got out on the highway, heading to a McDonald's or something. I fell asleep in the car.

-----

I woke up to a yellowy sunshine, which I found odd. Sunshine in Hell isn't yellow? I sat up, squinting around at my surroundings. I heard street music and smelled food that Dad would cook. It was a little cold, but otherwise very sunny. I stood up after taking off my heels and I made my way to the bakery and coffee shop to do my best to ask directions after using a little bit of my own magic to sober up. A hawt black-skinned man with pale blue hair was chilling at the counter, reading the paper.

"Hello, um, where exactly am I?" I asked politely, admiring that sharp jaw of his and those pretty galaxy eyes.

"The heart of New Orleans, dahlin'. You look like you got hit by a truck. The restroom is back that way if you want to freshen up. What do you wanna eat, it's on the house." He asked, standing up straight and gesturing to the glass case full of pastries and baked goods.

"A beignet would be great, thanks." I replied. He got out a beignet and got me an iced coffee with a pleasant smile. I stared at the coffee.

"How did you-"

"Know you were gay? Honey, your crop top screams it and you're carrying a pair of six-inch rainbow platform heels. Plus, I'm a queer myself. Enjoy!" The barista chuckled. I took my pastry and the coffee and sat down at the bar on the side of the counter so the barista could serve the next customer in line. I ate in silence, checking how much battery my phone had. It was almost dead.

"Fuuuuck. Fuck fuck fuck." I said as I looked at how many missed calls and missed texts I had from both parents. I sent one text to both of them with what I had left of my battery.

Me: I'm still alive and I'm safe right now. XOXO

My screen went dark and I hoped with all of my being that the text would get to them. I put it down with a heavy sigh and I munched on my beignet sadly.

The barista approached me and tugged lightly on my antler which was almost at full size for the year, signifying that my annual rut was coming up and I was going to be very very horny. It is almost spring after all.

"Hey! Don't." I said, batting his hand away.

"Are you, by chance, from Hell?" The barista asked with an amused smile.

"How could you tell?" I asked sarcastically as I gestured to my eight eyes, my pointed ears, and the antlers he just pulled on with my black-clawed hand.

"Just a hunch. I'm Prince, by the way." He introduced himself.

"I'm Stitches." I replied. Prince continued to stare at my antlers, pondering some things. I went invisible for a moment, causing him to startle. "Stoppit. You don't get to touch my antlers again."

"N-no, I wasn't thinking about that. I was thinking about something else. I have a question."

"And I might not have an answer, what do you want?"

"I'm just curious. Do you know about the demon who lives on 13th street, the one who visits the graveyard and has brilliant red hair until he realizes someone is watching him?" Prince asked.

"Yeah."

"Who is he?"

"Mah dad."

"Really?"

"Does he walk a wide circle around a heavily-graffitied grave every time he's at said graveyard?"

"Yeah."

"That'd be my dad and the graffitied grave he avoids is his own grave."

"Huh. Cool."

I sipped my coffee with a sigh. Prince was clearly admiring my appearance, though I couldn't tell why, but he was enjoying himself.

This is it. This is the start of my coffeeshop AU. Not that I mind. I'd be fine going out with this hot barista.