I woke up curled around a warmth, right hand and arm restricted by something. I tugged for a moment, legs curling further around the warmth as my hand pressed deeper into the warmth, having released itself from the odd tangle. I pressed myself as closely as I could, a small whine coming from the back of my throat as I wasn't close enough, despite being as physically close as I possibly could be. An arm wrapped around me and pulled me just slightly closer, and I relaxed, finally close enough. I drifted back to sleep.

... Wait. What?

I jerked awake, eyes opening, and saw nothing. There wasn't anything next to me, and I was holding a blanket, which is probably what my arm had been tangled in. Glancing back, I saw the blanket was precariously wrapped around me, and indeed had a corner fallen around where it would have had it been draped over my side. I took a deep breath. Oh. A dream. Great. That didn't terrify me, or anything. I paused, then groaned.

"Ugh, that was such a nice dreeamm thooougghh," I dragged out, whining at the ceiling, "I was so comfortable..."

The only response was my alarm, and I sighed as I stood up with a stretch and a groan. "Ugh. These new hours are killing me. I mean. Sure, they just started, but mmhnn, you know?"

"Stop talking to yourself!" My brother shouted at me.

"Fuck off and go to bed!" I yelled back, before opening the fridge and downing an apple monster energy drink.

I went into the shower, cleaned myself and brushed my teeth at the same time, because efficiency, and stumbled out of the shower seven minutes later. I then opened a Dr. Pepper and downed that in between putting on whatever clothes reached my hands, knowing that anything I owned would be fine, because I only owned clothes that I liked and that felt nice to wear, like baggy t-shirts, sparkly-asspocket jeans that were both comfortable, had big pockets, and were sparkly in a non-aggressive way and just hoodies in general.

Before I really came-to, I was downing a large sugary-coffee that was hot and scalded my tongue as the phone rang. I waited for him to answer.

"What's up?" The new Head Janitor answered, and I paused, caught off guard.

"Er, right. Was there anything else past seven that Mike's notes held? And what about the uh, people, or whatever?" I asked, downing the rest of my coffee while he remained silent for a moment.

"Uh, yeah, it's all really weird-"

"Just tell me."

"Right... Don't touch the chairs-"

"Because?"

"A monster appears, apparently. Look, I want to get to sleep-"

"And I don't want to die because I missed out on crucial information. This is night eight, and I literally almost died twice in the past two days from this stupid fucking job. Answer."

"..." The Head Janitor sighed, "I don't know. I can't remember. Just don't touch the chairs, and there was something about counting the corners? Increased activity if it’s the same person? Whatever. Ghost’s aren’t real, anyway. Night. Dick."

"Enjoy your beauty sleep, fucker, you need it," I immediately returned, waiting until I heard the click to look at my phone. I was two minutes late. Whatever.

Taking my iced Sugar-Caffeine-Espresso heart attack with me, I stroll into the school. Immediately the shadow man appeared in a corner, and when I opened the janitors' closet he appeared in that corner too. Ignoring it, but keeping track, I went about cleaning the school, deciding to do it quickly even as I sang. Everything except the chairs sparkling three hours later, every corner where it was supposed to be, I stood in the entryway and waited. I couldn't sit on a chair, nor could I sit in a corner because the shadow man was in any corner I even tried to glance at. The lights went out, and I closed my eyes, only for one light to remain on.

Ignoring the girls' claws brushing against me and scratching at me, I stared at the almost holy view of the mens' locker room, the showers going on and the warm humming that came from the incubus relaxing any stress I may have had. When I was fully relaxed, I realized I had a lot of stress. It was nice, that it was gone. Eyes glazing as I just listened, vision full of the fluffy white mist rolling out of the room, I don't even notice when all the other lights come back on, or when the scratches and touches stopped.

"Why don't you join me?" He asked.

I took a few steps forward, almost at the entrance of the locker-room before pausing. No. It was men's, I was a chick. I couldn't go in there.

"It's just me, don't worry," His soothing baritone comforted me, and my mind flitted back to the comforting dream from this morning.

He'd hold me, wouldn't he?

I took another step forward, before pausing, and backpedaling rapidly. What the hell was I thinking? I still had coffee! That would have been a mistake. Iced coffee in a warm shower? Downing the coffee, I threw it into a trashcan and turned to stride into the comforting embrace of the shower-man, but my path was blocked by the chatty ghost.

/"You're mine, you know that?"/ The memory flitted through my mind momentarily, but I was a bit distracted. I /needed/ to join the incubus. He'd make sure everything was okay. I tried moving around him, but he stepped in my way again.

My alarm went off, and I was jolted out of my trace. I scowled, before pulling my phone out and turning the forth hour alarm off. Fucking incubi, feeding off /any strong emotion/. I need a fucking boyfriend if simple fucking comfort was enough for me to become entranced. Seriously?

Glancing around, I saw that the hallways were just as spotless as they usually were, which made sense, since the chatty ghost and the incubus were both in the entryway, which is typically what needed to be re-cleaned anyway.

"The sun will be up soon anyway," I mused to myself as I spun on my heel and stalked to the now-re-glassed doors.

They didn't open. I tried feebly to unlock them with a set of keys, but they still didn't open.

"Is your shirt supposed to claim that I'm sexy, or that you're me?" The chatty ghost asked from directly behind me, and I blinked.

Huh? I looked down at my shirt to see "Sexy Devil" scrawled on in white, with horns above the top word. Oh. Right. The ghost that claims to be the Devil, or whatever. Does that mean I can't wear any of my shirts that reference him? I hummed thoughtfully. If I got rid of them all I'd have like four shirts left... Well. Four clean shirts left, and like twenty dirty shirts.

"Oh, fuck, I'd get killed if someone saw me in this," I commented as I turned around, pulling it off and turning it inside out so the text wasn't visible before putting it back on, "Glad I didn't wear the game over one. That'd be awkward /and/ I'd not have made it to the car."

"Why?"

"Well, it says game over and has a dude supposed to be the devil marrying a chick. Also, hey, what did you do with my favorite shirt? I can't find it," I asked. I mean I had to ask eventually. I then saw what he was wearing, the text 'speak of the Devil' black on the grey shirt and gaped, "Hey! You're wearing- okay, that's funny, but that's my shirt! Get your own." My hands reached out, and I tried taking it from him.

"Mm, nah, I think I'll keep it. It's even in my size," He commented happily, not stopping my hands from running up his front but not letting me take the shirt off of him. I dropped my hands when my attempts all failed, before realizing what he said.

My hands spread out, confusion and amusement clashing, "Heheh, what the fuck? Okay. Fuck," I shook my head, still chuckling, "Great. Whatever. Can you let me out now?"

"Sunrise isn't for another hour and a half, though," He complained.

"And? I could use a nap, or maybe more of the iced SCE heart attack I had earlier," I turned and tugged on the door, "Open- the-" Squeaking, I flailed and fell back into the ghost as the door slammed open before gently drifting shut. I grimaced at the new crack in the glass. "Fuck," I whispered, before reaching forward to keep the door open. I fail to reach it, the ghosts' arms wrapping around me to prevent me from escaping.

"I'll fix that if you stay for another hour," He offered, arms dragging me closer and breath shifting the smaller strands of my hair as he rests his chin on my head.

"... Unless the sun rises within that hour, sure, I guess," I muttered, trying to move away, or something, but realizing I was stuck.

After a moment, the sky starts lightening, and he speaks, voice soft and low, like he didn't want to disturb the peace, or like he was threatening someone, "What am I supposed to think, when you turn to me and take off your shirt, which has my name on it?"

"Hhh," I laughed once, silently, "Um, I dunno. I didn't mean anything by it, if that's what you're asking."

"It's not," He murmured flatly, shifting to put his cheek against the top of my head instead of his chin. His arms pull me closer, though if we got any closer than we were one of us would have to sacrifice being able to breathe properly.

"What are you asking, then?" I whispered, more in exasperation and the already limited space to breathe, pressed into him, than anything else.

"Nothing, I'm simply pointing out that you're wearing something that claims you as mine, and have made a move in courting me," He supplied calmly, as if his words didn't give me a heart attack.

I laughed and moved to try and get out of his grip, "Heheheh, woah there, buddy, that's not at all what I was doing, nor what I'm wearing. I do have a shirt that claims me as /with/ you, but I don't wear it, and I didn't mean to wear /this/ shirt. The- the shirt thing was just necessity, had anyone been passing and saw what was on it I'd be deadmeat, okay? I don't- I'm not into old courting rituals or whatever the fuck- just no. Okay? No."

I couldn't get out of his grip at all, but I did struggle long and hard until I gave up.

"... No?" He asked, and shivers ran down my spine at his tone.

"Heh, exactly. No. I'm not wearing something that claims I'm yours, and I haven't made a mmn-" I grimace as I'm slammed into the wall next to the janitors' closet, "-nnot one for rejection, I take it," I finished in a wheeze, trying and failing to pull in enough air.

"You, are a tease," He said simply.

"What?" I breathed out, what little voice I was able to put into the word pitched in the confusion I felt. I struggled against him when his hand wrapped around the bottom of my shirt and lifted, but I couldn't actually touch him, and so I grabbed my shirt and struggled to keep it down, "Hey, stop, what the fuck are you-oomph," I keel over, and he rips my shirt off of me with a flourish that I was too busy being in pain to admire. Who sucker-punches someone in the gut for trying to keep a shirt on? Not fucking cool, bro.

"This is mine now, since you obviously do not appreciate me enough to wear it. Plus, I like seeing my claim."

"What? You- you're not in a rom-com, stop being so superfluous and dramatic," I complained, before my alarm went off. I glanced over to see that the sun was rising above the horizon of suddenly uncracked glass, and glanced at my shirt.

"If you go after the shirt, I'm not letting you out," The devil deadpanned, and I sighed as I slammed out of the school and tried sprinting to my car before anyone saw me.

I failed.

"What the hell?" Gabe, the Head Janitor, asked, and I grimaced, "I know there isn't a dress code-"

"Oh fuck off," I complained as I struggled to open the door of my car, "Why can't you be Mike? He'd have appreciated the /efforts/ I put into /surviving/. He'd even fucking believe me when I said /it was fucking stolen/. But no, no, you're just a judgmental fuck who doesn’t believe in murder-happy assholes!" I slammed the door and sped out of the parking lot with a squeal.

An hour later I reappeared wearing a zipped-up sweatshirt, all clean shirts I owned besides "I'm with the Devil -->" gone, so I just wore none.

Gabe gave me a look, raising his eyebrows, "In a better mood?"

"I will fucking burn you alive, asshole," I growled as I stalked past him to get to the cleaning supplies. The outdoor cleaning was only really required every other day or so.

"I'd like to see you try. What crawled in your ass and died?"

"Every. Fucking. Shirt. I own, is /gone/, all of my bras and underwear are fucking missing or /shredded/, I almost died /many/ times last night, and the moment I escape some /dick/ immediately tries lecturing me on dress code as if I'd /want/ to be wearing the /devil's fucking bra/!"

"It's not that bad, I thought you looked good in it," Gabe commented after a moment of stunned silence.

I grit my teeth, before chuckling and shaking my head, "Sure, whatever, anyway, I had to buy a new bra and underwear, and I'm glad /that/ worked because they were /mysteriously/ out of shirts."

"And you're telling me this... why?"

"Because we're fucking tonight, I thought that was obvious," I said simply, clapping him on the back and moving to clean a window.

"Do I get a say in this, or is this just happening?"

"Are you single?"

"... Yes?"

"Then no, you get absolutely no say in it. We're fucking tonight, or maybe this evening."

"That's rape."

"Please, sir, tell me who the fuck is going to arrest me for forcing you? Besides," I commented, glancing at him, "You'd probably be able to escape, if you /really/ didn't want to fuck."

"No. Not trying to escape, just getting all the facts right," He commented, smirking smugly at me as if he was the one who propositioned me instead of the reverse.

An hour later he reappeared, "So, do you actually hate me, enough to kill me, or is that how you treat everyone?"

"It's been said that I wouldn't know what nice was if it beat me into a pulp, but I particularly dislike you."

"Ooh, angry sex. Kinky."

"... I... Sure. Yeah. That," I agreed.

"So, uh, there won't be any angry exes after me, will there?"

"Literally all of my exes, if any of them are still alive, don't want anything to do with me, and are pre-dystopian era."

"Right. Angry stalkers?"

I thought about it, "If I have any stalkers, I don't know it."

"And that blond guy with red eyes that threatened me with dismemberment if I actually fucked you? What's he?" Gabe finally said, apparently done with the guessing game.

"Oh, the ghost? Yeah, he'll probably find issue with it," I said, and thought about it, "Maybe? I'm not actually sure. He could be threatening you out of spite towards me, I don't really know him all that well. Spoke to him like four or five times."

"Ghost?"

"Well, he claims he's the Devil, Satan himself, Lucifer, the Morning star, Samael, whatever. But like I think he's just some demon or something, I doubt this specific high school would be haunted by the Christian's evil powerwank."

"You think he's a demon. The blond dude?" Gabe asked, pointing his thumb down an empty hallway.

"Yup," I agreed, "I mean, he /seems/ to be a part of the supernatural, and he brought some people back alive, so I'm pretty confident he's not human."

"He brought people back to life? The demon?"

"Yus, like the entire teaching staff, and like fifty percent of the student population. Just ask... Well, anyone, really. They pretend absolutely nothing happened, but they'll probably be relieved they aren't the only ones who remember dying or whatever. Which is why midnight shift is so dangerous, because, like, murderhappy ghosts, and stuff. Do you believe in ghosts now?"

Gabe gave me a contemplative look, "You're trying to fuck me to spite him, aren't you?"

"Absolutely. He destroyed and stole over half of my wardrobe. Plus, we both get a fun time out of it?"

"I'm not getting dismembered and tortured until I pass out from pain because you're angry your boyfriend destroyed your clothes," Gabe said flatly as he turned to leave.

"The clothes are destroyed because he /isn't/ my boyfriend! And that wasn't my only motivation!" I called, but he wasn't listening. I sighed, shaking my head and going back to work.