Archive of Our Own

Husk's ears turned towards the lobby as the front door slammed open, though he didn't look up from the glass he was cleaning. The glass he'd been cleaning for roughly the last forty-seven minutes, but hey, who's counting?

It was well past two in the morning, it wasn't like anybody else was even up – or if they were, they weren't spending their time in this shitty bar.

(Okay, that might be a little unfair – Lucifer had designed it and it was a lot nicer than it used to be, but it didn't help Husk's mood right now.)

So why was Husk up?

Well, the answer to that question was currently stomping through the lobby and into his bar, folding itself onto one of the bar stools.

“Heya Whiskers – what's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?” Angel smiled at him – which would normally make his idiot heart do a stupid fucking flip, but not tonight. Tonight it looked brittle, and his makeup was a mess, eyeliner or eye shadow or whatever it was smudged around his eyes, running from the outer corners.

“Long day at work?” Husk asked carefully, grabbing down a cocktail glass and a bottle of simple syrup. He looked up when Angel put a hand on his wrist, stopping him just before he started pouring the simple syrup into the whisky.

Flip.

“Nah, just gimme a triple on the rocks tonight, I ain't got time for any of that fancy shit,” Angel informed him, picking up the glass and wiggling it in request.

Husk paused.

“You sure, Legs? I really think I've got the New York Sour down, now. Could use some feedback from an expert,” Husk tried to play off his concerns, tried to steer Angel away from the path to hangover town he'd only regret taking in the morning.

“I said gimme a fuckin' drink, Husk,” Angel snarled, his hand suddenly tightening on Husk's wrist. He realised a second later what he'd done, letting go as his eyes opened wide. Miserably, his head sank into his upper two hands, arms braced on the bar top.

Husk's eyes flicked down. One of those days, then.

“Alright. One triple on the rocks, coming right up,” Husk muttered. Hey, it was his job, after all. Far be it for him to poke his nose into the business of the hotel guests.

“I just – Just tonight, okay?” Angel said quietly, his arms sinking down until his head was pillowed against the bar, his lower arms clenched tightly around his middle. His voice was muffled, speaking into the bar top. “I just wanna forget, just for a little while.”

Husk stared him, his eyebrows lowered in concern. There was a part of him that wanted to pull Angel close, wipe away the makeup stains and tell him it would be okay – a lie, but whatever, who didn't do a little lying down here anyway – but that wasn't... It wasn't them.

Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Oh, he wasn't a moron – he had known from the minute he'd seen Angel break that mask in front of him that his feelings towards the spider demon were a little more complicated than a simple interest in his well-being.

It had honestly scared the fuck out of him, at first. For the longest time, he'd barely felt anything at all, so this? Yeah, genuinely terrifying.

But he wasn't the same kind of idiot Alastor was, either – he wasn't gonna try and deny it, run away or refuse to acknowledge what he felt.

No, he was just the kind of idiot who wouldn't do anything about it because it didn't seem right, because he wasn't what Angel needed, - not right now. The kind of idiot who hung around the bar until two in the morning just to be sure that the other sinner got back safe.

That kind of idiot.

“You wanna talk about it?” Husk offered – well, if he was doing the bartender routine, might as well go for the full package, right? He finished pouring the whisky and set the glass down in front of the spider demon – a triple on the rocks in a cocktail glass, now that was something.

Angel lifted his head, sitting up. He didn't meet Husk's eyes, just picked up the drink and slammed it back in one go. His fingers clenched around the stem of the glass and he pushed his hair away from his face with another hand. He hesitated, briefly, before shaking his head.

“Nah. Leave that shit at the studio. Ain't no good bringin' it home,” he muttered, holding the glass out to Husk and wiggling it in the air again, a silent request for a refill.

“Alright. If you say so. You sure you want another?” Husk asked, not caring whether the question would piss Angel off again. He couldn't really judge the younger man for it, not when he'd sought his own solace in the bottom of a bottle more times than he could count.

He just didn't want Angel to go down that same path. He deserved better. Better than his job, better than his family – better than him.

Angel had made such progress over the last few months, even Vaggie was impressed – and that wasn't easy to do. If redemption was ever possible, maybe he would be the one to prove it. Hell, he'd worked hard enough that he fucking deserved it at this point.

“Like I said,” Angel replied, shifting until his lower arms were now crossed on the bar top instead, leaning forward on his stool to wave that empty glass more obviously in Husk's face.

“I wanna forget. Unless...” Angel's face suddenly turned sly, his usual attitude flicking back into place like somebody had thrown a switch in his head, and his free upper hand started tracing circles along the bar. “Unless you can think of another way t'make me forget? How about it, Whiskers?” he wiggled on the seat, his voice dropping into a purr as his smirk spread. “Think you can blow my mind?”

Husk sighed internally. This again.

“No,” he deadpanned, taking Angel's cocktail glass and clinking a whisky tumbler onto the bar instead, measuring out another two shots.

“Oh no? How's about you just fuck me, then?” Angel shot back, slipping an upper hand under his chin and tipping his head with a wink.

“Angel...” Husk said warningly, his voice low, and the seductive look Angel was wearing dropped off his face abruptly, replaced by one of pure misery.

“Why not? Is it Val? Cause I showered before I came back, there's none of his – none of him on me anymore. Or is it somethin' else, huh? You just don't like the idea of somebody's sloppy seconds, is that it?” Angel demanded, his voice cracking. He snatched the drink Husk had poured and turned away, his lower elbows supporting his torso against the bar as he once again refused to look at the bartender.

Angel crossed his upper arms over his chest, drink in one hand, and Husk's ear twitched as he picked up on the sound of the other man sniffing, just once, before he swallowed this drink in one go, too, slamming the glass back to the bar top.

“I don't give a shit about that,” Husk growled, even though the mention of that disgusting moth had his tail flicking angrily against the floor. It was true, though – he wouldn't give a fuck if Angel was filthy, covered in the other man – that wasn't the issue, here.

“Then why?” Angel insisted, his voice quiet, still not looking back at the bartender.

Shit – how to convey this without making Angel feel like Husk was telling him what to do, what was good for him?

“Would it help?” Husk asked quietly, answering Angel's question with one of his own. When Angel twisted to look at him, his brows lowered in confusion, Husk hopped up onto the bar, swinging his legs over the other side, sitting beside the spider demon.

“Usin' me. Would it help?” he clarified, his voice mild. If it would – if Angel said it would, then he'd go along with it, let Angel use him however he saw fit, if only to wipe away the memory of Valentino's touch. It wasn't what he wanted, but if Angel needed it, then – fine.

“Don't – don't say it like that,” Angel muttered, his eyes flicking to Husk's face before darting back to his own lap, hunching over himself once more, all four arms wrapped around his torso.

“Why not?” Husk challenged, repeating Angel's earlier question to him. “Isn't that what you'd be doin'?”

Angel didn't answer, and a lump of guilt rose up in Husk's throat, for pushing him. He wasn't the best at this, not really. He reached out a wing, hovering it over the spider demon's back, only folding it around Angel when the other man leant into it.

“I'm as bad as him,” Angel muttered, and a growl forced its way out of Husk's throat before he could stop it. Angel looked up in surprise as Husk roughly pulled the other man against his side with his wing, the feathers enfolding Angel until all that could be seen was a fluffy tuft of hair at the top, and those long legs dangling off his stool.

“Don't ever fuckin' say that kind of shit, Angel,” Husk told him, a rumble still in his throat as his teeth bared at the implication. There was a sharp intake of breath from the spider demon, and Husk felt a pair of arms circle around his middle, Angel pushing his face into the fur of Husk's chest.

Flip, went his heart again, and he brought his own arm over the other man's shoulders, silent for long minutes as Angel did nothing but squeeze him so tightly he felt like he might just break in half. The sinner wasn't crying – at least, it didn't seem that way to Husk – but whatever he was getting out of this, Husk was willing to let him take as much as he needed.

Yeah, he was a special kind of idiot indeed.

“I don't wanna use you,” Angel mumbled, the words muffled against Husk's fur. Husk nodded. He knew that.

“I know, Legs,” Husk answered quietly, lifting his wing when Angel pushed himself away, feeling suddenly colder for the absence of him. He tried to inject some lightness back into the conversation, something Angel could grab onto and retreat behind, if he needed.

“'Sides – even if you did, I ain't that easy to wrangle. You really think you could take me?” he huffed, sliding back behind the bar and collecting Angel's two glasses. Angel barked a laugh, getting to his feet.

“Take you, Whiskers? With pleasure,” he grinned, and Husk's heart did another flip at the fact that grin was focused on him, not a calculated mask, this time, just genuine amusement at the innuendo. He snorted, putting the bottles away.

“It's late. You should get to bed, Angel. Your bed,” he added when an eyebrow shot up in interest. The spider demon pouted, the grin quickly returning to his face when his eyes darted down to Husk's chest and back up again.

Angel turned on his heel, waving at Husk over his shoulder.

“Dawn dish soap. You're welcome,” he called out, sauntering out of the bar and towards the staircase.

“What-” Husk started, looking down at himself, a groan escaping him at the amount of eye shadow staining the white fur of his chest.

“I'm not a goddamn makeup towel!” he called at Angel's retreating back, rewarded only with a laugh and the sight of Angel flipping him the bird over his shoulder.

Alone, a private smile spread across his face. Damn, he was losing it. This was impossible, and yet every time Angel looked at him, smiled at him – his heart flipped again – hugged him.

He really was a fucking idiot.

* * * * * *

Husk's jaw clicked when he yawned, blearily blinking sleep from his eyes. At least Charlie hadn't insisted on any morning activities, today – staying up until Angel got back never made those a particularly enjoyable time. The tips of his wings dragged on the ground behind him, the sinner uncaring about whether it was good for them or not.

He sniffed. Somebody had been cooking – more than just toast, this morning, smelled like a full buffet had been prepared in that kitchen.

Husk swung open the door, surprised when it was only Alastor in the room, a spread of options before him – bacon, eggs, toast, a fresh pot of coffee (with an untouched plate of sugar cubes) – huh. He hadn't made all this, had he?

“Our diminutive ruler decided to teach his daughter how to cook,” Alastor said without looking up from the newspaper held in front of him. Husk raised his brows.

“So, any of this safe, or no?” he clarified, even as his stomach growled with interest. Alastor hummed, pointing with one claw at a smaller set of dishes piled in the corner, sad, shrivelled burnt pieces of bread and – was that spinach? Maybe it was, once – not anymore.

“There's our dear Charlie's contribution, if you'd like to sample it. Her father was rather enthusiastic in the demonstration department – though I shan't complain. I am quite enjoying reaping the rewards of this particular endeavour,” Alastor glanced up, his signature smile close lipped this morning. His eyes widened with interest as he took a sip of his coffee, and Husk turned from him with a flick of his tail, collecting a plate and gathering up a bit of everything in sight.

“You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards, Husker. Tell me, how is Angel Dust today?” Alastor asked casually, Husk's spine stiffening at the question.

“What's that got to do with anything?” the bartender grumbled out, hauling himself onto one of the tall kitchen chairs at the breakfast bar. The first taste of the sautéd mushrooms on his tongue could almost be described as heavenly – fitting, considering who had cooked them.

“Well, it's not as though you stay in the bar until the early hours of the morning because you particularly enjoy the ambience, is it?” Alastor answered, his laugh track playing in the background. The fucker was in an unusually good mood this morning, so Husk assumed there were no current issues of note with the chef.

Husk decided that refusing to engage any further would be the fastest way to lose Alastor's attention, the radio demon would undoubtedly get bored when his prodding didn't produce any entertaining results and flit off to find somebody else to annoy – probably Lucifer, but hey, that guy brought it on himself. He focused instead on his breakfast, helping himself to some more slices of bacon when he polished off his first serving.

“Damn, this hotel does a breakfast buffet? Maybe I should try an' get up before midday more often!”

Husk's ears twisted to the kitchen door, the unmistakable voice of Angel announcing his arrival surprising him. The actor didn't usually make it downstairs until lunch.

Husk poured him a coffee, sliding it over to the spider demon when he took a seat opposite him, stretching his upper arms over his head and pushing his lower into his back with a wince.

“Angel!” Alastor greeted him brightly, and Husk looked up at him with a sudden curl of suspicion. “We were just talking about you!”

Alright, this good mood of his was officially getting on Husk's nerves. The guy just didn't know how to stay out of other people's business.

“Oh yeah? Anythin' juicy?” Angel answered with interest, spreading an obscene amount of peanut butter onto a slice of sourdough with one set of arms while he lifted his drink with the other, his eyes closing in relief at the caffeine.

The asshole didn't even have the decency to look like he'd downed five shots of whisky in as many minutes, only to retreat to bed at what must have been close to three in the morning. How the fuck did he do it? How did he always manage to look so... so fuckin' gorgeous?

It wasn't fair – Husk had feathers sticking out of his wings in all directions, he'd shoved his hair under his hat without even attempting to run a comb through it, and Angel had the audacity to look like this?

He was startled out of his reverie by the feeling of Alastor tapping him on the shoulder with his microphone, the gambler automatically trying to swat at it with a growl. Angel had a hand under his chin, a small smile on his face as he looked at across at him. What? Did he have something on his face, or something?

“Don't you know it's rude to stare, Husker?” Alastor admonished with a raise of his brow, pouring himself another mug of coffee.

“I – what?” Husk responded, suddenly flustered, realising he probably had been staring.

“Don't sweat it, Whiskers. Of all the people in this room, I know I'm the best one to look at,” Angel grinned, slapping another piece of toast smothered in strawberry jam onto the peanut butter monstrosity and taking a bite.

Alastor made a noise as though he was going to disagree, but didn't say anything else. It seemed like that debate, at least, was beneath his effort.

“Sorry I kept you up,” Angel muttered after he'd swallowed the food in his mouth. Husk shrugged, spearing a poached egg with a fork and watching the way the yolk ran over the toast below it.

“Nah, it's nothing. One of the perks of my age – I don't bounce back in the mornings as well as some of you folks,” Husk dismissed him, not missing the way Angel's brow furrowed.

“Is that the problem? Is that why you don't wanna... cause you think you're too old for me?” Angel suddenly asked, and Husk's ears pressed back with a wince. He hadn't meant to offend the man, but, now that he mentioned it...

“I got about forty years of life on you, Legs. I'd say that puts me in a very different age bracket,” Husk confirmed, jumping when Angel slammed his fork onto the bench. Oh, shit – now he'd done it. He looked to Alastor for assistance, but the damned man was just sitting there, smiling.

Not that that was anything unusual, of course – but the way his eyelids opened wide at Husk's silent plea, as though saying 'this is your mess, I'm just here to see how you get yourself out of it', confirmed that he'd be receiving no help from that quarter.

Prick.

“Oh yeah? Well I got about forty years'a death on you! I'd say that makes us equals pequals! I ain't a kid!” Angel protested, and Husk immediately regretted saying anything. No – he wasn't a kid, Angel was right. It was unfair of him to use that as one of the reasons he couldn't allow himself to get closer to the other sinner.

“Angel,” he tried, quietly, but the demon was on a roll, not stopping now that he'd worked himself up into an argument.

“You really think an age gap is that much of a big deal? Here? I mean, look at Alastor-”

“Please don't,” Alastor interjected, a mild expression of alarm on his face at suddenly being brought into this, having been quite content to watch it play out from the sidelines.

“-There's about ten thousand years between him an' the guy who's bed he's warmin', so you really think forty is gonna be an issue?” Angel continued, completely ignoring Alastor's protest.

“I think it's time for me to take my leave. Have a pleasant morning! Best of luck, Husker,” Alastor announced, rather more hastily than he normally would, vanishing in a swirl of darkness, his coffee mug – oh, and the entire fuckin' pot, what an asshole – going with him.

Well, that was one way to get rid of him. Not that Husk wanted to risk his own afterlife ever trying it himself.

“I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't mean it like that,” Husk muttered, alone in the kitchen with the other man, Angel returning to his breakfast as though he had a personal vendetta to settle against the miniature sausages, his fork and knife scraping against the plate with a high pitched, scratchy sound.

God, he'd thought it before, but Husk was really not very good at this. Even the lessons Charlie had been giving weekly about communication didn't seem to be sticking.

“That's not the problem,” he tried, relieved when Angel stopped trying to Lizzie Borden his breakfast, and looked up at him with his mouth pressed in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed.

“Then what is, Whiskers? Did I get the wrong read on you, or somethin'? Cause one minute you can't keep your eyes off'a me, the next you're blowing me off – and I can't even be bothered to make a joke about that!” Angel exclaimed, flinging his upper set of arms in the air in disbelief. He returned to staring at his plate, mashing his fork into the sausages until they were an entirely unappealing mess on the plate, a depressingly far cry from what Lucifer had prepared.

Husk blew out a breath.

“It's me, Legs. I ain't what you need – I ain't good enough, I can't-” he was going to say that he couldn't take Angel to bed, not like that, not when Angel still referred to it as fucking him, like it would mean nothing – but he got interrupted.

“Oh, fuck! Sorry, didn't realise I'd be walking in on something – I was just looking for Angel,” Cherri blurted from the kitchen door, Angel looking at Husk wide eyed.

Yeah, that was probably for the best, anyway. Angel didn't need the burden of Husk's feelings.

“Well, you found him,” Husk muttered, back in that low, gruff, uncaring bartender role. Speaking of bars, he could use a fucking drink, at this point. It might not even be ten in the morning, but hey, why waste time?

“I can come back later, if you guys were-” Cherri started, but Husk cut her off as he pushed past her, heading to his room to at least tidy himself up a bit before he was no longer capable of doing so.

“Nah. It's not important,” Husk dismissed, his ears flicking backwards as he heard Angel drop his fork to the floor.

“Wait – Husk! What were you gonna say? What – Cherri, get off,” Angel's voice came through the closed door, Cherri's muttered response too low for Husk to make it out as he strode for the staircase.

* * * * * *

Husk muttered a curse under his breath, a small jolt of pain going through his back as he wrestled his wing forward, trying to smooth out the pinions. God, he really hated these fucking things. All it took was one bad night, tossing and turning, and the feathers got all bent out of shape.

Vaggie and Lucifer were lucky – they could just send theirs into some nether dimension, summon them back, fresh as a daisy. Some people had to deal with them on a day to day basis.

Dragging them on the floor really hadn't helped matters, either.

He hissed, less of an exhalation of breath through his teeth and more an animalistic sound of pain, a warning – useless, absolutely fuckin' useless, who was he warning? Himself? Whoever designed this form really had a sick, twisted sense of humour. Why couldn't he have just gotten some dumb ears and antlers, huh?

He dragged his claws roughly along a secondary feather, unhooking it from the one it had gotten stuck on – this was gonna take all fucking morning.

“Can I help?”

Husk jumped, an alarmed chirp rising from his throat before he could bite it back, feathers rustling. He hadn't even heard the door open.

“Ain't you got shit to do? Plans with Cherri?” Husk replied, yanking a feather slightly too hard and sending a jolt of pain along the entire top of his wing, hissing again.

He should've known Angel would follow him. The man was stubborn as anything, and after Husk had said all that – well, he was always gonna want some more answers. His ears twisted to follow the taps of Angel's boots as he entered, the soft snick of the door closing behind him. The bed sank as Angel crawled onto it behind him – and, jeez, his room didn't really give the best impression.

Empty bottles on the floor that Niffty hadn't yet collected from the previous night, cards tossed into the ceiling, stuck in the plaster – the absolutely shocking state of his sheets, blankets hanging over the edge of the bed, a result of his restless night.

“Cherri'll wait. Or I'll go out with her tomorrow – it's not like we're short on time, anyway. We got shit to talk about,” Angel answered, his voice coming from directly behind Husk's still extended wing. He couldn't see the spider demon, not with the way he'd pulled it forward to get at the feathers, but he could feel him shifting, a considering noise arising from his throat.

“What d'you know about feathers, anyway?” Husk grumbled, letting go of the wing in defeat. He leant forward, elbows on his knees as he sat on the edge of the bed, tense.

“You'd be surprised. Lotta the girls got both pins and pinions, and sometimes they need a helping hand – or six,” Angel replied with a teasing lilt in his voice that Husk knew meant he'd be grinning, a self satisfied little smirk on his face.

Angel paused.

“I'm gonna touch your right wing. That okay?” Angel asked, his voice suddenly a lot more serious.

Of course he'd ask – of course he fuckin' would. This was the guy who took them to a sex club called 'Consent', for crying out loud. Just because it made sense, didn't mean Husk's heart didn't do another useless flip at the fact it was directed at him, that that consideration was for him.

More than he deserved.

“It's fine,” he replied gruffly, unable to stop the startled jolt as Angel laid a hand on the top of his wing, right along the bone. The other sinner gripped it firmly, another two hands gently combing through the feathers, stopping when he found a bent shaft, patiently smoothing it until it settled back amongst its peers.

It felt... nice.

“What can't you do, Husk?” Angel murmured softly from behind him, still working away at the primary feathers of his right wing. “Why'd you say that? Why d'you think you ain't good enough?”

Husk tensed his shoulders, relaxing them only when Angel tapped him on the back with his fourth hand, reprimanding him for making his job harder. Guess they were having this conversation. Alright, might as well get it in the open – rip off the bandaid, and figure out how to deal with Angel's disdain later, with the fact that he wouldn't be coming round the bar no more...

“Cause I ain't,” Husk growled, wincing when Angel pulled a feather a little bit more sharply than the others. Yeah, okay – he deserved that. He was meant to be making things clear.

“I can't fuck you, Angel,” he admitted with a frown, glad for once that his face was covered in fur – the other sinner wouldn't be able to see the heat on his cheeks at the admission, now. Angel paused at his work on his wing, and Husk thought maybe that was enough, enough to have him give up, but no.

“Then – then I don't mind. But - can I ask why?” Angel prompted, his voice surprisingly level. “Is it – is it like, your form, or-”

Husk snorted, Angel cutting himself off at the sound.

“Well you don't gotta laugh at me, asshole. I'm tryna understand, okay? Ain't that what Charlie's been bangin' on about, clear communication and all that?” Angel muttered, sounding hurt.

“I ain't laughing at you, Legs. No – no, I can fuck. I'm capable, believe me. I just – I can't fuck you,” Husk tried again, wincing at the way that came out. Christ, he was doing a real good job of mangling this.

“Man, you really know how t'make a guy feel special, huh?” Angel muttered, and Husk pressed his palms against his eyes – this was all coming out wrong. He felt Angel move behind him, sure that this time he was leaving – only for him to return, and a soft bristled brush to start combing the dust out of the feathers at the end of his wing, the ones he'd dragged along the floor.

No, God, he really didn't deserve this.

“Well, guess I can't float everyone's boat, huh? Still – I thought – guess I was bein' stupid,” Angel laughed, sharp and brittle, and Husk's heart cracked in his chest. He clenched his teeth, determined to say the right thing this time.

“Legs, you float the fuck outta my boat,” he admitted, his ear twisting at the shocked intake of breath from behind him. “Trust me on that – all sails operational,” he added with a self deprecating grin – well, if he couldn't be blunt around a porn star, then who?

“Okay... Then now I'm really confused. Left wing, out,” Angel requested, and Husk followed his order easily, letting the right wing tuck back in and extending the left one for Angel to take hold of and start the long task of untangling his feathers all over again.

“If you're into me after all, and I'm ready and willing – and I am! Why can't you fuck me, Whiskers? I'm consenting, promise. Bet we could have a real fun time,” Angel pushed, and Husk could hear the suggestive smirk on his face, even as his heart sank.

Yeah. A fun time.

Ah – fuck it.

“Because I want more, Angel,” Husk explained, gritting his teeth at the admission.

Yeah – he wanted more. He wanted more than he had any right to demand, especially not with everything that Angel had been through. Everything that he himself had done. What did he have to offer, anyway? A washed up former overlord, an addict who didn't practise what he preached? He didn't even own his own soul, not even on weekends, he had nothing to bring to the table. Not a single chip to his name.

He couldn't drag Angel down with him.

Husk tried to prepare himself for the laughter, for Angel to tell him that was ridiculous – he wasn't interested in that.

It didn't come.

Of course it didn't – Angel wasn't an asshole, why would he ever think he'd do something like that? He was probably just trying to think of a way to let him down easy, not hurt his feelings. A waste of time.

Husk jumped when he felt a hot splash on one of his feathers, just above the ones Angel was currently working on – he hadn't stopped straightening the bent shafts, not this entire time. He twisted, trying to see, but Angel pressed a hand against his face and forced him forward again without saying a word.

Shit.

More splashes hit his wing, and he didn't say anything. He hadn't meant to upset him – that was the last thing he wanted.

Fuck.

“Sorry,” Husk mumbled, swallowing. “I shouldn't have said – it was-”

“Ain't nobody ever said that to me before, Whiskers,” Angel cut him off, his voice hoarse. Husk found that hard to believe – then again, maybe not. Poor guy had barely got into his twenties before he ended up here, and Hell wasn't exactly known for its caring inhabitants.

Angel started brushing the dust off the ends of the feathers on his left wing – almost done.

“You can tell me to fuck off. I get it, it's not-”

“Don't be a fuckin' idiot, Husk,” Angel interrupted him again, this time with a shaky laugh. Husk heard the sound of the brush being put down, a little disappointed that the maintenance was over. He'd never enjoyed taking care of his own wings, but when Angel did it...

But then, he was being an idiot – Angel was right. A goddamn fool.

Then why wasn't the spider demon leaving?

Husk felt a trickle of hope lighting up the inside of his heart, worming its way inside, and he couldn't stop it. He should snuff it out – it would only hurt more when Angel told him that wasn't what he wanted. Not with him.

“Never had more, before,” Angel said quietly. Thoughtfully. Husk's ear twisted towards him at the sound, at the faint sense of longing he picked up from the other man. “Figured I ain't worth it, you know?”

Husk tried to twist again at that, furious that Angel would say such a thing, but the actor only covered his face with two hands and pushed Husk around again with a noise of protest.

“Don't look at me right now Whiskers – I'm a mess,” Angel laughed again, his voice still shaking. “I been crying, I look awful-”

“You could never look awful,” Husk growled, but respected Angel's request to stay turned away from him. It actually made the conversation a little easier, truth be told. Of course Angel was worth it – it was him that wasn't.

“Hey, Husk? I'm gonna hug you, that alright?” Angel asked, his voice soft.

Flip.

“It's alright,” Husk answered carefully, trying not to choke on the lump that had formed in his own throat. Seconds later a pair of arms snaked around his middle from behind, and he felt Angel press his face into the space between his wings, right at the top of his back. He let out a breath. Angel's face was wet, and it was soaking into his fur, but that didn't matter a goddamn bit.

“I still ain't good enough-” Husk tried to protest, a part of him still wanting to prevent Angel from making this mistake, even as a larger, far more selfish part of him was soaring at the idea that maybe he could have this.

Angel cut him off, squeezing him tightly in warning. A second pair of arms brushed hesitantly along his tail, and Husk flicked the feathered end up next to the spider demon, who started combing through those feathers with his hands as well.

“Shut the fuck up, Husk. Don't you dare say that kinda thing. Not about the guy I'm – the guy I think I'm fallin' for,” Angel muttered, and Husk's heart flipped straight into his throat this time.

“Oh yeah?” he tried for casual, his voice gruff around the words. “Do I know him? What's he like?”

Angel huffed a laugh into his back, and Husk could feel the grin spreading over the other man's face as he left off his tail feathers and started to run sharp fingernails through the short fur on his tail instead.

“Oh, he's kind of an asshole. Grumpy, rude, bit of a drinker. Makes a good cocktail, though. But inside? Yeah, don't tell anyone, but I think he's a bit of a softie. A real gentle heart, you know? Don't find those kinda guys a lot down here,” Angel mused, and Husk brought his own hands to rest over Angel's arms, still wrapped tightly around his waist. He let his head fall back, the back of it resting on top of Angel's, and sighed.

“You sure you wanna try this, Legs?” he asked the ceiling, still somehow unable to believe that this was happening. That it was happening to him.

“Sure as shit, Husk. That is – if you want to,” Angel answered, a modicum of uncertainty creeping into his voice. Husk squeezed his arm, a reluctant grin spreading across his own face.

“Oh, I want to,” he reassured the other man. He hadn't wanted anything so badly for a long, long time.

“I still ain't fuckin' you, though,” Husk continued in a grumble, and Angel made a confused sound, his fingers stopping their stroking along his tail. His smile went soft.

“But when you're ready, I'll take you to bed. But it ain't gonna be fuckin', so get that outta your stupid head. Nah – I'm gonna worship every goddamn inch of you, Legs – so you let me know when you think you can handle that,” Husk smirked, and he felt Angel's face heating against his back.

Heh.

He'd bet it wasn't easy to fluster the porn star.

“Better make it my bed. I don't wanna break my leg slipping on a bottle just to go to the bathroom,” Angel muttered, and Husk snorted.

“Oh, fuck you,” he shot out, heart doing somersaults at this point.

“Nah, you said you ain't interested in that,” Angel replied cheekily, Husk rolling his eyes. Okay, he walked right into that one.

Angel stopped pulling through the fur on Husk's tail, sitting in silence for a few minutes. Husk didn't mind – Angel was warm against his back, the pressure of his arms around his middle was a reassurance that this was really happening.

“Hey, Husk?” Angel finally asked, still speaking into his fur. Husk made a sound in the back of his throat, his eyes slitting open from where they'd fallen shut, just enjoying the closeness he never dared to think he'd get to have.

“Are you purring?” Angel sounded quietly delighted, and Husk jumped.

Shit.

He had been purring.

Renewed annoyance at his sinner form washed over him and he gently pulled Angel's arms from his middle, getting to his feet.

“Wha- Husk! Come on, it's cute!” Angel protested, grinning up at him from where he still knelt on the bed. Husk shook his head. “I like it,” Angel added, and Husk paused in his battle of getting his hair under control.

“If you mention it to anyone else...” Husk muttered, the threat in his words holding no weight as the spider demon slid onto his stomach, beaming up at him from atop two folded hands. Husk's ear twitched as a bell rang in the lobby, Charlie's way of announcing she needed everyone down there.

“Looks like duty calls,” Husk sighed, giving up on his hair and stuffing it back under his hat. Angel rolled off the bed, stretching as he got to his feet, now standing head and shoulders taller than the bartender.

“Oh - I got tonight off. You wanna – you wanna do somethin'?” Angel asked uncertainly, and when Husk raised a brow, he held a pair of hands up placatingly. “Not fuckin'! Just like – I dunno. Whatever people do for fun, with someone they're... uh...” he trailed off, suddenly unsure.

“Hey. We don't gotta name it. Not yet, not if you don't want. But sure – we can do something. I'd like that,” Husk came to his rescue, his heart flipping yet again at the grateful smile Angel gave him.

Yeah, okay – they both had shit to work through.

But as they made their way down to the lobby, Husk thought that maybe it was possible.

Maybe – just maybe – it could work out.

* * * * * *

Husk looked up from the puzzle pieces he was sorting by colour gradient, realising that Cherri Bomb had stopped putting the edges of the puzzle together. That was today's task – work together to build a puzzle. Not super difficult or creative – but hey, even the princess had to struggle for ideas occasionally, right?

He hadn't been sure why Cherri had immediately dashed to his side, merrily waving her arm in the air as she proclaimed she'd partner with Husk. It wasn't like he'd really spoken to the woman before. She was still relatively new to the hotel, and tended to stick around Angel more than anybody else.

She was currently staring at him with her eye narrowed, arms folded across her chest.

“What? Got a problem with how I'm sortin' these?” he asked irritably, realising he'd never actually gotten to have that morning drink he'd planned on.

Cherri was uncharacteristically solemn when she spoke up, her voice pitched low so the other pairs around the lobby couldn't hear her.

“If you hurt him, I'll stick an angelic knife between your ribs,” she said out of nowhere, and Husk stilled. He looked back at the puzzle pieces, dividing the green up into what looked like branches vs what looked like grass.

“Trust me. If I hurt him, I'll do it myself,” he muttered, glancing up only briefly to see that she was still weighing him up. Whatever she saw – it was obviously enough, as a wide smile broke out on her face and she reached over to clap him on the shoulder.

“No worries, then!” she announced cheerfully, getting back to sorting out the border of their image. Husk blinked, a little confused. That was easier than expected.

He looked over at Angel, the spider demon trying to find the missing edge pieces of his puzzle, exclaiming in annoyance when he realised that Niffty had apparently eaten them. Angel looked over at Husk, flinging his hands in the air in defeat, and caught the bartender looking at him. He smiled, a dazzling thing that lit up the entire room, for Husk.

Flip.

Husk jerked his head at Cherri Bomb and raised a brow, a silent plea for help. Angel shrugged and shook his head, a plain enough statement that he wasn't gonna be getting involved.

“Stop making eyes at each other and start putting together the geese,” Cherri muttered, not looking up. Husk jumped. He hadn't realised it had been that obvious. “I got shopping to do,” she added, slipping the last corner into place and starting work on the lake.

Damn.

Did this mean he had to deal with getting bossed around by Cherri Bomb, too?

That didn't seem fair.

He looked over at Angel again, the actor shaking Niffty by her ankles, trying to get her to cough up the missing puzzle pieces as Charlie ran over in alarm, and a small smile spread over his face as he looked back at the puzzle.

Oh well – he supposed it was worth it.

~fin~