Chapter Text
As the second month since Husk had found Danica neared its end, the cat demon had fallen into a sort of routine.
Each morning, he woke before dawn and warmed a bottle, timing it so it was ready just as Danica began to stir in her crib. Her soft fussing had become as reliable as any alarm clock. He would scoop her up, carry her to his armchair, and feed her there, her small body tucked securely against his chest.
She always stared up at him while she drank, wide-eyed, as if afraid he might disappear if she looked away. No matter what distracted her during the day, she never broke that gaze until the bottle was empty.
After breakfast, he would get her dressed for the day. Normally, Husk would spend most of his hours down on the casino floor, playing the tables, watching patrons, and keeping a sharp eye on every deal and movement. But ever since he found Danica, it had not felt right to leave her. Even when Tilly offered to watch her, something in Husk refused to let her out of his sight for long periods of time.
So, he stayed upstairs more often now. He handled business from his penthouse office, reviewed paperwork at his desk, and only went downstairs when something demanded his personal attention. The casino still ran smoothly, maybe even better since he stopped playing against patrons, but his priorities had shifted, whether he admitted it or not.
Husk rubbed at his eyes as he finished fastening the tiny buttons on Danica’s outfit. Sleep had become a luxury lately. She woke several times each night, crying hard enough to make his chest tighten. He could not tell if it was nightmares or simply a dislike of the dark, but either way, he was there within seconds every time.
The rest of the day consisted of Husk looking after her and running the casino from his personal office. Danica would get lunch, an afternoon nap, dinner, and an early bedtime with playtimes in between before Husk either retired to his own bed from exhaustion, or had a few drinks at his bar.
Danica had also picked up a few new quirks over the past few weeks. Most notably, her fascination with his wings, and his tail.
Especially his tail. That discovery had happened by accident.
One evening, Husk had been tidying the penthouse while Danica lay on her playmat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by soft toys. He moved around quietly, gathering stray items and straightening furniture.
Then he misjudged a turn and smacked his head against the edge of a nearby table.
A sharp hiss left him as he muttered a curse under his breath, one hand rubbing the sore spot. His tail lashed behind him in irritation, flicking sharply through the air.
A small, delighted giggle cut through the room. Husk blinked and glanced over his shoulder.
Danica was staring up at his swishing tail, utterly enraptured, her eyes bright, her tiny hands reaching upward as it moved back and forth above her like the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.
His tail flicked again. She squealed. Husk stared at her for a long moment.
“You’ve got to be kidding me...”
The tail slowed. She made an impatient little noise, and despite himself, Husk let it swish again, just to hear her laugh.
Danica’s eyes followed the movement with intense concentration, her tiny hands opening and closing as if she could will it closer.
“Oh, you like that, huh?”
The feathered end swayed just out of reach. She kicked her legs excitedly, a soft squeal bubbling out of her. With a faint smirk tugging at his mouth, Husk lowered his tail a little more.
The soft feathers brushed lightly against her cheek. Danica froze for half a second, startled by the ticklish touch, and then burst into loud giggles. Her hands flailed happily, trying to grab hold of the moving feathers.
“Careful, kid,” Husk huffed out a quiet chuckle of his own. “It’s attached.”
He drew it back just as her fingers nearly closed around it. She made a tiny sound of protest.
“Oh, don’t start.”
He brought it close again, this time letting the feathered tip trail gently across her other cheek, then over the tip of her nose. She scrunched her face, eyes squeezing shut as she laughed harder, the sounds filling the penthouse.
The sound did something strange to Husk’s chest. He found himself smiling fully now; not the sharp, knowing smirk he wore in public, but something softer, something private.
He pulled his tail away once more, and she immediately looked around for it, wide-eyed and expectant.
“Demanding, aren’t you?”
Her response was another eager little squeal. So, he did it again. Back and forth, brush and retreat. Feathers grazing her cheeks, her chin, the soft curve of her forehead.
Each time he pulled away, she made little noises of frustration until it returned. Husk shook his head lightly, though his tail continued its swaying.
When she finally managed to catch a small tuft of feathers in her fist, holding on with triumphant determination, he did not pull away immediately. He just let her keep it as she smiled widely, before he realized he had not thought about the casino once in the past ten minutes.
Husk shook his head as the memory faded, and he looked down at the little girl in his arms.
“You’re just temporary,” he mumbled to himself sadly. “There’s gotta be someone out there looking for ya, kid…”
He once again ignored the cold feeling those words left in his chest.
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Weeks later, Danica once again threw Husk for a loop.
One evening, she was on her stomach on the thick rug in the centre of the penthouse, surrounded by soft toys Husk swore multiplied when he was not looking. In particular, he eyed the plush that looked very suspiciously like him, one ‘found’ by Tilly, and had very quickly become Danica’s favourite toy.
She had been steadily growing stronger, lifting her head higher, pushing up on her arms, rocking slightly when she gets excited.
Husk thought it would be like any other typical night, until he heard a new sound.
A sharp little grunt.
Husk looked up from the low table where he was sorting paperwork. She was fixated on something just out of her reach…his tail.
It was stretched lazily across the floor behind him, feathered tip twitching every now and then with him barely realising it.
Danica’s eyes narrowed in determination. She pushed up onto her hands, tucked her knees underneath her belly…then she rocked, back and forth, back and forth, until she suddenly collapsed onto her chest with a small cry.
Husk’s ears flicked as he fully turned to face her.
“You alright?” he asked with concern.
Danica merely scowled at the rug beneath her before she tried again. This time, she managed to stay up a little longer. Her arms shook as she let out another tiny grunt of effort.
Husk slowly moved off the chair to the floor onto his knees, waiting patiently for what she planned next.
“You’re not in a race, kid,” he reassured.
Danica ignored him as her eyes locked onto his tail once more. She tucked her legs underneath her again and leaned back, almost looking like a kitten ready to pounce, before she suddenly lurched forward. Her body jerked ahead slightly before she fell onto her chest again with a squeak.
Husk froze in shock.
At her success, Danica immediately pushed herself up to try again. She managed to move forward another inch, her little fingers clawing at the rug beneath her.
Husk almost stopped her, not wanting her to hurt herself, but the sheer determination on her face forced him to stay where he was.
By the third attempt, she was breathing hard, the effort proving to be quite the toll on her little body.
And then…she actually started crawling.
Two uneven, wobbly movements forward before she tipped sideways onto her side, right into his tail. Danica squealed in victory as the feathered tip brushed her arm, holding onto the tail like it was the best prize in the entire world.
Husk stared at her as he felt that familiar warmth spread throughout his chest for a few moments, followed immediately by alarm.
“Oh, shit…” he muttered.
Danica rolled onto her stomach again, full of energy as she looked around for her next target.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Husk spoke as he stood up and quickly scooped her into his arms before she could escape. She protested loudly, tiny hands reaching back toward the floor. “You were stationary yesterday…I could manage that, keep you in one place, but now…”
Danica kicked her legs happily, completely unbothered by his concern. His tail flicked at the uncertainty, and her head snapped toward it immediately. She leaned forward in his grip, determined to reach it again.
“…I’m gonna have to baby-proof the penthouse now, aren’t I…?” Husk asked as he let out a long sigh.
Danica simply beamed at him. Husk pulled her closer against his chest, one hand wrapped securely around her middle.
“Yeah, yeah, good job, kid,” he muttered softly, as he brushed his thumb lightly over her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You’re a fighter; don’t let anyone forget that.”
She grinned up at him like she understood every word he said. Husk tried to ignore the fact that in the back of his mind, he was already mapping every sharp corner in the penthouse.
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Danica’s first steps did not happen dramatically. There was no build-up, no warning, just another quiet afternoon in the penthouse.
Danica is standing, gripping the edge of the couch with both hands. She had been pulling herself up for weeks now, wobbling, proud, stubborn. Husk pretended not to hover every time she did it.
He was a few feet away at the low table, sorting chips into neat stacks. He felt it before he saw it, that subtle shift in the air. The silence that every parent fears, that meant she was about to attempt something reckless.
“What are you plotting?” he asked without looking up.
When she did not answer, he glanced over, and froze.
Danica was not holding the couch anymore. She was just…standing there, arms out slightly for balance, knees wobbling, eyes locked on him.
Husk felt his chest tighten.
“Danica…” he warned.
She merely beamed…then she took a step. It was tiny and unsteady. Her foot barely lifted off the rug before it came down again.
But she moved forward. She wobbled violently, arms flailing at her sides.
Husk’s heart stuttered. Every instinct screamed at him to lunge toward her, but he does not move. He forced himself to stay exactly where he was, muscles coiled and ready.
“Easy,” he spoke quietly. “Easy, kitten.”
She took another step. This one was more unstable. Her foot caught on the rug.
Husk’s wings twitched.
“Danica…”
Third step. She was halfway to him now. Her face was a mix of fierce concentration and delight, like she could not believe was moving herself.
Then, on the fourth step, she suddenly tipped forward. Husk was already moving, and in one smooth motion, he was across the room, catching her just before she faceplanted into the rug. She landed against his chest instead, startled but unharmed.
There was a split second of stunned silence, then she burst into giggles. Husk was breathing too hard, his long dead heart hammering in his chest.
“You should not be walking already…” he said, voice tight. “You’re still too little…”
Danica grabbed a fistful of his shirt and laughed again, completely fearless. That was when it hit him.
She knew. She knew he would catch her. That complete trust sent a stab of fear through Husk’s heart.
In his brief moment of panic, she quickly pushed back against his chest, trying to stand again.
“Absolutely not,” he muttered, tightening his hold on her as he stood up. She protested with an indignant squeak. Husk sighed as he lowered her carefully to her feet but kept his hands hovering just inches away. She steadied herself with her arms, looking up at him, before taking another wobbly step.
This time, he backed away slowly as Danica toddled forward, hands out and ready.
One step, then two, then three. Each one, she grew more confident. Each one was proof she was growing past the tiny, fragile thing he first found.
Her final step sent her crashing into his legs. She wrapped her arms around one of them in a triumphant hug. Husk looked down at her.
“Show-off,” he murmured with a tight smile. His hands slid under her arms and he lifted her up once again. Danica squealed proudly, tiny fingers tangling in his fur, tight grip demanding his attention.
“You think this means you can run the place now?” Husk chuckled. She grinned in response, and he pressed his forehead to hers with a small purr.
He did not say he was proud out loud, nor did he acknowledge the warmth blooming in his chest. He just adjusted his grip, holding her securely against him as his wings folded around them both. Danica snuggled into his chest fur with a small contented sigh as she closed her eyes.
“You have no idea what you do to me, kitten,” Husk muttered quietly, almost to himself. “I swear I will do my best to do right by you…however long you stay with me.”
Danica cooed in response to his vow as she fell into a deep sleep. Husk did not let her go.
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The first time Danica tried solid food, Husk treated it like a high-risk operation.
The highchair was positioned right in the centre of the kitchen, far from sharp corners, heavy furniture, or anything she could shove off a surface. A towel was placed right underneath, while he kept another towel draped over his shoulder. He was wearing a plain shirt and sweatpants.
Danica kicked her feet excitedly, completely unaware of the tactical planning that went into this moment.
Husk eyed the small bowl in his hand like it personally offended him.
Mashed bananas. At Tilly’s suggestion, and after reading three different baby pamphlets before agreeing to this. Mashed bananas had a soft texture, were a low choking risk, and were easy to swallow, though the food still looked questionable.
“I can’t see how anyone would like this,” he muttered, inspecting the spoon.
Danica banged her hands on the highchair tray.
“Yeah, yeah, I see the enthusiasm,” Husk chuckled. He scooped a tiny amount onto the spoon, before he hesitated.
Danica opened her mouth automatically. He grimaced.
“You sure about this...?” he asked uncertainly.
She leaned forward impatiently. With a sigh, he brough the spoon closer like he was defusing a bomb. The moment it touched her tongue, she recoiled. Her entire face scrunched up, and her eyes watered. She made a noise, a deeply offended, outraged squawk that sounded like he committed the worst crime in history.
Husk blinked.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered.
Danica smacked her lips, confused by the texture. Her tongue stuck out uncertainly. For one horrifying second, Husk thought she was going to choke. He was halfway out of his chair, when she finally slowly swallowed.
Her face relaxed just a fraction. Husk watched her like she might explode.
“Well?”
She paused, then she opened her mouth again. Husk stared.
“You can't be serious.”
She slapped the tray in response.
“Unbelievable,” Husk huffed as he scooped up a second spoonful. This time, Danica was ready. The grimace was smaller, more thoughtful. Some banana dribbled down her chin.
Husk wiped it automatically with the towel over his shoulder.
“You’re making a mess,” he observed. Danica grinned at him, banana smeared across her cheek now. Husk sighed.
It went downhill from there. By the fourth spoonful, she was trying to grab the spoon herself. By the sixth, she succeeded.
Banana flew everywhere. On the tray, on her hands, on his shirt, on the towel on the floor. Husk stared at the smear now streaked across his chest.
“I think the objective is to get the food into your mouth, not splatter me with it,” he spoke. Danica squealed with delighted chaos and slammed her palm down into the bowl with a heavy splat.
There was a long, heavy silence, before Husk exhaled slowly through his nose.
“...Fine...”
He set the spoon down and pushed the bowl closer to her.
“Go ahead, do it yourself.”
She did…with enthusiasm. Her fingers sunk into the mushy substance. She squished it, studied it, and brought her hand towards her mouth with reckless abandon.
Half of it landed in her mouth, the other half missed and it splattered on the wall behind her. She beamed at the chaos.
Husk knew he should not feel proud about mashed fruit, but he does, because she was willingly trying something new. She was growing into her personality, trusting that whatever he placed in front of her was safe.
That thought caused that strange warmth to bloom in his chest once again. He ignored it and leaned forward, gently wiping her face again.
“You’re disgusting,” he mutters softly with a laugh. Danica giggled as he wiped the banana off her nose.
Husk shook his head and let out another low chuckle. The casino downstairs could be on fire right now, and he would not know it, because up there, he was watching this kid discover bananas like it was the most important thing in Hell.
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As more time passed, the quiet penthouse slowly filled with new sounds.
At first, it was just soft coos, little noises she made while lying on her back, staring at the ceiling or at Husk’s wings when he stretched them overhead. Husk would pause mid-paperwork every time, ears twitching toward her automatically.
Then the coos turned into babbling.
Strings of nonsense syllables spilled from her mouth as she sat propped up against pillows on the couch beside him.
“Ba…ba!”
Husk pretended not to be invested.
“Such riveting conversation,” he muttered, scanning over a ledger, keeping a hand near her in case she decided to try walking again.
“Da…ba!”
Husk looked up. Danica was staring directly at him, brows furrowed in fierce concentration, as if she were trying very hard to explain something important. Her small hands waved in the air for emphasis.
“You negotiating deals already?” he asked with a chuckle. She squealed and slapped her hands against the cushion, delighted that he had responded.
It became routine after that. Whether she was lying on her mat, taking a few wobbly steps, or sitting on his lap, she would babble, and he would answer.
Sometimes he would mimic the sounds back at her in a low, teasing voice. The first time he did, she froze in shock, before she burst into hysterical giggles, as if he had just said the funniest thing in all of Hell.
Husk found himself doing it more often than he would ever admit. Their own version of a conversation.
Much like her first steps, however, that all changed one ordinary afternoon.
Husk was seated in his office armchair, Danica was perched carefully on his lap, one arm securely around her middle to keep her steady. She had been unusually chatty that day, incoherent babbles spilling out as she tugged at the front of his shirt.
“Ba…ba…ma!”
“Uh-huh,” he murmured absent-mindedly, half-focused on the paperwork balanced on the armrest. The bar needed a refill of a drink found only in the Lust Ring, and a few slot machines needed replacing, so he was trying to concentrate on the numbers.
Danica, clearly not happy with the lack of a response, suddenly grabbed a fistful of his chest fur and yanked hard.
“Shit, kid!” he exclaimed at the sharp pain, looking down at her. “You’ve got an iron grip, you know that?”
Danica did not immediately respond. Her eyes were locked on his face. Husk froze at the clear determination on her face as she opened her mouth.
“Da…”
He raised a brow as she struggled to speak.
“Don’t strain yourself,” he muttered, patting her hair.
Her mouth opened again, slower this time.
“Daa…”
Husk stilled. Something about the way she was looking at him seemed…unusual. She was completely focused on him, more so than normal.
“Da…da…”
The world stopped.
The word was clumsy, soft around the edges, but to Husk, it was clear. He did not move, did not breathe, ears slowly falling to the sides of his head as realisation began to dawn on him.
Danica blinked at him, then broke into a pleased grin, clearly proud of herself as she put her entire body into her next attempt.
“Dada!”
The paperwork slid from Husk’s hand onto the floor.
“…What…?” he questioned quietly.
Danica patted his chest with both hands.
“Dada!”
Husk’s throat tightened and his stomach dropped.
No. No, no, no.
Danica is sitting up on his lap now, one fist tangled in his shirt, staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes. She did not understand the weight of what she had just done. To her, it was just a sound she was proud to have said and gotten his attention.
There were plenty of explanations Husk could have come up with. It was a common first sound for babies, easy syllables, just a complete coincidence.
But she was not looking around, nor was she distracted. She was looking right at him.
Husk swallowed, his arm tightening just slightly around her as if grounding himself.
“Kid…” he muttered, voice rougher than usual.
Danica beamed up at him.
“Dada,” she repeated with a small giggle.
“That’s not…” Husk’s voice caught as he cleared his throat. “You don’t know what you’re saying, kid.”
She merely patted at his chest again.
“Dada.”
The word echoed loudly in the penthouse. Husk pulled back slightly without meaning to, just enough to put space between them. His wings twitched, feathers bristling instead of curling protectively like they normally did.
Dad…No…He could not be…
He was just supposed to be keeping her safe. That was it. This was just a temporary arrangement.
He could not be a dad. He should have kept her at arm’s length, but he had become too attached, and now, had let her become attached as well.
His mind flashed through everything that could go wrong.
Enemies. Deals. The casino. The dangers of Hell outside. The fact that he still drunk some nights, even if it was less. The fact that he had made mistakes before…big ones.
He was not built to be someone’s dad.
Danica’s smile wobbled slightly when he did not respond the way he usually does.
“…Dada?” she tried again, softer now, eyes almost welling up with tears.
Husk forced his face into something neutral.
“It’s just babble,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “It’s what a lot of babies say first. It means nothing.”
But his voice sounded rough. Danica shifted uncertainly in his lap.
For a split second, something flickered in her expression. Not understanding, not outright hurt…but confusion. Like she could feel something was wrong, and she had no idea why, just that she had something to do with it.
That made Husk feel worse as his chest tightened painfully.
Despite his best efforts to keep distance, she clearly saw him as something more than just her protector, and that terrified him more than any threat in Hell ever could.
If she saw him as that, if she depended on him like that…then losing him would destroy her, and losing her would destroy him.
Husk exhaled slowly, dragging a clawed hand down his face.
“Kid…” he says again, softer this time.
Danica leaned toward him instinctively, small hands reaching for his face. He hesitated, only for a heartbeat, before he pulled her back against his chest. His arms wrapped around her tighter than before, almost possessively. His wings shifted unconsciously, curling around them both, shielding them from the outside world.
She relaxed immediately, tiny fingers curling into his fur.
“…Don’t…” he whispered under his breath, eyes closing briefly. “Don’t give me that, kitten…I don’t deserve it…”
But she already had, and deep down, he knew there was no turning back now. Despite everything, he knew he could no longer call this temporary. It was slowly becoming more permanent, and that one word had solidified it.
When she murmured a sleepy little “Dada” against his chest a few minutes later…he did not correct her again. He merely held her tighter.