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He’d been waiting for hours with nothing to do but anxiously clean the bar, glancing at the clock every few minutes all the while. 12:04 AM… 12:52 AM… 1:36 AM… 2:20 AM, Husk is still waiting, pacing, fidgeting.
3:06 AM and finally, finally, his ear twitches toward the sound of a door opening, and immediately the bottle he was polishing is abandoned.
Angel is stumbling inside, his face twisted in a pained expression as he slams the door behind him rather loudly, practically collapsing into a bar stool.
Husk’s breath catches in his throat at the variety of bruises littering Angel’s body, from his eye to his neck, trailing down and under his blazer. Husk doesn’t have to see it to know that there are more hiding under his clothing.
Nothing needs to be said for Husk to be at Angel’s side instantly, checking him over with greater concern than he usually cares to show.
“Hiya, kitty”, Angel hums weakly. It’s not flirtatious or sarcastic— rather, it comes out sounding almost… small. Distant. “Pour me something strong, will ya?"
"You sure that's a good idea?" Husk growls, eying Angel's bruises with concern.
"Don't," Angel mutters. He winces as he sits himself up on the stool. "Don’t start with the bullshit. Just wanna forget for a while."
Husk slides him a glass reluctantly. "One drink. I ain’t giving you more than that. You look beat."
Angel takes a long swig. "You have no idea," he sighs distantly. He swirls the glass, watching the liquid spin. "But y’know, it's nothing I ain't used to."
Husk's tail flicks irritably. "You shouldn't have to be used to it. What did he do this time?"
"The usual. Doesn't matter."
Husk takes a swig of whiskey, fur puffed up in irritation when he slams his bottle back on the counter. “Hell it doesn't. One of these days I'm gonna tear that bastard apart."
Angel stares at his drink, looking rather bored at the conversation. "I can handle myself, y’know. Don’t need ya defending me.”
“Fuck, Angel, I know you can. Not sayin’ you can’t. But he’s got your soul, not mine. I ain’t bound to his contract.”
Angel stares back at him with the slightest bit of a smirk and hums. “I’ll deal with the radio bitch, then. Y’know, make it even.”
Husk forces himself to inhale and exhale deeply, not wanting to say much on the matter. Who fuckin’ knows when he’s listening? Either way, they both know it’s wishful thinking. A couple of sinners have nothing on two overlords.
“Wish y’could, Angel”, Husk grunts under his breath.
They both go silent for a moment, and Husk looks away at the burning eye contact.
“…Anthony.”
Husk looks up again. “Huh?”
“‘S Anthony. My name.”
There’s a lengthy pause where neither says a word.
“Anthony”, Husk finally murmurs.
Angel shivers at the way he says it, and he crumbles.
“Shit, okay. You’re okay”, Husk shushes, gently brushing a tear from Angel’s cheek. Angel immediately leans into it, chasing the touch like he’s afraid he’ll never feel something so gentle again. He whimpers, fully aware of how gross he must seem, crying like this— mascara smeared and all— but he’s just filled with so much relief. He hasn’t heard his name- his real name- in ages, let alone that gently. Besides, Husk doesn’t seem to mind the crying. Not at all, really.
“Anthony”, Husk repeats, sounding almost fond. “Suits you.”
Angel sniffles and looks up, placing a hand over where Husk’s is resting on his cheek. He hopes the message is clear. Please don’t let go.
And Husk doesn’t. He looks like it’s the last thing he’d want to do, actually.
And Anthony can’t help himself, really, not when Husk is looking at him like that. Not when he’s so close, close enough that he can see the way Husk’s pupils expand.
He can’t help himself when he leans in and their lips meet, just before coming back to himself in a burst of fear and guilt. Angel pulls away instantly and stumbles backward over the stool, mouth agape in horror.
Oh, shit, he just fucked everything up. Husk’s never gonna want to talk to him again. Angel’s stumbling over his words, trying to find something, anything to say, but Husk beats him to it.
“Do that again”, he breathes.
Angel does a double take. Husk’s expression is serious, pupils blown wide with the slightest blush adorning his cheeks.
There’s no way he heard him right, there’s no way. “You d-“
His sentence is left unfinished when he’s dragged in by a wing, right back into Husk’s space. He’s being kissed. Oh, Satan, he’s being kissed. Husk is kissing him.
And it’s… shockingly gentle. Angel can’t remember the last time he was kissed so gently. He’s kissed hundreds of people, but it’s always stolen from him. He does what he’s told, sits still while they use him however they want, biting and bruising and pulling. He throws in exaggerated moans, whimpers when he knows he should, throws a sultry glance to the cameras. It’s never pleasant. He just does what he’s told. He does what he needs to in order to keep Val happy.
It takes Angel a full ten seconds to realize what’s going on before he kisses back. It’s the most gentle thing he’s ever experienced, but it’s not boring. Far from it. Husk kisses him with so much passion, passion he gets from nobody else. It feels like love.
He can’t help himself from crying again. Husk immediately pulls away, concern lacing his features. “Is that- shit, is this okay? We can stop.”
Angel shakes his head as quickly as his body allows him. “No! No, I just- I can’t remember the last time someone’s kissed me like that.”
Husk quirks an eyebrow.
“That gently”, he specifies. “Nobody asks permission, or how I’m feeling.“
Angel almost regrets saying it when Husk’s expression fills with deep sadness. Guilt, almost, like he wishes he could take it away. Like he wishes he could fix him.
“I’m sorry”, Husk whispers. “Y’don’t deserve all that.”
Angel hums, unsure. After all, he did it to himself, didn’t he?
Husk doesn’t let him dwell on it too much before he’s linking their hands together, fingers intertwining. “You deserve better”, he says before pausing, as if carefully deciding his next words. “Let me show you…?”
Oh.
“Okay”, Angel breathes shakily. “Yeah.”
Before he knows it, Husk is back on him, hands still linked together. Anthony takes the opportunity to loop his other set of arms around his neck, cupping the back of his head.
Husk holds him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. They’re so close now, bodies pressed right up against one another like they’d fall apart without the proximity. Angel thinks maybe he would. He no longer trusts his own legs, shaking beneath him with the weight of just how much he wants this. Husk must be able to sense it, because in an instant, Husk’s picking him up— was he always that strong?— and placing him back on the stool. This way, the height difference isn’t so extreme, and he can slot himself just between Anthony’s legs.
Angel pulls him impossibly closer, desperate for as much contact as possible. In turn, Husk’s wings wrap around the both of them, cocooning them like they’re the only people in the world. Like it’s only them. It always has been only them, really. What else could Angel possibly need?
Angel’s hands run over the curve of his wings, drawing a low groan out of the other, and oh. He’s never heard such a pretty sound before.
He parts his lips just slightly, and Husk takes the chance to slip his tongue into his mouth. Angel practically melts. It’s awkward, for a moment, trying to figure their way around how exactly to do this, but then Angel tilts his head just a bit and it’s perfect. He feels like they were made for this, made to be together. He’s never felt so whole with anyone else. It’s peaceful.
Realizing he was in love with Husk wasn’t a sudden realization, like a strike of lightning. Rather, it had been much more gradual. He remembers meeting gazes from across the room, the small smile that played on Husk’s lips, and the much gentler realization of Oh. Him.
As if it had made sense all along, for him to be in love with the grumpy bartender. It was never going to be anyone else.
Anthony subconsciously moves a hand to scratch at a spot just behind Husk’s ear, pausing when he feels a steady vibration. He thinks he’s imagining it, for a moment, before really stopping to listen. The realization dawns on him, and he pulls away from Husk, who stares at him half-lidded and panting. He grunts in clear displeasure at the fact that they’ve stopped.
“You’re purring”, Angel breathes in awe.
Husk hums.
“I didn’t know y’could purr.”
“Not like I have much reason to ‘round here”, he responds. The purring doesn’t stop. In fact, as Angel moves his hand back to the spot at his ears, it only gets louder. Angel can feel it when they kiss, feel it everywhere they touch.
There’s a satisfaction in knowing this sound, this feeling, is for Angel and Angel only. Nobody else gets to experience Husk like this, open and clingy and gentle. His emotions are laid out on display for him only. This Husk is a stark contrast to the persona he portrays to everyone else. He guards his emotions well, keeping up a facade that not many see through. This Husk is so… vulnerable. So unguarded.
Husk leans their foreheads together, still purring softly. “You alright, baby?”
Angel shivers at the nickname. “Never been better, Whiskers. Didn’t know I made ya that happy”, he teases.
"Don't flatter yourself”, Husk grumbles, but his tail swishes contentedly behind him, betraying his enjoyment.
"Whatever you say," Angel replies coyly. He scratches a bit more firmly, eliciting a rumble of pleasure from Husk.
Husk levels Angel with a glare, though the effect is softened by his dilated pupils and the low vibrations still emanating from his chest. "Keep that up and watch what happens," he threatens, leaning closer into Angel’s space.
Angel tsks. "Sure. We both know you loooooove me.”
Husk growls playfully. "Debatable."
Angel gasps dramatically, placing a hand to his heart. “I can’t believe this, m- ACK!”
Angel is pinned back against the bar counter, successfully shut up as he’s being kissed again. He pushes fruitlessly at Husk's shoulders, watching the way his wings flutter happily, and giggles into the kiss.
“Surrender yet?”
Angel groans. “Fine! I surrender, whatever.”
Husk leans back with a satisfied smirk. “Good boy”, he purrs. The praise sends a shiver running up Angel’s spine, much to his embarrassment. Although, he has little time for embarrassment when he’s being kissed again so suddenly.
He’s, again, reminded of just how different this is. There are no cameras, no need to perform. So he doesn’t.
He listens to the steady rumbling of Husk’s purr, focuses on the feeling of their bodies pressed close, and he feels like Anthony.