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It’s late, when Angel finally sweeps into the hotel’s lobby.
Husk should have gone to bed. The rest of the hotel’s meager residents had retired ages ago- and Husk always gets particularly cranky when he doesn’t get enough sleep.
But just as he’d been closing up the bar for the night, he’d seen Angel slip out the grand door, his carefully constructed mask cracking at the edges as he listened to someone on his phone. And it didn’t take a detective for Husk to immediately know who it was. Why Valentino would need him so late at night is beyond Husk. But the look in Angel’s eyes was enough to tell Husk that whatever he needed, it wouldn’t bode well for Angel.
Husk had stopped closing up immediately. Heaven knew Angel would be needing a drink when he got back.
And so he’d waited. How could he not have?
He may be powerless to swoop in and save Angel from his contract and his work and his god-forsaken worm of a boss- but he can at least be around for the aftermath.
A sweet gesture, coming from someone who so infrequently lets himself give two shits.
Of course, Angel sees it differently.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Angel spits out as he storms up to the bar upon returning.
“Tending the bar,” Husk replies with a raise of a brow. He bends to retrieve a bottle of his strongest stuff, along with two shot glasses which he puts on the counter.
“I mean, what the fuck are you doing still tending the bar at this time of night?”
Husk doesn’t answer, instead focusing on pouring out two liberal shots.
“Take a seat Angel.”
Angel offers him all four of his middle fingers.
Husk snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes one of the shots toward him. “Sit.”
Angel glowers, but still he takes a seat.
Predictable.
“I don’t need your furry ass staying up for me,” Angel says as he studies the glass, seeming to contemplate before he downs his shot in one swallow.
A small part of Husk wants to smile. He always does, whenever he’s in the presence of this unfiltered Angel.
The man behind the mask.
He just hates that it takes a particularly rough night to show it.
“Who says I stayed up for you? Perhaps I was simply drowning out my own sorrows, and then you happened to burst in.”
The best part is, it’s half true. But then, when is Husk ever not drinking away his feelings?
Angel props his chin on a hand, eyeing his empty shot glass warily. His eyes are dull, without their usual sheen, his expression cold and empty.
Husk pours him another shot.
And so the two of them fall into a relatively comfortable silence. Husk doesn’t ask anything of Angel, and with no one else around to observe, Angel doesn’t give him anything. He remains quiet and reserved, no performance at this particular hour.
Husk aches as he watches him. But he makes no move to ruin the stupor Angel has fallen into.
A few more shots later, and Angel is thoroughly drunk, though not in the way he usually is by day. With others around to observe, when Angel is still wearing his perfectly stitched on mask, Angel’s drunkenness is a thing to be reckoned with. His usual flirts grow positively vile, his small semblance of boundaries and personal space thrown out the window. He grows giddy and loud, every action a sweeping performance, every flirt a desperate plea.
But here, with no one to see- with the weight of exhaustion and the ghost of another lingering on his skin- here, Angel is subdued.
His eyes are glazed over, his head barely kept up by his hand. He gazes at a place somewhere behind Husk, his eyes unfocused, his expression blank.
Gently, Husk pulls the shot glass from Angel’s grip, deciding he’s easily had enough. He turns to clean out both their glasses, putting them away before officially closing up the bar for the night.
Angel makes no move to leave as Husk finishes up, his shoulders hunched and his arms limp at his sides.
Husk swallows back the anger that bubbles to the surface of his skin as he thinks of what exactly Valentino must have put him through tonight to render him so… empty.
Husk shakes his head. There’s time for anger later. But not now, when Angel so clearly needs his help.
“C’mere,” Husk says, gently helping Angel to stand. “Why don’t we head upstairs-“
“I don’t wanna be in a bed,” Angel mumbles back, leaning a bit of his weight onto Husk even as he protests.
Husk counts to five in his mind, allowing himself the pleasure of mentally picturing himself ripping Valentino’s fucking head from his shoulders- and then he begins to guide Angel to the sitting room.
“That’s fine, bed’s are a nuisance anyhow.”
He leads them over to a plush couch, the bright colors dull in the dark of night.
“I don’t suppose you sleep in a cat bed?” The joke is half formed, the teasing tone in Angel’s voice only half there.
But still, Husk’s face breaks into a soft smile.
“Where I sleep is none of your concern,” Husk replies as he eases Angel down onto the cushions.
“Until I’m sleeping there with you.” Angel punctuates his words with a gentle hand trailing down Husk’s furry face. Somehow, the action feels less sultry, and a little more… sweet, almost. A little more desperate.
“Why do I gather that you literally mean to sleep, and not to fuck as you always imply?”
Angel shrugs, dropping his hand as he lays back onto the cushions. “Sleeping is nice too. A little underrated if you ask me. But no one ever pays to have you sleep.”
Husk’s heart breaks just a little bit at his words, at the withdrawn expression on Angel’s face.
I’d pay you a million times over just to have you sleep. Heaven knows you need it.
He pushes the thought and the feelings aside, refocusing on the task at hand.
“Would you like a blanket?” He offers, far kinder than he’s ever been to the lanky boy. Perhaps it’s the way he’s curling up on himself, his knees pulled close to his chest. “A throw pillow for your head-?”
“Stay.”
Husk freezes, his hand halfway to a pillow on the other end of the couch.
“What?”
“You don’t have to,” Angel quickly amends, his arms pulling his knees even closer. “But… if you want to- that is, I-“
Husk steps closer, gently nudging Angel until he lifts his head up, leaving a space free on the couch. Husk slips into the now-empty space at the end of the couch, shifting as he makes himself comfortable.
Angel props himself up and turns, watching him with weary eyes.
“What’re you-?”
“Staying. This couch is far more comfortable than it has a right to be.” Angel’s tired eyes meet his. Husk pats his leg. “C’mon, lay back down princess. I know you’re exhausted.”
Angel looks as though he’s about to decline, his eyes narrowing in distrust- when suddenly something crosses over his face, his expression resigned, and he’s gently laying himself back down, his head resting on Husk’s thigh.
Husk bites back a smile, lowering one hand to carefully run his claws through Angel’s disheveled hair. The boy stiffens at the contact at first, but before Husk can pull away he’s melting into the touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he shifts to make himself more comfortable.
Faintly, Husk wonders when the last time someone touched Angel so gently was.
They stay this way for a long while, so long that Husk has just about decided that Angel has actually fallen asleep, when suddenly the demon speaks, his voice breaking the silence of the night.
“Thank you. For…” Angel swallows.
“I know,” Husk replies, not wanting to watch as Angel forces himself to say it. “Anytime.”
Angel nestles his head closer, his knees curling up to his chest as he mumbles, “Would you mind not.. mentioning this to anyone?”
Husk barks out a laugh, though he suddenly regrets it as he watches as Angel flinches.
He smooths back the demon’s hair, his voice growing soft. “Oh Angel, who would I have to tell?” Husk swallows down the rage that burns in his chest from before, his eyes darkening with hatred that he does his best to bury. “But even if I did have someone to tell, I won’t. I promise.”
Angel offers a weak smile before he turns his head and nuzzles his face into Husk’s thigh. Husk’s heart skips a beat in his chest.
“Thank you,” Angel repeats, his voice lost in the fabric of Husk’s pants.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies, resuming his petting as Angel slowly relaxes into him, a quiet hum voicing his contentment.
Before long, the demon seems to fall asleep, his breathing evening out, his tension bleeding from his body. So much weight carried on those shoulders when he’s awake. Husk wants to rip Valentino to shreds.
But he can’t. Not now, anyway. Angel and Husk are both bound to their particular contracts, and while Husk would give anything to tear Angel’s to pieces- would even sell his soul once more if it meant freeing Angel- he knows that for now, at least, his hands are tied. The most he can offer the demon is a little rest and relaxation, a quiet place to lay his head after a hellish night in hell.
And with those thoughts swirling in the confines of Husk’s mind, he leans his head back onto the couch, finally letting his own exhaustion bleed over him, now that his work is officially done.
Just before he drifts off into his own land of sleep, he can’t help but note the warm that rest in his chest, the feeling of Angel curled up at his side causing his heart to pound just a little bit faster, his skin to feel a little bit warmer.
He wonders then, if it makes him particularly terrible to enjoy this so much, knowing that Angel is only being so docile since he’s feeling so broken. He wonders if it makes him just as bad as Valentino, for cherishing this version of Angel, unclothed in spirit as he rests upon his thigh.
The thoughts eat away at his conscious, guilt beginning to gnaw at his heart-
But then Angel shifts in his sleep, letting out a quiet whimper as his face scrunches in discomfort- and Husk is caressing his cheek, moving to brush the worry lines from his brow, and just like that Angel’s expression smooths out, and he’s nuzzling closer to Husk, practically half in his lap now- and Husk’s chest is expanding, the flicker in his chest growing into a blaze-
And suddenly, with the rage and the care that bubble under his skin, Husk realizes that no, he and Valentino are not the same.
They’re not the same at all.