Work Text:
“Pour me a cup. Strongest shit you’ve got.”
Husk looked up from the countertop he’d just wiped clean to see a run-down looking Angel Dust staring back at him. There were dark circles visible under his eyes and his arms were crossed over his fluffy, disheveled chest.
“Good evening to you, too,” Husk griped back as he brought out a bottle from underneath the counter. “Rough day at the studio?”
Angel sighed and ran a pair of hands down his face. “It wasn’t anything I haven’t done before; it was just a lot, I guess.” He rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair back from his forehead, hands resting to rub at the back of his neck. “I dunno what kind of viewer feedback Val’s lookin’ at to warrant doin’ the same kinda content for the last week, but I don’t think that waterboarding shit is as sought-after as he thinks it is.”
Husk chuckled and poured a hefty dose of alcohol into a glass and slid it in front of Angel, the caramel-colored liquid shimmering in the lights of the bar. “Not to, uh, ‘yuck anyone’s yum,’ but you’d be surprised. Freud’s polymorphous perversity, or whatever.”
It was Angel’s turn to laugh at Husk’s comment. He rested his chin in his palm and slid the glass of booze closer to himself but didn’t drink right away. “Never would have clocked Mr. Husker as a big psychology buff,” he teased, tracing a gloved finger around the edge of the glass.
“Didn’t anybody teach you not to judge a book by its cover?” Husk quipped back, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. He tapped on the counter next to the glass still sitting entirely full in front of the spider demon. “Now drink up. I gotta close up shop.”
“Aww, Whiskers, you’re tryin’ to kick me out?” Angel pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and batting his eyes for good measure.
“Absolutely. Now come on, I got better things to do tonight.”
Angel stuck his tongue out at Husk and held three middle fingers in his smiling face as his fourth arm tipped his glass back to down the drink in one swallow. He planted the cup down and breathed a sigh of relief as the burn of the drink down his throat washed away the tension built up in his shoulders. The relief was entirely short-lived—the end of his sigh was punctuated with a harsh hiccup that burned in his throat, and a hand instinctively clapped against his lips as his eyes widened in surprise.
Husk raised an eyebrow in Angel Dust’s direction, noticing the color that had drained from his face the instant his hand covered his mouth. “‘Scuse you,” he muttered, eyeing the way Angel’s lower pair of arms had begun protectively wrapping themselves around his midsection. “You feelin’ alright?”
“Oh, y-yeah,” Angel replied hastily with a nod, but his voice didn’t convey the reassurance his words were suggesting. He also didn’t seem eager to move his hand very far away from his mouth. “The, uh… the liquor just doesn’t seem to be sittin’ as well as it usually does.”
“Thought you knew how to handle your alcohol,” said Husk, but his comment held more concern than it did bite. Angel didn’t reply or even react to Husk’s comment; there was a slight tremor in the hand curled against his lips, and the furrow of his brows conveyed a kind of anxiety Husk didn’t often see in Angel’s features.
Husk wasn’t stupid—he’d spent enough time bartending to recognize the outwards signs of nausea and the fruitless efforts one took to try and hide it. Judging by the bobbing motions in Angel’s throat, he was probably already pretty close to losing a battle with his own stomach tonight.
“Hey,” Husk called softly, trying to get Angel to snap out of his stupor. “You don’t look so hot. It’s late and I want to close up already. Why don’t you go call it a night?”
Angel seemed to be brought back to reality now, and he looked more tired than anything as he locked eyes with Husk. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I’m clockin’ out. Thanks for waitin’ up for me tonight.” Husk took the empty glass from the counter and cleaned it off, eyeing the slowness in the way Angel gripped the counter to stand up from his barstool. He suddenly belched deeply into a tight fist, gave a mumbled “pardon,” and walked briskly in the direction of his hotel room.
General life experience let Husk jump to the conclusion that he knew how tonight would end for Hazbin Hotel’s own Angel Dust, but he figured it might be best to give him a bit of privacy for his own sake. He took longer than usual to wipe down the counter and even wiped down the barstools for good measure. Tonight seemed like the right night to tidy up behind the bar—maybe it was time to finally rid himself of the empty bottles collecting dust from previous nights binge-drinking himself to sleep.
Husk probably spent close to half an hour doing mindless tasks at the bar before finally calling it a night and heading to his room. The trek there was much quieter than it usually was for the hotel’s barkeep. He and Angel had fallen into a comfortable routine of Husk waiting for Angel after work and sharing a drink and a chat before bed, and this was the first time in weeks they hadn’t walked to their respective rooms as a pair.
It was mildly concerning to Husk seeing Angel so muted against his own will when he’d finally escaped the daily clutches of work, and Husk couldn’t let go of the feeling that he had to make sure he was okay. Angel Dust’s room was on the way to his; it probably wouldn’t hurt to make sure he didn’t double-die on his own tonight.
Husk gently knocked on Angel’s door to avoid bursting in unannounced, but to Husk’s surprise, the door moved inwards at his touch. “Angel?” Husk called, albeit quietly to avoid attracting the attention of anyone else who may have still been awake. “You holding up alright in there?”
No reply. The door wasn’t fully closed, though—Husk could easily just step inside of his own volition. It wouldn’t be considered breaking and entering if it was done for the safety of the hotel’s tenants, would it?
Sorry, Charlie. He’d have to justify his sin of invasion of privacy to the princess of hell, but that was a problem for another day. Husk pushed Angel’s decorated door open and stepped inside.
The large pink bed in the center of the room had certainly recently been lain in, sheets rumpled in the corner and pillows mushed against the headrest. Angel Dust and Fat Nuggets were nowhere to be seen, but the sudden coughing sounds from the unclosed bathroom door told Husk that his prediction for how Angel’s night would end might not have been far off.
Husk padded across the bedroom to the bathroom and repeated the process of knocking and making himself known, but he was cut off by a panicked plea from Angel Dust behind the door.
“W-wait, don’t come in!” Angel called weakly. “I’m—urp—I d-don’t want you to see me like this.”
Husk felt a twinge of sympathy in his chest in hearing Angel retching behind the door and the concerned oinks from Fat Nuggets hearing his owner in discomfort.
“Angel Dust, I would usually respect your wish for privacy, but I’m comin’ in whether you like it or not.”
Husk ignored the complaints against him and stepped into Angel’s bathroom to find him curled up, completely miserable, on the floor. He’d shed his formal clothes in favor of an oversized sweater and thigh-high fuzzy socks, and one pair of arms was steadying himself against the porcelain toilet while the other wrapped around his middle. Sweat was soaked into his fur, and he was visibly trembling just from sitting up. Fat Nuggets was snorting and looking between the two as if to signal to Husk to please help, and a trail of sick running down the side of the otherwise shining white porcelain told Husk that Angel lost his bodily battle much sooner than he had anticipated. It broke Husk’s heart to see him like this.
“Angel,” Husk cooed as he crouched down to Angel’s level, being careful not to touch or draw attention to the mess on the tiled floor. He gently held Angel’s face in both hands and found his skin hot to the touch, a sure sign that fever was likely making him feel much worse than he originally suspected. Angel let his eyes slip shut and leaned into Husk’s touch, a labored exhale falling from his lips. The sharp smell of vomit was thick on his breath.
“M’sorry, Whiskers,” Angel mumbled. “I—“ he swallowed thickly around his next words “—I didn’ want you ta have to see this.”
“I’m a bartender and a drunkard. I’ve seen and experienced far worse.” That got a tired smile from Angel, which was all Husk was going for. He let his hands fall from Angel’s face to instead rest against his knee. “Lean up against the bathtub. Let’s get your area cleaned up.”
Angel did as he was told. Husk retreated into the bedroom to grab one of the fluffy blankets balled up at the foot of Angel’s bed and came back to drape it over Angel’s slender, trembling shoulders. He dug around in the cabinet under the sink and found a plethora of cleaning products that Niffty had likely stashed, but he only grabbed what he needed to hastily wipe down the soiled toilet and floor. It didn’t take long for the vomit to be gone, and by the time Husk was finished Angel had seemingly nodded off against the bathtub. His eyes had slipped shut once more, brows furrowed as his labored breathing failed to even out against his shivering. Both pairs of arms were tugging on the blanket to wrap as much of its warmth as possible around him, and a third pair had at some point appeared to pull his legs closer to his body. Fat Nuggets snuffled against Angel’s ankle and crawled into his lap, shuffling under the warm blanket to rub up against Angel’s belly.
Husk found a glass under the sink he’d since filled with water, and he patted Angel’s knee to stir him awake to get him to drink. It took a little longer than Husk would have hoped, and when he did wake, the glassy, vacant look in his eye made Husk regret the decision to wake him up at all. “Scooch over—you can go back to sleep in a minute.” Angel shifted away from the wall to leave room for Husk to sit next to him, and once seated Husk held out the cup of water for Angel to take. “Drink up, you’re probably dehydrated.”
Angel’s hand trembled around the glass, and Husk made the instant executive decision not to let go. Instead, he helped guide the glass up to Angel’s lips; the second his lips touched the glass, he was gulping greedily in an effort to rehydrate his system. “Woah, woah, slow down—we don’t want that shit comin’ back up,” Husk chided. Angel had downed the full glass anyway; he came up panting for air when the glass was drained and slumped against Husk’s shoulder, energy immediately depleted again. Husk placed the glass on the floor and wrapped an arm around Angel’s shoulders, paw gently rubbing up and down his upper arm for comfort.
“Hold on,” Angel mumbled. “Lemme lay down. Room’s spinnin’.” He moved to lay his head in Husk’s lap and curled in on himself under the fluffy blanket, Fat Nuggets squealing in protest at having been moved. Husk repositioned himself to let him lay comfortably and started slowly running his fingers through Angel’s hair. His other hand cupped around one of Angel’s peeking out from under the blanket.
“Were you feeling bad all day?” Husk asked. “Or did it just hit ya all of a sudden?”
Angel groaned and rolled over to face Husk when he spoke, but he kept his eyes closed to fight the vertigo plaguing his vision. Fat Nuggets didn’t seem keen on being repeatedly moved around and nudged the bathroom door open to leave. “Stomach felt like shit all day, but I thought I just ate somethin’ that didn’t agree with me.” Husk eyed the way he was using the heel of his hand to carefully massage circles into his stomach. “Completely hit me like a train at the bar, though.”
“And you thought an alcoholic beverage was gonna settle your stomach?”
Angel glared weakly at Husk and reached up to rub underneath his chin, which elicited an involuntary mrrp and purr from the cat demon he was currently laying on. Husk hated displaying his catlike characteristics, but he’d let it slide for the spider demon currently fighting metaphorical demons. He’d probably make him pay when he wasn’t double-dying in his lap. “I never said it was a good idea,” Angel bit back.
Husk let Angel’s hand stay where it was on his chin, but he didn’t let him get away with it and gave him the finger between purrs anyways. Angel replied with two fingers back in his face.
Husk brushed Angel’s hair away from his face and placed his paw over the hand rubbing circles on Angel’s stomach. Husk knew his own body temperature ran warm, and he didn’t miss the way Angel’s shoulders relaxed at the heat in his paw chasing away the sickly cramping shooting through his belly. “How many times have you hurled?” he asked.
Angel pulled his hand away from Husk’s chin and rubbed his eyes instead to think about his answer. “I mean… technically only once.”
“How the hell do you only technically vomit?”
“I mean technically I only physically brought shit up once. When you came in it was just gaggin’, and not the fun kind.” That got an eyeroll out of Husk and a smug grin out of Angel. Angel rolled over again so his body faced Husk’s and took to petting the fur on his stomach, eliciting a steady purring from the cat demon to fill the silence.
They stayed like that for a while, Husk playing with Angel’s hair and Angel petting Husk’s fur to keep himself distracted. Husk was about to suggest they move to the bed to get Angel comfortable when he suddenly shot up with a hand close to his mouth. Husk was caught off guard by the sudden movement; he and Angel stayed frozen in that position for a few seconds, the latter’s throat bobbing with repeated swallows before belching, sudden and wet, into his palm. Husk snapped out of his stupor and started gently guiding Angel towards the toilet.
Angel gripped the edge to stay steady, immediately gagging over the water in the bowl. Husk held on to one of his trembling shoulders to keep him both stable and grounded, and when Angel’s hand started searching for Husk’s paw, he held it tightly to let him know he was right there with him.
A strong heave tensed all the muscles in Angel’s body and he was suddenly heaving up the water he’d drunk earlier. Husk ran his paw up and down Angel’s spine as he repeatedly coughed into the bowl and burped up mouthfuls of stomach acid; his own stomach turned, not out of disgust but out of sympathy for the misery Angel’s body was putting him through.
Heaves turned into gags turned into coughs, but Angel wasn’t bringing up anything more than the excess spit still flooding his mouth. “I’m—this is so gross,” he ground out between gags. “Sorry you—you have to see this.”
“Don’t worry about it, Legs,” Husk reassured. He kept running his paw down Angel’s spine and felt the muscles in his back tense with every dry heave. Nothing was coming up, but Angel wouldn’t stop gagging into the bowl. “C’mon now, I think you’re all empty.”
Angel responded with more harsh gags into the toilet. “Ca—can’t stop,” he whimpered. “H—hurts.” One of his hands was getting itself tangled in his already disheveled hair, and he couldn’t breathe without gagging after every exhale. He was crying now, tears running down his already sweat-soaked cheeks and into the soiled water below, and Husk’s heart ached.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Husk tried to be as soothing as possible, but he wasn’t sure how convincing he sounded. “Take a deep breath, getting all worked up is gonna make it worse.”
Slowly but surely, with repeated reassurances from Husk, the dry heaving tapered out into exhausted panting. Angel kept holding on to the toilet seat for stability and sat back on his heels, leaning forward to rest his feverish forehead on the cool porcelain. Husk reached out to flush away the evidence and refilled the glass with water. He wasn’t sure if Angel would be able to hold it down, but it was better than keeping his stomach completely empty. “Take small sips,” Husk advised. “I’ll take you to bed.”
Angel grinned despite himself and sniffled, shifting his head to look at Husk. “Bold ask from Mr. Whiskers to lil’ old me,” he teased, voice raw from vomiting. He eyed the glass and frowned, lower pair of arms wrapping around his still roiling stomach. “I’ll jus’ bring it back up.”
“You don’t know that for sure; I’ll put a trash can next to your head if you’re worried about making a mess. ‘Sides, you need to get something in your stomach so you don’t dehydrate and die.”
“M’already dead.”
“Just drink the goddamn water.”
Angel pouted, but he reached out for the glass anyways. Husk had to help him hold on to the cup again, and he watched him take a few tentative sips before pushing the glass back to Husk.
Husk helped Angel to his feet and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him upright; Angel swayed and gripped Husk’s shoulder like a lifeline. It took quite a bit of effort to guide the tall, lanky demon to his bed without him tripping over his own feet, but once they reached the bed Angel was immediately crawling under the blankets for a semblance of warmth. Husk moved the tiny trashcan in his room closer to the head of Angel’s bed. He had planned to bring back the glass of water when he suddenly felt a hand on his wrist. He turned to find a pair of watery eyes staring back at him from a pile of pink sheets and blankets.
“Can you…” Angel hesitated. He averted his eyes, and Husk could swear he heard the gears turning in his head. “Can you sleep here with me tonight? Nothin’ sexy, I promise.”
Something warm bloomed in Husk’s chest, and he couldn’t help the soft smile creeping up on his face. “Of course. Let me just bring you water in case you need it.”
Husk brought back the cup he’d left on the bathroom counter, and he returned to find that Angel Dust was already asleep. He crawled into bed as carefully as he could to not rouse him, but the second he was fully horizontal Angel had immediately shifted to lay his head on top of Husk’s chest.
“What’re you doing?”
“Yer warm,” was Angel’s sleepy reply, muffled by his face being smashed against Husk’s fur. Husk rolled his eyes but didn’t move him away. He began petting Angel’s hair again, partly to soothe him to sleep and partly to gauge his fever. It hadn’t gone down much, if at all, from when Husk first found him on the bathroom floor. That probably wasn’t a good sign, but Husk reasoned that it was likely Angel would pull through given that they were already in hell.
Husk couldn’t help the purrs rumbling through his chest as he played with Angel’s hair, but he didn’t mind nor try to stop it. When Angel inevitably woke up hours later to throw up the water he drank and more dregs of stomach acid, Husk was there to rub his back and tell him it was okay. When Angel crumpled into Husk’s embrace and feverishly wept over how nauseous he felt and how much everything hurt, Husk was there to wipe his tears and wrap his wings around them both to make Angel feel comfortable. It was late and they were both exhausted, but Husk didn’t care.
He’d do it a thousand times over if it meant Angel Dust felt safe in his arms.