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It’s a day like any other—Charlie is bouncing around with ideas, Vaggie in tow like a lost puppy; Niffty is chasing the Egg Bois and Sir Pentious is trying his best to keep her off them—while Husk snoozes at the bar.
He’s vaguely aware of what’s going on around him due to his better than average hearing, but he’s trying to block it out the best he can.
So it comes as a total surprise when a pair of arms snake around his waist.
His eyes fly open and his fur stands on end, ready to fend off his attacker, but stops when he recognises the spindly pink and white figure.
”Never do that again,” he growls at Angel who lets him go with a pout.
”Aw, but you’re so cuddly.”
Husk flexes his claws in warning. Angel holds up his hands in surrender, taking two steps backwards and rounding the bar to get out of range of Husk’s wrath.
"Could've mistaken you for a teddy bear, there, Husky~"
”I’m no fucking teddy bear.”
His wings twitch in agitation but he stays rooted to the spot. Angel keeps backing away, smiling victoriously.
”Coulda fooled me,” he calls, raising a hand in a wave, and heads for the exit. Husk glares after him, hating that the touch had felt nice.
ooo
Angel tries again, bright and early, when Husk is still blinking away sleep. Before he's had his coffee.
He’s lifted off the ground and spun around. His wings flare out reflexively to steady him, knocking Angel in the face. He’s largely unphased, laughing into the feathers as Husk curses at him to put him down.
His grumbling has much less bite to it while tired and Angel skips away unharmed.
Niffty who had been witness to the exchange beams next to him, holding up her arms to him, and Husk frowns. It’s too early for this.
It becomes a game of cat and mouse where, unfortunately, Husk is the mouse. He’s trying to predict when Angel will strike next, sometimes guessing right and other times missing the mark completely.
Not deterred by his avoidance, Angel tries again until he manages to catch him off guard.
Angel sneaks in a hug to him every day, and Husk is left baffled every time.
ooo
Weeks of being hugged against his will—if you can call it that when he's stopped resisting long ago—comes to an abrupt halt one day.
Husk has been on edge all morning, trying to predict when the inevitable hug will come. Angel has been sitting by him on the couches for an hour, talking about whatever comes to mind, when his phone chimes thrice in quick succession. After glancing at the screen he’s bolting for the door with a hasty goodbye. He isn’t seen for the rest of the day and it isn’t anything out of the ordinary except…
He didn't hug him today.
It's breaking a routine Husk has begrudgingly gotten used to.
The day passes in a daze, working on autopilot and doing whatever is asked of him. Alastor notices his uncharacteristic agreeability, but doesn’t remark on it, which Husk takes as a mercy that’s rarely offered to him.
Angel doesn’t return until early morning and sleeps the day away, no doubt exhausted from whatever Val has put him through.
Once Angel is back on his feet and sipping on a drink at the bar, Husk still cannot stop thinking about the hugs.
Discomfort crawls under his skin and he wishes he wasn’t thinking so selfishly.
He's in desperate need of a hug, but he can’t jusk ask for one. Right ?
ooo
As much as he hates being reduced to his feline appearance, the behaviour he exhibits the following week really doesn’t help his case.
It’s been four days without a hug and Husk has resorted to staring at Angel across the lobby, hoping to convey his request telepathically.
Charlie catches his eye, frowning at his intense stare. Husk huffs and goes back to daydreaming.
When that doesn’t work, he starts standing near him. Standing just inside the bubble of his personal space to make him notice. He slides up next to him mid-conversation with Cherri, silently begging for his touch. Cherri’s judging looks have him pouting and slinking back behind the bar, defeated.
Day nine and he’s acting like a toddler who isn't getting his way. He’d accidentally pushed Angel’s glass off the counter in an attempt to clue him into the reason for his pissy mood.
Angel, however, had cleaned it up for him and apologized for his butter fingers, when it had so clearly not been him but Husk who had dropped the glass.
He screams into his pillow as he gets into bed that night and thinks he will remain starved for Angel’s touch until the end of time.
ooo
”Is he okay? He's been sort of antsy and weird around you.”
Husk has one ear pointed toward the conversation happening between Charlie and Angel across the lobby. He's busying himself by cleaning the already clean glasses. So maybe he hasn't been as subtle as he had hoped, but his skin is on pins and needles and he's slowly going insane. He feels nearly feral.
Angel nods at whatever Charlie says and they part ways, Angel heading straight for him.
Husk wipes the same glass again as Angel sits down in his usual seat. Leaning his elbows on the counter, he assesses him from head to toe, and Husk feels like he can see right through him.
His face is perfectly neutral, betraying nothing, though. His tail swishes agitatedly, the only outward sign of any distress. The counter hopefully hides it from view.
Angel regards him coolly for a moment longer, watching as he starts twitching from the scrutiny. It’s making him uncomfortable to the point that he’s about to break the silence, but Angel beats him to it.
”Can I have my usual?”
Husk sighs through his nose and turns to retrieve the bottles. Making the drink is near therapeutic to the anxiety inducing stand-off.
He slides the glass over and it's a testament to his shot nerves when his reflexes fail. Angel grabs his hand before he can pull it away, holding it gently as if it's something precious worth coveting.
The grip is loose enough that he could easily take his hand back, but the touch is invigorating. It’s as if he’s spellbound, focused on the contact.
”Touch-starved, are we?” Angel asks softly and Husk looks up at him warily. There’s no teasing edge to his eyes, no smirk plastered on his face, just pure sincerity.
Husk nods slowly. Angel runs his thumb over the back of his hand and he feels a purr coming, so he stamps it back down, horrified.
"What's wrong?"
He wants to run, to hide, but every fiber of his being is strung taut and he craves the touch to ground him. ”You stopped hugging me.”
Angel hums and keeps rubbing the back of his hand. Husk hates feeling vulnerable and stupid, and somehow asking for a hug is making him feel like both.
”Do you want a hug?” Angel asks, saying the magic words that he himself is too afraid to.
His throat feels tight, so he nods. Angel pulls away and for a second he panics, thinking Angel is backing away, disgusted at his neediness. That thought is immediately forgotten as he comes up next to him, two pairs of arms in an open invitation, and Husk melts into the touch.
For such a lanky person, Angel is surprisingly soft. Husk grips onto his back, snuggling into his shoulder and breathing in relief.
One hand moves to his head, combing through his hair in soothing motions. The purr comes forth like a dam has broken, vibrating through his chest.
Angel doesn’t mention it, only hugs him tighter, letting him have his fill.
ooo
The routine is re-established and Angel makes sure to give him plenty of hugs to avoid causing another cat-like temper tantrum.
It's another week later, Angel is watching TV in the lounge and Husk is cuddled up to his side, sipping whiskey and enjoying the closeness. Alastor walks by and stops at the sight of the two of them.
He raises a pointed eyebrow, smile widening obscenely. Husk flips him off and takes a swig from his bottle. Staticky chuckling reaches his ears but, fortunately, he leaves them be.
For now, he thinks. The ribbing of a lifetime is inevitable with that bastard around.
Angel scratches at his ear and his eyes fall closed, any tension melting away. Worries forgotten, he lets himself purr with content.