Chapter Text
Just like all of the other mood-altering drugs (and then some), caffeine had found its way into the daily lives of Hell’s inhabitants. Much like those still living on the surface, the addicting bitter-sweetness of coffee drinks had the sinners of Hell under lock and key. Husk would say he liked coffee almost as much as he liked alcohol. At least he doesn’t have to worry about getting fired for drinking too much, or harassing the business’s patrons because of its effects...
That's how he found himself employed at Pentagram City’s only Hellbucks. If he could sling hooch, surely he could make a couple of cups of coffee! Though similarly paced, the workday of a barista proved to be much different than that of a bartender. Customers were constantly rushing in to get their fix as quickly as possible and leave with their paper cup without a trace. Rarely did anyone actually use the bar stools and tables for anything other than impatiently awaiting their overpriced macchiato and stale blueberry muffin, let alone sitting and savoring a sip. Husk was intimately familiar with the chatter of drunken souls; perhaps being a suppressant made people open up more under its effects. Then again, most of Hellbucks’ patrons weren't waiting around long enough for Husk to observe the impacts of the stimulant.
Still Husk did his best to fill the role of the ‘bartender.’ He’s a people-pleaser at heart, despite his gruff demeanor and appearance. He enjoyed remembering peoples’ names and their usual drinks; responding to their idle small talk appropriately. He’d almost say he misses people pouring their life-stories out to him across the rim of a glass, but he knows that's just the alcoholism talking.
There was the occasional soul who wound up sitting at the bar with their drink, idly scrolling their phone in between mindlessly chatting with the staff as they swiftly filled orders and called out names. One in particular had Husk eager to clock in for his 8-hour shift, only to spend a few fleeting minutes with the man called “Angel.”
Husk lovingly scrawled the name onto a paper cup, taking the time to carefully loop the letters together with his best cursive and drawing a little heart at the end. He couldn't help himself, blushing as he placed the drink down in front of the tall spider demon. Angel was preoccupied by rapidly scrolling through his social media feed and picking at his teeth with a manicured nail when Husk plopped down his favorite hot drink.
It had only been a few weeks since Husk had started at Hellbucks, but he quickly recognized the taller demon as one of the many regulars that were too lazy to fix their own cup of coffee, instead visiting the shop every morning on their way into work. Angel was different from most regulars in the fact that he often spent several minutes at the counter savoring his drink and, from what Husk could read, savoring the last precious moments before heading to an unsavory shift. Angel hadn't shared much about his personal life with the barista, but years of being a bartender and a gambler had taught Husk how to read people. He noticed the spider’s lingering glances at the clock and at his empty cup, refreshing his news feed again and again hoping for a new, interesting story to populate and give him an excuse for staying. His mood seemed to follow a stable bell curve--beginning with the anxiety of another day before relaxing as he sipped his drink, chatted with staff and patrons, and woke himself up from another restless night--and ending with the same nervous energy of someone who hates their job. Husk knew how that felt.
“Thanks, Whiskers!” Angel beamed before blowing into the hot cup then taking a long sip.
“Don't mention it, and don't call me that,” Husk replied, trying to sound more agitated than he actually was as he gestured to the large nametag on his apron that read “HUSK” in bold letters. He averted his eyes from focusing on the other sinner’s pursed lips as he led the cup to his mouth.
“Mmmhhh hmm! You sure do make the best cappuccino, Husky! I can't believe I've been coming here all these years and you just finally arrived! Where the Hell were they keepin’ ya?!” Angel exclaimed, licking the milk foam from his upper lip.
Husk watched from his peripherals, glad he averted his gaze. Hearing the buzz of the receipt printer spitting out another order, he sighed and ripped the tape from the machine, reading the order quickly before getting to work on the beverage, happy that it was a mobile order; (meaning more time to focus on Angel.)
“Well, for one, nobody’s been keeping me anywhere, I used to work at a bar before I got- started working here, and second, I spent some time in Italy when I was topside... had to learn to replicate that shit,” Husk explained. He was abruptly interrupted by Angel exclaiming in Italian and leaning over the bar closer to Husk, exposing more of his voluptuous chest fluff.
“You've been to Italy!? That's amazing! What's it like? I’ve always wanted to go! Never been, you'd think otherwise growing up a mafioso, but I was never good enough to meet one of the head Dons. Nonna used to make the most delicious food...” Angel explained passionately.
Husk completed the mobile order and stuck the sticker to the cup, shouting the name on the ticket before turning back to Angel who proudly prattled on about his Italian heritage. Husk hadn't meant to talk about his time alive, being that it was cliche to do so in most social circles in Hell, but seeing how happy it made the demon across from him had Husk wanting to pour his whole, dead heart out.
Husk decided to test his luck - a decision he was apt to make.
“Hey, Angel, how would you like to, uh, talk some more sometime outside of work? Do you get a day off?” Husk asked cautiously.
Angel cut short his sentence about Lasagna and smirked, savoring the last sip of his coffee.
“Are you inviting me out on a date, Babycakes?” Angel cooed, batting his lashes.
Husk blushed, ignoring the sound of another order printing out on the machine behind him.
“Uh, no, not... not necessarily. Well, fuck. Yes... Would you entertain the idea of going on a date with me? N-nothin’ fancy, just wanna talk to you... get to know you more...” Husk inquired, momentary confidence quickly fading.
Angel grinned and caressed his own chin in mock thoughtfulness.
“Hmm, sure, Husky! I like talkin’ to ya! I don't have a regular day off, but I'm not working again until tomorrow evening. You got anything going on after your shift tonight?” Angel asked, nonchalantly reapplying his lipstick and powder as he gazed at himself in a small compact mirror.
Husk gulped. He hadn’t expected him to agree, let alone want to see him tonight!
“I ain't doing much ‘cept coming here, drinking booze, and sleeping, so tonight works for me,” the cat demon said, attempting to regain his composure as he returned his attention to the tickets printing out at a rapid pace... Probably a Gravehhub order...
Husk sighed and ripped the paper off of the printer, taping it to the side of his workstation and putting a napkin down on the counter. Angel looked confused for a moment as Husk uncapped his Sharpie and scrawled something on it - a phone number!
He pushed the napkin over to Angel as if it offended him, blush intensifying as he whipped around to begin the massive delivery order.
“Call me when you get off, or whenever ya want, and I'll come pick you up,” Husk grumbled, barely audible over the sound of grinding coffee beans and blenders.
Angel grabbed the napkin, typing the number into his phone before tucking the paper into his chest fluff.
“Sounds great, Kitten, see you later!” Angel called out, blowing a kiss and getting up swiftly, turning away before Husk could protest against the nickname as he spun back around.
A shaking claw reached to collect the empty coffee cup and trash, halting as the barista noticed the lipstick markings on the back of the cup - a large lip stain and a phone number. The cat demon grinned stupidly and returned to his previous task, only to be startled by his coworker looking at him with a knowing glare and holding out a bag containing all of the food items and accessories for the Gravehub order. Her gaze shifted from his face, to the lipstick-covered cup, and back.
“You still gotta make the drinks, hurry up,” she grinned and shoved the bag into his hands, turning back toward the several other employees that had all paused to stare back at Husk. She gave them a thumbs up and they all smiled at the cat demon and began to clap and cheer.
“Whoo! Go get ‘em, Husk!”
“Atta boy!”
“You’ll do great! You got this!”
Encouragement flowed from his colleagues who were all but oblivious to Husk's huge crush on their regular customer. They'd all been pushing him for days to finally ask the man out.
Husk felt his face explode, smoke rising from his ears, dizzy with embarrassment, as he did his best to ignore them and make the next drinks as fast as demonly possible.
This was going to be a long shift...