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The hotel was quieter than usual, a hush that felt unnatural. Angel Dust padded softly through the dimly lit hallways, his arms folded over his chest, his boots barely making a sound against the floor. Usually, he thrived in the noise, the teasing and the laughter, the spotlight on him.. Tonight… tonight was different.
He tilted his head. “Huh,” he murmured, almost to himself. Normally, Husk would be grumbling over some spilled drink or cleaning the counter with exaggerated annoyance. But now? Silence..
Curiosity—or maybe the desperate need for… anything—pushed him forward. He paused, halfway to the bar, then continued, eyes flicking to the dark silhouette behind the counter. Husk. The way the lamplight hit his feathers, the slump of his shoulders, the slow, deliberate movements—it was hypnotic. Almost.
Angel cleared his throat, forcing his usual smirk into place.
“Whiskers, huh? Busy night?” His voice was lighter than he intended. Husk looked up, his yellow eyes meeting Angel’s. That single glance was enough to make Angel’s chest tighten.
Husk raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but not unkind. “You’re up late.”
Angel leaned against the counter, arms now resting, his usual playful grin faltering just slightly. “Yeah… can’t sleep.”
There was a beat of silence, heavy, loaded. Husk studied him, the way he always did, with that uncanny ability to see past the performance Angel put on for everyone else. Tonight, Angel wasn’t performing. Tonight, he was… exposed.
“I… I dunno,” Angel muttered, his voice quieter, less sure, almost breaking. “I feel like… all I’m good for is… y’know. The body. The show. And even then… does it matter? Why bother?”
Husk’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly forward, not saying anything, letting Angel spill. The tremor in Angel’s hands, the slump of his shoulders, the tiny quiver in his voice—it tugged at something in Husk that he usually kept buried under gruffness and cynicism.
“I mean—look at me,” Angel whispered, almost desperate now, voice cracking. “I… I don’t even see the point anymore. Nobody really sees me. They see… this. This shell. This joke. And even if I let ‘em close… what’s the point? They’ll leave. They always do.”
Husk shifted closer, feathers brushing against the edge of the bar, his voice soft, quiet, firm. “Kid… you’re wrong.”
Angel blinked, almost startled by Husk’s gentleness. “I… I’m not wrong, though. Look at me. Look at all of me. Nobody… nobody really gives a damn. I mean—hell, you’re just bein’ polite.”
Husk snorted softly but didn’t pull back. “Don’t. Don’t sell yourself short, Angel. You think I don’t notice? All the walls you put up? I see ‘em. And behind ‘em? There’s a damn good person, one that deserves to be seen.”
Angel’s eyes lifted and met his, a shiver running down his spine. His voice was small, shaky. “Husky… I don’t… I don’t know how to… I don’t even know how to believe that. I’m… I’m scared, alright? Scared that… that I’m just… nothing. That it doesn’t matter. That—”
He broke off, shoulders shaking, and Husk’s clawed hands were on his arms before he even realized. “Hey, hey,” Husk murmured, voice low and steady. “I’ve seen what you do, Angel. I know what you’ve been through. And I’m tellin’ ya—hell or high water, you matter. To me, at least. And that’s a start, yeah?”
Angel choked back a laugh, wet with tears, burying his face into Husk’s shoulder. “I… I don’t deserve you…”
“You don’t get to decide that,” Husk muttered, tugging him closer, feathers brushing warm against fur. “You’re not alone. Not now, not ever.”
They stayed like that for a heartbeat, the world shrinking to the quiet hum of the hotel and the sound of each other’s breath. Then, gently, Husk tilted Angel’s chin up, those golden eyes soft and steady, and kissed him. Slow, deliberate, everything Husk wasn’t usually—tender, grounding, warm.
Angel’s arms tightened around Husk instinctively, finally letting the dam inside him crack open, and Husk held him close, letting the silence speak, letting the comfort wrap around them like a blanket.
When they finally parted, foreheads resting together, Husk murmured, “You’re okay, kid. You’re okay.”
Angel’s chest heaved, tears streaking down his face, but a small, shaky laugh escaped. “Yeah… maybe… with you.”
Husk smirked, feathered hand brushing over the back of Angel’s head. “Yeah. With me.”