Archive of Our Own

Angel flops down on the bar dramatically and throws an arm up over his face. »Harder Daddy.«

»Excuse me?« Husk says flatly and puts down the glass he’s been polishing because there’s fuck else to do.

The spider demon opens exactly one eye to peer at him. »The drink, Whiskers.«

Right. Husk doesn’t actually know how to make any of that new shit, but by the look of it Angel won’t care what he serves him as long as it’s strong. »Rough night?« he asks while pulling various bottles from the shelf.

»And rough day and rough week, to be honest.«

It must have been, since he’s barely been getting all up in Husk’s personal space. »Wanna talk about it?«

With a sigh Angel rolls from the bar and sits down on one of the chairs instead, though he still has two of his arms over his head. »Not really.«

Husk hums his agreement – the last thing he wants is for Angel to have to relive whatever shit Valentino did, if he doesn’t think talking will help. The dark circles under his eyes are deep enough already.

When Husk slides a glass over the counter, Angel finally looks up. Takes a careful sip. »Hm. Not a Harder Daddy.« Then he downs the rest in one go. »’S good, though. Another?«

Since he can’t really judge Angel for trying to drown his problems in alcohol, Husk sets about mixing another drink.

Behind him, Angel sighs. »It’s like… Val recently got really into electrocution – wonder how he got that idea, ha! – and now it’s…« He hesitates. »He’s testing the limits, I guess. They only stopped today because my fur started smoking and they can’t have it, like, catch fire. Wouldn’t make for a good movie if I’m bald. Or maybe it would but Val's just not into it. I don't fuckin' know.«

Every time Angel talks about the shit being done to him on a daily basis, Husk wonders how he can speak about it with so little emotion in his voice. But recently he’s realised that is probably the only way Angel can speak about it – because if he lets himself feel how horrible his situation really is, he’d probably break down completely.

Wordlessly, Husk slides two more drinks over the bar.

Angel gives him a small smile, then exes the first. He takes a little more time with the second, drinking tiny sips and staring at an indentation in the bar where Niffty tried to spear a roach with a knife.

»Anyways!« he says so suddenly that Husk almost jumps out of his skin. The can’t-be-bothered voice is back in full force. »How was your day, sugar?«

»Boring.« Alastor hasn’t really been around. The most exciting thing was Niffty creating a puppet show with roach corpses – the sight was horrific, sure, but the plot was actually not too bad.

»Ugh, I wish I had a boring day for once.« Angel has finished the third drink, but instead of asking for another he just reaches past Husk to grab a bottle of pure whiskey.

Now he does feel the need to say something. »You sure another drink is a good idea?«

»Yep,« Angel replies and takes a big gulp. »Best case, I forget today. Worst case…« His eyes take on an absent look.

Husk can’t even begin to imagine what ›worst case‹ looks like for Angel. He surprises himself by speaking. »Did you know I used to play the saxophone?«

Angel gapes at him.

»When I was alive.« Maybe he shouldn’t have said this. Heat rises to his face, but luckily no one will see him blush beneath the fur.

Angel blinks. »Well, ya can’t just stop there! Tell me more!«

Husk would rather not, but then he looks up into Angel’s eyes, which shimmer with excitement despite the deep circles under them, and he can’t help continuing. »Yeah. I was quite known in Las Vegas. Both for my playing, and my magic shows. Good times.« Husk starts polishing another glass so his hands have something to do and he doesn’t have to look at Angel – whose attention makes his face heat up even more. »You wouldn’t believe at how many weddings I played. Y’know, all the couples with their spontaneous Vegas weddings, who didn’t have the time to hire a real band. I made quite a few bucks.«

Angel is uncharacteristically quiet, as if he’s afraid to break the spell and make Husk stop talking. But Husk can still feel his eyes, even though he doesn’t meet them.

»At one of the weddings, they asked me to also do a magic show. Wanted me to make the bride disappear, and then reappear for the vows. But backstage she told me she actually didn’t really like the guy. So I put her in a taxi and made a dove reappear instead, then told the would-be husband the trick must have gone wrong. He was fucking pissed. I did not get the second half of my pay.«

Angel chuckles.

Husk looks up, meets his eyes, and immediately regrets it, because now he can’t look away again. Angel’s gaze is so soft, genuinely amused, his expression open. And damn, if Husk isn’t attracted to him right now. Wait, what? Where did that thought come from?

»Did you ever see her again?«

»Huh?«

»The woman you helped,« Angel clarifies, but his smile widens into something more mischievous.

Husk clears his throat and finally manages to look away. »Oh, yeah. She hired me to play at her actual wedding. One of my few jobs outside Vegas. She was a very good tipper.«

With a laugh, Angel takes another large swig from the bottle he swiped. »I’d hire ya to play at my weddin’,« he says.

For some reason, that makes Husk’s mood drop. »Uh-huh. And who would you be marrying?«

»Well,« Angel says and the smile on his face falters and by the look of it the question brought him back to the present, where his soul belongs to Valentino and he can’t marry anyone, even if he wants to and fuck, Husk fucked up.

»Shit, Angel, I’m sorry.«

»Nah. You’re right. I’m not really husband material.« His tone is irreverent. The voice he uses in public, the one that says ›nothing can hurt me‹.

But Husk knows he just did. »Let me–«, he starts, but Angel raises a hand.

»I think Imma go to my room now. Need my beauty sleep.« He tries to stand and Husk more or less dives over the bar to catch him before he simply falls flat on his face.

Angel sighs. »You can let go, Whiskers. I’ll manage.«

»There’s no way you’ll get up the stairs like this,« Husk says and carefully places one of Angel’s arms over his shoulder, before gently taking hold of his waist.

»Then I’ll sleep on the couch.«

»Bullshit.«

They stare at each other for a moment, Angel frowning, Husk determined. Finally, Angel sighs again. »Fine.« But when he leans on Husk fully, he catches a slight smile on the spider demon’s face.

Together, they make it up the stairs and down the hall to Angel’s room, before Angel murmurs, »Sleep with me.«

Husk freezes, one hand on the doorknob, the other still on Angel’s waist. That’s not the tone of voice the other demon usually reserves for this kind of request, but still Husk bristles. »No.«

»Aw, y’know ya want to.« Angel opens the door himself and pulls Husk one step into the messy room.

»You’re drunk.«

»Pah! Could a drunk man do this?« Angel squirms himself out of Husk’s grip and promptly falls into a heap of clothes on the floor.

»No,« Husk says flatly. »A drunk man could not do whatever you just attempted, and neither could you, because you’re drunk.« Still, he bends down and helps Angel into the large bed with the soft pink sheets. Tucks him in, clothes and all. »Good night, Angel.« He turns to go.

»Wait.« Angel’s voice is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. It sounds very small. »Stay. Please. If you want to. I– I don’t want to be alone.«

Husk’s heart does a painful leap and he turns back around. Angel looks so vulnerable, eyes averted, blanket drawn up to his chin. He would have thought after today Angel would like nothing more than to be alone.

»Sorry I asked. It’s okay. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. G’night, Husk.«

Fuck. Husk lets himself sink down at the very edge of the bed and Angel’s eyes widen. »It’s alright, Angel. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.«

»Oh.«

Husk half lays down, then looks to Angel. »Is this okay?«

Instead of an answer, Angel lifts the blanket a bit, and Husk takes the cue to shift closer. Still, he’s careful not to accidentally touch Angel, until the other demon throws two arms over him and burrows his face in Husk’s chest.

»You’re warm,« he says in a muffled voice. »’S nice.«

Husk commands his heart to beat slower, then puts a careful arm over Angel. And, a moment later, drapes his wing over the other demon for good measure, cutting them both off from the city lights shining through the window.

Angel blinks up at him, eyes glowing. »It’s like being in a cocoon.« That’s all he says, but there's a sense of safety in the words, and a quiet wish to emerge as someone – or something? – else.

Reflexively, Husk’s arm tightens around Angel. He has the sudden urge to just pick him up and fly far, far away. But he knows it's a useless fantasy, that he’s no knight in shining armour, and there’s nothing he can do.

»Thank you,« Angel whispers, eyelids already drooping.

And maybe Husk was wrong. This is what he can do: just be there for Angel when he needs it. It’s not enough, but it certainly is a fuck-ton better than nothing.

»It’s alright, Legs. No need to thank me. I’m happy to stay,« Husk admits.

But Angel has already fallen asleep, snoring quietly, his face buried in Husk’s chest again.

Alright, then. Husk closes his eyes and just listens to him breathe for a while.

At some point, he drifts off himself. He has seldom slept better.