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“Uh-oh, whiskers,” Angel said. “Looks like we’re under the mistletoe.”
Husk shot him a look of annoyance before an idea came over him.
“Well, you ain’t wrong, legs. Guess this means I owe you a kiss.”
He took Angel’s gloved hand and bent down, placing a kiss on it delicately. He expected grumbling at how he had cheated. Instead, all he heard was silence. And when he looked up—no, it couldn’t be.
Angel Dust was fucking flustered.
“You alright there, kid?” he asked.
In response, Angel sputtered like a kettle.
“I don’t—I didn’t… what did you…why?”
“I think you broke him!” Niffty said. “Ooh, mistletoe. I’m eating that.”
“Fuck this,” Angel muttered. “I need a goddamn drink.”
“Can’t believe I got you blushin’ like a teenager,” Husk said. “Mister hotshot pornstar.”
“Fuck you,” Angel said, his face still red.
“Something tells me that wouldn’t get you half as bothered.”
Angel trailed off into mumbles as Husk got his drink, trying hard not to laugh. Well, at the very least this should keep him from trying anything with mistletoe again. Funny, that thought was a bit disappointing.