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Nights at the Hotel were few and far between, for Angel. Between his numerous vocations and Valentino's "requests" for his company, more often than not he was busy all night and about halfway through the day, spending the rest of the time blackout drunk and crashing on whatever couch (or street curb) was closest.
The first thing he noticed was that it was quiet. Not that the hotel had been particularly busy since, well, ever... But the hum of its usual residents just existing, even if they weren't particularly loud, had become familiar to him. Wandering the halls like this, Angel almost felt like a ghost. For once, there were no eyes on him.
(Vox has eyes everywhere, a voice in his head reminded him. He ignored it.)
Except... That wasn't-? No- he was right. It wasn't silent. That was music he heard, the soft sound of someone humming along to some sort of... Geez, was that a waltz song? He hadn't heard one of those in forever. Now, who would be humming a waltz at three-fucking-a.m...? Cherri hated anything made before 1970, and Alastor's humming was always clouded with static, ruling him out. It was too low of a tone to be Niffty or Charlie, nor the high notes he'd heard Vaggi gravitate to. As for Lucifer, Angel had never seen the man out of bed before midday.
That left just one person... Angel rounded the corner into the commons to find his suspicions correct. Husk. The bartender was leaning on the counter, flicking a coin over his knuckles at speeds that made it a silver blur. His eyes were half-closed, dark in the dim lights of the bar. For a second, he didn't seem to notice Angel, but a step forward drew his attention, head snapping up. The coin disappeared with a flick of Husk's wrist.
"Waltz music? Really?" Angel sprawled his body across one of the chairs.
Husk shrugged. "Reminiscing on some old memories, I guess. What's got you up this late?"
"I don't need sleep." Angel deadpanned, and Husk laughed. Angel couldn't say he didn't delight in the sound. The song changed and he perked up. "Hey, I know this one!"
"Wouldn't'a clocked you for a fan of the classics." The bartender came to rest his head on his wrist, tilting his head like he was sizing Angel up. Oh, this would be fun.
"Well, it's what I grew up with." Angel grinned languidly.
Husk raised his eyebrows. "You're older than I thought."
"You're exactly as old as you look." Angel teased.
"If you're here to insult me, you can get lost." Husk said, but he was still smiling.
They fell into a companionable silence, the coin making a reappearance, this time to disappear in increasingly flashy gestures, then reappear out of nowhere. It looked impossible, but even though Husker had the ability for it, Angel doubted he was using magic. God knew he must have had years to perfect the skill, and it was very in character of him to do so. The music hummed in the background and, loathe as he was to so freely hand out even more compliments to Husk, Angel got it... There was a gentle comfort in nostalgia, in soaring violins and graceful piano. Something soothing and hypnotic, carrying long-gone memories of clear skies and arched windows and dizzyingly high ceilings.
Husk broke the silence with a question, yellow eyes fixing on Angel. "Did you dance a lot?"
"What, when I was mortal?" Angel ran his hands along the marble of the bar countertop. "Sometimes. As much as you'd expect, I guess. Yourself?"
Husk closed his eyes wistfully. "All the time."
"You miss it?"
"Don't you?"
Angel froze. "...Yeah, guess I do." He admitted softly.
To his surprise, Husk stood, extending a hand. "Well?"
"Wh- I can't waltz. I haven't done this in years."
"Bullshit." Husk pulled him to his feet. "I know for a fact that you can dance."
"Yeah, fuckin' lap dances, unless you want one of those." Angel seriously debated playing that line up, just to see the bartender blush. He resisted, not wanting to ruin a perfectly good conversation.
Husk raised an eyebrow. "I've seen you in bars, you're not fooling me."
He pulled Angel into the centre of the room, turning up the music and lighting with a wave of his hand. He was smiling. Angel was torn between surprise and excitement.
"Know the song?" Husk asked him, taking his hands.
A nod.
"You know where to put your hands?"
Angel shot him a shit-eating grin. "For you, whiskers? Always."
Husk rolled his eyes, putting a hand on Angel's waist. "Follow my lead."
Well, it turned out that having an 8' tall follow was not exactly the easiest, even if Angel was well-used to learning on his feet. Or, well, on his knees. Nope, he wasn't gonna think about that tonight.
Still, once they worked out a few of the kinks it ended up exceptionally smooth, for two people so vastly out of practice. Husk was good. Like, crazy good. And once he stopped tripping over his own feet, Angel fell into the rhythm with ease he hadn't anticipated, even managing a few spins and dips. Having another set of arms proved less difficult than he'd expected, another way to incorporate a little personal flair.
The music washed over them both. A flowing tide, a wave, sometimes faster or slower but always constant. Husk didn't hesitate, confident and self-assured, and so Angel let himself fall into each change in tempo as well, taking each second just as it was. It was freeing, to put his trust in someone else so completely. He didn't remember the last time he'd felt like this.
At some point, Husk managed to subtly shift to follow, letting Angel take the lead. Angel whistled, missing a few steps as he got used to the role. "Didn't know you were a switch." He winked, then added: "You might live to regret this."
"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Husk shook his head, still smiling. Angel didn't think he'd seen the bartender this happy before. "Don't underestimate yourself."
To Husk's credit, they made it a total of 3 more minutes before Angel made a misstep, overshooting as he tried to restore his balance. Husk caught him before he could faceplant on the floor, which was not much less embarrassing for Angel because he still ended up half-collapsed in the bartender's arms, blushing.
Husk chuckled, giving him a once-over. "You okay, kid?"
Angel straightened up, stepping back to a less... intimate distance. "Told you not to trust me."
"Hey, you were good." Husk laid a hand on his shoulder. "I mean it."
"Ah, Husker, you're too nice to me." Angel tried for a grin, looking away at the last second.
Husk clearly caught it, shooting him a look of concern. "You alright?"
No. This is unprecedented territory. I don't want to get hurt. I don't want to get you hurt. "Yeah, fine. Seriously, it wasn't even a fall." Angel deflected, forcing himself to smile. He stretched, shaking out his hands.
Husk didn't press, though his look of apparent concern didn't fade. He retreated to the bar, dimming the music with a quick snap of his fingers. Angel hesitated, but joined him after a second. Husk slid a glass across the bar for him. He took a sip and scowled. "Water, really? No alcohol?"
The bartender huffed a laugh, filling his own glass with the same. "Don't tell me you don't need this. I'm not getting you dehydrated this early in the day."
Angel rolled his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Husk was right, as much as he hated conceding to his physical needs. He'd got so caught-up in dancing he hadn't noticed how much strain it had put on his body, how tired he'd ended up.
He downed the glass slowly as he watched Husk mess with various things behind the counter. He was humming again, gentle vibrations of sound that soothed something in Angel's chest. He laid his head on his arms, closing his eyes. Taking it all in.
He woke to the harsh buzzing of his phone - texts from Valentino. Shit, he hadn't noticed himself starting to falling asleep. He hadn't noticed being carried, either, but he was lying on one of the sofas in the common area, a blanket laid over his shoulders. Looking up, Husk was gone from the bar, but Angel had no doubt who had done this for him. Right, last night... Angel would process all of that later, probably over a drink or two (or seven).
The texts were the same as always - berating him, apologising, promises of affection, then more threats and, yeah, he likely would end up paying for this one. An hour late was uncharacteristic, even for him. But even as he hurried out of the hotel with panic thrumming in his chest, Angel thought it was probably worth it.