I let you have plenty of fun. I let you fuck around with the cocktail umbrellas last week. You said that was fun.
...If I say yes to one of these things will I get five minutes peace afterwards?
You're welcome, Legs. Hope it gets you through the bullshit a little easier.
Yes, your fucking highness. Any other requests while we're at it? Good. You should be good. She's trying to make a marshmallow pony right now. She's concentrating. Got her tongue stuck out and everything.
It's fine. Charlie said it gave the booze flavour. She was probably being nice about it but eh. It's had worse in it.
Fucking fine. I'll let you explain it however you want. Don't make me regret it.
Only legal substances at this here establishment. Vaggie's rules. But sure. I'll get you some ice.
Gimmie sec.
[And in a few moments, he has attached an image. It's an image of Charlie squishing melted marshmallow together into something that's vaguely horse-shaped, if no one had ever seen a real horse before. She, indeed, has her little tongue sticking out.]
uh yeah she DEFINITELY was penny gettin the rhinestones stuck to one of his weird eyespots was hilarious, though i'm gonna bedazzle his egg guys next day off i get
vaggie doesn't want me to have ANY fun :( better make those drinks real fuckin strong, huskeroo gotta take the edge off somehow aspirin doesn't cut it no more.
[...heh. That's actually really cute? Angel surprises himself with the half-smile, even as he pauses, leaning heavily against a mostly-clean brick wall to catch his breath. He's sore all over -- bad night, long night, too many guys and not enough breaks, the potion-laced booze and smell of Val's cigarettes still clinging all over him. Angel just wants to take a four hour shower and curl into a ball for the rest of the weekend.]
deal. that's actually kinda cute don't you ever tell her i said that
He has a whole-ass fit about that until Cherri said it made him look like a sparkly bitch and he took it as a fuckin' compliment. I ain't getting involved if you touch the eggs, you KNOW how weird he is about them.
Vaggie doesn't want ANYONE to have any fun. And sure thing, Legs. Strong as you need 'em.
I won't utter a word.
[Sometimes a little adorableness helps with the crushing weight of everything else. Even if it's just a small bright spot in the dark. Husk is about to offer another, heading off to open the door, leaning against it. Once Angel starts to come into view, however, he steps outside, striding the distance between them, brow furrowed in not-disguised-at-all worry.
He'll offer a hand- a crutch for Angel to lean on if he so chooses to.]
Jesus, you weren't fuckin' kidding. Real bad night, then.
god he fuckin WOULD the fuckin nerd lmao i think it's funny he's funny when he's all mad and "don't touch my minionssssss" lolol
[Prerequisite Pentious-mocking over with, Angel stuffs his phone into his chest fluff and staffers through the grimy gloom of late-night Hell. Husk is there, like some kind of goddamn beacon of light, and Angel's a little stunned at how his whole body goes slack with relief. Like just seeing the guy's enough to make him feel safe. When had that started happening?]
Feel like you're insultin' me, Whiskers. Should I be offended? [It's a weak attempt at humor, in a voice that's so hoarse it sounds like Angel's been gargling rocks. He's shivering a little with exhaustion and the need to dull some of the new pain -- both from the scenes and from how pissed off Val still was about the club. Still worth it, but damn Angel was paying for it. There aren't any visible bruises, at least. Val had left his face alone this time.
He takes the offered hand, his own trembling as he squeezes tight.] Think he got it all outta his system, though. Hopefully.
[Mocking Pen is always a great time- it's a fantastic way to spend an evening. But all thought of making the snake man's life an amusement for the night is gone when Husk realises just how bad of a state Angel is in. Husk's ears pin back as he hears the gravelly sound of his voice- shit. ]
You can take it as one if you want- pretty sure you'll bitch about it either way.
[There's no venom in it- he's trying to keep it light but he's not doing a great job of it. His hand squeezes back in response to Angel's solid as a goddamn rock, despite how anger and disgust churn in his chest and stomach. He knew that Angel would get shit for what happened in the club, that the disrespect wouldn't go without recompense. He's deeply proud of Angel for doing it... but he'd always have to pay for it.
He can't hide the growl in the back of his throat, or how his fur bristles. He can't do shit about this, but oh, does he want to.]
That fuckin' asshole. Ain't worth the ground he walks on.
[He starts to lead Angel back towards the open door and the safety of the hotel. ]
C'mon, Legs. I got a drink and an ice pack with your name on in there. You got anything that needs looked at? That shitheel hurt you?
[Because just because there's no visible bruises doesn't mean there's not something there- he wouldn't put it past that fucking moth. ]
Damn right I will. [Bitching is a tried and true hobby of Angel's -- though albeit one that's been less and less frequent around Husk himself, lately. Turns out it's a little more fun to laugh with the bartender than whine at him. Easier, too. Maybe one of the easiest things Angel's done since dying, which is...scary.
Still, he doesn't resist letting Husk lead him back inside, that last bit of tension slipping away as soon as they're inside the hotel. Amazing that the tacky place has become a sanctuary, somewhere that feels about a million miles away from Val and the studio and the rest of Hell. The insult gets a hoarse, raspy laugh.] Or the expensive-ass shoes he's walkin' in. Yeah, I hear ya.
[There's a brief pause, as Angel slowly runs his free hands (all three of them) over his own body, prodding gently to see what hurts. He can't really feel it otherwise -- these days Angel has to escape so far into his own head when he's at the studio that it's like his body belongs to someone else. Like he can't feel when something hurts or when he's so exhausted every muscle is screaming to collapse. A couple winces, a few tender spots on his ribs, his hips, but --]
Nothin's broken, don't think. He prolly didn't wanna wait for make-up to hide anythin' big. [Angel means it as a joke. It does not come out sounding like a joke.] Just my shoulder's real bad, though. [That had been Val yanking him around when he hesitated a little too long around hour 15 -- Angel remembers that much.] Should be fine with some ice.
[A pause, then, a little more genuinely cheeky:] Not that I'd say no to seein' ya in a cute little nurse's get-up, Husky~ If that's what you're offerin'.
[Honestly, Angel's company- bitching or otherwise - is very welcome to Husk. Something he would have thought laughable when Alastor first summoned him to the hotel. This has been his forced servitude, and he wasn't planning on getting attached to any of the fuckers he was being forced to serve booze to- especially not who he saw as an obnoxious fake who purposefully riled him up every chance he got.
Oh, how things had changed. He cares about every stupid soul in this stupid hotel- and Angel? Well, when he's not inside the hotel, when he's with Valentino, Husk feels an uncomfortable, awful knot in his stomach which only relaxes once the spider demon is home and safe. He never would have expected he'd feel better for having Angel's company, but here he is. ]
Hope something fuckin' chews them. Something real nasty. Preferable while he's still wearing them.
[Husk makes a soft noise of assent in the back of his throat, leading Angel to the bar. As promised, a drink is waiting for him there, nice and strong. He snorts in amusement. ]
In your fuckin' dreams, Legs.
[He picks up the ice pack, moving to press it carefully against one of Angel's shoulders- he has to stretch because Angel is so fucking tall. He makes no show of the fact he is, still, technically playing nurse here. This is just a thing he's doing, no need to make a fuss about it.]
[Angel's in the same boat -- at some point the unruly pack of dumbasses in this Hotel have gone from annoyances to people he genuinely cares about. Fuck it, if Angel's being truly honest with himself, that caring is feeling a hell of a lot like love lately. Platonic and -- otherwise, in the case of certain deep-voiced bartenders. There's something akin to butterflies somewhere beneath Angel's bruised ribs, for fuck's sake, and that's bad. It's bad because it's dangerous, because if Valentino caught wind that Angel genuinely cares about the hotel residents, he wouldn't hesitate to use that knowledge against his favorite toy.
And it's bad because that kind of good thing, that flutter in Angel's chest every time he comes home late and Husk's waiting up for him, every time there's a perfectly chill drink and a few minutes of soft chatting, every time Angel sees that crooked little smile -- that doesn't last. Not for someone like Angel. He doesn't get to have something that good.
Still, that doesn't stop him from sitting down (gingerly, the action sending jolts of pain up his spine, even as his wobbly knees are beyond relieved to finally relax), from resting his elbows on the familiar scarred-up bartop, from letting out a soft, hissing wince as his muscles finally start to relax. There's even a shaky attempt at a half-smile, a teasing:] Nah, Husky, I usually think'a you in somethin' more classy -- French maid's costume, or maybe somethin' leather, if I'm feeling spicy~
[Then there's the ice pressing to Angel's throbbing shoulder, and he makes a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh, leaning over immediately so Husk can reach easier. The ice instantly starts to chill his aching muscles, numbing the sharp edge of pain, and Angel closes his eyes, grits his teeth a bit and lifts a hand to cover Husk's, pressing the ice more firmly against the wrenched shoulder.] Yeah, there. Right there's -- good.
[Charlie's dreams for the hotel sure were working- maybe not with her ridiculous trust falls or singalong songs- those weren't really the secret to making them be better... wanting to continue to be better was just having people give a shit about them. Then being able to give a shit about those people in return. Who knew it was that simple?
But then... there's that shadow hanging over the both of them. No matter how much they improve, the fact remains: they are owned by other people. People who absolutely and categorically would not allow them the joy they're allowing to seep into their lives. Husk knows Alastor likes him miserable - showing just how much happier he's been since he started living here... well, that's just asking for trouble. And Angel? Jesus, he's going through enough already from that psycho moth boss of his. The thought of potentially making it worse is... bad.
So he really shouldn't be leaning into this feeling- indulging in it. But here he is anyway. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. ]
Fuckin' adorable that you think I'm classy, Legs. Wishful thinkin' at its finest there.
[His gaze drops to where Angel's hand covers his own, an ear flicking back as he tries to ignore the flutter in his chest at that. He's far too old to be getting fuckin' butterflies at a hand touch and he absolutely shouldn't be letting it continue. And yet, here he is. Doing that.
He lets Angel's hand press it closer, his thumb moving over the edge of the icepack, the claw there gently brushing through the thin layer of fuzz on Angel's back. Stop it. Stop it right now. He clears his throat.]
[It's insane. It's insane and stupid and so, so not a good idea, even more so than moving into the Hotel had been from the get-go. Angel had done it because -- because he needed something different, needed a cheap place away from Valentino for just a few goddamn days, weeks, maybe a month if he was lucky. And then every chucklefuck under that leaky roof had squirmed their way into whatever was left of his soul.
There's another of those wheezy, weary laughs, and Angel tilts his head, smiles crooked and fond down at Husk.] Says the fella wearin' suspenders and a bowtie. Pretty sure you're the picture of class, Kittycat~ [After sixteen-ish hours spent being touched (and touched and touched and touched), it seems impossible that that slight brush of Husk's thumb, the graze of his claw through Angel's fluff, against his back should be felt at all. But it's electrifying, making the sinner shiver all over, eyes widening a bit, locking with Husk's.
There's something -- right there, not in Angel's head, not his imagination, it's something both of them have been tiptoeing around for weeks now -- and they're on the very edge of it. One move, from either of them, and they'll fall head over heels into something so dangerous and wonderful and impossible that Angel can't make himself look away. He swallows hard, doesn't move a muscle, doesn't want to break that tiny point of contact.] Didja? Just for lil ol' me?
[Husk ruffles his wings in what could be construed as either irritation or embarrassment. Likely it's a little bit of both. He clears his throat, normally he's pretty good at deflecting Angel's flirtations. But that wasn't exactly the same as his usual brand of debauchery, and he's not exactly sure how to handle it, nor the weird flustered feeling that comes with it.]
Dunno what you're talkin' about. I ain't classy, Legs. S'your imagination or some shit.
[You know what, instead of thinking about how that makes him feel, he'll focus on still brushing a claw slowly through Angel's fur as he keeps the ice pack in place. Not that it's... really making much of a change to everything churning around in his stomach- especially when Angel locks eyes with him like that- his pupils dilating as they fix on the other demons. This is so stupidly dangerous. If Alastor noticed...
But this feels... real fucking nice. And terrifying. But mostly nice. Like being pulled into the centre of something they've been spiralling around for a while. It feels comfortable, right - it feels more right than anything had felt for a long fucking time. And he wants more of it. Insane and foolish as it is, he very almost doesn't care if Alastor notices. A lopsided smirk crosses his lips, his voice dropping an octave as he responds: ]
Sure did- super boozy and everything, as requested. I don't do that for just fuckin' anyone, y'know?
[That gets a laugh, because fuck, if Husk only knew what Angel's imagined about him lately -- scandalous, unspeakably kinky things, like waking up in his arms and talking to him under the covers when they're both half-asleep and kissing his forehead right between his feathery eyebrows and feeling his warm, furry, relaxed body wrap around Angel's like a blanket. Things that don't belong to two demons, damned to eternal hellfire.
But he leans into the hand on his shoulder and forgets to tease Husk back, just looks down at him with that serious, solemn, mismatched gaze, wonders what color his eyes were in life. If he was always "Husk", if he tended bar as a human, if their paths could've ever crossed. What he should do, now that they have.]
Yeah, I know. [It's soft, Angel's brow furrowed a bit, toeing the line between joke and serious.] Ya don't do that for anyone else. If you aren't careful, Husk, I might start thinkin' ya like me, y'know? [It's just careless enough that it could be a joke. But it's not. It's a door, opening just a crack, just enough for light to peek through. It's the first step on a path that's been beckoning Angel for months, now. He just has to wait and see if Husk will take the next step, swing that door a little wider.]
[Such thoughts would make any demon in hell blush with the pure filth of it all. Husk would be lying if he hadn't thought of it, himself. Days like this, when Angel came home exhausted and hurt and just that little bit broken in ways he probably can't even voice any more. Husk wants to just take Angel up to his room and show him how much he actually matters- even something as simple as running him a bath, or sitting with him watching the television. Something where the only touch is actually wanted and invited, instead of the other demon being wrung out and used for someone else's pleasure.
It's 'bout time someone gave a shit about what Angel wanted. Long past time, actually. He shifts his palm a little, more flat against Angel's back, more supportive, safe under his palm.
He sees what Angel has done here. The door he's opened a crack, the path he's welcome to walk down- the path he's been dithering at the edge of since they danced together in the puke-covered streets of Pentagram City. He knows the smart thing to do would be to shut this down. Play it off as a joke and let it be. It'd be safer, too. They're both owned by other people, their lives are not their own to enjoy. Stepping down that path could put them both at so much risk.
But but but.
But Husk is a gambler. Regardless of if a bet is smart or safe, he is prone to take it. It's not just that though, he knows- because he wants to say fuck it and grasp for one tiny speck of happiness in this festering shithole of a place. Even if it might not last. Even if it might get them in a worse place than they already are. The odds are not in their favour at all, not even slightly, but Husk smiles all the same. A genuine one, a little softer around the edges than his usual fare. In a quiet murmur: ]
Who's to say I don't? [His eyes flick up, yellow eyes lock on Angel's mismatched ones. A little impulsively, his free hand moves up to brush through Angel's floofy hair, just a single, seemingly careless movement, but certainly crossing a threshold he hasn't before. ] Did I say that? Don't reckon I did.
[Oh. Oh, this is dangerous. Because Husk smiles like that and Angel's whole body goes warm and dizzied and alight with how much he wants to keep him smiling, just like that. It's not like the compulsion from Val's deal, from the invisible chain that keeps Angel tied to the studio, to his work. It's a longing so acute that Angel would, in that instant, do anything Husk said. Anything he wanted. Anything.
Swallowing hard, Angel knows he shouldn't tilt his head into Husk's hand. He shouldn't smile back, soft and aching and too tired to hide how fond he is. He shouldn't do this.] No. Ya didn't. There's a whole lot ya haven't said. I'd listen, yaknow.
[One hand reaches out slowly, finger hooking under one of Husk's suspenders, a gentle, almost reverent touch, sliding down the strap in a slow, careful motion. It's not Angel's usual move of draping himself all over Husk, melodramatic and over-the-top. His knuckle just barely grazes the bartender's fur, this time, yet it feels like an electric shock.] For example...if'n ya told me to go to bed, I'd go. But if'n ya didn't... [Angel's eyes lift, catching Husk's again.] I'd stay here. Long as ya let me.
[It's so very dangerous. Husk should put a stop to this immediately. But he doesn't. He should, at the very least, be more aware of his surroundings- listening for the crackle of radio static which heralded him being watched and a promise to an abrupt end to any happiness he dared let inside his crusty old heart. He doesn't do that, either. This is more intoxicating than the strongest booze he's downed and he cannot get enough of it- hell, he wants more of it- and the little thrill he's getting from indulging in this is making him far less cautious than he really ought to be.
He isn't paying attention to the rest of the lobby, the space around them is shrinking to a pinpoint that just has the two of them in it. Stupid, dangerous, but he carries on anyway. As Angel leans into his hand, his claws curl in, lightly threading through the fluffy hair. No gripping, no pulling, just a careful brush- something Angel could easily pull away from if he so wished. Husk would never want Angel to feel trapped by him, not in a million years. ]
I'm not a big talker.
[Which is true, but there's been a lot he's been keeping quiet lately. Things that have reached a point that it's almost impossible to keep quiet anymore. As Angel's finger slides down his suspender, so very carefully brushes against his fur, he shifts a little closer. A little noise escapes the back of his throat that he doesn't quite manage to tap down, something quiet and soft and distressingly feline. Christ, he hopes he doesn't start purring, that would be mortifying.
He tries to ignore the noise, pretending like it never happened. The smile stays, though. ]
Yeah? Can't say I'd mind having you stick around then, if that's the case.
[Angel's used to being close, too close to people -- it's his whole job, after all, being close enough to see all the sweaty, gross, messy parts of being a physical body, even if you aren't human anymore. He's so used to it that it shouldn't register like it does, when Husk shifts closer, when he gets near enough that Angel can smell him, smoke and booze and cologne. But it does, making something shivery and hot and hungry roar in his chest like a living thing.
He wants, for the first time in a long, long time. Angel can't remember the last time he wanted another person, wanted to simply stay in their presence and soak them in, keep hearing and seeing and smelling and touching them, even just slightly, even innocently. Maybe it was when he was alive. And, rather than quench it at all, the slight graze of Husk's fur against his knuckle, the gentle press of Husk's claws in his hair just make it worse.
Angel's reaching up before he can think better of it, one hand resting on Husk's cheek, gentle, hesitant, unpracticed. Something about that touch undoes him a little, and there's raw fear in Angel's face now, bright in his eyes. They're both dancing around it, but they both know how risky this is. It could end so badly, for them both. It sure as fuck won't end well.
But Angel still leans forward, just a bit, curls his fingers against Husk's cheek, pleading and hopeful all at once.] You should -- tell me to stop, Husk. Or I'll -- do somethin' I can't undo.
[Husk is no stranger to not being able to have what he wants. That's been his existence since he gambled with his own soul and Alastor slammed that collar around his neck. He wears disappointment, acceptance that he isn't allowed to chase his own happiness and desires with a tired acknowledgement that it cannot ever get any better. His good days are done, and he pissed them away with booze and gambling, not knowing they were numbered.
But this... this closeness to Angel- this thing that has been quietly and steadily growing between them since that night on the filthy streets... this is something he wants. Desperately. Being around Angel makes him feel comfortable and happy in a way he honestly thought Alastor had squashed out of him. He didn't think he could feel like this again, and now he is, he doesn't want to lose it. Losing it feels like... losing something precious. Something he doesn't think he could ever replace.
There's fear too, of course. His pupils dilate as Angel's hand cups his cheek. He sees the fear in Angel's expression and he understands it. If Valentino or Alastor were to catch them, they would be dead. Maybe even worse than dead. Neither Overlord were especially known for their capacity for mercy. It would be horrific and painful and they'd suffer for it. But they've opened this door a crack now, they both know what's behind it. There's no denying that anymore, no matter how hard they deny or try and cover it up. Wouldn't it be worse suffering to step away from this precipice and pretend like it wasn't there at all? Wouldn't that be a slower, longer death than whatever Alastor or Valentino could dole out to them?
Wouldn't it be better to at least give themselves a sliver of a chance to be happy than be miserable and probably end up dead at their respective master's hands when they run out of use anyway? Enjoy what they can before the inevitable end?
Husk turns his head in Angel's hand, his lips brushing against the other demon's palm. It's not firm, not lecherous, it's the tiniest of feather-light actions. Laughingly gentlemanly for two literal demons living in literal Hell. Husk turns his attention back to Angel, his voice low and deep, firm despite the anxiety about all of this.]
I don't want you to stop.
[Simple and honest. He really doesn't. Despite everything, despite all the odds against them... he'd like to bet on this. Them. ]
[Damn it, Husk. You're supposed to be the smart one here. That's what part of Angel had been counting on -- the constant push-pull they'd established, where one is too much and the other too little. That's what had kept them at a distance all this time, after all. But then -- that night on the street, when Angel's last wall had crumbled and Husk had seen him. Seen him like nobody else in Hell had, not for nearly a goddamn century.
Husk still sees him, turning and nuzzling his palm with another of those soft sound, his voice like the best whiskey burn, his smile unflinching. Fearless. Like there isn't the threat of Alastor or Valention lurking in the background of every move they make. Like this could actually be something. Angel knows better. He knows. He -- knows, and yet --]
Fuck it. [It's soft, in that space between them, in that moment before he leans forward and kisses Husk, firm and honest and unflinching. Like it's the end of some long, pleasant date, like Husk had taken his coat and listened to him ramble and walked him up to his front door. Like they're just two people, two normal, living, average guys who are allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want.
[Husk doesn't want to be the smart one this time. He wants to do something stupid and reckless that will inevitably get them into a lot of fucking trouble. He wants to be happy, for once in his miserable existence and more importantly, he wants Angel to be happy.
Because they do know each other, quite possibly more than anyone has ever known either of them before. The push and pull was good for a time. Smart. Kept the distance. But has the months rolled on from that fateful night the distance became harder and harder to maintain. It wasn't so easy to push or pull when you desperately wanted to go in the same direction as the other.
Because Husk did see Angel. He saw every part of him, good and bad, and he wanted so much more of that in his life. The thought of not having that, him, in his miserable existence felt... wrong, now. He wanted everything that Angel was willing to give him- wanted to be there for the moments of mirth when one of the residents did something stupid they could openly laugh at together, and for the moments when Angel came home, bruised and exhausted and needing someone to lean on, to make the weight of what he has to go through less. Husk wants all of it.
So Husk is happy to return that kiss, reckless and stupid as it might be. He presses carefully into it, not pushing or demanding- not trying to make it more than what it is. He knows that's important- to tread the careful tightrope between letting Angel know he wants this while also being sure the ball was very much in the other's court. Angel gets used and commanded too fuckin' much, it was about time he got to choose something. Besides... this was nice. Simple. Already comfortable and familiar, like jigsaw pieces slotting into place- like they belonged like this. Together. ]
[It had seemed so insurmountable in his mind, the possibility of this -- of kissing someone not for the camera, not because he had to, not because he was high out of his mind on Love Potion, but because he wanted to -- that Angel's a little surprised when the afterlife doesn't come to a screeching halt. Nothing happens. Nothing breaks. Nothing falls apart because he did something for himself, for someone else, someone who wasn't Val.
It's enough that he actually laughs a little when he pulls away to breathe, just enough for that, forehead resting against Husk's, wanting to stay in that fuzzy, whiskey-flavored warmth as long as he can. Somehow one of his hands had drifted to Husk's shoulder, another still on his face, another still curled around one of his suspenders. The benefits of having so many limbs.
One more is still pressing the ice in place, and when Angel leans forward, it twinges his bad shoulder and he winces a little, gritting his teeth, brought back to the real world.] Fuck, I -- sorry. Sorry. [He looks up, clarity seeping in, fear and unease and anxiety building like a roiling storm. Angel remembers where they are, who they are, how -- impossible this is. Part of him is waiting for Husk to realize it, to shove him away.]
[The world doesn't fall apart- the stupid hotel doesn't even fall apart. It's just them, standing there, after doing something reckless and stupid and impossible. There's no crackle of radio static, no sudden appearance of chains around either of them. They flew under the radar and Husk is stupid enough to let a tiny sliver of hope into his chest that maybe they can keep flying under it.
A smile tugs at his lips when he hears Angel laugh. Oh, the things he would do to hear that again- a proper, genuine laugh. Not the shit he puts on when he's flirting with people or acting. It feels wonderful to hear it- pools somewhere in his chest and stays there. He's happy to help his forehead against Angel's soft and comfortable- a mutual safe haven. He's lost track of the fucking arms, but that's fine. He can live with that.
He only pulls back a little when Angel winces, his ears slowly pulling back as he sees the anxiety and fear settling into the other's expression. This is stupidly dangerous and it will probably get them both killed, but Husk is finding it desperately hard to care about that. Instead, his hand moves up to brush against the soft fluff of Angel's cheek, his thumb just against the corner of his mouth.]
Why? I'm not.
[Sorry. Not even for a fucking second. There are outside forces that will absolutely and categorically not tolerate this- who will make their lives ever harder for daring to step out of line here. Chase something they should not be allowed to have. But even then, he can't be sorry for this. He won't be. ]
[It's smooth enough that Angel wheezes out another laugh, tilting his head into Husk's hand like he's never been touched before, like he's starved for it. Maybe he is. Maybe it hasn't counted, until now. It's so much to think about, how one kiss, one gentle touch to his cheek can completely blot out decades of performative, drug-induced physical contact of every possible variety.
So instead he just thinks about his answer, about how the world -- such as it is -- continues to turn, how neither Alastor or Valentino are appearing out of the shadows to crash cataclysmic against the two of them. He nuzzles into Husk's hand, closes his eyes.]
Nah, I ain't. Just sorry for...for not doin' that sooner? For makin' ya wait so long? [A shrug, a kiss to the pad of Husks's palm.] For bein' such a damn mess all the time.
[Angel's laugh pulls one of his own out of Husk- deep and rumbling. His hand curls in a little at the kiss to his pad, the claws brushing carefully through the fuzz on his cheek. The world didn't end, neither of them are double dead for this, it's... fine. Dangerous, he allows a tiny sliver of hope into his chest that maybe, just maybe they'll be allowed to be happy. Just this fuckin' once. ]
S'okay. I didn't mind the wait- it was about damn time you got to decide when you wanted to do something.
[Honestly, Husk understands what a big deal it is that Angel did choose to do this. He could have just as easily not- and Husk would have understood that. He'd have been disappointed, to be certain- but he'd take a little heartbreak over Angel feeling obligated to take that final step any day. He snorts in amusement at the mess comment, reaching up with his free hand to flip up that ridiculous mess of hair on top of Angel's head.]
I told you, I like the mess. It's part of your charm. 'Sides, ain't like I'm much better. We can both be damn messes together. That's the deal, right?
[Being losers. Together. Speaking of... Husk is too much of a realist to ignore the giant, fucking elephant in the room. His feathery brows furrow, the smile fading into his usual despondent tiredness. The hand that had been messing with Angel's hair moves to take a hand, lacing their fingers together in one fluid motion. ]
...They'll fuckin' kill us if they catch us.
[If. Suggesting he isn't planning to just... drop this. He doesn't want to do that. He categorically doesn't do that. ]
We're gonna have to be real fuckin' careful, Legs.
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Date: 2024-03-25 02:33 am (UTC)...If I say yes to one of these things will I get five minutes peace afterwards?
You're welcome, Legs. Hope it gets you through the bullshit a little easier.
Yes, your fucking highness. Any other requests while we're at it?
Good.
You should be good. She's trying to make a marshmallow pony right now. She's concentrating. Got her tongue stuck out and everything.
no subject
Date: 2024-03-26 03:12 am (UTC)that was real fun
especially when ya let me put rhinestones on em
sorry bout the glue.
maybe. maybe not. that's a chance you gotta take, whiskers
life's about risk, babycakess
maybe some ice
fucked up my shoulder on the last reshoot
i'd say somethin illegal to take the edge off, but i ain't doin that shit anymore
take a picture
we can sell it to vaggie for at LEAST $200
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Date: 2024-03-27 07:28 pm (UTC)Fucking fine. I'll let you explain it however you want. Don't make me regret it.
Only legal substances at this here establishment. Vaggie's rules. But sure. I'll get you some ice.
Gimmie sec.
[And in a few moments, he has attached an image. It's an image of Charlie squishing melted marshmallow together into something that's vaguely horse-shaped, if no one had ever seen a real horse before. She, indeed, has her little tongue sticking out.]
We go halves on it.
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Date: 2024-03-28 03:18 am (UTC)penny gettin the rhinestones stuck to one of his weird eyespots was hilarious, though
i'm gonna bedazzle his egg guys next day off i get
vaggie doesn't want me to have ANY fun :(
better make those drinks real fuckin strong, huskeroo
gotta take the edge off somehow
aspirin doesn't cut it no more.
[...heh. That's actually really cute? Angel surprises himself with the half-smile, even as he pauses, leaning heavily against a mostly-clean brick wall to catch his breath. He's sore all over -- bad night, long night, too many guys and not enough breaks, the potion-laced booze and smell of Val's cigarettes still clinging all over him. Angel just wants to take a four hour shower and curl into a ball for the rest of the weekend.]
deal.
that's actually kinda cute
don't you ever tell her i said that
almost there
open the door for me?
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Date: 2024-03-28 11:04 pm (UTC)Vaggie doesn't want ANYONE to have any fun. And sure thing, Legs. Strong as you need 'em.
I won't utter a word.
[Sometimes a little adorableness helps with the crushing weight of everything else. Even if it's just a small bright spot in the dark. Husk is about to offer another, heading off to open the door, leaning against it. Once Angel starts to come into view, however, he steps outside, striding the distance between them, brow furrowed in not-disguised-at-all worry.
He'll offer a hand- a crutch for Angel to lean on if he so chooses to.]
Jesus, you weren't fuckin' kidding. Real bad night, then.
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Date: 2024-03-30 01:49 am (UTC)i think it's funny
he's funny when he's all mad and "don't touch my minionssssss" lolol
[Prerequisite Pentious-mocking over with, Angel stuffs his phone into his chest fluff and staffers through the grimy gloom of late-night Hell. Husk is there, like some kind of goddamn beacon of light, and Angel's a little stunned at how his whole body goes slack with relief. Like just seeing the guy's enough to make him feel safe. When had that started happening?]
Feel like you're insultin' me, Whiskers. Should I be offended? [It's a weak attempt at humor, in a voice that's so hoarse it sounds like Angel's been gargling rocks. He's shivering a little with exhaustion and the need to dull some of the new pain -- both from the scenes and from how pissed off Val still was about the club. Still worth it, but damn Angel was paying for it. There aren't any visible bruises, at least. Val had left his face alone this time.
He takes the offered hand, his own trembling as he squeezes tight.] Think he got it all outta his system, though. Hopefully.
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Date: 2024-03-30 02:40 am (UTC)You can take it as one if you want- pretty sure you'll bitch about it either way.
[There's no venom in it- he's trying to keep it light but he's not doing a great job of it. His hand squeezes back in response to Angel's solid as a goddamn rock, despite how anger and disgust churn in his chest and stomach. He knew that Angel would get shit for what happened in the club, that the disrespect wouldn't go without recompense. He's deeply proud of Angel for doing it... but he'd always have to pay for it.
He can't hide the growl in the back of his throat, or how his fur bristles. He can't do shit about this, but oh, does he want to.]
That fuckin' asshole. Ain't worth the ground he walks on.
[He starts to lead Angel back towards the open door and the safety of the hotel. ]
C'mon, Legs. I got a drink and an ice pack with your name on in there. You got anything that needs looked at? That shitheel hurt you?
[Because just because there's no visible bruises doesn't mean there's not something there- he wouldn't put it past that fucking moth. ]
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Date: 2024-03-31 01:40 am (UTC)Still, he doesn't resist letting Husk lead him back inside, that last bit of tension slipping away as soon as they're inside the hotel. Amazing that the tacky place has become a sanctuary, somewhere that feels about a million miles away from Val and the studio and the rest of Hell. The insult gets a hoarse, raspy laugh.] Or the expensive-ass shoes he's walkin' in. Yeah, I hear ya.
[There's a brief pause, as Angel slowly runs his free hands (all three of them) over his own body, prodding gently to see what hurts. He can't really feel it otherwise -- these days Angel has to escape so far into his own head when he's at the studio that it's like his body belongs to someone else. Like he can't feel when something hurts or when he's so exhausted every muscle is screaming to collapse. A couple winces, a few tender spots on his ribs, his hips, but --]
Nothin's broken, don't think. He prolly didn't wanna wait for make-up to hide anythin' big. [Angel means it as a joke. It does not come out sounding like a joke.] Just my shoulder's real bad, though. [That had been Val yanking him around when he hesitated a little too long around hour 15 -- Angel remembers that much.] Should be fine with some ice.
[A pause, then, a little more genuinely cheeky:] Not that I'd say no to seein' ya in a cute little nurse's get-up, Husky~ If that's what you're offerin'.
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Date: 2024-04-01 12:46 am (UTC)Oh, how things had changed. He cares about every stupid soul in this stupid hotel- and Angel? Well, when he's not inside the hotel, when he's with Valentino, Husk feels an uncomfortable, awful knot in his stomach which only relaxes once the spider demon is home and safe. He never would have expected he'd feel better for having Angel's company, but here he is. ]
Hope something fuckin' chews them. Something real nasty. Preferable while he's still wearing them.
[Husk makes a soft noise of assent in the back of his throat, leading Angel to the bar. As promised, a drink is waiting for him there, nice and strong. He snorts in amusement. ]
In your fuckin' dreams, Legs.
[He picks up the ice pack, moving to press it carefully against one of Angel's shoulders- he has to stretch because Angel is so fucking tall. He makes no show of the fact he is, still, technically playing nurse here. This is just a thing he's doing, no need to make a fuss about it.]
Here okay? Where'd you need it?
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Date: 2024-04-01 02:56 am (UTC)And it's bad because that kind of good thing, that flutter in Angel's chest every time he comes home late and Husk's waiting up for him, every time there's a perfectly chill drink and a few minutes of soft chatting, every time Angel sees that crooked little smile -- that doesn't last. Not for someone like Angel. He doesn't get to have something that good.
Still, that doesn't stop him from sitting down (gingerly, the action sending jolts of pain up his spine, even as his wobbly knees are beyond relieved to finally relax), from resting his elbows on the familiar scarred-up bartop, from letting out a soft, hissing wince as his muscles finally start to relax. There's even a shaky attempt at a half-smile, a teasing:] Nah, Husky, I usually think'a you in somethin' more classy -- French maid's costume, or maybe somethin' leather, if I'm feeling spicy~
[Then there's the ice pressing to Angel's throbbing shoulder, and he makes a sound halfway between a groan and a sigh, leaning over immediately so Husk can reach easier. The ice instantly starts to chill his aching muscles, numbing the sharp edge of pain, and Angel closes his eyes, grits his teeth a bit and lifts a hand to cover Husk's, pressing the ice more firmly against the wrenched shoulder.] Yeah, there. Right there's -- good.
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Date: 2024-04-01 11:55 pm (UTC)But then... there's that shadow hanging over the both of them. No matter how much they improve, the fact remains: they are owned by other people. People who absolutely and categorically would not allow them the joy they're allowing to seep into their lives. Husk knows Alastor likes him miserable - showing just how much happier he's been since he started living here... well, that's just asking for trouble. And Angel? Jesus, he's going through enough already from that psycho moth boss of his. The thought of potentially making it worse is... bad.
So he really shouldn't be leaning into this feeling- indulging in it. But here he is anyway. A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. ]
Fuckin' adorable that you think I'm classy, Legs. Wishful thinkin' at its finest there.
[His gaze drops to where Angel's hand covers his own, an ear flicking back as he tries to ignore the flutter in his chest at that. He's far too old to be getting fuckin' butterflies at a hand touch and he absolutely shouldn't be letting it continue. And yet, here he is. Doing that.
He lets Angel's hand press it closer, his thumb moving over the edge of the icepack, the claw there gently brushing through the thin layer of fuzz on Angel's back. Stop it. Stop it right now. He clears his throat.]
Good. Drink your drink, I made it special.
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Date: 2024-04-02 02:00 am (UTC)There's another of those wheezy, weary laughs, and Angel tilts his head, smiles crooked and fond down at Husk.] Says the fella wearin' suspenders and a bowtie. Pretty sure you're the picture of class, Kittycat~ [After sixteen-ish hours spent being touched (and touched and touched and touched), it seems impossible that that slight brush of Husk's thumb, the graze of his claw through Angel's fluff, against his back should be felt at all. But it's electrifying, making the sinner shiver all over, eyes widening a bit, locking with Husk's.
There's something -- right there, not in Angel's head, not his imagination, it's something both of them have been tiptoeing around for weeks now -- and they're on the very edge of it. One move, from either of them, and they'll fall head over heels into something so dangerous and wonderful and impossible that Angel can't make himself look away. He swallows hard, doesn't move a muscle, doesn't want to break that tiny point of contact.] Didja? Just for lil ol' me?
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Date: 2024-04-02 11:48 pm (UTC)Dunno what you're talkin' about. I ain't classy, Legs. S'your imagination or some shit.
[You know what, instead of thinking about how that makes him feel, he'll focus on still brushing a claw slowly through Angel's fur as he keeps the ice pack in place. Not that it's... really making much of a change to everything churning around in his stomach- especially when Angel locks eyes with him like that- his pupils dilating as they fix on the other demons. This is so stupidly dangerous. If Alastor noticed...
But this feels... real fucking nice. And terrifying. But mostly nice. Like being pulled into the centre of something they've been spiralling around for a while. It feels comfortable, right - it feels more right than anything had felt for a long fucking time. And he wants more of it. Insane and foolish as it is, he very almost doesn't care if Alastor notices. A lopsided smirk crosses his lips, his voice dropping an octave as he responds: ]
Sure did- super boozy and everything, as requested. I don't do that for just fuckin' anyone, y'know?
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Date: 2024-04-04 01:17 am (UTC)But he leans into the hand on his shoulder and forgets to tease Husk back, just looks down at him with that serious, solemn, mismatched gaze, wonders what color his eyes were in life. If he was always "Husk", if he tended bar as a human, if their paths could've ever crossed. What he should do, now that they have.]
Yeah, I know. [It's soft, Angel's brow furrowed a bit, toeing the line between joke and serious.] Ya don't do that for anyone else. If you aren't careful, Husk, I might start thinkin' ya like me, y'know? [It's just careless enough that it could be a joke. But it's not. It's a door, opening just a crack, just enough for light to peek through. It's the first step on a path that's been beckoning Angel for months, now. He just has to wait and see if Husk will take the next step, swing that door a little wider.]
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Date: 2024-04-05 01:48 am (UTC)It's 'bout time someone gave a shit about what Angel wanted. Long past time, actually. He shifts his palm a little, more flat against Angel's back, more supportive, safe under his palm.
He sees what Angel has done here. The door he's opened a crack, the path he's welcome to walk down- the path he's been dithering at the edge of since they danced together in the puke-covered streets of Pentagram City. He knows the smart thing to do would be to shut this down. Play it off as a joke and let it be. It'd be safer, too. They're both owned by other people, their lives are not their own to enjoy. Stepping down that path could put them both at so much risk.
But but but.
But Husk is a gambler. Regardless of if a bet is smart or safe, he is prone to take it. It's not just that though, he knows- because he wants to say fuck it and grasp for one tiny speck of happiness in this festering shithole of a place. Even if it might not last. Even if it might get them in a worse place than they already are. The odds are not in their favour at all, not even slightly, but Husk smiles all the same. A genuine one, a little softer around the edges than his usual fare. In a quiet murmur: ]
Who's to say I don't? [His eyes flick up, yellow eyes lock on Angel's mismatched ones. A little impulsively, his free hand moves up to brush through Angel's floofy hair, just a single, seemingly careless movement, but certainly crossing a threshold he hasn't before. ] Did I say that? Don't reckon I did.
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Date: 2024-04-08 03:19 am (UTC)Swallowing hard, Angel knows he shouldn't tilt his head into Husk's hand. He shouldn't smile back, soft and aching and too tired to hide how fond he is. He shouldn't do this.] No. Ya didn't. There's a whole lot ya haven't said. I'd listen, yaknow.
[One hand reaches out slowly, finger hooking under one of Husk's suspenders, a gentle, almost reverent touch, sliding down the strap in a slow, careful motion. It's not Angel's usual move of draping himself all over Husk, melodramatic and over-the-top. His knuckle just barely grazes the bartender's fur, this time, yet it feels like an electric shock.] For example...if'n ya told me to go to bed, I'd go. But if'n ya didn't... [Angel's eyes lift, catching Husk's again.] I'd stay here. Long as ya let me.
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Date: 2024-04-09 09:05 pm (UTC)He isn't paying attention to the rest of the lobby, the space around them is shrinking to a pinpoint that just has the two of them in it. Stupid, dangerous, but he carries on anyway. As Angel leans into his hand, his claws curl in, lightly threading through the fluffy hair. No gripping, no pulling, just a careful brush- something Angel could easily pull away from if he so wished. Husk would never want Angel to feel trapped by him, not in a million years. ]
I'm not a big talker.
[Which is true, but there's been a lot he's been keeping quiet lately. Things that have reached a point that it's almost impossible to keep quiet anymore. As Angel's finger slides down his suspender, so very carefully brushes against his fur, he shifts a little closer. A little noise escapes the back of his throat that he doesn't quite manage to tap down, something quiet and soft and distressingly feline. Christ, he hopes he doesn't start purring, that would be mortifying.
He tries to ignore the noise, pretending like it never happened. The smile stays, though. ]
Yeah? Can't say I'd mind having you stick around then, if that's the case.
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Date: 2024-04-11 01:27 am (UTC)He wants, for the first time in a long, long time. Angel can't remember the last time he wanted another person, wanted to simply stay in their presence and soak them in, keep hearing and seeing and smelling and touching them, even just slightly, even innocently. Maybe it was when he was alive. And, rather than quench it at all, the slight graze of Husk's fur against his knuckle, the gentle press of Husk's claws in his hair just make it worse.
Angel's reaching up before he can think better of it, one hand resting on Husk's cheek, gentle, hesitant, unpracticed. Something about that touch undoes him a little, and there's raw fear in Angel's face now, bright in his eyes. They're both dancing around it, but they both know how risky this is. It could end so badly, for them both. It sure as fuck won't end well.
But Angel still leans forward, just a bit, curls his fingers against Husk's cheek, pleading and hopeful all at once.] You should -- tell me to stop, Husk. Or I'll -- do somethin' I can't undo.
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Date: 2024-04-11 08:10 pm (UTC)But this... this closeness to Angel- this thing that has been quietly and steadily growing between them since that night on the filthy streets... this is something he wants. Desperately. Being around Angel makes him feel comfortable and happy in a way he honestly thought Alastor had squashed out of him. He didn't think he could feel like this again, and now he is, he doesn't want to lose it. Losing it feels like... losing something precious. Something he doesn't think he could ever replace.
There's fear too, of course. His pupils dilate as Angel's hand cups his cheek. He sees the fear in Angel's expression and he understands it. If Valentino or Alastor were to catch them, they would be dead. Maybe even worse than dead. Neither Overlord were especially known for their capacity for mercy. It would be horrific and painful and they'd suffer for it. But they've opened this door a crack now, they both know what's behind it. There's no denying that anymore, no matter how hard they deny or try and cover it up. Wouldn't it be worse suffering to step away from this precipice and pretend like it wasn't there at all? Wouldn't that be a slower, longer death than whatever Alastor or Valentino could dole out to them?
Wouldn't it be better to at least give themselves a sliver of a chance to be happy than be miserable and probably end up dead at their respective master's hands when they run out of use anyway? Enjoy what they can before the inevitable end?
Husk turns his head in Angel's hand, his lips brushing against the other demon's palm. It's not firm, not lecherous, it's the tiniest of feather-light actions. Laughingly gentlemanly for two literal demons living in literal Hell. Husk turns his attention back to Angel, his voice low and deep, firm despite the anxiety about all of this.]
I don't want you to stop.
[Simple and honest. He really doesn't. Despite everything, despite all the odds against them... he'd like to bet on this. Them. ]
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Date: 2024-04-13 12:14 am (UTC)Husk still sees him, turning and nuzzling his palm with another of those soft sound, his voice like the best whiskey burn, his smile unflinching. Fearless. Like there isn't the threat of Alastor or Valention lurking in the background of every move they make. Like this could actually be something. Angel knows better. He knows. He -- knows, and yet --]
Fuck it. [It's soft, in that space between them, in that moment before he leans forward and kisses Husk, firm and honest and unflinching. Like it's the end of some long, pleasant date, like Husk had taken his coat and listened to him ramble and walked him up to his front door. Like they're just two people, two normal, living, average guys who are allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want.
Angel kisses Husk like Anthony would.]
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Date: 2024-04-13 04:57 pm (UTC)Because they do know each other, quite possibly more than anyone has ever known either of them before. The push and pull was good for a time. Smart. Kept the distance. But has the months rolled on from that fateful night the distance became harder and harder to maintain. It wasn't so easy to push or pull when you desperately wanted to go in the same direction as the other.
Because Husk did see Angel. He saw every part of him, good and bad, and he wanted so much more of that in his life. The thought of not having that, him, in his miserable existence felt... wrong, now. He wanted everything that Angel was willing to give him- wanted to be there for the moments of mirth when one of the residents did something stupid they could openly laugh at together, and for the moments when Angel came home, bruised and exhausted and needing someone to lean on, to make the weight of what he has to go through less. Husk wants all of it.
So Husk is happy to return that kiss, reckless and stupid as it might be. He presses carefully into it, not pushing or demanding- not trying to make it more than what it is. He knows that's important- to tread the careful tightrope between letting Angel know he wants this while also being sure the ball was very much in the other's court. Angel gets used and commanded too fuckin' much, it was about time he got to choose something. Besides... this was nice. Simple. Already comfortable and familiar, like jigsaw pieces slotting into place- like they belonged like this. Together. ]
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Date: 2024-04-15 12:37 am (UTC)It's enough that he actually laughs a little when he pulls away to breathe, just enough for that, forehead resting against Husk's, wanting to stay in that fuzzy, whiskey-flavored warmth as long as he can. Somehow one of his hands had drifted to Husk's shoulder, another still on his face, another still curled around one of his suspenders. The benefits of having so many limbs.
One more is still pressing the ice in place, and when Angel leans forward, it twinges his bad shoulder and he winces a little, gritting his teeth, brought back to the real world.] Fuck, I -- sorry. Sorry. [He looks up, clarity seeping in, fear and unease and anxiety building like a roiling storm. Angel remembers where they are, who they are, how -- impossible this is. Part of him is waiting for Husk to realize it, to shove him away.]
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Date: 2024-04-15 07:53 pm (UTC)A smile tugs at his lips when he hears Angel laugh. Oh, the things he would do to hear that again- a proper, genuine laugh. Not the shit he puts on when he's flirting with people or acting. It feels wonderful to hear it- pools somewhere in his chest and stays there. He's happy to help his forehead against Angel's soft and comfortable- a mutual safe haven. He's lost track of the fucking arms, but that's fine. He can live with that.
He only pulls back a little when Angel winces, his ears slowly pulling back as he sees the anxiety and fear settling into the other's expression. This is stupidly dangerous and it will probably get them both killed, but Husk is finding it desperately hard to care about that. Instead, his hand moves up to brush against the soft fluff of Angel's cheek, his thumb just against the corner of his mouth.]
Why? I'm not.
[Sorry. Not even for a fucking second. There are outside forces that will absolutely and categorically not tolerate this- who will make their lives ever harder for daring to step out of line here. Chase something they should not be allowed to have. But even then, he can't be sorry for this. He won't be. ]
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Date: 2024-04-18 01:02 am (UTC)So instead he just thinks about his answer, about how the world -- such as it is -- continues to turn, how neither Alastor or Valentino are appearing out of the shadows to crash cataclysmic against the two of them. He nuzzles into Husk's hand, closes his eyes.]
Nah, I ain't. Just sorry for...for not doin' that sooner? For makin' ya wait so long? [A shrug, a kiss to the pad of Husks's palm.] For bein' such a damn mess all the time.
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Date: 2024-04-19 11:15 pm (UTC)S'okay. I didn't mind the wait- it was about damn time you got to decide when you wanted to do something.
[Honestly, Husk understands what a big deal it is that Angel did choose to do this. He could have just as easily not- and Husk would have understood that. He'd have been disappointed, to be certain- but he'd take a little heartbreak over Angel feeling obligated to take that final step any day. He snorts in amusement at the mess comment, reaching up with his free hand to flip up that ridiculous mess of hair on top of Angel's head.]
I told you, I like the mess. It's part of your charm. 'Sides, ain't like I'm much better. We can both be damn messes together. That's the deal, right?
[Being losers. Together. Speaking of... Husk is too much of a realist to ignore the giant, fucking elephant in the room. His feathery brows furrow, the smile fading into his usual despondent tiredness. The hand that had been messing with Angel's hair moves to take a hand, lacing their fingers together in one fluid motion. ]
...They'll fuckin' kill us if they catch us.
[If. Suggesting he isn't planning to just... drop this. He doesn't want to do that. He categorically doesn't do that. ]
We're gonna have to be real fuckin' careful, Legs.
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