Archive of Our Own

If Angel was a braver demon, he’d be kissing Husk right now. 

But he’s not a brave demon. He’s an Italian-American mobster, reincarnated as a spider-twink with a terminal case of the scared shitless. Some of his greatest fears include pseudodysphagia, monotony, and losing the company of a certain ex-overlord. 

“Who’d wanna spend their last days NOT fucking and fighting?!” Angel questioned, six months prior. Well bend him over and fuck him sideways, it’s the night before Extermination Day, and Angel has spent the past five hours NOT fucking and fighting, but trying to make Husk laugh.  

Everyone else retired a while ago. Sir Pentious slunk away first, embarrassed when his confession fell flat at Cherri’s feet. It’s a shame, really. Angel loves a good enemies to lovers-story. Vaggie and Charlie left soon thereafter, probably to fulfill the first part of Angel’s declaration of how the day should be spent. Once Alastor had melted away into the shadows to do Satan knows what, Cherri gave Angel a knowing look, and declared it time for drinking games. They decided on Ring of Fire, pestered Husk into producing a deck of cards, and made him and Niffty join. By the time everyone was half-way to wasted, Cherri grabbed Niffty by the neck and bid their adieu. 

And now… Now they’re alone, bathed in the deep purple hues of early morning Hell. Husk is swaying. He’s fumbling with the cards, trying to show Angel a card trick. And Angel can’t stop thinking about kissing him. 

“I used to do this all the time, God fucking damn it-?!” 

The cards go flying. Angel is absolutely smitten. 

“I swear I used to be good at this! It’s just- I can’t work with these stupid fucking paws!” 

“I like your hands,” Angel takes one without thinking, tracing Husk’s palm. How could he NOT?! It’s shaped like a heart, for fucks sake! It’s so cute, Angel could squeal. 

But Husk freezes. And Angel, who catches himself in the act, blushes. Trying to diffuse the tension, he winks and jokes: “I’m sure they’d feel great wrapped around my-” 

“NOPE!” Husk withdraws, without any real heat. “That’s enough for tonight! Bar’s cl-”  

He stops, looking conflicted. Scared, even. 

And Angel thinks he understands. They’re only one sleep away from Extermination, after all.

There’s an awkward lull in their conversation, trying to figure out what to say next, how to stall for more time together. 

Husk glances at the tv in the parlor, and Angel follows his gaze. There’s a porno running with the sound off. Angel frowns as his rival Tiffany Titfucker arches her back and gets fucked -- you guessed it. In the tits. How original. 

“Y’know, I used to love tv,” Husk finally drawls, and Angel turns back to him. “Back in Vegas, I had this huge collection of Toshiru Mifune-movies. I wonder what happened to it, after I… whatever. My point is: I fucking hate tv down here. Between the hot garbage they call ‘news’, the fashion shows, the endless stream of commercials and the porn, watching it just makes me feel like shit.”

“Really, Whiskers? It’s our last night together, and you can’t resist getting one last dig in at my work?” Angel’s not actually angry. He just likes to watch Husk squirm. 

“No- fuck, that’s not-” 

“If you’re such a fantastic porn critic or whatever, how about you give me some constructive criticism?” 

“Oh, get off it, Angel! Even you can’t deny that the scripts are a load of hot fucking garbage. How am I supposed to know you like taking a cock in every orifice when they make you repeat the same tired cliché’s every single movie?!” 

“Husky, you wound me! I don’t like taking a cock in every orifice - I love it, baby! But please do tell, how would you write it? Come on, set the scene for me, kitten.” 

“No.” 

“Pleeeaaaaase? I could pitch your ideas to Valentino.” 

“I’m not playing this game with you, legs.”

“With you the writer and me the actor, we’d make an unstoppable porn-churning machine!” 

“ You’re an unstoppable porn-churning machine...” Husk huffs.  

“I’d never ask ya’ to step out of your warm-and-comfy-zone,” 

“Bullshit.”  

“But here’s the thing. Here’s the super important, super convincing thing. And that thing is: I really,  really, REALLY want this. Like, a lot. And you’ve seen enough of my movies to know I’m not above begging.” 

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” 

“Oh hell no! You started this, baby. I’m just making sure you finish. It’s not nice to tease, you know…” 

“You would know…” Husk sighs, grabs his enchanted bottle of never ending whiskey, and takes a deep chug. 

Angel can barely believe his luck when he says:
“ Fine .” 

And begins to set the scene. 

“I guess- hm. How do pornos even start, anyway?” 

“Let’s see, there’s the classic ‘bored house-twink meets delivery personnel/hired craftsman’. Or how about my personal favorite: the hostage situation? Get me tied up and dicked down, daddy.” 

“No, no, we’re trying to get away from the clichés, not reiterate them! How about -- how about a couple, in love?” 

“Sounds kinda cheesy. Valentino says romance doesn't sell.” 

“ Fuck Valentino. You wanna hear my porno or not, Angel?” 

“Yes please!” 

“We’ve got a couple of best friends. They just -- just realized their feelings for each other. One is called… uhm. Bangel, or some shit.” 

“ Bangel ?” Angel snickers. “What’s the other one’s name? Busk?”
“Let’s call him Charles.” 

“Fancy! Is he your porn-sona?” 

“Shut the fuck up. Anyway, Bangel and Charles are stumbling home together after a wild night on the town. They’re drunk, covered with blood and guts, having fought their way through a bunch of loan-sharks or whatever -- but they’re happy. Laughing. They had each other's backs out there, and now-” 

“Now it’s time to get hot and fucking dirty!!” 

Husk takes another bolstering swig of the bottle. But he can’t hide the smile. Angel grins right back at him. 

“Something like that, yeah. The second they’re safe inside, Charles crowds Bangel up against the wall. He hesitates, doesn’t want to make Bangel feel like he owes him or anything, or worry that this will ruin their friendship -- but Bangel kisses him first. And it is, ruining, that is. They’ll never be the same again.” 

“That doesn’t- doesn’t have to be a bad thing…? Right?” 

“No, it’s… It’s fucking amazing. They kiss, and it’s like a big ‘fuck off’ to every sucker who ever thought they could control them.” 

Angel’s stomach drops. He whispers: 

“and then what do we do?” 

He expects Husk to get flustered. For him to stutter and blush and tell Angel in no uncertain terms that the two of them? Are never going to fucking happen. And sure, Husk does seem to hesitate. But then he meet Angel’s eyes, all heavy lids and blown out pupils, and purr: 

“I take you upstairs, and I make you mine, Angel.” 

Angel’s knees wobble. Blood is rushing to his head, and for the undeath of him, he can’t seem to formulate a single coherent thought. The deep yellow of Husk’s eyes makes him feel like he’s drowning in amber. 

Husk withdraws, turns his back to him, and sighs deep enough to rattle Angel out of his stupor. He folds his wings around himself, like a shield. 

“It’s late. We’ve got a -- a big day tomorrow. And I’m exhausted, Angel.” 

Stab, stab, stab -- there goes the beat of Angel’s heart. 

If he was a braver demon, he’d be kissing Husk right now. But he’s not feeling very brave. He’s feeling fucking terrified. 
“Husk.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Don’t- don’t die tomorrow.” 

Husk’s smile, glanced behind a canopy of shoulder and feathers, is small and sad. 

“I’ve got your back if you got mine.” 

Angel shakes himself off. Collects the scattered pieces of himself, and jams them together in the shape of a leer.
“Your back, your front, and those delicious legs of yours, wrapped around my waist-” 

“Get your mind out of the gutter, legs.” Husk chuckles. 

“You started it, perv.” 

“Fuck off.” 

They win the fight. 

They lose the hotel, for about an hour, until Charlie’s dad rebuilds it for them. 

They lose Sir Pentious, and not even the big bad boss of Hell himself can bring him back. 

All they’ve got left of the snake demon is a shitty portrait on the wall. Pent was far from Husk’s favorite, but he can’t look at the thing without feeling like a piece of rotten garbage. 

He keeps replaying the scene: Adam swatting Sir Pentious' warship out of the sky like it was nothing. Even with an arsenal of angelic weapons and a small army of bloodthirsty cannibals on their side, they were powerless against him. All Husk could do, all anyone could do, was grit their teeth and watch as Lucifer and Charlie Morningstar settled the fight with Adam once and for all. Lucifer, Charlie and… Niffty. He guesses. Husk hasn’t felt comfortable around her since he watched her brutalize Adam to double-death. 

Husk’s not the only one in a bad mood. 

Being the bartender, he’s exposed to all of the hotel inhabitants drunk rambling, moping and/or general whining. The weight of their combined bullshit is heavy. 

And then, of fucking course, there’s Alastor. 

Bane of Husk’s existence, biggest mistake of his afterlife: the Overlord keeps hanging around the bar like some overgrown leech, feeding on the osmosis of misery. 

One week after Extermination day, Charlie and Lucifer gather everyone in the lobby for an announcement. Everyone, sans Angel. He’s had Valentino breathing down his neck for days now, demanding he work extra shifts, overtime, sans breaks, and all other kinds of stuff that would make mortal-realm unions shit themselves. 

“Has anybody seen Angel today?” Charlie asks the group, wringing her hands together nervously. “He’s not in his room.” 

“I’ve barely seen the bitch all week,” Cherri answers. “Too busy cucking and sucking to hang out, I guess.” 

“Are we sure he even came back to the hotel last night? I was up early this morning, and I didn’t see him,” Vaggie says. 

“He came back,” Husk replies, maybe a bit too fast. “He looked-” 

exhausted. Too wrung out to exchange more than a nod in greeting. 

“-tired. Valentino is bleeding him fucking dry.” 

Husk is tired, too. He never closes the bar until Angel’s home. Wouldn’t be able to sleep, anyway. 

Charlie’s looking on the verge of doing something well-intentioned but stupid - like marching over to Vee-tower, again. Husk’s got half the mind to join her, if she does.
“Ah well, guess we’ll tell him whenever he limps back home! Am I right, CharChar?” Lucifer jokes, elbowing his daughter in the side, effectively breaking her out of her stupor. 

“Ah. Yeah, I guess we will.” 

“Tell him what exactly…?” Alastor asks, eyes narrowing with suspicion. 

“We’ve decided to have a party!” Charlie says, with a smile that immediately triggers Husk’s bullshit-alarm. 

“A party…?” He drawls, already dreading the pack of drunken losers he’ll be forced to serve. 

“Yes! To inaugurate the new hotel! We’ll be hosting it this weekend. Isn’t it exciting?” 

“All of Hell is invited,” Lucifer continues. “Including some pretty important demons, if I dare say so myself. Stolas Goetias has RSVP:d. Stolas! Motherfucking!! Goetias!!! I bet you’ve never talked to a prince, Alastor,” 

“He can’t make it-” Charlie says. 

“That ogre probably scared him off,” Alastor huffs. 

“--but still! This is huge!” 

The rest of the meeting is lost to Lucifer and Alastor’s bickering. Husk sneaks off sometime in the middle of it. 

Half an hour later, once everyone’s gone their separate ways, Alastor joins him by the bar. 

He orders a drink. 

“And please, Husker. Do feel free to join me.” 

So he does. 

Many hours and half a bottle of whiskey later, Alastor’s drink is still sitting untouched on the counter. Husk is in the dangerously pleasant state of inebriation where his body feels abuzz with warmth, and the half-light makes Alastor’s grin look almost soft. 

Husk is actually enjoying the Overlord’s company. How many years has it been…? They used to be friends, before the gamble. 

“...and so I said: ‘you want to talk to the manager of this here radio station? But, Susan, my dear, I am the manager!’” 

“Fucking-- fucking Susan!” Husk laughs, slamming his fist onto the counter. He’s been laughing so much tonight, his stomach is starting to hurt. Alastor doesn’t laugh. He just smiles that enigmatic smile of his, swirling a straw in his untouched drink -- but when you’ve downed half a bottle of whiskey, even that shit is hilarious. 

“What-- what did she do?” He hiccups. 

“Oh, nothing much. She simply huffed and guffawed at me for a while. Once she realized that she was not, in fact, a wolf, and I not a piglet in a strawhouse, she stormed off, and that was the end of that. No, wait! I just recalled! She did in fact rip my darling secretary’s tongue out and ate it--” 

That’s when Angel stumbles into the hotel. 

The sight of him sobers Husk right up. He looks… rough. Empty-eyed. Limping. His clothes are ripped, and he won’t meet Husk’s eyes. 

Husk is by his side in an instant. He doesn’t touch him - knows better than that by now, because this happens, too, sometimes. Far too many times. 

He feels the prickling of Alastor’s eyes on them, and extends his wings to shield Angel from view. He wouldn’t want the Overlord to see him like this. He whispers: 

“Angel, baby, it’s me. It’s Husk. You’re safe, you’re home. Can I… can I touch you?” 

Slowly, Angel nods. Husk takes him by the hand. 

“I’m taking you to your room. Is that okay, baby?” 

Another nod. 

Husk guides him through the lobby and up the stairs, looking him over as they go. There are no broken limbs, or any immediate threat of blood loss. Unless… 

They enter the bedroom. Husk closes the door behind them, and helps Angel sit on the edge of his bed. Fat Nugget snuggles up to Angel’s back, and Husk watches as a torrential downpour of shivers erupts all over his body. 

“Angel. Can you extend your extra set of arms, please?” 

Angel shakes his head. He still won’t meet Husk’s eyes. 

“Fuck, Angel… please. I can’t help you if you don’t-- I want to help you. Let me help you.” 

“Hurts,” Angel chokes, and Husk has to bite his tongue to keep from doing something stupid like crying. 

“I know. I know, baby.” 

Finally, Angel turns to him. His eyes are dry, and surprisingly sober. Whatever he finds in Husk’s expression seems to convince him. 

“Alright.”

The following hour is torture. Angel’s fifth and sixth hands are a couple of broken, bloody messes. The simple act of extending them is enough to turn Angel into a trembling, sniveling mess. Then comes the disinfection of the wounds, the popping of bones back into place, and the bandages. Husk tries to be gentle.  

By the time they’re done, Angel is halfway out of his mind with the pain. Husk wants to drink until he forgets all of this ever fucking happened, or at least rip Valentino’s twisted throat out with his teeth. Instead, he helps Angel get comfortable in the pink, warm nest of his bed. He puts Fat Nugget in Angel’s arms, careful not to jostle the injured ones, and watches the two snuggle up. Slowly, the rage sizzles out of him. He’s fucking exhausted. 

Once Angel’s breathing has evened out, Husk moves to leave. 

A hand latches onto his arm. 

“Stay,” Angel begs. 

So he does. 

He sits down next to Angel on the bed. Angel’s grip softens. 

“Charlie’s throwing a party this weekend,” Husk says. 

“Hm? What kinda party?” 

“Some big fancy ball-type’a dance. Lucifer’s invited all kinds of rich assholes.”  

“Sounds like a snore.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, it kinda does.” 

Husk smiles, watching Angel’s fingers smooth down the fur they ruffled. Then, Angel sits up. His hands move to Husk’s wings.  

“No, Angel, don’t-” 

“Please. I wanna… Wanna return the favor. Wanna take care of you… Y’gotta look handsome for the party.” 

“...alright.” 

He closes his eyes, feeling Angel run his hands through his feathers. They haven’t been preened in a good while, but Angel seems to know what he’s doing. He plucks old feathers out with practiced hands, so gentle it’s a comfort, not a pain. When Husk starts to purr, Angel doesn’t say anything. But he does nestle his head up against Husk’s back. 

An hour later, time is turning hazy as Husk drifts in and out of sleep, sitting on Angel’s bedside, watching him sleep. Despite the horror of it all, it feels like a blessing. To be trusted to protect, instead of destroy. To be cared for in return. 

In the end, his fatigue wins out. He slinks out of Angel’s bedroom, prepared to get some much needed sleep.  

But Alastor is still sitting by the bar, a manic smile glued to his face. 

“My dearest Husker. I thought we were friends?”

Husk makes it one step down the stairs before the shackles manifest around his throat. Alastor janks, and Husk is sent tumbling down the stairs, a mess of limbs and feathers, heart in his fucking throat. 

Everything hurts. 

Gaze swimming, he looks at Alastor. What he sees is a monster. The Radio Demon’s shape is growing and twisting. Dark shadows manifest as a towering crown of horns on his head, and tentacles thrash behind his back. 

“Surely you know how much I despise interruptions,” the monster says, voice laced with statics. The noise fills the air, thick enough to choke on. They screech in Husk’s ears. He wants to cover them, but can’t. He’s paralyzed.  

“We are--” Husk gasps, trying to catch his breath. “We are friends! Fuck, Alastor, sorry-” 

“Words are cheap, old friend, and actions are gold,” Alastor’s golden grin twitches, eyes ablaze. 

“I derive no pleasure in hurting you, but my patience has its limits. The conditions of our deal are quite clear, and if you fail to uphold them then, well… Naughty pets don’t get any toys.” 

The chains dissolve. Alastor shrinks back to his normal size, shadows dissipating, statics fading. Husk doesn’t need another tug of the leash to know where Alastor wants him. He hurries back to the bar. As he slips past Alastor, Husk feels a sting on his wing.

Alastor has plucked one of his feathers, and is using it to swirl his drink. 

“Now where was I…? Ah, yes, Susan, and her horrible little mouthful of a snack! Though I must confess that my secretary became a lot more tolerable sans the ability to speak…”  

Husk nods at all the right places, even manages an encouraging smile or two. But the second Alastor is out of the room, his legs fail him. He sinks to the floor.

He can’t-- can’t breathe. Even though the shackles are gone, he can feel them constricting his airways. He hides in a burrow of his own wings. Dives into the darkness. 

When he comes back to himself, he finds Niffty curled up next to him, petting him with long, comforting strokes. He lets her into his wings, and stifles his cries in her hair. 

“- and what am I supposed to wear exactly?! A gown?! I don’t own any fucking gowns!!” Angel shrieks, rummaging through his closet. He throws the offending rags out behind him.

Fat Nugget oinks in agreement. His voice sounds strangely muffled. Angel takes a moment to free the little devilpig from the pile of clothes he’s covered in, before continuing his quest.  

“Too simple, too slutty, not slutty ENOUGH, too- Heeeey, now. This might just work!” He pulls out a long, sleeveless dress. It’s just the right amount of skanky, with a slit for his leg to poke out of, open hips and a v-neck that goes all the way down to where his belly button would’ve been, if he had one. The short sleeves are covered with fringe. 

Angel puts it on and hurries to the closest mirror, admiring the way the dress compliments his figure. His chest-fluff looks especially fluffy. And the black fringe tickling his jawline looks almost like feathers. 

“We’ll match…” 

The thought makes him blush. He sinks to the floor with an embarrassed squeal, hiding his face in four hands. Fat Nugget goes to him with a concerned oink. 

“I can’t BELIEVE Charlie is throwing the ball of the fucking century!! TONIGHT!! The crème de la crème of Hell is coming here, all so that little miss Perfect doesn’t have to deal with her emotions! And it’s not just the Overlords - I heard Lucifer invited the other Sins! And- and fucking royalty!! STOLAS FUCKING GOETIA HAS RSVP:D, and all I can think about is the old GRUMP serving the drinks!!” 

He sighs, turning to Fat Nuggets with a wobbly smile. 

“Do you think- do you think he’ll like it? The dress?” 

The pig oinks. Angel laughs, gathering him in his arms. 

“Thank you, baby!” 

After he’s applied his makeup (twice), screamed into a pillow, applied his makeup for the third time, and had two bolstering shots of baileys, Angel finally makes his way out of the room and down the stairs. 

The party has just started. Charlie and Vaggie are stationed by the door, greeting the first guests. Charlie is looking modest as always in her tomato-red suit. Vaggie’s got her hair up in a bun and her wings out, sporting her angelic spear like it’s an accessory. Maybe it is, in Lesbian-land.  

Music is playing from the open doors of the ballroom, and the parlor has been refurbished to accommodate buffét-tables. Lucifer even got them that caviar-fountain he promised. 

And there, by the bar, is Husk. He’s dressed up too, wearing a gray suit with an orange, undone bowtie, instead of the usual red one. He’s opted out of the tophat, slicking the fur on his head back. He looks so handsome, Angel almost turns the fuck back around. But then their eyes meet, and the starstruck look Husk gives him reminds Angel that he is, in fact, the hottest fucker in the room. 

He sashays down the steps, making sure to sway his hips as he approaches the bar. Husk’s paw finds the bottle. He takes a big swig. 

“Husk, do me up, won’t ya, darling?” 

Husk is GAWKING at him. It takes every ounce of Angel’s composure not to laugh. He turns around, showing Husk his open back. 

“My zipper, honey. I need a paw.” 

“Oh. Uhm, yeah, fine…” Husk grumbles. 

Angel watches Husk approach from behind the safety of his shoulder. He’s glaring at the floor, looking like he’s fighting some internal brawl. Finally, he puts one, carefully tender hand on top of Angel’s hip - and just like that, Angel’s forgotten how to breathe. Husk is hot to the touch. His breath wafts against Angel’s neck as he whispers:  

“You look good, Angel.” 

Working the zipper, his other hand brushes against Angel’s spine.

Angel decides to repay the favor. Before Husk has been able to slip away, Angel grabs him by the lapel with one hand, and ties his bowtie for him with two others. 

“You look good too,” Angel mumbles, so close that he feels Husk’s stuttered breath against his lips. “So handsome.” 

Husk withdraws, busying himself with a guest by the bar while Angel takes residence in his favorite stool. He leans into the palm of his hand, cherishing the opportunity to drink Husk in. 

That is, until Alastor melts out of the shadows and into the chair next to him, scaring the absolute shit out of him.
“My, my, aren’t the two of you looking dandy?” The Radio Demon cheers. “It’s nice to see you dressed up for once, Husker! You’re like a kitten with a bowtie. Ha ha ha!” 

“Fuck off, you old creep,” Husk says, without dignifying him so much as a look. His tail is twitching. 

“And Angel! Who knew a whore could look so fancy?” 

At that, Husk growls, turning to Alastor. Alastor grins right back at him. 

“Now don’t get your whiskers in a twist, old pal. He’s absolutely radiant! I just hope the shine of him won’t prove too distracting for you, hm, Husker? I need you to be on your best behavior tonight.” 

Husk’s ears go flat against his head. He glances at Angel, and the look of defeat in his eyes sends a stab through Angel’s heart. 

“Yes, Alastor…” 

“Good boy!” 

Hell fucking no. If Alastor thinks that Angel’s going to sit idly by and watch him demean Husk like this, he’s got another fucking thing coming. 

He sidles up to Alastor, putting a hand on the Radio Demon’s thigh. It’s as cold as Husk was warm. Angel smiles at the look of abject horror on Alastor’s face. 

“Yer’ not looking too shabby yerself, Mr tall, dark and creepy. I bet that suit of yours would look even better on my bedroom floor…” 

“Lay a hand on me again, and I’ll snap every bone in your pathetically thin body.” 

And with that, Alastor melts back into the shadows from whence he came. Angel scoffs at the retreating shadow, feeling quite pleased with himself. 

“He’s one to talk, right, Husky?” 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Huh?” 

Angel turns back to Husk. Husk, who’s looking angry for some reason?! 

“Don’t debase yourself for me.” 

“ Debase myself?! Is that what ya’ think I’m doing? I was just trying to help, asshole.” 

“I’m a grown-ass man, I can fight my own battles!” 

“Well, fuck me then. Guess that’s what I get for trying to do something nice for someone in Hell.” 

Conflict wars Husk’s face. At the other side of the bar, one of Charlie’s party guests is waving his fin around, trying to get Husk’s attention. Angel gives him the finger. 

“I- look, Angel, I’m- I think you should stay away from the bar tonight. Go mingle. Seduce a royal or something, ya’ don’t- don’t wanna waste your time here, with me.” 

Fuck. Fuck the party hasn’t even STARTED yet, and Angel’s plans are already falling into complete fucking disrepair! 

“I’m an adult, too, Husk. Ya’ don’t get to tell me what or who I wanna spend my time with!” 

“This is my JOB, Angel Dust! You’re--” 

But whatever he was about to say, it sticks in his throat. Because that’s when the motherfucking Vee’s steps through the door. And Angel freaks . 

He dives behind the bar, making himself as small as fucking possible under the counter. 

“What the fuck are you--?!” Husk begins, before he’s cut off. 

“Oh. My. God. Is that…? HUSKY!!” 

“Wha-? Velvette?!” 

Angel watches in stunned silence as the usually uptight Overlord practically THROWS herself into Husk’s arms, and Husk…? Husk HUGS HER BACK?! 

“Husker!” Vox greets, shaking his hand like they’re old pals or some crazy shit like that. 

“Oh, so this is the famous Husk,” Valentino saunters up to the bar, taking residence in the seat Angel was just sitting on. “I swear to fuck, these two go on and on about you. My, you are handsome. A bit older than I expected, but don’t worry, papi: Dilfs are in right now.” 

Angel gawks as Valentino takes Husk’s paw in hand and presses a kiss to the back. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Valentino drawls. 

“Likewise,” Husk answers, completely stone-faced. His tail is twitching so bad that it swats Angel in the face a couple of times. 

What the actual FUCK is going on?! 

Angel spends the next thirty minutes stewing in his own misery, listening to the Vee’s sweet talk Husk. Where the fuck is Alastor when you actually need him for once?! 

“Forget about Alastor, Husk. You should come work with us!” Vox says. 

“It would be just like the good old days! Remember all the fun we used to get up to?” Velvette agrees, running her finger up and down Husk’s arm. 

Angel wants to bite it. 

“Now imagine all of that fun in front of a camera. We’ll make you rich again,” Valentino leers, and Angel can’t stop the choked little: 

“What the actual fuck?!” that escapes him. 

Husk kicks him to keep quiet. 

“And you’d have me doing what exactly? Host poker games on television? Sounds like a snore.” 

“You’re thinking too small, Husky! We’d give you your casino back! A place for you to do what you do best: swindle losers and royalty alike. Just like the old days, babe,” Velvette says. 

“You have so much potential,” Vox agrees. “It’s a pity Alastor can’t appreciate you for the prize that you are.”
“Yeah well,” Husk’s ears falls flat. He’s looking conflicted. “It’s not like I could quit, even if I wanted to.” 

“Contracts can be renegotiated! Just say the word, darling, and I’ll set up the meeting,” Velvette reassures him.  

“Just think about it, alright?” Vox says, placing a business card on the counter. “You’re so much better than this place.” 

As they (FINALLY) leave to mingle, Angel tugs at Husk’s pants leg. 

“Hey,” Husk says. He’s polishing the same glass he’s been working on for the past fifteen minutes.
“Hey,” Angel answers. “What the fuck was that all about?” 

“We used to be business partners, way back. Before they recruited Valentino.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re actually considering that- that load of hot bullshit they just served ya’?” 

For the first time since the Vee’s appeared, Husk looks at Angel. He looks curious. Cautious. 

“I’m not an idiot, legs. I know they’re not interested in me, they’re just trying to undermine Alastor. And even if they managed to get their hands on my contract, and they gave me all that shit they promised… I’d still have their chains wrapped around my neck. I’ll never be an Overlord again. I made my peace with that a long time ago.” 

Husk goes to serve some other guests. Angel stays on the floor, deep in thought. 

“Are you gonna stay there sulking all night?” He asks. 

“I don’t wanna deal with Valentino right now. I know he doesn’t technically have any power over me here, but-”
“I wouldn’t worry about Valentino if I were you.” 

“...why?”

“I spiked his drink.”
“You did WHAT?!”
“I put some holy water in it. Just enough to make him spray out of all orifices for the next couple o’ days or so. It should start sometime around… now.” 

Husk gives Angel his hand, helping him to his feet. 

Together, they watch Valentino make a mad dash for the door, throwing other guests to the floor in his hurry to get out. To make things even better, Niffty is running after him, wielding her knife. 

“YOU CAN HIDE, BUG!!!” She screams. “BUT YOU CAN’T RUN!!!” 

The two disappear out the entrance, the sound of Niffty’s mad laughter and Valentino’s terrified screams echoing through the night. 

“Niffty NO!!” Charlie shouts.  

“Niffty YES!!” Vaggie cheers. 

Husk squeezes Angel’s hand, and Angel’s heart squeezes in turn. 

“Why did you do that?” 

“We’ve got your back, Angel.” 

Angel could cry. But that would ruin his makeup. Instead, he laughs. And Husk is right there with him, smiling. 

Angel joins him behind the bar after that, serving drinks and flirting with the guests like he was born to do it. Every now and then, they sneak a drink together. 

It doesn’t take long for the rest of the residents to join them. Even with Alastor present, Husk feels at peace. There’s comfort in knowing that even when the Hazbin is jam-packed with other demons, they choose each other. 

“To Valentino’s shit hitting the gutter!” Cherri toasts, startling a shocked laugh out of Charlie. 

“Here, here!” They agree, clinking their glasses together. 

“To the evening’s charming host-” Alastor begins, before Lucifer cuts him off with a loud ‘harrumph’ and an even louder: 

“To my wonderful daughter, who made all of this possible!” 

Charlie tears up, ‘aaw’s and chugs her fifth bottle of Xider for the evening. Husk notices her swaying, and makes a mental note to mix the rest of her drinks with water. Hungover-Charlie is a fucking pest. 

“To bugs!” Niffty declares.  

“To bugs!” They agree, and drink. 

“To Sir Pentious,” Charlie says, looking at the portrait. “He was- he was the fucking best! I miss him every day.” 

Vaggie puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“To Pent,” she agrees. 

 After the toast, their little group disperses. Cherri sneaks away into the crowd. Lucius goes to chit-chat with some floaty fox demon by the buffét. Alastor joins him. When Charlie starts to sing, Vaggie grabs her by the arm and drags her off to bed. Only then do they notice that Niffty is crying. 

Concerned, Husk reaches out for her. But before he’s had the chance, Angel gathers her up in his many arms. 

“There, there, sweet cheeks. What’cha crying about, huh?” 

“I miss wormy!!” 

“I know, baby girl. We all miss ‘wormy’,” 

Husk watches wordlessly, his foolish old heart growing three sizes too big for his chest. Angel is stroking a hand through Niffty’s hair, whispers something that makes her laugh through the tears -- and Husk feels like he’s falling, all over again. 

Oh. Oh , he is just royally fucking screwed, isn’t he?! 

Angel catches Husk looking at them and grins - big and warm as the fucking sun. Husk blushes, but doesn’t turn away. Doesn’t think he could, even if he wanted to. Angel’s smile slips. He looks inquisitive. Like he’s trying to figure Husk out. 

Husk waves and gets back to work, hoping that will keep Angel off the track. 

Here’s the thing: Husk has always known that Angel is attractive. It’s especially hard not to notice tonight, with him swinging his hips around in that dress. The party guests are practically stumbling over each other trying to catch and keep Angel’s attention. Personally, Husk wasn’t really interested in Angel until he got to know him. But now? 

It really shouldn’t come as such a big fucking surprise. But when he looks at Angel, he sees the most beautiful creature he’s ever met. And that scares the living shit out of him, because Angel? Isn’t his to keep. He never will be. 

Naughty pets don’t get any toys. 

“Hey, Cherri Bomb!”

Angel calls all of a sudden, startling Husk out of his stupor.
“Could ya’ do me a solid and-?” 

“Nope!” Cherri laughs, dragging a couple of snake-demons with her into the closest broom-closet. Huh. 

Angel turns to Niffty instead. 

“Niffty, baby?” 

“Yes?” 

“Guard the bar for us a moment, would’ya, sweetie?” 

“Yes, sir!”
She immediately starts waving her knife around, screaming: 
“Stay THE FUCK AWAY from the bar!” 

Everyone who values their afterlife takes a step away from the counter. The rest, Niffty stabs, laughing like a little maniac. 

“What are you doing?!” Husk asks, as Angel shepherds him away from the chaos. 

“Look,” Angel nods towards the parlor. 

Alastor and Lucifer are locked in what appears to be an intense staring contest, cheered on by a bunch of other party guests. Vox is there too, trying to get Alastor’s attention by screaming and waving what appears to be a VHS-tape around, to no avail. 

“They’ve been doing that for twenty minutes ,” Angel says. 

“Really? Twenty minutes?!” 

“They’re so fucking stubborn, they’ll probably be at it all night,” he snickers. “So I figured, hey! This is supposed to be a party, ain’t it? And we deserve a break.” 

“I dunno, Angel…” 

“Please, Husk,” Angel takes his hand in two of his, holding it to his heart. He’s close enough to kiss. “Dance with me.”  

Husk can’t help it. He laughs. Shocked and stifled, it comes out sounding more like a sob. 

“What?” Angel smiles, knowing. 

“I’m just so-- so unbelievably fucking fucked .” 

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.” 

Husk’s heart swells. 

“Come on, Angel. They’re playing our song.” 

Somewhere on their way to the dancefloor, Husk’s earlier bravado seems to leave him. 

The song playing is an upbeat disco-song about fucking that makes Angel grin. 

“Our song, huh?”

Husk blushes. He doesn’t seem to know where to put his hands, or his feet, or his tail, or his wings - until Angel takes pity on him by taking the lead. 

He takes his hand, guiding him through a simple foxtrot. It’s a little awkward at first, with Husk stepping on Angel’s toes, batting his wings at other people on the dancefloor, and (at one point) tripping over his own tail - all while swearing up a storm. 

“This is stupid… we look stupid! I’m--”

“Hey,” Angel says, propping Husk’s face up to meet him. He gives him a reassuring smile. “Who gives a shit?” 

Slowly, the nerves seem to bleed out of Husk. Their movements together become more confident and fluid. When Husk takes his eyes off the ground, meeting Angel’s, he’s actually smiling. 

The sight makes Angel trip over his own feet. Husk catches him in a movement so fluid, it might as well have been a dip. They linger there a moment, breathing each other in. 

Angel flushes, watching Husk’s eyes move to his lips. 

But instead of kissing him, Husk mumbles: 

“I’m no good at this.”

He rights them, and Angel covers his disappointment with a smile. 

The music changes to something sweet, something soft and terribly sad. Who the fuck made this playlist?! 

“You’re doing beautiful, honey,” Angel says, honestly, putting two of his hands on the small of Husk’s back and two others on his shoulders. “Let’s just sway for now.” 

Husk embraces him. Sways with him. He buries his face in the fluff on Angel’s chest, and Angel bends down to rest his face in the nook between Husk’s ears. He breathes him in, relishing in the heat of his hands on Angel’s back, the scent of cinnamon in his hair and whiskey on his breath. 

If he was a braver demon, he’d be kissing him right now. 

But when the song is over, and the song after that, and the one after that, when most of the party guests have either gone home or stumbled into a hotel room to fuck or sleep the drinks off, and they STILL haven’t kissed -- Angel feels like there’s nothing left to do than say: 

“Goodnight, Husk.” 

He’s halfway up the stairs to his room when Husk interrupts him. 

“Angel, wait-” 

He flies. It’s clumsy, spreading his wings wide enough in the lobby to take flight, and yet the sight makes Angel’s heart throb. Husk lands in front of him on the stairway, high enough that they’re eye to eye. He’s flushed, a little wild eyed, and he keeps glancing at Angel’s lips. 

Angel recognizes the conflict, and he thinks he understands. 

“It’s just you and me right now,” he soothes. 

“No Valentino, no Alastor,” Husk agrees, begrudgingly. 

“No Charlie, or Vaggie, Niffty or Lucifer or Cherri Bomb. Just me and just you.” 

Husk moves forward, cupping Angel’s face with his hand. 

Angel’s heart surges, breath sticking in his throat. 

“What do you-- what do you want from me, Angel?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

“Not to me it isn’t. And even if it was, I’d like to hear you say it.” 

“Y’know me. I’m not above begging-” 

“ Fuck , Angel. You don’t gotta beg with me--”
“You sure about that, hun? Cuz’ I feel like I’ve been waiting on my knees for you all night.”

“I--” Husk stutters. He runs his thumb across Angel’s cheek, and Angel leans into the touch. He’s not actually upset - he just loves to watch him squirm. Maybe Husk is scared too…?  

“Kiss me,” he whispers. “Husk, please.”  

Husk’s face contorts. He withdraws his hand, taking a step back. In the absence of him, only pain remains. 

“I wish I could.” 

Angel’s blood runs cold.

“What-- what the fuck does that mean?”  

Husk opens his mouth to explain - 

“Radio is not dead, but it is ending this broadcast.”

Angel and Husk freeze, turning towards the lobby. Vox is broadcasting what appears to be a recording of Alastor’s fight with Adam across his face, to a group of spectating party guests. 

“I told you he was a coward!” He cackles. 

“Oh fuck-- ” Husk curses.
“Vox, you insolent little pest,” Alastor’s voice BOOMS around the building, seeming to come from within the very walls. “You DARE darken MY doorstep?!” 

Vox throws both his fuck you-fingers into the air.   

“Not even your BARTENDER wants you, you freak!!” 

The air gets staticy. Shadows grow into thorned, thrashing tentacles. And anyone foolish enough to have snickered at Vox’s display is quickly skewered. Chaos ensues. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Lucifer steps into the lobby, sleeves up and body half-way transformed into his demon-form already. “You ASSHOLES better not be ruining MY little girls' party!” 

Vox is transforming, too. 

“Try me, you fucking losers!!” 

“Fuck…” Angel breathes.
“Let’s get out of here, legs.” 

Husk covers Angel with his wings like they’re a shield. They ascend the stairs two steps at a time, Husk practically dragging Angel away from the battle behind them. Something explodes, and Angel can’t help but sneak a glance of it between Husk’s feathers. The bottom of the stairs have been destroyed. Debris, blood and guts are covering the floor, soaking into the carpet. Something is definitely burning. And Alastor and Vox are locked together, tentacles intertwined with cables, in what might appear to be an embrace if it wasn’t for the murderous looks on both of their faces. Lucifer is in the air, his spear aimed at the gap between Vox’s red, glowing eyes. 

He takes the throw. 

And just like that, it’s over.

Husk is cursing up a storm, dragging Angel behind him in his hurry to get away. 

But just as they’re about to turn the corner, a chain manifests around Husk’s throat. 

For a split second, their eyes meet. Husk’s are wide, swimming with panic. He lets go of Angel’s hand. 

“Run.” 

Alastor janks the chain, and Husk is thrown to the floor. Angel gasps, watching him be dragged all the way back down the stairs, into the ruins. 

There, in the Hotel entrance, stands Alastor. He’s cradling Vox in one hand, and holding Husk’s leash in the other. He’d look almost gentle if it wasn’t for the dangerous green fire burning in his eyes. Vox is unconscious, his screen blue and cracked. 

“I believe this one belongs to you,” He says to someone Angel can’t see. 

Velvette steps out into the chaos, accepting Vox from out of Alastor’s arms. She carries him bridal-style, turning to Husk just to say: 

“Sorry, babe, the deal’s off. It wouldn’t have worked out between us, anyway.” 

Once all the guests are gone, Lucifer sighs, looking at the destruction in the lobby. His horns are shrinking, his wings fold, and by the time he’s done, his eyes are back to their usual yellow.

“Well this is a disaster!” He says, chipper as always. “Better get to work fixing the place up before Charlie wakes up. Come on, Niffty.” 

Niffty is still in the bar, sitting on the counter and giggling like a little maniac. As Lucifer passes, he grabs her by the neck and carries her into the ballroom. 

That’s when Cherri and her two snake-partners finally tumble out of the closet. They sneak away. 

Alastor turns his full attention to Husk. The look in his eyes makes Angel’s skin crawl. 

“How curious, for the cat to let rats into the pantry. Don’t tell me you were distracted , dear friend.”

Husk sits up, spitting a wad of blood on the floor. 

“I’m a bartender, not a fucking bouncer.”

“Angel Dust, be a dear and vacate the premises. I need a word with my employee.” 

“Please go,” Husk pleads, without taking his eyes off of Alastor. 

If Angel was the rational, self preserving kind of demon, he’d be high tailing it the fuck out of there. In a kingdom full of sociopathic, murderous assholes, Alastor is revered as one of the Greats. Even if Angel lived to be a thousand years old, he’d never stand a chance against the Radio Demon (who’d been killing thousand year-old demons since the moment he stepped foot in Hell). 

But Angel isn’t exactly known for his self-preservation skills. 

He takes a step forth, summoning his gatling gun. 

“I don’t care who the fuck you think you are. If you hurt him, I’ll make ya’ regret it.” 

Slowly, Alastor turns his gaze from Husk, to Angel. He chuckles, and the statics in the air grows so loud it hurts. Alastor’s features distort and grow, a bloody crown of thorns appearing around his skull. The shadows in the mansion vibrate, creeping towards Angel. 

“Care to repeat that, dear boy? I couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of your imminent fucking demise !” 

“Don’t you fucking touch him!” 

Husk rises from the rubble, wings and hackles raised. His body is changing too. Another pair of wings unfold, the symbols on them lighting up like fire. Playing cards are flying in the air around him. Angel’s never seen Husk’s demon form before. The one he sold his soul to keep. It’s beautiful.  

“Husk…” 

“Angel! Just--- fucking go already!” 

“You’re in violation of our contract, old friend,” Alastor says. He’s not smiling anymore. 

He tugs at the leash. This time, Husk catches it. He begins to pull, reeling Alastor in towards him. 

“Stop fooling around, Husker. You can’t hurt me,” Alastor snarls. “What do you think this little display will buy you?!” 

“Time.” 

Angel understands.  

Blood pounding, heart aching, he shoulders his gun and runs all the way to Charlie and Vaggie’s room. 

Vaggie’s halfway out the door already, wearing a nightgown and wielding her angelic spear. Charlie’s still in bed, earplugs in. She’s managed to snore her way through most of the party, and it’s Grand Finale. But when Angel wakes her and tells her what’s going on downstairs, she’s on her feet and sober in a fucking instance. 

Charlie’s demon form takes shape with every step. Somehow, it makes even her fluffy pink goat-slippers look intimidating. When they reach the lobby, her footprints are burning. 

Alastor is a shadowy, tentacled monstrosity, lurking at the foot of the stairs. Husk is a pile of bloody feathers at his feet. The sight of him makes Angel cry out. When the Princess of Hell speaks, it’s without a shred of fear or hesitation. 

“Alastor, that’s enough.” 

It’s as if she’s snuffed out a candle. The shadows around Alastor dissipate, and he turns to her with a disarming smile. 

Angel jumps down the broken staircase, pushing past Alastor to get to Husk. He puts a careful hand on his wing, wincing at the broken feathers. They’ve been clipped. Clumsily, aggressively clipped, right down to the flesh. 

“You sick fuck!” Angel spits. 

Alastor doesn’t spare him so much as a glance. 

“Charlie, my dear, what a pleasant surprise,” He says. “Oh, don’t bother yourself with this gruesome affair! I’m simply reminding our mutual friend here of the terms and conditions of our deal.” 

“Cut the bullshit, Alastor,” Vaggie raises his spear, aiming it at the Overlord. 

“If you’re going to stay here, you can never hurt him again,” Charlie says. “Not him, or any other resident or employee. Understood?”
“My dear, are you looking to sign another deal with me? You know I’m always amicable to serve my most precious client-” 

“This is not a deal, Alastor. It’s an order.” 

“And if you don’t follow it,” Vaggie says. “We’ll hunt you down, and mount your head on the mantelpiece.” 

Alastor’s grin twitches. The statics in the air screech. And then, they sizzle out. 

“Very well,” Alastor says, giving Charlie a mock bow. “Your wish is my command, Princess.” 

He slinks back into the shadows. 

Charlie relaxes, her demon form dissipating. 

“OoooOOOOh my GOD, that was TERRIFYING!” She shrieks. 

“You were amazing,” Vaggie comforts, shouldering her spear to hold Charlie’s hand. “Super hot.” 

She side eyes the fire still sizzling in the carpet. 

“Literally.” 

“Really? You think so?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe… maybe keep the horns? Just for tonight?” 

“You don’t think I was too harsh on him?”
“No, he was being an ass! He deserved way worse to be honest, are you sure I shouldn’t just kill him? It’s not like we really need him, anymore…” 

“No, no, he deserves a chance at redemption, too-” 

“You guys,” Angel begs. 

“Oh. Oh, Husk…” Charlie takes a step down the stairs, but Vaggie stops her. 

“Let’s give them some space, okay, babe?” 

“Okay…” 

Angel tunes them out, focusing on Husk. 

“Husk? Husk, hun, it’s alright. You’re safe now, I’m here… Please, please, darling, let me in, I just wanna see ya’-” 

The wings part, and a pair of hands grab at Angel. Darkness envelops him. Once Angel’s gotten used to it, their eyes meet. Husk’s are tearfilled and shellshocked. Angel cups his face. 

“Husky… are you okay?” 

Husk’s face contorts, a myriad of emotions passing by like a slot machine -- and then, he laughs. Shocked and stifled, it sounds like sobs, but the joy is genuine. 

He cups Angel’s face with both hands, hiccuping as he says:
“Thank you,” he hiccups. “Thank you, thank you.” 

“Husk-” 

Husk kisses him. 

It’s awkward, a little too hard with too many teeth, and Angel’s too shocked to respond at first, but then --- his heart soars. Crying and laughing in their own little nest of feathers, Angel peppers Husk’s face with kisses, and Husk kisses him right back. 

The following morning, Husk wakes up in Angel’s arms. 

Angel’s still wearing the dress, and his chest fluff is tickling Husk’s face. He can hardly believe his fucking luck. They’re safe. All they had to do was ask for help, and now, for the first time in decades, there’s room in Husk’s heart for hope. 

Watching Angel sleep, it floods him to the point of hurt. There’s not a good thing in Husk’s life that he hasn’t found a way to ruin. And Angel is so good. 

As on cue, Angel stirs. It’s freaking adorable. 

“Morning, handsome,” Angel yawns. 

“Now you’re a sight I could get used to,” Husk purrs. 

Angel blushes, trying to fix his hair. 

“Were you watching me sleep? You creep, I’m a mess!” 

“I like messes.” 

“Well that certainly explains a lot,” Angel side eyes the room.  

Husk kisses him, chaste and gentle. Angel hums into his mouth, and Husk falls in love all over again. Funny how that works. When he signed Alastor’s deal, locking his heart away with the terms and conditions, he didn’t think it much of a loss. It’s not like he ever had a serious relationship while living, why start now that he’s dead?  

But now-- he kisses Angel again. The hurt Alastor caused is nothing compared to this. 

By the time they part, Husk is purring. 

“I like creeps,” Angel says. 

“Ew.” 

“No, really, they’re kind of my type. Ask anyone.” 

“Please stop.”        

 “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever slept with someone without also, y’know,” Angel makes a lewd gesture. “porking them, too.” 

“So I’m your first? Lucky me.”                                                   

“And here I thought I was shit out of virginities!” 

They trade some more quips, laughs and kisses. As the kissing grows more heated, Angel’s nibbles turn into bites. Husk squirms, overwhelmed with the feeling of all six of Angel’s hands on him.
“Let me take care of ya’, honey…” 

In the afterglow, Husk pulls a deck of cards out and begins to shuffle. 

“Now let me show you the real reason they say I’m magical in bed…” 

He offers Angel the deck, who accepts a card with a fond roll of his eyes before he gives it back again. Husk shuffles it back into the deck. 

“Really? Cuz’ the last time we did this, you kinda stunk at it,” Angel teases.  

“Is THIS your card?” 

“WOOAAAAAAAH! You’ve been practicing!” 

A couple of magic tricks, a shower and multiple sloppy makeout sessions later, Angel realizes that Husk’s been poisoned. Not by anything Alastor did, but by Angel’s love bites. Woups. 

“It’s fine, baby…” Husk drawls, nuzzling Angel’s shoulder as he prepares to head out for an antidote. “It’s just an allergic reaction, I’ll be fine… stay in bed,” 

Turns out that spider venom makes Husk affectionate. Affectionate, and stupid. He’s stumbling around like a very sleepy drunk. It’s adorable. 

Angel leads Husk back to bed, tucking him in. 

“I’ll be gone thirty minutes, tops.” 

But Husk’s already snoring. Angel presses a kiss to Husk’s temple before he sneaks out. 

Luckily, no one spots him weaseling out of Husk’s room. He makes a quick pitstop in his bedroom, feeding Fat Nuggets, taking a quick shower and changing into his most inconspicuous outfit. 

It’s early afternoon, and he can hear muffled voices coming from the direction of the kitchen. He’s able to walk out of the (now completely restored, albeit dusty) hotel without anyone noticing. 

But upon his return, his shopping bag is immediately snatched out of his arms by a grinning Cherri Bomb. Seems like the gang’s moved from the kitchen to the lobby. 

Charlie and Vaggie are sitting by the bar, eating day after-pizza. Niffty is swinging from the chandelier, and Lucifer is sprawled out across the stairs looking like some kind of hungover, deflated balloon-creature. 

“What’cha got there, babe?” Cherri heckles, rummaging through Angel’s stuff. “Morning after-pills? Lube?” 

“Fuck you, Cherri Bomb! Give that back!” 

But it’s too late. 

She frowns, holding up the bottle of medication for all prying eyes to see. 

“What the fuck is this?” 

Vaggie steps closer, inspecting the bottle.
“Spider venom antidote…? Why would you buy spider venom anti---? Oooooooooh,” 

She grins. 

“No. No, Vaggie, shut up!” 

“You BIT someone?!” Lucifer exclaims. “Please tell me it was Alastor.”
“Oooohhhh my GOSH I’m SO happy for you guys I could just --- IIIIIH!” Charlie shrieks, making Lucifer groan and shield his ears. “I have to run upstairs and update my shipping cart!!”
“No, Charlie, ya’ don’t underst- wait. Your WHAT?!” 

“Angel…?” 

Husk comes down the stairs, looking high out of his mind. He stumbles over Lucifer, into Angel’s waiting arms. Once there, he leans his entire weight against him, rubbing his head against Angel’s chest. Angel’s heart squeezes. Husk is purring like crazy, scenting him, in front of EVERYONE. 

Charlie’s squeals are so high pitched they’re barely audible. 

“Shut up,” Angel glares at Vaggie and Cherri, who are fighting a losing battle against the giggles. 

When Alastor appears, Husk is too out of it to even notice. He gives the two of them a quizzical look, before shrugging his shoulders. 

“They’re cute, I suppose.” 

He manifests the contract, and scratches a part of it with a swift stroke of green ink. 

“The contractor mustn’t entertain any romantic or sexual relationships.” 

Angel turns back to Husk. 

“What’s wrong, baby? You should be resting.”
“I woke up. You weren’t there.” 

“There, there… Let’s get you back into bed, okay?”  

Angel bundles him up and carries him, bridal style, up the stairs. And because he’s, at heart, just a little bit of a selfish asshole, he carries Husk to his room this time. 

Mine, he thinks, bundling him up in the warm blanket-nest of his bed. You’re mine. 

He’s never invited anyone into his room before. Never wanted to. 

“Husk?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m not scared anymore.” 

“That’s good… ’m fucking terrified… Angel?” 

“Yes, love?” 

“Is that a dildo poking at my back?” 

“Probably.” 

“It’s-”
“The feline model. Yes.” 

“Pfft. You-- you weirdo…” Husk chuckles. Angel watches Fat Nugget snuggle up to Husk, and sigh a dreamier sigh than he ever thought possible. “love you.” 

And because Angel isn’t scared, not even a little bit, he doesn’t hesitate to say: 

“I love you too.”