Chapter Text
The realization creeps up slowly and quietly. And the day that he and Cherri sit in his room watching a movie isn't the first time he realizes it, but it is the first time he says it out loud.
"Hey Cherri?"
There was no oh shit moment. He couldn't point to a day on a calendar and say "that's when it happened." He's not entirely sure when it went from a suspicion to a fact, but it sure is a fact now.
"I think I'm falling for Husk."
So, no, he isn't just now coming to that realization. But he is beginning to be terrified of it.
Cherri doesn't even pause the shitty old romcom on the tv. "No shit, dude. I'm not blind."
The tv is an odd patchwork of parts. Baxter put it together after overhearing Angel remark that watching television still made him nervous after everything with Vox.
The fish was a weird little guy, and they still didn't talk much, but Angel had come to understand that random shit like this was what Baxter considered friendship, and Angel appreciated it. Besides, it was nice to be able to watch tv without worrying he'd be brainwashed. And he kinda liked how fucked up and ugly the patchwork tv looked. It was everything Voxtech— or, Veetech— hated.
"No, but like, seriously." Angel flops over dramatically so his head is sitting on top of hers, "It's bad."
And it is bad. As much as his whining sounds like a joke, it is really fucking bad.
Attraction is fine, desire is fine, dumb horny shit is fine. Even crushes are okay, though that's kinda pushing it.
But this is really, really bad.
"I don't see the problem." Cherri shoves some popcorn in her mouth, chewing with her mouth open as she talks, "You like him. He obviously likes you, I know you're not dumb enough to not notice it. Val's gone so he can't get mad. And Husk's a good guy."
Angel wants to smash his head against a wall. He settles for hiding his face in Cherri's hair. "UGHHHHH, that's exactly the fuckin problem."
And at this Cherri does pause the tv. Even with Angel playing his frustration like a joke, she sees through it. She's good at that. And she's gotten even better at it since she started staying at the hotel. Angel swears she's turned into a fuckin mind-reader.
With the movie paused the room feels too quiet. It isn't two friends gossiping about crushes and relationships. It's a serious, genuine conversation.
"Alright. Which part's the problem? Cuz I ain't seeing it."
Shit. Angel was kinda hoping to vent his anxieties without actually saying them. He kinda just wanted to say it was bad and awful and stupid and move on.
(If he's honest with himself though, he was kinda hoping Cherri would ask. Give him the excuse to talk about it.)
…all of it is the problem.
"Just like—" Angel flounders now, struggling to find words once the conversation is being taken seriously, "… him? Me? Y'know?"
"I really don't, Angie. You're gonna need to give a little more than that."
Angel shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth to give himself time to think.
Husk is nice to him.
Husk makes him feel safe.
Husk is funny.
He makes Angel feel special.
"Sometimes he reminds me of Val."
The words leave Angel's mouth before he thinks about them. He regrets it immediately. But they're the first words he feels describe it right.
Cherri doesn't say anything. She just leans back against Angel's chest to look up at him, her face scrunched up in concern and a bit of anger. Not at him, but just, like, generally. Like she's getting ready to shank someone if Angel expressed the need. Honestly, if Angel had said that about anyone other than Husk, she'd probably already be getting up to go kill them.
"Not— not him, I mean! He hasn't done anything wrong." Angel backpedals quickly, "Not him, but…"
How Angel feels less on-guard with Husk.
How he forgets to be cautious.
How he trusts Husk.
How he's vulnerable.
"… I guess me. I feel like I did when I first met Val."
Husk isn't anything like Val. Val was suave and expressive and complimentary. He bought Angel gifts and called him constantly and surprised him by showing up at Angel's work—the work Angel had before joining Val's studio, performing in a hole-in-the-wall club. Valentino was always surprising Angel, but it was good. It was always nice surprises.
Until it wasn't.
Husk is gruff and sarcastic and observant. He remembers Angel's favorite drinks and he reminds Angel to eat. He complains about the dumb reality shows Angel makes him watch, but always watches them anyway. He always notices when Angel is having an off day. He's always there when Angel needs him. Husk is consistent, and it's good. It's good right now.
So, no, Husk isn't anything like Val. They're completely different. It's Angel who's the same. Angel who feels giddy when Husk makes him food, the same way he felt giddy when Valentino bought him jewelry. Angel who drinks up every drop of attention like water— maybe more like vodka with how intoxicating it is. Angel who trusts him to watch his drinks. Who feels safe enough to fall asleep around him. Who lets his guard down.
Angel, who was a fucking idiot last time.
Cherri hums and pops another piece of popcorn in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Well. You dont have'ta date him. Can't blame you for being nervous. You can just… stay friends with him."
That's, well, that's true. But that idea makes Angel feel miserable too. Just continuing how things are when there's all these feelings crawling around under his skin?
"That isn't what I want though."
"Soooo you do want to date him."
"Yes? No! Fuck, I dunno, Cherri. I just—" his voice falters a little, "I just wanna know it'll go okay this time."
"… Val was the first dude you dated-dated, huh."
Angel nods, but he doesn't really need to. Cherri already knows that, she's just thinking out loud.
"…man. And that was, what, forty-ish years ago?"
"Yep. The seventies."
"Man."
The rest of it goes unsaid. The last time Angel fell for someone, it led to forty years of… well, of abuse.
Fuck, he still hates calling it that. He sounds like a battered housewife. Charlie says he should though. Not downplay it or whatever.
"Well. Husk doesn't have your soul. If things go bad, you can always just break it off."
"Yeah, but…"
But Husk lives here. In the hotel.
What if it does go bad? What if this ends up just as bad as Valentino? Even just half as bad.
If Angel needed to escape Husk, that'd mean he'd have to leave the hotel too.
And this place is safe now. He's… settled here. He has his room and his friends and food and security. Sure, he could find somewhere else to stay easy enough, but it wouldn't be the same.
The idea of leaving the hotel again makes him want to vomit.
He laughs instead. "… it'd be pretty awkward living in the same building as an ex. 'Specially if he's the bartender, cuz you know I ain't avoiding the bar."
Fuck, and Alastor owns both their souls. Who's to say they wouldn't have to work together even if Angel left? Maybe Alastor wouldn't even let Angel leave.
"Well," Cherri elbows Angel lightly, "we could always live in a shitty apartment together again."
"Ha! True."
It's a nice thought.
But it wouldn't be the same.
If it would even be possible.
"Seriously though Angie," her voice softens. "I don't think it would come to that. But there's no rush, y'know? We're dead. You got an eternity to make a move. Or to not make a move. Whichever."
"…yeah." That's true. He has time. It doesn't… fix it. Not really. He's still terrified. And confused. And a damn flustered mess around Husk sometimes— which is insane because he's a literal fuckin porn star. Ex-porn star. Whatever.
But he doesn't have to decide anything right now. It loosens the knot of anxiety in his gut, just a little. "Now unpause the movie, this next scene's iconic."
"Problematic and aged badly?"
"You know it baby!"