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Drowning in Fluff, Love, and Smirnoff

Summary:

"Wow, ah, Husk..." Angel stared, mouth still slightly agape, "You really put a lot of care into your fur, huh?"

Husk always wears that goddamn hat. No-one would be surprised if he wore it to sleep at this point.

Angel just had to know what was under there.

This couldn't possibly go wrong.

Notes:

i haven't written a fic in literally over a year. the things i do for these gays...

this was mostly a little warm-up to get me used to writing again so please point out any errors or awkward pacing/storytelling or anything!! enjoy the fellas

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

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"Angel, look, you really gotta stop crashing at my bar right when I'm closin' up." Husk grumbled, no real anger behind his voice, "You're givin' me extra dishes to clean."

Angel looked across to Husk tiredly, lounging over most of the bar stools and keeping his head up on the bar by resting it on his hand. Sprawled out like this, Husk could see the full extent of Angel's lanky figure, all arms and legs with no actual mass to him. He could also see just about where Angel's blazer was riding up his stomach, barely showing off his waist and hips. Husk would be lying if he said he didn't look there.

In fact, Husk would be lying if he said that he didn't look at Angel at any given opportunity. No-one could blame him: Angel was elusive, possibly the most sought-after man in all of Hell, with that perfect body and sweet grin and sickly voice. It was the exact contradiction to Husk's dark gruffness -- a fact that didn't upset him. He dealt with enough shit as a bartender, let alone whatever Angel put up with on the daily.

All it meant was that Husk had no chance with Angel. It was okay. He was just like the other 99% of people lusting over the guy. It didn't matter that what Husk felt was much more than lust, or that he'd try so damn hard to be better than those other suckers, or that he was a little hurt by his impossible chances.

Angel was pretty; Husk had no chance. He'd accepted it. It was fine.

It was fine.

"Ain't my fault that you're always open when I come home from work, kitty." Angel retorted, "Almost like you're waitin' up for me."

Angel chuckled at the thought, leaving Husk to firmly spin away from him and pretend to clean a glass in a vain attempt to cover the embarrassment that bubbled in his chest. He cleared his throat. Husk would never, ever, stay open for just long enough to make sure that Angel made it home okay every night. What a stupid thought.

Husk huffed out a light laugh as he tried to ignore the flustering warmth that spread from his cheeks down his body like a flower taking root.

"As if. I'd rather be sleepin' than waiting up for your drunken ass to come in and order right as I'm about to leave." Husk retaliated, rolling his eyes although Angel couldn't see anything but his back.

There was silence. That's one of the things Husk enjoyed about staying up late: the hotel took on this still quietness which made him feel relaxed and alone. In fact, he was quite comfortable being all by himself for the most part. If he really had to be honest with himself, Angel was the only person whose company he actually put effort towards.

Don't get him wrong, it's not like Husk didn't care about the others. Well, maybe "care" is a strong word, but he did enjoy their company and entertain their conversation with his dry wit comments and occasional advice. He liked the others, mostly. It was just that he never chose to see them; they just appeared in front of him and he was dragged into whatever activity they were doing.

He chose to see Angel. Every night, staying up late just to see him for a few minutes.

Damn. He really went from an all-powerful overlord, to a nervous queer with a giddy schoolboy crush. Talk about a fall from fame.

It had been silent for too long. Husk was just about to turn around again to face Angel -- maybe to finally work up the courage to offer a hug or a shoulder to cry on -- but, before he could, he felt something change.

Husk's hat was swept from his head.

He spun around violently, about to curse or complain, when he saw Angel holding it between loose fingers. He was expecting an expression of smugness or triumph on that stupid spidery face, but Husk was only met with a dropped jaw.

"Wow, ah, Husk..." Angel stared, mouth still slightly agape, "You really put a lot of care into your fur, huh?"

This time, Husk couldn't spin around before he started flushing bright red from embarrassment. He'd always taken immaculate care of his head fur, putting the extra effort into keeping it light and fluffy while the rest of his body got no such treatment. It was something he took massive pride in. Psychoanalyse it or whatever, call it a way to have control in his life, but it was Husk's thing and he loved it.

He never took his hat off in front of the others for fear of judgement or humility. Just imagine: the rough, sturdy bartender with a permanent scowl, had an in-depth hair care routine. He'd curl up into a ball and simply die. And here it was, the moment he'd been dreading: Angel would laugh at him and tell all of the others, then they'd all know he was nothing but a phony.

No point in fighting it now. Husk squeezed his eyes shut and winced, ready for the laughter or mocking or whatever. Any minute now. He... He...

He felt a soft hand on his head. Startled, Husk jerked his eyes open and looked up to see Angel bent awkwardly over the counter, a hand buried deep in Husk's fur.

Husk blinked. Once, twice.

"What..? The fuck is this?" He huffed, getting defensive and not letting his guard down quite yet, "Can I have my hat--"

Angel started massaging his head, stroking and petting the fur there like you would to an animal. As much as he'd hate to admit it, Husk's shoulders relaxed and he felt his body becoming limp as the petting between his ears set off something primal within him. Below his breath, barely noticeable, he began to purr.

There were a few moments of this. Husk couldn't say that he minded one bit -- the only downside was that it was making him drowsy, enveloped in the warm pats like he hadn't felt a gentle touch in years, and maybe he hadn't. Too soon, Angel pulled his hand away again, making Husk all too aware of how cold and vulnerable he now felt.

In a huff, Husk snatched his hat back and straightened it onto his head. Angel still sat on the counter after having leaned over to pet him, so Husk glared at him playfully.

"Don't sit on the bar." Angel immediately clambered down onto a stool, not breaking his shocked eye contact with Husk. This kind of awe was sparkling in his eyes which made Husk feel like his heart was taking off, "And don't think this is an invite for you to see my hair anytime either, prick."

"But- But Huskerr..." Angel whined, dragging out the name longer than necessary. He tried his puppy-dog eyes on the bartender to no avail. Husk was stronger than that.

"No buts. No ifs. And definitely no exceptions." Husk spat. He was still shocked that Angel seemed to find his fur cute, or charming, or anything except what he'd expected. In all honesty, the feeling of being pet was so blissfully sweet and relaxing, but he just couldn't let Angel see him so weak again. Not that Angel had bad intentions; Husk was simply, well, paranoid.

If the news got back to Alastor, then he'd... Husk would...

He wouldn't risk it.

"Ain't it time that you headed to bed?" Without waiting for an answer, Husk headed out from behind the bar to stand next to Angel, waiting for him to haul ass back to his room. Angel looked thoughtful almost, like he couldn't quite figure something out. Despite this, he stood without much fuss and let Husk walk him up to his room like he usually did on these late nights. Angel stood in the doorway.

"I'm gonna feel that fur again." He declared, a smug glint appearing in his eyes and grin, "Even if it kills me for the second time."

Husk smiled, though he tried to fight it, and just slammed Angel's door closed without so much as a "goodnight". He knew he'd be seeing Angel in the morning anyway.

For now, Husk had to head to his own room, curling into a fluffy ball on his bed and replaying the moment over and over in his mind, as if it'd disappear if it left his thoughts for more than a second.

He dozed off like that, thoughts racing of Angel's gentle touch and what could await him tomorrow.

...

Turns out, he'd be greeted with a certain annoying spider and his habit of not letting things rest.

"Mornin', kitty." Angel purred, sprawled out over the sofa as he usually was, lanky limbs spilling over and hanging off the edges. Husk slouched past him groggily, throwing up a middle finger and lifting the door to his bar. He assumed his regular place and slouched onto the bar face-first. Angel winced, "Gee, didn't sleep well, huh?"

"Go fuck yourself, Angel." Husk retorted creatively, voice muffled by the wooden counter. At the sound of heeled footsteps coming towards him, his ears pricked and he lazily pulled himself up just in time to see Angel sit at the bar. Angel leaned over.

"Listen, toots," He started in a hushed voice, "I dunno why you still gotta keep up this rough-n-tumble bad boy act. I just saw you purring like a kitty at being pet between the ears. I know you ain't that tough."

"Well, no-one else gotta know that, do they?" Husk growled back as he pointed a claw onto the bar authoritatively. Angel only shrugged, looking him up and down in the way that he always did before averting his eyes to the side.

"Eh, I'm just sayin'. Wouldn't hurt you to let loose around me every once in a while."

"Didn't I tell you last night that it ain't happening again?"

"Yeah? We'll see how long that lasts." Angel grinned cheekily and turned on his heel and to head back to the sofa, leaving Husk to his peace. He rest his head on the bar again.

At the core of it, Husk probably just didn't trust the others enough. How could he? Being an overlord -- especially a gambling man -- severed any trust or positivity that he could muster. Everyone was a cheater or a fake: it turned a man into a cynic after all those years. When Husk smelt flowers, he looked around for the funeral; when he felt proud, he waited for the next thing to tear him down.

When he fell in love with a porn star, he knew it could never be. If he had a choice, he'd never dwell on any of it, but of course his mind chose to wander instead. Absent daydreams about caring for Angel, protecting him from weirdos, holding him close as they both drifted to sleep. But it'd simply never be.

Whatever.

That night, Angel went out again, and so that night, Husk stayed open late again.

Angel stumbled through the doors earlier than usual, not wasting any time in making a beeline for Husk's bar and forcefully sitting himself down on the same stool as usual. There were no words needed: Husk had his go-to drink memorised by this point. Of course he did. It was made silently and placed in front of him, but Angel made no move to grab it.

"Somethin' wrong with it?" Husk pried, even though he knew there wasn't. It was a gateway for Angel to explain why he was sitting there, so still and silent, staring into the distance.

"Hah?" Angel startled and his entire demeanour shifted, "Nah, perfect as always, whiskers. I just ain't feeling it tonight. Got something else on my mind."

"Oh?" Husk took the glass of alcohol and poured it down the drain before grabbing a rag and beginning to wipe it.

"Well..." Angel took a deep breath, "Yesterday. Your hat. Look, it ain't any sappy shit so don't get the wrong idea, but petting you was nice. Soft. Kinda... made me forget it all for a moment."

"So?" Husk grumbled, forcing his walls to stay up and his tough face to be unwavering. Even if he felt a spike of joy at the validation or a bubbling sense of love deep in his stomach, Angel couldn't know that.

"So... I wanna pet you again."

Husk tensed. Angel stared right at him, so sure of himself and sturdy that Husk nearly said 'yes' just on instincts. The gaze was unfaltering, a burn scorching into his fur and making his skin fizz with an electric feeling. Within the moment, Husk had cleared his throat and set the glass down.

"I told you, it was j--"

"A one time thing, yeah, sure. But c'mon Husk!" Angel leant over the bar sweetly, "Some part of you has gotta admit that you enjoyed it!"

"What's it to you?"

Angel sighed. He must've realised that this conversation was going in circles because, without another word of discussion, he stood and brushed down his blazer. Husk hurried out from behind the bar, grumbling to himself about the suddenness of Angel's departure and preparing to walk him to his room as usual.

But Angel was already storming down the upstairs hallway before he got a chance.

Husk didn't sleep well.

...

On the third day, Husk slept in. Majorly. He enjoyed being up in the morning hours so he could set up his bar for the day and listen in on the conversations of the others, but it had already turned midday and he was only just deciding to get out of bed. Not like anyone came up to check on him anyway; he could take as long as he wanted.

The day was shit and he hadn't even left his room. His fur felt matted and unclean, the sleepiness still clogged his eyes and made him feel drowsy, and in all honesty, he did not want to face Angel today. For all his wisdom, Husk was awfully relationship-blind. It was impossible to grasp where he and Angel stood after the encounter.

Husk didn't want there to be a rift between him and Angel, he fucking loved the guy for Lucifer's sake. So were they just going to act like it didn't happen? What if Angel held a grudge? Did they need to, like, talk it out and do 'restorative tasks' like Charlie advocated? Or was it all completely fine?

The doubt was the part that troubled him. Just like gambling: even a seed of doubt could lose you the whole pot. Knowing stuff was a good chunk of his career and skillset -- when it was challenged, he felt weak and unsure. It sucked. It all sucked.

Whatever. The pity party couldn't last forever. Husk found it in himself to fall out of bed and get dressed, brush his teeth, all of the important shit. He glanced in the mirror and saw a sad, tired, abandoned shell.

Foggily, Husk trudged down the stairs and approached the main lobby. He expected to be greeted by some kind of snide comment from Alastor or a cheerful Charlie who invited him to the day's activities. An annoyed Vaggie for him being late, or an overexcited Niffty. Anyone. Anything.

Anything but this.

Angel slouched in his place on the couch, gesturing animatedly and complaining to Charlie and Vaggie. They both sat together, reacting empathetically to whatever Angel was ranting about, with small head nods and comforting smiles. Husk had just about reached the bottom of the staircase and was now in earshot of their conversation.

"And his fur is just- just so fluffy!" Angel exclaimed, "Under that hat, it's all furballs and silk!! I wanna feel it again but he just- he won't let me!"

And it all came crashing down.

Husk spun clumsily and stormed back upstairs, only rushing faster when he heard Angel and Charlie call out to him in confusion. Husk just kept stomping away, up past everyone else's rooms and straight to his, slamming the door shut with enough force that the room shook. His eyes were stinging and a ball formed right in the top of his throat, threatening a sob or whimper to spill out of it if he didn't grit his teeth hard enough.

No footsteps came down the hall after him.

Good.

It wasn't every day that Husk lost his composure, and he refused to let it happen now. He stood in the middle of his room unmovingly, just breathing hard and tensing his muscles to keep his emotions at bay. Years and years of doing exactly this, hiding away his fears and insecurities, yet this time it was just too much.

This hotel, these people, Angel -- they all meant too much now. He couldn't just ignore their comments or conversations because they actually mattered to him. But this- this-

This reminded him of why he didn't want to fucking care.

Husk hadn't even realised that he was silently crying, the tears flattening his fur and probably making him look ugly or pathetic or whatever. It almost took effort to be self-insulting at this point.

Through the small hiccups and shaky breaths, Husk fumbled open a drawer on his bedside and pulled out a trusty bottle of vodka. It was the good stuff, too good to stock in the bar, that he needed to keep for himself. For days just like this. Bottle in hand, Husk headed to his bathroom and began running the hot water into the bathtub. He set the bottle onto the side of the tub and started stripping down to only his underwear.

It didn't take long for the bath to fill up: it was kind of a shitty little thing, but it worked for his purposes so there was no need to bother Charlie about it. Husk climbed into the warm bath and allowed himself to breathe, his eyes still badly stinging and the lump in his throat tighter than ever. With a heavy huff, he grabbed the bottle of alcohol and pried it open, taking a few big gulps to wash down his emotions.

It didn't work.

The thought of what happened still left a bitter, foul taste in his mouth (or maybe that was the vodka) and he scowled at the thought. It was over. Everything he had built with Angel, ruined. Fuck, everything he had made for himself was ruined. It couldn't be long before Alastor found out about Husk's embarrassing secret and, fuck dude, Husk didn't even want to be around when that happened. Maybe the extermination was a good thing after all: easy way out for him after this.

Another swig of alcohol.

I mean, fuck, it was hopeless. He'd spent years of time and effort into building up this stoic version of himself, the personality that he could actually stand, and now it was crashing down on him. All revealed to be a ruse, an elaborate illusion like he used to do. Nothing but a phony. What would Charlie think of him? What did Angel think of him? It couldn't be good after this.

Another swig.

The door knocked.

"Husk?" He didn't move. Angel's voice was muffled through the wooden doors of the room and the bathroom respectively, but it was still so recognisable. More knocking.

"Husk? You in there?" There was a pause when Husk thought that he might've given up. Instead, he heard his room door opening and Angel's shoes against the wood. Another pause -- probably him assessing the situation or something -- before the knock finally came at the bathroom door.

"Husker?"

Husk closed his eyes and breathed. The warm water did a good job of relaxing his tense muscles and clearing his throat of the thickness that had built up in it. His arm hung limply over the edge of the bathtub, bottle held in a loose grip and nearly grazing the floor. He shifted, enjoying the gentle noise of water lapping, but didn't open his eyes.

"I'm in here." He croaked, voice rough with emotion. His ears pricked at Angel's nervous shuffling behind the door.

"Can I, ah, come in?"

Husk thought for a moment, opening his eyes now. His head hurt.

"Yeah, sure."

Angel slowly creeped open the door, poking his head around to see Husk lying drunkenly in the bath. He almost let out a small sigh of relief before he inched through the barely-open door and closed it behind him. The air had a light steam filling it from the warm water, making Husk's vision even foggier than it already was with booze. Holding back a smirk, he watched as Angel awkwardly tried to position himself, finally settling on perching on the edge of the closed toilet seat. He'd never actually seen Angel acting this uncertain of himself before. The guy never acted like he was worried about overstepping except right now.

There was a beat of quiet. It was obvious to Husk that Angel hadn't exactly prepared what he wanted to say, but his improv wasn't doing him any favours either. Husk leant back and closed his eyes again, listening to the soft movement of water.

"I... I wanted to apologise." Angel started clumsily before hesitating again.

"Go on then." Husk hummed.

"I'm sorry. For... um... being so stubborn about petting you." He worked his way through the sentence, voice lowered in something like shame. Probably was hurting his pride to do this shit. Husk held up the hand with a bottle in it, cutting Angel off, then took a drink.

"That ain't what I'm upset about." He let his arm hang over the edge again, "You took a secret that you weren't meant to know, and you told it to other people. I was fine with it because it was between us. It ain't everyone else's business, Angel. It was barely your business."

He didn't open his eyes still, but he knew the guilty expression that Angel was wearing. It was crystal clear in his mind. Shoulders tensed, looking at the floor, wincing almost.

"Look, I'm... I'm sorry, Husk. I just- Hm..." Angel thought, his voice small, "I just thought it was so cute. I figured Charlie would be able to help me, uh, figure out how to gain your trust for you to let me do it again. But I guess that was kind of a dick thing to do, huh?" He laughed nervously, breathless and humourless, "I guess... I didn't know you were so private about it. Probably shoulda guessed after everything you said but, I dunno, it just didn't set in. So yeah. I'm sorry."

Husk hummed.

"And- And it's fine if you don't forgive me, or--"

"You're fine." Angel stopped suddenly, so Husk continued, "I know I had, uh, a bit of a reaction. 'Cause, yeah, you did hurt me and my trust by doing that. And you're an idiot for it." He smiled, "But you're not an evil idiot. It weren't on purpose. You didn't... have any bad intentions. You're just stupid." Husk laughed and squinted his eyes open to look at Angel, who was now smiling nervously, "And you're stubborn, too! Persistent."

"Aha, yeah, so I've heard..." Angel laughed, shifting in his seat and fidgeting with his gloves. Husk let out a laugh too before pushing himself to sit up in the tub.

"You're fine, Angel. Just... think before you go spilling other people's secrets, got it?"

"Yeah, got it." Angel smiled, becoming more comfortable and relaxing himself. Husk smiled back.

"You can, uh..." Husk looked away sheepishly, "Gee. Uh, you can pet me again. If you want."

"Well, do you- want me to?" Angel hesitated. Husk breathed deeply.

"Yeah." He lifted a claw to hold the back of his neck nervously, "It's... nice. I enjoy it."

Angel smiled softly. He stood from the toilet seat and instead kneeled on the floor in front of the bathtub, resting an arm on the side of the tub. Gently, he took the vodka from Husk's grip and set it aside. They locked eyes and Angel hesitated once again, but Husk just rolled his eyes and smiled, sinking himself down to an easier height to reach.

Taking this as confirmation, Angel laughed through his nose and reached out, settling his hand in that soft patch of fur again and stroking. It felt so damn good that Husk started purring again, leaning into the touch this time and not bothering with any snarky or insulting comments. Angel laughed happily, reaching both hands out now to pet and scratch the only part of his fur that was still dry of bath water.

Husk couldn't help the content smile that grew on his face as he closed his eyes. It was just so damn gentle and soft. Is this what he'd been missing out on this whole time?

Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Angel eventually untangled himself from Husk's fur and leant back, grinning happily.

"Okay, okay. That was good." Angel beamed, "Thank you."

"Thank you." Husk replied, sinking back into his bath and smiling at Angel, "Was nice. Maybe I'll even let you do it again if you're lucky."

Smiling even wider now, Angel laughed and looked away from Husk, "Hey, no obligation for you to let me, but... Yeah, yeah, that sounds nice! Be careful though, keep being that soft and cute, and I might just fall in love!"

Husk startled, looking away quickly.

"Get out of my bathroom!!" He barked, firmly facing the wall as Angel did exactly that, giggling to himself the whole time. The moment that door closed again, Husk sunk even further into the bath and submerged his entire head.

That damn spider.

Notes:

you're a loser, baby