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Husk and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Summary:

Husk hated this. He really fucking hated this. All he wanted was a bit of peace and rest, a day to himself for recovery from his shit painful leg bones, but he knew that not going would only get him bothered and nagged at. At least going down there with the others might get him a bit of fresh air and natural light, he reasoned. And booze.

Husk wakes up as he usually does, but today is a little different: his legs feel like they're being stabbed. Just his luck.

(Husk disability fic)

Notes:

this is full-on author projection onto Husk. he is my little guy and i WILL make him feel pain

i'm not happy with this one to be honest :( i lost motivation but i went "fuck it" and uploaded it anyway. just a bit of hastily-written projection. hope you enjoy!

(and dw, i'll be back with a more thought-out huskerdust fic soon. which will be beta-read too! woo!)

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

Work Text:

Husk had good days, and he had bad days. This was a bad day.

His legs were fucking killing him. The bones felt like they were shattered and bending backwards, too tight and stiff to position comfortably like a neglected doll. Every movement to try and find comfort was a horrible, tender agony, and each second that passed made him more restless and stiff.

No way he could get out of bed. He could barely move, let alone stand or walk. The room spun around him when he tried to sit up, a thumping pressure brewing at the front of his head and his vision unable to really focus on anything.

It hadn't been this bad in so long -- not since he'd joined the hotel. Before this, when he was an overlord, it didn't matter if he didn't face anyone all day and wallowed in his solitude: he had people for that, who could cancel all of his commitments or attend them for him. But at the hotel?

He was a stand-alone man now.

Eventually, he gave up on becoming comfortable. The discomfort was buried far too deep in his bones for anything to really help, so he just laid back and let his legs ache harshly. It throbbed but there was nothing he could do. Defeated, he grabbed the remote from his bedside and switched on the TV.

Vox's face filled the screen and Husk shifted again, fruitless in every attempt to ease his uncomfortable bones. It was something he had always suffered with, even before he died, but he'd never felt a need to confide it in anyone or get it checked out or whatever. In his viewpoint, it just happened sometimes and he dealt with it, like he did with everything else.

Husk couldn't say that he was sure of how long he'd been aching uncomfortably, shifting every two seconds and mindlessly watching TV, when a knock came at the door. Pausing the show, Husk let out a sort of grunt of confirmation. Charlie opened the door, smiling at Husk excitedly.

"Heyyyy Husk," She started, voice happy and enthusiastic as always, "I was wondering if you were gonna come down today...? You know, join in on the activities!"

"Fuck off." Husk graciously replied. There wasn't any real annoyance behind it, of course not, but her happy grin and working legs made him want to sink into the bed and never rise back up. He couldn't quite put his finger on it -- something in him was upset at seeing her so normal. For a moment, Husk considered if he was a bad person for that. Probably.

"Wellll... We'll all be downstairs if you wanna join!" Charlie grinned, backing out of the door until Vaggie appeared behind her, stopping her in Husk's doorway. They spoke amongst themselves for a moment; Husk could've listened but he just laid his head back and closed his eyes, becoming aware of the thumping still in his head and legs. Before his respite could last long, Vaggie was talking to him.

"Husker." She started firmly. He didn't move. "You're a part of this hotel. I think it's only fair that you act the part and join us for this one."

"I didn't ask to be here, did I?" Husk grumbled in response, opening one eye to see Vaggie with crossed arms and a nervous Charlie behind her, "If you've got a problem, take it up with Alastor."

Vaggie opened her mouth to speak again, looking as authoritative and stern as ever, but Charlie piped up before she could.

"Look... For this hotel, we all need to work together. It's not going to go anywhere unless everyone makes an effort to be involved and part of the community!" She stepped closer, "You're always down there, Husk, even if you're just behind the bar. And we like that!" Vaggie nudged her gently, "So, um, as Princess of Hell... I.. I would like you to come downstairs!"

Husk hated this. He really fucking hated this. All he wanted was a bit of peace and rest, a day to himself for recovery from his shit bones, but he knew that not going would only get him bothered and nagged at. At least going down there might get him a bit of fresh air and natural light, he reasoned. And booze.

"Alright, alright. Just... Let me get down in my own time." He compromised, the dread in his stomach already sinking in. Some part of him considered just telling them what was happening, explaining his situation and why he simply couldn't join in today, but...

It felt weak. Husk prided himself on pushing through things like these: the big, brave gambler who faced anything that came his way with a glint in his eye and an ace up his sleeve. The first big hit to this ego of his involved a certain radio demon some while ago (and fuck, it hit hard), so he was determined to not let it happen again. Not in the hotel. Not with Alastor there.

Charlie seemed more bubbily, agreeing to give Husk his space and heading down the stairs with Vaggie, leaving the door nice and wide for him. How thoughtful. Reluctantly, but now married to his fate, Husk struggled to push himself up and pull the blanket off of himself. He could vaguely hear the muffled voices coming from downstairs, laughing and playful, and he briefly wondered why he even needed to be involved when they were perfectly content as they were. This wasn't something he was bitter about: it was a simple fact that he wasn't a core member of the group like Charlie or Angel were, and he was happy with this. Sitting at the bar in the background was kind of his thing. He'd had his time in the spotlight.

Made him feel like a true has-been.

Still sitting, Husk grabbed a pair of neatly-folded trousers from the floor and struggled to pull them up his stiffened legs, each subtle bend aching and sending spikes of discomfort through him. It took him a while but he managed, clipping on his suspenders, donning his hat, and just... breathing. The pain was dull and distracting but it wasn't as horrific as when he woke up.

With gritted teeth, Husk used his nightstand to push himself up slowly, straightening out his legs and putting most of his weight on them. It hurt like a bitch obviously, but he could handle it. He had to handle it. Carefully, he lifted his hand from the nightstand and straightened himself, breathing deeply. It wasn't the most balanced, and it kind of felt like he could collapse at any second, but he was standing and that was enough.

Shakily, he took a step forward. Pain that was lingering in his legs took a sharp path up through his bones, but he breathed and took another step. And another.

It wasn't long before he was at the staircase, taking some sweet relief in the existence of the banister. Going down stairs was the slightest improvement from his normal walking, so he made his way down one step at a time and ended up at the lobby.

Everyone was relaxing on the sofas, so Husk shakily headed over and collapsed onto the closest one. Angel happened to be next to him, his back lying on the seats and his legs hanging over the armrest. He looked up at the sudden dip on the couch and saw Husk, his breathing laboured and eyebrows furrowed.

"You alright there, whiskers?" Angel questioned, looking at him upside-down, "Look like ya've just run a marathon."

"I'm fine." Husk growled out, uncharacteristically non-insulting for his usual tastes. The insults were too much effort to conjure when his focus was firmly on keeping his composure as straight and narrow as ever. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, he had a soft spot for Angel: their late-night drinks and soft outings together made Husk grow quite fond of the guy. Whenever he could get away with not insulting him, he would.

Still tense, Husk glanced over at Angel to see that stupid concerned look on his face. Sometimes he'd catch Angel looking at him like that from the corner of his eye, only in private moments when no-one was around for him to keep up his self-obsessive act for. Well, it wasn't all an act -- Angel did usually put himself before others, donning this self-reliability and care which Husk greatly admired about him. But he'd never usually be caught dead seeming concerned for someone else.

Unless it was Husker, apparently.

His heart fluttered at the thought. Angel seemingly cared for him. Not just for his own gain or to earn his trust in order to backstab him, but a real, genuine care. It felt soft and malleable and stuck in Husk's mind like putty, the warm flow trickling through his cheeks and ears down to his heart and stomach. It felt so real, so pure, better than anything and anyone else in this shithole of a fate. It made him feel alive again, something he had given up on years ago.

Fondly, he remembered the first time that feeling showed itself. Right after their little musical escapade, Husk and Angel found themselves at some random shitty bar down some back alley of Hell. They clinked their glasses together -- Husk's whiskey, Angel's some blue glittery cocktail that could be considered an insult to the art of alcohol -- and laughed uncontrollably at something he's since forgotten. At that table, Husk opened his eyes to see Angel laughing so hard that he was snorting, one hand fruitlessly trying to cover his mouth. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. Prettier than his best porn performances or his scandalous outfits. That was when the warm fuzzy feeling rose in Husk, curling into a ball and settling comfortably right in his stomach, fizzing and flaring with every laugh or joke, which it remained doing ever since.

This, he thought, must be what love felt like.

It took Husk far too long to snap back to the present, suddenly hyperaware that Charlie was in the middle of explaining something which he had completely missed. He tried to focus in on her words but they sounded like static to his exhausted and pained mind. Nothing was processing and it was all just too much.

Husk had no fucking idea what was happening. Everyone stood up, all now chatting animatedly which he stayed silent right where he was. Realising that this must look odd, he crossed his arms and held his best "I want to be anywhere but here" face.

Charlie looked over at him and smiled, saying- something?- and holding a hand out to him. He stared at it with annoyance, trying to mentally signal that this was her cue to fuck right off, but she stayed persistent. Sighing playfully, Charlie took his arm and pulled him up to his feet, sending a searing white pain through his entire lower body and leaving him no choice but to yelp out in agony. To her credit, Charlie instantly let go of him and backed away, not fully sure what she'd done.

The pain from standing so quickly and clumsily was debilitating. Husk tried his damn hardest to find himself again, stumbling backwards to get back to the couch, but each step was another jolt of coal-hot agony through his legs. His vision had glazed too much to see anything except that everyone was looking at him, directly at him, as he tripped over nothing. Each movement caused him pain, so he stumbled and moved again to get away from it, leaving him in this stupid fucking loop of pain.

Eventually, finally, his legs collapsed. Husk hit the floor with a thud.

...

And he woke up with the worst fucking headache.

Groggily, Husk blinked open his eyes to find that he was in an unfamiliar bed, buried in pink duvets and fluffy white pillows, ceiling dimly lit by a string of fairy lights hung around it. His legs felt... strangely soothed. He looked down at himself, lifting up the covers to see two microwaveable heat packs under both of his legs. It honestly felt fucking incredible.

Husk looked up to see Angel sitting on his vanity chair on the other side of the room, looking at him with pure worry now painting his face rather than the small concerned glances he was used to.

"Good mornin', kitty." Angel tried to force his usual flirtatious front, but it wavered just a bit too much to be believable. He swallowed spit, "How... How you feelin'?"

"Shit." Husk replied bluntly before deciding to be nicer for once, "My head hurts like a motherfucker. But the... uh... the heat things are good."

"Yeah?" Angel seemed to regain a bit of pride, "I thought so. I use 'em sometimes, they're good for really hittin' the spot when you're aching."

"I can see." Husk hummed, laying back again and closing his eyes to put a clawed hand over his face, "You got any, uh, pain med shit?"

"The table." Angel nodded to the nightstand beside Husk, bringing attention to the glass of water (not booze, Husk lamented) and collection of small pills beside it. Husk pushed himself up just barely enough to be upright, slowly taking the pills one-by-one. During all of this, he was endlessly grateful that the fairy lights were on rather than any of the many big lights around the room which would cause him a migraine worse than literal death. Upon taking the meds, he finished off the glass of water and set it back down.

Silence stretched between him and Angel. It was much appreciated on Husk's end, a bit of quiet to ease his head along with the heat which was doing wonders for his legs. He could see that Angel was bouncing one of his legs up and down nervously, despite his calm facade over the rest of his body. It took another minute or so of silence for one of them to speak up.

"So... What happened out there?" Angel questioned, voice loud enough to appear normal but soft enough to be laced with worry. Husk was struck with the instinct to lie. He'd fucked up -- really fucked up -- when he should've known better than to push himself like that. Should've just pushed Charlie away and left it. But he was far too stubborn or stupid to just let himself rest. His own need to be seen as tough had made him weaker than ever.

Husk could've lied. Slipped on his poker face, chatted some shit, and been in the clear: just like old times. It came as a second nature to him by this point, having learnt how to twist his tongue in such a way to make people find him inconspicuous and honest. But Angel just seemed so... worried. Genuine. Some shit that made Husk's stomach turn at the thought of lying to him - an unfamiliar feeling.

So, for one of the first times in this damn afterlife, he dropped the lies.

"Look, I..." Husk groaned, comprehending what exactly he was doing and running a hand down his face, "I got this thing with my legs. It ain't- ugh... Okay. Some days, they hurt real bad, an' I can't really walk around or be comfortable, you see. But I..." He sucked in air through his teeth, "I tried to push it. Get myself out there an' not be controlled by this random damn pain. Clearly, it don't work." He laughed dryly, no humour behind it.

Silence hung in the room like a body. Husk refused to look at Angel during this, whether due to shame or fear or regret, fuck, he didn't know. Surprisingly, for such a gut-spilling moment, Husk felt quite blank. As if his mind hadn't caught up with his mouth yet, not understanding everything he just vomited up from the deepest part of him and spewed onto the floor for Angel to dissect. It took a good long while, but Husk eventually felt the bed depress next to him. Even without looking, he knew that Angel had just sat next to him in the bed and some part of him was comforted by that.

"Look, Husky-" Angel spoke in a voice that was just sweet enough to stop Husk from growling at the nickname, "-I know a thing or two about leg pain, right? Kinda comes with the gig. An' I know better than anyone that if you're walkin' on bad legs, you're gonna be in even worse pain 'til you get a rest. And- And you an' I both know damn well that Charlie would understand if you explained it to her."

"It ain't Charlie I'm worried about." Husk snapped and the realisation of an unspoken name dawned on Angel's face. It was an implication that could only ever be understood by the two of them.

"I say..." Angel set a gentle hand on top of Husk's, finally causing him to look up and meet soft eyes, "Look, there ain't no use in lyin' to the cunt that owns your soul. He's always gonna find out. But for this?" He chuckled, "Well, he ain't gotta know."

A bomb had been sewn into Husk's chest eight years ago and now it was exploding. Everything he had ever kept to himself, hidden behind locks and chains, was bubbling up his throat and threatening to spill. He just wanted to lean into Angel and tell him everything: all of the feelings he'd stomped on, the thoughts he'd trampled. Everything in him was building, so much that Husk figured he might just drop dead again of a heart attack any second now.

There was so much Angel needed to hear but the words fizzled out and died on Husk's tongue. He just sat there, staring like a fucking idiot, now unaware of the pain plaguing his body.

"Cat got your tongue, kitty?" Angel teased, leaning ever closer to Husk in just a way to make his heart pounce. The comment was fully uncalled for, probably would've made him snap at any other occasion, but this was different in every fundamental way possible. Was it an invitation? A request for Husk to let it spill, loosen his tongue and spout the words?

Clearly, he took too long to think on this because Angel lifted a pair of hands to cup Husk's cheeks, still holding one of his other hands on the cat's paw. Their eyes met -- fuck, were they this close a few seconds ago? -- and their noses hovered on the edge of brushing against each other. Angel let out a small giggle and Husk feels the heat unavoidably rush to his face (and, thankfully, only his face).

"I really hope I've taken this the right way, honey." Angel laughed and bought Husk closer, tilting his head to secure them in a kiss.

It took Husk a moment to remember where in Hell he was before he slowly closed his eyes and lifted his free hand to bury in Angel's hair. He pushed himself closer and fuck, it felt desperate and it jostled his legs slightly but it was right there for him to take. Angel met his energy right back, sliding closer professionally in order to deepen the kiss. It felt so intimate now, with barely any space left between them, bodies pressed together but still not close enough to satisfy.

Husk was flying. It was the highest peak of the rollercoaster, the shiny point of a mountain, the part where he swept Angel off of his feet and flew them away to a world with no leashes or overlords or exterminations. In the moment, desperate for impossible closeness, Husk wrapped his wings around Angel like a blanket and cocooned them away, sheltered from the world outside. In his mind and heart, it was only them. It always had been only them.

Angel drew back. Husk became aware of how boiling his skin was, every atom in him alight and sparking with electricity.

"I'm takin' that as a yes..?" Angel grinned, not even waiting for an answer before he snuggled against Husk tightly, "Ya know, these wings are pretty nice... We could do a lot wrapped up like this...~" He purred out, tilting his head down and lowering his eyelids in the most effective sexual way possible. Husk's blood started to pump elsewhere. Quickly, he mumbled an embarrassed 'can it' under his breath and drew him back in, initiating another sweet kiss.

It was much more comfortable now, both of them allowing themselves to melt together and relax into each other like putty against a flame. Angel opened his mouth slightly and Husk took this as his sign to slide his rough tongue right inside.

The moment things started getting good, the heat pack that was once on Husk's leg slipped and fell to the floor with a hard thwack. They both yanked away in the shock, Husk folding his wings back and wincing from the pain of the sudden movement, until they realised what it was. Angel looked over and made eye contact with Husk, at which point they both started laughing at the stupidity of it all.

"Alright, alright..." Angel calmed them, shuffling back to his intimate position with Husk and humming, "You've had enough adventure for one day, huh? Bet your legs are still killin' you... Even that third one~" He let out a growl which Husk couldn't tell the seriousness of. Husk just nudged him away playfully, "Am kidding, am kidding... Still, you'd better rest up, pussycat. Gotta deal with an over-apologetic Charlie in the mornin'."

Husk groaned light-heartedly as Angel adjusted around him, making an effort to not touch his legs while he cuddled up. When he finally fell comfy, they both closed their eyes to rest.

"That reminds me." Husk hummed, eyes still closed and muscles slack, "If Charlie's the one that was involved, why am I in your bedroom?" Husk could feel the rumble of a chuckle in Angel's chest.

"I could carry you up the stairs easiest. Besides... Everyone knew I'd want to take this chance to be alone with ya."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Husk huffed. Angel giggled again.

"You're the only one in this damn hotel who didn't know I had the hots for ya!"

It took Husk a moment to process this in his mind.

Then he groaned, raising a hand to hold it over his face in defeat.

"Maybe I am an idiot..." He grumbled. Angel laughed. They both fell silent, breaths deepening and muscles relaxing.

"Sweet dreams, baby." Angel yawned before snuggling once again into Husk's chest.

He did have sweet dreams.

Notes:

(slamming Husk and Angel together) kiss! kiss! kiss!