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Husk had to give the woman partial credit- Mimzy’s appearance had done a little more than put more holes in the wall and cause a scene. She’d reminded him of something, something that it took him days after Charlie’s ill-fated trip to Heaven to consider. He avoided Alastor after their talk, not wanting to risk tripping over his hooves and getting another reminder of what it cost to be mouthy. The trip to Consent had actually done a lot to get his fur unruffled, only for it to get his dander up when Val showed his nonexistent ass.
That was when he knew he needed to get the Radio Demon in a good mood.
Alastor kept a radio behind the bar for communication purposes, like a fucking intercom meant only for him to respond to, but it functioned fine as intended. Husk had buried it in a fit of pique behind several bottom shelf whiskey bottles and ignored it for the most part. Now he dug it out, dusted it off with the feathered fan of his tail and placed it in a spot of honor at the corner of the bar and tuned it just so. Duke Ellington crooned out of the box in all his crackling, tinny glory, just as he was meant to be heard.
Alastor had just been doing his usual circuit of the hotel when he caught the tunes and about-faced to saunter up to the bar. “Jazz! My, my, my, what is the occasion, my fine feathered friend?”
Husk idly wiped down a spot on the bar where the wood had gone pale from the amount of times he’d struck this same pose out of boredom. “‘S too quiet in here. Ever since the girls got back from Heaven, everyone’s been slinkin’ around like there’s a blade over their necks.”
Alastor hummed. “Yes, it is miserable, isn’t it?”
It was hard to tell whether or not he was delighted by the prospect. He’d sent Mimzy away so quickly but the second Lucifer hadn’t been around, he was back to mocking the hotel. Experience and the reminder of cold sickly green chains around his neck told Husk not to say anything to draw attention to that.
He measured out three fingers of rye and slid it over to Alastor without him even asking. His big ears immediately fell back against his skull as he narrowed his eyes at Husk, his grin stretching beyond the borders of his face. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” The static in his voice popped and crackled, which said only good things. The less static and affectation you heard, the more dangerous Alastor was.
“Three fingers of rye and some Duke’s all it takes, boss?” Husk waggled his eyebrows. “Didn’t take you for a lightweight.”
“Watch your mouth, you saucy boy.” Alastor plucked the glass from the counter and sipped at the whiskey with relish. Husk poured himself one and winced at the taste. Fuck. What was it about being that close to Prohibition that made every bit of liquor taste like sawdust and depression?
Well. Appropriate for the mood in the hotel right now, anyway. They sipped in silence for a moment while the radio continued to play. Husk’s tail swished in time with the music while Alastor’s long claws beat a rhythm against the counter, adding tiny little nicks to the pristine wood he’d have to try to buff out later.
He had his moment. What’re you gonna do about it, Husker? You gonna lay the cards on the table or are you gonna fold like a chump before you even play? He exhaled. “Tell me somethin’, man. Former Overlord to current Overlord. Could you do it? Make Valentino tear up Angel’s contract?”
Alastor cocked his head at an unnatural angle. “I don’t think it’s a matter of CAN, Husker, so much as it’s a matter of WOULD. Why would I debase myself by being in the same room as that salacious rapist to even ask?”
Husk sipped his whiskey and adjusted the dials on the radio when the static began to overpower the singing. “‘Cause it’d give Angel more time to devote to bein’ the poster boy for why this shithole might actually work, which- and this ain’t me askin’- you seem to genuinely care about.”
He waited for an admonition, but Alastor simply tilted his head the other way, putting a great deal of effort into pretending to think. “HmmmMMMMM. Not a good enough reason, I’m afraid.”
Cowardice took the wheel and Husk finished off his whiskey and set to taking Alastor’s empty glass. “Right. Forget I asked.”
One hand went to the glass he almost took while the other used the microphone to roughly push Husk’s chin up so that he was looking directly into Alastor’s eyes. “No, no, no. Let’s back that dial up just a smidge, shall we? What’s made you so interested in Angel’s contract?”
Husk knew better than to move, so he stood there, locked in place and scowling. “What? You think I’m lookin’ to find a way around mine? ‘Cause if I was, why would you be the first person I asked?”
The microphone stand pulled back and Husk was allowed to take the glass away and put some distance between himself and Alastor. The freedom was an illusion, but he’d take it. “I wasn’t aware I was the first! That makes it even more interesting. You could have gone to anyone with that idle query and yet you came to the one person who might be able to do something about it. Why is that? And why is it you asking and not our dear little princess?”
Oh. Oh fuck. Like many of his worst experiences at the tables, he’d bet too high and then failed to keep his fucking poker face intact. That was actually how he’d fallen to Alastor’s deals in the first place. The bastard could see right through him as if he was a pane of glass.
His fur poofed up and his wings mantled.“Stop tryin’ to make it a thing, all right? Val’s just been puttin’ his cock to the grindstone-“
“Fascinating word choice.” Alastor rested a chin on his hand and if Husk were the type to bet on not just losing dogs but dogs with janky legs and pancreatitis, he’d bet that little shift of cloth at the hemline of his suit jacket was a wagging tail.
He slammed the glass he was cleaning down so hard a hairline fracture went up the side of it. “He’s hurtin’ him, Alastor! That’s it! I’m the one who’s been patchin’ ‘em up when he comes home at the ass end of the night. It takes a toll after awhile. I’m sick of it.”
The grin the Radio Demon shot him was nothing short of predatory. “And now we get to the point. Was that so hard?”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s like you said- you won’t do it.” He laid the broken glass aside and picked up another one, refusing to look over at the simpering, amused demon at the other side of the bar.
“Now I didn’t say that. I said I would need a very good reason to engage. I like having the Vees around and if you topple one of them, it will only invite retaliation from the other two. Do we really have time for that on top of everything else?”
“Fuck, Al, I wouldn’t be askin’ you to kill him. I’d be askin’ you to-” He paused. What would he be asking him to do? He came to this with every kind of bait and then forgot to bring the gun.
“-transfer ownership of his soul to me?” Alastor’s ears flicked excitedly at an option Husk had never considered even though it should have been the first concern. There was a look in his eyes that made Husk’s blood run cold.
“What? No! Fuck no!”
“Why not? You two could have matching leashes.”
Husk brushed past that thought with little more than a choking sound and a reddening of his cheeks that he quickly covered up by fiddling with the radio knobs again. “What would you want with the soul of a porn star anyway?”
“Why does anyone need souls? I just like having them.” A lie and a big one, but Satan spare you if really thought you’d get a better answer out of Alastor. He smacked his microphone against the radio and it immediately set itself to rights, forcing Husk to have no more excuse but to turn and face his grinning master.
“Val would never give you Angel anyway. It’s a moot point, so forget it. Forget. It.” He kept saying that. As if saying forget it thrice would actually do anything. All he was doing was making absolute certain Alastor remembered it.
“I could propose a trade, I suppose.” Alastor crossed his legs. “I wonder if Valentino needs a bartender.”
Husk barked a laugh at that. “Funny.”
“Would you do that? Take his place? Be the ear to bend for all of Valentino’s extremely specific and probably burning woes?” Alastor reached out and pinched Husk’s ear. He swatted at him instinctively and turned away again. “All so your little spider can be free of that nasty web?”
The answer didn’t come to Husk’s lips because he bit down on it too hard. Yes. Yes, he’d go and he’d mix cocktails laced with every kind of aphrodisiac and roofie known to Hellkind and he’d grit his teeth and he’d know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Angel couldn’t be hurt by that fucker anymore, even as he was damning different souls to the same thing. What did it matter if it wasn't one he liked? Sell-out.
And if he said any of that out loud, Alastor would either actually consider doing it (not likely- his soul was more useful to him than Angel’s) or he would use the fact that he cared for Angel that much against him.
The problem was that in not saying anything, he said everything. Alastor’s yellowed grin was fixed right on him, burning his pinion feathers to ashes until he had to turn around and face him just to try to save a little face.
The cards weren’t in his favor. “Husker, are you infatuated with that arachnid strumpet?”
“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he said, going for sarcasm and missing because of the weird panic that was edging into his laugh. “I’m thinkin’ a June wedding.”
“It’ll lead right into a July funeral, I suspect,” Alastor laughed, slapping his hand on the bar. “No wonder you’re so interested in releasing him from his contract. If Valentino heard there was someone who loved his prized star, why he would be absolutely livid.”
The cackle was unnecessary and Husk said as much, glowering. When that failed to shut him up, he waited until there was a lull and hissed, “Ya done?”
There was a pause, a ‘no,’ and then another chorus of maniacal laughter that sent Pentious, who had come into the parlor for something, slithering away with nothing more than an eep and an apology.
“I don’t love Angel, all right?” Husk snapped the second Alastor’s laughter petered off and he gave a very polite, very casual I’m done now to prove it wasn’t going to start up again. “I’m worried. Shit’s gettin’ real right now.”
“Indeed. Why I wouldn’t be surprised if Valentino, in a fit of absolute pique at the state of things, doesn’t just execute his entire staff so the exterminators don’t get there first.”
Husk’s fur stood on end. “He wouldn’t.”
“Do you know that for certain?” Alastor leaned across the bar, his neck developing an eerie kink in it as he extended it just slightly.
No. He didn’t. Exterminations made everyone panicky and this was an unprecedented event. Corner a Vee and who knew what they might do to make sure no one took their toys when they were erased from Hell.
Alastor reached over and scritched Husk’s ears, forcing him to back all the way against the wall, nearly skewering himself on the deer bones that littered the space to fit Alastor’s specific aesthetic. “You know, I think I could be persuaded to make that a viable trade if you’re interested. Mostly because I love the irony. And, of course, I’d take good care of our little star, especially since you are absolutely correct. He is the poster boy for Charlie’s little experiment. You’d be doing him so many favors.”
“And what about the bar?” Husk drawled, unsure if he wanted to Alastor to pivot from the idea or keep indulging it. This was what the whiskey and jazz was for, right? You wanted him to say yes.
Yeah, okay. Maybe he hadn’t considered Alastor would trade his and Angel’s leashes, but it was a more likely scheme than just hoping maybe Al would add Valentino’s screams to his collection or simply find some loophole to exploit. Not his best gamble, especially not when the house always wins. You took what you could get.
And what he needed was some kind of assurance that Angel would survive this. He was doing too good to have it all crushed out of him. Feelings didn’t have anything to do with it. Especially not his feelings.
“Bartenders are infinitely easier to find than talent,” Alastor responded, sliding off the stool and leaving Husk to his empty glasses and his bartop and his jazz and his thoughts. “Think about it~” He sing-songed.
And Husk did think about it- well into the night, long after he left the bar and headed to his room, pausing just by Angel’s to see if he could hear his snoring. He put his ear to the door when he failed to hear even that and caught whimpering, instead. Even in his sleep, Angel cried out yes Valentino in a terrified child’s voice and rolled around in anguish, haunted by the bastard even in sleep.
Husk resisted the urge to put a fist through the wall, stalked to his room, and went straight to his hoarded bottles. “Look at you, Husk,” he growled at himself. “It’d be easy for you to take the first deal that walks through the door, just like always. You can run from your feelings, run from him. Hell, if you get put on the Vee’s payroll, they’ll skin you for associating with this place the second you try. Is that how you wanna end your time in Hell? As a rug? All 'cause you couldn't stay away.” He glared at himself in a grimy vanity mirror. He refused to let Niffty in here to clean and the room suffered for it.
“So what?” He pressed the bottle to his lips. “What’re you gonna do for him here? Grumpy drunk fuck that you are. You gonna be some kind of knight in shining armor again? He doesn’t need that.”
And he wasn’t a knight anyway. He was a guy with a handful of loaded dice and some cards who’d been around the block a time or two. That type was a dime a dozen in Hell.
He drained the bottle and tossed it among the other dead soldiers surrounding his nest of a bed, still glowering at his own reflection. “So here’s the question, gambler. Do you fold on this place and take the easy way out or do you keep playing and see what happens?”
-
It was three in the morning when Husk finally padded back down to Angel’s room and knocked. Fat Nuggets squealed in protest at the noise and Angel, lower arms wrapped around the demon pig, opened the door wearing a robe that dripped off his shoulders. Seeing who it was, he quickly pulled it up and over to cover him better.
“Somethin’ better be on fire, Husk,” he groaned. “I’m too tired for this shit.”
“Yeah, I know. Move.” He shoved him into the room and slammed the door shut with his tail. Angel blinked and the bitten lip and barely contained smirk showed he was trying so goddamn hard not to make a filthy joke. Husk had to fight not to get flustered over that- the absence of innuendo was somehow harder to brush off than a rapidfire stream of it.
“Uh. Okay?” Angel finally said. “What’s goin’ on?”
Husk threw himself down on Angel’s bed facefirst and drew himself up into a ball. “Get over here.”
“Okay, but if we’re gonna do over the clothes stuff, I-”
Husk growled and Angel rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Fine. You wanna cuddle? I can cuddle. I normally charge extra for it though.”
“Angel, for the love of Lucifer, just get in the goddamn bed.”
There was a pause. Husk opened one eye and saw Angel looking at him with a look of deepest hurt. Fuck. How many times had Valentino said those exact words to him? He sighed and sat up. “If you tell anyone this, I’ll tell everyone it was the drugs that made you think it, but I purr when I sleep. Now I ain’t an expert on cats, but I hear that bein’ around a purrin’ cat can relax people. You need to relax and I know you haven’t had anything since the club.”
Angel flinched. His detox was subtle and being done behind closed doors, overwhelmed by work and the anticipation of the extermination in a month. Still, it was evident in how little he seemed to be sleeping despite his exhaustion. I can trade my life away like a coward or I can do something to help him here. This is what I’m choosin’.
He walked slowly to the bed and crawled back in without shedding the robe. The bed wasn’t big enough for two people, like Angel was determined to not have to share with someone groping at him for once in his life, and yet he still reached for a handful of Husk’s fur and drew his knees up so they were almost flush with Husk’s chest, seeking any touch he could get away with. Husk allowed it.
“Why you doin’ this?” Angel asked, working the fur between his fingers. “Or is this some new bartender service you’re tryin’ out?”
“Hah,” Husk tucked a wing over his face. “Tired of listenin’ t’ you talk in your sleep through these paper thin walls.”
“Bullshit.” Angel tugged the wing down with one of his other hands so he could see him. “What gives?”
He wasn’t going to get out of this without an explanation. He could leave, but that would look even worse. He sighed, drearily. “I’m tryin’ to see what it’s like t’ not take the easy way out for once.”
“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”
He hadn't meant to come out with it, but if he didn't say it, he knew Alastor would and that would be worse. With a frustrated sound like the wheeze of a teakettle, the truth escaped: “It means that I almost convinced Alastor to trade my soul to Valentino for yours today.”
Angel sat up abruptly, the robe falling completely off his shoulders, exposing not only his chest fluff but the heart-shaped stripes on his long torso. The fist in his fur knotted painfully. “The fuck, Husk? What would you do that for?”
“It was an idea, all right? But sacrifice is easy. Puttin’ in the work to help somebody out and not just bury yourself to lift ‘em up? That’s hard. I don’t typically do shit the hard way. I’m tryin’ it out.”
Angel’s fist didn’t leave his fur. “Don’t ever fuckin’ think about makin’ that deal again, ya hear me?”
“Yeah, I hear you. You’re gonna snatch me bald if you don’t let go.” He tried to pry Angel’s fingers out of his fur but they held tight like a burr.
“Say you promise.”
“No. Go to sleep.”
Angel bared his teeth. “So you’re gonna tell me you’re not gonna make that deal and then refuse to promise? Sounds like you ain’t that committed, fur face.”
“I’m committed. I just don’t see why makin’ it binding is that important.”
“‘Cause I got enough to worry about without worryin’ about you and Val. I don’t want him to notice anything I have, much less anyone else who might stand up for me. And what makes you think I’d wanna be on that strawberry prick’s leash any better?”
Okay. Fair point. Husk snarled and buried his face in the mattress. “Fuck this. I’m no good at this shit. I’ll stick to tendin’ the bar.” He started to get up, but Angel still held fast.
The grim look of seething rage had faded, transformed into something playful, yet hopeful. Genuine. “You said you were gonna purr me to sleep, kitty cat. You gonna leave a doll hangin’?”
“You gonna stop badgerin’ me about everything?”
"You gonna stop makin' shit deals?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe." Angel primly adjusted his robe and curled back up without another word. He even smoothed down the fur he’d ruffled and pulled one of Husk’s wings over him like a blanket. Just before Husk relaxed enough to get a really good purr going, Angel stuck his head up underneath his chin and buried his face in the fur of his neck, startling him so much that he froze.
“You smell like cheap booze and vomit, man,” Angel chuckled, sleepily, but refused to remove his face.
Slowly, Husk unclenched. “Yeah, well you smell like cherry lube.”
Angel snorted into his chest. “It's dragonfruit, thanks.”
"Dragonfruit lube." Husk laughed in spite of himself. "What'll they think of next?"
"Lube made from the come of actual dragons?"
Husk was still laughing, shoulders shaking. He pawed the tuft of hair on Angel's head until it covered his eyes. "Shut up and go to sleep."
They both relaxed at that, teasing laughter fading into snickers. It took Husk a bit longer, unable to purr on command, but once he settled and stretched and got really comfortable with the idea of being in a bed with someone for the first time in a very long time, he started to feel the steady vibrations in his chest, Angel made a noise of surprise and then started back up snickering again.
“Oh you weren’t kiddin’,” he said, but before Husk could retort, he’d drifted off to sleep, dreamless and deep and blissfully free of any crying out in anticipation of the lash.
Husk lingered at the cusp of waking and sleeping, swearing that Alastor was close by, keeping watch like he might find yet find something here to exploit, but for now Husk was doing it on his own.
And not failing at it.