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The unfortunate thing about spending time with people was that they could learn to read you just as well as you read them. Case in point: Angel sat down at the bar, took one look at his face, and asked, "Tough day?”
A sigh barrelled out of Husk. “In this hotel, every day is a tough day for me,” he said. “Not like we get a lot of quiet around here.”
“I wouldn’t need to ask if that was what was bothering you.”
Husk pursed his lips. “You’re getting to know me too damn well, kid.”
“Yeah, I am,” said Angel. “I think that wise old bartender shtick is rubbing off on me, so you only have yourself to blame,” he added, which made it really, really hard not to smile.
Husk shook his head and set a fresh glass on the counter, filling it with a handful of ice and three fingers of whiskey. A nice, hard drink to alleviate some of Angel’s perceptiveness. “Don’t worry yourself. Alastor’s just being a pain in the ass-”
Angel arched an eyebrow.
“Not that kind of pain, jackass,” said Husk dryly. “You know Alastor don’t go for that shit. He’s more of a 'eviscerate you while laughing maniacally’ sort of freak.”
Angel’s gaze flicked over Husk from the crown of his head to his toes. “And he...?”
“Didn’t do that to me. I just, you know. Ran my mouth a little and got...” He trailed off and turned away from Angel, busying himself with a cloth and a stain on the bar. “Nothing worth whining about. I ain’t got any broken bones or wounds. Just a sore neck. Coulda ended a lot worse.”
“Well, I’m glad it didn’t,” said Angel, though Husk’s reassurances didn’t seem to have mitigated his concern by much. “I’d hate to have to serve my own drinks.”
Husk snorted. “Bet you would, princess.”
"Oooh, I hope that one sticks,” said Angel with a lascivious grin, and Husk tossed his cloth at Angel, hitting him square in the nose. Angel shook it away with his grin still firmly in place.
“You would like that," said Husk. Without his cloth, he was left to instead busy himself with putting away glasses and bottles.
“Feel free to indulge me any time.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“We’ll see.” Angel laughed softly and took a swig of his whiskey. “Hey, I’ve got an idea.”
Husk’s ears perked up. He raised himself just enough to look at Angel over the bar. “Yeah?” He was fully expecting Angel to suggest a night on the town; a bender so Husk could forget his worries for a time, but instead he got:
“Tell him you wanna fuck him.”
All at once, his thoughts ground to a halt. Alastor and 'fucking’ just weren’t words that usually occupied the same space. At least, not in this context. “What?” he said, despite the fact he’d heard Angel with perfect clarity.
“Alastor hates that shit. When he starts getting rough with you, tell him you wanna fuck him. Maybe pepper in a ‘daddy’ to really sell it. Like-” Angel cupped his chest and put on his actor's voice. “Oooh, daddy, hit me harder.”
Husk almost choked on his own saliva. Angel had never really registered Alastor as a threat the same way most denizens of hell did, so he couldn’t understand what a terrible idea that was, but he still looked at Angel like he'd just told Husk to catapult himself into the sun.
Angel raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, it was just a suggestion.”
“Worst suggestion I’ve ever received.” Though he couldn’t deny that it could work; Alastor had shown a strong aversion to such things. It might make him less hands-on about his ‘discipline’, at least, but that didn’t necessarily mean Husk would find whatever alternative he came up with any more pleasant. Having his mind peeled open wasn’t much more enjoyable than Alastor throwing him around on his leash.
“Don’t use it, then,” said Angel with a shrug. “Just...” He hesitated, and his words came uncertainly when he did speak. “Do what you need to to keep safe, alright? Whatever that is.”
Husk recognized the vulnerability in the admission, and he rose up from behind the counter to properly express his gratitude, closing a hand over Angel’s shoulder. He was bad at this- they both were, but the effort made wasn’t lost on either of them.
“Hey, I am safe. Alastor’s, you know… a psychopath, but he can be pragmatic. He’s not gonna kill or maim me when he brought me here for a purpose.”
The corners of Angel’s mouth rose. “You know, if he gets too much, I’m sure the small daddy could sort him out.”
It took Husk a moment to figure out who the 'small daddy' was referring to. “Have you called Lucifer that to his face?” asked Husk, arching an eyebrow.
“Might’ve,” said Angel, which was definitely a ‘yes’.
Husk muffled a laugh behind a palm. This fucking guy. “He and Charlie have more important things to worry about than this old cat," he said, releasing Angel’s shoulder to resume cleaning glasses. “I can handle myself.”
Angel hesitated like he was going to protest, but then he sighed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, heard that a few dozen times by now. But you know who to call if you need Al's spine pulled out through his ass."
"Yeah, I got it," said Husk. "How about you help me taste-test some new cocktails?"
Angel eagerly leaned across the bar. "With them fancy mini umbrellas?"
"Sure, why not," said Husk with a snaggle-toothed smile, descending beneath the bar to search for whatever garnishes they had on hand.
It took months for him to make a slip serious enough to incite Alastor’s anger. It seemed almost a hairsbreadth these days, his carefully constructed mask of an unflappable gentleman growing looser by the hour. But not in front of the other guests, and certainly not in front of Charlie; just Husk, who he could let loose on without any sort of repercussions. He didn’t need to hide the sadism simmering beneath the surface with someone he owned.
“What was that?” he asked, his voice just like it had been in the hallway all those months ago, cold and angry. Husk clammed up. “What did you just say to me?”
“I, uh-”
He could barely remember what he’d said through the panic engulfing him. Some dry remark about Alastor and his squabbling with Lucifer, an allusion to the fact Alastor was only angry because Lucifer’s abilities outstripped his own by miles.
The familiar weight of his collar snapped around his neck, and he was being hauled across the floor before he could find the will to finish speaking.
“How many times must we have this conversation, Husker.” Alastor approached slowly, casually, like he wasn’t just about to hand Husk his ass. “Your lips have become too loose. Must I sew them up to teach you the value of restraint?”
Rich coming from someone who couldn’t stop himself from needling Lucifer at every available opportunity, but Husk wisely kept that thought to himself.
“No, I- I got it. It won’t happen again.”
“You’ve told me that before, yet here we are.” Alastor leaned down, seizing Husk’s face in his taloned fingers. “Perhaps you should announce a sabbatical so I can reacquaint you with the terms of our deal. I’m sure the hotel would survive without you for a few days.”
Husk trembled, heart racing as Alastor loomed above him. “Boss, look, I- I fucked up, and I’ll make it right. I’ll, uh-” He shakily propped himself up on his elbows. “I’ll figure something out,” he finished lamely.
“There’s nothing you could give me that I couldn’t just take,” said Alastor. “And the fact you don’t remember that is the problem.”
He coiled Husk’s chain around a hand and gave it a great yank, dragging Husk across the floor and forcing his neck to stretch at an unnatural angle. Husk whimpered, and hated how easily Alastor dragged such pitiful noises out of him.
“Boss, I-” He exhaled heavily, trembling all over. “I want - I – could you pull me harder?” The words just... tumbled out of him, startling both of them. Alastor stared at him in abject shock, his grip on the chain loosening.
“I beg your pardon?”
Wait, was this working? Was Angel’s advice fucking working? He could hardly believe it.
“Yeah, uh, I want you to choke me, er- daddy.”
Alastor reeled back like he’d been slapped. “Husker-”
“It really gets me going when you pull my chain. So, go on- pull it.” He winked. “Give it a good, hard pull, daddy.”
Alastor stared at him in silence for a long time. Then, finally, he spoke: “I see Angel Dust has been teaching you filth.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Husk, relief coming over him in a wave as the chain dissipated. “He’s taught me all sorts of raunchy shit. You wouldn’t believe the things I get off to now.”
“Hmm.” Alastor squinted at him and slowly straightened, his expression smoothing back into a tense sort of amusement. “Is this what you think will repel me, Husker? I knew you were a fool, but to be this short-sighted? I’m disappointed in you.”
Husk’s heart sunk. “I-I just...”
“You just thought you could make me uncomfortable to deter me. What you should have realized is that I’m perfectly capable of overcoming discomfort to make a point.”
A mass of tendrils emerged from the floor and coiled around Husk, throwing him bodily into the closest available room. The door slammed shut once Alastor had entered after him. He found himself pinned down, his arms fastened to the floor by a coil of Alastor’s shadows and knees trapped against his chest. His wings fluttered uselessly behind him. This position allowed for little movement.
“Alastor,” Husk began, but that was all he managed to get out before a tendril was forcing its way past his teeth and gliding cold and heavy over his tongue. Panic seized Husk’s entire body when he registered Alastor’s intent, and he squirmed and flailed uselessly against his restraints. It was pointless, and he knew it was pointless, but he couldn’t help himself; couldn’t stop his writhing and wiggling no matter how ineffective it was.
“Now, I will confess that I’m not overly familiar with the specifics of this act, but I’m sure I can work it out.”
Alastor kept his eyes on Husk’s face while the tendrils carefully unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them out of the way, leaving him exposed. Husk’s face burned with shame. Alastor was doing this to humiliate, to debase, and it was working as intended.
The tendril in his mouth drove in far enough to make him gag, and Alastor looked faintly amused by his struggling to draw in a full breath. Saliva striped down his chin and left his fur sodden.
“Oh dear, you don’t seem to be enjoying this very much. Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to choke you?”
Husk grimaced at the reminder that he’d asked for this.
“Just swallow, Husker. You’ll be fine. This lesson won’t break you.”
Husk squeezed his eyes shut against the urge to cry. He wouldn’t give Alastor the satisfaction.
“Let's get those legs open.”
Husk winced as his legs were wrenched apart, unveiling the most private part of him to Alastor’s gaze. Alastor examined the pink furl of his hole with a little more interest than he had the rest of Husk, though it was perhaps simply because he’d uncovered a new avenue through which to crush Husk’s dignity.
A pulsating tendril slithered between Husk’s legs and nudged at his entrance, and Husk jolted, the back of his head slamming into the floor. Alastor tsked above him.
“Quiet now. We don’t want our friends walking in on this.”
Husk froze at the reminder that they weren’t alone in this hotel. And, reluctantly, he fell still, keeping his eyes pinched shut as the tendril began to breach him. To Alastor’s credit, it went slowly instead of bullying its way inside, inching into him little by little, stretching him open with a steady burn instead of the sort of sharp pain that would make him scream. It was by no means comfortable, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Alastor seemed aware that these were muscles that would need to go largely undamaged if Husk was to play his role as the dutiful bartender.
Alastor stood primly and stared while the appendage was gliding in and out of him. If he was uncomfortable with the sight, he wasn’t showing it; there wasn’t so much as a furrow on his brow. His gaze tracked the process of the tendril, watching Husk while he was stretched wider, and wider, his fingers drumming on the microphone of his cane like this was all very mundane and boring.
However involuntarily, the appendage was thick and long enough to roll over his prostate as it rocked inside him. A trickle of pleasure emerged from among the pain, dizzying and unwelcome. Another humiliation heaped upon the veritable mountain Alastor had already inflicted on him. His fingers and toes curled and oh, god, he wanted so badly not to react; not to let Alastor know he was enjoying this at all, but his cock began to harden and bob against his belly with every thrust and he hated himself so much.
The tendril in his throat made him gag again, and he welcomed it. He wanted it to asphyxiate him. Anything would be better than this, being fucked against his will and getting aroused by it. With every stroke of that tendril, his arousal grew and his cock thickened, hard and red and tipped with pre-come. He sought to hide himself with his tail, only to have that seized and pinned down just like his limbs.
He heard the click of Alastor’s heels against the floorboards before fingers wrapped around his chin and gave his head a shake. “Look at me.”
Husk slowly, reluctantly forced his eyes open, looking dazedly up at Alastor as the tendrils pistioned in and out of his throat and ass. He wasn’t drawing in enough air, and his vision swam from the lack of it. The red of Alastor’s irises hovered above him like lamp lights.
“Are you learning your lesson, Husker?” The fingers slipped away from his chin, wiping through the fuzz on his chest before falling to Alastor’s side. “Answer me.”
It didn’t seem like a good idea to refuse him, so Husk sluggishly nodded.
“Good.” Alastor lowered himself to his haunches to examine Husk, his nails grazing the reddened tip of Husk’s cock. Husk involuntarily whimpered and rocked his hips. “Really?” The corners of Alastor’s mouth tightened ever so slightly. Not quite disgust, but not approval either. “Is this a punishment at all?”
Humiliation burned up Husk’s neck, turning Husk’s skin red enough to show through his fur.
“I never knew you were such a- oh, what's the word...” Alastor's talons dragged over the underside of his cock hard enough to make Husk groan around his mouthful of tendril. “There’s a few, come to think of it. Strumpet, tramp, wench, harlot. I thought you were better than that, Husker; I really did. Perhaps you should join Angel Dust on set the next time he’s called in. Surely there’s a market for surly old cats.”
Husk’s gaze drifted away, somewhere over Alastor’s shoulder while Alastor idly applied painful little touches to his cock, as though punishing him for his obscenity. It’d been so long since he’d last had sex with someone that any stimulation at all was working against his attempts to stifle his arousal. Between the stimulation of his sweet spot and the slow, methodical scrape of Alastor’s fingers over his cock, inadvertently touching his sensitive frenulum, he was trembling from the effort to hold himself back. It wasn’t going to work. He knew it wasn’t, but he tried anyway, straining not to release despite the mounting pleasure.
Sweat dampened his fur, and he was hyper aware of every hair follicle, every point of contact. The barest graze of Alastor’s leg against his thigh was enough to make him groan, and the involuntary sounds of pleasure only compounded his humiliation.
Alastor flicked his fingers and the shadow invading his throat slid out along with a deluge of saliva. Husk coughed and grimaced and let his head lull forward, chin resting on his clavicle while he drew in hungry breaths of air. His vision slowly began to recover.
“This, I think, would be a good time for you to apologize.” His talons slid ever so delicately over a throbbing vein on Husk’s cock before curling around the tip, touching him with not an ounce of sensuality. “You’d best start before I decide to abort your, mmm... your orgasm?” A pause, and the uncertainty in it might have been amusing if not for the context. Alastor didn’t seem entirely sure Husk was about to come, despite the fact he was leaking pre-come like a faucet. “I won’t be gentle about it.”
Husk’s heart seized and he looked blearily down at Alastor’s talons encircling the head of his cock. He’d rather have a tooth pulled than find out how Alastor would prevent him from coming.
“Any requests on phrasing?” he asked, his voice rough with fatigue. He was beyond trying to recover any dignity. It was unsalvageable.
“Just speak from your heart, my good fellow,” said Alastor with mock affection, his thumb gliding over Husk’s frenulum in a way that made him have to choke back a cry. “Tell me how very, very sorry you are for such foolish, impertinent behaviour.”
He was so close to the precipice that he wanted to scream. Husk bit down on his bottom lip, fighting against the tension gathering in his pelvis before clawing a few words from his throat. “I’m sh-sorry for my impertinent behaviour. I – hmnn – wasn't thinking.”
“So close,” said Alastor. “But I'm not feeling the heart, Husker. Try again. With feeling, this time.”
“I-I- please, I’m so-” Husk’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes rolling back as his peak came closer and closer. “S-so sorry,” he strangled out, thighs tensing and quivering as his cock began to twitch. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I-I'm sorry.”
Alastor’s smile broadened and he curled his fingers, his nails biting into the soft, sensitive skin of Husk’s cock hard enough to make him cry out. And it was then, horribly enough, that he spilled himself into Alastor’s palm, his body jerking against his volition and his cock driving up into the circle of Alastor’s fingers and fuck, oh fuck, that hurt, that really fucking hurt. It was simultaneously blindingly painful and blindingly good and he was only distantly aware over the rush of sensation that tears had begun rolling down his cheeks. Alastor watched him all the while. Not once did he look down at Husk’s cock; his gaze was fixed on Husk’s face, drinking in the sight of his tears while he cried his way through his climax.
His body sagged in his restraints as his climax began to subside. His insides pulsed and ached like raw wounds once the pleasure had transitioned into something distant and hazy.
“There,” said Alastor, ever so gently. He tucked Husk’s cock away and did up his trousers. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
The shadows slipped away at the same time his hand did, and Husk fell heavily to the floor. The moment Husk noticed he’d begun to cry, he tried to stop. And he couldn’t. Now that the floodgates had been opened, they refused to close again, so he curled onto his side and hid his face in his forearms so he would at least be spared Alastor’s stare.
Alastor examined him quietly for some time before he straightened and smoothed down his coat. He tapped Husk’s back with the end of his cane. “Take a bath before you leave. You smell atrocious.”
He heard humming and the slam of the door, and Husk was left alone, curled up on the floor. He didn’t move for a very long time.
The water developed a pinkish hue when he slid into it. Husk hadn't realised he'd started bleeding during the onslaught. Whatever Alastor had ruptured in him, it wasn't bleeding enough to be of concern, so he settled at the bottom of the tub and ignored it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on his knees as he felt the water encase him and seep into his fur. He should have started scrubbing - he had plenty of mess to clean up between his thighs and on his belly - but all he wanted to do was sit there in the quiet, doing nothing, feeling nothing. Now that the shame and horror had subsided, he was oddly numb. His body didn't feel his own. It reminded him of traumas of his childhood and how he'd often curled up under the bed and told himself that everything would be okay, because whatever horrible thing that was happening to him would soon be something that happened to a version of him that existed an hour ago; a day ago; a week ago; a year ago, and maybe after a few years he'd forget it entirely.
(He never forgot.)
The water started to cool around him, and he didn't feel it. His skin began to wrinkle beneath his fur, and he didn't feel it. Shivers wracked him, but he wasn't there. He didn't exist in this moment, in this bath. He existed far, far in the future, where the violation couldn't hurt him anymore. With enough drink, he'd forget the finer details. He'd forget the way the violation smelt, the way his insides throbbed, the slickness of the tendrils, and the cold, calculating look on Alastor's face. The pitiful, shivering thing in the bath didn't exist, and as long as it didn't exist, it couldn't hurt him.
His mind drifted through the yawning dark like a nervous system torn free of its casing.
"Husk?"
The sound of a voice was slow to register. His eyelids twitched.
"Husk? Shit- how long have you been sitting in there?" A gentle hand on his arm. "Are you-?"
Husk lashed out without thinking, his claws catching his assailant across the arm. Through the shock of fear, he registered Angel stumbling back with a wince. "I--" Husk's voice caught in his throat as he saw blood trickling sluggishly down Angel's forearm.
Angel didn't look offended or hurt by his outburst. There was something far worse in his eyes: understanding, and Husk turned away from it.
Angel swallowed hard. "You've been missin' for six hours. Niffty saw you go upstairs, and then just..." He trailed off and slowly inched forward, approaching Husk like a cornered animal - which he was, really, as much as he liked to deny it. "That water must be freezing."
It must have been, but Husk barely noticed. "No."
"No, it's- it's definitely freezing. You gotta get outta there."
"No," said Husk, a little more firmly.
"Husk, c'mon. I'll be the bartender tonight, okay? Just- you gotta get out of there."
Husk fought to recover his voice, because he wasn't going to be able to convince Angel to leave if all he could say was 'no'. He didn't want the man here, comforting him. What right did he have to comfort when Angel went through this every day? Husk was falling apart, stupidly, selfishly, over one incident. "It's fine," Husk insisted, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.
"'Fine, my ass," said Angel. "You're doing the same bullshit I did to you."
"It's fucking fine, Angel," he said, voice increasing in volume before dying back to a murmur. "Just get out."
Angel's face crumpled like Husk had just slapped him. "So you can fucking die of hypothermia in this bath? Do you think that's gonna make you feel better? Believe me, I've tried this shit- it doesn't help." He stepped closer to the tub, hands raised in a placating gesture. "Please, just work with me here. I know this is hard, I know, but you gotta get out of the bath. Please, Husk."
Angel was pleading. The shame made Husk want to score his brain with a rusty knife.
He took a deep breath, and then another one, and finally looked down at his trembling knees. Beneath the fur, the skin shone ragged and bone-white. It looked ready to slough off of him. He almost wanted it to.
"Okay," he said, his voice a croak. "Okay, I'll get out."
He shifted all his limbs and found them stiff and unpliable, as though someone had applied glue to his joints. When Angel reached out to help him, he didn't push him away this time. He let Angel grab him by the shoulders and gently lift him out of the water, guiding him into stepping out onto the cold bathroom tiles. His legs would have buckled beneath him if not for Angel holding him upright with all four of his hands.
The warm presence of another body anchored him in the moment and made him want to retch. Not because it was Angel; never because it was Angel, but because suddenly he was occupying his own skin again and he was cognizant of the sickening throb of his insides and the ache of a jaw that had been wrenched too far open. He clenched his teeth over the urge to gag and allowed Angel to guide him over to the toilet, where Angel helped him sit. He sat unnaturally quiet and still while Angel retrieved towels from a rack and began to wrap him in them. They were sodden within minutes, and Angel cursed and fought to get Husk as dry as he could with what little the bathroom provided.
"You're so cold," he murmured, and Husk saw tears gathering in his eyes and wanted to cradle his face, but his limbs were so stiff that he only managed a sort of stumbling shoulder touch. Angel leaned into it regardless. "Okay, I'm- I'm gonna get you dry, then into a bed- wait, you need a doctor? Should I go get someone?"
Husk shook his head.
"A med kit?"
"Don't need one," said Husk.
"Okay, uh..." Angel worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "Painkillers? Alcohol?"
To that, Husk nodded. Painkillers, drink. Both together would do him wonders.
"Right. Okay. I can get those easy."
His fur held water so efficiently that every towel in the bathroom was soaked through by the time Husk was passably dry. Angel tossed them aside - all four of them - and helped Husk rise from the toilet seat, getting Husk to lean on him while walking him through to the bedroom. He tried to get Husk to lie down on the bed there, but Husk smelt his own come and blood and sweat sullying the floor and drew away from it, stumbling out of Angel's grip so fast that he went slamming into a wall. The impact bent his wing and popped his shoulder and he barely reacted to the pain beyond a wince.
"Not here," he said roughly.
Angel grimaced. "Shit, I'm- I'm sorry, I'm so used to just-" He shook his head and extended a hand to Husk, which was visibly shaking. "My room okay?"
While Husk didn't want to impose, the safety and comfort of Angel's room did hold appeal. He didn't want to go to his own room, where Alastor could wander in on a whim. He didn't want to lie alone in the dark.
"If you don't mind." He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the wall. He could see Angel's hand still outstretched in his peripheral, still trembling, and guilt tore through him with the force of a bullet. "Sorry, Angel. I shouldn't be putting this on you. Shouldn't have cut up your arm. I'm- I'm trying to keep it together, I just-" He didn't know how to explain himself. Why was he acting like this? Why couldn't he take this in stride, like he did everything else? If Angel managed to pick himself up after this sort of thing every night, there was no excuse for him being so reactive.
The tears that had gathered in Angel's eyes finally fell and rolled down his cheeks. He scrubbed them away with a forearm.
"Don't. Don't say that," he croaked. "This isn't one of those things you have to keep it together for, okay? This shit is hard. It hurts, and it'll hurt even worse if you're alone."
"But," began Husk, and he didn't know how to continue. The back of his eyes stung.
"I want to help," said Angel, his voice beseeching now. "Please. I promise, as soon as you don't want me around, I'll go, but I know you're just doing the same self-destructive crap I always do."
Husk opened his mouth briefly before closing it again. For all his pretty words about letting people in, he wasn't often - nor had he ever expected to be - the recipient of such things, and he didn't quite know how to take it. So he just accepted Angel's offered hand and nodded.
Angel got him wrapped in a bedsheet before curling an arm around his shoulders and leading him downstairs, taking care to avoid any prying eyes. There weren't many to speak of since it was dark enough that even the nocturnal sorts had retired for the night, but they did have to worry about catching the wide, curious eye of Niffty, who scurried about the hotel at all hours of the day and night, never seeming to sleep - though Husk knew she did catch snatches of it here and there.
Once at Angel's door, Husk shrugged off the blanket and stumbled into the cosy warmth of Angel's room. It smelt like him. Not like sex, as one might expect, but something as sweet as a siren song; some kind of perfume Husk had no chance of recognizing, because he never dabbed on anything but a little cologne to try to cover up the cat smell. Angel remained close as he tottered over to the bed and deposited himself onto it. Fat Nuggets immediately elected to join him, leaping up to settle against his chest and nudging his soft, rounded nose against Husk in greeting.
Angel perched himself on the edge of the bed and drew the blanket over Husk and Fat Nuggets. Though the gesture made Husk feel like a child, he didn't complain. He was still cold, shivering. He needed as much heat as he could get.
"So, uh..." Angel nervously threaded his fingers in his lap. "Whose face should I be emptying bullets into?"
Husk's heart skipped a beat. He stared forward at the wall, willing himself not to show visible panic. "Doesn't matter. It's done now."
"Of course it fucking matters," said Angel, his brow pinched. "Look, I know we just got done fighting off heaven and all, but I'll go back into the fray for this. I'll burst as many heads open as you need."
Husk swallowed. He couldn't tell him the truth, and not only because Alastor would punish him severely for threatening his standing with the hotel residents. If he identified Alastor as his assailant, Angel might make the connection between their prior conversation and Alastor's actions, and he didn't deserve that guilt. "Don't need any heads burst open, Angel. It's done. I- I didn't see their face, alright?" He wasn't much of a liar - reviled lying, in fact - but his stumbling efforts seemed enough to convince Angel, which made him burn with shame.
"Right, yeah. Okay..." Angel sighed and pressed his knuckles against his eyes, which were red-rimmed from his earlier crying. "I have some painkillers and alcohol stashed away. Just, you know, in case I need them." He leaned away from Husk to rifle through the bottom drawer of the bedside table, coming up a moment later with a bottle of gin and a few small, white pills. There were legitimate pharmaceuticals in hell, though it wasn't unusual for those to be given an extra kick. "Will these do?"
Husk held out his hand and Angel deposited the pills into it. Husk washed them down with half the bottle of gin, coming up for air only once he was so full that he was bloated and nauseous. "Thanks," he said, closing his eyes and sinking back into Angel's mattress.
"You... need anything?" asked Angel tentatively.
Husk looked up into Angel's lovely, worried face and willed forth a smile. "You to stop worrying. I'm-" He stopped before 'okay' could spill out of his mouth. He wasn't okay, and he'd already lied to Angel once tonight. He wasn't going to do it again. "I'll survive."
"You shouldn't have to," said Angel quietly, and Husk dragged in a raw breath and gently squeezed his hand.
"It ain't fair, I know. But it is what it is, and you're here, so..."
"You aren't alone," Angel helpfully provided.
"Yeah." Husk swallowed around a knot in his throat. "Yeah, that's right. I'm not alone."
Angel curled in closer. "Where do you want me?"
"Here," said Husk, thoughtlessly.
"On the bed?"
"Yeah." He dared move forward, burying his face into Angel's stomach like a child hiding from a storm. Angel's fur was soft and plush. It cradled his face like a pillow, and he inexplicably wanted to cry and cry and never stop. "Don't go nowhere," he said raggedly.
Angel gently folded an arm around his head and dragged his fingers through Husk's hair, stroking him in a way he would have hated from anyone else. But it was Angel, and his touch softened the quagmire of pain and shame and fear and self-loathing that threatened to drag Husk under.
"I won't leave," said Angel quietly. "I'm right here."