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“Good mornin’ to my favorite bartender,” Angel said sweetly, sidling up to the bar. “Val had me workin’ all night, but I think I might have the energy for one more drink before I crash.”
“You ain’t been to sleep?” The ends of Husk’s eyebrows fluttered with how fast he raised them.
“That is usually what ‘workin’ all night’ means, doll. And anyway, this is nothin’ new.”
“All right, all right, don’t get your panties in a twist. I just ain’t seen you come home this late before. What can I get for ya?”
“Hmm. Yeah, I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been out this long. How’s about a margarita for sippin’ now an’ a couple-a shots of tequila to help the sandman do his thing?”
“Comin’ right up,” Husk said, already reaching below the bar for a shaker. “Do you wanna…talk about it?”
Angel waved his hand, dismissing Husk’s invitation. “Nah. Not letting that fuckin’ moth take up any more of my time today.”
Husk nodded and set about shaking a large margarita, ears folded flat to his head against the din of ice cubes hitting metal. He popped the shaker open and poured the drink, ice and all, into a glass Angel lovingly referred to as his “marg bowl.”
“Here ya go. Salt and lime on the shots?”
“Nah. Don’t need ‘em.”
“But do you want them?”
“Seriously, babe, I’m okay.” Angel laughed lightly. “I appreciate you checkin’ in. Can I have a curly straw, though?”
Husk grabbed one and dropped it into the glass before pouring Angel’s shots. He placed them in front of his (fuckbuddy? lover? boyfriend?) and leaned onto his elbows, lifting his paws off the floor for a moment of relief after standing on them all night.
“Do ya wanna join me for my mornin’ nap?” Angel was making eyes at him. Not quite bedroom eyes—he had to be exhausted if he wasn’t making bedroom eyes—but eyes for sure.
“Well…I guess the bar’ll be okay without me for a few hours this morning. No one should be drinkin’ at 6 in the fuckin’ morning anyway.”
Angel raised his glass to that. “Damn straight.”
“Lemme just finish cleaning up. Don’t wanna drive Niffty too nuts.”
“Take ya time.” Angel did one shot, then the other. “I’ll just snooze here while you work.” He put his head down on the bar, resting his cheek in a sticky patch that Husk was pretty sure was left over from Charlie’s Shirley Temple nightcap about nine hours ago. There was no way in Hell that was comfortable.
When he was done, he took a moment to look at Angel. The gently snoring sinner was a sight to behold, even disheveled and hurting after a hard night. Husk brushed gentle fingers over the bruises and bite marks that littered Angel’s neck and shoulders, visible through the fine white fuzz that covered his pale skin. He’d seen how carefully Angel had walked into the lobby, how he’d hesitated before climbing on to the barstool to sit down. And yet, Husk still found his breath taken away by how pretty Angel looked. Not for the first time, he looked up and thanked whatever higher power was running the show lately for men. They had their faults, sure, but he’d be double-damned if they weren’t pretty.
Husk shook himself out of his thoughts, his ears flapping against the sides of his head, and picked Angel up and carried him to his pink, frilly bed in his pink, frilly room. Once Angel was settled, he wrapped himself around his lanky frame and drew the blanket over them both. With the unmistakable fwip of a (non-explosive) card slicing through the air, Husk hit the lights.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Husk groaned as the bed shifted, Angel heaving himself upright next to him. “Whuttimeizzit?”
“It’s two in the afternoon, babe. They’re prob’ly missin’ you at the bar by now.”
Husk groaned again, beginning to feel the chronic ache in his back. He reached for the whiskey that lived permanently on his bedside table (perks of being on Alastor’s leash: infinitely refilling liquor bottles). When his claws met only the pink fringe that trimmed Angel’s little bedside lamp, he grumbled. “D’you have anything to drink?”
“Not up here. It’s all back at Vee Tower. Charlie’d die if she saw my stash.” Angel rolled his eyes. “If there’s one thing about my old life I miss, it’s not having to get outta bed to get high.”
“Hn.” Husk pushed himself to a sitting position, feet on the floor. Patting the pockets of his pants, he came up with a little plastic shooter of cinnamon Beelzejuice. He tipped it down his throat and grimaced at the way the sickly sweetness made his teeth ache. It wasn’t gonna be nearly enough to dull any of his pain, but he could at least get the ball rolling.
Angel knelt in front of him, bringing them to just about equal heights. He took Husk’s face in his upper pair of hands, the lower pair landing on his thighs and squeezing. “Kiss me, pussycat?”
Husk leaned back slightly. “Uh. I been told I have pretty bad morning breath.”
“Eh. I’ve prob’ly kissed worse. C’mere.”
“No, really. You don’t wanna get close. I’m fuckin’ gross in the morning.”
“Whiskers. Look at me. I had a tongue down my throat last night that belonged to a barracuda sinner. Swear to God, I think I still taste fish.”
Husk rolled his eyes, but leaned forward and met Angel’s mouth with his. He didn’t fight it (but did brace for the consequences) when Angel’s tongue swept into his mouth, as if he was trying to get the rest of the cinnamon sweetness off his teeth.
“Mm,” Angel said when Husk broke the kiss. “Not bad. The cinnamon helped.”
“Really?”
“Would I lie to you?”
Husk fiddled with the little plastic ring on the neck of the shooter.
Angel hadn’t let go of Husk’s face, and he turned it this way and that, inspecting. He poked his thumb into the corner of Husk’s mouth, coaxing it open and glancing at his teeth. “Do they bother you?”
“Huh?”
“Sorry.” Angel removed his thumb, letting Husk’s mouth close so he could actually reply. “Your teeth feel gross or hurt or somethin’?”
Husk rubbed his jaw. “Mm. Sometimes.”
“You brushin’ ‘em?”
“Sometimes.” If Husk hadn’t been covered in fur, Angel would have been able to see him blushing. That was a task he’d struggled with, even in life when he hadn’t been able to regrow his teeth. Now that he was in Hell, they were conveniently replaced whenever they got knocked out in fights (or got too decayed and fell out on their own).
“It’s tough ta keep up with.” There was an almost painful amount of sympathy in Angel’s eyes.
“Can we talk about anything else. At all.” It wasn’t a question. “Doesn’t really matter anyway, since I got regeneration.”
“You don’t gotta be embarrassed, babe,” Angel reminded him gently. “I promise, I’ve seen worse.”
Husk pulled away from Angel’s hands. “It’s nothin.’ Do yourself a favor and don’t worry about it.”
“But Husk—”
“Seriously. Save yourself the trouble.”
Angel scoffed. “You ain’t getting off the hook that easy. I don’t believe it’s really nothin.’”
“I gotta go downstairs.” Husk shrugged his suspenders back on to his shoulders and left, making sure to close the door gently behind him.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Some weeks later:
“G’mornin,’” Angel slurred, stumbling up to the bar.
“Val keep you all night again? And where were you yesterday?”
“All night and all of yesterday. Fuck, I need a drink.”
“Seems like you’ve had enough.”
“Aw, Husk. C’mon. Give a girl a break. Jus’ a little one.”
Husk poured a glass of club soda and squeezed a whole lime into it, adding a straw and a cocktail umbrella. “You ain’t getting one without hydrating first. Here.”
Angel took a sip and grimaced. “S’not sweet. Eugh.”
“It’s not supposed to be sweet. But it’ll help with the bitch of a hangover you’re workin’ on.”
“Mm,” Angel hummed incredulously, drinking fast. “Okay. Done. Can I get a fuckin’ drink now?” Husk marveled at the way he could down a pint of ice-cold liquid and not seem to mind the temperature on his teeth.
“What d’you want?”
“Vodka Hellbull. But the pink flavor.”
“Of vodka or Hellbull?”
“Yeah.” Angel let his forehead hit the bartop.
“Oh-kay. Comin’ right up.” Husk’s hands had started to shake, so he poured himself a shot.
Angel lifted his head and rubbed his eyes as Husk placed the drink in front of him. “Thanks.”
“Do you wanna—”
“No.” There was an edge to Angel’s response, sharp enough to cut.
He licked his lips. “I could go with you. To nap.”
“Are ya sure you’re down? I might throw up.”
“I will take that fuckin’ drink back.”
“Nooooooooo.” Angel hugged it close, spilling it into his chest fluff. He barely seemed to notice the cold drink hitting his chest, the only indication he’d even felt it a single, useless swipe at his fluff with his hand.
“Okay then. Don’t make Niffty clean your puke.”
“You got it, boss.”
Husk flinched at the term. It’d been decades since he’d been anybody’s real boss. “So. Anyway. Nap?”
“Come if you want. Personally I won’t be coming again for at least another twelve hours.”
Husk chuckled. “Sure, Angel.”
He downed the rest of his drink in one big gulp. “Let’s go then, big guy.” He held his hand out to Husk, not even attempting to get to his feet unassisted.
Husk stepped neatly around the bar despite probably having about as much alcohol in his system as Angel did. He didn’t really feel its effects anymore—if he was a betting man (and he was), he’d put his money on that being a part of his eternal punishment, right along with being chained to Alastor and the stupid fuckin’ cat ears. Instead, he had two modes: functioning or passed out, and the secret third option of ‘withdrawals so bad you’d wish for an angelic blade.’ He wasn’t usually interested in exploring behind Door #3, so he carefully managed the timing on his drinking. “Up you go. Fuck, my back hurts.”
Angel giggled the same way he always did at their height difference and dramatically placed the back of his hand against his forehead, letting Husk take more of his weight. “Oh my, for an older guy, you’re so big and strong.”
“Yeah, yeah, Angel. C’mon. Bedtime.”
The spider demon went uncharacteristically silent as they walked together to his room.
“You okay up there?” Husk tried, not expecting a response.
“Husk?”
“Yeah?”
“Your mouth still botherin’ you?”
“Uh. What?”
“Your teeth. From the other day. Remember?”
“Can’t say I do. Don’t hit your head on the door.”
“Mm. We were talkin’ about your morning breath, and you said somethin’ about your teeth hurting you sometimes.”
Husk guided him to sit on the bed and dug underneath his pillow for his soft sleep shorts. More often than not, Angel just slept in his work clothes, but these looked extra crusty. Husk could see a couple of spots of dried blood as well as other stains he didn’t really want to think too hard about.
“I wanna help,” Angel said softly, catching his eye.
Husk sighed, his well-worn frustration over the problem rising to the surface even though he didn’t remember the conversation. “I don’t think there’s any helpin’ me.”
Angel carefully wiggled out of the tangled web of straps on his bodysuit and took the shorts, sliding them on gingerly. Husk’s eyes were drawn to his long, long legs and the bruises scattered across them. “Course there is. Isn’t that what this place is for?”
“Not for me. I’m staff.”
“So’m I…I think.”
“What’re you getting paid for?”
“You guys have been getting paid?”
“I mean, my payment is liquor, housing, and Alastor not tearing my fuckin’ soul apart. Niff gets a salary.”
“Aw, shit. I guess I really am just a volunteer. Anyway, I’m sure Charlie’d have some suggestions—”
“Oh, absolutely the fuck not.”
“But—”
“Angel. Please. I’m tired. We both had a long night.”
“Suit yourself.” He rolled over, his back to Husk, wrapping his arms around his middle. Husk grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered as he climbed into bed and wrapped himself around Angel. “Just…not yet.”
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
When Husk woke up, Angel was gone, but there was a small glass on the bedside table with a note.
Beelzejuice. Brought to you by Val’s personal stash.
Enjoy, pussycat ;)
– A
He grumbled about Angel putting himself in danger for no reason, but still drank the contents of the glass, shivering at the mild warmth at the back of his throat that took the place of the usual harsh burn. Had Angel stolen from Valentino’s best bottle? He sure fuckin’ hoped not, for the pornstar’s sake.
Husk groaned, stretching his back until it popped and straightened slightly. It was the afternoon already, and Alastor would kill him if it looked like he wasn’t doing his job.
His teeth felt rough and sticky, and he ran his tongue over them. The feeling usually went away after he ate something (if he remembered to eat) and after his first real drink of the day once he got down to the bar, he wouldn’t notice it much anyway.
He thought about what Angel had said. About wanting to help.
No. It’d just scare Angel away.
♦♦♦♦♦♦♦
Some more weeks later:
“Heya, Whiskers.” There was an extra flourish to the sway of Angel’s hips as he made his way across the hotel lobby.
“What can I do for you, Angel?” Husk was tired. It had been one of those long, terrifying days that broke up the monotony of being bored to double death. Everything hurt, his body was covered in grime from going outside, and worst of all, the inside of his mouth felt like it was coated in moss.
“Now, is that any way to greet your favorite person in the whole wide world?” Angel leaned over the bar, making bedroom eyes, as usual. “Especially when I missed your beautiful voice so much.”
Husk froze. Angel’s seductive tone usually only showed up when he was saying something wildly inappropriate, but this compliment was borderline wholesome. “Uhhh. Thanks. Sorry. What can I getcha?”
“I could go for a Shirley Temple.”
“Dirty Shirley, comin’ right up.”
“No, babe. A regular Shirley Temple. Like Charlie gets ‘em.”
“You want a virgin Shirley Temple? You feelin’ okay?”
Angel grinned nervously. “Sue me. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”
“Hey. Far be it from me to encourage your vices.” Husk’s voice was muffled as he dug around in the fridge for a bottle of Spike.
“Thanks. And…I was wondering if you would be willing to try something new, too. Later. In my room.”
Mostly, Husk wanted to wipe the worst of the gunk off his teeth with a rag and then curl up into a ball and try not to think about the couple of places he was sure he could feel some cavities forming.
Angel’s eyes half-closed and his thin frame leaned over the bar as he reached for his drink. Sexuality, personified. How could Husk say no, even feeling as shitty as he did?
“I guess it depends on what you wanna try.”
“Lemme finish my drink and I’ll show ya.” Angel winked and took a big sip of his soda.
“Don’t choke or nothin.’”
“Oh, baby, I haven’t choked on anything in decades.” Another big sip.
“Angel.” Husk shot him a look.
“What? It’s true, ain’t it?”
“I wouldn’t fuckin’ know.”
“Yes you would.”
“You’re gonna give yourself a brainfreeze.”
“That would require that I have a brain up here. Which remains to be seen.”
“Angel.”
“Whaaaat? You know I’m just messin’ around.”
“You shouldn’t talk shit about yourself.” Husk frowned.
“Aw, c’mon, what would Mr. Tall, Red, and Creepy say? You’re ruining his brand—turn that frown upside down. Here.” Angel pushed his empty glass across the counter to Husk. “It’s later. Let’s go.”
He led the way back to his room, one of his arms carrying a pink satin tote bag that Husk had never seen before. He followed, entranced by the sway of Angel’s hips. Back, forth, back, forth, tracing a sideways figure eight that had hypnotized him many times before. Angel wordlessly held the door open for him, fidgeting in a way that could have been nervous or excited.
As Husk sat down on the bed, Angel disappeared into the bathroom. Running water splashed for a while, which meant he was probably washing his hands. In a slightly unexpected turn of events, he returned in an oversized, ratty T-shirt and sleep shorts that actually provided some leg coverage. To Husk’s confusion, he was also holding a toothbrush, something made of textured silicone, a little white box of floss, and a small tube of toothpaste.
“Angel, all due respect, but what the fuck is this? You got a new kink I ain’t heard of?” He tried to keep the slight twist of fear out of his voice, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d succeeded.
“It’s not a sex thing, Whiskers,” Angel said, affectionate and exasperated. “I wanna brush your teeth.”
“What?”
Angel waved the toothbrush. “Brush.” He used it to point at Husk’s mouth. “Your teeth.”
“You want to brush…my teeth.”
“S’what I said.”
Charlie’s voice shoved its way to the front of his thoughts. “When you’re having big feelings, try and take a breath to process them before reacting! It can help avoid…unwanted negative consequences!” He took a breath. Reminded himself that Angel seemed to like him, and was probably only trying to help. Ignored the way the fur on his spine was fluffed up, ready for a fight, and how his claws were fully extended.
“Angel.” Husk said carefully. “I’m not sure if I’m remembering this right, but I’m pretty fuckin’ sure I said I didn’t want to talk about this.”
“An’ I figure, we don’t hafta talk. I can just help, an’ you can just let me.”
Husk growled. “Anthony—”
“Look,” Angel cut him off. “I know what it’s like to not be able to take care of yourself. I know how shameful it feels, how much worse it feels to let someone see an’ help instead of just curlin’ up into a ball and lettin’ yourself live in the dirt. You’re the only person I’ve let this close in decades, an’ even you have no idea how many times I’ve come up here to put myself back together again, alone. But here’s a little free advice: it may feel worse to let someone help, but you’ll feel ten times better once it’s over. So please. Let me.”
Husk curled his claws into his palms, squeezing until he felt skin break. “I don’t like this,” he ground out.
“You’re not gonna.”
“You’re not gonna. It’s been…years.”
“Since?”
“I was able to do all the shit you’re s’posed to do.”
“Fuck that. How long’s it actually been since you brushed your teeth?”
“...’Bout a week. But before that—”
“Don’t care.”
“But—”
“Do. Not. Care. Come over here.”
Husk went, mouth clamped shut and ears pinned back. His hands were shaking again, his heart skipping a beat or two every so often. He badly needed a drink.
“Lemme see.”
He closed his eyes, wishing he could run away. Wanting desperately to be anywhere but here. And at the same time, unable to move his feet.
“Husk.” Gentle hands on his face. He opened his eyes. “I’m not gonna judge. I’m not gonna have any thoughts about it at all, ‘cept for how to help without hurtin’ ya.” Angel laughed. “Hell, I’ve seen ya naked. I’d say we’ve done way more intimate shit than this.”
“...I wouldn’t.”
“Sure,” Angel agreed easily. “C’mon, pussycat. Lemme see those fangs I love to feel so much.”
Husk groaned. How was that hot? That shouldn’t have been hot. He let his eyes fall closed again and, with his face locked into a grimace, slowly opened his mouth. Angel gently lifted his chin, and Husk figured he was looking around at the sorry state of his teeth. Inspecting.
“Seems like you’re doin’ a lot of thinking and not a lot of helping,” Husk grumbled.
“I’m makin’ sure you ain’t got anything seriously wrong in there. So this doesn’t hurt you.”
“It’ll hurt no matter what. Always fuckin’ does.”
“S’that why you avoid it?”
“Mostly.”
“What’s the rest of it?”
“...Hell’s supposed to be a punishment.”
“You think you don’t deserve to have your teeth be clean?”
“I did a lotta bad shit when I was an Overlord, Angel.”
“Again. Don’t care. That’s the past. You deserve to be taken care of.”
“Angel…”
“I’ve done bad shit too. Don’t see me not lookin’ fabulous anyway.”
“We both know that ain’t self-care—it’s a job requirement.”
“Two things can be true. C’mon.” Angel led him to the bathroom and held up the little white box of floss. “Would you rather this or the picks?”
Husk sat down on the edge of the bathtub and wrapped his wings around himself. “Neither,” he said stubbornly.
“I’m not gonna force ya, Whiskers. God knows I get enough of that at work. But it’ll feel so good when it’s over. And if you’re real good, I’ll give ya a treat. Isn’t that worth it?” Angel sat down on the closed toilet seat facing him.
Husk grumbled.
“Okay, how ‘bout this. How do you feel about my fingers in your mouth?”
“As a concept? Good.”
“I meant, will you be able to let me get my hands in there with the string floss,” Angel said, exasperated but fond.
“Maybe.”
“It’ll do a better job. But it might also hurt more.”
“How many times do I gotta fuckin’ say it? It’s gonna hurt no matter what you use. A lot.”
“I hear ya. Can we try anyway? We can take breaks if you need.”
Husk sighed, slowly breaking down under Angel’s refusal to give up. “...Sure.”
“Okay.” Angel picked up the box of floss with his upper set of hands, and held Husk’s face with his lower ones. “I’m proud of you, Husk.”
Husk felt himself flush. “Thanks.”
“Hey, you wanna drink?”
“Always.” Husk felt his flush get warmer, and once again was glad for the fur on his face. That answer had come way too quickly, and he knew it. But the shakes were getting worse, and he didn’t know if he could sit through this without one. Or five.
“Check it out.” Angel held up a bottle of pale green liquid. “Some dumbass left a bottle of absinthe in the studio and I grabbed it before Val saw. I think they make it with actual hallucinogens down here.”
“Great.” Husk barely cared.
“Here.” Angel handed the bottle over and Husk took a couple of gulps, hoping the psychedelic effects would hit fast, but he didn’t like his chances. Having been drunk or high the majority of your adult life (as well as most of your unlife in Hell) tended to put your tolerances at pretty untouchable heights.
“Now the fun part—open wide, pussycat.” Angel winked and held up the floss, taut between his hands. “Look, mini bondage!”
Husk couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ve got a one-track mind, you know that?”
“You know it, babe.”
Husk tipped his head back and let his mouth fall open, face scrunching up as the floss slid between his front two teeth. Angel hummed a song as he moved quickly but thoroughly, scraping what Husk was sure was a disgusting amount of plaque out from between each pair of fangs. The fine fuzz on his fingers quickly got coated in saliva, and Husk could feel a drop of it slowly running down the fur on his chin. He fought the urge to paw at it, trying to stay still. That plan went out the window when he flinched violently somewhere past halfway through his top teeth. It felt like Angel had grabbed the nerve in his molar and stabbed it.
Angel quickly let go of the floss, just in time for Husk to snap his jaws shut with a growl. “Fuck, that hurts.” The floss tickled his chin where it was dangling out of his mouth. He tasted blood. Angel ran his hands up and down Husk’s arms in a way that was probably meant to be soothing, but was just overwhelming. “Pause.” Angel instantly took his hands away, drawing them close to his chest, carefully not touching him. Husk tugged the floss out of his mouth, sending another shooting pain up into his gums. “Ugh.” He put a hand to his cheek. The middle of the string of floss was red (he was briefly thankful for the lack of other colors—that would have been embarrassing). He leveled an accusatory look at the other sinner. “This fuckin’ sucks.”
“I know.”
“I hate it.”
“I know.”
“It’s making me mad at you. I don’t want to be mad at you.”
“I know.” Angel’s voice held a specific kind of sadness. Husk hated seeing him upset. He’d known this would happen, but they were in it now. Might as well commit.
He tested the area with his tongue to see if the bleeding had stopped. It hadn’t. He took a deep breath. “Here.” He held out the floss. “Keep going.”
“You sure?”
“Hurry up before I change my mind.”
Angel took the floss and rewrapped it. He hesitated, but didn’t ask again about continuing. “Okay, open up. Good, you’re doin’ so good,” he cooed.
Husk stopped himself from snapping at him for the baby talk, because truth be told, it was kinda helpful (and also, of course, the hands currently in his mouth were in the way). His ears were still pinned against his skull, but they weren’t shaking as much. “Hn.”
“Look, all done with the top. Time for the bottom.” Angel wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Husk rolled his eyes.
“Ha, ha.” He couldn’t say much more around Angel’s fingers.
“Yeah, I’m hilarious.” He giggled when Husk shot him a glare. “Okay, point taken. Oh, good job, baby.” He’d hit another painful spot, and Husk had jumped, but managed not to almost bite his hand off this time. Husk absolutely refused to think about what the praise was doing for him. He cast his eyes to the ceiling and also did not remember certain other situations that had involved Angel’s hands between his teeth and gripping his thighs.
“Oh, my God,” Husk groaned, rubbing his jaw when Angel had finished with his bottom teeth.
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Angel giggled again. “Usually in a different tone, though.”
“One-track mind,” Husk said. His gums throbbed in time with his heartbeat. “Ugh. Hurts.” He took another sip of absinthe.
“Do ya wanna go with the gentler toothbrush, then?” Angel held up the unfamiliar silicone thing he’d carried in with all the other dental stuff.
“The fuck is that?”
Angel slipped it on to his pointer finger and showed him the silicone bristles on the fingertip. “A geriatric toothbrush for your old-man teeth.”
Husk growled. “You’re older than me.”
“Maybe, but I died younger. No twink death for me, unlike some other guys in this room.”
He growled again. “Use the regular toothbrush, you fuckin’ menace.”
Angel laughed and grabbed the normal plastic toothbrush and got it wet. “I got ya some sensitive toothpaste to try. You ever used this stuff?”
“I never needed it when I was alive, but they started sellin’ it when I was still around. I ain’t seen it in Hell before, though.”
“Well, it was new to me.” He squeezed some onto the brush and tapped Husk’s lips with his spit-slick fingertip. “Open up again for me.”
For me, he said. Husk wondered if he knew how compelling those two words were. He opened his mouth again, fighting the urge to dig his claws into Angel’s wrist and yank his hand away.
He flinched, but didn’t bite down, when the cold water from the toothbrush hit his teeth. When Angel started gently scrubbing his fangs, a low, pained whine escaped his throat. He screwed his face up, fighting the humiliation that crawled down his spine at the sound.
“It’s okay, you’re doin’ so good. You’re bein’ so strong, Whiskers. Just hold out for me for two little minutes. I know it hurts. After this, we’ll do whatever you wanna do. I’ll distract ya. I know you can do it for a little longer. Doin’ so good, baby.”
Angel’s constant stream of encouragement distracted him from the shame of the occasional whimper when the bristles of the brush poked his sensitive gums. He gagged when Angel brushed his very back teeth and again, harder, when the toothbrush hit the back of his tongue. When the brush finally pulled back from his mouth, the foam was pink with blood and the fur right under his eyes was damp (and if anyone asked, that was sweat, definitely not tears).
“Okay, Whiskers. Spit.” Angel got out of his way so he could lean over the sink.
Husk gagged again on the foam, then spat several times into the sink. “You’ve definitely never said that one before,” he said, out of breath, the joke escaping his lips before he had the chance to even think about it.
Angel let out a surprised laugh. “What, I can’t make any jokes but you can say shit like that? No fair!”
“Who said anything about fair?” Husk rinsed his mouth and spat again. “God, my teeth hurt. I ain’t letting you touch me again for a fuckin’ month.”
“Wait, no, hang on,” Angel deadpanned. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?”
“I can kiss it better.”
“You can try.”
“And I will. But first: mouthwash.”
Husk groaned. “Fuck you, Angel.”
“You promise?”
The mouthwash burned, but he’d drunk liquor that burned worse.
“And how would you rate my performance?” Angel was grinning at him, still perched on the closed toilet seat, so they were about eye-to-eye.
“Zero outta ten. Absolute shitshow.”
“Phew. And that was factoring in the cute guy doin’ you the service?”
“Mhm. Lucky you avoided the negatives.”
Angel clutched a string of imaginary pearls. “You wound me, Whiskers.”
“Don’t even start. And even if I did hurt ya, you’re into that shit.”
“Only a little.”
“S’not what you said the other day.”
“Ugh, quit it.”
“Never.” Husk grinned, displaying his freshly cleaned teeth.
“Would ya let me do it again?”
“What, put myself through all that shit again? We’ll see how I’m feelin’ in the morning.”
“Course. An’ if you decide no, we don’t hafta. Or if you wanna try the gentler toothbrush. Or whatever. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“It’s okay, Angel. I…” Husk trailed off, looking for the right words. “Thank you.”
“Aw, forget about it. Hey, I promised you a treat! What d’you wanna do?” Angel wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Let’s just watch a movie.” Husk looked away, voice trailing off into a grumble. “Mostly I just wanna cuddle right now, anyway. I’m tired.”
“I bet you are. If that’s what ya want, that’s what we’ll do.”
They left the bathroom together, Husk’s new toothbrush now sitting in the cup next to Angel’s. They pulled his blankets into something resembling a nest and settled in to watch a movie on his phone. It wasn’t long before Angel’s hand drifted up to stroke his ears, pulling a satisfied purr from his chest.
“Hey, Angel?” Husk said, eyelids barely open. “Why’d you do it?”
“I like takin’ care of you.”
“I know it wasn’t pretty.” Husk grimaced. “I bet it was pretty fuckin’ disgusting, actually.”
“Yeah, but that’s okay.”
“Angel!”
“What? You want me to lie?”
“Ugh, you ain’t s’posed to agree.”
Angel laughed and kissed the top of Husk’s head. “Doesn’t have to be pretty. Not when it’s you.”
Husk turned his face, pushing his nose deeper into Angel’s chest fluff. His throat was too tight to say anything back, so he tried to keep the tears from escaping his eyes, squeezed Angel harder, and hoped that was enough.