Chapter Text
The neon lights of the Magic Kat were a beacon. The lights blurred to a golden smear as the rain battered the roofs of every casino in the Pride Ring of Hell. Demons of varying shapes and colors darted for the red awning, disappearing beneath the glowing emblem of a devilishly grinning black cat.
Husker yanked his collar up to ward off the pelting rain. It didn’t hurt that it shadowed his face as he strolled into the casino. He didn’t need anyone recognizing him.
The lobby was quiet, but the casino floor beyond was thrumming with bursts of music and chatter. Blinking, whirring lights spattered the walls with colorful spirals as hopeful demons tried their luck at the slot machines and card tables as far as the eye could see.
The cat-demon followed the crowd into the gambling hall, dodging cocktail waitresses with teetering trays and excitable, greedy patrons. As Husk passed, a dragon-looking demon burst into cheers as he threw down a royal flush onto a felt red card table. Another demon held his head in his hands as the slot machine before him glowed dully.
Husk huffed to himself. It felt somehow like home and another lifetime all at once.
He didn’t even pause as a slimy-looking demon slunk up beside him, eyeing the pockets of his slacks. “Listen, bub, I’m in need of some tokens,” the demon hissed. His smile was full of teeth. “Empty your pockets and don’t make a scene about it.”
Without slowing his stride, Husk raised his fist and opened it to reveal a set of dice. The demon blinked at them before they promptly exploded in his face. Husk left him coughing on a black cloud.
Yeah, nothing ever really changed ‘round here.
Husk loped off the beaten path, taking the long route between the rows of slots to the pub. The bartop was tucked snugly into the far wall with a few tables separating the bar from the rest of the game floor. His favorite whiskey was stocked and featured front and center on the top shelf.
Someone in this dive deserves a raise.
Husk gave the bartender a two-fingered salute of a greeting. The rabbit-demon sent him a dull, impossibly bored expression and finished polishing a glass before making his way over.
“Whiskey. Make it neat.” Husk received a short nod before the bartender disappeared behind the taps. He leaned his elbow on the bar, cheek in hand. It wasn’t long before his own grumpy reflection peered back at him from the swirling brown glass of whiskey placed before him. Husk cleared his throat.
“One more thing, Cottontail.” The rabbit-demon bartender rolled his eyes.
Husk hesitated, eyeing the boisterous demons grouped at the other end of the bartop. He slipped a gold coin across the counter, edges cut smooth to resemble the head of a cat and emblazoned with a red spade. “I’m looking for a private show.”
No taking it back now.
The bartender narrowed his eyes at Husk before pocketing the coin. He jerked his chin toward an arched doorway at the end of the bar, red velvet curtains swept forward to hide the dark interior. Husk grunted in thanks like he didn’t already know where to go.
As much as he wanted to knock it back, Husk nursed his drink for a time. The lights on the casino floor eventually dimmed to sultry shadows and a new wave of dealers and hustlers hit the floor, dressed to the nines and ready to drain unsuspecting johns of their cash.
Husk made his way to the door behind the bar. The black of the cat-demon’s pupils rounded in the oppressively dark hallway. No one had bothered with the lights, throwing the red-draped curtains and dark paneling into a passing idea of opulence. He passed several closed doors, some he knew to be one-on-one meeting rooms and some for more intimate games. He’d spent endless hours behind these very doors, gambling outrageous sums of money with overlords and enemies all the same, and occasionally dabbling in the dangerous business of soul betting, a game that no one could ever truly win.
Deep gold paint glinted along the doorframe at the end of the hall. Light flickered just beyond, a low base and alluring melody rising in volume. Husk flattened his palm against the wood and inhaled a deep breath. The air left his lungs in a shaky hiss.
This was stupid. He was probably making a huge mistake. If the kid didn’t want to see anyone from the hotel, then he certainly didn’t want to see Husk. After all, he was supposed to forget he ever knew Angel. The cat-demon gritted his teeth and glared at the door. Yeah, really fucking stupid.
“Well too damn bad.”
Husk forced the tension out of his shoulders and adopted a calm swagger as he pushed open the door. A soft creak announced his presence. Multiple sets of eyes, narrowed and gleaming wickedly, turned his way. Husk raised an unimpressed brow at the small crowd of demons splayed across furniture around the lounge.
So much for ‘private.’ He tipped back a large mouthful of whiskey, finishing it in one gulp.
The room was intimate. There was a small VIP bar and five or six low red booths dotted the floor, the scent of leather and quality booze filling the snug space. All of the seating faced a small raised stage in the center of the room. The familiar set of wings, emblazoned with playing card suits, was crafted into the paneling that comprised the platform. Atop it stood a lone brassy microphone stand. The spotlight shone hazily on the empty stage.
Husk made his way to the last open booth in the lounge, nervously rotating an Ace of Hearts between his clawed fingers as he fell into the seat.
Excitement warred with dread in his chest, tightening painfully like thorny vines. The last time he’d seen him, Angel had been making that fucking face, the one that haunted Husk when he closed his eyes. He’d never seen the kid look so defeated.
Fuck’s sake, he needed another drink.
Husk raised a claw to signal the cocktail waitress when the lights dipped, dropping the room into blackness. Husk was blinded for a few seconds before the spotlight clicked on in an unexpected place, offstage. All eyes were drawn to the farthest booth, highlighting the presence of the singer as though they’d appeared in a soft cloud of magic. Long legs were delicately folded on the glossy wooden booth-top and stunning white hair swept into one long lustrous sweep behind a glittering floor-length stunner of a dress.
Husk slowly lowered his hand as he stared.
Angel…
The golden mic flashed blindingly white in the spotlight as it rose to red lips, Angel tossing beautiful white hair over a slender shoulder. Husk’s eyes were drawn down the tight black ensemble to where the fabric flared at the knees, cascading along the booth and pooling onto the floor below like a waterfall. Angel looked soft, dangerous, and expensive.
The spider-demon started to sing and an upright base began to thud and pulse in low, lingering notes. He crossed his legs and threw his head back on a breathy croon, exposing the smooth, soft fur of his throat. The song was soft and low, and even though he was smiling, Angel’s voice was colored with something that made Husk’s chest ache.
His heeled boots hit the floor with a click and he tumbled gracefully into a smooth cat-walk, making his way to a patron seated a few booths away, a dog-demon who looked a little too excited for Husk’s liking.
Angel did a spin, showing off the backless dress and tugging the panting patron along with him. Before he knew what hit him, the demon was dropped unceremoniously back into his seat with a thud. The dog-demon looked like he might start salivating at any moment.
The upper set of Angel’s arms were already spread wide across the back of the next booth, his jewel-studded fingers tracing a slow, meandering line along the wood until his fingers met the beefy shoulders of the bird-like creature spread casually along the leathery cushion.
Husk watched the fabric bunch beneath Angel’s lilting touch. He moved like a dream, fluid and somehow soft and sharp all at once.
The song took on a quivering trill, a bit too sharp. Husk’s eyes darted to Angel’s face. Eyes wide, the spider-demon was looking right at him, mouth dipped into a little ‘o.’ A shiver jolted through Husk’s wings as their eyes locked.
Damn. Husk winced. Busted.
Husk tried not to look guilty as he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. He tried for a reassuring smile. He silently mouthed, ‘Hey Loser.’
For a moment they simply gazed at one another across the lounge. Angel's eyes seemed to trace over Husk, taking him in from head to tail, like he didn't believe he was truly there. Husk could see his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths. The spider's mouth pressed into a thin line and before he turned away, his eyes went glassy under the lights.
Husk’s heart tripped. He moved to stand, reaching out as though he could touch Angel.
It was over in a second. Angel’s pained expression slipped away, hidden behind a seductive flutter of his lashes. Husk’s claws tightened around his glass and he tried to swallow over the knot in his throat. He shouldn’t have come here.
Angel had already moved on to the next demon. He surprised the patron, a reptilian-looking demon, by sitting down in the booth beside him. Angel leaned in close, voice honeysuckle-sweet as it dripped from the mic. He tapped a finger on his snout and the demon smiled dopily from ear-to-ear.
The spider-demon bestowed the room with a sparkling smile, his gold tooth shining as the spotlight glided along with him. He sauntered to the next booth and slid onto the table, arching a thigh across a patron’s lap. Angel leaned in and daintily flicked a finger at one of the demon’s expensive earrings. The jewelry danced and sparkled above his palm.
The spider-demons’ lashes were at half-mast, but Husk could just make out the slanted glance sent his way. Husk frowned.
Angel tilted his chin as he sang until it looked like he was whispering in the client’s ear, but his eyes never left Husk. The lucky demon sported a small pair of wings, and Angel ran his knuckles along the natural curve and dip of the wing, almost longingly. Husk felt his own wings shudder in response.
The winged demon reached out and slapped a hand over Angel’s waist, yanking him close. Angel lost his footing, followed by a hiccup in the melody. Asshole. Husk gripped his whiskey glass so hard it cracked.
He knew Angel would handle it. The spider swung an elegant leg over the back of the booth, not so subtly clocking the brute with his heeled boot. He continued his winding strut through the room, leaving the winged creature rubbing at his newly bruised head. Husk chuckled, settling back and folding his arms across his chest.
Angel paused just below the stage to belt the melody, throwing his hands out to the room. Hoots and whistles followed. A few demons raised their drinks toward the stage. Husk raised his cracked glass.
Angel’s eyes found him again over the rim of the glass. There was something like laughter hidden in the curl of his mouth, like they’d shared a joke just between them. The knot in Husk’s stomach loosened.
The spider ran his hands down his hips. The dress flared dramatically at the touch, a stunning swath of fabric so dark and glitter-studded it looked like a shard missing from the night sky. Husk realized he was smiling at the spider-demon as he approached.
Angel came around the booth in a slow swagger, hips swaying in time with the strum of the low bass. He leaned down on his elbows, arching his back and showcasing his chestfluff. Husk made a valiant effort to keep his eyes on Angel’s face.
As they gazed at one another, a strangely wild and determined look crossed Angel’s face. Husk’s brows drew together in confusion. Then, without a dip in the notes, Angel straightened and climbed over his lap.
Angel held the mic in an upper arm and brushed his hands along Husk’s shoulders with the lower set. The cat-demon froze, stunned solid.
Angel grinned brightly down at him. It was a real smile, not the kind he’d plaster on with a suggestive come-on, but a smile that filled in the shadows with dimples and lit the clever spark in his eyes.
“Angel, I’m sorry,” Husk murmured.
Angel’s face softened. He gave Husk’s bowtie a gentle tug and the cat-demon found he had no strength to refuse. He let Angel pull him close, not quite touching. Angel gazed down at him as he practically exhaled the song on a whisper that brushed against Husk’s cheek. The cat’s breaths shallowed.
Husk blinked in surprise when Angel plucked Husk’s arms out of their crossed position with his lower set of arms. He gingerly placed the cat’s hands on his hips.
Husk felt his ears flatten with shock, unsure where it was safe to put his claws. The spider in his lap leaned in close, cheek brushing his jaw.
“Work with me, Whiskers.” Angel’s grip was light and loose. Husk could easily pull away if he wanted.
What kind of fuckery is this? Husk narrowed his eyes. The cat-demon let his palms settle into the black fabric, gazing up into Angel’s eyes grumpily.
Angel was addressing the room again, but the mic was rumbling and sultry beside Husk’s ear. When Angel leaned back to sing into the mic, Husk got a mouthful of luxurious white hair. He snorted and grimaced. The cat-demon didn’t have to see his face to know Angel was laughing at him, chest vibrating with silent laughter.
He swatted at Angel’s hip in retribution, and paused as he felt the strained tension of his thighs under his fingers. Husk chewed his lip. He couldn’t quite look at the spider as he gave his hip a soft tug in offering, down in the direction of his lap.
The spider shivered in his arms, but proceeded to let Husk hold more of his weight, thighs spreading wide on either side of him. Husk hooked a claw into the fabric, preventing the dress's slit from widening obscenely.
The song was quieter now, and somewhere in the back of his mind Husk realized it must be coming to an end. Pale fur filled his vision as Angel ran his knuckles along the slope of his ear, following the path to his top hat.
Angel deftly flipped the top hat onto his own head. It settled askew on his voluminous wig. Husk stifled a grin.
Angel drug out a long, high note, wispy and swirling like a spider spinning her web. Husk’s ear flickered, the sound so sweet he could almost feel it as a caress in his fur.
It was a few long moments before Husk realized it was silent, the band quiet and the chatter halted. Every eye was on the two of them, no doubt jealous and leering at Angel tucked close and gathered against Husk.
“You can let go now,” Angel’s voice was fond, but Husk jolted, hands shooting up and off of him instantly.
Angel snickered and stood to gather himself, straightening the wrinkles out of his dress. The room buzzed back into motion, cocktail waitresses swishing between the booths and a few demons shuffling back to the casino floor. Husk knew they were still being watched though.
When he turned his gaze back to Angel, the spider was tucking the mic into his chest fluff. Husk felt his cheeks grow warm.
“Didn’t expect to see ya back here, Husky.”
Husk snorted. The kid was delusional if he thought Charlie and her optimistic gang of misfits would stay away forever.
“Ain’t getting rid of me that easy, Legs.”
Angel hummed, tucking his hair behind his ear. He looked at the floor instead of Husk’s face when he replied.
“It's good to see ya',” he said quietly. “I’m glad you’re doin' okay.”
Husk raised a brow. He didn’t know in what reality he classified as, or looked ‘okay.’ That very morning, Cherri had kindly informed him he looked worse than the ‘swill he tried to serve behind the bar.’ Then she had graciously pretended she didn’t see him look at the empty barstool a particular spider-demon used to occupy.
“But don’t come here again,” Angel said, voice suddenly hard. He was wringing his hands. “It’s not safe for ya’.”
Husk tried not to flinch. It’s not like he’d expected a warm welcome after the way they’d parted, but whatever. Husk could work with this. A magician always had a few tricks up his sleeve.
“Fine,” Husk retorted. Angel’s shoulders hunched, still glaring at the floor. He nodded solemnly, but Husk wasn't done. “I won’t come here again.” The cat-demon jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the lounge.
Angel’s head jerked up and his brow creased. “What does that mean?”
Husk shrugged and put his hands in his pockets again. He strolled for the door, but first he paused beside the spider. The cat had to tilt his head back to see into Angel’s face. Not even the glittery makeup could hide the dull purpling and bruising beneath Angel’s eyes.
“You look real good tonight, Legs.” Angel’s cheeks pinked. Husk smirked at his gaping mouth. “Take care of yourself and don't listen to everythin' that shitty moth says. Stay sharp."
Leaving the spider behind was harder than it looked, especially when he looked like that, but Husk had no wish to make it harder on him. Angel's voice stopped him at the door. “Wait, Husk, ya’ hat!” A glance over his shoulder showed Angel waving his black top hat in the air.
“Keep it. It looks better on you.”
Husk made his exit down the hall. Like he’d said, a magician always had a few tricks up his sleeve. Or rather, in this case, in his hat.