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The hotel was empty by the time Angel Dust got back to the hotel. Doing a double take to make sure the lobby was empty, he slipped inside and carefully closed the door behind him, grateful the rusty hinges didn’t squeak, his beloved boots slung over his shoulder in case their tell tale click betrayed him.
On soft, silent, stockinged feet, he tiptoed past the front desk and towards the stairs. Less risky than the elevator. Chuck and Vaggie would be pissed he didn’t sign in, especially since he was way past curfew but he’d deal with that in the morning. He’d had to deal with enough lectures today and much as he knew Charlie meant well, sometimes you just needed a break.
He was both relieved and disappointed that Husk wasn’t behind the desk waiting for him like he usually was. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk right now, not even to the cute kitty cat whose cantankerous attitude betrayed a surprisingly good listener and secret softie underneath.
Stopping by his room to change, clean off his make-up and check on Fat Nuggets, he dropped his boots, stripped out of his dress and pulled on a pair of comfy leggings and a cozy sweater dress and slippers, and made his way to the roof. The chilled, sulfuric air felt good on his skin and he exhaled deeply.
This week had been rougher than most and his usual vices weren’t going to cut it. When his anxiety built up like this, there was only one way Angel could expel all the excess energy before it festered and overwhelmed him. Standing in the middle of the roof, his feet flat, he took a long, deep breath and held it. He exhaled sharply, spread his arms wide and started to dance.
This wasn’t the precise pole dances or cartographed cabaret numbers he did for work where all eyes were on him and he could command the attention of everyone in the room with just a glance: this was a wild, chaotic jib, all lively steps and fearless, ungraceful pirouettes. He could spin, step, punch, kick and move however the fuck he liked and belched out whatever show turn he wanted at the top of his lungs and no one could tell him otherwise. It was the closest he ever came to feeling free. To feeling like himself. To flying.
There were many things Angel hated about his job, though he’d never admit to it, but the one thing he truly loved was the dancing. Being on stage, the attention, the movement, the music, the feeling of freedom that only came from being on a literal pedestal and having all the room look up at him like he was the sun at the center of their universe. It was the one thing he’d loved doing most when he was alive as an undercover Drag Queen, the one place his father and his impossible expectations could never touch him, the one place he was free to just be Anthony and not the son of a Mob Boss forever in the shadow of his perfect older brother who he could never live up to.
When he died and woke up in Hell, he embraced that world with gusto and even now after so many decades it was the one thing he still truly loved, no matter how much others tried to take it away from him. When he was on that stage, it didn’t matter where he was or who was watching: he was untouchable, he was free, he was alive . In those few precious moments, Angel was truly himself. And no one, not even Val- fucking -tino could take that away from him.
Though Hell and Satan knew the fucker tried.
When things with Val had first started spiraling out of control, it had been the roof that was Angel’s sanctuary. The one place he could go to crumble: to cry, to smoke, to breathe, to dance where no one could find him or bother him. Whatever fallout might happen as a result of his going missing was worth those few precious moments he could just be up there and dance his stress and anxiety away. Being that high up in the Hell sky among the clouds and the sulfuric stars, moving chaotically and with no rhythm: it was the most breathtaking and liberating feeling in all the world.
Of course, it didn't last long.
Soon enough, they would find him. Val had always been frustratingly good at figuring out his haunts with the exception of Cherri’s place. Something else in Angel’s life that fucker demanded control over. This week has been a perfect example. Everytime Angel needed a break or tried to slip away to breathe, there was Valentino or one of his bodyguards or bouncers steering him away or dragging him back to his dressing room or keeping his breaks so short he didn’t have the time. Angel knew damn well the fucker was doing it to be an asshole, just because he could. They both did, and yet there was nothing Angel could do about it. And they both knew it.
He could’ve fucking cried when the week finally ended and he was free to return to the Hotel (probably because he stopped trying to sneak away) and finally got a goddamned day off. But this , here at the Hotel atop one of the tallest buildings in the city where he could see the clouds and the stars and even look down at the studio in the distance, here Angel felt truly free: free to dance and sing and move and step and laugh and pretend nothing else mattered. Not Val, not redemption, not his asshole pops, not even the warm, fuzzy feeling that had been burning in his chest whenever he was at Husk’s bar that he downright refused to acknowledge was anything other than an attraction born crush.
He’d lost count how many times that had burned him—even if Husk was a surprisingly good listener. And always volunteered to watch his baby Nugs when Angel had to work late. And always had one of Angel’s favorite drinks prepared whenever he got back. And came all the way across town to bring him lunch And made really good sandwiches. And those corny magic tricks always did make him laugh when he had a bad day. And—Fuck, Angel needed to stop, before he—
“Wow...”
Angel nearly tripped over his own feet and stumbled with a scream. He braced his arms out to catch himself and prepared for the impact but was surprised when instead of feeling the biting soreness of cold hard concrete, fuzzy muscular arms and soft feathers from two enormous wings enveloped him in a cocoon of safety, as if shielding him from the world and everyone else in it.
When Angel finally dared to open his eyes, Husk was holding him around the waist, chocolate brown and amber eyes smoldering and focused on him as if waiting for him to come back to himself. “Sorry,” he apologized in that gruff, sexy voice, roughened from years of alcoholism and always made Angel think of cigars and whisky by the fire. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Angel’s brain short-circuited as the cat demon set him on his feet. He forced himself to recover and pulled away with a frustrated “The fuck, Husk!” defaulting to his usual method of defence with a bark of annoyance, and made a show of brushing off his sweater. “Can’t a gal get five minuted to himself without everyone spying on him?”
“I—ugh,” the stutter caught Angel off guard, but Husk recovered quickly and groaned. “Oh, don’t fucking flatter yourself, I wasn’t spying! I came up here to drink.” He grumbled gesturing to the bottle in his hand, internally berating himself for how smooth that was not.
It wasn’t entirely a lie after all. “The fuck have you been anyway? You haven’t been at my bar in almost a week?”
“Oh, you’ve been waitin for me, big boy?” Angel flashed a toothy, coquettish grin completely opposite the bright, wistful, unapologetic smile Husk had seen him donning just a minute ago.
He refused to answer though. In truth he had been waiting for Angel. He didn’t know when he’d grown accustomed to the other’s presence at his bar every night. When the expectation of Angel ordering a drink and talking for hours had become routine for him. Husk had never been much of a talker, and he certainly wasn’t a listener, but Angel knew how to spin a story and sometimes those conversations were actually enjoyable. Other times, he could tell the other just needed someone to rant to and Husk didn’t mind being that ear. He hadn’t realized how much he’d come to depend on those conversations, let alone enjoy them until this week when Angel had been absent, doubtless working late for that asshole moth overlord whom Husk had already disliked and now formed a list of ways to mutilate the more Angel came home bruised, exhausted or just needed to angry cry. Those nights made Husk’s fury boil over and his chest squeeze with something like helplessness as well as protectiveness.
When it looked like tonight would be another night absent the spider’s presence, Husk had relented to drink on the roof as he did when he was feeling lonely and angry and needed something to dull those fierce emotions less them consume him.
Only to walk in on the most stunning sight he’d ever seen.
“What are you doing up here anyway?” Husk asked, no scorn or judgement, just earnest curiosity. “Aside from dancing, I mean?”
Angel’s bi-colored eyes widened, and was that pink color make-up? Or was an actual blush spreading across Angel’s face? When the soft rosy color started spreading south to his chest fluff, Husk realized, stunned, that it was the latter.
“Oh, you...uh..saw that?” Angel stuttered, brushing back his hair and rubbing his upper arm, the other slipping behind his back to hold its opposite shoulder. It was the first time Husk had ever seen Angel tongue-tied, or worse, nervous. It was….incredibly cute.
Husk swallowed, tone even and shoulders shrugging. “Some of it.” That had been a bold-faced lie, but he’d be damned if he admitted that. In truth, as soon as he saw Angel on the roof, moving and singing to his own tune, his entire brain and body shut down and all he could do was watch. He’d seen Angel dance before, but never like that . It wasn’t flawless, it wasn’t practiced, it wasn’t rehearsed or poised like the costumes and masks he donned on a daily basis.
No, Husk realized, this wasn’t Angel Dust, Hell’s favorite Porn Star, this was...just...Angel. The real Angel that existed behind the persona. It stunned him, how much different Angel looked when he danced like that...like he was truly happy...free.
It made his chest tighten and squeeze with something he’d thought he’d lost a long time ago.
“Yeah,” Husk answered, dropping all pretense. “You looked like you were having fun.”
Angel’s blush darkened a bit and he looked away. After seemingly calming himself down he answered. “Yeah, well...I needed a break…” A pause, nervous and considering. “It’s been a rough week.”
“I figured.” Husk popped open the bottle and handed it to him. “The fuck that asshole have you doing anyway?”
They sat down and leaned against the wall of the roof. Angel gratefully accepted the bottle and took a few large gulps. “What hasn’t that fucker had me doing!” Angel complained with a growl both furious and frustrated. “I don’t know what the fuck crawled up Val’s ass and died, but all this fucking week its been non-stop, shootings, photo-opps, and parties, and jons, I think in the last seven days I had like one break and that was just for ten fucking minutes! And the worst fucking thing is he wasn’t even there half the time or if he was, he was on his stupid phone yelling at Vox! Ugh! They must’ve gotten into another fight or something, every time shit goes down between those two, Val takes it out on everyone else! Thank Fuck tomorrow’s my day off or I swear I was gonna fucking explode!”
He was out of breath before he was out of rants, but Angel didn’t care. He expelled all his anger and ran his hands through his hair and then deflated as if his own outburst had exhausted him. The worst part of it all was that it wouldn’t be the last time this shit happened. And when it did there was nothing he could do about it. The thought alone was enough to plunge him back into that black abyss of hopelessness and despair that had become his constant companion these last few decades no matter how much he drank, high he got, or men he fucked.
All of that melted away when he felt Husk’s paw on his shoulder.
“Fuck, that is a lot,” Husk said, shaking his head. He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to. By now he knew Angel didn’t need someone to “fix” things by telling him what to do or how to feel, he just needed someone to listen. That he could do—even if every word made Husk want to leap off the balcony, fly to that stupid studio and punch that fucking moth until he broke all his teeth.
A snort broke his bloodthirsty musings and Husk whirled around, finding Angel trying and failing to swallow another snort before laughing, loudly and in the most unapologetic way possible. “Thank you!” The sarcasm of it was nearly drowned out by his laughter, and in that second Husk realized he would do anything if it would keep Angel laughing like that.
“Anyway,” Angel took a breath, steadying himself before he continued. It felt good to laugh, as if somehow Husk’s comment had validated all the rage and anxiety and stress he’d been building up over the course of the week and it was okay to just let it out. “If it gets too bad I usually head up to the roof and just...dance, ‘cause I can, but lately Val’s been a dick about that too, so I’ve been coming up here. Just to...do it…”
It was hard to explain and Angel wasn’t sure if he could, or should. Husk didn’t need to be burdened with his problems. But the way the barcat looked at him, saying nothing but those amber eyes, bright and encouragingly smoldering, awakened something in him he hadn’t felt with anyone except Cherri Bomb. So, Angel did the one thing he never did: he told the truth.
“I love ta dance, always have, but sometimes I just need to do it for me and not ‘cause I’m performing, just…’cause I can. ‘Cause I want to” He stood up then and leaned against the brick wall, looking out at the city below. Husk leaned out next to him, but didn’t interrupt. “When I dance, whether it’s on stage or like this, it don’t matter, those are the only times I feel like...Like I’m me. I don’t have to play a role for the camera, or have to pretend to be someone else for a client, or have to please anyone, I can just do it...because I want to. Because I choose to. It’s different when I’m on stage, but here, I don’t have to perform, or act, or practice or any of that shit. I can just...be me. It’s the only time I don't have to be Hell’s numba one porn star, or Valentino’s bottom bitch, or every Jon’s wet dream or someone’ s charity case, I get to be…just...Angel…and that’s enough.” He paused again. “It’s the only time I get to be free...sometimes, I even feel like I’m flying, like I can just leave all this behind and nothing else matters...and no one, not even Val- fucking-tino can take that away from me.”
He crossed his arms and leaned his cheek against them. He smiled at Husk who just smiled back, content to enjoy the quiet and the silence and the freedom of not having to perform, before playfully adding. “And if you tell anyone, I’ll shoot ya.”
Husk’s grin widened and he snorted. There was something about that grin, something mischievous, but earnest, like even if he never made Angel a single promise or verbal confirmation, he knew Husk would keep all his secrets and take them to his evanescence.
Then Husk stood up and hopped onto the ledge. Angel leaped back, surprised until Husk held out a paw towards him.
“Uh?” Angel arched a quizzical brow, but took Husk’s hand anyway, and let the other pull him to stand on the ledge. “Whatcha doing?” He was suddenly very grateful he’d taken off his heels.
“I got an idea,” Husk’s grin widened, showing his teeth. “Ya trust me?”
Angel snorted, smirking. “Famous last words, but what the hell, righ-AH!”
The word morphed into a scream when the ground disappeared and Angel found himself suddenly hurled through the air. He dangled in empty space then was suddenly propelled forward by Husk’s huge paws taking his upper hands and crashed against the feline’s strong chest. Two strong arms wrapped securely around his waist and the rush was so sudden and distorting, Angel couldn’t even enjoy the feel of Husk’s arms around him.
Frantically, all four of Angel’s arms clung to the man like a terrified spidermonkey. His eyes bulged as the hotel disappeared and the city shrank beneath him. The rhythmic gusts of wind echoed in his ears so loud it almost drowned out the sounds of rough laughter. Almost.
Two strong arms tightened their hold and Angel’s shock-addled brain finally registered what was happening. Above him, Husk let out a loud bellowing laugh, swallowed by each flap of those mighty red wings and when he looked at him, those amber eyes were glowing. The unexpected warmth made Angel’s chest squeeze and his face flush as they climbed higher and higher into the air.
Torn between embarrassment and anger, Angel chose anger and reached up to smack the man upside the head but barely managed to move when his entire body trembled in Husk’s hold and he once more found himself clinging to the all too amused cat with a shriek.
“The fuck, Husk!” Angel shouted above the roar of the wind. “Ya nearly gave me a heart attack!” His cheeks were puffed up in rage and flushed with the beginning of laughter making it impossible for Husk to take him seriously.
“Yeah, yeah,” he grinned, “Just shut up and enjoy the ride.” He resisted the urge to smile wider as Angel gaped, baffled and floundering for a comeback.
He did smile however, when Angel pouted and actually did as he was told, and grinned wider when the spider gasped with all the wide-eyed wonderment of a child at christmas.
Pinned as he was by Husk’s arms, Angel could barely make out the ground below, but he saw the tops of the buildings flickering with their neon lights like fallen stars, the skyline of Pentagram’s skyscrapers jutting like the jagged spines of a giant monster and the wisps of the clouds as Husk carried him higher and then steadied himself into glide, allowing those gorgeous red wings to expand to their full length, the golden hearts and poker suit on full display and, damn him if it wasn’t the most magnificent thing Angel had ever seen.
Bewilderment gave way to stunned mystification, bulging Angel’s eyes and widening his smile until each gasp split his face. His grunts of annoyance transformed into gasps of astonished wonderment that erupted into full fledged laughter. “Holy shit!” Angel gasped out and it took all of Husk’s will not to freeze up at how tight his chest grew in that moment.
Feeling bold, Husk pulled his wings closer together and dropped into a dive. A surge of pride rushed through him when Angel clung tighter to him with a screech that was half adrenaline-fueled-terror and half excited-laughter. He was still laughing as the sky passed by in a whirling rush and the sulfuric wisps of Hell’s clouds misted all around them. He evened out and down below buildings rose and fell with their closeness: late night sinners running a mock looked like ants in a terrarium and the city lights danced and flickered like polymorphic stars.
Feeling Angel struggling for a better angle and his grip loosening, Husk ordered “Hold still for a sec,” and dropped one arm from Angel’s waist. Angel gave a furious scream and clamped two arms around his neck and two more around his shoulders in a vice grip that made it hard to breathe until Husk looped his free arm under Angel’s long legs and kept the other one tight and firm around his middle. Angel’s suffocating grip relaxed a bit and he heaved a heavy sigh of relief before once more trembling with a rich, hearty laughter so different from the one he used when he flirted. A real laughter.
“Ya just showing off now, ain't ya?” Angel half scolded, but the blissful shrieks marred any bite it might have held.
“Is it working?” Husk’s grin widened, not sure if he was feeling playful or impish or both.
“Maybe,” Angel drew out the syllables coquettishly and nuzzled his cheek against Husk’s head between his ears.
Both cursing and chuckling at the closeness their height difference provided, Husk lowered his arms, so Angel was at his eye level and tried very hard not to grin at the bewildered blink in those lovely pink and yellow eyes.
Key being tried .
“Can ya see better now?” he asked, his voice low and relaxed as thunder.
Angel blinked back what he refused to believe was a blush and glanced outward, then down. Bursting with the full force of his returning excitement, Angel absorbed the full multitude of the hellscape beneath him: the enormity of the city and its skyline, the multitude of blasting lights in all their bold colors, the microscopic sinners and the world beyond in one single swoop. “Holy shit! Wow! This is incredible! Amazing! I need more adjectives to describe how awesome this is!”
“Ha! You haven’t seen anything yet!” With that, Husk retracted his wings and with a mighty flap, brought Angel higher then dove into a roll that had Angel clinging tighter to him with a hoot of delight that morphed into laughter until Husk rolled back into a steady glide. His wings ached from the effort. Fuck, when was the last time he’d flown like this? But it was all worth it to see Angel smile that wide.
Relaxing his wings, he held Angel tight like a bride content to listen to Angel laugh and shriek and point out different things he saw with gusto.
“Husk! This is unbelievable!”Angel called out, overcome.The wind and wisps stripped away all the layers of stress and anxiety and expectation he’d worn like a beloved winter coat and all Angel could feel now was excitement, laughter, fun, freedom—and the warmth of Husk’s arms around him.
He felt...strangely content, dare he say it even happy? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ever felt like this. Like the entire world had melted away leaving only him and Husk and the world below.
This was what freedom felt like.
Somewhat humbled by that, Angel leaned into Husk’s chest, feeling the warm press of that soft, kitty fur and the heat of those firm muscles, and took in the sight of those brilliant red wings. The protective way those arms tightened around him made him feel safe and secure in a way he hadn’t felt since...Angel couldn’t even remember.
“You can see everything from up here!” Angel mused, wistfully. In that moment, he certainly felt like everything.
“Yeah,” Husk agreed,with a relaxed sigh. His half-lidded eyes never left Angel. “Everything.”
He glided the rest of the way back to the hotel, landing them gracefully on the roof, Angel still giggling.
“Wow! That was fun,” He chortled as Husk set him down. He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly nervous. The other three folded behind his back. “Uh...Thanks..for that, Husk. I...I really needed that.”
“Eh, it was nothing, Legs,” Husk said, but his warm smile betrayed the nonchalant tone. Angel forced himself not to flush at the nickname.
“I mean it, Husk!” Angel swallowed, choking back what might have been tears. “No one ever does shit like this for me. Ever.”
“Hey,” Something light and soft and feather-textured brushed Angel’s cheek and the tear that threatened to spill. Angel’s eyes popped open just in time to see Husk’s tail relax beside him. His face was serious but retained its earlier warmth. When those amber eyes locked on his practically glowing as he continued “You deserve to feel happy Angel. Even if it’s just with a little break.”
Angel could’ve cried. “Awe, Husky.” He wiped his eyes, unable to stop himself from smiling. “I’ll feel bad if ya don’t let me at least thank ya properly.” He tried to make it sound flirtatious and added a coquettish half-lidded gaze for effect but his smile was too bright as he stepped closer.
Husk fought down the rising heat in his chest, groaned and looked away, “Angel, I didn’t do this so you’d sleep with m—”
Whatever protest Husk had died in his throat the second those soft lips pressed to his cheek. It was soft, sweet, and entirely chaste and it sent all the blood in Husk’s body rushing to his frozen face. His entire body shut down: his eyes expanded almost out of his skull and the only thing still working was his heart which had gone into overdrive. His brain short-circuited then crashed completely when Angel pulled away, a sweet smile adorning those perfect white lips.
“Thank you,” Angel whispered again, leaving the stupefied feline to stare wide-eyed at his retreating back. Just as Angel opened the door, he turned around and blew him another kiss, “Night, Husky.”
Once the door shut with a resounding slam, Husk’s knees gave out. His ruffled wings fluttered, heart hammered like a hummingbird’s and continued to do so as he tenderly tapped the cheek where Angel’s kiss still lingered. The tingling sensation nearly made his brain crash all over again.
“Holy shit,” was all Husk could say.
On the other side of the door, Angel collapsed against the metal and took a long steading breath to ease his out-of-control heart that had not stopped hammering since he pressed his lips to Husk’s cheek. His entire body flushed hot and tingled with the aftermath of that action, and dammit all, if Angel didn’t feel like a schoolgirl whose longtime crush had just asked her to the prom, as utterly absurd as that sounded.
Still, he gently touched his fingers to his lips and felt a fuzzy warmth surge through him remembering the barcat’s fuzzy cheek.
“Holy shit,” was all Angel could say.