Chapter Text
When demons fall into Hell, the memories of the life they lived are fresh, as if their lives before had never stopped. But as the years go on, those memories begin to fade like photo negatives exposed to the sun. Soon, there’s very little of the human past they left behind.
Angel Dust could hardly remember most of his human life. Sure there were snippets, little moments from here and there. A playground. Gunfire. Complicated feelings towards his family; The Family. A kiss. Gentle hands playing with his hair. But most of it was fuzzy, like trying to remember a dream an hour after waking up.
Charlie had been doing her best to help Angel remember his life. She had it in her head that if she could see where Angel “went wrong” in life they could curb those issues in Hell. It was a laughable thought. There were flashes, sure, but 80 years of drugs makes it difficult to remember where you were last week, let alone where you were that long ago. It wasn’t that Angel didn’t want to remember his life. He just couldn’t bring himself to care about the fine details. He could remember how he got to Hell. He remembered the drugs pounding in his head before the nothingness.
Trying to force himself to remember anything else was about as useful as trying to catch smoke.
“I love you, Anthony, I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
Angel blinked awake. Another fuzzy dream. Another memory from a forgotten life… a very familiar sounding voice. At least this one wasn't his dad yelling at him.
He stretched his arms over his head, joints popping as he opened his phone to see what he missed while asleep. Nothing from Val, thank god, a few thirsty DMs from fans who thought they had a chance, and one message from Cherri.
He swiped his finger, opening the text to a picture of a little bag of white powder with a bow attached to it.
Cher Bear: Happy D-Day Bitch! Get over here when you’re conscious.
Grinning, Angel scooped Nuggets up into his arms from his small pile of blankets at the foot of his bed. He placed a smooch on the small pig’s head.
“Mornin’, baby. Ya wanna go see Auntie Cherri today?” He cooed, scratching behind Nuggets’ ear. The pig oinked in affirmation. Wiggling out of Angel’s grip, Nuggets trotted over to the closet where his harness and leash were, bringing them back to Angel as the spider laid out his outfit for the day.
Demons celebrated their Death Days in many different ways. For some it was a somber day of a life cut too short. For others it was a day to gripe for attention and gifts, replacing the human birthday they had long forgotten. For many it was a celebration of new found freedom in Hell.
But for Angel Dust it was an excuse to cut off work and get absolutely plastered with Cherri Bomb. Ever since she showed up in Hell it had been much more of a celebration. Before then… Well, before then Angel couldn’t help but always feel down. Hollow. Like something was missing.
Val had always half celebrated Angel's Death Day in his own way; said that it was the day he found his biggest star. The day his Angel Dust came home. Angel’s earliest solid memory was waking up and finding a purple hand reaching towards him. It hadn’t stopped that hollow feeling.
At least with Cherri they could celebrate the small freedoms they had in Hell. Being with a friend always made it better.
Strolling down the stairs with his nose stuck in his phone and one hand holding Nuggets’ leash, Angel hardly noticed Husk until he collided with the other’s shoulder. He dropped his phone with a clatter. Nuggets let out a startled squeal.
“Hey!”
Husk didn’t turn back. Didn’t make a snide comment. Fuck, he didn’t even smell like booze, despite the fact he was carrying a handle back towards his room. Angel blinked in confusion, picking his phone back up slowly. In the several months he had known Husk, the cat never ignored him so deliberately.
“Hey, Mighty Mite,” he called out to Niffty as he approached the reception desk. Angel jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “What’s the deal with Sour Puss? Someone piss in his liquor or somethin’?”
Niffty zipped from the lobby lounge to the bar, dusting quickly as she went. She paused briefly to scratch Nuggets’ head.
“Oh, Husker’s always in a bad mood on September 17th. I’m not sure why. He’s never told me,” she shrugged before pouncing on a bug that had dared enter her line of sight, “I’m sure he’ll be okay tomorrow.”
Angel listened as he signed himself out. It was unlikely that he and Husk had the same Death Day. Maybe the gruff bastard was just having a bad day in general. He shrugged.
“Whateva,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll be back after dinner. I’m gonna hang out with Cherri if anyone asks.” He knelt down a bit and clapped his lower hands twice, catching Nuggets as the pig jumped up into them, then made his way out into Pentagram City.
An hour later he was sitting with Cherri in some run-down, nearly abandoned park near the border of Imp City. It was more of a tetanus hazard than a park; monkey bars rusted over, jagged metal jutting out from where a bar had once been on the carousel, swings that creaked and threatened to give out if you so much as looked at them the wrong way. It was perfect. He and Cherri liked to come here when they needed to get out of the house and trip without worrying about some prying-eyed fucks bothering them.
Angel snorted down the line of PCP, tilting his head back to feel the familiar rush. It had been a long, long while since he’d done anything this hard. Between Valentino running him ragged and Charlie not allowing anything harder than weed in the hotel, he’d needed a day like this. Angel glanced over to Fat Nuggets with a smile. He’d attached Nuggets’ leash to the carousel; the tiny pig was running in circles, squealing happily.
“And then-” He said, remembering his train of thought as the drugs began to take over, “Then she kept tryin’ ta get me ta remember the shit from before I ODed. I mean… I barely fuckin’ remember that day, not ta mention anythin' before it!” he cut a line for Cherri, moving so she could take it, “Nosy bitch… like it’s actually gonna do me any good.”
“Do you actually remember that day or are you fucking with her?” Cherri took the rolled up bill and did a line, rubbing her temple as the drugs buzzed in her skull.
“Nah I remember enough of it,” He shrugged as he climbed up the jungle gym and sat on top of the monkey bars, “I remember bein’ alone, I remember feelin’ like shit. I remember fallin’ into this dump. Who cares?"
Angel hooked his legs into the metal bars and flipped over, his high mixing with the blood rushing to his head. He released the tension from his body as he let himself dangle upside down.
New York City June 1925
Eight year old Anthony Scavo let his arms dangle as he hung upside down from one of the rings on the playground. It was too hot to do much of anything else that day. Molly was with their mother doing the shopping and Nico said that he’d bother some of the older kids about getting one of the hydrants open. That was ages ago.
Brown eyes blinked open when he heard yelling coming from behind him and arched his back to see what was happening as best he could. Swinging back up, Anthony lowered himself to the ground carefully before rushing over to the commotion.
“Come on, Nico, hit him back!”
“Get him!”
Anthony pushed his way through the group of older children, all cheering and yelling at two kids scuffling on the ground. His dad frequently told both him and his brother to not bother with that kind of crap, especially when it was in the street. Italian boys handle their business behind closed doors. There was no need to bring others in.
Well that’s what he thought, anyway.
Until he saw a kid land a punch square across his brother’s face.
Anthony’s eyebrows shot straight up. No one hit their family. No one even looked at them the wrong way. Not once. Other kids in the neighborhood fought, but they usually left Nicholas and Anthony alone.
Anthony knew better than to fight his older brother. Not only did Nico have three years and four inches on him, but their dad had already started teaching him about the family business. He could punch harder than anyone Anthony had met, and he had the bruises on his arm to prove it.
But shockingly enough the kid was holding his own.
“Say it again!” The kid grabbed Nico by the collar of his shirt as he was still reeling from the punch, “I dare you!”
“I. Said-” Nico gritted out through clenched teeth, lip bleeding profusely. He grabbed the other boy and flipped them both over, raining punches on the kid’s face, “Stay. Off. My Street. You. Fuckin'. Mick!”
“Ay- Ay!” A sharp whistle caused Anthony to look up and duck out of the way quickly as his father, Enrico, and two of their older cousins ran across the street. Nico didn’t let up until Ricky forcefully scooped him up off the other kid.
Nico fought his father’s grip, the older cousins laughing as they pulled the other boy away from the scrap. It was then that Anthony got a good look at the boy. He was about as tall as Nico, once he was on his feet, black hair, and the brightest hazel eyes Anthony had ever seen, even as one was already swelling shut. His two cousins pushed the kid back when he made another lunge at Nico.
Ricky leaned down to be eye level with his older son. He lightly slapped him on the cheek to get his attention.
“Hey. How many times do I have to fuckin’ tell ya to keep your nose in your own business?”
“It ain’t my fault! Asshole’s talkin shit and I-”
Their father whistled again sharply, cutting his brother off.
“I don’t care who was talkin’ shit. You. Home. Now.” His father turned around to take a look at the scrapper who dared to mess with his kid, “And you-”
The black haired boy spat blood out on the ground in front of the man before pushing one of the hands off of his shoulder. Ricky stooped down to the kid’s eye level. Anthony blinked, astonished; he didn’t even flinch. Didn’t look afraid for a second. Was he really that brave? Was he really that stupid?
“You stay away from my kid and we won’t have a problem, you understand?”
The boy gave a singular nod and the cousin let him go with a rough shove. Their father grabbed Anthony by the scruff of his shirt, turning him around forcefully.
“Let’s go, Tony.”
Anthony glanced over his shoulder to see the kid forcefully flip off his father’s back and couldn’t help but let out a giggle.
“What’s so fuckin’ funny?”
“Nothin’ papa. Nothin’”
“Fuck!” Angel Dust felt his legs slip as he fell to the ground. It had been a while since he had done any PCP, sure, but he couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened. He’d never had hallucinations like that… of human life. Of his childhood. Of being alive.
“Yo, you okay?” Cherri called from the top of the jungle gym, swinging down to meet Angel on the ground.
Angel stared at the sharp gravel, one hand brushing through his hair again while the others twisted in the dirt. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, trying to separate reality from whatever the fuck that was. He felt Cherri’s hand on his shoulder and flinched immediately.
“Woah, shit, calm down it’s just me.” She sat on the gravel, watching Angel carefully, “You wanna lay down?”
Angel nodded, rolling over onto his back as he breathed. Cherri laid down on her back as well, letting her head rest right next to Angel’s.
“What the fuck was that?”
“I… I think I remembered somethin’.” He muttered, looking at the Pentagram in the sky.
Husk hadn’t been dead for nearly as long as Angel had. But with more life to remember, and mental scars of his own, the older memories had already faded and distorted. A cold sensation on his face. Bullets flying. A shuffle of cards. A kiss. Some dusty room with too much pain.
Husk tipped the handle of vodka up, drinking deeply. This day was always difficult for him, though he had long since forgotten why. It was a habit at this point more than anything. Alastor would quietly summon a bottle for him, pat him on the back, and let him have uninterrupted silence so Husk could stew in… whatever this feeling was.
He assumed for the past few years it was grief. He could remember losing someone important. But it had been years since he remembered exactly who that person was or what had happened to them. Husker knew the person’s name began with an A. That much he was sure of. But anything beyond that… it had been too long.
Husk rolled to sit on the edge of his bed, scratching the back of his head. Niffty hadn’t been in to clean his room yet this week. A courtesy both to her and himself. The last thing either of them wanted was for Niffty to sit down and scold him about the hygiene of his room. Everything at her eye level was a disaster.
Husk kicked a bottle cap away, watching it skitter across the floor before landing by the wall.
New York City June 1925
Nine year old Henry Casey kicked a bottle cap away from him and into the street, blinking at his shoes. He could already feel his eye beginning to swell shut. The guinea bastard could really throw a hit. His mom was going to be pissed at him for getting in another fight with the neighborhood kids so soon after moving. Back in Atlantic City, Henry could hold his own against anyone on his street. This was embarrassing.
He spat another mouthful of blood out onto the dirt when two very clean canvas shoes stepped into view.
“Hey.”
Henry looked up. It was the blonde boy from earlier. He was related to that Nico kid or something. Brown eyes blinked down at him, one more clouded over than the other.
“What?” It hardly sounded like a question, more like an accusation for something that hadn’t happened yet. The kid didn’t flinch at his tone, only holding out a bunched up kitchen towel.
“Your face is all messed up.”
Henry looked between the towel and the kid again, expecting to be jumped, or something along those lines.
“It’s ice. Ya put it on your face, stupid.”
“I know what ice is for, dumbass,” He snatched the towel, gingerly holding it to the bruise that was blossoming around his eye with a hiss, “Shit…”
The blonde kid sat next to him on the street, kicking a pebble out of the way. Henry’s shoulders tensed as the boy sat down. He hadn’t been in the neighborhood for very long, but after his earlier brush with the kid’s brother, Henry wasn’t about to take any additional chances.
“Ya punch real good,” The blonde kid said after a moment of silence.
“What?” Henry blinked, removing the towel from his face to look at the other.
“My brother, Nico, he’s got the best punch I’ve ever seen. People don’t usually mess with him. But ya lasted a lot longer than I thought you were gonna.” The kid got closer to look at Henry’s face, “It ain’t as bad as it probably feels. And hey, now I’m not the only one in the neighborhood wit’ a messed up eye,” The boy smiled, pointing to his own clouded over left eye.
Henry couldn’t help but smile weakly. It was the most that anyone had spoken to him since he moved into the neighborhood. Well, the most that anyone had spoken to him without throwing a punch. The blonde absolutely beamed.
“I’m Anthony, by the way. Anthony Scavo.”
“I’m Henry… Casey.”
Husker blinked, staring at the wall.
Anthony. Anthony Scavo.
That name sounded right. More right than any name he’d tossed around in the past.
He took another pull from the handle, squinting at the wall trying to see something that wasn’t there. If he stared hard enough maybe more pieces of forgotten moments would come through the fancy wallpaper and ease his sorrow-filled mind.
Angel Dust was still a little shaken when he made his way into the hotel. His high was wearing off but the haunting feeling of his memories had remained, like he had lived it yesterday. Nuggets stayed close to his side, looking up and oinking in confusion every now and then.
“You can’t just give people days off, Alastor!” Vaggie yelled at the Radio Demon as he stood in front of reception, crossing her arms angrily, “It’s not his day off today.”
Angel winced at the sudden sound of yelling. It was absolutely the last thing he needed right now. Leaving a wide berth around Vaggie, Alastor, and Charlie, he made his way to the lobby couch, flopping onto it with all the grace of a sledgehammer busting into a wall. He scrubbed a hand over his face as the images flashed through his brain again.
“I think you’ll find it is.” Alastor snapped his fingers, manifesting the work schedule in his claws. With another snap, Husk’s shift disappeared, “See? There you are.”
“Al, you need to tell us when you’re going to give someone a day off. We were really worried something had happened to Husk.” Charlie piped up, crossing her arms as well, “It’s not good to come downstairs and find our front of house man just… missing!”
“He isn’t missing in the slightest.” Alastor strolled behind the bar, “I’m perfectly capable of mixing drinks and ensuring the care of the reception this evening.”
“Alastor that’s not the point!”
“I fail to see exactly what your issue-”
“Oh my god, would ya three stop bickerin’ for five fuckin’ minutes?!” Angel yelled, sitting up on the couch. The others merely blinked at him. Angel rarely ever raised his voice like that at anyone in the hotel. Much less three of them at once.
Alastor was the first to tilt his head, that too wide grin splitting his face further.
“Ah, Angel Dust. Just the person I was hoping to see.” He said, ignoring the outburst, “I need to request a favor of you.”
“What kinda favor?” Angel asked suspiciously, looking him up and down, “I ain’t makin’ no fuckin’ deal with you, if that’s what you’re playin’ at. And I’m off the clock today.”
“That-” Alastor rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh, static grinding in the air, “I was never going to ask for something like that.” With a wave of his hand he summoned a tray of food to the coffee table, “I need you to take this up to Husker’s room. He has a bad habit of forgetting to eat on days like this.”
“I ain’t fuckin’ room service delivery,” Angel rubbed his temple, feeling his head throb. He could still hear his father scolding that kid, “Ask someone else-”
“Vagatha, Charlie and I have other matters to discuss and Niffty is quite busy cleaning up supper. Take. It.” Alastor’s voice edged on a warning, crackling feedback getting louder and then shifting suddenly to a jaunty tune, “I’m sure it’s much more quiet upstairs anyway.”
“Ugh, Fine...” Angel crossed his top set of arms, eyes narrowing, “If it’ll make you all shut up and leave me alone.”
The spider stood, his towering form seeming somehow smaller than normal. The exhaustion on his face was clear; everyone in the lobby could see that he needed space. Angel made his way up the stairs, leaving the awkward silence behind him as Nuggets followed. The tray of food clinked gently as he took two steps at a time, silverware shifting against china. It was odd that he was finding solace in the sounds of tableware, but honestly, he’d hyper-fixated on weirder things when coming down from past highs.
When Angel reached Husk’s door he felt slightly calmer. He could process his thoughts once he left the bitter old cat his dinner. Besides, knowing that he wasn’t the only one having a shit day was somehow helping, at least in a schadenfreude kind of way. He gave the door a few taps with his knuckles.
“Husky~ It’s room service.” Angel couldn’t help but purr the line out, finding humor in the obvious porno set up.
“Go. Away.” Husker groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. The last thing that he needed was someone like Angel bothering him while he was feeling like this. How many years had it been since he’d remembered that kid’s name, anyway? How many years had it been since he remembered that day at all? He took another swig, trying to push it down.
“Hey! C’mon old man! Al told me I had ta give this t’ya!” His foot tapped against the door, watching as it creaked open a bit. “I’m more concerned about Al bein’ pissed at me than you, so I’m comin’ in. Hope yer decent~”
Husk let out a low growl as he heard his door open. He was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, claw tapping at the side of his bottle. His jaw tightened as the light from the hallway seeped into his dark room. Shit, when had the sun gone down?
Angel peered inside. He’d never seen Husker’s room before, not that he ever really expected to. In all his flirting, Angel Dust never once anticipated it ending in Husk’s room, though he wouldn't lie about being into the idea. The cat laid atop a pristinely made bed, sheets drawn tight and tucked underneath the mattress, a singular pillow propped under his head. A deck of cards splayed out in a game of solitaire sat on the bedside table. He would have called the room neat, except for the disaster that was the floor. Booze bottles, empty snack bags and cigar stubs littered the wood, a still smoldering one laid half forgotten next to the nightstand.
“Yeesh, ya fuckin’ live like this?” Angel asked, kicking one of the many bottles across the floor out of the way, balancing the tray in his lower set of hands. Still, Husk laid there in silence, aside from the clinking of his claw against the bottle, “What, I don’t even get a hello? What the fuck is ya problem today anyway?”
Husk rubbed at his forehead. Angel’s voice usually didn’t bother him. It was more the things that he said. But for some reason, merely talking was setting his fur on end. It sounded too familiar. As if it wasn’t actually Angel speaking. As if his voice was taunting him.
Angel placed the tray down on a nearby table, eyeing the cat as he lay there, clearly wallowing in something .
“Aw, c’mon kitty cat. Don’t be such an ass.” Angel attempted to add some levity to his voice. Even in his own shit headspace, he couldn’t help but tease. He and Husk had a fun, dynamic back and forth going and it was easy for the spider to fall into.
Husker let out a controlled breath, “Kid. I am exactly three seconds away from hittin’ you in the head with this bottle. Get out of my fuckin’ room. Now.” He glared at the other demon.
“Lemme come join you in bed, we can be miserable togetha~” the spider prodded once again.
Husk’s grip tightened around the neck of the bottle. Sitting up quickly, he whipped the bottle forward. It wasn't aimed at Angel but it did get chucked in the same general direction, smashing against the wall by the door and shattering. Angel flinched, arms crossing over his face to shield himself. His heart was slamming in his ears the moment the bottle crashed against the wall.
“Get out!” Husk snarled at him. Angel lowered his arms, finally getting a better look at Husk. He was expecting an angry look, but all he saw was the sadness across the cat demon’s face; wide open and hurting. The spider couldn’t bring himself to say anything, leaving the room as quickly as he could. He slammed the door behind him.
As the door slammed behind the taller demon, Husk opened his mouth to say something. An apology? More yelling? What was the point? Instead he groaned and flopped back onto his bed, paws tangling in his hair as that feeling of grief only got worse.
Husk tolerated Angel Dust. Even on the kid’s particularly sun shiny, irritating days, he was at least pleasant to be around. He’d gotten used to the teasing and constant flirting. And usually, Angel knew when to stop.
There had been countless nights in the past few months where Angel would come back late looking like shit and far too quiet. But for some reason, he preferred to sit at Husk’s bar instead of his own room.
And Husker had just thrown a bottle at him.
The cat let out another frustrated groan. Angel hadn’t deserved that.
Outside the door, Angel lowered himself to the ground. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking slightly. He had annoyed Husk in the past but the cat never threw things at him, never did anything more than telling him to fuck off or get his shit together. And the way that Husk had just looked at him, well...he’d never seen him look like that before either. Slowly, Angel drew his legs to his chest, doing his best to calm himself. Nuggets put his trotters up on Angel’s lap, forcing himself under his lower arms.
Angel Dust didn’t notice Charlie rushing down the hall to him and jumped when she put a hand on his shoulder.
“Angel? Angel what happened?”
The spider’s head shot up, his senses still in fight or flight.
“Nothin’. I’m fine. Get offa me.” He pushed himself up quickly, scooping up Fat Nuggets and taking a few brisk strides to his room without another word. He shut and locked the door behind him, taking a moment to pet Nuggets to calm himself.
The day had been a rollercoaster. All Angel wanted was a joint to settle his mind, an orgasm to distract himself and a full 8 hours of not being conscious. But instead he laid curled up on his bed and replayed that childhood memory, over and over; every so often his mind shifting to that vulnerable look on Husk’s face.
It took Angel far longer to get out of bed the next day than he would care to admit. Sleeping in was one thing, but hiding in his room was another. Angel looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his hair for the tenth time that morning. Going downstairs meant that he would have to pass by Husk. After the night before, he wasn’t exactly eager for that to happen.
His phone buzzed with a client list from Valentino for the day. Four in a row followed by a couple scenes at the studio. Angel rolled his shoulders back a bit. Better to pull the bandage off quickly and get it over with.
As he opened the door, Nuggets took off, sprinting out of the room.
“Nuggs! Nuggets come back here!” Angel called out, chasing the pig down the hall. For as short as the pig’s legs were, the little bastard was fast. Angel Dust chased him down the stairs, freezing as he saw Nuggets slow to trot up to the bar. Trot up to Husk.
The lanky spider ducked behind one of the pillars in the lobby, pressing against it as he willed himself to become a shadow. He wasn’t very successful.
“Legs, I know you’re there,” Husker called out. Nuggets snorted in affirmation. Angel peeled himself away from the pillar, glaring at where Fat Nuggets was peaking around the bar.
“Traitor,” He muttered as he made his way closer “Sorry, he snuck out while I was tryin’ ta leave.” Angel rubbed the back of his neck, reaching down to pick Nuggets up. The last thing he wanted to do was get on Husk’s nerves. His cell pinged again, causing Angel to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Cautiously, he picked it up and read the message.
“Busy day?” Husk asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Somethin’ like that,” Angel tapped out a quick response to Valentino, holding Nuggets a bit closer to his body. Husk put down the glass he was cleaning with a sigh.
“Angel… Listen. I’m sorry for yesterday,” Husk put both hands on the bar, claw tapping against the wood. Surprised at the use of his name, Angel looked up, letting out a huff of a laugh.
“You? Sorry? I’m the one who kept pushin’ ya.”
“You push all the time. It wasn’t any different than usual. Me bein’ in a shit mood is no reason to throw a fuckin’ bottle at you,” His eyes flicked to Angel’s phone and then back up to the spider’s face, “I know you gotta deal with shit like that at work all the time. You sure as hell don’t need it here. You don’t need it from me.”
Angel felt his face heat up for a moment. No one paid attention to shit like that. At least, he thought no one did. Unless…
“What d'ya want?”
“What?” Husk gave Angel Dust a once over in confusion.
“What d'ya want? People don’t apologize ta me unless they fuckin’ want somethin'. So what d’ya want?” Angel gripped his phone in his hand, tense and cautious.
Husk tilted his head in quizzical contemplation, half squinting at the spider. He’d scared Angel last night, that much he knew. It had only added to his wallowing before he resolved to apologize today. But the only other time Husk had seen the spider demon with a similar look on his face was when he was on the phone with Valentino. Regret softened Husk as he looked Angel in the eye.
“I don’t want anythin’. I nearly took your head off-”
“Your aim ain’t that good.”
“The point, ” Husker said, shaking his head, “The point is, I owe you a drink. Okay?” the corner of Husk's lips pulled into a smile, hoping it would show Angel he wanted to make some sort of amends. As much amends as an old bastard like him could give, anyway.
Angel was shocked for a second but then gave the cat a small smile and a nod. There was something in Husk's voice...Angel couldn't explain it exactly, but it truly felt like his apology was sincere. Not just a bullshit "sorry" to make Angel forget until the next time something like this happened. There was real remorse behind Husk's tone and it made the spider take a step towards trusting him. He stepped closer to the bar to sign himself out.
“Okay. No well-grade shit though, yeah?”
“We’ll see,” Husk's smirk grew, looking at Fat Nuggets. He waved his paw as he turned around to readjust the bottles, “You can leave the pig.”
“Givin’ me a free drink and watchin’ my baby? You gettin’ soft on me, old man?” Angel felt a bit better as he felt the regular dynamic between him and Husk return. He set Nuggets down, watching as the pig happily squeaked his way behind the bar.
“You wish.” Husk snorted over his shoulder.
Angel bit his lip lightly, blushing as he turned around to head to work. For the first time since he’d had that memory flash in his mind, his body relaxed.
The day before had been a mess; it had sent his brain reeling in a million different directions. He’d come downstairs expecting to be bitched at again, another kick when he was low. The last thing he expected was for Husk to genuinely apologize, let alone smile at him. Angel’s heart did a small flip at the thought.
Maybe he didn’t fuck things up with Husk too badly after all.