Chapter Text
Chapter One: New York, New York
“Husker, my good man, I have a job for you.” Alastor smiled. Husk had always found the other man’s smile to be unnerving, but when it accompanied an order it was a guarantee Husk was being asked to do something truly unpleasant. Last time he’d been hauled into the office and smiled at like that he’d wound up scraping up some poor fool’s spilled brain from a shop floor. He sighed heavily, sitting down opposite his boss.
“What’s the job?” It wasn’t like he could refuse.
Lit by the red glow of his desk lamp, Alastor, in spite of being a scrawny looking thing, looked truly evil as he pushed a photograph across the desk for Husk to examine. He blinked, unsure what he was supposed to make of the young blond man in the photo. He was tall and thin, fairly fragile looking, with wispy blond hair, a bright smile, and mismatched eyes. For lack of his reading glasses, Husk squinted to check he had that right. Could be a trick of the light in the photo or the light in the office for that matter - why Alastor insisted on working by red lamplight was anyone’s guess.
“Who the hell’s this guy?” He asked, the face unfamiliar to him.
“Spider’s younger brother, Anthony.” Alastor informed him.
It took everything Husk had not to roll his eyes: Alastor would not appreciate it. Husk was sick and tired of hearing about the rivalry with Alastor and Marco D’Angelo - usually known as The Spider. It was a territorial pissing contest between two men who were clearly both too cowardly to fight each other directly.
“Rumour has it he’ll be at Vinnie’s Lounge tonight… I’d like you to send Spider a message.”
“You can’t just use the phone like a normal person?” Husk sighed heavily.
“Not that sort of message, Husker.” Alastor smiled. With elegance he slid open his desk drawer and pushed a gun across the immaculately polished table. Husk bristled.
“Hey, no, fuck that,” He growled, angry. “I didn’t sign up to kill anyone.” He argued.
“I’ll erase half your debt, as soon as it’s done.” Alastor chirped as an offer. Husk shook his head.
“No.” He said firmly. “You wanna send in the heavies and have me clean up your messes after, fine.” It wasn’t like he was a stranger to clean up crew duties, he knew exactly what Alastor and his cronies got up to and turned a blind eye - he didn’t ask questions, that wasn’t his business. But actively killing a civilian wasn’t in his wheelhouse.
“When you were at war, did you stop to take the moral high ground? Or did you shoot first and ask questions later to save your own backside?” Alastor asked coolly.
“War’s different.” Husk muttered, irritated. That he’d been a soldier once was a sore spot - quite literally sometimes, given the pains in his back he still suffered from his time over there. Alastor, however, liked sore spots. He enjoyed finding people’s weak points and poking at them.
“We’re at war,” Alastor said plainly “just on a smaller scale.”
“I’m not killin’ someone just coz he happens to be related to someone you’re pissed at.” Husk insisted.
“You’re under the illusion Anthony D’Angelo is innocent? His body count’s higher than Spider’s. He’s dangerous. He’s a threat, a drug dealer, links to known human traffickers, and you’re doing the world a favour by taking him out.” Alastor insisted, opting for a moral appeal.
Husk drummed his fingers on the desk. Half his debt being wiped out would put him significantly closer to escaping, to getting out of New York, away from Alastor, and back home to Vegas.
But at the cost of a human life? Even if he was crooked…
“No.” He decided.
“Sixty percent.” Alastor said decisively, nudging the gun toward his disgruntled employee. “The moral satisfaction of taking an untouchable murderer off the streets, and I’ll even throw in a bottle of that bourbon you like so much.” He smiled.
Husk grumbled and looked at the photograph again.
——
Vinnie’s Lounge, it turned out, was a total fucking dive, half hidden down a dingy little back alley. Husk had been hoping to blend in to a crowd, but given there were only three customers, a showgirl, and the bartender there other than himself, he stood out like a sore thumb. He was overdressed for one thing, in a suit.
Look like a fucking suicidal CEO he thought to himself every time he caught his own miserable reflection in the mirror above the bar.
The bartender, Vinnie, was a small, squirrelly looking man, barely five foot five, shy and awkward, with dark hair and tan skin. Definitely not his target. The old drunk in the corner was at least seventy - nothing like the lanky twenty-something he was after. Two men (neither of them blond) sat together at the foot of the stage, leering and heckling the woman on stage, who was singing a ballad.
She had a hell of a set of lungs on her, but Husk paid her no mind.
He sat and he drank, waiting for anyone to show up that matched the mark. Against his ankle, the gun felt hot and heavy. He wasn’t used to packing heat, and though he worried his nervousness was a neon light above his head announcing he was carrying, he doubted he was the only one in the joint who was. It seemed like the sort of shady place where people got shot just because it was Tuesday.
The phone Alastor had sent him out with was ancient, and it took him far too long to figure out how to get it to send a text message.
Nothing yet
He got no reply.
“You’re new.” Purred a voice and Husk jumped, slightly surprised to be addressed. He whirled in his seat to find the show girl had hopped down from the stage to make nice with the bartender, and she was clearly surprised to see a new face among the patrons. “Heya Vinnie, can I get a Tia Rose?” She asked sweetly, settling herself onto the stool next to Husk.
He was on a job.
Really ought to be paying attention.
But damn, he was only human.
The singer’s legs went on for miles, disappearing under a milkshake-pink sparkly dress that left very little to the imagination in regards to her cleavage, the cut so low it showed off her black bra. Husk swallowed hard.
“What brings ya to this dive, handsome?” She asked. It took Husk a moment too long to realise she was talking to him.
“Hey.” Vinnie protested.
“Oh I’m real sorry, Vin,” she rolled her eyes “you musta misheard me over the heavin’ crowd we got in here tonight, I asked what brings him to our fine establishment this evenin’.” She teased. Vinnie gave her the finger but set a layered drink in front of her, an opaque pink cream liqueur on the bottom and dark clear liquid on top.
“Just passin’ through.” Husk murmured, temporarily distracted by the gravity drink. It looked sweet as sin, and he had no clue how anyone drank that shit. She stuck out a gloved hand.
“I’m Angel. You got a name, gorgeous?” Husk did not miss the way her eyes roved his body in what he assumed was a mirror of the way his had done with her. He felt his cheeks heating a little.
“Husk.” He grunted.
“That ain’t a name.” She huffed.
“And Angel is?”
“… fair point.” She giggled. “Gotta be careful on stage, these guys get real stalkery real quick if I ain’t careful.” She sipped at her drink and eyed his, nearly empty. “Can I top you up?” She wondered. Husk frowned - he probably shouldn’t, on the job.
“Now, I ain’t a native New Yorker so you’ll have to forgive me here… but where I come from it’s the guy who buys the lady a drink.” He pointed out, in a way he hoped was more smooth than sidestepping.
Angel cackled, her pink heel sliding forward to trail the length of his right inside leg. Husk’s breath caught in his throat. Oh she was definitely interested.
“Lucky for you, I’m no lady.” She purred, her blue eyes widening a little, as though she too were surprised by her own forwardness “Vinnie, can I get another of whatever he’s drinkin’?”
I’m no lady.
Husk knew full well she could mean she was on the wilder side of things, but looking at her he suddenly wasn’t so sure she hadn’t meant it literally. While tall and thin, her shoulders were slightly broader than he’d expect, and her hands and feet were perhaps a little larger than he’d have anticipated. Definitely not a tell either way, but two things occurred to Husk in that moment: it was entirely possible Angel was a very convincing drag queen, and it was also entirely possible she was the man he’d been sent to kill.
Being a D’Angelo heir could explain the stage name.
Her eyes were the same vivid shade of blue as the clear one in the photo (if he assumed the darker looking eye had in fact been a trick of the light). About the right height, factoring in the heels. Same delicate face, although it was caked in make up which made it harder to tell. The pale eyebrows suggested she was a natural blonde, but the long blonde hair tipped with pink could definitely be a wig.
“Thanks…” he mumbled, accepting the drink. “Hell of a show you’ve been puttin’ on.” He complimented, half wishing he’d paid more attention to it, and she smiled sweetly.
“Thank you, darlin’. I’m here until midnight, just takin’ a quick recharge.” She gestured at her own drink. “I assume you’re stickin’ around?”
“Yeah…” Husk agreed, nodding slowly. As she stood, she trailed her fingertips along the back of his shoulder blades very deliberately before she made her way back to the stage.
——-
“We’ve got a problem.” Husk hissed into the phone. The bathroom was completely empty, given the pitiful amount of patrons were still in the bar, but even speaking quietly his voice echoed, so he’d waited for a raunchier, louder number from the singer to ensure privacy.
“What’s the problem?” He heard Alastor’s voice crackle through the handset, trying to tune out Angel’s spirited rendition of The Life Of The Party from the next room.
“I think I’ve found him… but he’s a she.”
“A… she?” Alastor was clearly confused.
“The bar singer, she fits the bill but… I genuinely can’t tell if she’s a drag act.” He admitted. He’d listened to her a while, but her tone gave nothing away.
“How can you not tell?” Alastor sighed heavily.
“Put it this way, if I wore a dress an’ a wig I’d really fuckin’ obviously still be a guy,” with his build and his beard, it would hardly be a secret “but if someone threw a sparkly outfit on you, I’d hafta check your driver’s license.” He explained, hoping that gave enough context.
“Anthony D’Angelo has a twin sister. Is it possible she’s the singer?” Alastor wondered, concerned his informant had been mistaken.
“It’s possible.”
“Then for god’s sake do not shoot until you’re sure. By all accounts that girl is an angel and if we take her out it’s suicide, the whole family will come after us.” Alastor insisted.
“Angel… funny. That’s the singer’s stage name.” Husk muttered.
“Ugh. Wordplay.” Alastor said distastefully, leave it to the D’Angelos to lower the collective intelligence with wordplay. “Find out which twin you’re dealing with.”
“And just how do you expect me to do that, you want me to lurk around in the gents bathroom all night to see if she stands up to whizz?” Husk said sarcastically.
“Husk, even I know there’s more than one way to get a woman out of her dress.” Alastor said exasperatedly.
Husk cringed.
“You want me to seduce him… her?” He paused, unsure which pronoun he was supposed to use.
“Where’s the harm, you have no particular preference in that department. If she’s Molly D’Angelo, have your fun and abort mission, no harm done. If he’s Anthony, have your fun and then end him.” Alastor said bluntly. “And don’t call me until it’s done.” He snapped, hanging up. Husk glowered at his phone.
—————
He had a Tia Rose waiting for her by her next break at 10pm, and Angel beamed.
“For me?” She asked brightly, she glanced at Vinnie who nodded in confirmation that it was safe, he always kept an eye on her drinks. Reassured it wasn’t spiked she returned her attention to Husk. “Thanks, sugar.” Husk just felt sleazy.
“What’s a girl like you doin’ in a joint like this?” He asked her quietly, aiming to avoid the bartender overhearing and taking offence. Angel smiled sadly.
“The hours are shit but the money’s good - covers my rent.” She shrugged.
Red flag.
Any D’Angelo heir would be rolling in it, surely. There was a small chance he’d got the mark entirely wrong. Of course it could just be a front and she did her actual shady deals in the back room… sang because she was bored or because it gave her a cover.
She sipped at her drink and batted her lashes.
“You married?” She asked him after a long moment of staring at him. Husk shook his head, holding up his left hand to show the absence of a wedding ring. “Good. Mosta the guys who buy me drinks here are married. I don’t much like playin’ the other woman.” She let her heel trail up his left inside leg this time going higher than she’d dared to earlier.
Husk hummed softly at the sensation, her shoe rubbing against his thigh leaving no mystery to her intention.
“Got any requests?” She asked. Husk raised an eyebrow. “For songs, ya perve.” She chided. Husk laughed softly, shaking his head. He wanted to be clever, to pluck a name from the radio that was famous for her high notes, and see if Angel could reach them. As it stood he drew a total blank, cursing his tendency to tune out the radio just to annoy Alastor.
“You’re too young to have heard any of the crap I listen to, you sing what you want, sweetheart.”
“Oh I will, honey, I will.” Again, as she stood, she left him with a lingering dance of her fingertips across his skin - the small of his back this time.
By her third overtly sexual song in a row, in which her blue eyes never once left him, Husk wasn’t so sure he was the one doing the seducing after all.
——
The back alley behind Vinnie’s Lounge was a dingy little side street, barely wide enough to fit the dumpster. Questionable stains splattered the brick walls and cement, and the smell of piss and cigarette ends was almost overwhelming, but Husk couldn’t pay any of it much attention when Angel’s hands were in his hair and her tongue was down his throat. He held her hips as she shoved him against the wall, rolling his own to meet her but her height her meant he was grinding against her thigh.
“Ya wanna do this here?” She offered, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t mind.” Husk licked his bottom lip. He really did. He wanted to reverse the situation, to have her against the wall and go down on her, there and then, but a glance down at the floor told him he’d probably be kneeling in all sorts of unspeakable things.
When he didn’t answer, Angel seemed surprised. Still, she smiled, her hand sliding down to cup him through his slacks. Husk let his eyes flutter closed.
“Wanna go back to my place?” She suggested. “It ain’t much, but I got a bed…”
————-
She’d been right about her apartment. The run down building was in the seediest neighbourhood Husk had ever seen, and they had to step over two addicts passed out in the footwell while climbing the stairway. Still, he couldn’t help but marvel in the way she held one of his hands and trailed her other over the peeling paintwork, gliding along as though she were the protagonist in a Disney Princess movie.
The door opened into her very pink bedroom, and beyond it he could just see a kitchenette with a broken door, and a bathroom the size of a postage stamp.
“Home sweet home.” She said brightly, locking the door behind her. The moment they were secure, she was on him again. This time though, each kiss was followed by a bang as they knocked into walls and doors and Angel’s desk, pawing at each other in their hasty dance toward the bed.
Husk knew his tolerance for alcohol was far higher than he’d actually had, but kissing her he felt more drunk than ever. Dizzied by each frenzied meeting of their lips. Better than booze. Better than any drug.
He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d lost control of the situation, but Husk was hardly complaining as Angel pushed him backward on to the very pink bed, a smirk on her painted lips. Her lipstick had not budged an inch in spite of them locking lips like horny teenagers the moment they were unchaperoned. By his own moral code he was supposed to be checking under her skirt and nothing more - but the temptation was running wild.
“Now you look like a man who likes things kinky.” Angel mewled, looking down on him like she was about to devour him whole. Husk wasn’t sure he’d ever heard a statement so far from the truth, he was old enough to be her father, his back was already creaking in protest of banging into the door and in his own opinion he was well past his best - hardly the sex god she seemed to believe him to be. In spite of it, Husk’s cock was swollen in his pants, desperate for more of the fierce kissing that had left him so dizzy.
“Got the wrong guy there, sweetheart.” Husk purred.
Angel hummed and bent over to rifle through her bedside table. With the skirt stretching taut over her ass Husk couldn’t help but stare.
Christ, this girl… (guy?) is gonna be the death of me.
She produced a pair of silver handcuffs and dangled them from a long, painted fingernail, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow in suggestion. For some reason, laid out on her pink bed, in her pink room, beneath her pink lights, Husk had been expecting pink restraints, the kind with the fluffy wrist cushions.
“I wanna cuff ya, and ride ya til you’re screamin’ my name.” She whispered, her blue eyes darkening and her voice dropping an octave. Husk swallowed hard.
“Think I’m more of the tier-up than the tied, baby.” He said pointedly.
“Can’t. I get claustrophobic… it’s a pity, I like doin’ all the hard work.” She pouted, setting the cuffs aside delicately. “Don’t matter, baby, we can play without ‘em…” she promised, but her expression clearly showed her disappointment.
Husk weighed up his options. He still couldn’t make his mind up on the target’s sex. It didn’t matter in the bedroom, but for the job it was vital. In his head there was a completely equal chance this man was either his mark or she was his twin sister. Either way he should probably not be fucking her. He doubted he had the stomach to kill someone in cold blood at all, nevermind in the afterglow.
But it had been a long damn time. And Alastor was the one who had suggested seduction… he could always lie. If Angel was in fact an Anthony, he could slip out of there after the fact and just tell Alastor it had been Molly on stage?
“You can cuff me.” He decided. Angel’s face lit up, and she kneeled on the bed next to him.
“Ya sure? I don’t wanna cross any lines…” she said sweetly, but her arousal was obvious in the way she bit her lip.
“Cuff me before I change my mind, sweetheart.” He murmured, eyes dark. She leaned over him, granting him a faceful of cleavage and he groaned softly into it, regretting agreeing to the handcuffs immediately. He wanted to touch. He didn’t give a shit whether they were fake.
When his hands were fastened above his head, Angel tested the cuffs with her fingers, carefully ensuring he had enough give in the bracelets that they weren’t going to cut him or compromise his circulation and then she sat back on her heels, looking him over.
“Mmm, you are gorgeous.” She praised, peppering each word with a kiss along his jaw. Husk practically choked on a laugh. He was nothing special.
“Looked in a mirror lately?” He asked her, nodding his head at her appreciatively.
“I have.” She smiled, licking a stripe along the side of his throat. Husk couldn’t breathe. He’d known she’d be a tease and was suddenly struck with the notion she could do that all night if she pleased, lick every inch of him. He shivered. “And I know I look damn good… but there’s a big difference between you and me, Husk.” She whispered, her lips against his ear. She nipped gently at the sensitive skin there, one hand trailing down his chest and the other sliding up her own dress.
“And what’s that?” He wondered - if he’d been able to think he’d probably have thought of several. As it stood his brains were liquifying with Angel’s wandering hands.
“See I… ain’t stupid enough to get tied up in this situation.” She murmured, and seconds later he found a gun pressed to his temple, and an angelic face hovering above his own, smiling.
Fuck.
She really was going to be the death of him.
“Valentino’s sendin’ hitmen after me now?” She asked, sounding more amused than offended.
Husk felt his blood run cold, he had no idea who Valentino was but he’d been rumbled all the same. Angel was totally right: he was an idiot. Driven by his desire, he was tied up and completely at her mercy, and regardless of whether she had a dick tucked away in there, she’d apparently had a gun of her own hidden somewhere under that dress. Husk closed his eyes, accepting that he’d lost.
“Make it quick?” He whispered.
“Oh no, daddy, you and me we’re gonna talk a while.” She said decisively. “This next part’s a little undignified, sorry hon.” Her hands began to wander, patting Husk down carefully, she zeroed in on the gun strapped to his ankle pretty quickly, and found a phone in his pocket during her search. An ancient device that didn’t even seem capable of the internet nevermind GPS. Good. She carefully set them aside and stepped to the edge of the bed, keeping the gun trained on his head.
“Why didn’t you just shoot me on stage?” She wondered. “Or at the club? On the way home? I clocked that pistol on your ankle real early on and I’ve been waiting for you to whip it out all night… then ya seemed more interested in getting into my bed than killin’ me so I figure Valentino musta told you I was easy? That you’d get a good lay out of the deal? Seems exactly like his sorta shit.”
“I don’t know who the fuck Valentino is.” Husk said honestly, opening his eyes very cautiously. Somehow, standing there with a gun aimed at him, she was impossibly more attractive. He wondered what that said about him that his type was can and probably will kill me.
“Liar.” She tossed out the word casually. “Why else wouldn’t you have taken me out in the back alley behind the bar?” She asked. Husk sighed softly.
“Honestly? I didn’t shoot you because I ain’t entirely sure yet whether you’re my mark or not.” He admitted, seeing no point in lying.
“Seriously?” Angel laughed, quirking an eyebrow. “What is this: your first day on the job? Ya don’t even know who you’re lookin’ for?”
“Yeah actually, and apparently the D’angelos are twins. Needed to know what you got goin’ on under that dress to know which one you are before I shoot. So before you off me you wanna put me out of my misery - which one are you?” He asked, curiously.
Something strange had happened to Angel’s face at that, her surprisingly calm features twisting into something angry and genuinely terrifying.
“I want you to think real fuckin’ carefully about your next answer.” She instructed, cocking the gun in warning. “Which twin were ya sent to kill? Because if ya were after me we got no problem here - ya tried and ya failed, sucks for you but ya can walk outta here with your life and give Valentino a kiss and tell him to go to hell from me. But I’m real fuckin’ protective of my family.” She said coldly.
“So which twin were you after?” She demanded.
A gamble.
Husk generally liked gambling but admittedly his life wasn’t usually on the line.
If he flipped the coin and guessed at which twin he was talking to and got it right, he was safe. If he guessed wrong he was a dead man. Fifty fifty.
The other option was to just tell the truth and hope it was the right answer.
He’d waited too long to make a decision though and Angel had moved the aim for her gun, pointing it directly between his legs and making it clear it would be a slow and painful death if she didn’t like his answer.
“Which twin?!” She growled.
“Anthony.” Husk whispered. “I was sent after Anthony D’Angelo.”
Angel hesitated, watching him. Then, quick as lightning she was back against him, and had two fingers under his chin, tilting his face from side to side, analysing his response. Husk was afraid, that much was obvious. He was also still incredibly turned on - apparently attracted to the danger. Angel hummed softly, a curious combination but one she could work with.
“You’re lucky.” Angel whispered, dropping the touch. “You got an honest face. I believe ya.”
Angel moved away again, and raised her hand, slipping off her long blonde and pink tipped wig to reveal a much shorter, wispier blond hairdo. Anthony D’Angelo, apparently. Husk sighed with relief.
Thank fuck for that.
“Mind if I smoke, baby?” Anthony asked calmly, setting the safety back on the gun and laying it on his make up desk.
“I’m hardly in any position to be makin’ demands.” Husk pointed out. Anthony shrugged.
“This sucks, y’know. I really liked that gig, was quiet.” Anthony lamented, producing a pack of cigarettes from his bedside table and a lighter. He sparked up, sitting on the edge of his bed beside Husk who stiffened - expecting to be burned. Anthony just sighed.
“Ya can relax, sweetheart, didn’t ya read my brief? I don’t kill unless I hafta. If ya were targetting Molly I’d’ve ended ya there and then, coz nobody threatens her on my watch.” Ah, Alastor had been right about that much then “But Valentino sending an incompetent hitman my way… ain’t your fault. You were just followin’ your orders. Wanna drag?” Anthony offered, nodding at his cigarette.
Husk hesitated.
This seemed like a trick.
Still, he didn’t have much to lose.
“Sure.” He murmured. As his hands were still bound, Anthony held the cigarette out and set the end against Husk’s lips. He drew carefully, inhaling slowly and exhaling only when Anthony moved the cigarette away. He repeated the action several times, delicately permitting to Husk have his fair share before he returned to smoking it.
“I can’t stay here if he knows where I am, so I’ll pack my shit and call Valentino from your phone to have him come collect you.” Anthony said gently.
“I’m not shitting you when I say I dunno who the hell Valentino is.” Husk told him.
Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“Anonymous donor, arranged online?” He guessed. Husk shook his head. “Tall guy, bald, wears a real stupid hat.”
“No.” Husk said honestly. Anthony blinked: convinced he was telling the truth but not sure why.
“Then who sent ya?” He asked, confused.
“More’n my life’s worth to tell you.” Husk admitted. Anthony nodded slowly.
“So what… you planned on gettin’ your hands on me and killin’ me as soon as you were sure I had a dick? Or would you have fucked me first and killed me durin’ pillowtalk?” Anthony asked - but he didn’t sound at all angry, just curious.
Husk had never been more fascinated. Anthony’s life had, in Anthony’s opinion, never been in serious danger. He’d figured the game out long before he’d clipped the handcuffs closed.
“Dunno. I’ve been sort of winging it since we left the club.” Husk admitted. Angel laughed.
“Ain’t much of a hitman are ya? Are ya even into guys?”
“This is my first hit, I’m normally just on clean up. And the other thing… I don’t care.” Husk confessed. “Guys, girls…”.
“Mmm… fair enough. Shoulda fucked me first. I’m a great lay.” Anthony smiled, finishing his cigarette and stubbing it out into an ashtray on his bedside.
He began moving around his room, collecting essentials and throwing them into a bag.
“I hate to not-love-ya and leave ya but if I untie ya, you’ll probably try shoot me and that sorta puts a dampener on the whole evenin’.” Anthony beamed, grabbing Husk’s phone. “I take it this is a burner with only your boss’s contact on it?” He assumed - there was no excuse for anyone to be carrying around a device so ancient in this day and age unless it was a burner.
“Don’t.” Husk begged. Anthony raised an eyebrow.
“Nobody knows I’m here so nobody’s gonna check this place out. If I just leave ya here you’ll starve to death long before anyone finds ya.” Anthony explained as though it were obvious.
“And if you call Alastor and tell him I failed he’ll do a lot worse than kill me.” Husk growled, panic in his tone. Anthony blinked, staring at the phone in his hand as though it were a bomb.
“Oh?”
“Shoot me.” Husk ordered. “Just kill me and make it quick. It’ll be better than what that psychopath’s got in store for me.”
That Husk was so willing to die rather than face the wrath of his boss rattled something in Anthony’s brain as he mulled over his options.
“Does he have somethin’ on ya?” Anthony asked carefully. “He got someone ya love hostage or somethin’?”
“No, nobody’s gonna miss me. Plain and simple I do his dirty work coz I owe him money.” Husk growled. Anthony nodded slowly.
“And this Alastor guy…” Husk realised he’d let the name slip and winced. He was fucked. “He wanted me dead coz I’m a D’Angelo, not because of the Valentino stuff?” He questioned. Husk sighed heavily.
“Look man, all I know is he’s got beef with your brother.” Husk tried to shrug but the handcuffs made it impossible.
“Hm…”
Deciding on a course of action, Anthony crossed to his wardrobe and began to undress.
“Am I supposed to be closin’ my eyes here?” Husk asked lazily from his position tied to the bed.
“Stare all ya want, perve, I got an errand to run.” Anthony hummed, shedding his clothes in spite of his audience. He tossed the bra, the dress, and undid his tuck when he abandoned his underwear, letting Husk get a good long look. He revelled in the attention of the soft purr of approval Husk gave before he redressed in dark pants and a black t shirt.
“I gotta go do a job, I’ll be a couple o’ hours. I’m leavin’ all my shit here so ya know I’m comin’ back, okay?” He gestured at his full duffel bag by the door. “In this area screamin’ for help’s no good, okay? The buildin’s full o’ junkies and lost causes who’d sooner rob the place than help. Ya can’t get outta those handcuffs without loppin’ off a limb and I’d really rather ya didn’t bleed all over my bedspread, it’s a bitch to clean up. So I’m gonna need you to stay put, got it, sweetheart? I’ll be back.” Anthony swore, pulling on a pair of black running shoes.
“Where the hell are you goin’?” Husk wondered aloud.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Anthony said brightly, taking both guns and Husk’s phone and tossing them into a backpack. He kneeled on the edge of the bed and assessed the captive. “If I pull this off we both get outta this alive, s’the best I can offer ya.” He said softly, placing a kiss to Husk’s cheek before smacking it lightly. “Try get some sleep, I gotta go slaughter a lamb.”
“…I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
And without any more said on the subject, Anthony left with the backpack, locking the door behind him.
—————-
“How the fuck…” Husk whispered, fascinated when Anthony returned, the sky outside the apartment window indicating it was just before dawn. “Are you three times hotter when covered in blood?”
“Only three?” Anthony smiled, then realised he was serious. “Christ, I knew you’d be into the kinky shit but you really are messed up, ain’t ya?” Anthony laughed, locking the door behind him and beginning to strip out of his bloody clothes.
“And nobody fuckin’ stopped you? You generally go walkin’ the streets lookin’ like you were in a massacre?”
“Cops don’t come round this area unless they’re dealin’. And nobody’s gonna fuck with a blood covered twink who looks like he’d slit their throat for askin’.” Anthony tossed his bloody t shirt into a corner, and began unzipping his pants.
He thrived on the hard stare he got from his captive.
“I got lamb’s blood in my hair so I’m gonna jump in the shower, I’ll leave the door open - feel free to watch if ya wanna.” Anthony teased, throwing open the bathroom door and abandoning his pants. He didn’t bother looking back over his shoulder as he cleaned off, but was fairly certain the hitman was still watching. He took a little extra time soaping his hair and drying himself off, just in case.
Anthony didn’t bother to redress, and used the towel to fluff his hair instead of covering his modesty when he returned to the bedroom, where Husk was laid, awaiting his fate.
“I called your boss.” Anthony told him, apparently unashamed of his own nudity. Husk grimaced. Alastor knew...
“Great.”
“Told him who I was, said you’d gone down on me in the back alley behind the club and when ya reached for your gun, I was quicker. Said I’d killed you. I left your phone and your gun, and spread a bunch of lamb’s blood and brain around - figure if he has a clean up crew he won’t check it, and will just get rid. As far as this Alastor fella’s concerned, you’re a dead man.” Anthony beamed. Husk blinked slowly.
“So…” he began carefully.
“You’re off the hook, baby. Can’t get money from a dead guy. No more clean up jobs if you don’t wanna…” Anthony shrugged. Husk only frowned. Out of the frying pan…
“So what, I’m your bitch now ‘steada his?” He demanded. Anthony pretended to mull it over for a moment, then shook his head.
“Mmmm…. As much as I fuckin’ love the idea of takin’ ya for a spin… nah. I’m lettin’ ya go.” He promised. “Soon. Let me have a little fun first, I ain’t used to bein’ the one with all the power in the bedroom.” Anthony smiled, finishing drying his hair and finally tying the towel lazily around his waist.
“Smoke?” He offered.
“Hell of a lot easier to smoke if you untie me.” Husk pointed out. Anthony sighed.
“Yeah, it probably is but hand to hand, let’s be honest, which of us is stronger, hm? I’m under no illusions o’ my size, here. I got the height but you got the broad shoulders and all - you tackle, me I go down. I ain’t entirely sure you’ll let me live yet so… I’d rather wait til I’ve got my pants on and a gun handy before I untie ya.” Anthony reasoned. Fair point.
“If I’m not under Alastor’s orders any more I got no reason to off ya, and given my gun’s lyin’ in a back alley somewhere… besides I got a bad back.” Husk pointed out and Anthony laughed, he really was a terrible hitman. “You’re safe.” Husk promised. “Besides you just faked my death so I owe ya.”
“True…” Anthony mused for a long moment then shook his head. “Later.” He grabbed his cigarettes and lighter.
“So how’d you end up a reluctant hitman?” Anthony wondered, sitting beside him as he lit the end.
“Debt. Gambling. Shit happens.” Husk murmured, silenced when the filter of the shared cigarette touched his lips, Anthony gently helping him smoke.
“Sold your soul, huh?” Anthony smiled. He only gave Husk a single drag before taking a puff himself and passing it back. “I can relate.” He exhaled heavily, grey smoke curling around in the air and billowing at the ceiling.
“How many people are tryin’ to kill you?” Husk wondered between alternating draws on the cigarette.
“Mmm… well this Alastor guy’s a new face in the game, I’ve never even heard o’ him. So there’s him, Val, and if my father ever finds out I prance around in a dress an’ heels for a livin’, I guess him an’ Marco’d wanna put a bullet in me too, soooo… four. Hey, I’m a popular guy.” Anthony grinned, apparently quite pleased with himself for having a whole list of people who wanted him dead.
“How the hell’s a top level mafia bosses kid wind up doin’ drag in dive bars?” Husk wondered.
“In case you ain’t noticed, honey - I’m very gay.” Anthony shrugged, feeling the delightful burn of smoke in his lungs. “And I enjoy gettin’ high as much as the next guy but I ain’t big on the whole dealin’ an’ guns an’ murderin’ thing the rest o’ my family do. Neither is Molly. She fits in just enough to stay close coz she’s a total sweetheart. Me? I’m kinda a bitch, so I got outta that shit as soon as I could. I don’t wanna sell guns and whack morons who ain’t paid their bills, I just wanna look pretty and sing songs.” Anthony sighed, shrugging.
“Gotta find a new place to do that now, as this Alastor knows where I am and apparently he don’t like me much.” Anthony looked miserable as he said it but then he laughed softly, shaking his head.
“S’funny that he thinks he can hurt Marco by comin’ after me, when Marco’d sell me to the highest bidder if it meant keepin’ my shit private.” He rolled his eyes and it was only then Husk noticed it.
“Your eyes don’t match.” He coughed on his inhalation as he said it. Sure enough Anthony’s vivid blue eyes were now no longer a vivid blue, one was, but his left eye was a deep dark brown, like it had been in the photo.
“Mmmhm.” Anthony delicately touched his own left cheek “Yeah, I took my contact out in the shower. The freaky eye thing’s a dead giveaway when I’m tryin’ to lay low.”
“S’cute.” Husk said gently. Anthony chuckled, nodding.
“How’d you know I was a hitman?” Husk wondered.
“I wanna say I’m secretly a genius an’ figured ya out the minute I saw ya because nobody wears a suit to Vinnie’s, and nobody’s just passin’ through either, given it’s a hideaway, but honestly? I ain’t that bright. I just felt your gun when I ran my foot up ya leg that first time. Nobody casually carryin’ straps it to their ankle so… I spent the rest of the night checkin’ for more.” Suddenly all of Angel’s sweeping touches made a lot more sense. She’d been testing areas people usually concealed weapons, to know what she was up against. “Worked in my favour, as it got ya all riled.” Anthony teased.
“Definitely did.” Husk whispered, accepting he’d been bested.
“Okay, well I think we’re done here.” He stubbed out the dying ember of the cigarette and climbed off the bed, locating clothes.
“Ain’t the shy type, are ya?” Husk commented absently, given how often Anthony had stripped naked in his presence in the few short hours they’d known each other. Anthony gave a wicked grin and shook his head.
“Hey, I may not be a lady but I am a gentleman, I ain’t forcin’ ya to look.” He pulled on an oversized pink jumper and some shorts from his duffel bag.
“I take it you won’t be announcin’ my location to anyone? I can’t go back to work coz that Alastor character knows I’m there, but here’s safe, so long as you keep your trap shut.” In truth Anthony had no intention of staying put, but he thought it best to let Husk believe he had time to finish the job.
“Secret’s safe with me.” Husk agreed. The funny thing was, Anthony believed him. He’d still be moving on first thing tomorrow.
“Good coz I coulda killed ya like six times tonight and chose not to, it’s the least ya owe me.” He said firmly, reminding the hitman he was only alive due to Anthony’s generosity.
Fully dressed, Anthony recovered the key, and then he straddled Husk’s hips, climbing atop him and looking down almost playfully. Husk just raised an eyebrow.
“I like ya like this.” He teased, but made to unlock the cuffs all the same. “It’s a shame ya were trying to kill me - we coulda had a lot of fun together, you an’ me.” He whispered, tossing the handcuffs aside and pocketing the key. Released, Husk slowly moved his aching arms down - Anthony took his hands and examined his wrists carefully. Clearly Husk had rested his weight a little heavier on one side as his right wrist was indented with a deep mark.
“A little sore, but you’ll live.” Anthony lowered his face and gently kissed the wound. Despite being free, Husk made no motion to sweep Anthony off of him and escape, he just lay there, staring at the softness in the blond’s odd eyes.
The man was a mob boss who wore pink sparkly dresses and high heels. He spared the lives of those he felt deserved to live, and brutally murdered those who he didn’t. He faked murders with (presumably stolen) livestock. He kissed wounds.
He was a walking contradiction.
Husk couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the soft touches, the delicate reverence with which Anthony was assessing the injuries he’d caused, was the real him. When Anthony finally let go of his hands, Husk set them on Anthony’s hips. Anthony laughed.
“You were gonna shoot me in the skull a few hours ago and ya still wanna fuck?” He said skeptically. Husk didn’t bother to deny it, just watched Anthony’s face. In the absence of all Angel’s make up, he looked much younger.
“How old are you?” He asked eventually. Anthony laughed harder.
“Your guy gave you absolutely nothin’ on me, did he? I’m definitely old enough to fuck if that’s what you’re askin’?”
“Not what I’m asking.” Husk said honestly, he was just curious.
“I’m twenty eight.” Anthony said calmly. It was such a bizarrely normal conversation, to say he was splayed wide across the hitman’s lap. “You?”
“Way too old for you.” Was all Husk was willing to admit.
“Honey, what about this …” Anthony gestured at himself “don’t scream daddy issues?” Husk couldn’t help it, he chuckled, deep and low, effectively rocking the other man on his lap, revealing the other man was hard above him. Anthony was interested too…
A moment passed between them, totally breathless and silent, where it could have gone either way.
As quickly as it began, the moment passed, unspoken.
Anthony climbed off of Husk’s lap, and reached for his gun. He didn’t raise it, but unlocked his door and held it open.
“Was nice to meet ya, Husk, now if ya don’t mind I need my beauty sleep. Try not to murder anyone on your way home, ‘kay?” Husk lay there with emotional whiplash for only a moment longer before dragging himself from the bed and hovering in the doorway. He knew when he was being thrown out.
“I’m glad tonight went the way it did.” He said eventually. Anthony smiled, offered Husk a brief kiss on the cheek, and then closed the door, leaving Husk in the corridor alone, slightly confused, but alive and a free man.
————-
Have an art:
