Chapter Text
Angel was not in good condition to say the least. He could actively feel his throat closing up. He had no fucking clue what Val gave him. It was sweet and… flowery. He knew he was fucked the second he smelled lavender. Val knew he was allergic to Lavender, and various other herbs. So this was most definitely on purpose.
But now he’s walking up the stairs of the hotel trying to keep his breathing steady and regulated. He could feel his breaths coming in fast and short as he dragged his sore body into the hotel.
“Fuck- hh- cHU- sniff- god damnit..” Angel had been sneezing the entire way home. Well more like small little squeaks he tried his best to stifle that he would regret later. He didn’t want to think about later, later when he would be laying on his bed covered in hives, breathing harder than he already is somehow. But no, it’s not later yet. It’s right now. And right now?
He just needs to get past Husk and get to bed.
“Heya Husky!” He tried to say cheerfully despite the very obvious crack and rasp in his voice.
Husk was sitting at the front desk bar, playing cards with himself. Husk looks up at Angel as he enters the hotel. The cat demon can clearly tell that Angel is in bad shape. “You look like shit.”
“Wow thanks.” Angel sat himself down at the bar and took a deep breath. (Well about as good a ‘deep breath’ he could.)
"What’s up with ya voice? Ya sick or somethin?” He said setting the cards down.
“Nothin. Just a hard day at work ya know how it is.” He said flashing one of his signature grins. He knew he was acting. And he also knew how much Husk hated this side of him. But he couldn’t stop. It was easier to slip on this mask and worry about later well… later .
"You really think I'm stupid enough to believe that? I've known you long enough to know when you're bullshitting, legs. You can save the act for someone else. I can tell something's wrong."
“Nothings wrong!” Angel could feel that tightness in his chest bubbling up. The tickle threatening to make its way through his sharp breathing. “Cough ca- can I get some water-“
"Right. Coughing up a lung and sounding like you've been gargling nails is the definition of 'nothing wrong'." Husk sighed and pours a glass of water for Angel, sliding it across the counter.
Angel grabbed the water and chugged it with an eagerness Husk had never seen in him before. Trying his best to savor the cold of the drink going down his burning throat. “whatever..” He rasped setting down the glass.
Husk leaned on the counter, studying Angel with a concerned expression. “I thought we were past this actin shit. You know you can be straight with me kid.”
“I’m. Fine.” Angel slid the glass towards Husk and stood up to walk out. He could feel husk staring at him. Or maybe it was the hives starting to form up his back. “I’m goin ta bed. G- goodnight Husk.”
Husk watched Angel stand up and start to exit. The cat demon's expression had shifted from concerned to a mix of annoyance and disappointment. He was tired of Angel's stubborn refusal to share what was troubling him, especially when it was so painfully obvious that something was wrong.
“Yeah, goodnight, Angel." He said worry evident in his voice.
Angel shuffled slowly into his room, his work clothes still sticking and agitating his already hot and itchy skin. “Heya Nuggets…” Angel said softly as he patted the small pig and made his way to the bathroom slowly.
The small pig tilted his head, staring up at Angel with his little piggy eyes as he was pet. He oinked softly, almost as if sensing that something was wrong with his owner. As Angel retracted his hand and turned around, Nuggets padded along behind him, following closely at his heels.
Angel turned around and looked down at the little guy. “Hey baby.. I know you wanna come in.. but ya gotta get out I n- need to shower..” He said quietly. His voice straining with each word.
Nuggets let out a little squeal, as if protesting. He didn’t want to leave Angel’s side, especially when it was obvious that something was amiss. The pig sniffed at Angel’s legs, as if trying to investigate the source of his distress.
Angel, starting to grow frustrated from a variety of reasons, kneeled down to the pig. “Nugs out.” Angel said sternly pointing towards the door.
He looked up at Angel with an almost betrayed look on his little pig face, but nonetheless obeyed his owner’s command. The pig trotted out of the bathroom with a sad squeak.
Angel shut the bathroom door with a sigh and turned towards the tub. He reached out and turned the shower on, listening to the sound of the water hitting the tile in almost a rhythm. Breathing was getting… harder, his hands were turning a bright bumpy red as hives riddled his limbs and back. His body was burning but he didn’t really care. He’ll be fine. Just get in the shower. It’ll help.
Angel started to peel back his sweaty clothing. His undershirt sticking to his skin and rubbing uncomfortably against his raw skin. He resisted the urge to just give up and curl up on the dirty bathroom floor and die. But he didn’t. He kept going. Ripping off each layer of his clothes just wanting to get this over with.
When he was finally bare he turned to the shower staring at it for far too long before turning back and staring at himself in the mirror. His face was bright red, puffy cheeks, bloodshot and swollen eyes. God he looked awful. He looked away quickly and walked towards the tub.
As Angel stepped into the shower, the hot water cascaded down his body, but it did little to alleviate the discomfort he was feeling. The hives on his skin only seemed to multiply and intensify, spreading across his chest and face in angry red welts. Breathing was becoming a laborious task, his breaths coming in short, wheezy gasps. But despite the agony he was in, Angel stubbornly tried to push through, refusing to let himself acknowledge the worsening symptoms.
He scanned the caddy full of his various shower products. Not having the energy or stamina required to use any of it just grabbed the first shampoo he saw and began working it through his fur. Scrubbing vigorously at the skin on his arms, legs, neck. It fucking burned. Like someone was peeling back his skin and boiling him alive. But Angel just did his best to ignore it and continued scrubbing desperately just trying to get himself clean.
Angel's hands trembled as he tried to work the shampoo through his fur. Every touch, every movement, sent sharp waves of pain through his body. The hives on his skin seemed to react to the stimulation, causing them to flare up with even more intensity. He tried to stifle a moan of pain, but it slipped past his lips anyways. He didn’t even realize when he started crying. But he felt the wetness dripping down his face and it stung against his swollen face. But the pain was quickly over shadowed by the fact that he couldn’t breathe.
Angel's chest constricted, and his breathing became more labored than he thought was possible. Each gasp of air felt like a struggle, as if someone was wringing his lungs out like a wet towel. The steam from the shower only made it harder for him to get a full gasp in. The hot water beating against his back the only thing keeping him grounded in the moment. Just breathe idiot. It’s not that bad you’re fine. BREATHE.
I’m the back of his kind he could hear Husky voice telling him to just take deep breaths. So he tried to take a deep breath, but found it impossible. His chest was tight, Every shallow gasp of air was like a pitiful squeak. The world around him started to spin, and he reached out to the shower wall to steady himself. This was bad. Very bad. But Angel stubbornly refused to admit it, still trying to convince himself that everything was fine.
But he knew he wasn’t fine.
Angel's legs felt weak and unstable, like they could give out at any moment. The hives on his skin were no longer just painful, they were downright agonizing. The urge to scratch was overwhelming, but he knew that giving in would only make the swelling worse. But with every movement, the itching only grew more intense, like fire ants crawling under his skin.
He tried to pull in a full breath but Christ he was suffocating.
Is he dying..?
His thoughts were becoming more panicked as he realized that he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. His vision was becoming blurry, and the room was spinning around him. Angel desperately tried to reach for his phone to call for help, but his flailing arm only succeeded in knocking over a bottle of shampoo, smashing it on the floor. He stumbled out of the shower, leaving the water still running and fell to his knees, his body shaking and heaving as he desperately tried to draw in a full breath.
Angel tried to call out for help, but all that came out was a strangled wheeze. He clawed at his throat, trying to draw any air into his lungs. His vision was growing dark around the edges, and he could feel himself slipping.
The last thing Angel heard was the desperate squeals of his beloved Fat Nuggets outside the door and his phone hitting the ground with a thud and an unsent message littering the screen.
Then it all went black.