Personal Space
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Ship: Husk/Angel Dust
Word Count: 728
Warnings: Foul language
Husk growled as he pushed Angel off his shoulders for the hundredth time. When would that clingy bastard learn what personal space was? But he just gave him that smug grin and used his second pair of hands to play with one of Husk’s wings instead.
“Well, aren’t we a cranky little kitty cat?”
That did it. Husk grabbed the hands messing with his wings and threw them back to their slutty source.
“Fuck off already, you two-bit whore!”
Angel gave him a faux-shocked expression, one hand on his cheek and another his chest.
“Ouch! But in case you were wonderin’ my rates are a lot higher than that, old man.”
Then he was all over him again, arms everywhere.
“I think I could give ya’ an in-house discount, though. What’d ya say, pussy cat?”
Husk’s face twitched as Angel held him there, picking at the sorest spot in his psyche. Why’d he constantly have to remind Husk of this stupid fuckin body? Even his foul mouth failed him. He exploded from the tangle of arms with a feral sound and stood breathing heavily for a moment, trying to gather his wits.
He must have surprised Angel who watched him warily now.
“What’s your problem?!” Husk cried finally.
Angel gave him that irritating grin again, whatever hesitancy he’d instilled gone just like that.
“Pick your poison, Pops. I got a whole catalogue.”
“Get this through your thick fuckin’ skull,” Husk growled, poking a claw into his chest fluff. “You call me a cat one more god damn time, I’ll be rippin’ your clients a new hole to fuck!”
“Ooh, someone’s sensitive,” Angel cooed, leaning in so close, Husk could feel his breath tickling the hairs in his ear. “But I find cats to be very attractive.”
Husk felt a weird pulse in his chest as he shoved Angel away. But somehow the rage had ebbed. All that remained was a strange weakness in his limbs, a hollowness in his lungs, and a pain he’d rather ignore.
“Yeah, you would,” he muttered. “Freak.”
He slipped behind the bar and started following his instincts. A little cheap booze and all these stupid things beating around inside him would sink and drown. He’d hoped that would be the end of this ridiculous exchange, hoped it was late enough Angel might go to fuckin bed, or fuckin in someone else’s. But he didn’t. The bastard wanted to ruin even this solace.
Angel approached but didn’t lean across the bar or pose seductively against it like he usually did. He put a pair of hands on the edge of the bar and sighed.
“Hey, Husk, I ain’t tryin’ to hurt you or nothin’, ya know. I’m just - ah - what’s the word-?”
“A bastard?” Husk volunteered.
“Playful,” Angel finished, sitting on a stool. “It’s only cause I like ya, you know that, right?”
Husk was a little caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, the genuine way he gazed at him.
“You’re shittin’ me, right?”
“Nah, I think you’re a cutie.”
“Watch it,” Husk warned.
“Come on, Husk,” Angel sighed. “Remember when you first got here and I made Vaggy keep you.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Remember? I said “we’re keeping this” and she thought I meant the liquor.”
He laughed and slapped the bar, giving Husk a look as if it were a joke they shared but Husk just looked confused.
“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”
“Oh.” Angel’s smile turned smug again. “You don’t know I was talkin’ about you. That’s cute.”
“Don’t-”
But before he could threaten Angel again, those damn hands were reaching out for him, stealing away his breath. He took one of Husk’s paws in two of his hands while another ran down his arm softly.
“Hey. Just so ya know, ain’t nothin’ wrong with this body. So get used to it, kitty.”
Before Husk could take a swing at him, Angel backed away from the bar and gave him a wink. He even looked back at him one more time as he headed to his room like some kind of love sick teenager.
Husk scoffed and went back to his drink, but Angel’s words were setting in and simmering on the surface of his mind, refusing to sink like everything else.
“Asshole,” he muttered to himself as he stared down at the reflection in his bottle.