#this was also inspired by fanart I can't recall the source for right now.. will link when I find it

[darkhymns-fic]

give and take, a kiss here and there

Notes: A not-quite-finished radiohusk fic that I'm sharing because it's kiss day. Has sort-of fluff.

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On those days when Alastor felt impulsive, he always asked Husk to tag along. Well, ‘ask’ was a generous way to put it, Husk already being dragged by the arm down the street towards his boss’s new fascination.

“Come now, Husker! A night out on the town will do you some good for your constant moping!”

“Why do you think I’m even moping in the first place?!”

It’s expected of Husk to follow wherever the Radio Demon goes—tonight, it’s to some storefront that resembles a speakeasy, in a part of town where Sinners refuse to move on from their date of death. Abominations in clean-pressed suits and thigh-short dresses, in fedora hats and flappers. Otherworldly monsters guffawed their multiple mouths as they gulped down alcohol, all given from straight from the bar tap and its bartender, who used his curved and sharp appendages to feed waiting souls.

Odd that Alastor had taken Husk to a place he would actually like, and not another awful shindig in Cannibal Town again. He wouldn’t complain, already ordering a gin, straight up, and keeping his wings tucked in as both him and Alastor sat on the stools before the bar.

There was live music playing somewhere behind them, on the piano, and the air was filled with noise, smoke, and more drink. It stimulated Husk to a certain point, feeling lighter in his chest as he finished his glass and asked for another. Only a spare glance to his boss who was also downing his drink, chatting it up with the bartender who was very clearly, very not enjoying this part of his job right now.

In fact, he and Alastor were the only ones seated at the bar counter, everyone else at their tables in the room, or further pressed along the walls, gaining as much distance as they could. Yeah, no one wanted to be anywhere close to the Radio Demon—and the only ones who were had no other say in the matter.

Whatever. Meant less annoying drunk assholes to bother him.

And in that odd compromise, he found ways to enjoy his time here, namely in the always filling glass before him. The alcohol went down his throat smooth and warm, making his head buzz. But just as the good part of being drunk was finally setting in, he felt a tapping on his shoulder.

Hard. Urgent. Annoying. He groaned, turning to his right. “What?”

Somehow, he’d forgotten Alastor was still right next to him. The guy had gone quiet when just before he had been droning on and on to a scared employee.

But he was chuckling, his cheek resting against a hand, while the other now tapped multiple fingers over Husk’s shoulder.

Even now, with his vision slightly off-balance, Husk could tell the signs of another fellow drunkard. How much did he even have?

Alastor, with his constant smile, his fuzzy laughter that made Husk’s fur stand, gave him a few more taps before taking his hand away—and to point at his own face.

Husk stared. Huh? He watched that red claw tap gently against Alastor’s cheek, just below his monocle, the smile never letting up.

“Husker,” Alastor said, dragging out his name with a lowered voice. “Give me a kiss.”

Much of that pleasant buzz from before was rapidly fading fast. Husk narrowed his eyes. “You’re kidding me.”

His response was another soft wave of laughter from whatever synthetic voice filter he had on. Still, Alastor gazed at Husk with a certain light in his eyes. “I’m only asking for a small kiss, right on the cheek!” He cemented his statement with a wink. “Or is kitty still too grumpy?”

Husk growled, claws scraping against his glass. “No. Just, we’re not—” He glanced around the speakeasy, demons enjoying their good time, one dropping their glass right on the floor, another their wallet full of cash as others dove straight for it. “We’re in public.”

“Ooo.” Alastor gave another little chuckle. “A shy kitty, then.”

If there was something that Alastor was much too good at, it was getting right under Husk’s own fur and skin. Husk had lost count of the number of times he’d feel his face flush from Alastor’s comments, or how frustrated he’d get that he could barely form a counter back at the other demon.

“Stupid dickhead,” he finally said, and inwardly winced.

“Haha! You’re just adorable!” Alastor said much too loudly, once again laughing, showing off all of his sharp teeth. But just as quickly as he laughed, it faded away, the demon taking some breaths as he continued to stare at Husk.

Husk tried to ignore it, taking another swig of his drink. A kiss on the cheek. How ridiculous.

It was also just, so oddly childish, so oddly tame, in its own way.

He felt Alastor continue to watch him, waiting for his stupid, silly request turn vicious, but it simply hung in the air between them. The noise in the speakeasy continued to thrum around them, and his own head felt loose, as if it would fall off at any moment.

“Just a kiss, huh?” Husk asked.

Alastor didn’t answer, but tapped against his cheek once more. He looked almost hungry.

Husk sighed, pushing away his glass. “Fine. C’mere.”

But even after saying that, Alastor stayed in place, hands now steepled beneath his chin. An ear tuft might have flicked, though it could have just been a trick of the eyes, a result of all the booze Husk already drank.

He looked to his boss, got his bearings. Then, he leaned up to press a tight-lipped kiss against Alastor’s cheek, shutting his eyes as he did so. In reality, it was more like a nudge of his mouth and nose, one that pushed into Alastor very slightly. He had to shift on his stool to do so, hearing the swivel of the cushion, and feeling a little irritated that Alastor didn’t even bother meeting him halfway.

But Husk might have been more drunk than he realized, because his nose slightly moved Alastor’s monocle askew, just a bit. And he pushed into Alastor a little too much, enough that he had to place a hand on the bar counter to keep himself steady. 

Then he made the mistake of opening his eyes.

Alastor’s head was lower, fully resting on his hands. His expression looked peaceful almost, with his eyes shut, and his smile…normal looking. There was no display of sharp teeth, no wide manic grin. It was a smile that was filled with content, his mouth closed and his teeth hidden. 

Alastor looked relaxed.

Husk lingered. He looked at Alastor, his mind trying to make sense of the sight before him.

Alastor suddenly seemed very cute.

“Oh…”

And yet, when he voiced that surprise out loud, that sudden discovery, that knowledge of something pleasant that might have existed, Alastor would change it.

Eyes opened, bright red. His grin manifested, and even the faint static hummed around them like some broken-down machinery.

And Alastor leaned forward then, finally, just to take Husk’s hand in his own, fingers intertwining. He looked down at Husk, straightening in his seat.

Husk blinked. He would have backed off, but a hand was now suddenly placed against his thigh. Warm, but tight.

Alastor laughed again, softer, and still very, very drunk. He leaned towards Husk with a slightly-open mouth, then started to give a lick. A tongue roved over teeth and lips. He did it slowly. Languidly.

Like he was some fucking cat.

“The fuck you doing?” Husk hissed out, hand still in Alastor’s grip. His tail flicked at the nearness and Alastor’s static-y voice right at his ear.

“Oh? I’m just also giving you a kiss.” Alastor tilted his head, nudging against him. “Returning the favor.”

Husk growled deeply in his throat, vivid flashes of biting Alastor’s throat playing in his head. Until—

“Hey! Get a room if you sexual deviants are gonna be fucking at my bar!”

The noise in the room noticeably lowered then. Another glass shattered. The piano interrupted itself in mid-song, messing up the notes. Oh, Husk knew how Alastor hated a good song being ruined.

His boss turned to the bartender with a sharp crick of his neck. A tint of fiery red leaked from Alastor’s eyes, and writhing shapes from his antlers curled around above them both. “I’m sorry? Did you actually say something to me?”

The bartender, a weird bug-eyed demon with several skittering arms to match, tried to back away. Multiple bottles from the back shelves crashed to the floor from the bartender’s motions, along with a slow, tremulous shaking.

Husk, who really, really didn’t feel like seeing someone die right now in front of his eyes, did the first thing that came to mind. Which, if he was sober, would have probably not have been his first choice.

He leaned up to kiss Alastor on the cheek again. This time, it was more of a kiss, lips pressed against the cheek. And then, to return the favor, a small lick over the skin.

The terrible static storm seemed to fade out immediately. Alastor turned to Husk with widened eyes, still with his grin—and then, once again, devolved into soft, drunken laughter.

“Husker, you silly kitty!” The Radio Demon leaned against him again, still holding tight to his hand, and then nuzzled at Husk’s neck. His laughter was like bits of static electricity against Husk’s fur.

“Yep, that’s me…Your silly kitty.” He sighed. Indignity was easier to swallow when one had a few gins in them.