Only Angel 2 [h.s] AU

Static in the system

Harry's POV
Seattle.

The knocking dragged me out of unconsciousness like a crowbar to the skull.

I jolted up, neck stiff, spine aching, and an absolutely inhumane groan clawed out of my throat. My mouth tasted like copper and cheap wine, and the couch beneath me felt like it had been constructed out of cinder blocks and betrayal.

"Fucking hell," I muttered, blinking at the muted grey light bleeding in through the living room windows.

What time was it?

I fumbled for my phone, still face-down on the carpet, only to find it dead. Of course. The knocking came again — louder this time, more insistent. I winced. My brain throbbed against my skull like it was trying to break out.

"Alright, alright," I grunted, standing up too fast and stumbling like I'd been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

I stepped over two empty wine bottles and a heel I didn't recognize. Just one. Tall, red, and unapologetically out of place. I had no clue how I got home. Or who I came home with.

The third knock rattled the door.

I rubbed my eyes, shuffled across the marble floor, and yanked the door open.

Joseph stood on the other side, immaculate in a navy trench and black sunglasses, holding a brown folder and wearing the kind of expression people reserved for car accidents.

He looked me up and down once. His jaw actually dropped. "Christ, Harry."

"Shit," I muttered, stepping aside.

Joseph walked in like he was stepping into a crime scene. He glanced at the heel. Then the bottles. Then the couch. He removes his sunglasses. "What the hell happened to you?" He asked flatly.

"Long night." I deflect. He set the folder down on the kitchen island, scanning the wreckage of my home like he was preparing to issue a report to HQ.

"I rang your assistant. She said you canceled your meetings today."

"Needed a day."

"Looks like you took three."

I didn't answer. Just dragged myself into the kitchen and poured the only clean liquid I could find—water from the tap—into a glass. I downed it in one go and filled it again.

Joseph stood across from me now, arms crossed.

"I'm not here to babysit," he said, voice quiet. "But you've got people depending on you. The New York account. London expansion. Board wants a formal statement on the Greenbridge acquisition by next week."

"I know."

He tilted his head. "Do you?" I just looked at him. The weight in my chest pressed harder than the hangover ever could. Joseph stared a second longer, then finally nodded to the folder. "I left the summaries in there. Take a look when your head stops pounding."

He turned and started walking back toward the door. Before he left, he paused.

"I don't need to know what's going on with you," he said without turning around. "But whatever it is, get ahead of it. Before it starts bleeding into everything else."

The door shut behind him, leaving behind nothing but silence and the ache in my head.

I leaned on the counter, letting the cool marble press against my forearms.

My phone was still charging beside me. Lit up now. The screen bright with notifications I didn't want to face.

One in particular.