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Chapter 12

It was an unbearably hot night, the kind where even breathing felt like a chore. Angel sprawled across his bed, wearing only a pair of shorts, fanning himself with his hand as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

"Husk!" Angel groaned, half-turning toward the doorway where Husk stood. "For fuck's sake, turn on the aircon, or I swear I'm gonna die in here."

Husk, wearing his usual disinterested look, leaned against the doorframe, rolling his eyes at Angel's dramatics. "You're not gonna die, Angel," he muttered. "It's just heat. Deal with it."

Angel shot him an exaggerated glare. "I am dealing with it, by complaining," he snapped, lying back down and crossing his arms. He glanced over at Husk. "How the hell are you not sweating?"

Husk shrugged, slowly making his way to the bed. "Maybe 'cause I don't whine like a brat about it," he teased, sitting on the edge of Angel's bed.

Angel grumbled, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt. "You don't like hot things, do you? That's why you don't smoke," he added with a smirk, shooting a glance at the cigarette pack lying on Husk's nightstand. "Bet you can't handle the heat."

Husk raised an eyebrow, taking a quick glance at Angel. "I handle heat just fine. But this? This is unbearable." He wiped some sweat off his brow before looking back at Angel. "I don't know how you're still conscious in this oven."

Angel groaned again and turned away, his back facing Husk as he sprawled out. "I'm just trying to sleep through this shit, but you're making it worse with all your complaining." He waved him off. "Go back to your room if you're so uncomfortable."

Husk stayed quiet for a moment, the room filled only with the sound of the fan weakly blowing hot air around. Then, out of nowhere, he shifted closer on the bed, gently wrapping an arm around Angel's back. Husk could feel Angel tense up for a second, but then the demon relaxed into his touch.

"I'm too tired to move," Husk mumbled, resting his forehead against Angel's shoulder. "And if you're gonna whine all night, might as well make sure you're not dying from heatstroke."

Angel blinked, surprised at the rare display of affection, especially from Husk. He could feel Husk's breath on his neck, the weight of his arm heavy but comforting.

"Husk, what the hell...?" Angel mumbled, confused but too drained to argue. He didn't move, letting Husk's arm stay draped over him as they lay there, the room sweltering around them.

Husk shifted closer, spooning Angel from behind, his usually cool demeanor replaced by something warmer, more vulnerable. He didn't say anything else, just held Angel in the stifling heat.

Angel smirked faintly, though he didn't turn around. "Too hot, huh?" he teased softly, but there was no bite in his voice. If anything, he sounded content, though he'd never admit it.

Husk chuckled lightly, his face still buried in Angel's shoulder. "Shut up and go to sleep," he grumbled, but the way his grip tightened just a bit told Angel that Husk wasn't about to let go anytime soon.

Angel, for once, didn't argue. He closed his eyes, feeling Husk's slow, steady breathing against his back. The heat of the night faded away, just for a moment, as the two of them lay together in a quiet, comfortable silence.

As the two lay there in the heat, Husk's hand, still wrapped around Angel, began to lightly trace the scars on Angel's skin. His fingers moved slowly, almost cautiously, over the cigarette burns scattered across Angel's back and shoulders. The sensation sent a shiver through Angel, even in the oppressive warmth of the room.

Angel shifted slightly, letting out a quiet sigh. "You really like those burn marks, huh?" he murmured, his voice softer than usual. There was a hint of curiosity, even vulnerability, in his tone.

Husk's hand paused for a moment, his fingers lingering over one of the larger scars before he continued. "Yeah, I guess I do," he replied quietly, his voice a little gruff. "Always liked keloids and scars from stitches... They tell a story." His hand pressed more firmly against Angel's back, fingers tracing along the rough, raised skin.

Angel, feeling the press of Husk's body against his back, arched slightly, pushing into the touch. He could feel Husk's intimacy through the fabric of his pants, pressing subtly against him, and he smirked to himself. "You're getting a little close there, doc," Angel teased, his voice still soft, but there was a playful edge to it.

Husk didn't pull away. If anything, he pressed a little closer, his breath warm against Angel's neck. "You're not complaining," he muttered, his tone somewhere between teasing and serious.

Angel let out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes though Husk couldn't see it. "Nah, I'm not," he admitted, settling into the feeling of Husk's touch. He liked it more than he wanted to admit—the way Husk's hand moved so carefully over his scars, like they weren't something ugly or broken. He hadn't felt that from anyone in a long time.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The heat of the night, the soft sound of their breathing, and Husk's hand moving over Angel's skin filled the silence. Angel's usual cocky, carefree demeanor was replaced by something quieter, more intimate. He wasn't used to letting people this close—not like this.

"Your body isn't dirty, you know," Husk mumbled, his voice low but firm. "Not the way you think it is."

Angel didn't say anything for a moment, his smirk fading slightly as he let Husk's words sink in. He'd spent so long hating his body, seeing it as a canvas of reminders of pain and mistakes. But hearing Husk say that... it stirred something in him.

"I guess I never really thought about it that way," Angel finally replied, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Husk shifted again, pressing his body closer against Angel's back, the warmth of him more comforting than the heat of the room. His hand stayed on Angel's scars, tracing them with a tenderness that made Angel's chest tighten.

The intimacy in the moment was unlike anything Angel had experienced before. And for once, he didn't try to make it a joke or push it away. He just let it be, lying there with Husk, feeling his scars being touched like they were something beautiful instead of broken.