#huskersgamble

"...!"

The little brat squeaked as he was picked up like an unruly kitten. He was so light for Husker that his little feetsies didn't even touch the ground when he was tugged up by the back of his shirt. He wiggled and whined before blepping innocently up to his big stronk kiwwy.

@huskersgamble

Husk's hands never stop moving. A lazy, practiced shuffle of worn cards that bridges the gap between busywork and armor. He doesn't look up at first, just lets the question hang in the air like smoke from a forgotten cigarette. The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile. Should he? The thought flickers through his mind like a faulty bulb. He's seen Alastor's smiles. Sharp and gleaming that don't quite reach his eyes. He's heard the way Alastor talks about people like they're puzzles to be solved, strings to be pulled. Trust isn't something Husk hands out freely. Hell, he barely hands it out at all.

But he's also seen the other side. The quiet moments when Alastor's mask slips just a fraction and a flicker of something almost human behind that kilowatt grin. Something about that makes Husk's walls feel a little less sturdy.

His thumb traces the edge of a card, back and forth, back and forth. Then he exhales slow, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "I'm a drifter... you know that."he says finally, voice low and rough, the word scraped out like it costs him something. "Been one most of my life, really. Didn't have much to tie me down in Nevada. Didn't want much to tie me down." He sets the deck down flat, palms resting on either side of it. His gaze drifts somewhere past Alastor's shoulder, into the middle distance where memories live. "Joined the Army when I was barely old enough to shave. Thought I'd see the world, ya know? Do somethin' noble." A bitter laugh escapes him, short and dry. "Then I saw a side of humanity I think I shouldn't have been able to see that young. Trenches'll do that to you. Strip away of who you are and leave you with the mud and the blood and the noise." His fingers curl around the edge of the bar, knuckles white for just a second before he forces them loose. "Came back and couldn't settle. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't look at people the same way. So I drowned it. Whiskey, gin, whatever was cheap and burned going down." He shrugs, a tired roll of his shoulders. "Fell in with some bootleggers after a while. Made decent money keeping my mouth shut and my head down. Eventually scraped together enough to open up a small bar of my own."

He finally meets Alastor's eyes, and there's something raw in that gaze, a flicker of vulnerability he quickly masks with a half hearted smirk. "Everything was lookin' up. Had a roof over my head, makin good money during the prohibition. Had a rhythm to my days that kept the ghosts quiet." He picks the cards back up, starts shuffling again, faster this time. "Then the crash hit at '29. Took damn near everything. Been scrapin' by ever since, tryin' to keep the lights on and the liquor flowin'." He hesitates, the cards pausing mid-riffle. His voice drops quieter, almost lost beneath the low hum of the bar. "And then you came prancin' into my bar like a damn dream." He scowls. Alastor was all smile and questions that night he came in. Husk would be lying to himself that he wasn't smitten. He shakes his head, a ghost of amusement tugging at his lips despite himself. "Part of me thinks I should keep my mouth shut." Their partnership oughta be just business. No messy histories to get tangled up in. He slides a card across the bar, the ace of spades, face-up... then leaves it there between them. "But you got a way of lookin' at a man that makes him wanna spill his guts anyway." In more ways that one, was Husk's stray thought about the serial killer. "Now what about you? Mr. Radio star."

Alastor listened, eerily silent as he let the older man speak. He'd rock on his heels where he sat, jittering his knees with the reaction. All the while as he tuned in to the bartenders old song and tale, his hazel honeyed gaze never once left the way the ex-boxer's fingers ran through the cards he was handling, fascinated by such an ease he dealt with.

The more Husk grew too close to a sore spot in his story, the quicker he'd shuffle, a quirk he noticed when someone delved too close to his soft heart. He reminded him of himself in that regard. But instead with a gruff growler to hide who he was, he did so with a barked laugh and a sharp smile instead. How uniquely similar they were.

To be honest, Al had already known much of his partner's story. He had to know to figure out if he would be the man he'd call his companions out in his murdering spree. To know his character, know he wouldn't rat on him. Know he wouldn't have to kill him when it was all said and done. But it was still nice to hear it from his lips himself.

It was far more somber coming from the man who lived it. He wondered what it was like to live and survive in a bloody war. He had been too weak and frail for any sort of combat, he could never truly comprehend the horrors this man had gone through. War where the killing was free but all the entertainment with it was gone. How dreadful...

"How thankful I am then," The younger mused with a soft chuckle on his lips, tipping his half filled wine glass one way then the other with the tips of his forefingers and thumbs. "that the tide washed you out to me~" With those words, he'd flicker a small smile the lingered gently on his lips. The venom in his normal grin all but gone now.

"I am glad that I can spare some solace to your long wandering. Not knowing where home is, having no one know your name? Sounds far too lonely." And he meant it.

The brunette blinked, confused and surprised when the elder man suddenly turned the tables on himself. He sat back dramatically, pressing a palm to his chest in mock smug shock. "You want to know about little ol' me~?"

Alastor chuckled, shaking his head. He'd sit properly once more, brushing a hand idly through messy curls. With the sweep of caramel digits, his locked loops would dangle elsewhere upon his brow, no longer swaying aimlessly over his long raven lashes.

A faint scowl pressed over his lips as he composed his giggles. Now that he had the chance to think about it...nobody had ever really asked him that. Not really. Not...honestly. Normally people just wanted things from him. Used soft honeyed words to make him swallow it down soother. But this...Husker didn't want anything from him. He even went out of his way to be honest with him about his past.

What did he say to that?

There was a moment of pause between them, his gaze searching Leo's face for a moment. His normal smile faltering, still stuck in an uncertain scowl before ultimately, he came to a decision within his own head. Shoulder's slowly eased low and the younger man shifted in his seat, looking away as if bashful, truly, bashful. And emotion that seemed just as vulnerable as the ones Leo felt as he spoke.

It felt strange to be so open.

One arm slipped comfortably around Alastor's waist as he pulled him close, pressing another quick kiss. He doesn't really care if any of Al's bosses see them now when he's picking up Alastor from work.

"Hey, baby," he murmured warmly. "You been waiting long?"

Alastor sighed loudly as he finally pulled himself out of the recording booth. It had been quite the long day at the station and as much as he loved the place, even a man like him needed a time off. He'd offer Thompson and Anderson a goodbye wave before giving Johnson a nod as he made it out to the front. He quickly grabbed his coat off the hanger as he pushed himself through the awaiting double doors of the exit.

Al was just starting to lock up after himself when he more felt than saw the larger man stalking his way up from behind him. The little brunette gave a soft giggle as a familiar scent brushed his nose and the warmth of the ex-boxer coiled around his petite frame in a protective hold, tugging him to a large chest with one slow move.

"Mhmm, hello darling. Missed me~?'' The brunette teased, tipping his head with a happy purr as kisses brushed his cheek and neck, the man's stubble tickling his jawline. Alastor gasped, clutching to his lovers chest when he revealed what he had been hiding with his free hand.

"Oh, Leo! They're lovely~! Really all for me? Ever the romantic my dear." He teased, taking the offering with both hands and pressing the delicate pedals to his pointed nose. Oh! They smelt so nice. Now he'd have to put them by his window when he got home. The little brunette kissed him back, peppering more little kissies where he could.

"Thank you, sweetheart~"

Alastor smirked as his darling hunk of a man dragged him protectively closer to his side. He hummed innocently, pressing closer like a damsel against the big barkeep.

"Oh, daaarling, he grabbed my little dainty arm and everything~! He could've broken my hand y'know. I say? Kick him out. Literally~"

Alastor smirked at the sweet little kiss.

Oh no no no~! That just wouldn't do~

With a sly grin, he'd yank Husker farther over the counter to kiss him harder, swiping his tongue against his lips just to be a brat as he did.

Injury / Injured Prompts || Accepting !

@huskersgamble sent: 😴 Carry the unconscious receiver somewhere safe after a brutal fight. (your choice)

It must be underlined, for the record, getting in bar fights wasn't a habit or even just common for Virgil. Hell, this was basically his first one, if you didn't count the scuffles he had gotten into with his fellow soldiers while he was serving his mandatory training time in the military. And they did not count, since that was a part of his life he pretended never happened.

In all truth, he could have easily avoided going through it to begin with, thanks to his father's influence, but he would have taken that shitshow over breathing the same air of his old man any day. No hesitation.

Once back, he had immediately left for college, gotten his degree in Electrical Engineering and gotten his first job as a technician at a broadcasting station. From there, his aspirations had grown and expanded and the young man had set his eyes on more prestigious positions. Rising through the ranks was a delicate job of precision, one that at times required more patience than Virgil had. Luckily, it helped that he had never been afraid of getting his hands dirty when needed.

His latest plans had led to his current circumstances. He had wormed his way into getting invited out for drinks after work by some of his colleagues. A bunch of sanctimonious pricks, if you asked him, but he needed to be on their good side to get recommended for the promotion that would soon be opening, once the man currently holding the position would have lost his life in an unfortunate accident.

It should have been a simple, even if grating, affair. Offer a round when it was his turn, play cards, laugh at the right times, come up with the fitting replies. It was an old script for him, one he had danced to a hundred times before. What he hadn't anticipated had been for one of those idiots to pick up a fight with another patron, a guy who was much bigger than any of them, and Virgil had found himself forced to step in and save the day.

Or, rather, try to, since he had gotten his ass brutally ended to him by the time the brawl had ended. At least, none of his colleagues had gotten too injured and they were all sort of impressed with him.

Oh, the things he did to get the recognition and attention he rightfully deserved.

He didn't remember passing out, but between the alcohol he had been consuming before the fight and the harsh blow to his head, his awareness of the events that had taken place wasn't fully reliable. He had a vague memory of someone picking him up from the floor and then...nothing.

He couldn't have said how much time had passed after that, but when he came back to his senses, he was greeted by a splitting headache and an upset stomach. His clothes were all creased and there were blood stains on the upper part of his shirt and jacket. His blood, he quickly found out, as his fingers met a nasty gash just under his hairline. And his glasses were cracked.

Real fucking wonderful. How was he supposed to go live looking like that the next day?!

Also...Oh god, he was so going to throw up.

And he might have, ready as he was to roll over the couch he was lying upon, if his mismatched eyes hadn't caught a silhouette, sitting just a few steps away from him. Virgil froze, blinking a few times at the stranger to clear his blurry sight, and a spark of recognition hit him once he had put the figure into focus. The man...he was the bartender from the bar he had been at. And where he was not anymore.

"...Uh," was the only noise that left the TV host's lips, his gaze darting around to take in his surroundings, without however managing to put the pieces together.

Husker lazily trailed a finger over smooth skin. Ah... those freckles.

They were a sprawling, intimate constellation scattered across the warm, buttery canvas of Alastor's skin. A dusting across the sharp jut of his shoulder blades, clustering thickest on the nape of his neck. A faint, tawny spray across his lower back, and then, darker, more concentrated, on the curves of his hips, disappearing under the edge of the sheet.

He realized with a slow, breathtaking clarity, that his lover looked... like a doe. A long-limbed, secretive thing, all elegant, quiet strength. The spots on his his hidden beauty, only visible to whoever he allowed to get this close.

Husk propped himself up on an elbow, the mattress sighing under the shift in weight. Then slowly, reverently, the bartender leaned down, lips brushed the first one, right on the crest of Alastor's left shoulder. It was the size of a small pea, a perfect little smudge of cinnamon.

"One," he murmured against the skin, his voice a gravelly whisper. He moved to the next, a hair's breadth away, lower. Another soft kiss. "Two."

Husk trailed down Alastor's spine, following the scatter. He kissed a tiny trio clustered by his ribs. "Three… four… five." Each kiss was a slow, deliberate act of worship. A promise. He wanted to seal them to memory. Not just with his eyes, but with the feel of his lips. The taste of his skin, clean and salt-tinged.

When he reached the curve of Alastor's right hip, the sheet had slipped lower, revealing the cluster. A whole galaxy of them, large and small, swirling over the sharp bone. Husk pressed his mouth to the largest one, right over the jut of his iliac crest. "Six."

Then another, just below it. "Seven."

And another, closer to the soft skin of his inner hip. He felt the muscle there jump under his lips.

"Eight."

Husk pulled back just enough to look up and lock eyes with his slighter lover. His usual sharp, kilowatt smile was gone. His dark eyes were wide, luminous in the dim light, and his lips were slightly parted. Husk traced a fingertip lightly over the freckle just below Alastor's navel, the last one he'd found. He hadn't kissed that one yet.

Husk traced a fingertip over the last freckle, just below his navel. "You look like a fawn with all these spots," he murmured. "And I'm gonna memorize every single one. So I can find 'em in the dark."

"And you look like a hungry beast." Came Alastor's sleepy murmur in turn. He had just gotten comfortable in his blankets when the larger man began to leave his sweet kisses down his slender bare frame. He chuckled breathlessly, hand still covering his tired eyes with his forearm, but his ever present smile was there, faint and sweeter than normal.

Alastor was a man who didn't much care for touch. He hated it most times. Reeling back with a hiss when some foolish man thought he was a simply too small and too polite to pull back from them. Nobody respected his personal space, nobody treated his distrust as a cause of their own, but a fault of his. It was vial.

But for Leo he-...he had long forgotten the sensation of shuddering in disgust and grimacing at the foreign invader pawing his caramel flesh. He never snarled or slapped Husk away. He enjoy it. The caress of his palm, the gentle drag of his fingernails against his pale peanut butter skin...he liked it.

Alastor seemed to purr with each dainty press of lips against his petite form half hidden in the blankets. He whined but never struggled away. Each quite gentle peck soothing him, calming him from his already bad mood.

He had been tired from a long day at the station and had barley done anything else since he came home but lay limply in bed through his exhaustion. Husker must've figured it out since he silently followed him to bed after dinner.

"They wish for me to take more shifts." Alastor sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through messy ebony locks. "Apparently I am too good at what I do. They wish to keep me from you even longer now..."