CW: swearing (because Husk).
It's a battle for Husk to drag himself to his feet paws most mornings. Against the pounding cage of a hangover (you'd damn well think he'd be used to that now), or sheer fucking fatigue from a whole night plagued by the sounds of gunfire and agony.
With Alastor he fights a battle of will, against a smarmy bastard holding all the cards. With Charlie it's dredging up effort to weather her sheer overload of innocent extroversion.
Vaggie barks like a drill sergeant. Niffty moves his stuff around as she cleans the bar, and he has to make sure to move that bottle of bitters back where it's supposed to be else things go to shit. There's no goddamn logical reason why it would, but that's what instinct and memory scream at him.
Husk is tired. He wonders what constantly fighting these constant internal wars is good for, in the scheme of things.
Angel does notice when it gets bad; pipes down; pays his tab without complaint; keeps the flirting to a subtle smoulder and his regular display of chest fluff. Keeps Husk company on those rough days.
That little bit of respite means a lot for the old cat.
Title is from the song 'War' by Edwin Starr.
the huskerdust is rather light here but I can assure you I definitely do ship it. there will be more down the line.
Angel is a real MVP.