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for your own good

There was a rustling of chains and creaking leather in the corner. Accompanied by low growls laced in static that made his ears curl. Husk made the error in giving said corner a quick glance, and met with red eyes that could have seared the very air between them if they could. Lay low. Don't make it worse. Husk fiddled with the cards. This might all pass.

Alastor, now free of his leash, is brought to heel by the King of Hell. Husk is tasked to watch over him. It's for the good of the hotel, which already has enough problems.

But more chains gets old so fast.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk Rating: T Word Count: 3246 Mirror: AO3 Notes: Based off this prompt by anon, thank you for getting me out of the writer's block. I so missed my furry toxic yaoi...

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It's for safety reasons, they said. You just need to watch over him, they said. So he doesn't hurt himself!

Alright, it was Charlie who said all that, and Husk, the softie and dumbass that he was, listened to her. He was pulled in by pleading paired with teary eyes, by the worrying gesture of her hands, and that, with everything the hotel was going through now, only Husk could do this.

“He trusts you!” she said to him, as they walked towards the small, forgotten hotel room that was still in renovation. “And I think he'd really appreciate having a friend with him.”

The door had shut behind him with a loud click. A turn of a key, and then said key floating away to catch a stray mouse or something. Husk wasn't sure he could bribe the little KeeKee with any treats this time.

He was stuck here, on watch, with a fellow rabid prisoner. Following orders once again. The hell is fucking wrong with me?

There was a rustling of chains and creaking leather in the corner. Accompanied by low growls laced in static that made his ears curl. Husk made the error in giving said corner a quick glance, and met with red eyes that could have seared the very air between them if they could.

Alastor, threads shining over his stitched mouth, struggled inside the straitjacket, thinking just one more tug, just one more corrupted signal would be enough to get him free. Surrounding him, the end of each of his shadow tendrils were bound in dark manacles, connected by chains lodged in the wall behind him.

Husk, seated on the floor and all the way across the room, flipped another card in front of him. Least he could do was play some solitaire.

“Got no one but yourself to blame for this, boss,” he said, eyeing the king of spades card he drew. “But I'm sure you'll try anyway.”

His answer was another rupture in the air, one that made the soft hotel light above flicker. Classic horror movie trick, except the monster was real and could do far worse if he could. “That fucking hack of a king!!”

Not the first time the specter of Lucifer overshadowed the air. And maybe, Husk was beginning to get the sentiment.

What made it worse? This all may have been somewhat avoidable if most of the Pentagram hadn't suddenly turned on the hotel, too.

Lay low. Don't make it worse. Husk fiddled with the cards. This might all pass.

Husk wasn't even sure how it all started; it just all slowly built up when the path to redemption Charlie promised kept not working, kept failing, kept getting people hurt in all her outrageous exercises that were life or death.

Or how sinners slowly began to lose faith and called Pentious a liar, that he must have been an angel in disguise actually, and that was why he was in Heaven and just went back there once he was tired of Hell. And also, how many still regarded Lucifer, King of Hell, as a let down after the whole Might of Lilith fiasco. So, it wasn’t like Alastor was alone in his opinion.

And then, to make matters worse, somehow always worse, Lute and her Exorcist army came down to fan the flames. Not only killing sinners, but goading them on. After all, wasn’t it the little princess and her filthy hotel staff were ruining things? Shouldn’t they all take out their anger and grievances on such a tacky building where all they do is pray the sin away?

Husk grimaced. He hated how sometimes he could see where they were coming from.

There was another clattering of chains and growls, followed by incessant buzzing that made the fur on Husk’s back stand on end. Charlie hadn’t wanted to hurt any of the sinners, even if they were trying to hurt her. One of the guests—a spy? a stalker?—had even tried to douse her in battery acid (because they were made of the stuff) before Vaggi skewered them in half with her spear. Only the carpets were singed, and maybe another sinner or two.

So, quarantine time. Separating themselves from the bloodthirsty sinners outside until Charlie could think up a plan. Any plan. Just something. Until Alastor got fucking antsy.

The man never liked being chained down to begin with.

Antlers grew and stretched above until they staggered. Alastor snarled, but the spiny darkness wouldn’t reach up to claw at the ceiling like he desperately wanted to. Metal clasps dangled with each motion he tried, the chains also groaning from his constant pulling. Their surfaces looked dull in the lighting, but Husk could see the faint sheen of silver over those chaina—the same over the leather straps that constricted Alastor’s arms.

On Charlie's insistence, perhaps the most she had ever been, Alastor was not allowed to kill anyone, even if Vaggi got to. And he took that extremely personally.

Husk was the voice of reason. The one who knew Alastor best. So, of course Charlie had picked him for this gig. He took a breath, tail twitching.

“Look, if you calm down, we can play a game of go fish or something.” Husk slapped down another card on the floor, one arm laying over his upright knee. “You like that, right?”

Well, he knew Alastor did, but not before his own pride had been trampled on. No, Lucifer couldn’t harm sinners, but that didn’t exempt him from binding them if he really, absolutely needed to. It seemed the King of Hell, despite being a bit of an airhead, still held a few tricks of his own.

Another snarl. Eyes seared red, lengthening the shadows around them. The rather sparsely furnished hotel room, with just maybe one bedside table and blanket lying on the floor near Alastor (a gift from Niffty?), was painted in neon crimson. The very air around Alastor brimmed with keening pitches and electricity.

Maybe antsy wasn't exactly the right word for Alastor. More like rabid. Or feral. Unhinged. In a more murderous moon than usual.

Him and Lucifer had been butting heads constantly since the lockdown, like the freaks they were, until it reached a boiling point and Alastor was tearing apart the foyer after Lucifer said something about his face, or some other bullshit. Husk didn’t care to really know. He thought it would be over quick. He thought his boss wouldn't be humiliated so thoroughly.

The result was Alastor bound in angelic chains, barely able to do anything but growl and struggle, until he realized he really couldn't break free at all. No, Lucifer couldn't harm sinners, but maybe his time in the scary box gave him an idea that wasn't duck-themed for once.

“Ha! Just another trussed up little Bambi! Am I right, or am I right?!” Husk remembered Lucifer turning to him specifically when he said that, pointing at Alastor like he’d won the biggest hunting game of his eternal life. There was Alastor near the shattered fireplace, wrapped in a straitjacket that had suddenly materialized, with shining chains that took every tendril and brought it to heel like a pack of beaten dogs. He had looked small. He had looked wrong.

Lucifer kept grinning wide, then slapped Husk on the shoulder. “Ha, you get me. How about a free round for everyone at the hotel, barkeep? The good stuff!” Then he did double finger guns. For some reason.

Husk hadn't answered. The whole situation just made him feel sick.

In the end, no one else really argued for his freedom. This way, Charlie wouldn't have to worry too much. She could finally focus on the sinners. On the goddamn hotel. Still, she had found the time to ask him one thing. Just one small favor, pretty please with sugar and cherries on top.

So, here he was. The guy that got the short end of the stick because Lucifer might have pushed Alastor and made things worse, because Niffty might have freed Alastor the moment she could, because Vaggi couldn't stand being around the radio host, and because Charlie just never, ever had enough time.

Husk, last man standing between Alastor and the rest. Forced to be his boss' sole entertainment.

Alastor, still with his noises, quieted down slightly. He glared, he seethed, and his tendrils shook in their chains.

A crack of bones, head tilting. “You're so far away, Husker.”

Husk frowned. “Yeah? You can still see the cards.” He held one up. The queen of clubs. “I ain't budging.”

Yet, this hotel room felt so small compared to the rest. And Alastor's eyes, steeped in that bleeding neon, were disturbingly clear. Even if the threads around his mouth stretched as far as they could go.

He was trying to calm down now. After raging for blood, to tear off Lucifer’s head from his shoulders, to eat his fill of every sinner that tried to break through the hotel’s doors.

After looking very ready to rip open Husk's ribcage apart and leave nothing behind.

Husk stretched out his wings, flipping his chosen card on the floor. “Al, we don't have to make this hard. Just tell Charlie what she wants to hear and let's get out of here, alright?”

What he didn't dare say, Seeing you all chained up like this fucks with my head too much.

At least, they didn't put Alastor in a literal cage, just to be overkill.

For a moment, the droning static stopped. The shadows covered Alastor's face, leaving only bright eyes, their light digging into Husk's skull. The antlers strained. The chains rattled again.

Then, a laugh. Not harshly. Not in its usual mocking tone.

It just sounded tired.

“I have had enough of doing just that.” Another painful twist, enough that Husk swore he could feel it himself. “All I have done is keep telling others what they crave to hear. Is that what you want me to do?”

“How is it any different with me and you then, huh?” Husk swept up the cards back into his hand. The white edges shone brightly against the red light. “I have to say what you want all the goddamn time.”

“Ah, no, not true, Husker.” The tendrils continued to pull the chains. Mindless things, like every shadow Alastor had ever made. They would rush around Husk on normal days, sliding a tip just against his ear, or his hand. He should be glad they were tied down now. “I need someone around who will, for once in my existence, just tell me the truth.”

Husk raised an eyebrow. God, why was he playing this game with him? “You didn’t exactly appreciate my fucking honesty the last time.”

A chuckle that rasped and clawed at the bars around his soul, the leather straps on the straitjacket heaving with rage. “No, but it was a good reminder.” A shudder. “I can’t stand being like this again.”

And with that, Alastor stood up.

It was a small waste of a room they were both in, one that was chosen haphazardly by Vaggi when she wanted to wash her hands of the whole thing. “Just let me know if he does anything,” she had told Husk as he was pulled away by Charlie, already rushing out to stem down another catastrophe. Both sinners and angels were trying to get through the windows. Even now, Husk could hear the glass shattering, as if each step from Alastor widened the cracks even more.

“Hey, you're just fucking making it worse!” Husk’s shout was barely anything like one, more like a feeble warning that held no real teeth to it.

It was painful to just move. Husk knew this. He knew it the moment he saw Lucifer summon the binds over Alastor, silver light searing deep into Alastor’s skin before it turned to chains and leather and clasps. But even with that light slowly covered, it didn’t stop the very burning that must have kept going, leaving their marks on his twisted bones.

“I've tasted freedom, finally, for the first time and then I'm locked away again! Again, Husker! I refuse to be like this anymore. Not after everything. Charlie can say all the sweet words she wants, and it will hurt worse than these stupid chains! You understand that, my friend!”

This wasn’t the time for pride now. But Husk could only watch as Alastor tried to walk forward, pulling at the chains until one link seemed to warp and weaken. A yellow grin took over half of his face, the threads threatening to snap off, and then what would happen? Would he just unhinge his mouth and scream and devour everything in sight?

Husk held the cards close to his chest, but then, there was a wrong shift of Alastor’s constrained legs. He then fell to his side, his shoulder hitting a rough section of the floor. He grunted, the static bursting around him like a mini electrical surge.

Husk winced. He turned away.

Fuck. Why was this too much for him? Shouldn't he be happy to see Alastor get a taste of his own medicine for once? To feel like he's always at the mercy of another?

Except, he always had to. They’ve always had to. They’ve always had to.

Husk pressed his hat further against his head, wanting to just disappear from this mess. “Just–Just stop it! Let's just get it fucking over with and then you can go back to being a petty asshole like always!”

Don't be trapped anymore together. We’re already trapped by everything else.

He hated what this did to him. Not when this man on the floor would also tug at his chains and make him feel worthless. So why did he have to care about it? He didn't want to unpack that and find the answer.

Alastor looked up at Husk from the floor. His grin was tight. Painful. “You know they won't fully let me go.”

Husk shouldn’t have looked at Alastor in the eyes. But it was already too late. And he had already wanted to.

“Another manacle over my neck. Or maybe on my ankle. But I heard the talks, Husker. I'm not to be trusted, and they have good reason not to, I admit.” Alastor’s chuckles were hollow. “I'm too dangerous to be free again, aren't I? I don't deserve such a thing.”

Husk listened. He tapped his claws over his cards. Still, a seed of doubt. “Charlie wouldn't agree to that.”

Alastor's smile widened. “Oh, Husker. You really are losing your touch.”

Maybe he was. Husk hadn't been the same since Angel left, since the hotel felt less and less like a home and just another dive to work at for no pay. Alastor, tied up and burning from the binds over his flesh, was just his next task on his work docket.

Looking at Alastor, lying on the floor, a defeated monster. Why were those eyes more like a reflection than anything else?

“Then what do you exactly want me to do?” In the end, that was what Alastor was really asking him.

The demon was close enough that those struggling antlers could have pierced him if they were allowed to grow. Alastor was able to push himself to his knees, constricted in his pose. His tight grin was about to rip open his entire face.

“You have so many tricks up your sleeve. I shouldn't have to spell it out, dear friend.”

At that, Husk hid his cards away. But their edges still caught the red light from Alastor's gaze. Sharp, and still with a gleam or two of old angelic blood that Husk could never wash away.

He did make sure to keep a few of the Carmilla-adjustedcards. In case of another Exorcist attack. In case he finally had enough. In case he had to do the unthinkable..

And even if the shadows were threatening, even if he would be the first to have his head ripped off, or his soul torn to shreds…

He couldn't keep watching Alastor like this anymore.

The room was so small. Claustrophobic. Both them locked in here with each other. Everyone thought they would just take it, right? Husk felt the age-old anger burn in his chest.

But was he not just following orders again? From one voice of authority to another?

Except Alastor can't command for shit now.

Then, the room went dark. Husk raised his head, staring at the demon who now leered over him. A back sharply bent, a mouth now half open. The threads poked through Alastor's skin painfully. He had the slavering jaws of a beast, the eyes of a deranged maniac, and—

It really was too much.

“I see you wavering,” Alastor spoke. His voice became pure corruption again. A shadowy tendril pulled, and pulled, but was bound further. Husk could feel the searing heat, the hiss of magic crackling underneath. “But I suppose you could get what you want with me locked away.”

Something clicked inside his skull. Opened. Let in the harsh light over everything. Husk growled. “You don't have a fucking clue what I want.”

A lie. A half-truth. Husk didn't know either. But with that, his hesitation was over.

The way he threw his card forward was hardly much, he barely had to leave from his lazy slouch on the floor. But that one card aimed itself to the chains, the one attached to a right wisp of shadows. It shimmered in the dark, but the metal snapped. The shadow pulled free, then moved erratically across the walls.

Alastor watched Husk so eagerly.

He had a few more. He was barely paying attention to what he was doing. These things slipped from my hands that was all. Got sent in here while I was drunk on the job. After all, what did people expect of him? What did Charlie expect of him?

The cards moved like they were on their own, not pulled by anything invisible, not following the direction of Husk's gaze. The chains around another tendril. The leather binds crossing Alastor's torso. And the straitjacket itself, torn to shreds—or maybe that was because his boss was getting much too big for it anyway.

Alastor continued to leer down, his antlers grand and clawing at the ceiling. Twin spotlights of red fell over Husk, the star of Alastor's very eyes.

The end of one of those thin shadows slipped underneath Husk's chin, a feather touch. He looked up at Alastor, at that wide, feral grin where the threads no longer burned against skin.

There was relief.

“Favors for favors then,” he said before moving closer. He slid his fingers around Husk's neck.

Maybe Husk would have accepted anything, having so little left. I won't need the cards anymore. But he heard the tell-tale chains snap, watched fragments of green float in the air before vanishing completely.

Alastor leaned down so close, his breath rushing into Husk's mouth. “We won't need them anymore.”

The hotel had always been a temporary thing. As Charlie said herself, a place for sinners to pass through. To move onto better things.

They had better things to do.

Husk didn't move as Alastor engulfed them both in shadows, the distant sounds of the doors breaking echoing far ahead. It didn't matter. They weren't staying here any longer.

Entangled together, but free.

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