Chapter Text
September 27th – present
Henry Husker had an almost endless list of moments that could be labeled as “make an ass of himself”; he could have mentioned the decidedly embarrassing day when he was caught counting cards one of the first times he was learning, or the memorable scene of the delightful magician’s assistant appearing at the door of the dressing room – who knows in which casino in Las Vegas, he surely doesn’t remember – to catch the aforementioned magician, her husband, kneeling in front of Husk and busy sucking his cock.
Special mention for his wedding toast with Lidia, because the brilliant idea of giving Alastor carte blanche had quickly earned itself the top spot as one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.
Until that moment.
He had no idea that waiting outside his daughter’s elementary school, in one of the rare moments he was allowed to see her – not that Lidia had ever objected, but with the divorce still fresh and the court involved the situation was not simple – under the eyes of who-knows how many mothers who now knew perfectly well that he was Lidia Dixon’s ex-husband, could reach the profound discomfort he had felt in hearing a pleasantly tipsy Alastor proudly declaim the amount of disasters they had caused together in college before Husk went back to Vegas.
Add to this the fact that Caroline’s school, right in the Upper West Side, hosted several scions of New York high society – the Dixons paid that fee, certainly not Henry; he had tried, at the beginning, but opposing his father-in-law had always been rather difficult. And so: Caroline Husker – the last name had remained the same, Lidia seemed to care a lot about it – deserved the best.
A ‘best’ that you, her father, were never able to give her.
Henry cleared his throat to banish the nagging conscience, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and crossing his arms over his chest before leaning idly against the lamppost across the street.
Standing like this, away from the entrance, he contemplated with silent resignation the immense mess that had always been his life, ignoring the murmured chatter among the rich bored mothers who looked at him with a mixture of pity and desire.
Even though he was broke and engulfed in gambling debts, Husk apparently still had some appeal – a walking red flag, perhaps.
He had never understood women in his entire life.
For instance, he still hadn’t figured out how he’d gotten picked up by the girl he’d fucked two nights ago, after getting off his shift at Zestiel’s speakeasy; one minute he’d been pouring her her second dry martini of the night, the next he’d been stumbling into the doorway of Martha’s – or Miriam? – while she giggled and ripped open his shirt so forcefully that she ripped off the buttons.
He certainly hadn’t complained, though: Martha – or Maggie? – had been a pleasant diversion and a way to remind himself once again that he was a divorced man, that Lidia had been seeing a new person whose name he still couldn’t remember for six months, and that sex was fun. Especially when sober, when he was in control of the situation and could leave immediately afterwards, without suffering the embarrassing morning-after between two strangers.
Or at least, that was how it was most of the time.
The last morning-after, dating back at least a couple of weeks ago, had not been exactly embarrassing. Not at all.
Husk lingered casually – as he had done since that morning – in the memory of Anthony naked in that rumpled bed, in the offer he had made to him to realize something they had only tasted because he had fallen asleep like the drunken idiot he is.
Something that Husk, thinking about it in hindsight, would have really liked to make come to an end – many times – but that the signing of his failed marriage that morning had made it complicated to achieve.
It’s complicated , he had told him, and for the millionth time he sighed heavily, closing his eyes and rubbing his fingertips over his thick eyebrows, as the perfect image of deep exasperation towards himself and his enviable dickhead.
But who knows, maybe it had been for the best: asking Anthony for his number would have meant ending up in bed, and something in the way he still hardened at the alcohol-laced memory of the night – Anthony’s hands on him, that mouth sliding into a trail of kisses downwards and that freckled ass with the little heart tattoo – suggested him that just once wouldn’t be enough.
And Henry, with the new job that Alastor had gotten him and a lot of financial and “marital” problems to resolve, definitely did not have the time, nor the strength, to disappoint another partner.
The muffled sound of the school bell tore him out of his thoughts, making him reopen his amber eyes and look for his daughter in that wave of children from six to eleven years old who poured out of the glass door in more or less orderly and certainly loud groups.
After at least five minutes of the crowd thinning out and the various parents or drivers or babysitters picking up their respective spawn, there was no sign of Caroline’s black curls.
Henry frowned, untangling his arms and moving away from the streetlamp to approach the entrance and check inside – she might have been held up for some reason, but there was apparently no sign of her there either.
Lidia would have informed him if the plans had changed, right?
The horrible suspicion of having lost his daughter, dragged away by the crowd, crossed his thoughts and covered him in cold sweat.
The final nail in the coffin of your marriage, Husker.
Just before being overwhelmed by a wave of panic, with his cell phone in hand to call who-knows-who for help, he heard a familiar voice.
“Dad!”
Called by Caroline’s unmistakable voice, Henry felt relief invade him – he sighed, slowly, pocketing the cell phone that he had brought to his ear and turning towards the sound source.
“Caroline, you scared me to death, where were y–”
He never finished the sentence, because Henry’s amber eyes slipped to focus on the little girl running towards him with the backpack bouncing on her shoulders, and then continuing and locking onto another familiar-looking little girl with the same uniform worn by his daughter – perhaps he had seen her three or four times at their house, Caroline’s little friend whose name he obviously couldn’t remember.
Who knows, perhaps alcohol had specifically damaged the part of his memory that stores people’s names, otherwise it can’t be explained.
Anyway, no, it wasn’t Caroline’s – who in the meantime had reached Husk and hugged him around the waist, with the innocent enthusiasm that all children have – friend who blocked the words in his throat.
It was the person standing near the other little girl.
A tall, lanky man dressed with a teddy jacket of a very familiar fuchsia color, black Docs with equally fuchsia laces, a pair of light jeans with more rips than fabric, freckled belly left uncovered by a very tight black top and a pink bubble gum that popped, before a smile that is both amused and amazed at the same time.
“Well well well ~”
He would have recognized that golden canine even in the dark.
“I had no idea New York was so small.”
“What flavor do you want, tots?”
“Pistachio! Because it’s green.”
Anthony chuckled, delighted, and Henry couldn’t help but watch his daughter light up with joy too as the blond insisted on paying for two ice cream cups – one for Caroline and one for Anna, his daughter’s friend and apparently niece of the aforementioned man.
Niece. His niece.
The walk to Central Park – ten minutes from school, no more – had begun with general confusion and mild embarrassment on Husker’s side, as he reluctantly agreed to accompany Caroline to the park to play with Anna.
He had never been able to resist those big dark eyes, and despite the thought of having seen his daughter’s friend’s uncle in a completely different situation – lying on the bed with his bathrobe pulled aside, leaving very little to the imagination – Anthony had seemed particularly at ease upon seeing him again.
And who was he to back out?
So, along the way, Anthony had told him that Anna was the only daughter of his sister Molly, a sales assistant at Macey’s, and that every now and then she asked Anthony to pick her up and look after her.
Aside from the unexpected amount of personal information, the fact that before that afternoon they had never accidentally bumped into each other outside of school or directly in the lobby of the apartment building where Lidia still lives seemed to Husk a colossal joke of the universe.
Life really shows you a person at the exact moment in which it decides to do so, without any explanation whatsoever.
And so, without even knowing exactly how, he found himself sitting on a green bench covered in engraved writing, with a half-melted pistachio ice cream cup in his hand, talking to the young man he would never have imagined meeting again.
Certainly not under these circumstances.
“So.”
Henry blinked and stopped keeping an eye on Caroline, who was swinging upside down with Anna on the bars of the playground’s wooden castle – a crisp late September afternoon, filled with the chatter and laughter of other children. The already-started autumn had dyed some of the leaves yellow and red, around them.
He slid to look at the blond sitting next to him, arms open and stretched out lazily on the back of the bench, the heels of his Docs planted on the ground and the posture of someone who seems perfectly at ease where he is. Anna's cup of ice cream, all strawberry flavored ‘because it’s red’, resting balanced on his right knee.
“... So.” Husker repeated, encouraging him to continue – he stared at his profile, considering that Anthony wasn’t looking at him but was keeping an eye on his niece, who had her uncle’s blond hair and a lot of freckles, but blue eyes. Maybe taken from the father, who knows.
“You’re not only married, you have a daughter,” the blond commented, glancing at him sideways and raising his right eyebrow in a stroke of mischievous irony.
Henry sighed, searching again for his daughter – Caroline was saying something about the rules of an imaginary competition between her and Anna over who could spend the longest time upside down, something like this.
“I told you it’s complicated.”
“Well, explain to me better.”
It was Husk’s turn to raise his thick eyebrow, turning back to Anthony who was staring resolutely at the playground. The right hand of the same arm, stretched out on the back of the bench behind Henry, drummed the long fingers lacquered with slightly chipped pink enamel.
“What’s there to explain?”
“I get that you don’t like to talk, whiskers, but considering this–” and he gestured lazily at the two girls playing together. “It turns out our lives aren’t as far apart as they seemed. So–” he finally turned, casting a patient hazel gaze – his left eye, in the late afternoon light, was almost green – directly at Henry. “Either you explain this ‘complicated’ situation a little better, or it’s going to get even more awkward thinking about you while I jer–”
“Okay okay okay.” Husk interrupted him, in a sharp breath, a gruff brushstroke as he found himself metaphorically ruffling his fur like a cat hit where it hurts. “For fuck’s sake, we’re in a playground.”
“Oh, I didn’t notice. Anna!” He called his niece, waving the left hand in the way only someone with Italian roots can do: talk with their hands. “Ice cream pit-stop.”
The little girl trotted toward the bench, dragging Caroline with her – tawny cheeks, a shade lighter than Husk’s, flushed from the movement.
Henry smiled slightly at her, also holding out the ice cream cup.
“Did you see me, daddy? I was upside down for five seconds!” she boasted, shoving a spoonful of pistachio into her mouth.
“Good job, honey,” he praised, watching as she stabbed her spoon into the ice cream again, grabbed Anna’s sticky hand, and ran back to the wooden castle.
That faint smile remained on his lips until he felt the familiar tingling of a gaze fixed on his profile; he sighed, drawing his attention back to the man next to him, who was sporting an arched eyebrow in the universal and silent gesture of someone who was still waiting for an answer.
“I’m divorced.” Henry began.
Years and years at the gaming table had taught him that an exploratory hand is fine as long as you have something to bet on, but at this moment what did he have to lose? He might as well go all in.
“Since the morning of the day we met. I had signed the papers and drinking seemed like the best way to drown a bad day.”
The best solution to drown a lot of things, actually, but this comment from the little voice remained in the back of Husk’s mind.
Anthony listened to him silently, without commenting or tapping on the back of the bench; calm, his hazel eyes alternating between him and the playground.
“Me and my– My ex-wife.” It still felt weird to say it out loud. “We've been separated for a long time.” Since Lidia told you in tears that she wanted a divorce, eight months ago. “We made it official two weeks ago.” he concluded, but judging by Anthony’s expression he was not satisfied yet.
The blond bounced his right knee slowly, up and down, resulting in the slow swing of the ice cream cup still balanced there. He clicked his tongue a few times – the piercing flashed between his teeth for an instant.
“And what would be complicated about this?”
“Wha–”
“Are you one of those who likes to fuck men but doesn’t want to say it?”
“Hey, don’t–”
“Which for the record, it wouldn’t be anything new, do you know how many have fucked me while saying that men grossed them out but with me it was diff–”
“Anthony.”
He didn’t know if it was the tone or the use of his name, but in that moment Henry could almost physically feel the effect it had on the blond next to him: a hint of fragility in that hazel gaze – yes, if you looked closely, his left eye was actually greener – the same fragility he’d felt, more bitter, nestled in the syllables of a morning sentence.
I’m surprised you managed to remember my name.
Husk caught that sensation, again, before yet another blink made it disappear, leaving him vaguely confused: he was no longer used to paying so much attention to the emotions of those in front of him.
He cleared his throat, passing the cup from one hand to the other; he would have loved to rest it on his legs like Anthony, but since he was already dressed in his work suit – a pair of black pants, a white shirt and those embarrassing suspenders that Zestiel demanded from all his male employees – it was definitely better not to tempt fate and risk arriving at the speakeasy with an ice cream stain on his knee.
“I don’t care if the person I have sex with is male or female. Or neither. Or both.” he shrugged, with extreme nonchalance. “To use a metaphor, I like the wine that is inside, I don’t look at the label.” it was his turn to click his tongue, as if to make a point.
Anthony stared at him as if he were looking at him for the first time since that morning – when they had said goodbye at the bedroom door with a lie that life had already decided wasn’t one.
Those mysterious things that go strange ways and then come back right at you.
Henry looked at his closed-mouthed smile, accompanied by a lazy bow of the head that admitted an amused touché tinged with a more languid shade – something that tugged at a thread, inside Husk, soaked with a desire still tangled in his thoughts.
Anthony had not been the only one to linger on that night.
“So, knowing your wine taste–” the blond resumed the conversation, nonchalantly, calling Anna once again for the ice cream pit-stop. She arrived accompanied by Caroline, who took two spoonfuls of the now almost completely melted pistachio before running off. “I repeat the question: what would be complicated about this?”
Yeah, Husker, what would be complicated about this?
Henry didn’t immediately answer either the little voice in the back of his mind or the other’s question – he stirred with the spoon in the now almost empty cup, gathering his thoughts and trying to make sense out of them.
Lidia and Caroline were just a part of the mess that was his life.
He certainly couldn’t tell him about the gambling, the debts, the times he drank to drown the urge to gamble away every cent he had in the bank; he couldn't tell him about the times he'd been banned from casinos for cheating, about the job as a Vegas croupier he’d been fired from, about the other not-so-clean jobs he’s still helping Alastor with.
And he certainly couldn’t tell him about the Accident.
He scratched his back instinctively, his left arm wrapped around his torso to reach between his shoulder blades.
He sighed, searching for his hazel gaze and lowering his arm again.
“Look, it’s better if we don’t–”
“Ah no, don’t start again with the better-not bullshit, I don’t want to drag you into my mess and blablablah.” Anthony mimicked him. “If you don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore because you’re not interested, just tell me and we’re good. But if as I believe you’re not totally indifferent to this –” he let his tone fade, raising his eyebrows a couple of times in a suggestive flicker at the bottom of his hazel eyes and a cheeky smile.
Henry instinctively slid to look at his mouth for a couple of moments, intent, climbing back into that gaze to find him right there, with the air of someone who had perfectly understood his thoughts.
A spider that had caught its prey, inside the web.
No, he wasn’t indifferent, not even by mistake.
Husk faltered, turning the sticky cup between his fingers, his amber eyes wandering absentmindedly around the playground – partly watching Caroline, partly focused on Anthony’s gaze firmly planted against his profile.
He was probably about to say something when the blond’s voice came to intrude into his thoughts.
“Let’s start with the phone number, hm?”
The cell phone. The one he could have asked him that morning and the one that will inevitably lead to what they had both fantasized about in different ways. The one that, Henry repeated to himself, would not be enough for him.
After at least ten seconds of silence and evaluation, tainted by the vague sense of drunk-guilt in having almost used Anthony and then left him aside without much explanation, he forced himself to sigh again; a slow, solemn breath as he took his cell phone from the pocket to unlock it and hold it out to the blond, who took it in a smile. His golden canine flashed.
“I’ll save mine and give myself a ring.”
The nail polished thumbs fiddled quickly with the screen, giggling slightly.
“What year is this thing, Husky?”
“Hey, it still works great.”
“Sure, with the crank. How the fuck do you navigate on social media so slowly?”
“I don’t.”
Anthony looked at him as if he had grown a third arm on his forehead.
“You don’t have any social accounts?”
Husk had the decency to mumble something and lower his eyes, grumpy again.
“..nder.”
“What?”
“I said, Tinder.”
The blond snickered, shaking his head as he finished saving his contact and made a call.
“So you’re so coy with me but you do like fucking.”
“Of course I like fucking, asshole.”
“Oh yeah, keep talking dirty, baby.” Anthony teased him again, ending the call and handing him the phone: the number saved as Tony, complete with a bright pink heart, appeared on the screen.
Husk stared at the nickname, curving a placid smile and raising his eyes to look for the blond – who was already staring at him with amusement.
“Tony?”
“Yup!” The blond nodded, getting up from the bench and stretching that lean and toned body.
Husk wondered if being so tall required much more stretching than usual, as he watched Anthony throw the now-melted ice cream cup into the trash can next to the bench and suck his fingers absentmindedly.
The indecent thought of that mouth busy sucking something else, along with the fact that this time he had a real number he could reach, threatened to give him a boner in a playground.
Totally inappropriate.
“Well, Husky.”
It was the other’s voice that called him back to reality.
Behave yourself Husker, how old are you, fifteen?
Anthony seemed to be programmed to screw up his hormones.
“It was really nice to see you again but I have to take my niece home. Anna!” He called the little girl. “Say goodbye to Caroline, we have to go.”
Anna ran back to them and was quickly caught by Anthony, who picked her up in his arms amid her amused giggles; a paternal sweetness, the same one he felt for Caroline – even if it was buried deep in his conscience – awoke in the pit of his stomach, as he slid down to look at his daughter still perched on the castle.
How many times had he been the one to pick her up like that? How many times, now, had Lidia’s new partner been the one who held her, who read her bedtime stories, who cut up what she couldn’t eat on her own yet?
Since when did you stop being a father, Husker?
“Bye-bye, Caroline's other dad.”
Since your daughter has another father.
The melancholy smile he gave Anna did not dampen that feeling of sweetness, merely staining it with regret for something he had perhaps lost along the way.
“Bye, Anna.”
For the umpteenth time, Anthony’s gaze flickered indecipherably – something Henry didn't want to name this time. After all, his conscience knew this all too well, right?
You’re just the same, fucking coward, Henry Husker.
“See you around, Husk.” Anthony greeted the other, giving him a flirtatious wink and curving a cheeky smile. Again. “For real this time.” and without any other words, making Anna bounce in his arms to settle her better, he set off.
He followed him with his gaze until they turned the corner, disappearing from the playground, his attention returning to Caroline – now forgetting about the last ice cream and focused on who-knows-what fantasy. He glanced at the time on the phone screen: twenty minutes or so before they said goodbye. Caroline would be back with her mother and he would be off to work.
It was a text notification – the ting! of someone who has never changed their ringtone – that drew his attention to the phone; at the top of the screen, Tony-bright-pink-heart wrote:
Tony 💖
ofc askin for ur number was all an excuse to get my tank top back
Husk chuckled softly, shaking his head and then taking another deep breath as he put his phone back in his pocket.
Life had kicked him several times but maybe, for once, he had been dealt a lucky hand.