Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

October 30th – present

Anthony Scavo tossed and turned in bed for the hundredth time that day, feeling like the mattress was stuffed with nails. A feeling he’d had since about last Sunday, when Henry had rejected him. No, not exactly: dumped him.

Dumped. Him.

Now, to theoretically get dumped you first had to have some kind of established relationship, right? A couple of spectacular fucks – plus an almost-blowjob – didn’t make a relationship.

As his eyes followed a dusty shaft of sunlight filtering through the curtains, Anthony thought with a bitter laugh that he and Henry had done everything backwards: sex first, dating second. To be honest, they hadn’t even gotten to that point, because apparently the night at the diner had been one big, beautiful hallucination.

What kind of person says those kinds of things and then simply disappears?

Anthony had spent the next three days, after being practically ghosted, systematically killing the butterflies in his stomach.

Lying half naked in bed with the feral desire to have a joint and a wank, not necessarily in that order, he was torn between considering the discomfort in his stomach as hunger pangs – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten – or the result of the bloody battle he’d waged against those damned butterflies.

He had used the big guns.

In hindsight, calling Valentino and asking him out had been a terrible, terrible idea; for so many different reasons, the same ones that had led him to hide this impulsive Sunday afternoon choice from Charlie during their session on Tuesday.

He certainly couldn’t tell her that Valentino had picked him up – a block away from Molly’s house, who would surely have looked at him in that judging way – to take him out.

He couldn’t tell her that he had got fucked in the back of a tacky white limo – “It’s Vox’s, see?” – or that he had sucked Val’s dick imagining with all his heart it was Henry’s. To be fair, Husk would never have thrust like that, nor would he have purposely cut off his breath by squeezing his throat while he fucked him from behind – breathless, ass up, cheek pressed against the window.

Anthony absentmindedly rubbed his neck, where he had covered a necklace of fairly faded bruises with a scarf; in October he had been perfectly normal, even though Charlie had stared at him in a patient sigh and had written something in her damn notebook.

Sometimes he just wanted to take it and tear out all the pages to make rolling papers out of them.

The creeping feeling of having flushed his sobriety token gnawed at his conscience, even though he had technically done nothing.

… Right?

Keep telling yourself that, Tony.

Anthony pressed the pillow to his face, growling an exasperated sigh into it and stomping his feet on the mattress.

Damn Henry Husker, his cock, his eyes, his hands.

Damn his kindness, his smile, his gruff calmness.

Damn the fucking butterflies.

The blond remained like that, lying on his back with the pillow pressed to his face, listening to the New York afternoon swarming outside the windows.

The phone buzzing – not a call but the alarm telling him it was almost 4pm – made him whine yet another annoyed sound, muffled by the pillow still pressed to his face.

With immense maturity, he blindly reached out with his left hand to turn off said alarm and roll over onto his side, determined to ignore what he was supposed to do: get up, make himself decent, and go to work.

The mere thought of getting in the shower – Henry’s hand pressed against the wet glass, the other gripping his ass as he fucked him again that morning, bent over, and their reflection in the fogged-up mirror of Husk’s tiny bathroom – made him sigh yet again.

“When will you stop being a fucking drama queen?”

He wasn’t sure it had just been a thought.

The phone buzzed again, buried in the sheets. Still on his back, Anthony twisted the neck to rest the cheek on the mattress and peer at what was now definitely a call.

He swallowed down the stupid spark of hope that it could be Henry when he saw Molly’s name on the screen – which, truth be told, made him growl again in the perfect picture of exasperation.

He sat up in a swoop, hugging the pillow, pressing the phone to his ear and answering the call with a very unfriendly “What.”

The initial silence on the other end of the call made him feel guilty.

“… Guess I’m bothering you, Tony?”

“Sorry, Molls, I’ve had— ” he tried to find the best way to keep it vague. “Some really awful days.”

“The date didn’t go well?”

Oh yeah, there was this tiny detail: he hadn’t exactly told Molly that Husk had apparently dumped him, ghosted him for sure. He couldn’t stand the pity in his sister’s eyes, not for the umpteenth time that Anthony had a crush on someone and that the mentioned someone ended up being just another asshole.

“No, it was good.” Lying came so easily to him. “It’s the job that could be better.”

His sister’s sigh had him lying back down on the bed, sinking softly into the mattress as he listened to her repeat what Charlie told him all the time: that he had to find a new job, that he couldn’t keep taking orders from Valentino, etc. etc.

“Besides, wouldn’t you rather just focus on Fat Nuggets and the other dogs?” Molly pointed out, in his ear. “Since you gave him away, his family has always said they would be happy to give him back to you when you were feeling better.”

Fat Nuggets was another chapter of his life that Valentino had taken, forced into their narrative and then forgotten as if it were yet another accessory he had grown tired of; the little chihuahua had been part of Valentino’s love bombing strategy, a special gift after they had had a very special fight.

One of the first times Val had really hurt him.

The next day, on the set of the movie that Anthony had finally agreed to shoot after the aforementioned fight, in a shoebox Tony had found this long-haired, cream-colored ball of fluff, no bigger than his hand, with a pink bow around his neck and a handwritten note from Valentino himself telling him how much he loved him and that this was another way to be a family.

A family.

Anthony’s breath hitched every time he thought about that possibility and that conversation, partly with relief because it had never actually happened, partly with all the bitterness and shame of someone who in that moment, choosing the puppy’s name, had truly believed that.

Fat Nuggets had quickly become an ancillary presence for Valentino, who tolerated him around Anthony without paying him much attention; he even found it annoying when he witnessed the fights between them – Nuggsie never liked hearing people scream.

On the day of the Halloween party where he had overdosed, Molly had gone to pick Fat Nuggets up from Tony’s apartment and had looked after him for a few days, even though she couldn’t really keep him.

During his time in rehab, Anthony had made the painful decision to foster him with a family that could look after him much better than he ever had.

That was how he had started dog-sitting: with his own dog.

“Yeah I know Molly, you’re right.” One of the ways to get her sister to stop talking was to agree with her. “I should.”

The conversation with Husk in that diner, the cheesy jukebox music they’d danced to, the first time he’d actually considered taking up photography again in years.

“Look, I’ve to get to work.” He tried to ignore the fluttering in the pit of his stomach, returning to his conversation with his sister and sitting back up again.

Damn the fucking butterflies.

“Can we come with you? Anna gets out of school in twenty minutes and I’m off work today.”

And a fucking farewell to his plan to call Fat Nuggets’ family and call in sick.

“… Sure.”

Anna’s new favorite game was bouncing pebbles off the surface of the Central Park South pond, the one from which ducks had started disappearing to begin their migration to warmer countries. By the time it would freeze over and the pond would become a skating rink, they would have already been far away.

Now, on Halloween’s eve, there were only a few lazy latecomers and some nests full of feathers hidden here and there in the reeds on the bank; the same bank where he, Molly, Anna and the three dogs he had to take care of that afternoon – Fat Nuggets included – were.

Anthony adjusted his purple wool scarf around his neck, more for the need to hide the bruises than for actual cold, taking another sip of his Pumpkin Spice Latte in tune with the spooky theme of the upcoming party the next day. Party that he, unlike last year, would spend with Anna trick-or-treating.

No excess, if you didn’t count the amount of sugar he would have ingested.

“One day you’ll explain to me where you get all these dog clothes.”

He smiled in his Latte and stopped looking at Anna to slide down to stare at Molly, who was crouched on the ground and busy scratching Fat Nuggets’ ears; tucked into an orange and black dress, with a skirt, also perfectly suited to Halloween.

“Lovely, isn’t he?”

Molly giggled softly, standing up and letting go of the chihuahua, who went back to sniffing around with the other two walking companions: today, a red Pomeranian and a black poodle.

“He definitely stands out.” she commented, taking back her coffee and thanking her brother with a nod. Unlike him, Molly had always remained much more ‘Italian’ in terms of taste, and she considered those sugary drinks a sort of blasphemy.

Anthony snorted a half laugh, which became a puff of smoke in the late afternoon air – the sun was now almost setting, behind the canopies of the trees of Central Park.

“Sour grapes much, hm?”

“Probably, yeah.”

Molly’s smile made him feel a little better.

After a shower, the subway ride and the appointment with Molly outside Anna’s school, he felt much better. Starbucks and Fat Nuggets had also contributed, of course.

He crouched down too to pet the chihuahua, who happily put his front paws on his black over-the-knee stockings and started wagging his tail, rustling the tulle skirt of the dress.

“We’ll buy Auntie Molly a dress like yours, right Nuggsie?”

“Caroline’s other dad!”

Anthony nearly choked on his own saliva as Anna’s naive, adorable little voice informed him, Molly, and pretty much everyone else on the bank that the last person he wanted to see was coming.

At that moment, under those circumstances, in that particular situation.

He yanked his hazel eyes in that direction to focus on the silhouette of a man who was probably thinking the exact same thing.

Ohsshit.

“Oh, so that’s Husk?”

Molly’s equally naive question was the cherry on top that reminded him that technically he and Henry hadn’t spoken since last Sunday because he’d been ghosted without explanation. Having a terrified expression didn’t help fuel his beautiful, ribbon-wrapped lie of a date gone well.

There was only one way to get out of this unscathed.

Anthony plastered a smile on his face, slipping into Angel Dust’s shoes – the sfw version, given the context – and getting back on his feet.

“Yep, that’s him!” maybe his tone had come out a little higher than expected. “I’ll go say hello and then I’ll introduce you to him, wait for me.”

Let’s say that the way he placed the leashes in his sister’s hand, finished his Latte in one gulp and marched towards Husk – who in the meantime had stopped dead in his tracks, still with the phone glued to his ear and looking like a deer dazzled by the headlights of a car – perhaps it could have pass for enthusiasm.

Maybe, with a little imagination.

Ok, a lot of imagination.

Anthony waited until he was practically in front of Henry to look him up and down – the height difference was still the same, even considering the usual Docs with the fuchsia laces – and crook a smirk that dripped with venom.

“So, apparently your phone works, asshole.”

How to not start a friendly conversation, volume one.

Henry had the decency to blush a little on his ears, as he hung up the phone without even saying ‘goodbye’ to whoever was on the other end and scratched the back of his neck in the universal gesture of embarrassment.

If he hadn’t been so pissed, Anthony would have found him ador—

Wait a minute.

He narrowed his gaze, looking more intently at him.

“Is that a black eye?”

The question caught the other off guard, as the hand that had been on the back of his neck moved to his cheekbone and the bruise on it.

“Oh, right.” as if he’d forgotten.

“Right.” Anthony repeated, letting out a half-laugh that sounded more like hissing than anything else. “What, you stood me up ’cause you got into a fight on Sunday and were in the hospital?”

“I don’t—”

“Think carefully, I’m really tempted to give you another one.”

Henry quickly closed his mouth, then slid a little to stare over Anthony’s shoulder.

“… There’s your niece coming over with a woman who looks just like you who I assume is your sister.”

Great.

Anthony – or rather, Angel Dust – plastered yet another smile on his face, empty but definitely believable.

“Play along and then you can tell me your pathetic excuse.”

“Play al—”

Husk never finished that question because the blond grabbed the collar of his coat with both hands – black, wool, rather dapper looking and so fucking sexy – and tugged him a little closer, to hiss another threat.

“We had a wonderful Sunday afternoon, okay?”

Henry blinked a couple of times, an indecipherable flicker that crept into the depths of his amber eyes and that Tony chose to interpret as guilt; he felt that taste directly on the pierced tongue.

He let him go in what looked more like a caress than a sort of tug, putting on that absolutely empty smile and turning towards Molly and Anna who had now arrived.

“So you’re the father of Anna’s friend,” the twin greeted him, with a big smile, holding out her hand. “I’m Molly, nice to meet you! Tony told me about you.”

Anthony prayed to whoever could listen to him to produce a trap door in which he could have sunk to disappear in that very moment.

Husk glanced at him, sideways, before turning back to the blonde and smiling at her in that barely-there way that made him want to kiss him.

Damn the fucking butterflies.

“Pleasure.”

“I would have offered you a coffee last Sunday, but Tony said you’d rather pick him up somewhere else.”

Oh no.

“Yeah, well—” he barged in, placing an arm across Henry’s shoulders and accentuating that absolutely fake smile. “Husky was already on his way elsewhere, I told him not to take the long way around.”

Henry remained silent, still staring at him from below – there was a question that made a lot of noise, in that amber gaze, but he remained faithful to the threat: he played along and simply nodded vaguely, returning to look at Molly, who nodded too.

“Sure, next time then.”

“Can Caroline come trick-or-treating tomorrow?”

Now was Anna’s turn to make things even more embarrassing.

Molly smiled, caressing her daughter’s blonde head and seeking Henry’s gaze.

“I bet the girls would both be very happy if you guys went with them.” he proposed, while Anthony felt the ground giving way under his feet. “Tony has already offered to escort Anna, you know?” this clarification was all made in the Scavo Family.

Not really rhetorical, most threatening.

Anthony cleared his throat, with studied nonchalance, taking his arm from the other’s shoulders.

“Molls, I’m sure Henry has better things to do on Hall—”

“Sure.”

Wait another fucking minute.

As Molly smiled again and thanked Henry – urging Anna to do the same – Anthony couldn’t help but stare at the man’s profile and try to associate that word with the feeling that once again made a bunch of butterflies bloom in his stomach.

It didn’t matter how many he had killed.

That amber gaze that had slipped to look at him with a silent nod and a slightly melancholy smile was enough; it was enough his greeting, his ‘I really have to go now’ and another look in which Anthony could have shouted a lot of insults and instead he had only been able to mutter a rather confused ‘see you tomorrow’ while watching him walk away headed who knows where.

Molly’s elbow right in the ribs was enough too.

“You didn’t tell me he's so hot.”

Angel Dust disappeared from his smile in a butterfly’s flutter.

Tony 💖
hey. if u don't feel like coming 2morrow i get it, nw

Husk The DILF
When I said ‘sure’, I meant it.

Tony 💖
y?

Husk The DILF
‘Cause I want to make up for acting like an ass.

Tony 💖
oh so cause ya feel guilty??

Husk The DILF
I'm doing it because I want to see you.

Tony 💖
and ya didn't feel like it on sun?

Husk The DILF
Sunday was a bad day.

Tony 💖
um. i’m gonna need a little more details
[…]
like wtf is that black eye

Husk The DILF
We'll talk about it tomorrow. Promise.

Tony 💖
kay.
[...]
find a nice costume husky, i’ll start forgiving ya with that ~
cya 2morrow

Husk The DILF
See ya. Goodnight, Tony.