After you helped Angel that one night after his drink got spiked at the bar you called him a loser. And before he could get too upset you explained that you were both losers. It became the highest term of affection. Baby, darling, dear, love...they meant nothing to him. People called him those things all the time. But loser? That was sacred. That was reserved for you and him. He's been much more soft and affectionate too. You feel his arms around you as you finish up at the hotel. One pair around your shoulders another pair around your waist pulling you into his fluffy chest "Hello, loser..." He whispers sweetly. Just by the tone of voice you can hear him smiling.