Chapter Text
While uncommon for a demon to fall in love with a human, it was not impossible. It was how men discovered heavenly creations such as music and poetry; the fallen angels had shared these with them. This was not a hatred as with Eve and the Serpent, nor a curiosity like Molech and his worshippers. It was, in and of itself, a contradictory notion for the third of angels who fell along with Lucifer, but one that existed nonetheless.
Mahrviel, who had walked the Earth along with man for as long as they had occupied it, was tasked with masking demonic influence on Earth as that of the humans’ own decisions. Though he had scoured the Titanic, searched all those that stood by the sides of Hitler, and trailed humanity’s most devastating events, he could find no demonic part in it. While this made his job incredibly simple, it left him with a realization he had already unintentionally stumble upon the moment he stood up to his Creator: man did not need the help of devils to bring upon themselves great horror and destruction. Despite all his jealousy Mahrviel, who had adopted the name Marvin among the later centuries, discovered great loneliness in these creatures, too. Like him, they questioned their Creator, yearned for his love, and often found themselves abandoned by him.
He finds his own emotions mirrored in a man on a bench in the ramble one night. New York City’s central park at night was filled with gay men, each and every one of them an outcast like Marvin. He found himself at home amongst them and wandered the paths at night. He can hear their quiet moans and whispers as they fornicate ceaselessly – expressing what little they could in the face of such false claims made by their religious leaders. The man is cold, huddling into his brown leather coat, and he smells of alcohol. Marvin recognizes the stench of semen on his breath and tilts his head in curiosity. The man looks up at the sky and asks his Creator a question – why have you made my family, my friends, this world, hate me so much?
“God is not one to talk back, I’m afraid,” Marvin says. When he speaks his breath is not hot and steam doesn’t cloud his strong features. Demons ran extremely cold, hence the need for such large amounts of fire in hell. The word ‘God’ tastes bitter in his mouth and he resists the urge to spit the bitterness out on to the grass
“How did you know I was talking to him?” the man asks.
Marvin approaches him and takes his hand out of its pocket to point to the sky, “No other reason to look up at the sky with such frustration.”
“It’s late out. For a married man,” he remarks.
Marvin gazes down at the ring he wore – something which shielded him from the watch of Angels.
“I’m Marvin,” he says, taking a seat beside the other and stretching out his hand.
“Whizzer,” the man replies, gripping his hand firmly.
Marvin gets the sense that not a lot of men had asked Whizzer for his name by the way his cheeks blushed when he said it.
“What did you ask?”
“Hmm?” Whizzer hums, far too captivated with Marvin to really be paying attention to his words.
Marvin points to the sky again, “What did you ask?”
“Oh. I want a pony for Hannukah,” Whizzer laughs.
Marvin wants to place his hands upon the other and say: ‘I have watched your ancestors build pyramids with dirty water and dry bread in their stomachs, I have heard their victorious cries as they were freed, I have smelt their bodies as they toiled once again, and I have felt their endurance as they travelled across the seas to America to give birth to you. You are a child of lashes and famine and triumph. I have met your people as they died and I have walked beside them as they lived. You are standing on the backs of homosexuals, of bisexuals, of those with no gender and with two. Why is it you pity yourself? Why is it you allow such false testament to hurt you?’. Instead, he presses on.
“No, really.”
Whizzer shifts awkwardly, “My father kicked me out for being gay when I was a teen. I just gave a blowjob to a man who hadn’t washed his balls to buy a hotdog from 7-eleven. I can’t help but feel like God fucked me over, here.”
Marvin purses his lips, “That is not God’s doing. That is the flaws in humanity.”
“So, do you just get philosophical after 1 a.m., or what?” Whizzer says, flicking him a cheeky smile.
“You should see me at 2 a.m.,” he chirps, meeting Whizzer’s wit.
Whizzer seems to appreciate it and he travels a hand up Marvin’s inner thigh, “Do you wanna take me home?”
Marvin’s eyes glow softly in the dim light, to which Whizzer attributes the dull street lights to as an explanation.
“Follow me,” he says, taking Whizzer’s equally cold hand.
He can feel the warm glow of a bright, but already tainted soul. Passions of the body before marriage, and all that. Well, as far as Marvin could see, homosexual marriages weren’t becoming legal any time soon. The almighty Creator may just have to waver that one at the golden gates.