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"This is a piss-poor idea." Hastur grumbled, pinching his cigarette between two grimy fingers and offering it to Ligur. Ligur took it, holding it up to his lips. While he agreed with Hastur to a fault, as this was an angel he was about to strike a metaphorical deal with, and in general it was a poor idea for demons to have anything to do with angels, Ligur was still a more practical soul than Hastur.
Hastur tended to be a bit of a fanatic, which Ligur understood. He understood plenty of things about Hastur, moreso than anyone else in Hell. It was an occupational hazard, he supposed, after all, when two people worked closely together for a long time, they'd learn somethings about each other. Even demons. Of course, there was also the notion that Ligur had learned so much about Hastur because he had wanted to learn.
In any case, Ligur understood Hastur's suspicions. Ligur was quite suspicious himself. One miserable day in Hell, in the aftermath of a celebration in the honor of some heinous crime or the other, he had dragged himself to the desk he and Hastur shared and had found a letter waiting for him. It was in a pure white envelope, sealed by a dollop of pure white wax imprinted in gold with the image of butterfly.
Ligur broke the seal and pulled out the sheet of paper within, and read the gold lettering on it.
"To whom it may concern," the letter began, "it has come to my attention that it would be advantageous to posses a contact on the other side, if you will forgive the pun. I believe the occasional exchange of information will be mutually beneficial in the future. If the receiver of this letter is amiable to creating a conduit through which this exchange could take place, I will be available to discuss it at the following coordinates." the following lines indicated a meeting place on Earth. Ligur read them, then sat on the desk and indulged in a bit of intense brooding.
"Wot have you got there?" Hastur's gruff voice interrupted his thoughts sometime later. Hastur was staring over Ligur's shoulder at the letter, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Without a second thought, Ligur passed the letter over his shoulder to Hastur, who read it, mumbling the words to himself. "This is rubbish." Hastur said when he finished.
"I'm going to go." Ligur said, reaching behind him and taking the letter from Hastur.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Hastur exclaimed, sputtering. "It's a bloody trap!"
"Could be useful if its not." Ligur reasoned, haphazardly folding the letter back up and shoving it into its envelope. He flipped the flap down, displaying the wax seal he had manged not break. "This is the archangel Michael's seal, she sent this." Ligur went on. "One of Heaven's best is going against the rules."
Hastur grunted, considering the implications of this. "I'm goin' with you." he finally said. "Gotta see it for myself." he added hastily, as if he were trying to amend a slip-up in speech that had revealed something he otherwise didn't want revealed. Ligur shrugged.
"Suit yerself." he said.
And that was how the two had found themselves standing in a dreary corner of rural England on a bitterly cold day, sharing a cigarette and waiting for an angel to appear.
Michael materialized at the same moment that the cigarette had fulfilled its life expectancy. Ligur dropped the stub, grinding it under his boot. He was aware of Hastur's presence at his elbow, like a living shadow of sorts. Although, Hastur really had no reason to be that close, Ligur didn't mind much. Or at all, really. Hastur had always had a tendency to stand close, that had developed sometime during the last ice age. And Ligur had a tendency to never move away.
Michael's eyes skirted over the pair, taking them in with cool efficiency. They were both more and less than she had thought would come. At the worst, an entire army of demons might be waiting to ambush her, and at the best, no one would come at all, thinking it was a trap.
But since they were here, there was no turning back.
"You came. You must have found my letter then." she observed, waiting for one of them to speak.
"I got your letter." Ligur said, pulling the letter from his coat and displaying it. "Why did you send it to me?"
"I didn't send it to you." Michael said. "I sent it down at random, and hoped someone would find it. If I were to send an official post, your superiors would know about it."
Ligur replaced the letter in his coat. "So, what do you want? You mentioned swappin' information in your pretty little letter."
Michael took a step closer. She was wearing a beige tweed coat to shield against the cold, and had both hands tucked into her pockets. "That is correct. I want to establish a...back channel, if you will."
"What for?" Ligur asked tersely.
"For any situation that may arise in the future that requires unofficial cooperation."
Ligur considered this for a moment. "So what's your angle?"
"I have only the best interests of my side in mind." Michael said.
"And our side?" Ligur cut in.
"Your side won't be in any danger from this...involvement. I'm not trying to spy." Michael explained patiently.
Ligur scoffed, his eyes changing to a bright yellow. "Can I trust you?" he asked.
Michael had every right in the world to answer that question in a patronizing tone, but she did not. After all, she had come to him, and even if he was a demon...well, even they should not be disrespected needlessly.
"Of course you can trust me, I'm an angel." Michael said, and her voice was even, the voice of someone simply stating a fact with no boast behind it.
Ligur blinked, his eyes reverting to deeper color. Under the cloudy sky, they looked gold for almost a moment. "Right then. How do I get in touch with you?"
Michael drew something from her pocket and went forward a few steps...and Hastur's arm had snaked around Ligur's waist, fingers clutching at his jacket, pulling him back, a growl erupting from his throat.
Michael paused mid-step. That was unprecedented. Demons had every reason to be scared of angels, but for a demon to protect another...she took a moment to examine their closeness with new perspective. Hastur still had his arm around Ligur, his black eyes staring out at her baefully. His eyes were also wary, which was not surprising, but it was not a wariness on his behalf. Ligur was not protesting in any way, Michael could have sworn he was leaning back against Hastur...
...And, oh, oh, oh. Michael had not even thought what she was seeing to be possible, yet, here it was. She cleared her throat, cramming the fierce buzzing in her mind into a a dark corner, and held out a slip of paper with a number inked onto it in her thin handwriting.
Ligur shrugged Hastur off, reaching out and whisking the paper from Michael's fingers. "That's the number we'll use. Memorize it, then burn that paper." Michael said. "Burn the letter too, just to be safe." she added.
The order to burn the papers opened a new train of thought to Ligur. "What if we're found out?" behind him, Hastur tensed, his glower growing darker.
"We won't be found out." Michael said.
Years, years, later, Ligur had asked her the same question. It was a fine spring day, and they were on Earth, by the shore of a desolate lake. Michael was laying on her side on the foamy grass, atop Ligur's coat, with her head resting against his leg. Ligur himself was propped up with his back to a tree, watching Hastur who was a little ways off, wading fully clothed in the shallows of the lake.
Ligur's hand passed over Michael's hair, and her eyes fluttered closed at the touch. "What if we're found out?" he said, in so low a voice that Michael nearly didn't hear him. But she did, and she took a moment to think about it.
The idea had been Michael's, not Ligur's. So if her...less than savory connections were ever brought to light, she would be the one to take responsibility. But not to protect Ligur, no, of course not.
She would take responsibility because it was the right thing to, and she was an angel. Her very existence was predominately occupied by doing the right thing. She had explained this to Ligur, who had only smiled in his slow, crafty way, his eyes betraying that he didn't believe a word of it.
"If you say so." he said. Hastur was making his way back to them, soaked from the waist down. Michael opened her eyes a crack. "You should really take your clothes off for that." she advised.
"Pervert." Hastur hissed,with the affronted dignity of a traditional old granny, and dripped on by. Ligur burst into laughter, his shoulders shaking. Michael's eyes shut again, a smile tugging at her lips.
If it came to it, she would do that right thing. But what the right thing was, she could not say, but she did know it would never include stolen visits to remote lakes, the feel of Ligur's strangely gentle fingers through her hair, and Hastur's half-hearted snarls of indignation.
She was an angel, but for a moment, just a moment, she did not want to do the right thing.