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grip real tight

Summary:

When ze were working on the secondaries on the left wing, ze felt something weird and hard. “I think you’ve got a rock or something right here-” Ze pulled it out. It was a coin.

“Gabriel, this hazz Nero’s face on it.” Ze said disapprovingly.

“I told you it’s been a long time.”

Notes:

another case of the "stayed up all night because i had an idea and now its 8 am and life is meaningless" anyways.

the title lyric is from 'not that kind of girl' by mcr which 1. SLAPS and 2. i feel describes gabriel and beelzebubs relationship pretty well

i wanted to read a nice wingfic w gabriel and beelzebub but theres only like. 5 of them and all of them are kind of sexual and i was like. "i guess i have to be the change i want to see in the world" so this is the product of that. i have no idea how wings work, only second hand knowledge from reading other wing fics and looking at a few anatomical diagrams.

so. yeah. follow me on tumblr @ohnostalgia

thank you,
steph

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

After the Not-pocalypse, Gabriel and Beelzebub were doing this thing humans might call dating.

Personally, Gabriel wouldn't have called it anything, because he didn’t want to draw attention to it. And Beelzebub might’ve called it courting, because zir vocabulary was still in the seventeenth century sometimes.

Basically, you can only go so many centuries exchanging letters (that eventually became phone calls) about your common goals without falling in love.

It’s not like it was serious. It’s not like Gabriel bought a human living space just for the purpose of meeting with his demon (which was definitely not a thing he called zir in his head) or anything.

Except, lying was a sin, so, if you did hypothetically ask Gabriel if he had done that, he would have no choice but to say yes.

Gabriel still did spend most of his time in heaven with his administrative duties, but now that the war was off, there was only so many things for him to do. He found himself lounging on Earth in his apartment, more often than not.

It was a nice one. A loft in New York City. This apartment was optimal because of two reasons:

1. Far, far away from (the traitor) Aziraphale and (the traitor) Crowley
2. Close enough to the New Jersey Turnpike (the closest portal to hell)

If Gabriel ever had to see Aziraphale or Crowley ever again, he’d probably go ape shit and kill one or both of them, out of rage. And he concluded that the Almighty probably wouldn’t like that.

Although, he didn’t know if the Almighty would really approve of what was going on currently, the reason the proximity to the Portal of Hell was important: his relationship with Beelzebub.

Right now, it was late, and they were chatting over some alcohol (Beelzebub was knowledgeable about this sort of thing- Gabriel wasn’t. All alcohol was just alcohol to him. He happened to be drinking Whiskey.) discussing what an angel and a demon would discuss; sharing their frustrations over all of their hard work being squandered (a popular topic), chatting about co-workers (“You would not believe what Michael did last week!”), stuff like that.

“I wuzz thinking...” Beelzebub said, not looking at Gabriel. Zir eyes were focused on zeir drink (which ze could actually identify as a bloody mary) which ze slightly sloshed around in zeir hand, a drop never spilling. “I’ve never seen your wings before, and I-I’m sorry if this izz forward, but I feel like we’ve gotten to a place where I can azzzk to see them?”

Gabriel blushed just a little, and he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He then nodded, and wordlessly unfurled his wings from another plane of existence.

Gabriel had six wings, radiating heavenly light. They were vast, and powerful. At the tips, they were pale orange, which faded into an iridescent brownish-blue, which then led into deckled black and white feathers. They ended in bright green feathers, which were only present right where the wings sprouted from his back.

“You’ve got peacock wingzz.” Beelzebub said, stunned by the light.

“No,” Gabriel corrected, “Peacocks have Gabriel wings. I had them first.”

As the light started retreating, Beelzebub seemed less impressed. “They’re very mezzzy.” Ze said.

“Well, I don’t have them out a lot. Last time was… 0 A.D., if I remember correctly. Annunciating. Mary, real nice girl.” He said smugly. “N’ I think grooming them promotes vanity or something.” He was maybe a little tipsy.

“Well,” Beelzebub said decidedly, “What if I did it? Groomed them, I mean. Would that line up with your moral codezz?” Ze said.

Gabriel’s eyes drooped and he grinned. “I don’t have a moral code when I’m with you,” he said. Then he seemed to look away, flushed.

“I wonder if this is how Aziraphale feels.” He said. “When I’m with you, I understand why they didn’t want the world to end.”

Beelzebub nodded, and then raised a hesitant hand to begin carding through Gabriel’s feathers. Ze interpreted Gabriel’s gentle lean forward as permission granted.

Ze began with the bottom pair of wings, which were the smallest. They started from the small of Gabriel’s back and drooped down to his butt. They perked up when Beelzebub began running zir fingers along the base of the right wing, gently massaging the muscle and fluffing up the down feathers in the process.

Ze slowly slicked zir fingers in oil and, gaining confidence, quickly made work of the secondaries and primaries. Then ze started on the left wing, very much repeating the process.

“Is grooming not a social thing in heaven anymore?” Beelzebub asked. “Because we do it a lot, down stairs.”

“It never has been.” Gabriel answered. “We’re very busy.”

“Oh.” Beelzebub said. “I guess I've juzzt been doing it so long, I assumed…” Ze sounded a little sad. “Same stock, after all.”

Now ze were on to the next pair up, the biggest pair. They were perfectly perched right between his shoulder blades. Beelzebub again started rhythmically making zir way through his feathers, smoothing them out and making sure they lined up just so.

When ze were working on the secondaries on the left wing, ze felt something weird and hard. “I think you’ve got a rock or something right here-” Ze pulled it out. It was a coin.

“Gabriel, this hazz Nero’s face on it.” Ze said disapprovingly.

“I told you it’s been a long time.”

Beelzebub smiled softly and kept working. After a few minutes, it was onto the last pair of wings, which sprouted at the nape of Gabriel’s neck and went up, framing his face.

Ze really had to reach to get to them, so Gabriel resigned himself to lay down on the counter while ze worked over him. “Your corporation is needlessly tall.” Beelzebub recalls having said a night or two ago. Ze were really feeling that now. (Ze can also recall Gabriel’s response to that being something along the lines of “And I think your hair is kind of dumb, but we can work past our disagreements.”)

Beelzebub was now just finishing up, going over areas for a second time that were still a little wayward, and just making sure everything was straight.

Ze paused, then drew zir hand back. “You really should take better care of yourself.” Ze said, gently. “It’z not like you to neglect something like this.”

“And it’z not like you’ll alwayzz have me to do it for you.” Ze continued.

Which was incorrect.

A few months out from this night, a petite androgynous demon with a speech inpediment wearing fishnet socks could be seen moving zir things into the apartment.

Notes:

note on gabey babys wings: i noticed a little trend in some iconography of archangel gabriel was having peacock feather wings. so i was basically like, "thats cool what if it were actually peacocks wings?" because gabriel WOULD BE that bitch. i also gave him six wings because he is extra and a capital-a-archangel, so he deserves them.

he isnt a seraph, just a little bitch.