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Dean shot up out of a nightmare, unable to control his yell. Sweat streaked his forehead. When his breath slowed a little more, he looked around their room. Empty.
Still drowsy, he padded into the kitchen, subconsciously cataloging every sight and sound along the way. The kitchen was where the drinks were. Yet, it was where Cassiel was not. The house they rented for a month did not have a ton of floor space, and besides the sitting room, there was little where else they could be.
The feeling that something was “off” about South Downs did not escape Dean, from the very moment they entered the town. Cass had helpfully pointed out that their partner said the same thing upon landing at Heathrow a week before. The plane ride was tedious, to say the least.
“Cass?” The amber drink barely moved within the glass as Dean turned and listened.
Light chatter. Out front. Two male voices. One of them Cass’. Who could the Angel possibly be talking to at this hour? Dean quickly checked that he still wore his hard-won Angel Blade around his wrist, and sipped thoughtfully.
The life-long hunter, feared in any circle he stepped into, and plenty he didn’t, calmly made his way out to the scene. He took his drink with him.
A man stood on the other side of the fence. He looked rich, and bookish, right down to his brown herringbone coat and large scarf. A bit overkill, since Dean was still in his pajamas and felt fine. He looked Dean’s way and smiled without any apparent coldness. Or mirth.
Cass turned and appraised their human, unsurprised by the light stalking mode he was in.
“Dean. This is Azra, he lives here in town. Azra, my husband Dean.”
“Good evening, Dean, and a pleasure to meet you. Cassiel has been saying such lovely things.”
Dean grinned, eyebrows raised. He turned to Cass and only said, “Lovely, huh?”
Cass wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I knew Azra several hundred years ago, when I was a soldier. I didn’t make it down here much at the time, but when I got into trouble with certain occult forces, Azra was kind enough to heal and shelter me. He saved many lives over the years. Humans included.”
So, Angel.
“You make it sound so fantastic, Cassiel.” Azra flustered.
Wanting to prod for more revealing information, mostly on Azra’s character, Dean asked cordially, “It’s not?”
“Oh, thank you, dear boy. That’s very kind. Say, if you’re not otherwise engaged, why don’t you both come for tea tomorrow? Three o’clock? Anthony will be home. My husband. He’d be delighted for the company, really.”
That did not go as expected. He seemed genuine. Dean trusted him less.
“Yeah, you bet. Which house is yours?”
***
Azra let the door close behind him, and locked it with a jovial hum on his lips. After hanging up his outside clothes, he went to organize the house for the next day.
That Dean. Cassiel mentioned his life of hunting, yet it felt a bit jilting to be regarded like such a target. The man only seemed sedate on the outside. Azra could clearly see that a dark animal lurked within him, waiting for an opening to strike. Quite a choice, though, for Cassiel was a soldier by birth. He didn’t want trouble, so he firmly pushed aside the thought that perhaps Dean wasn’t all the way human.
Anthony liked to sleep for hours at night, when Azra busied himself with cooking, or taking a walk. But the Angel felt like taking a nap beside his husband tonight. They finally had the hang of semi quietude, bless it.
He tried to be gentle, getting into bed. Anthony turned his way, tongue flicking out on instinct. Sighing happily, Azra made himself comfortable in his space, and then made himself comfortable holding Anthony. His husband let out a surprised noise and reached back, still sleeping. Azra kissed his forehead, his nose.
The languid Demon blinked opened his eyes. Their gold faintly shone of their own light, but one wouldn’t ever notice, unless one happened to meet those eyes in the darkest shadows. They were the most beautiful things Azra had ever seen.
Moments eased by them. There weren’t clocks in the house, but neither would be of mind to hear them just then.
Eventually, Anthony breathed out, “Angel.”
Azra’s whole self beamed. “Anthony. Happy Lupercalia, my love.”
A soft snicker. “Valentine’s, angel. Although, I like your idea much, much better.”
The Demon closed his eyes and slithered closer, connecting a hungry mouth to the Angel’s. The event of the night could wait; the early morning hours were theirs to be pleased with.
***
Dean swallowed his drink, much more tense than he wanted to be. This was supposed to be a vacation.
Cass peered at him, trying to decide what to say. Dean spoke first.
“Did you know he was here?” He tried not to make it sound like an accusation, but his partner didn’t hear it.
“He’s been in this country for a long time, Dean. I can’t keep track of every Angel on Earth, so no, I did not know he lived here.”
The Hunter sighed, and placed his glass on the kitchen counter a moment before refilling it.
“Told you something was off about this place.”
“Why were you awake tonight?”
That gave Dean pause. He ran it over in his head.
“Nightmare.” He lifted his glass in sardonic cheers. “Came to get a drink, heard you outside.”
“So it wasn’t because you sensed danger.”
Cass’ partner gave them The Look. They weren’t moved, and continued getting to what they really needed to tell him about tomorrow. About Azra’s situation. He wasn’t going to like it.
“Dean, Azra is an upstanding being, at the price of Heaven turning against him.”
Dean’s gaze flitted downward.
Cass continued, evenly as ever, “He keeps excellent company, and you know I am telling the truth about Anthony, because…”
“Because what?”
“Because Anthony is a Demon.”
There it was, the lightning, flowing through him, preparing him for battle.
“You can’t seriously expect me to trust him, Cass. Either of them. He married a Demon?”
Cassiel walked up and faced him squarely, until they could feel Dean’s breath hot on their face. Light fixtures in the room threatened to break under the pure current coming from the Angel. Dean stood still.
“I am seriously expecting you to trust me, Dean Winchester, and if you cannot then you will be civil.”
A smirk finally broke his cool composure.
“Fuck you’re hot.”
The entire universe was threatening their patience.
Dean relented, “Okay, okay. We’ll go uh, have tea, and I won’t embarrass you in front of your friend.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. I do. Easy as pie.”
Cass blinked. “You can’t make pie yourself.”
“Shut up, Cass.”
***
Anthony was not delighted for the company, even with the expensive coffee, made just the way he liked it.
“Have you completely lost it, angel? Bringing Cassiel, a Power, as well as a blessed Hunter, here? To our home, that we’re finally finding some peace in?”
“I know how it sounds, love, but Cassiel has expressed his distaste in Heavenly politics, as well as his appreciation for humanity. Despite their status, I felt it safe enough.”
Not able to be persuaded so easily, the Demon sat back in silence and crossed his arms. He’d met Cassiel long ago— it took considerable measure for Azra to persuade them not to smite him off the face of the planet, even after he’d injured them. In a well hidden place, Anthony helped to heal Cassiel of the wounds he caused them, and hesitantly tried to figure out why their own company had abandoned them. The Angel had been stubborn, but did not move to strike Anthony again. The two Angels parted on good terms, and with him completely neutral ones.
“Alright,” he said quietly, and sipped his coffee.
Azra stared for a moment.
“Really?”
“Yeah, angel. I can deal with Cassiel, so what’s one human to us?”
The Angel tried not to think about it, and busied himself with placing his chosen recipes on the kitchen table. His hesitation didn’t escape Anthony, but he let it alone for a later time.
***
Dining table set for the afternoon, complete with food and fine dishes, Azra simply had to wait until their guests arrived.
Anthony lounged on the living room chaise, dressed sharply per personal pride. Infernal Fire flared on and off from his opening and closing hand. It sparkled in the reflection of his dark glasses. He waited.
Soon, however, the perimeter line tripped Anthony’s senses with an Angel, and— that definitely was no human. He appeared immediately by Azra’s side and told him what he felt right before they heard a knock on the door.
Azra flustered and went to answer it.
“Ah, Cassiel, Dean, welcome. Do come in.”
“Thank you, Azra.”
Dean nodded, “Thanks,” and smiled briefly as they walked in.
They all found Anthony in the living room, gazing into a roaring fireplace that wasn’t there five minutes ago. Azra bit back his exasperated sigh.
Anthony had his hands comfortably in his pockets. The curtains had been pulled to dim the room. He turned gracefully and faced his company.
“This is my husband, Anthony Crowley. Anthony, Cassiel and Dean Winchester.”
“Oh, angel, you didn’t tell me it was Dean blessed Winchester.” Anthony whistled low.
“Anthony, please.”
Dean grinned slowly. “Nah, it’s alright,” he drawled, looking only at Anthony. “I’m used to it. Didn’t know I’d be in the presence of a Crowley. Is there a club I don’t know about?”
A smile that was subtly too wide met his. “Crow-ley,” he corrected. “And they only wished they were me. I invented the name, literally.” Smug.
Loaded silence.
“It’s true,” Cass piped up. “He was the first with that name. Also, he’s been known to instigate chaos in humanity throughout history.”
“I’ve seen scarier.”
“Pretty scary yourself, Dean, aren’t you?”
Dean took the challenge to move forward. He eased up to the fireplace and peered into it.
“Depends.”
Anthony turned and considered him. Fallen Angels were Demons that twisted-human-soul Demons got their names from, like parents who name all their children after them. More importantly, Fallen Angels were still able to see a being’s true face. Azra must have been too damn polite to let on to the darkness he saw in Dean, because he glowed with charred iron, eyeless and blotchy. Yet, his body was still his own.
“Did you hear about the apocalypse?”
“Apocalypse? Which one?”
Azra had pulled Cass into the kitchen about a minute before, mostly confident nobody was going to attack each other. They were chatting at the dining table, catching up on their very long lives. Azra even poured them tea.
Cass sipped it politely. They were always grateful to find beings that were actually nice to be around. Cassiel found themselves breathing easily without having to force it. Even though harmony was part of a Cherub’s nature, they could also see why Anthony chose to stick around. Azra reminded them fondly of Sam, who’s wit would not outdo his kindness, which was different. Kindness was a learned trait, especially after all this time.
By the time Anthony and Dean came into the kitchen, dinner was cooking. The Demon poured them both a strong drink. A clinking of glass made both Angels pause and breathe a sigh of relief.
***
An Angel and a Demon lounged on the couch in the early morning light. The fireplace was still going.
Azra flipped his book page, the cocoa in his winged mug steaming gently. Anthony’s head lay on his lap.
“Angel?”
“Yes, love?”
“Do you think they’ll be, y’know, alright?”
“Where’s this coming from?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. Just thinking, it’d be a shame if, after everything, y’know. Something else happened.”
“I wouldn’t worry, Anthony dear. Some beings can persevere after quite a lot. Neither of them seem the type to give up easily. Not for something that’s worth it. Those beings never live in vain.”
“Mm.”
The Angel put his book down. When he looked to his husband, he couldn’t help but smile. He rubbed his thumb gently on Anthony’s cheek.
Golden eyes lit up at him.
“What?”
“Nothing, love. You are absolutely beautiful.”
Blush crept up Anthony’s face. He turned inward and nestled into Azra’s stomach.
Azra went back to his book, hand in the hair of the one being he prized the most.