Work Text:
Athens, 337 BC
"Is it just me, or is Aristotle getting more and more like Plato?"
Coriel glanced over at Azra in time to see the demon's brow furrow in confusion. "What do you mean? Philosophically, he's growing more distinct by the day. And he's performing actual observations, the dear thing, even if he hasn't a clue."
"No, I mean personality-wise," Coriel said. "He's no fun to argue with anymore. For a little while, you could actually have a debate with the guy, but now he's just as stuck up as Plato got to be towards the end."
"Ah," Azra said, shifting the scribble-covered pottery shards in his arms into a slightly more stable position. Coriel sighed, reaching out to take some of them from him, and managed not to blush at Azra's beaming smile.
"I mean," Coriel continued, "you'd have thought that someone who studied under Socrates would know how to argue, at least. But no! They're just getting worse and worse at it. I'm on the verge of sending them your way, bunny."
"Oh, come now, you know that the Sophists were not actually my fault!" Azra protested.
Coriel laughed. "And how many offers have you gotten this month from people who want to learn sophistry from you?"
Azra groaned. "Oh, just because the people who attended the trial were too confused to come to a conclusive decision, I'm meant to be a Sophist, of all things?"
"I mean…" Coriel said.
Azra nudged up against him, letting out an exasperated sigh that was utterly belied by his grin. "You haven't any room to talk. Don't think I didn't see you following Socrates around like a lost puppy, no matter how he smelled."
"Oi! Socrates wasn't a bloody Sophist!" Coriel protested. "And you hung off him just as much as I did. Even had some private lessons, didn't you?"
"I did not!" Azra said, tilting his pottery shards into one arm in order to open the door to his house, gesturing for Coriel to enter before following after him. "This corporation looks too old for Socrates to have been interested in, anyways."
More fool him, Corel thought, and Azra's nose twitched.
"So, where'm I putting these down?" Coriel asked, jostling the pottery bits in his arms and looking around the crowded spaces of Azra's home, covered as they already were in writings and records.
"Oh, wherever you can find space for now," Azra said, setting his own pottery down seemingly at random. "I'll sort it all later, make sure it's safe."
"Safe?"
"Did I not tell you? My last house collapsed a few years back, I lost nearly six years' worth of work. I've been miraculously preserving these, just in case."
"Smart," Coriel said. "How does the Big Guy feel about all that?"
Azra flushed pink. "He, ah, He thinks that I'm preserving information on rituals and, and I quote, 'morally-deprived cultish activities', and I'm– I'm rather hoping it stays that way, to be entirely honest."
Coriel snorted. "Should've guessed. Have you ever actually told him the truth about what you're doing Up Here?"
"Now, why would I do that?" Azra asked, a small grin flitting across his lips. "I'd quite like to stay here, thank you very much. And, well, I am a demon. It's His own fault if He can't sort out that nearly everyone in Hell is lying to Him in one way or another."
Coriel laughed, and Azra's grin broadened briefly before he seemed to shake himself out of it, holding a gloved hand out to Coriel. "There's a symposium at the Akademia tonight. Would you like to join me? I think I'm going to be relocated soon, and I'd hate to waste the time I have here before then."
"'Course, bunny," Coriel said, taking Azra's hand and letting the demon tug him back out into the city proper. "Where do you think you're headed?"
"Not sure," Azra said. "Apparently, Phillip of Macedon has been facing trouble lately. I expect I'll be sent to make things worse."
"Macedonia?" Coriel asked, sucking in a breath through his teeth. "Good luck."
Azra laughed. "I had hoped you wouldn't be quite so pessimistic."
"M'not pessimistic, I'm honest," Coriel said.
"Well, if you could be a little less so, I'd be quite obliged," Azra said.
Coriel laughed again, following along in Azra's wake as he bustled through Athens, practically bloody shining in the slowly-setting evening sun. He was beautiful, he really was, the soft, pale curves of his face and shoulders and arms, the even lighter curls of his hair and the little tufts of fur on his palms and feet, the never-ending, subtle movements he made, the way the black of his toga made the glow of his face somehow even more obvious. Azra was gorgeous, and the love that poured off him at every turn made him even more so, with the way the small bursts of fresh adoration at every new, fascinating human quirk or idea built on the warm, steady, constant sort of background-love that Azra had emitted ever since the Ark. Coriel wasn’t sure why it had started then, why he hadn’t felt anything nearly so strong from him back with Adam and Eve, who he knew Azra had loved dearly, but he’d also gotten so used to the feeling that he didn’t usually bother to question it.
Coriel, like every angel in Heaven, had been told that the ability to love had been ripped out of demons when they Fell, alongside God’s Grace and the possibility of forgiveness. Coriel, of course, could call bullshit on that, at least in this one case. Azra could love. At times, it seemed like Azra did nothing but love, the way he overflowed with it, the way it shone out of his face and radiated in warm, gentle waves from his entire being when he found a new piece of writing to read, or a new story to listen to, or a new food to try, or when he first spotted Coriel after time spent apart, or when they’d stay up together, drinking and talking until late came back around into early and Azra was leaning against Coriel’s side, solid and steady, and Coriel could feel the demon's love like ocean waves, lapping so very gently against him.
"My dear?" Azra's voice, soft and concerned, cut through Coriel's reverie. "Are you all right?"
"'Course I am," Coriel said, flashing him a bright grin as they sat side by side at one of the little food-laden tools of the Akademia, a little out of the way of most of the students and philosophers. "Just wondering what I'll do when you're all the way in Macedonia."
"Oh, you're so very clever, I'm sure you'll be quite all right," Azra said, smiling gently and tearing himself a piece of bread. "You haven't had a proper project in quite some time, you could start one of those."
"But I don't have any ideas," Coriel whined, slumping back against his cushions, though he didn't take his eyes off of Azra as the demon bit into the bread, his eyes fluttering closed briefly at the taste. "I'll be so bored, bunny."
"Mm. Alas," Azra said, dipping his bread in a plate of olive oil. "Such is life on Earth, on occasion. I'm quite sure it's better than Heaven."
"Oh, God, you've no idea," Coriel said. "Betting it beats Hell, too."
"Without question," Azra said. "You know, dear–"
"Asrus, Corius!" a voice called, and then a relatively young-looking man was sitting down on Azra's other side. "I wasn't sure if you'd come!"
"Speussipus, how lovely to see you," Azra said, beaming at the scholar, and then they were off, and Coriel sat back, just watching the demon and the human interact. Azra's face was warm and open, still so bloody kind, even so many millennia of pain and hatred and fear later. So kind, and soft, with just enough of a bastard streak to make him worth knowing.
It wasn't as much a revelation as it was a slow uncovering of something that Coriel had already known, on some level, for what had probably been centuries.
I think I love him.
Coriel shifted eventually, leaning a little more heavily against Azra's arm, and Azra pressed back against him, shooting him one of those beaming smiles, the steady love of him spiking for just a moment as he did so, and it took everything in Coriel to keep him from melting against the demon entirely.
Instead, he tore off a fresh piece of the largely picked-over bread, dunked it in the olive oil on the table, and offered it to Azra, who took it with another smile and a soft "Thank you ever so much, my dear."
"Anything," Coriel breathed back, before he could quite stop himself, and Azra's cheeks flushed to nearly the same colour as his eyes as he turned back to the conversation he'd been having.
I love him, Coriel thought again. I really do, don't I? And, fuck, he deserves so much better than he's gotten, doesn't he? I can't change what's happened, what he's been through, but… maybe I can keep it from getting worse. Maybe I can keep him safe. Make him happy. Take his mind off of it all, even if it's just for a little while. Maybe… maybe I can protect him, at least from some of it. I can't save him from Hell, I probably can't even do much against Heaven, but there is nothing on Earth that will ever hurt him again, not if there's anything I can do about it.
Azra pressed a little more firmly up against Coriel's side, and Coriel shifted slightly, not quite draping his arm across the demon's shoulders, though it was a close thing indeed. Azra blushed again, glancing up at Coriel, and a wave of conviction rolled through the angel, nearly bowling him over with the force of it.
I'll keep you safe, bunny. I'll protect you. No matter what.
I promise.