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“Christmas izzz stupid.”
That’s what Beelzebub had said when Gabriel mentioned his work schedule for the month. He had been so apologetic about having to work during Christmas, which had seemed dumb at the time.
“Christmas izzz stupid. Jesus wasn’t even born in December. I could care less when you work.”
Gabriel had taken them by the hand and caressed over their knuckles with his thumb, his voice low. “I just thought… our first Christmas… you know. As a couple.”
“It’ll just be a normal Friday. I can handle myself when you’re not around. Actually it’zzz more enjoyable when you’re not chattering at me, pigeon.”
Gabriel had chuckled at them, kissed their cheek, and stepped back into the beginning crackle of a celestial bolt of lightning. “Of course my Prince. Merry Christmas.”
Christmas is stupid.
At least, it seemed that way until just now, when Beelzebub came home from their own tasks in hell to a dark, empty house. They removed their sash, coat, and shoes, dropping them all to the floor in the foyer as they felt a strange sinking feeling in their chest.
They wandered around the dark house, the unlit Christmas tree and fireplace looming at them like the haunting of a memory they could have made. Their experiences of Christmas had always been hell. Literally. For a demon, Christmas was usually a time for tempting humans to greed, pride, sloth, and gluttony. A time for working themselves to the bone even as they witnessed humans rejecting temptation and spending their holidays carefree and jovial, in the arms of their loved ones. Not experiences demons were meant to have. Not experiences Beelzebub ever thought they wanted. At least, not until this very moment.
Their chin quivered as they wrapped their arms around themselves, the sensation paling in comparison to the warmth of their angel’s arms. His wings.
This is stupid. You’re a Prince of Hell.
They stormed up to their bedroom and tore their clothes off, electing instead for a Krampus onesie and devil slippers. They made their way grumpily around the house, lighting every candle along with the massive fireplace and flicking on the Christmas tree lights. The house was blinding, and yet even with everything illuminated, it still felt cold and vacant.
Nothing will ever take the place of an angel’s light.
They growled and stomped into the kitchen, the only treats they could find being a bag of marshmallows that Gabriel had purchased for hot chocolate. They snatched up the bag as tears began streaming down their cheeks, a bottle of peppermint schnapps gathered soon after. They deposited their snacks in front of the fire and collected every pillow and blanket they could find in the house, building a fort fit for a Prince in front of the fire. At least, a Prince who was foolish enough to tell an Archangel to piss off on Christmas Eve.
They crawled into their fort and hugged a pillow to their chest, shoveling handfuls of marshmallows into their mouth and occasionally tossing one into the fire to watch it bubble and blacken. How like a fallen angel it was—starting out soft and sweet but then they would burn and become charred and unsavory. Why was Gabriel even with them anyway? They pushed him away and insulted him and then pouted when he obliged. They took a sloppy swig of alcohol as more hot tears stung their cheeks. Gabriel should be with a marshmallow, not this… salty, spicy… mess.
What even are these stupid thoughts?! CHRISTMAS IS STUPID.
“Alexa, play ‘Happy Holidayzzz, You Bazztard.’”
“I’m sorry, I’m having trouble understanding you.”
“Dumb bitch,” Beelzebub mumbled. Damn thing had never been able to figure out their buzz. They couldn’t even wallow in their own pity the way they wanted. They chugged some more peppermint schnapps and reserved themselves to hiding out in their fort of shame, drinking away the kinds of unwelcome emotions they swore they’d never succumb to.
Their commitment was short lived, however. They jumped and accidentally dumped marshmallows all over the floor when they heard the front door open and close. They crawled from their pillow fort and stood, furiously wiping tears from their cheeks when they realized Gabriel was standing in the foyer, arms full of shopping bags and smiling goofily. His joy faded instantly when he spotted the tears on their cheeks.
“Oh Bee,” he said, immediately dropping his bags and rushing forward to pull them into his arms. They clutched his ridiculous Christmas sweater, their face buried in his chest.
“Have you been crying?” he asked, tipping their chin up with gentle fingers.
“No,” they lied, followed by a hiccup of betrayal.
“I thought you said you were okay being alone for Christmas,” Gabriel inquired, his thumb wiping their tears away.
Their chin quivered as they worked up the courage to answer him honestly. “I… thought I wazzz.”
“Bee,” Gabriel cooed, hugging them tightly and suffocating almost every negative thought they’d had, replacing them instead with warmth, light, and love.
“What are you even doing here, angel? I thought you had to work?”
“Well… I did. But I thought about what you said. You’re right, Jesus wasn’t born in December. I would know, I was there. So what does Christmas really mean? To me? Well it’s about love, and what kind of angel would I be if… I left the one I love alone on Christmas Eve?”
Beelzebub heard his words, but their millenniums-long existence as a demon didn’t allow them to respond in any discernable fashion other than pulling him a little closer.
“What izzz all that rubbish anyway?” they mumbled at the bags left in the foyer, hoping to distract themselves from the fact that an angel just said he loved them. It had the unfortunate effect of making Gabriel release his embrace, leaving them standing in the living room as he shuffled excitedly to retrieve his bags.
“I um… might’ve made a detour on my way here.”
“You came from Heaven, you choose the departure and the destination, there’zzz no such thing azz a detour.”
Gabriel blinked, then blushed. “Okay fine, I intentionally went out of my way to swing by the Christmas market in Hamburg.” He bent and gathered the bags, carrying them over and depositing them at the Prince’s feet. He knelt and started pulling items out—trinkets, baked treats, chocolates, candies of every color, even a cookie in the shape of a heart with a crown that said Prinz in royal icing. He looked up at them expectantly, his eyes sparkling so brightly that they made the Christmas tree look like a dumpster fire.
“I know how much you like sweets so I thought… I’d bring some back and we could… I dunno. Spend the evening together.”
Satan’s bollocks I’m going to cry again.
“Bee?”
Gabriel stood slowly and cradled their face between his hands, his expression slowly morphing from confusion to deep understanding.
“You’re… happy but you don’t know how to express it?”
They nodded.
“You really want me to just shut up about it and drag you back into your adorable little pillow fort and feed you all the goodies I bought?”
They cracked a smile and nodded again, their eyes misty. Gabriel chuckled and kissed their hair, his hand tapping their bum.
“Why don’t you take these treats in there and I’ll join you in a bit. I’m uh…” he motioned to their onesie and slippers. “Overdressed.”
Beelzebub watched him depart toward the bedroom with a very strange warming sensation in their chest. They bent and gathered up Gabriel’s offerings, slipping into their pillow fort and feeling the palpable flush in their cheeks. They could count on one hand the number of times in their existence they’d felt this happy. There should be a catch. Demons weren’t supposed to feel like this. They kept waiting for God’s punchline, but it never came. With every passing day they spent with Gabriel, the harder they fell. But perhaps… falling in love was the good kind of falling.
Gabriel had to bend awkwardly to fit into the fort, even though Beelzebub had thought they built it fairly large. Silly Archangel and his massive corporation.
Beelzebub nearly choked on their own laugh when they realized what he was wearing—what appeared to be a biblically accurate angel onesie, complete with plushie wings and hundreds of googly eyes.
“What the fuck izzz that?!” they guffawed, Gabriel’s brilliant smile making their heart flutter in some sort of way.
“It only seemed fitting. This is apparently what angels look like to humans, and I guess what I looked like to Mary when I told her she was pregnant. During July I might add.”
“Well you look ridiculouzzz.”
“Ridiculously handsome?”
Beelzebub slapped his chest playfully, then cuddled up into that ridiculous onesie. He reached for the bag of treats and fetched a spherical chocolate, offering it out for them to wrap their lips around. They settled into his warmth, their legs entangling with his as the fire flickered at their feet.
“Tell me about them. Mary and Joseph. And Jesus. I know what that event meant to you. I want to hear your experience of it.”
Gabriel regaled them the tale of his first noteworthy mission, which turned out to be far less glamorous than the bible would have humans believe. It was the story of a terrified angel, desperate to impress, venturing into territory completely unknown to him, and a terrified human woman, accepting a gift she was entirely unprepared for. Their mutual fear had brought them together, and culminated in the first true genuine fondness between an angel and a human. And Gabriel’s first real loss.
He was hesitant to talk about Jesus of Nazareth, and Beelzebub decided that was enough of story time. They handed him the bottle of peppermint schnapps, which he surprisingly accepted, his breath smelling of sweet and icy peppermint when he kissed them. They made love in front of the fire at near midnight, their soft moans and quiet praises a beautiful chorus of Hellish desire and Heavenly bliss.
Beelzebub’s eyelids felt heavy as they squirmed comfortably in Gabriel’s arms, the fire simmering and crackling with its lingering warmth. They reached down to find a few more discarded marshmallows scattered across the floor, their claws extending to pierce several of them and hold them over the iridescent glow of the fire.
“You know I wazzzz thinking. How alike we are to these stupid thingzzz. You’re one of the fresh onezz. Sweet, and soft. But me?” they said, holding a marshmallow impaled on their claw intentionally too close to the smoldering log, the skin of it blistering and boiling until it was black.
“I’m nothing like you.”
Gabriel watched as the marshmallow burned to a crisp, his hand creeping up Beelzebub's arm to cradle their wrist and coax their hand toward his mouth. He sucked the charred sweet off their claw, his eyes reflecting the flames.
“Honestly?” he said, licking their claw clean and then pressing his lips to the pulse point at their wrist, making sure he could feel several hastening thumps before speaking again.
“The burned one is perfect just the way it is.”