Work Text:
Gentleness.
It’s not something either of them are used to. Not something that comes naturally; or rather, if it does, not something they are accustomed to being able to let show. Certainly, not something they know how to receive from others.
Demons aren’t gentle, or in any case they are not supposed to be. Demons are cruel, harsh, uncaring, with a bent for torture. Gentleness is nowhere to be found in Hell. If a shred of it does let itself be detected, the perpetrator is unlikely to last long.
Angels are not gentle either. They are fierce, mighty, unbending, handing out blessings and smitings alike without a qualm. Sometimes, at least in theory, Heaven can be merciful. But mercy is not the same as gentleness.
No, gentleness is something that was invented on earth. When the first humans tentatively touched each other’s hands, when Chava tucked a flower behind Adam’s ear, when she cradled Kayin in her arms and he leaned in to whisper a soft hello.
Gentleness is an earthly creation. And when an angel and a demon spend six thousand years coming as near as an angel and a demon can to being creatures of earth themselves, other things gradually creep into the mix along with the food, the drink, and the taste for books and music.
And after the Ritz, after the world is saved, after they no longer need to tamp down on the instincts that mark them below and above as weak or pathetic or target , they begin to explore that which they seldom dared to before. Tentatively, they touch each other’s hands. Softly, they whisper greetings. Tenderly, they stroke each other’s hair.
It’s a lot to adjust to, displaying such things; more still, being on the receiving end. But slowly, gently, they’re learning how.