Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Making friends is never conducive to a good work environment. You make friends, they die excruciating deaths, rinse and repeat.

Aki has coworkers, running the gamut from juniors, to superiors, to devils from the pits of hell— but friends are in short supply. He considers Makima a good acquaintance while privately wishing she was more, but beyond that, he hasn’t had someone to refer to as a best friend since Himeno.

Between the two idiots he’s responsible for, his coworkers, and the general public, Aki has become adept at filing every person he meets into a category and carefully choosing how much energy they deserve from him. This practical strategy would be foolproof were it not for one glaring anomaly in his life.

“Oh, it’s you,” The Angel Devil says, pausing outside the precinct cafeteria. He looks Aki up and down the way one might consider a particularly tasteless art-installation. “Want me to finish you off?”

The devil Aki fought earlier that morning hadn’t been so kind, instead bestowing a slew of surface wounds that he’s sure will scar up nicely in the coming weeks. He’d barely tolerated any attention from doctors in the med bay. Their poking and prodding always left him feeling worse off than if he’d just let his wounds fester.

Aki dulls himself to the pain in each step and brushes past Angel.

“Maybe after lunch.”

By virtue of being partners, it’s difficult for Aki to place Angel within the system he’s established. They’re not nearly acquaintances, and certainly not friends. If anyone cared enough to ask, he’d say every devil is his natural enemy.

Yet time and time again, he’s surprised to find himself in Angel’s company.

While it’s true that they rarely get alone, it’s also true that the person he now spends the most time with outside his immediate housemates is a devil.

Angel has made passing comments of his own, subtle digs at how much time he’s wasting on a human.

“You know you can leave if you don’t want to be here,” Aki will say and watch each time as Angel rolls his eyes, shooting back a heartfelt, “If only that were true.”

Partners or not, Angel has two perfectly working legs and two possibly working wings. If he’s really so averse to sharing Aki’s company, there should be nothing stopping him from keeping his distance. They don’t even seem to share similar tastes in cuisine, despite Angel following Aki into any restaurant he picks out.

It doesn’t really click in his mind until the fourth lunch they eat out together, where Angel picks at his Greek salad for a solid five minutes and spends the remainder of their break face down asleep at the table.

Angel really has nowhere else to be.

“Nowhere else I can be,” Angel corrects him, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “It’s such a hassle filling out all the paperwork.”

There’s a rule about “highly dangerous” agents under Public Safety. Beyond the handful of buildings open only to workers within the special divisions, there aren’t many places these individuals are authorized. They obviously can’t let every devil and fiend run around Tokyo without some kind of safeguard. It’s either meticulous logging of whereabouts and patterned check ins, or they have to be accompanied by authorized personnel.

According to Angel, this fancy procedure is better known among the others as “glorified babysitting.”

Aki won’t claim to be very high up on the totem pole, but he does have some weight to throw around. On a whim, he throws it in the direction of special services, not expecting much of a response.

Failing to meet even his lowest expectations, they don’t give him any notice that his request was denied until he seeks it out on his own over a week later. The internal divisions of public safety apparently have much more pressing things to worry about than the odd request of a single devil hunter, especially in the wake of what is noted in the denial form as “the potential for clouded judgement due to recent traumatic events.”

They could at least do him the courtesy of putting Himeno’s name in writing.

It pisses him off enough that he decides to burn through all the usual red tape and write straight to the source. There’s a letter of approval in his company mailbox by the next morning, granting him loose jurisdiction over Angel’s comings and goings on the strict condition that Aki chaperone every outing.

“Stewardship,” he offers, handing Angel a slip signed by Makima herself. He wasn’t there to witness her reaction to the appeal, but imagines if he was, she’d have said something about their successful partnership.

It sounds slightly better than babysitting.

Angel stares at the document in his hands and turns his gaze up to Aki, eyes wide and impassive. “They’re letting you take the dogs out on walks now?”

Aki isn’t sure if he’s supposed to laugh, so he doesn’t.

It’s not like he was expecting a thank you or anything, but the lack of any genuine reaction annoys him more than he’d like to admit. Afterall, wasn’t the good deed itself supposed to be its own reward?

Himeno used to needle him about this so-called savior mindset.

“You can’t take responsibility for every poor sap that happens to stumble into your life,” she would say, gesturing with a half-smoked cigarette in one hand and the other on her hip. “Eventually, even the best intentions end up self serving.”

Aki reminds himself that granting Angel this freedom is a courteous act. A friendly gesture for a not-friend, and an acknowledgement of their unlikely alliance. He tells himself that he’s only doing what he feels he ought to, using his authority for good. He’d barely considered the procedure, tugged along by the firm conviction that he’d be helping.

If perhaps a deeper, darker part of him followed that natural impulse to help, it doesn’t change the fact he’s doing Angel a favor. If Aki just happens to sate his growing sense of responsibility from the arrangement, it can hardly be called self-serving.

So without giving it much thought, Aki begins to accompany Angel on walks.

More precisely, when they aren’t patrolling together, Angel goes wherever he pleases with Aki in tow. It isn’t everyday—Aki has two other nuisances in his life to account for, and Angel likes his alone time—but they hang out enough where they establish a routine.

Then, as the days get shorter and their work hours drag on, Angel puts in a single request for a few of Aki’s days off.

“It makes more sense for both of us,” Angel says with a yawn. “And I’m tired after work.”

Aki knows only one of those statements is true.

Chapter Text

Angel’s favorite haunts become apparent within the first week.

He likes parks, the ocean, and anywhere he can get the most space between himself and large groups of humans. If being a walking paradox wasn’t enough, he seems to enjoy people watching the most, parking himself on any available surface to stare down whichever unlucky soul catches his eye in the distance.

With Angel being the glutton that he is, Aki has to limit their restaurant visits to save his wallet the pain. Naturally, he pays for everything because devils don’t get any sort of stipend.

“If I want something, I ask for it,” Angel explains, taking a proffered ice cream cone from Aki’s outstretched hand, careful to not let their fingers overlap. “It comes from the government.”

They’re under the awning of an ice cream stand that’s seen better days. The peeling paint of the siding and the flickering lights are souring Aki’s mood by the second, while Angel sits crouched on a cement block either oblivious or uncaring.

“You’re not a cheap date you know,” Aki mutters, stuffing leftover change into his pocket.

Angel peers at him over his strawberry soft serve. “What annoys you more? That I can’t pay my own way, or that a devil like me gets a cushy, state sponsored lifestyle?”

“More like state enforced servitude,” Aki scoffs.

Melted cream threatens to spill over the edge of Angel’s cone.

“Oh,” he says, tilting his head. “I get it.”

A pink drop trickles down slowly. Aki wills himself not to take the bait.

Unsurprisingly, he fails.

“...Get what?”

“Envying a devil is one thing,” Angel’s eyes lock on Aki as his tongue swipes at the melted cream dirtying his fingers. “What you really can’t stand is pitying one.”

The ice cream stand’s peeling paint is suddenly the most offensive thing in the world. Aki directs his furious glare there. “Shut up.”

Angel hums and waves his sticky hand in Aki’s direction. “Can you pass me some napkins?”

Though that’s where the conversation ends, Angel’s words repeat in Aki’s mind later while he’s washing dishes and letting his mind wander.

Is that what their arrangement amounts to? Unwarranted pity for a being wholly undeserving and incapable of responding in kind?

But Aki has witnessed Angel cooperating out in the field. Despite his complaining, he rarely lets himself become dead weight when there are lives on the line. Afterall, Aki has first hand experience behind the protective barrier of his wings.

Angel is someone worth relying on, at least in the heat of battle. Can that be chalked up to his duty as a member of public safety, or is there a modicum of selflessness buried under his infuriatingly easy-going attitude?

Would Aki pity a being like that?

Would simply pitying Angel bother him this much?

Aki mulls over these questions for a while, until Denji points out he’s been drying the same plate for over five minutes.

He puts the dish away and his thoughts to rest.

In the unlikely event Angel turns out to harbor any hidden love for humanity, Aki will surely be the last to find out.

Chapter Text

Aki dislikes the fall.

Besides being the precursor to his most hated season, everyday is a gamble on what kind of weather you’ll be getting. The days he dresses for the heat will be cold, and vice versa. His shitty luck always endures.

Today is somehow a lousy combination of both, the sun beating down and sinking into the fabric of his black suit jacket, while the wind blows hard enough to chill every bit of uncovered skin.

He’s standing next to yet another city bench, cursing himself for agreeing to this outing as he waits for Angel to finish his second dessert of the day,

Angel’s hair keeps coming close to whipping into his crepe, forcing him to eat it slowly and methodically. Each time he pauses to tuck his bangs behind his ears, Aki starts a new countdown from ten.

One strong gust later and Aki is reaching over to begin gathering Angel’s hair up in a loose hold.

Luckily, he stops midway through the motion, completely thrown at his own audacity. It’s something he’s done on impulse for Power enough times where it’s become muscle memory.

Angel glares at him, the wind blowing a strand into his face.

“Here,” Aki says quickly, pulling his hair out of its tidy topknot and offering the tie pinched between two fingers. Angel stares, and stares, until Aki begins to feel foolish. “What is it?”

Angel blinks and exchanges the hair tie for his food. “I thought your hair grew like that is all. Like an extra appendage.”

Aki has a brief fantasy of letting the crepe slip out of his hand and into Angel’s lap.

Angel fastens his hair into a high ponytail, some thin strands escaping the tie and framing his face. Annoyingly, he looks even more angelic this way, the exposed nape of his neck a strange sight that draws Aki’s gaze one too many times for comfort.

His fingers itch for a cigarette.

Attracted by the smell of food, an inquisitive stray cat sidles up to Angel, meowing until he leans down and holds out his palm for it to sniff.

Watching the cat smooth its face against Angel’s hand sets off a lurch of warning in Aki’s stomach, though he’s been assured before that Angel’s ability only works on humans.

It’s weak in that respect, Aki thinks. While humans are an abundant resource, it’d be more impressive if Angel could draw from any living thing—impressively morbid of course, but surely more convenient.

Not to mention it only takes a simple cloth barrier to prevent the life transfer.

Angel’s hands are small, though his fingers are long and graceful. Aki watches the way they curl under the cat's chin and smooth down its neck. A sudden chill rolls down his own nape, and Aki adjusts his collar, muttering a curse into the wind.

As he continues to observe Angel, a thought occurs.

“Why don’t you wear gloves?”

Angel pulls his hand back in surprise. “What?”

The cat flicks its tail at the perceived slight and takes to weaving between Aki’s legs, rubbing affection against his shins.

“As an extra safety measure,” Aki clarifies, giving the cat an absentminded scratch behind the ear. “So you don’t accidentally drain anyone.”

Angel watches the two of them with an inscrutable expression.

“We’ve been through this,” he says eventually. “I’m a devil. It’s my nature to drain things, people, whatever. I want all humans to suffer and die, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Aki echoes, his question left thoroughly unanswered.

Angel scuffs his sneakers against the pavement, casting glances towards the cat now sitting in a loaf on Aki’s shoes. “Why don’t you?”

Aki considered it at one point.

Naturally, the dangers of being around Angel are multiplied by the amount of time they spend together. Wearing gloves as a first line of defense would be the sensible thing to do.

Yet, no matter how he looks at it, donning gloves in Angel’s presence is going too far. Too far beyond what he can hardly say. It’s a final line drawn between them, an unspoken boundary they’ve both chosen to uphold. The mental image was offensive enough that he dismissed the idea as quickly as it came.

Putting that into words clearly isn’t an option, so Aki just shrugs. “I don’t need gloves to handle you.”

“Underestimating me?” Angel scoffs, though he doesn’t sound the least bit insulted. “That’s fine— it’s your funeral.”

“If you were going to drain me, you would’ve done it by now.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to let your guard down.”

As if it was ever up in the first place, Aki thinks, watching Angel’s ponytail sway in the breeze.

Chapter Text

“What’s that?” A highschool girl whispers to her friend. “Cosplay?”

Even among the large crowds waiting for the train, Aki doesn’t bother trying to remain inconspicuous—It’s an impossible feat when Angel is giving off such intense vibes of displeasure at his side.

“Why would anyone willingly trap themselves underground?” Angel grumbles. “Hell already exists.”

Having been called into work on his day off to tail a fiend, Aki has plenty to complain about himself, but he sucks it up like a good little soldier because he cares about the bigger picture. If Angel doesn’t want to do his job today he should really keep it to himself.

Aki does a full body turn, scanning the throngs of people and lamenting his limited senses. He’d barely caught a glimpse of the fiend as it rounded the corner and dissapeared down the subway entrace. To make matters worse it had taken ages to convince Angel to follow.

He turns an urgent look towards Angel. “Is it still here? Can you tell?”

Angel throws a wicked glare towards a salaryman who dares to step too close in his direction. “I have no idea,” he replies, covering his nose with his sleeve. “It reeks of humanity down here.”

It quickly becomes apparent that their target has given them the slip, but before Aki can think of their next move, a boarding chime rings out.

He barely has time to grip onto Angel’s shoulder as the train doors hiss open, sending a tide of people into the cars in a sudden rush that carries them both along.

The doors slide shut behind them with grim finality.

“Seriously…?” Angel mutters.

“Rush hour,” Aki says dimly in response.

The strangers next to Aki are close enough that he can feel their collective breathing and the rustle of clothes as they all sway together with the train.

Angel stumbles sideways, his cheek coming close to brushing the bare shoulder of the woman beside him.

Aki reverses their positions, crowding Angel up against the door. He supports himself with an arm above Angel’s head, the other resting as a barrier to Angel’s open side.

If looks could kill, Aki would be six feet under and rotting.

Angel’s eyes dart to the gaps where Aki’s limbs don’t reach, his palms pressed flat against the door as if that will provide any stability. “This is your fault. If you hadn’t insisted we check the subways—”

“I know,” Aki says, voice strained. “Just bear with it until the next stop.”

The train continues to move at an even pace, rattling along the tracks.

This close, Aki can’t keep his gaze from hovering over Angel’s features.

Hair a tawny red with eyes to match, and skin almost porcelain in its perfection, he possesses a beauty too severe to be welcoming.

Yet the longer Aki looks, the more familiar Angel’s face becomes. The perpetual downturn of his lips, the slow weight of his lids each time he blinks, and the way his bangs fall. Aki imagines reaching down and brushing them out of his face.

Angel’s wings are carefully folded in as far as they’ll go, but the edges of white feathers still tickle the exposed skin of Aki’s wrists.

The pure absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on him. He’s sure he’s living a gross parody of the dramas Himeno used to binge when she got especially drunk and wanted some easy entertainment.

If Angel makes a similar connection, he doesn’t show it. His defiant gaze stays fixed on Aki’s chest. Only the taut line of his shoulders betrays how tense he actually is, how still he’s making himself stand to avoid making contact with any of Aki’s exposed skin.

I want all humans to suffer and die.

Things would be simpler if that were true.

Chapter Text

Like most of his relationships, Aki finds the longer he carries on in Angel’s company, the more tolerance he builds up to the less palatable aspects of Angel’s personality.

Blithe sarcasm softens into a sense of humor that isn’t hard to warm up to, and interacting becomes less of a chore.

Aki is surprised by how long he can sustain their talks without growing tired. The only other person he had this kind of rapport with was Himeno—though his conversations with Angel aren’t nearly as alcohol driven. With Angel, talking occurs in short bursts, interspersed by much needed periods of silence, the closest thing to relaxation Aki is getting these days.

They pass each day this way until a designated ending time, and then Aki sets off to pick up ingredients for dinner, and Angel sets off to do...whatever it is he gets up to in his free time.

“I read,” Angel says, dangling his legs off of a beachside pier. “Books and manga and things.”

The sky is overcast and the sea is choppy, knocking small boats in the harbor against the wooden docks. It’s a terrible morning for a beach visit but per usual, Angel hadn’t taken no for an answer. His public safety uniform cuts a strange image beside the surf.

Willing himself not to stare, Aki instead watches a flock of seagulls fighting over a discarded bag of chips. “I’m having a hard time imagining you reading manga. Doesn’t fit your image.”

A large wave crashes against the docks, splattering the hem of Angel’s pants with sea water. He grimaces and holds his legs straight out until it passes. “What do I look like I should read?”

Obituaries, maybe.

There’s also a particularly funny image stuck in Aki’s mind of Angel laying on his stomach in bed, pouring over a worn copy of Aesop’s Fables while kicking his legs back and forth like a schoolgirl.

Angel frowns at him. “You’re thinking something gross right now, aren’t you?”

Aki scrubs away a grin from his face, and changes the topic.

It’s no surprise that they get caught in the rain. Gathering clouds that ward away even the most carefree of beach goers are negligible to a devil—that is, until the sky finally opens up and unleashes a torrential downpour.

They’re lucky enough to duck under the cover of a nearby bus stop, but not before the shoulders and back of Aki’s shirt are soaked.

Angel doesn’t fare much better, his hair and wings dripping wet. He fluffs out his feathers as best he can, splattering Aki with extra droplets in the process.

Rain water dribbles down Angel’s cheeks and off his chin.

Aki digs around in his pocket and finds the fabric of his handkerchief blessedly dry. Struck by an uncanny sense of dejavu, he holds it out to Angel.

“Dry your face with this.”

“Is that an order?” Angel asks, staring at the offering with disinterest.

That’s what he gets for trying to do something nice. Aki can feel his patience wearing thin.

“Do you want it or not?”

Angel flicks hair out of his face, giving full view of his obstinate expression. “Do it for me.”

The cold seeping through Aki’s wet clothes dampens his desire to argue.

Careful to keep his hand covered, he dabs the handkerchief around Angel’s temples.

At the first touch, Angel jolts, his eyelashes fluttering in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“What you told me,” Aki says, a resolute calm washing over him. “Now stay still.”

Angel is curiously quiet under Aki’s attention, staring down at his sneakers with a frown. As Aki passes the cloth over his brow, his round eyes stay fixed, unblinking. Aki notices that despite the weather, Angel’s cheek is warm beneath the fabric.

Maybe this position would have bothered the Aki Hayakawa of a few months ago. The one who knew neither the weight of Angel’s presence at his side nor the sensation of Angel’s hand gripped tightly in his own. That person might as well be a stranger now.

Angel sighs, and Aki feels that too, ghosting along his fingers.

He goes to fold up the handkerchief for storage, but Angel tugs it away.

“Your turn.”

Rain patters on the sidewalk, the distant rumble of thunder signals the departure of the storm, and Angel’s touch is feather light as he presses the damp cloth to Aki’s cheek.

It’s...unnerving.

Charged energy prickles at the nape of his neck as Angel dries him off with more care than any devil should be capable of. He has to stretch himself up on tiptoe to reach Aki’s face.

The air smells of ozone, as if lightning just struck.

Angel moves onto drying his jaw, and it feels too much like a caress. Aki encloses fingers around Angel’s wrist over his sleeve.

“That’s enough.”

“So ungrateful,” Angel remarks. He steps away just as the midday sun breaks through the clouds, marking an end to the rain. Light glints off the curves of Angel’s halo.

It’s only once they’ve returned to companiable silence that Aki can finally breathe easy.

Chapter Text

Aki’s been at his job too long to let bloodshed faze him. Yet the universe seems delighted to serve him its worst horrors on a silver platter.

Today it’s a family of four, unlucky enough to be chosen at random as prey. By the time he and Angel arrive on the scene, the threat has been dealt with and all the remains is a gruesome clean up job they’ve been tasked to oversee.

The dining room table is set for a dinner never to be, three matching sets of chopsticks and one smaller pair decorated with a cutesy mascot. The clock on the wall is stuck at twelve and a TV is playing in another room. Aki’s shoes squish with each step on the stained hardwood, saturated with gore.

He needs a smoke break.

As Aki steps outside, the dim light of dusk greets him, dusting everything in purple shadows. He taps the pack of cigarettes against his palm, surprised by the muted rattle it gives.

That’s right, he’d been down to his last earlier in the afternoon and was about to stop by the store before they’d gotten the call.

He resolves to make this one count.

His fingers tremble as he flicks open his lighter, the faulty wheel stuttering under his thumb. He tries again and curses when a breeze wipes out the flame.

“Need some help?”

Angel startles him, somehow appearing at his side without making a sound. He seems wholly untroubled by the scene indoors, as lax as ever.

In moments like these, Aki can’t help but doubt the depths of Angel’s sincerity. His hand held out in an offer to help feels more like a challenge than pure goodwill.

Against his better judgment, Aki complies, placing the lighter in Angel’s palm.

The difference in their heights is significant enough where Aki has to bend down so Angel can reach. It brings to mind bowing at a shrine on New Years, something Aki hasn’t done since childhood.

Angel gets the flame going with an easy flick, cupping his free hand to shield it from the wind. His fingers are close enough to blur in Aki’s vision, and when Aki glances up, Angel’s eyes meet his for a split second before darting away.

Aki inhales the slow relief of smoke. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Angel says, tucking the lighter back in Aki’s front pocket. “It was pretty bad in there, huh?”

Aki remembers the mother’s corpse wrapped around what remained of her child. Neither of them ever stood a chance.

“No comment.”

Angel yawns, like he’s already thinking about his next nap. “One of them was still dying.”

Aki freezes. “What?”

“The eldest son,” Angel says. “He was beyond saving. I took care of it.”

Aki wonders if this is another sort of challenge. Angel doesn’t seem pleased by his confession, his lips drawn in a tight line. He’s forgotten to be cruel again.

Aki offers his cig to Angel without a word.

Angel takes it and holds it up, examining it against the last of the blue-black light. Watching him bring the cigarette to his lips, Aki wonders if urging an angel to smoke is some kind of cardinal sin.

The street lamps flicker on.

“So that’s how you taste,” Angel remarks.

A terrible reality awaits them inside, and Aki will soon have to return to it, dutifully, quietly. But right now it’s just him, Angel, and the smell of smoke.

“Do you want to have drinks at my place?” Aki asks, though it might be crossing a point of no return, if he saw Angel in his apartment, dressed in that rumpled uniform, sitting at the table and eating Aki’s cooking—

Angel huffs, wiping all Aki’s thoughts away in an instant.

“Hmmm...Okay.”

The tip of the cigarette smolders like a road flare before Aki stamps it out.

True to his word, Angel accompanies him home after their job.

Aki is relieved to find Power and Denji’s shoes absent from the entryway. He’s not sure he could explain Angel’s presence under interrogation.

While Aki heats up some leftovers, Angel pokes around, opening and closing cabinets like he owns the place. He stumbles across Nyako batting around a toy and amuses himself with her company until Aki lays out the food.

Aki must really be off his game because two drinks in he’s already feeling it. Angel keeps up but doesn’t seem the least bit intoxicated despite his slight frame. It’s probably a devil thing, damn him.

When Aki gets up to clear away the plates, he has to hold an arm out to keep from staggering.

Angel sips his drink and watches him unabashedly. “So why’d you invite me over?”

The alcohol helps the truth come easier.

“I used to do this kind of thing with an old friend of mine,” Aki replies, depositing the dishes in the sink to deal with later.

Feeling bold, he takes a seat on Angel’s side of the table.

“So I’m the stand-in,” Angel says, sounding less amused by the second.

Aki takes a swig of his beer. “No...No, you’re nothing like she was.”

It couldn’t be more of a relief.

Several drinks later the room is spinning, and Aki forces himself to lie back on the floor and count the notches in the ceiling.

Angel's face swims into view, upside down and staring. “You’re a bad host.”

There’s something terrible lurking at the edges of Aki’s thoughts, a factor from the job earlier he hasn’t been lucky enough to forget.

“I think he was around the age of that kid.”

“He?”

“Family,” Aki slurs, swallowing thickly. “Taiyo.”

Angel frowns, leaning closer. Strands of his hair tickle Aki’s forehead. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m going to vomit.”

“No, you’re not,” Angel says, and smooths a sleeve across his brow. “Go to sleep, Aki.”

Aki isn’t sure if he actually ends up sleeping, but after he closes his eyes time melts together into sludge. He has the faintest grasp on the images his mind provides him, snatches of his real life memories and two amber pools of red.

Eventually, he gains enough sobriety to feel long hair falling over his face, and his neck supported on something firm.

Aki grumbles some approximation of Angel’s name, squinting open his eyes.

“‘Tis I,” Power says, her nose bumping his. “Doing you a great service by allowing you to rest your head in my lap!”

“He left ages ago,” Denji calls from the kitchen. “Next time you try to drink yourself into a coma, do your share of the dishes first.”

Chapter Text

Aki is out on the balcony when the house phone begins to ring.

Power answers, her voice completely audible even from outside. The standard greeting Aki drilled into her brain has since warped into, “Hayakawa household, this is your future president speaking.”

There’s a pause as Power listens for a response.

“He’s not here,” she says eventually. “He’s...on a trip. To France.”

Aki sighs and puts down the laundry he was hanging.

He finds Power on the floor of the kitchen, twirling the phone cord around her fingers. She looks up at him with poorly concealed anxiety and presses the speaker to her chest. “Can’t you see I’m on the phone?”

“Denji is trying to put clothes on the cat again,” Aki says, and Power gives a horrified gasp, dropping the receiver.

Aki watches her scramble out of the room then picks up the phone, cradling it to his ear. “Sorry about that.”

“How’s France?” Angel seems even less enthused than usual. Speaking to Power can do that to a person.

“Noisy,” Aki replies, stretching the phone cord into the living room so he can tune out the explosive argument coming from down the hall. “Do you need me for something?”

Angel gets straight to the point. “I wanna go out. Is twelve good?”

Aki glances at the calendar on the wall, noting the red X Power scribbled over the current date. “Ah, so actually—”

“—you have plans?” Angel sounds baffled enough that Aki almost feels offended.

Then again, they’re not even his plans to begin with.

“I promised Power and Denji I’d pay for whatever they wanted to do today,” Aki clarifies.

He’d lost a stupid bet, and Power would kick up a fuss if he bailed now. But Angel doesn’t need to know that.

“Alright,” Angel says, “Then you three meet me at twelve.”

The phone nearly slips from Aki’s grip. “What was that?”

He can practically hear Angel’s eye roll over the phone. “Twelve o’clock. Pick me up. Bring the blood brat and Chainsaw.”

The line goes dead.

Denji materializes in the living room with Nyako in his arms. The combination bow tie and tiara she’s wearing strikes Aki as the result of a reluctant compromise.

“We’re going to have company today,” Aki says, and Denji curls his lip in disgust.

“You’re such a pushover.”

The dial tone blares in Aki’s ear.

At twelve, they find Angel sitting on the steps in front of the public safety building, his face turned towards the midday sun. There’s a volume of manga in his hand, resting open beside him like he’s just taken a break from reading.

It really doesn’t fit his image.

As they approach Angel closes his book and stands, his eyes flitting between the three of them in lieu of a hello. He’s in casual clothes—a cream, cable-knit sweater, beige pants, and a tote bag resting at his side.

Aki opens his mouth to greet him but the words catch in his throat and come out as, “No suit today?”

Angel shrugs, fingering the hem of his sleeves. “It’s being laundered.”

So even devils have to do laundry. Aki wonders where and how Angel shops. Is he provided clothing on request, or does somebody pick them out for him? Someone must do the alterations to account for his wings.

“Hey,” Denji says, pointing to the manga in Angel’s hand. “I’ve read that one.”

“Nuh-uh,” Power interjects, wrapping her arms around Denji’s shoulders. “You can’t read.”

Denji shrugs her off. “I look at the pictures! Same thing.”

Angel flips through the pages idly. “The story is slow and the characters aren’t that interesting, but the art mostly makes up for it.”

“Yeah,” Denji agrees,”And the main chick has really big— “

“—What did you want to do today, Power?” Aki interrupts before they can get too sidetracked.

Power crosses her arms and puts on her thinking face. He shoots down several of her more outlandish ideas before Denji raises a hand and suggests the Tokyo Tower.

Aki shakes his head. “We can’t go anywhere too crowded, and I’m not paying for a tourist trap.”

“What about the aquarium?” Angel suggests, and looks like he regrets saying anything when they all turn to stare at him.

Power scrunches up her nose. “What’s a kwarium?”

“It’s a place you go to look at fish,” Denji says, with more genuine patience than Aki expected. “Like sharks and stuff.”

Power’s interest is obviously piqued. “Sharks?”

“They have a new jellyfish exhibit,” Aki adds, recalling an ad he skimmed in the morning paper.

“I just had an amazing idea,” Power says, pausing for emphasis. “We should go to the kwarium.”

Power makes a bit of a scene when she finds out jellyfish aren’t actually fish made of jelly, but once Denji drags her over to the shark tank she soon forgets her disappointment.

In the dark exhibit hall, Angel watches the jellyfish, and Aki watches the tanks cast fluorescent blues and purples across his face in a kaleidoscope array. His halo lets off a faint glow, and the creatures seem to flock to their side of the tank like ships to a lighthouse beacon.

“Did you know that a certain species of box jellyfish can kill up to sixty people with one dart?” Angel places a hand against the glass. “When stung, most people go into shock, and if it’s really bad they die within twenty mintues.”

“Are you some sort of jellyfish fanatic?” Aki mutters.

“I read it on the information placard,” Angel replies, giving Aki an unamused glance. “And this species has a non-lethal amount of venom. If you touched one it would probably hurt, but you wouldn't die.”

“You’re spoiling the beauty of nature.”

A pair float past in an unhurried dance, their sunset tendrils trailing behind them. Angel traces their path with the tip of his finger.

“What is that human expression…” He muses, looking to Aki for confirmation. “Beauty is pain?”

“Not sure that applies here,” Aki sighs, studying the shadows of Angel’s face. “But they are beautiful.”

Angel nods.

“Intangible beauty is the most painful of all.”

There are jellyfish floating in his pale irises.

Aki lets that reply play on repeat in his thoughts until they’re drawn to other, more pertinent matters—like making sure Power doesn’t get them kicked out of the aquarium for trying to catch a fish to take home for Nyako.

They stop at the giftshop on the way out, and Aki spends so long contemplating an angelfish keychain that he doesn’t notice Denji walking out with over five-thousand yen worth of merchandise until the security alarms are blaring. It takes another fifteen minutes and Aki’s special division badge to convince the employees not to call the cops, so when they finally exit the aquarium it’s well past lunch time.

They unanimously agree to get something to eat at the first place they pass, which ends up being a western style diner with greasy tables and greasier food. They choose the booth furthest to the back, Angel with one side to himself and Aki squeezed between Denji and Power opposite him.

“Do you sleep upside down?” Power asks, oddly serious over her hotdog and basket of onion rings.

Denji rolls his eyes. “He’s not the bat devil, dumbass.”

Angel swirls his straw in his drink, playing along surprisingly well despite the position they’ve put him in. “I sleep in a bed, same as anyone else.”

Power frowns like she’s disappointed by his answer.

“What’s so scary about angels anyway?” Denji mumbles around a mouthful of fries. “They’re supposed to be good guys, right?”

Angel looks up from his half eaten parfait with a slightly bemused expression. “Are you asking why I exist?”

“Just seems kinda stupid to be scared of angels.”

“There’s no point in rationalizing it,” Angel says, “Angel or not, it doesn’t make a difference. Humans are scared of me because I can kill them. That’s it.”

“Well I’m not scared of you,” Denji counters.

“That’s stretching the definition of human a little, don’t you think?”

Denji turns to Aki, apparently expecting him to speak for all of humankind. “Back me up here. You don’t think he’s scary either, right?”

Aki thinks of the way Angel basks in the sun on warm afternoon walks, his eyes closed and breathing steady. He thinks of Angel ducking out of the way of strangers on the street, hyperaware of his own presence in crowded spaces. Aki remembers Angel in his apartment, wiggling his fingers on the carpet to catch Nyako’s attention, a small upturn of his lips the only indication he was enjoying himself.

“No,” Aki says. “I don’t think he’s scary.”

Angel huffs and goes back to dissecting the layers of his dessert. “You’ll regret that someday.”

Aki’s not sure he disagrees.

“D’you think there’s a...I dunno, a vending machine devil or something?” Denji muses, propping his head up with his fist. “Some people get scared of vending machines falling on top of them and crushing them to death.”

“How pathetic,” Power sneers, the expression ruined by the smears of mustard on her cheek. Aki takes a second to wipe it off with his napkin, snatching his hand out of the way before she can bite at his fingers.

“It’s less subjective than that,” Aki says dryly. “Or else we’d constantly be fighting devils with the shittiest names ever.”

“There is one,” Angel nods, “A vending machine devil.”

Denji squints at him. “You’re fucking with me.”

“It’s true,” Angel says. “The scariest part is he only takes ten-yen coins.”

Aki nearly chokes on his food, and Angel silently offers him a sip of his water. Aki spends the rest of his meal trying not to think too hard about which side of the glass he drank from.

Chapter Text

“I haven’t seen him all day,” Kobeni says, wringing her hands like she’s under police questioning. “He might still be in his room?”

Aki stares at her from where he’s paused his stride in the middle of the hallway. He hadn’t said anything to prompt this information besides a standard greeting as they crossed paths, yet here she is readily supplying it like he’d come to interrogate her.

He’s actually in the building for unrelated business—finishing up a mission report and miscellaneous busy work nobody else wanted to deal with—but clearly somewhere along the line his coworkers started assuming the only reason he has to be around is to corral Angel.

That assumption is irritating enough on its own, but in truth, the thought of calling on Angel had crossed his mind more than once this morning. Really, he has no one to blame but himself for being so predictable.

He sighs and mentally readjusts his plans for the day. “What wing is he in again?”

Speak with Kobeni for too long and her blatant anxiety begins to rub off on you. Aki is glad for her help, but even more so for her stammered farewell.

Angel’s room is located in a higher security wing of the building, past two checkpoints and a number of armed security. It all seems more for show than practicality—what are a few locked doors going to do against a devil?

Thankfully the hallways begin to look more like they belong in a regular apartment complex or hotel, the white linoleum and cinder block giving way to carpet and painted plaster. It’s eerily quiet for the middle of the day. Though, Aki supposes there’s no way they have enough non-human residents to fill all the rooms.

He counts his way up until he’s standing in front of the room number Kobeni gave him. Three sixes stare back at him from the plate. Aki wonders if this was some higher-up’s idea of a joke.

He lifts a hand to knock, but hesitates, letting his knuckles rest on the door’s smooth wood. The trek up to Angel’s room gave him enough time to conjure up a flurry of second thoughts. He’s never been the one to initiate their outings. They see enough of each other as is, and Aki is supposed to be the benefactor, lending his free time at Angel’s request. The arrangement they’ve fallen into relies on that precedent, and Aki isn’t sure what it would mean to reverse their roles.

Besides, what reason could he give for seeking Angel out on his own?

He couldn’t pass it off as a whim. Angel would see through that in a heartbeat. Yet when he thinks about falling back on honesty, his mind goes blank.

He can’t even honestly tell himself why he came to stand at Angel’s doorstep.

The door opens, jerking Aki out of his thoughts.

Angel is back in his public safety uniform today, though his suit jacket is missing and his tie is draped loosely over his shoulders. He stares up at Aki, unimpressed. “Forget how to knock?”

Over Angel’s head, Aki gets a glimpse of his sparsely furnished room. The unmade bed and the desk in the corner cluttered with books, magazines, and candy wrappers are the only signs of its inhabitant. “How did you know I was out here?” Aki asks.

“Your scent.”

“My—” Aki stops, his gaze flickering back to meet Angel’s. “Was that a joke?”

Angel quirks a brow. “No?”

“Oh,” Aki replies, resisting the urge to sniff his sleeve. “What do I smell like?”

He quickly realizes there are any number of responses Angel could give, a good majority of them rude. Despite being the cleanest member of his household, Power never fails to make snide comments about his “pitiful human smell,” something he couldn’t possibly wash off.

Aki braces himself for a similar remark, but Angel actually tilts his head as if considering. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and lets his eyes fall shut. “Smoke, mainly,” he says after a pause. “You smell sharp, like... a bonfire. Sharp and warm.” His brow furrows and his lips quirk in puzzled amusement. “You use lavender scented shampoo.”

Alright then. Aki thinks he would’ve handled an insult better. He swallows around his dry throat. “Useful party trick.”

Angel opens his eyes. “I don’t do parties. If you’re here to invite me to one.”

“No. No parties,” Aki says, getting his mind back on track. “I’m running errands, do you want to come?”

Angel studies him silently for a moment, then gives an almost imperceptible nod. “Okay.”

There’s no questions, no whys or probing for more information. Angel just retrieves his suit jacket from the closet and slips on his sneakers before closing the bedroom door. He moves to brush past, but Aki stops him with a hand hovering in front of his chest.

“Wait.”

Aki steps in front of him and tries his best not to loom.

Angel goes perfectly still, his gaze sliding up and his lips parting on an unspoken question. He doesn’t flinch as Aki’s hands come to skirt by his collar.

Aki’s heart beats faster in his chest for no reason he can specify, not quite fear, not quite anticipation. He pushes those odd instincts aside and sets to the task of knotting Angel’s forgotten tie, willing his hands steady.

Once he’s pulled the fabric taught and adjusted the collar to his liking, he steps back and gives a satisfied nod.

“You’re presentable now.”

Angel touches his fingers to his tie and doesn’t say a word.

The next time he speaks up is at the post office where Aki goes to pick up the mail he doesn’t want his housemates getting into.

“Why’s your water bill so high?” Angel asks, skimming the paper he pulled from one of Aki’s envelopes.

“You know it’s illegal to open other people’s mail,” Aki says.

Angel neatly folds the bill back up. “Do you take super long baths?”

“Denji and Power do.” Aki answers, slamming the small door of the PO box.

Angel trots behind him on his way to his next stop, chatty in a way Aki rarely sees him. He comments on the weather, their recent jobs, and what he ate for breakfast, all the while throwing out inane questions which Aki feels himself answering reflexively.

“Do you like hot or cold weather?”

“Neither.”

“What age did you start hunting devils?”

“Sixteen.”

“Favorite food?”

“Curry rice.”

“How tall are you?”

“A hundred-eighty centimeters.”

“Are you going to get any more piercings?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Do you like that series?”

Aki pauses, halfway through pulling a volume of manga from the bookstore shelf. Thankfully the shop is pretty empty this early in the day as the aisles are narrow, and Angel is already standing close to avoid bumping into the other patrons. He tilts his head, patiently awaiting Aki’s answer.

“What’s with all the questions?” Aki counters, handing the book over for Angel to peruse.

“Information inequality,”—Angel flips through a few pages one at a time—”You can look up whatever you want about me in my files, but I get to know nothing about you.”

Aki blinks. “I didn’t think you cared to know anything about me.”

“I didn’t.”

Aki thinks about telling Angel he hasn’t read his files, not out of disinterest but rather the small amount of common human decency he has left to cling to. He thinks about asking what makes him so worth knowing now. He thinks about crowding Angel up against the nearest bookshelf.

Aki shakes his head to clear it, and takes the volume from Angel’s idle hands.

“Denji likes this manga,” he says, tucking it under his arm. “I’m just picking up the latest release for him.”

“That’s awfully nice of you.”

“Shut up.”

“You care about them more than you let on, don’t you?”

Aki shoots him a glare and Angel mimes a zipping motion over his lips.

Aki thinks that marks the end of the questions for the day, but he’s later proven wrong in a spectacular fashion.

“Who’s Taiyo?”

Aki drops the glass bottle of soy sauce he was examining and watches in mute horror as it bounces off the supermarket tiles. Thankfully, it doesn’t shatter like he expects, instead rolling to a stop against Angel’s shoe.

Angel bends down to pick it up. “That could’ve been bad.”

“Where did you hear that name?” Aki snaps, gripping the handle of his basket.

“You said it the other night,” Angel replies, his calm voice like a soothing balm to Aki’s suddenly frayed nerves. “You said he was family.”

Aki wills himself to relax, tamping down the agitation rising in his gut. “Taiyo was my little brother. My responsibility. He died in the Gun Devil attack.”

He can’t bring himself to say anything more.

Angel takes the basket of food from Aki’s white knuckled grip and places the soy sauce inside. “There was someone like that in my life at one point. Someone I was responsible for.”

Aki looks up in surprise from the spot on the floor he’d been focusing on. As far as he knows, this is the first time Angel has mentioned his past. Angel has a troubled frown on his face, like he’s trying to remember something that’s slipped his mind.

“What happened to them?”

“I killed them,” Angel says quietly.

Aki suddenly feels very tired. “Well that makes two of us.”

Angel follows him dutifully through the rest of the store and checkout, though he draws the line at carrying even a single grocery bag. They step out just as the afternoon begins rolling into twilight. Aki’s stomach voices its protest at going hours without a meal, and he longs to return home and begin prepping the food.

“I can find my way back from here,” Angel says, his face silhouetted against the orange sky.

Aki stops short. “Oh. Alright.”

He doesn’t know why he thought Angel would have dinner with them. It was a stupid assumption. The pit in his stomach has to be from annoyance over buying enough portions for four, rather than disappointment.

“You know,” Angel begins, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t really have a reason to go out today or anything. Until you came by.”

Aki frowns. “Okay?”

“It wasn’t awful,” Angel says. “Thanks.”

The bags feel heavier than before in Aki’s hands.

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” He blurts out before he can find a reason not to.

Angel sizes Aki up like he can read his mind, and Aki quietly hopes that isn’t a secret Devil power he’s overlooked the entire afternoon.

“Not tonight,” Angel says eventually, huffing out a breath of laughter. “But you can ask me again next time.”

Aki nods, mood lifting as he watches Angel give a little wave before setting off.

Chapter Text

Post Darkness Devil, there’s a lot more staying in for the both of them.

Aki’s hospital stay is grueling, every urge to leave bed drained by his injury and growing anxiety over Denji and Power’s safety. They visit often until he’s discharged, Denji whittling apples for him day by day until they develop from amorphous blocks to little rabbits at his bedside.

Power likewise makes herself useful in the only way she knows how—narrating embellished stories of their unsupervised exploits, from disastrous grocery runs to an attempt at baking that, according to her, “definitely didn’t end in exploding the microwave! Promise!”

Aki mentally files that away as an inevitable work expense.

It’s never a dull moment with those two around, their company lighting up even the darkest corners of his barren hospital room. They’re a terror to the staff, of course. Aki is sure, were his condition not so pitiable, the doctors would have banned them from the premises weeks ago.

He doesn’t have the heart to reprimand them, especially not when Power manages to sneak Nyako into the hospital. She curls up in his lap immediately, kneading her paws into the bed sheets as she purrs her contentment. She’s as soft and warm as Aki remembers, and it takes every ounce of restraint in him not to just bury his face in her fur and cry.

The morning he’s cleared well enough to travel he makes a point to visit Angel.

He’s fast asleep when Aki arrives, statuesque under the covers as if carved from marble. His halo floats a inch or two above his face, and Aki spends a few moments contemplating the physics of the thing before sitting himself in the bedside chair. There’s a vase of wilting flowers on the end table, a mess of muted yellows and reds that reminds Aki of flesh and viscous fat. His stomach churns.

He tears his gaze away, back to Angel's sleeping form, his heartbeat slowing as he counts in time with the rise and fall of Angel’s breathing. The rhythmic motion pulls him into a quiet haze, until he’s nodding off himself.

When he jolts awake, the sun is peeking behind a crack in the curtains and placing its rays in perfect rows along Angel’s bed. He’s awake as well, sitting up with the sheet over his head like a shroud.

Or maybe, Aki thinks, a veil.

Angel shakes it off, dispelling the illusion. He doesn’t appear particularly thrilled to see Aki alive, but in his state, Aki supposes it’s hard to appear thrilled about anything.

“Have a good rest?” Aki asks in lieu of a greeting.

Angel looks at him, bleary eyed, his mouth a charming pout. “Water.”

Aki grabs the cup of room temperature water on the nightstand and scoots further up on his chair. The angle is awkward, and there’s a bit of fumbling involved before Angel is able to get his lips to the rim, but he gulps down the water so fast some stray drops slide down his chin and the line of his throat.

Angel leans back when he's drained the cup of its contents, swiping his tongue over his lips.

“Now if only I could get my hands on some blood,” he says darkly. “You’d think a hospital would have plenty to spare.”

Aki sighs, placing the cup back on the nightstand. “You obviously haven’t seen how desperate they get around blood drive season.” He pauses, settling in a bout of silence before continuing. “Is it inappropriate of me to ask how you’re doing?”

“So inappropriate,” Angel retorts, inching back so he can rest his weight against the headboard. “But I was going to ask you the same so we’re even.”

Aki almost chuckles at that. He rubs along the line of his bandaged shoulder, feeling the muscle spasm under his touch. The doctors said it’d be doing that for a while.

“I guess we’re both lucky they were such clean cuts.”

“Lucky?” Angel scoffs. “Now you’re just trying to upset me.”

Aki hesitates. “Are you? Upset, that is.”

“About what?”

Hell. The special division. Being partners. There are more things to be upset about than Aki has the energy to list.

“About everything.”

Angel turns his face towards the window, letting the sunlight fall across his face and glint off the corners of his halo. His expression twists into something resigned. “What does it matter? My being upset or not doesn’t change a thing.”

“It matters,” Aki says with a level of conviction he wasn’t aware he still possessed.

Angel’s eyes snap back to him.

“If it matters,” he says, after a moment of eyeing Aki warily. “I would say having no arms is a major annoyance, and I’d rather avoid taking any trips to hell for a while. But no, I’m not upset.”

“That’s good then.” Aki inclines his head, a weak smile gracing his features before he can stop it. “I’m glad.”

Angel’s brows furrow and he gives Aki a withering look. “On second thought, I’m terribly upset. But if you bring me some ice cream I won’t be anymore.”

“Will tea do?” Aki says, standing from his chair. “I passed a vending machine earlier.”

“Fine,” Angel replies breezily. “But make it two.”

Aki’s streak of bad luck rears its head once again as he reaches the end of the hall and realizes the vending machine on the third floor only takes ten-yen coins. The fully stocked rows of drinks mock him from behind the glass.

He gives it a mean spirited kick for the trouble.

The sound of hushed conversation reaches his ears over the hum of fluorescent lights, and he looks up to see a pair of nurses glancing in his direction. He recognizes one as Angel’s caretaker—the young woman who was checking Angel’s vitals when Aki first entered his room.

She had been polite but not talkative, and left as quickly as she worked.

The moment Aki makes eye contact she looks away, leading the other nurse by the arm into a room and closing the door with a quiet click.

He supposes subtlety isn’t considered an important skill for working in the medical field.

Aki never thought that he might garner a reputation, of all things, from his sporadic hospital stays. Then again, the staff had to become acquainted with Denji and Power by proxy, so maybe it was inevitable.

It doesn’t escape him either, how this probably looks—Hayakawa Aki, number one devil hater, going out of his way to visit the only devil in residence. What was anyone supposed to make of that?

Aki resigns himself to climbing to the fourth floor vending machine.

Angel is in the same position Aki left him, though now with an extra pillow at his back, and a full cup of water with a straw on the nightstand. The blinds are fully open, barely helping to combat the sterile feel of the room.

Angel raises a brow as Aki nudges the door shut with his hip, his arm occupied with two boxes of milk tea and a cold coffee. “Did you get lost?”

It had actually taken an embarrassing amount of effort on his part to open the stairwell doors with his hand full.

“I’m pretty sure your nurse thinks I’m bullying you,” Aki replies, dropping the drinks onto the covers.

“Killing me with kindness maybe,” Angel says, one of his wings curling around his shoulder to stop a can from rolling off the bed.

“That’s not what that means...” Aki trails off. “Just how well can you use those things?”

“Open this for me would you?”

Aki complies, stabbing the small straw through the top of the juice box. Angel gestures with his chin for Aki to place the drink between his knees.

“I’m not changing your sheets if you spill that all over yourself,” Aki says and Angel just rolls his eyes and bends over to take a sip.

Aki quietly marvels at his flexibility.

“How is Chainsaw? And the blood fiend.” Angel asks after enjoying his drink in silence. The second one is stashed under his pillow for later.

“The same as always,” Aki says, and then revises his statement. “Almost the same.”

He remembers how they were during their last visit—the two of them causing as much chaos as usual but Denji somehow quieter, and Power more reluctant to leave. Denji nearly had to drag her out of the room when the sun began to skirt the horizon line. “You’ll freak the fuck out again,” he’d said over and over until she’d finally tired herself out.

“Hm. Guess that’s to be expected.”

“I guess.” Aki stares down at his coffee. “You know Denji’s birthday is coming up.”

“Soon?”

“In a couple months,” Aki says, turning the can in his hand around and around and around.

Denji had seemed utterly mystified the first time Aki brought it up. Like his birthday was just another day that would come and go without any particular fanfare.

“He won’t shut up about his present,” Aki laughs. “Everyday it’s something new.”

“That kid is pretty easy to please,” Angel offers.

“I could get him something totally shitty and he’d be over the moon,” Aki shakes his head. “I haven’t planned anything yet, but I thought—”

His words catch in his throat. Power wanted to have a party, as if they even knew enough people to actually host one. She basically begged him, holding onto his leg until he’d pacified her with a “maybe.”

Aki swallows. “I thought— I don’t know. At this point maybe it’s stupid to plan anything.”

“Well what else are you supposed to do with your vacation days?” Angel says, and Aki's answering smile is strained.

“I want to do something for him. For them. God, If— If I could just—” There’s a burning sensation behind his eyes. The weight on his shoulders grows heavier. “Do you think…” he trails off, the lump in his throat suddenly too big to speak around.

Angel is quiet for a while, watching Aki like he’s the only thing worth looking at. He must make up his mind about something, as he nods to himself and kicks the sheets fully off his legs. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Aki sits up straight, stunned out of his daze. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” Angel shrugs. “It’s not like the Darkness Devil took my legs.”

The hospital grounds are surrounded by a tall wrought iron fence, separating them from the outside world. They’re out of the way from the city, the sound of wildlife and silence laying over the air like a blanket.

There aren’t any other people within sight and the hospital windows that Aki can see all have their shades drawn. All he can compare this atmosphere to is the graveyard he visits a couple times a year.

“It’s nice to get some peace for once,” Angel says as they stroll along a flower lined pathway looping around the building. “The city is always too loud.”

Aki thinks that he may have agreed with Angel at one point. Recently, he’s learned there are moments of peace to find within the eye of the swirling halcyon his life has become.

When the day is done and Power rests her head in Denji’s lap despite his grumbling. The way he unthinkingly pets her hair as they watch TV. When Denji starts clearing the table without being asked, stacking the dishes the way Aki taught him. How they’ve let their wardrobe mix together so much that Aki has to double check if a t-shirt is his before putting it on. The warm spot of sunlight where Nyako sleeps in the afternoon.

He wishes he could share these moments with Angel. He wishes he had enough time left to help Angel see.

Angel is short, the length of his steps smaller as a result, but Aki is so used to matching his stride it stopped bothering him ages ago. He sneaks glances as they walk side by side until his fingers start to itch.

Angel frowns as he pulls out his cigarettes and lighter. “They can kick you out for that.”

“I’ll get rid of it if anyone comes by,” Aki replies. “Better outside than in there.”

If he went another day without a smoke he’d truly start to lose it.

Angel watches as Aki lights his cigarette. “Do you get off on high risk low reward situations or something?”

“Or something.” Aki replies, returning his lighter to his jacket pocket. Usually that would be enough to end this line of questioning, but Angel is in a talkative mood today.

“No, really,” he says. “I can’t imagine why someone would do half the things you do if it wasn’t for some form of sexual gratification.”

Aki knows Angel is trying to get a rise out of him. He knows because it’s working.

Aki takes a deep inhale, the long awaited rush extra gratifying. He blows out a stream of smoke in one breath. “Spit it out.”

“I just can’t justify why you would do this. Any of it.” Angel gestures to the space between them as if to sum up the whole of their arrangement. As if it’s impossible to succinctly wrap every moment they’ve shared up into words.

“Besides out of the goodness of my heart?”

“Try again.”

Aki mulls this over, taking a few more drags. “It’s just something I wanted to do.”

It’s not a lie. The farthest thing from it. If he said he’s with Angel out of obligation, out of a desire to help—that would be a lie. These feelings aren’t kind or convenient. He’s sure they’re worse off for them.

He’s a fool for ever thinking otherwise.

“How is this any different,” Angel replies, voice droll,” from what you’re always doing?”

Throwing your life away. Aki fills in without much effort.

“It’s different because—” he pauses, rolling his cig between his fingers.

Angel sighs beside him, the affected one that means he’s putting in more effort than he cares to. When Aki turns to look, Angel stares back with a barely-there frown and brows knitted in honest exasperation, like he’s trying to understand and not happy about it. It’s an expression he wears often nowadays, or maybe just often around Aki.

“Because?”

Aki brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs, imagining it staining them black. His exhale comes a few moments later.

“Because I’m choosing you.” Aki keeps his gaze fixed on the curl of smoke rising before him. “I’m choosing you every day.”

“...They have a word for that, you know.”

“Autonomy?”

“Addiction.”

Attached, Himeno says, You always get too attached.

“It’s alright,” Angel adds. “We’ll join an addict recovery group together.”

“Somehow that’s not even close to the most outrageous thing you’ve said,” Aki quips but really his mind is repeating together, together, together.

With no warning, Angel steps off the cobblestone and over a flower bed, stopping below the bow of a tree. He looks back at Aki neither welcoming him near, nor sending him away.

Aki stamps out the embers of his discarded cigarette and joins him.

The dappled light falling between the leaves scatters across Angel’s shoulders, the shade a touch too cold to be comfortable.

“You were going to ask something before,” Angel says. “About those two.”

It takes Aki a second to recall.

“It wasn’t anything important,” he says, craning his head to study the gaps between the tree branches.

“Ask me.”

Angel’s expression is unguarded, free of judgement. Aki is comforted, despite himself.

“Do you think they’re going to be okay?”

Aki doesn’t know if that’s what he meant to ask, but it’s what ends up coming out. He does know that Angel is one of the only people who will give him a real answer without asking for elaboration.

“Eventually,” Angel says, and turns to lean his back against the trunk of the tree. “They’ll be okay, even when you’re gone. Eventually, I’ll be gone too. This tree will probably outlive both of us.”

Aki brushes his hand down the coarse bark of the trunk. Angel watches the path of his fingers as they slowly trail down to rest next to a shock of red hair.

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” Aki asks, pitching himself forward ever so slightly.

Angel scowls. “You didn’t ask to be comforted.”

“What if I asked?”

Angel's lips part, and Aki realizes they’re close enough now for their breathing to mingle, an exhale matching an inhale, a touch without contact. Angel looks up at him, his eyes divine fire. When Aki breathes in he’s lightheaded, like his lungs are still full of smoke.

It’d be so easy. The easiest thing in the world.

Angel blinks and snuffs out the flame. “I’ll take you under my wing.”

Aki huffs. “You’re using that phrase wrong.”

“So what?” Angel slides his back down the trunk until he’s sitting at its base, unbothered by the grass and dirt staining his hospital robes. “C’mere.”

Aki complies, settling beside him, and Angel wastes no time leaning his head on Aki’s shoulder. Aki wonders if this was an excuse for Angel to catch a quick nap.

“There, there,” Angel murmurs, “You’ve done well. It’s okay because you’ll go to Heaven.”

Aki laughs, the sound so much more wretched than he’s expecting. “Unlikely.”

“Then you’ll go to Hell,” Angel says, turning his cheek into the fabric of Aki’s sleeve. “And I’m a devil, so I’ll be there with you. Won’t that be nice?”

There’s an eternity in his words, enough that Aki could believe every breath of them. He can envision it so clearly as to almost mistake it for future sight. Angel is like a little furnace at his side, inviting him into the warmth of an eternal slumber.

“Together in Hell,” Aki says, closing his eyes. “Might not be so bad.”