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It’s a comfortable routine by now that the Angel Devil and Aki have fallen into. One that’s easy, entertaining and a way to kill time whenever it’s their off days, which, more often than not, line up together.
Usually, when they both have the day off and Aki is needing a much needed break from Power’s and Denji’s godforsaken antics, he hops by Angel’s small, dingy apartment. The Agency must not pay devils all that particularly well or what Angel does get paid, they spend on sweets and snacks that have to be unhealthy, even for a devil.
Aki hadn’t expected something like this to sprout from their partnership. It was something that neither of them anticipated, really, with Angel’s dislike for humans and Aki’s hatred for devils. But, here they are, lounging boredly on Angel’s thread barren, uncomfortable couch where the spring coils dig into Aki’s spine. Aki really doesn’t care, even as he knows his spine will be sore once he stands. He’d much rather be here with Angel than those two rascals who occupy his house, hellbent on irritating Aki every chance they can get their grubby hands on. Aki is half sure they are doing it on purpose. Aki doesn’t have much time left as is and Power and Denji seem to drain him of his ever dwindling time, even more than Angel has, surely. Aki winces at the thought and lets a sigh dribble from his lips, the reminder still a sensitive nerve.
There’s some shitty movie playing on the TV. It’s an older movie and probably not the right introduction to Angel who's curious about the human media Aki insists they watch. The TV itself is a small box that’s also coincidentally missing the remote. It had been a gift to Angel from the tenants a few doors over who were looking to get rid of it. They had practically barged into Angel’s apartment and handed it over, leaving no room for argument. They had upgraded to a better, more expensive one, they stated. It’s sat unused for a while, a thin layer of dust forming on the top. Aki was the one who convinced Angel to actually use it. Angel never got rid of it and maybe that had been a godsend for times like these. They never quite had the energy or time to be bothered by taking it down to the dumpster. Aki enjoys it, though, as it gives them something to occupy time Aki comes over. (Even though Aki is the one who has to get up to switch the channel, adjust volume and pause every time.)
The movie definitely has not captured either of their attention. The plot is all over the place, the characters lack any development and the CGI is laughable. Angel boredly blinks at the screen, colours shining across their pale, milky skin in the darkly lit room. Their mind is drifting off, completely in their own head. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up and they whip their head towards Aki, who’s staring at them intently.
Angel can’t particularly think of any reasons Aki is staring at them so hard. The bowl of cheap popcorn has been empty for some time; Angel is sure there’s nothing on their face.
“You’re staring,” they state like it’s the simplest thing. Aki tears his gaze away from Angel like it’s a sin he’s embarrassed about. A venial one, though Aki seems to act like it’s mortal.
“Sorry,” Aki says easily. At least he has the gall to actually look apologetic.
“Hmm,” Angel hums. They narrow their usually large, puppy eyes at Aki. “Why were you?”
Angel doesn’t care, really. At least, not all that much. They’re curious, of course, Aki is not one to apologise so easily, or stare. There’s something on his mind and Angel wants to know what.
The question seems to make Aki bashful, embarrassed, a newfound expression Angel has yet to see on him. It’s a good expression, rather cute on his sharp features and Angel drinks it in as if it’s the wine at communion, gulping greedily from the golden chalice.
For a moment, Angel doesn’t think Aki will respond, but he peeps up, voice wavy. “You’re very androgynous.”
Angel blinks at Aki, a little taken aback, a little curious.
Angel’s heart in their chest does a strange little fanfare. The wings betwixt their shoulder blades fluff, a display of emotion Angel can’t seem to exhibit on their face. It was not an answer Angel was expecting, though they are unsure what they were even envisioning in the first place.
They know they’re androgynous, but it’s something different to hear someone say it, to speak it into existence. They do it intentionally, of course. The long hair, full lips. Thin, almost delicate body, narrow waist. Wide hips, flat chest, defined collarbones, small, pretty hands and feet. Fluffy wings, high cheekbones, spruce dustings of hair on arms and legs.
Sometimes it makes people do a double take and there's something about that so humorous to Angel. Humans…
“And?” They quip, urging Aki on.
“And…” Aki trails off. His eyes flash back to the screen, where the movie is still playing, forgotten. Aki turns back to the devil sitting alongside him on the couch. Sapphire eyes meet murky red, red like the sand of the sea. Angel’s droopy eyes do not depart from his figure, not even for a second. “I don’t know.”
“I’m sure you do,” Angel huffs.
They raise their legs onto the couch, soles plush on the cushions. They push their knees to their chest, hugging their thighs and leaning their chin on bony legs. Bright eyes bore holes into Aki’s very being. They shine so bright, bright as the burning bush against a barren, desert wasteland.
Aki swallows and Angel watches. His prominent adams apple bobs as he swallows down his saliva and maybe anxieties along with it.
They are far enough away on the couch that it’s safe, but close enough that Angel can feel Aki’s warm breath fanning across their face, just barely. Wisps of life tickling against their forehead, brushing crimson strands askew.
They continue staring at each other, Angel’s glance born and brewed from a yearning curiosity and Aki’s from being unable to snap his eyes away. Aki sometimes forgets Angel is still a devil at heart, at their very core, for right now they look nothing like one. They look like…well, an angel. An angel of heaven, features lovely and cherubic, looking like a marble sculpture chiselled by the finest artist. Their halo glitters like jewels of gold, pure ichor. Aki wants to reach up, to trace against the fine lines of Angel’s sharp collarbones, run his thumb against soft, full lips, grace his fingerpads on Angel’s tongue. He knows he can’t. Angel’s touch is awfully ironic, an ethereal and divine being born from Hell itself. A cruel existence, doomed from the start.
Aki clears his throat, impure thoughts about his coworker of all people finally settling in. How mortifying, but he doesn’t dare look away, not when Angel is looking at him so expectantly.
The heat of Aki’s gaze warms Angel’s cold frame. Angel is only wearing a loose fitting cotton shirt that hangs from their shoulder. The holes that are fitted around their wings are cut sloppily, clearly Angel’s own doing. Their plaid boxers are barely visible with how large the shirt is, the hem slipping halfway down their thighs. It looks as if they aren’t wearing anything under the oversized shirt at all when standing and Angel is struck with how underdressed they feel in Aki’s presence, who wears a tight long sleeve and sweatpants. Maybe it’s how Aki’s eyes slowly but surely fall to their throat, collarbones and further, further, further to any exposed skin. Angel knows lust is a sin, but they’re not sure if they want to be holy with how saccharine the lewd and lascivious gaze tastes as it lingers upon bare skin.
Angel blinks, shifts a little and watches as Aki scrambles to look back up to Angel, caught red handed. The once heady stares turn back to it’s litheness, gentle and calm as holy water on the forehead. Cool, calm, pure once again.
It strikes Angel all at once what Aki is wondering, what he’s questioning and debating. What they’ve been asked several times over. What Aki hadn’t asked miraculously in their partnership.
“Are you asking my gender, Aki?” Angel punches the words out dangerously, the name of their companion and partner dripping from their tongue like it’s blasphemous, sacrilege.
Aki’s face goes a beautiful shade of red, red as the apple Adam handed over to Eve. Red as wine, red as the blood of Jesus. Rich and smooth.
“I don’t mean any offence. Just curious, is all.”
“I see,” Angel hums in confirmation. They breathe in. Ivory wings fluff, twitch and move in a more comfortable position behind their back. The movie dialogue is but a distant hum. “You humans confine yourself to constructs like gender from birth. Angels, and maybe some devils by proxy, don’t.”
Aki’s eyes watch them intently as they speak.
“Questioning things like this is so tiring and draining,” Angel says and it’s truthful. Such an arduous process that can take forever and Angel doesn’t have the energy for it. Aki snorts in response because the response is so painfully Angel he finds it humorous. A rare smile stretches on his lips and Angel finds it to be quite pretty.
Angel shrugs nonchalantly. Their toes wiggle onto the cushions and they scoot further into the couch. Aki is still watching them but Angel turns their face back to the screen. “I don’t care for gender. Angels are divine creatures and have none. Devils, too, mostly. I like to think I’m the same. View me as you want, male, female, none, both.”
(Aki understands Angel’s whole ‘devil first, angel second’ spiel, but with the increasing time spent in Angel’s presence, Aki feels as if they present more virtuous qualities than ones he’d see in devils.)
Angel does care, somewhat, at least. The scars that span across their chest do speak of such. It matters how they present themselves, but they don’t exert their energy on those who don’t bother to fathom or understand. They’ve met all sorts of people from walks of life, some mean, some nice.
They usually try to avoid, but with Aki…they can’t help themselves. Aki is like the forbidden fruit and Angel is mere inches from biting in, spattering both of them in pain, in a film of regret and remorse. They try to stop that sprout of hope in their chest for something more. Angel’s want is lethal and with their affliction of touch, it doesn’t end well. They will syphon the one they love with a mere touch and they thought they could live with that all too well before they met Aki. But now they crave and they want and they envy.
The two months that Angel involuntarily stole from Aki will taste and feel sweeter and kinder than anything in the entire world.
“Oh,” Aki breathes after a short moment, seeming to understand. He sounds a little taken aback, but nods. There’s no hints of underlying disgust or anger, but Angel never expected such from Aki in the first place. “Okay. That makes sense.” Aki eventually settles on, turning his face back to the screen as well. The movie isn’t what their attention is drawn to in the least.
It’s silent for a moment. The heater in Angel’s apartment thrums in the background, an annoying noise that makes Aki irate after a while. Aki has no clue how Angel puts up with it.
The movie plays for a little longer without words spoken between the two before it rolls to the credits, the ending making absolutely zero sense for the movie was mostly forgotten. Angel takes their long legs off the couch and stretches them out, bones crackling. Their wings fluff out and smack Aki square in the face. Aki groans and casts Angel a disapproving look, which Angel at least looks a little sorry. He’s glad Angel’s wings and hair won’t steal days and months and years from him, at least. Maybe it's a small blessing for such a dastardly curse.
“I’m tired,” Angel says, tucking their wings back and stretching out sore limbs. Their legs move, knees and ankles cracking. Aki stares, unabashed. They’re so thin and well sculpted and by Gods, long. Aki has always seen them wearing the uniform high waisted slacks and it’s almost a little startling to see Angel out of them. The shirt looms off their small frame and if Aki didn’t know previously, he’d think Angel isn’t wearing anything under.
“When are you not,” Aki mutters under his breath.
Angel gives a low-energy shrug. The screen’s light casts upon their face, highlighting all the curves and dips of their features. Angel’s eyelashes flutter, trying to keep their eyes open but failing miserably. Now that Aki notices, they look rather exhausted, sleepiness and fatigue clinging to them like a second skin. Aki can only guess it’s been a rather tough week.
It’s not all that late, maybe inching into seven or eight PM. Then again, Aki doesn’t know what Angel’s sleep schedule is like, he hasn’t stayed over this late yet, despite the many times he’s come over. Aki supposes he’s overstayed his welcome if Angel is already about to fall asleep.
“I should get going so you can go to bed,” Aki suggests and Angel releases a rather pathetic whine at that.
Angel slumps, body falling against Aki’s own. Aki goes ramrod for a moment and when he doesn’t feel that creeping of dread, that sickeningly oily sensation of his time falling through his fingers like sand, he calms himself. Then again, he’s wearing a long sleeve and sweatpants, while Angel has chosen to wear a short sleeve and boxers. Still, it’s a rather dangerous game, and Aki is surprised when Angel doesn’t even comment on it. They are usually the one freaking out when Aki gets within mere inches, muttering harsh words about Aki’s death wish. Not now, though, as Angel seems to already be nodding off.
Their head rests on Aki’s shoulder, dusty pink locks tickling bare flesh. Soft, plush thighs press into Aki’s clothed ones and Aki can feel the touch feathers into his back, all too gentle. Aki casts a precursory glance down, seeing how Angel’s face has gone completely relaxed. Aki has to look away, for there’s something dangerous stirring inside him. Also, looking at how peaceful Angel looks has Aki feeling a little tired himself.
“Hey, let’s get you to bed.”
Angel huffs. “Mhm. No.”
“Angel,” Aki warns, but there’s no venom following it, only fondness sewn in through the sweet tasting name.
“Don’ want to move.”
Aki releases a long sigh. He knows how god awfully stubborn Angel can tend to be and once they make up their mind, there’s little that can change it. But this isn’t safe. They could move in the night and Aki could get his entire life siphoned away before daybreak comes. That’s not even mentioning the fact Aki shouldn’t stay the night, not while Power and Denji are unattended to at the apartment. That’s not a wise decision, far from one. Aki can’t even think to fathom the mess they would make.
“I can’t stay the night, Angel, what if you touch me accidentally while sleeping?”
Angel peels his eyes open to give the most venomous glare at Aki, like he’s committed the most heinous crime for simply bothering Angel in his sleep.
“I won’t,” they groan. “It’d wake me up immediately. Now stop talking and be a better pillow.”
Aki goes to protest, but suddenly Angel is shifting themselves into a more comfortable position. They splay themselves on the couch on their side, wing bones digging into Aki’s outer thigh and head cushioned on Aki’s own thighs. This proximity is unreal, unfamiliar and Aki’s heart races in his chest. Angel doesn’t seem to even care, with the way they close their eyes and nearly immediately fall asleep. Aki’s hands awakwardly hover above the devil’s sleeping figure, as if he doesn’t know if it’s safe to touch.
He quietly sighs and slowly lets the tension trickle into an abyss of a memory. Angel wouldn’t let him leave, anyways, there’s no point in arguing. He just really hopes Denji and Power won’t absolutely decimate his apartment while he’s away…he should probably send them a text, just in case.
He does, reaching for his phone and sending a quick group text to both of them. He tells them to behave and that if they don’t manage to fuck up the apartment, he’d make their favorite meals. A good enough incentive, he thinks, because both of them respond eagerly that there won’t be a single item out of place. Yeah, sure, Aki scoffs. Then, there’s a slew of annoying texts, many of which are Denji sending winking and flirty emoji’s and asking about Angel. Power follows suit, of course she does, and Aki has to shut off his phone for his own sake, face blaring such a vibrant red he’s sure he’s hot the touch.
Aki looks down at Angel laying on his lap. Their breathing is steady, slow and they look the epitome of pure peace. Aki feels a curl of fondness in his throat and he reaches a hand down to gently run fingers through Angel’s hair carefully. It’s soft under his touch, wavy and pretty. For how lazy Angel is, they clearly take good care of themselves.
Aki’s hand then strays to a wing. He knows he really shouldn’t, he knows that, but the temptation is too strong. Those sprawling wings always look so soft and it drives Aki up the walls to be so close but never actually thread fingers through them. He caves easily, hand burrowing into Angel’s wings.
And by the Gods, they are silky. The feathers themselves are downy, as gentle as a whisper in open air. Aki has seen them take bullets before and can’t fathom how with how gentle they feel under his touch. He touches them gently, running a finger down a spare, singular spine of a feather. Angel lets out something akin to a whine and rubs his cheek against Aki’s thigh before settling back down, asleep.
Aki’s heart bursts into burning and bright warmth and he can feel the wisps of adoration spread throughout him. He’s whipped, he knows he is, he’s but Angel’s humble servant, answering to every whim and Aki handing himself over to each beck and call.
He’s not too sure if he would stop even if he wanted too. Not when Angel is so warm and sweet, so divine and lovely.
Aki rests his hand on Angel’s sprawling wing and lets the repetitive motion of digits petting through feathers lull him to sleep. He’s not an easy sleeper, always plagued with nightmares and insomnia, but that night he falls asleep quickly and soundly, Angel’s presence soothing him.