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When Angel gives you a call, you can hardly contain your excitement. It’s been a few long weeks since you handed him your business card.
He calls for seemingly no reason. The conversation is short, and the devil carries the same bored tone he did during your last meeting.
“Did you want another portrait? Things at work have been slow lately, but that just means I have time for some personal projects.”
It’s quiet on the other line for a moment. “Not really, I’m just bored. They don’t give me much of anything around here.”
You let out a puff of air, the barest form of laughter. “What do you do when you’re not bothering someone else?”
“They gave me a television, doesn’t play much though.”
“Do you have a VCR? Or were they that cruel to leave you with only cable?”
He hesitates for a brief moment. “Is that the box underneath? The people around here are assholes, so I haven’t had any use for it.”
You’re already shuffling through your collection, looking for a few specific movies. “Now, did you call me just to hear my voice, or is this an official invitation?” Despite the time of night, you’re already slipping a pair of shoes on.
“If you’re offering entertainment, then I suppose I wouldn’t mind.”
—-
Angel lives in a small shabby apartment, attached to the public headquarters. It’s hardly an improvement from the basement you first painted him in, but you don’t mind the small space. Your apartment is crowded with paper and pens shoved into every available space.
The devil’s place consists of three small rooms. The kitchen and living area share a cramped room, branching off into a skinny bedroom and bathroom that holds only a shower and toilet.
The ceiling is low, though that doesn’t seem like much of a problem with Angel’s small stature. He stands in the middle of the room, observing you and you poke and prod at his shelves. There are a few stray books lingering around, though they mostly look untouched. His entire room is vaguely impersonal in a way that bothers you slightly.
“What did you bring?” Angel’s eyes move from your face to your bag, which you dropped near the front door.
You smile and dart over to spill its contents. “I brought horror movies. They’re not illegal, but most are rated NC-17 and lots of shops don’t even sell them.”
“I see why.” His fingers skim over the cases, displaying large warnings and screaming women.
You shrug. “I think psychological things like that are interesting. Especially when they’re not about devils, discovering other facets of human terror is always a unique experience.”
“I thought you liked devils?”
“Oh I do,” you confirm. “I just like other things too.”
Angel meets your gaze for a moment before lifting up one of the tapes. “You like… Silence of the Lambs?”
Your eyes light up. “That’s a good pick! I mean, it’s kinda shitty with its views on gender, but the story is cool and the cover for it is badass as hell.”
“It’s a bug and some eyes.”
“It’s representative of the themes and key elements within the movie, which you’ll know once we watch it.”
Angel doesn’t dignify that with a response. He gestures towards the VCR and settles onto the small and threadbare couch.
You fiddle with the box for a moment. It’s old but seems to work just fine. Half your day was already spent rewinding all the damn movies just so you didn’t have to bother with that now.
As the first few notes play over a forest sky, you shuffle around his kitchen. If you’re going to have a movie night then cheap microwave popcorn is a must. You also have a few packs of red vines alongside a lukewarm bottle of soda waiting to be consumed as well.
Angel’s couch is small, but you do your best to give him space. The popcorn bowl acts as a nice wall between the two of you, and you’re always careful to not have your hand brush against his whenever you reach for a handful.
Though the devil attempts to act indifferent, you can see his clear interest in the movie. Most of your time is spent absorbing his reactions, as opposed to watching the film itself. You’ve seen the movie a dozen separate times, always finding a new piece to fixate on. Seeing the pieces of Buffalo Bill’s capture early on gets better every single time.
Angel’s eyebrows are knit together, lips gently pursed. “They don’t treat Starling very well.”
“I thought you enjoyed human suffering.”
He bristles slightly. “Humans should all suffer equally, and it’s best if it’s my doing.” The angel devil pauses for a brief moment. “I like Hannibal though, even if it isn’t a very clever name.”
“That’s true. Do you think that it’s his birth name, or maybe he changed it after eating his first victim?”
Angel blows stray hair off of his face. “It’d be a shitty thing for a mother to do.” His voice is flat, but the joy in it is still relatively apparent.
You occasionally exchange other quips and thoughts throughout the movie, but over time the silence envelopes the two of you. It’s not uncomfortable, and the warm popcorn is good enough company.
Though even that disappears over time, and you place the empty bowl onto the carpet so more room on the already small couch is free. Slowly over time, you’re dragged toward the center. There’s a clear pit in the couch, likely an imprint from where Angel usually sits. It has a hold on the devil too, but he doesn’t acknowledge the fact that you’re slowly drifting closely together other than subtly shifting every few minutes.
Even once your shoulder’s brush you don’t bother to move. Angel’s wings are tucked safely behind him, skin hidden beneath a soft hoodie. This is the closest you’ve been with a real devil, and your attention is caught somewhere between the subtle warmth of his arm against yours and the light from the television. The light wraps around his face, warming his cold eyes.
On the screen, Buffalo Bill is busy screaming at Catherine to give him the dog back. The scene is almost humorous in a way as the two yell back and forth.
“When does he kill her? I would’ve done it already, she’s annoying.”
“Not to spoil anything for you, but she doesn’t actually die.”
His shoulders sag slightly. “What’s the other movie you had? Can’t we watch that one instead?”
“No! We can watch it after, just be patient.”
Angel sinks deeper into the couch, eyes half-lidded. A few stray feathers peek out from behind his back. Inside your pocket, the one he gave you a few weeks ago is crumpled in your pocket, no longer in the pristine condition it once was in. If you had been a tiny bit less selfish you would’ve laminated it and sent it to the archives to sit in a box for the rest of forever.
On the screen, Starling is busy playing cat and mouse with Bill as the man stalks her through the dark. You were enthralled and anxious the first time you witnessed the scene. Angel shows mild interest, eyeing the knife that each character carries.
For a moment you’re lips part, ready to share more horror trivia, but instead, you bite your tongue. The mood has been effectively set, you won’t let your big mouth ruin it. The devil is showing genuine intrigue and you don’t want to disrupt that. His eyes are alight, a bold opposition to the dull, almost glassy, look he carried most of the night.
And right as she sinks the knife into Buffalo Bill’s throat, Angel smiles. His shoulders relax slightly, though you don’t know when they tensed up.
—-
Later when Hannibal calls from across the country Angel sinks further into the couch. He turns to face you (you’ve been staring at him unabashedly for some time).
“I enjoyed the movie.”
You grin at him. “Really? Oh, I’m glad! It’s a little slower of a movie, but it’s pretty classic.”
“You talk a lot.”
“Ah, sorry. I can’t help but ramble about things I find interesting.”
He nods carefully. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I mean, I don’t care about horror movies or other devils or anything, but the noise is ok.” Angel pauses for a moment longer before adding, “And I liked the blood.”
The words come off as slightly callous, but they seem kind to you. “That’s nice. I don’t have very good taste, but I like things with a lot of death too.”
“Hm, are you sure you’re not a devil?”
You let out a low chuckle. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”
He avoids answering. “I want to watch another. How much sleep do humans need?”
“I’m already used to being sleep deprived.”
“What about the other movie you mentioned before?”
You rifle through the titles on the coffee table. “Child’s Play is really good. They actually got rid of most copies because even with the cautionary rating it was too scary and too widespread. If you track the fear of dolls you’ll see a huge increase in ‘88.”
He points to the other copies. “But they still made sequels?”
“Well, the director had to switch production companies and tone down the horror, but he’s pretty loyal to the franchise. There’s even a new one coming out next year.”
“I don’t want to watch three movies.”
You sit up a little straighter. “I thought you were enjoying them.”
“Well now I want to do something else,” he huffs.
Nudging his legs with your own, you lean closer to his face. “I’m doing you a favor by being here y’know. I can just leave if you’re gonna be sour.”
Angels blows air into your face, making you crinkle your nose. If he was a human (or at the very least if he had non-lethal skin) you would poke his cheek. Instead, you settle for nudging his leg with more ferocity than before.
You’re so close to angel. He stares up at you through dark coppery eyelashes. You commit the image to memory. Once you get home you’ll try over and over to capture what they look like.
Pulling back you settle sideways against the couch, leaning against the armrest. You’re curled into yourself, trying to mind his space better.
“I thought you were going to leave because my presence is so unbearable.” There’s a hint of actual emotion in his voice, a mix of sarcasm and amusement.
You peer at him from over your knees. “I’m comfortable like this. Plus tormenting you with my presence is my form of payback.”
Angel looks so human like this. He’s curled up in a mirror image of your position. The devil’s wings are tucked behind him, nearly invisible. A few inches above his head the halo hovers. If you crop it out he looks like an average salaryman.
He regards you in a similar fashion. If you could make a deal right now, you’d want to know what Angel is thinking about.
“What are you thinking about?”
The devil opens his eyes, they had slipped closed at some point. “You like devils a weird amount. Y’ wanna be one or something?”
“You like ice cream.”
“I’d be an ice cream cone,” he counters. “It’d be a simple and short life.”
You curl up into yourself even more. “Well, I don’t want to be a devil, no offense.”
“It’s fine.” His mouth barely mouths. For a moment his tongue peeks out from between his lips. “I’m tired,” He complains.
“All we’re doing is talking.”
His hand dangles off the side of the couch. “That’s still too much work.”
You force your eyes to stay open. “I can leave if you’d like.”
“It’s fine.” Angel already looks like he’s asleep, though his words carry surprising clarity. “The sound of your voice is nice.”
Your cheeks are warm. If you sleep here, you wonder if you’ll ever wake up. He could simply brush a hand against your cheek for a few brief moments.
Grunting you move to sit up slowly. “It’s fine. I have a cat at home, she’ll scratch my curtains up if I don’t feed her tonight.” Your bones pop as you stand.
“And they say I’m a devil.”
You push your movies back into your bag, and pop Silence of the Lambs out from the VCR. The popcorn and candy and soda are gone. Doing the polite thing you scoop the trash and crumbs into a bowl for easy disposal. Angel watches you through one open eye.
“You’ll be upset in the morning if you sleep like that.”
“I’m always upset in the morning.”
You smile, shrugging your bag over your shoulder. Angel’s apartment doesn’t have any windows, but you know it’ll be dark outside.
“Goodnight.”
He grunts but doesn’t respond properly.
—-
Angel sleeps on the couch. He wakes up suddenly in the early hours of the morning, sore and feeling a bit lost. Aki will probably yell at him for being sluggish during work.
Dragging himself off the couch he trips over the coffee table.
A few VHS cases scatter across the wood. You left all three copies of Child’s Play for him. Angel won’t watch them now, he’d much rather sleep, but he picks up the tapes and puts them back on the table for later.