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Damien groaned unhappily, glancing at the time. He shouldn’t have been awake, but thoughts kept plaguing his mind like a bad omen, and he couldn’t close his eyes without everything that had happened playing on rewind. Fire, and Pip, burnt to near ashes at his feet. The thought made him want to throw up, made his stomach churn and his heart drop to his feet.
But things had just…gone back to normal. They hadn’t really spoken about it, and Pip never once acted as if he blamed him. It irked him, the way Pip so easily moved on.
The way he just glossed over how much he hurt him.
It took the demon a week to regenerate, days Damien had spent flitting in and out of his room, never stopping, never resting. And when he woke up, he had felt a sickening mixture of relief and guilt, bubbling up in his chest and making him want to scream.
He just didn’t get it. His mind flashed quickly back to the image of Pip, burned and charred on the ground, and he shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temple as he laid his head down. Pip had been asleep next to him for hours, looking so… right. So peaceful.
Why did it feel so wrong?
Finally, his exhaustion crept up on him, and he sighed, letting his eyes drift closed.
Unluckily for him, it wasn’t a dreamless sleep.
Fire. He was surrounded by fire. Nothing new, that was kind of Hell’s motif, but this was different. It was his fire. His flames, billowed all up into the sky, surrounding him in ashes. He was on edge, hearing Pocket’s voice echoing around him.
He scowled, sending a shoot of fire near where he heard Pocket’s voice, but the voice simply appeared in a new area, sending him into a frenzy. Left and right, he shot out pillars of fire until he heard a cry and a thump, satisfaction brimming in his chest.
That is, until the voice of Pocket whispered coyly, “Wrong target.”
The words echoed in his chest, bouncing around in his mind as his blood went cold and he scrambled towards where he had previously heard the voice.
His throat filled with acid and disgust in himself as he stared down at the lifeless body of Pip, his face burned so horribly he was almost unrecognizable if it weren’t for who was gazing down at him. The smell of charred flesh filled the air, and he choked, clamping a hand over his mouth as his eyes filled with tears, shaking his head.
He was a monster.
The words from Pocket echoed back into his ears. Wrong target, wrong target, wrong target, it was an endless cacophony of his mistakes, his regret.
“I’m sorry-” He choked out, eyes spilling over with tears. “I’m-”
He shot awake, screaming out, “ Phillip I’m sorry !”
Beside him, the boy awoke, blearily rubbing his eyes. “Damien? Darling?” He muttered, sleepily pushing himself up to sit. “Are you alright?”
His surroundings came back to him. He was in the palace, in bed with Pip. It was nearly four in the morning. His chest heaved, tears welling in his eyes as he took in shuddering breaths. Pip’s face softened, and he frowned, opening his arms. “Did you have a nightmare?”
Without hesitation, Damien wrapped his arms around him, squeezing his eyes shut tight. The salty tears spilled down his face as he hoarsely whispered, “I had that dream again.”
“Oh,” Pip muttered, “ That dream.”
He smiled softly, pushing Damien away enough that he could wipe his tears, running his thumb along the red, blotchy area under Damien’s eyes, still wet from his crying. “Firefly, no matter what happens, I’ll always be here. My body could get destroyed day in and day out, and I’ll always come back, always return to you. My body could fade endless times, but my love never could.”
He poked his cheek. “I regenerate.” With a cheeky grin, he winked, “I’m a demon , baby. ” He tucked his hand under his chin, angling his hand just enough that his marriage ring gleamed in the light as if he were reminding Damien it was there.
Damien chuckled quietly, cheeks flushed at the joke his lover had made. His tears were dried now, replaced by the giddiness he got from how flustered he was, shaking his head. “Y-yeah you are-” He grinned down at his hands.
“I’m an angel-turned-demon, and you’re the king,” Pip chirped, sliding under his arm with practiced ease. “Sounds like a wonderful love story.”
The uneasiness left over in Damien faded as he pressed a kiss to his nose. “I’d like to see it as a movie.”
The laugh that came spilling out of Pip made him grin, and he slid lower in the bed, pressing more kisses to his face and neck. “My demon,” He hummed. “I like the sound of that.”
Slowly but surely, Damien felt his eyelids start to droop, felt Pip’s breathing even out, and they fell into a calm, dreamless sleep, leaving him finally content.