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"A-hey, a-hey, hey."
They finish singing at the same moment, and the last word of the refrain is more greeting than song.
"Hey," Gabriel says, and Beelzebub smiles at him. He and the demon he loves stand in their kitchen - the one in the little house in Edinburgh they’d bought when they realized how they felt and started making plans. They'd bought it so they could meet away from prying eyes as much as anything, but it's as good a place as any to regroup - and to start the rest of their lives. They're safe. They're both alive, and they're free- and Beelzebub is looking at him with lingering worry in their eyes.
"Are you alright?" they ask, and Gabriel smiles and nods.
"Yeah, I am," he reassures. "It's been a Hell of a week, but yeah."
Beelzebub's grip on his arms tightens as if they're afraid he'll be stolen from them again.
"Why are you alright?" Beelzebub demands. "How are you alright?"
"I just- am," Gabriel answers truthfully. At least- he thinks it's the truth. "I'm me again. I'm not discorporated and I'm not Falling and I'm not eating that stuff that Aziraphale called black pudding but it's not pudding, it's some kind of congealed- blood - stuff that I didn’t enjoy at all. The hot chocolate was good though. And the cake. And -"
And he’s babbling, he thinks with a stab of unfamiliar concern. He’s running off at the mouth the way he’s never, ever done before. He stops, catching himself by raising a hand to his mouth and balling it into a fist in front of his runaway lips. He doesn't babble. He's the archangel fucking Gabriel and he doesn't babble, except that he's not, and he does, because this week -
This week, his coworkers tried to wipe his memory and separate him from his partner forever. He remembers their faces when they’d passed down the sentence. He remembers their smug, unconcerned tones, and the moment he’d realized he was going to have to flee the only home he’d ever known.
"I'm..babbling," he recognizes. He feels his partner's fingers tighten around his, and then, without much warning at all, he stops being alright. "I’m me again, but I’m babbling and - oh Beez," he says, voice wobbling. He looks at Beelzebub, and the worry in their eyes is the final straw. He stumbles forward, sits down in a chair at their kitchen table, and, as they sit down to join him and wrap their arms around him, he wipes at the wetness that’s started appearing at the corners of his eyes. He stares at his fingers, briefly wondering if there is something wrong with his corporeal form now that he’s left Heaven behind.
“It’s called crying,” Beelzebub murmurs in his ear. “Don’t worry, it’s normal. Go on. Let it happen.”
“And - and the way my chest feels tight and I’m breathing weird?” he asks through the said symptoms, and Beelzebub holds him tight.
“Yeah, that too,” they reassure, and with that, Gabriel gives in to what his body wants him to do. He sobs into his partner’s shoulder, and clings to them.
“They were gonna just - just - wipe my memory - like that!” he sobs, and snaps his fingers, or tries to. “The minute I argued, the minute I wouldn’t do what they wanted -”
“I know,” Beelzebub says. Their mouth is down-turned, and there’s a pain in their eyes that has nothing to do with what Gabriel has just gone through. Shame cuts through Gabriel like a knife at the expression.
“When - when you Fell -” he starts, and Beelzebub shakes their head.
“It was a long time ago,” they insist. “It hurt, but I don’t miss Heaven. Getting thrown out was the start of my life, not the end. And no one wiped my memory, or tried to. Don’t make it about me.”
He takes a deep breath, and feels himself shaking as he does so.
He was part of the Fall, he realizes. He was there.
How many had he personally thrown from the Heavens during the war? And how many of them had done nothing more than ask a question, or say no to the wrong angel? Had-
Had any of them been Beelzebub?
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs miserably, and Beelzebub hugs him tighter.
“Silly angel,” they answer, voice tinged with sadness this time. “It wasn’t your fault. Not really. Besides, if I hadn’t Fallen I might never have met you, and if I hadn’t been Lord of the Flies when this all happened, you might be doing - whatever it is they were going to do to you once they’d taken you away from me forever.”
They both shudder at that.
“I’d never have made it out without you,” he says at last, and feels Beelzebub bury their face in his shoulder.
“I was so scared you hadn’t,” they confess, and they sit there in each other’s arms for a few minutes, silent. It had been close. Too close - too frightening.
He's still wearing Aziraphale's clothing
It's twee and ill-fitting and it reminds him of the days he'd spent sitting in the spare room, looking at where the furniture wasn't as Crowley had put it.
The others- Michael and Uriel and even the Metatron- had intended to leave him like that. No memory. No skills. Gormless and helpless and not Gabriel in the slightest.
"They'd have named me something horrible that wasn't my real name and I'd never have spoken to another living soul again," he realizes, and it's enough to start him crying all over again. He clings to Beelzebub, and feels the tears roll down his cheeks unimpeded. They'd tried to kill him.
He nearly died. He nearly left Beelzebub behind. It's a horrible feeling.
"They're not going to touch you ever again," Beelzebub swears. "I won't let them. You're safe, my angel. I promise."
They hold him tight, and Gabriel lets himself shelter in their arms, safe from the world for this one moment. He doesn't notice when his clothes begin to change, but by the time he pulls away, he's wearing a rather familiar suit and scarf.
"Is this-?" he asks, and Beelzebub smiles.
"One of my demons caught an angel interrogating a tailor, asking if he had an address on file for you with your suit in his hand," they respond. "I took the liberty of taking possession. Why did you take your clothes off?"
"I was stalling for time," he answers. "I needed something to do that would work as cover while I put my memory in the fly."
"So you stripped buck naked and ran to Earth without so much as a thong on?" They ask.
“A thong?” he asks.
“Yeah. Skimpy bit of cloth that covers your bits and stays on by sliding in between your arse cheeks in the back,” they answer, and Gabriel blushes. He checks his underwear. Yes- they're his, retrieved by his darling demon. He makes a mental note to investigate these “thongs” and see if he wants to wear one.
"I was in kind of a hurry," he defends, and Beelzebub tries valiantly to cover their grin.
"Of course," they say. They raise a hand to his face, and stroke his cheek with their thumb. “My brave, sweet Gabriel,” they murmur, and Gabriel smiles.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” he says sincerely.
“You did everything you could,” Beelzebub insists. They pull back, sitting on their chair properly instead of leaning forward to embrace him now. “That trick with the fly was really clever.”
“Thanks,” Gabriel says. The word is still new in his mouth. He’s had so few gifts, and even fewer genuine compliments to respond to with this expression of appreciation. Maybe now that they’re free, there will be more. “Beez?” he asks, and his partner leans forward again, elbows on their thighs, meeting his gaze head-on.
“Yes?” they answer.
“What does it feel like to Fall?” he asks.
“It hurts like nothing you’ve ever felt before. If you had Fallen, you’d know,” they answer, and Gabriel takes a deep breath.
“If they decide not to let me go after all - if they decide to punish me -” he starts, and Beelzebub reaches forward again and takes his hands.
“No one is going to touch you,” they reiterate. “No one. No one is going to take your memories, and the only one telling you to get naked had better be me from now on.”
Gabriel stops speaking at that. His brain short-circuits and for a moment, there is only the succession of images his mind produces at that sentence. He manages to regain control of his tongue in his suddenly dry mouth an instant later.
“You - want that?” he asks, and Beez smiles at him.
“Any time, anywhere, my love,” they answer, and Gabriel can’t help but smile.
“If I wear a thong, do I get to bottom?” he asks.
They’ve talked about sex. He’s learned about sex since the first days of their careful courtship, and he’s seen some things in Aziraphale’s bookshop. He knows what they’re discussing - and he enjoys the look of delight on Beelzebub’s face at his bold question.
“Oh, you have been busy,” they murmur. “Sexy angel. Is this why you’re asking about Falling?”
Gabriel does not need to answer. He simply looks at his partner, who grips his hands tighter.
“If you start to Fall, I’ll catch you,” they promise. And then, with a look of mischief, they finish - “Try to turn into something that can fly, ok? I want to try fucking in mid-flight.”