Archive of Our Own

crossroad [noun]

cross·​road /ˈkrȯs-ˌrōd/

In a literal sense, a crossroad is a place where two roads meet and cross each other. In a figurative sense, it’s a situation when a critical decision has to be made. 

You leave Nyma's bar - because let's be real, that's where you've been - and take the deserted country road towards Altea. After a mile, you turn right. If you don’t know there’s a gravel road you will miss it so keep a sharp eye. When you see a light in the distance it’s your sign to stop your car. The rest of the way can only be covered by foot. 

Consider it a gift. 

It’s your time to think things over.

Make your decision.

A lamppost appears ahead and you wonder why it hasn’t been visible from the road. Under the dim orange light, you see a man in a black suit with a red tie already looking at you.

He might grant you a wish if you sign the contract.

For a small price, that is. 

When Keith chose his business location, he was convinced no unwarranted people would find him - only clients who knew the way. Surely only the most desperate person would decide to walk a deserted gravel road in the middle of the night to do the unthinkable: Selling their soul for a wish.

Apparently, he’s been wrong.

Even in the darkness of the night, he doesn’t have to squint his eyes to recognize the slim silhouette walking up to him. He deflates, his posture changing from upright to slack. 

“Not you again,” he shouts at the approaching person who isn’t fazed at all by his openly displayed irritation. On the contrary: He greets the demon with a little wave and a friendly smile. Not for the first time Keith asks himself what he’s done to attract this weirdo.

”Listen,“ he continues when the person, still unaffected by Keith’s mood, is in hearing distance. ”Either you employ my service or you piss off. You chase away my customers.”

The person, Lance, as Keith had to learn against his will, sports the mischievous grin he always does when he joins the crossroad demon under the lamppost. His jeans jacket is a stark contrast to Keith's formal fit, emphasizing their difference in character as well.

“I'm not sorry for needing receipts,” Lance says stubbornly. ”How can I know you deliver? You don't exactly run ads in the local newspaper and add some reviews. Hence,” he solemnly clasps his hands, ”I’m here to get some more in-person reviews.”

Keith takes a deep breath to ground himself. Not that he necessarily needs to breathe as a demon but old habits die hard. At least harder than Keith did back when… never mind.

“Yeah well, I'm making deals here, Lance. One wish for a soul, collected in ten years. I promise my clients privacy and I can't do that when you constantly loit around like a fucking creep.”

“Says the creepy loitering crossroad demon.”

Keith shoots him a deadpan look that turns into exasperation. “How often do I have to tell you this is my workplace!”

“It's a shit workplace.”

“It has the vibe I was going for!” 

Lance motions at their surroundings. ”The least busiest road in North America, endless fields and farmland as far as the eye can see, not even a cow in sight. Just plain nothing.”

Keith crosses his arms. “I have a lamppost.“

“The man has a lamppost. You're right, that's incredible,” he mocks him. “That's not a vibe, Keith, that's depressing.”

Like on command, the lamppost's orange light flickers. Lance looks at it askance. “Don't tell me it does that on purpose.” 

“I thought it was a nice touch,” Keith says, his voice trailing off as he protectively crosses his arm before his chest. 

“What are you, a ghost? Boo,” Lance wiggles his hands, “look at me, here comes the scary lawyer demon.”

“I literally condemn souls.”

“Without any style, Keith.” Lance leans leisurely against the lamppost. “I feel sorry for you clients.”

Keith throws up his hands. “What do you want me to do? Do you expect me to offer my service in a supermarket? Also, there's a bar nearby. That's also how you found me, much to my regret.” He turns his back to him. ”Why am I even justifying myself again?” he mumbles. 

Every night Lance appears at the end of the road, Keith promises himself not to take the bait. The guy clearly only wants to stir up trouble for the sake of it. Why, though, is a mystery to him. By now Keith is sure he doesn’t want to employ his service but he also can’t make him leave either. He can only hope boredom finds Lance soon enough and he moves on. 

“Just think about it,” Lance rambles, “I have plenty of ideas. How about-”

“Look.” Keith whirls around to interrupt him. “Word-of-mouth advertising works just fine for me. Always has been, always will be.”

Lance scoffs. “Your scribbled directions inside the restrooms is truly inspiring. Are the drunkards at the bar really your desired clientele?” 

Keith stares at him with a pointed look. “Obviously not.”

“See, that's what I'm- Oi! I'm just trying to help you!”

“Whatever.” Keith sighs in defeat and succumbs to another night with Lance by his side. All he can do now is try to keep the damage as minimal as possible. “There's a potential new client on his way so you better stay far back or I will smash you to smithereens, understood?”

Lance wiggles his eyebrows. “Don't need to make it sound so sexy."

“Field! You! Now!”

“Fine, I give you some space, demon boy.”

When Lance has retreated to a satisfying distance from the lamppost, Keith turns to welcome the man.

“Is this-” the man stutters unsure. ”I’m not sure this is the right place?”

Keith greets him with a toothy smile and motions him to come closer. “If you want to change your life you’ve come to the right place. It’s just a signature away.”

Despite his initial irritation, Keith gets accustomed to Lance's presence. Somehow the strange guy even organized a wooden bench and put it a few yards away from the lamppost, his “quiet corner” for whenever Keith sends him away to deal with a client. Keith won’t lie: It’s nice to have a seat sometimes, waiting for a new client, even if it means making shallow conversation with Lance. 

“Sorry, I don't mean to cut the line,” a voice says and Keith jumps up like he's been stung by a wasp. It’s the first time he hasn’t paid attention to the road. He silently curses Lance for making him invested in a retelling of a new movie he hasn’t seen, The Shawshank Redemption. The story moved him and he has to give it to Lance, the guy's a good storyteller.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he assures the man quickly and switches to his professional voice and manners, “he isn't a client, he's just-” 

“His PR agent. Welcome to the kissing both of death!” Lance exclaims with outstretched arms.

The man eyes them both warily and points behind him. “I better go-”

“Ignore him,” Keith says with an evil look directed at Lance. “Why don't we go over there,” he says smoothly and leads his client away.

After both parties come to an agreement, it’s time to seal the deal - with a kiss. It's not a sexy kiss, it never is. Just two pairs of lips touching each other for a few seconds. It’s clinical, impersonal and doesn’t involve any sparks of passion. But for some unthinkable reason Keith can't help himself but to open his eyes and glance at Lance - who watches him like a hawk. Lance looks like he's got something to say. Nothing new because the young man always has something to say, but... this time it feels like a challenge. Keith draws out the kiss, never breaking eye contact. He feels his body heating up, his pulse quickening but it has nothing to do with the man in front of him.

The man pulls back first. “Is that enough?” he says and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

Keith clears his throat and finally tears his eyes off Lance who smirks at him as if he's won. “Uh, yeah.” He's almost forgotten to sign the invisible contract.

For the first time, he feels weird about the kissing part of his job. To prove himself it has nothing to do with the boy present, he sits back on the bench next to Lance as if he didn't just have a tangible reaction to the idea of kissing him.

“Why is it always dudes?” Lance blurts.

“Huh?”

“I’ve been here for a few weeks now. I’ve never seen a single woman.”

“Maybe because women are too smart to sell their souls.”

“What did he want?” 

“The usual. He wanted-”

“Uh-huh,” Lance interrupts him and faces Keith, “so about the kissing.”

“Here we go again,” Keith mumbles. 

“I did some research and apparently it's not customary to sign the contract with a kiss.”

“Where did you even-?”

“Why do you do it?” To Keith’s surprise, no cocky smirk decorates Lance’s face. With his full body turned towards the crossroad demon, he patiently waits for an answer. His genuine interest almost throws Keith more off than the question itself. 

He allows himself a moment of hesitation. The young man's agenda is still an enigma to him and he’s too stubborn to ask but it’s been a while since he had a real conversation. About ten years, to be precise.

“It used to be for political reasons,” Keith answers, “it still is, I guess.” Lance nods, waiting for an elaboration. “Most scumbags loath this part and I enjoy a moment of torture before I condemn them.”

“I doubt they loathe it.”

Keith furrows his brows. “What? Why?” 

“I mean, look at you. You’re- I mean, who wouldn’t want to-” Lance stammers and struggles to hold eye contact. A light touch of red appears on his cheeks. “You know.” 

Keith’s eyes grow wide and he quickly averts his gaze. On rare occasions, men comment on his appearance, usually sleazy and repulsive ones who try to shame him with lewd remarks - a desperate attempt to keep the upper hand in a power play they have already lost. 

But it’s different when Lance does it. 

He isn't sleazy. He isn't repulsive.

He's… cute. 

An unexpected rush of heat races through Keith's body and conglomerates in his stomach. Oh, no. Keith has been a human long enough to know when he's surrounded by the harbinger of a crush...

“Uh, thanks, I guess…,” he manages to respond before the buzzing in his head makes him dizzy. 

“You're welcome,” Lance says, his usual bravado replaced by an aura of shyness.

Something shifts between them, and when they say good night, there's a playful awkwardness between them, especially when Keith returns Lance's goofy goodbye wave with a smile.

“Closed for inventory,” Lance shouts, walking up the gravel road.

“Why would I do inventory?”

“Nyma's bar, you idiot,” he says, pointing behind him. “It’s closed for inventory tonight. I doubt you can expect any clients.”

Keith grunts. “Great. I came out here for nothing.” He eyes the man in front of him. “So did you. Can’t get any reviews so why are you here?”

Lance’s eyes are fixed to the ground. He shrugs and kicks a small rock as he mumbles something intelligible. 

“What?”

“I said I knew you’d be here. And I thought if you have the night off, maybe we can, you know, do something together.”

“Do something together?”

“Are you a demon or a parrot?”

Lance smirks and Keith, oh no, feels himself blushing. He clears his throat and turns around to hide his face, pretending to stare at the horizon.

As much as Lance tends to be an annoyance, Keith grew quite fond of him over the last two months. The few days he hasn’t been visiting him, Keith - much to his surprise - had missed his presence. But don't you dare tell Lance. He might not always be easy on the ears but definitely easy on the eyes. Still, there was something earnest about him, something inherently good in his obnoxiousness. Keith would say holy if it wasn’t too much of a cliche. 

“So, let’s say I agree to your offer, what do you want to do?”

Lance beams and holds up a paper bag that smells like the most delicious food Keith has smelt in a long time. 

“I brought Ropa Vieja,” Lance explains as he unpacks two bowls and thrusts a wooden fork into a confused Keith's hand. “It’s a popular dish in Cuba. Have you ever been? It’s great, I love it. Sit down, sit down!” He pushes Keith towards the bench.

Although his demon status allows him to vanish and appear all over Earth, Keith has never left his hometown. It’s not that he doesn’t want to: Earth is big and there’s a lot to see but… Over the years, Keith has perfectioned the state of being lonely. His friends, family and lovers all have died or thought he had passed away. In one way or the other, they all have moved on. 

Keith’s the only one stuck. But he asked for it, didn’t he?

“No, I’ve never been.”

“You should go,” Lance says, “but eat first!”

They both dig in and Keith is surprised at how easy things between them have become.

“Wow,” he says between bites and pokes approvingly at the shredded meat, “this is really good. Like, really!”

Lance grins. “Told you.”

“Bff m’m mor’ impreff-”

Lance laughs. “Didn’t know demons forgot the ability to chew.”

Keith glares at him and swallows. “I said I’m more impressed by how you managed to get it here while it was still hot.”

Lance winks. “A magician never tells his secrets.”

From now on, Lance always brings food to Keith’s crossroad and they start off the night by sharing a meal. Keith blames the food for agreeing to play games with Lance. He also blames the food for why he starts to store a blanket under the bench for Lance when the night gets colder. And yes, it's the food’s fault that his heart skips a beat whenever the young man next to him smiles.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth again.”

Lance bumps his shoulder against Keith’s. “What did your body look like? Before?”

“I possessed my own body.”

Lance stares at him, shock and surprise written all over his face. “How is that even possible?"

In all those years, Keith has never talked about the circumstances of his death. In his line of work, no one asked anyway. Opening up to someone requires trust. But it’s been three months since Lance appeared at his, well, metaphorical doorstep, and surprisingly he hasn't given him a single reason not to trust him. 

Keith glimpses at the mysterious man. Eyes blue like the ocean stare back at him, not belittling, just with a sense of friendly curiosity. A warm and comforting feeling spreads inside of him. It must be the comforting food why he has the urge to tell this man everything, right?

“I… was dying and a reaper showed up in the hospital,” Keith begins. “She said a busy time was ahead of her. It was the 80s so you can probably imagine which virus started to spread across the world back then, including the US.”

Lance nods in understanding. “Yeah. That was bad. Still is.”

“The reaper was about to take me but I didn't want to go, I wasn’t ready yet. Who is, right?” Keith says quietly. “I started bargaining, knowing well enough it was futile. No one can cheat death.”

“That's right.”

“But then a demon appeared next to her. She was furious but I was… intrigued. They argued for a while and I'm not sure what about. But after my pleading, they struck a deal. The reaper didn't take my soul to heaven and the demon didn't drag me to hell. Instead, I was allowed to work as a crossroad demon for the next ten years. More, if I want to. But when I decide to quit after the first ten years, it's either heaven or hell for me. At least my soul is still my own for now. The deal is over soon and then I have a decision to make.”

Lance regards him in silence for a long moment. Suddenly, his fingers reach out and he runs them gently through a strand of Keith's hair.

“It’s still growing, though” Lance wonders loudly, unaware of Keith's fluttering stomach. “I’m sure your mullet was shorter when I met you.”

Keith tries to break through the stupor he’s in. Lance is close enough for him to see every single freckle on his sun-kissed skin and speaking of kisses... It takes all of his willpower to pretend their physical closeness isn't affecting him.

“It's a parting gift from the reaper," he explains.

“She gave you a mullet? I know it was a trend last decade but are you sure she wasn't a demon?” 

“Wha- no!” 

“I'm joking! She gave you beautiful hair?” Lance says softly. 

Keith falters, his eyes looking everywhere but Lance as he holds back a sheepish smile.

“Uhm, no. She was very mad about the whole situation, blaming heaven for not intervening properly. That’s why she took me a second before my actual death just so I have a more or less functioning body. My hair grows but I am dead per definition. I don't need to eat but I can. It’s… weird.”

Lance scans his face and Keith feels like running. He hasn't felt this vulnerable since his death but next to Lance, it's even worse. He presses his back against the bench, trying to stay put. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.” His right leg's shaking nervously.

“I’m glad you did,” Lance says calmly. “I’ve been wondering about your body for some time now.” 

Keith raises an eyebrow and huffs. “You’re thinking about my body? I don't know how I feel about that.”

“Oh.” Lance swallows, his freckles getting dusted with pink dust. “I didn’t mean-” 

Keith chuckles which turns into laughter. So this is how you make the pretty man speechless, he thinks in delight, his previous anxiety forgotten. (Maybe the delicious food has nothing to do with the flutter in his stomach after all.) But when he finds Lance's eyes again, the man has a somber expression on his face.

“Did you ever regret it?” Lance asks quietly, an unexpected heaviness in his voice.

“What do you mean?” 

Lance lowers his gaze. “Choosing to be a demon, I mean.”

Keith shrugs. “It's very fulfilling to send pieces of crap to hell.” 

“You… never longed to go to heaven?”

Keith shakes his head. “Nah. Not really.” 

“Yeah but why?” Lance asks again. “You’re always here, at this crossroad.”

“I was angry when I made the deal. Many of my friends were dead or dying. I felt like I had to do something. Most men coming here are filled with hatred against people like us. If the world is a garden, I wanted to remove the weeds.” Keith sighs, exhaling some of his desperation. “But they keep spreading and spreading. There's no end in sight and I'm getting tired.” He looks up to the stars. “My deal comes to an end soon. I can move on if I want to. But even if I decide to stop I’m not even sure there’s a place for me upstairs” he whispers. ”With my line of work in the past ten years, wouldn't I go straight to hell?”

Lance looks at him, contemplating. “You never know.”

“I wish I had more time,” Keith confesses quietly. “More time to live, more time to… to love. To help people directly. To see the world. But it's either me continuing being a crossroad demon without a life… or it's going up or down for me, also without a life.”

“Difficult choice.”

“Not really," Keith says and turns around to look at Lance. "I can't just leave and disappoint a potential customer.” 

“Huh?” 

His lips spread into a shy smile. ”You still need more reviews, don't you?”

“Wants to impress a woman,” Keith guesses about the approaching man. 

“Definitely,” Lance agrees. 

“With a promotion.”

”Pfff. With a bigger penis more likely.”

“Lance.”

“Look at him!”

“You gotta be-”

...

...

...

Keith hands him a twenty-dollar bill.

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckles and flops back down on the bench.

“Told you,” Lance grins. 

“Speaking from experience, I assume?” 

“Ohh, you're evil.”

"D'uh."

Lance laughs brightly and when their eyes meet, Keith wonders if Lance’s eyes have always been that sparkling and his laugh always as clear as church bells. 

Lance showing up almost every day isn’t something new, but him leading a client to the crossroads is unprecedented. As soon as he’s close, Keith notices something’s off. Lance’s smile is forced, his posture tense.

“I bring you someone you should meet,” he says. If Keith hadn’t known him for some time, he would’ve missed the small waver in his voice. “He has a wish you should hear.”

“And this is the guy that can make anything come true, huh?” the man says. “Like a genie in the bottle? There’s no bottle.”

“He’s the real deal, I promise,” Lance assures and motions him to walk up to the demon. 

Keith scans his new client. He looks normal. Almost boring, a pair of glasses, good clothes. But Keith knows appearances are usually deceiving. Whatever this is, he trusts Lance and dismisses the inappropriate genie comment.

“I can grant wishes,” Keith tells the man. “For a small price.” For a moment he catches Lance’s eyes. His friend grimaces and shrugs, anxiety written over his face. ‘Do something’ he mouths, helpless, and without but a word he retreats to his spot by the bench.

“Alright,” Keith begins and tells the man the rules. His soul for a wish, to collect in ten years.

Every now and then his gaze wanders over the man's shoulder to Lance. His hands are buried in his pockets and he worries his lips, unsure if to look or not. 

“What do you wish for?” Keith asks the most important question.

So the man tells him.

Keith swallows. He's heard a lot over the last few years. But this man? This man doesn't deserve ten years, not even a day. A soul must already be rotten to its core to have a wish like this. Something builds up in him, Keith feels it but can't control it. First anger, then rage, until it's bigger, a feeling that hasn't been named by mankind because it's home to hell's darkest side. Keith welcomes it, the intense feeling. His body heats up, his eyes are burning and then an unfamiliar power surges through him. He focuses on the suddenly scared-looking man before him but at the last second, his thoughts touch his friend. 

“LANCE, CLOSE YOUR EYES!” 

The man explodes.

For a second, there's silence and light. Everything is illuminated, a shade of dark orange covers the endless fields like a blanket. 

It's almost serene. 

Lance still covers his eyes with his hands and Keith almost wants to tell him look, it's so pretty but then 

comes the noise. 

Keith didn't know you could feel or taste noise but it's everywhere, piercing through skin and bone, shaking Keith through space and time until his whole existence is a blur. It's nothing he's ever heard or felt before, shrill and dissonant, inhuman and final. It's gone as suddenly as it appeared, the lack of it almost just as painful. 

When Keith opens his eyes, he's on his knees, coughing and drawing air into his lungs with shallow quick breaths despite not needing to. All there’s left to see is a rain of ash falling to the ground, the lamppost the only light source. No man in sight. As if he'd never existed. Keith’s pupils still shine red when Lance comes running to him through raining ash and dust. 

“Oh gosh,” he cries, falling to his knee, ”are you okay?” His hands reach out to Keith's face, fingers and eyes anxiously tracing his skin in search of injuries. 

“I’m fine, Lance.”

“I'm- I’m sorry,” Lance stutters. “I didn’t know what to do. I met him on my way here, overheard his conversation, and- I’m so sorry- I’ve never-“

Keith catches Lance's wrist and holds it still. “Lance, look at me. Breathe.”

Lance nods, a tear running down his cheek. “I knew humans could be… evil. But that was-”

“Don't think about it. Let's get up.”

“What did you do?” Lance whispers as they help each other get back on their feet. 

Destroyed a soul, Keith thinks. 

“The right thing,” he says. He doesn't want Lance to carry this burden but his friend looks at him doubtfully. “I sent him right away to hell,” he elaborates. Keith is sure nothingness, emptiness and non-existence are a form of hell too so the little white lie to protect Lance's soul goes easy over his lips. They both calm down slowly. Lance picks ash flakes from Keith's hair.

“Will you get into trouble?” he asks quietly. 

Keith hadn't done it before, hadn't even been entirely sure he possessed this power so who knows the consequences? 

“Nah,” Keith assures him, fighting against a sudden dizziness. “Maybe. I don’t care. An honest work mistake. Now stop the questions. Are you okay?” he asks, bringing their attention to Lance's shaking hands. 

“This is just me being worried about you,” his friend apologizes bashfully. 

Keith's knees feel wobbly but this time it's not caused by Lance's sweet words. His power is completely drained, maybe it has cut off something from his own soul. For the first time in ten years, he wants to lie down and sleep because he's exhausted.

“It’s okay, Lance,” Keith repeats and pats his shoulder. “You did the right thing leading him here. He’s gone. For good.”

“Good, that’s- that’s good.” Lance nods, fighting against more tears. For a moment, Keith is mesmerized by his glistening blue eyes, his dusty cheeks, and the ruffled hair from the shockwave. But then he realizes the danger he's put Lance in. Like an instinct, Keith wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a protective hug. He doesn’t care that he puts too much weight into it but he feels his legs slowly giving out. Lance hugs him back fiercely, his face pressed into Keith’s shoulder, and despite his exhaustion, Keith feels light as if he's flying. 

“You did the right thing,” he repeats like a mantra, whispering it into his ear until Lance stops shaking. “I'm okay. You’re okay. You did good.”

“Thank you, Keith, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The last thing he feels is Lance pressing a kiss to his neck. Then he passes out.

They don’t talk about it. 

They don’t talk about when Keith woke up, he found his head lying in Lance’s lap and the man sniveling sorry after sorry, caressing his hair and forehead. And when Keith pulled Lance in another long hug before he left that night? They also don’t talk about that. They especially ignore the kiss Keith felt on his neck and he’s sure Lance thinks he'd already been unconscious. 

Keith is convinced nothing has changed between them. Which, of course, he's glad about. Lance has become an important figure in his non-life, his only friend, and he cherishes their time together. Their talk, their meals, even their shared boredom on slow nights. Keith wouldn't want to miss that. 

The feelings he harbors are like a treasure in a chest. Sometimes he opens it a crack and marvels at them, all bright and intense, but he never dares to fully open it. Even a glimpse makes his heart beat faster, and whenever he looks at Lance, he quietly adds more treasures to it. In a perfect world, he isn't a demon and Lance is… Lance - he's perfect already. And maybe, in that world, he dares to open the chest and show Lance his treasured feelings for him. 

But in this world guilt eats him up. He's made peace with being stuck, both as a demon and with this job. But Lance? Lance deserves better. He deserves good food eaten at a restaurant with a beach view and not on a bench watching a crossroad demon making deals with lowlife men. Keith doesn't know if something like bad karma exists but in any case, he doesn't want Lance to get tainted by it.

“So, these are garlic knots," Lance explains. Keith can't stop staring at him: The way the lamppost's light illuminates Lance makes him look ethereal and pure. Thankfully, no signs of any demonic influences can be found and Keith hopes it stays that way. "Probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire existence. Can you even eat garlic?” Lance asks, disrupting Keith's wonderous thoughts.

“I’m a demon, not a vampire.”

Lance chuckles. “I know I know, I was just teasing you.”

Keith rolls his eyes but he can't himself but snicker, too.  

“Keith, can I ask you something?”

The demon swallows the bite and faces his friend. Lance is the type to ask questions, not the type to ask if he can ask a question. That's suspicious.

Keith nods and gives him his full attention. “Go ahead.”

“Where do you live?” he asks gingerly. ”Do you have a place to stay or… do you just stay here all day and night?”

”I live in a backroom of a deli," Keith answers. "Nothing to write home about, well,  if I had one, but I don't need more than a bed and a TV. Technically, I don't need those things either... But why do you ask?”

Lance hesitates, visibly unsure about whatever he's about to say, but then a moment of resolution shines through. “My landlord kicked me out a few weeks ago and I've been, uhm, floating around ever since.”

Keith's hand stops on its way to grab another garlic knot. “Hang on. You're homeless, Lance? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I'm telling you now.” Lance pouts. “Let a guy have some pride. It's not a big deal.”

“Lance, not having a home is a pretty big deal. Where do you even sleep?”

“A hostel, this bench, it varies,” his friend says nonchalantly, leaving Keith's mouth gape open, “but that's not important. What I'm trying to say is… You have a shitty room situation going on, I have a zero room situation going on. If you think about it, there's a practical solution presenting itself, don't you think?” His voice is unusually high. “Do you want to be roommates?”

Keith freezes. If you break it down, it's such a mundane question but to a demon with feelings, it's hard to process. There are ten million reasons why he should say no but it only needs one reason why he wants to say yes.

“Okay, don't say no yet,” Lance continues hastily, ”let me paint you a picture! Home-cooked food. Movie nights. A bathtub. A couch. Uh, a table. A… chair! No, wait, two chairs–”

Finally, Keith comes to himself again. “Lance, stop listing furniture,” he says, his brows furrowed. “You seriously want to share a flat with me? You know I'm a demon, right?”

“And I'm an insomniac if you couldn’t tell,” Lance huffs a laugh and scratches his neck. “That's basically the same."

"I... need some time to think about it, Lance."

They spend the night their usual way (three clients, more garlic knots, a card game Keith loses, chocolate cookies, Lance grilling Keith about his human life, Lance teaching Keith how to do a cartwheel).

Nevertheless, Keith's thoughts revolve around Lance's flat-sharing proposal. As tempting as the idea is, wouldn't it be unfair to tie their fates even tighter? Lance's well-being is most important to him and Keith can't see himself in that picture. Lance is just a human. Being around a demon for too long is bound to be fatal in one way or the other. 

Maybe he can help him find a place of his own. That's a good solution, isn't it? Come to think of it, Keith barely knows anything about Lance. Sure, he knows his favorite movies and food. He has a feeling for the gentleness of his heart that makes him wonder how beautiful his soul must look like. They share a similar sense of humor and Lance likes to tease him. But substantial facts about Lance? They're all in the dark - and in hindsight, Lance has deflected every question that tries to shed some light on his past. 

When they part for the night, Keith makes Lance promise to sleep in a good hotel from now on. 

“I hope you think about it,” Lance says, his fingers nervously playing with the credit card Keith pushed into his hands. “About the flat sharing, I mean.”

“I will,” Keith assures him. “Good night, Lance. Get some rest.” 

“Good night,” Lance says and sets off down the gravel road. After a few steps, he turns half around. “Just so you know, uh, I really like you, Keith.” 

With his words piercing through Keith's heart, he walks away without looking back. 

I think I'm in love with you, Keith whispers back. 

When Lance doesn't appear the next day, Keith shrugs. It isn't unusual for Lance to skip a day or two in a month.

The second day, Keith feels deflated. 

On day three, he blames himself. Maybe Lance has read Keith’s hesitation about the roommate situation as brutal rejection. 

On day four comes the self-loathing. He fakes being content with Lance not meeting him anymore. Maybe he finally sees Keith as what he is: a condemned soul-destroying demon who will never be good enough for Lance.

On day five, he takes Lance's absence personally. He should've at least had the decency to say goodbye, that asshole! 

On day six, Keith worries sick. Something must've happened to Lance, it's the only reason he isn't here. Keith paces around his little lamppost, every contractual interaction a blur. If he accidentally gave a man twenty instead of ten years to live because the guy wished for his pet to live longer, he doesn't care. After the last client leaves, Keith sits on the bench and closes his eyes. He hasn't used his ability to locate people before and frankly, what for… So when he decides to give it a try, he pours his heart and soul into it. 

Nothing. 

He tries it again. 

Not a thing. 

Again. Again.

Nothing. 

.

.

.

Keith's convinced he's dead. 

.

.

.

On day seven, there is… emptiness. 

Keith hasn't rested the night and day before, his heart's shattered to pieces and his eyes dry from all the tears he's spent. Emotionless, he waits under the lamppost, the light dimmer than ever, staring at the figure walking towards him. 

That slim silhouette.

Is this…? 

It can't be…

It is. It's him.

Keith's heart hurts painfully, is mended and breaks again for a different reason. The last week, he's been through hell, more literal than ever, with thoughts worse than nightmares occupying his mind. And now Lance, who didn't even deem him worthy of an absence notification, walks up to him on the familiar gravel road as if it hasn't been a big deal for Keith. The relief he feels to see Lance again is overshadowed by the fury and disappointment rising in him. Was he just an amusement to him?

“Oh, look who’s showing up, the review guy,” he snarks. “I thought I'd finally got rid of you.” Anger or not, he regrets his words the second they've left his lips.

Keith wants to slap him, he wants to yell at him but mostly he wants to wrap his arms around him and kiss his wounds away. Lance slows his steps, Keith's reaction must've thrown him off. Nevertheless, he draws closer and Keith has a hard time staying put and not running towards him. When the lamppost's first light touches him, Keith sees the faint blood stains on his jeans jacket.

“What happened?” he snaps. 

“Nothing.”

“Lance!”

Lance shrugs weakly. “Bar fight. A bottle. Then a fist and a foot. Can't remember in which order.” His finger trails from the black eye he's sporting up to his skull. ”I had to get some stitches and they kept me in hospital for a few days because I had a concussion. They had to shave off a patch of my hair.” He huffs indignantly. To Keith's further silence, he elaborates. “It wasn't my fault.” 

“Didn’t say it was,” Keith says quickly and fixes Lance with eyes that turn slightly red. ”Who did this?” 

“Some dude.”

“Some dude has a name?” 

“Why so curious, demon?” 

Keith grits his teeth. He doesn’t want Lance to know how much he’s fuming seeing him with a black eye, a cut on his cheek, and a hurt skull. He's still angry that he hasn't come back to him sooner although he couldn't have, Keith knows, but his damn feelings are hurt for the first time in ten years and he doesn't know how to handle it. 

“Guy with anger issues is a potential client.”

A lot of emotions flash across Lance's face. Keith recognizes them all because they're a mirror of his own. Disappointment, anger, sadness.

“Who says I'm not the one with anger issues?”

“Are you?“

“Only when I'm yelled at."

The anger in Lance's eyes is new to Keith and he's both alarmed and fascinated. There's an unknown force behind it but it appears to be locked. After a brief and silent staring match, Lance sighs, admitting defeat to that childish play. His anger turns to exhaustion but Keith knows his friend is the bigger person here. 

“Believe it or not but I used to be stronger and could've kicked this dude's ass,” Lance says and makes a weak attempt at flexing his biceps. ”I'm just out of shape.” He holds up a bag with food. "Hungry?" he asks, glossing over the demon's harsh words. 

Keith wants to cry. He doesn't deserve his good grace. 

"...starving, actually."

When they sit down next to each other, the silence between them is loud. It's awkward and full of unspoken feelings, accusations and apologies. At the end of the day, Keith still struggles to admit to his feelings but he's getting there. He's angry - that he fell in love with someone that turned his quiet life upside down. He's scared to his non-death - that anything might happen to Lance and he won't be able to save his fragile life. He's sad - that he might not be able to share a life with a human. But the one feeling that overshadows them all - is love. He's in love, love, love, and being in love means to believe everything is possible. So he gives his utmost to be a demon with faith.

Although the night prior didn't end on a high note, leaving both of them unsure where they stand, Lance returns. He always does. Keith hates himself for ever doubting him. But the greeting is less enthusiastic, a forced smile and a small hey is all Keith gets. 

The moment Lance sits down, the demon breaks him the news of the night. “That dude from the bar?”

“What about him?” Lance asks. The light voice he puts on barely conceals worry and fear.

“He won’t bother you anymore.”

“He came here?” Lance is on Keith in an instant, abandoned is all pretended casualness when his eyes search for wounds, his hands eager to follow. Keith's breath hitches in surprise when Lance's fingers fly systematically over his face, turning his head to check his cheeks, temple and chin. There are a million jokes Keith could make about a human fussing over a demon but none come to mind. When he's sure Lance is satisfied, Keith leans out of reach, making sure it won't be understood as a sign of rejection but as an attempt to say his part.

“I don’t make house calls but for him, I made an exception. I gave him a one-way ticket to hell in ten years.”

“Why?”

Keith exhales a long breath. He still feels guilty for lashing out at Lance the night before. When he reaches out his hand, he expects Lance to flinch when he comes close to his face. He doesn't. Like a mirror to Lance before, his fingers caress his friend's face, touching the skin around the black eye, tracing down to the cut on his cheek. 

“He hurt you,” Keith whispers. "I hurt you, too. I'm so sorry, Lance. I didn't mean any of it. What can I do to make it right?" 

Lance takes Keith's hand and moves it to his lips. "You could always kiss it better?" he asks, waiting for the demon's lips to grant him his wish.

Keith's stomach lurches. His cheeks tingle, heating up. He's so gone for him and it doesn't get easier. He should put a stop to this, control his feelings, or send Lance away. But when Lance's big blue eyes stare at him as if he had the medicine for all his pain, there's no hesitation. In a spur of the moment, Keith succumbs to his feelings and surprises both of them. A kiss on his hand won't do it. He leans forward and presses a light kiss to the cut on Lance's cheek instead. Lance giggles, embarrassed and shy, and for a moment Keith thinks he might have won this one. He doesn't expect Lance to return the kiss. When he leans back and Keith's cheek is still tingling, the demon must resist the urge to chase the warm lips he wants to feel more of. 

"But I, uh, didn't get hurt," Keith stammers.

Lance looks at him for a long moment, a sad smile on his face.

"I think you did," he says quietly. "We both did." Lance is right but it feels wrong anyway. The only reason Keith got hurt was Lance's unannounced absence he wasn't even to blame for. There's no room for objection when Lance holds up the brown food bag. “Today's menu says miso soup. Miso soup heals everything and everyone.”

They enjoy their meal in silence again but this time the space between them is filled with rapid heartbeats and sheepish smiles whenever their eyes or fingers meet. 

From this night on, Keith's crossroad demon business officially stops being the main focus of their meetings. Lance never mentions any reviews anymore and Keith's contractual kisses have turned into mere pecks.

From now on, it's just a brief distraction from what they're really here for: each other.

A loud dramatic sigh announces Lance's arrival, disrupting the silence of the evening. A single crow utters a cry and takes off in protest against its disturbed peace. The demon on the bench, though, is immune to Lance's antics.

“You're here early,” Keith states, not looking up from his crossword puzzle magazine. 

A body flops down next to him on the bench. “Didn't feel like returning to the crime scene so soon,” Lance says. ”Actually, I got banned from the bar. You won't believe me but that keeps happening to me lately.”

“Oh, I believe you for sure,” Keith teases him. 

Lance glances at the crossword puzzle. “Guy who ridicules those less fortunate with five letters. Huh. Not sure if that's demon or Keith.”

Keith slaps the magazine against Lance's shoulder. “Stop getting into trouble.”

“I'm trying, Keith, you should walk in my shoes for a day. I'm fragile.” 

“Uhm, speaking of getting into trouble,” he says as he fidgets with something in his pocket. “I, uh, have something for you.” 

It's a red bandana he pulls out, washed out and tattered. With the utmost care, he turns it around in his hands. His decision is already made and he knows it won't come with any regret, but giving a part of yourself away requires a moment of introspection. 

“It’s… my bandana.” 

To his credit, Lance doesn't joke about the sad-looking piece of red cloth. As much as he likes to rile up Keith at times and play a friendly antagonist, he's never crossed the line. When Lance lays his hand on Keith's thigh, a soothing gesture in attentive silence, Keith gives himself to a moment of long past humanity. 

Waves of memories pound through his brain, lapping at his mind like water at a cliff, breaking off pictures and scenes. 

His Dad gave him the bandana at Christmas the year he’d come out to him. It hadn't been his choice but there was nothing to sugarcoat when his father walked in on him and his then-boyfriend. It had been a rough start. His father, a stereotypical Vietnam soldier, had seen too much and it had buried his kindness. 

Things changed when Keith came home with the wounds of a fight he'd clearly lost. But the worrying father, shocked to see his teenage son in pain, was confronted with a slammed door and the words “What are a few cuts when your words kill me every day?” 

If you look closely, you find the name Kogane embroidered on the bandana. You will always be a Kogane and my son, his Dad said next to the small plastic Christmas tree later this year. And I will protect you no matter what.

In spring, his father surprised him with tickets to The Rocky Horror Show, one of the many amendments he tried to make. It says time can heal all wounds, and during these two hours, Keith wanted to believe so, too. The small family had fun, laughing, throwing confetti and rice, and when it was almost over, Keith was sure only good times were ahead of them. No one expected the theater to go up in flames, killing four people and hurting some more. But Keith's father kept his promise: He protected his son until the last of his breath. 

It was a grim time in Keith's life and from that moment on the bandana stood for protecting someone with their life. 

When a pandemic bore its teeth into his friends, gnawing and chewing at their lives until nothing was left, the only thing left to cling to was his bandana. But he couldn't protect anyone in the end, not even himself. 

“It was with me when I died,” he says. ”Uhm, and I am bound to it. It's a demon thing.“

“Okay.”

No fake words, just an acknowledgment, and Keith's relieved. No one understands what it means except for him and he appreciates Lance even more now for not pretending to feel his pain.

“I can't move in with you," he says. "I'm sorry, I really am. But if you’re ever in trouble again or something,” he holds up the bandana, ”you can summon me with it.”

Keith didn't expect Lance to have an idea of how important this piece of cloth is but the way his friend's eyes wander silently between Keith and his hands wants to tell him otherwise. But he waits patiently, giving the demon the space and time he needs. The bandana is not only a way to summon Keith everywhere and at any time. It also holds a part of Keith's soul - that he now intends to hand in Lance's care. 

“Yeah, it’s– whatever,” Keith says quickly and offers his friend the bandana without looking. “I mean, if you don't want it then–” 

He feels Lance's warm fingers on his hand, hesitating, and it's making him look at last. His friend doesn't take the cloth but the hand Keith's holding it in, guiding it to his own chest. 

“This means a lot to me, Keith,” he says. None of them comment on the crack in Lance's voice or Keith's teary eyes. “I promise I will only use it for emergencies,” Lance swears solemnly. “Thank you.”

Keith swallows the lump in his throat. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a life or death situation, you know,” he mumbles. 

“No?”

“Nah.”

A familiar spark of mischief lights up Lance's eyes. “So, if I–”

“If you summon me to do your dishes you go straight to hell.” Keith presses the bandana forcefully in Lance's hands, almost making him tumble off the bench. Lance laughs and carefully stores it in his pocket.

“Understood.”

“Now let's eat,” Keith says, eager to change the topic before he gets more emotional about it. “The pizza gets cold.”

If Lance looks at him with soft eyes more than usual this evening, Keith pretends not to notice. His heart couldn't take it. 

“We're not gonna talk about the fact that your demon deal is over today?” 

“No.”

“Got it.”

“What if you sell insurance instead?” Lance proposes as he checks the job offer segment in the newspaper. ”It's basically the same soul-stealing business. You can even keep your suit.”

Keith shakes his head and puts the empty food containers back in the paper bag beside the bench. “Lance, for the tenth time: I will keep this line of work.”

It's been a week since Keith's demon agreement ended and Lance has been more insufferable than ever.  

“Look," Lance says, "if you're hung up on the kissing part, let me tell you, there are other options.”

“I'm not hung up on anything,” Keith hisses, ”you are!” 

“I don't kiss anybody, why would I be hung up on it?”

“Maybe that's your problem!”

“Is this your way of suggesting I should kiss someone?” Lance raises his eyebrow, challenging. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Do you?”

Keith does. But does Lance know who? Do they think the same? A staring battle ensues and the rules are established in an instant. Blinking is allowed but looking away means losing. And… with the topic being kissing, Keith struggles not to look at Lance's lips, especially at this proximity. 

Lance is the first to break eye contact. Before Keith can even think about celebrating his victory, the blue eyes before him wander down. Slowly. Purposely. The implications hit him belatedly and that's his downfall. Because when his mind catches on, the betrayal has already happened. 

“So?” he hears Lance saying and strangely enough he sees his lips moving too, how could this be–

Keith's eyes jump up. He doesn't even have to look to see Lance's self-satisfying grin. 

Keith clears his throat. “I can't change jobs,” he repeats. 

Lance leans back against the bench and stares at the dark sky. “Lame.”

”If I stop, either heaven or hell will claim me and I'm just not ready yet. Being a crossroad demon is the only grey zone I have.”

“I know I know, I read the demon brochure, trust me. But what if you had more time? What would you do?”

“But that's the point, Lance,” he says, exasperated that his friend insists on having the same conversation several times this week, ”I don't have any.”

“For, uh, hell's sake, humor me!”

“Fine! If I wasn't bound to my crossroads, I would... stop working, obviously. I'd travel instead and visit all the places in the world you'd brought me food from."

Lance claps his hands in excitement. “Great! What if I sold you my soul and wished you'd quit your job and travel with me for the next ten years?”

Keith fixes him with a long stern look. “That would be incredibly stupid and wouldn't happen. Besides, I’m not even sure it would work.”

“What do you think I should get then?” 

“Nothing!”

Lance taps his chin, thinking. “My former boss would probably propose a different job, a sense of responsibility or the ability to shut up. Like, close your eyes, throw a dart and you hit a flaw, Keith.”

Hearing how easily Lance talks bad about himself makes Keith's heart heavy. He isn't sure what exactly happened at Lance's former job but it must've been bad and he hates this douchebag of a boss. Every time Keith tries to breach the topic, Lance sighs and changes the topic. 

“Nah, Lance. You’re… you’re good. And fuck your boss, seriously. He has no idea what he has on you.”

Lance breaks into laughter. “Oh, I wish the old man could hear you. In my line of work, you have to be flawless and I couldn't be further away from that image. I don't even know how I got the gig in the first place.”

“You never told me about your job.”

“I believe I was the personality hire.”

“Lance,” Keith interrupts him, ”stop talking yourself down. You're literally perfect.”

And this is how Keith learns another way to shut up his friend. Lance draws in a sharp breath, the wheels in his mind stopping dead in their tracks. 

“You don't mean that,” he whispers, gazing at Keith wide-eyed as if he'd just grown a second head. 

Keith doesn't understand Lance's strong reaction to this simple word but whatever the reason, it's his truth. “I do,” he confirms.

Lance swallows. “Where I'm from, this means… the world and the universe.”

“Yeah, well, you deserve all of it.” 

Lance looks at him in a way that makes Keith realize no one has ever told him he's perfect. That's the biggest flaw in this world. Suddenly, the chest with Keith's feelings unlocks. What is the value of his feelings when the one he adores never knows he's the reason for them? Before Keith can find the right words to show Lance how his heart sees him, his friend stands up. 

"I have a wish," he announces, firmly and resolute. 

Keith sighs, waving off his wish in advance. He wouldn't make a deal with his only friend in a hundred years. “Lance, I’m not doing this.”

The other man plays with his fingers, gathering courage. “My wish is–”

“Lance, no–”

“A date. With you.”

Keith's head whips up. They both stare at each other, Lance with a nervous smile and Keith in sheer disbelief.

“You… want to go on a date with me?” Keith can't help himself - heat rises in him, his cheeks probably turning the darkest shade of red by now and his heart tumbles dangerously. This night has taken an unexpected turn and with a hitched breath, his eyes search for Lance's lips. Unfortunately, this action doesn't go undetected and only spurs Lance on. 

“I want it,” he says and holds out a hand. ”Get up, Keith. Business is open!” Still in shock, Keith lets himself be pulled up. He's trying to counter how bad of an idea it, is but when Lance throws his arms around his neck, it's over.

“That’s how it goes, right?” For all the bravado he sports, Keith's relieved that at least Lance's red ears reveal how much it affects him, too.  

“Uhm, yeah,” Keith mumbles, trying not to think about all the times he'd pictured scenarios like this in his head.

“Inhale my soul,” Lance whispers, only the length of a hand away. “Lick it off my lips.”

Keith giggles nervously. “That's not what I’m doing.”

“Then show me what-”

He can never finish his sentence because when Lance’s lips playfully brush against his, even a demon brain isn’t able to function anymore. 

His lips are soft when Keith places a kiss on them, making sure he's as gentle as he can be. After a moment of surprise, Lance reciprocates the kiss in a way that tells Keith this won't be a usual two-second demon deal kiss. It draws a content sigh from him when he realizes from Lance's desperate lips that he hasn't been the only one longing for this to happen. 

Kissing used to be Keith's daily bread and butter but kissing Lance is a seven-course meal in a five-star restaurant and Keith devours every course. His hands circle Lance's waist, inviting him closer, and Lance answers by pressing against him. His friend has his own idea of minimizing the distance between them. His hands find their way through Keith's hair until they hold his head in place, delicately, as if the demon's still breakable. Physically he isn't, of course, and emotionally he'd already opened up his defenses a long time ago, allowing Lance to make a home inside his heart. No words are spoken: Kisses are their first language and there's no translation needed to confess their feelings for each other. Forgotten is the thought of their incompatibility. In this moment, they aren't humans and demons but just two beings trying to become one. 

After a while, they pull back, panting and smiling, and Keith gazes into Lance's blue eyes, closer than ever before.

“Wow,” he mumbles. If there's a God, he must've seen Lance's eyes before he created the most beautiful summer sky in their image. 

Keith wants to marvel at them, worship them even, but Lance isn't done yet and chases his lips again. “I think you missed a bit,” he breathes. “My soul is still itching.”

Keith hums, fully on board with whatever reason is presented that allows him to lean closer and catch Lance’s lips again. 

Their second round of kisses is calmer but not less intense. Strong emotions, unspoken promises and pent-up feelings surround them. Keith fears he might pass out, he hasn't felt like that in years, if not forever. For a moment, there's order in the beautiful chaos they're in and Keith has a moment of clarity. He doesn't need to go to heaven, he's already arrived. He wants to follow Lance wherever he goes, as long as he wants him, and protect his soul his entire life. 

But then he remembers. He can't. He shouldn't.

“Lance,” Keith breathes and brings together their foreheads, “you're so stupid.”

Lance chuckles. “I hope at least the kiss was good.”

“You would've just given me your soul.”

“So... no date then?"

Keith shakes his head. “You don't need to give me your soul for anything, Lance. It's just… I'm a demon and you're a human. I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

Lance tilts his head in contemplation, nudging Keith's nose. “You didn’t even look at my soul.”

A sudden change of topic isn't a surprising characteristic of Lance but the topic is deeply confusing. Keith leans back, frowning. “How do you know I can look at them?”

It's true. Keith only looks at other people’s souls right before he condemns them. It’s only a glance and most were already dark and tainted. As far as Keith remembers, he's never told Lance about this ability. 

“Look at it,” Lance urges him.

He's curious, alright, and sneaking a glimpse won't hurt, well, a soul. Keith puts his forehead back against Lance's and concentrates. His power finds the invisible curtain surrounding every soul and pulls it back. There it is–

Keith recoils. 

Everything is white, so bright that it's painful and burning in his eyes like sunlight on a cloudless summer day. He stumbles back a few feet, his eyes still pressed close in shock.  

“Fuck, what was this,” he pants and rubs his eyes. Carefully, he opens them again, glad he hasn't lost his vision.

Lance still stands before him but… there's something different about him. Some sort of white fog begins to surround him, originating from his upper back, taking shape. It's not the full form, just a transparent shadow, a tiny hint of their majesty, and Keith immediately wonders what they'd look like if Lance would show him. 

Wings. White wings.

Keith gasps. “You're an angel?!” he exclaims incredulously. 

“Tataaa!” Lance sings and his wings dissolve again.

“What the hell!” 

“What the heaven - to be precise.”

Keith stares at him. In all his years as a demon, he's never seen another supernatural being, especially not an angel. Thoughts race through his mind. He'd always known Lance was special but of all the explanations he'd tried to come up with, an angel has never been an option. Standing in front of one strikes him with awe. And to think that he just kissed one... Lance uses Keith's stunned silence to explain himself. 

“Look. Full disclosure,” he tries to pacify him, “I kinda… fell.”

“You kinda fell?” 

“On your mouth.”

“Lance.”

“From grace or whatever,” he corrects and picks his fingernails. “It's really not a big deal. I'm getting used to it.”

Now it all makes sense. Lance being homeless all of a sudden and getting beat up in a bar because he doesn't have his powers anymore. Of course his location detection doesn't work when Lance is a supernatural being! But there's an unanswered question that baffles Keith the most.

“How the hell did you fall from grace?” he wonders.

“So. Promise you won't get mad.”

“Why would I get mad?” 

“Remember when you struck a deal with a reaper and a demon?”

Keith exhales a long breath. “Interesting start.”

Lance rocks forth and back on his heels, more embarrassed than the demon has ever seen him. “There was supposed to be an angel present that day. But, uhm, said angel was busy having, uh, dinner.”

“You are joking,” Keith deadpanned.

“I said don't get mad!” Lance retorts but there's more pleading than bite in it. With his black eye and cut on his face, he still looks like a picture of misery. “My friend invited us to Earth for a dinner party, he's a hobby cook, what was I supposed to do? Cancel?"

Keith opens his mouth to say the obvious answer but Lance speaks over him. 

"If I had been present, I would've dragged your ass to heaven anyway. Orders, you know," he declares, jabbing his finger in Keith's face. "No crossroad demon deal for you, mister!”

Keith's still confused. He has no idea of heaven's bureaucracy and angelic hobby cooks and, honestly, isn't sure he wants to know about it.

“So you fell from grace because you had dinner?”

“Keith, please," Lance snorts, "don't be ridiculous."

Keith motions him to continue. There's no point in comments or questions as long as the angel hasn't finished his strange tale. 

"When heaven learned about your deal, they couldn't reverse it immediately," Lance says. "So after ten years, I was tasked to seek you out and take you to heaven. Ah, spoiler alert, you have a place in heaven,” he says, doing jazz hands. When Keith doesn't even as much as blink, he continues. “Since it was my fault I decided to seek you out a bit earlier to, uh, learn from my mistakes.” Lance pauses. Cautiously, he approaches Keith to touch his hand. “I got to know you," he says quietly and looks into Keith's eyes. "And the more time we spent together, the more I cared about you.” Keith can't help himself but take Lance's hand and squeeze it gently. Whatever Lance says, he already knows it won't change anything between them. “Then you said you weren't ready to leave Earth yet, not even after ten years. And when it was time to get you, I refused my orders. Some mean words were said upstairs… I wasn't innocent either but clearly I am on the right side of history," Lance says indignantly. "Lucifer fell because he hated humans, I fell because...," he stops, biting his lips and Keith waits with baited breath. "Well, I'm the opposite," he says with a small voice, a bit apologetic because he hasn't said what both wanted to hear. "You can only lose as an angel!"

"To be fair," Keith interjects, "I am a demon."

"Demon, schnemon, you still have your soul. You're more human than most humans. Ultimately," Lance continues, "I'm only allowed back in heaven when I bring you with me. So, you're stuck here for eternity with me.”

“Stuck here for eternity with you?” Keith echoes.

Lance waves his hands frantically. “I know it sounds bad but I promise I won’t-”

“Wait,” Keith interrupts him. His mind has finally caught up on everything Lance has just told him. “So what you’re saying is… you did this for me? You fell from grace because of me?”

“Well, it wasn’t because of you, it was because of my decision that was influenced by you and-”

Lance stops talking when Keith gently cups his face in his hands. “God, Lance.”

“Just an angel,” he whispers anxiously.  

Keith chuckles. “I'm not mad at you.”

“You're not?”

“You're not the only one who fell.” Lance looks at him quizzically, and Keith must first kiss the confusion off his face. “I fell in love with you,” he then says. 

Lance smiles brightly, full of relief and happiness. “That's so cheesy.”

“Says the angel who fell from grace for a demon.” 

Lance sighs impatiently as if Keith hasn't understood what he's been told, but the demon just thinks it's cute that the angel still tries to keep up a sense of professionalism.

“This is about you more than me,” Lance says seriously. “You're free. You're still a demon, don't get me wrong, but you have a choice now. You're quite literally,” he stretches out his arms, “at a crossroads.”

"Hmhm." Lance looks so proud. Keith, meanwhile, tries his damnest not to laugh. A second passes, another, and Keith has reached his limit. “Did you rehearse that?” 

“Oi!” Lance smacks the demon's shoulder when Keith breaks into laughter, but then he's pulled into another kiss. "Seriously, Keith," Lance says between kisses, "what will you do now?” 

Keith leans closer to whisper into Lance's ear. "Now I will take my perfect angel on a date.”

The angel squeaks and buries his face in the demon's shoulder, allowing Keith a moment of well-needed reflection while they hug.

Until a few months ago he'd been utterly alone. His work was his life, well, death, and its necessity was a given. He'd seen so many dark and twisted minds that he'd forgotten about the good things on Earth. But then an angel crashed into his crossroads and, despite their initial friction, became his first friend in death. At first, Keith thought it was Lance's stubbornness that broke his shell. It's not true. It was the angel's empathy, loyalty and comfort that allowed Keith to open up to him. 

(Maybe the food played a minor part as well.)

“You know,” Lance mumbles into his shoulder, “I can fly again. Hunk, that's my bestie, snuck me back some of my power. He's an archangel and pulled some strings.” His head whips back, a single finger pointing at Keith. ”No harp jokes! We hate that.”

Keith grabs his finger and chuckles. “Got it. Flying comes in handy for where we're going next.”

“And where might that be?” Lance asks. 

Keith smirks. “Someone recommended Cuba a while ago.”

“Oh, you're gonna love it!” Lance exclaims, happily tapping against Keith's chest. “Delicious food, walks on the beach, a warm breeze at night, my favorite demon by my side.”

"Just so you know,” Keith says softly and takes the angel's hands. “I want to see the world with you, Lance. As long as you will have me, that is. And when we've seen it all, we can continue our journey elsewhere. Plus, I'd like to have a word with your boss."

“Brave and foolish. Deal,” Lance says, smiling as Keith leans forward to seal the deal with a kiss. The contract, of course, has nothing to do with condemning souls. Quite the contrary: Keith has already gifted Lance a part of his, and it's safe and sound in the hand of his angel. And, unbeknownst to him until earlier, the angel and his soul had already fallen into the demon's safe hands months ago, up from heaven even. 

Their show of affection to celebrate their deal is put on hold when they notice a man walking up the gravel road, already in close range. 

Lance groans. “Go away!”

"Hello, boys."

“Sorry, business is closed,” Keith tells the man. ”Forever.”

“I'm not here for a deal,” says the British man in a black suit. ”I'm your successor. The name's Crowley.”

“Oh, hell is quick.”

“Efficient, you mean,” the man corrects. “You two were the talk in heaven and hell alike, this doesn't come as a surprise to anyone.” 

Keith and Lance share an alarmed look. 

“No need to worry,” the demon continues. ”It was entertaining, if you're into soap operas that is. If not, it was annoying. Guess what it was to me."

Lance opens his mouth to speak but Keith nudges him.

"Now go," the demon says. "I'm not in the mood to be around a lovesick angel and demon. Adiós y hasta la vista, enjoy your honey moon.”

Lance doesn't have to be told twice and summons his wings. It makes sense they aren't as grand as they surely have to be with Lance having fallen. But still, Keith can't take his eyes off him, he swears there's a special glow to him. It's ridiculous he's never noticed he's been in the company of an angel all along.

Angels are supposed to be perfect beings, but isn't "perfect" an awfully subjective description? Some random old man upstairs might have seen flaws in Lance, but those so-called "flaws" make him perfect in Keith's eyes.

“What?” Lance says, unsure about Keith's long silence. 

“I love you,” he blurts, making Lance blush and the British demon groan.

"Can you two leave, please?" the demon begs before he has to witness another public display of affection. "You're chasing away my customers."

"Ah, doesn't that sound familiar..." Lance grins and turns to Keith. "Are you ready to leave your crossroads?” 

"One moment." Suddenly, the three stand in complete darkness. "I'm taking the lamppost with me."

Lance laughs. "Of course you do. He can have the bench though."

Keith grins and takes Lance's hand. He's more than ready to start their journey. “Lead the way, angel. I crave some Ropa Vieja."