Work Text:
“Narrator…” His voice is partly a whine, partly a trill. It’s petulant above all. He doesn’t care. He sprawls on the couch, reaching out for the plumed tail swaying in front of him. “Narrator, what are you pacing around for?”
The Narrator stills, turning around with a quiet swish to stare at him. Its mouth is an unamused line, but its one visible eye shines with fondness. “Stanley, what are you lying on that couch for? I believe the cause of my actions are more obvious than yours.”
Stanley rolls into a sitting position with a quiet grunt. He doesn’t feel like speaking anymore. Turning his questions on him? Fine. He’s a demon; carrying out the worst of monotony. That means he often falls back on old habits: lounging in the Employee Lounge and bothering his Narrator.
“I belong to the parable, not a lowly demon,” it is quick to snap, but slow to hide its tail swishing in pleasure.
Lowly demon, huh? At least consider him the Narrator’s lowly demon then.
“If I do, darling, will you continue with the story?” The pet name slips out easily, betraying the angel’s feigned annoyance.
He tilts his head in mock contemplation. Anything else to sweeten the deal?
“Wh- are deals not your area of expertise?”
That doesn’t mean anybody can’t strike one. Come on, little angel, take a gamble.
It is not little — taller than him in fact — but Stanley loves the name regardless. And based on the way the Narrator stiffens, he can assume it doesn’t mind the name either. The calligraphy on its wings shifts as it considers its next words.
His voice is saccharine. His claws are vitriolic. Harsh lines. But not exactly an indicator of the Narrator’s thoughts.
-igh, dove. Wander far and wonder deep for me. Poetic, though the beginning is lost in the wingtips.
I love you. Stanley’s eyes latch onto it with a small smile. That’s likely based on his angel’s thoughts.
“Alright, fine!” Its tail swishes with a flourish. His one visible eye gazes at Stanley. “What are your conditions, hm?”
Oh, nothing too strenuous. Just a hug, maybe?
His ears flick. “That’s it?”
Disappointed? Stanley grins. Throw in a kiss and he might be inclined to do multiple runs.
-not what is readily given to me. Huh? The flowers are blooming. Careful now, you might be- Disconnected lines. The beginning and ending are cut off at the feathers’ ends. The Narrator sighs, waving a paw at Stanley. “Stand up, then. I believe that is the most effective way to meet your demands.”
He grins at the Narrator’s words; sharp toothed and dangerous to anyone who doesn’t know any better. He stands up from the couch and all but falls into the angel’s grasp. The position is familiar, Stanley’s head fitting easily under the Narrator’s chin. Its wings wrap around him, and he relishes the warm, feathery embrace. He could also hear the Narrator’s heart beating; the sound steady and reassuring.
“You’re purring, darling,” it murmurs softly.
He is. What, want him to stop?
A paw gently rubs one of his antlers, and Stanley’s sure his purring only gets stronger. “Not at all. The sound is quite endearing.”
He huffs out a laugh. Thanks. Any follow up on that kiss?
The only warning he gets is a soft, amused, “Surely you won’t exploit this.” Then the Narrator bites his ear. Well. It’s more of an extremely gentle nip to his ear. But oh, does it do something to Stanley’s brain. He latches onto the feeling, gripping it with nearly the same ferocity as he would a hapless, misbehaving soul (but with infinitely more care).
He relishes the way his angel’s breath is so, so warm against the skin of his ear. The way its teeth press just enough to be felt by his skin. Even after the angel pulls away, gazing down at Stanley with an expression he can’t quite decipher — he’s still chasing that fleeting, pleasant feeling — he’s replaying the moment in his mind.
Do that again? Please?
He just gets a sweet, chaste kiss on the mouth. “Another time, love.” But it doesn’t pull away. “I’ve met your conditions, haven’t I? I daresay it’s my turn to change the storyline.”
“Wait-” he stops, taking a moment to swallow his panic. “Please.” He doesn’t get enough moments like these. Come on, is his angel really trying to get away now?
“Oh, Stanley…” The Narrator gently cups his cheek with a paw. “I wasn’t talking about leaving, darling. I was merely going to take us somewhere more comfortable.” Its gaze is soft. All its heavy drapes have been pulled away, letting Stanley see the depths of its affection. “I’m sorry,” it murmurs suddenly.
What? What for? The panic returns, spiking through his chest. Like when a deal’s conditions have a loophole, and the client threatens to exploit it. But this isn’t some cheap bargain. So maybe the fear he feels now isn’t so similar.
“Stanley.” The Narrator kisses him again. “I’m just regretting that I don't spend enough time lavishing you with love and attention.”
Stanley sighs, resting his head on his Narrator’s shoulder. Well. Better start now.
“Demanding thing, aren’t you?” it purrs. It easily teleports them to a more comfortable area; one with a softer couch to lay on and a proper bed to rest in. “We have plenty of time. But I’ll indulge you by starting now.”