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“Say,” Angel mumbles around his mouthful of ice cream.
He’d done… surprisingly well today, despite his complaints about the humidity, the ache in his legs, the headache he’s been–apparently–nursing since last night, and his too-tight shoelaces that he doesn't even bother to fix. He’d even saved Aki’s ass twice, and so Aki, perhaps not so begrudgingly, bought him a cone of caramel vanilla ice cream.
It’s the flavor that Aki’s beginning to suspect might be Angel’s favorite, if he’s even capable of having one.
“Were you serious about reporting me to higher-ups? To get rid of me?”
Aki’s too proud to admit the question has him stumbling ever so slightly, but Angel’s too lost in his ice cream to notice, or care.
“No! No, I–” Aki asks, and it’s harder than usual to keep his voice steady.
“Shame,” Another bite of ice cream, and Aki cringes in sympathy at the toothache Angel doesn’t seem to mind. “You know, it would kill two birds with one stone, or one devil with one stone. You get to be rid of me, and I die.” He sighs the last word almost dreamily, and Aki’s unsure of why exactly it makes his stomach churn, but the feeling is awfully close to nausea.
It’s something akin to nausea, still, when Aki speaks again. “Why do you think I want to get rid of you?”
Angel raises an eyebrow.
“Are you kidding? You hate devils. It’s like…” He waves his hand. “Your whole thing.”
“Just because I hate devils doesn’t mean–” Doesn’t mean what? That he doesn’t want to be the reason one of them dies? No, he’s the reason dozens of devils have died, and he’s never given it a second thought. What’s one more?
But it’s not just one more.
It’s Angel.
His…buddy.
Would he have killed him if they had met under different circumstances? If Angel wasn’t under Public Safety’s protection and Aki had instead stumbled upon him in an alley somewhere? Would Aki have fought him? Would Angel have fought back?
Aki already knows the answer to all of this.
And maybe it is nausea, after all.
Aki’s “I’m done talking about this.” comes out harsher than he intended, but he doesn’t take it back.
And Angel huffs beside him but doesn’t say more. Aki watches from the corner of his eye as he finishes his ice cream and scuffs his toe against the asphalt.
When Aki starts walking again, Angel follows.
“Looks like rain,” He mumbles from where he lags two steps behind, and Aki merely grunts, not dragging his eyes away from the sidewalk.
They see the rain before they feel it, and they have all of a couple seconds to run under the nearest bus stop awning before it begins to pour.
It’s a small thing, barely able to fit the two of them, and as a result, they stand shoulder to shoulder. Or rather, shoulder to the crown of a head, given their height difference. It strikes Aki then, just how small Angel is.
He’s noticed before, of course, objectively. Angel only comes to his shoulder, if that. His halo gives the illusion of an additional few inches, but he remains slight and decidedly…human. Angel had explained it to him once, but even he seemed unsure of just how his appearance came to be.
“Angels are thought to be beautiful,” He had mused, and Aki had nodded without thinking because yes, Angel was beautiful. Objectively speaking. Aki could see, theoretically, how someone could find the Angel Devil to be…beautiful.
Hypothetically.
“I don’t really see it, but–” Angel shrugged, and Aki’s jaw had almost dropped at that, almost. He hid his surprise with a cough, and Angel just looked at him for a moment before continuing. “Cherubs are quite popular interpretations of angels, so that would explain the youthfulness, I suppose. As for the fear of them,” Again, Angel had shrugged as he fixed Aki with a lazy, if heavy, stare.
“Do you think I’m scary?”
Scary? No.
Dangerous? With his half-lidded eyes, the drawl of his words, his sharp canines, and the feeling of his bare skin against Aki’s as he gave up his life to save Angel’s?
Terribly so.
“You wish.” Aki had huffed, voice oddly strained as he ducked his head and blamed the flush of his cheeks on the yakiniku in front of them.
It’s then that Aki is hit with the startling realization that he doesn’t want Angel to die. Not by his hand or anyone else's.
“Hey–” Aki begins, turning to face him, but Angel’s no longer beside him.
Instead, he stands feet away in the middle of the empty road as he tilts his head back and allows himself to get completely soaked.
Despite himself, Aki almost laughs.
“You’ll get sick.” He calls, and Angel’s nose wrinkles at the very notion of it. His head falls lazily to face him, and the rain paints his hair to his face in a way that looks like a vision and a way that looks like blood.
Both have his stomach swooping.
“Only idiots get sick,” Angel tells him, no doubt having picked it up from someone else. Denji, maybe, but there's an equal likelihood that he heard it from Power.
Angel continues to look at him for a moment more before allowing his eyes to fall closed and his head to tilt back once again. Aki watches him, and they wait out the rain.
“Does this make you an idiot?” Aki muses the next day.
“Devils aren’t supposed to get sick,” Angel grumbles, red-nosed and skin sallow, as he makes them stop for yet another break.
It’s their fourth one in the past hour, which might be a new record for them.
Sniffling miserably, Angel breathes out heavily through his open mouth and takes the handkerchief when Aki offers it.
“Maybe you’re more human than you think,” Aki says before he can stop himself, and he’s not sure if the words are for Angel or himself, but Angel raises his head and glares at him like the very notion offends him.
There’s a good chance it does, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Why didn’t you just stay home?”
Angel exhales sharply through his nose at this, and it’s some mockery of a laugh.
“Devils don’t get sick days.” Angel surmises, tipping backwards until his head meets the wooden bench with a thunk. It does nothing to help his pounding head, but neither does squinting into the halo that surrounds Aki as his body carves its shape into the sun.
He looks anyway.
The light curves around his shoulders, forming wings in the shadows of his body, and the daylight has fallen enough that the feathers that Angel imagines reside in the darkness of his figure brush the tops of his sneakers from where he sits in front of him.
“Or a paycheck.”
“You don’t get paid?” Aki’s eyebrows furrow at this, or Angel imagines they do. He is nothing but a silhouette in front of him.
“Our payment is not being put down,” He shrugs and closes his eyes in a way that looks as if he’s asleep. Or dead. “So much for that incentive.”
In this moment, the brightness of Aki’s anger rivals the sun.
“If you want to die so badly,” He snarls, unable to stand the moroseness, the ache inside him, the two years he has left, any longer. “Why haven’t you just done it yourself by now?”
His words sink between them, helpless to the pull of gravity, and they look even uglier on the asphalt than they did in his mind.
He didn’t mean it.
He doesn’t mean it.
“You think I haven’t tried that?” Angel asks without so much as opening an eye. He sniffles, but not in sadness, and brings the handkerchief to wipe at his nose.
Aki swallows, and it’s audible.
“Doesn’t work.”
Aki feels, all at once, like a child throwing a tantrum. Angel’s words are not intended to harm him, and yet he takes them personally. It’s both the idea of one accepting their own death so easily, while he himself often finds himself lingering on the what if, and the idea that it’s yet another person in his life that wishes to go so readily, that upsets him.
Will he ever be able to make anyone stay?
Aki collapses onto the bench beside him and similarly rests his head against the backrest, suddenly exhausted. He closes his eyes against the brightness of the sky, and when he opens them again, his head has fallen to the side, and he now faces the devil beside him.
As if feeling his stare, Angel opens one round, carmine eye with those long bottom lashes that Aki’s found himself staring at more than once, and looks at him.
Neither look away.
Angel blinks, and the moment’s gone.
“Let’s go.” Aki grunts, pushing himself to his feet and almost holding out a hand to help his partner up as well.
Almost.
“Back to work,” Angel mumbles from beside him.
“No,” His halo just barely reaches his shoulder. “You can’t work like this.”
“I won’t be allowed back until our shift ends.”
“Then we’ll go to my place.”
They’re so close that when Angel looks up to face him, his chin almost reaches Aki’s shoulder.
Almost.
“Is that even allowed?”
Aki shrugs.
“I couldn’t care less about what’s allowed right now.”
“Look at you,” Angel muses as he watches him thoughtfully. “Mr. Goody Two-Shoes breaking the rules for once.”
Aki bristles.
“I am not a goody two-shoes.”
“Right,” Angel remarks. “You know, you’re basically kidnapping me right now.”
“Hardly. You’re entirely willing. Now come on before I change my mind.”
“Kidnapping,” Angel mumbles under his breath, but says nothing more, and when Aki takes off in the direction of his apartment, Angel walks fast enough to match his stride.
“I’m home,” Aki calls out to the empty apartment, the only occupant being Meowy, who comes running at the sound of his voice. Toeing off his shoes, he squats to meet her as Angel politely shuts the door behind them and slips off his shoes to rest beside Aki’s. They sit amongst the pairs upon pairs that belong to Power and Denji and are almost swallowed up by the mes,s but despite it all, they look as if they belong.
Aki’s fingers stall along the back of Meowy’s neck, and she meows in offense.
“Scratch underneath her chin,” Angel murmurs, breaking him from his thoughts, and when Aki glances up at him, he’s watching the place where Aki’s hand meets Meowy’s fur. “I heard cats like to be pet there.”
Moving to do just that, he feels the way Angel squats beside him.
One feathered wing just barely brushes the elbow of Aki’s suit.
He doesn’t think about it.
Angel hums in approval at the way Meowy’s purrs amp up, and his face makes the closest thing to a smile Aki’s ever seen on him.
It’s only when Meowy moves to bump her head into Angel’s own hand does the smile drop, and he’s back on his feet.
Aki gives her one more pat, for Angel.
“I’ll, uh, show you around.”
The apartment’s small, and it’s one of the building’s older models, but Aki doesn’t think the “It’s nice.” that Angel mumbles is insincere. It’s a mess, as per usual, but that too, Angel doesn’t seem to mind. He tilts his head thoughtfully at the laundry on the floor, the dishes in the sink, and the hole in the wall from where Power had gotten too excited during board game night.
It’s at the photos on the wall does Angel linger.
“Is this you?”
He doesn’t even need to look to know which one he’s referring to.
He does anyway.
It’s a small thing, creased in the middle and torn at the corners, but it’s the only one that Aki was able to find among the rubble.
He had almost bled out onto it, once, back when he kept it in his wallet.
He framed it after that.
Something to come home to.
Angel’s pointer finger is held a respectable distance away, nail not even glancing the glass, as if this touch too could rob Aki of his life.
Not that there’s much more to take.
“Yeah,” He says, walking to stand beside him.
“You were so small,” Angel speaks more to himself than to Aki at this, which is good because Aki doesn’t know how to respond to that.
When Angel’s finger moves from him to the boy beside him, his answer rises unbidden.
“My brother.” He whispers, and his voice does not break.
“What’s his name?”
“His name was Taiyo.”
Angel’s hand falters, and his nail makes the smallest of noises when it bumps into the glass.
But it doesn’t matter, Taiyo is already gone.
He lowers his arm back down to his side.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Aki says, and he’s surprised to find he means it. He doesn’t pull his eyes away from the photo, and it doesn't hurt as badly as usual. “I don't talk about him as much as I wish I did.”
Angel hums and returns to looking at the small, smiling face of Taiyo.
“What was he like?”
“Kind,” Aki begins without thinking. “A lot kinder than me.”
“That’s hard to imagine,” Angel murmurs, and from anyone else it would be sarcasm, but from Angel it’s oddly…sincere.
He doesn’t think about it.
“He was a sick child, bedridden more often than not. He was coddled by our parents who always seemed to have more time for him than they did for me, and I think I…resented him for that.” Aki’s voice catches, and he has to clear his throat before continuing. “He had their near constant attention, but he still whined and pouted until I came to see him. Every time it snowed, he asked if we could go outside and play catch. He would beg me until I said yes…”
Taiyo smiles at him from behind the glass.
His younger self scowls.
“I didn’t understand it at the time, but I think I get it now.”
“He loved you.” Angel whispers, and Aki nods, unable to speak.
There’s shuffling beside him, and then a shoulder bumps into his bicep and stays there.
Aki sniffles, despite not being sick, and Angel sniffles, because he is.
Right.
Angel’s sick.
Aki allows himself a moment of indulgence, of weakness, as he bumps Angel’s shoulder back and motions for him to follow.
Angel does without question.
“You can sleep in here,” Pointing to the futon that’s made up neatly on the floor, Aki waits until Angel’s fully in the room before stalking off to the closet. It’s summer, but Angel’s chilled enough that Aki grabs the two spare blankets and every extra pillow he owns, knowing how much Angel prioritizes comfort above all else.
He’s still debating whether to grab the heated blanket he reserves for the winter when he hears Angel breathe a deep sigh from behind him.
Glancing over his shoulder, his mouth goes dry.
Not even bothering to discard his suit jacket and tie, Angel’s curled up on the futon. He’s pulled the comforter up to his chin and he watches Aki through half-lidded eyes, his face flushed but whether that’s from the fever, the heat of the day, or something else entirely, Aki doesn’t know.
Similarly, Aki’s unsure if his face flushes from the heat of the day or something else entirely.
Shaking his head, he allows himself one more moment to admire the angel that’s quite literally in his bed before he drops the mass of pillows and blankets onto said angel’s head.
Who yelps in surprise.
And then hums and quiets, settling contentedly beneath the layers of fabric.
The sight is so ridiculous, so ridiculously Angel, that it has Aki huffing in what might be amusement as he works to unbury him.
“Up,” Aki commands once he spots the head of red hair. “You’re not sleeping in your uniform.”
“Why not?” Comes the mumbled reply.
“You won’t be comfortable.”
Peeking one eye open, Angel squints up at him in suspicion. “Since when do you care about my comfort?”
Aki watches as Angel unburies his face completely and turns to look at him head-on. His hair is mussed, halo crooked, and as he tilts his chin upward, Aki drops the pile of blankets back onto his head, feeling suddenly caught.
“Just get undressed and I'll get you something to change into.”
His heart races as he walks away to the sound of Angel’s sigh.
Aki’s grateful, suddenly, for the first and last time Power and Denji did the laundry. Sifting through the sparse amount of clothing he owns, he comes across the shrunken pair of shorts and a shirt with a faded cartoon character on the front. Running his thumb across the face that smiles up at him from the fabric, he thinks he knew the name of the thing.
Once.
The name remains forgotten when he turns and sees Angel upright on his futon, staring at him.
Angel’s stripped down to his underwear, and the way he’s seated in the middle of the mass of blankets and pillows makes it seem like it’s a nest. He looks decidedly bird-like and it’s so endearing that it’s almost enough for Aki to ignore his near-nude state.
Almost.
He blinks, hard, and still sees him.
“You told me to get undressed,” Angel shrugs, his entire body moving with the motion and Aki has to will himself not to stare.
“Here,” Aki thrusts the clothes out with one hand, turning his head away as he does so, even though it’s way too late for that.
He doesn’t turn back until the shuffling dies down and a glance over confirms that Angel’s back to being under the covers. Safely under multiple layers of fabric, Aki could touch him right now with no repercussions to his lifespan.
It’s a dangerous thought and one that he distracts himself from by leaving the room entirely.
It’s when Aki’s on his hands and knees with his head in the cabinet under the sink as he searches for the rubber gloves he knows he has does he realize what he’s doing.
Taking care of Denji and Power is one thing; they’re his charges, and while he often took care of Himeno when she was hungover, comparing Himeno to Angel leaves a knot in his chest that pulls too tight.
Himeno was his mentor, his friend. He didn’t love her in the same way that she loved him but she never pushed it and he was grateful for that.
Angel is…
It’s different, with him.
Aki doesn’t know why, but it is.
The gloves are pink, because of course they are, and he elects to turn the faucet cold as he splashes his own face with water before filling a bowl just halfway and making his way back to his room,
The sight of Angel in his bed still stops him in his tracks and something inside him wonders if he’ll ever get to experience getting used to seeing him like this.
He swallows hard and kneels beside the Angel shaped lump.
Angel’s eyelashes flutter at the first brush of Aki’s fingers against his cheek and Aki watches as his eyes open and meet his just as he brushes his sweaty bangs back from his forehead.
“Nice gloves,” Angel murmurs, tone bordering on curiosity, and he closes his eyes when the cloth touches his forehead. The coolness is blissful against his skin and he finds himself turning his head into the rough texture of the towel with every pass it makes across his face. “Scratchy.”
“Sorry,” Aki whispers, not knowing exactly why he’s whispering.
“‘s fine,” Angel whispers back, and Aki wants to ask why, why, why. He sighs at the motion and something in Aki’s heart clenches.
He’s never seen Angel so…content.
“Have you ever been sick before?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember anything from my past.” Angel says and it’s so sure, so detached, Aki’s frowning before he even realizes it.
“Doesn’t that…bother you?”
“I try not to let it.”
“Does that work?”
Angel doesn’t respond, but his silence is answer enough.
Another dunk into the bucket, the water’s long gone lukewarm.
“You told me before about country and city mice. How do you know you were a country mouse?”
“...Don’t know. I just do.”
His eyebrows furrow in a way that Aki’s only seen once, after Aki gave up two months of his life to save him, and he knows this means Angel’s upset.
It’s twice now that Aki’s been the cause of such an expression on Angel’s face and he wants it to never be so again.
“I go to Hokkaido every winter, to visit my family’s grave.”
Angel hums and Aki drags the cloth across his forehead again.
“You could…come with me this year.”
Opening one eye, Angel looks at him like he’s stupid.
“No vacation days, remember?”
And he might just be.
“I could ask Ms. Makima–”
“Don’t call her that.”
He might just be.
“...I could ask Makima.”
The rubber of Aki’s gloves catches on Angel’s cheekbone once, twice, three times, and it’s incriminating.
“I heard Hokkaido gets cold in the winter.”
“It does.” So cold, in fact, that Aki distinctly remembers the feeling of snow against his skin. His hands are pink beneath the rubber of the gloves, gloves that were once wool.
It’ll be Power’s first time in the snow, maybe Angel’s too. He’ll complain about the cold, like he does everything else, but Hokkaido is a countryside and he thinks, he hopes, that Angel will warm up to it the same way he did with Aki.
“I’ve never traveled that far before.”
“You don’t have to–”
“Fine, I’ll go.”.
Slowly, cautiously, then all at once.
Aki huffs in something like amusement and he looks down at Angel with something like affection.
“Denji and Power will be coming along.”
“Don’t make me change my mind.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Aki’s movements have long since halted and now they simply stare. Angel’s eyes are hazy with fever, his lashes so long that it’s harrowing, and Aki’s feels as if a cathedral is being built right before his eyes.
Or maybe it’s been there, he’s just finally opening the door.
Kneeling down to pray.
Confessing…confessing…
“I should let you sleep,” He coughs, aware that his face flushes redder than Angel’s does with fever, and it takes everything in him to pull his hand back from where it’s been resting on Angel’s cheek. “It’s the best way to recover.”
Angel hums, but doesn’t say more as he watches Aki soak the towel one more time before resting it on his forehead and leaving it there.
“Thank you.” Angel mumbles and closes his eyes to the look of shock on Aki’s face.
His touch had been warm, warmer than the fever, warmer than the sun, even.
“Y-Yeah.” Pulling the blanket up to Angel’s chin, he allows himself the pleasure of looking at the serenity that Angel bathes in before rising to his feet.
Gripping the door handle, he casts one more glance over his shoulder and finds Angel already asleep. Underneath Aki’s comforter, head resting on Aki’s pillow, he looks like he belongs in the four walls that make up his bedroom. He brings a life to it that’s never existed before and he wonders who’s going to be emptier without him.
Aki, or his room.
If things were different, if he was different, he might have stayed.
Because of the way things are, he’s only tempted.
He shuts the door behind him and as he dials up the number for the Public Safety office, ready to beg them to let Angel come with hi–them to Hokkaido, ready to sneak him in his suitcase anyway if they say no—
The gloves stay resolutely on.