Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Angel felt unbecoming. Unruly.

Each night when he laid his head to rest, that gnawing sensation would return to haunt him, again; lead-heavy with shredded, distorted memories long-forgone. He couldn’t stand it, the way his mind seemed to nibble away at his brain, resurrecting the feeling of a cold hand holding his own, so cold it couldn’t have been alive. He could feel it in his buzzing fingertips, that dreadful chill, that shiver that made him feel like vomiting. He could feel it crawling up his arm, curling in his blood. His jaw ached from gritting his teeth, his fist shaking with the force it took to bury his nails into his palm. And despite it all, the cold persisted. That dead cold.

And what’s more, that hand was bodiless, unable to be filled in by Angel’s vapid mind no matter how hard he forced the details to spring themselves forward. Every so often, he pictured those frigid fingers in his grasp and gained a flickering memory; the hands were small and tan. Angel could picture it easily thereafter, the stark contrast between his own frighteningly white complexion and the tan hand’s. When he attempted to follow those fingers upward, that arm seemed to dissipate into nothingness. It was unattached, floating in the void of Angel’s useless thoughts. He could screw his eyes shut, force his mind to whir and spin for hours, and it wouldn’t make an ounce of difference. His mind was a wall of walls, shrouded in an impenetrable fortress.

Without so much as another thought, Angel swung his arm to his mouth and chomped down hard. His entire body thrummed with adrenaline, shocking his cells alive until they were burnt, but he continued, his jaw shaking as he forced his teeth through his leathery, human skin until it punctured open, his blood spewing into his mouth and face. Once he breached the first barrier, the rest was easier to bite— all squishy, wet meat inside. His mouth flooded with the strong, metallic taste of his own blood, the aroma of the syrupy fluid assaulting all of his senses. He could feel the hot liquid pouring down his arm, and he was soothed by the sheer warmth of it. He tore off a chunk and spit it out onto the floor, uninterested in satiating anything but his desire to destroy. If he could rid himself of his skin, shred himself down to muscles and bone, maybe he could begin to repent for his nature; for the life that once flowed through that small, tan hand. His throat began to hurt and his face was wet, two details that had gone unnoticed until now.

All at once, there were furious hands grabbing him by the shoulders and tugging him off the bed, dragging him across the floor by the balled up scruff of his shirt. Angel’s eyes were bleary and flooded as they blinked back to life, attempting to gaze up at the man dropping him on the bathroom tile— cold, the dead kind of cold, biting into his back. His wings flapped frantically, attempting to flee this sensation with a life-threatening urgency, his swinging motions knocking items that clattered to the floor with a deafness to him. He could hear murmurs trying to cut through what felt like cloth in his ears, his body numb if not for his hot, wet face that was being rattled by a pair of strong hands. Angel opened his eyes wider as if he could peek over that blurry film that left him blind, blinked hard and tried to focus on whatever was in front of him, but it was useless. He felt his vision start to go dark, his head lulling around limply as though his neck had lost all muscular function.

When he came to, he could feel a sharp, stinging pain surging up his arm. He hissed and tried to pull away until something, or someone, clamped him at the shoulder. His eyes opened unsteadily, rolling around his skull until they managed to make out the face of the young boy holding him down, his expression tensed and awkward. Just behind him, the horned, female devil towered above Angel’s feeble form.

“He awakens,” she murmured gravely, hands squarely on her hips as her wide, yellow eyes surveyed his wound.

“Keep him still,” Aki grunted, and Angel followed that voice like it was a shimmering ray of light at the end of a dark tunnel. When his gaze landed on the man, he noticed the contortion of his focused expression, the way his brows were pulled down low, his hands working. That stinging pain ignited again and Angel let out a grunt, his body trembling under the sensation until it distilled into a burning ache.

“Blood…” Angel managed, his throat rough as he swallowed, “... need blood.”

“You’ve had enough for the night,” Aki grunted, the irritation in his voice betraying his typically cool demeanor.

Angel groaned weakly, knocking his head back against the tile below him that had since grown warm and sticky with his sweat. His wings were crushed under the weight of his body and he ached to stand up and stretch.

“Public Safety will think you were trying to get out of your obligations,” Aki huffed through his nose, his brows raised in a pointed manner.

There was a silence that settled uncomfortably over the fluorescent room. Angel wasn’t trying to kill himself necessarily, but he also wasn’t terribly interested in self-preservation at the time that he married skin to teeth. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched Aki slowly become more suspicious of this notion.

“Wasn’t…” Angel murmured like a dejected child, his defense falling on deaf ears.

When Aki finally let him sit up— slowly, or you might pass out again— it was only after he’d secured white bandages around and around his thin arm until he could almost pretend that a gaping wound wasn’t lying just beneath its many layers. Angel stretched his wings as much as he could in the cramped space, watching Denji and Power exit the room upon Aki’s dismissal.

Angel felt raw all over, like his mind was made of mush. When he looked at Aki again, he was met with a face tight with disappointment. He couldn’t quite understand it.

Aki grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet and stood up to wet it under the sink. He rang it out and tossed it into Angel’s lap, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bathroom counter.

“Wipe your face, you look like you killed someone,” he huffed.

Angel pressed it to his face and mouth, smearing it around haphazardly, eyeing the cloth now stained in streaks of pale red and pink. He licked his lips. He swore he could still taste the thick flavor of his own blood.

“Stand up,” Aki said sternly, nudging Angel’s leg with his foot. When Angel didn’t move, Aki knelt down beside him and tried to get a good look at his glassy eyes. Angel stared blankly into his critical gaze, noting how the overhead lights seemed to exacerbate his deep eye bags, his too-pale skin, the shadows his eyebrows made. He looked rough.

“Angel,” he said again, his voice resolute. “Stand up, or I’m dragging you out of here by that arm.”

Angel grunted lowly and used his good arm to hoist himself up on unsteady legs, his balance off-kilter as he nearly crashed into the wall. Aki grabbed him by pure instinct, one hand secured at his side and the other on his shoulder, cursing under his breath about Angel’s condition. Angel couldn’t help but notice how warm Aki’s hands were, the heat bleeding beneath his clothes and into his skin.

Aki shuffled the two of them awkwardly to his bedroom, expecting there to be too much carnage back in Angel’s. He settled him onto the bed, watching the way he weakly flopped onto his good arm and winced, his wing curling over his small body to blanket himself. Angel’s shirt and pants were each splotched with his own blood, a detail that turned Aki’s stomach. Briefly, he imagined what would have happened if he hadn’t breached the door at the time that he did, if he hadn’t heard the unshakable sounds of Angel heaving and screaming as he so ruthlessly tore into himself. He supposed he would’ve seen a lifeless body which, at first glance, was not unlike those of his rookies, former partners, parents… baby brother. But Angel was unlike them; he was unimaginably powerful, crafted for the purpose of intimate destruction. Angel was not another lifeless body, he was a devil— a creature always at the winning end of his repeated losses.

Aki was incensed, a frustration that felt righteous in nature. He sat there and watched Angel’s eyes flutter shut, his wing twitching absentmindedly as he fell asleep on Aki’s bed. Aki screwed his teeth so tightly together that, as Denji appeared in the doorway behind him, his jaw ached when he opened his mouth to speak.

“So… what’re you gonna do?” the younger boy muttered and pressed his cheek to the door frame.

Aki just sighed. “What can I do?” he grumbled, more to himself than to the blonde seeking out a definitive answer. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and slowly crossed his arms, one over the other. “If he’s deemed reckless and obstructive, they’ll just kill him.”

Denji’s brows twitched, his hand coming up to scratch his forehead with the back of his thumbnail. “Mm… maybe it was just a one time thing, y’know?”

Aki, of all people, knew a little too well. As if on command, the healed over scars tucked safely beneath his sleeve began to itch. This wasn’t something anyone simply came back from, devil or not. This was evidence of something greater, and in Angel’s case, proof that his mind had begun to slowly poison him. He guessed there was more overlap between devils and humans than he initially thought, and the sentiment sent chills down his body. Either that, or Angel’s close cooperation with humans had led him to adapt certain behaviors of theirs. He wondered, briefly, who he could’ve learned this from, or if this was merely something lying dormant within him all along. Perhaps being part-angel lended him an emotional vulnerability other devils lacked, one that could breed such a destruction pointed inward. Perhaps this was his two halves, angel and devil, at war with each other.

Denji spoke up again upon Aki’s silence, his voice holding a grave insistence. “I mean… I don’t blame the guy. Can’t get close to a chick without killin’ her. That’s a sad life to live. I’d prob’ly try to gnaw my own arm off, too.”

Aki passed him an impatient look. “Go to bed, Denji. It’s late,” he sighed not unkindly.

“I’m just saying,” Denji licked his chapped lips and peered across the room at Angel’s sleeping form, “he could be a real reliability.”
“A liability,” Aki corrected with a grunt, the creases in his face deepening. “Bed. Go.”

Denji waved him off and left with a huff, shutting the door with a halfhearted, “night.”

When Aki was left in his own silence, he felt his eyes grazing toward Angel curled up on his side. Something urged him to tell Makima immediately, but another part of him spoke just a bit louder; that piece of him that sacrificed his limited life-span to save Angel amidst combat. He was ready to die, at peace with the whole ordeal, and still… Aki just couldn’t let him do it, couldn’t let him become another name on the ever-growing list which haunted his every waking moment.

Aki resigned himself to the opposite corner of the bed, folded his arms over his body, and pressed the back of his head to the wall. He kept his eyes trained steadily on Angel until he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

On an average weekday, Angel awoke to the sensation of Aki shaking him by the shoulder, whose face he always met with a disgruntled stare. Aki allowed him to sleep in as late as he possibly could while still allowing the pair to be forty-five minutes early, as per Aki’s (absurd, according to Angel) standard for timeliness. This morning, however, Angel came to with no such sensation. When his eyes came unglued, he was met with the overwhelming ringing of complete silence, his body processing the loss of this small, yet invaluable touch. He surveyed the room which, to his perplexity, wasn’t his own.

Angel’s body shifted upward, his massive wings unfurling and fluffing themselves before curling snugly against his back. He rubbed his eyes, wincing at the surging pain awakened in his arm again. All at once, a perfect recall of what unfolded last night came crashing through his memory: the taste of his own blood, the frigid bathroom floor, Aki patching his wound. In an attempt to exorcise his own ghosts, he’d seemingly ended up passing out on Aki’s bed. He could even see a spot of drool on his comforter. He grimaced, feeling sickly warm and uneasy.

He gazed out the balcony door in search of Aki, who he caught pacing back and forth on the phone. He stood to his feet, still clad in his blood-stained pajamas, and shuffled toward him, breaching the door to the freezing outside world. He couldn’t hear his murmurings from the doorway with the roaring wind in his ears, so he shielded himself with his wings encased around his body and stepped onto the ground. It was cold and unforgiving on his skin, the chill sweeping up his calf in a trail of goosebumps, but he pressed forth anyway with a sense of dread thrumming through his chest.

Aki noticed his presence and quickly finished up, securing his phone in his pocket.

“Who was that?” Angel murmured out as the wind beat his long hair around like crazy. He was surprised Aki was even able to maintain a regular conversation with how loud it was.

“Makima,” Aki said simply, tucking a cigarette in his mouth and attempting to light it in the barrier of his palm. He flicked his lighter again and again, trying to will that weak flame to fight back against the wind.

Angel’s blood ran cold, those three syllables like crashing cymbals in his ears. Inexplicably, he could feel that cold sensation in his arm again, as if he’d exposed his raw musculature to the clean air. In all his ruthless gnawing, he’d seemingly failed to rid himself of that dreadful shiver that lived deeper within him.

Next time, Angel thought in a flicker.

Aki could see the way Angel stiffened and he took it in stride; Angel was, at the very least, afraid of being insubordinate to Makima.

“You look scared shitless,” he huffed out a plume of smoke, the edge of his mouth twitching. “You should be… for that stupid stunt you pulled.”

Angel swallowed thickly, his words coming out as little more than a croak, “What did she say?”

“She’s willing to provide you with blood and time off if you’re willing to explain yourself in person,” Aki plucked his cigarette from his mouth and sighed, glancing at the shorter man beside him. “So, you should come up with an excuse that doesn’t involve attempted suicide.”

Angel met his eyes with a contorted expression. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”

Aki scoffed quietly and shook his head, tucking his cigarette back between his lips. “Could’ve fooled me.”

For a long and quiet moment, the two stared out at the grey cityscape in the distance and everything felt frozen in place. Angel knew when Aki’s eyes were on him again for the way they seemed to burn holes right through him, his penetrative gaze heavy with questions unanswered. He knew Aki could be terribly persistent, and he knew he had a bullshit radar that had been fine-tuned from his many years in Public Safety. Angel was, essentially, bound to the truth. When Angel met his gaze, deep red stared into an even deeper blue; a frozen lake faced with a pool of blood.

“What is it, then?” Aki prompted, his eyes trained steadily on Angel’s every minute movement. “Why’d you do it?”

Angel shifted and turned his eyes away from those cool blues, from that frown that pierced him. “I just… did,” he offered lazily, knowing Aki wouldn’t possibly be satisfied with such a blasé answer. “I needed to.”

“You needed to?” Aki’s brow raised in an accusatory point, his voice coming out a hair softer than he intended.

Angel shrugged and shook his head, feeling somewhat hopeless. If he couldn’t explain himself to Aki, he had not the slightest clue how he’d manage himself with Makima. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“So help me, then,” Aki said simply, plucking his cigarette from his mouth to tap ash. After a short beat, he stuck it squarely in his mouth and murmured around it. “Makima trusts my word.”

Angel huffed at the obviousness of his statement and rubbed his eye with his palm, hard enough to see grainy colors morphing into each other behind his eyelid; orange and yellow and flecks of green.

“I blacked out,” Angel said slowly, carefully, as though the verbal confirmation of such an experience would cause it to come back at that moment. He swore it almost did, as though he were a few blinks away from seeing that searing image in his eyelids again. “I’m being haunted by a face I can’t recall,” he said with a flat sort of finality.

Aki didn’t react. His expression was steady and attentive as he listened, his thoughtful silence pressing for more information.

Angel took a breath and swallowed the disgusting lump that began crawling up his throat. He could taste the acidity boiling in his stomach. If he said more, he might’ve thrown up on the spot.

Aki conceded with an unsatisfied expression, his eyes graciously wandering elsewhere. Angel was grateful for the way he seemed to redirect his attention, free from that gaze that seemed to drill right into him. He felt like he could breathe just a bit deeper.

“Makima will understand,” Aki hummed, but it was the furthest thing from Angel’s mind.

—

Upon setting foot within the Public Safety building, Aki and Angel climbed a number of stairs, took a number of elevators to reach all the way up to Makima’s office. Angel felt as though they were scaling a castle.

Down that narrow hallway, Makima’s door sat at the end on the left side. It was like any other door, simple and undaunting, but Angel still felt his stomach trying to flee out of his mouth. Aki knocked but did not enter, leaning against the wall adjacent to the door so that his face would be the first thing Angel would lay eyes on as he left. It soothed him if only for a second.

“Come in.” Makima’s voice was smooth and muffled from inside the room, and Angel pressed the door open as he shuffled inside awkwardly.

He stood before her with his wings curled over his arms instinctually, something he only noticed when she motioned him to present her his arm. She hummed, her fingers capturing him with a gentle hold, her gaze soft as she thumbed over the ridges of the white wrapping.

“Looks like you’ve made quite the mark,” she gazed up at him with that faint, permanent suggestion of a smile on her mouth.

He nodded slowly, forcing himself to hold eye-contact despite the way his stomach lurched. She had a presence that was heavy and threatening, yet her voice often carried with a mother’s patience. It perplexed Angel to his core, and so it scared him. If he thought Aki was difficult to read, then Makima made herself impossible.

“Angel Devil,” Makima perched her pointed chin on her fingers loosely held together, “Aki has briefed me on your accident, but I would like you to tell me what happened from your perspective.”

Angel squeezed his teeth together. He presumed that he shouldn’t tell the truth, but he was unsure of what to fill in that large, conspicuous blank. Lying could only cause things to worsen— Makima had a way of knowing everything, or at least poising herself as though she knew. Before he knew it, and before he could even begin to construct a fable, the words were being tugged right out from his gut in a long string through his throat.

“I was overcome with a fit of rage,” Angel said quietly, his eyes glued to the brown carpet below him. “I’ve been unsettled with nightmares and disconcerting memories each night, and I simply couldn’t stand to watch my past loop behind my eyes for another moment.”

Angel heaved when he stopped speaking, feeling sick to his stomach. Makima looked pleased.

“And this accident,” she nearly purred, tilting her head an inch as her glowing eyes held him glued to the ground, “is to be thought of as a one-time occurrence, yes?”

“Yes,” Angel croaked back.

“I see,” she hummed and plucked a yellow folder from her bottom drawer. She sifted through the small stack of forms inside before sliding one out and setting it aside. “You may call Aki into the room.”

With greatly forced and mechanical movements, Angel stepped toward the door and left it open for him. When the man with raven hair entered, he bowed his head familiarly at Makima and held his hands behind his back, awaiting further instructions.

“Hayakawa,” Makima greeted him warmly, clicking her pen as she scribbled down a small x by which he was meant to write his signature, “please, sit.”

And so he did without question. Angel remained standing, his knees feeling wobbly, the sweat on the back of his neck beginning to trickle beneath the collar of his uniform. She turned the form so it was faced toward Aki and Angel, sliding her pen toward Aki before clasping her hands together.

“Angel Devil is to be under your surveillance until we are certain that no further accidents will occur,” she explained swiftly, her voice soft yet taunting; the way she subtly emphasized the word accidents as though she was gesturing to the irony of such a declaration. This was no small accident, that much was evident enough to everyone in the room but Angel.

“As his partner, it will be your responsibility to report whether this behavior should continue or worsen over time,” She turned the page to face him and placed her shiny, red pen just beside it. “This process could take anywhere from weeks to months, depending on Angel Devil’s progress.”

Angel felt furious. Aki looked contemplative.

“Is this necessary for a one-time incident?” Aki asked, his voice smooth and polite and undaunted. He was good at that, at questioning authority without being perceived as out of line, somehow. “I’m busy enough as it is, ma’am.”

“This is a precautionary measure to assure that Angel Devil will continue his cooperation with Public Safety. If he were to become hostile or otherwise mentally unfit for our operation, he would be swiftly dealt with,” Makima went on in that sterile tone of hers, perfectly flat as it was threatening. “I trust that you will be a good influence, Hayakawa.”

Aki didn’t argue, just nodded shortly and scratched his name on that piece of paper. Perhaps he was endeared by her compliments, or he knew this was definitive and couldn’t be shifted this way or that way, or maybe it was all of the above.

Makima did not ask for Angel’s signature because he wasn’t regarded with bodily autonomy, legal or otherwise. A signature from a Devil in itself is a laughable concept— as though Angel’s word meant anything to anyone— as if he had any means to promise to, in essence, behave. But he would, anyway. He may have wanted to rid himself of his mind, but not like this. Not at the hands of Makima. And so he halfheartedly agreed, watched Aki sign away the Devil’s lack of rights and did nothing about it. What could he do but silently follow Aki out the door without another word?

—

He was given a blood bag, plump and red as his crimson eyes. He wanted to bite into that flimsy plastic with his teeth and allow the blood to burst into his mouth like he was eating a live animal. Aki didn’t let him, swatted him away when he began to lean toward it with his mouth ajar.

“Unscrew it, for God’s sake,” Aki grumbled before doing it himself, cracking open the twisty end that would allow Angel to tip his head back and drink like it was a massive cocktail.

Angel found his words to be absurd. He was almost certain that Aki wasn’t a man who bothered to believe in a God. He hardly cared as the blood reached his mouth, though, rich like dark chocolate as it clung to his teeth. Aki watched him with barely disguised disgust. When Angel finished, he pressed the empty bag to the dining table and gasped for air as if his whole body was invigorated back to life. He was sure the inside of his mouth was all stained pink, now. His wound would be healed by tomorrow. Regardless, Aki insisted on changing his dressing.

“Hold still,” Aki grumbled as he carefully unwrapped the wrinkled, white coil from his pale skin. He worked with a certain delicateness, his fingers poised as though he were handling a priceless teacup. Angel found it oddly charming, finding himself somewhat unable to take his eyes off the feminine posturing of his long fingers. By the time Aki was securing another bandage around his arm, he’d barely come to.

“Angel,” he grumbled, his brow twitching much like the irritated flick of a cat’s tail. “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

Angel just shook his head. Aki sighed.

“It’s my job to make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” he rested his arms on his knees, slotting his hands loosely together. “Therefore, your right to privacy is over.”

Angel knew he should’ve been tipping with anger as he was back in the office when Makima dropped this absurd prospect. Now, however, he only thought of Aki’s hands. His nimble, pale fingers.

“Whatever,” Angel shrugged and swallowed the sizable lump in his throat.

Aki scoffed and shook his head, but he didn’t press it any further. There was no use in arguing if Angel was willfully giving himself over.

And so, their ridiculous arrangement was made: Aki was to accompany Angel in his every waking moment. It was pointless for Angel to have his own room, and so he didn’t. It became an odd, unused guest bedroom haunted by the faded splotches of Angel’s blood seeped into the carpet.

As Angel shifted his small share of clothing into Aki’s closet, he felt an unfamiliar sensation take over him. Perhaps it was the mingling of their clothing, the fact that Angel’s shirts will have picked up Aki’s scent from being pressed to his, or perhaps it was Aki’s willingness to share his space. Either way, Angel felt himself to be more flustered than usual. Whirlwinds of once dormant desire came rushing back, flooding him in warmth in spite of its usual cold and mocking air. He felt it in his arms, his legs, his fingertips, that buzz of what if’s.

The first night was expectedly awkward. The two men had had their fair share of silences, but this one felt uniquely daunting. Aki was so hard pressed for words that he shuffled out to brush his teeth roughly three hours early. Angel watched him go, folding his arms over his stomach as he attempted to fit his lanky body within the small cot Aki provided beside his bed. In all fairness, the size would’ve been apt if not for his giant wings splayed beneath him. He maneuvered himself on his stomach, his wings hanging in a sad arch off either side of the cot, the soft points of his feathers nearly scraping the carpet.

When Aki returned, he eyed Angel’s positioning. His hair was brushed and loose, falling softly over his shoulders in contrast to the sharp pieces that framed his slender face. It was such a bewildering sight to Angel that his wings twitched.

“Oh.”

“You— what?”

“Your hair.”

“What about my hair?”

“It’s… long.”

Aki’s gaze lingered on him before he discarded Angel’s murmurings with a slight huff, reaching for the remote to flick on the small TV perched before the bed. He sat on its edge, the mattress giving a small rebound. Angel watched him with such attentiveness that he felt as though they were already betraying their agreement— surely, Aki was supposed to be paying this kind of attention to him.

“Your hair is too long,” Aki murmured unprompted, casting a glance at Angel over his shoulder. “It’s always a mess.”

The gentle glow of the TV softened his features, made him look more alive. Angel was infatuated with the way his pale skin burned in soft blues and pinks. Angel watched the man turn his attention back to the screen, feeling somewhat at a loss. He wanted to say something to bring those deep pools of blue back to him.

“Okay,” he murmured as though he was going to do something about it, the what still in question.

Aki didn't look back at him.

-

After a short stretch of time, Aki began to unwind. He went from sitting upright to laying on his stomach, his head nested in his folded arms. Then, Angel watched his eyes grow heavy, his eyelids fluttering with the effort it took to keep them open. Even as he let them shut, even as his cheek smushed further into his arm, he called out to Angel with a halfhearted and lazy voice.

“Quit staring,” he groaned softly, the soft rasp in his throat portraying just how tired he was. “Go to sleep.”

Angel nibbled his chapped lip. If not for his protest, he’d be content to watch Aki until the black sky made its slow churn into morning.

“I can’t,” Angel said slowly, and so Aki’s eyes opened again.

The man shifted, rubbing his half-lidded eyes as he situated himself properly against his pillows. He stared at the ceiling and tucked his arms neatly over his chest. “Are you an insomniac?” he asked simply.

Angel didn’t have a clue. Aki could tell by the way his brows furrowed.

“Do you have nightmares?” Aki squinted over at him as the flashing TV whirred on in the background. Angel’s gaze lowered, his eyes trailing the shadows and creases in Aki’s comforter. Aki knew the answer, could see it all over his face, but he waited patiently for Angel to affirm it. He didn’t, and the silence stretched taut over the room like a rubber band. Aki sighed, feeling entirely out of his element. “Is it every night, then?”

“Most nights,” Angel said softly, his voice creaking. Aki hummed low in his throat.

The sound of the door shifting open startled Angel out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering to the nosy blonde just behind it. Aki squinted at him and rubbed his eyes. “You need to knock, Denji,” he grunted, but his voice was smooth and easy as he regarded the boy. He’d learned to expect such intrusions after a while. “What do you need?”

“Just sayin’ goodnight,” he muttered back, his eyes slowly turning to acknowledge Angel splayed out beside him. “Is he staying in here, now?”

Aki nodded and leaned toward his bedside table, rummaging through the drawer until he found his soft pack of cigarettes. He thumbed it open and shimmied one out, gesturing lazily toward the other side of the room as he tucked the cigarette in his mouth. “Open the window, will you?”

The boy paused and padded toward the window near Angel’s cot, shifting it open halfway. The cool breeze poured inside and tickled his feathers. Denji nodded at Aki over his shoulder before slipping out of the room, the door shutting with a soft click.

Aki swiped the lighter laying discarded on the counter and lit the end of his cigarette aflame. He took a few puffs before extending it toward Angel, who raised a brow at this gesture. Angel had watched Aki smoke numerous times, almost copiously after missions, and not once had the man thought to offer him one, and not once had Angel thought to mention it.

“Why?” Angel asked, but his arm was already outstretched before him, his hand in such a delicate proximity with Aki’s. If he so much as twitched, their fingers might’ve brushed for a fleeting, killing moment.

“It helps me sleep,” Aki answered simply, watching as Angel held the stick curiously between his pointer finger and thumb. “Don’t squish it.”

“I won’t,” Angel muttered out with an edge. He held it to his mouth and sucked in a breath. The grainy, dirty smoke hit the back of his throat and made him cough. He did it again, that tickle returning as well as a slight ease in his shoulders.

“You might get high,” Aki warned, feeling a childlike sense of curiosity overtake him as he added, “Can you get high?”

Angel huffed at the slight absurdity of his ask. He was charmed with the way Aki’s eyes remained transfixed on him, as though waiting to test such a hypothesis. “I’ve never tried,” Angel hummed and took another puff, blowing it upward toward the ceiling. He liked to watch that cloud dissipate just before it reached the top. He did it again, and again, and again, until Aki was stretching toward him impatiently.

“You’re gonna smoke it all. Give it here.”

Angel passed the cigarette reluctantly. “I thought that was the point,” he hummed, staring at the ceiling with a lazy, swirling feeling in his head.

“How do you feel?” Aki cocked a brow, tapping the clump of ash into a small tray on his nightstand.

“Tingly,” Angel answered, the feathers on his wings absentmindedly curling and uncurling, like a closed fist into a flat palm.

“Tingly,” Aki nodded and indulged in the last few drags before killing it in one swift motion. He’d smoked so often that his nicotine buzz was quite fleeting, but in this moment, he felt it; soft and warm and unwinding each tick, each knot wound tight in his body.

As Aki turned to look at Angel again, his eyes were shut, his arms curled into his chest. Aki watched him until he couldn’t stand to keep his eyes open— until Angel’s chest ballooned with labored breaths, a soft snore rumbling in the back of his throat.

Chapter Text

Initially, and perhaps naively, Angel assumed Aki would quickly grow bored with the chore of monitoring him and end up half-assing or giving it up all together. He could picture Aki becoming forgetful— leaving Angel for a smoke break, ditching him to take a bath or go to the bar.

Angel knew better. It didn’t matter if it was a waste of time or a painful inconvenience, these were Makima’s orders, and so Aki followed them as scripture.

What Angel especially didn’t expect was to be woken up at a cold and unkind six in the morning.

He croaked and flapped his wings, his eyelids sore and heavy as he forced them open. An unintelligible noise left his mouth, a halfhearted whine. 

“I gotta shower,” Aki murmured flatly above him, his eyebags still puffy with sleep. “I can’t leave you alone, so you have to come with.”

Angel’s face contorted at him. “In the shower?”

Aki huffed and narrowed his eyes. “In the bathroom, idiot.”

And so, Angel sat perched on the lid of the toilet, his body twisting to press his face into that cold porcelain backing. He pillowed his head with his arms, listening hard to the rushing water and pretending as though it were rain.

Aki busied himself by brushing his teeth as the conditioner marinated in his hair. He was a lean and pale thing, his body sturdy and strong despite his somewhat small stature. Angel kept his eyes shut, for he didn’t know where they’d wander if he dared to open them. It was tempting, though, to follow that long curve down Aki’s back to see where it’d lead.

Angel was so in between realities that he didn’t register when the water had stopped or exactly how long Aki had been in there for. He must've fallen asleep again, all things considering. He only opened his eyes when Aki shook his shoulder with a wet hand, using the other to hold the towel hanging loosely around his waist in place.

Now, Angel wasn’t so deft as to believe attraction could come only in one form, nor was he distressed with the fickle and naive perspectives humans had on gender and sex. Aki was a man and Angel was, socially, also a man. But, Aki was skin and bones in a manner that Angel never would be; he was fragile and humbled by his own mortality. Angel was perturbed by this; not by Aki’s fleeting lifespan, but by his own unshakable intrigue in him. Why his eyes trembled with the effort it took to keep them planted on his face, he didn’t know. He could only wonder if the same God who created himself in alignment with human desire might have done the inverse with Aki. His hard lines, dark eyes, and callouses made him all too strangely tantalizing to the devil in a way that felt too purposeful to ignore. That wet handprint on his shirt seemed to burn, now.

“You should take one, too,” Aki walked past him with dripping hair, little splatters of water trailing his movements. He dropped his toothbrush into its plastic holder and grabbed a towel from the hook to rub into his head and face.

“Why? I don’t need one,” Angel swiveled himself to peer at Aki through the open bathroom door.

“It’s a good habit,” Aki shook out his damp hair and grabbed a comb from the drawer, brushing through his knotted ends with a careful hand. “It’ll wake you up.”

“I don’t want to wake up,” Angel groaned and rubbed his eyes like a dejected child.

Aki passed him an impatient glance. “I’m not going to keep waking you up every five minutes.”

After a pause, he resumed his combing. “I’ll make you coffee,” he offered as a sort of peace agreement.

Angel had only tasted coffee a handful of times when he briefly wanted to play along with other caffeine-addled humans. He’d had the kind at the Public Safety headquarters, the bitter and dark liquid pooling in a flimsy paper cup. He much preferred the small pockets of sweet cream in the basket just beside the machine. Regardless, he obliged. There was little use to argue with Aki. Plus, his warped brain couldn’t quite turn down the opportunity to undress in front of the other man, who kept his eyes firmly on his own reflection.

Aki did look in one or two flickers, catching glimpses of his small, pale body and what looked like small peaks of breasts. This caused a small twitch of confusion in him before he realized it was somewhat absurd to expect a Devil’s body to be anything but atypical. When he looked again, his attention was one his wings that protruded out of him disproportionately wide. They kept clanging against the sliding shower door, knocking the same shampoo bottle over at least twice before Aki complained.

“Angel.”

“It's not on purpose. Your shower is quite small.”

“Yeah, I gathered.”

“I have to wash them, too, you know?”

Aki paused. “How do you figure that?”

Angel shrugged. “In here? I’m not sure.”

Aki felt a coil of curiosity settling in his stomach. Angel sensed the thick tension that settled between them as he lathered the soap in circular motions on his chest.

“It’d be easier if you took a bath,” Aki grunted, already making his way toward Angel with little warning. He slid the clear door to the side, reaching his dry arm toward the faucet.
“Here,” he pressed the metal pin down so the water began splashing loudly out of the sink spout, pooling at Angel’s feet. 

Angel watched Aki kneel on the tile floor so he could plug the drain. His eyes went slightly large as he observed how neutral and expressionless his face was, like he was entirely unbothered by Angel’s naked body in his periphery. He knew humans to be far more sheepish with nudity than this, and so his confusion was amplified tenfold. What’s more was his willingness to do seemingly everything for Angel, especially at his own inconvenience, something Aki wouldn’t have previously done so easily unless he was nagged into it. Was he beginning to pity him?

Aki lingered from where he sat on the cold floor, his expectant expression prodding Angel. “You can sit, now.” 

Angel felt tingly at the mere suggestion of meeting Aki where he was at. He didn’t cover himself as his red bush of hair seemed to do that for him, anyways, but he felt vulnerable with how his bare skin prickled in goosebumps against the cold air, almost reminding him that he was unclothed. Aki made a silent and half-humorous realization that the carpet did match the drapes. 

Angel crouched down into the tub that had filled up to his stomach. The soft points of his wings were submerged, too, and the rest of his feathers began to unfurl. Aki had turned his attention away, by now, but Angel was nibbling his lip raw with a hot, whirring desire thrumming through his core. It was too much that Aki was close to him, too much that Aki was still donned in only a damp towel, that he’d sequestered himself to the floor like it was nothing. Aki pressed his head into the wall, the slant of his jaw more prominent under the bright bathroom bulb. 

As the water trailed higher up Angel’s body, he began to preen his wings, his nimble fingers plucking and shifting his wet, puffed feathers back into place. 

When Aki spoke, his voice was no more than a soft rumble. “What do you want in your coffee?”

“Hm?” Angel froze in his ministrations. 

Aki’s head lulled toward him, those cool eyes heavy on his pale face. “Your coffee. What do you want in it?

Angel resumed his furtive lip-gnawing. “I don’t know… whatever will make it sweet.”

“Of course, you like it sweet,” Aki murmured, and Angel all at once felt as though the two were wandering the delicate tight-rope of human flirtation. His words felt too weighted in suggestion. 

Angel just looked at him head-on, his expression somewhat of a challenge. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Aki shook his head, his eyes trained steadily on him. “I just like it strong. Bitter.”

Angel averted his gaze, his brows furrowed in sexual-frustration. “Of course, you do,” he retorted without really knowing what he was inferring. 

Aki chuckled. The man had the audacity to chuckle, the sound light and airy as it left his mouth. And there Angel was again, fixated on a piece of Aki he wanted to know so deeply: that mouth.  

Before Angel could quite process it, Aki was reaching inside his bubble again to pull the faucet to a stop, as the water had begun crowding around the devil’s small breasts. It was too warm, too titillating as it lapped at the sensitive buds of his nipples, and now he was flushing and crossing his arms over his chest to keep Aki from noticing what was going on. 

“Hand me that,” Aki said still arched into the tub, but then he was reaching around Angel’s buzzing body himself to grab the razor seated above Angel's head on the shower ledge. He was so close, Angel could smell his shampoo, could almost taste his skin. 

Angel balked at him, scooting himself away from Aki’s arm dangling haphazardly until the back of his head knocked into the wall. “I’m not gonna try to kill myself in front of you,” he huffed. 

Aki successfully swiped the razor, running his thumb along the flaking, plastic handle. “Well, now there’s less of a means to.”

Angel, still covering his chest, averted his gaze to the clear water distorting the image of his feet. “I swear I won’t bash my head in if you just go and make me my coffee, now.”

Aki hummed, pretending to consider it. “You're impolite, you know.”

“I’m as polite as I can be with zero privacy,” Angel grumbled out, his wings curling around his shoulders and chest to cocoon him. 

Aki sighed and stood slowly to his feet. “I’ll take pity on you this time, but don’t expect it to be a recurring thing,” he muttered in a flat manner. 

As he slid out of the bathroom, Angel watched his every step, his eyes trying to pierce through that thick, white towel that taunted him.

When he was finally alone, he reached down into the warm water and slid his fingers along his cunt, whimpering softly at how wet he was. He couldn’t stop himself from rocking into his fingers that eagerly prodded his drooling hole, letting out a soft gasp once his middle finger slid inside to the knuckle. He swallowed thickly and brought his other hand to his mouth, biting the length of his thumb to keep his strained moans as quiet as possible. He pumped into himself with slow motions, trying to reign in his own need while also providing some kind of relief. His legs trembled against the hard walls of the tub, his breath growing heavier and faster. He had no idea how much time he would have, so he was keen on making the most of it, lest he lose his mind. 

Aki, who was unbeknownst to Angel’s sexual explorations, made himself a hot mug of black coffee. For Angel, he poured creamer into a half-filled mug until the coffee was a milky tan.

When he padded toward the bathroom, his soft footsteps left Angel dismayed. Angel shuddered and slid his fingers out of himself, laying limp and useless for a moment before his eyes turned to greet Aki, who peeked his face in through the door. 

“Coffee’s ready."

Angel felt mocked by how relaxed he sounded.

—

The two sat perched on the couch a cushion apart, Angel’s head flopping against the armrest from where he was slouched against it. 

The coffee was quite sweet, mainly tasting of the vanilla creamer Aki generously poured in for him. Angel sipped it more to busy his hands and mind than anything else. It worked to a laughably small degree, as each taste of the milky, sweet brew only reminded Angel of Aki’s eyes on him, or the way his voice seemed to rasp in his throat each time he spoke, or that his hands were always flying near him. Angel felt his arousal stir again and he cursed himself inwardly, groaning into his coffee mug. 

Aki looked at him with a curious brow. Angel just sighed at his notice. 

“Hungry,” he grumbled with another gulp of coffee, the word feeling almost too ironically suitable.

“You want me to make you something?” Aki asked, already shifting to sit up at Angel’s request. 

Angel suddenly wanted to throw his mug against the wall and watch it shatter. He sat there clutching it tightly, his eyes incredulous as he continued staring straight ahead.

“I don’t get it.”

Aki’s brows lowered, his mouth in a line. “Get what?”

“You being so… eager to do everything for me,” Angel’s eyes were sharp as they flickered to Aki’s face. “Is it out of pity?”

“It’s not about pity,” Aki huffed and padded toward the kitchen. He shifted the fridge door open, his fingers flitting through the vegetable drawer. “I’ll do whatever it takes so that I can get back to doing my job, even if it means coddling you.”

“Coddling,” Angel grumbled to himself and stood to his feet. What Angel needed was a genuine release, not for Aki to be his maid. 

“What you did was childish,” Aki retorted easily, glancing over his shoulder to watch Angel shuffle down the hallway. “Where are you going?”

Angel didn’t answer as he breached Aki’s bedroom door open and shut it behind himself, clicking the door locked. He crawled into his sad cot, pressing his face against the rough texture of the fabric as he felt his arousal getting tight in his body again. He slid his fingers down his stomach until he was met with that wet warmth and pressed his hips into his own hand, shuddering and sighing at the heavenly feeling of his own palm.

Aki jiggled the doorknob and scoffed when he found it to be locked, the sound of his firm knocks ringing in Angel’s ears. “Angel, c’mon. You’re not supposed to be alone.”

“In a minute,” Angel drawled, letting out soft pants as he worked his fingers inside himself impatiently, one following the other much too quickly. There was a soft soreness that made him groan, but it quickly melted away as he scissored himself open. 

Angel didn’t think anything of it when Aki went silent behind that door, which was his first grave mistake. He was so wound up in his own pleasure, in his fingers sliding to hit that spot just so, that he briefly forgot Aki was an absurdly determined man. In a swift movement, the door swung open, and Aki’s widened eyes were frozen on Angel’s writhing frame. 

Time stood still in the moments that it took for Angel to process the door clicking open. His fingers slowed to a stop as he threw an equally furious and nervous expression back at Aki, who was already staring at him. His chin was digging into the cot with his arms stuck under himself. He didn’t say anything as an embarrassed flush curled over his face, the silence so palpable that he felt as though he could chew it and feel it bleed. 

Aki’s hand slid off the doorknob, his other still loosely holding onto his spare key. 

That crook of his mouth that was always settled in a flat line twitched, and he smiled, smiled like he was amused as a short huff of breath left him. 

“Is this what caused your little freak out?” Aki’s voice was low and cocky as he asked, “You’re pent up?” 

Angel burned at him, shifting his arms out from underneath him to slide off of his cot. “You’re mocking me,” he ascertained, his eyes stuck to the carpet as he adjusted his shorts.  His fingers were still sticky with his own slick. 

Aki pressed his back against the door until it shut with a soft click. 

Angel paused and looked at him. Aki looked right back, crossing his arms over his chest. Angel couldn’t help but think he looked terribly handsome with that stupid, gentle smirk on his face. 

“Answer me,” Aki said again, softer this time. 

Angel just swallowed. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg the man. He’d humiliate himself if it meant feeling good again, if it meant distilling that ugly chill that clung to his skin. He wanted to lose himself in a sensation that didn’t taste like lead in his mouth, one that didn’t feel like the heavy swirl of someone’s life span settling in his stomach. He wanted to be warm again. 

Angel just looked at him with a heavy gaze, one weighted in all the desire thrumming through his body. His voice crackled as it left him. “ Please, just let me… ” he whispered. “I just… I just want…”

Aki hummed. Then, he cocked his head toward his bed. 

“Go, sit.”