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Gabriel had his work cut out for him.
It had been just days since the failed apocalypse, and he’d been busy putting out fires in Heaven.[1]
He had Archangel's Michael and Uriel on either side nagging at him to give guidance to the angels in his charge, now that they had nothing for which to prepare. There was a lack of purpose, and everyone was feeling it. Sandalphon had outright spiralled into misery and despair at the news that he wouldn’t get to smite some demons, or turn people into salt.
There was no one Gabriel could talk to about this.
There was absolutely no one who could understand the immense stress of getting ten million angels to stand down from their war footing.
Except.
Except maybe someone who knew the stress of getting ten million demons to put down their weapons and go back to work.
Gabriel considered it.
He’d never consorted with a Demon before. He’d known it was possible; Michael had her connections, after all. He’d just never been exposed to one long enough to make a ‘connection’.
Had he made a connection?
He waved away the notion. He didn’t need someone to talk to. He was an Angel. An Archangel, in fact. He could manage this all on his own.
At that exact moment, Uriel came barging in covered in what looked like confetti.
“Gabriel! Sandalphon is having a meltdown. He’s gone and torn up all the choir sheets for ‘Edelweiss’, and is throwing it at us saying ‘You’re salt, and you’re salt!’ Come fix it. I think he’s going to move onto ‘My Favourite Things’ next.” They said, brushing the sheet music from their hair.
“Are you saying Sandalphon is a-salting the other angels?” Gabriel smirked, so proud of his wit.
“Gabriel!” Uriel said, exasperated.
“Yes, right, ok. Just- Someone give him the Stephen Sondheim play sheets for him to work his way through, and confine him to his office. I believe some were left here by-” he cut himself off. He didn’t even want to think of him. This was all his fault anyhow. “They’re around somewhere.”
“The other angels are panicking. What are we going to do?” Uriel said, worried.
“I’ve got this, Uriel.” Gabriel smiled at them. “You go get a handle on Sandalphon, and I’ll handle the rest.”
Uriel left, and Gabriel rested his face in his hands, sighing heavily.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t manage this all on his own.
He reached into a drawer on his desk, and pulled out an official looking piece of paper. It had a golden embossed header, and the footnote read ‘From the Desk of the Archangel Gabriel.’
He scrawled upon it:
Lord Beelzebub.
I hope this finds you well.
If it would suit you, please
Meet me on Earth.
Hyde Park, at the Peter Pan statue.
Tomorrow Noon.
We have much to discuss.
Kind regards,
Archangel Gabriel.
Gabriel looked at the letter for a long moment.
He was sending this letter to a Demon. Why would he care if they were well, or if it suited them? It was an honour that he was contacting them at all!
He tore off the top and bottom of the page. He was left holding the middle, which read:
Meet me on Earth.
Hyde Park, at the Peter Pan statue.
Tomorrow Noon.
We have much to discuss.
There. That was better.
Just as he sent it off through the usual channels; he heard Uriel scream “NO! NOT ‘MY FAVOURITE THINGS’!”
Maybe he should’ve asked that they meet him today?
---
This was ridiculous.
He’s an Archangel. What was he thinking arranging to meet with a Demon?
Having just passed through the Italian Gardens in Hyde Park, Gabriel was having second thoughts.[2]
He was close, and the sun was nearly directly above him in the late summer sky. He couldn’t possibly not show up now. It’d look bad on him as an Angel if he didn’t. He was an A N G E L. Angels didn’t just make plans and then bail on the last second.
The Prince of Hell probably wouldn’t even be there. There’s no way they’d respond to an Angel’s message.
But they were there.
Beelzebub sat on a bench against the fence facing the statue, arms crossed.
They looked pissed. And bored.
They looked...piss bored.
Gabriel studied them for a moment before approaching. There was something...peculiar about the way they held themselves. Gabriel realised what it was with a click.
There was no fake smile. No feigned patience. No forced politeness. None of those angelic qualities.
It was just them. As they were.
Something about it took Gabriel’s breath away.
“Demon Lord Beelzebub! What an honour.” Gabriel approached, clapping his hands together.
He didn’t say whose honour it was.
“Archangel.” Was all they replied.
“Oh please. It’s Archangel Gabriel.” He replied casually, as if he wasn’t mentally setting up some boundaries. “Have you been waiting long? I certainly didn’t expect a Demon to show up on time, let alone for them to be early.”
Beelzebub shuffled on their seat a little bit, and said through hard pressed lips “What do you want, Archangel?”
Well. If they were doing to be that way.
“Well, Demon, I was hoping with could discuss-” Gabriel began, before cutting himself off. He had rarely ever stopped himself from finishing a sentence before.
He did so because he could see that Beelzebub’s knuckles were white as they gripped their upper arms. It had taken him a while to notice, because their face had remained stoic, but their body betrayed them in the way it was held rigid and upright on the contoured bench.
Gabriel found himself asking something he rarely asked anyone;
“Are you ok?”
The Demon shuffled some more, and looked up at him.
“What is it we need to discuss?” They pushed on.
“I had hoped to discuss the events of the past week. I had quite the difficult circumstance of getting the Angels to back down. The aftermath has been quite taxing.” Gabriel put diplomatically.
“What does that have to do with me?”
“I thought you could relate.”
“The Demons of Hell obey my every command.” It sounded like a brag.
“Except one Demon, clearly.” Gabriel pointed out.
They winced. “He’s not a Demon. Not anymore. We don’t know what he is.”
“Oh?” This was news to Gabriel. “What do you mean?”
“He survived a bath of Holy Water. The scene it caused beggared description. I have Demons approaching me asking how it was done. I had to tell them that the Angel who delivered the Holy Water betrayed us. It wasn’t Holy enough to work on more than one Demon.” It was the most he’d ever heard Beelzebub say in one go.[3]
“That’s not how Holy Water works.” Gabriel said, patronisingly.
“I know that. They don’t.” They finished, and grit their teeth together.
Beelzebub really looked like they were suffocating now, despite the wide park, the freshness of the air, the good weather, and-
Oh.
“You don’t like open spaces, do you.” It wasn’t really a question. The answer was right in front of him.
Beelzebub shot him a look. “I don’t like a lot of things.” They buzzed.
Gabriel shot them a look right back. Why they would continue to suffer in such discomfort was beyond him.
“Mm, I’m sure. If I recall correctly,” he started, thoughtfully, “Michael described Hell as cramped, damp, and filled with desks.” He searched his mind, and then his face brightened. “It’s not very damp, but I hope this can put you more at ease.”
Gabriel snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were in what looked like an abandoned office building. The room they were in was stacked with tables against the wall, floor to ceiling, and one was sitatued centrally. It was dusty, and dark.
And...cosy? Gabriel hadn’t expected that.
Beelzebub visibly relaxed, and shook out their limbs. They took a deep breath, and coughed violently as the dust hit their lungs.
“Perfect.” They said. To anyone else, it would’ve sounded sarcastic, but Gabriel could tell the sentiment was genuine.
His chest warmed.
Wait.
Why did it do that?
Gabriel cleared his throat.
“No need to thank me.” He said, smugly, running his finger along one of the desks, and wiping the thick layer of dust away from his fingertip.
“I won’t.” Was the reply.
Gabriel’s mouth twitched in agitation. He was determined to see this conversation through to the end. Too many things hadn’t gone to completion this week. This was not going to be one of them.
“So...” he began, politely, “the Demon Crowley survived the holy water. That would explain why Michael has been so uptight recently.[4] You know, besides the obvious lack of a war.”
Beelzebub made a rare sound of agreement.
“That’s interesting, because the traitor Aziraphale survived the font of hellfire.” Gabriel continued, finally allowing the renegade Angel’s name to pass through his lips. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Beelzebub started another rare sound of agreement, but stopped halfway. Their eyes widened, and they looked up at Gabriel.
“What?” Said Gabriel, feeling suddenly on show with Beelzebub looking directly at him.
“An Angel survived Hellfire?”
“I know. I couldn’t believe it either.”
“And a Demon survived Holy Water.” Beelzebub continued.
“Apparently so, from what you’ve told me.”
Beelzebub looked at him meaningfully. “How do you think that was possible?”
Gabriel stilled, thinking about it.
“You don’t think...?” He posed.
“Could it be...?” Beelzebub added.
“They’ve both gone native.” The two of them said at the exact same time. [5]
“That must be it. Something about living as humans for so long has changed something in their metaphysiology.” Gabriel nodded, pleased at this revelation.
Beelzebub made another now-not-so-rare noise of agreement, straightening their jacket, and leaning against the nearest desk.
“How long?” They asked, apropos of nothing.
“How long? They’ve been on Earth since the beginning-” Gabriel sounded confused.
“No,” Beelzebub interrupted, “How long have the traitors been fraternising?” They clarified.
“Oh.” Gabriel reached into his suit pocket, and pulled out the pictures from the Earth Surveillance files that Michael had dug out. “The oldest record we have of it is in the early 1600’s. There’s evidence of it possibly happening before then too.”
Beelzbub rubbed a hand down their face. “I should’ve known.”
“How?”
“My flies,” Beelzebub waved their hand around, before realising the flies weren’t with them today. Gabriel thought they looked a little sad about it. “My flies had seen them in close proximity before. They just couldn’t get close enough to verify it.”
“You have...fly...spies?” Gabriel said sceptically.
“‘To be a fly on the wall’” Beelzebub quoted, “where did you think the term came from?”
“Uhh...” Gabriel said at a higher pitch than usual, trailing off into a shrug. “How,” he tried to salvage, “couldn’t your flies get close enough to spy accurately?”
“His plants.” They answered simply. “The fragrance would cling to him and repel them.”
“The Demon keeps plants?” Gabriel said doubtfully.
“My flies have never been able to infiltrate his private quarters.”
“Ah, it would appear he planned it that way.”
“That much is obvious.”
It was quiet between the two for a moment.
It wasn’t as uncomfortable as Gabriel had expected it to be. It had felt like a lifetime since he’d had any peace and quiet at all.
He was acutely aware that he was now enjoying himself in the presence of a Demon.
He shuddered as he felt a flutter in his chest. What was that? It had never done that before.
Beelzebub was eyeing him from their perch on the desk. They looked like they had no intention of starting the next topic of conversation.
Which was fine. Because Gabriel loved talking.
“Lord Beelzebub,” he began, taking a seat next to them on the table. His feet still touched the floor. “Do you think if those idiots were able to develop immunity, to that which should’ve destroyed them, from living amongst humans, then we could do the same from doing human things?” It was the most philosophical he’d ever gotten.
“Sounds like a waste of time.” Beelzebub replied, once again sounding bored.
Gabriel made a face. “You’ve got time to waste. Armageddon didn’t happen! And you said the Demons of Hell obey your every command. You can do whatever you want.”
Beelzebub’s eyes narrowed the tiniest of increments.
“Come on, Beelzebub. Join me with this. I’m lacking purpose, and the other Angels are driving me crazy. Just think of it as a kind of hobby.”
Gabriel couldn’t help the familiarity in which he spoke to them. His chest was doing that weird fluttery thing again, and for some reason he wanted any excuse to spend more time with the Demon Lord.
Beelzebub moved from the desk and put some distance between them before turning back to look at him.
“I am Lord Beelzebub, Prince of Hell. I don’t have ‘hobbies’.” They almost sounded offended.
“There’s no better time to start.” Gabriel opened his arms in front of him, making his point.
“Why would I- with you?” If Gabriel didn’t know better, he’d say Beelzebub looked flustered.
Oh. That was a strange feeling. The flutter in his chest had changed to a thud.
Gabriel crossed the space between them, and crouched to see eye-to-eye with Beelzebub, as he had done at the airbase during the Don’tpocalypse.[6]
“Because only I can understand the strain you’re under. Our positions are very similar. Maybe we could, I don’t know, confide in each other during this trying time.” He proposed.
Beelzebub was now beginning to look enraged. “Don’t bend down to talk to me. I am the Prince of Hell.” They buzzed.
“What? You’ve got a problem with me looking you in the eye?” Gabriel chuckled.
It was a mistake.
With one swift kick to the knees Gabriel was on the floor.
“What the fu-” he gasped, as Beelzebub put their leg over to tower above him.
“That’s a dirty mouth, Archangel.” They crouched down and pulled him up to their face with his tie. “I prefer seeing eye-to-eye this way.”
“Wha- I was trying to be nice!” Gabriel spat.
Despite himself, his chest thudded again, harder and faster. He was going to have to get a full diagnostic on this corporation when he got back to Heaven. It was clearly malfunctioning.
Beelzebub suddenly seemed less interested, like a switch had been flipped. Their grip loosened on his tie. “Of course you were. You’re an Angel.”
Gabriel realised he wanted nothing more than to keep the Demon exactly where they were, or closer, if the opportunity arose.
He grabbed Beelzebub by the collar, pulling them close. They fell to their knees, breath hitching in their throat.
And something in Gabriel’s finely tailored trousers made itself known.
Now that had never happened before. And to think, it was happening in front of this Demon. For this Demon.
He was being tempted. That was the only explanation. He’d fallen into a trap, and this Demon was going to ruin him.[7]
Gabriel snarled in Beelzebub’s face, outraged, “You petulant little- Demon!”
Beelzebub did the smallest of gasps, before bursting out laughing in his face.
Gabriel was so bewildered, he almost let go. Almost. Something within him told him to hold on for dear life.
“Why- why are you laughing? Demon! Tempter!” He tried sounding angry, but his tone was just a bit off.
They laughed some more, and placed their shaking hands over his, which held fast at their clothes.
There was a warmth that Gabriel had not expected coming from their palms. He was sure all Demons were meant to feel cold and stony. Beelzebub’s hands felt warm and pliant. His chest thudded away rapidly, and he didn’t know what to do. He was so confused. Beelzebub was straddling him, heat radiating from their body which was pulsating with laughter; the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
He wondered what it tasted like.
Gabriel pulled Beelzebub towards him, and lurched forward to meet them. He pressed their lips together forcefully, the room going silent as Beelzebub’s laughter cut off. Gabriel opened his eyes minutely to see what expression they were making. Their soulless blue eyes, which were wide open in shock, softened a little bit as they noticed Gabriel looking, and then a fire blazed within them.
Beelzebub pushed Gabriel away with a sudden shove to his shoulders, and pinned his hands to the floor.
“Archangel. This was not the kind of ‘human hobby’ I expected you to have an interest in.” They were almost smiling.
“What kind of ‘human hobby’? I meant buying clothes, or sleeping-”
He was cut off abruptly as Beelzebub leaned down, locking their lips with his, pushing him emphatically into the dusty floor beneath them, and sliding their tongue against his.
Whatever it was that was inside his trousers twitched at the sensation.
It took several more befuddled seconds of not breathing for Gabriel to realise what kind of ‘human hobby’ Beelzebub had been referring to.
His own voice rang out in his head.
‘Thank you for my pornography.’
He tried to sit up suddenly, but Beelzebub still had him pinned firmly to the floor by his wrists. They mistook his pushing up against them for enthusiasm, and only held him tighter.
He spoke around their tongue, “Wai-!”
Beelzebub pulled back instantly. “Don’t you ever shut up?”
He may be the only being in existence to see a pink tinge on the Prince of Hell’s cheeks and lips, and Almighty help him, he would do anything to keep seeing it.
“What if-” he stuttered, “What if we’re physically incompatible? Angel, Demon...” he trailed off.
Beelzebub smirked, actually smirked, and said “You know that's a lie we tell to our underlings to keep them from getting too friendly with the opposition. We're of the same stock, Archangel. Do you need reminding?"
Gabriel swallowed.
“Remind me.”
---
Gabriel’s suit jacket had been ripped clean off. It lay in tatters on the floor.
Just as well he’d been looking for an excuse to visit the tailors again.
---
“Wait- what?”
Beelzebub had undone their trousers. They wore the same style as Gabriel.
They answered by crowding him against the grubby desk, and flipping him face down. As he looked back over his shoulder at them, he noticed they were biting their lip, and their eyes looked...peckish. They pressed him into the table with one hand, whilst the other grabbed at his waistband.
“I’ll be damned.” Gabriel breathed, wanting nothing more than for Beelzebub to continue.
“Yes. You will.”
---
At one point Gabriel found himself on his back, with his shoulders hanging over the desk.
Through completely their own volition, his wings sprang out.[8]
The sparkling lavender feathers stretched out and brushed against the floor.
"Vanity is a sin, Archangel."
Gabriel was unable to respond, even if he wanted to.
"I like sin." Beelzebub sneered, their own wings manifesting.
The long forgotten part of Gabriel's mind that was still functioning had expected the wings to appear similar to that of an insect’s; wispy and transparent.
However, they were feathered like his, in darkest black, with thin silver trails in patterns much the same as a fly’s.
Gabriel felt something akin to worship, staring at them.[9]
---
Gabriel lay across the desk, mentally making an order for his tailor, panting.
Why his corporation did that, he did not know.
His chest started to thud slower, and he held Beelzebub in his arms. They had tried to squirm away, but he just held on tighter until they gave up. They rested their head on his chest.
“Fuck me.” He said breathlessly, in awe.
“Was once not enough?” Beelzebub drawled, looking up at him briefly.
Gabriel laughed heartily, Beelzebub’s head bobbing up and down on his chest.
“How the humans get anything done is beyond me. And they must spend a fortune on clothes!” He looked pointedly to the scraps of fabric surrounding them. All Gabriel had left was a little bit of shirt hanging from his shoulders, and, curiously, just one sock. Beelzebub had remained mostly fully clothed, albeit their shirt was untucked.
Beelzebub tried getting up again, but Gabriel continued to squeeze them to him.
“Oh no, I’m never letting you go. We are definitely doing that human thing again.” He said eagerly.
“Our corporations need time to recharge.” Beelzebub sighed, trying and failing to get up again.
“Well that explains it.” He said, referring to the attention span of humans. “Let’s do another human thing while we wait. Have you heard of ‘nicknames’?”
Beelzebub didn’t answer. Not unusual.
“Lord Beelzebub is quite a mouthful-” he started, blushed because it wasn’t the first time he’d had that thought in the past couple of hours, and then surged on, “how about I call you...Beelz?”
Beelzebub twisted his nipple,[10] and buzzed “I’m the Prince of Hell! I won’t be disrespected by being called...that.”
Gabriel yelped,[11] and held Beelzebub closer. “I’m not disrespecting you. In fact, I don’t think there’s anyone I respect more. It’s a human thing; nicknames. It’s a sign of familiarity.”
They buzzed quieter, “Really?”
Gabriel smiled, triumphant. [12]
“Beelz.” He said. “I’ll be the only one to call you that. What will you call me?”
“Archangel.”
“Oh come on. Be more creative.” He crooned.
“Fuckangel.”
Gabriel felt himself blush violently, and he managed to stammer “O- only in private.”
Beelzebub actually pressed their face into his chest. Is that what was called a...nuzzle?
The warmth in his chest bloomed, filling his entire body, to the ends of his fingers and the tips of his toes. His body positively radiated with it.
Oh.
His corporation wasn’t malfunctioning.
He was in love.
Being a being of love, he felt compelled to tell them immediately.
“Beelz, I- Ah!” he began, but was cut off by his lover grabbing a part of him that only sometimes existed.
“Don’t say it. I’m ready to go again.”
And so they did.
---
Beelzebub was just doing up the zip of their trousers when it struck him.
“Oh! I think the humans would call this a date!” Gabriel said gaily, sitting up on the edge of the desk, trying to decide which scrap of fabric to pick up first.
The Demon Prince looked positively aghast.
“Booty call.” Was all they replied.
Gabriel gave them his best ‘come on’ face, usually reserved for disobedient Angels trying to avert the apocalypse.
“I know what that is.” He said, arrogantly. “This is definitely a first date.”
“Keep saying it and there won’t be another. This was not a date.”
“It’s a date because I love you-” He cut himself off. He hadn’t meant to say it. He was just trying to win the argument. He had no idea how Demons responded to declarations of love, but he was about to find out.
Beelzebub looked at him momentarily, before slapping both hands onto their face, and sliding them down, distorting their features somewhat comically. They sighed heavily, and then rubbed their temples on either side of their head.
“You’re an Angel. You’re a being of love. It’s what you do.”
Something about the flippant response ticked Gabriel off.
“No, no. This is different.” Gabriel protested. “Don't dismiss this! I'm the Archangel Fucking Gabriel. You think I can’t tell the difference?”
“I’m going.” Beelzebub turned to leave.
“You felt it! I know you felt it.” Gabriel raised his voice. Beelzebub stopped still. “Right before round two. That’s when I knew- when I knew what the hell my corporation was trying to tell me. And you felt it, because I love you so overwhelmingly much that this vessel couldn’t contain it within its earthly shell.”
Beelzebub stood unmoving, their back to him.
“Beelz, my heart beat today. I thought my corporation was malfunctioning, because it’s never done that before. And it beat for you.”
They still didn’t respond. Still didn’t move.
“You-” he faltered, beginning to give up, “you don’t have to say you love me back. Even if you do. Especially if you don’t. Can a Demon even love? I don’t know! Just-” Gabriel searched for what it was he wanted. What did he want? “Know that my love for you is real, not a generic Angelic facsimile. I love you, Beelz. I love you. I love you-”
He was cut off by Beelzebub turning back and kissing him suddenly. It was, by all accounts, the most passionate kiss they’d ever given him.
“Don’t you ever shut up?” They echoed from earlier, standing back but leaving their hands on his shoulders.
Gabriel was left completely dazed.
“Better. Don’t contact me. I’ll contact you. Bye, Gabriel.” They patted him on the shoulders roughly, and started walking towards the door.
It took Gabriel a few seconds to reboot after hearing his name being said by the love of his life. He blinked a few times, stammered a bit, and called out after them, “Your flies!”
Beelzebub paused and looked down at their trousers, and back to him, confused.
Gabriel almost laughed. “No! Your flies. Your-” he waved his hands around his head, “Bring them. Next time.”
Please let there be a next time.
“They might make it easier to cope with your agoraphobia, and I’d like to meet them.” He flashed them the biggest genuine smile he’d ever had.
Beelzebub nearly looked taken aback for a moment, before turning to walk away again. They raised their hand above their shoulder as they went, and flipped him off. It was almost affectionate.
Gabriel was left alone, mostly very naked, in a room full of dusty tables, grinning from ear to ear like a complete idiot. After a moment he started picking up the tattered pieces of his suit. He’d be miracling it back together to wear back to Heaven, but it just wasn’t the same craftsmanship. He’d stop by the tailors on the way.
--
Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, Gabriel sat at his desk in Heaven. A side-effect from his jaunt to Earth was that he was now observing its dimensions and stability, if he were ever to try a certain new activity on it. He’d never noticed how clean it was before, how his face more or less reflected in its fine polish. It made him uncomfortable. He knocked over a cup of pens to make himself feel better.
As Michael walked in holding a giant stack of paper, the cup and pens righted themselves automatically.
“We’ve confiscated these from Sandalphon. We thought it best that you keep them in here until he’s moved on from a-salting people.” She said, dumping the stack of The Sound of Music chorus sheets onto his desk, blocking out his reflection.
“Eyy!” Gabriel said, pointing and smirking widely at her. Michael smiled in return, and gestured at herself proudly.
“Yes, quite.” She gloated.
Gabriel expected her to leave, but she didn’t.
“Is there...anything else I can help you with, Michael?” He asked, tentatively.
Michael looked coy, leaned towards him, and said, “Did you enjoy your exercise on Earth?”
Gabriel froze, and then picked up one of his pens casually, as he replied, “My jog? Of course. Always clears my mind, and gets me ready to take on a new day.”
Michael’s mouth twitched knowingly.
“I should let you know,” she began, “since the whole Aziraphale betraying us incident, I’ve, uh, been keeping a closer eye on the Earth Surveillance files...” she trailed off.
The pen in Gabriel’s hand snapped in half, and appeared back its cup.
Gabriel steeled himself. “I don't know what you think you've seen, Michael,” he said nonchalantly, “But I’ve heard something very interesting. Something about an Archangel in Hell miracling a Demon a towel?”
Michael's jaw hardened, the superior look on her face gone.
"Just good weather and an Angel jogging through the park." She said through gritted teeth.
"That's what I thought." Gabriel gave her a business smile, and picked up the papers on his desk. “I’ll just go put these somewhere safe. You can see yourself out, can’t you Michael?”
Michael left, and suddenly he got it.
He got why those idiots averted the apocalypse. Why there was so much deception and sneaking around. Having a war would mean raising a holy weapon against the forces of Hell, and it was completely unimaginable to think of Beelzebub as being his target.
So he gets it.
That doesn’t mean he forgives it.
---
The next day Gabriel finds a note on his desk and smiles to himself.
Desk Warehouse.
Friday Noon.
No plants.
The rest of me wants to meet you.