It’s midnight. The small neighborhood is calm and peaceful, the epitome of suburban life- but a miracle in a world torn apart by heaven’s war and the angels who are determined to become gods.

Cassiel’s ragged scream rings in the air as he sits bolt upright out of a dead sleep. His hands clutch his head as he whimpers, hands tangled in his golden blonde hair, blue eyes wide and frightened and overflowing with tears that drip down his face as he sobs and shakes.

The blankets next to him move, stirring, and a dark head is shown. “Cass?” a voice, which is just as dark as that silken black hair, joins the whimpers that were once the only thing filling the darkness.

Cassiel doesn’t answer, his fingernails digging into his scalp as he listens to the screams of thousands of people dying. It usually isn’t this bad; he can tune it out during the day, forget the pain and fear on Cole and Indie’s young, dirty faces the day they were killed by angels looking for Cassiel. He can even forget the anger in Ember’s eyes, and Diego’s promise to make him pay. But at night he’s weak, vulnerable, open to the world that always tries to intrude. At night, he sees through his brothers’ and sisters’ eyes as they commit atrocities in a war that was all his fault.

“Cassiel, are you okay?” Cassiel’s dark-haired lover sits up, worry in his near-black eyes as he looks at the angel he loves. He’s used to waking up early in the morning, or in the middle of the night, to comfort his lover.

Cassiel opens his mouth to reply, to say he’s all right as he always does before lying back down in Belial’s arms and going back to sleep. Instead, all that comes out is another choked sob. The worry in Belial’s eyes increases, and he pulls his lover into his arms, resting his chin atop Cassiel’s head.

“I’m so sorry love. This is all my fault,” he murmurs, tears coming to his eyes as he remembers how brave and confident his angel used to be when they first met. Back when Cassiel had his wings, an avenging angel dealing justice to angel that broke the rules of God. Now, though Belial enjoys his domestic life that is his reward for seducing heaven’s general, he hurts for what Cassiel has lost.

Cassiel rests his head against Belial’s shoulder and cries, mourning as much as his lover does. He remembers those days, too, when he had a righteous purpose and believed in God above everything. The days before he learned the truth about God and why He had abandoned Heaven. It pains him to have lost that innocence and honest belief that he was doing right.

But he also remembers the first time he saw Belial, when hunting down an angel that fell prey to desire. The cocky smirk, the perfect suit that emphasized an even more perfect body, and a cigarette dangling from full lips. Belial had been loud and defiant, had gone to a nightclub and come home with a neon handprint on the crotch of his pants and glitter in his hair, had kissed him in front of a crowd in a Las Vegas casino, and made love to him in their hotel room that same night. Had held him when Uriel tore his wings off.

Cassiel shakes his head, his nose running along Belial’s neck, filling with that familiar dark scent that gives him comfort. “I’m not sorry,” he says, raising his head so he can kiss the skin his nose just skimmed along.

Belial shudders under those lips; even though his task, for the latter half of his very long existence, had been to seduce the innocent, there had never been and will never be one who can affect him as much as his fallen general. “Don’t say that,” he murmurs, “I can feel your tears. Just be honest.”

“I-” Cassiel chokes up again, but the rest soon comes out, halting and stuttering though those words are, “I miss my wings. I miss my brothers and sisters. I miss heaven. I… I miss my wings!” he sobs the last, hands clenching in Belial’s sleep shirt.

Belial makes a soothing nose, his eyes on the ceiling as tears fill his eyes; it hurts him to know how much Cassiel misses what he stole from him. Uriel might have been the one to tear the angel’s wings off, but it was Belial who took the angel in a hotel room, soiling him by heaven’s ridiculous standards. He knows, and he knows he should feel guilty- yet, knowing he has his angel because of it, all he feels is the pain of how his lover hurts.

“But,” Cassiel sniffles, raising his head and forcing a smile, “I have you, Belial. That’s all I need. You’re my heart.”

Belial’s mouth falls open, and the tears fall, making trails down his face. It is his turn to sob, burying his nose in Cassiel’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he cries, “I’m so sorry, Cass.”

Cassiel smiles at the window, at the stars that can be seen in the dark sky. “Stop saying that. I already told you I’m not sorry. Do you always have to be so stubborn?”

That brings a laugh out of Belial, and he leans back to take in his lover’s face. Cassiel’s breath falters; he’s always referred to Belial as ‘walking sex’, but seeing him so vulnerable is something he’s only seen once or twice, and his heart aches at the sight of it. For once, he takes the initiative, cupping Belial’s face in his hands and kissing the demon with the bittersweet love that fills his heart. It’s only a moment’s wait before Belial kisses him back, soft and sweet.

They pull away at the same time, sky blue eyes meeting black. “Cass,” Belial says softly, kissing the fallen angel’s forehead.

“Mm?” he replies as they lay back down, snuggling close to each other, fitting as perfectly as if God had made them for each other.

Belial keeps his arms around his lover, knowing how much easier it is for the angel when his warmth gives him comfort. “I’ll be your wings, Cass.”

The angel looks up, eyes gone wide, to find Belial completely earnest. A true smile shines on his face, reminding Belial of one of the countless reasons why he loves Cassiel. “I love you, Belly,” he says, laughing a little when Belial winces at that nickname.

“I love you, too, Cass,” the demon answers, dropping another kiss on top of his lover’s head before they both let sleep claim them, knowing they have a long day ahead of them, because they both know the world is changing and they don’t have much more time before they’re once more a part of it.