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"On Proper Angelic Behaviour"Written By: Keiran Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or its characters...
Shame about that. Rating: PG 13 Pairing: 1+2 Warnings: Fluff, sap. Summary: one angel + one demon + one Earth = ineffable, really notes: These are actually two drabbles (ficlets)
written for a/ Christmas b/ meme request. They fall together rather
seamlessly. ^______^ Loosely based on "Good Omens".
" On Proper Angelic Behaviour"
“A snowball fight! They’re awesome really. See, you scoop some of the snow,” the demon demonstrated to the nonplussed angel, “Roll it into a ball and throw!” The missile splashed through Heero’s hair. “And what, pray tell, is the point of this exercise?” he asked, scooping a handful of snow and staring at it. “Well, think about it: see this lady there? The one in the red coat? If you go to the mall today, you might manage to tempt her away from the crass commercialism, worship of false idols and all the small gods who crave attention. She will not have bought anything that could potentially ruin the souls of the three little children. So she’ll go back home and on Christmas Day there will be no presents under the tree – no dollies, no little funky cars and no teddy bear. Since you won’t be around anymore to make her feel good about remembering the true spirit of Christmas, she will feel guilty about having bought nothing for her kids. Meanwhile, the kids will be sniffling in the corners, cause they know that Christmas is about celebrating the family relationships and the Virgin Birth, only it’s hard to comprehend when you’re three and all you want from life is a teddy and some pudding. “So in the end you’ll be left with three sulking kids under the age of six, one guilty lady and a husband who just wants to relax, but can’t do so, 'cause his family is upset. Congratulations! You’ve just ruined Christmas for five people who are now ten percent more likely to be unhappy in later life and therefore to come over to the Dark Side. Your boss gets angry, because nothing interrupts the working of the celestial spheres like aggravation at Christmas, you get demoted and get called back into Heaven, which we both know you’ll hate.” Duo cocked his head to the side and beamed. “See? You’ll be better off, playing with me.” Heero stared at the snowball in Duo’s hand. He stared at the lady in red who was looking at a piece of paper, smiling. Then he looked at the snow in his hand. “I’m supposed to hit you with the snow?” “That’s the idea- Hey! No fair, throwing without warning!”
Stupid demon! Heero was not pacing. He was also most definitely not making hot chocolate. “Bloody stupid demon!” he muttered, giving a cabinet a solid kick. He regretted it immediately. He could feel pain, yes, but that wasn’t the issue. Kicking cabinets was not a proper angelic activity. Angels were composed, full of grace, and poise. Angels most certainly did not lounge in demon’s apartments, making chocolate. He wondered for the umpteenth time why hadn’t he miracled it into existence yet. Oh yes – bloody stupid demon had said he could taste the difference, and Heero’s miracle chocolate was not as good as hand made, with the old recipe Duo got from a chocolatier in Switzerland. What had he said, was it eighteenth century? Heero peered at the fragile piece of paper Duo had framed on his kitchen wall. Nineteenth. Recipe signed by Rudolf Sprüngli. Zurich, December 24, 1846. The nerve of that demon! Bothering people right before Christmas! Heero fumed for a few moments. He was distracted by a gentle glop from the stove. The chocolate started boiling. Heero extinguished the flames with a thought and fetched a couple of porcelain cups. Casting one last look at the recipe, he poured- but then again, poured was not the word. He encouraged the thick, lazy abomination, the sin in liquid form into the mugs. He needed to use a spoon and not a small helping of gravitational pull to make it work. Heero shuddered. He took the container of cream from the fridge and, whipping it with a glare, decorated each devilish drink with a dollop of an angelic whiteness. “Heero, hurry up! The movie is starting!” “Bloody demons,” Heero muttered, picking up
the mugs and carrying them to the spacious living room. Why the hell
the demon need such a lavish living environment for, Heero didn’t
know. It wasn’t like he lived! “Oh, chocolate!” Heero could hear the delighted emphasis dripping from the demon’s voice. He wordlessly handed over one mug and a teaspoon before seating himself on the soft couch and glaring at his companion. “This is highly inappropriate,” he said testily. “I shouldn’t be here, and since when can you catch a cold anyway? You are a demon.” Duo sneezed as if to disprove his supposed inability to contract a virus. “Human bodies, they are funny. It’s amazing how much thinking they do on their own.” “Bodies don’t think. The mind thinks.” Heero scooped a bit of his whipped cream onto his spoon and licked it clean. “Evidently, you haven’t been in tune with yours. Now shush, the movie’s starting.” Heero shushed and watched. The level of chocolate in his cup kept diminishing steadily. “This is preposterous!” he said after a while. “I really must protest.” “Quiet, Heero!” “But- this is inaccurate and offensive. Angels do not behave like that!” “Dunno I seem to recall Gabby throwing a hissy fit. Once, or twice. We’re talking thousands, obviously.” Heero sat up straighter. “Gabriel is an archangel. He has responsibilities-” “Gabby is a friggin’ drama queen.” Heero forced himself to remember what expression indicated that the wearer was scandalised. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You know it’s true.” Heero had to admit it was. Not verbally of course. He would never fall quite so low as to gripe about the Heavenly affairs to a demon, of all beings. “Now quiet and watch the movie.” Heero quieted and watched the movie. He’d be surprised to notice his hand making unplanned trips to the cup he was holding. His mind did register the desolate feeling when the teaspoon hit the porcelain bottom, but he’d attributed it to the atrocious portrayal of angels in the movie. Aside from that, he didn’t even notice the passing of time, until the closing credits rolled down the screen and then he blinked and found himself sprawled on the couch in a manner not befitting an angel. Most prominently featured in the Most Unlike an Angel Theatre was a demon, snuggled to his chest. Heero was ashamed to notice his wings spread out over the both of them, adding an addition layer of warmth, the kind that cannot be felt with the corporeal five senses. This was disgraceful. Demons, the denizens of the underworld, were the harbingers of misfortune and plague, definitely not a suitable company for an angel such as himself. It didn’t matter their human bodies were warm and soft, and had glossy hair. They were evil and… And… Heero closed his eyes and slept, breathing in the spicy not-quite-scent of Duo and the shining not-quite-warmth of his own wings. ~ * ~
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