Title: Wings of Satan
Author: Kataklezyma
Pairing: Leon x Luis, Luis x Leon
Rating: R
Warnings: angst, language
Summary: Because of Luis' experiences visiting back to his hometown, he joined a cult that supported nihilism. Leon wanted to know why.
Author's Notes: I don't know if I should continue this.

It is to the credit of human nature, that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates. Hatred, by a gradual and quiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change is impeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling of hostility.

- Nathaniel Hawthorne in the Scarlett Letter

"Leon? What the fuck?" I said, totally taken by surprise as soon as this blond agent brought himself in his presence. My heart stopped (or at least, it felt like it stopped) as he came in the room with his usual green shirt and shoulder holster as he walked around the table, swigging his hip. His facial expression told me that Leon seemed to have expected to see me.

I felt so belittled at that moment, because usually, I would scare the fuck out of the blond all the time with my disarranged visits during his missions. And now, the roles seemed to be reversed.

Leon settled himself against the wall, folding his arms and said quietly, "I don't believe what's in front of me right now, either."

"I feel sorry for you."

"What?"

"How are you doing, amigo?" I asked, trying to start with a small talk as if I haven't seen my 'friend' in a long time.

"I-I thought you were dead," he said haltingly. He gave a small evaluation of my figure by rolling his eyes up and down on me.

Our conversation was going nowhere. This little inquest had been intercepted too many times because there were so many questions and answers going through our heads. For me, it was hard to separate them. Being unable to connect with him, it troubled me.

"I thought I was dead too."

Silence.

Everything was so jarringly quiet. Our breathings seemed to be too loud for our liking. There was shuffling of clothes. Each movement Leon made bounced off the metal walls as echoes. I didn't bother to say anything.

He sighed and looked at me exceedingly, his gray eyes never leaving mine. That gaze gave me a powerful feeling of discretion. Here, I was in the white room, caught like a deer in the headlights and even after seeing a man I thought I would never see again, I still retained the power to decide or to say according to my judgment. Finally, he pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me.

"Why did you join the cult?" Leon asked as he lurked up behind me. The federals are into this? How pathetic. I thought. Pathetic.

"Oh, please," I told him half-piteously. I half-turned my head toward where I thought Leon would be. "That is the least of your worries."

"They didn't call me for nothing," Leon resorted. Suddenly, I jumped in my seat as both of his arms slammed onto the table at each side of me, producing a loud bang and trapped me. Then, I felt his breath near my ear. "I'm just doing the job, you bastard."

"What job?"

He didn't answer me. Instead he stilled…his mouth so close, I could feel the air brushing against my ears. His body was so close to me. I almost forgot and missed the warmth that was radiating off of him. I couldn't help but to shiver from the closeness.

"You cold?"

"No, perro."

Leon pulled away his arms too swiftly. Suddenly at the moment, something crashed on me. Panic almost flooded me. I felt an extreme loss for the kind of warmth that was embracing me just merely seconds ago. I wasn't certain why I felt that way. I felt as if my hope was crushed. That Leon would just walk away and never come back. Emptiness filled my blackened soul and I almost called the blond back desperately, wanting to feel him close to me again.

"Leon." I said. The plea in my voice didn't betray me. Did I miss him that badly? Or did I really want him to understand? Leon pulled a chair next to me and looked at me persuasively. I could see only one of his eyes. His other gorgeous eye was concealed by his rich, bleached blond strands. My heart clutched at the sight.

"Stop looking at me like that," I said to him, breaking the eye contact.

"Why?"

"I might pour my heart out to you. I don't like you," I muttered. The words were starting to come out crumbled and well not self-supportive. A growl came at the deep base of my throat with frustration. What do I want? What do I want to do? Tell?

"Well, you don't have to… amigo" Leon said, half-mockingly, half-heartedly.

"You think we're amigos?" I sneered, "just because I call you amigo?"

"Yeah, pretty much," that bastard was capable of smiling. "Would it be so wrong if I give my amigo a hug?"

I finally looked at him, incredulously.

"You know. You can't shake hands with a clenched fist."

To be honest, I was surprised that he wanted to be better friends and not to be bitter with each other. We never had personal problems with each other our paths were just too different with our careers on the line.

I leaned my upper body toward him as compliance. He placed his arm around me and pulled me in. I was too stiff from suspicion to kindly reply.

I knew the basic powerful way to connect to another person, making friend was to listen. Just listen. Perhaps the most important thing we ever could give is the attention- but a loving silence has far more power to heal and to connect than well-intentioned words. Ironically, I knew that and what I was thinking but never managed to carry out the principles. Leon was doing a lot better job than I.

Another excuse would be… I was too occupied with the warmth of another man. My heart leaped for joy for the briefest moment. Leon had placed his arm around my shoulder and arm but it was rather awkward since we were both sitting in our chairs.

"Why are you acting like this?" Leon said to me, his now stormy-blue eyes looking deeply into mine. I felt like a hopeless child. "I need to know you're real."

Real? That word got me stifling my laughter. I cracked a smile. "Like the bastard Jesus, I resurrected. I'm a savior. And a traitor."

"Why's that?"

What if your city is enriched with violence and chaos? Let me tell you about the city itself. It is anarchical. Drugs dealers, prostitutes, and hit men are at every corner. Sun never rises again. Killing is on a daily basis for survival and protection. They (the youth) are innocent and not innocent at the same time. Things are turning so badly that we're turning back to religious purposes instead of scientific purposes. The city is in the fury hands of God.

What if your society is twisted enough not to know the definition of good and evil? The definition of innocence or guiltiness. Would you be the only one who truly understands the conscience of right and wrong? That you'll know which is and which is not the work of Satan?

Leon had no idea what he was dealing with, even though like me, he had been doing this for years, hunting for the living dead. Cynical as he was, he would never understand anyone's experiences but his own.

"I feel sorry for the youth here…" I began, "Because they will never experience what I have experienced in my childhood. I won't let them rob or even share my good memories of Madrid. There was on the outskirts of Madrid, a quiet and peaceful village called Sabaneta. I knew that because near there, on one side of the road coming from Envigado, in the midway between the two villages, was where my childhood took place... Of course I knew. It was near the lake, the beyond the world."

"Sounds like a better home than where I grew up," Leon said, urging me to go on to the point. I wondered if he would get tired of this kind of games with other captives and today's full of shit.

"Further on there was nothing. The world started to veer off. Despite its look of loneliness, it is the best place to go…The city is responsible for seeping the darkness and the waves of death. All of my family members are dead." I said, succeeding to keep my tone monotonous as I recalled finding corpses in the house. I went out into Europe, finding my vengeance but of course, I never found one. For seven years, Europe suffered so much inner wars and bloodshed.

"Well, Luis, I'm sorry to hear that but—"

"No, you are not, gringo." Once again, I interrupted him. I told him how angry I was. I told him how I felt about joining the forces with the Madrid police department. I told him that, after quitting the forces, I went to study bioengineering, hoping that the planet will still breathe life. But there was no hope left for me.

After these years, it turned out to be a total opposite of what the village had been before since I left. Left to join the forces, that is. A badge meant nothing to me. The real purpose was to protect my city from the impending disaster. Then eventually, the city was bombarded with the contagious disease and the defense couldn't last long. It was like barbarians coming through, plundering of the city's long-lost harmony.

Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I was wrong. When I returned, there was a lot more than just living dead. There were the living (of course), the dead, living dead, assassins, vagrants, and more. The buildings rested completely in ruins. There were no longer flowers or gardens with graceful fragrances.

The vagrants had a quite collection of artillery. I bet they barged into gun shops in the midst of riots and stole some. Maybe they collected pistols from dead bodies on the street. Who knows but I met some imbeciles that kept wandering, wasting ammos on the way when it wasn't really necessary. Most of them were teenagers.

Just because there were some humans around didn't mean they were friendly. In fact, they were greedy about everything which, of course, was completely understandable. At least for me. I wouldn't share my bed, my goods, or weapons with anyone when this city was a Satan's playground. The longer I stayed in the city, wandering around to collect my memories, the more interesting stories I gathered.

"Leon. Leon," I whispered after a new thought appeared in my head. A thought that perhaps would give Leon all the answers he needed. Leon's eyes shone with curiosity as I continued on.

"I met a beautiful blond youth named Angelito Valesco, which was by the way looked like you," I added and Leon blushed a little, "he happened to bump into me in this battered St. Jude cathedral. He looked at me and smiled like I was the most interesting piece in his life. He couldn't be any older than seventeen. He asked me a question. 'Is humanity the universal need for pure existence?' I was surprised that Angelito even learned how to speak Spanish." Most morons around spoke jargon. For example, he would say, 'that asshole should've hand over the keys to the cunt so that they wouldn't blast at each other.'

"He looked at me with these hazelish eyes and I was unable to answer him. So he lifted his wrist where I could see the tattoo there. It was of a pair of wings. The kind of wings that would grow on demons or satan."

"Wings of Satan," Leon alleged.

"And he said… very seriously, 'They will kill anything. It doesn't matter anymore.'

What he said was so simple and it was with his epitaph I adored."

"But, Luis. You killed too many people," Leon said, acutely.

"Whatever. I have no excuse for what I did. I was merely out of state."

"Out of state?"

"No hope. My life's that fucked."

"You just can't just join a cult and kill everyone if your life is fucked."

"Not everyone, burro. I didn't kill anyone until Angelito killed one in front of me. Some bastard was blasting his music too loud in the apartment building. He had been doing it for days. I came up to his door and asked him nicely to turn it down. He didn't listen. I told Angelito, 'Whatever he is, I'd like to kill that bastard.' You know what he said? He said, 'I'd waste him for you.' He barged in and killed that son of a bitch with his chargón instead of his typical Beretta."

"So? What did you do?" Leon asked.

"At first, I was appalled by his behavior. He acted like this was completely normal. I asked why the hell did you kill him. 'Serves the dick-head right. I thought you wanted him dead,' he replied.

"I said that it was just a mean thought. If we killed everyone we kill in our heads, life would be a sweet butchery.' Then we just... I FUCKING realized it was completely true." I swallowed, not comfortable telling him about the fact that we were in love also. "I was just trying to survive this hellhole, okay?"

Getting frustrated from trying to be understood. Corpses and blood ran through my mind, filling me with guilt. I desperately wanted to deny it all… that "I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!" I shouted, "I don't have anything. My family's gone. The innocents are being infected with man-made viruses…teenagers are fucking around with weapons. Killing is normal. I don't see the water than used to run from the – PFFT! I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!"

FUCK.

FUCK.

FUCK!

"Okay," Leon said so quietly. He had one arm propped up to run his fingers through his silky-looking hair. "So basically, Wings of Satan is a cult of nihilists or annihilators. I have heard of this before but never really asked what they do. Ruthless and have no heart. They will kill as many as they can. The planet should be dead and so on… just to get over with…"

My mind started to drift away, thinking about the dilapidated roads that represented my old life and the killings. Even though, my voice was dropped to a whispering level and there was more broken silence, I knew Leon was listening to me carefully. Staring into the empty vastness of thoughts, I could feel his face close to me.

"When you create… chaos," I frowned, thinking as if I was thinking too hard. "Ideas are turned upside down, and everyone looks at things in a different way."

Finally when I made clear of that account, I looked over to Leon. He still had that curious, caring face on. I wanted to wipe the fuck of that pity off his face but anything wouldn't work. I noticed as he bit his lovely pumped lips, moving his head to think about something. I gave him time. He gave me the gorgeous profile of his face.

His face was perfect and had a perfect structured nose, mouth, and jaws. I wanted to lay wet kisses along that jawline. Angelito was a short-lived lover of mine, you know. And guess what, he was killed. Of course. I wasn't surprised.

"That is true," Leon said quietly, looking back to me with strands in his face. I couldn't resist anymore. I lifted my hand and brushed away some of his strands. For a moment there, I saw him wince a few times from my gesture. Slowly, my hand placed the hair behind his (pierced!) ear and moved to the back of his neck. I pulled him in and hugged him. I thought about kissing him but just when I leaned over, my thumping heart had me to move in fear of rejection.

Instead, I got off the chair and buried my face into the sturdy shoulder of the blond. My arms that wound up around his waist pulled at him, hinting him to do the same. Leon stood up and fully embraced me, wrapping his confined arms around my neck.

'Thanks," I said, reluctantly pulling back. Leon gave me his inquisitive facial expression. His head was slightly down but his eyes were fixed on me the whole time. What was it about me that kept that warm gaze? "For listening and everything," I said even though there was no feeling of any accomplishments. Vaguely, I noticed Leon leaned closer and closer. "But even after getting shit out of my chest, I still don't feel I made any point… now you know why I joined the cult but there is no use to—"

Abruptly my statement was cut off by a move performed that had me stop breathing and moving. I was too appalled to respond back when the blond placed his lips on mine. He planted a few wet kisses on me before pulling back to look at me. What the hell was that? I thought, reprocessing that through my head over and over again.

"Did you do that… to just shut me up?"

Leon smiled.

I could smell his shampoo, and the mix of gun powder and spice. God he was so beautiful. I felt like I didn't deserve this at all. I decided to voice it out, "You're so… bello. I don't deserve you…"

Leon just rolled his pretty eyes and leaned over once again claiming my lips. I couldn't believe he would act this casual. I couldn't believe the fact that my lips were on his. Especially when Lean seemed to express similar interest long enough. The way his stormy blues surveyed me, the way he spoke, and the way that slender mouth was probing on mine.

Jesus, is he even thinking straight? I'm the suspected here. It was surreal.

Solely, I praised this moment doing the same, kissing him tenderly until he would give me some kind of a hint that he'd want rougher. Slowly, while doing just that, I lowered my hand between his wide spread legs that were typically in a manly manner on the chair, creeping up his thigh.

I heard his breathing growing shallower. "Luis," he said my name ushered.

"Si?" I said, never losing my Spanish touché.

Author's Notes: (perro bitch) (burro- idiot) (gringo- stupid american) (chargón- sawn-off shotgun) I'm so tired. My brain is fried… I'll try to finish this in one chapter someday.