Considering they both want the flesh and blood world to keep spinning, they really should be more careful with their own flesh. Since they enjoy it so much.
Their bodies are made to destroy each other, and sometimes it feels like that's exactly what they're doing. Burning sparks behind the eyes. Feathers' brush sharp like teeth, like hooks. Bodies melting into each other like lava or stars, the heat of the underearth or of space, of hell or of sky. Flurried steam and hurtling collisions and the dissolution of things that used to have shape.
They are not the same when it is over. They are more dangerous, each, but more endangered.
The worst danger is their own ideas, whispered to each other. Ideas, they know, are just lies that haven't been proved false yet. But they each light a lie in the other's mind, and then the demon schemes against the devil and the angel schemes against the vessel, and their lies seem like such good plans when their bodies are pressed against each other, searing into each other's flesh, as they brand each other with all the wrong things and the right things they have ever done.. They make their vows to grip this fleshy world as hard as they can until their fingers fall away, they vow to betray their angelic and demonic natures, each convincing the other, and they believe they can do it.
They are fighting for the petty vulgarity of the flesh, for the things of the earth they might enjoy, that they maybe could have enjoyed if their lies didn't pull them so forcefully down, if the idea of flesh didn't sink its teeth into them until they are dragged into shreds of something lost, something glittering and painful, flickering in the abyss.
In the end, there will not be enough of them left to wonder if they should regret it.
Author's note: Originally for a prompt at comment_fic on lj