I wrote this around ten one night, in bed, and it took me until almost half past two in the morning. Izraphael is so much more difficult than Aziraphale.

Disclaimer: If I actually owned the Silver City and Izraphael and Gadre'el, I'd be Someone who has a lot more things on His/Her plate to attend to than writing fanfiction.

This version of the Silver City, along with Saraquael, Carasel and Phanuel, (and the description in the first paragraph) belong to Neil Gaiman, and Izraphael and Gadre'el are simply my take on characters created by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.


Silver and Gold

The sky above the City was a wonderful thing. It was always light, although lit by no sun – lit, perhaps, by the City itself; but the quality of light was forever changing. Now pewter-coloured light, then brass, then a gentle gold, or a soft and quiet amethyst. Silver spires gleamed in the soft illumination.

Izraphael frowned as he gazed at the sky. Time was still a new concept, still being modified, but he was sure the other angel should have been here before now. He had just turned back to the table in the middle of his cell when there was a sweet-smelling breeze, a soft flutter of wings, and Gadre'el stood framed in the window. Izraphael turned, his blue eyes sparkling.

"You're late."

His dark-haired companion smiled back. "I'm sorry, I got a little distracted – Carasel's and Saraquael's latest project is very interesting. And I've brought you a prototype of my latest project, Plants."

Izraphael accepted it delightedly. In a little receptacle full of a strange brown substance grew a small, slender, pale green vertical object. Branching out horizontally at intervals were paper-thin, bright green pointy shapes. And at the very top bloomed a wondrous little thing. It was a deep, beautiful blue, and when Izraphael looked closer, he could smell a wonderful scent. He inhaled deeply.

"Gadre'el, this is beautiful!"

Gadre'el nodded, pointing to the blue thing. "This is called a flower. This is the stem, these are leaves, and it has something called roots, to keep it upright and take in nourishment, that are hidden in the soil, that's the brown substance." His face seemed to be lit up, but not with the usual inner light that made all angels seem to glow; no, Izraphael could see that this was something else entirely. "This project is wonderful, Izraphael! It makes use of so many of the new concepts, like the Colours and Smells, and Water and Soil. Jeliel says Plants will be really important. We'll test them out by placing some around the City, and that way the other angels can see them and give us suggestions as well."

"Oh." Izraphael nodded. As he held the plant out towards Gadre'el, his chest felt strangely heavy. "Where will you be putting this, then?"

Gadre'el pushed it back gently. "Keep this one. It's a, what did Belial call it? An object one being gives to another being he cares about, to keep?"

"A present? For me?" The heaviness in Izraphael's chest was replaced by warmth as Gadre'el nodded, smiling.

"Now, you wanted me to see your latest project?" Gadre'el quirked an eyebrow curiously.

Although designing, not testing, was their function, the two angels enjoyed trying out each other's, and occasionally other angels', projects in their spare time. Phanuel, the senior designer, had no objection, as long as they informed him of what they would try out beforehand so he could approve of it, and also informed him of their findings. They had even temporarily headed a team working on Dreams after Gadre'el had accidentally invented Boredom and Sleep while trying Meditation (Izraphael also had to submit a full report on the first-hand experience of Panic). Strangely, however, after quite a while Gadre'el had asked to be given a different assignment.

Izraphael led Gadre'el to the table, which was covered in papers full of notes, numbers and diagrams. Right in the centre sat two small, clear bowls filled with a viscous liquid. Still holding the plant in one hand, he handed one bowl to Gadre'el and took the other one himself.

The curve of the little bowl fit Gadre'el's palm perfectly. He looked closely. The thick liquid was a beautiful, clear gold colour, and it smelled wonderful. "It's beautiful," he said softly. "What is it?"

"It's the exact colour of your eyes," Izraphael murmured wonderingly. "I don't think I planned that. It's called Honey. You're supposed to consume it."

The dark-haired angel tentatively raised the bowl to his lips and took a sip. Izraphael watched in wonder as his eyes closed and his lips parted, a small sound escaping them. His inner light grew a little brighter.

It was the sweetest thing Gadre'el had ever tasted. It lingered in his mouth even after swallowing, overwhelming his senses. "Good?" Izraphael asked, and Gadre'el laughed at the understatement.

They leaned against the table, drinking in silence. Gadre'el gazed at the Hall of Being, just visible through the window, and Izraphael watched Gadre'el for any sign of adverse effects.* Gadre'el's pale, perfect, glowing androgynous face looked even more beautiful with the dim amethyst light playing over his features. A breeze was blowing, and Izraphael found himself wondering how the other angel's dark, windswept hair could still look so pleasing, while his own golden curls just looked messy. And Gadre'el's golden eyes, so like honey, could trap you, hold you, even when trained on something else. Izraphael's breath caught, and he forgot all else.

Gadre'el tipped the bowl up, his tongue catching the last drop, before placing it back on the table. He turned to look at the visibly glowing blond angel; Izraphael's blue eyes had a slightly dazed look, and a tempting drop of honey hung from the corner of his perfect lips, threatening to fall onto the table.

A new, strange coil of desire wound around Gadre'el's chest; he found himself leaning forward, irresistibly, inexorably, watching Izraphael's eyes widen, and capturing the drop with his lips. They gasped together.

Only a moment ago, Gadre'el had thought he was tasting the sweetest substance yet Created. He had been so wrong – this heady mixture of Izraphael and honey was causing a strange heat to flow through his very being, and he cried out at the sheer delight and wonder of it all.

Izraphael was only vaguely aware of pulling away, of placing the plant and bowl on the table. His senses seemed both strangely dull, when it came to everything else and extraordinarily sharp, somehow, when it came to Gadre'el; as he leant forward, all he could feel was soft lips against his once more, and his skin felt as though it would both burn and freeze where it touched Gadre'el's. He wound one hand into Gadre'el's hair, stroking and tugging, while the other buried itself in soft white plumage.

Gadre'el's hands found their way to Izraphael's back, to the base of his wings, pulling him closer so that their pale, smooth, sexless bodies were pressed together, the glow emanating from them illuminating every corner of the cell.

Izraphael's soul felt like it was expanding, floating, trying to break free of the constraints of his physical being and become part of the very aether, and only Gadre'el's lips, Gadre'el's taste, Gadre'el's touch were keeping him grounded, and he cried out into Gadre'el's mouth.

Slowly, they pulled back, trembling, still holding on to one another. Gadre'el pressed his mouth to the corners of Izraphael's lips, his cheeks, his nose and eyelids, reveling in the taste; sweeter than honey, it intoxicated him.

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?" Izraphael whispered. "You told me how you felt as though you were floating, like you were everywhere at once, when you dreamed. I felt like that too. Am I dreaming, Gadre'el?"

"No, Izraphael. You're not dreaming." And Gadre'el added, sounding surprised, "Neither am I." He laughed softly and pressed his lips against Izraphael's once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

* No, really. The first time Izraphael had seen Raphael at work was when Jophiel had wondered if lamp oil was consumable. And the subsequent times involved similar incidents, and often, similar angels.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


This is probably among the most explicit of what I have written. I always thought something like kissing would be more intense for angels, especially in their true form, but I certainly didn't mean to write this! It was supposed to be a sweet, soft, chaste kiss but apparently Izraphael and Gadre'el had other ideas. Gadre'el even sat on my shoulder and whispered of more elaboration, involving more honey and probably a hastily cleared table, but I put my foot down on that one. I DO NOT WRITE ANYTHING THAT ANYONE YOUNGER THAN 15 OR 16 SHOULDN'T READ. Anyway, I'm sure your imaginations are more than equal to what I could write. ;-P

It was very hard to write this because I actually visualised the whole thing first, a bit like Of Angels and Demons, and it was difficult to capture it in words, so I apologise if some bits sounded forced or dry. Anyway, I hope you liked it! (:

~ Sivaroobini