Title: Saving Grace
Pairings: take a guess.
Rating: T for suggestion of a lot of things.
Summary: You've gotten good at playing two sides of a coin; devil for the queen (of all evil of course) and god for your angel. Except you've never made a tree so you're not really sure where god fits in your title and red has always looked good on you.
Notes: So I agreed with my first reviewer and decided to add a second chapter to clear some things up. I started the first few lines thinking that's all the inspiration I'd get and this came out so enjoy.
You manage to get to the restaurant three minutes ahead of schedule, which for you is a feat in of itself. She's shooting daggers at you the second you walk in, but you find yourself not caring.
Before you can even sit down she's talking. Princess is spewing words like inconsiderate, unprepared, and maybe even underdressed, before you even reach the table. (Clinics aren't exactly places you wear tuxes to but five-star restaurants are. Crap.)
The rings digs into your chest as you reach up to kiss her on instinct and you pull back before she makes contact. (It isn't for her, and maybe heartbreak will be easier this way.) The confused look on her face fades to anger again and you've realized your mistake too late. (She's always been too damn suspicious.)
The like a band-aid mantra has been running on repeat in your head for a solid two hours so you take you own advice and open your mouth. Her face reveals the variety of emotions she's feeling as you being to talk. (You leave out bathrooms and car backseats and pink plus signs for your own safety.)
It's over before it even began just like your relationship and you're out the door and in your car before she gets her best-friend on the phone. (You really hope she's moved her stuff out of you apartment before you get back.)
You manage (barely) to get there before the procedure begins. It's useless to try and talk her out of it, you've tried, and so you instead kiss her on the head and tell her you'll see her when she gets out. (You're still kind of hoping she backs out anyway.)
She doesn't and she doesn't speak either. (After, or maybe before, because a life has just ended and times become irrelevant.) You take her home, to hers not yours, and she's sobbing before the click of the door even sounds. It's terrifying, watching some shatter in front of you, but you pull her into your arms and wait till she falls asleep to carry her upstairs. (You sleep on the chair next to her because a guy invading her space is how this all started in the first place.)
You have ten new voicemails when you finally find you cell phone (in the jacket of the coat that your (ex) angel gave you for an anniversary present, irony anyone) but you hit delete because you can't and won't deal with more then one issue at a time.
She comes down as you're finishing breakfast, hair wet regret tracing lines of agony across the face you once thought was impenetrable and you know you made the right choice.
It's like that the next few months. Points of healing marked by points of pain, (what's redemption without guilt) so you hold her close and pray for the first time in your life.
Two years later you're running late to a different restaurant with a different girl, ring in your pocket and directions in your hand.
(The Queen and her Devil always did have a better ring to it.)
Notes: So that's it, really this time. Review and enjoy.