Category: Darksiders I & II
Rating: M
Couples: Azrael/Abaddon
Warnings: AU, Disturbing Imagery
Chapter:19
Copyright: Characters & places © By Appropriate Copyright-holder, Plot & OC´s © by me
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Zeruch was meanwhile blissfully unaware of how close he had come to actually dying. He still adored Abaddon – well, rather: he worshipped Abaddon – which really made the General feel conflicted.
"You look almost constipated." Azrael pointed out, looking at the warrior opposite of him. Once again curled up on the General's lap was the little boy. This time, the young Nephilim had stolen Abaddon's fur to use as pillow. "You can just move him if you need to go to the toilet."
"That… is not the problem." Frowning, Abaddon was slowly petting the sleeping child. "And you know it."
Azrael chuckled. "You didn't mind before."
"That was before I knew what he was." The General leaned back a bit, looking at the boy on his lap. "Well, nothing much changed then, did it?" The scholar joined the other angel on the couch. Lifting the boy, he grinned when the child refused to let go of the fur. "He is still Zeruch, the little boy that hid under… both our robes at some point."
"It's a Nephilim." Abaddon snarled softly, at least remembering to lower his voice not to wake the boy.
"He is a child." The Gatekeeper countered, reaching for a blanket to wrap the boy into. "As you remembered when you decided not to stab him when you found out."
The warrior snorted lightly, looking away out of the window.
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"Ab?" Zeruch pulled on the cloth hanging down from the bulkier of his two caretakers. Azrael had insisted Abaddon watch the boy today as the Watcher once again had to attend his duties in the Well. And even if he could have, he was not about to bring a child there.
"Yes?" The warrior was slowly warming up to the boy again. Reluctantly, he had to admit Azrael had a point when stating that one could hardly blame the child for where he had been born. Besides, the boy still hid from strangers…
"Cans I play with sword again?" Holding Avis with one hand, Zeruch tried his best puppy-dog eyes.
It was quite effective, but so had been Azrael's threats if he let the boy touch a weapon again… "Alright, but don't tell Azrael." Though considering that mystic's uncanny ability to notice even a drop of guilt, that was probably useless regardless.
"Okay." The wide smile made the impending tirade seem worth it though. The young Nephilim slid his hand into the angel's, shifting the bird a bit.
"Come then." Abaddon rose from his seat, slowly heading outside. Plus, he got a break from the mountain of paperwork on his desk. For all his loyalty and devotion to the White City, there was simply too much paperwork involved in keeping it safe. Maybe he should pass some on to his Second? "You'll let Avis watch again?"
"Mmmhmmm…" The small head bobbed up and down, a wide smile peeking over the stuffed toy. "He has to know how to fights too."
"That he does, that he does…" The elder chuckled gently, leading his young charge to the armoire. "Just don't try to strap him into armor."
"Aaaawwww…" Zeruch pouted. "But he has to be protecteds too!"
The General found his resolve wavering. Surely there was no harm in letting the child have some fun? Azrael would murder him for this… "Well… Perhaps we can see if there is something for Avis too."
"YAY!"
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"Abaddon…" Azrael had more or less ambushed the General in said General's office.
"Yes?" The warrior did not like the tone of voice. "Shouldn't you be with Zeruch?"
"He's playing with Naya'il." The scholar moved over to the other angel. "Something funny happened though, so I thought I should visit you…"
"Oh?" The sitting angel got up, feeling like it might be prudent to put some distance between them.
"Yes…" Azrael crossed his arms. "You see… he and she decided to play warrior… It seems that he picked up some things when you took him to the barracks."
"Well, it's not like I could put him in my cabinet." The champion of the White City pointed out.
"Yes… no swords in there, are there?" Despite being several heads shorter, the mystic had worked the other quite effectively into a corner. Elegant runed wings spread from one side of the room to the other.
Abaddon meanwhile wondered how he was supposed to get out of it. "He asked." His voice sounded decidedly more meep-like than he would have liked.
"He is a five-year old…" The scholar snarled. "And you are supposed to be the responsible adult."
"You know how he gets." Exactly how undignified would it be for him to turn tail and flee his own office? Granted, he'd probably not get very far, but a viable attempt could still be made.
"Considering just two month ago you were considering killing him, I am surprised you'd give him a weapon." Azrael poked the General's chest.
"It was a wooden sword." Despite not feeling it as he was wearing armor, Abaddon still retreated from the poking finger. No good came from being near Azrael when he was angry.