In Which Boredom Affects Everyone, Angel and Demon
Without much ado, Atobe had dropped Ryoma off at his room with an order to get some rest, you look like you're about to fall over.
Ryoma must have been more tired than he expected, because he fell asleep as soon as he hit the covers and woke up hours later. The room was darkened, and Ryoma had to stumble up out of bed to find the light switch. He couldn't tell how late it was, or if it was even nearing morning; outside, it was as dark as his room was.
Finally, his searching fingers found the switch, and Ryoma found his room to be relatively large and plainly decorated. Ryoma sat back down on the bed, still feeling a bit tired despite the sleep he'd gained. Rubbing his eyes, he noticed his covers with a frown. Who had picked such an ugly shade of purple for the bed? "Angels." Ryoma rolled his eyes.
His stomach growled, and Ryoma realized he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. He got up, and also noticed with dismay that he was pretty grimy all over. There was some kind of white sticky residue from the portal, and dirt and slight bloodstains from the scuffle with the guards earlier. The combination made Ryoma itch in a few places, and so he went to the connecting bathroom to take a shower before finding something to eat.
Surprisingly, there was a bath drawn and ready in the tub, and Ryoma remembered the angel lord from before had ordered one to be made for him. 'But how did it stay hot till now?' Ryoma noted the steam rising from the water. Shrugging, (hey, a bath was a bath), Ryoma stripped off his grimy clothes and slipped into the tub. He hissed as the water was still (somehow) piping hot, but as he gradually got used to the heat, and scrubbed himself clean. The warmth of the water moved into his bones, and all too soon, Ryoma was in a state of utter relaxation.
So, no one could really blame him when he fell asleep like that; again, he must have been more tired than he thought.
The second time Ryoma woke up, it was to an odd feeling that he was being watched. Ryoma opened his eyes, realized he must have fallen asleep in the tub, and turned his head.
Next to the tub was an angel.
"Well, this wasn't what I was expecting when Atobe said we had an important guest to escort, but," and here an unholy smile (not unlike Fuji-senpai's, Ryoma realized with a sinking feeling) spread across the angel's lips, "it's very nice view, nonetheless," the angel said lasciviously. Ryoma's eyes followed the angel's gaze to his body, and his mouth dropped in horror as he realized the bubbles from the body wash had dissipated, leaving the water clear. Automatically, Ryoma brought his knees and wrapped his wings tight around his whole form. "Pervert!" he spat.
The angel sniffed. "How rude. It's not as if we were the ones to ignore our knocking, and let us walk in on you in the bathtub."
"What 'we', Mizuki-san? I'm pretty sure he was calling you the pervert," came the disgruntled reply from another angel behind Mizuki, leaning against the door. His face was red and resolutely turned away from Ryoma's form. At least there was one angel that wasn't a pervert like this Mizuki, Ryoma thought to himself.
Ryoma sighed, and snapped, "Well, are you angels going to get out and let me dress?"
"Touchy, touchy," Mizuki tittered, but the two angels calmly trooped out of the bathroom. The other angel was even polite enough to carefully close the door behind them.
Ryoma got out of the water and reached for the towel rack, shivering. The water had long since gone cold; Ryoma must have been asleep for hours. Drying himself off, Ryoma realized with chagrin that he had forgotten to bring in any clothes, but that was because there hadn't been anything to wear in the room. Somehow, (though Ryoma suspected the two angels that appeared), his dirty clothes from before had disappeared too.
Grimacing, Ryoma listened to the sounds of movement from the other room, hoping the two angels would leave before Ryoma came out of the bathroom. He really didn't want to prance around naked in front of the angels; the demon was already feeling vulnerable enough. How stupid had he been to fall asleep in the tub! With agitation, and growing impatience, Ryoma fluttered the damp dark wings behind him.
Amazingly though, there was a click of the front door, and then silence. Ryoma pressed his ear against the bathroom door, wondering if the angels really had left the room. They had been talking pretty loudly before, and although he hadn't been able to make out what they were talking about, they had seemed to be bickering. Now, their voices were gone, and the room on the other side of the door was silent.
Ryoma cracked open the door, the towel he'd used wrapped tight around his body. He didn't see anyone. With relief, Ryoma opened the door the whole way, and almost shut the door again at who he saw sitting on the bed.
It was Atobe, lounged almost imperiously against the pillows.
Ryoma scowled. "What are you doing here?" he said.
"My father owns this tower, so you should probably treat your host with more respect," Atobe replied. Either he didn't notice Ryoma's lack of clothing, or he didn't care, because his arrogant eyes strayed no farther than his face.
"Hnn," Ryoma said, and awkwardly stood at the bathroom door, unwilling to walk into the room with Atobe in it.
If he had looked closely though, he might have noticed that Atobe looked just as uncomfortable to be there.
"Are you hungry?" Atobe asked.
As if on cue, Ryoma's stomach whined, and he reddened, looking down at it in betrayal.
Atobe smirked and stood up. "Well then, Ore-sama will wait for you outside. Come out when you are decent."
He left behind him on the bed clean clothes in Ryoma's size.
Outside the demon's room, Yuuta asked, "Will he come to breakfast then, Atobe-san?"
"Yes, he is changing right now."
"He is quite a delectable little boy, isn't he? Just my type," Mizuki mused, tapping at his chin with a finger as he thought back to the vision of Ryoma in the tub.
Atobe glared, making both lesser angels flinch. "You forget, he is still a demon, 'delectable' or not, and he is an official guest of Heaven. You will not touch him," Atobe ordered frostily.
"Yes, Lord Atobe," both Mizuki and Yuuta intoned, although Yuuta subtly kicked Mizuki in the leg.
Atobe's sudden anger diffused, and he lamented, "I am surrounded by commoners." Inside though, an image of Ryoma's scantily clad form flashed across his eyes. Even for someone with impeccable manners like Atobe couldn't fail to notice how Ryoma's collarbones stuck out and how the rest of his body was all pale, smooth skin.
'What am I thinking of? Get a hold of yourself! Only lesser angels would be so distracted by a pretty body,' and Atobe forced the image away.
When Ryoma slipped out of the room, dressed in the traditional angel styled simple tunic and pants, his wings damp and folded against his back, Atobe led him to the dining hall for breakfast. He talked as they walked; Atobe in the lead, Ryoma behind him, and the two other angels in the very back.
"These two are Mizuki Hajime and Fuji Yuuta, your two angelguards and guides," Ryoma glanced back and realized for the first time that both of the angels were armed, "They will be with you at all times during your stay in Heaven for your protection and comfort. As you probably already know, this is the sixth tower of the Council, known as the Atobe Tower, or otherwise known as the Violet Tower. For your own safety, you are not to leave the Tower at any time since the angel population doesn't know of your arrival yet. Usually, a demonguest is announced at least a few weeks before their arrival. You," Atobe glanced at Ryoma, "...were a bit of a surprise."
"I'll bet," Ryoma said blandly.
Atobe continued, "My father is away at the annual Assembly and will be returning in a few short days. The Assembly is too important to cancel, so it has been ordered that your visit be kept quiet until the Council is ready to make a decision on your situation." Atobe went on to explain the places Ryoma was allowed to roam, when mealtimes would be and so on, but Ryoma quickly lost interest after that and let Atobe's voice fade into the background.
Before too long, Atobe was demanding, "Are you even listening to Ore-sama?"
Ryoma snapped back to attention with an intelligent, "Huh?"
Atobe raised his eyes to the ceiling in the universal prayer for patience.
"Enough, maybe you will focus better with food in your stomach," Atobe decided.
Ryoma's stomach rumbled at the mention of food, and he quickly glanced up to see if Atobe heard it. Thankfully, it seemed the angel hadn't. Ryoma held his hand to his stomach and silently begged it to stay quiet until they got to the food.
Unnoticed, Atobe let a small smirk touch his mouth.
The Violet Tower was a place where angels lived and worked day and night. It was gigantic, two hundred stories high (with four stories below ground), and far enough across that if an angel tried to run straight along its diameter they would run out of breath before reaching the other side.
Ryoma was pleased to note that it wasn't as large as the palace at home, close, but still not there yet.
"Mada mada dane," Ryoma whispered, his breath making the window fog up. The window was small, not even large enough to fly through, so Ryoma felt like he was in a jail cell.
Ryoma, hearing the bickering outside his room, figured he might as well have been in a jail cell. He wasn't allowed to do anything, and he was constantly under watch by his two "bodyguards". Ryoma knew what they were really assigned to do; they were watching him to make sure he didn't do anything suspicious while in their angeltower.
As if he could really cause much damage by himself.
Ryoma had been left to himself for two days, and his two guards had followed him anytime he went anywhere else. Ryoma was bored, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was lonely as well. He had always been surrounded by either friends or family at home, whether he liked it or not. Here, Ryoma had no one. The purple angelguard always made perverted remarks when he was around. The younger-looking one with the bad scar just ignored Ryoma, like talking to a demon would corrupt him or something. At least he had intelligent conversation with Atobe, as haughty as the angel lord was, but Atobe hadn't even eaten breakfast with him a couple days ago. He just laid down rules, dropped him off at the dining hall and left. Ryoma hadn't seen him since.
Not that he missed him or anything.
Ryoma also needed to find a way to Earth quickly, preferably before this so called angel Council showed up. They would probably ask more pesky questions.
Ryoma eyed the window speculatively.
It really was too small for anyone to pass through, but Ryoma had always been small for his age….
"Mizuki-san, you really should be more serious about this," Yuuta said, holding his head.
"What? I'm just showing you the full scope of my outfit. I spent hours arranging it myself, isn't it just fabulous?" Mizuki said with a twirl, purple sequins flowed in the air behind him. Yuuta didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Sometimes, he was sure that the only reason Atobe hired Mizuki was because of his fondness for anything in the Atobe colors.
"This shirt alone cost over a hundred silvers," Mizuki complained, "The threading came from the Rikkai region, absolutely exquisite."
"Mmhm," Yuuta nodded absently. He was already retreating into his happy place.
"See, the pants? I already have some black pants at home, but I didn't have this shade of black, blue onyx they called it." Speaking of black, Yuuta wondered what the demon was doing at that moment. He had spent the last couple days cooped up in his room, not that there was anywhere else to go since he was restricted to this floor.
Yuuta wondered if he was bored. The boy had talked a little, questions mostly, which Yuuta had pushed over to Mizuki-san. For his own part, he was at a loss at what to say around the boy. The boy…no, Ryoma, wasn't like any demon Yuuta had read about in school. In their textbooks, they had learned that demons were mischief-loving troublemakers, and while not exactly evil, they weren't good-hearted either. They pillaged and plundered and wrought all kinds of havoc for no good reason.
Ryoma was quiet. He said little, and what little he said was snarky. He kept to himself, and watched everyone and everything with observant eyes, except in the mornings when he just woke up and he wandered out of his room rubbing at his eyes like a child. Yuuta stifled a smile as he remembered the heavy-lidded eyes and the drowsy snap at Mizuki-san that morning when Mizuki-san had tried to molest him again. Mizuki-san did try to molest their demonguest often.
Yuuta frowned at the other angel. "Mizuki-san…," Yuuta said, making him look up from his rambling, "If you go out on another date, could you refrain from touching the demon?"
Mizuki smirked. "Perhaps," he said, "Does it really bother you that much, Yuuta-kun? If you're feeling jealous, I could touch you too."
Yuuta gagged. "No, thank you, Mizuki-san!"
Mizuki pouted. "You're no fun."
"Please restrain yourself a little," Yuuta said with a sigh, "I can see that it makes our demonguest uncomfortable. He's still a child after all."
"Fine," Mizuki acceded with a sniff, "But that means I'll be gone for the rest of the day and night until tomorrow!"
Yuuta grimaced at the thought of another sleepless night, but said, "Deal. Have fun on your date, Mizuki-san."
Mizuki smiled. "Oh, I will. There's this absolutely lovely restaurant that we're going to tonight, and afterwards, with a few chocolates and wine…." This was about the moment that Yuuta plugged up his ears and stopped listening completely.
Mukahi Gakuto leaned back in his chair, making it tip precariously. It was one of those lucky days that they didn't have lessons, as their tutor had come down with a cold, but unfortunately, there was nothing to do. Since Atobe's father was at the Assembly, Atobe was stuck holding down the tower, so they couldn't even travel to Earth for fun, not that traveling to Earth was allowed, but Hyotei brats always got away with it. Everyone in Hyotei who was anybody had snuck into Earth at least once, and Gakuto could still remember the first time he had gone to the strange realm. No one there had any wings so he had had to hide his wings to blend in. The food had also been strange too, but it was tasty, and wonderfully varied.
Thinking of Earth food always made Gakuto crave sweet things, so he asked the angel sitting beside him, "Hey, Yuushi, you got anything sweet?"
Oshitari Yuushi, his partner in crime since they were Hyotei students together, dutifully pulled out a lollipop from his pocket without taking his eyes away from his book.
"Thanks, Yuushi!" Gakuto beamed as he took the lollipop and promptly stuck it in his mouth. "I'm bored to tears. Can't we do something?"
"Do what? Think up something first before asking us to entertain you," said Shishido, already grumpy since Ohtori was out finishing errands with Hiyoshi. He was pretty boring these days because he couldn't seem to do anything without Ohtori there, and even with the younger angel around he turned into a big softie and they made goo goo eyes at each other like no other! Gakuto hoped he never acted like that when he got in a relationship, although they profusely denied they were in any kind of romantic relationship. Bah, Gakuto had eyes, and anyone could see that those two would end up with each other one way or another.
Although for the moment, they were just very sickening.
"Don't be pissy at me just 'cause Ohtori's out and about without you," Gakuto drawled around his lollipop.
Shishido flushed. "Why you!"
"Hmph," Gakuto sniffed and turned his attention back to Yuushi. "Yuushi, why are you reading? We don't have lessons today," Gakuto whined.
"It's not that kind of reading, Gakuto, and there's not much else to do anyways. Not this close to the Assembly, at least," Oshitari replied over his book.
"Ugh, there must be something to do! Where's Jirou anyway?" Gakuto could at least find entertainment in playing with their sleepiest friend if nothing else.
"He's sleeping in, of course."
"If you are so bored, Mukahi, go fly around the Tower a few times," Atobe said suddenly from his seat beside the window a little ways away. The other angels looked over at Atobe in surprise.
"Well, what do you know? He's alive," Shishido said.
Atobe looked slightly affronted. "What are you going on about?"
"You realize this is the first time today that you've said a full sentence?" Oshitari said as he finally put down his book. "You didn't even bother to admire your reflection earlier when those maids passed by with the new mirror for the bathroom."
"The one we broke?" Shishido muttered to Gakuto, who shook his head and raised a finger to his lips.
"I've been contemplating," Atobe said.
"Really?"
Gakuto laughed. "Contemplating what? Your new haircut?"
Atobe gave him a chill look. "Mukahi, fifty laps around the tower."
Gakuto shrieked, "What! You can't do that! We're not at school anymore!"
"Seventy," Atobe said unforgivingly.
"You—!"
Oshitari tittered. "Calm down, the both of you. Gakuto, stop pestering Atobe unless you want him to make you fly laps around the entire city like last time," Gakuto gulped and shied away, "Atobe, what have you been contemplating so severely all day? No, actually, you've been awfully preoccupied yesterday as well. This wouldn't have anything to do with our special guest would it?" Oshitari asked, the sunlight from the window flashing off his glasses and hiding his eyes at the last part. Everyone suspected he did that on purpose just to look mysterious.
"Not exactly," Atobe said shortly, not willing to say too much. In truth, he was thinking about the demon and his father; his deal with the former, his fight with the latter, and overall if he had made the right choices the past few days.
Oshitari, having known Atobe for a while, and having been present for all the events that had taken place that week, had a good idea of what Atobe was thinking about. Atobe had told him earlier how the demon had invoked the Old Law of sanctuary, which was very clever since Atobe had always had a respect for the ancient laws, even if they weren't practiced much in Heaven anymore. Heaven had become more modernized since the God and Lucifer had disappeared, some thought to Earth.
"You know he is a demonguest," Oshitari pointed out, "You can visit him whenever you want."
Atobe frowned. "Why on Heaven would I want to visit him?"
"Well, you're curious aren't you? I would be. It's not as if we often get such a chance to talk to a demon face to face, especially one that's close in age to us," Oshitari said.
"He's just a child," Atobe said, and then felt the thoughtlessness of his answer. Looking up, he found Yuushi's eyes gleaming at him in humor. Infuriating angel, Atobe thought as his eyes narrowed.
"If you're not going to see him, why don't you let us, huh?" Mukahi said eagerly, as he hadn't actually talked to a demon before neither. He had seen the demonking before a few times, but only from a distance. "We could ask him what Hell is like, and what other demons are like, and if they actually eat their own offspring like in that one movie."
Shishido's eyes lit up. "The movie from Earth right? With that demon princess in leather?"
"Careful, I wouldn't mention that around Ohtori," Mukahi teased.
"Shut up, redhead," Shishido said, but his eyes flashed up to the door just in case Choutarou walked in. Ohtori Choutarou grew up in a very strict family, so he was always wary about rule-breaking, which wasn't a good thing when they were constantly surrounded by rich upper level angels with little to no respect for the rules, cough-Atobe-cough. Plane-hopping was one of their activities that Choutarou often avoided.
With a patient smile, Oshitari said, "They don't actually eat their own offspring, Gakuto, that was just in the movie. That, and I doubt the demon will tell us too much about his realm, because they're always rather touchy with information."
"How do you know?" Gakuto retorted for the sake of arguing.
"Well, the demonking spoke very little of Hell, have you noticed? The times he's been here, he made sure to say only a few repeated descriptions. For all we know, Hell might really be as flaming hot with constantly active volcanoes as the books say," said Oshitari.
"Or it might be a winter wonderland," Shishido countered.
"Precisely."
"Well, Atobe? How about it, can we see him?" Mukahi demanded, impatient for something interesting to replace the day's stifling boredom.
Atobe opened his mouth, and then closed it to take in the expecting and hopeful eyes of the group; even Oshitari looked interested by the prospect of speaking to a real demon. He had been about to refuse, but…
"Maybe later," Atobe allowed. Immediately, Mukahi started whining and Shishido backed him up.
Oshitari returned to his book, a hint of a smile gracing his face. Later for Atobe meant later; in other words, he had just given them permission to see the demon boy in due time.
Oshitari couldn't wait.
Meanwhile, Akutagawa Jirou was still fast asleep out on the balcony, where he had set up camp the night before with his blankets and his bear Kuma-chan. Keigo told him not to sleep outside, but what was the use of this nice balcony if he didn't use it?
In his dreams, Jirou was with his family up in the high mountains that edged the Hyotei region. Despite the chill, Jirou had always been able to fall asleep outside, and usually he lost himself in a snow drift. Jirou had always loved their winter home the best; it was even better than their hot spring summer home. Currently, his mother was forcing wing warmers on his younger sister so they didn't freeze outside. She shouldn't have taken a shower and gotten them wet before they went out, but what was done was done, and Jirou laughed and went over to help his mother persuade the warmers on her. His older brother was already outside and waiting with their father. They argued about something, they were always arguing, and Jirou could hear them getting louder. Why did everyone argue so much, Jirou sighed to himself. Keigo was always arguing with his father too. Keigo…Jirou frowned, was he forgetting something?
"Up!" Jirou looked down, and saw his younger sister raise her arms toward him. "Up!" she cried again. Smiling, Jirou reached down to pick her up, but the youngster rambunctiously jumped into his arms, her wings flapping furiously. "Woah!" Jirou exclaimed, surprised because his sister was a lot heavier than he remembered, and the breath was knocked out of his lungs. She was so heavy! Jirou really couldn't breathe.
His little sister groaned, voice much deeper than he remembered too. Jirou coughed, trying to get his breath back.
Then, he opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw were the black feathers, so black they seemed to suck the light out of the air. They looked temptingly soft, like velvet, so Jirou's first thought was to touch them. Then, Jirou realized that not all the black was feathers, but some hair as well, hair that was attached in soft tufts to a small head, a small head that was attached to a young boy, a young boy that was on top of him. It took a few blinks for Jirous's sleep-ridden eyes to open fully and comprehend what he was seeing.
The demon groaned again and raised his head off Jirou's chest, and his dazed amber eyes rolled around before focusing on Jirou.
Jirou wiggled his fingers, and said cheerfully, "Hello."
Three things Ryoma learned about Akutagawa Jirou: first, he was easily amused.
"Wow, they're sooooo black," Jirou wondered over the black wing in his hands. Ryoma tried not to twitch and send the wing in his face, even though Jirou's roaming fingers tickled.
Second, Jirou was easily excited.
Jirou hadn't stopped bouncing since Ryoma had told him he was a demon from Hell. "Does that mean you have dragons and monsters and stuff?" Jirou said like a kid in a candy store asking for lollipops.
Ryoma's eyebrow twitched. "Dragons yes, monsters no," he said shortly. Wait for it.
Jirou exploded, "Coooool!" Ryoma sighed.
Third, Jirou was easily drowsed.
The demon couldn't believe it, the angel had fallen asleep on him again! Ryoma pushed Jirou's snoring face away from his ear, but the angel was too heavy to completely push off. Jirou mumbled something unintelligible and drooled a bit on Ryoma's shirt.
Lovely. Ryoma pouted.
Since Jirou-san had found him some snacks earlier from the kitchen, Ryoma wasn't hungry for dinner and skipped it. Unfortunately, the results of him skipping dinner left him hungry and grumpy sometime late that night.
Stomach growling, Ryoma finally gave up on sleep and sat up in bed. He glanced over at the window and wondered whether he should ask Jirou-san for more food. Nah, climbing out the tiny window had been scary enough. There were no good handholds anywhere outside the window, so Ryoma had a hard time not falling with his wings under his shirt. He was smart enough not to go flying out with black wings and expect the angels not to notice. He was lucky enough that no one spotted him climbing out his window. After he had squeezed out, he had attempted to climb up by stepping on the narrow window frame, but he forgot about how strong the winds would be so high up the building and ended up slipping and falling right on top of Jirou, who was sleeping on his balcony the floor below. He had been lucky then. Now that it was dark outside and the winds were probably stronger, Ryoma didn't want to take the chance.
Sighing, Ryoma decided to just ask his guards for food. They wouldn't be happy, but they stayed awake all night anyways. Ryoma had learned that the hard way when he tried to escape a night ago.
The demon opened the door. He didn't see anyone outside.
"Wha—?" Ryoma stepped out and jumped when something beside him moved. It was the young looking angelguard, slumped over and fast asleep next to the doorway. His head had tilted to the side in his sleep when Ryoma walked out. Ryoma bent over the angel, and waved a hand in front of his face. The soft, shallow breaths continued uninterrupted.
Ryoma grinned, and silent as a ghost, he closed the door behind him and slipped away.
Earlier, Jirou-san had gotten him some food from the kitchen using a box called the elevator. Ryoma hadn't actually ridden it himself, but he knew where it was and what the code to use it was, courtesy of Jirou-san. "It's only supposed to be used by a few angels, but just in case, now you can use it," Jirou said with a wink. Ryoma found the elevator, and got on with a silent thanks to Jirou-san. He wouldn't waste this opportunity to explore for the portal, but he needed to get some food first. This late at night, no one should be near the kitchens. Just in case though, Ryoma tucked his wings under his shirt and folded them against his back. He even pulled his pants over the loose tail ends so they didn't stick out.
Riding the elevator was a strange experience to say the least. He didn't know where the angels got an idea for a large metal box that floated between floors; frankly, he preferred the flywell because the box's vertigo made him a little nauseous. Getting off at the floor Jirou had specified, Ryoma breathed a huge sigh of relief that he hadn't died in the metal trap. He was sure that any moment the box would fall with him trapped inside it.
The floor he had gotten off at was up near the top of the tower, farther up than his or Jirou-san's floor. Ryoma didn't know why they made a kitchen so high, because wouldn't it be a hassle to get food to the rest of the tower?
Since Jirou-san didn't say exactly where the kitchen was, Ryoma had to look for it within the floor. He was surprised to find stairs, an enormous gilded staircase that connected this floor to a couple others farther up, as in the palace at home. Ryoma eyed the long gleaming banister of the staircase and promised himself he would come back to it later. For now, he had to find food.
In his search of the floor, he found a dining room like the one he used a few floors below, and a sitting room with comfortably plushy couches and a tea table. Finally, when he went past the sitting room and found the kitchen, which was wonderfully large, and his quick eyes eagerly sought out the also gloriously large refrigerator. In no time, Ryoma was chugging milk straight out the bottle.
A noise made him stop short. There were soft sounds, deliberate and rhythmic; they were steps. Eyes widening, Ryoma nearly tripped over himself trying to find some place to hide. He rushed behind the open door of the kitchen just spare moments before someone walked in.
Ryoma held his hand over his mouth and tried to squeeze himself to become as small and unnoticeable as he could into the wall behind him. When the angel walked through and past the door, and Ryoma got a fleeting glimpse of the angel's hair, he gasped behind his hand.
Impossibly, Atobe stopped as if he had heard him. Although Ryoma hadn't made any sound at all.
Then there was a contemplative "Hmm," and Ryoma realized with rising dread that he had left the milk bottle out on the counter; uncapped, half-empty, a few spilt drops on the side.
Atobe made an impatient sound, and then there were sounds of him wetting a cloth and wiping up the mess. Ryoma was vaguely amazed that Atobe knew how to clean, and then would deign to use that knowledge.
After that, Atobe got out a glass of water and started to drink it slowly. Ryoma listened to the near-silent swallows of his throat around the water, and visualized how his Adam's apple must have been bobbing up and down. Ryoma had yet to see Atobe doing something like a living, breathing creature, and not like an angel-shaped statue, until now (in a matter of speaking). So Ryoma was a bit fascinated with the sounds of Atobe eating and drinking; the few times he had seen the angel lord, he had been so poised and composed around him it was frustrating. Now, there was the definite crunch of biscuits. Ryoma's stomach rumbled silently in protest, and his mouth watered as Atobe continued munching away on biscuits. He was getting hungrier just listening. Ryoma hoped the angel left soon; his sharp nose was starting to pick up the smell of the biscuits from the air.
Before too long though, the biscuit-crunching ended, and after another swallow of water, Atobe was done. He walked towards the doorway, and Ryoma braced himself, hoping the angel wouldn't see him in the crack of where the door was hinged to the wall. He needn't have worried about that. This was Atobe.
Atobe never walked past far enough to see Ryoma through the hinged crack; he stopped right in front of the doorway, where he slammed the door shut, revealing Ryoma's hiding form.
Ryoma stared at the angel, speechless.
Atobe folded his arms, gave him a look up and down, and said casually, "Demon, what are you doing this fine evening? On my floor, in my kitchen?"
'Jirou-san could have mentioned this was Atobe's kitchen,' Ryoma's mind thought spitefully. To Atobe, he said simply and honestly, "I was hungry."
"Is that so? Then I suppose that is your milk on the counter."
Ryoma nodded. "I was hungry," he said again.
Atobe's eyes narrowed. "How did you find this place? And where are your guards?"
Ryoma didn't want to get Jirou-san or his sleeping angelguard in trouble, so he shrugged. "I got bored and while I was exploring I found this kitchen."
Atobe pressed, eyebrow arched, "Your guards?"
Ryoma shrugged again, stubbornly. "Hey, how did you know I was here?" Ryoma suddenly demanded.
Atobe held up a small tuft of a black feather, and drawled, "It wasn't exactly such a puzzle, and don't change the subject. Where are your guards?"
"I don't know. I lost them; I'm sneaky like that," Ryoma smirked.
Atobe touched a finger delicately to his forehead to wave away an oncoming headache. He had only wanted a midnight snack and this was what he walked into.
Atobe motioned to the door wearily. "Well, come along then. You will return to your room and your guards will be disposed of and replaced."
Ryoma's breath caught in his throat. "Disposed of"? There were demons that were cruel enough to see life as something to be toyed with, but Ryoma had thought by the angels' holier-than-thou attitude that they were different. Apparently, he was wrong.
Ryoma shook his head and dodged Atobe's arm to sit himself on a stool in the kitchen.
"No, I'm hungry," Ryoma said resolutely, determined not to let Atobe take him back to his room yet. He would at least give the guards some time to escape for their lives. Like he did as a child with the palace cooks, he ordered petulantly, "Feed me."
Atobe hissed in annoyance. "You are testing my patience, child."
Ryoma's eyes flashed. "I am not a child!" he said in a sudden rise of anger, "I'm probably less than half a century younger than you!"
"Really?" Atobe huffed in disbelief, and an eyebrow raised mockingly, "I am two hundred twelve summers. How old are you?"
Ryoma looked triumphant. "A hundred and fifty five, only about half a century younger as I said." At that, Atobe barked a laugh.
"Impossible! You look like you're barely ninety!"
Ryoma gave a horrified retort, "I do not!"
Atobe gave a flip of his oddly violet-grey hair. "Please, boy, learn from Ore-sama. If you're going to lie, make it believable. You could be a hundred and ten, maybe."
Eye twitching in annoyance, Ryoma looked around for the first attack missile and spotted the leftover biscuits. Atobe didn't know what hit him.
Whap! The biscuit fell to the floor in two crumbly pieces and broke into more upon contact with the smooth marble. The angel reached up with trembling fingers and brushed a few crumbs off his forehead, his face marked in stone. Atobe closed his eyes for patience; this wasn't the first time he wanted to hit someone, but it was the first time it had happened without someone around to do it for him. Breaking, Atobe advanced on the young demon with a growl, "How dare you."
Ryoma, on instinct, forced his wings to spread. They tore out of his shirt and curved around him in a semi-sphere. Atobe looked startled at the sudden shield. Using the element of surprise, Ryoma was about to throw a gust of wind at the angel and then take off, but just as his wings bent, a horribly severe muscle spasm stiffened the left one. Ryoma lost balance and fell forward, stumbling with a cry of pain. His right wing flapped uselessly alone and only managed to brush Atobe's hair back.
Atobe's eyes narrowed and a hand reached out for Ryoma. "Don't!" Defensively, Ryoma jumped back, clutching at his left wing, but Atobe jumped in front of him, his own wings spread for a burst of speed. Before Ryoma could run, the angel grabbed him.
"Let go!" the demon exclaimed.
"Calm, calm, boy," Atobe ordered as he held down Ryoma's shoulders to keep him still. Ryoma's right wing was still flapping weakly at his side. "Calm down. I will not harm you, so be still!" Atobe snapped irritably, and Ryoma shuddered, but stilled in his grasp. The demon breathed hard, every muscle tense. He was too aware of how much taller and stronger the angel was than him. His right wing continued its feeble flapping, as if weakly protesting Atobe's proximity.
Deft fingers felt the left wing, (Ryoma closed his eyes at the sensation) and through the soft jungle of black feathers, found the large knot that was paining the boy. They began to massage it, softly at first. "Relax, or it's going to hurt more," Atobe informed the boy, "Loosen your muscles. What did you do to this wing? It's horribly knotted," he tsked. The angel's reprimanding sounded astonishingly like his mother's, and Ryoma relaxed into his touch despite himself.
"I slept on it wrong," Ryoma mumbled, trying not to whimper when Atobe massaged a particularly tight part of the muscle. He didn't want to say that he had bent part of the wing when he fell on Jirou-san earlier. Who knew if Jirou-san would be "disposed of" too?
"It figures Ore-sama would be stuck laboring over a demon this time at night, when all Ore-sama wanted were some provisions from the kitchen," Atobe commented with an all-suffering sigh.
Ryoma bristled. "I didn't ask for your help. And stop referring to yourself like that, you sound like an idiot."
Atobe raised an eyebrow. "Your wing is in my hands, do you really want to test me?"
"See, now that wasn't so hard was it?" Ryoma smirked, making Atobe glower.
"Brat," he said.
"Bighead," Ryoma countered.
"Midget."
Ryoma narrowed his eyes. "Don't go there."
"Oh, found a weak spot, have we?"
"You are such a—ugh," Ryoma gave up, and they lapsed into silence as Atobe continued to massage his wing. It was surprisingly serene; except for them, it seemed as if the whole world were asleep.
Atobe's fingers were gentler than expected, and they worked over the wing steadfastly until the wing muscle was mush in his hands. By the time Atobe had finished, the wing was limp in his grasp, and Ryoma had leaned forward into Atobe's space, his cheek lightly brushing his left shoulder. Atobe had been massaging the top half of the wing, so one of his arms was around and behind Ryoma's head to reach it. If someone had walked in they would have thought the two were in a lovers' embrace. Cautiously, Atobe let go of the wing.
Almost glowing in the kitchen lights, the black wing feathers shone a brilliant emerald when he tilted his head the right way. This close, he couldn't resist brushing his fingers across them. They were so different from his own, which were plain white, and white still when in the light.
Ryoma raised his head tiredly, as if coming out of a trance, and at the motion Atobe turned his head towards him. He miscalculated how close they were, and their noses brushed tenderly.
They both froze in surprise. All traces of sleepiness disappeared from Ryoma's face.
Ryoma's golden gaze filled his eyes, and his lips…Atobe realized that the warmth against his lips was from the heat of Ryoma's. Their lips, slowly, brushed just as tenderly as their noses had, but no pressure made the action definite. Ryoma's eyes fluttered closed. At the sight, Atobe shuddered, and remembering himself, pulled away, taking a hasty step back.
"Y-You…," Atobe stuttered, actually stuttered, before he trailed off, at a loss for words for one of the few times in his life. Ryoma carefully, almost contemplatively touched a finger to his lips. Their gazes met once more.
It was as if they were seeing each other for the first time.
AN: There! Written half a year ago, and uploaded today, unbeta-ed and unedited, because I trust my past self to have not made it that bad. Might be continued, or it might not. Maddening, isn't it? Welcome to my world X(
Sincerely, your poor writer's-block-addled friend