holy

ii

there was an angel on eddy's couch.

he had grudgingly decided to bring brett back to his apartment instead of leaving him on the cold, hard sidewalk. for all he knew, the bartender could've walked out and tried to hurt brett again, and then eddy would have even more work to do. and eddy was not up for more work. it was 3 am and he was tired, and on top of all of that he had to deal with a drunk angel, too.

so eddy gathered up brett in his arms, carrying his limp body through the streets of the city. he would have flown, but the presence of an angel was unsettling and made it quite painful to unfurl his wings, so he decided to walk.

when he reached his apartment he dropped brett onto the couch and sheltered himself in his room. he took a scalding hot shower, trying to burn the angel scent off of his skin, but had little luck. he smelled like he had bathed in cotton candy and he knew that by morning, his entire apartment would smell like that too.

the mere existence of the angel in eddy's apartment made him instinctually uneasy, and rightfully so. demon and angel interaction was so uncommon because of how uncomfortable it was for both parties, and this was especially true as eddy struggled to fall asleep. everything felt too peaceful, too happy, and he knew it was because of the angel lying on his living room couch. so maybe messing around with angels wasn't as fun as eddy had thought.

•

eddy woke up the next morning to the sound of coughing.

was there a human in his apartment?

his eyes shined red with anger as he stormed out of his bedroom. the smell of angel hit him like a bus, but he ignored it, intent on finding out how the hell a human had gotten into his
apartment overnight.

but when he walked into the living room, there was only brett, curled up on the couch, his small wings unfurled behind him, torn through his shirt.

eddy watched him cough into his hand, blood staining the side of his mouth. eddy flinched at the sight.

how—and why—in the world was he sick?

eddy stepped closer to brett, towering over his shivering figure on the couch.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" eddy asked bluntly.

brett looked up at him, eyes still the same glassy pale blue they had been the night before.

"i don't know," he said weakly, teeth chattering with every word. he closed his eyes, feeling as if he were about to pass out again.

"put that shit away, not in the house" eddy ordered, referring to brett's wings, which didn't look so good either. they were limp and grey, not their usual bright white color.

"sorry, i-i didn't mean to," brett apologized, groaning lowly at the amount of effort it took for him to tuck his wings away. it usually never hurt this bad.

eddy was fed up with having this angel invading his space. he wanted nothing more than to have his apartment—and his life—back to normal so that he could finish his work on earth comfortably. he was about to tell brett to leave when the angel starting coughing violently, blood spewing onto his white t-shirt. he was shaking and quivering as if it were snowing in eddy's apartment, and he laid back onto the couch, closing his eyes.

"so cold..." he whispered absentmindedly.

eddy stormed back into his bedroom.

what was he supposed to do? angels didn't get sick, that was just a fact. eddy ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. it must have been the alcohol, he realized. but eddy didn't know how to fix it. neither heaven nor hell had doctors, simply because the immortal didn't need them.

the sound of brett's coughs intensifying made eddy's heart beat out of his chest. he needed to heal brett, one way or another, because an angel dying in his apartment would not look good for him. there had been cases of demons killing angels in the past, and it never ended well. even though he hadn't hurt brett, there was no evidence he didn't, and the fact that brett had eddy's smell all over him surely wouldn't help his case. he'd get in trouble with everyone—the devil, the angels, even god. he could lose his wings, or even worse, become human.

eddy wracked his brain. brett said he was cold, right? being a demon, eddy had never had the experience of being cold, and the very concept confused him. nevertheless he lept into action, grabbing one of his hoodies and the blanket off of his bed.

he returned to find brett laying on the couch, his skin so pale and his breathing so shallow that he thought the angel might already be dead. thankfully, brett's wheezing breaths and shaking body gave him away.

"take off your shirt."

brett sat up suddenly at the proximity of eddy's voice. he felt a strange inclination to lean in closer to the demon's warmth.

"huh?" brett asked weakly, glasses crooked on his face.

"put this on," eddy demanded, "quick, before i change my mind and kick you out."

brett followed his instructions, both out of fear and out of necessity.

meanwhile, eddy tried not to stare at brett's chest as he removed his tattered, bloodied shirt.

the hoodie was hilariously oversized on the smaller angel, but brett didn't seem to care as his shivering had already begun to subside.

"lay down."

"why?" brett asked suspiciously.

"just do it," eddy growled out, not happy with the fact that he was spending his sunday morning taking care of an angel.

brett did as he said, not knowing what to expect from the threatening demon.

eddy picked up the heavy, king sized blanket, and laid it over brett's body.

now, it was brett's turn to cringe at the scent that enveloped him. all traces of the sugary-sweetness were gone. now, he smelled even more strongly of smoke, mint, and darkness—if that could even have a smell.

but at least he didn't feel cold anymore. in fact, he felt so warm and comfortable under the layers of fabric that he found himself being lulled to sleep almost uncontrollably.