Chapter Text
Vincent Charbonneau, an angel from the heavens above. It was surprising for someone like him, yet even being brought up here, his human traits stayed with him. No taste, saved for only being able to taste wine and bread.
This specific angel was a dominion angel, his job was to keep the world running and astray from evil. To spread the word of god to humans and to make more believe in what awaits after death. It was simple as is, but his stay in the human realm was long that he chose to blend in. He became a priest in a town. It made it easier for him to spread the word and help keep peace with activities such as supporting the poor and homeless. Most dominions-in this universe-just come, oh the holy, leave. Not him though.
There weren’t many angels that came to earth or even wanted to stay inside this bland world. Vincent was just one in a thousand who wanted to live on the planet of simple beings. God agreed to no surprises.
So there he was, an angel disguised as a priest. It was pointless to own a home, even if one were to be near. Thus, he lived in the church where he worked. A nice combination that no one knew.
Rody Lamoree-a demon–to short down he’s a hellhound in the sin of lust. He was previously human, but the ever-growing desire for love made him seem like a puppy. All the things he did for his lovers ultimately made him be thrown into hell at death.
It was foolish of him, and being in hell was even worse than it. That said he left, and by left he was forced to take years of punishment to be set free into the human realm. Only surviving off souls and blood. Though, a soul was more of a treat to him, it was difficult for he, himself, to obtain.
He roamed as a dog in the streets, a total stray. As much as he hated it, it was better than to reveal his human form–which wasn’t human with the additional pieces-that reminded him of who he was. A demon, the evil.
Today was Wednesday, December 14, 10:30 P.M. It was starting to get colder, and his fur wasn’t enough to keep himself warm. Even with it getting thicker in the winter, it simply wasn't enough. The sun was already down and he had no shelter. The previous one was attacked and broken down by some teenagers, how did he know? He guessed. But where could he go? Attempting to answer that question himself, a loud bell dinged.
A local church. They’re welcoming to animals… right?
That'll be where he’ll go, just for the night, that’s all. Besides! He could switch to a smaller dog, make himself look more… Eugh, domestic. Just enough to be seen as a human's dog.
Upon his arrival, the doors were wide open, leaving a good entry for him. Hastily, Rody rushed in, being greeted by the warmth and chatter of mortals. No one noticed his appearance, so thank Satan for that. Everything was going according to plan, just go into a room unbothered, hide, and sleep. A small door was conveniently cracked open on the far right of the big room. With a glance of looking left and right, nobody seemed to care. Like they ever will…
Urging on, Rody went underneath the tables, sneaking by and into the room without a sound. After coming in, the hellhound let out a breath he didn't know he was holding–
“Do you need anything?”
Shit.
The smell–the aura–of this being… It made Rody’s heart drop. The animal shook silently. Could... could this be a...?
“Of course I am,” the voice spoke first, “and I know what you are, too.”
This wasn’t going well–when has it ever gone well?!
The voice pushed on, this time more seriously, “What are you doing on holy ground?”
…
A creak of a chair scratching against the door was heard. More than likely the person getting up. Rody instinctively back away in response. Before the idea of running out of the room could be registered, the door slammed shut with a click.
“You dare to leave this place unharmed?” the man asked, his voice stern with a promising threat.
Rody audibly whined, his tail tucked between his legs. He didn’t go through all that torture just to be brought back–
The familiar bell rang once again. Candles that lit the room changed to be small and dim; stopping any light that could help the hellhound see clearly The “human” priest looked down at the "dog." Their white eyes glowing a faint light. Lord to lord, if the angel’s aura wasn’t scary enough, this surely was.
“Answer my question, will you?” the voice pressed further, now hushed and soft to each spoken word.
Eyes roamed around the strange being, each one staring down at the animal. It's figure was unlike any other, now he knew what it was. This is an angel. One that is DEFINITELY going to kill him. Whatever tension there was grew, stressing the poor demon. When the angel took a single step, Rody cried out humiliatingly, “PLEASE, PLEASE! I’M SO SORRY! I’M SO SORRY FOR EVEN COMING HERE!!!”
The auburn-furred dog was intimidated, already overwhelmed by the angelic tone and aura. The demon couldn’t catch a good view of it either, only that it took a tall humane form with the terrifying subside glow of eyes.
Vincent glared down at the small dog, surprised by how pathetic of a demon it could be. Hmm… he’s heard of these types of demons long ago, but he never saw one in person. They were called hellhounds for a reason, they were meant to remain in hell, not here.
The angel sighed quietly, getting down on one knee, the small crucifix that hung from his necklace made the hound back off with a yelp. He should take that off before interacting…
Getting a look at the demonized dog, specifically the eyes, Vincent took this moment to have a word, “Maybe I could get good use of you.” He rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing and never leaving the small dog’s own. He could train them, shape them up to bring attraction to the church, or try to redeem them–
“No.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re not using me for ANYTHING!”
Vincent slowly takes back out the crucifix.
“...Sorry.”
“Mhm.”
Vincent briskly grabbed hold of Rody by the back of his nape and stood up with him. The dog flinched, squirming and covering his eyes cowardly. The angel stared at the neck to see at least something specific, but there was nothing fur.
The angel will have to ask about this later, but for now, this creature reeked of sulfur and blood. Gross.
“You smell,” Vincent bluntly blurted, his angelic voice long gone, now with one of pure disgust.
Rody growled at the comment, only to be dropped down with a small thud on the carpeted floor. Vincent left the room, allowing Rody’s train of thought to rage. He questioned himself: why? Why was this ANGEL strangely unbothered by a DEMON inside this church? Why? Rody should be dead by now, but he isn’t. What’s wrong with this guy?! Not that he wanted to be dead…
Like a lost puppy, which he was, Rody followed with the priest before him. Everything was cleaned and gone? Everyone must've left. Looking at his surroundings, the two are now in the chapel.
Even with a chance of hope that he will live, the silence was deafeningly loud yet significantly awkward. “Why are you so… relaxed with me being here?” Rody started, his red eyes landing on the priest.
“Usually, there is a satanic marking by or on your neck in whichever formation you take. You, little demon, don’t seem to have it,” Vincent answered, having a venomous tongue at the name-calling. He did not make facial eye contact with the other, but the floating eyes did.
Rody gave a harsh glare, yet Vincent didn’t mind (he didn’t care whatsoever). The angel opened to what seemed to be a knob on a door and walked in with Rody following behind. Based on looks, it was the kitchen, not so far from the chapel itself. It confused Rody, why is he here? Angels didn’t have to eat, did they? That he heard from someone, but didn’t know for himself.
“You look famished, are you?” asked the priest, turning his head to look at the hellhound. Rody felt creeped out by now, why is this angel so nice to him?
“Also, I’m aware you can turn into a human form, so stop the act.”
Rody kept his glare. He’s being led into a trap, he can tell it from a mile away.
Having no other option but to oblige, Rody backed up to give the two space. Taking a breath, bright flames and red smoke brushed around the hound, bones breaking and cracking for a howl ever so vaguely heard echoed through the room. A human replaced the spot where the hound previously was. Their eyes opening to reveal the vibrant ruby-red eyes. What else came to view was horns of a goat, wings of a bat, and the signature demon tail, but the end was a heart.
“You’re naked.”
“…What?”
“Such nice hearing you have. Let's repeat it again: You’re naked.”
Rody slowly looked down, and in fact, had no clothes. He screamed, covering himself up with a flustered face. Laughing to himself sheepishly, he looked away from the other in sheer embarrassment.
“Forgot about that… heh, my bad,” as if his reputation wasn’t already torn down enough. Yeesh.
Vincent’s mouth opened to say something but paused, and then finally spoke, “If you excuse me, I cannot have a nude stranger roaming around here, as much as… filthy… creatures you demons are, that isn’t acceptable in the human realm. Let alone in my church.” The priest walked past Rody, the eyes naturally going along to, ‘not daring’ to even bat an eye. Rody could only look, his face scrunching up at the other’s comment of his kind. Not that he could amend it, he’s not that important.
He didn’t own that much clothing with the size for the other. Yes, even despite Vincent’s main eyes not looking, he had one of the floating eyes stare at Rody’s build for a brief moment to see exactly what he was dealing with. The demonic being wasn’t taller, but that was redeemed by him owning a stronger physical build. Hmm… a dark red oversized shirt and some black baggy sweatpants he was given some time ago… These would do. Whichever boxers the angel never wore, the demon could. Which, luckily, was one, oddly enough.
Vincent returned to the kitchen where the demonic being remained. His gaze narrowed as he turned his head and held out the folded clothing in his hand. The gesture's intention was for Rody to take it, but he didn’t.
“These are your clothes for now, you mutt,” Vincent scowled, agitated by the lack of common sense this man had.
“They are? Really? I mean— thanks!” Rody smiled, finally taking the clothing out of Vincent’s hand.
“Good. Now, get out of my kitchen and to the bathroom to change,” Vincent said, more in a quiet demanding tone.
“What?” The demon asked, his head tilting to the side.
The angel pinched his nose and grumbled. He took a heavy sigh in utter disappointment and turned his head to Rody, arms crossed, “I said: Go. To. The. Restroom.”
“Oh! On it!” exclaimed Rody, who now rushed himself out of the kitchen, running in whatever direction he thought the bathroom possibly was.
“He doesn’t know where the restroom is, doesn’t he?” Vincent thought to himself, groaning before shouting the way, “It’s on your left once you reach the hall!”
“Okay!” echoed back to the angel, which he could only guess was the demon. A loud slam followed after, yep, that was him.
This situation weirded Vincent down to the core, why didn’t this being have the mark, yet have features of one? It surely wasn’t some comical cosplay, this was real. He even smells like one, which is horrendously gross. Vincent knows he should kill him, it’s by the law, but… he isn’t owned by Lucifer from the looks of it. Every single demon he has exterminated had the mark near the neck or on it, it’s only signature for it to be there. So why doesn’t he?
The auburn-haired returned, the clothing fitting his build quite nicely. “I’m back. Uhm, what is your name?”
Vincent’s bubble popped, his eyes widened slightly at the sudden appearance of the demon. He shook his head, clearing himself as he quickly fixed his posture. “I am Vincent Charbonneau, a priest and follower of the holy lord himself,” he introduced.
“Oh, well, my name is Rody. Rody Lamoree. But you can just call me Rody,” he said, having an oblivious but acknowledging smile. It only made Vincent annoyed.
“Although being very stupid, he didn’t state if he was a demon or not,” Vincent thought again, how suspicious of him. He’ll question it.
“Are you not a demon?”
“Huh?” the auburn-haired perked up curiously.
“A demon. Is that what you are?” the raven-haired repeated, his voice raised audibly.
“Yeah?” Rody agreed confusingly.
“Then why don’t you have the mark?” Vincent pushed on.
“Oh! That.”
“…So?”
“Well, that’s the funny thing. You see, I’ve had to go through years, and by years I mean YEARS of torture to finally be let off the leash like this,” Rody explained, chuckling nervously, “I don’t work underneath him anymore but for myself.”
“How funny,” Vincent replied sarcastically.
“I’m serious! Check me right now, I don't have the mark!” Rody spoke quickly, ready to take off his shirt to prove his innocence.
Vincent put his hand up and pointed a finger down. Rody’s hands automatically pulled the shirt back down. “There is no need for that, I’m already aware.”
“How did you-“
“Questioning further will lead you right out the door.”
“Okay…”
“Now,” Vincent paused, looking around before walking away from the door of the kitchen and into the chapel, “I have things to do in the morning. So, in conclusion, I must rest.”
“Can’t you just get out of your vessel and do it tonight?” Rody questioned despite the warning, chasing up behind him. The raven-haired stopped his walking.
“What fool do you take me for? I’m not doing that for basic duties,” Vincent turned back, having an irked face at the dumbfounding demon behind him. “Also, I need the energy. I have heard your kind does sleep often. Don’t you need it too?”
“That’s Sloth,” Rody murmured.
“You look like a sloth.”
“What was that?”
Vincent scoffed, “Nothing. What sin are you?”
“It’s awkward to say… but I’m in the Lust ring.”
“Oh? So you’re... ugh…”
“Hey! Don’t get all creeped out, it’s not even that bad!”
“Besides being very salacious,” Vincent spoke under his breath, eyeing Rody as he began to walk to the halls.
Rody groaned but again went with him. The two now were inside a room. One bed, a black sofa with red cushions in the far corner left, and a lamp. On the right was a black desk and chair with a mini lamp settled on it. Scrambled papers laid on the top. Besides the desk was a brown dresser and a full-body mirror.
“You’re sleeping on the sofa,” Vincent said immediately, pointing to the couch.
The demon paused mid-walking and looked. The bed was big enough for the two of them?
“Do I have to sleep on that?” Rody whined before getting hit with a pillow and a blanket shortly after.
“Hey- was that fucking necessary?!” he shouted, offended by the throw.
“Language. And of course, I don’t know what you touched, and I don’t need to know. Now stop your hollering and get used to it. In no way on earth are you sleeping on the same bed with me,” Vincent explained, his last sentence sour as a lemon.
Rody sighed in defeat, accepted his fate, and marched over to the sofa. Clicked out the lamp's light first then laid down on the cushioned surface. Surprisingly, it was more comfortable than it looked.
“Good night to you, demon.”
“Bad night to you, angel.”