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“What is that?”
Dagon looked up at Michael, then down at the fruit in her hand. “A pomegranate?”
“I know what it is, fiend,” they scoffed. “Why do you have it?”
“Well, that wasn't what you asked.” Michael glared at her. “I'm allowed to have a snack, you know.” To emphasize her point, she popped a handful of seeds into her mouth.
“We're in a meeting.”
“We're also in Hell,” she shot back. “And it's just the two of us. I'm hungry, I'm going to eat.”
“You don't even need food.” Michael looked at the pomegranate with contempt. “Why would you spoil your eternal body with such rubbish?”
“Do you have any opinions that aren't Gabriel's?” An angelic jaw dropped. Dagon just kept eating.
“I have - I do not - Gabriel does not speak for me!”
“Really? So then why are you just following the party line? Aren't you even a little curious?” She held out the pomegranate to them; an offering, of sorts. “Unless you're scared of demon cooties.”
Michael scoffed and snatched up the fruit. “Cooties are not a thing.” They - very carefully - plucked three seeds from the red flesh. Dagon’s gaze never left them as they brought their hand to their mouth. There’s almost something predatory in her eyes - like a hunter tracking a deer.
“So? What do you think?”
“It is…fine.” The ends of their fingers were stained red. “Not particularly unpleasant, I suppose.”
“A Hell-grown pomegranate, and all you have to say is it’s fine. Wow.”
“This was grown here? How?”
“Crowley.” Dagon seemed disgusted by even speaking his name. “Bastard loves plants. Introduced a whole department for the damned things. Something about self-sustainability. Beelzebub let him do it just to shut him up.” She rolled her eyes, muttering something about never filing paperwork under her breath. “But he was half decent at it. Yelling at them works. Demons get assigned there as a reward, and none of them want to be sent back to hellhound duty. It’s the best place in this damned pit.”
“Could I see it?” The question was so far out of left field that it confused both of them, to be entirely honest. Michael - even during their occasional dalliances - had never had any interest in exploring Hell. The angel and demon stared at each other for a moment, trying to process the words that had just been said. “If it’s not too much trouble, that is.”
“Since when has trouble stopped any of us?” Dagon did not notice the way Michael lit up at her acceptance. She did not notice the way her corporation skipped a beat at the sight of their smile. Demons are quite skilled at lying to themselves. “C’mon, we’ll take a tour.”
It’s not that it’s unheard of for angels to be in Hell and demons in Heaven. The two have had a working relationship for millennia. The uncommon thing is for such a high ranking angel to be walking through Hell without a single file in hand. Michael had been the one to strike down Lucifer; why were they following Dagon like a tourist? There would have been whispers following the pair, if everyone hadn’t been too scared of the Archangel to speak. This included the demons working in the greenhouses, who took one look at the glowing being behind the Duke and promptly scattered like cockroaches.
“Looks like you’ve got a reputation, Goldie,” Dagon said as the pair walked leisurely through the various gardens. Every so often, they stopped, and she would slice open a fruit for Michael to try. In addition to pomegranates, Hell also had oranges, apples (duh), lemons, and almonds. Strawberries filled several garden beds, and blueberry bushes were scattered around the edges. The light was harsh compared to the rest of Hell, but in reality, it was hardly brighter than a cloudy day. The gardens were expansive, stretching as far as the eye could see. Michael had been enraptured by the place almost immediately.
“How did you even do this? It's like your own version of Eden!” Dagon mumbled something that they couldn’t quite hear. “What was that?”
“Its design is based off Eden,” she said, only slightly louder. “Like I said, Crowley was the one in charge of this before he screwed us all over. He saw the damn place the most out of all of us, and he remembered it well enough to recreate it.” She gestured to the center of the gardens, where a massive apple tree could be seen growing. “That thing is his pride and joy. Or at least, it was.”
“I see.” Michael took a moment to stare at the tree. There was no chance that it was the same tree that had once stood in the original Garden; the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil could not be replicated by anyone, and it had been lost along with Eden. But it was an impressive tree nonetheless. “It is getting late. I ought to get back to work.”
“I’ll walk you to the elevator,” Dagon said, offering her arm. This got her an eye roll, but Michael did loop their arm through hers, at least until they left the gardens. Their walk to the elevator was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. The two had moved beyond being enemies long ago, and mere colleagues not long after that. And then…they hovered for a few centuries, never quite admitting to being friends. They never stopped bickering, of course, and a good spar was always in the cards, but something had shifted along the way. Not-quite-friends had become not-quite-something-else, and if they had been hesitant to put a name to friends, they were certainly not going to put a name to whatever they had become. It was enough, at least, for now, to simply know there was something, even if neither of them had truly acknowledged it.
“Are there any files I should bring next time?” Michael asked as they stepped into the elevator.
“Nothing I can think of off the top of my head,” Dagon said with a shrug, leaning up against the wall right outside the doors. “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”
“Of course.” They both nodded at each other as Michael pressed the button for Heaven, a secret smile on each face before the doors closed. But…nothing happened. Michael pressed the button again. Still, nothing. “Something’s wrong.”
“Wasn’t me!” Michael glared at her. “What? It wasn’t!”
“That's such a helpful observation,” they said. “If only it actually helped.”
“If only it actually helped,” Dagon repeated, shaking her head as she said it. “Do you think I can fix the elevator? Your lot are supposed to be the ones in charge of maintenance.”
“I'll submit a maintenance report once I get Upstairs. I'll just…use the stairs this time.” There was a look of disgust upon their face at the very idea.
“Sure. I'll show you the way.” The walk to the stairwell was fraught with hesitation, both of them on edge. When they reached the door to the stairs, Michael almost sighed with relief. They pushed open the door while Dagon kept watch, but…they couldn't seem to cross the threshold. “What's wrong?”
“I don't know!” It was like an invisible barrier had formed that wouldn't let them through. Only Michael, though - Dagon stepped past them just fine, turning around with confusion as she faced no resistance.
“I'm calling Beelzebub.”
“I'm calling Gabriel.”
Angel and demon looked at each other, glaring at the idea of bringing more beings into this situation, but neither would deny the other the comfort of someone familiar.
“Zey'll be here soon,” Dagon said, slipping her phone back into her pocket. She watched as Michael paced, intermittently trying (and failing) to get into the stairwell. With a roll of her eyes, she miracled up a bench. “Come sit.”
“What?” Michael almost seemed confused. “No, thank you.”
“I'm getting tired just watching you, angel, just come sit down.” It took a raised eyebrow and a very pointed look, but Michael did finally relent and sit down beside her. “It's probably nothing. We'll figure it out when the others get here.”
“I hope you're right.”
Dagon was, unfortunately, not right. Gabriel and Beelzebub didn't know what the hell (pun intended) was stopping Michael from leaving Hell.
“Thiz iz ridiculouz,” the Lord of the Flies said as zey watched the Supreme Archangel try to pull Michael through the doorway for the third time. “You're juzt going to rip their arm off doing that. Not that I don't want to zee that, but it wouldn't fix the problem.”
“Well, then, what do you suggest, demon?” Gabriel shot back, his tone far less angry than ought to have been expected. (Had Dagon and Michael not been so focused on their problem, they might have noticed the looks their bosses kept giving each other.) “It's not like you've been helping.”
“I'm a demon, I don't help.” Dagon gave zem a pleading look, and zey sighed. “Ugh, fine. What did you two idiotz do today, before thiz?” Normally, Michael might have objected to the title, but there was far too much going on for them to even care.
“We had a meeting, that's happened before.”
“Juzt a meeting?” Beelzebub asked, looking between the two with doubtful eyes. “What kind of meeting?”
“What are you insinuating?” Michael very nearly lunged at zem, but was stopped by Dagon.
“Not the time, angel,” she whispered. “It was just a meeting to compare notes, my lord. I promise.”
“And after the meeting, you couldn't use the elevator?” Gabriel asked, almost thinking out loud rather than truly asking. Michael and Dagon both immediately looked away. (Gabe might be a bit dense, but he's not that much of an idiot.) “Michael.”
“We didn't do anything wrong. It was just a tour.”
“Of what, the demon?”
Beelzebub started coughing as zey tried not to laugh. Dagon went a pale blue as all the blood drained out of their face. Michael, on the other hand, went bright red.
“Gabriel! How - of all the things - you dare - accusing me of sleeping with a demon isn't helping anything right now!”
“I want to rule out all the options!”
“Zleeping with a demon doezn't trap you in Hell,” Beelzebub said lazily. Gabriel snapped his mouth shut with a glare. “What did you give wankwingz a tour of, Dagon?”
“The gardens, that's it. We just walked around and ate fruit.”
“You both ate fruit?” Dagon nodded. “Huh. Zo that'z what happenz when an angel eatz Hell-grown fruit.”
“What?!” Michael, once again, looked ready to strangle Beelzebub.
“How much did you eat? Maybe there'z a loophole.”
“I showed them almost the whole garden,” Dagon groaned. “When did we start stealing from the Greeks?”
“It'z not ztealing if we juzt found out about it.”
“So I'm stuck here,” Michael said, only slightly freaking out, “because I had a few bites of fruit??”
“This is why we don't defile our eternal bodies,” Gabriel started, fully prepared to go on a long-winded speech that he'd given to Aziraphale several times. But - thankfully - he was cut off by Beelzebub snorting. “There must be some way to get around this.”
“Probably, but thiz haz never happened before. We'd have to azk…the traitor.”
While Beelzebub and Gabriel continued to bicker, Dagon gently pulled Michael back over to the bench.
“Hey. It'll be alright.”
“I'm stuck here,” Michael whispered. “I can't - how am I supposed to do my work Down Here?” Dagon suppressed a laugh before she realized they weren’t kidding.
“Hey, hey, none of that. We’ll figure something out.” It was rare for Michael to show any sign of doubt, and Dagon was well aware of that. The fact that they had said how they felt without even bothering to spar first was almost shocking. “There’s gotta be an empty office somewhere around here that we can set you up in.” Not even an eye roll at the suggestion; this was not good. “Okay, alright, come on. Up you get. Come on.” With minimal resistance, Dagon managed to lead Michael away from the stairwell (and completely missed Beelzebub pulling Gabriel away by his tie).
Michael had gone into some form of shock, which meant taking the back way to Dagon’s office to ensure they weren't seen in such a state. It was rather concerning, and to say Dagon was not a fan would be an understatement. She fell in love with an angel who kept trying to cut her head off, and this was very much not that. Once they had gotten to her office, Dagon got to work, settling Michael in her desk chair before scurrying around from filing cabinet to filing cabinet.
“What are you doing?” Michael asked as they watched her.
“Told you,” she said, “gonna get you an office. There's paperwork that needs to be filed.”
“You were serious about that?”
“Of course I was, angel,” Dagon replied, half buried in another filing cabinet. “Why wouldn't I be?” She didn't turn to look at them, too far gone in the hunt for the proper forms. “We can probably get you one on the top floor, get you as close to the surface as possible. You can't use the external stairs, but considering we've gone back and forth across Hell, what, three times now? I think it's safe to say the internal stairs won't bother you.” She continued to chatter, happy to fill the silence. “Might even be able to get you a window, too. It's cheating a bit, of course, seeing as I'm the one who approves all the paperwork. The only reason I'm even bothering to fill it out is because Beelzebub will flay me alive if there's no paper trail. But honestly, what's the point in having power if you're not going to abuse it?”
“A window?” is all Michael could say.
“Yeah. Well, okay, it's really more of a skylight, and we'd probably have to clean it, but it's better than nothing. And it's just the Earth agents up there, so they shouldn't bother you too much. They've all gone a bit…peculiar over the years. Oh! I'll send an Eric Upstairs to get all your files and whatnot. Uriel would probably help him find everything, right? I don't imagine Gabriel knows where any of your stuff is. And Uriel is a right tosser, but they're at least not as dense as he is.”
Perhaps if she had ever ceased her chattering, she might have heard Micheal get up from the chair. Or maybe if she had looked up from her many files, she would have seen the angel approaching her. (Although, I suppose we ought to cut Dagon a bit of slack. She is quite stressed, after all.) Suffice it to say, Dagon was very surprised when Michael came up behind her and wrapped their arms around her.
“Thank you,” Michael said, effectively cutting off her rambling. Dagon stood frozen, being hugged for the first time in Satan knows how long. Had she ever been hugged? She couldn't quite recall, far too distracted by the feeling of Michael’s arms around her to worry about a silly thing like that.
It wasn't even that the two had never touched. You, dear reader, have already seen them hold hands and lean upon each other, but even before this tale, the two were closer than they might have admitted. Narrow hallways, dark offices, even the occasional spar lead itself to brushes and caresses that each could claim was accidental. A few of their fights had even led to a kiss or two, the passion of the fight lending itself quite nicely to other kinds of passion, although they had never quite managed to get past groping at each other fully clothed.
But this? There was no brushing this off as accidental. This was purposeful. This was intended. This was still going on, Dagon realized belatedly. She wasn't sure how long hugs normally lasted, but she was pretty sure it wasn't this long. But even as she turned, slowly, Michael didn't release her, only adjusted slightly to allow the demon in their arms to face them.
“If this is what I get for just filling out the paperwork, I can't wait to see what you do when we actually get you in that office.” Michael laughed, but did not let go. At some point, Dagon had moved her hands to their hips.
“Foul beast.” There was no heat behind their words; instead, there was a teasing gleam in their eyes. “Is that all you think about? How crass.”
“If I’m so crass, why are you still holding onto me?” Dagon shot back.
“I said you were crass, not that I didn’t like you.” Once again, Dagon stood frozen. “Oh, honestly. I’m stuck in Hell, I think we can say the unsaid things at this point.”
“You like me?” Michael sighed and rolled their eyes, but still didn’t let go of Dagon. “Don’t look at me like that! It’s a valid question!”
“Is it?”
“You were literally just telling Gabriel how offensive the idea of sleeping with me was.”
“No,” Michael said, that teasing gleam in their eyes again, “I was offended at being falsely accused. And at being asked about my sexual habits by my boss. Horribly inappropriate, you know.”
“So you’re…not offended by the idea of sleeping with me?”
“I think I’m more offended by the fact that I want to sleep with an idiot.”
“Hey! I’m not an idiot!” Michael just waited. “Wait. Really?” They nodded. “We don’t even have to spar first?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, you only ever kiss me after we spar. Only time I can get close enough to your mouth, y’know.” Michael, who was only just now realizing how much time they could have saved by not suppressing their emotions, decided that they were tired of waiting for Dagon to catch up to the plot. They didn’t have to move much, considering they were already holding her rather close, which meant Dagon had very little warning before being kissed. Not that she was complaining, of course, because as soon as she realized that this was real, she was kissing them back with a passion.
When they both pulled back, neither of them went very far, both still clinging to each other like they were going to vanish any second.
“Woah. That’s a lot nicer when we’re both not covered in blood,” Dagon breathed out.
“You’re going to be covered in blood if you don’t get us both to your quarters right now.” Michael’s voice was also very breathless.
“What’s the matter, you don’t want to fuck me on my desk?”
“Dagon,” they growled.
“Oh, hush, I’m only teasing.” She moved to kiss them this time, and the next moment, they both vanished with a pop!