The Sexiest Angel in the Garrison is currently not available. I'm probably having sex with your crush or having fun doing the things you always wanted to do but never had the balls to try. Leave a message.
[ It might be a little strange to feel so protective of an angel that is leagues beyond anything he can do, but it's a feeling that Greg's had since the moment they first met. It was a strange, fleeting thing at first, but it's gotten steadily stronger since, much more so with every vulnerable moment they share together. It's just as well that Gabriel doesn't really need to be protected as much from forces far beyond Greg's control, but rather from things like the day-to-day drag of existence here and Hell. Sometimes maybe even from himself.
That is something that Greg feels as if he can help with. When his wings are wrapped so securely around both of them, he can feel that sense of peace and calm just as much as Gabriel obviously does. It's partially just in his nature, but he figures that the whole angelic aspect probably has something to do with it, too, now.
He's willing enough to let Gabriel finish the rest of that cigarette, if he likes. He's definitely smoked enough of them on the way over, taking a few breaths of relatively fresh air would probably be good for him at this point. ]
Not so much 'domesticated,' just happy, I think, but I get it. You've got a reputation to worry about.
[ It would be impossible not to smile at that. As strange as all of this probably is, as ultimately inconvenient as it might be with the fact that he's tethered, in a way, to Heaven, Greg has no regrets about any of it. He's not really worried, either, though he realises that one day he'll very likely have to make some difficult choices. Not just because of this, though. It was really shaping up to be inevitable from the start.
Then comes the questioning, and Greg sighs. Aside from the claws that dug into his wing at the last moment before he managed to stumble out of the way, which still hurts, unsurprisingly, he doesn't feel that bad. There might be a few bruises later on, and he'll definitely feel them in the morning, but overall it's nothing to worry about. He's had far worse. But Gabriel will worry, anyway, and he won't stop until he's heard the whole thing, more or less. ]
Yes, from slightly above. Out of a window. Look, like I said, that conversation really didn't have to be as hostile as it was, but sometimes that's the way it goes.
[ The problem with his wing is that it looks much worse than it is. That's the thing about those brilliantly white feathers, any other colour stands out so obnoxiously against them. Greg is reluctant, sure, but he'll talk about what happened, even if it's not a fun experience to relate. He would really rather avoid having Gabriel panic over the state of his feathers, if at all possible. It's worth a try. He's already eyeing the door. ]
[ Not strange, not really. Greg is a protective soul, that's obvious to everyone. His focus has always been on everyone else before his own needs, and even if Gabriel has the capacity to fight off demons in a way Greg might not yet have, or ever have, the fact is Greg has much more experience of the Real World. Gabriel knows how to deal with gods and ghosts and supernatural things Up Top. He does not deal well with corporate nastiness or the fact that so many things here are so desperately wrong. Gabriel has never dealt with that well, especially when there's nothing he can do to even things out.
The cigarette is mostly gone now anyway, so there's no much point giving it back. Gabriel hasn't really smoked for a long time, not since pipes went out of fashion, and they never suited him much either. They 60s were different of course, everyone smoked everything back then.]
The sort of people who would call me domesticated don't care if I'm happy or not. [Crowley for one. But he is still smiling, because Crowley knows better than to try anything with Gabriel.
Those decisions might not happen for a long, long time. Unless someone is attempting to force Greg's hand. Sherlock and John will be the deciding factor, he knows that. Where-ever they end up, Greg will follow. They came first. They're why Greg is here. And Gabriel... is okay with that.]
Okay, you fell out of a window, into a hedge, and- [Gabriel pauses, and then focuses, really focuses on Greg, and takes a breath] and you're bleeding. Inside. Now.
[Yes, Greg should get cleaned up. He should have mentioned it before now, but Gabriel isn't surprised, not really. He doesn't know how bad it is, but if the rest of Greg is blood-free, then maybe it's not to bad. He just knows how delicate wings are. How much a little nick can fester and spread.]
Princess! Come on, inside.
[And the little dog yaps in answer, picking up her new toy and running forwards as they move to the door, Gabriel stamping out the cigarette in the ashtray before following Greg inside, the little seed of worry growing a little taller as he watches Greg's back, the sort of stiff way he's holding himself]
This is Hell, if you get a chance to push a cop through a window, you take it.
[ Sherlock and John are only part of the reason that Greg is here, though. Things wouldn't have turned out too differently in the end even if they hadn't been honestly, though it's likely that otherwise Greg would have spent more time in Heaven before coming down this way. He would still end up here as a Transfer. He would still be digging in his heels here as much as he can. No matter which way their cases go, Greg doesn't expect any of this to change. The idea of Sherlock being stuck up in Heaven for any length of time is fairly ridiculous.
It's just convenient that Gabriel, Sherlock, and John are all on the same 'side,' effectively speaking. Greg can't imagine a situation at this point where he would really have to choose between any of them, not in any sort of permanent way, and he hopes that it'll never come to that. He'd definitely fight against that - bitterly, if he had to.
Greg is willing to take some scolding for not seeing to this sooner. He didn't want it to take over their conversation, he figures that Gabriel would have just felt far more intensely guilty over his antics on the Hellnet earlier in the afternoon. Greg's definitely hoping that he doesn't have to convince him that his preoccupation with that mess didn't contribute in some way to how poorly the rest of his day went. ]
Apparently. I could have avoided the window, but it was either that or get stuck in a corner with the claws.
[ The window was already half-open, anyway, clearly making it the better alternative in that situation.
The slight stiffness to the way Greg moves is less about the fall - that will come later - and more about the persistent stinging pain from his wing that's hard to ignore now that he's slowed down for a while and doesn't have anything to distract him. Adrenaline does a lot to distance pain, and now that it's beginning to ebb it's much harder to hide it.
He heads straight for the shower, dropping his coat and shoes off at the door as he goes. The door is still open behind him, of course, because he's sure that Gabriel isn't going to be inclined to wait outside for him. As he shrugs out of his layers of clothes, it becomes fairly obvious that there wasn't much damage from the fall - there might be bruises later, but for now they're just a couple of sore spots that are faintly pink.
The wings are a different story. He's only letting them stretch out as he's stepping into the shower itself, turning the water on warm as he can stand it. His feathers are clearly ruffled, slightly out of place and overall slightly dirty from the trip through the hedge and the ground underneath, but the outer third of his right wing is a proper bloody mess. That, too, is mostly due to the failing from the fall spreading dark red stains, just starting to turn a bit brown at the edges, that stand out starkly against the white.
He'll continue to hold back any pained noises, quite determined not to let on how much it hurts even if Gabriel probably knows, and just wash up quickly while letting the water take care of all the dirt and blood. By the time he reaches to turn the water off they're clean once again, though there's still a couple of tiny trails of bright, scarlet red seeping through his feathers where the bleeding hasn't entirely stopped yet. ]
[Isn't it strange how Fate still has a hand in these things? If John and Sherlock had been limbo'd up to Heaven instead of Hell then Gabriel would more likely than not never met Greg at all. Maybe Sherlock would have come down here as a transfer eventually, but whose to say that things would have happened the same way?
Not that it's important now- events transpired in a way that Gabriel is very pleased about, and he's very pointedly not thinking about ifs and maybes. Not when he has Greg in the here and now, and in the here and now Greg needs him. Princess bounds up the stairs on Greg's heels, leaving Gabriel to shut the front door and follow more slowly.
He arrives when Greg is already stepping into the shower, the curtain doing nothing to hide the bloody mess of feathers. Like head injuries, wing damage often looks worse than it is, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Gabriel's own wings spasm in sympathy as the water, stained pink, drains away.]
You remember the watermelon thing? The shield stuff? Maybe you should practise that some more.
[Because okay, this isn't... as bad as it could be, although leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed, Gabriel is failing at keeping the concern out of his voice.]
I... I'd like to have a look at that, when you're out. I might be able to patch it up.
[Raphael was the healer out of them, but Gabriel can do it. And he has patched up Dean after Lucifer had used him as a chew toy. He wants to make sure there's nothing stuck in those wounds that will stop them healing, that might get infected. Greg's wings are beautiful, far more beautiful than anything else Gabriel has seen in Hell. He doesn't want them damaged, not only because it would cause Greg pain, but cause something so gorgeous should be protected.]
You don't often throw yourself out of windows, do you?
[ Usually Greg would flick most of the water out of his wings before stepping out of the shower, but here he can only do that with the uninjured one properly. It would honestly hurt too much to ruffle his feathers on the other side, and he's still doing his best to avoid those pained expressions. So he does the best that he can with it before getting out and reaching for a towel. Not for modesty's sake - he's really past the point of being shy with Gabriel in most ways - but just to start drying off.
He will stretch his wing out toward Gabriel, though, only with the slightest hint of reluctance. It's far less messy than before, true, but he's never wanted Gabriel to see him hurt - even knowing that it's fairly unavoidable in his line of work. Not that any job in Hell is without its' risks, but cops get picked on all the time. Even the corrupt ones come back in bloody and complaining on some days, and Greg knows exactly how much they'll do to avoid anything like actual work.
He shakes his head slightly at the mention of the shield thing. ]
It won't work on me. [ How he knows that, he can't say. It's just a feeling. That's not to say that he shouldn't work on it, of course, because it could definitely prove useful. ] And no, I don't often throw myself out of windows. I wasn't planning on making a habit of it, to be honest.
[ There should be a pair of pants, or at least boxers, on the shelf near the door - although Greg rarely relies too much on anything being in the right place if Sherlock has easy access to it - but he's not going for that just yet. The towel is enough, and if someone tries to barge into the room while they're using it, well, it's really their fault if they see something they shouldn't. ]
[ Gabriel passes a towel over- a clean, warm, nicely folded one!- something you never see in the Hive or anywhere outside of Little Eden, for that matter. He's got one of his own on hand, for when that wing is offered out towards him. It can't be left wet, not if it's injured, and Gabriel knows that while it isn't as good as just shaking the water out, a towel will at least get much of the water off.
Of course, seeing Greg in just a towel is a very nice experience too, he's not denying that. But he can admire that at another time, right now there are those patches of blood that still need his attention. And unfortunately, the bathroom is just too small to let him get a proper look. ]
I'm just thinking if you can use it like a wall, to keep someone away? I know, I know. We don't know. I wish the feather-brains upstairs had bothered to tell you what you could have expected. I mean, this stuff isn't exactly... the same sort of mojo I have.
[He smiles at the comment about the windows though. Somehow he doubted Greg would be throwing himself out of any more for a little while, at least those with thorny hedges underneath. He leans in, kissing the nape of Greg's neck and then pulls away.]
I'm going to need more space. And better light.
[Which means Greg's room. That's hardly a long way away though, and it was going to be a whole lot more comfortable, especially if Greg was feeling sore. Besides, Princess had probably already made herself comfortable on the foot of the bed. ]
This person who shoved you out of a window- or made you leap or whatever- what had they done anyway?
[ Probably nothing serious, or at least not serious enough to attack a police officer in the hopes of getting away. People here just seemed inclined to fight them, as if they have nothing better to do. ]
[ The bedroom seems like a good idea, and Greg won't even bother with clothes. He'll just make sure that he has a good grip on that towel before heading through the hallway, just in case. If anyone is home, though, apparently they're in one of the other rooms, because things seem quiet for once.
He'll settle on the side of the bed, not managing to hide a grimace this time as he stretches out the wing in question so that Gabriel can get a proper look at it. Instead of lingering too long looking at it himself, though, he'll set to drying his hair off a bit with that towel, idly appreciating the fact that it was warm when he got it. It's a small thing, but thoughtful. ]
Maybe... I'll ask them about it the next time I'm there.
[ There's something uneasy in his tone even as he says it. He does eventually have to check in up there, and he's been putting it off lately. It's necessary, there shouldn't be anything to worry about, but at the same time, he would probably be gone for a week or so, all said and done. But it's a long way, and there are those nagging uncertainties still looming.
He decides not to linger on that subject. Today has been long, painful, and stressful enough as it is, without adding anything else to it. ]
She didn't do anything. Theoretically. You know, before she attacked me. I was following a lead on one of my missing demon cases. Judging by her reaction, I'm guessing she probably had something to hide.
[ Whether or not it actually had anything to do with his case, it's hard to say. He'll have to talk to her again to try to find that out, but next time he intends to keep a reliable barrier between them.
It might have been better, he thinks, if that window had been higher up. Then he would have had enough space to fly rather than just crash rudely into those prickly hedges. His habit of wearing layers despite the heat had definitely worked out in his favour this time, seeing as it kept thorns and bits of glass from cutting into his skin, or causing more damage to his wings. ]
[ Gabriel sinks onto the bed just behind Greg, legs folding under himself and his expression unusually serious. You have to concentrate when it comes to wings. Really concentrate. He's glad that Greg is slightly distracted too although as soon as Gabriel reaches out for the man's outstretched wing, there's another spark between said feathers and his fingers.
Thank Dad he wasn't immediately reaching for the injured part of Greg's wing because that would have hurt like... well, Hell.
He murmurs something placating, something calming, as he begins to ease Greg's feather's apart, knowing how very strange it feels- like someone brushing your hair backwards. Still, once the feathers are gently manoeuvred out the way, Gabriel can see the cuts. Jagged, no doubt caused by the thorns and branches of the hedge, but clean by the look of it.
He takes a moment longer to focus himself, and as carefully as he can touches a finger to the first of the cuts. Blue-white light flares along the wound, and then skin begins to knot back together. The second little cut is nothing by comparison, he doesn't even have to touch it for the flesh to heal, just hovering over it seems to do the trick. And then he relaxes, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Greg's wings before combing the feathers back into the right place.]
Can you ask them for a full pardon for me when you're there? Joke, joke.
[He can't be serious when Greg talks about going up there. Yes it won't be long, yes he'll be back, probably with delicious goodies if Gabriel knows him at all but even so, it fills him with a horrible leaden weight, a cold dread that spreads through him. It's better to make a joke of it than seriously deal with it.]
Everyone's guilty of something. I bet you she's more involved than you'd think. But if you really want a lead, I can probably tell you where those missing demons ended up.
[He shifts, moving closer and wrapping his arms around Greg from behind, one hand resting on the scar lower down on his torso, gently tracing the web of tougher skin. Greg has so many interesting little marks, okay this one isn't so small, like the one high on his shoulder. But in comparison to Gabriel's unmarked skin, it's fascinating. Greg wears his life on his body.
He hopes Greg isn't expecting a serious lead, because this is Gabriel after all. ]
Ever eaten in the Hive? I bet some of those Casseroles had demon in them.
[ Greg knew that even the smallest scratches would hurt, it certainly stung for an unreasonably long time when a feather was yanked out, and it's not as if he hasn't dealt with pain like this before in other places, but it's been a long time. Honestly, when was the last time he found himself in a dangerous situation without heavily armed policemen clearing the way in front of him? Or at the very least, several armed officers fanning out through a building alongside him?
As high profile as his cases have been, his job rarely put him directly in harm's way, and never without back up. Sometimes it still hits him in a moment like this that things are different now. Even as careful as Gabriel is about shifting feathers out of the way, every movement radiates pain that only stops as those scratches disappear. What if he had been stuck in a corner? Back up would come eventually, but not before he was thoroughly mauled.
What he needs is a partner, really. They know that. They've been dragging their feet on it, in the grand LHPD tradition of ignoring issues they don't want to deal with, and Greg hasn't complained much about it. He doesn't want to have to contend with a partner all day that's going to ignore him at best, and make his life harder at worst. But he's starting to realize that he's probably being too stubborn about it. He can't count on being lucky like this.
He knows that Gabriel is joking about the pardon, even before he says that outright, but he really can't say anything to that. Not when he wants that to be possible more than he can say, to the point of wanting to ask about that, too, when he's up there. Not in such specific terms as to mention Gabriel by name, but... ]
I know they are. They're probably used to being threatened over all of it, too, when they've got a cop on their case.
[ He's not like that. Unless he has good reason to believe that they're actively involved in something especially destructive, he'd rather stick to the case at hand.
The embrace from behind is intensely welcome, and Greg leans into it with something almost like relief, letting his head tilt back to rest against Gabriel's shoulder. The absence of pain leaves him feeling sore and a little uneasy, definitely in no good state to think about what the Hive is putting in their food, but he's relaxing despite the unpleasant turn of his stomach at the thought. ]
I haven't, and that's exactly why. [ He doesn't trust anything outside of Little Eden, food wise. Not in the slightest. ] Most of these cases are ones where they've gone outside of the city. Usually involuntarily. They want me to find some kind of proof of that before they bother to send anyone to try to retrieve them.
[ Far easier said than done, especially when some of these demons have been missing for years. The reasonable assumption would be that they're stuck out there somewhere, but making that shirt leap of a conclusion just means more work for someone. Much easier just to ignore it until they eventually find their way back to the city one way or another. Or don't. ]
[ The LHPD are extremely lax about all sorts of things. Their general attitude seems to be worse than any office in Brimstone, and that's saying something. Weren't police departments meant to care more about their officers? Even if they didn't much rate the people they were meant to be protecting and serving, their own officers would far better, or so you'd think.
Greg has to get a partner. Gabriel would have suggested Milly, but the ex-FBI officer has Larry, the werewolf-hound already. And Gabriel can't work out a way to change that set-up. He doesn't know enough about how the LHPD works to try and interfere. Besides, he doubts Greg would appreciate it. He'll handle it himself, he's sure. In the meantime, Gabriel will just be concerned, and try to distract Greg as best as he can.
Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the pardon. It was going to be a sore topic. He can bet that if you mentioned his name upstairs they'd laugh you out the door. Gabriel has seen his Sin Tracker report. It was loooooooooong. He'd only skim-read the last fifty years, when he'd had a week off some time ago, and they'd even got him for jay-walking. Jay-walking.]
I guess after a while they just get a bit blase about it, right? After all, they're in Hell. You can't really punish them more than you are already.
[He pauses, and sighs as he leans against Greg, turning his head slightly to kiss Greg's temple. He can feel the unease, but there's not much he can do but offer what comfort he can. It's going to ache unfortunately, but at least now it's not open and bleeding.
It's probably best not to talk about Hive food. Or food in general for a little while. Which is a pity, because that's one of the things Gabriel finds most comforting, apart from Greg's company and Princess' wagging tail. But he didn't have them until a few weeks ago. Before then, it was solely food. And pranks, he shouldn't forget pranks. But pranks are probably not going to do it for Greg. He didn't think much of the tambourine in the dryer. Or taking the batteries out of every remote control in the house. Or replacing the coffee grounds with gravy powder. That last one had not gone down well...]
Ever been outside the city? There's not much out there. If you get up high enough, you can see for miles. [If you're confident enough in your wings. Gabriel was, when he first arrived, but he wouldn't try it now. Anyway, it's just wasteland for miles and miles, probably as far as a human eye could see. Why anyone would go out there, Gabriel doesn't know.]
At least you're home now. Tomorrow's another day. Maybe something will turn up. And even if it doesn't, you know it's like that sometimes. You can go for a long time without leads, but you'll get there in the end. Especially you, of all people.
[And maybe you could get Sherlock involved. It might stop him going mad with nothing else to do]
[ Honestly, the partner situation almost has Greg wondering if he should try to do some networking up in Heaven. That seems like a long shot, though, and the Reform Branch would probably much rather have him working with a demon. That would be poster material for them.
It's something he'll have to deal with. The case, too, is something that he will probably stare at the ceiling in the dark thinking about at some point tonight when he should be sleeping. Right now he doesn't want to dwell on any of that - the current cases in front of him, the frustration with the Hellnet (he doesn't feel inclined to even look at his phone right now unless he gets an actual text or call), and definitely not the problems that loom ahead in the future.
He's not even too concerned with the soreness of his wings, or the ache in his back that will no doubt be too stiff in the morning. He's just tired. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow he'll drag himself out of bed and get to work on the house and the garden, the soreness will work itself out eventually, catch up on the paperwork he didn't do today, and think more about this partner business. He'll roll his eyes at Sherlock when he comes drifting through the kitchen in a sheet. He'll try to talk to John about the whole 'stalker' issue, and see if there's anything else he can find out about that.
Right now he's just tired, physically and mentally, and just leaning back against Gabriel - really they're leaning against each other more or less equally at the moment - is enough to ease that, the the affectionate kiss only reinforces that feeling. Still, it's difficult not to feel a little too selfish for giving into that exhaustion, even though he's sure that Gabriel would never dream of holding it against him.
It doesn't consciously occur to him that the inherent guilt and unease of relying too much on anyone else, especially someone he cares so deeply for and wants to protect, is maybe a bit influenced by that gentle touch trailing across the faded but obvious scar beneath his ribs.
Instead he's shifting to prop himself up a bit more steadily, though definitely not moving away from that warm, reassuring weight against his back, his wings sliding back a little further until they're draped over Gabriel's arms and touching his shoulders. He's just settling so that he's properly supporting his own weight again. ]
I haven't been outside the city proper, no. I've seen it from the outskirts, but I've heard that some nasty things lurk around out there. [ The city is, compared to London, pretty terrible, but it's still a city. As terrible at it might be, it is kind of his home now ]
I know. I'm not worried about it.
[ He's not. Stressed, probably, but even that is kind of distant in this particular moment. ]
[ And that just proves that Gabriel is right in his own estimations of Heaven and Blue Sky or whatever it is they are calling themselves. If they want a poster boy, they should be making sure he isn't getting forced outside of windows by witnesses, that the job isn't threatening to overwhelm him. They should be supporting him if they want this to be a PR stunt. It makes Gabriel so angry his teeth grit together and grind. Greg does not deserve to be the pawn in between the twoing and froing between Heaven and Hell. He deserves much more than he gets, and Heaven probably knows that. It just doesn't care. Heaven never has. As long as the wheels turn in the right direction, who cares about what and who gets squashed under them?
Gabriel doesn't care where Greg's partner in the LDPD comes from. He just wants someone that Greg can be reasonably sure will have his back. He'd like for Greg to be able to trust them, but maybe that's too much of an ask. Somehow there's got to be a way of getting that and getting it soon. He might be damned, but he's an archangel. Maybe he can... influence things. He's messed about with paperwork in Brimstone before.
Tomorrow he'll have a rest, and a coffee, and a doughnut and a long hot bath that will work some of the tension out of his shoulders, and if he wants to mess around in the garden or in the house, then he can. He can distract himself with it if he likes, but he's not wearing himself to the bone, Gabriel is going to make sure of that. He needs a rest not more exhaustion.
Which is why Gabriel lets Greg lean a bit more into him. He's more than capable of supporting Greg's body- hells he's an angel, Greg's weight is nothing to him. But after only a few moments Greg is wriggling again, shifting so that his centre of gravity isn't so close to Gabriel's, so that he's not having to trust Gabriel to support him. Hmmph.]
What am I meant to do with you, huh?
[He doesn't sound exasperated, merely... dryly amused. Greg is as he is. He's never going to be happy depending on anyone else, not when he's cast himself in the role of protector, warrior, the one who will throw himself into the line of fire. He doesn't always need to be that man.
Gabriel's fingers move, gently, up over Greg's chest, tracing the lines of forgotten languages and lost sigils over his heart. Here most of them are useless, but it's the idea behind the shapes that is so important. He might not be able to fight Greg's battles at work for him, he knows he can't, but this isn't just about sex, this is about some sort of... equal and equivalent exchange. They support each other. Gabriel knows how that is meant to work in practice, even if it's difficult to find the right balance. He's damn well not going to let Greg shoulder everything when Gabriel is here to lend an ear.
But it is nice to have Greg's wings around them again, the softness of those flight feathers brushing over his arms relaxes some of the tension building in Gabriel, and he manages another string of kisses over Greg's skin.]
Worse than the things here, which surprises some people. But think about it later. Maybe the Harpy will give them something useful. [Other than a sudden need for stitches]
When's your next day off? Or two, in a row? We should do something. Not our... usual thing. Little Eden has a cinema. And a little tiny artisan patisserie. Maybe it might be nice to go out a little bit? Not on patrol and not saving the world and just... [deep breath, calm] have a date?
[ Greg's not worried about whether or not Gabriel can physically support him. He's sure that he's perfectly physically capable of it, and willing, too. He's just so used to having to be reliable, to be the one that other people lean on, and it's hard to let go of that. He can tell that Gabriel disapproves, if somewhat gently, from his tone, and while he doesn't understand exactly what Gabriel is tracing over his skin, it's not hard to get the general idea of it. Especially when it's followed by more affectionate kisses.
There's already some give and take to this. Gabriel takes care of him in ways that he tends to neglect if left to his own devices, and he's there to keep Gabriel grounded and to make him feel safe. Still, Greg is all too willing to sacrifice a lot to make that happen, and it's not really fair to act as if Gabriel would do less, even if that reluctance has nothing to do with his faith in Gabriel and everything to do with his own issues.
He's tilting his head a bit curiously at the change of subject, and he carefully slides to turn around as Gabriel is taking a deep breath and getting to the question he really wants to ask. It was pretty obvious from the moment he mentioned a cinema, of course, but Greg lets him go on, and is definitely smiling by the time he's done. ]
Sure. I'd like that. I've got the next couple of days off, and I didn't have any plans aside from doing a few things here around the house.
[ It might be a little odd that Gabriel would hesitate to suggest it, or at least to call it an actual date. This is definitely a bit reversed from the way that Greg is used to doing things, true, but he's not complaining. How could he when this makes him happy? He's thoroughly enjoying the time he spends with Gabriel in general, and not just when they're having sex - though he definitely has no complaints there, either. Gabriel makes him feel wanted in ways he's never quite felt before, and he can't really be bothered to be embarrassed about the fact that they're as bad a couple of hormonal teenagers sometimes.
He can ignore the soreness that's settling in through his shoulders and wings for a while, especially when his attention is now focused on reaching out to trail his fingers over Gabriel's jaw, thumb brushing lightly over his lips. It's meant to be an affectionate gesture, but it's undeniably sensual, too. ]
That and I was hoping to spend some time with you, of course.
[ It's hard to get used to, Gabriel understands that. This is all pretty new to him too. And while Greg has been the protector before at least, being protected is not something Gabriel has ever experienced in a relationship. The nearest his come is fending for himself in a relationship, physically and emotionally, and he was a-okay with that. This is far more complicated.
Lets face it, both of them have a lot of issues. It would be stupid to think none of them would impact on this, especially when some of Greg's issues are entirely relationship based. Still, that's not a problem. Greg and his issues and his adoration and his gorgeous wings and that smile that makes Gabriel's inside all knot happily are part of the deal, he can accept that. Even if it means he has to work a little harder to keep Greg's blood pressure at a healthy level.
Gabriel shifts a little, moving backwards towards the centre of the bed as Greg shifts so they are facing each other. Okay so he can't let Greg lean on him like this, and his fingers have to stop tracing over his chest, but at least he can prop his elbows on his knees, chin in hands to grin at Greg. ]
Good! Because... it would be nice. Not that I don't like the sex and the cuddling but... [He shrugs slightly, as if the motion will encompass all the other wealth of I want to know you better and I really like you and I want to know what you like so I can give you stuff you like or at least make it happen more often. Besides, after the last few days, Greg probably deserves some time to unwind
It's not really calling a spade a spade that makes him hesitate. It's the fact he's asking. He's not actually done much dating. Normally he goes from fooling around to living with someone, or at least raising whatever spawn they've ended up with, which is almost the same thing. Dating is a strange human concept. But he's watched enough TV and enough movies to kind of know how it should work. Really, he's more worried about being turned down.
Clearly that shouldn't have bothered him.
He grins brighter to Greg's hand strokes over his jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of his thumb. Greg, how do you always manage to fill Gabriel's stomach with butterflies? ]
I'd really like that. I think we need just... a while to ourselves. Without all of this getting in the way.
[ There will be plenty of time over the next couple of days - and the days beyond those, too - for Gabriel to ask all the questions he can think of, and there's not much that Greg wouldn't be willing to talk about. Some questions are more awkward than others - the origin of those scars, for example - but generally speaking he has very little to hide, and not much that he wouldn't tell Gabriel. Working his way up through New Scotland Yard and being around Sherlock for years has given him an entirely new standard for what constitutes an awkward conversation than what other people might be used to.
There will probably be talk of doughnuts, nice pubs where he can watch some kind of sport games or another, and almost-painfully-cliche-but-still-accurate long walks on the beach. Lately there's no place Greg would rather visit than the streets of London - and New Scotland Yard, of course, but that's not precisely date material of any sort - but he will always have a fond place in his heart for the beach and the feel of a cool, salty ocean breeze on his face. He has nostalgic memories, too, of little cafes and restaurants around the neighbourhood he grew up in, places he did take dates to, and he rather likes the idea of creating some new memories like those here in Little Eden.
It's a small thing, too, but having a proper garden again is something he's genuinely pleased with. He hasn't had much of a chance to focus on such little personal things in the midst of trying to settle into some kind of routine down here, but sitting here with Gabriel it's not too hard to think about a few peaceful hours spent planting some rosebushes out front, and maybe even a tree or two? It doesn't seem too unrealistic. Sure, there's always a chance that the entire place will get wrecked sooner or later, but that didn't mean that it wasn't worth having.
Greg definitely never would have expected Gabriel to worry about being turned down when suggesting an 'official' date. If it was just about sex, sure, it would be awkward - theoretically speaking, of course, since Greg hasn't really been interested in that sort of arrangement since he was much younger - but he thinks it's fairly obvious that he cares very much about Gabriel in general, and he can't help but want to invest more into this and see precisely where it takes them.
It's funny to think that he's here with someone he first met in the process of ransacking his kitchen. And that they really started to bond over a concussion. It's... possibly the most unusual way he's ever gotten to this point, but at the same time he finds it sort of endearing. ]
'All of this?' [ It's almost a rhetorical question, though, and he's still smiling as he says it.
He's tempted to lean in for a kiss as his thumb slowly trails on down to Gabriel's chin, and he doesn't want to ruin this moment with unpleasantness, but the gentle brush of his wings against Gabriel's arms, and the whole business of healing them has brought up a thread of concern that he's been increasingly aware of for a while now. ]
Now that you've taken care of my wings, would you let me look at yours?
[ There's an unspoken please there, but also a gentle sort of persistence. He's seen them, of course, but he's never had an opportunity to really look at them, whereas Gabriel sees rather a lot of his. He understands at least some of Gabriel's general reluctance with them, but, well, he has gotten rather intimate with them already even if he was distracted at the time. ]
[ Gabriel has no intention of asking painful questions. Not outright anyway, not bluntly. If they start talking about the times before, then maybe it might come up. maybe if they're laying here together tried and boneless without a care, in those few moments where curiosity is permitted but the pull of sleep acts as a shield, maybe then. Maybe then Greg can talk about the low hum of the city, the shadows made by the buildings in the dawn sun after a long night working a case, the way London beats like a heart. Gabriel can remember it, vaguely, although the London he was most familiar with burnt down a long time ago.
Maybe he can learn how much Greg loves gardens. If he had ever retired, Gabriel can bet Greg would have been the gardening type, the sort with a stunning yard filled with flowers, a carefully clipped lawn with a golden retriever basking in the sun. Of course, Greg would be the sort to continuously pop in to the office too, because you never stop being a cop.
Gabriel likes gardens too. He grew up in one. But it isn't his favourite. His favourite are the beautiful rolling gardens that he remembers from his days in India, brightness and light even at night, the smell of jasmine and the bubble of water. Instead of dogs, normally there was a tiger padding around Kali's garden. At least one.
It's strange where this has gone already, although this is Hell and much stranger things have happened. Then again, archangels don't tend to get together with ex- Met officers. Still, Gabriel is not about to complain, not when Greg sits opposite him with that smile on his face and it's all Gabriel can do not to sigh happily like some besotted teenage girl.]
Work, Sherlock, Hell generally. I know you can't take a holiday from eternity, but something free of distractions sounds kinda nice.
[He pauses, letting Greg's hand stray, and he can tell by the way the brightness in the man's eyes changes that something is coming. There's a slight tension in his muscles too, and the movement of his wings and... yeah, Gabriel can guess where this is going even before Greg finishes the second word.
His wings have been an elephant in the room for a long while. Lucifer had brushed them once or twice since he'd got here, but that was at his own instance and Gabriel had never let him do it for long. To have Greg make the request was... well, of course it was mortifying. He's seen them plenty of times now, but that doesn't mean Gabriel is comfortable about the state they're in.
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, wondering if he can just say no. Wondering how much it would hurt Greg if he did. It might dent the trust they've built up, make Greg feel unwanted and unappreciated and even though the man would probably shrug it off, Gabriel doesn't know if he can do that. They are... horrific to look at. There's no other word for them. But Greg has seen them already, being up close to them is probably not going to send him running for the hills, even if it does make Gabriel feel like a bum who lives under a bridge. He used to have some of best wings in Creation. After Luci and Mike. Now not even a city pigeon would have them.
He sucks in a breath, giving a slight nod and averts his eyes, just so he doesn't have to look at Greg's expression as the wings fade into existence, formed out of the dust motes in the air and the shafts of light from the windows. He holds them up, off the sheets, because the flight feathers at the bottom are burnt, covered in soot and dirt, you could probably pull them out and use them as charcoal sticks. The others... well, they're not as bad, some of them are just bent or brushed the wrong way, but there's a lot of missing feathers, patches of sore naked wing where only the stubs or the fine layer of down remain.
Frankly, being naked in the middle of Brimstone's offices would have been less embarrassing.]
I think they're probably beyond saving. Which is sort of funny, really.
[ Greg has at least a decent idea of the depth of what he's asking. It's probably a little bit unfair, considering he knows that Gabriel would have a hard time telling him 'no' at all when it comes to anything he actually wants to do, but he would never try to take advantage of that. He's spent some time now mulling this question over in his head, and now is probably kind of an odd time to bring it up, but then, it does give him something to focus on aside from his own sore muscles.
It's clear that Gabriel is thoroughly ashamed of that state that they're in and that he thinks they're horribly ugly to look at. Greg isn't sure what Gabriel thinks he would see, if he was to let their gazes meet - aversion? Pity? Surely not anything like disgust. Of course none of that crosses Greg's expression as he studies them carefully. There might be an almost pained look in his eyes, but as broken and neglected as they are, he's still sees beauty in them, underneath the dirt and soot.
He's never asked if anything could be done to fix them, partially because Gabriel has been so apparently desperate to ignore their existence entirely, and partially because a good opportunity to just hasn't come up. He's still not sure by any means, but he knows now that he wants to try, if Gabriel is willing and able to let him. Just as much as Gabriel obviously wants to protect Greg's own stubbornly pristine and radiant wings.
He glances back up to Gabriel's face, briefly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, a bit confused at that observation. ]
How is it funny?
[ It's slow, very slow, and careful, but he will reach out to brush his fingers against the closest outer feathers - careful, as always, of the spark that tends to happen at first when he gets close to them. If and when Gabriel can manage to look at Greg's face again, he won't see anything like disgust. If anything there's almost a sort of reverence to the way he regards Gabriel's wings, and his hands are steady, his touch light and... loving, really, as he slowly slides feathers back into place, brushes aside dirt, and smooths out the rough patches that he can reach without moving. He's not really aware that he's all but holding his breath as he does it.
Greg's never even thought about the potential of being able to heal or fix anything with this angelic power that he's only just started to really make an effort to understand. It's entirely likely that he has at least some innate ability that he might be able to one day learn how to tap into properly, and it's also possible that it might respond to his quietly, but deeply emotional state here.
If he stopped long enough to think about it, he might wonder if he looks a bit ridiculous at the moment, still completely naked except for the towel draped over his lap, his own wings spread and curled in slightly, orienting - as usual - toward Gabriel, but his mind is very much elsewhere. ]
[Meeting Greg's eyes that first time isn't the worst thing that could possibly happen even if the hint of pity feels just like disgust. It takes a moment or two for Gabriel to recover from the fact Greg isn't horrified, that even seeing them so close doesn't make him turn away.
But Greg is one of those good people. Gabriel is actually 100% certain that if Greg was repulsed right now he wouldn't show it. Because he puts other people before himself.
When he first hesitantly touches Gabriel’s feathers there's a tiny shiver. He can't help that, they are still so highly sensitive even in this poor state that he can't resist leaning in a little. Besides as Greg's fingers comb through and the dirt falls away, they feel a little better.
Of course all the dirt and the dead feathers end up on the bedsheets but not for long. Gabriel is careful to glare those into oblivion.
Then his attention can go back to Greg. He can't meet his eye again and explain that last comment - that it's not really funny but his wings, like him are beyond redemption. It'll probably just upset Greg and it wouldn't do Gabe any good either. ]
Thank you. For offering. I shouldn't ever have let them get this bad but... but once they were... like this, there didn't seem any point in doing anything.
[Because it had depressed him. It had depressed him so much he'd started just to pretend the problem wasn't there. Because that was easier.
He relaxes a little more as a warm safe feeling that spreads through his wings. For a moment he confuses it with contentment, but that's not it. And it becomes very obviously not that when one of the larger bald patches, near to Greg's fingers, is suddenly unbelievably itchy.
And then new, fine quills are forming, small at the moment, only around the edges of the bald spot, but they're certainly there. He's unusually silent for a long moment, until the area of patchy wing is almost a third smaller. ]
[ Greg suspected that Gabriel's comment was regarding something about the state of his wings being appropriate for him in general, and the lack of a reply only reinforces that notion. He knows Gabriel feels that way, but hearing it would probably make him cringe.
Because what could he say to that? He doesn't dare breathe a word about hope, as much as he might be desperately holding onto it. This isn't the Hell Gabriel knows, the Heaven that Greg went to isn't the one that Gabriel was from. There is a lot going on here that Greg doesn't understand, and just the fact that he's here in this Hell is enough to keep that spark of hope alive. Maybe he doesn't have anything to say that he thinks could possibly convince Gabriel of the same, but maybe just the fact that he's here gives Gabriel something to hold onto.
He's just as surprised as Gabriel to see those little quills form underneath his fingers. He doesn't understand it, either, but if it's working, he's not going to complain. ]
I don't know. [ The words are little more than a murmur as he brushes his fingertips lightly over a few more displaced feathers. He won't directly touch those brand new quills, he knows how itchy that would be, but he will continue to work around the edges of other bare spots, still sorting feathers and brushing away sort as he goes.
Not every touch is strictly necessary to straighten bent feathers, though. Greg's fingers stroke fondly even over the ones that are whole and not put out of place. He hadn't really intended to go over their entire length like this, but now that he's started, it's hard to want to stop until he's gone over every feather.
Greg's not sure what sort of state Gabriel's going to be in by the time he's done, assuming he lets this go on. He knows that he would be in a bit of one if he was in the receiving end of this much attention, both emotionally and physically. It's affecting him a lot as it is to be on this end of it, though certainly differently than any of his previous experiences so far. ]
[As the feathers continue to grow in, Gabriel shivers. He used to molt every so often when he was alive, once every hundred years or so, and that was itchy and horrible. It had been the reason for some of his rare visits to a beach, because rolling in the sand had helped no end. The fact he was still finding sand in his wings a decade later had not discouraged him.
Thinking about the feel of sand scratching at his wings actually helps, a little, but it doesn't offer complete relief. Which is good, because he misses the way Greg looks at that moment, the sadness there, the desire to push on through because the grass would be brighter on the otherside, right? If he's stuck here, he's stuck here. What is it humans say? Worse things happen at sea?
He takes a breath, which is actually far shakier than he realised it would be, but there are those fingers still combing through his wings. Not combing now, caressing. It feels nice, it really does and it's very difficult to keep his eyes open- they want to slide closed like a contented cat's. Of course, the longer Greg does this, the more content Gabriel will get. Although perhaps content is the wrong word.]
I'm pretty sure it's you. Don't stop.
[The wing Greg is focused on at the moment looks so much better, not perfect but certainly less threadbare. They might even look... well, half-way decent, until you get up close. They feel so much better. It's as if they had been weighing him down but that has slowly started to lift and maybe...
You know, maybe Greg is right to hope. Things can change, right? Who knows what might happen. Maybe you get let off eternity in Hell after a few thousand years good behaviour. Maybe even less, if you know people who know people.
He shuffles closer. It's not easy, sat like this on the bed, but it doesn't matter. He can lean in and rest his head on Greg's shoulder, letting a little happy noise escape him. It's one of those moments where everything is okay, and existence seems easy. Which is why Gabriel has to interrupt it with more talking. ]
Can I ask you something? You don't have to ask, I just... want to know. What did you used to do, when you had days off? Back in the world?
[ Getting these wings back to something like their normal state is going to take time, Greg doesn't doubt that. Several years of neglect can't be overcome in one day, he thinks, especially not by someone like him who doesn't really know what he's doing. At least, not consciously, though he can't deny feeling moved by instincts that he still doesn't understand. It's the same sort of thing that makes his wings so expressive in general, moving them before he even thinks about doing it, as if he's had them for a much longer time than he actually has.
If Gabriel's telling him not to stop, he definitely won't. He'll work his way over the other wing, too, until he's probably literally touched every feather in Gabriel's wings at least briefly, and hovered over those bare patches where new feathers are just starting to emerge. They won't grow in overnight, of course, but they will in time. Greg is going to look after them, after all.
As Gabriel shuffles closer, Greg's arms will slide around him, and unsurprisingly his wings do the same. The white feathers are gentle against those newly preened darker ones, but they will stretch around and curl protectively around them, trying to pull them in close in a way that reminds Greg of that time not so long ago when Gabriel's wings stretched protectively around him. In a strange way, he almost wonders if he has any right to do all of this - he's not an angel, not really, right? He can probably be forgiven a bit of transgression in helping to heal what is broken, at least. Maybe he can't really be blamed for trying to shield those patched wings for as long as he can, regardless of what he is. Or isn't.
He lets his temple rest very lightly against Gabriel's cheek for a moment, a gesture that's affectionate rather than trying to lean on him. He does smile at the questions, amused as he actually thinks about it. It's probably not as exciting as Gabriel might have hoped, but he really had so little time off, generally. Sure, he'd manage a vacation now and then, but outside of that... ]
Usually? Laundry. Buying groceries. Cleaning up around the flat and working on the garden. Sometimes I'd even get out to a pub and manage to catch an entire game of rugby before my phone started going off.
[ 'Work' encompassed so much of his life, even more so after his last divorce. He didn't quite realise exactly how much so until he died, and suddenly he didn't have a job anymore. ]
That happened a lot, too. It's felt kind of strange, to be honest, that I haven't woken up in the middle of the night to my phone ringing in so long.
[Getting them looking anywhere decent is going to take a long time, Greg is right about that. But getting the worst of the dirt and debris out of them has done no end of good. Especially to Gabriel's mindset. Greg seems to have started a ball rolling here, because his hopefulness is certainly contagious. Maybe if Gabriel himself was a bit more pro-active, maybe if he bothered to spend as much time looking after his wings as he should, then they'd continue to get better? Maybe they'd even look as good as they did when he got down here? It's possible, after all.
Besides, the more time he spends in Little Eden with Greg, the less time he's in the stifling heat of town, and he's pretty sure the heat and dryness of the air has what made his wings start to burn in the first place. And if Greg's going to look after them too, well... Gabriel really won't mind that at all.
Honestly, Greg is an angel. Gabriel would regret his "dead human with wings" comment if he knew how much Greg had taken it on board. He's just as deserving, possibly more deserving of the title than Gabriel is, at least if you take what they're doing presently into the equation. Greg is actively doing all those things humans believe angels do- protecting and safeguarding, loving and performing little miracles. Gabriel? He's eating candy and playing with dogs.
All that aside, Gabriel wants Greg to do this, he likes it when those gorgeous wings curl around him; he likes feeling safe and close to Greg, able to feel his breath across his skin. It's... it's good. There are better words, but Gabriel can't think of their English equivalents at that moment. He's too happy to have to think of words.
As Greg speaks, Gabriel finds himself smiling again, eyes closing.] That sounds pretty good. Pub and rugby, not the laundry. That sounds boring.
[Rugby. Gabriel liked rugby. No doubt it was the mix of well-built men in shorts and violence that appealed to him, but there wasn't anything quite like that in Hell. The nearest sport was more like American Football. But maybe they could get good enough reception in Little Eden to catch a game. He'd have to find out when Greg was out, and maybe that would be a nice surprise at some point.]
Got to tell you, I'm sort of glad no one is ringing you at all hours. That would cut into the time you're mine. They can have you for pre-agreed shifts only.
[And that's when Gabriel shifts to kiss the nearest bit of Greg his hand, which happens to be the edge of his jaw.]
[ The next time Greg goes in for a shower, Gabriel is definitely going to be dragged in with him so that he can properly wash off any of the remaining dirt and soot. The clean water will be good for them, Greg thinks, and he's aware that he probably doesn't want to know long it's been since they were washed off like that. Now that Gabriel has let Greg start this, he should know that there's no stopping it. He's going to make it a point from now on to make sure that they're taken care of, an effort which he suspects that Gabriel will help with now that he's got good reasons to hope.
If Greg's fond, gentle attention to them wasn't enough on its' own, there are always the very visible new feathers starting to form that can remind him of this even when Greg isn't around. It will definitely make him happy if Gabriel catches onto his sense of hope, even if he would have a hard time explaining exactly how he can hold onto it so tightly. Still.
It's entirely possible that one of these days the 'dead human with wings' thing will come up again, because Greg really has taken in on board in a very major way. Not at all just because of Gabriel, though he probably won't admit that he took it more to heart from Gabriel than anyone else. It's much larger than just that, though. It's not actually an uncommon sentiment. Greg definitely didn't down here looking for a sense of camaraderie, of course, but even in Heaven he had... mixed feelings about being there. He doesn't feel like he's one of them, but he doesn't belong here, either. He can't blame anyone in general for pointing out the obvious.
At least in moments like this, he doesn't worry about what he is, or where he fits into the grand scheme of things. It's just the two of them, wings curled in together and bodies close, and it doesn't matter who they are, or where they are. Not really. ]
It was boring, but it had to be done.
[ Being human was all about doing those little boring day to day things, many of which he still goes through these days even if he doesn't really have to anymore. His routine was a bit different back when he was married, but he had gotten used to living the single life long before he actually died.
Getting into a sport of any sort that isn't a thinly disguised bloodbath would probably be something Greg would like. He's been hesitant to even look into such things, given those tendencies, but it's possible that there are such things out there. The idea of being able to catch up with a game from the living world hasn't occurred to him at all. ]
I'm still yours even when I'm stuck at work. [ He just smiles at the rest of it. He's sure that one day there will be at least some people that will be ringing him at all hours again. He knows what the point was, though, and admittedly work tends to cut into enough of their time together as it is.
Not right now, though. Right now there's nothing to stop him from shifting at that kiss so that he can tilt his head to catch Gabriel's lips in a proper kiss - it doesn't even start particularly slow, there's too much emotion and passion that have been building up over the past several minutes, lurking just beneath the surface up until this point. ]
[ You know what's going to happen when you try to drag Gabriel into a shower Greg. It might start out all innocent and "washing the soot out" but then there will be suds and skin on skin and hungry kisses and Gabriel is going to end up against those cold tiles. Not that he minds, not at all. Gabriel has always avoided getting his wings wet though, if only because his don't seem to dry as nicely or as quickly once they're sodden. But Greg will no doubt see to it they're very carefully dried, lovingly so. Gabriel really hasn't got any reason to complain.
He should never have listened to what Gabriel said then. It was just a bitter remark in passing, made before they knew each other. Gabriel didn't like Little Eden, the concept still doesn't sit well with him, and it was a cruel thing to say to a man who had done nothing to him and only showed him kindness and understanding. It will clearly be one of those things that Gabriel always regrets saying.
Luckily for Gabriel those thoughts only spring up in the middle of the night in the darkness when he doesn't sleep. It's just a pity he rarely sleeps. Still, Greg provides a wonderful distraction right now. In fact, Greg is always a perfect distraction from everything that's horrible. Here everything is perfect, or as near to perfect as it can ever be. ]
Of course. The sight of you shirtless would have been too distracting for everyone else.
[ That's why Gabriel would never have been a good human. Washing up, laundry, hoovering? No thank you. Those things sort themselves out- normally because he wills it so, or because some poor sap has already done it. At least he cleans up after himself when he makes breakfast, and when dirty clothes get taken off in Greg's house they end up clean and pressed and back in Greg's closet by morning? He does try to earn his keep in that regard.
Rugby isn't even thinly disguised. Well, some of it isn't. Gabriel's always preferred League rugby, because there's nothing in the rules about biting the opposite team, but he'll watch Union where biting is banned if Greg prefers.]
Hmm, but there I have to share you. There's paperwork and... bad guys and distractions.
[Distractions from things like this, the touch of lips suddenly hot and needy, like a switch had been flicked on. Gabriel's moving, wings shuddering as they open further, to balance them as he moves to better to lean in and kiss Greg back properly, his hands moving over Greg's bare skin. It's really not fair, for Greg to still be naked and Gabriel to be fully dressed. But that can be fixed later, right now there's just the kiss and the desire to be as close to Greg as he can be.]
[ Greg does, indeed, know what will happen if he drags Gabriel into the shower, even with a fairly innocent intent. There's nothing wrong with that, either, though Sherlock tends to get rather annoyed with being locked out of the bathroom. He'll just have to live with the fact that they'll need more time to deal with Gabriel's wings... and, inevitably, for other things as well.
Wet feathers are almost unbearably heavy, but the water is fairly essential when it comes to washing off all the dirt that tends to collect on them, and it helps keep them from getting too dried out. Greg has gotten a lot of practice at dealing with his own so far, so he's a little more confident about extending that care to Gabriel's, too. Gabriel has seen him more than once, after all, carefully preening through his feathers after a shower, drying and aligning them properly again, while looking for any loose ones that need to come out. Just smoothing them out regularly seems to do a lot toward keeping them in good shape.
Now he wonders a bit if there's something more to do with it, something to do with that mostly untapped and unrefined power of it. It's a thought. But the point is, if he can do it with his own, he can do it with Gabriel's, too, and that makes him... actually rather happy.
There is definitely a lot to Little Eden that doesn't make sense, and plenty of reasons for people to hate it, along with everyone who lives in it. Greg knew that before he'd even stepped foot in Little Hades. It will take some convincing, one of these days, to get Greg to truly accept the fact that him having wings and strange angelic powers isn't just some kind of joke, or at the very least a severe overestimation of who and what he is.
But that will be a conversation for another time. Later on they can talk about rugby, too, but now here is kissing, and Gabriel's hands roaming over his chest in a very distracting sort of way. He's not too fussed about all of Gabriel's clothes, not when he's leaning forward into Gabriel's touch and his mouth. The hand that's not preoccupied with helping to prop him up on the bed is sliding into Gabriel's hair, tangling tightly there and pulling him that much closer into the kiss.
It's inevitable that one day he'll lose this intense, sudden edge of want, and it will mellow out somewhat, he's sure. That's just how these things tend to work out. Eventually. He's starting to wonder how long that's going to be, though, considering that he feels just as eager for Gabriel's touch, and all those noises he makes, as he did the first time. ]
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That is something that Greg feels as if he can help with. When his wings are wrapped so securely around both of them, he can feel that sense of peace and calm just as much as Gabriel obviously does. It's partially just in his nature, but he figures that the whole angelic aspect probably has something to do with it, too, now.
He's willing enough to let Gabriel finish the rest of that cigarette, if he likes. He's definitely smoked enough of them on the way over, taking a few breaths of relatively fresh air would probably be good for him at this point. ]
Not so much 'domesticated,' just happy, I think, but I get it. You've got a reputation to worry about.
[ It would be impossible not to smile at that. As strange as all of this probably is, as ultimately inconvenient as it might be with the fact that he's tethered, in a way, to Heaven, Greg has no regrets about any of it. He's not really worried, either, though he realises that one day he'll very likely have to make some difficult choices. Not just because of this, though. It was really shaping up to be inevitable from the start.
Then comes the questioning, and Greg sighs. Aside from the claws that dug into his wing at the last moment before he managed to stumble out of the way, which still hurts, unsurprisingly, he doesn't feel that bad. There might be a few bruises later on, and he'll definitely feel them in the morning, but overall it's nothing to worry about. He's had far worse. But Gabriel will worry, anyway, and he won't stop until he's heard the whole thing, more or less. ]
Yes, from slightly above. Out of a window. Look, like I said, that conversation really didn't have to be as hostile as it was, but sometimes that's the way it goes.
[ The problem with his wing is that it looks much worse than it is. That's the thing about those brilliantly white feathers, any other colour stands out so obnoxiously against them. Greg is reluctant, sure, but he'll talk about what happened, even if it's not a fun experience to relate. He would really rather avoid having Gabriel panic over the state of his feathers, if at all possible. It's worth a try. He's already eyeing the door. ]
I should... probably get cleaned up.
no subject
The cigarette is mostly gone now anyway, so there's no much point giving it back. Gabriel hasn't really smoked for a long time, not since pipes went out of fashion, and they never suited him much either. They 60s were different of course, everyone smoked everything back then.]
The sort of people who would call me domesticated don't care if I'm happy or not. [Crowley for one. But he is still smiling, because Crowley knows better than to try anything with Gabriel.
Those decisions might not happen for a long, long time. Unless someone is attempting to force Greg's hand. Sherlock and John will be the deciding factor, he knows that. Where-ever they end up, Greg will follow. They came first. They're why Greg is here. And Gabriel... is okay with that.]
Okay, you fell out of a window, into a hedge, and- [Gabriel pauses, and then focuses, really focuses on Greg, and takes a breath] and you're bleeding. Inside. Now.
[Yes, Greg should get cleaned up. He should have mentioned it before now, but Gabriel isn't surprised, not really. He doesn't know how bad it is, but if the rest of Greg is blood-free, then maybe it's not to bad. He just knows how delicate wings are. How much a little nick can fester and spread.]
Princess! Come on, inside.
[And the little dog yaps in answer, picking up her new toy and running forwards as they move to the door, Gabriel stamping out the cigarette in the ashtray before following Greg inside, the little seed of worry growing a little taller as he watches Greg's back, the sort of stiff way he's holding himself]
This is Hell, if you get a chance to push a cop through a window, you take it.
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It's just convenient that Gabriel, Sherlock, and John are all on the same 'side,' effectively speaking. Greg can't imagine a situation at this point where he would really have to choose between any of them, not in any sort of permanent way, and he hopes that it'll never come to that. He'd definitely fight against that - bitterly, if he had to.
Greg is willing to take some scolding for not seeing to this sooner. He didn't want it to take over their conversation, he figures that Gabriel would have just felt far more intensely guilty over his antics on the Hellnet earlier in the afternoon. Greg's definitely hoping that he doesn't have to convince him that his preoccupation with that mess didn't contribute in some way to how poorly the rest of his day went. ]
Apparently. I could have avoided the window, but it was either that or get stuck in a corner with the claws.
[ The window was already half-open, anyway, clearly making it the better alternative in that situation.
The slight stiffness to the way Greg moves is less about the fall - that will come later - and more about the persistent stinging pain from his wing that's hard to ignore now that he's slowed down for a while and doesn't have anything to distract him. Adrenaline does a lot to distance pain, and now that it's beginning to ebb it's much harder to hide it.
He heads straight for the shower, dropping his coat and shoes off at the door as he goes. The door is still open behind him, of course, because he's sure that Gabriel isn't going to be inclined to wait outside for him. As he shrugs out of his layers of clothes, it becomes fairly obvious that there wasn't much damage from the fall - there might be bruises later, but for now they're just a couple of sore spots that are faintly pink.
The wings are a different story. He's only letting them stretch out as he's stepping into the shower itself, turning the water on warm as he can stand it. His feathers are clearly ruffled, slightly out of place and overall slightly dirty from the trip through the hedge and the ground underneath, but the outer third of his right wing is a proper bloody mess. That, too, is mostly due to the failing from the fall spreading dark red stains, just starting to turn a bit brown at the edges, that stand out starkly against the white.
He'll continue to hold back any pained noises, quite determined not to let on how much it hurts even if Gabriel probably knows, and just wash up quickly while letting the water take care of all the dirt and blood. By the time he reaches to turn the water off they're clean once again, though there's still a couple of tiny trails of bright, scarlet red seeping through his feathers where the bleeding hasn't entirely stopped yet. ]
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Not that it's important now- events transpired in a way that Gabriel is very pleased about, and he's very pointedly not thinking about ifs and maybes. Not when he has Greg in the here and now, and in the here and now Greg needs him. Princess bounds up the stairs on Greg's heels, leaving Gabriel to shut the front door and follow more slowly.
He arrives when Greg is already stepping into the shower, the curtain doing nothing to hide the bloody mess of feathers. Like head injuries, wing damage often looks worse than it is, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Gabriel's own wings spasm in sympathy as the water, stained pink, drains away.]
You remember the watermelon thing? The shield stuff? Maybe you should practise that some more.
[Because okay, this isn't... as bad as it could be, although leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed, Gabriel is failing at keeping the concern out of his voice.]
I... I'd like to have a look at that, when you're out. I might be able to patch it up.
[Raphael was the healer out of them, but Gabriel can do it. And he has patched up Dean after Lucifer had used him as a chew toy. He wants to make sure there's nothing stuck in those wounds that will stop them healing, that might get infected. Greg's wings are beautiful, far more beautiful than anything else Gabriel has seen in Hell. He doesn't want them damaged, not only because it would cause Greg pain, but cause something so gorgeous should be protected.]
You don't often throw yourself out of windows, do you?
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He will stretch his wing out toward Gabriel, though, only with the slightest hint of reluctance. It's far less messy than before, true, but he's never wanted Gabriel to see him hurt - even knowing that it's fairly unavoidable in his line of work. Not that any job in Hell is without its' risks, but cops get picked on all the time. Even the corrupt ones come back in bloody and complaining on some days, and Greg knows exactly how much they'll do to avoid anything like actual work.
He shakes his head slightly at the mention of the shield thing. ]
It won't work on me. [ How he knows that, he can't say. It's just a feeling. That's not to say that he shouldn't work on it, of course, because it could definitely prove useful. ] And no, I don't often throw myself out of windows. I wasn't planning on making a habit of it, to be honest.
[ There should be a pair of pants, or at least boxers, on the shelf near the door - although Greg rarely relies too much on anything being in the right place if Sherlock has easy access to it - but he's not going for that just yet. The towel is enough, and if someone tries to barge into the room while they're using it, well, it's really their fault if they see something they shouldn't. ]
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Of course, seeing Greg in just a towel is a very nice experience too, he's not denying that. But he can admire that at another time, right now there are those patches of blood that still need his attention. And unfortunately, the bathroom is just too small to let him get a proper look. ]
I'm just thinking if you can use it like a wall, to keep someone away? I know, I know. We don't know. I wish the feather-brains upstairs had bothered to tell you what you could have expected. I mean, this stuff isn't exactly... the same sort of mojo I have.
[He smiles at the comment about the windows though. Somehow he doubted Greg would be throwing himself out of any more for a little while, at least those with thorny hedges underneath. He leans in, kissing the nape of Greg's neck and then pulls away.]
I'm going to need more space. And better light.
[Which means Greg's room. That's hardly a long way away though, and it was going to be a whole lot more comfortable, especially if Greg was feeling sore. Besides, Princess had probably already made herself comfortable on the foot of the bed. ]
This person who shoved you out of a window- or made you leap or whatever- what had they done anyway?
[ Probably nothing serious, or at least not serious enough to attack a police officer in the hopes of getting away. People here just seemed inclined to fight them, as if they have nothing better to do. ]
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He'll settle on the side of the bed, not managing to hide a grimace this time as he stretches out the wing in question so that Gabriel can get a proper look at it. Instead of lingering too long looking at it himself, though, he'll set to drying his hair off a bit with that towel, idly appreciating the fact that it was warm when he got it. It's a small thing, but thoughtful. ]
Maybe... I'll ask them about it the next time I'm there.
[ There's something uneasy in his tone even as he says it. He does eventually have to check in up there, and he's been putting it off lately. It's necessary, there shouldn't be anything to worry about, but at the same time, he would probably be gone for a week or so, all said and done. But it's a long way, and there are those nagging uncertainties still looming.
He decides not to linger on that subject. Today has been long, painful, and stressful enough as it is, without adding anything else to it. ]
She didn't do anything. Theoretically. You know, before she attacked me. I was following a lead on one of my missing demon cases. Judging by her reaction, I'm guessing she probably had something to hide.
[ Whether or not it actually had anything to do with his case, it's hard to say. He'll have to talk to her again to try to find that out, but next time he intends to keep a reliable barrier between them.
It might have been better, he thinks, if that window had been higher up. Then he would have had enough space to fly rather than just crash rudely into those prickly hedges. His habit of wearing layers despite the heat had definitely worked out in his favour this time, seeing as it kept thorns and bits of glass from cutting into his skin, or causing more damage to his wings. ]
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Thank Dad he wasn't immediately reaching for the injured part of Greg's wing because that would have hurt like... well, Hell.
He murmurs something placating, something calming, as he begins to ease Greg's feather's apart, knowing how very strange it feels- like someone brushing your hair backwards. Still, once the feathers are gently manoeuvred out the way, Gabriel can see the cuts. Jagged, no doubt caused by the thorns and branches of the hedge, but clean by the look of it.
He takes a moment longer to focus himself, and as carefully as he can touches a finger to the first of the cuts. Blue-white light flares along the wound, and then skin begins to knot back together. The second little cut is nothing by comparison, he doesn't even have to touch it for the flesh to heal, just hovering over it seems to do the trick. And then he relaxes, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Greg's wings before combing the feathers back into the right place.]
Can you ask them for a full pardon for me when you're there? Joke, joke.
[He can't be serious when Greg talks about going up there. Yes it won't be long, yes he'll be back, probably with delicious goodies if Gabriel knows him at all but even so, it fills him with a horrible leaden weight, a cold dread that spreads through him. It's better to make a joke of it than seriously deal with it.]
Everyone's guilty of something. I bet you she's more involved than you'd think. But if you really want a lead, I can probably tell you where those missing demons ended up.
[He shifts, moving closer and wrapping his arms around Greg from behind, one hand resting on the scar lower down on his torso, gently tracing the web of tougher skin. Greg has so many interesting little marks, okay this one isn't so small, like the one high on his shoulder. But in comparison to Gabriel's unmarked skin, it's fascinating. Greg wears his life on his body.
He hopes Greg isn't expecting a serious lead, because this is Gabriel after all. ]
Ever eaten in the Hive? I bet some of those Casseroles had demon in them.
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As high profile as his cases have been, his job rarely put him directly in harm's way, and never without back up. Sometimes it still hits him in a moment like this that things are different now. Even as careful as Gabriel is about shifting feathers out of the way, every movement radiates pain that only stops as those scratches disappear. What if he had been stuck in a corner? Back up would come eventually, but not before he was thoroughly mauled.
What he needs is a partner, really. They know that. They've been dragging their feet on it, in the grand LHPD tradition of ignoring issues they don't want to deal with, and Greg hasn't complained much about it. He doesn't want to have to contend with a partner all day that's going to ignore him at best, and make his life harder at worst. But he's starting to realize that he's probably being too stubborn about it. He can't count on being lucky like this.
He knows that Gabriel is joking about the pardon, even before he says that outright, but he really can't say anything to that. Not when he wants that to be possible more than he can say, to the point of wanting to ask about that, too, when he's up there. Not in such specific terms as to mention Gabriel by name, but... ]
I know they are. They're probably used to being threatened over all of it, too, when they've got a cop on their case.
[ He's not like that. Unless he has good reason to believe that they're actively involved in something especially destructive, he'd rather stick to the case at hand.
The embrace from behind is intensely welcome, and Greg leans into it with something almost like relief, letting his head tilt back to rest against Gabriel's shoulder. The absence of pain leaves him feeling sore and a little uneasy, definitely in no good state to think about what the Hive is putting in their food, but he's relaxing despite the unpleasant turn of his stomach at the thought. ]
I haven't, and that's exactly why. [ He doesn't trust anything outside of Little Eden, food wise. Not in the slightest. ] Most of these cases are ones where they've gone outside of the city. Usually involuntarily. They want me to find some kind of proof of that before they bother to send anyone to try to retrieve them.
[ Far easier said than done, especially when some of these demons have been missing for years. The reasonable assumption would be that they're stuck out there somewhere, but making that shirt leap of a conclusion just means more work for someone. Much easier just to ignore it until they eventually find their way back to the city one way or another. Or don't. ]
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Greg has to get a partner. Gabriel would have suggested Milly, but the ex-FBI officer has Larry, the werewolf-hound already. And Gabriel can't work out a way to change that set-up. He doesn't know enough about how the LHPD works to try and interfere. Besides, he doubts Greg would appreciate it. He'll handle it himself, he's sure. In the meantime, Gabriel will just be concerned, and try to distract Greg as best as he can.
Perhaps he shouldn't have mentioned the pardon. It was going to be a sore topic. He can bet that if you mentioned his name upstairs they'd laugh you out the door. Gabriel has seen his Sin Tracker report. It was loooooooooong. He'd only skim-read the last fifty years, when he'd had a week off some time ago, and they'd even got him for jay-walking. Jay-walking.]
I guess after a while they just get a bit blase about it, right? After all, they're in Hell. You can't really punish them more than you are already.
[He pauses, and sighs as he leans against Greg, turning his head slightly to kiss Greg's temple. He can feel the unease, but there's not much he can do but offer what comfort he can. It's going to ache unfortunately, but at least now it's not open and bleeding.
It's probably best not to talk about Hive food. Or food in general for a little while. Which is a pity, because that's one of the things Gabriel finds most comforting, apart from Greg's company and Princess' wagging tail. But he didn't have them until a few weeks ago. Before then, it was solely food. And pranks, he shouldn't forget pranks. But pranks are probably not going to do it for Greg. He didn't think much of the tambourine in the dryer. Or taking the batteries out of every remote control in the house. Or replacing the coffee grounds with gravy powder. That last one had not gone down well...]
Ever been outside the city? There's not much out there. If you get up high enough, you can see for miles. [If you're confident enough in your wings. Gabriel was, when he first arrived, but he wouldn't try it now. Anyway, it's just wasteland for miles and miles, probably as far as a human eye could see. Why anyone would go out there, Gabriel doesn't know.]
At least you're home now. Tomorrow's another day. Maybe something will turn up. And even if it doesn't, you know it's like that sometimes. You can go for a long time without leads, but you'll get there in the end. Especially you, of all people.
[And maybe you could get Sherlock involved. It might stop him going mad with nothing else to do]
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It's something he'll have to deal with. The case, too, is something that he will probably stare at the ceiling in the dark thinking about at some point tonight when he should be sleeping. Right now he doesn't want to dwell on any of that - the current cases in front of him, the frustration with the Hellnet (he doesn't feel inclined to even look at his phone right now unless he gets an actual text or call), and definitely not the problems that loom ahead in the future.
He's not even too concerned with the soreness of his wings, or the ache in his back that will no doubt be too stiff in the morning. He's just tired. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow he'll drag himself out of bed and get to work on the house and the garden, the soreness will work itself out eventually, catch up on the paperwork he didn't do today, and think more about this partner business. He'll roll his eyes at Sherlock when he comes drifting through the kitchen in a sheet. He'll try to talk to John about the whole 'stalker' issue, and see if there's anything else he can find out about that.
Right now he's just tired, physically and mentally, and just leaning back against Gabriel - really they're leaning against each other more or less equally at the moment - is enough to ease that, the the affectionate kiss only reinforces that feeling. Still, it's difficult not to feel a little too selfish for giving into that exhaustion, even though he's sure that Gabriel would never dream of holding it against him.
It doesn't consciously occur to him that the inherent guilt and unease of relying too much on anyone else, especially someone he cares so deeply for and wants to protect, is maybe a bit influenced by that gentle touch trailing across the faded but obvious scar beneath his ribs.
Instead he's shifting to prop himself up a bit more steadily, though definitely not moving away from that warm, reassuring weight against his back, his wings sliding back a little further until they're draped over Gabriel's arms and touching his shoulders. He's just settling so that he's properly supporting his own weight again. ]
I haven't been outside the city proper, no. I've seen it from the outskirts, but I've heard that some nasty things lurk around out there. [ The city is, compared to London, pretty terrible, but it's still a city. As terrible at it might be, it is kind of his home now ]
I know. I'm not worried about it.
[ He's not. Stressed, probably, but even that is kind of distant in this particular moment. ]
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Gabriel doesn't care where Greg's partner in the LDPD comes from. He just wants someone that Greg can be reasonably sure will have his back. He'd like for Greg to be able to trust them, but maybe that's too much of an ask. Somehow there's got to be a way of getting that and getting it soon. He might be damned, but he's an archangel. Maybe he can... influence things. He's messed about with paperwork in Brimstone before.
Tomorrow he'll have a rest, and a coffee, and a doughnut and a long hot bath that will work some of the tension out of his shoulders, and if he wants to mess around in the garden or in the house, then he can. He can distract himself with it if he likes, but he's not wearing himself to the bone, Gabriel is going to make sure of that. He needs a rest not more exhaustion.
Which is why Gabriel lets Greg lean a bit more into him. He's more than capable of supporting Greg's body- hells he's an angel, Greg's weight is nothing to him. But after only a few moments Greg is wriggling again, shifting so that his centre of gravity isn't so close to Gabriel's, so that he's not having to trust Gabriel to support him. Hmmph.]
What am I meant to do with you, huh?
[He doesn't sound exasperated, merely... dryly amused. Greg is as he is. He's never going to be happy depending on anyone else, not when he's cast himself in the role of protector, warrior, the one who will throw himself into the line of fire. He doesn't always need to be that man.
Gabriel's fingers move, gently, up over Greg's chest, tracing the lines of forgotten languages and lost sigils over his heart. Here most of them are useless, but it's the idea behind the shapes that is so important. He might not be able to fight Greg's battles at work for him, he knows he can't, but this isn't just about sex, this is about some sort of... equal and equivalent exchange. They support each other. Gabriel knows how that is meant to work in practice, even if it's difficult to find the right balance. He's damn well not going to let Greg shoulder everything when Gabriel is here to lend an ear.
But it is nice to have Greg's wings around them again, the softness of those flight feathers brushing over his arms relaxes some of the tension building in Gabriel, and he manages another string of kisses over Greg's skin.]
Worse than the things here, which surprises some people. But think about it later. Maybe the Harpy will give them something useful. [Other than a sudden need for stitches]
When's your next day off? Or two, in a row? We should do something. Not our... usual thing. Little Eden has a cinema. And a little tiny artisan patisserie. Maybe it might be nice to go out a little bit? Not on patrol and not saving the world and just... [deep breath, calm] have a date?
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There's already some give and take to this. Gabriel takes care of him in ways that he tends to neglect if left to his own devices, and he's there to keep Gabriel grounded and to make him feel safe. Still, Greg is all too willing to sacrifice a lot to make that happen, and it's not really fair to act as if Gabriel would do less, even if that reluctance has nothing to do with his faith in Gabriel and everything to do with his own issues.
He's tilting his head a bit curiously at the change of subject, and he carefully slides to turn around as Gabriel is taking a deep breath and getting to the question he really wants to ask. It was pretty obvious from the moment he mentioned a cinema, of course, but Greg lets him go on, and is definitely smiling by the time he's done. ]
Sure. I'd like that. I've got the next couple of days off, and I didn't have any plans aside from doing a few things here around the house.
[ It might be a little odd that Gabriel would hesitate to suggest it, or at least to call it an actual date. This is definitely a bit reversed from the way that Greg is used to doing things, true, but he's not complaining. How could he when this makes him happy? He's thoroughly enjoying the time he spends with Gabriel in general, and not just when they're having sex - though he definitely has no complaints there, either. Gabriel makes him feel wanted in ways he's never quite felt before, and he can't really be bothered to be embarrassed about the fact that they're as bad a couple of hormonal teenagers sometimes.
He can ignore the soreness that's settling in through his shoulders and wings for a while, especially when his attention is now focused on reaching out to trail his fingers over Gabriel's jaw, thumb brushing lightly over his lips. It's meant to be an affectionate gesture, but it's undeniably sensual, too. ]
That and I was hoping to spend some time with you, of course.
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Lets face it, both of them have a lot of issues. It would be stupid to think none of them would impact on this, especially when some of Greg's issues are entirely relationship based. Still, that's not a problem. Greg and his issues and his adoration and his gorgeous wings and that smile that makes Gabriel's inside all knot happily are part of the deal, he can accept that. Even if it means he has to work a little harder to keep Greg's blood pressure at a healthy level.
Gabriel shifts a little, moving backwards towards the centre of the bed as Greg shifts so they are facing each other. Okay so he can't let Greg lean on him like this, and his fingers have to stop tracing over his chest, but at least he can prop his elbows on his knees, chin in hands to grin at Greg. ]
Good! Because... it would be nice. Not that I don't like the sex and the cuddling but... [He shrugs slightly, as if the motion will encompass all the other wealth of I want to know you better and I really like you and I want to know what you like so I can give you stuff you like or at least make it happen more often. Besides, after the last few days, Greg probably deserves some time to unwind
It's not really calling a spade a spade that makes him hesitate. It's the fact he's asking. He's not actually done much dating. Normally he goes from fooling around to living with someone, or at least raising whatever spawn they've ended up with, which is almost the same thing. Dating is a strange human concept. But he's watched enough TV and enough movies to kind of know how it should work. Really, he's more worried about being turned down.
Clearly that shouldn't have bothered him.
He grins brighter to Greg's hand strokes over his jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of his thumb. Greg, how do you always manage to fill Gabriel's stomach with butterflies? ]
I'd really like that. I think we need just... a while to ourselves. Without all of this getting in the way.
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There will probably be talk of doughnuts, nice pubs where he can watch some kind of sport games or another, and almost-painfully-cliche-but-still-accurate long walks on the beach. Lately there's no place Greg would rather visit than the streets of London - and New Scotland Yard, of course, but that's not precisely date material of any sort - but he will always have a fond place in his heart for the beach and the feel of a cool, salty ocean breeze on his face. He has nostalgic memories, too, of little cafes and restaurants around the neighbourhood he grew up in, places he did take dates to, and he rather likes the idea of creating some new memories like those here in Little Eden.
It's a small thing, too, but having a proper garden again is something he's genuinely pleased with. He hasn't had much of a chance to focus on such little personal things in the midst of trying to settle into some kind of routine down here, but sitting here with Gabriel it's not too hard to think about a few peaceful hours spent planting some rosebushes out front, and maybe even a tree or two? It doesn't seem too unrealistic. Sure, there's always a chance that the entire place will get wrecked sooner or later, but that didn't mean that it wasn't worth having.
Greg definitely never would have expected Gabriel to worry about being turned down when suggesting an 'official' date. If it was just about sex, sure, it would be awkward - theoretically speaking, of course, since Greg hasn't really been interested in that sort of arrangement since he was much younger - but he thinks it's fairly obvious that he cares very much about Gabriel in general, and he can't help but want to invest more into this and see precisely where it takes them.
It's funny to think that he's here with someone he first met in the process of ransacking his kitchen. And that they really started to bond over a concussion. It's... possibly the most unusual way he's ever gotten to this point, but at the same time he finds it sort of endearing. ]
'All of this?' [ It's almost a rhetorical question, though, and he's still smiling as he says it.
He's tempted to lean in for a kiss as his thumb slowly trails on down to Gabriel's chin, and he doesn't want to ruin this moment with unpleasantness, but the gentle brush of his wings against Gabriel's arms, and the whole business of healing them has brought up a thread of concern that he's been increasingly aware of for a while now. ]
Now that you've taken care of my wings, would you let me look at yours?
[ There's an unspoken please there, but also a gentle sort of persistence. He's seen them, of course, but he's never had an opportunity to really look at them, whereas Gabriel sees rather a lot of his. He understands at least some of Gabriel's general reluctance with them, but, well, he has gotten rather intimate with them already even if he was distracted at the time. ]
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Maybe he can learn how much Greg loves gardens. If he had ever retired, Gabriel can bet Greg would have been the gardening type, the sort with a stunning yard filled with flowers, a carefully clipped lawn with a golden retriever basking in the sun. Of course, Greg would be the sort to continuously pop in to the office too, because you never stop being a cop.
Gabriel likes gardens too. He grew up in one. But it isn't his favourite. His favourite are the beautiful rolling gardens that he remembers from his days in India, brightness and light even at night, the smell of jasmine and the bubble of water. Instead of dogs, normally there was a tiger padding around Kali's garden. At least one.
It's strange where this has gone already, although this is Hell and much stranger things have happened. Then again, archangels don't tend to get together with ex- Met officers. Still, Gabriel is not about to complain, not when Greg sits opposite him with that smile on his face and it's all Gabriel can do not to sigh happily like some besotted teenage girl.]
Work, Sherlock, Hell generally. I know you can't take a holiday from eternity, but something free of distractions sounds kinda nice.
[He pauses, letting Greg's hand stray, and he can tell by the way the brightness in the man's eyes changes that something is coming. There's a slight tension in his muscles too, and the movement of his wings and... yeah, Gabriel can guess where this is going even before Greg finishes the second word.
His wings have been an elephant in the room for a long while. Lucifer had brushed them once or twice since he'd got here, but that was at his own instance and Gabriel had never let him do it for long. To have Greg make the request was... well, of course it was mortifying. He's seen them plenty of times now, but that doesn't mean Gabriel is comfortable about the state they're in.
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, wondering if he can just say no. Wondering how much it would hurt Greg if he did. It might dent the trust they've built up, make Greg feel unwanted and unappreciated and even though the man would probably shrug it off, Gabriel doesn't know if he can do that. They are... horrific to look at. There's no other word for them. But Greg has seen them already, being up close to them is probably not going to send him running for the hills, even if it does make Gabriel feel like a bum who lives under a bridge. He used to have some of best wings in Creation. After Luci and Mike. Now not even a city pigeon would have them.
He sucks in a breath, giving a slight nod and averts his eyes, just so he doesn't have to look at Greg's expression as the wings fade into existence, formed out of the dust motes in the air and the shafts of light from the windows. He holds them up, off the sheets, because the flight feathers at the bottom are burnt, covered in soot and dirt, you could probably pull them out and use them as charcoal sticks. The others... well, they're not as bad, some of them are just bent or brushed the wrong way, but there's a lot of missing feathers, patches of sore naked wing where only the stubs or the fine layer of down remain.
Frankly, being naked in the middle of Brimstone's offices would have been less embarrassing.]
I think they're probably beyond saving. Which is sort of funny, really.
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It's clear that Gabriel is thoroughly ashamed of that state that they're in and that he thinks they're horribly ugly to look at. Greg isn't sure what Gabriel thinks he would see, if he was to let their gazes meet - aversion? Pity? Surely not anything like disgust. Of course none of that crosses Greg's expression as he studies them carefully. There might be an almost pained look in his eyes, but as broken and neglected as they are, he's still sees beauty in them, underneath the dirt and soot.
He's never asked if anything could be done to fix them, partially because Gabriel has been so apparently desperate to ignore their existence entirely, and partially because a good opportunity to just hasn't come up. He's still not sure by any means, but he knows now that he wants to try, if Gabriel is willing and able to let him. Just as much as Gabriel obviously wants to protect Greg's own stubbornly pristine and radiant wings.
He glances back up to Gabriel's face, briefly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, a bit confused at that observation. ]
How is it funny?
[ It's slow, very slow, and careful, but he will reach out to brush his fingers against the closest outer feathers - careful, as always, of the spark that tends to happen at first when he gets close to them. If and when Gabriel can manage to look at Greg's face again, he won't see anything like disgust. If anything there's almost a sort of reverence to the way he regards Gabriel's wings, and his hands are steady, his touch light and... loving, really, as he slowly slides feathers back into place, brushes aside dirt, and smooths out the rough patches that he can reach without moving. He's not really aware that he's all but holding his breath as he does it.
Greg's never even thought about the potential of being able to heal or fix anything with this angelic power that he's only just started to really make an effort to understand. It's entirely likely that he has at least some innate ability that he might be able to one day learn how to tap into properly, and it's also possible that it might respond to his quietly, but deeply emotional state here.
If he stopped long enough to think about it, he might wonder if he looks a bit ridiculous at the moment, still completely naked except for the towel draped over his lap, his own wings spread and curled in slightly, orienting - as usual - toward Gabriel, but his mind is very much elsewhere. ]
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But Greg is one of those good people. Gabriel is actually 100% certain that if Greg was repulsed right now he wouldn't show it. Because he puts other people before himself.
When he first hesitantly touches Gabriel’s feathers there's a tiny shiver. He can't help that, they are still so highly sensitive even in this poor state that he can't resist leaning in a little. Besides as Greg's fingers comb through and the dirt falls away, they feel a little better.
Of course all the dirt and the dead feathers end up on the bedsheets but not for long. Gabriel is careful to glare those into oblivion.
Then his attention can go back to Greg. He can't meet his eye again and explain that last comment - that it's not really funny but his wings, like him are beyond redemption. It'll probably just upset Greg and it wouldn't do Gabe any good either. ]
Thank you. For offering. I shouldn't ever have let them get this bad but... but once they were... like this, there didn't seem any point in doing anything.
[Because it had depressed him. It had depressed him so much he'd started just to pretend the problem wasn't there. Because that was easier.
He relaxes a little more as a warm safe feeling that spreads through his wings. For a moment he confuses it with contentment, but that's not it. And it becomes very obviously not that when one of the larger bald patches, near to Greg's fingers, is suddenly unbelievably itchy.
And then new, fine quills are forming, small at the moment, only around the edges of the bald spot, but they're certainly there. He's unusually silent for a long moment, until the area of patchy wing is almost a third smaller. ]
Was that you?
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Because what could he say to that? He doesn't dare breathe a word about hope, as much as he might be desperately holding onto it. This isn't the Hell Gabriel knows, the Heaven that Greg went to isn't the one that Gabriel was from. There is a lot going on here that Greg doesn't understand, and just the fact that he's here in this Hell is enough to keep that spark of hope alive. Maybe he doesn't have anything to say that he thinks could possibly convince Gabriel of the same, but maybe just the fact that he's here gives Gabriel something to hold onto.
He's just as surprised as Gabriel to see those little quills form underneath his fingers. He doesn't understand it, either, but if it's working, he's not going to complain. ]
I don't know. [ The words are little more than a murmur as he brushes his fingertips lightly over a few more displaced feathers. He won't directly touch those brand new quills, he knows how itchy that would be, but he will continue to work around the edges of other bare spots, still sorting feathers and brushing away sort as he goes.
Not every touch is strictly necessary to straighten bent feathers, though. Greg's fingers stroke fondly even over the ones that are whole and not put out of place. He hadn't really intended to go over their entire length like this, but now that he's started, it's hard to want to stop until he's gone over every feather.
Greg's not sure what sort of state Gabriel's going to be in by the time he's done, assuming he lets this go on. He knows that he would be in a bit of one if he was in the receiving end of this much attention, both emotionally and physically. It's affecting him a lot as it is to be on this end of it, though certainly differently than any of his previous experiences so far. ]
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Thinking about the feel of sand scratching at his wings actually helps, a little, but it doesn't offer complete relief. Which is good, because he misses the way Greg looks at that moment, the sadness there, the desire to push on through because the grass would be brighter on the otherside, right? If he's stuck here, he's stuck here. What is it humans say? Worse things happen at sea?
He takes a breath, which is actually far shakier than he realised it would be, but there are those fingers still combing through his wings. Not combing now, caressing. It feels nice, it really does and it's very difficult to keep his eyes open- they want to slide closed like a contented cat's. Of course, the longer Greg does this, the more content Gabriel will get. Although perhaps content is the wrong word.]
I'm pretty sure it's you. Don't stop.
[The wing Greg is focused on at the moment looks so much better, not perfect but certainly less threadbare. They might even look... well, half-way decent, until you get up close. They feel so much better. It's as if they had been weighing him down but that has slowly started to lift and maybe...
You know, maybe Greg is right to hope. Things can change, right? Who knows what might happen. Maybe you get let off eternity in Hell after a few thousand years good behaviour. Maybe even less, if you know people who know people.
He shuffles closer. It's not easy, sat like this on the bed, but it doesn't matter. He can lean in and rest his head on Greg's shoulder, letting a little happy noise escape him. It's one of those moments where everything is okay, and existence seems easy. Which is why Gabriel has to interrupt it with more talking. ]
Can I ask you something? You don't have to ask, I just... want to know. What did you used to do, when you had days off? Back in the world?
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If Gabriel's telling him not to stop, he definitely won't. He'll work his way over the other wing, too, until he's probably literally touched every feather in Gabriel's wings at least briefly, and hovered over those bare patches where new feathers are just starting to emerge. They won't grow in overnight, of course, but they will in time. Greg is going to look after them, after all.
As Gabriel shuffles closer, Greg's arms will slide around him, and unsurprisingly his wings do the same. The white feathers are gentle against those newly preened darker ones, but they will stretch around and curl protectively around them, trying to pull them in close in a way that reminds Greg of that time not so long ago when Gabriel's wings stretched protectively around him. In a strange way, he almost wonders if he has any right to do all of this - he's not an angel, not really, right? He can probably be forgiven a bit of transgression in helping to heal what is broken, at least. Maybe he can't really be blamed for trying to shield those patched wings for as long as he can, regardless of what he is. Or isn't.
He lets his temple rest very lightly against Gabriel's cheek for a moment, a gesture that's affectionate rather than trying to lean on him. He does smile at the questions, amused as he actually thinks about it. It's probably not as exciting as Gabriel might have hoped, but he really had so little time off, generally. Sure, he'd manage a vacation now and then, but outside of that... ]
Usually? Laundry. Buying groceries. Cleaning up around the flat and working on the garden. Sometimes I'd even get out to a pub and manage to catch an entire game of rugby before my phone started going off.
[ 'Work' encompassed so much of his life, even more so after his last divorce. He didn't quite realise exactly how much so until he died, and suddenly he didn't have a job anymore. ]
That happened a lot, too. It's felt kind of strange, to be honest, that I haven't woken up in the middle of the night to my phone ringing in so long.
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Besides, the more time he spends in Little Eden with Greg, the less time he's in the stifling heat of town, and he's pretty sure the heat and dryness of the air has what made his wings start to burn in the first place. And if Greg's going to look after them too, well... Gabriel really won't mind that at all.
Honestly, Greg is an angel. Gabriel would regret his "dead human with wings" comment if he knew how much Greg had taken it on board. He's just as deserving, possibly more deserving of the title than Gabriel is, at least if you take what they're doing presently into the equation. Greg is actively doing all those things humans believe angels do- protecting and safeguarding, loving and performing little miracles. Gabriel? He's eating candy and playing with dogs.
All that aside, Gabriel wants Greg to do this, he likes it when those gorgeous wings curl around him; he likes feeling safe and close to Greg, able to feel his breath across his skin. It's... it's good. There are better words, but Gabriel can't think of their English equivalents at that moment. He's too happy to have to think of words.
As Greg speaks, Gabriel finds himself smiling again, eyes closing.] That sounds pretty good. Pub and rugby, not the laundry. That sounds boring.
[Rugby. Gabriel liked rugby. No doubt it was the mix of well-built men in shorts and violence that appealed to him, but there wasn't anything quite like that in Hell. The nearest sport was more like American Football. But maybe they could get good enough reception in Little Eden to catch a game. He'd have to find out when Greg was out, and maybe that would be a nice surprise at some point.]
Got to tell you, I'm sort of glad no one is ringing you at all hours. That would cut into the time you're mine. They can have you for pre-agreed shifts only.
[And that's when Gabriel shifts to kiss the nearest bit of Greg his hand, which happens to be the edge of his jaw.]
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If Greg's fond, gentle attention to them wasn't enough on its' own, there are always the very visible new feathers starting to form that can remind him of this even when Greg isn't around. It will definitely make him happy if Gabriel catches onto his sense of hope, even if he would have a hard time explaining exactly how he can hold onto it so tightly. Still.
It's entirely possible that one of these days the 'dead human with wings' thing will come up again, because Greg really has taken in on board in a very major way. Not at all just because of Gabriel, though he probably won't admit that he took it more to heart from Gabriel than anyone else. It's much larger than just that, though. It's not actually an uncommon sentiment. Greg definitely didn't down here looking for a sense of camaraderie, of course, but even in Heaven he had... mixed feelings about being there. He doesn't feel like he's one of them, but he doesn't belong here, either. He can't blame anyone in general for pointing out the obvious.
At least in moments like this, he doesn't worry about what he is, or where he fits into the grand scheme of things. It's just the two of them, wings curled in together and bodies close, and it doesn't matter who they are, or where they are. Not really. ]
It was boring, but it had to be done.
[ Being human was all about doing those little boring day to day things, many of which he still goes through these days even if he doesn't really have to anymore. His routine was a bit different back when he was married, but he had gotten used to living the single life long before he actually died.
Getting into a sport of any sort that isn't a thinly disguised bloodbath would probably be something Greg would like. He's been hesitant to even look into such things, given those tendencies, but it's possible that there are such things out there. The idea of being able to catch up with a game from the living world hasn't occurred to him at all. ]
I'm still yours even when I'm stuck at work. [ He just smiles at the rest of it. He's sure that one day there will be at least some people that will be ringing him at all hours again. He knows what the point was, though, and admittedly work tends to cut into enough of their time together as it is.
Not right now, though. Right now there's nothing to stop him from shifting at that kiss so that he can tilt his head to catch Gabriel's lips in a proper kiss - it doesn't even start particularly slow, there's too much emotion and passion that have been building up over the past several minutes, lurking just beneath the surface up until this point. ]
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He should never have listened to what Gabriel said then. It was just a bitter remark in passing, made before they knew each other. Gabriel didn't like Little Eden, the concept still doesn't sit well with him, and it was a cruel thing to say to a man who had done nothing to him and only showed him kindness and understanding. It will clearly be one of those things that Gabriel always regrets saying.
Luckily for Gabriel those thoughts only spring up in the middle of the night in the darkness when he doesn't sleep. It's just a pity he rarely sleeps. Still, Greg provides a wonderful distraction right now. In fact, Greg is always a perfect distraction from everything that's horrible. Here everything is perfect, or as near to perfect as it can ever be. ]
Of course. The sight of you shirtless would have been too distracting for everyone else.
[ That's why Gabriel would never have been a good human. Washing up, laundry, hoovering? No thank you. Those things sort themselves out- normally because he wills it so, or because some poor sap has already done it. At least he cleans up after himself when he makes breakfast, and when dirty clothes get taken off in Greg's house they end up clean and pressed and back in Greg's closet by morning? He does try to earn his keep in that regard.
Rugby isn't even thinly disguised. Well, some of it isn't. Gabriel's always preferred League rugby, because there's nothing in the rules about biting the opposite team, but he'll watch Union where biting is banned if Greg prefers.]
Hmm, but there I have to share you. There's paperwork and... bad guys and distractions.
[Distractions from things like this, the touch of lips suddenly hot and needy, like a switch had been flicked on. Gabriel's moving, wings shuddering as they open further, to balance them as he moves to better to lean in and kiss Greg back properly, his hands moving over Greg's bare skin. It's really not fair, for Greg to still be naked and Gabriel to be fully dressed. But that can be fixed later, right now there's just the kiss and the desire to be as close to Greg as he can be.]
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Wet feathers are almost unbearably heavy, but the water is fairly essential when it comes to washing off all the dirt that tends to collect on them, and it helps keep them from getting too dried out. Greg has gotten a lot of practice at dealing with his own so far, so he's a little more confident about extending that care to Gabriel's, too. Gabriel has seen him more than once, after all, carefully preening through his feathers after a shower, drying and aligning them properly again, while looking for any loose ones that need to come out. Just smoothing them out regularly seems to do a lot toward keeping them in good shape.
Now he wonders a bit if there's something more to do with it, something to do with that mostly untapped and unrefined power of it. It's a thought. But the point is, if he can do it with his own, he can do it with Gabriel's, too, and that makes him... actually rather happy.
There is definitely a lot to Little Eden that doesn't make sense, and plenty of reasons for people to hate it, along with everyone who lives in it. Greg knew that before he'd even stepped foot in Little Hades. It will take some convincing, one of these days, to get Greg to truly accept the fact that him having wings and strange angelic powers isn't just some kind of joke, or at the very least a severe overestimation of who and what he is.
But that will be a conversation for another time. Later on they can talk about rugby, too, but now here is kissing, and Gabriel's hands roaming over his chest in a very distracting sort of way. He's not too fussed about all of Gabriel's clothes, not when he's leaning forward into Gabriel's touch and his mouth. The hand that's not preoccupied with helping to prop him up on the bed is sliding into Gabriel's hair, tangling tightly there and pulling him that much closer into the kiss.
It's inevitable that one day he'll lose this intense, sudden edge of want, and it will mellow out somewhat, he's sure. That's just how these things tend to work out. Eventually. He's starting to wonder how long that's going to be, though, considering that he feels just as eager for Gabriel's touch, and all those noises he makes, as he did the first time. ]
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