Chapter Text
“Next, Kevin Price!”
Kevin’s heart does its best impression of a triple salto as he steps forward and titters a nervous “Yes sir!” Back straight, head held high.
The Archangel barely looks at him, but Kevin’s used to that; they have so much more important stuff to do than assign a location for internships to fledgling angels. And so many others have already come before him; Kevin is barely a blip in the Grand Scheme of things. But a blip who has trained his whole life for this, and is more than ready for whatever they have in store for him.
“Right…” The Archangel leafs through a manila folder until he fishes out an envelope and holds it out for him. “Here’s your assignment. It’s a neighborhood with lots of crime so be careful, but that means plenty of opportunities to prove yourself. There’s a couple of devils stationed in the area, buuuuut…” The Archangel eyes him over gold-rimmed glasses. “They shouldn’t be an issue, now should they?”
Kevin nods, eager to get right to it. The sooner he can reach his quota of miracles, the sooner he can finally earn his wings. Oh, to finally be able to fly instead of just having to walk everywhere, to carry around a visual symbol of his inherent Goodness wherever he goes. That’s the dream.
He grabs the necessary paperwork the Archangel hands him and darts off. He remembers all his lessons from angel school, has brushed up on being unassuming to humans and the best ways to touch their hearts (both literally and metaphorically, though he hopes the former won’t be necessary), has a handkerchief tucked in his pocket in case he encounters a child with runny nose or eyes to dry. Those humans won’t know what hit them.
Because he is Kevin Price, angel extraordinaire, and he is going to be something incredible!
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o
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Kevin has never seen so many violations of the law within such a short timespan. There’s already 12- no, make that 13- instances of jaywalking, road rage, false advertisements, pickpocketing and a baby (a baby, the picture of innocence) glaring at him like he’s a pile of dogpoop. He’s a little scandalized, to be honest.
Needless to say, he has his work cut out for him. But it’s like the Archangel mentioned: the more dire the situation, the better it will look on his CV when Kevin finally manages to clean this whole place up! And that will definitely get him his wings.
Kevin hopes for big ones. Pearly white or shining gold, something lustrous that will get him noticed.
Well, those wings won’t earn themselves. Kevin rolls up his sleeves and sets up shop at the corner of a crossroads, so he has a good view on things. From here he’ll easily get to redirect traffic if people were to start shouting at each other, perform small miracles to get them to wish each other a good day. Because surely those little things will already put everyone in a better mood, and then they can start paying it forward.
Kevin’s standing in sort of a central spot, but there’s no need to hide. Humans won’t be able to notice anything different about him, of course. To them he’s just your average fellow human, so unless he starts making grand gestures with his hands or speaking tongues he’s safe to do his work completely unnoticed.
In light of that, he’s a little surprised when someone walks right up to him and starts talking.
“Why are you standing on the corner? Hoping to earn some pocket money?”
Kevin might jolt a little (not that he’d ever admit to it), but he immediately recovers. Barely turning his head he casts a sidelong glance at the person standing next to him.
He’s shorter than Kevin, having to crane their head up to stare at his face. Hands clasped behind his back, sporting a dark outfit with a glittery pink bowtie on his masculine frame, and what look like tap dancing shoes? Definitely not the decent and comfortable shoes angels wear.
Kevin gets momentarily distracted by the face. Peppered with so many freckles it sort of resembles the night sky, and eyes so blue they’re like little dancing embers, guiding lights to draw you in.
He gets momentarily distracted, so it takes him a beat too long to register the glaring contradiction to this innocently amicable display: this person has a tail, curling playfully at the back.
Devil.
Kevin snaps his gaze back forward with the intention of ignoring this newcomer. No horns yet, so it’s only a novice, just like Kevin is only a beginner angel. No threat, nothing to worry about. No threat, but definitely a possible nuisance.
The devil steps closer, and Kevin ignores him harder.
“Hellooooooo? No habla inglés? Parlez-vous français?”
Another step so he’s properly invading Kevin’s personal space (his head all but propped on Kevin’s shoulder), and that’s what finally breaks the facade.
“Leave me alone,” Kevin hisses out, shuffling out of chin-to-shoulder range.
The devil smiles, flashing sharp canines and dimples. The perceived cuteness is probably a front too, something to lure innocent souls to their demise. The better to corrupt them.
He happily claps his hands. “Oh so you can talk, thank Lucifer! Almost thought I’d have to get out the ol’ sign language handbook. Let me tell you, I have not been keeping up with that.”
Kevin stubbornly looks away, but the devil leans forward so he’s always in Kevin’s peripheral view.
“Hi, hello, I’m Connor McKinley, trainee devil assigned to this area. And you are…?”
“None of your business.”
But that only causes Connor to smile wider, like annoying Kevin is giving him pleasure. Which, it probably is, since annoyance is a negative emotion and therefore bad and evil and the devil’s already playing tricks on him. Kevin really just needs to shut up and ignore him, do his work, and then get the heck out of here.
“That’s a long name. How do you spell that?”
“Stop bothering me.”
Connor whistles. “Wow, rude. I thought angels were supposed to be nice.”
That successfully makes Kevin swivel his head back around, looking wide-eyed at Connor. “How did you-”
Connor snaps his fingers in Kevin’s face, eyes shimmering triumphantly. “A-ha! Made you look!”
Kevin frowns at the offending finger wagging too close for comfort to his face. He bats it away, and feels a quick thrill when their hands touch- angels aren’t really used to physically touching other beings. Not counting Arnold of course; that one would happily throw himself into the arms of whoever he crosses paths with. But touching a devil is probably a little like grabbing a burning coal with your bare hand, that’s why it feels so tingly.
“Are you always this annoying, or are you just here to make life more difficult for me personally?”
Connor sways his body from side to side, tail swishing behind him. “I’m just being nice,” he lies, because surely that’s a word no devil will be able to find in their dictionary. “And you still haven’t introduced yourself.”
Kevin leers at him. Tries to remember everything he knows about devils: what to look out for (tail: check, attitude: check), what danger they pose to angels (next to none, as long as you’re an angel worth the name), how to get rid of one (some ancient ritual that involves holy water and turning your head 360°, Kevin would prefer not having to do that).
But he’s also been raised with the idea that being polite gets you much farther in this world than being a sourpuss, and it is sort of maybe a little nice to talk to someone without having to pore over every word that leaves his mouth, so he finally relents.
“It’s Kevin,” he mumbles, looking away from Connor when the smile turns to a grin, flashing teeth (perfect pearly whites).
“Kevin…?” he coaxes.
Kevin feels strangely embarrassed. “Price.”
Connor juts his hand out. Kevin stares at it, waiting for it to burst into flame or turn into a snakehead and bite him. Which can totally happen! He heard about it from a classmate.
“Come on,” Connor teases, wiggling his hand, “you know what a handshake is, right?”
“Yeah I know, I’m not stupid,” Kevin throws back. “Do you really think I’m shaking hands with a devil?”
Connor retracts the offered hand, smile just a tiny bit more clipped. This somehow feels like a win. “You do realize that’s just for humans, right? Ever heard of a devil tricking an angel into a contract?”
“Still,” Kevin insists. He’s not just going to go around shaking hands with devils, even if they’re harmless trainees. That’s fraternizing with the enemy! Just imagine what the people upstairs would think if they caught him in the act; he’d probably just immediately get thrown straight into hell. Bye bye dreams!
“Anyway, can you leave? I have work to do.”
Connor straightens up, rubs his hands.
“Oh, but so do I. Race ya!”
“Wh- hey!”
Kevin yells after him as Connor sprints away at full-speed, shoes clickity-clacking on the cobblestones. Kevin can hear his joyful laughter trailing behind him, because of course this is just a joke to him. Devils don’t take anything seriously. They are the true bohemians, lavishing themselves with sin and finding delight in doing evil.
And they’re also all hot. On purpose, the better to tempt people to the bad side. Not that Kevin thinks so of course; he’s not gay. Just, from an aesthetic point of view. Everyone says so. Dimples and piercing eyes and butts in nice-fitting pants to better show off the curves. Which Kevin only notices because Connor runs weird, probably wanting to show off his “assets” that much more. Kevin will pray for him.
According to his teachings none of the angels are gay, because gay people go to hell. That’s what his dad always told him at least, and if his dad doesn’t know then Kevin can’t tell you who does.
With that distraction gone- which, to be honest, Connor’s barely a distraction at all, just a nuisance and a minor inconvenience- Kevin can once again focus on the task at hand.
Let’s get to miracleing.
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o
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Kevin doesn’t understand what he’s doing wrong.
He thought it’d be easy; start small so he can work up to the bigger things. But somehow the small things aren’t working.
He’ll whisper inspiration into some guy’s ear to have them bid a good day to a nice young lady, and suddenly the man’s on the ground while she’s attacking him with a handbag and calling him a creep.
He’ll give some candy to a child to brighten their day, and the mom has to call an ambulance because whoopsie! They have diabetes. Though Kevin does definitely perform a small miracle so that the ambulance will definitely make it to the hospital in time and the child and their mother will be able to laugh about this experience tomorrow.
He tries to stop a robbery in broad daylight by having the robbers suddenly want to turn themselves into the police, only for a fresh set of criminals to immediately show up and run off with what they’d been in the process of stealing.
All in all, it’s a… it’s a day. That’s all Kevin can say about it. Definitely not the kind of first day on earth he’d been expecting. The polar opposite, in fact.
Kevin is slumped on a bench in the park to feed the ducks when the nuisance finds him again.
“You’re kinda bad at this, aren’t you?”
“Shut up,” Kevin grumbles.
He tears off some spongy bread to throw at the ducks, but Connor grabs his wrist. Kevin immediately jerks his arm back, like he’d been electrocuted.
“You don’t want to do that,” Connor tells him in a very condescending tone.
Kevin instantly feels his ire rise. There’s just something about Connor that sets him off. “Why not? I’m helping the poor creatures!”
Connor plops down on the bench next to him, completely uninvited. Kevin makes sure their legs don’t touch.
“Bread is bad for ducks.”
Kevin eyes him suspiciously. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
“You’re making that up.”
Connor slings his arms over the backrest, completely at ease. “The bread fills up their stomachs, but it lacks any necessary nutrients. You’ll be killing them by overfeeding. Which I know is not very angelic.” He says that last part in a sing-song tone, an-ge-lic~
Kevin looks down at the bread in horror. It’s a baguette, and half of it has already disappeared into hungry beaks. He makes a complicated gesture to replace the bread with algae, and prays for the safety of these poor ducks. They really should put up a sign or something.
“Why are you helping me?” Kevin asks Connor, who’s busy inspecting his nails. “Isn’t that like, the opposite of what you are?”
Connor shrugs. “I mean, you performing a good deed or two doesn’t stop me from doing bad things. We’re in the same boat, you and I.”
“I would beg to differ,” Kevin snips, taking massive offence to this.
Connor lets his head lol to the side, raises a perfect eyebrow at him.
“Oh really? And what does a young starling like you know of devils, then?”
Connor looks Kevin up and down, and somehow that gives Kevin the urge to slap his hands in front of his chest to cover up. But devils don’t have X-ray eyes (as far as he knows at least), and he looks perfectly presentable, so there should be no cause for alarm. Connor’s just trying to mess with him.
“I mean,” Kevin starts, “obviously you’re a devil. You’re gay.”
“I’m gay?” Connor laughs, both eyebrows raised now. “What gave me away?”
Kevin gestures at all of Connor. “Straight people don’t look like that.”
“Wooooow.” Connor slow-claps, and that somehow makes Kevin feel like he just said something stupid. “Sharp eye, this one. Okay, I’m gay. So then, why does that obviously make me a devil?”
Kevin rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows gay people go to hell? That’s like, in the starter manual or something.”
“Is it now?” Connor’s voice is dripping sarcasm.
“It is.” (Kevin doesn’t actually know if that’s true, but surely it has to be.)
Connor props his chin on his hand and slow-blinks up at him.
“Okay then, Mr. I’m-so-smart. Then you tell me: if all gay people go to hell, why aren’t you down there with us?”
Kevin opens his mouth. Closes it. Feels like his brain just displays white noise.
“Um,” he tries, and Connor continues batting those long lashes at him, “because I’m not gay?”
“You’re not gay,” Connor repeats, but he says it like it’s an inside joke. Kevin doesn’t find the humor in it.
“Of course I’m not. Angels are straight.” Duh, he doesn’t add, because that would be a little too petty for someone of his kind.
Connor grins wickedly, and starts shuffling closer. Moving slowly but with purpose, and Kevin wants to hold his ground but all too soon finds himself reflexively shuffling back until he hits the edge of the bench.
Connor gets on all fours on the bench, playfully crawling towards him like a cat toying with its prey. Complete with tail batting left and right. Kevin’s stomach has decided to start ropeskipping with his intestines, and his heart is pounding away inside his chest.
Whatishappening.
Kevin leans back as far as he can while Connor advances, eyes half-lidded and knowing, smile teasing. He puts two fingers on Kevin’s stomach (causing it to jump) and walks them up the line of his torso, getting ever closer to his face until they find lips.
Connor places those two fingers over his mouth, and it’s not even anything that bad, just resting there, but Kevin’s completely frozen. If Connor wanted to kill him now, he’d be able to do so without any resistance.
Instead, he softly rubs his fingers over Kevin’s lips, moving from side to side as Kevin holds his breath and stares wide-eyed ahead of him. His face feels like it’s on fire, like Connor’s breathing hellfire straight onto his skin.
Connor pokes out the tip of his tongue and flicks Kevin’s nose, smug grin even more infuriating than it ever was before.
“Not gay, you say?
Kevin swears he isn’t.
Connor winks.
“Bet.”