Christianity (Modern AU) - Azazel/Raphael - Straight to hell
Title: Straight to hell
Fandom: Christianity (Modern AU)
Pairing: Azazel/Raphael
Wordcount: 1.107
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Ficathon God and Monsters by clockwork_hart1
Prompt: "And everybody wants to hear / How we chainsmoked until three / And how you laughed when you said my name / And how you gripped my hips so mean" for doreyg (Since you said Modern AU and "something else? IDKKKKKK" I just tried something and played around with it and hope the result is to your liking xD The prompt is amazing and really inspired me ... so yeah, thanks for that ... hope you're not disappointed xD)
The air is filled with smoke and alcohol, dull music goes under in a fit of laughter. There are four men in the corner of the shabby bar, the only visitors in this lonely place - not counting the shady bartender who is already used to gatherings like this.
“Raphael, tell the story,” Michael laughs.
As Gabriel pats his back hard, Raphael simply smiles and clings to the glass in his hand, quaffing off the golden liquor after a moment.
“Well, you know how it goes. I met up with him a few weeks ago in a bar like this and we got to talk about everything under the sun …” His mouth makes it sound casual, but in his mind he sees the pictures of a special night.
They shared opinions and alcohol, took turns in paying for the shots until everything was blurry. Their heads were clouded in cigarette smoke and affinity, chainsmoking until he ran out of cigarettes and Azazel laid an arm around his shoulder and pushed one of his Lucky Strikes between Raphael’s lips and lit it up, eager not to break the moment, the magic of this night.
And Raphael inhaled and grinned as he ordered another round for them, broke a sweat now (not from the heat and the humid air around them, but from Azazel’s arm that still rested on his shoulder as if it belonged there).
They sat like this until 3 AM.
“We boozed our brains out, and he laughed as he said my name.”
“Raphael!”
The sound of Azazel's laughter rang in his ears, bright and catching, daring and carefree, and stumbling against him Azazel put his arm back on the place on his shoulders (where it belonged).
Azazel pulled him in, blowing alcohol-breath into his face. “I really like to say your name: Raphael,” he said again and again, and Raphael laughed along as they tripped over their own feet and staggered down the street.
“He totally trusted you, didn’t he?” Michael snickers again and lits another cigarette. A Lucky Strike.
Raphael averts his eyes. “Yeah. Totally.”
He had not expected to like Azazel - the traitor, the selfish man that betrayed Raphael’s boss; the man he was supposed to kill - this much.
“I didn’t think it would be that easy. But it was the same night you finished the job, right?” Uriel chimes in.
Raphael nods suppressing a sigh.
The night was still young and sleep far away. “So where do we go now?” he asked.
“How about my place? I got some beer,” Azazel suggested, and the way his eyes gleamed made Raphael know there was something else he had to offer.
“Sure thing. But first I need some cigarettes,” he answered, heading towards an automat and looking for coins in his pocket.
He froze in the motion and his heart beat faster when he felt a tight grip on his hips from behind and Azazel's pelvis pressing against his.
“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” a husky voice whispered right into his ear, warm breath caressing Raphael’s skin. He closed his eyes and shuddered under the touch - demanding, hard and so promising. He didn’t answer, had no strength to form any words when he hurried to get his cigarettes.
“Let’s go,” he simply said, his voice rough and trembling.
Azazel grinned and nodded, lead the way to his flat, had no idea of the thoughts in Raphael’s head, about the internal struggle.
He had to do it. He had to. It was either Azazel or himself. The Boss would not allow any failure. Not of this kind.
All the while trying to fight the doubt, fighting the urge to find another option to save the traitor, he followed Azazel who suddenly turned around and grabbed his face, pressed his lips onto Raphael’s, surprising him with the best kiss of his life. The stubble of Azazel’s three-day beard scratched his skin, rough lips tasting of alcohol and cigarettes and himself as Raphael closed his eyes and allowed himself to forget all his worries, the reason he met up with Azazel in the first place, the reason he was even here …
He wished to stand here forever, to not go into this empty flat. Maybe he could avoid it then?
But soon enough the man he was supposed to kill pulled back and opened the door. “I’ll get us the beer. Go and have a seat,” he offered and walked into the kitchen.
“So how did you do it? Strangling?”
Raphael shakes his head. “No.”
Raphael’s gaze followed his target, and suddenly the weight of the butterfly knife in the pocket of his leather jacket was weighing him down, called his attention and reminded him of his job. “You have to do this,” it said. “Stop being a wuss. Get this over with and go home, it’s been a long night.” Too long for Raphael’s taste and not long enough, and he sighed and followed the instructions his head gave him. He walked into the kitchen, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.
Azazel turned around, two bottles in his hands. “So impatient?” he asked with that grin that would haunt Raphael in his dreams forever. “Quit this bullshit, Drama-Queen!” the voice in his head shouted. “A few hours ago you didn’t even KNOW this man, and now you’re vowing your eternal love? You’re pathetic. Do what you have to do! DO IT!”
“I’m sorry,” Raphael whispered, his lip trembling and Azazel’s grin fading.
“Oh … it’s okay, we don’t have to -“
Before the man could say another word Raphael pulled out the knife, flipped it open in a skillful manner and rammed it into Azazel’s chest.
The man’s eyes widened and the bottles fell to the ground, shattering like Raphael’s heart.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t have a choice. The Boss sent me. Why did you betray The Angels?”
No word escaped Azazel’s lips, only his eyes spoke. Why?
As he collapsed Raphael caught him, held him in his arms, all the while whispering “I’m sorry,” pressing his cheek against Azazel’s until it got colder.
“I stabbed him. Right in the heart,” Raphael finishes his story and takes a long swig of the beer in front of him, the smell reminding him of that moment.
“Yeah! Butchered him like the pig he was, sent him straight to hell, didn’t you?” Michael shouts and the gang keeps on laughing while Raphael keeps on drinking, swallows the beer as he does his upcoming tears. Straight to hell.
Fandom: Christianity (Modern AU)
Pairing: Azazel/Raphael
Wordcount: 1.107
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Ficathon God and Monsters by clockwork_hart1
Prompt: "And everybody wants to hear / How we chainsmoked until three / And how you laughed when you said my name / And how you gripped my hips so mean" for doreyg (Since you said Modern AU and "something else? IDKKKKKK" I just tried something and played around with it and hope the result is to your liking xD The prompt is amazing and really inspired me ... so yeah, thanks for that ... hope you're not disappointed xD)
The air is filled with smoke and alcohol, dull music goes under in a fit of laughter. There are four men in the corner of the shabby bar, the only visitors in this lonely place - not counting the shady bartender who is already used to gatherings like this.
“Raphael, tell the story,” Michael laughs.
As Gabriel pats his back hard, Raphael simply smiles and clings to the glass in his hand, quaffing off the golden liquor after a moment.
“Well, you know how it goes. I met up with him a few weeks ago in a bar like this and we got to talk about everything under the sun …” His mouth makes it sound casual, but in his mind he sees the pictures of a special night.
They shared opinions and alcohol, took turns in paying for the shots until everything was blurry. Their heads were clouded in cigarette smoke and affinity, chainsmoking until he ran out of cigarettes and Azazel laid an arm around his shoulder and pushed one of his Lucky Strikes between Raphael’s lips and lit it up, eager not to break the moment, the magic of this night.
And Raphael inhaled and grinned as he ordered another round for them, broke a sweat now (not from the heat and the humid air around them, but from Azazel’s arm that still rested on his shoulder as if it belonged there).
They sat like this until 3 AM.
“We boozed our brains out, and he laughed as he said my name.”
“Raphael!”
The sound of Azazel's laughter rang in his ears, bright and catching, daring and carefree, and stumbling against him Azazel put his arm back on the place on his shoulders (where it belonged).
Azazel pulled him in, blowing alcohol-breath into his face. “I really like to say your name: Raphael,” he said again and again, and Raphael laughed along as they tripped over their own feet and staggered down the street.
“He totally trusted you, didn’t he?” Michael snickers again and lits another cigarette. A Lucky Strike.
Raphael averts his eyes. “Yeah. Totally.”
He had not expected to like Azazel - the traitor, the selfish man that betrayed Raphael’s boss; the man he was supposed to kill - this much.
“I didn’t think it would be that easy. But it was the same night you finished the job, right?” Uriel chimes in.
Raphael nods suppressing a sigh.
The night was still young and sleep far away. “So where do we go now?” he asked.
“How about my place? I got some beer,” Azazel suggested, and the way his eyes gleamed made Raphael know there was something else he had to offer.
“Sure thing. But first I need some cigarettes,” he answered, heading towards an automat and looking for coins in his pocket.
He froze in the motion and his heart beat faster when he felt a tight grip on his hips from behind and Azazel's pelvis pressing against his.
“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” a husky voice whispered right into his ear, warm breath caressing Raphael’s skin. He closed his eyes and shuddered under the touch - demanding, hard and so promising. He didn’t answer, had no strength to form any words when he hurried to get his cigarettes.
“Let’s go,” he simply said, his voice rough and trembling.
Azazel grinned and nodded, lead the way to his flat, had no idea of the thoughts in Raphael’s head, about the internal struggle.
He had to do it. He had to. It was either Azazel or himself. The Boss would not allow any failure. Not of this kind.
All the while trying to fight the doubt, fighting the urge to find another option to save the traitor, he followed Azazel who suddenly turned around and grabbed his face, pressed his lips onto Raphael’s, surprising him with the best kiss of his life. The stubble of Azazel’s three-day beard scratched his skin, rough lips tasting of alcohol and cigarettes and himself as Raphael closed his eyes and allowed himself to forget all his worries, the reason he met up with Azazel in the first place, the reason he was even here …
He wished to stand here forever, to not go into this empty flat. Maybe he could avoid it then?
But soon enough the man he was supposed to kill pulled back and opened the door. “I’ll get us the beer. Go and have a seat,” he offered and walked into the kitchen.
“So how did you do it? Strangling?”
Raphael shakes his head. “No.”
Raphael’s gaze followed his target, and suddenly the weight of the butterfly knife in the pocket of his leather jacket was weighing him down, called his attention and reminded him of his job. “You have to do this,” it said. “Stop being a wuss. Get this over with and go home, it’s been a long night.” Too long for Raphael’s taste and not long enough, and he sighed and followed the instructions his head gave him. He walked into the kitchen, his hands buried in the pockets of his jacket.
Azazel turned around, two bottles in his hands. “So impatient?” he asked with that grin that would haunt Raphael in his dreams forever. “Quit this bullshit, Drama-Queen!” the voice in his head shouted. “A few hours ago you didn’t even KNOW this man, and now you’re vowing your eternal love? You’re pathetic. Do what you have to do! DO IT!”
“I’m sorry,” Raphael whispered, his lip trembling and Azazel’s grin fading.
“Oh … it’s okay, we don’t have to -“
Before the man could say another word Raphael pulled out the knife, flipped it open in a skillful manner and rammed it into Azazel’s chest.
The man’s eyes widened and the bottles fell to the ground, shattering like Raphael’s heart.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I don’t have a choice. The Boss sent me. Why did you betray The Angels?”
No word escaped Azazel’s lips, only his eyes spoke. Why?
As he collapsed Raphael caught him, held him in his arms, all the while whispering “I’m sorry,” pressing his cheek against Azazel’s until it got colder.
“I stabbed him. Right in the heart,” Raphael finishes his story and takes a long swig of the beer in front of him, the smell reminding him of that moment.
“Yeah! Butchered him like the pig he was, sent him straight to hell, didn’t you?” Michael shouts and the gang keeps on laughing while Raphael keeps on drinking, swallows the beer as he does his upcoming tears. Straight to hell.