Prompt: “I know. You don't like me. But your boyfriend, he does.”

Pairing: 2minkey

Rating: PG

This is a Good Omens AU, but no prior knowledge is required to enjoy the fic. ### denotes Minho, *** is Key and ~~~ is Taemin. 

XXXXXXXXXX

###

The Arrangement started off as an uneasy truce between two equally-matched opponents, but over the years – alright, centuries, but who’s keeping count? Not Minho – their frequent meetings have evolved into the highlight of Minho’s week. If they meet on Tuesdays, it’s dinner at the Hanazono, Ritz-Carlton; if it’s Thursday, like today, they feed the ducks at the Olympic Park. Key is fond of theatre, and Minho of football, so they accompany each other to plays and matches. Key is as frequent a guest at Minho’s penthouse suite as Minho is at Key’s little vintage boutique.

Angels and demons aren’t even supposed to be tolerating each other’s presence, let alone be making Arrangements the way Minho and Key have, but what the Higher Ups and Lower Downs don’t know can’t hurt them.

When he spots Key’s familiar figure walking towards their usual park bench, Minho waves enthusiastically. Key, as always, brings him with a bag of bread for the ducks. The little bastards who have been studiously avoiding him now swim up the bank and quack enthusiastically at the angel, who laughs and throws them a handful before sitting down next to Minho.

“Bad day?”

“Huh?”

“I could see your frown from all the way over there,” Key points towards the entrance.

“It’s the season…” Minho waves a hand around them, and spits out the unpleasant word when Key still fails to catch what he means. “Christmas.”

“I thought gift wrap was your idea? Weren’t the Lower Downs really happy with you for that?”

Minho shrugs. “True, but everyone’s in a good mood because of the holidays and with the recession, people are cutting back on the gifting and stuff, so it’s going to be a lean year downstairs.”

Key tuts sympathetically. A duck waddles over and dares to take a crap beside Minho’s snakeskin shoe. Key tosses the duck a piece of bread and Minho takes his revenge by disintegrating the treat before the duck can get to it.

“You’re really in a bad mood, huh?” Key purses his lips. “I can think of just the thing to cheer you up. I managed to get my hands on a 1989 Schloss Reinhartshausen Riesling just a week ago and I’ve been looking for an excuse to open it. We could have a cheer-Minho-up Riesling party?”

That’s another thing they have in common; a love for wine. Minho has a bottle of 1929 Romanee-Conti hidden in a safe place in his suite which he intends to gift to Key as a New Year’s present. Sadly, he has to pass on the Riesling for today.

“I wish, but I have a meeting with the management.”

Key laughs. “I thought KPIs were your masterstroke of genius? I distinctly remember you bragging about them in the… 60s, was it?”

Minho feels his frown intensifying. “Yes, but I didn’t intend for Hell to start using them. Ugh. I’ll see you-”

“Saturday? We could do afternoon tea at Angpang.”

“Cool. See you then.”

###

***

Key spends a good 15 minutes after Minho’s departure feeding the ducks and magicking away minor illnesses and wounds. Onew would be displeased if he’s caught – the senior angel believes in letting things take their course, because the course is ineffable – but Key can’t quite bring himself to ignore the suffering of living beings.

He takes the scenic stroll back to his boutique, taking the time to drop a couple hundred won into a beggar’s cup and watching with satisfaction as the passers-by around him are inspired to help the poor woman out.

At the corner of his street, Key notices a couple of dandelions poking up through the pavement. It’s late in the year for dandelions, and in this modern age they’re considered weeds, but Key can remember a time when they were prized by healers around the world.

So engrossed is he in the dandelions that he doesn’t realise he’s not alone until the demon is within striking distance, and only then are his supernatural senses are triggered.

The demon is in human form; it’s dressed in a hoodie and low-slung skinny jeans like a common teenager and wielding a 6-inch long switchblade. The blade whistles past his neck – it won’t kill Key, but it will discorporate the body he’s currently inhabiting and it’s such a hassle to get the Higher Ups to issue him a new one – as he dodges, and the demon barely loses a beat as he compensates for the move and swings the knife in an upwards motion.

A sharp elbow to the gut causes the demon to double over, but just when Key thinks the tide of the scuffle has turned, it sinks razor sharp, non-human teeth into his arm.

The sudden burst of pain – no demon has gotten this close to Key in centuries – awakens a primal part of Key’s angel brain and before he knows it, he’s half morphed into his original form, complete with wings and flaming sword.

Still the demon dares to lunge at him, and with one swipe of his heavenly blade, Key slices through the pathetic man-made switchblade. He raises his sword high, ready to deliver the killing blow, only to stop when he sees the demon curl into a ball on the pavement.

Perhaps it’s his love for humans, despite their many flaws, or the fact that he hasn’t killed for many lifetimes now, that stays his hand. Perhaps he’s gone soft because of his friendship with Minho.

Whatever the reason, Key lowers his blade and instead nudges the demon with his foot. “Go on, scram.”

The demon cautiously uncurls itself, looking up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes.

“Are you slow or something? Get lost.”

With obvious suspicion, the demon edges away from him and starts to run. It manages to make it a couple of doors down before it keels over, on its face, right in front of Key’s boutique.

***

###

There are 14 missed calls on his phone, all from Key. Minho’s human form starts sweating with anxiety before he remembers that what he is and puts a stop to the sweating.

When he calls Key back, the angel doesn’t answer the phone.

It takes all of five minutes to drive from his suite to Key’s boutique – laws of traffic and physics be damned – and in that time Minho wonders whether he should have skipped out on his pointless bi-monthly meeting with his immediate supervisor. What if, when Key invited him over to open the Riesling, he was actually sending out a coded message for help?

He pulls up outside the quaint little boutique with all of the tyre-screeching, door-slamming subtlety of Cruelle de Vil. There is a powerful demonic presence in the area, which cannot bode well. Heart pounding, he throws open the doors and rushes into small room at the back that is Key's personal quarters-

- to be greeted with the sight of Key pouring tea from a decanting bowl into two celadon cups, one of which he passes to a boy - a demon wearing a boy's form - with a bandaged arm. The look on its face hovers between suspicious and disgruntled, but it takes the tea and drinks it with an obnoxious slurping noise. This is nothing like what Minho imagined when he hightailed it here.

"What is going on?"

"Ah, Minho." Key waves an arm over to the other demon. "Kindly collect your colleague and transport him to wherever it is your type goes to when not you're not causing havoc and damning souls."

"Colleague?" Minho doesn't have colleagues. This little patch of Seoul is his turf, which is why he dares participate in the Arrangement with such impunity. He doesn't even know who this demon is, or why Key is having tea with him.

"Oh yes," Key continues. "He tried to attack me with a flick knife and somehow managed to impale himself on my sword."

"You stabbed me right through my arm, you murderous winged bastard," the demon says then, pouting like a child. "Impale myself, what nonsense."

"Anyway, since I’m in a good mood and really, it’s beneath me to kill someone so massively unmatched, I decided to spare him and let him go, but Mr Angel Assassin wannabe over here faints on my doorstep."

And Key must have healed his arm and given him tea, Minho realises with a pang of displeasure.

The demon, who pouts again at the mention of fainting, refills his cup of tea straight from the pot. Key’s eyebrow twitches, but he remains silent; a miracle indeed, knowing how finicky Key is about observing the proper etiquette of tea drinking.

“What are you doing on my turf?” Minho asks; it’s meant to question why the other demon is doing in his assigned territory, but when it comes out of his mouth it sounds like he’s asking why the demon is having tea with his angel.

“Baek said that if I wanted to be assigned for field work, I had to bring him angel blood. I asked him where the nearest angel was and he gave me these coordinates.”

Minho rolls his eyes. Hell’s HR manager is a bit of a troublemaker; this demon must have filed numerous applications to be assigned to the field, and instead of dealing with the applications, Baek had sent him on a suicide mission.

“You can go back and tell Baek that you’re interfering with my work-”

“What work? Since when did our work involve fraternising with the enemy? I thought field work was us corrupting souls and taking territory from the angels, not us… sitting around having tea!”

Minho sighs, feeling his brows come together in a frown. “I don’t know sort of fairytales you paper-pushers down below concoct, but field work does not involve epic battles with angels. There’s nothing wrong with a little civility between mortal enemies.”

“But Baek said-”

“I don’t care what Baek said,” Minho hisses.

The demon must have sensed his gathering temper, because he falls silent and holds his cup out for another refill. Key obliges him; Minho knows Key well enough to recognise the tiny smile on his face as amusement.

The demon drains the cup and smacks his lips. “I suppose I should thank you,” he says to Key. “For not killing me and for the tea and stuff.”

“Yes, I suppose you should.”

“Well, I shan’t!” the demon exclaims dramatically; he leaps from the chair and flounces out of the boutique, taking care to slam the door behind him.

Only to open it again a heartbeat later, to pop his head back in and say “Because I’m a demon, and we don’t do the gratitude thing. That’s why I did the… yeah. So, uh, bye, I guess.”

When Key suppresses a smile and waves at the demon, Minho feels like he’s going to die of second-hand embarrassment. He’s pretty sure that no angel would ever conduct themself in so undignified a manner.

###

***

The bell above the door jangles, and Key sighs in frustration. Customers. He’ll have to talk them out of buying anything now, when all he wants to do is finish cataloguing his latest haul of bohemian fashion and retire to the back room for a well-deserved cup of tea.

Imagine Key’s surprise when he finds the demon – the one who tried to kill him and ended up drinking his best tea – in his shop, instead of customers. Still wary, he keeps a safe distance between them and asks “What brings you here?”

The demon looks a little sheepish. “Well, uhm… do you regularly drink tea? Like, is there a time of the day when you do the tea thing, and if you do, have I missed it? Because I can come back later if-”

It’s really too cute. Key shakes himself a little at the thought; the Higher-Ups would not be happy about him thinking demons are cute. And if he invites this demon in to have tea, well, that would be two demons that he’s fraternising with. This wouldn’t be so bad if he had angel friends, but the current tally of angels who stay over for tea at his boutique is a great, big zero.

Then again, isn’t it his job as an angel to redeem souls? Opinion is divided as to whether demons are capable of redemption, but surely his friendship with Minho shows that there is hope for redemption for anyone.

“Aren’t you in luck? I’m just about to put the kettle on. You can come in if you promise not to repeat the whole stabby thing.”

“Fine.” The demon sighs his agreement, as if he’s hugely put upon by not having to do mortal combat with an overpowered opponent.

“What’s your name, by the way? I can’t keep referring to you as ‘demon’ if I’m going to have to learn how to differentiate you from your colleagues.”

“You can call me Tae.”

***

###

Thursdays are duck days, and therefore, good days.

But not this Thursday. On this Thursday, Minho turns up to his usual meeting with Key to find that his spot on the bench has been usurped. Not by a human or another angel – although Minho can’t quite imagine that stiff-necked bunch dandying about in a park – but by that demon.  

The leaves under his feet burn to a crisp as he strides over to the pair of them, but Minho can’t be bothered. He’ll set fire to the whole damn park if that is what it’ll take to get rid of the demon.

“Your face has probably soured every last bit of milk in a five-mile radius,” Kibum says as soon as he’s within hearing range “there’ll be a poor, confused mother out there wondering why her babe won’t drink.”

The demon actually giggles at this. Key looks pleased with himself.

“I thought I made it clear that this is my turf.”

“Chill, bruh,” the demon says. “I’m not looking to take your spot or anything, it’s just that Baek never said how long I have to collect this angel blood and I ain’t going back until he comes knocking. It’s been millennia since I’ve been upside.”

“Come on, sourpuss,” Key coaxes, shuffling over to create a space on the other side of the bench for Minho. “Sit. I brought extra bread today.”

The ducks look confused to see three people instead of two. Minho doesn’t blame them.

“You better not be attracting divine attention,” Minho cautions the demon. “They’re nothing like Key, and if you get me discorporated somehow I will be very, very displeased.”

“I knew you’d be concerned,” Key says. “That’s why I took the liberty of watching over Tae.”

Oh, so it’s Tae now, is it, Minho grumbles to himself. The Arrangement was well into its fiftieth year before Key even asked his name.

“How?”

“Well, for the moment, he’s staying with me. Makes it a lot easier.”

The heel of bread in Minho’s hands crumbles into ash. The ducks at his feet quack disappointedly and Minho glares at them until they waddle back into the water. Out of the corner of his eye, Minho can see Tae watching him, and there’s something almost smug in the other demon’s eyes.

It’s been so long since Minho has had to deal with one of his own kind that he’s forgotten how slimy they can be.

###

~~~

Key is honestly the oddest creature he’s ever encountered.  

Perhaps angels had more faith in the ineffability of the Plan, and so have implemented a policy of minimal interference with humans, but it is hard to believe that Heaven would waste one of its most powerful agents on so menial an assignment.

Maybe the angel had gone native. That would certainly explain his odd behaviour.

In the short time that Taemin has been living with Key, the angel has lived by a pretty standard routine; have a cup of tea and watch the sunrise, potter about in the boutique, visit the churches and places of worship in the vicinity, perform minor miracles such as healing sprains, repairing flat tyres, have a sandwich in one artisan shop or another – where he leaves a too generous tip and always chats with the servers – and come back to the boutique to modify his ridiculously huge collection of vintage clothes.

That’s it.

Tae suddenly understands why he and Minho hang out so much. He’s only been here a month, and the highlight of his week is whenever the angel and demon get together and bicker over ducks, over dim sum, or over coffee or tea or wine, so what more for a couple of immortal creatures trapped in this routine for the past millennia or so?

Too bad that Minho doesn’t seem to like him at all.

~~~

###

If Minho could kill Baek and get away with it, he would have done so right after learning that the other demon had moved in with Key.

But after the happy pair turn up for their scheduled dinner at the Ritz-Carlton wearing matching jumpers, Minho calls in a hard-earned favour with one of the ancient ones; a demon named Persephone. She’s powerful enough to start an Apocalypse by herself, but she’s also incurably lazy and can’t be bothered to use her immense powers to do anything other than cause minor nuisances.

“What is it?”

Right now, she’s speaking to him through his kettle. Minho smiles briefly, thinking that Key would be offended by the misuse of kitchenware.

“What do you know about Tae?”

A long silence follows, until Minho almost believes that she’s buggered off instead of answering him.

“He’s one of the old ones,” his kettle finally hisses. “Powerful. Last I heard he was training the new recruits, but if he’s crossing paths with you, well, something must be up. I’ll poke around, see what I can find.”

Minho’s heart sinks.

“Thanks.”

The kettle explodes. Typical Persephone.

Minho spends an afternoon thinking long and hard about Tae’s motivations in lying to him, in cosying up to Key and comes to the conclusion that Tae is eyeing his position.

Training can’t be very exciting, and if Tae has figured that Minho is doing the bare minimum that is expected of a field agent and is getting away with it, he’s probably figured that he can do the same.

Curse everything, Minho thinks. Why couldn’t Key have stabbed him through the heart instead of the arm?

###

***

It would take an idiot to miss the frosty air between Minho and Tae and, despite what the two demons think, Key is anything but.

Key knows Minho better than the demon knows himself, and he knows that Minho is jealous. He probably feels like Key has replaced him, which is silly. Tae’s explained that his stay is a temporary one – that Baek will summon him back Down sooner or later – and that he’s just trying to enjoy himself while he can. Key had been wary initially of Tae’s motivations and invited him to stay at his place to keep an eye on him, but Tae seems to have been telling the truth. In the few short weeks he’s stayed here, he’s been more interested in learning about the human world than doing anything particularly diabolical.

In fact, it is somewhat funny to see the two demons vie for his affection? approval? whenever the three of them meet. Funnier still is the fact that Key now counts two demons on the list of friends that he invites over for tea; a list on which any angelic names are conspicuously missing.

Key knows he’s treading a dangerous line.

***

~~~

For an angel – a being tasked with protecting God’s most beloved creation – Key doesn’t particularly like humans. That’s not to say that he doesn’t help them or tries to thwart them or anything; it’s just that he shows them as much consideration as he does to ducks or flowers or any other one of God’s creations.

Tae finds it funny to hear Key grumble under his breath every time a customer walks into his shop, and even funnier to see the angel try his level best to convince the poor mortal that there isn’t anything in his shop worthy of purchase.

This time, a woman has set her eye on a ball gown from the early 1900s, and no matter what Key says, will not be persuaded to leave it. It would be easier if Key would allow himself to lie and say that the original owner of the dress had been murdered in it, or something similarly nasty, but apparently that’s unangelic.

She takes the dress to the till to pay, and there’s practically a thundercloud hanging over Key.

The tag on the dress says 730,00 won. She opens her purse and extracts the correct amount from it, and from his place at Key’s side, Tae can see that there’s only a 100 won note left. Key must have seen that too, because his eyes light up.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid that the price on the tag was the price about ten years ago, and you can understand that it’ll have gone up now.”

“How much?” the woman asks.

“Oh, um… 1,300,00 won.”

She sighs, folds the money and tucks it back into her purse. Tae mentally chalks up another victory for Key when she pulls out a square bit of black plastic instead, and hands it over. “Charge it to this then.”

With a face that wouldn’t look out of place at a funeral, Key takes the thing and slides it into a machine. Tae watches with fascination as it sputters out a bit of paper, which Key rips off and hands to the woman. She signs the paper, returns it to Key and gestures at Tae to bag the dress.

It must be some form of IOU, Tae thinks, as he folds the dress in a way guaranteed to make it crease.

When she leaves, he turns to Key. “What was that little plastic thing?”

“Another one of your side’s infernal inventions,” Key grumps. “It’s called a credit card.”

“Is it an IOU?”

“In a way. The bank gives me my money, and then she has to pay them back, with interest.”

“Why would my side ever invent such a useful thing?”

“It makes humans spend more money than they have and then they find themselves trapped in debts they can’t ever pay off.”

Key has a point. Key is also still pouting over the loss of one of his precious vintage pieces, so Tae proposes a little pick-me-up. It occurs to him that he should be doing something to further ruin the angel’s mood, being a demon and all, but he waves the thought as quickly as it comes. He can always get around to it later.

Even a blind person – as Key is so fond of saying – can see that there is little the angel likes more than Minho, so the pick-me-up is an impromptu afternoon tea date. Key vanishes to his room to dress up and Tae roams around the shop and pokes at the wild variety of clothes the angel has stashed away. Some of these look so uncomfortable that they could only have been invented by Down Below.

The roar of a Rolls Royce engine alerts him to Minho’s arrival.

Not a minute later, Minho strides into the shop as if he owns it. His smile, of course, slides right off his face when he sees Tae waiting. Stupid git, Tae thinks. Any demon would give their right arm to be where he is now – to have an angel trust them – but he’s not even aware of the great opportunity he’s had for such a long time. Any other demon would have wisely used this opportunity to kill of one the Heavenly Host. Instead, here he is, getting jealous about having to share his angel with another demon.

Minho’s face hardens. “I know who you are.”

Tae isn’t afraid. If Minho knows why he’s here, he has a feeling they wouldn’t be standing around making unhappy faces at each other.

When Taemin doesn’t respond, Minho says “I-”

“I know. You don’t like me. But your boyfriend, he does.”

Minho sputters, but before anything can be said, Key emerges from his room. “Oh, hello dear,” he says. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Come on, let’s go.”

Tae knows his sarcastic remark hit a vein of truth when Minho refuses to meet his gaze the entire time they’re out, when he blushes every time Key offers to pour his tea or to share a pastry with him.

Minho has fallen for the angel.

~~~

###

Persephone comes back with news quicker than Minho expects.

He’s just awoken and is waiting for his coffee machine to brew him the perfect cuppa when it instead begins hissing ominously. Moments later, Persephone’s voice fills the air.

“Ooh, Minho, you’ve stepped in it this time.”

“How?”

“Tae was recently promoted to auditor. He’s there to monitor your performance. I do hope you’ve not given him any cause for concern, you know what management is like. I hear they’re planning a huge reshuffle.”

Minho should be worried, but he feels a little relieved. Tae’s not here to steal his place or – he’s finally willing to admit – steal his angel. This issue with the auditing department can be resolved as long as he does something flashy, like convince the government to privatise healthcare or increase taxation rates.

“Thanks Seph. We’re even now.”

The coffee machine explodes.

Minho sighs. Starbucks it is then.

###

~~~

The doorbell above the door jangles. Key is preoccupied in his room – he’s been squirreling things away since yesterday – so Tae bounces over to the door to see the customer in.

It’s not a customer.

Tae recognises him with a single glance; the golden wings, the tumbling golden locks, the haughty air of a born bureaucrat.

Michael.

For a moment, the angel stands motionless in the doorway, mirroring the demon in front of him. Then, Tae comes to his senses and makes a run for it, almost a second too late. The angel’s fiery sword singes the tips of his long hair, barely missing his neck.

Michael is too powerful for all but the most ancient and powerful demons to even contemplate taking on; Tae is not suicidal enough to think that he stands a chance against this particular opponent.

Almost without thinking, he runs towards the back of the shop, where Key is just coming out of his room.

“What the-”

Tae can see the realisation dawn on Key; his eyes take in Tae, Michael and the fiery sword, and in that moment, Tae loses all hope of making it out alive. Faced with his superior, Key has no choice but to obey his command and slay the demon; Tae might be able to run from one angel, but two?

Key’s wings erupt, electric blue, and blue flame runs down the length of his sword. He looks fearsome in his wrath, and Tae shuts his eyes as he waits for the killing blow.

It never comes.

When he opens his eyes, Tae sees Key standing between himself and Michael. Key’s sword is brandished against Michael, against his fellow angel.

Over Key’s shoulder, Tae can see Michael’s eyes narrow. “What foolishness is this?”

Key’s voice wavers when he answers. “He’s harmless.”

Once upon a time – even as little as a month ago – Tae would have delighted in the thought of turning angels against each other. Now, seeing Key and Michael circling each other like hungry lions, Tae feels nothing but dread. Key cannot win this fight.

Tae finds himself surprised by the fact that he cares, by the fact that he cannot bear the thought of a world without leisurely afternoon strolls through the Olympic Park and tea thoughtfully brewed and lovingly poured into celadon cups.

And that is when Tae realises that he’s fallen for Key just as deeply as Minho has.

~~~

###

The new coffee machine is brewing its first brew, and Minho is on hand to make sure it knows that it will be heading straight to the trash if it does not make him the perfect cup.

The cup is about halfway full when the coffee machine explodes. Again. And so does the fridge, the kettle (also new), the television and goodness knows what else. Minho knows immediately that it is not Persephone; she’s never this out-of-control.

Tae barges in then, without so much as a knock.

“It’s Key.”

After Persephone’s warning, Minho should be wary. He should be on the lookout for a ploy by Tae, to lure him back Down Below, but no such caution crosses his mind. He takes in Tae’s dishevelled appearance and the panic in his eyes, and before he can contemplate the wisdom of his actions, he’s already got the Rolls Royce screaming through traffic.

A force-field of sorts has risen over Key’s street. It would be undetectable to the human eye – being designed to keep them out – but creatures like themselves can see it clearly enough.

The boutique has been laid to waste. Out on the street, Key and Michael are battling for their lives. When Minho and Tae pull the car to a stop next to them, Michael sneers.

“Another demon companion? How low have you fallen?”

Key says nothing. There is a bleeding gash on his temple and he looks more scraped up than Michael. He takes advantage of Michael’s temporary distraction to lunge at him, causing the more powerful angel to stumble backwards.

Tae launches himself at Michael then, in his true form; fangs and claws bared, and he rips a wound in Michael’s wing. Minho attacks too, aiming for the other wing, and he’s surprised at his own strength; it’s been a very long time he’s seen active battle. Caught between the two demons, Michael writhes and flails, but fails to dislodge them.

“Come on, Key!” Tae urges. “Kill him!”

Key makes no move against Michael, only keeps his sword pointed at the other angel’s throat.

With each flap of the angel’s mighty wings, Minho feels his grip on Michael loosening.

###

***

Key’s heart feels like it has been cloven in two.

To see Tae and Minho – two demons, two enemies – risk their lives and limbs to save him is one thing.

The other thing is the impossible choice before him; to kill Michael – his brother and leader – or to let himself be killed. Key had always thought that if the choice were presented to him, he’d choose death over murder, but now he realises that he deeply, desperately wants to live.

But still, no matter how he tries, Key cannot bring himself to raise his sword against Michael.

With a final shake of his wings, Michael dislodges both Minho and Tae.

Key looks at the pair of them, tossed on the road, watching him with eyes filled with despair.

With love.

And as Michael brings the sword down on him, Key feels almost deliriously happy.

***

~~~

Michael’s sword shatters before it can touch Key.

The dust and debris surrounding the four unearthly beings swirls into a storm, and in that storm Tae can make out the silhouette of a woman. In one hand she appears to be holding a small, round fruit.

When she peels the fruit to reveal many little seeds – in actual fact, little flecks of concrete – Tae realises who she is. He pulls himself up to his knees and bows to her. “My Lady.”

If dust silhouettes could roll their eyes, this one certainly does.

“Michael, darling, how are you?”

“BEGONE, FOUL CREAUTRE.”

“Oh, come off it.” The dust silhouette eats the dust fruit. “There’s really no point to all this smiting and holy wrath. I mean, did my minion breach the truce or something, for you to want to smite them?”

“My grievance is with my brethren, not yours,” Michael responds. “Do not interfere.”

“Oh dear, Metatron isn’t going to be pleased at all.”

At the mention of Metatron, Michael freezes. “That is low, even for you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be Uncle Metatron’s favourite niece if I didn’t tell him about how his captain is bullying his minions and threatening to stomp on mine without cause, would I?”

~~~     

###     

Of course.

Persephone is only a goddess of the underworld for a third of every year. Minho has never wondered where she is whenever she’s not reigning; it makes sense that she’d be spending it with the Higher Ups.

While Persephone and Michael bandy insults and threats, Minho sneaks a glance at Key. His angel looks a little worn and beaten, but doesn’t seem to have suffered any injuries he cannot recover from. A little TLC will have him right as rain in no time.

Key catches his eye and sends him a tired smile.

So lost is he in Key’s wellbeing that Minho completely forgets Persephone and Michael until the angel departs the scene in a flurry of feathers.

“Well, that’s taken care of,” the Persephone dust cloud says. “You owe me big time, Hoe Hoe.”

Minho nods, accepting his fate. Persephone may be lazy 99% of the time, but she knows how to put favours to good use. No use worrying about it now, though; he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

###

***

“Come here,” Key says, spreading his arms and wings. He’s not normally given to such sentimentality, but today’s an exceptional day. He’s nearly met his end at the hands of a fellow angel and been rescued by a trio of demons.

Tae and Minho both take his offer up at the same time, and it ends up being a group hug that somehow feels just right.

“Thank you,” he says to them both.

“I should thank you too,” Minho says then, to Tae.

Tae smiles. “I was going to write something really nasty on your audit and have you recalled, but I guess I’ll tone it down to mild incompetence just this once.”

Key’s not sure what Tae means by audit, but seeing his two demons finally getting along overshadows that little question. Instead, he releases them from his arms and wings – one of which Tae is absent-mindedly – and says “If you guys can help me put the boutique back together, I’ll put the kettle on and we can have some tea.” 

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Well, that's it! Let me know what you think :)