The first thing the incubus says when he wakes up is, “Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.” 

The second thing he says is, “This is all your fault.”

The angel glares at him, no humour at all in his expression. “What do you think you were doing?”

The devil remains silent on this point, choosing instead to check for signs of life in all limbs.

“I’m his guardian angel. I save him from things. Not you.”

“Kinda hard, since you weren’t there,” the devil mutters, taking inventory. Broken pelvis? Possibly a broken arm. Definitely fractured ribs. Oh, joy.

The angel angrily turns his face away at this. “I’ve never been able to save him from anything.” He says softly, sitting down slowly in the chair next to the hospital bed. “You’re right. I wasn’t there.”

The devil throws him a glance out of the corner of his eye, and wants very hard to say something snarky. He doesn’t.

“The next time he’s involved in a car accident, I’ll let you do all the rescue work, okay?” He’s tired. He’s never been this tired, ever. 

He can feel bones knitting slowly, bruises healing, cuts scabbing over. It’s minute work, intricate things to do with human tissues and muscles and bones, and he can hardly move for how exhausted he is. And it hurts.

“Why didn’t you take him?”

The question hangs in the air between them, the angel waiting for an answer that the devil is unwilling to give. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” the incubus says, closing his eyes. It’s strange, being physically human but having the consciousness of an immortal entity. He can feel the IV fluid dripping into a vein, feel each hurt and injury separately, disparately. He feels the crushing weight of the cotton hospital blanket over his legs, the deadness of the plaster casts, the fibres of his bandages rustling every time he takes a pained breath. The angel next to him is both a human-shaped ball of light as well as a normal flesh-and-blood person, and the devil wonders why a near-death experience for his mortal self is what it takes for him to be able to see things this way.

“You do. You never went… all the way with him. Isn’t that how it works for you? You enter him, and if he gives himself to you willingly then it’s done. His soul and life force becomes yours. Isn’t it?”   

The angel is speaking steadily now, emotionlessly. 

“You know why,” comes the answer, and it’s barely above a whisper.

The angel barks out a harsh laugh, and the devil turns his head in surprise to hear that tone on the lips of an angel. It’s despair and hopelessness twined together with pain.

“You don’t know what love is.” 

The angel gets up and walks around the windowless room.

“I win,” Lucifer says, holding his hand out. “Pay up.”

God raises an eyebrow, and slaps Lucifer’s hand away. “What do you mean you win? If this is you winning then I win even more than you. Your devil saved a human’s life because of love.”

“Pssh, saving a life is nothing. What we’re all interested in are souls, aren’t we? The longer a human lives, the more chances to get his soul. And look at your angel - lying, manipulating, being deceitful… Love turned him bad, just like I’d said. Give him some more time and who knows what he would have plotted.”

“Okay, then, souls. The devil didn’t take the human’s soul when he could have. You know that. And if he wasn’t interested in the human’s safety he would have let him die. Would have been no difference to him, because he could just have moved on to another human.

No,” God muses, looking down at the devil lying in the hospital bed. “Love makes us better than we are.”

The angel sits down again beside the bed, and there’s something in the way he sits that speaks of surrender. He moves forward to lay his head on the devil’s warm stomach, all the fight seeming to have gone out of him. 

“Thank you,” he says, looking straight at the devil. “Thank you for saving him.”

“My ribs are broken, you know,” the devil grimaces, and the angel almost laughs. “Good,” he says, but moves anyway.

“He wants more than I can give,” the devil breathes, easier now that the angel’s head isn’t pressing down on his middle. “you should-”

“Hah, and I can’t give him what you can,” the angel interrupts, scooting backwards to lay his head on the fifteen centimeters of bed next to his chair that the devil isn’t taking up. “I feel so tired.”

The incubus lifts an arm and awkwardly pats the angel on the head. The angel gives him a weird look, and the devil wonders why he did that in the first place.

“I still hate you for coming into his life,” the angel says, and for the first time, the incubus cracks a grin.

“An angel’s hate, huh? I haven’t lost my touch yet.”

“So, again, we both win. Just like the last time.”

Lucifer pouts, and materializes a bag of money. He sticks out his hand, giving it to God, who holds it for a second and then passes it back. It disappears.

“Who’s ahead?”

“Nobody. We’ve been stuck in the same place, 0-0, since we started this game eight centuries ago. I think we have to start finding different people to bet with. People we can actually win against!”

“Or maybe we should stop choosing such broad topics. The ineffability of love! No matter what happens, you can’t explain it. Nobody can understand the things love makes you do,” Lucifer spreads out his hands, and bends down to the cat twisting around his legs. “Right, my pretty pretty pretty?” 

The cat mrrroooowwwss, and slinks away from Lucifer, his fingers running through gorgeously soft midnight-blue fur. The cat grows, morphing through uncomfortable shapes as it grows long legs and a sharp nose and fur changes to smooth skin.

“Right,” the devil says, nuzzling Lucifer, still feline in his movements. The devil walks away, vanishing by degrees, and God shakes his head. 

“The ineffability of love, indeed. Have you succumbed, then?”

“The Lord of Hell doesn’t succumb to anything, and especially not foreign demons.” Lucifer says, nose in the air. 

God smiles secretly, and regards the two below again. “What are we going to do about those two?”

They look at each other, what’s being said silently known only to the both of them, and Lucifer gasps. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” 

“You are such a sap.” 

“Am not.” 

“You so are.” Lucifer shrugs, and snaps his fingers. “Let it be done, then.”

The angel and the devil suddenly find themselves in a void, stretching as far as the eye can see. The devil looks down at himself, and horrified, sees that he’s still wearing the hospital robe from before. He quickly grabs the back to hold it closed, and then suddenly realizes that nothing hurts anymore.

“Angel, you once said you’d do anything for your human. Do you remember that?”

Both of them snap to attention at God’s voice, but the devil manages to include a bit of sneering at the angel’s mushiness. 

“Yes,” the angel says, his voice unsteady. 

“What are you willing to give up for him?”

The angel is quiet for a while, thinking. “In return for what? His safety?”

“Let’s just say his happiness.” This is a new voice, which is quickly shushed. The devil frowns, finding it very familiar indeed.     

“Are you willing to give up your immortality, Angel?” God resumes speaking, and the new voice isn’t heard again.

“And as for you, Devil,” God pauses, and a note of pride enters his voice. “You nearly gave your life, seemingly, for a human. You neglected your duties for the sake of this human’s soul. It would appear that you are no longer fit to be a Devil.”

The devil flails, and tugs on the angel’s arm to help him, but the angel is still too shell-shocked from God’s earlier question posed to him. 

“Wait! Am I being demoted? I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry-”

God says something, and the both of them jawdrop.

“What?”

**

The bottom of Kyuhyun’s backpack splits neatly open, spilling schoolbooks everywhere on the pavement. Kyuhyun stops with a jerk as he feels his bag abruptly lighten, and his face falls like a stone as he turns around. He growls, glaring at his books on the ground like it’s their fault they’re no longer sitting snugly in his now-useless backpack.

He tosses the backpack away, dilapidated from years of use, and bends down to pick his books up. 

Sungmin sees him, and the sensation of déjà vu is intense. He’s definitely seen this boy somewhere before, but before his mind can hold on to it, the feeling slips through his fingers. Momentarily forgetting about waiting to pick up his brother from school, he flicks dark hair out of dark eyes as he hurries over to help him, feeling sorry for the amount of books the boy has to carry.

Kyuhyun raises his head at Sungmin’s greeting. 

“Hi, I’m Sungmin, do you need help?”

“Thank you, hyung,” Kyuhyun says, awkwardly, and they look into each other’s eyes for the first time.

Life shifts and readjusts itself around the two of them. 

**

“I’ve lost my best friend,” Shindong cries, and Leeteuk jiggles him on his knee. 

“There, there,” he says, kissing Shindong’s fat baby cheek. “You can always go visit him when you like.”

“But he won’t remember me!” Another wail breaks out, and Leeteuk makes a face. 

“Think about it, he’s happy now. No guarantees though whether they’ll fall in love the second time around, but you can help with that, can’t you?” Leeteuk nudges Shindong’s cupid bow, and Shindong sniffles.

“Yes, I guess,” he replies, and Leeteuk jiggles him again. 

“I don’t get why he has to become mortal to be with Kyuhyun. You manage fine, with your human-”

“Shhh!” Leeteuk hisses, and nearly pushes Shindong off his knee. “Nobody is supposed to know about that.”

“Everybody knows about it,” Shindong mutters, wiping watery eyes. “I want to see him.”

Leeteuk opens up a portal to Earth, and they watch Sungmin and Kyuhyun slowly make their way towards Kyuhyun’s house with Sungmin’s younger brother, Sungjin, in tow; Sungjin looking rather grumpy about being made to hold some stranger’s books.

“It’s so strange, there’s my Sungmin in that body, but also the other one,” Shindong murmurs.

“Mmm,” Leeteuk agrees, playing with Shindong’s golden curls. “But they’re one person now. I wonder how it will turn out.”

Sungmin is laughing at something Kyuhyun has just said, a real genuine laugh, while at the same time flirtatiously slinging an arm around his waist. Shindong smiles a small smile.

“I think it’ll be okay.”

**