Note: As usual, for my darling Harukami. Consider it part of your Christmas gift. And for general information, "Koe" is Japanese for voice.
He could count every time he had held Uriel in the sky like this.
His face was buried in the juncture where Uriel's wings met the powerful muscles of his back; his arms were wrapped around his waist, his own wings beating long and slow while Uriel's were held stiff and spread out. Around them the angry black clouds roiled, and the wind lashed through both them and the two angels suspended in the sky.
The Metatron kept his eyes closed, light gray eyelashes resting on his cheeks. He could hold Uriel close and pretend that the terrible Angel of Holy Wrath needed him for something more than the mere act of holding him aloft as he called the lightening. He knew what Uriel looked like when he summoned Most Holy's wrath - his famed azure eyes turned dark as the clouds about them, and the scathing wind turned his unevenly shorn black locks wild.
Soon, he thought meditatively. Soon Uriel would summon and it would be all over. Soon he would have to endure the agony of waiting for this time to come again. He felt the muscles beneath his cheek move as Uriel reached up with his right hand. Even with closed eyes, the Metatron could see the bright light gathering above. The wind around them roared and thrashed furiously, and Uriel's whispered chanting, drowned out by the wind, he heard nonetheless - prayers to Most Holy for power frequently went through the Metatron, which resulting in a strange echo when they went through the summoning ceremony.
The Metatron stiffened as the Most Holy's consent ripped through his mind, and he was unable to stifle an agonized cry as Uriel gathered that consent, that power, from his mind and used it to harness the lightening.
The earth below them flashed and crackled as the bolt touched ground, the smell of ozone flooding his nostrils and making him feel vaguely nauseous and euphoric at the same time.
This…this was joy.
"You can let me down any day now, Koe," Uriel called, his voice tinged with irritation.
As usual, Uriel ruined everything by opening his mouth.
In retrospect, going to bed with Uriel was one of worst decisions he could have made.
At the time, it seemed to have been everything he could have ever wanted, and indeed, it still was. Uriel had been gentle, kind…and most days the Metatron could lie to himself and pretend he had even been a little loving. Their lovemaking had been sweet and languorous, and the Metatron had thought he could just die right then and there after hearing all the pretty endearments Uriel favored him with.
In the morning, Uriel had kissed him briefly on the lips - a chaste, almost brotherly kiss. A parting smile and he was gone.
Though he knew Uriel's well-deserved reputation, it didn't make it hurt any less when the angel hopped into bed with a Gate guardian the next night. And someone else the night after. And someone different the night after that. Not to mention various interludes during the day. Uriel had amassed a large collection of lovers, both former and current, and went through them like a starving man at a banquet.
So, sitting at his desk, idly painting his nails cherry red, the Metatron wondered what he had ever done to deserve falling madly in love with such a promiscuous, dangerous twit. Here in the Tower, he could see all of Heaven. The twelve windows afforded him a near perfect panoramic view - to the right, the Angel School. To the left, the barracks of the warrior angels. Before him in the distance were the Great Gates themselves, and behind him was the City. Here alone in the highest point in Heaven, his mind was filled with the gentle hum of the presence of the Most Holy. He could never quite explain what it was like to have his mind linked to such an awesome, frightening, beautiful presence. It was soothing, in most cases - always there, a support to fall back on. Sometimes he was given orders he didn't like, but disobeying them was never an option and he learned to accept them with good grace. He'd only tried a few times to argue, and learned very quickly that when Most Holy was asked to explain, the thoroughness of the answer frequently led to a migraine. So he got used to doing what he was told and, apparently, his faith and devotion were the marvel of Heaven.
Most Holy seemed to think that was as funny as he did.
He knew he came off as something of a ditz, but he felt he had adequate justification. Having an all-powerful being almost constantly feeding directions and the occasional bad pun straight into their mind would make anybody speak in apparent non sequitors.
Someone rapped lightly on the door. "Come in," he called, resigning himself to severe candy theft as he felt Raphael's presence.
Raphael poked his head and, after ascertaining he wasn't interrupting anything, entered the room. The Metatron smiled reflexively - he just couldn't help it where Raphael was concerned. The other angel's dark lips would curve into a smile, and suddenly an entire room of people would smile back. It was as if his cheerfulness was contagious, and there were days when the Metatron wished he could catch it more often.
Raphael draped himself comfortably in an embroidered chair in front of his desk, raising his handsome face to luxuriate in the sunlight that streamed in uninhibited. The gentle crosswind ruffled his seeming permanent bedhead as he idly reached out for a peppermint twist. "What's up, Koe-kun?" Raphael asked. The nickname that he hated hearing from Uriel, who almost always used it when making a derogatory comment, was musical and affectionate from Raphael's lips. They were good friends - they had known each other for literally forever and furthermore, Raphael shared his secret and commiserated.
Raphael knew what it was like to love someone who didn't have a clue that he would hack off his wings himself if it would please his beloved.
"The usual," the Metatron told him, still smiling slightly.
Raphael adjusted his wing to make himself more comfortable, his eyes searching the Metatron's face. The Voice of Most Holy was used to those all-encompassing glances of Raphael's, and he knew the Professor could see what most others couldn't - a consuming devotion to the Most Holy and a crippling love for an angel who didn't even know what the word monogamous meant.
"You seem a little mopey, Koe-kun…you wanna go out tonight, have a good time?" Raphael asked, his lips smiling but his eyes serious.
"While I agree that watching you horribly embarrass your lover is one of the better forms of entertainment available, I think I'll pass."
Raphael leaned forward and waggled his eyebrows, his lips curving into a sensuous smile. "Why, Koe-kun! Have a hot date?"
The Metatron snorted. "That joke would be in bad taste if I weren't truly considering hauling Uriel to my bedchamber and handcuffing him to the headboard."
The Professor's head bobbed in satisfaction - he could practically see the pieces fitting together in Raphael's head. "The summoning today? Well, goodness knows Uriel wouldn't be unwilling if you asked. He's always a little horny afterwards, but then again, Uriel is always horny, but you know what I mean." Raphael cast a sidelong glance at the Metatron, and he could feel himself being practically dissected with that gaze. "Do you really think you should?"
The Metatron compressed his lips into a thin, agonized line. "I'll take what I can get." It was true - he would do anything for a kind word, anything to pretend that the unrequited love smoldering inside wasn't as one-sided as he knew it to be.
Raphael just looked at him, and the sympathy in those amethyst eyes made him jump up from his desk angrily and stalk over to an eastern window. He leaned against the window arch and watched the clouds passing for a few moments before choking out, "I wish…I wish to Most Holy I didn't feel this way." Though he wished otherwise, he couldn't prevent hot tears from slowly seeping down his cheeks.
Raphael gathered him in his arms and the Metatron wept quietly against his shoulder.
He was taken aback later in the day when some of the higher-up Guardians requested a meeting with him. There was nothing on his desk calendar for the late afternoon, so he agreed quickly enough. Frankly, he was quite curious to know what the flame sword-wielding angels had to say. At the appointed time, an apparent delegation walked into the room, their heads respectfully bowed.
Curiouser and curiouser. And was it his imagination, or did he feel…?
It wasn't his imagination. Uriel strode in, looking ever so slightly confused as he met the Metatron's eyes. However, any slight insecurity didn't keep him from sitting on the corner of his desk, which both pleased and annoyed the Metatron. How he was supposed to conduct business with Uriel's tempting backside inches away, he did not know.
"Metatron-sama," one of the Guardians began with a slight cough. "We wish to discuss a matter of the personal security of the Voice of the Most Holy." The other angels nodded solemnly, almost eagerly in their support of their spokesman.
"My security?" the Metatron asked incredulously, grey eyes going wide. "I have a legion of guardians to protect me - do explain yourself, Captain."
The captain looked hesitantly at the openly bored Uriel. "Perhaps…perhaps the Voice of the Most Holy should train another in his stead, so that he may not be obliged to risk himself when the angel Uriel summons the wrath of Most Holy?"
The Metatron urged his hands to unclench from the fists they had almost instinctively formed. He couldn't! He just couldn't have that taken away from him - damn it, it was all he had! He bit his lower lip, trying to form words to diplomatically refuse such a wretched suggestion.
"I'm afraid that's quite impossible," Uriel said smoothly, his voice warm like honey and sending a small shiver down the Metatron's back. Uriel gracefully stood up and walked behind the desk, standing just behind the Metatron and placing his hands on his shoulders. "The Metatron is necessary for the summoning. Holding me aloft isn't the important part - it's the consent of the Most Holy. So you see, no one else will do."
The guardians blinked in unison, which almost provoked the Metatron into a fit of giggles. But they nodded their heads in understanding, though still quite solemnly. "We thank the Voice of the Most Holy for hearing our words," the captain said, his tone that of a chastised child. Still solemn, the guardians filed out of the room.
Uriel leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, his breath ruffling the strands of hair by the ear. "Well, that was a waste of our time. But at least they're looking out for you, ne?" he winked and adjusted the floppy beret on his head. "Ja, matta ne," he called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
Sitting in stunned silence, the Metatron touched his cheek in wonder. It tingled in memory of Uriel's soft lips. A waste of his time, was it? Surely not!
No one else will do.
He felt his face spread into a warm, truly delighted smile and felt happier than he had in quite some time. He picked up the cell phone on his desk and quickly dialed a number. "Hello, Raphael? Yes, it's me. Would you mind if I came along with you and Mikael tonight after all? I feel like going out and having a good time…"