Angel Sanctuary Fan Fiction ❯ The Twelve Days of Christmas ❯ French Hens ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

AN: This one is more somber than the last one, though it's not without a cute bit or two. I hope you find this satisfactory, Contra Mundi ;) The `three French hens' symbolize the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity, which I thought would be appropriate for a drabble in which Raziel and Zaphikel recall their first meeting. Hmm... so much ambiguity @-@ Though there is a certain amount of blushing involved, it seems like their feelings towards each other are very innocent... but then again, you can take it how you will ;)

Three x French Hens

Raziel stood so still in the doorway that he almost forgot to breathe. Zaphikel stood with his back to him across the room, watching the snow fall - but of course that wasn't right. It couldn't be right, could it...?

And then, though Raziel could not guess what had alerted the older man to his presence - his rather rapid heartbeat, perhaps? - Zaphikel half-turned, and murmured: “Raziel...?”

The boy flushed in embarrassment, and nearly dropped his papers. “Ah - I-I'm sorry! I was just -” Zaphikel chuckled at him.

“I can hear it,” he explained. “Most people don't even realize it, but snow does make a sound when it falls. Softer than silk...”

Raziel shuffled his papers to mask his discomfort. “Yes, I suppose everything must make some noise,” he said off-handedly. The look on Zaphikel's face, however, killed any further words in his throat...

“Raziel?” the Great Thrones finally asked. The boy had to focus on the papers in his hands for a long moment before speaking again.

“Um... I have some reports to read,” he offered quietly.

Zaphikel scoffed, and Raziel was ridiculously relieved. “On Christmas Eve? Nonsense!”

The blond angel scowled. “It's not Christmas Eve!”

“Alright, the eve of Christmas Eve, close enough,” Zaphikel said flippantly. “Wouldn't it be more fun to have tea?” Upon sensing a growing aura of impending doom from across the room, he hastily added, “You can read them to me afterwards, okay?”

“I will read them to you while we have tea,” Raziel said menacingly, “sir.”

“Alright, alright!”

Zaphikel settled himself at the small table by the window, and listened to Raziel making the tea in the next room. The young cadet slammed the cabinet doors irritably enough... and so the older angel found it terribly amusing to hear, as the water was gradually heating, Raziel humming to himself.

As he listened, though, the smile slipped from his face; presently Zaphikel returned his attention outside.

`Yes, I suppose everything must make some noise...' He smiled wryly. No, my Raziel, that is not true. I know you have not forgotten; you will never forget... only you, out of all your fellow sufferers, and only after ten minutes of agonizing effort...

From the kitchen, Zaphikel could hear the sounds of Raziel putting together a snack tray. And it was so ironic that, after all that effort, you gave such a simple answer... so ironic that you gave such an answer to me, when I... I know that I must one day-

The Great Thrones was snapped rudely from his musings by a tea tray being plunked down on the table in front of him. “Tea on your right, Lord Zaphikel, and cookies on the left,” Raziel informed him in a carefree tone; all earlier infringements had clearly been forgotten.

“Thank you, sweet Raziel,” he murmured solemnly, and though of course he could not have had any way of knowing, he had a strong suspicion that Raziel was smiling. In a fit of nonsensical giddiness, the great angel intoned: “Merry Christmas Eve eve,” and toasted it with a teacup.

TBC