Inky ^beta

The bites on Pure’s shoulder were the very first marks Brutal checked for, pulling the angel into his lap on their- compared to Cupid’s, tolerable at best- bed. Before he even had a chance to catch his breath he was frozen under the blade the freak brought to his sweater, tearing just enough to set his shoulder free and reveal the bites that remained.

Brutal’s satisfied hum was music to the angel’s ears; not only were the marks left unhealed, but the nervous picking he’d done practically the moment the freak was out of his sight had left the bites in nearly the same condition. Even so, the nature of an angel eclipsed every thought in the shadow of regret and fear; and like a miracle Brutal noticed, cupping his cheek and leading his gaze down for their eyes to meet.

“What’s on yer mind, love?”

Despite everything Pure had done to hurt him, Brutal was still here; the angel struggled with the feeling of being completely inadequate in his presence. “Please, accept me.. A faulty angel that is no longer wanted in heaven.”

“‘Course- I want ya more than anythin’, darl’.” With that the freak pulled him in by the waist to kiss the bites that remained. “If I were there, I’d torture the lot of ‘em for bringin’ ya down like this.”

It didn’t exactly help that Pure was, instead, supposed to be protecting the freak that was sworn to him. “..Merci, but I am broken.”

Gentle as he could be, Brutal wiped a tear from the angel’s cheek before it could fall. “I thought the same, ‘til ya came back to me.”

There was that sunshine smile the freak loved to see, albeit bittersweet. “It’s true.. So long as you accept my falling, that you complete me. Everyday, this angelic body weakens. My wings drag and burden me, and a prayer may never fix me again. Yet..” He wrapped said wings around Brutal once more, the greatest feathery hug the freak could ask for. “I feel so strong by your side. I am no longer welcome to the home of which I was born, but you welcome me with open arms and tell me it will be alright. Merci. Merci..” The angel’s mind sang in unison with the demon’s sudden interjection.

I want to worship you.

“Someone as sweet ‘n beautiful as you, seems like ya didn’t belong in the first place.” Though he didn’t fully understand the nature of the angel assassin’s visit, he was starting to doubt that Pure was actually born in heaven; still, he wouldn’t push the issue. “The shitheads that visited me proved that their heads were so far up the lord’s ass they couldn’t see.” The angel giggled at that, seemingly not prepared to question who had come to steal his job. “There’s that pre’y laugh.. Yer stronger than those weak-minded dingos any damn day.”

“What is a.. Dingo?”

“A dumb dog, like the lot of ‘em.” The sound of the angel’s laughter a second time made Brutal’s heart swell, overcome with pride, strange as his emotions could be. “..I love you, Pure. Never leave me again, alright?”

Pure was stunned, heart tugging him forward and mind pulling away. Any words he could think of lodged in his throat, crumbling under the weight of sheer panic. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, to say what he truly wished to say- no, it must’ve been the demon trying to speak for him again. “..Oui, I promise. This is where I want to be.”

Even so, the angel would’ve never anticipated daily carnage and far beyond dangerous living conditions to become his new normal until it happened on its own. Holding Brutal’s hand as they wandered towards whatever chaos the freak would cause that day just felt right, even when logic told him it was very wrong. That wasn’t even accounting for how strange wandering the world without his mask felt; vulnerable, and against everything he was ever taught- but more free than ever before.

Pure was following the freak towards more bloodshed by the very next day, almost accustomed to the routine- though he swore that he would never shake the eeriness of bearing witness to so much violence and death at once.

Long ago, his teachings had put a name to it: wrath. His confidence that he’d never commit such a sin gave him relief each time he questioned his own complacency. The angel simply kept to himself, and on a few occasions he’d even just waited in the car; considering he’d just left Brutal behind and lived to severely regret it, he settled for sitting on the hood of the car instead. Of course, scattered blood would sometimes spray in his direction, though he'd grown accustomed to the inconvenience, so much so he'd smear it into his skin in an attempt to wipe it off as if it were sprinkles of rain.

He watched almost emotionless until his heartstrings were strummed in favor of admiring the beauty of his savior as he swung; Brutal truly was, true to his title, an untamed beast. He would swear that cutting down BLU mercenaries was only a hobby, but the look in his eyes argued that he needed the rush of violence like water and air. Yet every time the battle was said and done he would return to Pure, wrapping the angel in his arms and shedding the air of cruelty like it was never there in the first place. It was marvelous to witness; no other angel would ever call such a monster beautiful. Yet there Pure was, making a fool of himself.

“Could ya help me fetch alla my weapons, angel?” He was broken from his trance by the freak glancing back, smitten with a grin as he pieced together said angel’s dazed stare locked on him.

“Your.. weapons..” He echoed with a grimace; as much as Pure wished to insist that he was above such a task, and that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Brutal’s choice of hobbies, he was just as sure he still needed to make up for his recent string of mistakes. And so, he slid dreadfully slow from the hood of the car, treading even slower in the freak’s direction until he reached the Medic with a bonesaw lodged in his skull.

He had to admit, it wasn’t the worst sight of them all, a taste of bitter revenge for their previous encounter. The angel quite liked that feeling; the stench of death, however, was enough to spoil it, forcing him to grab the weapon sooner than later.

The second weapon was not so easy; Brutal’s machete was stuck nearly halfway down the BLU Scout’s chest, the cleanest and most unsettling slice Pure had ever seen. This blade was not so easy to pull free, and with a deep breath and even more reluctance, the angel squeezed his eyes shut and wiggled the machete free with all of his strength. The kill would’ve been an impressive feat, if it wasn’t so unsettling.

Pure didn’t notice Brutal looming over his shoulder, lit up with a devious idea. “Ya wanna learn how ta use that thing?”

The angel would’ve laughed, but it didn’t sound like the freak was kidding. “Why would I need to do that?”

“Ya gotta defend yerself somehow..” He paused, treading lightly. “Magic’ll only get ya so far. ‘Specially yers..”

“I insist, I will not be killing anyone.”

“Never said ya hafta, love. Use it ta protect yerself.. look.” Brutal took both of the angel’s hands in his own from behind, bringing them together with a firm grip on the machete. “‘N when someone swings at ya,” he lifted both of their arms sharply, tilting the blade against a nonexistent threat.

One fear wouldn’t leave Pure’s mind. “What if I hurt someone?”

The angel couldn't see the disbelief in Brutal’s frustrated expression. “…Ya gotta worry ‘bout yerself more.” His arms lowered without warning to trap Pure in a hug, both unrelenting and comforting. “For me?”

“Alright, alright.” Giggling and dropping the machete to the desert below, Pure tried to break free from the freak’s embrace to collect himself; even then, Brutal wouldn’t let him go. Instead he had gone silent, seemingly losing himself in thought somewhere along the way. “..Brutal?”

That was enough to catch his attention once more, concluding whatever thought had momentarily plagued him with a tender kiss to the back of the angel’s neck.

“How ‘bout we try somethin’ else, more up yer alley?” Brutal reached back just long enough to pull the bow from his back, placing it in Pure’s hands instead as he grabbed at a handful of the arrows in his quiver. The freak was rarely, if ever, patient enough to use them properly. He would more often than not use the arrows as brute force weapons on their own, surprisingly effective given he had the strength to do it. In fact, it was more surprising to the angel that Brutal even knew how to shoot an arrow in the first place.

The freak couldn’t have known that the bow reminded Pure of Cupid. The thought almost- almost- struck him with guilt, though he knew the love angel’s presence could never replace the chokehold Brutal had on his heartstrings.

“Angels sure do love these things, huh? Here..” Brutal aimed their bow at the brick rubble of BLU fortification, steadying the angel’s trembling hands.

“I do not think this is a good idea.. I assure you, I will be alright.”

The freak opted to ignore his protests. “C’mon.. All it takes is good aim, a flick ‘f the wrist, ‘n then..-” It was all a blur, and once the arrow had left their grip it was already too late. It was only Pure’s terrible luck that the arrow did not impact with the pile of bricks, but instead struck the BLU Spy sneaking past them right in the shoulder. As Pure’s face reflected his horror, Brutal’s reflected his pride. “Alright, love!”

“I think.. That is enough for now.” Pure’s voice was weak, a combination of fear of sin, shame and morbid curiosity all at once; clearly, he wasn’t firm enough to fight the freak’s insistence, though he did free himself with the bow in hand. “Aw, yer only just beginnin’!”

“I don’t want to risk anything..” Even then, the angel barely spoke above a whisper. “I only practically banished myself from the heavens yesterday, what are you planning?” Judging the smirk on Brutal’s face, he was prepared for just about anything his feeble angelic mind could comprehend.

“C’mon, ya don’t think that low ‘f me, do ya?”

Pure just frowned. “In this instance? Yes.”

That was fair enough. “How ‘bout ya practice with..” Brutal’s finger shot towards a discarded can of soda in the distance. “That! Harmless, ain’t it?”

“I suppose..” The angel didn’t have any reason to doubt- yet at least, and so he raised the bow in the direction of his target. When his aim remained unsteady he closed his eyes; one deep breath after the other, until he’d drowned out everything but himself and the empty can. Then, he let go. He’d expected swift victory when the arrow pierced the dead center of the old can of Bonk, only for it to slice right through and hit the man that left it behind in the knee.

“See? Yer a bloody natural!” Brutal cheered, though the angel wasn’t nearly as impressed with himself. Pure shoved the bow back into the freak’s arms with a scowl, finally fed up enough to speak firm.

“..I will not be doing that again. Just because I will not interfere with your bloodshed does not mean I will assist.”

“Look, Pure.. I din’ mean for that ta happen, alright?” When the angel started to walk away, Brutal lost his own cool. “Fine then.. See if I care.” He most definitely did, watching the angel from where he stood as if he was the one in need of protecting; truthfully, he couldn’t lose Pure again.

Pure just needed some space, anything he could do to convince the freak to listen. He hardly planned on walking very far; if he did, he would’ve paid much more attention to the bodies strewn across the ground. More specifically, the arm he would soon trip over and narrowly land on his feet with a thud and, much to his own horror, an expletive.

“Fuck!”

He gasped, slapping both hands over his mouth and processing the grave error. Surely, it wasn’t any worse than when he’d grumbled the same in French under his breath, right? Just as he’d convinced himself, he made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder to make sure that the freak didn’t hear; not only did Brutal hear it but he’d already started wandering over, grabbing the angel’s wrists and shaking them excitedly.

“Again,” Pure had never seen him so giddy, though he wasn’t any less confused. “C’mon love, again. Fuck! Loud as ya can.”

For an angel like him, such cursing was entirely out of the question, even if he’d already slipped up a handful of times. “Non, it was simply a slip of the tongue-”

“Fuck! Fuck it all! Not stoppin’ ‘til ya say it.” The freak’s grin was all it took; the longer Pure spent around him, the more he realized how terrible he was at resisting temptation. “Fuck yer god, fuck yer fortress-”

“Why don’t you shut the…” There was a pause, and Brutal listened closely as the angel’s voice shrunk to a murmur. “Fuck... up?” Pure smiled awkwardly, dumbfounded rather than serious and eager for the freak’s validation.

“That’s it, love! Louder for me, c’mon.”

“Fuck..” Pure repeated again, this time only stating it plainly.

“Louder.. FUCK!” Brutal set a rather impressive example, the angel was sure his voice had echoed all the way into town.

This time, the deity inhaled; bracing to go big or go home, he finally gave the freak what he wanted. “FUCK!”

“Damn straight!” Brutal clapped and cheered, though in the end he was unable to contain the contagious laughter he’d contracted from the angel’s own excited giggling. “Feel better?”

“Surprisingly? Yes.”