[ one of angel's eyebrows arches at that, lips parting to confirm that no, it doesn't hurt when aki brushes the covered backs of his fingers along his cheek, only making them flush darker. it's painfully obvious on angel's complexion, the sort of near transparency only a devil representing a fear of angels would carry. somehow it's aki brushing his hair out of his face that almost pushes angel to just leaving the car entirely. nothing in his expression shows it though, there's just a tension in his wings and thin shoulders. an animal poised to run. don't be nice, he thinks and knows aki can't help it.
then he blinks, dropping his gaze to the side, intending to not reply to that seatbelt comment at all when aki does it for him.
unconsciously he bites his tongue at the unnecessary nearness, the slight press of his body because it's a car and it's small and that's how it is when someone else reaches over you like that. as if it weren't enough, the bump however brief against his thigh nearly makes him jump. he wonders if aki is doing it on purpose and then immediately trashes the thought, because what would be the point?
chalk it up to aki's incurable kindness. nothing more.
still, when he swallows it feels a little sharp and the aftertaste of the strawberry wreathed in the scent of smoke that always lightly follows aki. as the devil hunter presumably draws back after securing him, angel stays carefully still, hands tucked under his own thighs, sleeves long enough they easily always cover his wrists. none of his clothes -- well he only has the bureau uniform and a plain white shift he arrived in when makima captured him anyway -- have ever fitted him but it doesn't seem to matter to anyone else and angel is too lazy and apathetic to mention it. ]
no subject
[ one of angel's eyebrows arches at that, lips parting to confirm that no, it doesn't hurt when aki brushes the covered backs of his fingers along his cheek, only making them flush darker. it's painfully obvious on angel's complexion, the sort of near transparency only a devil representing a fear of angels would carry. somehow it's aki brushing his hair out of his face that almost pushes angel to just leaving the car entirely. nothing in his expression shows it though, there's just a tension in his wings and thin shoulders. an animal poised to run. don't be nice, he thinks and knows aki can't help it.
then he blinks, dropping his gaze to the side, intending to not reply to that seatbelt comment at all when aki does it for him.
unconsciously he bites his tongue at the unnecessary nearness, the slight press of his body because it's a car and it's small and that's how it is when someone else reaches over you like that. as if it weren't enough, the bump however brief against his thigh nearly makes him jump. he wonders if aki is doing it on purpose and then immediately trashes the thought, because what would be the point?
chalk it up to aki's incurable kindness. nothing more.
still, when he swallows it feels a little sharp and the aftertaste of the strawberry wreathed in the scent of smoke that always lightly follows aki. as the devil hunter presumably draws back after securing him, angel stays carefully still, hands tucked under his own thighs, sleeves long enough they easily always cover his wrists. none of his clothes -- well he only has the bureau uniform and a plain white shift he arrived in when makima captured him anyway -- have ever fitted him but it doesn't seem to matter to anyone else and angel is too lazy and apathetic to mention it. ]