Drabble Dump #8

{Have some random cute drabbles that’ve been sitting in my files for awhile–I wrote the Vlad/Uriel one in November and the Gabriel/Oliver one I wrote during work when it got slow to stave off boredom.}

HUGGING // Gabriel/Oliver

Gabriel always seems to know exactly when Oliver is cold, even when he’s not shivering. He comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around Oliver and hugging him tightly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low in Oliver’s ear.

“I don’t know,” Oliver sighs, leaning back against him. “Don’t you ever just get cold inside sometimes?”

“Not since I was human. My power keeps me plenty warm,” Gabriel says. He presses his nose against Oliver’s neck and breathes in deeply.

He feels warm and solid, like a cozy brick wall. “It must be nice to be warm blooded, or have blood at all,” Oliver says somewhat sourly.

Gabriel just harumphs and hugs him a little closer. Gradually, Oliver starts feeling warm; he barely remembers the sensation of a sip of hot tea slipping down his throat, back when he was human, and somehow Gabriel feels a lot like that.

“Thanks,” he says after a little while of resting back against Gabriel.

Gabriel smiles and kisses his cheek. “Of course. Any time you wish.”

Who Are You Really? // Vlad + Uriel

She held her own against a demon nearly too powerful for him, and then she hacked it into pieces on a whim and lit the corpse on fire with her mind.

Who are you? he thought, and aloud he said, “Why have you come here of all places?”

“I was bored and seething,” she said. “And I wanted to destroy things. Turns out I got my wish after all.”

“There is something distinctly… inhuman about you,” he said. He slowly circled around her.

“Getting warmer,” she said with a small smirk.

She was not a vampire or a witch or a demon, or indeed any other kind of creature he had ever seen. Nor a werewolf or anything of that sort, which left very few options left. He wanted to know.

He bared his teeth just a little and leaned over her shoulder, murmuring, “Who are you really?”

She didn’t twitch. So she had little fear, then, even knowing what he was. How dangerous he could be. And suddenly, more than anything, he wanted to know.

“I, Vlad Dracula,” she said, tilting her head and nearly brushing his cheek, “am the archangel Uriel, the light of God.”

His breath caught in his throat; for a moment, his vision blanked, and he had to take a step away to take her in again in light of this new revelation. She turned to look at him; he could not move.

The very thing he had sought for his entire life, a connection to the God he had so desperately wished to please, now stood here in front of him, and all he could do was stare and say somewhat dully, “An archangel.”

More important than anything in that moment was why she had not yet slain him. If he had just known, he could have born it easily, even willingly. The waiting and uncertainty threw him into confusion.

She peered at him. “Have you done something to make yourself worth slaying?”

Even all the time in the world would not be enough to account for every deed he has done—lifetimes of sin and violence which could never be atoned. He gives her a non-answer. She is much too innocent to realize what he means, and he cannot decide if he would rather have her know the truth.

Later, much later, Isaac’s library proved somewhat useful in his search for her identity. Uriel, the light of God, the angel of wisdom, shining the light of God’s truth into the darkness of confusion.

Had she been one of the intermediaries to whom he prayed? Did she know what he had done as he confessed his sins? He tried terribly hard to keep these thoughts from his mind lest he be tempted to find out and have her turn her light away from him.

For the first time in recent memory, he knelt in a circle of candles without the burden of guilt and prayed.

She appeared across the room with a rustle of wings, speaking his name, and he smiled.


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