Betrothed

"Archangel Gabriel, I beseech thee, lend to me blessed presence and I shall give thee my devotion..."

V2 called in that familiar prayer, and Gabriel answered, sitting on the linen bedsheets of his circular bed. The wrinkles and crinkles of his bedsheets created a sprawling ocean across his soft mattress, specially redesigned for a 7 foot machine and a 7.5 foot tall angel to fit square across it. V2's pillow sat vertical on the bed, still rumpled from when it had spent the night, and Gabriel couldn't stand to restore it when he was making the bed in the morning. Gabriel's pillow sat fluffed and ready. They would probably end up swapping pillows when V2 spent the night again, as it always said 'his pillows were of higher quality.' He never minded, though. He frequently took V2's side of the bed, claiming it was more comfortable than his own.

"Heavens above, V2. You do not have to call upon me in such a way whenever you need me."

"I need your attention."

You always need my attention, he thought to himself, but would never say out loud, mostly due to the fear of being accused of hypocrisy.

Gabriel looked upon where the reflection of V2 sat in his gauntlet as he raised it to the level of his eyes. The gauntlet was a portal to his lover— his own personal sight of V2 whenever he needed to be sure that it was alright. Such was the functions of guardian angels: documenting sins, reporting to the Heavens, deciding the fate of doomed or saved souls. Gabriel was not originally made as a lowly guardian angel, but as the representative angel of messengers and peacekeepers, he had a personal duty to watch over the last peacekeeper alive, sealed with a heavenly vow of blood. He'd made that promise to V2 over a campfire, and he certainly wasn't going to break it now, even if the circumstances for the bond had long since passed.

He was paying the price for that guardianship now. V2 was scavenging for supplies on Earth while Gabriel was gathering his keepsakes up in the Fixed Stars. They were making a little nest amongst the ruins of the Earth, and V2 had sent him out a day ago to clean his tower, ushering him out of the door. Each ring of heaven was in utter chaos and confusion after the sudden 'abdication' (massacre) of the council, and Gabriel did his best to try to guide more foolish angels than himself down the right paths of vowing to 'do unto others as one would have done to oneself,' or whatever. Truthfully, he was trying to lessen the chaos. He grew accustomed to the flapping of wings and angelic shouting outside of his little tower, occasionally silencing the massive fuss by blowing his horn and demanding complete quiet. As most angels were generally predisposed to obedience, he tended to enjoy his peace and quiet more often than not— he only tolerated the noise when it was clear that whatever was going on was clearly not his problem. He'd been trying to cut back on managing everything; that simply wasn't his job, and it shouldn't have been his job.

The only one who was allowed to disturb any sort of quiet he had was V2. And here V2 was, disturbing that quiet. The things he did for love.

He tried to screw nonexistent eyes to observe V2 more closely. It was seated at a table of some kind, and in front of it was a set of candles, two sets of dishes, silverware, and a vase. It had donned a black tuxedo— some seams torn and clearly hand-stitched back together, but cleaned with the painstaking effort and precision that made it clear V2 had handled the garments.

"Gabriel. You're late for dinner."

"Dinner?" He thought aloud— "I see you are clothed."

"Do you like it?" V2 fixed its tie to perfect symmetry and precision.

"I do." Gabriel hummed. V2 was rather nice to look at, and he wasn't going to hide it. "It's striking against your paint color."

"What a flatterer." V2 chuckled.

"On what occasion are you wearing such garments for? Indulge me."

V2 looked nowhere but ahead of it— by that look in its lens, though, he could tell that it was engaged in deep thought, weighing weighted nodes according to real but very much arbitrary inputs. "According to my activation date, and the time elapsed since we left Hell, it is February 14th. Are you much familiar with human traditions?"

"No. Go on." He leaned back on the bed, taking off the gauntlet that showed him V2 so he could massage his sore muscles. Since he could not borrow strength from the Lord anymore, he was on his own. Some of the statues around the council's old parliamentary buildings needed a little bit of rearranging; his max weight was 5 tons, and lugging around 4.9 ton monuments all day was not anybody's (especially not the sinners of Greed) ideal plan. Maybe Sisyphus would enjoy it. He stood corrected.

"February 14th was Valentine's Day. It honors St. Valentine. Though he was not the patron saint of love specifically, it was argued frequently that he was the patron saint of the engaged. Many instances of courtly love would be displayed on his feast day, and thus the day was associated with the celebration of love."

Gabriel's face was hot, but he tried to maintain his calm. If he stammered or stuttered any bit, his voice must have been terribly amplified in the room V2 was hosting their little dinner in, so it would draw conclusions that were obviously and heretically incorrect, like him being nervous about seeing V2 again, or him being excited that V2 was acknowledging their love at all. Though they had been together for the better part of a decade now, any sort of recognition made Gabriel weak in the knees. And for a machine, might he add. How low he had stooped! (And how much he enjoyed it! How much he craved to lower his helm to tap it against the top of V2's visor! How much he adored feeling its fingers grab onto the straps of his armor! How deep in the throes of love, he was!)

"Are you saying we are engaged?"

"We are not wed. I figure this is a fitting occasion."

"Fair point." Gabriel sighed, attempting to control the tremors wracking his jaw. "When would you like to see me?"

"I would prefer that you are ready within the hour. I am making your dinner by hand."

Gabriel looked about his home— or, the remnants of it. Most of the books had been taken off the shelves and stored in a secure pod on Earth, under V2's constant supervision (and occasional indulgence). Many of his belongings had already been transferred to Earth as well, spaces left empty on his desk and shelves where he would have stored sacred items, altars, and lit candles. Candle wax had been scraped off of the marble windowsill, and the gold window had been opened to let in fresh air. A cool breeze buffeted his curtains, tidal waves letting pools of delicious light in from the scattering, starry remnants of where their Lord once sat— the Primum Mobile.

He supposed he had gotten as much work done today as he would ever get done. He could have his armor waxed and his swords ready in an hour.

"Yes. I will bring blood for you. I remember you saying it had been hard to come by recently." That was true. The solar panels embedded into its chest and body seemed to help it recharge and brave the conditions of Earth, where blood was seemingly quite scarce. Ever since the machines had perished in the downfall of Hell, Gabriel had often caught his lover lying supine in the sun when he stole indulgent glances upon it. He did not glance too often, lest he fall victim to his lust for its beautiful visage, but when he did, he could recall each detail perfectly: one red arm would rest beneath its head and the other golden and green arm would rest beside its hip, holding onto its trusty 'Marksman' revolver. It was an unreasonable, irrational desire to look upon it and drink in every detail— from the angles and sharp edges of its body to the gentle curves and dips of its elegant movements. He feared not for any kind of embarrassment: it looked at him just as much as he looked at it.

"Oh, Gabriel." It let out a relieved puff of air. "What a sweetheart you are. You spoil me."

It was right. He did spoil it. He spoiled it beyond belief. The first time he'd taken V2 to the Heavens, he'd demanded silence in its honor, and allowed it to freely wander Heaven, pointing out the constellations he'd befriended and the ones he'd never seen before. No angels, Virtue or not, would roam near Gabriel's beloved guest. Gabriel sent the message that V2 was his honored guest, and the rest was pure implication and speculation. They did not need any promises of riches, nor verbal exclamations and grand declarations— they were not loud about it. Both knew the value of concise statements and messages fit for the right people, and both preferred to love in some elegant and silent dance of recompense. He saw how V2 walked behind him, how it kept a hand on his back and linger around, how it brushed their wings against each other and especially how it enjoyed spending hours picking Gabriel's wings free of feathers. It never expressed fear openly, but in the few moments where they laid together— where Gabriel cradled it and wrapped them in the softest, most plush blankets imaginable... where its visor peeked over his shoulder and its arms wrapped around his midsection, where his legs engulfed its own... Gabriel would speak Scripture to it, telling it his love expected nothing in return but its commitment, sparked only by the thought that it might be fearful of any imbalance of devotion between them. That much was true— he knew it did not owe him anything, and he owed it everything.

(Some part of him took great pleasure in watching it dance amongst clouds to the sound of his harp, though. Some part of him liked feeling V2's plating against his skin, liked running his fingers across the meticulously restored scratches and buffed scrapes, liked feeling it breathe. Breathe. Protected and safe in his hold, protecting and saving him. Wings twitching or rattling as it purred against his bare chest. He loved their little whispers to each other, like somebody could walk in and disturb them at any moment. He loved leaning in all close, like it was telling him a secret he wasn't supposed to tell anyone. He stole that bit of indulgence away and kept it for himself.)

"Don't let it get to your head, machine." Gabriel snarked, getting up from his bed and sliding his gauntlet on. He heard a laugh from V2. Of course V2 let it get to its head.

"See you in an hour, angel. I allow thee to leave me. I require assistance no more."

Once V2 had put out the candle and ended the prayer, Gabriel's eyes swept the room, looking for polish to take to it and wax for his own armor. He had to get all nice and shiny for his date— he could not stumble in that room, or beam down to V2's doorstep with his armor covered in scuffs and dust. It would not do. He would embarrass himself, and he could not do that in front of the machine that he liked to impress the most.

His eyes fell upon the Key of St. Valentine, as well as a necklace with a ring strung on it.

Better late than never, he supposed.

(What he did not see in V2's pocket was a box— and in that box was a ring. Small enough to fit under Gabriel's gauntlet. Large enough for him to admire it. Inside of the ring, V2's serial number was inscribed, next to the Cross of Life. It was in gold, because Gabriel loved gold, and V2 loved Gabriel.

Better late than never.)