Untouchable

"Rolling the Film"

September, a month filled with the scent of pumpkin spice and the beginning of falling leaves, hosted one of the most cultured events of the 1940's.

The Cannes Film Festival.

Jareriel loved every aspect of the festival including all the spectacular motion pictures they projected onto a large screen. What the exuberant man didn't expect to see was the demon who almost disembodied him. His eyes rolled as the demon began to pace towards him. Jareriel quickly stood and rushed out of the Casino of Cannes.

"Wait!" Damien shouted as he quickly jogged to Jareriel, carrying a familiar brown leather bag.

"I don't speak to people who try and kill me!" Jareriel cried angrily.

"Just wait a God damn minute and let me return your stupid books!" He tossed the bag onto the ground, spilling the wordy contents onto the sidewalk.

Jareriel stopped in his tracks, turning back to the annoyed demon and questioned, "My books?"

"The ones you left on the train, you imbecile," He stared sternly at the aggravating angel, "Now take your books and come have a coffee with me."

Jareriel hesitantly grabbed the bag of books, looking down at his feet. Damien took one finger and rested it under Jareriel's chin. He lifted his chin up gently, looking into Jareriel's eyes.

"Coffee or no?" He smirked, "Don't make me tempt you."

"S-Sure," The angel choked out, becoming very red and embarrassed. 

The pair waltzed down the street of Cannes until they came across a little hole in the wall coffee shop named "Le Haricot Occupé". Damien opened the door for Jareriel as he quickly pranced inside. Damien smirked as a blush appeared lightly on his face.

They both browsed the menu before Damien decided to order, "On café noir et tout ce qu'il reçoit"

"O-Oh.. um.. oh, dear let's see.." He paused to recollect on his French.

"How long have you been in France and you don't know French?" Damien snapped, "What do you want?"

Jareriel, quietly, spoke to Damien "An espresso with milk and sugar"

Damien finished their order and made Jareriel find them a table. A small little table made for just the two was selected by the cherub. He pulled the darling wicker chair from the tabletop and gently sat, straightening his pants. Damien brought over the two mugs of steaming coffee. To himself, he thought, they represented him and Jareriel both perfectly. He sat with the angel and for the first time in a very long time, he felt loved. They both sipped their coffee and had pleasant conversations, mainly about what they both were up to in the last 51 years since the crash of Atlantic City that angered Jareriel. For the first time in those 51 years, Damien felt truthfully happy.

"A demon can never stay happy for long" he thought.