Demonic Influence (I hate my co-workers)

I Love You and I'm Sorry

"I- I should go." Brett's left hand made vague grabbing motions behind him, searching for the door knob. Eddy felt frozen in place. Finally, Brett's fingers caught on the handle, and he went to push the door open again. And then he pushed again. And again.

The handle wasn't budging.

Turning back to Eddy and Mary, Brett asked in a weak, defeated voice, "Does it stick sometimes, or...?"

"Neither of you are leaving until you sort this out," Mary said, crossing her arms. "Sit down."

Brett looked at her like she had two heads. "Are you ordering me around?"

"Yes." Mary gave him a look almost as sharp as her nails.

Brett's chest puffed out slightly. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned. Eddy flinched. Please Brett, I really don't want to see this bubble tea employee get obliterated. The smell of cinnamon and cedar filled Eddy's nose.

"Then I guess it's a good thing that you're not me," Mary responded, tone dangerous. "Sit." When Eddy looked at her, her eyes were a startling, crackling blue.

"What are you?" Brett whispered, at the same time that he exclaimed, "You're a witch!"

From somewhere in the shop, the big white cat let out a strangled sort of meow.

Eddy smiled at Mary. Of course, how didn't I see that? Witches, while not common, often worked in tandem with demons. Unlike demons, however, witches weren't damned to hell.

There were really only two ways to become a witch. The first option would be to figure out something that no human should really figure out until they're dead. Every couple hundred years, a new person would stumble across a molted angel's feather or something of the like, and would push their limits just a bit too far and try and figure out where exactly it came from. The results, however, never failed to amuse.

The only other way to become a witch was to devote yourself to God, and then commit a big, unfixable sin. In simpler terms, the way Fred described it to Eddy: if a nun fucked up badly enough, then she would become a witch.

Brett, however, didn't look nearly as thrilled as Eddy to find out that Mary was a witch. Eddy ignored the look on his face and nodded knowingly. "Well, house rules, Brett. You invited yourself in, sit down." He winced slightly at how harsh his voice sounded, even to his own ears.

Brett walked slowly up to the two of them, biting his lip as he sat down, keeping an empty chair between Eddy and himself. Fair enough.

"Now, you two need to have a nice, civil chat." Mary said, glaring at the both of them. "Alone." And with that last sentiment, she got up and left.

Eddy turned back to face Brett. The former angel wasn't making eye contact, but rather, his gaze was focused firmly on the floor in front of him. Eddy cleared his throat.

"I don't want to talk to you," Brett muttered softly.

And that was when Eddy had it. Oh, screw it. "You know what, if anyone should not want to talk right now, it should be me!" he exclaimed. Brett poked his head up at the outburst. "I got kidnapped, not just by you, but also by heaven! They dragged me up there, basically tortured me, and then when you came in, you practically killed me by lying your ass off about everything I did to you." Eddy hissed that part out as controlled as he could muster, but that didn't stop Brett from flinching.

"I-"

"Oh no you don't," Eddy growled, interrupting him. "And then, they locked me up again, Brett. Alone! Do you know how hard that was? I couldn't tell if it had been days or months or only hours. And when someone did come for me..." Eddy trailed off, laughing darkly and leaning forward a little bit more. "Let's just say I preferred it when I was being left alone."

Guilt flashed in Brett's eyes. There was a moment of silence, and all their unsaid words seemed to dangle in the air around them. If Eddy tried, he bet that he could grab one right off it's invisible tether. Finally, Brett spoke. "What about the letter?"

"What letter?" Eddy snapped, before calming himself slightly. It wouldn't be until later that he would realize his eyes were flashing a dangerous ruby red.

"The one Fred sent you," Brett responded.

Eddy cocked his head, curiosity overpowering his anger for a moment. "You mean about the lasagna?" he asked. "I wouldn't have made you eat it."

"No no no, about the-" Brett stopped for a moment, rummaging through his jacket's pocket. "About me adjusting."

Eddy shook his head. "I never got any letter..." the words died in his throat as Brett handed the slightly crumpled piece of paper to him. He paused a moment, brow furrowing as he scanned the sheet. Finally, he looked back up at Brett. "Fred didn't write this," he said softly.

"W-what do you mean?" Eddy could practically hear Brett's heart beating, even from two stools down. It was clear the ex-angel's mind was racing, trying to make sense of the situation.

"I mean, if someone wrote this, it wasn't Fred. This isn't how he writes at all," Eddy said, examining the letter closer. "The parchment is different too."

"Well it has to have been him, it's signed by him and everything!" Brett said, now matching the confused look on Eddy's face perfectly.

Eddy snorted. "No way, Fred's signature is way more loopy. Trust me, I've been receiving letters from him for four hundred years."

"Well does he have a secretary?" Brett asked.

"No, he hasn't had one for quite some time," Eddy said. "I just don't know how this person knew so much about what was going on with us..."

"Have you ever considered the fact," Mary's voice came from the back of the store as she stepped into view, tentative, "that he might have trusted someone enough to talk to them about everything you two are going through?"

Brett shot a glance at Eddy, already beginning to ask the question.

Eddy was already answering him, a perplexed look on his face. "I'm not sure... maybe-"

Mary interrupted him. "And have you considered the fact that perhaps, just perhaps, that letter wasn't intended to be read out of context?"

Brett flushed slightly. Eddy's eyes widened as his mind made some connection that Brett's had yet to make.

"I may have overreacted," Brett murmured. "Mary's right. I'm sorry Eddy. I'm so, so sorry. I know you might not forgive me, and that's perfectly reasonable, but I just want you to know that-"

Whatever Brett might have said next was muffled and ultimately squashed by Eddy flying at him, over the stool in between them, and crushing Brett's smaller frame into his own. He was shaking, Brett realized, with another stab of guilt, and he just knew that if he looked up into his demon's eyes they would be flooded with tears.

"I love you." The words were whispered, though that changed nothing about their impact. Brett just moved to let his arms shakily move to clutch back around Eddy's skinny torso, hugging him back like he was going to lose him again. "I know, I know," he whispered, even as Eddy buried his head in the crook of his neck, "I love you too. I love you and I'm sorry." 

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A/N: Healing takes time, but they'll get there. :)