Would you ever consider continuing Angel and Majesty? Maybe someone tries to use Angel to get to Majesty now that everyone knows there’s a relationship there?
“Look,” Angel said, through gritted teeth. “I’m not being funny, but you have to let me g—”
The other villain – Bloody Bane? His name was something lame like that, wasn’t it? – shoved a wad of material back into Angel’s mouth, and then slapped duct tape on for good measure.
“Oh,” the Bloody Bane said, “that is funny. That’s hilarious, Angel-cakes.” Maybe-Bloody-Bane and his goons all laughed accordingly. “But the grown-ups will be talking now, so you don’t have to. And you’re not going anywhere.”
Angel glared at them. He yanked the cuffs biting into his wrists, but of course it did no good, because the universe hated him. His powers were such that he could, in a pinch, manifest a rather gorgeous (if he said so himself) and strong pair of wings for himself and be a bit more durable than the average human. It did very little to help him when his wings had been chained to the floor with a really quite ridiculous level of precaution. As if he was the one they should be worried about.
The Bloody Bane had, less than half an hour ago, uploaded a little ransom video to the web, addressed to Majesty, with the absurd notion that he would somehow pay for Angel’s safe return. Absurd, not because Majesty wouldn’t come, but because he would and the idiots somehow thought that was a good idea that was going to work out well for them. For any of them.
The Bloody Bane stopped laughing, leaning down to meet Angel’s eyes. “Should have just done some peace keeping, hero. Got him to meet our demands in the first place, eh?”
That wasn’t, Angel had told the bastard before, how Majesty worked. It wasn’t how Angel worked when he managed to get Majesty to change his plans or spare people either. He wasn't some slot machine of unlimited favours for free. He didn’t bother putting himself through the indignity of trying to respond or explain again. Still, despite his annoyance, a larger urgency of uneasy continued to wash through him, so he yanked at the cuffs again, straining for some way out of the situation before Majesty turned up. Because that…well, that.
God.
It was easy to tell when Majesty showed up, because the screaming started about three seconds after that. One of the many things about Majesty was that he could only mimic voices that’s heard before. Which meant that, when the screams echoed through the room and all of the colour drained from Bane’s face, it was easy enough to guess that Majesty had been listening to someone Bane cared about howling like their life depended on it not so long ago.
Bane started to take a panicked, livid step towards Angel and…then one of Bane’s own men turned and shot the other man in the leg. Bane crumpled to the floor with a cry of his own, and the sound of screaming cut to dead silence.
Majesty strode into the warehouse, hands in his pockets, a ready chiding click on his tongue.
“Did you really,” he sounded amused, “threaten me?” He threw his head back, and when he let out a laugh, it was the same laugh as had spilled through the room from the goons at Bane’s prompting not so long ago.
Majesty was not even remotely amused.
The goons shivered. The smarter ones, at a cut of Majesty’s fierce gaze, fled towards the door. The not so smart ones squared themselves, raising weapons and – dropped with a cut of Majesty’s hand instead. Their eyes rolled back in their head, a strangled sound leaving them as their brain, well…
Majesty’s gifts were such that, in a pinch, he could echo and mimic the voices of anyone he’d ever heard. He could communicate telepathically. And, while he certainly couldn’t force anyone to do anything via mind control, he could most certainly fry their brain to mush in a heartbeat. All he had to do was be close enough. All he had to do was be in the room.
“Majesty—” Bane struggled to rise, cold sweat appearing on his face.
Majesty clicked his tongue, just once, and Bane had his first smart idea of the day and shut up.
Azra didn’t think it would be enough to save him, though. Not after what he’d done. His stomach sank. Majesty turned towards him, attention roaming over his chained down wings, and pausing on the gag.
Don’t, Angel thought, trying to radiate the words through his eyes. Please don’t. I’m—
Majesty grinned, savage and wild and something else. He pulled a knife from one of his many holsters, and stabbed it through Bane’s hand.
Angel squeezed his eyes shut, a muffled protest leaving him that Majesty ignored easily enough. When Bane broke down, begging Angel for help, begging him to stop Majesty, some twenty minutes later, Majesty merely laughed again.
“Bane,” the king of crime cooed, “he can’t talk. You made sure of that. So even he can’t possibly persuade me to stop.”
Some ten minutes after that, the room was silent except for Majesty and Angel’s breaths. Angel could feel himself shaking, but his body went completely still as Majesty’s footsteps sounded across the warehouse floor and stopped in front of him.
Angel forced his eyes open again, his heart slamming in his chest. His wings twitched with the desperate urge to fly. Or, at least, to vanish. But he couldn’t unmanifest them with the chains in place.
Majesty crouched in front of him, eye-level, seemingly perfectly at ease if one didn’t look too closely. He waggled his fingers in a mocking sort of ‘hi!’ when Angel met his gaze. There was nothing mocking, nothing casual, in his eyes.
Angel’s jaw clenched. There were, after all, a dozen different ways this could go.
“You know,” Majesty said, tapping two fingers gently to Angel’s bound lips, his voice not exactly his own. “Maybe I should just leave that on. Your uncanny and famous knack for talking me down is what got you into this mess in the first place, and I’m still of half a mind to chase down the rest of them who dared think they could lay a hand on you.”
Angel glared at him, too, before he could stop himself.
Majesty snorted, but pulled away the duct tape, and Angel turned his head to spit the material out with a grimace. He swallowed but his mouth still felt dry.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he rasped. “You didn’t have to—”
“He took what was mine. I don’t make exceptions for such utter insolence, you know that.”
“I was going to say,” Angel bit out, “that you didn’t have to torture and kill him in front of me. You ba-” He caught himself then. Because this…this was not the Majesty of kisses and hotel rooms that he was dealing with. This was still work.
Majesty’s head tilted. His voice was dreadfully soft, but finally his own. “Consider it your punishment for getting caught.”
Angel recoiled, not that there was anything he could really do, given he was still tied to a chair.
Majesty turned the key to the various chains, slick with Bane’s blood, over in his hand. “How did you get caught, Angel?”
“He threatened to blow up a building if I didn’t surrender.”
“And of course you, ever eager to spare the unnecessarily spilling of blood, instantly did as he asked.”
“It was pretty obvious he wouldn’t kill me, not after going to such effort to get hold of me.”
Majesty hummed. His attention scanned over Angel again. “And what if I decided that perhaps I show blow up a building, lest you think ever doing that again is a good idea?”
Angel yanked at the cuffs for a third and equally failed time, feeling the skin at his wrists break, raw from struggle. “Then I would simply remove myself from the bloody equation to spite you.”
Majesty’s eyes darkened at the tone, and he opened his mouth. In an instant, Angel could hear his own screams played back to him, loud enough to make him flinch. He’d been quiet at first, not willing to play ball when he realised what Bane was up to, but…
The room fell deathly silent between them.
Angel could feel his breath coming quick, ragged with adrenaline. He forced himself to exhale slowly in and out, fingers flexing behind his back.
“Look,” he said, in a more controlled sort of voice, “obviously if I knew he was gunning for you, I would have dealt with the situation differently. I’m not an idiot. You know I didn’t want this, or you wouldn’t have killed him in front of me. Also, with all due respect, it’s at least half your fault because, as noted, they were gunning for you. So stop being pissy with me about it. This isn’t how I wanted to spend my night either.”
Majesty said nothing for a long moment, but Angel could practically see the instant he shifted from Majesty, king of crime, to…whatever else he sometimes was with Azra.
“Are you alright?” he asked. He reached for the locks, undoing them one by one.
“Traumatised by you torturing someone in front of me.” Angel flickered his wings out of existence the second he could.
Majesty shot him a look, undoing the cuffs last. “I know your lines, Azra, and you know mine. I would accept that if I’d killed an innocent or a civilian in front of you.”
Angel grimaced, allowing that point, however much it had been really – well. Not good. But Majesty was not good, so that was hardly exactly a surprise. But Majesty was right. Angel hadn’t liked what Majesty had just done, but on the spectrum of everything that Majesty was capable of doing without remorse, it had been well within the limits. He wasn't entirely sure what that meant. His head was spinning.
The villain pulled him up, easily, out of the chair and into his arms. There was still a violence around Majesty, but it was…
“Wait. Were you genuinely worried for me?” Angel blinked, as the realisation struck him.
Majesty opened his mouth, as if to start the terrible sound of Angel screaming again, before snapped his jaw shut instead. That seemed a confession more than anything else.
Angel had known, the second Bane mentioned it, that Majesty would come for him. On principle. Not even a slither of doubt. He’d also known that Majesty did genuinely like him when they weren’t working, and even when Angel was working he seemed to be a to tolerated annoyance in Majesty's grand plans, but he hadn’t thought…well. Majesty was more than capable of sacrificing things he liked when they became a liability and were more trouble than they were worth.
Angel being actively used against him…honestly, Azra had thought that might have been the tipping point from ‘trouble’ to ‘more than he was worth’, but…
His mind played back Majesty’s entrance. His simmering fury. The scream, that wasn’t Majesty’s scream, that had perched in his mouth as so sharp and ready a response.
Majesty’s grip on him tightened, utterly scathing and utterly protective all at once.
“I’ll let the others live,” he said, leading Angel towards the door. “But not for you. It’s only that someone needs to pass on the message, it seems.”
Angel bit back a smile, because yeah. He was sure it was just that.
“Of course. Makes sense.”
Majesty shot another glance in his direction, grip still steadying around Angel’s waist.
They trudged out into the twinkling night.
“Thank you,” Angel said, quietly. “For coming to get me.”
It was nearly impossible in the darkness to tell if Majesty turned his head to scout their surroundings, or to brush a kiss against Angel's temples.
“Every time," he said.