Definitely dedicated to SaturnineSunshine, since she chivvied me into this.
The virtue of an angel is, for him, their propensity for falling. The most powerful of them all fell far enough to challenge Heaven, after all, to create a Hell for himself; Chuck Bass can sympathise. The city streets are awash with filth, filthy people filthy thoughts and he, the most treacherous, the most lecherous, the most self-destructive of all, walks among them with his head held high, searching for nobody.
At the same time, he knows his home is a paradise. It glitters as it gleams and promises every desirable thing but one: but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it; for in the day that thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die. Even in this, his derelict nirvana, some things are unforgiveable.
Blood flows hot in Adam, and he's what you'd call clean cut. All American. Perfect. He is a loving lamb to the slaughter, just right to be played by the game but never to understand its rules. He is fiercely loyal. He is noble to the last. He is a friend to the fallen, though he knows how wrong it is to trust a liar. Poor boy, he is staid and steady.
Poor entitled bastard.
Eve is unexpected, still perfect, not yet ripe but just about to be. She has a way about her, a way of judging by society's scripture and disregarding it, deciding for herself where to lay her offerings. She walks in the garden in her glory, glossy like the gloss on cherries, her mouth the same colour. For the mocking curl of her lips, for a flashing glance, he would wait.
There are souls writhing on the sidewalks and in the salons and ready to be corrupted, but for her he would wait.
He waits for Blair Waldorf to break the rules.
Most days, most lifetimes (for they repeat this cycle time after time, not quite knowing who is playing whom), she is absorbed by Adam, but every now and then she stretches on her toes and just touches the forbidden fruit, never quite out of her reach. She doesn't pluck until Adam is consumed, the creature she adores turning golden with his own guilt, and then temptation rises to slip beneath her skin.
'You really don't think I'll go up there.'
'I know you won't.'
Her first bite of the apple is pain, pleasure, unexpected grace for them both. Eve learns of good and evil and walks the line between, and then she realises she is naked to all intents and purposes, and he is looking at her, and his eyes are hot.
'You were...amazing, out there.'
So she falls from paradise, and he rises to meet her: an angel drawn to the dark side.
A devil redeemed.
Aren't they the same kind of sinner anyway?
'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned; it's been...a while since my last confession.'
For her, he would wait.
He waits for her to fall all the way this time.