February 2018
Devil's Angel - Parts 1-3
The light drizzle peppered his blond curls with water droplets, not that he minded. There was something pleasant about experiencing the rain, even with as light as it had become during his drive to the art museum. He locked his car and it beeped as a family passed him, the children running ahead in raincoats and boots laughing as they splashed about in the rain. At first the parents were annoyed but as they passed him, their anger and annoyance, their fears and societal standards melted away and the parents continued on smiling and joining the children in their enjoyment of the rain.
His own enjoyment of both the rain and the children’s delight diminished at the reminder he was just pretending to be human. Closing his eyes briefly, he focused on himself and drew his angelic aura back in, wrapping it around himself tight so as not to influence another, negatively or positively.
When he opened them, he started walking towards the museum entrance.
The amount of guests at the museum was so low that he eventually found himself wandering through one of the galleries by himself. Now, granted, he was one of the slower patrons of the museum - what with taking in the entire piece and reading the informational plaques and simply experiencing - that this came to no surprise. Instead, he relished the brief moment alone and eased up a bit on his control fully aware of the cameras located in the spaces. He didn't do much outwardly but even just easing up his hold on his aura was a relief. It was like a weight was lifted partially off his shoulders. The weight wouldn't fully leave until he returned completely to his angel form - wings and all - but it was enough for him to truly enjoy the experience.
Every now and then he would forget about how much he influenced humans and the passing worker or group that was touched by his aura would relax more as his enjoyment spread to them. He felt bad but did nothing to fix it. It didn't hurt to encourage the enjoyment of the arts. After all, a few that passed seemed to have needed his aid, not that he could blame them. For a human with stimulation everywhere and elsewhere, a museum could seem boring, but at least the enjoyment his aura carried seemed to help them create a visit that was truly enjoyable for them. He still hadn't figured out how the emotional influences worked. He hadn't ever tried to push it either but he knew with near absolute certainty that his influences were never beyond what that given person would normally do.
“Beautiful piece, isn’t it?”
Michael blinked, bringing himself out of his thoughts to look at the very handsome man standing to his left. He carefully drew his aura to himself, offering with a kind smile, “It certainly is.” He looked back at the piece. “I always enjoy wandering through the older galleries. The amount of work that goes into every piece astounds me every visit.”
His sudden companion hummed in agreement. “Paints, canvases, tools, all of it made by hand and taught from master to apprentice. Quite the amount of work.”
“But that doesn’t negate the beauty of modern day pieces where materials and supplies are far easier to access, either,” he amended. “Sometimes having such things more readily available and in wider variety helps the process.” He shrugged. “It solely depends on the artists themselves.”
“So what is your favorite era of art?”
He smiled again, this time softly. “I don’t really have one. Each era has so much variety that it’s hard to pick. All of what man has created is magnificent and breathtaking.”
His companion chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”
He looked to his companion but the man was looking at his phone, an amused look on the handsome face. He tensed slightly when his companion’s gaze met his own. He found the brown eyes of this stranger were so rich in color, they almost looked red.
“I must get going,” his companion informed him, giving him a wave with the hand still holding his phone. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”
“I hope your day remains joyous as well,” he responded, taking a step after the man without a thought.
Said man smiled and it looked sharp on the edge. “I plan to.”
Left alone once more, he sighed and let his aura uncurl a bit again. While humans weren’t always perceptive to his aura moving around them, that particular human had been rather close and he hoped that the man had not been one of the more perceptive of the human race and had noticed him pulling his aura back in.
He found himself fretting about it too much to enjoy the rest of the gallery. Before he could even make it to the next one, though, he felt the phone in his coat breast pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and found a text from work. Seemed they were short staffed and he was being asked to fill in if he was able to. No longer in the mood to wander the museum, he suppressed his aura fully and started for the exit.
The drive was short and the lot reserved for staff barely had any cars speaking volumes to how low staffed they really were today. He parked quickly and hurried through the back door.
"Michael!"
It was Ryan, one of the best bakers in the whole shop. A glance over revealed the man covered head to toe in flour, not so short hair standing in every direction and a nice gradient from the brilliantly blue hair to the palest of blues due to the flour coating the dyed strands. The man grinned at him, blue eyes flashing with joy. "Man! Are we glad to see you. Get changed. Margaret needs a hand on the floor."
"Where are the bosses?" he asked, crossing to the lockers hidden behind a wall in the kitchen.
"Here," a gruff voice answered him as a burly man appeared at the entrance to the small space that housed the lockers. "Change quickly, Engel. As much as much as my sister enjoys being on the floor, we need her in the back helping Ryan."
Michael yanked his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in a white undershirt. "Who's on floor?"
"Rebecca." Michael gave his boss a skeptical look as soon as his head was free of his uniform shirt. Said boss merely mirrored the look, raising an eyebrow. "She's not a cook, Engel."
"She's not a barista either, Boss," Michael countered, rushing to get into his dress pants, a bonus to keeping a spare uniform at work for days like these.
"Thus why my sister is on the floor. Replace her and we won't have to worry about it."
Michael nodded and slipped beyond the burly man. It was easy to find his other boss and trade off. He got into the flow of filling drinks as Rebecca worked register and gathering requested food.
It was insane in the popular cafe and Michael wasn't sure how they were handling all this with only five people on staff. He spotted his gruff boss slipping out of the back a few times to wipe down tables before disappearing into the back again. It was a relief when Nate showed up for his shift. Rebecca left and Michael traded with Nate. Nate was one of their best coffee makers and Michael had no problem manning the register. He was surprisingly good at it, though he was rather doubtful when his bosses always seemed to point at him when the tip jar was just that much fuller at the end of the day, regardless if he was on drinks or at the register.
"Here’s your cake. Your drink will be ready in a moment," he happily informed the customer he passed the warm slice of cake to. He watched long enough to see the customer slide over to the drink line that had only a few people in it. They were doing great, even as the gruff boss wandered out to do a cleaning run of the tables, floor, and bathrooms. "What can I get started for the next person in line?" he called out, turning his hazel gaze on the next customer with a welcoming smile and his full attention.
He found the almost red gaze of his brief museum companion. The man had an amused smile on his face as he ordered, “A tall, black coffee, please.”
“Regular or decaf,” he responded on rote, coming out of his startled staring as the words left his mouth. He forced his gaze to the register so that he didn’t accidentally type the wrong thing in.
“Regular is fine.”
“Three fifty.” There was a tap on his shoulder as the man before him pulled out a credit card.
It was his gruff boss. “Dinner break. I’m here to take over.”
Michael nodded, tearing the receipt from the printer and passing it to the man on the other side of the counter with a smile. “Here’s your receipt. Your coffee will be right up.”
He slipped into the back, letting out a shaky breath. What were the odds the man simply showed up at his place of work? Either he had a stalker now or it truly was only coincidence. He jerked back when a plate was shoved into his face. He looked up to find Ryan grinned at him. "Orders from the bosses: dinner on the house."
The plate held one of his favorite sandwiches they sold as well as a chicken wrap and what they called chisps. They were baked potato slices that were seasoned to excellence and were far better than any potato chip. "You all are life savers." He hasn't realized he had even been hungry till the plate was in his face.
"You're the life saver here, Michael," his other boss called from somewhere in the kitchen.
Michael chuckled. "I'll be out back if you need me."
Ryan gave him a salute and Michael slipped out the back door into the quiet space tucked away for breaks. Every bite was savored but he kept an eye on the clock. He wasn’t quite done yet.
Michael made it home far too late for a day off. His bosses were gracious enough, though, to swap his shift tomorrow for one later in the day. At least now he could sleep in. The door opened into his dark living space. He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother with a light. The blinds didn't keep out much of the street lamp light so while he couldn't see details, he could see furniture and anything that could possibly be on the floor.
His room was equally dark, illuminated as well from the street below. He stripped from his work clothes and left them where they fell on the floor. He grabbed the sleep pants on the messy bed and yanked them on sleepily. Screw doing anything else. He clambered into bed and settled down, his brain running far too fast for his exhausted body.
It kept coming back to the customer just before his break, not that he could figure out why. A part of him felt like he should recognize the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee, the one that had joined him in the gallery.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the shadows playing faintly on his ceiling. As much as the man had been attractive, God had decreed for no same sex relations among the angels. Michael threw an arm over his eyes, wondering if He even knew that Michael was struggling against such a decree, than Michael was very certain that he was very gay if his thoughts swirling around Mr. Tall Black Coffee were anything to go by.
He prayed none of his brothers and sisters in Heaven and on Earth were going through this as well. It was infuriating and stressful and quite terrifying. He wasn't sure what God would do if He found out about Michael's affinity for the same sex.
A thought made him shudder; what if Jesus found out? The past couple millennia had not left the Son of God untouched and Michael was certain that corruption had touched the once pure soul. After all, how could a single creation take on all the sins of man and step away untouched by the experience? Michael felt his heart go out to his brothers and sisters in Heaven dealing with Jesus in his absence. It wasn't often that Jesus listened to him when being told off but being the elder helped, marginally. Jesus was such an ass now that he barely listened to anyone, striving with his own agenda with God blind to it all.
Michael rubbed at his face, changing thoughts. He found too much focusing on Jesus would summon him and he'd rather not deal with the younger on the mortal world.
His thoughts turned back to the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee and almost wished they hadn't. While he was glad that he wasn't bound to summon Jesus now - hopefully - he could do without the damning thoughts.
“So this is where you’ve chosen to stay for your stay down here?”
Michael jerked upright, hand moving as if to draw a weapon only to still as his gaze landed on the one and only Jesus. The Son of God had a rather pleased look on his face, a glint in his eye that Michael didn’t care for. The hand that had moved towards an absent weapon grabbed at the sheets, throwing them off as he commented sharply, "Heaven above, Jesus. Are you trying to kill me before I have fulfilled His Plan?"
He stood up, offering his brother a soft smile. Despite the heart attack it was nice to see a face from home, even if it was Jesus. "I do hope you're not causing much mischief down here, Brother. Come," he gestured towards the bedroom door, "let's talk in the kitchen. Do you want anything to drink?"
“I’m not here for a lengthy visit, Brother,” Jesus spoke. A grin replaced the sudden stoic expression. “In fact, I was actually here visiting someone far less pleasant than you and it got me thinking.”
Michael took a step back, finding his Brother’s face far too close to his own.
“It’s been a while since I’ve dropped by to see how you’ve been handling among all the sin of man.” His grin grew even more. “Corrupted, yet?”
Michael adapted a blank expression. “Are you so eager to cast another Sibling from Heaven, Jesus?”
Jesus took a couple steps back, shrugging with a smile. “You know I would never want such a thing, dear Brother. Father holds you far higher than any of the angels in Heaven, even the Archangels, of which you are one of.” The look he sent Michael was vicious. “It would be so sad for Father to cast out another Archangel. Could you imagine the chaos that would ensue? The fear? There would be no telling who would go next!”
Michael’s expression broke. “What happened to you, Jesus?” he asked earnestly. He spread his hands to his sides. “You used to be so kind, so caring, and now you’re nearly as bad as the humans and demons here on Earth and in Hell.”
He should have watched his tongue as he found his back hitting the mattress hard, Jesus’s hand around his throat. “You forget your place, Brother,” Jesus threatened as he grabbed at Jesus’s wrist with both hands. “Or would you rather I toss your pathetic excuse of an Archangel ass to join Lucifer in Hell? I’m sure he would love your company and love it even more to corrupt you into nothing more than a pleasure slave.”
Michael kicked the other hard in the gut, getting some distance between them enough for Michael to breathe and sit up, on guard for another attack. Jesus didn’t go very far and Michael glared at him when the other’s face was placed inches from his. “Step out of line again, dear Brother, and I will not hesitate to get you thrown out of Heaven just like Lucifer.”
Michael blinked and Jesus was gone. He didn’t dare relax, standing and checking his small condo apartment for any signs that Jesus had lingered. With every inch searched, Michael allowed himself to sink down on the edge of the couch with a heavy sigh. Burying his face into his hands, Michael tried to quell the soft tremors coursing through his body from the adrenaline and fear. Even with Michael being the older, Jesus’s threat was not one to be taken lightly. God was blind to what Jesus had become and Michael was going more and more concerned that something had happened to turn God’s gaze from His Son.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, asking the silence, “Why me?”
There wasn’t an answer.
He hadn’t expected one anyways.
His own enjoyment of both the rain and the children’s delight diminished at the reminder he was just pretending to be human. Closing his eyes briefly, he focused on himself and drew his angelic aura back in, wrapping it around himself tight so as not to influence another, negatively or positively.
When he opened them, he started walking towards the museum entrance.
The amount of guests at the museum was so low that he eventually found himself wandering through one of the galleries by himself. Now, granted, he was one of the slower patrons of the museum - what with taking in the entire piece and reading the informational plaques and simply experiencing - that this came to no surprise. Instead, he relished the brief moment alone and eased up a bit on his control fully aware of the cameras located in the spaces. He didn't do much outwardly but even just easing up his hold on his aura was a relief. It was like a weight was lifted partially off his shoulders. The weight wouldn't fully leave until he returned completely to his angel form - wings and all - but it was enough for him to truly enjoy the experience.
Every now and then he would forget about how much he influenced humans and the passing worker or group that was touched by his aura would relax more as his enjoyment spread to them. He felt bad but did nothing to fix it. It didn't hurt to encourage the enjoyment of the arts. After all, a few that passed seemed to have needed his aid, not that he could blame them. For a human with stimulation everywhere and elsewhere, a museum could seem boring, but at least the enjoyment his aura carried seemed to help them create a visit that was truly enjoyable for them. He still hadn't figured out how the emotional influences worked. He hadn't ever tried to push it either but he knew with near absolute certainty that his influences were never beyond what that given person would normally do.
“Beautiful piece, isn’t it?”
Michael blinked, bringing himself out of his thoughts to look at the very handsome man standing to his left. He carefully drew his aura to himself, offering with a kind smile, “It certainly is.” He looked back at the piece. “I always enjoy wandering through the older galleries. The amount of work that goes into every piece astounds me every visit.”
His sudden companion hummed in agreement. “Paints, canvases, tools, all of it made by hand and taught from master to apprentice. Quite the amount of work.”
“But that doesn’t negate the beauty of modern day pieces where materials and supplies are far easier to access, either,” he amended. “Sometimes having such things more readily available and in wider variety helps the process.” He shrugged. “It solely depends on the artists themselves.”
“So what is your favorite era of art?”
He smiled again, this time softly. “I don’t really have one. Each era has so much variety that it’s hard to pick. All of what man has created is magnificent and breathtaking.”
His companion chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”
He looked to his companion but the man was looking at his phone, an amused look on the handsome face. He tensed slightly when his companion’s gaze met his own. He found the brown eyes of this stranger were so rich in color, they almost looked red.
“I must get going,” his companion informed him, giving him a wave with the hand still holding his phone. “Enjoy the rest of your visit.”
“I hope your day remains joyous as well,” he responded, taking a step after the man without a thought.
Said man smiled and it looked sharp on the edge. “I plan to.”
Left alone once more, he sighed and let his aura uncurl a bit again. While humans weren’t always perceptive to his aura moving around them, that particular human had been rather close and he hoped that the man had not been one of the more perceptive of the human race and had noticed him pulling his aura back in.
He found himself fretting about it too much to enjoy the rest of the gallery. Before he could even make it to the next one, though, he felt the phone in his coat breast pocket vibrate. He pulled it out and found a text from work. Seemed they were short staffed and he was being asked to fill in if he was able to. No longer in the mood to wander the museum, he suppressed his aura fully and started for the exit.
The drive was short and the lot reserved for staff barely had any cars speaking volumes to how low staffed they really were today. He parked quickly and hurried through the back door.
"Michael!"
It was Ryan, one of the best bakers in the whole shop. A glance over revealed the man covered head to toe in flour, not so short hair standing in every direction and a nice gradient from the brilliantly blue hair to the palest of blues due to the flour coating the dyed strands. The man grinned at him, blue eyes flashing with joy. "Man! Are we glad to see you. Get changed. Margaret needs a hand on the floor."
"Where are the bosses?" he asked, crossing to the lockers hidden behind a wall in the kitchen.
"Here," a gruff voice answered him as a burly man appeared at the entrance to the small space that housed the lockers. "Change quickly, Engel. As much as much as my sister enjoys being on the floor, we need her in the back helping Ryan."
Michael yanked his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in a white undershirt. "Who's on floor?"
"Rebecca." Michael gave his boss a skeptical look as soon as his head was free of his uniform shirt. Said boss merely mirrored the look, raising an eyebrow. "She's not a cook, Engel."
"She's not a barista either, Boss," Michael countered, rushing to get into his dress pants, a bonus to keeping a spare uniform at work for days like these.
"Thus why my sister is on the floor. Replace her and we won't have to worry about it."
Michael nodded and slipped beyond the burly man. It was easy to find his other boss and trade off. He got into the flow of filling drinks as Rebecca worked register and gathering requested food.
It was insane in the popular cafe and Michael wasn't sure how they were handling all this with only five people on staff. He spotted his gruff boss slipping out of the back a few times to wipe down tables before disappearing into the back again. It was a relief when Nate showed up for his shift. Rebecca left and Michael traded with Nate. Nate was one of their best coffee makers and Michael had no problem manning the register. He was surprisingly good at it, though he was rather doubtful when his bosses always seemed to point at him when the tip jar was just that much fuller at the end of the day, regardless if he was on drinks or at the register.
"Here’s your cake. Your drink will be ready in a moment," he happily informed the customer he passed the warm slice of cake to. He watched long enough to see the customer slide over to the drink line that had only a few people in it. They were doing great, even as the gruff boss wandered out to do a cleaning run of the tables, floor, and bathrooms. "What can I get started for the next person in line?" he called out, turning his hazel gaze on the next customer with a welcoming smile and his full attention.
He found the almost red gaze of his brief museum companion. The man had an amused smile on his face as he ordered, “A tall, black coffee, please.”
“Regular or decaf,” he responded on rote, coming out of his startled staring as the words left his mouth. He forced his gaze to the register so that he didn’t accidentally type the wrong thing in.
“Regular is fine.”
“Three fifty.” There was a tap on his shoulder as the man before him pulled out a credit card.
It was his gruff boss. “Dinner break. I’m here to take over.”
Michael nodded, tearing the receipt from the printer and passing it to the man on the other side of the counter with a smile. “Here’s your receipt. Your coffee will be right up.”
He slipped into the back, letting out a shaky breath. What were the odds the man simply showed up at his place of work? Either he had a stalker now or it truly was only coincidence. He jerked back when a plate was shoved into his face. He looked up to find Ryan grinned at him. "Orders from the bosses: dinner on the house."
The plate held one of his favorite sandwiches they sold as well as a chicken wrap and what they called chisps. They were baked potato slices that were seasoned to excellence and were far better than any potato chip. "You all are life savers." He hasn't realized he had even been hungry till the plate was in his face.
"You're the life saver here, Michael," his other boss called from somewhere in the kitchen.
Michael chuckled. "I'll be out back if you need me."
Ryan gave him a salute and Michael slipped out the back door into the quiet space tucked away for breaks. Every bite was savored but he kept an eye on the clock. He wasn’t quite done yet.
Michael made it home far too late for a day off. His bosses were gracious enough, though, to swap his shift tomorrow for one later in the day. At least now he could sleep in. The door opened into his dark living space. He kicked off his shoes and didn't bother with a light. The blinds didn't keep out much of the street lamp light so while he couldn't see details, he could see furniture and anything that could possibly be on the floor.
His room was equally dark, illuminated as well from the street below. He stripped from his work clothes and left them where they fell on the floor. He grabbed the sleep pants on the messy bed and yanked them on sleepily. Screw doing anything else. He clambered into bed and settled down, his brain running far too fast for his exhausted body.
It kept coming back to the customer just before his break, not that he could figure out why. A part of him felt like he should recognize the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee, the one that had joined him in the gallery.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the shadows playing faintly on his ceiling. As much as the man had been attractive, God had decreed for no same sex relations among the angels. Michael threw an arm over his eyes, wondering if He even knew that Michael was struggling against such a decree, than Michael was very certain that he was very gay if his thoughts swirling around Mr. Tall Black Coffee were anything to go by.
He prayed none of his brothers and sisters in Heaven and on Earth were going through this as well. It was infuriating and stressful and quite terrifying. He wasn't sure what God would do if He found out about Michael's affinity for the same sex.
A thought made him shudder; what if Jesus found out? The past couple millennia had not left the Son of God untouched and Michael was certain that corruption had touched the once pure soul. After all, how could a single creation take on all the sins of man and step away untouched by the experience? Michael felt his heart go out to his brothers and sisters in Heaven dealing with Jesus in his absence. It wasn't often that Jesus listened to him when being told off but being the elder helped, marginally. Jesus was such an ass now that he barely listened to anyone, striving with his own agenda with God blind to it all.
Michael rubbed at his face, changing thoughts. He found too much focusing on Jesus would summon him and he'd rather not deal with the younger on the mortal world.
His thoughts turned back to the man that had ordered the tall, black coffee and almost wished they hadn't. While he was glad that he wasn't bound to summon Jesus now - hopefully - he could do without the damning thoughts.
“So this is where you’ve chosen to stay for your stay down here?”
Michael jerked upright, hand moving as if to draw a weapon only to still as his gaze landed on the one and only Jesus. The Son of God had a rather pleased look on his face, a glint in his eye that Michael didn’t care for. The hand that had moved towards an absent weapon grabbed at the sheets, throwing them off as he commented sharply, "Heaven above, Jesus. Are you trying to kill me before I have fulfilled His Plan?"
He stood up, offering his brother a soft smile. Despite the heart attack it was nice to see a face from home, even if it was Jesus. "I do hope you're not causing much mischief down here, Brother. Come," he gestured towards the bedroom door, "let's talk in the kitchen. Do you want anything to drink?"
“I’m not here for a lengthy visit, Brother,” Jesus spoke. A grin replaced the sudden stoic expression. “In fact, I was actually here visiting someone far less pleasant than you and it got me thinking.”
Michael took a step back, finding his Brother’s face far too close to his own.
“It’s been a while since I’ve dropped by to see how you’ve been handling among all the sin of man.” His grin grew even more. “Corrupted, yet?”
Michael adapted a blank expression. “Are you so eager to cast another Sibling from Heaven, Jesus?”
Jesus took a couple steps back, shrugging with a smile. “You know I would never want such a thing, dear Brother. Father holds you far higher than any of the angels in Heaven, even the Archangels, of which you are one of.” The look he sent Michael was vicious. “It would be so sad for Father to cast out another Archangel. Could you imagine the chaos that would ensue? The fear? There would be no telling who would go next!”
Michael’s expression broke. “What happened to you, Jesus?” he asked earnestly. He spread his hands to his sides. “You used to be so kind, so caring, and now you’re nearly as bad as the humans and demons here on Earth and in Hell.”
He should have watched his tongue as he found his back hitting the mattress hard, Jesus’s hand around his throat. “You forget your place, Brother,” Jesus threatened as he grabbed at Jesus’s wrist with both hands. “Or would you rather I toss your pathetic excuse of an Archangel ass to join Lucifer in Hell? I’m sure he would love your company and love it even more to corrupt you into nothing more than a pleasure slave.”
Michael kicked the other hard in the gut, getting some distance between them enough for Michael to breathe and sit up, on guard for another attack. Jesus didn’t go very far and Michael glared at him when the other’s face was placed inches from his. “Step out of line again, dear Brother, and I will not hesitate to get you thrown out of Heaven just like Lucifer.”
Michael blinked and Jesus was gone. He didn’t dare relax, standing and checking his small condo apartment for any signs that Jesus had lingered. With every inch searched, Michael allowed himself to sink down on the edge of the couch with a heavy sigh. Burying his face into his hands, Michael tried to quell the soft tremors coursing through his body from the adrenaline and fear. Even with Michael being the older, Jesus’s threat was not one to be taken lightly. God was blind to what Jesus had become and Michael was going more and more concerned that something had happened to turn God’s gaze from His Son.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, asking the silence, “Why me?”
There wasn’t an answer.
He hadn’t expected one anyways.
Michael was in a daze until his alarm went off. He blinked, finding himself staring down at the table, an empty mug nestled against his left palm, his right pressed against the right side of his brow supporting the weight of his head. He sat up, looking about as he tried to get himself back in the present.
Alarm. Right. The alarm he had set on his phone was going off. He stood up and put his mug in the sink before returning to the bedroom and crossing to his phone. He swiped at the screen, ending the alarm. He looked about feeling oddly off before he entered the bathroom. He had two hours before work and it would take him a half hour to get there. Best to shower and try to get moving now before he was rushing out of the door late.
The shower did nothing to help his mindset and he came out of the bathroom showered and dressed an hour later. Unperturbed by the lack of time, he went about making a quick meal as he turned the tv on.
The audio from some commercial filled the silence and he ignored it, letting it settle in as background noise as he worked. By the time he settled down, whatever show was playing on the air channel had returned and was introducing something that seemed vaguely important. He picked up the remote, munching on a bite with the intent to change the channel.
"And we are back with the live feed from the Fir Family press conference..."
Michael choked on the bite in his mouth. There, on the tv, was Mr. Tall, Black Coffee. His gaze snapped immediately to the description bar that appeared when they focused on the man that he had encountered twice.
Luciano Fir, Head of the Fir Family Corporations
Michael stared at the man's face as the cameras remained focused on him. It wasn’t till the view changed that he composed himself. He took a long pull from his glass, finding Mr. Tall, Black Coffee was the focus of the camera again.
He couldn’t pull himself away even long after the man had left the show changed to something else. There was no way that he had ended up interacting with a multi-billionaire on two separate occasions. He buried his free hand in his curls suddenly scared that this man was why he was on Earth. There was no other explanation, not when there was no such thing as coincidences.
A dark knot settled in the depths of his stomach. No, there was no way he could interact with that man and not break the one rule God had set upon the angels. His hand shook as he rubbed at his face; there was no way he could keep himself from going against God’s word either.
In the end, he ended up running as he shoved the rest of his food in his mouth before dashing out the door. Thankfully the traffic was forgiving and he made it to work on time.
"Glad you could make it, Engel," his gruff boss called out in the midst of the bustling kitchen. They were properly staffed today meaning there were three other bodies there beyond the head chef and Gruff Boss.
"Glad to be here," Michael replied, smiling. It felt fake on his face and he quickly shoved the thoughts about Luciano to the depths of his mind. He situated his mindset for work where he needed to be warm, welcoming, and happy. Or, well, less conflicted at least. He could wallow in “what if”s and existential crises later.
He stepped out from the back as he tied his apron around his waist, gaze sweeping over those already in the shop, not that he was looking for anyone specific. It was just a habit.
He blatantly ignored the toxic blend of relief and disappointment at not seeing Luciano in the shop. He simply chalked the churning in his stomach to having eaten too quickly.
A few people nearby suddenly became sullen. Michael noticed and quickly filled his aura with content, joy, and compassion to correct his mistake before binding his aura so deep down, it shouldn’t touch anyone again. He was grateful when he was put on drink duty. At least making drinks meant he couldn't pay attention to those that came in and get disappointed or relieved whenever it wasn’t Luciano.
"Tall, black coffee, please."
He gasped, fumbling with the coffee in his hand as it got beyond his control, and hissed when the coffee not only soaked through his apron and uniform burning his chest but scalded his hands as well. There was a chorus of his name being called by the other two staffers behind the counter and he offered them embarrassed, reassuring smiles as he sought out the gaze of the customer who's coffee he had just ruined. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss,” he urged. “I'll cover a size upgrade and any pastry or additional coffee you want."
The girl on the other side looked alarmed, one hand curled towards her lips as the other was outstretched towards him as if to offer any aid she could. She blinked before shaking her head. "It's fine.” She focused on him again and he realized he had most of the shop’s attention. “Are you alright, sir? That has to hurt."
He winced when a coworker dowsed his hand in an icy rag. He gave her a shaky smile. "I've had worse.” Thankfully his wince at the slip-up was covered by his coworker adding a new rag, the other already passed off. He quickly amended, “Comes with working with food."
She didn't look reassured.
Michael slipped around his coworkers, uttering apologies as he went into the restroom. It was the closest sink without being in the way and he didn't want the other staff members to get distracted or worry about him. The ice water made the scalded skin hurt worse but it would have to be fine. He couldn't risk healing the injury right away. It would draw too much attention. Too many people had seen him spill the coffee on himself.
Luciano had seen him spill the coffee.
He felt his face burn.
He hadn't even seen him come in and yet he knew that voice. Luciano had come back to the coffee shop and Michael had not only been hoping for him to show up, he had gone and fumbled with a very hot coffee just because the man had ordered a simple coffee.
He groaned. Why did he have to have a crush? Why couldn’t his life be so much simpler and he could just go about God’s plan without worrying about being kicked out of Heaven for the effort?
“You alright?”
Michael jumped. He whipped around as best he could while keeping his hands under the stream of icy water to find the man of his thoughts standing in the doorway with a slight frown on the sculpted face, concern in those nearly red eyes.
“Ah, yeah,” he replied, turning back to the sink to hide his cheeks turning red. “Sorry about the inconvenience. I do hope it did not interrupt your service too terribly much.”
“It did nothing of the sort.”
Michael shuddered, glancing up at the mirror to find Luciano was indeed very close to his back. The nearly red gaze caught his and Michael found it hard to break the eye contact even as he curled his hands into fists. “Are you sure you’re alright? It seemed that it had gotten on your front as well and the young lady had asked me to make sure that you were, indeed, alright.”
Michael broke the eye contact as he shook his head, a fond smile on his face. A part of him was calling Luciano a liar but that wasn’t something that needed to be addressed. “As very sweet as that is, it wasn’t her fault.”
“But it was mine.”
Michael tensed, swallowing thickly as he forced a laugh. “How could me being clumsy be your fault, Sir?” He met Luciano’s gaze again and attempted to keep his cracking mask from shattering. “It’s not like you reached over and knocked the coffee out of my hand.”
The man hummed but the expression the other was reading was hard for Michael to decipher; though, whether that was from it being a reflection or not was left to be decided.
The door opened again and Michael’s Gruff Boss entered, first aid kit in hand. Gruff Boss nodded to Luciano, asking, “You get compensated all right?”
Luciano nodded. “The young lady outside is holding what I received for me while I checked on him on her behalf.”
Again, Gruff Boss nodded. “Good.” His expression softened. “Thank you for caring for one of my staff. I’ll take it from here.”
Luciano nodded and caught Michael’s gaze in the mirror once more. “Make sure to remember to check your chest.”
Luciano stepped around Gruff Boss and exited the bathroom. Said Gruff Boss wrapped his hands and sent him home since Michael had refused to go to the hospital. The burns weren't bad enough for him to fret about the unnecessary expense. He entered his dark but warm apartment and kicked off his shoes as his hand found the light switch. It stung a bit, what with his hands quite raw underneath the bandages, but he wasn't about to heal them so quickly. It would raise too many questions.
“It would seem there’s a sodomite interfering with your life, Michael.”
Michael nearly jumped out of his skin and it took him a minute to process his younger Brother's words even as Jesus continued to speak with an amused expression, a mischievous glint in those devious eyes. “Such a pity you can’t heal your hands so quickly, Brother.”
He frowned, entering his home fully. "You should not judge others, Brother. God makes no mistakes. If a mortal feels for the same gender ends up in a healthy, loving relationship, we should not grievous them for what they cannot control nor condone them their happiness."
Jesus scoffed at his words but Michael didn’t care. What he was confused about, though, was, "Why use the term 'sodomite'?"
“You are too forgiving, Michael,” Jesus chastised.
Michael frowned. Where was Jesus go-
“If I’m not mistaken, you had been just as eager to forgive a certain Brother for his sins as well and even had the gall to look sad when he was kicked from Heaven.”
Michael tensed, stilling as he entered the living room. He set a hard, closed off gaze onto Jesus as he replied, "Was it not God who said mourn for those that cannot reach Heaven? To have compassion and forgiveness for others? Of course I wanted to forgive his sins. Lucifer had every right to another chance and of course I was sad when God made the final verdict. I was devastated! God sent one of His own from Heaven for all eternity and we were told to forget the sorrow of the act, that our own Brother deserved such a fate." He took a shaky breath before continuing softly, "That is beside the point, though. What does Lucifer have to do with my question you so graciously ignored?"
Jesus chuckled and Michael fought to keep from returning to his angel form in his living room. “Certainly you can figure that one out for yourself, Brother. After all, you are not the only one walking the mortal plains with plans set before you.” Jesus gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Though I’m certain the sodomite would have loved tending to you after your little fumble.”
It was like someone had poured ice into his veins and it made his brain short out for a moment. Wha-was Jesus insinuating what he thought he was? No. No, there was no way. If it were true, he would have already been confronted about it by now. There was no way, right?
The chuckle was beyond his lips before he could even think to stop it. It was rather humorless. “Are you trying to use Lucifer as a sort of jab at my bleeding heart, Brother?” Michael asked, shoving the conspiracy theory to the back of his mind. “You and I both know that it won’t work so why use Lucifer at all?”
The look he was given left Michael feeling very exposed. He clenched his hands into fists trying to keep them from trembling. “Because you are hiding something, Michael. Something that you shouldn’t be keeping hidden. And if the best way to break you is through your bleeding heart, then I’m going to exploit that.”
The fear was well founded but he hid it well as disbelief colored his words. "Hiding something? You and those Above think I'm hiding something?"
If it weren't for the fact that he really was hiding something, he would have normally found the whole situation ridiculous. Those Above could see far more than those on Earth, including those that were among Man. As it were, he wasn't about to inform Jesus of his thoughts that go again the one rule God had placed over them.
Jesus either didn't buy it or didn't care enough to push it. "Regardless of how much you want to deny it, you will slip up, Michael, and I'll gladly take you to Heaven only to watch Father kick you out like he did Lucifer."
And just as he had appeared, Jesus was gone in an instant.
Michael wasn't prone to drinking but after that particular visit from Jesus, he found the strongest liquor he owned and threw back a tumbler full before pouring himself another glass of the amber liquid and plopping into a table chair.
He buried his free hand into his curls, his thoughts now consumed - whether by Jesus's design or happenstance - by Lucifer. More specifically, the night before Lucifer's banishment, the same night he had last interacted with him.
The moon was full and high in the sky, casting Heaven and Earth in its soft light. The air had been warm most had been asleep for hours but Michael had found himself awake and unable to return to the sleep so many were enjoying, alone in one of the more isolated locations of Heaven till movement drew his gaze.
He frowned as he took in the form approaching. Their head was down and their wings limply folded but even then he could tell it was one of his Brother's awake as he was.
"Lucifer?" he asked the night hopefully. Would his hope be misguided?
His Brother's head came up and, for a brief moment, Michael thought he had guessed wrong, But then his Brother was tucking his wings closer behind himself as he stood taller. Michael relaxed, smiling gently. Even in the half shadows his Brother was walking through, he recognized that stance.
"Michael," Lucifer greeted, voice holding a bit of disbelief as the other came to a stop just outside the moon lit area that Michael stood in. "What are you doing out so late?"
He smiled at his brother. "I could ask you the same thing, dear Brother. But it isn't important, one way or the other." He took a step towards Lucifer as he inquired, "How have you been? I haven't seen you in quite some time..."
His words fell silent on his tongue when he realized Lucifer had taken a step back as he had stepped forward. Lucifer spoke up as confusion pulled at Michael's expression.
"I've been well enough. You've been tending to yourself?"
Michael gave a slow nod. "Though that is nothing new." He took another step forward and again Lucifer took a step forward. Michael pulled his wings tight against his back, spreading his hands in confusion. "Why do you retreat, Brother? Surely you know that whatever you have done, I will help you through it." His smile was tight, sad. "I'm sure there is no prank you could have pulled that would have been worse than the one from-"
"I'm not in trouble," Lucifer cut in. The other Archangel looked away. "At least, not yet."
"Lucifer?" Michael asked, taking another step forward.
"Don't." Lucifer snapped, wings thrown out to the sides. Michael jerked back, hand curled towards his chest as he watched his Brother warily. Lucifer slowly came out of the stance, wings slowly going limp behind him. "Just. Don't."
"Lucifer," Michael spoke, though the word was choked in his throat. He swallowed and took a deliberate step forward. "There is nothing you could have done to turn me away."
Something fluttered passed his face and he blinked. Turning his head slightly, he watched a feather drift towards the ground behind him. And suddenly he understood.
"Are you sure about that?"
Michael turned his wide eyed gaze back to Lucifer, hand gripping at the fabric over his chest as some toxic blend of emotions churned within him.
Lucifer slowly strode forward, each step deliberate and his gaze never wavering from Michael's. There was a brief patch of moonlight that illuminated the other's dark hair before the shadows gave away completely revealing just what Lucifer had gotten himself into and Michael recoiled.
He recoiled from his own Brother and Michael felt disgusted with himself. This was Lucifer, his fellow Archangel and Brother. There was no reason to recoil - to react with disgust and disappointment - at the sight of those once white wings turning black. What white feathers still remained were wilted and looked ashen. It was only a matter of time before Lucifer was fully taken by sin.
His delay in giving an answer, his reaction, seemed to have been answer enough for Lucifer. The other angel turned, some toxic emotion half obscured by those changing wings. "That's what I thought," Lucifer stated bitterly.
Michael felt desperate as he rushed forward, soft wings barely letting his feet touch the ground as he tried to grab at Lucifer. He hesitated and it took a second for him to remind himself that it wasn't contagious - and to swallow back the nausea at the realization he had to convince himself - before he finally closed the distance and grabbed at Lucifer's wrist, stopping his movement.
"No, please," Michael urged, though it sounded like a beg even to his ears. But Lucifer didn't shake him off and he took that as some sort of a good sign. "I don't care that you've Fallen. I don't care that sin has taken you. You are still my Brother and I will still love you."
"And when God kicks me out of Heaven and deems me a lost cause, would you still love me then?" Lucifer challenged, turning on Michael. It was quite the feat for Michael to not flinch at the verbal attack. "Will you actually stand up for me when He sends me to Hell for my wrongdoings?"
Michael shook his head, wanting to tell Lucifer that of course he would, that he would stick by Lucifer no matter what, but he feared God and knew deep in his soul no word he spoke would still God's Judgment. "I-"
"You can't." The words were soft, gentle even, and Michael choked on a sob in his despair, tears rushing down his cheeks. It wasn't fair! Why did this have to happen to any of them? Why Lucifer?! Lucifer's larger hands cupped his cheeks and coaxed him to look up, thumbs rubbing away his tears. Michael met Lucifer's red gaze, clinging to the other's wrists in hopes of keeping him there. Why was Lucifer smiling such a painful smile? "And I understand." Lucifer pressed a soft kiss to Michael's forehead as another sob choked him. "Besides," Lucifer breathed against his skin, "I'd much rather Fall and take all the sin with me rather than see any of you Fallen as well."
Michael shook his head as best he could still trapped between Lucifer's hands, and opened his mouth.
Michael found himself with his cheek pressed against the table's hard surface, eyes sticky and his mouth dry. He winced when his head suddenly started pounding right along with his heart beat and he sat up, rubbing at his face to find his cheek tacky from him drooling. Disgusted, he got up and nearly toppled over onto the floor. He gripped at the table as he struggled to simply keep himself upright as the world kept twisting around him. It took far longer than it should have but, eventually, the world stilled enough for him to get his feet underneath him and he stumbled towards the kitchen.
The facet water was icy cold against his face and it woke him right up, not that it helped the pounding in his head. Swallowing a few handfuls, he draped a damp rag across the back of his neck as he wandered back to the table with a wet rag in hand.
The liquor bottle was just as empty as the tumbler he had been using and Michael mentally cursed Jesus's careless words and the influence he had on him. It was far more difficult to not hate Jesus and that deplorable personality his Brother had taken on.
Tossing the bottle into the recycling, he quickly washed the glass before moving to tend to his hangover. A glance at the clock told him he had plenty of hours left to waste away in bed till his next shift so he set out to do just that.
Hours later, as the first light of the new day filled the waking city, Michael found himself bundled in a heavy sweater wandering the largest park near his house. The air was still crisp and cool, frost causing the grass to sparkle and fog displaying the beams of morning sunlight.
He didn't see the other fellow walking in the other direction till he collided with the man's chest. A quick hand on his forearm kept him from toppling off balance and he gripped at the arm to keep himself upright.
"I'm so sorry," Michael rushed as he got himself upright. "I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going."
He finally looked up as a chuckle filled the air between them and he stared wide eyed at Luciano Fir, the man's grip on his arm gentler now that Michael seemed to be standing just fine. "It was not fair for me to stop directly into your path when it was clear you were oblivious to your surroundings." Luciano frowned. "You are otherwise unharmed?"
Michael nodded, offering a bright smile. "Only thing injured is my dignity and pride."
"And your hands."
Michael winced at that, his smile turning sheepish. "Barring that," he agreed. He shook his head. "How is it you and I keep running into each other? Certainly you are not seeking me out on purpose."
Luciano laughed and Michael found himself wanting to hear the sound more. Much more. "No, nothing like that." The look he gave Michael was hard to decipher. "Though I do admit I find it hard not to want to be in your presence when you are around."
Michael jumped, bewildered. "Why? I'm nothing special," he blurted.
Luciano's smile softened. "Oh, I doubt that but not knowing you would actually make that rather difficult to actually know." Luciano glanced passed Michael before focusing on him and offering, "I wasn't actually heading anywhere in particular. Do you want to go grab breakfast or a coffee with me?"
Michael blinked at him. Shame rushed through him on the heel of his sudden elation. He stepped out of Luciano's touch, replying, "I can't."
"Why not?"
"I..." Michael took a breath, gathering what courage he had to meet the man's eyes. But the words he spoke had not been the ones he had intended. "I don't want to impose on you. You must certainly have something far more important to do than spend your morning with a simple cafe barista."
Luciano arched an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that for me to decide?"
"I-well, yes-"
"And did I not offer?"
"Well, yes, you did, but-"
"So what's the matter?"
"It sounds like a date!" he blurted, frustration at not being let to speak causing him to do so loudly. He was certain he was as red as an apple as he sputtered. "Ah-wait. That-That wasn't-"
"And what if it was a date?"
Michael's eyes snapped wide, gaze on the ground before him. He quickly looked up at Luciano to see the man very amused and patiently waiting for his response. Michael opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to breathe, "No lie?"
Luciano nodded. "No lie."
Michael opened his mouth to respond but a passerby suddenly stumbled, items going everywhere, and the words out of his mouth were reactional.
"It wasn't me!"
Michael was humiliated as Luciano was nearly bend double from laughter.
At least Michael got to hear that wonderful sound again, even if it was at his own expense.
Alarm. Right. The alarm he had set on his phone was going off. He stood up and put his mug in the sink before returning to the bedroom and crossing to his phone. He swiped at the screen, ending the alarm. He looked about feeling oddly off before he entered the bathroom. He had two hours before work and it would take him a half hour to get there. Best to shower and try to get moving now before he was rushing out of the door late.
The shower did nothing to help his mindset and he came out of the bathroom showered and dressed an hour later. Unperturbed by the lack of time, he went about making a quick meal as he turned the tv on.
The audio from some commercial filled the silence and he ignored it, letting it settle in as background noise as he worked. By the time he settled down, whatever show was playing on the air channel had returned and was introducing something that seemed vaguely important. He picked up the remote, munching on a bite with the intent to change the channel.
"And we are back with the live feed from the Fir Family press conference..."
Michael choked on the bite in his mouth. There, on the tv, was Mr. Tall, Black Coffee. His gaze snapped immediately to the description bar that appeared when they focused on the man that he had encountered twice.
Luciano Fir, Head of the Fir Family Corporations
Michael stared at the man's face as the cameras remained focused on him. It wasn’t till the view changed that he composed himself. He took a long pull from his glass, finding Mr. Tall, Black Coffee was the focus of the camera again.
He couldn’t pull himself away even long after the man had left the show changed to something else. There was no way that he had ended up interacting with a multi-billionaire on two separate occasions. He buried his free hand in his curls suddenly scared that this man was why he was on Earth. There was no other explanation, not when there was no such thing as coincidences.
A dark knot settled in the depths of his stomach. No, there was no way he could interact with that man and not break the one rule God had set upon the angels. His hand shook as he rubbed at his face; there was no way he could keep himself from going against God’s word either.
In the end, he ended up running as he shoved the rest of his food in his mouth before dashing out the door. Thankfully the traffic was forgiving and he made it to work on time.
"Glad you could make it, Engel," his gruff boss called out in the midst of the bustling kitchen. They were properly staffed today meaning there were three other bodies there beyond the head chef and Gruff Boss.
"Glad to be here," Michael replied, smiling. It felt fake on his face and he quickly shoved the thoughts about Luciano to the depths of his mind. He situated his mindset for work where he needed to be warm, welcoming, and happy. Or, well, less conflicted at least. He could wallow in “what if”s and existential crises later.
He stepped out from the back as he tied his apron around his waist, gaze sweeping over those already in the shop, not that he was looking for anyone specific. It was just a habit.
He blatantly ignored the toxic blend of relief and disappointment at not seeing Luciano in the shop. He simply chalked the churning in his stomach to having eaten too quickly.
A few people nearby suddenly became sullen. Michael noticed and quickly filled his aura with content, joy, and compassion to correct his mistake before binding his aura so deep down, it shouldn’t touch anyone again. He was grateful when he was put on drink duty. At least making drinks meant he couldn't pay attention to those that came in and get disappointed or relieved whenever it wasn’t Luciano.
"Tall, black coffee, please."
He gasped, fumbling with the coffee in his hand as it got beyond his control, and hissed when the coffee not only soaked through his apron and uniform burning his chest but scalded his hands as well. There was a chorus of his name being called by the other two staffers behind the counter and he offered them embarrassed, reassuring smiles as he sought out the gaze of the customer who's coffee he had just ruined. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss,” he urged. “I'll cover a size upgrade and any pastry or additional coffee you want."
The girl on the other side looked alarmed, one hand curled towards her lips as the other was outstretched towards him as if to offer any aid she could. She blinked before shaking her head. "It's fine.” She focused on him again and he realized he had most of the shop’s attention. “Are you alright, sir? That has to hurt."
He winced when a coworker dowsed his hand in an icy rag. He gave her a shaky smile. "I've had worse.” Thankfully his wince at the slip-up was covered by his coworker adding a new rag, the other already passed off. He quickly amended, “Comes with working with food."
She didn't look reassured.
Michael slipped around his coworkers, uttering apologies as he went into the restroom. It was the closest sink without being in the way and he didn't want the other staff members to get distracted or worry about him. The ice water made the scalded skin hurt worse but it would have to be fine. He couldn't risk healing the injury right away. It would draw too much attention. Too many people had seen him spill the coffee on himself.
Luciano had seen him spill the coffee.
He felt his face burn.
He hadn't even seen him come in and yet he knew that voice. Luciano had come back to the coffee shop and Michael had not only been hoping for him to show up, he had gone and fumbled with a very hot coffee just because the man had ordered a simple coffee.
He groaned. Why did he have to have a crush? Why couldn’t his life be so much simpler and he could just go about God’s plan without worrying about being kicked out of Heaven for the effort?
“You alright?”
Michael jumped. He whipped around as best he could while keeping his hands under the stream of icy water to find the man of his thoughts standing in the doorway with a slight frown on the sculpted face, concern in those nearly red eyes.
“Ah, yeah,” he replied, turning back to the sink to hide his cheeks turning red. “Sorry about the inconvenience. I do hope it did not interrupt your service too terribly much.”
“It did nothing of the sort.”
Michael shuddered, glancing up at the mirror to find Luciano was indeed very close to his back. The nearly red gaze caught his and Michael found it hard to break the eye contact even as he curled his hands into fists. “Are you sure you’re alright? It seemed that it had gotten on your front as well and the young lady had asked me to make sure that you were, indeed, alright.”
Michael broke the eye contact as he shook his head, a fond smile on his face. A part of him was calling Luciano a liar but that wasn’t something that needed to be addressed. “As very sweet as that is, it wasn’t her fault.”
“But it was mine.”
Michael tensed, swallowing thickly as he forced a laugh. “How could me being clumsy be your fault, Sir?” He met Luciano’s gaze again and attempted to keep his cracking mask from shattering. “It’s not like you reached over and knocked the coffee out of my hand.”
The man hummed but the expression the other was reading was hard for Michael to decipher; though, whether that was from it being a reflection or not was left to be decided.
The door opened again and Michael’s Gruff Boss entered, first aid kit in hand. Gruff Boss nodded to Luciano, asking, “You get compensated all right?”
Luciano nodded. “The young lady outside is holding what I received for me while I checked on him on her behalf.”
Again, Gruff Boss nodded. “Good.” His expression softened. “Thank you for caring for one of my staff. I’ll take it from here.”
Luciano nodded and caught Michael’s gaze in the mirror once more. “Make sure to remember to check your chest.”
Luciano stepped around Gruff Boss and exited the bathroom. Said Gruff Boss wrapped his hands and sent him home since Michael had refused to go to the hospital. The burns weren't bad enough for him to fret about the unnecessary expense. He entered his dark but warm apartment and kicked off his shoes as his hand found the light switch. It stung a bit, what with his hands quite raw underneath the bandages, but he wasn't about to heal them so quickly. It would raise too many questions.
“It would seem there’s a sodomite interfering with your life, Michael.”
Michael nearly jumped out of his skin and it took him a minute to process his younger Brother's words even as Jesus continued to speak with an amused expression, a mischievous glint in those devious eyes. “Such a pity you can’t heal your hands so quickly, Brother.”
He frowned, entering his home fully. "You should not judge others, Brother. God makes no mistakes. If a mortal feels for the same gender ends up in a healthy, loving relationship, we should not grievous them for what they cannot control nor condone them their happiness."
Jesus scoffed at his words but Michael didn’t care. What he was confused about, though, was, "Why use the term 'sodomite'?"
“You are too forgiving, Michael,” Jesus chastised.
Michael frowned. Where was Jesus go-
“If I’m not mistaken, you had been just as eager to forgive a certain Brother for his sins as well and even had the gall to look sad when he was kicked from Heaven.”
Michael tensed, stilling as he entered the living room. He set a hard, closed off gaze onto Jesus as he replied, "Was it not God who said mourn for those that cannot reach Heaven? To have compassion and forgiveness for others? Of course I wanted to forgive his sins. Lucifer had every right to another chance and of course I was sad when God made the final verdict. I was devastated! God sent one of His own from Heaven for all eternity and we were told to forget the sorrow of the act, that our own Brother deserved such a fate." He took a shaky breath before continuing softly, "That is beside the point, though. What does Lucifer have to do with my question you so graciously ignored?"
Jesus chuckled and Michael fought to keep from returning to his angel form in his living room. “Certainly you can figure that one out for yourself, Brother. After all, you are not the only one walking the mortal plains with plans set before you.” Jesus gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. “Though I’m certain the sodomite would have loved tending to you after your little fumble.”
It was like someone had poured ice into his veins and it made his brain short out for a moment. Wha-was Jesus insinuating what he thought he was? No. No, there was no way. If it were true, he would have already been confronted about it by now. There was no way, right?
The chuckle was beyond his lips before he could even think to stop it. It was rather humorless. “Are you trying to use Lucifer as a sort of jab at my bleeding heart, Brother?” Michael asked, shoving the conspiracy theory to the back of his mind. “You and I both know that it won’t work so why use Lucifer at all?”
The look he was given left Michael feeling very exposed. He clenched his hands into fists trying to keep them from trembling. “Because you are hiding something, Michael. Something that you shouldn’t be keeping hidden. And if the best way to break you is through your bleeding heart, then I’m going to exploit that.”
The fear was well founded but he hid it well as disbelief colored his words. "Hiding something? You and those Above think I'm hiding something?"
If it weren't for the fact that he really was hiding something, he would have normally found the whole situation ridiculous. Those Above could see far more than those on Earth, including those that were among Man. As it were, he wasn't about to inform Jesus of his thoughts that go again the one rule God had placed over them.
Jesus either didn't buy it or didn't care enough to push it. "Regardless of how much you want to deny it, you will slip up, Michael, and I'll gladly take you to Heaven only to watch Father kick you out like he did Lucifer."
And just as he had appeared, Jesus was gone in an instant.
Michael wasn't prone to drinking but after that particular visit from Jesus, he found the strongest liquor he owned and threw back a tumbler full before pouring himself another glass of the amber liquid and plopping into a table chair.
He buried his free hand into his curls, his thoughts now consumed - whether by Jesus's design or happenstance - by Lucifer. More specifically, the night before Lucifer's banishment, the same night he had last interacted with him.
The moon was full and high in the sky, casting Heaven and Earth in its soft light. The air had been warm most had been asleep for hours but Michael had found himself awake and unable to return to the sleep so many were enjoying, alone in one of the more isolated locations of Heaven till movement drew his gaze.
He frowned as he took in the form approaching. Their head was down and their wings limply folded but even then he could tell it was one of his Brother's awake as he was.
"Lucifer?" he asked the night hopefully. Would his hope be misguided?
His Brother's head came up and, for a brief moment, Michael thought he had guessed wrong, But then his Brother was tucking his wings closer behind himself as he stood taller. Michael relaxed, smiling gently. Even in the half shadows his Brother was walking through, he recognized that stance.
"Michael," Lucifer greeted, voice holding a bit of disbelief as the other came to a stop just outside the moon lit area that Michael stood in. "What are you doing out so late?"
He smiled at his brother. "I could ask you the same thing, dear Brother. But it isn't important, one way or the other." He took a step towards Lucifer as he inquired, "How have you been? I haven't seen you in quite some time..."
His words fell silent on his tongue when he realized Lucifer had taken a step back as he had stepped forward. Lucifer spoke up as confusion pulled at Michael's expression.
"I've been well enough. You've been tending to yourself?"
Michael gave a slow nod. "Though that is nothing new." He took another step forward and again Lucifer took a step forward. Michael pulled his wings tight against his back, spreading his hands in confusion. "Why do you retreat, Brother? Surely you know that whatever you have done, I will help you through it." His smile was tight, sad. "I'm sure there is no prank you could have pulled that would have been worse than the one from-"
"I'm not in trouble," Lucifer cut in. The other Archangel looked away. "At least, not yet."
"Lucifer?" Michael asked, taking another step forward.
"Don't." Lucifer snapped, wings thrown out to the sides. Michael jerked back, hand curled towards his chest as he watched his Brother warily. Lucifer slowly came out of the stance, wings slowly going limp behind him. "Just. Don't."
"Lucifer," Michael spoke, though the word was choked in his throat. He swallowed and took a deliberate step forward. "There is nothing you could have done to turn me away."
Something fluttered passed his face and he blinked. Turning his head slightly, he watched a feather drift towards the ground behind him. And suddenly he understood.
"Are you sure about that?"
Michael turned his wide eyed gaze back to Lucifer, hand gripping at the fabric over his chest as some toxic blend of emotions churned within him.
Lucifer slowly strode forward, each step deliberate and his gaze never wavering from Michael's. There was a brief patch of moonlight that illuminated the other's dark hair before the shadows gave away completely revealing just what Lucifer had gotten himself into and Michael recoiled.
He recoiled from his own Brother and Michael felt disgusted with himself. This was Lucifer, his fellow Archangel and Brother. There was no reason to recoil - to react with disgust and disappointment - at the sight of those once white wings turning black. What white feathers still remained were wilted and looked ashen. It was only a matter of time before Lucifer was fully taken by sin.
His delay in giving an answer, his reaction, seemed to have been answer enough for Lucifer. The other angel turned, some toxic emotion half obscured by those changing wings. "That's what I thought," Lucifer stated bitterly.
Michael felt desperate as he rushed forward, soft wings barely letting his feet touch the ground as he tried to grab at Lucifer. He hesitated and it took a second for him to remind himself that it wasn't contagious - and to swallow back the nausea at the realization he had to convince himself - before he finally closed the distance and grabbed at Lucifer's wrist, stopping his movement.
"No, please," Michael urged, though it sounded like a beg even to his ears. But Lucifer didn't shake him off and he took that as some sort of a good sign. "I don't care that you've Fallen. I don't care that sin has taken you. You are still my Brother and I will still love you."
"And when God kicks me out of Heaven and deems me a lost cause, would you still love me then?" Lucifer challenged, turning on Michael. It was quite the feat for Michael to not flinch at the verbal attack. "Will you actually stand up for me when He sends me to Hell for my wrongdoings?"
Michael shook his head, wanting to tell Lucifer that of course he would, that he would stick by Lucifer no matter what, but he feared God and knew deep in his soul no word he spoke would still God's Judgment. "I-"
"You can't." The words were soft, gentle even, and Michael choked on a sob in his despair, tears rushing down his cheeks. It wasn't fair! Why did this have to happen to any of them? Why Lucifer?! Lucifer's larger hands cupped his cheeks and coaxed him to look up, thumbs rubbing away his tears. Michael met Lucifer's red gaze, clinging to the other's wrists in hopes of keeping him there. Why was Lucifer smiling such a painful smile? "And I understand." Lucifer pressed a soft kiss to Michael's forehead as another sob choked him. "Besides," Lucifer breathed against his skin, "I'd much rather Fall and take all the sin with me rather than see any of you Fallen as well."
Michael shook his head as best he could still trapped between Lucifer's hands, and opened his mouth.
Michael found himself with his cheek pressed against the table's hard surface, eyes sticky and his mouth dry. He winced when his head suddenly started pounding right along with his heart beat and he sat up, rubbing at his face to find his cheek tacky from him drooling. Disgusted, he got up and nearly toppled over onto the floor. He gripped at the table as he struggled to simply keep himself upright as the world kept twisting around him. It took far longer than it should have but, eventually, the world stilled enough for him to get his feet underneath him and he stumbled towards the kitchen.
The facet water was icy cold against his face and it woke him right up, not that it helped the pounding in his head. Swallowing a few handfuls, he draped a damp rag across the back of his neck as he wandered back to the table with a wet rag in hand.
The liquor bottle was just as empty as the tumbler he had been using and Michael mentally cursed Jesus's careless words and the influence he had on him. It was far more difficult to not hate Jesus and that deplorable personality his Brother had taken on.
Tossing the bottle into the recycling, he quickly washed the glass before moving to tend to his hangover. A glance at the clock told him he had plenty of hours left to waste away in bed till his next shift so he set out to do just that.
Hours later, as the first light of the new day filled the waking city, Michael found himself bundled in a heavy sweater wandering the largest park near his house. The air was still crisp and cool, frost causing the grass to sparkle and fog displaying the beams of morning sunlight.
He didn't see the other fellow walking in the other direction till he collided with the man's chest. A quick hand on his forearm kept him from toppling off balance and he gripped at the arm to keep himself upright.
"I'm so sorry," Michael rushed as he got himself upright. "I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going."
He finally looked up as a chuckle filled the air between them and he stared wide eyed at Luciano Fir, the man's grip on his arm gentler now that Michael seemed to be standing just fine. "It was not fair for me to stop directly into your path when it was clear you were oblivious to your surroundings." Luciano frowned. "You are otherwise unharmed?"
Michael nodded, offering a bright smile. "Only thing injured is my dignity and pride."
"And your hands."
Michael winced at that, his smile turning sheepish. "Barring that," he agreed. He shook his head. "How is it you and I keep running into each other? Certainly you are not seeking me out on purpose."
Luciano laughed and Michael found himself wanting to hear the sound more. Much more. "No, nothing like that." The look he gave Michael was hard to decipher. "Though I do admit I find it hard not to want to be in your presence when you are around."
Michael jumped, bewildered. "Why? I'm nothing special," he blurted.
Luciano's smile softened. "Oh, I doubt that but not knowing you would actually make that rather difficult to actually know." Luciano glanced passed Michael before focusing on him and offering, "I wasn't actually heading anywhere in particular. Do you want to go grab breakfast or a coffee with me?"
Michael blinked at him. Shame rushed through him on the heel of his sudden elation. He stepped out of Luciano's touch, replying, "I can't."
"Why not?"
"I..." Michael took a breath, gathering what courage he had to meet the man's eyes. But the words he spoke had not been the ones he had intended. "I don't want to impose on you. You must certainly have something far more important to do than spend your morning with a simple cafe barista."
Luciano arched an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that for me to decide?"
"I-well, yes-"
"And did I not offer?"
"Well, yes, you did, but-"
"So what's the matter?"
"It sounds like a date!" he blurted, frustration at not being let to speak causing him to do so loudly. He was certain he was as red as an apple as he sputtered. "Ah-wait. That-That wasn't-"
"And what if it was a date?"
Michael's eyes snapped wide, gaze on the ground before him. He quickly looked up at Luciano to see the man very amused and patiently waiting for his response. Michael opened and closed his mouth a few times before he managed to breathe, "No lie?"
Luciano nodded. "No lie."
Michael opened his mouth to respond but a passerby suddenly stumbled, items going everywhere, and the words out of his mouth were reactional.
"It wasn't me!"
Michael was humiliated as Luciano was nearly bend double from laughter.
At least Michael got to hear that wonderful sound again, even if it was at his own expense.
Cheeks still burning, Michael helped the passerby pick up their scattered items, Luciano only being so useful as the man continued to laugh. By the time the passerby had left after many words of gratitude - and a few out of amusement to Michael's reaction - both Michael and Luciano had calmed down.
"I still can't believe that was your first instinct in such a situation," Luciano teased gently, returning to a conversation as he turned and started up the path the way Michael had been heading.
Michael fell into step beside him. "It really isn't. Just a habit bred at work out of good humor and such." Michael shrugged, feeling awkward. "It mostly slips out when I'm nervous, it would seem."
Luciano looked at him but Michael ignored him. "You're nervous?"
Michael winced. "Ah, maybe that's the wrong word. Anxious, then?"
Luciano stopped walking, hand gently curling around Michael's bicep as Michael came to a stop as well. Michael was surprised to see the frown on his companion's face. "I'm making you anxious?"
Michael quickly raised his hands. "No, no! Just the...situation. I-ah, geez. How do I explain this?" Michael rubbed the back of his neck, gaze going to the expanse of grass to his left. "I, uh, may not have ever believed that you of all people would actually consider to date me?"
"Oh?"
Michael shrugged, uncomfortable and growing more so the longer this went on. "I....it's not that I'm not interested in dating you or anything but the last time I had someone who was out of my league ask me out, it had been a joke."
Luciano's hand was on his cheek, drawing his gaze from the grass to the nearly red eyes looking down on him. "I am serious. If you are interested, I would like to go get breakfast at a diner I know and we can call it a date. Should it not work out, I would like to at least settle as friends. You seem like an interesting man and, as you so keenly pointed out, we do keep running into each other despite everything."
Michael shook his head, the action taking Luciano's hand from his cheek. "But I'm a stranger. Why ask me out on a date?"
"Because you are breathtaking."
Michael's breath caught in his chest and he stared at Luciano. He was joking, right? There was no way he even came close to compare to the Adonis before him.
"And because you are clearly very kind, very intelligent, and, in all honesty, you remind me of someone I haven't seen in years." Luciano smiled softly. "So, yes, I get something out of this by spending a morning with you, as I believe you put it. But it isn't in search of finding a replacement so much as making new memories and meeting new people."
Michael gave a breathless laugh. Out of all his words, Michael couldn't find one lie. That didn't mean there wasn't one but it certainly put him at far more ease than anything else probably would have. Nodding, he agreed with Luciano's terms. "Alright. Breakfast. And afterwards, we can decide on another date or simply being friends."
Luciano beamed at him and a sensation Michael had never experienced before rushed through him. It was dizzying even as his mind pointed out that there was something oddly familiar about that look, about Luciano with such an expression. But the thought was fleeting and silenced by Luciano taking his hand. "Excellent. The diner is just a short walk from here."
The next three hours pass in a heady blur. During those three hours, the two of them talked and talked, staying in the diner booth long after their plates were cleared talking and laughing and Michael forgot quite often just who he was having breakfast with. It was when they were back in the park walking towards Michael's home that he remembered the strongest.
He steeled himself against the answer to his question. "So, did it go as you had hoped?"
Luciano hummed. As nonsequencial as the question was in their conversation, it seemed the man had understood his meaning as he answered with, "Probably not as smoothly as I had hoped, but certainly the result was the same."
Luciano entangled their fingers, buzzing with pleasure and happiness. It made Michael smile weakly even as his heart grew heavy. "And what of the press?"
That seemed to have taken Luciano by surprise because the man gave him a blank stare. Michael came to a stop and Luciano mirrored him, thumb idly rubbing at the back of Michael's hand. Michael elaborated. "You're one of the world's most sought after bachelors from a predominant family of bachelors. This relationship will not go unnoticed."
Luciano shrugged. "I don't care about all that. It's inconsequential."
Michael shook his head, distraught. "But what if it isn't to me?"
Luciano gave him a look that was far sharper and far harder than anything Michael had witnessed from the man, especially directed at himself. "Come off it, Michael. You're above all that."
"Am I?" Michael challenged. He yanked his hand free from Luciano's hold and for the briefest of instances, he regretted the action when loss and pain crossed the other's face but it was gone as quickly as it had surfaced. "Am I really? Luciano, I'm a simple cafe barista in the middle of a massive city. I have no wealth and I certainly have no interest in being the center of attention like that." Michael gave him a soft smile but it felt strained. He hoped it didn't look as such. "You are an amazing person, Luciano, and I would enjoy nothing more than to go on another date with you-"
"Then why don't you?" Luciano interrupted but Michael kept going.
"-but I need to know that you understand that it will take time for me to adjust to the idea that this isn't simply a ploy or some elaborate dream I'm bound to wake up from." This time the smile he gave was tight and humorless. "There will be some conflict personally about all this. As much as I find you attractive, my home life growing up had never been open to such relations and I cannot act as if I didn't grow up without realizing I had been in the closet the entire time."
Something crossed Luciano's face and suddenly Lucifer's face was superimposed over Luciano's face and Michael started as the other's hand carded through his curls. "Oh, Michael," Luciano uttered, his words soft and doing nothing to change the impression Michael was choking on. "Of course I understand and am more than willing to try if you're willing to be patient with me. I've lived for so long getting what I want when I want it that I forget that sometimes there are things that bother others that no longer bother me. I will do all that I can to make sure you stay out of the media till you are ready. Is that enough to have you at least think about a second date?"
Michael swallowed thickly, nodding. It was enough to guarantee at least two but he was afraid if he tried to speak, he would accidentally call the man Lucifer and he'd much prefer avoid being accused of anything. Luciano smiled at him and offered him his hand once more. "Shall I walk you home, then?"
"Just to the corner," Michael compromised with a soft smile, his hand trembling slightly. "I'd feel more comfortable knowing you are still rather oblivious as to where exactly I live."
Luciano chuckled. "Of course."
They walked in companionable silence for the rest of the way. When they arrived at the point they would separate, Michael expected Luciano to push the matter but the other man simply raised Michael's hand to his lips causing Michael to blush.
"You have my number, correct?" Luciano verified, breath ghosting over Michael's knuckles.
Michael nodded. "I'll text you later so that we can arrange another date."
Luciano beamed. Michael suppressed a shudder. He couldn't stop seeing Lucifer in the man and it was starting to get worrisome.
It didn't help the growing fear of the consequences awaiting him when those Above discover his lack of abiding to God's one rule.
"I look forward to your text and our next meeting, then," Luciano happily replied. He pressed another kiss to Michael's knuckles before turning and walking away.
Michael waited till the man was at what he deemed was a suitable distance before turning about and started for home.
His apartment was dark in the sense that all the lights were still off but the blinds did very little to keep the daylight out so he kept the lights off as he entered his home. Shoes tucked away by the door, he flopped down onto his couch and released a long sigh as his eyes fell closed.
When he opened them again, his apartment was still well lit from the daylight and the shadows of the tree outside played on the ceiling. Sitting up, he curled all the way forward and rubbed at his face with his elbows propped onto his knees.
Why had he been unable to shake the impression that Luciano was Lucifer? He hadn't seen his Brother in ages and there was no way Lucifer would be interested in him like that. Michael was very certain that Lucifer would have enjoyed swooning all but to find interest in another Archangel would have been far from Lucifer's character.
A hand carded through his curls and fear froze him in place as Jesus's voice curled around him. "You certainly know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you, dear Brother?"
Michael jerked back only for Jesus's hand to fist his hair and keep him from going very far. The other forced Michael's head back as Jesus loomed over him, a devious, satisfied smirk marring the face above him. "I would have thought you would have heeded my words, dear Brother. Certainly you knew I was watching and would not have taken kindly to you affiliating with Lucifer."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael ground out.
Jesus's face lit up at that and Michael swallowed a cry of pain when Jesus yanked on his hair to get him off the couch. "Oh, I'm sure you don't but Father doesn't know that, does he?"
The world around them swirled and Michael collapsed to his knees at Jesus's shoving as they appeared in Heaven. Michael shuddered at the sensation of Heaven. His content on Earth had dimmed the memories and now he felt overstimulated by what was his home.
He squinted against the harsh light, finding himself on his knees before God.
"Father," Jesus spoke, looking for all intents and purposes as the Son of God from before his corruption. "I can no longer stand idly by as my Brother deceives you down on Earth. I have tried to urge him to not to interact with the Fallen yet he goes against Your Word and reaches out to those that cannot be saved."
Had Michael not known Jesus as well as he did, he would have assumed that the pain that Jesus was emitting was true and pure. Even knowing Jesus well caused guilt to churn in his chest even as he drowned in confusion. He hadn't been interacting with Lucifer! As much as he missed his Brother, he had no idea where the Fallen was even at.
God focused on him and Michael found himself staring at the ground before his knees, unable to look at God after having been away for so long. "Michael," God's voice spoke, the sound wrapping around him so thickly that Michael lost all sense of Heaven. "Tell me: do you despise me so much as to go against my word?"
"Of course not, Father," Michael urged, his throat tight. Why was he here being judged? He had done nothing wrong!
"Yet you interact with those that I have stated were to be rejected and turned away." Michael flinched at that. There was a pause long enough that Michael started to wonder if God would speak again. "Michael, tell me: do you wish I had not cast Lucifer from Heaven?"
The lie was on his tongue but the compulsion to tell the truth was irrefutable. Hate coiled within him at the fact that God was forcing him to speak the truth. "Yes," Michael stated far calmer than he felt. "He is our Brother and should have been forgiven and given another chance."
There was a wave of displeasure from God and Michael bowed at the weight of it. "Tell me: if I had given you the chance, would you have gone against me the night of Lucifer's banishment."
"Yes."
The word - that single word - was passed his lips before he could even think, before he could even try to deny it. But he had been thinking about that night since Jesus's words had sparked those fragmented memories and he felt it even in his own soul that the word was true.
Pain erupted from his back and filled his body as God forced his wings to show. He cried out as his hands scraped against the ground in an attempt to keep himself from collapsing completely, tears streaking down his face. His entire body quivered as the pain ripped through it. Through the haze of pain, he caught sight of feathers drifting down around him and through the pain he turned his head as his wing came into view.
Everything seemed to stop. There was no pain - no emotion - as he stared at what were supposed to be his wings.
He stared at a wing and was suddenly back to the night before Lucifer was kicked from Heaven under the moonlight. Even looking back now, Lucifer's wings had still looked radiant and beautiful even as they changed, clearly something the embodiment of Pride could be proud of, but his....
Michael felt sick as he took in the wing that looked damaged and ratty, as if they hadn't been tended to after haven gotten caught in something. There was no beauty in it like there had been in Lucifer's and Michael wondered if that was his punishment or a result of giving into sin so quickly for he could no longer doubt that he had given into sin.
God's words slowly registered in Michael's mind. "You were one of my most powerful creations, third only to Jesus and Lucifer and yet you have clearly become corrupted just as Lucifer had. You will be tossed from Heaven and forbidden to ever return."
Laughter bubbled out of him, unbidden and unrestricted as soon as they started. Anger curled in his chest as it peppered out and he clambered to his feet. "Funny. I always thought I would be banished from my interest in the same gender, not from accusations that I'm associating with a Brother I have not seen since his Falling."
The wrath of God rushed over him and he weathered it, glaring at God as he did so. Unadulterated wrath of his own curled through him aimed at God and Jesus. He didn't care that God knew now, not when he was not even given the chance to be heard out.
Determined to get his piece said, he added, "If your top three Sons are corrupted, what's to say the others are not? Even God can be blinded by His own brilliance and sin."
That earned him the shove from Heaven and pain erupted from his back again as he slammed into the pavement in some alleyway he didn't recognize from where he was prone on his back. He hissed as he moved knowing that he had to hide his wings despite the fact that night had fallen.
Excruciating pain rippled through him with every movement and he tried to hide his wings. He nearly passed out from the pain and gulped down air as he settled on his side willing himself to not pass out.
He wasn't sure if it had been a few minutes or a few hours before he finally managed to get his wings hidden. But when he did get his wings hidden, he had no strength to move. His back was damp from what he could only presume was blood and the rest of him chilled from sweat as the night grew colder around him. Shivering, he curled tighter in on himself and settled in to sleep, not caring.
There was the sound of wings on the edge of his consciousness and for a moment he thought he had finally fallen asleep but then there were hands on him - careful and barely there - as a familiar voice called his name.
He frowned, eyes trying to flutter open and they only opened enough to let him see a blurry form kneeling before him that seemed as if out of a dream. Or an old memory. A kind hand carded through his curls and he voiced without thinking, "Lucifer?"
"What happened?" the figure asked and Michael's brain misfired.
He tried to force himself more coherent, moving to sit up, but his back spasmed and the figure pushed at his shoulders to keep him still. No. It couldn't be. Not after all this, not after everything thing that had happened. There was no way. "Lucifer? Truly?" he urged again but what strength he had suddenly faded and darkness quickly swallowed him as the figure above him promised, "Hang in there, Michael. I'm going to get you somewhere safe."
Blissful darkness swallowed him even as his mind was left bewildered and confused.
"I still can't believe that was your first instinct in such a situation," Luciano teased gently, returning to a conversation as he turned and started up the path the way Michael had been heading.
Michael fell into step beside him. "It really isn't. Just a habit bred at work out of good humor and such." Michael shrugged, feeling awkward. "It mostly slips out when I'm nervous, it would seem."
Luciano looked at him but Michael ignored him. "You're nervous?"
Michael winced. "Ah, maybe that's the wrong word. Anxious, then?"
Luciano stopped walking, hand gently curling around Michael's bicep as Michael came to a stop as well. Michael was surprised to see the frown on his companion's face. "I'm making you anxious?"
Michael quickly raised his hands. "No, no! Just the...situation. I-ah, geez. How do I explain this?" Michael rubbed the back of his neck, gaze going to the expanse of grass to his left. "I, uh, may not have ever believed that you of all people would actually consider to date me?"
"Oh?"
Michael shrugged, uncomfortable and growing more so the longer this went on. "I....it's not that I'm not interested in dating you or anything but the last time I had someone who was out of my league ask me out, it had been a joke."
Luciano's hand was on his cheek, drawing his gaze from the grass to the nearly red eyes looking down on him. "I am serious. If you are interested, I would like to go get breakfast at a diner I know and we can call it a date. Should it not work out, I would like to at least settle as friends. You seem like an interesting man and, as you so keenly pointed out, we do keep running into each other despite everything."
Michael shook his head, the action taking Luciano's hand from his cheek. "But I'm a stranger. Why ask me out on a date?"
"Because you are breathtaking."
Michael's breath caught in his chest and he stared at Luciano. He was joking, right? There was no way he even came close to compare to the Adonis before him.
"And because you are clearly very kind, very intelligent, and, in all honesty, you remind me of someone I haven't seen in years." Luciano smiled softly. "So, yes, I get something out of this by spending a morning with you, as I believe you put it. But it isn't in search of finding a replacement so much as making new memories and meeting new people."
Michael gave a breathless laugh. Out of all his words, Michael couldn't find one lie. That didn't mean there wasn't one but it certainly put him at far more ease than anything else probably would have. Nodding, he agreed with Luciano's terms. "Alright. Breakfast. And afterwards, we can decide on another date or simply being friends."
Luciano beamed at him and a sensation Michael had never experienced before rushed through him. It was dizzying even as his mind pointed out that there was something oddly familiar about that look, about Luciano with such an expression. But the thought was fleeting and silenced by Luciano taking his hand. "Excellent. The diner is just a short walk from here."
The next three hours pass in a heady blur. During those three hours, the two of them talked and talked, staying in the diner booth long after their plates were cleared talking and laughing and Michael forgot quite often just who he was having breakfast with. It was when they were back in the park walking towards Michael's home that he remembered the strongest.
He steeled himself against the answer to his question. "So, did it go as you had hoped?"
Luciano hummed. As nonsequencial as the question was in their conversation, it seemed the man had understood his meaning as he answered with, "Probably not as smoothly as I had hoped, but certainly the result was the same."
Luciano entangled their fingers, buzzing with pleasure and happiness. It made Michael smile weakly even as his heart grew heavy. "And what of the press?"
That seemed to have taken Luciano by surprise because the man gave him a blank stare. Michael came to a stop and Luciano mirrored him, thumb idly rubbing at the back of Michael's hand. Michael elaborated. "You're one of the world's most sought after bachelors from a predominant family of bachelors. This relationship will not go unnoticed."
Luciano shrugged. "I don't care about all that. It's inconsequential."
Michael shook his head, distraught. "But what if it isn't to me?"
Luciano gave him a look that was far sharper and far harder than anything Michael had witnessed from the man, especially directed at himself. "Come off it, Michael. You're above all that."
"Am I?" Michael challenged. He yanked his hand free from Luciano's hold and for the briefest of instances, he regretted the action when loss and pain crossed the other's face but it was gone as quickly as it had surfaced. "Am I really? Luciano, I'm a simple cafe barista in the middle of a massive city. I have no wealth and I certainly have no interest in being the center of attention like that." Michael gave him a soft smile but it felt strained. He hoped it didn't look as such. "You are an amazing person, Luciano, and I would enjoy nothing more than to go on another date with you-"
"Then why don't you?" Luciano interrupted but Michael kept going.
"-but I need to know that you understand that it will take time for me to adjust to the idea that this isn't simply a ploy or some elaborate dream I'm bound to wake up from." This time the smile he gave was tight and humorless. "There will be some conflict personally about all this. As much as I find you attractive, my home life growing up had never been open to such relations and I cannot act as if I didn't grow up without realizing I had been in the closet the entire time."
Something crossed Luciano's face and suddenly Lucifer's face was superimposed over Luciano's face and Michael started as the other's hand carded through his curls. "Oh, Michael," Luciano uttered, his words soft and doing nothing to change the impression Michael was choking on. "Of course I understand and am more than willing to try if you're willing to be patient with me. I've lived for so long getting what I want when I want it that I forget that sometimes there are things that bother others that no longer bother me. I will do all that I can to make sure you stay out of the media till you are ready. Is that enough to have you at least think about a second date?"
Michael swallowed thickly, nodding. It was enough to guarantee at least two but he was afraid if he tried to speak, he would accidentally call the man Lucifer and he'd much prefer avoid being accused of anything. Luciano smiled at him and offered him his hand once more. "Shall I walk you home, then?"
"Just to the corner," Michael compromised with a soft smile, his hand trembling slightly. "I'd feel more comfortable knowing you are still rather oblivious as to where exactly I live."
Luciano chuckled. "Of course."
They walked in companionable silence for the rest of the way. When they arrived at the point they would separate, Michael expected Luciano to push the matter but the other man simply raised Michael's hand to his lips causing Michael to blush.
"You have my number, correct?" Luciano verified, breath ghosting over Michael's knuckles.
Michael nodded. "I'll text you later so that we can arrange another date."
Luciano beamed. Michael suppressed a shudder. He couldn't stop seeing Lucifer in the man and it was starting to get worrisome.
It didn't help the growing fear of the consequences awaiting him when those Above discover his lack of abiding to God's one rule.
"I look forward to your text and our next meeting, then," Luciano happily replied. He pressed another kiss to Michael's knuckles before turning and walking away.
Michael waited till the man was at what he deemed was a suitable distance before turning about and started for home.
His apartment was dark in the sense that all the lights were still off but the blinds did very little to keep the daylight out so he kept the lights off as he entered his home. Shoes tucked away by the door, he flopped down onto his couch and released a long sigh as his eyes fell closed.
When he opened them again, his apartment was still well lit from the daylight and the shadows of the tree outside played on the ceiling. Sitting up, he curled all the way forward and rubbed at his face with his elbows propped onto his knees.
Why had he been unable to shake the impression that Luciano was Lucifer? He hadn't seen his Brother in ages and there was no way Lucifer would be interested in him like that. Michael was very certain that Lucifer would have enjoyed swooning all but to find interest in another Archangel would have been far from Lucifer's character.
A hand carded through his curls and fear froze him in place as Jesus's voice curled around him. "You certainly know how to get yourself into trouble, don't you, dear Brother?"
Michael jerked back only for Jesus's hand to fist his hair and keep him from going very far. The other forced Michael's head back as Jesus loomed over him, a devious, satisfied smirk marring the face above him. "I would have thought you would have heeded my words, dear Brother. Certainly you knew I was watching and would not have taken kindly to you affiliating with Lucifer."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Michael ground out.
Jesus's face lit up at that and Michael swallowed a cry of pain when Jesus yanked on his hair to get him off the couch. "Oh, I'm sure you don't but Father doesn't know that, does he?"
The world around them swirled and Michael collapsed to his knees at Jesus's shoving as they appeared in Heaven. Michael shuddered at the sensation of Heaven. His content on Earth had dimmed the memories and now he felt overstimulated by what was his home.
He squinted against the harsh light, finding himself on his knees before God.
"Father," Jesus spoke, looking for all intents and purposes as the Son of God from before his corruption. "I can no longer stand idly by as my Brother deceives you down on Earth. I have tried to urge him to not to interact with the Fallen yet he goes against Your Word and reaches out to those that cannot be saved."
Had Michael not known Jesus as well as he did, he would have assumed that the pain that Jesus was emitting was true and pure. Even knowing Jesus well caused guilt to churn in his chest even as he drowned in confusion. He hadn't been interacting with Lucifer! As much as he missed his Brother, he had no idea where the Fallen was even at.
God focused on him and Michael found himself staring at the ground before his knees, unable to look at God after having been away for so long. "Michael," God's voice spoke, the sound wrapping around him so thickly that Michael lost all sense of Heaven. "Tell me: do you despise me so much as to go against my word?"
"Of course not, Father," Michael urged, his throat tight. Why was he here being judged? He had done nothing wrong!
"Yet you interact with those that I have stated were to be rejected and turned away." Michael flinched at that. There was a pause long enough that Michael started to wonder if God would speak again. "Michael, tell me: do you wish I had not cast Lucifer from Heaven?"
The lie was on his tongue but the compulsion to tell the truth was irrefutable. Hate coiled within him at the fact that God was forcing him to speak the truth. "Yes," Michael stated far calmer than he felt. "He is our Brother and should have been forgiven and given another chance."
There was a wave of displeasure from God and Michael bowed at the weight of it. "Tell me: if I had given you the chance, would you have gone against me the night of Lucifer's banishment."
"Yes."
The word - that single word - was passed his lips before he could even think, before he could even try to deny it. But he had been thinking about that night since Jesus's words had sparked those fragmented memories and he felt it even in his own soul that the word was true.
Pain erupted from his back and filled his body as God forced his wings to show. He cried out as his hands scraped against the ground in an attempt to keep himself from collapsing completely, tears streaking down his face. His entire body quivered as the pain ripped through it. Through the haze of pain, he caught sight of feathers drifting down around him and through the pain he turned his head as his wing came into view.
Everything seemed to stop. There was no pain - no emotion - as he stared at what were supposed to be his wings.
He stared at a wing and was suddenly back to the night before Lucifer was kicked from Heaven under the moonlight. Even looking back now, Lucifer's wings had still looked radiant and beautiful even as they changed, clearly something the embodiment of Pride could be proud of, but his....
Michael felt sick as he took in the wing that looked damaged and ratty, as if they hadn't been tended to after haven gotten caught in something. There was no beauty in it like there had been in Lucifer's and Michael wondered if that was his punishment or a result of giving into sin so quickly for he could no longer doubt that he had given into sin.
God's words slowly registered in Michael's mind. "You were one of my most powerful creations, third only to Jesus and Lucifer and yet you have clearly become corrupted just as Lucifer had. You will be tossed from Heaven and forbidden to ever return."
Laughter bubbled out of him, unbidden and unrestricted as soon as they started. Anger curled in his chest as it peppered out and he clambered to his feet. "Funny. I always thought I would be banished from my interest in the same gender, not from accusations that I'm associating with a Brother I have not seen since his Falling."
The wrath of God rushed over him and he weathered it, glaring at God as he did so. Unadulterated wrath of his own curled through him aimed at God and Jesus. He didn't care that God knew now, not when he was not even given the chance to be heard out.
Determined to get his piece said, he added, "If your top three Sons are corrupted, what's to say the others are not? Even God can be blinded by His own brilliance and sin."
That earned him the shove from Heaven and pain erupted from his back again as he slammed into the pavement in some alleyway he didn't recognize from where he was prone on his back. He hissed as he moved knowing that he had to hide his wings despite the fact that night had fallen.
Excruciating pain rippled through him with every movement and he tried to hide his wings. He nearly passed out from the pain and gulped down air as he settled on his side willing himself to not pass out.
He wasn't sure if it had been a few minutes or a few hours before he finally managed to get his wings hidden. But when he did get his wings hidden, he had no strength to move. His back was damp from what he could only presume was blood and the rest of him chilled from sweat as the night grew colder around him. Shivering, he curled tighter in on himself and settled in to sleep, not caring.
There was the sound of wings on the edge of his consciousness and for a moment he thought he had finally fallen asleep but then there were hands on him - careful and barely there - as a familiar voice called his name.
He frowned, eyes trying to flutter open and they only opened enough to let him see a blurry form kneeling before him that seemed as if out of a dream. Or an old memory. A kind hand carded through his curls and he voiced without thinking, "Lucifer?"
"What happened?" the figure asked and Michael's brain misfired.
He tried to force himself more coherent, moving to sit up, but his back spasmed and the figure pushed at his shoulders to keep him still. No. It couldn't be. Not after all this, not after everything thing that had happened. There was no way. "Lucifer? Truly?" he urged again but what strength he had suddenly faded and darkness quickly swallowed him as the figure above him promised, "Hang in there, Michael. I'm going to get you somewhere safe."
Blissful darkness swallowed him even as his mind was left bewildered and confused.