neutral_omens | (no subject)

Entry tags:

michael,
raphael

(no subject)

Date: December 12th, 1999
Status: Private - Michael and Raphael (Complete)
Setting: The Lobby
Summary: Necessary rearrangements to the ornaments and what happened then.

Michael wandered to the lobby, taking a look at the Christmas Tree. There'd been a few additions since he had last seen it. Seeing a tiny rod of Asclepius, he smiled, knowing who had hung it there. If he concentrated enough he could almost sense a bit of Raphael's aura radiating from the small ornament.
Then, however, he noticed something absolutely shocking. The two little angels that had been so happily holding hands when he'd last seen them were now sitting apart! And on separated branches, even. Now, that most certainly wouldn't do. The poor angels were both so lonely that way!
So, taking them into gentle hands, he yet again set them sitting next to each other. As he nodded at them, they again took a hold of each other's hand, seemingly quite happy.
Michael nodded to himself. Yes, that was very good.
Then, however, he froze as he heard something he had definitely not expected to hear.

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Raphael saw Michael over at the tree and wondered what he was doing. As he got closer, he realized that the other angel was adjusting the ornaments he himself had separated earlier.

Surprised, he cleared his throat.

"Michael?" He asked timidly. "Um... what do you think you're doing with those ornaments?"

Realizing that he had been caught, Michael turned around very slowly. Raphael was looking at him with a rather surprised and somewhat confused expression.
"Err... nothing?" he offered as an initial reaction, trying to appear as innocent as possible.
(As he was an angel, he should have been able to pull off a pretty impressive innocent expression. However, as the case was, he didn't manage very well. He rather looked guilty, as in, "I just killed your spouse, kids, and your dog for the good measure, too, and I ate them and buried the remnants in your backyard, hope you don't mind" kind of guilty. Well, not exactly, but close enough.)

Raphael looked at him curiously, more than a bit confused. Why wouldn't Michael just tell him what he was doing?

"Why did you put those two back... together. Don't you think they look a little, well...

Inappropriate?" He said, hoping Michael would get the message.

"Well..." Michael ran a hand through his hair -- his favourite thing to do when he was nervous/bored/just didn't know what to do with his hands. "I rather thought that they looked a bit lonely apart," he said sheepishly. Surely Raphael would agree with him?
...Hopefully Raphael would agree with him...

Raphael watching him running his fingers through his hair. Michael only did that when he was nervous. But what could be making him nervous?

"Well, there are lots of other angels around. On the tree, that is. And one doesn't have to be touching to not be lonely. Angels can not be touching but still keeping one another company."

He smiled brightly.

"Look at us for instance. We're not touching but we're still talking together, right?"

'But I'd much rather touch you,' Michael thought, but didn't say it aloud, of course. Aloud, he said, "But the other angels don't look lonely, they look happy. Besides, they're all almost similar, and so they don't feel lonely because there are so many of them. These two," he pointed at the two that were still holding hands, "are different, see? They don't look like any of the other angels; they're the only ones of their kind. That's bound to be lonely. And besides, they did look rather unhappy sitting apart. I couldn't allow any angel to be miserable during this time of the year, no matter if it's only a little ornament."

Raphael was beginning to feel rather odd.

"They're all the same? Come now. You know He makes each of use unique and special. And... and... they're only ornaments, how can they be unhappy?"

He cleared his throat.

"I mean, you don't want people getting the wrong idea about them do you?"

"Wrong idea? What do you mean?" This time Michael was a bit more successfull in his attempt to look innocent. "And yeah, those others are all the same. They could be any angels, any at all. These two... They look like they could actually be someones." 'Shut up!' his brain was currently screaming at his mouth. Sadly, the mouth didn't seem to be listening.
"And besides, as you said, they're just ornaments. How ever could people get the 'wrong idea' about ornaments?"
Half of Michael was hoping that Raphael would catch on. The other half was desperately hoping that he wouldn't. If Raphael actually realized just what was going on, there was no telling how he would react.

"You know. Looking... suggestive," he whispered. "I mean, they should be angelic. Not... well... you know," he finished lamely.

"Look like someone? Like who? And the ornaments are still... angel shaped. It gives the wrong impression. Just like books or songs or art, even. If its... well, like I said. People just take things the wrong way sometimes."

He sighed.

"Maybe I'm just reading too much into it."

"Well, what's more angelic than a pretty display of affection?" asked Michael. "I mean, we're supposed to love all of His creation, right? And it's especially important to love thy neighbour. That's all there is to this."

'You're treading on very thin ice at the moment, Mike,' he thought to himself.

"Yeah, perhaps you're reading too much into it," he then finished. "I mean, it's just two little ornaments sitting on the tree. They're probably singing praise together or something. Nothing to worry about."

However, he couldn't quite suppress the twinge of disappointment that surged through him as he said this.

"I guess affection isn't so bad, though I'm not sure about affection for a specific being. I mean, we should love all equally, right?" He paused.

"All angels love everything and everyone the same, don't they Michael?" He asked, suddenly uncertain. "I mean, isn't that they way it's supposed to be?"

"Well, I suppose..." Michael said rather hesitantly. "Although, truth be told, I would find it rather difficult to love one of those demons as much as, say, one of my fellow archangels." He flashed Raphael a smile, the effect quite spoiled by the fact that he was once again running his hand through his hair. Maybe he should just cut his hair short. At least he'd get rid of that irritating habit; it always gave away his feelings.

Then, he added, "And, as I find it difficult, I don't even try. Am I such a bad angel if I want to smite demons but not a fellow angel? If I loved demons as much as those close to me, I couldn't smite them, and they'd be free to harass humanity. And that wouldn't be good, now would it?"

After thinking for a moment, he added, "I think it's not really as simple as loving everything equally. Maybe it's that we have to love everything, demons, too, for the fact that they are His creations. However, we can also love some beings just for themselves. I certainly do not love a demon in the same way I love, say, you," 'SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! screamed his mind, just to be ignored, "and I should hope you don't feel the same about the vilest demon as you do about me."

"Well, I was thinking more of humans and the like. I mean... demons are the exception, aren't they? You know. It does no good to love them. They're beyond that.

I was thinking more amongst angels. Just that. I mean, nobody is going to call you a bad angel for fulfilling your duty. That's what we're supposed to do.

But what about loving one angel more than the others? Because if anything happened out of lust surely an angel would fall but then that means if it was love then they loved one more than..."

He sighed and fell silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I'm taking everything wrong. Just... I asked that one demon a question and he made lots of... insinuations. About angels. And making efforts. And things like that."

He smiled weakly.

"Of course a fellow angel would mean more than a demon. That's just natural. And as I said, that... discussion... just put me a bit out of sorts. It's OK, really.

The ornaments look very nice," he said politely.

"Yes, demons are beyond love," Michael said, nodding in agreement at Raphael's first statement. "After all, they turned their back to His love; they definitely don't need ours." For some reason this made him think about Gabriel and Belial. Disgusted, he threw the thought out of his mind with haste.

"But loving one angel more than others? What's wrong with that? I mean, love's the greatest of all, isn't it? So, more love, more greatness. Simple as that. And as for lust, well, that's another matter altogether." 'Mainly because I can somehow justify my love for you, but the lust is a bit harder to reason,' he then thought ot himself.

As Raphael then mentioned a discussion with a demon, however, he became watchful. "Which of the demons?" he asked, then immediately waved off his own question. "Oh, no, don't tell me. It was Crowley, right?" Well, of course it was. If Belial meant trouble, Crowley was worth three Belials. At least. "Don't take anything he says seriously. After all, he is the one demon who introduced the Original Sin to humanity. About every word that passes his lips is a lie and a transgression in itself. Never pay any mind to anything he might say." 'Especially when he's obviously said it just to get me in trouble.'

"Thank you," he then said on the subject of the ornaments. He took notice that the two angels were not holding hands anymore, and suppressed a sigh. Well, at least they were still sitting next to each other. "I noticed your ornament, too. It's very nice."

"That's right," said Raphael, who tried to push away his own mental image of Crowley hovering over Aziraphale. "They don't love or accept love; it's not like a human who can be redeemed.

But... I don't think He meant that kind of love. The... sticky... kind."

He looked down and wanted to disappear.

"It was Crowley. Normally I wouldn't heed his words at all. I don't know why I did this time. He just said some things that sounded really..."

He suddenly looked back up and stared Michael in the eye, seeking reassurance.

"Michael - you never make an effort, do you?"

Before Michael couldn't even consider responding to any of Raphael's statements he was brought to absolute shock by the last question. Coming from the sweet, innocent red-haired angel's mouth such a thing sounded very foreign. Even if all the innocence Raphael had managed to put in the words, he was still shocked.

You never make an effort, do you?

Oh, how he would have wanted to lie. He'd never before in his existence wanted to lie as much. Of course, he was in theory capable of lies, although he did despise having to steep to such measures, but now he found himself unable to just smile and say, 'No, of course not,' or something like that. Staring into Raphael's eyes, so full of honesty and innocence, so wholeheartedly trusting him to simply tell the truth, he knew that he just couldn't lie, not to Raphael, not now.

But he couldn't exactly tell the truth, either.

After a moment of silence, Michael simply turned his gaze away, unable to bear that intent stare any longer. Of course, this was an answer in itself.

Michael didn't respond and his silence boomed for the other angel. He looked away and Raphael felt like a carpet had been ripped out from underneath him.

Michael made an effort?

He couldn't help himself and made an involuntary noise of surprise.

"Why?" He managed to say. "Why would you do that?"

take a look at your friends sometime and tell me again that no angels you know make an effort

"I thought the demon was just lying..." He swallowed, feeling nauseous. Michael was an angel among angels... if he wasn't sexless, then nobody was about suspicion.

Suspicion...

I get the feeling that there's a certain male shaped being around who'd like to try it with you...

He grew quieter.

"You kept running your fingers through your hair. You only do that when you're nervous. What are you nervous about Michael?" He asked, his low tone starting to become accusatory.

"And what did you mean by those ornaments, anyway?" He wondered coldly. "I suppose you thought that they ought to be 'making an effort' too?"

His eyes stung and he wondered if this was what betrayal felt like. The one angel whom he assumed would share his sentiments...

And he made an effort.

Michael turned back towards Raphael, feeling helpless. What was he supposed to say to that? Because he liked the sensations a truly human body gave him? Because he didn't only love, but also wanted? Because he wanted and desired and lusted, and the object of all those feelings was Raphael, sweet, pure, innocent Raphael?

No. He wasn't about to tell Raphael that. And so, he remained silent.

It took all willpower Michael had left not to run his hand through his hair when Raphael mentioned that. This did surprise him a bit, though. Usually Raphael wasn't really the most observant of beings; rather, he was about as unobservant as an angel only could be. That he had actually not only noticed but also interpreted right his little habit was quite startling.

Of course, it definitely didn't make him any less nervous.

Ah, yes, the ornaments. An almost desperate chuckle escaped his lips as Raphael spoke about the tiny ornament angels making an effort. Oh, wouldn't he have loved that, to have Raphael respond to his feelings in such a way. Had the redhead even correctly guessed just who the two little angels represented to him?

Raphael was staring at him, obviously waiting for an answer. And, knowing that he would have to speak sooner or later, Michael said the only thing that came to his mind at the moment as he averted his eyes, unable to bear the intent stare full of hurt and betrayal.

"I... I am sorry, Raphael," he whispered, closing his eyes. From the corner of his eye a single tear fell, trailing down his cheek as he bowed his head, turning halfly away from the other archangel. "I am sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Raphael asked in a flat, still voice.

"Apparently the demon was right and I'm the ignorant one. So tell me - do they all make efforts? Gabriel? Aziraphale? Metatron? Am I the only sexless one? The only stupid one?"

He paused for a moment. A furious blush graced his cheeks.

"So tell me, is it as fun as the demon says it is? As enjoyable? Enlighten me. Demons lie so tell me the truth.

And while we're at it - got any kids?" He added as a last, uncharacteristic barb.

Michael shuddered at Raphael's tone of voice. This was the worst one possible. Anger he might have handled, disappointment even -- well, even disgust, had it come down to it. However, this flat tone, hiding so much hurt and sense of bertrayal behind itself, was more painful than anything else might have.

"No, I don't have kids," he choked out. "I have never actually had sex with somebody -- never, Raphael! You have to believe me, I've never slept with anybody! Making an effort doesn't necessarily equal sex. And --"

He stopped for a moment, thinking about what he should say. Then, he sighed. "As for the others, well, I don't know, although I doubt I'm the only one. Gabriel? I suppose so. Aziraphale? Probably. Metatron? I do not know, and I honestly do not even want to know. And you are not stupid," he added then as an afterthought. "Remaining sexless doesn't make you stupid... just innocent. Perhaps we're the stupid ones." He laughed, a desperate sound, the laughter of somebody who is trapped and doesn't know of an escape.

"Fun? Enjoyable? Depends on what exactly you're asking about. As I already told you, I have never slept with anyone. I have never actually cared about somebody enough to sleep with them -- I definitely don't go for casual sex. But making an effort? Yes. The sensations you get from turning your body wholly human, the feelings... it's overwhelming, really. And although I've never slept with another being... I have... well, played with myself, occasionally. And yes, it is enjoyable. Very much so. On that, the demon did not lie to you." Now, he certainly couldn't look at Raphael. He knew that there would only be disgust in those honest eyes, the gentle smile replaced with a grimace. That he couldn't bear.

He couldn't bear to know that Raphael hated him.

"You MASTURBATE?" Raphael nearly choked and his eyes grew wide. "But... but... you're Michael! You lead the host! You're the chief smiter! You must have a thousand churches in your name and you...

And they're all just like you, aren't they?" He whispered. "All of my brethren. The demon didn't lie... And I'm the only one who apparently doesn't feel the need to do this. 'Innocent' you call it. Apparently nobody else cares about that."

Raphael wanted to weep. His face was flushed and he trembled.

"So you haven't actually done it. What does it matter? Surely you've considered it. Surely you've lusted in your mind. Why else would you feel the need to... to... to 'play with yourself.'

And that's as bad as doing it. Lust of the mind. I just wonder who you think of when you..."

He fell silent and felt paralyzed.

"No... NO... He wasn't lying was he? It was you... it is you..."

Raphael looked at him in mute, frozen horror, shaking imperceptibly.

Michael bit his lip. Every word was like a stab straight at his heart. The disgust and disbelief mixed together were wound into something that hit him right at his weakest spots, knowing each and every one. From anybody else he could have taken it. But not from Raphael, not his Raphael, the sweet and pure creature he adored and loved so much.

Oh, he had considered it -- or, rather, dreamt of it, knowing that he could never get the only one he would even consider sleeping with. Sure, he had his own little fantasies, private little games of mind, but those were never going to happen. Especially now, and even more so if Raphael actually made the connection between the two ornament angels and the two of them.

Why did he feel the need to? Because he ached, because he was so full of love and desire and frustration that he couldn't take it anymore. Because Raphael's mere existence, every gentle smile, every word by the sweet voice, everything about the red-haired angel just made Michael want him ever more.

And then, Raphael finally realized it.

Michael bit his lip. This was not going to be easy, but it had to be done. He had to say it, since Raphael was going to hate him anyway, but he couldn't live with himself if he hadn't actually managed to summon the courage to say it aloud. He had made Lucifer Fall from the Heaven, hadn't he? Surely he could handle this. Surely he could once again face the straightforwardness of those eyes, so innocent and open...

"I love you, Raphael," he whispered, knowing that the other angel would hear his words. "I love you so much more than I love anybody else. I want you, I need you, and I feel so bad about it that it's killing me from the inside." He finally turned his eyes at his fellow archangel, tears now freely streaming down his cheeks. "Come on, say it. Just say that you hate me, despise me, whatever. Tell me just how disgusting I am! Hit me, if it makes you feel any better!" A sob bursted out of his chest as he was unable to stop it, the emotions becoming too much for him to handle all at once.

"Yes, I am Michael. I am the Warrior Prince of Heaven. I lead the Host, I am the one who once slew Lucifer himself. But I'm no better than any of the others. I am just as vulnerable as any other angel. You are still innocent. Remember that, cherish that, and have that as your last comfort when you notice that nobody's perfect, nobody but Him."

"I just happened to fall in love with you," he finally said, his voice now below any whisper. "Is it truly that wrong to love?" And, raising his eyes, now full of tears, to look at the other celestial being, he waited for the words that would most probably be either the damnation or the salvation of his badly aching heart.

Raphael looked at him, still frozen, still not knowing what to think. Then he snapped out of his stupor and looked at him sternly.

"I love Him. I love the other angels as one ought. Perfection is what we should aspire to. You seem to have forgotten this."

He turned and started to walk away.

"Not that I fault you. Totally, that is. It's this place, I would swear it. It... does things to people.

Pull yourself together," he said sternly. "Go... 'play' if you need to. But I'm not about to make an effort.

Ever."

He turned his back and kept moving.

Michael looked after Raphael's retreating figure. Every step of those light feet was crushing the tiny bits that remained of his shattered heart.

That disgust... that utter hatred, despise he had detected in Raphael... it cut into him so deeply that he couldn't even begin to describe the pain of it.

As the other angel disappeared from sight, Michael's gaze wandered back to the tree and the two little angels still sitting next to each other. A hand lashed out, ready to crush the tiny ornaments, to take out at least some of his furstration and fear and sorrow.

However, just as the fist was about to close around the angels, Michael hesitated. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to crush the tiny objects. Even if they had triggered the chain of events that had eventually led to this pain that he now felt, they still represented something to him.

Very, very gently, he picked the one ornament that looked so very much like Raphael, lifting it up to the top of the tree. Gently placing it at the highest pranch, just beside the angel on the top, he then adored the effect the lights had on the tiny angel, picking up all the wonderful details and the coppery highlights of the fiery hair. And there sat the mini-Raphael, looking over everything from its place of look-out.

Then, the blond archangel turned to the one angel that closely resembled him. For a moment he considered utterly destroying it. Then, however, he changed his mind.

A moment later footsteps retreated.

Under the tree, almost hidden by the shadows, lay a little angel ornament, abandoned and uncared for, looking so very lonely and unhappy.

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