neutral_omens | (no subject)

Date: December 29, 1999
Setting: First corridor, then Raphael's room
Status: Private -- Michael and Raphael (Complete)
Summary: Michael runs into a hungover Raphael.

Michael ran a hand through his hair, this time more in distress than his usual nervousness. Grasping a few blond locks, he then held on, slowly walking down the corridor with his hand still in his hair, deep in thought.

He couldn't sleep. Well, so he didn't really have to sleep, either, but now, when he really would have wanted to sleep just to escape it all, he found himself absolutely unable to. His mind simply couldn't go to rest right now. Therefore, he had ended up walking around the manor for the whole night, and now, it being morning, he was still on his way to nowhere particular.

Whatever he tried to force himself to think about, his mind always returned to the same topic. Raphael. Raphael, and his love for him, and his rejection, and how much it all hurt. His conversation with Uriel had done little to help; rather he felt even more confused than before. And, while he was badly hurt by the cold rejection, he still longed to at least see Raphael, to talk with him, to be close to him.

Oh, yeah. Like that'd ever happen; Raphael clearly hated him now. Well, an angel could always dream, right?

Suddenly, he froze as he saw a figure approaching him. At first, he didn't recognize the odd being. Surely he had never encountered somebody who looked like that. Something in the back of his mind told him that he should have recognized this stranger, that he did know him, in fact, but he determinedly ignored this feeling. After all, he only knew two redheads, and this couldn't be either of them, as one of them was female and the other would surely never wear something like that.

The other came a bit nearer, and suddenly realization dawned on Michael. His jaw hang open in shock and surprise as he could no longer deny that he knew this "stranger".

"Ra -- raphael?" he stammered disbelievingly. "Is that you?"

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Michael blinked a couple of times. No, this was definitely not Raphael's usual behaviour, not at all. A part of him wondered whether he was truly seeing this. Maybe this was just some bizarre dream, his restless mind having finally drifted into sleep?

As Raphael asked his question, his response was, "Er... who?" Of course, that kind of questions usually indicated that the answer was the one who asked, but now, it didn't seem likely. Well, so it did seem likely indeed, but it still didn't make sense. Hadn't Raphael just a few days earlier seemed to think that making an effort was about the vilest of all sins?

Besides, whenever he tried to actually think about Raphael making an effort, his mind immediately wandered off to things it should not even try to approach. Or, at least, if it did, he would soon be very, very disturbed. Especially with Raphael standing there, closer to him than he'd been in days, looking so strange in those clothes and yet so beautiful...

However, he never got an answer to his question as Raphael suddenly started to fall. Acting on pure instinct, he leapt forward, catching the other archangel just in time. Carefully raising Raphael back into a somewhat upright position but not letting go yet, he then asked worriedly, "Are you feeling quite all right, Raphael?"

Raphael felt his body being caught by his mind couldn't seem to focus enough to answer the questions - at least not at the moment. He was pushed upright but was suddenly struck by a wave of dizziness and nausea.

He felt a telltale burning at the back of his throat and he knew what was, unfortunately, coming next. His head flopped forward and he vomited, heaving until his mouth tasted acrid and nothing else seemed to be coming.

After a coughing spell he looked upwards.

"No... no I don't think so..."

Then he bent over again.

Michael was too stunned by Raphael's appearance and obviously rather poor condition to even think of being disgusted as Raphael threw up on him. He merely held his hands on the other angel's shoulders. When Raphael appeared to have finished vomiting for the second time, he miracled the whole mess away with a thought.

He cringed a bit. Making an effort did make getting drunk more enjoyable. However, it had the tendency to make the hangover even worse, too. He felt truly sorry for Raphael -- so much so that only a small part of his mind happened to even wonder just how -- and, more importantly, why -- the mild and proper Raphael had gone and got himself into such a condition.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked with all the adoring devotion of somebody who is hopelessly in love, knows that it is hopeless, and doesn't really care. "Anything to make you feel a bit better?"

Raphael wiped a smear of vomit off his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to stand up. He barely noticed that the mess was gone; his head was pounded and he felt like he was going to black out or puke again at any moment.

"If't wouldn't be too much..." He took a step then leaned against the wall. "If it wouldn't be too much to ask, maybe you could help me back? Need to sleep it off... used up too much energy helping the people... 'm tired..."

He could feel his body sag as he struggled to stay upright.

Michael felt his heart melt as he watched the other archangel. Apparently Raphael didn't fully realize just who he was talking with; otherwise, he would have probably told him to simply get lost. Well, he wasn't going to complain, that was for sure.

As he saw Raphael starting to slide down the wall his heart ached. The healer's obvious weakness hurt him as well. Deciding that at the moment it was most important to help Raphael and not dwell in his own thoughts, he stepped forward, coming to the other archangel's side.

As it looked like Raphael could not walk far on his own, Michael crouched a bit. Placing one arm behind Raphael's knees and the other behind his shoulders, he then simply picked the redhaired healer up into his arms, starting to walk towards Raphael's room.

As Raphael felt himself being lifted, he allowed his muscles to go slack. Not that they weren't mostly there already. Michael was carrying him with seemingly little or no effort; he would have been moderately impressed if he hadn't felt so complete smashed.

His mouth tasted like a disgusting combination of coffee and bile. Even as they neared his room he felt nauseated and retched again. By then there was nothing to come back up but his muscles still convulsed, trying to empty his stomach of fluid that wasn't there.

"Watch out for Frankie," he mumbled as they got nearer.

Michael shifted Raphael in his arms a bit as he felt the other archangel going completely slack. Raphael felt very light in his arms; whether this was because he truly was light in weight or he just felt like it was rather unclear. Not paying much thought to this problem, Michael continued his way towards the redhead's room, silently enjoying the feeling of holding his dear Raphael in his arms.

However, when rather near to reaching the room he heard Raphael's mumbled words, he raised an eyebrow om question. "Frankie?" he echoed, not understanding. Just what was the healer talking about?

"Frankie. My dog," Raphael said, closing his eyes. "Doesn't like strangers."

He swallowed with difficult and tried to sit up in Michael's arms.

"Are we almost there?" He wanted very much to lay down and he knew that he needed something to drink. His body was dehydrating and without the ability to miracle anything away he would have to get something from the sink or have Michael do it.

Either way, he needed to rest and recooperate. He was beginning to wonder just what had possessed him to do something so idiotic.

Michael was a bit surprised at that. He hadn't known that Raphael had a dog. In fact, he was pretty much certain Raphael didn't have one. Either this was a quite recent developement, or Raphael was getting delirious in addition to nauseous.

As the other archangel tried to sit up in his arms, he shifted his arms again a bit, allowing Raphael to reach a hopefully more comfortable position. The question didn't surprise him; if he'd felt even half as bad as Raphael looked, the only thing in his mind would have been to get some rest, too.

"We are there about... right now," he said, stopping in front of the door he knew to lead to Raphael's room. "Don't worry, you'll soon get some proper rest."

Having his both hands quite full of a rather hungover angel, he had no option but to miracle the door open. Then, he carried Raphael into the room.