neutral_omens | (no subject)

Entry tags:

mictain,
raphael

(no subject)

Date: March 7, 2000
Setting: The Manor infirmary
Status: Private - Mictain and Raphael -- Complete
Summary: Mictain goes looking for a certain angel.
Rating:

Mictain wandered down the halls with no clear destination. This was not very unusual nowadays. After all, he had little else to do.

He realized he had come close to the infirmary, and that Raphael was likely to be there. After a moment's thinking he headed for it, this time with determination.

It wasn't like he missed the angel or something like that, of course. He was merely bored, and Raphael was pretty. He was fun to tease, too; the healer seemed so afraid of him that it was ridiculous. And perhaps, should he find the healer, he could even touch him -- stroke his cheek, for instance. His skin was so soft and the way he blushed so very very pretty...

Or perhaps he should try to make Raphael forget his fear for him. After all, if there was no fear, he could probably play with the angel's loneliness and lack of Michael and get back into his bed. Because he lusted after him, of course, which was a perfectly proper demonic thing to do, not because he still loved him or something like that. Love was for fools; it only got you hurt in the end. He ought to know.

Not bothering to knock, he opened the door to the infirmary with a broad smirk on his face. "Good afternoon, angel," he said, practically purring with satisfaction as he indeed found Raphael there. "What are you doing here all alone?"

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As soon as he heard the voice, Raphael shivered. He spun around and looked at the demon coldly.

"I'm cleaning up my clinic and waiting to see if anyone needs my services like I ought to. What are you doing besides causing trouble? Need I remind you that we are still in the mansion? To say nothing of the fact that it's daylight and there are others about."

He quietly slid open a drawer and pocketed a scalpel. No sense in being unprotected either; he didn't like the tone of the other's voice and was already on edge. Who knew what the demon might try.

Mictain raised an eyebrow. "Now, now. I haven't even said anything yet, aside from greeting you," he said, flashing a fanged grin. "Last I knew it wasn't called causing trouble. For your information, I haven't done anything wrong since my... arrical. Not a thing, which is definitely less than what Michael did during his time here. Unless you count talking to you as causing trouble, like you apparently do. Makes me wonder how much of that trouble is because of you."

He noticed Raphael arming himself. Whatever he was nowadays, he was still a warrior. He wasn't about to miss a weapon being pocketed in his presence by a being who had every reason to hate him. Or, rather, had no true reason to hate him -- what had he ever done, aside from taking Michael's place? -- but who thought he had every reason to do so. He didn't say anything, merely gazed meaningfully at the pocket with the scalpel, hoping the healer would get the hint.

"I know we're still in the manor, yeah. I may have been easy to mislead, but even I am not as thick as to miss a big, old building all around us. What does that have to do with anything, though? It's not like I was trying to attack somebody or anything. I simply want to talk."

"Oh, I'm sure," Raphael said dryly. "Talk. Yes. That's you intend to do. What are you planning on? Infuriating me? Chastising me for something that wasn't in the end, really my fault?"

He swallowed and wished the demon would go away or at least wouldn't smile so much.

"You know, the most trouble was caused when we were together. Since this is my space, then, in the interest of preventing trouble, I suggest you leave. After all, we've nothing to talk about."

His hand sweated on the scalpel and he knew Mictain had seen, but he wasn't about to let it go either.

"I can't think of a thing I want to say to you. So why don't you just go?"

Mictain grinned. "I do not want to infuriate you," he replied, "although I think it'd be more of a challenge not to make you angry than to do so. It appears you haven't been very kind to anybody lately. And I've no intention of chastising you, either, but it appears that anything I say will end up making you even angrier, so it's about the same what I do here."

He licked his lips briefly before continuing to talk. "Perhaps you don't have anything to say to me," he said then, "but I enjoy your company too much to leave. You're too pretty; I would miss seeing you the moment I left. You're like a rose -- red, lovely, and full of thorns." He smirked. "I'm not about to leave unless I have a reason to."

The healer couldn't keep from blushing nor could he prevent the hitch in his voice as he answered.

"You're a flatterer. And I don't want to hear it," he muttered, half to convince himself. "No more false compliments. There's only one thing you want - well you won't get it!"

He backed away from the demon, hoping to get into an adjacent room where he could throw the door shut and lock it, then wait until Mictain went away.

"I don't need your criticism or your compliments. Just get out," he said, half insisting and half pleading.

"Flatterer? False compliments? Oh, no, angel," Mictain said, inwardly grinning in satisfaction as he saw the blush on the other being's face. "I'm merely telling the truth. It goes against the job description, sure, but you're worth it." He smirked. "You're even prettier when you blush. It goes so well with your lovely hair."

He then adopted a look of innocence -- well, as close as he could get to that, anyway. "Only one thing I want? My dear Raphael, the only thing I want is your company, and I indeed am getting it even at this very moment."

'I want your body too,' he thought to himself, 'I want to see you writhe beneath me and moan my name and blush in something other than anger.' However, he knew better than to say it aloud.

"And I'm not leaving. It's not like I'm doing something to hurt you or anything. Unless, of course, you count hurting your ego as I no more obey your every whim."

Raphael twitched and decided that he'd had enough. He spun around swiftly and bolted for the nearest hospital room, sliding on the floor just a bit, then turning around and trying to shut the door as quickly as he could, hoping it would be enough.

He wanted him to go away, to just go away...

Raphael was perhaps faster than Mictain, but not that fast. With a couple of strides the demon was by the door Raphael was trying to pull closed, easily forcing it back open again.

"Now, that's not very polite," he said, smirking as he stood in the doorway, blocking Raphael's only way out of the room by his simple presence. "As far as I know I haven't tried to insult you or done anything to deserve such treatment. Rather to the opposite, I'm being nice to you to the best of my abilities, unlike most of the beings in the Manor. And you reward me with running away? Is this what angels call proper behaviour nowadays?"

"Proper behavior is hardly the issue," he responded icily "You are intruding on my private space. So get out or... or I'll scream! I swear I will," he informed in an anxious voice.

He backpedaled nervously, trying to put distance between him and the demon, but failed to notice the bed and stumbled backwards, falling on to the mattress. He blushed and hurried to get up. It was frustrating enough to be at a physical disadvantage but outright clumsiness magnified that gap.

"Private space? I was under the impression that the infirmary is a public place," Mictain replied in slight amusement. "I'm not standing that close, you know." He didn't have the time to say anything else, though, as Raphael backed away from him only to stumble over the bed. For a brief moment, no longer than it took for him to blink, every demonic sence of Mictain's was screaming at him, telling him to just go for it, to take the angel then and there, use that lovely body spread so deliciously on the bed and have no regrets about it. He'd come close to killing that one human before Adam had got involved; he might actually get away with rape.

However, he brushed such instincts aside. If he had sex with Raphael -- like he definitely intended to -- it would have to be because of mutual pleasure, not him forcing himself on the healer. Raphael was simply too pretty to hurt.

However, there was indeed enough of a demon in him to make him open his mouth as Raphael hurried to get back to his feet. "You know, I take back what I said earlier," he said calmly, steppng closer, keeping the healer between himself and the bed. "You do look lovely when you're blushing, but the msot wonderful sight you make when you're lying on the bed." He smirked, licking his lips deliberately like looking at something delicious, his message clear.

The ever-present blush deepened amazingly and Raphael frowned.

"Shut UP!" He screamed. "The infimary is only for those who are legitimately ill - which you are not - and I am not here for your viewing pleasure."

He was glad for his lack of effort at the moment and began trying to think of a way out given that the demon didn't seem eager to abide by his requests and demands to leave. Having nothing left - given that the door was entirely blocked he shot him a whithering glance.

"You like me on the bed so much? Then watch this."

He dove beneath the sheets and miracled blankets and pillows on top of himself until he was totally buried and couldn't be seen.

Mictain merely smirked at Raphael's outburst -- it wasn't like the healer could really do anything to hurt him even with his scalpel. Then, however, he blinked in surprise as Raphael buried himself under a pile of blankets and pillows. Now, that he definitely hadn't expected.

Then, however, he smirked just more widely. Raphael perhaps didn't realize it, but as long as he stayed under that heap, he wasn't about to move anywhere far. With this in mind, the demon made his way to the bed, sitting down on its edge. Carefully he slid his hand under the pile that hid the healer, continuing snaking it around between the blankets until he came in contact with Raphael. Enjoying the feeling of the lovely flesh under his hand -- even if separated by layers of cloth -- he stroked gentley whatever part of the healer he was currently touching.

Beneath the piles of fabric Raphael's eyes suddenly snapped wide open.

"GET YOUR HAND OFF MY ASS!" He screamed, springing up out of the sheets and twisting to the side, tumbling off the far edge of the bed in a twisted mass of sheets and pillows.

Mictain blinked, not having expected such a violent reaction. Then, however, he smirked, summoning then a childish pout to his face. "Why? It's such a nice ass," he said. "It's not like I haven't touched it before, either."

With a fangy smirk, he added, "I didn't mean to offend you, though. It's just quite hard to see what I'm touching under all those blankets and pillows. It was not my intention to lay my hand on your behind -- not that I'm complaining, of course."

"That was an age ago. And it wasn't 'you,' not really. It was Michael and he was someone else entirely.

Now I want you to leave," Raphael growled coldly. "I don't care what you meant. I don't care what you thought you were doing. Leave.

Or I swear to Him I will blind you with my halo."

He felt sick and cold inside but he really didn't think he could stand the demon's presence much longer, not at all.

Much as he would have liked to deny it, Mictain found that Raphael's words stung quite a bit. No, he wasn't Michael. And what about it? It wasn't like he had asked to change. And what change there was had happened because he had wanted to protect Raphael, anyway.

Raphael seemed to be serious about his threat, too. However, Mictain didn't want to leave. It was almost intoxicating to be so close to the healer, to see him, to hear his voice, even if the words were those of coldness and hatred.

So it was Michael he wanted, then? Very well. He could do that.

Closing his eyes briefly in concentration, he erased all marks of his demonic nature. Fangs and claws withdrew, his clothes changed into the ones he'd usually worn as Michael, even his hair turned wavy and lost the crimson streak in it. Very carefully he thought back to being an angel, remembering every line, every hue, every turn and curve and outline of muscle, and modified his current form to change into what it had once been. The changes weren't that big in the end but he wasn't taking any risks, not leaving a single strand of hair unattended, making himself a perfect image of his former self. The only thing he couldn't get back was the angelic aura, which he would have needed to be exactly like Michael, but that was impossible. This was as close as he could get; if it didn't help, he could do nothing.

As he opened his eyes again, looking at Raphael seriously, they were again the heavenly blue colour they had been for over six millennia, not a hint of the bloody red to be seen anywhere.

"I am sorry," he said softly, allowing what little remained of the angel inside him to rise to the surface. "I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. It's just -- I want to see you. Be near you. Make sure you are alright, I guess." He smiled as gently as he could, careful not to let it slip into smirking. "I apologize." The words weren't easy to a demon, he discovered, but his feelings for Raphael -- which, he had to grudgingly admit, were not perhaps purely lust -- helped his tongue to wrap around the difficult word.

"I love you, angel," he said as sincerely as he could, giving Raphael a pleading look. "Please... please don't drive me away. I won't do anything, I won't even say anything if you don't want me to. You'll hardly even notice me. Just let me be near you, and I'll be content."

And, despite his roaring demonic instincts, despite all the lust and need and desire hidden inside him, in his heart -- or what remained of it -- he felt he was telling the truth.

Raphael's eyes widened and he trembled, looking away as the other started to change and it became clear who he was attempting to look like.

"Stop that," he murmured in a faint voice. "Stop that, you're confusing me..." He shoved hiimself backwards until his back pressed against the wall. "Demons are deceivers. They trap you, they look like angels but the aren't, not on the inside..." He had to admit that he sounded terribly uncertain, even to himself.

"You don't love me. You can't. It's not possible," he mumbled, mostly trying to convince himself instead of arguing. "Because if you did..."

He made the mistake of lifting his head and looking into the demon's familiar blue eyes, looking at him with a supplicating gaze.

It was really too much.

He went to him and embraced him, feeling tears slide down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For everything. But I've missed you, I've missed you so much.... and... and I won't drive you away. Not again. Never again. Oh, I should have know, you were always strong, could still cling to that last remnant of Michael. Well I help you, I help you go back and then we can be together again...

Just stay near me forever and it will be enough," he told him, kissing him as he did so.

At first Mictain thought he had failed in the task of convincing Raphael of his good intentions. It hurt, he noticed. To be able to appear Michael-like he'd had to admit the true nature of his feelings for Raphael, to admit that even as a demon, even after Falling for his sake, he simply couldn't stop loving Raphael. His feelings for the healer were as much a part of him as his wings -- white or black, they wouldn't go away.

Then, however, tears rolled down Raphael's cheeks, and he came to embrace him. Mictain returned the embrace only a tad awkwardly, delighted at the feeling of having Raphael in his arms once again. He listened to the angel's words, and his demonic side roared in fury at the thought of redemption, while a small part of his mind practically wept with joy -- the part that loved Raphael.

He smiled down at the smaller creature in what he hoped was a soothing way, ignoring his demonic instincts. He maybe was a demon, and maybe he could never escape that fact, but at least he would do his best to be like the angel Raphael loved. He would do anything if it just brought him nearer to the little healer.

"I will stay," he promised quietly, and meant it. "I will stay until you tell me to go away." And then, he kissed Raphael, his mind lost in the wonder of being able to do so.

If he kept his eyes closed, Raphael realized, and focused on the warmth, he could hold the image of Michael in his mind and nearly force himself to ignore the wrongness of the aura. His body started to relax then was jolted into shudders as his mind continued telling him that it was a demon he was holding while his heart struggled to reject the idea. The kiss he felt returned only made him cry harder.

"What am I supposed to do?" He sobbed. "What do I do about you? You are deceiving me but I want to be taken in..." He squirmed, half to get away and half to get closer. "You want me to tell you when to go? I don't know.

You tell me this time. When do you want to leave?" He wiped his eyes. "Because maybe we should separate and put this behind us. I'm just a silly, stupid, childish little angel. Is there nobody better suited to you? Someone more mature, more physical, more... vicious?

Why don't you want me to go away?"

Mictain listened to Raphael's words quietly. The demon in him agreed with the healer, told him to get a more suitable partner, told that it was simply foolish to pretend to be an angel just in order to be closer to one who truly was that. However, another part of him, the one that had refused to step aside despite Raphael's pleas, the one that was still remaining of the angel, told him the opposite. And, like he knew, while his demon side could be satisfied, this part would never be happy unless he had Raphael.

"Why would I want you to go away?" he asked softly, looking down at the beautiful, beautiful angel. Bringing up a hand he cradled Raphael's face on his palm, smiling slightly. "I love you, Raphael. You may be a silly little angel, but you are my silly little angel. There might be people 'more suited for me', yes, but I don't want them. I only want you."

His voice was now a mere whisper. "I knew the consequences, and I didn't step aside," he said. "If I now didn't stay by you, wouldn't that have been in vain?"

"Yours? You think you own me? Maybe I will tire of you - and what will you do then? Leave obediently? Or come after me?

I do not understand why you want me even when I can't return it with anything of value. And I wonder if you only want me now as something to please yourself with - is that it? Do you think I am owed to you?

Is loyalty the only reason? You're a demon. You could make up for what I did to you by discorporation me. Or raping me. And maybe you'll do that eventually.

But you're so warm..." He sighed and slumped. "You should have just stepped aside. It would be so easy if you had.

And I wouldn't be so afraid to venture further..."

Discorporation. Rape. The demon in him howled in delight at Raphael's words, agreed with him, told that the healer was right and that was exactly what he should do, preferably right then and there. However, the other part refused, was repulsed at even the thought of hurting his precious angel.

"Yes, I am a demon," he replied. "I have no sympathy left for any angel. I loved, exactly what we were supposed to do, and got punished for it. Yes, the demon in me wants you, desires you, wants to hurt and tear and rape you. But I don't. I couldn't, wouldn't, not ever. Because I love you, Raphael."

He hugged the angel against himself, gently petting the shiny red hair. "I don't know what I can say to you," he said quietly. "I don't know what could convince you about the fact that I don't want to hurt you or use you or do anything that might cause you pain and sorrow. You'll have to trust me when I tell you that I love you, like I trusted you when you told me the same, and hope that the pain of betrayal taught me not to betray."

Placing a little kiss on top of Raphael's head, he finished quietly, "I love you, Raphael, more than anything. You should know that by now."

The healer frowned, confused and fearful.

"You say that the demon in you wants to tear me but then you say that you love me. The two cannot coexist. You are the demon also and in that way you do want to hurt me, very much. I don't see how I can depend on reassurances that 'you' will always be in control, whomever you are now or thing you are. I don't even know..."

He trembled, partly out of fright and partly out of bodily thrill at the little pets and kisses. And given how his body was reacting, he wasn't surprised at all to hear himself squeak.

"I regret what I did, but I don't know where I stand..." He uttered desperately.

Mictain held Raphael close, still petting the coppery hair. "You have to decide," he said quietly. "You can decide to trust me and have me stay beside you, or to find me unreliable and be alone again.

"I cannot give you any proof that my only intention isn't to hurt you and betray you in the worst ways imaginable. "I cannot give you back Michael, either -- I may look like him, but I'm not him. You said so yourself. However, what little remains of the angel is inside me, is a part of me despite the fact that yes, I am indeed a demon, the demon that was betrayed and only wants to hurt you. That part I can give to you if you accept it. To have it, however, you have to accept the rest of me as well -- to believe that the demon isn't the only thing in me.

"Demons are known to have loved angels before. Just because I'm a demon doesn't mean I can't love you. However, I cannot prove it any more than I could prove my love when I was an angel -- or any more than I demanded proofs of your supposed love. I trusted you. Now, you decide whether you trust me in turn."

Raphael looked away from Mictain and frowned, caught between fear of the demon and fear of loneliness. At length he sighed and stood up.

"Perhaps you ought to change back to your proper appearance," he said dryly. "That would make this somewhat easier, to reassure me that I'm not entirely deceived. But as for trusting you...

I do not trust in your love, not yet. I do not think I can return it to you. But perhaps... well... there are other things than love. Practical things. Things that work on a, shall we say, mutual basis." He laughed humorlessly. "I do rather miss efforts; but I'm not about to make one and suffer through cold showers.

If you understand me - what do you think?"

He didn't want to put the offer in to so many words - it seemed so vulgar and a far cry from his previously held personal views - but he was confident the demon would understand his meaning. He could not trust; it brought too many echoes of the deception he himself had worked.

But perhaps they could start smaller. Simpler. Associates with benefits, to mangle a phrase.

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