Saint Michael the Archangel | Dt. Michael Angel (the_sacred_fire) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2010-12-06 13:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | michael, saint anthony |
Who: Michael & Anthony
What: Picking up wreaths, chatting (originally posted by Anthony)
When: Monday evening
Where: Michael's apartment
Anthony hadn't seen Michael since he'd help recover his missing witness a few months ago. And talking on the internet didn't really count, so he was kind of looking forward to this visit. Michael wasn't really chatty, but that was OK. Anthony was still a little jumpy from his Lucifer run-in, seeing Michael would hopefully get him to finally calm down. And help him with a name for his agency, it was kind of getting ridiculous.
Plus, free Christmas decorations. Always a plus.
Reaching the Archangel's apartment, he knocked on the door and waited for it to open, humming to himself a little and bouncing on the balls of his feet. It was probably a side effect of all the coffee.
Michael stood and he went to answer the door, sidestepping wreaths as he went. He let Anthony in, smiling at him as widely as Michael ever really smiled. Michael liked Anthony and he could count on him. "It's nice to see you, Anthony. Would you like some coffee? I made sure I had something nice to offer you." Michael knew the saint liked his coffee.
"Thanks, it's good to see you too, Michael," Anthony replied, stepping inside. He smiled at the offer, everyone seemed to take his addiction in stride. "That'd be great, thank you."
He shrugged out of his coat, surveying the wreaths that seemed to be everywhere. "Wow, you weren't kidding about there being a lot of wreaths here," he said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "And you're right, it does smell like a forest. Makes me want a real Christmas tree, instead of the tiny fake one I have."
"So, how have you been lately?" he asked. "I haven't seen much of you since the case a while back."
Michael moved into the kitchen, which wasn't a great distance from where he was standing, to make the coffee. "Some of the wreaths are Gabriel's. The ones that were sent to me which you can choose from are on the sofa. As for how I've been, I think 'busy' is putting it lightly. Did my little brother pay you a visit too?"
Anthony stiffened momentarily, then forced himself to relax. "Yeah...yeah he did," he said softly, drifting over to the sofa to examine the wreaths.
"All things considered, it could have gone worse," he said, in a voice of forced calm. "At least it was just chatting and a lot of creepiness, he didn't actually attack me." He was careful not to look at Michael as he was speaking, staring instead at the wreaths in his hands like they were the most interesting things in the world.
Picking out about four that he liked, he held them up and said, "These'll work for me, I think. If you have a plastic bag I could put them in, that'd be awesome. I can't believe I forgot to bring one." He knew he was talking too much, going on and on because Lucifer's visit was still a sore spot and talking about it felt like a punch in the gut.
Michael went to get a back while the coffee maker made it's bubbling sound. "Lucifer tends to attack with words before he tries anything else. It's attacking, his way. I hope he didn't say anything too harsh? Here, bag." Michael held the plastic bag out to the saint and he smiled again.
"Yeah, I noticed," Anthony said darkly. "And that depends entirely on what your definition of 'harsh' is, he really knows how to cut to the quick how to...how to find every single weak spot and poke at them all at once."
He sighed, raking a hand through his short hair. "He brought up my death," he said quietly. "My death, and the fact that I 'couldn't even get it right', as he put it. I had hoped to be a martyr, you know, but obviously God had other plans, and I made peace with that a long time ago. Or I thought I did. The doubts he brought up, Michael, it was just scary. He knew all of them, even the ones I'd never told anyone about. He made me feel like the nerdy kid in the cafeteria, the one who gets overlooked. And I know that's not the case, but right in that moment, I felt so insignificant." He paused for breath. "I just...never want to feel that way again."
Michael didn't often show empathy. He was an angel and he didn't quite have that bit of humanity in him where he could understand how it felt to never be free of emotions. While Gabriel understood them a little more, Michael felt mostly removed from them. And still he walked forward and he laid a hand on Anthony's shoulder.
"Martyr or not, Anthony, you are every bit a saint as the rest. You are not insignificant to myself or to Him."
Anthony felt the knot in his chest loosen. To hear Michael say that, and to know that he meant it, made his heart feel lighter than it had in days. "Thanks, Michael," he said quietly. "That actually means more to me than you'll probably ever know."
He cleared his throat, trying for a smile. "Augh, I'm being maudlin, aren't I? I'm sure we could find better things to talk about than my issues." He cast his mind around for a suitable topic. "Oh! Whatever happened to the witness? Was he alright when you found him?"
"You're allowed to be maudlin," Michael assured him, and then he moved back to the kitchen to fetch Anthony his coffee. He poured the saint a cup and then carried it over to Anthony. "Here you are. Milk and sugar are just in there if you take them. As for the witness, he was just fine, thanks to you."
"I try not to be that way too often," Anthony replied. "Oooh, coffee, thank you!" He took the steaming mug over to where Michael had indicated, and added a bit of sugar, stirred it, then sipped. Delicious.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said, smiling. "Oh, and I don't know if I told you, but my agency is up and running, so if you ever need to refer something my way, don't hesitate. And I have no idea what to call it, so any help on that front would be appreciated."
Michael wasn't really known for his creativity. He gave Anthony a look ash he tried to think of something, and then gave up rather quickly. "I am not good at naming things. But I am glad to hear everything went well and your agency is ready for business. I have no doubt I will have need of your services. You have given me great assistance in the past. What else have you been up to, Anthony?" he asked, trying to sound a little less rigid.
It was living with Saint Patrick which had done that to him.
Anthony couldn't help but laugh at the look on Michael's face. "That's OK, I just thought I'd ask. I'm sure I'll figure something out eventually."
"You mean aside from Lucifer's visit and hanging out my shingle?" Anthony asked wryly. "Not much. Sleeping when I can. Agatha came by the other day with cheesecake, and we talked for a while. And you?"
Michael had been busy, but he liked to downplay that as much as he could. "I am doing what I can to help Saint Patrick. I worry for him now that he has gone home." Michael didn't often let people in on what emotions he did experience. But he trusted Anthony.
Anthony sat up a little straighter at that. "Worried? Why?" For Michael to express that at all meant something important had either happened, or was going to happen.
"You know if you ever need my assistance in anything, all you need to do is ask," he said.
Michael nodded, showing he knew. "I just worry that he will be attacked by Alcohol, or drink too much and hurt himself." Michael didn't know if they realised how much he cared about them all.
"I've never met Alcohol, thank God, but it sounds like I don't really want to. As for Patrick, with you looking out for him, I'm sure he'll be alright. And he has his brothers, and the rest of the Saints and angels, all of whom would rush to help him if need be."
"This is not to say that worrying isn't prudent," he went on. "But I have faith in him, and you, that everything will get sorted out."
"I have faith in him as well, but I will continue to worry. As I do for all of you." Michael smiled a little as he said it. He was fond of his fellow saints, in as much as he could be.
Anthony had the urge to say something about a mother hen, but he held his tongue. Michael's concern was touching, not something to be joked about. "I can't speak for anyone else, but I appreciate it," he said, smiling a little back. It's always good to know someone's looking out for you."