The Archangel Michael (viceroyofheaven) wrote in brightlightlogs, @ 2010-01-28 13:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | andrea morgan, michael |
Who; Michael & Andy
What; She has an idea, he's a stubborn asshole clearly there's only one way to handle the situation
Where; Some motel
When; After this
Rating; A for Adult and ELOW for Epic Levels of Wrong
Status; Complete
Between Andy, the Winchesters, and the angels on their side, they'd managed to fill in a notebook and a half with everything they could possibly think of that might be helpful: sigils and energy drains, and even old Latin incantations that had long since been forgotten by humanity. Andy had then spent two days culling it down into something more manageable, and then, into something resembling A Plan. A plan that would take all of them, Michael (the bastard) included. But he'd seemed receptive to an alternate idea, which is why Andy continued with it, drawing it out and spending more hours than she could count making sure the logic was sound. Casa de Awesome would have been the perfect place for a meeting -- it was private -- except for one key factor: nobody wanted Michael to know where Dean was. Diners and bars were too public, which was why Andy booked herself a room in one of the cheaper motels on the strip, left a message on the networks for the archangel, and settled in to wait, going over the notes one final time. When he had said he was receptive to another idea, another plan other than to use Dean Winchester to destroy Lucifer he hadn't been entirely lying. Though of course he hadn't been entirely truthful either. Using Dean still remained his number one plan and most likely would, large in part to the fact he was almost certain Andrea would not be able to follow through in her promise of an alternate plan. But then she called him out on the network saying she had found one. Michael agreed to meet her, still not anywhere close to certain her plan would be sound. Humans tended to get a little desperate for other plans when those they cared about were on the line. He appeared by the motel she had indicated and walked up to the door. He still wasn't sure what he would do had she by some large miracle managed to find another plan. He was fairly certain she wasn't stupid enough to show up without telling someone else her plan, so killing her if he didn't approve was a little out of the question. Others would still know. He mulled the choices left to him as he raised his hand to knock. She'd been sprawled out on her belly on the bed, bare feet swinging back and forth over her head, when the knock sounded on the door. She dropped the pen she'd been chewing on, slapped the notebook closed, and rolled off of the gaudy duvet, getting to her feet and crossing to the door to pull it open. Michael ... was not what she expected, and she found herself raising a brow, almost as if to say 'this is supposed to be impressive?' Still, a moment later, she stepped back, holding the door wide for him to come in. He noticed the raised brow and shook his head slightly as he walked in. "I could rattle some doors and windows if it helps," he offered with a smirk. He hated being stuck in these human bodies, so mundane. It felt claustrophobic and restrictive. His entire being longed to burst out of the body. Even more so around Andrea, the attitude she'd shown on the network oozed off her very being even more so in person, it was suffocating and rubbed him in the worst way. He stepped past her into the room and glanced around at the horrid decor. He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to look at her. "So, your idea?" he prompted her, the sooner she offered it the sooner he could shoot it down and get out of there. "Shake away, buddy. You ain't the first, you won't be the last," Andy returned, shaking her head as she kicked the door shut. "What's your rush? You ain't got anything better to do," she pointed out, stepping around him -- and if her shoulder hit his, just what was he gonna do about it? -- to reach for the book she'd left on the bed. She flipped it open, flicking past pages upon pages of notes and scribbles, and notes about her notes and scribbles, to here she'd outlined The Plan. It was a simple plan, sure, but the logic was sound. She skimmed over it quickly, making sure it was right, before handing the book over. He visibly stiffened as she went past him and bumped his shoulder and had to momentarily chide himself for the action. There was no reason for the reaction, no reason for her to be getting to him in that way. He stood still as she flipped through her book and took a few steps towards her when she offered it to him. The Archangel was quiet as he read the plan over, his face blank. It had potential, surprisingly enough, but potential wasn't good enough. Not when it was Lucifer, not when so much hinged on the outcome. He closed the book and offered it back to her. "No," was all he said. Andy wasn't exactly surprised, but she'd been expecting more than flat-out refusal. Maybe some gloating about how nothing could ever be as good as what Michael wanted to do. He seemed the type for that. She didn't reach for the notebook, instead gaping at him. "No? Just no? That's it?" He continued to hold the book out to her as she spoke. "Yes, just no," he restated. "It's not good enough," he told her. "This isn't just some hunt Andrea, this is Lucifer, and your plan is not good enough." "Oh yeah? And why's that? Because you and everyone else has this raging fucking hard-on for Dean fucking Winchester?" She could feel the slow burn of anger in her belly, brought on from too little sleep and too much worry. In her time, she'd have been happy to hand Dean over. The Dean she'd known was a right bastard through and through; here, he was her best friend's husband, he had children on the way, and she actually liked him as a person, not just someone to have at her back on a job. They were two completely different people, and this Dean? Had her loyalty. "Lemme break it down for you, pal, and I'll use small words so you get it. You ain't getting him. So you might as well just suck it the goddamn hell up, deal with it, and start working with us. 'cause ain't a single one of us likes being backed into a corner." "Because it is the only way," he snapped at her and tossed the notebook back onto the bed. It was so irritating, their inability to see reason. "And as far as you and your friends not liking being backed into a corner I could care less, this is not about what you do or do not like. This is about destroying Lucifer." He gave her a pointed look, "Dean is the only way to end this, and he will say yes and there is nothing you can do to stop it." "No, this is about fixing your fuck up," she fired back at him, glaring as she stepped closer. It didn't even occur to her that she was about two seconds from being on the wrong end of an angelic smackdown when she jabbed her finger into his chest for emphasis. "You --" jab "-- fucked up and didn't finish him the first time. You --" jab "-- left all these nifty little locks that the demons were just dyin' to pick. This is your --" jab "-- mess and I'll be damned if I'm lettin' you destroy a whole family 'cause you're a self-righteous bastard." Irritating. Like a over assured and indignant fly that he longed to swat. As she moved to jab her finger into his chest once more at the end of her speech he grabbed her hand in a tight grip. By all accounts he should smite here where she stood. "You," he started, matching her tone almost perfectly, "understand nothing. And you never will. You couldn't possibly understand." He pulled her closer to him by the hand he still gripped tight and stared down at her. "I would suggest you remember to who you are speaking." Pulling her closer only served one purpose: to piss her off. She yanked her hand free in one sharp motion and, before she could stop herself, drew back a fist and swung. It was a good punch, aimed right at his jaw. Her uncle would have been proud. "Oh yeah? You think we don't understand failure?" It was the surprise at her actions more than anything that let her land the punch and while it of course did little to physically damage him he reached a hand to touch his jaw anyways, shocked by her actions. The moment he fully realized that she had just hit him he flung her back against the wall with a thought. Perhaps an over reaction, but she had the nerve to him and that combined with the way she managed to get under his skin so to say was a bad combination. "No, not this kind of failure," he pointed out and moved towards her again. "You cannot possibly tell me that one man's life is worth more than the billions that will be lost under Lucifer's reign." "One I know, hypothetical billions I don't? Damn right," Andy spat out as she regained her footing. Getting thrown at walls was never fun, but at least he had the decency not to pin her there. The thought of just how much of a disadvantage she was at only made her angrier, more reckless, and before she coudl think it through, she was throwing herself at him. Her weight hit him low, right across the thighs, and they went tumbling to the floor. Andy was quick, though, scrambling for the advantage. It was easy enough for him to take the advantage she seemed so determined to win. He hooked his legs around hers and rolled them so she was below him and pinned her arms to the ground with his hands above her head. "And you honestly think you believe that matters in the end? I could care less what you think about the situation, it doesn't change a thing." Pinned to the floor, there was little she could do save struggle in vain; she opted to conserve her energy, glaring up at him from the mess of hair in her eyes. "Really? Then why are you still here?" Her question threw him and he honestly did not have an answer. It was a rare occurrence, to be without a reason for something. He didn't much like it. His hesitation didn't change his grip though, nor did it force him from his spot. "I don't know," he finally admitted. She was silent for a long moment, stamping down the instinctive jokes that such a position usually warranted. What she finally said was a quiet, "You don't want to kill him any more than we want you to." Maybe she was right, maybe he didn't want to see Dean destroyed. If he were to be truly honest he was just as afloat as his wayward brother Castiel. But of course he would not admit to that. He let go his grip of her hands and rolled off of her, getting to his feet. Once standing he looked down at her. "It is not your place to tell me what I do and do not want," he said coldly. "Oh, Mikey, you were doin' so good," Andy mused, more to herself than the glowering archangel. She propped herself up on an elbow, and the wry grin she wore said a lot of things, none of them good. "See, you wanna know what I think, Mikey? I think you've got a guilt complex about three states wide. I think you can't stand the whole idea of us bein' more than meatsuits for you to ride around in. And I think you need to learn a healthy respect for humanity." Her final words were punctuated with a swift kick at his leg, meant to bring him down again. He hadn't quite gone far enough to get out of range. He watched the wry grin spread across her lips and it was more than a little unsettling. He wasn't entirely sure how he ended up in this situation but he wasn't also entirely sure how to remove himself from it either. It was a testament to just how unhinged she was making him when her kick brought him down again, albeit a little more graceful than most would be. His hands instinctively shot down to break the fall, leaving him in much the same position as before. "I owe you nothing," he reminded her with a harsh look from his spot above her. The difference was, this time, her hands weren't trapped, and her legs were in a far better position. She was still grinning as she looped her legs around his hips, shoving him off of her and rolling with him, until she was on top. "You want Dean, you better learn a little about humanity. This arrogant shit? Ain't gonna win you any points, bud. And that's the only way in with any of 'em." If he refused to listen to reason, maybe she could buy the Winchesters a little bit of time to figure out something better by appealing to logic. He was arrogant? She was the one speaking to him as though he was nothing more than the mere mortal shell he walked around in. Who insisted on reducing their exchange to nothing more than harsh words flung back and forth and a glorified wrestling match. If this was the humanity Castiel was so desperate to stand beside it could go fuck itself as they were so fond of saying. "Who said I was trying to win points?" he pointed out. "I do not need Dean to like me in order to bow to me." "And that's exactly why he'll never say yes to you. You don't get anythin' done by threatening the Winchesters. Or their family. It just makes 'em even more stubborn." She could have moved, really, but at the moment, she was enjoying the advantage, of making him listen, though she held no illusions that he couldn't have forced her off if he wanted to. He knew he should be throwing her off of him, the situation if nothing else was more than a little in appropriate but he made no move to do so. "Dean was fool enough to sell his soul for his brother, you say it'll only make him more stubborn but I tend to disagree, he will break soon enough." There was an even edge to his voice, an almost unsettling certainty to his words. He'd been around long enough, seen more than enough to know sometimes one couldn't play fair. "Yeah, well, you're wrong. All you're gonna do is piss 'em off, and if that's your master plan, well, you're screwed, buddy. You just don't get it, do you?" She rocked back a little, making herself more comfortable, though she didn't move to let him up, not yet. "Your whole plan hinges on threatenin' 'em 'til they cave. Which they won't. Your whole idea to kill the devil? Means doin' worse to him than any demon does to the bodies they ride. You ain't gonna kill him. You're gonna turn him into a burden. You're gonna use him up, spit him out. Which is worse." Of course he knew that, he knew what he was asking for. But it didn't matter. Not in the long run. "Sacrifices must be made for the greater good," he told her as he flipped them again so he could get to his feet. "Easy for you to say when it's not you bein' sacrificed, isn't it?" Andy shook her head, biting back a sigh. It had been pointless, trying to reason with him, and she climbed to her feet, rubbing a hand across the back of her head where she'd hit it, being flipped like that. "You're an ass. And even if you get him, you're still gonna be an ass." He turned on her at her words and as his anger took hold again he flung her against the wall, pinning her there. Michael stalked towards her the indignation of her words grating on him. "You have no idea," he all but shouted, pressing his hand against the wall on either side of her. "You couldn't even comprehend." "Then explain it to me," she found herself shouting back, fisting her hands in his shirt so that he couldn't just simply walk away. "You'd better start treatin' us as allies instead of your goddamn pawns, or you can go fuck yourself, and we'll fix your fuckin' mess." He released the mental hold on her but his hands had moved to grab her upper arms roughly keeping her pinned to the wall, her feet barely grazing the ground. It was wrong, he was too close, dangerously close to losing the little control of the situation he still had. He had let her gain too much leverage, her hand fisted against his shirt, her words ringing in his ears. He felt pulled in too many directions at once, many of which he was shamed to the core to even be considering. "No," he said firmly though it was almost difficult to determine if he spoke it more to her or himself. Andy's biggest flaw had always been that she didn't know when to stand down. By then, almost anyone else would have thrown their hands up, said 'forget it' and gotten as far out of Dodge as fast as their feet could carry them. She'd also never had the best instincts when it came to who she found attractive, and goddamn it all to hell, right then, with her back to the wall and the knowledge that if he chose to, he could snuff her out without lifting a finger? Made him incredibly attractive. Later, she'd probably blame exhaustion and frustration for why her fingers tightened in his shirt, and why she pulled him to her -- or maybe herself to him, it was all kind of fuzzy -- and sealed her mouth to his. She'd claim it was the easiest way to get him to shut up for five freaking minutes with the holier-than-thou shit. But it'd be a lie. He wasn't quite sure how things had taken this turn, her lips pressed to his and for a moment he didn't even react; at war with himself the large part of him that knew this was entirely wrong and that he needed to walk away right then and there, and the smaller part that was so desperate for an outlet for the doubt and frustration. It was wrong, he knew that, but that small part won out and he pushed her harder against the wall, molding his body to hers as he kissed her back. The sound she made was part surprise, part pain, and all excitement. The fact that he'd kissed her back was a shock, but not an unwelcome one, and she barely had time to think I'm so going to Hell for this one before she was pushing back, just getting enough distance that she could use the wall behind her for leverage enough to pull herself up and wrap her legs around his waist. It gave her the advantage of height (because she hated feeling short) and the ability to press herself more firmly against him (because she liked to tease). It was wrong, very, very wrong and the fact that he didn't make a move to end the situation was even worse. The myth that they were sexless beings incapable of things like desire was just that, a myth. Especially when in a human vessel. There was only so much they could block out. Especially as she pushed back and wrapped her legs around him. He reached a hand up to her face, fingers pressed hard into her jawline as he pulled back for a moment. "If I had known this is what it would take to get you to be quiet for a minute," he half muttered and let his hand slid behind her neck to pull her to him again. He pressed his lips to hers once more, trying to ignore the voice that screamed at him to stop. He tried to ignore everything really. It was so ridiculous, so insane that Andy couldn't stop the bubble of laughter, and when she broke the kiss again a minute later -- this time, so that she could lean back just enough to free him of his jacket and shirt (which was more complicated than it should have been, given their position, but still ultimately doable) -- she replied with a wry, "Funny, coulda' said the same thing about you." When she leaned back in, it was to lay teeth to his neck, and she rocked her hips against his, teasing, and also making a point. Either they needed to make their way to the bed, or he was going to have to force her off of him to even out the playing field. It would be so easy to give into his want for her, to turn the anger he felt at her into something else entirely. And he wanted to, he wanted to let it push away all the guilt and doubt he felt then, all the frustration. Her teeth against the skin of his neck didn't do must to dissuade the thoughts, but it sure did a lot to lessen the voice in his head screaming that this was wrong. He kept a hand behind her head, tangled in her hair and his other in a firm grasp around her backside as he moved them toward the bed. He sank to sit on it as his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he pulled her down with him, keeping her close and managing to not break their embrace. He only pulled away to tug her shirt off over her head, letting it fall somewhere behind her on the floor. Andy couldn't help but shiver, partially because of the chill in the air, but mostly because of him. The whole thing was wrong on so many levels, but with the bed beneath them, she finally told the voice in her head to go fuck itself. She managed to extract herself from his grasp and slid down his thighs, just enough that she could work her hands between them to rake her nails across the zipper before she deftly undid the fly on his jeans. A sharp tug yanked the jeans and boxers down, and she grinned wryly, wrapping her fingers around him. Control? She definitely had it in spades, right then. A low moan escaped his mouth as she wrapped her fingers around him and though it wasn't required for obvious reasons he had to remind himself to breathe. He slid a hand around to palm at her breast as he trailed his lips down the side of her neck. Her hand around him was definitely helping with the not thinking policy and he slid the straps of her bra down her shoulders and reached behind to undo the clasp, tossing the garment somewhere by her shirt. In one swift move he managed to move them further onto the bed, her body under his. If she wanted control of this situation she was going to have to fight for it, control over her was all he had in that moment and he'd be damned (even more than he was at least) if he was about to give that up. He was so far past the point of being able to turn back, not with his mouth over her body, not when the way she felt below him offered such a tempting distraction from everything. He knew it was more than a sin to give into that, but at the moment it was hard to find reason to care. |