If Michael didn’t generally feel like an asshole before he certainly felt like one now. He didn’t understand it, he would be the first to admit it, but are far as he was concerned he hadn’t been there. He hadn’t seen how things had happened, how Lucifer had fallen and what it had done to heaven or Samandriel or even the archangel in the image he wore around his neck. The golden medal depicted Guido Reni’s Michael, the archangel standing on Lucifer with his sword drawn, and it almost burned against his skin when he considered how it must have made the angel feel.
Seeing him so saddened made him physically hurt, his chest tightening as he pushed himself to sit up. Samandriel might have expected to see scorn written over his features but in all reality Michael was sympathetic. He put a hand on the angel’s shoulder and when he didn’t move away he placed a kiss on the other. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to- I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic schools, I still go to mass sometimes, and in all of that Lucifer was never depicted in a positive light, I’m sure you know what. It’s hard to consider that all of that is wrong when it’s been in every aspect of your life for over thirty years. But if you’re right about him being different, and if you love him as much as you seem to then no one has any right to say anything against him. Especially not me.”
With this thing on my chest and the name I have. He left that unsaid, it seemed unnecessary to say it. He did reach up and fiddle with the medal for a moment. “I… I can get rid of this if it bothers you.”
That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting from Michael. It was beyond strange to have a reaction out of an archangel, out of that particular archangel (no matter that he had no idea yet,) that wasn’t completely absolute. There was no doubt in Samandriel’s mind that when his brother began to dream, to remember, that he’d remember this conversation. And maybe then he’d take hell for it or get shouted at that Michael loved Lucifer too, but that he was just following orders or something similar. Doing his duty. Being a good son. Samandriel would cross that bridge when he got to it.
Now, however, he reached back and threaded his fingers through Michael’s hair trying to make it clear through touch alone that he wasn’t upset at Michael. Perhaps his brother would remember that and understand further when there was more to be said between them on the matter. He didn’t blame Michael. He never had. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. That he’d been offered a kiss felt like he was allowed to give one in return. So he kissed the man behind him, shifting to lean against him so he could manage it properly. “It’s important to you,” he said simply. “Keep it. I’m well used to seeing it and I won’t make you change or sacrifice any part of yourself for my comfort.”
At least Michael could clearly see that Samandriel loved him, though he wondered if the man could see that he was important to the angel too. “Thank you,” he whispered, brushing his nose against the other man’s.”For being willing to listen.”
The smile he gave the angel was weak but it showed that he at least wanted to bring the mood back. He didn’t want to see Samandriel so saddened for any reason ever again. “I may not be able to remember this later, but I am always willing to listen to you. And if I do I wouldn’t tell anyone about what you are or what you’ve told me, no one would ever believe me anyway.” perhaps that was why, at least in his mind, that Samandriel was so willing to share with him. With his injuries Michael’s hold on reality was tenuous even on his best days, if he ever claimed to see angels it would be easy to write it off on the fact that his brain tended to resemble scrambled eggs.
“I’m happy that you have someone who makes you happy,” he touched his forehead to his then stole a quick kiss. “You deserve to be happy. And I was right before, you wouldn’t love someone who was in reality so terrible.” Michael didn’t think of himself as terrible, he had simply done what he had been told to over the course of his life, but he didn’t place himself into that group of people Samandriel loved. He almost felt as if he were too broken for that sort of love.