Samandriel stretched his wings before tucking them back into their pocket dimension with a snap that was perhaps louder than it ought’ve been so he could burrow properly against Michael. Heaven doesn’t even know you’re not there. He closed his eyes, banishing Crowley’s words in favor of enjoying Michael’s warmth. All he could do was hope Michael remembered those words when he was himself. Just because Lucifer remained largely unchanged by the dreams didn’t mean that would ring true for Michael as well. His hand spread out gently against the other man’s side. “People don’t often see you like this, do they?” he asked quietly, wanting to think of anything but what might come. There were too many options and it just made his head hurt trying to keep track of all the possibilities.
“No, they don’t.” he said quietly, resting his forehead against the top of Samandriel’s head. “I try to avoid getting close to people. With my condition I’m not always at my best and I don’t really enjoy trying to explain it. The sad looks of pity, how uncomfortable it seems to make them, their misguided attempts to be helpful, none of it is pleasant. Easier to just be polite and aloof when I meet people.” Michael had always been a bit like that though, but it was less intense as he was growing up. “It helps that I’m kind of an asshole too. One and done, that’s what I call it. I don’t have to try to remember names or phone numbers or faces, it’s nice since my short-term memory is always touch and go, and I can ignore it if someone gets offended by my forgetfulness.” He sighed softly, pressing a kiss to that soft hair and the scalp beneath it. “I think that since you’re here again you can gather that you’re special to me.”
Samandriel shifted comfortably against Michael. “I wish I could fix that completely for you,” he said even softer. He lifted his head to look up at him, propped up just a little on one shoulder. “But I’ll do what I safely can for as long as you want me to. And if there’s days that you just want to deal with it, maybe not alone, but...not wanting to forget the pain either, then I’ll be here too.” And Samandriel wasn’t going to pity him or ask him to explain. Most of the things he knew about Michael’s condition happened to be something he could understand without any real effort. If Michael saw color when he heard things, it wasn’t so much different than what Samandriel experienced. He smiled down at Michael. “You’ll have to tell me what you see when I play one of these days. I think we could make something truly beautiful together.” With Michael directing and Samandriel’s Will painting it really could be stunning.
Michael resisted the urge to call him beautiful. He had said it plenty and saying it now was simply too sappy for his taste, even if he did think it anyway. It was hard not to, wings or no Samandriel was incredibly beautiful, but Michael was never really prone to being so sentimental. It didn’t make him uncomfortable, he simply didn’t experience it very often. “You’re very generous with yourself, little angel, I’m very grateful.”
He smiled slowly, nuzzling Samandriel’s cheek, finding it easier to express his feelings with touch rather than words. Words could always fail him but touches had to be done absolutely deliberately making them marginally more reliable. “When you speak baby blue sort of radiates around you and out from you. It changes colors with your tones but mostly shades of blue. Right now it’s a baby blue, a few minutes ago it was an electric, sort of neon blue.”