Adam & Michael (iamagoodson) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-03-20 22:06:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ana lucia cortez, michael |
Who: Ana Lucia & Michael
What: Valentine’s Day Pub Crawl
When: 2/14
Where: A particularly crowded pub
Rating: Lowish
Status: Complete
It wasn’t a date. That was supposed to be the point. They were both single, both didn’t want to be alone sitting at home, or worse out at some bar by themselves taking part in the orgy of bad decisions and over-priced alcohol. So why was he a little nervous to see her? Why had he taken a little extra care of his appearance? They had gone to mass together, now they worked together and saw each other every day that Michael was fit enough to work. It should have been nothing out of the ordinary, and yet he had a few butterflies in his stomach.
It hardly fit with who he was supposed to be, or who all the angels had told him he was supposed to be. And she apparently wanted to hear about his future dreams, which didn’t help whatever little nerves he was feeling. How was he going to tell her without coming off as completely insane? She had to know about his injuries, he was generally pretty forthcoming and he believed he had seen her observing one or two of the cognitive tests he had to undergo every morning when he came in. Him claiming to be an incarnation of Saint Michael the archangel probably would only remind her that there was something seriously wrong with him and he didn’t want that.
He wanted Ana only thinking the very best of him.
Michael had arrived first and decided to attempt to settle himself with a small glass of ginger ale that he knocked back surprisingly quickly as he leaned against the bar. It might not have done him much good, but it kept his mind occupied. Of course just when he thought he had calmed he spotted Ana and it call came back, he waved to her from across the room and pushed himself to stand up straighter. Any nerves he might have been feeling thankfully didn’t show in his easy smile when she joined him. “Hey.”
"It's not a date," Ana Lucia mumbled to herself as he walked through the parking lot towards the bar; she was hastily reminding herself so she would stop stealing last minute glances of her reflection in the cars as she passed by. When had she suddenly started fretting over whether her dark, wavy hair was fuzzy or flyaway? And why had it become like "What Not To Wear" that now it felt like none of her clothes seemed decent enough? Sure it'd been well over a year and change since she'd had a date, but so what? This was not a date. Just two co-workers, two friends getting together for drinks and the most action packed non-romantic movie they could find on the marquee.
Entering the bar she noted it was already pretty crowded; seemed half of the singles in Orange County had heard about the Singles Awareness Day pub crawl and specials the bar was hosting. She almost missed seeing Michael across the room, waving to her. Ana felt her insides tighten a little. Was that nerves? She tried to brush it off, but Michael's handsome, boyish face was smiling at her. Get a grip, you're a grown woman, not in high school. she chided herself. She made her way over to him, ignoring a few casual interested glances in her general direction as she wove through the crowd.
"Hey," she said with a bright smile. "You clean up good...for an officer." She had to tease him. It was part of their daily banter. She waved the bartender down and ordered herself a Corona. Leaning against the bar next to Michael she glanced about and then said wryly, "I think everybody got the memo."
“Well,” he smirked, happy that she had followed up her compliment with a light ribbing. It might have made him appear too smug if he so quickly and happily accepted her praise on his looks. Better to play it off with a little bit of humor. “They had special courses at Annapolis on dress and deportment. I, of course, was at the top of the class thanks to my classic good looks. I’m not sure what they teach you grunts in your basic training, but I think you missed the lessons on how to look like the average enlisted.”
Saying she looked nice would have been easier, much more direct, and normally that would have been Michael’s prefered method. Ana was a fellow vet and now they were working together, it made her different from most he had ever attempted to go out with. Not that this was at all a date, of course. It was just easier for him to treat her in a way similar to the other vets he knew. And as much as Dean Winchester made those pouty faces at him and tried to get him going, Ana was far more pleasant to speak to.
“Looks like it.” he agreed as he glanced about the bar, green eyes eventually returning to her. “You’d think there was some kind of social stigma attached to being single on this day in particular.” He ordered a Corona as well. He tended to prefer it to most beers, though normally he would have started with something stronger, but he did want to be able to be upright by the end of the evening. “Who would have thought, huh?”
Ana Lucia laughed at the roundabout compliment. It was clever, and she liked that. “Thanks,” and just to joke further she added with an obvious faux uncertainty, “I think.” It was nice to hang out with Michael outside of work. Generally everyone was too tired to want to see the same 9 to 5 faces for any further stretch of time, but Ana and Michael had gotten to know each other before working together, and both being veterans of the same war only added the whole unspoken bond thing to the mix. Ana was intimidated by his length of service, however, though she’d never admit it to him. Or anyone. A twelve month stint in Iraq as a ‘civilian soldier’ in the National Guard versus a Marine officer with nearly seven years under his belt seemed paltry in comparison. She respected him greatly for what he’d gone through, and knew the testing they held him up with daily was part of his sacrifice. She knew some of the details of his injuries as it came up in conversation as they swapped war stories, but she never prodded for further information.
“They’re missing a marketing opportunity,” Ana grinned back, playing off of his light sarcasm. “Well, except for the bars. They know what the hell they’re doing.” She raised her bottle to toast against his, “To being single, and telling this dumbass holiday to go screw itself.” She took a decent pull from the bottle before speaking again. “You hungry? Maybe we can find a booth or something. I hate standing and eating.” This bar had no stools at the counter, similar to ones she’d been to in Manhattan. Discouraged barflys.
She wanted to sit not just to eat, but she wanted to hear about Michael’s dreams, and preferred not to have a slew of people around them that could overhear. So far she still hadn’t had any of her own dreams, and was growing increasingly frustrated. Should she be jealous or relieved? Did that mean she had surrounded herself with crazies, or was she the one crazy for not having any parallel universe dreams?
“Amen, I’ll drink to that.” he grinned completing the toast and took a long swig before nodding at her suggestion. Food was a good idea, it would soak up enough alcohol to keep him upright and lessen the interactions with his meds for a while. Thankfully he had Samandriel ‘heal’ him before the teenage angel ran off to school that morning, so aside from also neutralizing most of the medications that would have not done him any favors mixed with alcohol, it kept his headaches at bay.
It did nothing for his chromesthesia though. There were still a multitude of colors and shapes coming at him thanks to the crowded bar being big on noise. He was still adjusting to it, trying to tune it all out save the emerald green of Ana’s voice. He liked to think he was doing well but her suggestion of a booth would only help him to see her color above the noise so he was more than happy to agree.
“Sounds good.” He nodded in the direction of a free both, allowing her to lead them as it was the polite thing to do. “I’m just impressed they had an empty table, tonight of all nights.”
Ana sat down in the booth that was tucked away in a quieter corner of the bar. Well as quiet as it could be on a night like tonight. A waitress seemingly materialized with a bright smile and pad at the ready. "Hi there. You guys need a food menu?" Ana nodded and once they were brought menus her stomach started growling. Everything looked good at this point.
"What're you thinkin' of getting?" Ana asked, her New York accent showing itself in the question. It wasn't heavy, but enough to distinguish her from the locals. She stole a glance at Michael as he looked at the menu, studying him for a moment. His dark hair and green eyes made quite the fascinating contrast. She rarely got the chance just to look at him; at work everyone was busy with clients and whatnot. Lunch was the only other time and that was usually in little clusters that would deploy to the variety of eateries near the building.
Michael was trying very hard not to focus on the shapes and beautiful green colors of her voice. He had seen them before of course, they spoke rather frequently at work but they were different now, or more likely he didn’t have anything more pressing on his mind than enjoying the visuals. They were warm and friendly and so very inviting, even with the accent that occasionally turned soft curves into sharp points. More than once he had to wonder if his perception of her created the images or it was merely her coming through her voice. Either way he was very much enjoying listening to her speak.
He was very happy he was not a man given to blushing because he knew he would have when he looked up to find her eyes on him, looking at him like that. “Uh,” Words, Michael swore he remembered how to use them even as he smiled to her. “I’ve heard the pork tenderloin is great here. I might try that.”
"Hm, " she mused with mild curiosity, looking back down at the menu, brown eyes scanning the choices one more time. After a moment she set it down, decision made. "Think I'll try their house burger. They put the cheese in the middle of the patty. Sounds good." A part of her wanted the lamb chops but rarely had she found a bar here that did them good enough to her satisfaction.
The waitress returned and Ana gave her order, adding another beer. It was half off, why not? She might switch it up to a specialty drink later.
She settled back in the booth and sighed. "Thank goodness it's Friday." Work had kept them on their toes this week, and the paperwork didn't help anything.
Michael watched her when she looked back at the menu. He had watched her plenty at work, not that he would have admitted to it of course, and generally he didn’t know or remember that he had done it. But it was usually from afar, closer allowed him gain a better appreciation for her beauty. And she was certainly beautiful, it helped that he wasn’t wholly sure that, were they really to fight, that he would win. Something about her strength was undeniably attractive. “Yeah, it was a long week.”
Goodness. Thank goodness not thank God. It made him smirk a little. Perhaps, after learning what he had about himself and his dreams he was a little more sensitive to God and related topics. He had stopped wearing his medal and had stopped going to mass in his efforts to wrap his mind around it all, and now he was seeing God in places where he wouldn’t normally look. “So, uh, I guess I ought to tell you what I’m apparently going to dream about. I think you’ll either think I’m insane or you’ll get a kick out of it. Good ammunition for teasing later in any case, if you’re sure you want to know.”
She had to stop staring at those green eyes. They were just so...wow. Ana didn't know why tonight of all times she was noticing this stuff. Well, maybe she did but hadn't they already told the holiday to go take a hike? She briefly mused that perhaps she had noticed the whole time but had been too busy with the tasks at hand at work to let it register. She was intense with staying on point when it came to her work.
She smirked at him over the beer bottle near her lips, about to take a sip. "Material for teasing? I'd never." She grinned before sipping, knowing too well the ribbing between them was practically ritual at this point. Setting the bottle down she looked at him with a more serious expression. "Yeah I'd like to know. So long as you're okay with sharing." She didn't want him to feel obligated just because she had asked about them when they were texting.
“Oh, I think the more I say it outloud the more comfortable I get with the whole thing.” He had tried living in denial about it all for a few days, until he got into it with Dean. His former master gunnery sergeant had told him to essentially suck it up and talk to the other angels, something the man only got away with because they had spent the last few years of their tours saving each others lives. But he had been right, after Gabriel had dropped the bomb on him it had helped to discuss it with Lucifer and Samandriel. He hoped being as open with it as he could now would help even more, after all they had seemed to know before he did, it would be nice to see if her reaction was similar to his own.
“Okay, so,” he rubbed the back of his neck, a little smirk on his lips. “You know how I used to wear a St Michael medal, but I’ve not worn it in like a week or so? Well, there’s a reason for that. I met an angel playing the violin at a piano bar not long after I moved here. And that’s not an exaggeration on my part, he’s literally an angel. I’ve seen the wings and have seen some of his angelic power first hand. Around the same time I meet one of his brothers that admits to me that he’s an archangel,” Michael sighed knowing how insane it sounded but continued on inspite of knowing that it was only going to get worse. “And not just any archangel either, he’s St Gabriel. I was admittedly floored, but not as shocked as when he told me that I was going to have dreams about being St Michael. According to them, I’m St Michael the archangel.”
Ana’s eyebrows went up and her eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief. She had noticed he’d stopped wearing the medal, which she had meant to ask him about. And while she wasn’t the regular church going type, she had kind of wanted to go to Mass with him again at some point, but again had never gotten around to it.
“You...you’re...Saint Michael the Archangel?” just sounding dubious made her suddenly feel as if God would strike her with lightning at any given moment. “ ‘Defend us in battle; be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.’ etcetera Saint Michael? The guy who stabs Satan in the back with a spear?”
Her brow furrowed as she sat back, studying him, trying to sort this out. “I know this place has superhero types, and people with powers, and Jedi’s but religious icons? That’s a whole new level of intense.” She really couldn’t rule it out though, could she? Looking back into his face she knew that he probably didn’t want her to think he was crazy and just up and leave, and she wasn’t about to. But at the same time, it sounded about as crazy as it got. Like homeless men wandering around talking to themselves crazy.
She grabbed her beer and took a sip as if it’d somehow help. Then she softly smirked at him. “You can’t be him. He’s blonde!” And the expression grew into a well meaning smile, teasing.
Michael lost what he was going to say for a moment when she made the blonde comment and all he could do was laugh. He hadn’t even thought of that. And thinking on it now she certainly had a point, not only about him but about the other angels he met. Samandriel looked the part of a cherub at least, but Gabriel, being as short as he was with brown hair and eyes, he didn’t match his pictures. Lucifer was probably the biggest departure from the way he was supposed to look, a tall, attractive, well dressed blonde man in his late forties. No forked tongue or horns or a tail. His color was even white in Michael’s perception. He looked more angelic than Michael certainly did with his average height and dark hair.
“I know, it’s utterly insane isn’t it? I promise you though, that’s what they told me. They both showed me their wings and a few things which makes me believe them. At least them being angels part, I’m not really sure what to make of the Michael part. I guess I’ll have to see if they’re right about the dreams or not, but I tend to believe them.” he shrugged, grabbing his beer, saying this last thing before taking a drink, “Apparently I’m going to end up with three pairs of great red wings. I guess I’ll have to sleep on my stomach from now on just in case.”
"So they have great big feathery wings like all the paintings? What was it they did to prove all this?" she was curious, and still a smidge skeptical though so far she had never known Michael to lie or exaggerate.
Ana laughed at his description of his theoretical appearance, picturing poor Michael laying on his stomach with great wings sprouting from his back. It was a bizarre image to be sure. "Pobrecito.” After another sip of beer she then said, "Wait, hold up. You get six wings? That are red? What's that about?"
“Bigger than in most paintings, though I suppose they would have to be to lift all that weight. They are feathered too. And softer than you’d think.” That had surprised Michael, almost as much as being invited to touch them in the first place had. “A few different things. The seraph takes my pain away whenever it gets to be too much, I’ve flown with him though I guess it’s more like teleportation than it is flying. The archangel kept making things appear out of thin air, and probably did a few other things I didn’t notice, he likes to show off.”
Gabriel loved to show off. Michael got the feeling that he was going to have to set limits with the archangel if he was going to introduce Ana to him.
Michael didn’t speak Spanish, he had taken Latin in high school and at the academy, but he knew the word ‘pobre’ was close to the Latin word for poor so he assumed it was some kind of condolence. “Yes, archangels apparently have six wings. Gabriel has six massive golden wings, he was very eager to show them off too. I don’t really know why they’re all different colors though. His are gold, mine will be red, the angel of imagination’s are sort of shifting dawn colors with a bit of gold. My guess is that it has to do with function or personality. I know Michael is supposed to be a warrior, the embodiment of the wrath of God, so it makes some sense.”
Ana had some idea of Michael’s suffering with his battle wounds. Like so many soldiers before him, he had shrapnel left behind in his body and as a result occasional acute pain was the norm. The fact he could get some measure of relief that wasn’t from the open end of a prescription bottle was a relief to her, though it sounded like it wasn’t permanent.
“So the angels can’t take away your injuries permanently?” concern was written on her face, only because it seemed frustrating to her to be so close to being miraculously healed and yet not quite. She had made it out of her tour of duty in Iraq without such serious injuries, being shot at (and hit twice) the most she had experienced.
At the mention of teleportation, she rolled her eyes. “Please, don’t talk to me about teleportation! When I first got here that was the first crazy thing that happened to me in the OC.” But she was smirking more than anything else. It had been an…interesting experience.
She was amused that Gabriel liked to flaunt his powers a little. “And what, announcing Christ’s conception wasn’t enough for Gabriel, he’s gotta flaunt what else he’s got?” She chuckled. “I can’t even imagine that, really. So used to the Icons.” When Michael got to describing the whole wing color issue, Ana cocked her head to one side a little, curious. “Wow, that actually makes sense, I guess. Red is the color of wrath, right?” She paused a moment. “There’s an angel of imagination? Are there angels for everything?” Ana Lucia was sure she’d reflect on this conversation later as being absolutely ludicrous, discussing angels as real beings! As Michael being one of them! She would try to blame the alcohol but the fact remained that Orange County was it’s very own little Twilight Zone.
He smiled at her words on teleportation. He couldn’t blame her, that was one of the harder things to adjust to, especially when Gabriel was doing it right in front of his face when he least expected it. “They can, but it’s tricky. They could possibly change something that could prevent me from dreaming or cause problems when I started dreaming. For the moment we’ve decided to wait for me to start dreaming and then I should be able to fix it myself.”
Michael nodded, “Samandriel, yes, he’s the angel of imagination. He sent me to an encyclopedia on angels when I first discovered he was one. There are angels for pretty much everything. Days of the week, emotions, metaphysical constructs, trees, everything. I know. It’s… It’s crazy.”
Ana leaned back against the booth trying to absorb all this. She had not been a very good Catholic the past two years but the idea that all she had grown up being taught was materializing here in the OC was enough to send her packing to confession.
The food and her second beer came then, before Ana could say anything. She glanced at Michael with a knowing smile as they waited for the waitress to leave. "So there's an angel for waiters too?" She was amused there were so many.
Too hungry, she almost dug into the burger when she stopped herself. Smirking at Michael she said, "Guess I gotta start praying more huh?" She closed her eyes, said a quick silent prayer, crossed herself and then hungrily took a bite from her burger. After a few minutes silence of eating she took a break and sipping from a glass of water asked, "So what happens when people pray to you guys? All the Catholics around the world, that's a lot of prayers. Is it just incessant voices or do the angels just get their orders from God? "
“I don’t really know from personal experience yet, but I understand it’s intense. And it isn’t just Catholics either, there’s the Protestants and all the different Orthodoxies. Probably the other Abrahamic religions, though don’t quote me on that.” Michael hadn’t prayed or crossed himself or given any sign at all of his faith. He used to but since he had learned a few things about the archangel he would become and God it just seemed strange for him to do them himself. “Apparently one of the angels spent a few days curled up on his bathroom floor because the prayers were too much for him. And he isn’t one anyone has ever heard of, so no one is praying directly to him. Gabriel seems to know how to handle it without a problem but he hasn’t shared his secret with me.”
The tenderloin was good but Michael seemed most interested in the fries. He popped one into his mouth then shrugged. When his mouth was clear again he spoke, “I often communicate with some of the angels by prayer, though it’s never been a conversation, I just pray at one of them in particular and they appear. But they also do texts and emails. As for God, well, I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting or speaking with him yet.”
Ana Lucia frowned. “Well he better start sharing. I’m not gonna have you curled up on the bathroom floor. Sir. Otherwise angel or no he’s gonna get a piece of my mind.” She smirked as she pointed her beer bottle at him. Whether it was the alcohol starting to talk or just the fierce loyalty she had for him, it was hard to say. She finished the beer and set it aside, working on the burger again. The cheddar filled burger was absolutely amazing, she’d have to remember to get it again. When she broke for a sip of water (she figured she’d balance it out between alcoholic drinks so she wasn’t too drunk by the time they got to the movie later on) she gave him a curious expression, “Huh. So when you become an angel, if I start praying to you, you’re gonna just poof! Show up? Like right wherever I am? And they do texts and emails? What, like in Bruce Almighty?” She was amused by this, she had to admit.
He had to shrug, he honestly didn’t know. It was hard for him to say how it would work. So much of his future as an archangel was a big question mark. Sure, he got the occasional hint or helpful explanation from the three he regularly spoke to but that was just the tip of the iceberg as far as he knew. The idea of her giving Gabriel what-for was entertaining though so he smiled as he answered her question, “I imagine I would if you asked me to come. I’m not completely sure how it works but they’ve come when I asked them to in my prayers. Though really I can’t think up much of a reason to pray if I didn’t want to see them in person. A text or a phone call is just as convenient.”
Michael downed a bit more of his sandwich before he continued, “Well, they were normal guys too before they dreamed about being angels, I figure they’ve just gotten used to communicating like that. It’s easier to link pictures and videos and save important information.”
She nodded as Michael explained everything best he could. It would certainly be interesting once it happened. "So are you excited to be the icon of so many employed in the military and law enforcement? Or are you kinda freaking out inside about what it's gonna be like once it's for real?" She was taking it remarkably well. Perhaps that was a byproduct of being in the OC for so long.
The waitress came by and swept up Ana's abandoned plates and offered a refill on her alcohol but Ana wiggled her second beer, reminding the woman she'd just received it. She wasn't going to have too much here, there were other pubs to get to, hence the point of the pub crawl.
“I honestly hadn’t even considered the Saint aspect.” He admitted. “It’s really pretty hard to wrap my brain around the fact that it’s true in the first place. I think I’ve mostly dealt with it by sort of compartmentalizing it. Like I know I’m going to be more than I am now but it gets pushed to the back of my mind so I can get on with life rather than trying to wait around for it. And then when I have to stop and think about the whole thing it gets a little overwhelming. But at least I know I’ll have help through it. Gabriel and Samandriel and the others, they’ve been very welcoming.”
He finished the last of his plate then the last of his beer. That would be the only one he had here. He was genuinely trying to limit his intake that night, not only because of his medications but in case he ended up having to drive them. “But you haven’t had your dreams yet either, huh?”
Ana was glad Michael had a support system in place already for when it'd all go down. Better to be surrounded by those who'd gone through it than people who might end up freaking out. "That's good, glad someone's got your back."
She was nursing the dregs of her beer when Michael asked the question she wished she had a better answer to.
"Nope." She set the bottle aside after draining it. "Sucks. But hey at least I'm not alone." She smirked. "It better be that I'm some sort of crazy famous person with a ton of money. Or I'm just gonna blame the dreams on bad tacos." And she laughed. The waitress swept by like lightning, leaving the check on the table in her wake. Ana started to fish into her purse for her wallet. "What's the damage?"
“Don’t worry about it,” he made a stop motion at her reaching into her purse as he got out his own wallet. “I’ve got this one, you can get the next.” As traditional as his upbringing had been he didn’t actually have an issue with letting a woman pay for things or going dutch, but he generally liked to pay for things himself. In this case he was happy to do it place by place, hoping a little that concern with how much she would be spending would keep him from drinking too much.
“Crazy famous person with a ton of money sounds good. Well, aside from the famous part. That sounds like a bit of a drag.” Said the future Saint Michael the Archangel, the archangel that had countless churches, prayers, sacramentals, paintings and other things dedicated to or named after him.
At first Ana started to raise an eyebrow at Michael commandeering the bill, because after all, this was not a date but supposed to be the polar opposite. Then she saw the logic and decided she liked the plan.
"What's wrong with being famous?" She smirked at the future religious icon as she pulled on her jacket and grabbed her purse. "Could have tons of fans. Your own reality show. Be on late night talk shows. Help the Pope hold Mass for Christmas." She was teasing of course and snickered at the last part.
“I am not going to be the one to remind everyone that Christ’s actual birthday was not December twenty-fifth, that’s just asking for trouble. Could you imagine? I’d be excommunicated pretty much instantly.” Michael teased. If anyone was going to be excommunicated it would be Gabriel, mostly because he very rightly deserved it. He got out behind her, allowing her to lead them out. Even if it wasn’t an actual date Michael couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun with such a beautiful woman and he was greatly looking forward to the rest of the evening. If he was lucky he might even end up remembering most of it.