Adam & Michael (iamagoodson) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-03-21 03:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | lucifer morningstar, michael |
Who: Lucifer + Michael
What: Disapproving stares
When: 3/10
Where: Lucifer's Home for Wayward Angels
Rating: Lowish
Status: Complete
Even a day later, the tension that was settled into the house after the fight that had gone down in the back was nearly palpable.
Lucifer had spent a good portion of the night away from here -- speaking with the Winchesters and drinking his way through a good amount of Castiel's strangely well stocked tea reserves. He'd slipped away in the middle of the night, leaving them to sleep. And even though he didn't technically need to sleep anymore, the archangel still enjoyed the act -- more so when Samandriel had joined him not long after.
This morning though, Lucifer was still slightly put off about things. Making efforts to fix everything and turn it into something good again wasn't something he was opposed to doing (not even a little bit) -- that he had to do it at all was more his issue. Assuming that grown men would be able to know better hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped for. Standing at the window, a new cup of tea in his hands, Lucifer stared out into the grassy portion of his backyard like he was possibly just rewatching what had gone down the day before.
The slight hint of sarcasm Michael had when he accepted that he would have to speak to the archangel he occasionally mentally referred to as ‘lord of the manor’ was gone when the morning came. He had been honest with Samandriel though, while he wasn’t exactly looking forward to speaking to the archangel on the subject he would still do it. Good son, good soldier, knew that when there was a fuck up of any sort he was supposed to bend the knee and bare his neck and wait for forgiveness or the axe to swing down. He had been well trained and conditioned to accept responsibility for everything he was involved in, even when, like in this instance, he didn’t believe he was wholly responsible for the outcome.
But, as he was very much aware, his beliefs meant very little when compared to his actions. He was meant to fall in line, to do as he was told and with Lucifer not only in the center of it all but also barely a half-step removed from being a god, he was the one Michael felt it right to speak to.
“Lucifer,” Michael resisted the urge to call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr Morningstar’, which he found impressive in itself as it was a very powerful urge. He had been standing a few feet behind the archangel waiting for some sort of acknowledgement but when it didn’t come quickly he spoke up. He slipped his hands into his pockets to keep himself from spinning his ring. Lucifer knew what it was and why Michael needed to spin it and just what it meant when he did, Michael hadn’t wanted to give him the wrong impression. “Could I talk to you for a moment?”
More than aware that Michael meant no current disrespect didn't mean that Lucifer couldn't be strangely amused at the fact that everyone always seemed to be sorry in retrospect. That was the way of the world he supposed, particularly when it came to the sorts who ran hot quickly like Michael and Dean.
He turned from the window, finally acknowledging Michael. It was a bit cold of him to have ignored the other man until he'd said something, but he'd done the same with Dean yesterday and saw no reason to go about this any differently.
"Absolutely," he agreed - because it could never be said that Lucifer wasn't at least gracious enough to listen whenever he was asked to. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
The breakfast question shouldn’t have surprised him. Michael himself had used the technique of asking innocuous questions to throw his subordinates off balance when they came to speak with him. That was more about maintaining control over a person or situation. He didn’t think Lucifer was like that. Lucifer didn’t need to be. He had a commanding and intimidating presence, especially as he was he was so soft spoken and laid back about whatever might be going on to cause everyone else upset. Michael had developed an instant respect for him and his incredibly long shadow.
When Lucifer spoke about food or tea the archangel was being courteous. And it seemed like Michael had repaid that kindness with violating the peace of the house by fighting the more annoying Winchester on the back lawn. It was all very bad form.
“No.” Sir. His eyes found their way to Lucifer’s, the look was brief but respectful. He would have to eat something to make sure he wasn’t shaky during his cognition tests, and he really wanted to pass them today, but he wanted this dealt with first as it had been weighing on his mind. “About yesterday, I- I want to express my regret and shame for my actions. They were,” the words came quickly but he clearly didn’t enjoy saying them. “Juvenile and disrespectful.”
The mention of breakfast had been for Michael's sake - more because Lucifer was aware it was sometimes easier to have conversations on heavy topics when there was something to do to keep hands busy. That Michael plowed right along with his words wasn't surprising. The topic at hand was heavy for all of them and the idea of putting it into the past quickly did have some appeal.
Lucifer spread his fingers wide until his mug of tea disappeared completely and offered Michael his full attention. It seemed only fair to do since he was being given the same thing. "I appreciate the apology," he said - and that was true - humbling oneself was never easy, and it was clear Michael didn't need to do it often. "Greatly."
Appreciation didn't automatically assume forgiveness though. Apologies were fine and good, but they didn't solve problems. And the problem solved -- or at least the promise of it -- was what Lucifer was looking for. "I suspect Samandriel has already given you a bit of a lecture regarding the subject." It wasn't quite a question, but definitely a prompt.
“Yes,”Sir. “He was very clear with how he felt I should behave when it came to Dean.” Coddling, as Michael had called it back when he was at his own low point and it had been him everyone had been looking after. He had hated it, openly rebelled against it until his father had to step in and order him to be obedient. It had shut him up long enough for him to see the value of the care and concern put into looking after him. “And he did have some valid points.”
A lot of points that implied that Michael ought to bend over backwards for the man. And he could understand most of them and Samandriel’s desire to help the obviously more fragile man, which was what eventually had him agreeing. As much as it was implied among those that knew them Michael wasn’t as whipped as he appeared. He took Samandriel’s desires into account of course but in the end he had made the decision. “I’ve promised to make a better effort in future to get along with Dean, as well as never let anything this foolish happen again.”
Lucifer didn't necessarily think anyone more or less fragile than the next -- Dean had strengths and weaknesses the same way that Michael did, or even Samandriel or Castiel. It didn't mean any of them were to be treated with kid's gloves -- but being given due respect was only fair to everyone involved. When two adults couldn't keep from arguing on the internet (of all places), it was fair to assume things had gone too far.
"It's not coddling that Dean needs or expects." Lucifer said, and if it was cutting slightly into thoughts over conversation, Lucifer wouldn't apologize for that. People simply thought loudly and sometimes he couldn't be bothered to block it all away. "And I wouldn't expect you to feel the need to give it to him. A little civility goes a long way though - and for that I'll thank you again." And absolutely hold him to those words. "The same as I thanked him for promising nearly the same thing."
Lucifer paused, considering for a moment. "I gave him his key back."
Michael was far too used to Samandriel seemingly dipping into his head to be bothered by Lucifer doing the same. In fact he tended to expect it from Lucifer, a being with power like that, it only made sense. It likely simplified a great deal and saved the archangel from getting unnecessarily annoyed on more than one occasion. It was what Michael would have done were he in his place.
He didn’t touch on Dean’s care though. He may have endured a great many of the same things but there were enough differences between himself and the older of the Winchester brothers that he couldn’t claim to know what Dean really needed.
“He took it?” Both dark brows went up at that. He was sure the angels always got what they wanted, Samandriel especially, but he didn’t realize they could work so quickly. Dean was incredibly stubborn, his stubbornness had been legendary. Yet he hadn’t taken the opportunity to sulk for a few days like he could have. Michael was more than a little surprised. His words yesterday about hating the other man had been a painfully obvious lie, he did care about Dean. Part of him was at least a little glad to hear he was at least holding tight to the angels that mattered so much to him. “That’s good.”
All of the angels were fairly good at getting whatever it was they wanted -- albeit in different ways -- but Lucifer was just as good as (if not better than) Samandriel when it came to having his way. The largest difference was that Lucifer didn’t need to plot or plan as much as Imagination.
“Yes,” Lucifer agreed, glancing thoughtfully at the window again. “Although having it again may not directly correlate to him using it.” Dean was stubborn, and he wouldn’t just randomly show up alone, unexpected or without reason anymore. But Lucifer had made sure that Winchester knew absolutely and completely that the option to do so was there. “But if he does, I trust you both to behave accordingly,” it wasn’t a chiding so much as an open acknowledgement of the fact that they’d both promised to not get into petty fist fights in his backyard anymore -- and that he chose to believe them.
“Of course.” Sir. It was easy enough to promise. No matter his problems with Dean or Dean’s with him, it simply wasn’t worth physically visiting them on one another now. Maybe when they were back in the service, when they didn’t have so many sore spots and find it so easy to press them, a fight might have gotten it all out of their systems, but now that they were so closely related and caught up in the plans of the angels it wasn’t a viable option. Morale and a strict chain of command had kept them from fighting before, it seemed the same was happening here, command was just a little more subtle these days. “I have no desire to cause any trouble.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, nearly in the ‘at ease’ stance. “But he was alright? I- Dean has always been very good at damaging my control.” he understood that angels could heal anything but Michael didn’t want to think he had been responsible for anything too damaging. “I may have hit him harder than I intended.”
That constant unspoken Sir was never missed, and Lucifer would be lying if he said he didn't like it. He definitely did. And while that chain of command was subtle, it didn't mean it wasn't there or that Lucifer wasn't pleased to be at the very top.
"A cut lip and some bruises, possibly a cracked rib. Castiel dealt with it," Lucifer's tone was the verbal equivalent of a shrug, because it hadn't been the physical damage that was really a worry, it never was with them. "He's alright." He cocked his head slightly to the side and considered Michael. "Are you?"
Not a cut lip, a bitten one. Michael did believe in fighting dirty, generally because if he was in a real fight there was every possibility that he could end up dead and he did all he could to avoid that so everything was permitted. The fight with Dean hadn’t been that intense. He and likely Dean too didn’t believe he was in any true danger, not until Michael had lost his temper and started throwing real punches. All of it over being reminded, as he was at every turn, that Samandriel wasn’t just his as he was very well aware at this point. And then Dean had held him down and all Michael could think of was getting free. It was a mess from the start and one Michael didn’t want to see repeated.
“I’m fine.” Or as fine as Michael tended to be, Samandriel had healed any problems before they began and Michael had knowingly asked for help. It was a good sign at the very least, possibly the only good thing to come from this as far as he was concerned. “He said something about ending up locked in a box in hell with Satan because of him, but that isn’t something I’m going to let bother me until I start dreaming.”
"Probably a wise option," Lucifer agreed -- even though he knew what Michael was taking about. Of course he did -- he'd made his way through eight seasons of a show that was … well, about them -- in only a few short days thanks to Samadriel introducing it. He was only glad he had no real part in that dream life.
"I suppose when all else fails, you can just remind yourself you're already in a place with Satan anyway. It could be worse, I think. The kitchen is always stocked, in any case." Might as well turn it around to something vaguely pleasant.
"I don't want to keep you longer if you're on a schedule."
“That’s true,” Michael agreed, a little relieved that this had ended up easier than he expected. “Though I doubt the Lucifer I will be familiar with has a fondness for fine tea.” Not that he spent a lot of time thinking about the other Lucifer. It still struck him as odd that it was even possible for there to be two of them, but then it also implied that there were two of him as well. He couldn’t even begin to fathom that one and so decided not to. It was easier to think of them as they were, Lucifer and Michael brought together because of their love for the angel of imagination, everything else was just unimportant details.
“Thank you,” Sir. “Hopefully today will be better than the last, for everyone.” Michael did have a schedule. Michael always had a schedule, even as a boy he had one. It was actually a comfort most of the time. Uncertainty and a lack of structure made him uneasy but as long as he always knew where he had to be and when and what he was supposed to do he was alright.
The Lucifer that Michael would eventually know seemed like a devil who had let his life get the most of him in all ways and had stayed on a path that was both typical and a little disappointing as far as this Lucifer was concerned. Not that he hadn't had his time of terrible rule and reign and righteous anger as well. He was just… over it. Like he was over so many things, really. It was easier to just be calm and enjoy his fine teas after so many billion years.
"I'm sure it will be better. I hate for there to be any awkwardness lingering. At least it's all out there now." He scraped his teeth over his bottom lip for a moment and then stuck his hands into his pockets. "You're good for Samandriel. He's been mostly pleased lately. Thank you for that."
Well Michael was certainly going to add that to the list of things he never expected to hear Lucifer say. Really all that was left now was ‘praise the Lord’ or some other variant of that. “I- Uh. You’re welcome, sir.” it had caught him a little off guard to be honest. The idea of his lover’s fiance thanking him seemed strange, but then again to Michael the whole arrangement still was. He was adjusting, and it would take a little time on his part to break all his early conditioning but he was willing to try for the sake of Samandriel’s happiness. “I do love him,” which Lucifer of course had to be aware of given that he and Samandriel weren’t at all subtle and the archangel knew pretty much everything that went on in his house. Not to mention how Michael’s soul was still very much marked by the little seraph. “I am happy to be what I can for him.”
The sir had slipped out but there was no way he was going to give into his urge to salute or bow. That would have just been absurd.
Totally absurd. It would have been kind of cute, though. For Lucifer, anyway.
The archangel smiled, more lopsided than should have seemed proper, but it was honest like he so often was. "I know," he agreed. It was all a little strange probably, but it seemed to work for all of them so long as no one was throwing punches in his backyard.
"Don't let me keep you any longer," Lucifer said, re-summoning his tea from wherever it was it went when he wasn't actively holding it. It was, of course, still hot. It was as much dismissal as anything else: the blond angel wasn't upset anymore, but the necessary conversation was over and he needn't have patience for morning small talk in his own house. Some things needed to remain sacred, thank you.