cashay: (Michael)
[personal profile] cashay

Chapter 6

When loud, angry voices and the sound of breaking things woke him, Chuck couldn't bring himself to be happy about it even though it meant that he wouldn't have to deal with the awkward fact that he had snuggled with two guys for the last two nights now. And not any guys but two archangels. Which brought him back to the present problem.

For a long moment Chuck contemplated just staying in bed and getting drunk enough to not know his own name but despite common belief, he actually liked his house and by the sound of it there wouldn't be that much left of it if he didn't stop their newest discussion.

Slowly walking down the stairs, Chuck wondered what Lucifer was so angry about again. Probably there was no reason any sane person would actually notice. Lucifer tended to explode just because you wore the wrong shirt. Well okay, he never said that but Chuck wouldn't put it past him.

Only when he stepped into the living room he realized that for a change it wasn't Lucifer who was screaming and throwing things but Michael. Not that he didn't do that half of the time anyway but this time Lucifer just stood at the window, his back to the fuming Michael like he wasn't even there.

“You have no right, Lucifer!” Michael snarled, pushing a lamp to the ground in the process. “You might run away from duty and your family but I'm not the same as you are. I'm not selfish and useless!”

Chuck was stunned. After their first encounter after waking up, Michael and Lucifer had carefully avoided the topic of Hell, Heaven, the Apocalypse and the Cage or generally anything in their past. But now Michael was going there again, trying to hurt Lucifer, that much was obvious even to Chuck.

"I made a choice Michael," Lucifer said softly from across the room, so soft that Chuck was barely able to hear it from where he stood in the doorway. "Humans are not the only ones with Free Will. You never understood that, neither did anyone else. Castiel maybe did."

He paused and Chuck held his breath waiting for another outbreak from Michael but instead the other man just looked stunned. "Humans are the only ones who have Free Will."

Lucifer's snort was so pain filled, Chuck cringed slightly, surprised by how strongly he felt for the other man. "Animals have Free Will, Michael. A wolf decides if it runs or fights for its pups. A horse decides whether to take the risk of jumping that hill or not. A bird decides if it risks the flight in the storm or not."

Even while talking to them Lucifer stared out of the window and Chuck was sure he had that distant look he often saw on Michael's face when he was alone in his garden. It was a look that practically screamed hurt and sorrow.

"All of them have the Free Will to make those decisions. So do the Angels, so do Demons. Our father has given it to all of His creations." He tilted his head to the side and raised his arms, hugging himself like he was cold. And maybe he was. Filled with a coldness that no warm summer day could drive away.

"But you never understood that. And you never understood that with the Free Will comes another thing. Do you know what it is Michael?"

Now he turned, his eyes fixed on Michael but even from his position, Chuck could see the pain and the loneliness that Lucifer was radiating, emotions he normally kept hidden under a mask of indifference and hate. Chuck was pretty sure it was this open and broken look on Lucifer's face that had rendered Michael mute, the other archangel just slightly shaking his head.

Lucifer laughed, short and chopped before shaking his head. "Of curse not. You never understood. You hated me and cursed me. You threw me down into the Cage but you never asked why. You never understood."

While he was speaking, Lucifer turned back to the window, facing away from both of them once more. Chuck was pretty sure he just wasn't able to deal with the world anymore. "You didn't even want to." Again that laugh that made Chuck's blood run cold, not with fear but with pain.

"Everyone can decide their own path. But in the end, in the end you have to live with where this path leads you. You have to take the responsibility for your actions. Something none of you ever did. It was always Father and Father's Will, never your own. Because you were afraid and you were dumb and blinded by pride. I bet the rest of the Host still is."

"You're calling us blinded by pride?" Michael snarls, all of the insecurity gone, once again driven out by hate. "You were the one that dared to question our Father. You deemed yourself more worthy than what He thought. You dared to claim something that wasn't for you."

He stalked forward, towards Lucifer who didn't give any indication of noticing Michael. Chuck was too engrossed by what was going on between the two to react and by the time he had actually noticed Michael's intent, the archangel had already spun Lucifer around and shoved him against a wall. "You're filthy and you're the least of Father's creations. He should have let me destroy you; I would have gladly done so. I begged Him."

Chuck wasn't sure who Michael was hurting more with those words, Lucifer or himself. He seemed so set on hurting Lucifer, on lashing out that he didn't care what he did, all the affection between them forgotten.

"That's a lie," Lucifer whispered softly, his gaze filled with pain as he averted it from Michael, fixing it on Chuck instead. The prophet felt crushed under the look but still he was unable to turn away. He knew he was intruding into something private but he just couldn't leave them now.

"It isn't," Michael snarled, pressing even closer into Lucifer's space. And unlike normally when Lucifer would lash out if you even so much at accidentally came in the room when he didn't want you to, the Devil allowed Michael to push him around. "I never..."

But before he could say anything Lucifer spoke again, this time his volume was raised to cut off Michael's words. “What father casts out his son for asking questions?”

Chuck was sure he had never heard so much pain in a voice. Lucifer had always seemed strong. Angry and maybe a bit lonely, but strong, determined; a fighter. But right now the only thing that came to Chuck's mind was broken. Completely and utterly broken.

“What brother shoves his brother into hell to rot there for millennia just because he doesn't agree?” Finally Lucifer looked away from Chuck, his eyes returning to Michael, whose anger didn't fade even though the Prophet could see a hint of pain behind the scowling mask his face had turned into.

“A brother who does his duty," Michael replied coldly. "Our Father isn't any human dad, He is the Creator. Whatever He does is right and His every word needs to be followed"

There was so much faith in his voice, he reminded Chuck of those crazy sectarians who preached at the side of the road. Absolute devotion, no doubt was allowed, not even if it made sense. It was starting to really freak Chuck out.

Lucifer seemed to see it too or maybe there was something Chuck didn't notice that made the brown-haired man speak up again with defiance in his voice. "Why should our Father be without fault? No one is, not Him, not Death. No one!"

"What you say is blasphemy," Michael said, shocked and disgusted. Chuck wondered why he reacted so strongly, after all Lucifer had been thrown out of Heaven for rebelling. Surely blasphemy was the least of his sins.

If the way he had tilted his head was any indication Lucifer was just as surprised. "Blasphemy? He cast me out Michael. He threw me away like humans throw away old clothes just because He didn't feel like dealing with His son anymore. Blasphemy is the least of my sins."

“Why did you do that to us Lucifer?” Chuck wasn't the only one surprised by that turn of the conversation. It seemed like even Michael himself didn't know why he had said it. But the look of surprise changed into one of determination. “Why?! You talk about living with your choices but what about us? We had to live with your choices too. When you fell you damned us too.”

Lucifer stayed silent at that, eyes wide, and if it weren't Lucifer he was speaking about, Chuck would have said they were filled with tears.

Michael seemed to be even further angered by the lack of answers from Lucifer. He grabbed the collar of the archangel again, pushing him back against the wall with more force than necessary. “What about us? Did you think about what you did to us for one moment? Did you ever consider the damage you did?”

The black-haired man sounded wounded, like a cornered animal, as he shook Lucifer. His voice was trembling, he sounded like he was crying.

“What about us?” His voice died away until it was barely there. “What about me?”

Suddenly Michael pulled Lucifer close in a bone crushing hug that looked so desperate; Chuck wished he could somehow all make it better. For a moment Lucifer was still in the embrace like he didn't know what to do. But then slowly he raised his arms to hold onto Michael as tight as Michael held onto him.

Michael was clearly sobbing now, his whole body shaking in Lucifer's embrace. It was heartbreaking to hear the soft, hurt noises he made when Lucifer pulled him even closer and buried his head in his neck. Chuck was sure he was crying too.

“Why did you leave me?” Michael mumbled softly over and over again with a shaking voice. “Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me?”

Lucifer didn't respond with words but instead he pulled Michael downwards and onto his lap, cradling the older angel in his arms while he murmured words in languages Chuck didn't understand and had never heard.

When Lucifer looked up at him, Chuck was startled out of his rigor. The ex-archangel kept looking at him, like he expected Chuck to do something while the prophet had actually no idea what. Instead of doing anything that could get him in trouble or destroy this precious moment, Chuck turned around and fled from Lucifer's intense stare.

If he were honest with himself, he would have admitted that it wasn't that he feared to do something to disturb them but the real reason he fled was rather that he was out of his depth with what he was feeling. He was sure he shouldn't be jealous but still the ugly feeling crept up inside him right along with an aching kind of longing. He couldn't remember if he had ever experienced anything like it.

He fled as far as he could – which meant his room – and buried himself in his bed again, hiding under the cover like they offered any real kind of protection. Maybe, just maybe, he could escape the world for a while. Without really thinking about it, his hand reached for the alcohol hidden under his bed.

Chapter 7

Chuck woke with a headache and a cursing Lucifer standing next to his bed. That was definitely not the way he had hoped to wake up. Even though in the end he had been to drunk to actually remember what he had hoped for. He could have demanded a pink unicorn for all he knew. He had done stranger things while drunk.

“You stupid, idiotic, suicidal human!” Lucifer snarled, looking like he would really like to snap Chuck's neck.

But he didn't need to worry about that; by the way his head was pounding he was pretty sure his neck wouldn't feel like supporting it anyway. Not that any part of his body was up to anything right now, well aside from puking. That sounded like a rather good idea actually.

Lucifer was still talking; looking so much like a pissed off archangel that Chuck was pretty sure Becky would orgasm at the sight. Urg, this was not a picture he needed in his head.

“We thought we had found all your bottles but apparently you are too stupid to realize that you are killing yourself with them.” Only now that he was actually speaking Chuck noticed Michael hovering directly behind Lucifer. They looked comfortable in each other's space.

For some reason this thought sickened him and he turned around with an angry mumble. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

He didn't give a shit about Lucifer's growl or Michael's probably disapproving glare. He was nursing he mother of all hangovers, he was allowed to be bitchy, God damn it! Or rather not 'God damn it' he wasn't sure if one of them would maybe take offense in that wording.

What he certainly wasn't counting on was being dragged out of his bed by a still cursing Lucifer, who didn't seem to have much trouble actually carrying him out of the room. Before he managed to wrap his head around the question of why the hell Lucifer was so unfairly strong while he, well, simply wasn't, he got dropped unceremoniously into the shower.

Chuck was still having an inner discussion about why they brought him here when the shower got turned on and the ice-cold water shocked any thoughts from his mind. He tried to get out but Lucifer prevented that by shoving him back under the spray and holding him there in an unfairly strong grip. There certainly was a reason why he was the Devil – this was torture!

The spray was only turned off when Chuck started to shiver. Even though he felt like he was freezing, he was awake now and his headache actually seemed to have left. While his nausea had not.

That made the decision what to do now very easy and he was very thankful for already being in the bathroom. Otherwise he wouldn't have made it to the toilet even nearly in time. And cleaning up old vomit from the floor in the hallway certainly wasn't anything he wanted to do.

While he decided to gift the toilet with the contents of his suspiciously empty stomach, Michael kneeled down next to him and soothingly rubbed his back. He definitely was the nicer of the two; Chuck had known it all along. Or something like that.

He heard Lucifer leave the room but sadly his tormentor returned a few minutes later. The bathrobe he handed Chuck actually made him less a tormentor and more a savior, even though he had pushed him into the shower. But Chuck was cold; he wouldn't be picky.

To his surprise, Chuck really enjoyed the gentle way Lucifer covered him with the bathrobe, slightly massaging his neck once he had clothed Chuck. And then he actually sat down behind him and allowed Chuck to lean against his very nice and warm chest when he was exhausted from puking up three fourths of a bottle of some very strong alcohol.

Fuck, he hurt all over and Lucifer's chest is so nice and warm and his hand was so wonderfully cold when he put it on his forehead. Oh, or maybe it is Michael who seemed to have changed position since Chuck had given up the fight to keep his eyes open.

Slowly he turned and hid his head in the crook of Lucifer's neck while clinging to him. He was nice and warm, and Chuck really didn't want to go anywhere right now. Actually he...

The minute Chuck woke up his head insisted on telling him that this was a very bad idea and he shouldn't have done that. He groaned softly, trying to hide away from the world only to find that he wasn't alone in bed.

But unlike the last time he had made that particular observation there weren't two persons in his bed but only one. And this one person was indeed Lucifer. The ex-archangel was holding Chuck in his arms like he was the most precious thing in the world. It actually felt nice.

So nice that Chuck decided to snuggle closer. They were lying on his bed and Chuck had rolled into a small ball for some reason with Lucifer curled around him, his arms around Chuck's middle. It was nice and intimate and Chuck actually felt better now, despite still having the mother of all hangovers.

Hesitantly he moved his left arm so his hand was resting on Lucifer's. He was rewarded by being pulled even closer and hearing that weird rumbling sound Lucifer always made when he was pleased. When the older being nuzzled his neck a shudder crept up his spine but if that was even possible he just pressed closer.

“Rest,” Lucifer rumbled into his ear while he started to trace patterns onto Chuck's stomach with his thumb.

Chuck actually thought this was a good idea and closed his eyes again, content to just lie there and enjoy being held. It was a very good feeling.

A not so good feeling was waking up alone in his bed again, once more woken up by voices only this time they actually tried to be calm – and failed. For a moment Chuck really wasn't so sure he wanted to hear the argument Lucifer and Michael were having. It wasn't as if he had much choice in the matter, since they decided to get closer to the door.

“No, I'm certain pasta casserole is his favorite food,” Lucifer insisted rather loudly.

“He probably still has a weak stomach, some light food will be better for him,” Michael claimed a bit less loud than Lucifer but still too loud for Chuck's taste.

He decided to intervene before they tore apart the house again – this time in a fight about his favorite food. That wasn't something he wanted to risk in the near future, especially since that would mean he would have to get up to stop them.

“How about two aspirins and a glass of water?” He shouted, far too loud if his own pounding head got a say.

If the scrambling he heard from outside was any indication the ex-angels were getting right onto it. Good for them, or rather good for Chuck. He really could use that aspirin right about now.


The aspirin had actually helped and by noon he had managed to get down onto the couch and feel actually a bit alive. Which meant he now had more time to think about the freakish behavior Lucifer and Michael were displaying.

It was like they were trying to outdo each other by doing more and better things for him. Being the sole focus of the attention of two beings that were so old was very much freaking Chuck out. But he didn't have much of a choice.

When he had insisted that he didn't need any help, Lucifer had stormed off with a face that said clearly he would like to destroy the world right the fuck now, while Michael made the most pathetic puppy-dog eyes and hovered in the corner looking like Lucifer got his goal and the world was about to end.

Chuck hadn't been able to resist the combined powers of Lucifer's anger and Michael's misery very long, which resulted in him calling for both of them for help. Sadly that also meant he was their sole focus again. It was rather frustrating and more than just a bit scary.

He hoped it would be over soon, maybe it would leave with the hangover, which had better not have any ideas of staying much longer either.

When Michael came into the room with something that might have at one point in its life resembled food ,Chuck doubted he would survive until his hangover left him alone. It rather looked like Michael wanted to dispose of him after all.

The pathetic look on Michael's face when Chuck just pushed the food around on his plate made the prophet actually consider risking his life by eating some of it just to stop Michael from looking at him like he had told him he liked killing puppies and little fluffy kittens.

Thankfully that was the moment Lucifer chose to appear in the doorway with a tray of much more edible looking food. When he saw what Michael had presented Chuck with he scowled and pushed his brother aside before taking away the plate.

In it's place he put lasagna that looked and smelled too good to be true. Chuck didn't think twice about digging into it, savoring the amazing taste and complementing Lucifer with a full mouth. He wasn't aware of the effect this had on Michael until he growled and stomped out of the room.

Lucifer, who looked rather smug but also slightly worried – and that range of emotions alone creeped Chuck out – sat down on the sofa, pulling the prophet onto his lap. And if the cuddling in the bed or the display of emotions didn't freak Chuck out, this certainly did.

But it was also kind of nice the way Lucifer's arms wound around him and he put his head down onto his shoulder, watching Chuck eat. No, not kind of nice, rather really, really nice.

He snuggled closer to Lucifer, turning his head to his right, which lead to Lucifer's face being way too close. To his own surprise, Chuck found that he really didn't mind that closeness at all. The prophet decided he was still way too hung-over to have a gay-freak-out because he wass cuddling with an archangel who fell and became the Devil only to end up human, and oh yeah, who is a guy.

He heard a chocked sound from the door and nearly chocked on his lasagna as he looked up only to find Michael standing there, looking shocked. The black-haired man held a chocolate bar in his hand, which probably was more crumbs than an actual bar since both of Michael's hands had turned into fists.

"Michael!" He called out when the ex-archangel abruptly turned around to leave the room.

But Michael stopped when Chuck called him, even though he didn't turn back around. Instead he waited with his back to Chuck for whatever the Prophet had to say. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say or simply what he wanted either, which lead to him gesturing rather helplessly towards the couch. Gestures which Michael, of course, couldn't see.

Lucifer was no help either. His grip had possessively tightened around Chuck's waist since Michael had entered the room and he made no indication that he wanted to vocalize the gestures Chuck was making.

Since he said nothing Michael finally turned around again. The look that he and Lucifer exchanged that moment couldn't have been filled with more tension than if it was in one of Becky's horrible fanfictions.

It was obvious even to Chuck – who considered himself one of the socially most inept people alive – that even though things had changed since their big fight this morning, they hadn't actually changed for the better.

Rather both of them seemed more distant from each other, not really fighting all that much but instead avoiding the presence of the other ex-angel. And it seemed that the truce they had come to, which had somehow involved him being the center of the affection of both angels had been broken too.

He should probably be relieved that he wouldn't have to sleep with two men in his bed, but instead he felt sad.

When Chuck realized that he had been lost in his thoughts and both men were staring at him expectantly, he blushed furiously, still lost for what he actually wanted but now he was starting to gesture for the couch again.

By the look on his face, Michael understood and Chuck was relieved when his face lit up. But then his face darkened again and he shook his head.

"No. I will not sit next to the abomination," he declared and turned around, leaving the room.

Chuck was too shocked to say anything to hold him back. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to hold him back or just wanted to punch him in the face.

Lucifer hadn't said anything but his grip around Chuck's waist was nearly painful by now. It was obvious he didn't want to let him go, no matter what. Chuck kind of felt like a security blanket.

What the fuck had happened after he had left the room to drink himself into a coma?

Chapter 8
Even after he had finished dinner, Lucifer had flat out refused to let him go until Chuck had practically yelled at him because he had to use the damn toilet. After that Lucifer had looked hurt and had let go of Chuck without another word.

When he had come back from the toilet the couch had been empty and he had heard sounds from the closed kitchen, a clear indication that Lucifer was pissed and wanted to be left alone.

Instead of risking his life by going into the kitchen, Chuck went outside to look for Michael in the garden.

He found him sure enough, kneeling in between two beds of flowers, picking up weeds. When Chuck was only a few feet away Michael looked up. The smile that lit up his face was heartwarming and Chuck felt like his stomach had done a little flip of it's own.

"Hey," he greeted him softly, kneeling down beside the ex-archangel to help him with his task.

Before he could start to pick the weeds he found himself in one of Michael's hugs, which by itself wasn't all that weird since Michael had never come over the habit of hugging Chuck wherever they were whenever he felt like it. But the intensity of the hug reminded Chuck of how he had felt earlier, like a security blanket. Something to hold onto so the world wouldn't fall apart.

"What happened between you and Lucifer?" He inquired softly.

He didn't want to spook Michael, but he had to know because whatever it was it would make living a bitch. Michael seemed to disagree though, shaking his hand.

"You don't need to know," he said with a voice that held all the authority of an archangel.

"I don't need to know?" Chuck asked before snorting disbelievingly. "You called him an abomination and you won't even sit next to him. Do I need to remind you that we all slept in the same bed for the last few days?"

That got him a reaction from Michael, even though not one he had hoped for. He certainly hadn't hoped to be shoved into one of Michael's precious beds.

"No, you don't need to remind me!" Michael snarled before he stalked away to some other part of the garden.

Chuck stayed in the bed, shocked by Michael's outburst. Even when he had first arrived here and Michael and Lucifer had fought every day, Michael had always been more than kind to him.

The violent outbursts had only started this morning and Chuck still had no idea what had prompted the fight and what had happened after it seemed like the two of them had somehow overcome their hostile feelings for each other.

To say dinner was tense would the understatement of the century. And yes, Chuck was taking statements like 'The Winchesters are harmless' into that consideration.

Lucifer had put only two plates onto the table, one for himself and one for Chuck. When Michael entered the kitchen a few minutes after Chuck, the prophet was sure that he saw hurt on his face.

He offered Michael to share his plate with him but Lucifer as well as Michael seemed to take a lot of offense to that. Lucifer looked like Chuck had told him his food was the worst he had ever eaten or simply put it into the trash while Michael declared that he would never eat something that had been touched by someone who was as rotten as Lucifer.

Chuck felt too tired to remind him how often all of them had eaten what Lucifer cooked, even while Lucifer and Michael weren't actually talking unless they had a fight.

Instead he ate his meals silently and did his best to ignore the hurt, angry and desperate looks Michael and Lucifer shot each other over the table. Whatever happened had obviously been bad.

When they started to fight about who would watch TV that evening with him, without ever having asked what he thought, Chuck felt a headache building. And he had only just gotten over that stupid hangover...

Instead of letting himself get sucked into the argument, Chuck rose abruptly and glared angrily at both of them before declaring that he wouldn't do anything with any of them right now because he was heading to bed.

He nearly over-thought his decision when he saw the crushed expressions on both of their faces but he knew if he gave in it would be worse.
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