cashay: (Lucifer)
[personal profile] cashay
prologue

Long before The Fall, long before God's thoughts conceived the earth, the human race and everything there was in creation; there was Heaven. But Heaven was empty so God made the Archangels. They were the first, the mightiest. They were the ones that would affect the ways of the earth.

God had plans for them. He wanted them to play important roles in the things He would Create. They should take care of them; love them like they loved Him.

The Archangels – the first four beings in creation – were the most powerful of the Angels. Michael, who was close to God himself. Lucifer, the light-bearer, the brightest of them all. Gabriel, the strongest one, if not in power so in His will. Raphael, the healer who would tend the wounds in His creation.

Other angels followed and God made the earth and all the living things on it. There was peace and happiness until the day He created the human race. He asked his angels to love them above all. But Lucifer refused.

He loved his Father and he loved Michael more than he could ever love anything. Lucifer couldn't accept the wishes of his Father and so his Father asked Michael to throw him down to earth. Michael executed the wish of his Father even though it broke his heart.

And as Lucifer was trapped in the Cage, Michael wept. So did his brother, down in the deepest corner of Hell, as far from home as he could get and more lonely than he ever had been. Both of them knew, that if they ever met each other again one would have to kill the other.

But God had given the free will to all his Creation not only the humans. The Angels were free to choose their own path too, but no one, not even Lucifer had understood that. They all thought that this was the war to fulfill his word.

Yet it wasn't a destiny their father had chosen that they tried to carry out. It was the destiny they had chosen themselves, because in all their wisdom and all their knowledge, they still couldn't understand.

So when Lucifer was freed from the Cage by the brother whose life was so close to the ones of His first children, the war started again. And still they didn't understand. They fought with righteousness that wasn't theirs to feel. The only Angels that saw and used what they had never wanted were killed or fell from Grace.

In the end it wasn't power, destiny or Grace that ended the Apocalypse. It was determination and love that in the end decided the fate of everyone. The Angels had never taken the brothers and their Angels seriously because none of them had ever understood that the only thing that mattered was love and a free will.

God, still loving His children even though they had disappointed Him, decided to give them a second chance. They would be given the chance to learn and the chance to make things right.

Some would have said that there would never be a way for Michael and Lucifer to forgive but God knew that they still loved each other. And if the apocalypse had proven one thing, it was that love, no matter what form it took, could change everything.
Chapter 1

“What the fuck?”

Chuck clutched his throbbing head and tried to remember how much alcohol it had been exactly that he had drunk last night. It hadn't been that much. Right? Or maybe he just couldn't remember. Which was actually much more likely. That still didn't explain why he had two guys on the floor of his living room.

Two guys who looked far too much like Nick – Lucifer's temporary vessel – and the young version of John Winchester – who had been a vessel for Michael as he had stopped Anna. Fuck. If those really were the two top dickheads of the Apocalypse in his living room he was way beyond screwed. Seriously, why did it always have to be him?

Being a prophet already sucked enough but now it seemed the freaking Apocalypse would start after all, in his house. Awesome, having his house blown to pieces by an archangel once had really been enough. And this time no one would care if he got smote with it.

Nick – Chuck still hoped against all odds that this wasn't Lucifer – groaned and suddenly it was really hard not to panic and just run from the room screaming. He had never been one of the braver people and it had already been hard enough with being a marginal figure and having to watch everything.

But it was a whole different thing to have the two archangels lying on his floor. Okay, Chuck noticed that he was really, really close to freaking out and forced himself to take slow but still shaky breaths. Fuck. His head was hurting; he had two unconscious archangels and no liquor in sight. Just fuck!

“Okay. Calm down, Chuck. Just calm down,” he mumbled to himself, fumbling nervously with his worn bathrobe. “What happened last night? C'mon, buddy, remember.” He had started to pace while he desperately tried to make his head work out something – anything for that matter. But yesterday was still in a haze and he really couldn't remember anything after his... after some drink. He had long ago stopped counting how many. Probably around the time the whole creepy vision stuff started. Getting drunk was actually the only way to get them out of his head. And it was a very efficient one.

“There was something right?” His hand went to his hair and he pulled at it frantically while he tried to force some sort of memory to the surface. “I know there was something. What happened...? What...?”

He really felt the urge to throw something against a wall. Nothing. He came up with nothing no matter how hard he tried to remember. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That's just peachy. Fuck!”

“Hey!” A gruff voice made him spin around only to nearly land on the ground. As soon as he had a stable footing again he searched for the source of the voice. Which was whom he had suspected. Lucifer. No not Lucifer – Nick! 'Please let it be Nick. Please let it be Nick.'

“Where am I? Who are you? And what is Michael doing here?” The man – well rather angel since his praying hadn't done any good and this was Lucifer – demanded to know. Chuck flinched as Lucifer got to his feet and inspected his surroundings, only to let his gaze return to the squirming prophet.

He sauntered through the living room like he owned it, ignoring Michael but getting closer and closer to Chuck who tried to back off until his back hit the wall. “Um...” He stuttered, fucking scared to death. Where was the damn archangel to the rescue this time huh? Well not that he would be much use against Lucifer anyway. “I'm... I don't know? Really, dude, I'm sorry I can't remember. I was...”

A glare made him shut up and wasn't that just great? He had just called the devil 'dude'. A sarcastic voice in the back of his head congratulated him for being that stupid. But something else seemed to bother Lucifer because he tilted his head to the side, frowning at nothing in particular. Chuck didn't even care what he was thinking about, he was just glad that his attention wasn't on him anymore. That was when the other man on his floor began to stir.

Awesome... Apocalypse here we come!

Michael sat up and stared at his surroundings bewildered. Well at least he didn't threaten Chuck as soon as he saw him; instead he was just staring at him, obviously wondering about something. For the second time in a far too short period Chuck found himself on the receiving end of the intense stare of an archangel. They could really freak one out with that damn glare!

“You're the prophet.” That drew Lucifer's attention from whatever he had been thinking about to the other archangel, and for a short moment Chuck thought he saw pain on the angel's face. Yeah right, more likely the remnants of the alcohol playing tricks on his mind.

As no one said anything and the stares grew more intense he figured they wanted him to say something. “Uh... I... Yeah?” Great he wasn't even able to form a coherent sentence but that was nothing new.

Lucifer made a step forward which led to Chuck trying to stumble backwards only to notice that his back was already against the wall. He probably really looked like a deer caught in the headlight. “The prophet who is responsible for writing the Winchester Gospel?” Lucifer demanded to know, still with his 'I'm gonna smite you now'-voice. It really wasn't hard to believe him.

Chuck found himself nodding but he was ignored again. Thanks, God! Wait... God... Fuck... There was something and it was involving God or something. Fuck. He had totally blended out the two angels who would jump-start the end of the world, again trying to desperately remember. He just knew that God had something to do with it but he couldn't bring his hung-over brain to tell him what.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he found himself face to face with a too concerned looking Michael. “Hey. You okay?” He asked and the genuine worry in his eyes was just wrong! Absentmindedly Chuck noticed he was shaking but he couldn't bring himself to care. He would be smote or exploded in a matter of seconds anyway.

“Don't waste your time with the mud monkey!” Lucifer snarled, which made Chuck flinch. The way Michael squeezed his shoulder wasn't helping either, even if it was meant to reassure him.

“Calm down, Lucifer,” Michael all but snarled back.

Chuck really wished he could just disappear or die. Right now he didn't care. Being caught between to snarling archangels was definitely worse than dying. “Our grace is gone and you're still trying to be Daddy's obedient little soldier? If He cared about you; He wouldn't have gotten you out of the cage to dump you as a human in the house of a spavined prophet!”

Normally he might be insulted by being called spavined but right now Chuck was far too scared to be offended by pretty much anything. He felt like he needed a bottle of alcohol right now or he would probably faint like a little girl.

The Winchester's might be able to insult archangels and not panic but Chuck had never been that kind of person. Which was probably a good thing since he knew first hand how it had ended for the brave hunters and angels. Not that he was much happier than them. At least they had a reason for being messed up.

A shouting Lucifer accompanied by a fist colliding with a wall brought Chuck back to reality. He really needed to stop zoning out in the middle of conversations. Or shouting matches. He forced himself to focus and at the same time, under no circumstances, in any way even so much as look at the archangels since they seemed to have forgotten he was even there. Which was a good thing. A very good thing.

For a brief moment his eyes were on his computer. His computer... Oh... Suddenly forgetting his fear Chuck pushed past Michael, registering the yelp that got out of Michael just vaguely. All his attention was focused on his computer, which was – thank God for that – still turned on.

Whenever something from upstairs came in or he had another vision, he would type it down, no matter how drunk he was. It had really freaked him out in the beginning to have entire chapters written without remembering. He had learned to appreciate it though since it came in quite handy most of the time.

He hadn't had to worry to miss anything since he could get drunk and earn his money – or as he later found out write the next part of the bible. Now this could really come in handy and hopefully make the two archangels disappear. Even though Chuck seriously doubted that would happen. Not with his luck.

He opened a minimized document, which only held a few sentences. Which didn't make them less terrifying or devastating. It took Chuck a few moments to pull himself together and fight back the urge to get altogether blitzed. This... this... What the hell had he done to deserve something like this?

“Hey.” His soft word didn't seem to reach Lucifer and Michael, who had started to argue again. Or maybe they were just ignoring him. “HEY!” He suddenly shouted much to his own surprise. Both angels turned their heads and glared at him but Chuck all of a sudden felt far to numb to care about those deadly looks.

He couldn't bring his mouth to open and form any sort of coherent sentence so he just gestured at the monitor. After a moment both archangels came closer, looking weary despite the fact that a hung-over prophet wasn't really a threat.

The words on the screen on the other hand were one all the more.

“Lucifer and Michael have been given a second chance. They will remain human until they understand. They are bound to you. Don't try to break the bindings. They are your responsibility.”
Chapter 2

Chuck did understand that both of the angels were angry, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about the shouting match taking place in his living room.

After being in denial – which meant staring intensely into the distance when they tried to mojo themselves out of here – anger had taken over fast. First at God, which led to rather loud and inventive curses both of them threw at their father. Even Michael didn't seem to be the obedient little soldier anymore, joining his voice with Lucifer to damn their father.

The prophet was pretty happy most of the things they said were in languages he never even heard because he really didn't need to hear what exactly they were saying. He knew Michael and Lucifer were dicks but he wasn't cold enough to not feel sorry for them as he heard the pain and incomprehension, the fear and the loneliness.

Michael was worse than Lucifer. The Devil mostly sounded angry and bitter while Michael... it was heart breaking. Even though Chuck didn't understand what he said, he knew it was a child asking his father why He had abandoned him, what he had done.

At first it had been better when they had turned to each other and started to throw accusations and insults at each other. But by now it seemed like since neither of them could use their grace; a fist-fight would break out.

Powerless archangels beating one another to death on his carpet definitely hadn't been on his list of things to do on a Wednesday. Or any other day for that matter. The only possibility to stop them from really starting a fist-fight was to actually talk to them.

Which wasn't something Chuck looked forward to either. The whole time he had tried to be as unnoticeable as possible. Even without their power, they were still archangels, old beings who were still very intimidating.

One of those intimidating beings was currently hurling Chuck's table lamp at the other one and for one surreal moment, Chuck thought about the Apocalypse and how it was no wonder that those two would have destroyed the whole earth in their fight. They didn't even manage to have an argument without destroying his living room. Chuck really hoped they didn't plan on staying all that long because he doubted his house would still be standing in the end.

“Lucifer!” He shouted, surprised and a bit shocked – yeah he shouldn't be – when the archangel actually threw his lamp and hit Michael, knocking the other angel over, who yelped in pain as he hit the floor.

When Chuck rushed around his sofa to take a look at Michael, he nearly tripped over his own feet but he managed to stay upright even though his display definitely amused Lucifer. The Devil didn't look very guilty, even though Michael was groaning and holding his head while blood flowed from a cut on his forehead. “Great... Just great,” Chuck murmured as he knelt down beside the wounded archangel-gone-human.

It felt odd to touch Michael, somehow not right and on the other hand completely normal just like if he was touching any other person. Only this wasn't any other person. If he was unlucky – and he had tended to be lately – Michael had a concussion and needed to see a doctor and this couldn't end well.

“You... okay?” He asked uneasily, his eyes fixed on the cut which didn't seem to be too deep but he had never been dealing with wounds before and he couldn't really assess it. For one moment he wished the Winchesters were here, they surely would know what to do. But this wish only lasted until he realized that if the Winchesters were here it would probably end with two corpses in his living room. And as much as he disliked the two archangels or rather ex-archangels he didn't want any corpses in his living room or anywhere else for that matter.

“It... hurts.”

Michael sounded rather surprised than actually pained but Chuck guessed that was because this was the first time the other man had really hurt. Lucifer scoffed, stepping closer and fixing his icy glare on Chuck who felt increasingly uneasy. “I never took you for someone to whine and pity yourself.”

When Michael shook his head and swayed in the process, clutching his head even more. “It's different.” Different wasn't the word Chuck used to describe the situation, his word went more in the direction of 'screwed up'. It really looked like Lucifer gave Michael a concussion when he hit him in the head with his fucking lamp.

And Chuck wasn't Dean or Sam. He didn't know how to deal with stuff like this. What if the cut needed stitches? Or if his skull was cracked? Hey, you never knew and Lucifer definitely didn't have any clue how much force he used now that he was human.

“Okay Michael, I'm going to take you to a doctor!” Chuck announced, sounding even more nervous than he normally did. Both of the other men, angels, whatever looked at him like he had gone mad before Lucifer started to laugh loudly.

“You humans are so petty...” he started but Chuck actually felt confident enough to snap at him, even though Lucifer was still scary, human or not.

“You're one too now so get used to it and you just gave him a damn concussion.”

“A what?” Michael asked meekly from the ground, still holding his head and still bleeding onto Chuck's floor.

“A concussion. For angels you sure don't know a lot of things,” Chuck grumbled, surprised by his own anger but he guessed it was a good thing he spoke up to those idiots, so he decided to go with it as long as it lasted.

He grabbed Michael's arm and urged him to get up before Lucifer decided that hitting someone with a lamp really wasn't that bad and Chuck was his next victim. It was harder than it looked to get Michael to his feet, which might be due to his lack of muscles. He had never been particularly strong but once he got Michael standing he was actually able to keep the other man upright and stumble towards the door with him.

As Chuck noticed that Lucifer was about to follow him he took the time to glare at him – and be frightened by the glare he received in return. “You stay here,” he demanded with more force than he actually felt. Even without a lamp in his hand to bash someone's skull in Lucifer was scary. He was The Devil after all, human or not, so who could blame Chuck?

It surprised him to see worry edged into Lucifer's face as he watched a swaying Michael and Chuck struggling to keep the other one upright. Suddenly he didn't look all that superior and cold anymore. The eyes, normally intimidating, had a lost look in them and even though Lucifer stood tall it had nothing left of his normal ease. Michael seemed to have seen it too – or rather wanted to avoid seeing it since he kept his eyes on the floor and didn't even look up as Chuck began maneuvering him through the books, clothes and trash laying on his floor.

Normally he didn't give a shit but right now he felt a bit ashamed that his house looked like this. Even though he could always blame Michael and Lucifer. After all they had thrown his furniture through the room.

As he reached the door Chuck wondered if he should get changed out of his bathrobes or actually wear real shoes but a look at Michael's tired face showed him that the other man wouldn't get up if he got the chance to sit down again. So what the hell, Chuck just grabbed his keys and put them in one of the pockets of his robe before opening the door. The neighbors would start talking about him again but frankly he didn't give a shit. He had to deal with Michael and Lucifer for fuck's sake. No one could expect him to actually give a shit about his appearance.

It was cold outside even though it was already May and the strong spring winds made his robe flutter behind him. He shuddered, feeling Michael by his side do the exact same thing. But it wasn't too far to the doctor and he so wouldn't go back in now.

He already dreaded the way through the empty, cold and windy streets to the doctor when he felt a small tug. He didn't know what it was and just ignored it, walking forward body slumped against the wind. Michael was shivering but it wasn't the wind or the cold that made them stop but the pull, which got stronger with every step they got away from the house.

It grew from irritating to downright painful and it got harder and harder to ignore it until Chuck decided he sure as hell wouldn't move any further. He could have but he was never one to fight that much against pain, he wasn't the Winchesters after all. If something hurt it meant you had to stop. A bewildered Michael looked at him, head tipped slightly through the side as the cold wind messed up his black hair. It was far too cold for May but apparently the spring didn't feel the need to show up all that often yet. “Is it always that painful to be human?” he asked, eyes big with wonder.

God he was adorable. Chuck frowned. He didn't just think about Michael, the fucking Archangel and call him adorable. Right? If there had been any surface he could reach Chuck would have banged his head against it out of sheer frustration. “No it isn't. Something's wrong there. C'mon let's head back.”

Chuck tugged Michael back towards the house and with every step they took back, the pain in their chests eased. It was like whatever this was tugged them back to the house and would only give in if they went back.

To Chuck's surprise the pain eased faster than it had come, leaving them completely halfway to the house – where Chuck found himself face to face with Lucifer. He had been so focused on his feet and Michael that he really hadn't looked out for what was there in front of him. A very undignified squeal escaped him – which he would deny later – as he looked up into the Devil's eyes.

“What did you do?” He demanded to know, hand going to his chest absentmindedly. Chuck's eyes widened as he realized Lucifer had to be speaking about the same tugging pain Michael and he had experienced moments before. “Uh... Me? I didn't do anything.”

Lucifer scowled at him and by his clenched fists Chuck suspected he would be less lucky if Lucifer actually still had his powers but thankfully he didn't seem to prone on hitting someone – again. The accusation alone was completely ridiculous. He was a prophet and not some witch who could do big things with her mojo. The only thing he could do was get drunk and have visions of the end of the world. And apparently get stuck with two archangels because someone up there clearly hated him.

“M... maybe um... let's get back inside?” He suggested, now fully aware of the strange looks his neighbors gave them. He wouldn't be surprised if the police turned up soon. Lucifer snorted and didn't even look at him a second time before storming back into the house, clearly disapproving of whatever Chuck just did – or didn't do.

Michael was still heavily leaning against Chuck, his head resting on his shoulder by now. Which had to look even weirder since Michael was about ten centimeters taller than Chuck. But the prophet decided not to comment and ask Michael to act less intimate, he really wasn't up for the discussions that probably would follow.

Chuck just made his way back to his house, deciding that he really needed to work out or something because his legs were shaking by the time he was trying to haul Michael up the stairs to his house. Michael clearly didn't feel like he was supposed to help since he barely even moved his feet. Chuck was about ready to give it up when suddenly Lucifer appeared once more right before him.

If he wasn't sure that the guy would have left as soon as he got the chance Chuck would have sworn that he still had his angel mojo. Wordlessly Lucifer grabbed Michael and with ease that made Chuck a bit jealous manhandled the other angel into the living room and onto the couch.

It was surprising that there was a certain kind of care coming from Lucifer as he put Michael on the couch, making sure his head rested on a cushion and he didn't lie on his wound. But as fast as the care had shown, it disappeared again and Lucifer stalked away to stare out of the window once more.

Chuck knelt down next to Michael who had closed his eyes and seemed to be ready to go to sleep. For a moment he hesitated, not sure what to do but his fear was overridden by the feeling that he was obligated to do something to make sure he was alright. Damn conscience!

“Um...” he muttered, heart actually pounding even though Michael was just a human and a very weak one at the moment too. “Are you okay?” He taunted himself silently; since it was obvious Michael was not okay, so try again, Chuck! “I mean how do you feel?”

Michael's eyes fluttered open and he locked them with Chuck's practically captivating him in their brown depth. “I don't know.” Okay... that was for sure not the answer he had thought he would get.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“I don't know which words to use.” Chuck looked at him baffled, his hand fidgeting nervously in his lap while an apparently somehow hurt on the head archangel was telling him he had forgotten words.

“Um... that's not... well...”

Lucifer jumped into the conversation in that moment, giving Chuck a glare that clearly said he was as low as you could get in his eyes, which could actually be true but the prophet made sure not to think to much about it normally. “What Michael is trying to tell you, Prophet,” – how could one word be filled with so much disdain? – “is that he isn't used to feeling all those human oddities and in result isn't able to name them.”

“Oh... so you never felt... anything body wise when you were angels?” Lucifer just snorted, ignoring him again as if he was some kind of insect and let's face it, if Lucifer got the chance to stomp on him he would. Chuck had already resigned himself to not getting an answer but suddenly he heard Michael's quiet voice from the couch.

“Pain. Angels can feel pain.” Chuck turned to the archangel and found that he really didn't look human right at that moment but like the very old being he was.

“And that's it? I mean you are never hungry? Or thirsty? Or horny?”

He heard Lucifer snort somewhere in the background but decided that it was better to just ignore him because he wouldn't hear anything useful from him anyway, Lucifer wouldn't speak with him unless his life depended on it – or Michael's.

“No, we don't get hungry or thirsty. But we can take pleasure in those things if we decide to indulge them. And we can indeed get horny. We seldom act on it though.” Chuck felt the sudden urge to blush especially at the playfulness gleaming in Michael's eyes.

It took a few moments for Chuck to get his thoughts away from the mental image of fucking angels – and he shouldn't think in that way of Michael and Lucifer of all people or rather angels. Especially the playful glint in Michael's eyes had thrown him out of his train of thoughts, it almost seemed like the angel was flirting with him. But that was impossible and before he could start to obsess over it he forced his thoughts away and towards the rest Michael had told him.

“Wait you never felt hunger or thirst?” he asked, nervousness suddenly just forgotten. Michael shook his head slightly, giving him an openly curious look. “That means you haven't eaten or drank anything the whole day?”

Again Michael shook his head but this time Lucifer reacted too, turning around and staring at him accusingly as if that was his entire fault. Which it wasn't. “We don't need to eat or drink.” He scowled, acting like Chuck was the stupid child and he the not so patient teacher.

“You need to now,” Chuck replied again cured from his insecurity, as he for once knew that he was right. “You're human now, Lucifer, that means you've human needs. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Going to the toilet.”

Again the accusing look occurred, apparently he was God or something since Lucifer seemed to think it really was his fault, however that was supposed to be possible. “I will not act like a lowly human!” Lucifer growled and this time Chuck really felt the anger rise. He wasn't gonna let the archangel starve himself to death just because he felt too high to be even bothered with something so mundane.

“You are going to eat and drink, sleep and go to the fucking toilet!” he growled actually surprising himself by how... aggressive he could be. “If you wanna kill yourself, fine but not in my goddamn house! I'll not bury your corpse in my garden!”

Lucifer just gave him one last depreciative look before turning around and just stalking out of the house. Chuck wasn't sure if he should be happy about it or worried. Happy because he didn't have to deal with that lunatic anymore, worried because he had just sent the archangel-turned-human to torment the world. Which definitely couldn't end well.

But before he could even think about worrying about the destruction even a human Lucifer could cause he felt the tug that sadly started to became familiar. At first it was just that, a tug but soon it turned painful and he groaned in his chest. Fuck!

If he could get himself to move instead of curl into a ball, leaning against the couch he would follow Lucifer to drag him back in here. But fuck the pain got intense and he couldn't do anything, just pressed into a tight ball right next to Michael. Along the way breathing had gotten hard and he made little pained noises in the back of his throat. Some little voice in the back of his head told him he totally would have to deny them later; Lucifer would never let him live that down. Except for the fact Lucifer wasn't even here.

Somehow in the back of his mind he noticed a hand that started to stroke through his hair in an unsuccessful attempt to ease some of the pain. He didn't know whose hand it was – really there was actually only one person in the room but he couldn't think straight – and frankly he didn't care. The only thing he cared for was for this pain to stop!

It did stop, at first slowly easing and then suddenly disappearing completely. It took him some time to process this though. The hand kept stroking through his hair the whole time and as he realized that in fact he didn't hurt anymore he also slowly got aware of someone speaking soothing words. Instinctively he leaned into the hand, relishing its touch.

Chuck didn't understand the words though; they were spoken in some foreign language he didn't understand. But that didn't matter; it was the voice in which they were spoken that made him calm down and not the words itself. He felt better, actually he felt really good.

That was until Lucifer's sneering voice cut through the soft words. “Don't be all cozy around him, Michael. He's just a lousy human, he can't even bear pain!”

Chuck stayed silent because yes that was true – sadly. He was bad at dealing with pain; he really, really sucked at it. And anyway he didn't need to deal with pain. He was a writer, a Prophet for fuck's sake and not a hunter or some other stupid thing.

“Don't be too harsh on him,” Michael reproved softly, still petting Chuck's hair. It probably looked really weird, him on the floor being petted by the guy on the sofa but he didn't care right now. It felt too good and he still needed to calm his breathing down.

“You expect me to go easy on him just because we're stuck here?” Lucifer growled and once more Chuck wondered how one human being could put so much disdain in his voice all the time. It was like he didn't think anyone but him was worthy of anything. And since this was Lucifer it could very well be the case.

“Stuck here?” Chuck croaked out, straightening up a bit to not look quite that pathetic. Apparently it didn't impress Lucifer in the least since the ex-archangel didn't even look at him.

“I know you probably haven't noticed it, but yes indeed we're stuck here with you since we can't be apart too much without experiencing this inconvenient pain.”

Yeah right, inconvenient! Only Lucifer could pull that off! It fucking hurt! “Great. Just... great.” Chuck muttered, head falling against the couch where Michael kept stroking his hair. For what reason, Chuck didn't know but he wasn't going to complain. It sure as hell helped against the headache that started to form thanks to all this shit happening to him.

On days like this he really hated his life.

Masterpost | part 2
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