cashay: (Lucifer)
[personal profile] cashay

Chapter 9

When Chuck awoke the next morning, he woke alone. It startled him how fast he had gotten used to two bodies in bed with him and how much he missed it now. He wondered what had stopped them from fighting over who could sleep with him in bed.

Tiredly, Chuck made his way down into the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee only to realize that they had very likely fought about who would sleep in bed with him but hadn't even come to a decision of who would sleep closer to him.

He made that conclusion based on the fact that both of them were sleeping on the floor in front of the stairs. They probably hadn't trusted the other one enough to sleep in separate rooms, fearing that the other would go upstairs and do... whatever.

Chuck really had no idea what their problem was but if it hadn't been such an impossible idea he would have bet that they were rivaling for his affection and attention. But yeah, that was impossible.

Hopefully. Otherwise Chuck was pretty sure he was screwed.


When breakfast time came around, Chuck was confronted with the possibility that the impossible wasn't all that impossible after all. After all the things he wrote about and had seen himself, he shouldn't have been too surprised.

Chuck sat on the couch, head in his hands while he listened to Lucifer and Michael fighting over who would make him breakfast. He only waited for them to start throwing plates and glasses at each other, but he guessed that would have defeated what they wanted to achieve.

After a while the shouting stopped and Chuck could only hope that both of them were still alive.

When a pissed off Michael stormed out of the kitchen a few moments later, he at least knew that he was still alive, but that didn't make the situation any better. In fact it sucked even more.

He really, really wished they would just leave him alone, both of them, until they had figured out their problems, whatever those actually were.

Feeling exhausted even though he had slept enough last night, Chuck simply stayed on the couch, head in his hands and waited for the inevitable screaming match to continue.

When Lucifer brought him his breakfast he forced himself to eat a few bites, but most of the food stayed untouched on the plate. He knew he was hurting Lucifer by kind of refusing to eat his food but he felt like he was going to be sick if he ate more.

He hated to admit it but this whole stupid fight the two of them were having was affecting him too.

Just as he had predicted Lucifer reacted with worry when Chuck told him he was done with breakfast, and with hurt. It was like Chuck had just told him he hated him instead of simply not finishing his plate.

Lucifer stormed out just like Michael had done half an hour earlier and Chuck felt like screaming a bit himself. But he knew if he started screaming both of them would come right back and after they had made sure he was okay would probably start fighting again.

So, instead of screaming, Chuck settled for stealing some of Michael's chocolate and curling up in his bed with it. He didn't even touch the alcohol that was still hidden beneath his bed; he didn't want another hangover. Especially since it would mean he would give Michael and Lucifer something to fight about again.

The prophet was surprised that he wasn't just so frustrated because the two ex-archangels were annoying him but also because he was genuinely missing what they had had before.

He had been alone for most of his adult life, with the short exception of Becky – who had soon realized what a loser he actually was – and not being alone had turned out to be a wonderful thing.

As strange as things had been before, they still had settled into a routine and after the first exhausting weeks living with them had been nice. It had felt good, like home. And while their relationship had been strained in the beginning it had improved so much Chuck had nearly forgotten that Michael and Lucifer had been supposed to kill each other and bring about the Apocalypse.

It was frustrating, especially since he had seen what they actually were like, how much affection was buried under the hate that wasn't really felt but kept up out of obligation.

By now the Prophet was pretty sure that Michael kept acting so hostile against Lucifer because he felt like he would betray his father and the Host if he didn't hate him. Lucifer obviously had no obligation to anyone and didn't really care what anyone thought about him. Instead Chuck had realized he was afraid of being pushed away again once he had let someone in, just like it had happened now.

Chuck wasn't sure if his assumptions were true but it made sense. It had to be hard to trust anyone after being thrown into a cage by your own family where you had to stay an eternity entirely alone.

But even more then the domestic routines they had set in, Chuck missed the affection. Especially the last few weeks when Michael and Lucifer had dared to allow each other closer and not only in the physical sense.

If Chuck had ever thought much about how others thought of him, he would have probably never admitted to himself that most of all he missed Lucifer and Michael being affectionate towards him.

Not just one of them, but both of them. They had always acted like he was something special and breakable, and when the only physical affection someone got was from hookers and fangirls, that was something overwhelming.

He missed them. They were in the same house but still Chuck missed them. Because both Michael and Lucifer had slipped back into roles that really weren't themselves but rather how they were supposed to act.

It was sickening and Chuck felt an overwhelming sense of sadness at the thought what had forced two beings who so clearly loved each other to know only hate. Of all the monsters he had seen, God was probably the cruelest one. He had thought so before, but never with such vengeance. Now it was personal.

Chuck was astonished how easily he accepted that he felt more than friendship for the two ex-archangels in his home. The feeling had been there quite a while and acknowledging them didn't make him feel much different. It felt like a weight had been taken from him but there wasn't even a hint of panic.

Remembering the way he had freaked out when Dean and Sam stood at his doorstep, he was a bit surprised by his indifference.

But things had changed. He had seen so much and no one ever realized that when he had his visions he didn't just see it like something on television. No, every time he had a vision it felt like he had been sucked right inside. He was there, only he couldn't do anything, he just stood there and watched.

It had been bad enough when he thought them just to be really vivid dreams. But realizing that everything he saw would come true had made it far worse.

By now he had simply grown tired. Tired of watching people die and not being able to do a damn thing. Tired of documenting events he couldn't change. Tired of being alone.

Chuck yearned for peace and a home. Michael and Lucifer had offered both. He had found a solace with them that he hadn't known. And while he still drank too much, was clumsy and the most socially awkward person in the world he had felt better.

The amount of alcohol he consumed might indicate he was self-destructive. But actually he wasn't, it was just his way of coping with things. But now something different had been dropped into his lap.

Something precious and special, which was far better than alcohol could ever be. He didn't want to loose it; he didn't want to be alone again. Though Chuck had cursed God for dropping them off in his house at first, he was now afraid of loosing them.

Which led him to the conclusion that he would have to man up and force Lucifer and Michael to confront their problems or the growing thing they had between them would be damaged beyond repair. And he couldn't risk that.

Chapter 10
Though he had decided to man up and tell them to stop bitching at each other, Chuck had no real idea how to accomplish that, especially without being subjected to their rage. Even though they were now human, they still had that air of divine wrath around them whenever they get really pissed.

So instead of actually doing anything he ended up staying in bed for the rest of the day, since he was sure that was the only place he wouldn't accidentally bump into Lucifer or Michael.

He was pretty sure if any of them dared to try and enter his bedroom, the other one would do everything in his power to stop him.

That thought didn't make him feel better in the least. He just curled up tighter under his blanket and agonized about how he could make them stop fighting.

He should probably just tell them but beside their anger he mostly feared that they wouldn't listen to him and things would get only worse. There had to be a way that would surely make them stop but he couldn't think of one.

Chuck grew angry with himself, he was an author for God's sake; it shouldn't be so hard to find the right words. Words that were powerful enough to make them reconsider and see how much they hurt themselves and each other.

But as much as he tried – he even started writing them down after a while – he never came up with anything he thought strong enough to actually stop and think about. For as different as Michael and Lucifer were, both of them were prideful and both of them were stubborn and by simply pointing out what they were doing wrong, Chuck would gain nothing. They would never listen to him.

Frustrated and a bit depressed, Chuck finally gave up his futile attempt to find something to say to the ex-archangel when his stomach couldn't be ignored any longer. He was hungry but he had lost his appetite sometime during the last day and it hadn't had the decency to show up again.

The prophet figured he would simply find himself some toast and eat it before he returned to the task that was still brooding in the back of his mind. But when he entered the kitchen, he found Michael and Lucifer there, deeply engaged in what looked like a staring contest of epic proportions.

As soon as he entered the room their heads snapped around and their intense gazes fixed on him. Chuck really wished he had ignored his stupid body and stayed in bed.

He already contemplated fleeing back to his room but he had to accept that it was too late to return to safety when both Michael and Lucifer started talking at the same time.

"I'm going to make you dinner." - "What would you like for dinner?"

Without even waiting for Chuck's reply, Michael and Lucifer turned to take up the glaring again, everything in their body so openly hostile that Chuck was actually worried they would try and kill each other this time.

"Get out of my way, Michael," Lucifer spat at him before shoving Michael in the direction of the door.

But Michael grabbed Lucifer's arm instead and spun him around, grabbing both of his arms in a grip that would certainly leave bruises. "You have no right to tell me what to do, traitor," he snapped in return.

"Oh, but aren't you going to be lost without someone giving your orders? Dad's little pet."

Lucifer didn't make any move to raise his hand against Michael and for that Chuck was more than grateful. It was bad enough that they were insulting each other again he really didn't feel up to breaking up a fist-fight too.

Michael pushed Lucifer back and pressed past him. "I'm going to make dinner for Chuck now, he should never have to eat something that has been touched by someone as tainted as you."

"At least he can eat my food without being poisoned. If you wanted to kill him there are more merciful ways," Lucifer replied, never one to just take an insult.

"Everything you touch is poisoned!" Michael spat at him, all his righteous fury on display again.

"Everything I touch is free. Everything you touch is enslaved and forced to obey a Father that would rather see us tortured and burning than alive."

"You insolent little brat, you..." but Michael didn't finish his sentence because this was the moment Chuck couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop," he whispered, but apparently that was enough to make Michael and Lucifer do what he asked of them and turn all their attention to him.

The anger he had felt at his own failures to find the right words had faded in the face of their stupid fight and had been replaced by a bone deep wariness. Lucifer was acting like a brat, that was true but so was Michael. And Chuck simply couldn't take it anymore.

Especially since they were fighting about him now, in his books things couldn't get much more stupid than that. And they weren't even really fighting about him, it was more like an excuse to continue the fight they had been destined to lead by finding out who of them would get what both of them clearly wanted.

He certainly didn't want to be part of this anymore. Chuck simply wanted Michael and Lucifer back, his Michael and Lucifer, the ones he had come to love – as stupid as it was to love archangels – especially the two who had been supposed to fight each other to death while bringing about the apocalypse.

"Stop!" He said, his voice louder this time. "I don't want you fighting about me. I don't want you fighting at all. Either you stop fighting or neither one of you is ever going to come close to me again."

Before they could protest or he could panic about how foolish and stupid he sounded, Chuck turned around and fled the kitchen.

Back in his room he felt like banging his head against the wall. This was certainly not the genius speech he had wanted to give them. Why the hell should they stop fighting now? They certainly wouldn't do so just because he told them too.

He had wanted to remind them how much they obviously loved each other. How destiny had long stopped being important, how the fight was over and they didn't need to hate each other anymore. He had wanted to remind them that now they were as free to choose as humans, because they were humans and they didn't need to bother with the way of the angels anymore.

Instead he had simply told them to stop because he didn't want them to fight and because if they continued neither was allowed close to him again.

"Way to go, oh big, eloquent author," he murmured into his empty room, contemplating if drinking was worth the risk of a hangover and thus Michael and Lucifer feeling the need to compete about who could best take care of him again. He didn't believe that they would take his threat seriously.

And every time he was in a mood like this – which was more often than he cared to think about – he couldn't stop drinking even if he knew that he would be screwed in the morning. And feeling a lot more awful than he had before.

He decided against taking the risk of having to deal with the two stupid ex-archangels again while he was renewing his friendship with the toilet. Not in the mood to read or listen to music he ended up curled up in his bed, waiting for sleep to come.

Chuck lay awake for many more hours but in the early morning he finally fell into a dreamless slumber.

Chapter 11
When Chuck woke, he felt two familiar bodies pressed close to him. Still half asleep he snuggled closer to the body to his right, which prompted to other one to move closer until Chuck was practically sandwiched between two strong and definitely male bodies.

That realization was enough to wake him up completely and have him sitting in bed within seconds. For a moment he wondered if he should worry that the only thing that had frightened him was that Lucifer and Michael had ignored his words.


Michael's worried voice made him look down and meet the nervous eyes of the two men in his bed. It was nearly comical how they seemed to want his approval. Of all people in the world, Chuck probably was one of the worst to want approval from. He didn't even approve of himself.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded to know, his voice harsher than intended.

Michael and Lucifer exchanged an insecure glance and Chuck was hit with the realization that they really seemed afraid of him. But that was hideous. Even more than hideous it was... impossible.

And yet fear was clearly visible on their faces, which were lit by the morning sun that shone through the not completely closed curtains.

After a long and more than awkward silence, which led Chuck to the wish he had drank himself to sleep last night – at least then he would have an excuse to run away and hide now – it was Lucifer who spoke.

"We stopped fighting. I... we thought... now we could return to your bed."

Like everything Lucifer said, those words were spoken with an intonation that would have been more fitting if he declared the end of the world. Maybe he had tried to get a tone like that just for the Apocalypse and now he couldn't stop speaking like this. Being able to speak like that would be fun, especially when telemarketers called. He should get himself a voice like that too...

The awkward fidgeting that came from Michael made him realized that his thoughts had completely drifted away from the conversation and he had left Lucifer and Michael hanging.

"You have stopped fighting?" He enquired, wanting to make sure his tired mind hadn't fooled him.

"Yes," came the answer from both of them.

"For good?" He wanted to make sure they intended to keep it up for longer than a day.

"We have no reason to believe differently," Michael declared and somehow he managed that grave "the world is ending and you are all doomed"-voice too.

Chuck forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand and stop thinking about epic voices by snuggling back under the blanket between them. It felt good and right in a way Chuck didn't want to think about too much.

"In that case you are welcome in my bed." A bit saddened, he realized that his voice sounded rather silly instead of mighty.

But the fact that Michael and Lucifer were both practically curling around him after he had spoken them and were holding him tight made up for that lack of epic voice powers. It made up for a lot of things, and Chuck decided that he could probably dispense with everything he had ever wanted as long as he could stay right here in their arms.

Lucifer was lying on his back and Chuck on him, his head pillowed on Lucifer's shoulder and one arm draped over his stomach. Michael was lying behind him or rather on him, but Chuck found he didn't mind all that much. Not when both Lucifer and Michael were humming softly, and he could feel Michael smile where his mouth pressed against his neck.

Without really thinking about it he turned his head to press a kiss against Lucifer's forehead and hastily turned the other way to do the same with Michael before his brain caught up.

Based on the startled expressions on both of their faces and the pleased smiles that replaced them, as well as the tightening hold and the two answering kisses he got in return, Chuck decided that this had certainly been the right thing to do.

It was weird to be in bed with them and be wide-awake. It was a good weird though, and Chuck found he really enjoyed sharing his bed with someone, or rather two certain someones.

Still he tried not to think about it too much, after all he didn't want himself to have another panic attack and do something stupid. It was too nice right now and things in his life normally weren't nice at all. He wanted to enjoy it this once and not think about consequences or things he ought to, or ought not to do.

Lucifer and Michael seemed to agree if the way they were holding on to him was any indication.


Things changed after that. For one, the fighting had stopped and that was definitely an improvement. Another thing was that now the two ex-archangels were even more attentive towards him than when they had been fighting.

Chuck was a bit overwhelmed by two grown and very old beings focusing their attention solely on him, well, and on themselves but while they seemed to have settled whatever had been standing between them, they were still hesitant to show too much affection towards each other.

Instead they practically pampered Chuck with everything they could think of. Which were a lot of things, after all they were ancient beings, and Chuck doubted there were very few things they couldn't think of.

Chuck tried his best to give them back as much as they gave. He bought them gifts, cooking utensils, spices and cookbooks for Lucifer, while Michael got bought all sorts of candy, tools for the garden, books about gardening and seeds.

He was hesitant with the physical attention at first. Snuggling with them when they pulled him on the couch or in the bed they now all three shared was one thing, but reaching out to stroke through their hair or pet their cheek or hug them like Lucifer and Michael now did so freely was still alien to him and he found himself blushing and mumbling but he was sure Michael and Lucifer actually enjoyed seeing him all flustered and bothered.

But even though Chuck was the most hesitant with actual touching, he was the first to initiate a kiss – even though it was by accident and he was more flustered than ever afterwards. Especially since Michael demanded his own kiss afterwards.

Chuck had been trying to help Lucifer in the kitchen. Well, he pretended to, he was actually just standing in the kitchen and fetching everything Lucifer told him to get. When he wasn't bringing the wrong things, he was hovering next to Lucifer, pretending to watch him but in truth just needing to be close to him.

Lucifer seemed to understand that, even though Chuck vehemently denied it. Whenever his cooking permitted it he had his left arm around the prophet, keeping him pressed to his side.

Chuck still didn't really understand how it had happened, but somehow he had turned his head when Lucifer had talked to him and the other man had been so incredible close. Out of some notion, Chuck had leaned forward and pressed his chapped lips to Lucifer's.

The ex-archangel had been startled for a moment but before Chuck's brain had been permitted to function again he had started kissing back.

When Michael had come into the kitchen ten minutes later, he had found Lucifer pressing Chuck against the counter – food forgotten and burning – kissing him feverishly. When the prophet had become aware of Michael's presence he had been sure things would escalate again.

But instead, Michael had stalked to the counter, grabbed Lucifer's hair and pulled his head away from Chuck, who was watching breathless and hard when both ex-archangel's started to kiss hungrily and possessive. Lucifer turned around and soon they were standing in a tight embrace still pressing Chuck against the counter.

Just when he had believed he would die of arousal just watching the two of them, Michael turned and claimed Chuck's mouth, kissing him gentler than he had kissed Lucifer but still Chuck felt just as ravished as he had when Lucifer kissed him.

When the Devil had started to mouth and kiss and bite along his neck, Chuck had made an embarrassing mewling sound and nearly came in his pants, so good it felt to be touched like this. Especially by Michael and Lucifer.

He had come in his pants when both of them had started to rut against him. He could feel their erections pressing against his body and that was what pushed him over the edge. He had clung to Michael, and mewled and moaned helplessly while both his angels continued rubbing against him, kissing him and worrying at his throat.

Both of them followed soon after, coming in the same instant. They stood there afterwards, not one of them wanting to let go, reveling in the feeling of closeness and belonging.

It was something Chuck had never known in his life and he clung to it by clinging to Michael and turning his head to bury his face on Lucifer's shoulder.

That day they had never left each other's reach, always touching and taking safety and happiness from whatever bond that was between them.

The days afterwards, Chuck had ran around blushing deep red and fidgeting whenever Michael and Lucifer had decided to kiss him but he had kissed them back and clung to them as they clung to him. For the first time he didn't care about seeming needy because Lucifer and Michael were as needy as him.

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