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blue_bells» Title: One Day I Walk
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: None.
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Michael/Lucifer
» Summary: Lucifer's found the Winchesters, but Michael's also found him.
» A/N: Written here for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tigriswolf in ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic.
Lucifer smiles when Michael materialises behind him on the hillside.
He’s been watching the black Impala creep down the street of this quiet, rural town and he’s looking forward to lighting it up the moment he steps down.
“Aren’t you going to greet your brother?” Michael asks, but Lucifer’s paying attention not to lose the Winchesters now that he’s finally found them.
He starts down the hill, minding his step in the dark, but suddenly Michael is standing in his way.
He’s shimmering around the edges, barely contained in this tall, dark and strangely handsome vessel he’s acquired. Lucifer wonders who this temporary face is, but in the end, he just hums in mocking approval before stepping around him.
Michael is there to obstruct him again, blue eyes intent and serious. He raises his hands in peace. “Lucifer....”
Lucifer raises an eyebrow at the gesture and finally rolls his eyes. “Yes, it’s been a long time, Michael, but that face won’t work on me.”
“If you do this...” Michael steps closer and Lucifer thinks for a moment that Michael’s going to reach for him, “If you do this I won’t be held responsible –“
Lucifer snaps because thousands of years after a bloody throw down and being incarcerated in a pit, being patronised by the brother who put you there is maddening.
He doesn’t want to go back, never in any time beyond infinity, but he has to say it anyway.
“Stop me then,” Lucifer smiles and Michael draws up straight, smooth but startled. “You’d better hold me down, because I’m going.”
“I’ll have to –“
“Stop me.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrow when Michael’s gaze softens to a plea and he damns those blue eyes because they’re the only reason he forgets to move, forgets to look for a sword behind his brother’s back, when Michael steps up to him on the hill.
This is different from the quick, heavy-handed Michael that hurled him down all that time ago when he had indifference for everything except the Word and nothing Lucifer appealed or did would sway him. That Michael had cold eyes and a swift sword, but now Michael is slow and careful. Michael’s fingers close around the lapel of Lucifer’s jacket and though his jaw works, no words follow.
He won’t look Lucifer in the eyes and it’s so enchanting that Lucifer grants him a few beats of his patience, listening to the wind howl towards the forest behind them. He even lets Michael’s other hand wind around the back of his neck, a gesture that might be the end of him, but Michael just stutters, frowning in frustration and finally Lucifer sighs.
“Just say it, then. Say it and I’ll wait one more day.”
Michael looks at him, so close and he swallows hard. “I lov—“
Lucifer grunts, amused. “Not that.”
Because Lucifer will never believe that Michael understands how to love anything more than orders and having a holier purpose. Michael can only love that Lucifer and all evil give himself an opposing definition. What Michael loves is war and valour and being the good son.
Michael considers it for a moment and tries again. “I’m sorry, but I was made for this. I'll always come for you."
And Lucifer decides that’ll do because he lets Michael kiss him. It’s an odd, still moment that Michael’s cool, dry lips press against his, fingers curling tightly behind his neck. Lucifer inhales sharply, but he considers leaning in a moment too late because Michael pulls back and Lucifer almost slips when the hands leave his jacket.
He gathers himself, eyes at Michael’s neck before he looks hard at the town. Michael’s staring at him.
He slaps Michael on the arm as he passes. “I’ll see you on the field.”
“Remember your word,” Michael says quietly, “One day.”
Lucifer keeps walking.
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: None.
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Michael/Lucifer
» Summary: Lucifer's found the Winchesters, but Michael's also found him.
» A/N: Written here for
tigriswolf in comment_fic. Lucifer smiles when Michael materialises behind him on the hillside.
He’s been watching the black Impala creep down the street of this quiet, rural town and he’s looking forward to lighting it up the moment he steps down.
“Aren’t you going to greet your brother?” Michael asks, but Lucifer’s paying attention not to lose the Winchesters now that he’s finally found them.
He starts down the hill, minding his step in the dark, but suddenly Michael is standing in his way.
He’s shimmering around the edges, barely contained in this tall, dark and strangely handsome vessel he’s acquired. Lucifer wonders who this temporary face is, but in the end, he just hums in mocking approval before stepping around him.
Michael is there to obstruct him again, blue eyes intent and serious. He raises his hands in peace. “Lucifer....”
Lucifer raises an eyebrow at the gesture and finally rolls his eyes. “Yes, it’s been a long time, Michael, but that face won’t work on me.”
“If you do this...” Michael steps closer and Lucifer thinks for a moment that Michael’s going to reach for him, “If you do this I won’t be held responsible –“
Lucifer snaps because thousands of years after a bloody throw down and being incarcerated in a pit, being patronised by the brother who put you there is maddening.
He doesn’t want to go back, never in any time beyond infinity, but he has to say it anyway.
“Stop me then,” Lucifer smiles and Michael draws up straight, smooth but startled. “You’d better hold me down, because I’m going.”
“I’ll have to –“
“Stop me.”
Lucifer’s eyes narrow when Michael’s gaze softens to a plea and he damns those blue eyes because they’re the only reason he forgets to move, forgets to look for a sword behind his brother’s back, when Michael steps up to him on the hill.
This is different from the quick, heavy-handed Michael that hurled him down all that time ago when he had indifference for everything except the Word and nothing Lucifer appealed or did would sway him. That Michael had cold eyes and a swift sword, but now Michael is slow and careful. Michael’s fingers close around the lapel of Lucifer’s jacket and though his jaw works, no words follow.
He won’t look Lucifer in the eyes and it’s so enchanting that Lucifer grants him a few beats of his patience, listening to the wind howl towards the forest behind them. He even lets Michael’s other hand wind around the back of his neck, a gesture that might be the end of him, but Michael just stutters, frowning in frustration and finally Lucifer sighs.
“Just say it, then. Say it and I’ll wait one more day.”
Michael looks at him, so close and he swallows hard. “I lov—“
Lucifer grunts, amused. “Not that.”
Because Lucifer will never believe that Michael understands how to love anything more than orders and having a holier purpose. Michael can only love that Lucifer and all evil give himself an opposing definition. What Michael loves is war and valour and being the good son.
Michael considers it for a moment and tries again. “I’m sorry, but I was made for this. I'll always come for you."
And Lucifer decides that’ll do because he lets Michael kiss him. It’s an odd, still moment that Michael’s cool, dry lips press against his, fingers curling tightly behind his neck. Lucifer inhales sharply, but he considers leaning in a moment too late because Michael pulls back and Lucifer almost slips when the hands leave his jacket.
He gathers himself, eyes at Michael’s neck before he looks hard at the town. Michael’s staring at him.
He slaps Michael on the arm as he passes. “I’ll see you on the field.”
“Remember your word,” Michael says quietly, “One day.”
Lucifer keeps walking.
