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blue_bells» Title: Ruthless and Divine
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: Angelcest
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Michael/Gabriel, Raphael
» Summary: Hell is still in his throat.
» A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
zekkass under the Five Acts meme (collars, restraints, body doubles).
Michael ascends the final step to the highest Heaven, wings flat against his back.
Raphael has not discarded his armour, he still watches the borders of their home with stern mistrust and his scowl doesn’t lift when he looks into Michael’s face from his vigil at that final step.
“It’s done?” Raphael growls, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Michael’s just shut the gate on their brother’s cage. He’s just flown and climbed the tallest flights of Heaven. He follows the motion of Raphael’s hand on his sword and wills his own away, hand crushing into a fist.
Raphael’s look is piercing and expectant, but Michael only wants to ask after the fate and health of their kin – the loyal and the brave. He wants Raphael’s firm, steady calm and sure hand at his wings to heal and assure. Michael doesn’t recognise this Raphael whose grace is clouded, who stands too still and kills so quickly. Michael has enough soldiers, but Raphael has twisted into this thing he must learn all over again.
“It’s done,” Michael says, and finds he is hoarse. Hell is still in his throat.
Heaven is quiet, his voice carrying through its mausoleum.
“Where’s Gabriel?” Michael asks, trying to swallow past the lump threatening to choke him.
Raphael’s dark eyes flicker towards him and Michael knows.
He almost reaches for Raphael before he leaves, but then Raphael turns back to the borders and Michael lets his hand drop away.
-*-
At first, Michael doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.
He finds Gabriel sitting on the banks of the river, leaning back against an old tree with a faraway expression. His legs are drawn up, wrists resting on his knee as he draws a head of grass between his hands and watches Lucifer stroll in the waves.
Lucifer.
Michael pulls his sword as soon as he realises who that is turning, waist deep, in the water, but something’s different. Something is not right.
Michael just shut Lucifer behind a wall of ice and there was no mistake that had been Lucifer when all the light in Hell went out.
That thing in the river that smiles easily at Gabriel (and that smile almost makes Michael drop his sword), open and disarmed as Lucifer loved before his fall, is empty. It has no essence, like smoke on the wind, immaterial and temporary, but when it strolls from the river and kneels before Gabriel, dripping water as it kisses his wrists, his hands… the way Gabriel’s expression falls is very real.
Gabriel’s hands curl around the face in his hands and Michael is startled as Lucifer’s form shifts like cloud, becoming Raphael.
Michael’s wings draw tight against his back.
This is not real. This is… what is this?
Gabriel pushes off from his seat among the tree roots and Raphael’s hands are on his hips, guiding Gabriel to curl into his lap. It’s not pleasure, but a numb resignation, in Gabriel’s face when Raphael kisses his closed eyes, rests his mouth against Gabriel’s cheek.
Raphael’s arms are wrapped around Gabriel’s waist and he’s murmuring something into Gabriel’s skin that makes Gabriel jerk, chest bouncing with a hollow-seeming laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Gabriel watches the stones, the river, the trees on the opposite bank and before he looks past to the mountains, Michael thinks he might be discovered. But Gabriel’s eyes turn to the gold blue sky and he just hugs Raphael closer.
Raphael has not been this patient, gentle or interested in a long time.
This is not real. Michael is finally certain it’s not real when the thing beneath Gabriel shifts for a final time into an apparition of Michael himself.
Gabriel leans their foreheads together, hand pushing back through the false Michael’s wings. His fingers curl around a cluster of feathers tight enough that it would have hurt, but the other Michael doesn’t flinch or wince. He draws far enough away to meet Gabriel’s eyes and even from where he stands on the opposite bank, Michael can see Gabriel’s the one who flinches first, pushing back against the false Michael’s chest and climbing to his feet.
Pebbles slide where Gabriel marches down the bank, unfaltering when he breaks the water and he’s waist deep when he suddenly drops, falling away beneath the surface.
False Michael hasn’t moved from the tree, but he ripples, fading.
Angels have no death by natural causes and they can only be harmed by another’s sword or God’s will.
Angels can’t inhale water into lungs they don’t have, but Michael still breaks his cover of the trees and tall grass. He flies through the water, catching Gabriel’s shoulder and throwing his head back when Michael shoves him down against the dry bank, weight on his wings and shoulders.
Gabriel blinks through the water in his eyes and frowns, too unconcerned, as though a cherub had landed on his shoulder and he’s inclined to brush it off.
Michael lifts Gabriel’s chest off the ground with hands in his robes, slams him back down.
“Gabriel,” Michael growls, questions racing as his wings beat the water from his feathers.
Gabriel grunts, eyes shut with a small frown of pain, but he doesn’t push back.
What is this? What are you doing? What were you thinking?
“You’re early,” Gabriel says beneath him, unmoving.
Michael looks up at the false image of himself that’s now standing by Gabriel’s shoulder, eyes on Michael. His clothes have changed to armour, but Michael feels assured by the absence of a sword in that other’s hand. Michael feels Gabriel’s hands slide around his as Michael watches the other him sink to his knees, reaching for their brother on the bank.
Gabriel looks back at the other Michael, and his brother doesn’t miss the way he swallows or the grateful light that enters his eyes.
Michael’s sword lances through the apparition, secret curl of satisfaction in his gut when that thing wearing his face vaporizes. His sword sinks into stone somewhere out of sight and he’ll be searching for it later.
Michael’s dripping water onto Gabriel’s skin when he looks down, but Gabriel’s already looking elsewhere, sidelong at the bank where the image of Lucifer swirls into being and Michael twists his hands tighter in Gabriel’s when their fallen brother looks their way.
Michael sharply turns his head before Lucifer finds his eyes.
“Gabriel,” He warns, clenching their hands and he lets Gabriel bear his full weight.
Gabriel finally looks up at him.
“How was hell?” Gabriel asks, flatly.
Michael crowds his wings around them. He doesn’t want to check if that phantom Lucifer is still there, he can’t stand the thought that even an imposter – a figment of Gabriel’s power – is wearing Lucifer’s face when he’s down in Hell, burning cold in his fury where he’ll be alone forever and it hasn’t even been a day.
Michael feels the ache in Gabriel like a gaping wound under his hands.
“You should have come to me,” Michael shakes his head, touches the dip of Gabriel’s collarbone, where water has pooled.
Gabriel looks at something over his shoulder and a chill runs down Michael’s back.
“Maybe you should have come to me,” Gabriel says.
Michael senses the false, after thrill of him at his back and when he looks, the cold drops on his shoulders because both Lucifer and Raphael are there at his wings, shoulder to shoulder.
Their expressions are empty, but Michael sees sick betrayal and when Lucifer reaches for the arch of his wing, Michael reacts.
Gabriel grunts in surprise when Michael’s halo collars around his neck.
Lucifer and Raphael disappear on the wind and Michael finds himself breathing heavily, fingers heavy at Gabriel’s throat.
“I did,” Michael admits, listening to Gabriel’s deep, careful breaths when Michael traces a line from Gabriel’s chin to his clavicle, collar thrumming under his touch, “I’m here.”
“Your halo…. ?” Gabriel asks, breathy and confused.
Michael hooks a finger under the collar of his halo, loosening its tie and Gabriel makes a short sound of relief.
“My grace to bind yours,” Michael says and strokes a soothing line from Gabriel’s neck down his chest. He murmurs the next against the skin of Gabriel’s chest, hesitant. “Lucifer showed me.”
Gabriel chokes a laugh above him.
“He must be regretting that now.”
Michael wants to laugh, even if he doesn’t mean it.
“What of your mirrors of us?” Michael asks, because that ability makes him very curious.
“Lucifer,” Gabriel just says and Michael can hear the smile in his voice.
Michael looks up from his press to Gabriel’s chest, fists still trapped between them and he’s pushing up Gabriel’s body before he considers why and Gabriel raises his head to kiss him.
It’s a dry, lingering press and Michael hopes it means Gabriel might still forgive him.
When Gabriel pulls back, he’s smiling darkly and Michael’s halo shimmers around his neck.
“Do you want to know what else he taught me?” Gabriel asks, low and secret and Michael forgets to keep hold of his hands.
He’s flipped onto his back, wings beating against the stones, but his halo has focused his power to bind Gabriel and his ghosts; Gabriel knows just how to distribute himself so Michael’s wings never find their leverage, Michael’s wrists are pinned under his back and the way Gabriel smiles in his face is too dangerous, too familiar.
“You don’t need glory or righteousness to love,” Gabriel says and nips at Michael’s bottom lip when he kisses him again, breathes Michael’s gasp when Gabriel’s hips push down. “Love is patient, love is kind. Love is ruthless and divine.”
Michael’s wings have forgotten their fight and he doesn’t realise his eyes have fallen shut as Gabriel leans their foreheads together, sliding wet and rough between his legs.
“I’m going to love you, Michael,” Gabriel promises and the collar flares around his throat, bright sear of power. “Are you ready?”
Michael just hooks a finger in his collar and pulls Gabriel back down.
Continued in Cognoscere.
» Fandom: Supernatural
» Warnings: Angelcest
» Pairing(s)/Characters: Michael/Gabriel, Raphael
» Summary: Hell is still in his throat.
» A/N: Written for
zekkass under the Five Acts meme (collars, restraints, body doubles).Michael ascends the final step to the highest Heaven, wings flat against his back.
Raphael has not discarded his armour, he still watches the borders of their home with stern mistrust and his scowl doesn’t lift when he looks into Michael’s face from his vigil at that final step.
“It’s done?” Raphael growls, hand on the hilt of his sword.
Michael’s just shut the gate on their brother’s cage. He’s just flown and climbed the tallest flights of Heaven. He follows the motion of Raphael’s hand on his sword and wills his own away, hand crushing into a fist.
Raphael’s look is piercing and expectant, but Michael only wants to ask after the fate and health of their kin – the loyal and the brave. He wants Raphael’s firm, steady calm and sure hand at his wings to heal and assure. Michael doesn’t recognise this Raphael whose grace is clouded, who stands too still and kills so quickly. Michael has enough soldiers, but Raphael has twisted into this thing he must learn all over again.
“It’s done,” Michael says, and finds he is hoarse. Hell is still in his throat.
Heaven is quiet, his voice carrying through its mausoleum.
“Where’s Gabriel?” Michael asks, trying to swallow past the lump threatening to choke him.
Raphael’s dark eyes flicker towards him and Michael knows.
He almost reaches for Raphael before he leaves, but then Raphael turns back to the borders and Michael lets his hand drop away.
At first, Michael doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.
He finds Gabriel sitting on the banks of the river, leaning back against an old tree with a faraway expression. His legs are drawn up, wrists resting on his knee as he draws a head of grass between his hands and watches Lucifer stroll in the waves.
Lucifer.
Michael pulls his sword as soon as he realises who that is turning, waist deep, in the water, but something’s different. Something is not right.
Michael just shut Lucifer behind a wall of ice and there was no mistake that had been Lucifer when all the light in Hell went out.
That thing in the river that smiles easily at Gabriel (and that smile almost makes Michael drop his sword), open and disarmed as Lucifer loved before his fall, is empty. It has no essence, like smoke on the wind, immaterial and temporary, but when it strolls from the river and kneels before Gabriel, dripping water as it kisses his wrists, his hands… the way Gabriel’s expression falls is very real.
Gabriel’s hands curl around the face in his hands and Michael is startled as Lucifer’s form shifts like cloud, becoming Raphael.
Michael’s wings draw tight against his back.
This is not real. This is… what is this?
Gabriel pushes off from his seat among the tree roots and Raphael’s hands are on his hips, guiding Gabriel to curl into his lap. It’s not pleasure, but a numb resignation, in Gabriel’s face when Raphael kisses his closed eyes, rests his mouth against Gabriel’s cheek.
Raphael’s arms are wrapped around Gabriel’s waist and he’s murmuring something into Gabriel’s skin that makes Gabriel jerk, chest bouncing with a hollow-seeming laugh. It doesn’t reach his eyes. Gabriel watches the stones, the river, the trees on the opposite bank and before he looks past to the mountains, Michael thinks he might be discovered. But Gabriel’s eyes turn to the gold blue sky and he just hugs Raphael closer.
Raphael has not been this patient, gentle or interested in a long time.
This is not real. Michael is finally certain it’s not real when the thing beneath Gabriel shifts for a final time into an apparition of Michael himself.
Gabriel leans their foreheads together, hand pushing back through the false Michael’s wings. His fingers curl around a cluster of feathers tight enough that it would have hurt, but the other Michael doesn’t flinch or wince. He draws far enough away to meet Gabriel’s eyes and even from where he stands on the opposite bank, Michael can see Gabriel’s the one who flinches first, pushing back against the false Michael’s chest and climbing to his feet.
Pebbles slide where Gabriel marches down the bank, unfaltering when he breaks the water and he’s waist deep when he suddenly drops, falling away beneath the surface.
False Michael hasn’t moved from the tree, but he ripples, fading.
Angels have no death by natural causes and they can only be harmed by another’s sword or God’s will.
Angels can’t inhale water into lungs they don’t have, but Michael still breaks his cover of the trees and tall grass. He flies through the water, catching Gabriel’s shoulder and throwing his head back when Michael shoves him down against the dry bank, weight on his wings and shoulders.
Gabriel blinks through the water in his eyes and frowns, too unconcerned, as though a cherub had landed on his shoulder and he’s inclined to brush it off.
Michael lifts Gabriel’s chest off the ground with hands in his robes, slams him back down.
“Gabriel,” Michael growls, questions racing as his wings beat the water from his feathers.
Gabriel grunts, eyes shut with a small frown of pain, but he doesn’t push back.
What is this? What are you doing? What were you thinking?
“You’re early,” Gabriel says beneath him, unmoving.
Michael looks up at the false image of himself that’s now standing by Gabriel’s shoulder, eyes on Michael. His clothes have changed to armour, but Michael feels assured by the absence of a sword in that other’s hand. Michael feels Gabriel’s hands slide around his as Michael watches the other him sink to his knees, reaching for their brother on the bank.
Gabriel looks back at the other Michael, and his brother doesn’t miss the way he swallows or the grateful light that enters his eyes.
Michael’s sword lances through the apparition, secret curl of satisfaction in his gut when that thing wearing his face vaporizes. His sword sinks into stone somewhere out of sight and he’ll be searching for it later.
Michael’s dripping water onto Gabriel’s skin when he looks down, but Gabriel’s already looking elsewhere, sidelong at the bank where the image of Lucifer swirls into being and Michael twists his hands tighter in Gabriel’s when their fallen brother looks their way.
Michael sharply turns his head before Lucifer finds his eyes.
“Gabriel,” He warns, clenching their hands and he lets Gabriel bear his full weight.
Gabriel finally looks up at him.
“How was hell?” Gabriel asks, flatly.
Michael crowds his wings around them. He doesn’t want to check if that phantom Lucifer is still there, he can’t stand the thought that even an imposter – a figment of Gabriel’s power – is wearing Lucifer’s face when he’s down in Hell, burning cold in his fury where he’ll be alone forever and it hasn’t even been a day.
Michael feels the ache in Gabriel like a gaping wound under his hands.
“You should have come to me,” Michael shakes his head, touches the dip of Gabriel’s collarbone, where water has pooled.
Gabriel looks at something over his shoulder and a chill runs down Michael’s back.
“Maybe you should have come to me,” Gabriel says.
Michael senses the false, after thrill of him at his back and when he looks, the cold drops on his shoulders because both Lucifer and Raphael are there at his wings, shoulder to shoulder.
Their expressions are empty, but Michael sees sick betrayal and when Lucifer reaches for the arch of his wing, Michael reacts.
Gabriel grunts in surprise when Michael’s halo collars around his neck.
Lucifer and Raphael disappear on the wind and Michael finds himself breathing heavily, fingers heavy at Gabriel’s throat.
“I did,” Michael admits, listening to Gabriel’s deep, careful breaths when Michael traces a line from Gabriel’s chin to his clavicle, collar thrumming under his touch, “I’m here.”
“Your halo…. ?” Gabriel asks, breathy and confused.
Michael hooks a finger under the collar of his halo, loosening its tie and Gabriel makes a short sound of relief.
“My grace to bind yours,” Michael says and strokes a soothing line from Gabriel’s neck down his chest. He murmurs the next against the skin of Gabriel’s chest, hesitant. “Lucifer showed me.”
Gabriel chokes a laugh above him.
“He must be regretting that now.”
Michael wants to laugh, even if he doesn’t mean it.
“What of your mirrors of us?” Michael asks, because that ability makes him very curious.
“Lucifer,” Gabriel just says and Michael can hear the smile in his voice.
Michael looks up from his press to Gabriel’s chest, fists still trapped between them and he’s pushing up Gabriel’s body before he considers why and Gabriel raises his head to kiss him.
It’s a dry, lingering press and Michael hopes it means Gabriel might still forgive him.
When Gabriel pulls back, he’s smiling darkly and Michael’s halo shimmers around his neck.
“Do you want to know what else he taught me?” Gabriel asks, low and secret and Michael forgets to keep hold of his hands.
He’s flipped onto his back, wings beating against the stones, but his halo has focused his power to bind Gabriel and his ghosts; Gabriel knows just how to distribute himself so Michael’s wings never find their leverage, Michael’s wrists are pinned under his back and the way Gabriel smiles in his face is too dangerous, too familiar.
“You don’t need glory or righteousness to love,” Gabriel says and nips at Michael’s bottom lip when he kisses him again, breathes Michael’s gasp when Gabriel’s hips push down. “Love is patient, love is kind. Love is ruthless and divine.”
Michael’s wings have forgotten their fight and he doesn’t realise his eyes have fallen shut as Gabriel leans their foreheads together, sliding wet and rough between his legs.
“I’m going to love you, Michael,” Gabriel promises and the collar flares around his throat, bright sear of power. “Are you ready?”
Michael just hooks a finger in his collar and pulls Gabriel back down.
Continued in Cognoscere.
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ruthless and divine
Date: 2011-01-14 12:20 pm (UTC)More, please. These are my favorite kind of SPN angels, and done so well.
I wonder if Michael is as ready as he thinks he is. I wonder how closely Gabriel agrees with himself...
Re: ruthless and divine
Date: 2011-01-25 03:43 pm (UTC)I actually had a pointless addendum to this ficlet, but I haven't finished it, so if I manage to -- I will let you know how things turn out.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 05:19 pm (UTC)I love your angsty, broken, hurting Angels. They're so pretty and heartbreaking.
And the Halo!Collar! I love that idea. :D
<3
no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 03:46 pm (UTC)Halo!Collar came to me while half-asleep, like most of my ideas, I'm glad you think it worked. <333
no subject
Date: 2011-01-27 03:27 am (UTC)Same here. I love Angelic backstory set around this timeframe. :D
I really liked that idea. <3
no subject
Date: 2011-01-14 06:55 pm (UTC)Very lovely, this. This piece in general is almost poetic. And, of course, I just love the idea of the four archangels loving each other in Heaven - even if Lucy and Raphael don't join in anymore, for their own respective reasons.
no subject
Date: 2011-01-25 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 05:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-03-29 05:34 pm (UTC)