Raphael has always been sophisticated. Suave, sexy, debonair, flirtatious, easily able to charm the women he plays with like plastic dolls. The way he walks, carries himself, smokes his cigarettes, sips his wine...

Yes, since the day of creation, Heaven's healer, the elemental angel of wind has never been anything but, well, utterly sophisticated.

To say Michael is not sophisticated would be an understatement. Whether he's throwing swear words around or lighting half of Heaven on fire, Michael is short, childlike, none too bright, hardly what one picture when they think of sophistication.

Perhaps, then, some people would think that the friendship between the two of them is odd, or wasted, or not meant to last. Opposites don't really attract, after all. Nobody believes that, not really. Nobody in Heaven still believes in fairy tales, after all -- the machines and the cold emotionlessness of the angels who run them make it impossible.

But some people would be wrong. Sometimes, opposites really do attract.

That's how, when Michael storms off in an angry huff yet again, Raphael knows he will still come back the next day.

I'm trying to starting ficcing -- actually, writing, period -- again after having not done it in so long. This is just a drabble, written for the LJ community 15minuteficlets, word #172, sophisticated.

"Angel Sanctuary" is the dream of someone much smarter than me, and I, of course, own no part of it.