Chapter Four

Despite everything, the tension between them because Michael had promised after Christmas Day to explain everything to Ella, the actual lead up to the holiday is going pretty well. He still has fuck all idea what to get her. He figures something nerdy since it is still just their first year together, but he is overwhelmed with the prospect of it. Michael doesn't want to mess it up. He also has no one to ask, since all of Ella's friends are by extension Sam's friends and, okay, they all have a perfectly valid reason to hate him. But he'll figure it out. He's bound for the mall (ugh) tomorrow, and he'll find the right thing for her.

He better.

Michael knows he's been delaying the inevitable, and it's the twenty-third already. But he'd been scouring Google and doing research and nervous about wasting money on something Lopez would hate.

On the plus side, he's decided that he enjoys being with her very much. Although they had only gone so far, and he has no idea how to explain to Lopez that he has fuck all experience with, well, anything. Still, Michael feels like the make out under the mistletoe has led to more intimacy between them.

Like now.

Like when she's pulling at the hem of his turtleneck, and he obliges by shucking it off.

And who knew that having the lights on the tree actually made the whole thing more enticing? Michael wouldn't have predicted that.

Lopez grins at him, and he can't help but shrink under her gaze. It is…difficult. Michael is sure she and Sam have…well he's not one hundred percent sure, but Samael is basically a horndog and his twin has had more than ample time to seduce Ella. It seems inevitable that at some point his brother had done just that, since Sam wasn't exactly known for discretion. It would also explain Samael's possessive protection of her. But when Lopez looks at him, especially when he's shirtless shirtless, Michael can't help but worry over her comparing him with Samael.

That his sloped shoulder and the rigid posture of his weakened right side might turn her off. It had always been lacking before. Why would it be enough now? Michael sighs and stills under her evaluations, waiting for her to change her mind even before he tells her everything about what he's done.

But her eyes if anything are even hungrier than they'd been before.

"You're amazing," she says, and for once, Michael can almost believe such a sentiment.

Michael looks away, his gaze landing on the tree and all its assembled heroes. "I promise you that I'm not, Lopez."

She reaches up and cups his right cheek, her thumb tracing the edges of his scar. Of the scar Samael had given him. "Dude, you don't have to be self-conscious. I'm being completely serious. You really have no idea how hot you are, do you?"

Michael dares to look at her and gives a derisive snort. "I can't believe I'm the one doing this because of all the times not to bring my idiot twin into something…but I'm not him and I know that…" he shrugs and groans when only his good shoulder moves. Toward the end of the day, his fucking right side gets so very stiff. "He's better. It's very true, and you were pretty damn shellshocked before, Lopez, but my wings are an eyesore. I know seeing angel wings at all must have been beyond crazy for a mortal, but I have it on very good authority that my wings are a monstrosity for all the Host. I hadn't really thought about the rest of me."

A lie, but he still clings to those from time to time, even with her.

And he knows very well that his busted right side, year-old scar, and Dad help him, abomination of wings are all wrong, all affronts because angels are never broken.

Except for him.

She stands up then and hands him his turtleneck.

Michael takes it and feels a chill up his spine. Yes, of course she's gotten too much of an eyeful already. "See, I thought so."

Lopez shakes her head and gathers a blanket from behind them on the sofa and then curls under it with him even as he finishes shoving his shirt back on. "You know, we can take things however you want. We have the biggest talk ever after Christmas because I get you did a lot of things to make Chloe and Lucifer mad at you, but I'm willing to hear your side of things."

He swallows heavily at that. "I know."

"But you just…if it's too much, too fast, I get that too. I know you have, uh, the wing thing."

Michael blushes. "That's not too bad." Although his shoulder blades were twitching a lot this evening. "It's more that I understand if you feel like you're settling or if when you get a better look at me, I'm not what you really want." He's proud of himself for not saying who because of course Samael is a sore point between them on so many levels.

She snuggles closer into him and sets her head on his shoulder. "Michael, I care about you a lot, and it's not because of how you look, and you're not ugly. Like, at all. I am so sorry your brothers and sisters made you feel that way. I really am. I know how bad even just brothers making fun of you can feel."

Michael dares to look her in the eyes, and they're so wide and open, that he can't help but believe her, that somehow Ella sees something special-at least for now-when his family has always just seen trash.

"And I'm sorry Ricardo makes fun of you over Rae Rae," he replies.

"Well, all of them mostly except Jay. He always made sure to call the rest off, but Ricardo does it the most. We just don't get along. But you're not ugly, and you never were."

He nods and tries to smile for her, although he doesn't feel it. "I'm at least more passable among humans, but if you knew anything about wings-"

"I do! I have a chicken and everything."

"Not the same, Lopez, and if anything were blasphemous, equating Celestial and chicken wingss would be it."

She rolls her eyes at the statement. "But you're not bad, and if your brothers and sisters made you think that…they were wrong, Mike, and I don't understand how angels can be so mean. When I was growing up in church, I always thought they were protectors."

"We are, but we're not without a lot of faults," he admits. "Even the good ones who aren't Fallen. We can be petty with each other, but I wish I could make you understand." He shakes his head and kisses the crown of hers. This wouldn't last beyond the twenty-sixth anyway. It was impossible she'd hear about him kidnapping Chloe Decker and be cool with it. Borrowed time, and he is ruining what little he has left by hating himself.

Then again, it's one of the few constants about him.

"Understand what?"

"You're wasting your time with me. Samael is Fallen, but you definitely have the most defective of the actual angels on your sofa, Lopez. You might need to ask Dad for a refund."

She glares up at him. "Stop talking about yourself like that. It's wrong."

"It's what they all say. Dear Dad, you should hear Remiel and Gabriel. Uriel loved to torment me too in his way before he died."

"But they're not here, and if they were that shitty, no wonder you're on earth."

"I'm mostly on earth because Dad won't let me go home."

"And is it home? Is Heaven any better for you than Detroit is for me?"

Michael sighs again. "I…I can't say. It's where I'm supposed to be, and for the longest time, I thought I hated it lately because they all praise Sam and how selfless he is with Chloe Decker."

Although he doesn't think it should count as selfless since Samael cared about Chloe, that if she were safe and happy, it wasn't as if Sam didn't get fringe benefits from it. But oh how the Host mooned over all of it, like the sappiest love story of all fucking time.

And as if his brother hadn't torn heaven apart. As if the Rebellion had cost the rest of them nothing at all, what a lie.

"But you think there's more?" she prods.

"I think that maybe it hasn't been home since Samael Fell, not really, and a huge part of that is because they all mock me," he kisses her temple this time, taking solace in the sunshine on his lap. "I was once their leader, and the Sword of God moniker very much earned. I did everything Father asked, and then I was their shame, their painful reminder of what happens to even the useful angels. I hate their stares, but I hate their put downs more. Even Sam-"

"He does?" Ella asks.

Michael chuckles darkly. Oh, did the Devil have his humans so very snowed. At least Chloe Decker, Eve, the good doctor, and Lopez had no idea how truly petty and cutting Samael could be when he chose to. For Lopez's sake, Michael hopes very much that Samael's sharp tongue is never unleashed on her.

"Yes, of course. He didn't know about how badly reaching for my wing in his own Fall hurt me, not at first, but I've been on earth before."

"Yeah you mentioned," she says.

"It was Amenadiel's job to escort Samael back to Hell when his vacations got too long. But sometimes, Menny would ask me for help. I guess it was some time around maybe King David's reign, the first time we saw each other again. Sam has taken great delight in mocking my bent frame and fucked up wings ever since."

Her eyes blaze almost when she regards him. "I'm going to talk to both Amenadiel and Lucifer about that. I know you avoid them unless there's something apocalyptic, but they shouldn't get to say those things to you."

"It's just what it is, Lopez. I don't need you to be my mom on that. My actual one wasn't any help." Because she went crazy and tried to use a flood to eliminate humanity. Michael doesn't add that part out loud. Lopez is dealing well with so many things, but he doesn't know which straw will finally cause her to snap, and the Goddess is a whole haystack's worth of issues and cruelty. And they share so much in common, down to the gift of Creation, and Michael really doesn't want to know what that says about him. "I'm used to it. It's not like I don't give as good as I get with Samael."

"Yeah, but it's wrong. I mean, you'd never stop trying to get Ricardo to stop making fun of my schizophrenia-"

"But you're not."

"He still thinks I am, and I am weird. I see a ghost who, okay, turned out to be the Angel of Death, but that really doesn't make any more sense or sound less crazy to normal humans anyway."

"When she shows up and finally answers my calls, I might just kill Rae Rae."

"But you won't," she says.

"No, but she…I hate your family is crappy, Lopez."

"Well, then I can hate that your family-which again angels should be better-is shitty to you."

Michael laughs but there's no humor in it. "Angels might be crappier in some ways than mortals. There's a lot to be said about that angelic ego, and not one bit of it is good. I mean, I have it too. It's been taken down a lot between my injuries and now being stranded here, but I…sometimes I feel like I make an exception for you, Ella. I mean, I have a few regulars I meet on the underground poker circuit who seem like decent enough guys. I'd rather have beers with them than Sam or Menny, but you…you're so good, and you make other humans seem better just by being one of them."

She frowns at him, and there's so much worry in her expression that it makes it hard to breathe. "Do angels all see us like ants or monkeys or something?"

Michael bites his tongue before admitting that for most of the Host, humans would have to work to be even as interesting as ants. That wouldn't help. "We're endless, Lopez. We've been here just a bit after time began, except Amenadiel. He was the First, so he literally started time, itself. We've seen planets come and go and species rise and fall, and while humanity seems to be Dad's favorite, well, He's had other favorites before even if He never gave the rest Free Will like you guys. It's just…you're gone so fast."

And he holds her closer then, pulling her tightly to his chest. That thought pains him. What did a human have really? Jay mentioned Lopez was forty, maybe already halfway through a paltry eighty or ninety years at best. It was a blink. There had been centuries sometimes between the times Michael had been sent to earth on Father's errands. He'd been so very confused in the gap between the Renaissance and the American Civil War. The amount of industry that had sprouted up had floored him. And Lopez has so much less time left than that, and he won't…Dad can keep him banished from the Silver City for eons if He so wills it.

But that's for later.

For right now, he needs to get through the 26th and the desperate hope he doesn't drive even her off with his past and his mistakes.

"Yeah, but we're not ants!" She objects, snapping his attention back to her.

"You're interesting. I give all of humans that much. I'm starting to see why the First Born gave so much up to be here, why Amenadiel turned his back on everything he ever knew or espoused. Sam was always a lost cause. He was hooked on fucking as many of you as he could the minute he saw Eve."

Ella blushes and strokes his chest. "You know that Lucifer and I…we were never like that."

He feels just the tiniest flash of something on her, a bit of goosebumps erupting over her skin. It's enough to tell Michael that even if she and Sam never slept together and thank Dad for small favors that it is still very much something Lopez considered once upon a time. Even for a while.

But he doesn't want her to think he spies on her feelings; Michael doesn't. He just sucks at blocking out fears and what others feel. Lopez is so very easy to read, every expression and thought and need written plainly on her face.

"I'm glad. I wasn't…it's probably really shitty of me to say, Lopez, but I'm not known for keeping my big mouth shut either. I was worried that you and Sam did whatever, and I'm a substitute." He chuckles mirthlessly. "Not that I'm a good replacement. You don't want the fucked up one."

Maybe just the extra crispy version.

Ella groans. "No, never. He offered when I was new to the precinct. I think at the time he offered every newbie, but I didn't want to. He's a good friend. Hell, he's more like my brother than Ricardo ever was."

Michael isn't sure which hurts worse, that Sam, being the slut he is, offered or that Samael is also a better brother to a mortal than he has been in millennia to any of the Host save possibly Rae Rae and Menny. He certainly hasn't felt any real fraternal bond with his twin-quite literally his own flesh and blood—since perhaps when they made the stars and planets together. He isn't sure why it's so easy for Samael to give that love and consideration away to mortals when he can't spare any kindness for Michael.

But it burns.

Dear Dad does it burn, even now.

"Good, I just thought-"

She kisses him, and it's a long and lingering one that leaves no doubt of her feelings for him, misplaced as they may be. Lopez pulls back and the look she gives him dares Michael to argue. It would cow almost anyone else, but Michael is very good at objecting to things. It's kind of his other talent besides fear.

"You're wrong," Lopez adds for good measure.

He threads the fingers of his good hand through hers. "I want to be. I just…maybe it's hard to be but so exposed around you. I'll get used to you seeing me without my jacket and turtleneck on, or at least I hope I will. I'm just sorry I'm not like the others. Story of my life even before my injuries. No one likes the Angel of Fear. Goes with the territory. My gift from Father."

It has always felt like a curse, that power over fear he never asked for, and Michael wonders so desperately as he always has what it would be like to be desire instead. He wishes it were true, but he has always made his siblings uneasy, even Samael. It is just magnified as an effect on lesser beings like humans. He has to work so hard to keep the terror he can elicit from seeping into everything he does.

"I like you." She kisses him again. "We can take this as slow as you need, Mike. Trust me, after everything with Pete, I am not in a hurry. I just need you to know you're not someone I'm with because I just would rather be with Lucifer, and I'm doing some weird single white female thing."

"I don't get the reference."

"Pfft, old movie anyway. Sin embargo, I'm not trying to replace Luce. Dude, I really do not want to have sex with him."

"But you do me?"

"Someday when we're there, yeah. Like I said, you're really hot!"

He smiles and lets her lead him to his bedroom. He's too drained for more than literal, actual sleeping together tonight, but he needs the load off his mind. He needs to feel his arms curled around her and the softness of her in his grasp. For a few more days, she is his, and Michael will let that last an eternity even after his past drives her off, as it does with everyone else.

She is back in that fucking room.

Ella knows it's a nightmare. Some small, terrified part of her is screaming for her to wake up, but she can't. Even if she understands that this is mostly just a memory and that Pete is both a bit insane now and locked up in supermax, this is all she's ever feared. For over a year, she's always back here. A few times a week.

And his hands are around her throat.

She is only exploring the hot house for a few moments, the cloying smell of lilies clogging her nose, when Pete-dream!Pete-bursts in. This isn't exactly how it happened, but he's here now and he backhands her hard, making Ella sees stars. Then, they fall to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Ella screams and tries to crawl away, to flee any way she can. He's on her then, and he's so heavy, even if he's not a big guy, and she can't move fast enough.

She just can't.

He flips her over, and his hands are around her neck.

Pete's screaming at her, calling her a slut and a whore and threatening to hurt her worse because he's so goddamn sick of all her talking. But the most excruciating part is the dark, manic gleam in his eye as he tells her that she's full of darkness, just like him.

She doesn't want to believe him.

But even if she's not actually crazy, she's been running from the voices and her vices since she was a child, and she can't anymore. She is so very broken, and Pete knows.

He sees.

And the hands are so tight that Ella can't even cough.

The world goes dark, and she can't scream.

Ella bolts up in bed and shrieks. But the fear doesn't stop. In fact, even though she vaguely recognizes Michael's bedroom and realizes he's beside her, trying to stroke her shoulder and talk her down, Ella can't let it go. The air is sucked from her lungs, and she doubles over, gasping for breath.

Panic attack, her mind supplies. She's seen it in witnesses and in victims who are on the scene. She's a trained first responder and knows how to help with that for anyone else. For herself, Ella is a crying, shaking mess. Screaming even as she gasps again.

Michael didn't even seem to move but there's water in one hand and a cool rag in the other, and Ella didn't realize how truly fast angels were till then. Objectively, she knows he's powerful, but he rarely uses his otherworldly abilities around her, but the proof of his power-that he could hurt her more severely than Pete if he tried-is making her attack worse.

She shakes, her knees knock together, and shock is coming on. The small part of her mind that is still rational is screaming about that.

"Lopez," Michael's begging her, and she's never heard that kind of need in his voice before. "Are you okay? You're scaring me!"

She's shuddering, and Ella wants to help him, but Pete's hands still feel like they're wrapped around her throat. "I can't…it's so cold."

And she's freezing even in the pile of blankets Michael must have wrapped around her, even in Southern California. She can't stop shaking or think or do anything.

"Lopez, please, it was just a nightmare," he reaches for her shoulder and the hot house leaps to life before her, and she can feel it as vibrantly as when she was sleeping.

And, for the first time, she understands even a fraction of what Michael can do. She leaps back from him like she's been burned and manages to get a sentence out. "Stop touching me!"

He does as asked, and in a moment he's at the far corner of the room. "I'm so sorry. I didn't cause the nightmare, but I…I'm making it worse. Lopez…Ella, please, you're going to be okay. Just tell me you're going to be okay."

She can't even speak any longer, and a small, keening whine fills the air. To her horror and embarrassment, Ella realizes that she's making that sound and can't stop.

Michael looks at her, and his expression is so crestfallen that it pains her, but she can't snap out of it, and the air is thick with fear and rife with anxiety. He's doing it, and she figures Michael doesn't even mean to, but he's as worked up as she is, and Ella cannot escape from it. She's just human after all.

"I'm so sorry, Lopez. I'll…I'll fix it."

Before she can even ask or what he means, Mike's gone. Just a blur of motion, and that show of power makes her shake even harder.

Eventually after hours or days or half of forever passes, as scared as she is, Ella is aware of soft hands on her shoulders. They are not Michael's, far too small, and it finally pierces her brain between the animalistic terror over how fast Michael is and fucking Pete all around her from her nightmare still clearing out that it's Linda who is actually in the room with her.

The shrink sighs and leads her through exercises, gets her breathing normally again, and there's a shot soon in Ella's arm. That she remembers from hospitals as a teenager. It's to calm her. They always say that. And it works of course; Ella gets floaty at first, then comes the darkness, and she's sleeping too deeply to dream.

When Ella wakes up next and the biggest bouquet of flowers-and they are bright red carnations, nothing even close to lilies-are on the bedside table and a stuffed animal raccoon is beside them. It is wearing an elf hat and possibly one of the dumbest toys she's ever seen, but Ella loves it immediately anyway. Her throat is so dry, and that goes with the meds too.

Ella forces herself to sit up and works hard to fight her hangover and the dizziness from whatever Linda used to stop the attack.

Reaching out, she greedily opens and sips down a bottle of sparkling water. Then, she finally lets her mind focus on the sights before her. In the far corner of the room, Linda is sitting patiently. She has a tablet that she sets on the floor as she hops up to see Ella. Her check in with the stethoscope is perfunctory and professional, and Linda also grabs a blood pressure cuff she must have brought with her to check Ella's vitals.

The doctor shakes her head and sighs. "That's still about 150 over 90. I know it'll ease back down as the panic dies out. It was closer to 165 when I got here. I…oh, Ella, what have you been doing?"

Ella sighs and feels seventeen again, and like she did when Mamí and Abuelita caught her sneaking out with one of Ricardo's friends to make out and more in his Camaro. The censure in Linda's voice isn't as bad, but it's definitely there.

"We're friends. It got too late to drive. Linda, we didn't." She doesn't offer the simple truth that if Michael were ready and were comfortable with himself, then Ella very much would have. It's not really Linda's business, except she's an impromptu GP for this situation, working on Christmas Eve and out of her specialty, and Ella should be better.

But she doesn't owe even her good friend and one of her tribe the truth about her relationships. Not yet.

Linda arches an eyebrow at her but doesn't continue on the same track when she speaks. "Ella, you know what Michael is, don't you?"

"An angel, got it. Amenadiel too, and Lucifer's the Devil. Totally."

"Yes, I gathered when he showed up in my kitchen unannounced and was panicking over you that you knew. Although I need to talk to Lucifer more about keeping me in the damn loop." Linda pulls a thermometer out of her bag. It's not really needed, but Ella supposes vitals are vitals and a baseline is always helpful. "No, I meant, do you understand their powers?"

"Michael didn't do this on purpose. He wouldn't. I had a nightmare, and he got scared when I had a panic attack after. But, you know, he gets upset, and he can't control what he does. It all just made me worse and it spiraled."

Linda purses her lips and nods at the reading on the thermometer she just held up to Ella's ear. "Yes, but you can't tell me that he sometimes doesn't do that deliberately, Ella."

"He'd never. I always have bad dreams about Pete, and that's fucking Pete's fault."

Linda's expression softens, and she grips Ella's hand. "I think I understand what happened here. I get that if Michael had caused this deliberately, he'd hardly beg the only doctor her knows and, to be honest, endure a beating from Amenadiel to get me here."

"A what?"

"The boys got into a fight before I could stop it. Amenadiel jumped to the same conclusion I did, and he slugged Michael in the eye. His right one is pretty swollen. He's in the other room holding a steak over it."

Ella swears fiercely in Spanish and Klingon; she's that pissed before settling on English. "I can't believe he did that." She's struggling out of bed and almost falls until Linda steadies her on the left. "Okay, maybe I also need the number of the bus that hit me."

"You really should stay in bed. I won't go home till at least sunset to make sure your blood pressure gets back to normal. You gave both of us a huge scare."

Ella nods. "I can see that, but Amenadiel hit him?"

"He thought Michael had hurt you on purpose. You can't really blame Amenadiel for thinking that, not after everything Michael's done."

Ella sighs. "I don't know everything Michael's done, just guessed there is a lot of it."

"There is."

"But I do know that he didn't mean to scare me worse than a Pete nightmare already did. I just need to make sure he's okay. I won't be able to rest until I do."

Linda tsks to herself. "Not long, I mean it about bedrest. I'm sorry too, but I don't think that going to services in person tonight is good for you, Ella. You need to really stay calm. I'd ask you to go back to your place, but I doubt I'll get you to let me drive your car over for you."

"How'd you get here?"

"Michael flew me. It was a first, and it was bumpy," Linda chirps.

They make their way little by little (and without her puking, dizzy as she is) down the hallway and to the kitchen. Ella finds Michael at his table holding a steak to his face, just as Linda promised, with his good hand and with half a bottle of Vodka open before him.

She sighs, and it feels like forever even if it's not before Linda can ease her into the chair beside him. Ella offers Linda what she hopes is a polite enough smile when all she wants to do is scream. "Hey, can you maybe go in the living room? You can see the tree, and then, I dunno, you should probably call Amenadiel with an update."

"Yes, Big Brother was very upset about Lopez. Maybe let him know I didn't cut her into a million pieces or sell her organs on the black market."

Ella watches the frosty-at-best exchange unfurl between Linda and Michael. The doctor regards him, her gaze steely, before speaking. "Michael, you can't blame Amenadiel for being worried. You know how you treated Charlie and-"

"I never touched your brat. I just took advantage of his first cold. It's hardly my fault the First Born has a mortal kid. I didn't do it. I just…fuck it, Linda, go and at least tell Menny that Lopez is better. He's made it more than clear he'll never believe that I'd never hurt her. But at least let him and Sam by proxy know she's safe. I might have failed that this morning, but I'd never hurt her on purpose."

Linda's expression is still pinched. "I'm not sure I believe that. I do think you believe it."

"Thanks," Michael spits out.

Ella can't bear it and sets her hand over his right one on the table. Shivers erupt over her skin, and he almost yanks his hand back but she won't let him. It's not his fault he's like this, and she doesn't want him to think this will scare her off.

It won't. Not after he stood up for her to her family, not after he gave her the truth after Lucifer and her friends hid it for so so long. After Rae Rae turned her life to shit as a kid.

"But you're dangerous, Michael, and you shouldn't be near any of us. Whatever fights you have with Amenadiel and Lucifer need to stay between you three," Linda says.

Michael slips the steak off his face, and Ella winces at the way his right eye is completely swollen shut. "Well, then tell your baby daddy that I've gotten the message loud and clear. I still will never hurt Lopez if I can help it."

Linda pinches the bridge of her nose. "I am not saying that, and I am letting my feelings as a mother cloud my advice. Still, Ella had quite the panic attack today, and she's still got heightened blood pressure from the episode. You may not mean to be dangerous, Michael, but you are, and you should think about what's best for Ella if you really care about her as you say you do. I…you're right, let me give you both space so I can call Amenadiel."

Linda wastes no time striding out the door and to the patio, and it's a welcome relief when it is eased shut behind her. Ella still waits until Linda's halfway across the yard and has her cell to her ear.

Then she turns and kisses Michael's swollen eye gently. "You didn't have to risk getting punched for me."

Michael snorts. "Trust me, Sam and Menny have had their shots at me before and will again."

"I thought you said if they need help with demons or monsters or whatever they call you."

"In a year, they've needed me for extra muscle about four times. It's just business, not a bonding activity. But, yeah, this was the first time I've had to 'talk' to Amenadiel really in a year," he says, making an air quote with his left hand. "I can't even blame him. I fucked up, Lopez. I want to hate him and the doctor and everyone for being pissed at me, but I can't help but think Samael was right all along: I do fuck up everything I touch."

Ella feels her heart pound in a way that has nothing to do with Pete for once and everything to do with thinking she might lose Michael. They'd been pretty good friends and museum buddies for a while, and even if he owed her more explanations about why her friends hate him, she thought they were building something here too.

He's not moving on from Los Angeles, is he?

From her too?

She grips his right hand so hard in her own that if he were a mortal, he'd be wincing. As it is, Michael doesn't seem to register the difference. And it's another reminder in a boatload today for the first time what dating an angel means. He's so very other, but it's not his fault.

"You don't, though. Pete did this, Mike. I have nightmares from him and everything he did. But this is the first time I've had one near you. I didn't know it would just create a feedback loop with you, and I'm betting you didn't know either."

Michael snorts and finally pulls his hand away. She feels the loss of contact sharply but doesn't press. "I didn't, but I know I can't comfort anyone, Lopez. I'm no good at it. And now I know how badly I just fuck it up. You were scared so I got scared but then…" he trails off and looks away from her, turning his head so that she gets a front row seat to the eye Amenadiel has currently wounded.

"Does it hurt?"

"I fucking hate that I made you so scared."

"No, I mean your eye? Does it hurt?"

Michael offers her a wide-eyed look (well for the left eye), and she feels weird in a way. No one ever looks at her like this, like she's a goddess or something. She's always been "just Ella" or worse yet, "Crazy Ella," but he definitely doesn't look at her that way.

"It'll be fine in a day or two. No worries. It hurts, but even Celestial wounds don't last long. Now demon steel is another story."

"Oh boy."

"Yup, but I didn't mean to terrify you. I just…Linda's right. I need to leave. For one, the mall's gonna close before I get your present. For another, I just…you'll feel calmer if I'm not here. You need space to recover, and we established I'm about the least comforting thing you can be near."

"You're not!"

And she means both that he's not a thing and that he's not discomforting, but she can't really say more than that because the sadness in his expression is so heavy that it's making her throat close up. Instead, Ella tries to show him by wrapping her arm awkwardly around his shoulder, but he's so much taller than she. It's a far, awkward reach. But Ella manages.

Mike has to get that she doesn't fault him for this.

She's the one who dated Pete, who trusted him when her instincts told her better, and who can't stop the night terrors no matter how much Ella wishes she could. Just another in a long line of fucking terrible dating decisions, and she hopes come the 26th that Michael isn't another one.

He doesn't feel like it, but her mistakes have all added up over the years, and she's painfully aware of that too.

Michael sighs and she knows he wants to leave, can feel him perched on the edge of his chair, but he still relaxes in her grip and sets his forehead against her own. "Lopez, I'm so sorry you had to keep reliving what Pete did because of me. I'd never hurt you. At least not if I can help it, and I hate that I couldn't. I've never been close enough-emotionally I mean-with a human before to realize when shit hits the fan, I just make things that much Dad-damned worse."

Ella moves to kiss the tip of his, totally keeping in one hundred here, but still ample nose. "Yeah, well I can make a lot of things spiral by talking too much, Michael. I get worked up, I babble, it gets out of control in like a chain reaction too."

He laughs, and it's so broken a sound that it tears into her heart. "True, but I gave you a fucking panic attack, and I didn't even want to. It was the last thing I wanted. I've never wished for any other stupid gift from Dad more. Can you imagine how much better anything would be if I were desire instead like Samael?"

Ella blushes and leans back in her seat, hoping Mike doesn't notice the flushed coloring her cheeks must have by now. The idea of a feedback loop of mutual pleasure is a lot, and Chloe must be a lucky girl. No, wait, the miracle thing. Damn then, girl's missing out. She shakes herself out of her thoughts before they go way too Skinemax and offers Michael a smile even as she squeezes his hand.

"I get it though. You don't get to pick your powers any more than I got to pick if Rae Rae was gonna appear to me or not and make me the think I was seeing a ghost. I mean, until now, I just thought I was like a really specific medium. Well, I hoped that was it and not that I'm nuts."

"You're not," Michael replies, his voice a low growl that warms her belly.

"Yeah, and I get you can't stop the spiraling, but it was the first time that ever happened. There's no reason you can't learn better control with fear."

"I won't use you as a guinea pig."

"No, but we can figure something out," she says, and an idea blossoms in her mind, something she can add to Michael's gift pile…if she can get him to agree, and Linda to sign off on it. But she's not too worried. Ella's been told she's pretty persuasive when she wants to be.

Or, at least, she has a talent for wearing people down.

"Maybe," he replies and finally stands. She wants to argue at the lack of contact, but soon Linda will be back and marching her to the guest room for bedrest. "Lopez, I have to get your gifts, but I will be back and tomorrow we'll do gifts. I'm sorry I made you so sick that you won't be able to go to service. I know you wanted to share that with me."

She smiles back at him. "I'm happy as long as we're together. I'm sure being in the presence of an angel counts as keeping this time holy enough."

Michael snickers. "Making out with an angel isn't Mass."

"It should count as a religious experience." She winks at him and her heart lightens when he finally smiles back at her. She's glad she can still reach him a little. "No worries, I have one other gift I need to get, uh, ordered."

"It'll deliver by tonight?"

"I have my wiles."

He bends down and kisses her lips, and Michael, even if he's banned from heaven, still shouldn't taste this much like sin. But he does. "Don't I know it. Look, I'll be back but only when Linda clears it. I just…I couldn't bear to lose you. I figure I will when you hear all the shit I pulled, but I want to give you a good Christmas before then, and I just-"

"I can't promise anything, but I am going to listen to you, Michael. I'm going to try, and I don't care if I can go to services for once or not. If I'm with you for Christmas, then it's exactly where I need to be."

"I'll think of something," he offers and turns toward the doorway. "I'll keep in touch with Linda to just see when you're blood pressure is calm enough for me to be back. Lopez…Ella, I'm so so sorry."

She gets the feeling Michael never says these words because she's rarely heard them, even addressed to her, and also because they sound foreign on his tongue, like he's trying out a phrase in Spanish and the intonation just isn't quite right. Ella can see how he's trying, and she appreciates that.

Appreciates him more than she can say.

"I know you are, and I care about you, and this isn't your fault. I blame Pete."

"That's true, and I wish…I know better than anyone that fear isn't rational, but I hate that he keeps causing you pain. You're so much better than him, Lopez." Michael shrugs and his right shoulder moves less than his left as he does it. "Better than me."

She shakes her head. "No, no me digas. Stop saying that. I'm not. I'm messed up. I stole cars and counted so many cards that Vegas won't really let me gamble there, period. I'm not perfect, Michael, and I never was. I'm not just a perky nerd. I am that, but I'm messed up too, and I like that you can see that about me. Don't think you're worse than I am. I'm fucked up too, and that's why we fit."

Michael nods briskly, even as he shoves both hands in his coat pockets. "Yeah, but I still drove my girlfriend into shock, and nothing you can do as a mortal would top that. Not ever."

She tries to object but there's that speed again, and he's just gone as if he'd never been there. In a way, Ella's glad, because she has nothing but platitudes to offer him. Yeah, Michael can hurt her-even accidentally-in ways that she can never imagine. He's that strong, but deep down, she knows emotionally speaking that she has all the control here.

It's an awesome, quite literally, thought.

And all she wants is to make him smile, and Ella has an idea on that…now if only she can get Linda to cooperate with her.