Well at Least There Was Pie

by legendarytobes

Set nebulously after season 5 and on the assumption Michael manages to at least not get banished and stops mostly being a dick. However, Ella might have embellished some things to get her family off her back. Now her family is visiting for Thanksgiving and she needs to come up with a fake boyfriend stat... (standalone, unrelated to any other Michaella story of mine)

Well, at Least There Was Pie…

Michael blamed himself for this mess.

Alright, mostly he blamed Lopez, but he was only in this situation because he hadn't learned to leave well enough alone and not associate with Lopez at all. After his Dad broke up everything almost a year ago at the precinct and gave the 86 on his going back home (not that Michael could do that alone with a bum wing or would want to with all his siblings watching the Samael and Chloe show like it was a fucking romcom), Michael could at least admit he'd been listless.

And he could have moved anywhere else besides L.A.

After all, he did not seek his brothers out. He did not live near them. Don't get him wrong, Michael was far from the saint the humans had made him. He might have been banned, but he felt no compunction about earning an honest living either. Sam's night club had ecstasy sold there for fuck's sake, and even that pet detective of his just looked the other way. And Amenadiel, as far as Michael could still tell, either bummed off Chucky's mother or Samael's extensive bank account. So, in a way, all the angels or mostly he knew on earth were not exactly living honestly.

If it was good enough for everyone's beloved Lucifer, then it was good enough for him.

So, he had a home in Laguna Beach that he'd gotten by, alright, scaring out the former owners who were looking to move anyway-they had a sign and everything-and moving in. Car was gotten similarly from a used lot and with playing expertly on the salesman's fear of the FBI tracking him down for a surprising amount of wire fraud. For daily expenses, a bit of poker worked and, sometimes, he hustled people at trivia because if you'd been around for all of time and not been distracted by fucking most of the Western Hemisphere, you knew your shit.

So, yes, he had some decent things and a life that at least had some events to it. Poker and bar trivia didn't win themselves after all. Bonus was that with everything under the table, Michael could welch easily on taxes too. However, his day could only be filled with so much winning (not fleecing thank you), and he'd developed side hobbies.

Like, okay, sue him. Sometimes he went to museums.

And at one about eight months ago, he'd bumped into one Ella Lopez, who had known enough to know about him but even now was completely unaware of what he was or Samael was by extension. Michael found that foolish considering even now that douchebag knew (thanks to him but still), but he had no interest in giving someone who had seemed a bit lost an existential crisis either.

So, he just went with it. Said a few nice things to her and grabbed an overpriced meal of chicken tenders at the La Brea Tar Pits and Museum and figured that would be that.

But he got bored and still felt like museum bumming when streaming, sleeping, or hustling wasn't enough. L.A. was a large city but somehow, every so often, he found himself bumping into Lopez at different venues.

Eventually, maybe a five months ago, they started planning trips together, taking tours as a small duo. Hell, last week, she'd gotten a good studio tour for both of them on the Warner lot. Michael hadn't quite gotten the full story on the VIP treatment, but Ella had mentioned that their last case had resulted in a very happy and generous TV series star giving great tickets to the team and she figured why not. After all, he'd never been to L.A. before (and he hadn't), so Lopez wanted to show him all Tinsel Town was famous for.

It was fun.

Yeah, shocked Michael too.

However, that did not make Lopez's current ask any less insane, inconvenient, and an utter no-go.

They met up today at the California Science Museum. Granted a favorite of hers and he was, he could admit, oddly fascinated and into the astronaut ice cream at the gift shop. This was their fourth time here. And he should have known she was buttering him up for something when she offered to pay for everything including extra his usual amount of said astronaut ice cream from the gift shop (and that stuff was expensive, damn mark ups).

Michael blinked back at Lopez with one fry halfway to his mouth. "You want what now?"

She blushed and started into a world class rant so fast that if he had been human, Michael wasn't sure he could have understood it all. "Look, okay, so I've been avoiding going back to Detroit for years. And for a while they bought the whole 'I'm really busy solving crime' thing."

Michael dropped his fry and eyed her. "You are busy."

"Sure, but Jay of all people wanted to see how I was. I mean I was on leave for a while after...nevermind. And now he's all super pushy about seeing me. I said I was too busy to leave L.A., you know how it is, but he suggested that he and Ricardo-who has friends here still-and Mamí and Abuelita come out. I mean, Dad and César and Alejandro can't. More like Dad has not the best health so flying's hard on him and my other two brothers' wives can't get off so..."

Michael nodded as if he'd kept track of half of that. "How many relatives do you have?"

"A ton! When we all get together in Detroit, it's like us but then I have lots of cousins of my mom's there and César and Alejandro's wives' families and it can be like forty people, easy. I thought you would get it a little. I mean you and Lucifer have a big family, I'm guessing."

"Siblings I hardly know," he replied.

"Yeah, so really just Jay, Ricardo, and my mom and grandma...not huge, but I might have, okay, just a little let them think I still had a boyfriend."

"But you don't."

He had never asked her directly asked her about that. He knew, not only because once Sam and Menny together had taken a page out of the Godfather and come to menace him after the first museum hangout with Ella (and that truly had been coincidence) and tell him about how her last relationship had been traumatizing without going into it. But then there was more to her last relationship as Michael could feel it. He never used his powers directly on Ella, had no real interest and nothing to gain from it, but he had seen enough glimpses from her in unguarded moments to know everything one Pete Daly had done to her.

And if he ever saw another lily in his long, not yet Dad-damned life, it would be too soon.

Also, Daly might have, just a little, been visited some time back in the summer and be a blubbering, incoherent mess while awaiting trial. Never a good idea to annoy the angel of fear, really.

However, as far as Ella had ever told him over their hangouts, she'd had a relationship end badly, had needed time off from work, and was now just taking things one day at a time. Apparently, her family still thought Pete was a factor.

Not great.

Like don't get him wrong. Lying was fun, but family always figured the bullshit out eventually and the boomerang effect was real and grating.

"Okay, so you just tell Jay to shove it," Michael continued. "Then you explain you're not seeing that, uh, guy anymore, and you and I can do Thanksgiving with frozen pizza, lots of alcohol, and watching that dumbass balloon thing you keep talking about."

She shook her head. "I can't! They already pressure me all the time to come home. If they knew how bad stuff with Pete actually got, and that I had to really...if they knew, they'd drag me home. I need to get them to relax so I might have, kind of, just a little said sure."

"Okay? So that's you and Margaret the chicken hosting a party at your tiny ass apartment. I don't see why you need to bring this up to me, Lopez."

"Well, I didn't tell them Pete's name, just said I was dating and he was nice and then when they asked too much, I'd say he had to travel a lot, you know so he was often in Canada."

"Great, sounds totally plausible," Michael mused. "What are you actually getting at? I think if you put Margaret in drag, they're still gonna notice the feathers."

"Can you help me?"

"I can call your brother and tell him to shove it this close to Turkey Day, sure," Michael said, deciding to at least finish his soda. Ella had paid for it, but it was still a shame to go to waste.

She rolled her eyes. "No, I mean they don't know my ex's name or what he looks like, so I just need a fill-in for a day."

Michael swallowed, hard. And his eyes watered a bit as he coughed on the Coke. "What? Lopez, you're not serious."

"You have a house. It's big enough to do the actual meal thing. I will buy everything, cook it all, and they only have to visit it for a few hours from the hotel. That's it. I'll even just move in a little bit of my collectibles to sell it and move 'em right back out, 'k? I just need to borrow you cause you're a guy for maybe ten hours. I mean, you just admitted you don't have any other plans."

"Not official ones. It didn't mean I wanted in the middle of some crazy family feud either."

She stilled and her eyes teared up despite everything and her own walls dropped, not that she knew she had them. Not that humans had them in the traditional way he did. However, when Ella got agitated, her thoughts of Pete come back, and with them, the noxious scent of lilies and the spiking heat of hothouse lamps.

It made Michael pull surreptitiously at his turtle neck's collar.

"I can't. I just...they'll convince me to go back to Detroit, and I don't want to but I don't know if I can say no to all four of them at once, either."

"Look, I get it. I hate my family too-"

"I don't hate them!"

"You're begging me, a guy you only casually hang out with a few times a month to fake having been your boyfriend of over a year-at my house no less-to avoid telling them the truth." He picked up another fry and shoved it in his mouth before replying. "Whatever is going on there? Not all hugs and puppies either, Lopez."

"I love my family. They're just a lot. And two of my brothers are married and have kids and my mom and abuelita are very much pressuring me for kids and that whole domestic thing too and I can't just do the pressure alone."

Michael snorted. "Well, I can't help you with the latter. Literally."

Her eyes went wide, and she sputtered in front of him. "I didn't ask and huh?"

He rolled his eyes. "Ask Sam. That's his schtick, right? Devil yadda yadda. Anyway, go with it, different species."

"You guys and this whole method thing-"

Right, that.

Humans and denial still never ceased to amaze him, even when after exposure to him most dashed away from Michael fully aware of his subtle wrongness. However, few were as committed to believing Samael was just an actor as Ella. A bit odd for a woman of faith, but that wasn't his business. Not really.

"Anyway, I'm definitely not giving you a baby, and if you borrowed Chucky for the afternoon, that's probably gonna raise so many questions."

"Dude!" She emphasized, slapping the table. "I just need your house, a little set dressing, and for you to pretend we're a thing."

Michael shrugged, groaning under his breath when his bad shoulder barely moved. He had to give Lopez credit, she never treated him with his slanted posture, occasional limp depending on what time of day it was, and his fucked-up face any differently than anyone else she met. Ella had made the mistake of asking him once during a movie marathon at her tiny shoebox of a place-squawking chicken in the bathroom an unasked for bonus-a while back about his injury.

Probably cause she'd been half asleep and too hopped up on margaritas. She'd never asked again after he'd left early at that.

Still, it was appreciated that she was the only person he interacted with who didn't stare.

"Alright, and this is more Sam's department, the favor thing, but what's in it for me?"

"I make a mean turkey."

"I don't even like turkey."

She sighed and flung her ponytail over her shoulder. "What do you want?"

He frowned and considered that. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he wanted from her. He had all he needed financially or supply-wise speaking. Whatever he lacked, he could scare out of someone. Pretty easy. He had long since abandoned any idea of getting back in Sam's little inner circle. Time nowhere near his twin or even his stick in the mud oldest sibling was a blessing.

And yet...

This was a big ask, and he wanted to make it worth his time, whether he was busy or not.

Michael drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table. "I do this, fake the perfect boyfriend deal, and get your family to back off, then I want an I.O.U., Lopez. Open-ended and to be claimed later."

"Ooh, you want me to steal you a car? I haven't done it in a while, and it's wrong but I'm super desperate."

Michael blinked. He knew Lopez had a history of busting casinos in Vegas (again, she loosened her lips with enough tequila in her) and that she picked locks effortlessly after one time where he'd lost the keys to his place. However, the grand theft auto was new.

He wondered if Sam knew how interesting his pet scientist actually was.

The novelty shirts and, Dad help him, obsession with Star Trek just distracted from it.

"No, I don't need a new car. I'm good, but I don't know what I want back, but I definitely want to make good on my chips when the time comes. So, deal then? I get you out of this mess, and you owe me."

"Fine but I don't have that much money."

He snorted. "Don't insult me. I don't need cash. Besides, if I ever got real desperate, I'd just sneak into Sam's penthouse and steal a few credit cards. Not like he ever locks anything."

Ella quirked her head at him again. "I cannot see Lucifer as a 'Sam.' I mean, I knew that's not his real name cause it's all some weird way too deep in it acting thing, I guess. But what? 'Samuel Morningstar?' Nah."

"Not what the 'Sam' actually stands for, but to be fair, my twin isn't as interesting as he wishes he were."

Probably a lie. Being the Devil seemed complicated from where Michael sat, but still, Lucifer wasn't as interesting as he wanted to be because, even now, Sam was a consummate narcissist. No being on any plane could ever be as interesting as Samael thought himself to be.

Ever.

"Anyway, fine," Ella said. "You drive a hard bargain, but I'll bring my stuff over to your place tomorrow to sell it."

"But Thanksgiving is a week away!"

"I have to photoshop some stuff too. You think Decker's a good detective? You've never met my abuelita. She can sniff out a mentira from miles away. But great!"

Michael stood as she did. It always took him a beat longer than even a human to get back on solid footing, to avoid a stumble, but he did it and feeling extra generous today, even took her tray to toss out with his good hand.

"Fine, but man, Lopez, keep a running tab. You owe me."

After a week, Michael was pretty sure there was nothing on earth Ella could do for him that would make up for this. At least that fucking chicken hadn't been dragged into this. Probably only because Margaret hated him. Well, tough. Just because they had feathers in common apparently didn't make them friends.

However, over the past week, Ella had moved in about twenty of those Funko bobbleheads, which now took up every surface, framed posters from movies and shows he mostly couldn't name, and gone to town outfitting his kitchen with so many pots, pans, and bowls that he was pretty sure he was ready for Master Chef.

How hard was cooking one bird anyway?

Oh, and that was just the start. She hadn't been kidding about photoshopping more than a few photos so that she could pretend they had a real history together and, okay, at least she was good at it so her mom and grandma probably wouldn't notice. Even odds her brothers would but still.

And then there was his bedroom suite.

Dear Father what even?

She had picked the sheets to make it really authentic, and he should be glad that they weren't from some sci-fi series she was always rambling on about. He did not need muppets on his sheets. However, it was a painfully bright floral pattern with pink roses and other things that felt nothing like her and probably everything she'd pulled out to try and please her mother. And of course Hurricane Ella had blown through his bathroom too. Because Little Ms. I-Investigate-Crime-Scenes-for-a-Living knew every base had to be covered, and she'd also gone as far as moving her toiletries into his space.

Granted, Michael was Spartan at the best of times and kept some toothpaste, mouthwash, and a brush for whatever he needed. Technically a razor and shaving cream too, but he trimmed himself erratically, more like catch as catch can. However, now, he had makeup palettes of all types strewn everywhere, more grooming products than he could name, and other unmentionable things that as both a guy and an angel he knew of but had never wanted to be near in his immortal life.

In short, even if she was still at her place, Ella had moved in enough to make it look like all of this was legitimate.

Michael had the fuzzy pink covering over his toilet lid to prove it.

As well as the anxious forensic scientist in his kitchen since 6 a.m.-seriously, what was wrong with turkeys that it took that long-cursing to herself in three languages (Klingon had been among them; he'd been informed) and now working on a sweet potato dish that somehow took 45 minutes to mix but looked like orange gunk to him.

And he was, for the first time in a very long time, perhaps since Father had busted his fight with his brothers up, pretty damn scared.

He was angel enough to admit that, at least to himself.

Michael sighed after leaving his now very girly bedroom and en suite and inched into his kitchen. Lopez was covered in cinnamon and sugar all over her cheeks which was, alright, a little adorable, and taking about the eighth spoon in a row to taste her mixture.

"Uh, do you need help?"

"Can you cook at all?" She snapped, and note to self, kitten had claws.

"Well, I know how to microwave things now."

At first, he truly had not. Hazard of being new to earth. He'd blown up two microwaves before he understood fully the no metal rule, but he was pretty good with frozen dinners currently.

"No, that's fine. Look, you have all the chips and dip laid out and the beverages and the extra ice, right?"

"Yup, and that stupid football stuff now that the balloon thing is over."

"Parade, Michael. Seriously, where are you three from anyway?"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Well, ask Sam, he says heaven. I'll admit we're not from here at all, but Sam's accent is still fake as anything so not England either."

"Somewhere there's no football?"

"Yup."

"Raro," she huffed to herself as she finished the mixture and poured it into a giant Pyrex bowl. "Look they said they were getting in by eleven and Ricardo texted me from LAX. Now they're just trying to get out here which in a way is good cause the traffic is working for us. On the other hand, they'll be here soon so just, you know, distract my brothers. Mamí will commandeer the kitchen for her recipes. And abuelita..." Ella frowned. "Actually, she might watch the game with you all if only to you know, not gonna lie here, dude, keep an eye on you."

"So, this is a test for me for a relationship I don't have?"

"Oh, no," she said, giggling a little manically as she moved onto the green bean slop. He wasn't sure why mushroom soup was involved but he'd seen cans of it all over grocery stores for weeks now. "Because you're cute. She's pretty frisky for her age. I think she'll wanna oggle."

Michael bristled at that. "I think you must be partially blind, Lopez, or confuse me too much with Sam. I doubt your grandmother would think anything more about me than anyone else does."

Ella stopped mixing up the green bean...nope, slop, he was still going with the word slop...and regarded him with those wide, brown eyes of hers. For all his own gifts, sometimes he swore that Ella could see into his soul. It was off putting.

"And what do you think people see?"

"Nothing good," he admitted, voice low. "Samael is the performer, the well-coiffed and perfect one." On the surface anyway, and except with perhaps his detective and his therapist, Sam kept a tight leash on his uglier, more demonic side. No one among his throngs of fans and sycophants in the crowds at Lux knew about it. That much was certain. "I am what I am-at best a used-up soldier and, at worst, a bit of a con artist. But no one...I know I make people uncomfortable, Lopez."

"You don't make me feel that way."

He could feel even with his walls firmly up the hint of goosebumps perking up all over her skin. For what it was worth, most of the time, he worked hard to put her at ease and keep his ability clamped down tightly around her, but he was always odd and wrong. Even with as controlled as he could be, the surface level anxiety he amped up remained in any room, although it seemed that Ella was at least more worried about being caught in her kind yet obvious lie than worried about anything from him.

It was something.

Michael tried to smile but was sure on his face it came out as a grimace. "It's nice and a little weird for you to say your grandma might find me anything, but we both know it's not true. I can tell that from people giving me a wide berth wherever I walk. I can clear a whole exhibit hall."

And he had and more than once in her presence.

Although the one time, he had meant it because a screaming class of fifth graders was ruining their Friday at La Plaza de Cultura y Artes.

She still smiled back at him. "You know, most of L.A. has probably had sex with Lucifer."

"Oh, I'm aware."

He had never asked if Ella had, and he really would rather not know. Honestly, with as long as she'd been around his twin, Michael just assumed she had.

"So, I mean he's attractive, and you're identical."

Michael glared at her and stood as evenly as he could, which after a morning of prep and cleaning was not very. "We very much aren't anymore, Lopez."

"And a lot of chicks and dudes dig scars so..."

Michael frowned. "I don't...that must not be true."

"I think it is. Anyway, abuelita is eight-five and most men in her age group, well, they're already muerto, so she might be flirty anyway. Good luck!"

"If she gets handsy, I swear to Da...God, Lopez."

"You promised."

"I promised to help you lie which is, alright, my thing. I didn't agree to be this afternoon's entertainment."

Ella winked at him. "Didn't you? Now, seriously, maybe get out more coasters."

"I don't own whatever those are."

"God, what country are you from again? Also, now you do, so check the top drawer by the stove."

Michael blinked at her and grumbled to himself as he complied. "You are moving back out tomorrow. You know, that right?"

"Yeah, but for now? Move it!"

It fell to Michael to open the door because Ella was dealing with basting the turkey (again, and what was the deal with this one meat that it was so hard to make). When he did, Michael was confronted with a little old lady in a bright floral dress who grinned greedily up at him, a woman maybe a decade or so older than Linda with dark hair in braids down her back, and two guys who could not have been more opposite. Michael could relate. One was almost as short as Ella and was in jeans and a t-shirt. The tattoos on his neck were of angel wings, and Michael just barely refrained at rolling his eyes. Or from pointing out that it was paradoxical for someone devout to even have such a thing as they were verboten in Leviticus but whatever. The other man was in a pair of slacks and a burnt orange button down shirt and was about Espinoza's size. He looked professional and well put together.

And the second he saw Michael's face, all the color drained from his own.

"Hello," Michael replied flatly, already doubting he could pull this whole farce off. "Ella's told me so much about you."

True. There had been flash cards.

Michael had rarely been more bored in his life.

He bent low and kissed her mother and then her grandmother on both cheeks and then took t-shirt dude's hand and gave it a firm shake with his left side. Michael reached for the other one's hand, but the well-dressed brother stepped back and yelped.

Even with a tight rein on his powers, Michael could feel the fear pouring off this one-Jay apparently-in buckets. Oh, so Sam and he had met before. And my-my, so much more had happened on that trip.

"Hey, uh, honey." Michael was a liar, not an actor, and he was so sure someone would hear the hesitance in his voice. But maybe he had hours of jet lag working for him because they just bustled past him and into the living room. "Ella, they're here!"

Save me.

Ella stepped out of the kitchen and by now was in a pair of black pants and an actual dressy top, something red that Michael very much enjoyed. It was, honestly, the nicest thing he'd ever seen her in. The effect was probably marred a bit by the small, green and very big-eared alien on her apron.

Yogi or something. He really didn't keep track.

"Mamí! Abuelita, pasen no más! I have so much going on in the kitchen that I need to keep an eye on. I mean, Michael has the guys covered, don't you?"

He glared at her but nodded. "I am sure between the three of us we have more than enough refreshment and large men in padding trying to give each other brain damage to last us a while."

Ricardo, who had to be the brother in the t-shirts, gave him a double take. "Huh, figures your boyfriend is weird, Ella."

Michael reminded himself he was not allowed to smite humans, and that since Ella didn't know putting the fear of well, himself, in her brother wouldn't help either. Instead, he glared back at the asshole and shrugged. "I'm not a big sportsball person. I don't see the point, but if you two like it, then eat, drink, and be merry. I guess you could help in the kitchen too, Ricky, but I doubt that's your style."

Ella's grandmother shook her head and said something terse at Ricardo in Spanish before looking back at Michael. "Don't mind him. He's sharp tongued sometimes."

"So am I," Michael replied, opening his first beer of the day. He couldn't get drunk unless inhuman amounts of alcohol were involved, but Dad damn it if he wasn't going to try for this mess.

Ella swallowed but kept the plastic smile on her face just enough. "So Mamí and Abuelita, you want to come?"

Her grandmother sat next to him on the sofa and patted his knee. Huh, so Lopez had called that one. He supposed compared to being six feet under, he had a certain appeal. A pulse helped. "Oh, no, nieta, I'm great. You and Raquel get to cooking. I should keep an eye on the boys."

"A referee, yippee," Michael drawled and then guzzled his drink. "Lo...honey..." Seriously kill him now. "...anyway, we'll be fine."

Her grandmother patted his knee again and if she were anyone else, he'd have taken the hand by now. "Por seguro, nieta."

Ella eyed them all, the tension clear in her posture and in the tiny scent of lilies Michael could feel around him. He sighed and offered her a genuine, reassuring smile, marred as it was by his face. "Ella, I have it. You and your mom finish dinner and let me know when to set the table, okay?"

She nodded and shocked the hell out of him by marching across his living room, kissing him on the mouth-which was far from unpleasant and he honestly wouldn't have minded more of that-and then patting his good shoulder. "Corazón, thank you. I appreciate it."

Michael was kind of in a fog for a while as she went back to the kitchen with her mom. But it didn't last long. While Ricardo and Ella's grandmother had been drawn into some kind of back and forth in Spanish (and it was Sam who spoke everything, not him), Jay was staring at him as if he could kill Michael with a glance.

Not likely, but damn if Jay wasn't trying.

Michael sighed, stood, and then nodded to his backyard. "Jay, why do I have a feeling you want to grill me about my intentions with your little sister. That's an archaic tradition if ever I've seen one, but if you must, then I suppose it's part of all the riggermerole."

Jay said nothing but kept his icy glare on Michael. To be fair, he gave Ella's oldest brother a modicum of credit. He could feel it. Samael had shown Jay enough of what he was for Jay to know. So, as far as Jay understood, he was dealing with someone clearly not human and sticking up for his baby sister anyway. Naive, foolish, and utterly pointless since Michael wasn't like that with Ella and, also, he could curb stomp Jay where he stood. After all, scaring a human into a catatonic mess wasn't something Father gave a damn about.

Just ask Pete Daly.

Or about half of Sam's interrogation subjects down at the station.

Still, it was impressive that a human who knew even thought he could threaten the Sword of God. At least Ella had one brother who wasn't a complete burnout.

They got to his backyard, small patch of grass that it was, and he'd barely shut the sliding glass door before Jay had rounded on him. Michael found the crucifix leveled at him a bit much. Even if he were Sam, it wouldn't and couldn't do any good.

Silly humans.

"What game is this, pendejo? What happened to the British schtick, and did you take Ella's soul yet?"

Michael laughed. He doubled over so hard laughing that he almost stumbled. It was annoying sure, but it was also amusing. This human was probably dumber than he was brave. If he'd really confronted an actual, pissed off Devil with so little to defend himself, well, Sam would have driven him crazy already.

Ella's brother didn't take Michael's outburst well, not that Jay had been taking anything well since he'd come through the door. "I didn't say anything funny."

Michael forced himself to stand and still chuckled at the crucifix thrust in his face. If Ella's brother started reading him rites, he'd fall over right there. He knew it.

"First, I can explain that. Sa...Lucifer has a lot of siblings. I mean God and the Goddess were always busy."

Jay dropped his hand but didn't back down into his own personal space. "Wait, there's a Goddess?"

"Yes, well, Mom's not mentioned much or at all because it wasn't an amicable divorce." There'd been a flood involved and all of humanity but Noah's ilk wiped out, but Michael didn't think mentioning that would help Jay cope now. "However, Lucifer might have failed to mention among all his siblings he has an identical twin." Michael gestured to himself with his left hand. "Well, more or less. I'm Michael, and I assume you've had enough catechism or forced Sunday school time or whatever even if you're not a fangirl like your sister to understand what that means. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a demon or a devil, and even if I were Lucifer, I gotta tell you, Sport, that crucifix wouldn't do shit. I mean, Lucifer's banned; he's not going to melt if he touches it."

Jay backed up a few steps but kept glaring at him. "I don't believe you."

Michael sighed, his amusement from the whole situation draining as the unseasonably cold L.A. weather made his bad side ache. "You don't really think I'm my idiot brother, do you? I mean, look at me for one." And Samael hadn't actually needed to cut into his damn face, thank you very much. After all, Michael could only keep his right side so straight most of the time and after all the Thanksgiving prep and, ugh, the Celestial equivalent of arthritis acting up, this was not that day.

"Proof then. I'll skip the best part of my floor show because Ella would not appreciate it, but..." Michael shook his head and flashed his eyes gold for Jay's benefit. "Look, my brother and I unfortunately still have a lot in common, and we share certain connected abilities. But I'm not the Devil, and I don't give a shit about souls."

"You're St. Michael?"

"Yes, I guess you're the smarter brother," Michael groused. "I figure trying to explain it to Ricky in there would take even longer. Yes, that St. Michael-not that I asked to be canonized, thanks-but you know 'Sword of God' and 'The Great Judge?' That's me."

Jay shook a little from where he stood, which was understandable. Angels had that effect on mortals regardless as did the whole confirmation it was all really real. Even with Michael working overtime to clamp his power over fear down, it was a lot for the human to process.

"You're the Prince of Heaven?"

Michael sighed. "Currently, I might have a bit of a probationary period I'm working through. Long story, and I like to see it as mostly Lucifer and my other brother Amenadiel's faults. However, technically, yeah I've heard that epithet too. And as an angel, I don't take souls. It's not my deal. Until I got bored, I did weigh em up in the Silver City and make sure no one undeserving snuck through. That's about it. To be fair to Lucifer, and, trust me, I rarely am cause he sucks, but the Devil doesn't do souls either. The only person who damns you in the end, Jay, is yourself. Most of it is based around how much guilt you humans dare to carry around. So, you know, try to keep a handle on that."

Jay shook his head. "Ella is dating an angel and working with Satan?"

Michael decided it was best not to point out she still tutored science for a toddler Nephilim (deficient as little Chucky was) or that he wasn't actually dating her. It was an automatic reaction, but he'd promised to keep the act up for her family and to keep that pressure off her too.

"Technically, yes. I don't know how much work my brother actually does around the station. Long story, boring details, but I filled in for him for a week once and the lack of organization he has on the job and the need to drink before noon are both appalling. But that pretty much sums it up."

"I knew Ella was religious but..."

Michael sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his good hand. He only partially recoiled when he felt the scar there. Not nearly as bad as when it was first fresh almost a year ago, but still the vivid centerpiece on his face. Fucking Sam. "Ella doesn't know."

Jay blinked at him. "I knew that a couple years ago or so it was obvious she couldn't possibly know that Lucifer was the real deal. I mean, what sane person or precinct would have the Devil as a coworker, you know?"

He gave a brisk nod. "Oh, I do know."

"What kind of place would let the actual devil work there? I assume he was just hiding it so well that even Chloe Decker didn't know."

"Yes, well things change a lot and fast on earth, don't they? Decker knows as does the douchebag Espinoza." Although Michael was positive if he hadn't come to earth that Espinoza would still be blissfully in the dark and Sam's precious detective would have fuck all clue she was made to order by Dad essentially. Sam and his not lies.

Suuure.

"But Ella doesn't know even now?" Jay prodded again.

Michael shrugged and grumbled a little as his bad shoulder stayed mostly still. "Well, not to put a fine finger on it, but Lucifer does tell everyone while staying pretty secure in the knowledge everyone thinks he's crazy, which honestly seems to work, especially in L.A. Cause, not gonna lie, Lucifer's actually kind of normal out here. Anyway, I haven't gotten around to explaining it to Ella."

He stopped there. The best lies came from the truth, and to be fair, most of what he said was true. He hadn't gotten around to mentioning it after about eight months because bumming around the La Brea Tar Pits and grabbing astronaut ice cream wasn't exactly the kind of relationship that required him to pull out his crappy wings and give the "Be Not Afraid" speech.

Besides, it was kind of funnier if Sam had to deal with it some day because even now his twin still didn't get that you could lie by omission. Or Samael's level of denial to himself was that good. Michael was unsure which.

"But you're showing me?"

Michael shrugged again, forcing his bum side to move at least a little to preserve his dignity, such as it was. "You know. I could tell the moment we met that you knew exactly what Lucifer was, had seen it. So, it's idiotic to try and hide what I am from you too. But, seriously, if you ever do take it upon yourself to storm Lux...maybe just don't? Trust me, there are few things that can stop the Devil." Michael laughed again, but it was a bitter, broken noise he loathed to hear in himself. "I tried, and I did get him to Hell, but well, you can see what's left of me after."

Jay crossed himself, and Michael rolled his eyes. "Like in the stories at church?"

"Yeah, like that. Half the shit you all talk about is embellished like a game of telephone, but that's true enough after a fashion. I pushed Sa...my twin, he didn't wanna go, and he wrenched the fuck out of my right side. But he did Fall, so I guess I won. But as noble as it is for you to want to defend your little sister from the Devil, it's not worth it. First, Lucifer is never going to hurt her. I have no idea why, but he thinks he's like a surrogate big brother to her. He was never a great brother for me but with her...he's decent. Although you may want to ask yourselves someday how badly the four of you fucked up that Ella likes Satan best." Michael shook his head. "Not my problem. Second, trust me, if he can ruin an archangel for eons-his equal yet opposite number no less-he won't even have to blink to end you. So just...don't."

"But if I got a priest or something-"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Nope and nope." In fact, now that Decker wasn't an ace in the hole in making the Devil vulnerable, short of a few rogue other gods, Dad, and/or demon or Celestial steel, there wasn't much one could do to Sam. "Let whatever it is you're nursing against Lucifer go. The two of us can't agree on anything for shit. Obviously. But he takes his asinine self-appointed role as Ella's protector very seriously, so he won't hurt her ever. And he won't take her soul." Michael snorted. "Honestly, I feel bad for anyone anywhere who pisses Lucifer off over her."

And Michael had an inkling of how true that was. After all, it was obvious when he arrived at his cell, that the piece of shit Pete Daly was already ranting at him about the Devil. Clearly, Michael had not been the asshole's first Demiurgic visit.

"But he's the-"

"Yeah, the Devil, gotcha. But Sam's also got the attention span of a fruit fly and mostly is in Los Angeles to fuck that detective of his. He won't hurt Ella."

"Will you?"

He scrubbed at his face again and sighed. "Well, since I was once Dad's righthand angel, what do you think?"

Jay, who was definitely smarter than Ricky, crossed his arms over his chest and unleashed that angry glare again. Oh goody. "You said you were on probation."

"It's not as bad as it sounds." Mostly. "It's not like I got thrown into a lake of fire or lost my wings or had to go rule Hell. I'm not Lucifer here. I just, you know, can't go home for a while."

"And what are you doing then just wasting my sister's time?"

Michael's eyes widened. This was way too heavy a conversation for museum buddies and, okay, sometimes reluctant sci-fi movie watching friends if she provided enough alcohol, and he was bored enough to watch whatever. "Waste?"

"Ella's not young, and you know César and Alejandro have families now and Mamí and Abuelita want-"

Michael made some panicked noise in his throat that even he couldn't quite place.

"What?"

"Well, you're immortal so this is a drop in the bucket, and Ella's time is running out."

"That might be cutting your sister a little short there." Although Michael had fuck all idea how old she was. If one went by her toy collection, possibly twelve. "But I mean...there aren't intentions per se, and I don't...it's our first holiday together really and you know I don't think I'm wasting her time."

She was the one who sometimes, though rarely, volunteered to come to bar trivia to help him really rake it in since then science and random nerd shit got covered from her end. If that was a waste of her life along with her love of furry conventions (he didn't want to know) and too many reruns of Star Trek, then that wasn't really Michael's problem.

"Way I see it, and I'm not over the Satan thing, but if I just focus on you."

"Thanks."

"What I see is some angel who hasn't told my sister shit about shit and is just messing around with her. You'll look up and a decade will be nothing for you, you'll flit back to heaven if your Dad, uh, God gets over it, and she'll be fifty and kind of fucked but not in the good way."

"Wait your sister is...how long do you all live?" Michael wasn't even sure he had an idea on that. He was pretty sure a hundred years, but they had better medicine now than the Middle Ages so maybe more.

Humans were confusing.

"Not long enough to fuck around with some immortal getting his rocks off."

Michael let his eyes go gold and dropped his walls. And this one was easier than most, probably due to all the illegal things he'd done in the diamond industry until Samael-of all people-had scared Jay straight. Jay wasn't even scared of a comeuppance in the afterlife, not compared to his mother and grandmother...to even Ella finding out he wasn't always the perfect big brother.

Jay shuddered and stepped back from him. "What was that?"

Michael deliberately did not bring his walls back up. "Every angel gets a skill. We don't get to pick em. Dad just gave. My brother Amenadiel stops time and Lucifer still can play on desires like a human virtuoso and a Stradivarius." Michael leaned closer to Jay. "I control fear. I know yours, knew it the minute you walked into my home. You've done so many bad things, and you don't want your family to know. Great, I don't want your sister to know what I am. You keep your mouth shut, and I keep mine. We have a deal?" Michael smiled, a low predatory look that he knew people would have assumed should have donned his brother's face instead. Never did. Sam could charm anyone with his cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, but Michael worked with what he had. "I can make you feel far worse, believe me."

Jay shuddered again. "You should stop wasting her fucking time, man."

"Let me rephrase, Jay. I will make what you feel now at least 10 times worse if you push me. So, do we have a fucking deal or not? I've heard so much about pie and this roasted turkey business, that I'd actually like to try it."

"Fine, but you and Lucifer...you both have to know you're no good for Ella."

Michael sighed. "Yes, well, we're here now, aren't we?"

With that, Michael slammed his walls up tightly and went back to the living room.

Michael had never carved a turkey.

That much was obvious when he basically hacked at it to get it onto the plates. However, Ella had futzed with hours of defrosting and basting to ready it, and it looked juicy. Even if his cuts weren't exactly graceful.

More like jagged.

After Ella passed the plates back to everyone, Michael took his seat back at the head of his table and tried to smile for their guests. Lopez looked strained when he came in to set the table, her smile too pinched and tight and her eyes watery with unshed tears. He wasn't sure what her mother had said to her, but none of it had been pleasant, Michael was betting. He could have probed a little to see, since no one played on fears better than parents (and Michael should know), but that felt...wrong.

As often with Lopez, he wasn't very interested in using the shortcuts or threatening to hurt her with his explorations, even if it would have been an accident.

However, even if he were just a mortal, Michael would have noticed how tense she was and how tense her family was as well. Mostly. Ricardo looked content and a bit glassy-eyed and on whichever number of beer for the day (only Dad knew the true number). Abuelita was staring at Michael with a starry-eyed expression, which was a little flattering. Would have been moreso if every man her age wasn't probably dead or in diapers, but Michael took what he could get. However, Jay was cutting into his turkey with angry vigor, and Michael was pretty sure her brother was imagining him and Samael in the white meat's place. To Michael's right, Ella was chattering a million miles an hour about the weirdest cases she'd had this year and was on the story about the Warner TV show he'd barely remembered, but he'd never heard her speak that fast. She was more keyed up than he had ever seen her. To his left, Raquel Lopez was studying him not with anger or, ugh, attraction as in grandma's case, but with a steady, calculating gaze that was not unlike his own when he'd been the Great Judge.

Perfect.

He was just here to fill a Pete-shaped hole for the day. It wasn't supposed to be twenty questions and a pillory. Seriously, did all human families do this at the holidays? And he now had an even worse dinner party to remember, and his last one had involved his idiot twin, Dad, and the pompous windbag of the First Born.

"Um, so this is good turkey," Michael added lamely.

Jay gave an extra savage swipe with his knife and picked it up long enough to brandish it at Michael. "Yeah, really good, hermanita."

Michael huffed a little. As if a bit of silverware from Wal-Mart was going to hurt the Defender of the Church. Jay wasn't getting it, but at least he wasn't getting it with him. Not testing his luck with the Devil. Michael wasn't as sure after the first time Jay had tangled with Sam if his twin would be as patient.

And that was saying a lot.

"And you, Michael, what do you do?" Ella's mother prodded.

"Oh, you know, a little of this and a little of that."

Ella stopped in mid-stream of whatever she'd been spewing and chugged her wine. "Yeah, he kind of freelances?"

Raquel pierced him with a gaze that, honestly, would have put Sam's red eyes to shame. God, what if he were a real boyfriend? Ella's whole family were a lot...no scratch that, this was just half of her immediate family. If Pete hadn't turned out to be the biggest turd in existence, Michael still doubted any man-certainly no mortal-could have survived the gauntlet of 40 or more of Ella's extended family.

This was torture, and, honestly, Michael would know.

"So, what do you freelance?" Raquel continued.

Michael sighed. He lied, sure, but he wasn't really great on his feet when at least two relatives looked like they wanted to skewer him. And he'd know that look as once, a long time ago, Sandaphalon had actually tried it. "I'm a semi-professional poker player, actually. Also, I'm quite good at trivia contests. And I invest winnings well." That last part was true. He was methodical and good at research and had a burgeoning portfolio with diversified holdings. He wasn't Uriel or Gabe, but he could understand a pattern if given enough time to do the recon first.

Raquel's expression grew pinched. "But you don't have a real job?"

"Well, it takes effort, and I have a schedule I keep for the games I compete in. My winnings don't fall from the sky."

Jay's eyes grew huge and he nearly choked on his turkey. As it was, he guzzled a ton of water to keep from hacking up a lung.

Yeah, okay, Michael could see how that might be a poor choice of words.

"Raquel, I'm sure such a nice young man will figure out what else he wants to do soon enough. After all, this is a nice house but too small for niños."

Michael swallowed or tried to. Suddenly his throat was dry. He shot a panicked glance to Ella who was an intense shade of purple that Michael was worried humans shouldn't ever be.

"Cómo?" she asked.

He echoed "What?" beside her.

Raquel nodded. "Jay's engaged, mija, and it's just time, don't you think? Chasing down all these criminals and all that time in a lab are nice, but they're not really a woman's place and-"

Michael looked between Raquel and Ella. For first time ever since he'd known her, Lopez had gone radio silent, as if all her thoughts and so so many words had short circuited in her brain. Right, he could handle it. He'd warned them about having a sharp tongue of his own.

"Ella's really good at what she does. She's easily the best tech at the precinct. My brother has told me as much." Technically Sam hadn't said shit, but the way he thought so highly of Ella said enough to Michael. "Look, I don't think you understand how much Lopez...um, Ella loves the job she has. I mean, she does stop crime."

Raquel sighed and picked at her green beans. For the first time, Michael realized that the plate before Ella's mother was only turkey, green salad and green beans. Yeesh, where was the fun in that even? "Yes, and there are better things to do with her time. Don't you want kids?" She frowned again. "Of course, if you're just going from poker game to game, placing your bets..."

Michael kicked Lopez just a hint under the table, just more of a nudge on her shin. She owed him for the rest of his life for something this fucking awkward.

She seemed to brighten or come to reality or something because at least she was talking again. "Mamí, we're not at that stage yet."

Or ever because this was a friend helping you out for an I.O.U. deal, Lopez...

"...but it's not...can't we just have some food and talk about anything else but me?" Ella begged.

"The food is good," Ricky said. "But you're always the most interesting thing to talk about, hermanita, and you're never around. I mean, you obviously still work with the consultant who thinks he's the devil, which is loco, but you seem to be good at attracting that."

Michael frowned even as Jay carefully said nothing. He understood that silence at least. Jay probably didn't want to seem like he was suffering from delusions by explaining how an archangel had carved the turkey for all of them.

Her grandmother sighed. "Ricardo, basta ya, that's enough."

Ella's eyes grew watery and, despite himself and his own fumbling awkwardness, Michael took her hand with his under the table. Kind of. He wasn't the best at gripping with his right, but he was trying.

"Look, we really don't have to talk about that ever, Ricardo."

Her brother's expression turned gleeful and sneering. Yup, Michael knew that look too. He'd leveled it enough back and forth with Sam. "Ooh, so your boyfriend doesn't know, does he?"

"Ricardo, stop it!" Ella snapped.

Grandma shook her head and spit out something rapid fire in Spanish that Michael assumed wasn't flattering, but he didn't know for sure.

And then Raquel shrugged and sipped her wine. "Actually, it would be fair for Michael to know about your problems if you are thinking of kids."

Ella rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Mamí, only you said kids. Just you. I don't want kids. I like my job and I like doing that. I don't want to try and juggle things. I see how hard it is for Chloe and Dan and both their parents are in town...well at least Chloe's mom in between shoots, you know? I like what I do, and it comes first."

Michael frowned. "Exactly, and I'm not really a kid person so..."

Seriously, just ask Chucky.

Jay coughed again and finally muttered. "I'd guess not."

Raquel, however, had clearly come to California with a two-pronged attack in place. "Well, mija, if you came home, then I can help you and so can Abuelita Carmen."

Her grandmother nodded. "Pues, if she doesn't want to talk about this tonight, then..."

"Nonsense," Raquel continued. "You never come home. If I wait for another time to talk about this, well, I'll be waiting until five years from now and everything dries up eventually."

Ella squeezed his hand so hard that Michael almost yelped. Fucking injury.

"Mamí, please."

Ricardo nodded. "Besides, Sis, he deserves to know after what? Like a year that you're totally like un montón de locuras."

Michael wasn't really sure what that meant, but he could feel the fear pouring off Lopez. It was so much more than what had flowed freely from her brother at the front door or even in the yard. Michael tried to keep his barriers up but like with when he first re-met her and everything was so fresh with that dick Pete, Michael couldn't help but get huge glimpses of all that had happened.

And he was pretty sure that the sterile walls and the thin hospital gown and the mirrors bolted in place to prevent being shattered to pieces...oh no. What in the fuck?

He stood up then or, well, tried to and stumbled a little to his feet. Michael didn't miss Ella's mom's gaze narrowing or the slight chuffing she made at the sight of him.

"I suppose you couldn't have the other one, mija?"

Michael barely kept his eyes from going gold at such an insult. That was not...he stayed away from Lucifer, and he wasn't a substitute. Just a museum buddy. It wasn't anything like that, but Michael wasn't going to go through the "you're not as good as Lucifer fucking Morningstar" in his own house.

Well, technically his house now.

But before he was able to say anything further, Ella spoke first. "That's not fair. Michael's great."

He was too pissed to say anything, but he appreciated her talking around the truth too. Maybe she did hang out with Sam a bit too much after all.

"And Lucifer is like my brother." Lopez glared first at Ricky. "I mean, he actually listens to me and helps me, and he didn't just go to another part of the country out of nowhere without telling me anything or giving me some jodido warnings."

"Nieta!" her grandma shouted.

Ella balled her hands up at her sides. "No. I mean you need to ask why I am so close to Lucifer and to Chloe and Dan and my friends Maze and Linda too and don't come home. You're right. It's not work. But my brothers either aren't there for me or they lie to me," she said, her ire turned to Jay. "Lucifer doesn't."

Jay was going purple too and, huh, must be a Lopez thing. However, Michael did have to give the other man that much. Samael was hardly a model of complete honesty and transparency. Then again, a would-be diamond thief was one to talk.

"And," Ella continued. "I love my job and I am good at it, and I don't want kids and I love California. If you can't respect that, you can get out."

Raquel said nothing for a long time even as arguments broke out between her Lopez's grandmother and brothers. Michael watched Ella's mother and waited. That was a look he knew well, that gathering of all the energy in the room before a pronouncement. Father had literally invented it.

"Yes, but I can see how you've ended up with a poker hustler and not the stable one. I suppose even the one who thinks he's the devil found you and that fantasmas nonsense too much," Raquel final proclaimed.

Ella whimpered a little, and, as he watched, the fight leaked out of her. She slid back into her seat and pulled a napkin into her lap, twisting it in her hands. "Mamí, don't."

"I think you should all go back to the hotel, now," Michael said, and he let his powers seep out, not enough to cause a panic but to already heighten the levels of discomfort in the room, to let them feel as much anxiety as they'd all clearly elicited in Lopez. "If you can't be nice to Ella, you can't stay here."

Jay stood and rounded the table to Ella's seat. He watched Michael out of the corner of his eyes, even as he stared into his sister's face. "Ella, come back with us. You don't...maybe rethink all of this. Please!"

Michael set a hand on Jay's shoulder and let him feel a huge chunk of his gifts. In this case, the disapproval that Raquel seemed primed to dump on Ella instead focused on the Golden Child Jay was supposed to be. Her brother jumped up immediately as if burned, and he mumbled something fast and urgent to her in Spanish.

Ella shook her head. "I'm staying here, Jay."

Her mom stood and so did the rest of her family. Even as the grandmother and her brothers shuffled into the living room to get their coats and things, Ella's mom stayed here, eyeing him closely.

"You should know, Michael, that if she hasn't told you yet, my daughter sees things. She said she's had a ghost friend since she was eight. I...if you're willing to see past that, maybe you can at least talk some sense into her. She's running out of time."

Michael set his hand on Ella's shoulder and squeezed it gently, even as he worked to push away her fears, that sterile room and the chill on skin barely covered in a medical gown and hospital socks. "I think cops usually work into their sixties, right? Or the techs can work longer. I think Ella has a lot of time to keep putting bad guys away. So, I'm not really sure what you're talking about."

Raquel shook her head. "Mija, you could still do better than this lisiado."

"Maybe I don't want to, and you don't know anything, Mamí. Now please get out."

Michael squeezed her shoulder once more and followed Raquel into the den and hovered (maybe menaced a little) over the Lopez clan until they left the house. Then he took his time locking his door and taking a deep breath before limping-it was one of those days-back to the kitchen. He said nothing at first, just let Ella cry gently at the table, sniffling a little. Michael cleared the casseroles and the giant bird over to his counters, and came back with a handle of tequila for her, a ton of vodka for himself (wishful drinking), and a pie each as well as one can of whipped cream per customer. He decided on apple for himself and let Ella take the chocolate pecan pie.

He still said nothing for a while but took a swig of his bottle, drained a chunk of the whipped cream directly in his mouth, and then dug his fork directly into the apple pie.

Michael let things sit for about ten minutes in quiet though not truly companionable silence until he finally spoke. "Look, Lopez, you don't have to explain a thing. I get why you didn't want to go home to Detroit. I really get it, and I thought my family was fucked up. But, hey, I figure there's nothing some alcohol and sugar can't help. We'll make ourselves sick, and you can put on any dumbass sci-fi movie you want. I don't have to talk. I don't that much anyway."

She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes. However, Ella also poured herself a shot of tequila, so Michael took that as a sign she was on the mend. A little. "You're not gonna ask?"

"About what's up your mom's ass? No, seems she wants to collect grandkids like Pokemon. That's that cartoon show with that like weird yellow rabbit thing we watched, right?"

"Pikachu," she corrected before biting into her pie. "I just...you're not gonna pry at all about what Mamí said?"

Michael set his fork down, and with his good hand, reached out and grabbed one of her own. "Lopez, we're not dating. I was here to be the buffer, job done, and I wouldn't have wanted to spend an extra minute with any of them anyway. I don't really give a crap what they had to say."

"Even though I'm crazy?"

Michael sighed and a terrible idea came to him. Well, honestly, it was the right idea but only a terrible one because the end result was going to cost him dearly in so many ways.

"I don't think you are."

"You don't know me very well. Mamí is right, I kept seeing this ghost. Sometimes she still visits but not as often since I moved to L.A., you know? I mean...just the one ghost, but I see her, and at first, since I was eight, everyone thought she was just an imaginary friend." Ella laughed bitterly and squirted whipped cream in her mouth and chased it with tequila from the handle.

Michael ignored the bit of melted whipped cream sliding down her left cheek. Mostly.

"That's normal though, right? I dunno. I don't talk to Amenadiel, so I'm not sure if, uh, Chucky has a little friend. I'm not sure I care," he said.

"Yeah, sure, little kids have them, but I saw Rae Rae all through high school and wouldn't shut up about her so then I..." Ella sighed and set her head in her hands. "...my family sent me to a hospital for a while. Rae Rae never went away cause I'm pretty fucking crazy, but I stopped talking about her. It's just...yeah. I'm messed up, dude."

Michael stilled and blinked at her. He had an awful feeling now which made his earlier idea not just the right thing to do but, he feared, a necessity to make good on a family debt. It just couldn't be...

"And this Rae Rae? Is she maybe your height with a bowl haircut and says 'smell you later?'"

Ella snapped her neck up fast to look at him. "Did Chloe say something? Wait, no, I never told her what Rae Rae looks like. I know I never told you, so how do you know?"

Michael offered her a lopsided smile and stood up. Slowly, and he was definitely stiff from the affairs of the day and the coldness of his backyard but fuck it.

"I know what I want."

"Now?"

"Yup. I said an I.O.U. to be cashed in later. It's technically later, and this is gonna turn out to be a big ask, Lopez."

She narrowed her eyes at him, the piercing scientist gaze regarding him now. "How do you know about Rae Rae?"

"Me first," he said. "This is my ask. You just hear me out, okay? I'm going to explain some things that apparently not just Sam and Amenadiel should have told you years ago but even my sister, Rae Rae should have told you too."

Ella stood and glared up at him. Yup, more of that ferocity that would be intimidating if he were mortal. "She can't be your sister because she's a ghost. Wait, unless you have a dead sister? I'm sorry! No, espera! Why would I see you and Luce's dead sister before I even knew you both?"

"I can explain, but you promise to hear me out, okay? That's what I'm owed for this shit fest."

Ella's eyes teared up and she rubbed at them. "Sure, but I don't understand why I saw her and she's your sister and I'm not joking so I'm sorry if this is bringing up sad memories and it's so crazy and-"

He sighed. "Lopez, look. Sam's not a method actor. Clearly, he never was or he's the worst one ever cause he couldn't even get on that crappy Diablo show. I mean, he's literally not an actor. However, he is the Devil, Amenadiel is the First Born angel, Chucky's mortal as far as I can tell but technically a Nephilim, and Rae Rae is Azrael, the Angel of Death."

Michael expected her to get angry at him, to demand how talking about all of Sam's nonsense was supposed to make her feel better. Instead, he felt a million times worse when she started to really cry, to fall into a sobbing mess.

"Oh rayos, you're as crazy as I am." She hiccupped a little and started toward the bedroom. "I just...of course I only make friends with other nutty people. I mean, takes one to know one, right?"

As she passed him, he grabbed her arm and held it gently but firmly. Strong as he was, even now, she couldn't get past him. "No, Ella, I'm serious. I...screw it." He closed his eyes even as she pulled against his grip. It hurt. It always hurt, but Michael let his wings out. It was a slower process than it should have been but still close to instantaneous to the human perspective. Michael heard her gasp and felt her stop struggling before he dared to open his eyes. "You're not crazy, but I think Rae Rae really messed everything up."

She said nothing for such a long, gravid and fraught time, that he finally dared to look back at her. Somewhere along the way, he'd dropped her hand, and she'd brought it to the cross around her neck, her fingers absent-mindedly splaying over her personal totem.

"I'm hallucinating."

Michael shook his head. "Nope. Besides, if you were, I am gonna guess you'd imagine really nice wings, not an utter shit show like mine." Michael took a deep breath and turned around, letting his wings spread as wide as they could in his kitchen. It was a good-sized space, but he still had to keep them tucked in a bit. After all, it wasn't like his kitchen was over forty feet across. "Lopez...Ella, you can touch them if you want. If it makes it easier for you to understand that this is real. I just want to remind you about what you owe me. Please, if you stay, I'll explain the best I can and even some of it I didn't know. I just...Damn it, Rae Rae."

He stood there for a while, breathing ragged breaths. No one had touched his wings-no one-since Raphael had been unable to heal them after the Rebellion. Few angels would dare to touch such abominations, and the few who would (dear, idiot Rae Rae among them), he'd refused their overtures. It had been so very long, that Michael wasn't even sure he remembered what it felt like.

But finally, just when he worried he'd broken he brain with his messed up divinity, he felt the soft graze of her fingers against a few of his primaries on his bad wing.

"They're warm."

He took in a shuddering breath and tried to keep everything light with her. "Yes, they're mangy as fuck, but they're still attached to me...uh, minus the bald patches there. They still get blood flow and they still have a small bit of Father's Grace in them. So, yeah, warm, Lopez."

Her fingers stroked a few primaries again before they were gone from his wing and then suddenly tracing a great bald patch below his right wing's arch. Michael flinched but forced himself not to flare his wings. Part of him was recoiling at being touched there, but most of him was so shocked by how much he'd missed this and how much better it felt when it wasn't a sibling doing it...well, that side won out.

"What happened?"

"I...Lopez, is this enough proof? I don't...as you can tell, I don't take my wings out often. Technically, too much divinity-even mine-can drive a human nuts. But really, I know they're mangled. Believe me, all my siblings remind me."

She stroked the delicate skin again and then withdrew her hand. "I'm sorry. These aren't the best?"

He laughed and there was no humor in it. "No, Lopez, these are, by far, the ugliest pair of wings in the Silver City, um, heaven."

"But they're so pretty and amazing and..."

"You haven't seen Amenadiel's yet or Samael's. Trust me. Mine? Are an eyesore." They were technically profane, but she lacked the angelic nature to truly understand that. "I suspect though," he said, rolling his shoulders a little. "that you might have seen Rae Rae's when you were little. I mean, you should be a drooling sycophant even with my wings by now if you hadn't had some exposure before. You were probably just too young to remember it back at eight before Rae Rae decided on this idiot ghost story."

Ella whimpered a little behind him and for just a moment, stroked a primary one last time before stepping back. "Does it hurt to have them out?"

"Not too much; they're just embarrassing. Can I put them away?"

"Sure, I think show and tell needs to turn back into tequila-o-clock."

Michael nodded and rolled his shoulders again and forced his wings away. It took far too long, unending agonizing minutes, and he screamed when the right one almost got stuck folding back away. He hadn't ever tried to call them forth and then rid himself of them in short order before, especially when someone else had just touched them, and the damn things had barely wanted to cooperate.

Fucking broken things.

Michael stumbled and would have fallen if not for Ella sliding under his good side to help him make his way to the table. He slid down into his seat, and still panting, grabbed for his vodka bottle and guzzled half of it down.

"I'm sorry, Lopez, that might end up giving you nightmares." It would for him. Michael was never trying that move again.

Her hand was on his bad one, gripping it tightly, and he expected fear to be in her eyes when he looked into her face, but it was, if anything, calmer than it had been with her family around.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be better later," he admitted, drinking more with his free hand. "Like I said, get Amenadiel or Sam to show you theirs. Samael's are the nicest pair Dad ever made. I...even when we were young, we weren't identical, not by angel standards. Mine have always been grey, and Sam's are the only white ones in all of heaven. He was always the better one. Your mom wasn't wrong on that one." Michael grimaced and chugged again. "Story of my immortal life."

"But you're Saint Michael."

"Yeah, I get that sometimes. Trust me; humans came up with that. My siblings don't give a shit."

Ella sighed and gripped his hand tighter. "What happened? Can I ask this time?"

"You're still here so I think that's fair. Can't show you the battered merchandise and not explain. You're good at church stuff, right?"

"Yeah, I was a novitiate for like a year, but it wasn't for me."

"Huh, really?" He frowned at her. She was adult looking today in a normal blouse and without the Yoda (was it?) apron on, but usually she was in jeans, novelty t-shirts, and a ponytail. He just couldn't see it. Definitely couldn't see a nun speaking in Klingon. "Well, learn something every day."

"You're telling me. My best trivia buddy is an angel. What the fuck?"

"Well, I...we're just casual friends, Lopez, and I didn't know if I should upend your whole worldview because sometimes we watch Buffy together."

"But Lucifer..."

Michael snorted. "Sam doesn't lie, sure, but he rarely tells the whole truth. I let the cat out of the bag out of spite with Dan. I'm not fighting with Samael or Amenadiel right now so I...I left it up to them to figure it out with you. I mean, he's your friend and you're Chucky's science tutor. And how dumb is that? Kid just drools all day, am I right?"

Ella shrugged. "He's like 13 months now and pretty active. I mean, he's normal intelligence for a toddler, but he's definitely pretty curious and eager now. Not only drooling."

"Fine, whatever kids do, then." He winked at her. "Maybe I should have told you sooner, but I even I don't want to see my wings."

"They're beautiful."

Michael sighed and his voice was low when he replied. "You don't know the difference, Lopez, but even Margaret doesn't have bald patches and crooked wings. Pretty obvious."

"But they weren't always this way even if yours and Lucifer's didn't match?"

"No...I...well the part where I pushed Sam out of heaven on Dad's orders is true, but he grabbed for my wing, and it just never healed. I don't know why. Just is."

About seven expressions filtered over her face, and some of them were anger before she settled on something he figured was sadness. It better not be pity. Michael had no time for it. Never did.

"Lucifer did that?" she asked.

"Well, Hell didn't exactly treat Sam great either. I guess...I dunno...we ended up ruining each other. Although some Fallen angels have all the luck and the cash. I think even if I won the battle, well, Samael's far happier than I am."

Ella sniffled. "I'm sorry this happened. I just...why me?"

Michael frowned and quirked his head at her. "I don't know why Azrael singled you out as a child. Was it your idea to move to California or hers?"

"Rae Rae suggested moving there, I dunno, maybe fourish years ago, but then she was super insistent like a few months in that I try and transfer to my current station and holy crap!"

Michael nodded. "I don't know why Rae Rae glommed onto you like she did. I don't talk to her much, and I can't go to heaven currently-Dad has me on time out, long story. All that crap aside, the reason why you're connected to the rest of us is because Azrael steered you Sam's way, which of course meant Amenadiel and Chucky would be part of the deal."

Ella crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Does that mean you were stalking me at the museums? Like is this a family game?"

Michael snorted. "Trust me, Sam and Amenadiel have made it really fucking clear they don't want me near you. Can't blame them. But, no, I get bored and I can't just tool around bars and dives all my life. I mean, if my brothers are so into humans, I figured if I learned more about them, then I'd get the attraction better. You were just there." Michael dug into his pie again. He wasn't really sold on turkey, but the pie deal was pretty good. Not worth the trauma of extended families but still delicious. "And I guess you're always curious too."

Ella still glared at him, and if she were like Sam at all, Michael would have bet her eyes would have gone crimson. "So, I'm not a game for all four of you? I mean, I must be a joke...the biggest broma among all the angels. Just not tell me anything, right? See how long you can all keep Ella Lopez guessing. Almost three decades must be a record, right?"

Michael sighed with apples halfway to his mouth. "No, it's not a joke. Samael and Amenadiel...even Dan and Chloe decided not to tell you since even the douche has known for about a year. You and I were so casual, and I didn't think and fuck! You want me to be honest, don't you?"

"It'd be nice if someone would be for the first time since I was eight."

He was so going to murder Rae Rae later. Oh, the irony.

"I didn't want to tell you first because I was scared you'd stop hanging out, okay, Lopez? You're the only thing like a friend I have in the whole city. You're the only person I talk to who isn't the checkout guy at the grocery store or the pizza guy. I just...if you ran away...if you do run away, then I don't have anyone, and I didn't want that." He sighed and chewed for a while, wishing she'd stop staring at him. "Besides, they're ugly. My proof is terrible, Ella. I didn't want you to see."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I'm sorry my brothers are chickenshit. I'm not quite sorry I am. I know I'm selfish. I know I'm a liar, so this is kind of par for the course for me. But you heard me out, and that's all I know. Rae Rae clearly wanted you and Sam to keep eyes on each other. Whatever we have going for us, trust me, is kind of an accident. I don't know how Azrael would feel." He could guess. "However, Samael and Amenadiel don't want me near you."

"Cause you're a mess, right?"

"And I pulled some shit on both of them a while back, I admit it." Michael considered her and set his fork down. "I don't have any more chips to cash in. You honored your end of the I.O.U. now. I'm sure you'll want to head for the hills. I can get your shit boxed up and have a mover or something drop it all off. I can guess you're probably scared of me now."

She frowned but surprised him by digging back into her pecan pie. "No, I'm really mad at Lucifer and Amenadiel and all my friends because I do feel like some weird joke, like it was a game to keep it away from me. If I can get Rae Rae to see me, then I'm going to scream at her so much. She had no right to do that to me and make my parents...my brothers...everyone think that I was crazy. I wasn't!"

Michael nodded and reached out hesitantly to squeeze her free hand. "No, and Rae Rae broke massive rules. I have fuck all idea what she was thinking."

"You curse a lot for an angel."

"I'm on probation. I can talk as I please, Lopez. Like Sam's so pure-mouthed."

"He's the Devil, and you're the Prince of Heaven."

Michael sighed. "Not for eons and certainly not now. But what about me? If you want to scream at Rae Rae and feel hurt by Sam and Menny, then what about me?"

"Oh, I'm not not enojada, but you're right we're more casual friends and it's not your place to explain this. It really was Lucifer's or, especially, Rae Rae's."

She frowned at him and it was somehow very cute. The slight wrinkle in her brow and the hint of whipped cream that had migrated against all odds to the tip of her nose. Michael thought back to her kiss for show earlier in the day and his shoulders twitched.

Weird.

"Good. I'm still sorry. I could have been braver," he answered honestly. And Michael found that as honest as he got was around Lopez.

"So, no one has ever liked your wings since..." Ella started.

Michael narrowed his eyes at her. "Nope. They're ruined. I don't want to see them. Why would anyone else? Some Sword of God I am. Anyway, I'm glad you're not mad at me or scared."

"Dude, you're not that scary."

He quirked his head at her. "Of course, I am. I mean, Amenadiel has time and Azrael deals with death."

Ella snapped her fingers besides her. "Oh, Lucifer's 'desire' thing isn't hypnotism."

"Nope," Michael said, popping the "p" in the word. "It's an angel ability. We each got one, and I'm fear. You ever notice people get uncomfortable with me at a bar or at a museum. That's not in your head, Lopez. I can't help sometimes how I affect people. I can't keep it pinned in as tight as Sam or Amenadiel can. Fuck, even my siblings get antsy around me."

She frowned. "Oh, well, I mean sometimes I get goosebumps near you and, not gonna lie, at first I was uneasy but I thought we were just kind of awkward getting to know each other. I don't think you're scary-scary."

"Well, low level anxiety I'll take that." He drained the rest of his bottle of vodka. "Bitch of a Celestial metabolism. I need inhuman amounts of alcohol to get drunk."

"Well that would explain why Lucifer has a bar."

"Yup." Michael sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. "So, what happens now? I mean I assume you're going to track Samael down and give him a piece of your mind. Menny and Rae Rae too."

"Por supuesto. I am going to make Luce pay for this. I know a lot of his secrets, so if he doesn't want a babble fest to Chloe for blackmail purposes, he owes me. Big time."

"Man, with Sam, you hold out long enough, he'll gift you a castle."

"Ha, good one."

"Being literal. The prick."

"No shit?"

"Oh, he has a few he forgets he even has. Immortal, Lopez, and been around on earth since before currency existed. It's a real mindfuck for you, I'm sure."

"Huh, no, I just...I was probably gonna not talk to him for a few weeks and prank him."

Michael snickered. "Count me in on that; I'd love to."

She took a swig of her tequila. "Deal. Look, today really sucked."

"You don't say?"

She slapped him, and Michael just gaped at the small hand hitting his good arm. It didn't hurt, but he hardly knew a mortal who would attack him knowing exactly what he was. Dear Dad was Lopez a weird one.

"My family was too much. I should have just been honest about the whole...well not Pete...but that I was single, you know? That I don't want to come home ever, and that I'm not...they always throw my illness in my face. I just thought I deserved it, and that they were right."

Michael considered that. "Even if Rae Rae had been in your head, you're not crazy. I mean...you do your job and you're funny and, okay, weird as fuck but I'm hardly normal so takes one to know one. You didn't have to listen to them shitting on you for so long."

"You didn't either...I mean with your family, right?"

"Not as easy when your father is literally God, trust me."

"Okay, yup, and it just caught up with me that your dad is the Big Guy, and I'm a fan. I struggle with my faith but is me being still devout that bad?"

"No, Amenadiel gets along with Him. Sam and I do not in different ways. I don't give a shit what you think about Dad. I mean, He has always liked you humans better anyway."

She sighed. "I'm sorry your family sucks too."

"Yup, but I vote we don't invite either side next year."

Ella stilled and regarded him with wide, brown eyes. "Next year?"

"Well, I doubt Samael and his Scooby Gang and I will be on speaking terms by then or ever. You clearly don't want to be near your peach of a mother. Just hang with me. We'll eat whatever the fuck we want-I'm voting for pie and alcohol personally-and watch anything not that boring balloon thing."

"Parade."

"Yeah, whatever, Lopez. Maybe something action-y with a body count, if you must know. But just us. It could be fun."

Ella answered him by chuckling, almost doubling over in her seat. "Oh wow."

Michael shoved away from the table and stalked shakily to the sink. "So, it's a joke now about me. I see."

Lopez hopped up and was next to him, setting her hand on his weak shoulder. "No, I...it's just that yesterday I was freaking out cause I thought I was nuts and that my family was going to drag me back to Detroit for good. Today, an angel-no like literally that Saint Michael-wants a standing Turkey Day date with me. That's the biggest 180 in history."

"I'm not that, you know." He said, pretending that washing plates was fascinating. "I mean, I'm glad you're not pissed off at me, much. I'm ridiculously grateful I don't terrify you." Though eventually as hard as he tried, even his control slipped, and she'd feel his fucking curse more strongly than he'd like. "But don't fangirl me either. Half the shit your heard in the convent isn't true. And I'm not...no one has thought of me as the Prince of Heaven in a very, very long time, Lopez. So just don't."

She pressed her hand on his shoulder again. "Michael, I don't. I like you. The guy who keeps getting Star Trek and Star Wars confused, and the dude who knows a ridiculous amount about arts and sculptures and history and that makes more sense now, and my trivia buddy. I like the way you told my brothers to shove it, too."

He turned and quirked his head at her. "So, you get it, then? That I'm not some sparkling angel, 'be not afraid,' or some great myth from the Bible?"

"Well, maybe not all of it yet since it's been like thirty minutes, but I'm trying, okay? It's totally weird, but my life has been super fucked up since I was eight. So, a standing Thanksgiving with you sounds great."

Michael nodded. "Good I-"

And he'd blame the whipped cream later. It really shouldn't be on her nose. It was distracting. Leaning lower, he kissed the tip of her nose, getting the offending sugary goo off of her and then moved to meet her lips, returning her gesture from earlier, but this time with true honesty and as anything but for show.

They stayed like that for a long while before Ella broke for air first. Right, humans needed oxygen.

He'd have to remember that.

"Wow," she said, her cheeks bright red.

"Yeah...I...it was okay?"

"Dude, why wouldn't it be?"

He didn't say anything for a beat. There was no way he was explaining to her that except for Maze and Chloe, he'd never even made out with anyone before. Bitch of living with your siblings for 14 billion years.

"No reason," he said, stroking her hair back from her face with his good hand. "We have more pie, right?"

"Ugh, I over did cause I wanted to impress Mamí. Apparently not a possible thing," she said. "Anyway, there's still some pumpkin and this strawberry thing too."

"Good, then grab them and extra whipped cream, and we'll crash in front of the TV to watch something with car chases."

"Read my mind." But Ella didn't yet make a move to leave.

He frowned. "What?"

"Well, Thanksgiving is a while off. I mean 365 days from now even."

"And?"

Ella leaned up on tiptoes and the height difference would get annoying if he could get a crink in his neck. Thank, well not Dad, but the universe for small blessings since he couldn't. "Well, do angels do Christmas? Oh, and there's New Year's too. Might need to pencil in Valentine's Day, see who can eat the most chocolate and do anything but watch romcoms."

He chuffed at that. "So, Lopez, you just want to date me, right?"

She kissed him again. "Oh yeah, definitely."

And then, he had nothing left to say and far better things to do with his lips.