A/N: This took way too long to finish...
Hope you guys enjoy seeing the boys again! Admittedly, I really, really missed writing from Michael's point of view. I forgot how baby my baby could be... I've also come to the conclusion that my Michael is the spitting image of Justin Hartley, so make that what you will!
Anyways, enjoy the story, guys. Love you 3
"-right, I think that's enough Monopoly for one day, you've already proven your superiority…"
Michael stepped through the elevator, adjusting his suit as he flicked his gaze around. The first thing he noticed, as he surveyed the penthouse, was that the couch and table had been moved; Lucifer was heaving himself up off of his stomach, on the floor, while Chloe's little girl - Trixie - was scooping up the pieces of the board game they were playing. He recognized it at once, remembering when Lucifer had attempted to drag him into one of their games, but Michael had proven to be a little less than skilled at doing anything but counting the money. So he was more often than not used as the 'bank' when he was around while they played - and despite himself, he was somewhat glad that he had walked in on them while they were just finishing up. Of course, he hated interrupting otherwise; he knew Lucifer valued his time with the child, despite how much he claimed to detest most of them. He saw himself as a father to her. Michael wasn't blind by any means, and he could certainly catch the warmth radiating from his brother any day.
"I'm telling you, it's the dog. It's my lucky piece," Trixie insisted, dumping the pieces into the box. Michael glanced back as the elevator shut behind him, reaching up to fold down the collar of his suit. By the time he turned back, Trixie had spotted him; the archangel allowed a hesitant grin to split across his face, and the rest of his anxiety fizzled out when the kid jumped to her feet with a joyous squeal, startling Lucifer - who ended up dropping the money he was collecting - as she turned to rush over to where the archangel was standing, absolutely delighted. "Michael!"
"Hello, Trixie," Michael greeted, his grin melting into a slightly warmer smile. He allowed the child to wrap her arms around him, letting his hands hover over her head for a moment before finally crouching down slightly to return the embrace. He was cautious, as he usually was - he knew the kid was far from fragile, but he also couldn't shake the fear, the discontent brewing in his gut. The desperate reminder that he needed to be careful, lest he break her at the smallest touch - because, as awful as it was, it seemed to be his life's story; breaking everything he touched, whether intentionally or not. The archangel needed to be careful now, indeed - to make up for all the time he spent without a care in the world for anyone's well-being, even his own.
"Michael," Lucifer greeted, and Michael fought to keep the smile on his face as he looked up, ignoring the familiar pang of guilt that he'd long gotten used to feeling every time he saw his younger brother. "Too bad, if you'd gotten here a bit sooner you could have played with us."
Michael managed to crack a crooked grin at that. "Yeah, too bad."
"Maybe next time." Lucifer stood, carefully settling the top back onto the box and walking over to put it on the table, picking up the remote instead; Michael pushed himself to stand, himself, as Trixie pulled away from him in favor of running over to snatch the remote from Lucifer, ignoring the angel's protests and jumping onto the couch with a laugh. "Oh- alright, urchin, you've got half an hour and then I'm taking you back to the house," Lucifer warned, rolling his eyes at Michael as he turned his back on the child and headed over to his older brother with a sigh. "Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this little drop-in, hm? Shouldn't you be working?"
"Espinoza gave me the rest of the day off," Michael replied, running his fingers through his hair. Lucifer let out a hum of acknowledgement, looking down to adjust his suit jacket. "I just wanted to drop in, I-" He paused, hesitating, and Lucifer flicked his gaze back up, arching an eyebrow. It had been about a week since Michael had gotten drunk and practically admitted all of his self-loathing to his younger brother. And then later, when Michael had woken up sober with a hangover, they had a long chat about his supposed 'self-deprecating demeanor' and how he apparently 'needed therapy'. They'd ended on a good note, but Michael hadn't agreed nor disagreed to see Linda anytime soon. "I just-" Another pause. "... I called Linda yesterday."
Surprise flickered through his brother's eyes, and Michael couldn't help a somewhat hesitant smile as he watched a grin spread across Lucifer's face. "You did? Well, that's wonderful!"
"Nothing's official," Michael told him carefully, searching his brother's gaze. Lucifer's expression didn't falter - if anything, his smile seemed to widen just a little bit more, raising his eyebrows expectantly in response. "We just talked a little and… she said she'd be willing to see me Friday if I wanted." He paused, biting the tip of his tongue with a frown. He wasn't sure why the idea of therapy scared him so much, but that was all he could chalk the twisting in his gut up to - fear. Maybe it was the concept of sitting and pouring his heart out to someone he was just getting to know; he had enough trouble opening up to his siblings as it was, and even talking to Ella about his own emotions proved to be a challenge. She was so understanding- but maybe that was what was difficult about it. A part of him almost ached for someone to tell him off just once, to insist that he had no right to even feel guilty. But that was why he needed therapy, wasn't it? Because these thoughts were a product of his guilt, and his guilt was a product of…
… every horrible thing he'd ever done. Mostly to Lucifer.
"Still wonderful," Lucifer hummed, folding his arms across his chest. "Would you like a drink?"
"Oh, no. No," Michael declined, allowing a faint smile to tug at his lips as he flicked his gaze past his younger brother, briefly fixing his attention on the child curled up on the couch. Her attention was rooted solely to the television with about as much intensity as Michael often saw Lucifer gazing at Chloe. "The last thing I need is to have another meltdown right now anyway," he sighed, turning his attention back to his brother. A flicker of concern passed through him, a cold rush flushing through his veins; Lucifer's eyebrows twitched, furrowing together faintly. He was worried, and Michael understood that - but it just brought another pang of guilt, because he knew he didn't deserve that concern, not from the little brother he'd spent so long torturing.
He swallowed, forcing down the lump in his throat in the process, and was quick to change the subject before Lucifer had a chance to voice his concerns. "So, babysitting the step-child?" He offered, cracking a smile. Lucifer arched an eyebrow and glanced back toward Trixie, humming. "You know, Ella and I were actually wondering if we'd be seeing little 'Chloeifers' soon." His brother failed to react, still staring at Trixie, and Michael clarified, "if you're having children?"
"What?" Lucifer's head turned toward him so fast Michael was surprised he didn't get whiplash, angel or not. It was startling enough, even, to make the archangel jump just the slightest bit, muscles jolting and recoiling faintly in response, though he didn't quite move from his spot. He watched Lucifer's expression shift, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. And he felt each one that slammed through his younger brother, the surprise, the confusion, the disbelief. He expected to feel some horror, disgust, even - Lucifer made it very clear that there were very few children he could stand, and one of those was a child who wasn't even born yet. Michael was sure he could make an exception for his own child, of course, but he also should have figured that Lucifer probably didn't intend to have kids. "Having- who on Earth said anything about having children?" Lucifer demanded, and Michael just blinked back at him, appalled; it took a few seconds, but the angel's expression slowly shifted, into something akin to alarm. "What, did the Detective say something?"
"No, no," Michael assured, blinking rapidly as he watched the tension drain from his younger brother's shoulders, the alarm immediately diminishing. "That's not what I meant. We were just curious, you know- Ella and I-" He clarified, "-as to whether you do plan on having children. Especially now, with Amenadiel and Linda having a baby on the way, and-"
"It's not 'brother see, brother do', Michael," Lucifer choked out, wide-eyed.
"I was just asking." Michael couldn't keep the somewhat defensive tone out of his voice; his brother's reaction had kickstarted a rush of anxiety, and he figured it had something to do with the fact that Lucifer was feeling rather anxious now, and Michael was having a hard time differentiating that from his own emotions right then. Lucifer's shoulders twitched, rolling back sharply in what Michael recognized as a defensive manner of his own, and the archangel shook his head quickly, fighting to diffuse the tension. "No pressure, obviously! Just curious."
"Well, keep your curiosity to yourself, would you?" Lucifer retorted, a disgruntled expression replacing the anxiety that had been written across his face before. "I certainly don't want the Detective catching wind of your conversations about our plans of reproducing- which there are not any of," he added sharply, and Michael just blinked. "And I don't appreciate you talking about it either- but I don't want the Detective getting any… ideas." Lucifer practically blanched at the thought, and Michael arched an eyebrow at that, less worried about his brother's reaction and more so intrigued as to why the idea of having children of his own seemed to repulse him. It might have made sense, if Lucifer was still 'anti-Dad', but now that they had a somewhat stable relationship - well, to say Michael was confused was an understatement. He was flabbergasted. "Certainly not… how would you react if I asked you if you were planning on having children?"
"Definitely not as defensively," Michael replied carefully, studying his expression curiously. "I'd calmly tell you that Ella and I haven't made any plans on that matter ourselves. She's busy with her work and I'm not exactly father material." Honestly, the thought made him want to laugh. He didn't have anything against children, but having one of his own was just… funny to him.
"I am not defensive," Lucifer retorted - rather defensively, Michael noted, but he wasn't going to say that. "And in that case, no, we have not 'made any plans on that matter'," he snarked, and Michael arched an eyebrow at him silently. "The Detective is also busy with work and, not to mention, the child she already has, and if there was ever anybody who has never been and never will be father material, it's definitely me." His brother breathed in through his teeth, and Michael allowed his eyebrows to furrow slightly at that, slowly beginning to suspect why his brother had reacted so strongly to his question. "Urchin! Get your shoes on," Lucifer called over his shoulder, and Trixie slid off of the couch dutifully to do as she was told, turning the TV off.
"I'll let Ella know," Michael murmured, glancing past Lucifer. "She's gonna be disappointed."
Lucifer stared at him. Trixie jumped back to her feet, finished putting her shoes on. "Ready!"
"Jacket," Lucifer called without turning around, narrowing his eyes at Michael for a moment. "And if Ms. Lopez wants a child, Michael, that's your problem, not mine. Always hate to disappoint, of course, but I think we can both agree that between the two of us - well, I'm sure you'd make a better father than I would, and no offense, brother, but that's certainly saying something," he added, and Michael offered a half-hearted shrug in response. The comment didn't hurt at all - he knew he was far from ready to have a child, and he didn't know if he ever would be ready, for that matter. The archangel leaned back, biting the inside of his cheek, and watched as Lucifer finally turned around to face Trixie again. "Don't forget the game, Beatrice," he reminded the girl, gesturing to the board game on the table as Trixie shrugged her jacket on.
It was kind of sad, really. Michael kinda wished Lucifer could see how good he was with Trixie; it might change his mind about the whole 'not father material' thing. "Taking her home?" The archangel shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back, deciding to drop the subject of children for now. He'd bring it up later when he had his brother alone or something, it could wait.
"Daniel's supposed to come to the house to pick her up in about an hour," Lucifer sighed. He looked a little put-off then, like something about that irked him - and Michael knew that his brother and Espinoza didn't exactly get along, of course, he didn't exactly expect them to; in certain situations, they held a mutual kind of respect for one another, and maybe at times they could even be civil - their banter was playful at best, but there was still a level of irritation between the two of them even on their best days. Lucifer found entertainment in getting under Espinoza's skin, and Espinoza seemed to find a certain degree of enjoyment in expressing his annoyance toward the angel and his antics. But this was different, this time. The expression on Lucifer's face could only be described as frustration, and the twisting in his chest? Jealousy.
A feeling Michael was all too familiar with. Feeling it now, from his younger brother, made him want to peel his own skin off in strips and dive into a vat of sulfuric acid right then and there.
"Earth to asshole," Lucifer's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Anybody home?"
"Sorry." Michael shook his head slightly, as if doing so would dismiss the subject and the emotions he could still feel eating away at him. They weren't his own, and he knew that logically, but it didn't stop him from gnawing on the inside of his cheek anyway. He hated that feeling more than anything else - it wasn't something he wasn't familiar with, a lot of the time the cases they dealt with had to do with jealousy in one form or another, but it was also one of the two emotions that had ruled his life utterly and completely for thousands upon thousands of years. He was rather sick of feeling it, even from other people. "Sorry," he mumbled again. "What?"
"I asked if you wanted to come," Lucifer told him simply, and Michael watched his eyes narrow as they flickered, seeming to scan across the archangel's face with terrifying intensity. He swallowed, forcing past the nausea and anxiety brewing in the pit of his stomach. Mixed with Lucifer's concern, it was a combination for vomit. "Perhaps bake some cookies for the child."
The mention of food wasn't much better. Michael hid it with a smile. "Yeah, I'd love to."
Nothing too significant happened; Michael followed behind Lucifer's Corvette in his own car, tapping his fingers numbly against the steering wheel and trying not to zone out as he drove. When they got to the house, he disappeared into the kitchen to do as promised, setting out a pan and getting to work making a batch of chocolate chip cookies. He'd gotten used to cooking, one of many things he enjoyed learning how to do on Earth. By all technicalities, being an archangel meant he didn't need to eat - unless he was in Ella's presence. Not only that, but she insisted on showing him every kind of food known to man, all of which he was happy to try. Food was definitely something he'd missed out on in the Silver City - he loved eating, and he loved snacks more than anything. The sweet things, like chocolate, and cupcakes with a shitton of icing piled up on top, and sugar and chocolate chip cookies. Something he and Trixie bonded over was their love for chocolate cake, which Michael was more than happy to sneak her whenever he had the chance, provided she didn't fill up too much to eat her vegetables. He understood her distaste for them, of course, but he also didn't want to get in trouble with Chloe.
As the cookies baked and Trixie retreated to her room, Lucifer ended up joining Michael in the kitchen to grab a soda. Since he didn't drink alcohol on a regular basis anymore, he had found other beverages to turn to - Michael had to admit, watching his brother lean back and crack open a can of Pepsi was certainly an odd sight, but it was one that made his lips tug upwards; he could insist he wasn't for 'domesticated life' all he wanted, but he was the one who had gotten married, he was the one living with humans, he was the one taking care of his step-child as if she was his own. He was the one standing in his kitchen drinking soda while Michael baked cookies - something Michael could say with certainty, he had never, ever expected.
The guilt settled for a few seconds, a rush of contentment replacing it. He might feel like he didn't deserve it, but he loved the way his life was going now. And he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world - even Heaven, and even his Father. He had everything he'd ever wanted - the only problem was his emotional stability, something he was working, even then, to change.
He and Trixie finished off most of the cookies, and - due to Trixie's incredible persistence - even Lucifer had a few every now and then. The girl eventually decided to dump the rest into a container for her father, and Michael agreed dutifully; anything, really, that could help him get Espinoza to like him a little bit more. They were on relatively good terms now, if you compared it to when he'd first started partnering up with the man, but he knew it was going to take a little while for Espinoza to really grow comfortable with him. So he was more than happy to send Trixie off with a container of cookies for her father, to hear her exclaim "Michael made them!" at the door after Espinoza had already taken a bite of one (per Michael's request, of course, he'd asked her not to tell him who made them until after he'd eaten one, lest the detective think he'd poisoned them or something). Espinoza didn't say anything about the cookies, but he caught Michael's gaze before he and Trixie left, and Michael knew he'd won a point when he nodded.
"Thanks for watching Trixie," the human called to Lucifer as Trixie ran out, after throwing herself at both of the angels for a quick goodbye hug. His brother leaned against the wall, arms folded.
"Always a pleasure, Daniel," Lucifer replied airily. Michael saw him glance behind Espinoza, as if he was looking for the girl herself, and when his brother had assured himself that she wasn't there, he continued casually, "she's very tolerable for a child. Certainly takes after her mother." The words were oddly quiet, not lacking the taunting tone he usually took with the human, but Michael could still feel the odd, twisting feeling churning through his brother's chest, and it worried him a little more than he thought it should. He furrowed his eyebrows, thinking.
"Right." Espinoza huffed out a laugh, stepping out the door. Michael watched it as it swung and clicked shut, and twisted his mouth sharply. Lucifer let out a groan the moment the human was gone, shoving himself away from the wall and heading over to the couch with a scowl.
Michael flicked his gaze over, tracking his brother. "You okay?"
He knew his answer. Figured he knew what Lucifer's response would be, too. His brother didn't lie, after all, and he was sure even someone as emotionally-disconnected the little Lightbringer could figure out that he wasn't feeling okay at all. The jealousy was back, but a much more agonizing feeling accompanied it this time. This one wasn't something Michael had a name for, but it was definitely one he was familiar with, one of two he'd experienced daily. It was like every kind of pain you've ever experienced, rolled into one. It was suffocating, like a loss of oxygen. It was burning, like being trapped in flames. It was cold, like being dunked in a freezing river. It was like knives ripping through your flesh. It was like a heart attack; each burst of pain was connected to the pounding of your heart, and the agony rushed through your body like every beat was pumping poison through your veins. In a way, it was poison. It was toxicity at its finest.
Lucifer fell back onto the couch and looked up at him, not responding until the archangel shuddered. "Depends on how you define 'okay', I suppose," he said after a moment, studying Michael carefully. "I'm certain I will be, Michael, but that's irrelevant. Do you want to watch TV?"
"No," Michael admitted, before he could stop himself. Lucifer paused and glanced up at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly in response; Michael hesitated, if only for a second, before he straightened up and forced himself to walk forward. "I mean, I just- I know something's wrong, Sammy. You know I know. You know I can feel it. And I hate to press, but what you're feeling-" He stopped, only for a second, long enough to see the realization flash across his brother's face. The archangel grimaced, leaning over the back of the couch and looking down at the younger angel with a sigh. "I don't know, maybe… if you just talk to me about it," he said lightly. "Maybe I could help a little. So… what's wrong?"
Lucifer didn't respond immediately, but Michael could see the moment the wall crumbled, the emotions displayed clearly across his brother's face for a few seconds before they vanished again. He glanced away, brown eyes flicking from Michael's face to the TV, still turned off. He hadn't reached for the remote to turn it on, and he didn't seem to have any intention to now. "Nothing should be wrong, right?" He finally replied. "I have everything I didn't even know I wanted, but everything… everything I could ever want. And need." His brother paused, sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, and Michael furrowed his eyebrows faintly as he listened. "I'm on good terms with Father, I have two of my brothers by my side. I've got a family, I've got friends, I have a wife…" He trailed off. "... and I have a child. I have a child, but she's not mine."
Michael felt his chest tighten, then, but he wasn't sure if it had anything to do with Lucifer.
"She's not mine," Lucifer repeated quietly. He finally looked up, leaning his head back against the arm of the couch, and stared at the archangel tiredly. "Michael, why do I want her to be?"
"Samael…" Michael started softly, but Lucifer just shook his head, as if he were trying to dismiss the sentiment entirely. The archangel rolled his shoulders back sharply, genuinely at a loss for what to say, how to reassure his brother, how to even begin understanding. Because he might be feeling these emotions from Lucifer, but without the experience, without the thoughts that must be running through his brother's head now, he was even farther from understanding than he had been to begin with. "I don't understand," he mumbled. "I thought you didn't want kids."
"I-" Lucifer sighed through his teeth. "I don't. I mean…" His brother frowned, glancing away. His eyes darted around the room, focusing on everything but Michael. "It's not that I don't want kids, Michael… but I wouldn't be a good father. Not to children of my own, at least. I know I wouldn't." Lucifer ran his tongue over his lips, a frustrated expression crossing his face. "I don't do well with children, Michael. I've been on Earth for so long, and I still don't know how to interact with them. I've seen kids-" For a moment, he stopped. For a moment, it looked like what he was about to say next was choking him, like the words wouldn't form. The pain intensified, and something else accompanied it now, a sharp throb of sorrow. "I've seen kids in Hell, brother. Children, wracked with guilt, children, who didn't deserve…" Lucifer's expression flickered, desperation replacing the frustration. "I never knew how to approach them. Adults, even innocent, I never really cared-" He huffed out a laugh. "-but the children? How could…"
Michael faltered, curling his fingers into the back of the couch.
"I wouldn't know how to care for a child," Lucifer continued, a little quieter. "I wouldn't know how to handle it. I'm not responsible for Beatrice, Michael, I- yes, I 'babysit' sometimes, we play board games and joke around and tell stories, but that's it. I'm not her father. Daniel's her father. I'm just…" He trailed off. "I'm just the guy that married her mother. I'm 'Lucifer', I'm like a friend to her beyond anything else. And I'm fine with- with that. At least then maybe I won't have to deal with her growing up and hating me, or something of the sort. If I'm not responsible for her, then I won't be responsible for what she grows up to be, what she becomes. And yet sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I was." His brother fell silent then, squeezing his eyes shut. Michael glanced down at him, leaning down a little more over the back of the couch and reaching a hand down slightly - only to recoil again after a moment. "It's ridiculous, isn't it?"
"No," Michael murmured. "It's not ridiculous, Sammy." He pulled his hand back completely, clasping it over the back of the couch again and sinking his weight forward against the couch. "It sounds really complicated, though," he added quietly, biting his lip. "Have you talked to Chloe?"
"No." Lucifer sighed. "What am I supposed to say to her? That I do want children? That I don't? That I want her child? If anything, I should be talking to Beatrice. But she already has a father."
"You're still her step-father, Sammy."
Lucifer just shook his head, pushing himself to sit up again. "But it doesn't matter. She has a father. She already has what I want to give her. What do you give the girl who has everything?"
Michael bit the inside of his cheek, shrugging. "More."
Lucifer paused at that, staring at him; Michael sank back again after a moment, breathing in and letting his head fall back to look up at the ceiling. "I think… I think you'd be a great father, Samael. I think if you really, really wanted to- you've already dedicated yourself to a family. You've already dedicated yourself to a wife. And you're really, really good with Trixie, brother," he added quietly, lifting his head again to glance over at his brother. "I mean, yeah, you joke around with her and play games and stuff, but you also take care of her, don't you? You are responsible. You're really responsible now. It's… kinda funny, really. You're one of the most mature out of all of us." He jerked his chin toward the ceiling, not needing to explain further.
"Not mature enough to handle a child of my own, Michael," Lucifer sighed, standing up. "But I… appreciate that. You're getting better at this whole 'pep talk' thing, I do have to say," he commented, and Michael managed to crack a hesitant smile, opening his mouth to speak. "Regardless-" Lucifer held a hand up, shaking his head. "Regardless… I… this is just something I have to figure out for myself, I suppose. Feelings I have to sort through on my own."
"Yeah." Michael sighed, pushing himself away from the couch. "I get it."
Lucifer studied him for a moment, cracking a small smile, then lifted his gaze to glance past the archangel; Michael paused and turned his head, fixing his gaze on the clock behind him. "The Detective shouldn't be off work for another few hours," his brother commented, moving forward to stand beside the archangel. "One of these days I'll have to reprimand her for that schedule of hers- but for now…" The younger angel glanced over, and Michael caught his gaze quickly, unable to help but grin at the mischievous expression that crossed his little brother's face. "I do believe you still owe me a race around Los Angeles. Provided you don't get distracted…"
Michael arched an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me, little Lightbringer?"
"Yes. Yes, I am," Lucifer replied honestly, tilting his head toward the door. "So, shall we?"
Michael turned his head slightly, looking up at the clock. He watched it for a moment, listening silently as it ticked. He and Lucifer rarely got time to themselves; most of the time, when they were together, they were often surrounded by other people. And, honestly, sometimes Michael thought the only reason his brother seemed so comfortable around him was because of that. The fact that Lucifer was standing here challenging him now, alone, however, with just the two of them - it was comforting. But it didn't change the fact that he was going to destroy his little brother in this race. Even guilt wasn't going to keep him from giving it his all. Nothing in the world could stop him from showing off his skills in the sky - and nothing was going to stop him from proving that he was more advanced than his little brother when it came to flying.
"We shall." Michael spread his wings out, and Lucifer paused, eyebrows shooting up. The archangel just shot him a grin, and winked. "I'll meet you on the roof, bro."
"Oh…" Lucifer's eyes sparkled, spreading his own wings out. "You're on."