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023. Lovers

Aziraphale smiled slightly as he listened to the song. It was so very lovely, he thought. It would be a pity if it was forgotten, which was why he was going to write it down.

This was how it should be, he thought. This was what love was really about, beauty and gentle words and, yes, making love, too. The demon could surely never understand this.

1:2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth;

for your love is better than wine.

Raphael was asleep again, Gabriel noticed. He had no doubt exhausted himself while healing someone. When exactly would he learn that others could heal minor injuries just as well? It wasn't like he was needed for everything.

Shaking his head, Gabriel pulled a blanket over his lover. He then crouched down to place a light kiss on the Healer's lips before leaving quietly, not wanting to disturb the other's rest.

1:6 Don't stare at me because I am dark,

because the sun has scorched me.

"Were you on Earth again?" Michael asked, glancing at Uriel. "I don't think I've seen you quite this dark ever before."

"It was necessary for my mission," Uriel replied, shrugging as he glanced down at his hand, covered with dark brown skin. "I didn't think about turning it back. Of course, if it disturbs you…"

"Oh, not at all." Michael grinned. "In fact, it looks quite good on you."

My mother's sons were angry with me.

They made me keeper of the vineyards.

I haven't kept my own vineyard.

Of course, Aziraphale thought, Crowley had probably never even thought of understanding it. He saw it all as stupid waste of time. Love was to him at most a tool for tempting people into more sin, just a point on the road to lust. After all, Crowley was a demon.

1:9 I have compared you, my love,

to a steed in Pharaoh's chariots.

Quietly, not saying a word, Uriel ran a hand over Michael's muscular form. The firm muscles under the golden skin never ceased to fascinate him. Uriel himself was more slender than strongly built, while Michael was like a war horse – strong, well-muscled, and ready for battle at any time.

Running his hands over the other angel's arms, well aware that those arms could easily lift him in the air, he pressed a light kiss on Michael's lips. Then, right before the other started to kiss him back, he let his body slide away, sinking into Michael as a form of warm, golden glow.

Michael followed suit, but not quickly enough for Uriel not to notice the tiny twinge of an emotion akin to disappointment in his expression.

1:15 Behold, you are beautiful, my love.

Behold, you are beautiful.

There were hands in his hair and lips on his cheek. The trail of tiny kisses moved steadily closer to his mouth. His own hands were crawling towards his lover's hair, eager to tangle themselves in the silky tresses.

"You are so beautiful," Gabriel sighed happily before planting a kiss right on his lips. "I love you so much, my lovely Raphael…"

"I love you too," Raphael replied quietly. "I love you more than anything."

Then he drew Gabriel close for yet another kiss.

2:6 His left hand is under my head.

His right hand embraces me.

Uriel, as a rule, did not sleep. However, he had nothing against an occasional moment of rest. Thus he now lay peacefully, fingers lazily tracing invisible patterns on the bare back of the being he shared the bed with.

It felt secure, being wrapped in Michael's arms. One hand was under his head, more comfortable a cushion than any pillow might ever be, while one hand had reached over him, a strong arm covering his waist.

The warrior moved a bit in his sleep, drawing Uriel even closer to himself. Uriel did not protest.

It was not sleep, for he did not know sleep. However, as he slid into a dazed state close to slumbering, for once Uriel didn't worry about leaving himself vulnerable.

With Michael there, he knew, nobody would dare to hurt him.

Let me see your face.

Let me hear your voice;

for your voice is sweet, and your face is lovely.

To be entirely honest, though, Aziraphale wasn't sure he understood it completely himself, either. To feel such devotion for one being, a being other than God, anyway, was foreign to him. He had never been in love, and, he suspected, he would never be in love, either.

Aside from the countless humans he had seen being in love, his experiences of such a matter were fairly limited. There were Raphael and Gabriel, of course, who had loved each other as long as Aziraphale could remember. Their love was ideal – adoring, caring, forgiving. Nothing could drive those two apart.

Another example had been Lucifer and Michael. While the two had probably loved each other at some point, they had ceased to do so. What exactly was it that made one relationship last while another failed?

And, lastly, there were Michael and Uriel. Though they now were together, clearly loving and caring indeed, the beginning had been more than difficult. Aziraphale had watched Michael suffering for longer than he cared to remember. Even if he had got Uriel in the end, had it really been worth that? How could somebody spend a year after an endless year, a decade after a decade, forever pining for someone they could not have? Or, worse even, being close to them but never getting close enough? What kind of an emotion could drive them to such insanity?

No, Aziraphale did not understand love. Well, he understood loving well enough, it was the being in love bit that gave him difficulties. He was determined to try his best to figure it out, though.

He would know what it was like to be in love, one day, even if he never experienced it himself.

3:1 By night on my bed,

I sought him whom my soul loves.

I sought him, but I didn't find him.

Raphael woke up in a cold bed. Glancing around, he saw no signs of Gabriel having been there since he fell asleep. Still, he felt like he had slept long… Why wasn't Gabriel there already?

Lying in his bed, he tried to ignore the worry that was starting to raise its ugly head within him. Surely Gabriel was just busy somewhere. It wasn't like him to skip sleep like that; he'd come sooner or later… wouldn't he?

Now, Raphael was indeed worried. Gabriel had seemed so tired earlier that day; he really should rest…

Finally he decided to get up and look for his lover. Wrapping a robe around his bare body, he silently wandered out of the bedroom.

It wasn't that hard to find Gabriel, in the end. The poor thing had fallen asleep on his desk. Shaking his head in disapproval and muttering about how Gabriel really should know better than exhaust himself like that, Raphael started to gently shake him awake.

Soon they'd both be in bed like they should.

3:6 Who is this who comes up from the wilderness like pillars of smoke

It had been reckless, he knew. Charging at a band of demons all alone, he'd been asking to get injured. Sure, he had beaten them all, but that didn't change the fact that Raphael was going to talk his ears off.

"Michael!" shouted a voice, and he cringed. If only Raphael's scolding was the worst thing he would have to face… "What on Earth do you think you were doing?"

Raising his head despite the fact that it was aching terribly, he saw the one angel approaching him through the curious crowd. In the middle of all the fair, blue-eyed angels this one, with his dark skin and blazing emerald eyes, was like a swan among sparrows. A dark, graceful, beautiful, and very, very angry swan with a very loud voice.

"Just what do you think subordinates are for? Audience for your idiotic stunts? Just because you can take on all the demons doesn't mean you have to."

By now Raphael was there too, along with a couple of other healers, all shaking their heads in disapproval. All Michael could see or hear, however, was Uriel. Uriel, who was now coolly scolding him for being so stupid, then scolding his generals for letting him go alone, then scolding both of them. During all this time he didn't show a single hint of any emotion aside from annoyance, but in his eyes Michael detected both worry and relief.

Well, now he was home, he thought. Home with Uriel.

Now, he could at last let his consciousness slip.

4:3 Your lips are like scarlet thread.

Your mouth is lovely.

Gabriel was once again too concentrated on his paperwork to notice anything that was going on around him. Raphael smiled a bit, then set a hand on top of the paper the Messenger was currently reading. Gabriel looked up, looking surprised, his mouth opened to form a protest.

However, no voice came out. Raphael's lips on his prevented that quite efficiently.

4:7 You are all beautiful, my love.

There is no spot in you.

It seemed that love truly made people blind, Aziraphale thought. When you were in love, it didn't matter how annoying the other person was. You were willing to forgive almost anything because of love – and you would describe even the ugliest of people as an astounding beauty if you loved them.

Let my beloved come into his garden,

and taste his precious fruits.

Uriel wound his arms around Michael's neck, pulling the warrior's head down into a kiss. The kiss was returned with equal excitement, Michael's hands wandering over his chest.

He felt the familiar tingling he had by now come to associate with the moment before Michael abandoned his body. Instead of joining him as usual, however, Uriel now looked up at his lover, seeking the azure blue gaze. "Don't," he said softly.

Confusion marked Michael's face. "What do you mean?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice. "Is something wrong, Uriel?"

Uriel smiled. "Nothing's wrong," he replied, kissing Michael again. After a moment he released the blond warrior, still looking him intently in the eye. "It's just… I'd like to try the other kind of loving. The physical kind."

"Are you sure?" asked Michael, sounding a bit nervous. His hands, however, were getting a bit restless on Uriel's chest.

Uriel didn't say anything in response. He just let his hands wander down Michael's black, spreading his legs a bit in invitation.

Apparently this was all the encouragement Michael needed to proceed.

5:11 His head is like the purest gold.

His hair is bushy, black as a raven.

Raphael tangled his fingers in Gabriel's hair. It was lovely, really. It wasn't like he hadn't liked the former honey-brown colour, but he liked this obsidian darkness all the same, if not even more.

It was different from Uriel's hair, he thought. Uriel's was clearly a brown colour so deep that it was black. It was soft, somehow. Gabriel's hair, however, was a shiny, bluish black colour. Most may not have noticed any difference, but Raphael did. He was sure Michael did, too.

It was all good and well, really.

Your hair is like a flock of goats,

that lie along the side of Gilead.

Uriel's hair, Michael thought, was absolutely beautiful. It may no more be long, neat tresses like before the First Fall, but the short, tangled curls were just as lovely. The shade of black was so soft and warm, nothing like the cold shine of Gabriel's hair.

He pressed his face against the obsidian curls. Uriel's hair, he noticed, smelt of jasmines.

8:3 His left hand would be under my head.

His right hand would embrace me.

It was quite warm, Gabriel noticed as he woke up. The reason for this warmth was, as he soon discovered, the fact that Raphael had snuggled up to him in his sleep.

A faint smile touched his lips as he wrapped his arms around the Healer. Soon, he was asleep again.

8:6 Set me as a seal on your heart,

as a seal on your arm;

for love is strong as death.

Stupid demons. Stupid, stupid demons who caused trouble. Stupid, incredibly idiotic demons who caused trouble the very day Michael had planned to just spend time with Uriel.

Yet another fiend of Hell fell victim to his sword. Poor bastard, but it couldn't be helped. They should have known better than get in the way of his peaceful evening with his lover.

He would be done with this soon, though, he decided. Uriel was waiting for him.

Demon blood covered him from head to toe. One place, however, remained untouched. The ribbon Uriel had tied to his wrist "to remind him to come home" seemed just as clean and tidy as ever.

This was, Michael thought with a smirk as he faced yet another demon, because Uriel would kill him if he didn't return it in perfect shape. And that was because if he couldn't keep it clean he had to be in very bad trouble.

Uriel's ways of showing his caring weren't always that obvious. To Michael, however, they were more than enough.

8:7 Many waters can't quench love,

neither can floods drown it.

If a man would give all the wealth of his house for love,

he would be utterly scorned.

Indeed, love was a strange thing, Aziraphale decided. Of course, it might only look like that because he only knew it as something to observe, not something to feel.

He didn't think the day he actually fell in love would ever come, though. Therefore, he would have to just observe.

Next Prompt: Family