Disclaimer: I own very little.

024. Family

"Oh, honestly," sighed Raphael, glancing around. "Just how long has been it since this room was last cleaned?"

"I can't even remember," Gabriel replied, shaking his head in a slightly hopeless amusement. "It's been centuries, I'm sure. Maybe that's a good thing, though. It means Aziraphale hasn't needed a place for recovery in quite a long time."

"But he won't even dare come for a visit if his room is in such a condition!" huffed Raphael. "Besides, he'll develop an asthma here!"

Gabriel wisely refrained from reminding his lover that angels did not, as a rule, need to breathe. Instead, he retained peace in the household by simply starting the cleaning process.

The room truly was filthy. While they were in Heaven, not everything was clean even in the Golden City, like Gabriel now came to notice much to his dismay. The few books on the shelf – Aziraphale's most treasured possessions – were in a neat row, but that was about all that was in order in the room. Everything else was scattered around, a robe here, a quill there, and random odds and ends between, over, and under them. Gabriel now started gathering these things and returning them to their proper places while Raphael opened the windows and started getting rid of all the dust.

Something hit Gabriel's elbow as he reached up to the shelf. Looking down, he saw something that made him freeze for a moment. His fingers trailed the wall to the side until he found another little object similar to the original one.

They were small hooks, seated deep within the wall, specifically made for one purpose. This was where Aziraphale had used to keep his sword. His beautiful, silvery sword, which had been admired by all the other angels for its beauty and efficiency alike…

"What is it now, Gabriel?" asked Raphael, walking up to his side. "…Oh." He wrapped his arms around Gabriel's waist. "Don't think about it, okay? He's perfectly content as he is now."

"I know." Gabriel sighed. "I just wish he'd get the respect he deserves. He was one of the greatest warriors, and now he's stuck on Earth just because he lost his sword."

"Aren't you listening to me? Aziraphale loves the Earth. He spent almost all of his time there even back when he was a Cherub. He doesn't care about respect and fame in Heaven; he's more concerned about knowledge on Earth." Raphael pressed a small kiss on Gabriel's cheek. "It's all good and well for you to be proud of your brother's skills, but it does no good to wish for the impossible. Just be glad that he is happy with his current situation."

"Yeah, I guess…" Gabriel sighed again. Then he turned around. "Well, it's no use," he said. "We'd better get on with this."

"You're right." Raphael smiled faintly, then continued the dusting process.

After quite some time, the room looked presentable once again. It smelled clean, too. Gabriel nodded in satisfaction, returned the last scroll to its proper place on the shelf, and started making the bed. He smiled as he remembered Aziraphale as a child, so small in the middle of his large bed, yawning in the middle of telling that he wasn't sleepy at all.

Suddenly, Raphael's quiet voice shook him out of his memories. "Look at what I found," the Healer said, holding up a picture of some kind. "I'd have never expected him to keep something like this."

Gabriel took the picture from his lover to take a closer look at it. It was a drawing by Uriel, obviously, being lifelike enough to make him remember the exact situation from millennia ago. Raphael and he were there, looking in exasperation as the little Aziraphale fought with the little Carowiel. It wasn't even one of their mock fights, either; they were truly fighting, trying to hurt each other. A moment later they'd again been the best friends, of course, but at the moment they had been the most bitter enemies. Michael could be seen laughing in the background. Lucifer, though, was nowhere to be seen. Gabriel wondered whether Uriel had some talent of foreseeing – this was the situation now, wasn't it?

"You're right," he said, sighing. "It is indeed quite surprising to find something like this. Even more surprising, though, is the fact that Uriel even drew something like this. He usually never drew anything that could put into question his brother's perfect reputation."

"Not even Uriel is that perfect," Raphael replied. "And even he has a sense of humour."

Taking the picture from Gabriel's hands, he settled it onto a shelf. "There. Now we are done here, don't you think?"

"I do think so," Gabriel said. "Now, let's just hope this room will actually have some occupation in the next century or two."

"Yes," sighed Raphael, "let's hope. And let's hope it is not because our poor boy has gotten himself killed once again."

At that, Gabriel couldn't help but laugh. "You know that's not going to happen," he said. "You know it very, very well."

"Yes," replied Raphael, smiling faintly. "I guess I do."

Next Prompt: Strangers