Analogia Entis

by Valorem

Summary:

Lucifer is fresh from hell, Michael is (also) fresh from hell, God is on a break and the Archangels are in way over their heads. Gabriel would like a nap, a drink and an emotionally stable brother back to heaven. Not necessarily in that order.

Notes:

• Inspired by The Price of Freewill by azure_iolite

Writing the archangels is my absolute favourite thing to do regardless of fandom and I'm so excited to finally put this out here! The majority of this fic was written around November last year and then I ended up getting an injury that kept me from working on it! But, I'm finally back! This is set after The Price of Freewill written by the wonderful Azure Iolite [linked above!]. This fic will probably make little sense if you haven’t read that, that said, if you have a working knowledge of the comics you may still proceed right ahead!

Chapter 1

The wave crests and breaks over the rock Michael is sat atop. He pillows his head on his knees, the quaking in his chest dulled by the roar of the ocean. 

If he concentrates hard enough, he can hear the fish, the endless music of creation, the knots in space time, thoughts, prayers,- Michael’s lids flutter shut. 

Apparently people prayed to him a lot. Invoking him in spells of petty witchcraft, calling upon him with summoning runes, even demons cursing him with bloody mouths. With Raziel gone, every prayer is in technicolor. To these people, he’s a prince, a great and just protector, the warrior against the hordes of hell, he doesn’t feel like much of that these days. Wasting away in whatever crook of the universe he can find for himself, cocooned in his own wings, watching the sun rise and set day by day with the endless patience found only in the indestructible. Not that he’s much of that either, these days. 

“You can’t stay here forever you know?” Gabriel’s voice is gentle, but still carries over the crack of the ocean’s might. Michael is not surprised. Gabriel was Father’s voice for a reason. “Can’t I?” he asks instead. 

The feather tread of Gabriel’s feet on the sand reminds Michael of Hermes, a millenia ago. The Greek Pantheon has shifted its interests to different planets, worlds where the age of heroes never ends. It makes Michael lonely. He’s a soldier without a war. He’s bloodlust with no desire to drink. He’s a prince with no kingdom of his own. 

“I grieve with thee, brother.” Gabriel says, soft in the way only he ever managed to be, wrapping an arm and then, a wing around Michael. 

Tears dot his vision, Gabriel’s hand around him turns even gentler, running through Michael’s hair, teasing out the obnoxious curls and the ghost of his brother’s happiness. “I keep thinking, it’ll get easier today, it can’t be that hard, its been months, and I-” 

“You can’t quite get there.” Gabriel is hoarse, like he’s aching with the weight of Michael’s echoing grief. And then- he sighs. “I’m not like you.” Michael snorts, and Gabriel huffs a laugh, “No really, you remember- you remember what I was like. With all the smiting in Sodom and all.” 

Michael shifts, tucking his head between his knees to look at his brother. He does remember. Gabriel always loved ferociously, devotedly. Nothing had ever stopped him in that endeavour, it is something Michael loves as much as fears in his bright quicksilver brother.

“Days of wine and nights of song,” Gabriel’s eyes are tight with grief, “It’s been-” he huffed, “thousands of years, and I can’t let him go.” 

Michael laced their fingers together. 

Gabriel looked at him, and then forced a smile. “I can’t tell you it’ll get better, dearest brother. I refuse to make you a promise like that. But- those days, when there was nothing for me, there was you.” He swallowed, “Let me hold you now, as you did me then.” 

Michael swallows, shards of glass digging into his throat. “I just-” his voice is offcordant, he doesn’t sound like music and divinity, he sounds like the breakable pieces of a sphere too loosely affused together, Gabriel’s grip on his hand is white knuckled. “When I came to earth, to see what Uriel wanted, I knew something was wrong. Too much didn’t make sense lately, but this was Uriel. Uriel who I taught to play the violin, who I taught how to pick stars from the sky to decorate Raphael’s hair.” Michael snorts, grief bubbling up in his chest, wetting his face. It blends in with the due on his face. Michael bites his lip. “Was I getting paranoid? Seeing enemies everywhere? Becoming Father?” 

Gabriel’s grip on his hand is almost painful. Michael is glad. It’s grounding. 

“The worst part is, he told me he loved me.” Michael draws in a wet breath, “Every minute we were together. For-” he huffs, “Centuries.” His lips are bleeding with the tidal wave of grief mounting up his chest like a shout he can never let loose. Not unless he wants to tear reality apart, and it’s driving him insane. “He’d brutalise me. He’d lay me out, chained to that horrible steel bed, he’d have his instruments, needles and forceps and saws, soaked in blood. My blood.” Michael shut his eyes, “I’d let him rip them out of me, and then-” he sobbed, “he’d throw them away. Not enough light. Too much light. This one won’t survive the evening.” 

“Sandalphon would make me watch.” Michael shook his head, “He didn’t have to. I could feel them die, one by one, every single one of them.” 

“I lay there and let them play with me, like I was food, like I was prey, I’d lay there and dream of death.” 

Michael’s eyes fell shut. “I let them do that to me, I let him murmur sweet nothings in my ear as he tore me apart. I’d bury myself in his wings and dream of home. Who the- what kind of commander, solider, prince does that?” 

“It was not your fault, I’ll keep telling you that.” 

Michael looks at his brother, “What would be the point if I can’t believe it?” 

Michael wakes with a jerk, toy tumbling out of the bed. He’s soaked the bed with sweat, which apparently, is something he needs to contend with now. The draft from the open window blows against his chilled skin and Michael pulls himself up, dragging the blankets to himself and let it spool against his chest. 

“Damnit Gabriel,” Michael murmurs, thumping his head back against the wall. Papers litter his desk. His brother’s attempts to help most often left him feeling worse. 

‘Routine,’ Michael tells himself, ‘routine helps.’ He picks the papers up, sorting them into their separate documents, annexures, pleadings and precedents. Chronology of Events: a half indexed document he stacks on top. 

The sun crests over the horizon when Michael is done drafting up the final arguments of his case and putting the whole thing together. In all consideration, it hadn’t taken Lucifer much effort to get Michael fake identification, and after a temporary illusion cast on several people from the university Ella suggested, Michael had come out bright and shiny as a lawyer. It helped that convicts got the overwhelming urge to repent their sins whenever he came up to the foyer, so all in all- to the surprise of absolutely no one, Michael proved himself as competent a lawyer as he had been at running the Universe. 

This, relatively, is a less stressful job. Even when he had his bad days, like this, and the face of yet another wounded person, a bad relationship, a bad date, a bad hello on a bad day, or just plain old humans being humans, he can’t think of any reasons. 

He checks the time, and notes, with dismay- that it's Sunday. Which, probably a cause for celebration in everyone who is not him and his illustrious family, for his Father’s dogheaded belief about opening channels of communication. 

The last thing Michael wants is to be enclosed in a small space with angels who had potentially betrayed him. They’d caught Raziel, and Uriel was dead, Michael tries not to be paranoid, he does, but he’d never pressed for a formal investigation, and his family is all too happy to pretend Michael hadn’t spent the last few years in hell as an Archangel broodmare. Especially with Zerachiel’s rebels fucking off happily into the paradise that he created. Rationally, Michael can admit that none of them were in control. Rationally, Michael also doesn’t fancy sitting across the table from someone who held him down when Zerachiel and Sandalphon took turns in raping him because they’d been convinced of glorious purpose.

His insides twinge in phantom pain. Zerachiel had been gentle, he’d almost convinced himself that he and Michael had some kind of epic union of love, but Sandalphon was violence for the sake of violence, he’d cut Michael open just to see how much slower his healing was starting to get. Michael still doesn’t know which one of them is worse. 

He swallows, wondering if he can ever have sex again. He’s hardly promiscuous, not like Lucifer, or even Gabriel but he’d had his own list of lovers, those he’d held close to his heart, the quiet brilliance of Vulcans, the sweetness of Xandarians, and Michael had quite happily fucked through the age of heroes, greatly annoying Lucifer. For better or worse, they both had the same type. Though thankfully, had never been unfortunate enough to fall for the same person. 

Michael had the sense to mostly keep out of earth, and Lucifer was chained to this planet, and hell. 

He sighs, rubbing his face, stacking up the arguments into a long towering pile of files and banishing it into an endless cabinet with a snap of his fingers. 

By the time he’s in the shower, he’s already regretting having woken up. 

Chapter 2: Chapter 02

Lucifer hums to himself as he adds the finishing touches to the pasta.

“Domesticity suits you,” Amenadiel teases.

Lucifer snorts, “Don’t confuse me with yourself brother,” he mutters, checking over the order for the cake towering over them both. It’s a pineapple decked monstrosity, but definitely right up Michael’s alley. For all of his brother’s infinite powers, it’s quite hilarious that a sweet tooth would do to his brother what all of hell with a millennia of preparation failed to do.

Amenadiel rubs the giant fluffy Maine Coon held to his chest, “You think Michael will come today?” When Ella and Michael had their universally expected break up, she’d gotten the cat in the divorce, which meant, with Ella’s work hours, that Linda had been saddled with the giant fucking monster cat that only listened to his twin, creator of all things feral and feline. Which meant Amenadiel had to take it out of the house as much as possible or deal with a baby coughing up hair balls. Which actually fucking meant cat hair on Lucifer’s Prada. 

He makes a pained sound, briefly considering pouring the wine into a glass and drinking like a civilised devil before chugging it straight from the decanter. Amenadiel could always use a shock against his more delicate sensibilities. “I don’t know.” He says. Lucifer doesn’t want to think of his brother. It brings with it always, an unwelcome rush of guilt, rage and abandonment. 

Michael would always be Lucifer’s biggest blind spot, but also the only person who could piss Lucifer off exponentially without even trying. 

Amenadiel nods, brows furrowed. “I worry for him.” 

Lucifer rolls his eyes, “All of reality worries for him, brother. If Michael snaps, we’ll all go boom quicker than you can say Amen.” 

“Not just that.” Amenadiel insists stubbornly, soldiering on, “This is our brother, our saintly, very holy brother, I might add, who’s never lost control of a situation before, who was literally titled second only to  Father himself in power, imagine just-” Amenadiel shook his head, as though disbelieving, “What happened to him was-”

“Horrifying, terrible, abhorrent?” Lucifer snaps, looking up. “This is heaven brother. It’s what it’s always been. The Silver City is a cesspit of ambition and greed-”

Amenadiel is shaking his head, “No, it's not.” He says firmly, “You haven’t been up there in a long time, you don’t know how loyal they are to him. I sincerely doubt there was more to this than what we discovered. Stop projecting-”

“Oh wow!” Lucifer marvels, “Learnt big words from Linda have you?”

“By Father, Lucifer-” Amenadiel began. 

“Uh- guys?” 

Lucifer and Amenadiel swing around, and Lucifer almost sags in relief at the sight of Chloe. 

“Detective.” He says, swinging over to her and pecking her hair. She leans into him, gentle, trusting and soft for one golden moment, before pulling back. “I just wanted to know if you’d need anything for later today,” she says, running a finger down Lucifer’s cheek, “a fake emergency, whatever. Family dinners are-” Lucifer doesn’t break eye contact as they nod together, a soft smile curving his lips following hers. “I think I’ll take a rain check.” He says gently. “I’ll definitely have a sibling that takes offence to my leaving early.” He shrugs, “I don’t want to cause more friction in heaven if I can avoid it, Gabriel seems to be running on fumes. I heard he has a countdown chart for Michael’s return.”

Amenadiel snorts, breaking the blissful peace as Lucifer untangles himself from Chloe, walking to the bar and mixing himself another drink. 

“Where did you hear that? I doubt Gabriel is passing gossip on himself, and without him-”

“Raphael.” Lucifer shrugs easily. Amenadiel’s brows climb his forehead, “I’m sorry, Raphael is talking to you? Raphael who tried to throw you through a multiversal time loop the last time we met?” 

Lucifer winced, “She had her reasons. But no, she told Azrael, who told Jophiel, who, of course-“

“Told everyone.” Amenediel says glumly. If anything Gabriel was lucky that Jophiel hadn’t scorched the words on the sky.

There’s an ominous sound like planets going out of alignment. Lucifer and Amenadiel wince as Chloe peacefully looks out the LA horizon.

“But clearly Heaven is doing a wonderful job keeping everything running.” Lucifer finishes with forced cheer. Amenadiel nods, a pained look on his face at Chloe’s cautious happiness. 

“Besides my dear,” Lucifer says, ushering Chloe out with a hand at the small of her back. Chloe grins at him fondly as she buttons her coat back up, walking into the penthouse elevator, “It’s just a bunch of celestial beings in a small controlled environment presided over by the creator of all things. What could even go wrong?”

Amenadiel makes a face like he wants to pull Lucifer’s tongue out for saying that. Lucifer can’t blame him. 

She smiles, hesitant and uncertain. “No wait, Lucifer.” She places a hand on his chest, turning around to look at him, “I can stay if you like. I know, I know it’s hard, but I’ve hardly ever met any of your family without a crisis going on, so-” there’s a careful look on her face, like she’s okay with rescinding the offer faster than she’d made it if Lucifer so much as hinted at wanting it.

It breaks his heart a little. Chloe doesn’t deserve to be hidden away, she doesn’t deserve to feel like an unworthy mate before the denizens of the self righteous fools running the Silver City. Lucifer doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Michael and Amenadiel were infinitely more peaceful and lovely than most of his other siblings; and Michael had booted him out of heaven, and Amenadiel routinely tried to murder him. 

Lucifer swallows. But… He’s also been in love with Chloe for the better part of several years now, he knows her family, her past- what she wants. It’s not unreasonable that she wants to meet his family either. But if he invites Chloe- 

He looks up at Amenadiel who has a similarly tight look on his face. Introducing Chloe meant introducing Linda which meant exposing Charlie- which even if a poorly kept secret, was still a secret. And Amenadiel was sterile which would bring the conversation to Michael, which quite honestly, was the last thing anyone wanted.

Her face falls the longer Lucifer remains silent, and that just won’t do. 

“Would you want that?” He asks her. 

“I only want what makes you comfortable.” Chloe promises, “I’m not trying to tread on toes here, and you certainly don’t have to do it if you feel like you’re not ready.” She takes a deep breath, ploughing on. “This is not a test, that’s not what this is about. I’m not going to think better or worse for you not wanting to do this. It’s your choice.” 

Lucifer blinks, feeling his heart twist and then turn liquid with an aching tenderness that almost brings him to tears. “I want you wherever I am. I want to be wherever you are.” he tells her softly, taking her hands in his own. His stomach loosens with a gentle warmth just to feel her close to him, like sunlight burning over darkened wounds. “But my family, they’re a tough lot. I don’t want them to hurt you.” 

Chloe’s face softens. “I get the feeling that hurting each other is your family’s specialty.” she says drily. And Lucifer scoffs a wet laugh. She isn’t wrong. Uriel hangs like a bright red rampaging elephant in every conversation Lucifer has with his family. He knows they’ll never forgive him. 

That’s just fine. He can’t forgive himself either. 

“Let me be there for you.” Chloe says after a moment. “That’s all I want. I just want to be there for you. Be in your corner regardless of what anyone says. I want you to take it for granted that I won’t fall anywhere but beside you.” 

Lucifer huffs out a laugh, and doesn’t resist himself any longer pulling her into long lingering kiss. He doesn’t know how he can even tell her, or if any language would be adequate enough to explain just how much he loves her. Just how much love like that means to him. He’d had that once, the kind of ever lasting unending ocean of love that Lucifer had drowned in, the kind of light it lit inside when his Father smiled down at him like Lucifer was the greatest thing ever created, when Michael, as tiny and sweet as Lucifer, accidentally inhaling a face-full of Lucifer’s feathers when they nested together, the amount of overwhelming fondness that filled his chest when his brother couldn’t stop sneezing. He’s been so bereft, so lonely for so long. If Chloe were to ask him, Lucifer would probably rise out of hell.

Taking her to dinner is a surprisingly easy decision to make. 

“I take it that’s a yes?” Chloe teases. 

“Like I could ever refuse you anything,” Lucifer grumbles, pulling her into a hug, tucking his nose into her neck. 

With support like this, he can survive anything. 

“Wonderful. I guess I’ll talk to Linda.” Amenadiel grouches. 

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Chloe feels awkward in her glittering black dress. Her heels push her up, and as much as she straightens her spine and tries to imitate Maze’s powerful strut, she’s half certain she’s going to fall and break her nose before all her future in-laws. 

Chloe draws in a deep breath, trying not to tug at her hair, or her chains, or anything that made her look any less deserving of being The Morningstar’s lover in front of his family.

“Nervous, are you?”

Chloe yelps, almost falling on her butt. A hand grabs her by the wrist, yanking her back straight. Chloe wobbles, trying to surreptitiously check if she’s nicked her heels somewhere. Maze would probably kill her if she had. She looks up at her assailant. The dark hair, the emo costume and Ella’s endless complaints could only point to one person. 

Azrael smirks at her. 

“Don’t worry. We’ve been doing this for an eternity, and it still makes most of us nervous. Gabriel hates these dinners with such a passion he foreswore all feasts thrown in his honour by humans.” 

Chloe frowns, and Azrael’s face softens with exhaustion. “Ella asked me to look out for you. Which, considering everything I’ve done to her, is the least I could do.” She turned around to face Chloe, pulling one of Lucifer’s carafes toward her and pouring them both a drink. 

“Speaking of, I heard she and my brother broke up?” 

Chloe shrugged, feeling awkward. She’s not close enough to Azrael to divulge details on Ella’s personal life to her, but. It’s not like there had been much drama there. All things considered, it had to have been the most peaceful break up in heaven’s entire history. 

“Yeah,- uh. Michael...” Chloe swallows, “He wasn’t in a good place, we know that. He latched onto Ella because she was the first person to make him feel safe. Linda thinks it might be best if Michael took care of just himself for a bit, so they put their relationship on hold.” 

Chloe isn’t that fussed about it. Michael and Ella were the kind of sweet gentle romances that never quite disappeared. She would hardly be surprised if they found their way back together soon. 

Azrael nods. “Michael doesn’t give his heart freely.” She says a minute later, a bit abruptly. “My brother, for as long as I’ve known him, falls rarely and never falls out of love at all. He carries the pieces of the tragedy with him, celestials are forever, whoever we love, even if it’s a Vampire or an immortal Warlock, won’t survive the destruction and recreation of entire galaxies. They’re immortal, we’re Eternal. It makes giving your heart out all that much harder.” 

Chloe could take a hint. “We’re not talking about Michael anymore, are we?”

Azrael huffs a laugh. “You’re a sharp one. For Lucifer that’s a first.” She turns around to look at Chloe. “Lucifer doesn’t love mortals at all.” She says, “He doesn’t love like the rest of us, he doesn’t move on, he doesn’t grieve and then get up and find the strength to live again. If Lucifer losses, he shatters. He’s always lived by the doctrine of ‘leave before you’re left.’ For him, all this time, it made sense. He sleeps around, he cares about people, he loves them, even, but he’s never risked being in love with someone, someone he will inevitably lose. Whether we like it or not, a human’s lifetime is an infinitesimal blip in our existence.” 

“Are you trying to convince me to leave him?” Chloe asks, outraged. She hadn’t expected this from Azrael. 

Azrael shakes her head, taking Chloe’s hand on her own and then placing it over her chest. “No, Lucifer is. Lucifer is dear heart. I keep him with me always. He’s the light to my darkness.”

“I thought that was the twins? Ying and Yang is their whole shtick right?” Chloe wonders. 

Azrael huffs a laugh. “No, no, the cosmos isn’t nearly so binary. The twins- the twins have some kind of… understanding that’s beyond our comprehension. It’s even beyond Father’s comprehension for all that he tried. It’s this primordial thing, their souls are twined together, there was nothing, and then there were the twins. From them- came everything. But there are others. We are all related in some way. With Michael and I- He is Life, and I am death. Amenadiel is the fist, Gabriel is the voice, Jophiel is the heart. When we’re all related, we’re all in balance. Uriel for example was the keeper of that balance. Believe it or not- Michael presides over Chaos, and Lucifer over Order.” She smiles at Chloe sadly. 

“Imagine Lucifer is like- the light at the end of the tunnel you humans keep harping on about. I am the tunnel.” She throws back her drink before slamming the glass back onto the counter. Miraculously it doesn’t break. “What I’m trying to do here Decker is-” Azrael takes a deep breath, “I’m putting the cards on the table for you. If you want him, this is what you get, and you have to be ready for that. If you get cold feet when he falls even more in love with you, you’ll tear him apart when you leave. He doesn’t deserve that.” 

Something cold drops in Chloe’s stomach at the brazen look Azrael throws her. Chloe had come to this dinner prepared for much, but this is still something that she had somehow not foreseen. 

Behind Azrael’s eyes are eons of eternal existence, torment of lost loves. Chloe wonders with a sudden surge of pain if Azrael had ever been forced to reap someone she loved. 

Lots of humans believed that death was what gave life meaning, gave it purpose. What was it like to live without an end line? 

Azrael squeezes her wrist gently. “Don’t dismiss me Chloe. I’m not telling you this because I want you to leave him or anything of that ridiculous sort. I’m asking you to consider my words, because, there will be a time when you start worrying about this, it’s better to consider it now, before you’re all in, than later when you’re both so invested that moving forward or back is painful.” 

She looks away from Chloe to Lucifer, and Chloe can’t help but follow her gaze. Lucifer is staring fretfully at the sky. She knows him well enough to know that he’s impatiently expecting his twin. Too eager to see him again, too hurt to dare expect it. “I’m saying this as we are who will have to hold him together when you’re gone, and I’d rather have him think that it was better to have loved and lost you, than not have loved at all.” 

Chloe forces a tremulous smile, trying to look like her world hadn’t just fallen out of alignment. “I’ll discuss it with Lucifer.”

Azrael raises a glass to her. “That’s all I ask.” She begins walking backwards to where Amenadiel is standing with baby Charlie. “I’m still rooting for you Decker!” she calls out, all traces of ancient grief fading from the soft lines of her face into something much more youthful and exuberant as she tackles a happily cackling Charlie from her Father. 

Chloe blinks and wishes she could take off her stupid heels and cry for a bit. But Lucifer turns around, a soft, cautiously hopeful look on his face and she’d signed up for this damnit. It hurt like hell, but it was Lucifer. Some hell was expected. 

She forces a smile and walks toward him, following him into the night. 

Lucifer pulls her close when she takes his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “Azrael give you a hard time?” Chloe shook her head, “She was just checking up on me,” she lies, “Ella’s orders.” 

Lucifer looks at her weirdly like he wants to draw out the untruths from her chest, but doesn’t say anything. He nods a bit worriedly to where Linda is walking a fawning Azrael patiently over how to tie Charlie’s bib. 

There’s something so achingly domestic about it, how Linda too knows that this is all she gets from Amenadiel, but tries her best anyway. How in spite of all the numerous differences between them, Lucifer had done nothing but his best with her. Does she have the right to even expect more than that? Is it selfish of her to want to grow old with him? 

Chloe takes a deep breath. 

“Actually, Lucifer, I-”

There’s a burst of light above them, and Chloe gasps, catching the faint wisps of a choir. It's unbearably dark for a moment before the sky above them is lit with falling stars. 

Lucifer’s hand tightens on hers when Chloe begins to shake slightly. The balcony door behind them opens as Linda, Amenadiel and Azrael join them. 

The falling stars slowly solidify into tall ethereal beings with wings of so many colours the rainbow looks feeble in comparison. At their head, is a beautiful man, as tall as Lucifer, but with soft pale skin and shiny red hair that comes to his shoulders. Chloe gets the feeling she should bow, but resists purely by the force of grip Lucifer has on her arm. 

“Dearest Gabriel.” Lucifer intones, curtsying lightly, “A pleasure to have you as always.” 

Gabriel nods at Lucifer. “Sammael. Thankyou for hosting this meet. You honour us.” 

Chloe resisted the urge to blink. Did all their conversations happen with this much formality? She exchanges a bewildered look with Linda. Azrael grins at them both. “Be glad you didn’t have to stand on ceremony where they list all of each other’s titles. When you’re Eternal, you really do tend to accumulate quite a lot of those.” 

Lucifer’s face tightens slightly at the name, and Gabriel too, looks briefly uncomfortable. Like he hadn’t intended the accidental faux-pas. He recovers with impressive speed. “With me I bring: Raphael of the Virtues, First under us and Third Archangel before the Light of the Lord,” Lucifer winces as Gabriel gesticulates grandly, “Jophiel of the Thrones, Duma of the Principalities. I give you Remiel, Ibriel and Saraquel of the VIIth Legion of Seraphim. Finally, I bring myself, Gabriel, Chief of Dominions, sometime messenger under our Noble and Beloved Brother Archangel of the First Order, Prince and Commander of the Host Michael, by the grace of thy Lord thy God.” 

Chloe wonders if Gabriel’s words were indicative of something. He hadn’t named himself commander, for all that he’d been doing the job the past few months officially, and even before that, when Michael had been kidnapped. Abruptly, Chloe remembers what Azrael had said about  a human lifetime being achingly small. Perhaps, to the celestials, Gabriel ruling heaven for the odd decade wouldn’t supersede his brother doing so for an eternity. Then she wonders if Gabriel is declaring allegiance to Michael before Lucifer. If legend is to be believed, Gabriel is nothing short of a masterful wordsmith. 

Lucifer smiles a strained smile, like he had received whatever message Gabriel was putting down. “I welcome you into my home. There are yet some guests to arrive.” He indicated to the massive dinner table behind the glass doors, almost groaning with the amount of food Lucifer and Amenadiel had managed to acquire on short notice. Chloe is sure some of it is Alien. 

Gabriel nodded regally, alighting on the ledge of the balcony, folding his wings behind him and tucking them away, like Michael and Lucifer his wings are all whites and silvers and golds. She wonders if white wings are a mark of some kind of rank. 

The other angels take their cue from him, following Gabriel down and surrounding him like a bunch of overly colourful cosplaying supermodels and Chloe exhales a relieved breath, feeling Lucifer relax next to her. That had gone surprisingly better than she expected. 

Just when her heart finally stops pounding, there’s another burst of light. Chloe winces, drawing closer to Lucifer. Everyone turns around as four more figures alight before the ledge. She abstractly wonders what the people of LA think about the weird feathery light show at Lucifer’s penthouse and then dismisses it. They’d probably seen a lot worse. 

“Abaddon, Azazel, Asmodeus, Namaah.” Azrael murmurs from the corner of her mouth. The Heavenly legion to Chloe’s left shifts slightly. An awkward tension ratcheting up the balcony. The woman leading them is astonishingly lovely, and she bows mockingly to them all. “Rulers of Hell, under the King Lucifer Morningstar.” She sneers. 

To Chloe’s side, the angels bristle. She wonders if calling Lucifer King in the presence of heaven is some kind of blasphemy, and promptly decides to never test out that theory as Remiel closes her hand into a fist. 

“Are we expecting anyone else?” Azazel asks, following Lucifer as he walks into the penthouse. 

“Just Father and Michael.” Lucifer responds. 

“It’s not like our brother to be late.” Jophiel observes. 

They make their way inside and Chloe tries to not fall apart over the fact that she’s about to share dinner with The Princes of Hell and the freaking Archangel Gabriel. She instead focuses on the food. Chloe had originally thought that the size of the table and the amount of food had been too much. She’d expected siblings and gotten an army.

Just as they sit, the penthouse elevator dings in welcome, and Chloe looks up as Michael walks into the room. Her heart lightens. Once again, she’s caught off guard by just how different the twins look. Michael’s hair is a messy platinum blond, and his eyes are vast enough to swallow galaxies. She can’t even tell what colour they are. There’s something distinctly inhuman about Michael in a way she never sees in Lucifer, or even- Chloe surveys the rest of the gathered angels, any of the rest for that matter. Perhaps he just didn’t try to fit in whilst Lucifer went out of his way to be an accommodative host.

Lucifer walks up to Michael and to the surprise of everyone in the room, pulls him into an embrace. For the second time in as many minutes, Chloe struggles to breathe at the tender careful way Lucifer holds his brother, like he can hardly believe he gets to do so again. Michael smiles, running long fingers through Lucifer’s hair before pulling back and looking at him. The look on his face is so gentle something inside Chloe shatters. 

He walks up to the table, briefly letting Gabriel tug him into a hug, squeeze Raphael’s hand and ruffle Charlie’s hair. He doesn’t bother introducing himself. Much like Lucifer, he too seems to see little point in grandstanding. She wonders if it’s a mark of their power, of how ancient and immeasurably powerful they both are, that all such actions by their brethren proved entirely unnecessary for them. 

Michael takes a seat to Lucifer’s left, with Gabriel on his other side. 

“I’m afraid Father cannot make it. He’s busy.” 

Heaven takes Michael’s word for law, all of them promptly tucking into the food. Chloe exchanges a look with Linda as the Princes of Hell don’t move.

“What do you mean he’s not here? These infernal dinners were his idea. Is he abandoning us already?” Azazel’s voice is quiet, but even Chloe can hear the underlying tension in his words. 

Raphael looks up from her salad decked plate, the look in her eyes when she looks at Azazel is more deep than an annoyance from generally interrupting dinner. Even with no context- Chloe can see it’s something personal. “It is not your place to question Father, Demon. Sit down or leave.” 

Azazel’s lips go white as he presses them together. He lingers for the longest moment, and Chloe thinks he might just as well get up and go, but then he shrugs and drops on a chair opposite Chloe, he winks at her before turning to Michael. “Wouldn’t want to hurt our royal brother anymore after all he’s been through.” He says snidely, indicating the others to join them. Chloe almost goes slack jawed in shock, noting the barely concealed rage with which the angels respond to the needling. She turns around to look at Lucifer who is determinedly looking down to hide the boiling blood red of his eyes. Michael has a white knuckled clasp on Gabriel’s wrist. 

The Princes of Hell drop to seats next to Azazel though none of them look too happy about it. The seating puts Asmodeus directly opposite Lucifer, and Abaddon directly opposing Michael. Chloe takes a deep breath. This dinner clearly has layers within layers within convoluted mazes. She is starting to get why Lucifer had been so hesitant to invite her. 

She sits herself next to Lucifer, Linda on her other side, and focuses on taking deep breaths. 

Nothing anyone says here is going to hurt her, she decides, it’s not going to hurt her, because she’s simply not going to listen. She’s going to have one ear open for her lover and the general talk around the table, and the other to one of her dearest friends. She’s going to keep quiet unless directly spoken to. She understands now, what Lucifer had meant by causing unnecessary friction. She’d briefly wondered what any of them could possibly do that would put them in such a situation but now she’s feeling stupid for thinking anything about this dinner would be straightforward. 

She tunes into the conversation with difficulty.

Raphael has a glass of something sparkling in one hand, lasagna forked on the other. “There’s been some uncharacteristic weather disturbances in the northern hemisphere.” She’s saying. Chloe wonders if she should laugh about the fact that even angels talked about the weather to avoid awkward silences. “The stratosphere is experiencing unprecedented warming up. It’s causing a disruption in the polar vortex.” 

Gabriel grins, as though global warming is nothing serious. “Are we deploying the ice dragons again?” 

Chloe’s eyes widen. 

Michael laughs, a soft sweet sound she almost had thought he was no longer capable of. “Yes, we can deploy the ice dragons.” He exchanges a cheeky grin with Lucifer who rolls his eyes, looking fond. 

Abruptly, she remembers that the scriptures always have Michael casting down the ‘dragon’ in battle, a dragon, she’d so far taken to mean Lucifer, because… obviously? Lucifer grins at her confusion. 

“Michael often rode a dragon to battle.” he says, a grin lighting up the corner of his mouth, “I swear, the seer who recorded our exploits must must have been nearsighted, they thought Mickey was out slaying dragons instead of having the time of his little adrenaline junkie life.” 

Chloe’s eyes are wide when she stares at the Prince of Heaven. Michael just looks amused, and maybe a bit smug. “I don’t even know where humanity got the idea that heaven hates dragons. I created the dragons, they’re mine. I love them.” 

“Wait, so dragons went extinct?” Chloe asks. Somehow the idea of great big heavenly creatures, the favourite of Archangel Michael being ravaged by time makes her sad. Though having a few dragons around would probably have made her job that much harder. Michael just shakes his head. “Humans were weird about slaying dragons, the way they’re always a little weird about anything strange and new and beautiful.” He looks wistful, and then- “I relocated them to a different planet. Though last I checked some of them actually left Alpha Centauri and moved in to Titan.”

“Of course you did.” Linda says, sounding faint. Chloe worries if everything is getting a bit overwhelming even for Linda’s remarkable fortitude. That’s… gratifying, she’s getting tired of being the only person unable to cope with everything. 

The conversation carries out with surprising ease after that, even with Raphael and Azazel blatantly ignoring each other, even with Remiel looking like she’d much rather spear Namaah than her food, even with Michael and Lucifer’s awkward air, try as they might to look unaffected. The only one soldiering on without any pause in speech is Jophiel, and after a while Chloe wonders if the girl could shut up even if she wanted to. 

She takes Chloe’s hand on her own, and Chloe struggles not to pull it away. Jophiel is scarily beautiful with eyes a strange bubblegum pink and hair as dark as Lucifer’s. “You’re good for him,” She tells Chloe abruptly. Chloe wonders if angels had ever understood the concept of slowly easing into things or if they were all just this chaotic and blunt.

“How do you know?” Chloe shrugs, “You barely even know me.”

Jophiel shrugs, “I know enough. I’m the heart you see, Angel of Love and all that good feeling pizzaz. Overseeing the cupids is a boring job, but I do manage to bring some flair into it.” 

“Wait, cupids are real?”

“The Devil being real doesn’t upset you, but Cupids being real somehow does?”

Chloe gapes, “I don’t know, I’m not a huge fan of being forced to fall in love with someone without my consent-” She says indignantly. 

Jophiel shrugs, “Suit yourself. But a large majority of humanity would never find love at all and be lonely and miserable and pathetic if we never stepped in. How do you think people from opposite sides of the world end up with each other? Ever heard of opposites ever attracting in the wild? It literally requires divine interference.” She sighs looking heavenward, “It’s hard work, but work worth doing.” 

Chloe blinks. So far she’d understood Jophiel to be some kind of preppy high schooler who never really outgrew her childishness, but everytime she gets a one on one with any of Lucifer’s siblings, she’s left feeling gloriously out of depth. Like a worm in the grand cosmos of things, carelessly and pointlessly moving about with no destination. 

“If it helps,” Jophiel says, “Cupid arrows are merely suggestions. It’s hardly a commitment. We leave that to you, and of course, humanity tends to fall in love without our interference too. Loving is what your miserable specie was made for after all,” 

Chloe forces a smile, feeling it strain against her face. She’s half dizzy. She turns to look at Linda who looks as overwhelmed as Chloe feels. They lace their fingers together. “Only a little longer.” Amenadiel promises, leaning over Linda to speak to Chloe, “if you want to leave right now-”

“I’m sorry, are we supposed to act like he’s still in charge?” Abaddon interrupts, her voice carrying over the murmur of several conversations. Chloe looks up. 

The room falls silent. A tension lingering between the siblings like something had been pulled far too taught between them. Chloe follows Abaddon’s gaze to Michael, where he’s sitting, frozen in his seat. 

Lucifer is breathing out slowly through his mouth. Amenediel has his fingers wrapped around Linda’s wrist as though getting ready to take her and run at a moment's notice. Gabriel’s eyes are tight like he anticipates a war.

Abaddon huffed a laugh.“Are we still pretending that he didn’t get kicked out of Heaven, that he didn’t fail Father?” 

She mirrored Michael’s lax position mockingly. Her eyes fused to Michael, “You know I remember, I remember you begging, and then I remember you crying. Finally, you just screamed.” She closed her eyes like she was savouring the memory. 

“The Mighty and Most Holy Prince of Heaven, the Commander of the Heavenly Host, The Archangel, finally in our turf. Negotiating to our terms.” There’s a sharp glint in her eyes. “Should I tell them? Tell them all the things we did to you? How Zerachiel and Sandalphon took you in turns? How we ripped out your wings feather for feather while you wept? You think they’d still look at you the same way? Or-“ her smile curved into something almost cruel as she leant forward, “How many in this table would give anything to see you on your knees I wonder.” 

“Abaddon-“ Azazel began warningly only for Abaddon to wave him away. “No brother, he’s slaughtered thousands of us, what does he expect from me? Sensitivity? Forgiveness? Did he have any of that to spare when he threw us out of our home? When he did that to our mother?” The look in her eyes is beyond anger, dancing on the tantalising rope between hate and hurt that sweeps the breath out of Chloe’s lungs. 

“What do you want The Archangel to do?” Saraquel snaps. Abaddon roles her eyes dramatically. “Nothing.” She says, her mouth a harsh line on her face. “I expect your little rule abiding brother to do nothing regardless of everything that happens, consequences are always for other people to you spoilt little brats.” 

“No one made you rebel Abbie.” Amenadiel says slowly, “no one made you vie for the throne of God.”

“You should just fucking shut up-” Abaddon says, her voice almost pleasant as she turns to look at little Charlie. “You have other priorities now brother. Do not forget them.” 

Amenadiel pales at the barely subtle threat even as Chloe grabs Linda’s fingers with her own. She sneaks a glance at her friend. For all that rightfully, Linda should look terrified, her eyes are dark in fury. Chloe yet again raises her estimate of Linda’s bravery.  “You dare-”

“No she doesn’t”, Michael cuts Amenadiel off quietly, sitting up.

Chloe feels the temperature drop, as though she too can see the power coiling under skin that does little to conceal the extent of their viciousness. Lucifer shifts his weight next to her, as though he’s preparing to summon his weapons. 

It’s easy, as an outsider, to note how the dynamics in the room change in response to Michael’s demeanour. At how the siblings straightened and leant away warily as though to escape the line of fire. It no longer feels like a dinner and more like a court.

Michael, from what she’d seen, was a gentle soul, brave and tenacious- but he was also the biblical wrath of heaven, and Chloe has read enough of the Old Testament to be wary. 

When he looks at Abaddon his eyes are shards of ice. “Do not mistake my clemency for forgiveness, big sister.” He leans forward like a panther on the prowl. Abbadon’s hands on the table are still and cold. “I put you back together with a thought. I can tear you apart with far less than that.” 

Chloe trembles looking down at the table. Linda is white skinned where Amenediel has a dead grip on her wrist. He was biting hard at his mouth. Gabriel had a grimly satisfied look on his face, his eyes firmly on Michael. Azazel’s forehead was wet. 

Michael leans back on the chair again and with a gasp like a rubber band snapping back, the charged atmosphere disappears and Chloe can breathe again. 

Michael surveys the room calmly like some kind of royalty, ‘which he is’ a part of Chloe’s brain reminds her hysterically, before shaking his head, as though in hopelessness. He climbs to his feet and Chloe hastily scrambles up as the chairs around her scrape and everyone follows him. Michael throws his napkin on the table. “You must forgive me brother.” He says looking at Lucifer, “The company here leaves much to be desired.” 

There’s a collective wince at that. 

He regally inclines his head to Lucifer, turning around smartly on his heel and walking out the balcony, Chloe watches in half confused horror for a moment until Michael’s cream gold wings burst from his back as he promptly throws himself out. 

Chloe shudders, feeling sick to her stomach, but almost proud of Michael all the same. When she’d first met him the slightest thing had set him off, now he was staring down his torturers with stone cold grace and had them shaking in their boots.

Raphael steps back from the table, surveying the room and then rolling her eyes. “I’m going after him.” She announced, before strutting off to the balcony, white wings with a tinge of something green catching the soft light of the moon as she jumped off the ledge behind her brother.  

The room is silent for a heavy moment, until Amenadiel leans forward and pours a truly questionable amount of wine in his glass before swallowing it down in a single gulp. Lucifer takes his cue, picking up another bottle with a forced grin, “So, more wine?”

Predictably, everyone refuses. 

Notes:

Sorry for the delay! I ended up falling sick and had to spend a miserable couple of weeks in the hospital fighting for my liver. I'll try to be more regular with my updates hereon out!