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srs2012_r1Summary: Lucifer and Michael are hunters, and Adam is the angel assigned to them.
Word Count: 1764
Characters: Adam, Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, mention of Raphael.
Pairings: Adam/Lucifer/Michael.
Tags: Incest; Graphic violence.
The angel sits a little straighter than most, casual slump of shoulders too practiced and doesn't fidget at the lack of conversation, but Lucifer has to wonder how one of God's warriors manages to look small and commonplace in the diner booth.
Adam is resting his arms on the table, eyes pointedly on the menu place mat despite never ordering. It’s nothing more than feigned privacy, but Michael is focused on stacking the plastic creamer cups beside him and Lucifer's attention isn't on the newspaper in front of him, but on the angel.
It feels weird to be sitting across from someone who isn't Gabriel or Raphael or Michael, and even the chance at finding a lead and being out of the town by dusk isn't enough to tempt him back into reading. "So," Lucifer starts, "which one are you stuck with?" Adam draws his eyes up deliberate, questioning, and even Michael turns to him in confusion. "I mean, which one of us are you actually assigned to?"
There's a pause, and then Adam says: "both of you, I'm assigned to both of you. It's not unusual for an angel to take on more than one charge, nor is it unusual for a charge to get more than one angel."
Michael goes back to stacking. The waitress comes over, and her offer for coffee gets waved away. It's Tuesday, the lunch rush has already died down, and Lucifer feels daring in a way he hasn't in a while. "There are people with more than one angel?"
"Yes," Adam answers, "for various reasons. Some prefer to work with others, and some humans just need two to stay out of trouble." Lucifer pulls a face at the implication that Michael and him don't kick up enough dust, and Adam smiles like he knows what he did.
"And what happens when the hunter dies? Does the angel get his wings? Or do they just get recycled?" It sounds like childish jealousy, and Michael gives a none too gentle, chastising nudge at it.
Another beat of silence, and this time Adam holds eye contact until finally reaching across the table to tap at a headline. "Mariah Miller, and Randy Tatro, both died on campus a few days apart, bled dry and nothing stolen." Lucifer blinks, and both him and Michael lean in to get a better look.
"Sounds like vampires," Michael says, "though haven't seen a nest get this sloppy in a while. It is only two towns over though, just an hour drive."
Adam nods in agreement, and Lucifer has never been one to stop pushing. "You coming with, angel? Nests are nasty business, will we be graced with your presence?"
"I suppose, I wouldn't want to intrude."
"We offered."
"Then it sounds like a plan."
--
Adam isn't naive. He's not fumbling and lost in human interactions, nor innocent and unassuming. Emotions are fickle and complicated, but Adam existed before them, been there as they evolved and grew, consumed and left people as ashes. But his time with Lucifer and Michael teaches him that fire catches, and it's not until he's burning that he feels the flames.
It’s after a near miss that Adam sees Michael puling Lucifer to him, bodies strewn around them.
He looks away once but can’t help his gaze coming back to Michael as he draws Lucifer in close until there's no end to them, until they're pressed close with an intimacy that implies lovers rather than siblings. It feels like imposing on something secret, like something that Adam's not suppose to see, and the fact that they don't care, that there's a desperation that makes them forget everything else, makes Adam's heart race like he's doing something wrong.
The carnage is comforting in its familiarity. Adam knows what to do with this, hands steady and sure as he gathers the bodies to salt and burn. There's almost a placidity that comes with the repetition of tasks, no matter how gritty or gruesome. Even as the blood had soaked through Lucifer's shirt than jacket sickeningly quick, even as he had to tear Michael's frantic hands away before he could heal him, Adam had known what to do.
Michael walks Lucifer to the barn door, arm braced behind his back despite Lucifer being fine and Adam watches them go before turning back to clean up. He doesn't have to clear the barn floor, the witches, though volatile and reckless in their last stand, had been careful in their set up, and rather than follow the two to their car, Adam goes through the bags piled together for salt.
He doesn't mourn the coven, they were murderers that needed to be stopped, but there's something odd going through their belongings knowing the intended to come back for then. Like disturbing a grave, even if he sparks the match to the makeshift funeral pyre.
The fire lights without a problem, flames clambering over the bodies before climbing higher. Michael comes back to stand beside him, and Adam doesn't take his eyes off the blaze. There's a few minutes of silence then: "the whole," Michael sounds hesitant, but not sorry, "you know, Lucifer and I thing. It's not--you knew right? It's not a problem? You're not going--going to leave because of it?"
"No! No, of course not. I don't, I don't condemn you for what--It' none of my business, really."Adam stops himself, clenches his jaw to stop from saying anything else. He's out of depth here.
He feels overly obvious. He worries that Michael can read it in the hunch of his shoulders, that it might come tumbling out if he tries to speak.
It's not a problem, it's never been a problem--
"Thanks, for Lucifer I mean, and the whole taking out three people at once." Michael pauses, but doesn't say anything else.
"Don't worry about it."
Lucifer takes that moment to appear, bloodied clothes replaced with a simple grey shirt. "As much as I loved to watch these fuckers burn, I feel like my near death experience should be christened with food, or at least a trip to Walmart, this is my last good shirt."
"As glamorous as Walmart sounds, we have to wait until these guys finish burning. This place is obviously abandon but the cops start looking around for the missing people and stumble across this little gem of sigils and ash? And what did Smokey teach you about leaving fires unattended?"
Adam cuts in before the bickering gets in full swing. "I could stay, it would be of no consequence, and meet you back at the motel."
Lucifer gives him a look then, and all at once Adam is not just out of depth but drowning. He wonders if Lucifer can see it written all over his face. For one terrifying second Adam thinks that Lucifer gets it, that he--but Lucifer throws a playful arm around his shoulder. "C'mon, you just kicked some serious ass tonight, and saved my life. The least we can do is a congratulatory shopping spree, even if it is Walmart."
"If you insist."
"I do," and the barn with sigils smudged and candles blown out falls into quiet as the bodies burn.
--
Michael wakes up to the sun streaming in through the blinds and Adam shoving at his shoulder. "Michael, Michael, Michael." Adam is already dressed, bright eyed and bushy tailed and pushing a ringing phone at him. "It's your brother."
It's entirely too early for Michael to even curb the groan that comes out. "Give it here."
"I tried to wake up Lucifer," Adam says, earnest in a way that implies its all Michael's fault for getting woken up at unholy hours of the morning. "But you know how he is, and of course I'm not allowed to answer Gabriel's calls."
"You and Gabriel are just a bad combination, OK?" It's a knee jerk argument and, if Adam's dismissive snort is anything to go by, weak. Lucifer turns to drape obnoxiously over him and the phone pauses in its ringing only to start up again a second later.
Michael answers the phone. "What?"
Gabriel laughs, "Good morning to you too, princess."
"It's seven in the morning, now seriously, what?"
Because Gabriel is Gabriel, it's quiet for a few beats and Michael can hear Adam puttering around the house and Lucifer's mouth-breathing in the silence. "You still holed up in that apartment on the coast?"
"You're not going to visit, are you?"
"You're going to give me a complex, asshole. You still got that angel with you?"
"Maybe, Gabriel, you know what I said about keeping out of our business."
"Your sex life."
"Gabriel."
He sighs, the whoosh over air coming out as static through the phone. "OK, OK, I got a case in Cape Cod, nice little honey moon spot for you three, nothing too big but this old lady has a poltergeist in her shop and is kicking up fuss on the news. You know how it goes, gotta keep the public in the dark and all that."
It's at least a three hour drive, four with traffic and it would feel like a year with Lucifer bitching about being so close to sea. "And why can't you?"
"Got a date, and ignoring that, I'm in South Dakota. Why can't I drive cross-country because you can't bear to break up your little domestic thing you got going for 2 days? You tell me, bro. Anyways, as I was saying, date."
"Have you even gone to bed yet? What are you doing up so early?"
"No, actually, but that's not the point. Text the details or email? Oh, and remember to pack the sunscreen! You know what happens to poor Luci when he spends more than ten minutes on the beach. So, I give you my blessing with that whole menage a trois you got going for yourself, by the way."
Before Michael can even work up scathing disapproval, Lucifer props himself up on one arm and steals the phone. "We weren't asking for it, you little shit." Gabriel's indignation sounds tiny and far away, and for once, Michael is content to let Lucifer deal with it. He untangles himself from the bedsheets and makes his way to the kitchen, ignoring the argument behind him.
Adam gives a small wave when he comes in, occupied with a bowl of cereal. Michael doesn't know what were in those sugar-coma inducing cereals, but Adam couldn't seem to get enough of them. "Got another job, Cape Cod apparently. Gabriel says poltergeist. You coming?"
"Cape Cod, huh? Sounds like a plan."
Word Count: 1764
Characters: Adam, Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, mention of Raphael.
Pairings: Adam/Lucifer/Michael.
Tags: Incest; Graphic violence.
The angel sits a little straighter than most, casual slump of shoulders too practiced and doesn't fidget at the lack of conversation, but Lucifer has to wonder how one of God's warriors manages to look small and commonplace in the diner booth.
Adam is resting his arms on the table, eyes pointedly on the menu place mat despite never ordering. It’s nothing more than feigned privacy, but Michael is focused on stacking the plastic creamer cups beside him and Lucifer's attention isn't on the newspaper in front of him, but on the angel.
It feels weird to be sitting across from someone who isn't Gabriel or Raphael or Michael, and even the chance at finding a lead and being out of the town by dusk isn't enough to tempt him back into reading. "So," Lucifer starts, "which one are you stuck with?" Adam draws his eyes up deliberate, questioning, and even Michael turns to him in confusion. "I mean, which one of us are you actually assigned to?"
There's a pause, and then Adam says: "both of you, I'm assigned to both of you. It's not unusual for an angel to take on more than one charge, nor is it unusual for a charge to get more than one angel."
Michael goes back to stacking. The waitress comes over, and her offer for coffee gets waved away. It's Tuesday, the lunch rush has already died down, and Lucifer feels daring in a way he hasn't in a while. "There are people with more than one angel?"
"Yes," Adam answers, "for various reasons. Some prefer to work with others, and some humans just need two to stay out of trouble." Lucifer pulls a face at the implication that Michael and him don't kick up enough dust, and Adam smiles like he knows what he did.
"And what happens when the hunter dies? Does the angel get his wings? Or do they just get recycled?" It sounds like childish jealousy, and Michael gives a none too gentle, chastising nudge at it.
Another beat of silence, and this time Adam holds eye contact until finally reaching across the table to tap at a headline. "Mariah Miller, and Randy Tatro, both died on campus a few days apart, bled dry and nothing stolen." Lucifer blinks, and both him and Michael lean in to get a better look.
"Sounds like vampires," Michael says, "though haven't seen a nest get this sloppy in a while. It is only two towns over though, just an hour drive."
Adam nods in agreement, and Lucifer has never been one to stop pushing. "You coming with, angel? Nests are nasty business, will we be graced with your presence?"
"I suppose, I wouldn't want to intrude."
"We offered."
"Then it sounds like a plan."
--
Adam isn't naive. He's not fumbling and lost in human interactions, nor innocent and unassuming. Emotions are fickle and complicated, but Adam existed before them, been there as they evolved and grew, consumed and left people as ashes. But his time with Lucifer and Michael teaches him that fire catches, and it's not until he's burning that he feels the flames.
It’s after a near miss that Adam sees Michael puling Lucifer to him, bodies strewn around them.
He looks away once but can’t help his gaze coming back to Michael as he draws Lucifer in close until there's no end to them, until they're pressed close with an intimacy that implies lovers rather than siblings. It feels like imposing on something secret, like something that Adam's not suppose to see, and the fact that they don't care, that there's a desperation that makes them forget everything else, makes Adam's heart race like he's doing something wrong.
The carnage is comforting in its familiarity. Adam knows what to do with this, hands steady and sure as he gathers the bodies to salt and burn. There's almost a placidity that comes with the repetition of tasks, no matter how gritty or gruesome. Even as the blood had soaked through Lucifer's shirt than jacket sickeningly quick, even as he had to tear Michael's frantic hands away before he could heal him, Adam had known what to do.
Michael walks Lucifer to the barn door, arm braced behind his back despite Lucifer being fine and Adam watches them go before turning back to clean up. He doesn't have to clear the barn floor, the witches, though volatile and reckless in their last stand, had been careful in their set up, and rather than follow the two to their car, Adam goes through the bags piled together for salt.
He doesn't mourn the coven, they were murderers that needed to be stopped, but there's something odd going through their belongings knowing the intended to come back for then. Like disturbing a grave, even if he sparks the match to the makeshift funeral pyre.
The fire lights without a problem, flames clambering over the bodies before climbing higher. Michael comes back to stand beside him, and Adam doesn't take his eyes off the blaze. There's a few minutes of silence then: "the whole," Michael sounds hesitant, but not sorry, "you know, Lucifer and I thing. It's not--you knew right? It's not a problem? You're not going--going to leave because of it?"
"No! No, of course not. I don't, I don't condemn you for what--It' none of my business, really."Adam stops himself, clenches his jaw to stop from saying anything else. He's out of depth here.
He feels overly obvious. He worries that Michael can read it in the hunch of his shoulders, that it might come tumbling out if he tries to speak.
It's not a problem, it's never been a problem--
"Thanks, for Lucifer I mean, and the whole taking out three people at once." Michael pauses, but doesn't say anything else.
"Don't worry about it."
Lucifer takes that moment to appear, bloodied clothes replaced with a simple grey shirt. "As much as I loved to watch these fuckers burn, I feel like my near death experience should be christened with food, or at least a trip to Walmart, this is my last good shirt."
"As glamorous as Walmart sounds, we have to wait until these guys finish burning. This place is obviously abandon but the cops start looking around for the missing people and stumble across this little gem of sigils and ash? And what did Smokey teach you about leaving fires unattended?"
Adam cuts in before the bickering gets in full swing. "I could stay, it would be of no consequence, and meet you back at the motel."
Lucifer gives him a look then, and all at once Adam is not just out of depth but drowning. He wonders if Lucifer can see it written all over his face. For one terrifying second Adam thinks that Lucifer gets it, that he--but Lucifer throws a playful arm around his shoulder. "C'mon, you just kicked some serious ass tonight, and saved my life. The least we can do is a congratulatory shopping spree, even if it is Walmart."
"If you insist."
"I do," and the barn with sigils smudged and candles blown out falls into quiet as the bodies burn.
--
Michael wakes up to the sun streaming in through the blinds and Adam shoving at his shoulder. "Michael, Michael, Michael." Adam is already dressed, bright eyed and bushy tailed and pushing a ringing phone at him. "It's your brother."
It's entirely too early for Michael to even curb the groan that comes out. "Give it here."
"I tried to wake up Lucifer," Adam says, earnest in a way that implies its all Michael's fault for getting woken up at unholy hours of the morning. "But you know how he is, and of course I'm not allowed to answer Gabriel's calls."
"You and Gabriel are just a bad combination, OK?" It's a knee jerk argument and, if Adam's dismissive snort is anything to go by, weak. Lucifer turns to drape obnoxiously over him and the phone pauses in its ringing only to start up again a second later.
Michael answers the phone. "What?"
Gabriel laughs, "Good morning to you too, princess."
"It's seven in the morning, now seriously, what?"
Because Gabriel is Gabriel, it's quiet for a few beats and Michael can hear Adam puttering around the house and Lucifer's mouth-breathing in the silence. "You still holed up in that apartment on the coast?"
"You're not going to visit, are you?"
"You're going to give me a complex, asshole. You still got that angel with you?"
"Maybe, Gabriel, you know what I said about keeping out of our business."
"Your sex life."
"Gabriel."
He sighs, the whoosh over air coming out as static through the phone. "OK, OK, I got a case in Cape Cod, nice little honey moon spot for you three, nothing too big but this old lady has a poltergeist in her shop and is kicking up fuss on the news. You know how it goes, gotta keep the public in the dark and all that."
It's at least a three hour drive, four with traffic and it would feel like a year with Lucifer bitching about being so close to sea. "And why can't you?"
"Got a date, and ignoring that, I'm in South Dakota. Why can't I drive cross-country because you can't bear to break up your little domestic thing you got going for 2 days? You tell me, bro. Anyways, as I was saying, date."
"Have you even gone to bed yet? What are you doing up so early?"
"No, actually, but that's not the point. Text the details or email? Oh, and remember to pack the sunscreen! You know what happens to poor Luci when he spends more than ten minutes on the beach. So, I give you my blessing with that whole menage a trois you got going for yourself, by the way."
Before Michael can even work up scathing disapproval, Lucifer props himself up on one arm and steals the phone. "We weren't asking for it, you little shit." Gabriel's indignation sounds tiny and far away, and for once, Michael is content to let Lucifer deal with it. He untangles himself from the bedsheets and makes his way to the kitchen, ignoring the argument behind him.
Adam gives a small wave when he comes in, occupied with a bowl of cereal. Michael doesn't know what were in those sugar-coma inducing cereals, but Adam couldn't seem to get enough of them. "Got another job, Cape Cod apparently. Gabriel says poltergeist. You coming?"
"Cape Cod, huh? Sounds like a plan."
