Supernatural One Shots

Apparently Luci Has A Wing Kink :-|

They always were an odd pair. Everything about them seemed to clash. Their wings, their personality, their smile, even the color of their eyes.

Whilst Lucifers' wings were blood red, pink and crimson, Michael's were the purest of white.
Whilst Michael's smile was warm, soft and full of love, Lucifers was evil, sadistic and... well... satanic.
Whilst Lucifers' eyes were bluer than the bottom of an endless sea, Michael's eyes were as gray as the clouds on a rainy summer afternoon in England.
Whilst Michael seemed to be the epitome of a perfect son, Lucifer was the direct personification of what every Catholic parent doesn't want.

And yet, through all of the clashes, the wars, the arguments with God, the number of times that they nearly destroyed the world from a petty argument... They stayed together... Always.

Through pain, through fear, through deaths, through births, through hope, through faith, through times tougher than anything you've ever seen, they stayed together... Always. 

And even though most people teased them that they were "too close to be just friends" that's all they were. Nothing more, nothing less.

But all that aside, the pair groggily walked into the motel room and collapsed on the beds that were neatly made. Lucifer tucked his wings tightly into his back before wincing at the pain and immediately changing his position. Believe it or not, neither Michael nor Lucifer had ever seen each other's wings. They never knew why. Everybody else could see them? Why can't they?

"Micha?" Lucifer huffed from the bed beside Michael, who quite conveniently had already started to fall asleep, "Micha, can I see your wings?"

Michael's eyes shot open and his head whipped to the side to look at the younger Archangel at this obscure and random question.

"Wh-what? Why- why- why do you want to see my wings?" Michael asked, quietly, not breaking eye contact with his blue-eyed friend. Lucifer shrugged.

"I dunno," He replied, pursing his lips, "I ain't never got to see 'em before. I've known you since before the beginning of time and I ain't never got to see 'em. All the other angels can see 'em. Not me. Why is that, eh? Why can't I see your wings?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that question, Luke," Michael looked back at the ceiling before launching himself to his feet, "Lemme see if I can show you."

And so Michael stood on the ground in front of Lucifer. The latter had sat up and was most definitely not in the perfect position to be checking out his friend's muscular legs which were covered by a nice, smart pair of black skinny jeans so tight that anyone would have thought Michael had painted them on.

The elder of the two archangels stood with his nose scrunched, his fists clenched and his eyes squeezed shut. He stretched his wings as far as they could go in the small motel room, maybe knocking over a vase and a lamp in the process. After a couple of minutes, he had heard Lucifer gasp quietly. Before muttering incomprehensible words in Enochian that Michael didn't quite understand. 

"I assume you can see my wings then?" Michael smiled, leaving his eyes screwed shut. He heard a flap of wings and felt his heart drop at the thought that Lucifer took one look at his wings and took off. His heart remained in his stomach for no less than a couple of seconds for he heard another flap of wings behind him.

"Hell yeah, I can see 'em," Lucifer growled, grazing his teeth on the back of Michael's neck, causing the latter to shudder from such pleasure from his best friend and, for a while now, crush, "Mike? Can- Can I touch 'em?"

Michael hesitated at first. No one, other than himself, had ever touched his wings before. Until, Michael's body relaxed and he gave Lucifer a small, sweet nod to indicate to his friend that he was allowed to touch his wings.