Who:
reddenedrage &
bedsidemannersWhen: After
this.
Where: Somewhere between the Outlander Apartments and the Clinic.
Format: Prose.
What: Two angels meet on the basis of sparring.... Which is possible, if one doesn't get distracted.
Warnings: Mainly language. Plausible violence.
(
Patience is relative when you're in fishnets. )
But it was quicker. It was only seconds before Raphael landed, a few feet from Michael. Stepping towards him with a small grin, at first, one that quickly evaporated into concern when he saw the state of his clothes and the bruises and cuts. He reached over and touched his shoulder.
"Hey. What happened to you?"
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Oh, right. That. Michael sighed loudly, rolling his eyes. "Man, there was some bitch who wouldn't just shut her fricking mouth. Turns out the skank could actually fight in those heels." And that she sported six golden wings. Yeah. That still grated.
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"What was her name? I'm sure I'd have remembered a girl like that." Especially if she'd managed to do any sort of damage to Michael. That was impressive enough by itself, and Raphael didn't so much as bother asking who won, as assured as he was of Michael's superiority. "I'd better get you healed up first, it's unfair otherwise."
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The offer came half a blow to his pride, half appreciative. In the end, he only answered as he could. "If you're sure you don't want the handicap," he replied with a grin. "You might need it in the end."
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"Oh, I'll be fine. It's this whole area that had better worry." Fire and wind made better infernos than anything else, the first war had made that painfully obvious. But he figured they were far enough away from the residential areas to do too much collateral damage. Raphael took Michael's arm without preamble, summoning up the wind almost absently, guiding it along and healing the cuts and bruises up and down along his skin. His tone wasn't unkind as he continued. "Too bad I can't do anything about your clothes, they'll still be a wreck."
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He only snorted at Raphael's reply, though the other angel was probably right about the surroundings. Michael spared a glance for them while Raphael worked. It'd been a little bit since he felt this. His hand clenched, then his fingers stretched, wrist rotating. That did feel a little better... Not that he'd admit as much. Instead he glanced down at his clothes. "Eh. I'll get them fixed eventually. It's not as bad as it could be."
He glanced up at Raphael then, something almost childlike about the excitement in his eyes. "You really going to go through with this? I thought for sure you'd try to weasel out of it."
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Raphael was making quick work of the healing, as usual, deft and nonchalant, and it was only another few seconds before almost all the cuts and abrasions on his body had nearly disappeared. He was half-tempted to complain about having to do it, just out of pure habit, and might have if this had been Heaven. But he'd missed him too much to jump right into that.
"Of course I am. I promised you one back at home, remember?" Or else Michael had demanded it of him. He couldn't quite remember the details at this late date, not that he'd admit it. He straightened up, scrutinizing the other angel with a vaguely amused look. "Unless you've had enough fighting for one day, that is."
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The other angel healed him without a word of complaint, and Michael was fine with that. He rotated his shoulders, then cracked his neck with a grin. Whether or not Michael actually remembered that was out of the question entirely--it had been brought up and he would keep to it. How many chances did this come along without Raphael kicking and whining the whole way? "Hell, no!" he crowed in return, jumping back a few feet and leaning forward, a cheerful edge to his tone despite the glint in his eyes. "Like I'm as weak as that!"
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It had been a long time since he'd sparred, or really had enough interest to do so. He was quite badly out of practice, especially compared to Michael with his constant penchant for demon slaying. Any threats would be pretty hollow. But still. Hands raised, he pulled himself into a fighting stance and lunged at him, aiming a punch to his chest.
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Starting off with something elemental would have made this fun from the start, but why not see how much they could spar without resorting to that? They'd get to it soon enough, anyway. Michael's patience wasn't exactly infinite. "If that's hard work, I don't have much to worry about then!"
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