Spin That Record, Babe
Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael) Additional Tags: Dancing Lessons, Waltzing, Fluff without Plot, Shippy Gen, Gabriel and Raphael are Twins (Supernatural), in an odd angel-y sense. i just feel it deserves a mention., Alternate Universe, Agender Raphael (Supernatural), Angels Becoming Humans, Raphael-centric (Supernatural), Depowered Raphael (Supernatural), Depowered Gabriel (Supernatural), Depowered Lucifer (Supernatural), Depowered Michael (Supernatural), Gift Fic Wordcount: 3070 Summary:
A brief interlude where we find out how many angels can danceon the head of a pinin the middle of Gabriel's kitchen.
The universal experience of having a little brother is that when they find anything that piques their interest, they’re going to run to you and put it in your hands. This is true whether that brother was actually born after you or if he was created in the exact same moment as you were by your Father. This is true whether it is a handful of helium atoms he fished out of a star before Lucifer managed to shoo him away, or a particularly bumpy looking toad he picked up in the garden and is now frightened for its life, or an important discovery on the laptop he found at the thrift store. Raphael is well-accustomed to being the pair of hands that most often received Gabriel’s ‘gifts’. Gabriel waves them over, and Raphael sets down their coloring book and goes. At least, if it’s on the computer, it’s nothing they’ll have to put back where he found it when he loses interest.
“Lesson eight on the good parts of humanity,” Gabriel begins. Raphael does not point out that he’s forgotten lessons three through seven, or that lesson two was a month and a half ago. “The internet.”
“I know about the internet, Gabriel.” He smirks. Raphael thinks about the half-finished bluebird in their book. They shake their head and watch the screen over his shoulder.
“But did you know that they’ve put every piece of music they’ve ever made on there?”
“Every piece,” Raphael repeats with deadpan disbelief.
“Would I lie to you?” Gabriel says. He’s typing in a link. The computer autocompletes it for him. After a minute, the page loads, and after a minute more, it shows a compilation of ‘Recommended Videos’. The vast majority of them announce themselves to be hair braiding tutorials. Absently, Raphael touches one of their own braids. Gabriel’s typing away again, and in a moment, those videos all vanish and are replaced with new ones. He clicks one, and it takes up a larger part of the screen, a spiral of dots in the middle. So far, Raphael is pretty unimpressed.
Abruptly, music blares out of the computer. Raphael jumps back. Gabriel jolts, too, and he scrambles to make it quieter. When it’s bearable, Raphael steps close to him again and listens. It’s the exact same song they heard on the radio yesterday. It sounds different through the computer than it did through the minivan’s speakers, but that’s the only difference. The singer asks for someone to scratch their back and apologizes for any skipping tracks, and Gabriel looks up at Raphael with a very familiar expectant expression on his face. It’s been a long time since they’ve encountered it, and their reaction must be lacking. “I really thought you’d be more impressed by that. Remember when they used to have to crowd around some local bard to hear a tune or two? And now, on demand!”
“I haven’t paid attention to music in a while. How am I supposed to know if it’s any good?” That’s an acceptable enough answer and wipes away the dejected look in Gabriel’s eyes.
“When was the last time you took a vessel? The nineteen eighties?”
“The eighteen eighties. Maybe.” Gabriel looks shocked.
“Raphael,” he says, “I love you, but you have got to get out of the house more often.” He twirls his finger in a loose circle, and then he snaps. “I know a guy. Let’s see if they have some of his work and jog your memory.” Raphael should tell him that they hardly stopped and listened to the music of the times, even back then, but he’s trying so hard to help them connect to this and so they stay quiet. “C-H-A-I- No, there’s a T in there somewhere.” Gabriel wrestles with spelling until the computer gives him what he wants. “Here he is.”
The volume has been lowered to a tolerable level now. Raphael listens. It’s a different kind of song that Gabriel now presents to them. Intense when it begins, and the instrumentation is wholly unlike anything Raphael's heard by chance on the radio. Raphael leans closer, intrigued, and as the song quiets and then races again, they begin to understand. Their heart seems to speed with music, as though any part of them could leave their vessel again and take to the skies. Their chest aches with the reminder of their loss, and the song grows soft again as though in tune with their thoughts before it lifts back up. Raphael wants to follow it.
"It's beautiful," they say. When they look at Gabriel, they realize he's been watching their expression this entire time. Their hand flutters restlessly in time with the spinning chords, a growing desire to do... something with their limbs that they can't put into words. Gabriel takes their hand as he stands.
"Only one thing to do with a waltz," he comments.
And Raphael, as ever, listens to what their little brother wants to share.
"It's simple once you get the hang of it," he says. "There's a rhythm to it. One, two, three, hear it?" Raphael can't pick it out, but Gabriel puts their hand on his shoulder and rests his other hand against their waist. "Step back." When they do, he comes forward. "And to the side, and forwards, and there it is." Gabriel leads them through it, again and again, slow at first and completely out of time with the music. When the song draws to a close, he pauses. Raphael aborts a step forward before they end up tripping them both up. Before Gabriel can even go over to the computer to check, however, it begins to play a new song. "Huh. Convenient. Where were we?" It gets easier with repetition, and as Gabriel brings them in time with the music, Raphael can hear the rhythm he was talking about. One-two-three, in time with their steps, one-two-three, and Gabriel laughs. "You're a natural, Raph."
"When did you learn to do this?" Gabriel is setting the pace, but Raphael is as important to the dance as him. Their movements complete what he starts. It is achingly familiar again.
"I've had a lot of time and a lot of hobbies. Taxidermy, dish-washing, and a dozen different styles of dancing. It's all about finding the right partner." Raphael sweeps left with him. All that Gabriel doesn't say is clear in how surely he grips their hand, in the mixed surprise and gratitude that crosses his face when Raphael moves in tandem with him. They don't have to wonder how long he spent searching. The answer was one gaping wound in the body of Heaven and one empty chair at Sunday dinner. Raphael sat with his absence for so long that they forgot how vibrant Gabriel was. Now, he guides them both around the table all four of them ate breakfast at this morning, and if Raphael had the choice, the music would never stop.
Behind them, they hear the door to the apartment shut loudly. They don't need to turn around to know who it is. They read it easily in Gabriel's expression, the slight tilt of his head and smirk at the corner of his lips.
"Care to join us, Luci?" In a few more steps, Gabriel has turned them enough that they can see their brother. Lucifer looks aggravated, which is why they usually don't let him go to the store (or anywhere he's expected to interact with humans for more than five seconds) alone. His gaze drifts over the two of them, and some of that frustration melts away. He sets down a bag on the counter. Inside, Raphael can see pasta. That's reassuring. If no one supplies him with the materials, then none of them will have to live through Gabriel's more experimental cooking again. (Gabriel claims that casseroles are perfectly acceptable human dishes, but they're borderline inedible to Raphael. Likewise, he regards the fact that they tend to combine food according to complimentary colors to be abhorrent.) The music continues on as Lucifer makes his choice. The computer has an endless supply to play for them. Finally, their brother steps forward. Gabriel might have his head cocked confidently like this was all a master plan coming together, but he squeezes Raphael's hand excitedly when Lucifer looks like he'll come dance. He's fooling no one.
"What do you say? Dance with the devil?" It takes Raphael a moment to realize the question is directed at them. Gabriel tips his head at Lucifer, who is kicking his shoes off to the corner of the kitchen. Raphael was expecting him to go instruct Lucifer the same way he did them, but when offers this option, they find themselves stepping away from one brother towards another. Gabriel holds onto their hand for as long as he can before he has to let them go. He circles them, favoring a hands-on teaching method as he places Lucifer's hand at Raphael's waist where his was before. Raphael closes their eyes and listens to the music instead of Gabriel telling Lucifer the steps. They find the rhythm again.
One-two-three.
One-two-three.
One-two-"Raphael?" They open their eyes. Lucifer is waiting.
A dance with Lucifer is more difficult. He is not, or should not be, a part of them any longer. Where moving in tune with Gabriel still came as naturally as a heartbeat, it becomes arrhythmic when Lucifer takes his place. And yet, the disconnect isn't wholly in them, but in their vessels, imperfect conduits through which they must interact. These muscles were not trained to fight together, and for as light on their feet as it makes them feel, dancing isn't much like flying at all. Perhaps Raphael could match Lucifer in flight through the rings of a solar flare with ease, but a waltz leaves them both clumsy. Raphael moves to the rhythm that Lucifer hasn't picked up yet, and Lucifer steps too wide for them. Gabriel's hands land softly on their back or Lucifer's arm to offer corrections. It is, to be blunt, a mess.
Raphael hasn't had this much fun since-
Well. Since their light and laughter left Heaven.
They can see the strain his missteps put on Lucifer's pride, and for that, they keep their mouth shut. Gabriel does not, teasing him for his flat-footedness, but then Gabriel was always Lucifer's favorite. All he gets in return is a glower and an easily dodged bump. He comes around Raphael's other side and puts his hand over where the two of theirs are joined. "And lift," he says. All three hands go up. Gabriel nudges Raphael forward until they go under the arch they've formed. They didn't lift them high enough, and Raphael can feel Lucifer's wrist brush the top of their head before he corrects it. Around they go until they're back where they started.
"I want to do that again," they say. Obligingly, Lucifer lifts their hands to let Raphael under them again. It's simple, but it's delightful. They settle back into their previous positions, and the dance continues.
Raphael's not sure when Michael gets home. One moment, it's only the three of them, Gabriel now off to the sidelines as they and Lucifer have gotten better at dancing, and the next, they turn and see Michael standing near the entrance, watching them. They miss a step, and Lucifer's foot bumps into theirs. He follows their gaze back over his shoulder.
"I didn't want to interrupt," Michael says when what he means is that he knows he shouldn’t. It might be guilt or it might be pride, but either way, Michael will lament that he can never let himself be a part of them the way he desperately wants. Perhaps, if he was only faced with Gabriel and Lucifer, they would let him pull away and feel sorry for himself while he does it, but Raphael has spent lifetimes wrangling Michael.
“Come dance, brother.” Michael is hesitant, but he comes.
To kill Lucifer required Michael to be closer to God than to them. Son to absence, rather than sibling to what remained.
It is very hard for Raphael to see Michael as above them, by age or experience or their Father’s blessing. Lucifer can treat Michael like His surrogate on his worst days, and Gabriel looks at Michael like he should have been wise enough to protect them all. Raphael is the one who stayed long enough to comb broken feathers from Michael’s wings when he stopped doing it himself. They would have followed him until the end and cared for him in the aftermath of Lucifer's death, which would, even if neither of them ever acknowledged it, destroy him as much as falling on the battlefield himself.
Raphael rests their left palm against Michael’s right and guides his other hand to rest against their shoulder. They place their right in the middle of his back.
“I’m leading,” Raphael says firmly. Michael’s eyes drop to where they’ve positioned his hand but they draw back to Raphael a second later. He opens his mouth to say something, but he decides against it. Raphael closes their eyes, focuses on trying to find the rhythm Gabriel pointed out earlier. It lies hidden beneath the rest of the musical flourishes, but as steady as ever goes the one-two-three. They exhale, and they step back. Michael takes a moment too long to step with them and breaks the rhythm.
On the next cycle, Raphael tries again, and Michael, expecting it now, goes. They grow more bold, guiding him with the hand at his back. They prompt him to turn slightly with their next steps, and they manage a slow circle. It brings Gabriel and Lucifer back within Raphael’s view. Lucifer’s hand is on Gabriel’s waist, but it’s clear from the way they move that Gabriel isn’t waiting for him to decide the steps. Gabriel catches their eye. He winks, and Raphael can’t hide a smile in return.
With another rotation, they lift their arm for a spin. Michael’s hand doesn’t follow, caught off-guard again, and Raphael realizes Gabriel didn’t show him how to do this. They grip Michael’s hand and lift it for him, using their other hand to make him turn. They have to lift onto their tiptoes to get both their arms over his head.
When he’s stopped twirling, they’re still holding hands. Michael lets his grip falter, but Raphael only holds on tighter in response.
The music ends abruptly. Gabriel goes over at the computer. Raphael’s hand falls from Michael’s back. They’re expecting another waltz, another familiar rhythm. Instead, the computer starts singing again, a woman’s voice, a soulful swing to her words.
“Gabriel?” they ask. It’s a small sensory overload compared to the music they were dancing to. They can’t pick out the one-two-three. How are they supposed to dance to this?
”There’s more to this than following the steps.” Gabriel holds out a hand. “Any takers?” To go to him, Raphael has to reluctantly let go of Michael, who looks like the sudden change in tempo has sent him into shock. Gabriel takes both of Raphael’s hands in his. “Freestyle, Raph!” Raphael has no idea what that means or even where to start. Luckily, Gabriel sees. He tugs them into something similar to a waltz, the same circle, but with steps that aren’t nearly as organized. They spin together, and it can only loosely be described as ‘in time’ with the music. Gabriel looks delighted.
There's a scuffle and a thump from the couch that has them all turning. Fen's woken up from his midday nap and barrels across the checkered floor into the middle of their little gathering. Fen always moves like a dog that has not yet realized it is quite small, and as such, is constantly bumping into chairs and legs like he expects them to be pushed aside. He hits Michael's leg this time, yapping excitedly. He recovers, shakes, and circles Raphael and Gabriel, still barking.
Gabriel lets go of Raphael to pick him up, hoisting the little mutt into the air as he wiggles around and tries to lick at Gabriel's face. Gabriel spins and dips, leading to another round of barking. Some part of Raphael wonders if they shouldn't remind Gabriel about the noise complaints they've already got a collection of, but then Gabriel hugs Fen close and looks completely at peace. Their neighbors will simply have to live with a little barking and dancing.
It's Lucifer who steps forward first to take Gabriel's place. Raphael lets him. He's humming along to the chorus, and they join in, not thinking much of it until Lucifer stops all of a sudden, looking a little shaken. Raphael spares him a reaction, keeps humming, until he gathers himself and carries on like it's nothing. Like he hasn't been deprived of his siblings' voices for centuries. Some things are meant to be remedied, not talked through until the scabs are picked to bleeding.
Michael hesitates again. Of course he does. But not forever. On one twirl, (just as fun as the first time. Raphael is never going to get tired of this. Their vessel disagrees, slightly winded but it hasn't forced them to stop yet.) he steps in, and Raphael goes from Lucifer to him. There's a frustrated noise from Lucifer, quiet but clear, and Raphael takes Michael's hand and guides him until his back is to Lucifer. His focus is on them, and when they put their other hand on his chest and give him a gentle shove, he's not expecting it. He stumbles backwards into their brother.
Gabriel freezes. Fen tries to nip at his ear with a confused whine. Raphael holds their breath.
Michael hums. Lucifer is silent.
Michael's humming falters. He makes to step away. Lucifer catches the tune where he left off, wraps his arms around Michael's waist, and hooks his chin over his shoulder. For only a few moments, they sway. Michael raises a hand to lay over one of Lucifer's. Lucifer lets out a breath, releases Michael, and retreats. Michael stays frozen.
It's enough. Raphael takes pity on Michael and moves back into range to dance again. Behind him, Lucifer passes Gabriel's offered hand, but he doesn't leave. He watches them from a comfortable distance until the music ends, Michael and Raphael tire out, and Fen starts squirming to be put down.
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