@truearchangel ⧐
“I don’t sleep once you leave.” They had an agreement, one Michael never gave up. His magic, even with the fall, was still tied to that shadow with their deal. Not a real deal, no ties or magic for that, but one made between two people who couldn’t sleep. They never decided when to end that and knowing Alastor will never wake him if something happens, Michael won’t end it on his own. His magic keeps watch, paired with the shadow, and if something happens he’s woken up. Alastor left, and that was enough for Michael to feel something was wrong. Whether or not the demon realizes it’s because of the magic or simply because Michael can’t sleep alone (both are true), the outcome will still be the same. He won’t lay in that bed without the other. Which was what dragged the angel downstairs at a to early hour searching for the other. He wasn’t hard to find, the kitchen seemed to be like another home to home. A comfort. His nail wrapped itself around the other’s hand and Michael leaned closer, closing more of the distance between them. He did miss laying beside him, but Michael always did the moment they were alone. He wanted to cling to him, wanted to carry him back upstairs. He could achieve that too, he’d just have to fly because of Alastor’s height. “Are you okay? I saw…” he lowered his voice and pressed his lips together, worried about saying this in public. “The box of stitching, is it empty? Do you need my help again?” Michael did not like carving Alastor open. But would he do it? He would do anything the demon asked of him. “I love you. No matter what you need of me, you only ever have to ask.” UNPROMPTED ASKS.
Right - sometimes Alastor forgot just how long that initial Deal had been kept between them. He slept much more easily now, whenever Michael was around. And thankfully, it had not caused any vehement outcry from Lilith except on a rare occasion when he got mouthy. As he was prone to do.
On this particular morning, he'd spent at least a few minutes in the bathroom... lamenting his shortage of supplies. A few slightly older scars had re-opened from where he'd addressed them - just by nature of not being careful enough and flexing his flesh much more than it liked to so soon after obtaining another smattering of scars. But with the shortage of thread, he'd not been able to do much for them besides wrap them, for now.
Evidently, his frustration had been noticed, Michael's concern-laced tone telling him as much.
With a small sigh, Alastor scooted himself so that he was positioned in front of where the other sat. Equal in height now with the help of the counter. More or less.
"I am okay," he reassured, offering a little sincere smile that was reserved only for the other. Going so far as to lean to nuzzle his nose gently up against Michael's cheek.
His ears remained open, however, for voyeurs.
"I am just short on supplies. I have no wounds that are... especially pressing right now. I promise." Nothing he could not handle, his words said.
"Besides," Alastor added in a small chuckle against his skin. "I do not think the other residents would appreciate you getting your hands dirty in that way while in the kitchen."
