The Legend of the Pervy Archangel
“There. All clean.”
Michael wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had a smile plastered on his face, the kind of smile that came from the immense satisfaction of a job well-done. And why shouldn't he be satisfied? He had just cleaned up the mess that had been Alice's apartment.
“It took some work, but I am pleased to say this apartment is officially clean.” Michael surveyed his handiwork, the smile on his face expanding until his lips were stretched from ear to ear. After a moment of observing the accomplishment his efforts had wrought, the angel-turned-human nodded to himself. “Yes, this is much better. I could never have fallen asleep when there was such a terrible mess afoot.”
A little known fact about Michael that most angels didn't know about was that he hated uncleanliness. Surprising, yes. One wouldn't think that a person who spent most of their time getting covered and the blood and guts of devils disliked being dirty, or dirtiness in general, but Michael, when not fighting, tended to take his own hygiene to the next level. He also preferred his living space to be clean as well. That was the whole reason he had kicked his former roommate, Azazel, out of the bachelor pad they used to share up in Heaven.
Well, back before Azazel had fallen, they had shared a room.
He wondered what the Governer-General of the Grigori was doing right now. Knowing Azazel as he did, the man was probably caught up in a tangled web of female flesh and orgasmic bliss.
It was only after Michael finished cleaning the apartment that he realized several things.
The first being that the sun had come up. When he started cleaning, it had been going down. Now it peered in through the window, bright and radiant and shining across the freshly cleaned room like it had never left.
The second thing he noticed was how tired his body was. As an Archangel, Michael never needed to fear tiring. Even in Hell, where his powers were considerably weakened because the lack of God's presence, he could fight on for centuries without pause. Now, though, his bones and muscles ached with a strange kind of exhaustion they had never felt before. The desire to just lay down, close his eyes, and fall asleep right there was overwhelming.
And the third thing he noticed was...
His stomach. It was growling. This, too, was something new. His stomach had never growled before. Angels didn't require sustenance like humans did. Of course, there were a lot of things they didn't need to do but did anyway, like going to the hot springs, but eating wasn't something any angel did. Unlike traveling to the nearest hot spring to have a soak in the steaming waters of goodness, a task undertaken for the sheer enjoyment of the act, eating didn't actually do anything. It simply served no purpose. Not even enjoyment.
Now his body had chosen this time to let him know that it was hungry, and he didn't know what to do. What was this strange rumbling in his belly? And why did he feel strangely empty?
“What the hell is that noise?”
The door to Alice's room swung open, and in the doorway, he could see the girl herself. She stood there, the light from coming in through the window of her room, casting a portion of her body in shadow as the outer edges of her figure were outlined by the sun. Her shoulders were slumped, and her midnight black hair hung about her face with strands sticking out all over the place. Her look reminded him of this one time when he and Rafael had a race to see who the fastest angel in Heaven was. Rafael's hair had looked much the same as hers did now.
Michael had also lost that race.
“Ah!” Michael smiled. “Good morning, Alice.”
Alice's right eyebrow twitched. “What's so good about it?” she grumbled, walking further into the room. Actually, it appeared to be more of a stumble. Her legs were all kinds of wobbly, and they didn't seem to want to do what they were told. Was that a human thing as well?
“There are plenty of good things about this day.” Aside from the fact that he was a human and still on earth. It was, as far as he could see, the one downside. “The sun is shining. The birds are singing...” Michael trailed off for a second, listening. He nodded, then, and quickly continued where he left off. “The birds are singing and I just finished cleaning your apartment.”
“You cleaned my apartment?”
Her eyes swiveled to him, still half-closed and covered in a strange gunk. Alice blinked, then lifted a hand and began wiping the morning crud off of them. That done, she looked at him again, staring for several seconds.
Then she looked around the room.
Michael watched, smiling as the teenager’s eyes widened. The look of surprise etched on her face was something that he would cherish for a long time to come. He also rather enjoyed the way her mouth opened up to form a pretty little “o” of surprise. She looked rather fetching like that.
Michael also wondered if all women looked this pretty when surprised. When he got back to heaven, he would have to surprise Gabriel, just to check and see.
… On second thought, maybe he would choose another female angel to surprise. Gabriel could be rather volatile when she wanted to be. Her temper was as legendary as her powerful right hook, and he didn't want to be on the receiving end of her deadly straight again.
Discretion, in this case, was the better part of valor.
“So, what do you think?” Alice turned back to look at him and Michael, still grinning, spread his arms out wide, encompassing the entire room. “It looks pretty nice now, if I do say so myself.”
“You cleaned this entire room?”
“I cleaned your entire apartment, except for your room, cuz you were sleeping and I didn't want to disturb you.”
Alice looked even more shocked, which Michael hadn't thought possible. “Why?”
Confused, Michael tilted his head. “Why what?”
“Why did you do this? Why did you clean my apartment?”
As Michael continued to look at her, he could see that Alice was beginning to look increasingly uncomfortable. The toes of her left foot made a circle in the carpet, her right arm had come up, bending at a ninety degree angle to grab the elbow of her left arm, and her head had tilted down to look at the floor. He couldn't even see her eyes because her hair was covering much of her face.
“Because you were kind enough to let me stay here, of course.” His answer caused Alice to look back up at him. “And, well, I'm not too fond of messes,” he admitted, feeling just a tad sheepish. “So I thought I'd clean the place up. I had the time.”
Alice observed him for several seconds. Each second that passed seemed to stretch out into a minute. Michael actually started to feel mildly uncomfortable under Alice's stare. Just a little. Like, a pinch. She had one of those hard, mile long stares that made him automatically think he had done something wrong, and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe she hadn't wanted him to clean her apartment.
“T-thank you.” The silence came to an end, thankfully, and Alice did not seem too upset. If anything, she looked more embarrassment than angry. Her cheeks were bright red.
Michael relaxed. “You're welcome.”
“You look tired,” she observed.
“Tired?” His lips turned down for a moment. Where had he hard that word before... ah ha! “Isn't that what you humans feel when you're no longer fresh or in good condition?”
“Actually it's what humans feel when they need to sleep.” Alice's voice was dryer than a desert. “And you're human too, you know? Or are you still going on about that Archangel thing?”
“But I am an Archangel!” Michael insisted, resisting the strange urge he had to yawn. Why did his body feel like it was beginning to shut down?
“Oh, yeah? Prove it,” Alice challenged.
“How can I prove it to you?” asked Michael, blinking.
“I want to see your wings.” Alice smirked. “If you're truly an angel like you say, then you should have angel wings. So, let's see them.”
“Ah, well,” Michael scratched the back of his head, self-consciousness playing at the edges of his vision. Or were those just black spots? “I can't actually show you those right now.”
“Really?” Alice crossed her arms under her chest, her smirk still in place. “And why not?”
Great. Wasn't this a little pickle he'd found himself in? What could he say to get out of this? Certainly not the truth. That would not end well.
He could just picture it now.
“You see, Alice, the reason I can't show you my wings is because I actually had my status as an angel stripped from me because I got caught peeping on several female angels in the hot spring. That's actually why I'm down here. You see, the big man up top said that I have to live as a human in order to repent for my sins.”
As the image of a smaller, chubbier version of himself getting smacked by a just as small and just as chubby version of Alice played through his mind, Michael shuddered.
Definitely not a good idea.
“I'm still waiting,” Alice said, the index finger of her left hand now tapping an impatient rhythm on her arm.
“Ah ha, well, you see, Alice, I actually can't show you my wings at the moment.”
“Oh?” Alice raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking upwards in a delightful smile that made him feel like pouting. She was enjoying this far too much. “And why is that?”
“Why? Uh, well, you see.”
Michael tried to come up with a good excuse to explain why he couldn't show her his wings. Thus far, he had managed to avoid telling her about the circumstances that led to him crash landing on earth by being vague enough that he wasn't lying, but she didn't actually know the “why” of his presence on Earth.
Unfortunately, angels couldn’t lie. It was physically impossible, so he was grasping at straws. Sharp, pointy straws covered in barbed wire, poison, and a whole host of other unpleasant nastiness.
“I just... can't... right now,” he finished lamely, his shoulders slumping. He couldn't tell her the truth. At the same time, he couldn't lie either. In other words, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place, or an embarrassing truth and a girl. It all amounted to the same thing.
“Really?” Alice was grinning by this point. She clearly still didn't believe him.
“But I really am the Archangel Michael! I swear!”
“Right, right. I believe you,” she said in that airy “I really don't believe you, but I’m humoring you because it amuses me kind of voice.” It was a voice that Michael hadn’t heard in awhile, but he could still recognize it. Most people couldn’t differentiate one tone of voice from another, but Michael could.
It came with the territory.
“I'm telling you the truth!”
“Uh huh. Sure, sure. And I'm Jesus Christ reborn.”
“Mou.” Michael pouted at Alice, his lower lip jutting out in childish petulance. “You shouldn't joke about things like that. Jesus is a pretty chill guy, but even he takes offense when people make jokes like that.”
He was being serious, too. Jesus was one of the most relaxed guys he knew, always calm, always collected. He didn't get angry… unless you made cracks with his name in it. Then all bets were off.
Michael could still remember the time a newer angel had made a joke about him being Christ reborn when he didn't believe he had died and gone to Heaven. Never in all his years had he seen a living (sort of living) being bend like that. The poor angel was still walking around with a gimp.
“Whatever. I doubt he cares.”
Michael wanted to contest the girl. In fact, he was this close to opening his mouth and telling her that Jesus actually would take offense to the joke, but he couldn't. Something interrupted him before he could.
Like the roaring of an angry lion out on the hunt, Michael's stomach let loose with a loud, earth-shattering, apartment-shaking bellow that caused the walls around them to rattle. The floor shook. The ceiling shook. Alice shook. Everything was shaking. Michael was surprised the glass on the windows hadn’t shattered.
Michael and Alice both looked down at his stomach.
“Looks like you're hungry.”
“Hun-gry,” Michael tasted the word on his tongue. “What's that?”
Alice stared at him, incredulous. “Surely you know what hunger is? Come on! Even you can't be that stupid!”
“I'm not stupid!” Michael frowned at the girl. Why did she have to be so insulting? “And I don't know what hunger is. I've never felt this hungry that you speak of.”
Alice looked at him, her right eye twitching. Several seconds later, she sighed.
“Wh-whatever. I'm through arguing with you,” she said, her tone resigned. “Just… just go sit somewhere and I'll make us breakfast.”
Michael had no clue what breakfast was, but figured it would be in his best interest to just do as asked. She was the human, after all, and he was only now beginning to learn what it meant to be human.
Why couldn't God have provided an instruction manual for him?
~The Archangel Michael~
Alice grumbled as she walked through the kitchen (which was now clean. Thank God!). Did that man seriously not know what hunger was? How could that even be possible? Everybody knew what it meant to be hungry. And that man, Michael, whatever, was clearly some homeless person. They were experts on hunger!
“Idiot,” she mumbled under her breath as she opened up the fridge. “I bet he's just saying he doesn't know what hunger is to fuck with me. Stupid jerk. Who the hell does he think he is?”
Grabbing the carton of eggs, grimacing as she realized she'd have to shop for more food some time today, Alice walked over to the stove. There, she got out a nonstick pan and grabbed some olive oil. She normally used butter for her eggs, but she found out last night that her butter stores were empty. Since she didn’t have butter, she liberally coated the pan with oil, making the surface even, turned the stove on, and then set the pan on top.
Eggs were a relatively simple dish to make, especially scrambled eggs like she was making. Crack the eggs into the pan, whisk the eggs until the yoke and white blended together, add a little bit of salt, a little bit of pepper, and then stir. Simple. Not to mention cheap.
With a budget like hers, cheap was the only way to go.
“Honestly, what kind of idiot goes around telling people he's an Archangel anyway,” Alice continued her soft ranting while she cooked. “He must be one of those 'end of the world' kind of people.” Her mind absently conjured an image of Michael running around Los Angeles, a cardboard sign that read “I'm the Archangel Michael” hanging down his chest. The image made her chuckle. “Yeah, I can definitely see him doing something like that.”
Her eggs soon finished scrambling, and Alice served them up on a pair of plates. She threw the now empty carton into the surprisingly empty trashcan, grabbed two forks from the utensil drawer, and then wandered into the living room, plates in hand.
There she found Michael, his body sprawled out on the ground. He was lying on his back, his eyes closed, feet splayed, and mouth hanging open. A tiny bit of drool escaped his mouth, and she could pick up his soft snoring.
It was kind of cute.
“He must be really tired if he can go to sleep just like that,” Alice said to herself. “Does that mean he actually did stay up all night cleaning my apartment?”
The thought was embarrassing, extremely so, but at the same time, she couldn't help but feel touched. She had let him spend the night here, but she honestly hadn't expected to get anything out of it in return. That he had apparently decided to use his time cleaning her mess of an apartment instead of sleeping made her chest feel as warm as her face.
“Hehehe... come on...” Michael's hands came up and he began making absent squeezing motions in his sleep. “Just a quick feel... hee hee... I wanna see how big they've gotten.”
And just like that, the warmth that she'd been feeling fled faster than heat during the winter.
Alice felt a vain throbbing powerfully on her forehead.
~The Archangel Michael~
Several seconds later, Michael and Alice were sitting on the floor, eating breakfast. Michael's right eye was black and swollen, which would make sense because Alice had stomped on it. She might not have been wearing any shoes at the time, but that meant little when someone was putting all their weight and combining it with gravity to deadly effect. Besides, getting hit by someone's heel hurt. Michael knew that from experience.
“This stuff is really good!” Michael said in between bites of food. “What did you call this stuff again? Eggs? It's amazing!”
Alice stared at him in shock as he cleaned his plate within seconds after the first bite.
Finishing his food, Michael set the plate and fork down, then leaned backwards, using his hands as support. “Ah! That really hit the spot. I wonder why we don't have anything like this in Heaven? This food stuff tastes amazing!”
“Glad you liked it,” Alice mumbled, still staring at him in shock.
Michael looked at her in concern. “Hey, are you alright?”
Shaking her head, Alice finished off her own plate. She then took both their plates and utensils over to the dishwasher, which she began running soon after. Michael watched her from a distance, curious to know what the strange contraption she was using was, but not really feeling up for asking.
The last time he asked her something, she called him stupid. He didn't want to be called that again.
Alice then came back and sat down next to him, crossing her legs. She looked at him, her gaze inquisitive. She obviously wanted to ask him something.
Again, Michael noticed. “Something on your mind?”
“I was just wondering if you had any plans now?”
“Plans?” Michael frowned while Alice gave him a nod. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “I… not really, no,” he admitted. “God sent me here because I have to do something, but he never did tell me how to go about accomplishing this. God's cryptic like that,” he added upon seeing her deadpan stare. “He likes telling us to do things but not why. He says it helps us learn. Personally, I think he just enjoys being vague. But, anyway, I don't really know how to go about my task, so I'm sort of just floundering around in the dark.”
“I can't believe you're still going on about that.” Alice shook her head. Michael didn't like the way she said that, but he didn't get a chance to comment. “Since you don't have anywhere to go, I guess, well, maybe I could let you stay here. B-but only for a little while, okay? I don't want you staying here forever! Got that?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
Michael smiled at the girl, making her face look like a firetruck.
“What are you smiling at, jerk?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head. “I just can't get over how nice you are.” The hue of her cheeks darkened. “You tend to come off as abrasive, but you're really a kind and caring person. I'm lucky to have met you.”
Alice's face, which looked like one could boil lobsters on it, became so red Michael thought steam might start pouring out of her ears.
Michael found himself lying on his back not even a millisecond later, wondering why he could see stars floating around his head. Alice stood over him, her left fist extended from where she'd given him a powerful pounding, her chest and shoulders heaving as she tried to get her humming bird of a heart under control, and her entire body burning with the intensity of the sun. Her fist had steam wafting off of it, as did Michael's head, which had a ginormous lump growing on the spot she'd hit him.
Look out Gabriel, you've got some competition.