Chapter Text
The Science Fair was a triumph of chemical engineering and sheer spite. When Trixie’s volcano erupted, it didn’t just fizz, it oozed a thick, glowing violet foam that moved with the slow, terrifying grace of a real tectonic event. The judges were floored, and Trixie walked away with a blue ribbon and a smug look that suggested she had reclaimed a bit of her power.
In the parking lot afterward, Trixie stopped in front of Michael. She looked at the blue ribbon in her hand, then up at his scarred face.
“I’m not gonna kick you,” she said, her voice flat but final. “And I don’t like you. I’m probably always gonna hate you for what you did. But...” She glanced back at Ella, who was waving at them from Chloe’s car. “Ella’s her own person. If she wants to hang out with a grumpy angel who shops at The Thrifty Fox, I guess that’s her choice. Just don’t mess it up or..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "I will kick your butt.”
Michael watched her walk away, feeling as though he’d just negotiated a peace treaty with a very small, very dangerous nation.
Later that evening, the Beast pulled up to the curb outside Ella’s apartment. The engine gave one final, whimpering shudder before falling silent.
“So,” Ella said, unbuckling her seatbelt and turning toward him. “First place. Not bad for a lost cause, huh?”
“It was a matter of basic chemistry, Ella. You of all people know that,” Michael said, though his posture was less stiff than usual. “The girl has potential. Even if her ninja skills are a bit unrefined.”
“She’ll get there. In science and ninja school! And hey, thanks for doing that. I know it wasn’t easy being the punching bag for Trixie's grief.”
Michael looked out the windshield. “I’ve had worse days. Most of them involving my brother and or a flaming sword.”
Ella laughed, a warm, bright sound that filled the cramped cabin of the RAV4. “You’re doing okay, Michael. Really. You'll be okay.”
She leaned over the centre console. Michael expected a high five or perhaps one of those enthusiastic shoulder slaps she gave the lab techs. Instead, he felt the soft brush of her arms around his shoulders, holding him in a firm hug. Before he could even process the contact, she leaned back and pressed a gentle kiss to his scarred cheek.
Michael froze.
It wasn’t a romantic gesture, it was something far more terrifying. It was affection. Pure, uncomplicated, and human.
For a celestial who had spent eons defined by his jealousy, his bitterness, and his distance from others, the warmth of her skin against his was like a physical shock. It felt like a low voltage current running straight to the spot where his wings used to be.
“See ya tomorrow at the Bean!” Ella chirped, hopping out of the car and slamming the door with her usual boundless energy. She jogged up the steps to her building, giving him one last wave before disappearing inside.
Michael sat in the dark car for a long time. He didn’t turn the key. He didn’t move. He slowly raised a hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he touched the spot on his cheek where her lips had been.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scrub the feeling off or protect it. He looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, the messy hair, the second hand clothes, the face of a man who had been the villain of the universe.
“Acceptable,” he whispered to the empty car, his voice cracking just a little. “That was... entirely unacceptable.”
But as he finally started the engine and the RAV4 let out its signature scream, Michael found that, for the first time in his very long life, he wasn’t thinking about the Silver City at all. He was just thinking about coffee beans, forest green flannels, and the girl who wasn’t afraid of the dark.
xxxxx
Eighteen months had transformed the Beast from a vehicle of despair into a reliable box on wheels, mostly due to Ellas excellent car knowledge.
Now, the back of it was crammed to the ceiling with Ella’s colourful, organised life and Michael’s meticulously packed boxes of cast iron pans and spice jars.
The new apartment was a far cry from Michael’s old one bedroom place. It was bright, with high ceilings and a kitchen large enough for two people to cook without clashing elbows. It felt like a fresh start, not just a place of penance, but a home.
Michael’s life had settled into a rhythm he never could have predicted. When Kyle decided to trade espresso for enlightenment in an Arizona commune, Michael hadn’t felt the urge to flee. Instead, with Lucifers backing, he’d bought the business. With Ella’s help, The Grinding Bean had been rebranded. It was still a hipster haven, but the coffee was now (almost) world class, and the atmosphere was warmer. Michael found he actually enjoyed the ownership, it was a kingdom he could manage with precision and care, rather than fear and lies.
His relationship with Lucifer was still complicated. It had taken six months of Linda Martin’s most patient mediation to get the twins to sit in a room without the air pressure dropping. Lucifer still made jokes about the Barista King, but the malice was gone, replaced by a baffled, grudging respect.
Michael set the final box, labelled Ornaments - Do Not Drop! onto the floor with a soft exhale. He looked around the living room. It was a chaotic, beautiful blend of her Science is Real posters and his minimalist aesthetic.
He walked over to where Ella was standing by a built in bookshelf. She was carefully positioning a framed photo from the kite festival. In it, Michael was scowling at a tangled string while Ella laughed, her head tilted back, a burrito in her hand.
Michael stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He leaned down, resting his chin on her shoulder, watching her hands as she adjusted the frame by a fraction of an inch.
“It’s a bit crooked,” he murmured, his voice no longer gravelly with spite, but low and steady.
Ella leaned back into him, her head resting against his. “It’s not, the shelf is. Your brother said so.”
Michael let out a small, huffing laugh. The physical contact still felt like a miracle to him. For eons, he had been a creature of edges and shadows, always separate, always wanting. To be held, to be loved, and to be trusted by someone like Ella had softened the scar on his face and the ones on his soul.
“I still don’t quite understand why you chose the man with the screaming car and the bad attitude,” he said, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her hair, citrus, lab chemicals, and pure sunlight.
“Because,” Ella said, turning in his arms to face him, her eyes bright with that unwavering faith he’d come to rely on. “The man with the bad attitude makes the best scones in the city and actually has a really big heart that just needed a little defrosting and some TLC. The car was a bonus perk. Besides, who else is going to help me organise my things so perfectly?”
Michael leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I suppose I am the only one qualified for the task.”
He looked around their shared space, at the boxes waiting to be unpacked and the life waiting to be lived. He didn’t have wings, and he didn’t have a throne. But as he held Ella, Michael knew that for the first time in the history of creation, he didn’t feel like he was falling. He felt like he had finally landed.