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The angels had very differing opinions when it came to pop culture's interpretation of the angelic race.
Hanjobadiel found it entertaining. Especially that Supernatural racket with the Padalecki guy.
Amenadiel found it annoying (mostly due to the fact that he was always forgotten in religion and television).
Samael found it enraging, Hollywood's red-skinned, goat-loving, bloodthirsty interpretation of him a slander to his image.
And Michael? Well, he didn't care for it. For the most part.
Although, he'd be lying if he said that having a horned, tail-wearing Devil popping onto his screen every once in awhile wasn't the source of a good chuckle.
Humans will always believe what they wanted to believe. And getting worked up over some ex-underwear model portraying his character poorly wasn't about to change anything.
But being forced to watch some guy who's hairdo could practically touch the ceiling theorize that angels were actually in the same league as ET? That was almost laughable.
"This is just fucking ridiculous." Michael drawled as he sat on the couch beside Ella in her apartment, watching something called Ancient Aliens. "Where's the clicker? There has got to be something else on."
"Did you just call the remote a clicker?" Ella asked, lips quirking up teasingly as she buried herself comfortably in the couch cushions, wearing her blue cloud pajamas. "What're you, eighty?”
"That guess is off by a few billion years." Michael commented, then frowned when Ella's chicken, Margaret (AKA, the bane of his existence), hopped up onto the couch on his other side, settling herself there.
From the tv, hairdo guy was talking about some angels-being-aliens-and-impregnating-humans theory, then claimed for the tenth time, "Could this be theoretically possible? Experts... say yes."
"Do they ever say no?" Michael asked with a light shake of his head. "Seriously, Lopez. This is about as informative as watching that Kardashian show."
"C'mon, Mike." Ella practically whined. "I'm enjoying it! Plus, it's educational! I mean, do we really know who built those pyramids?"
Michael raised a brow, and shifted on the couch, then leaned away from the chicken when she growled. "I think Ralph had a hand in that when he got bored. One of his hobbies."
"Oh," Ella said, eyes widening slightly. "Okay... But what about crop circles?"
"Saraquael likes gardening. I don't get it, but she says it helps her relax."
"But what about-"
"Lopez," Michael interrupted, raising his brows at her. "You're more likely to find a unicorn fingering a leprechaun than aliens via television shows."
The forensic scientist knitted her brows, thinking that over. "Well, technically speaking, you guys are kinda like aliens yourselves. And maybe-"
"No." Michael shut that thought process down. "Just, no. Also, do I look little and grey?"
"... Not the last time I checked." Ella replied, then got a mischievous glint in her eye as she grinned. “But now I know what you're wearing this Halloween!"
Michael narrowed his eyes at that, and tried to scoot away from her, only to get pecked in the thigh by the pterodactyl knockoff.
When Ella glanced at the tv for a second, Michael pushed the chicken off the couch, making her screech as she hit the floor, feathers fluffed up and irritated.
Ella then glanced between him and the chicken, brows lifting in suspicion, so Michael cleared his throat as a distraction.
"No, Lopez. Not happening."
Ella pouted in response, eyes going wide as she attempted to manipulate him. "But it'll be fun! You'll like it. I am great at cosplay. Lucifer even asked me once and... uh, on second thought, nevermind."
Michael tilted his head slightly, but decided to let that topic slide. Knowing his twin, it probably had something to do with some complicated sex fantasy. Something he did not need info on.
But upon thinking about the cosplay itself, Michael had to hold back a smirk. "I know about the cosplay, chica. I've seen your closet. But no. Last thing I want is to be covered in paint and latex."
Ella sighed in growing exasperation at his stubbornness, then climbed up to her knees, and placed her hands atop his thigh. "What if I was an alien, too?"
A suggestive smirk played on her lips as her eyebrows bounced. "I mean, I could rock some latex. And maybe rock a few other things afterwards. Where's your sense of fun?"
Michael tilted his head upwards, pretending to think about it. "Hmm, I'm pretty sure it ran away with my patience. Didn't feel like sticking around when Sam asked me to help change Ariel's diaper yesterday."
Michael almost shuddered at the memory, oh dad, the smell. He's pretty sure that was burned into his nostrils for all eternity.
"It's Aurora, and you know that." Ella chastised him, then sat back against the cushions with a playful eye-roll. "Yeesh, I thought you'd like to get the practice in... oops."
Ella's eyes widened like saucers at her accidentally slip up, and she sucked in a breath as she stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
Michael blinked at her, confused. "What?"
"What?" Ella parroted, voice unnaturally high.
Michael furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why would I need-"
Ella suddenly jumped off the couch, then jabbed a thumb towards the kitchen. "I'm hungry! You hungry? I'm getting snacks!"
Then she proceeded to run into the kitchen like a cat with her tail on fire.
"Wait, no. You can't always bribe me with food!" Michael argued, watching her from the back of the couch. "Not again!"
Margaret jumped up beside him again, and Michael didn't even hesitate before pushing her off, secretly enjoying the squawks of indignation. Better than ones of pride.
"And-" Michael was about to say something else, but any and all arguments died on his tongue as Ella walked back towards him, holding... "-why do you have a jar of pickles and peanut butter? I get that I'm not the most experienced when it comes to humans, but I don't think those two typically go together..."
Ella stopped a few feet behind the couch, trying to keep a straight face by nervously chuckling. "Old Mexican tradition. Totally."
The archangel couldn't help but narrow his eyes dubiously.
Ella's been acting... strange as of late.
Especially during the last week.
She's been glancing at him weirdly whenever she thinks he isn't looking, been poking at her stomach a lot, been eating like a bear preparing for winter, randomly running off to the bathroom to vomit (which she claimed to be due to a flu), and avoiding alcohol like the plague.
But pickles and peanut butter... was new.
"So, you sure you're not into diapers?" Ella asked, derailing his train of thought. And the hint of obvious worry in her strained smile confused him all the more. "They're not that hard to learn. I did them for my primos a lot."
"Can't exactly say that acquiring the skill is high on my bucket list. And... did you just dip that pickle into the peanut butter?"
Sure enough, Ella had set the jar of pickles aside after taking one out, opened the butter, and was dipping the pickle into it like a cracker and pâté.
Ella took a bite of the concoction, lightly shrugging her shoulders. "Old, uh, family thing. Anyway, what about bottles? Onesies? Teddy bears? Anything spike interest?"
Michael blinked. Then blinked again. "Are... are you asking me if I've got some weird kink or something?"
"What? No!" Ella vehemently denied, then sputtered a bit before chomping down her pickle with a helpless groan, pacing behind the couch as a utterly baffled archangel could only watch her.
"You're really wolfing down that PB and pickle." Which was a food combination he never thought he'd say. "You alright?"
"Sure," Ella replied after swallowing, tension growing more and more. She glanced at him, uncertainly filling her gaze to the brim, then gulped. "Probably be better in five months, but you know..."
"That's... an oddly specific amount of time." Michael commented, idly glancing towards the television. "But why would-"
After a certain amount of millennia, Michael's given up on expecting signs from his father. Signs, guidance, or whatever you wanted to call it.
But he was considering reevaluating that when a commercial for some diaper brand came on, and there was a laughing baby on the screen... baby.
Vomiting, tiredness, bizarre cravings, moodiness, not even a drop of blood in the bathroom for months when it usually looked like the scene of a massacre every few weeks... these were all signs of...
wait a minute.
But that's- angels can't-
The archangel's mind suddenly flitted towards his brothers' two bundles of half-celestial joy. Two bundles that broke nearly every Angel rule in the book.
A book that supposedly God Himself wrote.
But if it was truly possible for celestials to procreate, be it that self-actualization theory of Amenadiel's or something else, then that meant it was possible that Ella's-
... oh.
Oh.
That... that would mean Ella might be- "Pregnant."
Michael's eyes snapped up to her's when she spoke, and now he looked like the deer caught in the headlights.
Ella had sat her snacks aside, and now had both hands over her stomach as those hands threatened to tremble. "I-I went to my doctor last week. I haven't gotten my period in awhile, but I didn't think it was a big deal cause it's always been irregular. But then it was almost four months, and I keep vomiting, and gaining weight, and at one point I thought I might have cancer!"
Ella averted her eyes from his as she continued to ramble. "Which, looking back, didn't make much sense. But I was freaking out! But I don't have cancer. I... I'm pregnant, Michael. And I've been banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how to tell you."
That's it.
The Archangel Michael's brain was officially broken. It's been deep fried, tossed under a freight train, then thrown into an erupting volcano.
"You're pregnant." Michael said flatly, the words feeling foreign on his own tongue.
"Yep."
"... You're pregnant."
"Affirmative."
Michael blinked. "... Pregnant? As in, there's a half-human, half-angel parasite inside of you?"
"Hey!" Ella exclaimed in insult, glancing down at her stomach. "It's not a parasite! It's our baby, jackass!"
"It eats your food, drains your energy, and makes you vomit. I'm pretty sure that constitutes as a parasite." Michael replied, voice still flat as his brain struggled to catch up.
But when it did catch up... Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
"You're pregnant. Oh fuck, you're pregnant!"
All sorts of conflicting emotions bounced around his stomach like a broken pinball machine, all the little balls bouncing around with no rhyme or reason.
And it left him oddly dizzy and feeling as if his heart were a ticking time bomb getting ready to explode, and why was it getting so hot all of a sudden?
"Michael?" Ella sat down beside him on the couch, concern on her face. "You okay, bud?"
"How- how is this possible?" Michael rasped, his mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara. "Dad said that angels procreating was impossible..."
"Yeah, well, I think your niece, nephew, and son or daughter would like to disagree." Ella replied with a shrug. "So, I guess the Big Guy lied about that part... Surprise?"
"That's... definitely surprising." Michael's voice was becoming so high, it was starting to remind him of a cartoon character. His mind was racing too much to remember which one.
"Are... you okay?"
"Yeeeeaaaah!" Michael choked out, voice only going higher and throat somehow becoming drier. "Yep! Definitely fine! Just-just-I'm just... caught off guard and... and... I think I might..."
The dizziness suddenly hit Michael full throttle, and he didn't even have time to prepare before, for the first time in all of his eternal existence, he fainted like a fairytale princess.
Michael fell forwards as his body went limp, and Ella had to rush to catch him and push him till he was lying on his side on the couch.
Which was no easy task when the guy weighed as much as an elephant who needed to lay off on the peanuts (at least that’s how it felt for Ella).
Once finished, Ella grunted from the effort, then sighed as she propped a pillow under his head.
The forensic scientist settled herself near his face, knees on the floor, and one hand caressing his cheek while the other did the same to her own belly.
Ella turned to Margaret, who had watched this entire exchange from the coffee table, lacking a bowl of popcorn. "Still better than how Lucifer reacted to Rory... if Chloe's stories are true."
Ella swallowed, then leaned down towards her stomach, swallowing as she forced a smile. "I think he took it okay...? Don't worry, he's usually grouchy, but adjusts... Not sure when to mention there's two of you. But note to self, put tons of padding on the floor, just in case. Pillows should work, right? Plus... bubble wrap on the ceiling might be a good idea."
Ella thought about it for a minute, then shook her head at the insanity her life as become. And it was only bound to get more crazy with two celestial babies flying around.
Ella sighed, then placed a kiss on the archangel's forehead, smiling softly. "Love you, Daddy."
•••••••••••••••
When Michael woke up, the first thing he noticed was a pleasant savory smell filtering through the air.
The next thing he noticed was the chicken using his ass as a chair.
Michael swatted Margaret away, and she hopped to the floor, complaining all the while.
And the next thing he noticed when Michael sat up and got a proper look of the apartment, is that it looked like the bed part of ‘Bed, Bath, and Beyond’ threw up in their living room.
Michael got up from the couch, walking over the pillow palooza (how does one woman even have this many pillows?), looking for the woman herself. “Uh, Ella?”
“Hi!” Ella chirped as she walked in from the kitchen, bubbly as ever. “Hungry? I made tacos for dinner. Also, we might be having twins. Do you want chicken or beef?”
“Beef, and- Wait, what?” Michael’s voice became so high, he was almost sure only dogs could hear it now.
“Yeah,” Ella said, fidgeting with her hands. “I forgot to mention before… Double surprise?”
“Twins.” Michael’s voice took on that flat tone again, and again, his world was turned on its axis. “Two babies… Oh. That’s… surprising.”
The dizziness was back. Oh boy was it back.
Michael raised a finger, swallowing. “I, um, I think I might need to lie down for a min-“
And with that, the archangel fell forward against the pillows, falling flat on his face, and out like a light.
And started to snore a couple minutes later.
Ella sighed heavily, and turned to Margaret, who had waddled over towards them. “Welp, guess the pillows were a good idea.”
Margaret squawked at the forensic scientist, flapping her wings. Then proceeded to waddle over to the unconscious angel, and sit down on his rear end.
Ella clamped a hand over her mouth as she suppressed a laugh, then patted her belly. “I’m sure he won’t pass out on the big day… maybe. Some Sword of God my ass.”