“Brother, please, just look at me,” Luke pleaded, but Michael merely shrugged. “Look at me!” He tried to sound commanding, but as his voice broke he just sounded pathetic. Michael had refused to talk to his brother since he landed in Europe to discover his under-aged brother there with him. He had pulled him by the ear to talk in private among the chaos of arriving troops being registered to give him a bollocking, but since he had heard the rumour that those who were found to have lied about their age would be shot by the British allies on count of treason there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do to stop his brother walking into the gates of Hell. Instead of acknowledging his brother he got up from his seat and grabbed the nearest dame’s hand, asking for a dance. He didn’t even bother waiting for a response; he knew one flash of his smile would be enough to win over even the prettiest broad at the dance. As they spun around the room he caught glimpses of his brother sitting by the side alone. Sulking as usual. A small smile crept up on his face as memories flickered in his mind of Luke sulking as a child. As tomorrow had drawn nearer Michael found these flashbacks occurring more frequently. It’s almost as if his mind wanted to re-live these good times whilst it still could. No. He couldn’t afford to think like that. That’s how people die. He brought himself back to the here and now, staring at the girl in front of him. She was pretty, he noticed, at least in low lighting. She kept looking down and blushing, a slight smile played on her lips which really brought out her dimples. It’s a shame she wasn’t his type. Michael scanned around the room over her shoulder to look for his brother- more out of habit than anything else- to find him being cornered. “Excuse me,” he said quickly, dropping his hands and leaving the girl alone on the makeshift dance floor. “Get outta my way, kid,” a solider slurred, pushing Luke against the wall. “Make me,” he snapped, a little redundantly. “What do you think you’re doing?” Michael intervened, grabbing the guy’s wrist to pull him away from his brother. Michael was by no means small, but this guys hands were as big as his face, and could probably crush his windpipe as easy as squeezing toothpaste from a tube. He took a quick breath to steady himself, never loosing eye contact. “This guy’s trying to defend this fucking Jap.” All eyes turned to the boy who resembled a deer caught in headlights. “What’s your name, kid?” Michael asked. “K-Kevin Tran, Sir.” “Are you ready to fight for your country?” “Yes, sir!” he said a bit more confidently, saluting as an afterthought. “Then that’s good enough for me. Leave the kid alone.” He stared at the bully, unblinking, until he shrugged off Michael’s grip and walked away. “Okay show’s over, nothing to see here!” As the crowd that had assembled disperse he grabbed Luke by the collar. “What do you think you’re doing?” “I don’t like bullies. Why else do you think I’m here?” Michael was startled by his reply, he had never really thought about why he was here, only what it meant. Luke looked up to his brother’s softening expression, and took his chance. “Dance with me, brother?” he didn’t reply, instead just tugged his brother’s hand to drag him to the edge of the dance floor. They quickly fell into place, hands gently cupping necks and waists. It was a slow dance, both of them felt too sombre to do anything but sway. Michael looked down at Luke, noticing the height difference was nearly non-existent now. He shoulders had filled out, and there were even traces of stubble. “Who taught you how to shave?” he knew it wasn’t their father, who had never been around long enough to teach them anything. “I learned from watching you.” They swayed for a few more moments. “There was so much more I should have taught you.” Michael mumbled into Luke’s shoulder and he lent to rest his head in the nook of his neck. “You taught me enough, brother. You taught me to walk, to read, how to throw a punch, how to, well...” he trailed off, a sly smile as he knew he didn’t need to finish that sentence. “When did you grow up? Why couldn’t you stay young and naive forever?” “Because that’s not how the world works.” His word sounded as if they came from another time, from another person, someone who had lived as long as God himself. Michael pressed a kiss against his forehead, fighting back the tears. They said nothing as they continued to sway.
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branchandroot
FILL: Team Balthazar/Castiel-Michael/Lucifer or Michael&Lucifer up to you
Date: 2012-11-19 01:26 am (UTC)Michael had refused to talk to his brother since he landed in Europe to discover his under-aged brother there with him. He had pulled him by the ear to talk in private among the chaos of arriving troops being registered to give him a bollocking, but since he had heard the rumour that those who were found to have lied about their age would be shot by the British allies on count of treason there was nothing he could do. Nothing he could do to stop his brother walking into the gates of Hell.
Instead of acknowledging his brother he got up from his seat and grabbed the nearest dame’s hand, asking for a dance. He didn’t even bother waiting for a response; he knew one flash of his smile would be enough to win over even the prettiest broad at the dance. As they spun around the room he caught glimpses of his brother sitting by the side alone. Sulking as usual. A small smile crept up on his face as memories flickered in his mind of Luke sulking as a child. As tomorrow had drawn nearer Michael found these flashbacks occurring more frequently. It’s almost as if his mind wanted to re-live these good times whilst it still could.
No.
He couldn’t afford to think like that. That’s how people die.
He brought himself back to the here and now, staring at the girl in front of him. She was pretty, he noticed, at least in low lighting. She kept looking down and blushing, a slight smile played on her lips which really brought out her dimples. It’s a shame she wasn’t his type. Michael scanned around the room over her shoulder to look for his brother- more out of habit than anything else- to find him being cornered.
“Excuse me,” he said quickly, dropping his hands and leaving the girl alone on the makeshift dance floor.
“Get outta my way, kid,” a solider slurred, pushing Luke against the wall.
“Make me,” he snapped, a little redundantly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Michael intervened, grabbing the guy’s wrist to pull him away from his brother. Michael was by no means small, but this guys hands were as big as his face, and could probably crush his windpipe as easy as squeezing toothpaste from a tube. He took a quick breath to steady himself, never loosing eye contact.
“This guy’s trying to defend this fucking Jap.” All eyes turned to the boy who resembled a deer caught in headlights.
“What’s your name, kid?” Michael asked.
“K-Kevin Tran, Sir.”
“Are you ready to fight for your country?”
“Yes, sir!” he said a bit more confidently, saluting as an afterthought.
“Then that’s good enough for me. Leave the kid alone.” He stared at the bully, unblinking, until he shrugged off Michael’s grip and walked away. “Okay show’s over, nothing to see here!” As the crowd that had assembled disperse he grabbed Luke by the collar. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t like bullies. Why else do you think I’m here?” Michael was startled by his reply, he had never really thought about why he was here, only what it meant. Luke looked up to his brother’s softening expression, and took his chance.
“Dance with me, brother?” he didn’t reply, instead just tugged his brother’s hand to drag him to the edge of the dance floor. They quickly fell into place, hands gently cupping necks and waists. It was a slow dance, both of them felt too sombre to do anything but sway. Michael looked down at Luke, noticing the height difference was nearly non-existent now. He shoulders had filled out, and there were even traces of stubble. “Who taught you how to shave?” he knew it wasn’t their father, who had never been around long enough to teach them anything.
“I learned from watching you.” They swayed for a few more moments.
“There was so much more I should have taught you.” Michael mumbled into Luke’s shoulder and he lent to rest his head in the nook of his neck.
“You taught me enough, brother. You taught me to walk, to read, how to throw a punch, how to, well...” he trailed off, a sly smile as he knew he didn’t need to finish that sentence.
“When did you grow up? Why couldn’t you stay young and naive forever?”
“Because that’s not how the world works.” His word sounded as if they came from another time, from another person, someone who had lived as long as God himself. Michael pressed a kiss against his forehead, fighting back the tears. They said nothing as they continued to sway.