Priestly

Chapter 3

*sorry this chapter is sort of long and a lot of things happen and it's kind of all over the place! Also I know absolutely nothing about medical procedures so just bare with my very vague sentences and such. Anyway...*

Michael led Lucifer into his small apartment and shit the door behind them, locking it. He set his keys on the island in the kitchen, and pulled a stool out into the middle of the floor.

"Sit down and take your shirt off, please," Michael asked. Lucifer was going to say something funny. Something about Michael being so demanding of him to undress, but he was to tired. Instead, he walked, without a word, over and sat down on the stool, wincing as he strained himself up onto it.

"I'm going to go get my stuff, I'll be right back, Michael told him, and he walked down a hall and into a different room. Lucifer sighed as he slowly lifted up his hands to unbutton his shirt. His arms felt much worse where he bent them; the pressure of arm against arm stung. He painfully shrugged the black dress shirt off, making sure to unhook the silver clip around his neck (I don't know how those things work??? I apologize), and he tossed the shirt onto the couch next to him. Michael walked back in, carrying a backpack sized white box. He set it on the kitchen island, pulling out various bandages, gauzes, and sewing utensils.

"Uh..." Lucifer mumbled, uncertainly. Michael set most of the stuff aside.

"Relax," he soothed, "I'll put on some of this paste stuff, it'll help numb around the wounds, so it won't hurt as much."

Gently, he took Lucifer's left arm and began slowly unwrapping the bandages.

"It looks like most of the bleeding has stopped. I'll wash around them a bit, then get you some new bandages," he said, in his most, I'm-an-adult voice.

He spent a few moments washing Lucifer's arms, and re-bandaging them. Next, he un-clipped the metal clasps and slowly unraveled the cloth like material from around the others waist.

"Thanks again for helping me out," Lucifer mumbled, as Michael threw the bloody wrappings in the trash.

"Really Brother, it's fine, he answered, gently setting his fingers against Lucifer's skin, looking closely at the cuts.
"I wouldn't want to find you bled out on the carpet in the morning. I'd much rather keep you alive," he continued casually, starting to gently wash the dried blood off.

"Me dying wouldn't have been the plan. I would have called a doctor if I needed to..." Lucifer answered, and Michael hummed his reply. Both were quiet for a while, Michael wiping cold gel around the deeper cuts, Lucifer watching. It was quiet for longer still, when Lucifer noticed Michael's eyebrows slowly furrow together. Lucifer's stomach flipped.

"Are you angry with me?" He asked tentatively. Michael glared up at him for a moment, then relaxed, sighing.

"No... I wouldn't say angry. I am a little upset. We could have easily found better alternatives for repentance."

Lucifer shifted his weight, the way a teenager would when being interrogated by parents.
"Well, I thought it was the appropriate amount of repentance-"

"Lucifer what did I tell you? Nothing is bad enough to harm yourself for!"

"... Beg to differ."

Michael sighed, the way a parent would while interrogating their teenager, and stepped back slightly, hands on hips.

"Did you kill anybody?" He asked seriously. Lucifer made a noise like he had just been slapped.

"No! Of course not!"

Michael shrugged, and turned to get out his sewing equipment.
"See? Then there's no reason for such rash decisions."

"Listen, I thought it was reason enough-"