Earthian Fan Fiction ❯ Lord Michael's Hair ❯ Lord Michael's Hair ( Chapter 1 )

Lord Michael's Hair

 

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Summary: Six months after the death of Lady Lucifel, Raphael takes over one of her former “duties” for her brother, Lord Michael. PWP. Slash.

 

 

 

Lady Lucifel had been dead for six months. Her death had been caused by an Earthian, and that had led to a wave of angels, both the higher ranked ones and common ones, despising the Earthians more than ever.

 

It had been a difficult adjustment to make for Eden, losing one of their head angels. Lord Uriel, Lady Gabriel, Lord Seraphim, Lord Michael, and Lord Raphael had to attempt to soothe the many angels and also consol themselves over the loss of a dear friend. Lord Michael, too, had an extra burden to bear, as Lucifel had been his sister, and they had been good friends besides being siblings.

 

Six months had passed since that death, and Lord Raphael let himself into Michael's mansion, as he did nearly every day. A small folder was tucked under his arm since Michael had felt like conducting business at his home today. It was not too uncommon a request lately, as Michael coped with his sister's death.

 

“Lord Michael?” Raphael called as he was met with an empty receiving room.

 

“I'm in the study, Raphael,” the regal tone of Lord Michael drifted from the open study door.

 

Raphael entered the study and saw Michael sitting at his desk, books on the Black Cancer open on his desk. It was disturbing, the outbreak of the Black Cancer they seemed to be experiencing… Yet, just as they were beginning to think of ways to try and fight it, the epidemic was fading. It always seemed to happen that way. There would be a horrible onset of the disease that caught Eden off guard, but as soon as Eden thought itself ready to start an attack on the disease, it basically disappeared.

 

“You're discouraging yourself,” Raphael said quietly, sighing a bit as he looked at Michael. The curly haired man sitting behind the desk looked up at his aide with a kind of sad smile. It was the same, Raphael reflected, that he'd worn at Lucifel's funeral when Michael had stated that Lucifel was no longer suffering. “Lord Michael,” Raphael whispered gently, though he stopped whatever he had been about to say, and instead offered, “may I get you some tea?”

 

“No, thank you,” Michael said. “Sit, sit.” He motioned to the chair across from his desk, and Raphael sat down, peering at his superior with a worried look that Michael did not fail to notice. “I'm fine, Raphael. I have simply had difficulty accepting Lucifel's death. I promise, I am on the mend.”

 

“When are you going to start taking care of your hair?” Raphael's question was frankly asked, and the sheer seriousness of it made Michael laugh a little, the first time he had in quite awhile. “No,” Raphael said, almost pouting when Michael laughed at him, “I'm serious. You seem to be taking care of yourself except for your hair. It really does not suit you to look so immaculate yet to have your hair so badly cared for!”

 

“I have tried,” Michael replied, striving to stop his chuckling at seeing that pout. “Yet it is difficult. My hair,” something that Michael did pride himself in, which was half the reason Raphael had been concerned about its neglect, “is stubborn about being properly washed and dried by just myself. Lucifel had to help me, but since she's been gone…”

 

“I could help you.”

 

The words had left Raphael almost immediately upon Michael's last words, and the lack of wait between them surprised Michael slightly. He looked at his aide, who had just faintly taken a pink color to his cheeks at having answered so quickly and having surprised Michael with that fast response.

 

“Well,” Raphael said, acting a bit hasty to explain his words, “I am your aide. I would be happy to help you in any way that I can.”

 

“I'd like that,” Michael told him after letting a moment of silence descend. His eyes turned to the folder Raphael had brought and laid on the table. With a sigh, he asked, “Are those more reports of the Black Cancer?”

 

“Yes, Lord Michael.”

 

“Would you mind terribly, Raphael, if we left those for an hour? I would rather like to get my hair taken care of, and I am not eager to hear more stories of the Black Cancer just yet.”

 

“That would sit well with me, too,” Raphael replied, offering Michael a smile.

 

“Excellent! I shall expect you in the master bathroom in ten minutes,” Michael said, faintly returning the smile Raphael had given. The superior rose and left the room while his aide stayed in the chair across the desk for just a moment.

 

Exactly ten minutes later, Raphael walked into the large master bathroom to find Michael waiting for him. Raphael had shed his casual suit's jacket in the study, and his white shirt he'd worn under the jacket was also off and draped over his arm. He deposited it on the bathroom counter before walking over to the tub where Michael, also having stripped his chest, was testing the water to be used on his hair. Raphael had tied his hair up into a sort of messy bun to prevent it from getting wet as he washed Michael's hair.

 

“Are these the ones I'm to use?” Raphael asked, pointing to the two bottles set beside the large, slightly inlaid tub.

 

“Yes,” Michael replied as he moved to stand in the tub. “The red is the shampoo, and the blue is the conditioner.” He pulled down the shower's detachable head and handed it to Raphael as his aide stepped into the slightly wet tub. The water had been left to run, but the open drain kept the water from really filling the tub. He moved to sit down on the marble of the tub's bottom with his back to Raphael. Raphael knelt down behind Michael then, running a hand through the curly gold locks just once, testing the thickness of them.

 

Michael tilted his head back as Raphael pressed the tab on the faucet, and the water began to shoot out of the shower's head. Raphael began to wet the hair with the flowing water, and Michael tilted his head further back as Raphael ran the fingers of one hand through the wet hair, making sure it soaked completely through.

 

Raphael pressed the tab again to turn the water back to the faucet, and he reached down to grab the red bottle. He applied a liberal amount to his hands. Carefully, he began to run his fingers through the long hair, massaging the shampoo into the hair. As he made sure to get the ends of the hair, he felt his fingers up against Michael's back, and he could not help but feel that Michael arched a little at his touch. For perhaps longer than he needed to, even getting more shampoo to prolong the application, Raphael continued this careful attention on Michael's hair.

 

Finally, Raphael pressed the faucet's tab again, and he rinsed the hair as carefully as he'd shampooed it. Again Raphael felt his superior's strong back against his fingers, felt Michael arch slightly at the touch and the feel of the water hitting his back through his hair.

 

Once more, the tab was pressed, and Raphael got a handful of the conditioner from the blue bottle. Intently, he worked it into the other's hair, especially at the roots, rubbing it in carefully. To do this, Raphael had to move closer to Michael, his bare chest pressing against the upper part of Michael's back and his wet hair. Raphael pretended to ignore it when Michael, at these careful attentions, gave a quiet kind of pleased groan. Michael shifted back a small bit at all this, pressing against Raphael's chest without intending to do such a thing.

 

Raphael didn't say a word as he pressed the tab again and patiently rinsed Michael's hair once more. He looked down at Michael as he did this to find that the other had shut his eyes and looked quite content with all this. Then again, that was Michael's way.

 

“There,” Raphael whispered as he pushed the tab again and then turned off the water.

 

“That felt wonderful, Raphael,” Michael said as he opened his eyes. After a pause, he added in explanation, “I haven't felt like my hair is really clean in a long while. We will have to do this again.”

 

“Yes, though,” Raphael said, smiling as Michael stood up before helping Raphael up, “next time, I will remember not to wear good pants.” Even if the water had been somewhat draining, both he and Michael's slacks were wet from the shower's spray and what had been left in the tub.

 

“Live and learn,” Michael said with a smile, waving a hand dismissively as he got out of the tub, followed by Raphael.

 

“Shall we get to those reports?” Raphael asked.

 

“Let's get changed, though. I can lend you an outfit that you can change out of before you go home to Gabriel,” Michael offered. After all, they were about the same size, so Raphael could fit at least decently into Michael's clothes. “How does that sound?”

 

“Quite well, Lord Michael.”