Chapter 40

Sam and Dean share a confused look for the umpteenth time that day — night — evening — whatever time of day it is. It's Dean that finally reacts, silently excusing himself from his conversation with Benny and Crowley — yes, it was going as horribly as it sounds — and walks up to Gabriel, who's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and just looking bored.

Dean glances at Lucifer, who's sitting on the floor near the younger archangel and asks quietly, "What's up with him?"

Gabriel looks down at his brother, who has been playing on some tablet device and muttering something under his breath in a language that pretty much no one understands, oblivious to the people watching him, for the last half hour.

"I made the mistake of introducing him to Peggle," Gabriel replies.

" is him playing Peggle?"

Gabriel nods. "It could be worse. He could be screaming in Swahili instead of whispering in it."

"Swahili?" Dean repeats, amused.

"Yep. He was speaking in Romanian earlier."

Dean chuckles despite himself. "Getting a little too worked up over a video game, in my opinion."

"Don't blame me. It's the fucking sunflower," Lucifer says without looking up.

Dean glances back at his brother, sharing an amused smile.

"I can't believe just said that," Dean laughs.

Lucifer just ignores him. The entire room — which isn't very many people; just the two youngest Winchesters, Jess, Benny, Crowley, Samandriel, the archangels, Jo, Castiel, and Balthazar, which actually seems like a lot of people now that I write it out like that — watches as he continues playing. Every minute or two, he mutters something under his breath, and each time, Gabriel announces which language it's in.

"French." "German." "Enochian." "That was, like, a weird mix of Spanish and Swedish."

"I'm pretty sure no one cares what language I'm speaking unless I'm speaking to them," Lucifer says, his eyes still on his game.

"And usually, we prefer it to be one we can't understand," Dean adds.

"Unfortunately, not all of us have the luxury of not understanding what people are saying," Lucifer replies, then starts muttering something under his breath again.

"Italian," Gabriel announces, then adds, "And very rude, too. What did the sunflower ever do to you?"

"It existed."

Gabriel just shakes his head at his brother, an amused smile on his face. Lucifer continues playing his game, continuing to mutter under his breath.

"That was, like, part Bengali, part Hindi, and part Portuguese," Gabriel says slowly as he attempts to process this. "I don't even know how he strung those into a sentence right there. It was something like 'I hate this flower and I want the unicorn back,' I think, but the sentence structure is weird and it doesn't really make sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense," Lucifer snaps. "I'm not talking to you guys."

"No, you're apparently talking to a sunflower," Dean laughs.

Lucifer doesn't even look up when he flings Dean into a wall. Benny walks over to the hunter and pulls him to his feet.

"You got a lot of guts, antagonizing the devil like that, brother."

"I wouldn't say guts," Dean replies. "More like boredom. Besides, he makes it too easy."

"Can't I complain about this mother fucking sunflower in peace?" Lucifer asks, exasperated.

"Not if you're in the same room as us," Balthazar replies. "It's your own fault you can't keep your mouth shut."

Lucifer sighs in frustration. "Fine." He disappears with a flap of his wings.

Gabriel sighs. "I should probably go find him."

"Or you could hang with us," Jo suggests. "Looks like Lucifer just wants to play Peggle in peace. I'm sure he won't cause too much trouble."

Gabriel's gaze flicks to Sam and Jess almost unconsciously, only for a brief moment before looking at Jo. "He's got a bit of a temper. I should probably make sure he doesn't break anything. Or anyone."

Before she can protest, Gabriel disappears, leaving everyone else in silence for a good two minutes.

It's Dean who speaks finally. "Well, that just happened."

"Wow, very observant of you," Crowley says sarcastically, adding, "Moron," under his breath.

"I didn't ask for your input, Crowley," Dean snaps.

"No, but if I'm stuck here, I might as well not sit in the corner sobbing uncontrollably, as much as you make me want to," Crowley replies.

"You and Lucifer have barely even acknowledged each other in days," Michael observes, his voice quiet enough that the conversation is just between him and Jo.

Instead of telling him the real reason — that they slept together and now things are awkward and she wishes he would just not exist — she just shrugs. "You told me to stop picking fights with him, so I did. He seems to have gotten the memo."

"It seems like it," he agrees. "Thank you for it. Lucifer and I may not be on the best of terms, but I do want the best for him. I don't think he'll start getting along with anyone but Gabriel if everyone just sees him fighting all the time."

"Can we not talk about Lucifer right now?" she asks.

"Of course, sorry. What would like to talk about?" he asks politely.

"Food?" she suggests hopefully. "What time even is it?"

"About four," Michael replies, because somehow, he just knows. I didn't logic this. He's just magic that way.

"Isn't that about sunset?" she asks.

"It wouldn't matter. We couldn't watch it from inside, anyway."

"Maybe Chuck would let us on the roof, at least," she says hopefully.

"I don't know. You could fall..."

Jo rolls her eyes. "The odds of me falling off the roof are the same as me drowning in the bathtub. It's not gonna happen, Michael."

"It's possible," he insists.

Jo sinks into her hip and crosses her arms. "You really think I'm going to fall off the roof?"

Michael opens his mouth to say something, closes it, then concedes, "No, I guess not. Come on, let's go see if we can watch the sunset."

Michael flies them both to the roof, and they lie down next to each other. The sun is still shining, and they know they still have a bit to wait until it begins to set.

"You mentioned food?" Michael recalls. "I could make you something."

"I'll eat after," she replies, her gaze still on the sky.

She foods her hands behind her head as a pillow of sorts, and Michael does the same, gazing up into the sun because he knows it won't hurt his angelic eyes.