"Speechless"
An Earthian fanfiction
Written by Komadori-chan MD 
[Fanfiction is non-profit – Earthian © Yun Kouga] 
Published 03-27-02

 

"...and so, in conclusion..." Michael rounded his desk and perched 
casually on its' edge, gesturing with one hand toward the display 
board behind him for what appeared to be the final time, prompting 
his audience to observe the boldly outlined statistics, "we find it 
to be in our best interests to continue to follow the traditional 
methods of production. Therefore, we will not be offering our 
support to the Kamura-Shindou merger."

"And time!" a single, petite, coral-haired girl called breathlessly, 
simultaneously depressing the stop button on her hand-held 
stopwatch. Glancing down at the timepiece, her amethyst-colored eyes 
widened and a triumphant smile broke over her face, "15 minutes!" 
she announced excitedly, flashing her superior a thumbs-up. "That 
was perfect Michael-sama!"

"Thank you, Adah," the golden-haired archangel returned the 
smile, "How was my speech? Will it fly?" he asked teasingly, knowing 
how much importance the younger angel—as well as several of her 
classmates— had placed on this deal, so worried was she about the 
outcome that she had taken to biting at her nails. Of course he 
wouldn't have let such a badly reasoned merger take place. It was 
surprising to realize so many of the students had believed that he 
wouldn't have made a move to intervene.

Adah blushed prettily under his gaze, understanding the undertones 
in his words, "Oh yes, sir... it was great—I loved it," she grinned 
broadly, too excited to feel awkward for her transparency. "The 
committee will be very impressed."

"Excellent," Michael smiled happily, "If I have that kind of 
approval from you, then I have a sure winner, don't I?"

Adah chuckled heartily, moving to stand, "Only if you say so, 
Michael-sama."

Sapphire eyes sparkled mischievously from behind a deceptively 
youthful tumble of curls, "Oh, I do say so. After all, I have one 
half of the Academy's highest-ranking speech and debate team 
standing here in front of me, telling me that my argument is a good 
one. If there's any confidence to be gained from anyone, it would 
have to be from you, dear girl."

"Thank you, Michael-sama. That means a lot to me," she replied as 
humbly as possible, though there was an unmistakable brightness in 
her eyes that refused to be concealed.

"Of course," he replied with a wave of his hand, "you worked hard 
for that title—you and Zillah both—and I hope you both continue to 
do well in your studies and meets." (1)

"Oh, we will. I assure you, Michael-sama."

"Oh... by the way... how is that partner of yours faring these days? 
I daresay I haven't seen nor heard from her in ages," Michael said 
thoughtfully, folding his arms across his chest.

"She's as difficult as ever," the rose-haired plus-checker giggled 
conspiratorially, flashing Michael a wicked smile.

"Still keeping you up at night?"

"Always," Adah sighed and gave a dramatic roll of the eyes, "You 
think you've got it bad until you get landed with a partner who 
insists on debating the hopelessness of Earthian philosophy and the 
dysfunction of their subcultures at two in the morning on a school 
night."

"I take it she's still upset about that speech you gave on Earthians 
and their successful incorporation of aesthetics as a component of 
functionalism?" Michael asked innocently. (2)

"Very. You'd think that she'd give the Earthians a break once in a 
while. I mean, they're not all that bad—some of their ideas are 
actually quite brilliant—"

Just then, there was a quiet knocking at the door followed by a 
soft, muffled voice, "Michael-sama?"

"Come in," he called back, not surprised in the least when Raphael 
appeared in the doorway, holding a set of rather large manila 
envelopes.

"Do you have a moment?"

"Ah... yes..." Michael nodded to his partner briefly before turning 
back to the young angel, "My apologies, Adah, but we shall have to 
talk some other time."

"Oh, that's fine. I should be getting back to the dorm anyway, 
before Zillah gets worried."

"You've been most helpful. Thank you for your time—and please say hi 
to Zillah for me."

"Oh, I will! And any time you need anything, just let me know!" with 
a bow, she slipped past Raphael and bounded out of Michael's office, 
calling over her shoulder, "Ganbatte, Michael-sama!"

Chuckling softly, Raphael closed the door behind him and strode over 
to where Michael still sat, balancing on the edge of his desk, "Such 
displays of youthful energy... Makes you wish you were at that age 
again, doesn't it?"

"Yes..." Michael sighed almost tiredly, "more often than you could 
possibly imagine."

"What? Is that son of yours still running circles around you?"

"Chihaya has more energy in him than any one creature ever had a 
right to," Michael said distractedly, staring curiously at the 
envelopes in Raphael's hand, already knowing that his comrade had 
more sense in him than to challenge that declaration. "What are 
those?"

The ash-blonde archangel held out the envelopes, "These are those 
statements that you requested from the involved companies."

"Good," Michael reached out and took hold of the papers, his fingers 
settling lightly over Raphael's and holding for a moment, "Oh, 
before I forget," he asked casually, "what is the status of the 
committee?"

"That was another thing I wanted to tell you," Raphael replied 
slowly, his eyes flicking downward as the hand over his slowly 
withdrew, taking the papers with it. "They've started arriving 
already—we're just waiting on the last two representatives of the 
Kamura Corporation to get here and then we'll be ready to begin the 
proceedings."

"Then I should start getting ready, shouldn't I? It would do just as 
well to start early, so we can get home sooner." Michael placed the 
envelopes down beside him idly, forgetting for a second that the cue 
cards he had prepared earlier for his speech were right there and 
succeeded in spilling them messily onto the floor below. "Oh... 
damn..." he swore softly, moving to pick them up, but Raphael had 
already bent to do it.

"Oh, no, Raphael, that's okay—here, let me take care of th—" 
whatever Michael had intended to say next was cut short, followed 
instead by a small cry of distress.

Michael had some rather unfortunate timing and found himself leaning 
down to help at the exact moment that Raphael had chosen to try to 
stand up again. There was a dizzying flash of pain as Michael's chin 
collided solidly with the top of Raphael's head and a tiny whimper 
of surprised hurt escaped him before he could stop himself.

"Itsu..." he swore eloquently, his hands instinctively coming up to 
cup his chin. 

Raphael winced and rubbed his own violated skull tenderly, but 
appeared to be more concerned about his commanding officer, who had—
whether he realized it or not—a small rivulet of blood flowing from 
the corner of his mouth.

"Michael-sama—sorry, I... are you alright?"

Michael nodded distractedly, still too disoriented to realize that 
he was, in fact, bleeding.

Sighing, Raphael tossed the cards back on the table, straightened 
up, and came to stand in front of Michael, prying his hands away 
from his face with one hand and carefully cupping the side of his 
cheek in the other. Frowning, he tilted the other man's face 
upward, "Michael-sama, open your mouth."

"'M'frine (I'm fine)," Michael mumbled indignantly, his cheeks 
burning with a barely suppressed humiliation as he realized just how 
clumsy he had proven himself to be in front of his partner. 
Thoroughly mortified, he tried twisting out of Raphael's grip, 
wanting nothing more than to escape this incredibly embarrassing 
situation, "Lel'go (Let go)!"

"Uh uh. Stop being silly, Michael-sama," Raphael demanded 
calmly, "Open your mouth... now."

Leave it to Raphael to treat him like a child while still employing 
honorifics. (3)

Shooting his companion a dirty look, Michael reluctantly complied. 
Raphael flinched when he saw the amount of damage done—particularly, 
the deep puncture wounds Michael's teeth had left across his tongue 
from the force of the impact—quite thankful that he'd only gotten a 
lump on the head for his troubles. He was silent for a minute, a 
look of deep concentration stealing over his normally impartial 
expression as he weighed his options. After a time, he spoke, "it 
isn't too bad, considering... it should heal fine on it's own, given 
the proper time. However..."

Michael felt, rather than heard, Raphael's pause. It didn't matter 
what the taller archangel had been saying; to him, what did matter 
was that there was only one thing that could have inspired such 
hesitance on Raphael's part... and it made Michael's heart freeze 
painfully in his chest.

"However..." Raphael continued softly, taking in Michael's stricken 
expression, "I don't think that that bodes well for you speech..."

An entire eternity and a single heartbeat later, Michael felt 
something warm brush against his lips, ever so lightly... just 
barely touching him... and it took him a moment to realize that 
Raphael had, indeed, bent to kiss him. However, it was only a 
feathering touch, just enough to ensure it was happening, but not 
enough to accomplish anything. 

For the longest time, Raphael seemed to hover just above him, 
considering... wondering if he would really do such a thing. Michael 
really wasn't so sure that he should, even if it did mean that his 
meeting would have to be called off. And for those few moments, they 
simply breathed each other in—perhaps afraid of what would happen if 
either of them moved. But then, Michael felt Raphael's resolve 
strengthen and tried to brace himself, unconsciously sliding his 
hands up against his partner's chest.

"Forgive me." (4)

Michael thought he heard Raphael whisper something, but that thought 
quickly evaporated under a warm, solid pressure as the tempest-eyed 
angel pressed their lips together firmly, pulling his flaxen-haired 
counterpart closer, now cradling his face in both hands.

`Oh Dear Lord...' Michael gasped into the kiss, fighting down the 
moan that threatened to escape him when the hot, moist sensation of 
Raphael's tongue slid gently along the curve of his lower lip, 
coaxing his mouth open tenderly. His entire, traitorous body seemed 
eager to open up for Raphael in that instant, buckling under the 
stress of nearly twenty years of suppressed desire, moving almost of 
its' own volition. But Michael struggled to maintain his control, 
willing his fingers to remain unclenched and his breathing to be 
steady.

But it was so difficult... and his partner wasn't making it any 
easier for him, working as slowly as he was. You would think that 
after so many years and so many encounters with Raphael's healing 
kiss, he would have built up some sort of immunity to the guilty 
pleasure it produced. Unfortunately, he would not be granted such a 
respite this time. Raphael had such a talented mouth, after all...

Michael shivered when he felt their tongues touch, but was 
unprepared for the dizzying rush when Raphael's tongue curled and 
began tracing the very edges of his own, working along, over, and 
underneath in a slow, alternating caress that left him weak and 
breathless. It was enough to bring tears to his eyes, knowing that 
this was happening... and that the only thing he could do was endure 
it. Endure, because the consequences of letting his desire be known 
were potentially fatal. For it was wrong... this way of thinking... 
it was against the law. And Heaven forbid, he might work up the 
courage to kiss Raphael back.

It was all he really wanted... and—by Eden—that was exactly what 
Raphael seemed to want him to do as well, judging from the way he 
was going about things.

But for what it was worth, Michael continued to hold himself, crying 
out silently as he felt his tongue being drawn forward into 
Raphael's mouth, the flow of blood between them lessening as the 
dusk-eyed angel's lips slid over him. Closing his eyes tightly, 
Michael let his fingers curl into the fabric of the other's vest, 
using the pressure to steady himself—half praying that Raphael would 
stop... half wondering where the hell that last thought had even 
come from.

When it was exactly that his legs decided to give out, he didn't 
know. How long it took for his arms to wind themselves up behind 
Raphael's neck was also anyone's guess. But by the time Michael 
realized any of this, the blood had long since stopped flowing and 
all the pain had receded to nothing... but they were still twined 
together in a fashion that was now quite unacceptable. 

And Michael found, much to his amazement, that he didn't care.

`This is Raphael, after all... and if he hasn't stopped by now...' 
(5)

Taking that cue, he finally allowed himself to be led into this 
forbidden dance, mesmerized by the ritualistic simplicity of it and 
charmed by the overwhelming sense of urgency behind it. Wrong though 
it was, he realized this one kiss would have to be drawn out as long 
as possible and imprinted forever in his heart. For once it stopped, 
it would be over and there would be no coming back. Perhaps Raphael 
already knew this when he began... then again, that wasn't for 
certain.

If there was any one thing he would be sure of, however, it was that 
Raphael would not be finishing without him.

`Any other time, I'd let you get away with this... but not this 
time...' and before he could contemplate what he was about, his body 
made up his mind for him and corrected the difference between him 
and his partner, closing that distance in a very decisive fashion. 
There was a quiet, rustling noise and his second-in-command gave a 
soft sound of surprise and rocked back on his heels briefly, but 
otherwise made no move to stop him.

In fact, unless he was very much mistaken, Michael could've swore he 
felt the faintest of smiles on Raphael's lips just before they 
melded together in a manner he had only been able to dream about 
before. And for a fleeting moment, Michael embraced everything he 
ever wanted—finally granted the hope and affirmation he had been so 
desperately seeking of Raphael all these years—absolutely elated to 
discover that Raphael would give that to him, despite his better 
judgement.

It was sweet and simple—their kiss. An ephemeral, mutual union of 
mind, heart, and body that—in it's own right—lasted a lifetime.

However, it was far too short—the gentle press of lips abruptly 
parting and an equally reluctant pulling away as Raphael sought to 
catch his breath, his eyes unable to hide his disappointment in his 
own actions. As he took a step back, Michael thought he felt 
something soft and warm brush against his cheek, but before he could 
gather himself, the reason for Raphael's unexpected behavior made 
itself known, manifesting in a curt rapping on his office door.

"Michael-sama," with only that warning, the said door swung open 
partway and one of his secretaries stuck her head in, her powder-
blue hair swaying slightly as she turned her face up to look at 
him, "the commit... tee... is..." she trailed off, noticing the 
slightly flushed expressions of her superiors. "Michael-sama? 
Raphael-sama? Are you two all right? You don't look so well."

There was a hesitant pause while Raphael steadied himself, realizing 
that Michael was not in the right state of mind to answer, taking a 
moment to clear his own mind before he could trust himself to speak.

"Daijoubu yo," he replied slowly, sounding more calm than he felt, 
but did not meet her gaze, preferring instead to busy himself with 
straightening up the cue cards on the desk behind him, which had not 
made it back to their spot too nicely. "What were you saying about 
the committee?"

"Uh... they're all present and accounted for. They're waiting on 
Michael-sama to begin the presentation now... that is, if Michael-
sama is feeling up to it?"

"He'll be there, just give him a minute," Raphael said quietly, in a 
tone that left no room for questions.

"Yes sir. I'll go let them know..." and with that, the young angel 
slipped back out quickly, taking the dismissal without resistance.

Michael simply stood there blankly, staring uncomprehendingly at the 
spot that the other archangel had occupied just seconds ago, unable 
to absorb what had just happened.

"Michael-sama?" Raphael waited until he had regained a sufficient 
amount of composure before placing a hand on his companion's 
shoulder cautiously.

"Hm?" came the absent reply.

"Are you ready to give that speech?" he prompted gently, hoping that 
the other was still able to pull himself into that frame of mind.

"Uh huh..." Michael still didn't look at him.

Raphael, though still quite irritated for the interruption, felt a 
small, rueful smile tugging at his lips at the dazed look in his 
comrade's eyes. Reaching over, he lifted the pile of cue cards and 
statements from their spot on the desk and placed them in Michael's 
hands, "Here... you're going to be needing these."

"Huh? Oh... oh yeah..." Michael took the cards slowly, "thank you,"

"Come now, Michael-sama," Raphael began steering the other archangel 
toward the door, "I'll have the display board brought up immediately 
for you, and make sure that someone brings in the tea at 12."

"Nnn..."

Eyes of Winter Twilight narrowed thoughtfully, "Michael-sama."

"Hm?"

"Please compose yourself. For although I'd love to try, I don't 
think I can heal your tongue to speak intelligently for you." (6)

Michael gave a startled cough and blushed fiercely at Raphael's 
surprising choice of words, effectively shocked out from his 
fog, "Oh—ah, gomen, Raphael, I... uh..."

"Ganbatte kudasai," Raphael said simply, ushering him out the door, 
hiding a faintly amused smile behind his hand and watching as 
Michael nodded his affirmative to no one in particular before 
hurrying down the hall and out of sight.

Once alone, the dark-eyed archangel closed himself inside the room, 
leaning heavily against the door. Unbidden, his fingers rose to 
touch his slightly swollen lips as he stared at the floor in wonder.

`That's never happened to me before...'

Pause.

`Then again, that's never happened to Michael either...' he mused 
with a small smirk, recalling the way Michael's usually unerring 
eloquence had failed him so miserably just a minute ago.

Hopefully, that speech wasn't a lost cause.

But just in case, he would send someone else in his place to go 
check on things inside the conference room. After all, Michael had 
already been rendered speechless once this morning... seeing his 
assistant again so soon after the incident would probably only do it 
again. 

`A pity...'

With a sigh, he repaired his appearance and fixed his expression, 
readying himself to leave.

`Oh well... another day, another question answered.'

But before he turned to go, something peculiar caught his eye and he 
bent to retrieve a single, snowy feather that lay forgotten on the 
floor, blushing a little when he recognized it as his own. It 
must've been from when Michael finally kissed him back—he'd been so 
elated by the fact that he'd unconsciously opened up his wings. He 
was surprised that he had the presence of mind to actually fold them 
away when he'd heard the approaching footsteps.

Smiling gently, Raphael took the feather and, instead of tucking it 
away for future disposal as he might have normally done, placed it 
reverently on Michael's desk, knowing that Michael would eventually 
understand. `I suppose I owe you that anyway, Michael-sama...'

And with that, he turned and left, leaving the sole momento of their 
own personal meeting to flutter delicately in the passing breeze.

 

 

(... owari ...)

 

-------------------------------------------------

(1) Adah and Zillah are both original characters that I created 
simply for the purpose of enhancing Michael and Raphael's office 
environment. However, they do have their own little side story that 
will probably be explored throughout my upcoming pieces, since I've 
come to love them so much. Oh, and on a side note, their names were 
taken from the bible, both the names of the wives of Lamech. 
(Genesis: 4, 19)

(2) Aesthetics as a component of functionalism... put simply, the 
use of art in our designs for any sort of device made. I know it 
doesn't sound correct, but if you've ever heard the saying that 
presentation or appearances count, you could understand this concept 
quite clearly. So, although a device's function should determine the 
design, we Earthians have a tendency to require it to be an 
attractive one as well. (Thus, bishounen) *grins*

(3) I always figured Raphael would do this. No one else—except for 
the head medical guy—could possibly get away with playing mother hen 
to Michael and still calling him "Michael-sama". 

(4) Ever notice that everytime Raphael has to do this sort of thing, 
he apologizes beforehand?

(5) Okay, I admit it. The fact that Raphael didn't pull away as soon 
as he was finished seems incredibly OOC—but then again, I've never 
witnessed him perform a healing kiss on Michael's mouth before, so I 
don't exactly know what he'd do in this situation. In any case, I 
found it necessary in this fic to let him get caught up in the 
moment and not let him notice... otherwise, there would be very 
little point and resolution. I figure it would also make a few 
people mad if Michael hadn't had enough time to get his wits 
together enough to kiss Raphael back. ^^;;; Mustn't disappoint the 
readers. ^_~

(6) I simply could not help myself. The thought of Raphael cracking 
a joke was just too good to pass up.