I don't see you like I should…

"Goodnight, Detective." Lucifer pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead, smiling to himself as she chuckled. "I'll be home soon." Home, of course, was referring to the beach house they - Lucifer - had bought not too long after they had gotten married, after they both proved incapable of deciding whether to move into the penthouse together or whether to live at Chloe's house. It was Amenadiel's suggestion, actually, to get a new place - which was part of the reason Lucifer was willing to allow him to stay at the penthouse. But his oldest brother surprised him, somewhat, with the announcement that he'd be living with Linda and Maze from then on. Of course, now Lucifer realized that it was better suited for him to care for Linda while she was expecting, and to be around the baby. Though, at the time, he'd been baffled, since, previously, Amenadiel had no plans of leaving. But, they all had to grow up and leave the nest sometimes.

Lucifer still used the penthouse, of course, on occasion. It was more of a hang-out area rather than a house. He was still getting used to the whole domestic thing, but he thought he was doing rather well with it in the long run. He stood at the doorway of the precinct for a moment, watching as Chloe walked off to her car. He didn't take his eyes off of her until she had gotten inside and pulled out of the parking space; only then, when he had assured himself that she was safe, did he finally turn to slip inside. The angel had taken it upon himself to finish up with the paperwork for their cases so that Chloe could go home to Trixie a little earlier and relieve the babysitter of the little Devil in training. He wasn't the only one staying late, either - shrugging out of his suit jacket, he nodded a cheerful greeting to the other detectives sitting at their desks, heading down to his - only to stop and do a double take when he saw Michael sitting at his own.

His older brother didn't look so good.

The angel's face was pinched, almost a scowl, with his elbow propped up on the desk and his head balanced in one hand. The other one clenched a pen as tight as Lucifer figured was possible without breaking it clean in half; Michael's knuckles were whiter than the suit he wore. And, for an angel - who didn't need nearly as much sleep as a human, even in Ella's presence - the bags under his eyes were a bit more defined than Lucifer thought they should have been, dark circles indicating long nights and restless sleep when he did ever manage to pass out. Long story short, Michael looked like Hell. And not in the fun way, either.

Concern overrode any sense of caution he might have had before. Even the twisting in his gut was a more instinctive reaction; by now, Lucifer wasn't exactly scared of his brother. He might have been, if he hadn't seen how soft he could be with Ella. If he hadn't seen how gentle, and caring, and quiet he was when they were together. If he hadn't seen the smile on his face when he hugged her, or the way he held her hand, or brushed her hair behind her ear, or kissed her on the cheek - it was the little things, to everyone else, but Lucifer knew how big it really was. He knew, before he'd come to Earth, Michael had never been so… loving toward anybody. And it wasn't just how he interacted with Ella, either - it showed in everything he did now. How he interacted with Amenadiel, for example. And how they interacted now; closer than ever before.

You look so misunderstood…

He laid his jacket down across his desk and retreated over to where Michael was, catching his glance and the way his mouth twisted sharply even in the dim lighting of the precinct. Lucifer didn't know what was wrong - but it wasn't the first time Michael had appeared grumpy like this. Usually it was Ella who managed to coax him back to his gentle demeanor, but Ella wasn't there - but Lucifer didn't mind taking the time to cheer his brother up again. After everything he'd learned, he knew better than to brush Michael's emotions under the rug. Hell, if anything, it was Michael who deserved the acknowledgement on how he was feeling, after going so long without feeling for himself to begin with. The angel sighed, pulling up a chair from the empty desk beside Michael's and adjusting it to sit across from his brother, on the other side of the desk. "Hello, brother," he greeted, lacing his fingers together. "Is Ms. Lopez working late, as well?"

"Ella got off early," Michael replied, quieter than Lucifer had expected. His eyebrows furrowed, but Michael didn't look back up at him; his hand slowed a little as he wrote, but he continued to do so regardless, marking stuff down on a form - presumably for one of his and Dan's cases. Lucifer spared a quick glance downwards, letting his eyes trail across the desk for a while. From the papers, to the files, to the computer, to the nameplate. Michael Prince. It was a nice change from Saint - more fitting, Lucifer had insisted. He had been helping Michael actually register as a citizen, since his human-unfamiliar brother hadn't done so himself when he'd first showed up. And he'd suggested the last name change, which Michael had practically jumped on - as the 'Prince of Archangels', it was a perfect fit. And it rolled off the tongue easier than Michael Saint.

Lucifer sighed, a fond smile playing at his lips for a moment, before he flicked his gaze back up to Michael. The archangel remained silent now, sliding the paper to the side and placing it carefully in one of the files, which he marked down before grabbing another paper off the stack. "But you're working late," Lucifer noted, and Michael only hummed in response, still silent. Damn, it seemed he would have to be more direct - which wasn't really a problem, of course, but he was hoping he wouldn't have to pry too much either. "... Michael, are you alright?"

Michael finally paused, with the pen inches away from the paper. His eyes flicked up to meet Lucifer's, the steady amber a little duller than usual. Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows, watching the myriad of emotions that crossed his face then. Exhaustion, desperation, pain, sorrow, anger. Each one was gone quicker than the last, and, in the end, it led right back to the exhaustion. "Yeah," his brother murmured, and they both knew his delayed response was a lie. "I'm alright."

"You're lying," Lucifer told him bluntly, though he knew Michael was already aware of that. The next expression that crossed his brother's face made it look as though he'd been sucking on a lemon; lips pursed, eyes narrowing faintly, it was clear he didn't want to answer - but Lucifer met his gaze as steadily as he could, not at all intimidated by the exhausted anger his brother was displaying. He was only concerned, and he wasn't going to turn away from his older brother out of fear anymore. He knew now, more than ever, that Michael just needed someone there.

And I wish I could help…

The expression faltered quickly enough; Michael's anger seemed to dissipate, crumbling back into exhaustion and exhaustion alone. Lucifer briefly considered hugging him, but he refrained for the time being. His emotions were fluctuating quicker than Lucifer had ever seen, but he still wasn't worried… well, he was worried for Michael, but that was the extent of it. He watched the archangel's expression shift, amber eyes flicking back and forth between his own, before, seeming unable to meet his gaze, he looked back down at the paper in front of him and lowered the pen down to it again, taking in a shaky breath through his teeth and shaking his head a little. "Rough case today," he finally replied, voice strained in an effort to hold it steady. "That's all."

Ah. Lucifer understood - it wasn't the first time one of the criminals had managed to affect his brother. Michael had admitted to him once that some of the emotions he felt from humans were terrifying. Sometimes worse than being up in Heaven even during the start of the rebellion, and nearly as bad as the demons he had fought against in the war. Realizing what humanity was capable of also meant realizing the bad things they could do - Lucifer, himself, still managed to be shocked every once in a while. The fact that it was still settling in for Michael didn't surprise him by any means, especially when he considered the fact that his brother could feel exactly what some of the more deranged of the species did. Not to mention the victims… yes, Lucifer understood. He understood, and he sympathized; he couldn't imagine what it was like.

He watched his brother for a moment, as he continued to write. All things considered, Michael was doing rather well with it all. Learning to control his own emotions even while feeling others'. All of that anger and pain had to be harder to deal with than he was letting on now - but his time with Michael in Heaven had shown him exactly what could happen if Michael lost himself in it.

"Would you like to go get a drink?" Lucifer asked suddenly after a few moments, and Michael flicked his gaze back up quickly, eyes widening just a little bit as he stared at the younger angel. "I know you're working, but I think you deserve a bit of a break." He tilted his head at his brother, curling his lips into a lopsided grin. "Come on. Let's get out of here for a while, brother." The archangel didn't respond immediately, furrowing his eyebrows slightly and glancing down at the paper again. He tapped the pen against it, looking contemplative - but, after a few seconds, he laid it down with a click and reached over to turn the lamp sitting on his desk off with a sigh.

"You don't have to ask me twice." His brother stood, pushing his chair back, and Lucifer leaped up to his feet with a grin, picking the chair up one-handed to return it to the other desk before he headed back over to his own to grab his suit jacket again. Michael was at the door and ready to leave by the time Lucifer had pulled it back on and turned back to him, looking a little more chipper than he had; mission accomplished, Lucifer grinned at his brother as he approached, even reaching out to loop his arm with the archangel's - and he earned a quiet laugh in response, but Michael obliged after a moment, though he did roll his eyes as he did so.

But it's hard when I hate myself.

And that was how they ended up in the penthouse, serving themselves drinks from Lucifer's bar. The angel was taking it slow, but Michael was happy to down one shot after another. It was odd, watching him try nearly every bottle on the shelf, nearly every brand of tequila and whiskey. His brother had always been more of a wine guy. But Lucifer let him, knowing that the archangel deserved to get a little shitfaced every now and again. He understood; even if he had promised himself that he wasn't going to drink his sorrows away, he could remember how great it did feel to let the world slip away for a little while, and lose himself in the intoxicating world of alcohol. He watched his brother, lightly spinning his second glass on the counter while Michael poured himself a mixture of whiskey and wine, using a straw to stir before tipping his head back and downing all of it in a few swallows. The angel watched, lips twitching, as he slammed the glass back down onto the counter and shook his head furiously with a somewhat startled gasp.

"Not a good combination, is it?" Lucifer offered, amused, letting his chin rest in the palm of one hand while he continued to spin his glass of champagne with the other. Michael shook his head in response, wide-eyed like a child, and the angel huffed out a quiet laugh under his breath. "Well, I could have told you that," he sighed, eyeing the drinks on the shelves behind Michael. His brother had jumped to the other side after a few shots, and Lucifer had let him with little protest. Maybe he was a bad influence, but Michael deserved this, didn't he? He'd had a rough day. Though, Lucifer was honestly considering booking him an appointment with Linda…

Michael groaned and sank forward over the counter after a moment, stretching his arms out and burying his head into them with a sigh. Lucifer watched him, eventually bringing his glass up to his lips to take a careful sip, while the archangel turned his head a little, still cradled in his arms, to look up at his younger brother with a frown that somewhat resembled the pout of a toddler. "Why're you doin' this?" He mumbled. Lucifer arched an eyebrow at him, setting the glass back down silently, and Michael heaved out a sigh. "Bein' nice to me. I don't- I don't…" His brother stopped, then, in favor of pushing himself away from the counter and turning back to the bar, and Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows silently, tilting his head faintly to the side with a frown.

"Michael?"

Silence. Michael simply continued rummaging through the bottles, before eventually selecting a bottle of white wine, studying the label as carefully as a drunk man could before he finally turned back to Lucifer, popping the cork out and stumbling over to pour the wine into his empty glass. Lucifer sighed a little under his breath and took another sip of his champagne. He'd tried to count how many drinks his brother had, but he'd lost track when Michael had begun mixing them. But he did know it was almost time to stop, because his brother was clearly… well, drunk. And yes, that was the point, but he was going to have one Hell of a hangover later, and Dad knows he didn't do well with hangovers at all - so, yes, Lucifer was going to have to cut him off.

"M'sorry," Michael muttered, putting the bottle down clumsily. "You know that, right?"

Pray to God with my arms open…

"Of course," Lucifer assured, softening a little bit despite himself as he watched his brother. It wasn't the first apology and Lucifer doubted it would be the last, but it was the first time since… well, since he'd died, that the angel had seen his older brother this vulnerable toward him. Michael offered no response, other than a non-committal mumble under his breath as he picked up the glass again, this time with a somewhat shaky grip, Lucifer noted, and tilted his head back to down the shot; the angel watched with a sigh as he slammed the glass back down into the counter, this time with a slight hiccup as he did. "Perhaps it's time to stop," Lucifer decided, watching the archangel for a moment longer, and Michael paused, reaching for the bottle again. He looked, briefly, like he was about to argue - but, after a moment, he dropped his hand.

"Stop," the archangel groaned, and Lucifer lightly circled his index finger around the rim of his glass, watching his brother stumble over to the other side of the counter. "Time to stop." He huffed out a quiet laugh, heading to the couch, and Lucifer heaved out a sigh as he looked down at the glass in front of him, studying the liquid for a while before eventually pulling his hand back and turning to face his brother, abandoning the champagne completely. Michael was silent, aside from the occasional disgruntled mumble, as he let himself half-fall onto the couch - only to end up sliding the rest of the way down to the floor and stretching out on his back.

Lucifer leaned himself back, propping his elbows up on the counter beside him and arching an eyebrow toward his older brother with a chuckle. "Dear brother, you are absolutely intoxicated."

Michael mumbled something else, something Lucifer didn't catch. He did raise his head after a moment, though, shifting a little to roll onto his stomach, but he groaned even as he moved. "M'sorry," he muttered again, and Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows faintly in response, heaving himself up to his feet after a few seconds to walk over to where his brother was with a sigh.

"Don't be, the plan was to get you intoxicated."

"Not that." Michael waved a hand dismissively and let his head fall again, pressing his cheek against the floor and curling up a little. Lucifer crouched down in front of him silently, arching an eyebrow and twisting his mouth sharply as he studied his older brother. "Not that at all…" Michael sighed, a long, heavy sound filled with agony and despair, and Lucifer tilted his head faintly at his brother as the archangel slowly began to push himself back up onto the couch. "Sorry. Sorry, m'dizzy. I-" His brother hiccuped again. "I- I just- I just need a minute. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Lucifer sighed, taking him by the arm and pulling him away from the couch, just as the archangel was about to sit down. Michael whined a little, but he didn't try to pull away, stumbling half-blindly after Lucifer as the angel pulled him to where his old room was. He had left everything mostly the same, so his bed was still intact; he figured, perhaps, he should lay dear old Mikey down for a bit of a nap so he could sleep the alcohol and apologies off.

If this is it, then I feel hopeless…

Michael let him lead him into the room, but he did pause when Lucifer stopped beside the bed, looking down at it for a few moments. Then, with a quiet sigh, he sank sideways against Lucifer - which honestly startled the angel for a second - and turned to press his face into his shoulder. Lucifer just stood there, still somewhat shocked, not even able to put his arm around his brother. But Michael didn't seem to have any trouble clinging to him himself, and Lucifer let him stay like that for a few more seconds before finally managing to lift his hands to gently push him away; the archangel groaned and sighed and pouted, but in the end, he allowed Lucifer to nudge him to the bed, falling forward and rolling over onto his back with another long, slow, heavy sigh.

"Now, then." Lucifer looked down at his brother, eyes narrowing faintly; Michael didn't say anything, crossing both of his arms over his face, while - after heaving out a sigh of his own - Lucifer eventually bent down to pull the blanket out from underneath his brother, who had begun mumbling under his breath again. Little things, things Lucifer still couldn't catch, even though he was closer to his brother now; he even wondered, for a moment, whether he was really saying anything, but he dismissed the sentiment after a moment, shaking his head as he draped the blanket over his older brother. "It's time for all good little angels to get their sleep, so-"

Michael mumbled something else then, something that sounded like, "well, shit." And Lucifer paused, glancing down at him again, as Michael finally removed his arms from his face to continue - with a somewhat bitter expression, mind you - "I guess I'm not sleeping, then."

It didn't take long for Lucifer to understand.

The angel softened somewhat, looking down at his distressed brother. Michael, once again, had that pinched expression on his face, but the scowl was less angry now, and more of a pout. But, now that he understood exactly what was bothering Michael now, maybe he would actually be of some assistance - rather than just sitting there and letting his brother drink himself into oblivion. "Well, if I didn't sleep every time I hated myself, I wouldn't sleep at all," he muttered under his breath, sighing softly to himself and walking forward to sit down on the side of the bed. Michael turned and curled up slightly, facing him now, but refusing to meet his gaze at the same time. "Perhaps I should have asked you what was bothering you from the start, before you got drunk."

"That's okay," Michael muttered, burying the side of his face into the pillow with a sigh. He shifted, gripping the edges of the blanket to pull it a little closer to his chin, wrapping it around himself as much as possible; Lucifer shifted a little to let him, only relaxing again when Michael fell still, finally seeming comfortable once again. "I needed to get drunk anyway. It helped."

"Temporary fix," Lucifer replied gently, "to what, right now, feels like a permanent problem." Michael only responded with a half-hearted shrug, and Lucifer sighed, tilting his head a little and staring down at the archangel with a frown. "Brother, how long have you been feeling like this?"

And I wish I could help…

Michael's laughter stung, honestly; Lucifer ached, to his very core, the second the sound left his brother's lips. "I dunno," the archangel chuckled, almost giggling, and Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows silently as he looked down at his brother, tilting his head a little more with a frown. "Forever?" Michael sighed again, just as heavy as before. The smile on his face vanished after a moment, his tired laughter dying down, and his lips pursed into that familiar pout once again. "I mean, s'getting worse now. I dunno why. I'm just-" Another pause, but it was a little longer now; his brother's expression shifted, twisting and forming a somewhat contemplative expression. Lucifer crossed his legs and leaned himself back a little, using his hand to prop himself up on the bed, and arched an eyebrow at Michael while the archangel rapidly rearranged his thoughts. "I'm sorry," Michael finally declared. "I'm sorry all the time. And it's just getting worse."

"I see," Lucifer murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. He wished he knew what to say, what to do, how to speak to his brother when he was like this. But he was hardly a therapist; maybe he did understand where Michael was coming from, but that alone just made it harder for him to talk to his older brother. It didn't feel right, scrambling to figure out what to say that would make him feel better, when he knew exactly how he was feeling and he knew that it would take time to work through. Lucifer wouldn't be able to fix it with all the reassurance in the world, and his brother wouldn't believe him anyway. Lucifer knew. Lucifer had been in this position before. "Perhaps it's time to consider therapy," he suggested, and Michael glanced up at him again.

"I talked to Ella about that," his brother mumbled. "A while ago. She said I should…"

Lucifer nodded, and, after a moment, he reached out to clasp a hand over Michael's shoulder, offering a light squeeze before pulling away again. "Well, we'll talk about this more when you're a bit less… trashed, won't we?" He smiled down at his brother, curling his lips back to display his teeth, and Michael managed a somewhat half-hearted grin in response before turning his head to bury his face into the pillow again with a quiet, tired nod in response. "Get some rest." Lucifer pushed himself up, glancing back down at his brother, who only offered another nod; the angel sighed, furrowing his eyebrows, and stayed silent for only a few more seconds before speaking again, somewhat hesitantly, "and for whatever it's worth, I do forgive you, Michael."

Michael didn't say anything, but he blinked his eyes open and glanced up at him again, eyebrows furrowing faintly in response. Lucifer chose that moment to turn and walk away from him then, before Michael had the chance to get all sentimental on him. This was already treading dangerous territory, and while he certainly did intend to try and talk to him later (mostly about the therapy thing, but he already knew the conversation would veer way off track anyway) he certainly didn't want to talk to him about this while he was was drunk and vulnerable as he was. For one, it just didn't feel right, taking advantage of his brother currently being intoxicated - but aside from that, he just wanted to make sure the discussion stayed… well, serious.

Sighing, the angel retreated back to the bar and picked his glass up again, looking down at the drink for a long moment before lifting it up to his lips for another slow, cautious sip of the alcohol.

But it's hard when I hate myself…