Chapter Text
Connor’s gaze flicked back and forth between the dancing flames in the fireplace and Raphael, who stared at the fire with a distant look on his face. It seemed that the angel wasn’t actually looking at the fire, rather his eyes were fixed on some invisible spot in the air between him and it.
“Raphael?”
Raphael’s head jerked as he suddenly whipped around in his chair toward the doorway of the room where Connor’s mother stood, her head peeking around the corner. “Yes, ma’am?” He blinked rapidly as if he was trying to wake from a deep slumber.
“Sorry for startling you, dear. I forgot to mention it earlier, but are you allergic to anything?” Mrs. Bishara asked.
Raphael shook his head. “No, ma’am, I’m not.”
Mrs. Bishara nodded with a small smile, then disappeared from the doorway. Raphael turned back toward the fireplace the moment she left and resumed his blank staring.
A glance around the room showed Connor that he wasn’t the only one who was watching Raphael. Aphrodite and Hephaestus, while talking to each other quietly about something Connor couldn’t make out, kept glancing at the angel by the fireplace. Clara, who sat on the floor next to the loveseat occupied by her godly companion and his wife, also had her eyes on Raphael. All of them knew what he had just gone through in just a short span of time. Michael’s death, secrets and lies, Lucifer’s tentative allyship, feelings for Connor, the discovery of Set’s crimes, the fighting… There was so much to process that it made everyone’s heads spin as they tried to sort through everything they knew and felt, though none of them were as shaken as Raphael. Even Connor, who had not only been plunged into a world of gods, goddesses, a heavenly war, angels, and blossoming feelings for one of those angels, couldn’t compare to Raphael’s turmoil. The angel kept his simmering emotions to himself, careful not to let Connor feel it through their bond, but there were moments when Raphael zoned out just enough that Connor could take a peek unnoticed. After just a single glance, Connor knew it would be too much for him to handle if the floodgates were to open all at once.
For three minutes, Connor stared. He stared directly at Raphael, hardly ever blinking, with every ounce of intent he could summon. However, Raphael never noticed. He said nothing. He didn’t tear his gaze away from the imaginary point it was fixed on for a single second. At any other time, Raphael would have felt Connor’s gaze on him. He would have felt everyone’s gazes on him. He would have turned toward them. He would have asked why they were staring at him. He didn’t, though. He took no notice. He only ever responded when someone called his name loud enough for him to hear over his thoughts. It was almost like the moments following Michael’s death when Raphael had lost control. When he had glowed with bright blue power and nearly killed everyone, ally and enemy alike, as his power strangled them all. He’d been nearly impossible to reach then, just as he was now.
Eventually, Connor couldn’t take the silence anymore. He didn’t want to push Raphael if he wasn’t ready to talk about everything that had happened, but he needed him to at least say something. Even if their conversation was trivial, as long as it served as enough of a distraction to prevent Raphael from continuing to be so distant, that was enough.
Connor stood abruptly. He crossed the small gap between his chair and Raphael’s, though the angel took no notice of him until Connor’s hand touched his shoulder.
“Raphael.”
The angel glanced up at Connor with an unreadable, slightly dazed expression.
“Come with me for a few minutes.” Connor tugged lightly on Raphael’s arm to get the angel to stand and follow him out of the room. He figured it would be better if they went somewhere private to talk, as perhaps Raphael would be willing to be more open if he had an audience of one rather than four.
“Wait!”
The two paused in the doorway and looked back at Clara, who stared at them with wide eyes. For a moment, Connor felt unease rise in his chest. He was worried that something was wrong with his sister until her gaze moved above Connor and Raphael and fixed on a point above their heads. Connor looked up in confusion, then felt his face catch fire when he saw what Clara was staring at.
“Are you fu-“ Connor began, though he cut himself off before the curse word could slip past his lips. His mother could hear a curse from a lightyear away, and he had no intention of letting the heavenly beings he had fought alongside in a heavenly war against a corrupt god watch him, a grown man and former SEAL, get torn a new one by his mother for saying a curse word in his Nan’s house.
For the first time since their arrival, Raphael spoke without being prompted. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking back and forth between Connor and the mistletoe hanging over the doorway.
Connor blinked. “It’s the mi— Wait.” He paused as a realization struck him. “Do… Do you know what that is?”
Raphael’s head tilted in confusion. “I recognize it, yes. I see it is supposed to resemble mistletoe, and it does, though it is clearly a plastic imitation. Is that significant?”
Connor wanted to smack his forehead against the wall until it bled. How was he supposed to explain this Raphael? ‘Hey, so humans have this dumb tradition where, if you get caught under the mistletoe with someone, you have to kiss them. So now we have to kiss each other in front of my sister and two Greek deities and hope my parents don’t see it because they’re still having trouble with the fact that their only son is gay.’ There was no way in hell he could say that out loud. Any of it.
When Connor finally opened his mouth to try to explain, he was surprised by Raphael’s hand touching his forehead.
“Are you ill, Connor? Your face is warm…and alarmingly flushed.”
Clara burst out laughing, and Connor buried his face in his hands. He could feel his ears burning now, and he knew there was no way he could trust his voice to say anything.
“You… You gotta—” Clara choked out at she tried to overcome her laughter enough to speak. She took a deep breath, then another, before trying again. “It’s a tradition, Raphael. A very important tradition. If two people get caught under a mistletoe together, whether it’s fake or real, you have to, you know—” She barely managed to pucker her lips in an attempt to get the message across before she was overtaken by laughter again due to a harsh glare from a very red-faced Connor.
Raphael’s eyes went wide. “Wh—oh.” He looked at Connor, who had buried his face in his hands once again. “I see, but…” Raphael gently touched Connor’s shoulders and ducked his head to speak to him. “If you aren’t comfortable, I’m sure we could make an exception in this scenario. That is, if your sister is being truthful about the existence of this tradition.”
“She is,” Connor confirmed with a sigh. He finally pulled his face out of his hands, though he still couldn’t bring himself to meet Raphael’s eyes. “I don’t care either way, but we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” That was…kind of true. Kissing Raphael wasn’t the problem, besides the way the thought made Connor’s face burn even hotter. He was worried more about what his parents would think if they walked in on him kissing a man they’d only just met in the middle of his Nan’s house.
“Oh.” Raphael blinked. “Well, I am…not opposed,” he said slowly.
Connor nodded, still unable to look at Raphael directly. However, he made the mistake of glancing at Clara instead, and caught the knowing smirk on her face. Raphael was okay with it, so there was no way Clara was letting Connor walk away.
With a sigh, Connor relented. He was a former SEAL. If he could handle that, he could handle kissing a very attractive man who he had already kissed before. A very attractive man who he had fallen head over heels for, and who felt the same for him.
In the blink of an eye Connor grabbed Raphael by the front of his shirt, yanked his face down to his level, pressed their lips together, then pulled away.
“Bye!” Connor called over his shoulder as he grabbed a stunned Raphael by the wrist and pulled him out of the room toward the door to the porch without bothering to listen to whatever Clara, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite were shouting after them.
It was cold when Connor and Raphael stepped outside, but Raphael was unbothered by the temperature, and Connor’s skin still burned so hot that he didn’t feel the chill.
“Connor, is something wrong?” Raphael asked. There was something uncertain in his tone that interrupted Connor’s brain as it replayed the moment under the mistletoe on loop, handing his full attention to Raphael.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Connor scratched the back of his neck, unsure of how to continue. “I just… I was worried about you in there. Ever since… Ever since Michael, you’ve been, off, I guess,” he explained hesitantly, stepping toward Raphael and finally looking the angel in the eye. “I know he was your brother, and I know you have a lot to process, but the way you keep staring off into space… I just want to make sure you’re okay. Or, I don’t know, as okay as you can be, given the situation.” Connor cringed at his own words. There had to been a better way to express what he wanted to say, though he wasn’t a man known for his way with words.
Raphael frowned. “I’m sorry for concerning you,” he said softly, sending a frigid wave of guilt through Connor’s veins.
“Wait, I—Don’t apologize, Raphael. You have every right to be upset right now. Just…remember I’m here, okay? So is Clara, and Aphrodite and Hephaestus,” Connor reminded. He glanced down as his fingers brushed Raphael’s, then watched as Raphael gently wove their fingers together.
“Thank you, Connor.” Raphael had a small smile on his face when Connor looked up to meet his eyes, and it made the human’s heart flood with warmth.
Before Connor could reply, his mother’s shout interrupted him.
“Connor! Come inside and help your sister set the table!”
Raphael’s smile split into an amused grin. “We should go in. Your mother seems like someone we shouldn’t keep waiting.”
Connor snorted. “Not if you feel like living to see another day,” he agreed. He started toward the door with Raphael on his heels, their hands still clasped together until they reached the door. After giving Raphael’s hand a gentle squeeze, Connor let go, and Raphael let his hand fall to his side. The two entered the house, and Connor sent Raphael a silent promise through their bond.
“We’ll talk more tonight.”