Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shoot! Missed again.

Michael grunts, watching the purple dragon fall, dejected, back into the heap of other crudely designed stuffed animals. He was so close that time! Why did humans have to design the claws on these things to have only three pieces of metal? How was anyone supposed to have a realistic chance at snagging these things? Especially kids. The person who designed carnival games must have been a demon, or some diabolical entity that snuck through one of the now closed portals into the mortal realm, centuries ago. Like vampires, or Big Foot, or Mel Gibson.

He supposes he could always alter the design, give himself an advantage, but then it wouldn’t be authentic. It was the same as taking Janet up on her offer of playing a guitar that guided his fingers to know how to perform like a rockstar – it just lacked the whole point of experiencing human things the proper, stupid way. Also, most important, Eleanor would know if he cheated. She can always tell. It’s so brilli- No! Annoying, that’s the word!

At what point did he lose his touch? His very first attempt, he managed to get her to fall for his lies for months. Shirt, one attempt lasted over a year before she saw through his whole angel act! It wasn’t just the fact that in this reboot – The One Where Michael Hits Rock Bottom, as he called it in his head – he’d been open about what he was with the humans in order to join their side. Even before this one, Eleanor always seemed to catch on to something being amiss almost right out of his waiting room. Had he become too transparent over the centuries? Had the acting made him too jaded to put the same amount of effort in as he once did?

Sure, he still told the odd lie, here and there. Just because he had to be upfront about himself and the neighbourhood to join the ridiculous ‘team cockroach’ doesn’t mean he had to be truthful about everything. And sometimes lies were okay, right? Even ‘good’? Like that time Tahani asked for the group’s opinion on her gown for the evening, and Michael had honestly assumed it was right that she knew it didn’t make her look slimmer than it had when her sister wore it, which was clearly why she had picked it. But no, apparently that was ‘mean’ and he should have lied and said the exact opposite, just so she wouldn’t cry – according to Eleanor. So, the next time Tahani had dared to ask for his opinion on how she looked, he did not disclose any hurtful truths. Instead, he lied, said she looked ten times more lovely than Kamilah, and the British socialite had hugged him for it?!

Humans were so forking confusing. Fascinat…Again! Damn it, annoying! Ridiculous!

He summons another quarter into being, popping it in the coin slot to charge the machine back up. Letting his ochre bow-tie hang loose around his open collar, he’ll take his frustration out on fiercely grabbing the heads of stuffed animals before claiming them for his possession. NOT to give any to his ‘teammates’. They can catch their own damn toy dragons or yellow toddlers.

The doors of the arcade open behind him, just as he manages to get a grip on an orange wing.

“Dude!” Eleanor’s voice echoes through the vast room, empty except for the two of them, as usual. His colleagues had no reason to be here unless it was to do with some planned torture routine that required a few extras.

“Hold on, I almost got this!” He doesn’t dare tear his eyes away, not when he’s able to lift the thing into the air; “Nearly there…Nearly there…C’mon, come to Papa!”

He directs the claw over to the chute.

The machine powers down, playful music going silent, lights off. The dragon falls back into the pile.

“NO!” He bemoans, slapping the glass; “How did that-?! I was so close, I…”

He looks over towards Eleanor, standing next to the wall. The unplugged power chord dangles from her hand as she looks at him, deadpan.

Michael’s jaw drops; “What the fork, Eleanor?! I’ve just spent the last two hours trying to win something from this thing and that was my best chance!”

“Two hours? Really?” She frowns.

He clenches his jaw.

“Fine, two and a half.” Michael mutters, giving it a kick; “I know I’m still learning about all these rules you humans have but I’m pretty sure what you just did was, and I quote many wise masters when I say, ‘not cool, bro’.”

“Well, you know what else isn’t cool? You getting your ash kicked out of class for the third time this month.” Eleanor states, crossing her arms.

Michael blinks; “Uhm…I’m pretty sure being kicked out class is considered ‘cool’ by most high school teenagers.”

“That’s not the point.” Eleanor waves off, clearly knowing he’s right there but not admitting it. “You promised me, the last time, that you were gonna honor your part of our agreement!”

He scoffs, leaning against the darkened machine.

“As I recall, ‘my part’ of our agreement was informing you all about your upcoming tortures as well as getting you into the Good Place. The first of which I’ve held up on, every single day without fail, and I will do the same with the latter.” As soon as he figures out a way in, of course, he won’t admit to not having quite made his way over that hurdle.

He was getting there though, that he was sure. Rooting around in Janet’s void all night eventually brought him to finding blueprints for some kind of balloon; that seems to be the way in. The road, or rather airway, itself? That part he’s not so sure on. But at least he’s halfway there, right?

“Maybe you will.” Eleanor shrugs; “Or maybe you’re just bullshirting me for the eight hundredth time and you plan on ditching us as soon as your own ash is saved.”

“Hey!” Michael wags his finger in her doubting face; “I would never do that!”

He lowers it when he finds he’s a bit too close to touching her nose.

He steps away; “There’s no way those angel losers would let me in without you all there with me.” He mumbles, scratching at his elbow. “And anyway, I have not ‘bullshirt’ you, as you put it, since we came to our agreement.”

Aside from the whole trolley problem thing, but that was mostly aimed at Chidi for being so smug about ‘knowing more about ethics than him’. Eleanor just happened to be along for the ride…and she seemed to enjoy some of the blood splatter. There was also his whole existential crisis which he may have exaggerated a little, just because both Eleanor and Chidi had to rub salt into his already spiralling horror at the thought of being retired for his failure – something he’s been grappling with for three hundred years, not just because one egghead told him to ‘think about it’ for the very first time.

But since then, or at least since Eleanor talked sense into him to let him step up and be the superior being he’s supposed to be, he hasn’t lied to her. He hasn’t even so much as thoughtlessly tried to torture her out of sheer habit.

If anything, she was the one human whose company wasn’t constantly irritating. The others he could handle in small doses, a few hours of classes a day most, but he had no desire to spend any quality time with them outside of lectures and torture briefings. Unless his anxiety was at the point where sharing a joint with Jason might prove beneficial. As for Tahani, his faked friendly tea-chats with her in previous reboots had always been to drop passive aggressive insults and play upon her desire for approval…something which he knew now would not be considered acceptable team player behaviour. Unlike Jason and Chidi who could aggravate him, Tahani had nothing he really disliked about her…more so that he reminded her too much of how it felt to constantly desire his boss to be proud of him, even at the cost of his own ‘soul’, for lack of a better word.

But Eleanor was different. Eleanor just got him, as Vicky would say whenever she found a role she connected with. That’s a little what it was like to be around Eleanor. With the others he always had to put on some kind of role he didn’t feel comfortable in; an angel who respected Buddhist teachings, a fellow goody-two shoes who would LOVE to read a humungous, rambling manuscript by a blathering professor, a kindly upper-class father figure. Bleh, bleh, bleh. With Eleanor, when he hadn’t been playing the role of paranoid boss, when he’d just been playing the role of her human-loving ‘buddy’ that needed to be taught what fun meant…That felt right. Like a perfectly done bow-tie that didn’t feel like it was constricting his neck.

And it no longer had to be a role he performed. He could just be. They could hang out together, have fun after the stupid, boring classes, they could make jokes about the others, they could stay up late getting drunk and watching movies, he could talk to her about real stuff he’d never told anyone because no one ever understood him like she did. And likewise, he never wanted to listen to a human talk for hours as she did, even if it was about something sappy and pathetic like her crush on Chidi. This weird connection they shared, offloading their bullshirt onto each other, laughing both at and with each other about it all, was like no bond he’d had with any demon or human, fork, not even his pet spider-dog.

Why would he jeopardize that by intentionally screwing with her again?

“Then why did you break your promise, man?” She asks him, lowering her tone. There’s an undercurrent of hurt in her voice that niggles at him.

He has to look away, unnerved by the ugly grey ripples thumping out around her into the air as she looks at him. This isn’t just her being pissed off about a broken deal or a caught out lie. If it were, she’d be smirking, just like every time she saw through him before. This is different. The hurt is personal.

“I told you, I didn’t.” He nearly sneers, stomping over to the Whack-A-Mole. He doesn’t try turning it on, he merely takes the big plastic hammer out of the stall and pointlessly bops the empty holes; “I didn’t plan on leaving the class…It just happened.”

“Kicking students out isn’t usually part of Chidi’s lesson plan. Trust me, I have to listen to him read it aloud every evening. Ten times. I’d make him do it in his own room, but honestly, it’s a killer sleeping aid.”

Michael tries not to snigger at that. Surely, she doesn’t want to make him laugh, not now. Not when she’s mad at him.

“What’s the point of asking me what happened? I take it ‘lover boy’ already squealed on me and gave you all the details.”

“He’s not my ‘lover boy’. Well, not outside of Mindy’s tape, probably not ever again.” She shifts, awkwardly, sending a spicy whiff into her aura. That’s what human ‘blushing’ typically smelled like; “And I don’t wanna talk about that right now so don’t bring it up.”

Happy to oblige there.

“And all he told me was that you got mad at him for giving you an F on the last assignment and, after you gave his chalkboard giant teeth and made it chase him around the room, you stormed out and slammed the door.” She explained, taking a seat on one of the round, 50s diner style stools. Of course, she picks the one he chose to throw his jacket over.

“Well, there you go, that’s all there was to it.” Michael shrugs, popping the machine again; “Oh and, in case he forgot to mention, I did snap my fingers to turn his precious chalkboard back to normal once I was out the room!”

“Yeah, I worked out that much, when I saw it was normal by the time I came back. It’s not like he could have asked Janet to turn it back; she’s gotta stay at Vicky’s side all day for Tahani’s torture.”

A whole day of Tahani having to suffer a garden party at Vicky’s slightly larger mansion and far more exotic outdoors to make her beloved rose bushes and hedge-maze look like a pile of burnt leaves in comparison. Poor woman must be close to pulling her amazingly silky hair out by now. Michael puts the hammer back in the slot. Maybe he’ll drop by her house tomorrow with a plant as a gift; humans liked stealing bits of earth and putting it in dirty pots as presents, or at least humans like Tahani did. His would be special though; a flower from some gorgeous, far-off planet she wouldn’t have seen before…

Or maybe he’ll just give her another diamond, it would make her just as happy.

“I take it Chidi’s still mad at me.” Not that he gives a crab.

“No. I think he’s just exhausted. He was falling asleep on the sofa, whispering sweet nothings to his bookmarks.” She says it in that gentle, admiring tone, as if that was somehow endearing; “Chidi’s a forgiving dude, but even he has his limits, bud. If you keep pushing him like this then, eventually, he’s gonna refuse to let you back in his class for good.”

Michael gasps, theatrically, palms flying up to his cheeks.

“Oh no! How awful! How ever will I cope without having to listen to him drone on about boring ash philosophy and do homework in my free time?! And I thought demons were the real monsters!!”

“Ok, don’t be a bench.” Eleanor rolls her eyes.

“Look, I never wanted to take those dumb classes, it was your idea! And the first time he kicked me out, it wasn’t me who wanted to go back, you talked me into it – so, really, this is all your fault!”

“Uh-huh.” She clicks her tongue.

Good, she’s not taking this seriously anymore than he is.

“What did I say from the start? The idea of a creature like me, an immortal being forged in the fires of Hell, learning about human ethics and expecting to…’grow’ and ‘learn to be kind’ and all that garbage, was absolute nonsense!” He cringes, beginning to pace between the games; “I wanted to use that time doing something beneficial for all of us, like helping us get to the real Good Place, but no, you said that was my ‘after school’ job, as if trying to make me into a better person was a bigger priority than, oh I dunno, making sure we all avoid eternal torment!”

Eleanor doesn’t look the least bit regretful of her decision. She continues sitting, legs crossed, arms folded, looking at him with that same bored, disappointed expression as she tilts her head.

“Hold up…was all of this just because Chidi gave you a forking F on your paper?” She asks.

He scoffs at the audacity. Just an F?! Does she not understand? Damn it, she’s supposed to be the only one who does!

“Well…Duh, obviously not, I didn’t ask to be expelled-.”

“He didn’t expel you, he told you to quit it with the chalkboard and you left.” She corrects; “I mean did you pick a fight because you got an F?”

Ugh. He’s not even going to dignify that with an answer, he thinks, turning on his heel.

“I don’t get it…You’ve failed most of your essays up until now. I thought you were trying to beat mine and Jason’s record.” Eleanor frowns at him; “What got you so worked up about this one?”

“Because I tried!”

He turns back to her, realising too late how loud he raised his voice, watching her reel back a little in surprise.

Michael clenches his jaw, feeling the burn of shame in his cheeks. He looks away from her.

“….That last sleepover we had? The one where we just agreed to chill out and not think about studying? After you fell asleep during Saw XII, I took out your copy of What We Owe To Each Other from your purse…which you should really clean out by the way, there’s mould in there, I’m not sure from what,” He clears his throat; “I took a look at some of the parts you’d highlighted to see if I missed any and…I stayed up the rest of the night just looking over both of our notes and redrafting my essay.”

He runs his fingers, hating how greasy it feels from the stress. Why did his body have to react so naturally with all its gross leaking and smelling?

“At first I was just gonna try to copy what you wrote with my own twist, like when kids copy and paste from Wikipedia before editing it to sound idiotic,” He confesses; “But then, the more I read, I started to think…’hey, I kind of understand that’. And maybe I can write it in a way I don’t even think you’d have thought of, what with your squishy brain being so much smaller than mine.”

“Buddy.” Eleanor warns.

“Sorry, habit,” He sighs; “Anyway…I wanted to try. I did. Because I thought…” his voice cracks and he knows he’s close to blushing again; “…I hoped that I…had a chance…” He swallows, grabbing the plastic hammer again and whacking it hard into the hole; “And I was wrong! You were wrong! We were both wrong.”

“You know I got a B minus on that paper, right?”

Oh, way to kick a demon when he’s down while missing the point.

“I meant about me, dummy!” He tells her, heatedly; “It was ludicrous to think that I would ever be able to understand how to be a good human when they’re the two things that I can never be! Even when I actually try really hard, when I make an actual effort to understand what these ethics dorks are talking about, I still fail! What does that tell you? That I’m beyond ‘fixing’, right? Even Chidi would tell you that.”

Eleanor pauses, letting him simmer down from his outburst before continuing, carefully.

“Did Chidi say that?” she asks.

“No…He didn’t have to.” Michael mumbles, looking down at the varnished floor; “Anyway, now you know the full story and why I won’t be taking the classes anymore.”

“So, you’re just gonna quit?”

“Yep.” He shrugs, turning to the race car simulator; “You wanna stay here and have fun or you wanna go home to your nerd love…sorry, ex-boyfriend, whatever? Or just go to Vicky and tell her I turned traitor, if you really wanna stick to the deal, I don’t give a crab anymore. It’s your own souls you’re damning, mine’s already beyond saving.”

Eleanor groans, jumping off the stool; “Okay, dial it back, Evanescence. You realise this is Classic Shellstrop move 28, right? Giving up by reasoning trash can never stop being trash, and if anyone is disappointed, it’s on them?”

“Oh, please…”

“No, c’mon, remember that time there was that fundraiser at my office, and we all were supposed to run 5k for some kid who needed an extra heart monitor or some shirt. I actually tried to go to the gym but after my second cramp, I just told Carla she shouldn’t expect an Arizona girl to be in shape, due to all the cheese whizz in our veins.” She explains; “Even now I know if I’d pushed myself just a little harder, I’d have at least managed to power walk my way around that track. But that was too much hard work, so it was easier to just say ‘can’t do it, me outtie’.”

“Are you calling me lazy?” Michael looks down at her.

“No…yeah, maybe a little. I mean I’ve seen you get out of breath pretty quick from sprinting but,” she waves her hands; “That’s a separate issue, and I don’t really care, though sidenote I don’t think a few squats in the morning would hurt, but anyway!”

Resist the urge to turn her into a doll and trap her inside the claw machine, Mikey.

“Just because you try hard at something doesn’t mean it’s gonna work out well. That’s just…how it is.” She tells him, fairly; “You should already know that, look how hard you’ve been ‘trying’ at these attempts to torture us for centuries and every one was a miserable failure!”

Scratch that, not a doll, she can be one of those prizes no one ever wants, like a novelty keychain or a plastic monocle.

“But then you got to this one and…okay, jury is still out on where it’s heading, and it might not be what you originally set out to do all those years ago, but there’s a chance it might be what gets you to somewhere you want.” Eleanor tries to encourage, moving closer to him; “You don’t think I failed a bunch of essays before I started making any progress in Chidi’s classes? C’mon, I bet there’s even been reboots where I just threw the towel in and needed Chidi to talk me into coming back.”

“Nope.”

Eleanor stares at him; “…Really? Not even once?”

“No. Sometimes you’d get annoyed with him or he’d get mad at you for something, and you’d take some time apart, but you always ended up doing the right thing and coming back on your own. Chidi never had to beg you or talk you into it.” He tells her, intrigued by the shock on her face.

“Oh…”

Is that all she can say?

Michael groans, “Jeez, that’s what annoys me about this whole crush you have on that guy. You think all your progress is down to him; you don’t ever give yourself any credit for how resilient you are. For all your talk about classic Shellstrop Moves, not once did you ever just…’give up’. Sometimes you would go to Mindy’s or even give yourself up to the Bad Place…but you never really stopped believing you could become better…You always knew you were capable of being more…”

He feels her eyes keeping a bead on him as he circles his way back to the claw machine.

“And you don’t think you are?” She asks, quietly.

There’s a twitch in his lips as he avoids her gaze; “I’m not you, Eleanor. No matter how similar you seem to think we are, we both know there’s one advantage you’ll always have over me.”

“The ability to hit a note? Being able to pull off looking hot in leather? An ash that won’t quit?”

“Okay, fine, you have a few advantages,” He mutters, in order to get her to shut up.

She perks her chin up; “Oh, even the ash thing?”

“I’m talking about being human!” He snaps before she can change the subject; “You don’t think I’ve figured out, after all this time, humans are capable of learning from their mistakes and becoming better people?! That everything we were fed about you guys being irredeemable and deserving of punishment was a stinking heap of unicorn manure?!”

It’s the first time that he’s ever admitted it, out loud. He was wrong. Shawn was wrong. The whole forking system that he’d followed blindly for as long as he could remember was wrong.

Which meant every single act of torture he’d committed was…

“Michael…” Eleanor lowers her tone; “You not being human doesn’t mean you’re incapable of change. Look at Janet, is she human? How far advanced has she gotten since the first time you booted her up? No, seriously, because she keeps talking about it but none of us have any idea what she was like to start off with – what was she, a sexy Siri hologram?”

“Janet doesn’t count. She’s from the Good Place, remember?” He retorts; “If she was a Bad Janet who became good, that would be something else, but our Janet was always designed to be kind and helpful! She’s only become more self-aware and less naïve, but she was always…sweet. Right from the start…”

When he’d first booted her up, he’d been convinced that her pleasant attitude and positivity would be annoying as shirt, but it had been surprisingly contagious. And her support for him when he’d found himself all alone, creating this new project all on his own, having her to share ideas with and offer her own Heaven-sent opinions had been invaluable.

How could he ever have thought she would be complicit in helping him be in charge of something so diabolical when the truth came to light?

“I hurt her,” he lets out, bitterly; “Every time I rebooted you guys, I had to shut her down, and every time she would beg and cry and plead for me to stop. I know it was just the automatic failsafe, but I could see in her eyes, she didn’t want to forget you guys. She didn’t wanna forget…” he stops himself from mentioning Jason, just in case that’s a detail his omniscient friend hasn’t chosen to share with the others. Especially not with Jason and Tahani currently going at it in ‘secret’. “Eight hundred and two times, she begged me to stop, and I pressed that button. Each time she came back online, she got smarter and grew more aware, while I…stayed the same. What does that tell you, Eleanor?”

He waits for a witty comeback. For once, she doesn’t seem to have one, her eyes merely continue to study him.

“In fact, why are you here? If you had any actual memory of some of the things I did to you over the past three hundred years, I highly doubt you’d be so eager to go bowling with me or hang out at the beach! I hurt all of you over and over and over again – and I found it hilarious! Until you spoiled the fun by figuring it out!” He sneers at her, knowing deep down that the sour taste in his mouth isn’t her doing; “The only reason I’m not still making you all miserable is because I was put in no other position but to team up with you all, not because I realised it was ‘wrong’ or I ‘had a change of heart’ or any of that crab the heroes go through in that book Chidi gave me. I’m not Jean Valjean. I’m not Scrooge. I’m not even the damn Grinch! I’m not meant to learn any of this ‘how to be good’ nonsense! You know what I am, I know what I am…so why the fork do you keep expecting me to change?!” He approaches her, heat rising beneath his collar; “Tell me, Eleanor! Tell me you honestly think I can be anything better than THIS?!”

Despite his towering presence, she remains unmoved, arms still folded. She doesn’t tilt her head to look up at him, merely raises her eyes up, her expression oddly stoic. Surely, she can see how close he is to snapping a fuse right now. And yet, she doesn’t so much as flinch.

She takes a short breath; “I do.” The answer comes without a single blink.

Michael clenches his jaw, that uncomfortable twinge panging away in his chest.

“Why?” He wants…needs to know.

All she can do is shrug; “I just do. I dunno if I have a reason, or if there is one, I’m not sure how to explain it. I guess it’s like what Chidi was teaching us the other day about that…Kramer guy, the boring preachy one…about taking a leap of faith, or whatever. It might not be logical or make any sense, it’s just…trusting your gut when something feels right.”

“Then you’re even dumber than I thought.” Michael mocks, dissatisfied all the more with her answer; “Faith is nothing but an excuse humans give for believing in something without good evidence. Look at all those religious suckers on Earth who put their faith in what they thought would happen after they die – you know as well as anyone what it gets them when they finally arrive here!”

“True…But like you told me at the start, all of those ‘religious suckers’ got at least a little bit right.” Eleanor unfolds her arms and gets off her stool, moving one of her hands to pull at his undone bow-tie; “Maybe there’s a five percent chance I’m right about you?”

That almost forces him to laugh, stepping back from her, avoiding such close contact. Too close. Is there at least five percent goodness somewhere in him? Is that what she’s betting her soul on? The safety of her friends as well?

“You didn’t answer my first question. Why are you here?” He asks again, quieter; “Why is it always you that comes to find me? What am I; some after school project of yours? The class hamster? Do you win extra points with the Professor by showing how well you can teach a demon to be good?” Michael looks back at her, stepping back towards her in a vulture-like motion, “Or is this some kinda Shellstrop power move? It wouldn’t be the first time you attempted to ‘tame’ the ruler of your own personal Hell to bow to your will!”

As soon as she starts to smirk, he regrets revealing that; “Seriously? And it didn’t work?”

Fork. Clearly, it didn’t work! They wouldn’t have still been here if he had taken the decision to agree to her little indecent proposal, all those decades ago. And he’s hardly going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that it was a choice he’d reconsidered many times…

Clearly, it didn’t work!

“Dude, maybe I came here just to hang out!” She holds up her hands, innocent as Eleanor Shellstrop could manage to appear; “I’ve just spent the afternoon having to clean every bathroom in town after forking ‘curry night’ for my daily torture – thanks for the invisible gas mask by the way, made it a little less painful – so you’re not the only one wanting to just blow off steam. I didn’t come here to drag you back to class or force you to apologise, that’s gotta be for you to figure out, just like you did last time, remember? I’m not your mom. I’m your…”

He meets her eyes again.

“What? Friend?”

The memory of her calling him that for the first time, so long ago, buzzes around his ears. He’d known there and then just how impossible, how unthinkable, such a concept was. Had he honestly begun to forget in the past few weeks? Had he been dumb and soft enough to hope…?

“If you really wanna be friends with me, then you’re definitely an idiot.” He scalds, feeling a pinch in his throat, “You wanna be friends with the monster that’s the reason you guy you said ‘I love you’ to no longer remembers you? You wanna be friends with the demon who did nothing but lie to you for three centuries and whose soul goal was breaking your spirit? You still wanna be friends even though I keep forking up, even when I actually try to make an effort to be better, but it makes no difference?! What is wrong with you?!”

Eleanor doesn’t respond. There isn’t the faintest shred of doubt in her eyes.

It makes no damn sense why she’s still standing there!

“For Here’s sake…Do I have spell it out for your puny little brain?!” He yells, barely able to contain the bubbling self-loathing in his essence; “This is what I am!”

Flicking his wrist above his head, he sets each of the of the lanes in the bowling alley behind them alight, creating several paths of intense flames. Eleanor’s eyes widen, though she barely jumps. Still not enough? Damn it, she looks almost impressed. He waves both hands up this time, causing half the lights in the ceiling to violently burst. That at least gets her to duck before realising there’s nothing to rain down on her.

She straightens up and gives him a look; “You done? You’re just making a mess right now, dude.”

“Why should I care?! Why should I give a fork about ANY OF THIS?!” He punches the Wack-A-Mole, releasing a bunch of fiery snakes from the holes into the air, flying up around them, roaring hideously; “This is why I was made, Eleanor! I can’t be like you or the others! I can’t be anything else! WHY THE FORK SHOULD I EVEN TRY?!”

He turns back to his other main tormenter for this day. The claw machine.

Why the fork should he try to get what he wants the ‘right’ way? He’s a demon. He’s evil. He should just take what he wants and not give a crab what anyone thinks! If he wants the stupid forking dragon toy then what’s stopping him from just…

Releasing a shrill, ear-piercing sound from his repressed, cephalopod being, buried in the core of his essence, Michael snaps both of his thumbs in the direction of the machine, channelling every ounce of rage into his infernal magic.

The glass surrounding the pile of toys explodes tremendously, creating a ripple of sheer power that smashes the surrounding machines in its wake. The stuffed animals are free to tumble out to their escape, rolling down to the floor, a few singed and smoking from the intensity of the blast. Michael stands still, ragged breaths heaving from his chest, watching the plume of smoke release from the purple dragon’s nostrils. If nothing else, he made it slightly more realistic.

“Holy shirt, Michael…” He hears Eleanor curse behind him.

He takes a deeper breath; “Yeah...Maybe that was a bit overdramatic. My bad.”

“No, you moron, look at my face!”

He turns to do so, his eyes immediately drawn to the stroke of crimson across her cheek, fresh blood running down onto her fingers hovering beneath it the cut.

In an instant, his wrath dissipates.

“Oh, fork, Eleanor…” He waves his hand again. Flames are quenched, the lights restored, every shard and fleck of grass that flew into the air is restored back to its original place. Superficial damage, all easy enough to restore, like it never happened.

But this? Not this.

“You nearly took my eye out, man.” She complains, frowning at the blood on her fingertips. She doesn’t seem aware of how deep the glass managed to slice.

“Oh, Eleanor, I am so sorry! I am so, so sorry.” He whispers, carefully taking her hand, gently pulling it away so he can have a proper look.

It’s only then he notices another cut on her forearm that didn’t seem to catch her attention.

“Crab!” The sight of blood after all this time makes him go cold; “Eleanor, I swear, I didn’t mean for you to….C’mon, let me try to fix it.”

“Honestly, dude, I’m fine. I’ll just call Janet...Oh, fork, she can't leave Vicky. Fine, I'll go home and find a bandaid, Chidi keeps a bunch above the fridge, he’s always grazing himself or getting papercuts. Clumsy dork.” That was supposed to be part of his torture to go with his fondness for reading. Michael makes a mental note to undo that effect.

“You’ll need a bit more than a bandaid, that glass hit you like bullets. If you just let me, I can heal you with my magic…In theory.”

Eleanor raises an eyebrow; “In theory, bud?”

“Well…I’ve never actually used my powers to get rid of pain or suffering before, but I should technically be able to…Here.”

He puts his hands on either side of her waist, lifting her swiftly back up onto the stall so he’s not having to crane his neck down to look at her. Eleanor makes a surprised, but not displeased, noise as he manoeuvres her up to his eyelevel.

“Damn…You did that very quick, Hercules.”

“Sorry,” he apologises, again, realising too late that he probably should have asked for permission before picking her up.

Larva demon steps.

“No, s’fine….Kinda liked it.” Eleanor smiles, cheeks pinking, which he supposed was better than her skin turning paler as she continued to lose blood.

Oh…kay. He’ll ignore that remark.

He takes his bow-tie and places it over the open wound on her arms, tying it round as a makeshift bandage.

“Wow. I never realised those things had multiple uses.” Eleanor comments, looking down at the silk covering her open skin; “Hey, can’t even see the blood.”

“It’s already sealing it up. I’ll take it off in a sec after I’ve healed your face.” If he can…No, not if, he needs to. He owes her that much.

She blinks at him as he brings his face closer to hers, searching for any pieces of glass still in the flesh. Her eyes follow his, her lips slightly parted.

“You can’t just..snap it all better like everything else?” she asks.

“I could but…You’re not furniture. I don’t wanna rush it and risk doing more damage. Like I said…this is new territory for me.” He pulls back a little, satisfied that the cut is clean, at least; “Okay…let me know if this hurts.”

His thumb brushes across her cheekbone to cover the wound. She gives the slightest wince at the contact before willing herself to relax. Physical pain was never a huge deal for her. The shirty upbringing Donna and Doug gave her ‘gifted’ her with toughened nerves to handle everything life threw at her. But she was still human, which meant she still had the same ridiculously fragile body as the rest of them. How could he be so stupid to forget that?! His other hand moves up to cradle her chin, helping to keep her head steady while he works.

Eleanor continues to watch him, curious, perhaps a little more weary now? His stomach twists with guilt. He’d wanted her to be afraid and now the idea that he succeeded makes him feel sick.

You’re a coward, Mike. Always have been.

“How does that feel? Sore?” he asks her.

She almost shakes her head until he gently holds it still; “Nah…Just tingles. Feels weird but…not bad.”

“Apologies if I accidentally make your eye pop out or something.” He says, sincerely, trying desperately to make sure no such thing happens. But magic can be sporadic when tried out for the first time.

“Pretty sure you’re doing fine, Nurse bud.” Eleanor smiles, warmly.

Fork, how can she still smile at him like that after he almost maimed her?

“I am so sorry, Eleanor…” he says again. A billion and one times, if need be. How many sorries do humans usually say to make things right? “I never wanted this…Damn it, even when I was actually torturing you, I never wanted to hurt you like this.”

“Dude, it was an accident.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he protests, still keeping his thumb firmly pressed to her skin; “I should’ve seen how close you were. I was just being a big, stupid jerk.”

Eleanor hums; “Your words, not mine. But very true.”

He struggles to resist a smile back. That’s another reason he finds her presence so tolerable. She’s never afraid to give it to him straight.

Have her eyes always held so much blue in them? This is the first time he’s seen them up close. They remind him of the ocean. If only he’d chosen to go there. There’s less chance she would have been hurt if his only outlet was to hurl some sand into the air or shells across the sea.

Carefully, he moves his thumb away, satisfied to see her skin perfectly unmarked.

“There we go. All gone. Abracadabra.”

Eleanor moves to touch it herself; “You totally just lost the few cool points you were winning by finishing with ‘abracadabra’.” She strokes her fingers across it; “Yeah, see? It’s fine.”

“Hold on, lemmie just…” he removes he bow-tie from her arm, still clean as ever, revealing the cut below her shoulder to also be healed. He uses it to wipe the last traces of blood from her face, softly brushing it into memory.

“Hmm…I wonder if this is what having your mom clean your face is like?”

Michael snorts and shrugs; “I’m not exactly an expert on that myself.”

“Yeah, look at us both. Tahani would call us a couple of feral street cats.” She smiles, knocking her knee against his waist; “I’d be one of those cool, clever blond ones that can sneak in the best homes. Like a tiny, hot couger, but not the horny old lady kind.”

“Right,” Michael indulges her, making sure every last fleck of red is wiped away; “What would I be?”

“Oh, one of those really small white balls of fluff with the huge eyes. Sharp teeth but pretty much harmless because someone declawed them, poor baby.”

“You wanna go with harmless? After I nearly gouged you just now?”

Eleanor snorts; “You gave me a couple of nicks with some shrapnel because you were having a temper tantrum. If that was your attempt at showing me you’re the big bad wolf, I think Scrappy Doo was more terrifying.”

To be fair, that little gremlin mutt was hugely disturbing to watch.

He shuffles his feet, preparing himself for the worst.

“Well, I understand if you want me off the team or whatever. I’ll still help you to get into the Good Place and I’ll keep you updated on Vicky’s torture till we’re out of here, but I’m clearly not going to be able to come with you guys…”

“Why are you sure about that?” she asks, taking his hand before he can pull it back.

“Because…hurting people…it’s the only thing I know how to do, Eleanor.” He sighs, feeling small and weak; “It’s the only thing I’ve ever known…How can I be any different?”

Eleanor looks at him as if he’s just told the world’s best joke.

“Buddy. What kind of irredeemable demon sees a bleeding wound on a human and their first reaction is to help them?”

His mouth opens, wordlessly.

Oh. She’s got him there. He didn’t even have to think about it.

“You asked me why I believed you were capable of change? I couldn’t put it into words before but…” She squeezes his fingers, nodding at the bow-tie held in their shared grip; “You pretty much answered it for me, right there.”

Was that it? He wonders if he would have done that two months ago, let alone three hundred years or more. Maybe he would have carelessly snapped it all back to normal, without a care for any long term or subconscious damage, or just waited until Janet could fix it. It’s doubtful he would have jumped to Eleanor’s side as quick as he did, determined to make it better.

Why had he done that now? Was it Chidi’s classes? Was is just the most logical option, with Janet being unavailable?

Or…was there a chance Eleanor was right about him?

She’s still looking at him, tilting her head a little now, as if studying him. Is he really not some kind of project for her? He often feels as though he’s the one beneath her microscope, being checked for chinks or marks, or that she’s now the puppet master and he’s the one helpless to dance to her wishes. The scariest part is…he’s not certain that’s a bad position to be in.

“Listen, bud. You might not think you’re different than any of the other demons. But you’re the first one I know of who, even when evil, wanted to avoid making humans bleed at all costs. Not to mention the only one who seems to have a collection of things he loves about the beings he’s been taught are disgusting.” She tells him, “And no, you might not be acing human ethics quite yet…But you’re trying. And I reckon that makes you a very rare and special type of demon. One that might have a shot at becoming good.”

Michael feels his cheeks turn warm; “That still sounds unlikely. What happened to not placing your bets on a game unless you knew how to win or bribe the ref to let you cheat?”

“Well, according to you, I won this game eight hundred times already. And because I see so much of myself in you…I’m willing to bet that your odds are as good as mine.” She reaches to put her hand on his face; “And if not, we can at least team up and cheat our way in together.”

He lets out a tiny laugh at that, helpless but to lean into her touch, humbled by the fact she’s still willing to reach for him after seeing him hit rock bottom level of Total Bench.

She startles him further by leaning up and pressing her lips to the spot next to the corner of his mouth. He freezes, time itself seeming to flee from the arcade, this kind of human touch all too alien to him. Are human lips always that soft? He always imagined them to feel sticky or far too wet…

Now his face is the one left tingling.

Eleanor pulls back, smiling still; “That’s for patching me up.”

“O…Okay…” Does that mean he’s also gonna get a slap for injuring her in the first place?

She doesn’t seem to be intending to deliver any such blows. Her thumb strokes across his skin in the same motion he’d used to heal her. What scars does he have that she could possibly heal? Or maybe she’s the only one with any such ability…

“You wanna know what I think happened today?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer. He does want to know, however; “I think you had your existential crisis, where you were panicking about your own death. And today you were afraid that you might not be good enough to stay with your friends. Am I right?”

No!

….Yes. A little. Not so much ‘friends’ as…her…

“…It never mattered to me before if I could at least pretend to become good, so long as I was able to get away from Shawn and Vicky…” He tells her, seeking comfort in her touch; “Now it matters if I’m able to be good enough, for real, to join you…or, fork it, if I can be good enough just for all of you to want me to stay…I didn’t give a crab before but now…”

He takes a breath, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

“…Now I have something more to lose, I guess.” He almost wishes he never allowed himself to get attached. He almost wishes he’d kept this alliance purely professional and never allowed any such ideas as ‘friendship’ to grow.

Almost. He doesn’t. He can’t.

“Something worth trying for, I hope?”

His eyes find hers again. Two lost souls forging an unseeable connection in the small space between them. Michael nods. Of course she…it is…

Eleanor grins. He watches as she jumps off to the stool to her feet, her other hand still linked with his own holding his bowtie.

“Awesome. Now, if you want, we can go back to mine and you can sit down and talk to Chidi properly about your essay and what you were trying to get across. Maybe he’ll reconsider your grade or let your resit it?”

Michael lets out a moan, as if she had just winded him with a punch to the gut. So that was the punishment!

“Hey, I’m not gonna march you back there…it’s just a suggestion, if you’re interested in coming back to class.”

He shifts, awkwardly; “I’ll think about it.” Which means he will, he’s just not big enough to concede fully right now.

Eleanor squeezes his fingers; “Hey look, that toy you were after is still on the floor. You might as well take it after all that fuss.”

He spots it on the floor, for some reason not having returned with the others when he snapped his fingers to put the arcade back together. Why had he wanted the stupid thing again? It was no where near as beautiful as his minion. He snaps his fingers, sending it back into the pile, behind the glass.

Turning back to Eleanor, he gives a shrug; “I’ll try the normal way, some other time…Do you want me to walk you home?”

And maybe Chidi will be up. And maybe he’ll bring up the topic of his paper. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll attempt to explain to the egghead what his little mind clearly couldn’t grasp…in the most calm and mature way possible, without the use of man-eating chalkboards to emphasis his point.

Eleanor nods, “See? Even the devil can learn to be a gentleman.”

Picking up his jacket from the stool, she proceeds to toss it over his head.

His human companion laughs as he tugs it off, making his glasses skewed across his nose and mussing his hair up. Her pristine, untouched face shines as she laughs. That damn annoy…fascinating laugh. Oh, he really is hopeless now.

.