Rome Wasn't Built in a Day

by Harukami

Disclaimer: Raphael isn't ours, but the scholar, the skank, and the slut are.
Notes: Yes, this IS all historically researched. I'd give references if anybody asks. Join our ML! Sign our Guestbook! Check out and comment on things in our livejournals! Show us you love us, Charley Brown!

Despite having perfectly good long days, school invariably started early in the morning.

This was still unusual to Uriel, though he'd been dead a good three years. As a chieftain's youngest son, he'd had luxury as such things were considered, although he'd had to learn weaponry and warfare. All sons did and probably always would. Nevertheless, most days he had been able to sleep in and wake to find a slave had placed a goblet of mulled wine beside him.

Heaven, of course, had many more opportunities for luxury. It hadn't seen warfare since the time of the Rebellion. Money meant very little, although it was still practiced out of habit by most people; still, if one was in need or just want, the desire could be provided.

Despite all that, Uriel was woken damnably early in the morning every day by an unnatural beeping noise which was supposedly an invention credited to Gabriel. Uriel didn't believe a word of it. In his opinion, it had to be a creation of the Fallen One himself. The "alarm clock" -- so called for the sense of alarm it instilled in the sleeper -- was utterly evil.

Mornings were for sleeping through, preferably with a warm body or two at your side.

He rolled over and tried to stuff a pillow between his ears.

After a moment, the godforsaken noise shut off and Uriel blearily opened one eye to see Miniel leaning over him and smiling, one hand pushing down on the alarm clock.

"If anyone manages to become an angel, it will be you," he told Miniel fervently, though with a little private doubt. Miniel was, after all, a morning person.

"We have to... get up," Miniel said, after a long moment of just smiling. "We're going to be late, if we don't hurry."

Hurry, hurry, hurry. Mornings were all about hurrying. Even sex in the morning was only ever a quickie. Uriel groaned. "If I choose not to go today, will you lie for me?"

Miniel's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Sweet boy, I'd lie for you any day. But you might wish to reconsider. We're supposedly meeting our new roommate today. Don't you want to be properly introduced?"

"Fine," Uriel grumbled, and stumbled over to his closet.

Behind him, Miniel was whistling.

Cassiel trudged, as he always trudged. It was raining outside, as it usually did whenever he had to walk anywhere. He'd remembered to bring an oilskin this time, at least, and ducked under it, watching his feet kick up mud as he walked. Listened to the squelching. Hopeless, he thought, distracted. I'll never be able to leave the mud behind.

A gust of wind picked up and whipped his oilskin nearly out of his hands. He clung to it, cursing. It was only a moment before the wind died down again, but that was a moment without protection and his clothing was, as always, soaked, his hair plastered to his skin. He tucked the oilskin around him as if it mattered.

So much for good impressions, he thought, almost wry. He'd been living in the City for the last few years due to the rooming problem, but Gabriel had called him in the other day -- for which he was highly appreciative as the Administrator had such a busy schedule -- and had told him that he would be sharing an exam with two other students and would room with them for the exam period.

Starting today. Of course that meant that he was to arrive muddy and wet.

Well. No way around it. He tilted his head back and stared at the sky with somber eyes for a moment, watching shapes in the storm clouds, and then moved on.

They managed to squeak in just before the bell, which Miniel considered a major achievement of his. Uriel had looked just so nice wearing the outfit he'd been born in, and Miniel had lied about the amount of time they had.

He smirked over at Uriel who looked back as nonchalantly as only Uriel could manage. He had to envy Uriel sometimes; the other boy could look as innocent as a child in less than half an hour after he'd been moaning and clawing at the wall. Miniel was certain that whenever anybody looked at him, they knew exactly what he'd been up to an hour before. He leaned over and said as much to Uriel.

"That's because you smirk," Uriel said, smirking himself. "And you half-close your eyes and look around the room in this smug but not quite satiated manner, and scan the people around you as if your eyes could undress them..."

People within hearing range were starting to snicker. Miniel glanced around, eyeing them. "It doesn't seem to work," he told Uriel after a moment and, damn it all, Uriel was right, he was smirking. "Their clothes are still in place. I suppose I'll have to work on it."

Uriel laughed and Raphael strode in and took a seat on the desk at the front of the room.

They said that Raphael was the oldest teacher in the school, and though they had several professors, Raphael was the only Professor. Still, supposed age aside, Raphael was delightfully attractive. Rugged, but with a slight edge of pretty and eyes that danced. Miniel wondered, not for the first time, whether angels really were open-wave telepathic and if he could get away with fantasizing about Raphael in class.

"Well," Raphael said, smiling out at his class in a relaxed manner. "Shall we begi--"

He was interrupted by a student bursting into the room and bowing hurriedly. "I'm sorry to be late, Professor," the student mumbled and found his seat, dripping.

Finally, his curiosity got the better of him and he sent a note down Cassiel's way. What happened to you?

Cassiel glanced up when the note reached him, slightly suspicious, but it wasn't too long before a response came back to Uriel. Got caught in the rain.

Startled, Uriel glanced over at Cassiel. Rain? Uriel had a fairly good weather sense, and found it hard to believe that it had rained at all that morning. Of course, he'd been otherwise occupied, he had to admit.

He was about to answer when he saw Cassiel, as he was taking notes on something that was probably important, shake his hand furiously, mouth moving as though he were cursing under his breath. After a moment, he saw why -- Cassiel's quill had split and spattered ink on him.

Uriel shot Cassiel a sympathetic smile and saw Cassiel look down, as if ashamed. How did I miss it? Uriel asked himself. The boy is adorable...

Raphael had perhaps seen part of the exchange, or at least Cassiel's minor disaster, because he came over with a handkerchief and a new quill. "Here you are, Cassiel. I pray it lasts a bit longer than your old one."

Statements like that always made Uriel wonder. By pray, did he mean...?

Shame, public disgrace. Cassiel accepted the quill with what he hoped wasn't too much ill grace. "Thank you, Raphael-sama."

Class went on much as it always did, Cassiel's quill flying over the page with the occasional ink spot, but taking down everything he thought could be important. He probably had the best notes in the class. It would be hard to take more, he thought.

Raphael stopped suddenly and checked the clock. There was a long moment of silence before Raphael smiled. "Well, it's the time you all have been waiting for, I'm afraid." The Professor reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of -- Parchment? Vellum? Cassiel wasn't sure -- and began distributing them around the class.

Cassiel did not get one. He raised his hand.

"One moment, Cassiel. Wait after class. You too, Uriel, Miniel."

Cassiel blanched, wondering what he'd done wrong, and sank down into his seat, hunched over. Had he broken some rule he wasn't aware of? Hopefully, there were just some complications with the exam, but...

The class filtered out, most looking distressed. "Well," Raphael said when it was just the four of them, "I'd like to introduce you to your new roommate. Uriel, Miniel, this is Cassiel. Go easy on him, okay?"

Cassiel was full of horror and tried desperately to keep it off his face. Uriel? Miniel?! The whole school knew about the "Terrible Two". Pranksters and sex-fiends were some of the kindest words that had been said about them. What was Raphael thinking? I like to read and keep to myself. There's no way... I'll die, or kill them, or...

"Pleased," Uriel said, and Cassiel dredged up a smile from somewhere. It was a small, hopeless smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"The pleasure is all mine," he murmured.

Miniel looked Cassiel over with a critical eye. Cassiel was underdeveloped and seemed to squint a little all the time, but was rather pretty for all that, in a scrawny, pale sort of way. Almost certainly a virgin, poor thing.

Ah, well. If Raphael ordered it. If worse came to worse, Cassiel would just have to learn to ignore Miniel's activities with the intensity that the boy supposedly put to studying. He smirked. It would take that much effort to ignore, of course.

"Charmed," Miniel said, and Cassiel smiled faintly.

"And now, your exam," Raphael said. "The reason we are having you all room together, of course, is because you three will be taking the same exam."

Uriel frowned. "Isn't that unusual?"

A slight shrug from Raphael. "We've had two angels have to pass together before and probably will again. Three isn't that much of a stretch."

"But why?" Miniel asked.

Raphael raised his eyebrow. "That's for me to know. Now, here's the situation."

Situation? Miniel smiled. He could handle a situation exam, no problem.

The Professor took a deep breath before diving in. "We will direct you to a hill known as the Palentine Hill. On it is a settlement, primarily composed of farmers and shepherds. Unfortunately, across the river is a highly advanced civilization known as the 'Etruscans'. The Etruscans have recently noticed this small settlement and is deciding what to do with it. Resolve the conflict, however you want. You will be graded on decisions that will affect the future of both peoples, not just the present."

Shock like an icy river. He stared at Raphael.

"Let's put it off," Uriel suggested later that day, sprawled on his back on his bed. "At least until we have a better idea where we want to go with this."

Miniel looked at him doubtfully. "Can we put it off? I mean, the humans will make some kind of move at any rate. It's really just influence that we'll have here. If we wait too long, we might have an instant fail."

Picking irritably at a loose thread of wool on the bed sheet, Uriel sighed. "I want you to know I hate it when you're right."

Smirking, Miniel rolled over. "Oh, you love it."

"You know, I always think more clearly after sex," Uriel said, smiling heavy-lidded at Miniel. Or at least, he mused, I can put off worrying for a bit longer.

It wasn't just that Miniel was a good lover. He was a supernaturally good lover, seeming to have the same sense for sex that Uriel had for weather -- he knew what was wanted when, and how. Uriel let his eyes drift shut as his lower lip was sucked on.

He jerked upright as the door was shouldered open and Cassiel walked in. Eyes glanced over them, then away as Cassiel slung a bag off his shoulder.

"Right, you're moving in today," Uriel said inanely, feeling a bit stupid. "Can I help you with your stuff?"

The boy glanced over with a look akin to distain before his expression went neutral. "No, thank you, I think I have everything."

Beside him, Miniel sat up, disgruntled at the interruption. "Just that? Not very much. I didn't think you could be poor in heaven, but I see you're trying."

Cassiel's eyes darkened then returned to blankness again.

He sought, desperately, for something neutral to say in response. "I might be out tomorrow. I was thinking of going to Carthage to learn more about both the Etruscans and these Latins."

Uriel smiled gratefully, and Cassiel felt a bit regretful for his earlier disgust. Still, the sight of them about to do something like that when they had something so important that they should be doing instead...

"Oh, right, I'd heard you're the perfect student," Miniel said, sneering a little. "I'd heard you're Hebrew."

Cassiel hesitated, knowing the tone this would take but not knowing why. "I...was."

"I'm sorry," Miniel said sympathetically. "That must be horrible for you."

Anger. Of all things, to insult his ancestry. "None of us have nationalities now," he said carefully. "You might wish to remember that."

Uriel was glancing back and forth between them with an expression Cassiel had last seen on his late aunt when she was debating whether to separate two of the dogs.

"I think," Miniel said, snotty, "that we can hardly have any sort of moral background without remembering who we were as well as who we are. I was Babylonian. A wonderful city with plenty of culture." The tone implied that the Hebrews had never had culture and never would.

If I don't give as good as I get, Cassiel thought, he'll make my life miserable.

"Babylonian?" Cassiel said aloud. "Well." He gestured out the window at heaven. "It must have burned when you realized that we Hebrews were right about this."

Miniel's face went blank with shock.

"Actually," Cassiel said, "I think we might have heard of you in OUR culture. The Whore of Babylon, right?"

The other student's face twisted with rage. Cassiel prepared to dodge to safety but Uriel lunged first and caught Miniel before he could fling himself at Cassiel. "Miniel!"

"Let me go! I'll kill him!"

"Miniel, calm down!"

Shakily, Cassiel straightened his robes. "I'm going to Carthage now," he announced more for the sake of something to say than anything else, and slipped out the door.

Outside, he leaned against the wall for support, then sank down it so he sat huddled, head on his arms.

I will not cry. I will not cry.

With the target gone, Miniel's rage slipped away and left him trembling, clinging to Uriel's restraining arms with hands suddenly gone numb. "I..."

Slowly, Uriel relaxed his grip, and Miniel found that he couldn't turn to look at his friend. He felt sick, stared at the bed sheets, crumpled and twisted from his lunge.

"Miniel..."

"I'm not a whore," he said, trying for his usual assurance and failing, instead finding his voice on the edge of tears. "I... damn..."

He shook. He couldn't ask for anything. Couldn't open his mouth to say another word. Uriel knew, he'd told Uriel his history.

Dance, boy, dance.

And he moved like fire, as he'd been taught, lithe golden body spinning among veils until the audience could not bear to just watch any longer and reached out to

Does everybody think that of me? Even here? I thought here, I could be free...

Carefully, Uriel put his arms back around Miniel, this time in an embrace and Miniel crumpled, tried not to but felt himself crumple anyway to cry, hoarsely, on Uriel's shoulder.

"You're not a whore anymore," Uriel said, and somehow, that hurt worse.

When Cassiel slipped back in during the late afternoon of the next day, Uriel tensed, seeing the sneer cross Miniel's face, seeing the dodgy way Cassiel avoided looking at either of them.

Shit. We're all going to fail at this rate.

"You two," Uriel said, and then pointed at Miniel as his roommate's mouth opened "No, shut up, Miniel. YOU too, Cassiel."

He glared at both of them. "You are both acting like children here. Listen, Cassiel was right. It's not about our pasts, it's about our futures."

They both looked at him sullenly.

Uriel rolled his eyes. "Listen. We are all... we are ourselves. How can we expect to be angels if we're always lashing out at others? I mean, sure. Miniel gets around." He directed his gaze at Cassiel, careful not to look at the betrayal he was sure would be on his friend's face. "But he does so because he likes people, and people like him, not for any cruel reason. And yes, you study a lot, and come from a certain background. So? Studying has a lot of value. And as to background... my people were the Getae. We all thought we were immortal. I was proven wrong, but, you know? I got over it." He held his hands out. "We are who we are, not what we were. If you two can't accept that, we're going to end up in the City as just more souls, and we might as well get used to that."

Dead silence as both stared at him. Uriel sweated slightly. Well, one of them is going to have to be the first to apologize. He fixed Miniel with a wrathful gaze.

Their eyes held for a moment, Uriel making sure he let his promises of violence show through, Miniel's smouldering with anger for once, and Miniel was the first to let his eyes drop. A moment of silence and Uriel thought impatiently ~Come on, Min, show the dove~, wishing he'd paid more attention in the 'pathing classes.

"I'm sorry, Cassiel," Miniel said finally, reluctant. His lips twisted for a moment. "I behaved badly. As did you, mind you."

Quickly, Uriel glanced back at Cassiel. The smaller boy's eyes were downcast still but he murmured, "I did, yes. I accept your apology." When he finally raised his face, his eyes were guarded.

Well, Uriel mused. It's not much. But it's a start.

When Cassiel had to be in the same room as them, he'd write, quill scribbling across the page, head down, hoping that they would ignore them. Usually, they did, chatting together as they probably always had.

But this night it seemed that Uriel was out with a lover and Miniel was idly tossing a pendant-necklace from one hand to the other, sitting on his own bed.

Cassiel snuck a look.

Miniel was undressed down to his trousers, and his skin looked as if the muscles under it were toned, as if he'd exercised frequently in life. His hair was in a short cut, the bangs flat along his eyebrows, the rest of its spun gold cut straight to his chin.

He caught sight of a design peeking over Miniel's shoulder and, curious, leaned forward a little for a better look. It was imbedded into his skin, either through fire or -- one of the Egyptian students had what she called a 'tattoo', made of ink inserted under the skin with needles. It sounded like a hideously painful process, but Miniel had one, a complex cuneiform-style leaf with a flower bursting into life above it.

Realizing he was staring, Cassiel jerked his eyes up and watched Miniel watching him. "Sorry," Cassiel said automatically.

Miniel rose and strode over, strong legs pushing against the fabric of his pants and Cassiel cringed back, fearing a beating or worse.

But no, Miniel just crouched down across from him, smiling amicably. "You were looking at my tattoo?"

Helpless, Cassiel could only nod. I'm going to DIE. Again.

Miniel turned, presenting his back for closer inspection.

Cassiel swallowed. It looked so smooth, up close, as if it were actually a part of the skin instead of some kind of decoration. Unable to stop himself, telling himself that Miniel probably expected it, he reached out and traced a finger over it.

All he could feel was skin. It was as if the pattern was natural. "Is...is it normal? Or is it actually a tattoo?"

Miniel chuckled, skin rippling over his back, making the design jerk. "It's just a tattoo."

Curious, Cassiel traced it again with a fingernail. "What does it mean?"

There was a silence and Cassiel paused, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Stillness. Miniel was stock-still, like a rabbit sensing danger.

Or, Cassiel mused, withdrawing his hand quickly, like a cat that's just spotted its prey.

"It's a fertility symbol," Miniel said blandly, turning and standing, smiling pleasantly. As if the exchange hadn't happened, he leered. "Do YOU have any marks in interesting places?"

Predictably, Cassiel blushed.

He's not that bad, Miniel realized, watching Cassiel sleep, face first in a book.

Cassiel's brown hair was spread across the book -- Miniel knew he couldn't read the language, and it certainly hadn't been translated into angelic script.

A cool spring breeze passed through the room and Cassiel shivered. Miniel snagged a blanket, weighed it thoughtfully in his hand.

Cassiel had stopped shivering when the breeze had passed but seemed to be sleeping a bit more uneasily. He shifted, and the page of the book made a quiet ripping noise.

Miniel draped the blanket gently over Cassiel's shoulders, looked around to make sure that nobody had noticed, and stalked out of his room, scowling.

What he needed, he decided, was a nice fuck. Good thing that there was always one available.

Uriel grinned as Miniel reached for a bread roll at the same time that Cassiel reached out for it. The other boys stared at each other for a moment of, apparently, dumb shock, and then both let the bread roll go at the same time.

It was cute. Neither of them were willing to admit that they'd begun to consider the other a friend, but to Uriel's eyes, watching them day in and out, there was no doubt about it.

"Please--"

"No, really--"

Uriel reached out, took a large bite of the bread roll, and chewed, grinning.

After a couple of weeks had passed, Cassiel found he was getting to actually, well, like his roommates. He would rather cut his own heart out than tell any students that, of course -- instead, he complained about their willingness to fuck at any given hour, and their even odder tendency to bring a third party home to join in. For what it was worth, however, when it wasn't spontaneous they did try to warn him ahead of time, and he knew when to make himself scarce and when to turn his head to the wall.

And if he watched now and then, well, he was a teenager and nobody could ever blame him.

But when not grumpy, Miniel was if not fun at least interesting, and Uriel was always dragging Cassiel into their business.

A place, he had to admit, he didn't mind being.

"And I've got him nearly pinned, and he's so adorable with his tunic belt undone, and his hair all spread out like so and his halo bright against the pillow. And I lean over him and whisper--" Here Miniel's voice dropped into a sexy, groin-tugging murmur that Miniel was so very good at "'I'm going to bury myself so deeply inside you that you'll be breathing me'. And he looks up at me with these huge eyes and he says," Miniel punctuated his sentence with a wave of his quill, practically crowing with delight, "He says, 'Is that safe?'"

Uriel gasped with laughter and Cassiel found himself smiling up at them over the book he was attempting, with little success, to read the crabby handwriting of.

Miniel let his eyes rove around the class, most of whom were looking tired at this point. Less fun -- too much exam stress, probably. He could sympathize; he was trying to enjoy things still, but that upcoming exam loomed on the horizon, constantly at the back of his mind.

How to handle a war. Shit.

Still, he was determined not to let it show. He glanced around at Uriel sitting in the seat next to him and humming, tapping his quill, and then at the empty seat.

Where was Cassiel? He'd said something about one of the texts he was reading, but they'd nearly been late that morning at any rate, and he should have shown up already.

At least the prof was late today.

As if on cue, Cassiel skidded into the class and Miniel grinned -- Cassiel was running flat out and that was cute. It was nice to see Cassiel breaking out of the 'quiet-sloucher' type. The boy really needed to be more outgoing.

Unfortunately, it looked like Cassiel's sandals weren't gripping all that well and that he wasn't going to be able to stop. Miniel winced as Cassiel impacted with a desk, knocking it over and getting tangled in the legs.

Uriel was up in a flash to go help Cassiel and Miniel watched, for a moment, the helpful limbs on limbs as Uriel detangled their roommate.

When it looked like everything was okay and nothing broken, he leaned over. "You've got the worst luck. Are you cursed, Cass?" he laughed, and then was surprised at himself to hear the nickname.

Cassiel smiled vaguely at him. "Uhm." After a moment, Cassiel seemed to notice that a very disgruntled student was pointing at his desk, as if demanding that it get straightened up. "Oh," Cassiel said weakly. "I'm sorry, I--"

"Look at it," the student -- Melior, if Miniel could recall correctly -- was saying, pointing at his notes. "They're covered with ink now. What do you plan to do about it?"

Cassiel stared at Melior with a hunted look that Miniel could remember putting on the kid's face himself. Uriel glared, eyes swirling dark, and Miniel cursed under his breath. If someone didn't stop Uriel now, a brawl would start for sure.

We're going to have enough troubles graduating without getting expelled for fighting, thank you.

Smirking a little, Miniel leaned over, letting his hair fall over his eyes to brush his cheekbones. He knew the effect it had. "Melior, honey, leave the kid alone. It was an accident."

"Yeah, and my notes?" Melior demanded.

"Borrow someone's."

Melior glared. "Fuck you," he pronounced carefully.

Miniel chuckled. "That's not how I remember it happening," he said, loud enough to be heard in the room.

There were muffled snorts and snickers. Most people were of the opinion that it was all right to sleep with men, as long as you were on top. Miniel narrowed his eyes. Close-minded bastards.

Outwardly, though, he kept his smirk up. "I remember you as more easy...going than that, Mel. Cheer up, nobody was hurt."

Melior straightened his desk with a jerk, angry, head down. Uriel patted Miniel's shoulder as he passed. "Thanks."

Miniel shrugged the touch off and, settling back into his seat, saw Cassiel watching him with a slightly confused expression.

They were lolling together in rosy, if slightly sticky, sleepiness. Uriel rubbed his nose against Miniel's throat, feeling the pulse there, imagining sleepily that he could smell the blood, thinner and sweeter than horse blood had been. Still pumping, as if they were alive.

Miniel made a low noise that really could be translated in a number of ways, long fingers stroking thoughtfully over Uriel's shoulder.

It was peaceful here. Perhaps, even with the studies they'd all been doing into the cultures on earth, perhaps they had no chance of ever passing. But for now it was --

Noisy, actually, as Cassiel literally fell into the room, door banging back against the wall, the teen flailing, sending books flying everywhere. Uriel couldn't see what had tripped Cassiel up but a moment later the boy went the way of the books, landing in a vaguely crumpled heap.

Uriel and Miniel both looked at each other with identical expressions, not knowing whether to laugh or be worried.

Cassiel sat up with a groan, looked at them, and pursed his lips in an almost automatic look of distaste. "I'd ask you to help me up, but I see you're busy," he said, almost snidely.

With a shrug, Miniel swept the sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his waist as impromptu garb. Modesty -- what little Miniel had of such a thing -- intact, he went over and helped Cassiel to his feet, only the hints of a smile tugging at the left corner of his lips.

Unfortunately, that noble gesture left Uriel quite naked, and it was a bit chilly. He grumbled.

Cassiel looked at him and his nose wrinkled. "Oh, for... Uriel, go clean yourself up. I need to talk to the both of you."

Miniel fetched a basin of water and they both busied themselves on cleaning up; if there was one thing they'd learned, it was that Cassiel meant that tone of voice.

Still, when Miniel tossed a dirty cloth at him, it was only fair to retaliate and it could quite possibly have descended into hair pulling if Cassiel hadn't reached out and caught the cloths, giving them both a sharp look. The expression faded quite quickly into disgust and he dropped the cloths, but Uriel nevertheless felt quite chastened. "Yes, mother," he mumbled.

"Well," Miniel murmured, tugging his pants over his hips and fastening them with his usual sash, "What's so urgent."

"We have to decide what we're going to do."

A moment of silence, before Uriel dared to venture, "We have months left."

"Yes," Cassiel said pointedly. "Months in which we have to try to convince the humans to behave in the matter we decide we need them to."

Another long moment of silence.

Really, Uriel thought, there wasn't much of a chance for what he believed was necessary. You had a tiny tribe of shepherds and farmers living in mud huts on the side of a hill, and you had an incredibly advanced civilization, and they weren't getting along.

"Well," Miniel said slowly. "It's going to be one or the other. I don't like it, but the Etruscans have a very long, old, respectable culture. They have temples to their gods and bathhouses and civic buildings. They're going to have to win, or we'll have the death of a culture on our hands. They deserve it more."

Uriel scowled, picking at his leather breeches. "I don't like that, Min. I know they're GOING to win -- I know war, if I know anything. But that's the thing, even if a miracle happens and the Etruscans lose this battle, they have many cities and their culture WON'T be wiped out. The Latins, however, well. If they lose this battle, they'll all die. I know it's impossible, but that's what angels are for, right? To make the impossible come true. I want the shepherds, that tiny tribe, to win. Perhaps then they'll have a culture better than the Etruscans, if that's your worry, Min."

Miniel made a sour face at that. "A civilization of dirt-workers?"

Cassiel smiled vaguely. "It worked for us."

The blond boy was silent, apparently musing that over. Uriel was obliquely pleased. Not long ago, Miniel would have snapped back something nasty about slavery or something, which would have been a hideous example of pot and kettle, but Miniel was known for such things. Now he was considering it.

"What I want," Cassiel said, "is for both to survive."

Uriel laughed. He couldn't help it. "Cass, that's imp--"

"No, listen," Cassiel said, tone perfectly serious. "We have to get the Etruscans to help the Latins -- they prefer "Romans", by the way, after their city Roma -- we have to get the Etruscans to help the Romans develop civilization."

"It's a nice dream," Miniel said.

Cassiel continued as if Miniel hadn't spoken. "One side or the other would win without our interference. It's human nature to fight until one succeeds or one dies. The odds certainly favour the Etruscans, but one never knows how a rat will fight until its back is against a wall. Do you seriously think we can pass a test with either attempting to massacre the other? No. We have to work for this. Why aim low? If nothing else, we will have tried something ideal."

Uriel could find nothing to say.

"I don't know what kind of angel Most Holy would want me to be if I graduate," Cassiel said. "But I'm certain that it wouldn't be one who doesn't try to gain the best possible result."

When he stopped talking, silence fell. Uriel opened his mouth, and shut it again.

Cassiel smiled tersely, lips thin, triumphant.

He'd succeeded.

They were staring at him, stunned, but they were considering it. They had to. If not, they'd all fail; they had to work together, after all.

Now they were staring at each other. Cassiel watched, interested. It was possible they weren't aware of how they were looking at each other, as if vying for dominance. It reminded him of the hounds back home. The battle was so common that they stopped doing it consciously after a time, but it was nevertheless very, very real.

Miniel looked away first, slowly starting to grin. "Cassiel, you are a genius."

He grinned. Why not respond in like kind? These were his partners, after all. "I know."

On the other side of him, Uriel laughed, delighted.

Miniel said, after a moment, "We have to get to know the cultures."

"Learn their tactics," Uriel added.

Cassiel nodded. Good! They were going to get to work.

"But," Miniel said consideringly, "this is a very easy job to burn out on. It will be a lot of hard work. This is going to be very absorbing; we have to pace ourselves."

Uriel raised an eyebrow. "We can't put it off, Min. Cassiel's right about that."

Cassiel gloated silently.

"I know," Miniel agreed. "But how about we spend half the day researching, and the other half of the day relaxing? Then we can make sure we don't leave it to the last minute, and we can also make sure we don't crack under the strain near the beginning."

"Agreed," Uriel said, and spat on his hand. Miniel did the same and they pressed their hands together.

It seemed a barbaric custom for a moment, and then Cassiel reminded himself sharply that HE came from a culture where you grabbed the other man's groin while swearing an oath, and who knew how that looked to an outsider?

He spat on his own hand, joining it to those of his roommates.

Once they'd made their decision, they'd gone to Raphael who had listened intently and given them each 'temporary' gate keys, so that they could go back and forth between heaven and earth and do research. Miniel had been startled to see that Cassiel had already had one, but Raphael had smiled and said that Cassiel had gotten a head start on his research.

It figured. That was Cassiel, for sure.

No matter how he looked at it, it was hopeless. The Etruscans were proud; they'd never help mud-grubbers like the Romans.

Ah, well. He could think on it. He rose, stretching his back, and had just stepped out of the room when he was snagged by Uriel and, surprise! Cassiel and he were hussled off to a field he hadn't remembered going to before. In it, a large sprawling building, vaguely Minoan in style, lay like a king's palace.

"You gotta get involved in this," Uriel was snickering. "You'll love it."

"What?" Miniel asked, bemused.

"Cassiel's extensive research has told us that THE angel is going to be bathing in that there, within the hour." Uriel was pointing at a building that must have been a bathhouse.

"THE angel?" Miniel's amusement was growing. "And Cass? Really! I'd not have expected it of you."

Cassiel scowled, blushing faintly. "I'm going to take this opportunity to blame it all on Uriel."

"Aw, don't be like that." Uriel passed a hand over Cassiel's head, ruffling his hair. "You didn't HAVE to go and find out when I asked."

Cassiel's blush deepened and Miniel grinned at both of them. The unspoken statement in the air was that people just couldn't ignore Uriel. They could like him or dislike him, but he had a way of getting an effect, one way or another. There were times, Miniel remembered, that he was a pain in the ass in an unpleasant way.

"Anyway, Min," Uriel said. "THE angel is exactly that. THE angel. The Voice of Most Holy."

It took a moment for Miniel to connect the statement with the intent, and he found himself gaping. "You want to spy on the Metatron in the bath."

"I admit to some curiosity," Uriel said, flightily.

"You're crazed. He could have you expelled!"

Uriel smirked. "That, my friend, is why I mustn't get caught."

Miniel shook his head, unsure if what he was feeling was respect or astonishment at his roommate's utter stupidity. "You are a better man than I, Uriel."

"Are you coming with me?"

He thought about that. Well. Two people were always more difficult to punish than one. "All right."

They turned as one to look at Cassiel.

"Oh, no," Cassiel said, waving his hands and shaking his head. "I've done my part. I'm sure you'll describe the adventure in great detail later."

"Lurid detail," Uriel corrected, and Miniel rolled his eyes.

They slipped into the halls, light and dark. The corridors were long and beautifully mosaiced, images covering every wall, ceiling, and pillar. It would have been painful if they didn't all match so well, were so beautiful.

The Voice must have had wonderful taste.

The bathhouse was just up ahead, by the feel of the air, and it seemed like they'd get there with no problems when Miniel stiffened.

Uriel shot him a glance, questioning, and then heard the footsteps himself.

With a bitten off curse, he grabbed Miniel and ducked into the nearby changing room, ducking behind a curtain. There wasn't room for both of them, and it sounded as if the person was coming this way.

He glanced at Miniel, terrified of the consequences, upset that this was going to come to an end so soon.

Miniel's face was blank for a moment, but then he smirked, leaned forward to plant a light kiss on Uriel's mouth, and tucked the curtain around Uriel.

In the muffling dark, Uriel couldn't see what was happening. The footsteps entered the room and a male voice called, "Your shoes are FINE, you twit," And then "Who are you?" in a tight, disapproving voice.

"I'm sorry," Miniel purred. "I seem to have gotten lost on the way to the public bathhouse. This isn't it, is it?"

"No. I'm afraid it isn't."

"I am," Miniel said, and Uriel's eyes widened, because he could hear a thread of power running under that tone, and, shit, Miniel shouldn't be using his old human powers on anyone here, but it was too late now, and it was only a HINT of power, anyway, "very glad to have gotten lost," Miniel finished.

Silence for a long moment and then, firm in Uriel's mind ~Go now.~

Uriel snuck out, saw Miniel kissing an angel -- an actual ANGEL, not just some attendant! -- against a wall, and snuck out faster, not looking back.

The doors in front of him radiated heat, so they must be the bathhouse doors. He could hear soft singing from inside -- a bit of a warble, the kind of voice used when nobody's going to be listening to you sing. It was a shame, really, he'd hoped to get there BEFORE the Metatron did so he could hide somewhere in the room, but he could at least get a peek before he fled.

He pushed lightly on the door, hoping to just open it a crack.

He hadn't expected light doors, not when they were so massive, and it swung wide while he froze, heart hammering in sudden terror.

The figure in the bath turned, startled.

Beautiful. Droplets of water clung like diamonds to ivory skin and gray hair, and also to thick eyelashes which were sticking together as wet eyelashes were wont to do. Full lips were half-parted in surprise, and the hair trailed slowly, wetly, like touches across the angel's shoulders. The outspread wings were also gifted with water-diamonds, the wet feathers gleaming in the bathhouse lights. As if coming awake, the angel's eyes widened and Uriel saw that they were gray.

And then the angel let out an ear-piercing shriek and Uriel ran as if the hosts of hell were on his heels.

He heard a pause in the shriek behind him and a shouted "Well, You could have WARNED me, couldn't You?!" but didn't stop, just kept running, bursting into the student dorms and into his own room, diving for cover.

"How'd it go?" Cassiel asked.

Time passed.

Cassiel looked up from his notebook, where he and the others had been pouring over each other's notes for clues, for pieces of information to fall together. So far, no good.

He watched Uriel bend over Miniel's notebook, most of his short hair mussed from hands running through it, the two long thin braids in front of his ears sweeping forward to just brush the pages.

Perhaps Cassiel had been around them too long, but he didn't even hesitate before reaching over to tug lightly on the nearest braid.

"I get that a lot," Uriel said without looking up.

"Sexy hair is public domain," Miniel muttered, turning a page.

Cassiel considered this and smiled slightly. "Well, it's certainly unusual. Why is it cut like that? Is it cultural?"

Something about Uriel seemed to freeze, although he'd been motionless before. Now it seemed like ice had sunk deep into his skin and he was frozen, unable to move. After a while, he broke the ice and said, with a smile, "I got it in battle, I'm afraid."

"You say that like it's a wound or something." It slipped out before he noticed Miniel shaking his head at him in warning. Quickly, he added, "You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."

Not looking up, apparently talking to his page, Uriel said, "The Getae wear their hair long, as warriors do, with braids in front of their ears. If a warrior is branded a coward, his hair is shorn."

It seemed impossible as the implications of that sank in. During all of his time here, Cassiel had never seen Uriel back away from a challenge. He remembered, although Uriel had never known him then, when a few years back Uriel was nearly expelled for fighting. He opened his mouth then shut it, not knowing what to say.

Uriel went on in a monotone. "I was facing an enemy, a different Thracian tribe, in battle. Another of the enemy slashed me several times across the back. I fell. They let me fall." His head dropped down so his forehead was touching the book and the two braids lay twisted like snakes beside. "I was still alive when my father found me. I pleaded with him for help and he was lifting me when he saw the placement of my wounds, all on my back. 'My son's a coward', he said, and dropped me, and rolled me over so I was face down in the dirt and then pulled me up by the hair and before I knew it I was falling again as his bloody sword cut through my hair and sent me sprawling back in the dirt as my father let my hair fall around me." He was silent for a long moment and then added, "I was left there to die a coward's death."

Cassiel felt like he couldn't move, just staring at that hunched, quiet figure. Something rose inside him like bubbles in a well, he couldn't keep it back and ended up saying suddenly, forcefully, "That's horrible!"

"Or perhaps," Uriel said, still in that monotone, "I did turn to run. Only I and the men I was fighting will know, I suppose."

Another moment of silence and this time it was the opposite, there was nothing to say, nothing bubbling up, just an empty inability to think, with that statement lying flatly in the air.

Miniel reached out to put a hand on Uriel's shoulder but before he could touch, Uriel rose suddenly. "I need to piss," he announced cheerfully and headed out the door.

It was horrible. Cassiel looked at Miniel, tried to find something to say.

"He's incredible, isn't he?" Miniel said, rhetorically. "He'll always be a warrior, I think."

Miniel keyed back into the School and stood for a moment, disoriented. Other students walked past him, most of them younger and probably in lower years. He blinked.

Funny, but most of the students were young, weren't they? He himself had died in his early twenties, about five years after reaching adulthood, and Uriel in his late teens, but he didn't think he'd ever seen a student here who was above thirty. And few were younger than Cassiel, who was probably in his middle teenage years.

But couldn't people of any age become angels?

"Ah, Miniel. Back from research?"

He shook his hair out of his eyes with a jangle of his bracelets and belt. "My Lord Raphael. Yes, I just got in." From a long day of uselessness, really. His head hurt.

"I'm glad to catch you out here," Raphael was saying in his usual pleasant tone. "Walk with me a bit? I was hoping to ask you a few questions."

Miniel's heart stuttered. He was sure that every student had nightmares about hearing those words. "Of course. As you wish."

Damn it, he could feel himself slipping back into subservience, feel the automatic twist to his hips and he could not, no matter how hard he tried, raise his eyes. He caught at his lower lip with his teeth and worried at it, trying not to think.

"My lord?" he asked after a moment of the most uncomfortable silence he could ever remember. "I was just noticing that all of the students are youths. Why not younger? Or, well, older for that fact? Can't gnarled old men of forty become angels as well?"

Raphael laughed, eyes warm. "Well, it's not that they can't. But children have little discipline for studies, and after a certain age people begin to stop wanting to try so hard, grow tired, stop caring as much. There are occasional candidates outside of youth, but usually the ones who died around your age tend to do best."

"Oh," Miniel said, knowing he sounded stupid, and said lamely, "That makes sense."

"Besides," Raphael added with a wink, "it gives you more appealing ones to choose from, hmm?"

The implications of that took a moment to sink in. "...what?"

"Which reminds me, I was wondering how things are going with your roommates," Raphael went on pleasantly. "I know how you... got along with Uriel. So, your relations... strained? Or are things still going well?"

Miniel stopped walking without being fully aware that he'd stopped, and gaped at his teacher in shock, the pauses ringing louder than the words were. "They're fine," he managed eventually, tentatively convincing himself that he'd misheard and Raphael hadn't said 'relations' instead of 'relationship'.

"Wonderful." Raphael had stopped too, and was leaning against the wall, eyes sparkling. "And Cassiel? A lot of people believed you two wouldn't get along. Is everything all right there?'

Well, that seemed innocuous enough. "We're getting along fine," Miniel said. "He's kind of withdrawn, but he's a good enough kid, really, when he comes out of his shell."

Raphael looked around as if checking if the corridor were empty and then asked, "How is he?" It was said with a sort of lewd grin that left no doubt to his meaning.

Miniel stared and stared. This was a side of his teacher he'd never seen before and hoped he'd never see again. He swallowed before he said anything, then raised his head and, with knowledge of expulsion at the front of his mind said, "I don't know. I haven't had him."

"Really?" Raphael quirked one dark eyebrow. "I thought you'd had everybody at some point."

He clenched his hands at his side because if he didn't, he was going to hit Raphael. And though he was angry, he was clearheaded enough to realize that that was a Bad Idea. "My lord Raphael," Miniel hissed. "I will admit that if he shows interest, yes, I probably will sleep with him. But I do have taste and discretion and I do not force people and frankly, Raphael, it's none of your fucking business who I sleep with."

"As Professor, actually, it is."

"No, it isn't," Miniel shouted, and hadn't known he was shouting until he heard it. "It's my business and the other person's business and I'm not a fucking whore and I don't care if you get me expelled, I'm not going to pretend to be one just because you expect it!"

Raphael's lewd smile relaxed into a soft, pleased one. "Good. I'm glad to hear that."

Miniel gaped like a landed fish.

"And no, it isn't my business, and whoever you do end up with at whatever time, I have no right to say anything except 'I hope you find happiness, however long, however short.'"

Miniel shut his mouth, with effort.

Raphael smiled and put a gently hand on Miniel's shoulder. "I'm just glad you know it," he said, and walked off.

Months passed.

"We're getting way too close to deadline," Uriel said finally, looking up from Cassiel's journal.

Miniel sighed. "It's just so... they're so UNCOOPERATIVE."

Uriel nodded. "This is just getting nowhere. No matter what information we gather, we just can't seem to..."

"We should do it together," Cassiel said.

Uriel paused, mind catching up from his half-sentence. "Pardon?"

"We're going down individually. I mean, we're sharing notes but... it's not enough," Cassiel muttered, apparently embarrassed. "I mean, we were assigned to the same room, right? Assigned on the same exam. We should be working together more. It's like the three of us happen to be researching the same topic, not like... not like three people whose fates depend on each other."

The boy's words dropped into silence.

"That's what we are, aren't we?" Cassiel said finally, with a plaintive, nearly desperate tone. "People who need each other for this?"

Uriel stared at him, then glanced at Miniel to see him staring at Cassiel in the same way. He grinned slightly, rueful. "You're right," he said.

Miniel nodded, after a moment. "Let's all go down to the Palentine together tomorrow, then."

"Yes." Cassiel was looking down, apparently having trouble meeting either of their eyes.

"Tomorrow," Uriel heard himself echo, awkward, and met Miniel's eyes again. There was that same guarded look there that Uriel knew was in his own; neither of them were good at depending on anyone. People weren't dependable, both of them knew that.

Still, it looked as if they were going to have to try. Uriel was damned before he'd back down from anything, however much it frightened him.

Cassiel rose after a moment and gathered up their books, putting them away in a pile and Uriel watched Cassiel's robes swish around his ankles until his attention was drawn away by strong hands turning his face for a kiss.

He let his eyes close, kissed back, focusing on the swirl of tongues and the heat of Miniel's mouth. Tomorrow was tomorrow, it wasn't today yet, and today they could still pretend independence and safety.

Miniel murmured something against Uriel's lips, a low buzz, and slightly cooled fingers slipped under Uriel's vest to brush and tighten nipples.

Oh lord, I need this, Uriel thought, pulling Miniel closer, rising to his knees to grind against his roommate. He couldn't say that, couldn't say I need, so he just murmured a "Come here," and tugged at Miniel's hips.

Teeth grazed on Uriel's bottom lip, tugging, and Uriel panted into Miniel's mouth. He pulled back to breathe after a moment, still grinding gently, swaying, in promising foreplay but past the blond sheen of Miniel's hair he saw Cassiel, paused in the act of gathering books up, watching them.

Perhaps it was stress, sudden nervous tension watching that inexpression on Cassiel's face, but Uriel opened his mouth and found himself grinning and saying, "Hey, wanna join in?" Sure, he knew that Cassiel would turn and run but it was better, far better than that blank considering expression.

"I've never done anything like that before," Cassiel said forcefully, and Miniel peeled himself away slightly to also peer back over his shoulder at Cassiel, startled by the intensity in their roommate's words.

Uriel felt like a heel. "Yeah, I know, Cass. Sorry, I was just..."

"So you'll have to help me a little," Cassiel continued, stepping over some of the mess in their room and walking closer. "Or I'll embarrass myself somehow."

Somehow, Uriel was sure that the dumbfounded look he knew was on his face wasn't very attractive. "...huh?"

"I trust you," Cassiel whispered, coming to a stop beside them and, with a look of almost terrified fascination, reached out to run his hands through their hair, left hand on Miniel's shoulder-length blond locks, right hand twining into Uriel's own dark hair.

Cassiel had a mantra. It tended to change based on what he was feeling at a given moment. Right now, it was what am I doing, what am I doing, what am I doing?!?

They were still just staring at him. He squeezed his eyes shut quickly once. What's the worst that can happen? Well, they can reject me, refuse to have anything to do with me, we can all three flunk the exam and be kicked out of the School. Okay, yes. That's a big worse, yes.

What am I doing?

Somebody's hand touched his face and he jumped, heart pounding, eyes wide and saw Miniel at the end of the arm, smiling ruefully.

"Cass, we appreciate it, really," Miniel said. "But--"

Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes.

"But I think I speak for both of us when I say--"

Shit shit SHIT.

"That I don't think you should be offering something that's this important to you just for the sake of solidarity."

Cassiel stared at him.

Uriel nodded. "No matter what, we'll work with you and, hell, care for you, you've been a good friend to both of us and we can hope to be the same. But I didn't even know you liked guys, and--"

"What do you know?" Cassiel muttered. For it is death.

"Wrong approach," Miniel said, smacking Uriel lightly in the arm. "What he MEANT to say is don't do anything you don't want. We'd welcome you, but not if it's going to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"What do you know?" Cassiel said again, let his hand that was on Miniel's hair slip down to brush over his lips.

Automatically -- it must be automatically -- Miniel let his tongue flick out, sucked a finger in.

It wasn't fair that that small thing could feel so good, that he could live so terrified for most of his life and have this feel so good.

Uriel rose and he jumped again, finding it hard to breathe, but Uriel just tugged him close in an embrace, just a simple hug, holding him.

"It's okay," Uriel said, and damn if he wasn't perceptive after all.

"I know," Cassiel managed to say. "I just haven't done this before."

There was a delicate pause as Miniel thoroughly fellated Cassiel's fingers.

"With anyone?" Uriel asked finally.

"Um..." Cassiel had to turn his head away, unable to watch what Miniel was doing with tongue and lips and teeth.

"With girls?" Uriel insisted quietly.

He buried his face in Uriel's shoulder to hide his expression because he wasn't sure what it was, fear, embarrassment, want. "A couple, uh, failed attempts with girls," he muttered, too embarrassed to explain farther.

Miniel let Cassiel's fingers slip from his mouth with a popping sound and Cassiel let his hand fall to his side, unsure of whether it was proper etiquette to wipe his hand. If there was a proper etiquette in situations like these...

Smiling a little, Miniel leaned against Cassiel to kiss Uriel and it was warm there, between them. Miniel pulled back after a moment and, from the vaguely constipated look on Uriel's face, they were sharing some kind of mindspeech. Cassiel had learned fast that Uriel wasn't very good at mindspeech yet.

Unsure, suddenly feeling left out, Cassiel said "Is it okay?" He realized how stupid he could have been here, just because they both liked open sex and just because he'd decided he was willing didn't mean that they'd want him...

"It's okay," Uriel murmured back, and leaned down to lick Cassiel's ear.

Cassiel felt his lips form a startled 'oh'. He twisted uncertainly, because really that shouldn't have felt nice, and gasped when Miniel leaned forward again, pushing against him, this time to kiss Cassiel.

Nice, he thought vaguely, allowing himself to put his arms around Miniel's neck, hearing himself making little noises like startlement against Miniel's hot wet mouth.

He wanted to move his hips and stilled, embarrassed, before deciding in a sudden rush, no, this isn't a place to be shy, and he moaned aloud, relaxing in an instant so he sagged bonelessly against Uriel.

Miniel followed Cassiel down as Uriel sank to the ground supporting the boy. He kissed that pale neck, heard a gasp, thought oh well, and bit lightly, swirling his tongue over the mark he left.

"I don't know what --" he heard Cassiel murmur between gasps, and heard Uriel's answer,

"Trust Miniel. He'll know what you're ready for, even if you don't. He's talented like that."

Miniel tossed Uriel a mock-irritated glance, but that was one of his old abilities from life he didn't mind using.

He lowered his mouth gently onto Cassiel's and inhaled, pulling at Cassiel's sexual line of tension until it connected them lightly, dipping slightly into Cassiel's thoughts as he went.

Fear, fear, men have been killed for less but we're already dead, aren't we? And here it's safe, here nobody would be punished for sexuality, for touching with intent, here gender means nothing and it feels good, so good, and still fear, I want, I fear to give, I want.

Fair enough, he wouldn't push for too much, then. This was the boy's first time, anyway, it should be about him.

Smiling gently at the rather-flushed Cassiel, Miniel deftly undid Cassiel's belt, let his two layers of robes fall open, first brown then white, and underneath Cassiel was wearing a pair of thin white pants.

Miniel put his hand on the bulge of Cassiel's erection and rubbed lightly, little more than a shift of his hand.

The result was as electric as he'd expected, Cassiel arching, one hand reaching up to tangle in one of Uriel's braids, letting out a quiet groan.

Uriel wrapped his arms around Cassiel's torso, hands and fingers wandering.

Pulses spiked along the line of sexual tension and Miniel considered his next move. The boy was close. No wonder, either, at his age and having never had sex. No foreplay, then.

Gently, he tugged Cassiel's pants down to his thighs, gave Cassiel a quick reassuring grin, and slipped his mouth down over Cassiel's erection.

The noise Cassiel made could have been an aborted shriek.

He sought out the technique that Cassiel responded best to and stuck with that. Cassiel's hips jerked in a strained way, as if he were preventing himself from doing more.

He pulled back all the way and smiled at Cassiel. "You can move, you know." He didn't wait for an answer before going down again.

"You'll choke," Cassiel gasped at him in a strangled voice.

Uriel chuckled. "Cass, the day Miniel chokes, the stars will stop their movement and the earth will crack in two."

~Fuck you,~ Miniel thought pleasantly in Uriel's direction.

It didn't take Cassiel long after that and Miniel leaned up after to put a hand on the boy's heaving chest, to smile down sweetly, kiss, and release the sexual link. "Okay?" he asked, still smiling.

"Nng," Cassiel said, or something like that.

Miniel pushed himself up on one elbow to look at Uriel, who was still supporting Cassiel. He gave Uriel a look that he hoped communicated the appropriate amount of blueness of his balls.

Uriel grinned. "Top or bottom, Min?"

"Bottom," Miniel answered, shifting over Cassiel to snuggle up to Uriel. "I'm not going to last a minute if I'm top."

"Pity." Uriel rolled a little, shucking clothing, and Miniel fumbled, suddenly frantic, with his own clothing.

They finished at about the same time and tangled together, kissing open-mouthed, already ready, and Miniel had just pulled back for air when he heard Cassiel's quiet murmur,

"No, please, don't leave me."

At those few mournful words, Uriel turned sharply to look at Cassiel and saw, shocked, that Cassiel was crying. "Shit. Cass? You okay, just, you..."

Cassiel nodded, still crying, and managed a "Lonely, don't leave me, please..."

Uriel shared a glance with Miniel and saw impatience there, though not cruel impatience. Just need, really. Uriel could sympathize, but still, they couldn't ignore Cassiel in this state. "What can we do?" Uriel asked aloud. "What do you want?"

~To be held!~

The mind voice exploded at both of them, tinged with fear, a feeling of abandonment.

Well, shit.

"We don't want to ignore you," Miniel said.

"I'm sorry," Cassiel said aloud, scrubbing at his eyes. "I didn't mean... I mean...I didn't..."

Uriel lay down beside Cassiel, uncertain, and Cassiel seized Uriel's near hand desperately, squeezing a little too tight.

Miniel leaned down, murmured in Uriel's ear, "Lay on your back."

Uriel couldn't keep himself from raising his eyebrows, but complied anyway, still holding Cassiel's hand. Cassiel curled onto his side towards Uriel, his robes trailing to cover him slightly as his arms were still through the sleeves.

Carefully, Uriel reached out with his other hand and brushed Cassiel's tears away. Cassiel smiled uncertainly at him.

Uriel jerked when Miniel slicked a preparatory hand over him, opened his mouth to comment, but was unable to do more than wheeze out a long gust of air as Miniel straddled him.

Miniel was still for a moment, then took Cassiel's free hand and Uriel watched him twine their fingers together, so that they each held one of the boy's hands.

"See, Cass?" Miniel murmured, voice low and thick with sex, moving slightly so that Uriel couldn't add anything, just gasp. And Miniel was still talking, meeting Cassiel's eyes as he moved. "We're here. We're here with you."

When Cassiel woke, he was cuddled tight between the two of them, Miniel spooned against him from behind, one arm slung over their hips, one of Uriel's braids laying on Cassiel's neck.

He closed his eyes again, wanting for a moment to disbelieve, but here was contentment, really. He was warm, he was cuddled. Safe.

He opened his eyes again and smiled slightly up at the ceiling. For a moment, he wanted to speak, to give thanks to them both but he remained silent, smiling, because if he spoke now, they'd wake and have to get up for the day.

And it was quiet here, content.

An afternoon nap was just the thing, really.

They'd been down all morning, and Miniel had come back for a rest, the others chiding him for being out in the sun too long. Among the locals, tensions were running high. The air crackled down there, and without a doubt it was going to be soon.

The three of them had taken to calling it the Week of Reckoning, sure that sometime within the week the tension would break and it would be time for them to act.

It would be nice if they had a plan, really, but free will meant that they really couldn't predict things well enough to plan. They'd have to be on their toes.

So sleep now, and toes later.

He'd just closed his eyes, he was SURE he'd JUST closed his eyes, when he woke to somebody shaking his shoulder frantically.

"What, what?" he asked, trying to sit up and check the time simultaneously. "What time is it?"

"It's now," Cassiel said, and Miniel had a scathing reply all set up for that one, but then the meaning sunk in and he was out of bed, grabbing up loose trousers and bell-strewn girdle and shoulder-cloak.

"Why now?" Miniel asked.

"Hurry," Cassiel said.

Uriel stood on the plain that would logically be the battlefield, and peered first in one direction and then the other.

He knelt after a moment and ran his hands through the tall dry grass. He could taste in the atmosphere that it had not rained for a while, this dry hot summer, and the grass was suffering for want.

"You will be watered soon, if all goes poorly," he murmured to the dirt.

There was a flash as Cassiel keyed in with Miniel, and he rose from his half-crouch, letting the grass slide between his fingers.

"Okay," Cassiel said quietly, taking charge with a calm assurance as if he'd been born to it, as if they had never seen him indecisive before. "Uriel, you're the warrior out of three of us. Tactics?"

"Theirs, you mean?" Uriel clarified and, getting a nod, said, "It's going to be pretty basic. Some calvary, bowmen, and a greater number of infantry, with a few siege weapons on the Etruscan side. For the Latins, pretty much just infantry. The Etruscans outnumber the Latins by about three to one."

Miniel cursed. "It's going to be bloody."

"That," Cassiel said, "is what we're going to try to prevent. Is there a single decision-maker for each side?"

Uriel nodded. "They both work on a hierarchical chain of command, with a general in charge of each army."

"Good," Cassiel said, and sighed, youthful face exhausted. "I'll go see if I can't convince the Latin general to calm down and be willing to bargain. Miniel, can you do the same for the Etruscans?"

Miniel pointed at himself in apparent disbelief. "I'm not good at talking to anyone--"

"You're great at temptation," Cassiel said. "And frankly, the Latins are no challenge for the Etruscans; they were just too much of a temptation not to conquer."

Anger. Uriel turned on Cassiel. "Are you suggesting he sleep with the Etruscan general in order to get him to agree to a truce?"

That met with a blank look that slowly changed to horror. "Oh... GOD no, Uriel. Miniel, I didn't mean... I just..."

"Actually," Miniel said, "You never know. That might do the job."

Uriel stared at Miniel, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Desire's one thing, Min. But you mustn't whore yourself just for--"

"Whore?" Miniel said. "Who said anything about whoring? I'm not going to sell myself for any kind of personal gain. I'll just do what I can, use whatever abilities I can."

Uriel closed his eyes, feeling something akin to pain, and rubbed at a sudden headache. "And me?" he asked Cassiel.

"Stay here and make sure none of the soldiers start anything rash. If anyone can stop them, it's you," Cassiel said.

Uriel nodded and watched them consider things silently for a moment before heading off towards the opposite camps. He sighed and sat in the field, feeling small. Strain was making his back burn and he worked his arms to try to ease the tension.

The dry grass crackled as he shifted and he stared up at the sky, willing clouds to move in.

His name was Gaius Bibulus.

He was a relatively young man, but looked old after too much worry, his blond hair slowly turning white at the temples, his trimmed beard already there. He had wrinkles around his lips but not his eyes.

The tent flap had not been pushed aside but when he looked up again a young man was standing there. The youth had a look as though he had been standing there a long time, possibly all afternoon. Superstitious, it reminded Bibulus of the way he'd been feeling that somebody had been watching him. He'd put it down to nerves at the time, but was no longer so sure.

The youth was wearing foreign clothing and had a peaceful look on his face that Bibulus was not used to. It seemed too, when Bibulus looked at him from the corner of his eye, that he had a light coming from his head.

Bibulus thought, I don't need this. I'm a farmer, not a soldier or a priest. He did, however, manage to keep his voice relatively steady as he asked "Are you a god?"

The youth looked startled, then smiled. "No, but it could be fair to say that I am a messenger of a sort."

Shakily, Bibulus smoothed down the front of his tunic. "I, uh. See." This was absurd. Yet it was happening, so he managed, "And what is your message?"

"That if you fight the Etruscans, your people will die."

Bibulus sighed, painfully aware of that issue already. "If we do not, we will die a coward's death. Our city, it turns out, is on an Etruscan trading route. They will not give it up so that we can survive. That is not human nature."

The youth smiled a small, sad smile. "Let us talk."

Throughout the afternoon, Arac began to suspect he was being stalked.

Among preparing soldiers, he'd catch the glimpse of blond hair, or soft blue clothes, a colour not usually seen on his soldiers. But when he turned to look, the figure would be gone. And he'd go on his way and his duty, arguing tactics with his subcommanders, and would suddenly hear bells over the sound of men and women arming themselves.

It happened again just as he was handing his orders to a high-ranking female subcommander. She had finished her daily exercises and was pulling on her clothing which was a bit of a pity, really, for naked one could see her exquisite musculature while clothed she seemed like any other woman.

She was nodding, listening, and he saw a blue-clad blond figure out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned, the figure was gone again. Ani shook her head at him and told him to do something about his pre-battle nerves, leaving him to protest his innocence.

He retreated to his tent when night fell and lay there with his sword under the covers, breathing quietly, eyes closed.

Sure enough, after not too long he heard the sound of bells. He felt someone come close and swung with his sword.

"Sorry," a male voice said. "I rather have to concentrate for you to touch me."

Arac struck again at where he knew the voice was coming from and again, hit nothing. Cursing, he rolled and lit his lantern.

Kneeling by his bedroll was a man, with beautiful gold skin and blond hair falling straight to his chin. He was wearing a blue half-cloak that came over his shoulders down to just below his pectoral muscles, and loose blue pants belted with a girdle. Both the hem of the cloak and the girdle were embroidered with flat coins that rang like bells as the man moved.

"Who are you?" Arac asked shortly.

"A dream. A hope. Does it matter? I'm here."

"What do you want?"

"What do you want?"

He rubbed his forehead and examined the man again. The garments were vaguely Babylonian in style. "You're foreign."

That seemed amusing to the intruder. "I was, yes."

Trying the word out, Arac said, "A ghost."

"Well." A deliberating pause. "I am dead, at least."

Ah. Arac knew he shouldn't have neglected to put his wineglass constantly on his left side. It had been said to cause the dead to appear, though he'd never had that trouble before.

"How can I appease you?" he asked carefully, which seemed to amuse his visitor more.

"Can I dance for you?"

That seemed innocuous enough and didn't involve any sacrifice of small children. He nodded, tentatively.

Arac had seen prostitutes dance before.

This was no common whore's dance.

The ghost's shoulder-garment jingled as he raised his arms slightly out to his side and seemed to listen for a moment.

Shoulders shifted without imput from the waist and again, that jingling.

Arms flung out and the body was in movement.

It was hard, Arac found, to track where arms were at a given moment. They seemed to catch the reflection of the lantern flame and shine as the ghost span, leaving trails of flame behind.

It wasn't bells, but it sounded like it, like the ringing of a chorus, his dance producing the music he was dancing to. A paradox in motion.

The shoulder-garment would spin up and flash chest for a moment while legs and arms wove patterns in the air, while a hip would move and change the entire alignment of the body, gold flashing on muscles as they moved, dancing too.

And those loose blue pants would show, briefly, a thigh pressed here, calf there, buttock, and, Great Tinia, an erection and whatever reason he could not be touched, this could not be a dead man and be so full of life.

And the music rang, rang, and stopped.

The ghost -- man, ghost, it did not matter, stopped, standing so close to Arac that they might well be touching. The spirit looked down at Arac with blue eyes that seemed to glow with an inner light.

Arac licked his lips, found his body burning, his breath short.

A brilliant smile, and the spirit knelt to cup Arac's face in his hands and he could feel it, it was warm.

"How did you do that?" he asked, and his voice wasn't louder than a whisper though he tried to make it be.

Eyelashes lowered with modesty. "It is a gift from Inanna."

Yes, he'd been right, Babylonian. "Our goddess of that kind is Turan."

The spirit smiled peacefully. "They're the same thing."

Uriel waited.

Night fell, after a while. It was cooler, though not yet cold. He watched the stars; they were like a sea.

Cold, though, in more ways than the wind. A broad plain, between two armies.

He pulled his knees to his chest, for warmth.

After a while, Cassiel came over from the Latin side. He took a look at Uriel and sat too, also looking up at the stars.

"And?"

"And he's agreed to talk with the Etruscan general if the Etruscan's willing to talk to him."

Uriel was silent. He wanted to say "I hope Miniel can do it, then," but that wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair that Miniel become a whore again for this. It was too expensive for the exam.

"Do you think it's okay?" Cassiel asked finally.

Uriel almost turned and snapped something about whose fault it would be if Miniel weren't, but then he saw Cassiel's face. Young. Sometimes Uriel forgot how young Cassiel was. He was young and tired and near tears.

Carefully, Uriel put his arm around Cassiel and tugged his roommate close, tucking Cassiel's head into the crook of his neck. "He'll be fine," Uriel said finally. "If anyone's good at being fine, Miniel is."

Cassiel stayed like that for a while, trying not to cry, shivering. He was tired, tired. He didn't dare sleep. This was scary. It was very scary.

After a while, Uriel gently pushed him off his shoulder and rose, looking up at the sky another moment. "Well," Uriel said, "I'd better get busy.

Cassiel shivered and pulled his knees up to his chest, unconciously mirroring Uriel's earlier pose. "Busy? Doing what?"

"Wait and see. Let it be grand melodrama if it has to be. Melodrama's effective for a reason."

Still shivering, too tired to move, Cassiel watched Uriel head off into Roma. Within the hour, Uriel was back with an armful of cloth and poles. Without stopping to talk, Uriel headed off into the Etruscan city.

It was very nearly dawn when he got back and dumped another armful. "Well?" Uriel asked with a forced cheerfulness. "Help me?

Cassiel stared at it, and slowly, comprehension dawned.

Miniel rolled over and murmured, "What's your name?"

"Arac," the Etruscan general said, reaching out to touch Miniel's cheek. His hand passed through.

"Arac," Miniel said, and smiled. "It's almost dawn. Soon, I must go."

Fist clenching on air, Arac said, "Why?"

"Why go?"

"Why all this?"

Miniel rolled onto his back and pretended to think of it, for all that he'd had an answer ready, had held onto the answer the whole time. Had made love to that answer.

"Because," he said, "There is love in all things, living, dead, in different cultures. In different gods. Because when you pare it down, it's all the same thing. I have the gift of a goddess, but whose goddess? Or god for that matter? I am dead, yet I have life. Can you deny that?"

Arac shook his head.

"Today you go to war with a people struggling to live, to become a culture of their own. And why?"

"Trade," Arac said promptly.

"And why?" Miniel insisted. "Why not a truce? Why not anything? Instead, is there to be death in the place of life?"

Arac was silent.

"Go at noon," Miniel murmured. "It has been forseen that the Latin general will try one last time to make a peace treaty.

"I see," Arac said, voice guarded.

It hurt, and Miniel rose and pulled on clothing. "The sun is rising. I must go."

"Will I ever see you again?" Arac asked.

Miniel smiled, and he knew it was twisted with sadness, in a way, because he couldn't give an answer. "Life is unpredictable," he said finally.

"Let me see you again," Arac said, and Miniel closed his eyes in pain and allowed himself to become invisible.

He watched as Arac rose and paced the tent, checking, then sat down and put his head in his hands and sighed.

Miniel walked out through the tent wall and towards the battlefield.

It was noon.

The tent had been a matter of confusion to both camps, since neither had known where it had come from, a tent for negotiation with material from both camps. The Etruscans, always superstitious, had declared it a miracle and the Latins were oddly tightlipped about the whole thing.

Gaius Bibulus and Arac had secluded themselves in there an hour earlier. After some debate about which of them was best to listen in, Cassiel had snuck after as he was less awkward at mindspeech than Uriel and besides, he'd wanted to give Uriel and Miniel a chance to reassure each other.

One arm tight around Miniel, Uriel watched the armies stirring uncomfortably, lined up ready for battle, for a general to return and give the call, or worse, to not return.

Uriel could remember that horrible anticipation of waiting to die. This wasn't quite as bad, but there were similarities.

Finally, the generals stepped out of the tent, followed by Cassiel who only Uriel and Miniel could see.

The two generals looked out at their armies, and Arac raised a hand.

The armies stirred.

Someone in the Etruscan army drew his sword and the sunlight glinted off of it before the clouds rolled in and covered the sun.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as the armies drew breath, ready to charge at that outrage, that break of the fragile peace.

Uriel felt despair well up. So this is where it all fell apart. Where it all ceased to matter. Where they'd fought so much and tried so hard and it wouldn't matter.

People who didn't have to die would die.

The grass would be watered with blood yet again, as grass always was.

Friend would betray friend to save their own hide, the stench of intestines would roil in the air. He could remember the crash of battle. Crash. The sound of sword on sword.

It shouldn't be happening now! Not when they tried so hard!

It wasn't fair!

Something welled up inside him, like bloodlust of the old days, like the entire to rip the very stream of life apart with his fingernails, let blood rush over his face. He pushed Miniel away, nearly afraid of himself, determined to not destroy his friend at least, because that was what was inside him, destruction.

Miniel hit the dry grass, and Uriel tossed his head back and screamed.

Lightning crashed down and hit the man with his sword drawn. A half-scream and the scent of burned flesh and hair, and there was nothing left, really, nothing worth speaking of.

It was a perfect hit. The people on either side hadn't even been singed.

Time resumed its pace. There was a rushing noise, the sound of both armies releasing their breath at once.

The generals, frozen in spot, glanced at each other once and then returned to their armies.

Uriel watched, numb, as the armies both withdrew to their own cities.

He stared up at the clouds that had gathered and caught the first drop of rain on his cheek.

Cassiel had never thought that it would be so blessedly wonderful to come home.

They'd gotten back and taken one look at their three bunks, one look at each other, and just climbed into the same bed, huddled together as if they were still cold, a little wet yet from the rain that had rushed down to soak the grass.

Curled on Uriel's far side, Cassiel was quietly telling the events that had happened in the tent. It was more a summary than anything, though; he wasn't up to more and he doubted the others were, either. "...it's a fairly unusual arrangement, but brilliant, really. The Latins will still technically own the city of Roma, but the Etruscans will rule from behind the scenes. The Latins will remain "Romans", nobody will die, and the Etruscans will have their trading route."

"Genius," Miniel said, ruffling Uriel's hair with one hand. Uriel made an exhausted protesting noise.

They were silent a moment, cuddled together like a litter of puppies.

"And when," Miniel asked, "do we find out how we did?"

"A month, you know that. We had six months, and everything was over in five."

Miniel made a face. Cassiel would have laughed if he weren't so tired. "It doesn't matter, Miniel. Can anybody doubt how we did?"

Uriel murmured something that sounded vaguely like, "He's got a point."

After a wordless agreement, Miniel said, "Cass?"

"Yeah?" He stretched his arm over Uriel to pet Miniel's hair.

"You know, we've gotten a bit of a reputation. I believe I heard Raphael call us the Terrible Trio last week."

Cassiel giggled exhaustedly. Uriel gave a snort.

"You know what else?"

Cassiel KNEW he was going to start laughing soon and wouldn't be able to stop. "What?" he said, giggly.

"We got an entire month to celebrate and, you know, live up to that title. The baths were only the start."

Cassiel attempted to bite laughter back, but it was no good, and he couldn't stop laughing even when Uriel rolled over in protest and muffled him with a pillow.

After a week, Miniel found out that the others had given their borrowed Keys back. He hesitated, then went to Raphael.

"My lord Raphael?"

Raphael smiled at him fondly. "Yes?"

"Can I have the Key for a few more hours yet? There's something I need to do."

Raphael looked at him and smiled. "Yes," he said.

He keyed down in that plain, oddly enough on the patch of burned ground. It took him some time, now that the Etruscans were no longer in military quarters, but he did eventually find out where to go.

He waited, looking up at the window, and sure enough, Arac appeared at the window after a while.

Miniel smiled and flickered into visibility.

Arac opened his mouth, but Miniel just waved his hand in a salute before vanishing again.

He did, however, wait to see Arac smile before he headed back.

"Did it go well?" Raphael asked.

"Yes, my lord," Miniel said, and smiled.

"Good," Raphael said. "You're just in time to bail your roommates out."

Miniel hesitated. "...bail?"

"Yes. Bail. And while you're at it, you can help them get those undergarments down from the Tower."

There was a graduation ceremony this year. There wasn't every year. Uriel had heard that in emergency circumstances, the gift was transferred to the graduating students immediately, without necessarily anyone around to see. And other years, there were no graduates.

There were five this year, and the three of them were included.

They stood proudly, waiting. Miniel crossed first and took the scroll. Uriel watched as his friend's back arched and wings pulled themselves free, scattering feathers under the watchful eyes of the teachers, administration, and gathered students. Clearly aware of his audience, Miniel tossed his hair and flared his wings before sashaying off. Uriel had no idea how Miniel had learned balance so soon.

Cassiel was next, and he was trembling, wide-eyed as he crossed. When his wings emerged, he began to cry, covering his face with his small hands so that he crumpled the paper. Uriel thought he heard Raphael murmur, "Appropriate." Cassiel didn't seem to be able to take a step, so Miniel came back and guided Cass slowly to the far side of the stage.

Uriel took a deep breath and climbed the steps. He didn't look at the students as he went but at the staff and froze, actually stumbling a little, when he got a good look at exactly who stepped forward to hand Uriel his scroll.

The Metatron, in elabourate robes that scintillated colour as he walked, hair down, a queen's ransom in jewels in his ears.

Uriel wondered, briefly, if he should run, but silver eyes met his with amusement rather than outrage, and, suddenly relaxed, he took the Metatron's hand and shook it, unable to stop himself from doing something ludicrous, really, and then sweet burning like pain in his back and his wings shook free.

He'd been right about the balance but somehow he made it across the stage.

Miniel and Cassiel were looking at their scrolls, now that Cassiel had dried his tears, and Miniel's eyebrow winged. "Apparently, I'm the Angel of Lust," he said.

Mimicking Raphael's tone, Uriel said, "Appropriate."

"Angel of Tears," Cassiel said, and laughed a little.

Uriel unrolled his and froze for a moment at the curly writing there that denoted his position. "Angel of Wrath," he said, or he thought he said. He couldn't hear his voice.

They looked at him with concern and he managed to pull himself together again, let the scroll roll up, and smiled at them. "We're here," he said.

Raphael stepped forward when the others had passed. "Traditionally," he said, "I'm supposed to make a speech now. But when all's over, really, the results speak for themselves. Here they are now; just imagine how far they'll have gone tomorrow."

Applause, thunderous, though whether for the sentiment or the shortness of Raphael's address, Uriel wasn't sure.

One of the other graduates had thrown his arms in the air, and the fifth was crying and laughing at the same time.

Uriel looked at his roommates and tugged them near. "Wanna see if three people can tongue-kiss at the same time?" he suggested.

They smiled, and did.