Chuck glared at the flower press. He frowned and pushed at the wings of the screws and even grunted a little, but they wouldn't budge. "Dammit, Michael—you closed these too tight!" He let out an exasperated breath and continued his attempt to loosen the wingnuts. They, in turn, continued to remain absolutely fast. Chuck gave up after a few seconds, hand sore, and sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He glowered at Michael.

Michael snorted and moved over to the table. "All you needed was to ask for assistance." He sat beside Chuck, smiling slightly, as if laughing at some little joke inside his brain, and took the press from the smaller man's hands. "I'm willing to open it." He twisted each wingnuts until they popped off, and lifted away the top board to reveal the flattened, dried out flowers. Soft pink. He barely brushed a finger across one.

"Do you have someplace you'd like to put them?"

Chuck shrugged.

Shaking his head, Michael stood. He disappeared into the hallway for a minute or so. Made rustling noises. From the sound of things, he nearly dropped something. But he emerged from the hall unscathed with a little box in his arms. He set it on the table and said, "I'm not entirely certain where this is from or when we acquired it, but I remembered we own it."

He took the lid off the shoebox. There were some tubes of paint inside. A few square glass bottles. Glaze and the like. Some little polygonal glass sheets and metallic tape of some kind.

"I think it's a prism-making kit—not the paint, obviously. But some of it." He took out two sheets of the clear glass or plastic. They were identical, and diamond-shaped, with beveled edges. About the size of Chuck's hand if he squeezed his fingers together.

Michael pulled out his phone—somehow, despite being an angel, he'd roped Chuck into buying him an iPhone—and tapped at it a few times. Googled how to make suncatchers. When he seemed satisfied, he pocketed his phone and rummaged around in the box.

Together, Chuck and Michael ended up pasting the two little pressed flowers onto the flat side of one of the glass diamonds, and they covered the flowers with rice paper. Used a diluted concoction of glue to hold the glass together.

While the glue dried, Michael made lemonade. He put extra sugar in Chuck's.

Chuck wrapped the metal tape around the edges of the joined glass. He sipped at his lemonade and frowned.

"How are we gonna hang this? There's no... Well, there's no hole."

"Oh." Michael tapped the tabletop beside the (somewhat crude-looking, to be honest) suncatcher. He hummed. "We could probably use the copper tape to make... eyelets, of a sort." He fiddled with the crystal and the tape. He made very careful loops with it on the top corner of the diamond, and frowned while he worked. Eventually he seemed satisfied, with a little hole to hang the piece. He held it up. "Either we hang it on a ribbon or we nail it to the wall."

Chuck went to find a stray ribbon.

Eventually, the beveled glass diamond hung in the window, from an organza ribbon the color of champagne. It glinted in the sunlight, and sent tiny rainbows to play on the far wall of the living room. It bounced a little, when the front door slammed, and the rainbows danced. It swung lightly. Lucifer walked into the room, and paused in the doorway.

He grinned.

"You guys are so domestic. It's disgusting."

Chuck scowled at him.

Lucifer laughed and walked over to give them both a kiss on the cheek. He stood between them, and wrapped an arm around each of their waists, and muttered, "I guess it's kind of pretty."

Michael pinched him.