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[ There are enough practice rooms to choose from, so to let the forensics team work undisturbed, the detective and her partner took him aside, two doors down, far enough away that everything has quietened down somewhat in here, big window panels with a view of the courtyards, curiously empty, but then again - a murder did just happen here. Elio's hands are still freezing cold, he couldn't play like this. They wanted to know his whereabouts this morning (staff room since eight, home until then, he had a visit from a plumber around six), his relationship to the deceased (Marcella, he was her piano teacher and mentor, if they ask around they'll hear rumors about them being romantically involved, it's gossip) and whether he could think of anyone who'd hurt her (it's a competitive environment and she was very, very talented, meaning anyone). The detective then asked when he last saw her alive and Elio ends up telling her, truthfully, that they'd had a late night practice session the day before. How they had, uncharacteristically, hugged each other goodbye when they parted ways. He's glad they did, now, even if it weren't perhaps wholly appropriate.
The consultant hadn't said much, but at one point he'd stared Elio down, his features wide and slightly inhumane to look at in all their perfect symmetry and asked him what it was he desired. Managing an uncertain smile, Elio had stared back into the dark depths of the man's eyes, then looked to the detective. Is this relevant, he'd replied. It felt like a come-on. A come-on out of time and place, obviously, but no different from someone wanting you to take your clothes off. The detective had told him she'd need him to stay in town and to be available for further questions. The school had told him to go home and take a couple of sick days.
Now he's shrugging into his jacket, a couple of feet away from the large Steinway grand in the middle of the room, checking through his backpack with hands that are shaking slightly, making ready to do just that. The gossip about Marcella and him is going to explode, he knows. Until the case is solved, someone's bound to think it's related to him. Maybe even that he did it. He frowns, zips up his bag, back still turned to the door.
He recited the Kaddish for her. It's the only detail he left out. ]
The consultant hadn't said much, but at one point he'd stared Elio down, his features wide and slightly inhumane to look at in all their perfect symmetry and asked him what it was he desired. Managing an uncertain smile, Elio had stared back into the dark depths of the man's eyes, then looked to the detective. Is this relevant, he'd replied. It felt like a come-on. A come-on out of time and place, obviously, but no different from someone wanting you to take your clothes off. The detective had told him she'd need him to stay in town and to be available for further questions. The school had told him to go home and take a couple of sick days.
Now he's shrugging into his jacket, a couple of feet away from the large Steinway grand in the middle of the room, checking through his backpack with hands that are shaking slightly, making ready to do just that. The gossip about Marcella and him is going to explode, he knows. Until the case is solved, someone's bound to think it's related to him. Maybe even that he did it. He frowns, zips up his bag, back still turned to the door.
He recited the Kaddish for her. It's the only detail he left out. ]
[ So, something is clearly not as it ought to be and the Detective's looking at him like she thinks he's done something deliberately to off-set himself which, well, he obviously wouldn't. At least, not today. He thinks about the look in the other man's eyes, how he'd looked so... untouched, maybe politely confused, just... insufferably normal. That's never happened before. Why would it happen now? First, he's vulnerable and also, consequently, kill-able around the Detective, now he's losing his mojo in the face of a seemingly random piano twink?
What?
No, seriously. What?
We need to start interviewing, says Chloe, frowning at her phone. Faculty first, narrow down the list of suspects. Family, too. She looks at him expectantly like she thinks he isn't going right back inside that room to set things straight. Really. Like she doesn't know him at all. ]
Yes, good luck with that. [ He nods towards the room. ] I'll be right back.
[ She splutters something in protest but he overhears her, barging into the practice room and shutting the door behind him firmly. The other man's on the verge of leaving, it seems, and Lucifer strides right up to him, pausing a feet or two away and saying, eyebrows raised and smile in place: ]
Where do you think you're off to?
What?
No, seriously. What?
We need to start interviewing, says Chloe, frowning at her phone. Faculty first, narrow down the list of suspects. Family, too. She looks at him expectantly like she thinks he isn't going right back inside that room to set things straight. Really. Like she doesn't know him at all. ]
Yes, good luck with that. [ He nods towards the room. ] I'll be right back.
[ She splutters something in protest but he overhears her, barging into the practice room and shutting the door behind him firmly. The other man's on the verge of leaving, it seems, and Lucifer strides right up to him, pausing a feet or two away and saying, eyebrows raised and smile in place: ]
Where do you think you're off to?
[ They've walked for some thirty minutes when Lucifer, because that's the name he's chosen for himself apparently, as the Devil in LA, full of Christian and popular cultural annotations, makes a stop at a coffee shop on a corner off one of the main streets. It's a high-end shop, the kind Elio loves but doesn't frequent, because he has no Michel in LA to buy his food for him. Lucifer makes him wait outside, doesn't tell him not to run, but Elio suspects it's subtext at this point. They're heading to the precinct, because they need him in custody, the police. For some reason, he isn't exactly being let in on many details here. Still a suspect, yes?
A suspect left alone on a street in downtown LA.
Lucifer doesn't seem all that concerned with protocol. Elio can't quite figure out what it is that he's concerned about, actually. Elio's desires that few people have cared about before. That he still hasn't divulged, unlike the girl in the hallway, hazy-eyed and entranced. When Lucifer looks at him with those eyes, he just sees a lot of depth and a lot of darkness.
Whatever that means.
Leaning against a streetlamp, keeping his weight on his heels and slouching a little, hands in his pockets, he suddenly looks forward to a good cup of macchiato. He hasn't had one of those in months. It felt like a weird kind of treat to ask of a literal stranger, really. A stranger who happens to be the Devil, too, but Elio has honestly had worse things happen to him before. He leans his head back, looks up at the facades of the tall buildings on all sides. The view is different around here. He likes it. ]
A suspect left alone on a street in downtown LA.
Lucifer doesn't seem all that concerned with protocol. Elio can't quite figure out what it is that he's concerned about, actually. Elio's desires that few people have cared about before. That he still hasn't divulged, unlike the girl in the hallway, hazy-eyed and entranced. When Lucifer looks at him with those eyes, he just sees a lot of depth and a lot of darkness.
Whatever that means.
Leaning against a streetlamp, keeping his weight on his heels and slouching a little, hands in his pockets, he suddenly looks forward to a good cup of macchiato. He hasn't had one of those in months. It felt like a weird kind of treat to ask of a literal stranger, really. A stranger who happens to be the Devil, too, but Elio has honestly had worse things happen to him before. He leans his head back, looks up at the facades of the tall buildings on all sides. The view is different around here. He likes it. ]
[ He comes back out with two cups of coffee, one macchiato and one 10-percent-coffee-90-percent-Scotch because he knows the guy who owns the café and more importantly, he knows Lucifer. Smiling politely, he hands Elio his cup and sets off down the street. It's bustling with life, the noise of heavy traffic mixing with the sounds of people, humanity and it's quite possibly one of his favourite soundtracks in the whole universe. Not humans, per se, but the life they bring, the sense of activity, of movement. Heaven's incredibly dull in comparison and Hell... ?
Well. Hell's obviously Hell.
He's had no further texts from the Detective since they left, his phone quiet in his pocket. He thinks about Mum, stuck on Earth in a human's body. By rights, Dad shouldn't even give a second thought to that, should he, after all, punishment is Lucifer's god-given assignment. Ought to... trust his judgment and all that. Maybe even stop messing with his life, let him do as he bloody well pleases for once?
Ugh.
Like that's ever going to happen. ]
So, Elio.
[ He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed. ]
Did you feel nothing at all, back when I asked about your desires? Not even the slightest little urge or inclination to spill your deepest secrets? A pull, a tickle, anything?
Well. Hell's obviously Hell.
He's had no further texts from the Detective since they left, his phone quiet in his pocket. He thinks about Mum, stuck on Earth in a human's body. By rights, Dad shouldn't even give a second thought to that, should he, after all, punishment is Lucifer's god-given assignment. Ought to... trust his judgment and all that. Maybe even stop messing with his life, let him do as he bloody well pleases for once?
Ugh.
Like that's ever going to happen. ]
So, Elio.
[ He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed. ]
Did you feel nothing at all, back when I asked about your desires? Not even the slightest little urge or inclination to spill your deepest secrets? A pull, a tickle, anything?
[ It's a bright and sunny, early afternoon, close to 1 PM and the balcony's bated in sunbeams, the dark granite tiles glittering faintly in the light. Lucifer's waiting outside by the glass railing, sans suit jacket, a glass of Scotch between his fingers. Elio's grabbing a shower as well as a quick change of clothes; Lucifer's been by outside the bathroom door, telling him to drop by the balcony once he's finished freshening up.
On the table next to him, aside from another glass of Scotch, there's a basket full of luxury toilet accessories that Elio won't have any use for right this moment, seeing as he's chosen to go with those absolutely horrid standard guest materials from the precinct. But if nothing else, it's the principle of the thing - you can't leave his penthouse, looking and smelling like you'd suffered a motel sleepover. It's just not done.
He sips his Scotch, gaze sliding out across the cityscape. Somewhere down there, his Mum's busy with Charlotte Richard's old life. Children. A husband. And the Detective's working on Elio's case - alone, as it were - she'd given him quite a knowing look when he'd insisted on housing the other man for the duration of the investigation. And well, she's absolutely right. He'll definitely have to sleep with him, preferably as soon as possible. Just to make sure.
He's even gone as far as to test his mojo on the Douche before going back here because if there was ever any man capable of resisting Lucifer's charms - but no. Man's craving another round of chocolate pudding to absolutely no one's surprise and then, he'd had the audacity to get tetchy about it afterwards. Ugh, honestly. ]
On the table next to him, aside from another glass of Scotch, there's a basket full of luxury toilet accessories that Elio won't have any use for right this moment, seeing as he's chosen to go with those absolutely horrid standard guest materials from the precinct. But if nothing else, it's the principle of the thing - you can't leave his penthouse, looking and smelling like you'd suffered a motel sleepover. It's just not done.
He sips his Scotch, gaze sliding out across the cityscape. Somewhere down there, his Mum's busy with Charlotte Richard's old life. Children. A husband. And the Detective's working on Elio's case - alone, as it were - she'd given him quite a knowing look when he'd insisted on housing the other man for the duration of the investigation. And well, she's absolutely right. He'll definitely have to sleep with him, preferably as soon as possible. Just to make sure.
He's even gone as far as to test his mojo on the Douche before going back here because if there was ever any man capable of resisting Lucifer's charms - but no. Man's craving another round of chocolate pudding to absolutely no one's surprise and then, he'd had the audacity to get tetchy about it afterwards. Ugh, honestly. ]
[ Elio brings the bag with him as per Lucifer's request, now half-empty, because the pants and the shirt were a third of the contents, really. Bare-footed, he pads through Lucifer's living room like he belonged there which is not actually the case. This is a stranger's home. The other man's got a stranger's face, though Elio thinks he's studied it closely enough now to recognize it easily. Lucifer's charismatic, too. Charming. Traits you remember. Even so, he'll still only be here until the investigation's been able to establish who murdered Marcella, so that he is no longer in danger of getting the same treatment. He suspects they might need more than one little travel bag for that duration of time, however, these things can take time, right?
The other man had said to find him on the balcony, and Elio spots him through the vast window panels overlooking the big outdoor space and heads out, the dark tiles reflecting the early afternoon sun in glimpses of light and gold. Things have been laid out for him, obviously, the table next to Lucifer showing a display of more Scotch and a basket of toilet accessories that will make the next couple of showers Elio takes in this place fit the rest of the interior. Luxurious. Decadent. Rich. He puts the bag down next to the table before leaning against the glass railing, suddenly grateful he isn't afraid of heights. ]
What a view.
[ He looks out over the LA skyline for a moment, before turning his head to glance at the other man instead. ]
The other man had said to find him on the balcony, and Elio spots him through the vast window panels overlooking the big outdoor space and heads out, the dark tiles reflecting the early afternoon sun in glimpses of light and gold. Things have been laid out for him, obviously, the table next to Lucifer showing a display of more Scotch and a basket of toilet accessories that will make the next couple of showers Elio takes in this place fit the rest of the interior. Luxurious. Decadent. Rich. He puts the bag down next to the table before leaning against the glass railing, suddenly grateful he isn't afraid of heights. ]
What a view.
[ He looks out over the LA skyline for a moment, before turning his head to glance at the other man instead. ]
[ Beethoven is still echoing at the back of his mind, as if the Devil had jimmied with it, but it's not Beethoven he's playing now, sitting at the large grand in the middle of Lux where the woman that Lucifer made his bodyguard has put him on display - stay here where I can see you, she'd said, but Elio's noticed she's currently occupied behind the bar, apparently having sex, so he can't say how much she actually sees. Enough, you'd think. He hopes. He doesn't actually want to get killed now of all times.
Things might be confusing him, eluding him, saddening him, but things are also making him feel more alive than he has in years. Even if Marcella's bloodied face still holds its very own ghost spot in his memory, and Elio knows she'll probably live on there for a while to come. He doesn't like it, but he accepts it regardless. He carries greater ghosts with him, he isn't afraid of remembering her, not even like that.
He's been playing for hours at this point, a few breaks to go to the bathroom, but otherwise he's run through his whole arsenal of jazz standards, improvised versions of songs people have requested and the requesting doesn't seem to let up anytime soon. Two minutes ago, a nice girl in a party dress, never too early for those, he'd told her, had asked him to play some Britney Spears for her. What era are we talking, he'd asked, letting her know he knew his Britney. Toxic, she'd replied and he's reaching the crescendo of that one as the room buzzes and breathes.
The nightclub is surprisingly full, considering the time of day. LA, like the humans inhabiting it, likes its life! as much as the Parisians like theirs, the Italians. Anywhere Elio's ever lived, really. People are the same. They like music. They like golden hues.
He likes that someone's giving it to them. ]
Things might be confusing him, eluding him, saddening him, but things are also making him feel more alive than he has in years. Even if Marcella's bloodied face still holds its very own ghost spot in his memory, and Elio knows she'll probably live on there for a while to come. He doesn't like it, but he accepts it regardless. He carries greater ghosts with him, he isn't afraid of remembering her, not even like that.
He's been playing for hours at this point, a few breaks to go to the bathroom, but otherwise he's run through his whole arsenal of jazz standards, improvised versions of songs people have requested and the requesting doesn't seem to let up anytime soon. Two minutes ago, a nice girl in a party dress, never too early for those, he'd told her, had asked him to play some Britney Spears for her. What era are we talking, he'd asked, letting her know he knew his Britney. Toxic, she'd replied and he's reaching the crescendo of that one as the room buzzes and breathes.
The nightclub is surprisingly full, considering the time of day. LA, like the humans inhabiting it, likes its life! as much as the Parisians like theirs, the Italians. Anywhere Elio's ever lived, really. People are the same. They like music. They like golden hues.
He likes that someone's giving it to them. ]
[ As he enters the club, someone's doing a perfectly jazzy rendition of Britney Spears' Toxic and Lucifer smiles automatically, wiggling a bit on his way towards the bar. The first thing that tips him off that something's not as it should be, however, is Maze on her back on the floor behind the counter, Patrick giving her a workover that he definitely isn't getting paid for in his normal salary. Lucifer stares. Blinks. Then, as if in slow-motion, he turns and looks towards the piano where, yes, sure enough. Elio, performing his secret heart out and that's all well and good if he wasn't, you know, supposed to be safe upstairs, guarded by - ugh, honestly. Exasperated, Lucifer grabs the drink that someone not-Patrick hands him from the side, turning away from Maze's impromptu pornography session to watch.
And listens, chin tilted very slightly.
Elio certainly looks freer like this, immersed in his artistry of choice and surrounded by listeners. He's doing a very cute rendition of this song, truth be told - Lucifer's hips are certainly jamming a little to the beat here - and it's almost enough to forget that he might very well be in pretty serious danger at the moment. They haven't managed to catch the serial killer but they've found the lead they were missing, a string of deleted messages from the victim's inbox, pointing in the direction of a contact they hadn't been aware of until now. A very suspicious contact, not related to the music school in any way whatsoever. They're working on tracking him down now.
Murder might be related to jealousy and seeing as rumour goes, Elio's been playing around in more ways than one with the victim, he might easily be next. So obviously, Lucifer should not be standing here, bobbing along to the other man's music - right, no, no, bad. Very bad. Downing his Scotch quickly, he heads over to the piano and leans against it, waiting for the other man to finish what he's started, his fingers tapping against the lid because, well, it's music. It's good. It's wonderful. What's he supposed to do? ]
And listens, chin tilted very slightly.
Elio certainly looks freer like this, immersed in his artistry of choice and surrounded by listeners. He's doing a very cute rendition of this song, truth be told - Lucifer's hips are certainly jamming a little to the beat here - and it's almost enough to forget that he might very well be in pretty serious danger at the moment. They haven't managed to catch the serial killer but they've found the lead they were missing, a string of deleted messages from the victim's inbox, pointing in the direction of a contact they hadn't been aware of until now. A very suspicious contact, not related to the music school in any way whatsoever. They're working on tracking him down now.
Murder might be related to jealousy and seeing as rumour goes, Elio's been playing around in more ways than one with the victim, he might easily be next. So obviously, Lucifer should not be standing here, bobbing along to the other man's music - right, no, no, bad. Very bad. Downing his Scotch quickly, he heads over to the piano and leans against it, waiting for the other man to finish what he's started, his fingers tapping against the lid because, well, it's music. It's good. It's wonderful. What's he supposed to do? ]
[ It's almost midnight. No news have dropped in about an arrest, so Elio is still in Lucifer's penthouse and he certainly isn't complaining about that. Not when the toilet articles from earlier have been moved to the bathroom, put out for him as he made ready for bed. Lucifer urged him to go through his routines first, from a look you'd think it was because his own take longer. Besides a shower, using shampoos and soaps that all smelled like chamomile and brought him straight back to Italy, Elio's been given an expensive brand pajamas, flannel, dark red, that fits him to a T and makes him feel weirdly warm and cared for. He thinks to himself, as he exits the bathroom, his mouth zinging with the taste of mint, that necessity can be something to strive for, when this is necessity, right? If nothing else, necessity can be quite alluring.
While Lucifer finishes up, and it does take a while, Elio walks around his living room for a bit, drinking a glass of water and just trying to settle the day in his mind. It feels like longer, but then again, he knows from experience, six weeks can feel like a lifetime, so a day might as well be a month or an eternity. It all depends on... the company.
Standing by the windows, taking in the view, the lights of LA by night, Elio exhales long and hard. As the night has progressed, he's gone through cycles of instant regret that he didn't just tell the other man yes, let's fuck, let's lose ourselves in each other, followed by an immediate wave of nausea at the mere thought. Not doing it, obviously, not the sex, but the consequences. The unknown factor. He drinks another mouthful of water, it's just half a glass, so he won't need to go during the night and bites his lip. The couch has been done up with a pillow and a thick, rich blanket that feels as much like care as the PJs.
Care is a theme here. He'll miss the view when he'll eventually have to return to his own apartment, his old life. ]
While Lucifer finishes up, and it does take a while, Elio walks around his living room for a bit, drinking a glass of water and just trying to settle the day in his mind. It feels like longer, but then again, he knows from experience, six weeks can feel like a lifetime, so a day might as well be a month or an eternity. It all depends on... the company.
Standing by the windows, taking in the view, the lights of LA by night, Elio exhales long and hard. As the night has progressed, he's gone through cycles of instant regret that he didn't just tell the other man yes, let's fuck, let's lose ourselves in each other, followed by an immediate wave of nausea at the mere thought. Not doing it, obviously, not the sex, but the consequences. The unknown factor. He drinks another mouthful of water, it's just half a glass, so he won't need to go during the night and bites his lip. The couch has been done up with a pillow and a thick, rich blanket that feels as much like care as the PJs.
Care is a theme here. He'll miss the view when he'll eventually have to return to his own apartment, his old life. ]
[ Lucifer finishes up in the bathroom, drying off and pulling on his pajama bottoms, silky and dark-green, made from the kind of fabric that flitters around his legs when he moves. His hair's wet from the shower, still, cleaned of gel, the longer strands sticking down like bangs over his forehead. He calls the Detective who's working through a bunch of files from home, her mind locked on the case and its intricacies with the single-mindedness of a hound, chasing a fox through the undergrowth. Nothing for them to do together, however, before tomorrow morning. He doesn't tell her to go to bed, wouldn't dream of it - it's not what she wants, after all. Instead, he orders a serving of burgers and fries to her home address without asking and leaves his phone in the bedroom, volume on.
He pads into the living room, bare-footed, wearing only his bottoms because if nothing else, if Elio insists upon keeping him waiting and keeping himself waiting, he might as well know exactly what he's denying himself. The other man's standing by the windows, taking in the views from the top - a long fall, he'd said, and the more Lucifer gets to know about him, the more it makes sense that he'd think of it like that, that he'd choose to verbalize it.
Pausing next to him, maintaining just enough distance between their bodies to keep them from physically touching, Lucifer looks up at the sky. The light pollution over LA is quite extreme and even on a clear night, like now, the stars look matted and incidental. Drowned out. He doesn't mind, of course. He's brought the light with him all the way to the dance floor several stories below them and humans, well, they lit their own paths in turn.
If he wanted to stare into the past, he'd go for the mountain-dwelling hermit-life, probably. ]
He pads into the living room, bare-footed, wearing only his bottoms because if nothing else, if Elio insists upon keeping him waiting and keeping himself waiting, he might as well know exactly what he's denying himself. The other man's standing by the windows, taking in the views from the top - a long fall, he'd said, and the more Lucifer gets to know about him, the more it makes sense that he'd think of it like that, that he'd choose to verbalize it.
Pausing next to him, maintaining just enough distance between their bodies to keep them from physically touching, Lucifer looks up at the sky. The light pollution over LA is quite extreme and even on a clear night, like now, the stars look matted and incidental. Drowned out. He doesn't mind, of course. He's brought the light with him all the way to the dance floor several stories below them and humans, well, they lit their own paths in turn.
If he wanted to stare into the past, he'd go for the mountain-dwelling hermit-life, probably. ]
You're up for Saturday at Lux! 10.30 PM until midnight, drinks on the house. If you have other plans, please cancel them - our schedule is quite packed and I had to move things around a bit for you.
Did you honestly think I would have other plans, though, Lucifer?
[ It's a sprawling Saturday night at Lux and Lucifer's coming back from dropping off Amenadiel with the help of Dan-the-Cop who'd looked downright fetching with his brother's spilled drinks all over his shirt. Like he'd had a bit of fun in his life, you know, actual fun, as opposed to watching re-runs of the Bachelor and Queer Eye, please. Hell, he's such a cohesive douche. Greeting a few regulars with smiles and handshakes, Lucifer makes his way through the crowd, the music loud and the beat pulsing. He catches the eye of a stunning blonde, feeling her gaze on his back all the way to the bar. Mm. She'll catch up to him, he's got no doubts.
Right now, he's a bit preoccupied locating the guest of the evening, sweet Elio, who's certainly worked his magic tonight, keeping his guests entertained. Lucifer knows because he's had his assistant manager, Caroline, keeping him updated throughout the evening. Good for a repeat performance she'd written around a quarter to midnight. Crowd loves him. Unsurprising, that.
He's a hard one not to love.
Lucifer slides onto the barstool next to Elio, who's seated by the bar, having a drink on the house. Hopefully not his first. Smiling broadly, he leans in and says, keeping his voice loud enough to be heard over the music: ]
Beautiful job, darling, I'm sorry I missed it.
Right now, he's a bit preoccupied locating the guest of the evening, sweet Elio, who's certainly worked his magic tonight, keeping his guests entertained. Lucifer knows because he's had his assistant manager, Caroline, keeping him updated throughout the evening. Good for a repeat performance she'd written around a quarter to midnight. Crowd loves him. Unsurprising, that.
He's a hard one not to love.
Lucifer slides onto the barstool next to Elio, who's seated by the bar, having a drink on the house. Hopefully not his first. Smiling broadly, he leans in and says, keeping his voice loud enough to be heard over the music: ]
Beautiful job, darling, I'm sorry I missed it.
[ Lux is much more intense than the piano bars he's worked before, the atmosphere pulsing from a strong current of people milling by, loud voices, laughing, bodies moving, Elio's pretty sure he's seen drugs being dealt and even if not, there's alcohol enough to go around, sex is subtext here. The place feels like an extension of the man owning it, really, and being invited inside is probably all the more special for it.
He won't ask, but he might wonder.
He's straight off the piano, finishing the evening with a fast-paced, upbeat jazz rendition of Umbrella, sitting at the bar now and having his second or third, depending on definition, glass of Scotch of the night, as alone as you can get at Lux, he imagines, a couple of girls already having been by to chat, thank him for the music. Elio has been all smiles, accepting a phone number, two, and giving nothing in return. Right this moment, though, it's just him - Or, well. Until a second ago, when Lucifer slid onto the barstool next to his, it was just him and his drink. Elio feels the other man leaning in in order to be heard over the music, his voice reverberating in his ear in that particular pitch it has that he really likes. It penetrates. It goes right in.
The smile comes naturally, because Lucifer is smiling, and Elio leans in as well, simultaneously turning towards him enough that their knees bump. They're both in designer suits tonight, because Elio's donned his performance wear, less formal that the Ritz-Carlton would've required, just a black linen suit, white shirt, no tie. ]
Ask me back, and you'll have another chance.
[ His tone is light, doesn't presume anything aside from his own personal wish to share the spotlight again, wasn't that how Lucifer had put it? It was, he thinks, and Elio's been happy tonight, doing so. Truly happy. ]
He won't ask, but he might wonder.
He's straight off the piano, finishing the evening with a fast-paced, upbeat jazz rendition of Umbrella, sitting at the bar now and having his second or third, depending on definition, glass of Scotch of the night, as alone as you can get at Lux, he imagines, a couple of girls already having been by to chat, thank him for the music. Elio has been all smiles, accepting a phone number, two, and giving nothing in return. Right this moment, though, it's just him - Or, well. Until a second ago, when Lucifer slid onto the barstool next to his, it was just him and his drink. Elio feels the other man leaning in in order to be heard over the music, his voice reverberating in his ear in that particular pitch it has that he really likes. It penetrates. It goes right in.
The smile comes naturally, because Lucifer is smiling, and Elio leans in as well, simultaneously turning towards him enough that their knees bump. They're both in designer suits tonight, because Elio's donned his performance wear, less formal that the Ritz-Carlton would've required, just a black linen suit, white shirt, no tie. ]
Ask me back, and you'll have another chance.
[ His tone is light, doesn't presume anything aside from his own personal wish to share the spotlight again, wasn't that how Lucifer had put it? It was, he thinks, and Elio's been happy tonight, doing so. Truly happy. ]
[ He hasn't been engaged to play tonight, and nevertheless he's back at Lux, to enjoy a couple of free drinks and take in the atmosphere, feel the beat of another heart than his own for a moment, in the case of the nightclub, it's Lucifer's, right? More importantly, he's here to thank the other man for the apricot tree he sent him a couple of days after the dream, as if he knew, as if he'd seen and Elio will probably ask him tonight, if he drinks just enough to dare and not be stupid about it, whether he does, whether he has, whether he was really there for a brief second. Whether it's something they share.
Having arrived fifteen minutes ago, it's ten PM, midnight fast approaching, he's just had enough time to seat himself at one of the tables and order a Scotch on the rocks. He's also had the time to greet Mimi, the French dancer who'd discovered he speaks her language fluently last time he was here, and be offered a show on the house which he'd declined. What are you here for, then, she'd asked, wriggling her ass in his face. Your boss, he'd replied and she'd laughed as she left him to it. Courage, was her parting answer.
I know, he thought.
It shouldn't be this difficult to pinpoint a taller than average man in a crowd, Elio decides, glancing around, but he's still getting sidetracked by lights and bodies moving, music pumping like blood through veins. Heartbeat, it really is a heartbeat in here. He thinks about Lucifer last time they met, how they parted ways, the man leaving him to his own questions without even a backwards look. It had felt a bit like being written out, of their relation, existence, transitioning from a state of mattering to one of complete and utter unimportance. Oliver had sometimes done the same thing, with his later, hadn't he?
With a frown, Elio shakes his head, pushing the thought away as he finally catches a glimpse of broad shoulders, expensive suit, dark hair, a circle of women around him somewhere on his right. Oh. A moment of hesitation and he decides to just try his luck, taking a long drink of his tumbler before making his way over, pushing through the gathered crowd without much force. ]
Having arrived fifteen minutes ago, it's ten PM, midnight fast approaching, he's just had enough time to seat himself at one of the tables and order a Scotch on the rocks. He's also had the time to greet Mimi, the French dancer who'd discovered he speaks her language fluently last time he was here, and be offered a show on the house which he'd declined. What are you here for, then, she'd asked, wriggling her ass in his face. Your boss, he'd replied and she'd laughed as she left him to it. Courage, was her parting answer.
I know, he thought.
It shouldn't be this difficult to pinpoint a taller than average man in a crowd, Elio decides, glancing around, but he's still getting sidetracked by lights and bodies moving, music pumping like blood through veins. Heartbeat, it really is a heartbeat in here. He thinks about Lucifer last time they met, how they parted ways, the man leaving him to his own questions without even a backwards look. It had felt a bit like being written out, of their relation, existence, transitioning from a state of mattering to one of complete and utter unimportance. Oliver had sometimes done the same thing, with his later, hadn't he?
With a frown, Elio shakes his head, pushing the thought away as he finally catches a glimpse of broad shoulders, expensive suit, dark hair, a circle of women around him somewhere on his right. Oh. A moment of hesitation and he decides to just try his luck, taking a long drink of his tumbler before making his way over, pushing through the gathered crowd without much force. ]
[ He's finished sending the good Doctor on her way because party poopers aren't allowed in his vicinity tonight, the King's spoken and you can fucking well bow to that. He empties his shot glass like he's emptied all the others that have gone before, the three lovely ladies by the bar following his lead, their laughter running like metal gears, a little bit shrill, a little bit odd. It had felt like pushing a heated blade through hot butter when he'd pushed Azrael's Blade into Uriel's gut. There's been a sort of wet, sucking sound, squelching, kind of, and he's never killed anyone before, it's just... very peculiar. These details. The way they flitter about inside his head, like flies on a rotten slab of meat.
Just, bzz, bzz, bzz. Buzzing.
He gets another shot and downs it while the ladies draw away, shifting out of his field of vision. He forgets about them instantly. Doesn't matter. They aren't really here, anyway. Leaning against the bar in a complete slouch, the buttons on his shirt undone and his vest holding it all together because nothing else is currently doing that job, Lucifer lets his gaze glide over the dance floor. Full of shadows, this place, dancing and spinning and bouncing off the walls. Uriel hadn't expected him to do that, he'd said. I didn't see that coming. Despite everything, he hadn't thought nearly lowly enough of him, apparently.
He blinks. Sees someone familiar making his way through the crowd and grins, holding up his shot glass in greeting and yelling over the music: ]
Elio! How good of you to come - there's some great tequila on the menu tonight.
Just, bzz, bzz, bzz. Buzzing.
He gets another shot and downs it while the ladies draw away, shifting out of his field of vision. He forgets about them instantly. Doesn't matter. They aren't really here, anyway. Leaning against the bar in a complete slouch, the buttons on his shirt undone and his vest holding it all together because nothing else is currently doing that job, Lucifer lets his gaze glide over the dance floor. Full of shadows, this place, dancing and spinning and bouncing off the walls. Uriel hadn't expected him to do that, he'd said. I didn't see that coming. Despite everything, he hadn't thought nearly lowly enough of him, apparently.
He blinks. Sees someone familiar making his way through the crowd and grins, holding up his shot glass in greeting and yelling over the music: ]
Elio! How good of you to come - there's some great tequila on the menu tonight.
[ He parks his car along the street and gets out, walking the small remaining distance until he's right in front of Elio's front door. It's a relatively standard apartment complex with small studio apartments, the ground floor ones cheap by LA standards which, honestly, doesn't say too much. It's late enough in the evening for the shadows to feel at least somewhat solid, the sky dark and overcast. Lucifer thinks about the Doctor, about the empty terror in her eyes and the silence, the total, utter silence in the room after he'd... well. He hurt her, didn't he. He can't keep doing this to people.
He just isn't sure what he's doing wrong or how to stop. Possibly, it's a flaw in his very design and not just your normal, God-given flaw (because his dad has a sense of humour, everyone must suffer). It's the kind of thing that rots, progressively, and with Lucifer being a bloody immortal, who knows how far the degradation will go? What'll he be, by the end of it?
He's been staring at Elio's doorbell for more than a minute. There's something weird and dog-like sitting next to it - too metallic to be a dog, obviously, wait, oh, oh, it's - does it have wheels? It's not a unicycle, surely. He stares at it dumbly, blinking against the overhead light. Refocuses.
He could still leave.
But leaving wouldn't make a difference.
Face impassive, he rings the bell. ]
He just isn't sure what he's doing wrong or how to stop. Possibly, it's a flaw in his very design and not just your normal, God-given flaw (because his dad has a sense of humour, everyone must suffer). It's the kind of thing that rots, progressively, and with Lucifer being a bloody immortal, who knows how far the degradation will go? What'll he be, by the end of it?
He's been staring at Elio's doorbell for more than a minute. There's something weird and dog-like sitting next to it - too metallic to be a dog, obviously, wait, oh, oh, it's - does it have wheels? It's not a unicycle, surely. He stares at it dumbly, blinking against the overhead light. Refocuses.
He could still leave.
But leaving wouldn't make a difference.
Face impassive, he rings the bell. ]
[ He's been going through a handful of transcriptions of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, comparing notations for historical accuracy as well as changes in the piece's various traditions. It's taken him all day, and at this point his bed/couch is full of sheet music and an open laptop with Arrau's version on pause while Elio himself is running through yet another transcription, a fairly modern one, beginner's notations. The adagio resounds between the walls, soft and melancholy while his eyes follow the sheet music, start to finish. His upstairs neighbor who never interacts with him otherwise has stomped the floors four times already. He isn't exactly Mr. Popular right now.
It's not like Elio doesn't know this is pure escapism. It's a way not to think about how Lucifer hasn't called or texted or in any way reached out after their botched one night stand yesterday. Elio's just running through the motions, because the Moonlight Sonata is familiar enough to require very little and so unbearably much of him at the same time, it keeps his head from running in circles. Instead, he can think about how he can't play it like the other man had played it, back at his penthouse. He can't play it like that and Lucifer isn't here. No, Lucifer isn't here, is he?
Two seconds after Elio stops mid-movement, letting his hands sink to his thighs, the doorbell sounds and he frowns, getting up from his sponsored Steinway Model 0 that takes up half his studio apartment. The rest is made up of a corner kitchen with a view of the communal park and somewhere in the middle, his impractical sleeping arrangements. The walls are lined with bookshelves, all full of music theory, history and a broad selection of classic literature. He crosses the room to the door, thinking it might be Hernandez who's finally gotten sick of him. It's getting late, he supposes. Not that he had really noticed. Today's been a blur.
Opening the door slowly, glancing out the crack just to be sure Hernandez hasn't brought something to beat his ass with, he stops for all of a second before throwing it open completely, stepping aside. Oh. ]
I'm really glad to see you, Lucifer. [ Elio smiles, a small smile, just a tug at the corner of his mouth, then cocks his head. ] Please come in.
It's not like Elio doesn't know this is pure escapism. It's a way not to think about how Lucifer hasn't called or texted or in any way reached out after their botched one night stand yesterday. Elio's just running through the motions, because the Moonlight Sonata is familiar enough to require very little and so unbearably much of him at the same time, it keeps his head from running in circles. Instead, he can think about how he can't play it like the other man had played it, back at his penthouse. He can't play it like that and Lucifer isn't here. No, Lucifer isn't here, is he?
Two seconds after Elio stops mid-movement, letting his hands sink to his thighs, the doorbell sounds and he frowns, getting up from his sponsored Steinway Model 0 that takes up half his studio apartment. The rest is made up of a corner kitchen with a view of the communal park and somewhere in the middle, his impractical sleeping arrangements. The walls are lined with bookshelves, all full of music theory, history and a broad selection of classic literature. He crosses the room to the door, thinking it might be Hernandez who's finally gotten sick of him. It's getting late, he supposes. Not that he had really noticed. Today's been a blur.
Opening the door slowly, glancing out the crack just to be sure Hernandez hasn't brought something to beat his ass with, he stops for all of a second before throwing it open completely, stepping aside. Oh. ]
I'm really glad to see you, Lucifer. [ Elio smiles, a small smile, just a tug at the corner of his mouth, then cocks his head. ] Please come in.
Darling, I've realised - you can't actually live where you live. It's inexcusable. It's basically vile.
Not yet. There are rumors that a former student of mine from the Paris Conservatory will be doing her first US tour in half a year's time. I'll know more soon.
I promise she's worth the wait.
I promise she's worth the wait.
[ The sky above LA is reasonably clear tonight. Lucifer knows, of course, that there are countless upon countless of stars, hiding between the visible ones, the city too luminous in itself to allow the light through. He's got one hand on the railing, another on his cigarette, smoke trailing upwards in lazy swirls. Elio's inside, still, amongst the expensive furnishings and the glass walls. Probably, he'll be joining him soon enough, the other man's very good at following, waiting for his cues. A few feet away the apricot tree's blooming in the dark, quietly pretty, the sort of thing you'd always notice in passing.
He died today, went to Hell, came back. The Detective's alright, of course, because no way is he letting a pitiful maniac kill her off just like that, no way is he losing the closest friend he's ever had, one of the very few beings in existence that he... Well. There's simply no way.
It took him a couple of drinks back at home to push the sound of Uriel's stomach bursting open (again and again and again) to the back of his mind. Lips thinning, he inhales another mouthful of smoke. Thinks about Elio, then. About Hell. It's too easy, getting caught up in your own guilt - it's too tempting, like a wound you're leaving to fester just for a chance to poke at it, to watch it seep and feel it burn. He should've known he'd get locked up down there. He's the King of Hell, for crying out loud, if anyone should understand... ]
He died today, went to Hell, came back. The Detective's alright, of course, because no way is he letting a pitiful maniac kill her off just like that, no way is he losing the closest friend he's ever had, one of the very few beings in existence that he... Well. There's simply no way.
It took him a couple of drinks back at home to push the sound of Uriel's stomach bursting open (again and again and again) to the back of his mind. Lips thinning, he inhales another mouthful of smoke. Thinks about Elio, then. About Hell. It's too easy, getting caught up in your own guilt - it's too tempting, like a wound you're leaving to fester just for a chance to poke at it, to watch it seep and feel it burn. He should've known he'd get locked up down there. He's the King of Hell, for crying out loud, if anyone should understand... ]
[ When Lucifer showed up unannounced, he had just let him in without question, because he looked like he'd just awoken from the dead, pretty much. Not for the first time, Elio had then wondered what kind of family he comes from, where you're forced to kill your one brother, the other isn't performing at his best and your mother has to be shipped to another dimension, as far as dysfunctional family units goes, that's still extreme. Cosmic, Elio had thought and watched him as he, wordlessly, had sauntered out onto the balcony where he's standing now, one hand on the railing, fingers of the other balancing his cigarette. He's watching the stars, the few percentages of the night sky you can actually glimpse over LA, even from a vantage point like this. As close as you get without flying.
Elio picks up the two tumblers of Scotch, the expensive Macallan that Michel had brought for him as a housewarming gift, and joins Lucifer on the balcony, crossing the distance between here and there on bare feet. The tiles are still warm from soaking up a whole day's sunlight. ]
Here. [ Holding out one tumbler for the other man, he waits for him to take it before placing himself up against the railing, front against the cityscape, shoulder against Lucifer's. They're touching like that, a soft brush of fabric and skin underneath. Firm muscles, hard bone. They're all of that. The parts that can't easily be broken and the parts that can. ] You look like you might need it.
[ So you're welcome either to drink or to talk to me, it means, Elio pursing his lips as he watches the city lights. Anything goes tonight. ]
Elio picks up the two tumblers of Scotch, the expensive Macallan that Michel had brought for him as a housewarming gift, and joins Lucifer on the balcony, crossing the distance between here and there on bare feet. The tiles are still warm from soaking up a whole day's sunlight. ]
Here. [ Holding out one tumbler for the other man, he waits for him to take it before placing himself up against the railing, front against the cityscape, shoulder against Lucifer's. They're touching like that, a soft brush of fabric and skin underneath. Firm muscles, hard bone. They're all of that. The parts that can't easily be broken and the parts that can. ] You look like you might need it.
[ So you're welcome either to drink or to talk to me, it means, Elio pursing his lips as he watches the city lights. Anything goes tonight. ]
[ He arrives at Lux early, before the nightclub has even officially opened, but they let him in anyway, because they know him, because Lucifer's vouched for him and because, this evening, he's made the trip in vain and someone's probably bound to think that's a right bummer.
Elio stops somewhere off the dance floor and stares at the spot where the piano usually stands proud, finding what looks more like a piece of broken furniture, chopped wood, kindle. It's too broken to really qualify as a piano any longer, the lid smashed and pieces hanging loosely off the case. As a pianist, it's almost physically hurtful to see the kind of damage the poor instrument has suffered - at the same time, all Elio can suddenly think is, is Lucifer okay? He thinks about his mother, headed for another dimension, how he'd felt it necessary to kill his brother. What does a smashed piano mean in a family like that? You have to wonder, so Elio does.
Turning his head, looking for someone to ask for - anything really, one of the bartenders passes him by and pushes a colorful drink into his hand, complete with umbrellas and no doubt an awfully high alcohol percentage. Elio frowns, thinks about drinking it, since he won't need to coordinate his fingers tonight anyway.
Still, he walks over to the nearest table and puts the drink down, searching the floor with his gaze, the stairs, the well-known route to the elevator and Lucifer's penthouse on top of everything. ]
Elio stops somewhere off the dance floor and stares at the spot where the piano usually stands proud, finding what looks more like a piece of broken furniture, chopped wood, kindle. It's too broken to really qualify as a piano any longer, the lid smashed and pieces hanging loosely off the case. As a pianist, it's almost physically hurtful to see the kind of damage the poor instrument has suffered - at the same time, all Elio can suddenly think is, is Lucifer okay? He thinks about his mother, headed for another dimension, how he'd felt it necessary to kill his brother. What does a smashed piano mean in a family like that? You have to wonder, so Elio does.
Turning his head, looking for someone to ask for - anything really, one of the bartenders passes him by and pushes a colorful drink into his hand, complete with umbrellas and no doubt an awfully high alcohol percentage. Elio frowns, thinks about drinking it, since he won't need to coordinate his fingers tonight anyway.
Still, he walks over to the nearest table and puts the drink down, searching the floor with his gaze, the stairs, the well-known route to the elevator and Lucifer's penthouse on top of everything. ]
[ The soreness in his back from landing on and then, consequently, crashing a piano is long gone but despite that, Lucifer's movements are borderline frantic while he gets himself together upstairs, grabbing his keys and taking the elevator down to the bar. He thinks about Linda. About Chloe.
Mum has officially lost it.
Rushing down the stairs as soon as the doors part, he almost manages to pass right by Elio who's sitting by the bar, enjoying Sex on the Beach which is honestly better in practice but you know, he gets it. He's broken up about the piano too. It's been a center piece in here for quite some time. If a colourful drink cheers you up in the face of such mindless destruction, he's certainly not one to judge.
He's just about to head out, maybe with a wink and a wave, then decides against it. Half a minute. He can spare him half a minute. Heading up there, he points towards the piano and shakes his head despairingly. His voice, when he speaks, is thinner than usual. Out of breath. ]
Yes, sorry about that! I'll have it replaced sometime next week, though, don't worry.
Mum has officially lost it.
Rushing down the stairs as soon as the doors part, he almost manages to pass right by Elio who's sitting by the bar, enjoying Sex on the Beach which is honestly better in practice but you know, he gets it. He's broken up about the piano too. It's been a center piece in here for quite some time. If a colourful drink cheers you up in the face of such mindless destruction, he's certainly not one to judge.
He's just about to head out, maybe with a wink and a wave, then decides against it. Half a minute. He can spare him half a minute. Heading up there, he points towards the piano and shakes his head despairingly. His voice, when he speaks, is thinner than usual. Out of breath. ]
Yes, sorry about that! I'll have it replaced sometime next week, though, don't worry.
Edited 2021-08-10 15:28 (UTC)
Darling! Darling, I'm terribly sorry, I should've written you sooner. I'm quite alright!
You didn't die, then. Again. I'm glad.
Edited 2021-08-10 17:05 (UTC)
[ He's sitting at the piano, the huge model B which is still dwarfed somewhat by the sheer size of the living room, it feels like the penthouse is the size of his parents' summer house and full of just as many nooks and corners in which to hide things away. A packet of cigarettes lies broken open on the lid, one of them dangling from between his lips while he plays a too-fast, not-deep-enough rendition of Leonard Cohen's By the Rivers Dark. Really, he just needs to keep moving. The feel of Oliver's skin is still clinging to his fingertips, his scent to Elio's face, wherever he turns his head, he can't escape it. It's not just all the alcohol he's drunk tonight that makes him feel nauseous. Outside, the lights on the balcony are dimmed and golden. Inside, the chandelier's casting him in a harsh, many-faceted light that really shows off his red-rimmed eyes and his pale skin. He's sitting in just his suit pants, shirt still lying abandoned in the middle of the floor, suit jacket by the door, belt somewhere in the middle. Socks and shoes left in the corner. Beneath all that naked chest, he's too much heart, he thinks. Elio draws in a shaky breath and thus, fills his lungs with smoke, it's nice.
An hour after Oliver left, when he'd cried himself empty enough not to care, he'd texted Lucifer. I know you're probably busy, and I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I need you. Please come. Just that. It was three o'clock. He's abandoned his phone on the couch, he doesn't even know if Lucifer replied. Reaching out was the exercise here. Saying what he needed, what he wanted.
Isn't that what the other man wants him to anyway?
Coming to the end of the song, he halts only briefly before continuing in the Cohen repertory, playing the first chords of Hallelujah instead, a half-hearted attempt as he soon needs to reach up, ashing his cigarette off to the side, before catching it between his lips again, keeping the melody up with his other hand. He doesn't smoke very often any longer, but he always has a packet at hand. The same brand, same memories.
Italy in the summer. ]
An hour after Oliver left, when he'd cried himself empty enough not to care, he'd texted Lucifer. I know you're probably busy, and I'm sorry for disturbing you, but I need you. Please come. Just that. It was three o'clock. He's abandoned his phone on the couch, he doesn't even know if Lucifer replied. Reaching out was the exercise here. Saying what he needed, what he wanted.
Isn't that what the other man wants him to anyway?
Coming to the end of the song, he halts only briefly before continuing in the Cohen repertory, playing the first chords of Hallelujah instead, a half-hearted attempt as he soon needs to reach up, ashing his cigarette off to the side, before catching it between his lips again, keeping the melody up with his other hand. He doesn't smoke very often any longer, but he always has a packet at hand. The same brand, same memories.
Italy in the summer. ]
[ Maze came back from Canada, thankfully without whatever weird attachment-issue she was cooking up whilst on her little mission and Lucifer's back in his penthouse, having a drink and in the midst of something that he's pretty certain (but not fully) he's improvising when the message ticks in. He finishes the passage and pauses, sipping his drink with one hand and reading over the text absently. Hm. Hmm. Elio, yes, but at three o'clock in the morning? Aside from his sporadic tendency to feature Lucifer in his dreams and praying to him subconsciously - who does that, it's so strange and adorable - Elio never bothers him at night.
Never bothers anyone, really, he'd wager.
Upon taking in the meaning of the text, however, and everything the other man isn't saying, Lucifer feels his own chest tighten uncomfortably, the Scotch on his tongue tasting suddenly a lot staler than it ought. Concern, he thinks, getting to his feet. This is concern. With a frown, he reaches for his car keys, then pauses.
Well.
Why not, with how bloody unhelpful they are in all other aspects?
With a scowl, he unfurls his wings and takes off, landing on Elio's balcony less than five seconds later. He's wearing his usual suit, minus the jacket. His hair, frankly, could've been better. He runs his hand through it and looks towards the living room, the piano clearly visible through the huge glass windows along with Elio behind it, bare-chested, cigarette smoke lingering in the air around him. Lucifer pauses, lowering his wings slightly. Their inherent light reflects off every available surface around him.
There's something profoundly wrong about the look on Elio's face. ]
Never bothers anyone, really, he'd wager.
Upon taking in the meaning of the text, however, and everything the other man isn't saying, Lucifer feels his own chest tighten uncomfortably, the Scotch on his tongue tasting suddenly a lot staler than it ought. Concern, he thinks, getting to his feet. This is concern. With a frown, he reaches for his car keys, then pauses.
Well.
Why not, with how bloody unhelpful they are in all other aspects?
With a scowl, he unfurls his wings and takes off, landing on Elio's balcony less than five seconds later. He's wearing his usual suit, minus the jacket. His hair, frankly, could've been better. He runs his hand through it and looks towards the living room, the piano clearly visible through the huge glass windows along with Elio behind it, bare-chested, cigarette smoke lingering in the air around him. Lucifer pauses, lowering his wings slightly. Their inherent light reflects off every available surface around him.
There's something profoundly wrong about the look on Elio's face. ]
[ Jack and him are on the fifth day (sixth night) and Elio has been very forth-coming from the get-go, I'm not here to commit, he'd told the other man the first morning they woke up together, I'm waiting for someone, I've just recently decided not to wait on my own. Jack had raised both eyebrows at him, his bed hair all chestnut and soft-looking, so Elio had reached out and run a hand through it, tousled it more while the other man had laughed, his beautiful baritone vibrant and alive that way. Baby, he'd said, no one wants to wait on their own.
And because Elio honestly thinks tonight will be their last night together, he's invited Jack to join him at Lux, where he's been playing until midnight - it's half past twelve now and they're on the dance floor, Jack writhing against him, tall and broad and smelling like the three Dirty Martinis he's already drunk. Tasting like them, too, Elio can tell whenever they kiss, deep, lots of tongue, another guy on their right is giving them long looks, jealous ones. In some ways, Lux is no better than any seedy gay bar in Rome Elio's been to. Elio draws away, nodding towards the stranger and telling Jack to have fun until he returns. Jack laughs again, baritone, beautiful, and kisses him.
Can't believe you got me in here.
Smiling, Elio leaves him to it and moves over to the bar, ordering another Dirty Martini for his date and a Gold Rush shot for himself, the bartenders lining three up, because we like to see you let loose, Perlman. He gets going on the first as soon as it's been mixed, turning around to glance out over the dance floor, Jack neat in the middle and busy snogging the stranger's face off. Elio lowers his shot glass a bit, gaze softening. ]
And because Elio honestly thinks tonight will be their last night together, he's invited Jack to join him at Lux, where he's been playing until midnight - it's half past twelve now and they're on the dance floor, Jack writhing against him, tall and broad and smelling like the three Dirty Martinis he's already drunk. Tasting like them, too, Elio can tell whenever they kiss, deep, lots of tongue, another guy on their right is giving them long looks, jealous ones. In some ways, Lux is no better than any seedy gay bar in Rome Elio's been to. Elio draws away, nodding towards the stranger and telling Jack to have fun until he returns. Jack laughs again, baritone, beautiful, and kisses him.
Can't believe you got me in here.
Smiling, Elio leaves him to it and moves over to the bar, ordering another Dirty Martini for his date and a Gold Rush shot for himself, the bartenders lining three up, because we like to see you let loose, Perlman. He gets going on the first as soon as it's been mixed, turning around to glance out over the dance floor, Jack neat in the middle and busy snogging the stranger's face off. Elio lowers his shot glass a bit, gaze softening. ]
Edited 2021-08-13 18:07 (UTC)
[ The club's pulsing tonight. Lucifer's standing by the railing near the staircase, watching the dance floor none-too-carefully and sipping his Scotch. He's had to turn down five people already, asking for favours - won't do at the moment, what with the Sinnerman (bloody atrocious name, isn't it) playing games with him whenever it suits the bastard. He'll track him down, though, there's no doubt. If the man's who he thinks he is, he's probably meant to, which is just flat-out intolerable but that's how these things go, supposedly. Frowning in irritation, he zones in on the dance floor, the DJ running through a series of pounding 00's rock classics that seem to make the floors and the walls tremble. He licks his lips. Looks over all those writhing, sexually charged bodies and decides yes, tonight's that kind of night.
He hasn't seen Elio since they took that little flight over the Pacific. He thinks about it, though, relatively frequently. It had been... well, it had been beautiful, hadn't it, feeling the other man against him, showing him lights in the darkness. An echo of Lucifer, you might say, but more importantly, something for Elio to latch onto at that specific time and place, something to make him feel a little less lost.
That part, Lucifer liked. Trying to achieve that.
Descending the stairs, he dives right onto the dance floor, slipping through the crowd and bumping hips with men and women alike. Within long, he's in the throng of it all, surrounded by humans and he's got some woman's hands - blonde, huge breasts, Louboutin heels - on his arse and another woman, brunette, pushing up against his side, trying to lick his neck (she's not tall enough to reach, alas, so he cranes to the side a bit, just to be helpful).
Then, the guy in front of him turns towards him, tall and broad and Lucifer smiles at him widely. The other man glides into his personal space like he was meant to go there, slotting their lower bodies together. The lights dance over his chestnut hair and Lucifer pushes up against him, then back against Blonde Girl who's currently draping herself all over his backside.
It's all very sandwich-y. ]
He hasn't seen Elio since they took that little flight over the Pacific. He thinks about it, though, relatively frequently. It had been... well, it had been beautiful, hadn't it, feeling the other man against him, showing him lights in the darkness. An echo of Lucifer, you might say, but more importantly, something for Elio to latch onto at that specific time and place, something to make him feel a little less lost.
That part, Lucifer liked. Trying to achieve that.
Descending the stairs, he dives right onto the dance floor, slipping through the crowd and bumping hips with men and women alike. Within long, he's in the throng of it all, surrounded by humans and he's got some woman's hands - blonde, huge breasts, Louboutin heels - on his arse and another woman, brunette, pushing up against his side, trying to lick his neck (she's not tall enough to reach, alas, so he cranes to the side a bit, just to be helpful).
Then, the guy in front of him turns towards him, tall and broad and Lucifer smiles at him widely. The other man glides into his personal space like he was meant to go there, slotting their lower bodies together. The lights dance over his chestnut hair and Lucifer pushes up against him, then back against Blonde Girl who's currently draping herself all over his backside.
It's all very sandwich-y. ]
[ He's been playing for an hour at this point, a couple of intermissions, but nothing prolonged, Elio hasn't felt the need tonight. He's wanted to move, more than anything, he's wanted to hear himself make some noise, exist in the room, take up space. He said goodbye to Sylvie earlier, they had sex one last time before she had to catch her flight to Houston and he wished her all the best with his lips on her thighs. Neither of them cried bitter tears over it, it felt like a beautiful day to part ways.
Still, he's glad to be back in a place that doesn't change, that doesn't leave or shift out of reach, constantly. Lux reflects Lucifer in many ways, one being that it's probably half a step from immortality, it's that steady, that stable. Elio looks out over the crowd, playing a slightly jazzed-down version of It's Late by Queen, just to fit the hour. Midnight will have come and gone before long, they're hitting the last piano numbers of the night now.
Elio locates the other man easily among the rest of them, it isn't his height, it's all the rest. The darkness to his eyes, the broadness of his features, the openness of his expression. The heat. He can feel it all the way over here, through layers of clothing. Elio is dressed up for the occasion, though most of it's a rerun of the clothes he wore to Sylvie's concert the evening before, only the shirt's new. A light pink to go with the dark gray suit jacket and pants.
Smiling at the other man, the last thought of Sylvie parked along with Jack and whoever will be next, Elio works the keys carefully, hitting the right chords without jimmying too much with it, Queen's got to be recognizable, and thus brings It's Late to an end. It takes a second before the last note dies out and he can reach for his Scotch, placed like Lucifer would have done it on the instrument, like he's playing his coffee table, pretty much.
Sometimes it feels like he is, in here. It feels that homely. ]
Still, he's glad to be back in a place that doesn't change, that doesn't leave or shift out of reach, constantly. Lux reflects Lucifer in many ways, one being that it's probably half a step from immortality, it's that steady, that stable. Elio looks out over the crowd, playing a slightly jazzed-down version of It's Late by Queen, just to fit the hour. Midnight will have come and gone before long, they're hitting the last piano numbers of the night now.
Elio locates the other man easily among the rest of them, it isn't his height, it's all the rest. The darkness to his eyes, the broadness of his features, the openness of his expression. The heat. He can feel it all the way over here, through layers of clothing. Elio is dressed up for the occasion, though most of it's a rerun of the clothes he wore to Sylvie's concert the evening before, only the shirt's new. A light pink to go with the dark gray suit jacket and pants.
Smiling at the other man, the last thought of Sylvie parked along with Jack and whoever will be next, Elio works the keys carefully, hitting the right chords without jimmying too much with it, Queen's got to be recognizable, and thus brings It's Late to an end. It takes a second before the last note dies out and he can reach for his Scotch, placed like Lucifer would have done it on the instrument, like he's playing his coffee table, pretty much.
Sometimes it feels like he is, in here. It feels that homely. ]
[ He's texted the Detective twice tonight, only to receive nothing whatsoever in return, meaning she's still a hundred percent pissed at him for running off with a suspect and torturing him half to death - really, you'd think she'd never met him before. Hopefully, in a few days they'll be back to normal, what with the company she's currently keeping. Pierce. Cain.
Here.
Like Lucifer needed another incentive to spite his father.
Right now, he's taking a break from all of that, watching Elio play from between the shadows, staying off to the side somewhat to allow gusts to pass him on their way to and from the bar. He's not drinking anything as of right now which is clearly a problem - he eyes Elio's Scotch, sitting on the piano all abandoned and half-drunken and makes a split-decision. Slipping up to the stage, he wriggles his hips a little on the way because even in a jazzy get-up, Queen always gets him in his sweet spot, mm, lovely.
Elio gets to the end before he makes it all the way over and then, Lucifer has to simply watch as the Scotch goes down the other man's throat rather than his. Rude. Around them, people applaud, loudly and enthusiastically, someone shouting out encore in a horrid Texan accent. He leans against the piano lazily, eying the keys, then Elio. ]
Make room for the Devil, would you?
[ A nod towards the bench. He's not actually telling the other man to get off it, of course, why would he? Enough keys for the two of them. ]
Here.
Like Lucifer needed another incentive to spite his father.
Right now, he's taking a break from all of that, watching Elio play from between the shadows, staying off to the side somewhat to allow gusts to pass him on their way to and from the bar. He's not drinking anything as of right now which is clearly a problem - he eyes Elio's Scotch, sitting on the piano all abandoned and half-drunken and makes a split-decision. Slipping up to the stage, he wriggles his hips a little on the way because even in a jazzy get-up, Queen always gets him in his sweet spot, mm, lovely.
Elio gets to the end before he makes it all the way over and then, Lucifer has to simply watch as the Scotch goes down the other man's throat rather than his. Rude. Around them, people applaud, loudly and enthusiastically, someone shouting out encore in a horrid Texan accent. He leans against the piano lazily, eying the keys, then Elio. ]
Make room for the Devil, would you?
[ A nod towards the bench. He's not actually telling the other man to get off it, of course, why would he? Enough keys for the two of them. ]
Is there a story behind how you ended up with a British accent? Because I've been running around London all day now and everyone only manages to sound a little bit like you.
It's driving me slightly mad.
It's driving me slightly mad.
It's just a preference, darling. Don't overthink it.
If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine: best memory from Berlin?
Okay, then. When you say best, do you mean most amusing or most memorable because in this case, the difference matters quite a bit.
You have the worst timing, Elio. What the fuck???
Please, Lucifer, I... Surely you can imagine the rest?
[ He's been in town for twelve hours at this point, the last four of which he's spent trying to reach Lucifer. He's only waited this long with acting because he still remembers how it worked out last time he directed his worries at the LAPD and because he isn't actually sure he might not be overreacting due to jet-lag, transit and a couple of sleepless nights. After ten unanswered texts, though, and three phone calls, also unanswered, Elio isn't going to wait around any longer. Something's wrong, Lucifer lets him know when he isn't available as a rule, not as an exception.
That's why he's currently in the elevator leading to the other man's penthouse, Lux at noon a slightly less sorry sight than you'd imagine for a nightclub, where he's waiting for the ascend to end and the doors to ding open.
When they do, he pauses in his tracks, almost long enough for the doors to close right back in his face. Quickly, Elio steps inside the apartment, eyes wide as he looks around. There are feathers everywhere, but more importantly, there are smears and little pools of blood everywhere, too. On the floors, in uneven traces on the walls. Something sinks, down deep, in his stomach. When he calls out, his voice sounds almost fearful. ]
Lucifer?
[ He doesn't ask, are you okay, because evidence points to the contrary, right? ]
That's why he's currently in the elevator leading to the other man's penthouse, Lux at noon a slightly less sorry sight than you'd imagine for a nightclub, where he's waiting for the ascend to end and the doors to ding open.
When they do, he pauses in his tracks, almost long enough for the doors to close right back in his face. Quickly, Elio steps inside the apartment, eyes wide as he looks around. There are feathers everywhere, but more importantly, there are smears and little pools of blood everywhere, too. On the floors, in uneven traces on the walls. Something sinks, down deep, in his stomach. When he calls out, his voice sounds almost fearful. ]
Lucifer?
[ He doesn't ask, are you okay, because evidence points to the contrary, right? ]
[ He awakens to the sound of the elevator doors opening, a spark of alarm igniting instantly. He jerks awake, turning his head stiffly. Being sprawled on his stomach in an ungainly heap of limbs, the motion's inelegant at best - he can actually feel himself drooling against the sheets. His shoulders are more or less locked in place, however, so he can't manage much beyond the slight head-turn, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed in discomfort. He thinks, for a second, that she might have actually returned, that maybe she's here to look in on him, maybe -- but naturally, no, it isn't her, it wouldn't be, because he saw the horror in her eyes. He saw.
Plain, unfiltered terror.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, nauseous to his very core. Then, blinking his eyes open, he re-focuses and realises that Elio's making his way through the apartment, calling out for him and oh, oh, they were supposed to - oh. No. Why would this have to happen now, the other man's been away for ages! Groaning, he struggles up onto his elbows, the sheet sliding down his hips. ]
In here, darling. Sorry.
[ His voice is slightly hoarse. Wincing, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, the muscles in his upper arm and shoulder trembling violently. He checks his messages. Missed calls. So many, most of them from the same person.
Dear Elio. ]
Sorry, I hadn't heard.
Plain, unfiltered terror.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, nauseous to his very core. Then, blinking his eyes open, he re-focuses and realises that Elio's making his way through the apartment, calling out for him and oh, oh, they were supposed to - oh. No. Why would this have to happen now, the other man's been away for ages! Groaning, he struggles up onto his elbows, the sheet sliding down his hips. ]
In here, darling. Sorry.
[ His voice is slightly hoarse. Wincing, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, the muscles in his upper arm and shoulder trembling violently. He checks his messages. Missed calls. So many, most of them from the same person.
Dear Elio. ]
Sorry, I hadn't heard.
[ It's been two hours at least of removing bullets from the upper edge of Lucifer's wings, tweaking them out of the bone where it's broken and shattered and splintered apart. Elio has worked tirelessly, drinking his can of Coke and serving Lucifer several tumblers of Scotch to compensate for the discomfort. Then, at least half an hour of washing his wings off, fixing wayward feathers, making them as shiny and white as they'll be until they've healed properly. Lucifer says it shouldn't be long, he heals rapidly under most circumstances. Elio hasn't asked about the exceptions.
Now, he's put away his equipment, a bowl full of bullets (he's counted them, more than fifty), the tweezers, various sizes, the wet cloth he brought along, now drenched in blood mostly and his empty Coke, it's all been left in the bathroom by the sink, to be taken care of once Lucifer can actually walk again. He's washing his hands now, bits of feathers and a whole lot of caking blood clinging to his fingers, stuck under his nails. He scrubs away for a couple of minutes, before drying off and returning to the bedroom where he left Lucifer after dismounting his back. He looks more relaxed now. A bit less pained.
It's good. It's better. It'll be better.
Elio smiles and stops next to the bed, looking down at him, how he looks fragile almost with his wings out like that. As if someone had pinned them onto a wall for public display. He doesn't voice the thought, it's a bit bizarre, barbaric almost. It doesn't belong between them. Crouching down near Lucifer's head, he folds his arms on the edge of it and rests his chin on his forearms, meeting the other man's eyes, his own soft, caring.
Fond, so fond. ]
You'll be alright. [ If I go, it means. Reaching out, he lifts his head a bit to be able to run his hand through the other man's hair. ] Get some sleep, love.
[ He makes to get up. ]
Now, he's put away his equipment, a bowl full of bullets (he's counted them, more than fifty), the tweezers, various sizes, the wet cloth he brought along, now drenched in blood mostly and his empty Coke, it's all been left in the bathroom by the sink, to be taken care of once Lucifer can actually walk again. He's washing his hands now, bits of feathers and a whole lot of caking blood clinging to his fingers, stuck under his nails. He scrubs away for a couple of minutes, before drying off and returning to the bedroom where he left Lucifer after dismounting his back. He looks more relaxed now. A bit less pained.
It's good. It's better. It'll be better.
Elio smiles and stops next to the bed, looking down at him, how he looks fragile almost with his wings out like that. As if someone had pinned them onto a wall for public display. He doesn't voice the thought, it's a bit bizarre, barbaric almost. It doesn't belong between them. Crouching down near Lucifer's head, he folds his arms on the edge of it and rests his chin on his forearms, meeting the other man's eyes, his own soft, caring.
Fond, so fond. ]
You'll be alright. [ If I go, it means. Reaching out, he lifts his head a bit to be able to run his hand through the other man's hair. ] Get some sleep, love.
[ He makes to get up. ]
[ If he thought he was exhausted before, then his current state of being must be nearby equivalent to the dearly departed. He's breathing, yes, but each intake of air is a lot slower than normal, each exhalation shaky and uneven, trembling past his lips. He's managed to prop his chin onto his arms once he regained enough mobility in his upperbody to cross them by the elbows, his shoulders moving a lot more freely now that his wings are merely broken in a few hundred places, rather than obstructed by metal. It's good. He could probably put them away, too, if he wanted to.
But he doesn't, for some reason.
As Elio crouches down by the bed, he looks into his eyes and lets himself drown, just floating in that warm sea of brown, of crossing shadows and light. He leans into the touch of his fingers through the strands of his hair, craving more of it, of the gentleness. The comfort. He's just had his wings poked and prodded for hours, surely he can be excused. You'll be alright says Elio and love, oh, oh. Eyes watering slightly, stupidly, he blinks roughly, watching as the other man makes to get up. To leave. He could check his phone, probably, see if Chloe - but she hasn't, he's fairly sure. If she wanted to, she would've been here.
Meaning she doesn't.
He'd be very alone, he thinks, in Elio's absence. First of all for the lack of him, secondly for the lack of anyone to fill the resultant emptiness. It's the first time, he realises, that he's actively, consciously put Elio above the rest of them, reducing them to substitutes. It means something. It must.
So he reaches out slowly, curling his hand around Elio's slim wrist. It's a light touch. The other man could break it, with ease. ]
Please.
[ He shifts onto his side and lifts his wing up, indicating the spot next to him on the bed, the mattress cast in shadow. His feathers have started gleaming again from Elio's attentions. In places, they look like gold in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. ]
But he doesn't, for some reason.
As Elio crouches down by the bed, he looks into his eyes and lets himself drown, just floating in that warm sea of brown, of crossing shadows and light. He leans into the touch of his fingers through the strands of his hair, craving more of it, of the gentleness. The comfort. He's just had his wings poked and prodded for hours, surely he can be excused. You'll be alright says Elio and love, oh, oh. Eyes watering slightly, stupidly, he blinks roughly, watching as the other man makes to get up. To leave. He could check his phone, probably, see if Chloe - but she hasn't, he's fairly sure. If she wanted to, she would've been here.
Meaning she doesn't.
He'd be very alone, he thinks, in Elio's absence. First of all for the lack of him, secondly for the lack of anyone to fill the resultant emptiness. It's the first time, he realises, that he's actively, consciously put Elio above the rest of them, reducing them to substitutes. It means something. It must.
So he reaches out slowly, curling his hand around Elio's slim wrist. It's a light touch. The other man could break it, with ease. ]
Please.
[ He shifts onto his side and lifts his wing up, indicating the spot next to him on the bed, the mattress cast in shadow. His feathers have started gleaming again from Elio's attentions. In places, they look like gold in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. ]
Edited 2021-08-18 16:15 (UTC)
[ Elio's the first to wake up.
Unsurprisingly - he usually is, whoever he's sleeping with, in whatever sense of the word, he's never been one to sleep in. Once he was one to sneak out instead, even, to avoid these morning afters, coming face to face with his bed partner once the shadows of night subsided. Things have changed recently, he is in absolutely no hurry to get out of Lucifer's bed, is he? The weight of his wing's so comforting, the weight of the other man's arm even more so.
They're lying pretty much exactly as they fell asleep, when was it, what's the time?
Blinking, Elio carefully raises the arm on which he's been lying, it's practically numb, and checks his wristwatch. It's late morning, they've slept for more than twelve hours. Just like this. It makes a small smile bloom on his lips, pure, unconcealed pleasure.
Letting his arm sink again, feeling the prickling sensation of blood flow coming back, he licks his slightly dry lips and fixes his gaze on the other man stretched out next to him, wings spread out to either side and the rest of him only slightly less messily arranged. Morning afters are always a bit raw, right? All facades down. Still, Lucifer manages to just look... Elio takes a deep breath. His chest is swelling, it feels like. Expanding. Lungs and heart. Thus, he inches closer until he can slip his right arm around Lucifer's waist, too, aligning them perfectly, front to front. He pushes his face in against the side of the other man's neck, forehead and nose and mouth. It's soft and warm, so warm.
He mutters, voice hoarse from sleep: ]
Keep looking this peaceful, please. Don't mind me.
[ Which is, of course, a way to give Lucifer every possible opportunity to mind. As is only fair. And respectful. ]
Unsurprisingly - he usually is, whoever he's sleeping with, in whatever sense of the word, he's never been one to sleep in. Once he was one to sneak out instead, even, to avoid these morning afters, coming face to face with his bed partner once the shadows of night subsided. Things have changed recently, he is in absolutely no hurry to get out of Lucifer's bed, is he? The weight of his wing's so comforting, the weight of the other man's arm even more so.
They're lying pretty much exactly as they fell asleep, when was it, what's the time?
Blinking, Elio carefully raises the arm on which he's been lying, it's practically numb, and checks his wristwatch. It's late morning, they've slept for more than twelve hours. Just like this. It makes a small smile bloom on his lips, pure, unconcealed pleasure.
Letting his arm sink again, feeling the prickling sensation of blood flow coming back, he licks his slightly dry lips and fixes his gaze on the other man stretched out next to him, wings spread out to either side and the rest of him only slightly less messily arranged. Morning afters are always a bit raw, right? All facades down. Still, Lucifer manages to just look... Elio takes a deep breath. His chest is swelling, it feels like. Expanding. Lungs and heart. Thus, he inches closer until he can slip his right arm around Lucifer's waist, too, aligning them perfectly, front to front. He pushes his face in against the side of the other man's neck, forehead and nose and mouth. It's soft and warm, so warm.
He mutters, voice hoarse from sleep: ]
Keep looking this peaceful, please. Don't mind me.
[ Which is, of course, a way to give Lucifer every possible opportunity to mind. As is only fair. And respectful. ]
[ He wakes very slowly, sensing first the rustling beneath his wing, like a sliver of movement - and then, more clearly, Elio's scent as he shift closer, close enough to align them front to front. His lips feel soft when he pushes in against Lucifer's face, the feeling of proximity almost absolute, like they couldn't be much closer without actively being inside each other. Blinking, he cracks his eyes open about halfway, watching Elio's beautiful features up close, his eyes, the slim bridge of his nose. Almost subconsciously, he tightens his grip against the small of his back, his corresponding wing shifting and curving lightly as his shoulder muscles engage.
Nothing hurts this morning, he realises. He's managed to heal completely during the course of... whatever time's passed. It was afternoon when they went to sleep, wasn't it? He frowns, then discards the thought quickly, mostly because he doesn't much like its logical conclusions. If they weren't looking for him before, why would now be any different? With a pang, he thinks about Chloe. Then, he very pointedly doesn't.
Letting his eyes fall shut again, he runs his palm lazily down Elio's naked back, his skin warm and soft to the touch. Humming happily from the very depths of his throat, he spreads his fingers over the small of his back, right above the hem of his trousers, and nudges him forward, up against his own crotch. His own cock is hard beneath his trousers, quite the proper morning stiffy! And he's not at all bothered about sharing if Elio's up for a little rubbing-about.
Going from how he's basically draped across his face, you'd think he wouldn't be opposed. ]
Nothing hurts this morning, he realises. He's managed to heal completely during the course of... whatever time's passed. It was afternoon when they went to sleep, wasn't it? He frowns, then discards the thought quickly, mostly because he doesn't much like its logical conclusions. If they weren't looking for him before, why would now be any different? With a pang, he thinks about Chloe. Then, he very pointedly doesn't.
Letting his eyes fall shut again, he runs his palm lazily down Elio's naked back, his skin warm and soft to the touch. Humming happily from the very depths of his throat, he spreads his fingers over the small of his back, right above the hem of his trousers, and nudges him forward, up against his own crotch. His own cock is hard beneath his trousers, quite the proper morning stiffy! And he's not at all bothered about sharing if Elio's up for a little rubbing-about.
Going from how he's basically draped across his face, you'd think he wouldn't be opposed. ]
[ He bikes there. It's not a short trip, between Lucifer's two penthouse apartments, but Elio needs the air, to clear his head. Like he thought, what happened to Lucifer's wings was the least of it, Chloe has abandoned him for some unvoiced reason that Elio suspects might have to do with Lucifer's true self. She's seen him, maybe, like Elio did back then. She saw him and she ran away. Elio tries to be unbiased, level-headed about it, but frankly, he's disappointed in her. He'd expected better, she knows Lucifer, regardless of whether she believed him to be the Devil or not, she knows him. This shouldn't change a thing. They're layers, these glimpses, they don't annul each other, they build on top of. One more side to a person should change nothing.
Except it changed something. And here they are, waiting for her to deal with her messes.
A distraction, Lucifer had texted him and Elio is happy to provide.
Waiting for the doors of the elevator to open, he gives himself a moment to think about last time he was here, not too long ago. Has it really only been a day? The slow, deep morning fuck they'd enjoyed with Lucifer's wings brand new, sparkling, bullet-free. They'll probably need to talk about the shoot-out, Elio thinks he needs to know and even if he doesn't, even if he continues being a peripheral nobody in the investigation, he still wants to. He wants to understand.
Ding go the doors. Elio steps inside without the slightest pause, looking around the living room, just a quick sweep. When he doesn't find Lucifer in any of the obvious places (wall of Scotch, piano), he halts and raises his voice slightly. ]
Are you distracted yet?
Except it changed something. And here they are, waiting for her to deal with her messes.
A distraction, Lucifer had texted him and Elio is happy to provide.
Waiting for the doors of the elevator to open, he gives himself a moment to think about last time he was here, not too long ago. Has it really only been a day? The slow, deep morning fuck they'd enjoyed with Lucifer's wings brand new, sparkling, bullet-free. They'll probably need to talk about the shoot-out, Elio thinks he needs to know and even if he doesn't, even if he continues being a peripheral nobody in the investigation, he still wants to. He wants to understand.
Ding go the doors. Elio steps inside without the slightest pause, looking around the living room, just a quick sweep. When he doesn't find Lucifer in any of the obvious places (wall of Scotch, piano), he halts and raises his voice slightly. ]
Are you distracted yet?
Edited 2021-08-24 10:43 (UTC)
[ It's uncommon for him, to ask for company when he's in a brooding-sort of mood and in the span of time it takes for Elio to make his way to the penthouse, he's already managed to regret asking for his company three times. None of which has led him to actually cancel his request, however. Apparently, there's a part of him that simply won't do it and it's got nothing to do with the inherent rudeness of telling someone who's actually on his way to turn around. It's not about Elio's feelings, either, about how he'd feel about being shut out once again. None of that, no.
It's just selfishness.
He's a selfish person, is Lucifer.
His phone lies abandoned in the living room because he can't keep staring at it and he's nowhere near drunk, not even after several bottles because, well, celestial constitution, yay-bloody-hay. He's currently standing on the balcony, leaning onto the glass railing and looking out, seeing nothing much besides darkness, neon-lights, the traffic snaking about below in glittering reds and whites. He thinks about Chloe again. Then, he thinks about Elio. Elio, who's just entered the penthouse, calling out to him.
He's been so lovely when they'd woken up together.
And before that, too.
Raising his voice in turn, he twists away from the railing and walks inside, meeting Elio's gaze, knowing perfectly well that his suit's more rumbled than it ought to be, his hair's a small disaster and his stubble's too pronounced. It's just... hard to care, sometimes. ]
Not by a long shot.
It's just selfishness.
He's a selfish person, is Lucifer.
His phone lies abandoned in the living room because he can't keep staring at it and he's nowhere near drunk, not even after several bottles because, well, celestial constitution, yay-bloody-hay. He's currently standing on the balcony, leaning onto the glass railing and looking out, seeing nothing much besides darkness, neon-lights, the traffic snaking about below in glittering reds and whites. He thinks about Chloe again. Then, he thinks about Elio. Elio, who's just entered the penthouse, calling out to him.
He's been so lovely when they'd woken up together.
And before that, too.
Raising his voice in turn, he twists away from the railing and walks inside, meeting Elio's gaze, knowing perfectly well that his suit's more rumbled than it ought to be, his hair's a small disaster and his stubble's too pronounced. It's just... hard to care, sometimes. ]
Not by a long shot.
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