[ They're close like this, their faces mere inches apart. Elio's lips are shining and Lucifer wants to lick them again, just to feel the softness of them. Instead, his expression grows a bit sombre at Elio's comment, his gaze slipping sideways. He curls one arm around the other man's narrow waist and pulls him in a little, just for emphasis. ]
It was for a friend.
[ Elio feels equal parts hard and soft against him, warm despite the chill of the evening clinging to his outerwear. Chloe had looked so small in that hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and beeping machines. He'd been so very close to losing her, to losing the dearest friend he's ever had. No way in Hell was he letting that happen, not to her, not to her child (and not to himself, either, because he's nothing if not inherently selfish). All the same, he can never actually tell her what he did the way he's just done, now, with Elio. She'll have to simply close her eyes some more to the truth; that she can't explain away the inexplicable, that there must be a story there that she simply can't bear.
He leaves it like that. One day, perhaps, she'll make a different choice.
It doesn't matter as much as it did. Before.
He glances back at Elio with unconcealed warmth in his eyes. You're my friend too, it says, and beneath that, probably less evident - I'd do it for you as well. ]
[ When he says it, he looks away, does Lucifer. It was for a friend. Elio doesn't feel jealous at his words, although judging from their relationship, his own and Lucifer's, friendship's many things when it comes to the Devil and maybe, in another reality, another place on Earth (with another person), he would have been. Jealous. As it is, he's just happy - happy that Lucifer has someone worth returning to Hell for and happy that whatever happened to them, it has been resolved enough that he can be here now, with him, telling him about it and looking at him with his dark, deep eyes that say, you're a friend, too. Maybe that's the real reason he isn't feeling much jealousy at all, really. Because Lucifer is curling his arm around his waist and holding him close in every sense of the phrase. Physically and emotionally.
Elio steps closer, his tumbler of whiskey dangling dangerously between the fingers of his right hand, somewhere near the middle of his thigh, before he pushes up on the balls of his feet, almost on his toes, but not quite, leaning in and resting his chin on Lucifer's shoulder, the LA cityscape a kaleidoscope of lights behind him. Blinking against the dusk, against the colors and the shapes, going slightly blurry when he focuses on them for too long, he just stands there and inhales the nearness of the other man. The firmness of his body, the softness.
Things that don't exclude one another.
He smiles, a genuine sense of relief to it, for Lucifer's sake and for his own. ]
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It was for a friend.
[ Elio feels equal parts hard and soft against him, warm despite the chill of the evening clinging to his outerwear. Chloe had looked so small in that hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and beeping machines. He'd been so very close to losing her, to losing the dearest friend he's ever had. No way in Hell was he letting that happen, not to her, not to her child (and not to himself, either, because he's nothing if not inherently selfish). All the same, he can never actually tell her what he did the way he's just done, now, with Elio. She'll have to simply close her eyes some more to the truth; that she can't explain away the inexplicable, that there must be a story there that she simply can't bear.
He leaves it like that. One day, perhaps, she'll make a different choice.
It doesn't matter as much as it did. Before.
He glances back at Elio with unconcealed warmth in his eyes. You're my friend too, it says, and beneath that, probably less evident - I'd do it for you as well. ]
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Elio steps closer, his tumbler of whiskey dangling dangerously between the fingers of his right hand, somewhere near the middle of his thigh, before he pushes up on the balls of his feet, almost on his toes, but not quite, leaning in and resting his chin on Lucifer's shoulder, the LA cityscape a kaleidoscope of lights behind him. Blinking against the dusk, against the colors and the shapes, going slightly blurry when he focuses on them for too long, he just stands there and inhales the nearness of the other man. The firmness of his body, the softness.
Things that don't exclude one another.
He smiles, a genuine sense of relief to it, for Lucifer's sake and for his own. ]
You have very lucky friends, Lucifer.