[ Elio stares at him and lets his hand fall. He watches his frantic movements, fixing his hair, fixing his shirt, checking the time and he can tell that just the fact Lucifer is still here, that he hasn't already run off to do who knows what, speaks in Elio's favor. It makes his stomach feel slightly warm and fuzzy, something which counters the freezing sensation of a true panic overtaking the rest of his body.
Because Lucifer's family is absolutely fucked. As in, insane. Elio rarely swears, but sometimes you got to say it like it is, no prettification. Throwing your children around - one thing's the piano, another's the implications. Just because they can physically take it, doesn't make them immune to those. I'm not above hurting you. You'd think Lucifer had had enough of that treatment from one parent already, right? Flying and falling.
This, coming from a deity who should be above everything? ]
It shouldn't be either. [ Elio purses his lips and cocks his head a little. It shouldn't be the piano and it shouldn't be the plague. ] Do you need help? I'm expecting the answer to be no, there's nothing you can do, Elio, but in case there is, I'm offering.
[ He looks at Elio in surprise for a moment, holding back a harsh How could you possibly be of any use to me? because, well, he beat him to it, didn't he, and also...
He really is a curious cookie, this man.
With a head-tilt, he finally smiles, very slightly, and gives his shoulder a small squeeze. Keeps his hand there for a moment, feeling that wiry strength underneath, not like his, not at all. All the things that set them apart seem to be the ones that bind them together, too. Elio, who thinks that it shouldn't be either, who listens without asking for much of anything in return, who Lucifer can't read with his mojo, who'd probably feel horrible speaking his desires out loud even if he could. ]
Thank you, darling.
[ He steps away. Releases him, fingertips brushing past his elbow. ]
[ And just like that, with a squeeze of his shoulder, Lucifer's moving on - into a world where his mother throws him around and his father throws him from the sky and who does Lucifer throw, is the question. Who gets thrown by Lucifer, in turn? His touch leaves a heat in his skin and Elio looks from his shoulder to the disappearing contour of the other man's back, headed out. Have another drink, if you want and Elio doesn't want, he wants something else, something else entirely and he still can't quite put it into words. He thinks about his dreams, the two he's had about Lucifer, head on his shoulder, head on his chest, always head somewhere he can feel his body, hard and firm and strong and gentle. At the same time.
A deep breath, all the way into his lungs and Elio glances over at the piano again before exhaling. Deities work not in mysterious ways, but in too-human ones, think the Greek pantheon, think the Egyptian one or any other around the globe. He thinks there was probably one thing he could've done, Elio.
He knows the human ways, after all.
As such, he reaches for his Sex on the Beach and downs it in one, thinking he needs a fun bike ride home if nothing else. ]
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Because Lucifer's family is absolutely fucked. As in, insane. Elio rarely swears, but sometimes you got to say it like it is, no prettification. Throwing your children around - one thing's the piano, another's the implications. Just because they can physically take it, doesn't make them immune to those. I'm not above hurting you. You'd think Lucifer had had enough of that treatment from one parent already, right? Flying and falling.
This, coming from a deity who should be above everything? ]
It shouldn't be either. [ Elio purses his lips and cocks his head a little. It shouldn't be the piano and it shouldn't be the plague. ] Do you need help? I'm expecting the answer to be no, there's nothing you can do, Elio, but in case there is, I'm offering.
no subject
He really is a curious cookie, this man.
With a head-tilt, he finally smiles, very slightly, and gives his shoulder a small squeeze. Keeps his hand there for a moment, feeling that wiry strength underneath, not like his, not at all. All the things that set them apart seem to be the ones that bind them together, too. Elio, who thinks that it shouldn't be either, who listens without asking for much of anything in return, who Lucifer can't read with his mojo, who'd probably feel horrible speaking his desires out loud even if he could. ]
Thank you, darling.
[ He steps away. Releases him, fingertips brushing past his elbow. ]
Have another drink, if you want.
[ With that, he turns away. ]
no subject
A deep breath, all the way into his lungs and Elio glances over at the piano again before exhaling. Deities work not in mysterious ways, but in too-human ones, think the Greek pantheon, think the Egyptian one or any other around the globe. He thinks there was probably one thing he could've done, Elio.
He knows the human ways, after all.
As such, he reaches for his Sex on the Beach and downs it in one, thinking he needs a fun bike ride home if nothing else. ]