[ He'd got worried when he got half a reply and then, radio silence.
First, he'd texted Lucifer a long rant that would have sounded so much better in words, with his arms lodged tightly around the other man's neck, dragging his head down to his shoulder, holding him close. Then, when that didn't elicit a reply either, he'd just told him he was coming for him, no objections. Elio isn't afraid of him, he's seen Lucifer in the depths before, it's never bothered him, it's never frightened him. The other man's strong and he's charged, but he's never done anything to hurt him, never intentionally and never with the whole cosmic physique of his either. Elio is tiny in comparison, true, but Lucifer has never made him feel dwarfed. Easily destroyed.
The way he must feel now, after what Chloe did.
Elio's furious about that, to be honest, he didn't want to make it about his own reaction to it, but he feels so disappointed, so resentful and that's when anger isn't even a natural first response with him. He's mild-tempered. Generally pleasant. With her, he just wants to slap her awake, can't she see? Can't she see what she's done to him, what she's doing?
The elevator ride is mercifully short and he steps out into the living room, shadows eating into the gold and the yellows and the light. At first, he can't even spot Lucifer anywhere, feeling worried that he might have gone off somewhere. To not drink.
Shit. He stops right inside and just turns his head after him, one way, the other. ]
[ He's curled up in his armchair close to the windows, knees drawn up and his arms slung around them, chin resting on top like he's tiny and powerless which, honestly, that feels rather too close to the truth. For some reason, his mind keeps skipping from the expression on Chloe's face when he'd shown her his true face, when she's looked away, horrified, her eyes wet with tears - to the inescapable fact that he's thrown his phone over the bloody balcony, meaning whatever Elio might've written back to him, whatever comfort he might have offered, is lost. The two things aren't connected, really, not logically. But they keep getting entwined. Messed up.
It's all my fault, he thinks and that's not really true, is it, the phone, maybe, but not... not her reaction. Not the fact that she's been lying to him, going behind his back and plotting to - oh. He blinks, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. It comes away damp.
He hears the elevator's soft ding and Elio's footfalls are so familiar by now that his spine almost instantly relaxes a fraction. Next, the panic. The knowledge that he can't possibly give the man anything like this, he can't be anything like this, and why is he here, anyway? Why would he come at all? Drawing in a harsh breath, curling up a bit further amidst the shadows, he says, voice rough: ]
I'm sorry I never answered, Elio. This is not a good time.
[ He spots him before he speaks, a ball curled up around himself in one of the armchairs, knees drawn up, all those long limbs slung in and around themselves. Elio aches for him. He aches, but no doubt not as much as Lucifer does right now. At the sound of his voice, the roughness of it, Elio doesn't frown or purse his lips, instead he sighs and walks over, stopping in front of the armchair, within touching distance, because if Lucifer wants to connect, he can and if he doesn't, he still deserves the offer. Even if he won't take it. Even if he can't, right now. Elio's okay, either way, with him. ]
It's the time we have, though. So please let me take it.
[ With that, Elio quietly sits down at the foot of the armchair, arranging his limbs with his legs drawn up beneath him, back parallel with the base of the chair and his head not too far from the side of Lucifer's thigh. He can move. He can walk away, there's room. Elio won't stand in his way. Elio might follow, but isn't that a different story?
He sits like that for a long moment, just finding the calm within himself, tuning out his anger at Chloe, tuning out his more selfish worries about where this leaves them and instead focuses on what Lucifer must be experiencing. Being rejected again. Being (almost) banished to Hell, again. Not being seen for the amazing, beautiful person he is. Again.
A long, deep breath and Elio offers, glancing sideways up at Lucifer from an angle: ]
I'm sorry she's failed you. Don't think it's your fault. Don't think it's got anything to do with who you are.
[ Elio chooses to draw closer - he doesn't flee, but when has he ever? - sitting down at the foot of his chair, his head within touching distance along with his shoulder, his hair. Lucifer looks away, out of the windows, but he isn't really seeing much of anything. He can smell the other man, a warm scent, comforting in its own right and for some reason, the thought makes him angry. He should be brawling somewhere, getting himself hurt, getting someone else hurt by proxy, he should be wreaking havoc just to prove that he's... that he's...
Lip trembling, he reaches down without even thinking about it, folding his fingers over Elio's shoulder. Anchoring himself. ]
It's got. Literally everything. To do with what I am.
[ He doesn't say who because she didn't, did she, she tried but she ended up correcting herself, turning him into something faceless and wrong, a monster hiding in the dark, waiting to ambush her. Were you trying to manipulate me, she'd said, earlier. Looking at him the way they looked at him, ages and ages and ages back, when Dad finally saw the truth, when he finally realised that Lucifer couldn't (wouldn't) be anything other than what he was.
Chaos. Death. Destruction.
He releases Elio with a shudder. ]
This is what I bring to life around me, isn't it. Corruption. The way she looks at me now...
[ He shifts. Draws away, as much as he can, folded up like a pretzel. ]
[ Lucifer's hand leaves his shoulder as the other man draws away again, folding in around himself even further, he looks like just a bundle of flesh, thrown haphazardly together, this man who can be so elegant and handsome, reduced to bones and meat on them. Elio twists a little in his seated position, looking over his shoulder at him, softly, eyes slightly hooded, eyes shining in the dim lights. I won't, it means, it's not even a potential lie, I know this in my heart, it's with that kind of conviction. ]
You're not some thing, Lucifer, you're someone.
[ He speaks softly, not alluring or anything, just level and pleasant and like he's talking to a dear friend, because he is. Maybe more than a friend. Elio loves him, that's the point of it, he sees him. For everything that he is and everything that he isn't. ]
I will always look at you like that. Someone who deserves everything in return for the light and the music and the pleasure you bring into my world.
[ Slowly, carefully, he leans his head back, he has to lean some way, though, feeling how the back of his skull finally connects with Lucifer's hip, the side of his thigh. If he turns his head a little, his hair's sliding over the fabric of his pants. He can look up at him from this angle, the way the shadows play across his features. Big nose, lips. Chin.
The thing about light and music and pleasure is that they're not without their downsides. Light comes with shadow. Music comes with dissonance. Pleasure with pain. It's like that, and you shouldn't love them any less. ]
[ His eyes are burning with unshed tears and when Elio presses closer again, just the very back of his head connecting with Lucifer's thigh, he trembles again, harder now, holding things in that he can't even attempt to express. Crying wouldn't do it. Violence wouldn't either. Instead, he sits there for another moment, staring at nothing of value, at his own reflection in the glass.
Then, on impulse, his face ripples and burns away, leaving his Devil face in place, this hated thing that costs him, again and again and again. In taking away all falseness in his life, it also... well, it also takes what might have been, the potential underlying all empty promises. He slips out of the chair and crouches down in front of Elio on the floor, staring straight into his eyes and seeing his own hellfire reflected in them.
I will always look at you like that he said and he has, it's not that he needs to prove anything. It's just that right now, this is really what he is and Elio should know that his words won't bind him. That even now, the exit's free, as it always will be for him. Beautiful, sweet Elio.
He thinks about waking up in bed with him, wings draped across his body. He'd been fantasizing, last time, about how his feathers would look, stuck in all those wonderful curls.
Right now, he's simply watching him, unblinkingly. ]
[ Lucifer's face changes, turning red and charred and burnt, scarred and everything you might imagine the Devil to be, except without goat legs and tail. Elio follows him with his gaze when he slips out of the chair completely to crouch down in front of him, follows him the entire way, staring into his eyes as he's prompted to, because Lucifer isn't letting him go with his gaze. Elio isn't afraid. Or repulsed. He doesn't feel diminished in any way, he looks at him and he sees him. Shadow to light, dissonance to music, pain to pleasure. They make wholes. Lucifer's a whole to, that's what so incredibly amazing about him.
So, Elio shakes his head once. ]
No, that makes me someone who loves you like you deserve to be loved.
[ He realizes he's dropped the L-word kind of inconveniently, but it's not a direct love declaration, it isn't the dreaded I love you combination, so maybe it'll tell Lucifer what Elio wants him to have, that there's something more for him than the dread and the terror and the misunderstandings. That it's supposed to to be understanding and acceptance and embrace, all in one look. One word. One gesture.
Without hesitation, Elio leans forward, bringing himself into Lucifer's personal sphere, close enough that he can make out every detail of his face, the texture of his skin, the way he's more gaunt and more bare like this. Naked, in a way, showing himself off without any barriers. Then, he kisses him.
It's not a forceful kiss, it's just a brush of lips against lips. Slight pressure, proximity, heat. Hand coming up to cup his cheek. Before Elio draws back again, smiling at him uncertainly. ]
[ Elio looks back, so heartbreakingly unafraid and Lucifer thinks for a moment that yes, he truly has him fooled, the way he's been inexplicably fooling everybody else. He doesn't know how - Dad knows he never wants to be dishonest but they feel lied to all the same, the ones he chooses, they feel lied to and betrayed so they betray him in turn.
But then, Elio tells him...
Elio says...
Staring at the other man, eyes widening, he stops breathing altogether as the other man leans in and kisses him, the way he did the first time he saw his Devil face, the way he does every time they come together. He tastes the same, too, and he loves, so he says, the absolute fool because Lucifer can't possibly love him back, something - someone - like him. No. It's most certainly wasted on him.
All the same, his chest aches so badly that he wants to tear it to pieces. Elio loves him, kisses him and waits for whatever reaction he'll have in return and Lucifer can't leave him with nothing, even if he doesn't want to return the words themselves for fear of making liars out of them both. He doesn't. He swallows heavily, licking his lips and realising only then that his face has changed back, his skin no longer charred but whole and smooth. With a deep, almost guttural sigh, he unfolds his wings - bright, white, though not as shiny as they ought to be at the moment - and curls them around the other man, slipping his hands around his waist and drawing him in against his front.
Then, he bends his head and pushes his forehead against the other man's shoulder, burying his nose in his dark curls and crying, soundlessly, because it's really all too much right now and Elio hasn't run away from him, not yet, so maybe he won't. Maybe he truly won't.
It hurts, to think it. The vulnerability of it. Like poking at an open wound. ]
[ He hadn't expected Lucifer to say it back to him, not even indirectly. He isn't disappointed when he doesn't, either. Now isn't the time and he isn't ready, understandably. He knows the other man won't commit, he is bound by principles and personal ideas about how relations work that may not always hold true, but they're true to him, so what difference does it make.
However, what Lucifer does give him, to show his appreciation, his gratitude, means all the more for it, the way his Devil face melts away again, replaced by his normal features and his huge wings, folding in around Elio in time with Lucifer wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him to his chest and burying his face in his hair, crying soundlessly, just shoulders trembling, wings trembling slightly, too. Elio glances up at however much of them he can see. They're still beautiful, even slightly dulled as they look now. Do they reflect his mood? Do his wings look sad, because he is?
Turning his face in against the side of Lucifer's slowly, softly, Elio feels his tears trickling down his cheeks, sticking to his stubble. It's so vulnerable, this position, so what if Lucifer isn't ready to say he loves him, so what if he might never be? He gives him this, it's a declaration of some sort, surely. Elio smiles slightly, buries one hand in the other man's hair, brushing it out of his forehead with languid, long brushes of his palm, fingers. ]
It's a lot, I know. I know.
[ Nothing's okay, it means, I know. With Chloe, with the world as it looks tonight. But also, you heard me and can't respond, it's okay, I know, I understand. It means that, too. ]
[ Elio brushes his hand through his hair softly, the steady movement of his fingers melting into his nervous system. His breathing slows, gradually, the tears drying out. He sniffles. Stays as he is, letting Elio be warm and soft and gentle against him because he doesn't have it in him to fight against it, he can't see how he'd ever find the strength to reject what the other man wants to offer him. It would hurt him, in turn. And it would be another lie, a story told that he can't possibly believe in.
Breathing out harshly, he turns his face away. His wings rustle slightly at the motion and when he finally draws back, releasing Elio, they whack against the coffee table with enough force to splinter the glass. He groans. Shakes his head in annoyance and straightens to his feet, grasping Elio's hand and pulling him up along with him.
It's dark in the living room, except for the golden light of the bar and the few lamps burning along the walls. The chandelier glitters in the polished piano lid. He thinks that this is home, except he's fairly certain that without Elio in it, it would feel... colder than before. Poisoned. How's that for some fucking irony? Expression tightening, he edges past Elio gently, taking care not to push him, and heads for the bar. Pause. No. No, he doesn't actually want...
He doesn't know what he wants.
That's marvelous. ]
I don't --
[ Pause. A frustrated sigh as he turns towards Elio again, his wings fluffing up behind him in agitation. His cheeks are tear-streaked and he wipes at them uselessly, disliking the way it makes his skin feel itchy and raw. ]
-- I don't know how to...
[ He waves his hand at Elio helplessly. Then, at himself. ]
[ After a while, Lucifer has managed to stabilize his breathing, get a hold of himself, not that holds are necessary, but sometimes they're more convenient and sometimes they're more comfortable. So Elio lets him get to his feet, lets the other man drag him to his feet, too, his wings taking up so much space in the room and Lucifer's movements uncoordinated enough to have them whack into the coffee table, the glass splintering. He groans, edges past Elio more carefully and Elio follows after him, looking up at his face while he seems to search for the next logical step. The bar? Not the bar. I don't, he says and turns towards Elio, then, feathers fluffing in agitation (definitely mirroring his mood), wiping uselessly at his face. He looks like anyone who's had a good cry, cleansed, but open, sore.
Elio holds his arms out to both sides as Lucifer gestures from him to himself, his front, I don't know how to, he repeats. He doesn't know how to take what Elio offers, he doesn't know how to respond, give back.
Slowly, Elio just shakes his head, gesturing between them as well, like a reflection of what the other man just did. ]
It's alright, Lucifer.
[ This, it means, comes without counterclaims. I'm not waiting for anything but what you've already given me, it's not to make you give me more, it's just how what you're giving me makes me feel. Except, he doesn't say any of that out loud, instead he looks past Lucifer's shoulders at his wings and cocks his head a little bit, fingers flexing at his sides now. ]
Would you mind if I fixed your wings for you? They look a bit sad. [ Then, as a clarification: ] No expectations, of course. I do it because I want to and you let me, because you want to. If you want to.
[ He's about to fold his wretched wrings back into semi-existence when Elio spreads his arms and gestures between them, responding to Lucifer's badly voiced plea with a mirroring image, like he's offering him a lot more than just his acceptance. We're both here, it means, looking at the same little bit of chaos and Lucifer doesn't know how to feel about that so he pushes all thoughts aside and focuses on whether or not he... wants him to.
Fix his sad wings, that is.
Gaze sliding sideways, he turns his head and stares at his feathers, first over one shoulder, then the other. A bit flustered now, he pulls one wing out in front of his face, bending it sideways and looking the feathers over. Indeed, they uh. They look like crap. Mouth down-turned, he wrestles one of the long, razor-sharp primaries back into its proper place, sort of twisting it a little, none-too-gently. Then, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and leaves it on the piano, looking over at Elio a bit worriedly. Pause. ]
Are you quite certain?
[ He realises only then that he's already accepted his offer, without even thinking it through. Apparently, he... very much wants him to. Imagine that. Since Elio picked the bullets out - and, uh, the morning after sex, gosh - no one has touched them at all, perhaps aside from whenever Elio's woken up beneath them, naked skin and feathers pressed together without thought or reason. They certainly haven't been... fixed... in forever.
It's actually a bit of a mess, now that he thinks about it.
[ Are you quite certain, Lucifer wants to know, examining his wings with some obvious opposition to the entire concept. How they look, a bit shabby, a bit dull, and the Devil is nothing if not incredibly vain. Among other things.
Slowly, the other man even pulls one of them in front of his face and painstakingly fingers one feather back into place, huge and sharp-looking, it would gleam with a bit of oil, right? Elio still remember their morning after. He remembers the reaction it roused. You'll get sticky, Lucifer continues, having shrugged out of his suit jacket and he's now leaving his wings drooping behind him, just in his shirt and vest, looking fantastic as always. A bit under the weather, but fantastic. Elio looks him over, head slightly cocked to one side, breathing easy and even.
He decides, in that moment, that they'll figure it out, all of it, his wings, Chloe, them. Given time, they'll find a way around it. Through it. If need be, a way on from it.
For now, there's this moment and it'll have to carry all the rest. It's a bit much to ask of any one point in time, but Elio thinks, honestly, they've got it. He believes in them. So, he smiles, just a tad teasingly, without making it an actively lewd response and finally unzips his jacket, shrugs out of it, walks over to the piano to leave it next to Lucifer's suit jacket. ]
I don't mind when it's you.
[ It's not flirtatious, although it could easily have been. It's straight-forward and completely honest. Elio looks back at Lucifer and raises both eyebrows. Expression open. Arms open, too, almost as if to say, tell me how you want me. ]
[ Elio follows his lead, of course, even when he's set the course. There's something incredibly comforting about it, about the predictability of it. It's a part of their dynamic, he thinks, that simply doesn't waver, like Elio's just not the type of man to shock him or to leave him reeling. He should find it incredibly boring but instead, it makes his heart beat just a little more evenly and his head feel lighter. I know this, he thinks. This is home.
He smiles back, a careful little twitch of his lips, and heads for the bed. He doesn't particularly want to bring in the cleaning crew again for feathers and whatnot but on the other hand, he'd rather like for Elio to be comfortable. He toes out of his shoes and socks on the way, leaving them on the floor by the bed before finally losing his shirt, folding it away onto a chair. He glances over his shoulder at Elio, tipping his wing downwards slightly to make eye-contact. ]
You can sit behind me.
[ He sits, legs crossed, near the middle of the bed, leaving Elio room to sit as he pleases. His wings are hanging down his back, tips dragging across the floor on either side of the bed. He looks down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, and thinks about not having wings, about cutting them off and leaving them in bloody heaps all over his walk-in closet. It was a simpler decision, to be rid of them. Knowing Elio's about to put his hands on them is equal parts terrifying and exciting and he hates that duality, the notion that a part of him remains a hypocrite, even now.
[ When Lucifer makes for the bedroom, Elio follows, toeing out of his shoes and socks on the way, t-shirt over his head only once the other man removes his shirt, as if taking his cues along the way - we're getting this naked, it's not foreplay, it's I take care of you, you let me which is by every definition vulnerable enough. Maybe even more vulnerable than anything sexual they could do. Waiting for the other man to seat himself, to look back at him over the arch of his wing and tell him, come here, you can sit behind me, like permission, Elio smiles and nods, crawling onto the middle of the bed, too. He sits on his knees, their height difference is overcome most smoothly that way, although his wings add a whole new length to his body, height and width and span.
They may be for flight, his wings, but this isn't fleeing, Elio thinks, biting his lip a moment as he tries to decide where to start. This isn't leaving the entire situation with Chloe behind, it's giving themselves a breather, a moment to not have to feel it. By feeling something else instead. Slowly, he raises both hands, fingers slightly curved, as if hitting the first chord on the piano, really, and reaches for the arch of Lucifer's right wing, just gently runs his palm over the slope of it, following the natural direction of the feathers downward in little, soft strokes with his fingers. They're strong, his feathers, though soft at the same time and it's such a natural contrast with Lucifer, like they embody his entire person in just that one characteristic.
Then again, they get sad when he does. Angry, upset. Maybe they embody him in more ways than you'd think. Elio cocks his head, licks his lips, fixes a couple of flight feathers, huge, almost as long as he is, head to toe, that have gone all disheveled. ]
You can always ask me. [ A slight pause, a third huge feather needs pushing into place and he's being careful about it. It takes some focus. There are a lot of feathers here. ] To take care of them for you.
[ And if his wings embody him, Elio knows, then he's also saying, you can always ask me to take care of you. ]
[ Elio climbs up behind, undressed down to his trousers just like Lucifer, and the mattress gives just slightly as he crawls up behind him, his weight small but significant. Lucifer can feel his breathing growing uneven, not quite hitting gasping-territory but something that feels... like urgency, impatience, maybe even...
You never get scared, said his brother once, what feels like ages ago.
Oh, the lies others believe about him.
At the first touch of Elio's hand against his right wing, he suppresses a shiver along with the urge to pull away. One deep breath, two, three - and then, Elio begins, fixing one long feather after the other and with each alignment, he feels just a little less tense. His skin prickles in response, the small coverts along the arches fluffing up slightly. You can always ask, Elio tells him, his voice quiet and his movements steady, careful. Lucifer thinks, again, about Chloe telling him she was alright, that all she saw in him was her partner, even after -- but she'd been lying and he'd been so happy, too.
Lip trembling, he bows his head for a moment, breathes in harshly. Then, he forces himself to quiet down, to clear his mind and push the thoughts of the prior days away. Instead, there's just... the feeling of Elio's fingers, the scent of his body and his naked skin. You can always ask me, he said. ]
Thank you.
[ He lifts his head and looks out of the windows beyond the bedroom, straight into the darkness outside, broken up by the burning city lights. Home. This is home. Elio is...
Shutting his eyes, he relaxes into the other man's attentions. Within long, he's thrumming at him without realising it - a low, dark rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest and throat, something that sounds distinctively non-human. It sounds like quiet, mostly, something very gentle and un-rushed. Like peace.
[ Elio doesn't fail to sense how this is a definite struggle for the other man, how he trembles at his first touch to his wings, how he has to fight not to draw away. Elio can feel it and he accepts that, too. It's extremely vulnerable. He's just lost his best friend, hasn't he, and Elio has put everything on display for him as well, giving him all the more to lose, if they should experience a similar break. They won't, of course, Elio knows, but Lucifer is still sitting with the hurt of it all, you can't expect him to tell the differences between their two situations. Why one didn't work out and the other will. Not now. There's only so much forest you'll see, surrounded by trees on all sides, right?
So, he just focuses on keeping his movements steady, aligning feathers, pulling lightly at them to get them in order, running his fingers through the rows, soft and hard at the same time. Like Lucifer himself. Elio loves that about him. He feels weirdly safe in that exact combination of traits, vulnerability and strength, softness and hardness, like he'd be happy to lay himself out for Lucifer and he wouldn't fear, not for a second.
Does that make you a fool?
He makes a hmm'ing sound at the back of his throat (maybe it does, a happy fool, then), working his way down the middle of Lucifer's wing now, the smaller feathers increasingly softer, increasingly down-like. He's careful with them. After he's righted the worst of the disheveling, Elio reaches up and carefully, gently, runs his palm over where he knows the gland is, getting his fingers all sticky with oil before starting to rub it into the top-row. The light out of them is extraordinary. It's then that he notices Lucifer humming, well, it's not quite a hum, but something similar, vibrations deep in his throat, like purring, maybe, but less... Earthly? Less from here. Elio listen to it for a long time, rubbing oil into the next row of feathers as well, until his fingers are mostly slick-free, and he thinks it means something. He wants it to mean something.
As he reaches up again for his preen gland, fingers going oily in a few rubbing motions, Elio leans in, balancing himself against Lucifer's waist and presses a soft kiss to his lower neck, upper back, between his shoulder blades. Right between his wings. Other than that, he doesn't comment, lets Lucifer keep his secret language to himself and taking away only the knowledge that it exists. That it's in there. That he can make it come out.
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First, he'd texted Lucifer a long rant that would have sounded so much better in words, with his arms lodged tightly around the other man's neck, dragging his head down to his shoulder, holding him close. Then, when that didn't elicit a reply either, he'd just told him he was coming for him, no objections. Elio isn't afraid of him, he's seen Lucifer in the depths before, it's never bothered him, it's never frightened him. The other man's strong and he's charged, but he's never done anything to hurt him, never intentionally and never with the whole cosmic physique of his either. Elio is tiny in comparison, true, but Lucifer has never made him feel dwarfed. Easily destroyed.
The way he must feel now, after what Chloe did.
Elio's furious about that, to be honest, he didn't want to make it about his own reaction to it, but he feels so disappointed, so resentful and that's when anger isn't even a natural first response with him. He's mild-tempered. Generally pleasant. With her, he just wants to slap her awake, can't she see? Can't she see what she's done to him, what she's doing?
The elevator ride is mercifully short and he steps out into the living room, shadows eating into the gold and the yellows and the light. At first, he can't even spot Lucifer anywhere, feeling worried that he might have gone off somewhere. To not drink.
Shit. He stops right inside and just turns his head after him, one way, the other. ]
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It's all my fault, he thinks and that's not really true, is it, the phone, maybe, but not... not her reaction. Not the fact that she's been lying to him, going behind his back and plotting to - oh. He blinks, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. It comes away damp.
He hears the elevator's soft ding and Elio's footfalls are so familiar by now that his spine almost instantly relaxes a fraction. Next, the panic. The knowledge that he can't possibly give the man anything like this, he can't be anything like this, and why is he here, anyway? Why would he come at all? Drawing in a harsh breath, curling up a bit further amidst the shadows, he says, voice rough: ]
I'm sorry I never answered, Elio. This is not a good time.
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It's the time we have, though. So please let me take it.
[ With that, Elio quietly sits down at the foot of the armchair, arranging his limbs with his legs drawn up beneath him, back parallel with the base of the chair and his head not too far from the side of Lucifer's thigh. He can move. He can walk away, there's room. Elio won't stand in his way. Elio might follow, but isn't that a different story?
He sits like that for a long moment, just finding the calm within himself, tuning out his anger at Chloe, tuning out his more selfish worries about where this leaves them and instead focuses on what Lucifer must be experiencing. Being rejected again. Being (almost) banished to Hell, again. Not being seen for the amazing, beautiful person he is. Again.
A long, deep breath and Elio offers, glancing sideways up at Lucifer from an angle: ]
I'm sorry she's failed you. Don't think it's your fault. Don't think it's got anything to do with who you are.
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Lip trembling, he reaches down without even thinking about it, folding his fingers over Elio's shoulder. Anchoring himself. ]
It's got. Literally everything. To do with what I am.
[ He doesn't say who because she didn't, did she, she tried but she ended up correcting herself, turning him into something faceless and wrong, a monster hiding in the dark, waiting to ambush her. Were you trying to manipulate me, she'd said, earlier. Looking at him the way they looked at him, ages and ages and ages back, when Dad finally saw the truth, when he finally realised that Lucifer couldn't (wouldn't) be anything other than what he was.
Chaos. Death. Destruction.
He releases Elio with a shudder. ]
This is what I bring to life around me, isn't it. Corruption. The way she looks at me now...
[ He shifts. Draws away, as much as he can, folded up like a pretzel. ]
Will you do the same, one day? I wonder.
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[ Lucifer's hand leaves his shoulder as the other man draws away again, folding in around himself even further, he looks like just a bundle of flesh, thrown haphazardly together, this man who can be so elegant and handsome, reduced to bones and meat on them. Elio twists a little in his seated position, looking over his shoulder at him, softly, eyes slightly hooded, eyes shining in the dim lights. I won't, it means, it's not even a potential lie, I know this in my heart, it's with that kind of conviction. ]
You're not some thing, Lucifer, you're someone.
[ He speaks softly, not alluring or anything, just level and pleasant and like he's talking to a dear friend, because he is. Maybe more than a friend. Elio loves him, that's the point of it, he sees him. For everything that he is and everything that he isn't. ]
I will always look at you like that. Someone who deserves everything in return for the light and the music and the pleasure you bring into my world.
[ Slowly, carefully, he leans his head back, he has to lean some way, though, feeling how the back of his skull finally connects with Lucifer's hip, the side of his thigh. If he turns his head a little, his hair's sliding over the fabric of his pants. He can look up at him from this angle, the way the shadows play across his features. Big nose, lips. Chin.
The thing about light and music and pleasure is that they're not without their downsides. Light comes with shadow. Music comes with dissonance. Pleasure with pain. It's like that, and you shouldn't love them any less. ]
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Then, on impulse, his face ripples and burns away, leaving his Devil face in place, this hated thing that costs him, again and again and again. In taking away all falseness in his life, it also... well, it also takes what might have been, the potential underlying all empty promises. He slips out of the chair and crouches down in front of Elio on the floor, staring straight into his eyes and seeing his own hellfire reflected in them.
I will always look at you like that he said and he has, it's not that he needs to prove anything. It's just that right now, this is really what he is and Elio should know that his words won't bind him. That even now, the exit's free, as it always will be for him. Beautiful, sweet Elio.
He thinks about waking up in bed with him, wings draped across his body. He'd been fantasizing, last time, about how his feathers would look, stuck in all those wonderful curls.
Right now, he's simply watching him, unblinkingly. ]
Does that make you a fool?
[ Do I, it means. Do I make a fool out of you? ]
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So, Elio shakes his head once. ]
No, that makes me someone who loves you like you deserve to be loved.
[ He realizes he's dropped the L-word kind of inconveniently, but it's not a direct love declaration, it isn't the dreaded I love you combination, so maybe it'll tell Lucifer what Elio wants him to have, that there's something more for him than the dread and the terror and the misunderstandings. That it's supposed to to be understanding and acceptance and embrace, all in one look. One word. One gesture.
Without hesitation, Elio leans forward, bringing himself into Lucifer's personal sphere, close enough that he can make out every detail of his face, the texture of his skin, the way he's more gaunt and more bare like this. Naked, in a way, showing himself off without any barriers. Then, he kisses him.
It's not a forceful kiss, it's just a brush of lips against lips. Slight pressure, proximity, heat. Hand coming up to cup his cheek. Before Elio draws back again, smiling at him uncertainly. ]
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But then, Elio tells him...
Elio says...
Staring at the other man, eyes widening, he stops breathing altogether as the other man leans in and kisses him, the way he did the first time he saw his Devil face, the way he does every time they come together. He tastes the same, too, and he loves, so he says, the absolute fool because Lucifer can't possibly love him back, something - someone - like him. No. It's most certainly wasted on him.
All the same, his chest aches so badly that he wants to tear it to pieces. Elio loves him, kisses him and waits for whatever reaction he'll have in return and Lucifer can't leave him with nothing, even if he doesn't want to return the words themselves for fear of making liars out of them both. He doesn't. He swallows heavily, licking his lips and realising only then that his face has changed back, his skin no longer charred but whole and smooth. With a deep, almost guttural sigh, he unfolds his wings - bright, white, though not as shiny as they ought to be at the moment - and curls them around the other man, slipping his hands around his waist and drawing him in against his front.
Then, he bends his head and pushes his forehead against the other man's shoulder, burying his nose in his dark curls and crying, soundlessly, because it's really all too much right now and Elio hasn't run away from him, not yet, so maybe he won't. Maybe he truly won't.
It hurts, to think it. The vulnerability of it. Like poking at an open wound. ]
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However, what Lucifer does give him, to show his appreciation, his gratitude, means all the more for it, the way his Devil face melts away again, replaced by his normal features and his huge wings, folding in around Elio in time with Lucifer wrapping his arms around his waist, pulling him to his chest and burying his face in his hair, crying soundlessly, just shoulders trembling, wings trembling slightly, too. Elio glances up at however much of them he can see. They're still beautiful, even slightly dulled as they look now. Do they reflect his mood? Do his wings look sad, because he is?
Turning his face in against the side of Lucifer's slowly, softly, Elio feels his tears trickling down his cheeks, sticking to his stubble. It's so vulnerable, this position, so what if Lucifer isn't ready to say he loves him, so what if he might never be? He gives him this, it's a declaration of some sort, surely. Elio smiles slightly, buries one hand in the other man's hair, brushing it out of his forehead with languid, long brushes of his palm, fingers. ]
It's a lot, I know. I know.
[ Nothing's okay, it means, I know. With Chloe, with the world as it looks tonight. But also, you heard me and can't respond, it's okay, I know, I understand. It means that, too. ]
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Breathing out harshly, he turns his face away. His wings rustle slightly at the motion and when he finally draws back, releasing Elio, they whack against the coffee table with enough force to splinter the glass. He groans. Shakes his head in annoyance and straightens to his feet, grasping Elio's hand and pulling him up along with him.
It's dark in the living room, except for the golden light of the bar and the few lamps burning along the walls. The chandelier glitters in the polished piano lid. He thinks that this is home, except he's fairly certain that without Elio in it, it would feel... colder than before. Poisoned. How's that for some fucking irony? Expression tightening, he edges past Elio gently, taking care not to push him, and heads for the bar. Pause. No. No, he doesn't actually want...
He doesn't know what he wants.
That's marvelous. ]
I don't --
[ Pause. A frustrated sigh as he turns towards Elio again, his wings fluffing up behind him in agitation. His cheeks are tear-streaked and he wipes at them uselessly, disliking the way it makes his skin feel itchy and raw. ]
-- I don't know how to...
[ He waves his hand at Elio helplessly. Then, at himself. ]
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Elio holds his arms out to both sides as Lucifer gestures from him to himself, his front, I don't know how to, he repeats. He doesn't know how to take what Elio offers, he doesn't know how to respond, give back.
Slowly, Elio just shakes his head, gesturing between them as well, like a reflection of what the other man just did. ]
It's alright, Lucifer.
[ This, it means, comes without counterclaims. I'm not waiting for anything but what you've already given me, it's not to make you give me more, it's just how what you're giving me makes me feel. Except, he doesn't say any of that out loud, instead he looks past Lucifer's shoulders at his wings and cocks his head a little bit, fingers flexing at his sides now. ]
Would you mind if I fixed your wings for you? They look a bit sad. [ Then, as a clarification: ] No expectations, of course. I do it because I want to and you let me, because you want to. If you want to.
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Fix his sad wings, that is.
Gaze sliding sideways, he turns his head and stares at his feathers, first over one shoulder, then the other. A bit flustered now, he pulls one wing out in front of his face, bending it sideways and looking the feathers over. Indeed, they uh. They look like crap. Mouth down-turned, he wrestles one of the long, razor-sharp primaries back into its proper place, sort of twisting it a little, none-too-gently. Then, he shrugs out of his suit jacket and leaves it on the piano, looking over at Elio a bit worriedly. Pause. ]
Are you quite certain?
[ He realises only then that he's already accepted his offer, without even thinking it through. Apparently, he... very much wants him to. Imagine that. Since Elio picked the bullets out - and, uh, the morning after sex, gosh - no one has touched them at all, perhaps aside from whenever Elio's woken up beneath them, naked skin and feathers pressed together without thought or reason. They certainly haven't been... fixed... in forever.
It's actually a bit of a mess, now that he thinks about it.
His wings droop behind him a bit. ]
You'll get... sticky.
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Slowly, the other man even pulls one of them in front of his face and painstakingly fingers one feather back into place, huge and sharp-looking, it would gleam with a bit of oil, right? Elio still remember their morning after. He remembers the reaction it roused. You'll get sticky, Lucifer continues, having shrugged out of his suit jacket and he's now leaving his wings drooping behind him, just in his shirt and vest, looking fantastic as always. A bit under the weather, but fantastic. Elio looks him over, head slightly cocked to one side, breathing easy and even.
He decides, in that moment, that they'll figure it out, all of it, his wings, Chloe, them. Given time, they'll find a way around it. Through it. If need be, a way on from it.
For now, there's this moment and it'll have to carry all the rest. It's a bit much to ask of any one point in time, but Elio thinks, honestly, they've got it. He believes in them. So, he smiles, just a tad teasingly, without making it an actively lewd response and finally unzips his jacket, shrugs out of it, walks over to the piano to leave it next to Lucifer's suit jacket. ]
I don't mind when it's you.
[ It's not flirtatious, although it could easily have been. It's straight-forward and completely honest. Elio looks back at Lucifer and raises both eyebrows. Expression open. Arms open, too, almost as if to say, tell me how you want me. ]
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He smiles back, a careful little twitch of his lips, and heads for the bed. He doesn't particularly want to bring in the cleaning crew again for feathers and whatnot but on the other hand, he'd rather like for Elio to be comfortable. He toes out of his shoes and socks on the way, leaving them on the floor by the bed before finally losing his shirt, folding it away onto a chair. He glances over his shoulder at Elio, tipping his wing downwards slightly to make eye-contact. ]
You can sit behind me.
[ He sits, legs crossed, near the middle of the bed, leaving Elio room to sit as he pleases. His wings are hanging down his back, tips dragging across the floor on either side of the bed. He looks down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, and thinks about not having wings, about cutting them off and leaving them in bloody heaps all over his walk-in closet. It was a simpler decision, to be rid of them. Knowing Elio's about to put his hands on them is equal parts terrifying and exciting and he hates that duality, the notion that a part of him remains a hypocrite, even now.
Even here. ]
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They may be for flight, his wings, but this isn't fleeing, Elio thinks, biting his lip a moment as he tries to decide where to start. This isn't leaving the entire situation with Chloe behind, it's giving themselves a breather, a moment to not have to feel it. By feeling something else instead. Slowly, he raises both hands, fingers slightly curved, as if hitting the first chord on the piano, really, and reaches for the arch of Lucifer's right wing, just gently runs his palm over the slope of it, following the natural direction of the feathers downward in little, soft strokes with his fingers. They're strong, his feathers, though soft at the same time and it's such a natural contrast with Lucifer, like they embody his entire person in just that one characteristic.
Then again, they get sad when he does. Angry, upset. Maybe they embody him in more ways than you'd think. Elio cocks his head, licks his lips, fixes a couple of flight feathers, huge, almost as long as he is, head to toe, that have gone all disheveled. ]
You can always ask me. [ A slight pause, a third huge feather needs pushing into place and he's being careful about it. It takes some focus. There are a lot of feathers here. ] To take care of them for you.
[ And if his wings embody him, Elio knows, then he's also saying, you can always ask me to take care of you. ]
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You never get scared, said his brother once, what feels like ages ago.
Oh, the lies others believe about him.
At the first touch of Elio's hand against his right wing, he suppresses a shiver along with the urge to pull away. One deep breath, two, three - and then, Elio begins, fixing one long feather after the other and with each alignment, he feels just a little less tense. His skin prickles in response, the small coverts along the arches fluffing up slightly. You can always ask, Elio tells him, his voice quiet and his movements steady, careful. Lucifer thinks, again, about Chloe telling him she was alright, that all she saw in him was her partner, even after -- but she'd been lying and he'd been so happy, too.
Lip trembling, he bows his head for a moment, breathes in harshly. Then, he forces himself to quiet down, to clear his mind and push the thoughts of the prior days away. Instead, there's just... the feeling of Elio's fingers, the scent of his body and his naked skin. You can always ask me, he said. ]
Thank you.
[ He lifts his head and looks out of the windows beyond the bedroom, straight into the darkness outside, broken up by the burning city lights. Home. This is home. Elio is...
Shutting his eyes, he relaxes into the other man's attentions. Within long, he's thrumming at him without realising it - a low, dark rumbling from somewhere deep within his chest and throat, something that sounds distinctively non-human. It sounds like quiet, mostly, something very gentle and un-rushed. Like peace.
Feels like it, too. ]
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So, he just focuses on keeping his movements steady, aligning feathers, pulling lightly at them to get them in order, running his fingers through the rows, soft and hard at the same time. Like Lucifer himself. Elio loves that about him. He feels weirdly safe in that exact combination of traits, vulnerability and strength, softness and hardness, like he'd be happy to lay himself out for Lucifer and he wouldn't fear, not for a second.
Does that make you a fool?
He makes a hmm'ing sound at the back of his throat (maybe it does, a happy fool, then), working his way down the middle of Lucifer's wing now, the smaller feathers increasingly softer, increasingly down-like. He's careful with them. After he's righted the worst of the disheveling, Elio reaches up and carefully, gently, runs his palm over where he knows the gland is, getting his fingers all sticky with oil before starting to rub it into the top-row. The light out of them is extraordinary. It's then that he notices Lucifer humming, well, it's not quite a hum, but something similar, vibrations deep in his throat, like purring, maybe, but less... Earthly? Less from here. Elio listen to it for a long time, rubbing oil into the next row of feathers as well, until his fingers are mostly slick-free, and he thinks it means something. He wants it to mean something.
As he reaches up again for his preen gland, fingers going oily in a few rubbing motions, Elio leans in, balancing himself against Lucifer's waist and presses a soft kiss to his lower neck, upper back, between his shoulder blades. Right between his wings. Other than that, he doesn't comment, lets Lucifer keep his secret language to himself and taking away only the knowledge that it exists. That it's in there. That he can make it come out.
Isn't that enough? ]