[ He comes to with no conscious awareness of time having passed. He was in his apartment (Lucifer's) when he'd last had his eyes open, so as he blinks himself awake, he fully expects to be staring up at those high ceilings, the wide window panels to the balcony, LA by day. It's day here as well, there's definitely light. Just a backdrop behind the dark silhouette of Lucifer, holding him in his arms. Wings curved around him, too. Elio feels warm and cozy like that, held and cared for, enough that he only faintly registers the remnants of a hard-pounding headache and the way the side of his head feels sore. However, the light's different here. As he turns his head to look around, his vision's obstructed by pillows and blankets, like Lucifer's built him a regular fort (a nest), it becomes obvious this isn't the apartment he came from. This is somewhere else. Somewhere cold, he notices. Lucifer's taken him somewhere.
Like Michel had intended to do. Not that the two are remotely the same, of course. Seriously.
Slowly, he sits up, just a little hesitantly pushing himself off Lucifer's lap and getting upright, on his knees, looking around. His breathing is a bit uneven, a bit shallow. Okay, what does he see? Table with tea. Tea-lights. Fairy lights around them. It's quite pretty. In a heartbeat, he decides not to ask where they are, because it doesn't matter, he'll find out eventually, no doubt. Michel isn't here, Lucifer is, that's what matters. He spots the brandy on the table and, with a sideways glance up at Lucifer, almost apologetic, he leans forward, reaching for it. About to raise it to his lips, though, he falters, lets the bottle sink until it's resting on his thighs instead. ]
You heard me. [ A slight frown and Elio looks up at Lucifer more directly, gesturing vaguely with his free hand to indicate his prayer. ] Thank you for coming to my aid. [ Pause. His breathing goes from uneven to flat-out shaking, which he doesn't even try to hide. ] And here Michel thought he'd be the one to save me.
[ Elio comes to in his arms and when he draws away, Lucifer lets him only because anything else would be bloody rude - but oh, he'd actually rather like to just keep him hidden away a little bit, like he's hidden them both away out here in the middle of absolute nowhere. They'll need food at some point - he's ordered a few boxes flown in from Whitehorse, to be delivered in a couple of hours. Other than that, though, they can... stay. For a bit. Just for long enough to re-establish whatever small sense of equilibrium they were both gravitating towards back in L.A., before the Detective tried to poison him. Before Michel tried to fucking kidnap Elio.
He watches Elio, drawing his wings away to curve behind his shoulders and back, scrunching up a bit uncomfortably against the railing. He could probably put them away. He will, in a second. Just -
Elio's breathing is shaking and it's too bad, isn't it, that celestials aren't supposed to kill humans, that him killing Cain is bound to have consequences at some point, as these things go between himself and his father. Otherwise, he'd have thrown that fool off the balcony without a care in the world. ]
He couldn't even save himself.
[ From his own actions, he means. And from Hell. He'll regret the chaos he caused for the rest of his short life, there's no doubt whatsoever. Humans have regret, probably, to help them make the right choices over all. When things go wrong like this, they get eaten up by it instead and that's... well. Tragic.
[ At Lucifer's words, Elio cradles the bottle of brandy between his hands and looks up at him searchingly. It's not because he truly thinks he needs an elaboration. Regardless of how things played out... Michel loved him and he'll regret his actions till the day he dies. Till the day he dies and beyond, is what Lucifer's saying. It makes something knot and hurt in Elio's throat. He wouldn't wish Hell on anyone, he doesn't wish it on Lucifer either. Yet, here they are. Biting his lip and finally giving up all pretenses of restraint, he lifts the bottle to his lips, actually drinking this time while the other man asks about his head. The alcohol burns the lump away effectively. Elio's heaving a bit as it sinks to his lap again, he should just put it back on the table, it's not like he'll need more, is it?
Maybe. ]
It's fine. Sore, but nothing concerning. [ Immediately, he's thrown back to that summer, the summer with Oliver, to the day after their first time, Oliver wanting to know how his... was. If it... hurt. All those ellipses. Things unsaid, because they were shameful. Because Oliver couldn't enjoy him without hating himself a little. Blinking a couple of times, Elio slowly, mechanically puts the bottle of brandy back on the table. The lump's back in his throat as well. He swallows, swallows and swallows, to no avail. After a little while of fighting himself, he remembers that this is Lucifer and he doesn't need to, so he turns towards him again instead, inching closer, all but begging on his knees for the proximity, the comfort of his chest. He reaches out with both hands, buries his fingers in the fabric of Lucifer's shirt, leans in and presses his forehead against the slope of one collarbone. The left. He's got such a bad track record of exes, are you kidding him?
His voice, when he speaks, is muted and hoarse. ] Why isn't it enough that I love people? Why do they have to go and...
[ He trails off. Don't answer, he means. Just hold me, I hate this. ]
[ His eyebrows rise a little at the sight of Elio actually drinking from the brandy bottle, something he's fairly certain the man wouldn't do if he weren't acutely distressed. Of course he is, though. Of course. What does betrayal feel like, after all? A knife in the gut? In the back? Like swallowing a bunch of sharp objects and choking on them simultaneously? It hurts your heart, though, is the thing. It hurts so much.
Watching it on Elio's beautiful features, though, is somehow worse than feeling it himself. It's a baffling idea, really. Celestials aren't particularly built for pesky human things like empathy or kindness.
His wings twitch. He's hurt them by going through that window - small cuts, nearly invisible to the naked eye but there, all the same.
The Detective had been literal miles away.
When Elio draws closer, inching, like he can't quite decide whether he'll even be allowed, Lucifer automatically wraps his arms around him as he presses his forehead against his collarbone, speaking against him, voice muted. Why isn't it enough that I love people he asks and it breaks Lucifer's heart all the more because surely, it should be. Surely a love like this... something so sweet and honest and unassuming... He tightens his grip around him a little, then folds his wings over him too for good measure, until the other man's completely concealed by feathers.
He doesn't reply. Instead, he just kisses the top of Elio's head, curls bouncing lightly against his lips. He turns his gaze upwards towards the sky and simply stares, unblinkingly.
[ And Lucifer doesn't reply, which is good, when Elio really doesn't need an answer, instead he lets these feelings hang between them, heavy and ugly and vulnerable and Elio treasures it, the way he wraps his arms around him and holds him close, kisses his hair, enfolds him in his wings until there's no outlook but shining white and glowing light. There's no log cabin to explain away, no forests, nordic nights. Coldness nipping at his nose and cheeks, none of that. Just the heat of the other man, the comfort of his hold, the immense gratitude Elio feels by being so freely embraced. No shame, like with Oliver. No demands, like with Michel. No expectations he can't meet, like with Marzia or Antonio. Oh, he's used to having to pay for the time he gets, with people, is Elio, if nothing else then the ultimate price that they eventually go away. He loves Lucifer for countless reasons, but most of all because Lucifer has no need or want or maybe even use of the currency Elio can pay him in.
They're not exchanging. They're not trading off. It's the first love he's experienced that didn't leave him poorer or in pieces.
After a while, his breathing has settled a bit and he's inhaling, exhaling, inhaling deep into the fabric of Lucifer's shirt, smelling him everywhere, the familiar scent that signifies him. It's warm and dark. Masculine. It's nice. He sighs and pushes away from his chest a little, just enough to be able to talk more freely, maybe glance up at his face, except there are wings folded around him and he's getting feathers in his hair this way. Reaching up, Elio gently wafts one wing aside, shoo. Outside, there's a whole world. A lake. Trees as far as he can see. Not to mention the cabin itself.
He looks back at Lucifer, reaching up to wipe at his own cheeks where thin trails of tears have dried into nothing but salty tracks. ]
How long are we staying here? [ Pause. He realizes this sounds like he can't wait to go, so he adds, shrugging: ] Honestly, I'm in no hurry to get back.
[ After a long moment, Elio's breathing settles down, his body seemingly loosening up a little and Lucifer simply lets him slip back a little from within his grip when he moves, looking down to meet his gaze. He realises about the same time as Elio that the wings are well and truly in the way now and when the other man pushes at them - gently - he relaxes them, leaving them trailing down his shoulders and back for a moment before he simply leans forward enough to pull them in. They disappear against his back with a hard flap and a gust of wind.
He notes the tear tracks on Elio's cheeks and doesn't comment. After all, why wouldn't he be crying? He was almost abducted by a man he trusted enough to tell him his secrets, his love life, to bare his heart to him. Anger flaring, Lucifer takes a deep breath before he replies, blinking whatever tension might've gathered in his face away. It doesn't matter now. The man's been punished, after all, and Lucifer's done with him.
As is Elio. ]
Don't know. I admit, I didn't really think.
[ A sheepish smile as he sits back a little, reaching around Elio to grab his spiked tea. When he sips it, it's gone cold - obviously - and he winces, shaking his head, then dives right back in. The alcohol's still good; it's basically just watered-down brandy now. He's had worse. He gestures at the lake beyond, the trees stretching out on either side of them. There's no other cabin in sight, no other signs of life aside from the birds whistling through the air and the rustling between the trees. ]
This belongs to a... well. A friend, I suppose you could say. We can stay for as long as we like.
[ Meaning, not someone Lucifer's slept with, probably, they go by a different terminology, Elio's noticed. He raises one eyebrow at the other man's wording, mostly to show he gets the implications and how fortunate for them, isn't it? That there are people in the world who owes the Devil favors like, say, their log cabins far away from everyone and everything.
A small smile and he watches the way Lucifer puts his wings away before drinking his at this point no doubt pretty cold tea, but the alcohol he tends to spike all his drinks with should still work, right? The table's still got brandy on offer, too, another cup of cold tea, and Elio doesn't really feel like any of it, the same restlessness prickling in his limbs, along with the arctic temperatures that are biting into his skin even through his clothes. Layers of blanket, walls of pillows. He sighs and shifts onto his bum, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting first his arms across his knees, then his chin on his arms, curling in around himself a bit. It helps with the warmth. It helps with a lot of things.
And then there are things it doesn't help with at all.
No matter how long they stay here, the world will be waiting for them when they at some point return, no different than before. Even if Michel hopefully hurries back to Paris, he'll still be in Paris, Oliver will still be in New York, Chloe will be in LA like a reminder, they'll blemish so many places across Elio's inner map... Elio feels like this requires fundamental changes. Sure, he'll call in at Colburn, excuse himself profoundly to the principal, sorry I got kidnapped and then, eventually, he'll return to that life, although everything's different now. Lucifer and him are different. ]
I'll need to take a leave of absence at work. [ Glancing sideways up at the other man, the idea hits him out of the blue, like a rare, sudden impulse. The way Lucifer must have flown them here, not thinking. ] Actually, I'll probably just quit.
[ This time, his smile is wider, slightly amused. He reaches for the brandy again with the arm not pillowing his chin and only straightens up enough to chug down another mouthful. ]
If this isn't a sign to, I don't know what would be.
[ He watches over the rim of his cup as Elio shifts about before curling in on himself, his long limbs twisting amidst blankets and pillows, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold. Frowning, he gets to his feet while the other man speaks, raising his eyebrows at his words. He grabs the heater, bare-handed, then growls out a none-too-subtle damn it as it scorches his fingers. That's just dandy, isn't it. Bloody stupid vulnerability, making itself a nuisance - it's not like it really means anything of value, after all, not necessarily. Chloe could be used to hurt him. At this point, that's all he knows about it.
Brows furrowing, he stalks back to the not-quite-pillow fort and grabs a blanket, meeting Elio's gaze as he does so. ]
You want to quit?
[ He pauses, a blank look on his face. Then, a shrug as he turns away and heads for the heater once more, folding the blanket around his hands before grabbing it this time, the material taking the edge off the burn. ]
You know - [ He plops the heater down only a few feet away from Elio, shakes his hands a little and sits down next to him once more. ] - I've been thinking I need a break too. From my break.
[ A wry laugh. ]
Didn't know going on holiday would actually necessitate another holiday but there you have it.
[ Elio nods at Lucifer's question, putting the brandy back on the table and following the other man with his eyes as he gets up, the way his body moves, strong and steady. A heat gathers in his abdomen, it's a mix of the usual kind, the kind that says, I want and something else, something softer, fonder. I love. When Lucifer grabs the heater, Elio doesn't expect there to be a problem, really, usually nothing can hurt him unless Chloe's around, but even so the man growls a damn it and has obviously just burnt himself on the thing, Elio's hands slipping down his own legs. He's ten seconds from getting up, asking are you okay, but Lucifer provides him with the answer without saying a single word, grabbing a blanket and moving the heater closer with it. Sitting down next to him again, the other man's warmth and presence as well - and Elio considers crawling back in his lap, pretty much headfirst. Until he realizes that Lucifer is actually vulnerable. Here. Now. With him.
Oh.
But there you have it, he says. Elio blinks, watching him for a moment with a frown. ]
That's what happens, isn't it? When your way of life gets rudely interrupted by people who want to kill or kidnap you. [ With a loose wrist, Elio gestures softly between them, you and me, it means. It comes with a nod of his head and a small smile, that little comment. ] We need a new way of life, Lucifer. At least for a while. No people who're going to hurt us invited.
[ Carefully letting himself tumble over onto his side, mostly very controlled, he stretches out and puts his head on the other man's thigh, looking up at his face from below. It's a good angle on him. It says, will you trust me with that? Elio meets his eyes, holding his gaze. ]
[ Elio gestures between them, talking about getting rudely interrupted in your life and a part of Lucifer bristles at the thought of Chloe being referred to as people, as someone on par with, say, Michel, that miserable bastard. All the same, when Elio rolls down onto his side and puts his head on Lucifer's thigh, his tension completely dissipates, leaving just the urge to touch, to emphasise the connection between them, physical, incidental, cosmic - whatever it might be. Gaze sliding away from the other man's, he runs his hand through Elio's thick curls, initially at a lazy, uncoordinated pace.
Then, he settles down a little bit further, finds a better angle for his hand and starts picking curls apart from each other, putting them in order, one after the other. It'll leave Elio's hair all puffy once he's done and Lucifer probably shouldn't, it's making him look all sorts of bird-like and unfortunate. Regardless, he keeps going. Puts them in order, strand after strand, pulling gently at the curls and feeling them slide between his fingertips, warm and soft.
When he speaks, his eyes are downcast, following the motion of his own hand. ]
Then, I'll do my utmost.
[ He looks at Elio then, carefully. It's so hard, he thinks, to know what's up and down these days. Whether doing the right thing is even possible when your actions, well-intentioned, open and true, can lead to... He sighs. Continues, lips curving ever-so-slightly: ]
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Like Michel had intended to do. Not that the two are remotely the same, of course. Seriously.
Slowly, he sits up, just a little hesitantly pushing himself off Lucifer's lap and getting upright, on his knees, looking around. His breathing is a bit uneven, a bit shallow. Okay, what does he see? Table with tea. Tea-lights. Fairy lights around them. It's quite pretty. In a heartbeat, he decides not to ask where they are, because it doesn't matter, he'll find out eventually, no doubt. Michel isn't here, Lucifer is, that's what matters. He spots the brandy on the table and, with a sideways glance up at Lucifer, almost apologetic, he leans forward, reaching for it. About to raise it to his lips, though, he falters, lets the bottle sink until it's resting on his thighs instead. ]
You heard me. [ A slight frown and Elio looks up at Lucifer more directly, gesturing vaguely with his free hand to indicate his prayer. ] Thank you for coming to my aid. [ Pause. His breathing goes from uneven to flat-out shaking, which he doesn't even try to hide. ] And here Michel thought he'd be the one to save me.
no subject
He watches Elio, drawing his wings away to curve behind his shoulders and back, scrunching up a bit uncomfortably against the railing. He could probably put them away. He will, in a second. Just -
Elio's breathing is shaking and it's too bad, isn't it, that celestials aren't supposed to kill humans, that him killing Cain is bound to have consequences at some point, as these things go between himself and his father. Otherwise, he'd have thrown that fool off the balcony without a care in the world. ]
He couldn't even save himself.
[ From his own actions, he means. And from Hell. He'll regret the chaos he caused for the rest of his short life, there's no doubt whatsoever. Humans have regret, probably, to help them make the right choices over all. When things go wrong like this, they get eaten up by it instead and that's... well. Tragic.
A design flaw, perhaps. ]
How's your head?
no subject
Maybe. ]
It's fine. Sore, but nothing concerning. [ Immediately, he's thrown back to that summer, the summer with Oliver, to the day after their first time, Oliver wanting to know how his... was. If it... hurt. All those ellipses. Things unsaid, because they were shameful. Because Oliver couldn't enjoy him without hating himself a little. Blinking a couple of times, Elio slowly, mechanically puts the bottle of brandy back on the table. The lump's back in his throat as well. He swallows, swallows and swallows, to no avail. After a little while of fighting himself, he remembers that this is Lucifer and he doesn't need to, so he turns towards him again instead, inching closer, all but begging on his knees for the proximity, the comfort of his chest. He reaches out with both hands, buries his fingers in the fabric of Lucifer's shirt, leans in and presses his forehead against the slope of one collarbone. The left. He's got such a bad track record of exes, are you kidding him?
His voice, when he speaks, is muted and hoarse. ] Why isn't it enough that I love people? Why do they have to go and...
[ He trails off. Don't answer, he means. Just hold me, I hate this. ]
no subject
Watching it on Elio's beautiful features, though, is somehow worse than feeling it himself. It's a baffling idea, really. Celestials aren't particularly built for pesky human things like empathy or kindness.
His wings twitch. He's hurt them by going through that window - small cuts, nearly invisible to the naked eye but there, all the same.
The Detective had been literal miles away.
When Elio draws closer, inching, like he can't quite decide whether he'll even be allowed, Lucifer automatically wraps his arms around him as he presses his forehead against his collarbone, speaking against him, voice muted. Why isn't it enough that I love people he asks and it breaks Lucifer's heart all the more because surely, it should be. Surely a love like this... something so sweet and honest and unassuming... He tightens his grip around him a little, then folds his wings over him too for good measure, until the other man's completely concealed by feathers.
He doesn't reply. Instead, he just kisses the top of Elio's head, curls bouncing lightly against his lips. He turns his gaze upwards towards the sky and simply stares, unblinkingly.
Accusingly. ]
no subject
They're not exchanging. They're not trading off. It's the first love he's experienced that didn't leave him poorer or in pieces.
After a while, his breathing has settled a bit and he's inhaling, exhaling, inhaling deep into the fabric of Lucifer's shirt, smelling him everywhere, the familiar scent that signifies him. It's warm and dark. Masculine. It's nice. He sighs and pushes away from his chest a little, just enough to be able to talk more freely, maybe glance up at his face, except there are wings folded around him and he's getting feathers in his hair this way. Reaching up, Elio gently wafts one wing aside, shoo. Outside, there's a whole world. A lake. Trees as far as he can see. Not to mention the cabin itself.
He looks back at Lucifer, reaching up to wipe at his own cheeks where thin trails of tears have dried into nothing but salty tracks. ]
How long are we staying here? [ Pause. He realizes this sounds like he can't wait to go, so he adds, shrugging: ] Honestly, I'm in no hurry to get back.
no subject
He notes the tear tracks on Elio's cheeks and doesn't comment. After all, why wouldn't he be crying? He was almost abducted by a man he trusted enough to tell him his secrets, his love life, to bare his heart to him. Anger flaring, Lucifer takes a deep breath before he replies, blinking whatever tension might've gathered in his face away. It doesn't matter now. The man's been punished, after all, and Lucifer's done with him.
As is Elio. ]
Don't know. I admit, I didn't really think.
[ A sheepish smile as he sits back a little, reaching around Elio to grab his spiked tea. When he sips it, it's gone cold - obviously - and he winces, shaking his head, then dives right back in. The alcohol's still good; it's basically just watered-down brandy now. He's had worse. He gestures at the lake beyond, the trees stretching out on either side of them. There's no other cabin in sight, no other signs of life aside from the birds whistling through the air and the rustling between the trees. ]
This belongs to a... well. A friend, I suppose you could say. We can stay for as long as we like.
no subject
A small smile and he watches the way Lucifer puts his wings away before drinking his at this point no doubt pretty cold tea, but the alcohol he tends to spike all his drinks with should still work, right? The table's still got brandy on offer, too, another cup of cold tea, and Elio doesn't really feel like any of it, the same restlessness prickling in his limbs, along with the arctic temperatures that are biting into his skin even through his clothes. Layers of blanket, walls of pillows. He sighs and shifts onto his bum, drawing his legs up to his chest and resting first his arms across his knees, then his chin on his arms, curling in around himself a bit. It helps with the warmth. It helps with a lot of things.
And then there are things it doesn't help with at all.
No matter how long they stay here, the world will be waiting for them when they at some point return, no different than before. Even if Michel hopefully hurries back to Paris, he'll still be in Paris, Oliver will still be in New York, Chloe will be in LA like a reminder, they'll blemish so many places across Elio's inner map... Elio feels like this requires fundamental changes. Sure, he'll call in at Colburn, excuse himself profoundly to the principal, sorry I got kidnapped and then, eventually, he'll return to that life, although everything's different now. Lucifer and him are different. ]
I'll need to take a leave of absence at work. [ Glancing sideways up at the other man, the idea hits him out of the blue, like a rare, sudden impulse. The way Lucifer must have flown them here, not thinking. ] Actually, I'll probably just quit.
[ This time, his smile is wider, slightly amused. He reaches for the brandy again with the arm not pillowing his chin and only straightens up enough to chug down another mouthful. ]
If this isn't a sign to, I don't know what would be.
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Brows furrowing, he stalks back to the not-quite-pillow fort and grabs a blanket, meeting Elio's gaze as he does so. ]
You want to quit?
[ He pauses, a blank look on his face. Then, a shrug as he turns away and heads for the heater once more, folding the blanket around his hands before grabbing it this time, the material taking the edge off the burn. ]
You know - [ He plops the heater down only a few feet away from Elio, shakes his hands a little and sits down next to him once more. ] - I've been thinking I need a break too. From my break.
[ A wry laugh. ]
Didn't know going on holiday would actually necessitate another holiday but there you have it.
no subject
Oh.
But there you have it, he says. Elio blinks, watching him for a moment with a frown. ]
That's what happens, isn't it? When your way of life gets rudely interrupted by people who want to kill or kidnap you. [ With a loose wrist, Elio gestures softly between them, you and me, it means. It comes with a nod of his head and a small smile, that little comment. ] We need a new way of life, Lucifer. At least for a while. No people who're going to hurt us invited.
[ Carefully letting himself tumble over onto his side, mostly very controlled, he stretches out and puts his head on the other man's thigh, looking up at his face from below. It's a good angle on him. It says, will you trust me with that? Elio meets his eyes, holding his gaze. ]
no subject
Then, he settles down a little bit further, finds a better angle for his hand and starts picking curls apart from each other, putting them in order, one after the other. It'll leave Elio's hair all puffy once he's done and Lucifer probably shouldn't, it's making him look all sorts of bird-like and unfortunate. Regardless, he keeps going. Puts them in order, strand after strand, pulling gently at the curls and feeling them slide between his fingertips, warm and soft.
When he speaks, his eyes are downcast, following the motion of his own hand. ]
Then, I'll do my utmost.
[ He looks at Elio then, carefully. It's so hard, he thinks, to know what's up and down these days. Whether doing the right thing is even possible when your actions, well-intentioned, open and true, can lead to... He sighs. Continues, lips curving ever-so-slightly: ]
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