[ He stays still as Elio comes up to him, running his hand up his arm, shoulder, and it's such a warm touch, it's warm and sweet and all the other, more complex things he's come to associate with the other man. There's a quiet but immensely prominent strength to him, to how he keeps following, keeps trailing right back into Lucifer's orbit despite all the hurt he's endured throughout the years. Despite how Lucifer could hurt him worse than all of them.
When he leans up and kisses Lucifer's cheek, Lucifer looks down, his eyelids fluttering shut. He thinks about L.A., about the home he'd created for himself and then left behind, trying to escape what he's facing now, what he can't seem to run from: that by his very nature, he'll never truly be at peace. To be at peace, for him, would be true, inevitable defeat.
He straightens up a little. Looks up towards Heaven again, his gaze harder now, no longer wet. He slips his arm around Elio's waist and pulls him up against his side, running his palm down his side, over his hip and back up. His wings slip out from behind his shoulders, stretching out protectively, damaged as they may be. Strong, still. He's nowhere near finished. He can choose not to be. ]
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When he leans up and kisses Lucifer's cheek, Lucifer looks down, his eyelids fluttering shut. He thinks about L.A., about the home he'd created for himself and then left behind, trying to escape what he's facing now, what he can't seem to run from: that by his very nature, he'll never truly be at peace. To be at peace, for him, would be true, inevitable defeat.
He straightens up a little. Looks up towards Heaven again, his gaze harder now, no longer wet. He slips his arm around Elio's waist and pulls him up against his side, running his palm down his side, over his hip and back up. His wings slip out from behind his shoulders, stretching out protectively, damaged as they may be. Strong, still. He's nowhere near finished. He can choose not to be. ]
Then that's what we'll do.