[ Lucifer lets him, because despite being proud, he's not actually prideful and his masculinity doesn't rely on leading and deciding and giving 100 percent all the time. It's weird how toxicity in men is so common that you don't really realize you've been under its spell forever, until someone comes along who bears no trace of it, Elio thinks. Someone who's completely removed from that whole little human fallacy. Angels got other issues, he's not going to deny that, but toxicity isn't one of them. Rebellious tendencies, maybe. Intrusive superpowers? Sure. But Lucifer's personality is differently assembled. Elio loves that, he loves that he can be his own kind of man around him - and that Lucifer can do the same around Elio. No judgment.
He smiles wider, then, biting his lower lip briefly before looking to the side and catching the waiter's gaze. The man looks half-relieved and half-exasperated as he crosses the room, stopping by their table and asking them if they want the full wine menu which includes three courses, coffee and a drink by the end. His natural inclination is to direct this question at Lucifer and Elio's aware how they must look, especially from an Italian's point of view - if there ever was a nation where the daddy outranks everyone else, this is it, welcome. But of course, Lucifer's no one's daddy, least of all Elio's and tonight, Elio's leading them safely to the finish line himself, so he cocks his head at the waiter and tells him he's ready to place their orders. And so the waiter turns his head towards him almost without a hint of a pause. Yes, sir.
Ordering the fried anchovies for starters, Elio goes on to nod towards the kitchen and asking for the chef's choice of grilled meats for their mains (tell him to be adventurous - we are, tonight), with strict instructions about keeping it medium-rare to rare. Finally, the tiramisu for desserts, extra large portions, please. ] With espressos. [ Elio's voice, kept pleasantly low and even, dies out while the waiter notes all of this down with a slightly quirked eyebrow.
And your drinks? Elio asks him if Diego's on duty tonight, the waiter telling him yes, indeed, he is. ]
Then, we'll have two dry martinis.
[ Stepping back, the waiter gives them a curt nod and shuffles off towards the kitchen. Elio looks across the table at Lucifer, raising one eyebrow slightly. It's not a judge me expression, it never is, between them. It's more of a did I get anything wrong one. Because now's the time to tell me. ]
[ Elio proceeds to take the reins on tonight's dinner extravaganza and Lucifer just watches him, one eyebrow quirked expectantly. He wouldn't necessarily have trusted the Detective to pick out a restaurant for them for a night-out, let alone the food, mostly because, well, her taste pretty much amounts to single-mum-with-a-full-time-job which means fast, easy and uncomplicated. No, if he'd been dating her, he would've carved out the path for them both, made it stylish and elegant, tried to bring a little light into her dreary, murder-infested world.
With Elio... they started out like that too, didn't they, when they didn't know each other well. Lucifer would presume to set the course for them, get Elio a job at Lux, tell him not to waste his Saturdays, ineffectively attempt to mojo his desires out of him. Yes, just as Elio used to have easy-to-skip-on dates, Lucifer's used to creating scenarios, like he created the stars, he's used to setting things in motion, waiting for the individual pieces to fall as they fit, as they choose (because he's not his Father, he doesn't have to know).
He's been treating humanity this way, he thinks. Since the dawn of time.
Leaning back in his chair, he nods and slides his foot more firmly against Elio's, seeking that sense of connection, the feeling of being tethered. He likes the other man's choices, of course. How couldn't he? It's something Elio thinks he'll like and he's even careful enough about it to seek out Lucifer's approval afterwards, the question unvoiced but blatant, clear and precise. ]
Lovely, my dear.
[ He gives the other man a small smile and lets the evening run its course.
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He smiles wider, then, biting his lower lip briefly before looking to the side and catching the waiter's gaze. The man looks half-relieved and half-exasperated as he crosses the room, stopping by their table and asking them if they want the full wine menu which includes three courses, coffee and a drink by the end. His natural inclination is to direct this question at Lucifer and Elio's aware how they must look, especially from an Italian's point of view - if there ever was a nation where the daddy outranks everyone else, this is it, welcome. But of course, Lucifer's no one's daddy, least of all Elio's and tonight, Elio's leading them safely to the finish line himself, so he cocks his head at the waiter and tells him he's ready to place their orders. And so the waiter turns his head towards him almost without a hint of a pause. Yes, sir.
Ordering the fried anchovies for starters, Elio goes on to nod towards the kitchen and asking for the chef's choice of grilled meats for their mains (tell him to be adventurous - we are, tonight), with strict instructions about keeping it medium-rare to rare. Finally, the tiramisu for desserts, extra large portions, please. ] With espressos. [ Elio's voice, kept pleasantly low and even, dies out while the waiter notes all of this down with a slightly quirked eyebrow.
And your drinks? Elio asks him if Diego's on duty tonight, the waiter telling him yes, indeed, he is. ]
Then, we'll have two dry martinis.
[ Stepping back, the waiter gives them a curt nod and shuffles off towards the kitchen. Elio looks across the table at Lucifer, raising one eyebrow slightly. It's not a judge me expression, it never is, between them. It's more of a did I get anything wrong one. Because now's the time to tell me. ]
no subject
With Elio... they started out like that too, didn't they, when they didn't know each other well. Lucifer would presume to set the course for them, get Elio a job at Lux, tell him not to waste his Saturdays, ineffectively attempt to mojo his desires out of him. Yes, just as Elio used to have easy-to-skip-on dates, Lucifer's used to creating scenarios, like he created the stars, he's used to setting things in motion, waiting for the individual pieces to fall as they fit, as they choose (because he's not his Father, he doesn't have to know).
He's been treating humanity this way, he thinks. Since the dawn of time.
Leaning back in his chair, he nods and slides his foot more firmly against Elio's, seeking that sense of connection, the feeling of being tethered. He likes the other man's choices, of course. How couldn't he? It's something Elio thinks he'll like and he's even careful enough about it to seek out Lucifer's approval afterwards, the question unvoiced but blatant, clear and precise. ]
Lovely, my dear.
[ He gives the other man a small smile and lets the evening run its course.
By Elio's design, tonight. ]