[ It's a quiet morning by the small lake in Bordighera when Lucifer touches down on the grassy flats close to the water. He stands still for a brief, brief moment, breathing the air in, the freshness of it. The sounds of birds chirping. A lonely car, approaching in the distance. This is Earth, he thinks, a none-too-small part of him marveling at the sheer concept of it.
Life.
He folds his wings away, ash flickering in the air behind him. Then, he walks. Follows the trail back to the house, the summer home. Elio's Eden and his, too, once upon a time. More than two hundred years ago. It's nothing, obviously, to the span of an immortal existence but right now, he's stepping onto the plane of mortals, isn't he, where even three days can mean a world of difference.
Like, say, the difference between life and death.
On this way to the main door of the house, he pauses again. Just looks at it, that old, Italian villa and the shadows it casts in the early morning light. He remembers days spent here, warm hands, Elio's mouth. His eyes. Taking another deep breath, he feels his spine prickle and turns, knowing exactly what he'll find behind him.
The old man, recently dead, looks desperately sad, his eyes wide and his cheeks wet with tears. Please, he whispers, like they always do, and Lucifer sees how familiar he looks, how achingly well-known. With a soft flick of his hand, he sends the soul surging downwards, through the Earth, further yet, feeling the barrier opening and closing. He thinks about Elio. About Elio, locked in that darkness for thousands and thousands of years. The thought chills him to the core, even now, even after contemplating it for decades.
Then, shoulders set, he walks to the house and knocks on the door. He promised, after all.
[ The second night, too, he sits wake from midnight till morning, Miranda having just arrived to take his place. Ollie's still sleeping, she says, tired but strong, your mother's in the kitchen making breakfast, his father has always chosen strong women, Elio's mother is the same way. Italian, granted, but sturdy. Once he loved someone like Elio loved Oliver, his father did, but he never put a gender to them, it's just... Elio wouldn't be surprised. His father was full of hidden depths, nooks and corners Elio only ever had time to glimpse. He was a man who knew many things and now, he's gone.
Elio moves into the kitchen at a slow pace, like someone much older than his thirty-four years, the door to the living room ajar, a glimpse of terrace doors and piano there. He kisses his mother's cheek, grabbing one of the bowls of cut fruit she's been making on the way and sits down at the kitchen table, remembering Lucifer's wings, remembering the blood feathers and the itching. The itch to touch. Always that, with Lucifer. The need for contact.
It's been three days now.
Then, there's a knock on the front door.
His mother turns slowly, reminiscent of Miranda, tired but strong. If it's Giovanni again, we don't need more bread, she says, referring to the baker in town who's been by three times since they returned with his father's body, offering them (mostly non-kosher) baked goods. He means well, they're Jews of discretion, after all, how could he know? Elio nods and leaves his untouched fruit on the table, moving down the hallway to the door, feeling worn. Feeling empty.
Alone.
Though, apparently, someone's now waiting on the other end, right? Elio opens the door, also slowly, everything slowly, about to tell Giovanni thanks, but no thanks, when he looks up - and up and up and it isn't Giovanni at all, it's... it's... A small gasp. ]
Oh. [ He did promise. And he did keep his promise, too. Elio blinks, once, twice, then smiles, wider than he has for days, and meets the other man's eyes. ] I'm so glad to see you, Lucifer.
[ The door opens after a moment, the sound of movement from inside the house translating through the old walls into dull echoes, impossible to interpret. Movement towards, it seems like. The natural conclusion.
Lucifer stares at Elio, unblinkingly, taking him in as he stands there in the doorway, looking exactly the same if perhaps a little worn around the edges. Keeping watch over the dead will do that to a person, Lucifer's quite aware. He's smiling at him and that, too, mirrors Lucifer's last memory of him to perfection, the one he's been treasuring in Hell ever since. Of course, last time they were saying goodbye.
This time...
Well.
Tilting his head slightly sideways, Lucifer feels himself fiddle with his suit jacket, tucking at the fabric, trying to decide upon his next move. There's a part of him that wants to just grab him, reach out and pull him close, but then, alongside that inclination, there's knowledge and with it, doubts. Questions. I can't ask this of him, he'd said to Maze for the umpteenth time to which she'd ended up simply replying, You never fucking stop talking, Lucifer.
He doesn't want to give Elio any further promises because mostly everything he wants to offer would amount to little but temporary half-truths. So he stays where he is, then clears his throat. ]
Come for a walk with me.
[ He steps back a little, then adds, voice trembling ever-so-slightly on the last word: ]
I'm glad to see you too. More than you can imagine.
[ There's a moment, brief and temporary, where they stand before each other like strangers. Kind strangers, certainly, but strangers nonetheless. Elio looks at him, he looks and he looks and he looks, feeling Lucifer do the same, as they reacquaint themselves with each other's features, the faces they know so well, they've traced every line with their lips, their tongues, their fingers. Come for a walk with me, Lucifer tells him, because obviously they need to talk, they need to talk about why the dead are still roaming the Earth, why Elio's father roams with them, they need to talk about why their first greeting is quiet, when they could be kissing each other deep on the mouth and making promises of forevers that wouldn't become inevitable lies.
They need to talk about how Lucifer's voice trembles when he says he's glad to see Elio, too. What it all means.
So, Elio nods, replies of course and wait here, before hurrying down the hallway again, much faster this time than before, telling his mother quickly in the door that he's going for a walk. Who was at the door, she wants to know and Elio doesn't hesitate before telling her, my boyfriend. They look at each other a long moment, his mother and him, then she smiles (tiredly, but strong) and shushes him off. Go, she says. Go, Elio. On the way back, he grabs his jacket from the closet and shrugs it out over his plain white t-shirt, meeting Lucifer in the doorway once more and closing the door behind him.
It's like another world, in there. A dead world.
He grabs Lucifer's arm, then, grabs him by the wrist and just holds him, fingers closed tightly around that elegant, but frailer than the rest point of bones. His own voice shakes a little, too, as he says: ]
Let's go to the water.
[ At the back of his mind, Elio remembers. He remembers Anchise's bench, with room for two grown men and nothing more. He remembers his first dream about Lucifer, sitting with him like that. Companionable silence. They can't afford the silence today, he knows, but the rest? The rest they can have, just like that.
Pulling at him, gently, just because Lucifer won't break doesn't mean he won't bruise, not with Elio, Elio starts down the well-trodden path leading to the sea. ]
[ Lucifer's shoulders sink a little as Elio grabs his hand and starts down the path towards the water. Even though the circumstances are... what they are (he's lost, again, Lucifer, he can do nothing else against his Father, it's amazing that he'll keep deluding himself, over and over), there's something incredible about simply feeling Elio's skin again against his own, the strength of his beautiful fingers. His inner warmth, radiating outwards.
Would he bruise, still, he wonders, if he were to stub his toe right now? In Hell, his vulnerability disappeared, of course - that place is not for vulnerability, not if you're planning on ruling it. Frowning as he follows along after the other man, he experimentally gives his lower lip a hard but careful little nibble. The resultant spark of pain, accompanied seconds later by the taste of copper on his tongue makes him feel almost deliriously relieved. He licks the spot, twice. Then, feeling suddenly daring, he drifts closer to Elio and wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him closer to his body as they walk. ]
I've missed you.
[ The words feel too small, compared to the actual experience. He swallows again, curling his hand tighter over the other man's slim hip. ]
I would not have taken so long, except...
[ He trails off. His gaze glides sideways, away, and he wonders whether there's any possible way to draw this out, to keep the truth from tearing a potential gap between them for a little while longer yet. He's come to terms with it, he'd thought, before he left for Earth. The notion of... impending separation. Of knowing that even something as wonderful as this - of course, his Father would have tainted it. Of course he would have made it impossible because nothing hurts quite as much as thinking you're loved, that you get to love in return, only to find yourself excluded from the opportunity for the rest of eternity.
He knows.
But here they are, all the same. Apparently, that's just the kind of person Lucifer is. Poison, his Father said, from the very beginning and once God makes his declarations, nothing truly ever escapes.
[ They walk five steps, then Lucifer pulls him in against him, their sides colliding softly, controlled, their steps falling in sync easily, although Lucifer's legs are longer and Elio's at a height where his head could rest on his shoulder, no problem. Elio breathes out hard, releasing the other man's wrist and slipping his hand playfully into the pocket of his suit jacket, just feeling the luxurious fabric, the heat of him through layers and layers, but not for days and days - or who knows how long has passed in Hell. Elio doesn't. Elio doesn't ask. Time seems edged into the lines of Lucifer's face, the way he says, I've missed you, before he goes on to apologizing. For not being here. For being where he belongs instead.
It's not that Elio doesn't understand, but he wishes he could belong with him, right? He'd just like to... not be so human, for once. Being human hurts and he's really, honestly hurt enough the past three days and before then, too. If nothing else, Elio knows hurt and he's not afraid of it anymore. So he curls his fingers in the fabric of Lucifer's pocket and pushes up close against his side, feeling his proximity, feeling how near they can actually be to each other when allowed.
But they won't be allowed, will they? What kind of blessing is that?
None of them questions he ends up asking, though. He won't presume anything, Lucifer came back like he promised, for some indeterminable amount of time that must be regarded as a gift on its own. Whatever follows, well, it follows. It follows. ]
It can't be fixed, can it?
[ Death is the human condition. Parting is.
They're walking by the pomegranate trees, big ruby fruits weighing the branches down on their right and Elio knows what they look like, he's eaten the fruit and shaken the trees and he's much more interested in Lucifer's face, the way he seems weighed down by unseen, unaccounted years. Not decades, centuries, it looks like. Elio frowns, curls his fingers a little tighter, the fabric will be an invisible bundle on the inside of Lucifer's suit when he's done. A mark only the two of them will know about. He looks up at the other man. Expression open, not wary, not curious, just. Ready. ]
[ Elio follows his initiative, the way he's done always (as long as always is, between them - hundreds of years now, to Lucifer, though the past many have been played out only by memory) and when he slips his hand into the pocket of his suit jacket, all playful and sweet and unpretentious, the ache in Lucifer's chest intensifies, becomes heavy, like he shouldn't by rights be capable of breath. It can't be fixed, can it says Elio and looks up at him, expression open. Prepared, too. For being told no and goodbye and never, all those expectations of hurt that Lucifer hadn't wanted for him.
Not again.
He shakes his head, though what he says is: ]
It can. [ A scowl. ] 'Fixed' might not be the right term, however.
[ Continuing on, past the pomegranate trees, he can smell the sea not too far away. Hear it too, the gentle sway of the waves, the way the water laps at the shore. Eats away at it, too, in bits and pieces, too tiny to see but not to comprehend. He closes his eyes and imagines Elio down there, with him, in the darkness, ash gathering in his curls whilst Hell tries to seep into him, too, and turn him to something worse than stone.
Tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, he wipes his face angrily with his free hand and leans in against Elio. He looks away because that's all he dares, forcing the next words past his lips. ]
If you were to - [ Pause. Breathe. ] - to follow me down, the loops may be restored. The barrier between Hell and Earth, solidified.
[ He finally looks at the other man, his eyes still shining and wet. ]
I felt it. Calling for you. [ And harsher: ] This is all my fault.
[ Lucifer explains to him in words that only leave Elio with more questions. It can be fixed, he says - then, why. If you follow me, he says - if I, oh. This is all my fault, he says, this is all my fault. If it is, Elio wants to tell him, I love you, I love you. ]
Because you need me - [ Coming to a halt, Elio turns his back on the glimpse of the sea beyond the vegetation, the olive trees and the flat expanses of beach where he used to go when he was younger to have sex. He turns towards Lucifer, pulling his hand from his pocket, but staying close, merely twisted a little in his hold. The other man is visibly upset, his eyes shining wetly and his voice harsh, no light judgments passed. Never with Lucifer. As if it's a bad thing, this, as if this apparent opportunity for them to be together is anything but a gift. Elio frowns. Reaches up with both hands and cups Lucifer's face softly, stroking one cheek with his thumb, same gesture he did when they said goodbye, just doubled, because this isn't goodbye.
Doesn't Lucifer see? This is the blessing.
If Hell needs him, too, that's their way of being together, that's how they overcome the ingrained difference between them, the one dictated in divine terms, the one Elio thought could never be bridged, but Lucifer has done it for him, just by needing him, so simply. He honestly never thought he'd even catch himself thinking it, but it seems God does work in mysterious ways. ] - now Hell needs me? Will we be able to be together there?
[ The winds are still pleasantly warm this late in September, though sharper and saltier the closer to the sea they get. The breeze plays with Lucifer's hair, it probably plays with Elio's, too. Faintly, he remembers the myth of Persephone, abducted to Hades for half the year. Lucifer is more than reluctant to abduct him and Elio gets that as well, they're old issues, parental ones, they're rebellious streaks and mere stubbornness.
None of which has to do with Elio, of course. Elio just wants. He wants him so much, it hurts. Luckily, Elio is used to that, isn't he? Hurting. What he isn't used to is getting. ]
[ Elio turns towards him and cups his cheeks with his fingers, holding him between his hands and there's something very appropriate about that thought, about the other man holding pretty much everything that he is. Lucifer stares at him as Elio apparently gets it without any further explanations though he doesn't seem particularly bothered. Will we be able he asks, like his presence down there might just be a foregone conclusion and Lucifer wants to scream, upwards, he wants to tear the sky apart. Of course, sweet Elio who follows him in all things between them, of course. Of course, he'd do this thing as well, this perverse, terrible, thing.
Shaking, Lucifer pulls away, not as gently as he ought. He steps past Elio and stops, less than two feet away, gaze locked on the sea in the distance, the horizon stretching wide beyond it. He flew Elio out across the bay in L.A., back when he'd been hurt by his ex-lover. They'd watched the pier light up and he'd been warm in Lucifer's arms, warm and small. Protected, he'd thought.
And even down there, surely, he would be.
Except Lucifer had sworn he'd fix this and he hasn't. ]
You've already... [ He breaks off. Tries again, his voice not as harsh now, nowhere near accusing: ] Elio, you can't possibly want this. I'm not even certain how it would work - what it would be like. Whether it might swallow you up.
[ He shakes his head, running both hands through his hair in agitation. Some of it has started curling a little; the hair products down in Hell aren't worth much, as with all other commodities. ]
[ The moment Lucifer allows himself to be held is brief, he soon shakes himself loose, clearly agitated or he'd have been less harsh in his movements, not that Elio holds it against him as he steps around him, stopping some feet away, Elio turning after him slowly. He understands, he understands, but Lucifer is not the one being given the choice here, he's the giver of it and the rest is for Elio to decide. Just this once, Lucifer's feelings on the matter will have to take a backseat. Sorry, love, please let me, let me, right? Elio's arms hang uselessly by his sides, fingers curled into fists and he licks his lips, searching for the right words to express what he wants, what he needs to say. Then, Lucifer tells him that Hell might swallow him up and Elio's jaw tenses. ]
Being up here without you swallows me up, Lucifer.
[ It's not a hard exclamation, but it comes out with more decisiveness than he usually puts into his voice. Quiet strength. The strength that comes of three days without and without and without. Dead world, he thinks. Hurt, he thinks. Finally, Elio just shakes his head and walks over to Lucifer, the man pulling at his own hair, waging a war against both himself and his Father and whatever's come in between them at this point. Everything. Lucifer is fighting everything and therefore, he will lose, again. Elio places a soothing hand on his shoulder, just rubbing it, his upper arm. They're out of sight of the house, he wants to kiss him so badly. ]
If you're giving me the choice, I choose to be with you. [ And Lucifer is giving him the choice, because that's what the Devil does. A small pause, he takes a deep breath - it's just a way of emphasizing that he's heard what the other man has to say, he acknowledges his opinion and reserves the right to disagree. If Hell reflects him, it isn't awful, after all, it's struggling. That's different. ] Whatever the conditions.
[ Hand slipping up the side of Lucifer's neck to his hair, he gently shoos away the other man's hands and goes about slicking it back, one careful, slow stroke of his fingers at a time. ]
[ He hears the steadiness in Elio's voice, the clarity. He's never harsh or authoritative, no, but he does know what he wants, what he doesn't. He's capable of making perfectly legitimate, sensible choices. Lucifer knows. He trusts him more than... well. He does.
He does.
When the other man steps up closer to him and rubs his shoulder, his fingers slipping up to his neck as he speaks and nudging his panicked hands out of the way, Lucifer slumps a bit where he stands, crossing his arms in front of himself mostly to give that last bit of tension, that darkness coiled in his chest, some sort of exit route. At the feel of Elio's fingertips running through his hair, brushing over his scalp and setting each strand a-right (not unlike what he used to do when he'd groom his wings), Lucifer closes his eyes. Stands there silently for a long while, simply letting the calm of Elio's decisiveness, the quiet around them, seep into his nervous system. The trees around them rustle and further down, the sea rolls in, again and again.
Finally, Lucifer reaches into his pocket and brings out the long piece of silver that materialized amongst Mazikeen's weapons one day, out of nowhere, a few days into his arrival back in Hell. It looks like a link-less armband, maybe, except it comes without locks and without any sort of adornments. She'd come up to his throne, flapping it at his face and looking completely, utterly disturbed - after all, she'd said, if I'm supposed to torture anyone with this thing, I'm not even sure where I'd put it or why. He'd taken it and thought little of it for a while until slowly but surely, data started piling up whilst Amenadiel researched. He'd had Ella's help, apparently; she'd figured out the truth whilst doing her own little investigation into Cain's death - that little woman won't let herself be fooled for long.
In any case. He looks it over, eyebrows furrowed. It's shiny, true, but otherwise pretty unremarkable.
As he leans back against Elio a little, however, it folds from between his fingers and stretches out to its full length, seemingly trying to crawl through the air and around Lucifer. Within long, it's flat-out struggling, trying to crawl up his arm, under his hand, wriggling like a snake between his fingers.
Trying, desperately, to get to Elio.
It's true, then, isn't it. ]
The conditions are unclear.
[ He grabs it between both hands and it twitches pathetically between his fingers. Turning, dislodging Elio's fingers in the process, he holds it out between them. He can feel it buzzing at the sight of the other man, this thing, glittering in the sun. ]
One day, this simply existed.
[ A small smirk, half-hearted. Worried. ]
And apparently, it's been quite lonely without you.
[ While he fixes the other man's hair, one strand at a time, slowly stroking over his scalp, aligning each lock, Lucifer simultaneously relaxes and tenses, as if the ambivalence won't leave him, but then again, it's a lifelong battle they're dismantling and a life, for someone like Lucifer, is without end. Elio allows him time, keeps slicking his hair back until the other man turns around and thus, dislodges his grip. Elio lets his hands drop to his sides, looking up at him searchingly. Lucifer has taken out what looks like a silver bracelet, no links or locks, but it's dangling between his fingers, coiling like a snake. Like it's got a life of its own. The conditions are unclear, says the Devil and Elio would laugh and tell him, that's life for you, isn't it, if he didn't suddenly feel this strong impulse to touch the thing between the other man's hands, to feel the weight of the armband, to feel the character of it. He's left with the notion that they would match, they'd match just right.
One day, this simply existed, Lucifer says, and apparently, it's been quite lonely without you.
Raising his gaze from the bracelet, the silver catching glimpses of light like a mirror, interpreting a motif, and to Lucifer's face slowly, Elio can't help but smile. If this thing that suddenly existed in Hell of all places has been lonely without him, then it's because Lucifer was, first. It's how it works, it seems. In Hell, Lucifer is not only King, he's Creator. All mythologies have their own Hades. Elio has just happened to fall in love with the Abrahamic one, lucky him. He reaches out both hands, watching the poor thing more or less try to swing back and forth between Lucifer's fingers, until they finally connect, a little piece of silver slipping between Elio's fingertips and it's burning hot, like fire, the whole piece buzzing happily. Elio doesn't feel sorry for it, like he doesn't feel sorry for Lucifer, but he is quite pleased as he takes it from the other man, lets it slide around his fingers, left hand, wrist, forearm.
It's snake-like which is all sorts of fitting, right? Considering who made it for him. ]
Apparently - [ Elio looks up from his now encircled arm to meet Lucifer's eyes, because he's talking to the man and not the piece of sentient metal currently wrapping around his arm twice as if to secure its own position, as if to secure Elio's, whatever it is now. Persephone? Queen of the Dead? He smiles, softly. Amused. ] - I've been quite lonely without you, too, Lucifer.
[ The silver ring seems to lock in place around his arm, tight-fitting, but without tautening, Elio wouldn't find a single bruise on his skin, he's sure. The weight of the armband itself is almost unnoticeable, what weighs on him is the feel of dimensions, like his world just went from 3D to... 30D. He draws in a deep breath, lifts his arm to look at the thing for a moment, then lifts his gaze to meet Lucifer's worried expression. ]
[ The silver bracelet - because it is one, apparently - practically jumps into Elio's waiting hands, snaking up his arm to lie against his wrist, curled up snugly. Lucifer feels oddly at peace at the sight of it. Which... probably means that he's somehow affected by its presence which is just fine, obviously, like he's not already much too affected by everything, ever. He sighs. Meets Elio's gaze, looking as he settles with the bracelet, with whatever it does to him whilst attached. Something changes with his appearance, too, something that wouldn't be immediately obvious to anyone not celestial. But to Lucifer, Elio suddenly loses all traces of otherness.
Like he's been family all along.
Would you look at that. ]
It's you, I think. An extension of you, the way you are.
[ A half-smile. ]
To me.
[ Remarkable, yes. A good word. He brushes his fingers over the bracelet, feeling it humming in response. Then, quite easily, he completes the movement by sliding his hand over Elio's knuckles, fingers, before linking their hands. Something powerful and very familiar surges through him and his wings unfurl at it, snapping out to either side. They aren't quite as impressive-looking as they could be - when he left, they'd been groomed to perfection but in Hell, well, that's not an option. He's done the best he could with a Hell-loop-created shower but all the same, they are... not at their best.
They still take up quite a lot of space, like, enough for him to whack his flight feathers against a pomegranate tree, a couple of fruits tumbling to the ground a split second later.
He pouts a little.
Thanks Dad, for making him wear the most infuriatingly stupid appendages in the known bloody universe. ]
[ It's you, I think, Lucifer says, Elio feeling himself actually blush a little. He was never good with compliments, especially not ones from people he treasured, those were the exactly worst, actually. Shaking his head a little, not in response to anything in particular of what Lucifer has said, he looks down to watch the other man brush his fingers over what is now very much a bracelet locked around Elio's wrist, before running them down over the back of his hand, his knuckles, then interlacing their fingers gently. It's a slow motion, he feels every single second of it separately, like running his fingers over the keys of the piano and drawing out each note, the same sentiment. Somehow Elio knows now that he's exalted from one state to another, that he isn't fully human any longer and that his life will look inherently different from hereon out. He's okay with that. He's okay with the implications. The consequences, even when unsure and unknown. He's walked into so many other situations blind, this one at least he'll face together with an excellent guide.
Looking up at Lucifer, he catches him just in time to see his wings unfurl, knocking a couple of pomegranates off the nearest tree and he smiles, looking down, still red-cheeked and invigorated. He gives Lucifer's hand a small squeeze and then releases him, stepping closer, slipping his fingers into the thick fabric of his shirt, grabbing hold. They're standing close enough that he can feel him, chest to chest. Heartbeat. Heat. Elio tips his head back and looks straight up into his face, wings like framework behind him. They look a bit sad again.
Hell will be a place for wing-grooming from now on, trust him. ]
You should kiss me and then you should carry me off.
[ It's his final permission. Spoken. Given freely. Willingly.
He'll be leaving his family behind, in the midst of their greatest sorrow, but his family is one of strong women who can fend for themselves, Elio thinks that's where he gets his... whatever it is from. His mother who says, go, Elio, go. She knew. She felt it, feminine intuition, that he wouldn't be coming back, he gets that distinct feeling. And it relieves him.
Running his palms flat up Lucifer's front, he watches the bracelet catch the light like it holds a little bit of sun inside. ]
[ There's something about Elio's face, about the light shining within his eyes, beneath his skin, that feels realer than anything else he's ever encountered. Like they're a matched set, him and Elio, his own wings glittering faintly in the sun as well, durable still, despite all that's come before. For the first time, he looks at Elio, wearing that bracelet, and thinks that maybe... maybe...
Just maybe.
Maybe this won't be another Fall.
He leans into the touch of Elio's palms, hating himself all over for that spark of hope, that foolish notion that maybe this really is what it looks like, maybe Elio is supposed to traverse both worlds to keep the balance because the ruler of Hell can no longer rule alone. Amenadiel had been quite certain, last they spoke. It's all the talk up in the Silver City, too, an all-consuming question for his family when they'd but given up upon the answer. Has Samael been forgiven at last?
Picking Elio up in his arms, Lucifer leans in and kisses him. It's a long, slow kiss, simply lips against lips at first before he dips his tongue inside briefly, to get that taste back in his mouth. Maybe it's been two hundred years and that's why everything feels like more, now, like an emphasis. But it does. Elio feels like himself times a hundred, his taste and scent shooting straight into Lucifer's bloodstream. He closes his eyes and holds him close.
Giving his Father yet another chance - another touch of faith, always another, even now - Lucifer dives downwards, clutching Elio to his chest and taking them both away, down and down, beyond the Earth. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Life.
He folds his wings away, ash flickering in the air behind him. Then, he walks. Follows the trail back to the house, the summer home. Elio's Eden and his, too, once upon a time. More than two hundred years ago. It's nothing, obviously, to the span of an immortal existence but right now, he's stepping onto the plane of mortals, isn't he, where even three days can mean a world of difference.
Like, say, the difference between life and death.
On this way to the main door of the house, he pauses again. Just looks at it, that old, Italian villa and the shadows it casts in the early morning light. He remembers days spent here, warm hands, Elio's mouth. His eyes. Taking another deep breath, he feels his spine prickle and turns, knowing exactly what he'll find behind him.
The old man, recently dead, looks desperately sad, his eyes wide and his cheeks wet with tears. Please, he whispers, like they always do, and Lucifer sees how familiar he looks, how achingly well-known. With a soft flick of his hand, he sends the soul surging downwards, through the Earth, further yet, feeling the barrier opening and closing. He thinks about Elio. About Elio, locked in that darkness for thousands and thousands of years. The thought chills him to the core, even now, even after contemplating it for decades.
Then, shoulders set, he walks to the house and knocks on the door. He promised, after all.
He promised. ]
no subject
Elio moves into the kitchen at a slow pace, like someone much older than his thirty-four years, the door to the living room ajar, a glimpse of terrace doors and piano there. He kisses his mother's cheek, grabbing one of the bowls of cut fruit she's been making on the way and sits down at the kitchen table, remembering Lucifer's wings, remembering the blood feathers and the itching. The itch to touch. Always that, with Lucifer. The need for contact.
It's been three days now.
Then, there's a knock on the front door.
His mother turns slowly, reminiscent of Miranda, tired but strong. If it's Giovanni again, we don't need more bread, she says, referring to the baker in town who's been by three times since they returned with his father's body, offering them (mostly non-kosher) baked goods. He means well, they're Jews of discretion, after all, how could he know? Elio nods and leaves his untouched fruit on the table, moving down the hallway to the door, feeling worn. Feeling empty.
Alone.
Though, apparently, someone's now waiting on the other end, right? Elio opens the door, also slowly, everything slowly, about to tell Giovanni thanks, but no thanks, when he looks up - and up and up and it isn't Giovanni at all, it's... it's... A small gasp. ]
Oh. [ He did promise. And he did keep his promise, too. Elio blinks, once, twice, then smiles, wider than he has for days, and meets the other man's eyes. ] I'm so glad to see you, Lucifer.
no subject
Lucifer stares at Elio, unblinkingly, taking him in as he stands there in the doorway, looking exactly the same if perhaps a little worn around the edges. Keeping watch over the dead will do that to a person, Lucifer's quite aware. He's smiling at him and that, too, mirrors Lucifer's last memory of him to perfection, the one he's been treasuring in Hell ever since. Of course, last time they were saying goodbye.
This time...
Well.
Tilting his head slightly sideways, Lucifer feels himself fiddle with his suit jacket, tucking at the fabric, trying to decide upon his next move. There's a part of him that wants to just grab him, reach out and pull him close, but then, alongside that inclination, there's knowledge and with it, doubts. Questions. I can't ask this of him, he'd said to Maze for the umpteenth time to which she'd ended up simply replying, You never fucking stop talking, Lucifer.
He doesn't want to give Elio any further promises because mostly everything he wants to offer would amount to little but temporary half-truths. So he stays where he is, then clears his throat. ]
Come for a walk with me.
[ He steps back a little, then adds, voice trembling ever-so-slightly on the last word: ]
I'm glad to see you too. More than you can imagine.
no subject
They need to talk about how Lucifer's voice trembles when he says he's glad to see Elio, too. What it all means.
So, Elio nods, replies of course and wait here, before hurrying down the hallway again, much faster this time than before, telling his mother quickly in the door that he's going for a walk. Who was at the door, she wants to know and Elio doesn't hesitate before telling her, my boyfriend. They look at each other a long moment, his mother and him, then she smiles (tiredly, but strong) and shushes him off. Go, she says. Go, Elio. On the way back, he grabs his jacket from the closet and shrugs it out over his plain white t-shirt, meeting Lucifer in the doorway once more and closing the door behind him.
It's like another world, in there. A dead world.
He grabs Lucifer's arm, then, grabs him by the wrist and just holds him, fingers closed tightly around that elegant, but frailer than the rest point of bones. His own voice shakes a little, too, as he says: ]
Let's go to the water.
[ At the back of his mind, Elio remembers. He remembers Anchise's bench, with room for two grown men and nothing more. He remembers his first dream about Lucifer, sitting with him like that. Companionable silence. They can't afford the silence today, he knows, but the rest? The rest they can have, just like that.
Pulling at him, gently, just because Lucifer won't break doesn't mean he won't bruise, not with Elio, Elio starts down the well-trodden path leading to the sea. ]
no subject
Would he bruise, still, he wonders, if he were to stub his toe right now? In Hell, his vulnerability disappeared, of course - that place is not for vulnerability, not if you're planning on ruling it. Frowning as he follows along after the other man, he experimentally gives his lower lip a hard but careful little nibble. The resultant spark of pain, accompanied seconds later by the taste of copper on his tongue makes him feel almost deliriously relieved. He licks the spot, twice. Then, feeling suddenly daring, he drifts closer to Elio and wraps his arm around his waist, pulling him closer to his body as they walk. ]
I've missed you.
[ The words feel too small, compared to the actual experience. He swallows again, curling his hand tighter over the other man's slim hip. ]
I would not have taken so long, except...
[ He trails off. His gaze glides sideways, away, and he wonders whether there's any possible way to draw this out, to keep the truth from tearing a potential gap between them for a little while longer yet. He's come to terms with it, he'd thought, before he left for Earth. The notion of... impending separation. Of knowing that even something as wonderful as this - of course, his Father would have tainted it. Of course he would have made it impossible because nothing hurts quite as much as thinking you're loved, that you get to love in return, only to find yourself excluded from the opportunity for the rest of eternity.
He knows.
But here they are, all the same. Apparently, that's just the kind of person Lucifer is. Poison, his Father said, from the very beginning and once God makes his declarations, nothing truly ever escapes.
Look at Elio, now.
Indeed. ]
no subject
It's not that Elio doesn't understand, but he wishes he could belong with him, right? He'd just like to... not be so human, for once. Being human hurts and he's really, honestly hurt enough the past three days and before then, too. If nothing else, Elio knows hurt and he's not afraid of it anymore. So he curls his fingers in the fabric of Lucifer's pocket and pushes up close against his side, feeling his proximity, feeling how near they can actually be to each other when allowed.
But they won't be allowed, will they? What kind of blessing is that?
None of them questions he ends up asking, though. He won't presume anything, Lucifer came back like he promised, for some indeterminable amount of time that must be regarded as a gift on its own. Whatever follows, well, it follows. It follows. ]
It can't be fixed, can it?
[ Death is the human condition. Parting is.
They're walking by the pomegranate trees, big ruby fruits weighing the branches down on their right and Elio knows what they look like, he's eaten the fruit and shaken the trees and he's much more interested in Lucifer's face, the way he seems weighed down by unseen, unaccounted years. Not decades, centuries, it looks like. Elio frowns, curls his fingers a little tighter, the fabric will be an invisible bundle on the inside of Lucifer's suit when he's done. A mark only the two of them will know about. He looks up at the other man. Expression open, not wary, not curious, just. Ready. ]
no subject
Not again.
He shakes his head, though what he says is: ]
It can. [ A scowl. ] 'Fixed' might not be the right term, however.
[ Continuing on, past the pomegranate trees, he can smell the sea not too far away. Hear it too, the gentle sway of the waves, the way the water laps at the shore. Eats away at it, too, in bits and pieces, too tiny to see but not to comprehend. He closes his eyes and imagines Elio down there, with him, in the darkness, ash gathering in his curls whilst Hell tries to seep into him, too, and turn him to something worse than stone.
Tears prickling in the corner of his eyes, he wipes his face angrily with his free hand and leans in against Elio. He looks away because that's all he dares, forcing the next words past his lips. ]
If you were to - [ Pause. Breathe. ] - to follow me down, the loops may be restored. The barrier between Hell and Earth, solidified.
[ He finally looks at the other man, his eyes still shining and wet. ]
I felt it. Calling for you. [ And harsher: ] This is all my fault.
no subject
Because you need me - [ Coming to a halt, Elio turns his back on the glimpse of the sea beyond the vegetation, the olive trees and the flat expanses of beach where he used to go when he was younger to have sex. He turns towards Lucifer, pulling his hand from his pocket, but staying close, merely twisted a little in his hold. The other man is visibly upset, his eyes shining wetly and his voice harsh, no light judgments passed. Never with Lucifer. As if it's a bad thing, this, as if this apparent opportunity for them to be together is anything but a gift. Elio frowns. Reaches up with both hands and cups Lucifer's face softly, stroking one cheek with his thumb, same gesture he did when they said goodbye, just doubled, because this isn't goodbye.
Doesn't Lucifer see? This is the blessing.
If Hell needs him, too, that's their way of being together, that's how they overcome the ingrained difference between them, the one dictated in divine terms, the one Elio thought could never be bridged, but Lucifer has done it for him, just by needing him, so simply. He honestly never thought he'd even catch himself thinking it, but it seems God does work in mysterious ways. ] - now Hell needs me? Will we be able to be together there?
[ The winds are still pleasantly warm this late in September, though sharper and saltier the closer to the sea they get. The breeze plays with Lucifer's hair, it probably plays with Elio's, too. Faintly, he remembers the myth of Persephone, abducted to Hades for half the year. Lucifer is more than reluctant to abduct him and Elio gets that as well, they're old issues, parental ones, they're rebellious streaks and mere stubbornness.
None of which has to do with Elio, of course. Elio just wants. He wants him so much, it hurts. Luckily, Elio is used to that, isn't he? Hurting. What he isn't used to is getting. ]
no subject
Shaking, Lucifer pulls away, not as gently as he ought. He steps past Elio and stops, less than two feet away, gaze locked on the sea in the distance, the horizon stretching wide beyond it. He flew Elio out across the bay in L.A., back when he'd been hurt by his ex-lover. They'd watched the pier light up and he'd been warm in Lucifer's arms, warm and small. Protected, he'd thought.
And even down there, surely, he would be.
Except Lucifer had sworn he'd fix this and he hasn't. ]
You've already... [ He breaks off. Tries again, his voice not as harsh now, nowhere near accusing: ] Elio, you can't possibly want this. I'm not even certain how it would work - what it would be like. Whether it might swallow you up.
[ He shakes his head, running both hands through his hair in agitation. Some of it has started curling a little; the hair products down in Hell aren't worth much, as with all other commodities. ]
It's an awful place.
no subject
Being up here without you swallows me up, Lucifer.
[ It's not a hard exclamation, but it comes out with more decisiveness than he usually puts into his voice. Quiet strength. The strength that comes of three days without and without and without. Dead world, he thinks. Hurt, he thinks. Finally, Elio just shakes his head and walks over to Lucifer, the man pulling at his own hair, waging a war against both himself and his Father and whatever's come in between them at this point. Everything. Lucifer is fighting everything and therefore, he will lose, again. Elio places a soothing hand on his shoulder, just rubbing it, his upper arm. They're out of sight of the house, he wants to kiss him so badly. ]
If you're giving me the choice, I choose to be with you. [ And Lucifer is giving him the choice, because that's what the Devil does. A small pause, he takes a deep breath - it's just a way of emphasizing that he's heard what the other man has to say, he acknowledges his opinion and reserves the right to disagree. If Hell reflects him, it isn't awful, after all, it's struggling. That's different. ] Whatever the conditions.
[ Hand slipping up the side of Lucifer's neck to his hair, he gently shoos away the other man's hands and goes about slicking it back, one careful, slow stroke of his fingers at a time. ]
no subject
He does.
When the other man steps up closer to him and rubs his shoulder, his fingers slipping up to his neck as he speaks and nudging his panicked hands out of the way, Lucifer slumps a bit where he stands, crossing his arms in front of himself mostly to give that last bit of tension, that darkness coiled in his chest, some sort of exit route. At the feel of Elio's fingertips running through his hair, brushing over his scalp and setting each strand a-right (not unlike what he used to do when he'd groom his wings), Lucifer closes his eyes. Stands there silently for a long while, simply letting the calm of Elio's decisiveness, the quiet around them, seep into his nervous system. The trees around them rustle and further down, the sea rolls in, again and again.
Finally, Lucifer reaches into his pocket and brings out the long piece of silver that materialized amongst Mazikeen's weapons one day, out of nowhere, a few days into his arrival back in Hell. It looks like a link-less armband, maybe, except it comes without locks and without any sort of adornments. She'd come up to his throne, flapping it at his face and looking completely, utterly disturbed - after all, she'd said, if I'm supposed to torture anyone with this thing, I'm not even sure where I'd put it or why. He'd taken it and thought little of it for a while until slowly but surely, data started piling up whilst Amenadiel researched. He'd had Ella's help, apparently; she'd figured out the truth whilst doing her own little investigation into Cain's death - that little woman won't let herself be fooled for long.
In any case. He looks it over, eyebrows furrowed. It's shiny, true, but otherwise pretty unremarkable.
As he leans back against Elio a little, however, it folds from between his fingers and stretches out to its full length, seemingly trying to crawl through the air and around Lucifer. Within long, it's flat-out struggling, trying to crawl up his arm, under his hand, wriggling like a snake between his fingers.
Trying, desperately, to get to Elio.
It's true, then, isn't it. ]
The conditions are unclear.
[ He grabs it between both hands and it twitches pathetically between his fingers. Turning, dislodging Elio's fingers in the process, he holds it out between them. He can feel it buzzing at the sight of the other man, this thing, glittering in the sun. ]
One day, this simply existed.
[ A small smirk, half-hearted. Worried. ]
And apparently, it's been quite lonely without you.
no subject
One day, this simply existed, Lucifer says, and apparently, it's been quite lonely without you.
Raising his gaze from the bracelet, the silver catching glimpses of light like a mirror, interpreting a motif, and to Lucifer's face slowly, Elio can't help but smile. If this thing that suddenly existed in Hell of all places has been lonely without him, then it's because Lucifer was, first. It's how it works, it seems. In Hell, Lucifer is not only King, he's Creator. All mythologies have their own Hades. Elio has just happened to fall in love with the Abrahamic one, lucky him. He reaches out both hands, watching the poor thing more or less try to swing back and forth between Lucifer's fingers, until they finally connect, a little piece of silver slipping between Elio's fingertips and it's burning hot, like fire, the whole piece buzzing happily. Elio doesn't feel sorry for it, like he doesn't feel sorry for Lucifer, but he is quite pleased as he takes it from the other man, lets it slide around his fingers, left hand, wrist, forearm.
It's snake-like which is all sorts of fitting, right? Considering who made it for him. ]
Apparently - [ Elio looks up from his now encircled arm to meet Lucifer's eyes, because he's talking to the man and not the piece of sentient metal currently wrapping around his arm twice as if to secure its own position, as if to secure Elio's, whatever it is now. Persephone? Queen of the Dead? He smiles, softly. Amused. ] - I've been quite lonely without you, too, Lucifer.
[ The silver ring seems to lock in place around his arm, tight-fitting, but without tautening, Elio wouldn't find a single bruise on his skin, he's sure. The weight of the armband itself is almost unnoticeable, what weighs on him is the feel of dimensions, like his world just went from 3D to... 30D. He draws in a deep breath, lifts his arm to look at the thing for a moment, then lifts his gaze to meet Lucifer's worried expression. ]
You've made me something remarkable.
no subject
Like he's been family all along.
Would you look at that. ]
It's you, I think. An extension of you, the way you are.
[ A half-smile. ]
To me.
[ Remarkable, yes. A good word. He brushes his fingers over the bracelet, feeling it humming in response. Then, quite easily, he completes the movement by sliding his hand over Elio's knuckles, fingers, before linking their hands. Something powerful and very familiar surges through him and his wings unfurl at it, snapping out to either side. They aren't quite as impressive-looking as they could be - when he left, they'd been groomed to perfection but in Hell, well, that's not an option. He's done the best he could with a Hell-loop-created shower but all the same, they are... not at their best.
They still take up quite a lot of space, like, enough for him to whack his flight feathers against a pomegranate tree, a couple of fruits tumbling to the ground a split second later.
He pouts a little.
Thanks Dad, for making him wear the most infuriatingly stupid appendages in the known bloody universe. ]
no subject
Looking up at Lucifer, he catches him just in time to see his wings unfurl, knocking a couple of pomegranates off the nearest tree and he smiles, looking down, still red-cheeked and invigorated. He gives Lucifer's hand a small squeeze and then releases him, stepping closer, slipping his fingers into the thick fabric of his shirt, grabbing hold. They're standing close enough that he can feel him, chest to chest. Heartbeat. Heat. Elio tips his head back and looks straight up into his face, wings like framework behind him. They look a bit sad again.
Hell will be a place for wing-grooming from now on, trust him. ]
You should kiss me and then you should carry me off.
[ It's his final permission. Spoken. Given freely. Willingly.
He'll be leaving his family behind, in the midst of their greatest sorrow, but his family is one of strong women who can fend for themselves, Elio thinks that's where he gets his... whatever it is from. His mother who says, go, Elio, go. She knew. She felt it, feminine intuition, that he wouldn't be coming back, he gets that distinct feeling. And it relieves him.
Running his palms flat up Lucifer's front, he watches the bracelet catch the light like it holds a little bit of sun inside. ]
no subject
Just maybe.
Maybe this won't be another Fall.
He leans into the touch of Elio's palms, hating himself all over for that spark of hope, that foolish notion that maybe this really is what it looks like, maybe Elio is supposed to traverse both worlds to keep the balance because the ruler of Hell can no longer rule alone. Amenadiel had been quite certain, last they spoke. It's all the talk up in the Silver City, too, an all-consuming question for his family when they'd but given up upon the answer. Has Samael been forgiven at last?
Picking Elio up in his arms, Lucifer leans in and kisses him. It's a long, slow kiss, simply lips against lips at first before he dips his tongue inside briefly, to get that taste back in his mouth. Maybe it's been two hundred years and that's why everything feels like more, now, like an emphasis. But it does. Elio feels like himself times a hundred, his taste and scent shooting straight into Lucifer's bloodstream. He closes his eyes and holds him close.
Giving his Father yet another chance - another touch of faith, always another, even now - Lucifer dives downwards, clutching Elio to his chest and taking them both away, down and down, beyond the Earth. ]