Until now, he's just assumed... well. When he said talked, he didn't quite mean talk in the literal sense, he meant... the way you just know, right, like the way he knew when he went to collect Chloe's antidote and came across Mum's broken loop door. God doesn't talk to anyone; he hasn't even spoken to Amenadiel, his favourite son, in basically forever. At least, the other angel hasn't mentioned anything about it and there's no way he'd be even slightly capable of keeping something like that to himself.
So, factually, Dad doesn't. Talk. Not to Lucifer (duh), not to Amenadiel (much to his brother's sadness) and not to...
But.
We talked about names.
Blinking rapidly, Lucifer turns to stare at Elio, eyes widening as the magnitude of what he's saying finally, properly resonates. God has spoken, not to any of his angels, not to some new-age prophet or to the Pope or even Leonardo DiCaprio; but to Elio, sweet Elio, who's down here in Hell playing Persephone and plucking the fruits of a garden that's clearly as tied to him as the palace and the realm surrounding them. A small slice of creation itself. ]
You...
[ He wets his lips. Shifts closer, until their shoulders rub together. Then, he slips his arm around Elio's naked waist and pulls him in against his side gently, his feathers cascading down over his upper body, down, down, draping against the ground next to his feet. He stands there, holding Elio close and looks around again. Properly.
The anger has curled into something else, something smaller and more fragile, in the depths of his chest. It's easier like that, to see what's around him. The trees. The fruits.
The sun. ]
You are the most remarkable thing I've ever known.
[ He’s a lot of wide-eyed staring, is Lucifer, after that. He’s always had the kind of face that blew up every emotion to double its original size, so Elio can follow the shifts in reaction very clearly. Disbelief. Wonder. Something... else that Elio doesn’t dare to name, because like the grief, this is Lucifer’s to carry, too. And Elio’s to receive, apparently.
The other man slips his arm around Elio’s naked waist and pulls him in, gently, carefully, in a manner that says you matter and possibly more than you will ever know, and in response Elio rests his head sideways on Lucifer’s shoulder, lets himself be held and appreciated and... that unnameable thing, Lucifer’s own.
Then, Lucifer says that, those words, you are the most remarkable thing I’ve ever known, and maybe he’d compliment-scoff it away normally, but Elio knows the weight of that statement, because Lucifer has known everything there is to know from the beginning of time until now and long into the future, he’ll know it as well. If Elio surpasses all of it, that’s not just a compliment, that’s a...
Oh.
The angel’s wing is wrapped lightly around him, feathers cascading down his front, back, protecting him from all sides as they, each and every one of them, say the same thing. Elio feels something warmer than the sunshine and stronger than Hell’s rocky ground form in his chest. He’s felt this way about Lucifer for a long time, really, but the metaphors were never quite right, never quite here. He turns a little and gets up on his naked toes to kiss the other man’s cheek, stubble scratching him beautifully. ]
I love you, too.
[ Lucifer hasn’t said it yet, the words, and Elio realizes, maybe for the first time, that he has absolutely no stakes in whether the other man ever will. If he can say things like this and give himself in all his forms to him, how loudly would he have to shout to be heard over that?
It’s not that Elio doesn’t expect better of him, it’s that Lucifer has already outdone himself. He thinks about what God said, about making yourself better and he thinks, this very second? They’re both the results of their own hard work. The work that brought them together to begin with.
Nuzzling Lucifer’s cheekbone with his nose, Elio eases down on flat feet again, just standing there, leaning against him. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
It takes a second or two to fully register.
Until now, he's just assumed... well. When he said talked, he didn't quite mean talk in the literal sense, he meant... the way you just know, right, like the way he knew when he went to collect Chloe's antidote and came across Mum's broken loop door. God doesn't talk to anyone; he hasn't even spoken to Amenadiel, his favourite son, in basically forever. At least, the other angel hasn't mentioned anything about it and there's no way he'd be even slightly capable of keeping something like that to himself.
So, factually, Dad doesn't. Talk. Not to Lucifer (duh), not to Amenadiel (much to his brother's sadness) and not to...
But.
We talked about names.
Blinking rapidly, Lucifer turns to stare at Elio, eyes widening as the magnitude of what he's saying finally, properly resonates. God has spoken, not to any of his angels, not to some new-age prophet or to the Pope or even Leonardo DiCaprio; but to Elio, sweet Elio, who's down here in Hell playing Persephone and plucking the fruits of a garden that's clearly as tied to him as the palace and the realm surrounding them. A small slice of creation itself. ]
You...
[ He wets his lips. Shifts closer, until their shoulders rub together. Then, he slips his arm around Elio's naked waist and pulls him in against his side gently, his feathers cascading down over his upper body, down, down, draping against the ground next to his feet. He stands there, holding Elio close and looks around again. Properly.
The anger has curled into something else, something smaller and more fragile, in the depths of his chest. It's easier like that, to see what's around him. The trees. The fruits.
The sun. ]
You are the most remarkable thing I've ever known.
no subject
The other man slips his arm around Elio’s naked waist and pulls him in, gently, carefully, in a manner that says you matter and possibly more than you will ever know, and in response Elio rests his head sideways on Lucifer’s shoulder, lets himself be held and appreciated and... that unnameable thing, Lucifer’s own.
Then, Lucifer says that, those words, you are the most remarkable thing I’ve ever known, and maybe he’d compliment-scoff it away normally, but Elio knows the weight of that statement, because Lucifer has known everything there is to know from the beginning of time until now and long into the future, he’ll know it as well. If Elio surpasses all of it, that’s not just a compliment, that’s a...
Oh.
The angel’s wing is wrapped lightly around him, feathers cascading down his front, back, protecting him from all sides as they, each and every one of them, say the same thing. Elio feels something warmer than the sunshine and stronger than Hell’s rocky ground form in his chest. He’s felt this way about Lucifer for a long time, really, but the metaphors were never quite right, never quite here. He turns a little and gets up on his naked toes to kiss the other man’s cheek, stubble scratching him beautifully. ]
I love you, too.
[ Lucifer hasn’t said it yet, the words, and Elio realizes, maybe for the first time, that he has absolutely no stakes in whether the other man ever will. If he can say things like this and give himself in all his forms to him, how loudly would he have to shout to be heard over that?
It’s not that Elio doesn’t expect better of him, it’s that Lucifer has already outdone himself. He thinks about what God said, about making yourself better and he thinks, this very second? They’re both the results of their own hard work. The work that brought them together to begin with.
Nuzzling Lucifer’s cheekbone with his nose, Elio eases down on flat feet again, just standing there, leaning against him. ]