[ Elio tells him that Oliver has died, the man who robbed him of something so rare and precious that the other man falters, stops, standing so close to him that Lucifer would like nothing better than to put his arm around him. Even out here in the hallway, in full view of the demons peeking out from behind their doors (though honestly - Lucifer stares at one of them, his face expressionless, and with a collective snick, the doors all snap shut at the same time).
He shifts closer and slips his arm around the other man's thin shoulders, feeling how tense he is, how his body seems to be vibrating with it. The door looks familiar, like something he's glimpsed in a dream once and he realises that he has; it's the summer house, the one in Italy. Elio's bedroom door.
Such a lousy excuse for a human being, Oliver. Hopefully, Lucifer's got a cameo somewhere in there - he did punish him once, back on Earth. It wasn't nearly enough, evidently; goes to show that you can't avenge other people on their behalves, not if their own hearts aren't truly in it. Lucifer's always known, of course. But it had been a temptation and he's the Devil so what do you really expect?
In any case.
I came running says Elio, sweet, beautiful Elio and Lucifer pulls him away from the door a little. ]
You don't have to, you know. [ He nods at the door. ] His soul can stand to stew a little.
[ His soul can stand to stew a little, Lucifer says, putting his arm around Elio's shoulder and pulling him a couple of steps away from the door, which in itself it almost painful and Elio has to fight himself not to turn his neck after it. After him. Still? Still, after all this time? He's been given everything, a purpose in life, a job, a home, powers, a partner who is actually as unwavering as only the eternalness of divinity can be. Angel wings. Devil face. Those kinds of features. Elio has been given these things, along with liberty from death, but one look at what once struck the greatest fear in him that he's ever known and he's sinking right back into that cesspool.
He shakes his head. Honestly, he doesn't know whether he's telling Lucifer no or yes.
Blinking a couple of times, he finally, finally turns his attention away from Oliver's door and looks up at the other man, the steadiness of him, the strength, the presence and weight of his body against Elio's side. His beautiful Lucifer who's never hurt him and who's never left without a promise of return and who took him with him to avoid having to do so. His beautiful Lucifer whom he chose.
This isn't about Oliver at all. This is about Elio, Elio letting go. You can't grab what you want with hands that are already full. You certainly can't hold on. So, Elio smiles, it's wider now, if saddened. ]
But mine can't, Lucifer.
[ My soul can't take any more of this, it means. Leaning up on his toes, he presses a kiss to the other man's lips, soft, non-intrusive. The demons have all scrambled. He sinks back down, perfect jawline height. ]
I'll do it for me. I've done enough for Oliver already.
[ He can feel the other man fighting, though he isn't quite sure whether he's fighting against the urge to leave or the pull of the door. Mine can't he says and gets on his tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to Lucifer's lips that he doesn't manage to return before it's gone. He licks his lips instead, his chest aching for the other man and for himself, too, though he's fairly certain both pains are old and unimportant. You hurt and then, some day, if you play your cards right and pull away enough from the flame to actually heal, you don't anymore.
Elio's been playing with fire for long enough.
So Lucifer swallows down his objections - because he does have them, like, why does this man need even half a second more of your time and your presence, why do you need to give it to him, whywhywhy. But all those questions trace back to something else, something far more ancient than Elio, even now, though he's many thousands years older than he looks. He's learned to look at it, Lucifer, like he's learned to look at himself in his Devil form, changed and unchanged at the same time, without his gaze slipping away in denial.
Instead, he runs his fingers lightly through Elio's curls, often enough touched by God in the shape of whatever tiny creature he mimics when he visits Elio's realm.
Then, he steps away. ]
Call for me if necessary.
[ With that, he holds Elio's gaze for another long moment before he glares openly at the door, something red glittering behind his irises. Back straight, he turns away and heads down the hallway, leaving Elio behind to do what he must, to look at his own Devil-face and begin his transformation. ]
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He shifts closer and slips his arm around the other man's thin shoulders, feeling how tense he is, how his body seems to be vibrating with it. The door looks familiar, like something he's glimpsed in a dream once and he realises that he has; it's the summer house, the one in Italy. Elio's bedroom door.
Such a lousy excuse for a human being, Oliver. Hopefully, Lucifer's got a cameo somewhere in there - he did punish him once, back on Earth. It wasn't nearly enough, evidently; goes to show that you can't avenge other people on their behalves, not if their own hearts aren't truly in it. Lucifer's always known, of course. But it had been a temptation and he's the Devil so what do you really expect?
In any case.
I came running says Elio, sweet, beautiful Elio and Lucifer pulls him away from the door a little. ]
You don't have to, you know. [ He nods at the door. ] His soul can stand to stew a little.
no subject
He shakes his head. Honestly, he doesn't know whether he's telling Lucifer no or yes.
Blinking a couple of times, he finally, finally turns his attention away from Oliver's door and looks up at the other man, the steadiness of him, the strength, the presence and weight of his body against Elio's side. His beautiful Lucifer who's never hurt him and who's never left without a promise of return and who took him with him to avoid having to do so. His beautiful Lucifer whom he chose.
This isn't about Oliver at all. This is about Elio, Elio letting go. You can't grab what you want with hands that are already full. You certainly can't hold on. So, Elio smiles, it's wider now, if saddened. ]
But mine can't, Lucifer.
[ My soul can't take any more of this, it means. Leaning up on his toes, he presses a kiss to the other man's lips, soft, non-intrusive. The demons have all scrambled. He sinks back down, perfect jawline height. ]
I'll do it for me. I've done enough for Oliver already.
no subject
Elio's been playing with fire for long enough.
So Lucifer swallows down his objections - because he does have them, like, why does this man need even half a second more of your time and your presence, why do you need to give it to him, whywhywhy. But all those questions trace back to something else, something far more ancient than Elio, even now, though he's many thousands years older than he looks. He's learned to look at it, Lucifer, like he's learned to look at himself in his Devil form, changed and unchanged at the same time, without his gaze slipping away in denial.
Instead, he runs his fingers lightly through Elio's curls, often enough touched by God in the shape of whatever tiny creature he mimics when he visits Elio's realm.
Then, he steps away. ]
Call for me if necessary.
[ With that, he holds Elio's gaze for another long moment before he glares openly at the door, something red glittering behind his irises. Back straight, he turns away and heads down the hallway, leaving Elio behind to do what he must, to look at his own Devil-face and begin his transformation. ]