[ It happens quite quickly, as most things seem to do around Lucifer, swift changes, conversation, action, nothing's stationary. Is it like that when you used to have wings? Or is it a personality thing? He did start a riot against God, one that led to his fall, impulse control might just be a weak spot. Or a strong one, thinks Elio somewhat fondly as Lucifer waves off the subject of his other work and instead leans into his personal sphere again, all up in his face, catching his gaze and holding it. His eyes take on a glassy look, almost see-through and through the glassiness, Elio glimpses a strong note of red, fire, heat and he can feel himself going hard in his pants, nothing worrisome, a small semi. He breathes in sharply, deeply, knows what's coming at this point before the other man has even opened his mouth.
What do you desire. His mojo.
Swallowing hard, Elio pushes away his tumbler and reaches up with his right hand, clamping it softly across Lucifer's eyes, fingers brushing over his eyebrows, his temples, his hand taking up half the other man's face like this. It's a very soft touch, nothing harsh about it. Then, he leans forward as well, just enough that Elio knows Lucifer will feel his presence, even when blinded and says: ]
I'll tell you when I'm ready. [ A pause. Elio begins lowering his hand, fingertips brushing over the other man's brow in the process. ] Until then, don't try to make me.
[ For just - the briefest, briefest second, they're staring at each other and Lucifer's convinced that he's got it, last time was a fluke and everything's in its proper place. The feeling of satisfaction's pretty instant, as these things tend to go with him - quick to action and re-action - so when Elio's hand's suddenly in his face, he actually freezes in surprise, blinking uselessly against his palm. He smells of skin, mostly, though he can feel the coolness from the crystal glass as well as a faint sheen of sweat. Blink. Blinkblinkblink.
I'll tell you when I'm ready says the man who's busy spending his Saturday night touching the Devil in the face and it's just surreal, this, it's... fine. Fine! It doesn't work. For some reason, it just doesn't. Elio lowers his hand slowly and Lucifer's still staring at him, wide-eyed, like a rabbit caught in a very strong set of headlights.
O-kay, then.
That's just dandy.
He draws backwards, out of touching-distance and shakes his head. He can still feel the remnants of Elio's fingertips somehow, like he's left a physical echo of himself under his skin. Next to them, the bartender's leaving a new tumbler of Scotch by his elbow. He hadn't even noticed he'd drained the second one. ]
Fine. Fine, that's. [ He sits back, looking slightly lost. ] Actually, now that I think about it - I didn't solve anything tonight. Found a lead. Not a suspect. But my brother got very, very drunk so that's something.
[ He sees it, recognizes it - how Lucifer draws out of touching distance, lost and tight around the shoulders, blinking at nothing for a long moment. Elio sees it and he recognizes it, because he looked like that himself once, he remembers, in Italy the first time Oliver touched him, massaging his shoulders and taking him completely by surprise. He hadn't known what to do with himself. Does Lucifer?
Would Elio, if an integral part of himself didn't work as it should? If someone you don't even know saw you unlike anyone else?
In the end, he saves it better than Elio had, but Lucifer is who knows how old and Elio was seventeen, so he must be excused. Sitting back, moving himself even more out of reach and Elio gets it, he respects it, lets his hands rest in his lap and making no advances at all, Lucifer tells him about the case he's working, obviously changing the subject to something less tense, something less charged. They have no suspects, but a lead, his brother got drunk...
Pause.
Elio smiles. Just a tug at the corner of his mouth, but it's genuinely amused. He doesn't ask, there're more of you down here or is your brother as beautiful as you, although he could and he wants to know. It's just not in his place, he marked his boundaries, now Lucifer is marking his and they'll get nowhere without understanding and accept. So, instead he reaches for his own tumbler and raises it to his lips, saying over the rim of it with a nod at Lucifer's new arrival of Scotch: ]
I didn't know you could get drunk. It must have taken some work.
[ He shrugs and sips his Scotch. The blonde from before has started making her way through the crowd now and he's going to have to decide whether the distraction's worth the disruption or not. After all, it's... nice, talking to someone who understands, who's not a celestial (because Dad knows he's got very little to say to any of those). He doubts that's ever truly happened before; most people who realise the truth go quite insane, after all. And there's the whole don't-reveal-yourselves-to-humans-deal which... well, he's not particularly invested in it, but considering the way that loser Carmen reacted to his wings, it's probably good that humans don't generally believe him.
He's given Elio very little proof of the divine and that's probably also for the best, regardless. ]
I can't. But sadly, my brother's not really performing to the best of his abilities at the moment.
[ He's not being entirely explicit here, about the fact that Amenadiel has lost some of his powers, hard to say to what extent, obviously. It doesn't really matter that much, does it. He has the attitude still. God's greatest warrior.
He tilts his head sideways again, a bemused smile on his face. ]
[ The other man doesn't go into great detail and Elio accepts that wordlessly, nodding his head as if he understands what an angel not performing to the best of his abilities means, when he doesn't, but neither does he need to. Is it different from a human not doing so in anything but scope? Is Lucifer different from anyone Elio's met in anything but scope and sense of connection? Really, it's the sense of connection between them that's the strange part, not the rest. He takes a drink of his Scotch and feels, with some relief, how his hard-on's quickly subsided, it was a reflex, little else. A physical reaction to the emotional thing that played out between them before. It has settled now. Don't make me, don't touch, they've told each other and it's as it must be for the time being. Elio sighs and takes a deep breath, is about to take another sip of his drink when. Ah.
He meets Lucifer's gaze directly, maps out the tilt of his head, follows the smile on his lips with his eyes for a second, then licks his lips, putting the tumbler down. It's almost empty - Lucifer might not get drunk, but eventually, Elio will. They need to have this talk before that happens, he thinks. He wants to. ]
It's who you are.
[ It comes out completely natural. With a shrug, even. It isn't affected and he isn't putting on any facades here, Elio is being completely genuine. He can sense the divine in Lucifer, although he doesn't understand it and he knows how to accept things he doesn't understand, he's done so before, hasn't he? He lives that kind of life. Again, on a smaller scale. Everything around Lucifer is just blown up by millions, as it must be when you're an angel and the Devil on top of that and God's your father and furthermore, real. Though, Elio never really doubted that. ]
I really like who you are, Lucifer. [ He isn't pretending they know each other, really. It's more an observation, what you show me, I see and what you tell me, I hear and I like both. A head-shake and Elio looks around the nightclub, feeling the music, beat, rhythm, melody. ] Even with your angel brothers and your mojo, you feel familiar, not strange.
[ I really like who you are, says the man who doesn't believe in the Devil and Lucifer eyes him briefly, expression somewhat mixed, two opposing feelings struggling in his chest simultaneously. One the one hand, the familiarity - the implicit acceptance - is making his heart flutter in ways he can't even begin to comprehend but then, on the other, Elio can't possibly... He doesn't even believe in Hell. How could he possibly know?
Then again, there are multiple things he doesn't know or understand with regards to Elio, too. One is the mojo immunity. Another is how, on the one hand, the man lives such a mundane life - and on the other, he seems to fit into Lucifer's world, not just Lux but in general, the celestial stuff rolling off him like raindrops on feathers, just, utterly untouched. By mundanity as well as the preternatural.
So, he sips his glass again and swallows. Says, voice a little darker than before: ]
The Devil feels familiar to you. [ He raises his eyebrow, staring at him, unblinkingly now. ] The greatest mystery of it all, isn't it?
[ He looks down at his glass, at the remains of his Scotch. Less than a mouthful left. Looks sideways again, at Elio, his expression softening into a quiet smile, borderline sad. ]
[ Lucifer stares at him unblinkingly while telling him that it's the greatest mystery of all, isn't it, how the Devil feels familiar to him, and Elio desperately wants him to understand that whatever makes him other is really what makes him the most human, the most recognizable in Elio's eyes. It's not something that needs to make sense, just as divinity doesn't. Heaven. Hell. They're Lucifer's reality, certainly, but Elio's theory. As long as it resonates, the rest is terminology and theses and he'll still read on.
After a moment to study his almost emptied Scotch glass, the other man glances sideways at Elio, Elio watching him in turn as he not-asks him where he's been. He wonders, he says. My dear, he says, and Elio finds himself smiling too, in the same quiet, sad way, shaking his head. ]
I don't know if I'm not still there.
[ A shrug.
He thinks about his parent's orchard in Northern Italy, he thinks about the backyard, Oliver calling it "heaven". Elio won't pretend his Heaven and Lucifer's Heaven are even remotely the same place and Elio can still return to his spot every once in a while, but he thinks he's managed to lose his home over the years regardless, and it feels like a shadow of itself these days, when he returns. Full of ghost spots and painful memories. Full of regret.
Not "heaven" anymore, then, it feels like.
Downing the rest of his drink, Elio holds his flat hand over the glass as the bartender drops by for a refill. After a second, he turns his head to meet Lucifer's eyes. ]
[ And it happens again - something about Elio's answer is making his heart call out in recognition, though he can't for the life of him figure out why. There's just something about it, about the way they mirror each other now, Lucifer's expression a little too old and Elio's a little too distant... It's not a sameness, exactly, but it feels odd, like they've met before in a different world and a different life.
It's just a feeling, really.
He empties his glass. The DJ changes the beat, livening up the dance floor with something that sounds like rock and drugs and mindlessness. The club, in turn, flows with it, the crowd going a little more wild whilst amidst the shadows, the drug dealers are cashing in. I don't know if I'm not still here, said Elio and Lucifer thinks, Where? and feels genuinely lost. ]
Ah, but you can't be there, not precisely. Life - [ The bartender does a refill. Lucifer's looking past him, into the mirrors reflecting the golden lights of the ceiling. ] - is change. Hard to say which way's up, which way's down, when you're mid-transition.
[ He turns on his barstool, facing the other man more fully, his knee brushing against Elio's thigh. ]
But I promise you: once you hit the ground, you'll know.
[ Once you hit the ground, you'll know, Lucifer says, which way's up and which way's down. And Elio thinks it's the single-most personal thing the man has shared with him so far in their acquaintance. How Elio's broken body will tell him. How Lucifer's told him first. ]
Will I know the way forward from there, do you think?
[ Lucifer has turned on his barstool, giving him his full attention, knee brushing over Elio's thigh and Elio presses back against him, turning as well - just an upper-body twist to show his front, his face, his hand, his cards. The implied question, of course, is: did you know, but Elio doesn't push it, doesn't force himself on the other man who isn't asking him to dig through experiences that aren't Elio's to touch, although they've been recorded for all of mankind to see. Lucifer's life is his own, he lays no claim to that.
Instead he lets his eyes trek over his features without holding his gaze, without demanding anything from him that, in reality, neither of them seem ready or completely willing to give. He looks at how the lights throw various parts of the other man's face in shadow, his eyes sinking deep inside his skull, darker than the actual darkness. Has Lucifer found the way forward, is that why he's here, on Earth, living his best life with humans who make it colorful and exciting and uncomplicated? Elio hopes that's the answer. For both their sakes.
Because, if so, being here (and not there) is a beginning. ]
[ That's probably an even better question, isn't it, whether you'll know how to proceed from there, from the earth-shattering realisation that up is down, down is up. He looks at Elio for a long moment, feeling him press back against his knee, the two of them nearly face to face like this, closer in the darkness than the mere physical distance could imply. He can't remember what it felt like, falling. Or landing. It's ancient, over and done with (but obviously, he knows, even if he won't remember) and the thought makes him draw back, as if distancing himself from the idea, the implications.
He smiles, widely and friendly and maybe a little off. Like someone who's not quite here, even though he's got absolutely nowhere else to go, caught between Heaven and Hell as he is, willfully, happily. It's fine like this. He's landed but in motion, still. ]
I really couldn't tell you.
[ With that, he pats Elio's knees lightly, feeling the warmth of him beneath his fingertips. His gaze flitters sideways as he leaves his empty glass on the counter and gets to his feet. The blonde's somewhere out there, blending in with the searching lights and he'll probably look her up then, yes, he probably should.
He doesn't think about loneliness because he's too busy countering it to take the bloody time.
And he leaves Elio behind without a backwards glance. ]
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no subject
What do you desire. His mojo.
Swallowing hard, Elio pushes away his tumbler and reaches up with his right hand, clamping it softly across Lucifer's eyes, fingers brushing over his eyebrows, his temples, his hand taking up half the other man's face like this. It's a very soft touch, nothing harsh about it. Then, he leans forward as well, just enough that Elio knows Lucifer will feel his presence, even when blinded and says: ]
I'll tell you when I'm ready. [ A pause. Elio begins lowering his hand, fingertips brushing over the other man's brow in the process. ] Until then, don't try to make me.
no subject
I'll tell you when I'm ready says the man who's busy spending his Saturday night touching the Devil in the face and it's just surreal, this, it's... fine. Fine! It doesn't work. For some reason, it just doesn't. Elio lowers his hand slowly and Lucifer's still staring at him, wide-eyed, like a rabbit caught in a very strong set of headlights.
O-kay, then.
That's just dandy.
He draws backwards, out of touching-distance and shakes his head. He can still feel the remnants of Elio's fingertips somehow, like he's left a physical echo of himself under his skin. Next to them, the bartender's leaving a new tumbler of Scotch by his elbow. He hadn't even noticed he'd drained the second one. ]
Fine. Fine, that's. [ He sits back, looking slightly lost. ] Actually, now that I think about it - I didn't solve anything tonight. Found a lead. Not a suspect. But my brother got very, very drunk so that's something.
no subject
Would Elio, if an integral part of himself didn't work as it should? If someone you don't even know saw you unlike anyone else?
In the end, he saves it better than Elio had, but Lucifer is who knows how old and Elio was seventeen, so he must be excused. Sitting back, moving himself even more out of reach and Elio gets it, he respects it, lets his hands rest in his lap and making no advances at all, Lucifer tells him about the case he's working, obviously changing the subject to something less tense, something less charged. They have no suspects, but a lead, his brother got drunk...
Pause.
Elio smiles. Just a tug at the corner of his mouth, but it's genuinely amused. He doesn't ask, there're more of you down here or is your brother as beautiful as you, although he could and he wants to know. It's just not in his place, he marked his boundaries, now Lucifer is marking his and they'll get nowhere without understanding and accept. So, instead he reaches for his own tumbler and raises it to his lips, saying over the rim of it with a nod at Lucifer's new arrival of Scotch: ]
I didn't know you could get drunk. It must have taken some work.
no subject
[ He shrugs and sips his Scotch. The blonde from before has started making her way through the crowd now and he's going to have to decide whether the distraction's worth the disruption or not. After all, it's... nice, talking to someone who understands, who's not a celestial (because Dad knows he's got very little to say to any of those). He doubts that's ever truly happened before; most people who realise the truth go quite insane, after all. And there's the whole don't-reveal-yourselves-to-humans-deal which... well, he's not particularly invested in it, but considering the way that loser Carmen reacted to his wings, it's probably good that humans don't generally believe him.
He's given Elio very little proof of the divine and that's probably also for the best, regardless. ]
I can't. But sadly, my brother's not really performing to the best of his abilities at the moment.
[ He's not being entirely explicit here, about the fact that Amenadiel has lost some of his powers, hard to say to what extent, obviously. It doesn't really matter that much, does it. He has the attitude still. God's greatest warrior.
He tilts his head sideways again, a bemused smile on his face. ]
It truly doesn't bother you? Any of it?
no subject
He meets Lucifer's gaze directly, maps out the tilt of his head, follows the smile on his lips with his eyes for a second, then licks his lips, putting the tumbler down. It's almost empty - Lucifer might not get drunk, but eventually, Elio will. They need to have this talk before that happens, he thinks. He wants to. ]
It's who you are.
[ It comes out completely natural. With a shrug, even. It isn't affected and he isn't putting on any facades here, Elio is being completely genuine. He can sense the divine in Lucifer, although he doesn't understand it and he knows how to accept things he doesn't understand, he's done so before, hasn't he? He lives that kind of life. Again, on a smaller scale. Everything around Lucifer is just blown up by millions, as it must be when you're an angel and the Devil on top of that and God's your father and furthermore, real. Though, Elio never really doubted that. ]
I really like who you are, Lucifer. [ He isn't pretending they know each other, really. It's more an observation, what you show me, I see and what you tell me, I hear and I like both. A head-shake and Elio looks around the nightclub, feeling the music, beat, rhythm, melody. ] Even with your angel brothers and your mojo, you feel familiar, not strange.
no subject
Then again, there are multiple things he doesn't know or understand with regards to Elio, too. One is the mojo immunity. Another is how, on the one hand, the man lives such a mundane life - and on the other, he seems to fit into Lucifer's world, not just Lux but in general, the celestial stuff rolling off him like raindrops on feathers, just, utterly untouched. By mundanity as well as the preternatural.
So, he sips his glass again and swallows. Says, voice a little darker than before: ]
The Devil feels familiar to you. [ He raises his eyebrow, staring at him, unblinkingly now. ] The greatest mystery of it all, isn't it?
[ He looks down at his glass, at the remains of his Scotch. Less than a mouthful left. Looks sideways again, at Elio, his expression softening into a quiet smile, borderline sad. ]
I wonder where you've been, my dear.
no subject
After a moment to study his almost emptied Scotch glass, the other man glances sideways at Elio, Elio watching him in turn as he not-asks him where he's been. He wonders, he says. My dear, he says, and Elio finds himself smiling too, in the same quiet, sad way, shaking his head. ]
I don't know if I'm not still there.
[ A shrug.
He thinks about his parent's orchard in Northern Italy, he thinks about the backyard, Oliver calling it "heaven". Elio won't pretend his Heaven and Lucifer's Heaven are even remotely the same place and Elio can still return to his spot every once in a while, but he thinks he's managed to lose his home over the years regardless, and it feels like a shadow of itself these days, when he returns. Full of ghost spots and painful memories. Full of regret.
Not "heaven" anymore, then, it feels like.
Downing the rest of his drink, Elio holds his flat hand over the glass as the bartender drops by for a refill. After a second, he turns his head to meet Lucifer's eyes. ]
no subject
It's just a feeling, really.
He empties his glass. The DJ changes the beat, livening up the dance floor with something that sounds like rock and drugs and mindlessness. The club, in turn, flows with it, the crowd going a little more wild whilst amidst the shadows, the drug dealers are cashing in. I don't know if I'm not still here, said Elio and Lucifer thinks, Where? and feels genuinely lost. ]
Ah, but you can't be there, not precisely. Life - [ The bartender does a refill. Lucifer's looking past him, into the mirrors reflecting the golden lights of the ceiling. ] - is change. Hard to say which way's up, which way's down, when you're mid-transition.
[ He turns on his barstool, facing the other man more fully, his knee brushing against Elio's thigh. ]
But I promise you: once you hit the ground, you'll know.
no subject
Will I know the way forward from there, do you think?
[ Lucifer has turned on his barstool, giving him his full attention, knee brushing over Elio's thigh and Elio presses back against him, turning as well - just an upper-body twist to show his front, his face, his hand, his cards. The implied question, of course, is: did you know, but Elio doesn't push it, doesn't force himself on the other man who isn't asking him to dig through experiences that aren't Elio's to touch, although they've been recorded for all of mankind to see. Lucifer's life is his own, he lays no claim to that.
Instead he lets his eyes trek over his features without holding his gaze, without demanding anything from him that, in reality, neither of them seem ready or completely willing to give. He looks at how the lights throw various parts of the other man's face in shadow, his eyes sinking deep inside his skull, darker than the actual darkness. Has Lucifer found the way forward, is that why he's here, on Earth, living his best life with humans who make it colorful and exciting and uncomplicated? Elio hopes that's the answer. For both their sakes.
Because, if so, being here (and not there) is a beginning. ]
no subject
He smiles, widely and friendly and maybe a little off. Like someone who's not quite here, even though he's got absolutely nowhere else to go, caught between Heaven and Hell as he is, willfully, happily. It's fine like this. He's landed but in motion, still. ]
I really couldn't tell you.
[ With that, he pats Elio's knees lightly, feeling the warmth of him beneath his fingertips. His gaze flitters sideways as he leaves his empty glass on the counter and gets to his feet. The blonde's somewhere out there, blending in with the searching lights and he'll probably look her up then, yes, he probably should.
He doesn't think about loneliness because he's too busy countering it to take the bloody time.
And he leaves Elio behind without a backwards glance. ]