Who: Samandriel & Abigail Lecter What: Samandriel actually has a crush and needs Abigail to get him a fake ID When: 8-11, a few hours after this log Where: Samandriel's Rating: PG-13 for Samandriel's realization that his hormones work, and frank discussion of teenagers dating significantly older adults. Status: Complete
It was hard waiting until after work to see Abigail, but it was not hard to text her to meet him at hers (and please just walk on in because his parents were still off and running and he’d given her a key,) because he needed to talk to her about something. Important, but not life threatening. He had to talk to someone. She seemed like the only choice.
When he got home, he took his shoes off and went to go ignore his mother’s rules and have a glass of wine. He didn’t know how else to process the sudden onslaught of a sexuality in perfect working order. Well, mostly perfect.
She did as he’d instructed and just walked in, toeing off her shoes and calling out. “Samandriel?” Tucking her hair behind her ears, she headed toward where she thought she heard noise coming from. The kitchen was gorgeous, and she popped her head in. “Oh, there you are. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” he said, putting the wine away. “Would you like some?” It wasn’t like they were going to get drunk and wild. It was a glass of wine. Hannibal would understand.
“Please. What is that, a merlot or a chablis?” She’d turned into somewhat of an afficianado, if only because of her father’s guidance.
“Merlot,” Samandriel answered, grabbing a glass to pour her one and then just leaving the bottle on the counter.
“Living room?”
“My favorite!” She swirled the glass once it was handed it to her, sniffing a bit before she took a sip. “Mmph, cherries.” Nodding, she went to the living room with him, settling down in a chair.
Samandriel tucked himself up on the couch, legs neatly against him. “I need your help.”
“Oh? What with?” Abigail set her glass of wine down carefully, using a coaster and all.
Samandriel kept his glass in his hand and stared down at his thigh. “You know Lux?” he asked. “The really fancy piano bar on the west side? I need you to help me get in.”
“Oh? Why, do they have an age limit?” Abigail figured she could find someone who made convincing fake IDs.
“21 plus. Age and...possibly income limit. I can handle dressing myself up, but not the paperwork.”
“I can get you a fake ID. Why? And why a piano bar? Is there someone who works there?” Abigail always figured that Samandirel would find someone, but just didn’t take into account the possibility of faking documents to find said someone.
“There’s this guy...” Samandriel blushed just thinking about Lucifer. “He owns it and has been coming by work and...Ab” He looked up at her. “I don’t know what to do with all of this...want. It’s very unusual.”
Her own cheeks flushed a little. She could understand that sentiment completely. “If he owns it, can’t he get you in? Don’t want to start a relationship based on a lie, do you?”
“No, but I’d like to surprise him. Maybe just...prove that he’s worth the effort? There’s no way he thinks I’m legal. Look at me. I could still pass for fourteen if I really wanted to.” A tall fourteen, sure, but he could manage it.
Abigail chuckled. “Yeah, I get that sometimes too. It’s our eyes, they’re all wide.” She smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I know a couple of shady people from school, I’ll ask them. I doubt your friend will press charges or anything if he finds out it’s fake.” Reclaiming her wine, she smiled. “Tell me about him?”
“I don’t know a lot about him,” Samandriel confessed. “I just know I need him.” He opened his laptop and pulled up a picture from an article about the bar. He turned the screen towards her and took a sip of his wine.
That made Abigail smile. She leaned forward to look at the picture. The man looked harder, somehow, than who she’d have picked for Samandriel. But she supposed opposites attracted, and Samandriel would need someone to be strong where he was weak, and vice versa. “I like his eyes. I bet he’s got a deep voice.” Abigail found that voices were one of her bigger turn-ons.
There was a video, of course, of Lucifer being his charming self, giving the interviewer all of his attention. It was exactly the kind of thing that made Samandriel all kinds of fluttery again. “He’s interested,” he said, gaze fixed on the screen even though the short video was over. “I’m sure of that much.”
“Oh?” Abigail couldn’t help but be drawn to him herself on the video; he was one of those incredibly gifted speakers who managed to ingratiate himself to the interviewer so subtly she wasn’t sure if it was flattery or chemistry making the interviewer laugh. “How can you tell?” Even she hadn’t been able to tell that Hannibal had been interested in her.
“I just...a man like that doesn’t come back to Jamba for shitty smoothies. And he didn’t even come in the mall when he gave me his card, he just sat next to me while I didn’t eat my lunch today.” Samandriel took another drink of his wine.
Abigail bit her lower lip and grinned. “What did you two talk about?” It was kind of romantic, and she liked hearing it. She’d never get to tell people what led up to her and Hannibal kissing first, so she’d live vicariously through her friends. Besides - she was ridiculously happy for him. “Does the age difference bother you? I’m not going to say anything, obviously.”
“We didn’t really talk about anything,” Samandriel said, “I was a bit distracted.” He settled back on the couch and sipped at his wine. “It doesn’t. There’s just...something there. I can’t explain it. I don’t know how. I mean there’s never, ever been anything like this for me before.”
“You just feel drawn to him?” Abigail smiled and moved to sit down by him. “I know how you feel, at least a little.”
“Yeah,” Samandriel said, looking down into his wine. “And I just want him to notice me, for him to be more proud of me than I’ve ever cared about anyone else’s approval.”
Oh, that feeling she knew well. There was a reason that Abigail knew so much about wine, art, opera, food. She kind of liked the glowing look of approval on her father’s face whenever she pleased him. “God. We’re such subs,” she muttered, sipping her wine. “I don’t know how anyone could not notice you.”
Samandriel lifted his head, frowning in confusion as he looked at her. “Translate?”
She knew it was that first part. “Submissive. We like pleasing the person we’re with, we like to watch them be happy because of us, sort of doing what we’re um. Told.” She blushed brightly, feeling like maybe she was revealing too much.
Samandriel immediately turned bright red. “Oh.” He didn’t realize that was a thing, but the more he considered it, the more he realized it was very probably true. No, it was definitely true. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“It’s not a bad thing, it’s just kind of ... I never thought of myself that way.” She smiled into her wine, looking down at it. “I thought I was always ... I don’t know, maybe it takes its own kind of strength, you know?”
“It does,” Samandriel said, thinking more about it. “To be that vulnerable for someone and give that much, yes it takes a good deal of strength.”
“And I kind of switch sometimes. I’m as good an instigator as anyone, I think. I kissed him first, after all.” Abigail was proud of herself for having the balls to have done that. “Whatever I can do to help you get your mystery man, Samandriel, I’m on board. Always.” Not just this time, but as many times as it took.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “I appreciate it.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re my best friend. Sometimes you’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not a freak. There’s not a lot I wouldn’t do for you, Samandriel.”
He pulled her close and pressed his nose into her hair. “Love you too,” he whispered.
It was one of the easiest friendships she’d ever been in, since they were both very giving souls. She chuckled. “Hannibal thinks I’m going to leave him for you, someday.” It was probably why Samandriel thought that there was a bit of animosity between them.
Samandriel snorted. “You’re practically my sister,” he pointed out, “you can’t leave family like that.”
“Well, exactly, that’s what I tell him, but then he points out he’s technically listed as my father so then I have to distract him. Usually with wine.” She chuckled, smiling lopsidedly.
“Would it make him feel better to know that I’m all about the dick now?” Not that it would be the most surprising thing in the world, but it might be a comfort somehow. “I mean, leave out the part about how old that dick is of course, because he might somehow think that you and I are in strange male cougar cahoots or something.”
That made Abigail laugh. “Maybe a little. He’s paranoid that I’m going to leave him for someone my age all the time. I think it’s because he still feels guilty about what we’re doing at all.” Which she hated, because she didn’t. She felt it was what she deserved.
That was a potential break up that Samandriel didn’t want to think about and so he simply chose not to. “Do you think Lucifer’s going to feel guilty about it?”
“Not really. He doesn’t seem to be the sort to feel guilty, and you don’t have the same circumstances.” Abigail chuckled a little to herself. “And you said he approached you. That’s a good sign.”
“I could feel him checking out my ass, Abs,” he said quietly, enough alcohol in him that he didn’t feel like he needed to filter his language. It didn’t take much, particularly not in her presence. “It was all I could to to keep walking back to work and not just go sit down in his lap and see if he intended to do anything about it.”
Abigail couldn’t help but giggle. “You can do that at the club, I’m sure.” She turned to face him, leaning against the back of the sofa. “Maybe it’s just kismet? You were meant to meet him or something. I met someone from my dreams who helped save my life there, he’s one of Dad’s clients. It’s weird, how fate works here.”
“It’s a fancy place. I’m not going to ruin my suit any more than I already will simply by being seventeen and full of hormones,” Samandriel pointed out. “And my dignity has to count for something.” That said, if Lucifer wanted Samandriel in his lap, Samandriel would be in his damn lap.
She just raised a brow. But they both knew that if Lucifer told him to sit, he’d sit. “I didn’t realize it was fancy. Do you need help picking out what to wear?” She grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“I own one suit,” Samandriel pointed out, shoving her away playfuly. “I’ll wear that. You can pick a tie.”
“And a pocket square.” Abigail gave Samandriel a Look. “Pocket squares pull everything together, and it’ll draw his eye to your chest. Which is fantastic.” Samandriel had one of those swimmer’s builds, lean and long and yet still toned.
Samandriel looked down at his chest in his white t-shirt. “Sometimes I wonder about you checking me out.”
“I check you out the way I look at art. I don’t look at David and think I want to make out with him, I just appreciate his lines.” She playfully pushed him. “Do you want me to make out with you? Oh my gosh, you secretly like me.”
“No!” Samandriel said quickly, looking at her like she may have lost her mind. “I mean you’re pretty and all, but if I wanted to make out with you I would’ve done it already.”
“I was joking, Samandriel. Kissing you would be like kissing a blood relative on the mouth.” Inappropriate. “Blue. We’ll do blue to bring out your eyes. Maybe we’ll have time to get you something made, but I doubt it.” She tapped her chin with a finger.
Samandriel arched a brow at the kissing relatives thing, but didn’t comment. ‘Blood’ didn’t save that statement. “I’m not...I don’t need something made, particularly when the goal is to get him to want to get me out of the suit as fast as possible.”
“Then I know a place that makes pretty things. I’ll get one for you if you want to be surprised, or you can come pick something out with me one day.” She leaned against him, warm and happy from the wine. “So you really want to sleep with him?” She’d actually had her best friend pegged as more asexual than anything else. It wasn’t a bad change seeing him as a sexual creature, just a change.
Samandriel looked down at his mostly empty wine glass, finished the last swallow and set it aside so he could cuddle her more effectively. “I want him to bend me over and not be able to sit for at least a day. I want to choke on his cock and then beg for more. I don’t think sleeping with him covers it.” He said it so calmly too, like it was a desire he’d accepted completely no matter that he actually hadn’t and that he wanted sex so desperately scared the pants off of him.
She was really glad that she hadn’t been drinking when he’d said that if only because she’d have spittook all over his mother’s gorgeous living room. “Oh,” she managed, cuddling into him and looking up at him. “So, you met at work?”
“Yeah,” Samandriel said. “He managed to rescue me from father’s friend Dave. You know, the balding one who thinks no one sees him leering at me but we all know.”
“The one who’ll end up in jail eventually?” Abigail wrinkled her nose. “If I didn’t think your father would explode, I’d have punched him already. How’d he do it? It all sounds very gallant.”
“I don’t think anything can make my father explode. Sit and pout sadly for a long while, sure, but not actually explode. Mother on the other hand...” Samandriel’s mother was very, very loud and when something was wrong, everyone knew it. “He just...came up to the counter like he was exuding all this alpha male territorial thing and Dave just sort of wandered off with his tail between his legs.”
“Well, either way, I don’t want to make your parents uncomfortable. And your object of affection’s method sounds far more subtle. And romantic.” Abigail couldn’t help but grin.
Samandriel got up and considered going to get more wine before he looked at her. “Pool?” he asked curiously. “Life seems to make more sense when I can splash you.”
“Sure.” She didn’t have a swimsuit, but she’d just wear his clothes into the pool. “Your brain works in mysterious ways, you know.”
“Most do,” Samandriel replied, smiling as he shamelessly stripped down to his boxer briefs while they walked. “You should be used to it by now.”
“What, your half nudity or your brain being weird?” Well, if he was going to be half naked. She wiggled out of her jeans and t-shirt, revealing panties and a bra that were demure in coverage but actually matched. Clearly, someone else was picking out her underthings.
“My brain being weird. Though, come to think of it, my half nudity shouldn’t be much of a surprise either,” he countered, stepping out of the back door to head towards the pool.
“It’s not, not really.” She loved him even more for not commenting on the collection of scratches and bruises on her body. Following him to the pool, she grinned, poking him in the side as they walked further outside. “You’re silly, but honestly, I don’t see why this guy wouldn’t want you. He’s already showing interest.”
Samandriel didn’t like her collection of marks, but he didn’t know how to talk about it. What did you say when someone looked hurt like that and seemed to be doing better than ever? “Because I’m flawed,” Samandriel said softly, but before Abigail could comment to that, he took a running start and dove into the pool.
She didn’t dive into the pool. Instead she walked into the shallow end, dipping a toe in to make sure the temperature was to her liking. It was, so she walked further into the shallows, and she waited until Samandriel could surface. “We love people for their flaws, you know. We’re attracted for their virtues.” Then it was her turn to dive under the water, getting her hair wet and swimming forward a bit.
Samandriel stayed surfaced, floating on his back while he thought about things. “What if I really am messed up, though?” he asked once he heard her break the surface again. “What if all this raising myself really has screwed me. What if I know too much academia and I don’t know how to do anything with real people?”
“I was raised by parents and I’m not exactly normal,” she shrugged, looking back at him. “Nobody really is. You know how there’s all these things that people don’t tell you about real life that we have to find out for ourselves? That doing what you love is a fairytale, that sometimes our parents did stay together for us, that nothing’s fair at all and nobody waits their turn? I think we can add that everyone is messed up to that list. If everyone isn’t, then why does Daddy see plenty of perfectly normal people every day?” Normal was given liberal air quotes. “It’s the best we can hope for to find someone where their messed up works with our own.”
Samandriel thought about it for a long moment. He waited his turn and he dealt with the inequalities of the world like he did everything else.
“I’m not going to judge you,” he said first, staring up at the stars, “but do you want to tell me about all the new marks on you?”
She went beet red. “What about them? I like being bitten a bit is all.”
“Fair,” Samandriel said simply. “I just wasn’t sure if it was something to do with the...submissive thing you mentioned.”
“Oh. Only the ones on my ass,” she mumbled, trying not to blush her way into fainting from all the blood going to her cheeks.
“Oh,” Samandriel said softly, making a mental note to do more research and let the topic be. “If it goes well when I go see him, I’d like you to meet him one day.” He did, after all, already know Hannibal.
“I’d like that too,” Abigail grinned. She was much less likely to blush around Samandriel’s boyfriend than she was if Samandriel was to hang around hers. “Give him the talk, you know.”
“The talk?” Samandriel shifted out of his float to look at her properly. “There’s a talk?”
“The hurt my friend and I’ll make you regret it talk. I’ll be subtle, don’t worry.” She treaded water, wishing her bra was less see through. Hannibal would just know she’d gone swimming, he’d be able to smell the chlorine.
“Brother,” Samandriel corrected gently. That was what they were as far as he was concerned, and he splashed her as much as the angle he was at allowed.
That made Abigail give him a smile of such happiness that she swam toward him, ignoring the splashing, to hug him. “Thank you.” She closed her eyes, feeling like for a moment, her dreams didn’t matter, feeling hopeful that maybe she wouldn’t even have them.
He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his nose into hair so dark with water that it was nearly wet. “Always,” he promised. Family didn’t mean blood.