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Lucifer Morningstar didn't make you do shit. (didnt_make_you) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-30 20:56:00

Who: Lucifer Morningstar, Samandriel, Dean & Castiel Winchester
What: Talking, spying, coping, listening
When: Friday night
Where: Lux
Rating: pg-13 talk of sexy things, some making out, but no actual sex. warning for Samandriel not being quite 18 yet and having relations with adults
Status: Complete




Samandriel was already on break in Lucifer’s private upstairs lounge when he heard the footsteps coming. He’d played extra hard for his portion of the night and his hands were beginning to tense up. No matter that the pianist had taken over completely and Samandriel’s violin (not the viola, Lux wasn’t the place for the viola,) was already in its case on one of the low tables.

He’d been sitting upstairs trying to flex and massage them out himself. It was never a pretty job to do, and more often than not ended up ineffective, but he dealt as he always did. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been playing for as long as he had, but he was excited. People seemed to really enjoy the music and Samandriel couldn’t help but be glad for it.

What caused an equally tense knot to form in his chest was the sight of not Lucifer, but the man who followed directly in stride with him. That Dean was there might mean that Samandriel was in trouble, but he hoped not. A small nod of acknowledgement from the vessel allowed him to relax, just a bit. He was okay then, at least for now. Oh, and Castiel was here too! Samandriel couldn’t help but smile and sink further back into the very oversized, very comfortable couch even while trying to stretch his hands out.

Carrying a drink with him, a double of orange juice and vodka (Dean, apparently, thought that Cas should make up for the fact that he wasn't drinking), Castiel spotted Samandriel on the couch and gave his younger brother a little smile of greeting.

Cas wasn't one to go out often -- he wasn't fond of crowds, didn't quite know how to deal with them, but had agreed to come along to Lux with Dean because he knew Samandriel was working here now. It was meant to be a silent motion of support, to come see him play. It did not hurt that he also enjoyed dressing finely, or that he wanted to meet Lucifer first hand. He was wary of the other angel, of course he was, and thought it smart to know for sure if Samandriel was really okay with him.

Lucifer had been surprised to see them both, but offered drinks (and soda) in a welcoming sort gesture before noting that Samandriel, who Dean's husband had clearly been searching for in the crowd, was upstairs and wouldn't they like to just head up there? They did, after all, share some common interest and it might be good to get to know one another better.

He had a martini in one hand, and a glass of just juice for Samandriel in the other. "Cranberry orange," he murmured, handing it to his angel. "I seem to have found some visitors."

“Thank you,” Samandriel said, smiling up at Lucifer and taking the drink. He hadn’t expected it, but was glad to be tended to all the same. His archangel took very good care of him, and there was nothing in the youngest of them that suggested anything but complete adoration for the blond. He took a sip from his straw and ignored his sore hands for the time being.

He got comfy. Comfier. Hopefully Castiel would care to join him on the couch while their men did...whatever it was they came to do.

Dean watched the pair of them interact for a brief, critical moment and then realized he knew that look. It was the softer, more open version of the way Cas looked at him. Then again, Samandriel would be all smiles and light and crap.

“Go on and hang with your brother,” Dean said, “do...whatever it is you two do.” He walked over to the table and sat down with his soda. Sprite tonight. It didn’t tend to make him want rum. “This feels like some kind of friggen puppy play date,” he muttered to Lucifer. The kid would probably hear him, but whatever.

That made Lucifer laugh even as he seated himself neatly at the table across the room from the couch. "It might as well be, for how closely your husband seems to follow you around." Castiel did have a lost puppy look about him, even now he was sure the dark haired angel had his eyes on this side of the room staring at Dean as if his whole world was fit into one of the pockets of Dean's suit. It was… vaguely endearing, even he had to admit. "So? Is there a reasoning behind your visiting?"

-

Cas settled himself next to Samandriel on the couch -- fairly close, but a distance he still considered to be safe enough. He held his glass in both hands, but didn't seem particularly interested in drinking it just yet. "Hello," he greeted, pulling his eyes away from Dean to actually look at Samandriel. "I am sorry I missed you actually playing. We came too late."

Samandriel shrugged, stretching out his hand again, the one that wasn’t holding his drink. “It’s not like you’ve not heard me play before.” Having both his brothers in proximity had a remarkably calming effect on Samandriel and even though he was a bit sore and wanted to be awake, he was fairly certain he could fall asleep right there.

-

Dean cleared his throat. “Cas is ah...more protective than he lets on. He wanted to meet you and check in on the kid.” He shrugged. “Not surprising. I mean guy’s little brother starts dating the devil, you’re gonna wanna make sure it’s all kosher and that he’s not secretly plotting the end times or some crap.” Dean didn’t really care much. He figured that if Lucifer was doing real damaging shit to Samandriel, it’d be obvious. He’d been on the other side of that fence before. He knew what putting up with that felt like to wear. The kid had not a single damn tell about that shit on him.

If something was messing with him, it wasn’t Lucifer. He watched the pair of them for a little bit, marking the way Cas kept a good foot of distance between them like he wasn’t trying to piss off Dean, but maybe wouldn’t have minded sitting closer. It was kinda cute in it’s own Castiel is doing crap kinda way.

“Really don’t mean that to be offensive,” he said, turning his attention back to Lucifer.

Lucifer shook his head and sipped his martini, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in his seat a bit. "None taken. I'm not certain if the roles weren't reversed that I would want for a brother of mine to date the devil, either." Not that he really thought of himself as Satan. He hadn't had any kind of dream that said he was -- just just took Samandriel's word for it and left it at that. It seemed easier for now.

"I have no interest in the end of the world. I think it'd be quite poor for my business. I assure you, my intentions are as pure as they could possibly be." It didn't need to be said, though. He'd offered Samandriel gainful employ doing what he loved best, and brought him orange juice on his breaks. He tried not to make it obvious downstairs, but up here, he was just as love sick as the younger angel was.


---


Cas finally sipped his drink, just so that he had something to do with his hands. The couch was comfortable, and Samandriel looked at home here -- much like he had upon their meeting, when the boy had fallen asleep on his shoulder. That was reassuring. He looked over to where Dean was talking to Lucifer, and squinted his eyes cautiously, as if considering.

"No, but the setting is different," he offered, finally, once he'd decided Lucifer wasn't about to smite them all. "Do you enjoy it?"

“It is, and I do,” Samandriel said, going to work some more on his juice. He needed to rehydrate. He knew that. It was just that Castiel and eavesdropping on Dean and Lucifer was much more interesting than drinking. Playing was hard work.

He watched Castiel thinking and said softly, “Dean says they’re here because you wanted to check in on me and make sure I really was happy and that he wasn’t going to start the endtimes. Lucifer says he understands and would do the same if roles were reversed. No offense was taken. I’m not sure they like each other too much.” Then again, Dean didn’t really seem to like anyone except Castiel.

He smiled at his brother sheepishly. “Sorry, angelic senses.”

--

Dean nodded. “Long as we’re clear and cool about that.” He never thought that he and Lucifer would actually be friendly, what with Lucifer being the Devil and Dean pretty anti-freaky-woo-woo crap, but there was definitely a mutual respect there. Lucifer’s high class world wasn’t anywhere near Dean’s covered in grease and jeans one, but Lucifer wasn’t someone whom Dean felt he had to impress. They were either on a level or they weren’t. That was pretty much the end of it. Like brothers in law who figured they really should be getting along for the sake of the family and might one day manage it.

“He’s a good kid,” Dean said, glancing over at Samandriel smiling as he talked to Cas. “Well behaved, polite, one of those little shits that seems to actually care.” He made eye contact with Lucifer. “It’s a rare thing. Hang onto him.” Implied in that was ‘don’t fuck it up,’ but Dean didn’t think he needed to say it.

He didn't need to say it. Lucifer might have been slightly offended if he did, in any case. He wasn't stupid, he knew what he had and how Good it was. Even if it was obvious Samandriel was eavesdropping a bit. Lucifer couldn't much blame him for that, though.

"He is good," he agreed, just for the sake of it before inclining his head toward the couch. "I suspect yours is too, if Samandriel likes him so well." If not a bit on the socially awkward side, based on the way he was sitting with perfectly straight posture and a look of stoic interest. Interesting mix, Dean Winchester and that angel.

--

Cas sipped his screwdriver -- using the tiny mixing straw to drink through, even though it clearly took more effort and longer sips. He didn't look sorry or abashed at all for the retelling of the conversation on the other side of the room, even if it did have to do with him. "I was concerned," he admitted. Now he wasn't as much. There's probably always be something there that Cas wouldn't let go, but he could bury it a bit. Worry a little less.

"I don't know they have to like each other. Dean is behaving well though, so it isn't terribly bad." Because of course Castiel was concerned over Dean's behavior. Dean burned hot when he was angry, and Castiel -- well. It took a lot to even phase him or get him to register emotion at all.

He leaned a little further into the couch, which was to say at all. "This could be comfortable." Like he had any idea.

“They don’t, but I’d prefer it if they did,” Samandriel said, looking wistfully at Lucifer. “Would you like a proper straw?” he asked, offering his with a small gesture. There wasn’t ice or anything in his juice. He could drink from the glass.

“The couch or the four of us?” What? Comfortable needed clarification.

--

Dean considered Cas for a moment before saying, “He’s too good,” he said, giving Lucifer an almost fond look. “Pretty sure I don’t deserve him, but I sure as hell am not going to turn it away. Sometimes, you just need...you need someone worth being better for.”


Raising his martini glass in a half toast at Dean's words, Lucifer could really only smile back, nearly fond himself. He got it, he did.

"You know," he said, changing the subject completely, because he just wasn't that sappy of a man to keep waxing poetic. "He enjoyed his time with you. But it was a little … abrupt of you."

---


Cas leaned a little closer to take the straw, pressing their glasses together so he wouldn't drip on anything between them. It'd made him scoot over a bit, but he didn't really feel like they were doing anything he might get a word for, so he stayed upon depositing the straw.

"I--" He had to consider that for a moment, glancing over at Dean who looked strangely happy. It made him happy, of course. That was how it worked. "I meant the couch, but--" he stopped, not feeling the need to finish.

Samandriel finished off his juice and set the glass aside. He tucked his legs under him and leaned against Cas a little. “When you finish your drink, will you help me get the knot out of my bow hand?” Lucifer and Dean might start fighting and Samandriel really, really needed to show them both that everything was okay. Samandriel and Castiel were fine. They were family first and everything else second.

--

Dean winced while he took a sip of his coke. “I know,” he said, almost apologetically. “I should have had a better handle on the situation, and I’m a possessive bastard and I owe you one.” It was the truth, but he wasn’t planning on letting Castiel out of his sight. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Samandriel to look out for him, he just didn’t trust Castiel not to have a grade A freak out and an all ‘round awful time. “What’s a man worth if he can’t follow through on his promises though?” And what he’d told Lucifer last time he was up here wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. Dean didn’t make threats.

Lucifer had realized that, which was why he'd allowed it in the first place. He didn't go back on his words or agreements, either, and he certainly hadn't expected Dean to. Samandriel was fine, and had liked it, but that didn't mean he hadn't been concerned in his own right.

"I don't think you owe me one. What's done is done because it had to be. Yours hasn't done anything to offend or be worried over. Not to me, anyhow." He glanced over at the two angels on the couch, and just looked a little bemused over their obvious fondness for each other. "There is something to be said about waiting, though. There's a certain despair in anticipation."


---

Cas, now equipped with a useful straw, saw fit to finish his drink off in record time -- nearly fast enough to give himself a headache. It probably wouldn't do well in the long run, he had a low tolerance, and rarely drank hard liquor. But currently it had seemed like a proper idea.

He settled his empty glass on a coaster nearby and offered his hands to Samandriel in order to run strong thumbs over the younger angel's knuckles. "Someday, this won't be an issue at all," he said, almost whimsically. Someday they'd be nearly completely different.

One day, they would. One day, Dean would be the only human among them, and Samandriel would quietly help Castiel work out the ways to keep his husband with him that didn’t involve their brother taking up residence in his body. He smiled almost sadly while he watched Cas’ sure fingers work over him.
“That day isn’t here yet, and I’m holding on to what scraps of humanity I can. I don’t mind the pain. It reminds me that I’m still connected to the world that I grew up in, that I still have ties here and that perhaps when I’m full angel...perhaps I’ll remember what it feels like to work my knuckles to the bone and feel the tendons in my hand tense up or earn callouses on my fingertips, but watch them split open and bleed if I put lotion on or take a break for too long to do other things.”

He looked up at Castiel. “You have a human you love more than anything to remind you of that, you had much more of a life before all of this. I imagine it’ll be easier for you to remember how important those things are. I’m just...afraid that I won’t, and in losing that part of my heart, I won’t be as Good as I can be.”

---

Dean watched them, oddly okay with their closeness. It was easier now than it had been before. He didn’t mind Cas seeing to Samandriel’s hands or the way that their hips touched where they were sitting. He didn’t mind the kid’s big ernest doe eyes up at Cas even while he looked like he’d probably kiss him if he had the permission slip signed.

“There is, yes,” Dean agreed, “but he’s young. From what Cas’ told me, even for an angel, he’s young. Sometimes the pup just needs to be put in his place so it can be comfortable there.” He looked over at Lucifer once he’d cleared his throat. “You ask me, though, if you’re not teasing the hell out of the boy while he’s playing, it’s a wasted opportunity to use those hormones in your favor.”


Lucifer snorted at that, leaning forward to lean against the table between them in a way that was almost lazy. For him. "Point," he murmured, thoughtfully. It wasn't as if Samandriel was lacking in teenage hormones. They weren't going to waste so much as leaked out everywhere in abundance. "He'd probably agree with you, too.

Not that Castiel looks exceptionally like a comfortable man." Samandriel did. He might be melting into that couch soon. Dean's husband, while more relaxed than he had been when they'd walked into the bar, still had an air about him that was oozing vague discomfort, his back still a little too straight. Perhaps it was just his natural state of being.


---

Cas pointedly did not think about things like Dean aging when he wouldn't. Didn't think about mortality versus thousands of years of age. Sometimes he wanted those celestial bits of himself back more than he could vocalize. Sometimes it scared him in ways that he was sure there were no words for at all. So rarely did there seem to be proper words, despite the fact that he knew every language.

He did know Samandriel was right though. He loved Dean more than anything. Remembering humanity might be a boon in the future. What the younger man didn't realize was that Castiel had never quite gotten it in the first place. Only now did he really, and it seemed strange since he hardly felt he was anymore. Some days.

"I do not think you'll lose any heart, Samandriel," Cas murmured, working his fingers in slow circles over the boys' palm. "It's as much a part of you as your grace will be. It always has been. You must realize this." Samandriel had always cared. Castiel had too, but not with the same intensity, not like that.

Castiel’s fingers working on his palm like that were having very strange effects on Samandriel indeed. Not bad ones, just nice, warm feelings that tingled up his arm and across his back to join the horrid, arousing ones that came from being able to hear what Dean and Lucifer spoke about.

“I’m still a warrior,” he said softly, nose against Castiel’s shoulder in a way that was comfortable even if it didn’t particularly look it. “Perhaps never a warrior first, but I still trained as one. I’m still capable of being more deadly than any human could. It’s hard to reconcile that, and giving in to that when I don’t want to fight and never have.”

--

“That’s about as much as he ever relaxes,” Dean pointed out dryly. “Wait until the alcohol properly hits him and he’ll slouch a little.” He stayed sitting in his tall chair. “Anticipation is one thing.” He smirked deviously at Lucifer. “Denial is a whole different beast. Kid should be glad that I didn’t take him to the point of crying. Speaking of.” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box with the cock ring Samandriel had used in it. “This is his. I don’t really care what happens to it, but I spent almost a week watching Cas looking at it like it was some kind of thing that was somehow going to bite him or something. Been used on him. No point in using it on anyone else.” Merry goddamn Christmas, kid.

No, Dean had taken someone else to the point of crying that night, and it hadn't been Samandriel. Lucifer knew that, but didn't care to make that particular rib.

Denial might have been good for the soul, but Samandriel did get to whining when it happened too much. He suppose that wouldn't be an issue if he was a bit firmer with the boy, but preferred the organic sort of pacing that he'd set, even if Sam didn't. Lucifer took the box and glanced at the contents with a bark of laughter. "Oh dear, are we getting gifts for each other now? I'll be sure to find something equally suiting that your husband won't be as offended by." But really, it would come in handy. He glanced over at Samandriel and rose an eyebrow.

---

Castiel found Samandriel's nose against his shoulder strangely bemusing and couldn't seem to help the smile that had crept up onto his face. Surely it was actually funny, and he wasn't feeling that drink already? It was just odd, he decided to himself before thinking he was over thinking things too much.

He had not forgotten that Samandriel could hear the other two men, but was unsure of how to ask for an update without giving himself away over it. Instead he just focused on the conversation they had going. "Knowing how and doing is different." But Cas wasn't sure, he'd never been disinclined to violence the way Samandriel had. "You will figure it out. We both will. Together."

Samandriel turned bright red listening to Lucifer and couldn’t help but look back at him. He knew what was in that box. Thinking about that box went straight to his cock and Samandriel really wanted to do something to provoke it. “Will we?” he asked, turning his attention back to Cas. So he didn’t have to reach across him to offer his other hand, Samandriel took advantage of the gap of space between Cas and the back of the couch. He wriggled and shifted until he was laying on his back behind Castiel and with his other, far more calloused hand in the elder angel’s.

“Lucifer’s talking about anticipation being fun to play out. Dean prefers denial. Not surprising. The ah...bit of non-jewelry I left at yours has just been handed to Lucifer. Apparently you might get a present too,” he whispered, looking up at Cas. He was pretty sure two could play this teasing game.

He could imagine it ending delightfully for all of them, or with a lesson in Dean learning to control his temper.

--

That was ah- certainly an interesting position to watch. Not a bad one, just interesting. Dean was curious to see how it was going to play out.

Not only that, but Samandriel was not subtle about relaying their conversation to Cas. “Shit, that was originally meant for me. I was just using what I had on hand and unopened.” Safety first, right? “Just don’t get him a butt plug. Friend of ours already got him one for his birthday and I think he’s terrified of it.” Dean was terrified of it. No way in hell was he shoving glass with a damn flower in it up Cas’ ass. “I’d say a gag might be nice, but he hates talking as it is so…” So Dean really, really liked making him. He winked at Lucifer, relaxing into whatever they were with each other.

“How far do you intend to let their little straight girls playing at lesbians making out for attention play go?” Because making out...yeah that was a very definite thing that could happen given how much alcohol was in Cas’ body and the fact that he knew that Dean liked watching him do it. Easy money was on Samandriel initiating it though.

At this new position, Castiel looked several shades of uncomfortable. The drink he'd downed was doing it's proper job though, and he was strangely uncomfortable and relaxed. He licked his lips thoughtfully, fingers still working at Samandriel's hand in his own.

He'd forgotten their previous conversation and twisted a bit so that he was leaned more over the younger angel, if only because it was less strenuous on his back. Castiel's whisper made his tone go to extreme lows, but was somehow not really quieter. "I don't need a present," he said, although was curious. "But I think you are trying to make a scene, little brother." It wasn't even a scolding, it was just a statement. He wasn't really playing along, though, so much as he was allowing it.

--

"He'd probably rejoice at being given a gag then. That's on you, Winchester. You really should have him reconsider the plug though. Just imagine his discomfort in public." Lucifer's eyes were on the two on the couch. Samandriel did have a bratty streak, and it was interesting to watch alongside Castiel's just barely curved back and stiff shoulders. "I'm sure I'll find something proper, no worries."

He paused, considering. The question was amusingly put, and Lucifer couldn't help but tear his eyes away from the couch to look at Dean. He smiled, amused. The other man clearly wanted to see something happen.

"Oh," he said, as if completely aware Samandriel was listening, and just goading him on to see where things went. "I think they'll both realize when they've overdone it."

What could Dean say? He liked a bit of a show particularly when the parties involved were so easy on the eyes. “Precisely why I was trying to suggest it for yours,” he replied, looking over at Lucifer briefly.

Samandriel pulled his hand in a way that was more meant to guide Cas along to follow than get away from him. “And I know that they’re encouraging it,” he whispered, lacing his fingers with Castiel’s while he pushed himself up with the other hand to rest their foreheads together.

“They know I can hear them.” His breath was warm in the air between them. “And there they are talking about us and buttplugs and cock rings and gags and all sorts of ways to make us uncomfortable. Some of them in public.” His thumbnail traced a little against the soft, sensitive skin of the inside of Castiel’s wrist.

“Apparently you got one for your birthday, and I didn’t get you a gift at all. We play our cards right, and I could get you some of Dean’s fire when you get home.” He knew how much Cas loved that.


Lucifer only smiled and watched the angels on the couch. Clearly the ball of this sudden, but not very surprising, game was in their court. For now.

Cas' breath hitched in his throat, and he had to resist the urge to turn and look over at Dean at the table across the room (Lucifer, he wasn't particularly concerned about). The fact that it was so difficult to stop himself was really saying a lot for that screwdriver he'd had.

Pointedly not thinking about plugs or rings, (while secretly delighting in the idea of his mouth being too busy for words) Cas closed his eyes for a moment, keeping that balance of their foreheads touching. "Fire," he repeated, as if working out if that was a suitable reason for this or not. He did rather like -- well. Dean. In the privacy of their own home. Or the garage. Wherever.

He tilted his head a little, lips brushing against Samandriel's ear -- it probably looked like a kiss on the cheek from a distance. "You are a reckoning influence, Samandriel, I'm shocked." He really wasn't. Not really.

Samandriel took a slow breath, surprised at Castiel’s bold teasing. He turned just enough to nudge his nose against Castiel’s cheek, to speak low against stubbled skin at an angle where lips could not be read, “Liar.”

Hand slipping from Castiel’s grasp, the very tip of one finger traced Castiel’s index and then ran along it, his thumbnail occasionally teasing the tip and pad of that finger too. It was an unsubtle, if brief teasing before he let the one finger become all four along the lines of tendon in the back of Castiel’s hand.

He looked at Lucifer through his lashes while his hand moved up Castiel’s arm.

Lucifer looked right back, taking Samandriel's eye contact and keeping it. He lifted his chin a little and finished off his martini, setting it down without even looking at the table.

"Mine is aware of his sway in the matter," he told Dean, almost fondly. Samandriel was more cunning than most might give him credit for. "Is yours?" He glanced over at Dean, wondering if harmless fun might turn into jealous possessiveness.

Cas only tilted his head down lower, shoulders hunching as he finally slouched down a little more (much as Dean had predicted), turning his hand into the light touch on his wrist and shivering slightly. Because he knew Dean was watching. And that made it okay. Dean made everything okay; his silence here was both permission and prompt.

Which, really, was why he thought it was a clever and bold idea both to kiss Samandriel; Castiel never had been subtle.

Dean’s brows rose when Cas actually took the initiative. Good thing he hadn’t actually put money on it. It was a surprise, yeah, but Dean found he wasn’t too upset about it, or upset at all really. He was kinda proud, which felt a bit weird, but whatever.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Dean said calmly. Dean didn’t think for a second that there wasn’t a world in which Cas lived where he wasn’t the absolute center of the universe. If Cas thought this was going to upset Dean, this wouldn’t be happening.

Samandriel looked away from Lucifer when the kiss came, quietly smug at Lucifer’s tone, his implicit pride in him. He kept Castiel’s kiss slow and sensual, their mouths moving like poetry together. Dean wasn’t far off in his comparison of what they were doing to straight girls making out for attention, but that didn’t mean that he and Castiel didn’t genuinely care for each other, or that they couldn’t express it freely.

It was a testament to his respect for both Lucifer and Castiel that Samandriel was making a very concentrated effort to keep his wings out of sight.

"Apparently." Lucifer was a bit surprised at the bold move that Castiel had gone for as well; he really hadn't seemed the type to do anything that wasn't positively meek. Begrudgingly, he allowed himself the thought that he shouldn't have judged so quickly.

It was a pretty kiss, as far as watching went. Slow, languid and still somehow enthusiastic despite that. Lucifer had half a mind to just let the boys work themselves up stupidly like that and then pointedly ignore them. He wasn't going to, but it amused him anyway.

Eventually, Castiel had to pull away from Samandriel, chapped lips a little more pink than normal as he leaned back just enough to take a tiny huff of breath and then wet his mouth again. He glanced at Dean, flushed but unapologetic, even as he settled an almost lazy hand on the younger angel's knee. The plan (not his, but one he'd gone with) had been to make a scene. He was fairly certain they had.

Dean’d hooked the heel of his shoe on the crossbar of his tall chair and lounged comfortably in it. He arched a brow, watching his angel, but withheld comment for the time being. The brow was more of a gesture to ‘continue’ than it was any kind of threat that meant he needed to stop.

The hand to Samandriel’s knee felt rather like an invitation to relax more, so he did. There was a playful nip to Castiel’s lower lip before the youngest of them tipped his head back, baring his throat in such a way that would allow him to watch Lucifer if Castiel chose to take the invitation offered to him. His fingers threaded into dark hair, his eyes half-lidded and pupils wide with lust. He almost wanted to make a paint me like one of your French girls joke, but decided against it.

Castiel wouldn't have gotten it anyway. He did not, in fact, paint or have any French girls. He did, however, take the invitation given, leaning in closer and scraping his teeth against Samandriel's adam's apple and nearly gently kissing the spot there.

It was easier now than it'd been that first time. Dean was clearly pleased, clearly willing him to continue and there was no shock to the scene -- it had been simply prompted and there was no sense of trouble of foreboding. He was a little tingly, the back of his tongue still tasting of vodka and orange juice and his nerves eased by that drink slightly. He always had gotten a little more social with liquor.

If there was anything strange about two pairs of eyes watching this, it was the fact that he liked it.

Lucifer was of the opinion that his life had been much simpler before meeting all these ridiculous men. Not really better, just less -- distracting. He glanced over at Dean and then back to Dean's husband biting his boyfriend’s neck. Raising an eyebrow at Samandriel, Lucifer stood to make sure the door to this particular room was locked.

With the door locked (and by Lucifer no less,) Samandriel assumed this was all okay. That was good, because his arm didn’t really want to support his weight much longer. The boy leaned back, turning his attention to Castiel, staying calm and (hopefully) tempting. This was okay. They’d done this in front of Dean before. Paint and music weren’t the only ways Samandriel knew how to make art.
Dean didn’t visually track Lucifer across the room, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention to it while he watched the pair of them just going at it like one of those weird European films that one girl he used to fuck sometimes liked so much. He was partly curious to see if Lucifer was planning on coming back to the table or joining in, but ultimately was far, far more comfortable with the idea of those two going at it rather than either of them involved. Their angels could play happily for as long as they wanted. Dean wasn’t ready for Lucifer to have his hands on Cas and frankly, touching Samandriel without cause (or in front of the devil,) wasn’t really Dean’s idea of a good time yet.

“Not gonna lie, man,” he said when a slight up nod brought Lucifer back over to him. Sometimes it paid to be the hothead. “Kinda feel outclassed in your den of iniquity here.”


Lucifer laughed at that -- and looked a little pleased at the almost backhanded compliment. "Den of iniquity? Hardly, Dean. This is merely a finer establishment I've worked hard on. Rooms for private parties aren't uncommon in bars and clubs."

He had no real intention of joining in with the younger angels on the couch, (it was good enough to watch. And eventually he might ask something of them, but for now he was content to let it be a study of personality. On all their parts) instead moving behind the little private bar on the other side of the room. Another drink for him. Water for Samandriel. Sprite for Dean, and possibly another too strong drink for the angel whose spine constantly seemed too straight.

"Although I certainly wouldn't mind having a real den of iniquity." Sometimes Lucifer found himself considering the wasted space of his finished, but never used, basement.


Castiel was torn between listening to the two men speak, and paying mind to Samandriel. Paying attention to two things at once was a chore sometimes, and he gave a little sigh even as he tilted his head down further to nibble at Samandriel's collar bone. It wasn't the same as kissing Dean, but nothing was.

Samandriel closed his eyes and let out a soft little moan, fingers trailing deeper into Castiel’s hair while he really, really wished taking off clothes more than just his tie (which he’d done before the other men came up,) and the top few buttons of his shirt was an option. He did feel rather striking and powerful all in black though even if now his waistcoat felt a bit too tight and so did his trousers.

Now, he leaned further back, actually laying on the couch again because it suited him and maybe because he was still curious as to how far they could push the envelope.

“I wouldn’t mind him having a real den of iniquity, either,” he murmured. What? It’d been obvious that Castiel had been listening too.

Dean took the soda with a small nod of thanks. “Den of inequity for the mechanic as compared to your clientele downstairs,” he pointed out. “Pretty sure there were at least three former debutantes checking out my and Castiel’s asses earlier.” Which was fine. Cas had a great ass. Dean had a phenomenal ass. It was a thing. He was used to it. He was not used to some old lady looking like she was about to take a handful and squeeze.

He watched the angels. “Take your coat off, Castiel. It’s ruining the view,” he said to them and then turned his attention back to Lucifer. “What kind of den of iniquity are we talking here?” Dean could build pretty much anything. Not like he needed contract work, but it was a quiet offer if Lucifer wanted to have the help for space that given these two, they would no doubt be sharing at some point.

Castiel obliged without question, removing his beige overcoat (he'd become very attached to that coat, even though the California weather did not suit it), and moving away from Samandriel enough so that he could neatly place it on the back of the couch. He paused for a moment and then removed his suit coat as well. It was air conditioned in here, but layers, cuddling and alcohol did make it warmer than he liked.

The expression he offered his younger brother was half amused and curious all at the same time. I'm just getting ahead of the game, it said, followed closely by Where are we going with this?

Absently, Lucifer settled the new drinks down for the angels on a nearby table, and then went back to sitting across from Dean. "There's no rules against looking when there's something or someone attractive to stare at," he told the other man, half amused. His bar wasn't exactly a lounge meant for hooking up, but it still happened, just like in any other place.

He paused, spearing olives from his drink with a toothpick, and then stirring them almost lazily around his glass. "I… have a rather large basement," he said finally. "It's finished. Furnished. But goes mostly to waste, considering."

Dean nodded in understanding. “Looking, no, just not the kind of money I’m used to having look.” Not anymore, at least. Back a few years before Cas...well you had to charm how you could, right? “I ah...used to work in the industry and still know a few people there. If you want, I can see about getting you things wholesale.” Connections were connections, even if they were kind of skeevy connections.

Samandriel took a sip of his water, glad to see that Lucifer thought to give Castiel a proper straw this time. The look he gave his brother was clear, saying come cuddle with me and we’ll make out some more once we finish our drinks and it’ll be great. Cas would have to be the big spoon.

Samandriel really liked the idea of that and moreover liked the idea of grinding his ass down into Castiel’s crotch once that drink hit his system properly. Samandriel wasn’t Dean and Castiel wasn’t Lucifer, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have a bit of fun together anyway.

Cas followed suit, sipping at his new drink with a thoughtful expression eyes turning from Samandriel after a brief acceptance and toward Dean, who was being rather open with things that he'd considered to be secrets. Poorly kept secrets, but still. Really, that wasn't the most interesting part of the conversation, although he wasn't quite sure what sorts of things they were really getting at, anyway.

His drink was possibly stronger this time around, but he didn't even see fit to make a face when he found a pocket of what could only be vodka near the bottom of the glass.


Giving Dean a rather curious expression, Lucifer rose a brow at the other man. It was almost ridiculous, but he didn't assume that he'd done set design or camera work. "I'm not spectacularly concerned about prices, wholesale or otherwise," he said, shrugging. "My keenest interest would be in quality, of course. It'd be a shame to break anything." And okay, yeah, he glanced at Samandriel when he said that.

Dean sipped his Sprite nonchalantly. “No, but when you’re getting into quality like that, shit ain’t cheap. I can at least put you in touch with a guy who does custom pieces.” He nodded at the angels. “Might be good for the wings I apparently can’t see.” Hey, he had a point, and for Cas’ little brother he’d revisit his past.

Castiel seemed to be drinking either too fast or not nearly fast enough. Samandriel wasn’t certain. What he was certain of was that the glass was mostly empty save for a few bits trapped between the ice, and all stretched out there, Samandriel was lonely.

“Join me?” he murmured, looking plaintively at his brother. Frankly, Lucifer’s conversation with Dean was affecting him in more than one way, and if he could fuck himself down on Castiel’s cock (through their pants, certainly, which meant it wasn’t really fucking but it was close enough,) it might get him somewhere closer to what he wanted. Somehow. Sex logic was weird.

Probably because sex logic wasn't logic at all. Cas finished off his drink in record time, settling it down onto a coaster with a ridiculous show of care (probably something to do with what wasn't in the glass anymore) and nodded, moving down to cuddle into the couch with Samandriel. He pressed in close so that they'd both fit, and rested his head almost lazily on the crook of his own arm.

This was nice, if not a little strange. It felt almost like an absurd dream -- his husband just chatting with someone else while Castiel just lazed about on a couch with a brother from the heavenly host. He snuffed out a tiny laugh over it.

"That could work," Lucifer agreed, nodding. He wasn't sure about the wing proposition, if only because they were strange, sort of metaphysical things that he didn't quite understand himself. They'd work on that eventually -- possibly once Lucifer got over his own stupid awe of them. "You'll have to come over some time, if you've a good eye for that sort of thing. I'll show you the basement." Not so much a come on as a clearer invitation for further -- whatever that was. He had to admit he was … something beyond interested at the way Samandriel and Castiel were behaving.

Dean nodded. “Pretty sure I can offer some useful input.” He tried not looking too much at Lucifer, using the way Cas had fitted himself behind Samandriel as the excuse for it. Really it was just the way he knew, just knew that Lucifer was the ranking power in the room. Authority. Whatever. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but he wasn’t completely uncomfortable either. It was an odd situation to be in. Cas, he’d be on his knees for willing and gladly in a heartbeat. Lucifer...Lucifer would have to fight for it, but it would only be so long before Dean gave in.

Like Cas might with the way Samandriel was moving and Dean refused to intervene.

The way Samandriel was moving of course, involved pressing back against his angel brother, back to chest and hips rubbing slow, slow torture against that crotch, neck bared while he relaxed with his eyes closed. He wanted both men at the table watching them, wanted Castiel’s hands moving over his body. Samandriel, quite frankly, wanted to get fucked and hard.

Sometimes Castiel wasn't sure why he didn't expect what was coming -- it wasn't as if Samandriel hadn't been clearly plotting some bratty deviousness. But for some reason he sort of was shocked when the younger angel started grinding against him -- he made a whimpering sort of noise followed by quick breathlessness and squirmed just enough to bury his nose in the back of Samandriel's neck. He moved the fingers of his free hand, settling them on the younger man's waist -- completely unsure if he was prompting more or trying to steady those hips into activity.

It was very unfortunate that laying in this position made it impossible to see Dean.

Luckily for Dean, Lucifer had no want or intention of making Dean submit. Hadn't even considered it. He was, of course, authoritative -- he always had been, and had the sort of upbringing that catered to that sort of thing. But that didn't mean always felt the need to use it. He glanced at Dean and then back to the two on the couch. "We'll pick a date for that in the near future." He paused, considering the noises coming out of Dean's husband, and the situation at hand. "Samandriel is apparently becoming quite the practiced tease." It was a matter of great will to state that so blandly.

Dean just watched with mild interest. “Still think a shorter leash would benefit him, but I’m not going to complain right now.” The kid didn’t need any further training to be brought to heel. One word out of Lucifer and he was pretty sure Samandriel would behave immediately.

“Did you see your boy’s youtube famous?” Dean asked dryly. He was sure Lucifer knew about the fight, probably. It might not ever occur to Samandriel to lie to him even by omission. Heaven was full of warriors, even the kindest of them it seemed. That, and that little twinky bastard kicked the shit out of those guys and it was the most satisfying thing to watch.

Samandriel’s pace settled, a slow rocking of his hips that truly would have been closer to riding him like that had they not been fully clothed. The hand on his waist wasn’t skirting nearly low enough, but he wasn’t going to ask for more. He wouldn’t ask for anything like that from Castiel. He would merely accept what he was given and occasionally hope for more.

Samandriel had as short a leash as Lucifer wanted him to. He openly enjoyed the fact that his boyfriend was a cheeky little shit, and wouldn't have it any other way in most cases. And in the cases he would? He'd say so. There was something very appealing to him about strong personality and free will.

"Youtube famous? Whatever for?" He rose an eyebrow as if to say, no, I did not in fact know that, but would be delighted to and you are going to tell me exactly now.

Castiel had lost track of the conversation going on across the room, instead was focusing on breathing properly, hot breaths landing against Samandriel's neck, even as he half squirmed his hips further into the rocking. His fingers didn't go lower, but did settle more deeply into the curve of Samandriel's waist.

Samandriel blocked out everything but Castiel (or tried to, it was difficult with the conversation going on and what he knew was coming,) kept his moving. He was pretty sure that Cas was at least a little bit hard. There was no hiding that Samandriel himself was very much in that boat. He looked a little over his shoulder at Cas. If this shifted positions from his steady, infuriating tease, it would be Castiel who did it. Or, in fact, it would be Lucifer who called him away from it.

Dean answered that with an arched brow. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, loaded the video, muted it and handed it to Lucifer. And people called him the righteous man.

Taking the phone, Lucifer watched the little video, sort of squinting at the tiny screen even with a raised eyebrow.

It was -- interesting to say the least. Surprising but not at the same time. That he'd heard nothing about this beforehand was strange, but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd just not asked for proper clarification during one of Samandriel's moodier afternoons. Perhaps he should have.

"Samandriel," he said, clearly. "Why hadn't I heard of this?"

At Lucifer's tone, Castiel let out a little whimper of a moan, tilting his head further forward until his forehead was rested against the back of Samandriel's neck. That tone was a clear call to stop and explain, and it seemed oddly unfair. About as unfair as that slow burn of grinding had been in the first place.

No no no. Samandriel was just about to nudge Cas into moving around him and he was going to end up on his back and it was going to be amazing. All at once he very much wanted to stab Dean Winchester. Not fatally, perhaps, but definitely to punctuate the statement of frustration.

“Because no one touched me and I…” He trailed off, considering his words, “I was disgusted with myself for allowing my temper to get the best of me in such a visible way.” Samandriel’s hips stilled and his focus was entirely on Lucifer. He wouldn’t move away from Castiel until he was told to verbally or not.

Settling his chin on a palm, Lucifer stared at Samandriel -- not completely visible from his position on the couch. He wasn't mad, not really. There was absolutely no reason he should have issue with self defense (and he didn't), but he did have a bit of a problem with not knowing things. Important things.

"Sit up and look at me when we're speaking," he said, not unkindly, even if he did realize it was a cruel thing to pull the boy away from his sexual hopes on that couch.

Samandriel did Lucifer one better, because he knew it should be expected of him and he wasn’t putting anything ahead of Lucifer. Not only that, but sitting up would just put his ass more in Castiel’s crotch and he’d really rather not make this worse for both of them.

So in a breath, he went from the couch to kneeling next to Lucifer’s chair looking up at him. “Yes, Lucifer.”

Such perfect behavior, really. Lucifer didn't care if anyone else was watching or not, he carded his hand through Samandriel's hair and then rested it on the back of his neck. "These are the sort of things that I ought know about and not learn from a friend or the internet, wouldn't you agree?"

Castiel had to lick his lips, count to five in his head before sitting up -- wavering slightly even in a seated position -- and blink eyes, darker than usual, in Dean's direction. He wouldn't speak, because clearly there was something going on that he had no place or part in, but it did not stop him from practically begging at Dean with a glance.

“Yes, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, shifting with the push-pull of Lucifer’s fingers in his hair.

Dean looked at the pair of them and quietly got up to go touch his own angel. “Get your things,” he murmured against the shell of his ear. Cas wasn’t going to be able to be as civil as possible for much longer. He was too tipsy and too desperate for it.

After leaning into Dean for just a short second, Cas practically scrambled up -- grabbing his suit jacket and his overcoat, but not seeming to be able to manage the actual task of putting them back on. Probably for the best, really, since carrying them at his waist might hide any issue he was having for the public.

He didn't quite wobble when he stood, but his cheeks were a bit more colored than they had any right being, and Castiel saw no reason not to press himself to Dean's side.

Lucifer glanced up at the two, offering a bemused smile and a tiny gesture that was nearly a wave. He wasn't angry with Samandriel, but he was pleased for the privacy Dean saw fit to give. This conversation would be continued once the other men had seen their way out.

Samandriel watched as the pair of them left, even gifted both Castiel and Dean with a small smile of farewell for their troubles. When they were gone and the door closed behind them again, his attention returned to Lucifer.

“I should have told you,” he said, clearly understanding all of that and regretting not doing so, “but I was afraid and ashamed. I’m sorry, Lucifer.”

"There's no shame in protecting yourself," Lucifer said, calmly. "And there's no shame in feeling like you need to prove you can." He tilted his head thoughtfully, running his hand through Samandriel's hair again. "But that wasn't really it, was it? Because you could have just as easily left."

Samandriel closed his eyes, allowing Lucifer’s fingers to calm him. “I didn’t want them to feel like they could get away with that anymore for anyone,” he said quietly, “and...and I was so upset with my mother that their actions were the last straw. I’m not weak. I just pick my battles, and I chose that one because I couldn’t fight the other one.” Not without putting so much at risk.

He stayed quiet for a beat and then added, “I’ve started seeing a therapist behind my parents’ back.” Illegal, yes, but also necessary.

The reasoning was easily accepted, and Lucifer had no real input for that. Samandriel had a point, and no one could blame a timeless celestial seventeen year old for wanting to act out on his emotions every now and then, especially toward those who were deserving of it.

"Anyone in their right mind wouldn't consider you weak," he told the younger man and then gestured for him to sit down in the chair that Dean abandoned. "Therapy is a good idea. But if your parents are unaware, it's not on your insurance. How are you paying for it?"

Samandriel didn’t want to sit in the chair, but now that the time for kneeling in apology seemed to be over, he shifted to sit at Lucifer’s side on the floor instead. “Sneaking money out of my savings. I pay cash and hope she doesn’t notice.”

Any spot was a good spot so long as he was comfortable, Lucifer supposed. It wasn't exactly high on manners, sitting on the floor, but he didn't seem to mind.

Lucifer leaned over and gave Samandriel a very wry sort of expression. "No more of that, Sam. Tell me how much you took out of your savings and I'll replace it. And from now on, have your therapist send the bill to me. I won't have your health become an issue of argument with your parents."

Samandriel closed his eyes and leaned his head against Lucifer’s leg. “Take it out of my pay then,” he said softly. He liked it there, close to him. Lucifer spent too much money on him as it was. Sure, money was no object, but that meant little to him. This was his therapy. He needed it, and he ought to earn the money to cover it.

“Was I good for you tonight?” he asked, speaking not only of mostly behaving for his brother and Dean, but also his playing.

Lucifer rolled his eyes at that, but didn't argue. If Samandriel wanted to deal with it himself, fine. Lucifer might just make sure he got bonuses on his check that made up for the prices though. He never had been very good at being told no. Samandriel was his boyfriend; and in a way his health was a personal investment to Lucifer. It benefited them both for it to be paid for. The older man had never been amazingly tactile emotionally and so a show of money would have to do.

"You are always good, Samandriel. You played beautifully." Both the instrument and on the couch.

Samandriel looked up at Lucifer and smiled. “Are you really going to redecorate your basement?” There was hope in his voice, hope for all those things and perhaps a desire that Lucifer might ask for them to go home soon.

"Would you like me to?" Lucifer countered, even though it was clear he didn't really need to ask. That hope had been enough. Still, sometimes it was just nice to have a proper affirmative. He cared more for Samandriel's opinion than most would probably give him credit for. Dynamics or otherwise, they were equals on some levels.

“I would, yes,” Samandriel said. He wanted to know what that felt like, to be trussed up and used properly. It gave him a little thrill just thinking about it. “I would also very much like to go home with you if that’s okay.”

Lucifer nodded and then snuffed out a little laugh. "I thought that might be the case. Sorry to ruin your fun with the Winchester Angel." And he was a bit, but not completely. "Let me do a round downstairs, and then we can go, since that's what you'd like."

“There will be other times,” Samandriel said calmly. “And I prefer him sober and aware of what he’s doing anyway.” He got up and went to get his tie and coat and settle up his violin. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

"Probably for the best," Lucifer agreed. Castiel had gone from wary to entirely too eager a bit too quickly. What a strange man. Lucifer thought it ridiculous, but Dean suited him well.

"You're welcome," he agreed, standing and fixing his jacket a little before heading toward the door. He wasn't sure what he was being thanked for, but he'd make sure to find new reasons for it later.