Who: Lucifer + Samandriel What: Talking about important stuff When: 10/14 Where: Their place Rating: Technically low, they’re just talking. But there’s some adult theme to it. Status: Complete
Lucifer had taken enough time for himself to get over the scene that had gone on in the restaurant the week before -- Samandriel getting anxious and then snippy and then -- well -- rude with other patrons and then flat out leaving him alone in the place. At the time it had admittedly both worried and annoyed him both.
He was over it now, but that didn't mean he was going to let it slide, not when he knew that Samandriel could be better than that.
Waiting now, for Samandriel to come home from wherever he was with Castiel, Lucifer was fixing himself a kettle of tea in the kitchen. He figured he'd make enough for both of them (although he was also sure Samandriel would turn it down), but mostly it was just because he expected to be doing a lot of talking. Tea always helped for that.
Samandriel came back with shadows under his eyes, but that he’d not been sleeping well was no secret. It turned out that he wasn’t yet completely beyond the need for sleep at all. He just needed less, but it helped nothing that it seemed whenever he slept, he dreamed. Those dreams were never good.
Still, he came home like he promised he always would and even took a shower so that when he came downstairs he wouldn’t be smelling of sex and Castiel. He wasn’t trying to hide if of course, Lucifer had to have known, but he was trying to be polite. Samandriel thought that showing with actions rather than words would make it better somehow make it less...rude. He’d been saying very little at all since the stunt he pulled in the restaurant.
When he came back downstairs it was in a loose t-shirt and a pair of Lucifer’s boxers and the fervent hope that maybe he might be forgiven. He doubted it. Why would Lucifer forgive him when Samandriel couldn’t forgive himself?
"Hello," Lucifer murmured, tilting his head to the side to at least get Samandriel in his line of vision with his greeting while he finished off making the tea. "How was Castiel?" The politeness was appreciated, as always.
“Tired, it seems,” Samandriel said, dropping a kiss on the back of Lucifer’s shoulder. Tea was happening and there were two mugs. Lovely. So the talk was happening now then was it? Samandriel tried to get his anxiety under enough control to keep from flying off. Literally. “We didn’t speak much about him.”
Lucifer was under the impression that Castiel wouldn't speak about himself if prompted anyway, everything had a note of Dean to it when the other angel spoke.
But really, that wasn't the point, this moment wasn't about those two, only Samandriel and himself. He poured two cups of tea, but didn't ask Samandriel if he wanted any or not, only half nodded as he moved toward the kitchen table. "We're going to talk," he said, as if it weren't completely obvious.
“Yes, sir,” Samandriel said, looking longingly at the living room and the couch where he could curl up properly and protect himself. He sat at the kitchen table anyway to Lucifer’s right. While his wings were very firmly out of view, they were also very definitely pulled in tight to protect him from himself.
Lucifer seated himself as well before setting both mugs down and pushing one near Samandriel before wrapping long fingers of both hands around his own mug. He always had a preference for cinnamon flavors.
"First," he said -- seeing no reason not to get down to business immediately -- "I'd like to apologize to you, Samandriel. I feel I've been far from full understanding what you're going through, and have been a bit lax in other areas as well. I am sorry for that."
Samandriel let the mug serve as a place for his attention to remain fixed. His arms settled loosely around his waist while he fidgeted with his thumb against the rough band Lucifer had gotten for him. “Thank you, sir.”
Lucifer considered that response for a moment, running a finger along the top of his mug and just watching Samandriel. He hadn't been expecting anything in particular in response, but that didn't mean he wasn't slightly surprised at the lack of -- well. Much of anything.
"Let me ask you something," he said after a beat. "And you don't have to talk a lot if you don't want to. Yes or no is fine, and I'll work with it." He sipped his drink to make sure he actually had Samandriel's attention before going on. "Do you want this, still? I don't mean me-- us, I mean the rest of it."
Samandriel lifted his head to look at Lucifer. “I’m not sure I understand. Will you explain please?” Because now he was genuinely worried that he was actually going to lose everything. Better now than later, right? His anxiety got the better of him and his wings shimmered partially into view with his focus broken.
"Calm down," Lucifer said, reassuringly, eying those wings like he was worried himself Samandriel might take off. "I'm referring to the submission." They'd never quite put a word to it, it didn't seem so cut and dry as all that. "Is that still something you want to give?"
“Oh,” Samandriel said, wings shifting out of view again as he dropped his gaze back down, though this time it landed on Lucifer’s hand. “Yes, it is.”
"I thought as much. I've been lax there too," he said, and sounded genuinely sorry about it. "Again, I apologize, Samandriel. After -- everything. It was hard to get into that sort of frame of mind. It still is, in a way. But I should have spoken with you about it instead of just letting us both flounder. I understand if you're angry with me."
“I’m not,” Samandriel said. “I mean it’s not like I haven’t seen the photos and not like you don’t know what happened when they were taken.” The evidence of all of that had been splattered over Samandriel’s too pale skin. “You’re trying to take care of both of us and...and it seemed like a better idea to me to let you do what you needed to in order to heal.” And not ask for what he needed. Angels needed a hierarchy most of the time. Samandriel in particular needed a firmer hand than what he could feel comfortable asking for. A sense of order went a very, very long way.
Lucifer was getting that now, and even if Samandriel wasn't angry over it, that didn't mean Lucifer shouldn't have been paying better attention. "Okay," he said slowly, pausing to sip his tea before going on. "But that's not how things work, okay? Not how they should. Because we can't both just make assumptions of each other and then hope for the best. There needs to be communication. A lot of it. I can't just guess at what you're feeling and then further assume from my guesses at how to fix things -- it could result in everything being much worse. Does this make sense?"
“Yes, Lucifer,” Samandriel said, shifting a bit in his chair while he worked through things in his mind. “I need that,” he admitted. “Badly. I don’t...I don’t do well drifting.”
"I've noticed," Lucifer replied, and it wasn't accusing or cruel, just straight observation. "And now we're going to work on it." He paused, ringers running over the lip of his mug again. "Samandriel," he said, rather pointedly. "I'd like you to sit by my side, right now." His gaze flickered to the spot on the floor by his chair, and it was clear he didn't mean for the younger man to scoot his chair over.
Samandriel didn’t get up. The right now implied that Lucifer wanted faster than Samandriel could move with legs and so he used his wings to end up settled comfortably on his knees next to him.
Lucifer only offered an amused almost lopsided smile at that, and wasn't sure why he was surprised that Samandriel took it so literally. He moved his free hand down to settle on top of Samandriel's head. "Walk next time. I like watching you, and I think it might help you to focus better if you have to be conscious of every movement."
He sipped his tea again, and then let out a little sigh. "Now, let's make some real rules."
“Yes, sir,” Samandriel said, closing his eyes to bask in even the smallest bit of positive contact.
Which, really, was the point. Lucifer wanted Samandriel to relax, not just sit there like he was going to be punished or something worse. "You're to think of a safe word," Lucifer said. "Before we didn't need one, and believe me when I say your choices are important to me. I know no is no, but we should still have one. You're more than allowed to use it for anything you need. Including just talking."
Samandriel considered his options for a long moment, mulling over what might or might not be a halfway decent safeword. Something he’d never have cause to say otherwise and would throw them both into a frame of mind that Samandriel needed to be protected and was feeling kind of twitchy. “Winchester,” he finally decided. He wasn’t going to use his own last name, current or future and while ‘Michael’ had crossed his mind, it wouldn’t have nearly the effect he wanted it to.
Lucifer only nodded at that. It was, at the very least, easy to remember. "Alright," he agreed. "I'd like to make it clear that if you use that word, we'll stop whatever it is, no questions asked or argument made. But I will want to talk about it later. I'll need to know what made you feel bothered or unsafe enough to bring it up." He pet at Samandriel's hair, fingers twisting through it almost idly.
"Next. If there's something you want that I'm not giving you, you need to tell me or ask me. I can't just guess, and I don't want you to feel frustrated or ignored because I'm just being oblivious."
“What if I don’t know what I want?” Samandriel said, understanding the first part of that statement perfectly well enough to not have to comment on it at all.
"Then tell me so and make your best guess." He thought it was fair, and probably do-able. That had to count for something.
He led Samandriel over a little closer by pushing gently on his head until the boy could rest his chin on his thigh. "Are you comfortable? Would you prefer a cushion to sit on?"
Samandriel rested his head on Lucifer’s thigh, cheek against cloth as he closed his eyes and relaxed. “I’m fine, thank you, sir.”
"Good," Lucifer murmured, rubbing the curve of his thumb against Samandriel's cheek. "Now. We should talk about the restaurant." He said it kindly, nearly a suggestion, in hopes of showing he wasn't angry over it.
Samandriel tensed visibly. “I would much rather not,” he said softly. “It won’t happen again.” Mostly because Samandriel had absolutely no intention of going anywhere in public where he might embarrass Lucifer again.
Lucifer sighed, but only continued to run his fingers through the angel's hair. "I'll need to know eventually," he said, but it was a slight agreement to back off from it for now. "In exchange for not speaking on it yet, you need to give me something else. That's how it's going to work tonight. What's on your mind?"
"You need to know what?" Samandriel asked, looking up at Lucifer. "I lost control, behaved appallingly and then avoided taking responsibility for my actions. It was unacceptable and it won't happen again." As it turned out, what was on Samandriel's mind was very much the conversation he didn't want to be having.
Not surprising. "Yes," Lucifer said, keeping Samandriel's gaze, but running a soothing finger over his cheek. "Those things all happened. I'm aware. I want to know what made you lose control and what made you think you couldn't speak to me about it."
“I couldn’t focus,” Samandriel answered. “And...and it was just too much hate and anger and I couldn’t...I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes. “Shame,” answered the last bit succinctly enough. Shame in general seemed to fuel too many of Samandriel’s avoidances.
"Shame of what?" Lucifer leaned down a little until he could press an easy kiss to the top of Samandriel's head.
“Embarrassing you.”
"I wasn't embarrassed," Lucifer said, attempting to sound mild about it. "I won't say I wasn't disappointed, but I certainly think we can get past that."
“Close enough,” Samandriel replied. “Those things feel the same on this end.” He opened his eyes and looked up at Lucifer. “Have we discussed this sufficiently for you?”
"They aren't the same. And if I felt we were done discussing it, I'd probably have told you so, or stopped speaking on it. Do you have somewhere you ought to be, Samandriel?" And okay, yes. He was edging toward irritated here -- even a man with near infinite patience lost it now and again.
Samandriel pulled his head not so much back, but turned it away again. He stayed on Lucifer’s thigh, but his gaze was now fixed somewhere near the other man’s small toe and the floor beside it. “No, sir.”
"Look at me." Lucifer curled his fingers back into Samandriel's hair and tilted his head down to meet the angel's eyes whenever he was ready for that. "You said you wanted this, and I just told you in no uncertain terms that communication came with it."
Samandriel whimpered softly, but looked at him anyway. “Yes, sir.” It hadn’t escaped Samandriel’s notice that he was no longer being chided at all for using ‘sir’ which was good because he honestly couldn’t imagine saying anything else at all under the circumstances. “I just don’t know what’s left to be said on the subject.”
Sir wasn't necessarily Lucifer's preference, but he didn't dislike it so much where it bothered him. At least he knew that when Samandriel said it, it was an attempt to be humble and respectful. If the younger man needed it, Lucifer wouldn't begrudge him that.
"I was just trying to understand," he explained, "so we know what to avoid next time."
Samandriel thought about it for a moment and then said softly, “I didn’t mean to leave. I just...the idea of not being good enough to dance with you or be seen with you hurt a lot and it just sort of took over and I couldn’t be anything but hurt and then I was gone.” His gaze dropped again, but he didn’t move his head out of Lucifer’s line of sight. It didn’t just sort of take over, it did take over. Samandriel’s whole being was comprised of all these fractures when that dream figuratively shattered in front of him. He’d known how much he’d wanted something so simple, but he didn’t know until it might be taken away how much he’d needed it.
“I’ve been quietly preparing myself to be Seen and not Heard or only Seen in public when I’m playing and never anywhere else as anything to you and convincing myself that I could live with that.” Lucifer was right, communication was paramount here and if Samandriel weren’t making an effort, he wouldn’t have bothered saying any of that.
It was well appreciated, and Lucifer leaned over again to kiss Samandriel's forehead in small reward and thank you for the mass of words he'd finally managed.
"I wouldn't live with that," Lucifer replied gently. "You're not some kept boy who has to be seen and not heard, nor would I want you to be. You know that, don't you? I value your opinions and humor, and even attitude. And I like the idea of being able to bring you to all those events and things I have to go to. Patience, particularly around stupid people with poorly informed opinions, while necessary, is something that needs to be learned. It takes practice, that's all."
It wasn't as if at Samandriel's age Lucifer had been particularly well behaved, so it wasn't as if he didn't get it. He definitely did. At the same time, he was holding Sam at a higher standard than he did his past self.
“I’m working on it,” Samandriel promised. “It’s easier to focus if I have something to do and since food has pretty much stopped doing anything for me, just eating and talking isn’t enough.”
"What would be?" It was a fair question, considering those were generally the only two things that happened in restaurants.
“I don’t know,” Samandriel said, and hoped that it was enough. “I haven’t been here before either.” And there had to be a reason only so many would put up with him in heaven, right?
"We'll work on it," Lucifer assured. And then, because he wasn't trying to be anything more than understanding and didn't want to start things out by being pushy or overbearing, he nodded. "We can be done talking about this now, if you're ready."
“Thank you, sir,” Samandriel said, relaxing just a little. He trusted Lucifer to actually be done with it and not randomly go back when he wasn’t expecting it. His boyfriend wasn’t Dean after all. Perhaps soon they could try for something more normal, but if Samandriel wasn’t pretending to be okay then he wasn’t sure what normal actually looked like.
"You're welcome. And thank you for trying. I do appreciate it, Samandriel. You did well." Lucifer petted at the younger man's hair for a moment before tapping him on the head in some nonverbal permission for him to stand if he liked.
Samandriel unfolded and got up, stretching his wings out briefly behind him while he stretched his arms and legs. He shook them out and snapped them back onto whatever plane they existed on where most people couldn’t see them constantly.
Draining his cup, Lucifer stood as well, offering a kiss to Samandriel's forehead before taking their mugs back into the kitchen. Sometimes it was a shock how used to those wings he was, that he didn't even bring them up anymore.
"Tired?"
“Perpetually,” Samandriel answered. He looked down at his feet and asked even quieter, “May I spend the night in the other room please?” The dreams had been getting to him and he found himself full up with an increasing sense of dread for what was coming next. If he woke up screaming again, he didn’t want it to bother Lucifer.
Lucifer turned away from the sink in order to fix a thoughtful gaze on Samandriel. "You can," he said, but it came out slowly, like it wasn't quite what he wanted to agree to. "You realize I don't mind if you wake me? If you need to speak on your dreams, I would always listen."
“I know,” Samandriel said softer. “I just don’t know what there is to say. They’re just dreams. I should get over it.” And there he was, downplaying everything again.
And there Lucifer was, giving Samandriel a look, one that said he was on to that bullshit, but just wasn't going to press it tonight. "You know that isn't true," he said pointedly. "But sleep where you feel you need to."
Samandriel nodded quietly, mostly to himself, kissed Lucifer’s cheek and very purposefully let his boyfriend watch him walk up the stairs no matter that he’d much rather fly.