Who: Lucifer Morningstar and Samandriel What: Lucifer’s back. Samandriel is exhausted. When: 01/1 Where: Their place Rating: High for... implied...uh. Status: Complete
It’d been days of hell. That wasn’t an exaggeration. Samandriel had been to hell. He’d lived through what demons could do...sort of. The Lucifer he had loved once in his old life was very much gone, lost to whatever the cage had done to him. Perhaps Heaven keeping him out of the first big round of Winchester madness was more a blessing than anything. He was exhausted Grace deep. Woozy. Broken.
He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to keep the archangel from realizing he was real and actually unleashing the apocalypse on the world. Fortunately, Lucifer seemed content to sit on the counter and verbally objectify him (gratuitously and explicitly) while he took a shower. Getting clean was about the only peace Samandriel got. The thing was insatiable. Like it was convinced that all Samandriel wanted out of life was rough, bordering on abusive sex and that he should be grateful for it.
He was beginning to realize first hand what everyone had gone through when his own imposter had shown up.
The water turned to steaming blood, a smell that Samandriel couldn’t get out of his nostrils or throat. “Will you stop!” he shouted and just like that the water was normal again. Samandriel spared a thought for getting his now crimson body cleaned (senses included, because wow that was not appreciated) and pulled open the shower door to yell at him some more. “What the hell is wrong with you? That isn’t how you-” He cut himself off, because there where one archangel had been, a different one sat.
The young angel’s lips parted, and he found himself grinning slowly in disbelief. “Lucifer,” he said softly, feeling the whole of him brighten in the face of the right archangel. The shower was turned off with a gesture and Samandriel didn’t even spare the energy to walk the few feet over to him. He merely was there, dripping wet and not caring at all as he took his fiancé’s face in his hands. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.”
It actually took Lucifer a moment to realize he was back some place where people would actually recognize and listen to him as a person who was a) not hallucinated and b) not completely off the rails, apparently.
Following Sam Winchester around for two days straight had been one of the worst experiences of his life, and that was before the abundance of plaid and low class t-shirts were even introduced onto the subject. Apparently the Lucifer of their world was a far different beast who used all the worst tricks to get attention. Attempting to explain his situation to Sam Winchester… hadn't gone any further than attempt.
"Samandriel," Lucifer said, not even a little embarrassed at the joy and surprise in his own voice. He covered those hands with his own, leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "You have no idea how good it is to be seen."
Samandriel closed his eyes, spreading his wings in pure joy for the first time in days as he encircled the other angel as best he could. “Were you where he was from?” he asked, not pulling away, just reveling in the tenderness of the moment. He was never, ever going to ask for pain from Lucifer again. Not when he knew from experience how swiftly and ruthlessly it could be given even to him.
“That would explain why he seemed constantly impressed and smug about how well Imagination worked.” Oh but Lucifer. Lucifer. His. Samandriel couldn’t keep from kissing him, his lips his nose, his cheeks, everything he could reach.
Lucifer was just as happy to kiss back -- any little spot of skin he could land his lips on. Fingers trailed through too-wet hair, just relishing anything and everything. "Mm," he agreed between kisses, or maybe during. "Your world." He'd known for some time that that world wasn't his -- but he really believed it now, because there was no way he fit into that. It just wasn't possible.
"I've never seen so much plaid in my life," he said, because -- well. That was a light subject, and knowing them it wouldn't stay that way.
“I know,” Samandriel whispered, working as quickly as he could to get the clothes Lucifer had on off, to make absolutely certain of every inch of the other man. He needed to be sure Lucifer was safe, no matter that he could feel down to his very core that he was.
“Winchesters. Sam, in particular has a plaid fetish bordering on the obscene in that life.” He pulled away to look at his future husband’s face. “I knew the moment he got here that he wasn’t you. That it was him. He felt too different and he has more wings than you will. I think. I’m guessing here.” It didn’t matter that Samandriel was guessing, the fact remained. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
"Me too," Lucifer muttered, shrugging out of his shirt and letting it pool behind him on the bathroom counter. Why he was sitting on the counter was a little behind him, but he certainly wasn't going to complain currently. "I'm not a terribly egotistical man, but being acknowledged at all is … ideal."
Sam Winchester had ignoring him down to an art, no matter how logical Lucifer had tried being, and what he'd attempted explaining.
He touched Samandriel's cheek. "Tell me," he said, because he needed to know what that other man had done. Evil twins weren't exactly a new topic for them.
Samandriel let out a slow breath, eyes falling shut again as he ducked his head. “It’s nothing I haven’t lived through before,” he whispered. But that wouldn’t ever be good enough for his Lucifer, the one who wanted nothing more than to treasure and care for him. He lifted his gaze to look at him again, needing to be strong for both of them.
“If I hadn’t thrown myself in front of the archangel bus, he would have figured out that he wasn’t just in my head and gone after the whole of the city.” If not more than that. Samandriel might not have had any love for Sam Winchester, but he had a great deal for Dean and Castiel, and protecting them was more than enough of a reason for his own pain.
He reached up to touch his lover’s face, mapping out lines and contours he thought he might never see like this again. “He was cruel and angry, and because he was convinced that he existed only in my head, thought that I actually wanted all he was giving to me.” It had been much less traumatic to quite literally fuck himself. He offered Lucifer an exhausted half smile. “There are a few of your things I’m going to have to incinerate later, and I’m sorry, but I need to.” A particular belt and pair of ties topped the list. He didn’t think Lucifer would mind too terribly. After all, Samandriel meant more to him than things. Things were just things. They could be replaced easily. The pair of them had learned the value of each other the unnecessarily hard way.
While it was nice that Samandriel considered the whole of the city and probably more, Lucifer really did have to wonder about all that self sacrifice. Where had it possibly come from? Who had cultivated that strange little quirk?
He shook his head, lessened the space between them again and offered Samandriel a kiss that was only soft, barely a real touch. "Do what you need to, of course. I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you." Again.
The answer was surprisingly not the Winchesters and entirely his mother. Samandriel had learned to shove his own desires away for his whole life in this world, had learned how to keep quiet and stand tall to be a rock for everyone else when all he wanted to do was crumple. It was only Lucifer who was teaching him how to bend and not break, who served as an anchor he could rely on to make it through anything with him. Even if they were both drowning. Lucifer didn’t expect him to be any more or any less than exactly what he was.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured, using his wings to get Lucifer with him into the angelically cleaned bed. “I’m just glad you’re here now. That you’re in one piece and I can have you in my arms again properly.”
"I know," Lucifer said -- because he knew it wasn't his fault. It didn't mean he wasn't without his own little complex of guilt. He wouldn't fit in with the rest of their group if he didn't have a few flaws of his own, after all. He was sorry that Samandriel constantly had to deal with such hardships that Lucifer was never there to help with - his fault or otherwise. Sorrier yet, that this last one had been wearing his face.
"You're tired," he said instead of carrying on about it. "Take some time to relax."
“I just…” Samandriel hesitated but finally managed, “I just want to look at you for a while.” He ran his fingers over as much of Lucifer as he could reach - not at all sexual, just...remembering. It was a lot like the way Lucifer looked at him when he’d been afraid they’d never be together again. He pressed their foreheads together lightly, willing the lights off and the curtains drawn so he could feel more than he saw. “I don’t think you have to ever worry about me wanting pain again.” Not like that. Not from Lucifer. He couldn’t. Just like Lucifer couldn’t give it to him.
It wasn't even relieving to hear that -- there was absolutely no way to take that as a good thing - not when he knew his own face and body had given something to Samandriel that he didn't want. Even if he could clearly know and understand the differences between that Lucifer and him -- it still wasn't right. There was still some association.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, tone too low. He knew it wasn't what Samandriel wanted to hear, but he was going to say it anyway. Samandriel deserved to know. Deserved the tenderness of his tone and his touch.
Samandriel had been holding together as well as he could through so much hurt. He’d managed to just jam everything as deep as possible from the moment his own double attempted to utterly destroy his life. Now, it took only two words to bring everything crashing down on him. Tucked up against Lucifer, Samandriel finally allowed himself to cry. To weep. To just stay as close as he could and allow himself to hurt, to believe he had a right to hurt, and to trust that Lucifer would be there for him in whatever way he needed. “I love you,” he whispered, voice broken and not caring that his pain was so very obvious.
Lucifer didn't comment on the tears or even try to shush them or make them stop. Sometimes, he knew, a good cry could really help in a lot of different ways. Samandriel deserved to be allowed his tears -- and so Lucifer only pulled the younger man closer until he could rest his chin atop the angel's head and then held him tightly. "I know," he murmured soothingly. "And I'm here."
“Never leave,” Samandriel said softly, hands on Lucifer’s bare chest. “Not if you can help it. Please.” Things only seemed to go more wrong when they were separated. It wasn’t as codependent as the Winchesters, but there were moments when Samandriel knew they came close.
"I wouldn't," Lucifer said, rubbing easy little circles onto the small of Samandriel's back. "Not you. Not if I can help it." It was as good as a promise coming from Lucifer. This city was getting ridiculous, but Lucifer was rather feeling like he could avoid it through sheer willpower alone after this last mess. Not again. Never again.
"Sleep for a while," he told his angel. "I'll be here still."
Samandriel could do nothing but trust the man he loved with all his being. So he slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted, and somehow managed to find peace tucked there against a man who felt and smelled and just was right.