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Nine months. To the day.
This is how long since he’d been cursed to a mortal existence.
He sat at the dining room table, staring blankly at the tiny squares spread out across what he had learned was a calendar pinned into the wall. Time was different. Slow. Before, years on Earth felt like mere moments in Hell. Now it was as if he felt every sixty seconds in every minute, every minute in every hour, and it was tortuous. What did humans do with all this time? Waste away this planet, that was what. Boredom must’ve driven them to leave his Father’s creation in wrack and ruin.
“Won’t make days go by any faster,” a voice wandered over from the living room. “Are you waiting for something?”
The sigh was automatic, slow and deliberate, quiet as the air escaped him. He finally blinked, turning his head to watch Nick with the mug of coffee held to his lips. Lucifer himself was leaning back in one of the dining chairs, arms crossed; he didn’t show any amusement. “For this to be over already.”
“In one of those moods today?”
“Mood? What moods?” he countered, face made as he pushed himself out of his seat. “Maybe it’s lack of sleep. Give it.” He motioned with beckoning fingers as he made his way to Nick, promptly taking the mug straight from his hand.
“Hey—“
Lucifer quickly shook his head. “Shhh,” he silenced, taking the mug to his own lips, downing half of the warm, bitter drink before he politely handed it back to Nick. “Thank you.”
Nick gazed into his emptied mug with a vague look of annoyance, but his expression was quick to soften when he saw Lucifer collapse onto the couch, arms spread across its back, legs lifting up to cross themselves on top of the coffee table. His head tilted back to rest between his arms, eyes closing as he exhaled another low breath. Nick knew the Lucifer was exhausted. He’d barely slept the last several nights, seeming to suffer from constant nightmares.
Nick would know. As soon as he heard the other start to yell, occasionally muffled into the pillows and usually inarticulate, he dragged himself from the couch and into the bedroom. He left him be in the beginning, after being told several times that he shouldn’t be care taking, but after months of the same, Nick discovered he was of more help than Lucifer would ever admit to.
It was his name he heard more often than not, and it was a constant mystery as to why.
But there had been one night, one he’d say he must’ve been half-asleep for, but for reasons inexplicable he had climbed into bed with Lucifer, in the space that used to be his own— before his family. Lucifer tossed and turned in the space beside him, the one he always took, and again Nick acted with little sense. He scooted himself closer, hand coming up to the other’s hair, thumb stroking his forehead in comfort, words leaving him before he even knew they were coming, “It’s okay.. everything’s okay now. I’m right here..”
Lucifer didn’t wake, but his movements seemed to grow less restless at the sound of the man’s voice. His eyebrows had furrowed as if disturbed by something beyond this reality, but Nick kept up his soothing stroking, hand pushing back tousled, damp strands of hair. “See? I’m here. Nothing to be afraid of,” he continued, going with what seemed to calm Lucifer. And it did further, his expression relaxing, breathing evening out as an arm stretched to his side, toward Nick. He wasn’t far from the other’s side; the hand pushed into his chest, and he used his free hand to grab it, bending the other’s arm as fingers curled into Lucifer’s own.
He was still so tired. Dark surrounded them and it had been a long while since slipping into his old bed. It was far more comfortable, more welcoming than he remembered. Nick felt his lids slipping closed, but fought against it as he watched Lucifer slip into a what looked to be a more restful sleep. His arm pulled away from the other’s hair, thoughtlessly settling over the other’s chest. His eyes had shut, sleep taking him a second time, his mind unaware he’d even moved from his usual makeshift bed in the other room.
Nick woke up turned around, groggy and confused as he realized he wasn’t where he was before. He felt a heavy warmth not usual for the morning, and it was with hazy realization he glanced down to see an arm wrapped snugly around his middle, one that had him just as snug against another body. Lucifer had him close, and it was with a some shock that he processed the other had essentially made him the little spoon. Nick’s heart jumped at first, but there was a steady rise and fall he could feel against his back, and warm, slow breaths ghosting over his neck. The other was still fast asleep.
It was with a carefulness he lifted the other’s arm from around him, slipping away with his heart beating rapidly, a flurry of nerves filling him from the inside. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting with such quickness, but he felt, somehow, that Lucifer would not like waking up the way they were, that he had no idea how close he’d come in the middle of the night.
Nick wasn’t even supposed to be here. Soundlessly he left the room, back to the couch, but it was impossible to sleep any longer. Not with the thoughts in his mind.
To think the Devil would be unsettled by unconscious imaginings. That he would gravitate toward another, whether aware or not.
But ever since then, Nick returned in the same way to comfort Lucifer during his restless nights, unable to resist, unable to simply leave him there. Every night was the same, except Nick now knew exactly what it was he was doing, exactly what he was daring to do. And every morning he woke up with the same Devil wrapped around him, unaware as he slipped away to begin the day, allowing Lucifer any remaining hours he needed.
So yes, Nick had an idea of how exhausted Lucifer was. It happened almost every night, and he had no idea of the toll any of these nightmares took. He was content knowing he could provide the other with some calm, but he knew it couldn’t cure the time before, all the time spent tormented by his own mind before it managed to jerk Nick from his own slumbering.
Nick always wondered if Lucifer knew of anything that went on, if he could feel Nick beside him, or if he’d ever woken up before him in the morning, but the other showed no signs whatsoever. He remained as distant as he normally did when awake.
But seeing Lucifer sprawled back on the couch, looking so weary— it had him itching to come close. Nick quickly focused his stare back upon his coffee, the sudden compulsion worrying him, making him wonder why it was he developed such a fondness for the other’s proximity.
He knew it couldn’t end well if Lucifer ever found out.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Lucifer muttered, head unmoving and eyes still closed.
Nick could feel himself foolishly blushing. “..I’m thinking about how I have to make another pot now.”
“You need this long to decide? Just go and make one.”
“You should be the one to make it. You nearly drank all of mine.”
“You didn’t stop me.”
A yawn escaped Lucifer, and it was still an odd action to witness, even after all the months sharing space with his now very human self.
“You’re still tired?” Nick asked, watching him again.
There was more direct acknowledgment that time, one eye opening to peer at Nick. “Yes, did I not say that before? That I’m not getting enough sleep?”
“Would anything help you sleep?” What was he doing?
Lucifer was unusually quiet for a number of seconds. “..No, nothing that you could possibly help with.” His eye had closed again, his legs leaving the table to make home on the floor.
Nick simply nodded, carelessly accepting, but he was having a hard time holding back a slight smile, finding too much amusement in the idea that he knew enough to prove Lucifer false. He lifted the mug to his face and took a sip of what remained. “That’s too bad. I was hoping there was something,” he chose to say, tone quieter as he finally forced back the smile.
“Why so intent to help me sleep, Nick?”
“No reason.” Nick finished off the coffee, trying not to think of the night, of all the things he could bring to light while having no courage to do so. All he wanted was to see if Lucifer would let him near. Awake this time.
“I sleep best during the second half,” Lucifer randomly shared, “If luck would grant me that half for the entirety of the night, then maybe there would finally be hope.”
“Second half?” Nick questioned, a curious rise of eyebrows. He’d taken a few steps closer to the couch, and Lucifer seemed to have sensed enough to open his eyes, stare steady on Nick.
“I feel more at peace,” Lucifer answered slowly, appearing distracted and wary of Nick’s approach, “..The morning always did treat me better.”
“Think a movie might help lull you into napping? A nap could help, you know. I keep suggesting, but you never take my advice.” Nick risked it, dropping himself onto the couch right beside Lucifer, feeling the arm behind him, still stretched across the couch. He felt limbs brush against the other as he settled there, as if it were a position they were both used to. He could feel Lucifer tense.
“Another movie? Haven’t we watched your collection enough? I have dialogue that should never have been written stuck in my head, all due to your insistence.”
“I’ve seen you laugh enough times to know you like some of it.” Acting as if he wasn’t even conscious of it, Nick scooted even closer, there hardly being room left in the first place.
“Sure it wasn’t me trying to keep from getting sick?” Lucifer queried, even more still, voice an odd amount softer. “Is there some reason you’re cozying up with me?”
Nick was about to respond, but was interrupted by the feeling of fingers playing at the back of his neck. It took him a moment, surprised that it would be touch Lucifer went for, rather than, well— anything else. But Nick had already delved into some strange state of mischief in the last few moments, and he swallowed back the smile as well as the jump to his heart.
“Right, I forgot to start the pot,” he suddenly stated, purposely ignoring the question as he quickly hoisted himself up from the couch. He glimpsed what he thought was disappointment on the other’s face, but it was only there for a split second, Lucifer’s arms lowering to cross over his chest as they often did.
“Well. Don’t let me keep you.”