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It’s far from the first time Sandalphon has had wounds to keep hidden from Lucifer, and he’s sure they’re both aware of that. There’s no way Lucifer doesn’t know the nature of the tests that occur in the labs, even if he’s careful to avoid the facilities themselves. He’s never asked about how Sandalphon is treated - he knows already that there are no pleasant answers to the question - and Sandalphon has never offered that knowledge willingly.
But this is the first time Lucifer has visited that they’ve touched his face.
“Would you like some coffee, Sandalphon?” Lucifer asks, barely missing a beat in their usual conversation.
“N...not today, I think.” He tilts his head, doing whatever he can to hide the burns that mottle his cheek. Nothing would please him more, but the heat of the coffee would only make it hurt - and he would rather die than grimace in pain in Lucifer’s company, even if it has nothing to do with him.
This time Lucifer’s response comes after a significant delay, the fingers of one hand flexing absently. “I have an idea. Please join me again today...please.”
Sandalphon can’t refuse such an earnest request, so he nods hesitantly. Lucifer gives him the same gentle smile as always, and he feels his heart tighten. He knows his company can’t truly inspire such happiness, but Lucifer is so kind to give the impression that it does.
“I just need a moment. It requires asking a favor of one of the other primarchs. I will return shortly, Sandalphon.” He vanishes in a brilliant flash of light, but Sandalphon doesn’t even have enough time to miss him before he’s back, holding a small container in his hands.
“What did you need from the primarchs?” Sandalphon asks as he follows Lucifer to the secluded garden they’ve made their own.
“I apologize for not answering right away, but I would like to surprise you, Sandalphon.”
“I...of course.” The rest of their short trip is spent in silence. More than once, Sandalphon stops to adjust his clothing, pulling his hood up in an attempt to keep the burns on his face hidden from view. Every time, Lucifer stops as well, looking back with concern. Worry is wasted on someone like him, an archangel without a purpose, and Sandalphon almost wishes he wouldn’t - almost because the most selfish part of him delights in the knowledge that Lucifer cares enough to worry so in the first place.
“Take a seat, Sandalphon. Today I will prepare everything.”
He wants to object, but he can’t ever argue when Lucifer turns his gentle gaze upon him like that, so he reluctantly sits, crossing his ankles and watching him work. He is graceful in everything he does, from the way he walks to the way he delicately prepares coffee. It’s a joy beyond compare to watch the flawless, careful movements of his body, every curl of his fingers a masterpiece of art.
Lucifer glances over his shoulder, and Sandalphon averts his eyes, suddenly flustered.
The sound of unfamiliar clinking brings him out of his reverie, and he looks back at Lucifer, but true to his word, the supreme primarch is standing perfectly poised to block Sandalphon’s view of what’s happening. A thoughtful hum and a few more unfamiliar noises later, Lucifer finally turns, holding two mugs of coffee. He puts one on his side of the table, then hands the other to Sandalphon.
“This is…” He takes the cup, dumbfounded. There’s ice in it.
“I’m sure it will taste just as good cold. You were concerned about this, right…?” He reaches down to stroke Sandalphon’s cheek, delicate fingertips cool against his marred flesh. Sandalphon’s breath catches in his chest, and he stares intently at the table, willing himself not to react. “I find myself in something of a difficult position. I...understand that sacrifices must be made for the sake of research. It's something our creators have told us since the very beginning.” He brushes the carefully-adjusted hair out of Sandalphon’s face. “But to see you like this is…” He trails off, as though he’s unsure himself what exactly he wants to say. After several awkward moments of silence, he withdraws his hand. Sandalphon suppresses a whine of regret.
He sips his coffee, his face flushed with embarrassment, only to realize that’s the only sort of heat he feels. His hand flies to his cheek, finding smooth, untouched flesh where there once had been swaths of burnt tissue. The corners of Lucifer’s mouth turn up in a small smile as Sandalphon realizes what’s happened.
“Forgive me for being so forward, but I felt that nothing that could be gleaned from your pain is more valuable than your comfort, Sandalphon,” Lucifer says, as though there’s anything he needs to be forgiven for. “And...I know I can’t always help you, but if I happen to be here next time you’re hurt…”
“That’s not necessary. You already do so much for me.”
Lucifer’s expression upon hearing the response is terribly sad, and Sandalphon wonders if he’s done something wrong. But the moment passes before he can say anything, and as always, he’s happily swept up in the supreme primarch’s rhythm as he changes subjects.
“I am curious, Sandalphon. Is it good when it’s cold?”
He nods, giving a small smile that only grows when he realizes it doesn't hurt to do it anymore. "It's divine."