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Satan’s taunt still rang in his ears, “Golf is a good walk spoiled.” The thought of the younger demon’s sass, particularly on today of all days, had Lucifer scowling fiercely at the ball on its tee. It seemed to have been a possible curse, with how everything was playing out.
It had been fine when the Avatar of Pride had stepped out. The weather had been ideal, his mood had been fair...and then Satan had popped his head out of the window with that wicked little smile of his, “Lucifer - I just came across a new saying. ‘Golf is a good walk spoiled’. Sounds about right, doesn’t it?” He had tried to hold his snarl until the blond had snapped the window shut again. He had been certain that none of his brothers were aware of his little hobby...but Satan had successfully planted a seed of doubt in his mind.
And now he couldn’t even get this shot.
What should have been a straightforward and clear drive of his ball now had him circling the hole, trying to ease the stupid round of plastic into the damnable pot with silly little putts. It was beneath him. Lucifer was easily capable of holes in one, he was a scratch golfer...so why was he stuck here, putting about like some airheaded amateur?
His intense focus on the impertinent ball meant that the Avatar of Pride missed that the sky was becoming heavy with dark clouds…
Once he was finally able to move on to the next hole, pretending as if he hadn’t a care in the world (because that’s what these golf outings were for - shorts lapses of actual relaxation), he was certain that things would only get better.
Alas, they did not.
The last time he had played this badly was when he had been taught by Nicnevin herself - and that had been far more forgivable, considering that it would have been an embarrassment to defeat a royal in a sport of their homeland. And taking into account how fond the fae folk were of their tricks, Lucifer had been rather convinced that his bad luck had been at least partially due to her giggling consorts.
He shook the memory from his mind. There was no point dwelling on the past. But then he drove his ball directly into the pit of quicksand and watched as it sank.
Then his second-favourite club had slipped from his grip and was lost to the lake due to an aggressive swing.
Then on the next hit, his new ball went to join said club in the lake. As it bobbed along, he contemplated going to pluck it from the waters - only to watch as the bakunawa’s head swiftly poked up through the surface to eat it.
The Avatar of Pride hoped that it choked on the white plastic...or at least gave it some bad indigestion.
He hadn’t even made it to hole seven when the rain started. First a droplet on the nose, then enough to feel in his hair. Garnet eyes turned up to the sky, disbelieving. The weather had been perfect. The weather forecast promised it’d be perfect. All. Day. Long.
Lucifer was going to murder Ala, the Devildom’s weather presenter, when he found her.
With that, he trudged to his cart. There was no point trying to play if a storm was incoming. The demon was well and truly fuming. Today of all days had to go wrong, didn’t it? His forehead rested against the steering wheel as he took a moment to breathe as an attempt to soothe himself. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Lucifer would drive back to the clubhouse, drop the cart, change back to his normal clothes, and make his way back to the House of Lamentation where he would partake in his favourite bottle of demonus and listen to a new record he had bought especially for the occasion. Once calmer, he turned the key in the ignition.
The battery had died.
Rather than try to drag it to the clubhouse, Lucifer decided to trudge back on foot (which did little to improve his soured mood). Later that evening, the staff would come to retrieve it...only to find that the enraged demon had decided to take his frustration out on the cart itself. With his heaviest iron, of all things.
By the time the Avatar of Pride was at the front door of the House of Lamentation, his temper had simmered to a mere frustration. The gentle itch of irritation was nothing new and so he was certain that his brothers would leave him to his brooding up in his study.
So the fanfare that greeted him when he opened the door came as a true surprise.
The gaggle of demon brothers would be in tears of laughter over the picture of Lucifer’s expression later that evening. Never in all of their millenia together had his brothers actually thrown a surprise celebration for him - and so he stood there in confetti and shrouded in shock. Not that he would ever admit it outloud.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The chorus was lined with laughter and Lucifer’s expert frown was far softer than usual.
His brothers were quick to usher him in (it may have been due to Beel’s drooling...it was not unusual to have unsightly puddles about when the Avatar of Gluttony was holding back). Somehow they had pulled it off - Lucifer’s favourites were dotted around everywhere and they’d somehow managed to pick a decent record to put on in the background.
The birthday demon was pleasantly surprised. His brothers were surprisingly delightful company (even Satan wasn’t as bad as usual) and they ensured that his glass was never empty.
After some time, it was Asmodeus who asked: “So, Luci, where were you this afternoon? We thought that you were going to be up in your study all day?”
Later, he would blame it on the demonus and how generous his brothers had been when pouring. Because without a second thought he replied, “I was playing golf.”
If he’d been even slightly less drunk, he wouldn’t have let his secret hobby slip. Alas, despite it being his birthday it would seem that luck was not on Lucifer’s side as his brothers stared.
“Golf?”
“Oh wow.”
“Pffftt, that’s such an old man game lol”
The Avatar of Pride scoffed, “That’s only because you haven’t actually tried to play it. It’s a very good sport, I’ll have you know.” That caused a ripple of laughter from the other demons, which displeased Lucifer. His face was indignant, but it didn’t carry any of its usual amount of threat, “I’ll show you, then. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to play.”
And that is what sealed the eldest brother’s fate. The following day ended up being a...family outing, of some description. Due to the fact that there was no one around, it seemed like it might even go smoothly (or as smoothly as any family outing could go).
Unsurprisingly, Asmodeus was the cheerleader and ‘official photographer’ out of the seven (although they all knew that he was taking more selfies than notes). Belphegor slept in one of the carts as no one seemed to have the heart to wake him, Mammon had set himself up in competition with Beel (who kept apologising for hitting the ball too hard and subsequently losing them), Satan also seemed determined to win an imaginary competition with Lucifer (“Woooow,” the Avatar of Wrath said while watching a shot go awry through his binoculars, “What a terrible shot...” and Lucifer had half a mind to hit him with the club) while Leviathan kept trying to sneak off in the direction of the bakunawa.
As the day passed, Lucifer even found himself enjoying it all. He was actually pleased to be able to share in the pastime with the people he cared for most and to give them some new knowledge (but he was certain that Mammon was trying to figure out how he could best exploit it financially). Although it was something that he had preferred to keep to himself, it wasn’t so bad sharing it with his brothers.
And besides, it’s not like he’d ever do something stupid like get himself on the cover of Devil Sports or anything like that. No, that would be thanks to the meddling of Asmodeus and his D.D.D., which Lucifer would subsequently confiscate when he saw the cover of the magazine.