Work Text:
In Devildom there are three secrets that Diavolo is privy to. The first two he is absolutely never to speak of to keep the sanity of those around him, but the third is something far more important. It shadows every single thing that happens in his world. It's the secret of Lucifer’s feelings. His true ones, not the haughty pride nor his overwhelming arrogance. Those are real as well but he gives them freely to anyone he pleases, Diavolo is the only being, from the tips of the celestial realm to the pits of Devildom, to know exactly what the mighty first born has on his mind.
Lucifer has a lot of feelings about a lot of things but that is actually fairly recent. For many centuries he only had three. Grief. Guilt. And self-hatred.
The grief was obvious from anyone who knew what had happened the night of the War. The supposed loss of his dear sister and the loss of his home. The only solace being that his other siblings were safe. Diavolo refuses to tell anyone just how broken The Bright Morning Star had become. Four wings freshly blackened circled around Lilith’s bleeding body, like a shield to keep the inevitable out. His other two wings lying inanimate on the ground helped give the room the wretched stench of copper. He refuses to remember how broken his sobs sounded, how raw his pleads were. How he helplessly begged to someone who no longer cared. Seeing the Celestial Realm’s pride and joy shredded, stripped of his glory clinging to his kin, hurt something deep inside of him. Of course he had to do something to help, who in their right mind wouldn’t? Doing everything he could to make sure things could end just a little better was the least he could do, especially if it could lessen the unbearable weight of grief upon Lucifer’s shoulders.
The guilt followed the grief like a loyal dog. The guilt of damning his brothers and sister, the guilt of the Lilith situation as a whole, and the guilt of splitting the celestial realm for something that he considers pointless now. This is the part that got the Prince the most; he went as far as not deriving joy from anything. Lucifer refused to feel any happiness, rather he vowed against it, to atone for everything. He couldn’t imagine the agony that swallowed the fallen angel. Lucifer also felt eternally indebted to Diavolo and his kindness, which was ridiculous, honestly. The vow Lucifer made to him was only remembered because of how important it was to the newly turned demon. He lived and breathed for the Prince in a way that honestly scared him. About a hundred years in he started giving him ‘orders’ to go have a nap, or go take a walk and enjoy the air. It finally dawned on him that Lucifer was purposefully neglecting himself. The guilt was driving him to waste and it tore Diavolo’s heart a second time.
The self hatred was the most heartbreaking because it mixed the guilt with the grief and the anger he felt because of it into this monster that lived in Lucifer’s skin that raged a warpath in his body. Lucifer kept this facade of the perfect, merciless, prideful demon but Diavolo saw through it throughout the day when he wasn’t paying attention. He knew the nights he didn’t sleep, the bags under his eyes were dark and he couldn’t keep his attention in one place. He knew when he had been crying, the red lined lids and swollen face gave him away every time. All the prince wanted to do was lessen his pain, even if it were just for a moment. ‘Oh, I care about him.’ He realized.
That made things more difficult unfortunately, Lucifer would not react in a healthy way if he admitted his feelings. So, he set out to be the best and most supportive friend he could be. The tempest in Lucifer’s mind was now enemy number one to the prince. And year after year of hard fighting he won his first battle, Lucifer smiled.
It was a small thing really, just a quick quirk of his lips that lasted seconds. Diavolo doesn't even remember what he had said, probably something stupid if he were being honest. But it looked like light itself and the warmth he felt will remain in him forever. He got closer and closer, learning more things about Lucifer. His sadistic streak existed before the Fall. His favorite color is red. He hasn’t slept soundly in a long, long time.
He started inviting Lucifer over at night for tea. Asking Barbatos to find the most calming tea he could get his hands on, just to see if it would help. The pool of melancholy and ache that Lucifer laid his head down in at night had shallowed, and Diavolo started counting smiles.
Around smile 120 Diavolo noticed Lucifer being less callous with his brothers. Since the Fall he had kept them at an arm’s length. Afraid that he could somehow lose them if he wasn’t careful. There was playful banter, well playful if you knew how Lucifer was, with Mammon. He let Asmodeus start painting his nails. The prince was overcome with joy when he saw Lucifer ruffle Leviathan’s hair.
There were still bad days, of course. Bad weeks, even. Diavolo understood that Lucifer’s hurt was bone deep. But there was one bad day in particular that changed everything.
They had worked late that night, some documentation that needed revising and proofreading. Both exhausted, Lucifer agreed to stay in a guest bedroom of the castle. And in the small hours of the morning Diavolo was woken by the sound of footsteps echoing through the halls. Throwing on his robe he cracks his door, Lucifer’s silhouette falls into view walking down the hall with a hand carding through his hair. He was in the pajamas that he had borrowed from Diavolo, barefoot.
The prince calls his name and he stiffens from head to toe. He begins to apologize immediately, of course. But Diavolo is having none of it, walking to the fallen angel he sees the anguish across his face, cheeks tear stained and hands shaking. He doesn’t know how many more times he can take seeing him like this. Upset, alone.
“Lucifer please, talk to me, I cannot bear seeing you in pain.” He nodded, and Diavolo led him to his room. Sat upon the prince’s bed Lucifer spilled his emotions across silk sheets. Confirming everything that Diavolo already knew. The hurt, pain, nightmares, and memories that tormented him laid out like dinnerware in the bedchambers. The Morning Star fell apart, vulnerable and showed him the parts of his heart that were pierced with thorns and wounds that were festering. Telling him that some days he felt that all he can be is sharpened teeth, and other days just a pair of shaking hands. The guilt was so heavy that he couldn’t breathe at night. All he could do was lay in bed and wheeze under its weight.
Something snapped in Diavolo. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, he grabbed the sobbing fallen angel and pulled him to his chest. The surprised yelp from the mess of tears was a welcomed change. After stiffening from shock, Lucifer melted into his arms. He began to cry again but it felt different this time, Diavolo was the first being since the Great Celestial War to see relief wash over Lucifer’s face.
He doesn’t know how long they stayed like that. Hours probably, still there even after his tears had dried, all Diavolo cared about now was the rise and fall of Lucifer’s chest as he lay sleeping in his arms. The prince is sure his legs were asleep and he was going to have a crick in his neck tomorrow but he will be damned if he lets go of his precious cargo. All he knew was that this was trust incarnate, and he needed to be handled with kids gloves. Eventually he drifted off, sitting upright, clutching Lucifer. But in the afternoon when he awoke, he was alone. No sign of Lucifer other than a blanket draped over the prince that had not been there the night before.
Lucifer avoided him for a week.
Diavolo realized he probably crossed a line, or maybe Lucifer fell back into his unfortunate cycle of guilt, grief, and self loathing. He was scared that maybe he pushed too hard, so he just kept Lucifer at his usual friendly distance. Supporting him from the sidelines as best he could. They fell back comfortably after a few months like it never happened; they would have tea, work on things, occasionally shoot shit with one another. The bad days had plateaued, the prince saw how the days still wore on him, but he seemed more guarded; more aware that Diavolo knew. He could see how it conflicted him. There was a small battle had in Lucifer’s skin after every tired sigh. The fallen angel would look to the prince, look away quickly, and furrow his brow. Irritated with his own thought process, his mood took a dive for the rest of the day.
R.A.D had finally been established around smile 974. All of the long hours done and confusing legalese signed, they celebrated with a party which left the demon brothers drunken and draped across furniture. It had been a blast and Diavolo was looking forward to a new era of Devildom. He tripped over bodies and swayed his way back to his room; thankfully finding the right door on the first try. To be honest, he wishes he could do this everyday. He had spent many years isolated, he knew the familiar shape of loneliness and the taste of bitterness it left in his mouth. But the way Lucifer had laughed that night made his heart do backflips in his chest. His chest that used to feel cold and hollow, like an underwater cave became a home for everything Lucifer did. Sliding into his sheets there was a knock at his door. He called for them to come in, expecting Barbatos. His heart jumped to his throat as Lucifer came into view.
To be honest he looked like a frightened animal; ready to flee at a moment's notice. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, as if at a loss for what to say. His brow goes into its signature furrow.
“I’m sorry, this was a mistake-”
“No, please don’t go.” Diavolo barely believed what was coming out of his mouth but the fallen angel was frozen in place. The sheets tossed off as he reached for his robe; it was a little awkward as Lucifer clears his throat and looks away, giving the prince the illusion of privacy. Diavolo gets up and takes a seat at the bottom of his bed and pats the bed beside him as an invitation. “Please, talk to me.”
“I-” He clears his throat again. “I came to wish you a good night.” He bows respectfully and starts to pivot towards the door.
“Liar.” Barely a whisper, but enough for the other man to hear him. He sees the jolt go straight through him, stopping him from leaving. “Please Lucifer, I am here for you.” The facade drops visibly, even if his back is still turned.
“I cannot sleep.” He confesses it quietly, like someone might be listening right outside of the door. Diavolo just pats the same spot he did before and slowly the fallen angel makes his way to the prince.
They talk about nothing at first, just their success with R.A.D and plans for the future. But, Diavolo mentions the exhaustion that is prominent across his features. He sees Lucifer bite back a compulsive excuse, not wanting to worry him, swallowing his all mighty pride to confide. He proceeds to talk about his struggles; battling back his overwhelming sadness and grief, suffering when he finds his happy moments laced with guilt. Explains that every nightmare is a tornado that shreds the soft cavity of his chest, happening every night except- he stops, looking shocked at his own mouth.
“Except what?” He clams up immediately and goes pink up to his ears. Oh, it clicks.
“You can stay here tonight, I would not mind.” Lucifer starts spouting off that he is fine and he would rather die than inconvenience the prince in any fashion, he was already indebted to him for eternity. Diavolo raises his hand signaling Lucifer to shut up. He does so, very quickly. The prince gets up without another word and walks over to the side of his bed; pulling his covers back. He thinks for a moment about his robe but decides to keep it on for modesty’s sake. He climbs in and motions with his head to come on and get in; he sees Lucifer argue with himself for a moment or two before sighing and making his way to the other side of the bed. Settling in and blowing out the candle that served as their light source. It was soothing to listen to the other man’s breathing as he fell asleep, something that Diavolo decides he could get used to very quickly as he drifts to sleep.
Groggily he becomes aware of noises. Panicked panting makes his eyes snap open. When his eyes adjust to the darkness he sees Lucifer sitting up with his hands in his hair. Diavolo doesn’t really think, Lucifer would say he rarely does, but he just reaches out and grabs the fallen angel and pulls him to the safety of his chest. Breathing slows and plateaus; calm.
“This is okay, right?” The young demon lord sounds unsure of himself. Feeling a nod from the important creature in his hands was all he needed to relax. Within the fortress of his arms he vowed to himself that no harm would come to his Morning Star ever again if he could help it. Oh. His Morning Star. He thanks Barbatos silently for breaking the habit of saying his thoughts out loud.
He really tries to get back to sleep; he swears. But he cannot tear his eyes away from the beautiful scene in his arms. Mentally burning the image in his brain. The first time this happened he was too wrapped up in making sure Lucifer was okay to register anything but his safety. But now? He traces every curl that falls on his face with his eyes. The darkness isn’t doing him any favors but he will take whatever his eyes can make out. Diavolo tries to recall the word that the angels used often; holy? He understands it is supposed to be his antithesis but without a concept of it he decides it means perfect, sacred, important. Lucifer. He thinks he begins to understand worship too. He already knew devotion but it felt like a different word all together when paired with the fallen angel. Adoration is easy. He felt himself start to drift again, finally. He knows morning is almost upon them and Lucifer will most likely disappear from his embrace, so he makes a whisper soft plea.
“Don’t leave me in the morning, please.”
With Diavolo half asleep he didn’t notice the man in his grasp stir gently. Eyes opening slowly at first then going wide; having heard the prince’s request. Lucifer works it over in his mind, scared first of course, he doesn't want to drag anyone else down with him. But with the warmth he found in his chest he made his decision. Who is he to deny Diavolo, especially since he asked so nicely, and falls back asleep.
Morning came and left; the afternoon’s light has found its way to Diavolo’s eyes and he groans, tired. Stretching out he finds a body, recollection smacks him across the face and his eyes open, searching. He finds exactly what he expects. Lucifer; asleep. Peace across his features and hair messy from sleep. Angel, Diavolo’s brain supplies. Perfect demon, his brain corrects. His, he wants to add. But doesnt.
Dark lashes flutter and a well known furrow takes its rightful place upon the mighty first born’s brow. Their eyes meet and hold each other's gazes until they both realize their embarrassment and look away from one another. The prince is all nervous energy and buzzing with a high that he believes is pure elation. Looking to the man beside him he sees a conversation. One that he is not privy to. It's between Lucifer and himself, he knows the look of nervousness on the fallen angel’s face and if Diavolo is being honest it's not one of his favorites. Too close to fear. He begins to open his mouth to speak before he is interrupted.
“What are we, Dia?” He wants to say ‘anything you want’ or ‘anything you need us to be’. He settles for something with a bit more tact.
“What would you like us to be?” It’s open ended on purpose. He knows his feelings but understands that Lucifer has dealt with so much and fears his feelings might mess up everything. He sees the fallen angel chew his lip in concentration. “You have spent far too many centuries following my whims.”
“Your whims got me out of bed each morning!” he shouts; almost angry. “Sure, they were a bit asinine sometimes but I needed that, I think.” Lucifer huffs. “You are my best friend, and I owe you my life for saving my sister and homing me and my displaced brothers.” A beat of silence as the fallen angel looks to be building up courage. “I think I love you.” It's quiet and rushed out of his mouth quickly. “I’m not sure though, all of my emotions feel different now since I Fell. It feels similar though... just less pure.” He turns his face away from the prince but he can see his ears are pink.
Diavolo’s chest is tight and he can hear his blood pulsing in his ears. He was flabbergasted; but even if he wanted to say something he couldn’t; he was hung on Lucifer’s every word.
“You have done so much for me, I often wondered why you would keep your attention on such a dilapidated fallen angel-” The prince opened his mouth to retort but Lucifer shot him a look. “Don’t interrupt me.” He clipped. It almost made Diavolo laugh out right. Even in the middle of a love confession Lucifer would still scold you for being rude.
“I figured you could see through my horrid fractals of emotion and saw something in me of importance. But you just kept caring, even after I started to have a semblance of normal life. It confused me to no end. When you look at me it feels like Spring in my chest; I haven’t felt Spring in so long and now I feel it all the time. And that!” He points to the prince’s face. “That stupid smile! It drives me insane!” Another angry huff. “I don’t know what I want us to be but I do know that I need it to be something. Sleeping dreamlessly in your arms is a paradise I didn't know existed until that first night, but since then it's been the only thing I can think about and it's scary.” He trails off, distracted by Diavolo closing the distance between them; face to face.
“Well, how about this. We can be something, but I would like to be yours until you figure out what you want, if you would let me.” Gold eyes meet red in an intense gaze.
“Why in the three realms would you want to be mine?” Lucifer sounds disbelieving.
“You are the only being here or above who can handle me and my ‘asinine whims’.” The prince watches as Lucifer preens from his ego being stroked. “And because it would make me happy.”
“Even with my volatile moods and sleepless nights?” Divaolo scoffed as if it were absurd to even think that would change anything. He wanted everything.
“Of course!” A pale hand finds its way to the prince’s jaw stopping Diavolo in his tracks. A thumb softly rubs his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes are dark and intense; it makes Diavolo shiver.
“Then, how could I refuse?” Smile number 993; his favorite smile to date. Not a moment later Lucifer brings their faces together for a kiss. His lips feel like home if home meant something different than a lonely castle. Like light through windows and fresh cups of tea. Pulling away Diavolo feels a dizzying breathlessness.
“I am willing to be yours too.” His Morning Star gets out of bed and walks toward the door. “If, you can learn to behave.” A sadistic grin spread across his face as he exited the room, what a tease. Diavolo lays back on his bed almost in disbelief. His heart is so full of adoration and love- wait, he forgot to tell him that he loves him too. Jumping out of bed he makes a b-line for Lucifer, almost tackling him. He tells him many, many, times. He also tells him about an idea he had yesterday; about having an exchange program.