Chapter Text
If you're not reading this on AO3 it has been stolen.
At the age of eight Samael wakes up one morning with a very fancy looking S inked into his collarbone. It’s the kind of lettering Samael wanted for his tattoo, like something right out of a medieval book. He shows Raphael, who complains at the top of his voice (and with absolutely no trace whatsoever of envy) about how little he cares. He shows Michael, who rolls his eyes and says tattoos are dumb but at least Samael had managed to avoid getting a tramp stamp like Gabriel. He shows Gabriel, who makes fun of Samael for not getting a tramp stamp like him. Not that the little brat actually knows what that means. Samael is just pleased he and his soulmate are going to be alliterative. He likes alliterative couples. They sound very tidy.
A year later, Samael catches sight in the bathroom mirror of a spidery a next to his fancy S. He squints at it suspiciously. Sam is a common name after all. For both genders. A very common name.
He decides not to tell Michael, who at the age of thirteen still hasn't found a single letter.
He doesn't tell Gabriel either, only because his youngest brother has become extremely secretive about his own tattoo ever since finding out what a tramp stamp is. The kid never comes out of the bathroom without three layers of shirts on anymore.
Raphael simply huffs under his breath and goes back to his dumb show when Samael tries to show off his letter.
His brothers are such bitches.
The day after an m writes itself on his skin eleven year old Samael simply declares that his name is now Lucifer; ignoring the general confusion this causes and Michael’s snide remarks that two people called Sam are going to have a hard enough time finding each other already without one of them using a pseudonym all the time.
All that Lucifer ever says on the topic is that one of them will have to go by a different name anyway to avoid confusion and it makes perfect sense for him to want to get used to replying to something else.
Gabriel thinks Lucifer just likes being contrary; or perhaps that he likes making things unnecessarily difficult for himself.
Raphael rolls his eyes so hard Lucifer can hear him.
Upon the arrival of the u Lucifer feels a mix of relief and annoyance.
It would have been really frustrating if their given names were spelled exactly the same, no matter what Lucifer calls himself. But Samuel is a ridiculously common name. Seriously, there are like twelve Samuels just at Lucifer’s school. Surely their parents remember the frustration of hearing the right name, only to realize it’s the wrong person. Surely. Unless his Sam has parents named Andromeda Phoenix and Lancelot Beauregard and they thought it would be better to spare their child that fate.
The e appears right around the time of Lucifer’s fifteenth birthday. Staring in the mirror, he decides to make a serious effort at finding Samuel this year. After all, two of his brothers don’t seem to have soulmates at all and if Lucifer wastes this chance they- or Michael at least- will probably never forgive him (Raphael might have the opposite reaction and never forgive him for finding his soulmate but that kid was always a jealous, neurotic stick in the mud)
Lucifer barely even cares when the final letter appears. He’s sixteen and in the past year his life has been turned on its head. There are more immediate things to worry about than the stupid tattoo. Besides, at this point the letter could hardly be anything other than an l. Although it would be nice if the other boy’s parents had been considerate enough to tack a z or j on the end of Samuel’s name, just to make identifying him easier. No such luck apparently.
By this point Chuck has left his family so he can go smoke a lot of crack, drink a lot of tequila and write crappy mystery fiction (read: porn) in a dinghy apartment (way to have a midlife crisis, dad). Michael is more of an ass than ever, breaking under the strain of trying to care for three teenagers alone in his first year out of school.
Gabriel is spending more and more time out of the house doing God-knows-what; or maybe God-knows-who. Lucifer doesn't want to ask but he’s afraid his younger brother’s infamous tramp stamp might have vanished, signifying an early death for the poor kid’s soulmate.
Raphael, shortly after coming out as trans (which no one really cared about but she could have picked a better time than the night dad left, seriously, Raph) decided she wanted to be a doctor and therefore couldn't possibly be expected to find part time work with her brothers. Obviously the demands of her studies took precedence over their collective need to buy food.
It’s no accident Lucifer only applies to colleges that happen to be a very long way from home. Four years away from the soap opera his family life turned into is sounding really nice right about now. Four years away from New York winters wouldn't exactly be something he’d turn down either. Four years away from Michael and his fraying temper. Four years away from Gabriel, who apparently did not lose his tattoo but just wants to be “experienced” enough when the time comes for him to meet his soulmate, which is getting more and more disturbing every week. Four years away from Raphael, who had failed to become any less of an annoying, smug piece of crap as she’d aged.
Lucifer wasn't one of those kids who grew up dreaming of a grand escape to the world of tertiary education but he can’t deny Stanford law school is the best time of his life so far. He’s second in his class by an infuriatingly tiny margin to a ridiculous boy named- of all things- Samuel.
Glaring at the back of the boy’s head during his final exam of the year (torts), Lucifer wonders whether Sam sold his soul for those extra inches of height. Or maybe it was for his perfect hair. Or his brains. Or the pretty blond girl he’s always with.
Boy might be the wrong word for a giant who is barely a month younger than Lucifer but Sam Winchester, at 22, somehow looks fresh faced and innocent enough that he’s probably still mistaken for a teenager on occasion, despite his size.
It’s not that Lucifer hates Sam; quite the opposite. It’s just that he can never forget the way his stomach did a flip when he first saw the boy, a second when he introduced himself as Sam with that breathtaking smile, and then dropped through the floor when Jessica materialized at his side.
Lucifer takes pride in finishing his exam before Sam. Knocking into the boy’s chair on the way past just to break his concentration might have been a bit petty but the startled, kicked puppy look makes it worthwhile. Smirking, Lucifer turns away to walk to the front of the room, trying very hard not to think about the two letters he saw on Sam’s collarbone (damn the boy’s low neckline) which were definitely not a J and e.
It’s a very common name after all.
Sam confronts Lucifer the very next day.
‘Your name isn't Lucifer.’ He states bluntly.
All he gets for his effort is a bored looking eyebrow raised in his direction.
After a few moments of shuffling his feet, Sam makes his decision, somehow managing to gracefully fold his cartoonishly huge body into the seat across from Lucifer.
Lucifer chooses to remain silent.
Sam’s jaw sets determinedly.
‘I saw your exam cover paper yesterday. When you kicked me. I didn't mean to look. But your name kinda grabbed my attention. Because, uh,’ he trailed off, clearly nervous.
Lucifer understands. He’s had this exact conversation from Sam’s end before, thinking he’s found the one only for it to turn out they have an entirely different name on their body, if they have one at all. This time though, he knows. Both of them have the tattoos on their collarbone and he saw Sam’s first two letters.
And Sam is sitting here talking to him because he saw Lucifer’s given name.
Lucifer finishes his drink and grins at Sam, predatory. He reaches up and slowly undoes the top buttons on his shirt, just enough to reveal the calligraphy printed on his skin.
He stops the show to look at Sam, expecting to be greeted with the usual rapturous expression he’s watched adopted on the faces of others upon finding their soulmates (or maybe just a rapturous expression at seeing Lucifer’s amazing shoulders).
Sam just looks pissed.
‘Four fucking years we've known each other. Why the fuck are you using a fake name, Samael?’
Oh.
Distantly Lucifer hopes Michael never hears about this. His brother wouldn't even have to say ‘I told you so’. He’d just look smug whenever he saw Sam for the rest of his life. It would be awful.
Then Lucifer’s brain catches up with him and he realizes that Sam Winchester is sitting across from him demanding an explanation for the four wasted years.
Sam, whose soulmate is apparently not pretty, blonde Jess.
Sam, who Lucifer has been waiting for since he was eight years old.
Hoping to distract him from the issue at hand (because Lucifer really doesn't have a valid excuse for the four wasted years, not to mention the last twenty four definitely wasted hours) he launches himself across the table at Sam and kisses him.
It works.
If you're not reading this on AO3 it has been stolen.