Work Text:
When he was young, Lucifer thought about his responsibilities. It seemed that he always had a task to do. Either from Father or from other angels passing off their work onto him. He didn’t complain. He wanted to be seen as useful by those around him. If he were to look closely into his own motivations, he’d realize that he wanted those around him to need his presence. Or to, hopefully, want him around.
Now, in the Devildom, it isn’t much different. He has his responsibilities, he has his work that never seems to be finished, and he has Diavolo, the new person to be handing out orders. It is different in some ways though. Father never gave him this burning, longing feeling in his chest. If he did, he might not have left. Diavolo, though, is still the prince. One that would like Lucifer to see him as a friend, but still gives him his orders and responsibilities. He can’t forget that.
With MC around, he has new responsibilities. Ensuring they complete their work, keeping them safe, keeping his brothers in line. It seems like everywhere he turns, they’re getting in a new type of trouble. It rankles him that they take up the time he could be using for his work but they are his responsibility. He can’t allow them to go off on their own.
Internally, he’ll keep his wanting for more to himself. He’ll bury his desires deep down because he’s the responsible brother. He’s the eldest and has a reputation to uphold. The longing doesn’t disappear.
**
After the mess of the first few days MC was here, things seem to have mellowed out. They aren’t the most responsible person and have caused him more trouble than they’re worth but they seem to make an effort.
They get along with the others, joking and joining them on any adventures they make up. Lucifer imagined his brothers would be more possessive of them but it seems they’ve made a schedule of when it’s their time to spend time together. It doesn’t affect him that he hasn’t been invited on these adventures. He has work to do, after all. His brothers know this. MC seems to know this as well.
He’s left alone.
MC gets along with everyone, unlike him. They’re friendly with the angels, with Diavolo and Barbatos, with his brothers, even with the other demons in RAD. He recalls seeing them talking with Mephistopheles and Thirteen. They don’t talk with him much, most likely because of how busy he is.
Despite this, he still hears of what they get up to. Modeling with Mammon and Asmodeus, buying rare merchandise for whatever game Leviathan is interested in that day, etc. They don’t initiate these outings, he’s noticed. More, being pulled to the whims of his brothers. He used to be able to relate to that issue when he was younger. When his brothers relied on him more.
He can remember Mammon pulling at his pant leg while he worked and he would take him into his arms, allowing him to sit in his lap while he worked. It wasn’t the most efficient way of working. Mammon would make a mess of his desk and knock over everything he could get his hands on. He’s glad Mammon doesn’t rely on him now. He doesn’t miss his brothers interrupting his work.
Turning to the pile of paperwork Diavolo asked him to complete, he sighs. A migraine creeps up in his head and his eyebrows pinch together in pain. He can’t take a break for something so trivial though. Diavolo will want the work finished by the end of the day.
He hears a knock at his door and his eyebrow twitches in annoyance. He lifts himself up from his desk and opens his door, anticipating seeing one of his brothers; perhaps Mammon has come to ask for his card back again. His eyes trail down to see a tray with treats and fresh tea. There’s no note accompanying it but he knows who it came from.
His brothers wouldn’t have left him something so kind. His lips threaten to smile and he picks up the tray, walking it back to his desk. The tea soothes his head and he continues to work.
It’s good that MC understands how important his work is.
Despite everything he knows MC does, he’s hyper-aware of the fact that they ask for nothing in return. It puts him on edge to know this, waiting for the foot to drop and for them to turn against his brothers. Because of this, he doesn’t allow himself to be in their debt. He’ll return the favor at a later time.
**
“Oh, hey Lucifer. I didn't expect you to be up so late.”
MC is climbing in through the window, their body half outside, half in. He offers his hand and, when they grab it, he pulls them inside and shuts the window. Nothing but the night sky greets him when he looks out.
“My own special salvation, I guess,” they joke.
Lucifer turns to them, watching as they pull a book from their bag. "I thought one of my brothers would've been out there with you. It's not safe for you to be exploring the Devildom alone." If they got hurt, it's his responsibility. That's why he reminds them.
They laugh, sitting on the couch and lighting the candle next to it. "I wasn't far, I just needed my own space for a bit. I was on the roof."
"I don't know if that's much safer," he replies, amusement coating his voice. They grin impishly, their smile glinting in the candlelight. He finds that he's never seen them so natural. They're relaxed against the couch, their book open, yet they pay attention to him as he speaks.
"Well, agree to disagree, I suppose. I don't feel unsafe out there."
Of course they don't, they've stupidly brave, walking through even the grimiest parts of the Devildom. But they usually have one of his brothers with them and, despite his doubts, he knows that they would keep MC safe.
Lucifer sighs and sits next to them, peering at the book they're reading. It's something religious in nature and has many notes in the margins with a bright red pen. He imagines Satan having an aneurysm if he saw it. Satan's protectiveness over his books knows no bounds, or perhaps it's just Lucifer that his antagonistic behavior is focused on.
"I'd still appreciate it if you were more careful when going out," he says. "There are many out there that would see you dead or harmed in the least." Their mouth parts, likely to defend their friends, but he interrupts them, "Even if it isn't directed at you, they may target you to get to us."
Their mouth closes and they tilt their head in contemplation, hopefully thinking through what he's said. "I can be more careful but the roof is where I go to have a break from everyone," they shake their head sharply, "Not that I think they're bothering me, but sometimes I just need time on my own, y'know?"
He does know. He tells himself that many times throughout the day. They probably aren't lying though, so he feels no need to relate his situation to theirs. They're different.
He supposes if he were able to spend time with others, he could possibly understand what they mean. He spends too much time alone. No, a perfect amount. He needs his alone time to do his work and that's why his brothers don't bother him. Nothing else. He hums noncommittally and guesses that they take it as agreement.
They lean against him, allowing him to see their book more clearly. "What are you doing up so late, anyway? You didn't seem the type to put off sleep for your own entertainment but I don't see any papers with you."
He debates telling them that he was awake because when he went to give them tea, they weren't in their room and he had spent the past hour and a half worrying over their safety. He decides not to.
"I finished my work not too long ago. I was going to get food when I saw you crawling inside," he laughs it off, pretending he wasn't affected by the sight of them safe and returning home.
They nod, though he isn't sure if they believe him. The need to explain himself bubbles in his throat but he pushes it down.
They continue talking for hours and if Lucifer doesn't let the others know of MC's habit of climbing onto the roof, well, that's just him returning their favor. He didn't get to give them their tea, after all.
**
It's become their own routine. MC sneaks out while he works and he pretends he doesn't notice. It's none of his business if they decide they need another break and it's not as though they're the only person in the house that sneaks out. He ignores the fact that they sneak out the most.
Every time they sneak out, he's there waiting for them when they come back in, offering his hand to pull them back inside. Their hand fits in his comfortably.
One night, he abandons his work after hearing them leave and follows them out, not allowing them to know. He watches them carefully make their way to the roof, following a path that seems familiar to them.
They pull out a book from their bag and reads, laying on their stomach and flicking a red pen in their hand.
He can only watch as all the tension he didn't know they carried melts away as they read, basking in the moonlight. They look gorgeous, the way they relax and roll their pen between their fingers. Their eyebrows are pinched in thought, their tongue peeking out between their lips. They're balanced precariously on the roof. What he assumed was at least a safe position was actually them leaning close to the edge, one leg dangling in the air.
He fears for their safety, sure they'll fall off eventually, but it doesn't happen. They stay calm, stretching and occasionally shifting to get comfortable, but they don't fall.
When they come back inside, he's waiting at the window to offer his hand. "Sorry for going out to read so much. I don't want to be the one keeping you up," they say. He sighs, feigning being bothered.
"I don't mind. My work will keep me up anyway, it's no bother to ensure you come in safely as well," he says. He doesn't bring up the fact that he uses this time to study them. To memorize their face and habits.
When they're reading, they relax completely and he feels honored he can witness such a thing.
He studies them as they sit in their usual spot on the couch, taking in their form. They don't seem human. Too perfect in a way that's entirely too organic. "What are you?", he asks, somewhat jokingly.
They look up and grin, the candlelight reflecting in their eyes. "Whatever you want me to be, sir", they reply.
Lucifer relaxes, holding his hand out once again, "Would you like to join me in bed?" The need to feel wanted burns in him, begging them to say yes, even if he'd never beg out loud.
Their hand sits in his, following him to his bedroom.
The way they feel against him sates his need. Though he fears not being enough for them, his opportunities for being intimate with someone were few and far between and he has always been processing what he felt for Diavolo, they reassure him. They give him what he's always wanted. Candlelight dances between them, a witness to their gluing of bodies and soft touches.
They're warm under his hands, their skin pliant and dimpling easily. He wonders if this is what it feels like to worship someone. He wonders if they will allow him to peel off his intoxicating pride and sit at their feet. He wonders if they would hold his honor gently, unlike anyone before.
When he wakes, they're reading beside him. The candlelight is still there, just as warm as their presence. The candle smells sweet, tickling his nose.
They look up and see him awake. Smiling, they take his hand in theirs and keeps reading. He falls back asleep, ignoring the work waiting for him on his desk.
**
“Where do you go to at night, MC?”
Lucifer's eyes flicker nervously, taking in MC's form at the table. It's breakfast time and Asmodeus has leaned his body against them, teasingly poking their cheek. He pushes down any jealousy he feels at the action. If they want to talk about their secret night outings, that's their business.
He pushes away his pain at the thought.
They look up from their food, a confused look on their face. "What do you mean, Asmo?", they ask. He laughs politely and sits in his own seat, looking at them with hooded eyes.
"I know you sneak out. I went to your room last night for cuddles and you weren't there," he pouts. Lucifer wonders if they cuddle regularly, spearing his food with more force than strictly necessary.
They tilt their head as if trying to recall where they were last night. Lucifer knows. He can't forget where they were. The burning feel of their touch is imprinted on his skin. He doesn't know if he wants them to tell Asmodeus where they were or not.
They stayed in bed late together and Lucifer wasn't entirely put together now. His tie was a bit wrinkled from where they leaned up to give him a kiss earlier.
"I won't tell you," they say, smiling at his brother in response.
The table pauses, collectively dragging their eyes to the only human that practically admitted they were somewhere they weren't meant to be last night. Mammon's eyes flick to Lucifer fearfully, as if expecting him to punish them. He ignores him and continues eating.
"That's so unfair!" Asmodeus whines, pressing his face against their shoulder. The others make noises of agreement and Lucifer sniffs. He straightens his posture and looks around at his brothers.
"If they don't want to share their business, they're not required to. You are being careful though, MC? It'd be unfortunate if you were hurt under my watch," he says. Their eyes shine in understanding and he pushes down the urge to smile.
The others look at him suspiciously but continue eating, likely not wanting to anger him. MC's foot presses lightly against his leg under the table and he can't stop his smile, his eyes catching theirs before looking away.
The conversation continues at the table, his brothers pretending it didn't happen. Satan eyes him with caution but doesn't speak up.
Later that day, MC sidles up to him with a welcoming smile. "Would you like to join me tonight?" they ask. He blinks in surprise, his eyebrows raising. Join them... reading? The thought warms him entirely and he finds himself nodding in agreement.
The idea of working that night has entirely abandoned him.
They grin and walk off to continue whatever they were up to previously and he finds himself smiling as he works. He could be worried about how often he's been distracted from his work but, like when Mammon would pull at his pant leg to be picked up, he can't find himself refusing them. His head falls against his chair, his eyes tracing the details of the ceiling.
That night, when they meet at the window, he feels nervous but excited to share this part of them. Knowing that this was their time away from others and they've invited him to join in fills the hole in his chest that's always been there.
"Are you alright?" they ask, fingers tracing his own trembling ones. His breath catches.
"I'm a bit worried," he says. Admitting this is hard and he assumes they know that by the way they flatten their hand against his.
Just feeling this solid contact makes him feel real. It makes his nerves calm and his shoulders slump. His perfect posture suffers from how gently they speak to him.
Watching as they precariously find their way to the roof and lay in the spot he found them the night before, he finds that there's tranquility he hasn't felt in years. He had forgotten how good it felt for someone to willingly and purposefully grab his attention and invite him into their life. Like they want him there. Like they want him. As he follows their route to join them, stress melts from him. They hold their hand out to him and he takes it, allowing them to pull him up against them.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?" they tease, leaning comfortably against him.
He shakes his head in agreement, humming and hooking his chin over their shoulder to read their book with them. He doesn't tell them that, before them, it was impossibly difficult for him to break any rule he gave himself. That, before them, he had a schedule and followed it like it was his own religion.
With them by his side, his schedule means nothing to him but he knows, if he wanted to follow it, they'd still be by his side.
With his body pressed against theirs, he soaks in the moonlight and the words dancing on their page, taking in nothing and thinking about only them. Their red pen burns in his mind and he finds that he only reads what they've written.
**
“Lucifer.”
He looks up, blinking away his sleepiness. His heart skips a beat as he stares up at them. He momentarily forgot where he was until he felt the sharp poking of the roof underneath him. He sits up and looks at the ground under them, taking in how high they are and how dangerous it was to fall asleep.
"I think it's time to go inside," they say. He nods at them and yawns, following them back down to the window.
They jump in first, rolling on the ground to soften the fall. As he crawls back in, they offer him their hand. He takes it and pulls himself inside. He thinks back to the first time he found them doing this and what their words were. They called him their salvation. He ignored them back then but, thinking about it now, he can't help but to think the same of them.
"My painfully mortal salvation," he mutters. They blink and smile at him fondly. The sight makes him stop breathing.