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Stanley was an ordinary man. He had a wife, a job, and two kids. Most of his life had been shockingly average. He’d achieved a decent position in his office, and his wife taught at the local college. His daughter was about to start high school and his son was in fourth grade. They had a nice suburban house and a steady income.
And then 2007 came and went, and things started to go downhill.
2008 brought worse challenges, and Stanley’s wife lost her job. His daughter fell into the wrong crowd, and his son was almost kicked out of school. Stanley even struggled to hold onto his own position.
But, miraculously, they survived. Stanely narrowly avoided being laid off and his wife got a new job pushing carts at the supermarket. His daughter pulled her grades back up. His son’s behaviour got better. Stanley thought that everything would be okay.
It wasn’t.
Instead of Stanley’s life going out in a vast, fiery explosion with the stock market, it was more of a slow, sprawling descent into despair. Stanley thought he would have preferred the first one. Anything was better than this.
He couldn’t support his family. There just wasn’t enough to go around. They managed through the next few years, but every year the debt got worse, his wife grew closer to losing her job again, and his hopes for his children’s futures sank lower and lower.
And that was why, on October 10th, 2013, long after the sun had set, Stanley found himself standing by the side of the train tracks.
There was a crumpled paper in his hand. Some scrawlings he’d copied out of an old book. He doubted any of it was real, but he had to try. He would trade anything for his family.
Even his own life.
“Well there, stranger, fancy seeing another face around here,” drawled an unfamiliar voice, with a lilt that Stanley quickly placed as English. “Nice night, don’t you think?”
Stanley nearly jumped out of his skin, but fear kept him frozen to the spot. He turned. There was fog rolling over the ground that hadn’t been there a moment ago, he was sure, and it effectively cloaked the figure leering at him out of the darkness. Sharp eyes like clean-cut jewels of amber pinned him down like a hunted animal. Stanley gulped.
“Oh… cat got your tongue?” the… creature questioned, practically slinking towards him in a way that reminded Stanley of a majestic panther he’d seen on TV once. “Come on, spit it out. Nobody comes here unless they want something.” Those eyes didn’t move from Stanley’s face for a single instant, keeping him entranced. As it drew closer, Stanley could make out a neatly-pressed suit and tie, and tousled hair with streaks of grey. But other than the eyes, its most defining feature was the horns. Its claws found the collar of Stanley’s shirt and hooked it. “I can taste the desperation dripping off of you—you’re practically drowning in it… Stanley.”
The use of Stanley’s name jolted him out of his stupor. His hands shook as he raised them to sign, hoping that this… thing would understand him. “Are you… him?” Stanley asked, and finally that gaze removed itself from his face, focusing on his hands instead.
The creature cocked its head quizzically, and its mouth split into a sly smile. It stepped back, removing its claws from Stanley’s shirt, and a shiver wracked Stanley’s frame. God, it was cold. Stanley wished he’d worn a jacket.
“It depends what ‘him’ you mean, Stanley…” Something fluttered behind the man-that-wasn’t-really-a-man, and Stanley realized that it was black wings. “Come, now. Who are you looking for?”
Stanley made the sign as quickly as he could as if he were scared he would curse himself just by having the name on his hands. “Lucifer.”
The creature chuckled, sounding downright amused by Stanley’s terror. “Now, that’s a first. Usually, people say ‘Nick’, or ‘the Devil’, or even ‘Satan’. Never had anybody use my name before.” It—no, he, this thing standing in front of him was a masculine being, Stanley was sure—sauntered back over to him with a coy smile. “Of course, I suppose it’s only fair, seeing as I know your name.”
“What else do you know about me?” Stanley asked before he could stop himself. He wanted to know. He needed to know how much power this- how much power Lucifer had over him.
The response came as a hiss in his ear, quiet yet powerful. “Everything.”
Stanley’s hands were still shaking as he raised them again. “Then you know what I want,” he signed. Lucifer had circled behind him, and his heart was thumping faster now that he didn’t know where Lucifer was, but he was sure the other still knew what he was signing.
“Mm, no, I don’t.” Claws trailed down Stanley’s spine and Stanley stifled a gasp at the sudden, freezing-cold contact. “The demands of humans are still unknown to me, after all these years. I know everything about you, but I don’t know what makes you tick.” A single claw, sharp and deadly, settled on the back of Stanley’s neck. Stanley didn’t move. “But, of course, you’re not here to teach me. So, Stanley… what will it be? What demands do you have to make of me?”
Stanley’s eyes immediately flickered to Lucifer’s face as he reappeared at Stanley’s side. Stanley felt distinctly like he was being sized up for a meal—as if as soon as they were done, the creature in front of him would unhinge its jaw and tear him limb from limb. He had to admit the prospect sounded better than continuing to live his own miserable existence. But that was the point, wasn’t it? That was why he was here.
Lucifer continued to gaze at him expectantly. Stanley simultaneously wished that he never saw those eyes again, and that they remained on him for all eternity.
“I want my family to be okay,” Stanley finally signed. “I don’t want us to be rich. I just want my wife to get a job that can support our kids, and my children to be able to go to college.” He felt like he should add more but didn’t. He didn’t want to say too much, either.
Lucifer seemed genuinely taken by surprise, though he recovered well. “A self-sacrificing family man… is that what you are, Stanley? You know what my price is, don’t you?” He was close again. Close to Stanley’s chest; Stanley’s face. Lucifer had very sharp, white teeth, Stanley noticed. “Your soul, Stanley. It’s not too late to back out. To go home, to your wife and children, and spend the rest of your life there. If you give me your soul, your days will be numbered. Your existence will be cursed. And you will spend your afterlife in the Pit.” It was a warning, clear as day. Maybe Stanley should have been listening better, and not staring at Lucifer’s forked tongue as he spoke.
“I know,” replied Stanley. “I just want my family to be happy. I don’t care about what happens to me.”
Lucifer lifted his eyebrows and sighed. “ Nothing for you, really? You don’t want to enjoy your last days on Earth? Stanley, Stanley, Stanley… I could throw in a promotion, perhaps a new car, maybe some new talents just for fun?” He tutted quietly and fixed Stanley’s collar. The action was so strange in this context that it startled Stanley more than anything else.
“I don’t want anything.”
“Well, if you’re sure…” Lucifer heaved another disappointed little sigh. “Standard contracts are five years. For your deal, I think that sounds fair. Of course, I’m always willing to negotiate-”
“One week,” Stanley signed, making Lucifer stop mid-sentence.
“One week?!” The look on the creature’s face was almost comical. “Stanley, I don’t think you understand. When I come for your soul, you will die a horrible, painful death, and begin an eternity of torment in the fiery depths of Hell, at my own hand. You are a human. You should be scared.” Lucifer grabbed Stanley’s shirt and pulled him down, amber hellfire eyes meeting plain brown ones again. They were so close now that Stanley could smell him, and he made out tea, ink, and sulfur before he was distracted by Lucifer speaking once more. “You should want more than a measly week to enjoy your lackluster deal. Frankly, I’m insulted.”
Stanley couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt as if they had been frozen solid, and his heart was still racing a mile a minute. Lucifer was so close, and touching him. He hadn’t expected to come to make a deal with the Devil and end up questioning his sexuality. Stanley figured it wasn’t his fault, though—Lucifer’s entire job was to entice, wasn’t it?
Lucifer shook his head. “Well, I suppose if you want to make a downright terrible deal, I will gladly take it. Just trying to make your life a bit more tolerable before you die, Stanley, goodness gracious,” he drawled, throwing his hands up in a defeated gesture. “Your soul for your family’s good fortune. One week contract. Is that really it?”
Stanley nodded slowly. He’d lived long enough. He’d seen enough. If he was going to die, he just wanted to die knowing that his family would be okay. “Where do I sign?”
“Oh, no, Stanley, you don’t sign for a deal like this. You can’t just scribble down a name on a piece of paper to sell your soul. I thought you did your research.” Lucifer tilted his head to one side. “To make a devil’s contract binding, one must seal the deal with a kiss.”
Oh. Stanley had forgotten about that. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head, but Lucifer’s icy chill and burning hellfire were threatening to consume him. His hands were still, unable to form any words.
“Look, I get it, Stanley. You don’t want to kiss a man,” Lucifer said, as if this had happened a thousand times before. “I could look like your wife, instead, if you’d prefer-”
Stanley found his grip on reality again when he signed an enthusiastic, “No!” Then he blushed, embarrassed. He didn’t want Lucifer to imitate his wife. That would just be creepy. Besides, it didn’t take a genius to see that Lucifer was a handsome devil… literally.
Lucifer gave him a knowing grin. “Oh… oh, I see. Congratulations, Stanley—you’re not as depressingly heterosexual as I thought you were.” And Stanley blushed harder, now flustered that Lucifer had picked up on his feelings so easily. He told himself again that it was just something that Lucifer did, to coerce people into selling their souls, but that didn’t make it any better. Here he was, making a deal with the Devil, and he was as flustered as he’d been in middle school, asking a girl out for the first time. And yet he didn’t want the feeling to stop. “You know, I get a lot of repressed middle-aged men coming out to the train tracks to find me. A lot of the same, Stanley. But you continue to surprise.”
Stanley held his breath as one of Lucifer’s black-stained claws (perhaps that was the ink he could smell) trailed up his chin. Then it stopped, holding Stanley’s jaw gently, as if he were balancing on a knife point. The inherent danger, the adrenaline… Stanley thought he might have been getting drunk off of it. He certainly felt dazed enough to be.
“I wouldn’t go as far as to say you’re special, Stanley—you’re still just some boring nobody from nowhere, Georgia, but at least you’ve managed to make tonight’s deal interesting, and I appreciate that,” continued Lucifer. His gaze fell to Stanley’s lips, and Stanley felt scrutinized again. He felt as if Lucifer could see right through him, to everything that lay beneath—though to his feelings or his organs, Stanley wasn’t sure. “Now, we’re running out of moonlight. Last chance to turn around and leave.”
Stanley didn’t want to leave. Not because he had no other choice, not really, but because the damned creature had captivated him. So he leaned forward, finally reaching out and touching Lucifer himself with his hands folding around the back of Lucifer’s neck, and kissed him.
It was a bit like putting his lips on a meteor, Stanley thought. An icy ball of gas and fire. There was a distinct taste of ash on his lips, and the contact burned— searing through Stanley’s entire body and holding him there, as if Lucifer was etching his claim into Stanley’s very soul. It was too cold; it was too hot; Stanley’s hands dug into Lucifer’s hair and pulled with a ferocity that would have hurt an ordinary human. He couldn’t pull away even if he wanted to.
And Lucifer kissed back with fervour. His claws dug into Stanley’s chest and upper arm, just adding more to the waterfall of horrible sensation washing over him. Sharp fangs dug into Stanley’s bottom lip and he tasted blood; Lucifer grinned against Stanley’s mouth as Stanley floundered to keep his head above water.
Stanley felt as if he’d been set on fire.
Lucifer. He was kissing Lucifer. And it was pain, it was his entire world turned on its head, it was a never-ending cascade of emotions and sensations, and Stanley was grabbing Lucifer’s tie like a lifeline, pulling them even closer together…
And worst, or perhaps best of all, Stanley was enjoying it.
Maybe he did deserve Hell, after all. Maybe this was proof that he’d been damned from the start. And it turned out that damnation tasted like tea and a posh English accent and a cold shadow with hands that burned his contract into his skin like a red-hot iron.
They separated like two alike magnets being released—Stanley stumbled away from Lucifer as if he’d been shoved, bleeding in multiple places and completely disoriented as his back hit a nearby tree. He still tasted ash. And bitter ink. He wanted to spit on the ground, but faintly decided that that would be rude.
“Like I said,” Lucifer called out, sounding remarkably put together but just a little frazzled underneath the surface. “You continue to surprise me, Stanley.”
Stanley couldn’t even begin to put a response together. How was he supposed to come back from that? How was he supposed to go back home now, and face his family, and hide what he’d done—the deal; the kiss.
“Well, that’s that.” Lucifer dusted his hands off on his jacket and straightened his tie. “Pleasure doing business with you, Stanley. I’ll see you on the 17th.” And he looked directly at Stanley and winked, that bastard, before he was gone.
It was then that Stanley truly realized the situation he was in. Shirt slightly torn from Lucifer’s claws, lip bleeding, head swimming so badly he could hardly tell which direction was up… and cold, alone, out at the edge of town in the middle of the night. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, relieved to see that it still had some power left. He could use it as a flashlight, at least.
Without a regret in his mind, not really, Stanley pushed himself away from the tree and stumbled off into the night, following the train tracks back to town.
He would die on October 17th, 2013. And he was okay with that. At least he knew where he’d be going, now. At least he had a chance to say his full goodbyes.
And his family would be okay. That was all that mattered.
Well, one more thing mattered.
Because Stanley couldn’t help wondering if he’d see Lucifer again.
The guy hadn’t really been so bad, after all.
And Stanley thought, for a moment, that he was happy.