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Chapter Text

Lucifer wakes in his bed, with sunlight streaming through the window and a warm blanket over him, someone else's arms wrapped around his chest.

I love you, Lucifer thinks, sleepily, and then quickly silences the thought. There is no need for sentiment over this. All he needs to know is that he is happy.

Morpheus pulls him closer to him, affectionate, when he realizes he’s awake. He presses tiny kisses to his neck, open-mouthed, to make Lucifer shudder.

Lucifer rolls over to face him, and blinks. He doesn't resist a smile.

Morpheus kisses his lips. Good morning, Morningstar.

Lucifer chuckles. "Good morning to you, sweet Morpheus. I hope you don’t mind, but I may fall asleep again."

I will be here.

Morpheus tucks him into his chest, and Lucifer has never felt so warm, so secure, so safe.

Chapter Text

Lucifer is trying not to let tears fall, but he's already crying too hard to breathe. He clutches Morpheus to him, digging his nails into the fabric of his robes and into his arms.

I love you, he thinks. Damn you. Damn you, Dream, I love you.

“I love you, Dream.”

Lucifer.

A hand in his hair. Condoling him. Things like that used to make him feel safe. Like he was being looked after.

I'm sorry. I have to go.

Lucifer clings, as tightly as he can. "Don't. Don’t."

I love you, Lucifer. I promise, I always will. No matter who I am, you may always rely on that. You can always come to me for anything you need.

Lucifer knows there's no argument he can make here. They've already fought, and Lucifer has already lost. He has played every card possible.

He tries to think of some kind of last goodbye. Something that isn't just crying and something that isn't just desperate and for somebody's sake, something that isn't angry; he is so tired of being angry, and he won't let it be the last thing Dream hears from him.

No words come. But actions speak louder, so he just lunges to grab the back of Dream's neck and pulls him into a deep, desperate kiss.

Then, he lets Dream go, but still grips his hands. 

He shuts his eyes, because if he looks he won't let him go.

Then he lets Dream go.

Chapter Text

When Lucifer strides into the palace, Dream immediately knows something's wrong.

He’s not sure what tips him off. Maybe it’s the fact that Lucifer hasn’t spoken to him in months, or maybe it’s the fact that his wings aren’t feathered, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s covered in blood.

Alright, so it’s not that hard to tell that something’s wrong.

Lucifer is halfway up the stairs before he has even fully stood up — and then the angel has wrapped his arms and wings around him and buried his face in his chest, holding him and shaking before either of them has said a word.

He... he rests his arms around Lucifer.

What else can he do? He promised. Anything Lucifer needs, he will do his best to provide.

What... what happened?

"I killed Michael," Lucifer says, tone utterly flat.

…Oh.

Lucifer is radiating grief. He is also radiating a seething, frothing wrath, a rage that is burning him from the inside out.

He is a brewing hurricane. He is a restrained supernova. Dream is suddenly afraid of what he's going to do. 

W... what?

"Fenris. The wolf. Inflicted a...a madness upon me. Took my body and... used it to kill my brother."

Lucifer's voice is low and thick and wild and dangerous.

"I'm going to kill him."

Dream stares at him. He shifts to lift a hand, brushing the back of it along the ridge of a batlike wing, heart lurching into his throat. Lucifer, I…

Lucifer shakes his head and interrupts him. "I just needed to... tell someone myself. Someone who didn't know. Apologies. I needed —" He breaks off. "I don't have time to grieve. I have to go. But I just — I just wanted someone, someone to know that I didn't want to hurt him."

Of course you didn't, Lucifer, I can’t ima—

"I have to go. Something, something, rage against the dying of the light. I love you. I'm... I'm sorry, Dream. I’ll… I’ll come back. Eventually. If I’m not dead."

And he is gone, from Dream’s arms and from the Dreaming.

Dream just stands, bewildered, and then slowly sinks back into his throne.

I love you. I’ll come back.

The messengers tell him later what Lucifer has done.

They tell him Lucifer has killed Michael.

They tell him Lucifer has killed Fenris.

And Lucifer doesn't come back.

Chapter Text

Nine years. Nine months, twenty-two days. It's raining in the Dreaming still.

The thundering is over, the lightning only occasional. It's just rain.

Dream aches to go to him. Every part of him aches to embrace the figure that stands in front of him, pretty gold-blue eyes and white wings, but he has long since learned to distrust his eyes when it comes to this particular shape. Especially since he is bleeding. Dream steels himself.

Why should I believe you're Lucifer?

The figure blinks, bleary with pain. "What?"

Convince me. Dream raises an eyebrow and taps one finger on the arm of his throne, impatient. You're Lucifer Morningstar. Prove it, or you will meet the same fate as other liars before you have.

Lucifer's face falls, for just a moment. His lips press into a thin line. "Of course. I should have guessed others would try to take advantage of my absence. Very well, I…" There is a pause, and he shifts from foot to foot. "You can ask me anything you have shared in confidence."

Dream narrows his eyes. No. Questions can reveal their answers far too easily. You tell me, without prompt.

Lucifer's eyebrows knit together, but he thinks for a moment, and then responds dutifully. "You told me… you told me… once… that ‘care doesn't take worth into account.’ When I was staying with you, after you cut off my wings."

Ah. Intriguing. But someone could have found out about Lucifer's presence afterwards, and guessed at a dialogue. Dream distantly remembers saying something to that effect. He steeples his fingers together. Continue.

Lucifer looks around. "We are alone?"

Entirely.

"Swear it. I don’t want your ravens repeating my confessions."

On my family's blood.

Lucifer takes a breath, and tells him, "I have only knelt to plead once in my life, and it was to ask you… to ask Morpheus… to stay."

There is a long silence.

Dream stands, and considers, and strides down the steps towards him. You mean, when you asked me to leave with you.

"Yes."

And yet when you left, you refused to take anyone with you. Not even Mazikeen. You refused to let her have any sway upon your choice of death.

Lucifer looks away.

Am I being too indirect?

"No. Your point is clear."

Look at me.

Lucifer looks at him. Dream is in his personal space now, looking down at him, expression a mask of composed neutrality.

Why did you come back? From the Void.

Lucifer's face twists. "I was— I was scared. Of dying."

Dream sighs, and reaches out to touch his chin with his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up. You did die, Lucifer. Neither of us is the same person we were, before our respective suicides.

Lucifer winces. "It wasn't—"

You killed a member of your own family, and walked into the void without hesitation, Dream says, bluntly. Call it what it is, and perhaps then you can address why you did it.

Lucifer doesn't know what to say to that, but he stays perfectly still as Dream caresses his face. His eyes flutter closed when Dream traces two fingers across the scar.

And why did you come back here?

"You mean, after you told Matthew to lead me in circles in the Dreaming for a few thousand years?"

I wasn't feeling very charitable towards your imitators. I imagine that Matthew had some pity, but you did come through the gates of ivory. Anyway, Mazikeen recently informed me you were back, so I let you in. But why did you try a second time?

Even as he talks, it starts to occur to him that he knows the answer. He's been aware of the bloodstains this whole time.

And it occurs to him: Lucifer is not the Morningstar anymore. He cannot block out simple pain as much as he used to.

Some disappointment stirs in his chest, and when Lucifer avoids his eyes and unbuttons his shirt, it only gets worse.

"I am deeply sorry to intrude —"

Lucifer, Dream says, quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder. I promised you I would care for you. That you could always come to me for help, no matter what. I'm… I'm glad that despite your dislike of me, you still trust me to honor that. I appreciate your faith in me.

Lucifer's eyes widen. "Dislike you? I—"

I don't want to have this conversation right now. I will ease your pain as best as I am able, and then you will leave. Are we understood?

Lucifer looks like he's bursting with things to say. He doesn't lie, but he has a quicksilver tongue, and some deep, hurt part of Dream refuses to let it make a move.

But the angel bites his lip, and says nothing, so Dream waves the hallways into order behind the throne room doors. He strides through to an infirmary without comment, and Lucifer follows. He sits on a high table, and shrugs off his blazer and shirt, wincing.

Dream assesses the wound. What caused this? Even with your limited power, you should have healed by now.

"A, a sword. The sword used to slay Azazel, I think. The wound is fine, it's… a piece of metal broke off inside." Lucifer shudders. "I can, I can feel it. It moves."

Azazel? Mm. I had put him in the Box. Some tendril of anger grips him again, and he says, I wasn't exactly keeping a close eye on the security, following your death. I suppose he might have escaped then. I was rather preoccupied.

Lucifer, to his credit, doesn't rise to it, at least not in the way Dream half-wants him to. On one hand, it's nice that he's accepting the guilt-trip without being defensive, but the tears in his eyes are... worse.

Dream focuses, hard, on the wound. I cannot heal you or remove this shard. You must find Azazel, and hopefully the blade will remember its purpose.

"Right," Lucifer chokes out. "Right, yes, of course."

Dream, barely casting him a glance, puts a hand on his shoulder to push him back down as he starts to stand. He finds gauze and bandages, and carefully dresses the injury. It will hold, and Lucifer will heal.

That's all I can do, Dream says, shortly.

"Thank you, Dream, I—"

Come back if you are hurt again. But I insist we talk only when you have no reason to excuse yourself. Finish your 'business', your latest grand adventure, first.

Dream has never felt sour before, but he understands what it means now. It stings, that Lucifer would only come to him because he needs help. Lucifer doesn’t want him. (He’s uncertain that anyone does.)

"Of course," Lucifer says, quietly. "I will."

Promise, if you wish to mend the rift you have caused.

"... I promise."

Do try not to take another ten years.

"I won't," Lucifer replies.

Good. Dream's voice is flat, and very tired. He sends him from his realm with a wave of his hand. Lucifer will wake in his own bed, well-rested and calmed.

Dream is angry, but he is not spiteful.

He goes to his throne room and resumes his count of how long it has been, since Lucifer left.

Four months pass.

Chapter Text

Dream senses when Lucifer enters his realm, and waits for him to arrive at the palace. 

When Lucifer pushes open the doors, Dream is finishing his work. He dismisses the dream he's crafting with a wave of his hand, and stands.

You're back.

"The end of the world is averted once again. Gabriel is an angel. There's a new God. No more chest wounds." Lucifer sighs, brushing his hands against his pants. "All sorted. I'm here."

Dream stands up and comes down the stairs to him, frowning slightly, arms crossed. It is good to see you without pretext.

"Yes."

Perhaps you can finally take your retirement in its name.

"I hope so," Lucifer answers, exhaustion tinting his voice.

Dream approaches him, and Lucifer tilts his head up. Dream remembers this little greeting movement, and obligingly takes his chin in his hand, caressing his cheek with his thumb. Morpheus would have followed this action with a kiss. Dream resists the temptation.

You look different too, you know. 

"The scar? Yes. Mazikeen… Mazikeen gave it to me."

I am aware. She told me, years ago. It is what convinced me of your authenticity.

"I am sorry to hear that others… imitated my presence, in my absence."

Mazikeen told me you were back. I supposed you might find your way here eventually. I am disappointed it took so long in the first place.

Lucifer shudders out a breath. "I've been— busy." 

Busy, Dream repeats, dropping his hand from Lucifer's face. Then, I could have— I could have handled it, if you had… broken up with me, you know. I… Morpheus… expected it. But you came to me, and you said you loved me, and then you, you simply… 

"I didn't know what to do. I couldn't bear it anymore, any of it, I did not know… what I wanted. You were the best thing to ever happen to me, Dream, and—" Lucifer's voice breaks, and he talks faster. "I was afraid that I wouldn't love you anymore, because you told me I might not. Yet I couldn't imagine being without you. I didn't know if I wanted to, what you said— 'break up'. What a terribly simple term. It was all twisted together. I couldn't think straight about it because I was still grieving you. And it… it just got worse from there."

Dream's heart aches. He knows that Lucifer has been through a lot, and for some reason he’s still deeply empathetic for him, even if he’s angry. He lifts his hand again, and gently brushes away the tears from Lucifer's face. So what do you want?

"I want to try," Lucifer answers, helplessly. "I want to try to move forward. I want to rebuild what, what friendship we had."

Ow. Dream scowls. I wouldn't say what we had was called friendship.

"I… No. No, it wasn't. I thought… you wouldn't want… Dream, I… I thought you would hate me."

I am not certain I don't, Dream snaps.

The look on Lucifer's face makes him regret the words instantly. The flinch under his hands compounds the guilt that pierces him.

I didn't mean that, Dream sighs, knowing the damage is already done. I'm sorry. I'm just— angry.

"I know. I am… exhausted. I am tired of hurting you. I am tired of hurting myself. I want to talk."

My sister convinced you of this, I'm sure.

"She gave me a push,” Lucifer admits. “But I want to stay."

Dream lifts an eyebrow. To stay?

"If— I could come back," Lucifer says, quickly, back-tracking. "If you need space—"

You gave me ten years of unasked-for space, Lucifer. 

Lucifer's gaze drops.

They say nothing for a moment, and then Dream drops his hand from Lucifer's face in order to take his hands, squeezing them.

"I have miscommunicated," Lucifer says.

Severely, says Dream. But so have I.

"I want to stay. If you'll have me."

Why should I trust you?

Lucifer considers the question seriously, and purses his lips to speak, before reconsidering. Eventually, he says, "... I don't have an answer to that, Dream."

Before he can stop himself, Dream leans down to kiss him, one hand pressing into the small of his back to tilt him ever-so-slightly off-balance.

Lucifer breathes in a tiny gasp, lifting his hands to Dream's shoulders, and lets Dream support him as he kisses back.

Promise me you won't leave again without a proper goodbye, Dream murmurs, his other hand thumbing Lucifer's lip.

Lucifer nods a little bit. "I… I promise."

Good.

The moment hangs for a little longer, and then Dream sighs. Lucifer has made many promises to him. Just because he’s fulfilled them does not mean that Dream is pleased.

I'm afraid I have to complete my work for today. Will you wait for me? I can… I can send you to a room.

"Yes."

I'm sure you can find your way, then.

He starts to pull away, and Lucifer lurches after him for a moment, clutching at his hands, before apparently realizing what he's doing. He apologetically steps away, nods, and turns around, heading off to the hallways of the palace.

Dream sighs again, gazing after him, and then returns to his throne and to his work.

Matthew caws a greeting, and swoops towards Lucifer, grasping at his hair with his claws (an aggressive move, to be sure, but it's a court jester's prerogative to provoke without fear of repercussion, Lucifer thinks) before flapping to a rafter.

"The other time, th'boss explicitly told me to lead you away from the palace, 'or else'." He pecks at a grain of wood and shifts his weight from foot to foot, feathers ruffling. "Then you come in all hurt for help, upset the boss for days. Didn't expect you'd come back, let alone come back a second time. You don't really have a right to, 'f you ask me, walking in here like you're some hotshot who's done nothing wrong."

Lucifer shrugs. "You're right. I don't have any right to be here."

Matthew caws again. Perhaps he expected Lucifer to defend himself. "Do you know how he found out? That you were back."

"I suppose you're about to tell me. It was Mazikeen, of course."

"Yeah. Queen Mazikeen, now, I guess. She, well, she showed up in the Dreaming and told him, told us all that you'd offed yourself. Explained some more after that, but I don't think it really helped."

Lucifer is still walking. The hallways are arranging themselves idly around him without doors to enter. He expects that Dream has sent Matthew to lead him to where he's supposed to go, and that Matthew isn't going to let the Dreaming progress this until he's done talking.

He's tired. But he makes an effort. "I didn't think of it like that. Not at the time."

Matthew squawks in disbelief. "After watching what Morpheus did? You didn't see how it was the exact same?"

Lucifer keeps his eyes forward. "I wasn't in the best of states."

"Immortals," Matthew mutters, in a derogatory tone. "Oy vey, you all have no sense. Anyway, you abandoned him. Don't expect everyone else to be as forgiving as him. We had to watch what that did to him. You didn't."

"I know," Lucifer murmurs.

Matthew flies in front of Lucifer, and then alights on a bust of a lion around the corner. "Room's in there," he says, jerking his head to indicate the door. "Nice wings."

Lucifer nods to the raven, and then closes the door behind him.

These are Dream's chambers. Lucifer can tell, though he's not sure how. It's not just that he remembers the layout. Really, it doesn't look that similar— the colors have changed, especially. It's hard for Lucifer to pin down the differences beyond that, but the atmosphere feels more like the presence of soft, light dawn than the coziness of a warm, dark refuge.

He sits down on the bed, feeling like a stranger here, but Dream has clearly chosen to send him here rather than have him in a guest room.

Without much else to occupy him, Lucifer preens his wings. He's been trying to pick up the habit again, since Mazikeen gave them a thorough grooming. It's a meticulous task, and Lucifer isn't sure that the relaxing feeling is counterbalancing the impatience he feels trying to do it, but the devil hates idle hands, and it's distracting enough.

Lost in memory, a few hours pass; a hand on his shoulder finds him and makes him jump.

Apologies. Dream sits down beside him, folding his legs criss-cross. I didn't mean to startle you. Your wings, they are… breathtaking.

Lucifer brushes imaginary dust from the bed, and draws his legs up to sit cross-legged too. "I forgot that you hadn't really… seen them like this up close."

Certainly not when you have been comfortable with them.

"Mm. Mazikeen…"

She mentioned that she went over them quite thoroughly.

"You two have become…?"

Rather close, I should think, in the years following your disappearance. Dream eyes him, with some measure of disapproval. I don't think you were very kind to her.

"I wasn't," Lucifer admits. "I… I didn't realize what she meant to me. How much I… well… loved her."

For some reason, Lucifer expected Dream to be jealous, or surprised, by the admission. Dream only frowns. I hadn't realized how much of your time I was monopolizing, he says, drily, that you should be so caught up in your love for me as to neglect your relationship with her.

"Entirely my fault."

Mm. Something for the two of you to work out. Lucifer, my dear, for all your brilliance, you would not recognize your own reflection in a mirror.

"I saw myself in Morpheus," Lucifer says, bluntly. "Let's not dance about the subject."

Dream tenses, drawing in a sharp breath. That stings more than he'd like to admit.

"I had a lot of time to think. I…" Lucifer sighs. "And I'm not sure that seeing myself in you was a good thing."

Ah. Well. That softens the point, but moves the hurt elsewhere. Lucifer—

"Hold on," Lucifer says, quietly, lifting a hand. "Please, let me explain."

Dream holds his tongue, and gives him a chance.

"What we had was affected by who we were. We… were broken, and sharp-edged. You… you don't feel like that anymore."

Neither do you. As I said, we are both different now from what we were.

"Right. So I… I don't… we need to—" he pauses— "negotiate our expectations of our relationship."

Dream is somewhat amused by his immediate conviction that Lucifer has just recited, by rote, Death's or Mazikeen's words.

I understand what you mean.

Lucifer relaxes considerably.

Dream lets himself do the same. There's no need to be on the defensive. Lucifer can be abrasive in his word choices, to say the least, but he means no real harm, and what he says is the truth.

May I kiss you, first?

Lucifer's eyes flash, gold in the soft light. "I'd like that."

Dream leans forward, and cups his face, drawing him close until their lips collide.

It's gentle, and slow, and chaste, nervous like it's their first time. They break, and then go back for another, and then slowly pull away.

Lucifer shifts to entirely face him, and reaches out his hands. Dream takes them.

"I know you're angry with me. I… I am sorry. For the hurt I have caused."

I appreciate the apology. 

"I don't know what I can do to start to heal the damage."

I want to understand why you did it. Why you left, and what part I had to play in that… decision.

Lucifer squeezes his fingers tightly. "I told you. I killed Michael, and…"

Did you? All accounts I have heard, including yours, don't seem to lead to that conclusion.

Lucifer stops. "My hands were on his throat," he says, voice strangled.

And Fenris was the one who squeezed.

"I felt it." Lucifer shifts his weight back and forth. His voice is small, but forced, with absolute conviction and complete shame. Dream suddenly knows that this is the first time Lucifer has made this confession. "I— I was conscious. The whole time. I wasn't strong enough to stop it but I was watching it. It felt like me killing him. It was my power that did it. The Morningstar power isn't just in my body, it's, it's me, and… and Fenris used me." The angel shakes his head, as though to shoo the image away. "Nothing could have persuaded me to use such force if I didn't… want to, for some reason. Fenris affected my emotions, but they were my hands to do it."

Dream contemplates this for a long moment, holding back the instinctual indignance at the illogical. Lucifer is not thinking, but feeling the event. It is not his fault.

Lucifer, he says, very gently. You were forced to use the Morningstar ability to burn yourself, due to the feathers attached to your wings. According to Mazikeen. Is that not true?

Lucifer releases one of his hands to rub at the back of his neck. "I suppose so. It was more that I already had summoned the power, and I just found I could not use it."

You are willful, my love. Dream does not refrain from the diminutive, not this time. But you were caught off guard, weren't you?

"I should have been more alert," Lucifer mutters.

You were overwhelmed by a war on a stupendous scale. You could not have done anything better. Dream touches Lucifer's cheek. But you would rather think of it as your fault than admit to yourself that any being made you feel like you weren't in control.

Lucifer stiffens, eyes widening and glittering with gold flecks of power and alarm and tears. "Dream— I— don't. Please. Not now."

Dream relents, squeezes Lucifer's hand. He files this conversation away, noting it carefully. Alright. Deep breaths. Perhaps Mazikeen will be able to get through to him later on this particular topic.

Lucifer lets out shuddering breaths, and presses his free hand over his face, determined to move on from that. "You were a-asking why I left. I told you. I killed Michael, and I… I… couldn't…save you. And Mazikeen, Mazikeen was almost killed, too, of course. Elaine didn't want the job I trapped her in, for obvious reasons. I felt as though… as though everyone close to me was burning. Because of me. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't… I wanted to protect… everyone. From… me. If I could kill my own brother, then no one was—" His voice breaks— “safe."

Dream rubs his thumb over the top of Lucifer's hand, soothing. You could not have saved Morpheus. He… I… put the pieces in motion far too long ago for you to have had any hope of that. You should not blame yourself.

Lucifer grips his hand tightly, still covering his face with his other. "You told me that you'd always love me, but that you may not always be the person I loved, and that terrified me. I couldn't face you; I was too afraid of it being true. I was grieving you, and I was ashamed. Ashamed of not helping Morpheus, ashamed of grieving Morpheus, ashamed of not being brave enough to see you anyway. Everything hurt, and I needed it to… stop."

Mm. Dream stares at their linked hands.

"I couldn't stand even looking at myself." The self-loathing is audible, visible, miserable. "So… that's why I left. I thought… I thought I would just… disappear. And… I almost began to, I think, before…"

Before…?

"I met your brother, out there."

Dream takes a breath. Ah.

"He… he helped me. Talked to me. Made me realize… what I was doing, and he helped me come back."

For that I am grateful. Dream purses his lips. 

They sit with that for a minute or two.

I… Lucifer. I see two ways forward: that you should acknowledge that I was Morpheus, I retain the memories and the knowledge, or that you should attempt to see us as different, and start over… with me, if you choose.

"I can't start over," Lucifer replies, immediately. "I can't pretend that I don't love you, at least in part because I loved Morpheus." Lucifer tugs on his own hair, blinking at him. "It's just… hard to tell what has changed, and what hasn't. You're familiar, and new, at once. It is confusing."

It is confusing for me too, I assure you.

Lucifer takes his hand again. They lace their fingers together.

I found the Lucifer I met in Hell attractive, Dream says. I also thought him dangerous, and unstable, and I do not think I could have loved him as I love you. The Lucifer whose wings I cut from his back, who I carried from Hell and nursed back to health, was different from Hell's Lucifer. Not a different person, but a different aspect of you. A different mindset, or frame of reference. He spreads his fingers, still laced with Lucifer's. I do not know if you can love me as you loved Morpheus. Perhaps what you love of me was left behind, with the frame of reference that was him. But that is a different bridge to cross than the fundamental issue of my personhood.

Lucifer just looks at their hands for a while. Then, "That… that makes a lot more sense. It just… I miss when this was easy."

I… I do too. Dream shifts, and sighs. I… it has been hard… to try to convince anyone to see me. Even my sister… He trails off. Am I truly so changed? It feels, it feels as though I have shed a layer of dust from my skin. It feels as though I have merely recognized how my rules have hurt me. How values are more important than the exact laws we write down to attempt to codify them. Was I… was I loved for my adherence to rules, for my determination to follow them to the death? For my determination to hate myself? 

Lucifer shrugs. "It's more that… we watched you die. That is contradictory to you being here. Perhaps we have all exaggerated the differences. I do not know. But it felt drastic, so we see it as drastic, at least."

I see. That is not entirely different from your leaving, then. I suppose I should not expect to be forgiven for Morpheus's errors.

It's a harsh comment, but Lucifer takes it. "I have no expectation of forgiveness. Mazikeen mentioned to me the effect… the effect that leaving had on her. In many ways."

Dream is about to form a reply, something along the lines of ‘Effect’? Elaine stopped her from hurling herself— when he realizes Lucifer already knows, and that the comment is a riposte back at him.

I never meant to cause such distress—

"I'm tired of laying blame," Lucifer breaks in. "You were… Morpheus was in pain. If you are not, I am glad for you. I am tired of fighting."

Dream closes his mouth. Lucifer is right. Neither of them wants to have this argument. What do you want, Lucifer?

The angel considers.

Dream studies him. 

When Lucifer said he was broken, and sharp-edged, he meant it literally. It showed on his face and form. The Lucifer sitting in front of him is recognizable, certainly, but his hair is a little longer, his face a little softer. He carries himself differently. The effects of Hell will never wane from him, not entirely, but when Dream looks at his mind it’s brighter. It’s more well-formed and golden, no longer shrouded by purple shrieks or silent flashes.

Dream had thought that Lucifer was at peace, after leaving Hell. He now sees how far Lucifer has come since then. He wonders how much they will both change in the future.

"I want to find out," Lucifer says, finally. "I've been going off of so little. You ask me how much you have changed and I simply don't know, because I have not been around to find out." Well. At least he has the grace to look guilty about that. "I am here now. I enjoy your company. I… want to try being… with you again."

I would be more inclined to believe you, if we had had this conversation months ago. Dream can't help the bitterness from creeping into the words. It takes some effort to dismiss it. Nevertheless… I love you, of course. If you are willing to try, then… so am I. 

Neither of them speaks, for a long moment. They merely hold one another’s hands.

"Is that what you want?" Lucifer asks, quietly. "Me?"

Dream laughs, low and painful. He squeezes Lucifer's fingers tightly. Lucifer, I have done nothing but want you for over eleven years. Irregardless of the circumstances, I have not changed my mind, and I suspect I never will. 

Lucifer, who Dream knows is accustomed to believing himself unwanted, chokes up and blinks back tears. "That means more to me than you may ever know."