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Lucifer had been blessed with wings. Or perhaps it was a curse. Still, after all these years, he wasn’t sure which statement was true.
He spouted 4 large wings, something he prided himself on. Sleek black feathers always pristine and in place whenever he needed to transform. They showed authority and power, they demanded respect from others and Lucifer valued those aspects.
However, wings needed to be taken care of.
In fact, all demonic features needed care. The first few months after the fall were a mess. Six angels turned into demons, trying to handle the devildom atmosphere, having to get used to the new changes their bodies were going through. And of course, a new-born demon child, blissfully unaware of what was going on. Or maybe he knew exactly what had happened, Lucifer had never bothered to ask Satan about his memories of childhood and decided it wasn’t worth his time to look back now.
Despite his back feeling significantly lighter due to the loss of one pair, he considered himself at least slightly lucky at the time. None of his brothers had been blessed with wings up in the celestial realm, so this was a major change for them. He still tries to forget the screams and whimpers he heard when they were transforming into their demon forms for the first time. Lucifer had grown up with his set, he remembers when he had been gifted them How delicate they were. How he would care for them with such love and tenderness. So, at least in this aspect, Lucifer had been given a slight head start.
Mammon and Asmodeus had sprouted sleek wings. He would’ve thought Mammon would at least have crow feathers or something similar, considering his situation. However, that assumption was wrong, instead the second born had bat like wings, fragile white bone framing them. His were larger than Asmo’s, however Asmo had four wings instead of two. He also had no exposed white, just a deep velvety black running through them.
The final brother to have wings was Beelzebub. He had a pair of wings that were akin to an insect. Translucent enough that you could see your hand if you waved it on the opposite side. How Beel had managed to care for his wings without even a tear was beyond Lucifer. He was just grateful that his younger sibling was careful enough to not get them damaged. All his brothers had their own way of caring for themselves. He remembers the help they were given just after the fall, the facts that were laid out for them. The other brothers that didn’t have wings instead donned tails and learnt how to look after them instead. And when Satan was old enough to show off his demonic features, he was taught the proper care too. These features, including their horns, needed attention, they were sensitive things after all.
The problem with Lucifer’s wings though, was the fact that they were made up of feathers. This is where his doubt appears, questioning whether these wings were really a blessing or a curse. They required much more care than the sleek, smooth wings. Having to sit down and preen himself, making sure every feather was lined up in place. Any outliers gently pulled out. It was a hassle, really. A hassle that took time away from Lucifer’s work.
Despite his want to just leave his wings forever, he didn’t. The threat of an important occasion popping up, or an unwanted battle he would have to participate in stopping him from doing so. He needed to be presentable for Diavolo. He vividly remembered an occasion where he had let his guard slip, ending up with Diavolo’s soft hands running through his charcoal feathers. The blush that stained his cheeks as the demon Prince whispered sickly sweet words into his ear. How close and personal that night had been. A night of vulnerability that he vowed to not experience again.
Lucifer groaned, rubbing a gloved hand over his face, pushing away the memory.
He wondered why he had even allowed his mind to wander in the first place. His desk was covered by strewn-out paperwork, empty boxes that needed to be filled with ink. Yet he had let himself indulge in a slight trip down memory lane, thinking of wings and tails and feathers. Really, he should focus but there was a throbbing behind his eyes and an ache in his neck that just wouldn’t allow him to continue.
It was the slight twinge he felt in his back, a tightness he couldn’t quite place. Yet his mind had already subconsciously submitted the answer. He knew why wings were on his mind, the fact that he hadn’t touched his in such a long time had caused his mind to step up and remind him full force that once again he had let his care slip. It had been about- if he could remember correctly- just over a month since he had last touched his feathers. It was unprofessional of him, he already knew that, considering it was an activity he had been doing weekly since he first grew his wings. He remembered how Michael had shown him how to do to it, wordlessly understanding that Lucifer would’ve rather died than ask verbally for help. He was taught how to do it all by himself, just the way he wanted.
Unfortunately, illness was still common, even among angels. So, whenever he fell sick (which as an angel was more often than he would care to admit) his brothers stepped up in order to help him. Or perhaps he had overworked himself with orders from his higher-ups and Mammon would notice that he was practically falling asleep standing up. Times like those, when he was too tired to protest, his siblings would offer aid.
Lilith had beautiful wings. They were delicate yet elegant, her feathers would shimmer as the golden rays hit her. Her purity made heads turn. A part of Lucifer mourns for the pure wings they once had. Now one set speckled with blood, the other stained with a sinful darkness. He wonders if his little sister would appreciate his wings now. He remembered faintly; slender fingers that she would run through his wings whenever she wanted to. He knew he could trust her. She was always so positive about all of them, always praising their features at any given chance. A part of him hopes that she’d do the same if she were to see them all now. Another part of him doesn’t believe she would.
With a sigh, he stood. It was no good sitting here lamenting over memories he would never get back. He could deal with his wings later; he was sure of it. Just one more night of work wouldn’t hurt him. He decided to ignore the fact that “one more night of work” had been his motto for the past several weeks, causing him to end up in this situation in the first place.
With all that was happening in the devildom right now, juggling his already existing paperwork and his unruly group of brothers, was enough to keep him on his toes. He didn’t have the luxury to stop and breathe. Instead, he decided that a coffee would have to suffice for now. It would help push him for a few more hours, allowing him to squeeze in more work that he just couldn’t afford to put on hold at the moment.
He glanced at the clock as he left his study, the hands pointing at 10 to midnight, so he still had plenty of time. He had passed Satan in the living room. The blond was buried in a book once more, the fireplace glowing gently. They glanced at each other briefly before Lucifer continued. He left him to it.
The kitchen was unusually quiet, which was a pleasant thing of course. It allowed him to make his coffee in peace. He silently cursed at himself as he saw the way his fingers slowed. The ache in his hands becoming prominent, a sore indent from where his pen had been resting for who knows how long. Lucifer knew logically that he should turn to a cup of tea instead and hide himself away in his bedroom or even the music room. He knew if he saw any of his brothers in such a tired state, he would scold them gently and send them to rest somewhere immediately. He was a hypocrite; he just would never admit it. The thought of resting now did sound nice but he fought off the notion. He was the eldest of the seven brothers, one of the strongest demons the Devildom had ever seen. If a month of restless nights and barely passable naps were to take him down, then his whole reputation would come crashing with it.
So, he massaged his temple and flexed his hands, picking up the mug.
He had been so absorbed in the task that he hadn’t heard the footsteps enter the kitchen. To be fair, the second born was stealthy to begin with, Lucifer knew this. It was an impressive talent to have, to move without making a sound. So, it was no surprise that he could sneak up on Lucifer like this.
Lucifer had just wished that he was more aware of his surroundings so he wouldn’t have made such a fool of himself.
He had turned only slightly, feeling the presence of someone who wasn’t there just moments ago. It had altered him, though he hated to admit it. However, his body betrayed his false composure as he felt himself swivel around, mug slipping out from fingers as said fingers transformed into claws.
Lucifer prided himself on many things. He was the embodiment of pride, after all. His self-control was one of them. No matter what the situation was, he managed to fight off primal desires that were just outright immature. He doesn’t remember the last time he let himself slip and his demonic features show without even realising.
However, as porcelain hit the floor, smashing into tiny shards, he realised far too late that he had become alert. That his wings were brushing the side of the kitchen cupboards, that his horns were pressing ever so slightly onto the side of his head. His scarlet eyes met cool blue ones, hidden behind a familiar gold tinted set of glasses.
Both demons stood there for a second, both not sure on what to do next. Lucifer cursed himself internally for allowing this to happen. Mammon waited, unsure whether he should make the next move. He was now aware that Satan was at the door, obviously intrigued by the commotion.
Lucifer was ready to shift back, apologise briefly for his outburst and then leave quickly-
“When was the last time ya preened yer wings?” He was taken aback by the question. Mammon’s eyes displayed genuine concern; his eyebrows furrowed together.
“I don’t see how that is any of your business,” Lucifer snapped back, he wasn’t sure why he had gotten so defensive, but he decided it was the best course of action to get out of this mess.
“I think it is!” The younger demon exclaimed, “ya look like shit!”
He heard Satan snicker after the comment. Rolling his eyes, he tried to push past Mammon, “someone clean this up, I have work I need to finish.” A hand grasped his wrist, the movement quick and tight. It stopped him in his tracks, “Mammon let go of me.”
There was beat of silence, “I will if you change back into your other form.”
Lucifer found himself sighing; if this was all it took to escape then so be it. He closed his eyes and took in a breath. When he opened them, he still saw the black feathers framing the corners of his vision. Frowning, he repeated the process, the same outcome happening once more. Lucifer knew what Mammon was doing. If a demon was too exhausted, they couldn’t hide their demon form, it just became too taxing for them. It was frustrating how vigilant his younger brother was when it came to things like this.
“So, you knew that would happen?” Lucifer managed to push his words past gritted teeth.
“Luci, you tell us to look after ourselves but look at you,” Mammon chastised, and Lucifer couldn’t believe how the roles were reversed right now. How soft spoken his brother was. How humiliating this whole ordeal was.
“I’ll be fine-”
“No, you won’t be, you’re coming with me,” This was an order and if Lucifer was even a little bit more aware of everything right now, he would have punished Mammon for commanding him like this. There was a tug on his wrist, and he was dragged to the living room, “Satan, are you coming?”
He almost forgot there was a one-man audience viewing his every move. Of course, it had to be someone who would gladly use this whole event as blackmail material in the future. It added insult to injury.
He allowed himself to get pushed onto a large footstool. Mammon sitting down behind him on the sofa. He heard Satan sit down too, feeling the burning gazes on his back. Judging eyes that Lucifer would much prefer to shy away from. If only he had stayed in his study and continued his work. A hand swiped over the base of his wings, causing him to jolt at the sensation.
“Mammon, I would rather not do this-”
“Oh, shut yer trap Lucifer,” Mammon interrupted, “yer a stubborn demon and haven’t answered me yet.”
Lucifer grimaced as his body betrayed him once again, leaning into the touch. His silence signalled Mammon to pester him even more, “well, when was the last time ya preened?”
“We haven’t seen his demon form in at least a month,” Satan oh so helpfully pointed out.
Lucifer frowned, “have you been keeping tabs on me Satan?”
“Of course, would you expect any less from me?” There was some inaudible whispering behind him before the blond continued, “do you see how he didn’t deny the month comment though?”
“I do.” Mammon agreed.
None of them spoke. Lucifer wouldn’t dare say anything that could make him sound guilty of what they were accusing him of. He felt the hands retract and he wondered if his brothers felt bad for him and decided to leave him alone. Whilst he would hate to have to succumb to pity, he’d rather do that than have unwanted hands caressing his wings.
“Satan, do ya know how to preen?”
Lucifer immediately went to stand, firm hands pushed his shoulders back down, “Lucifer you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
“Mammon if you don’t let me leave right this instance, I will hang you from the ceiling for two weeks straight.”
Mammon chuckled at the threat, he actually laughed, “unfortunately I don’t think yer fit for that right now.”
Lucifer crossed his arms, grumbling to himself.
--
Satan honestly didn’t know what to do. He was always so calculating and careful with his decisions. Yet here he sat, behind Lucifer and next to Mammon and he wasn’t quite sure what his next move was going to be.
Whilst this whole situation had been highly entertaining from his perspective so far, now he was more interested in Lucifer. Not in a caring way- don’t misinterpret his feelings- but more so in a “I wonder why he hates being preened by anyone” sort of way.
Mammon had asked if Satan knew how to preen wings. He vaguely did, eons ago he had read a book about birds of prey and that was mentioned in one of the chapters. It was stored somewhere in his mind. Yet the more pressing issue was why would Mammon want him to preen the wings? It wasn’t as if he and Lucifer were close, in fact quite the opposite. Preening, if he recalled correctly, was done with a sense of closeness. It was done to show care. He would’ve imagined that Lucifer would rather perish than have any of them touch his prized wings, especially Satan.
Yet a mischievous part of him wanted to play along. Wanted Mammon to show him the ropes so he could run his hands through the feathers. He can’t remember the feel of them, the last time he had touched them was probably when he was young, so an eternity ago.
It wouldn’t be done viciously, of course not. Whilst he tries to forget it, he remembers when Lucifer helped him tend to his tail after a nasty battle. It wasn’t like he had wanted his brothers to know but the thin trail of blood and the pained grunts he made alerted the eldest. Tails were just as sensitive as wings, he knew this. They both knew that. So, Lucifer has offered help with no room for an argument and Satan, begrudgingly, allowed him to do so.
He was grateful that the elder demon didn’t mention it again. No words had been exchanged that night. Lucifer hadn’t even asked him where he had gotten the injury. He had instead quietly completed the task and then left without a word.
So of course, part of Satan wanted to preen his wings because of that reason. Not as in a kind and caring way (well at least that’s what he told himself) It was more repaying the favour- he hated having to owe people things.
Also, a part of him wanted to watch Lucifer squirm uncomfortably, displeased by the situation.
Of course, that latter part of Satan spoke louder.
Lucifer and Mammon have been quietly arguing back and forth, Satan having paid no attention to the squabble. He decided to interrupt them, hands hovering over feathers, “you start at the base, right?”
He could see the way Mammon’s eyes sparkled, a hint of mischievous joy lighting them up. Whilst he wouldn’t outwardly admit it, he found this part of Mammon rather endearing. A totally different side to the greedy demon he knew all too well. His tan hands approached Satan’s pale ones, hesitating as if to ask if he could touch them. Satan nodded, allowing Mammon to guide him to the base of the wing.
“You gotta be gentle, alright?” He instructed, moving their fingers in a repetitive motion across the first area of fluff, “these little guys are fragile.”
“Mammon I-” Lucifer’s complaint fell short as he stilled suddenly.
Satan usually could read Lucifer like a book. They were (unfortunately) two sides of the same coin. They knew each other far too well for Satan’s liking. However, as Lucifer stilled Satan wasn’t sure why. Pain, perhaps? But Satan was sure Mammon wouldn’t let him hurt Lucifer, the second born was stupid but he wasn’t dumb enough to do something that would hurt any of his brothers intentionally. Maybe it was embarrassment, which wouldn’t surprise him. Or perhaps it was shock, reality settling in that this really was happening.
Satan continued along the short feather; Mammon’s hands having retreated by now. Lucifer hadn’t moved since, not even a flinch or a twitch. He reached the very edge, carefully smoothing out feathers, picking at dirt, making sure everything was as perfect as Lucifer would want it to be. As he slowed to a stop, Mammon pointed to the feathers below, starting again at the ones closest to Lucifer’s body.
Calloused hands pushed the first feather to the side and that’s when it happened.
The softest of warbles sounded from deep within Lucifer’s throat.
It was barely audible but because the three had reverted to sitting in silence, it was as clear as day in the moment. Satan had never, never, heard a sound like that from a demon. Especially if that demon was Lucifer.
Mammon giggled quietly; Satan could see the amusement written all over his face. He was obviously prepared for something like this. Satan decided to continue, shaking his head slightly. He got through another few feathers before another sound pushed past Lucifer’s lips.
A chirp.
Now, Satan had not been expecting that.
It almost sounded content. Pleased. Almost tender. Satan was still struggling to read Lucifer, the only sound he had received in several minutes were… bird sounds.
Leaning over slightly, he stared at the oldest brother. For a brief second his ruby eyes met his, before darting off into a completely different direction. Blush spread across his cheeks, warm and rosy. He was most certainly embarrassed.
Dots seemed to connect themselves, Lucifer had stilled earlier in hopes that he wouldn’t make a sound.
Satan had to refrain from mocking his brother right there and then.
He leant back, resuming his job. The next time a chip sounded, Satan decided to not stop. He could tell Lucifer was having some sort of internal battle. As he moved along, he heard a muffled trill. A gloved hand had reached Lucifer’s lips, Satan brought his own to a stop.
“Should I continue?” He asked innocently, knowing full well bringing attention to this would embarrass the elder demon further.
“You should,” Mammon encouraged, “he gets like this, it’s all normal.”
Lucifer’s hand moved down to his side, “I disagree, I think we should stop th-”
He stopped mid sentence, a chirp coming out instead of words. A defeated warble sounding out as he put his head in his hands. Satan snickered, his fingers returning to the feathers, Mammon reached up to do the top wing on the other side.
The two worked their way through the wings, Lucifer not once raising his head from his hands. The bird sounds increased, being muffled only by the gloves. Satan wished he had recorded this, he could just imagine Belphie absolutely losing it if he were to hear it. It would also be the best blackmail material he had obtained in a while.
He was nearing the end of the second wing, Mammon not far behind. Despite starting far later, it was clear this wasn’t his first time doing this. Satan wondered if back in the Celestial realm Lucifer was far more vulnerable than he was now. He couldn’t imagine it. But then again, he hadn’t experienced the celestial realm, so who was to say for sure what all his brothers were like back then. All he had were the stories and tales passed onto him.
He had noticed how Lucifer had become more relaxed. Sure, the humiliated feeling still lingered in the air, but his shoulders had now dropped. His back seemed to unknot itself with each passing minute. Satan was never aware at how- well, how animalistic Lucifer could get. Not in a barbaric or vicious way. He had seen that many times before, he knew what could happen. He was his wrath, after all. This side though, he had never imagined seeing. In fact, he would have never known it had existed if it hadn’t been for tonight’s shenanigans. Bird instincts acting out without permission. How he leant into the touch, betraying his words of affirmation that he doesn’t need help.
It would explain a few things. Lucifer’s ability to almost suffocate them with his protectiveness, it could be explained in relation to a parental bird protecting its family. He wondered if Lucifer had ever had the urge to build a nest. He found the idea quite humorous. He wondered if all the times that Lucifer had rejected any form of hug or physical contact, he had secretly wanted to say yes. Like some terrible, deep desire that he fought to hide. Satan had seen a documentary about how birds were close knit groups. A flock, he remembers the narrator saying. Were they all part of his flock? Was he a part of his flock? He couldn’t help but cringe at the idea. Nose scrunching up in distaste. It didn’t sound like Lucifer at all. Then again, none of what was happening right now was like Lucifer at all.
The aforementioned demon was almost asleep, to Satan’s surprise. Light breaths weaving their way between a low coo, or a quick warble.
He felt Mammon watch him, as the white-haired demon finished the last few feathers.
“Ya know, he only does this around people he trusts.”
Satan turned to his brother; one eyebrow raised quizzically.
“I’m being serious,” Mammon continued, “he only gets like this when others preen him. Only around those he trusts.”
Lucifer stirred slightly, head lifting. “Shut up Mammon.”
“Yer not denying it.”
Lucifer went to rebuttal, yet a satisfied chirp sounded instead. He sighed and Satan wasn’t sure if it was out of annoyance or content. A potential mixture of both.
Mammon leant over, voice barely a whisper, “I’m serious, he’s not running away and hiding his problems because it’s us who offered to help.”
“He probably trusts you,” Satan pointed out. He wasn’t about to act like it offended him that Lucifer cared more for the second born. It wasn’t as if he was secretive with the fact. Lucifer prominently had a soft spot for Mammon. All of them knew that. Well, except Mammon, who just so happened to be unbelievably oblivious.
“Nah. It’s both of us. If not, then he would’ve left,” Mammon corrected, “he feels safe around ya.”
The phrase echoed in his head. Bouncing around as if his mind couldn’t quite absorb the meaning of it. It was confusing, to say the least. Lucifer? Safe? Satan and Lucifer had a relationship where neither of them should really feel this open around each other. It was as if he had witnessed some unusual sense of vulnerability that, really, he should not have seen.
He hadn’t noticed Lucifer stand up, but now he realised the eldest was staring at him. Those piercing eyes that didn’t seem to look down on him judgingly. They studied his face, seemingly at ease. He felt his cheeks flare up, an unfamiliar warmness.
“I suppose I should thank you?” Lucifer spoke slowly, Satan could tell he was smothered in drowsiness. He was sure the eldest had long forgotten about the smashed mug and his only thought now was to sleep.
“Don’t,” Satan stated, “I’d rather you not do that.”
Lucifer smirked, “alright, if you insist.”
It was as if there was now a mix of two types of people. The quiet side he had just seen and the snarky, sarcastic student council member. Almost teasing Satan by how he was caught off guard by Mammon’s previous comment. Lucifer headed towards the door, stopping just before it. “You know, Mammon was completely correct with what he said.”
Satan could almost hear the annoying smile that was plastered across Lucifer’s stupid face. Before he could even come up with a kicking remark about anything that had happened tonight, Lucifer was already gone.
“That bastard,” he muttered, aware of how the blush still stuck to his cheeks, “has no right trying to tease me like that.”
A hand playfully slapped him on the back, “well yer seen it now! I don’t know when we will see that side of him again but do what ya want with all that information.”
Satan just blinked at Mammon.
His older brother grinned, “goodnight, Satan, see ya later.”
With that, Satan was left alone. He thought about how maybe he should unpack everything that had happened tonight. To be completely honest, he didn’t want to understand what he was feeling, he was perfectly content with being a little puzzled. For once, he wasn’t angry at himself for not understanding something.
Maybe he would mock Lucifer tomorrow at breakfast. He’ll enjoy seeing the eldest become flustered after the previous night’s events.
“He feels safe around ya.”
He put his thoughts on hold for a moment. On second thought, maybe just this once, he could let the blackmailing slide. Besides, who needs to bring something so silly up? He could think of other ways to embarrass the first born. And besides, there were only two of them witnessing this side of Lucifer. So really, what the others don’t know won’t hurt them.
With that settled, he decided against continuing his book. He wouldn’t take in the plot anyway. Instead sleep sounded like the better option.
…
“He feels safe around ya.”
He pushed whatever warm feeling that was residing in his chest down. He ignored the blush that still hadn’t dissipated. Yeah, sleep sounded like a good plan.