Chapter Text
Jealousy was not his thing – that was Leviathan’s; Satan was different. When things went astray, it irked him, got under his skin and left a sour taste in his mouth, sometimes even put a crinkle in his brow. Before, the slightest inconvenience could blow him up and leave a fire in the study, or a dozen knives lodged into the kitchen door, but he was older now. No longer was Satan the child with a short fuse. Decades of self-discipline taught him to be controlled, calmer, more mellow. One would not hear it from him, but he was ashamed of his past. A shaky childhood surrounded by rocky relationships with adults who did not want to be around him, scared he would explode and catch them in the crossfire. He was himself and no one liked it. He had to grow or he would be left behind.
In a way, he was proud of how far he had come. There was no cease to the compliments he would receive from family and friends alike – to have the most control over his own sin was impressive. Wrath was difficult to supress. Even until this day, the smallest of things would flare up his temper, yet he never let himself lose control. The bleeding stabs of nails in his palm and the tore up tongue when he would hold back from screaming something detestable, he never slipped.
He was better than that.
He had to be better than that.
Sometimes, however, it was easier to let go.
Simeon had dropped Luke off that morning. Duty called at Diavolo’s palace which required the angel’s assistance. Forbidding Luke to attend, there was no other place to house him than at the House of Lamentation, as Solomon was off doing who knows what in the human realm. Of course, Lucifer was apprehensive to taking the young angel in – he had mountains of paperwork to do and it was easy to tell he was a bit offended when Simeon explained the job did not require him.
Luke insisted he did not need any help from the demons. He was quite happy to busy himself with his own tasks he brought in his small rucksack.
Satan did not pay much mind to the child, their paths rarely crossed. The most he heard from him was the slamming of the kitchen door and the grumbles from the heartbroken Beelzebub.
“Who’s he think he is?” Belphegor remarked, flopped back against his headboard. The twin’s bedroom became a refuge for the family that day to stay out of Luke’s way. Levithan sat on a half dozen pillows in the corner of the room, his game console in his hand as Asmodeus painted his nails over Leviathan’s shoulder, blabbering useless tips for the game.
“Do you think he’ll make us something to eat?” lamented Beelzebub, clutching his stomach and looking like a sorely kicked puppy.
Mammon patted his back, “maybe Luci could work somethin’ out with him?”
“The old man’s probably forgotten he even let Luke in,” Satan said, closing the book in his lap. He only started the book the day before last and had already finished it. A satisfying conclusion, but rather quite tame. If he had a go at it, he would definitely had ran with the plot twist for much longer.
Leviathan jolted harshly, cheering loudly and swinging his console about. Asmodeus yelped, nail polish streaking up his arm. “Hey!”
“Mammon, get us some snacks,” Leviathan demanded, pointing at his brother. He was high off the win, adrenaline still coursing through his bloodstream and cancelled out any signs of anxiety.
“Why me?”
“You’re the oldest.”
“No way! I ain’t goin’ anywhere near that kid!”
Belphegor snickered, “what? Scared of a chihuahua?”
“You go get the snacks if yer gonna act like yer better than me!”
Satan stood. He tucked his book under his arm and shook his head, “how are you all older than me?” he sighed. “I’ll go. I need a new book anyways. Beel, come with me, you can carry the food.”
Beelzebub flicked a glance to Belphegor who threw up a lazy thumbs up. The air became lighter now that the prospect of snacks was introduced. Chatter between the brothers was eased, more hopeful. They thanked Satan as the two left. If anyone could stand up against the angel, it was Satan.
It wasn’t long to reach the kitchen. Three brisk knocks at the door, the two waited. Beelzebub, despite his size, was in reality a huge softie. The contrast always left a smile on Satan’s face. As much as he loved his weights, the delightfully sweet taste of cupcakes never failed to make his day.
“Luke?”
There was no answer. The two of them shared a look before Satan twisted the handle and pushed the door open.
“There’s no one here?” Satan asked, taking in the perfectly pristine kitchen. He was doubtful that the child had even been in there to begin with. Besides the cooling brownies on the counter, one would not be able to tell Luke was there at all. It was spotless, not a single speck of flour nor cracked shell in sight.
Beelzebub hummed in delight and moved on instinct.
Really, what was all the fuss about? How could they have been scared of Luke? The boy was half their heights. “If that’s all, then I’ll head to the library.” Satan adjusted the book under his arm, “you’re alright taking the food back without eating it all, right?”
“Sure,” breathed Beelzebub. He hardly took notice of Satan, forgetting him in favour of the food.
Unconvinced, Satan shrugged. He tried his best after all. He left the kitchen, walking to the library. He was not sure what book he would read next. There was so much to choose from that it was hard to decide on the spot. He recalled one book he spotted, one about vampires which could be entertaining, but he wasn’t so much in the mood for blood sucking monsters.
He entered the library without fault. With a quick check to the book’s author, he headed in the direction of the section he found it in. Maybe he should settle for a classic murder mystery, those were always fun to work out. Now that he thinks about it, there was that one about-
“A little bit higher!”
Satan rolled his eyes. The library was a place for peace and quiet, not childish games. Luke should know this by now, Simeon was his guardian after all. He slipped the book back into place and headed around the bookshelves, ready for confrontation when he heard that voice.
“Is this sufficient?”
“Yeah, but now you’re too far left! Go right! No, more right!”
What? Rooted to his spot, he couldn’t move. Surely it couldn’t be… he was busy with paperwork.
Lucifer let out a soft chuckle, much to Luke’s annoyance. Satan pressed his back up to the edge of the shelf, head inching closer to the edge to get a look. Sure enough, Luke was hoisted in Lucifer’s arms, his own arms outstretched to take a book down from the top row. Lucifer smiled as Luke struggled with the spine, his small fingers unable to hook onto it.
“A bit closer please!” Lucifer raised him higher and Luke managed to worm it out. “Got it!” he called and Lucifer helped him to his feet, a hand settling on his head, ruffling the hair. Luke flushed red, puffing out his cheeks and batting the hand away. “Stop that! I’m not a kid!”
Lucifer nodded, pulling his hand back to his side, “of course you’re not, my apologies.” He wore a soft smile, “I hope you find enjoyment in your book.”
Satan did not know what he was feeling. It was not jealousy, it wasn’t, because why would Satan be jealous of Luke over Lucifer? Lucifer was a stuck up, pretentious old man. Why would he care if Luke managed a smile out of the same man who refused to look at Satan for centuries after his birth?
He was once that age too, same height as Luke and probably wanted the same book. It was an awkward stage of his life. Wounds were still fresh from the fall and the majority of the brothers refused to acknowledge him. There would be days where no one would speak to him. Young and alone, there was nothing much to do apart from sulk, smash something or slip away into the spine of a book.
He wanted to be friendly towards Lucifer, Satan remembered the times he would knock at the door to his study, ask for the man and receive silence for an answer. He was too busy for him, said Mammon, taking his hand and walking him to the gardens, there was too much paperwork to be done and Luci wouldn’t let anything stop him before he finished.
It was a practice Lucifer still followed to this day.
Some lie that was.
Luke skipped down the aisle, book clutched to his chest as he found his place back at the small couch near the fireplace. He sat at the corner, pillows surrounding him as he got comfortable.
Satan sat there once.
It was the rare occasion where Lucifer was out of his office, searching for some academic text and wandered into the library with nothing else on his mind other than what he needed. Satan watched him walk in. The book in his hands was too advanced for even the likes of him. He left his place on the sofa, pillows falling away to the floor, and Satan made his way after Lucifer. He called out to the man, the name startled him, he flinched at the voice and froze, unable to look at the boy by his side.
“Can you help-” was all he managed before Lucifer snapped his head to him, an upturn lip, disgust pure on his face.
“I’m busy.”
Satan did not want to push his luck. If he left now, there was a chance Lucifer would help when he finished, as long as he gave him space. So, he returned to his seat at the corner of the couch. He fixed the pillows and sat with the book in his lap. He gazed about the library as he waited.
Minutes later, Lucifer’s steps echoed about the grand room. Satan sat up, spotting him coming. He watched Lucifer march through, books under his arm as he passed.
He did not spare a glance in his direction.
Satan never sat in the same spot again. He claimed it was too close to the fire, too uncomfortable. Everyone bought the excuse.
Luke sat, legs hanging over the edge. He flicked to the first page and frowned. Satan recognised the book instantly, it was the same one he held centuries ago. It was written in an ancient Devildom script, one he even struggled with when he was younger despite growing up with it. The only difference between then and now was Luke, totally unfamiliar with the text.
“What’s wrong with this book?” called Luke, huffing out and searching for Lucifer.
At least Satan could count on one thing – there was no chance Lucifer would help him when he was so busy with work.
Lucifer looked in his direction, slipping a book from the shelf and walking over to the sofa. He stood before the boy as Luke held the cover up.
“Do they not teach ancient texts anymore?” he asked.
Luke shook his head.
Lucifer sighed, setting his book on the armrest, and sat down beside the angel. He lifted the book from his hands and flicked through some of the pages. “Then I suppose I shall read this to you.”
What… was he doing? Satan backed up, retreating from the sight. Lucifer did not help people, it wasn’t in his nature to do so, right? He would scoff, turn his nose up at the pathetic attempt and return to his own work. He never helped Satan so why would he help an angel. There was nothing to gain from it.
If anything, Satan was confused, not jealous. What did Luke have that Satan did not? As far as he was aware, Lucifer hated children. That was the only explanation he reasoned with himself all those years ago. That’s why Lucifer didn’t like Satan.
His chest was tight. His heart pounded hard. Maybe he was mistaken – yes, that must be it. He misread the situation and his overthinking provided him with something outlandish. So, Satan looked again.
Arm to arm, Lucifer sat, book in his hand as he read the words aloud. Luke listened intently, following with Lucifer’s finger, hanging off his every word. Lucifer even wore his stupid reading glasses. A purely domestic sight, like father and son, it was nothing but soft and warm.
Satan wondered what his life would have been like if Lucifer read to him like that. It was not jealousy, just mere curiosity. If Lucifer acknowledged him when he was younger, would their relationship now be any different. Would Lucifer ignore Satan when he came to him with woes about himself? Help him when his mind spewed nothing but hate and horror? Offer a hug once in a while?
Luke wore a soft smile. Did he even realise what that meant to Satan? How he was living something Satan never had. Luke was just some angel. He wasn’t special. If anything, he was more annoying than Satan was when he was a child. It wasn’t jealousy speaking, but the truth, that’s what Satan thought to himself. He took the hint when no one wanted to be around him – yes, it hurt, but he’d rather distract himself with a book than wallow in his feelings any longer.
Luke took over their home as if he owned it, he knew the brothers were unhappy about it yet he claimed the kitchen and kicked them out to their rooms. He was a selfish brat.
“Satan?”
His name echoed inside his hollow chest. He watched Lucifer and Luke look up from their book and spot Mammon by the entrance to the library.
“Whoa, Luci? I thought ya had work to do?” Mammon stepped into the library and Satan whipped his head back.
“I do, however, I believe a break would help boost my productivity,” he answered, glancing down to Luke. “Why do you need Satan?”
Mammon gawked for a moment, then cleared his throat. “He’s not back yet, so I was checkin’ on him.”
“I have not seen him in the library,” Lucifer said, “maybe he’s in his room.” The words hurt Satan in a way he never thought he’d feel again. Why would Lucifer notice him, he never noticed him before.
“Um, yeah… Maybe…” Mammon trailed off, feel awkward. “Say, whaddaya doin’ with the chihuahua, anyways? Ya look like yer reading to yer kid.”
“I’m not his kid!” squawked Luke, reddening furiously. He shimmied away from Lucifer’s side, brows furrowed. “He’s reading to me because of your stupid language!”
“I suppose this does feel quite familiar, doesn’t it,” remarked Lucifer, ignoring the protests of the boy beside him. “Although, your hair would need to be another colour.”
“No, it wouldn’t!” he cried, swatting at Lucifer’s arm.
Lucifer laughed. He was so easy to tease.
A breath choked in his throat. It wasn’t jealousy, Satan repeated over and over, it… it was… he didn’t know. Of all the books he’d read, the knowledge he obtained, hundreds of contacts and thousands of interactions, he thought he had experienced every emotion possible. But this… this was new…
Why didn’t Lucifer laugh with Satan like that?
Why did Lucifer not like him?
Why did he act like Satan didn’t exist?
Simeon returned sometime before dinner and Lucifer invited him to stay. The dinner table was loud, boisterous with talk and laughter. Leviathan called Luke short and Luke retaliated as any child would. Lucifer and Simeon spoke about higher powers, lamenting upon their lost days between them, their new lives and their old. Asmodeus tapped away on his phone, the twins kept a conversation hush between them because no one other than themselves would understand what they were on about, and Mammon stared at Satan.
“Yer not eating.”
Satan flinched. How long had he been out of it for? He glanced to Mammon, noticing the concerned look on his face. “I don’t have an appetite,” he said. It was true, he did not feel like eating anything, there was a huge ball of gross emotions inside him that starved him of basic needs.
Mammon frowned, stabbing his fork through the loose vegetables on Satan’s plate. “What’s up? You sick?”
“No, Mammon. Drop it already.” He was sick of this conversation. The more he dragged it on, the more likely the others would notice and stick their noses in, give him their twopence about it.
Simeon, as a thank you gift for looking after Luke, prepared them all a meal. It was sweet of him to do so, a gift no one was expecting but happy to receive. Simeon was too kind for demons like them. Beelzebub had his plate demolished the second it touched the table, yet Satan could hardly look at his. On top of all the confusion inside his head, he did not need guilt weighing in on his mind too. He poked at the sandwich. The touch of the bread on his skin made his stomach flip.
“I can’t,” he breathed softly, pushing the plate away from him.
Mammon took the plate quickly, aware that people might start looking, and peered at him over his glasses. “Satan, bud-”
“Ah! Simeon!” Satan heard the young voice cry. He wanted to obliterate the table before him. He locked his hands together and dropped them to his lap, afraid he may explode. “I made something!”
Luke hopped from his chair and disappeared to the kitchen. Without Luke there, Lucifer smiled to Simeon, “he is eager.”
“Indeed,” Simeon grinned brightly. His smile lit the room. It was not hard to see how angelic he was, radiating pure sweetness with his presence. “He told me you two read together.”
Satan flicked over to the head of the table; he noticed a soft pink sponging Lucifer’s cheeks. “Yes, we did.” He looked embarrassed. “He was struggling with the language so I offered my assistance.”
Simeon nodded, “thank you,” he smiled, shoulders relaxed. “I think he appreciated it.”
Luke re-entered the dining hall, a tray covered with cupcakes weighing heavily on his arms. He struggled to look over the top of it as he wobbled to the table. “I made us cupcakes!” As he drew closer, Lucifer stood from his chair and helped the tray down. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
Simeon and Lucifer passed the cupcakes out. An orange one for Leviathan, purple for Belphegor, pink for Asmodeus. Every cupcake was crafted for the individual. Lucifer set a green one next to Satan wordlessly. Satan didn’t know why he expected something to be said.
It was a beautiful cupcake, perfectly presented with a cute, puppy dog paw printed wrapper. Satan ran his eyes up the neat frosting, round and round until it made a sharp point. He wanted to crush it. A flash of guilt hit him again. He shouldn’t take it out on Luke, as annoying as he may be. The child didn’t even know Satan wanted to punch him; he was totally oblivious to the wrath Satan felt towards him. He was just a child.
So were you, chided a voice.
Luke didn’t know any better.
Nor did you.
Luke only wanted someone to help him read.
So did you.
Satan stood, cupcake in hand and thanked Luke. Mammon’s eyes never left him, nor did the rest of the table until Satan had left the room. No one spoke of Satan’s quick disappearance when he was gone.
When conversations died down, Luke half draped in his chair from exhaustion and a friendly shake of hands between Lucifer and Simeon, Mammon took off through the halls. He knew Satan wanted to be alone, but he couldn’t help it.
As he rushed, he spotted green smeared on Lucifer’s office door. By the bottom of the door, he saw the wrapper, torn to shreds.
Anti-Lucifer League
Satan: We haven’t pulled a prank on him for a while.
Satan: I think it’s about time we strike while he thinks he’s safe.
Belphegor: Switch the salt and the sugar shakers?
Satan: No… old age has probably worn away his taste buds – he wouldn’t notice.
Satan: We need something big.