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The doors to the House of Lamentation creak deafeningly as Lucifer pushes them open. He cringes at the blaring sound, amplified in the quiet of night. With every step he takes, the floorboards groan in vocal complaint, only muffled once he reaches the grand rug.
During the day, he never noticed how noisy their house is, not with his brothers trying their darnedest to turn it into shambles. He’s certain that not a single one of the bricks holding up their residence is the same as it was when Lord Diavolo bestowed it upon them.
With a sigh, Lucifer runs his hand through his hair, practically feeling exhaustion burrow into his bones, and dark rings form under his eyes. The meeting with the Chamber of Lords lasted far longer than they all anticipated, and he can already sense the incoming headache after listening to their endless drivel.
He is content to drag himself to his room and collapse onto his bed for a few hours, when a faint light from the kitchen catches his eye.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, irritation boiling under his skin. “I swear to Lord Diavolo, Beel, if you’re raiding the fridge again, I will not hesitate to invite Solomon to treat you to a five-course meal. How many times—”
When his eyes don’t fall on his brother wrecking havoc onto their poor kitchen—thank the burning hell, he does not have the energy to deal with one of his brothers right now—Lucifer falls silent. Instead, he finds the exchange student. They sit at the table, asleep, crossed arms cushioning their head on the wooden top, a small lantern illuminating the room in a low light.
As he approaches the sleeping form, he watches the rhythmic rise and fall of their shoulders and the peaceful expression on their face. Lucifer brushes a light finger across their cheek, a fond smile tugging at his lips. The warmth of their skin spreads from his finger, enveloping him in a delicate hug and soothing the overwhelming exhaustion lurking in his veins.
“This is no place for you to sleep, my love.” He places a fleeting kiss on their head and carefully grabs the human, trying not to disturb their peace. But before he can lift and carry them back to their room, the exchange student stirs, eyes slowly opening. They blink at him, their gaze bleary, and it takes a few seconds before they even seem to recognize him.
“Lucifer?”
Their voice is heavy with sleep and slightly slurred, but they still reach out their hands, cupping his face with them.
He smiles, leaning a bit into the contact.
“Yes, it’s me. Go back to sleep; I’ll bring you to your room.”
They blink a few more times, their mind visibly struggling to process his words, before they shake their head.
He strokes their cheek again, slowly getting out of their grasp.
“It’s already late, let's go to sleep, alright?”
But before Lucifer can even attempt to lift them again, they stand up with sluggish movements, embracing him.
“You just came back, didn’t you?” they mumble against him, and he feels the movement and their breath against his clothes. Tired as they are, Lucifer can still hear the disapproval in their voice and with a sigh he returns their hug, his right hand resting on top of their head.
“Yes, I messaged you that you don’t have to wait for me.”
“Told you I would.”
He sighs, fondness betraying his feigned exasperation.
“You did.”
They stay like that for a few moments, and Lucifer’s hand traces mindless patterns into his lover’s back, until they squeeze him and step away from their hug. They fish out their D.D.D. and glance at its screen, grimacing, before they turn away and open the fridge.
“I’ve saved you some dinner,” they say, while rummaging through its myriad of contents, moving aside a lunch box labelled ‘Belphie’. Before Lucifer can even protest, the lie already on the tip of his tongue, they point an accusing finger at him.
“Don’t even try it. I’ve asked Barbatos to text me when, or rather, if you eat something.”
Lucifer’s mouth snaps shut and he grits his teeth. That traitor.
“Aha!” He hears the triumphant cry, and seconds later the exchange student emerges again, a plate in their hands. They mutter a spell, steam rising from the food and swirling in the air.
The corner of his mouth twitches upward as Lucifer shakes his head with a sigh.
“Come now, we own a perfectly fine stove.”
“It’s faster this way. You really should invest in a microwave,” they say, placing the plate on the table before pausing. “On second thought, it wouldn’t even survive a week in here.”
A small chuckle escapes Lucifer, and he raises his eyebrow, while the human pushes him down onto a chair.
“Oh? Who’d you think would be the first to break it?”
“Hm, it’s hard to say. Honestly, it could be any one of you. Don’t look at me like that; I’m not the one who accidentally tore down an entire chandelier because I was in a bad mood.”
“One time, it was one time.”
“Once is still one time too many.”
They blow a raspberry, a mischievous twinkle in their eyes, before they sit down next to him and nudge his arm playfully.
“Anyways, the most likely would be Beel, I guess? Or maybe Mammon or Satan on a bad day?” They pause for a second, eyes turned upwards in thought. “Nope, scratch that. It would be Belphie.”
“Belphie?” Lucifer asks, his tone incredulous.
“Yeah, trust me. You hear that thing’s hellish beeping once while you’re just about to fall asleep, and there’s nothing you’d rather do than shut it up forever.”
Lucifer smirks.
“Sounds like someone’s talking from experience.”
That earns him a playful kick against his shin, and he chuckles again.
“Shut it.”
They keep talking like that, hushed voices filling the kitchen, until halfway through his meal, Lucifer feels a weight softly settling against his side.
“This is nice.” The human’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. “We rarely have time to talk like this with the others around. I love them, they’re family, but it’s nice to just spend some quiet time with you. Away from all the chaos.”
Lucifer’s expression softens, one hand finding his lover’s and squeezing it gently.
They stifle a yawn, the lantern illuminating their features in a gentle, glowing light, its flame reflecting off of their skin. A warm, tender feeling wells up in his chest—like rays of sunshine, a soft piano tune—running through his veins. It’s like a soft bed after a long day, the sound of his brothers at the dinner table, happy, safe and full of life. It’s home.
The feeling nearly chokes him, embracing him in the most tender, loving hug. And if this is what it feels like, Lucifer doesn’t think he’ll ever need to breathe again.
He squeezes their hand again, voice matching theirs.
“It is. But you should go to sleep, it’s late. We can continue this another time.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Silence blankets their little bubble, the only sound the soft clinking of tableware.
It doesn’t take long before the human’s breathing evens out, their shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm against his side.
Lucifer watches them for a few seconds, warmth bubbling beneath his skin, as he brushes the ghost of a kiss against their head.
When morning comes, they’ll both be thrown back into their chaotic life, chasing after his brothers and whatever mess they got themselves into this time.
And even though he wouldn’t trade their rowdiness—his family—for anything in this world, he will savour this rare quiet in his heart, saving it for when he needs strength. Needs to be reminded that it was all worth it, that he needs to protect this peace, no matter what.