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Vincent didn’t know how long it’d been since the Radio Demon shot down his offer. Well, actually, that was a bold-faced lie. He did. Five months, four days, and nineteen hours... But hey, who was counting? Hell was a shockingly busy, lonely place without his favorite demon at his side, meeting for drinks and cackling at endless, corny jokes. Nothing really felt the same now, but that was the cost of thinking he could trust the redheaded bastard. Ugh. Vincent was quiet as heeled boots clicked against the upturned cobblestones and broken concrete pavement, the odd mismatch of eras torn asunder. Reddish vines were cropping up in the festering gaps left behind, like the memory of that fucker’s laugh that still rang in his non-existent ears. He was on his way home after a few drinks, far fewer than he meant to have. He’d smoked a few cigars, chatted up some pretty-looking succubi, and honestly, he’d had a good night. So why did he still feel so goddamn hollow?
The CRT-headed demon autonomously walked along the path to his apartment, shoulders hunching as he kept electrical blue orbs locked on the ground. Ahead of black leather, a few stones skittered away from his feet, disrupted. Screaming and yelling were par for the course for the Pride Ring, so he chose to ignore it at first, his stomach tightening into a warped ball. The serial killer knew the sound of someone desperate, though, and it made his heart race below his open vest and the dark fabric covering his chest. Come on, he told himself. Just walk away. He really should. Yet, Vincent found his screen dimming, feet leading toward the noise as he exhaled. He was determined to satisfy his curiosity and nothing more.
A short man with feathers as bright as snow was pinned to the ground by a handful of sinners. Those large wings beat, making a gust and knocking over the lids of the overfilled trash cans along the brick walls. The smell was immediately terrible, but not for the TV-headed demon. Frowning, Vincent's face pulled into a grimace of annoyance. Antennas sparking as he lifted his head, he took a deep breath, pushing brimstone-laden air out from his vents. Both hands lifted to correct his business-casual attire from his night out. The navy button-down cotton longsleeve was pulled up to his elbows, revealing navy skin. Collar a little rustled from a bit of necking with a lady who’d turned him down after he’d shocked her by accident, Vince curled a clawed hand into a fist.
“Hey, why don’t you leave a little for the rest of us?” he called out as sharply-heeled boots hit the uneven mess of stones. Static was leeching from his body in an oppressive wave, making the hair stand up on those around the panting blonde. Those big wings flexed again defensively, golden-banked crimson eyes flicking up as they filled with further dread. Fucking idiots. Attacking a winged sinner was pretty cheap, but he didn't know the story for why yet. Honestly, he didn't really care. When the group didn’t immediately back off, Vincent grinned, shark-like teeth brightening his interface as hunger ignited his system. Extending his other hand as one remained clutched at his side, he counted down from five internally. One of the little gang backed up, sensing the danger as the smell of ozone seeped out and overtook the tight space. Wet with golden blood not his own, he turned to high-tail it out of the alley. Before the smug fuck got even four steps away, Vincent zapped himself in front of the shorter man, and his fist connected with the sinner’s face.
From the viewpoint of the heavy, worried angel on the ground, all he could make out was that another demon was joining the fray. He seemed cocky and cruel, blue sparks dancing off of him. As the new face took care of each and every one of them, not a single one was allowed to slip away. A big, blue, clawed hand tore the last one off of him. The hooved blonde gasped as he skittered back against the brick, withdrawing those large wings at long last. They ached, but it wasn’t as problematic as he’d expected it to be. Nothing broken.
Vincent pushed out a low, relieved laugh as he stood up straight, wiping blood from the side of his screen. Flicking it off and away, a cable-like tail slowly receded, tucking itself away into safety much like those wings. Putting both hands on his lower back, he shoved against his own spine and arched, feeling his rickety spine pop. Sighing in relief as he tried to ignore how he both felt his age and yet didn’t, he started to walk toward the bloodied blonde, the sharp blue glow of his display softening down.
“Well, that was fun,” the navy-skinned sinner commented as he let out a small, playful chuckle that glitched while it exited his speakers. Cyan depths landed on the shaky man against the wall. Huh. Pale skin with red cheeks that reminded him almost of a doll greeted him. Blinking a few times, a dark brow raised off his screen and disappeared into the topmost edge. “Hey..you don’t look too hot.” Before he could stop himself, Vincent reached out, both hands planting on the shaking angel’s shoulders. Guy looked ready to fall over.
Whistling low, he frowned slightly at the blood coating the man's clothing. “Did you just…?” he trailed off for a moment, then snorted lightly. “Did you not hit back at all? Jiminy Cricket, baby. That’s a recipe for disaster if I’ve ever known one. And trust me, I know a lot of 'em.”
Taking in the state of his newfound companion, red eyes banked in gold flicked up. Blinking, he was at a loss for words. This sinner downright slaughtered the others, in fact. While the king was immune to their true harm, it didn’t mean he wasn’t unbothered. In fact, he could feel himself shaking from the point of contact of those large navy hands holding him steady against the layers of brick and mortar behind him. Adrenaline. Of course. It would wear down, eventually.
But the demon had spoken, and Lucifer didn't want to face any more issues tonight. “I didn’t..want to hurt them,” he lied with a shaky breath as he looked away. “It's not in my nature.” Well. That wasn't a total lie to bank with, at least. Wounded pride made his small shoulders slump before he could stop it. The man’s lips fell into a frown before he licked over the bottom one with a forked tongue.
“Really?” asked the TV-headed demon as he tilted his screen, tone falling into a more amused glimmer. “I’m sure you woulda whipped their asses, had you wanted to.” That earned the strange-looking guy a glare from big, crimson eyes. Vince pulled his hands away then, but offered his right hand as he schooled his features. “Look. Let’s get you outta here, eh pal? You should ice your cheek before it bruises. It’ll look nasty come daybreak.”
Crimson hues locked to the hand, confused before he lifted them further. The odd-looking sinner offered a lopsided, snaggletooth smile, and it eased the angel's nerves more than he wanted it to. Nodding, a sinfully dark hand took the offered embrace, stumbling on his hooves briefly before he found his footing like the goat his lower half echoed. Echoing red tow pads spread underneath the devil's sparse weight.
True to his word, the demon led him out of the alley. They walked in quiet, with Vincent rambling on and Lucifer keeping his mouth mostly shut. When Vince couldn’t convince the man to tell him where he lived, he instead dragged the angel back to his own apartment. As he unlocked it and had to shove open the heavy door with his shoulder, he held it open for the smaller man to enter his unflattering abode. Entering with a disinterested hum, the blonde made eye contact again for the first time in ten minutes. He cleared his throat, moving to wipe his hooves on the mat before he turned.
“I’m Lucifer,” he greeted, a long black tail moving to wrap itself tightly around his knee and calf in a self-soothing manner. “Thank you. F-for stepping in. You…” Pausing, red eyes tracked over the sinner who was taking off a bloodied jacket and hanging it up as if it were a normal routine. Wincing, he looked away. “You still have, uh… parts on you.”
Vincent blinked at that, then brushed it off with a grimace, screen darkening in distaste. “Well, Lucifer,” he said with a small disbelieving scoff. “I’m Vincent. You’re just lucky I was trying to drink myself into feeling better and wanted to finish doing so at home.” Vince collapsed onto the couch with a gruff. The furniture gave an angry, low protest, but held the larger man's added weight steady.
Lucifer felt gross in his bloodied clothing. After a moment of failing to wipe away the golden splashes, he snapped his fingers to replace the clothing with a clean set. The noise drew Vince’s gaze, perking a brow. Then, the little blonde moved to sit down, pushing his way onto a cushion and making Vincent close his legs a few inches. Why mortal men did that, Luci'd never understand.
“My wife and I are fighting lately,” the smaller man spoke up. The dark fabric of his pants almost blended with the fall-burned shade of his hands as they fisted on his knees. “I don’t know where, or when, we stopped talking. We did the things everyone else talks about. W-we even had a baby, and yet I-I… I feel more alone than ever. My daughter’s growing up, and I don’t..don’t know how to cope with that.”
Peeling open digital lids, Vincent offered the man at his side a worried frown. Brow furrowed, he tilted his head, neck achy. “Didn’t think demons could have kids,” he retorted with a raised brow, the dark curve almost lifting up and off of his screen. The man at his side blinked for a moment, breath catching before he let out a tiny, surprised gust of air, shaking his head. The man was trying not to laugh.
“I.. We’re a special case,” Lucifer offered instead, face falling with ancient ache as he looked toward the wall. A few vinyls littered it, as if someone else had once decorated the place. “It’s… I’m just not coping well. I never have, not with…Sudden change. Charlie's already over a hundred, and she…doesn’t need me as much as I’d hoped.” Red eyes fell toward the floor, the messy rug looking almost soft enough for the angel to want to collapse onto that instead of the couch. He deserved far less than both.
Vincent hummed as he moved to rub at Lucifer's small, tight shoulder, hand dwarfing the curve. “So, what was gettin’ your ass beat up by a bunch of demons gonna do that ‘bout that?” he asked with a snort and half a smirk, tilting his bulky head toward his guest. “Not that I minded, I rather like getting to tear apart some assholes who need a little lesson in respect. But you weren’t, uh…” The aspiring TV star let out a barking laugh, a zap of blue discharge cresting between the red balls on the tips of those wobbling antennas.
“I can’t,” the angel said with a frustrated growl, lavender lips curved down into an embarrassed frown. “I can’t hurt them. It’s part of my damnation. I started it, I gotta live with them.”
Now that was jarring, and Vincent’s laugh cut off.
“Pardon?”
Lucifer looked up after he took a deep breath. “I told you my name, Victor.”
“Vincent.” Still, he blinked in shock as he tried to make sense of it. The guy on his fucking couch claimed he was Lucifer, the very real devil? He was a fucking shrimp, with barely any real social skills to boot! Vince ran his tongue over the cave of his shark-like mouth, feeling the spikes of his teeth before he smacked his lips. “You’re not fucking with me, right?”
“Why would I?” The tired angel furrowed his brow, looking up as a stab of pride renewed in his chest. The long, onyx-covered scaled limb from his backside twitched, then swayed loosely on the arm of the couch as he hugged himself. “Look, I-I, I appreciate your help, but I’m.. I’m sober enough to go home. My magic should be under control again.”
That earned the supposed Devil a snort from the sinner reclining on the couch. Roughly sewn patches in the fabric pressed against his spine and ass as the former cult leader sat forward. He poked a red circle adorning a milky cheek. “No,” he said plainly. “I’m no quack, but I think space will do you good. Clearly, your other plan wasn't doin' the trick, huh? So, hush! Settle in and fuckin’ relax, Lu. Your mighty realm won't miss you for one night.”
Crimson eyes widened in shock, then he swatted away the blue claw, flustered. The angel pushed his shoulders into the plushness of the couch with a huff, looking as indignant as he felt. When his forked tongue slid out, he could taste spilled whiskey and expired takeout wafting from the kitchen. “I, um.” Eloquent as ever, Luce growled at himself.
“Your wings looked pretty busted,” Vincent talked over him with a cocky chuckle, already moving to peel off the smaller man’s jacket. It made Lucifer tense, but it came free regardless of his own desires. The angel sighed in quiet irritation.
“They’re not broken,” he swore. “Just tender. My feathers ache.”
“Well, let me see ‘em anyway,” Vincent demanded as he urged the angel to sit sideways on the couch, following suit.
“What?” the startled angel croaked, grunting as his wings slipped from their sheaths when electrical pulses ran over his spine. Biting down a groan of relief, the large ivory-adorned limbs gave a weak flap. Six. Six fucking wings. Vince buried his shock.
“Eh, I’ll learn on the fly,” the sinner offered with a casual wiggle of his fingers, intending the pun. It made Lucifer snort slightly, but he closed his eyes and tried to relax his shoulders. Careful claws worked through the white, a little splattering of gold here and there. The demon was surprised when he discovered red on the undersides. Thinking it was more blood at first, Vincent brought a freed feather up to lick, but it was indeed just red. Sputtering and spitting it out when it flew into his maw, Lucifer peered over his shoulder with a curious brow raised.
“You okay?” the angel asked, seeing Vincent’s face glow a brighter shade. The idiot was hacking.
“Great!” Vince replied much too fast, then cleared his throat. Returning to helping with the large wings, he spat a feather to the unkempt floor. Their chatter delved into a far more casual spray of words as blue claws glided through ivory. After the tiny king finally pulled away with his own face a bright shade of gold, he collapsed forward. Chest smushed to the arm of the couch, Lu sighed, and his tail gave a tired sway. He was painfully sober now, annoyed as he recalled his wings, twisting to lie back and cover his face with a dark arm.
“Better?” came the boxy-headed sinner’s voice, a bit rougher with tiredness and relief. Lucifer couldn’t see him, but he couldn’t admit that he felt better than he had in weeks.
“Mhmm.” It was short and sweet, but he didn’t expect Vince to open his mouth again so soon.
“I fucked up too.”
Peeling open crimson depths, the devil tilted his own head to the left. Inhaling slowly, he shifted to cross one knee over the other. He didn’t intend to put his hooves onto the man’s lap, but they ended up there anyway. It felt right.
Vince’s hands gravitated toward the red, gleaming keratin. Gentle as he touched, large claws over the toes, checking for cracks. Twisting his thumb claw clockwise, the sinner shaved off a little of the overgrowth from the bottom of the angel’s hoof, making Lucifer shiver and bite his lip. He didn't feel it per se, but the intimacy caught him off guard. Vince didn’t seem to notice. “I have..had a friend.” The sinner sighed, looking down at his new task as he spoke, expression guilty yet angry.
“I wanted to be his partner. We could do so much good work together! He basically is radio down here, and I’m.. I’m gonna herald a new age of television. Just he fuckin’ wait.” Lucifer raised a brow, but didn’t interrupt. This man seemingly knew his way around a hoof far more than wings, and the King reclined lazily on the couch cushions. The other man trimmed away and smoothed the curve of the pair of cloven toes before moving to the other to repeat it.
“I just wanted him to notice me, and I fucked up. Asked him to work with me, and the prick laughed me out of the bar! I.. I fucking lost my nerve.” Vincent’s grip tightened, and a long dark tail moved almost of its own accord. It wrapped around the sinner’s wrist, gentle in an attempt to soothe.
“I’m sorry.” The words left the blonde before he could stop them. “I.. guess we’re both kind of having a rough night, huh?” A nervous chuckle spilled from his lips, then he looked up to meet those sharp cyan irises. “I know it doesn't help, but you're... You've been nothing but helpful to me. His loss, Vincent.” Frowning deeply, Vincent scoffed in agreement.
Quiet fell over them both for a beat, air heavy.
Lucifer moved first.
Sitting up and semi-prying his hoof from the man’s grasp, the angel shifted to balance on his knees. At this height, at least he was level with that glowing display. Vin tilted his head, taken off guard as the shorter man moved. Dark hands, dainty and gentle, but shockingly soft, cradled below the corners of the CRT screen.
“What are you..?” the media demon asked, raising a brow. It didn’t deter the royal, and he leaned in close, moving to press his face against that display. Forehead to…whatever passed as Vincent’s own, a spark of tickling static made Lucifer chuckle, quiet and low. Eyes closed, he rubbed his face back and forth in a gentle brush of affection that didn’t need words. It didn’t stop Vincent from sputtering in confusion, large hands seeking out a slim waist.
Inhaling the strong smell of ozone and letting it trail across his tongue, it made the lonely duck maker smile. Tail still wound around the sinner’s wrist, it was Vince who tilted his head, adjusting until he felt the press of soft lips against his bio-glass. The blonde inhaled sharply, hands holding tighter, feeling the smooth wood grain under delicate thumbs.
A sigh passed the king’s mouth, and he returned the kiss gently, small shoulders losing their tension. God, he missed that feeling.
What felt like an olive branch almost immediately made the sinner ache to burst into flames. Hands spreading out possessively before he could stop himself, the killer kissed the fallen angel with more vigor, dragging him onto his lap. Vincent was a greedy man, and he knew the moment the angel kissed him back that he wasn’t letting go. He couldn’t. Fuck, he’d devour the original Sin if he were so allowed. Two fuck ups, too many mistakes. He felt Lucifer shiver in his arms, pressing flush. Their hearts beat rapidly against one another.
Fine. Vince wasn't asking.