I don’t own any of this. That honor goes to Neil Gaiman, Vertigo, DC Comics, Netflix, Warner Bros., and (Dad-help-us), Fox. Use of and sharing by others, in any way, shape or form, is not allowed.
Unless you’re one of the actual owners of the LUCIFER property, of course, then feel free to use any bit of or all of it with my enthusiastic blessing. I wouldn’t even want compensation or credit. Really. Devil’s Honor.
“When I said, ‘Don’t go’, I meant it, mister.”
A pause in the lovemaking. The first actual words spoken in at least three full hours.
Moans don’t count, after all.
The bed is a complete and total mess, but they lay naked together in a tidy and comfortable spoon, his long body covering hers protectively from behind. She has her arms wrapped tightly around his, trapping them across her chest.
“I did what I thought I had to do to keep you and everyone else safe.”
“I get that. I really do,” she replies. “But as it all turned out, that’s not what any of that meant at all.”
“How was I to know that? It wasn’t worth the risk.”
A glare delivered over the top of her right shoulder.
“Ah, no, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I misspoke!”
“You are clearly worth any possible risk out there, as I am sure I have proved to you time and time again.”
The glare lessens.
“My heart hurt while you were gone. It actually hurt.”
A mumbled “I’m sorry”.
Someone else’s heart hurt, too, but they did not realize it was their heart that clenched in that terrible ache. They’d felt it so very many times over the past several thousand years, but it had never lessened in the agony it created. They only knew it hurt like a gunshot to the gut, and nothing could assuage it.
Until they were once again together with the silly, sweet, incredibly brave mortal now in their arms. So very much braver than they were.
Had ever been, really.
Eyes downcast. A warm hand shifts upward to touch one alabaster cheek.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again. I love you.”
Dark eyes raised, impossible hope registering there. An arm is untangled and then a hand cradles a cheek still slightly shiny with the faint residue of pale blush.
“I simply cannot understand how you could ever feel that way about…me.”
“Get used to it,” she says, her voice firm. “You should realize that no matter how many times you’ve tried to break us up for whatever imagined reason, the Universe, or perhaps your Dad, brought us together all over again.”
Eyes go hard.
“Let’s not talk about Dear Old Dad, shall we?”
“No, I’m thinking we should, actually.”
“And why is that?” his voice is cold, his body stiff, and the hand moves away.
“If you believe in anything like Fate or predestination, it’s clear that your Dad wants us together.”
“That’s not a selling point.”
“Oh, but I think it is,” she replies, her voice firm. “Again, no matter how many times we’ve nearly broken up, something happens that brings us back together again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“When you did indeed go back down there, he had to have a potential solution lined up.”
“No, he planned ahead for that, too,” she corrects him. “What were the odds she would do what she did? Truly? I mean, knowing her original nature.”
“She defied me when she kept it. There should be consequences for that defiance.”
“Don’t you dare! She doesn’t deserve that. And if she hadn’t defied you, the results would have been unthinkable.”
“She kept it because she thought she could use it to take us back—”
“Yes, she did, but then she decided to use it where it was most needed. She went beyond the way she was created and thought about someone else. Just the way you did and continue to do.” The withdrawn hand is caught up, brought to soft lips and gently kissed. “Please just accept it for the gift that it is.”
“Very well,” he concedes, his expression and body softening again. He glances at the hand that holds his own. “Is there anything else I can do for you, while you have me so relentlessly held captive?”
“As I said, don’t go.”
Her face becomes serious once more, eyes narrowing, her expression growing fierce.
“And if you ever, ever do that again, I’ll go down there myself and drag you back here, whether you like it or not!”
A fierce kiss, brooking no argument.
“Yes, ma’am,” and a moment of reflection. “Yes, incredible.”
Then, a moment of quiet.
“Now, get that Devil face of yours back. I told you before that it doesn’t scare me.”
A thoughtful look, and then the barest suggestion of a smirk as the face in question appears once more.
“Detective, I can assure you that yours is far scarier.”
A long, gentle kiss.
“Yes, far scarier.”
A snort. A breath of laughter.
“Oh, just shut up and kiss me again!”
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