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The Valentine’s festivities were anything but pleasant. Barely concealed lust lingered in the air, lazy partners made obligatory gestures, and that embarrassing vulnerability clung to nearly every romantic endeavor. Yes, it was quite the obnoxious holiday.
Romantic or purely carnal, every facet of it left a sour taste in his mouth, though he had no such relationships of his own to reference. He tapped long claws against his forearm in feigned disinterest as he surveyed the gaudy décor now overtaking the lounge: pink glitter, garish streamers, and hearts decidedly not of the anatomical variety. How dull.
The only soul who seemed to share his distaste was the sulking king, twisting his ring endlessly as his expression fell with each new addition to the festive display. He ought to have left him to stew. It would have been easy to laugh, to tease, to wax poetic about the king’s failed marriage and the pathetic disposition that had led to it. But there was no humor in that today. Still, misery did love company, and he happened to be available.
“Not a fan of the festivities, Your Majesty?” he asked, rising behind the startled king in a shadowed flourish.
Lucifer turned with a half-hearted glare, offering little more than a look as they both watched Charlie string up lights with determined cheer.
“It’s a fine holiday,” Lucifer said at last, sounding anything but convinced.
“Hmm. I’ve never been much of a fan myself.”
The king snorted, and he returned the glare in kind.
“I don’t mean anything by it, but you’re not exactly built for this sort of thing,” Lucifer added after a pause. “On any day, not just this one.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. Fair enough.
“Still,” Lucifer continued with a fleeting smile that quickly dimmed as his gaze fell to his ring again, “that leaves the two of us rather unoccupied, doesn’t it?”
Telling that the king considered him suitable company. Then again, he had approached him first.
“Yes, I suppose it does. I hope you’re not proposing a picnic in the park or some equally tragic display,” he replied with a faint grimace. Who knew how far desperation might drive him.
Lucifer barked a laugh. “No, nothing like that. But I’ve heard from Charlie’s girl that you’ve quite the impressive pocket dimension tucked away in your room. I’ve been wanting to see it. And it’s probably best we get out of the kids’ hair.”
He glanced around the lounge at its clustering couples and found himself inclined to agree.
“I don’t see why not, so long as I get something out of this excursion.” Truthfully, he didn’t mind the request. The bayou had taken effort to craft, and he was honest enough with himself to admit he enjoyed showing it off. Still, something to sweeten the arrangement might put an extra skip in his step.
Lucifer rolled his eyes, though there was no bite to it. “How about a present after the tour?”
Vague.
“And this present is…?”
Lucifer pressed a finger to his lips. “That’s a secret, Bambi. Besides, how am I to know your pocket dimension is impressive enough to warrant a present at all?”
At that, he bristled, seizing the king by the wrist and dragging him down the hall to his door.
The door swung open, and satisfaction thrummed through him as Lucifer fell silent. The room gave way to an expanse of trees and slow-moving water stretching far beyond the space it should have occupied.
A low whistle cut through the humid air. “Impressive. You even managed a climate. I can feel the humidity, and the attention to detail is—”
Lucifer released his wrist to brush his fingers along the bark of a nearby tree, circling slowly, boots sinking into the damp soil.
“I have to respect the craft, even as imitation creation is compelling in its own right.”
Ah. He should have anticipated that an angel, former or otherwise, with an innate reverence for creation would appreciate his bayou in full.
He was self-assured, teetering well into cocky, and yet Lucifer’s praise warmed him in a way that felt distinctly uncomfortable. The realization that he valued the king’s opinion was an inconvenient one. He shoved the thought aside and stepped forward, leading him deeper into the bayou.
They pushed past the thicker growth until the trees thinned into a clearing of water and dew-soaked earth. Tall grass shimmered under the soft glow of June bugs, their light brighter than was natural.
“This is nice,” Lucifer said, lowering himself onto the damp ground without ceremony. “You grew up somewhere like this?”
He joined him despite the mud soaking into his trousers, long accustomed to the sensation.
“Yes,” he answered simply.
“I can see why you’d recreate it. It’s peaceful.”
He hummed in agreement, though the peace had long ago grown complicated. The still water reflected more than trees and starlight. It echoed with memories of blood in the reeds.
Still, the good outweighed the bad. He would not have spent so long crafting his bayou if that weren’t the case.
“Thank you for this,” Lucifer said after a while, a laugh slipping from him that sounded more brittle than amused. “I know you’re not particularly fond of me. Or anyone in your room, for that matter.”
“I had nothing better to do,” he replied quickly, defensive by instinct alone.
The king turned to him then with a look so earnest it made him regret agreeing to this excursion at all.
“You’ve really never dated anyone,” Lucifer asked carefully. “Or done the whole romance thing?”
Heat crept up his neck. “I believe we’ve established that I haven’t.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m not implying that.” Lucifer dragged a hand down his face. “I just… how do you do it? How are you fulfilled without that?”
The reliance was pitiful. And yet, beneath that assessment, something closer to pity stirred. Codependency had always seemed particularly messy to him. To lose your independence, your sense of self, to strip yourself down until you were relationship first and person second. The thought made him shiver. It reminded him, unpleasantly, of Vox and his obsessive devotion, of how heavy that attachment had grown before he’d severed it. He had regretted, on occasion, the manner in which he’d delivered that wake-up call.
Looking at the king now, his crumpled expression illuminated by moonlight and June bugs, he felt he could not be so careless with this one.
For Charlie’s sake, of course.
“I find fulfillment outside of such matters because I am a person outside of such matters,” he began evenly. “I have goals, interests… ambitions that exist independently.”
Lucifer huffed in frustration. “What are you getting at? Trust me, I’ve had enough independence. It’s not enough.”
His ear twitched at the hitch in the king’s breathing.
“You’re wrong. That isn’t independence. You are not living for yourself.” His voice sharpened. “You are living for her; you are living in wait of her. You are merely filling time until her return. That is not independence, that is compliance.”
Lucifer’s tail lashed sharply through the damp grass.
“I understand you lost everything,” he continued, “Your world narrowed until it was only her. Only who you were in conjunction to her. But she is not here. She has not been here for nearly a decade. When will you begin living for yourself instead of waiting for her?”
He scoffed softly, unwilling to fully soften the blow for a man who had so thoroughly avoided reality.
“I may not feel the same romantic drive others do, that much is true. But I have relationships. Platonic though they are, they can be fulfilling. And I am not dependent on them for my sense of self. That would be suffocating, for them and for me.” His gaze flicked sideways. “I’m not claiming to know the intricacies of your marriage. I don’t know enough to level real accusations beyond the occasional cruel jab. But tell me— is she as listless as you are? I imagine not, if she hasn’t made her way back.”
Lucifer went very still beside him. Fury flickered across his features, and still he pressed on, driven by a strange mixture of anticipation and necessity.
“And if she does come back,” he said quietly, “you would forgive and forget even after she hurt you. After she abandoned not only you but your daughter. After she chose herself at the expense of your family. You would forgive that. It is not a question; I know you would.”
His spine went rigid as Lucifer’s eyes burned red, horns lengthening, his mouth twitching between a growl and something more wounded.
“You don’t find that odd?” he continued, voice low but unrelenting. “Could you express upset toward her without fearing she’d leave again? Or are you compliant in that as well? That is not healthy. That is not the love you think it is.”
He had not intended for the conversation to turn so sharp. But no one else seemed willing to offer the king a dose of reality. He hadn’t enjoyed it, at least, not beyond the fleeting relief of speaking his mind.
“You don’t know anything,” Lucifer snapped, voice cracking. “She— I—” His jaw clenched. “Fuck you.”
The transformation ebbed as quickly as it had flared. Horns receded as eyes dulled, tears slipping down pale cheeks instead.
He supposed Lucifer had needed someone to be angry at. He could understand that.
Silence settled between them, thick and humid. Cicadas buzzed while frogs croaked from somewhere near the water’s edge.
“You are a dick. Did you know that?” Lucifer muttered hoarsely.
He frowned faintly at the crude phrasing but inclined his head all the same.
“You know…” Lucifer’s voice dropped to something thin and frayed. “I don’t think this is as new to me as I wanted it to be. I think I knew. I think I’ve known for a while. I was just… lying to myself.”
He found himself, absurdly, wishing Charlie were there to soften the edges of the moment with that unbearably endearing smile of hers. She would have filled the silence with warmth instead of letting it sit heavy between them.
“I kept surrounding myself with people who would affirm everything I was telling myself,” Lucifer continued, staring down at his hands. “People who made it easier. Made it okay.” He felt paralyzed under every honest, emotion-filled word. “And I still— I still love her. Even after you so helpfully dissected it for me.”
“Hmm. Yes, well, I’d expect nothing less,” he replied as he shook off the tension, smoothing his tone into something almost conversational. “Feelings are irrational. Especially love, from what I’ve gathered. It has driven people to far greater absurdities than waiting around for a decade.”
Lucifer barked a laugh at that, suspiciously wet at the edges. “Wow, Al. I thought this present was going to be more funny than anything… but maybe this is more deserved.”
Before he could inquire further, something warm and metallic glinted in Lucifer’s palm. A delicate golden bracelet rested there, thin but well-crafted. Dangling from it were small charms: a duck, a deer, a radio, and an apple, each looped neatly along the chain.
“It takes a real friend to be that honest,” Lucifer said, looking at him with an openness that made his shoulders stiffen. “And to try to soften the blow while you’re at it.”
He opened his mouth to argue the implication, but the words faltered when Lucifer’s sleeve slid back, revealing an identical band clasped around his own wrist.
A friendship bracelet.
The realization settled with uncomfortable weight. He despised the grin that tugged at Lucifer’s mouth, despised even more the faint warmth curling in his own chest in response.
“I thought we could both use something that isn’t about romance today,” Lucifer added lightly. “Consider it a very non-obnoxious Valentine’s gesture.”
How terribly sentimental.
Lucifer rose soon after, brushing damp soil from his trousers. “Thank you, Al. For the bayou. And for… that.”
He gave a small salute with two fingers before heading back toward the thinning trees and the door beyond them.
When the door shut behind him, the quiet returned in full. The cicadas droned. The water lapped lazily at the muddy bank.
He exhaled slowly, head spinning from the turn of events. There was a bitter sort of satisfaction in having spent the holiday with someone in such an undeniably platonic fashion. No romance or amorous expectation. No false gestures. Just honesty sharp enough to sting. As sharp as it was helpful to his own horror.
Back in his room proper, he turned the bracelet over in his hand once, twice. The gold caught the light, charms clinking softly together.
With deliberate care, he set it down on his vanity.
Right beside an equally sentimental roach crown.