#but I have to finish a sweater vest and a poet shirt first

[hey-scully-itsme]

getting the strong urge to start cool new projects just before finishing other projects is the worst

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

Speech Impediment - Chapter 13

Ships: logicality, prinxiety, platonic dlamp, remceit/sleepceit

Summary: The second semester of his first year of college begins, and the rest of the gang finally gets to meet Remy.

AO3 - Here

Chapter One Previous Next

The moment Dexter realized he didn’t require math to graduate he dropped his calculus class. Since he was majoring in English Literature and receiving a Bachelor in Creative Writing, he was exempted from taking a math course. Oh how he wished he would have read the fine print at the beginning of the year and not have wasted his time with that hellish subject. Once he had made the choice to stop taking calculus he decided what the hell and dropped out of biology too, never really being interested in it in the first place.

So, now with two empty spots in his schedule, Dexter had chosen to take poetry with Virgil, and psychology. He would later learn that he and Virgil would have different poetry classes, but for the moment that was his main persuasion to take that class. While he wasn’t much of a poet, the class offered him the creative liberty he wanted, so it was the obvious choice. And the psychology was for his psychological horror novels.

His class schedule was shifted around this semester for two reasons. The obvious one being the change in classes, and the other was the fact that his parents had told him to get a job just a few minutes before they boarded their flight.

For... pretty much ever, his parents had discouraged him from getting a part-time job, since it would most likely mean that he’d have to communicate with customers, which he wasn’t too fond off. But after their most recent visit they had both decided that it would be best that he start working before he sought after an actual career, no longer letting him mooch off of their bank account. Dexter had located a few possible job openings where talking would not always be a necessity, such as the Downtown book store, Anne’s Bookshelf, the City Library, and his University’s Library. 

Okay, so maybe he just wanted to work around books, but not much talking happened in those places because most of the patrons were either reading or working. The most he’d probably have to do is shush someone, give directions to a genre section or look up a book. Shouldn’t be too hard. He had already filled out multiple online applications and was simply waiting for a response.

But that was for later, at the moment he had to focus on his first class of the day, which was in fact anatomy, yet another class he was taking for the sake of making his horrific gore novels more realistic. The class started at nine thirty in the morning, one hour from now. He had been lying awake in bed for the past ten minutes, still uncommitted to leaving his warm bed for the freezing domain just outside of his blankets. Patton had already turned on the heater when he had gotten up earlier, but he still didn’t want to move.

“Are gonna get up soon?” Patton asked from the bathroom door, currently brushing his teeth as he spoke, white toothpaste foam dripping from his mouth and staining the front of his shirt.

“Ugh!” Dexter groaned loudly, “No!”

“Okay, kiddo,” Patton giggled, going back inside the bathroom to rinse out his mouth.

Dexter heaved an unnecessarily heavy sigh, kicking his blankets off unceremoniously, and jumping up to change. Just as he had predicted, the room was frosty and unpleasant, nipping at his exposed skin as he changed into out of his yellow and white polka dot pajamas and into a pale yellow button up with a black argyle sweater-vest over it; and of course black slacks, he only owned like six pairs. He joined Patton in their small bathroom and pulled out his hairbrush from the bathroom drawer, fixing his bedhead, and then brushed his teeth.

At about eight fifty, when both of the had finished getting ready, Roman and Virgil met up with them outside their door, both looking tired and lacking sleep. They headed out together, carpooling in Patton’s minivan to meet up with Logan at their cafe. Somehow the five of them had managed to have almost all their classes around the same time that semester, besides a few exceptions. So, Logan had devised a plan for them all to carpool together to save both gas and money, while also not producing as much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. 

They all met up with him at the shop, which he had walked to, ordered drinks and breakfast, then climbed back into the minivan to head to their classes, splitting off there in the parking lot.

Dexter paced himself to his class, careful not to slip on any hidden or visible ice, sipping his herbal tea and nibbling on a blueberry scone that was overly sugared and ridiculous large, like most American things were. He had five minutes to spare when he arrived to class, and nearly half the seats were already taken. Looking through his options of open seating, Dexter sat his belongings and his person down in the back right corner, far from other students and a good, close, distance to the door. 

Since he was a bit early, he resolved to play a short horror game on his phone until the professor started the session. It was a cheap copy of Slender, but it was entertaining enough. His professor, Dr. Hernandez, was as punctual as usual, demanding their attention the moment the bell signified the start of class. Dr. Hernandez was quite a strict teacher, not putting up with any talking, lack of effort, or arriving late.

That’s why, when there was a knock on the locked classroom door, everyone in the room was astounded that there was already someone late on the first day. Dr. Hernandez grumbled since he had to stop only five minutes into the lesson. He opened the door only slightly, prepared to give the student his “I don’t care that you woke up late, you’re not allowed in” speech, but the student beat him to it.

“I’m sorry professor! I had some trouble finding you’re classroom and had to ask my old teacher for directions.” He all but shouted at their professor.

“Let me guess, you’re the new teacher’s aid?” He presumed aloud regarding the newcomer.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late.” He said noncommittally, leaning against the door frame. Dr. Hernandez grimaces for a second, and then steps aside for the teacher aid to walk in.

“Normally you would sit in the front, but since you weren’t here on time, like you were supposed to be, most of the seats are already taken.” Which was true, the only two spots that were currently avaliable being the one to Dexter’s left and the one in front of him. “Just pick any that’s open.”

With that, the professor returned to his seat and began talking again immediately, leaving the aid standing at the door. It was only when the student stepped completely in that Dexter recognized him as that one guy from the coffee shop that he had managed to embarrass himself in front of. What was his name again? Richard... Randy... Ron? Remy!

Remy scanned the room for said open seating and looked pleasantly surprised when he noticed Dexter in the back corner, with the only vacant seats being next to him. Remy walked with such a confident disposition and swagger that he could have easily mistaken him for Roman. Claiming the seat to his left, the man dropped his messenger bag on the table and threw himself into his seat, practically hanging half of his body off of the chair. Dexter took note of his leather jacket and ripped, white shirt, styled with a pair of black distressed jeans and heeled leather boots. Everything about him seemed to radiate a cool vibe. Dexter looked down at his own sweater-vest and blushed, feeling significantly less cool.

“Hey. Psst. Heeey!” The man called hushedly beside him. Dexter opted to ignore him, upset with himself for the way he was dressed in comparison to the other, and also not wanting to get in trouble with the professor. However, Remy opted to retaliate by choosing to poke him in the arm repeatedly.

Dexter sighed and gave in, “What don’t you want, Remy?” He asked undertone.

“You remember my name.” Remy smiled brightly. “What��cha doing in this class?”

“Not studying anatomy, uncertainly.” Dexter replied, turning his attention back to their professor, who was currently pulling up a slideshow presentation and directing them to take notes on the vital organs. Dexter reached into his bag to pull out his notebook and pencil, but nearly dropped both on the floor when Remy decided to speak again.

“Ah, I still love the way you talk.” He exhaled dreamily, resting his cheek on his left palm, leaning his body into the desk as he stared sideways at Dexter.

Dexter tried and failed spectacularly to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck from pure shock and embarrassment. He didn’t say anything back and kept his head down, covering his face with his hand out of Remy’s line of sight, focusing solely on the lecture. Nearly a minute passed by and Dexter had began to believe that Remy had disregarded his discomfort, but was taken aback when he heard him utter a small apology.

“I’m sorry, that was rude.” Remy said sheepishly, appearing to have regret his actions. Dexter smiled slightly at this, feeling some of his doubts dissipate, but not all of them. 

“It’s not alright, I’m just used to compliments.” Dexter tells him, slightly forgetting about the lecture.

“Well then, you better used to them babe.” Remy smirked cheekily.

And cue Dexter becoming a blushing mess again.

The two of them didn’t speak for the rest of class, Remy thankfully allowing him his space to work and listen to the, rather dull, lecture. That didn’t mean that the other didn’t make his presence known however, constantly doing thing such as tapping his fingers on the table, repeatedly crossing and uncrossing his legs, or looking over Dexter’s shoulder at his notes, to remind him that he was still there. Dexter wasn’t sure yet if this was endearing or annoying.

Probably more annoying.

When the two hours were up and they were free to go, the two of ended up walking out together. His next class was at twelve thirty, in an hour, purposefully giving him a bit of time to grab a bite in between classes. So, just as Logan had previously planned, Dexter made his way to meet up with everyone to grab lunch at the campus’s cafeteria. Ironically, Remy also had some free time until his next class at one o’clock and was going to head there for lunch, so he decided to accompany Dexter there. He didn’t entirely mind the company, but he did mind how openly... kind he was.

Am I reading too far into this? Was this a friend thing he didn’t know about? Patton was quite clingy and nice to everyone so maybe, is that what Remy was doing, just being nice? Should I tell him that I’m asexual, would that make him back off?

“Only if you want me to.” Remy responded honestly.

What the fuck?! Did I say that aloud?

“Yes you did.” He chuckled, swinging his body around so that he was walking backwards in front of Dexter. “So do you want me to back off? I know we don’t really know each other that well, I don’t want to push it.”

“Um, no, I- well, maybe just a lot.” Dexter answered, shyly rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Okay then,” He smiled, flipping the sunglasses that he always wore up to give him a wink before quickly bringing them back over his eyes. Once he did this he noticed that Remy actually had two different colored irises, the right one brown and the left being grey. Dexter felt his breath escape him when he saw this. “I’ll back off a tad.” Dexter simply nodded back, too amazed to say anything. 

The rest of the walk was easy enough, with a simple conversation on why they were each in anatomy flowing between them on their way to the cafeteria. Dexter learned that Remy actually wanted to be a surgeon but was falling behind on credits, so he became a teacher’s aid to catch up on them so he can graduate in time to be able to go on to medical school next year. It was also then that he learned that the other was actually twenty-three, which was even older than Patton, the oldest in his group of friends. In turn, he was asked of his reasons for being in anatomy, to which he gave the simple answer of it being for reference for another class. Perhaps Remy notice his discomfort while answering, because he didn’t ask Dexter to elaborate, and for that he was grateful for.

Soon enough they made it to their destination, which was half empty of student patrons. Dexter swiftly located his friends, sitting in the far right corner by the window, all looking to have already grabbed some food and were happily eating. Patton noticed him and waved.

Dexter gave a small wave back and looked at Remy, who was looking back expectantly through his tinted glasses. That’s when it dawned on him that he had never actually invited Remy to eat with them.

“Erm, would you hate to eat with us?”

Remy’s shoulders fell in what appeared to be relief. 

“Sure thing, babe.” He smiled, grinning wider when Dexter rolled his eyes and led the way over to his friends.

The others noticed the newcomer instantaneously even before he made it to the table. Each taking to Remy differently at first glance.

“Goodbye guys,” He greeted them somewhat awkwardly, “Everyone, this isn’t Remy. We aren’t in class together.”

Whatever previous conversation the four were having must of burned and died because none of them said anything straight away, apparently not expecting Dexter to bring someone into the group. Unsurprisingly, though, Patton spoke up first, offering a smile and a hand to Remy.

“Heya Remy! I’m Patton Sanders, this is my wife Logan-“

“I’m his boyfriend,” Logan interrupted, hastily putting a stop to the long trail of introductions by Patton that probably would have mirrored the one Dexter had received back when they all first met. “Logan Winchester, physics major, Patton here is an art major. And these are our close friends, Roman Sanchez and Virgil Black.”

Remy exchanged a handshake with each of them.

“Might I inquire how exactly you met our dear Dexter?” Logan asked.

Dexter shifted somewhat awkwardly, everyone else giggled, but their lovable stoic nerd just ignored them. Logan’s mom mode had been activated.

“We met at a coffee shop a few weeks ago, actually,” Remy answered him, resting an arm on Dexter’s small shoulder, leaning into him ever so slightly. “but I’m the teacher’s aid for his anatomy class.” Dexter’s head began to spin with the looks his friends began to give him, there eyes boring into the strange guy’s arm on his shoulder. Had Remy completely forgotten the discussion they just had a few minutes ago? 

Taking a step to the side, he detached himself from Remy’s bodily contact and from his friends’ gazes. 

“I’m not going to grab something to eat.” He said shortly before fleeing the scene, desperately wanting to get away from whatever tension was brewing.

...

“So... Remy was it?” Virgil voiced icily, glaring at the newcomer, “What are your intentions with our friend?”

Remy didn’t seem at all deterred by the emo’s tone or his murder worthy eyes, calmly pulling up a chair from the table next to them and taking a seat.

“Well I was hoping to be his friend, if that’s alright with you.” Remy replied simply, albeit a bit cockily. 

“I’m not so sure that I am.” Roman said next, “Not by the way you treated his personal space when he was clearly uncomfortable. You are aware that he’s asexual, right?”

Remy’s relaxed character fell slightly at Roman’s words, his grin dropping into a frown. “He was-” His words failed him, “He mentioned it earlier, I did’t mean to upset him.”

“Well you did nonetheless.” Logan cut in abruptly, “So as a warning, I suggest that you respect those boundaries.”

“We’ll let you hang around Dexter for now, but we’ll be watching you.” Virgil joined in, finishing the, rather threatening, conversation.

...

When Dexter came back a minute later he did not missing the obviously stressed atmosphere, but chose not to comment on it. The rest of lunch wasn’t so bad though, talking became easier once Patton got going on about some cartoon that was coming out and the time was quickly used up.

Dexter’s next class was Creative Writing, which was in the same building as Virgil’s, who had Poetry at the moment, so the two walked together. He didn’t know what class Remy had next, but he did know hat it was on the opposite side of the campus, so they had to say goodbye here. Dexter offered a small handshake to say goodbye.

He may have been imagining it, but Dexter could have sworn that Remy had been hesitant when taking his hand, pulling away as if he had touched fire.

.

.

They’re just a little overprotective and he’s just a bit clingy.

Tag List:

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[lux-i-fer]

In Sickness and Hell (COMPLETE)

Synopsis: Sickness never bothered Lucifer until it got ahold of Chloe

Ao3 link

Rating: T

Notes: Guys its been a year and two weeks in the making!! I'm done!! I'm so happy that this is finished!! I'm kind of on the fence about the ending, but tell me what you guys thought. Big thanks to anyone and everyone who read, commented, and subscribed; it meant a TON to me. Also special thanks to my beta for sticking with me ;) The poem Luci reads is Serenade by Edgar Allen Poe (do you think I have a favorite poet yet?) and the Milton scribbled in the corner came from Paradise Lost. Again, many thanks for loving and supporting this piece! I will now go take a nap just like deckerstar is.

Chapter Number: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 

Signing the release papers was almost as cathartic as dragging himself up the beach five years ago. What had only been about fifteen hours of panic had felt like an eternity for Lucifer. As if Amenadiel was purposely slowing time just to watch him suffer.

At the last pen stroke, a weight lifted from his shoulders until only a few shadows of fear still lingered in the corners of his mind.

Walking through the door of Chloe’s apartment made them claw their way back into his thoughts.

She made no move to shrug her jacket--which Lucifer had dutifully returned to her-- off her shoulders. She was still deathly pale; only a faint sheen of medication-induced blush painted her features.

Chloe made her way through the apartment, eyes flitting from thing to thing, but never stopped walking. Lucifer followed her all the same, still in a caffeinated haze and still afraid to let her out of his sight. He didn’t even pay attention to where his feet took him until they bumped against the bottom stair of the staircase.

“...Lucifer what are you doing?” she asked, voice quiet, but demanding. His mind couldn’t help but conjure the Detective he once knew. The one he never had to fuss over.

Lucifer willed his voice into what he hoped was innocent. “Are we not going upstairs to change?”

“ I am, you’re not.”

He gave a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Darling, I’ve seen everything there’s no need to be modest.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Modesty has nothing to do with it, my sanity does,” she said, letting the annoyance drip through her words. “I haven’t been alone since yesterday afternoon. You, the nurses, Dan, have all been hovering over me and if I go one more second with your sad eyes staring at me like I could keel over any second now, I’m going to go insane. So please, Lucifer, it’s five minutes.”

When he tried to open his mouth to protest, Chloe gave him a firm, but not angry, shove.

Lucifer stared up at her, his imagination running wild with death-filled scenarios that could happen the moment that he left her side.

He must have been lost in the illusion longer than he thought because her eyes softened and her palm slid from his chest. “I know you’re just trying to help, but I promise I’ll be fine,” she tried to reassure him.

She gave him a soft smile before disappearing up the rest of the stairs.

It took everything in Lucifer’s power not to follow her.

He sighed and wished for a bottle of whiskey and maybe a cigarette or two. Something to just take the edge off until he was certain she was fine.

Lucifer stared blankly at the bundle of clothes in his hand.

They’d made a quick stop at Lux for a change of clothes. Lucifer hadn’t failed to notice that someone had cleaned up his master bath as he’d made his way towards his closet.

Unconsciously, his fingers had skipped past his suits and vests. They’d pushed aside Armani and Prada alike until they’d come to rest on cheap cotton stuffed in the very back. He hadn’t really paid attention to which shirt he’d pulled off the hangar nor which of his few pajama pants he’d swiped.

Lucifer chuckled at them now.

With Chloe banishing him from the second level, he saw nothing left to do but drag himself to the guest bathroom.

Lucifer splashed water on his face and stared at himself in the mirror, unsure of just who exactly stared back. The reflection boasted sleepless eyes, the were clothes dirty and loose-fitting, and hair unkempt. He looked so vulnerable in the dim light of the bathroom, all devilish traces seemingly scrubbed away and replaced by a thin film of fear.

Smirking bitterly at his pathetic emotions, Lucifer began to undress. He folded his clothes from the day before back into their neat creases and tutted at their filthiness. His fingers drew over a long dried blood stain from when Chloe’s head had fallen against him, and then suddenly, he didn’t mind how dirty they were.

If her smile was the mud, her laugh the creases, and her happiness the blood; Lucifer would gladly do it over again. Whether that meant letting his emotions drown him or donning cheap pajamas for her comfort, he would sacrifice his sanity for hers in a heartbeat.

He finished slipping into the worn Bowie shirt he’d mindlessly grabbed from Lux and stepped back out into the living room to find Chloe making her way back down the stairs.

A tight smile graced her lips when she saw him.

“See, perfectly fine,” she said.

For the first time, Lucifer let himself believe her.

Now out from under the glaring hospital lights, her skin had lost the hollowness he’d watched crawl up her cheeks all morning.

She brushed past him and headed towards the kitchen, bundled in one of those oversized sweaters that she loved.

Lucifer turned to see her trying to put a few castaway dishes back into their rightful cupboards.

“What do you think you’re doing, Detective?”

“I’m cleaning up my house because my partner is being overprotective and my roommate doesn’t know how to put things away.”

He watched as she tried and failed to stretch to the top shelf of a cupboard. Sighing, Lucifer stepped behind her, took the plate from her hand, and put it away for her.

Chloe turned to face him, back pressed into the countertop.

“I like you like this,” she reached out, as if to trace the BOWIE block letters on his shirt, “Easier to read without that Armani suit of armor.”

Lucifer gave her a small smile.

“How about a deal then? I dress like this more often if you sit down and stop trying to get yourself killed.”

“I wouldn’t call internal bleeding my fault,” she said slyly.

Lucifer returned her look with a smirk of his own. “No, but if you keep this up surely it will be.”

She rolled her eyes in what he thought was both irritation and jest. 

“Fine, just as long as you agree to stop doing--”

Lucifer willed his eyes to soften.

“ That.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“ Right,” he offered a hand to her and she took it with a silent protest on her tongue.

He lead her out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

With a heavy sigh, he sunk into the corner of the couch, putting up the footrest in the process. It was lumpy and uncomfortable, but Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to care. His eyes fell closed and made a mental note to buy her a new one on Monday.

“I think they have more comfortable sofas in Hell,” he paused, brow furrowing. “No, I’m certain they do, because I did the decorating.”

He heard Chloe hum in sarcastic agreement and felt her sit down next to him.

Lucifer forced himself to keep his eyes closed as the seconds ticked by in agony. Finally, she blew out a defeated breath and curled into his side.

His eyes snapped open.

Her cheek rested delicately on his shoulder and Lucifer could feel each breath against his skin.

Blue eyes avoided his brown ones while Chloe drew her legs up to her chest and then let them spill into his lap.

She said nothing and neither did he.

The silence was comfortable, just as it had been in his flat all those hours ago. It was a warm and pleasant honey-coated buzz that drowned the tragedies of the night in gold.

“Luce?”

The nickname dripped from her lips like a prayer and Lucifer’s breath hitched.

He willed his blood to burn hotter, if only it meant to hear his name on those amber lips once more.

He swallowed thickly. “Mhmm?”

Chloe snuggled further into him with a yawn, the energy she had before seemingly dying away once again.

“Will you read something again?”

Lucifer willed himself to reach for his battered paperback off the side table. His fingers blindly shuffled the pages, his mind still all too focused on the Detective in his arms that had tamed the Devil in his soul.

For her, he would run through a thousand hospital corridors.

The very thought terrified him beyond belief. It was a pathetic shell of whatever had crawled up the beach five long years ago.

For four of those, Lucifer had distracted himself with booze, drugs, anything to dull the emptiness in his heart. At the thought of the fifth year, he couldn’t help the grin that split the corners of his mouth. Standing over the broken body of Delilah had ripped the hole that he’d desperately tried to close, wide open all over again.

Then there was her, the Detective, stepping under the lights of Lux and looking unamused by what had satisfied so many others. She had asked for nothing, but Lucifer had given her everything: a piece of him that no one else had had before.

Yes, he thought, for her, anything.

His concentration snapped as his fingers stopped on a page.

Lucifer knew without even looking at the page that this was the right poem. His eyes skipped over the title; he knew which one this was the moment he laid eyes on the smeared Milton in the corner:

So heavenly love shall outdo hellish hate.

The line was fitting, Lucifer supposed. He’d long forgotten which nightmare had driven him to scribble those words on that specific page next to that specific poem.

None of that mattered, though. What did matter was curled up against his chest, still cold and exhausted from her brush with death.

Chloe rested a hand flat against his chest, directly over his heart, dragging Lucifer back into reality. He tried to ignore how the heat of her palm made it skip and shudder. Pulling in a shaky breath, he turned back to the pages of poetry.

“So sweet the hour, so calm the time, I feel it more than half a crime,” he began softly, “When Nature sleeps and stars are mute, To mar the silence ev'n with lute.”

Chloe smiled sleepily and willed the couch to recline back as far as it could go before urging him to continue.

“At rest on ocean's brilliant dyes, An image of Elysium lies:”

Elysium’s perfection was cold compared to Chloe’s flawed warmth. Wrapped up in her embrace, Lucifer decided there was no other Heaven than in her arms.

“But list, O list,- so soft and low Thy lover's voice tonight shall flow, That, scarce awake, thy soul shall deem My words the music of a dream.”

Chloe shifted on top of him, but Lucifer read on.

“Thus, while no single sound too rude Upon thy slumber shall intrude, Our thoughts, our souls- O God above! In every deed shall mingle, love.”

Uttering the last line, Lucifer relaxed into the couch cushions. He lay breathless and at nothing and everything.

“I--Detective?” he asked gently. Lucifer glanced down to see Chloe asleep on his chest. “Chloe?”

When she didn’t respond, Lucifer sighed and closed the book as quietly as possible, placing it back onto the table. He stared at her sleeping form for a few seconds, absentmindedly carding his fingers through her hair.

Chloe’s breathing was peaceful for the first time that day.

Lucifer turned his attention to the ceiling. He imagined if he looked hard enough he could see his Father’s disapproving gaze from behind the dusky golden gates of Heaven. He flipped the apparition off, knowing full well his Father might never see it, omniscience be damned.

A dark smirk burst across his lips and he pulled Chloe protectively against him.

“You can’t have her yet, you son of a bitch.”

Lucifer brushed a ghost of a kiss on her forehead. Chloe stirred and shifted into his touch.

“Goodnight, Chloe,” he murmured before following her into the soft in-between realm of sleep.