#inthesilencebetweencicadasong

[seizethedre]

In the Silence Between Cicada Song

Lucifer: the pride and joy of the Morningstar name. The once renown artist has been disgraced and disowned after an overseas scandal nearly reveals his queerness to the public. The American south is where he flees to in an attempt to escape the chaos. Having lost his love, his muse, and his name, he believes that life is hardly worth living anymore.

That is, until he meets a certain brown-eyed novelist keen on unearthing the reality of the man Lucifer has tried so hard to bury. Emotions fly with all the makings of a taboo affair, but perhaps love can be found even within this hell on earth he has created for himself. The devil may have his wiles, but even he can't escape the haunting of Lucifer's past.

Or, the human au where Lucifer falls in love with a married man and the two strike up a love affair with much more at stake than either of them had bargained for

Spotify Playlist link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3BzX32ot74qodGj9QJ4rWf?si=a56002f17fee4517

Chapter One >>

[seizethedre]

(In the Silence Between Cicada Song) Chapter One: To Dance with the Devil

“Sam,” Alastor repeated slowly, as though trying out a foreign word for the first time. “It's a pleasure to be meeting you, Sam.” His grin was stretched languidly over his face, dark eyes hooded and shining with interest, looking at Lucifer like he was something new and exciting and worthy of all his attention. Lucifer gulped, his mouth drier than it had been when he woke up that morning as Alastor brought the hand he was shaking up to his face. He turned his wrist, pressing a chaste kiss to the fair skin of Lucifer’s knuckles, all the while keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the smaller man. “Quite a pleasure.”

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The chirping of cicadas rang through the room from the open window. Warm air pushed past the blinds, the humidity from outside forcing strands of hair to cling to the tacky skin of Lucifer’s face. He lay in bed, blankets tangled in a heap around his bare waist as he stared up at the ceiling. He traced the streaks of light cutting across the room, unblinking despite the heaviness of his half-lidded eyes. 

His head was throbbing, thoughts and sounds sharpening to daggers as the subduing oblivion of last night’s drunken stupor wore off. His brain pounded madly against his skull, mouth dry and tongue thick like he’d spent the midnight hours throwing back glasses of sawdust instead of  alcohol.

Lucifer was miserable.

The mission last night was to find a way to outrun the parasitic darkness that had seemingly chosen him a worthy host to cling to, and while he had found success and comfort at the bottom of a bottle, post-inebriation clarity revealed to him that his preferred coping mechanism had never quite rescued him from the storm, rather it threw him a life vest. 

As he kept his stare fixed on the shifting light, stomach churning and one wrong move away from spewing last night’s mistakes, Lucifer quietly admitted defeat, understanding that he was, as he always had been, treading water. Yes, he was kicking helplessly against the devilish currents of the sea. It was only a matter of time before his tired, tired limbs gave out and he descended to his watery grave, never to be seen again. 

The melodrama of his perspective wasn’t lost to him, but such was his reality, or so he thought.

Eventually, he managed to haul himself to the edge of the bed, dropping a pale arm off the side as he felt around for the bottle he knew would be there. Fingertips brushing the cold hardness of glass, he swung his arm back up, nearly hitting himself square in the face as the momentum propelled the empty bottle further than intended. Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise at the near-miss, blinking through the cloudiness of his mind.

He dropped the bottle onto the sheets next to him, flopping onto his front as he buried his head into one of the pillows. He screamed, the noise a muffled cry before it trailed off into a frustrated groan. He huffed, panting into the stale air, considered the benefits of suffocation for a moment, before he rolled right back into his original position to gulp mouthfuls of muggy oxygen. 

Lifting his head, he caught a glimpse of the clock, noting that it was well into the afternoon. 

If you had asked him, Lucifer would tell you that he had absolutely no intention of getting out of bed today, which seemed to be a pretty common occurrence in recent weeks, however if his memory served him right, and in his current state he couldn’t even be sure of that, then this drained bottle next to him had been his last and that simply wouldn’t do. 

He really wasn’t in the mood to run into people. It helped, of course, that he lived a bit farther out of town than the majority of the other residents, ensuring that he never received visitors and saw his neighbors only when he wanted to. The fact that he was new in town was helpful to his cause, too, and his status as a recluse had quickly driven away any of the bolder, more curious of the bunch from coming around to snoop around the fresh meat.

They’d eat him alive if they ever found out who he was.

But, as luck would have it, his self-destructive hierarchy of needs was missing one very crucial, foundational element and if he wanted to waste away into intoxicated bliss again tonight, he would, unfortunately, need to venture out into the great big world for some more booze. 

Oh, happy day indeed.

It was at least another hour before Lucifer pulled himself through the front door. His face was fixed into a scowl as he squinted into the dappled daylight that poked through the mess of trees that surrounded his humble abode. He hated the way the moisture in the air made his clothes cling to his skin, regardless of the fact that he had only barely stepped foot outside. The material was much too thick and absorbent for the region he found himself in, the fabric much better suited for the steadfast cold of London’s daily forecast. 

If he were a better man, maybe he would have gone out to purchase a new, more fitting wardrobe by now. Had he been the Lucifer from a year sooner, he would have made a day out of going to New Orleans’ finest shops, trying on the latest styles and paying an absurd amount of money without so much as a blink of an eye. Charlie would have accompanied him, of course. She’d pick out the bright colors that caught her eye, made him try on gaudy hats and ridiculous patterns, laugh at his model poses and primadonna impressions. 

God, she’d laugh so hard she’d start crying, probably. And he would laugh right alongside her, scooping her up in his arms and twirling her around exactly in the way she liked just to get her to laugh a little harder. The store clerks would eye them distastefully for their ruckus, but would ultimately remain quiet because a moment of chaos and revelry was worth the small fortune they’d be spending at their business.

Lucifer had lived out an entire dizzying afternoon with his daughter by the time he reached the fork in the road that would lead him into town.

Reality hit him like a punch to his chest, swift and cruel.

He blinked under the shade of an oak tree, chastising himself for falling privy to foolish, impossible fantasies and unfulfillable desires. Charlie was nowhere near here, and if the threats he’d been given held any truth, if they held even an ounce of weight, then he would never see his little girl again, either. 

The breath that had been knocked out of him returned slowly and by sheer force of will. When Lucifer finally managed to still his shaking form, he picked up one foot and set it back down on the dirt path in front of him. One. He picked up his other foot and placed it down in front of the first. Two. So on and so forth, he repeated the pattern of placing one foot in front of the other, thinking of nothing else besides the number he was on, counting each step until he reached nearly twelve-hundred. It was then that he stopped and looked up from the dust that coated his shoes and dirtied the hem of his pant legs.

He thanked whatever poor gods assigned to watch over him that the general store was the closest shop to his house. Just the idea of having to venture further into the town for any essentials he may need made his skin crawl. Just the thought of the stares and whispers aimed his way sent a sour taste filling up his mouth. 

At least he could count on Ozzie not to ask too many questions.

The brass door plate was cool to the touch, a pleasant contrast to the wet heat of the outside. Pushing, the wood swung open easily and quietly, his stealthy entrance foiled by the chiming of the door bell that announced his arrival. Cringing at the loudness, Lucifer jumped slightly at the sound, waiting for the heavy footsteps he knew would follow soon enough.

Like clockwork, not a second later he heard the thundering of heavy shoes tromping up the cellar stairs. If Lucifer were capable of it, he’d laugh at the absurdity of the man who was steadily coming into view.

Ozzie was a massive, hulking mass of a man. A lifetime of sea-faring had molded him into a formidable figure with the muscle to back it up. His hair was long and thick, dark locks twisted into dreads and pulled back. His forearms were thick and corded, oozing with the promise of deadly strength, a silent warning to anybody who happened to catch a glimpse of him for the first time. Yeah this guy was not to be trifled with, especially if you were someone like Lucifer, who tended to dwell more in the compact and lean category of male physiology.

Lucifer wasn’t the smartest man alive, this was a fact of life not to be mistaken for humility, please and thank you, but eleven he knew that Ozzie probably wasn’t someone whose bad side you wanted to worm your way into. The man was terrifying: a giant who could crush him without breaking a sweat. And yet, there was something very perplexing about his character that had halted Lucifer in his path when he had first seen him, and that was rooted very precisely in the little details of the man. Lucifer was referring to, of course, the fact that the man liked to wear a dainty pink apron whenever he worked in his shop.

You can see why Lucifer was unnerved, right? To mention or not to mention, the dilemma had Lucifer balking, thoughts teetering between catering to his confusion and giving into the whims of his already tightly-trung, frayed nerves. 

He was nigh pissing himself a month ago when Ozzie introduced himself with a plate of biscuits and a smile. Turns out the apron belonged to his mother and he wore it to honor her legacy. His parents had owned the store and through their hard work had been able to provide for their six children. When they’d gotten too old to run the place, Ozzie had stepped in to keep the business afloat, having just returned from his latest voyage at sea.

Lucifer was oddly emotional listening to his tale, touched by the big man’s gentle heart and warmth, if not a little overwhelmed by the ease with which he told a stranger about his life’s intimate details. Nonetheless, Lucifer was relieved to see that the same degree of openness with which he was greeted was not expected to be reciprocated by him. Ozzie let him keep his secrets, and Lucifer was grateful for that.

“Sam! I thought that might have been you. I was telling Bee just yesterday that it was nigh time we see you around here.”

“Evening, Ozzie.” Lucifer shook the man’s outstretched hand, trying not to wince at the natural tight grip that engulfed his smaller one. “How’s business?”

Ozzie turned back to the register and Lucifer followed alongside him, matching his stride with two of his own. “Busy as usual. You know the ports here get busier every single day. New faces come in and out of this place all the time. I’m just grateful to see someone familiar, you know?” The store owner laughed heartily, a loud, boisterous thing that Lucifer could feel echoing off his chest. His lips twitched into a small smile.

“Glad to know I’m still your favorite customer,” he replied smoothly, trying to keep his tone light.

“Come on now, man, you know you’re more than just a customer. We’re friends now, Sam! Me and the swamp rat, the best of pals.”

“Do people around here actually call me a swamp rat?” Lucifer knew he couldn’t blame them for thinking that if they did, he was never really around to defend himself or prove to them otherwise, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t at least a little bit offended by the title. Ozzie bellowed out another great, big chuckle and patted a heavy hand across Lucifer’s back sympathetically. “Only the folks who’ve never seen you!”

“So, basically the entire town, then?” Lucifer deadpanned, which set Ozzie off into a whole new fit of laughter.

“Aw, come on now, man. They don’t mean any harm by it. They’re just curious, is all. You’re just one big mystery, you know? You blew into town overnight without so much as a whisper and hardly come into town. Folks around here love to talk, you can hardly blame them for letting their imaginations fill in the gaps, can you?”

“I suppose not,” he relented, crossing his arms. “Not to cut to the chase or anything, but do you have–”

“The usual?” Ozzie finished, cutting him off while reaching for something beneath the counter. He hoisted up a small crate and set it down onto the counter with surprising gentleness. The contents tinkled as they rattled in place. “Yeah, I got it.”

Lucifer went red in the face. Maybe due to the fact that Ozzie’s easy smile had twisted into something almost disapproving and there was something that glinted suspiciously of concern in his eyes, or maybe it was because the sound of glass bottles and their promised contents sent a bolt of shame piercing through him. He swallowed past it and reached for his pocket, fumbling around for the bills he had shoved in there on his way out the door.

He couldn’t bring himself to meet his friend’s eye as he placed the money on the counter.

“Um, I’ll take two for now. I, uh, didn’t bring my bike today. I can come by tomorrow and pick up the rest if that’s alright with you?”

“I’ll do you one better,” Ozzie responded, voice soft as he plucked two bottles of whisky from the crate, sliding them over to Lucifer. “Why don’t I swing by later and drop them off at your house?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise, flicking up to meet the taller man’s gaze. He was touched by the offer, if only mildly. There was a greater part of him that tensed immediately at the man’s words, and despite knowing that Ozzie was a good man who had been nothing but forthright and good to him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel on edge and suspicious of someone threatening to invade his space. 

“You would do that?” He asked, trying to keep the edge out of his voice.

“Of course, what are friends for?” Ozzie replied with a wave of his hand. “It’s about time I get to see where you live. I have to convince the town you’re not an actual swamp rat after all, right?”

The tension didn’t leave Lucifer's shoulders, but the nagging suspicion dissipated a little, leaving him to breathe a little easier.

“Besides,” the big man continued, “it’s not like it’s not coming with a price.”

“You want money,” Lucifer stated, already reaching for his pockets. He had no problem paying extra. If it meant he got the rest of it tonight and one less venture into town, he would gladly pay for the delivery.

“No no, I don’t want your money,” Ozzie ushered, batting away the offered cash with a frown. “I want you to come out tonight. My sister, Bee, owns a club just a few streets over. She says she’s got a new band coming in to play, and from the sound of it, this night is aiming to be a good one. Come on, Sam,” he prompted, seeing the hesitance in the other man’s face. “It’ll be fun, I promise. And if you’re still feeling too sober by the time we get there, I’ll buy your drinks the rest of the night. What d’you say, pal?”

No. I say no. Hell no, fuck no, even. At least that’s what Lucifer had wanted to say. Perhaps it was the lingering alcohol in his veins, or the prominent, imploringly wide eyes of the giant across from him, but instead, and despite his better judgment, he found himself nodding.

“I’ll go. Tonight, I’ll go. Just one night.”

“Alright, Sam. Alright then.”

…

Nine rolled around sooner than Lucifer could blink. Ozzie said he would head over his way after closing up shop and Lucifer hardly had time to process his words before his hands began to tingle and his heart started to thud audibly in his chest.

He couldn’t remember the walk to his house, only vaguely registering when he’d sat down on the edge of his bed, some far-gone, reasonable part of his mind wondering when he’d left the general store to begin with. Hours had passed in a blur of shallow breaths that mimicked his thoughts as they zoomed from one extreme to another. Everything and nothing crossed his mind. He considered too much, but not enough. The loud rush of his heartbeat in his ears prevented any single thought from taking root, and just as quickly as it had arrived, it was replaced by another, spiraling idea.

Why had he agreed to do this? That seemed to be one of the few, coherent notes darting around in the mess upstairs. Among other recurring thoughts were ideas of how he could wriggle himself out of this commitment. Perhaps if he drank enough, he would pass out before Ozzie arrived. But fuck, this was hardly enough alcohol. Maybe he could fake it? Under normal circumstances, Lucifer was a shit liar, but maybe the bottles in his hand could provide enough liquid courage to sell it? What if Lucifer forewent lying altogether and just told Ozzie that he didn’t want to go? Would the man accept? Or would he drag his sorry ass to the club regardless? Lucifer didn’t know anything except for the ringing in his ears and the racing of his pulse.

He needed to leave. He tore through the buttons of his shirt, finding the collar far too suffocating as sweat dripped off the side of his face. He needed to leave.

But then there was a knock on the door followed by the dull, twin thuds of heavy somethings hitting the floor beneath him. He glanced down and saw the bottles of whisky he’d been holding since he had left Ozzie’s store. His hands were sweaty and red from where he had gripped them tightly for the past handful of hours, necks clenched tightly in his fists. One of them rolled to a stop against the tip of his shoe.

Another knock came from the door, this one followed by a hesitant, “Sam?”

Lucifer groaned, face paling as he rose from the bed. He swayed on his feet and for a second he thought that he wouldn’t have to fake his unconsciousness before his legs regained their strength and he was able to face down the hallway at his front door.

“Coming,” he called out, shuffling towards the door. He pulled his wrecked shift over his chest, hoping his friend wouldn’t comment on the state of his wardrobe. Opening the door revealed a bright-eyed and freshly re-dressed Ozzie. His hair was loosed from its usual tied-up fashion, thick strands tumbling down between his shoulder blades. He was grinning wickedly as he took in Lucifer’s disheveled appearance.

“Well, it’s not that kind of club, Sam, but if that’s what you’re looking for I can definitely point you in the right direction.”

“Har-har, Oz. Come on in, give me a few minutes to get dressed and we can go.”

“Try not to sound too excited there, pal,” the larger man responded mildly, distracted as he looked around at the small home. 

It was, to put it politely, plain. The bungalow was unassuming on the outside, and the inside wasn’t much different. There were bare walls and minimal furniture, and while not lost to complete squalor, the place was definitely on the untidy side. But hey, Ozzie wasn’t one to judge and really he was just grateful that Sam had allowed him to come to his house in the first place

“Um, how does this look, Oz?”

Lucifer emerged from his bedroom wearing more clothes than he had in well over a month. His torn shirt was replaced with a cleaner, smarter white button-up tucked into simple brown trousers. A matching jacket hung from his hand and he stood unsure, tugging at his clothes as he waited for the verdict. Ozzie let out a low whistle as he eyed the man’s outfit.

“Sam, my man. Well you sure clean up nice, don’t you?”

“It’s not too much? Or, erm, too little? I don’t want to insult your sister by looking like a mess at her club.” 

Ozzie wandered over to his friend and dusted his immaculate clothes before settling his heavy hands on his shoulders. “You look good, Sam. Don’t worry. Have I ever led you astray? Besides, the only issue I see here is how I’m going to manage to fight all those women off of you,” he winked. “I’ll get you home in one piece if that’s what you want, don’t you worry.”

“Sure,” Lucifer mumbled. He shook himself off, forcing his posture to lose some of its stiffness as he slid his arms through his coat sleeves. He was sure he’d be taking it off sooner rather than later, the lack of sunlight only dulling the heat and humidity to a slightly more bearable level. “Well, shall we be off then?”

“We shall.”

The entire journey to Bee’s club was filled with lively chatter. From Ozzie’s end, at least. The man couldn’t seem to find it in him to stop talking about anything and everything. He was in the middle of recounting the riveting tale about how his younger sister, Belle, had fallen off of a dock one summer after they had been tasked with collecting crawdads. Poor thing had been not only soaked, but had to sit through a scolding while their mother picked the crayfish out of her curly hair. Lucifer was only half listening, too wrapped up in his own worry to feel any true sympathy for some past version of his friend’s sister that he had never even met. 

The hard thumping of his heart was back, it felt like a little jockey was riding his heart, pushing it to go faster and faster until he really thought it might just give out. The only thing that seemed to help him was his tradition of counting as he went. One breath, two breaths, three. He would survive the night if he just kept at it. 

Part of him was frustrated with himself for being so dramatic about the whole thing. It was a jazz club for crying out loud, not a fucking battlefield. This wasn’t one of those soirees or galas that his parents used to host. There was no one there he had to impress, no talent he had to sell, no worth he had to prove to anyone. It was just a room full of strangers and music and drinks. He loved to party, didn’t he? He loved people and crowds and dancing, and had spent so much of his life living it up and having fun, soaking in the ambiance of society. Why was this so different? Why was he incapable of enjoying what he never had a problem enjoying before? 

Deep down, he knew why. He was reminded of it constantly, even despite his efforts to drown out the recurring thoughts with alcohol, he knew. But tonight would be different. Tonight he would try and he would have fun because he was with his friend and life hadn’t ended on that lonely English bridge eight weeks ago, even though he really hoped it would.

He could do this. He could stay out and enjoy the night, just this once.

Surely his life couldn’t get any worse, right?

They had pulled up to the club all too soon and Lucifer fought to maintain his breathing steady as he read the sign above the door.

Bee’s Palace

Ozzie smiled encouragingly, sensing his friend’s discomfort as he held the door open for him to pass through first. It was hard to tell from outside since the streets of New Orleans were always teeming with live music from every street corner, but it was clear that this was clearly the place to be for a good time on a Friday night. Together they descended the small set of stairs, immediately engulfed in the loud, brassy notes of a live band. 

The room was cramped and hazy with smoke as bodies moved about the room. Plush red leather booths were pressed into the walls, occupied by patrons dressed to the nines and sipping casually on drinks. The room was dimly lit save for the stage at one end, the light of which reflected off of the polished wood of the dancefloor just in front of it. Couples were dancing, the night in full swing as they twirled and rocked to the beat of the song that was playing. The air felt heavy, sweet with the smell of sweat, perfume, and cigar smoke. Despite the volume of the band, Lucifer could hear light, happy chatter, laughter as people enjoyed themselves, having seemingly left all their problems at the door. Perhaps, he thought, he should do the same.

“Come to the back, Sam. Bee’s running the bar tonight.”

Lucifer strained to hear him, but nodded as he turned to follow his friend to the back of the room. It was an easy task as the crowd seemed to part for the big man and Lucifer was quick to match his pace lest the masses converge on him and swallow him whole. Before long they had made it to a long wooden counter. Manning it was a woman, slender and tall with dark eyes that shone with pure mischief and twinkled brightly despite the reduced light of the room. She struck Lucifer as being very beautiful, but he got the feeling her sweet appearance was not to be underestimated.

“Ozzie!” she cried upon seeing her brother emerge from the sea of people. She threw down her towel and ran around to the side of the bar, flinging her arms around his towering frame as she planted a fat kiss on his cheek. Ozzie returned the embrace and for a moment Lucifer stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself as they went about their intimate greeting. 

“Bee, so good to see you as always. We’ve been missing you around the store, you know?”

“I know Oz, it’s just this place keeps me so busy, especially on nights like this. Forgive me, please?” She smiled cheekily, batting her long eyelashes up at her brother. “I’ll come by and help this week, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ozzie relented before stepping back to reveal his much shorter acquaintance. “Bee, this is Sam. He’s new in town and I figure it’s about time I show him where all the good music is at. Sam, this is my sister, Bee.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Bee. Ozzie has told me a lot about you.”

Lucifer held out his hand, never one to let his nerves and insecurities get in the way of his manners and the instinct to secure a good first impression. Bee regarded him with narrowed eyes and he gulped under the unexpected scrutiny. Her gaze was stony and calculating, like she was stripping him down to his deepest secrets. He was very thankful for the heat in the room as it would provide a logical reason as to why he found himself suddenly sweating up a storm. Finally, Bee’s face broke into a wide grin and she shot a hand out to grab Lucifer’s hand and pull him into a tight hug before also planting a kiss on his cheek.

“We don’t do handshakes around here, kid, not when you’re family at least. My little brother is a good judge of character, so any friend of his is a friend of mine. Welcome to the Palace!”

She let him go and he took in a lungful of air in an attempt to ease his sudden dizziness at having been brushed between arms that were much stronger than they looked. Setting her hands on her hips, she regarded the pair of them happily before crossing back over to the other side of the counter.

“So, what are we drinking tonight, fellas?”

“Two martinis. Dry, please.” Lucifer didn’t miss the way he added the last part quietly, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. Something told him that he’d want to be at least somewhat sober tonight.

As Bee got to work on their drinks, Ozzie and Lucifer slipped onto some stools that had freed up. Settling in, Lucifer turned to ask his friend a question only to find him already engaged in conversation with the couple to the other side of him. It came as no surprise, really. Ozzie and his family were natives and had spent their entire lives in New Orleans. Ozzie himself was also quite the social butterfly, capable of charming his way into friendly chatter with anyone wherever he went. After all, that was how he had gained Lucifer’s favor, was it not? No matter, Lucifer wasn’t a child who needed his hand held at every given moment. He could keep himself occupied until his friend’s attention was free once more.

He felt a nudge on his elbow and turned his head in time to catch the wink Bee sent his way as she slid a glass over to him. He smiled, nodding as he mouthed a small ‘thank you’ before turning back around to look around the room.

Sipping on his drink, he was grateful to taste something other than straight whisky for once. The tang of the gin paired well with the subtle notes of citrus as he was reminded that alcohol didn’t always have to be a grin-and-bear-it experience. Feeling a little more confident in his own dark, little corner of the bar, he let his eyes roam the rest of the room, setting himself up to the task of people-watching.

In the minutes since they had arrived, more people had entered, the room heating up to the point where he felt it appropriate to slip out of his coat and even let out the first few buttons of his shirt. The band was in full swing, the music so alive it seemed to Lucifer that he could almost hear it breathing and moving. Sharp, quick taps of a drum here, staccato notes pouring from a trumpet here, dancing piano keys there, it was beautiful and so unlike anything that Lucifer had heard before. Jazz, shockingly, was not nearly as popular in Europe as it was in New Orleans, where the city seemed to pulse and thrive with every beat of music running through it. 

He listened for a song, fascinated by how seamlessly the players transitioned into the next, nearly indiscernible song after song after song. Eventually, Lucifer had forgotten all about Ozzie. his drink was long gone and replaced with another. He was pleasantly warm and tingly as a result, but he felt good. He felt alive. Much more than he had in recent weeks.

Six songs into his observation is when he noticed them, the pair of devils dancing below the stage. While other couples filtered on and off of the dancefloor, gave themselves time to recover before jumping into the next song, those two hadn’t left, and hadn't stopped dancing once. Lucifer was impressed, to say the least. He was no stranger to loving a good dance, but even someone as passionate as him could see that these two were on a whole new level.

Although he couldn’t see them well from where he was sitting at the bar, it wasn’t hard to miss how the people around them parted to leave a wide berth of space for their enthusiastic choreography. The man and woman were tall, and every once in a while Lucifer would catch a glimpse of dark hair or tight, blonde curls, catch the glinting of light as it reflected off of their wide smiles, and see the flared fury of a skirt being twirled around its owner. 

He was captivated by them, a fascinated smile creeping onto his face before he could stop it. His foot tapped along to the beat against the footrest on the stool, itching for some dancing of its own. Despite his desires, he reigned in his excitement, satisfied with watching for now instead of partaking. Besides, it was clear that he would in no way be able to compete with the two of them, and aside from that, he had no one to dance with and he wasn’t about to impose on some poor, unsuspecting victim. His grin turned rueful as he shook his head slightly to rid himself of the notion and he turned back around to face the bar.

Bee was busy at the other end and Ozzie was still engrossed in his own conversations, his audience having grown in number since the last time Lucifer had cared to take notice. He glanced at his watch, noting that the time was quickly approaching midnight. Surely he had been here long enough that Ozzie wouldn’t protest to him heading back home, right? The thought of sitting around at the bar while he twiddled his thumbs meaninglessly didn’t seem very appealing, and he wasn’t willing to give the public another reason to think him pathetic. He thought he had caught a glimpse of a back door, perhaps he could just slip out there and avoid the embarrassing display of having to fight his way through the crowd of patrons?

His mind was all but made up, the rest of his drink downed, the glass placed back onto the counter on top of a neatly folded bill, when a voice rang out next to him.

“Bee, dear, can I get a gin and tonic and some rye, please? Thanks, doll!”

Lucifer’s gaze found the owner of the voice just as his lips were forming the last few words. He blinked, suddenly finding one of the devils from the dancefloor standing next to him. He froze, one foot planted awkwardly on the floor while the rest of him hung from the edge of the stool about to drop down. His heart, which had found time to repose and recover in the pleasant ambiance of the club, started racing all over again as he looked over the stranger.

He was, in every sense of the word, lovely. Tall, yes, although much taller up close than he appeared from the other side of the room. Slim but broad-shouldered, skin tanned nicely, which Lucifer appreciated as he gazed at his exposed forearms, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up so as to not get in the way of his dancing, he presumed. The man’s jaw was curved sharply, littered with the barest traces of stubble which he traced up to a strong chin and a pair of thin lips which were tilted into an easy grin. Long fingers plucked a pair of fogged eyeglasses from the bridge of a slightly upturned nose and Lucifer would only follow them as they worked to clean the lenses against the fabric of his dress shirt. He was still staring when those glasses were settled back into their proper place, framing a set of wide, dark eyes that blinked back at him.

Lucifer felt like crying as his face burned with the shame of being caught checking out another man. A married man no less, as his mind finally decided to register the fact that there was a gold band on his left hand. He snapped his gaze away, hoping beyond reason that no damage had been done as he hopped down the rest of the way off the barstool, cursing as he stumbled in his slightly tipsy haste and shot a hand out towards the bar to steady himself. 

I need to get out of here now. Forget Ozzie, he would come up with an excuse to tell him later, but right now he really needed to make a beeline for that backdoor. He pushed himself off of the bar when he was sure he wouldn’t fall over again and didn’t make it one step when that damned voice stopped him.

“Leaving so soon?”

Lucifer didn’t want to turn around. Hell, turning around was the last thing he wanted to do. It was the last thing he should’ve done, but there he was, turning to face the stranger because apparently he listened to noone’s orders, even his own. 

“It’s late,” he replied, seemingly incapable now of complex sentences.

“It is,” the stranger replied, leaning on his elbows against the bar. He dragged a slow, lazy gaze up Lucifer’s figure, taking in every inch of him. Lucifer felt like prey under his gaze, frozen as his instincts battled between the urge to fight or flee. “The name’s Alastor,” he said finally, voice light and charming and friendly enough, which did nothing to explain why Lucifer felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Sam,” he said, reaching a hand out to shake the one offered to him. He hoped its trembling would go unnoticed.

“Sam,” Alastor repeated slowly, as though trying out a foreign word for the first time. “It's a pleasure to be meeting you, Sam.” His grin was stretched languidly over his face, dark eyes hooded and shining with interest, looking at Lucifer like he was something new and exciting and worthy of all his attention. Lucifer gulped, his mouth drier than it had been when he woke up that morning as Alastor brought the hand he was shaking up to his face. He turned his wrist, pressing a chaste kiss to the fair skin of Lucifer’s knuckles, all the while keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the smaller man. “Quite a pleasure.”

Lucifer’s stomach dropped as his chest erupted with the feeling of his heart pattering wildly in its ribbed cage. He snatched his hand back, only vaguely registering how Alastor raised an eyebrow at the reaction.

“I have to leave,” he said, trying to hide the thickness in his voice as a lump formed in his throat. Without so much as a second glance, he turned on his heel and darted past the bar and down the hallway until he reached the backdoor. He didn’t stop running until he reached his front door, which he flung open as he tore at the buttons of his shirt. 

Later that night, a trail of clothing could be followed all the way from the front door to his bedroom. Lucifer was curled on his side, mouth hanging loosely from the rim of a bottle. He always drank to forget, but as he was beginning to realize, there were some things that were beyond running from, and his waking nightmares were haunted by the dark eyes of the devil himself.

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