he is here (lucifer, 2x16: "god johnson", angst/horror, vomiting)
Summary:
My extended outtake of 2x16, "God Johnson", giving a little more drama to Lucifer's revelation of their suspect.
Work Text:
“It was real good seein’ you, Samael.”
The human’s Southern drawl did nothing to impair the gravity of those words.
Lucifer froze, his skipped heartbeat landing with a flip in the pit of his stomach, roiling sickeningly. Shock surged through him, and he turned, slowly, leveling the amicable bearded human with the severest of glares. No. He couldn’t.
“…what did you just say?” A growling echo of his true voice slid into the query, low and dangerous.
God Johnson smiled again, his blue eyes twinkling. “Tell your mother I said hello, will ya?”
No sound escaped, but Lucifer couldn’t help the wordless formations of protest that shaped his lips, opening and closing and clenching his throat. Then, beneath the stupendous shock, a burning rage mounted.
The door opened, and a scowling orderly stepped into the room. “You’re not supposed to be in here. Your partner applied for a special investigations permit that’s still being cleared.”
Fire ignited his blood, sweeping away the pandemonium of denial that mingled with the poisonous dread. “Very well,” he bit out, using every accumulated vestige of strength to merely sniff and straighten his lapels. “I’m quite finished talking to this fraud, anyway.”
There was no way that human - God Johnson, what a ridiculous and masturbatory title! - could have known his name. He hadn’t even introduced himself, much less as Lucifer Morningstar, which could have offered a weak explanation on the grounds of that human possessing a highly intimate and highly unlikely knowledge of the divine. He’d have had to have been a serious Bible-thumper to know Samael, and to make the connection so quickly. The former oil tycoon he’d just spoken to was merely delusional, suffering from a nasty peppering of DSMs that he couldn’t even begin to name (but Dr. Linda probably could), and he was certainly not possessed by Lucifer’s own father.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, jerking his shoulder away from the orderly accompanying him once they’d reached the main hallway. “I’m quite capable of seeing myself out, thank you.”
The sick bastard was playing games with him. Mind games, they were a staple here, weren’t they? Lucifer stormed down the hallway, gut roiling and thoughts racing, until he collided with another orderly exiting a patient’s empty room.
“Hey, watch it, pal.” The scrub-clad man grunted, shrugging as if to deflect Lucifer’s touch.
Lucifer said nothing, but let some of the rage swell through the cracks of his own human façade. Red shone around the edges of everything, and rainbows glowed upon every fluorescent ceiling light. Every heartbeat from every human amplified a thousand times, echoing through the soundwaves in the air. Fear surged ripe. The orderly gasped, his eyes going huge as dinner plates, and promptly scrambled in the other direction.
“Hey!”
He turned, again, to see Chloe running down the hall. A fleeting spark of happiness at seeing her was enough to dissolve the devil eyes, and with a suffering sigh, Lucifer assumed his humanity once more. “Detective,” he greeted, straightening up and forcing a tight smile, going for cheeky but falling at anxious.
“What the hell did you do, Lucifer? I just had to apply for a special investigations permit so we could interview the rest of the patients, and that might take up to 72 hours to process!”
“Why go through all that trouble, Detective? I didn’t utilize a permit to speak with God Johnson just now.”
“Exactly! Now, this whole investigation is set back three more days. Why were you even in there, Lucifer? What is your obsession with this…God Johnson guy?”
It was real good seein’ you, Samael.
Lucifer’s forced smile tightened further, the corners of his mouth hardening as his jaw clenched visibly. “I hate a liar more than an impersonator, and God Johnson happens to be both.”
Tell your mother I said hello, will ya?
Chloe shook her head, face contorting with confused exasperation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Detective Decker?” A small matronly woman in scrubs approached them, holding a clipboard and blinking upwards through myopic old eyes. “I have some forms for you to fill out, from Doctor Wesley.”
Lucifer felt something rile up inside him again, rising foul and bitter in the back of his throat. Distantly, he heard Chloe responding to the nurse, or receptionist, or whoever she was, right now he didn’t bloody care.
It was real good seein’ you, Samael
Samael
Samael
“God,” breathed Lucifer, eyes darting over the dirty floor tiles without seeing anything, panic and shock and horrible burning rage and insidious nausea all roiling within, contending for escape. “God is here.”
“God is everywhere,” nodded a simpering bald patient in a robe and Mr. Magoo glasses, from his doorway.
“God-” rasped Lucifer, and abruptly doubled over with a sudden gagging retch as the nausea won out. Bile splashed onto the tiles, dirtying the floor even more, and he heard Chloe and the nurse gasp in unison. In the background, one of the patients wandering the hall, upset by the commotion, began to squawk like a bird, and two orderlies struggled to calm him.
“Lucifer,” whispered Chloe, one hand gripping his arm while the other rubbed steadying circles on his back. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”
He blinked through the tears, struggling to catch his breath, his heart pounding. A roll of paper towels was thrust at him, and he absently took it, going through the motions of unraveling. “God…is here,” he repeated. “My father…is here, right now, on Earth.”
The squawking patient was ushered back into his room, but his alarm had set off a couple of the others, and eerie moans and distressed grunts now filled the hallway. More scrub-clad orderlies and nurses came jogging, and a white-coated doctor brought up the rear, syringe at the ready.
Another small hand came to rest on his back, and he heard the elderly nurse speaking to him in a calm and very tired voice. “Sir? Why don’t you have a seat here, and I’ll have the doctor come over-”
“No,” he ground out, pushing aside both the nurse and Chloe and staggering away, heading for the exit.
He didn’t care about the mess, or about Chloe calling his name. Right now, he just needed to flee.
Dad was here on Earth, and he needed to talk to Amenadiel.
Not for the first time since his arrival here, he needed a consult from the divine. But, more importantly, he needed reassurance that he wasn’t losing his mind and that everything was, in fact, going to be okay.
He wanted his big brother, insufferable ego be damned.
My extended outtake of 2x16, "God Johnson", giving a little more drama to Lucifer's revelation of their suspect.
Work Text:
“It was real good seein’ you, Samael.”
The human’s Southern drawl did nothing to impair the gravity of those words.
Lucifer froze, his skipped heartbeat landing with a flip in the pit of his stomach, roiling sickeningly. Shock surged through him, and he turned, slowly, leveling the amicable bearded human with the severest of glares. No. He couldn’t.
“…what did you just say?” A growling echo of his true voice slid into the query, low and dangerous.
God Johnson smiled again, his blue eyes twinkling. “Tell your mother I said hello, will ya?”
No sound escaped, but Lucifer couldn’t help the wordless formations of protest that shaped his lips, opening and closing and clenching his throat. Then, beneath the stupendous shock, a burning rage mounted.
The door opened, and a scowling orderly stepped into the room. “You’re not supposed to be in here. Your partner applied for a special investigations permit that’s still being cleared.”
Fire ignited his blood, sweeping away the pandemonium of denial that mingled with the poisonous dread. “Very well,” he bit out, using every accumulated vestige of strength to merely sniff and straighten his lapels. “I’m quite finished talking to this fraud, anyway.”
There was no way that human - God Johnson, what a ridiculous and masturbatory title! - could have known his name. He hadn’t even introduced himself, much less as Lucifer Morningstar, which could have offered a weak explanation on the grounds of that human possessing a highly intimate and highly unlikely knowledge of the divine. He’d have had to have been a serious Bible-thumper to know Samael, and to make the connection so quickly. The former oil tycoon he’d just spoken to was merely delusional, suffering from a nasty peppering of DSMs that he couldn’t even begin to name (but Dr. Linda probably could), and he was certainly not possessed by Lucifer’s own father.
“Don’t touch me,” he snapped, jerking his shoulder away from the orderly accompanying him once they’d reached the main hallway. “I’m quite capable of seeing myself out, thank you.”
The sick bastard was playing games with him. Mind games, they were a staple here, weren’t they? Lucifer stormed down the hallway, gut roiling and thoughts racing, until he collided with another orderly exiting a patient’s empty room.
“Hey, watch it, pal.” The scrub-clad man grunted, shrugging as if to deflect Lucifer’s touch.
Lucifer said nothing, but let some of the rage swell through the cracks of his own human façade. Red shone around the edges of everything, and rainbows glowed upon every fluorescent ceiling light. Every heartbeat from every human amplified a thousand times, echoing through the soundwaves in the air. Fear surged ripe. The orderly gasped, his eyes going huge as dinner plates, and promptly scrambled in the other direction.
“Hey!”
He turned, again, to see Chloe running down the hall. A fleeting spark of happiness at seeing her was enough to dissolve the devil eyes, and with a suffering sigh, Lucifer assumed his humanity once more. “Detective,” he greeted, straightening up and forcing a tight smile, going for cheeky but falling at anxious.
“What the hell did you do, Lucifer? I just had to apply for a special investigations permit so we could interview the rest of the patients, and that might take up to 72 hours to process!”
“Why go through all that trouble, Detective? I didn’t utilize a permit to speak with God Johnson just now.”
“Exactly! Now, this whole investigation is set back three more days. Why were you even in there, Lucifer? What is your obsession with this…God Johnson guy?”
It was real good seein’ you, Samael.
Lucifer’s forced smile tightened further, the corners of his mouth hardening as his jaw clenched visibly. “I hate a liar more than an impersonator, and God Johnson happens to be both.”
Tell your mother I said hello, will ya?
Chloe shook her head, face contorting with confused exasperation. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Detective Decker?” A small matronly woman in scrubs approached them, holding a clipboard and blinking upwards through myopic old eyes. “I have some forms for you to fill out, from Doctor Wesley.”
Lucifer felt something rile up inside him again, rising foul and bitter in the back of his throat. Distantly, he heard Chloe responding to the nurse, or receptionist, or whoever she was, right now he didn’t bloody care.
It was real good seein’ you, Samael
Samael
Samael
“God,” breathed Lucifer, eyes darting over the dirty floor tiles without seeing anything, panic and shock and horrible burning rage and insidious nausea all roiling within, contending for escape. “God is here.”
“God is everywhere,” nodded a simpering bald patient in a robe and Mr. Magoo glasses, from his doorway.
“God-” rasped Lucifer, and abruptly doubled over with a sudden gagging retch as the nausea won out. Bile splashed onto the tiles, dirtying the floor even more, and he heard Chloe and the nurse gasp in unison. In the background, one of the patients wandering the hall, upset by the commotion, began to squawk like a bird, and two orderlies struggled to calm him.
“Lucifer,” whispered Chloe, one hand gripping his arm while the other rubbed steadying circles on his back. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”
He blinked through the tears, struggling to catch his breath, his heart pounding. A roll of paper towels was thrust at him, and he absently took it, going through the motions of unraveling. “God…is here,” he repeated. “My father…is here, right now, on Earth.”
The squawking patient was ushered back into his room, but his alarm had set off a couple of the others, and eerie moans and distressed grunts now filled the hallway. More scrub-clad orderlies and nurses came jogging, and a white-coated doctor brought up the rear, syringe at the ready.
Another small hand came to rest on his back, and he heard the elderly nurse speaking to him in a calm and very tired voice. “Sir? Why don’t you have a seat here, and I’ll have the doctor come over-”
“No,” he ground out, pushing aside both the nurse and Chloe and staggering away, heading for the exit.
He didn’t care about the mess, or about Chloe calling his name. Right now, he just needed to flee.
Dad was here on Earth, and he needed to talk to Amenadiel.
Not for the first time since his arrival here, he needed a consult from the divine. But, more importantly, he needed reassurance that he wasn’t losing his mind and that everything was, in fact, going to be okay.
He wanted his big brother, insufferable ego be damned.