.
NOW, YOU BEHAVE LIKE AN ANGEL SHOULD
sam/lucifer. spoilers for 5x03. rated pg. ~644
Lucifer finds him in his sleep again.
(c) title from angel by sarah slean
a/n: for chica_charlie. thanks to spilled_notes for the love and awesomepants87 for reading this over.
Now, you behave like an angel should
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions
-- the love song of alfred j. prufrock, t.s. eliot
Sam wants to convince himself that the tenderness he saw in Lucifer's eyes is only the vessel finding his way to the surface again. He doesn't sleep that night, frightened by the lingering touch of those tainted hands on his cheek, a breath of cold on his skin that he can't shake off, even when morning comes.
-
Lucifer finds him in his sleep again.
It's only a week later, as if like clockwork, and he shows up, perched on the edge of a wooden chair in whatever motel Sam managed to stumble in to. (He left Garber the morning after Lucifer showed up the first time-thought it would help, cover his tracks like they-refuses to say their names yet, still-taught him to, because he's getting better at when he only has himself to hide, but it doesn't make a difference.)
“You are stubborn,” he says.
Sam doesn't turn over in bed. Can feel the weight of Lucifer's gaze as he pulls the blanket around his head, counting in his head, just like when he was a kid and couldn't just will the monsters away.
“Sam.”
Sam doesn't move. Pretends not to hear.
“Please. Just look at me.” Sam hears his footsteps on the linoleum. He shudders. “I know how hard this is for you.”
“No,” Sam spits out. He clenches his fists into the sheets. “No.”
“It will be easier if you just let me in,” Lucifer says and his voice is too comforting, too familiar, too gentle. “If you trust me.”
The bed shifts with a sudden weight and Sam is startled, scrambling across the uneven bed, onto the floor, gets as far as he can before he hits the wall. Lucifer has his hand out, palm down: he curls his fingers into his palm and lets his hand fall to his lap.
(He looks defeated, broken-hearted, when he glances towards the door.)
“Don't touch me again.” Sam is breathing too quick and heavy for his head to stop spinning. He blinks and bursts of light flood his vision. “Don't.” He closes his eyes-his skin stings, uncomfortable, at the thought.
“I trust you.” Lucifer rises from the bed. He walks over to the table, picks up a book Sam just bought at used book store, fingers it, curious and impassive. “I thought we could share that with each other.”
“Just leave me alone.” Sam realizes he sounds like he's begging-he's not, he's not, he's going to fight this and bury it when it finally dies. (He hates himself, but not enough.)
Lucifer sighs. “I wish I could, Sam.” He sets the book down, a muffled thump in the empty, small room. He still doesn't look back at Sam. “I wish I could end this all for you right now. It will end, I promise. But, right now, you have to trust me.”
Sam lets out a helpless cry, digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He looks up when he feels the icy fingers on his bare skin. (Such kind eyes and Sam can believe he was an angel once when the world was young.) Lucifer's hands rest on his neck, fingers spread out across his shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft, slow circles on burning, human skin.
“I promise,” Lucifer murmurs, “this weight will be lifted. I promise you.”
Sam finds himself leaning into the touch, breathing in the calm that he hasn't felt in so long-he forgets that this is the devil.
“Just trust me.” (Sam's sure he can feel the ghost of the words on his lips.)
Sam's eyes flutter closed and the fingers are gone, hot air rushing to fill the bare spaces of Sam's neck. There is no hush of wings, not like with the other angels-just the sense of overwhelming and terrifying peace.
-
end.
sam/lucifer. spoilers for 5x03. rated pg. ~644
Lucifer finds him in his sleep again.
(c) title from angel by sarah slean
a/n: for chica_charlie. thanks to spilled_notes for the love and awesomepants87 for reading this over.
Now, you behave like an angel should
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions
-- the love song of alfred j. prufrock, t.s. eliot
Sam wants to convince himself that the tenderness he saw in Lucifer's eyes is only the vessel finding his way to the surface again. He doesn't sleep that night, frightened by the lingering touch of those tainted hands on his cheek, a breath of cold on his skin that he can't shake off, even when morning comes.
-
Lucifer finds him in his sleep again.
It's only a week later, as if like clockwork, and he shows up, perched on the edge of a wooden chair in whatever motel Sam managed to stumble in to. (He left Garber the morning after Lucifer showed up the first time-thought it would help, cover his tracks like they-refuses to say their names yet, still-taught him to, because he's getting better at when he only has himself to hide, but it doesn't make a difference.)
“You are stubborn,” he says.
Sam doesn't turn over in bed. Can feel the weight of Lucifer's gaze as he pulls the blanket around his head, counting in his head, just like when he was a kid and couldn't just will the monsters away.
“Sam.”
Sam doesn't move. Pretends not to hear.
“Please. Just look at me.” Sam hears his footsteps on the linoleum. He shudders. “I know how hard this is for you.”
“No,” Sam spits out. He clenches his fists into the sheets. “No.”
“It will be easier if you just let me in,” Lucifer says and his voice is too comforting, too familiar, too gentle. “If you trust me.”
The bed shifts with a sudden weight and Sam is startled, scrambling across the uneven bed, onto the floor, gets as far as he can before he hits the wall. Lucifer has his hand out, palm down: he curls his fingers into his palm and lets his hand fall to his lap.
(He looks defeated, broken-hearted, when he glances towards the door.)
“Don't touch me again.” Sam is breathing too quick and heavy for his head to stop spinning. He blinks and bursts of light flood his vision. “Don't.” He closes his eyes-his skin stings, uncomfortable, at the thought.
“I trust you.” Lucifer rises from the bed. He walks over to the table, picks up a book Sam just bought at used book store, fingers it, curious and impassive. “I thought we could share that with each other.”
“Just leave me alone.” Sam realizes he sounds like he's begging-he's not, he's not, he's going to fight this and bury it when it finally dies. (He hates himself, but not enough.)
Lucifer sighs. “I wish I could, Sam.” He sets the book down, a muffled thump in the empty, small room. He still doesn't look back at Sam. “I wish I could end this all for you right now. It will end, I promise. But, right now, you have to trust me.”
Sam lets out a helpless cry, digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He looks up when he feels the icy fingers on his bare skin. (Such kind eyes and Sam can believe he was an angel once when the world was young.) Lucifer's hands rest on his neck, fingers spread out across his shoulders, thumbs rubbing soft, slow circles on burning, human skin.
“I promise,” Lucifer murmurs, “this weight will be lifted. I promise you.”
Sam finds himself leaning into the touch, breathing in the calm that he hasn't felt in so long-he forgets that this is the devil.
“Just trust me.” (Sam's sure he can feel the ghost of the words on his lips.)
Sam's eyes flutter closed and the fingers are gone, hot air rushing to fill the bare spaces of Sam's neck. There is no hush of wings, not like with the other angels-just the sense of overwhelming and terrifying peace.
-
end.