XII
Lucky had been able to snag a reservation at his favorite Italian place on the quieter side of the circle.
He’d managed to convince Charlie that it was safe to go in his car, that he’d behave behind the wheel, but it was too far to walk.
Charlie reluctantly agreed, so they set off after making sure Luke and John got its nightly walk.
The restaurant was as authentic as it could be.
It made sense with so many mafia members from over the years finding themselves in the Circle of Greed alongside demons who shared similar interests.
The menu had home cooked, hand pulled pasta and rich sauces.
Fine wines and perfectly baked bread. It was more of a meeting spot than a casual restaurant, so each booth was essentially its own private dining space with doors to keep conversations hushed.
It would keep Charlie safe and hopefully allow him to feel less uneasy about being in public.
Charlie didn’t like how everyone looked at him, and Lucky didn’t much care for it, either.
They sat on opposite sides of the booth with glasses of red wine and a salad drenched in vinaigrette between them.
The sconce on the wall burned with a low flame, illuminating the box in an intimate and warm manner.
Lucky had picked the place for several reasons beyond Charlie’s privacy and safety.
It was on the more affordable side since it was open to all of Hell and not just the higher ranking individuals, so he wouldn’t blow his entire paycheck on a single bowl of pasta e fagioli.
It was also quiet, something the prince needed for his throbbing headache and something he knew Charlie preferred.
“This is fancy,” Charlie noted.
“And the portions are big so you’ll have leftovers,” Lucky replied as he flipped through the menu that was made of metal so the citizens of Hell wouldn’t burn them while perusing the massive selection of options.
“What do you normally get? I’m unfamiliar with most of these options.”
“Depends on my mood. Sometimes a pasta dish, but I’m a sucker for the nine layer lasagna. It’s the signature dish, it’s a play on the Nine Circles.”
“That’s… kind of cute.”
Lucky smiled. He set his head in his hand. Once again, his tail instinctually wrapped around his thigh in a defensive manner, but this time he took notice of it. He cut his golden eyes down to his leg and noticed it was bouncing. How odd.
“I’d avoid anything with a red sauce. We like things hot and marinara is one of the go-to options the chefs shove spices into. I think the spaghetti and meatball option would come with a cheeky warning label with nukes and scoville scales on Earth,” Lucky said.
“So I should get the Fettuccine Alfredo?”
“Good choice.”
Charlie nodded. He held the menu up to his face.
It was so large that Lucky couldn’t even see his head other than a few messy strands of hair that twisted this way and that.
He’d noticed the young man’s golden glow seemed a little softer, but he was more lively.
The priest had also been more emotional, more aware and less zombie-like than he had been.
He wasn’t falling over as often, he was quick-witted and responsive.
When the prince had asked Gabe about it over a brief phone call the night prior, the archangel mused that his body might be recovering better in the new facility, which would allow his soul more clarity.
A much needed healing of the mind, body, and spirit.
If he kept it up, Charlie could actually wake and return to Earth.
The thought brought the prince joy and a feeling of nausea.
Lucky had stopped by the hospital daily for a short while after his contract list had been completed.
Making sure he was warm, comfortable, rotated so he wouldn’t get bedsores, and bathed.
He talked to him, kept him going. Physically, Lucky hadn’t noticed much change other than the bruises finally fading, and he wasn’t as cold as he had been, but his time in the hospital suite was limited since his contract list had grown exponentially due to his slacking so he didn’t have much of an opportunity to study.
He was balancing two full time jobs and hardly sleeping, but he didn’t know what else he could really do.
He needed to make sure the paperwork was done and make sure he didn’t slack on his contracts.
Both needed his attention and perfection, lest he summon the wrath of his old man.
As much as it made him feel like an utter failure for not being able to handle it on his own, he was thankful that Bub would be helping.
Thankful that Charlie was keeping him on track.
He shakily grabbed his wine glass and took a small sip.
“Is it weird drinking wine outside of Sunday services?” Lucky asked, trying to fill the awkward silence.
“I’m Catholic,” Charlie replied with a sassy tone.
“Fair.”
“I prefer vodka.”
Lucky inhaled his wine and coughed, nearly spilling the glass everywhere as he did.
“That’s… surprising,” Lucky said, a devious smirk rolling over his features. His pointed ear flicked with intrigue.
“Seminary is… stressful. Sometimes I’d sneak a cocktail in, nothing major,” Charlie replied with that signature pink blush running along his freckled cheeks.
Lucky blew out a trail of smoke and pushed the salad bowl closer to the human, urging him to eat.
“Aren’t you the devious little dormouse,” Lucky mused.
“Dormouse? How rude!”
“Have you seen yourself?”
Charlie’s mouth gaped open, unable to believe the audacity. He snatched up the salad bowl and helped himself to a serving. Lucky tried not to snicker. It was adorable watching him struggle.
“Tell me more,” Lucky said quietly.
“More?”
“About you. About the rebellious antics in seminary, your bad boy habits and the non-church stuff. The fun things.”
Charlie looked as if he struggled to come up with something interesting.
Lucky would’ve had little trouble believing that to be the case a few months ago.
After their time spent together in the office, though, he knew better.
Charlie was interesting, he had a lot of little hobbies and quiet wishes.
Lucky had showered the human with gifts of books and knitting sets because of it.
The day prior he’d given him a matcha making kit so he could have it at a temperature that wouldn’t burn the entire way down.
He’d even found a way to sneak a Bible into Hell for him.
A leather-bound, red-letter edition with space to annotate using the fancy new golden pen set that he’d tucked into the bag.
Charlie seemed appreciative and oblivious at the reasons behind the gestures.
“I feel like anything that would interest you would need to be said in a confessional,” Charlie mused.
That piqued the prince’s interest.
Lucky gestured nonchalantly to the enclosed booth, then he picked up a breadstick to point at the wine glass.
“We have bread and wine, an enclosed box, dim lighting, and at least one of us is a priest. I’d say that counts,” he said with a teasing tone.
“Come on, Chuck, tell me everything. Tell me all of the things you never got to shirk off in life. I won’t judge, I already know how good your soul is.
Saying it aloud won’t diminish it, I promise. ”
“Really?”
“Really. You were judged long before you died. Everyone is, that’s why we have files. You admitting things that both Heaven and Hell already know only lets you have a breather, and offers up an interesting conversation in the process.”
Charlie thought about it as the fashionably dressed imp ironically named Alfredo came back to take their orders.
They asked for extra breadsticks and another round of wine to be delivered with the food.
Lucky settled into the booth, stretching his long legs out so the tip of his dress shoe gently brushed Charlie’s ankle.
He might have done it intentionally. Possibly. Maybe. He would never tell.
Lucky sighed with defeat. “You don’t have—”
“I got drunk and made out with my roommate… and I liked it…” Charlie admitted.
Lucky’s throat dried.
“I liked him…”
“O-oh…” Lucky’s heart raced. “Oh! Is that… your preference? Or was it just a spur of the moment thing?”
Charlie shrugged. “I’ve never really… given it much thought.”
“Because of the whole priest thing?”
“Because it wasn’t interesting. Even in high school I never quite understood the appeal of any of it.
I liked it when I kissed him, but I suppose that was because it was him.
I knew him, he knew me. He was intellectual and generous and easy to talk to.
We were stressed because of our program, and I worried it was a mistake and I hated that I immediately felt guilt over it.
I-I did look at the labels and the flags and things.
There are a lot of them, and I got overwhelmed but a few sounded like me.
It was hard to know, though. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about things like my sexuality. ”
Lucky tilted his head. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe?”
Lucky smiled. He gently nudged the wine glass a little closer and leaned in to let him know that he was present and listening.
Charlie started rambling about how he’d catch himself staring at the soccer players in high school, watching wide-eyed behind whatever book he’d grabbed from the library as their legs flexed, but never felt the desire to pursue anything.
How he’d stood outside of a gay bar in a city no one knew him in, unable to go inside but curious to know more.
About how his roommate in seminary had captivated him, and how it hurt when he found the other half of his dorm empty and the man who’d stolen his first kiss gone the following week.
Something he could only assume had occurred due to that good old Catholic guilt.
He spoke about how the typical goal of a wife and kids never really appealed to him.
How it was hard to discern if that was due to his dedication to the priesthood or a lack that came from deep within.
But the heartbreak that followed when that shared moment, brought on by wine and friendship, resulted in him ending up alone again, he’d simply decided being alone was better.
He’d become so invested that it hurt so deeply when it ended.
When he eventually opted to continue on and study for his masters, he’d requested to live alone because getting too close opened up dangerous doors.
It had left him confused, and trying to add a label to it overwhelmed him because he couldn’t make sense of it and had no one to ask.
It cracked his pristine image, and that was scarier than being alone.
Lucky knew that Charlie was an exceptional student.
Charlie hadn’t believed he was prepared enough after seminary, so he’d decided to continue his education but realized it was because he wasn’t quite sure if it was right.
If priesthood was for him. He’d delayed it by a few years and dove headfirst into a difficult path both as a way to force himself to focus on God and his duties, and as a way to push off taking his vows.
Even now he wasn’t sure if it was right. If he was right.
“I feel broken,” Charlie said.
Gently, like a concerned and caring friend—so unlike him—Lucky explained that it sounded like he was demiromantic and ace.
That he’d probably grown fond of the friend due to the close connection they’d shared, and the friendship had turned into something more for Charlie since it was the first time he’d ever allowed himself to step away from the hyper-focus on God and let himself be a human.
That it was normal. That he wasn’t broken or flawed.
It had taken the prince too damn long to realize the same thing.
That he’d done the same thing, and his only true relationship had come crashing down because he didn’t have a grasp of it and his needs.
How he’d come on too strong because he didn’t understand it, and it wasn’t normal for an heir of Hell to be indifferent to such a primary and necessary sin.
Sex was a way to dull the pain and an obligation as he’d worked his way down the Circles of Hell, but it never left him fulfilled, merely drunk on the release for a while.
He’d never been good at forming relationships.
His upbringing as royalty, as something untouchable that needed to be perfect, left him lacking in social skills.
Other demons were dangerous, not to be trusted.
Friends were non-existent, so when his heart had grown too invested in the beautiful angel who’d taken the time to know him, he’d overdone it.
Lucky knew exactly how Charlie felt, but the devil wasn’t as self-aware as the human.
Wasn’t as mature or able to understand enough to be introspective about it when it mattered.
He drank his problems away and became a bigger menace to put up the walls that would keep his heart from breaking again.
Saying it aloud for the first time made him realize how big of an idiot he’d truly been.
How much he’d hurt Gabe, and himself. He felt like he needed to call them to apologize.
“You promise it’s normal?” Charlie asked quietly as the food arrived.
“You’re so normal you’re borderline boring, Chuck,” Lucky said with a soft tone, a little playful but reassuring.
“Thank you.”
Lucky threw him a wink as he reached out to grab the scalding plates from Alfredo.
He set Charlie’s pasta down and told him to be careful while the priest moved the wine glasses.
They were left alone again and silence fell over the booth.
It was a comfortable silence, one that Lucky didn’t think needed to be filled.
Watching Charlie enjoy his meal with those sparkling eyes and that hint of blush on his cheeks was enough.