XIII
The unlikely duo spent the remainder of the evening in that booth talking and laughing.
When Charlie mentioned he didn’t want to go straight home, Lucky decided to take him for a slow joy ride to see Hell lit up in its neon-soaked beauty.
He was biased because it was his home, but he felt like Greed was the most beautiful layer—despite what the demon folk over on Lust would say.
The reflection of the warm-hued lights danced along the priest’s glasses, making his pale blue eyes look like fire twinkling atop snow at night.
Lucky barely managed to keep them from crashing due to how captivated he was.
For the first time, he had to admit he was actually feeling something weird for the priest beyond the abnormal horniness.
Something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he was just as confused as he had been back then.
Charlie had passed out on the ride home, so Lucky swung by the high-rise to get the stupid hellhound so it wouldn’t destroy the apartment, and drove them all back to his place.
He wrapped the leash around one wrist with the leftovers dangling around the other, and carried the sleeping Charlie into his penthouse.
Luke and John had grown with enough souls in its stomach to hop up on the bed effortlessly now, and it immediately curled up near the sleeping priest.
The prince spent a while looking at his penthouse.
As much as he loved Hell’s bright lights and sprawling towers, his penthouse was his favorite place.
It was moody in its architecture, all lit up with red lights, gilded trim, and warmth.
But he preferred it with the flames down low and the blinds pulled shut.
It felt like a mausoleum. A sanctuary of black and Art Deco glory, all for him.
After slipping on some lounge pants and a cardigan—without a shirt because why would he cover up his gloriously defined muscles this late into the evening?
—Lucky poured a few glasses of sweet wine and called Gabe.
The archangel must not have been busy because they arrived in their pajamas with a yawn on their lips, long hair a mess and golden gel masks under their eyes.
He handed them a glass and sat on his padded patio chair with a huff.
“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked.
“I’m sorry,” Lucky said.
“For?”
“Hurting you, for fucking up so badly. Over, and over, and over again.”
“It was hundreds of years ago, Lucifer.”
“That means I took too damn long to say it. I mean it, I am so sorry for how I treated you, how I neglected you. You deserved so much better. You still do…” he sighed. “I hope Bub is treating you better.”
A visible tremble ran through Gabe’s wings, enough that a few feathers fell out and spiraled gracefully onto the black stone below. They sat beside him, draping their wings over the back of the chair as they nervously spun the wine glass.
“Are you mad?” Gabe asked.
“More… confused, I guess. Him?” Lucifer asked.
“He’s good to me,” Gabe said with a shy smile, one Lucky hadn’t seen in a while.
“If he’s not you let me know and I’ll beat his ass, alright?”
Gabe cracked a small smile. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“Why?”
Lucky knocked back his drink and set the empty flute to the side. He let his head fall to the side and collected his thoughts. He had such a migraine.
“Despite everything, I still love you. As a friend, as an ex, as a person I admire and respect and care deeply about. I didn’t say it enough because of my own shortcomings, but I’m not afraid to say it now.
I care about you, and Bub is an airhead, so if he makes you upset, or mad, or forgets a birthday or says something dumb, I’ll make sure it only happens once.
Because you deserve better,” Lucky said.
“I think I just witnessed character growth in real time,” Gabe mused uncomfortably. “What’s going on with you?”
“A lot, I don’t know. Reminiscing.”
“Charlie is doing weird things to you.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Lucky grabbed a box of cigars and ripped the packaging off of one of the sweet smelling sticks. He blew out a small flame to light it. As he went to inhale, he felt Gabe’s soft touch against his thigh. Their hand recoiled.
“You feel cold… and your fire looks weak,” they noted.
“I’m tired, that’s all,” he reassured as he gently took their hand.
“Promise me?”
“Are you worried, darling?”
“Of course I am. The perfectly pristine, guarded Prince of Hell I know would never let bags that dark show under his eyes. Never let this particular strand of hair fall to the right instead of the left—” they tucked it behind his horn— “or let his proud tail wrap so defensively like a scared animal around his thigh if something wasn’t wrong.
” Their hand softly rested on his cheek.
He could see the worry increase when his usual warmth hadn’t overwhelmed them. He rolled his face into their touch and gave their soft palm a kiss.
“Maybe something is wrong…”
“We’ll get him home.”
Lucky nodded. That was what he was afraid of.