XX
Charlie refused to go back to the high-rise.
If Lucky were to have been honest, he didn’t want Charlie going back to the high-rise, either.
It felt too dangerous. The priest could hardly pull himself together enough to walk to the parking lot, worried that some monstrous thing would come and snatch him up, so they stayed later than they’d planned to help soothe his mind that most of the workforce would have left by the time he decided he was ready.
It meant Lucky had to order dinner and have it delivered, and get someone to go walk Luke and John, and spend the entire day in uncomfortable clothes only meant to serve as a momentary fix.
All of which was fine if not somewhat annoying.
He didn’t want Charlie more rattled than he already was.
They got a helluva lot of paperwork done because of it.
When Charlie said he was ready, they walked out together with Luke and John on high alert and Charlie sticking close to Lucky.
Charlie, the ever-observant over the dumbest, tiniest nonsense priest that he was, had immediately noticed that Lucky’s parking job left a lot to be desired.
Lucky told him the truth, he’d been worried and stressed.
He didn’t have enough brain capacity after the past few days to think about making sure his vehicle was in the lines or not.
Whether to fill the silence or out of genuine curiosity, Charlie asked what had happened.
It was the thought of losing Charlie to Heaven.
It was listening to all of the souls of the kids in the disaster zone he’d spent days cleaning up, all of the begging and pleading of the lost who didn’t want to go.
It was the stress and chaos and expectations.
It was the wear of existing, but all he could really say was that he’d been stressed.
Moments after they’d gotten in the car, Charlie fell asleep.
Luke and John were getting too big to fit in his lap comfortably, so Lucky had to roll the windows down to let its heads hang out.
His sports car wasn’t meant for more than two people.
Hell, it wasn’t ever meant to be for more than him, but Charlie’s hair and scent and fingerprints were everywhere.
He hadn’t the heart to clean it up, it felt like removing him from the narrative.
And with how big of a scare it had been to realize how easily Charlie could be ripped away, Lucky wasn’t sure he’d ever get around to it.
He carried Charlie into his penthouse with the hellhound following obediently until it saw the chew toy in the corner and went to destroy it.
Lucky deposited Charlie in bed, removed his shoes and glasses, and tucked him in.
He wasn’t all that worried about the outside dirt and germs—especially outside human germs—touching his things anymore so long as it was Charlie’s dirt and germs. He could always burn the linens later if it started to bug him.
At the moment, he didn’t care. He was simply happy the human was still here.
The prince finally got around to taking a much needed and extra-long, extra-hot bath to soothe his aches and the exhaustion.
A bath bomb that smelled of sulfur and oak moss was tossed in, turning the water a deep black as it bubbled.
His tail draped itself over the edge of the tub, dripping water onto the bathmat as he tried to relax from the literal nightmare he’d experienced over the past few days.
It had been so much worse than he’d thought it would be.
He hated disaster zones, war zones, messy workspaces.
He hated seeing so many kids, and he knew it messed Gabe up.
Even after so much time, they still grew uneasy over it. It always left them in both a funk.
He palmed his bath tray and found his phone near his glass of wine. With a few quick keystrokes, he started a new group chat with Bub and Gabe, typed a message, and hit send.
Lucky clapped politely when Gabe’s stupidly graceful body moved and their club made contact with the golfball.
It went flying, pegging the ball retrieval demon in the head and sending the poor worker tumbling into the fire below.
Both he and Bub knew that Gabe was perfect—they’d been designed that way—and did nothing by mistake.
That hit was intentional, they wouldn’t have messed up their incredible score unless they were stressed.
Lucky’s call to blow off some steam seemed beneficial.
The royal family’s private box was full of unhealthy, greasy fried appetizers and finger foods, and a few cocktails.
Bub was on his tenth beer, which was right about when someone of his magnitude, both in otherworldly energy and size, started to feel a buzz.
Gabe had opted for a fruity drink made from the best of Eden’s crops and some imported vodka.
Lucky had been slowly sipping on a mixed cinnamon and hellfire whiskey drink, the ice cubes had melted with how little he was paying attention to it.
He kept checking his security system, watching Charlie sleep and ensuring his sibling hadn’t come to cause more trouble. The blinds were all drawn and it was peaceful at home.
“That job was brutal, man,” Bub said, obviously trying to do his best to open up the conversation so that Lucky would actually talk.
“I must say it’s been a while since we’ve had to deal with something so unexpected.
I already need to schedule another manicure.
I chipped so many nails,” Gabe mused as they looked at their fingers.
“I am, as always, impressed with your efficiency, Lucky. We would still be out there if it weren’t for you handling things.
You have a way with administrative tasks that is quite shocking when compared to the abysmal state of your office. ”
“To be fair, he’s out partying and messing around once he clocks out.
No demon would want to spend their time pushing papers after spending all day on Earth messing with humans,” Bub said with a grin, nudging Lucky in the ribs.
“You should see his office, though! That priest has really whipped him into shape!”
The prince rolled his eyes and scoffed. He sipped his drink again.
“I don’t mind it,” Lucky replied. “The paperwork, I mean. It’s not as boring as it used to be. I kind of like the quiet, being left alone. Not having to deal with everyone needing something from me, needing to track down missing files and psychopomps who can’t handle their workload. It’s annoying.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when party-playboy Lucifer Morningstar Junior would rather be in his office filing than out at the club. When was the last time you got laid, man?” Bub asked.
“Beelzebub, that’s improper,” Gabe chided.
Bub lifted his hands. “Sorry.”
“Not since Charlie got here,” Lucky admitted. He crushed one of the near-melted ice cubs with his fang.
“Whoa, really? You… uh, you doing okay?” Bub asked.
Lucky scrubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “No.”
Gabe set their club to the side and walked over to the sofa. They sat on the arm and pressed the back of their hand on Lucky’s forehead.
“You still feel cold,” Gabe noted.
“I feel off. I feel so weird and guilty and panicked. I decapitated Lucius earlier because he touched Charlie—”
“Holy fucking fuck, man!” Bub gasped.
“Language,” Gabe warned. They turned back to Lucky. “You’ve grown attached, haven’t you?”
“Why not just keep him? Like a pet? We all have—had, had I got rid of mine!” Bub backtracked when he saw the angry look that Gabe threw his way. “Human pets are normal.”
“He’s not a pet! He’s Charlie!” Lucky shouted, standing with angered motions.
He turned to look at the only two people in all of Heaven and Hell he could be this vulnerable with, even though he never had.
His shaking hand clenched and he shattered the whiskey glass.
“He’s Charlie, he’s a good person and he has me so fucked up in the head!
I can’t think straight! I can’t think about anything but him and it’s driving me insane!
I don’t want to get laid anymore, I want Charlie!
I don’t want to party anymore, I want to sit in my office with Charlie!
I want to annoy Charlie and go with him on his stupid walks with his stupid dog.
I want to go home at the end of the day and watch a movie with him, and I don’t want to fucking rule over this circle of Hell!
I don’t want him to leave me! I’m scared! ”
Gabe had already risen from the sofa and approached. They set their hands on his face and cradled his head gently.
“Breathe,” they said soothingly.
“I can’t… I can’t,” Lucky whispered, breath speeding and body shaking.
He squatted, panting and pawing at his chest with a whiskey-soaked hand as he struggled to keep his mind from racing.
His tail wrapped around his leg with such intensity that the heat left scorch marks along his slacks.
The smell of burning fabric lingered in the private box.
“I don’t want to be alone again,” Lucky sobbed.
“You’ve grown attached,” Gabe said.
“No! No, I don’t do that stuff! I don’t do that emotional nonsense!”
“I know… Trust me, I know.”
Lucky flinched. Heartbreak rolled over him. “I’m so—”
“That’s why I know this is different. You’ve formed an actual connection with him.”
Bub lifted himself from the sofa and squatted beside Lucky.
He set a hesitant hand on the prince’s shoulder before letting it move down to his back.
It felt awkward, but the comforting strokes of the demon’s hand helped him calm down.
Being shielded by Bub’s big body and Gabe’s wings, in the privacy of the golf suite where no one could see them, made the expanse of Hell feel so far away.
“I think I love him,” Lucky admitted.