AN. The first song is 'Blinding Lights' by The Weeknd and the Second is 'You put a Spell on Me' by Austin Giorgio.
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Lucifer tapped his fingers against his glass after he regained control of his laugh, gaze flickering with thought.
"Embarrassing?" he mused, tilting his head. "I suppose the problem is, dear Doctor, I'm rather shameless."
Stephen rolled his eyes. "Shocking."
Lucifer grinned.
"Truly, it must be a burden, being around someone as endlessly self-possessed as I am," he teased.
Stephen arched a brow. "It is."
Lucifer laughed, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
"But really," he continued, "what could possibly embarrass someone as old as me?"
Stephen considered that for a moment. "What about your childhood?"
Lucifer paused as something unreadable flickered in his gaze.
Stephen saw it—felt it.
Then, with an easy smile, Lucifer said, "Didn't have one."
Stephen blinked. He hadn't expected that. "What?"
Lucifer shrugged, tone light. "I was created already grown. No childhood, no adolescence. Simply here."
Stephen shifted, uncomfortable with the otherworldliness of it.
Lucifer noticed and changed the subject.
"Perhaps not an embarrassing story," he mused, setting down his glass and pushing away from the bar. "But a fond one?"
Stephen watched as Lucifer moved effortlessly through the space, as if he owned it—graceful, commanding, utterly at ease.
Lucifer settled in front of the piano, fingertips ghosting over the keys before pressing down gently, a soft note ringing through the air.
"You know," he murmured, his voice taking on a low, nostalgic warmth, "I was the one who introduced music into the Host."
Stephen stilled when Lucifer's golden eyes flickered with something distant.
"Between battles," he continued, fingers idly playing a quiet melody, "I would sing. To uphold morale, to give them something beyond war. And my siblings—" A small, almost wistful smile. "They would follow me."
The notes he played were soft, slow, carrying something achingly ancient.
Stephen felt something in his chest tighten when Lucifer exhaled, gaze distant.
"They at least kept some of that part in the Bible," he said lightly. "Even if it doesn't mention my involvement, I'm glad for the recognition."
Stephen swallowed when he realized this was different. It wasn't arrogance, nor some grand declaration of power.
This was a piece of something Lucifer actually cared about. And Stephen, against all reason, against all better judgment, wanted to hear more.
So, he watched the way Lucifer's fingers moved over the keys—effortless, fluid, natural. The soft notes humming through the air, filling the space without overwhelming it.
It was… peaceful.
Before Stephen could stop himself, he moved and settled onto the bench beside Lucifer, and said, "Sing me one of them."
Lucifer blinked, but Stephen looked at him, unwavering.
"One of the songs you sang to them, with them," he clarified, voice quieter now. "Back then."
Lucifer's lips parted, something unreadable flickering behind his golden gaze. For a moment—just a fraction of a second—he looked almost… sad. Then, with an exhale, he glanced away, fingers pressing a few idle keys.
"My true voice," he murmured, "is not meant for mortal hearing."
Stephen stilled.
Lucifer's tone was light—but Stephen could feel the weight of it and the unspoken truth beneath the words. The knowledge that—no matter what—Lucifer could never fully share that part of himself was, for some reason, painful.
Lucifer, as always, did not let the moment linger.
Instead, he smirked.
"Luckily for you, Doctor," he said, mischief curling at the edges of his voice, "I have excellent taste in music and this body's voice can sing so well."
Lucifer's fingers moved, pressing into the keys with familiar confidence. A new rhythm, upbeat and teasing, came. It sounded too modern. He frowned slightly, mind already working.
"I've been tryna call…"
He knew music. He loved music.
And yet—Stephen couldn't recognize it. And he knew Lucifer knew that, too, because when he turned his gaze toward Stephen, his golden eyes were glinting.
"I've been on my own for long enough…"
The words were smooth, effortless, playful.
"Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe…"
But, nothing. The melody, the lyrics—they didn't exist. Not in any album he knew. Not in this decade.
It was strange.
His brain itched to place it, to categorize it, to know.
But all of that was secondary because Lucifer's wing was curling against him.
Light, warm, soft as silk.
Stephen forced himself to stay still, pretending he didn't notice as Lucifer kept singing. He tried not to focus on the closeness, on the fact that Lucifer wasn't just sitting beside him—He was leaning in, slightly.
"I'm going through withdrawals…"
Stephen swallowed.
He needed to focus.
The song. The damn song.
His brain fought to recall it, to categorize it, to pull it from the vast mental library of music he had spent his entire life collecting—But it wasn't there. Not anywhere.
The notes, the arrangement—they felt too modern.
And Lucifer—oh, Lucifer looked far too entertained.
"You don't even have to do too much
You can turn me on with just a touch, baby "
The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.
Stephen shifted, just slightly—And the wing moved with him, brushing against his skin.
Soft. Warmer than he expected.
He should have pulled away when his pulse stuttered. He should have corrected his posture, straightened his shoulders, made some dry remark to cut through the growing tension. Instead, he leaned into it. Just a little.
Lucifer's voice didn't falter. Actually, he looked delighted and Stephen swore he felt the wing curl just a fraction tighter. Like it had been expecting him to. Like it had been waiting.
Stephen's heart kicked hard in his chest.
He forced his voice to remain steady as he asked, "Where's that song from?"
Lucifer smirked against the melody, not stopping. "Ooh, I'm blinded by the lights…"
Stephen gritted his teeth.
"I don't recognize it," he pressed. "And I know music."
Lucifer finally—finally—lifted his fingers from the keys, the last note lingering in the space between them. Then, with obvious amusement, he turned to Stephen, golden eyes glinting.
"Do you?" he mused.
Stephen narrowed his eyes.
"Well then," Lucifer said, voice dripping with delightful mischief, "consider this an exclusive preview."
Stephen blinked. "Exclusive preview of what?"
Lucifer chuckled, fingers tapping lazily against the piano.
"Ah, Doctor," he sighed, tilting his head. "That would be telling."
Lucifer was being infuriating, no surprises there. Stephen tried to move away. However, he forgot about the wing. So he really hadn't meant to lean in. Hadn't meant to press into the impossible warmth of the wing curling around him.
And he sure as hell hadn't meant to almost nuzzle it when he realized what just happened.
He was simply shaking his head in surprise.
The world felt still when Lucifer stopped playing the piano and Stephen froze when reality crashed back into him, like ice-cold water over his skin. He pulled back—too quickly—like a man caught in something he wasn't supposed to want.
Lucifer's expression was unreadable, but Stephen saw the sharpness of his golden gaze. Saw how his lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable dancing behind his eyes.
Stephen's heart pounded. His face felt hot, so he glared, as if challenging Lucifer to say something, to make some smug remark.
Lucifer's lips curled into a wicked smirk as he started singing again.
"You put a spell on me…"
His voice was low, rich, teasing.
"I'm losing my mind…"
He leaned in—not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel. The air between them shifted, charged, almost crackling, and Stephen swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn't go down.
"You better stop these things…"
Lucifer's voice was a slow drag of velvet, golden eyes watching Stephen like a hunter closing in.
"It's just a matter of the time…"
Stephen exhaled, feeling lightheaded, dazed as Lucifer did a small pause, before he continued.
"Before I hunt you down, grab your chin and kiss your lips."
It was too much.
Lucifer's voice, the heat of him, the damn wing still lingering in his space. Every part of Stephen's body was telling him to move, to back away, to regain some kind of control.
But he didn't. Couldn't.
Lucifer's smirk deepened.
"You bring me back, I lay you down, and grab your hips… And we lose all control..."
Stephen's fingers curled against his own thigh, like he needed to ground himself. Like he needed to stop himself from doing something stupid.
"And before you know it," Lucifer's voice dropped even lower, just above a whisper. "I put a spell on you. Now you're mine…"
The distance between them was almost nonexistent.
Lucifer was so close. Too close.
Stephen's breath hitched when Lucifer tilted his head slightly, watching him. Waiting. And Stephen knew that if he moved even an inch forward—If he let himself give in—He would be lost.
Stephen's breath was unsteady. He couldn't help how his lips parted slightly. Golden eyes flickered to his mouth, tracking the movement.
Stephen felt the weight of that gaze, the impossible heat curling between them, the closeness that was too much and not enough all at once.
If he leaned in just a little more, if he gave in to the pull dragging him toward Lucifer like gravity itself, he would not stop.
His mind scrambled, desperate to grasp onto something, anything, to pull himself back.
This was a bad idea.
He just met Lucifer yesterday. Lucifer, who was insufferable and smug. Too smug.
Except for those times when he smiled at him with honest delight and when he listened with genuine curiosity, enthused at learning something new about him. He kind of liked how his damn wings betrayed him because they were so expressive and uncontrolled.
So honest.
Wait.
No. No, no, no.
He didn't know Lucifer.
He didn't.
Stephen's pulse hammered in his throat, in his wrists, behind his ribs.
Lucifer hadn't moved or pushed forward. He also hadn't pulled back, either, seemingly fine with just watching him.
Waiting.
And that was dangerous.
Stephen's breath stilled as his fingers curled slightly.
Then—before he could do something reckless—He moved.
Not away and not closer.
But—just there.
Forehead pressing softly against Lucifer's, eyes open, breaths mingling in the inches between them.
Not a kiss.
Not space.
He just needed a moment.
Stephen didn't know if he was closing the distance or creating it. Didn't know if he was keeping himself from falling or letting himself be caught. But for now—For now, this was enough.
Lucifer exhaled, almost like a chuckle, low and amused.
But when Stephen felt it against his lips—warm and steady—He almost moved in anyway.
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So, I had a month of no updating mostly because my account on AO3 was suspended because of a comment I made about a paying site that I will not mention (because apparently just mentioning the name is enough). Though I do admit that while I wrote in this free month, it wasn't much. Mostly because now that I'm in the final steps of the process of buying a house. I will sign the documents and receive the keys this Thursday so wish me luck.
Also, I'm studying at the same time I'm working. Btw, I've been promoted and got a new role since the start of this month, so yay for that! (And for the extra stress)
I'm sorry for the delay, but now I should be able to update weekly once again.
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Also, if you want to support me and read chapters ahead, go to my p@treon: JorieDS