A/N: Because I can. Also, I still don't know why I ship Lucifer/Nick so hard.
"Good morning, Nick."
Lucifer was sitting in the same chair that he always was, next to the bed, angled so that he didn't block the light of the early morning sun coming in through the window. Nick smiled at the sight and stretched, then relaxed again. Lucifer smiled back at him, and it still surprised the human that this being who'd crushed the rest of humanity under his heel was so gentle with him
A soft hand stroked through his hair. "Are you ready to start the day?"
Nick nodded and rolled out of bed.
His clothes had been laid out the night before, a t-shirt, button-up, and jeans; an outfit not unlike what Lucifer wore while possessing him, all in light colors. The archangel wore white now, always white, though not always a suit.
Today was a day of nothing in particular, of resting and walking and enjoying the reclaimed Earth. Lucifer had told him that there were other humans still out there, still fighting the inevitable, but with the archangel, there was only peace, peace he'd been promised when he let the angel in.
The house he lived in now didn't seem to have a definite location tied to it. Some mornings he opened the front door and stepped right out onto a beach, the ocean stretching away towards the horizon. Some days he stepped out onto leaflitter carpeting the floor of a forest where no human had ever been before. Some days it was an endless plain of long grass, sometimes high mountains and alpine meadows, sometimes the shifting dunes of a desert.
Sometimes places he swore weren't Earth.
Today was a mountains day, it seemed. Hellhounds were wrestling on grass that sloped down to a forest surrounding a mirror-like lake ringed by tall peaks (though not as tall as some). Yet there was something familiar… Nick was sure he'd never been here before, but maybe he'd seen pictures once? "Where are we?" he asked, voice raspy from disuse.
"Moraine Lake," Lucifer answered, "Banff National Park. Canada."
Some of the hellhounds stopped wrestling to bound over to them, tails wagging and tongues lolling. Even though his touch stung them, they loved it when Lucifer petted them. At a murmured command from the Devil, they raced ahead of the human and archangel when they started down the beaten-earth path leading away from the front door, the hounds barking and chasing birds and butterflies.
Nick couldn't help but chuckle. They may have been infernal dogs, but they were still dogs.
The two followed the hounds down to the edge of the lake. It was high summer, but the air was still pleasant, the water icy cold. But not nearly so cold as Lucifer had been while inside him, so bone-chillingly cold that the sensation had circled back around to boiling heat. The archangel still felt cold sitting next to him on the shores of the lake, sucking head from the air to fuel his Grace in the absence of Heaven's light.
"I'm going to be going for the next few days," the archangel said at last, "I thought this would be a good place to land."
"It is." Nick stretched out on the grass and sighed softly, a faint breeze tugging at his clothes and hair. "Where will you be going, and why?"
"Missouri," the other answered, "I've had a trap baited for some time. It's finally borne fruit, but I need to be there personally to take advantage of it."
"It's not…"
"For Gabriel? No. He's still out there, but he hasn't stirred up trouble in a while."
They had heard the other archangel calling for help, found him about to be butchered by pagan gods, who had hoped that they could use his power to take down the Devil. Lucifer had put a stop to that, and asked Gabriel if he would fight for him. When the Herald said that he couldn't, Lucifer accepted that in the name of the brotherhood they once shared, and let him go.
The met up with him again after Sam said yes, and gave the hunter's soul into his keeping, since Heaven would have torn the human apart. Sam had convinced the other archangel to try to help what was left of humankind. He would stir up trouble if he thought the demons were going too far with whatever their latest plan was, and had two mostly-concealed enclaves of humans fighting to survive as the Apocalypse wound down to the inevitable end. Lucifer turned a blind eye to both, reigning in the demons when he noticed his brother fighting back and ignoring the (immensely amusing) sight of fields tilling themselves and the occasional tree falling and then building itself into a house.
Lucifer did make an occasional half-hearted attempt to find and capture the other archangel, but really it was just for show and they both knew it.
"Good luck then," Nick sighed.
"You don't want to know what it's for?"
"I can probably take a guess."
Dean Winchester had coordinated a surprisingly effective resistance for a small a group as he led, and was probably the biggest thorn in the Devil's side. Not content with just trying to survive – had he done that, Lucifer would have overlooked him, just like he did the others – but no, he was determined to waste lives and resources on both sides, aiming for revenge against the Devil.
He wouldn't succeed. Nick knew it, sure as daylight. Sure as death.
"I shouldn't be gone longer than three days," said Lucifer, stroking his hair, "but if you need anything, send one of the hounds for Abraxas."
"I know. I will, I promise."
Abraxas, Hell's chief administrator, was one of a handful of demons Lucifer trusted (as much as he did trust demons), and the only one who knew of Nick's continuing existence. All he really wanted was to do his job of keeping Hell in order (unusual for a demon), and so the archangel allowed him an astonishing amount of leeway, including knowledge of exactly how valuable Nick was (and exactly what kind of punishment he would suffer if the human was captured or killed because of him).
Lucifer smiled faintly, then leaned down and kissed him, just a slow, warm press of lips. Nick smiled into it, and tugged the archangel back down when he made to pull away. The archangel hummed and mumbled a few short syllables in Enochian, the angelic language rolling off his tongue in way's it never did the human's when he tried. Lucifer kissed him deeper but still just as slow, taking his time as he always did.
Yet he had no patience for clothing removal; when he stroked a hand down Nick's chest, his shirts vanished before the archangel even touched them. His skin prickled at the slightest brush of Lucifer's admittedly cool hands, nipples pebbling when the archangel's thumbs rubbed slow circles over them.
Nick shivered when his jeans, underwear, shoes, and socks vanished as well, leaving him naked under the still fully-clothed archangel. He made a soft unhappy noise; he wanted to feel the other's bare skin against his own, the weight of him bearing down over top of him, a shadow of the connection they once shared.
(And the echo of it they still did; Nick could always find Lucifer as if he was the man's true north, could sense the general ebb and flow of his thoughts and emotions. But it was no longer the intimate twining of soul and Grace, no longer the pleasure of being joined inside and out.)
Lucifer smiled again, and with the flick of a thought he was as bare as the human. Nick sighed and pulled the angel down on him, seeking out the other's lips for another kiss. Lucifer obliged him – he almost always did – and shifted over him, somehow managing to let much of his weight press down on the human without being oppressive. Nick writhed under him, grinding their hardening cocks together and earning a soft growl from the archangel. He grinned, slightly cheeky, and did it again.
Lucifer growled again and pinned his hips to the grass. Then he fisted their cocks together, making the human arch with a gasp. His hand was cool in sharp contrast to the heat of his shaft, and Nick moaned and tried to buck up into the touch. Operative word being 'tried'; the archangel still had him pressed down by one hand, but that was its own kind of kink. He and Sam weren't that different in height and weight and build, but the archangel living in the hunter's flesh restrained him so easily, held him down and touched and teased him relentlessly until he was begging for release.
Like now. Lucifer pulled away right as he was on the cusp of orgasm. Nick was tempted to call him half a dozen names, but the Devil had never once left him anything less than completely satisfied. He slumped back with a whine and let Lucifer spread his legs.
He was still fairly loose from last night (and the night before that, and the night before that…). Even so, Lucifer opened him gently and stretched him thoroughly before easing inside him. Nick sighed in contentment when they were finally joined, and wrapped his legs around the Devil's waist.
Lucifer's patience was endless in this. He waited until the human was completely relaxed before starting what seemed to be the slowest pace known to man – or at least to Nick. He gritted his teeth and arched into the thrusts, tried to quicken the pace, but the archangel just held him down again. "You've been hurt enough, Nicky," he murmured between warm kisses, "By me, too." Own of his hands drifted over places where his Grace had started burning through soft tissue, skin peeling away from cooking muscle and rivulets of blood staining his clothes. All of that had vanished after a few second of howling agony, after Sam said yes.
A different pain had replaced it. He'd take the physical agony over the spiritual emptiness any day.
Lucifer kissed him again, deeper this time, and a breath of his Grace teased the human's mouth and throat, the promise of possession one syllable away. But even if he said it, Lucifer wouldn't take what he offered (and he had offered, many times). Nick still moaned at the bitterly cold touch of his Grace, shivering as the power stroked over his soul, made it dance.
The archangel started picking up the pace as they both edged toward climax, lifting Nick's hips to improve the angle. The human let out a breathless cry when the angel raked over his prostate once, then again and again. Then Lucifer ran his hands down the other's chest to his cock, his touch nearly sparking with Grace, and stroked him once. Nick came hard, clenching tight around the archangel, and hissed through gritted teeth when Lucifer pressed a hand down over his eyes. He felt the angel's orgasm, felt some pairs of still-injured wings stretch through his body and soul and set him alight again.
The human could have lain there forever, joined with archangel who personally punished the people who had murdered his family, but eventually he started shivering. Lucifer noticed right away – always did – and withdrew to clothe him with a gentle touch, this time with a light jacket over everything else.
In time, they both got up, and resumed wandering the area, following the remnants of trails that nature was reclaiming. There were buildings, too, a visitors' center not too far from one shore, and a few others. Nick looked around but didn't enter.
They headed back to the house when the shadows started lengthening, Nick's stomach growling. Breakfast had been good – vegetarian, like all his meals were now since the archangel was providing them. He had minded in the beginning, but that had been before Lucifer had shown him how good food could be even without meat. Tonight it was pasta with corn and green onions, coated in a rich yet healthy cream sauce, with white wine, garlic bread, and a salad with caramelized almonds and orange slices; delicious as always. Lucifer seemed incapable of giving him anything that was anything less than 5-star fare.
After a short shower, Nick curled up in bed even though it was still a little light out. Lucifer sat down in his chair even as a few of the smaller hounds climbed up onto the bed to curl around the human. The archangel held his hand and softly told him stories about things he had seen from the Cage, tales of history and exploration, the story of humankind told surprisingly true and accurate by the one who hated it the most.
He fell asleep to the sound of the angel's voice. When he woke, Lucifer was gone.
And three days later, the archangel was back again.
