Chuck has been living in this shitty house for too long. Years really. It was cheap so right when he got out of college, the biggest most expensive waste of his life, he bought this place up pretty quickly. The faucets are always leaking. You can hear the dryer from any room in the house, and the wall paper likes to fall off... no matter how many times he gets it done. This place really is a piece of shit. But it's his home. What's he going to do? So... he deals with it.
His office is in the living room, in front of the living room but right before the kitchen. There's plenty of alcohol around it, and he can wander around the house in a bathrobe all day because he's a shut-in writer with no friends and a family that doesn't give a damn about him. That's just fine. He actually prefers it that way. He doesn't have to think about them anymore. He doesn't have to deal with the fact that he has a past. He can just... write. Which is amazing really, because he hasn't thought of a decent idea his entire life and yet now he has these two fantastic characters named Sam and Dean who are just... so much better than he could ever be.
He's okay with that. Really. As long as he can write about them, live vicariously through them, then it's just fine. He'll deal with it. Love it even. Because he's Chuck Shurley, an alcoholic who can't be bothered to spend his money on anything other than electricity, water, rent, and wifi. Everything else can just sit on a back burner while he dies from poverty and lack of food. But alcohol can help with the empty stomach problems and he makes enough money to buy /some/ food. Just not much. He has to pay off those college loans so it's hard.
So when he laid his head down on his desk and stared up at his computer screen with a glare, mostly at the harsh brightness than the actual words. They suck too but... he can fix that. Computer brightness is something that he has been struggling with his entire life. He groaned lightly and stood up, ready to grab a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet. Aspirin, great idea. He popped five into his mouth and had a glass of bourbon to wash it down. Whatever alcohol he can get, he'll drink. Doesn't matter, although he really hates the taste of beer. That's something he won't touch. Not ever. Not really. Well... unless a friend of his brings some over.
Yes, Chuck has a friend. It's a very special friend too. In college he was just as much of a shut in as he has been his entire life, but one guy at his college refused to care. Didn't even seem to notice really. Lucifer Novak is a bastard and a whore but Chuck likes the dick anyway. He's always there and willing to bring over a pack of beer and fast food every once in a while which is always a perk. So Chuck handles him just fine... except for those douche-y days where Lucifer decides that Chuck needs some /fun/ in his life. Which usually means that he winds up inviting everyone he knows over to party at Chuck's house.
He's a dick.
But he's also the only friend that Chuck has. He's the only one who will pick Chuck up if he gets drunk off his ass at an actual bar at four in the morning. He's a good guy, a complete dick, but a good guy who cares /way/ too much for Chuck. It's almost like he's using their friendship because really... Lucifer gains nothing from this. Maybe he gets a place to bring his friends for a good time but he can go to any club for that or he can always convince Crowley, Ruby, or Meg to lend him their places. So it's weird, but it's not like Chuck is going to complain.
When the doorbell made loud hurtful noises to kill young innocent writers, Chuck groaned aloud and covered his ears, not even caring when the violence of how quickly he reached for his ears made him fall over in his chair. He hit the grown with a loud thud so it wasn't all that surprising when Lucifer broke into his house with beer and McDonalds. He took one look at Chuck sprawled out on the ground in his customary bathrobe, wife beater, boxers, and socks then laughed. He practically fell to the ground and /rolled/ he was laughing so hard. "Fuck you too, Lucy." Chuck spat and got up, wishing the meds would kick in soon. The sooner the better with Lucifer around. The douche won't care that Chuck's hungover and in pain. He'll scream the lyrics to 'Stairway to Heaven' over and over again just to watch Chuck writhe in pain.
"You're not offering so you shouldn't tease." Lucifer smirked then dumped the food on Chuck's keyboard making the writer make a noise of distress. He has a feeling Lucifer loves that noise... It wouldn't surprise him. The guy is definitely a sadist. Chuck knows this for a fact but he really can't bring himself to care. He'll stick around anyway. That's what best friends do, right? They don't ditch each other just because someone wants to torture a freshman girl just to make her cry. It's cruel, and he'll apologize later even though Lucifer was the one who did it. But still... actually, that's the only way Chuck ever got laid throughout college. He would comfort the girls Lucifer hurt and then... one thing out lead to another and Chuck would actually get some.
Lately, in order to get laid Chuck has to pay for it... which is not easy on his paycheck. Which means that for the most part he's a bit pissy, a bit annoyed, and forever willing to bow down at Lucifer's feet if only for some fries. He needs money so he'll probably have to get a job. A real job. But starving artist fits him so much better... or at least working by himself with no other humans around. That fits him pretty well too. Lucifer is lucky... he gets paid a decent amount just to criticize films. So all he does is watch movies and critique them in some way or another. Sometimes he gets published, other times he gets paid not to publish. He's taken Chuck with him a few times but it's a bit too intimidating. Lucifer lives his life being hated and doesn't give a fuck. Chuck lives his life in his house and is content. As long as there's alcohol.
"So... how the hell did you get beer and burgers from McDonalds at five in the morning?" Chuck asked, conveniently ignoring the pout his best friend is giving him. He always ignores the little flirts and teases, but that's mostly because Lucifer is a fucking whore. He's always been one and probably always will be. He fucks anyone he can so it's kind of funny when he gets dramatic and begs for Chuck to give his 'up the ass' virginity to him. It's kind of an ongoing joke. Chuck will always reject him and Lucifer will pout and whine for the rest of the day until Chuck can finally stop working on the same three pages in his book and then they'll go out. It doesn't really matter where. Sometimes they go for a drive, other times they walk to the park. It's just something they do.
"I have connection." Lucifer informed him easily, licking his lips as he pulled a double cheeseburger out of the bag. Chuck rolled his eyes, but he reached into the bag too. The first thing his fingers caught hold of was something plastic. He pulled it out then glared.
"My little pony..." He informed Lucifer dryly then tossed the pink rainbow shitting pony onto the ground and looked for his burger. A quarter pounder with cheese will always be the death of him. "So what did you have to give Crowley for him to make this happen?" He asked idly. Yeah, Lucifer is friends with a guy who can get anyone anything... but at a price. He's always nicer to Lucifer. Lucifer claims it's because Crowley's scared shitless of him, but Chuck's sure it's just because Crowley has a crush. It's normal. A lot of people have crushes on Lucifer. He's a cool guy.
"I gave him a blowjob, but because Crowley is a good man, he gave me beer too." Lucifer smiled, but it came across as sly. Yep, he's a whore. It's kind of ridiculous how much sexual favors mean nothing to him. It's like he's used to it. Chuck never bothered to ask about Lucifer's past. Why would he? It's something that they don't talk about so there must be a reason for it. It'd be better to leave that door firmly shut. Chuck was stuffing fries in his mouth when he noticed Lucifer fingering the pink my little pony. Luckily he has paper towels by the computer because soon he was hacking the fries up to keep himself from choking as he laughed his ass off.
"What the hell is /wrong/ with you?" Chuck demanded but couldn't help the laughter that kept coming. Lucifer seemed pleased enough, if by his condescending 'don't die' was any indication. "Fuck you... with a spoon and a fork..." Chuck choked out as his face turned red and he doubled over. It didn't take long for Lucifer to show up by his side and hit his back. Lucifer doesn't know a damn thing about helping choking people. He really doesn't. So this isn't really helping but Chuck would kind of need a little something called /air/ if he was going to tell Lucifer this.
When he could breathe again (/breathe/ being with several fry-filled coughs and dry sobs), Lucifer smirked widely and swirled his fingers over the back of Chuck's neck. "I would take the offer of the fuck if only because you always reject me... but as to what's wrong with me... I'd say my problems ended as soon as I met you." He said as if quoting a corny romance novel. This happens too sometimes... Lucifer will act serious and touch Chuck in some intimate way, it's not nice. It's not fair. But he can't do anything about it.
Instead he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Well your problems are probably emotional and mine are all physical so..." Chuck said, blowing it off like he always does. Lucifer knows some things about Chuck, like the fact that he had a fight with his parents before he left and how no one expected it to work. He knows that Sam and Dean are slowly killing Chuck but hey, the writer enjoys it so he might as well die happy. He always knows that Chuck has an ongoing fantasy with one of his fans named Becky. But when it comes to Lucifer... Chuck really doesn't know anything. He knows where the guy lives and the fact that he has siblings but that's about it. It's kind of pathetic actually.
Ah yes... care to share more about your... /problems/?" Lucifer asked softly, leaning in close. Chuck stared at him blankly then glowered when Lucifer stole three fries and shoved them into his mouth. Yes, his best friend is a fucking dick but he handles it. Somehow. Not without hesitation. "Oh... did you get another chapter written?" The change of topic was a bit abrupt but the look of stark terror on Chuck's face is kind of hard to hide. In a matter of seconds he was pulled up to his feet by his shirt as Lucifer glared at him. Oh yes, another way Lucifer is an endless amount of help. Writer's block is no excuse. Lucifer will force him to write anyway.
"As desperate as I am... S&M still isn't really my thing. I mean, for a hundred bucks I'll do anything but Lucifer this is a bit sudden..." Chuck informed him seriously and watched his best friend let him go as he doubled over in laughter. It's rare that Chuck will crack a joke like that but he does it occasionally. Whenever he does, Lucifer always gets a little weird afterwards but it's good that this time he's just amused. He sat back down and reached over to grab the large coke that Lucifer always gets. He only buys one so they tend to share. He took a long sip and winced. Definitely not alcohol.
"You're going to be the death of me... like the colt from your books." He gasped out then stole the drink from Chuck's hands. Now... that was just rude. Before he could fight for it, Lucifer tapped the laptop screen then waited patiently for Chuck to tell him exactly what's going to happen next. Lucifer loves spoilers, especially to hold them over the fans whenever Chuck does book signings or something. He's actually pretty obnoxious about it but his excitement sometimes brings new readers in and also has the dicks who just come to hate, shut up. He's good at controlling crowds, sometimes it's a bit scary, but Chuck doesn't like to think about that. Crowds in general are scary...
"I'm pretty sure the colt couldn't kill someone like you." Chuck said easily and began to scroll through the five pages he wrote the night before. Sometimes he gets on a roll and writes until his fingers are cramping and he's falling asleep at the computer, but most of the time he can only get a paragraph or a page done before he has to call it quits. Lucifer never allows this. He will hover over Chuck's shoulder and insult him till he /dies/ just to keep the writer writing. It's kind of annoying actually. But it helps which is something Chuck's editor adores.
"Oh Chuck! That's a plot hole... the fans would murder you for that." Lucifer smirked making Chuck roll his eyes but Lucifer didn't say anything after that. The grown man is practically bouncing in his seat to find out the gory details. It's kind of cute actually... like having a puppy, who brought beer and is now waving it in Chuck's face. He grabbed the bottle then reached for the coke. Obviously he thought that offering the beer would distract him from the coke but it didn't work. Lucifer pouted but Chuck just sipped the coke with a smirk on his face. Quite an accomplishment around a straw but Lucifer taught him how to do that years ago.
"Okay so... did I tell you about why they wanted Dean's soul so bad?" Chuck asked as he scrolled through the chapter. He came up with the idea recently but... he's never sure if he actually told anyone about it. Sometimes he'll start talking to Lucifer and the guy will just stare at him blankly until Chuck shuts up and realizes that Lucifer has no idea what the fuck he's talking about. Other times he'll just look at Chuck expectantly, waiting for something new. This time Lucifer grinned wickedly. So apparently Chuck hasn't spoiled this bit yet.
It took thirty minutes to explain but by the end of it Lucifer's grin was incredibly wide and looks a bit... demonic. Chuck was half tempted to get the holy water but... he's not Sam, Dean, or even Bobby. So yeah, he doesn't have any of that. Although Lucifer tried to convince him to pour bottled water into leather pouches and claim it's holy water. Then he can sell it at the book signings and make a bit more money. Chuck never considered it but when Lucifer came back to him a few days later claiming that the book store said 'No' he sulked for the entire day until Chuck finally offered to take the guy out for ice cream. He wound up spending too much money on it and couldn't eat for a couple days but Lucifer figured it out soon enough and they were eating together. Since then Lucifer doesn't sulk anymore, or at least, not in front of Chuck.
"You are a cruel man, Chuck Shurley." Lucifer claimed gravely and shook his head. Chuck didn't bother to point out that his form of cruelty could never compare to Lucifer's. Instead he just shrugged and opened his beer that he has been neglecting. Well... is it considered neglect if you never wanted it in the first place? Immediately his mind went to children in orphanages. He banged his head on his keyboard, ignoring the odd looks Lucifer gave him. "You were thinking terrible thoughts again weren't you? Were they about me? Was it kinky? Did you top or did I? Hey what kind of pro-" Chuck reached out his hand lazily in a half-assed attempt to slap Lucifer but it didn't work... at all.
He actually grabbed hold of Chuck's hand and cradled it delicately in his own, as if it was something precious. There is nothing precious about his hand. At all. "And this is where Misery actually began in Stephen King's novel, not on some stupid road." Chuck informed Lucifer in all seriousness. His best friend only smiled wolfishly and pulled him over, making his rolling chair squeak loudly in protest as Chuck leaned as far back as possible. It's not really all that possible though with the back of the chair hitting his own back. Lucifer hovered over him, breathing in and out as though he could spend the rest of his life just inches away from Chuck's face. "You're a freak, go away." Chuck grumbled.
"What if I said no..?" Lucifer murmured as he set his knees down on the leather chair. It's actually fake leather but right now... Chuck doesn't really give a damn because suddenly Lucifer is /very/ close to him. A little too close. A /lot/ too close. He blinked hard and pressed his lips together in a tight line, which is apparently the worst thing he could do because of course it caught Lucifer's attention and now his best friend is leaning towards him and he's getting close and... and Chuck doesn't know what the hell is going on so he did the first thing that came to mind. He kneed Lucifer in the groin.
Chuck was frozen in his chair with his thighs pressed to his chest as he hugged his knees tightly and buried his face in the darkness of his encompassed little hole of shame and regret. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so /fucking/ sorry. I didn't mean to! It was a reaction! I'm /so/ sorry Lucifer! I'm /so/ so sorry... I'm a terrible person... why the /fuck/ did I do that? I should go to hell. I need to go to hell. You did everything for me and I deserve hell..." Chuck chanted into his skin. He wasn't surprised when a hand ran through his hair, a comforting gesture he really doesn't fucking deserve right now.
"You're a little /bitch/ you know that?" Lucifer asked with a tired snicker. He shoved Chuck over, this seat really isn't made for two but Lucifer put his fat ass on there anyway and wrapped his arm around him. "It hurt like fucking hell but I was practically raping you. You did good. Shouldn't have help back." Lucifer whispered in Chuck's ear which didn't help the situation in the slightest.
It's hot... but that's to be expected with two people on almost-leather, practically crushing each other. He doesn't mind it so much. Lucifer has never been much of a fan of personal space when Chuck's around. "So next time you try to kiss me, keep your dick away from my knee." Chuck told him with a helpless smile. It was supposed to come off serious and funny but instead it was nervous and tired. Lucifer just laughed as if it's the funnies thing he's ever heard. It's very possible that Lucifer has lost his mind. Apparently his brain is in his dick and he has lost all of his marbles in one go.
When the burgers, fries, and coke disappeared into the bottomless pits of their stomachs, Lucifer led Chuck t bed. Apparently he could tell that the writer hadn't actually slept last night. Well... it's not exactly normal to be up at four in the morning... so it probably wasn't all that hard. But it's six now and they've been slow with talking, eating, and just slow with everything in general. Or maybe time flies. Maybe they talked the shit out of each other or just enjoyed the silence and the knowledge that he's right there. Chuck can see either way from his perspective but Lucifer... he's such a freak. He deserves better. But he won't go off and find a new best friend because Chuck's 'a little insecure.' Those are his words, naturally. But it kind of... makes Chuck happy. Just a little.