Some nights, he was okay, content even, but not this one.
Lucifer sat quietly on the couch as Natalie slept. The way she was lying there, hair splayed across her pillow like a slip of orange silk, reminded him somehow of a renaissance painting. She looked so peaceful, so sweet.
Beautiful. He thought the words he'd never dare say. You're so damn beautiful, Natalie.
That was it: she was too beautiful for him, too fragile, too sweet, too fucking perfect.
He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The tips of his fingers brushed his horns: it was a reminder. Anguish tore through him like a rusty knife. He heard more than felt himself exhale, a low whistling sound.
He loved her. Desperately - painfully - he loved her, and now he had to face the truth: the only one he ever wanted was the only one he would never let himself have. To love her would be to corrupt her, to extinguish the only light left in his life. Lucifer felt as if someone had plunged a hand through his chest and was twisting at the heart within. He thought he could hear his ribs crack and shatter one by one.
Natalie stirred. Lucifer watched as she clutched her chest in her sleep, tears streaming silver down her cheeks. She was feeling this. He was hurting her.
Lucifer closed his eyes, pushing away the thoughts in his mind, the aching in his chest. He clenched and unclenched his fists, focusing on the movement to clear his thoughts. He picked up a book, hoping that it would be enough to distract himself.
And it worked, but only for a while.
Barely ten minutes had passed when he had to put it down. It was a copy of Shakespeare's The Tempest, and the character Miranda reminded him far too much of Natalie - they were both so sweet and innocent, and frustratingly righteous. He finally gave up on reading when he began to imagine Natalie and himself as Miranda and her love interest, Ferdinand, in his mind.
O you, so perfect and so peerless, are created of every creature's best.
The words could have been written for her. Lucifer exhaled slowly, leaning back and resting his head against the wall.
This was what his nights were like more and more often lately.
It had been easy in the beginning - he could hide his feelings flawlessly, even from himself - but the events in Oregon had opened his eyes. The thought that he could have lost her, to the monster within him no less, felt as if it could almost kill him.
Natalie moaned in her sleep, breaking his train of thought. He'd slipped again. The spark of guilt he felt at putting her through his pain only made it worse. She was crying again.
Before Lucifer could stop himself, he was on his knees beside her bed. Very gently, biting his lip to stop a prayer to his father that she wouldn't wake up, he wiped at her tears with his thumbs. "I'm sorry, Kid." He whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Guilt was an emotion Lucifer was still not used to: it had been a long time since he'd felt it before Natalie had summoned him. Now it was a recurring, if not familiar, feeling.
He wanted to leave for the night - to drink, fight, cause havoc - anything to stop him thinking about how soft her skin was against his fingertips.
But she'd ordered him not to, and ever since Natalie had been released from hospital the second time he'd been reluctant to leave her, even for a moment.
Tears had ceased flowing from Natalie's eyes, but Lucifer's fingers remained. He caressed the soft skin just over her cheekbones.
"I, beyond all limit of what else i'th' world, do love, prize, honour you." Ferdinand had said it to Miranda, and now he whispered it to Natalie as she slept unaware. Lucifer leaned back, rearranging himself so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He'd said it, told her how he felt even if she wasn't awake to listen.
But it would never do: he needed it in his own words, not the borrowed ones of a long dead playwright.
Lucifer took a deep breath. "This is ridiculous." He said. "This is truly fucking ridiculous, Kid, but I have something to say." He watched her warily, trying to make sure that she wasn't awake. "I... don't hate you?" He ventured.
I am really not good at this.
"I'm-" He swallowed. "I'm sorry I said you were as sexy as a sack of potatoes. I lied."
The tightness in his chest eased a little. You're getting there, Satan, but it's not enough.
Lucifer stared down at his hands in his lap. Looking away from her helped a little, and his words came out easier than before. "Girl," his voice was husky. "I have been awful to you, even I can see that. I- I just hope you know that it's not because I hate you, Kid." Lucifer's claws scratched at her sheets where they hung over the edge of the bed. He watched the fabric be slowly torn to shreds. "I don't hate you."
Lucifer noticed that the sky outside was beginning to lighten: if he was going to say this, he needed to hurry. "Natalie," The familiar thrill when he said her name, the reason he almost never did, coursed through him. "Natalie, I haven't have much experience with love-" He said the word carefully, as if testing it as it rolled off his tongue. "But I think - no, I fucking know - that I love you." Lucifer was still staring at his hands. "And I know that I will never tell any of this to your face, because I've never met anyone, human or other, who was so much better than me. I don't want to ruin that."
Lucifer closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against the edge of the bed. For a moment, there was relief, pure relief.
But it quickly passed; now he just felt empty.
Lucifer didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he felt her fingers in his hair. He went rigid.
"Did you mean that?" Natalie asked. Her voice was small. "Did you mean it, or are you just messing with me again?"
Lucifer knew what he should do. The best course of action would be to pretend this was a ploy, a trick to screw with her head, but there was something in her voice that made it hard for him to speak. Natalie's fingers snaked down to the line of his jaw. Lucifer let her slowly tilt his head back to meet her gaze. Her green eyes stared intensely into his; there was a vulnerability in them that made his chest ache.
He could not lie to her.
"Satan?" Natalie whispered. There was an edge to her voice that cut him.
"Lucifer." He breathed. "Call me Lucifer."
"Lucifer." She said it with a smile and a softness that broke his heart. "Did you lie?" Natalie was leaning forward- unintentionally, he thought. This girl has no idea the effect she has.
"Did you lie?" She said again.
Lucifer took a deep, unnecessary breath. Say yes, say yes, say yes, SAY YES! "No." The word sounded like promise. Maybe it was.
The shock of Natalie's lips on his melted in a moment.
And then he was kissing her, long and deep and hungry. So unbearably hungry, as if he wanted to taste - to feel - every part of her.
Natalie was pressed against him, soft yielding flesh against his own hard body: they fit together perfectly, like two mismatched puzzle pieces that - by some miracle - connected seamlessly. He could no longer tell where he ended and she began; Lucifer wanted desperately for it to stay that way.
"Lucifer," She whispered it into his mouth as she slid from the bed. "I want you to say it, Lucifer. Tell me you love me, just once. Say it to my face like you want me to hear it."
He leaned back to look into her eyes. They were wild, glowing bright in the near darkness.
"I love you, Natalie." He said her name carefully. I shiver ran up her body that made him smile. It'd been a long time since he'd truly smiled. "I love you." Lucifer kissed her forehead. "I love you." His lips touched her nose. "I love you." Their lips brushed.
"And I love you." There they were: the words that he'd never thought he'd hear. She loved him. She loves me. Me. He didn't realize he'd frozen.
"Lucifer, are you alri-"
Her words disappeared into his lips and she giggled in delight.
"I am so much more than alright." He said, voice imbued with emotion.
And they descended, or rather fell, into each other's embrace as the first rays of dawn's light flowed through the window.
Natalie slept well into the day. Lucifer didn't mind, he just held her against his chest and marvelled at the feel of her skin.
He didn't know what he'd expected.
Maybe he thought his Father would strike him down for finally doing the unforgivable, for corrupting something so beautiful and good.
Whatever it was, he didn't expect this.
Natalie almost glowed in the sunlight, her hair shining like yellow gold in the light, but she was the same. Still Natalie. Still perfect in every way.
Did he truly think he would corrupt her? He should have known better.
If he was the moon, Natalie was the sun: she burned so much brighter, so much more beautifully, than he. And, like the moon, he would be completely dark without her.
She could never be Lucifer could do was hope that she'd save a little sunshine for him.
Sir, she is mortal; but by immortal providence, she's mine