Echo
By GhostOfRattmann
Chapter 8: Most People Think I Burn Hot
"Lucifer?" Dean exclaimed, stumbling to his feet in shock and looking down at his younger brother in something better horror and worry. He ran a shaky hand through him hair, teeth clenched. "But Cas... No, look, okay, it'll be alright, Sam." He stepped closer to his brother, obviously trying to compose himself. "We'll find you some more help... Somehow. I-"
"Dean," Sam cut in firmly, shaking his head. "It's okay. I keep telling you, it's okay."
Utterly perplexed at his brother's calm attitude, Dean turned to him incredulously. "Sam, you're seeing the devil again, how the hell is that okay?"
Sam sighed. "Dean, please, just sit down and listen."
For a few moments, Dean seemed unwilling, but eventually he took a step back, sinking back down onto the chair. "Sam, why the hell are you so calm about this?"
Sam gave a slow shrug. "Because there's nothing to worry about. I'm okay. Really."
"Sam, you're hallucinating."
"But I'm not," Sam replied. "That's just it, Dean. This is a perfectly real situation, and I've got control over it."
"How the hell do you mean you've 'got control'?"
"Just like when I took back control of my body," Sam explained. "Sure, it took a while, but now, I'm the one holding the reins."
Dean looked utterly baffled, staring at his brother with a look that clearly showed he thought this was madness. "So you're trying to tell me you've got the devil on a leash?"
Sam pulled an uncomfortable face at Dean's choice of words. "In a sense, but not quite so degrading. Just... Call it a compromise. We've got a deal."
"A deal with the devil?"
"An agreement," Sam insisted firmly.
"And what 'agreement' is that?"
"Simple," Sam replied. "He behaves, he gets to stay with me. You know, out of the cage."
"Well your little deal seems to have been broken, Sammy. He sent me flying down the stairs."
Sam sighed, glancing at Lucifer out of the corner of his eyes, pleased to see he was at least making an attempt to look appropriately abashed. "That was a stupid mistake. He knows and I punished him for it."
"You punished the devil?" Dean seemed to be genuinely considering pinching himself to ensure this wasn't a dream.
"I sent him back to the cage for the night. He promised he won't do anything like that again."
"And you believe him?"
Sam swallowed, hardening his resolve and making a point of meeting his brother's gaze full-on. "Yes," he said. "I do."
For a few moments, Dean just stared at him, before turning away with a sigh and shaking his head. "Man, Sammy, what am I gonna do with you? You... You've full on lost it."
"No, I haven't, Dean," Sam replied, slightly put out at his brother's words. "I told you. I'm fine. I'm okay." He frowned as Dean seemed to be refusing to look at him. "Dean, I need you to trust me here."
"And how the hell am I supposed to do that, Sammy?" Dean dragged his gaze back up to Sam's face. "You're telling me you're running with the devil here."
"Not like that," Sam said. "I told you, there's nothing going on, or risky. He's just... Here. With me."
Dean frowned. "What, you mean, right now?"
Sam glanced to his side again. "Yes."
Dean's expression only darkened, his eyes darting around the room as if Lucifer would suddenly become visible to him. "Where?"
"Right here," Sam nodded to his left.
Dean stared at the spot incredulously, while Lucifer raised an eyebrow back at him. The older of the Winchester brother's slowly turned to look at Sam once more. "And what is he doing right now?"
Sam shrugged. "Sitting there, Dean, that's all." He felt a tickle against the back of his neck and smiled. "Actually there's a wing over my shoulders. You should see them, Dean, they're amazing."
Dean looked less than impressed.
"Please," Sam continued. "You have to trust me, Dean. Come on, think about it, in the past few weeks have I done anything... Anything at all that's been really dangerous or concerning?"
"You mean apart from talking to Satan?"
"You know what I mean. It's not like I'm drinking demon blood again, or taking any crazy risks. I'm fine. Everything's normal, just... Lucifer's here, too."
"That doesn't fit my definition of normal, Sam." Dean stood up, his expression stern. "I don't know what to do, Sammy. You're not giving me many options here."
"I'm asking you to trust me, Dean," Sam said. "Trust me as your brother. Come on, I've cooperated, haven't I? I've let you lock me down here."
Dean took a step towards the door, looking distinctly as if he were backing away from a savage animal. "Yeah, well maybe that's best for now." And with that, he turned away, stepping out of the room and locking the door firmly behind him.
Sam sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. The wing shifted around his shoulders, curling inwards as if to embrace him and Sam managed the smallest smile.
"He could have left us a TV at least," Sam said, lying back on the bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Lucifer raised his head from where he lay next to him, rolling his eyes. "You humans and your constant need for entertainment. Is there anything you don't rely on technology for?"
Sam ignored the jibe and shrugged.
A few minutes of silence passed by agonisingly slowly, before Sam slowly turned his head to look toward Lucifer. "Sing for me," he said.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
"Come on, I want to hear the Angel of Music doing his job. Sing something for me." He paused, before smiling. "Not 'Stairway to Heaven'."
Lucifer looked distinctly amused. "So you admit you like my singing after all?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "It's better than this damn silence, at least. Sing."
Lucifer merely smirked, sitting up and looking down at Sam in amusement. He was silent, apparently denying the request, until just as Sam looked away, the first words of 'Sympathy For The Devil' filled the silence of the room.
Sam let out a small laugh at the irony, but lay there and listened contently, reaching up and gently running his hand along the inside of Lucifer's left wing. The feathers were soft and ticklish against his fingertips, as Lucifer smooth voice drowned out the silence. He really was a good singer, hitting each note and beat exactly, never once faltering as each syllable merged steadily into the next in a perfect ballad, despite the lack of background music.
Ignoring the whole mess of a situation, ignoring the slight chill of the room and the uncomfortable mattress on the bed, Sam merely lay there and listened.
He knew Dean was both angry and confused. He knew this situation was far from ideal. Heck, he knew it was downright crazy. But somehow, he found himself coping with it. More than coping, he... He was happy.
"...as every cop's a criminal, and all the sinners saints..."
Sam moved his hand up, along Lucifer's shoulder, to the back of his neck.
"...as heads it tails, just call me Lucifer..."
He leant up, or pulled Lucifer down, or possibly a combination of both.
"...cause I'm in need of some restraint."
He wasn't sure exactly why he was kissing him, but even as the realisation fully hit, he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Besides, Lucifer didn't seem to mind. He didn't know why all that romantic poetry and literature he'd studied at school lovingly described warm lips during a kiss, because right now the pleasant iciness of Lucifer's mouth was enough to send a tingle down his spine. Or perhaps, a shiver would be a more appropriate description.
When he eventually pulled back, he collapsed right back onto the mattress in an embarrassingly flustered state, Lucifer half on top of him, his wings stretched out above them with a soft glow that Sam liked to think was an indication of pleasure.
"Well, Dean won't be happy about that, Sammy."
Sam sighed, placing his hand on the side of Lucifer's face with an intimacy that suddenly felt so very natural. "Dean doesn't have to know everything," he said softly.
"So your brother's hanging with Satan?"
"Pretty much," Dean said, gritting his teeth in frustration, only half paying attention to Garth, most of his attention on glaring at random objects.
"But he said it's under control, didn't he?"
"Seeing the devil is not a sign of control, Garth," Dean snapped, spinning round to face him. "It's the devil. Nothing about this is good."
"But Sam seems happy," Garth pointed out. "It's not like he's, you know, crying in a corner of going around killing or anything. He's acting perfectly fine."
"He can be perfectly fine without the devil hanging onto him."
Garth shrugged vaguely. "But does Lucifer even have any power left? I know you said he tried to throw you down the stairs-"
"He didn't try, he did."
"-but if that's the most he can do it's hardly the biggest threat, is it? These Leviathans seemed a little more scary right now."
Dean sighed, folding his arms. "At least the Leviathans aren't screwing around inside my brother's head. Who knows what poison the devil's dripping in his ear."
"Has Lucifer even tried to make Sam do anything, though? Sam's been totally on game in my opinion."
Dean shook his head stubbornly. "Come on, man, it's the devil, he's got to be up to something. He's here for a reason."
"Same gave you a reason, you told me."
Dean frowned. "What all that staying out of the cage crap? That's weak, Garth."
"Not really," the other replied. "Think about it, Dean. You've been to hell. Would you want to be there if you could help it? Even if it meant swallowing your pride and having to get along with someone you don't particularly want to."
"I-" Dean broke off, abruptly falling into thought as he took in what Garth had said. "But... But he's the devil, hells no problem for him."
"Are you sure about that? He's locked in a cage down there, man. Even if they all think he's the big man down there, doesn't mean it's a good time. Even if you're the best man in the place, if that place is a crazy, smoking torture dungeon, doesn't make it any more fun."
Dean frowned, but there was a hint of comprehension to his expression. "Don't go sympathizing with the devil, Garth. He's down there for a reason, remember. He's bad news. Crazy, reckless."
"So was Cas, but you still defend him."
Dean fell silent. Eventually he shook his head. "Cas isn't the devil." Despite his words, his voice held significantly less power than before.
"And you're brother ain't stupid. Until something bad happens to say otherwise, we're gonna have to trust him."
"Oh, I trust Sam," Dean said. "It's the freaking devil I'm worried about."
Sam Winchester had always been curious. It had helped him, at times, like when Dean or their father or angels or whoever would insist things had to go down one way, Sam would pointedly try them another way. If someone told him to leave something well alone, Sam was like to go and take a peek. So when he'd been burning with curiosity as to what making out with a forked tongue was like, it hadn't been long before he set about finding out.
And it was distinctly pleasant, he'd discovered, flushed and bleary-eyed as he lay side-by-side with Lucifer, their legs entangled, mouths slowly working against each other's.
He vaguely imagined going back in time and telling his old self this, that one day he'd be making out with the devil, and he almost laughed at the idea. Just-out-of-college-and-still-mourning-Jess-Sam would have been horrified, demon-fighting-Sam likely disgusted. But back then the devil had just been a myth. Apocalypse-fighting-Sam would have been... Embarrassed. Because he'd known then really, hadn't he? Much to his shame. That no matter how much hate or anger he felt, there was always that fascination, that each time he'd looked at Lucifer there had been... Something, something that made it hard to pull away. But common sense, righteousness, whatever, had pulled him away and at the time that had been right. But this was right now.
He ran the tip of his tongue in between the two forked ends of Lucifer's, biting back a moan as Lucifer pulled away teasingly, though quickly leaning into to kiss him again. The devil's soft laugh faded into his mouth, making Sam smile in between kisses.
"Don't think I'm giving you control of everything, Sammy," Lucifer said softly.
Sam beamed, eyes shining as they pulled back from one another briefly. "I'm always up for a challenge," he replied.
Lucifer merely raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile lingering on his features that Sam now knew too well to be wary of. "A fiddle of gold against your soul says I'm better than you."
A/N:
Yay for using cliche songs for cliche moments. Anyway, despite the fluff I hope this is staying mostly in character. And look, we're finally getting somewhere! The Samifer ship has sailed!
Thanks for reading :)
