Please don't stand so close to me; I'm having trouble breathing.
I'm afraid of what you'll see right now.
I give you everything I am, all my broken heartbeats, until I know you'll understand.

- Christina Perri, "Distance"

"I didn't have the chance to tell you earlier, but I liked your costume." Lucifer finished wiping down the un-stained body of a viola-in-progress, and set it to the side. He gave Sam a smile.

Sam blushed. "Uh, thanks." He grinned. "You too. Your costume was a lot more uh... dashing... than mine." He snorted and stretched out his legs, working on tightening the strings of a new cello. (Late November, and Lucifer had hired him on as a part-timer, and Sam was so grateful because it allowed him to occasionally buy a few books, or a new pair of shoes.)

Lucifer chuckled—the low laugh that made Sam's stomach turn. "Nonsense," he murmured. "Skywalker is just as dashing as the Devil in a suit." His expression morphed to something dark and teasing. Sam averted his eyes, and cleared his throat. Lucifer snorted, stepping around the edge of the counter and heading through the back room—probably to go up to his apartment above the store and grab something he'd forgotten, or fix lunch. Sam returned his attention to restringing the cello with much more concentration.

He got so absorbed in his task he didn't even notice Lucifer's return. Not until Lucifer crowded into his personal space and waved a plate under his nose—the smell of warm peaches and cinnamon jolted Sam back into the real world and he stared a little cross-eyed at the mound of peach cobbler in front of him. He blinked rapidly, and smiled. "For me?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "No, for the cat. Yes, it's for you, you big oaf." Lucifer snagged the neck of the cello and tugged it from Sam's grasp, setting the plate on his lap. "If you don't eat it, I'll be offended." He lugged the cello off to a stand, and settled it in, before retrieving his own plate from where he'd set it on a shelf, and sat down near Sam to eat. Sam thanked him, and followed suit.

"Ohmygod." Sam all but moaned around the cobbler. "This is amazing. Did you make this?"

Lucifer frowned at him. "Don't talk with your mouth full." He took a vicious bite before continuing. "Yeah, it's Gabe's recipe but I made it—last night." He smirked. "Glad you seem to be enjoying it."

Sam made sure to swallow before opening his mouth this time, and thumped his chest with one fist. "Now I know how Dean feels when he sees a cherry pie. Seriously, it's really good, and I don't even like sweet stuff that much."

"Gabe would be horrified to hear that. Sweets are a religion for him. But I'll let him know you like the recipe." Lucifer winked, and licked his fork.

Later, Sam was going through the shop, turning out lights and putting away stray bottles of polish, when Gabriel burst in through the front door with a violent jingle.

"NICHOLAS!" Gabriel's voice cracked, and Sam noted his shirtlessness despite the chill late autumn air. He wondered briefly who Nicholas was, then remembered—Lucifer's first name. Gabriel stood with his bare chest heaving in the center of the store, eyes wide and pupils blown 'til the gold of his iris could barely be seen. Lucifer's steps echoed loudly from the back room, and he ran in, tense.

"Gabriel." Lucifer held his hands up, placating, walking a slow circle toward his younger brother. He flicked his hand at Sam, and Sam locked the door with a loud thunk. Gabriel flinched, but kept his eyes on Lucifer, slowly regaining a more steady breathing pattern. Lucifer stepped toward him, and reached out. Gabriel swayed, closed his eyes briefly before opening them wide again, and let Lucifer lead him to a chair. Sam noted the tattoo on his back—six wings that formed a shape almost like a flower, but for the fact that the center wings stretched from his spine and wrapped clear to his elbows. He hovered by the door and watched the brothers sink down together—one into a low backed stool, the other to his haunches beside the seat.

Finally, Gabriel seemed to relax somewhat. "I can't do it, Nick." And Sam supposed that "Nick," while not as relaxed as "Luci," was better than "Nicholas." Gabe tilted forward, and slid off the chair into his brother's arms. "I can't take this job they want me to take—They want me to be responsible and you know I can't handle that and responsibility is too much and Kali told them no but they won't fucking listen." The last word trailed into a whine, and he dragged in a shuddering breath. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Sorry I'm so screwed up."

Lucifer patted Gabriel's back with a soft shushing noise, rocking his little brother in his arms just enough to be barely noticeable. "You're just stressed, Angelface." He settled himself more comfortably on the ground, and pulled Gabriel's face to press against his neck before mouthing at Sam, Candy, and gesturing toward the ceiling. Sam left the room to gentle mutters.

He wondered what exactly terrified Gabriel so much—what kind of responsibility would lead him to apparently run shirtless through town. He shrugged to himself, and slipped into Lucifer's apartment. The first he'd seen of it. Very clean, very conservative, and very white. He made his way to the kitchen, more spacious than his own but just barely, and searched the cupboards until he found a bag of fun-sized candy bars. He grabbed a handful of Twix and Snickers, and left as quickly as he'd come.

The sound of music floated up the stairwell. Sam paused briefly, before shaking his head and stepping quietly into the back room of the shop—the room where the instruments hung on display, with a few chairs and music stands. The practice room. Lucifer had moved Gabriel from the front to that room, situated him in a soft chair with a sleek cello between his knees, and Gabriel pulled notes from it like his life depended on it. He played from sheet music, which surprised Sam. What struck Sam more, though, was the way Gabriel's face contorted with each slide of the bow and press of his fingers—he looked like a man in mourning, like the sad song was more than just music and he was living the story it told. And maybe he was.

His left hand fluttered like a dying butterfly and the vibrato he coaxed from the strings sounded more delicate than any professional player Sam had ever heard.

Lucifer leaned close to Sam, and whispered, "As much as he normally hates reading from sheets, it helps him concentrate and calm down when he panics." He palmed the candy bars from Sam's hand, and Sam shook himself.

"Is he gonna be okay?" He crossed his arms.

Lucifer nodded. "He'll be alright." He chucked a Twix at Gabe, and Gabriel twitched when it hit his bare feet (and Sam hadn't noticed his lack of shoes before) but he only toed it away and kept playing "The Swan" like it was the only thing keeping him breathing. Lucifer shook his head and pulled Sam out of the room, leaving the candy on one of the chairs.

Sam met Lucifer's eyes, somewhat worried, still. "What's wrong—What's he afraid of?" He hunched his shoulders forward.

Lucifer sighed, and ran a hand through his short hair. "The company he works for most often wants an exclusive contract—and that wouldn't be so terrible but..." He leaned against the counter. "But, they also want him to supervise the making of a soundtrack for a fairly high profile film, and compose a large majority of the pieces." Lucifer closed his eyes.

"And he can't do it." Sam ventured. Lucifer nodded.

"Too much all at once. He prefers to work on one or two pieces, max, and usually short things for commercials and the like." Lucifer opened his eyes and smirked. "He's got a short attention span."

Sam let himself laugh quietly. From the other room, the music changed to a cello cover of "Eleanor Rigby," and Sam smiled. He took it as a good sign when Lucifer grinned as well. They peeked into the room, and saw Gabriel with a smear of his chocolate on his nose and his eyes closed with a small smile, leaning into every bowstroke.

Sam admired the way his inked wings shifted in the soft light with every movement, and the way Gabriel wielded the instrument like an extra body part.

Lucifer watched him watch Gabriel, and frowned—but it wasn't an unhappy frown, it was a thoughtful frown. Sam turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow, but Lucifer shook his head and smiled.

"Stop makin' eyes at each other and play with me!"

Sam jumped, and grinned at Gabriel. Lucifer laughed.

Gabriel beamed at them.