"So you're going to hold monthly audiences with me?" Apparently cleaning the bloody piano in his nightclub wasn't as easy as it had sounded at first. And, mind it, Lucifer was trying to perform the best he could. He even had done some research beforehand, so now he was gripping a damp cloth, rubbing the outside of the piano in circular motions and working in small sections. One, two, three… Maze scoffed and rolled her eyes before slapping the cloth out of Lucifer's hand.
"Straight strokes, dumbass. In the direction of the wood grain. Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll end up with swirl marks and streaks," Mazikeen explained curtly, already looking done with Lucifer. His first time cleaning the piano, and he couldn't do it right. How was she supposed to leave him on Earth, all alone and on his own? How would he take care of himself? "And yeah. I'll be holding monthly audiences to discuss demonic matters with you. By the way, you know I'll want you to kneel when greeting me?" She added with a sharp grin just when Lucifer bent down to pick up the cloth.
So maybe she'd heard the rumors about how really Crowley's firing process looked like.
"Don't push it, Maze. I think I've had enough of kneeling for several lifetimes by now."
Mazikeen leaned against the piano, swirling alcohol in her glass, not bothered by Lucifer's remark in the slightest. With him, if you were on his nice list, then it was always all bark and no bite.
"Interesting. You're saying you want Beelzebub to continue ruling in your name, then? Fine by me."
Lucifer felt seriously tempted to just throw that cloth at her. But, well, his Maze was driving a hard bargain: he couldn't have Beelzebub ruling Hell, and Maze was more suited for it than any of them: demons and Lucifer included both. She knew what Hell should be like, she tolerated humans, and she would keep all demons in check.
"Goodness, Maze, I'm already your Uber ride! Isn't that enough?" Lucifer protested just for the sake of it, already knowing he was going to lose. "No me, no wings to fly to Linda and her Urchin anytime you want."
"Any time I want, and every six months, regular as clockwork, because I'm not working in Hell all year round." Maze reminded him lightly after taking a long sip of her vodka. Her grin only widened when Lucifer returned to his cleaning 'duties'. It was actually pretty amusing to watch him work physically, and just because Crowley had pointed out that someone should finally get that oily finger residue from the piano. "Just six months here, six months there, and—"
"And you've been reading too much of that Persephone myth."
"What? Greeks know their stuff," she gave him a wicked smile. "It's still happening."
Before Lucifer could protest some more, both of them heard someone knocking on the wall to announce their presence. When the Devil looked up and recognized the person, he subtly – not so subtly – inched behind the piano. Yes, the flaming sword was pretty much useless now, but that didn't mean Lucifer couldn't take precautions.
"Hello, Aziraphale," he said cheerfully when it was all set and safe with the piano between him and the angel. Nothing out of the ordinary. "Hello, hi. Another person that wants me to kneel when greeting them, or is it okay for me to stand?"
Maze snorted into her drink.
"How old are you again? Twelve?"
"Eleven, thank you," Lucifer shot right back before turning his attention back to the perplexed angel. "While I am greatly honored by your visit, Principality, why are you here? And where's Crowley?"
"I, uh, Crowley isn't coming. He's getting drinks with your lovely detective and Amenadiel," Aziraphale cleared his throat. This… wasn't a comfortable situation, but then, Crowley had told him to, and Aziraphale was quoting here, "go, for Hell's sake, and mend those fences, Angel. You'll feel better, believe me. By the way, have you heard that LOL apparently stands for Lucifer Our Lord according to some Christian groups? Best thing ever." Well, Aziraphale wasn't feeling better. He was feeling pretty terrible, and he didn't like that. He didn't like that at all, but it had to be done, especially after Lucifer… had taken that risk for them all, and stayed more or less normal. But before he could find the right words to express his regret properly…
"I beg your pardon, drinks? And I wasn't invited?!" Lucifer stared at him, indignant and feeling pretty insulted. "Why?"
"Well, it would be a fair assumption that… our wily old serpent… wanted us to talk."
No matter how amusing it was to see Lucifer scoff, seconds away from voicing his objection aloud, Mazikeen decided that she didn't want to be a part of any touchy-feely conversation. No way Jose.
"You need tissues, they're behind the bar." She grabbed her black leather jacket from the nearest barstool and put it on. "Try not to end up braiding each other's hair. I'll be with Chloe and the rest of their little group having actual fun. See ya."
"Very funny, Maze. Maze?" Lucifer blinked when Mazikeen really just walked out of the nightclub, not even giving him a second glance. He could swear that he heard her cackling, though. "Maze, bloody hell, get back here!"
Aziraphale coughed to catch Lucifer's attention again, making the Devil look back at him, wary and distrustful.
"Dear boy, I think we should use this opportunity to have this talk I've been meaning to—"
"No. I mean, you're forgiven for all the stabbing and impaling action, no need to dwell on it any further." Lucifer shrugged. Talking about it was the last thing he wanted. Because, if he were to assess his own mental state right now, it would be… fairly good. And so he preferred it to stay that way. "I'm serious, brother de… in-law," Lucifer tried not to grin too obviously at the wordplay, even though the Principality put his hands together, already looking disapproving of the joke. "Right, tough crowd… Anyway! Dad-level powers or not, I'm not planning on snapping again."
"Well, that's certainly good news." Aziraphale nodded, yet – to Lucifer's profound disappointment – didn't make a move to leave. Fine, fine, maybe it wasn't entirely fair of Lucifer, but then, he still remembered how exactly the Principality had been treating him. One second it was "dear boy", and another – "Satan is working to bring the Armageddon as well, we need to stop him!"
Bloody hell, someone could get a whiplash from all of that.
"Yes, yes. So you can go now, can't you? Off you pop."
"I still want to apologize, dear." Aziraphale took a deep breath, feeling nervous about this whole conversation. Surprisingly enough, the fact that Lucifer's powers were definitely on another level now, just like he had announced two seconds earlier, really didn't matter to the angel. Crowley had explained everything to him – how Lucifer had handled the situation in Heaven and how opposed he'd been – and still was – to actually ruling. It… boded well for the future, didn't it? "Because you deserve that. I haven't given you the benefit of the doubt, although you have to understand – Crowley didn't have the best memories of you, and you do rule Hell. There's also that thing with your Rebellion in Heaven."
Oh, the Rebellion, sure, sure. Not like anyone could ever forget about the Rebellion, even though thousands and thousands of years had passed since then. Lucifer exhaled, feeling both the beginning of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and the beginning of a headache.
"You suck at apologies. You know that, right?"
"Never had to give one before," Aziraphale explained, wringing his hands. "I'm an angel. Crowley once said he didn't think I could do the wrong thing. I used to think so, too. But then I stabbed you, and I thought you… maybe the tiniest bit… evil… and I'm so, so deeply sorry for that. You're a surprisingly good person."
Lucifer thought back to the session with Linda he'd had two days ago. And okay, okay, he knew he should have gone to her earlier, but it wasn't like he had a lot of free time now! Especially since he'd been forced to go to Heaven and actually talk with Gabriel about all the technicalities regarding both the archangel ruling the Silver City and yet still somewhat answering to Lucifer. And, truly, Lucifer wanted nothing to do with that, except maybe to make sure that there was no new apocalypse slash civil war slash terrible breakfast for Gabriel's monthly meetings - in the making.
And to maintain the status quo. Because while, yes, he might have dear old Dad's powers, he certainly didn't have His desire to be worshiped, nor to be obeyed, nor His omniscience. Which was perfect for him, because Lucifer was fairly sure he'd go crazy pretty quickly if he really had to listen to humans praying to his Father of all beings.
Anyway!
Linda had told him that he needed to start letting go of the past if he wanted to start anew. That he had to take his fate into his own hands. And it was already reflected in his wings – they were his now, not Amara's. Every time he'd forgiven himself a bit, every time he'd made his own decision, every time he'd made the right choice, they had self-actualized, feather after feather, similarly to Crowley's who had white tips now simply because he didn't consider himself all that unforgivable anymore.
So, while it was tempting to hold the grudge for just a little bit longer, Lucifer knew what he had to say.
"Apology accepted, and let's never go back—"
"Oh, wonderful!" Aziraphale interrupted Lucifer with the biggest smile ever, just as he reached for the Devil's hands. "And right on time. I still need to get a wiggle on, because we have to pack. Would you imagine? Crowley actually wants to take a plane back to London! It's going to be a jolly adventure!"
What?... Lucifer felt as if Aziraphale just pulled the rug out from underneath him, but before he could react in any way, the angel was already gone, leaving him to glance around the room with a lost look in his eyes.
"Back— to London?"
XXX
The nightclub was pretty crowded that night. The spotlight was on the owner himself, of course, who was sitting at the piano, surrounded by people completely entranced with him. Crowley had insisted on coming here to say goodbye before leaving to England with Aziraphale, but, apparently, they had chosen the worst possible moment to come to Lux.
"…we can fight a war for peace, ooh woo, I'm a rebel just for kicks, now! Give in to that easy living, say goodbye to my hopes and dreams, stop flipping for my enemies, but no…" Lucifer leaned closer to the microphone and gave the people gathered around him the brightest grin, "…Ooh woo, I'm a rebel just for kicks, now, let me kick it like it's back in Heaven, oh, wow, might be over now, but I feel it still! Can't keep my wings to myself, think I'll dust 'em off, put 'em back up on the shelf!…"
…well. Those certainly weren't the right lyrics. Crowley raised his hand up for Lucifer to notice him in the crowd. Didn't really work.
"What is that?" Aziraphale leaned closer to Crowley so the demon could hear him over the song, and because yelling would have been terribly rude. Wouldn't it? Lucifer was performing spectacularly. It was actually a nice throwback to the times before the Rebellion, to when Lucifer had been in charge of music in Heaven.
"It's Portugal. The Man," said Crowley. Seriously, was he so unnoticeable? The first night here he had been just standing at the bar, and Lucifer had somehow spotted him right away. But now? No, sir. How convenient. "Although Lucifer certainly has made a lot of his own twists and tweaks."
"Don't we have a word for men from Portugal, though? Portuguese men?" Aziraphale frowned at first, not following. Connecting the dots really didn't take him much time, though, and his whole face lit up the moment he did that. "Oh, you mean be-bop!"
"Why do you keep using the term be-bop to describe the modern music, Angel, is still beyond me." Crowley heaved a sigh, but couldn't exactly help a fond smile either. Ah, the joys of being in a long relationship with someone that was both his best friend and more.
A random person bumped into Crowley, almost spilling her drink and pulling him out of his thoughts because of it. He hissed at her, annoyed, then snapped his fingers, making the drink spill for real this time, and on some poor bastard's shirt. And that… gave him an idea how to successfully get Lucifer's attention. "Angel? You want to listen to Mozart's Under Pressure now?"
"I… guess?"
The song stopped abruptly.
Well, maybe not song precisely, because Lucifer kept singing for ten more seconds after the piano keys had stopped working, then paused with a surprised expression on his face.
Weird. Lucifer hit the keys, hoping they would start working again, but there was no sound. He hit them again, with more force, yet still to no avail. People around him started murmuring, and he mouthed a quiet, utterly confused "What?" before trying again. Nothing. And in the middle of a song, no less! How dare they? Was it because he had cleaned them wrong? It was, wasn't it? Bloody hell.
"Aw, you poor soul. Do you fancy a duet? Someone to help you out?"
Because, finally, Crowley had finished squeezing through the crowd, cursing everyone around, and now could lean against the piano, pretending to be disinterested in the whole thing.
Lucifer shook his head while frowning and pressing various keys with increasing frustration, and Crowley had to grin widely. Just had to. Apparently never once Lucifer even thought about using his new powers to fix the situation.
"Unless you're a piano tuner, fixer, or whatever, really, I don't think—" Lucifer stopped abruptly and looked up with narrowed eyes, all accusing. "Oh, bloody hell, this is your doing, isn't it?"
"Do you know what my Bentley does?" Crowley started conversationally. Honestly, he would miss it. Well, no, not the Bentley, not right now, but miss being able to annoy Lucifer. Not only that. He was going to miss their usual banter and how he knew he could always trust the Lord of Hell, because no matter what was happening, Lucifer had his back. And vice versa. It was… Oh, damn it all the way to Hell, but it was nice to have a sibling again. "With any tape left in it for over a fortnight?"
"What?" The smugger the expression on Crowley's face was, the more protective Lucifer felt over his piano. "Eats it? Chucks it at your head? Plays it and pretends to be Christine?"
Crowley leveled Lucifer with a deadpan look.
"Turns it into a Best of Queen album."
"…and you're telling me this why, exactly?"
The demon shrugged nonchalantly, but his smile widened when he patted the side board of Lucifer's piano.
"Oh, you know. No reason at all."
Lucifer closed his eyes, tempted to pray to himself, and experimentally played a few notes to Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. This time, the piano cooperated with him. The second it did, Crowley snorted, and Lucifer felt a sudden urge to go back to that moment when Maze had mistakenly tried to take the serpent demon to the cell, and this time? Let her.
The urge intensified when Crowley slapped a ten-dollar bill on the piano and smiled way too pleasantly.
"Do you take requests?"
Chloe walked up to Aziraphale with a drink in her hand. The angel was nodding to the music, not really stopping himself from smiling brightly. Who knew his Crowley had such a good singing voice? And who knew Lucifer wouldn't smite him the moment he first sat on the piano, then laid down on it, then hopped off, then did some absolutely embarrassing little dance behind Lucifer's back only to return to sitting on the piano?
"How do you like it here?" Chloe asked loudly so Aziraphale would hear her over Crowley's "Watching some good friends screaming 'let me out'!" first, then over Lucifer's "Pray tomorrow gets me higher, higheeer".
"Here?" Aziraphale looked around the club. It was… pleasant, yes, but with too many people for his taste. Still… it was nice. Well. Maybe he could manage without those ladies dancing on the bar and on the tables, although it was interesting. "It's, uh, lovely."
"No! No, not here-here. I know it's not for us. I prefer to stay at home with Trixie and Lucifer, too, don't worry." Chloe nudged the angel next to her with her elbow, and Aziraphale relaxed visibly. No need for pretending, it seemed, and he welcomed the revelation happily.
"Oh. Oh, jolly good. Thank you. It's more Crowley's style than mine. But if not Lux, then what did you mean?"
"Los Angeles," Chloe explained herself, careful now. Lucifer would get pretty upset if he knew what she was going to say next. Only… it needed to be said. For his sake. "I know Lucifer insists he's fine, but it takes time and work. And ever since Crowley came along, Lucifer stopped flinching, he's more relaxed and, um, open. Playful. I don't think… I don't think he's like that around Amenadiel, and he needs his family right now. Could you maybe… consider staying here for the time being?"
"I, oh. Well. Crowley did face the archangel Michael without thinking twice about it," Aziraphale admitted after a long moment, thinking the whole thing over. "Called him Mike, too. And before that, he actually convinced Michael and Gabriel to abandon the idea of the war. He… he's gotten more confident after starting working with Lucifer, I think. And maybe… kinder as well. To people other than me."
Both Aziraphale and Chloe were startled when the people around them started to sing along with their two absolutely inappropriate infernal beings. Lucifer was having a lot of fun, playing with more energy than strictly necessary, and hitting all high notes while Crowley danced around the piano.
"Can't we give ourselves one more chance? Why can't we give love that one more chance? Why can't we give love, giiiive loooove…"
"'Cause love's such an old-fashioned word. Slashed and torn. And love dares you to care for the people on the streets," Crowley held out his own microphone – apparently miracled out of thin air – to the crowd, enjoying being in the spotlight like that. He kind of could understand why Lucifer liked performing so much. "And love dares you to change our way of…"
"…caring about ourselves," Lucifer joined in on the fun, both focusing on the microphone in front of his face, and on Crowley next to him. He didn't… He knew it was the end, that Crowley would leave to London, leave him, but he really didn't want it to be that. To be the end. "This is our last dance…"
"This is our last dance." But maybe it didn't have to be the end. Not if Crowley decided to stay in Los Angeles for a little longer. And with what had been happening before, the wild rollercoaster ride for the both of them, maybe they finally deserved a little quiet in the same city. The opportunity to just… catch up, maybe. To be brothers, and not a king and his servant. "This is ourselves—"
"—under pressure."
So maybe that was what would happen now. Because while maybe it wasn't the happy ending Lucifer had dreamed up for himself, it still was something. Something of his own to work with, where it didn't really matter if he still had nightmares or not, if there was another threat coming or not, if Crowley would just visit him instead of staying. Because in that something he was happy right now, and he knew, deep down, that maybe this time all his wishes would come true.
And that something was worth fighting for.
A/N: Thank you for the journey together :)! This is the last instalment in my two-part Lucifer series :) Hope you all liked it! Reviews mean so much to me :D!