"That's the most Gabriel-esque thing I've ever seen you do." Sam pressed his fist to his mouth, but Lucifer could see him laughing.
He rolled his shoulders and glared at the offending corner he'd run into. "Well, you didn't see it, so I have no idea what you're talking about."
Lucifer was unnerved at being in Terra. From the second he'd crossed the dirt onto the court property, there was a heavy presence that told him to leave. Samael's Grace pooled in his chest, waiting.
Castiel was pacing a perimeter around the dining hall when they arrived. It was simple, Sam and Lucifer had ridden alone. Dean Winchester would've been in the dark about the whole operation altogether, but Lucifer had seen the way Sam lit up when the Winchester King was mentioned.
So Lucifer had to play nice with King Fragile Masculinity and maintain a cold distance from Sam. He opted for his best impression of Michael, stony expression and hand rested on the hilt of the sword slung around his waist.
"Sammy!" Dean's face lit up like he'd been in the dark for years.
Shit. Lucifer thought to himself. I've talked to him enough for a day. Sam apparently thought there was no such thing. The blonde stepped back and flattened his back against the wall he'd just run into and watched Sam.
Sam crushed his big brother in a hug, and for an instant, Lucifer missed Castiel.
"You act like you didn't just see me this morning, you jerk." Sam ruffled Dean's hair.
Lucifer made eye contact with Dean and thought as hard as he could in the Winchester's direction, Sam has that effect on people, doesn't he?
"It's because I love you, bitch." Dean hit Sam's shoulder playfully. "Mind if I borrow him for a couple hours?"
Lucifer forced a polite smile. I wish you wouldn't. "Not at all." He lied. "I need to track down Castiel, anyway."
"Cas? He's up in the library with a close friend of mine. North wing, end of the hall. There's a statue of an angel by the door." Dean grinned at Lucifer's obvious discomfort.
How had they gone from fifteen to thirty this way? Lucifer nibbled thoughtfully on his lip and ran his eyes down Sam's back. He could piss Dean off later. For now, he needed to find Castiel.
"Castiel could never stay away from a tragic story bound in leather." Lucifer smirked, sidestepping the brothers and starting off down the hallway. This fucker did not get to nickname Lucifer's baby brother.
Upon reflection, that could have been the reason for the standoffish attitude. Of course it was Sam. Lucifer rolled his shoulders again. As far as Dean was concerned, Lucifer was a cocky jerk and Sam felt obligated to pretend to like him.
That was alright with him.
"I swear to god, he never looks away from you." Dean hissed as Lucifer retreated down the hallway.
"Dean!" Sam hit his brother on the shoulder, harder than Dean's playful swat from before.
Dean staggered back like he was wounded. "Oh, Sammy, you hurt me."
"Give it a rest, jerk." Sam rolled his eyes. "I think he just called you a 'tragic story bound in leather.'" He shook his head.
Dean made a face. "I'm not tragic."
"Your face is a tragedy." Sam retorted.
"You love my face." Dean hugged his brother again, and Sam shook his head.
"You look like you have something you'd like to say." Sam pulled back and shook his head. "Spit it out."
Dean shrugged. "Come get a drink with me."
Sam rolled his eyes. "I've stopped drinking."
His shorter brother stopped short and grabbed Sam's arm. "You don't drink anymore?" Dean gaped at his scandalous confession.
"Just because alcohol heals outside wounds doesn't mean it's very good for inside wounds." Sam bit his lip and a flash of Lucifer failing to take his boots off flew out of his vision as quickly as it had come.
"Has that asshole hurt you?" Dean demanded, pulling Sam close to him.
"No, no. Dean! I'm fine." Sam shoved his brother until Dean let go. "He hasn't done anything wrong."
"I don't like him." Dean hissed.
A smile played at Sam's lips. "You literally picked him. You don't get to have problems with him."
Dean crossed his arms. "I would not have picked that cheeky bastard if I really had a choice." He pouted.
"He's really not a bad guy." Sam slipped his hand in his pocket, where his ring burned against his fingers. He'd taken it off at Lucifer's request.
Dean snorted in laughter. "Lucifer Milton? Not a bad guy? What's he paying you?" Dean shook his head.
He took offense for Lucifer. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sam crossed his arms. He hadn't meant to do it, but his ring was back on his finger.
"I'm just saying he may not have been telling you everything." Dean shrugged and pulled Sam into a sitting room with a very convenient wine rack. He gestured for Sam to sit and walked over to the bar.
Sam sat down with his back to the door. "And what makes you think that?" His shoulders were taut with his irritation at his brother.
Dean plunked two small glasses on the bar. "Because I think I know things you don't." He rummaged among the shelves, the bottles clinking together. "I think if you knew what I know, you wouldn't stray six feet from him."
Sam bit the inside of his cheek. Of course he knew, why wouldn't Lucifer have told him? "I'm safe with you."
Dean made a noise in his throat. He popped the cork off of a bottle of caramel colored liquid and filled the shot glasses much further than a shot glass should be filled. The surface of the whiskey kissed the rims of the cups. "So do you like, love him or something? Is that why you're defending him?"
Sam made a face. "Why do I have to love someone to defend them from baseless accusations made by my overprotective older brother?"
Dean gagged dramatically. "Sam!"
"What?" Sam was actually rather impressed with Dean's catlike balance as he carried the overfull glasses to the low slung table between the chairs.
"There's two reason people defend fuckbuddies, Sam. The first one is being in love, and the second is really, really good sex." Dean eyed his glass. "Oh, god, I'm gonna need more than that if we're gonna talk about your sex life."
"Then let's not. Talk. About my sex life." Sam stammered.
Dean rolled his eyes. "Then what can you tell me about him?" He picked up his glass and sipped enough liquor to eliminate the danger of spilling.
Sam shrugged. "You're gonna find a reason to be a jerk anyway."
"I owe him for you being alive." Dean pointed out. "So he's got that going for him."
"But?" Sam leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
"But he's fucking my brother." Dean concluded. "My baby brother. Ugh, that makes me sick."
Sam rolled his eyes. "So what, Dean?" A smirk broke out over his face as he remembered Lucifer's story about Dean. "Are you jealous?"
"Why the hell would I be jealous?" Dean took another short sip of his whiskey.
"You have to admit he's hot." Sam teased. He dipped his pinky into the whiskey. "I mean, knowing you, if you ever got the chance…"
"Well, there's no chance!" Dean's cheeks flushed red. He drank the last of his glass in one gulp. "I don't—no! Not that cocky son of a bitch!"
Sam bit his lip, trying to control his giggling. "You're blushing an awful lot, there." The evil thought that crossed his mind should never have been spoken, but his mouth was not that smart. "Maybe another Milton brother caught your eye, then?"
Dean's eyes widened in panic. "No! That's… no! God, Sam!" He slammed the shot onto the table and shook his head like a horse. "Nuh uh."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Because you totally haven't been keeping Castiel here for over a week without him telling you why he's staying. I totally buy that."
"You don't have to buy anything. I know a lot more things than you." Dean sputtered. "And not about Cas!"
Sam shook his head. "So what do you think you know that I don't?"
Dean eyed Sam's glass, untouched except for the glinting drops of liquid that Sam flicked from his pinky. "There's magic and shit."
Sam nodded and offered Dean the glass. "Yep. I know all the angel crap and the demon junk in me."
Dean shook his head. "Why would he tell you that stuff?"
Sam shrugged. "We have mutual respect." He gestured to the glass again, hoping Dean would take it.
"Him? Respect? You're lying." Dean pointed at the glass, then Sam. "Drink. You're too serious."
Sam frowned. He wasn't going to get out of this without whiskey in his system. "I'll drink if we stop talking about him."
Dean pursed his lips. "But there's stuff I gotta know."
Sam lifted the glass carefully to his lips. The drink smelled of alcohol, brown sugar, and orange peels. "What could you possibly want to know?"
When Dean asked, Sam drank. He'd need a lot more alcohol to answer that question.
"Castiel?" Lucifer pushed open the door. The library was dark, dreary, and dismal. Silence deafened the room. Cobwebs strung between empty shelves gave them room a sinister energy.
"Castiel!" Lucifer called for his brother again. Why would he be in—oh.
The message.
The letter would have been smuggled out with great care, but for Dean to send Lucifer to the source so nonchalantly had to be a trap.
Lucifer measured his steps carefully, tapping his toe to the floor before bringing his weight down on his foot.
He wished he wasn't the one to have to clean the messes like this. He could only hope that Castiel was relatively unharmed.
His black haired brother had his back to the open space of the room. Castiel's hand rested firmly on the wall, eyes closed in concentration. He flexed his shoulders when he heard Lucifer come closer. "You have yet to master the art of walking silently." Castiel hissed when Lucifer was within earshot.
"What the hell is going on?" Lucifer made a conscious effort to whisper quieter than normal.
"The archivist of Winchester." Castiel whispered. "She's been the Knight all along." He turned his head, eyes still closed, to gaze right at the wall. "I've locked her to within the castle walls, but I do not know where she's gone."
Lucifer hissed in the back of his throat. "Isn't her name Meg?"
Castiel nodded, a minute dip of his chin. "Yes. She is close to the Winchester King and more than capable of manipulation."
"I'll find her. I doubt the Knight crap will work on me, but we'll see." Lucifer gently touched Castiel's shoulder. "After this is over, Crowley wants to see you."
"Why does Crowley need to see me?" Castiel cocked his head to the side.
Lucifer began his retreat towards the door. "It's just important."
Drunk Sam said lots of things sober Sam would be horrified by.
Drunk Sam was also more handsy than usual.
Dean helped his taller, gangly brother back to his room and deposited him on his childhood bed. Sam whined when Dean left him alone.
Being alone in bed was no fun. He would go find Lucifer because Sam was cold and Lucifer was warm, so they could share. That was how comfort worked, equilibrium.
He stumbled to his feet and walked in a mostly straight line down the hallway. As luck would have it, his favorite blonde king was walking down the hallway.
"Luc!" Sam caught his shoulder for balance.
Lucifer's blue eyes focused on Sam's face. "Your cheeks are red." He sounded concerned. "Are you… are you drunk?" He brushed a fluttering whisper of his fingertips against Sam's cheek, pursing his lips into a small frown.
Sam shrugged. "A little bit. Dean made me do it." Sam's hand found the hem of Lucifer's shirt where it lay on his hip.
"Dean make you do that too?" Lucifer caught Sam's wandering wrist. He raised an eyebrow and continued to inspect Sam for injuries.
Sam shook his head. "Nah. Dean doesn't like you." He giggled. "But I like you." Lucifer looked like everything Sam wanted to have his hands on at that moment. Sam wanted to shove the blonde against the wall and run his hands over every inch of tanned skin.
Lucifer raised Sam's wrist to his lips and pressed a few soft kisses to Sam's knuckles. "Sammy, dear, you're drunk."
Sam shrugged and touched his forehead to Lucifer's. "This is not any different than when I'm not-drunk and asking."
"It is different." Lucifer slung one arm around Sam's broad shoulders. "You're drunk and I'm not, you can't make good decisions."
Sam growled. "This is a decision I make when I'm not-drunk."
"Your brother will still kill me." Lucifer insisted. "Let me put you to bed."
Sam hugged Lucifer tightly enough to make the blonde gasp. "Only if you come with me and I can touch you."
"Sam…" Lucifer's voice was full of warning, one that Sam chose to ignore.
The tall brunette wanted to melt straight into Lucifer's body. The blonde was warm and the subtle curve of skin across his collarbone was inviting and mouthwatering.
Lucifer guided Sam back into his room. "I'm just gonna lay you down right here, okay?" His voice was soft, the voice he used when he was soothing Jack.
"Luc!" Sam whimpered. He grabbed the king's wrist as Lucifer pulled the blanket up to tuck him in. "I wanna touch you."
The darkness of the room hid Lucifer's features as the blonde looked down at Sam. "You're drunk, Sam. I'll see you in the morning."
Sam whimpered as Lucifer's arm slipped from his grip. "Stay with me, Luc." He pulled on the blanket to adjust it. "Please."
Lucifer froze on his heel, mid-turn towards the door. He raised up his hand like he was going to wave Sam off, but made no such motion. "Your brother is going to kill me if I stay."
"I won't let him!" Sam propped himself up on his elbows. "He won't do it."
Lucifer shook his head. "I can't, Sam, not while you're drunk."
Tears welled up in Sam's eyes. Was Lucifer going to make him stay in this room alone? "Please. I just want you to cuddle me."
A visible shudder rolled across Lucifer's shoulders. "I… okay. But just cuddling." Sam heard the leather of Lucifer's belt slip across the fabric of his trousers, then the jingling of the buckle hitting the floor.
Sam clutched the blanket to his chin and watched Lucifer slip his shirt over his head. The shadowed edges of his muscles were more pronounced in the dim light. Lucifer slid his trousers down his legs and stepped out of them, neatly folding his pants and laying them on the floor. He turned to look at Sam.
"You're very lucky I don't like to tell you no, or you'd be sleeping by yourself." The blonde ruffled his fingers through his hair and crawled into bed next to Sam. He was on the wrong side of the bed, Sam realized, on the left instead of the right.
He decided that he didn't care; Lucifer was in bed with him and he was warm, and all was right in Sam's life. His head found Lucifer's chest, and he settled down to the calming beat of the blonde's heart. Sam splayed a long fingered hand across Lucifer's stomach. Why was the king's skin so soft?
Lucifer wrapped his arm around Sam's shoulder, and used his other hand to stop the brunette's from moving from its position on his stomach. "I'm right here, Sam. You can go to sleep now."
Sam growled to himself. "I wanna touch you, Luc."
A soft puff of sighed air blew Sam's hair up. "You're drunk." Lucifer repeated.
"I touch you when I'm not-drunk." Sam mumbled, turned his head to press his lips against the hot skin of Lucifer's pectoral.
"Dean will kill me." Lucifer squirmed and let his objecting hand fall away from Sam's.
Sam shrugged and let his tongue flick across the blonde's skin. Lucifer shivered beneath his hand. "I'm an adult, and married to you. Dean doesn't get to have a problem with it." He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed himself over the top of Lucifer.
Sam's knee came to rest between Lucifer's, and he easily trapped the king between his arms.
"I just wanna touch you." Sam whispered, feeling himself sway slightly from the disbalance in his head caused by Dean's whiskey.
Lucifer twisted his fingers in the collar of Sam's shirt, breath shaking in the limbo between apprehension and excitement. "I don't want you to regret me."
"I don't regret a single second. Not since the beginning." Sam lost the use of his right elbow for a moment and crashed his mouth into Lucifer's. The king tasted sweet and cold, like a snowy winter wind blew across his lips.
He would never get used to Sam Winchester's mouth kisses. The joints in Lucifer's fingers weakened and his grip fell slack in the fabric of Sam's shirt.
Sam's breath tasted like whiskey and blueberries, a strange combination that Lucifer didn't question, knowing Dean.
Sam broke away gasping, and Lucifer realized that his hands were shaking. Sam threaded his left hand through Lucifer's right, and the cold metal of Sam's ring scraped against Lucifer's finger.
He put it back on. He put the damn ring back on. The realization made Lucifer's heart flutter. Sam pressed their linked hands into the mattress above Lucifer's head.
"Sam…" Lucifer could hear the tightness in his own voice, the pitch jumping up a few octaves like he was in pain.
"Shut up, Luc." Sam mumbled. He traced his nose along the ridge of Lucifer's jawline, then pressed his lips to the pulse in the blonde king's throat. "Let me care about you."