"Is that why you keep stealing my shield and holding it upside down?" asked Steve, who had been doing some research into Satanism. He was enjoying the unusually wide berth given to him by the Shield agents who monitored his network traffic.
Steve found most of it pretty mild, but then again, he'd been an abomination unto God since 1941. Rational Satanism in particular seemed to be simply a rejection of aspects Christian ideologies that Steve had always found problematic: e.g. herd mentality, scapegoating, etc. (Turned out there were a lot of goats in Christianity too.)
The only problem he had with Satanism so far was with self-indulgence. Steve was raised Catholic, so he felt guilty for any kind of indulgence, but he was working on that with his therapist. He had even participated in Treat Yourself Day with Sam last year. (Steve was not permitted to call it Treat Yo' Self Day). He had bought himself a new pair of running shoes. Sam said something about baby steps, which Steve didn't understand because he wore a size 14.
Satanism didn't promote abuse of children, animals, or women. Mostly, it seemed to be about hating everyone equally. Steve could kind of get behind that.
It still took him a few moments to remember his manners when Satan called at the Tower two days later.
"Please have a seat," said Steve.
Tony winced when Satan's goat-butt touched his sofa, but Steve didn't know why. It was already covered in scorch marks.
Bucky gave a little wave. "Hi, Luci."
"Hi, Bucky," The Dark Lord intoned.
"Would you like a… drink of… water?" Steve faltered, looking at the flames gently lapping Satan's cloven hooves. He was really just trying not to look at his breasts.
"No, thank you." Satan turned to Bucky. "Thank you, by the way. For not sending me. Any of your goats. I am getting. Rather sick of them."
He spoke in stilted sentence, like Siri working through a particularly difficult translation (Jarvis had much faster processing speeds, but also infinitely more tradeoff, so most of the time, Steve just went with Siri; he wasn't a fast enough typist to need all that processing power.)
"Some pizza would. Be nice though."
"Did you send the video?" Bucky sighed. "We've talked about this, Luci. The Fifth Satanic Law of Earth explicitly forbids sexual advances without a mating signal. I have not given you a mating signal."
"Apologies, Bucky," said Satan. "I couldn't find any Customer Complaint Forms. I think Lilith used the last one on Louis C.K.. She is. Very into #MeToo."
(They had finally renamed the #MeToo movement when they realized a lot of people still read a hashtag as "pound.")
"I sent the. Video in lieu."
"Of a Customer Complaint Form?"
"Your soul," said Satan. "It's just. So tortured. I want a refund."
Bucky frowned. "Hydra sold you my soul?"
"No, no. Nothing like that. I just got a little bit of it in the. Transfer. In exchange, you got some of my powers. It's not a normal deal, but standard terms and conditions. Still apply."
Bucky shrugged, and the exchange seemed to be conducted with less ado than a refund at Ross: Dress for Less. ("Like, really tiny baby steps," Sam had said. "Backwards.")
Satan let out a smoke ring of relief. "Oh, thank me. That was… unpleasant. I don't know how you can. Stand it."
"The trick is not having a choice," said Bucky. Already, his shoulders looked tighter. Both of them, even though it had been a few weeks since Tony had tightened up the metal one.
Satan cocked his head and nearly took out an overhead light. "Do you want me to. Like. Take the edge off? I mean. I'm still technically an. Angel. We have healing powers."
Bucky had the same dubious expression on his face as when requested to try: acupuncture, massage, Twitter, anime, and kale. He nodded anyway.
"Cheers," said Lucifer, and then he was gone.
"Does it feel any better?" asked Steve, also dubious about what any kind of healing would do (angelic or otherwise) for someone who already had advanced regenerative abilities.
Bucky gave Steve the closest thing he had to a smile these days, and…
It was actually a smile.
"Hail Satan," said Clint.