Oh man it has a plot now. Sorta... Anyway, it looks like I'm going to be continuing this. I have another few ideas. Also, I'm really getting to like Lucifer's therapy sessions.

Monopoly Night

Chess didn't wake up till noon. And even then, he was completely fine with lying in bed for another hour or so. He never did hold his liquor all that well, nor was he all that great at hangovers. For a bartender, he kind of sucked at alcohol.

Unfortunately, Chess wasn't alone. It looked like Jack decided to stay the night...for whatever reason. He was in the kitchen, making an absolute ruckus with all his walking around and putting a pot of coffee on. Don't even get him started on the noise from the coffee machine. If it made one more drip sound, Chess just might throw it against the wall.

Except that his head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was sleep for a week.

"Finally up?" Jack said, coming back into the living room. Chess might've thought it a little weird that he was on the couch instead of his bed, but he honestly didn't care.

"What're you doing 'ere?" Chess mumbled, forcing himself to sit up. He rubbed at his face tiredly, eyes sunken in, hair a complete mess.

"Well, I was going to go home after I dropped you off here," Jack told him. "But, uh. Well, for starters, you said some really interesting things last night."

"Shit," Chess muttered, just to himself.

"And then some guy named Sam called-"

"Shit."

"-talking about how God's sister raised his mother from the dead."

"Shit."

"So, at the very least, I'm curious," Jack ended. "But I'm also concerned, and possibly freaked out, but I'm not sure yet."

"Shit." Chess rubbed his forehead and looked up at his friend. "Coffee?" he mumbled, prompting a sigh as Jack stood to get him a mug.

"Seriously dude, what's going on with you?" Jack asked when he came back, two coffee's in hand.

"I've become a supernatural therapist," Chess muttered to himself, sipping the hot liquid slowly. It burned his tongue and throat going down and he set it down to let it cool. Jack was still waiting for an explanation, so he looked up and said, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"C'mon, we've been friends since high school," Jack reminded him. "What's going on?"

Chess rubbed at his eyes. "Okay. What, exactly, did I say last night?"

Jack shrugged. "Some real crazy stuff. Like, you have counseling sessions with God and his sister, and you like to play board games with Satan. And then there was that Sam guy talking about his recently brought back to life mom."

"Um...it's Sam," Chess muttered wearily in reply. "He's a client. Got some really crazy stuff going on in his head."

"Chess, your license was revoked last month," Jack reminded him.

A pause. "Right," Chess agreed after a moment. "When I say client, I mean that he's the brother of a friend of mine and I'm doing this as a favor, not getting paid."

"Really." Jack did not sound remotely convinced. "You never mentioned a Sam once last night." Thankfully, he left out the part where it was kind of illegal to be giving therapy to a guy without a license.

"Yep. I'm a weirdo. Can't hold my alcohol. No got away. I wanna sleep." Chess then stumbled to his room, fully intending to do just that. Jack, still worried that he might need to be admitted to a mental hospital, stuck around. Chess completely forgot it was Monday.

-0-

The silver lining was that Lucifer was no longer wearing the face of that singer guy. Chess never really learned his name, but apparently Chuck was a fan so he made Lucifer an extra-durable strength vessel who looked like the guy he was possessing when the apocalypse was still on. It was weird, to think that Chess has now seen Lucifer with three different faces (Castiel, singer guy, and now previous-vessel guy). It was also weird to think that God was a fan of some random rock band. But, at least Jack wasn't wondering why some famous singer decided to pop in on Chess at three o'clock sharp. And by pop in, he meant appearing out of thin air and nearly giving his best friend a heart attack.

"Well this is interesting," Lucifer commented once Jack had finished screaming. He turned to Chess and accused, "You forget about our appointment?"

"Would you smite me if I did?" Chess asked him wearily. He wasn't really all that concerned about Lucifer hurting him. As weird as it sounds, the devil wasn't so bad. So long as all they were doing was just playing board games and letting the conversation go where it may.

"I could, but I'm pretty sure my father would just bring you back," Lucifer replied, settling himself on the couch.

Jack was sitting in one of the plush chairs, hand clutched to his chest, eyes widened and staring at Lucifer. "On Monday's you play board games with Satan…" he mumbled.

"Hey, we don't use words like that anymore," Chess scolded him. "His name is Lucifer. Or Samael, if you really want."

Lucifer shrugged. "I'm fine with either one."

"You appeared out of nowhere," Jack breathed.

"Well, actually I flew in, but your mortal mind could not even begin to comprehend something as majestic as my wings, so-"

"Alright, that's enough," Chess cut in before things could get out of hand. He turned to Jack. "You should probably go."

"No, no, let him stay!" Lucifer said. "With him here, we can play something that you need more than two people for. Like Monopoly!"

"Monopoly with Lucifer," Chess mused to himself. Yep. That was one way to die.

"Um…" Jack stuttered. "I...uh, um…" He looked at Chess helplessly.

"Would you like any further proof that this is Lucifer?" Chess asked him. "He could, I don't know, zap us to Rome. Or snap us a hot tub." He turned to Lucifer and asked, "Oh, could you snap my headache away?" Lucifer snapped his fingers. Chess' headache was suddenly gone. "Thanks," he said, sitting down in the other chair.

Lucifer nodded and turned to Jack. "Now then. You'll stay for Monopoly, right?"

And that was how they ended up playing Monopoly with the devil. Jack...did alright. His hands shook every time he rolled the dice, and Chess sensed a long conversation in their future, but all things considered, he did alright.

An hour later, Lucifer had boardwalk. Chess was doing okay with the pinks and the reds, and Jack was hanging on by a thread with just the oranges. Chess was 86% sure that Lucifer wouldn't smite anybody if he lost, and about 92% sure that Chuck would just bring them back if he did, but he still made sure that he and Jack ended up losing. Monopoly was, after all, the game that destroyed lives. And when you're playing with an all-powerful archangel who almost destroyed the world once…

"Ah, crap, I gotta call Sam!" Chess suddenly remembered, pulling out his phone. Jack looked up from his negotiations with Lucifer, trying to get possession of the last yellow. "He's probably freaking out after talking to you!"

"So, um…" Jack looked extremely uncomfortable. "God's sister bringing their dead mother back to life?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I once counseled a giant, talking, suicidal teddy bear." How that was supposed to make Jack feel better was anyone's guess, but Chess liked to bring up the teddy bear whenever he could. Because it was a GIANT, TALKING, SUICIDAL TEDDY BEAR.

"Hello, uh, Sam?" Chess said once he heard the phone being answered. "Yeah, sorry about what happened yesterday. Long story. I might have been drunk. And you don't need to worry about my friend, I've got it taken care of. So what's this I hear about your mom coming back to life?"

"Can I talk to Sam?" Lucifer asked, leaning forward, reaching for the phone.

"Uh-huh," Chess said into the phone, swatting his hand away. "Oh, wow. That's weird."

"I wanna talk to Sam!" Lucifer whined, this time grabbing at his arm.

"Well, y'know, your freak show's followed me home," Chess said, standing up and moving away, prompting a huff from Lucifer. "Yeah, on Wednesdays I have a session with Chuck and Amara. She never mentioned your mom. Oh, and I also have Chuck-ordained sessions with Lucifer on Mondays. Right now, actually." A pause. "No, no, it's fine. My friend Jack is here. We're playing Monopoly."

"Let me talk to Sam!" Lucifer all but demanded, standing up and stalking towards him.

"No, he hasn't tried to smite me. Anyways, Thursdays sound good? Two o'clock? And you will pay me, right?" Chess waited for the answer and nodded. "Good. Oh, Lucifer wants to talk to you."

You could just hear the cries of alarm, something along the lines of, "Don't put Lucifer on!" when Chess handed over the phone. Okay, maybe that was a bad move, but he was still trying to avoid getting smote here.

"Sammy-boy!" Lucifer said into the phone cheerfully. "Guess who it is!" There was a muffled shout on the other line and he frowned. "Well, that's not a very nice thing to say!" More shouting. "Now, now, I'm done with the whole apocalypse thing. Dad's even trying to reform me, sending me to this human therapist guy. And, y'know, maybe-" He abruptly cut off and pulled the phone away from his ear. "He hung up on me!" he grumbled angrily.

Chess snatched the phone away and returned it to his pocket. Jack was white-faced with wide eyes. He had only just barely started to remotely get used to the whole Lucifer thing. God and his sister? People back from the dead? A whole 'nother can of worms. Also, it looked like Chess had another client.

Up next: Mummy dearest is back from the dead (pun fully intended)