TW for panic attacks in this chapter. The song I listened to while writing that specific scene is Breathe Me by Sia, which I'd recommend listening to while reading.
LUCIFER
Lucifer may not be as close to Michael as he used to be, but even he can tell that there's something bothering his brother. Or maybe he's not bothered, per se, but there's definitely something on his mind. Ever since he ate that apple (Lucifer still isn't sure how he got it, by the way) he's been preoccupied, staring off into space with unfocused eyes instead of hiding his face in his arms like he was before.
It's probably not any of his business, but that doesn't stop him from trying to figure out the best method of manipulation to get Michael to spill his secret. In the end, he just decides to wait until Adam wakes up, since Michael will probably talk on his own then, which is kind of sad, once he thinks about it. He and Michael are brothers, right? Yet it seems Adam is easier for Michael to talk to than Lucifer is. He's mature enough to admit that's partially his fault, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.
Around noon Lucifer decides that enough is enough, and, spurred by his own curiosity about Michael's weird mood, he goes over to the single window and rips open the blinds. A shaft of sunlight lands immediately on Adam's face, which scrunches up in displeasure. A moment later his eyes blink open and he sends a glare, frosty despite how sleepy he looks, towards Lucifer and the window.
"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Lucifer says, loudly. Adam groans and pulls the blankets over his head.
"Lucifer," Michael warns, and Lucifer turns towards him with a blinding smile on his face.
"Yes, Michael?" he says sweetly. "Something you'd like to share with the class?"
Michael narrows his eyes, but Lucifer can see something flickering in them. His smile widens.
"Lucifer," Adam growls from underneath his comforter. "Let. Me. Sleep."
"But it's such a beautiful day," Lucifer says. Then he smirks and looks his brother right in the eye as he says, "And Michael's keeping secrets."
There is a pause before Adam's head pokes out from underneath the blanket. His bedhead, Lucifer notes, is fucking ridiculous.
"Michael," Adam says slowly. "What secret is Lucifer talking about?"
Michael scowls. "It's not a secret. I was planning on saying something after you woke up, Adam."
So I was right about them, Lucifer thinks, and tries not to scowl in response.
"Well, I'm awake now," Adam says, sitting up and arching his back in a languid stretch. Lucifer, busy watching Michael watching Adam, carefully doesn't notice. "Just let me go take a shower or something first. Can it wait that long?"
Michael hesitates. "I suppose," he says reluctantly. "But it is important."
"I'll hurry, then," Adam says dryly. A moment later, he disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower starts to filter through the thin walls. Michael shifts in the bed and tucks his legs underneath him, and Lucifer stares at him until he looks up.
"Is there something I can do for you?" he asks.
Unsure of how to say what he wants to say, Lucifer opens his mouth to speak but hesitates. Michael definitely notices, and he frowns a little in response. "Do you think…. I mean, what are…." Lucifer growls, frustrated with himself and with Michael for making him say it out loud. Michael, for is part, just looks concerned for Lucifer's sanity.
"Lucifer, just speak," he says unhelpfully, and Lucifer sneers at him.
A moment of painfully awkward deliberation follows, before Lucifer blurts out, "Last night it took me three minutes to get a bag of chips." Michael narrows his eyes in confusion and is silent, and Lucifer becomes aware of how much better that sounded in his head. "It's just… that's a long time just to hack a vending machine, right?" he adds defensively, shrugging as if he doesn't care.
"It is longer than we'd need if we had our full strength, if that's what you're referring to," Michael says slowly. "I fail to see why it's relevant, though. You got your chips, regardless of how long it took."
Lucifer exhales slowly. His chest feels tight, somehow, like there's someone squeezing his ribs and his lungs and his heart into one tangled, compressed mess. He honestly doesn't know why he thought talking to his brother would help. Maybe he's just latching onto whatever feels familiar, since it seems everything else is falling apart around him.
"Glad we had that talk," he says, and Michael just looks even more confused.
A suffocatingly tense silence rests over the room as Adam goes through the contents of the envelope. It's one of those big orange ones with a little metal clasp to keep it shut, which normally can hold a fair amount of papers, but the amount of stuff Adam pulled out of it is truly staggering. If the mere fact that Michael had the envelope wasn't proof enough that God gave it to him, the number of papers that fit in the thing surely is.
Lucifer's only half-paying attention to what Adam's doing, though. He's mostly thinking about how he's the only one who hasn't been visited by God yet. It's understandable, considering what Lucifer's done in the past, but you'd think that if God went through all the trouble to raise him from Hell he would at least drop by to say "Hi".
The truth is, Lucifer's hurt by the dismissal, even if he doesn't let anyone see it, though Michael and Adam, sitting side-by-side on the bed with their heads bent close together so they can see whatever it is their looking at, are paying so little attention to Lucifer that he doesn't even have to try to keep his emotions hidden. All he does is look out the window so that they'll think whatever expression is on his face is in reaction to something happening outside the motel.
"I'm speechless," Adam says after a few minutes, and Lucifer looks over at him with half-lidded eyes.
"And here I was thinking your name was Adam," he snarks. "What next, are you going to tell me Michael's name is actually Rachel?"
Adam frowns at him. "What's up with you?"
"What's up is my dick," Lucifer mumbles, which is obnoxious enough to distract Adam. He rolls his eyes and holds up one of the papers.
"Come here, some of this stuff is for you."
Lucifer stays by the window for a few moments just to prove a point, and then he gets up and flops onto the bed. Not because Adam called him over, but because he wants to know what was in the envelope. Duh.
"So, what did Daddy Dearest leave for his most damned children?" Lucifer asks, squirming until he finds a comfortable position with his chin resting on his arms. Almost unconsciously, Adam's hand finds its way to his hair and starts scratching lightly, and Lucifer lets out a tiny sigh of contentment.
"It's basically everything we'll need to start new lives," Adam explains. "Birth certificates, credit cards, bank accounts….There's even the deed to a house somewhere in Detroit."
Lucifer scoffs. "Wow. I never realized what a shitty sense of humor He has."
Adam and Michael exchange confused looks, but Lucifer reaches for one of the laminated ID cards sitting near Adam's foot and doesn't explain himself. There are three IDs as well as a whole bunch of credit cards, library cards, and rewards cards. There's even one for PetSmart, which Lucifer doesn't understand since they have no pets. Unless you count Adam.
"Luther Wells," Lucifer reads aloud. "That's such a bad picture of me, holy shit." He grabs the other two IDs. "Adam Miller and Michael Striker. You guys look better in your pictures than I do." He squints at the tiny photos until Adam takes all three cards from him and hands him a twenty-dollar bill instead.
"He left us a bunch of cash to get us to Detroit," he explains. "But I'm not moving until I eat, so go get some breakfast."
"Do I look like your bitch?" Lucifer asks, handing the money off to Michael. "Tell him to go."
Adam rolls his eyes. "Lucifer, just go get some food." Lucifer raises his brows in challenge and settles himself more firmly on the bed. Adam glares at him and hands him another twenty. "Will you go if I let you buy whatever the hell you want with that?"
Lucifer considers it. "Fine. But don't complain about what I bring you." He snatches the bill back from a bemused Michael and lifts himself off the bed, grumbling the whole way. In the doorway, he pauses for just a second and looks over his shoulder. Adam has already begun dividing the documents into three separate piles, with Michael's help, and neither of them so much as look up. He makes sure to slam the door on the way out.
The morning—or afternoon, rather, since it's almost one o'clock—is hot and sunny, and Lucifer is incredibly disturbed to find himself sweating by the time he makes it to the nearest shopping center that has restaurants. He's glad to see that this town, unlike the last one, is apparently big enough for a McDonald's. There are only a few other people in there and they all stare at Lucifer as he comes in, but he's so glad to be out of the heat that he doesn't even retaliate like he normally would.
They're not serving pancakes anymore, which sucks. Lucifer spends an uncomfortably long time glaring at the woman behind the counter, trying to influence her thoughts so he can get some breakfast food, but to his frustration it doesn't work. He angrily orders three burgers and, in a fit of pique, a sundae with extra fudge.
He still has about twenty bucks left by the time he leaves with his two bags of food, so he looks around the shopping center and eventually decides to make a quick stop at the Dollar Tree across the parking lot. The fluffy white angel wings he buys are more than a dollar, but he's so pleased with his find that he pays the full price without complaint. He probably gets a lot of strange looks as he walks back, drinking a half-melted sundae with a pair of tiny wings strapped to his back. The thought gives him some pleasure; he can't see the people he's irritating, but he knows they're there and that's enough for him.
Sometime after he left, either Adam or Michael locked the motel door. He's annoyed that he has to knock and then wait for someone to let him in, but he comforts himself with the thought that their food is cold, and it'll be at least partly their fault for barring his way back into the room.
It's Adam who opens the door. He blinks at the sight of Lucifer's wings.
"That's what you spent twenty dollars on?" he asks incredulously.
"Don't be ridiculous," Lucifer scoffs, pushing past him. "They were only five bucks. I'm keeping the change, by the way, and I hope you like McDonald's, 'cause I'm not going back out."
"Hmm." Adam wrinkles his nose at the food, but unwraps one of the burgers without complaint. Michael joins him a moment later, ignoring the burgers in favor of the fries. Lucifer tries his best to ignore the disgustingly enticing scents wafting around the room, but he's always been just a tad too hedonistic for his own good. He grabs a few fries and dips them into the remains of his sundae. It's not bad, actually. He wonders how they would taste dipped in a strawberry milkshake.
"Is that all you want?" Adam asks, frowning slightly.
"I'm an angel," Lucifer says. "I don't need to eat."
"We do now," Michael reminds him, poking curiously at a burger. "Not as often or as much as a human, maybe, but we do need to eat."
"I ate on the way back here," Lucifer says, which isn't technically a lie. In any case, it appeases Adam, who goes back to his burger.
"This is disgusting," Michael says.
"Welcome to America," Lucifer replies.
Now that they have money, they don't need to hitchhike all the way to Detroit. Adam books plane tickets on an ancient computer at the town's public library, and then he takes Adam Miller's ID and credit card and goes out to buy supplies. He asks Lucifer to go with him, which is so surprising that Lucifer finds himself agreeing before he can even fully process the request.
The walk to the nearest Walmart is just as hot as the one to McDonald's, but for some reason it's a little more bearable. Even though he's no longer freezing, he reaches out to hold Adam's hand as they walk. Both of their palms start sweating immediately, but neither of them let go until they get to the store.
Lucifer pushes the cart and follows behind Adam as he wanders up and down the aisles, grabbing whatever he thinks they'll need and tossing it in without a care. It's mostly things like toothbrushes, soap, and razors, though he also makes a detour to buy three pairs of heavy boots and a bunch of shirts, pants, underwear, and socks.
"This should hold us over until we get to Detroit," Adam says as he goes through the cart. He finds the bag of dog treats Lucifer slipped in and puts them back on the shelf without even looking up. Lucifer wonders whether he should tell Adam that he forgot to buy a suitcase or let him figure it out on his own and have to come back for one. In the end it doesn't matter, because Adam remembers on his own and leaves Lucifer in line so he can run and grab one. While he's gone, Lucifer graciously allows the three people behind him to cut in front of him.
There's a moment of anxiety on Adam's part when they pay—the credit cards came from God, but that doesn't mean they won't be denied. The man behind the counter doesn't gasp dramatically and accuse them of credit card fraud, though, and Adam gives a tiny, relieved smile. Lucifer slips a pack of gum onto the conveyor belt and glares at Adam, daring him to put it back. He doesn't.
It's much later by the time they get back to the motel. The sun is already starting to set but it's just as hot as it was before, and Lucifer feels truly disgusting as he dumps their stuff onto the bed. Michael goes to talk quietly to Adam near the window, but Lucifer doesn't pay them any attention as he rifles through the bags, practically shivering from the feeling of sweat and dirt caked onto his skin.
He grabs clothes and soap and practically runs to the bathroom, accidentally slamming the door in his haste. The noise makes him flinch, and he forces himself to take a moment and calm down. After taking a deep breath and letting it out as slowly as he can, he turns on the shower and twists the knobs until the water is as hot as it'll go. He strips off his clothes and tosses them carelessly into the corner, then braces his hands on the sink and stares at his reflection in the mirror.
He doesn't even know if he can say he's the same as he was before. His hair is still short, if a little greasy and unkept; his eyes are still blue, though they're dull and have bags under them; his mouth is the same, even if it's tight with stress. But he looks… different. More human. If this is what two days of humanity has done to him, how will he survive however much time he has left?
He exhales sharply and squeezes his eyes shut. "Don't contemplate your own mortality, Lucifer," he mutters to himself. With one last glare at his reflection, he turns and steps into the shower. The water's hotter than he anticipated and it takes a little getting used to, but once he's adjusted it feels amazing. He can practically feel the dirt and sweat melting off as he scrubs himself down with cheap body wash. I can see why humans take showers so often, he thinks as he washes his hair. Feeling a little hedonistic today, he uses the conditioner after he washes the shampoo out.
The bathroom is a mess of steam by the time he turns the water off, so no matter how much he wipes himself down with a towel his skin retains a light sheen of moisture. Eventually he gives up and just puts on his clothes. The sweatpants and t-shirt are a little loose, not to mention completely different from the clothes he usually wears, but at least they're clean. He puts on a pair of socks, too, because he doesn't want to be walking around on the questionably clean motel floor.
When he gets out, both Michael and Adam look up at him. They look surprised, for reasons Lucifer doesn't care enough about to try to fathom. He dries his hair as well as he can and then dumps the towel onto the floor and flops onto the closest bed. Michael, who's sitting on the edge, bounces with the movement but doesn't fall off.
"I didn't expect you to shower," he says. Lucifer hides his sneer in his arms, but he's pretty sure Michael can hear it in his voice.
"I was just trying to set a good example. You smell like a dumpster."
"Lucifer, be nice," Adam says from the other bed, only half paying attention. Lucifer thinks he's looking through his new documents—his new identity—but he's too comfortable to look up and check. "But he's right, Michael, you should go take a shower. Our flight is tomorrow and you're going to feel gross enough afterwards as it is."
"If airports are so gross, why do humans insist on flying everywhere?" Michael mutters, but a few moments later Lucifer hears him walk into the bathroom and lock the door behind him.
In the few moments before the shower turns on, the only sounds in the room are the shuffling of Adam's papers and Lucifer's soft breathing. It's nice. Peaceful. Once the water starts, it's a little less peaceful, but just as nice, which is concerning. Lucifer tries to figure out why he'd enjoy this… this domesticity, but his mind feels sluggish and slow, like it had when he'd woken up in the cemetery.
The shuffling of Adam's papers stops for a moment. "You look tired," he says. "You should take a nap."
"Angels don't need sleep," Lucifer says sleepily. His head is still in his arms so it comes out more like an unintelligible mumble than actual words, but Adam gets the gist of it anyway. The shuffling noise stops, and then Lucifer hears the soft pad of footsteps coming closer. The bed dips as Adam sits next to him, and he looks up. Adam is looking down at him with a worried look on his face.
"You're not exactly a full angel anymore, Lucifer," he says, and Lucifer winces.
"You have no right to tell me what I am," he says angrily. "You're not even a full Winchester. You're a bastard child, only good as a vessel, and you couldn't even do that properly."
Adam's hand, which had found its way to Lucifer's hair again, jolts away. The worry in Adam's blue eyes disappears, and is replaced by anger and hurt. The sight doesn't give Lucifer as much satisfaction as it used to.
"You know what, I'm done," Adam says. "You've been sulking ever since we got out of the Cage and I'm not going to try to figure out why anymore. Why can't you just be happy that we're free?"
"Why can't you stay out of affairs that don't concern you, mud monkey?" Lucifer counters. His voice echoes unnaturally, and he allows his Grace—red, where any other angel's would be blue-white—to shine through his eyes. Adam pales, but glares at Lucifer as he goes back to his bed.
"When you drop dead because you aren't taking care of yourself, don't come crying to me," he snaps. Lucifer sneers, but his heartbeat speeds up at the thought of dying. He exhales and puts his head back in his arms. A second later, the paper-shuffling noise comes back, and Lucifer focuses on it as he tries to calm down.
It doesn't work. His heartbeat rabbits against his ribs, his breath comes in short, sporadic bursts, and the tightness in his chest from earlier returns. It presses against his lungs and makes it hard to breathe, and he feels the sharp, unfamiliar feeling of panic setting in.
He doesn't realize he's shaking until he feels something run through his hair. It takes him a second to realize it's Adam's hand, and then he lifts his head and tries to glare. He's not sure what he looks like, but Adam's eyebrows are furrowed with concern so he figures he looks pretty pathetic. Much to his frustration, the thought brings angry tears to his eyes.
Adam's mouth moves and through the ringing in his ears, Lucifer thinks he can make out the sound of his own name. That just makes him angrier, and he pushes Adam away at the same time as he pushes himself up. He trips and ends up falling gracelessly onto his butt, and then he scoots into the corner and crouches there defensively, wishing he had wings to spread.
"Leave me alone," he hisses. Dimly, he's aware of the bathroom door opening, but it doesn't register until he sees Michael suddenly standing next to Adam, his eyes wide and his hair dripping wet.
"Lucifer," he says. His voice sounds distorted, and Lucifer's breath hitches in response.
"Go away!" The lamp on the bedside table explodes into millions of shards of glass and cheap plastic, and both Adam and Michael flinch. Lucifer sinks down until his butt is on the floor.
"Lucifer, I think you're having a panic attack," Adam says, somewhat desperately.
"Get out!" Lucifer shouts. This time it's the bathroom mirror that shatters; he can hear the crash of glass hitting the floor, and he flinches at the noise. His face feels hot and sticky where tears stream down his cheeks, and he scrubs at them angrily with one hand. He flinches when Michael reaches for him and tries to push himself farther back into the wall. He doesn't want them to see him like this, and he doesn't understand why they won't just leave.
That pressure in his chest is back, pushing and squeezing harder than ever before. Lucifer squeezes his eyes shut and clutches at his chest, fisting his hand in his shirt. A sob is trapped in his throat, unable to escape because he can't breathe, he can't breathe he can't breathe he really is going to die here-
"Lucifer, breathe, dammit!" Adam shouts, his hands on Lucifer's shoulders with bruising pressure. His eyes are wide with emotions Lucifer can't name as he stares into them. "Keep your eyes on me, okay? I need you to take a deep breath in."
He breathes in slowly as if to show Lucifer what to do, and Lucifer copies him, overwhelming fear overriding his pride for a moment. He dissolves into coughs once his chest expands as much as it can, which isn't nearly as much as Adam's encouraging him to do.
"Good," Adam says, sounding relieved even though Lucifer still can't breathe through his coughing. Except he manages to suck in a huge breath in the middle of his fit, and by the time his coughs have subsided, he's breathing. Well, sobbing, but that's still better than not breathing at all.
Michael, who'd been standing behind Adam with a fearful look on his face, pushes forward then and envelops Lucifer in a hug, and Lucifer sinks into it, muffling his wails into his brother's shirt. A hand cards gently through his hair and he doesn't know if it's Michael's or Lucifer's. At this point, he's too gone to care.
He doesn't know how long they sit there on the floor, but it feels like an eternity before Lucifer's sobs dissolve into short, hiccupping breaths. He doesn't want to move and face the other two. With his face pressed into his brother's chest and his eyes closed tight, he can almost pretend that he doesn't eventually have to. But all too soon, Michael starts to pull away. Lucifer whines in protest and keeps his eyes closed tight.
"Lucifer, open your eyes," Adam says, and Lucifer shakes his head.
"Luci, please." That's Michael, sounding more wrecked than Lucifer's ever heard him, and his eyes open unbidden. They're both kneeling in front of him, watching him with wide, anxious eyes. Adam's even crying. Lucifer's too tired to sneer like he normally would.
"Don't talk to me," he says, his voice still thick with tears. He rubs his cheek against his shoulder, but it doesn't help get rid of the gross, sticky feeling of tears drying on his face. He feels like shit; his nose is stuffy, his sinuses burn, his throat's sore, his head hurts, and he wants nothing more than to just stop feeling.
"Okay," Adam says, softly, like he's calming a wild, skittish animal. He reaches out and wipes the other side of Lucifer's face, and Lucifer doesn't do anything except watch him. "Okay, but let's get off the floor first. Do you think you can move?"
Lucifer glares and carefully pulls himself up, leaning against the wall for balance and ignoring the way his knees flare up with pain. The other two stand with him and Michael reaches out, an aborted little movement that speaks of a need to offer stability. Lucifer leans towards him the slightest bit, which is all the incentive Michael needs to reach out and wrap an arm around his waist.
"You should sleep," Adam murmurs. "And drink something. Do you want to wash your face first?"
Lucifer looks towards the bathroom, where he can clearly make out the glare of light bouncing off broken glass. He thinks washing his face would help, but he doesn't have the energy necessary to do it himself right now. Adam must be able to tell what he's thinking, because he pushes him gently towards the bed.
"Go lie down," he says. "I'll bring you a washcloth or something."
Michael helps Lucifer stumble towards the bed and draws the blankets up over his shoulders. Lucifer closes his eyes and burrows into them. The dry, staticky smell of cheap laundry detergent hurts his nose, but it's warm under the blankets, and he can't stop shivering. The bed dips as Michael sits on the edge of it. He runs a hand carefully up and down Lucifer's back through the blanket. It's awkward, like he's not sure how to offer physical comfort and is only copying what he's seen someone else do, but Lucifer leans into the contact anyway.
"Are you okay?" Michael asks quietly. Lucifer shuts his eyes and doesn't answer. Michael doesn't ask again.
Adam returns a few moments later, a glass of water in one hand and a wet washcloth in the other. He makes Lucifer sit up and drink it all (he never thought he could be so thirsty, but he drains the whole glass in only a few gulps) before handing him the cloth. He scrubs at his eyes and cheeks until the only trace of his tears are his swollen, red-rimmed eyes.
Finally, he is permitted to lie down again. Considering how against it he was before, he falls asleep quickly.
He opens his eyes to darkness, and is so groggy that it takes him a few moments to remember where he is, and why. His arms are heavy when he tries to lift a hand to his eyes and he feels weak, light-headed, and empty. Everything hurts.
"Lucifer?" Adam calls softly from somewhere nearby. Lucifer doesn't want to face him right now and briefly considers going back to sleep, but it's bad enough that he's slept so much already. He sits up with a pained grimace, surprised that such a simple action could require so much energy. Adam is there immediately, hovering with one hand partially outstretched, as if he wants to reach out and help but isn't sure he would be allowed.
Lucifer is glad; he doesn't feel like being touched right now. His skin is crawling, his frame wracked with shivers that he hasn't felt since those early days in the cage. Ignoring Adam for the moment, he looks around the motel room and feels a sharp pang of wrongness in his gut when he notices something missing.
"Where's Michael?" he asks. His voice, croaky and hoarse, surprises them both. Adam reaches for a water bottle on the nightstand and hands it to Lucifer, then glares until he starts drinking.
"He went out not too long ago," Adam says. "He said he wouldn't be long, though."
That sense of wrongness is still there, but knowing his brother will be back soon makes it abate a little. He guzzles down half the water bottle before handing it back, even though the water felt amazing on his dry throat and he's sure he could drink more.
Adam looks at him hesitantly out of the corner of his eye and plays absentmindedly with the water bottle's cap. Lucifer debates ignoring him completely or asking the questions he has, but Adam beats him to it.
"Lucifer," he starts.
"What was that?" Lucifer interrupts. If this awkward encounter is going to happen, it's going to happen on his terms.
Adam looks a bit taken aback, but then he turns on the bed to fully face Lucifer and his hands go still where they're holding the bottle.
"That was a panic attack," he says, his voice strangely clinical. Lucifer rolls the term around his mind, trying it out and feeling all of its contours and nuances. He decides he doesn't like it.
"Why?" he demands. Adam shrugs.
"They can be triggered by a lot of different things," he says. He looks a little ashamed. "I think what I said didn't help. I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier."
Now Lucifer shrugs. "I snapped first," he says, which is as close to an apology as he's going to get. He hopes Adam realizes that, because Lucifer is exhausted and he's not going to deal with this human demanding a proper apology. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and tries to stand, but as soon as he does black spots appear over his vision and he sways. Adam jumps up and gently pushes him back onto the bed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says. "Panic attacks can take a lot out of you."
Lucifer sneers. Hot, dark emotions roil in his gut—anger, definitely, and anxiety, and something he thinks might be shame—and he clenches his fists. Adam notices, and gently pries his fingers away from his palms.
"I'm an archangel," he says. "Nothing affects me like it would a human."
"Maybe not usually," Adam says. "But your Grace is diminished right now. You're not human, but you're not as invulnerable as you used to be."
Lucifer glares and turns his head away, staring at the wall angrily. Adam sighs.
"Can I touch you?" he asks. Lucifer shudders at the thought of hands on him.
"No," he says, and Adam instantly backs off a bit.
"Okay," he says. "I want you to try to take deep breaths. You were only out for an hour and a half, but you might still feel anxious or whatever."
"How do you know so much about panic attacks?" Lucifer asks curiously, and then takes a shaky breath in through his nose. Adam smiles softly and looks down at his hands, but it's obvious that he's not focusing on them.
"I was a pre-med student before. Well. Before everything," he says wistfully. He blinks and visibly pulls himself together. "It wasn't exactly part of our curriculum since we weren't training to be therapists or anything, but I thought it would be useful to know what to do."
Lucifer doesn't know how to respond to the longing in Adam's voice, so he simply nods and continues breathing.
Michael returns only a few minutes later, holding a few plastic bags. It takes him a while to notice that Lucifer's awake.
"I found everything you wanted except for the portable DVD player, but the woman at the front desk told me the TV comes with movie channels, so-" He blinks at Lucifer. "Oh. Um. Hello."
"Hi," Lucifer says, a little amused. He's never seen his brother so preoccupied before, and it's a welcome change from the stoic Michael who was always in control who Lucifer remembers. "What's with all the stuff?"
"I asked him to get some things I thought you might need," Adam says. "You know, food, water, Tylenol. Stuff like that."
"Um, no. I'm good," Lucifer says. Adam narrows his eyes.
"I don't think so," he says. "Look, I get that you have some macho angel complex thing going on, but unless you want to fuck up your body, I suggest you listen to me, seeing as I'm the only one who has any experience with being human."
"I'm not human!" Lucifer snaps. Adam makes a face like he wants to strangle Lucifer, but Michael intervenes before things get out of hand.
"I think you should listen to Adam," he says to Lucifer. "He's right, he's the only one with experience about these things." Lucifer bristles, but pauses when Michael turns to Adam. "But don't try to push him into anything. That's not going to help anyone."
Adam purses his lips and crosses his arms, but nods once. "I think," he says, "that you should eat something and drink some more water, at the very least."
"I'm not hungry," Lucifer says.
"Well, it's not like you'd know that even if you were," Adam points out patiently, and Lucifer grits his teeth. He preferred it when Adam was yelling at him; at least then he had an excuse to yell back. "Look, panic attacks can take a lot out of you, so regardless of whether or not you were hungry before, you should eat something."
"What part of 'no'-"
"Lucifer," Michael says sternly, and Lucifer's mouth snaps shut. He looks up at his brother with eyes wide from surprise. "This is no longer stubbornness. If you continue to refuse Adam's advice, even knowing that he's simply trying to help you, it will become self-harm."
Lucifer's mouth drops open in shock. Self-harm is one of the worst things an angel can do, almost as bad as disobeying or purposefully Falling. Even when Lucifer was creating demons and enticing humans to rebel against God, he never went that far.
"Fine," he hisses. He flops back onto the bed, then winces when it makes his head throb. "Do what you want with me, witch doctor."
"God, you're so annoying," Adam mutters. "Alright, come on, at least sit up. Do you have to pee or anything?"
Lucifer makes a face. "No, thankfully," he says. He sits up, then scoots over to the middle of the bed when Adam nudges at his hip. He and Michael settle on either side of Lucifer, effectively boxing him in, unless he wants to crawl over one of their laps or the foot of the bed. He decides to stay to save whatever dignity he has left.
They pull the comforter off of the other bed and wrap it around them and then pile pillows up behind them so they have something soft to lean against, and Lucifer admits—way, way in the back of his mind—that he's comfortable. Extremely comfortable, in fact. He surreptitiously snuggles down into the comforter and presses back against the heat of Adam's arm against his own.
"Here," Adam says, pulling the plastic grocery bags towards him. "We have soup, sandwiches, Gatorade, water, cookies, and granola bars. What are you in the mood for?"
Lucifer purses his lips. "Soup, I guess," he says. "It better not be fucking tomato."
Adam checks the lid of the soup container. "Chicken noodle," he says, passing the cup and a plastic spoon over. "Michael, do you want anything?"
"No, thank you," Michael says. Lucifer silently fumes over the fact that Adam doesn't force him to eat, but he doesn't want to seem like an immature brat by bringing it up, so he simply eats his soup.
The woman at the front desk apparently can't tell the difference between movie channels and a movie channel. Unless they want to watch pay-per-view porn, they have to settle for a movie about something called Muppets. It's inane and pointless, but it provides background noise for Lucifer to tune out as he eats. After the soup is finished he finds he's still hungry, so he eats one of the sandwiches and drains a water bottle, too, less to satisfy his own hunger than to satisfy Adam's mother hen instincts.
Almost an hour later, Lucifer's eyes are closed and his head has dropped onto Michael's shoulder, and he's barely hanging on to the last threads of consciousness. He's too comfortable to move or to worry about how his brother might react.
"You can go back to sleep, if you want. We have to be at the airport early anyway, so you should get whatever sleep you can," Adam says softly. Lucifer mumbles in response and turns his face farther into Michael's shoulder, sighing in contentment when he feels an arm tentatively wrap around his shoulders.
Soon, he is asleep.
About a hundred or so years ago, when they were still in the Cage, Adam had woken up after one of his decade-long naps and declared that even in the absence of time, he was still not a morning person. Lucifer and Michael didn't understand what that meant at first, but after a few days on Earth, Lucifer is pretty confident that he's not a morning person, either. Michael, because of course he has to be a morning person, has no problem getting up hours before ass crack of dawn so they can go to the airport, but Lucifer (and Adam, to a lesser extent) is still-half asleep when they check out.
He showers while Adam and Michael pack their stuff into the newly-bought suitcases, hoping that the water will help wake him up, but he's still exhausted—though a little more clean—when they leave. The original plan was to sneak out without paying for the room, but thanks to God and the envelope of cash He left Michael (Lucifer is not bitter) they can actually afford to pay for their room.
Lucifer and Michael wait in the taxi while Adam pays. There are three seats in the back but Lucifer sits next to the driver, who gives him a disgruntled look and scoots a little closer to the driver's side door. Giving her a half-hearted glare, he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep again as quickly as possible. He remembers that it was actually nice to sleep in a car, with the rhythmic rocking motions keeping him in some half-asleep trance, and once Adam returns and the taxi sets off, he finds himself slipping further and further towards slumber.
He doesn't know when he eventually nods off, but when he blinks open his eyes again there's bright sunlight shining directly into his eyes and the scenery outside is passing by so fast it's just a blur. He makes a disgruntled noise and sits up from where he was slumped against the window.
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Adam says with a grin.
"Fuck off," Lucifer grumbles. The cab driver snickers under her breath and Lucifer flips her off, which just makes her laugh even more. "Are we almost there?"
"Yeah, the exit should be coming up soon," the driver says. Adam locks eyes with Lucifer in the mirror, a devious little grin on his face.
"Did you know," he says, "that you make these really cute little humming noises in your sleep?"
Lucifer's face heats up all of a sudden, and he watches in the rear view mirror as his cheeks turn pink. In the seat behind him, Michael laughs. It's an unfamiliar enough sound that Lucifer's slightly distracted, but then Adam joins in and he's irritated again.
"I did not wake up to be harassed like this," he says. Even the cab driver looks amused. Lucifer goes back to leaning against the window, but he doesn't close his eyes. He watches as the highway flies by outside the car, faster than his human body could run but slower than he could fly. He wonders if this is what it would look like if he slowed down when flying.
The driver wasn't lying when she said they were close. Only a few minutes after Lucifer wakes up, they take the exit that leads to the airport. Soon, the cab is pulled up in front of the arrivals gate and Lucifer, Michael, and Adam are pulling their suitcase out of the back.
Even this early there are a lot of people milling around, some looking as tired as Lucifer feels and some with a manic energy that outs them as late for their flights. Adam fits right in with the bustle but Michael and Lucifer, trailing behind him with no idea of where they're going, stick out like sore thumbs. At least, Lucifer feels like they do. Some people give him strange looks as he passes, but that may just be because he's glaring distrustfully at everything like he's tripping on acid and seeing things.
Their bag, even though it contains literally all of their worldly possessions, is small enough to be a carry on, so once they get their tickets from the self-serve kiosk, they pass by the check-in counters and head straight for security.
Lucifer's been inside of airports before, but he can't stop looking around as they walk; this airport is so small, and there are so many people around even though it's so early. Eventually he lags behind enough that Adam doubles back to grab his arm and drag him along, which just makes it easier for Lucifer to look around without bumping into anyone.
Security annoys him but it goes by relatively quickly, and then they're at their gate, settling into the hard plastic chairs. There are little travel shops and restaurants scattered all along the hall, wafting warm, enticing smells throughout this entire section of the airport. Lucifer covers his nose with the cuff of his coat sleeve in an attempt to block them out, but his stomach, as if able to sense the food, rumbles anyway. Adam raises an eyebrow at him.
"Hungry?" he asks. Lucifer glares. He's about to say no, but then his stomach gives another little grumble and he blushes. Michael smirks at him.
"It does smell delicious in here," he says.
"Yeah, I could go for some food," Adam says. "It's about time for breakfast, anyway."
"It's only eight in the morning," Lucifer protests.
"I know," Adam says with a slight wince. He shares a look with Lucifer. "I'm totally not a morning person."
"Preach," Lucifer says.
"That being said," Adam continues, fishing the envelope out of the depths of the suitcase's outer pocket, "we might as well eat. Just don't get anything too sugary."
"Yes, mom," Lucifer says sarcastically, taking the money that Adam holds out for him. He shoves it into his pocket and then leaves his hand there, and uses his other to pull Michael up out of his seat. "Come on, let's go get breakfast."
"Why do I have to come?" Michael asks even as he falls into step with Lucifer.
"Because I could get lost in here," Lucifer says, turning to him with wide, innocent eyes. "What would you do with my ID and credit cards if I was kidnapped or murdered?"
Michael rolls his eyes. "Let's just get food," he says, "before our human is forced to come find us."
Lucifer follows bemusedly as Michael hunts for a decent breakfast place, his thoughts all centered around two words. Our human? Since when is Adam theirs? As appealing as that sounds—and isn't that a scary thought all on its own?—Lucifer is more inclined to believe that Adam would never belong to anyone. He's much too independent to ever need anyone as Michael is implying, or to be a pet, as Lucifer silently called him not that long ago.
Still, he can't deny that the thought makes him pleased, for more than one reason. He can't remember the last time he was grouped together with Michael in a way that didn't pitt them against each other. It's been Lucifer and Michael, harbingers of the Apocalypse for so long that just plain old Lucifer and Michael sounds strange. But not… unpleasant.
"Lucifer."
He blinks back to the present to find Michael staring at him with his eyebrows furrowed. Somehow, they ended up first in line at a Cinnabon place, but Michael's ignoring the irritated looking person behind the counter in favor of frowning at Lucifer.
"I've been trying to get your attention for a while," he says. Lucifer shrugs.
"Try harder next time," he replies, pushing past his brother to order their breakfast: three Cinnabons, and a water bottle and a cup of diced fruit since Adam didn't want anything too sweet. Lucifer makes Michael carry the bag as they walk back to their gate. He keeps his gaze ahead and his steps easy and natural despite the discomfort caused by Michael's gaze.
He wonders what his brother thinks about this whole situation—and especially about being forced to travel with a Winchester half-breed and Lucifer, of all beings—but he's not going to ask. He tried having a serious discussion with Michael not too long ago and it didn't really work out, but he doesn't know if it's because Michael's not good at picking up implications or because Lucifer's a little too subtle. Or maybe it was a combination of both.
Adam, it seems, has picked up a book from on if the stores while Lucifer and Michael were getting food. He's sitting sideways in his chair with his legs thrown over the seat next to him and his head resting awkwardly on the back of his chair. He smiles and sits up when he sees them, sliding a finger into his book to mark his place, but when he sees the bag held in Michael's hand he makes a face.
"Cinnabons?" he says. "Those count as sugary, Lucifer."
"Hey, it wasn't my idea to get them," Lucifer says defensively. "Besides, we got you fruit, too." He sits down next to Adam and pulls his Cinnabon out of the bag before passing it over. Once Adam finds his cup of fruit and a fork, he returns to his previous position, this time with his head on Lucifer's shoulder and his legs thrown over Michael's lap. An old man sitting in the row across from theirs glares at them, and Lucifer gleefully flips him off and makes faces until he huffs and leaves.
Lucifer likes Cinnabons, but he eats this one slowly, taking small bites because it really is very sugary. He can already feel his stomach cramping up in protest to all that sweetness so early in the morning, so he alternates between bites of Cinnabon and sips of water, and the occasional piece of fruit from Adam's cup. Two seats down, Michael is poking at his Cinnabon with his fork, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"It's so… messy," he says. Lucifer and Adam gape at him.
"You've never had a Cinnabon before?" Adam asks incredulously.
"I've never had a Cinnabon before," Michael affirms. "I've never had reason to eat one before."
"Someone's wronged you," Lucifer says, and Michael glares half-heartedly at him. "Look, just cut a piece off with your fork and eat it."
"But there's so much stuff on it," Michael says.
"The stuff is the best part," Adam says. "Just trust us, it's worth it."
Michael looks dubious still, but he obediently cuts a good sized piece of the Cinnabon off and eats it. Adam and Lucifer watch intently as he chews, and when his eyes suddenly widen in surprise, they both grin.
"Like it?" Lucifer asks.
"I have never been more glad of my human taste buds," Michael says, and takes another bigger bite. Lucifer's smile dims a little at that, and he sits back and stares at the half-eaten Cinnabon in his lap. He closes the lid and puts it back into the bag. Maybe he'll finish it later.
There's a little ding on the overhead PA system as the man behind the counter lifts an old-fashioned cord phone to his ear.
"Flight 388 to Willow Run is on time and will now begin boarding. All pre-boarding passengers, please form a line and have your boarding passes ready."
"Is that us?" Lucifer asks.
"No, we're group B," Adam replies. "But we should probably get ready to go, anyway. Michael, could you help me throw the trash away?"
While they head off in search of a trash can, Lucifer wanders over to the large floor-to-ceiling windows next to the terminal and looks out at the plane. It's on the smaller side, since the flight isn't that long, and it doesn't look safe. Its wings are already wobbling slightly in the wind from outside. Lucifer is incredibly dubious about its ability to even stay in the air, but he doesn't have any other choice but to trust that this thing won't crash.
If he could fly on his own, he would—actually, if he could fly on his own, he wouldn't still be here. He'd be far, far away from any angels or Winchesters, maybe trying to figure out a way to regain all of his powers back, or maybe simply gathering strength for when Michael inevitably came for him again.
He leans his head against the cool glass and sighs, allowing himself only a brief moment to sag against the window and wallow in the fact that he has no idea what to do. Then he straightens up and grabs the handle of the suitcase, and wheels it over to where Michael and Adam are loitering near the entrance to the terminal. They're looking at the address written on the back of the envelope that God gave them. They know it's a house—a very large house—but none of them know what they're going to find when they get there, and the uncertainty is making Lucifer incredibly nervous.
Adam looks up and beckons him over, and as Lucifer goes, he hopes that they're not about to make the biggest mistake of their lives.
This is the end of the story, guys! I have to admit, I wasn't expecting to finish this, let alone publish it, but I've gotten a pretty positive response so I'm glad I did. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger so just know that I'm going to post a sequel at some point. Before that, though, I have a few more stories in the works. Speaking of, would you rather me post a SPN Princess and the Frog AU or a SPN Cinderella AU?