Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandom: Supernatural
Ship: Samifer
Additional Tags: Trans Female Sam Winchester, Gender Identity, Angel Vessel Sam Winchester, Guilt, Drabble, Trans Lucifer (Supernatural), Female Lucifer (Supernatural)
Wordcount: 100
Summary:
The only line between Lucifer and Sam is the one she draws.
In Sam’s dreams, the boundary between her and Lucifer melts.
It feels nothing like possession. Lucifer lays beneath her, and she is Sam as Sam has ever needed to be, from the soft curve of her jaw to the way her chest presses into Sam’s as she leans down. Lucifer guides her closer, until Sam’s body can’t escape hers, until their intertwined fingers become her hands and Lucifer’s voice soothes from her throat.
“I would make everyone see how beautiful we are.” Sam mouths one word.
She wakes up in her own traitorous skin, hating herself for Lucifer’s offered freedom.
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step one achieved, step two failed, initiating step three: then comes the baby in the baby carriage
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandom: Supernatural
Ship: Sabrifer
Additional Tags: Mpreg, Trans Male Sam Winchester, Trans Lucifer (Supernatural), Trans Gabriel (Supernatural), that's right. t4t4t mpreg. how do you like me now., Implied/Referenced Sex, Fix-It of Sorts, Comedy, Morning After, Established Relationship, Polyamory, Pregnant Lucifer (Supernatural), Not an official tag yet. But if I have my way? It will be., Unplanned Pregnancy
Wordcount: 2053
Summary:
Sam Winchester keeps managing to do impossible things.
Of all the ways Sam thought they would stop the Apocalypse, a threesome with the devil and his trickster(-pagan-angel-whatever label Gabriel wanted these days) brother wasn’t high on the list. Not on the list at all, which was a feat, considering it had been a short list consisting of “Kill Lucifer (somehow)” and “Kill Michael (somehow.)”
It had taken a fatal stabbing. Sam could have done without that part. He’s full up on people sacrificing themselves for him, and he didn’t need Gabriel adding himself to the pile. Dean might have asked for that, (and nowadays, the memory of that sacrifice was what pulled Dean onto the side of accepting Sam’s new... partners) but Sam didn’t. He hadn’t even liked Gabriel that much back then, but he preferred him as a potential ally and thorn in their side than as a dead man.
Said fatal stabbing, and two weeks of radio silence on Lucifer’s end of the Apocalypse, and then one extremely distraught and half out of his mind from grief archangel invading Sam’s dreams to ask him for help in undoing what he had done. If Lucifer had seemed efficient in directing the end of the world, then that was nothing compared to trying to resurrect his brother. He brought Sam everything he asked for, every book and spell ingredient and even offered his own grace to bring Gabriel back. Sam could have taken advantage of him. He didn’t. At the time, he didn’t know if that was the right choice.
Now, squished between two archangels on a bed that was definitely big enough to give them space to spread out, he knew it had been.
It hadn’t been easy. Not the resurrection or what came after, nursing Gabriel back to health on Sam’s part or earning his forgiveness on Lucifer’s. There was still a lot more to do to keep the world intact. Gabriel seemed confident that convincing Raphael to their side was the right way to go, that three archangels against Michael might make their brother think twice about what he was doing, especially with Lucifer less and less inclined towards destroying everything with each passing day.
(Dean was not right when he joked that Lucifer getting laid was the secret to saving the world.
But he wasn’t exactly wrong, either.)
Gabriel snorts in his sleep and kicks lightly, disturbing the covers. Lucifer curls closer into Sam, hand sleepily stroking Gabriel’s waist where he laid on Sam’s other side. Neither of them need sleep, but Gabriel had developed the habit a long time ago and Lucifer was curious enough to give it a try. Sam reaps the benefits by being the nexus of their cuddle pile every night they join him in bed, Gabriel on his left radiating heat and Lucifer stealing it all on his right.
Sam’s got lazy morning arousal curling in his gut, teased out by the way Lucifer’s squirming against him to steal even more of Sam’s warmth. His leg slides innocuously between Sam’s thighs, but there’s enough sense memory there that Sam shivers and turns his head to press a kiss to Lucifer’s temple. They’d done that at some point last night, rutted against each other until they both came. He could remember the way Lucifer tensed up as it happened, still caught off-guard by his own orgasms, and that expression being what tipped Sam over the edge as well. He could remember Gabriel pushing them apart afterwards and licking the mess clean (though, really, only making it worse.) Lucifer twitching and gasping from overstimulation as Gabriel licked over his folds was a sight Sam was never going to forget.
Lucifer is waking up. He grumbles unhappily against Sam’s shoulder at this turn of affairs. When Sam runs his fingers through his hair, that seems to ease him a little, turning the grumble into a pleased sigh. “Good morning,” Sam greets.
“If you say so.” Lucifer doesn’t open his eyes, like the longer he can pretend he’s still sleeping, the longer he can convince Sam to stay in bed with him. Sam’s starting to be convinced that pride isn’t actually his greatest sin at all, but sloth.
It’s hardly a sin if it’s cute, though, and Lucifer, grouchy and half-asleep, was definitely cute. Sam won’t dare say that out loud (or think it too hard, because he’s still not clear on how much of his thoughts the archangels can pick up on.)
”Feeling a little left out over here,” Gabriel says, and for good measure, he nips at Sam’s shoulder blade. That’s what Sam gets for turning his back on a trickster. He rolls over.
For about ten seconds, Sam gets to enjoy Lucifer snuggling into one side and Gabriel sitting up on the other one, smiling down at him.
And then Gabriel’s face falls so fast, Sam’s fight or flight kicks in. Gabriel’s head jerks towards Lucifer and he all but hisses out, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Lucifer doesn’t react. Sam’s not sure he knows Gabriel was speaking to him.
“Um,” Sam begins.
“You’re older!” Gabriel snaps, which is when Lucifer finally opens his eyes and squints up at him. “How am I more careful than you?”
”What are you talking about?” Lucifer asks. He yawns.
”I’d also like to know,” Sam adds. He doesn’t often get treated like a third wheel, but the few times he has been, it’s been just like this, confusing and full of accusations he doesn’t understand but does get are meant to hurt more than prove any real point. He’d at least like to know what set Gabriel off.
”You’re pregnant,” Gabriel says.
Sam's brain refuses to process that.
"What?" he says, more to drown out the buzzing shock that's taken up residence in his head than ask an actual question. It gets ignored either way.
"At least you've got the decency to carry it yourself and not make some poor human"—Sam's brain comes online long enough to register that he's the poor human in that description, but it shuts down again before he can come up with a comeback—"deal with it, but... Don't you know how to use protection?" Sam looks over at Lucifer, hoping that he's going to reveal that this is all some elaborate prank. If it is, Sam will cheer because it means Gabriel and Lucifer are close enough to gang up on him. Instead, Lucifer looks like he's also shut down.
"We don't use condoms," he says, like he's unsure if that's the answer Gabriel wants. Gabriel should already know that, since he's the only one whose vessel sometimes has a dick to put them on.
"I'm talking about a higher power interfering. Your grace's built-in antivirus for nephilim. Should have kept your angel eggs from being fertilized, if you were paying any attention at all."
"You lay eggs?" Sam's voice sounds precariously high-pitched. Gabriel looks at him like he's an idiot.
"The state of sex-ed in America... No, we don't lay eggs, Sam. You knocked Lucifer up. With a baby. Live birth. You're a mammal; you've got personal experience."
"That's not possible."
"You fucked him, didn't you?"
"My dick is made of plastic!" The offending object in question is probably strewn on the floor somewhere.
"And even your strap game isn't that good." Gabriel drawls. He still sounds annoyed, but his voice is lowering again. "It doesn't matter. You had sex. Sex makes babies." He turns his gaze back on Lucifer. "The problem is that it shouldn't have happened. He knows how to prevent it."
"Gabriel," Lucifer says, very quietly, "I don't know what you're talking about."
Instinctively, Sam reaches for him. Lucifer sounds shaken, and Sam can count the times he's heard that note in his voice on one hand, most of them occurring right after Gabriel's temporary death. On his other side, when Sam turns his head to check, Gabriel's stopped scowling in frustration at Lucifer. He looks confused now, his eyes darting over his brother.
"We can get humans pregnant. And you're aware of that, right?" Lucifer doesn't answer. "Right?" Lucifer still doesn't answer. Gabriel exhales in one quick puff. "And particularly stubborn ones can get us pregnant."
"But he doesn't have the parts for that," Sam interrupts.
"Nick had a child,” Lucifer says as he sits up. The sheets slide off him. Sam looks down at the scar he'd assumed was from a hysterectomy. He hadn't even considered that it could be from a c-section instead.
"And even if he didn't, his grace would make it work," Gabriel finishes.
"How-"
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, Sam." Sam has enough self-preservation instincts to shut his mouth but not to keep it shut for very long.
”How do you know about this?”
“Experience.”
"You had a kid?"
"I've had a few kids," Gabriel says, bluntly, in the way that means, I don't want to talk about it, and if you push me, I will make your life a living hell of ten thousand tiny annoyances. You will get shocked every time you take your clothes out of the dryer for the rest of time, and you’ll always know it was because of this.
So, Sam turns back to Lucifer. The facts of this are beginning to settle in. Lucifer. Pregnancy. Lucifer, pregnant, with Sam’s kid. Human kid? Angel kid? Something in between?
Lucifer doesn’t look very good.
“Hey,” Sam says, trying to keep his own voice as soothing as he can. He rests a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder. The muscle underneath his fingers is stiff as steel, and absently, Sam works his thumb against Lucifer’s back. “You aren’t trapped like this. We can figure out a way to stop it, and we’ll be more careful next time to keep it from happening again.” Lucifer turns to look at him, confused.
”What?”
“I could do it,” Gabriel offers. “I have before. Announced a few pregnancies, terminated others, all in a day’s work.”
If Sam had to describe the expression on Lucifer’s face… he might call it heartbroken.
“You don’t want a child with me,” he says, and it’s not a question but a statement of fact, so sure of his own grasp of the situation, and as ever with Lucifer, so completely wrong about what’s actually causing strife between the three of them.
Sam’s never considered having a kid before. With Jess, he’d briefly tossed around the idea of adopting, far in the future, but having his own? Now? With Lucifer and Gabriel? It had to be one of his most batshit ideas, but at the same time… Who else would any of child of his be safer with?
And it’s watching Lucifer that convinces him. Lucifer hasn’t had the chance to be anything to the world but death and destruction in so long, and here he is with life blooming inside him.
“Of course we-“ Sam pauses. His mind is made up, but he won’t speak for Gabriel, not without knowing he’s behind this all the way. This is a far bigger commitment than occasional threesomes.
Sam’s not sure if he loves Gabriel the way he loves Lucifer (and he knows he doesn’t love him the way Lucifer does, but it’s a little unfair to compare his feelings to the intense devotion of an archangel), but he could. More importantly, would he trust him with his child?
He’s not that surprised the answer is yes.
Unreadable emotions flicker fast behind Gabriel’s eyes, and then, finally, he nods.
“We do,” he says. He crawls over Sam and into Lucifer’s lap to kiss the shock away. “Don’t make that face. You’re the one babytrapping us.”
“It wasn’t intentional,” Lucifer protests, and Gabriel steals another kiss to shut him up.
They’re actually going to do this, Sam realizes. Something giddy bubbles up in his chest. He got Lucifer pregnant, and that thought isn’t laced with panic or disbelief but euphoric glee.
“Now you’re both making stupid faces,” Gabriel says, and Sam can’t make himself stop grinning. He placates Gabriel by hiding his face in the crook of Lucifer’s neck, pressing kisses up to his jaw. Lucifer leans into him, his arms wrapped around Gabriel, content between them.
Sam’s content, too, right up until he remembers that he’s going to have to explain himself to Dean.
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Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandom: Supernatural
Ship: Lucifer/Nick/Sarah
Additional Tags: Agender Lucifer (Supernatural), It/Its and She/Her Pronouns for Lucifer (Supernatural), Polyamory, Consensual Possession, Feelings Realization, Sweet, Loving Marriage, + the devil, like you do, POV Lucifer (Supernatural), First Kiss, Pregnancy Lucifer Possessing Nick (Supernatural), past trauma
Wordcount: 2,707
Series: you, me, and the devil makes three
Summary:
The arduous process of convincing the devil that you love it.
Lucifer is trying to figure out why it is still here.
Why everything has gone wrong. Why the seals failed too early. Why Lucifer is free, but its vessel has not been informed of his role and is not ready in soul to take Lucifer in as he is in body.
But why it is still here. That one dogs Lucifer most.
“You’re quiet,” Nick says, softly. He hardly has a need to whisper. The three of them sit in the very back of the church, separated from the worshipers by a couple pews. Sarah is dozing on Nick’s shoulder, her heartbeat slow and calm. Lucifer is tuned to her every breath. Her arm is tucked over her growing belly, protective even as she rests. Lucifer understands. It is not sure when it began to, but it does.
It does not respond to Nick, not in words. It mimics breath, an inhale that presses its grace against the constraints of his ribs and an exhale that shrinks it again. It listens to Sarah. When she is around, Nick’s body calms easier. His blood pressure drops. His cells repair themselves quicker without Lucifer’s interference. Lucifer is fascinated, its grace feeling out the dilation of Nick’s veins. Carefully, so as not to cause him further harm. He does not burn around Lucifer, not anymore, but it will not take chances with him.
Nick was meant to be temporary. A second choice.
Lucifer is still here.
“Do you want to leave?” Nick asks. He doesn’t always talk to Lucifer aloud, preferring communication directly between soul and grace. He adapted to it quickly. This is more important, then, not something to be misunderstood, or it’s as simple as that he wants Sarah to also hear him. They are not mutually exclusive. Lucifer considers Nick’s offer.
It’s a strange thing, to bring the devil to church. The visits stopped being about faith months ago, from the moment that Lucifer took refuge in him and Nick adjusted to a world in which his prayers reached willing, curious ears rather than absent ones. It’s more ritual then religion now. Lucifer finds the music dull and the sermons grating, but Nick is happier when he has time to attend a service, to sit in the back of the church and close his eyes and exist. He’s no longer looking for a place to bask in divinity. He is that place now. Lucifer has made him sacred. Church is familiar, and church is constant. These are important things for humans.
They require care to maintain. Lucifer knew this in terms of vessels, how one not fit would wear out over time. It didn’t take into account the other factors. For instance, there are obvious parts of Sarah’s pregnancy that Lucifer could have guessed. She is hungry often, and she gets tired easily. Here is something Lucifer did not consider: that her changing body would necessitate a new wardrobe. (In hindsight, it’s obvious, but Lucifer has never had a body or clothing to keep.) They went shopping. Sarah and Nick teased each other about the maternity wear, and Lucifer watched as they orbited each other, feeling as much a stranger as it had been the night it entered their home.
They can’t be separated, Sarah and Nick. This, to Lucifer, is now obvious. It has taken measures to keep them safe. It will protect them.
And this makes no sense. Sarah is human, and she should be despised for that. Nick is a untrue vessel, and he should be disposable for that. Yet.
“Lucifer?” Nick asks. He sounds a little worried. Lucifer’s grace stretches through his arm. His hand rests on Sarah’s, looped around her back. Lucifer gathers in his palm to press as close to Sarah’s skin as it can. She shifts, yawning. Her eyes rest blankly on the pulpit far ahead of them for a moment before she sits up and turns her head to look at her husband. Nick meets her eyes. There is something powerful that gathers in Nick’s chest, constant but oh how it glows when he looks at her. Lucifer skirts the edges of it. It is not for Lucifer to touch.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asks. Nick rubs her arm.
“She’s wandering a lot. Not answering me.” She is an odd word of referral. Lucifer hardly minds. It likes the reverent way it sounds on Nick’s tongue. Sarah uses it, too, in a different way, but no less welcome. Softer. Like Lucifer could become something familiar. Like it already is.
“Let me try?” Sarah asks. Nick smiles as he thinks be my guest. Lucifer hears the meaning behind it because it’s inside him and can’t miss it. Sarah is not, but she understands anyway. She lifts a hand to Nick’s cheek and runs her fingers lightly down it in a way that Lucifer enjoys. “Are you with us, Lucifer?”
Lucifer blinks. Nick lets go of the reins as easily as he always does, falling back into the safety of Lucifer’s grace.
“I’m here,” it says. Sarah’s already summoned it. It’s not sure why she’s still stroking Nick’s cheek.
“Do you want to be?” she asks. “Here, I mean? We can go, if you’re uncomfortable. It’s almost over anyway.” It should make Lucifer uncomfortable. It should feel like an insult to sit and listen to humans pay homage to its Father. It should make Lucifer furious. Instead, this is all so divorced from what it remembers that it’s hard to feel anything about it at all. The only time it has ever asked to leave early was when the preacher talked of Hell. Mostly because it was difficult to listen to him prattle on about something he couldn’t hope to understand. No other reason. No sinking cold or feeling of being trapped by even the high ceiling and expansive walls of the church. Annoyance, that was all.
Sarah weighs its lack of an answer for a moment or two before she sits back. “I think I’m ready to go home,” she decides. Inside, Nick agrees, and Lucifer is left with nothing keeping it here. It goes where they go. Sarah stands, and Lucifer stands with her. A hand at her back is unnecessary at this point in her pregnancy, both because her belly hasn’t grown so huge as to hinder movement and because she’s gotten used to offsetting the weight on her own.
But Nick worries. So Lucifer puts a hand at her back to keep her steady.
Lucifer won’t fly with Sarah. Humans weren’t made for that kind of travel, and definitely not a human carrying a child. (Sarah made it promise to anyway. After the child is born, but one day. It hopes she won’t be disappointed by the dizzying reality of it.) They go by car instead. Lucifer slides control back to Nick. It could, theoretically, drive. It has his experiences and memories to work with. It doesn’t want to.
Sarah reclines her seat and puts her feet up on the dashboard. Nick admonishes her fondly. Lucifer vibrates at the same frequency as the humming of the engine without meaning to before it shakes that off and tunes back to Sarah’s heartbeat. It’s faster now that she’s fully awake but still steady.
There's a much quieter beat below the sound of hers. There's a difference between knowing how humans reproduce and witnessing it. Even now, the baby (their son, Lucifer informed them before the doctors ever could) isn't even a foot long and has only recently begun to move on his own. Despite that, even in his imperfect state, they love him. Sarah has already named him Theodore. Lucifer made a mistake in asking why they would name this one when they haven't yet had another they need to tell the difference between, but it was the kind of mistake that made Nick and Sarah share a quiet, sad look. Lucifer wonders what Michael would make of that. He was named with Lucifer, not before.
Theodore will be safe. Lucifer watches over them all.
Four months until Theodore breathes on his own. Lucifer can't tell them the exact date yet. Sarah says it will be when he's good and ready. Nick put the timing between February and March. He's never said it, but he hopes for February.
Lucifer didn't think it would ever celebrate another human being created.
The garden that greets them when they get home is Lucifer's own attempt at creation. Nick sleeps. Lucifer does not. That gives it a lot of spare time and a lot of silence to fill. Bright yellow evening-primroses grow throughout the yard. Opening the gate disturbs two butterflies sipping from the milkweed. Lucifer reaches out to pet the tails of the indigo bush as they pass.
Sarah goes immediately to the kitchen for a cup of water. Nick follows, and Lucifer comes with him. Nick hugs her from behind, chuckling when he has to readjust to accommodate her belly. Without a moment's pause, Sarah leans back into him. Nick dips his head to nose at her.
"Are you hungry? I can make lunch," Nick asks. Sarah taps his arm once for him to pull back, only enough so that she can set her cup down and turn in his arms. She slides her hand over the back of his neck, the tips of her fingers running through the soft, short hairs there. She presses them firmly down, and Nick bows to kiss her.
Lucifer tries to look away from what isn't meant for it.
Nick breaks the kiss, mouth twinging. Sarah reads his expression.
"She pulled away again," she guesses. It takes Lucifer a moment to realize they're talking about it. Nick nods, sighs, and goes to kiss Sarah again. She stops him, the same firm touch that drew him in pressed against his jaw.
"Dear," he pleads. Then, quieter, "Sarah?"
"I think she deserves to know," Sarah says. What rises in Nick is a confusing mixture of shame and hope, all in orbit around that ever-present warm glow that lives in his soul. Nick lifts a hand to cover Sarah's. He touches her wedding ring.
"This isn't- I love you." He turns his head and kisses her fingers. Sarah smiles. It's half comfort and half sly. She tangles their hands together.
"I know," she says, "so you won't mind sharing." A laugh jumps out of Nick. It startles Lucifer more than it does either of them. Lucifer has lost the thread of the conversation. That's not unusual. Lucifer's learning, through shared memory and its own experiences, but there's a lot intrinsic to humanity that it has nothing to relate to. Sarah tilts her head, like if she looks at Nick from a certain angle, she'll see Lucifer instead. When that doesn't work, she trails her fingers over Nick's cheek again. Lucifer has no choice but to rise to the surface for that, inviting as the sensation is.
When Sarah kisses it, it retreats again. A kiss is different than an accidental affectionate glance in its direction or a casual touch as Sarah passes by when it is guiding the vessel instead of Nick. That's not an intimacy it can let slide off, and Sarah must have meant to kiss Nick, not call for Lucifer and-
She's usually impeccable at telling which of them is in control, is the thing.
Nick looks at Sarah apologetically. She purses her lips and dryly says, "If you have any ideas on how to seduce our devil, I'm open to hearing them."
Our catches Lucifer more off-guard than seduce.
"Maybe we should ask first," he posits. "She did for us."
"You're right. Lucifer?" Nick offers up control, and for the first time, Lucifer hesitates in taking it. "We want to talk. I won't kiss you again, I promise."
"Why did you?" Lucifer asks. Like always, Sarah knows it is the one asking, not Nick.
"You've been with us for months," Sarah answers. Lucifer dreads the way she pauses, leaving the words hanging in the air. They could be an accusation of overstaying. Rejection waits to twist the knife. Any number of things could have been the tipping point, Lucifer's constant presence or its refusal to explain what it was freed onto Earth for or the scars that litter Nick's face and hands. "And we were hoping... We thought you might stay..." Uncertainty is not Sarah's wheelhouse. It's one of the things Nick adores most about her, and something Lucifer has come to admire. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts. "You can stay with us as long as you need. As you want." She takes Nick's, Lucifer's, hand and places it over her heart. Both of their wedding rings glimmer in the sunlight that falls through the kitchen window. "But we were hoping you might stay forever."
Lucifer doesn't know how to respond. It turns to Nick for explanation. If there's something it missed, some strange human custom it isn't understanding- But Nick blankets its grace in anxious reassurance. It's alright, he says. You can answer however you want.
"But the kissing?" There's a small flush on Sarah's cheeks, so subtle that Nick's eyes don't pick up on it, but Lucifer can hear the rush of blood.
"It must be hard not to fall in love with you," Sarah says, "seeing as we both did." Her heart beats-beats-beats under Lucifer's palm. Nick's heart matches her tempo. Lucifer has brought them into sync and echoes the same rhythm back.
It's a lot.
You can kiss her back, Nick adds.
I don't know how, Lucifer whispers back. Nick finds that funny. His soul rolls in Lucifer's grasp.
Then let her lead, he says. You can't be worse than I was. Lucifer glances down at Sarah's lips and meets her eyes again. It does as Nick did, tipping its head forward to meet her. Their noses bump. Sarah places her hands on its face to help, tilting Lucifer's head so that their lips touch easily. This is entirely different to experiencing it from the outside, trying not to interrupt as Sarah and Nick loved each other. Sarah's mouth is warm and soft. Her hands keep Lucifer right where she wants it. It's over too soon.
The reason that question dogs Lucifer more than any other isn't for lack of an answer. It's because Lucifer knows. It wants to still be here. It wants this horrible loneliness to end, and for a brief drop in the ocean of its life, it has been welcomed. It has been, as it brushes the powerful, terrifying, beautiful feeling in Nick's chest, loved. Loved despite imperfection, like the child they're waiting for. Loved as truly and as deeply as it has seen them love each other.
"Are you okay?" Sarah asks. Nick does, too, a thrum of concern from his soul.
"Yes," Lucifer breathes. "Again?"
This time comes with Nick's instruction. He enjoys watching Lucifer kiss his wife, and watching Sarah kiss Lucifer back. Press closer, he says, and try to relax more. She doesn't usually bite. Before Lucifer can ask what that means, one of Sarah's hands slides down its chest. Lucifer is being achingly careful, over-aware of its own strength. Sarah is not someone Nick considers fragile, but she feels like glass to Lucifer. It is even more aware of Theodore when the bump of her belly brushes against it.
Too much. Lucifer breaks the kiss this time. To be shown attention after so long in the dark is like drowning. It can't keep its head above water, and that's scaring it.
You, it says, drawing Nick back to the surface, let me watch you. Nick blinks. Sarah is frowning again.
”Was that okay?”
”I think you’re a little too much for her to handle,” Nick answers, soothing Sarah’s worry and making her eyes glitter with laughter. This time, when Nick kisses her, Lucifer doesn’t hold itself back. It basks in the love they share. It’s as warm as the sunlight that feeds its garden, and it sweeps over Lucifer again and again.
Nick takes Sarah’s hand. Lucifer presses from his palm to hers, as far as the boundary of the vessel will let it.
Here, it will be safe.
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Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandom: Supernatural
Ship: Gen (Lucifer & Raphael)
Additional Tags: Trans Character, Nonbinary Raphael (Supernatural), Trans Lucifer (Supernatural), Sibling Bonding, Shopping, Dresses, Good Older Sibling Lucifer (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Human, Human Lucifer (Supernatural), Human Raphael (Supernatural)
Wordcount: 500
Summary:
Lucifer goes clothes shopping with Raphael.
"Raphael?" Lucifer says. He's leaning back against the door to their dressing room. He's trying to pretend that he doesn't tense every time someone walks past, even if they're clearly only moving on to the next room to try out their own clothes. He won't let anyone ruin this for Raphael. He's willing to make a scene about it, to get thrown out of the store if he needs to. He hadn't spoken to Raphael in almost four years before today, but they are still his little sibling.
He doesn't think Raphael would have called him if they didn't want a guard dog.
"I'm almost done," Raphael says, their voice low and muffled through the door. Lucifer tilts his head. He knows that particular tone of voice.
"Are you stuck?"
Raphael's quiet for a second. "Yes."
"Can I come in?"
"Please." Lucifer looks both ways, but there's no one else around at the moment. He turns as he hears the lock on the door click, and Raphael lets him inside. He sees the problem immediately. The zipper on the back of their dress has snagged in just the wrong place. He puts a hand on their shoulder as he fiddles with it until it slides up, covering up their shoulderblades and that sliver of a scar right at the tip of their spine from when they fell out of a tree as a kid. They'd been trying to steady Gabriel to keep him from tumbling over and gotten knocked off balance themselves. Lucifer could still remember vividly the way his fingertips brushed their little arm as he failed to catch them.
He touches their arm now, briefly. Their skin is softer now than he remembers, and he sometimes can't tell what changes in their face are age alone and which are from their new hormones. "There you go," he says. "How does it feel?" Raphael rolls their head and their hair falls down their back again, covering the zipper. The dress is Lucifer's suggestion, all because he doesn't want Raphael walking out of this store with only shades dark gray or blue. He'd found one in vibrant lavender, and now, they're-
"It's not as scratchy as the last one," Raphael says. "Does it look good?" Lucifer recognizes the tremor of uncertainty because he's heard it in his own voice before.
"Beautiful," he tells them. "You look beautiful." In the mirror, he watches their expression go from surprise to delight to new confidence.
Maybe there's a small part of Lucifer that's jealous. That wishes he didn't have to stand alone years ago and convince himself that he was doing everything right before he stepped out as scared as he walked in.
But there's a larger part that only cares about making sure Raphael never knows what that's like. He doesn't know his sibling as well as he should, and at this point, he's willing to take half the blame for that. But he's done this.
He will be here for them.
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Me clutching my trans!lucifer headcanon when his dad starts calling him the name he chose and tells him he’s proud of the man he’s become: This Is Fine
