Chapter Text
The tumbled mass of bedsheets and limbs groaned deeply as an unpleasantly bright morning light could no longer be ignored. Lucifer rubbed at his temples, his head heavy with dehydration and pain. He realised he was still semi dressed, his clothes and hair utter shambles, and he grimaced that his usual prim façade was so far gone. The memories of the previous night slowly returning certainly didn’t help to ease the bruising of his precious pride either.
An evening with Diavolo…bottles of demonus… who came up with the idea to see who could down their bottles first?
“Eugh…” he winced, remembering it was actually his own idea.
With a heavy sigh a hand and raven-haired head peaked from the Egyptian cotton mountain and reached for the bottle of water drunk-Lucifer had kindly left on the nightstand the night before. Chugging it down with the grace of parched Cereberus’ heads sharing one bowl, his other hand dug around blindly to find his DDD buried amongst the bedclothes. Finally, phone in hand and empty bottle tossed in an unusually haphazardly way, he retreated back into his dark-purple fabric cave.
I’ve got a terrible headache so i don’t want any of you causing any trouble for me.
He slowly typed out, strained vision and weak fingers making countless mistakes, but he ensured all was correct before hitting send to the House of Lamentation group chat. He’d be damned if he gave them any indication this was anything more than the standard stress migraine he usually got.
Asmo and Mammon had the kind of remarks Lucifer had fully expected - Asmo in particular was ready to drop everything and play nurse. All normal, all expected, but the reply from MC shook him.
Are you hung over?
Did they know? But….no. It must be a lucky guess, a teasing comment that just happened to hit the nail on the head by pure chance.
But then again…
If they did know, then how did they know? How could they possibly know? Lucifer wasn’t generally regarded as a regular drinker let alone someone who’d drink enough to get a hangover.
Gulping he sat up straight, the sudden yet tiny change of altitude causing of shock of pain, but it didn’t slow his hurried thumbs on his phone, scrolling and tapping through his phone messages. Did he message them? Oh lords, did he message THEM of all people? The one person his heart hid secrets from that a drunk tongue would be dying to tell?
There it was. A direct conversation with MC…
He’d sent an emoji! That’s…embarrassing. But a survivable embarrassment. Yet there was more…
He scrolled down, skim reading. His admission that he and Diavolo had been taking about how great MC was, how happy he was MC was down here …and his final words before falling asleep.
Good night MC.
Love you.
And next to it, in mocking tiny grey and white pixels, the ‘read’ tick.
And…end. No reply. They’d read it, that was for sure. But didn’t reply.
A wave of nausea spread over his body and he lurched out of bed, sheets falling to the floor as he ran towards his bathroom. He felt like his organs were trying to escape his body and after minutes of agonising dry heaving on an empty stomach, he lay down on the cold tile of the floor.
What to do…he paused, refusing to acknowledge the tightness of his chest. What to do…
Making a snap decision he carefully climbed to his feet and unsteadily made his way to his desk, grabbing his DDD on the way.
I’ll text them…no. No too impersonal. I’ll write and apologise and say this was all a mistake and…
He paused again. …and lie? Pretend it isn’t true? Continue this…unbecoming charade of not caring about the pact they had made to be his? How much it meant to him?
This was his chance to have it all laid bare, to stop this disgusting simpering hold they had, to regain control. Or was he still drunk? Was the dehydration affecting his reasoning? He didn’t care anymore. Elegant fountain pen in hand he began his missive.
To…my most darling MC…
4 pages, the briefest of hot shower, and a change of clothes later, Lucifer fell back onto the bed and into a deep sleep.