Chapter Text
"Are ya sure ya gotta go for a whole week?" Mammon gripes.
He is pouting at you from upside down on your bed, with his head over the edge of your mattress. You turn to give him a sad smile, just in time to catch Satan whack him across the stomach. Mammon protests his brother's attack with a yelp and a scowl.
"Don't make her feel bad for needing to do this," he warns, fixing the second-born with an icy look.
There's an ache in your chest as you add a few more pairs of socks to the small suitcase you're packing and zip it up.
"Besides, she won't be far. It's not like she's going back to the Human Realm," he continues, eyes softening as he looks to you instead.
Mammon sits up and swivels to face you, sitting cross-legged next to Satan as you step towards them. Ignoring the fact that his boots are on your sheets, you perch in Mammon's lap and nestle against his chest. His arms surround you immediately and he breathes you in.
"Sorry, treasure. I just mean that I'm gonna miss ya while ya stay at Purgatory Hall," he says, dropping a kiss to your shoulder.
"I know, babe," you sigh, pulling back to meet his lips with your own. "I just need some timeout to get my shit together."
"We'll do our best to make sure everyone here has their shit together too, before you get back," Satan says, resting a hand on your knee.
You shake your head as you extract yourself from Mammon's hold and straddle the Avatar of Wrath instead. A blush rises to his cheeks and Mammon averts his gaze, coughing into a clenched fist as he stands and steps away. Kissing the corner of Satan's mouth transforms his expression into soft bliss as the surprise of having you straddle him dissipates.
"You guys wouldn't be you if you weren't still chaotic, so don't overdo it," you murmur.
Satan settles his fingers on your hips and leans his forehead against yours.
"Don't worry, that's simply impossible. We're the Avatars of Sin. Chaos may as well be our family name."
You laugh like music. "You're not wrong."
"My angel, if you're planning to have a goodbye romp before your little vacation, it should be with me~" Asmo teases, sauntering into the room with a bulging duffle bag and Beelzebub in tow.
"What the hell is in there?!" Mammon gawks.
You slip off Satan's lap as Asmodeus sets the extra bag down next to your suitcase.
"Just a few selfcare items for while our little minx is away," he sings, sending you a wink. "If the point of the next week is for her to relax and feel better after everything, then she had best do it properly. Solomon knows how to use the special face masks and hair treatments, and he's gotten pretty good at painting nails over the years. Not as good as me, of course, but he has learned from the best."
"That poor man . . ." Levi shakes his head slowly.
He has been so quiet that you almost forgot he has been seated at your desk, watching you pack this entire time. Asmo makes a dismissive hand gesture towards the third-born. He slips lithe arms around you and, to your surprise, lifts you into a spin before setting you back on your feet. With a quick peck on your cheek, he leans back enough to look at your face, but keeps his torso pressed to yours, his hands gently cupping your backside.
"Probably best not to let Luke near that bag though," he says, waggling a perfect eyebrow.
Levi groans, pulling his headphones up over his ears and drawing his knees up to his chest on your desk chair.
"Asmodeus, please tell me you didn't put the pink gel dildo in there," you deadpan.
"No, that's still in the fridge, I saw it a few minutes ago," Beelzebub says through a mouthful of . . . you have no idea what he's eating, but he's enjoying it and it doesn't look pink-gel-dildo flavoured, so that's all that really matters. "I was getting snacks for you to take to Purgatory Hall."
The Avatar of Gluttony hands you a cooler bag. You gawk at the weight before setting it down next to your suitcase and Asmo's bag of selfcare items. When you turn back to the gentle giant, he gives you a serious look.
"Don't let Solomon trick you into eating anything he cooks."
"Thanks, Beelzebub. Don't worry, I won't let Solomon traumatise me further with his biohazardous culinary monstrosities," you joke, though it falls flat.
A pinched expression forms on Beel's brow as he crosses his arms over his stomach. With a sad sigh, you step towards him and gently pry his arms open so that you can hug him. Everything about Beel feels warm and safe: everything, except for his twin. You know that it weighs heavy on him that Belphegor is the reason you're going to live away from them for a week to collect yourself, no matter how understanding and accepting he is of your needs following the events of the past week. One of his hands rests at the back of your head, pressing you to his chest. Beelzebub kisses the top of your head before he pulls away.
"I hope the time away helps," he says.
Your heart wants to break into a million pieces from the notes of guilt and shame he tries to swallow down. With your lips pursed, you bite the tip of your tongue between your teeth until the prickle of tears behind your eyes subsides.
"It will," you answer, mustering as much assurance as you can. "I'll be heaps better when I come home."
Home . . . Yes, the House of Lamentation is still my home. It just feels a bit too shaky right now.
You give Beel's arms a gentle squeeze to signal for him to let go. He takes a moment to inhale, loosening his hold.
"I love you, sweetheart," he says, kissing your lips.
He tastes sweet, even in this chaste, innocent meeting of his mouth against your own. It only lasts a moment before he pulls away properly.
"I love you too," you whisper.
"Let us know what you want for dinner on your first night back," he smiles, stepping towards the door.
He gives you a final soft, apologetic smile over his shoulder before he disappears from view.
He's trying so hard to be strong for me, to not let it show how much this all hurts him. I hope having me out of the house for a week gives Beelzebub a chance to process his own feelings around the past week. I hope it gives all of them a chance to do that.
That thought reminds you that you are not alone in your room. Mammon has busied himself looking at the knickknacks on your bookshelf, something you've noticed he tends to do when he's pretending not to be uncomfortable. Levi has hunched his shoulders as he stares at his D.D.D. screen, but his unfocused gaze gives away that he's not actually playing anything right now. Asmo is leaning quietly against your wardrobe door, both arms stretched up above his head so that the bottom of his shirt lifts to expose the softly toned muscles of his abdomen, but his eyes aren't filled with their usual suggestive mischief.
Satan breaks the lingering silence with an inquisitive look at Asmodeus.
"So, what did you put in that bag that Luke should not be privy to?"
The Avatar of Lust sends his brother a wink. "That's a secret I'll never tell."
--
Goodbyes are not your forte, but reminding yourself that it's only for a week helps. Each of the demons in your room holds you, kisses you, and tells you how much they love you before filing out one by one, with a shared determination to trust that you are doing what is best for you. Mammon is the last to leave, holding you tighter as he tries to keep his shit together.
"Yer comin' back, right, treasure?" he whispers, voice thick with emotion.
You squeeze him until your arms hurt, nodding against the crook of his neck.
"I'll be back before you know it."
Lucifer appears in your doorway like clockwork, silently watching as Mammon wipes the tears from his cheeks and straightens up, feigning composure. The Avatar of Pride steps aside as his little brother leaves the room, and then enters to help you with your bags. The walk to Purgatory Hall is strangely quiet. Lucifer isn't one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but you can sense the tension rolling off him as you move towards the other dorm.
"You okay?" you ask, bumping against him.
A single laugh leaves him, but he doesn't muster his usual dryness.
"I am fine, my love. I know that it is best that you spend time away from the House of Lamentation while the dust settles. However, I feel as if I won't be able to protect you while you are not under my roof." He looks thoughtfully at the footpath ahead. "I know that is a foolish way of looking at it, considering the past week. And I know you will be safe at Purgatory Hall. I may not trust Solomon, but he is a powerful sorcerer and would not harm a fellow human without cause."
You nod your understanding but remain quiet to see if he will continue. When he doesn't, you offer a gentle prompt.
"And Simeon?"
Lucifer's brow knits together at the angel's name.
"I believe he cares for you, my love."
You tilt your head as you listen to what he isn't saying. "But you don't trust him, either."
This time, the single chuff of laughter is dry. It grates on your senses like sandpaper.
"He will keep you safe and help you heal," he says. "But Simeon and I have our own history, which you needn't involve yourself in."
Lucifer gives you a pointed look and his voice is low and serious. It sends a pang of guilt to your stomach. Although you believe that involving yourself in the personal matters within the family has ultimately been a good thing, albeit, traumatising, you understand that it wasn't your place to interfere. And neither is this. You give a curt nod as you approach the front doors of Purgatory Hall, spotting the angel in question sitting on the front steps with a book in his hand. Simeon glances up from the pages at the sound of your footsteps and the wheeling of your suitcase behind you.
"Welcome," he smiles, tucking the book beneath his arm as he rises. "Lucifer, won't you come inside for a cup of tea?"
"No," he Avatar of Pride says firmly. "I have other matters to attend to this afternoon."
"Another time then," Simeon concedes, but not before you notice the subtle slumping of his shoulders at the rejection. "I'll give you two a moment. Let me take those bags inside."
He gestures to the two bags Lucifer had insisted on carrying across from the House of Lamentation: the cooler bag full of snacks from Beelzebub, and a pink duffle bag filled with selfcare items (and potentially sex toys) that Asmodeus had provided. Once acquired, Simeon gives you both a warm smile and disappears into the dorm, leaving the door open for you to follow when you're ready. You can smell the warmth of scones and biscuits emanating from within. It's already coaxing the tension away from your body, slowly but surely. Yes, this time away from the House of Lamentation is a good idea.
Lucifer slips the length of his index finger beneath your chin, letting his thumb rest on your cheek as he turns your face towards him again. You meet his gaze, the dark and brooding onyx flecked with crimson allowing you to peek at all the vulnerabilities he masks so well.
"If you need us, my love, you know we are only a phone call away," he says. "If you wish to return to us sooner, or if you wish to stay here longer, you need only let us know."
You nod your understanding and lean up on your toes to meet his lips. Lucifer kisses you gently, then lowers his hand from your chin as he steps back.
"Thank you, Lu. I love you," you murmur.
"As I love you, my love."
With a final kiss pressed to your forehead, he turns away from Purgatory Hall. You lift your small suitcase up the steps and turn to his retreating form again once you've crossed the threshold. As Lucifer reaches the main path, he pauses and looks back towards the House of Lamentation, and then towards the Demon Lord's Castle before he turns to face you. You glance towards the Demon Lord's Castle for a moment too. You know he isn't asking for your permission; that isn't Lucifer's way, and this isn't about you. You've already encouraged him to speak to Diavolo about their relationship if that is what he wishes to do. Regardless, you still feel your own complicated feelings towards the prince and his butler well inside your stomach. With a deep breath, you close the door behind you; his decision will be his own, and you needn't bear witness.
--
You take a moment to breathe in the privacy of your new room. You didn't expect to actively miss the weird tree that grows in your space in the House of Lamentation, but here you are, longing for it's spindly branches and sparse leaves. But there's a soothing warmth here, which lingers in the air. That's something you don't get at the House of Lamentation unless you are in a lover's arms. The space smells different, too. You're already used to food aromas wafting and lingering in your room because it is right next to the kitchen, but this room isn't. Still, whatever Luke is baking is filled with sweet warmth and it continues to melt away the vast tension that grips you.
Simeon has left the bags from Beelzebub and Asmodeus on the writing desk, and you decide to tuck your suitcase between the side of the desk and the wall, to be unpacked later. For now, you decide to go and find the angels and the sorcerer. You make your way down the corridor to the kitchen, where you find Simeon continuing to read his book, seated on one of the high stools at the prep table. Before you can register anything else, you're tackled by a smaller angel and you can't help the sound of delighted surprise that bubbles out of you as Luke squeezes you in a hug. You look down at the top of Luke's hat as he exclaims your name with indignant relief.
"I knew those demons couldn't be trusted!"
Your heart freezes in your chest for a moment as you gingerly pat his back, eyes darting to Simeon as the older angel sets down his book and stands up with a gentle smile. He had asked prior to your arrival for permission to give Luke a watered-down version of the events that transpired at the House of Lamentation over the past week, but you'll need to ask him exactly what Luke knows.
"But don't worry! You can stay with us for as long as you like," Luke says, stepping back so that he can look up and meet your gaze.
The small angel's face is set with wide-eyed determination, tiny fists balled at shoulder height as he pouts up at you. Despite your concern about what he may or may not know, you can't help the appreciative smile that forms across your lips.
"Thanks, Luke. I know you guys will take good care of me," you say. "What are you making in here? It smells amazing."
The furrow in his brow vanishes as soon as you ask about the baking. He races back towards the kitchen counter and pulls a tea towel from over the top of a batch of freshly baked scones on a cooling rack.
"They're still warm! And I made jam to go with them yesterday with Simeon's help. All I need to do is whip the cream and then afternoon tea will be ready," he explains, eyes alight with excitement.
Your smile widens into a grin as you watch him zoom across to the fridge and pull out the cream. Laughter bubbles from your chest and you can feel your shoulders relaxing further, the twinge as the tension releases a testament to how on edge you were at home. That realisation makes your heart ache, but you push the feeling aside. For the moment, you want to enjoy this moment of sanctuary and pretend like nothing is wrong.
"Sounds great, Luke! What can I do to help?"
--
Luke allows you to assist with neither afternoon tea, dinner, nor dessert. You spend your first day at Purgatory Hall having the idea that he, Simeon, and Solomon will take care of you drilled into you. The only thing Luke wants you to do is relax. Simeon quietly nods each time Luke repeats this little mantra, reinforcing the idea while he tactfully prevents Solomon from trying to assist with any of the cooking. Their combined enthusiasm for looking after you while you are staying with them warms your heart, but you can't help the feeling of guilt that creeps in beneath it all.
When the cooking is complete and your stomach is well and truly full, Luke and Simeon finally allow Solomon to enter the kitchen, suggesting that he can help by washing the dishes. You hide your knowing chuckle behind your hand as you follow the angels into the common room, where you're pulled onto the couch between them to watch DevilTube videos on the TV. You let Luke pick the videos to watch, and listen as he laughs and gets excited, unbothered by what you might think of his enthusiasm. It reminds you of Leviathan's fanboy behaviour, though the little angel is nowhere near as intense as your otaku. You wish you could cuddle up next to Levi and kiss his cheek and watch him blush as you wish him goodnight . . . You wish you could say a proper goodnight to each of your lovers back at the House of Lamentation and fall asleep in their arms. Longing fills your heart before you remember that Belphegor will be present when you return.
No, don't think of him right now.
Luke quotes a line from the video with a funny voice and giggles to himself. The young angel's merriment is cut off by a yawn, which he stifles with a small hand. You beam at the precious little thing as he leans against you, his hat shifting to sit askew atop his blond locks of hair. Simeon's gentle laughter rings quietly in your ear on the opposite side. You smile thankfully at him as he pulls an arm around your shoulders, allowing you to find comfort in the warmth of his closeness. Watching Luke begin to settle down makes you aware of the heavy feeling in your own eyes. With a deep sigh, you rest your head against Simeon's shoulder. A new DevilTube video begins to play, but you're not really taking it in. Your eyes begin to droop while Simeon's gloved fingers trace slow paths down from your shoulder and back up.
By the time Solomon emerges from the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his fingers wrinkly from dishwater, Luke is fast asleep with his head on your lap. You don't realise that you've been absentmindedly playing with the tassel attached to his hat until Solomon crouches in front of the couch and silently takes it from you, folding it in half to tuck against the sleeping angel.
"I'll put this one to bed," he whispers as Simeon turns off the television.
"He's all tuckered out," the older angel chuckles quietly.
Solomon is careful as he lifts the little angel into his arms, letting his head rest against his collarbone. Luke instinctively curls towards the sorcerer, clutching at the front of his shirt. You watch Solomon carry the young angel off as if he has done it a thousand times before, and the fact that he probably has hits you with a blunt force you weren't expecting.
"Solomon looks like a father when he does that sort of thing," you say quietly.
Simeon gives a thoughtful hum as the two of you shift forward and stand from the couch. He doesn't remove his arm from around you, and you don't pull away from the warmth of his torso as you tilt your head up to peer at his face. A sadness forms in the angel's eyes as he considers your statement.
"I think being around Luke reminds him of what it was like. He misses them."
"His children?"
Simeon nods once. "But it also reminds him that he's lived to watch them all pass on."
The blunt force of your initial realisation spreads into your heavy, tired limbs. You press your cheek to Simeon's shoulder while you process this new perspective of the sorcerer, only to be interrupted by a wide yawn of your own. Simeon laughs quietly, resting his head atop your own.
"I think it's time for you to sleep too, my dear," he says, rubbing his hand up and down the top of your arm to bring you back to alertness.
"I think you may be right," you agree, knuckling at your eyes. "But now that Luke is asleep, I want to know what you told him about what happened."
Simeon presses a finger to his lips. Taking you by the hand, he leads you to his room and closes the door. He leads you to sit beside him on the edge of his bed, gently squeezing your hand.
"Solomon and I had to sit down and plan what we would and wouldn't tell him. We've told Luke that Belphegor has returned from his exchange in the Human Realm because without his brothers around he kept sleeping through classes and extra curricular, which defeats the purpose. And we told him that when Belphegor arrived home, he'd been hostile towards you, which made you uncomfortable. We told him that you're staying with us while Belphegor settles in at the house again to help take the edge off the tension."
You nod along with his explanation, relieved that none of the unpleasant details were included.
"Anything else?"
"He doesn't know that you were physically harmed in any way," Simeon says. "And we didn't mention the family matters that came up. Or your relationships outside of the House of Lamentation."
You give a little sigh, holding yourself.
"Are you okay, little lamb? You've got goosebumps."
You look down at your arms to confirm this. There's a tremble inside you. You're thinking about the reasons you can't be home with your lovers: the real reasons. And the fear that those reasons will never resolve begins to well up inside you without your lovers there to soothe and reassure you.
"What if I can never stay there without feeling like I'm about to die?" you choke, tears prickling at your eyes.
This time they spring forth. You hold yourself tightly as Simeon pulls you against him again, gently shushing you while he strokes your hair and your back.
"My dear, I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but it will get better."
You press yourself against him as tightly as you can and try to smother the ragged sobs that erupt from your chest.
"But until it does, little lamb, we are here for you. Until it does, push the what ifs away. Right now, what matters is that you are safe. Let yourself feel safe here. I won't let anything hurt you."
You gasp in air and exhale heavily until your breathing calms again, and you become aware that Simeon is humming to you. It's the same tune he hummed while you were in the shower and he was waiting for you in your room, after the first night he'd stayed with you at the House of Lamentation. The memory of your grandmother and your mother humming the same tune to you when you were a child adds to the soothing effect, like a weighted blanket for your soul. With a small wave of Simeon's hand, the bedroom light switches off and he guides you to lay down in his bed. He helps you get comfortable and keeps you in his arms.
"Would you like my wings around you tonight?" he asks as you press yourself close in the dark.
"Is that okay?" you ask.
His gentle laugh is like a nightlight. You feel the ripple of Celestial magic encompass you, the soft glow of his wings and halos like kind ghosts. The rustle of feathers reminds you of Lucifer, but Simeon holds you with a different kind of tenderness. You wish Lucifer were holding you, but you also wish that Simeon never stops holding you. A feeling of complete peace encases your soul and strong wings cradle your body against the angel. You sleep deep and dreamless in Simeon's arms.
--
Bang-bang-bang!
"Breakfast!"
You're startled out of sleep by Luke's voice and his small fist against the door. Simeon stretching his arms up over his head as he shifts effortlessly out of his angel form helps your heartrate slow, though you feel cold without his wings around you and nestle against him with a whine of protest.
"Ah, sorry, I should have warned you so you could burrow beneath the blanket first," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep.
"It's okay," you giggle.
With an ear against his chest, you can hear the strong and steady heartbeat behind his ribs. You focus on that, listening to Luke knock and announce breakfast on Solomon's bedroom door too, and then on the door to your new room, unaware that you had not slept there within. A deep intake of breath makes Simeon's chest rise noticeably beneath you and he exhales with a happy hum.
"I can smell pancakes," he announces.
You can smell them too, you realise, and your stomach immediately growls in anticipation, causing the angel to laugh as he shifts out from beneath you. Chocolate locks of hair bounce around his face as he sits up and turns to look at you. His smile is warm and disarming. You want to pull him back down to you and have him hold you again. You aren't ready to leave the sanctuary of his wings, his arms, his bed. But your stomach has other plans.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Simeon stretches his arms up over his head again, arching his back gently. You find yourself staring at the muscle definition along the backs of his shoulders and his spine, exposed by the low-cut back of the sleeveless shirt he favours. Looking away with warm cheeks, you sit up and straighten your own clothes, the sweet and buttery aromas from the kitchen encouraging you to leave Simeon's room. The angel holds the door open for you and follows a few steps behind as you both pad barefoot to the dining room, where you can hear the tell-tale clink of cutlery being lain out on a table.
"Luke, you've set an extra place at the table," a familiar deep and velvety voice states as you step into the dining room.
You freeze in the doorway, the smell of pancakes forgotten as your stomach summersaults into your throat.
"Oh! I forgot to tell you! We have a guest! That's why I wanted to make so many pancakes," Luke beams.
A step behind you, Simeon gasps as he realises who is setting the table with Luke. The small sound draws their attention to the doorway—to you—and while the little angel smiles happily, Barbatos's expression mirrors your own: eyes wide and brow creased with the shock of finding you here.