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“All this time? And you didn't tell me?” Her arms were crossed, trying to squeeze together her rapidly exploding worldview.
“My dear girl, if you'll recall, I told you just last week. And the week before that, and the day before -” His nonchalant smirk was not reflected in his eyes, which remained steadily averted.
“Yes, and me saying you aren't the devil to me was a clear indicator that I thought it was a metaphor,” she huffed, cutting in. “You could have proven it at any time.”
“Oh, yes, because that's gone so well,” he snapped, “Is it really so hard to believe that I wanted one person not to reject me as the embodiment of evil, as hell incarnate. I wanted to keep our - what we have pure and untainted by what I am.”
The fight was ebbing out of her, but she pressed on in spite of the defeated set of his shoulders. “I wouldn't have done that and you know it. You know my views on religion and God. Hell, you even read my dissertation on Paradise Lost.”
“That was a boost to the ego, rather,” he muttered, and she smiled in spite of herself.
He sighed heavily. “It wasn't about whether you'd consider my position versus God's, I know you to be reasonable and fair, not one to prejudge,” he said as he turned away from her, resting both hands on the wooden bench in front of them. “I didn't prove it to you because how would you want me once you knew? How could you see me as anything but a monster? You'd never love me. I thought maybe to hold off until you knew me better, to be honest once I'd secured your affections, but by then I was so smitten, so needy, so wanting,” his knuckles clenched white and the wood creaked, “that there was too much at stake, too big of a risk, too much to lose, too -”
“Lucifer,” she cut in, placing a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to face her, “Lu, hey… hush, with that. When I said you were not the devil to me, clearly I stand corrected in the literal sense, but the spirit of what I said, that stands.” He ducked his head, but she stepped closer, to look up at his face, green eyes meeting brown. “You are not a bad person, you're not evil. You're not a saint, and I wouldn't ask you to be one, but you are not a monster. I have never seen you that way and I never will.” She took a deep breath. “I love you, Luci.”
She stretched up and kissed him gently, reassuringly, a simple peck on his lips, and was met with nothing at first, a wall of stillness and restraint, but with a soft sigh that might almost have been a moan, he snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her in until she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She could feel the firm lines of his jaw resting on her hair, tucked into him as she was.
She giggled suddenly as she looked up at him, causing Lucifer to raise one of his dark brows.
“Oh, it's nothing,” she said, “Just that, you know, you're actually Lucifer, the archangel, the prince of darkness, Lucifer the great and terrible, and I'm over here calling you Luci and ruffling your hair, I've tickled you and flicked frosting at you. We've cuddled in a blanket fort. It's almost...irreverent, blasphemous.”
“Ah,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss her forehead, “I like it when you do that.” He grinned slyly, “On the other hand, that makes you quite the little sinner, don't you think? In need of punishment, hmm?”
“Luci, what -,” she was cut off by a playful growl as Lucifer swept her up into his arms.