Sonde's Big Book of Angst

Lucifer I-VIII

"Should've gotten life right the first time." + Lucifer

TW: Drinking, implied alcoholism

There are three empty bottles of Demonus on Lucifer's desk, and yet he is not drunk.

Scratch that, he is a little drunk. Just enough for his usual frigid demeanor to fade, just enough for his words to begin to slur.

But it is not enough to make Lucifer forget the burden that weighs down on his shoulders.

It is never enough.

"What'ya want?" Lucifer snaps when he sees his door open, irritation seeping in. He doesn't bother hiding the bottles, doesn't bother hiding the tipsiness of his voice.

Only one person ever visits him this late at night. And they've seen Lucifer like this more than enough times.

"Hey, I—you're drinking again?" Mammon growls in irritation when he sees the bottles lined up on Lucifer's desk. "I told ya to quit that shit. Ya shouldn't need me to remind you."

"Shouldn't do a lot of things," Lucifer drawls, waving his hands aimlessly. "Like forget to tell you I love you. 'Cause I love you, Mammon, d'you know that?"

The second-born doesn't blush at his brother's confession, doesn't get flustered at the big revelation. Just purses his lips and frowns, because he knows that if Lucifer is tipsy enough to genuinely think Mammon doesn't already know how much his big brother loves him, then he's had way more than the three bottles on his desk.

The second-born would scold his brother if not for the fact that he knows this is a miserable day for Lucifer.

After all, today marks the ten thousandth year since they were banished from their home.

"Shouldn't've sold my soul to Diavolo," Lucifer continues to slur out, tossing a glare to a pile of paperwork. "Should've kept that piece of m'self. Or maybe made you do it. You've always been good with...responsibilities. And you're more fun. Diavolo might have liked you better."

Mammon remains silent.

"No, wait." Lucifer groans, reaching for a fourth bottle that had been hidden underneath his desk. "Then you'd feel like this. Wouldn't want you to feel like this, Mammonie."

The Avatar of Greed feels his heart soften the moment the familiar nickname spills from Lucifer's lips.

"Let's get ya to bed," He finally whispers, stepping around Lucifer's desk and nudging the firstborn out of his chair. "Ya gonna regret this tomorrow morning."

"Regret a lot of things," Lucifer continues, letting Mammon carry the brunt of his weight as he shoulders him off to bed. "Like the War. Shouldn't've pulled you all into my war. Shouldn't've cursed you all with me."

"Go to bed, Lucifer." Mammon doesn't bother helping his brother dress for bed, opting instead to leave him with a glass of water. "And stop thinking so damn much."

"Wanna stop thinking. It's why I was drinking."

"Ya shouldn't've been thinking so much in the first place."

"Should've done a lot of things. Should've gotten life right the first time. Should've kept you all safe. Shouldn't've killed Lilith, should've—"

Mammon cuts his brother off with a hand to the throat, blue eyes meeting red in a storm of regret and fire.

"Ya didn't kill Lilith," Mammon grunts, his teeth clenching. It's bad enough to see the single person he respects more than anyone else in such a miserable state—but for all the pathetic things he'll hear from Lucifer when the firstborn gets drunk, lies are one thing Mammon will not tolerate. "Ya didn't kill Lilith, and ya didn't ruin our lives with the War. So go to goddamn sleep and go back to being a snippy asshole in the morning."

Lucifer can only nod vaguely when presented with so many words so fast. Can only stare at his little brother with slightly confused eyes as the Avatar of Greed tucks him under the covers and turns the lights off, grumbling to himself the whole time as he leaves the room.

But when he's gone, Lucifer goes straight back to his hellhole of regret and misery. He shifts his position on the bed, reaching his arm lower to find the familiar bottle of Demonus he keeps stored underneath—and feels relief when his fingers find the neck of the bottle, feels relief when he finally takes another sip of the happiness juice.

For the few seconds after he takes his first swig, he can almost pretend that he believes Mammon's words, that he believes that his siblings might not hate him for what he's turned their lives into.

Only for a few a few seconds, though.

It's why Lucifer will always go back for a second sip.