applesaucedream | kiss me like you mean goodbye, said the spider to the fly [closed]

Lucifer has walked through many dreams even before he came to Manhattan; Sam's and Nick's, all the way back to Cain and Abel's. He has mastered the subtle art of insinuating himself gently into them, of wrapping himself up in other's images to speak with them in forms they are comfortable with. Today, he wears Gabriel's, or at least Gabriel's vessel. He mimicks his casual gait, the expressiveness of his face.

He has his hands in his pockets as Johnny gets closer and rocks back on his heels. He smiles his brother's crooked smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Hey there, kiddo." He cocks his head, birdlike, and looks around at the formless void they're standing in. "Can't say I like what you've done with the place. You wanna blow this popsicle stand?"

Edited 2014-12-07 22:35 (UTC)

Johnny's not sure what to make of it - how casually he's shown up, how easily Gabe found him. How simple it all is. But of course it's simple. He's a fucking archangel. He can do anything.

He smiles softer, more genuine, and picks himself up. "Yeah," he says. "All right."

Does he not want to ask about it? Maybe he doesn't need to. Maybe he considers it a large part of an unhappy past, not worth dwelling on, not anymore. Johnny can appreciate that.

He reaches out for Gabe's hand. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Gabe" takes the hand that's offered to him, his grip warm and firm. He can see the moment when Johnny relaxes, when the familiarity of the form he wears and the safety it represents comforts him more than this dreamscape frightens him. Gabriel, Gabriel, how far his little brother has fallen; first from tainting himself with pagan rites and pagan lovers, now further degradation with this little human pet. This little limited hairless ape, who can't even begin to understand the smallest fraction of what and who is brother is. He can't even see Gabriel's real face because the glory of him would destroy him.

He does not understand. Lucifer does not understand why Gabriel would waste his time with something so fragile and ephemeral and broken as this human.

He wiggles his eyebrows in Gabriel's conspiratory fashion.

"What, and ruin the surprise?"

There is the sound of wing beats and the void gets left behind, replaced suddenly-- jarringly-- with a wide, busy street lit up with street signs and neon lights. The air is warm and heavy and sweet, and there is the distant sound of loud music from the buildings that line the way.

Johnny's expression shifts minutely at Gabe's response. It doesn't feel right, something about it feels - too easy, too light. Gabe hasn't been this way with him in a long time. The moment of doubt is easily erased in the sudden cacophony of a foreign cityscape, startling him into clutching Gabe's hand tighter and pulling himself closer. Well, that's one way to shake him out of the house's oppressive atmosphere.

"Jesus," he murmurs. "Where the fuck is this?" He nods toward one of the apparent nightclubs nearby. "We going to a party?"

Gabriel loves a party, loves the riotousness of human revelry-- losing himself in it, Lucifer thinks, just as another way of putting his head in the sand. Burying himself in humanity to hide the brightness of his divinity, dulling himself with a patina of pagan worship and mortal vice. In many ways, Lucifer cannot help but pity his little brother for how deep he's had to go, for how much he's demeaned himself.

By the end, it seemed like he's wanted it. Wanted the degradation of these humans and pagans.

"It's Bangalore, Johnny-boy," he says and allows him to come in close. "There's always a party to go to."

He pulls a lollipop out of thin air and pops it in his mouth, the stick poking out at a jaunty angle.

"I know a good place. C'mon, you'll like it."

He starts down the street, giving a little tug on Johnny's hand to move him along.

Johnny follows him easily, allowing himself to be led. A party would be nice, he thinks. He could use some noise and distraction. Something's still tugging at him, though, a sense that things are off somehow. Gabe seems sort of manic, wanting to get from point A to B as fast as possible without any conversation. That's not unheard of. Johnny's seen it before. It does make him a little concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, quickening his pace a bit to walk beside him.

"I'm good," he says, tugging Johnny close enough so that they're walking hip-to-hip. He lets go of his hand to put it low on Johnny's back, mimicking the casual intimacy of lovers. He's seen this kind of easy contact before, in Nick's memories of the time before his wife was killed, after years of marriage and togetherness. And he had seen the hole left by the lack of it when she was gone, the terrible aching wound of it left on his mind that had once been a place marked Sarah.

Humans are strange little creatures.

"Relax a little, okay? We're here for a good time." He reaches over and gives Johnny's nose a little playful tweak, teasing him. "You're gonna give yourself wrinkles if you keep frowning like that."

Well, that was an obvious lie, and it only makes Johnny more concerned, but he lets it drop for now. If Gabe wants to have a good time, then they can have a good time. He shifts his arm around Gabe's waist, enjoying the comfort of proximity, trying to let it overpower the lingering uneasiness he feels.

Gabe leads him into a club, effortlessly passing the bouncers, of course - Johnny wouldn't have expected anything different from him, especially not in dream. The club is a wash of dim, colorful lighting and a mess of bodies - a charged atmosphere, everything hot and close. Overpoweringly loud music.

"What now?" he asks, raising his voice over the noise, smiling playfully.

"You want something to drink?"

That's what he asks, but there's more going on than Johnny is aware of. Lucifer doesn't go into dreams just on a whim-- there is a purpose to everything, always. The purpose here is understanding and, in a manner that Gabriel should have appreicated, lessons to be taught. Little Johnny is trifling with beings that he doesn't understand, with an archangel-turned-pagan-turned-trickster, and he should see just what he's gotten himself into. Just what Gabriel is when he's not all candy-sweet loverboy.

He and Gabriel both are Heaven's most terrifying weapon. They are cruel and, most of all, they are not human.

Lucifer steers Johnny in the direction of the bar, and not too far away from them is a man, who wouldn't at all be remarkable except that he's foreign and dresses like he has wealth to burn and is surrounded by pretty women hanging off of him. A perfect target, really, for trickster-brand justice.

"Yeah." Johnny follows him to the bar, glancing around at all the people on the dancefloor and mingling around at their respective tables. He kind of hopes Gabe isn't going to try to get him to dance. He'd rather hole up in a booth and make out for a while.

He leans over the bar and orders whiskey for himself and the traditional appletini for Gabriel. He lowers himself back down and looks up at Gabe, smiling faintly. He has to stand on his toes to speak against his ear, to he can be heard over the din: "Thanks for getting me out of there," he says. They sort of glossed right over that, didn't they? That was kind of important.

"Gabe" has other plans that involve dancing-- to an extent-- but not by Johnny. He ditches the half-eaten prop of a lollipop in someone's drink, bored with it and unwilling to waste the energy in getting rid of it.

Johnny's breath is warm against his cheek and ear when he speaks, and Lucifer tilts his face toward him, giving him his attention. He slides a hand onto Johnny's hip and rubs his thumb over the firm ridge of the bone, possessive little touches as though the boy is his. As though he would want this flesh and blood.

Their faces are close, barely inches apart.

"Anytime," he says, low and gently teasing. "But I wouldn't say no to a little reward for saving the princess."

Johnny laughs at the line and gives him a playful shove, though he doesn't pull back. The hand on his hip more or less keeps him in place, and he feels a sort of nervous flutter at that, part arousal and part - something else, a generalized, sourceless anxiety. Something's still wrong, an itch at the back of his mind. It must be lingering unease from being in the house, the kind of dread that sticks with him even once the danger is gone. It'll wear off eventually, if he just allows Gabe to distract him.

Doggedly, he grins and presses in against Gabriel, kissing him briefly on the lips. It's a little more chaste than usual, a product of his hesitant uncertainty, no doubt, but he stays close, smiling and trying to force himself to relax. It'll be fine, Johnny. Everything's fine.

He's smiling when Johnny kisses him, amused at his little shove and mock-offense at calling him the damsel to be rescued, and it's soft and chaste and sweet. Lucifer continues to stroke over his hipbone with his thumb, like petting a cat; he's used to these little gestures from Gabriel, it seems. How well his little brother plays at being a human lover!

Gabriel is too good an actor for his own good sometimes, it seems. He's left it up to Lucifer to educate his pet about him.

While their drinks are being served up, a pretty little thing pushes her way around them, towards the rich man who's throwing money around and buying up bottles for the ladies on his arms. When she speaks to him, having to yell over the din, her voice is full of hurt, indignant anger and he is impassive. He dismisses her, tells her that she should have known what she was getting into from the start, that he made no promises. She slaps him, and by the time their little altercation is over, she is in tears and he-- goes back to his drinks and his women and laughs away the sting of her hand.

"Gabe" watches the incident to its conclusion, head cocked slightly with that birdlike expression.

Edited 2014-12-16 23:35 (UTC)

Johnny lowers himself back down and rests his head briefly against Gabe's shoulder, though he quickly becomes distracted by the event happening next to them. He turns to look, alarmed and vaguely uncomfortable. He should do something, right? Someone should do something. If he were home, and drunk, he'd probably involve himself, throw a punch, take one, and wind up going home with the wronged and emotionally fragile party, thinking he was doing the right thing and knowing, deeper down, that he was only taking advantage of that fragility, and the night would progress and then the morning would be the end of it, with him having learned and accomplished nothing. Now, though, he just feels kind of angry at everything the rich asshole represents, and he feels like he wants to do something stupid without the endgame being a one night stand.

Weird how richly populated this dream is. People leading realistic lives around him. He wonders if it's just reconstituted anxiety for the way he used to be. Probably that. The prospect embarrasses him, and as the unhappy woman departs he turns inward toward Gabe, who, curiously, is watching the interaction as though it were happening on TV.

"Jesus," he says, nervous tension coming out as slightly forced levity. "What a prick."

"You said it, kiddo," he replies, and takes his drink when it comes.

Here is his learning opportunity. It's nothing for him to make little changes, little pushes of power to mold the dream how he wants it and take it where he wants it to go. Johnny needs to see this, needs to see what trickster means, what Gabriel devoted centuries of his life to.

He needs to see what justice looks like to an archangel-turned-pagan.

The girls tug on the rich man's arms, lovely and sweet and laughing, and he follows their pulling out onto the dance floor. "Gabriel" watches them, less like it's a TV show now and more like a predator waiting for its prey to step close enough, and takes a sip of the alcohol. The dancing starts off coy and teasing but doesn't stay there, gets faster and wilder and more frenzied with every passing minute. The women are wild things and the man looks like he can't believe his luck, like he's going to leave this club and have the night of his life.

He's right, but not in the way he wants to be.

There's a moment when he realizes that the hands on him are getting too rough, that the women's lovely lacquered nails are gripping him too tight. "Gabriel" smiles, just a little crooked quirk of his lips, because the expression on his victim's face is what every trickster lives for.

"Hey, Johnny-boy," he says, and they're close enough that he doesn't have to raise his voice much, " have you ever heard of Sparagmos?"

The screaming can be heard even over the pounding music.

All the petnames and the teasing is starting to get under Johnny's skin. Gabe is never this jokey with him, not for such a long stretch of time. When he says 'kiddo' it's softly and with affection, not ... whatever this is. Johnny pulls away from him and turns to the bar, polishing off his drink in a single go. He should say something. Get Gabe to talk about what's going on, because something is obviously going on.

He turns back and stands close again, wanting to ask if they can go somewhere more private, and Gabe puts his arm back around him, and before Johnny can say anything he realizes something is happening on the floor.

The same asshole is now dancing, surrounded by women, and there's something really, really wrong about it, Johnny feels that hard certainty in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he feels scared, and it's only a moment before the mood in the room shifts to something violent and aggressive. It happened so fluidly it doesn't seem to make sense, like it can't really be happening, but Johnny's watching it happen. The women are - they're tearing him apart.

He can't even follow Gabe's question, it sounds like nonsense, completely irrelevant to what they're witnessing.

"What the fuck is happening?" he cries shrilly. He feels like he's going to be sick. "Oh god, oh-"

No, no, FUCK this. He has to get out of here right the fuck now. He can't waste time wondering what the hell is wrong with Gabe - if it even is Gabe, fuck - he has to go. He the way out is blocked by the seething mass of people, so he turns, opening a gap in the wall, meaning to run through it, wherever it leads.

The gap closes, sharp like a door slamming, and "Gabe" grabs Johnny by the wrist, keeping him from going any further. He draws him back with a grip that cannot be resisted-- archangelic strength-- slides an arm around his waist and pulls him flush. The maenads are still dancing, still reveling, still rending this poor Orpheus to pieces with nothing but the combined strength of female hands.

"Gabriel" is laughing, mirthful and cruel, like this is all just good fun.

"Hey now," he says, "what's the matter? That guy was a prick, you said it yourself."

His hands on Johnny are immovable, and he leans over, close enough that their noses are practically touching, head tilted just a little like he's the lead in a romance flick and Johnny is the girl he's sweeping off her feet.

"He's just getting what he deserved. Just deserts."

Edited 2014-12-17 00:38 (UTC)

Johnny's eyes widen when his exit vanishes, and before he can protest or try to recreate it Gabriel's hand is on his arm, drawing him back. Johnny gasps sharply when he's spun around and pulled in close, held inescapably tight. His hands end up planted on Gabriel's chest, pushing and struggling uselessly against him, his entire body on fire with panic and adrenaline.

"Stop it!" he begs, desperate, terrified, barely able to hear himself over the screams. "Let me go, please - wh- why are you doing this?!"

The impostor, for it can't be Gabriel, never was, and he was too stupid and complacent to put it together, looms much too close, looking at him with horrible false tenderness, discordant on Gabriel's familiar features. Johnny looks away, squeezing his eyes shut against the that look and the nearby savagery, trying to shut all of it out.

The body holding Johnny close changes, becomes taller and denser; while his eyes are closed, Lucifer drops the disguise. It's about time to end the little charade, anyway, and get to the teaching part of this lesson. There's a lesson here that Johnny needs to figure out, and he's just starting to see the edges of it.

"But Johnny," his voice, for a few moments, is an amalgamation of his vessel's and Gabriel's, "don't you trust me?"

Lucifer raises the hand that's not holding Johnny and snaps his fingers, and everyone in the club disappears. The music is gone, and its absence is almost as deafening as the actual sound had been.

All that's left is the mangled body, still laying in pieces across the dance floor.

"You don't even realize what you trifle with, do you?" he doesn't sound angry or threatening, but more... disappointed. "Archangels are Heaven's most devastating weapons. We are terrible and absolute."

He puts his hands on Johnny's shoulders and spins him, forcing him to look at the body.

"And Gabriel is no longer purely an archangel. Do you see this? This is justice, to him. This is what tricksters and pagans peddle out as just deserts. He is powerful, Johnny, and he is cruel, and he likes it."

Edited 2014-12-17 01:50 (UTC)

Johnny opens his eyes again when he feels the change happening, hears the voice melt uncomfortably into something else, familiar now in a very different way. He gapes up at Lucifer, frozen and quiet, no longer resisting him as the full horror of what's just happened, what is still happening, sinks in. Lucifer's in his mind. It was Lucifer touching him, pretending affection, Lucifer he kissed.

The sudden emptiness is oppressive, leaves him feeling strangely more trapped than before, or more exposed anyway. He can hear his breath coming in sharp and shallow, his heart pounding in his ears.

"No," he whispers, almost soundless, not in direct response to anything; more a general protest. A soft whimper escapes him when Lucifer turns him again, leaving him to stare helplessly down at the remains. He feels another wave of nausea pass over him; he's light-headed, weak, now mostly held up by Lucifer's hands on him.

"No," he says again, with only a little more strength. "No, he's not."

He should call Gabriel. He knows he should. But he doesn't want to, and it's not like the recent dreams, where Zagreus had him and he couldn't call for help for some reason. He knows Gabriel loves his brother, and he doesn't want to drag him here and make things worse just because he's got a fucking target painted on his ass. He doesn't want Gabriel to see any of this. Anyway it's just a dream.

"You don't know him as well as you think," he says, quiet and cold. "Not anymore."

He doesn't doubt that Gabriel used to be violent. Lucifer could be lying, but that feels too petty. This is all probably based in truth - and he knows how terrifying Gabriel can be. He's seen it, even if only in glimpses. But it doesn't matter. He's not that anymore. He believes that with every inch of himself, because he has to.

Lucifer doesn't lie. Lucifer doesn't lie because he doesn't ever have to-- and the truth is so much more powerful.

"Do you think," he says, his hands on Johnny's shoulders firm but not painfully so, just stern enough to keep him in place, "that your love has changed him? That your love has redeemed him? That your love can reverse millennia of blood and sacrifice and the works of unclean hands?"

He is not trying to be cruel right now. The lesson might be harsh, but it's one that Johnny needs to learn. Truth is the only kindness that the Devil has left in him.

"You aren't a child anymore, Johnny Truant. You're too old to be believing in fairy tales."

"Of course I don't." Johnny practically spits it out, disgusted by the questions, the ways they dig into him. That he loves Gabriel is no great secret, but it still feels private, and he hates hearing the word come from Lucifer. It was almost by accident that he said it aloud, and it still scares him, he's still ashamed of it, sometimes wishes he could take it back. He doesn't deserve Gabriel and he knows it, and if that's what Lucifer is trying to prove, then too fucking late.

"I'd never think something so fucking stupid." He's trembling, he realizes, with anger and panic and fear. He fixes the bloodied floor with a dull stare. Anything is better than looking up at the Devil.

"It doesn't have anything to do with me," he says flatly. "He changed on his own, before I ever met him. And he's the one who redeemed me."

It's true that Johnny doesn't deserve Gabriel-- he's a little mortal creature who's too stupid and nearsighted and limited to ever really deserve what an archangel can give him. The point isn't just that he's unworthy, the point is that he is both unworthy and ignorant.

"You still don't understand."

Some things need to be spelled out, apparently.

"Gabriel is an archangel, and we were made by our Father to be perfect, complete, and unchanging."

Every angel is made exactly as God intends it to be made, and they were never supposed to be different. They were not made to change, they don't have the free will to change. The implications of this in certain instances is troubling, but it also isn't something that Lucifer has neglected to consider in his life, either.

"For something to change one of us... well, it doesn't change back. Not ever, not really."

Gabriel could never go back to what he was before, just as Lucifer can never go back to how he was before the Fall. Even if he was forgiven, even if he was allowed back into Heaven and put back at his place at his Father's side, he could never be the Morningstar that Was.

"This will always be a part of Gabriel. The sooner you come to understand that, the better. I know you think I'm cruel," his drops his voice to something low and sympathetic, "but in many ways, Gabriel is so much more terrible than I am. I don't play with your kind before I kill them, Johnny."

Johnny feels like he's sinking, though the floor remains solid beneath his feet, Lucifer's hands heavy on his shoulders. His words are like poison, coming from an almost literal shoulder Devil, how fucking cute. He can feel twinges of doubt, the deep, destroying fear that on some level Lucifer is right about Gabriel. He hasn't forgotten the cold cruelty he felt and saw in Topher's memory, or the moments - small and brief and easy enough to ignore - where Gabe scared him. Never anything he's witnessed personally, but things he's heard from other people - Seth telling him Gabe once threatened to break his neck, or Daine's account of what happened during the whole Godzilla incident. He so desperately needs to trust that Gabriel is different, better than all this, infallible. He already saw one horrible crack in that glass when Gabe tried to kill himself. And this, this is another. It's too late to convince himself otherwise. The doubt is already there.

He tears himself away angrily, putting some distance between himself and Lucifer, turning to face him. His hands are clenched tight into fists, his fingernails biting into his palms.

"It doesn't matter what he was," he says, almost snarling. "I don't care. You think you're so fucking important, don't you? I'm just like some insect to you. But I don't give a fuck what you have to say about him, about whatever grandiose tragic fucking origin stories you have to tell. You don't know Gabriel at all, and you can't change the way I feel about him. So just. Fuck off."

All this pours out of him in furious, breathless surge, and when it's done he's left panting and shaking worse than before, the sting of his nails against his skin the only thing keeping him grounded as he stares, stupidly defiant, into the face of the Devil.

Johnny is a defiant little insect, staring up at the Devil while he defends Gabriel as though Gabriel needs defending. It would be endearing if it weren't so ridiculous. Gabriel, archangel of The Lord and pagan god, having his battles fought by his human pet.

"You've known Gabriel for, what, a few months? Maybe a year, or two? I've known him for longer than you can imagine, Johnny. I know him in ways that you cannot comprehend."

He folds his hands in front of him, calm and placid.

"So you can be as dismissive as you like about where he has been and what he has done," he continues, "but the past doesn't stop being real just because it makes you uncomfortable. Gabriel doesn't become something other than he is just because you wished on a star hard enough."

This argument was always going to be pointless, and Johnny knew that. Lucifer's known Gabriel for whatever, time immemorial, but it's in a paradigm that Johnny can't understand and doesn't care about, and why the fuck should he let it alter what he has with Gabe now? He raises his hands, impatient and dismissive.

"Look, what do you want from me, here?" he says. "You don't want me to leave him, that wouldn't make sense, 'cause who the fuck am I to break up with the almighty archangel Gabriel, right?" He can hear himself speeding up, getting manic and reckless, unstoppable, like a derailed train. "You don't want to hurt him, you just want him back. Back with you, hating humans or whatever it is you guys did. So what, you're trying to break me down? You want me to fear him? I've been broken by worse than you, and I'm still here, so take your best fucking shot."

He has no idea how to rank horrors he's lived through between the house, Zagreus, and the literal fucking Devil, but it's still the house he dreams about the most. He's willing to bet it's a force that runs greater and deeper than any Devil, even if betting means making such an open-ended challenge.

You got a death wish, Truant?

Which was the thing that scared me.
'Cause maybe I did.

Edited 2014-12-18 17:02 (UTC)

Johnny scores something of a bulls-eye with that one; Johnny himself is really secondary to the true issue here. It's Gabriel-- this has always been about Gabriel, his wayward little brother. He loves Gabriel, loves him sick and fierce, and would not have hurt him even before if his hands hadn't been tied. But Gabriel keeps on making these mistakes and bad choices, slumming with humans and pagans, and what has it gotten him? The pagans turned on him as soon as they found out that he was an angel-- the very one that he wanted to protect from Lucifer is the one that shoved a fake angel's blade in his chest. He stood with humans, chose them and pagan filth over his own brother, and died for it, and did they ever thank him? Were they ever grateful for that immense sacrifice made for them by an angel of The Lord? They barely appreciated Castiel, and he Fell for them.

And here Gabriel is, with more humans, throwing his lot in with them and other trans-dimensional beings. How many times does Gabriel have to be burned before he'll learn? Before he'll come home?

"You should fear Gabriel. And you should fear me, too."

He leans against the bar, at ease, like this discussion is no more serious than the weather.

"You've never been broken by anything like me, Johnny Truant," he says. "You're still human. Should I have a mind to break you, you'd end up a black-eyed demon, and I can promise you that my brother wouldn't want to touch you then. I could make you something that he'd revile, I could make you forget what it even is to be human. I could make you terrible and twisted and enjoy it."

"So you'd make me like you."

Johnny hears the words at a distance, as though someone else has spoken them. He feels cold and disconnected, his hands numb and buzzing, his insides twisted up with panic. Still he doesn't waver. He is stone. Lucifer might be able to destroy and unmake him but the prospect doesn't scare him like it should, because he's been there, he's been unmade, and terrible and twisted, and what's once more? What's left is only a shell. Filled up by everyone around him, a ceaseless battle between those who see him as the beast he is, and those who'll protect him in spite of it.

"You know why that doesn't scare me," he says, practically on autopilot. "Because I know I can't stop you. I know how easy I am to break. I don't pretend otherwise. I learned that lesson when I was seven fucking years old." He grins, manic, wolflike. He's terrified, of course he is, but it's only animal terror, instinctive, the fear of pain, the fear of loss. Not of failure or defeat. Because there's nothing to fight. No way to win.

"And you know what else I know." His scars itch. He's sweating cold and he wants to run but he stays right the fuck where he is. "I know he'd never forgive you."

"No. You would be nothing like me."

Lucifer is an angel and demons are something altogether different. He may be fallen and tarnished and exiled, a ruin of what he used to be, but he is still and always an angel. That is an immutable fact of his existence-- Lucifer, archangel of The Lord. The second creation of the Father, and once the most beloved.

He steps close, right into Johnny's space like he owns it, like Johnny is only allowed to occupy the spot he does at Lucifer's sufferance, and slides a cold hand up along the back of his neck. He presses his fingers in lightly at the hinge of the spine and skull, forcing him to look upwards at the face of the Devil.

"You assign too much importance to yourself, Johnny. You're just a human, mortal and short-lived, and do you really think that you're the first one to wander into Gabriel's life?" He tilts his head at the boy, half-mocking pity. "Do you think you'll be the last? Your death may upset him, yes, and he may be angry at me for a time, but your life is an eyeblink in his existence. He'll forget about you soon enough, when something else comes along to distract him."

He smiles gently. "And I will still be here."

Johnny's knees are locked, and as Lucifer approaches him he can only sway back slightly, almost unbalanced, unable to follow through on his intense aversion, unable to heed every signal in his body that is screaming at him to run. His breath catches when Lucifer cups his hand around his neck, his fingers sliding long the scars there, the little lines of half-moons and the single unexplainable gash. Reactive terror surges through him and his body tenses up, but he's helpless to resist. He allows himself to be moved, his lips parted to draw shallow, frightened breaths as he stares into those menacing, dead eyes.

Part of him continues to want to snarl back, caged animal that he is, insist that this is all bullshit, that he's just too arrogant to see that - but he's frozen now, gripped and silent, his heart hammering painfully in his chest.

What if Lucifer does try to break him, does kill him? Can he do it here? From inside his head? And he'll just have handed himself over. Never having seen Gabriel again. He realizes, abruptly, that he can't bear the thought of that.

He says nothing, too weakened and cowed to speak now, but he focuses his thoughts to a sharp, momentary point, like a hand grasping outward: Gabriel, I need you.

The prayer sends a jolt of panic through Gabriel. Johnny doesn't do this, so whatever the threat is, it must be serious. The outright panic doesn't disappear until he arrives in Johnny's dream and sees him uninjured. Anger replaces panic, settling down into the pit of his stomach. He doesn't want Johnny being handled like this.

He takes a brief moment to steel himself before he steps forward. Immediately, he lifts a hand and sets it on Lucifer's wrist, not pushing it away from Johnny, but making his presence felt physically. It's a strong suggestion to let go, but not a demand.

The situation doesn't look good, but it's salvageable. Lucifer knows that Johnny is safe now, because Gabriel can pull him out of this dream anytime he wants to. He's still very worried about what this means - if Lucifer feels the need to invade his dreams, that means that he's taken an interest. Enough of an interest means he might confront him in the real world, where saving him wont be as simple.

"Brother." His eyes find Johnny's eyes for a moment, reassuring him before scanning the rest of the room. This bar seems like a strange venue for this little confrontation until his gaze falls to the mangled body on the floor. He doesn't know how it got there, but he does know that it could have only been placed there to bother Johnny. His grip tightens on Lucifer's wrist by a fraction, and the body disappears from the dance floor. "I'd apologize for crashing the party, but it looks like there's nothing to crash."

Edited 2014-12-18 22:29 (UTC)

Lucifer feels it the moment that Gabriel invades the dream, and knows that Johnny called for him. It's not terribly surprising, though the boy has held out against him for longer than expected without calling in the cavalry. Gabriel's hand is warm against his wrist, the pressure firm but undemanding. Asking him to release the boy, rather than telling him, albeit insistently. Wise, on Gabriel's part, because Lucifer doesn't take well to being ordered.

But he does, occasionally, humor his little brothers. After a moment or two, he releases Johnny's head.

Pity that he'd gotten rid of the body, though-- Lucifer thinks he ought to have appreciated that bit of trickster-esque comeuppance. The party-boy womanizer getting torn apart by the women he would victimize; it has just the right amount of poetry and blood.

"You're late, Gabriel," he says. "You've missed all the fun. And it was very much your style, too."

Liquor and women and trickster justice. Everything that Gabriel liked about this planet, isn't it?

Edited (spelling) 2014-12-18 23:36 (UTC)

Johnny tries not to let his relief show. As soon as Gabriel steps in his chest feels less tight, he can breathe a little easier, he's less faint. The guilt is just as immediate; he wishes he'd been stronger, held out on his own until he woke up. But Gabe probably wouldn't have liked that anyway. It's not like he would have kept this from him.

He takes a slightly unsteady step back as soon as Lucifer lets him go, clapping a hand against the back of his neck, to cover the scars, to warm his skin. He shifts back, feeling small and insignificant once again, the way he felt when these two talked in front of him before. He won't try anything stupid this time. He can wait until Gabriel pulls him out.

"Lucy, if you want a boyfriend you should find your own." He cocks an eyebrow, keeps his tone light. When Johnny takes a step back, he takes the step with him. This is Johnny's mind, his space. They may not be on equal footing everywhere, but they should be on equal footing here. If Lucifer has a problem with that, they can deal with it once they're not both in Johnny's dream-space.

He lifts a hand to Johnny's back, settling it between his shoulder blades. It's more a gesture of support than a show of intimacy- a way to show Johnny that things are alright without paying him more attention than he's giving to Lucifer. He rubs his thumb there once for Johnny's sake, then tips his chin up a fraction for Lucifer's.

Edited 2014-12-19 13:44 (UTC)

Lucifer would have laughed if he'd known what was going on in Gabriel's mind. Equal footing? Between an angel and a human? It isn't possible. Gabriel is too powerful for Johnny to ever truly be his equal; too powerful, and not human enough. They were never meant to be equals.

His lips twist briefly at the suggestion that he would want some little human pet of his own, like he's just bitten something sour.

"I'm teaching a lesson, Gabriel," he says. "One that your pet should've learned by now. Must I do your dirty work for you?"

Since Gabriel didn't seem at all inclined to show Johnny what he really is-- trickster justice, the petty pagan comeuppance-- Lucifer had to do it for him.

Johnny doesn't risk looking at Gabriel, aiming to be like the pet or furniture item Lucifer sees him as, but he's quietly grateful for the contact and the proximity. He wishes he could take Gabe's hand, or that they could wake up and get out of here, but Gabe has a right to know what's going on, and he's not sure he could explain it. Not that Lucifer explaining it would be any better. Maybe he could just let Gabriel see it in his memory, once they've awakened. He could do that, right? Just this once.

Edited 2014-12-19 20:12 (UTC)

"He doesn't need any lessons." And definitely not one that involves a dead body. Gabriel can guess a few possible reasons for that, and he doesn't like any of them. Most of all, he doesn't like Lucifer acting out with Johnny. It's either because he's decided to act on his disgust over fraternization with humans, or because he hopes to get to Gabriel through Johnny. Likely, it's both.

Gabriel furrows his brow for a moment, looking up at his brother. "Why not come directly to my dreams, if you wanted my attention?" There's definitely a high chance that if he had, Gabriel would have quickly shut him out, but this changes things. He wants Johnny safe, and if offering himself up to be bothered stops Johnny from being threatened, he'll do it. "If this is the alternative...I'll leave the door open for you."

He shrugs his shoulders, but keeps his hand in place at Johnny's back. "Or not dreams. We can set up a playdate. It'll be a laugh riot." His voice sounds the opposite of excited about the idea, but if that's something that Lucifer would do in exchange for not bothering his friends, it would be worth it.

Edited 2014-12-20 07:19 (UTC)

"Don't patronize me, Gabriel. If I had wanted to speak to you, I would have."

This had been for Johnny. Gabriel may have been at the base of everything, the reason that Lucifer wanted to speak to the boy, but he had not wanted him involved in the proceedings. Especially not considering Gabriel's enthusiasm at the prospect of being in his presence for any length of time. Lucifer would not force Gabriel to suffer his company; his pride would not allow it.

"I won't make a martyr of you. Keep your distance, if that's what you want."

God, he wants to wake up, he's all but whispering it repeatedly under his breath, shaking slightly, grounded only by the warmth and gentle pressure of Gabriel's hand. He stares blankly at the floor, his vision shifting in and out of focus. Lucifer's voice feels too penetrating, too loud, each word cutting into him. He hates hearing him talk to Gabe that way, he has no right to talk to Gabe that way, and yet Gabe takes it, has no choice.

Please, he hisses in his brain, desperate, suffocating. Please, let me wake up.

He raises an eyebrow at his brother. "You don't allow me to, if you're butting into my friend's dreams." He's not quite sure that Lucifer understands that bothering Johnny is as good as bothering him, and he's bound to become involved. Probably. That would mean that he's not really offering the option to keep his distance, which seems more like him anyway.

He's highly aware of how Johnny has frozen up, of the slight shake under his fingertips. This is not the time for this discussion, and it's definitely not the place. Any argument that breaks out would effect Johnny more than he'd want it to. "I'll tell you what. Let's have that play date. We can finish this chat then."

He raises his hand and wiggles his fingers in goodbye, then pulls him and Johnny out of the dream and into the real world.

kiss me like you mean goodbye, said the spider to the fly [closed]

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obviously, this is going to be terrible

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dubcon tw

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tw suicide mention, mild self-harm

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