There is an abandoned church hidden amongst the aftermath of a landslide, on the outskirts of the city. Lucifer finds peace there and soon, Azrael does as well.
The two of them sit amongst the dust bunnies and the rotting wood, talking about the latest schemes, gossip, and fashion. They look at each other too, stealing glances that they hope go unnoticed.
“Do you like anyone, Lucifer?” It slips quickly from Azrael’s mouth one day as they sit, hands fidgeting with the fraying edge of their robes.
Lucifer sits across from them, delicately peeling a large orange, but Azrael’s question stops them in their tracks. The smell of oranges fills the air.
“No.” The response is delayed and frantic. Lucifer was always a terrible liar. “Do you?”
Azrael is quicker, braver, staring intensely at their friend as they reply.
“Yes.”
Lucifer swallows hard and their hands resume their work, fingers pulling a bit more aggressively at the peel of the orange. They become concerned with all the stringy details. They do not look up. They do not face Azrael.
“What’s their name?” Lucifer asks finally, when they’re sectioning the orange off to be shared. They hand the bigger half to the other.
Azrael looks at Lucifer and smiles.
