#plotty!

"So what are we going to do?" Gabriel asked, looking troubled.

Lucian grinned terrifyingly and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Maps, building plans, routines, names, faces, it’s all there,” he said. “I’ve been a sleeper agent for about fifteen years.”

"Wow, really?" Sam said, surprised and even honored to have been (unknowingly) dating someone so deep undercover. Gabriel mimed gagging at his expression.

"How are we infiltrating?" Gabriel asked. "Since some of us haven’t spent a decade worming our ways in."

“Well,” Lucian said, “I have put in applications for Gabriel to be a janitor. Sam will have to infiltrate on the sly though. I need bugs in the main offices. There are plenty of conversations we need to know about that I’m not privy to.”

…

Sam slowly opened the door and peered in. With one last quick glance behind him to confirm that he was in fact alone, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him with a sigh of relief. The mission was so far proving to be very stressful indeed. Gabriel’s job was fairly simple - pretend to be janitorial staff and eavesdrop the hell out of the executives. Sam, on the other hand, was left to his own devices.

Namely, sneaking.

He heard some people pass the dim supply closet, talking loudly. Once they were gone he held his breath and began to search for the message Lucian had left him, not daring to turn on the lights. It was tucked way back in the corner, behind the mop. Upon touch, Sam realized that there were two notes. One of which, supposedly, was from Gabriel. He carefully slid them into his pocket and pressed his ear to the door. Silence. He opened it a crack and stepped back out before striding down the hall as casually as possible.

"Hey, you there!"

Oh. Shit.

Sam turned to find a young executive striding towards him.

"What were you doing in the supply closet?" she demanded.

"Uh," Sam said, and forced a blush. “I spilled my coffee. I was just going to grab something to clean up.”

She eyed him doubtfully. “Couldn’t find any?”

Damn.

“Thought I’d try getting the stain out with water first,” he tried.

She rolled her eyes and patted his arm. “Sure,” she said. Her hand knocked against his as she flounced off. Sam grinned and waved her off. Ugh. He hated having to make up spur of the moment lies.

Dean had always said his face tended to give him away when he was uncomfortable. He’d learned to make use of that to make his stories more convincing, but that didn’t make them more fun to tell…

The communication device in eir ear clicked on.

“Agent R, at your service,” the voice murmured. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sam.”

Oh. Sam tamped down the smile that wanted to creep onto his face. He’d keep that in mind. Once he’d checked if she was trustworthy, of course.

With that terribly uncomfortable conversation out of the way, Sam made his way to the parking lot with ease. He’d need to pick up equipment, and he quickly read Lucian’s note.

路西服店，南京路, the note read simply.

That was only a few blocks away. Given traffic, it wouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there. He flipped to Gabriel’s note.

L keeping secrets, the note read. Have heard things about M. Talk more soon.

M must be Michael, he figured. Later that evening he’d find away to speak to Gabriel. Give him a time to catch up over the mics, maybe.

In the mean time, he had a job to do.

Sam went to pick up the equipment.

南京路—or, in English, Nanjing Street—was, as always, bustling and crowded with shops everywhere. Sam squeezed his way through the crowds, grateful for his height that allowed him a better view of where he was headed. Although the street was not as beautifully lit up as it would be at night, Sam still thought the hundreds of shops were quite a sight. He had only been to Shanghai once before, and hadn’t had much of a chance for sightseeing, whether or not it was part of the job.

He located 路西服店 with some difficulty, still snickering to himself at the play on words. 路西服 translated roughly to “road suit”, but 路西弗 meant “Lucifer”. They were pronounced identically, and Sam had no doubt that the pun was no accident.

He slipped into the shop and up to the shopkeeper, a young person with sharp eyes. “路西弗送我来这里,” he murmured. Lucifer sent me here.

She grinned in a way that was eerily reminiscent of the man himself, and said simply, “来。” Come.

He followed her back into the building where the shopkeeper tapped out a code into an alarm system. “如果你是对的人，让电脑看一看你的眼睛。” If you are the right person, let the computer see your eyes.

He bent to let the retinal scanner check his eyes and smiled when the door clicked open. She patted him on the back and headed back to tend to her shop.

Sam pushed the door open and stepped inside, shutting the door neatly behind him with a soft click. Fluorescent lights turned on and began humming. Sam looked around.

The room looked like, well, a spy’s secret storage room.

It was nothing more than a plain concrete room not unlike a very small basement. Everything was neatly out away on shelves or in the two closets. In the middle of the room there was a table with a note on it. Sam crossed to pick it up.

C—it read—Top shelf of the left cabinet. Everything you need should be in there. Don’t mind the ticking, it’s just the recorder for the bugs.

There was no signature, not even an L, and the handwriting didn’t match what Sam had seen of Lucian’s hand before, but there was nobody else it could be from.

Trying to push away worries about his and Lucian’s practically nonexistent relationship, Sam went to check out the closet. There was indeed a computer hooked up to a recording system that ticked intermittently, and on the top shelf there was a stack of equipment. He carefully pulled it down and dropped it into the table.

There were the bugs for the top offices, of course, and an oxygen mask as well as sticky-padded gloves. The special suit that would give protection from cold as well as padding to try and help prevent clanking was there, too. And lastly, the ever-useful flashlight.

He stored the bugs, oxygen, gloves, and flashlight in his briefcase, but quickly stripped and put on the protective suit before redressing himself and heading back out. The woman at the desk didn’t give him a second glance as he slipped back out onto the busy street.

Now came the hard part.

Sam crawled through the air ducts of the company’s building with the flashlight clenched between his teeth, making as little noise as humanly possible. He was almost to the first office, and prepared the bug to rest just on the outer edge of the heating vent.

The office belonged to Zachariah Adler, one of the top people in the company, falling short only to Michael and the mysterious head of the business, who was off in Mumbai currently. Once Sam had tapped their offices, he would escape the building through the sewers. He wasn’t looking forward to that and was very grateful for Lucian’s state-of-the-art equipment.

He was just preparing to insert the first bug when the vent abruptly yanked open. Harsh hands dragged him out and onto the ground.

“Got him, sir,” a voice said in the distance, presumably belonging to the owner of the foot pinning him down. Sam struck out and managed to spring free. He knocked one security guard back with his elbow and had pulled his gun halfway free when a click echoed near his ear.

He froze and turned slowly to see who was holding the gun.

First he saw Michael Milton wearing a stiff, cold expression. He turned his eyes to the other person.

He was already moving before the enemy even hit the ground, packing the rifle away and swinging to his feet. He clattered down the stairs quickly before falling into a more even pace as he reached the floor beneath the roof. His shoes tapped quietly against the linoleum.

“Well?” Gabriel’s voice said in his ear.

“He’s done,” Sam said.

Gabriel’s accomplished grin was nearly audible when he spoke again. “Well, that’s that all wrapped up. Good job, team.”

Sam rolled his eyes even though his partner couldn’t see him.

“You going home after this?” Gabriel continued.

“We’re not supposed to use the mics for chatting,” Sam muttered once he was out of earshot of a pair of office workers.

“Nobody cares about the rules the way you do, C,” Gabriel sighed. “I can’t wait to be reassigned to someone who’s less of a stickler.”

“I am not a stickler,” Sam gritted out. “We won’t be reassigned at all, you realize, considering that we managed to finish the job. Also, it’s Campbell, not C.” He slid a bluetooth onto his ear to give himself a reason to be talking aloud.

Gabriel was quiet on the other end for a few long seconds, and Sam was seriously considering just taking the bug out if Gabriel was going to be childish about it, but then, “Shit, fuck,” Gabriel complained. “I lost again, this game sucks balls.”

“So get a different one,” Sam said.

“But I’m not bored of it yet,” Gabriel insisted. “I have to play it out or it’ll nag me for months.”

“I’m sure.” Sarcasm didn’t quite drip from Sam’s voice, but it was a close thing. “I can’t wait until you get reprimanded for playing minesweeper or whatever during a mission.”

“I don’t play through anything important,” Gabriel insisted, which was a flat out lie, Sam had heard him tapping away at his keys in an involved game of tetris when he’d been facing down terrorists once. “Whatever, C, you’re super predictable. I am celebrating with a lovely lady I met the other day. Let me guess, you’re going home to your apartment to pet your cat and read articles on fascinating topics like global warming and the mating habits of some type of bird in eastern Brazil.”

“Something like that,” Sam said. “Asshole.”

“You love me,” Gabriel disagreed, and then, “Ooh! Jackpot!”

“Goodbye, Gabriel,” Sam said, dryly, and discreetly turned the mic off. He stepped out the doors of the building and onto the sidewalk beside the busy street. He took a breath to regroup before heading home to shower and drop off his bag. He made his way back to the apartment complex with the ease of practice. He took a fast shower and stopped to shave off the stubble that had started grow back in. He didn’t let himself think long about what he was doing before he headed out.

Not thinking was the best way to handle this really terrible decision, he thought.

Lucian was there, just as he’d simultaneously hoped and tried hard not to anticipate, bent over to sight along the length of the cue. Sam slipped through the crowd to the bar, ordering a beer quickly before blending into the crowd to watch him work.

Sam had helped hustle enough pool as a child not to give a crap about the loud man getting beaten, preferring to keep his attention on the grace with which Lucian dominated the game.

The man accepted his loss with minimal grumbling, which was fairly unusual. Lucian nodded and shook his hand. His eyes flashed over the crowd for a moment and Sam knew he’d been spotted when a shark’s grin grew on his face. Lucian clapped the man on the back and melted into the crowd.

Sam felt his mouth turn up into an answering smile despite the fact that Lucian wasn’t there to see it anymore before returning to the bar. He finished the beer in one pull and ordered a scotch from the bartender.

“Good boy,” a low voice said in his ear, and Lucian snagged the drink from his grasp. “Care to go for a walk?”

Sam sighed pointedly. “Well, I don’t know, I was really hoping to just kick back and have a few drinks.” He closed his hand over Lucian’s and tugged the drink close enough to sip.

“You’re a tease,” Lucian told him, as if he himself wasn’t the biggest tease in the world. “I have better drinks at my place, anyway.”

“You’d better,” Sam said, and turned back to the bar to pay. The chill of Lucian’s fingers on the back of his neck, quite familiar by now, was both a comfort and a promise.

They went for a walk, not quite touching but close enough to brush sleeves. Lucian liked to drag things out like that, but his home wasn’t far.

Sam had purposely avoided any thinking of them being together in any way, but they had somehow fallen into a pattern of enjoying each other’s company whenever Sam’s job allowed it.

Not that Lucian knew Sam’s day job was spying, of course.

They fucked in the constant mess of Lucian’s sheets with him murmuring praises into Sam’s ear, rolling his hips and sucking a bruise onto his collarbone. Sam was quieter for the most part, gasping against Lucian’s neck and leaving finger-shaped bruises on his hipbones. They were both hushed in the aftermath.

“I think I might take that drink now,” Sam mumbled into his hair.

Lucian laughed, the vibrations shaking Sam’s arm where it was draped over his chest. “You know where I keep the glasses, get it yourself. And pour me one while you’re at it.”

Sam rolled his eyes and did as he was told, padding naked to the kitchen to fetch the bottle. He honestly thought he might like this part of the evening better than doing the deed itself. There was something peaceful about sharing a drink and leaning into each other, sharing air and and body heat until they were both warm and content before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Yeah, Sam thought sleepily. Sex with Lucian was great, but Sam treasured just being able to be close to him.

…

Gabriel was already seated outside the office, fiddling, of course, with his phone. The meeting they were there for was a standard assignment one, since they’d finished their last job.

“What game is it today?” Sam asked, half out of polite curiosity and half out of a desire not to sit in silence for the next few minutes.

“Angry birds,” Gabriel said. “Back to the old standard until I find a new one.”

“Have you tried sudoku?” Sam suggested. “It’s pretty entertaining.”

“Hm,” Gabriel said noncommittally, and then, “Here we go.”

The office door swung inwards and the secretary stepped out to usher them in. Sam gave her a quick smile, which Muriel returned politely, and followed Gabriel into the room.

Naomi was briskly tapping away at her computer keys. Sam slid into one of the free chairs and patiently waited for her to finish her sentence. Gabriel squinted down at his phone and poked the screen.

“Please put that away, Agent Gabriel,” she said without looking up.

Sam caught Gabriel’s scowl out of the corner of his eye.

She snapped the laptop’s screen shut with a firm click and turned to face them, cool and unruffled as ever. “I have an important task I would like the two of you to become involved in,” she said without preamble. “Before you can be a part of it, I’ll need you to submit to psych evaluations as this job includes topics you may find difficult.” She looked at them straight on. “It may seem a little unusual for me to summon you directly just to tell you to take preliminary steps before your next mission, but I feel a need to impress on you the seriousness of this undertaking.” She leaned forward. “The infiltration has been years in the making, and now that we’ve gotten to this point, I need agents as talented as the two of you on the job.”

“We’ll do our best, ma’am,” Gabriel promised. He’d had trouble with the tests in the past, Sam knew, so he was unsurprised by the uncharacteristic seriousness.

“That’ll be all for now, agents,” she said, sitting back in her chair again. “Please report to the psychology unit at your earliest convenience.”

Gabriel stopped just a little ways down the hall. “Wait a second, won’t you?” he said. “I’m gonna grab something from the vending machine before we head over.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure the psychologists will pick up on how you eat your pain,” Sam called after him.

“Fuck you too, Campbell,” Gabriel said absently, and shoved a few coins into the machine. Sam leaned up against the wall and tried to wait patiently. Gabriel deliberated over the choices for a long moment. "So," he said casually. "Nice hickies."

Sam flushed and managed not to look away in mortification. "Shut up," he said.

"No, really, they almost seem artistically arranged."

"If you keep talking I'm going to inflict gory details on you," Sam warned. "I might even beat out your disgusting chocolate syrup story."

"Ha! Not likely." Gabriel bent down and then straightened back up with a candy bar crinkling in his hands. "Shall we get going, then?"

They got themselves over to the psych department without much more fuss, Sam deflecting any comment that might be brought back around to his sex life, which was really none of Gabriel's business, anyway. They were ushered into separate rooms and Sam sat in an uncomfortably too-small chair across from a sharply-dressed woman. Behind her was a one-way mirror.

“I’m Agent Hael, Campbell. We’ll start off easily enough,” she said, getting straight down to business. “Just simple word associations. Tell me the first word that comes to mind after I speak. Apple.”

“Orange.”

“Clever.”

“Blade.”

“Test.”

“Fail.”

“Dream.”

“Sweet.”

“Bright.”

“Pure.”

“Mother.”

Sam broke eye contact.

Hael wrote something down.

“Burn.”

“Responsibility.”

“Dean.”

…

They flew out the next day, headed across the Pacific to Shanghai. Gabriel took a sleeping pill and snored softly for several hours. Sam watched a really terrible movie and tried not to overheat with nervous energy. He jiggled his leg and stared out the window to the dark emptiness until his eyes burned.

Project Azazel was the name of the group that had killed his parents. Sam knew he must have just barely scraped by on the psych eval considering how he currently felt.

Gabriel hadn’t said much between then and now. Sam had waited for him to leave the room so they could regroup. Half an hour had passed before Hael emerged and told him Gabriel had left already.

Sam suspected that Gabriel might have stormed out, considering his tenseness and the sleeping pill. He usually was too wound up on airplanes to sleep much, and preferred to stay awake anyway.

Sam hadn’t had any idea that their families had been killed by the same people until Naomi had told him last night.

It was an odd realization, to have known someone for so long and then to turn around one day and know that you had the same formative traumatic experience as a child. Gabriel obviously hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but Sam yearned to speak to him about it, compare and see what had gone different, ruminate on how their adult lives had been affected.

Gabriel had never mentioned any family before, but now Sam wondered if he had siblings. His parents would be dead of course, that being how Project Azazel operated, but he might have surviving family left. Would what had happened have driven a wedge between him and his family like it had done to Sam and Dean?

Gabriel snored unhelpfully. Sam sighed and dug around in his bag for earplugs. Might as well at least try to sleep. Wouldn’t do any good for him to arrive in Shanghai dead exhausted and too jetlagged to think.

He did doze on and off, waking up long enough to see how far they were and groaning when they were just over halfway. They did land finally, Gabriel miserably airsick and Sam miserably tired. They stumbled off the plane and managed wakefulness long enough to try and eat (or, in Gabriel's case, drink tea and turn greener) before collapsing into sleep.

The next morning was a hard one. Sam nearly drowned in the shower, feeling like he'd come down with the flu. Gabriel had stopped gagging at the idea of eating but was woozy from having gone some time without food. They managed to stumble around enough to consume breakfast and fought off sleepiness long enough to regroup.

"Naomi said that he would find us tonight," Sam reminded them both in an undertone. "So we have a day to kill."

"I know, C," Gabriel snapped, and Sam stopped trying to recite their itinerary.

Sam managed to stay awake nearly the entire day (he’d taken a nap at three, not able to resist any longer). Gabriel sat in the window and tried to absorb sunlight via photosynthesis as the dim afternoon light faded. Sam turned on the lamps once he woke up to read. They waited.

The knock came at a quarter past five. Gabriel and Sam both stood to answer the door, but Sam fell back to let his partner be the one to open it. The agent coming to meet them was one of the best, having kept cover while infiltrating Project Azazel for the past twenty years.

Gabriel opened the door, and Sam dropped the book he’d been holding.

“Hello, Sam,” said Lucian. “Hello, Gabriel.” He swept into the room without stopping to ask permission. Gabriel shut the door and cast Sam a befuddled look.

“What the fuck,” Sam managed.

“I promise I didn’t know when we first met,” Lucian said. “When I did learn, I had no choice but to keep my identity a secret in order to protect both of us.”

“C?” Gabriel asked. “You want to explain?”

“This is, uh,” Sam said. “We. We’re together.” He winced at his phrasing. “Sort of.”

“Agent Lucifer,” he said, and extended his hand. Gabriel shook it warily.

“How did you know that Gabriel is my real name?” he asked.

The name hadn’t even registered to Sam.

Lucian hesitated before answering. “That...is somewhat more complicated,” he said carefully. “You may wish to sit down.”

Gabriel raised an impressively dubious eyebrow.

“I was present on the night your parents died,” Lucian offered.

“But you’re my age,” Gabriel said, and then turned white. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” Lucian said.

“No, you can’t—I was there when they killed you. I watched.” Gabriel’s voice was shaking with the effort not to rise in hysteria. “You can’t be alive.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucian said. “I thought you were dead, too, until a few months ago. I wish I had known.”

Sam stayed quiet to let them have their reunion.

“Luci,” Gabriel said, sounding a lot younger, “you’re a complete asshole.”

Lucian smiled a little at that. “I’m very glad to see you, little brother,” he said.

Gabriel muttered something but looked overpowered with emotion. Then, “Wait,” he said. “Did Michael—”

“This is where it gets complicated,” Lucian said apologetically, and gestured for them both to sit.

Gabriel sank into the chair this time, and Sam picked up his book before following suit. Lucian sighed.

Finally, finally, they left him alone.

"The blushing bride," Sam muttered. His hands were shaking. He imagined himself tripping over his shoes partway through the ceremony and hastily kicked them off, leaving his feet half-bare in lacy socks. Sam contemplated his toes in an attempt to banish any thoughts of what was yet to come. Especially of the night he was facing. He had to do this, for his family's sake. 

He didn't even know what his husband-to-be looked like.

Sam paced around the room while he waited, trying to burn his nervous energy. Attendants showed up after not even ten minutes and instantly went into a fuss over his hair. They pushed him to the door with sighs, giving up at making him look perfect as they forced him back into the horrible shoes and out into the entrance hall.

A serious young man handed Sam a bouquet of red and white roses. Sam picked an orange blossom out and tossed it back, hissing, "I don't have a womb!"

To his frustration, an attendant swooped in and affixed the flower in his hair. The next thing he knew he was being pushed out into the aisle.

He began his wedding by stumbling into the church. He caught his breathe. You know what to do, he told himself, and stood up straight and slowly walked down the aisle with hundreds of eyes pinning him in.

There was a brief moment of uncertainty when he reached the front and a stranger stepped forward to take the flowers. He scanned the row of smartly dressed men for his fiancé.

A teenager who didn't look to have even finished growing stepped forward to take his hand, and Sam let out a breathe he hadn't intended to hold. They were the same age.

Sam wrapped their fingers together, able to feel every creak of every bone in the other boy's hand. They stood before the priest—and before God. Sam tried not to shrink away.

The boy was watching him sidelong. He looked scared, too, and Sam felt better, a little vindictively, knowing that he wasn't the only one going into this apprehensive.

The ceremony was long, and Sam's feet ached. He shifted from foot to foot and caught a glare thrown his way from the man standing beside the priest. He stilled.

At last they turned to each other to exchange vows.

"Do you, Prince Lucifer of the Noble House of Angels, and you, Samuel of the House of Campbell, promise to each other fidelity..."

Lucifer's hands didn't shake when he picked the ring up. "I do," he said, and his voice cracked a little.

"I do," Sam echoed. And he slid the ring onto the prince's finger as Lucifer did the same for him.

The man standing adjacent to the priest smiled the faintest flicker, and Sam felt suddenly cold and sickened.

"Then you may kiss as husbands," the priest concluded.

Sam's eyes darted back to Lucifer. There was no time to hesitate. He put a hand on Lucifer's arm and stepped closer for the most uncomfortable kiss of his life.

The audience applauded and sam pulled back slowly. The prince had flushed pink. Sam sensed someone moving up closer behind them and Lucifer took his hand and led him down the steps and back down the aisle.

They were walking more quickly this time, and Sam nearly twisted his ankle at the door. Lucifer helped him straighten neatly and guided him out.

Sam stood in the entry hall again, heartbeat in his ears and palms damp with sweat. Lucifer let him go and retrieved Sam's bouquet.

"Please accept these flowers as a token of the affections I hope we will grow to share," he said.

"Thank you," Sam said with practiced politeness, and took the flowers. At least Lucifer didn't have a grating, nasally voice or anything.

"Next is the banquet and the dancing," Lucifer added.

Sam tried to withhold a wince at the idea of dancing in heels.

"Come," Lucifer said, and offered his hand again. Sam wiped his off automatically in a way that was probably gross and let himself be led forward.

The hall was enormous. Sam's entire house could fit within the ballroom several times over. He froze in the door for a moment, accidentally dragging the prince to a stop.

"What's wrong?" Lucifer asked.

Sam shook his head numbly.

Someone touched his shoulder from behind. "Hello, Sam, it's a pleasure to meet you," a gentle voice said.

Sam turned and stepped back to let the kind-faced woman in.

"I'm Anna, your sister-in-law," she said, and curtsied.

Oh god, Sam was a prince now.

"Hello," he said. "Nice to meet you."

She smiled and offered an arm. "May I borrow him?" she inquired.

"Of course you may," Lucifer said. If they talked this formally all the time Sam thought he might snap from pressure.

He took Anna's arm and she led him forward in the guise of him leading her.

"I know this was sudden," she murmured to him. "You must be nervous."

"A little," Sam said carefully.

"Luci just about chewed his fingers off worrying," she said. Sam caught a glint of mischief in her voice, whether at the nickname or at the attempt of reassurance he didn't know.

"Did he really?" he asked, voice coming out too cautious to pass for casual conversation.

"He did," she said. "I hope you'll be able to be happy here, Sam. None of us want you to feel out of place."

Sam didn't quite know what to say to that. "You're very kind," he managed.

She smiled and deposited him in his chair. Lucifer was there, waiting for them.

"I'll be just a few chairs down if you need anything," she promised, and floated off again, earrings catching the light.

"Hello again," Lucifer said.

"Hello," Sam said. At home, the weddings were usually filled with laughter, the groom dancing with all the bride's brothers, eating and smiling and celebrating. Judging by the cold, slowly filling hall, things were going to go differently here. He spotted Dean near the entrance and longed to go over to him.

The man who had stood with the priest approached the head table where the two of them were and took the center chair. The king, Sam realized. He was closely followed by a boy who was similar to Lucifer's build and facial structure, but with hair dark where Lucifer's was light.

The boy who must be Lucifer's brother came to them. "Congratulations on your match," he said stiffly. Sam could feel tension radiating off of Lucifer.

"Thanks," he said, and inwardly cursed how uncouth that sounded.

"I am Michael, crown prince," he said with a curled lip.

Sam realized a moment too late what was expected and bowed.

"Don't bow, the two of you are nearly the same rank," Lucifer snapped suddenly.

Michael's attention was gone from Sam as soon as Lucifer spoke. "Would you have him behave as though he, nearly a commoner, were our betters?"

Lucifer opened his mouth to reply and a hand covered it.

"It's your fucking wedding, can you two lay off for one night," a third, younger boy complained.

Lucifer pushed him off and shut his mouth. Michael seemed determined to have the last word. "I do hope the two of you have...fun," he said, in a way that was both creepy and confusing.

"Ugh," Lucifer said under his breath, and dropped into his chair.

Clearly Sam had unwittingly signed himself up for difficult family politics.

"I'm Prince Gabriel," the younger boy said cheerfully. "Samuel, right?"

"Sam," he corrected, and accepted Gabriel's (enthusiastic) handshake.

"Attention," the king said, and his voice resonated throughout the hall. "We gather here today to recognize the marriage of my second son. Our hopes go for them to have a blessed and happy union. Please wait for your designated time to approach and offer congratulations." 

He sat back down and everyone took their seats. There was something unnerving about the resonating tone to his voice. Sam didn't want to have his full attention on him. 

He managed a few bites of very rich and strangely presented food before the first well-wishers arrived to speak to them. He pasted on a smile and tried for his best behavior. 

"Sammy!" 

Sam's heart lifted. Dean was next in the line, and he leaned across the table for a hug. 

"Wedding present for you," Dean said, and thumped a package down. He looked concerned. "How are you holding up?" 

"I'm okay," Sam said, conscious of Gabriel's curious ears and Lucifer's silence. "How's dad?"

Dean nodded like he hadn't really been expecting Sam to say much. "He's doing better. The medicine's helping. And he turned to Lucifer with a frighteningly intense look. "Treason or not," Dean said, "if you hurt my little brother I will hunt you down and string you up by your dick." 

"I intend no harm to your brother," Lucifer said, "but the warning is noted." 

Sam, who had grabbed Dean's arm reflexively at the threat, afraid that Lucifer would react badly, smiled weakly and let go. Dean looked like he didn't want to leave, but the line was pushing at his back. He ruffled Sam's hair. "Be safe, okay?" he said in an undertone. "Take this." He slid something into Sam's hand. "See you around." 

"Yeah, bye," Sam said, throat closing up as Dean walked away. Lucifer discretely slid the present under the table while Sam distracted himself by looking at what Dean had slipped him. 

High quality oil. Sam's cheeks flamed once he understood what its purpose was and he hid it in the layers next to his belt. 

Lucifer was eyeing him curiously, but didn't ask to Sam's unending relief. 

The line of people seemed never ending, and the food made Sam's stomach twist, although that could've just been nervousness. He realized partway through that Lucifer had toed his shoes off and immediately followed suit, appearances be damned. 

Finally, finally, they were allowed to escape the endless hordes of people to take their first dance as spouses. Sam only remembered his shoes when they were already nearly to the center of the hall, of course, and could only hope nobody would notice. 

(They noticed. Michael sneered at his feet.)

"I'm sorry I forgot my shoes," Sam mumbled as Lucifer slowly spun him around. 

"It's fine," Lucifer hastened to reassure. "Everyone hates wedding shoes, I doubt anyone will do much more than chuckle and reminisce." 

Sam wasn't too comforted. 

"I want the next dance with Sammy," Gabriel called when they moved past him. 

Lucifer waved acknowledgement and caught the end of Sam's irritated expression. "What, Gabriel too energetic for you?" 

"I'm really tired," Sam said honestly. "And I never loved dancing." 

"Not even with me?" Lucifer teased. At Sam's startled look, he hastily said, "I'm sorry, that was too forward of me." 

Sam took a deep breath. He could give a little. This needed to work. "It's okay," he said, and tried for a smile. "And no, not even with you." 

Someone chimed their glass and suddenly everyone was waving them on. Sam tried not to wince. Lucifer caught his mouth gently. 

"Sorry," he said when he pulled away. 

"It's fine," Sam said, even though he felt like he might explode if he didn't escape the hoards of people soon. 

Lucifer didn't seem to believe him, but spun him off into Gabriel's arms without further comment. 

"You don't have to worry about Luci," Gabriel said quietly through an easy smirk that Sam suspected was for the audience's sake. "He won't hurt you tonight." 

Sam jerked back a step. Gabriel caught him and pulled him back in. 

"Sorry for just dumping that out there," Gabriel said, "but I didn't want you to be nervous or anything. He was freaking out about it all this morning." 

"Anna said something like that, too," Sam said, and then winced. "Princess Anna, I mean." 

"Princess Anna," Gabriel repeated. "She'd get a kick out of that." He changed the subject back. "Seriously, Sam, Lucifer's a decent person. He might have a short temper but he'd never lash out at you when you're obviously still freaking out." 

"I am not," Sam said, and this time Gabriel let the topic go. 

The evening dragged on. The sun had been set for hours by the time the guests began to trickle out with final wishes of a happy marriage. Sam found Lucifer again and tried not to clutch at his arm for balance, his feet cold and aching on the marble floor and his brain begging for sleep. 

When finally everyone, even Dean, had left, with only the King, Michael, and Anna still in the huge hall with them, Lucifer gently led him to a chair so he could sit. 

"Goodnight, my sons and daughter," said the King gravely. "May you sleep well, and may today's marriage be forever blessed. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—"

"Amen," said the princes and princess. Sam chimed in a beat too late and tried not to shrink from Michael's scornful look. 

The King came nearer and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "My newest son," he said. "May you feel both welcome and content in my home." 

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Sam said. 

The King nodded once. "I will see you all in the morning," he said. "The carriage for your honeymoon will leave after breakfast, Lucifer, Samuel. Best of luck." 

"Goodnight, Father," the children echoed, with Sam's "Goodnight, Your Majesty" mixed in. Sam reached for Lucifer's hand and let himself be pulled upright. 

"No one told me weddings were so tiring," he said, and Anna laughed. 

"Blessed sleep, Sam, brothers," she said, and left in a flurry of her delicate dress's beading. 

"Goodnight, Michael," Lucifer said politely. Sam leaned on his arm, no longer caring that they were perfect strangers in his sleepiness.

"Blessed sleep," Michael returned, and Lucifer steered Sam gently from the hall. His rooms were miserably far away, Sam thought. Clearly having a castle for a home had disadvantages. They made it to his apartments soon enough, and Sam was halfway through a yawn when he remembered that it was their wedding night. 

He no longer felt very tired. 

Lucifer was rummaging through a drawer, but looked up at Sam's nervous, "Um." 

He caught on after a second when Sam glanced at the bed. 

 "Are you kidding?" he asked. "I'm asleep on my feet and we've known each other about seven hours. We can fuck tomorrow if you want." 

He flung himself down on the bed face-first, leaving plenty of room for Sam. He tugged himself free of several gauzy layers, wincing when the bottle of lubricant from Dean thumped onto the floor, and crawled into bed. 

Lucifer, he ascertained, was already asleep. He stared up into the darkness of the ceiling and tried to relax enough to sleep.