Yay, more Samifer. This one is more dense than the other two I have submitted so far. A bit more "touchy-feely" but nothing bad. More romance-ish involved, or whatever you'd like to call Samifer.
Let me know what you think. Thanks, and enjoy!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything but the fic itself, k? /shouldn't have to say this more than once
Sam awoke panting with his body covered in sweat. Yet another nightmare. Hmph. Whenever Lucifer slept in the same room as him, Sam couldn't help dreaming. It was a great annoyance; he wanted at least one night to sleep restfully, but the Devil did not allow it.
"Good morning, Sam," Lucifer cheerfully greeted him. Sam grunted in response and massaged his temples after sitting up on his bed. He noticed Lucifer was sitting at the desk in the corner and intently working on something. He was sitting in that weird way he always does, and his hands were busying themselves to something that was on the desk.
"What are you doing?" Sam demanded slowly, still groggy with sleep. Lucifer looked over his shoulder and stared at Sam right in the eyes. "Is this how you greet people in the morning? Geez, Sam, I thought you'd be a little nicer to someone as close to you as me," Lucifer said in that usual raspy voice he'd use whenever he was talking to Sam in a teasing—or even seductive—tone.
"Shut up," Sam retorted, a slight blush venturing its way onto his face, but he wiped it off as soon as he felt it, for he didn't want the Devil to see it. "I'm serious. What are you doing over there?"
Lucifer placed a cloth over whatever it was that he was working on, "You don't know already?" he smirked enigmatically. Sam wanted to smack that smirk right off of his face, but instead he retorted with, "No, how the hell am I supposed to know, if that's the first time I've seen you over there?"
Raising his eyebrows and placing a pout in place of the smirk, Lucifer rested his chin on his left hand and eyed Sam. "I only asked you a question," he acted hurt—or maybe he wasn't acting, but Sam refused to even consider it—and mumbled softly, "Somebody is getting very snappy.
"But if you must ask, you are not allowed to see it. If you don't know what it is, you shouldn't be able to look at it. C'mon, Sammy, you know it. You're just hiding it from yourself," his pout disappeared and a slim and sly grin appeared on his face.
The next day: the same routine. Sam awoke in a bad mood from yet another nightmare, and Lucifer kept working on whatever-it-was, making sure Sam would not see it. Every time Sam would try to take a peek over his shoulder, Lucifer would turn his head and bring his face so close to Sam's that Sam would sheepishly move away. Happy with himself, Lucifer would turn back around and hum a tune to himself, continuing to work.
Sam sat on the bed with his arms crossed across his chest while he watched Lucifer. He couldn't see what was happening. All he knew was from what Lucifer let him see. He was giving hints, Sam knew this, but what kind of hints were they? There was an old-fashioned feather pen, a few strings, some wood, scissors and a clump of fur or dust or something. Sam dropped his body backwards onto the bed and huffed loudly to himself. He could just walk out of the room, but then he wouldn't be able to put the pieces of the puzzle together. But what pieces were these? They made no sense. When would it all make sense?
"In all due time, I suppose," Lucifer suddenly spoke to Sam. Sam jumped.
"Are you a mind reader, too?" he seriously asked the strange man. Lucifer only chuckled to himself and continued to work on whatever it was that he was working on.
"You're boring," Sam attempted to annoy the Devil. Maybe he'd make him rush to him and would leave whatever-it-was uncovered for Sam to see.
"You are, too," was the only response he got from Lucifer.
A week passed and each day Lucifer worked lavishly on his "piece of art," as Lucifer called it one day after Sam kept bugging him with the question "what is it?"
"Sam," Lucifer was the first to start a conversation this time.
"What?" Sam snapped. He was trying to distract himself with a book since the mystery had gotten more annoying than anything else. Lucifer covered whatever-it-was with the cloth and stood up from the chair.
"Are you finally done with that?" Sam dropped his book and angrily but curiously pointed at the covered thing. The Devil stared intently into Sam's eyes, causing Sam to submissively look down and away from those piercing eyes.
"No," he monotonously replied.
"Ah…" Sam attempted to hide his disappointment. "What is it that… you want, then?" he shyly looked up at him.
The Devil did not take his eyes off of his vessel. Sam felt his breath get caught and so tried to look away again, but his eyes were locked with those beautifully horrid eyes staring at him.
It was just starting to darken outside, the oranges and reds of the sky quickly turning into purples and blues. The darkness made Lucifer's eyes and entire being seem to glow. Sam couldn't turn away from the beauty in front of him. He couldn't move an inch when he noticed Lucifer moved slowly towards him, still not keeping his eyes off of the bewildered mouse before him.
Lucifer's hand reached Sam's wavy hair and stroked it silently. He eyed Sam curiously and observed every concave and curved feature found on Sam's face. Sam's scared eyes watched Lucifer, and Lucifer could feel the fear emanating from Sam's bones. Both of his strong hands grabbed either side of Sam's face, making Sam flinch and squirm in vain, for those hands held him in place. He closed his eyes and felt Lucifer's thumbs gently stroke his cheekbones.
When Lucifer stopped and didn't do anything else, Sam opened his eyes and looked down for a few seconds before slowly moving his eyes up to the horrifyingly beautiful face in front of him. Lucifer smiled. Sam felt his walls start to crumble and fall. The barbed wire had disintegrated and the gate locks had broken beyond repair. His soul was now floating helplessly without any defense against the power that was melting his very being into mush.
"Lucifer, please—stop," Sam breathed helplessly, but at that point he really did not want to resist the Devil anymore. He was tired, and he saw the love inside those cruel eyes. He saw the protection in those huge and caring arms and wanted to forever be held in them.
Lucifer leaned forward and sniffed the air right in front of Sam. He could smell the helplessness and the will to give in. His forked tongue caressed the Sam's right cheek, causing Sam's legs to give out and he fell forward. Lucifer grabbed him firmly and looked into Sam's eyes.
Please, don't let go of me. Please. Stay by my side. Love me. Stay, Sam's eyes begged him. Lucifer held onto Sam and picked him up in his strong arms. Sam lost all of his strength and could only attempt to hold onto his fallen angel's shoulders as he felt him walking across the room. He looked at Lucifer and Lucifer looked back at him as he continued walking. His face was emotionless, and yet a cruel and selfish love was displayed there.
Lucifer stopped walking, dropped Sam onto the bed, following suit, and pulled Sam closer to him—Sam, weak and fragile closed his eyes as he felt the Devil's breath converging with his own. He felt Lucifer's lips touch his gently, and in response Sam's body gave out and before completely succumbing to the darkness enveloping him, he heard Lucifer whisper gently and amorously to Sam in his ear: "Now. Now it is finished."
Sam woke up the next morning. He slept soundly the night before, as opposed to so many other nights. He stretched happily before opening his eyes and slowly moving to a sitting position on the bed. Suddenly, he remembered what Lucifer had whispered to him before he fell asleep. He scratched his head for a few seconds before he realized what Lucifer was actually talking about. "Shit!" Sam yelled aloud as he realized Lucifer wasn't at the desk working on his "piece of art."
He scrambled to his feet and rushed over to the desk. The thing was covered, but a note was neatly placed upon it. Before Sam read the note, he noticed the fur—or dust, or whatever—that he had observed on the desk before. He looked closely at it and noticed it was actually hair—his hair. Instinctively reaching for his hair, Sam breathed heavily and slowly moved his eyes to the note. It read:
It is now finished. You should have seen this coming. I'll be back for you.
Sam nervously moved the note and took the cloth from the object that was below it, holding his breath and looking up as he did so. After it was uncovered, Sam quickly looked down to eye what was down there. He dropped the cloth onto the ground and gaped at what was before him. He looked it over and blinked several times to make sure he was seeing it correctly.
It was a puppet.
A puppet, yes.
A homemade and hand-carved puppet made by the Devil.
But that's not what took Sam's breath away.
What did it for him was the hair that was on the puppet. And the face.