Lucifer stilled at Maze's teasing words.
Not visibly—no, to most, he probably looked as composed as ever. Relaxed posture, easy smirk, golden eyes half-lidded in amusement.
But inside?
Something shifted.
Because no one called him that.
Beautiful.
He'd been called terrifying, blasphemous, magnificent, monstrous, radiant, damned—But beautiful?
That was new.
So, naturally—He deflected.
"Well, well," he drawled, leaning back and waving a hand lazily, "I must say, you're handling this quite well, Matt. Most mortals tend to go completely mad when glimpsing an angel's true form."
He tapped his fingers against the table, adopting a more casual tone, as if this was just some idle observation.
"Did you know," he continued, "that in ancient times, people would—"
Matt smiled.
A small, amused smile, the kind that had no right being as effortlessly charming as it was.
Lucifer narrowed his eyes immediately.
Matt wasn't buying it.
Worse—he was enjoying this.
"Oh, please, do go on," Matt said smoothly, resting his chin on his hand, clearly entertained. "Tell me more about how dangerous it is to see you."
Lucifer scoffed. "It is dangerous."
Matt's smile widened slightly.
"And yet, here I am. Perfectly sane. Though I suppose you could argue I lost my mind a long time ago."
Lucifer clicked his tongue. "Oh, don't tempt me, Matt. I could make many arguments about your mental state."
Mazikeen grinned into her drink. "Oh, this is delicious."
Lucifer shot her a glare, but she just sipped smugly.
Matt, still smiling faintly, tilted his head.
"I meant what I said," he murmured.
Lucifer huffed, adjusting his cuffs. "Yes, yes, I heard you."
"Beautiful," Matt repeated, just to be insufferable.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of—"
"You are, though," Matt insisted, still smiling lightly.
He tapped his fingers against the table, thoughtful.
"I saw your wings," he murmured. "Not fully, but enough."
Lucifer stilled again.
"Enormous. White, but edged with gold," Matt continued, almost absently. "Like the moment right before fire catches, when the embers just start to glow."
Lucifer swallowed.
"And your eyes," Matt went on, voice quiet, sincere. "Too bright to be real. Like stained glass catching sunlight. Like something that wasn't meant to be seen."
But that wasn't all.
Matt's fingers curled slightly against his glass.
"And beneath that…" he exhaled. "Your skin."
Lucifer tensed.
"Parts of it," Matt continued, unshaken, "looked burned. Not charred—seared, like heat had licked over it and never quite faded. Like it's still hurting, even now."
Lucifer said nothing.
"And yet," Matt murmured, "even through that, your soul burned just as bright. No, brighter. Warmer than anything I've ever seen before."
Lucifer's breath caught.
He hadn't meant to react.
But he did.
Just for a second.
"...I don't have a soul," he muttered, almost absentmindedly.
Matt shrugged.
"I don't know what it was," he admitted. "But it reflected you perfectly."
Lucifer stared.
Matt turned slightly, as if still looking at something only he could see.
"It was… passionate. Fun. Loving, even," he said, tilting his head. "A little mean, sure. But still… beautiful."
Lucifer had no idea what to do with that.
Mazikeen was having the time of her life.
"Oh, boss," she purred. "You're so flustered."
Lucifer scoffed immediately, straightening.
"I am not flustered."
Mazikeen grinned wider. "You so are."
Lucifer rolled his eyes, but when he turned back to Matt—The sincerity in his expression hadn't wavered.
Lucifer took a long sip of the beer Mazikeen had so graciously brought him and immediately grimaced.
"Bloody hell," he muttered, setting the glass down with visible disappointment. "This is positively offensive. Are you certain this is meant for consumption?"
Mazikeen grinned, swirling her own drink lazily. "Oh, stop whining. You lost the bet, deal with it."
Lucifer sighed dramatically but let it go.
Instead, with a lazy flick of his fingers, reality shuddered.
And just like that—
Matt Murdock saw again.
For the second time that night, the world snapped into focus.
He took in the details immediately—the dimly lit bar, the dust floating in the air, the neon glow of the signs behind the counter. He could make out the grain of the wood beneath his fingers, the subtle shift of light against Mazikeen's leather jacket—
But he ignored all of it.
Because the only thing that mattered—
Was Lucifer.
Lucifer, who was still watching him, golden eyes gleaming with amusement and something else.
Lucifer, who sighed dramatically, adjusting his cuffs.
"Really, Matt," he drawled. "You've just regained your sight, and you're wasting it by staring at me? Shouldn't you be comparing it to before? Checking if everything feels normal?"
Matt, without hesitation—"No."
Lucifer blinked.
Matt's lips curled slightly, his expression unreadable but his voice warm with certainty.
"I trust you."
Lucifer opened his mouth—Then paused. Because that was new.
Trust.
So easily given. So immediate.
Lucifer, who had heard every lie ever told, could tell—
Matt meant it.
And that was… Odd.
"...Well," Lucifer muttered, tilting his head slightly. "That's rather reckless of you."
Matt smiled. "Maybe."
Lucifer clicked his tongue, shaking off the moment, slipping back into familiar territory.
"At this rate," he quipped, lazily resting his chin on his palm, "I might start to feel objectified."
Matt, calm as ever, shrugged.
"My apologies," he said.
But he didn't stop looking.
Mazikeen, who was fully invested in this conversation now, took a slow sip of whiskey, watching the scene unfold like it was her favorite show.
Lucifer, determined to turn the tables, smirked.
"My, my," he purred, leaning in slightly. "Have you ever been with a man before, Matt?"
Matt didn't flinch.
"No."
Lucifer's grin curled wider.
"Would you like to?"
Matt hummed softly, considering the question far too seriously.
"...I wouldn't say I'm curious," he admitted. "But if it's you?"
He lifted his drink, taking a slow sip.
"I wouldn't be opposed."
Lucifer actually choked on his own drink.
Mazikeen nearly fell off her chair laughing.
"Oh, boss," she wheezed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "He got you."
Lucifer, for the first time in centuries, had no immediate comeback.
Matt, still far too composed, just smiled knowingly.
Lucifer cleared his throat, smoothing down his sleeves.
"Well," he muttered, picking up his drink again, "now you're just showing off."
Matt huffed a quiet laugh, his gaze never wavering.
Lucifer rolled his eyes but smirked despite himself.
Oh, he liked this one.
However, Lucifer, ever the competitive one, decided that this would not stand.
He had spent millennia being the one who teased, who charmed, who left others flustered and speechless—
And here was Matt Murdock, a mortal, turning the tables on him with nothing but calm honesty.
No, no. Unacceptable.
So, naturally, Lucifer leaned in, golden eyes gleaming with devilish delight.
"You know, Matt," he purred, tone silky smooth, "I do pride myself on being quite… adaptable."
Matt arched a brow. "Adaptable?"
Lucifer's grin curled wider.
"Oh, yes," he murmured. "You see, I can be quite the switch—"
Mazikeen snorted into her drink.
"But," Lucifer continued, ignoring her, gaze locked onto Matt's, "I might just top, just for you, to show you how fun it can be on the other end."
A lesser man would have choked.
Would have flushed, stammered, looked away.
Matt Murdock?
He took a long, thoughtful sip of his drink, then slowly set it down, considering Lucifer's words with the same measured seriousness he would use when dealing with difficult problems.
Lucifer's smirk widened, already anticipating the flustered reaction—
Then—
"I suppose I wouldn't be opposed," Matt admitted, tilting his head slightly.
Lucifer blinked.
Matt continued, voice steady, thoughtful:
"Not if I get to see all of your beauty while you're on top of me."
Lucifer actually choked.
Mazikeen, cackling, slammed her hand on the table. "Oh Hell, this is the best night of my life."
Lucifer, for the first time in centuries, was visibly stunned.
His usual easy confidence was still there, but his smirk faltered—just slightly.
Matt Murdock had just turned his own game against him and was winning.
Lucifer, never one to back down from a challenge, narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, my dear Matt," he purred, recovering quickly, "you really are dangerous."
Matt's lips curled slightly, amused. "So I've been told."
Lucifer leaned back, pretending to study him, as if sizing up an opponent in a battle of wits.
Then, just as he was about to retort—
Mazikeen groaned loudly, throwing up her hands.
"Would you two just fuck already?!"
Lucifer immediately latched onto the distraction.
He sat up abruptly, checking his watch—which he wasn't even wearing.
"Oh, would you look at that," he said dramatically, "it's late! I should really be going. We need to search for a place to stay, after all, and—"
Matt, who had clearly anticipated Lucifer escaping, cut him off before he could escape.
"You can stay at my place," he said simply.
Lucifer froze.
Mazikeen grinned like a wolf.
"Oh, I really like this one," she purred.
Lucifer, briefly outmaneuvered, searched for an excuse—
And found none.
Matt, calm as ever, finished his drink and waited.
Lucifer sighed deeply, then flashed him a charming, begrudging smirk.
"Well, Matt," he drawled, finally accepting defeat, "it seems you win this round."
Matt smiled knowingly. "I win every round."
Lucifer groaned, standing up.
"Fine, fine," he muttered. "Lead the way, darling."
Matt stood, and as they headed for the exit, Mazikeen leaned over to Lucifer, grinning.
"You know," she whispered, delighted, "you are flustered."
Lucifer, for once, had no comeback.
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