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Title: Untitled
Wordcount: 950
What: HBD, Bel. Stop being a bastard troll to your kids.
Status: Complete
"Hey. Happy birthday."
"Happy birthday, father."
Kinda weird, yeah? Father and son sharing the same birthday but we figured to pick out an ironic date. It only ends up as 6/6/6 every hundred years, no big. Demons don't have the same reckoning of time that mortal calendars do and it makes things easy. Also, we're selfish bastards. We like having special days. It just so happens we share ours.
I was looking for him to give him his birthday gift and had found him in one of the outer gardens. This year's offering was a pale blue rose, that blue matched his eyes. Lucifer didn't like shit you could buy. He wanted effort when it came to his gifts. It had to be something you made or something you put some effort in getting. Didn't have to be anything material. You could make him a fucking omelette and he'd be happy. But he took the rose, turning it in his hand as if admiring a painting from a different angle.
"You've outdone yourself this year..."
"You think? I'm no fucking god of creation but..." He chuckled. It was soft, a delicate sound.
"I can't imagine the king of demons bent over a rosebush, cursing at the thorns because they've pricked him."
"Yeah, I might have a few times..."
Looking at him like that takes me back to days where it was just me and him. His mother went like all the others: dead. Dead and only because the baby she was bearing was way too strong for her body to contain. It meant a lot of things: that my firstborn was a ticking time bomb that was going to countdown when his fuse was it. To be honest, I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do when that fuse gets lit and he's on a countdown to doomsday.
He's special, my Lu.
He's my first. Of course he's fucking special.
I'm not gonna let just anyone light his fuse but hell. He's my son. He's probably gonna pick whoever it is on his own, me be damned.
"There's something on your mind." A statement from him, not a question.
"Nah. Just... look at you. I remember when you barely reached my fucking knee."
Another laugh.
"Was I ever that small?"
"Damn straight you were. Cute little shit." and I reached out to ruffle his hair. He hated it when I did that despite the smallest weak smile on his face.
"You look what, twenty now?"
"Twenty-five."
"Oh yeah... that nice border between adult and older teen. You always gonna look twenty-five?"
"I don't know. Are you always going to look thirty-seven?"
"Excuse you, I don't look that fucking old."
He started to laugh but that laugh was punctuated by a soft cough. There was a frown on my face I couldn't help and immediately, I had an arm around him.
"Come on. Bet you've been standing here way too fucking long again. Get your ass back to your room. I don't wanna celebrate your birthday and your funeral at the same time."
"Father, I'm fine."
"No you aren't." I couldn't help but sigh when I released him at last. There was no arguing with him. He's my kid. My stock's fucking spoiled. But then again, maybe it's because he's like this that I want to spoil him as much as fucking possible. "Just make sure to get some rest if you start to feel like shit, got it, Lucy?"
"Father, could you not?"
"You want me calling you something else? Luc? Luce?" And I couldn't help but grin. "Lulubell?"
"Father stop."
And he was pouting. It made me laugh. The first time I saw him pout was when he was ten and I first called him Lucy. Giving him these ridiculous nicknames always gets him to pout and it's fucking cute. Always gets me laughing. His face isn't the most expressive nowadays, always somewhere between tired and annoyed so I count a pout as a victory.
"You're never gonna be free of the damn nicknames, Lucifer."
"And whose fault is it for giving me a name that has to be nicknamed?"
"Maybe I did it on purpose, you don't know that."
"A sadistic bastard like yourself? It wouldn't surprise me in the least if you did."
But he had a smile on his face as he said that. A smile was even rarer than a pout when it came to this kid. I wish I knew how to bring it out more... maybe out for longer. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.
"You're right, however... perhaps I should go. It would be a shame if your present died too soon... that and I expect there will be a banquet of some sort tonight?"
"Obviously. It's what we do every year so you better go rest up because you'll have to be there."
"Of course, father."
"Later, kid." and I reached over to kiss his cheek. Just a peck. Not something I normally did with my kids but... Lucifer's special. Just gets you thinking that one day, I'm not gonna be able to do shit like that for him anymore.
As I turned to leave, I decided to start the countdown. I knew my boy was going to leave, too. It would just take a few seconds... just a moment...
3...
2...
1...
There was a sudden outcry of "FATHER. STOP." as the chorus of I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner started to blare over the speakers.
"HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, LU."
One day, I'm not gonna be able to do shit like that to him, anymore.
Hey, nobody said I was the perfect father.
Wordcount: 950
What: HBD, Bel. Stop being a bastard troll to your kids.
Status: Complete
"Hey. Happy birthday."
"Happy birthday, father."
Kinda weird, yeah? Father and son sharing the same birthday but we figured to pick out an ironic date. It only ends up as 6/6/6 every hundred years, no big. Demons don't have the same reckoning of time that mortal calendars do and it makes things easy. Also, we're selfish bastards. We like having special days. It just so happens we share ours.
I was looking for him to give him his birthday gift and had found him in one of the outer gardens. This year's offering was a pale blue rose, that blue matched his eyes. Lucifer didn't like shit you could buy. He wanted effort when it came to his gifts. It had to be something you made or something you put some effort in getting. Didn't have to be anything material. You could make him a fucking omelette and he'd be happy. But he took the rose, turning it in his hand as if admiring a painting from a different angle.
"You've outdone yourself this year..."
"You think? I'm no fucking god of creation but..." He chuckled. It was soft, a delicate sound.
"I can't imagine the king of demons bent over a rosebush, cursing at the thorns because they've pricked him."
"Yeah, I might have a few times..."
Looking at him like that takes me back to days where it was just me and him. His mother went like all the others: dead. Dead and only because the baby she was bearing was way too strong for her body to contain. It meant a lot of things: that my firstborn was a ticking time bomb that was going to countdown when his fuse was it. To be honest, I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do when that fuse gets lit and he's on a countdown to doomsday.
He's special, my Lu.
He's my first. Of course he's fucking special.
I'm not gonna let just anyone light his fuse but hell. He's my son. He's probably gonna pick whoever it is on his own, me be damned.
"There's something on your mind." A statement from him, not a question.
"Nah. Just... look at you. I remember when you barely reached my fucking knee."
Another laugh.
"Was I ever that small?"
"Damn straight you were. Cute little shit." and I reached out to ruffle his hair. He hated it when I did that despite the smallest weak smile on his face.
"You look what, twenty now?"
"Twenty-five."
"Oh yeah... that nice border between adult and older teen. You always gonna look twenty-five?"
"I don't know. Are you always going to look thirty-seven?"
"Excuse you, I don't look that fucking old."
He started to laugh but that laugh was punctuated by a soft cough. There was a frown on my face I couldn't help and immediately, I had an arm around him.
"Come on. Bet you've been standing here way too fucking long again. Get your ass back to your room. I don't wanna celebrate your birthday and your funeral at the same time."
"Father, I'm fine."
"No you aren't." I couldn't help but sigh when I released him at last. There was no arguing with him. He's my kid. My stock's fucking spoiled. But then again, maybe it's because he's like this that I want to spoil him as much as fucking possible. "Just make sure to get some rest if you start to feel like shit, got it, Lucy?"
"Father, could you not?"
"You want me calling you something else? Luc? Luce?" And I couldn't help but grin. "Lulubell?"
"Father stop."
And he was pouting. It made me laugh. The first time I saw him pout was when he was ten and I first called him Lucy. Giving him these ridiculous nicknames always gets him to pout and it's fucking cute. Always gets me laughing. His face isn't the most expressive nowadays, always somewhere between tired and annoyed so I count a pout as a victory.
"You're never gonna be free of the damn nicknames, Lucifer."
"And whose fault is it for giving me a name that has to be nicknamed?"
"Maybe I did it on purpose, you don't know that."
"A sadistic bastard like yourself? It wouldn't surprise me in the least if you did."
But he had a smile on his face as he said that. A smile was even rarer than a pout when it came to this kid. I wish I knew how to bring it out more... maybe out for longer. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.
"You're right, however... perhaps I should go. It would be a shame if your present died too soon... that and I expect there will be a banquet of some sort tonight?"
"Obviously. It's what we do every year so you better go rest up because you'll have to be there."
"Of course, father."
"Later, kid." and I reached over to kiss his cheek. Just a peck. Not something I normally did with my kids but... Lucifer's special. Just gets you thinking that one day, I'm not gonna be able to do shit like that for him anymore.
As I turned to leave, I decided to start the countdown. I knew my boy was going to leave, too. It would just take a few seconds... just a moment...
3...
2...
1...
There was a sudden outcry of "FATHER. STOP." as the chorus of I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner started to blare over the speakers.
"HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, LU."
One day, I'm not gonna be able to do shit like that to him, anymore.
Hey, nobody said I was the perfect father.
