much shorter in real life

by Rallowfluvanz

Summary:

In Heaven, Lucifer found himself dwarfed by the other angels. In the beginning, he loved being small. His brothers and sisters adored his size as much as he enjoyed how they doted on him. Lucifer’s feet rarely touched the ground when he was in their company. Riding on shoulders and backs, cradled against a chest, sat comfortably on a hip. He soaked up their infinite well of affection.

—

or: sometimes Lucifer loves his height, but other times...

Notes:

he really goes through it, sorry :/

In Heaven, Lucifer found himself dwarfed by the other angels. In the beginning, he loved being small. His brothers and sisters adored his size as much as he enjoyed how they doted on him. Lucifer’s feet rarely touched the ground when he was in their company. Riding on shoulders and backs, cradled against a chest, sat comfortably on a hip. He soaked up their infinite well of affection. He loved his siblings so deeply, he often found himself overwhelmed, teary eyed with praise and appreciation pouring from his lips as gentle hands soothed the tidal waves of emotion. He mourned the loss of their reverent gazes and celebrated upon their return. His siblings were his world; they were all he needed.

Until Eden, his siblings were the only angels he knew. He was aware that there were others, who roamed Heaven longer than he, who possessed more power and wisdom, but they held no connection to his role. Until Eden.

The seraphims regarded him with distaste at their introduction. In the moment, he’d been unaware of their feelings, settled happily against Gabriel’s shoulder while he braided his brother’s hair. He’d waved cheerfully to the older angels, excited at the prospect of more people to love and be loved by in return. Elated at the news that he was to be a part of God’s newest creation.

Scathing politeness and pointed remarks made Lucifer shrink away from the seraphims, confused and upset. For the first time, Lucifer cried tears of sadness. Never before had he been looked upon so cruelly. Never before had it been said that his appearance implies a lack of ability to fulfill his new role in God's plan. Never before had his stature been equated to weakness. Never before had it been said that his siblings’ affection was stifling his potential. Never before had it been said that his siblings' doting behavior was unseemly.

How could that be so? He looked different from them, and they cherished that about him… His siblings’ love made him stronger… His love made them smile…

And yet… and yet. The seraphims were older. Wiser. God made them that way. Had Lucifer been wrong?

Gabriel had stormed away from the seraphims with Lucifer in his arms, leaving behind a raging Michael as the rest of his siblings followed.

—

Adam and Lilith were fond of his height. Adam could be infantilizing at times, but Lilith never was. He was centuries beyond them in years and she treated him with respect, never belittling him or discounting the maturity that came along with those years. Nor did she let that frighten her away from his company. She would scoop him out of the sky and cradle him in her arms like something precious, gazing down at him as if he were her world. For a time, Lucifer forgot why he’d come to dislike his smaller stature. How could he, when it meant she would hold him like that?

—

Lucifer knew what it was to always be the smallest in a room. Hell had exceptions, of course, should he venture outside the palace walls. He refrained from doing so since the early days, unable to face the realm he’d unwittingly created. There were Hellborn and sinners far smaller than he, and yet he feared them. It was their nature that made him feel smaller than ever.

But exhausted and sweating, gasping and crying, for the first time in his life, he felt too big as he held his newborn daughter. He could hold her—in her entirety—in his hands. Watching his darling Charlie’s face scrunch in discomfort and squirm in his arms, he finally understood the feelings his siblings held toward him. This kind of love was different than any he’d experienced before. His small body was big enough to shield this tiny, precious being. For Charlie, this body was enough to be her father, to protect her.

—

It was disheartening but inevitable, when Charlie surpassed him in height. No longer did her hands fit inside his own. No longer could she lean her head against his arm as they sat side by side. No longer was he big enough to protect all of her. He couldn’t pat the top of her head without flying or brush her hair out of her face without standing on his tiptoes.

Once again, he was too small.

—

Charlie was all grown up, learning more about their realm and her people.

Lucifer and Lilith remained in the palace, where they received regular updates from their daughter. Without Charlie there, though, Lilith.. changed. To an outsider’s view, nothing could hint at a shift in her behavior around him. It was only when she got him alone. He learned that ten thousand years of marriage had exhausted Lilith’s reserve of affection. He was Lucifer, the Morningstar, King of Hell, Fallen Angel. And yet… His titles and power crumbled away at his feet under Lilith’s hands, swept away by beautifully cruel words.

Gone were the gentle and adoring touches. No longer did she hold him like something precious. In her wake, he felt powerless. He felt small and he felt used.

When he ran out of uses, he was abandoned. Tossed aside like a little toy she had broken. He found himself alone, incapable of taking up enough space in a bed meant for two in a home turned cold and empty.

—

Lucifer couldn’t find it in himself to be offended by the Radio Demon’s jab at his height. It was provocative, but not cruel. He thought so, at the very least. The sinner was looking to get a reaction out of him, most certainly. He couldn’t fault him for striking back, given that the bar Lucifer expressed detestation for was clearly an addition he made. Lucifer could handle a back-and-forth. It evolved into entertainment when Lucifer’s lack of reaction to the baiting so blatantly irked him. It became a game for the two, Alastor’s taunts woven into innocent words meant only for Lucifer to catch their hidden intent.

Mimzy’s arrival toward the end of the tour brought along some enlightening emotions. Lucifer stood inside the doors of the hotel, enraptured by the sight of Alastor—as tall as the building he protected—as he snatched loan sharks and devoured them whole. He was hit with a wave of heat as, unbidden, a projection flashed in his mind of Alastor holding Lucifer in his palm, clawed fingers caging him in. Lucifer was blindsided by the delight that shot up his spine. His head spun, his pulse picking up against his will. Where had that come from?

Desperate to decipher the complicated feelings, Lucifer remained at the hotel.

For the duration of Charlie’s meeting in Heaven the following day, Lucifer shadowed Alastor as he performed his day to day tasks, observing and occasionally interrupting, just to satisfy his own restlessness. To avoid irritating the sinner enough that he would reject his company, Lucifer offered his assistance where he could. He was careful to follow instructions and help rather than hinder. He wouldn’t get answers if Alastor decided to chase him away, after all. Instead, he delighted in Alastor’s clear, though begrudging, acceptance of his presence.

Through their time together, the height difference became increasingly apparent. Even without his powers of gigantification, Alastor towered over Lucifer. He found his usual irritation at needing to look up at his partner of conversation suspiciously absent. It was difficult to be bothered when the necessity granted him the view of Alastor tilting his head down at him, his ears slanted and his ever-present smile directed only at Lucifer. For one of the most dangerous and feared overlords in the Pride Ring, he had a way of making his allies—or his non-enemies, at least—feel secure. Or perhaps Lucifer was projecting. It was hard to tell, given that Lucifer was the most powerful in all of Hell. At Alastor’s side, though, he didn’t feel that he needed to be the most powerful to be safe.

It wasn’t a challenge to recognize Alastor’s tendency to maintain a certain amount of distance from anyone he interacted with. Lucifer was tempted to push those limits, but it would turn out he wouldn’t need to.

Wide palms and long fingers found their way onto his person on multiple occasions. He noticed this, too, with the other residents. A hand on their shoulder, a pat on their head, a tap on their nose. Once Lucifer started spotting the casual touches, he ached to have more for himself. Alastor was a violent demon, but a gentle friend. He would oftentimes find himself awake hours after the others had retired, craving that closeness. He would fight the compulsion to venture to the sinner’s room and beg for crumbs of his affection. Lucifer was no stranger to begging for kindness, but never in such an innocent way. His cries for kindness from Lilith had been met with hits that would bruise. With those memories still too fresh, Lucifer remained in his room. He didn’t want the way Alastor treated him to change, not enough to risk that crushing disappointment again.

Yet, not even Lucifer is powerful enough to prevent change.

Alastor, bleeding and unconscious, was the last thing Lucifer expected to find in the midst of their battle with Adam. It was a sight he never wanted to see again. Gone was the sinner’s smile, replaced by slack lips and a trail of blood falling from the corner of his mouth. His torn chest threw Lucifer into a panic. He’d been forced to wait until a Hellborn was injured to aid in the fight, and it could have cost Alastor his life. It had already cost Pentious his.

The sight of Alastor’s limp body crowded his vision in his ensuing fight against Adam. Lucifer was unable and uninterested in maintaining his typical front of cheeriness and nonchalance. Adam met a swift end at Lucifer's hand.

—

Reversing Alastor’s injuries was the catalyst of a new dynamic Lucifer had never expected. He had ached for it, but that desire was as far as he'd ever let it go. It had been tucked away, hidden from everyone. He forbade himself from lingering eyes or hands, terrified of the consequences.

But Lucifer was weak to his desires, his impulse control shot. So, when offered an invitation to touch, he grasped it and ran.

Alastor made him feel small in an indescribably perfect way. His hand could easily span over Lucifer's shoulder blades and long, slender fingers were capable of encircling his waist, thumbs overlapped above Lucifer's navel. Alastor's weight over him reminded Lucifer how he fit into his own body, hyper-aware of where he belonged beneath his skin and around his bones. The simultaneous feelings of being protected and being prey left Lucifer shaking under firm but devastatingly gentle touches. It was the tenderness at the hands of one of the deadliest overlords in Hell that was his undoing. He fell apart under the attention, wracked with sighs and shutters, briefly lost to everything else except Alastor tumbling over the edge they stood on alongside him.

—

Lucifer had a tumultuous relationship with his size with millennia of highs and lows, but here, tucked under Alastor’s chin with the sinner wrapped around him in his entirety, Lucifer desperately hoped that relationship could grow into something comfortable and sure. He yearned to remain in this place, where he felt he was exactly as he should be—where he was enough, maybe even more than enough—and could dwell here uninterrupted and content. It seemed impossible, but Lucifer accepted that Alastor's adamancy was genuine, hoping against hope that he might taste the happiness he knew in his past once again.