a smoking gun

Published: Jan. 17, 2020.

Words: 1,167.

Chapters: 1/1.


"Hey, hey, hey!" Mammon starts, then pauses. "...Hey."

You sigh. "What, Mammon?"

"That...uh, that's weird. You shouldn't talk about Lucifer and Lord Diavolo like that. They aren't…"

"Hooking up?" you suggest, and Beel throws in, "A couple?"


i saw no lucifer/diavolo fic, so instead of correcting that, i wrote this weird thing instead.

On AO3.

"Is sexuality a thing for demons?"

"Huh? Whaddya mean? 'cause, like, duh, of course we do that type of stuff, too. Except Levi. And, then, he's just got some scary weird doujin. I saw one once, and, the tenta--"

A simultaneous, breathless interruption from you and Levi both:

"No, that is not what I meant!"

"Eh?! You saw that one? Glimpsed my precious, limited-run print doujin of Ruri-chan with your undeserving normie eyes?!"

Mammon blinks, and you resist dragging a hand through your hair. (Always have to spell it out piece by piece with him.)

"I mean, like...orientation. With humans, we divvy up attraction with different labels, like straight, gay, or bi. I was curious if that was something demons did too, or if for you guys, it was more...universal, I guess?"

Sat across from you in the parlor, Mammon strikes a thoughtful pose. He pulls in his splayed arms from where'd they been flung over the back of the sofa to stroke his chin, and he lowers his feet from the polished wood of the coffee table situated between the four of you. He seems to seriously mull over your question, his contemplation set to a backdrop of Beel munching noisily in the armchair to your left and Levi muttering as he stews in his ire beside you on the loveseat you share.

"A'ight, listen up!" Mammon's sat forward, fists poised on his hips. "I got your answer here, and I won't be repeatin' it, so absorb my kindness while ya can."

You motion for him to continue.

"The answer is: I dunno." He shrugs, then relaxes his posture.

"Exactly what I expected from him an idiot. Lol," Levi says, and you can't repress the impulse to raise an eyebrow. (Truly, a child of the internet.) Mammon begins to bristle, a clumsy retort doubtlessly gathering in his mind, and, ah, here it comes per expectations.

"Ha? You explain it to them then if you think you can do it so well!"

The challenge revitalizes Levi, and he gives you a keen look. Mammon arranges himself, arms crossed over his chest, to enjoy the coming show.




"--a gi--"

"This isn't going to happen. Levi is not giving me a crash course in demon sex ed."

Levi crumples over the arm of the loveseat, face partially obscured by his bangs. "I was gonna answer your question," he whines in a low voice.

"I'm sure you were." You console him with a pat on the back.

"Why're you even askin' 'bout this type of shit?" Mammon asks.

"Idiot asks a legit question for once," comes a mutter from Levi, and you shush him. Things have already gone off track enough; you're not going to account a detour for a typical Mammon-and-insert-brother-here argument.

"Weeell…" You purse your lips. You'd intended to suss out if it was even an acceptable possibility before unveiling your grand theory for confirmation or denial, but that proved worthless with Levi, Beel, and Mammon as your sources. All at once: "I wanted to know if Lucifer and Diavolo are an item."

The rustle of Beel digging into a bag of chips, the crunch of him eating a fistful--you hear it all in sterling clarity in the ensuing silence from Levi and Mammon.

"Might be," Beel says after swallowing.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Mammon starts, then pauses. "...Hey."

You sigh. "What, Mammon?"

"That...uh, that's weird. You shouldn't talk about Lucifer and Lord Diavolo like that. They aren't…"

"Hooking up?" you suggest, and Beel throws in, "A couple?"

Levi makes a choking noise, something between a cackle and shocked inhalation.

"Hey." Like he took a punch to the gut, Mammon sounds injured as he says it. "That's weird. Don't even."

"Okay, but like, I can't be the one only to ever think about this!" you say. Now that it's out, the righteousness and legitimacy of your statement inflames you. "Beel agrees!"

"Pft, Beel doesn't count. You probably bribed him with food earlier to agree."

"You're being ridiculous."

"No, you are."

"No, you--" You cut yourself off, unwilling to play this childhish game. A deep breath, a moment of contemplation, and: "Look at it objectively. Your brother basically has a work wife."

Levi outright guffaws at that, slaps a palm loud on his thigh. "You--you're--" Oh, laughter strangles his words, keeps him breathless between them as mirth consumes him. The image is too much, you think.

"You buyin' this, Beel?" Mammon resorts to his remaining brother. "You takin' this seriously?"

Beel shrugs.

"Listen," you say, and you lean across the coffee table to snatch one of his increasingly flailing hands. You hold it and let the flustered surprise occupy him for a moment. "I don't say this to make you uncomfortable. I don't say this to be provocative. I don't say this to stir up trouble. I only bring it up because it has been driving me out of my mind wondering. I needed to ask you guys."

Mammon nods. His gaze darts to your held hands, then back up. (Then down, then up, then down, then up, and he noticeably swallows.)

"Can you give me a yes or no on just this one question?"

Once more, he nods.

"Okay." You breathe out. "Is your brother fucking Diavolo?"

A beat, then a puff of air warm against your cheek. Belated, both you and Mammon go as taut as Levi has been since Lucifer swept silent into the parlor.

"Quite the interesting theory," he says, voice a low hum, and death might be preferable for how embarrassment sears its way across your face. "Have you considered asking a closer source?"

Lucifer's lips stretch in a thin smile belying a simmering malice.

To summarize: You are a mere mortal, a pitiful human, yanked by the ankle down to smile pretty in a demon's game of peacemaking between three realms. It is that very demon whose character you impugn with a sordid accusation, one which involves this man bowed over to ensure he meets your gaze. He is a mighty creature, second only to the aforementioned politicking demon. Your life might hang in the balance, and all rational thought dictates you backpedal, drop to your knees and plead for the preservation of your soul, disavow your very ill-thought hypothesis with every modicum of your being.

You should do that. You really should. You really, really, really should.

Seconds tick by both too fast and too slow. Lucifer arches a brow, patient in his anticipation. Mammon's face creases in burgeoning anxiety, viewable only from your periphery. Levi starts to stutter an excuse, voice a wisp of its usual volume, and bless him for caring. Beel is tense, stare focused and wide, each chew a deafening crash of sound.

"Lucifer," you begin.

Slight enough to miss in a blink, he nods. Continue. Beg. Meet his expectations.

"Are you and Lord Diavolo in a relationship?"

(You rather think the resulting three-hour lecture was an answer in a sense.)