(no subject)

[thelightbringer]

WHO: Sam Merlotte, Lucifer, and later Chuck Shurley.
WHERE: The fields and then the city.
WHEN: Last week of January.
RATING/WARNINGS: PG and none.
SUMMARY: Sam is teaching Lucifer New Things.


The worst part about being stuck here was that Lucifer had only barely learned to deal with being trapped in a vessel. Every aspect of his claustrophobia was amplified here, and there were only so many ways he knew how to alleviate it without getting arrested.

Sam Merlotte was proving to be one of the few reliable methods, though. Which was why he had taken the man (currently in the form of a hellhound) out to the fields in Sector Seven.

They landed, and he gave Sam a second to find his feet. Lucifer looked down at him, thinking back a few thousand years to the last time he'd needed to take on an animal form. "Ready?"

Comments

[shifting]

Ready? Sam-the-hellhound is more than ready for a run. He's ready for a marathon. For a triatholon. For very labor-intensive exercise trials that he can't put a name to. All of them. At once. Now.

I'm just waiting on you now, he thinks, teasing.

[bunkbuddy]

Lucifer shifted abruptly into a large wolf. Even a large wolf would be no match for a hellhound, but Lucifer wasn't above using his abilities so he could keep up.

He nipped Sam's invisible shoulder and took off running.

[shifting]

Sam was right on his heels, thrilled to be running, but even more thrilled to be running with a fellow shifter - and a wolf. His prejudices against werewolves aside, Sam had always felt they were beautiful animals.

They were right on the border of the city here, just deep enough in to have wide, rolling hills of farmland that they could dart between. When Sam was able to outpace Lucifer he turned straight into a cornfield, darting through the tall green stalks.

[bunkbuddy]

Despite Lucifer's wariness about being enclosed in any way, the corn fields are different. They're symmetrical and steady like ocean waves, and there's a sound in them that he has never heard elsewhere.

He has to cheat to be able to see Sam, and has to really focus on running just to catch up. There's a touch of pride he rarely feels; hellhounds are good at what they do, and part of that is running. And there's a tiny glimmer of respect for Sam, for being able to shift into one so completely.

It's a good thing he doesn't need to breathe. When he judges he's close enough, he moves to pounce on Sam, craving play in ways his angel mind doesn't fully embrace.

[shifting]

[it's been so long since he's been able to let loose like this, turning muscle into sinuous strides, running without caring where he's going - enjoying a new skin as it's meant to be worn. He feels an immense gratitude towards Lucifer in that moment. He hasn't been able to do this since before he was enslaved. It feels like a lifetime ago.

And he's never been able to do it in the Port with someone else running in a form beside him.

He's in a heavier form than Lucifer right now, but the tackle knocks him sufficiently onto his side, where he rolls with a thumping tail and tries to catch one of the wolf's paws in a gentle mouth-grab]

[bunkbuddy]

Lucifer yipes, but playfully, as he would have in a human form--just a teasing "Owww".

The wolf body is panting as though exhausted, but all Lucifer feels is a sense of freedom that goes deeper than his bones. He's never run before; not for the fun of it. Flying, for an angel, is nowhere near the same since they move at the speed of thought. There is no exhilaration in it.

What else does a dog get to do?

[shifting]

Anything they want. Dogs are free. And they're loved. For Sam, this was the most important thing about them.

He gave Lucifer a lolling grin, his tongue hanging out in a smoky wisp as he lays on his back, paws in the air. He can tell the angel is enjoying himself as well, can smell it, and it pleases him.

We could play tag some more. Or wrestle. Or find a stick and try and take it from each other. Or knock over trashcans. Or chase things. Or find someone to pet us, or feed us.

[bunkbuddy]

The stick sounds good. The stick sounds really good, that's what Lucifer wants--to have something, to wrestle for it. It's hearing it from Sam that makes it so enticing, he's sure. As a serpent in Eden he hadn't had any snake-ish impulses that he can recall.

Why would we want someone to pet us?

A legitimate question from someone who would never consider letting someone touch him for no reason.

[shifting]

Because it feels good. Hands are amazing. People can ruffle up your fur with them, get at the places you can't. There's this little spot behind your ears, and when they scratch it just right... His tail thumps against the ground. And bellyrubs. Bellyrubs are the best.

He rolls over and onto his feet again, rubs his body against Lucifer's as he passes him. Come on, let's go find one. I'll show you.

In another step, he's shifted again - his favorite form, and one that's much more pettable.

[bunkbuddy]

The wolf follows after, albeit a little reluctantly. He doesn't mind this idea of 'using' people, but being touched is hardly his favorite thing.

Most people around here won't pet strays.

So who would? Who was easily bullied and not likely to run for a shot gun? Who lived in a home Lucifer was becoming increasingly curious about?

Let's go to Chuck. He'll do it.

[shifting]

Chuck? I know Chuck. I like him. Sam turns and licks Lucifer's chin. Let's go.

[bunkbuddy]

Lucifer nips his ear and races after him, more carefully this time as they head into the city. The House of Awesome is several blocks away, and Lucifer is bombarded with things--with scents--he never noticed even as an angel.

It takes them a good hour and a half to get there because of all the detours to avoid traffic.

[paterelohim]

Chuck is minding his own business - that is, drinking like a fish with a pink slip - when that same feeling hits him. The little pinging against his mind that tells Him an angel is close.

The feeling just makes him drink more. But when ten minutes go by and there's nobody in his apartment bothering him, He figures out who it must be and wanders downstairs, where he... can hear scratching. What?

He opens the front door, peering out onto the front porch cautiously.

[shifting]

Sam takes advantage of that peering immediately, jumping up to put two paws on the front door, trying to stick his muzzle into the open crack. There are so many new smells behind the door! And there's Chuck! He likes Chuck! And maybe Chuck has food! Oh man, what if Chuck has food and gives them food? That would be so great!

Overcome with excitement by this amazing thought, Sam tries to fit his whole head through the opening.

[bunkbuddy]

As Sam works the door open, Lucifer stops taking in how strange the prophet smells (does alcohol always smell that pungent? He's never noticed). The moment the door is open far enough he leaps, four paws onto Chuck's chest to knock him back onto the porch.

His tail is wagging for sheer love of mischief.

[paterelohim]

"Whoa!" As soon as the dog (wolf?) hits him Chuck reacts, reaching out to the dog, grabbing fistfuls of its hair, petting and hugging the dog as jubilantly as the dog is jumping on him. It's pure instinct- when he's hit with a dog he pets it, both hands on the dog's neck, scratching and petting roughly and as energetically as if he's known the dog all its life. He's saying things to the dog, too, because it seems really excited to see him, in that ridiculous slightly high-pitched tone that every human being uses when talking to animals. Things like, "Hey there, boy, hi- what're you doing, huh? Who's a good dog?"

[shifting]

All this commotion is enough to sufficiently derail Sam's thoughts from Food to Affection and Playtime. He bounds in after Lucifer and goes to sniff Chuck, shoving his face in the prophet's hair and folds of clothing, the circling back around so he can lick his face. Hey, Chuck! Hey!

[bunkbuddy]

Lucifer thumps his tail and watches Sam a moment through half-closed eyes (the shifter hadn't been lying about that spot behind the ear). Then he lays his head down on Chuck's shoulder and only moves to nudge the prophet's head with his snout when Chuck isn't petting him.

He likes dogs. I didn't know he liked dogs. I thought we'd have to bully him.

[paterelohim]

And then Chuck is petting two dogs, each one happier to see him than the other- although the smaller one is a lot more prone to licking than the one that he's now pretty sure is a damn wolf.

Hearing words in his head, though, is definitely a new experience. He turns to the wolf in surprise. "What the hell- wait." Squint. "Lucifer? So who's this?" He keeps petting the other dog.

[shifting]

Everybody likes dogs. The thought rings with the heavy meaning of Buddhist scripture; it's practically Sam's credo. He ruins the moment by trying to climb on top of Chuck as well, jealous that he's not being pet as much. When he realizes there isn't enough room he grabs the furry scruff of Lucifer's neck and tries to tug him off playfully.

Sam! he supplies helpfully, too far into the dog mind to offer much more than that.

[bunkbuddy]

Lucifer jumps off, biting at Sam, knocking against the side of the house as he tumbles with him. He'd once wrestled with his brothers in a way that was metaphysical but similar; the familiarity is soothing on its own.

Still, he manages one remark for Chuck:

You recognized me but not Sam?

[paterelohim]

"What?" That "Sam" surprises him and sends him running through a mental checklist even as he pets both dogs as well as he can. Obviously not Sam Winchester- there's Sam Merlotte, but. What? He's not sure of how many other Sams he knows.

Lucifer knocks him out of that thought, prompting him to turn to the wolf. "Well yeah," he remarks, scratching under the wolf's chin fondly. "You're an angel, I can always sense angels."

Then it's back to the dog, talking to him and forgetting not to use the derpy talking-to-animals voice. "Who are you, buddy? I know you have a last name."

[shifting]

Sam's wagging furiously as they tumble in the entrance way, giddy beyond belief. He manages to give Lucifer's ear a good gnaw, but the wolf is larger and stronger than this form and sends Sam tumbling. Determined to hold his own, he shifts seamlessly back into a Hellhound again, aiming to put two heavy, smoky paws on the wolf's back.

Chuck's tone seeps through the joyful haze, and he barks - the sound deep and rumbling and full of distant fire. Sam Merlotte!

[bunkbuddy]

What other Sam would it be, Chuck?

Lucifer sounds amused and slightly patronizing. There aren't many Sams in the Port, and it's very rare that Lucifer tolerates them. Though as he bites the Hellhound to flip him over, one could argue Lucifer is doing a good deal more than just 'tolerating' Sam Merlotte's presence.

Look what I taught him. Recognize it?

[paterelohim]

Okay that has him yelling slightly and stumbling back, barely catching himself from falling on his ass because holy shit, did Sam just change into a goddamn Hellhound? The bark alone makes the glass of the porch rattle and his bones shake.

"Holy crap," he comments intelligently, before he turns and gives the wolf a Look at the comment. "I don't know, I didn't want to assume," Chuck retorts, nevertheless backing off to let the two dogs fight it out- or play, whatever. Seeing a wolf grapple with an invisible dog three times its size and win is interesting- Lucifer looks a little like he's putting his paw up on a table instead of pinning down a fellow dog. "How the fuck did you teach him that?"

[shifting]

Sam rolls happily onto his back, invisible tail wagging. He uses his paws to keep the wolf from getting atop him, snapping up with a soft mouth whenever he gets into range - just enjoying the tussle. The wolf's thick fur makes for a great hold.

But Chuck falling over grabs his attention. Claws scrape against the floor as he quickly rolls up, leaping over to take advantage of the downed prophet with a wet and eager tongue, coating his face and neck with Hellhound saliva. He showed me what one looks like.

[bunkbuddy]

Lucifer sits back, laughing (though it's only expressed through sheer wolfly expressions) at how Sam is handling Chuck. Licked by a Hellhound: it probably wasn't the first time for Chuck with Growley around, but somehow he doubted the experience ever lost its charm.

Sam is multi-talented.

i love that this will all get broadcast

[paterelohim]

Chuck pushes vainly at the Hellhound on top of him, sputtering and turning his face away from the saliva that looks like it's appearing out of goddamn nowhere and Jesus, the invisible thing never stops being weird when tongues are involved.

"Can you not? I like knowing where a tongue's going before it gets there, dude."

yesss

[shifting]

Eventually even lick-monsters run out of steam, and Sam lets Chuck shove him off, still wagging happily and leaning over the man. The prophet's comment sails by without a care; Sam had just been saying 'hello', after all. Affectionately. Hey, do you have any food? I'm sorta hungry. We should eat something. I bet you've got good food.