"How was he as a kid?" A question so innocent, so curious. "Have you even been children at some point?"
Amenadiel gulped. He knew Lucifer would never talk about that time. Not even to Chloe. But could he? He remembered those times. It had been so much easier back then.

"Yes, yes Chloe, we were children once. And he was always special."

The Detective threw a curious look at the bald angel. Amenadiel, like Lucifer, didn't share his thoughts easily. She rolled her eyes.

"Can you tell me about it?"

Where should he begin? It wasn't like a short human childhood, their youth lasted hundreds and thousands of years. But seen in relation to being million years old, it was a short childhood.

"Okay, let's see…"

"Sammy, come back here!" It was the same ritual every day, the broad, black angel played babysitter for his younger brother. Dark, curly hair with even darker eyes. A smile as bright as pure light, but the little one wasn't as innocent as he looked. He had stolen Amenadiel's fruits again. And why? Because he was bored. Samael wanted to have some fun with his brothers and sisters, but most of them were just too uptight. It wasn't his thing to just pray to Father the whole day. Booooring. He loved to explore the Silver City and the surrounding gardens. He wasn't allowed to, but who could stop him?

Yes of course, Amenadiel. The big angel ran after him, like almost every day. The young angel, no bigger than a 10 year old human child, was faster and more agile. His little downy wings flapped full of joy.

He couldn't wait till he was finally able to fly. But for now he had to run and he knew the city better than anyone else.

It was their daily game of catch and even if Amenadiel would never admit it, he enjoyed the daily distraction from his duties.

Even if he let Samael win most of the time. He had to admit, the little one was getting pretty fast. It got more difficult every day to keep up with him.

Chloe giggled. "Curly hair? Yeah, Lucifer hates it, but I think it's cute." She could see Lucifer's pouting face in her imagination. He was so vain, even more since his wings were back. His behaviour got ridiculous when one of his feathers wasn't perfectly aligned. Lucifer would sit down on his couch and preen his wings like a big, giant bird.

Chloe would lying if she told herself that she didn't enjoy the view.

She loved even more to help him, to bury her hands deep down in his feathers and make him purr. It wasn't exactly a purr like a cat, more a mixture of a purr and some pleased bird sounds. The first time she heard them, she thought he was messing with her. That was till she learned that Angels sometimes made those sounds. Like they had their own language other than the spoken one. And now she tried to get those noises out of her Devil as often as possible, because it hit her when she got to know the meaning behind them.

Pleasure, the sound of pure innocent pleasure, without sex or favors involved, just like two people who were showing affection to each other, was an alien concept to Lucifer. And how long had it been, that he had a reason for those tones? Not since he started to have his own mind and desires in heaven, and she doubted he had that opportunity in hell.

"So downy wings, hmm? I know that angels molt, but downy wings?" Chloe grinned again - the idea of those wings, too cute to be true.

Amenadiel nodded, taking a sip of his Cosmo - Lucifer wasn't here to make fun of him.

"Yeah, molting is really annoying. It's itchy and a big mess, as you know."

"Stop scratching your wings, Sam." Amenadiel rolled his eyes and Michael next to him just made a scoffing "hmpf."

"But I'm itchy," the young one complained and continued to rub his back against a wall, not knowing that this would be his method to get rid of old feathers many millennia later when he was banned.

"I know, we all were at this point but scratching doesn't help. It makes things worse. Use the lotion that Rafe made you."

Samael crossed his arms in front of his chest and his wings flared out. Still downy, partly naked, not really impressive or threatening. "But that stuff smells like Dad's worn robes. Or even worse, like Uriel's nappies. NOOO WAY."

Again Amenadiel rubbed his face. Did he have to behave that way? Why couldn't he be a small and nice little angel like his siblings? No, this one was the worst yet. And why did he never listen?

Samael ran away again, without the lotion, of course.

Back in his room, he sat in his little blanket nest on top of a pile of pillows and more blankets, trying to preen his wings as good as possible without any actual feathers. The first pin feathers were coming through and that itching drove him nearly insane. He knew how that worked, he had seen the molting periods of his siblings several times. But the first time was the worst, the soft down would be replaced by big, giant feathers. He was curious what color and form he would get. Every angel got a different set of wings and the final shape wasn't visible till the feathers grew in completely. He had grey down, but that's the color they all had at this point.

Oh, he couldn't wait to try flying. It looked amazing, all his siblings in the sky, racing against each other sometimes.

It took a few days full of cursing, chasing and pouting every time while Michael held Samael and Amenadiel lotioned his wings. Even if it helped, the young angel hated the feel of restraints. But his feathers grew in, pure white with an internal glow, and big, really big, if not the biggest in all heaven.

Maaaaybe a little too big, because Samael tripped more than once over his wings, the long primaries touching the floor all the time. He had grass and other stuff in his feathers every day, and that was just annoying. He hated to feel filthy. Samael flapped his wings furiously to get rid of the leaves and other dirt. He was happy that none of his brothers and sisters could see him at this moment, because it was humiliating. The first try to fly and he face planted right away because one of his feathers got stuck in a root. Great! Yeah, he could wait for one of his siblings to show him how to do it the right way, but he didn't want to. Samael wanted to fly. NOW!

Why did Dad gave him these stupid giant wings? Now he had to get them groomed and his pride forbade him to ask his siblings. He was going to prance in front of them with his disheveled wings till one of them would offer to help. Hah! That way he wouldn't need to ask, because they offered. Totally different.