Christmas from Hell

Page 14

 
“No, you weren’t,” Lucifer simply said with a bored sigh as he allowed the mattress to drop back in place and headed for the door.
 
“Was that really necessary?” he demanded as he rolled over, pressed his hand against the slight bump on his head, careful of his stitches as he glared at the blurry figure of his older brother as the prick headed for the door.
 
“Yes,” Lucifer said with absolutely no hesitation or remorse as he paused by Duncan’s bureau, grabbed the bottle of painkillers and tossed it at-
 
“Mother fucker!” Duncan snapped when the bottle hit him in the head, just below his stitches.
 
“Get your lazy ass up,” Lucifer said, opening the bedroom door.
 
“I’m supposed to be resting, asshole!” Duncan reminded him, immediately regretting raising his voice when the sound vibrated through his head and threatened to send him crawling towards the bathroom or the nearest trashcan.
 
“Yeah, well, you weren’t,” Lucifer said, sounding bored as he pulled his cellphone out of his back pocket, looked down at it, shook his head and muttered, “Fucking pain in the ass.”
 
Duncan would have dismissed the action if it wasn’t for one thing, the way Lucifer’s eyes lit up and his lips twitched with amusement as he read the message. That told him everything that he needed to know.
 
The asshole’s little nemesis was driving him out of his fucking mind.
 
Good, Duncan thought bitterly as he grabbed hold of his mattress and pulled himself up, off the floor and onto his bed where he allowed himself to drop back with a pained groan. He kept one eye locked on the asshole standing by the door, madly texting back and looking seriously pissed off as he did it. Narrowing that one eye on the prick that his parents should have dropped on his head when he was a baby, Duncan opened the bottle of painkillers, popped one in his mouth, capped the bottle, tossed it towards the head of the bed somewhere, not really caring where it landed and closed his eyes, praying that they knocked him out otherwise…
 
Christ, he didn’t even want to contemplate what it would mean if the damn pills weren’t responsible for the other night, because if they weren’t…that meant…that meant…
 
Oh, hell, he didn’t even want to even think about what that meant. All he wanted to do was pass out, but the asshole and the pill in his stomach, making him want to rethink crawling to the nearest toilet wasn’t going to let that happen.
 
“I need you to run an errand for me,” Lucifer announced as he leaned back against the wall and continued to text.
 
“No.”
 
“Since when do you say no to family?” Lucifer asked, sounding bored as all of his attention went to the phone in his hands.
 
“Since I got a concussion and ten stitches, asshole. I’m supposed to take it easy,” he reminded the inconsiderate asshole.
 
“You’re not going to sleep,” Lucifer pointed out, not bothering to look up from his phone so that he could see Duncan flip him off.
 
“This is resting, asshole,” he snapped back even though he was already bored and needed to get out of here before he lost his fucking mind, migraine or no migraine, he didn’t fucking care.
 
“No, this is you being a prick. I need a favor.”
 
“So, send one of your lackeys to do it and get off my fucking back,” Duncan said, giving up on flipping off his brother and settled for rolling over onto his stomach until the move had him groaning in misery and rolling onto his side where he squeezed his eyes shut and did his best not to lose the pill lunch that he’d just consumed.
 
“My ‘lackeys’,” Lucifer said, sounding amused, which was a little terrifying since this was Lucifer that he was talking about here, “are busy working.”
 
“Then go do it yourself,” Duncan snapped, wondering where his brother got the balls to ask him for a favor.
 
“Can’t. I have a restaurant to run,” Lucifer said, mentioning the sore spot for every Bradford alive.
 
“You mean the restaurant that you banned me from just because I’m your brother?” Duncan demanded, deciding that lying on his right side was a bad idea, so he slowly turned over onto his left side and prayed that his stomach would stop fucking with him and let him be.
 
“Yes,” Lucifer said without absolutely no shame for committing the ultimate betrayal. Banning every single fucking Bradford simply because they were related to him.
 
Asshole.
 
“How exactly are you running a restaurant from my bedroom?” he had to ask.
 
“I’m firing the pain in the ass,” he said with a bored sigh as he continued to text, pausing every now and then to shake his head in disgust.
 
“Wouldn’t that be easier to do in person?” he asked, giving up on lying on his side and rolled over onto his back.
 
“You would think so,” Lucifer murmured in disgust.
 
“Then get out,” Duncan said, giving up on lying down all together and sat up slowly.
 
“She’s a tricky little thing,” Lucifer admitted before he asked, “Are you going to do me this favor or not?”
 
Shaking his head and pressing a hand to his stomach, Duncan stood up and headed towards the bathroom he’d installed last summer. “Not.”
 
Instead of taking the hint and getting the hell out, Lucifer chuckled without humor. “Since when do you refuse to help family?”
 
“Since you banned me from your restaurant,” Duncan snapped back with a glare as he slowly made his way to the bathroom, praying that he made it to the toilet in time without passing out.
 
“Do me this favor and I’ll lift the ban for you for one meal,” Lucifer said, taking him by surprise, because honestly he’d thought that hell would have to freeze over before his brother would ever allow any of them to step foot in his precious restaurant.