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Sam had been dozing for almost a week. The war and the failed apocalypse were long over and Lucifer had been forgiven and redeemed by God, although he had decided against returning to heaven. At some point in their relationship, when Lucifer was faced with either leaving Sam, and the Earth, or leaving Nick's empty shell and finding a new human to slowly burn out, and another after that, and so on, Sam had snapped and decided to take the role of vessel himself.
Only because it was selfish of Sam to ask a string of other people to do what he wouldn't. Not at all because he enjoyed this, because Lucifer had been right about the exhilaration, because Sam had spent the last six months desperately jealous of Nick. Not at all.
After readjusting to his new living arrangement, not to mention nigh-immortality (actually Sam thought that one might take a century or so to really sink in), Sam had started spending quite a bit of time sleeping. It was easy, with Lucifer right there to look after him, and since Dean hadn't spoken a word to either of them since the new arrangement had started, Sam didn't have to feel guilty about it. If his brother wanted to talk, Sam would be there.
But the sleeping was starting to worry Sam nevertheless. Sometimes he wondered if this was what happened to permanent vessels, if one day he was going to sink into a coma and never wake up, never bother Lucifer by being the little voice in the back of his mind again.
He wondered how he was supposed to feel about that. How Lucifer felt about it. Whether he was hoping for that outcome and just patiently waiting for Sam to slip into unconsciousness, forever. Sam had never brought it up. He was a little afraid of the answer.
Today, though, Sam had other things on his mind.
Namely, the cramp in his left thigh muscle, and why Lucifer didn't seem to notice it.
Sam tried to flex his leg.
Or, he thought that was what he was doing, anyway. It had been rather a while since he'd needed, or had any inclination to control any of his muscles.
Lucifer didn't even notice Sam pushing at him. He was holding himself still, like stone, for some reason, probably listening in on Angel Radio or meditating or something. It didn't even feel like he was breathing. Sam tried not to think about that too much. He'd already told Lucifer he greatly preferred the angel to keep using Sam's lungs even if he didn't have to. Lucifer seemed Sam's preference for continuing to perform now-pointless human bodily functions as a quirk that Sam would get over eventually.
Sam pushed harder at his leg.
This time, Lucifer frowned a little. It could have been a response to Sam's meager attempt to control their body. Or one of the angels could have been making a dirty joke Lucifer disapproved of.
Sam considered asking Lucifer to move the leg. It wasn't a big request, after all. It wouldn't inconvenience the archangel at all.
This time, Sam prodded at Lucifer's mind rather than their shared muscles. Finally, Lucifer took notice.
'Sam?' Lucifer opened their eyes and glanced into the mirror beside their chair.
Uh... hi. Sorry to bother you. They'd spent countless years together, on Earth and in Hell, and somehow Sam was still capable of having these fits of awkwardness around Lucifer.
'As always Sam, you're not,' Lucifer said.
Could you maybe... stretch our left leg?
From Lucifer's expression in the mirror, Sam could tell he didn't really understand the purpose of the request.
You can't feel that? Sam asked. It's cramped, I mean.
Lucifer looked down at the leg, covered in the white silk of his favourite suit. 'I see,' he said. He experimentally twitched the leg a little, only succeeding in making the cramp worse, somehow.
Sam rolled his eyes (internally). 'Don't you notice when I'm in pain?' he snapped, a little peevishly. He pushed at the leg again and it stretched, and suddenly his hand was rubbing the aching muscle until the pain faded.
Lucifer was oddly silent.
'Lucifer?' Sam asked, still using their body to talk instead of their mental connection, while he had control anyway. 'Are you okay?'
Lucifer tilted their head back and stared into Sam's eyes. 'I didn't let you do that intentionally,' he said, taking control of their mouth again.
Sam frowned. 'I took control off you? Just like that? Without you letting me?'
It wasn't like Sam had never wrestled control away from Lucifer before. But it had always been a struggle, unless, as happened far more often, Lucifer intentionally held himself back and went along with whatever Sam wanted to do. This time, Sam had hardly made an effort at all.
'What does it mean?' he asked Lucifer in the mirror.
'You're getting stronger. We're equals.' Lucifer looked almost excited, and their face broke out into a smile.
Sam wasn't sure if he or his other half had caused the smile. 'Equals?' he asked.
Lucifer nodded. 'Two halves, together and equal at last.'
He didn't need to finish the thought. Sam picked up on his meaning, and it pleased him just as much as Lucifer. He looked down at his hands and cracked his knuckles for the first time in months. Sam hadn't thought his and Lucifer's body-sharing situation could improve. But somehow it had.
They were whole, at last.