Everything Gabriel had ever tried to forget or deny or simply not think about regarding his memories of Lucifer was now back, clear as day. Lucifer's words sent a strange thrill through him - his - and Gabriel hugged back, melting into the warm touch and leaning his head against Lucifer's shoulder for a moment. His eyes widened at the brief sight of those wings, majestically beautiful as they had always been.

He was ashamed of himself for thinking that Lucifer must have changed, that the Lucifer he had once loved must be gone; it had been easier than thinking - knowing, now - that he was still within reach.

"I will. You have given me so much to think about." He raised his hand, fingers curling loosely around Lucifer's forearm; he did not want to leave the Lightbringer's arms, his warmth, just yet.

Lucifer had never lied to him, had been warm and welcoming where Gabriel had been cold and suspicious and fearful because of the millennia spent being shaped by His apartheid rules. And despite knowing His love, Gabriel had only ever been a tool, an instrument, a herald. His own feelings about his tasks had been disregarded. Lucifer, meanwhile, wanted the best for him.

If he had been more in control of himself, he would have been appalled at his own thoughts; though if he had been more in control of himself, he would not have had such thoughts at all.