Istredd's hands lift to curl fingers into the collar of his shirt, not leaning out of Lucifer's orbit; if anything he leans into it. He feels like he can breathe here, in this book store, far from the castle and everything related to the kidnapping, clinging to Lucifer.

"You know that I do." They are in a corner and no one else is in the shop so he is confident he can get away with leaning his forehead against Lucifer's. You are so damned good at this, Lucifer. Charming and supportive and vulnerable. Lucifer is at his best. Even in Istredd's fantasies, he couldn't imagine feeling this good all the time.

This is a jump away from when you were concerned me shattering would shatter you.