When a coffee deficit started to hit speed was of the essence, in Lucifer's not particularly humble opinion, look, you didn't get set up to rule the Pride ring by being modest. As far as he was concerned, he and Alastor were about to hit critical levels of low caffeine, there'd been none all morning, not before their visit to Alastor's room and not after. Lucifer's original trek in search of coffee was interrupted by spies and dramatics, not exactly the nouns he was looking for pre-caffeination.
But it was all right, they were headed downstairs now, together, no room for any interruptions and coffee would soon be within their grasp. To be fair, Lucifer could have created a portal down to the kitchen. Sure, he could, it was simple as a finger snap, or really a thought, the snapping was just for showmanship, hey, when you had the skills, you share the thrills, am I right?
Anyway, it would have been easy as cake and a piece of pie to make a portal, he'd even gotten Alastor to take one before, it wasn't like that was anything new.
Thing was, when a person had powers, it was so very easy to fall into constantly using them. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, if you had abilities you used them, simple as that. Except, sometimes it was better to do things the…well. The ordinary way, the way people without powers did things. It was just better occasionally; coffee was a good example of something that required an actual hand in, conjuring it never did taste right.
So Lucifer didn't protest when it became obvious Alastor intended to take the long way downstairs. For whatever reason, maybe he resented Lucifer's multiperson ability for fast travel, not that he'd seen any sign of that. Maybe he didn't like being too involved in someone else's magics, plenty didn't. Or maybe he only wanted to enjoy the walk and Lucifer was leaning towards the third option when they got to the stairwell and Alastor leaned down to take his hand, twining their fingers together.
Okay, this was…new. Not the holding hands bit, they'd popped that cherry at dinner the other night. But holding hands under a table with only their little group around was distinctly different than right out here in the lobby and he could see guests meandering around down the stairs, people who could see them, right now, see everything. Sure, Alastor carried him up to bed that one time, but that was in the wee hours! He was drunk! There were excuses they could kart out for that. Very thin, very weak excuses, like, public toilet paper thinness, but excuses!
Not that they needed excuses to hold hands, not anymore, that ship had sailed off into the lava pool yonder. Well, kind of, saying they were having sex conjured up plenty of scenarios for the inhabitants of Hell and remarkably few of them actually included handholding as one of the perks. Probably collars and leashes were more familiar territory, maybe a whip or two and a riding crop thrown into the mix.
(Hey, Lucifer wasn't against a little kink so long as some proper rules were established, and that was a step he and Alastor glossed over entirely too often.)
But first they had to get past the public handholding stage.
It was…nice. Alastor's hands were as warm as the rest of him, his slender fingers curled comfortably against Lucifer's. It was also a little ludicrous, their height differences meant Alastor had to reach down like a bargain bin Igor to grab his hand to begin with and walking down the stairs together made them bobble next to each other, a pair of ill-matched carousel horses traveling downward.
Why would Alastor want to hold hands in the general public, anyway? To show him off? Alastor's relationship with PDA was about as complex as his one with sex, torn in half between wants/don't wants. Today seemed to be a wants day and Lucifer was more than all right with indulging.
Strange, really, that a week ago, Lucifer hadn't wanted anyone to know they were in an unlabeled relationship of choice. Now he found the idea wasn't only acceptable, it was actually pretty damn appealing. As much as Alastor didn't want, or possibly need, his protection, it was an undeniable effect of them being together. Sure, his name might not cause terror in Hell amongst the long-timers so much as reminders of a theme park until recently; you'd think his fight with Adam would've bought some street cred. He was still the King of Hell, and that brought with it little respect but a lot of wariness.
He didn't know who Alastor's deal was with, that wasn't something he could force, more's the pity, but unless they lived in a hole on the outskirts of the city, they knew who he was with now. If Alastor wanted to reinforce that, then let whoever it was skulking around taking photographs of them get a fucking eyeful. None of them were going anywhere, there was plenty of time for a little well-placed revenge if it eventually came to that.
(He could show them fear if that's what they wanted, oh, yes, he could show them undreamt, unrelenting nightmares and devour their screams)
That was enough for him to keep his hand in Alastor's even though he probably looked like a damn kid holding his dad's hand at the mall and that was a comparison he wasn't about to share; Alastor was perfectly capable of coming up with his own mockery, he didn't need Lucifer feeding him lines.
"You have plans for the rest of the day?" Lucifer asked. They were headed towards the kitchen and hopefully coffee. For all that technically caffeine shouldn't affect Lucifer, either he had a placebo effect going or God forgot to add that one to his play card.
"I do." And that was it, because Alastor was a shit. He'd answer the question at hand but double-damned if he'd offer info for free. Lucifer vaguely recalled one of his self-help books mentioning Stockholm syndrome and wondered if that explain why Alastor's brattiness only made him fond rather than irritated.
Alastor only strolled on next to him, easy as a walk in the park, his microphone tucked behind his back and utterly unconcerned to be walking hand and hand with the devil.
A devil whose gaze kept straying to the bared nape of Alastor's neck, exposed by his tidy little ponytail, or maybe it was more of a manbun, Lucifer had been rocking the same hairstyle for some ten thousand years, he wasn't up to date with current fashions or as current as Alastor ever got. Whatever it was called, it left a space too often untouched visible to any eyes that could see it. That tender place practically begged for more kisses, a bruise sucked into that thin skin, left as a symbol and a warning.
Truth be told, he was a little torn between appreciating the view and yanking that little ponytail loose, combing Alastor's hair down to cover it again, all the better to keep that view a private one, jealous, him? Only a lot, thanks, he hadn't had long enough to play with his new toy before sharing it with the crowds. He shared Alastor enough, with worse people than the general public.
Only once they were safely ensconced in the kitchen and out of sight of witnesses did Alastor let him go, heading straight for the coffee machine. Lucifer took command of one of the chairs, propping his feet up on the edge of the table.
"You know, if you wanted to stake a claim, pissing on my shoes would be faster," Lucifer said teasingly.
"I'm sure I've no idea what you mean," Alastor said as he retrieved the coffee grounds from the high shelf, all airily unconcerned, such a brat. "As I was saying—"
"You weren't saying anything, babe, you were busy parading me in front of the rabble."
"As I was saying," Alastor repeated firmly. He leaned against the countertop, the coffee machine burbling out liquid happiness next to him. "I was going to check on the gardens. The barriers should have kept back the recent uptick in acid rain, but better to check. Strange weather for this time of year, don't you think?" Alastor's tone was knowing and Lucifer refused to squirm about it. Sure, he'd been trying to spy but Alastor was the one who actually broke the scrying sphere. Felt like there should be at least a little shared blame there.
Alastor poured them both a cup of gloriously fragrant bean juice, seriously, Lucifer was never going to be able to go back to his own coffee. He handed Lucifer one of the cups and watched as he tossed it back in three gulps, taking a more reserved sip of his own before he said. "You're welcome to come if you like."
Welcome to come to the gardens while Alastor worked? Only a few days ago Alastor bristled at the mere suggestion of Lucifer coming with, offended at the very idea he might need help. Now he was extending an invitation without even a grudging side eye.
Holding hands, spending time together outside of the bedroom. This was a good thing, right? Lucifer was certainly enjoying it, if only it weren't for the almost imperceptible note of dread underneath it all. He wasn't forgetting Alastor's shadow and its agitation earlier this morning, and the last time it wigged out, he'd found Alastor hiding in the corner of their room doped up on bargain-basement aphrodisiacs. Something was up and Lucifer was going to figure out what, if he could.
But first.
"I'd like," Lucifer said simply and Alastor hid his smile behind another sip of coffee.
There was a class in progress when they came around the bend into the garden, demons of a variety of shapes and sizes contorted with varying levels of grace into what Lucifer assumed were yoga poses. Either that or someone poisoned the oatmeal this morning and these were the last spasms of a dying demon horde. Lucifer was really hoping it was the former, otherwise there was bound to be some unpleasant paperwork.
Alastor didn't so much as glance in their direction, striding on down the path that wound its way through the gardens. Lucifer hung back at his heels, not so much that he didn't want to walk beside him as it was he kept getting distracted. There were definitely some new additions since the last time Lucifer came down here. For one, he was very sure he would have recalled the statue of a cherub pissing into a pond, a classic design that bore a suspiciously familiar face. Look, Lucifer's face was plastered on statuary and posters all over Hell, that was all on the part of his ex-wife driving the brand and he'd gone along with it, why not, wasn't like they were actually looking at him. His face was all over, that was old hat. He was less fond of his dick being on display, especially since whomever put the statue into place—
CoughAlastorcough
—had gone with the more artistic approach of wee Willy winky and not true to life. Considering Alastor was the only person around in the position to know what his true to life looked like, kind of a (heh) dick move.
The main stretch of plants and pathway seemed okay, protected by the nearly invisible canopy overhead but there was a little deterioration at the edges where the rain seeped in after it hit the ground and that was where Alastor paused to crouch down, examining the browned grass and withered plants.
There was a bed of flowers nearby, their heads sagging listlessly and Lucifer gave it his own inspection. Hellebore, a plant native to the Pride ring, its purplish petals the color of a fresh bruise. He touched one and the petals fell in a cascade, fluttering to the ground and leaving only a stem behind. "There are gardens at the palace, you know."
"Oh?" Alastor sounded disinterested, which could mean he was actually bored or that he was listening intently. This was a guy who well knew impressions were everything and Lucifer was learning to watch closely if he wanted the correct one.
"Mmhmm," Lucifer said. He touched one of the still-glossy leaves, lacy with burn holes and pointedly did not repair it. Alastor said he could come along, not help, and he was determined not to overstep. "This is nothing like them."
"I supposed you'll have to forgive my amateur efforts." The acid in Alastor's tone would have paired well with the recent downpours. Lucifer did not wince, he'd been more or less expecting that reaction, Alastor didn't like to be compared to others, not things or people. Whether that was because he was such a special snowflake he didn't think there could be a valid comparison or he didn't want Lucifer to think there could be any comparison, Lucifer did not know.
Didn't matter, he had this one.
"Nah, I think I like this better. It's more," Lucifer struggled for the word and decided on, "organic. Everything at the palace is so organized, neat and tidy, cleaned up and cut down, everything in its place, no exception." Except his workshop. There, like here, was all chaos. Jumbled piles of ducks, each different from the other rather than a riot of plants. Here was a wild kaleidoscope sown across the landscape, vines and stems and flowers all tangling together in an explosion of colors, snarling up in an order that made sense only at a plant level. It reminded him of Alastor's bayou, of Alastor himself.
"There's more native plants here, too," Lucifer went on. Proof that Hell could, at times, be lovely. "The palace gardens are all rose bushes and apple trees."
"I suppose it's best you already have a rose garden," Alastor said absently. He scooped up a handful of dirt and let it fall in a narrow stream from his fist, watching as it went, and Lucifer wondered what he saw in it. "I can't grow them."
"Really?" Lucifer blinked, that was unusual. "Why?"
Alastor shrugged, dusting off his hand. "Part of my Hellish punishments, I assume. If I so much as touch them, they die."
He didn't elaborate and Lucifer didn't press. There had to be a reason for it, there always was, something linked to his previous life that helped form the shape of him in Hell. That was how it worked for mortal souls, punishments were specific, and cruel. That was the whole point of Hell, to maximize suffering whenever it could.
He wondered if Alastor still missed roses; likely so, it wouldn't be much of a punishment, otherwise.
"If I ever get around to pruning," Lucifer said, lightly, "I'll know just who to go to."
"I'm always pleased to be reduced to the role of gardener."
That made Lucifer frown, that hadn't been what he meant at all. Before he could say so, Alastor stood, raising his microphone and gesturing like a magician with his wand, which, wasn't that exactly what he was?
A wizard calling in his power, a summoner, a trickster, arms outstretched as clouds of swarming black and green swirled overhead, jagged bolts of neon lightning cutting through, and Alastor stood right in the middle. The yoga class didn't so much as pause, maybe they were used to Alastor stopping in to repair the damages.
Lucifer wasn't sure he'd ever get bored of seeing it. He sat with his legs drawn up, chin resting on his knees as he watched. Watched the crackle of Alastor's power surrounding him, eldritch green light seeping from nowhere, the faint smell of rotting vegetation and ozone heavy in the air as the plants began responding to his silent order. His antlers branched out like the skeletal limbs of a dying tree, his hair torn free from the elastic and rising in the sudden cold breeze. The shadow of his tentacles were visible, writhing around him in a thrashing tangle and he was so beautiful that every particle of Lucifer's being yearned towards him.
Lucifer's definition of beautiful was always off-kilter from the rest of the universe, he knew that, he could find beauty in the way an earthworm moved through the soil or a snake shed its skin. It was different, maybe, when you weren't caged in by your physical form and could experience all of it yourself.
The ability to create life wasn't in and of itself amazing. He could do everything Alastor was easily, he was an angel, creation was built in him down to his core. He could snap his fingers and every plant in this garden would be as perfect and pristine as Eden itself, for a little while.
And so very, very wrong.
This was the way that this garden was created and this was how it should be healed, to keep that chaos, plants living and dying and living again. There was something about watching what a mortal soul was capable of, that Alastorwas, that was so awe inspiring and how was it the other angels never quite saw his vision? He'd forgotten himself, for a long, long time. All that cruelty and destruction and hate inherent in them and they could still make things of such beauty. Plants curling up and around him, reaching up towards the scarlet sky that was equally likely to kill them as nourish.
So many complexities in each little soul, every one different as a snowflake…or a rubber duck. As horrible as sinners could be, it was these moments that truly made Alastor beautiful. Something worthy of being loved and all Lucifer wanted in this moment was to tell him so.
Alastor shifted on his feet, lowering his arms and that rush of power faded, tucked back into itself and leaving behind restored plants and sidewalk.
"There," Alastor said, deeply satisfied. Lucifer started to get to his feet, wanting to take his hands again, to look at him, talk to him and whether or not he accepted Lucifer's affection didn't matter as much as offering it did. Even if it drove him off, Alastor would be back. After all, Lucifer still had his pajamas.
Before he could even get to his feet, the tap of footsteps on the path had both of them turning to see Lanolyn walking up. She looked anxious and considering how the last time she spoke with Alastor went, Lucifer didn't blame her.
But it wasn't fear in her eyes when she came up to Alastor.
"Hello?" Lanolyn said cautiously.
"Hello, my dear," Alastor said easily. "And how are you today? Enjoying twisting yourself into knots?"
She smiled nervously. "Yes, actually. It's a good way to bring yourself down after a tough therapy session." She looked around, taking in the restored plants. "I heard you made the gardens, they're lovely."
"Naturally," Alastor preened, there was really no other word for it, narcissistic bastard. "I'm always up to the challenge of growing the hotel for our guests, haha!"
If Rosie's presence stirred unspoken emotions in Lucifer then he had no qualms in naming exactly how he felt about Sheepy over there standing so close to Alastor. He was right fucking here, thanks, standing three feet away and all her eyes were for Alastor.
To Hell with holding hands, if she took one step closer to him, Lucifer was grabbing two handfuls of his ass.
"Did you have a moment to talk?" Lanolyn asked hopefully and yeah, all right, Lucifer was going to shave her bald and knit himself a nice sweater with a caption that said Fuck Off. Be nice and toasty to wear downstairs for morning coffee.
"Not right now, my dear." Alastor actually managed to sound regretful and Lucifer's vision spilled into red. "I'm a little preoccupied. Perhaps another time?"
"Oh." Lanolyn's face fell, crestfallen. "Of course."
And just as Lucifer was beginning to enjoy her pain, Alastor added, "Tomorrow, perhaps, before my show?"
She perked up immediately, her smile restored, "Oh, yes!"
"Meet me at my studio at half past ten and we can talk." Alastor gave her a little chuck under the chin with his knuckles and Lanolyn glowed.
Lucifer glowered. What had he just been thinking about sharing Alastor enough and here was the sheeple invading on his precious time.
"Yes, yes, of course," she babbled. Then she did turn to Lucifer and it wasn't a glare she sent his way, but it was certainly a look, oh, try it, bitch. She gave what could only be called an impertinent nod, "Your majesty."
"See you around," Lucifer said, sweetly. Either she didn't hear the implied threat or didn't care. She only trotted away happily back to her yoga mat to rejoin the class.
Lucifer watched her go, waiting until she was out of earshot before whirling on Alastor.
"Staying in touch with old guest stars, eh?" Lucifer said, and hey, look, he could spit acid, too.
Alastor only waved an idle, dismissive hand. "We live in the same hotel, it's hardly necessary to become pen pals."
"No, no, you'd rather have little chats, right? What do you think she wants to chat about?"
"I am the facilities manager," Alastor reminded him. "Not simply the gardener or a receptacle for your desires."
"Don't call yourself that," Lucifer said, scowling harder. Nameless or not, that wasn't what this was, and he wasn't going to play a game of competing affections against a random sinner. If there was one thing it was gonna be, it was monogamous.
Whatever Alastor's sexuality, now Lucifer knew it included the occasional woman, enough that he'd honed his skills at going downtown, even if Lucifer didn't get a chance to enjoy it. Those skills were going to have to atrophy for now, even if he could grudgingly see how someone like Lanolyn might appeal.
She'd have some baggage, sure, but nothing like his. She was cute and fluffy and Alastor saved her once before, maybe he'd love to play the part of hero for a change, for at least a little while. Come to think of it, Alastor did seem to have something of a savior complex, in an extremely backwards, twisted, and disturbing way, as he was sure Niffty and Husk would testify.
Well, if Niffty could ever talk on camera.
While Lucifer was stewing, mentally going through comparisons of him against the fucking sheep girl, Alastor only stood watching him, his smile widening by the second.
"As delightful a treat your jealousy always is, I'll remind you it's also ludicrous." Alastor's grin went coy, and he tapped his fingers lightly against his microphone, sheering static. "Although, she does have—"
Lucifer didn't wait to see what taunt Alastor was packaging up to send in his direction. He caught hold of Alastor's shirtfront and hauled him down to kissing height. Alastor was already leaning in willingly, but Lucifer didn't stop, pulling him down, down, down. His crimson eyes went wide and startled when Lucifer dragged him all the way to the ground, hauling Alastor on top of him. Sure, this wasn't their normal modus operandi but with all these yoga lookie loos, maybe even Box getting an eyeful of Alastor topping the devil himself? That had to be good for his rep, right?
That Lanolyn was still over doing their stupid downward sheep pose was only a bonus.
Alastor flailed gracelessly against him, trying to free himself and Lucifer hooked his ankles behind his knees, arms around his waist, pinning him in reverse.
"What are you doing?" Alastor spluttered. His entire face was as crimson as the hair hanging into it, his eyes darting around where other demons were suddenly very interested in their hot yoga and pointedly not looking at them.
Hey, it was good to be the king. Lucifer tightened his hold as Alastor squirmed against him, hm, that was a delight all its own, now wasn't it.
"I want a kiss," Lucifer said petulantly. He'd earned one, he decided, he hadn't ripped the wool right from Land O'Lakes head, a kiss was a worthy reward.
"We are in public!"
"You've kissed me before in public." Seemed worth pointing out, kissed with tongue, thank you, several times right in the lobby before anyone even knew about them.
Really, the absolute outrage on Alastor's face alone was worth all the effort. "I have never once kissed you like this in public!"
"Details, details. Give me a kiss and I'll let you go." He pursed his lips and waited.
If he were honest, and despite rumors Lucifer usually was, he would've let Alastor go without one, if he'd been any less adorably embarrassed. Someone was suddenly shy about PDA and that was fine, Lucifer wasn't about to book them a night in the glass box on the corner of Wilshire Boulevard and 13th in the Lust Ring or anything. But a kiss seemed reasonable and Lucifer waited, holding Alastor tight and enjoying the show while he fussed and struggled.
"You're ridiculous!" Alastor said, finally, all hissing static and exasperation, outraged as a wet cat. "She barely spoke to me, you spoiled little shit!"
Yeah, okay, now he was definitely not letting go without a kiss.
"Kissy kissy," Lucifer said, singsong. "One kiss isn't going to kill you."
"It may kill you," Alastor gritted out.
"Oooh, big bad radio demon with the threats. Want me to start shaking in my boots?" He shimmied his hips in demonstration, bouncing Alastor against him and making him gasp. From the way his eyes went rounder and the news coming up (heh) from crotch level, Lucifer thought he was getting the point.
"No, I do not!" Alastor leaned down and pressed a hasty kiss against Lucifer's mouth, practically banging their mouths together with enough force to split a lip. He pulled back almost immediately, snarling out, "There!"
Lucifer pouted, poking out his sore lower lip. "That's it? I wanted a kiss, not a bruise."
"You didn't specify length and you can't renegotiate terms after the fact. Now let me go!"
Trust the dealmaster to be a stickler for rules. Reluctantly, Lucifer did, allowing Alastor to scramble away, and started climbing to his feet. Just in time to yelp as he was tackled to the ground again, facedown this time with Alastor straddling his back. Lucifer spat out his newly acquired mouthful of grass and dirt, craning his neck to glare at Alastor's smug face.
"Does his majesty want to play?" Alastor asked sweetly. "I'd prefer to keep our sexual exploits private, but it seems to me you'd like to wrestle, no?"
Oh, it was so on. Plants would suffer for Alastor's hubris.
"I'm going to make you pay for that," Lucifer told him regretfully.
Alastor's eyes fell half-closed and he leaned in, his breath warm against Lucifer's ear as he said, all low static and brassy tones, "Darling, I'd love to see you try."
Fuck, yes.
By the time he had Alastor pinned, it was less a payback and more that they were both laughing too hard to continue. On their third roll, they'd ended up in one of the flowerbeds and all around them were uprooted plants, scattered mulch, and even a cracked segment of sidewalk dragged in by a flailing tentacle.
Lucifer panted, out of unneeded breath, as he knelt on Alastor's chest, pinning both of his wrists by his head, and Lucifer's tail was doing extra duty wrapped firmly around Alastor's ankles, holding him down.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a workout like that. For such a scrawny guy, Alastor was strong and if he could exploit his powers for an unfair, then so could Lucifer.
He'd pulled a little from his demonic side and had not missed Alastor's sudden sharp inhale or the gleam in his eyes, someone was interested, now wasn't he. Lucifer's horns were still curving over his head, the tip of his tail lashing at their feet. When Alastor squirmed, testing his grip, the rest of it tightened possessively around Alastor's ankles, his fingers digging bruises into Alastor's slim wrists. If he was beautiful using his powers then he was gorgeouslike this, damp hair clinging to his sweaty cheeks, crimson eyes shining, and his laughter was as real as the soaring affection in Lucifer's soul.
Finally, Alastor surrendered, sagging down into the dirt and ruin as he panted through his giggles. Lucifer didn't let go, but he did take a look around at the plant wreckage surrounding them. Oops. "I think we ruined this flowerbed."
"Nothing that can't be easily remedied." Alastor's grin was impish. "It could be that it is your turn to kiss me."
Yeah, okay, someone had to do the kissing and it looked like Lucifer needed to step up to the plate, woe. He leaned down and chastely pressed his mouth to Alastor's, only for chastity to dive headfirst out a window into the lust pool as Alastor pushed up into it, his tongue meeting Lucifer's eagerly, licking gently behind his teeth.
Lucifer forgot about yoga, publicity, and plants. The only thing in the narrow field of his attention was the heat of Alastor's mouth and the sweet, breathy sounds escaping it and—
"Hnkk!" In his kissing fugue, he'd failed to keep hold of Alastor's hands and one now had a firm grip on the base of his tail.
"What's this?" Alastor cooed. "A handle? How convenient."
"Alastor," Lucifer said weakly, afraid to move. "Don't."
"Don't? Why, when did we establish my obedience to your orders, I don't seem to recall that on our agenda." Alastor gave his tail a firm tug and Lucifer spasmed, legs kicking out, fuck, it wasn't quite as sensitive as his wings, but it was a close thing.
Okay, this was getting torn in two between arousing and humiliating, a few kisses in public was one thing, coming in his pants was not on.
A vague hum caught his attention and Lucifer looked up, hazily noticing some kind of…was that a drone hovering overhead, what the unholy fuck, the list of demons who could be spying on them with one of those was both enormous and vanishingly small.
Alastor followed his gaze and it really was interesting to see a smile work as an alternate frown. His eyes narrowed and a dark tentacle came out of nowhere, bashing it out of the sky. The drone landed a few feet away in a mangle of electronics, sparking and sputtering, then it went still.
"Manners are a lost art in Hell, I'm afraid," Alastor sighed. He pushed Lucifer upright, letting go of his tail with a firm pat on his backside. "Tuck that away, my dear, let's not share our toys with the neighbors."
Oh, this. Fucking. GUY.
"Toys, huh." Lucifer grabbed hold of Alastor the moment he sat up and this time he went the other route, extending his wings and lifting them both off the ground. Only a few feet, his wings didn't work exactly like a bird's, hovering was well within his repertoire.
He did not expect to get that squeak, the adorable one, loud in his ear as a rubber duck as Alastor wrapped arms and legs around him stranglingly tight, fingers clawing at his shoulders and his shoe heels digging into Lucifer's ass as he scrambled and made a fair effort to climb him like a drowning victim in the middle of an ocean. Good thing Lucifer didn't actually need to breathe, although his lowest wings were at risk of getting tangled up in Alastor's shoelaces.
"Put me down!" Alastor hissed, static shrill and panicked.
Okay, that was more of a reaction than he'd meant to get.
"Easy, I've got you," Lucifer soothed. He set down, his boots on the terra firma, and Alastor did not let go, still grimly clinging. Lucifer petted his hair, combing through the sweaty tangles. "We're on the ground, bean."
Alastor's eyes were still scrunched closed and he reopened them distrustfully, looking warily down before slowly, slowly letting one long leg slide downward until his toes touched ground. Only when he was certain it wasn't a trick or an illusion did he let his other foot slide down, and he stood.
Lucifer was torn between laughter, apology, and sympathy. If he'd realized Alastor was that afraid of heights, he wouldn't have done that…maybe.
Alastor was straightening his tie with the pompous air of one who was absolutely not two minutes ago squealing like a faun three feet in the air and it probably would have been more effective if he didn't look like he'd just been dragged by the ankles through a lawn and garden store.
Okay, it was entirely possible that all this did not promote Alastor's seat of power within Hell.
"I hope I didn't hurt your reputation there," Lucifer said meekly. If apologies didn't stand, apologetic would have to do.
"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor sniffed, "I can't see how indulging in a little horseplay with my…with you, could. We are supposed to be involved with one another, aren't we? This was certainly involved, wouldn't you say?"
His real laughter was nothing like the edgelord cackle he usually used, it was softer, more private, made Lucifer laugh helplessly in return, and oh, he loved him. Alastor was cruel and ridiculous and funny and wonderful, and Lucifer loved every mixed up, confusing part of him, so fierce inside he felt as if he might explode and take all of Hell with him.
Lucifer met Alastor's smile with one of his own and as much as it ached to even think it, if Alastor was right and they couldn't keep this, if for some reason this didn't last, Lucifer would always remember how he felt today.
A sharp voice from behind dragged him from his thoughts, equal parts disapproving and dry. "Are you two finished?"
Lucifer whirled around so quickly to face his daughter that his feet tangled into each other and he staggered, nearly falling into Alastor, who was putting in an impressive display of accidental mimicry as he staggered, too. The two of them stood together shuffling their feet like schoolboys caught scuffling and not powerful metaphysical beings. Both of them had grass in their hair, more of it staining their clothes along with mud and the occasional crushed flower. At some point Lucifer had accidentally banged his head into Alastor's face and his nose had bled a little, there was still a crust of dried blood around one of his nostrils. The buttons on Lucifer's jacket were all torn loose, two dangling precariously and one awkwardly caught on the lapel of Alastor's coat.
Charlie, perfectly clean and tidy, looked down her nose as she took in the sight of them. Her arms were crossed over her chest and the weight of her judgment was second only to God himself.
"I believe we are," Alastor said with impressive dignity considering the grass stains down his back. "Your majesty?"
"Yep!" Lucifer blurted, nodding with the ferocity of a taxicab bobble head. "Yes! We're done, so done."
Almost immediately that disapproval melted into a soft laugh and a shake of her head as Charlie said, "If you want to take a few minutes to get cleaned up, we were about to start on dinner."
"We'll be there in a minute," Lucifer said immediately, definitely we, no solo acts today.
Charlie only nodded and walked back towards the hotel, calling over her shoulder, "Try not to break anything else along the way?"
Speaking of broken things, Alastor turned towards the mangled flower bed. This small of an area didn't seem to require the display of earlier and a quick snap of his fingers repaired it.
"Come along," Alastor said, easily, "As I said before, your housekeeping abilities have their place, preferably in the room cleaning category with Niffty, she was ever so impressed with your ability to remove stains from sheets—"
"Want me to bloody the other side of your nose?"
"—but soap is better," Alastor finished, blithely. He took hold of Lucifer's hand again, threading their fingers together and something pinched, hard enough that he almost jerked his hand away, what the fuck—
The mellow gleam of gold on his finger met his startled eyes.
Oh. Right. That…that was still…there. Wasn't it.
Alastor started to turn his way, maybe confused as to why he suddenly sprouted issues with hand holding and Lucifer hastily tightened his grip, ignoring the slight pain.
"Lead the way, snowflake," Lucifer said with bright cheer.
"Please don't add another nickname to your repertoire," Alastor complained. "What does that even mean? There's no snow here, no flakes of any kind outside of laundry soap and cereal, at least use some logic while you torment me."
Yeah, because Alastor was nothing but logical with his assholeishness. "Sorry, coffee bean."
"I won't say it's better, but it is preferred."
They walked back and Lucifer noticed that despite them both standing in Hell's version of broad daylight, he was the only one casting a shadow. That…that was not right, Alastor's shadow showed up regularly where strictly speaking it shouldn't be possible, why wouldn't it be out where it absolutely should. Come to think of it, he didn't recall seeing his shadow when Alastor was working his mojo earlier, either, and that was extremely strange, friends and neighbors, his shadow was usually around when he went all rawr, where was it now?
Despite the carnage of their wrestling, Alastor seemed fine enough, and he'd just seen the shadow upstairs. How far could Alastor get from it, Lucifer wondered, at least a few floors in the hotel, was it off doing something else? On its own or at Alastor's command?
Lucifer said nothing as he followed Alastor back into the hotel. Something was definitely going on and whether or not it was something bad, Lucifer did not know.
But he was going to find out.
-finis