You have to understand, it wasn't that Lucifer had an inherent distrust in happiness. Okay, he did, but that wasn't the reason for the speck of disbelief that was always sitting right in the middle of his chest. No matter how much joy cushioned it, no matter how much he loved his daughter's smile or laughed at Alastor's stories, or once upon a time, gazed on the glory of Eden, no matter what happened, that sliver of doubt remained, rooted deep inside him, a seed from a forbidden apple.
He'd blame his former 'family', if that was the word for it, and their treatment of him if it didn't feel a little pathetic to still be blaming them for all his issues. No, these days it was just he'd been around long enough to see that you could only go so high before the inevitable crash down.
That the disbelief was in the back of his mind as they came in from their, ah, inspection of the gardens was only proof that it was also frequently a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Lucifer got them mostly cleaned up before they went inside the hotel to keep from shedding grass and dirt across Niffty's clean carpets. Apparently even Alastor was wary of her wroth when it came to tracking in mud.
Of course, that wasn't good enough for some people who needed soap to be involved and that meant taking a detour upstairs since washing up in the fountain outside probably would get them some looks, even if it gave Lucifer a chance to show them that the peeing statue was not an accurate representation of the nether regions.
(Honestly, why? He didn't even pee, not that he needed that advertised around. Alastor's skill at satire and insult even extended to statues, one really should admire such skill)
But once they got to the bathroom, Lucifer was starting to suspect the whole soap thing was a convoluted revenge plot for shoving Alastor into the pond this morning which was totally an accident, thank you very much.
Point to the first, he'd been banned from the second shower.
Next, no third shower was on offer but sharing a sink somehow involved copious amounts of water splashing over Lucifer's front, soaking him from collar to crotch and the way his pants were clinging he wouldn't need to strip off at the fountain to give any passersby a little genital insight.
This, of course, meant war and they were both dripping by the end, their clothes drenched, Alastor's ears waterlogged and sagging as water dripped from the tips and hey, Lucifer got some height on a few of those splashes.
His clothes still felt faintly damp even after Lucifer snapped them dry, hey, Alastor splashed him first, Lucifer would defend that to the end of days. But if anyone had suggested he'd end up in a water fight with Alastor at a bathroom sink, much less wrestling in the gardens, he would have taken them in for some tests. He didn't know what had gotten into Alastor today (heh) but he had to say, he liked it.
For all that Alastor didn't have the same power of cleaning that Lucifer had, somehow he didn't seem like his shorts were crawling up his ass while they dried as Lucifer followed him out of the bathroom. He'd shucked his coat when they got in the bedroom and it left the slim lines of his hips exposed, vulnerable to lurid gazes or at least to Lucifer's and they were currently getting in plenty of attention.
"You really have to stop walking in front of me," Lucifer told him, leaning against the bedpost while taking in the view.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," Alastor said as he picked up his coat. "Does my lack of subservience disturb you? Or perhaps you'd prefer we walk side by side and pretend at being equals?"
Okay, that was an issue with a capital Ish that they weren't getting into today. "No, it's just when you walk in front of me, I can't help but stare at your ass and it's getting harder and harder—"
Alastor paused in the middle of slipping his coat back on, his cheeks going ruddy pink. "Must you be so vulgar?"
"—okay, okay, more difficult not to give it a grab and hang on." Lucifer gave him a leer, offering it up like a present. "Might even figure out where you keep that tail tucked away."
The sight of Alastor, opened-mouthed and flustered as he spluttered for a suitably scathing reply was worth committing to long-term memory, seriously, was there anything more adorable than seven feet of psychotic overlord blushing like a schoolgirl?
"How do you manage to be a complete narcissist and somehow shy at the same time?" Lucifer teased.
Alastor settled for the dignified approach, all but sticking his pert little nose into the air. "There's a difference between knowing your own strength of attractiveness as a package and having rude focus placed on a single feature."
"Don't you worry, baby, I've got an eye on the whole package."
That Alastor didn't dignify with a response. A shame, that, it was nothing less than the truth and it was a good thing, too. If Lucifer hadn't been watching Alastor so closely, he wouldn't have noticed the subtle shift of his hands in his pockets. Almost like he was tucking something in deeper, well, now, that was intriguing, wasn't it, considering how his shadow seemed quite invested in Lucifer checking his coat when last they'd met.
He added that tab to his mental pinboard and pointedly did not stare, he could be subtle if he wanted, fuck you very much, went for the nonchalance route. "Ready to head down?"
"Go on ahead without me, I'll be down shortly," Alastor told him and maybe the disappointment Lucifer used to cover his suspicion was too obvious because he added with a certain exasperation, "I haven't been to the radio tower since abruptly vacating yesterday and I've no idea what state we left it in. Considering the…ah… activities of that day, if I'm to speak with Lanolyn first thing in the morning, I'd like to double-check there's nothing untoward before inviting her in."
"You could do it in the morning." He was the King of Hell, a powerful metaphysical being created at the beginning of the universe and he did not sulk at the mere mention of her Sheepishness.
"Your confidence of my ability to claw myself free from your bed is certainly optimistic. I believe for once you're giving me too much credit," Alastor said dryly.
Yeah, that kind of sass went a long way towards embarrassing the jealousy out of him. "Baby, the equity of your line of credit is unmatched."
"Spare me your bizarre flirtations. I won't be long."
He began to turn away and Lucifer caught the front of his coat, silently thrilling that Alastor stilled, allowing him to hold on.
"Kiss me first," Lucifer teasingly demanded and one corner of Alastor's ever-present smile quirked higher.
"So terribly spoiled," Alastor murmured but he did, a softly damp press of his lips against Lucifer's. His hands rose without permission, trying to get a better hold on Alastor and failing when he nimbly stepped back out of reach.
Lucifer gave him a pout that only made Alastor smirk wider.
"Won't be a moment, my dear," Alastor said, even as he disappeared into a smear of shadowy green.
"Yeah, you better not be," Lucifer muttered aloud to no one at all. He gave himself a cursory look in the mirror, straightening his tie. "And bring that coat along."
Without Alastor to drag along, Lucifer went ahead and took a portal downstairs. He came out in front of the bar rather than right into the kitchen and saw it was open again with Husk in his rightful place behind the counter. Lucifer hesitated, glancing at the kitchen longingly before sighing and heading into the bar. Start avoiding things once and it became easier to do the next time, and the next, the next, until you were shut up in your workshop for a couple centuries.
Husk glanced at him as he approached, and the twist of his mouth wasn't one Lucifer could read. He waited while Husk served a drink to the multi-eyed fox demon at the counter before stepping up, ignoring the double take from the sinner, waving him away in case he got the idea to try for a chat or a selfie.
"Hey," Lucifer began, hesitantly, trying and failing to come up with something to say. "Look—"
"Tryin' to get me into more trouble?" Husk interrupted resignedly. But he didn't sound angry.
"No," Lucifer said honestly, "I wanted to apologize." Despite Alastor's professed dislike for them, Lucifer still planned on handing them out when he deemed it necessary and right now, he really did. "I'm so sorry for dragging you into all this. All of it was my fault. I should've listened to you from the beginning." He smiled a little, self-deprecating, "You may have noticed that's a frequent issue of mine."
"Nah," Husk shrugged, "it was whoever send the tape. Don't fret about it, I'm a big boy, I knew what I was gettin' into. I'll be fine." He pointed one clawed finger at Lucifer. "You just remember, keepin' him happy makes me happy, got it?"
"Got it," Lucifer agreed meekly. Yeah, having to spend all this time with Alastor, having sex and hanging out, orgasms, yuck, tragic, really. "See you at dinner."
"I'll be there."
Lucifer gave him a nod and this time he headed directly to the kitchen on the theory that the less he screwed around getting there, the more likely he'd actually arrive.
Charlie and Vaggie were sitting together at the table when he opened the kitchen door, holding hands, and what Lucifer saw was that they were cooking a dish of the emotional variety. If Lucifer could give Vaggie's expression a name, hangdog guilt topped with a cheesy layer of frustration would probably be the closest recipe. They both looked up when he walked in, greeting him with mismatched smiles.
"Hi, dad!" Charlie said brightly. Vaggie only nodded, offering a quiet, "Sir."
"Hey, guys," Lucifer said easily. "What's cookin'? I mean, obviously nothing is yet." He hoped.
"Hopefully nothing." The echo of his thoughts came from the other side of the room as Alastor melted into existence.
"Alastor!" Charlie hopped to her feet and darted over to him, ignoring his surprise to hug him so enthusiastically he was forced to take a step back for balance, "I'm so glad you came!"
The flash of discomfort that crossed Alastor's face was so brief Lucifer might've imagined it and it went a long way towards banishing the spark of jealousy from Charlie throwing hugs his way. He watched Alastor pat Charlie on the back without a hint of his uneasiness showing, but Lucifer was getting to be a quick study in the language of Alastor's body even outside the bedroom and to him it was obvious; the slightly tense line of his shoulders, the brief flick of his eyes to stare at the opposite wall, he was deeply uncomfortable and not saying a word.
These days Lucifer was so accustomed to being allowed to touch he'd forgotten Alastor disliked it when it was unexpected. His blanket permission didn't seem to extend to his daughter but still Alastor made no move to end the hug prematurely and when Charlie finally let him go, his step backwards out of reach was subtle.
It made him appreciate his all-access pass even more. That was trust, right? Some version of it. Not that Alastor didn't trust him, he did, in his own way; trusted him with his body from the get-go, at least, and slowly extending into other areas. Like his pocket dimension and certain memories, a trickle of information instead of a flood and that was all right, the needle was moving. They'd get there.
"Okay, before we get going, Vaggie has something she'd like to say," Charlie announced.
Vaggie's expression very much said that 'like' didn't enter into the equation at all. She stepped up, hands clenched together in front of her and said, almost in a monotone, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I had no right to dictate Charlie and Lucifer's preferences by telling you to leave."
Alastor's grin was one of purest enjoyment, yeah, okay, he only disliked certain apologies. That tracked. When squirming with discomfort was the main attraction of course he'd want a front row seat.
"Of course, my dear," Alastor said with saccharine consolation. He patted Vaggie on the arm and the way he wiped his hand off on his coat afterward was only marginally discreet. "Admitting one's many mistakes makes you a bigger person, it's quite all right."
A little on the dickish side and the sad trombone sound effect was definitely overkill, but enough for them to put this whole thing behind them and actually, you know, cook in the kitchen. But to Lucifer's surprise, Vaggie persisted, more sincerely, "It's not all right. You've done a lot for the hotel and the reasons why don't matter as much as the fact that you're doing it."
Some of Alastor's vicious enjoyment faded into something closer to confused discomfort. "Your apology is accepted, no need to drag this out further."
From the mutinous expression on Vaggie's face, she thought there was plenty of reason to drag things out; she was apologizing, by God, and she was doing it until she was done.
Before Vaggie could say anything else, Lucifer stepped in. He'd failed to help Alastor before, he wasn't failing again and, sure, maybe he didn't need Lucifer's protection, didn't mean a little distraction wasn't in order.
"Great!" Lucifer said heartily. "Now that that's out of the way, let's get cooking!" He turned hastily to his daughter, yep, apologies done and over with, plant a tree on it and leaf. "Charlie, I have a present for you."
She lit up. "A present? For me?"
She sounded so surprised, bordering on shocked, that a new ache started up in Lucifer's chest. When was the last time he got her a present? He wasn't sure. He always called her on her birthday, occasionally the day after, and on one horrible, all-too memorable occasion a month late, and he didn't want to think about that right now. He conjured up the book, now neatly wrapped, and handed it over into her eager hands. "Actually. it's from me and Alastor, it was his idea."
"Nonsense," Alastor said firmly. "I only saw it first."
That was generous beyond measure and Lucifer flashed him a grateful look, the slide of Alastor's eyes against his own warming him.
Charlie tore the paper away impatiently and as it turned out, her happiness could get even brighter.
"Oh," Charlie breathed and from her awed delight one would think it was expensive jewelry or a new car instead of a simple, silly cookbook. But then, neither of those things were important to her and it wasn't actually about the book at all, was it, it was the meaning beneath it, the teasing affection and Alastor had understood it. Understood it and shared it with Lucifer, and god, Lucifer loved him.
Charlie's eyes were shining as she paged through the recipes, her mouth moving silently as she read the titles. Vaggie peered around her at the pages with more suspicion, probably making sure that since Alastor had a hand in that none of them listed long pig as an ingredient.
Long before she reached the end, Charlie broke, and simply clasped the book to her chest, lower lip trembling on the verge of tears as she said, "Thank you, both of you."
Lucifer was verging on tears of his own, equally touched by her delight and regretful that a simple gift of a book caused it. He was still struggling to swallow around the lump in his throat when Alastor stepped up, not to Charlie but to him.
"Speaking of unexpected gifts," Alastor said and the slyness in his tone did not bode well, loving him did not mean ignoring his propensity to be a shit. "I found this in my studio. Considering your preference to not leave them lying around, I thought you might like it back."
Before Lucifer could ask him what he meant, Alastor waved empty fingers in front of Lucifer's eyes and then plucked something from the air with the delicacy of a street magician choosing the ace of hearts, holding it up.
Caught between two of Alastor's fingers was one of his feathers, gleaming purest white even in this light.
"How…" Lucifer began, trailing off, his cheeks warming as he remembered exactly how a feather of his might've ended up in Alastor's studio. If he was going to pop wings every other time he came, he'd need to pay closer attention.
"I'm afraid you missed one, my dear," Alastor said, oozing cozening smarm. "You should keep better track, why, if I hadn't found it, heaven knows what might have happened!"
Yeah, because so many of their patrons were eager to sneak into any of Alastor's spaces.
(Well one might be and Lucifer was absolutely not thinking about it right now.)
This was unquestionably about him being a shit in front of Charlie and Vaggie, and Lucifer was giving him a pass this one time on the grounds that pushing him into the pond this morning was slightly over the top. But this was the last one.
"Thank you." Lucifer snatched it away and it vanished in a flash of light in his palm.
"Wait, was that one of his fucking feathers?" Vaggie demanded. Because of course she did, why can't anything ever be easy.
The flick of Alastor's eyes in her direction was surprisingly scathing, as was his words, hm, maybe her apology wasn't completely accepted after all. "I hardly think that is any of your business."
"It's really not," Lucifer said. He wasn't too surprised to be summarily ignored. Why was it when these two got going he and Charlie ended up looking like spectators at a tennis match?
Vaggie, with the carelessness of an angel who still hadn't learned the hard lesson that they could be hurt or killed, stepped up to Alastor, craning her neck to look up at him. "I think it's plenty of everyone's business that you of all people had one of his feathers."
"Me of all people?" Alastor yawned briefly, baring his teeth far more than necessary. "What does that even mean? I hear it so often. Please, do explain how I have ever endangered the hotel or its contents?"
"Who the hell knows what schemes you have hidden away," Vaggie snarled, ignoring Charlie's distressed attempts to at least mediate.
Alastor only offered a derisive laugh. "Are you lecturing me about keeping secrets? You?"
Vaggie flinched and, ouch, that one went right in the net. "Okay, that's--that's true. But it doesn't explain the feather."
"Vaggie, it's not a big deal," Charlie started, still trying to step in. She slid a comforting arm around Vaggie's shoulders, a referee trying to tug her fighter back to their corner.
Vaggie swung around to look at her in disbelief. "Babe, with all due respect that your dad can choose his own relationships, it is very much a big deal."
It was Lucifer's turn to horde the disbelief, "This is you letting me choose my own relationships? I'd hate to see what interfering looks like!"
Alastor ignored that and gave her a narrow look. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It doesn't mean anything!" Lucifer snapped. Fucking hell, this was why he holed up in his workshop for years on end, no one knew how to mind their own fucking business.
Proven by the way Vaggie's disbelieving look swung around to put him in the focus as she demanded, "You think exposing your essence to him is meaningless?"
"I don't understand," Charlie said, confused, "You let me touch your wings and it was…" she went a little pink which, ugh, yeah, same, kid. "It was nice, but you didn't act like it was a big deal."
"My wings aren't the same as they used to be," Vaggie admitted. "But they were never like his, I know my hierarchy of angels. A seraphim's wings aren't an addition like mine are, they're part of their essence, with them from their creation."
"We are not discussing this," Lucifer said sharply, temper surging. "I do not answer to the likes of you."
"You might consider answering to me," Alastor said thinly. His eyes were cold crimson, bloody chips of ice. "What does she mean exposing your essence? Angelic feathers are rare but hardly unknown, particularly directly after an Extermination."
"You think those feathers compare to his?" Vaggie shook her head, "I'm a low tier angel, he was the highest in the order of Seraphim. In terms of power, you're comparing a Duracell battery to the sun."
"Okay, that's enough!" Lucifer snapped and for the second time that day he gave in to the whispering urge of his demonic side, let his horns sprout forth, his tale whipping agitatedly around his feet and the taste of ashes on his breath as he said harshly. "What does it even matter, he's not selling feather pillows on the down low, he gave it back! Why are you making this into something it's not!"
The irony of leaning into his demonic nature over concerns about his angelic side were not lost on him.
Three sets of eyes turned to him, one pair hot with temper, another's anger wintry cold despite his own demonic heat, and the third, Charlie's eyes, only anxious and unhappy, hating the arguments as a whole.
The kitchen door swung open unexpectedly and all four of them whipped around to see Angel poking his head in. "Is dinner gonna be ready before bedtime today? 'Cause some of us worked all day and—?" he paused, eyes flicking from person to person, taking in the variety of expressions, horns, tails, etc. He pursed his lips, holding up two hands in surrender. "You know what, I'm good. Take your time."
"We don't need any time because we are done discussing this," Lucifer said with a hefty dose of finality. "Vaggie, and I'm saying this as your potential father-in-law, this is none of your business. Drop it, now."
Vaggie's mouth twisted with a sucking-a-lemon pucker, but she nodded curtly. That expression changed to something like remorse when she turned to Charlie, who only took her hand silently, yeah, Lucifer suspected there was going to be more talks there. Good, because his forgiving nature was only going to last so long.
Then he resignedly turned to Alastor for his own potential talk. Alastor, who was waiting more or less impatiently, leaning against the barrier of his microphone. "Look, if you want to talk about this later, we can. Privately."
Alastor looked down at him, not quite as far as usual, and what emotions were lurking behind the coolness of his eyes was a mystery. "Fine," Alastor said at last, lifting his chin. "A discussion about withholding information might well be in order."
Oh, honey. If he meant it, this was warming up to be one hell of a talk. As if Alastor had any high ground to speak of when it came to keeping secrets, good God all mighty, the bar was so low it was working double duty as a speed bump.
"Agreed," Lucifer said, low, and he didn't miss the flare in Alastor's eyes at the demonic roughness in his voice. Yeah, that needed exploring and soon.
He pointedly did not look at his daughter or Vaggie and could only hope they had the decency to return the favor.
Alastor cleared his throat as if he hadn't just been thinking filthy, horrible things about him in front of Charlie. "In any case, I don't appreciate engaging in," he paused, considering, and went with a delicate, "activities, without full disclosure."
"Does that mean you won't do it again?" Lucifer murmured.
"Let's not overreact," Alastor said under his breath, then louder. "Now, let's put this book to use."
He held out a hand and the book floated into it, pages turning until it settled on a recipe. Before he could dive in, Lucifer waved a hand, too, snapping his fingers.
"Here, I also got you a present," Lucifer said brightly. Actually, he just formed an apron in a gross overuse of his powers, if only because things created that way didn't last; it was good for temporary usage but eventually the cohesion would overextend itself and it would dissolve back into the atoms he'd used to create it. Using bits of created fabrication alongside physically material parts was always better, the tangible combined with the metaphysical worked as a stabilizer, but there was a dual purpose here: One, the apron had 'Kiss the Cook but Don't Touch the Buns' written on it in bold, scarlet font. Two, it wasn't going to fit very well over his coat.
Alastor visibly hesitated, nose wrinkling, before accepting the 'gift'. Slowly, he stripped off his coat and Lucifer did not miss that subtle tucking in again at the pocket area as he hung it on one of the hooks by the door, before looping apron neck strap over his head.
"You're too kind," Alastor told him, with the gritted enthusiasm of one headed to their own execution. Honestly, even if it hadn't worked to get his coat off, it would have been worth it to see Alastor swallowing back what was probably a wheelbarrow full of insults in the interest of cooking harmony. For all that Lucifer tended to ask him to be good, teasingly or otherwise, Alastor was probably being the best behaved person here. He deserved a real present, and soon, Lucifer would have to think on it.
In the meantime, he was committing this to his memory until he had a chance to sketch it, Alastor in Apron, done in pencil. Boom.
"It looks great, doesn't it, Alastor!" Charlie said eagerly.
"Great," Alastor echoed unenthusiastically. "Shall we get started, then? Here's the recipe I suggest, I've already checked we have all the ingredients."
"Shepherd's pie," Charlie read aloud, curiously enthused.
"With real shepherds?" Lucifer muttered under his breath. He wasn't looking to try out the sheep herders' guild, but he'd side with Alastor if the meat in question turned out to be mutton.
Alas, no one paid his cannibal joke any mind, looked like you had to be one for a cannibal joke to get any traction.
"I suggest we make several smaller ones rather than one large to speed the cooking time," Alastor said. He turned to Lucifer and Vaggie, his smile twisting to tooth-achingly sweet. "We're going to need a great deal of potatoes, why don't you to start peeling?"
And that was how Lucifer ended up sitting at the table, peeler in hand, as he scraped strips of potato skin into the communal trashcan. At the counter, Alastor and Charlie were bent over the book and whatever they were whispering was unheard beneath the uneven rhythm of two peelers scraping away.
Vaggie set her third naked potato into the bowl on the table. "I owe you an apology, too, sir."
He only spared Vaggie a glance, more concerned with the status of his fingers vis-à-vis the peeler blade at the moment. "It's Lucifer. And if you're going for apologies, you might consider making a list."
"I won't apologize for being concerned about Alastor having access to your wings," Vaggie said stoutly, and hey, give her some credit for sticking to her guns, anyway. "But I am sorry I was so rude yesterday. I just…Charlie was so excited about getting to spend time with you, all I could see was Alastor interfering with that. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but it wasn't on me to step in and I'm sorry I did."
"Accepted." Lucifer wasn't like those angels up in heaven, holding grudges. Vaggie was a pain in his neck, ass, and other various parts at times, but fuck it, her heart was in the right place, right over there with Charlie. He nudged her with his elbow. "You know, you really make Charlie happy."
Her smile was pained, almost doubtful, and Lucifer didn't like to see it. "I hope so."
Lucifer knew the bare bones of her story, how she rejected being an Exorcist and ended up trapped in Hell, another fallen angel in the ranks. He didn't blame her for her past, no one knew better than him how brutally vindictive Heaven could be. She must've been so afraid in the beginning; he knew exactly how that was, how terribly alone and uncertain, away from his angelic brothers and sisters, no matter how cruel they could be. Suddenly he was glad Charlie found her and helped ease that pain and fear, finding love together here in Hell.
"You do, I can see it, it's as obvious as the nose on your face," Lucifer said. He tapped his own lack of nose teasingly and Vaggie smiled for him. It was a nice smile. Then he said, more seriously, "It's easier to be in Hell when you have your own slice of Heaven down here."
Vaggie's smile turned wry. "Yeah, I guess we both do a lot better with our own version of Heaven than the original."
Oh. He hadn't meant Alastor, only her and Charlie.
But.
Lucifer turned to watch them together, a blond head and a crimson one close together as they talked, and Lucifer didn't hear what Alastor told her only that a sly smile was included. He watched his daughter laugh, watched her mouth, 'oh, you!' and give Alastor a light shove.
"I guess we do," Lucifer said softly. Then he shook his head and went determinedly back to his peeling. "Okay, now, let's prove we can do our part, yeah?"
Vaggie's smile shifted to one that was oddly shy, for once, all this practice with Alastor's smiles was giving him an unexpected linguistical boost. "All right," Vaggie said, quietly, "…Lucifer."
Hey, it was a start.
Lucifer went back to his peeling, listening to Alastor and Charlie's soft murmurs, and managed not to look at the coat hanging in the far corner, not even once.
-tbc
Notes:Thank you all so much for still reading and commenting! I know I've slowed it down a little but I'm still here, we'll get to the end together and probably mostly intact when we get there! 😉
Please check out the adorable art oberveroftheinfinite made for this chapter!!
Chapter 2Notes:I'm so sorry. 😭
There were plenty of things that Lucifer did that he didn't need to do. Strictly speaking, there wasn't much of anything he needed to do. If he so chose, he could go curl up in the void for a few thousand years and listen to the crackling heat death of the universe; a little boring, maybe, but he could. The difference between needing to do something and wanting to, ah, well, humans were better at exploiting that than he was but hey, he gave it a good try. Too many things he did so often that he'd grown accustomed to them and now if he gave them up, he'd have to spend a little time remembering how to exist without them; breathing, sleeping. Sex was newer on the list and quickly asserting itself, rising in the ranks. Eating was also high on the list, and along with it, cooking. It was a fantastic gift and such an easy rabbit hole to fall down as an angel, even a former one, one of the easier routes of creation. The simple joy of following a recipe to its divine conclusion, the disappointment of watching one fall to disaster, a soufflé that collapsed or a sauce that split into blobs of sadness.
On his worse days, Lucifer forgot how much he honestly enjoyed cooking and here at the hotel, he was learning that creating delicious food was even better when you had more people to cook for. It was satisfying in a different way than other forms of creation. When he made a meal here, he could share it, watch his little pseudo-family consume his creation and nourish their bodies and souls, and none of them ever suspected the depths of his appreciation. It was a quiet, secret gift he could give and they'd be none the wiser.
He wasn't sure exactly what Alastor got out of sharing his cooking, whether it was something like him, being able to care for others indirectly or if he simply liked to show off, lording his chef-y superiority over the lesser cooks. Either or both were possible or maybe something else entirely, but whatever it was, quiet was not any part of it. Alastor had advice and opinions, and he was not shy about sharing them.
It was definitely a sight to see and Lucifer would have been content to watch for some little while yet, even if for some reason he lost sight of Alastor's trim little backside.
Was it possible to be addicted to staring at someone's ass? Asking for a friend.
Now that the shepherd's pies were baking, he and Vaggie had been recruited to pit cherries, and it was slow going, both their hands stained a deep purplish-red. Interesting these were in the fridge; fresh fruit could be hard to come by in Hell except for apples, one of God's little ironies, and Lucifer decided he didn't want to know who brought these or how. He also wasn't sure what Alastor intended to use them for, but he was running the show and all but glowing from their constant attention. Telling stories, making puns and jokes, and even, rarely, sending a flirty glance or tease his way. Even Vaggie reluctantly smiled from time to time and once clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, leaving a stain of dark red fingerprints on her cheek.
Another moment of pure happiness in a day filled with such moments and Lucifer loved them all.
It was just a shame he was probably going to be the one to ruin it, all over a game of 'what's in my pocket?'. Gollum was right, worst riddle ever.
With the pies out of the way, Alastor moved on to another lesson and while Lucifer and Vaggie pitted away, he was teaching Charlie how to make biscuits while she watched raptly.
Not that long ago, Lucifer thought he might be jealous of her attentiveness but all he felt right now was a certain comforting warmth in his middle.
How much time had any of them spent with Alastor that wasn't hotel business or enforced game nights? Not much, he guessed, and it was good for them to do other things together, things that weren't work or forced social interaction. Lucifer wanted them to see more of Alastor, to see what Lucifer was allowed to see, the genuine humor and the delightful cleverness he so often kept hidden behind the Radio Demon, ah ha ha, shield.
He wanted them to understand Alastor wasn't all that difficult to love.
Vaggie was going to be a tougher sell, he knew that, but Charlie was obviously warming to him even more than their past levels of friendship. Protecting the hotel earned him some of her loyalty, but his mother's recipe for biscuits might commit her for life.
(do not betray that, betray her, keep that favor tucked away, don't)
Charlie was peering into a large bowl, watching Alastor mix its contents by hand. "How much flour do you use?"
"About enough," Alastor said, teasingly light and when Charlie playfully poked her tongue out at him, Lucifer thought he might collapse at the cramp of affection in his chest for them both. Alastor relented and said, "I'm afraid I really couldn't say, I'm not much for measurements. For a new recipe, perhaps, but I've made these so often over the years I could likely do it blindfolded."
"Is that a challenge?" Lucifer called teasingly. Blindfolded cookery was certainly in the upper echelon of kinks.
Alastor only slanted him a disapproving glare.
"My dear, if you're going to keep making bets with me, you may wish to pace yourself." Strong words from the guy whose new apron was liberally decorated with the flour in question, with a tempting smudge right on the tip of his pert little nose.
"Now then," Alastor said, returning his attention to the bowl. "Mustn't overmix or they'll be better suited for dog treats than for our consumption. Biscuits are like people, my mother used to say, one must never be too kneady, aha!"
Vaggie let out a small groan, but she was smiling, a little. A positive sign in Lucifer's books.
Alastor dumped the contents of the bowl out on the counter, a small cloud of flour rising.
"And here we are! You could use a pastry cutter to make rounds, if you have such a thing. My mama always used an old tuna can with both sides cut out. But in a pinch, it's perfectly acceptable to simply cut into squares." He demonstrated with a brisk flick of the chef's knife and it was probably best not to inquire where he learned his knife skills.
Lucifer was paying close attention, that mention of his mama rather than 'mother' was sending up flags of interest. But he was also glancing at Alastor's coat where it hung innocently by the door. There had to be a way to get into those pockets before Alastor could stop him. He was under no illusion that Alastor wouldn't be angry, that was practically a guarantee. What Lucifer was counting on was his declaration that only Lucifer forcing him to leave could get rid of him. It might make for an uncomfortable night or even two if Alastor was really in a snit, but so long as his pajamas stayed, it would be all right. He needed to know what was going on. There were enough mysteries floating around without adding the Case of the Freaky Pockets.
Meanwhile, Alastor was nestling his biscuits together on a pan. "You can use a round or a square pan, that's not important. What isn't optional is making sure they are touching on whichever you choose."
"Won't that make them stick?" Charlie asked hesitantly.
"Right you are, well-observed, you!" Alastor said and Charlie beamed. "It does, and that is exactly the point. By touching, they help each other climb the way a drowning person would climb a would-be rescuer."
"Or how friends help lift each other up!" Charlie corrected with only a slightly awkward titter. She clapped her hands together hopefully and Vaggie smiled while Alastor rolled his eyes. Lucifer didn't have a chance to come up with a proper reaction, he was looking at Alastor's coat again and…was it moving?
"Hnn, I suppose," Alastor said, reluctantly indulgent. "In any case, when they are touching, they will rise higher. Now, into a very hot oven until they are golden brown, ten minutes, perhaps." He went to the sink and washed the floury coating from his hands, drying them on a dish towel, and didn't seem to notice the long, thin line of blackness creeping from his coat pocket like the leg of an oversized spider, what the unholy fuck…?
"These will offer some succor to the empty bellies out there until the pies are finished," Alastor declared. "I would have trimmed the timeframe more and gone with cathead biscuits, but I thought it best to start traditional. Besides those are better served with a generous helping of sausage gravy."
By now Vaggie also noticed the strangeness of Alastor's coat. She opened her mouth to say something and Lucifer made a subtle slashing motion across his throat, abort abort, wait for it to play out. If it were something bad, Lucifer could handle it and if it were something really bad he could still handle it but with extra property damage.
Vaggie narrowed her eyes but nodded, tossing another cherry pit into the trash bin.
Charlie was leaning against the counter, carefully paging through her new book. "So if you don't usually measure, what made you get me a cookbook?"
"I don't usually measure, you should always do so until you've gotten some experience," Alastor corrected. "Once you've gained some confidence, a cookbook will merely be a stepping stone to creating one's own dishes. Recipes are elastic, they can be changed, improved, for example, most recipes that call for a clove of garlic can often stand a far more robust addition of three, perhaps four, and don't get me started on red pepper flakes, ugh, if I see another recipe that calls for a mere pinch, I might not be responsible for my actions."
Charlie only nodded, wide-eyed as if she was absorbing his every word like sinner gospel. Lucifer kept his opinions to himself, partly because so far he agreed but mostly because he was staring at the blackness squirming and twisting free of Alastor's pocket. Wait, was that his shadow?Squashed down to barely more than a pencil-thin fragment, squeezing out like inky toothpaste from a cursed tube as it frantically slithered its way free from its…what? Jail? Holding place? Home?
Only he and Vaggie were paying attention to what was now the Great Pocket Escape, Alastor was still on his cooking lesson, "You should know those rules of experimentation don't apply to baking until you have much more experience. Adding more yeast to a recipe than is required can end with surprisingly monstrous results."
"Monstrous?" Charlie repeated, her eyes round.
"Hm, yes. On one occasion I was forced the throw out a bread dough I had rising due to unforeseen circumstances of the bloody sort causing an accidental yeast addition." His reminiscent grin spoke of horrors that he thankfully did not share. "Little did I realize that the warmth of the day combined with greedy yeast would lead it to fill my entire trash bin and overflow, the dough encroached on my garden. It's a good thing I already had some experience in digging holes as burying it was the only way to stop its invasion and I believe it did wonders next year for the snap peas."
Alastor turned around, wandered over to the table to inspect their progress on the cherries, and Lucifer held his breath as the freed portion of shadow hastily hid beneath the coat collar. He looked reasonably pleased at their slowly filling bowl and as he turned back to the countertop, Alastor absently brushed his cool fingers along the back of Lucifer's neck making him fight the urge to squirm at the ticklish sensation. He'd been doing that more and more during the whole cooking process. Hesitantly at first, wary of reactions, then more often, Alastor brushing past him, giving his upper arm a gentle squeeze or his shoulder a pat.
This time he caught hold of Alastor's wrist with cherry-sticky fingers, raising a brow at him.
Alastor only mirrored the expression, brat that he was, and Lucifer decided to take it as an unspoken, 'yes, my darling Lucifer, whatever is it that you need from me?'
He pursed his lips just a little and made a kissy sound. Worth it for the way Alastor's nose wrinkled in disgust. But he didn't escape, didn't yank his arm away, didn't protest by word or deed.
His eyes flicked briefly to Charlie, to Vaggie, both of whom were pointedly not looking although only his daughter had a secret little smile. Then Alastor ducked down to brush a light kiss over Lucifer's mouth, a brief, damp press of lips.
He drew back enough to look Lucifer in the eyes, smirking.
"Happy?" Alastor murmured.
"Ecstatic," Lucifer assured him and he did not let himself look at the shadow renewing its struggle behind Alastor's back.
Alastor went back to the counter and left Lucifer with the cherries, not knowing his attention was torn in two between watching the Shadow Redemption and the literal version of Hell's Kitchen. He had to admit, at least to himself, that as much as he was honestly enjoying watching these two at the menu, it was also something of a silent apology for yesterday, more so than his original cooking intention and Lucifer did ache a little for a daddy/daughter chance of his own.
Enough so that he spoke up, "If you want to learn how to make bread, sweetie, we could do it before tomorrow's yoga class? That would give it time to proof and bake before dinner."
Charlie lit up as bright as the living sun she'd never seen. "Good idea, dad. Speaking of classes, have you given any thought to that art class I mentioned."
Oh. Uh. That question derailed his thoughts at the station and Lucifer scrambled for an answer, finally settling on the truth.
"I haven't had a chance," he admitted. With everything going on it hadn't even made it to the bottom of his list. Charlie only nodded and didn't press but support came suddenly from an unanticipated source.
"I think that's an excellent idea," Alastor said unexpectedly.
To say he hadn't thought Alastor of all people to support any of the therapy lessons was an understatement of the likes of 'lava can fry an egg' or 'the sky is on the pinkish side'.
"Really?" Lucifer said doubtfully. Seemed to him that another shoe was about to drop here and with his luck, it'd hit him on the head.
"Of course," Alastor replied. He was busy measuring out dollops of lard for a second biscuit batch. The smell of the first batch baking was already filling the kitchen with their deliciously rich aroma. "Unless you'd prefer to continue whiling away your days helping Niffty change the sheets?"
"Ha, ha." Lucifer sank down in his chair, scowling, watching shadowman squirm and wriggle in the corner.
"Mm, amusing as an idea, perhaps, but I'm quite serious. Your talents are being wasted as a chambermaid, why not contribute in a way that embraces your skills. You're quite the talented artist."
For a second, Lucifer forgot shadows, cooking, and even the presence of others in the room. Hearing about Alastor's appreciation for his art while he was drunk on the floor of a closet was one thing, it was something else entirely while he was sober and thoughtful, almost absently telling Lucifer what he simply saw as a truth.
Alastor wasn't even looking at him, guiding Charlie through making a second batch of biscuits and it was a good thing, his shadow seemed to have squirmed most of the way free and now it was moving agitatedly, dancing and flittering along the far wall.
He wasn't the only one looking, Vaggie wasn't even pretending to pit cherries anymore, watching the shadow warily.
"What's it doing?" Vaggie whispered, a bare breath of sound.
Lucifer only shook his head. The shadow was visibly straining, pulling, but it only came clear what it was doing when the coat fell off the hook and landed on the floor with a soft flump.
The three of them froze, waiting to see if Alastor noticed. But his attention was on getting the biscuits out of the oven and Lucifer crept over to pick it up. Now, what could be so important—
He'd only barely gotten the coat up from the floor when the sudden piercing shriek of radio static nearly made him drop it again.
"What are you doing?" Alastor asked sharply, looking impressively menacing for someone wearing oven mitts in the shape of fish.
"Nothing, it—" fell didn't even make it to air. Alastor shoved the biscuits, mitts and all, on the countertop, stalking over and ripping the coat away from him hard enough to burn the tips of his fingers.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your dirty hands off my clothing for once!" He was already inspecting the coat, glowering over a tiny cherry-red print on the lapel. "Look at this! I just had it dry cleaned and it's already a mess again!"
Lucifer winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"You never mean!," Alastor interrupted with a snarl, "You never, ever mean, you simply continue to push and push where you have no right!"
Whoa, that was a serious overreaction. He'd known Alastor would be angry if he got caught inspecting the pockets, but all this from only touching his coat? Either Alastor was on a serious projecting kick or he was saying whatever thoughts hit his brain first.
Whatever it was, it was enough to rile Lucifer's own temper. "Excuse me? This from the guy who stole my underwear!"
He only distantly heard Charlie murmur an aside to Vaggie, "He did what to his underwear?"
Gobsmacked was the only word that properly described Alastor's expression, hot splotches of crimson rising in his cheeks as he sputtered out, "It's not the same!"
"I like to think the garment I store my balls in is pretty damn important!" Lucifer snapped. "Besides, I was wearing your coat last night while you were hiding in the closet and you didn't care!"
Vaggie muttered, "As if either of them were ever near a closet."
Fuck's sake, this was a bad enough argument without having a Greek chorus tossing in their opinions.
Worse, she didn't pitch her voice nearly low enough. Alastor heard and gave her a scathing glare, teeth clenched in a bloody grimace.
"I'm near a closet every morning when I change my clothes!" Alastor hissed at her before swinging back to Lucifer, "And I wasn't thinking last night, your taking advantage of my inebriation is no excuse!"
Okay. Taking advantage of his inebriation was seriously overstating things and ignored that Alastor stole his sketchbook first. But this, this wasn't just hypocrisy, this was wrong. Already Lucifer's own anger was draining into confusion. This didn't make sense, all of this over a coat Alastor never shied away from him touching before? Where was the calm patience he'd been growing accustomed to, where was the understanding, the care. This was more like things had been back at the beginning when they fought over everything, not how they were now, and Lucifer did not like it at all.
This was not about a coat.
Whatever Lucifer's cooling temperament, Alastor did not share it. His antlers were starting to elongate, the sclera of his eyes darkening, blackening to void-dark, and the swamp-green glow of unknown symbols was starting to appear on the walls, swirling like the worst version of a disco ball in known existence.
Vaggie scowled, "Hey, calm down, asshole!"
She shifted in her seat and if it was her intention to reach for her spear, Lucifer didn't wait to find out. He stepped between her and Alastor's growing form and called up his own horns, glaring at her.
"You stay out of this!" Lucifer snapped and his voice echoed through three surrounding dimensions. "This is between us!"
For the first time since he'd met her, Vaggie cowered, cringing back against Charlie who was abruptly next to her, her own demonic form in full force as she wrapped her arms around her lover.
So much for happy times together.
"Okay, okay," Lucifer held up both hands in surrender, mostly looking at Alastor but keeping an eye on the girls. "Everyone take a deep breath here. Alastor, going forward, I won't touch your coat, yeah?"
For one endless moment it was as if they were teetering on a cliff side. Then Alastor took a step back, diminishing, as he shook out his coat. "See that you don't."
Yeah. This absolutely wasn't about a coat, Mister Shadowman's agitation meant something was wrong and the path to finding out what wasn't going to bring anyone much happiness.
"I need to go," Alastor said. He was already stripping off his apron, heedless of the way his hair fluffed up, and yanking his coat on with quick, jerky movements.
"Go?" Charlie echoed unhappily even as Vaggie spoke up indignantly. "We aren't done, what did we pit all these cherries for!"
He jabbed a finger towards the counter. "Pour them into the buttered casserole over there, sprinkle on the streusel topping, moderate oven for twenty minutes."
"I didn't understand half that!" Charlie complained.
"I did," Lucifer said quietly. He didn't touch Alastor, didn't invade his space. He didn't need it verbalized to know his blanket invitation to touch was temporarily revoked. "Leave if you need to, we'll take care of it."
"Good," Alastor said curtly, "I'll return for dinner."
He swept out, heels clicking on the tile floor and the door swinging on its hinge after he forcefully pushed his way through. His shadow unwillingly followed along, claws scrabbling at the floor and walls as it dragged along behind him.
They all stood in silence for a long moment, the warm smell of fresh biscuits slowly overshadowing the faint, rotten green.
"That went well," Vaggie said disgustedly. "What the fuck was that all about, does he do that often?"
"No, he does not," Lucifer said tiredly. That was not how he wanted them to spend time with Alastor, not at all. "He's actually astonishingly patient and tolerant of my bullshit. I don't like to imagine how pissed he's going to be when he realizes I already picked his pocket."
Alastor's coat pockets were unsurprisingly deep; considering he managed to fit an entire bayou in his hotel room, extending his pocket space probably wasn't much of a chore. The first thing his fingers touched was what Lucifer grabbed and he held up his hand, revealing a small scroll resting on his palm.
"Dad!" Charlie hissed, horrified. "You can't keep spying on him! You know what happened last time!"
"Do I know what happened last time?" Vaggie asked.
"A little," Charlie laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head. "It was sort of complicated." Her pretty face twisted at the memory, gee, wonder why she didn't tell Vaggie that Alastor exploded a cursed artifact that nearly maimed them both. Her guilt over it was obvious, but it didn't stop her from coming closer, poor kid really was a chip off the old block. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure," Lucifer said, inspecting it carefully, "but Mister Shadowman has been trying to get me to see it all day. I think."
Huh. The scroll was carefully tied closed with intricately knotted twine bound with a wax seal, and the symbol on it was his own.
Yeah, this is an official document written on monkshood and asphodel paper tied off with stinging nettle rope and notarized as such, and as King of Hell, he didn't need permission to see it.
But the seal complicated matters. Lucifer never bothered much with all the bureaucracy of Hell, mostly because it was a pain in the ass, but he knew a binding contract when he saw one.
But binding what? And to who?
"Is that," Charlie swallowed hard and asked unhappily, "is that a deal? Like for his…for a soul?"
"No," Lucifer said. He gave the wax seal a poke with his fingertip and a blue spark snapped as it reacted to his power. "You'll forgive me for saying it, but deals for sinner souls are almost always handled at the lower level of administration, a single soul simply isn't important enough to warrant much scrutiny, not even an Overlord's. This is the kind of document that would end up on my desk." Not that he bothered to read them much, but they'd end up there, eventually, along with junk mail and high interest credit card brochures, Hell did love its petty punishments.
"Why would he have something like that?" Charlie asked hesitantly.
"Not sure. But I'm going find out." From the way the lights flickered along with the sudden eldritch screech in the distance, he suspected the 'finding out' part would be very soon.
A happy day in Hell, indeed.
tbc
Chapter 3Notes:I'm still sorry. 😭
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Lucifer knew what Alastor was capable of, he'd seen it a handful of times now. They all had, it was kind of hard to miss when any given rampage could happen downtown and involve the destruction of a beloved local donut shoppe. He gave the appearance of a charming, debonair demon around town, but he had a temper worthy of Hell and more than once it'd been directed Lucifer's way.
Not so often these days, Lucifer would be first in line to point that out. He'd actually been almost unreasonably understanding even at times Alastor probably deserved to be pissed off. Lucifer was pushing boundaries like he was working on a hellscout badge for it, and he knew it, he did, that was probably a conversation they should have at some point. Add it to the list, by the time they got around to it, it'd probably take them a century to get through it all.
Funny how that idea was not unappealing.
So, yeah, he knew how Alastor could get when he was pissed off (or overwhelmed but that was another pie that was going to stay uncut for this picnic) and he was braced for it.
But he wasn't afraid. Not even a little and that was nothing to do with the knowledge that he was much, much stronger than Alastor could even dream of being. The other two occupants of the kitchen, however; a fallen angel still adjusting to her new circumstances and his own daughter who certainly had powers but obviously hadn't been taught how to properly use them (add that to his ongoing agenda). They were less than useful here, more like liabilities and honestly, Lucifer needed to start planning better if he was going to be staying here stirring shit up. He couldn't even claim to be out of practice, he'd never really been in. One more thing for the list, he was going to need extra pens if this kept up.
"You should leave," Lucifer told them, "both of you. He can't hurt me." More to the point, Alastor wasn't going to try hurting Lucifer, but he didn't know if he had time to convince them of that. It also didn't matter because he definitely wasn't confident of that assessment when it came to either of them, especially Vaggie considering how little she'd managed to endear herself to Alastor's softer side. He could hear the increasing volume of the approaching static, the fury within it, Alastor was rightfully pissed off and it was on him to deal with it and no one else.
He wasn't particularly surprised to get a matching set of refusals.
"No," Charlie said at the same moment Vaggie said, "Not a chance, sir."
Sir, again, damn it. He'd have to worry about that later, there was plenty of worry heading right for the kitchen door.
"Fine. Then get behind me," Lucifer said, low. "And stay out of this, do you hear me? You can play witness because I might need one, you do not get involved." He didn't wait for them to agree. If it came down to it, he could toss either one of them through a portal to the other side of Pentagram city, not ideal but it would get them out of the way. He closed his hand around the scroll, tucking it behind his back then spread his wings out, shielding them, just as the door exploded inward into splinters, showering them with shrapnel.
Lucifer shook slivers of wood out of his hair, briskly snapping his wings to shake free any fragments. He could feel Alastor's fury and fear crawling over him, projected like a radio wave as he crawled through the doorway, his bloated, oversized form squeezing into the small room, forcing them into a corner as his static-laden voice shrieked.
"̶̯̰̭̍G̶̬̎Ï̸̧̡͙̔̚V̵͖̤̓Ȅ̴̪̒͝ ̴̗̕Ṱ̵̐͑͝ͅȞ̶̡̹͠A̴̢̍̂T̷̻̠̆͆̒ ̸̢̯̭̿̾͊B̸̯̈́͆̾A̶̦̮̒̀C̸̳͎̟̍K̶͕̓͗̓!̷̩̗̘́̐͘"̷͎̅̌͜
The subsonic thrum beneath the words sent a shockwave vibrating through the room, dishes shattering in the cabinets, chairs falling over untouched as the stench of swampy greenness flooded over them. Charlie and Vaggie were both pressed into his back, tangled in his wings and their touch was muted, shielded behind layers and layers of his power, he'd only ever laid them bare for one person and that one was currently looming in front of him, glaring at him from this twisted, unspeakable version of his face, torn apart and sewn back together by uncaring hands, his smile a tacked-on mask, and the insanity of his eyes bleeding red.
Lucifer looked up into crazed, crimson-bright eyes and said firmly, "Tell me what it is."
"̶̖̈́̀̈́̅͝I̴͕̼̫͒̍̅͗̏T̸̲͚̘͔́͊̈'̵̢̫̞̦̚̚S̴͚͔̭̿̽̓̍͜ ̴̫̰̏̊M̴̗̳̿̎̃̓͘I̶̡̥̩̘̣̓̓̕N̷̡̖̝͖̏̈̆E̶̡̓̄!̶̤̹̭̯̂̊̄̚̚ ̶̨͍̤̋͑̋͊̓G̶͕̭͊͜I̵̼͉̮̖͉̊̆͆̈͐V̷͚̺̬͒E̸̳̗͕̥͒͜ ̷̫̹̙̯̳͒͝Ï̸̺͔̩͍͛̕T̸̳̮̠̓́̆̽̀ͅ ̴̙͚̰͍̽̓Ḇ̸̐̕̕͝A̷͍͊̈́̉̿̄C̵̳͍͇̯͌K̸͇͎͍͙͋͛̇̋!̶̻̭̫͉͆"̵̡͂̿̄ ̴͈̮̱̈́̿̊͜
The words came not from Alastor's sewn-shut mouth but rather plucked from his mind and tossed into the air between them until it could slam right in the middle of Lucifer's forehead. It was a deeply uncomfortable way to converse, and Lucifer wasn't about to do this all afternoon, thanks, that was a week's worth of headache he didn't want to deal with.
"Calm down, you're going to crack my skull doing that," Lucifer said, "settle down and we'll talk." Not that he really expected that to work, telling someone to calm down was usually about as effective as preventing forest fires by lighting off fireworks.
But it was marginally more effective when someone had the upper hand and Lucifer did, literally in this case. He could feel the pressure of summoning, Alastor trying to mentally yank the scroll loose. Nothing that Lucifer couldn't block and Alastor's next howl was quieter but no less uncomfortable. "Give it back to me!"
"I will!" The sheering static was getting louder, screeching rapidly through radio frequencies, and Lucifer was forced to shout to be heard. "I will give it back, I swear it on the Seven Rings!" The squealing riot of sound started easing down. "But not until I know what it is."
Instantly the cacophony swelled again, screaming microphone feedback. "No! G̵i̷v̷e̸ ̷i̵t̷ ̵b̶a̵c̴k̵ ̴n̸o̷w̸!̸"
"It has my seal on it, it's an official document of the Pride Ring. I could just open it and read it myself." He wasn't about to do that, but the threat was a good one. He held out his hand, the scroll clenched in his fist and tentacles bounced off the shield surrounding their little corner, unable to break through. Outside his grip, the wax seal dangled from its nettle thread and Lucifer slowly reached for it. The second his fingertip brushed the seal, a blue spark flashed, and anger and panic writhed over him, a visceral phantom touch.
"Don't touch that, ỷ̸̟͉̲͙̝͈̞̀ö̷̰̆́̔̑͂͘u̶̘̿̄̚͝͠ ̸̞̘̻͒͂̈́i̶͚̅m̵̢̩͙̟̘͔̂ͅb̵̲̦́̍͂̏e̷̤̖̾̑̾̚͝c̵̬͉̑̎̔̄i̷̺͆l̸̠̀e̵̡̪͖̣̳̗̽̕̕͜!!" Shrieked directly into his skull and behind him, Vaggie moaned. Lucifer could sympathize, it was pretty fucking uncomfortable for him, and he could sit in the void while the crackling howls of dying suns echoed around him. Hey, he'd told them to leave.
"Tell me what it is. And tone it down, the eardrums of everyone within fifty yards are probably bleeding." A wavering, forlorn note rang out clear as a bell through the raging static. Not just angry then, he was upset, hurt, and Lucifer wanted so much to reach out to him, to soothe a hand over those lashing tentacles, to pull Alastor into his arms as much as he could and gentle away his anger. But he couldn't, not now, not when he was the one causing it. "Alastor, we need to talk, take a deep breath or whatever you're doing right now and calm down. Please."
The swell of his body heaved, expanding, as if the whole of him inhaled, then it reversed, collapsing in on itself until it was only Alastor standing in front of them, sticky blackness still bleeding from his mouth and eyes. His microphone was clenched in his stained fist, pointed at Lucifer like a bloodied knife and he wanted so much to push past it, to pull Alastor into his arms, and couldn't.
Instead, he held up his hand again, the scroll still carefully in his fist. "There. See, I didn't open it."
"Idiot!" Alastor spat. His teeth were stained bloody black, his smile a grimace. "Do you know what you could have done!"
"Only in theory, never actually done it," Lucifer said calmly, "But I do know the broader details. As King of Hell, I can technically open any official document but only after its terms have been completed. If I break the seal to look, whatever is in this document is bound to me instead of its original recipient. So, I'll ask again, what is it?"
He wasn't expecting an answer just yet and Alastor did not offer one. He only demanded again, "Give it back!"
"Not until you tell me."
Alastor's glare cut like splintered glass, "Do not do this."
"It's already done. Part of you wants me to see what this is," Lucifer told him, trying not to be gentle. It would not be appreciated, not right now, and he didn't miss the way Alastor's dark gaze flicked briefly to his shadow, crouching like the silhouette of a gargoyle in the corner, "So just tell me. Or I'll open it and take my chances."
Alastor exhaled through gritted teeth and said, "And if it's a decree calling for my death?"
Lucifer's heart seized, skipping beats, but no, if it were that Alastor never would have said it. "Then I suppose I'm dying for you. Aren't I."
They both stood there, each staring each other down, unblinking, a possibly fatal contest of chicken and Lucifer was not about to flinch. But maybe he could bend a little and get some back in return.
"Tell me what it is," Lucifer tried again, coaxingly this time. Maybe silver-tongue was an exaggeration, but Lucifer could be persuasive, especially when he knew exactly what to offer. "And no matter what that is, I'll give it back, right away. No arguing, no delaying tactics."
Alastor let his eyes fall half-closed, looking at Lucifer through his lashes. "How very trusting of you, not to consider I may lie."
"You don't lie to me, not like that," Lucifer said, without a shred of doubt. "Talk to me, you haven't once said you can't talk about it, which means you can. Is it a deal? A contract? What are we looking at here?"
The tension in the room suddenly vanished, a cut string, and every sign of Alastor's connection to his unknown power vanished between blinks. Alastor blew out a huff of breath like this was all simply a terrible inconvenience to him and the remains of the kitchen door weren't scattered at their feet, Vaggie and Charlie still hiding behind Lucifer and possibly wiping blood from their ears. "Very well. It would have been dripping from the gossip's tongues soon enough. It's not a deal or a contract, it's a challenge."
"A challenge?" Lucifer repeated, surprised. That was…well, it wasn't last on his list of suspects only because it never occurred to him to add it to begin with.
"Yes," Alastor lifted his chin, both hands braced on top of his microphone. "If you must know, I'm issuing an official challenge to Vox."
Lucifer was speechless and he heard Charlie make a soft, dismayed sound behind him. Vaggie poked her head out over Lucifer's shoulder, and it reminded him to put away his wings; even shielded as they were, the close contact was discomforting.
"So what?" Vaggie said, more tentative than scoffing, he should have known neither of them would be able to be a silent witness. "What's the big deal? From what I hear you've taken down tons of overlords, I'm sure you can handle it."
Whether she was grudgingly complimenting him or using some kind of investigative tactic Lucifer did not know but either worked.
"Not from an official challenge," Charlie said softly, unhappily. "Those have rules and terms."
"Indeed, they do!" Alastor said. "Which is exactly why I am issuing it!"
"Okay," Vaggie said slowly. "What's an official challenge, I've never heard of that."
"That's because no one ever bothers with them anymore," Charlie said, "Not for a long time. Especially since it's more of a free for all around here since—" Charlie paused, and looked down as she finished, a little quieter. "Since my mom left."
Lucifer clenched his hand, ring digging into his finger and said nothing.
"Yes," Alastor agreed, "I, myself generally prefer a slightly more esoteric approach—"
"You mean stabbing people in the back," Vaggie scoffed.
Alastor's grin was savage, teeth briefly elongating and his eyes flashing dials, "Sweetheart, if they didn't want a knife in their backs then why did they point it in my direction?" His smile eased into something less toothy. "As I was saying, I generally prefer more, shall we say, informal tactics but there's something to be said for the official route. He can either accept the challenge and fight me, or all of Hell will know he refused. Either way, I win."
"What are the terms?" Lucifer asked. Sourness lingered at the back of his throat, refusing to be swallowed away. There were so many options for terms. To the death was only a baseline, the true worth of an official challenge was what happened when the loser didn't die; it could include thousands of years of torture, an exchange of all the souls in their possession, including their own. Most deals for souls could only include their own, but for a challenge? Anything, everything was up for barter. Vox could command Alastor to suck Husk off, live and on the air, and he'd be forced to obey, and that was only the beginning. Worse, a regular deal was binding enough but there were ways around it. It was not easily done but terms could be changed, broken. An official challenge bound both the challenger and the opponent to the terms permanently which was why they were so rarely issued. Why risk losing forever when you could, as Vaggie said, simply stab someone in the back.
What was Alastor even thinking? No wonder his shadow was worried.
"Alastor? Terms?" Lucifer repeated when Alastor said nothing. Another long moment of silence before he replied.
"No," Alastor said finally, narrowing his eyes. "You wanted to know what it is and I told you, I don't have to tell you the terms. Now give it back."
Lucifer closed his eyes briefly, then held out his hand. A deal was a deal, even an unofficial one.
Alastor snatched it away quickly enough to scratch Lucifer's palm, a rill of golden blood welling before the little wound healed. He tucked the scroll into his pocket again and Lucifer would have bet an entire truckload of Swedish fish that he'd never get another chance to get into those pockets. A shred of trust lost and he wasn't even sure yet if it was worth the cost.
"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Lucifer asked softly.
Alastor only flapped an impatient hand. But his microphone stayed where it was, positioned between them. "It's hardly worth concern."
"That should have made it easier to bring up," Lucifer pointed out.
"Why?" Alastor scoffed, "For him? I've told you before, Vox is a charlatan, a hack."
It was so difficult not to shout. "Then why are you doing this if it's so unimportant! An official challenge is worth fucking concern, Alastor! Box didn't even send that stupid tape!" Revenge for sending the tape made the most sense, but Alastor only learned about that this morning, there was no point today where he'd have had time to go out after confronting him and Husk. It still made Lucifer regret not telling him the truth to begin with, maybe that was the final straw in Box's interference that set Alastor off, but how—
Charlie asked confused, "What tape?" Only to be ignored, hush back there, kiddo, the adults are talking.
Alastor only looked at him coolly. "I know."
"You know," Lucifer faltered, blinking at him owlishly. "How do you know?"
The flare of scorn in Alastor's crimson eyes made him flinch. "I know because I've been an Overlord in Hell for over a century and I've had the opportunity to grow my system of information. I have spies, an entire radio network feeding into me. Do you truly believe Husker has better resources than I do? And you, don't make me laugh!" But he did, coldly, "You've been holed up in your palace for twice as long, creating endless variations of useless rubber ducks rather than ruling. Why would you begin to even thinkyou have more resources than I do?"
That…that was true, okay, he knew that but.
"Okay, great," Lucifer said unsteadily, "you knew, you've been planning on challenging him for a while. Is that why you've been acting like this is our last day together?" Alastor said nothing and dawning realization took root, growing inside Lucifer's mind, spreading its ugly, twisted branches. "You don't know if you can win."
"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor sighed out, and one might almost believe it, if they didn't notice the careful way he avoided eye contact.
"But it's true. Isn't it." Lucifer took a step forward and Alastor swayed as if resisting the urge to move back. "Look me in the eye, you look at me and tell me it's not true!"
"Shut up." His mouth twisted into what was the closest approximation of a scowl as Lucifer had ever seen on his face. Blood ran from the corners of his mouth, crimson trails trickling down and Alastor pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing it away.
"Is that what this has all been?" Lucifer demanded. "Your way of getting us time together before you go off to die!"
"I'm not going to die, are you mad?" Alastor said. "You don't even know the terms, your dramatics are pathetic." It wasn't what he said so much as the way he said it, that mocking condescension matching the renewed smile on his face; ah, yes, it seemed to say, here was Lucifer, overreacting again, the puny, pathetic King of Hell who knew nothing at all and his silly imagination, and Lucifer saw red, his vision washing to crimson.
"I care about you, you fucking asshole!" It wasn't what he wanted to say but something inside him still refused to part with the words, settling for a weak compromise over what was trying so hard to be said. As Alastor's face twisted into a vicious sneer, Lucifer quailed inwardly, his anger evaporating as he was silently grateful he hadn't.
"Oh, how convenient that you bring up your confessions of affection now!" Alastor laughed and the harsh sound of it ground against Lucifer's already sore eardrums. "Is that supposed to shock me, bully me, compel me?" His pupils faded into radio dials, each word bitten out with a cutting sneer and Lucifer could only stand, frozen, letting each one strike a blow. "Shall I swoon into your arms? Give over the reins of my life to you over a few trite words." That smile twisted to anger as Alastor glared at him. "I was wrong, you're a master manipulator after all; here we are mere weeks into trying to shift fucking into something else and the very moment I refuse to let you rule me, you drag out the emotional leash! Is that how you normally play this game? If so, I can certainly understand why your wife tired of it." His expression changed to coldly mocking, running his tongue across the line of his teeth and leaving them bloody. "Ah, my apologies, your ex-wife."
Lucifer distantly heard Charlie gasp behind him, hot tears prickling his eyes as he managed to whisper, "Fuck you."
"You've already done that," Alastor chided. He straightened his cuffs and gave his microphone a twirl. "Now, if we're quite finished with this pathetic display, perhaps you'd do well to resume playacting as King." He lifted a hand, waggling his fingers in a mocking goodbye. "I have other, rather more important business that needs attention." The stress fell on the word 'important', as if this was anything but and every word struck like a thrown blade, perfectly sharpened to cause the most damage.
…too perfectly, and the brilliant revelation of the obviousness of it nearly made him nauseous.
Lucifer straightened, ignoring the wetness seeping down his cheeks as he said, quietly, "That's not going to work."
Mocking was eclipsed by sneering confusion. "What? Something else to add?"
Yeah. Yeah, there damn well was. "You're not going to drive me away like that."
"By telling you the truth?" Alastor said, his laughter filled with cold contempt and Lucifer forced himself not to flinch again.
"No," Lucifer said, so softly, "By telling me everything I don't want to hear. You can't make me not care about you. Not like this."
Alastor opened his mouth and Lucifer braced himself for true cruelty, for the knife of words to leave him raw and bleeding out. But Alastor said nothing, only wet his lips, his breath coming too fast as he swallowed and struggled, words refusing to come forth.
It was his eyes that held the truth, their crimson depths laid bare, and Lucifer knew that emotion, had seen the reflection of it in his own eyes, looking in a shallow pool of water after his Fall. Or in a mirror when Lil took Charlie away from him.
The aching purity of all-consuming grief.
"I can't keep you," Alastor said finally, low, his voice fractured, splintering into static.
Oh. Oh, love. "I say you can."
Alastor stood with his microphone clenched in whitened fists, looking up at the ceiling, his lashes damp but no tears fell. "Then it's a shame you don't have a say in the matter."
He didn't look at Lucifer again, even as he faded away into darkness, his own shadow's bright crimson grimace the last thing to fade.
Yeah, that went about as well as expected.
Lucifer blew out a long, slow breath and wiped his eyes on his sleeve before he turned around.
Vaggie and Charlie were cramped back into the corner, clutching each other like children frightened of a storm. The sight only made him tired; so much for showing them Alastor as he saw him.
"Dad?" Charlie's voice was shaky, thick with tears. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Lucifer sighed and to his surprise, he was. He hurt, but somehow that was secondary to knowing Alastor was hurting, too. It wasn't like Lucifer had the market on past relationship problems and shitty trauma.
He knew one thing for certain. Alastor wouldn't be so angry and afraid if he didn't care.
We all have trauma, even you.
"How about you two?" Lucifer asked. He reached up to set a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder and instead let out an 'oof' as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. He buried his face into her hair, breathing in the clean smell of shampoo and faint apples. "I'm sorry, sweetie, sorry you had to see that."
"You're sorry?" Vaggie started, rising indignation in her voice. "What about him—"
"He's afraid," Lucifer cut in quietly. Charlie drew away and he reluctantly let her, watching her swipe at her own damp cheeks. "For all his confidence and bluster, right now he's afraid."
"He always said Vox was nothing," Charlie ventured, softly. "I talked to him about…about Phil's interview and he wasn't even concerned. Said he was no one important."
"Yeah, well," Lucifer swiped a weary hand over his face. "They've got a backstory that I'm not about to get into. But Alastor, I'm not sure why but he's…" Lucifer trailed off, thinking. "Every story I've heard about Alastor, just around or from him, everyone talks about how powerful he is, don't mess with the radio demon. But he fought Adam and lost only a few months ago."
"So?" Charlie said hesitantly.
Vaggie spoke up, low, "So, losing a fight when you're used to always winning has a way of humbling a person. Even someone like Alastor."
Lucifer nodded. It was so obvious now Lucifer couldn't understand how he missed it before. "His confidence took a hard enough shake to knock some apples off his tree."
He rubbed between his eyes, trying to think, there wasn't time for him to be tired, it was a good guess Alastor was off issuing his challenge and that meant they might only have hours before the fight.
It was Vaggie who broke the silence, her words unexpected. "Okay, so, what can we do to help?"
Lucifer swung around to look at them in surprise. Both of them were standing tall and determined. The swell of affection in his heart for them both was strong, love of a different sort.
"Alastor said all the gossips would know the story when it breaks," Lucifer said, slowly. "So, we keep an ear to the ground and in the meantime, we learn all we can about the rules of a challenge. I've long forgotten whatever finer details I knew about them, I haven't even heard of one happening in years."
The timer going off made all of them jump. Charlie dashed for the oven and Lucifer snapped his fingers, the fragments of door leaping up and slotted themselves back into place. Even so, he was mourning the loss of the tray of biscuits, they were dotted with splinters of wood, good thing the pies were still in the oven. Not like it was the first time he'd ever rebuilt a door. He'd wrecked the door to his workshop plenty of times himself at the palace and the memory was jarring, giving him an idea.
"Listen, you two stay here, finish dinner," Lucifer said. "I've got tons of books back at the palace library, stands to reason one of them would be useful and it would be easier for me to find."
"That's a good idea," Vaggie said, and Charlie nodded agreement. "We need intel if we want to help at all."
"I won't be long, we can go over it at the table," Lucifer went on, already forming a plan. "Husk might already know about this, he's got contacts of his own, but if he doesn't, he and Angel probably would've heard the gossip by then, anyway. We'll see if they have anything to add."
As plans went, it wasn't much, but it was a start. Lucifer never really acted as a leader before, even when he probably should. Yeah, well, if he had the title, maybe Alastor was right about him actually using it.
What he did know was he wasn't going to lose Alastor, not like this. Not when both of them so desperately wanted him to stay.
Time to get to work.
-finis-
Notes