Lucifer woke alone.
Not that that was unusual, in fact it was his normal. If you took the average of all his mornings since he'd started sleeping, ones where he'd woken up alone would be damn near 99.999999%.
Honestly, he couldn't really remember when he started to sleep to begin with. He didn't technically need it and only felt the lack because he'd allowed himself to become accustomed to sleeping at night. Sleep was great and it wasn't like it was shortening his lifespan, right? When he died, it was going to either be some heavy-duty murder or because of the heat death of the universe, Hell was forever-ish if only because the word forever was flexible.
Anyway, the fact was he was more used to waking up alone than not, the whole waking up with someone was a fairly recent accoutrement and he couldn't say he liked going back to his original format.
Lucifer extended his senses without opening his eyes and yeah, he was alone in the bedroom, damn it. Who knew when and where to Alastor snuck off this morning, and more importantly, why.
There were so many options; was he only being kind by not waking Lucifer? Was he feeling a little vulnerable about his nightmare last night, was he all touched out and needed some time for his skin to stop itching, so many possibilities. Worst of all might be it was possible he didn't want Lucifer to know what he was doing this morning and the best way to avoid questions he couldn't answer was to not be here.
Whatever the truth of it, Alastor left without giving him a goodbye kiss and Lucifer wasn't sure how he felt about it. No, forget that, knock it off the list, he knew exactly how he felt about it, it sucked and not in the fun way. He likedgetting morning kisses, bad breath and all. He liked waking up to teasing and early morning insults, and watching Alastor move around the room as he got ready for his day, how was he ever going to figure out how Alastor hid his tail under his clothes without the chance to stare at his ass waiting for him to slip up and reveal his secrets, huh?
He did not at all like Alastor slipping out of their room without a by your leave, the way he had when they began all this and it was more hate-fucking than…than…Lucifer was afraid to say it even in his head. The more he thought it, the more he risked words slipping out at some point without his permission before he was ready, his mouth was always running off like a toddler into traffic without consulting with his brain first, better not to give it any ammo to fire off.
That didn't mean there was any good excuse for Alastor to be sneaking out; fuck's sake, all of Hell knew by now and Lucifer was going to be determinedly avoiding reading any reports from the Sins for the next month, he could already imagine what Ozzie was going to say and he was going to avoid inflicting that on himself for as long as possible.
Most importantly, Charlie knew, (okay so it was really that he knew Charlie knew but let's not split hairs) so Alastor could come and go right out the door, and give kisses before he did, settle the agitation inside Lucifer that was liking him going off into the city daily to do fuck-knew-what less and less.
Okay, to be fair, it wasn't as if Lucifer actually asked for any of that every morning which made it a little petty to blame Alastor for not giving it. Lucifer was learning when it came to Alastor, specifics were the way to go, he tended to fall on the literal side.
Welp, things didn't change no matter how long you laid in bed, Lucifer knew that one pretty damn well, and he rolled over, started to climb out of bed and froze.
There on the nightstand was the note he'd written last night telling Alastor he was going downstairs for a drink. Only what he'd written was crossed out and there was something else scrawled out beneath it.
Don't forget, you're preparing dinner tonight with your lovely assistant, Charlie.
I've left my winnings from the card game for your entertainment. I suggest if you go to the picture show you abstain from taking notes as I shall not be allowing any technique you witness a foothold in our bed.
Ta!
Chicken scratch writing, huh, seemed like Alastor only pulled out the good penmanship for 'official' documents. What was really embarrassing was how that little note warmed the place inside Lucifer that was unhappy about the lack of kisses.
Alastor thought about him before he left. He'd left a note right where Lucifer would see it when he woke and sure it was to be a dick and remind him of his lost wager, but he still did it, that counted for something, and he left behind a clutter of dubious presents. Translating that from Alastor-speak, it was damn well affectionate, bordering on sweet, and his language was a difficult one to learn but Lucifer was starting to get the hang of it.
He closed his eyes, basked in that knowledge for just a minute. Then he turned his attention to Alastor's offering of 'gifts'.
Yeah, that was… something, now wasn't it.
Lucifer prodded at the random collection on the nightstand, separating out the jolly ranchers from the rest of the debris, ooh, apple, his favorite. The movie tickets he didn't touch, ugh, that was a source of research he'd leave in the hands of professionals, those he'd be giving back to Angel Dust and if Alastor had a problem with it, he could add it to his Tough Shit list.
After a moment's consideration, he took the fishnet stockings, too, hey, one should always be open to modifying their wardrobe. Especially since he was falling behind in the presents category, considering how Alastor wrapped himself up with a bow just for him. If the stockings were a hint, Lucifer had no objections to taking his turn at dressing up.
His prizes chosen, Lucifer opened the drawer in the nightstand and pulled out his sketchpad, flipping it to a blank page and tucking the note inside. He conjured the other note from the inside pocket of his jacket and added it, too, sentimental, him? Maybe a little and if things worked out with Alastor, he'd have a keepsake or at least penmanship proof of his multiple personalities and if it didn't, well, he'd have something to burn in a depression-induced rage, now wouldn't he.
Then he turned to a fresh page, pulling his pencil out of the spiral binding and set it to paper, drawing from memory a quick sketch of Alastor in his magazine-reading pose, bow tied neatly around his tail.
One would think angels had perfect memories, but Lucifer could tell you right now, that was not the case. Either God didn't care what they remembered or he was using them as his first test run for ADHD, didn't matter which. Lucifer had forgotten more of the past ten thousand years than he'd ever think to remember, and as soon as photographs were invented, he took plenty. Odds weren't great on Alastor doing a photo shoot in his pajamas, especially not with the bow, so if Lucifer wanted a memory of that, he'd have to rock it old school.
He was finishing the shading, ignoring the stupid pleasure sitting in his chest at how well he'd captured Alastor's nonverbal, pain-in-the-ass sass in a few simple lines when a knock at the door interrupted him.
Lucifer tapped the page, using a touch of power to affix the drawing so the pencil lines wouldn't smear, and headed for the door, snapping up some pajamas on the way.
Not that he needed three guesses as to who it was, only two people ever came to his bedroom and one of them never knocked.
He opened the door to see Charlie smiling awkwardly on the other side. She pointedly did not try to look around him into the room and if there was a way to reassure her that no, Alastor was not currently naked in his bed waiting for a mid-morning romp, Lucifer didn't know the right words for it. Instead, he plastered on a 'happy to see you' smile and said cheerfully, "Morning, sweetheart! What's doing?"
To his relief, her smile relaxed a fraction. She said, hesitantly, "Morning, dad, I hope I'm not interrupting?"
Yeah, Lucifer could have lived on forever without the knowledge that Charlie spent any amount of time worrying about interrupting his sex life.
"No, of course not," Lucifer said, a little too loudly, nope, there was absolutely no sex going on this morning, not even a little. "C'mon in."
He held the door further open and she came inside, heading towards the sofa that Lucifer was extremely glad he'd taken the time to clean before going to bed. Bad enough to have his daughter sitting on the sofa that bore witness to the utterly filthy things he did to Alastor last night, he didn't need Charlie forming any opinions about possible kinkiness regarding scattered cartons of spilled Chinese food and sofa cushions with holes in them.
Not that Charlie was paying any attention to the seating arrangements. She was all but glowing with excitement, any concerns about walking in on him and Alastor playing naked twister forgotten. "You'll never guess who came to the hotel this morning!"
"That's a pretty safe bet," Lucifer admitted. He wasn't great at remembering the names of people he'd known for centuries, much less recent acquirements.
"Yes, but dad!! Phil came to stay at the hotel!" Charlie told him excitedly. She all but clapped her hands together in glee and as much as Lucifer wanted to share in her excitement, there was one question he needed answered first.
"Who is Phil?" Lucifer asked, cautiously.
Charlie was unfazed, she only laughed. "Phil, the reporter?"
"That weaselly guy?" Lucifer said, trying not to drop his entire load of disbelief on her at once.
"Yes!" Charlie said brightly. "He came this morning to apologize for everything that happened and asked if he could stay!"
Seriously? Bill, that fuckhole who brought over the blackmail pics of him and Alastor was going to be staying as a guest? To say that seemed sus was a lot like claiming the lava pools on the outskirts of the city were a tad too warm to work as a free hot tub. Sure, he knew the hotel was technically for everyone but come on, this guy was in Box's employ and suddenly he was soooo impressed by the hotel he was signing a lease agreement? There already had to be someone here on the take to have gotten those pictures of him and Alastor, depressing though not surprising, but that didn't mean they had to bring in the known evils to mingle with the unknown.
Worse, Lucifer could already see none of that logic was going to sway Charlie, damn it. She was all but pink with pleasure, so happy to have a new convert. She'd believe the best in any person until proven otherwise and it looked like him asking Lucifer on a live feed in front of all of Hell if he was fucking Alastor wasn't proof.
"Sounds great, sweetie," Lucifer said, with forced hearty enthusiasm. Okay, so, watch that guy like a hawk, check, making a mental note to chat with Vaggie on this one; it was times like these her inherent distrust served them well.
Charlie's smile softened and she reached over to take his hands, sending Lucifer's anxiety levels soaring up to twelve. Hand holding always seemed to precede upsetting news and he swallowed around the sudden thickening in his throat, hoping against hope she didn't want to discuss more about Bill's unsavory blackmail attempt or Lucifer's less than casual reaction to it.
It was a dubious relief that she swerved off the script possibilities into unexpected territory. "You know, dad, we've got a few therapy groups set up now. Part of the agreement for staying at the hotel is joining in on therapy and I was thinking of branching out."
That sounded reasonable, if only Lucifer wasn't positive there was an invisible shoe hanging over his head, waiting for a chance to drop. "Oh, yeah?"
Charlie nodded. "Group therapy isn't for everyone, and Vaggie and I only have so much time for one-on-one work. What do you think about starting up an art therapy group?"
"Art therapy?" His collection of self-help books did mention creating could be therapeutic, although if that was all a person needed, then his collection of ducks should make him the happiest bastard in all of Hell.
"Yes! You could teach it a couple times a week and—"
"Woah, back that right up. Me?" Lucifer said, surprised. Him lead a therapy class, talk about the blind leading the deaf.
"Just a small class and I'd be there to help, at first," Charlie said hurriedly. "I'd teach it myself, but I didn't get the art gene, my cooking is actually a little better and Vaggie is worse at art than I am."
Lucifer winced, that was something of a unique qualifier, wasn't it. He turned away from her hopeful face, glancing at the sketchbook still lying on the sheets. He was supposed to be helping with the hotel but the thought of standing in front of a group of Sinners, lecturing them on proper art techniques? He wasn't sure about all that and no better way for sinners to lose faith in his leadership than him running away screaming from charcoal sketch day.
But. Charlie was asking him, and he'd let her down so many times before…"Can I think about it?"
"Of course!" Charlie squeezed his hands gently. "And it's okay if the answer is no, dad. You've already really been helping with the hotel."
"I really haven't." So far, he'd been an overpowered chamber maid at best and at worst a codependent asshole with the hotelier. Neither of those was what he would strictly consider the definition of helping.
"Dad," Charlie said, and her voice was reminiscent of her mother's, her words not at all. "The hotel is supposed to be a place where people can heal. Even you."
Lucifer laughed, a little, even as he cringed from the faint bitterness in it that he couldn't hold back, careworn and weary. "You'd think I'd had enough time to heal."
"Some wounds are deeper than others." There was a certain gentleness to that, and Lucifer looked away, swallowing around the thickness in his throat and Charlie sighed, "Look, I have some stuff to get done first but can we meet in the kitchen at maybe five to start dinner?"
"Yep," Lucifer agreed roughly, eager for another topic of conversation, "we have to live up to our side of the bet. Can't have Al spreading rumors that we'd renege on our word!" Lucifer let his voice drop, although his imitation of Alastor was nowhere near Charlie's superior effort, "What would the papers say!"
She laughed, anyway, and Lucifer loved her so, so much.
"It'll be fun for us to cook together," Charlie beamed. "Plus, I have an idea for what to make!"
Later, Lucifer would think it was a damn good thing Charlie wasn't a prophet or if she was, she must've shared a dorm room with Cassandra because 'fun' might be stretching things.
It was a little after five when Lucifer finally made it to the kitchen, still internally grumbling and there was going to be a memo tomorrow to their guests giving them a list of all the things they were allowed to flush down the toilet, mostly because it would be impossible to make one about all the things they couldn't. Frankly, it was amazing how creative people could get with drains, how the fuck did anyone even get a shower curtain that deep? Lucifer didn't know and it was a pain in the ass to fix, a guy couldn't just point his powers at a problem and think 'fix that', you had to be able to give some directions. Although next time he'd have to make sure 'check for presence of shower curtain' was on the top of his list.
By the time he got cleaned up, left a scathing note for that hotel patron about their flushing habits, and made his way down to the kitchen, Charlie was already there.
"Hey, sweetie, sorry I'm late," Lucifer began. There were several aprons on a hook hanging behind the door and he grabbed one and started tying it on. "All right, let's have a look at this recipe you…have…"
He trailed away as he got a good view of what they were working with. Charlie was already aproned up and elbow-deep in chopped veggies and, uh, did he say chopped? Maybe massacred was a better way to describe them, possibly mangled, leaning towards mutilated, that was exactly three more 'M' words than a person should need to describe cut vegetables.
To her credit, Charlie was under no delusion that her cooking standards were anywhere in the neighborhood of competent. Her expression was one of misery, her eyes reddened and while it was entirely possible that was a result of the pile of what looked like onion mush on one side of the cutting board, Lucifer wouldn't be taking bets on it.
"Dad," Charlie started, that single word already wibbling, "I tried to get things started but I think…I think…"
A sob broke through, and Lucifer clucked his tongue and pulled her in, a much taller version of comforting her over skinned knees as a toddler. Wetness seeped in through his shirt and he only rubbed her back, any concerns about shower curtains and toilets far, far away.
"Hey, it's okay, kiddo," Lucifer soothed, "We can fix this it just needs…uh…"
He eyed the cutting board from over her shoulder. Yeah, it just needed started completely from scratch, good god, was she cutting them with a dull spoon? A whiff told him the pile of desecrated green was probably bell pepper and frankly, if you needed to rely on a sniff test to identify ingredients it might be better to go back to the beginning and Lucifer was trying to think of how to say that to his already teary daughter when a familiar and unwelcome voice spoke from behind them.
"Well! Aren't you settling into the role of proper little chefs here, how lovely to see you both working off your debts." Charlie jerked away from Lucifer, dashing away any leftover tears with the back of her hand and Lucifer turned to see Alastor leaning against the doorjamb, microphone in hand, all wicked smiles and evil eyes. "And what are we making today, surely a secret recipe if it requires you to whisper it to each other?"
It really was embarrassing how every part of Lucifer seized up a little at the sight of him, irritation at the interruption warring with something else entirely.
Seriously, Alastor wore the same thing every day, why was he so damn appealing?
But he was, damn it, he looked good. He must've slept well after his trip to nightmareland last night, some of the lines of exhaustion that had started showing on his face were notably absent. The pert fluff of his ears surrounding the small branches of his antlers, the curve of his smile, the way his eyes briefly flicked to Lucifer before settling decisively on Charlie. The way his hip was cocked as he leaned on his microphone, hands folded overtop of it, and if Lucifer was behind him right now, he would be able to see the flirtatious way his coat draped over his backside, silently begging for hands to cup the scant curves beneath. For Lucifer's hands, thank you, if anyone else was picking up on that message, they'd do well to ignore it because Lucifer probably wouldn't be the one taking their hand off at the wrist if they gave it a try.
He looked so good, bordering on delicious, how appropriate for the kitchen, and Lucifer forcibly pulled his eyes away. Charlie might know about them, but she didn't need to bear witness to him drooling.
"Cooks only in the kitchen, Al, we've got this," Lucifer said, gruffly. He didn't really expect it to work and it didn't. All he could do was watch in resignation as Alastor banished his microphone and replaced it with an apron, the caption emblazoned in bright red letters on the front declaring 'Mister Good Lookin' is Cookin'!'
"Then isn't it convenient that I am an excellent cook!" Alastor said brightly as he stripped off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, tying on the apron. "Not that either of you need my assistance, of course, both of you being so very skilled in the culinary arts—"
He trailed off, that expression of glee shifting as he took a step closer and got his first real eyeful of the cutting board.
"Well!" Alastor said, at last. "This all certainly looks interesting." His inflection made it clear 'interesting' was meant in the way squashed bugs were interesting to toddlers, "What did you say we were making?"
"We don't need help—" Lucifer began, irritably, only to be betrayed by his own daughter.
"We're making etouffee!" Charlie pronounced it as e-toffee, like it was some kind of internet-related candy.
Alastor paused, his smile lessening as his brow knitted. "A what now?"
"Eh-two-ffee," Charlie sounded it out carefully. "It's a recipe from where you lived when you were alive! Like the jambalaya!"
"I know what it is," Alastor said coolly, and his smile shifted to gritted teeth. "And it is pronounced étouffée." His teeth clicked at the end of the word as if literally biting it off and Lucifer winced internally.
Charlie didn't seem to notice. "I thought we could do local recipes for everyone this week, make something they might remember from, you know. Before."
Yeah, okay, Lucifer really wished Charlie consulted him about this plan. Most sinners would be sensitive about someone bulldozing over possible family recipes, much less Alastor who was always so, so prideful, of his reputation, of his life, of everything.
She didn't understand, how could she? Her home was Hell, what recipes were made here that would give anyone a homey feeling? She couldn't understand the boundaries she was trampling over, and Lucifer could see what was going to happen next as clearly as the picture shows Alastor hated so much. Alastor was going to eviscerate her with blistering words and Lucifer wouldn't be able to stand by and watch it, he would not let Alastor hurt her, and all this would end with fury and misery. All of what they'd worked towards and learned about each other, all the parts of themselves they'd changed and molded into something fragile and new would be utterly ruined with nothing more than a few angry, possibly deserved words.
Lucifer was about to lose everything all over again, and the pain already settling into his chest was unbearable, bitter agony and the black taste of loss on the back of his tongue.
Please, don't. Please.
He didn't say it aloud, he knew he didn't, but maybe some of it was showing on his face, all his pain and fear mirrored in his eyes.
Alastor briefly closed his eyes, visibly composing himself. When he opened them again, his smile was bright and false, but it was there. "Why don't we see what other ingredients you have, shall we? I hope you don't mind me playing sous chef to your culinary artistry?"
"Oh, no," Charlie said, oblivious to the storm passing right over her pretty head, "not at all. Please, I'd love you to help, you have to know this recipe better than either of us!"
Alastor nodded and his smile eased into something bordering on real. "The first thing we need to do is get a bottle of wine." He opened one of the cupboards and brought out a bottle of something red, using a sharp nail as an impromptu corkscrew.
"Oh," Charlie frowned and picked up the cookbook, running her finger down the page. "I didn't see that in the recipe."
"It isn't, but that's not what I want it for," Alastor said, already pouring himself a glass. "It may not be a necessary ingredient for étouffée, but it does quite well in the chef."
After that, there was nothing to do but get cooking and Lucifer stood back and tried not to sulk as he watched them.
It was entirely possible Alastor original intention was deliberately inserting himself into what Lucifer was hoping would be a father/daughter bonding moment. Possibly? How about absolutely completely deliberately being a shit about this.
But after Charlie stomped all over boundaries that she didn't even realize existed, he couldn't really push Alastor out the door. So he grudgingly allowed it, hey, there was six more days left and once tonight was over, Lucifer was going to gently suggest they try not to rip open any wounds for the rest of the staff. Besides, did any of them really want to learn what Niffty considered a traditional recipe?
It was kind of interesting to watch, if he were forced to admit it. This was the first time Lucifer saw them together since he found out Charlie knew about them, and he couldn't help but wonder how that colored his perceptions.
For one, he was starting to doubt his initial instinct that Alastor would tear into Charlie for overstepping. He was nothing but patient with her, well, after he pronounced her first attempt at deconstructing vegetables as 'a ghastly atrocity, did you cut these with the potato peeler?' and tossed them in the trash.
Maybe his assumption was based into how easily Alastor ripped into him, especially when they'd first met, the both of them all sharp edges and resentment. But Lucifer was more than capable of handling those sorts of insults, ten thousand years in Hell would thicken anyone's skin. Maybe Alastor knew that, maybe he recognized the different between a leathery-souled old fallen angel and a fresh, young princess. Maybe?
Lucifer poured his own glass of wine, sipping it as he watched them together, Alastor's crimson head close to Charlie's blonde one as he said, "No, my dear, try it like this. If you cut the onion lengthwise without going through the root, you can cut across again and you'll have a perfect dice."
Charlie did as instructed, a little clumsily, her fingers holding the onion curved away from the knife as she carefully followed Alastor's direction and ended up with a slightly ragged pile of diced onions.
Her triumph made Lucifer's heart cramp with happiness, even as she looked up at Alastor with a beaming smile, "That worked! Thank you, Alastor!"
It stung to hear, but only a little, a sad, aching pinch and Lucifer found he was watching less grudgingly by the minute.
Despite how hard Lucifer tried to convince himself otherwise, Alastor honestly did seem to have some sort of parental affection for Charlie past simply wanting to annoy him, and that was saying something. Alastor was not an affectionate kind of guy. But Charlie was, Charlie was loving by nature from the moment she was born, Charlie had plenty of love to share and—
Charlie had plenty of love to share. Knowing that and believing it were two different things, but Lucifer found he was starting to believe, a little. Affection for Alastor didn't take any of the eggs from Lucifer's love basket, okay, that sounded wrong, didn't make it less true.
If you looked at it from another angle, watching them work together was kind of sweet…well, fuck that it, was very sweet from just about every angle except the jealousy one and once Lucifer forced that aside, he found he couldn't help smiling a little, watching the two of them.
Alastor had left Charlie to the vegetables while he started on the cooktop, still offering the occasional direction/jibe, "Do be careful with those jalapeños, if you rub your eyes before you wash your hands, it won't be tears of joy you'll be crying. Isn't that right, your Highness?"
He twisted to look slyly over his shoulder at Lucifer, all mocking smiles. His triumphant grin faltered slightly when Lucifer was obviously not upset, only shrugged and nodded, "It's true, your eyes will thank you for your hygiene. And it's your Majesty, thanks, to all of Hell, and Lucifer to you, asshole."
Lucifer stepped up to the stove, rising up on his toes to press a light kiss to Alastor's slack mouth.
It was only a little kiss, barely a peck, he wasn't about to go spelunking for tonsils in front of his daughter. But now Alastor was outright staring at him, all wide, startled eyes blinking too fast. His gaze flicked briefly to Charlie, who was pointedly not watching them, all her attention was on her cutting board, and one would think she hadn't even noticed them. Except for the little smile curving her mouth and Lucifer almost went weak with relief at the sight of it. She really was okay with this, she really was, she wanted them to be…well, if not happy then something together. It really was okay.
"Better keep an eye on that roux, Alastor," Lucifer said, lightly, stepping back out of reach in case Alastor came to his senses with an urge for revenge. "wouldn't want it to burn."
It was on the tip of Lucifer's tongue to call him 'babe' but maybe best to not rattle that cage yet.
Alastor startled, looking between the pan and Lucifer several times as if hoping his wits were scattered close by, maybe mixed in with the veggies sweating away in the other pan.
"I…yes. Of course." He recovered from his shock quickly, wielding his wooden spoon with the same expertise as he did chopsticks. "After all, if I burned it, imagine the damage to my reputation if such an atrocity ever got out."
"It'd be a headline for sure," Lucifer agreed. He watched Alastor cook a little longer, letting his gaze drift down from the hunched line of his shoulders where he leaned over the stovetop to his backside where the snug fit of his trousers wasn't currently hidden by his coat. Come to think of it, watching Alastor cooking made for an excellent treat, next time he'd have to try for a show without Charlie along for the ride.
Although…
"You know, you should show Charlie how you make coffee," Lucifer said, teasingly. "Or at least show her how not to make it. She could use all the help she can get."
Charlie lit up, setting aside the chef's knife to clap her hands together with delight. "Oh, would you?"
"I…could, I suppose," Alastor said, slowly. He began pouring stock over the finished roux, the furious scrape of the whisk almost drowning him out. "The first step is by not using the cheap grounds in the cupboard, I invest in my own. I also add a pinch of salt to the pot to cut the bitterness."
Lucifer leaned against the counter, wine glass dangling loosely from his fingers and only half-listening as Alastor went over the steps for making his version of coffee. He'd be more than happy to keep stealing his cup of morning glory from Alastor; some of the pleasure of it would be lost if he ever made it himself, Lucifer had no doubt.
"There!" Alastor announced, setting a lid on top of his pan. "It only needs to simmer while the rice is cooking. Now, as much as I appreciate a culinary adventure, I did have another purpose for coming here. I'm given to understand you received a series of pictures during your interview yesterday, hmm?"
Charlie blinked, her face twisting, and Lucifer couldn't help but notice she didn't mention that the giver of the photos was currently a guest, his kid did have some common sense, it seemed. "Yes."
"Do you still have them?"
Charlie looked very much like she wanted to say no, but lying was never in her skill set and against someone like Alastor? May as well not sully the family name by trying. "Yes," she admitted.
"Go get them, won't you?" Alastor said, "There's a good girl."
To say she left reluctantly was an understatement and Lucifer was still trying to puzzle out why when the door swung closed behind her and he was abruptly yanked forward by two hands fisted in the front of his apron, a fierce mouth covering his own.
Oh, fuck, yes. Lucifer wrapped both arms around Alastor's neck and met that ferocity with his own, hitching himself up, climbing this slim branch of a man like a tree until one heel was digging into the small of Alastor's back and the other braced against his hip.
The sound muffled between their mouths was obviously a laugh, yeah, go ahead, yuck it up, tall drink of something, but let's remember who needed a kiss so badly he came up with an excuse to get Charlie out of the room.
His mouth tasted like wine, their chins bumping awkwardly and teeth scraping as they both searched for a better angle, tongues moving against each other in a slippery dance, following music that was only in their heads. They broke apart with a wet sound, obscene in the mundanity of the kitchen.
Lucifer grinned up at Alastor, noting with satisfaction Alastor's mouth was pink and faintly swollen from the force of the kiss. "Seem a little het up there, Al."
Crimson eyes narrowed at him, glaring darkly, "Keep calling me that and you'll learn the real meaning of het up." And before he could answer, Alastor's mouth surged against his again and Lucifer could only strain into him, meeting that force with his own, tongue flicking over too-sharp teeth and the sweet taste of his blood blossomed between their mouths, mingling with the wine.
Alastor made a low, desperate sound, his tongue suddenly frantic and this time Lucifer broke the kiss, running his tongue across his own teeth just to watch the way Alastor's pupils blew wide as he stared avidly at the smears of gold.
He learned back when Alastor tried to take his mouth again, ignoring the frustrated blat of static as Alastor snarled out, "Hold still!"
"Don't think so," Lucifer taunted. He squirmed in Alastor's arms, silently daring him to drop him, and Alastor hissed through his teeth, his hands going brutally tight. "If you want kisses so bad, you could have given me one this morning before you left."
"No, I certainly couldn't. That tends to make me want to climb back into the bed. It's quite ridiculous." Alastor sounded frustrated by it, irritated by his own unfamiliar desires, and leaned in again, trying and failing to capture Lucifer's mouth with his own.
Lucifer tipped his head back, away from that greedily eager mouth. "Speaking of Box—"
Alastor gave up on trying to steal another kiss and instead pressed his face into Lucifer's throat, his open mouth hot against sensitive skin as he inhaled deeply, "No, we aren't."
Oh, fuck, it was so hard to think, Lucifer shivered at the graze of teeth just beneath his chin, the almost-pain both a taunt and a retaliation, leaving Lucifer gasping out words, "Um…ah…do you…do you have any idea why the tv wasn't working last night?"
"Ah." To his dismay, Alastor stopped entirely, took away that lovely mouth and grabby hands, and set Lucifer back on his feet, only holding him by the shoulders long enough for Lucifer to catch his balance. Then he drew back entirely to study his nails as he said, "If you're going to teach someone a lesson, it's better to be costly than painful, but both are best if you can manage it."
Well, that was certainly an answer. "Alastor," Lucifer said, torn between amusement and worry, "Don't let Box hurt you back."
Okay, considering everything Lucifer had seen the past week, he really didn't think he deserved that scornful look. "Are you even entertaining the idea he possibly could? Do have some sense."
"It's not my sense I'm worried about," Lucifer countered, "It's not like I can really ask, is it?"
Alastor only gave a non-committal hum and turned back to the pan, lifting the cover and giving it a stir. "I suppose I owe you an apology for interfering with your cooking time. It won't happen again."
That was one way to change the subject, but Lucifer was going to allow it, for now, and yeah, he'd believe thatstatement when he saw the proof. "I'm actually looking forward to it. Charlie is always so busy, she can settle down for a minute and learn how to chop onions."
"I believe onions are covered. But yes, a father should get to spend time with his child," Alastor said absently. He held up the spoon to Lucifer's mouth, his other hand cupped beneath it to catch any drips. Lucifer took a cautious taste and it was good, the heady spice bursting across his tongue at the same time slow realization came to light.
A little wager, that was all, set up in a way that win or lose, they both won. Winner, winner, chicken dinner, indeed.
"It's good," Lucifer admitted, slowly, his eyes never leaving Alastor's. "And you're right, a father should."
That little smile widened into mocking, tongue curling over his teeth as Alastor said, "Which is why I am here! I couldn't possibly neglect my surrogate daughter."
The silent 'like some people' was heavily implied, such an asshole.
Alastor laughed aloud as Lucifer shoved him back against the counter, not even struggling, only purely amused. But that expression changed to wariness when Lucifer shoved the apron out of his way and yanked Alastor's shirt out of his pants, smoothing his hands over warm, bare skin.
"What do you think you're doing?" Alastor said, the static waver masking wariness with irritation, "She's nearly back."
Lucifer didn't ask how Alastor knew that, better not to know, save the argument. He only pushed Alastor's shirt up over his navel and ducked down, pressed his mouth warm and wet against the flat of his stomach, felt him try to jerk back but there was nowhere for him to go.
The sound he made at that touch, god, so worth it, sharp and startled and lovely. Lucifer mouthed down the fine trail of crimson hair that led a path to the waistband of his trousers, tugging at them with his lips. Tongue dipping behind the buckle of his belt and he felt Alastor scramble to grab hold of the edge of the counter, a wooden spoon falling to the floor as Lucifer sucked a mark into the taut skin, pulling blood to the surface in a shallow bruise. A last sucking kiss and then Lucifer pulled back and stood, admiring his handiwork.
Alastor was slumped against the counter, flustered pink high in his cheeks and his clothes rumpled, so utterly fuckable right then that Lucifer had to stomp harshly down on the urge to pull him through a portal right up to their bedroom. Alastor staring at him with parted lips and wide eyes was not helping that urge at all, he looked very much like he wouldn't say no, and then the door started opening.
Watching him scramble to straighten his clothes was the sweetest of paybacks, so agitated that Alastor didn't even try reaching for his powers.
Lucifer let him struggle for a second then flicked his fingers, fixing his clothes and leaving no reason whatsoever for him to be so obviously flustered. He turned to his daughter who'd just came into the room and wasn't even looking at them, her attention on the stack in her hands.
"Did you find them?" Lucifer asked innocently. Nope, not a thing to see, here.
"Yes, here they are." Charlie held them out with visible reluctance and Lucifer saw with some surprise there was a wooden frame mixed in with the stack. He reached for that while Alastor took the rest of the pictures, flipping through them.
Oh. Charlie framed one of the pictures, she…she'd framed it and must've had it in her room, a picture of the two of them together. It was one of the few where Alastor wasn't blurry and what was up with that, was that something that Alastor did or was it a side effect of his radio schtick? He was clearly saying something bratty, all smiling confidence and a hand pressed to his chest, and Lucifer was looking at him, his expression soft and obvious.
Well, fuck, Alastor was right. He did have a look.
Next to him, Alastor was still going through the photos and Lucifer frowned when he noticed Alastor wasn't even looking at them. He was examining the back of each picture, which was weird to say the least, and before Lucifer could even ask, Alastor paused on one.
"Ah. There we are." He pointed at the back of the photo and Lucifer squinted to see there was a barely visible bump. Alastor held up the picture between two fingers like a magician doing a trick and it ignited into green flames, burning to ash in seconds.
"Was that a bug?" Lucifer asked, disbelieving.
Alastor tipped his head to the side, eyes briefly flashing dials, "What it was is a lesson in nothing is as it seems, hmm?"
"He was listening to us?" Charlie said, outraged. She hastily took back the rest of the pictures, including the framed one, probably just in case Alastor decided not to take a chance and burned the rest.
"It appears so." Alastor's gaze swung to her and Charlie shrank away, "Why? Did you say anything of particular interest in the privacy of your room?"
Charlie blushed pink, like a human, like her mother, and Alastor's grin twisted to a moue of distaste. "Details are not required."
Yeah, Lucifer was going to agree with that sentiment. Details could stay right out of his hearing.
"He wouldn't have heard anything important," Charlie said stoutly.
And anything unimportant better stay in a private file because if Lucifer heard even a wisp of a rumor about a secret princess of Hell sex tape, Box was going to fucking wish Alastor shut down his network for good.
"Lovely to hear. Why not let everyone else know dinner will be ready soon," Alastor suggested. "Your father and I can get the table set."
"Sure!" Charlie said brightly. There was absolutely no reason for her to leave the room to send a text message and Lucifer studiously ignored the look she sent him.
Yeah, Alastor, way to show off your master of subtleties skills.
Only, he didn't go right back in for the kiss or even worse (better?) revenge for Lucifer's belly attack. Instead, Alastor said, "You know, a photography lesson was not my original reason for coming to the kitchen. Nor was the culinary session."
"No?" Lucifer said doubtfully. "So, you in no way meant to interrupt us cooking."
"Your doubt pains me to my soul." Alastor pressed a wounded hand to his heart. "Not at all. I kindly brought dessert for tonight to ease your pains from working with an inexperienced chef. While I generally prefer to cook myself, I'm afraid my time is currently limited."
A white box appeared in a swirl of shadows and Lucifer wondered idly if that changed the taste. The lid of the box said Evil Donuts, huh, if he'd had to choose a restaurant for them to bond over, he couldn't have said that one would be on the list, but hey, sometimes these things just happened, didn't they.
"Apple tarts?" Lucifer guessed, hopefully.
"Much as I appreciate a sense of irony, no. Chocolate éclairs." Alastor opened the box to showed off enough for dessert tonight and then some. He swiped a squiggle of frosting from the lid of the box and licked it from his finger, and the curl of his pink tongue against the tip made heat settle at the base of Lucifer's belly.
He forced himself to frown, couldn't let Alastor win that easily. "I didn't think you liked sweet things."
"I generally don't. You've been a terrible influence and lately there are times I find myself craving something," his voice lowered, eyes dropping below Lucifer's waist as he finished in a static-laden purr, "sweet."
Oh, this. Fucking. Guy. There was no way in fuck he was going to do anything with his daughter one thin door away and there was also no way that Alastor didn't know that. It was all in his eyes, for once as easy to read as a children's book if the Cat in the Hat were ever so smug with fiendish delight.
"You're such an asshole," Lucifer said, helplessly.
Alastor only shook his head in mocking dismay, "Is that any way to thank someone for a gift?"
"You'll get your thank you tonight," Lucifer said. The words tried to catch, clinging to fear and he forced them out, "If you're still interested in seeing my wings."
That got his attention. Alastor's eyes fell half-closed, a thin rim of crimson gleaming from beneath dark lashes. "I am."
Lucifer took a deep breath and nodded. "Good. Then shall we set the table?"
He turned to the cupboards and couldn't stifle a yelp at the sudden sharp slap on his ass.
"After you, babe," Alastor said and Lucifer bit back all the words that wanted to escape, words like, asshole and you're going to pay for that and I think I love you, so much, please, I can't stop, I can't.
Instead, he cleared his throat and said only one word, "Tonight."
"I'll hold you to that," Alastor said, softly, and he reached over Lucifer's head for the plates.
-finis-