Chapter TwelveSummary:Lucifer and Alastor are deep in their own heads.
Notes:This chapter was hard to put together, but I like how it ended up turning out! This was originally going to be a fully Alastor chapter, but I missed Luci's POV too much.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Lucifer is almost certain Alastor hasn't realized he's awake yet. The radio demon is perched at his broadcasting desk with headphones covering his ears, listening to whatever song he's playing for his listeners. His back is turned towards Lucifer, but Lucifer doesn't need to see Alastor's face to know what expression is likely painted on his features right now. He can see the way Alastor's body is fully relaxed into his chair, head resting against the back in a way that would make Lucifer believe he is sleeping if not for the fact that Alastor is humming softly. Lucifer has been staring at the radio demon for about thirty minutes now as his heart rate rapidly gains speed from how utterly domestic this morning feels especially after the two of them had spent all day yesterday languidly alternating between cooking for one another, dancing, and playing Twenty Questions. Lucifer had been terrified when he first woke up yesterday morning; he had convinced himself that Alastor would wake up having come to his senses and promptly kick Lucifer out of his room, so when that hadn't happened and Alastor had instead laid there quietly while threading his fingers through the feathers of Lucifer's wings for nearly an hour, Lucifer had done what any sane person would do: shut his mouth and enjoyed it. He has so many questions though, so many answers he needs, so many anxieties to be quelled, so many 'what ifs' running rampant in his mind.
What changed?
How long will it be changed?
What does all of this mean to him?
What do I mean to him?
Fuck, I sound like a kid with a crush again.
Lucifer runs a hand through his hair anxiously. As much as he wants to just relish in the new dynamic forming between them, he can't ignore every alarm ringing in his head. Husker's warning about Alastor's ability to worm his way into people's lives for the sake of manipulating them has been chipping away at Lucifer's bliss since yesterday. His feelings for Alastor are very real, and he needs to know that whatever this is brewing between the two of them is just as real to Alastor as it is him. Lucifer doesn't want to pressure Alastor or accidentally push him to the point of discomfort by asking him what exactly they're doing, but the not knowing is torture. Between the grueling anxiety and the giddy butterflies absolutely tearing up his stomach, Lucifer isn't sure how he managed to keep down crawfish etouffee Alastor had made him yesterday, but it's certainly a testament to the radio demon's cooking abilities that Lucifer had dutifully fought off the nervous nausea with every bit of control he had in order to not waste such a delicious meal.
"Alright, my dears, that's our final song for today." The sound of Alastor's voice pulls Lucifer out of his head. "Tune on in tomorrow as our Era of Ella week comes to a close. Ta-ta for now."
As Alastor removes his headphones, Lucifer closes his eyes to feign sleeping, and he has to fight back a smile as he hears Alastor start walking towards the bed. He can feel Alastor standing next to the bed, can feel the way the radio demon's eyes are raking over his body, but Lucifer keeps his eyes closed, wanting to see what Alastor will do if he thinks Lucifer is asleep. Alastor begins moving in closer to him, and Lucifer tries his best to keep his body from tensing in anticipation. When Alastor's face is close enough that his breath begins tickling Lucifer's ear, Lucifer almost caves, but he forces himself to keep his eyes closed, waiting with bated breath.
"You're a terrible liar, Ducky." Alastor whispers into Lucifer's ear, voice clear of the radio filter, and Lucifer has no chance at hiding the shudder that runs through his body. His eyes fly open, and he feels heat begin burning his cheeks when Alastor lets out a chuckle as he straightens back up to look down at Lucifer with an amused smirk.
"How did you know I was awake?"
"I felt your eyes on my back; your gaze has a particular weight to it." Alastor's tone is flippant, but the ever-so-slight blush powdering his cheekbones paired with the subtle wobbling at the corners of Alastor's smile gives away the nerves lurking inside him.
Fuck, he's adorable. Fuck.
Lucifer stares up in awe of the demon in front of him. How a murderous, cannibalistic overlord could become shy over someone staring at him is a concept Lucifer isn't sure he will ever understand, but fuck, if it hasn't become one of his favorite discoveries. He finds Alastor to be so wholly beautiful that he could easily be considered one of The Great Wonders of Hell, and this slightly more timid, but infinitely more real, side of him is so endearing that the impulse to snuggle into the demon's chest sometimes feels near impossible to resist. The hope that Alastor could possibly be his causes Lucifer's chest to swell with happiness, and no matter how many questions or warnings are warring inside his mind, Lucifer cannot smother out that hope, not when it's been so long since he truly felt like this for someone.
"Don't look at me like that." Alastor snaps, baring his teeth, but there's no real bite to his voice.
"Sorry, you're just b-"
"Do not finish that sentence." Alastor's cheeks are a deep shade of red as he glares down at Lucifer, and his hands are fisted so tightly at his side that the knuckles have gone white.
"Simmer down, Alley Cat." Lucifer says through giggles, finding it funny how Alastor gets so defensive when he's flustered. "No compliments. I swear." Lucifer holds his hands up in surrender before splaying out his wings invitingly. "You wanna come lay back down?"
Lucifer watches the gears turn in Alastor's head as he tries to decide what he wants to do. The radio demon's face rapidly flits between angry, stressed, confused, and conflicted until finally resting on a humorously defeated expression. Alastor shrugs off his coat before dramatically throwing himself face-first onto the bed. Lucifer groans in pain when Alastor lands roughly on his wing, and when Alastor's only response is a smug "hmph" sound, Lucifer retaliates by pulling his wings in so tight that there is only a few small inches between himself and Alastor. The radio demon looks over at Lucifer with eyes narrowed in annoyance but makes no move to actually put space back between them, and Lucifer knows Alastor would let him know if he truly wanted space because the one time Lucifer had accidentally pushed the boundary a bit too far yesterday by trying to hold Alastor's hand he had jerked his hand away and called his shadows up to throw Lucifer against the wall while Alastor had nonchalantly continued walking down the hallway. Lucifer smiles fondly at the memory.
"Stop looking at me like that." Alastor huffs out, his voice slightly muffled by his face being buried in the pillow once again, and the sheer childishness of it cracks Lucifer up.
"I don't know how else you expect me to look at you." Lucifer's voice is playful, and he tilts his head to the side a bit like a dog does when they're confused.
"Your normal expression will suffice."
"Normal expression?" Genuine confusion bleeds into Lucifer's tone.
"Yes, the delightful glare that used to coat your face whenever I was in your presence."Alastor turns his face to look at Lucifer as he speaks. The filter has returned to Alastor's voice, adding an additional sting to the forced bravado, and Lucifer feels that sting hit right in his chest. It's silly. He knows it is, but the radio filter on Alastor's voice feels like a wall being thrown up between them. Lucifer loosens the hold his wings have around them, and he almost misses the hurt expression that sweeps across Alastor's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. "They're coming back tomorrow right?"
"What?" Lucifer's face scrunches in confusion, and having been caught off guard by the question, it takes him a second to process what Alastor asked. "Oh, yeah! Charlie said everyone will be back a little after lunch." Happiness replaces the confusion in Lucifer's tone at the thought of seeing his daughter tomorrow, and a wide smile lights up his face.
"I suppose that means you will be spending time with the spider again." It's a question. Lucifer knows it is, but there's something about the way Alastor says it that makes it sound more like an accusation than a question. Lucifer can't quite pinpoint what about Alastor's tone is setting off his nerves, but anxiety starts quickly building in his belly, especially when Alastor buries his face back in the pillow.
"Alley Cat?" Lucifer calls out tentatively as he tightens his wings around them once again, but rather than actually answer, Alastor just hums noncommittally. "Alastor, what's wrong?"
"Ask me something else." Alastor's voice holds little emotion, but the lack of the radio filter has Lucifer's building anxiety starting to fall back a tinge.
Lucifer watches Alastor for a moment, just taking in his entire demeanor. The radio demon still has his face firmly planted in the pillow, and his ears are pressed almost fully against his head. There's obvious tension in his shoulders that leads Lucifer to believe the position he's laying in is more than a little uncomfortable. When Lucifer looks further down, he sees that Alastor's hands are fully fisted and pulled tightly against his sides as if he's purposefully trying to keep them close to himself. Part of Lucifer longs to reach out, take that hand in his, and uncurl those fingers so that he can intertwine them with his own, but another larger part of him wants to embrace Alastor's entire body and hold onto him until every ounce of stress can be felt bleeding from his body. Lucifer's chest clenches painfully with wanting, growing ever more painful when Alastor turns his face to look at Lucifer with an expression that speaks volumes of how different their dynamic has become in the last three days. Behind the forced mask of indifference, Lucifer can see the specks of questioning, fear, and longing littered within every crease of Alastor's face, and before he can control himself, Lucifer's hand reaches out to caress the cheek not pressed against the pillow. When Alastor doesn't pull away, Lucifer begins stroking his thumb across the soft beige skin in an attempt to wipe the solemn expression off the face he's grown far too attached to. Alastor closes his eyes and leans into the touch, his fake smile slowly morphing into something more real, and Lucifer's entire body swells with pride in knowing he is the only one who gets to see the radio demon like this.
Fuck. I'm fucked.
Lucifer would be happy to lay here like this all day. It's been so long since he's been able to simply be with someone like this, since he's allowed himself this closeness with anyone, and while Alastor is the last person he would have expected it to happen with, Lucifer wants to keep doing this for as long as Alastor will let him. Knowing that, he can't help the ball of disappointment that forms in his belly when Alastor opens his eyes and pulls away from Lucifer. His expression is back to the one of relaxed contentment he wore most of the day yesterday, so Lucifer knows Alastor's mood is better at least.
"Don't think you are getting out of cooking today, Ducky. I was promised pancakes." Alastor's tone is playful as he levels Lucifer with an accusatory expression that makes Lucifer start laughing.
"Wouldn't dream of breaking my promise." Lucifer winks at Alastor before folding his wings back in. "To the kitchen!" Lucifer declares dramatically as he stands on the bed.
"Not wearing that. Go change." Alastor scolds, nose wrinkling as he looks up and down Lucifer's outfit.
"But you said you liked my duck pajamas." Lucifer shoots Alastor a look of mock offense.
"I said they suit you. That doesn't mean I like them. It wasn't even meant to be a compliment." Alastor chuckles when Lucifer's face falls. "Meet me in the kitchen when you've donned something more appropriate." Alastor smirks arrogantly before snapping out of sight.
Alastor's sudden disappearance shocks Lucifer at first, and it takes him a few seconds to catch back up to what happened. When he finally does, he rolls his eyes as he laughs to himself before snapping to his room to pick out an outfit for the day.
~*~
This has to stop. Alastor knows he needs to end this, to shut Lucifer out before he can get attached. He needs to do it before the others come back, before Lucifer's attention is inevitably pulled away from him for far more important people such as his daughter and Angel Dust.
I've been a fool.
Letting him keep those wings wrapped around me all night?
Letting him touch my face?
Letting him- no. I've been inviting him to do these things.
Inviting him into my personal space that I've worked so hard to ensure everyone knows is off limits.
And the way he looks at me, as if I'm one of his favorite people in existence?
HOW DARE HE.
Yes, I've been a fool since the moment he quelled the first panic he witnessed, but no more.
Alastor's claws scrape painfully against his scalp as his fists pull at handfuls of his hair. He has felt himself slowly drowning since the moment Lucifer almost said that word. It was yet another thing Alastor had only ever heard his mother say to him, and it is truly uncanny how Lucifer has managed to pluck yet another trait of his mother and dangle it in front of Alastor like a baited hook. It's impossible for it to be a coincidence. Alastor knows Lucifer must have somehow become privy to Alastor's best kept secrets and is now using them to manipulate Alastor into some sort of relationship. Lucifer must be trying to trap him, to use him, to punish him.
Perhaps he found out about my deal with Charlotte?
Yes, that would make sense.
He knows about our deal, and now he's trying to get close to me so that he can kill me in order to break the deal.
I cannot let-
"Alastor?" The sound of Lucifer's voice behind him startles Alastor, and he whips his head around, shadows instinctively shooting up behind him.
Lucifer's face is filled to the brim with concern, and Alastor is certain he looks a right mess right now. The radio dials are ticking in his eyes, and he can feel blood trickling down the sides of his face. Neither of them make a move towards each other, but Alastor has his shadows whipping at his feet prepared to strike if necessary.
"Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong." Lucifer stays standing in the doorway, but Alastor can see the way his body is itching to move closer. "I don't want to fight you, okay? Please, just talk to me. I can help you with whatever is bothering you, yeah?" Lucifer extends one hand out as he takes a step towards Alastor, but when the radio demon curls into himself, Lucifer drops his hand back by his side. Alastor hopes the king will walk away, but of course, he doesn't. No, Lucifer slowly unfurls his wings before looking at Alastor with a hopeful smile that threatens to knock down Alastor's every defense. "Alley Cat?"
"Fuck." Alastor whines, shadows soaking back into his body as he falls to his knees.
Lucifer's wings are around him the moment the last bit of shadow fades, and Alastor hates himself for the way his body relaxes into the embrace near instantly. His fingers find purchase in the soft red feathers of the king's wings, and he uses his grasp on them to ground himself enough to start steadying his breathing, eyes falling shut. When Alastor feels something start wiping at his face, he opens his eyes enough to see Lucifer using the sleeve of his sweater to wipe the blood off Alastor's face. An aching feeling pulses painfully in Alastor's chest; he recognizes the sensation from yesterday, but he can't name what the feeling is. He only knows it somehow hurts and feels good at the same time in a way that is infuriatingly confusing.
"What's wrong, Alastor?" Lucifer's voice is soft, asking the question but not prodding.
"Ask me something else." Alastor's voice is a small whisper.
"What's your favorite color?"
"Red."
"But what kind of red?" Alastor looks up at Lucifer, regretting it the moment he sees that stupidly fond expression staring back at him.
"Blood red." It's not true. Alastor has decided rather recently that apple red of Lucifer's cheeks is his favorite, but he refuses to admit that out loud.
"Predictable." Lucifer chuckles when Alastor narrows his eyes at him.
"What's yours then?"
"Duck feather yellow." Lucifer's face breaks into a wide grin.
"Equally as predictable." Alastor snaps at him, but there's no real bite to his tone.
Lucifer giggles before snapping his fingers. Alastor doesn't understand what changed until Lucifer buries his face in Alastor's hair, and he realizes that Lucifer must have vanished away the blood. Alastor wants to protest the increased contact, but because Lucifer is obviously keeping his face away from Alastor's ears, he decides to allow it to continue. Alastor pulls his hands from Lucifer's wings and instead fist his hands into the fabric over Lucifer's chest, opting to rest his head against the king's collar bones. It's the most contact the two of them have shared while not fighting, and Alastor feels Lucifer's body tense for just a moment before wrapping his arms tightly around Alastor's body and relaxing into the embrace. Alastor has not allowed anyone to hold him like this since he spawned in Hell. He's shared a few quick hugs from his close friends like Rosie, but this is completely different; this is different even still from the embraces he had with his mother. Sure, the position itself may look the same, but Alastor had never felt this need to be closer, move nearer, feel more when he hugged his mother. It's as if he can't be close enough to Lucifer, and it is a terrifying sensation.
This has to end.
Alastor reminds himself that this cannot continue, for both of their sakes. Deep down he knows Lucifer is genuine in his attempts to advance whatever this thing between them is, but that is only another reason to stop this. Alastor knows what relationships are, what they entail, what expectations come along with them, and he doesn't know how to do any of that. Moreover, he doesn't want any of that. No, Alastor needs to focus on the bigger picture: using this time at the hotel to figure out how to break his deal. He can't let himself be distracted by frivolous endeavors such as entertaining the King of Hell in his free time. This is certain to end with one or both of them hurt, and Alastor does not want to make an enemy of Lucifer, not knowing how easily the king could kill him if he wished. Alastor sighs, refusing to look at Lucifer as he forces himself to pull away from their embrace. He doesn't want to do this, but he needs to. A hand suddenly cups his cheek, pulling him to look at Lucifer's face covered with concern and endearment, and Alastor feels his resolve start to crumble.
"You still want pancakes?" Lucifer's voice is openly fond, and despite his every want to say no, Alastor feels his head start nodding in response. "Go sit on the counter. I've gotta make sure you actually see me cooking; can't have you accusing me of being a terrible chef again." The joking challenge in Lucifer's voice is achingly familiar in a way that burns inside Alastor's chest, but the radio demon forces the discomfort down, matching the smirk plastered on Lucifer's face.
"I'll take notes on how not to make pancakes then." Alastor quips with all the bravado he can muster, manifesting a pen and notepad for added effect. Lucifer laughs at his antics, and the smile Alastor gives in response feels almost real.
~*~
Alastor has known he is a coward his entire life, both before and after death, but right now, that knowledge is eating away at him like acid on flesh. He's laying on his bed facing Lucifer's sleeping form. It's dark enough that Alastor has to strain to make out the king's face, but he's determined to imprint the image of Lucifer peacefully sleeping in his bed into his mind. He had declined Lucifer's offer to wrap them in his wings, but Alastor couldn't completely forgo the physical touch he's learned to crave. Which is how they ended up as they are now: laying only inches away from each other with their hands clasped tightly between their bodies. Lucifer has been asleep for a few hours now, but Alastor has not been able to rest due to his mind torturously replaying the day's events.
Lucifer smiling at Alastor while he cooked pancakes for them both and the way Lucifer had loudly laughed at the face Alastor made when the king had pulled out a mold for making butter ducks. Alastor remembers how sweet the pancakes were, how perfect the flavor tasted on his lips, how sad he had been when he realized he would likely never have them again.
They had danced again today at the king's insistence. Alastor had tried to evade the suggestion, but when Lucifer had flipped on the radio and the song Put Your Head on my Shoulder had started playing through the lobby, Alastor couldn't resist the urge to insult Lucifer's stature which had then led to Lucifer pulling him into a makeshift Waltz to prove he could, in fact, put his head on Alastor's shoulder. Alastor had been worried the king may hear the way his heart hammered against his chest, but when he placed his hand on Lucifer's chest and felt the erratic way the king's own heart was beating, Alastor grew more worried about hiding the way his eyes were beginning to sting.
The two of them had sat drinking tea in the bayou of Alastor's room today. Lucifer had been staring at him with an undecipherable expression, and it wasn't until Alastor realized he had prepared a cup of the tea Lucifer had gifted him that he understood the look was one of pride, that the big boss of Hell himself was proud that some nobody overlord was enjoying a gift from him. Alastor hated the way he felt heat rise in his cheeks, but he hated the openly loving smile Lucifer had aimed at him even more.
Preparing for bed is Alastor's least favorite memory of the day. Lucifer had came into Alastor's room wearing deep red silk pajamas, and Alastor had had to fight the urge to compliment him. At this point, Alastor was set on his decision, so every piece of this memory hurts. The way Lucifer had been so shy under Alastor's gaze, the way his voice had trembled nervously when he asked if the radio demon had wanted to be wrapped in his wings, the frown that invaded his lips when Alastor had said no. Alastor had already been struggling to resist moving closer to the king, and that frown had pushed his control off the cliff. Alastor had taken those bare hands in his, and the electric feeling that coursed through his body down to his bones at the contact was the final confirmation Alastor needed that he was doing the right thing. He had quickly shut his eyes to keep any treacherous tears from falling.
Hours later, Alastor is still certain that this is what's best for both of them. He is not cut out for a relationship like Lucifer wants, and if anyone deserves to get what they want, it's him. Something Alastor has learned over the past month is that Lucifer is so much like his mother. He has been through so much, and it shows in his every word, every touch, and every expression. Lucifer has been hurt, and Alastor does not want to add more to that than he has to. Alastor does not want to be the one who breaks Lucifer the way his father had broken his mother. She had withdrawn into herself so much after his father left, and Alastor refuses to do that to Lucifer, especially when he's just started reconnecting with his own child. Stopping this before it truly begins is what needs to be done. Alastor takes a deep breath to calm himself before slipping his hands out of Lucifer's grasp. He keeps his eyes trained on the king as he carefully gets up from the bed and walks to stand behind Lucifer. Slowly, Alastor tucks his hands underneath Lucifer's neck and knees before lifting him into a cradled position. Feeling the weight of Lucifer against his chest brings fresh tears to Alastor's eyes, only this time he lets them fall.
He could snap to the king's tower, get this over with quickly, but Alastor is selfish. He wants to cherish these last moments, so he decides to walk to the tower instead. Alastor is careful to hold the king steady while he angles his face in a way that keeps his tears from falling on Lucifer's face, lest he accidentally wake him.
It must be done, Alastor.
It must.
Alastor bites back a sob that tries to fight its way up his throat. It's stupid. He feels stupid. He's never wanted anything like this before, so he can't understand why is it so hard to walk away from now. Alastor knows he has priorities that having a relationship at all, let alone with the King of Hell, would only make more complicated. Lucifer also has his own obligations, such as his daughter, that would also clash with any potential relationship. It's better for the both of them that they stay focused on the hotel.
For Charlotte's sake.
Alastor stops short when he realizes he's right in front of the door to Lucifer's bedroom. He wants to run, to call himself on his lies and just take Lucifer back to his own room where he belongs, but he can't do that. Alastor sighs in defeat before he carefully balances the king against his chest so that he can use one hand to open the door. Once inside, Alastor feels a wave of dread wash over him as he realizes that this is it; he's about to walk away from this once and for all, and he starts to feel physically sick. Slower than necessary, Alastor walks to Lucifer's bed before laying him down. Alastor's body feels cold without the warmth of Lucifer pressed against him, and his chest feels devastatingly hollow as he tucks the king in. He stands there staring at Lucifer for a moment just watching him breathe until the need to touch him again begins to feel too strong to fight.
"Good night, Ducky." Alastor whispers through trembling lips before snapping back to his room.
Alastor collapses on his bed, burying his face in his pillow and hating the way his bed smells like Lucifer. When he looks up to get a break from the overwhelming scent, Alastor comes face to face with a familiar duck plush; it's the one he had taken back to Lucifer after kicking him out of his room what feels like forever ago, and he had forgotten Lucifer demanded the plush join him when he started sleeping in Alastor's room. The sight of the plush is what finally breaks him, and Alastor snatches the little duck, desperately clutching it to his chest, before his shadows completely encase him just in time to suffocate the gut-wrenching wail that rips its way out his throat.
Notes:Please don't hate me. :)
There's still one more chapter before it ends!!
Chapter 13: Chapter ThirteenSummary:Alastor visits Rosie.
Notes:FINAL CHAPTER!
This chapter kicked my ass, so I hope you guys like it!
I've enjoyed sharing this work with you guys SO MUCH, and I appreciate each and every single one of you!! <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Laying in bed and staring up blankly at the ceiling while listening to What Will I Tell My Heart by Ella Fitzgerald for the ninth time in a row since he woke up this morning has Alastor feeling like he's finally experiencing the fatal heartbreak he's heard so much about, and it feels nearly as atrocious as it does pathetic. Alastor's eyes burn from having cried himself to sleep the night before, and his throat feels achingly raw from the inhuman sobs that had clawed their ways up his tender throat until his voice had finally given out around four in the morning. The music is supposed to be helping fill the hollowness eating away at his gut, but it seems to only be giving the guilt a larger appetite while simultaneously encouraging the misplaced regret to take heaping, overfilling bites. Alastor feels frustrated, distraught, regretful, but above all, he feels justified.
If I can be this affected by separating myself from the king after just a few days of kindness then surely breaking off this little tryst is the correct thing to do, surely it is better for the both of us that things end before either of us can be put in a position to truly be hurt.
Alastor's chest is seized by a sudden onslaught of tightness, causing him to choke harshly on air and making him cough aggressively. The hacking irritates his scratchy throat, and when Alastor looks at his hands, he sees fresh blood glaring up at him as if to mock him. 'Before either of you get's truly hurt?' It seems to ask. Alastor fists his hands, feeling the blood squish between his fingers as he does. He rears back his arm to throw a punch at the wall next to him, but just before his fist hits the wall, Alastor smells him.
Lucifer.
Alastor's heart begins racing as he realizes Lucifer is nearly right outside his door, and he quickly but quietly moves to stand behind the door in hopes to ensure the king does not come in. Alastor knows he looks a downright mess right now: hair uncombed, clothes askew, eyes red-rimmed and puffy, blood covering his face and hands, and he absolutely cannot manage a smile at this moment. He waits impatiently listening to every step Lucifer makes. The king sounds like he's marching with a purpose down the hall until there is an audible halt in the king's steps that feels out of place. Alastor is confused for all of two seconds before an overwhelming feeling of dread washes over him upon realizing that Lucifer must have spotted his duck plush sitting abandoned just outside Alastor's bedroom door; Alastor had placed the plushie by the door after he woke up because he couldn't bare to look at it anymore, but he was hoping to be gone by the time Lucifer discovered it. Alastor presses the side of his face against his door in an attempt to hear any sounds the king, whose gone suddenly quiet, may make, and his heart clenches when he hears the tell-tale sound of a wobbly sigh that indicates Lucifer has been crying. Tears well up in Alastor's own eyes, but he bites his bottom in a futile attempt to will the tears not to fall.
"Alastor?" Lucifer's voice sounds small, the dejection coating his tone diminishing the melodic lilt his voice usually carries, and Alastor sinks his teeth deeper into his lip to prevent himself from making a sound, choosing to ignore the blood he feels start trickling down his chin. "I- I know you're in there. I can smell you." Alastor can hear Lucifer trying not to cry. "Just tell, shit, tell me what I did, what I did wrong?"
You aren't the one to blame for this.
"Whatever it is, I- I can fix it. I-I promise."
This doesn't need to be fixed.
I should have never let it begin.
"Alastor, please, don't, don't disappear on me like Lil-" Lucifer's voice breaks as he chokes on a sob, and Alastor fails to hold back the whimper that tumbles from his lips at the implication that he is hurting Lucifer in the same way Lilith had. She is the one who broke this beautiful, kind angel, and Alastor's insides churn in disgust at all the ways he is proving to be just like his father. He hears Lucifer place a hand on the door, and Alastor places his own hand over the spot where he can feel the king's power radiating. Lucifer's breath hitches at the same moment Alastor feels their powers touching. "Just talk to me, please?"
There is nothing to say.
This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid.
"I'm so sorry, Alastor." Lucifer takes in a deep, shaky breath. "For anything I did that hurt you. I-I'm sorry."
I'm sorry, too, Ducky.
Alastor hears the door handle start to turn, and he snaps out of the room before Lucifer can open the door.
~*~
Walking to Cannibal Town is usually a calming experience for Alastor; however, this time the trek is only causing Alastor's anxiety to build rather than dissipate. He has fixed his appearance to be much more appropriate for public, but it feels as though every pair of eyes that land on him can somehow see the turmoil tearing him apart on the inside. The knowledge that Rosie will notice something is off with him the moment she seems him almost makes Alastor turn around, but talking with Rosie about his disastrous feelings is infinitely less intimidating than returning to the hotel where Lucifer is, no doubt, at the ready to confront him about those very same feelings. The memory of Lucifer's shaky voice hopelessly seeking explanation or connection shoots arrows of guilt deep into Alastor's chest and belly, and he has to quickly take control back over his composure as he rounds the corner into Cannibal Town at last. Each step Alastor takes down the walkway towards Rosie's Emporium seems to chip away at that control, and by the time he's entering the store, he's barely holding up the edges of his smile. Thankfully, the sound of the bell ringing as the door opened pulled Rosie's attention away from her conversation with another patron, and Alastor sees the concern seeping into her expression the moment their eyes meet. He nods his head in acknowledgement to her before hastily making his way towards the private quarters the two of them usually visit in.
Alastor drops his smile the moment he's alone, choosing to focus on steadying his suddenly rapid breathing instead of keeping the smile up. He sits at the small table near the back of the room and props his elbows up on the top so that he can comfortably grip handfuls of hair in his fists, using the sensation as his focal point for grounding. Rosie enters the room much too soon to have politely excused herself, and Alastor desperately hopes no one had noticed his entrance aside from Rosie herself lest rumors of his distressed appearance begin spreading. Alastor finds that he can't care too much about the possibility of rumors while actively trying to talk himself down from a panic attack though, so he decides not to scold Rosie for her assumed neglect towards her other guests, especially when she wordlessly offers him a hand to hold the moment she sits down. He greedily takes the hand in his own, ignoring the way it feels so wrong that it's not Lucifer's hand, and he pretends not to be ashamed by the small, concerned smile resting on Rosie's lips.
"What happened, Sweetie?" Rosie's voice is soothing, motherly in a way that starts calming Alastor's nerves.
"I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure." The filter manages to mostly hide the scratchiness of his voice, but it can't mask the way his voice trembles with uncertainty.
"Now, Alastor, you've gotta give me something to work with if you want advice."
"There is a man." Alastor pauses, a blush burning deep into his face, when he sees the way Rosie's face lights up as he start explaining. "He approached me with an offer to be friends; however, it appears to be escalating into something else."
"And you don't want more?" Rosie's face pinches in confusion. "Is it like before with Vox? No, you had been angry when you came to me the day Vox had tried to push you into something more, and this is, well, you're certainly not angry, are you?" Curiosity peaks through Rosie's confusion as Alastor simply sits there watching his friend work through possibilities herself. "What do you think of him, this man?" The question catches Alastor off guard, and he averts his eyes to look out the window as he tries to process through his thoughts.
What do I think of Lucifer?
Alastor thinks back on every interaction he has shared with the King of Hell from their spark of rivalry the day they met to the morning Alastor had woken up with hands pressed against his chest; that had been the first moment Alastor had felt the seeds of this thing between them starting to grow. He had been frightened by the unfamiliar sensation of comfort radiating from the king's bare hands resting against the flesh of his chest, so he had lashed out in an effort to create distance. Things had only escalated from there. Alastor recalls the near relentless way Lucifer has pursued a companionship with him despite every obstacle thrown his way, and the day Lucifer had declared their connection from their shared brokenness was the first day Alastor realized the bond forming between them could be dangerous. He was powerless to fight it by then, though, and after he felt the comfort of being wrapped so protectively in those magnificent wings, Alastor knew he didn't deserve the affection being given to him. Alastor had still greedily soaked in the attention Lucifer so readily gifted him until he realized how deep the bond was growing, how attached he was getting, and Alastor knew he needed to end it before Lucifer got hurt. The memories of this morning pierce Alastor's heart as he is once again reminded that he had failed to save Lucifer from the heartache, but even through that pain, Lucifer had been ready to take on the burden of blame if it meant speaking to Alastor.
"I think he's an idiot." Alastor says finally, the endearment in his voice and small smile playing on his lips clashing with his words. "He lacks any sense of self-preservation, and I would fully believe it if someone told me he walked directly into Hellfire for no purpose other than to save a stray cat." When Alastor looks back to Rosie, her face is filled with a wide smile that causes Alastor's cheeks to burn hotter.
"So, you're are most definitely in love then." Rosie states confidently with a small laugh, and the sound of radio static fills the room.
"What?" Alastor shakes his head dramatically. "Rosie, I don't, you know that I don't lov- connect with people that way."
"Yes, I'm aware you love differently, but being different doesn't make your love any less real. It just means this guy gets to experience being loved in a way that's unique to you." Rosie squeezes his hand reassuringly as she speaks.
"I don't know how you throw that word around so easily." Alastor's ears fall back in embarrassment.
"Not all of us are allergic to emotions, Alastor." Rosie giggles at the unamused expression Alastor shoots her way. "Now, tell me who's the lucky guy that's got you all twisted up?" Rosie leans in across the table as she eagerly awaits his answer like it's this weeks biggest gossip, and Alastor's ears press firmly against his head because he knows he can't avoid telling her.
"Charlie's father."
"Charlie's father? Well, that would be-" Rosie pauses as her eyes go wide with shock before her face morphs into one full of lighthearted pride. "You skipped right over all us sinners and went straight for the king himself. Good on you!" Alastor groans loudly at her too happy response.
"Do you not understand how awful this is?" Alastor whines out, hoping his friend will see the issue without him needing to explain it.
"How so?" Rosie tilts her head to the side in confusion. "You said he was the one who initially approached you, so I would assume he's interested in developing some sort of relationship with you. What's the issue?"
"Let's begin with an easy one, shall we? He's married." Alastor can't hide the resentment that leaks into his voice as he speaks, especially when he can so clearly visualize that stupid golden band around Lucifer's finger.
"Hardly. Everyone in Hell knows their marriage is over. You'll need a better excuse than that." The challenging tone in Rosie's voice signifies that Alastor has already lost this exchange, but he can't back down.
"His daughter is my business partner, surely that's a recipe for disaster."
"Oh, you're not even trying. Come now, Alastor, what's the real reason?"
Alastor's not certain if it's the playful mocking in Rosie's voice, the stress of the day, or the unwavering ache in his chest that tips him over the edge, but it's all suddenly too much. Alastor feels a rupture in his poorly kept composure, and suddenly, his eyes are ticking, his back is contracting, and his antlers cracking as his body contorts in rage.
"What if he changes his mind?" Alastor's voice comes out a snarl. "What if I let him in, let myself get attached, and he decides he doesn't like my unique way of love?" Tears start spilling down his face, and Alastor buries his claws in his scalp. "What if he gets sick of me? What do I do then? Answer me that?" Alastor's body succumbs to the anguish over the panic, and he feels his limbs returning to normal. His radio dials leave his eyes, but the tears don't. He looks at Rosie, and the mischievous smirk on her face marks her victory in this exchange.
"Oh, Alastor, since when are you afraid of anything?"
~*~
Lucifer has reached the conclusion that he doesn't deserve Angel Dust about six times now in the two hours since everyone arrived back from Heaven. Not only had Lucifer accidentally ruined the exciting news about Angel and Husk officially being together by bursting into tears, but he has also kept Angel hulled up in his bedroom instead of letting his friend unpack and de-stress after a long trip. Angel had listened to Lucifer incoherently babble about what happened while everyone was away, and when Lucifer had gotten to the events of this morning and simply broke down into violent sobs, Angel had wrapped his four arms around the king and started muttering words of encouragement to him. The two of them are still cuddled up together on Lucifer's bed, and he feels so small pressed up against the spider. Angel had given Lucifer permission to rest his head on his chest fluff, and the fur has been acting as the perfect pillow for about an hour now. Part of Lucifer feels so selfish for hogging Angel's attention when Husk likely wants to be with him, but another part of Lucifer knows that if it was an issue, Angel is comfortable enough to let him know.
"You didn't fall asleep did you, Luci?" Angel Dust ask after they've been quiet for a while.
"No." Lucifer groans out, refusing to move his head to look up, and Angel Dust chuckles at him.
"Good. I still need you to actually explain what happened this morning, so I know exactly why I'm kicking Freaky Face's ass." Lucifer wants to believe Angel is joking, but he can hear a very real anger laying underneath the joking tone.
"I believe that won't be necessary." Alastor's voice startles both Lucifer and Angel, and they accidentally knock their heads together when they try to sit up too fast, both groaning in pain.
Lucifer turns to the door way and stares dumbfounded at Alastor because he looks terrible. His eyes are puffy as if he's been crying. His hair is slightly matted near his ears which means he's been digging his claws into his scalp again but neglected to clean the blood. He's smiling, but it's obvious how much effort it's taking him to keep it up by the way it's wobbling on both sides. The radio demon also appears to be shrinking into himself. Instead of his usual confident posture, Alastor's back is slightly slumped, and his shoulders are downturned. Angel apparently doesn't notice any of this because he has left the bed and is dangerously marching towards Alastor before Lucifer can stop him.
"Listen here, Alastor, I don't know what the fuck your problem is, but you've got a shit ton of explaining to do." Angel's voice is lethal with venom, and he aggressively wags his finger in Alastor's face as he speaks.
"I am well aware that there are certain situations I need to detail out, but what I am not aware of, is what it has to do with you?" Alastor is clearly aggravated by the way Angel is confronting him, but Lucifer picks up that the radio demon's voice lacks all the condescension he usually aims towards Angel.
"What is has to do with me? That's my fucking friend, and I'll be damned if I let some bozo like you break his heart without getting a serious ass beating."
"Angel, wait!" Lucifer calls out when Angel Dust lifts a fist, and thankfully, Angel does actually pause to look at Lucifer with a confused expression. "Let me talk to him, yeah?" Lucifer turns his gaze on Alastor. "You're gonna talk to me this time right? Not just pretend you aren't there?" Alastor flinches ever so slightly at the anger in Lucifer's voice, and despite everything, Lucifer feels guilty for it.
"Yes." Alastor's voice is tight as if he's barely holding himself together.
"You sure you got this, Luce?" Angel looks at Lucifer for confirmation, and Lucifer nods. "Alright, but you let me know if you need me, yeah?"
"Of course. Tell Husk I'm sorry for hoarding you." Lucifer jokes, and it gets the smile from Angel that he was hoping for, though he does glare at Alastor once more before leaving the room.
Alastor shuts the door behind Angel Dust, and when he turns to face Lucifer again, the smile has completely fallen. The radio demon is wringing his hands around the base of his microphone as if he's nervous, and the fidgeting is so out of character for him that Lucifer finds himself wanting to comfort the demon. He wants to reach out, to take Alastor in his arms and wrap them both in his wings, and when he reminds himself that he can't do that, his belly knots painfully with nerves.
"Talk, Alastor." Lucifer's voice cuts into the silence sharper than intended, and when Alastor flinches again, Lucifer forces himself to take a deep breath. He needs to calm down if this conversation is going to get anywhere productive. "You can sit by me, yeah?" Lucifer pats the space next to himself on the bed, and his eyes go wide when he sees tears well up in Alastor's eyes.
"Are you sure?" Alastor looks to the floor as his unfiltered voice comes out as a soft whisper filled to the brim with vulnerability, and it's obvious he's trying to hold back the tears glimmering in his eyes. Lucifer feels the last of his resolve to force Alastor into a proper conversation break; his focus flipping solely to comforting his friend.
"Alley Cat, come sit." Alastor's gaze shoots back up to Lucifer the moment he hears the nickname, and the tears he was so adamantly trying to hold back start spilling down his cheeks. Alastor slowly walks towards the bed, but instead of sitting on the bed itself, he sits on the floor next to Lucifer's legs with his back pressed up against the mattress. He rests his head against Lucifer's leg, and Lucifer feels hope building in his chest at the gesture. Carefully, Lucifer lifts his hands to Alastor's head and starts cleaning the blood when Alastor doesn't pull away from the touch. "What's going on in your mind right now?" Lucifer asks, not fully expecting an answer.
"What do you want from me?" Alastor's voice is still that unfiltered, vulnerable whisper.
"I don't want anything specific. I just," Lucifer sighs as he tries to gather his words. "I just want to be around you." Tears start stinging Lucifer's eyes, but he tries to focus on keeping his voice steady.
"I have no idea what I'm doing."
"You don't have to." Lucifer puts the hand not in Alastor's hair under his chin and pulls his face towards him. "We can figure this out together, yeah? You can lead, and I'll follow wherever you wanna go."
"What if I don't want to go anywhere? What if I want things to stay exactly as they are? Nothing more than the past week?" Alastor's eyes are wide with panic, and there is an obvious air of desperation bleeding into his voice. He looks so exposed. He's practically broadcasting every emotion he feels on his face, and Lucifer's heart feels heavy seeing Alastor like this.
"Then we can do that, but please, Alastor," Lucifer pauses to take a steadying breath, and he moves from sitting on the bed to kneeling in front of Alastor on the floor so that he can grasp Alastor's face between both hands. "Please, don't shut me out." Lucifer pleads as hot tears start slowly trickling down his face. "If I do anything wrong, if it's too much, or makes you uncomfortable, please, just tell me. I just, shit, I know we hardly understand what's going on between us, but I can't lose you."
Alastor sets down his cane before tentatively bringing his hands to rest against Lucifer's cheeks, mirroring the way Lucifer is holding Alastor's face. Lucifer's breath hitches when Alastor rests his forehead against Lucifer's, bringing their faces only inches apart, and Lucifer closes his eyes as his body relaxes into the touch. They stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time simply breathing in each other's scents as the honest tears spilling down their cheeks expose how much the events of the day have weighed on both their shoulders. Lucifer isn't sure when the radio demon wormed himself into his heart and made himself wholly irreplaceable, and he still doesn't know exactly what he feels for Alastor. What he does know is that he cares deeply for the demon in front of him. Lucifer had felt like a knife had been stabbed through his chest this morning when he opened Alastor's door only to see that he had fled without an explanation; it had brought upon him a sick feeling of deja vu that had pushed Lucifer into a painfully panicked state. Unlike the others before him though, Alastor has come back. He is here in front of Lucifer practically baring his soul to the king of Hell, and there is an overwhelming sense of gratitude attached to every emotion coursing through Lucifer right now because Alastor is the first one to ever willingly come back after leaving him, no ulterior motives guiding his advances. Alastor just wants to be with him, be near him.
"Ducky?" Alastor whispers into the small space between them.
"Yes, Alley Cat?" Lucifer opens his eyes as he speaks, and his breath stills when he realizes how close the two of them are. Alastor's eyes are wide and filled with too many emotions to count as he stares back at Lucifer.
"I-I missed you today." A blush forms on Alastor's cheeks. Lucifer feels his face twitch beneath his hands, as if Alastor was trying to look away, but Lucifer holds the radio demon's face in place.
"I missed you, too." Lucifer smiles softly as he speaks, and his heart soars when he sees an answering smile spread across Alastor's lips.