Notes: Not beta-read. Any mistakes will be corrected later on.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
"…and then we did the marshmallow challenge before bed!" Charlie gushes on the other line, her voice going breathy the way it does whenever she gets too excited. Lucifer can't help but grin too, unable to resist his daughter's infectious enthusiasm. "Vaggie suggested we do something fun to destress after everything, so we played a quick game. Basically you're divided into teams, and each team is given twenty spaghetti sticks and one marshmallow to make the tallest structure possible. We decided to divide ourselves into groups of two since there were six of us at the time."
"That sounds really fun, sweetie," Lucifer says, leaning back in the tub to lift one leg up to stretch it. He watches the water fall down his calf and thigh for a few beats before blinking up at the ceiling. He drops his leg into the water with a loud plop and says, "Wait, six? I recall there being just five of you… oh, you probably meant Alastor, huh? I guess he's not that much of a dick if he's playing with you guys. That's a relief."
"Oh, uh, Alastor didn't join us, dad. He just watched and made sure no one cheated." Charlie says. With a hum, she adds, "Now that you mention it, he never really joins these things. I should probably talk to him about that. Not really good for our image if the facility manager himself doesn't participate in redemption exercises, right? We're getting enough crap from the news as it is."
"Oh! Right. Of course he wouldn't join. 'Cause he's a snooty, uptight prick. Yeah," Lucifer says, blushing a little at his mistake. Then he pauses. "Wait, you said you're getting crap from the news?"
"Oh right, you don't watch television. You and Alastor are so weird." Charlie laughs a little. Then she sighs. "But yeah, it's… yeah. It's kinda bad. They've always been awful about the hotel, but ever since the last Extermination, they've gotten a little… predatory, I would say? I mean, they stalk us outside the hotel and hound Angel for interviews whenever he goes out to work. It's crazy! And the things that they say… well, I guess it's technically positive if you really look at it, but the other stuff…
"Anyway, Angel says the publicity is good for the hotel either way, but it's really stressing me out. I don't want people looking down on us after everything we did. After Pentious sacrificed himself. I know redemption is hard to believe in for these people, but… ugh, I just wish they'd just leave us alone."
All throughout Charlie's little monologue, Lucifer winces in sympathy. He's no stranger to bad publicity, especially in the last few centuries. When human sinners are dropped into Hell, they bring with them their memories, personalities, and history. Journalism had always been a thing in Hell, but sinners had quickly taken over and Lilith saw no reason to stop them from publishing whatever they wanted. Freedom of speech, the sinners had called it. Civil rights, Lilith had explained.
At first, Lucifer had no qualms about it—who is he to deny sinners their free will, after he had given it to them willingly? But then that first editorial about his lackluster leadership skills got published and well, it started an avalanche of hate speech and anti-Fallen propaganda. Ranging from blaming them for their shitty, Hellish fate to not doing enough to make their lives better, the sinners went feral on him and his kin. It was pretty awful.
Unsure what else to do, Lucifer slowly pulled away from the spotlight until he had completely isolated himself just to get away from it all. He knows that some of the criticisms aren't unfounded; Lucifer never involved himself in politics, and when he did, it was only in favor of Hellborn-related issues and urban planning. The resentment and vitriol of sinners (and his ex-wife, apparently) are all just consequences of him being an absent, apathetic ruler, he knows.
Still, it's never nice to hear things like that. It's why he never bothers to watch television anymore… aside from the whole brain-scrambling thing, of course.
"Gee, I can relate, kiddo. That sounds pretty awful," he says rather lamely, wincing again. Drawing circles in the water, he says, "I wish I could do something to help you out somehow. Do you need me to go King of Hell on some people, or?"
Charlie laughs, and the beautiful sound eases the tension in Lucifer's shoulders a tiny bit. "Thanks for offering, dad, but I think I got this. I should learn to fight my own battles instead of relying on other people. Let's just… talk about something else, okay?"
"Right. We can do that." Lucifer coughs into his fist. "S-So, uh, who's the other person who joined your marshmallow game? If it's not that Alastor prick."
"Oh, it's Angel's friend, Cherri Bomb! You remember Cherri Bomb, right?" Charlie doesn't wait for Lucifer to respond before adding, "She visited the hotel tonight for some reason, but I guess Angel called her over to hang out somewhere since they left after the game. I'm not complaining though 'cause we all got to know her a little! We were teamed up for the challenge, you see."
"Yes, I do see," Lucifer says, smiling. He lifts his other leg to stretch that too, and after a few kicks and foot rotations, he drops it back into the water, making another loud plop sound. Reaching for a rubber duck wearing three pairs of sunglasses, he pushes it on the water with his finger. "So what happened next? Who won the challenge?"
"There's that sound again. What is that?" Charlie asks. "And Cherri and I won! She's actually really smart, dad. Did you know she makes her own bombs? Which… I do not entirely approve of, but she definitely knows her way with materials! You'd probably get along with her, I think."
"I look forward to speaking with her more. She's Angel Dust's cyclops friend, right?" Charlie hums her affirmative. Lucifer moves the phone from the right to left shoulder before reaching for something on the floor. He stares at the bottle of apple and mint shampoo for a beat before saying, "And I'm just taking a bath, kiddo. Felt a little gross and sweaty after dinner. Just gonna start on the shampoo now—"
"Is that the one I just sent over? Don't open it yet!" Charlie cuts him off. Lucifer's sharp claw, which was supposed to open the cap, hangs in the air as Charlie says, "I mean, you should probably let your hair soak in the water a bit more. At least that's what I would do! Granted, my hair is longer than yours but…"
"Okay? If you say so." Lucifer glances between the shampoo bottle and his phone. Shrugging, he lets it drop down to the water with another loud plop, but he doesn't let go of it yet. "Thank you for sending the shampoo over, by the way. I'd use my usual one, but it's… well."
"Not working out?" Charlie finishes for him, chuckling. There's some fumbling in the background, which makes Lucifer think she's probably lying down somewhere right now. "Auntie Bee said so, anyway, when she asked where it was. I'm glad to have helped in any way I can! I know you're not exactly feeling well at the moment. Or you haven't been for a while."
"Ah, y-yeah," Lucifer says with a forced laugh, scratching his cheek with the cap part of the bottle. His smile drops as he glances at his stomach. "Not feeling well. Right."
"…You really can't tell me what's wrong with you?" Charlie asks after several beats of silence. He hears more fumbling, and vague sounds of rhythmic thumping. The sound reminds him of the times he paced in his room in bare hooves. "Look, dad, I know Auntie Bee and Uncle Mammon said I should wait for you to come around, and I really should respect your boundaries but… dad, it's driving me a little crazy, to be honest. Can you tell me what's going on? Please?"
"Oh, Char-Char." Lucifer finally drops the shampoo in the water completely, watching it float around (and squirm?) in the water. He bites his lip and looks around the bathroom with large, dilated eyes. "I would love to tell you everything right now, but it's a little… heavy. No, it's very heavy. And weird. Mostly heavy. In fact, it's so serious I'd rather tell you in person. I'm just going to need more time to figure out how. I'm sorry."
"You're not dying, right?" Charlie asks in a quiet voice. Her next few words start to break a little. "I-I'm not going to lose you, right?"
"Hell no!" Lucifer shoots up, causing the water to slosh around the sides of the bathtub. He sees his nude reflection in a full-length mirror on the opposite wall and sits back down, blushing. "I mean, of course you're not losing me. Daddy's not leaving you anytime soon. Or at all. I don't actually know if I can die. It's been 10,000 years, and your grandfather has yet to do anything about it, so—"
"Dad, please," Charlie begs.
"…Right. Right. Sorry." Lucifer pinches the space between his eyes and lets out a long, deep breath. He slumps against the curved rim of the bathtub, tapping the water a few times before saying, "What I mean to say is… what I'm going through isn't bad in a sense—in fact some people would even argue that it's a good thing! But it's going to bring a significant change in our lives. And it'll definitely change the way you look at me. I think."
"That still sounds pretty bad to me, dad," Charlie ventures slowly, but there's a small laugh in her voice. That's fine. Lucifer can deal with discomfort. Despair, though… "So you're not actually sick, then? Husk keeps saying that you're not, but I dunno, I still can't understand why I can't see you if nothing terrible is happening to you."
"You'll understand perfectly why when I finally tell you," Lucifer says, chuckling a bit. He wiggles his toes under the water and sighs. "I'm going to be honest with you, Char-Char, I think I'm just… scared of your reaction."
"Scared? Why would you be scared?"
"Because it's heavy , like I said. I'm not kidding when I say that this will change everything. And you're probably going to resent me for keeping this from you for so long."
"…So this has been going on for a long time?"
"Yeah. Since you were born, even."
"Oh, wow." Charlie laughs a little, sounding manic. Lucifer can relate. "That's… that does sound kinda heavy, all right! Wow. Um, okay. I still don't like it, but I think I understand why you need time to figure things out."
"Thank you, Charlie," Lucifer says. After a few beats, he sighs and stares at the wedding band around his finger. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. That we didn't tell you sooner. This would be a lot easier if your mother were here to tell you this with me, but as it is…"
"…It has something to do with mom?" Charlie lets out a deep breath. The thumping sounds start again. "Okay, first Auntie Bee says something about mom, now my own dad says she's involved in whatever's wrong with him, and now I'm starting to think…"
"Uh, Charlie, dear?" Lucifer prompts when she trails off, blinking at his phone.
"Oh, sorry! Just um, thinking." The thumping noises stop. Then, after a beat, they resume quickly before stopping again. "But anyway, if you're not actually sick, then I guess it's… well, not fine, but tolerable. Are you doing okay, anyway? You're probably by yourself…"
"Oh, I am now," Lucifer says, staring at the door. "But your aunts and uncles came by today to see me. I was… well, they helped me out, which I appreciate. They took time out of their busy days, too. It's not easy managing your own Ring."
"They visited?" Charlie asks, her voice going up a pitch. After a beat, she says, "Auntie Bee said mo—that she and the other Sins can't visit the palace because of the wards. Was that a lie?"
Lucifer pauses, watching the rubber duck (and shampoo bottle) pass him by in the water. With a sigh, he nods and says, "I'm afraid it's true, kiddo. Your mom had apparently blocked them from the wards at one point. I never really checked because stuff like that is her thing."
"Is that even true? They could be just saying that."
"Your uncle Leviathan showed me the array circuit board. It has her magic all over it. I'm sorry."
And he truly is. If he had just been more present, more vigilant, he could have prevented this. Even if Lilith had been keeping Charlie away from him and his angelic influence, she couldn't have stopped his friends from visiting their only niece. Could things have gone differently if Charlie had had her aunts and uncles from the very beginning? Would Lilith and Lucifer still be together? Would he have met Alastor and had these children with him?
So many questions, but the answers don't really matter, do they? Lucifer is a being of many talents, but changing the past is sadly not one of them.
'Hopefully the future will be brighter,' he thinks to himself, rubbing his belly.
"…Why would she block them, though?" Lucifer almost jumps when he hears Charlie's soft voice. Oh, right. He's still on the phone. "They're family, right? Mom used to say that she and I should stick together because we're family. But she left you, and because of that I never… I don't get it."
Lucifer sighs and pinches the space between his eyes, feeling resigned. Not for the first time since Lilith up and left, he wishes she was here to at least help him explain. He's aware that he should be picking up the slack, but this is an issue that both of them should be discussing with their daughter. Thinking this, he feels a sharp spike of resentment in his core, making him jolt.
He shakes his head frantically, gripping the side of his head with his other hand. No, he refuses to go there. No matter what had gone on between them, Lucifer promised that he would never, ever resent Lilith. It was his fault she left. He doesn't have the right to hate her for something he did.
"Dad? You still there?"
"…Yes, sweetie, I'm here." Unlike a certain someone. Lucifer takes a few deep breaths. "Anyway, I don't know the details; just that your aunts and uncles don't really get along with your mother. It goes way back to when we Fell, I think. They refuse to tell me exactly what went down, but I have a few guesses. I can start probing a little since it's been so long ago."
"Why don't you know? Where were you when you Fell?" Charlie asks.
'In a dark place,' Lucifer thinks to himself. "I took the brunt of the punishment when we were forced to Fall. I… wasn't aware of a lot of things for a few hundred years. By the time I came to grips, your mother had already founded Hell."
"…I see."
"We can find out together soon, if you'd like? After I finally tell you what's going on with me first, anyway."
Charlie doesn't speak for a while, making Lucifer wonder if their connection got disconnected. Then she sighs. "Okay. I mean, that's a lot to take in, but I'll take you up on that offer one day. So how are they able to visit now? Is it because mom's been gone for a while?"
"I'm not really sure, sweetie," Lucifer says slowly. Then he winces as he makes circles in the water with a clawed finger. "But I think I mostly had something to do with it. I tweaked the wards a few weeks ago, so I must have reset it somehow, and wap, there they are."
"Oh, right," Charlie says. "You blocked me from the wards. Yeah, I think that makes sense."
Lucifer winces again. Clutching onto the phone with both hands, he whispers, "I'm so sorry about that, Charlie. Please don't hate me. Please."
"Oh no, dad, it's fine! Don't worry, I… I get it. I was being pushy." Charlie pauses for a beat before saying, with a small laugh, "Anyway, even if it wasn't fine, you don't have to worry too much. I don't think I can hate you no matter what happens. I love you, you know? More than anything."
"Oh, my little Charlie," Lucifer says after several beats of silence. He wipes the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand and says, sniffling, "I love you, too. M-More than anything."
"Dad…"
"Charlie…"
Lucifer sits in the tub for several minutes, listening to his daughter sniffling and crying on the other line. But that's okay because he's also crying and he's in a freaking bathtub , so he's doing a lot worse.
"Mi cielo?" Lucifer hears from the other line after a long while. There's a sound of the door creaking and closing, then the voice sounds closer when it says, "There's something I need to—oh, sorry, are you talking to your dad?"
"It's fine, Vaggie. And yeah, we finally had the chance to chat." Lucifer can't help but wince at that. Has it really been that long since he left the hotel? "And I should probably let him rest. We've been talking for hours, I think. Dad, can I call you again tomorrow?"
"O-Oh, sure, kiddo! Anything for you," Lucifer says, chuckling. He clears his throat and says, "Though I'm not sure what time I'll be up. Can you call around lunch time to be safe?"
"Sure, dad." Lucifer can hear the smile in Charlie's voice. "Good night. And… thank you for reaching out first. That really means a lot to me. And I really am sorry for the misunderstanding before. I won't assume the worst of you again next time."
"No worries, Charlie. I would have thought the same in your position." Lucifer pauses for a beat before sighing. "And let that pr— Alastor know that I'm sorry for hurting him. And… thanks for telling you the truth."
"Oh, sure! I'll let him know," Charlie chirps. "Did you get his jambalaya, by the way? I noticed Uncle Mammon holding a food container before they left. That was his jambalaya, right?"
"Um." Lucifer blushes and beats his chest with his fist, wheezing. "Oh, yeah, I did get it. Gobbled it all up earlier, too. I've been craving meaty food for a while, so it really hit the spot."
"…Meat? You're craving meat ?" Charlie asks.
"Oh, look at the time! I'm starting to get pruny," Lucifer says, laughing loudly as he makes waves in the water. He makes kissy noises at the phone and wiggles his fingers at it. "Good night, sweetie! Tell Maggie I said hi!"
"Okay, dad. Good night! Love you."
"Love you too, kiddo. Sweet dreams," he says. He taps on the button on the screen to end the call, then slides down the rim of the tub till he's nose-deep into the water. He watches the rubber duck and shampoo float past him, and he emerges from the water and takes a deep breath, making himself cough.
Damn, he hasn't talked that long in years. But it's worth it if he's able to clear the air with his daughter a little. He still isn't convinced that everything is okay—he did block her from the wards and he's pretty sure that's gotta sting—but they're on the right track, he thinks. He looks down at his growing tummy and sighs, patting it a few times under the water.
"See that? Daddy's a huge mess," he says, smirking a little. "If I can't take care of one child, how am I expected to take care of two? I'll mess up with the two of you too, for sure. Yippee."
He hears a plopping sound from the foot of the tub, making him look up suddenly. He stares unblinkingly as the shampoo bottle… jumps up and down the water. He freezes for a beat before standing up and sitting on the edge of the tub, far, far away from whatever evil spirit has decided to possess his shampoo.
Should he get an exorcist? Oh, wait, that's probably a bad idea, given recent events.
The bottle spins and jumps some more, seemingly angling itself towards him. Lucifer doesn't know if hallucinations are a pregnancy symptom or not, but he swears that it seems to be… talking to him somehow? Snapping his fingers, he summons the shampoo bottle in his hands. It goes completely still in his grasp, and he scratches his head at it, wondering if he is just imagining things.
Running his fingers through his hair, he recalls that he needs to use the shampoo anyway. He uncaps the bottle and cups his hand to catch the liquid, but instead of shampoo, all he gets is a gust of red (?) air that whooshes past him, causing him to slip back into the tub and spill water all over the marble tiles. He coughs the water out of his lungs and beats his chest with his fist. "What the—"
Lucifer is interrupted by a high-pitched bleat and a flap of wings. Blinking one eye after the other, he looks up to see his guest smiling down at him. He gasps. "Razzle?"
His daughter's little helper bleats again, making loops in the air. He flies closer to Lucifer and pulls out something from his blazer pocket. He hands the folded note to Lucifer who blinks down at it.
His confusion is quickly replaced by guilt when he opens and reads it:
"Hi, dad," the first line reads. "I don't know when you're going to see this, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for doubting you and making you feel worse than you already do. I told Razzle to stay with you and help you out until you get better. Hopefully we can talk soon because I miss you.
"Get well soon, dad. I love you more than anything. Char-Char."
Razzle bleats sadly as he hovers next to a sniffling Lucifer. He conjures a tissue from thin air and offers it to h, bleating encouragingly as he blows into it.
"Thank you, Razzle." Lucifer hands the dirty tissue to Razzle when he asks for it, and it disappears in a puff of smoke. Lucifer sighs deeply and leans back against the tub, rubbing his face in different directions. "Gah, I feel horrible. What do I even say to this? Do I even bother saying anything? Will anything I do or say be enough to make up for this?"
"Baa. Baa, baa, baabaa."
"Damn, boy, that's kinda harsh. Where'd you learn that word? I should wash your mouth with soap, mister!"
"Baa, baa, ba-baa. Baa!"
"…You know what? You're right. Instead of feeling sorry for myself like a fucking loser, I should just get a grip and tell her. Right?"
"Baa!" Razzle grins and gives him a thumbs up, bleating happily. Lucifer nods to himself and punches his palm with a fist.
"All right! That settles it! I will tell Charlie about becoming a big sister!" Lucifer announces, standing up and holding a finger up in the air. After a beat, he deflates a little and says, "Eventually! But soon-ish. Maybe in a week. Belphy says I should take it easy for a while 'cause I have not been eating properly and the kids need to be monitored. For health reasons. Yes."
Lucifer jumps at the loud, high-pitched scream. He turns to Razzle who is staring between him and his stomach, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He blinks one eye after the other, and after a few beats, he laughs nervously and scratches at his cheek.
"Oh, right, you didn't know." Lucifer clears his throat, sitting back in the water. Complete with jazz hands, he proclaims, "Surprise, I'm pregnant! By accident. It's a long story. But don't tell Charlie anything! That's my job."
"…"
"Aww, come on, don't make that face! Anyway, I need to wash my hair. Can you make yourself useful and pass me the shampoo bottle? Wherever it is."
"BAAAAAA!"
A week passes by since his friends found out about his little problem, and throughout it all, Lucifer allows himself to be subjected to various forms of pampering, nagging, and medical examinations. The first two were tolerable, but Lucifer had very little patience for the last one. From ultrasounds to urine tests, Lucifer sucked whatever little pride he had left and just rolled with it with a bright, forced smile.
While he understands that this is all to make sure that the babies (plural!!) are developing well and healthily, he still doesn't see the point. He never had to do so many complicated tests during his pregnancy with Charlie. He just went into labor one day and snapped his fingers—then bam, a squalling Charlotte Morningstar materialized in his arms. Cut umbilical cord and all.
Lucifer smugly tells Belphegor so on the third day, but after getting a quiet, unimpressed stare in response, Lucifer smartly keeps his thoughts to himself from then on.
"The babies seem stable," Belphegor says to him on the fifth day, studying the sonogram she just printed out. Reaching out with a free appendage, she grabs hold of a chart hanging by the foot of his bed and skims through the papers. Looking between the sonogram and the chart, she nods and hums. "Which makes sense, because your recent stats are ideal. Let me know if you suffer from nosebleeds or stuffiness since blood flow tends to increase around this time—for sinner pregnancies, anyway, but we shouldn't leave out the possibility. How's your nausea, by the way? Still a problem?"
"I don't think so. It was only a problem at the start, I think," Lucifer says, frowning thoughtfully as Belphegor hands him the sonogram photos. He coos down at the photos, pupils dilating. "Aww, look at 'em, Belphy! They're so beautiful. They're going to look like me for sure."
"Well, they're tiny, so I can definitely see the resemblance." Belphegor doesn't bother blocking the duck-shaped pillow thrown at her face and lets it fall down to the floor in a sad, yellow lump. She picks it up with her magic and throws it back at him with twice the amount of force. "But that's good. Are you still reacting badly to certain smells?"
"Hey, that hurt!" Lucifer growls at her, throwing it back. This time she does dodge it, and it knocks down the rubber duck tower he had constructed in the center of the room last night. He holds his face in his hands and screams, "Nooooo, my architectural masterpiece!"
"My condolences. It was a work of art," Belphegor says blandly, bowing her head in the direction of the destroyed tower. She pulls out a pen from her lab coat and uses her magic to tap it on the top edge of the clipboard. "Anyway. Smells?"
Lucifer scowls at her, but he shakes his head anyway. "No, no vomit-inducing smells so far. There was my old shampoo, but I have a new one so it's whatever. I still get a bit dizzy every now and then, though. Is that normal?"
"Light-headedness is normal, especially at this stage. Changes in your blood vessels can do that. Just sit down whenever this happens and take a few deep breaths." Belphegor's pen starts taking notes as she speaks. "Also, take it easy on the hearty, oily food. You've been getting heartburn recently, right?"
Lucifer wheezes at this and beats his chest with his fist. After a beat, he looks up at her and says, "No."
Belphegor closes her eyes and sighs. "All right. What have you been eating behind my back this time? A bag of sugar?"
"No, I haven't been eating too much sugar," Lucifer responds. Then, with a sullen voice, adds, "In fact, I haven't been eating much sweet food at all recently. And I love sweets!"
And that really is a fact. When Lucifer had been carrying Charlie, he craved sweets like a man desperately looking for an oasis in the desert—that is, he went absolutely bonkers at the mere thought of sugar. He craved sweet fruits, decadent pastries, and, you guessed it, syrupy pancakes. It had been scary at first, searching for something he couldn't name, but Lilith had made him pancakes one time, and to say he devoured an entire stack in seconds would be an understatement.
Lilith had smiled so sweetly and indulgently at him back then, and it was the softest he had seen her since… well, Eden, he supposes. She made him pancakes for breakfast whenever she could since then—even going as far as to treat him to breakfast in bed on particularly good days. Lucifer had always had a sweet tooth, sure… but pancakes became something special to him from then on. In fact, it was the only thing he insisted on eating when Lilith eventually left with Charlie (if he even felt like eating, that is).
But now, though? Now he can't fucking stand it.
"I think Mammon cursed me. I blame him for this," he finally says, pouting at the sheets. He leans back against the pillows and crosses his arms over his chest. "If I even think about sweets, I feel like vomiting my guts out. It's just so… Bleh."
"I thought nausea wasn't a problem?" Belphegor asks with an eyeroll. When Lucifer just sticks his tongue out at her, she rolls her eyes again and shakes her head. "So sugar's out. What is it, then?"
"Nothing! I've been completely well-behaved this past week, I promise!"
"Oh, really? Do you mean to tell me you haven't been eating anything unhealthy at all? Let's say… something that starts with 'j' and ends with 'ambalaya made by a certain overlord sinner?'"
"You think you're funny, Belphy, but you're just a bitch."
"That's not a no. You've been smooth-talking the lower-ranked Fallen to go against my orders, haven't you?"
"Of course not!" Lucifer denies a bit too quickly to be believable. When Belphegor just raises a brow at him, he throws his hands in the air and screeches, "Well, okay, fine, so I asked Gadreel not to throw away that asshole's food after you told them to! Big deal! Wasting food is a sin!"
"We're in Hell, you idiot."
"And can you blame me? Alastor's jambalaya is good. Don't get me wrong; the guy's not worth the oxygen he breathes, but he at least knows his way around the kitchen, so he's not completely useless. So sue me for wanting to enjoy life while I'm growing actual life inside me."
"Didn't I tell you the first time Mammon came by with it?" Belphegor says sternly, completely ignoring his dramatic tirade. Her eyeglasses flash ominously when she adjusts them on her face. "You need to take better care of your health for the kids' sake. You're susceptible to heartburn. Spicy food causes heartburn. Do you want to spend your life hindered by acid reflux?"
"Ah, my true enemy," Lucifer says, looking into the distance. He reaches out to nothing before clenching his fist, looking pained and helpless. "One day I will vanquish you. Vanquish you, I say!"
"You can vanquish it by listening to me, you dipshit," Belphegor says. She claps her appendages to summon a swirling vortex that sucks all of her tools and machines back in her gladstone bag. Snapping the bag close, she waves it away from existence and says to Lucifer, "Well, that's all I'm in the mood for today. Be a good boy and try not to kill yourself and the babies. Resurrection will cost you extra."
"Wait, you're leaving?" Lucifer balks, crawling on his hands and knees on the bed as he follows her. "Already? Why!"
"Because I have a surgery like… yesterday. Hopefully the poor fucker's still alive 'cause they already made a down payment and I'm not going through all the paperwork to refund the family," says Belphegor. Clapping her appendages, she summons a portal to the Ring of Sloth; baby blue clouds rolling lazily in the baby pink background. Lucifer wants his nursery to look like that. "If anything happens, try not to contact me, all right? Get the others to help you, or that little… thing Charlie sent you."
"Razzle is not a thing!" Lucifer denies hotly. As if summoned, the dragon-goat hybrid pops into existence; his eyes facing different directions as he flies next to Lucifer's head. "He is my daughter's bodyguard. And my temporary helper. Hey, Raz, can you get me something to eat? Something meaty."
"Baa!" Razzle bleats and nods, disappearing in a pop.
"Well, then Razzle can help you out for now," Belphegor says. After a pause, she adds, "The others are sure to be busy, anyway. We have other things to do than keep an eye on you, you know."
"Like gossip behind my back?" Lucifer goads. When Belphegor just blinks at him, he shakes his fist at her and yells, "Don't think I haven't noticed you guys whispering about something whenever you think I'm distracted! You're hiding something from me, I just know it!"
"Nothing gets past you, huh?" Belphegor says, snorting. "Maybe those keen observations skills are what got us to win the rebellion… oh, wait."
"FUCK YOU! You mock me now, but I'll find out what you guys are keeping from me! Eventually!" Lucifer calls out as Belphegor makes a lazy salute and hops into the portal, disappearing in a zap of light. He stares at the empty space in the room and harrumphs. "Not even a goodbye? Rude bitch."
He hears a bleat and a beating of wings to his right. Razzle flies above him, offering a plate of beef jerky. Instantly, his mouth waters, and he accepts the plate with teary eyes and a quivering mouth.
"Oh, Razzle, you fun-sized little sweetheart. I appreciate you so much," Lucifer says to the dragon-goat hybrid; the strips of jerky coated in a divine aura in his eyes. He pops a strip into his mouth and chews. "You know what goes well with beef jerky? Some of that prick's jambalaya. Rendezvous with Gadreel and pick up the contraband, why don't you?"
Razzle salutes in a cutesy way before disappearing again, and Lucifer wishes that Belphegor is still here so that she can see how it's truly done. Clearly she's not as smart if a homunculus of his creation can salute better than her. What a quack.
He settles back against the large, fluffy pillows, shimmying down a little to get more comfortable. Placing the plate of beef jerky in his lap, he pops a strip into his mouth and moans; his head falling back in ecstasy. "Fuck, that hits the spot."
Man, meat is great. Why did he avoid most meats again? Past Lucifer was such a stupid little bitch, wasn't he? Fuck him.
'Although,' he thinks, frowning down at the plate. He dangles a single strip of jerky in front of him, squinting. 'Something is still missing.'
While eating meat satisfies a huge chunk of his cravings at their worst, Lucifer still finds himself chasing after a certain… flavor? Texture? He can't describe it, and it's starting to get to him, to be honest.
'Well,' Lucifer thinks to himself, chewing slowly on the jerky strip. When he runs out of beef jerky, he continues to chew on his own finger, drawing blood. He looks at it contemplatively for a few beats before grumbling to himself. Pushing the plate off his lap, Lucifer hugs a pillow to his chest and pouts. 'At least the cravings won't last. I can hold out until then, right?'
Hopefully some of that prick's jambalaya will satisfy him. Lucifer doesn't know why the bastard keeps sending him batches of it every day, but hey, Lucifer isn't going to complain. In fact, Alastor should be sending him food! It's only fair, since Lucifer is selflessly growing his demon deer spawn. Not that Alastor knows that, but still!
… It's really nice of him to do this, though. He's a big softie, after all! Who knew? The thought puts an image of Alastor smiling down at him softly, his long lashes framing his glowing red eyes oh-so prettily. Loath is Lucifer to admit, but Alastor is a pretty handsome fucker (when you look reaaaaally closely). He must have a lot of admirers, even if he's got the personality of a sweaty, dirty sock. He probably uses his good looks to aid his evil schemes, looming over his victims all sultry-eyed and speaking to them in that crooning, seductive voice…
Lucifer feels heat building up between his legs, so he lifts the blanket to inspect. A beat later, he hastily covers his lap and snaps his legs shut, blushing from his cheeks down to his neck.
"Wow, I must really want some jambalaya!" Lucifer says loudly, forcing out a laugh. He waits for a few beats, staring expectantly at the spot where Razzle vanished. His little helper should be coming back with a steaming bowl of jambalaya aaaaany minute now. He taps his fingers on his arms, counting the seconds that pass.
Ten seconds turn to thirty. Thirty seconds turn to a minute. A minute turns to two. At the three-minute mark, his claws catch on the fine silk of his pajamas, and he seethes.
What's taking Razzle so long?!
He growls and throws the pillow at the door. Grumbling under his breath, he settles back on the pillows… only to fall back a little because he just threw one of the big pillows across the room. Mood quickly declining, he reaches for his duck pillow… only to realize that he had thrown that at Belphegor earlier too.
He whines and drops his head back, kicking his feet in a tiny tantrum. "Ughhh, I want my duck pillow—oof!"
Something soft falls on his face, and he sits up to shout at whoever thought it was funny to do that to him in his state. But he sees no one; instead, whatever had hit him in the face falls on his lap, and he blinks down at his favorite duck pillow. He holds it up in front of him, squinting like he expects it to 'fess up and tell him what just happened.
Nothing. It stares back at him silently with its black, beady eyes, unwilling to sell out its accomplice.
Lucifer looks around the room in suspicion. Is someone here with him?
After a few beats of silence, Lucifer shrugs and hugs the duck pillow to his chest. Maybe hallucinations are a pregnancy symptom after all! Or maybe the duck pillow finally sensed that he meant business, so it came back to him out of self-preservation. He reaches for the plate of beef jerky, only to find it… gone. What the fuck?
He looks around for it, pulling up the blankets to see if he had accidentally hidden it there for some reason. Then he turns to his right, where he sees it placed neatly on the nightstand next to a glass of water.
He blinks one eye after the other. Okaaaay.
"Freaky," Lucifer mutters under his breath, grabbing the plate. He looks around contemplatively, trying to see if there is anything else in the room that's strange. His gaze falls on the previously fallen tower of rubber ducks, which has been rebuilt. He rubs his eyes, blinking at the tower like he expects it to fall apart again.
But it's still standing, like someone really fixed it up for him. Like his bed sheets the other day. Or the bubble bath that he loudly proclaimed that he wanted to have and found waiting for him a few minutes later.
Weird. Really, really weird. He should probably be worried about this, right?
…
He blows a raspberry and laughs. Ha , him, worried about some supernatural activity? That's funny. Lucifer should be more worried about Razzle, to be honest, because that homunculus was taking its time and he's running out of beef jerky!
"I'm just tired. This is probably nothing," Lucifer says to himself, smiling. He chews on some jerky and nods to himself. "Yeah. This is nothing."
He doesn't notice settling comfortably against the fluffy pillow he just threw at the door earlier, nor does he notice the tall shadow growing in size on the headboard behind him, watching his every move.
A week passes by since the Sins of Greed and Gluttony first came to disturb his peace, and Alastor thinks that it's about time he stops dragging his feet. Letting his broken bones heal had been a great excuse to delay his visit to Rosie, but this wretched feeling bubbling up in his chest is becoming harder and harder to ignore. It's also becoming such a hindrance in his life—why, this morning he couldn't even summon the will to cook everyone jambalaya for lunch, as he is wont to do for his dysfunctional hotel crew.
Because suddenly the ingredients aren't good enough, or the flavors are too rich, or the rice is undercooked or overcooked. Everyone says it's fine, delicious even, but Alastor barely acknowledges these perfunctory platitudes; preoccupied with his own insecurities as he is.
No, it doesn't matter what they think. He just imagines Lucifer's reaction to eating such subpar cooking, and he just gets so agitated that he barely has the energy to cook at all. What nonsense.
That is when he realizes that this isn't normal. Why does he care so much about what the absent king thinks? Why, he ought to make the worst jambalaya ever just to spite him! In fact, Alastor should just poison Lucifer and be done with it. Then maybe he will finally be rid of that—or those? Hellhounds sire multiples, don't they?—useless spawn that's growing inside him. Lucifer might even be grateful for his service! Oh, the things Alastor would make him do in repayment.
…
It's time he gets to the bottom of this.
Alastor checks his reflection in the wall mirror above his dresser, making sure the flick of his hair is just right. He adjusts the monocle on his face—brand new, as his usual one had been destroyed by that loathsome, gluttonous mutt—and surveys his clothes. Cannibal Town is far from an upper crust district, but it's respectable and formal, which is sadly rare in Pentagram City. It will not look good on him or the hotel if he looks even the slightest bit unkempt.
(One of the very few lessons he is grateful to receive from his disgraced, blue-blood father is the one about manners and etiquette. Sadly, the dud of a parent couldn't even practice what he preached, even in his last moments under Alastor's vengeful hand!)
Checking his reflection one last time, he gives his reflection a nod and turns to the side to do the same, but he pauses when he finds the spot on the floor devoid of any presence.
Alastor frowns and taps the floor with his feet, finding absolutely no shadow cast. He tuts irritably; he had tasked his little helper to spy on Lucifer and the Sins, hoping it would return with information on the spawn's sire's identity and whereabouts. But the impulsive, chaotic thing hasn't come back at all, and Alastor wonders if it had been caught and held captive. But surely the Sins would come confront him here if that was the case?
'And they have been quiet as of late,' Alastor thinks as he summons a tendril from the room's shadows to collect this morning's paper. He narrows his eyes at the front page where last week's impromptu visit is featured for all of Pride's denizens to see.
"A Sinful Social?" reads the headline in big, bold font, printed above a blurry photo of Mammon on the ground, shaking his fists at a hovering, seemingly unimpressed Beelzebub. "Greed King Mammon and Gluttony Queen Beelzebub Seen Gracing the Steps of Hazbin Hotel."
Alastor scowls, reading the first few paragraphs of the story before engulfing the newspaper in green fire. He approaches the floor to ceiling windows in his room; hands clasped behind him. Looking towards the hotel gates, he observes for a few beats. His ears flick in recognition when he sees a hint of movement behind one of the columns.
With a snap of his fingers, one of his shadowy tendrils appears from beyond the gates and flicks the spy across the horizon; his screams fading and fading… until it is silent once more.
This must be Vox's doing, then. The journalists have been quite voracious lately, but Alastor had thought nothing of it. Perhaps he can send a message to his old business partner on the way to Rosie's. Let it not be said that Alastor cannot multitask!
After observing through the windows for a few more beats, Alastor disappears into the shadows, materializing at the foot of the stairs in the lobby in a cloud of black smoke soon after. Sensing company, his ears perk in the direction of the renovated bar, which is bigger in size to accommodate a larger number of guests. It is also a lot brighter; Beelzebub's little present glimmering above the bar like an annoying, perpetually shining disco ball. Alastor eyes it with disdain for a few beats before settling his gaze on the two occupants at the bar.
Husk is mixing a drink with Angel Dust hunched over the counter, speaking in low tones. While Alastor isn't surprised at their close proximity—the two of them seem to be en route to a relationship, of sorts, though Alastor gleefully observes that only Angel Dust seems to be aware of this—the whispering and closed-off body language is new, given that Angel Dust has never cared who may be listening to what.
"Curious," Alastor whispers to himself, humming. He narrows his eyes at the pair; the tension in his shoulders growing more taut by the second. Why does he have a bad feeling about this?
He slips silently into the shadows. Only one way to find out.
"…I'm telling you, Husk, it's driving me nuts," Angel Dust whispers harshly, grasping his head with two hands as one nurses a half-finished drink. His remaining free fingers tap a distracted tune on the counter; his eyes shifting to the sides. "Like, I really, really want to tell Charlie so bad. It ain't fair that Lucifer is keeping this from her! Shouldn't she be the first to know this shit? It's so fucked up!"
"Well, you're not wrong, Angel," Husk responds in a low voice. He takes the empty glass from Angel Dust after he downs it, pushing a freshly-made cocktail towards him to replace it. "But it's not our call to make. Whatever's keeping His Majesty from telling Charlie the truth, that's his business. And the last thing we want is to meddle in his business."
"Like Lucifer will hurt us! He's a huge softie. And Charlie likes us too much for him to do that," Angel argues, crossing his arms over his chest.
"It's not us who's gonna get hurt from this, Angel," Husk says slowly, wiping the counter down with a rag. "The last thing Charlie needs is to find out from someone else. It's Lucifer's secret to tell, so back off."
"Like you weren't about to tell her what it was!"
"Yeah, and I'm glad I didn't. I would have regretted getting in the middle of that, and you will, too. So again: back off."
"But I can't!" Angel Dust kicks his feet and clenches his fists. He looks like he's about to explode from the way he's vibrating in his seat. "This is fuckin' huge, man! Who would'a guessed that Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, could get pregnant? Like what the fuck! How does that even work? He doesn't even have the right parts… right?"
"Maybe it's 'cause he's an angel?" Husk ventures, shrugging. His ears flick a few times, and he turns to the foot of the stairs. He frowns. "This is the guy who led a rebellion against God, man. He failed, sure, but how many people can claim to do all that? Plus, he can make rubber ducks out of crumpled up paper and paper clips. Is a kid really that much of a stretch with the right materials?"
"Uh, yes??" Angel Dust says, gesturing emphatically. "I've seen geniuses like Cherri Bomb make lethal weapons out of used tissue, for fuck's sake, but she never popped out a brat like that! Say, do you think this means that Lucifer gave birth to Charlie? Does she know?"
"That I dunno. The news said it was Lilith who gave birth to her. Not that I trust everything the news says." Husk's eyes shift. His gaze lands back on Angel Dust and he whispers, "Hey, keep it down, by the way. We don't want Charlie overhearing this."
"Well, maybe she should! Then we can finally get everyone to calm the fuck down because all this tension is killing me." Angel Dust slumps forward, almost knocking his cocktail out of the way. "Man, I wonder how Charlie would react when she realizes that she's got mommy issues, not daddy issues! Speaking of daddy, Alastor would freak when he finds out—"
"Shhh," Husk reaches out to cover Angel Dust's mouth. Angel looks between Husk's hand and face, going pink, but Husk doesn't notice; busy looking around as he is. He pulls his hand away and draws back, saying, "I think that's enough for now."
"Huh? Why, what's—"
"Just not now, all right? We can talk about this later—"
"Aww, how unfortunate. I was rather enjoying the gossip!" A static-y voice interrupts them, making them freeze in place. Alastor materializes from the shadows, going up to them to place both hands on their shoulders. "Might I convince you to continue? It seemed you were just getting to the good part!"
"Al," Husk greets gruffly, pulling away from his hand. He eyes Angel Dust briefly before turning to the Radio Demon. "Didn't know you were still here. Weren't you on the way to Rosie's, or something?"
"Or something," Alastor says vaguely, making jazz hands. His grin widens at the sight of Husk's scowl. "Why? Did you miss me?"
"Hardly," Husk mutters under his breath.
"Oh, you wound me, good sir," Alastor mock-laments, leaning against the counter and holding the back of his hand to his head, like some damsel in distress. "Perhaps Angel Dust will appreciate my presence! What say you, chum? Care to continue where you left off just now?"
"Uh," Angel Dust says, looking between Husk and Alastor. After a beat, he shrugs and leans on an elbow on the counter, inspecting his gloved fingers. "Depends. Time is money, Smiles. You gonna make it worth my time, hmm?"
"Oh, must everything be so transactional nowadays?" Alastor sighs, holding a hand to his chest and shaking his head in dismay. "And to think, I thought we were all getting along so well. We did save the city together, did we not? Does going into battle not bring a ragtag group of miserable souls together anymore?"
"You disappeared after half said battle, bub—"
"Goodness, what is this world coming to? Where is the companionship? The camaraderie? The magic of friendship? Oh, how dear Charlie would be so disappointed in us all."
"She's already disappointed, Al," Angel Dust says, waving his hands in the air. "People are keepin' important secrets from her, after all! But I guess it's none of our business, even if she's on the verge of a mental breakdown."
"Angel," Husk starts warningly. "Come on, man, let it go."
"What, it's true!" Angel Dust cries out, turning to Husk with a near-manic expression on his face. "I mean, wouldn't you want to know if your father's preg… oh, shit."
"Relax. I'm sure he already knows," Husk says, crossing his arms over his chest. He glances in Alastor's direction. "You do know, right?"
"That our deer sovereign is expecting?" Alastor asks, unable to hide the sneer in his grin. He turns away and waves a hand, huffing. "But of course, I do! You cannot hide anything from this nose. Your little advice back then also helped."
"Yeah." Husk sighs, shaking his head. "I did give you a hint, didn't I?"
"I'm still mad at you for not telling me first, ya know. How come Smiles gets a hint and I don't?" Angel Dust says, glaring a little at Husk. At the bartender's shrug, he rolls his eyes and turns back to Alastor with a considering look. "So you knew all along. That's… unexpected. I guess that's why you've been such a tetchy bitch lately? 'Cause he ain't here for you to look after?"
Alastor freezes. Why would they assume that? Are his intentions so transparent? Is he acting like a bumbling, simpering fool already? Surely not!
Flexing his fingers, he asks slowly, "Now why would I ever want to look after that pathetic, incompetent little fool? This is his own undoing. I have nothing to do with his careless mistake."
Angel Dust and Husk watch as the static around his form builds, and they draw back a little. They exchange looks briefly before Angel Dust says, a little boldly, "Ouch. So that's why you've been trying to kill each other. You didn't want it, did ya?"
Didn't want what? A pretender's spawn growing in the womb of the godly being that has been haunting him for the last few months? This festering feeling of restlessness and anxiety at Lucifer's absence; briefly replaced by a short-lived spark of anticipation and hope whenever he feels any form of magic within this blasted hotel? To have his thoughts so consumed with the promise of once again being able to see his angelic face, or to hear his annoying voice echo these halls, dark and devoid of a light that Alastor has come to yearn for, despite everything?
No, he doesn't want any of that. In fact, he never wanted any of this. Which is why he must go to Rosie and ask her what is truly wrong with him and how he can get rid of this disgusting feeling that's hindering his life. So he can be done with that insipid Lucifer Morningstar once and for all!
(Alastor ignores the tiny voice in his head that's telling him that he doesn't want that , either. Even if it does sound a lot like his mother.)
"Let me make this perfectly clear to you both," Alastor begins in a deceitfully calm voice that belies the way his growing claws grip and pierce the marble varnished wood of the counter. The ground beneath their feet shake as his antlers and torso stretch to loom above the cowering pair before him. "I will never, in a million years, ever want to have anything to do with that complacent, clumsy cretin, and if either of you dare to insinuate such a laughable, loathsome notion ever again, I will crush you both and feast on your flesh before you can even so much as blink. Your screams will be broadcasted throughout the entire city, and you can be sure that I will relish each and every second of it. Do you understand?"
They nod wordlessly, hugging each other for comfort as they stare fearfully up at him. Ah, he feels better already.
"Excellent." A satisfied smile replaces his snarl-like grin, and he reverts back to his original size and shape. After a few beats, he releases a laugh track to fill the air, chuckling along as if he hadn't just threatened the lives of his fellow hotel crew. "Well, I've wasted enough time already! A gentleman doesn't keep a lady waiting, you know."
Alastor hums to himself a jaunty tune as he walks over to the double doors. Feeling whimsical, he turns around and wiggles his fingers at the paralyzed pair in goodbye. "You kids better behave now! Don't go doing what I wouldn't do. Ta, ta! "
Even after Alastor closes the door shut behind him, Angel Dust still waits for a few beats before slumping against the counter and letting out a long, shaky breath. "Jesus. What the fuck was that about, huh? He could'a just said he never wanted to be a dad. Overdramatic freak."
"Well, he never seemed the type to want kids. Though his reaction was a little excessive," Husk says. After a pause, he turns to Angel and asks, a little hesitantly, "Do you think he never consented to it? Whatever it is that he and Lucifer got up to."
Angel blinks. Frowning, he looks down on his lap; mind racing. Then he shakes his head and says, "Nah, that can't be it. First of all, I don't see ol' Lucifer as the type to force himself on someone, King of Hell or not. And second, he asked me before about—ah, shit, I mean, I have reason to believe that Al likes Lucifer more than he lets on. Yeah."
"You sure about that?" Husk asks, raising a brow. "He's got a real freaky way of showing it, then. But I guess this is Alastor we're talking about. The psycho would consider attempting bodily harm as a come-on."
"Exactly!" Angel Dust says, holding his hands up. "So maybe he just ain't daddy material? He seemed a little crazier than usual when we talked about Lucifer being preggo with his kid."
"Kinda," Husk says. With a sigh, he waves a hand in the air as he leans on the counter. "Whatever. This is for the best, anyway. Alastor doesn't strike me as the nurturing type, so whatever brat that's unfortunate enough to share his DNA is gonna end up fucked in the head if he tries to raise it. His Majesty's gonna have to be a single parent, I guess."
"Yeah, that's probably for the best. But a child of theirs is gonna end up fucked in the head, anyway." Angel Dust leans forward to rest his chin on his hand, looking up at the ceiling. He giggles and snorts, turning around to gesture empathically. "Man, I still can't believe what I heard. Can you imagine? Lucifer, Big Daddy of Hell, pregnant with Alastor's brat. Ain't no way Hell is ready for something like that."
"What did you say?"
Husk and Angel Dust freeze. Slowly, they turn to the side, and their stomachs drop at seeing both Vaggie and Charlie standing a few feet away from them. Vaggie grips her spear tightly, wincing as she turns to look at Charlie, muttering under her breath in Spanish. Charlie is just standing there, holding a shaking hand to her chest; her mouth quivering as her eyes switch between her normal gaze and her demonic one. As if unsure.
"My dad," she begins, her quiet voice piercing the silence. Charlie swallows, and this time her eyes completely invert colors as she stares at the ground helplessly. "My dad is what now?"
Notes:Edit (6/2/2024): LOL Sorry for the delay guys, I have so many conventions lined up so I'm distracted OTL this isn't abandoned dw! 😂
*takes a deep breath* HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII~ lol it's been a hot minute since my last update. And I do mean hot because the heat in my country is no joke like, wow. It's mostly the reason why I'm so demotivated to do anything, especially write. That and this chapter was strangely hard to write for some reason l;aksdl;aksd
also HAHAHAHA Charlie knows!! Angel Dust and his big mouth xD But we won't see the aftermath of that until like, the chapter after the next. Next chapter will mostly be Alastor-centric. I previously considered including his talk with Rosie here, but it's a little heavy, so I thought it might be better to just give Alastor his own chapter haha
Anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEING PATIENT 🙏🙏🙏 And thank you also for leaving kudos and comments! I'll respond to last chapter's comments soon. The number is so overwhelming a;lskdl;askld but I READ THEM ALL DW!! I appreciate you all for taking the time to tell me what you think of this story. See you next time!!
Edit: I FINALLY SKETCHED THE TWINS 💖 their design isn't final yet but you can have a look down at the link hehe. I don't have names for them yet so feel free to suggest~ I'm leaning more towards Alastor naming them so keep his tastes in mind xD