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resist much, obey little (ch 3)

Alastor had a noose around his neck.

There was only one person who could loosen it.

---

Temptation had never strung Lucifer along. He was an angel of Heaven no matter what anyone else said, and he had never fallen whim to any of the sins that humans were so eager to do.

And Alastor, a demon and a sinner who had fallen even further after death, was the most forbidden fruit of all.

He was the very embodiment of blasphemy.

But by God, did Lucifer want him.

There was some rustling.

Quiet.

Rustling…

Quiet.

Rustling -

“Your Majesty. May I implore what it is that’s bothering you?”

Alastor’s voice was as pleasant as ever, but it was thick with both annoyance and weariness. It was also a little too close to Lucifer's right ear for comfort, and the archangel wondered what it was that got him in this situation in the first place.

This being their current arrangement. Lucifer was hogging the entire left side of the massive bed while Alastor was somewhere on the right.

Lucifer had attempted to make some kind of barrier for the preservation of his own dignity by using a mountain of pillows stacked precariously on top of one another, and it was only the saving grace of not having to meet Alastor's eyes that allowed him to respond with, “Charlie should be checked on.”

“Your Maj - “

“I don't care if I’m overbearing,” Lucifer snapped. He tossed onto his side again, his back to the great wall of pillows, and he barely avoided clawing the sheets to shreds as he kneaded them in his nerves. “Or that I'm stepping over the line. I want to see her, and contract or not, I will twist your neck if you try and stop me - “

“Did someone say that to you?”

Lucifer's mouth shut with a dumbfounded clack. He stared off the side of the bed and straight at the grandfather clock that stood near the corner of the room, where it ticked quietly with each swing of its pendulum.

“What?” Lucifer whispered.

“Did someone say those things about you?” Alastor repeated.

His voice was quiet and there was no indication that he moved from his spot on the bed, but Lucifer felt his presence more than ever.

He sounded weird, contemplative, and so gentle that Lucifer couldn't stand it.

Of course someone had said those things to him. They were true, after all. Lucifer knew how anxious he could get, and how his worries tended to make the worst out of things. He never said he liked that part of himself, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.

“No,” Lucifer lied.

Silence.

And then: “If you want to see her, then we shall see her.”

Alastor spoke rather plainly. There was no contempt in his words, and there was a small shift on the mattress that told Lucifer he was moving, but before he could demand what the Hell the sinner was up to, a tiny mirror appeared in front of him.

Lucifer blinked and reached out to grasp the handheld mirror on instinct. It was a small, little thing, and magic swirled on the surface of the glass, sweeping away his reflection and instead showing an image of Charlie.

She was in her crib, her swaddle still good and snug around her, and her nose twitched ever so slightly while she slept.

She was fine.

She was totally fine.

Lucifer swallowed, gripped the handle of the mirror a little too tightly, and he knew his voice was vibrating with his anxiety as he said, “what if she has an allergy attack in the middle of the night?”

“Then I will summon the best doctor to take care of her.”

“What if she goes hungry and she starves?”

“She will cry before she does that, and I will fetch her a bottle.”

“What if she has to have her diaper changed but then she gets a rash?”

“I will use the highest quality powder to ensure that doesn't happen.”

Lucifer was speechless.

All his thoughts, all his needless worries, were being addressed so simply by Alastor that he didn't know how to respond. The sinner made it seem so easy, like there actually was a solution to each problem, and like said problems weren't entirely impossible.

Lilith had often spent the first half of her pregnancy ignoring Lucifer when he got like this. Uptight, controlling, too much like Adam, she used to say.

He suspected she never really knew how cutting those last words really were, but he also knew that she'd been right. He always did this, always let his anxiety spiral out of control and cause him to act like an overbearing mother hen, but it was the first time someone simply explained away his nonsensical questions rather than dismiss them all together.

A lump grew in Lucifer's throat, and he traced Charlie's face on the glass with a finger, trying to memorize every detail of her perfect little head.

“Can you still not sleep, my liege?”

“That's easier said than done,” Lucifer muttered, still half entranced by the magic mirror. “I haven't…”

He paused.

He didn't know what he was about to say here, but he suddenly felt like he was on a tightrope, precariously tilting this way and that as he struggled to both hold back his words and also blurt out his innermost feelings.

“Just been a while since I used a bed,” he finally said, his voice a little gruff.

“I see.”

“I can hear you judging me.”

Alastor laughed, but it wasn’t actually amused, simply dry and quiet in the otherwise still, dark room, and he said, “I am in no position to judge you. I also have not used a bed in a long time.”

“No?” Lucifer said, staring up at the ceiling.

It dawned on him that Alastor had to be looking up at the very same ceiling, and maybe even the same spot of dust that had stuck itself right in the dead center.

“No,” Alastor said.

Lucifer turned to his side once more, curling into a ball and his back towards the pillows. He didn't want to say anything else; he feared if he did, he would talk about how he hated using a bed, not only because of how he hadn't been in one since Lilith left, but the bigger reason being he was cold.

Imagine such a thing; him, in the center of Hell itself, cold.

But it was true.

He had never not shared a bed with someone ever since his Fall, and had spent thousands of nights with Lilith by his side, her hands and feet tangled with his as they slumbered on.

He tightened his fingers into fists, trying to dispel the chill that nipped into his skin, but to no avail.

He was alone.

He closed his eyes, held the mirror with Charlie close to his chest, and allowed himself to ease into sleep.

He woke up just in time to realize that the piercing sound he had thought was a banshee was, in fact, his currently wailing daughter.

Lucifer tumbled off the bed with a grunt, falling onto the floor in a tangled mess of limbs and blankets, and he struggled with the sheets in some poor attempt to stand up when half his brain was still asleep, only to stop when a single finger touched the middle of his forehead in admonishment.

“She simply needed a bottle,” Alastor said, looking rather amused as he gestured down to his arms.

In them was a ravenously suckling Charlie, who grasped a bottle of milk with both her hands and eagerly kicked her little feet whenever Alastor adjusted his hold on her so the nipple tilted down more into her mouth as needed.

“You fed her?” Lucifer said dumbly. “You already - ?”

“Of course I have,” Alastor said, like there was nothing else to say but confirm. “That is what I'm here for.”

“Right,” Lucifer said faintly. “I…”

“Being on the floor is undignified for someone of your station.”

He held out a hand. He wore gloves, Lucifer realized, and he scoffed a little as he glanced up into Alastor’s expectant eyes.

What kind of weirdo wore gloves even when going to bed?

But then again, Lucifer himself had failed to change into any comfortable clothes after the both of them spent a good fifteen minutes arguing on how to split the bed so it wasn't uncomfortable, and he sighed before he raised his own wrist and allowed his fingers to tangle with Alastor's.

He was pulled up rather quickly, the sinner looking like it was no big deal having to haul the King of Hell onto his feet while also holding the Princess, and Lucifer looked down at their hands as he pondered on Alastor's touch.

He was warm. Even through his silk gloves, he was warm, and Lucifer belatedly wondered if perhaps it was obvious how cold he was when he shivered a little and squeezed Alastor's palm just on instinct.

“Perhaps a shower would do you well, Your Majesty.”

“Huh? What?” Lucifer said blankly, looking up in time to see Alastor give him a small, almost sarcastic smile that tinged at the corners with genuine amusement.

“I doubt that you'll find yourself inclined to sleep again,” Alastor said, sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner. He began to rock back and forth, occasionally tickling Charlie's toes while she suckled. “You don't need to force yourself to if you cannot stop yourself from watching over her.”

“Oh,” Lucifer said. He stumbled over and sighed as he slumped onto the arm of the chair, his upper body relying on the back to keep upright.

Alastor only fumbled a little at the sudden change of his center of gravity, but he adjusted well, keeping the chair still as Lucifer slowly melted more into a half-sitting position right next to him.

After a few seconds, he began to rock again, and it took a few seconds before Lucifer realized that when he strained his ears, he could hear the faint notes of a music box somewhere in the background.

“You're good with her,” Lucifer said quietly as they both looked down at the baby.

She seemed content as she licked the last few drops of milk away from the plastic nipple, and the only sign that she had been crying was the slight redness at the corners of her big eyes.

“Preparation is everything,” Alastor said cheerfully, his voice also quiet as he shifted her so her face was on his shoulder. He began to burp her, his pats gentle and in beat with his soft rocking. “I have read many books in order to fulfill this role.”

“That's not what I meant, nerd.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. He reached over and brushed some of Charlie's fair hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear as she looked at him sleepily. “You're good with her. No amount of parenting books can give you an edge like that. I should know.”

His voice was bitter on his last few words, which he regretted instantly when Charlie began to whimper and squirm a little.

Alastor shushed her and patted her back a little more, which succeeded in getting her to settle again, and when he spoke, the music box notes were slightly louder.

“The Princess is a baby, Your Majesty,” Alastor said, a smile still on his face as he rubbed her gently. “She will copy anything and everything you do. So when your grief and your anger takes a hold of you, she can't help but feel the same.”

Lucifer felt rather stunned as he looked down into Alastor's red eyes. For once, it felt like the sinner wasn't mocking him. There was a line between them, one that wasn't made of chains or servitude, but understanding.

Alastor understood him, and Lucifer took in a sharp inhale as he dragged a hand down his face and said, “I should have known that you figured it out by now.”

“All the portraits you have of Her Majesty are covered with blankets,” Alastor said, his finger tapping Charlie's nose and calming her down when she started to lift her head in question. “And I have not smelled her presence within the castle. At least not anything recent.”

Lucifer's hands squeezed together so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

It made his heart feel like it was twisting in on itself to hear that some part of Lilith still remained within their home. He had tried to get rid of it all, had locked their room away forever and covered up any portrait of her he could see, but to think that her scent of all things remained was…

God.

She smelled wonderful. Like the roses she loved to grow and the faint scent of his own apple cologne that stuck to her skin because of how much time they spent together.

He had always told her how much he loved her smell, but now, the thought of the scent of roses clinging to the corners of his home made him slightly sick.

He hadn't realized that in his despair, he was slowly slumping down more and more, until the very tip of his nose touched the edge of one of Alastor's large ears.

It twitched a little against his face, but otherwise the appendage stood still, and he marveled at how soft the fur felt against his skin.

He inhaled slightly, and the scent of lilies floated around him.

He almost laughed. To think that a sinner would wear such a gentle scent was too good to say out loud, but he far preferred this over the suffocating smell of roses, and he said, very quietly into the ear, “you smell like lilies. Did you know that?”

Alastor was very still in the chair, abnormally so. He was like a statue, the only part of him moving being the slow pats on Charlie's back as she let out a tiny burp, but even those came to a stop as he glanced up out of the corner of his eye and made contact with Lucifer's gaze.

“And you smell of apple blooms,” Alastor said.

His eyes darted away and he patted Charlie's back again, who was now sleeping fast and hard on his shoulder and also drooling all over his shirt.

Oh, Lucifer thought. He was uncomfortable.

Lucifer had never felt so awkward in his life.

He excelled at making people uncomfortable, but that was usually on purpose, just to fuck with them and remind them of who he really was.

To do it without meaning to was a little…

He hopped off the chair so quickly that it almost smacked back into the wall from the sudden movement, and Alastor’s ears flipped back in a show of shock as he steadied Charlie with his hand and also looked at Lucifer in bewilderment.

“I'm going to go shower,” Lucifer announced.

He spun around on his heel and stomped out of the room, Alastor's gaze piercing the back of his neck as he went.

Dammit.

He didn't return to bed that night. The thought of climbing under the same covers as Alastor again after practically whispering little nothings into his ear was enough to make Lucifer's skin crawl, so instead he spent an inordinate amount of time sitting in the tub and blowing despondent bubbles.

It was a little uncomfortable. The water never seemed to get warm enough despite him refilling the tub every fifteen minutes, and even the half bottle of bubble bath he dumped into it didn't help.

He watched as a rubber duck floated past his head, its path only slightly perturbed when he blew more bubbles underwater.

His lower half of his face remained beneath the surface even when he pouted, and he sighed and closed his eyes as he started to sink into the water, his eyes only half open as he felt his hair becoming wet at the nape and eventually the top.

He floated within the water, his body still cold despite it being near boiling temperatures, and he watched as strands of hair drifted around him while he curled into a ball and wept.

The tears mixed with the water so it was totally fine. It wasn't like he was actually crying that way, and he rubbed at his eyes as he let himself drift even further down the tub, expanding it as he went so it wasn't so shallow.

It felt a little like flying, honestly. Being like this, he meant. His hair floating around him, his body untouched by anything, and he wondered when was the last time he touched the skies.

At least a millennia.

He allowed his wings to burst out of his back with a flurry of bubbles. His feathers, still dry even with the heavy weight of water on them, wrapped around him protectively as he wept golden tears and tried to warm himself up even a little.

Time passed, and he didn't know how long.

He drifted, lost and alone, wondering when he would be able to reach the surface again, only to startle when there was a loud noise and then a shadow looming over him.

His wings pulled back from his face, his eyes wide and his mouth open in stunned amazement, as he watched a gloveless hand burst past the surface of the water that seemed so far above him.

Following that was an arm, then a shoulder, and he watched, a little breathless, as Alastor's red eyes locked with Lucifer's while his lips, for once not smiling, cried out in a panic.

“Your Majesty!” Alastor shouted again, his voice only slightly muffled underwater.

“Alastor,” Lucifer said faintly.

Alastor reached down, his other hand breaching past the surface, and Lucifer almost gasped when both of them wrapped around his wrist as well as his waist.

With a single tug, they were both exploding out of the water, and Lucifer coughed as he gulped in the air, the sudden change in environment causing his magic to kick in and expel any water that had built up slowly in his lungs.

He blinked through his wet hair and the droplets that ran into his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at the tub.

It was a normal tub again, no longer a trench of water, and he only had a moment to ask himself if he had really allowed his magic to get so out of hand before something gripped his arms tightly and he was forced to face Alastor's enraged snarl.

“Is Falling not enough for you?” Alastor hissed, his pupils practically slits from how angry he was as he shook Lucifer back and forth minutely. “You of all people should know that something like that is an egregious sin!”

“Uh,” Lucifer said smartly, his wings slumped on the ground behind him as he struggled to understand what was going on. He glanced down, felt the back of his neck go hot, and he grimaced as he said, “I’m naked.”

Alastor also glanced down, blanked at the sight of his dick, and then sighed loudly as he let go of Lucifer abruptly and whirled around. He snapped his fingers and various towels appeared by the king's side, and they all began to attack him.

“Hey!” Lucifer squawked, trying to fight off a particularly aggressive towel as it began to ruffle through his hair and dry off the strands. “What the - OY - “

He sputtered when another wiped rather roughly at his face, and his voice was muffled as two more started to rub at his legs. “What's the meaning of this, Alastor!”

“Whatever do you mean, sire?”

“Ugh!” Lucifer growled when a towel tried to wipe his ass. He glared at it and set it on fire with just his eyes alone. He whirled around to demand answers from the sinner, and he probably would have looked more intimidating if it wasn’t for his nudity. “What in Father’s name is wrong with you!”

Alastor growled, his ears pinned flat to his head. Funnily enough, he still refused to turn around, and his voice was abnormally full of more static than usual as he snapped, “put on your clothes.”

Lucifer stared at the back of his head in disbelief. “What? Seriously? I'll have you know that the body is nothing to be ashamed of! What do you think everyone wore when clothes weren't a thing yet? Huh? Don't be a prude - “

“Lucifer.”

He paused.

That was the first time Alastor had ever said his name, he realized, and even more than that, he was pleading. Begging, almost, and it was so unexpecting to hear such a tone from a demon like Alastor, who Lucifer had gathered by that point was a very proud individual.

Lucifer frowned, clicked his tongue, and blew his hair out of his eyes. With the motion, his magic swirled to life and the towels disappeared, leaving him in a haphazard outfit that he remembered was the last few clothes he had that didn’t need to be washed.

Alastor turned around, and his face was… well. He was certainly smiling, but it was strained and wobbling at the corners. Even more strangely, his cheeks were deep in color on his already dark skin, and he said, “much better.”

“What in Father's good name are you doing to command such things from me?” Lucifer hissed, pissed off as he poked a finger into Alastor's chest, even angrier because he wasn’t eye level with the asshole.

“It was necessary,” Alastor scoffed, slapping away Lucifer's hand as he stepped closer. He smelled like lilies and he smelled good, and Lucifer couldn't help but inhale as the demon reached out and began to straighten the collar of his shirt. “And, my liege, it is warranted to ask what you were doing.”

“What?” Lucifer tched, struggling within Alastor's grip.

“You were drowning.”

Lucifer almost laughed, suddenly filled with amusement at such a thought, only for his guffaw to die in his throat when he saw Alastor's pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

Wait a minute.

Was he serious?

“I wasn't drowning,” Lucifer sputtered.

Alastor growled and almost choked him while tying his duck-patterned tie, and Lucifer slapped at his wrists, which did absolutely nothing to make him let go.

“I wasn't!” Lucifer cried out.

“Your magic was swelling to the point I could feel it even halfway across your palace,” Alastor said lowly. His eyes gleamed bright red in the dim light of the bathroom and he was - oh!

Oh, Lucifer thought.

“You're upset,” Lucifer said slowly.

Alastor didn't respond. His fingers were nimble and precise as he looped the tie properly and knotted it directly against Lucifer's throat.

“Alastor,” Lucifer said, and his hand grabbed the sinner's wrist, not tightly but not loosely, either.

When Alastor looked up from the tie, Lucifer smiled at him in exasperation, and he didn't know whether to laugh right into the demon's face or pull his cheeks for being so naive.

“When the world was created, Raphael and Gabriel took to the lands and shaped them with their hands by turning air into clay and clay into mountains,” Lucifer said, slowly lowering Alastor's hand from his collar.

“But the oceans were created by me.” He lifted his fingers and blew a soft breath across his palm. A single star appeared and floated on top of his skin, and he looked at it fondly. “I crushed the stars and grinded them finely into silver water. The seas are my domain, Alastor.”

He tightened his hand into a fist and concentrated. After a moment, he opened it again, and a small, silvery ball of seawater pooled in his palm.

He looked up at Alastor and beamed, laughing as he raised a hand and whacked the demon good-naturedly on the arm. “Ah, you youngsters! You don't know your history at all, do you? Not many things can kill an archangel! Certainly not a little water.”

“Be that as it may,” Alastor huffed, straightening his back and clearing his throat. Hah, Lucifer wanted to laugh. He’s embarrassed. “It is time for you to end your… oceanic adventure.”

“And why is that, dog?” Lucifer grinned, turning to the mirror and humming as he ran a hand through his hair and almost snorted at how frizzy it was. Stupid towels.

“You have a visitor,” Alastor said, clicking his tongue as he summoned a brush and began to run the bristles through Lucifer's hair, ignoring his complaints about being treated like a child. “And Her Highness is currently wreaking havoc in the dining room in the meantime, so I suggest you hurry.”

“Right, sure,” Lucifer said, staying still as he let Alastor try to scalp him. If it meant seeing Charlie as soon as possible, then he would endure anything. “Who's visiting me, exactly?”

“I'm not sure,” Alastor said vaguely. He took a pair of scissors and started trimming the longer hairs at the back of Lucifer's neck. “But I believe he called himself a Goetia.”

Lucifer choked.

“WHAT?”

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