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serasfanfiction · 2 days

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CW: Blood. Less a content warning and more a note: Lucifer is one very depressed cookie and it shows.

oOo

Lucifer closed the portal behind them after making certain Alastor was clear. It had been a bit melodramatic, leaving by portal, he knew. He simply couldn't imagine attempting to leave any other way and risk screwing up the impression he'd just made.

He could be serious. He could do the whole scary bit. He just didn't like to do it for long.

He released Alastor's hand, tucking both his demons and angelic features alike away until he was his normal, unassuming self. Away from the studio and everyone's prying eyes, with the broadcast finally done and over, he felt like he could relax and breathe again.

Speaking of the redhead, Lucifer figured there was some unfinished business to take care of between them. Not to mention, he really did want to check in with him after that little power stunt. He was just thinking of doing so, when he felt a presence at his back.

Reflexes already on high alert from the stress of the studio, Lucifer spun around. He had enough time to recognize a red and white pinstriped coat, before he was being crowded backwards, red tipped claws going for his throat. It was only because he registered it was only Alastor-

('Only Alastor,' a slightly hysterical part of his brain jitters. When did he become so used to Alastor at his back that he stopped seeing as a threat?)

-that he didn't protest beyond an annoyed and startled, "Alastor, what are you doing??"

Alastor didn't answer, intent on his task, which seemed to be ridding his king of his bowtie. He snarled as the back of the Lucifer's knees hit the bed, sending him careening backwards. The redhead followed him down, hands abandoning their task to catch himself before he landed on top of the blonde.

For a moment, they froze, both panting. Lucifer stared up at Alastor from where he lay on his back, legs dangling over the side of the bed. Alastor stared down at him, black drool dripping down his chin, that quick witted mind near lost to his bloodlust.

Lucifer swallowed, the gulp loud in the silence of the room. Red, glowing eyes followed the movement, teeth elongating ever so slightly. His form had grown as his antlers extended as his Wendigo side threatened to take full control.

"Alastor, come back." Lucifer didn't dare move, not wanting to set him off. "You'll have your feast, but you need to come back first."

Alastor's responding growl was more canine than his form should allow. His claws dug into the bedsheets, the poor silk shredding under their sharp tips. Lucifer watched as he fought a battle with his hunger. The glow dimmed and brightened as his human mind struggled for control.

Lucifer could see the moment the balance tipped. Form mostly returned to normal, Alastor lowered himself until he could bury his face in the fallen angel's hair. "Transform." His voice sounded like he'd swallowed gravel, filter struggling to interpret the sound.

Slowly, Lucifer raised a hand, not touching, but held out in the universal sign for 'stop.' "Wait."

Alastor didn't take the response well. Sharp fangs grazed Lucifer's chin as the Radio Demon hissed, "You can't deny me."

Actually, Lucifer could. He still had quite a bit of his 12 hours left. He could leave right then and there and there was little Alastor could do to stop him. Perhaps he should have left right then, but there was no telling if delaying would allow the radio host time to calm down or if he'd lose more control as his hunger rose up again to swallow him.

"I'm not trying to." Unable to tell if the redhead could even see it from where he'd buried his face in the blonde's neck, Lucifer pointed up towards the head of the bed. "I just thought it would be more comfortable if I was propped up and you didn't have your face buried in the sheets."

Alastor's ears flattened. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. At least he seemed more stable now that he was convinced he wasn't being denied his feast.

With aching slowness, inch by inch, Alastor pulled away. When Lucifer could see his face again, only the charming facade of the Hazbin Hotel's hotelier peered back at him. Lucifer hadn't realized how tense he himself was until he was met with the familiar sight. He still hesitated to move, unsure of sinner's control.

Seeing his hesitation, Alastor's smiled down at him with that lazy grin of his. "Ah, that must have been unsightly. Please, let's relocate ourselves. It's always better to dine in comfort."

Lucifer's eye twitched. 'Dine in comfort.' One of them would be dinning in comfort, he supposed.

Lucifer slithered out from beneath the cage of Alastor's limbs. Usually, when someone joined him in his bed, he might have made a show of crossing it. Sometimes, it was a tease meant to excite. Sometimes, it was just being silly or just having fun. This was hardly the first time someone who wasn't a lover had joined him. Lilith had been his only sexual partner, his temptation of Eve aside, but he had shared a bed with friends and family throughout his life. Angels, fallen or not, were social creatures. It hadn't been uncommon for Lucifer and his brothers and sisters to indulge in cuddle fests that resulted in a giggling pile of limbs and wings. After their fall, Lucifer and some of the other deadly sins had retained some degree of need for physical contact, although they all had wildly different ways of meeting that need.

Since there was no one interested in any sort of play here, Lucifer merely scooted back towards the pillows, Alastor following his progress with a hunter's keen eye. He couldn't decide how he felt about the fact that the first person to join in his bed post divorcing his one and only marital partner was someone like the Radio Demon. This would even be the first time the blonde had invited a sinner into his bed. He nearly laughed at himself that, of course, it would be under the circumstance that said sinner was only here to feast upon his blood. He stopped when his back hit a pillow, already reaching to finish divesting himself of his bow tie. It had survived the redhead's attempt to rip it apart by virtue of being something Lucifer's magic had created. It went over the side of the bed with careless abandon, his vest following shortly after.

As he reached his shirt, he found himself pausing several buttons down. He had already bared all to this sinner once before. His pride certainly didn't leave him with anything to worry about - he knew how attractive he was. For some reason, though, the mere thought of getting any more undressed than an unbuttoned top was suddenly too much. Perhaps it was because of the encounter with Valentino, the sinner's slimy touch still burned into his skin. Perhaps it was because of how overwhelming everyone's attention at the studio had been. Whatever it was, he was hit with a feeling of being too overexposed to bare all, even if it was only from the waist up.

Alastor's eyebrow rose when he failed to remove his shirt, opting to only leave it unbuttoned. Lucifer was willing to deal with cleaning up the inevitable mess that was to come, as long as he could retain some of his modesty. The redhead was immediately distracted by the appearance of those blonde ears that heralded the beginning of Lucifer's transformation. An equally blonde, fluffy tail was hidden behind him, wedged under the bottom of the pillow behind him. Lucifer was likely going to have to rescue it shortly, but for the moment, he let it be.

He pulled the collar of his shirt until it fell off his shoulder. His throat bared and his grin sly, he croaked a finger in a 'come hither.' "Come and take your reward, sinner."

The size of the bed and his position near the center of the headboard forced Alastor to come to him on hands and knees. Despite this, there was no worship in his gaze nor a subservient bone in this sinner's body. Alastor approached him with the grace of a dancer tempered with the deadly intent of a predator. As he drew near, the blond spread his legs, inviting the redhead closer. Unlike the last time they were both in this bed in a similar position, Alastor showed none of that disgust, although he did stop to situate himself so that there was no physical contact anywhere below the waist.

Reserves about contact below the waist did not seem to apply to above it. The instant he was near enough to do so, Alastor's nose was back in his hair, expertly avoiding his antlers. Lucifer could change his shape to match any of Earth's creatures, both real and imaginary, but the change was only cosmetic. He took on none of their behaviors. Was influenced by none of their instincts. How messy it must be to have such foreign habits thrust upon someone.

Lucifer was so distracted by his contemplation of the inner workings of this sinner he'd found himself so entangled with, he'd stopped paying attention to to what the redhead was actually doing. This was his only explanation for why he was so caught off guard when something sharp pressed against his throat, demanding in its threat, but not so much so it broke the surface of his skin.

Something that wasn't Alastor's teeth, as evidenced by the sinner pulling back and the sensation remaining.

The gleam in Alastor's eyes, pupils aglow made him more wary than any potential threat of the weapon. He glanced down, the hilt of the blade - a dagger - just visible from that angle. His eyes darkened as he recognized it.

It was that angelic steel blade the wolf demon had attacked him with. The same one he'd utterly forgotten right up until just then.

Clearly someone had found it and squirreled it away for potential future use. Had he already been planning some use for it, even as they negotiated their first contract? Lucifer glared up at Alastor, finding the sinner's face completely shrouded in darkness, save the glow of his red eyes and his yellow teeth, bared in a riotous grin.

It was utterly unhinged.

Someone else's memory rose up, super imposing itself over reality. For a moment, it wasn't Alastor, the Radio Demon leaning over him. Instead, a man in his thirties, brunette and dark skinned, crouched over him, smile stretched as wide as humanly possible across his face, brown eyes illuminated with the reflection of a street lamp.

It had been the last sight many of Alastor's victims had seen before he silenced them forever.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, the image dissipating like the morning fog. He raised the hand not holding a dagger to his king's throat up to cup Lucifer's cheek. His thumb pressed down into the fragile skin under the blonde's eye, rubbing across the length of it, as his expression smoothed into that fond one he'd taken to wearing most of the last hour or two.

Lucifer wondered if Alastor was aware that he had Seen him - the same way he'd Seen the wolf who'd attacked the hotel, had Seen Valentino. Had Seen him; knew all of his victim's names and their last moments. Knew of the crooked moral code Alastor had lived by, one that might have been seen as righteous, had the man not enjoyed the kill a little too much.

Perhaps that fondness was because the Devil himself had gazed upon this sinner and all of his sins and had still chosen to lay down and bare his neck to him like a sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.

Alastor shifted his leg to better brace himself. He studied the position of the dagger with the critical eye of a seasoned killer. The dagger rose up, first a centimeter, then another half centimeter. He held it in place, satisfied with its position and leaving no question in how this was going to go. There was nothing particularly kind in his face as he crooned sweetly, "I wouldn't recommend moving now, sire." He tightened his grip on the side of Lucifer's head. "I'd hate to cause unintentional damage."

And with that, Alastor slit Lucifer's throat.

The resulting wound was a testament to the Radio Demon's skill, practiced in life and honed in death. It was as damaging as it needed to be: deep enough to slice right through the carotid artery, causing hot, golden blood to spill forth in a rush. Alastor darted forward, latching his mouth over the open wound and sucked.

It hurt. Lucifer hadn't thought the dagger would hurt worse than when Alastor had used his teeth, but it did. Intellectually, he appreciated the cut would last longer with the dagger than with Alastor's teeth. Intellectually be damned, though, because physically it burned like the dickens with every pull at the wound.

Alastor hadn't restricted his ability to fight back. On reflex, he darted a hand up, going for those sensitive ears. Alastor, feeling the muscle move beneath his mouth, dropped the dagger in favor of catching his wrist effortlessly. He slammed it down against the sheets, leaning his weight on it to pin it down.

He wasn't fast enough to capture Lucifer's other wrist, the fallen angel having gone lower to reach for the sinner's ribs. Lucifer's claws sharpened, sharper blades than even angel steel, cutting through cloth and flesh as easy as a hot knife through butter. He only stopped when the skin between two of his fingers hit bone. Immediately, the wet feeling of blood began to seep into the fabric and then onto his hand.

The redhead showed his displeasure by digging his teeth into the flesh around the cut, spilling even more blood in the process.

Lucifer writhed, unable to escape as long as Alastor continued to swallow down his blood. He hissed, managing to growl out, "Alastor, that... hurts."

Static screeched through the air. Alastor didn't remove his teeth, but he didn't drive them in deeper. Uncaring that he was causing more damage, he reached down and around, before yanking the blonde's claws from his side. Lucifer felt, more than saw, the blood spill from the wound and hitting his side, where the fluids immediately began to soak into both his shirt and the sheets, adding to the mess they were making of each other and his bed.

Lucifer panted, casting around for something to distract himself from the pain in his neck and the disturbing sound of Alastor gulping down his blood, abnormally loud in the otherwise silence of the room. There was little to focus on, save the feel of the silk sheets, his painfully trapped tail, and the feel of blood (his own and Alastor's) in varying stages of cooling and coagulation in the sheets around him.

The steady feel of dripping against his side managed to penetrate the haze of pain. He couldn't see it properly, but judging from the growing blood stain on his shirt, he concluded he'd done some damage himself. He had half a mind to leave it, a warning not to use the dagger in the future. His blood was more than adequate to heal the damage in no time.

Healing a wound required a great deal of concentration and he latched onto the thought as a welcome distraction. Told himself that was the only reason he was doing it. It certainly wasn't an apology, as he was of the opinion that Alastor had more than deserved it. Tearing his gaze away from the ears he wanted nothing more than to dig his claws into, his twisted his wrist in an attempt to free it. When Alastor refused him his freedom, Lucifer warned, "Let go." A little gentler, he assured, "I'm not going to hurt you again."

More static spilled out of the redhead. Lucifer thought he'd have to go back on his word and potentially hurt him to free himself, had half a mind to just let the stubborn asshole suffer, but eventually Alastor relinquished his hold. He full-bodied flinched as Lucifer pressed his hand over the wound, his growl a warning.

Lucifer ignored it, closing his eyes to focus on the damaged cells. He'd nicked the lowest two bones of Alastor's rib cage when he'd driven his claws in, but hadn't chipped them. He decided to focus on them last, instead coaxing the copious amounts of spilled blood lingering around the wound to coagulate and help seal up any severed blood vessels and torn flesh. Next, he began the process of speeding up the formation of collagen and fresh tissue until the wound looked like it was several weeks old, rather than a few minutes. Repair of the bone came next, smoothing away any marks he'd left behind until all signs of the wound were gone.

In response, Alastor withdrew his teeth, allowing the skin to finally begin to heal itself. Lucifer doubted he'd receive an apology any more than he felt like giving one himself.

As a last touch, Lucifer wiped away the tares to the pin stripped coat under his fingers with a simple swipe of his thumb. Finished with the task, he simply ran his thumb along the material, focusing on the texture. It was good quality, rougher than it was than anything he, himself, owned. If he remembered, he might ask Alastor about his tailor.

The sinner arched his back, leaning away from his hand. A signal he was at his limit on any unwanted physical touch. It was fine, in Lucifer's book, as his arm was beginning to feel heavy.

All of his limbs were beginning to feel heavy. His body sending him their own signal that it was at its own limit.

There was nothing Alastor could do to kill him. This was beyond the sinner's power. He could drain every drop of blood from this corrupt shell, tear it limp from limb, and consume as much flesh as he could stomach. Lucifer would live.

Immortal and durable as this body was, it had its limits. Rare as it was, unfelt in thousands of years, if Lucifer pushed too hard, withstood too much damage, out of self preservation, his body would simply shut down to conserve energy and focus on repairing the damage. It had been quite a while since he had done anything to feel this, but the feeling was still too tied to traumatic memories to ever forget.

He let his head lean back to rest against the headboard. Alastor's frantic feasting had diminished from that of a man starved to one who was savoring every last mouth full of a meal before admitting he was too stuffed to continue. The wound throbbed in time with his slowing heart, but Lucifer was already growing used to it.

Lucifer was unsure if he was going to have the strength to pretend he was unaffected enough to spar with a recovered Radio Demon. He could already feel the urge to give into his body's demands, to fall asleep right there and then and sleep until he was recovered enough to be conscious again. Normally, he wouldn't care about the wolf he had willingly invited into his room and into his bed, he had already proven which of the two of them was more powerful.

But this wouldn't be a normal sleep. Alastor might not have registered as foe anymore, but he was still capable of doing anything. There was no telling where or in what condition Lucifer would wake up in.

A weight dropped down on him, jolting him back into alertness. He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until they snapped open. He came aware to find himself pinned rather effectively to the bed. He turned his head to the side, almost getting a face full of black tipped hair in the process. He blamed his addled brain for how long it took him to realize what had happened. In his defense, it wasn't something he ever thought would happen.

Alastor was laying on top of him. With Lucifer's reclined position and the bend in the sinner's back, he didn't think it was very comfortable.

What?

The redhead quite expertly causing his brain to malfunction tensed. The blond thought it might be because of all the physical contact they were currently sharing. Alastor put that thought on the back burner when he propped himself up, up until they were nearly nose to nose, and gave him a look.

Lucifer blinked up at him, baffled. Alastor was studying him like he was suddenly the most curious creature he had ever encountered and Lucifer had no clue what he'd down to warrant it.

Taking advantage of his lack of energy and utter bafflement, Alastor proceeded to take it upon himself to manhandle the blonde until they were both at a more reclined angle. Seemingly happy with their new position, the sinner resumed his previous spot.

Right on top of Lucifer.

Lucifer wanted to protest, a little voice in his mind quite vocal over the sinner's audacity. Protesting would have required he muster up enough energy to try and make sense of how the hell they had somehow gone from Alastor not wanting to touch him to... well. This.

Whatever this was.

He blinked at the ceiling, something he had done numerous times since moving in. It held no more answers to his questions than it ever did. Dredging up enough magic from the bottom of the wellspring that was the source of his power, he cleaned up the blood. Butterfly stitches, covered by a bandage appeared around his neck. By the time it needed to be changed it, he wouldn't need it anymore.

Pressed up against him chest to sternum, Lucifer couldn't help but notice that Alastor was all long limbs and lithe muscle. The sinner's weight was usually negligible, the fallen angel more than capable of tossing him around. Now, it felt like it could actually hold him here in this place that should be safe (but wasn't). The heat of his body seeped into Lucifer's where they were pressed together, coaxing his muscles to give up the last of their tension.

It eased something in his core, a longing for physical contact with another person he'd desperately wished for since Lilith last shared their bed. It was… almost nice. Almost nice enough he could forget all of the steps that had lead them to this moment.

Alastor's breathing had deepened. He wasn't asleep, but he seemed close. Perhaps expending as much energy as he had, like working a new muscle for the first time, followed by a hearty meal was threatening to send the redhead into his own coma.

It didn't explain what was going on here.

"What are you doing?"

The end of the question was muffled by the hand Alastor had placed over Lucifer's mouth. Lucifer didn't have the energy to glare at it.

"Sleep, sire." Alastor's voice had deepened, his filter all but gone. His hand fell away to lay beside the blonde's cheek on the pillow. He turned his head to bury his nose in Lucifer's hair. "Everything else can wait until later."

Lucifer still didn't know if this place was any safer now than it had been at the start of his worries, but he found that he was willing to find out. Closing his eyes, he let slumber take him.

The pinging of his phone roused him. Lucifer shifted, the sluggishness of his limbs coming from a deep slumber rather than an intrinsic need to recover. He was warm, warmer than he had been when he'd fallen asleep.

He knew even before he opened his eyes that Alastor was gone.

He noted the warmth he'd felt came from having been tucked under the covers. He didn't remember the redhead getting up. Didn't remember being moved and placed under the covers. He almost snorted at the fact that although Alastor had decided to pull the covers over him, he'd tucked him in, clothes and boots and all. He'd know that ceiling anywhere, so he was still in his room. A glance at his clock told him that he had been passed out for six hours.

Not the longest time he'd taken to recover. Not the shortest, but not the longest. He must have been more stressed than he gave himself credit.

He pushed himself up on to his elbows, getting a better look around the room. There was no one else in the room. No sounds came from his personal bathroom, the door open and the light off.

Grief tightened the muscles in his chest, the feeling almost immediately washed away by a tidal wave of self loathing and anger. There had been no reason to believe there would be anyone there when he woke up. He had lost the right to the company of his brothers and sisters when he rebelled against Heaven. Lost his fellow sins when he turned his back on his kingdom and withdrew from everyone except his wife and daughter. Lilith had left decades before she finally walked out the door with Charlie, likely finally reaching her limit with him.

And Alastor? All Alastor wanted from him was access to his blood and some unknown favor at some point in the future. Who know what that guy was thinking, let alone why he had deemed Lucifer a decent pillow to sleep on. For all Lucifer knew, he had imagined the whole thing and had passed out prior to Alastor dropping on him.

He fell back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands. The only person that still wanted anything to do with him for him was Charlie. It sucked, but he had done it to himself. He simply had to live with it.

He let himself wallow in his self pity for several more minutes, before the pinging of his phone told him he really needed to get up and deal with whoever was trying to get his attention. He slide one hand down to touch the side of his neck, the bandage proof that he hadn't imagined the entire afternoon. He let it ground him and remind him of his obligations.

He went first to his bathroom. Turning on the light forced him to reckon with the mess that was his appearance. Yellow strands of hair was all in a wild disarray and the bruising under his eyes more pronounced than usual. Splashing water in his face helped with some of the puffiness, while finger combing his hair brought the mess somewhat under control. He would mostly have to contend with appearing tired, something he thought fair since it was coming up on evening.

He turned his inspection to Alastor's parting gift. Pulling away the bandages, he silently cursed the redhead as he noted it would be too high to hide with his normal attire. His choices were either wear something with a higher neckline or advertise to the entirety of the hotel what he had allowed Alastor to talk him into.

A snap of his fingers conjured a cashmere roll neck in the same shade of pink as his favorite vest. It wasn't his preferred level of dress and he had to placate himself with the reminder that it would only be for a few days. He nodded his head, his reflection mirroring the action back at him. It would have to do.

Lucifer navigated his way back to his bedside dresser, stepping over a few errant ducks that had wandered away from their various piles. His phone had been silent the entire time he was freshening up, which could mean anything. He picked it up, tapping the screen and lighting up the lock screen. Various notifications light up the area below the lock screen clock. Most were spam: a warning about the prediction of acid ran in a few hours or some event Bee was holding that upcoming weekend. He noted the bundle of text messages, one from Charlie at the top of the pile.

He unlocked the phone, pulling up his daughter's text first. The message was a simple request to let her know when he had returned.

He sent her a quick reply, letting her know that he had returned safely, but had accidentally taken a unexpected nap following his return. He didn't have to wait long before she answered back, saying she was glad he was okay. Another message followed, asking if he would be joining them for dinner.

He placed her answer on hold, opting to check on the other messages he had received first. By coincidence, her text message and several from one of his live-servants had arrived, one right after the other, giving the illusion that he was receiving a storm of text messages.

Abiwell was the unlucky imp that had the misfortune of sorting out any correspondence that arrived for the royal family. High was the mountain that was usually for Lilith, everyone wishing for the Queen to grace them with her presence. However, no protocol had been put in place for what to do with her correspondence should she ever leave. So abrupt had been her disappearance, an overwhelmed Lucifer had refused to deal with the issue. With no idea if she would ever return, looking more unlikely the longer she was gone, many of them had simply been placed in her office to wait for her potential return.

Rarely, becoming more so with each passing year, were things that needed Lucifer's attention. Many of his few remaining correspondents had cottoned on that the best way to reach him was via his cellphone. When he'd gone into near total isolation over the last seven years, it had been the only way to reach him. As such, any remaining letters addressed to him had evaporated.

Or so it had seemed.

Innocently sitting in a text, attached as a picture file, was a royal invitation. And not just any invitation, oh no, it was one from one of the ruling families of the Ars Goetia, which meant he really couldn't ignore it. He tapped the image file, enlarging it until he could read the inscription.

His Royal Highness, Stolas, Grand Prince of the Ars Goetia, and Stella, Princess of the Ars Goetia, request the pleasure of the company of Lucifer and Lilith Morningstar at the Coming of Age Ceremony of their daughter Her Royal Highness, Octavia, Heiress of the Ars Goetia on--

Lucifer's first instinct, born of almost a millennium of doing so and not to be undone by a mere seven years, was to forward the message to Lilith. With a sickening lurch, he remembered for what felt like the first time all over again, that that option wasn't an option at all. One, because everything he'd sent her over the last seven years had received a 'message not sent' response and two, because she had left and no one knew where she was. No longer seeing the invitation, Lucifer's grip tightened, the cellphone giving a plasticky sounding creak in protest.

This was one of the ranking members of the royal families of Hell. Hellborn, yes, but still royalty. Each of the Sins, or someone representing them, were expected to show up or it would be viewed as a sever slight. Lilith, his queen and representative, could no longer attend.

Which meant that he would be expected to attend or risk offending one of the higher ranking families of the Ars Goetia.

For one (weak, so very weak) moment, he considered handing the invitation over to Charlie. He was already justifying it to himself - she had to start attending these events some day - before he stopped himself.

No. No, he couldn't send Charlie. The last time he'd (had a bad day) sent Charlie in his place, Heaven had decided to throw a temper tantrum over the fact that a sinner had discovered one of their dirty little secrets.

The phone slid out of nerveless fingers, the little thump as it hit the bed overshadowed by the larger thump of his knees hitting the floor. He covered his mouth, stifling the bitter, hollow laugh rattling around in his lungs. It had been one thing to show his face to the sinners of Pentagram City. He didn't care about their opinions, not really.

Going in front of his fellow peers, the other Sins, was an entirely different animal. The other Sins, his fallen brothers and sisters, were all that remained of his ties to his Heavenly family. They had teased and supported him when he courted and won Lilith's favor. Stood by him when he'd stirred unrest in Heaven. They were the only ones that hadn't turned their backs on him when he fucked up and released the Root of All Evil, giving her a foot hold in Humanity.

And yet, that was what he had done to them. He'd turned his back on them, on everyone, the deeper he'd fallen into the blackhole that was his depression. How could he face them after leaving all of Hell to rot? For driving Lilith away?

It filtered through his thoughts, the realization that he couldn't breathe. His throat felt too tight as his diaphragm felt like it suddenly didn't remember how to work. Trying to focus on his breathing, trying to manually draw in air, seemed to only be making things worse, the blood rushing in his ears as it became too oxygenated--

"Sire?"

Alastor.

Lucifer froze, heart seizing in his chest.

Alastor's footsteps drew near as he came around the bed, stopping at the end as he spotted him.

Their gazes locked, Lucifer's panic rising with each passing heart beat. If he had been any less panicked, he might have remembered that he could have easily opened a portal and fled to the palace. He could have just as easily opened a portal directly under Alastor's feet, sending the sinner on a one way ticket to the floor below them. He was a creature capable of flight and there was a perfectly functional window just off to his right. If for some reason the window wasn't working, see previous portal making ability.

All rationale had gone up in smoke, however, as the memory of Alastor's (Lilith's) words drove all thoughts from his head.

How pathetic.

He watched as Alastor's shoes (when had he dropped his gaze?) came closer. He couldn't bear to see what expression the sinner had on his face, this human whose opinion he swore he didn't care about but apparently still did. He frowned when Alastor came within arm's reach, and then folded himself gracefully down into a crouch in front of him.

The sinner reached out a hand, getting as far as brushing the skin of his hand before the fallen angel flinched, curling in on himself as if he was the one that abhorred touch.

"Sire?" There was no sound of mocking in that voice. Alastor sounded like he was trying to coax out a wild animal that had taken refuge under his porch and then found itself too terrified to leave.

It only made Lucifer want to draw up his knees and hunch his shoulders in. He couldn't understand why Alastor wasn't making some cutting remark about his lack of control. He certainly hadn't held back before.

Confused and unable to articulate the root of his issue, he went with, "But… you hate people touching you."

Alastor huffed. Lucifer finally mustered the courage to glance at his face. His smile was ever present - the blonde was fairly certain the redhead couldn't not smile - but it was closed and smaller than normal. Alastor had no use for kindness, but he did know how to be gentle when necessary. It was the only word - "gentle" - Lucifer could think to explain the expression on his face in that moment.

"You're quite right, your Majesty. I strongly dislike people touching me," Alastor affirmed. When he reached for Lucifer's hand again, the blonde didn't resist out of confusion. "I do find it somewhat tolerable if that touch is happening under my terms."

Lucifer couldn't draw the air in to ask, what are you doing? The question must have shown on his face anyway.

Alastor drew Lucifer's hand in to rest the latter's palm upon the former's chest. Taking a breathe in, the redhead said, "Breathe with me, sire. Deep breathe in, followed by a slow breathe out." He demonstrated the appropriate breathe in through the nose, followed by a longer breathe out through the mouth. Repeated it until Lucifer started to mimic him.

Lucifer's focus narrowed down until all he could feel was the rise and fall of the chest beneath his palm. Until all he could see was that ever present mask of a smile on Alastor's face, the sinner's own coping mechanism with the world. He forced the relaxation of the muscles in his chest and abdomen, trusting his lungs and diaphragm knew what they were doing, careful not to focus too much on the act of breathing itself. To focus on that would be to start the cycle all over again.

He slumped against the side of the bed, feeling shaky and twitchy. His breathing was back under control, but he felt like one wrong thought might send him back over the edge.

Seeing the crisis was temporarily abated, Alastor coaxed and manhandled him up onto the bed. The offending cellphone, with its oh so innocuous message, was deposited on the bedside table, lest it get lost in the bedsheets. A little more maneuvering around and the sinner had his king bundled up in the comforter, Lucifer's head the only visible thing about him.

Lucifer was too blank to do anything other than stare as Alastor took a seat beside him, pulling him up against the redhead's side. He couldn't feel anything through the comforter (which was perhaps the point), but he could feel the sharp tips of claws running lightly across his skull, could feel the whisper of an exhale as it moved several strands of hair.

This show of comfort felt like a ruse, another part of this game that Alastor was playing with him. He knew what the sinner was doing, could see the jaws of the trap closing in around him. When had the game changed from driving him away to pulling him in? What would Alastor do if Lucifer allowed himself to become ensnared, as Alastor was so unwittingly becoming ensnared himself?

No, he would not let himself fall into that trap, not this day. But he would allow himself to accept this comfort, shallow and full of barbs as it was.

They sat there for some undetermined amount of time, Lucifer content to let the warmth of his cocoon seep into his limbs and ease his shivering. It was inevitable that one of them would break the silence, he was merely surprised the sinner was patient enough he lasted as long as he did.

"Will you tell me what troubles you, your Majesty?"

What didn't trouble him? He eyed the deer demon out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he planned to do with this ammunition, should Lucifer choose to confide in him.

Knowing it was no secret he had avoided any social gathering he could get out of, he offered, "Octavia is coming of age. Stolas and Stella are holding a coming of age ceremony for her."

Alastor fell silent, pondering. For clarification, he asked, "The Ars Goetia?"

The noise Lucifer made was somewhere between a snort and a hum, unsurprised that Alastor was up to date even in this area. "Of course you know who they are."

Alastor pulled away, laughing. "I couldn't very well climb the corporate ladder of Pentagram City if I didn't know all of the players in the game." His nails came perilously close to one of the yellow-white ears Lucifer had yet to send away. "They may not play with sinners, but we do all share real estate."

Sinners and Hellborn sharing space in a single ring was always going to be a powder keg waiting to ignite. Where once upon a time, both parties numbers had been so low it had been easy to avoid each other, now humanity's numbers were booming far faster than Hell's native species could keep up.

Alastor's hand came to rest on Lucifer's shoulder, the weight barely noticeable through the thick comforter. There was a thoughtful look on his face as he mused, "I'm a little surprised they're cooperating enough to hold the ceremony. All the latest gossip says she's trying to kill him." He gave Lucifer an amused smile, the edges tinted with mockery. "Ah, the hilarious things you royals do to keep up appearances."

Lucifer nearly snorted, bitterness lapping at the edges of his numbness like the incoming tide. Power was a game of chess, where all the players made small talk and played nice, while everyone was secretly plotting behind everyone else's backs. When marriage was done for politics and status, not for love, it was bound to cause some tension.

He stared straight ahead, refusing to look at his phone. "The Sins - or a stand in - will be expected to go."

Alastor caught on quick. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde, something malicious just beneath the surface of his smile. "Why not send Charlie, then? Has she not represented you in the past?"

Irritation warred with guilt, almost enough to break free. Lucifer bared his teeth in a half hearted snarl, more for show then actually meaning it. The heat in his voice was just as half hearted as he answered, just as honest, "I'm not going to ask her to fight my battles again."

It was unlikely that anything of the magnitude of Heaven upping the extermination of Hell's population of sinners would happen at a coming of age ceremony, but Charlie had had enough bad luck for one year. Why test it some more?

He let the expression drop, pulling the covers tighter around his shoulders. "Besides, it's just a social gathering," he said, as if it hadn't just triggered the beginnings of a panic attack less than ten minutes prior. "I can do a social gathering."

He didn't know who he was trying to fool with that statement, but it certainly wasn't Alastor, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

Oh, who was he kidding? He so couldn't do a social gathering.

Alastor eyed him, considering. "Would it help if someone went with you?"

Lucifer chewed on the idea. "Who would I even ask?" He hadn't gone to a social gathering by himself in hundreds of years. Usually, either Lilith or Lilith and Charlie had gone with him, whether it was the some milestone for the latest heir or a children's play date. He couldn't ask Lilith to go with him for obvious reasons and asking Charlie would feel too much like he was asking her to act as his crutch, something that wouldn't be fair to her. With them not being an option, that kind of left him empty handed. "Nope, can't think of anyone."

"Didn't I tell you, sire?" Something dark and sweet lurked in Alastor's expression as the dealmaker ran his fingers up Lucifer's neck, settling on cupping his jaw. His head was forced to turn until they face to face, Alastor's smile like honey meant to draw the unsuspecting in. "You still have me."

An echo, a whisper, I'll be with you the whole time.

Lucifer was too stunned to react. Their deal was all but done. Alastor had done his part. The only thing left to do was for the sinner to call in his mysterious favor and it would be done. Why would he sign up for a night of babysitting a twitchy fallen angel? Nervously, he laughed. "Funny, I thought you were serious there for a moment."

Alastor drew closer until their noses almost touched. His brow twitched. "I'm quite serious."

Lucifer leaned back. "I'm not about to make another deal with you." His neck twinged, reminding him of the ones he was already trapped in.

The redhead rolled his eyes as if Lucifer was the one being ridiculous. "And who's asking?" He waved the concern away with his free hand. "The experience alone would be of worth to me."

Lucifer doubted it was that simple. Still, he tried picturing it: this taciturn, egotistical sinner in a room full of beings powerful enough to swat him like a fly the moment he annoyed them. Lucifer's could feel the dubious frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You do realize every single one of the people at this party is going to dislike you, right? Hellborn don't like mingling with sinners."

Alastor looked at him like he wondered who Lucifer thought he was. "This won't be my first party with a pack of wolves."

"You do know you're not invincible, right?" One of these days, Alastor's ego was going to get him killed. To drive this point home, he raised his hand up to the redhead's forehead, made easier by Alastor still being so close, and flicked.

Right where the bullet that had killed him would have exited.

The response was electric.

Alastor's eyes turned red on black, green stitching lighting up his person. His hands, claws razer sharp, caught Lucifer's grip in what would have been a bone crushing grip, had Lucifer been a sinner. "Don't ever do that again." The Radio Demon's smile was long and full of teeth as sharp as his claws. He was fully rejuvenated from his little stunt earlier in the day and he likely could have taken on any of the Overlords in that moment and won.

But as powerful as he was, Lucifer barely felt the grip around his wrist. It would be child's play to break it. Alastor would be nothing more than a fly to even the least powerful member of the Goetia. That was his point.

Lucifer matched his smile with the blankness of apathy. "You wouldn't last the night in the same room with these demons. They'd eat you alive the moment you pissed them off." Would it be worth it to inflict a sinner - this sinner, at that - on the rest of the Goetia just to see how long Alastor could last before someone knocked him down another peg?

Alastor was undeterred by the threat. "Is that a yes?"

This was a bad idea. Lucifer shrugged, feeling a little light headed. "Sure. Just know I'm not bailing you out when you get in over your head."

The redhead released his wrist, finally backing off. His appearance returned to normal, as if he had never lost his temper to begin with. "Perfect. And when is this ceremony?"

Lucifer couldn't believe he was actually doing this. This was such a bad idea. But he was the King of Bad Ideas, was he not? Covering his eyes with a single hand, he groaned.

"It's tomorrow."

tbc

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #hazbin hotel #cw: blood #lucy and al do each other some damage #they're both fine #i had plans for weeks to do a cross over with helluva boss #i just want to play with ozzie and fizz so much #how delightful this is going up the same week we finally got the trailer #also timeline? what timeline?#don't worry about the timeline

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