Despite what humans seemed to think about him, Lucifer wasn't really one to make deals. Oh, there were plenty of stories out there, he knew, ooooh, be careful or the devil will barter with you for your sooooouuul! Yeah, no, the only soul in Lucifer's possession was the one he came into being with and whether it was like a human's he couldn't say, but it was solely (soully?) his.
Humans were wrong about him bartering for souls, for sure, but as it turned out, humans did get things right from time to time. For example, getting drunk? Was reeeeeallly nice.
No, take that back. Being drunk was nice, getting there not so much.
Especially when the journey involved strange bottles of dubious alcohol and wagers.
To be honest, Lucifer was more accustomed to colorful, fruity drinks with umbrellas when he indulged, only recently branching out to apple brandy, so just swallowing Angel's offering of gargling kinks turned out to be a challenge. But it was one that Lucifer stepped up to with gusto, because Alastor was not winning this wager in the first ten seconds of it.
He stared right into Alastor's watchful eyes without blinking, ignoring the bright crimson mirth in his gaze and didn't so much as cough as he took a long swig, swallowing down a mouthful that burned with the chilling fire of Hell finally freezing over. Good god, that was awful, it tasted like the last dying breath of an expired jar of Vicks VapoRub, so it was a good thing no one was drinking it in an attempt to enjoy the flavor.
He was drinking it to win a wager with his…um…with Alastor, thank you, and that was what mattered.
Lucifer handed the bottle to Charlie once he got down his mouthful, smiling encouragingly and hoping she thought the tears in his eyes were from pride. It was the truth soon enough. His little girl stepped up to the challenge and sure, she was…ah...less successful on the whole coughing part of it but she still brought pride to the family name by getting it down. She handed the bottle off to a grim-faced Vaggie, grinning at Lucifer in red-faced triumph, and they both turned to Alastor to show that they were not drunk, thank you very much, not from one teeny swallow of what was possibly a hideous poison and also currently trying to eat through the lining of Lucifer's stomach and—
Uh. Well.
Things got a little blurry after that.
Time didn't seem to follow its normal constraints, had it been minutes? Hours? Don't ask Lucifer, because he did not know, nope, his inner timepiece was whirring past thirteen o'clock and still going. Somewhere in the midst of unknown time was singing, Lucifer did know that much, him alone or with someone else? Undetermined but he remembered the song, 'Sweet Caroline' with an entire chorus of voices coming in on the 'bum bum bum!' portion.
He was pretty sure he remembered kissing and possibly partial nudity, and he was almost positive it wasn't him involved. Almost. Shouting encouragement did not count.
He did have a vague memory of being hungry and chewing his way through the contents of one of the bowls on the snack table, and also part of the bowl. He thought maybe they were chicken wings –he really really hoped they were chicken wings— and the lingering taste of the sauce was still spicy on the back of his tongue, helping to keep the expired Vicks taste at bay. The plastic bowl he'd spat back out, ugh, they needed a better set of dishes.
Those events passed with a distant, ageless quality to them, a watercolor blur across his memory that finally left Lucifer here. On the floor and staring upward, half-convinced if he let go of the carpet he'd go sailing up into the ceiling and that only by using the force of his stare directly at it could he keep down here on the carpet.
There was something hanging from the ceiling fan, moving in a lazy circle and, after a thoughtful moment of study, he decided it was a bra. That went a long way towards proving his theory that he was not involved with the nudity portion of the night; he was positive he hadn't been wearing a bra when he came downstairs. Okay, at least 95% sure.
Nearby, he could hear other people talking and moving around him and dared to flick his eyes in that direction, tightening his grip on the floor in case the whole floating away thing took advantage of his lapse.
Directly next to his head was a wealth of bright red and Lucifer tried to focus, eyes crossing. Alastor, he decided, some part of Alastor was right next to his head. He squinted, concentrating, and it all slowly became clear.
Yeah, okay, Alastor was sitting on the floor next to him, criss-cross-applesauce style and that was his hip Lucifer was lying near. His memory might be on the fractured side, but as he recalled, this was the closest Alastor allowed him to be since after that first drink. Probably a wise choice on his part, not that Lucifer was about to say it out loud and give that bastard any more satisfaction.
Even now as he desperately clung to the surface of the world, Lucifer was thinking of how nice it would be to shove his tongue down Alastor's throat and that was not a thinky-thought he was supposed to be having while they were in the public areas of the hotel.
Then again, today had already been a day filled to the brim with gloriously poor choices and the 'no kissing in public' rule was one he'd already broken before several times with mixed results …
There was a weird sound over Lucifer's head that was somehow familiar, a sort of papery snapping, what was that? Before he could identify it, a familiar radio-bright voice spoke up.
"UNO."
"Fuck, I got nothing." Husk's voice, ripe with frustration.
Angel grumbled with equal annoyance, "Me neither. Can't even change the color."
"Not that it would have mattered much," Alastor said brightly, "as I have a wild card."
Huh, interesting how cards getting tossed to a table sounded a little like a bird taking flight, maybe a canary or some kind of parrot, Lucifer wasn't sure, but it did mix well with the laugh track that was playing. He didn't move, listening in and watching as best he could out of the corner of his eye so he could keep the bulk of the ceiling in his main view.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I quit," Angel said in disgust. "He ain't even cheatin' or if he is, I can't see how."
"I do not cheat," Alastor said primly. "I don't need to cheat. And you can't quit until you pay your debt."
"Yeah, yeah," Angel sighed. "What do I owe you?"
"Hmm, let me see." Alastor leaned over the table, poking carelessly at a collection of items on it. "I have in my possession two tickets to a matinee showing of 'Everyone I Did Last Summer', a pair of fishnet stockings, unused, three pennies, a jolly rancher, I believe apple-flavored, and a coupon for Evil Donuts that expired two years ago, hardly matters, they'll accept it from me. Per the terms of our wager, you still owe me a package of Swedish Fish and a lipstick, shade undetermined. Unless you'd care to keep playing, see if you can win them back?"
Alastor let the last sentence end on a question, dangling tantalizingly and Lucifer had to admit, guy had skills. Even he was tempted to see if he had any expired coupons laying around to toss in.
From the disgruntled sound Angel made, he was running short. "Outta Swedish fish but I think I got some of those circus peanut things."
"I'll accept those as collateral."
Husk was shuffling the cards, not as showy as Alastor but with smooth expertise. "If I'd known you took candy as payment, I would've kept my soul out of the pot."
"Extenuating circumstances, my good man," Alastor said, wagging a finger in his direction. "On occasion the goal is not to gain but to deprive. Besides, neither of you have a soul left to offer."
A low rumbling growl was the only response to that. "Cut the fucking cards."
Something nudged against Lucifer's side, ticklishly, right in the ribs, ouch. He attempted to swat it away and missed, then had to hastily grab the carpet again to keep from falling into the ceiling. "Soooo, what are we doing with mister 'won't get drunk' here? Anyone? Ideas, offers, bids?"
"Not to worry," Alastor said, "I'll take care of him."
A beat of silence, then, "You sure about that, Smiles?"
"Of course." Alastor replied, static bouncing in his voice, ripe with offense, "What, precisely, are you concerned about?"
"…nothin'." The amount of caution in that single word was mercifully large, it was only a shame there wasn't a dash of common sense shaken over it. "You just don't seem the caretaker type is all, y'know?"
"So long as he doesn't vomit on my shoes, I'll manage."
Angel slapped a hand down on the table and three jolly ranchers went flying. "Now, see, that's trouble right there! Can't expect that from him, he's drunk as fuck, it's on you to keep your shoes out of the splash zone."
To give credit where it was due, Alastor was the very pinnacle of patience. "I'll keep it in mind. Issues of my footwear aside, what's the real problem here?"
"It's just," Angel scooped up the cards Husk dealt to him, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he studied his hand,"…you're…you."
Alastor didn't even glance at his own cards, only fanned them out in his hand. "Well observed."
"And you—" Angel gestured at Alastor in his entirety with all his free hands. "You're…y'know."
"What, pray tell, do you think I am going to do to him tonight that we haven't already done?"
Yeah…that was a tone that Lucifer recognized. That bored intonation was a lie, a trick, lulling a person into a false sense of security and once they got in close enough, the trap would snap closed and Alastor would proverbially, —or on occasion literally— eat off their face.
It did not help that Angel never met a survival instinct he couldn't ignore, and he proved it almost immediately.
"You seriously bringing this up?" Angel said gleefully, "You? Oh, man, hang on, I got a list."
Okay, it seemed like an intervention should be in order and whether it was to prevent overshare or murder didn't seem to matter.
"I c'n hear you," Lucifer said loudly. "Let 'im carry me upstairs, he's not gonna eat me or anythin'. Least he hasn't yet."
"On the contrary, just this afternoon—"
"Okay, I'm out," Husk announced, starting to stand.
"Sit your ass down, kitten," Angel pointed sternly back at the floor with both right hands until Husk sullenly sank back down, "this hand ain't over and I got Swedish fish on the line."
That was better, crisis averted and…wait…
"Wait!" Lucifer yelped. He struggled to sit up, but the damn floor kept moving under him. "Charlie!!"
Three pairs of eyes turned to him, each with a separate level of amusement. Husk sucked loudly on his teeth and asked, "That a question or some sort of declaration?"
"Where is she?" Lucifer rolled over, determined to crawl if walking wasn't currently an option, he could hold onto the furniture along the way. "She could be…I gotta find her!"
A firm hand pinned him down again to the treacherous floor. "The only thing you 'gotta' be doing is lying back down." That pinning hand gentled, rubbing a comforting circle between his shoulder blades, ah, that felt nice…no! No, he couldn't allow himself to be distracted!
"But—" Lucifer said, trying not to melt as slim fingers found a tender place to exploit. Going boneless as they gently massaged did not help with his current issue with gravity.
"Charlie is fine," Alastor told him, "and likely won't appreciate a visit at the moment. Your daughter may have inherited half of your genetic material, but she didn't get even a tenth of your constitution. Vaggie already took her upstairs, your shame is safe from her eyes."
Oh, Charlie was safe with Vaggie, thank fuck…wait…
"M'not ashamed of you!" Lucifer said, more than a little offended and loud enough to make himself wince.
The hand on his back paused, fingertips digging in, a brief pinch, then the gentle circles resumed. "I was referring to you being drunk but I do appreciate the reassurance."
" 'm not," Lucifer repeated stubbornly and even louder than before, on the theory that if words didn't work, volume might.
Alastor sighed deeply. "Not drunk? I urge you to rethink that assessment."
Okay, Lucifer couldn't be certain but previous experience told him Alastor was probably being an asshole right now. "I said I'm not 'shamed of you!"
"Ah, that," Alastor said. Like somehow it slipped his mind, yeah, right. "I believe you."
But he didn't, Lucifer could see he didn't. Not that he needed to see, Lucifer could feel it, the salt tang of hurt in the air. Hell, he'd seen as much earlier up in his room when Alastor left him without a kiss. Alastor thought he was ashamed to be with him, and he wasn't, it wasn't about Alastor at all, it wasn't about anyone, or not like that. It was about Charlie and Lilith and every other damn soul in Hell, it was about so many other things, not Alastor.
Although Alastor being Alastor didn't help and fuck, Lucifer was such an asshole and worse, a coward.
Lucifer's eyes burned, tears threatening. If he couldn't think about it hours ago, he sure as fuck couldn't think about it now. All Lucifer knew was Alastor didn't believe him and it hurt. "No, you don't," Lucifer said unhappily.
Alastor, oblivious to the runaway flood running rampant through Lucifer's pickled mind only replied, absently, "Yes, I do."
"Nuh uh."
Alastor finally looked down at him, exasperation bright in his crimson eyes. "I really don't know how to respond to that sort of eloquence. Would you like a written endorsement?"
"Yes." Damn right he would, this was Hell, Lucifer knew the importance of paperwork. He wanted it in triplicate.
A pause, even the low hum of static went briefly silent. "I suppose I walked right into that. Very well."
There was a sound of rummaging as Alastor reached over to one of the side tables, the scratch of a pen, then Alastor stuck a sticky note on Lucifer's forehead. "There. You'll have to wait until morning to have it notarized."
It took two tries for Lucifer to snatch the note off his head. He squinted at it, trying to focus on words written in a lovely scrolling copperplate penmanship declaring that 'I, Alastor, Radio Demon, Esq., do declare to believe Lucifer Morningstar on his lack of shame in perpetuity'.
"Oh…your handwriting is beautiful," Lucifer gushed. He touched the words with a wobbly finger, tracing their loveliness across the paper.
Only to startle when a hand settled on his head, fingertips combing gently through the pale strands of his hair, scratching comfortingly against his scalp for too brief a moment. "Thank you. Now go to sleep."
"Nuh uh." Lucifer rolled onto his back and squirmed up until the top of his head was pressed to Alastor's thigh. The threat of the world shaking him off was starting to lessen and Lucifer wasn't prepared to lose the sensation just yet. "Lemme have another drink."
"No." Yikes, harsh, that word was set in stone, now wasn't it. But Lucifer wasn't deterred, he was ready to scale that mountain if needs be.
"Aw, c'mon." That was not a whine and Lucifer was sticking to that story. "I never been drunk before."
"I said no," Alastor told him sternly, "you're troublesome enough like this, I don't need you verging on unconscious."
Troublesome? Alastor thought he was troublesome? The tears that only threatened earlier abruptly welled and overflowed, running down his cheeks and leaving damp trails behind, much to Alastor's visible dismay. The hand that wasn't currently holding cards fluttered over Lucifer, failing to find a place to settle.
"Why are you doing that?" Alastor said, with warring levels of concern and consternation. "Stop that!" Yes, because in the history of the world, telling someone to stop crying ever worked. Lucifer only looked up at him, sniffling miserably and Alastor turned to Angel and demanded, "Why is he doing that?"
"Hey, don't look at me," Angel said, shrugging, and when Alastor looked back down at Lucifer, he hastily shoved a card from his hand into the middle of the discard pile. "I never guessed he'd be a soppy drunk. Anyway, you're the one who wanted to make a wager."
"Oh, for—come here." Alastor caught hold of him and pulled, defying gravity's betrayal, until Lucifer's head was settled into his lap. It was so unexpected it worked; Lucifer stopped crying in favor of inspecting his new position. Meanwhile, Alastor plucked a handkerchief from the air and wiped a little too roughly at Lucifer's damp cheeks. "Now stop it. Go to sleep, just… have a little nap. I'll take you upstairs after this hand."
Lucifer didn't hear a word after 'come here'.
"Ohh," Lucifer breathed, oh, this was permission, right? This was an offer, it totally was, a radio demon snack on a hot plate, he was now officially allowed to touch, and he was gonna. He slithered in closer, wrapped both arms around Alastor's middle and squeezed.
He did not expect to squash out a sound like a dog chew toy, practically a bleat.
Lucifer looked up at Alastor, who was determinedly not looking back, focusing on his cards as if the fate of Hell itself and every demon within depended on him getting out that skip card. "What was that?"
"Nothing," Alastor coughed. He set a yellow 'draw 2' card on top of the blue one Husk just played and Angel let out a muttered string of curses.
"No, you made a noise," Lucifer accused. "I heard it."
"I really don't know what you mean."
Lucifer scrambled upright, ignoring the way the floor lurched like a ship at sea. "You guys heard it, right?"
Angel held up four hands in surrender. "Pops, do not go dragging us into this, we're only the live studio audience."
Husk only shook his head. "Worth more than my life to side with you."
"My dear, if you wouldn't mind?" From behind him, high and strained. Oh, yeah, somehow he'd managed to crawl right into Alastor's lap and he was sitting maybe a little too firmly on it. He squirmed and cards scattered as Alastor grabbed hold of his hips, stilling him, oooh, this was fun.
But he wasn't forgetting the question at hand, no sir.
"You made a sound." Lucifer gave up on squirming and absolutely did not use his powers to slip free from Alastor's increasingly desperate grip. He turned around to better continue the argument, trying not to let his eyes cross, huh, when did Alastor get so close? Alastor's refusal to look at him only cemented the truth of it.
"Do it again!" Lucifer squeezed him again to no avail. He tried it a few different ways and the best Lucifer managed was a strained wheeze, no adorable little bleating sound. His disappointment all settled into a pout that he shared with Husk, who pointedly ignored him, and Angel, who was watching avidly when not frowning at his cards.
"You're like a child," Alastor told him, lightly. But he wasn't pushing Lucifer away, wasn't shoving him off to the hard floor. In fact, his arms were around Lucifer, ostensibly so he could see his cards, but it was still something like an embrace and that place in Lucifer's chest that went so tight and pained at times in Alastor's presence soared.
"Yeah?" Lucifer shifted, narrowly avoiding kneeing Alastor in the crotch, and managed to straddle his hips, thighs drawn up to press against his ribs. Proud of his accomplishment, he grinned up at Alastor and asked,"You want me to be your baby?"
Alastor closed his eyes briefly, pained, and then switched to look at Husk imploringly.
"Don't even try that, boss," Husk snorted. "This is your fish. You cast the line, you reel it in."
Lucifer didn't pay any attention to that yammering, only gazed yearningly up at Alastor, drinking in the sight of him. So buttoned up and tidy, monocle polished and in place. Hair hanging loose around his face, begging for a hand to slide into it and his lips were thin, almost colorless, not at all the delightful swollen pink they went after a few kisses, mmmmm, kissing…
"Huh," Angel said. He leaned over and gave Husk a poke. "You were right, short king does have a look."
"Toldja."
Alastor said nothing, his eyes were laser-focused on his cards. One would think he was unmoved, if one wasn't sitting directly in his lap and seeing the way sweat was starting to bead on his forehead, the pink tip of his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, leaving them all the more enticing, huh, maybe a little kiss wasn't out of the question? But Alastor tensed the second Lucifer started leaning up, so he sank back down, eh, it was har…difficult to be too disappointed, there was still the view to enjoy, and Lucifer didn't see a reason not to say so.
"You look so good," Lucifer said dreamily. "Really good."
He could see the bob of Alastor's throat when he swallowed. "It's a point of pride for me."
Lucifer reached up and ran a fingertip down his cheek, tracing the line of his chin, soft skin beneath the pad of his finger. "…so pretty."
The crackle of radio static in Alastor's voice was more pronounced as he said, "Not generally what I strive for but thank you."
His ears were too far away for Lucifer to reach and he settled for whispering up at him, "You should absolutely wear a little bow on your tail. Be sooooooo cute."
The tiny sound that died in Alastor's throat was definitely not upset. "You should absolutely stop talking, about two sentences ago."
Lucifer turned to Angel and said in gleeful sotto voce, "Don't tell anyone, but he's wearing my underwear."
Huh. That was a new shade of red for Alastor to turn, the high arch of his cheeks changing into imitation apples. They almost matched the shade of his coat.
"Tell me more," Angel said at the same moment Alastor announced, "We're leaving."
Lucifer squealed as Alastor scooped him right up out of his lap and into his arms, laughing and kicking his feet as Alastor headed for the door. Oh, perfect, this was a great idea, if anyone could protect him from the betrayal of gravity, it was Alastor.
"Bye!" Lucifer squirmed to lean over Alastor's shoulder and waved to Angel and Husk.
Angel waved back, "Bye. Have a good night, have fun, don't behave on our account."
"Ang, please," Husk groaned, "Don't say shit like that, keeps me up at night."
"I'm keepin' the Swedish fish!" Angel called, right before the door swung shut behind them.
It was weird, Lucifer decided, but not unpleasant to be cradled in Alastor's arms while he carried him off to what might be parts unknown but was probably their bedroom. Was this how babies felt? Lucifer wasn't sure, he'd never been one and if anyone tried to cradle him like this at any other point in his life, Lucifer would have chewed off their face; he wasn't a cannibal, but he had some damn standards of respect.
Now that he was here, though, he could see the appeal. Alastor wasn't straining at all carrying him and it was frankly impressive; Lucifer was short but not all that light, angelic grace was heavy. Added bonus, for such a skinny guy, Alastor was certainly comfortable to lounge against. The lapel of his coat turned out to be a great temporary pillow, points to his tailor for that, and the material was thin enough for Alastor's natural demonic warmth to seep through, making his arms a cozy little place to be. His Tripadvisor review would be 4 out of 5 stars, the view was great and the transportation prompt, but the staff was a little on the brusque side.
Lucifer rubbed his cheek against that cushiony lapel, ooh, soft, was that cashmere? Good thing he didn't travel down the beard stubble route, angels weren't known for their facial hair and his cheek was as smooth as the baby-he'd-never-been's butt, nothing to catch on that fine material.
Not that Alastor seemed worried about it, he was only walking determinedly away from the parlor and hm, now that they were out here in the wide-open lobby, Lucifer had concerns. The ceiling was a lot further away out here and it looked much less comfortable than Alastor's arms. The whole 'falling off the world' thing seemed a lot more imminent now that he was in motion. He looked up at Alastor, who was pointedly not looking back, and asked hesitantly, "You'll keep me safe from gravity, won't you?"
A long moment of silence greeted that and Lucifer grew even more concerned. Was gravity betraying Alastor, too? 'cause if it was, Lucifer wasn't about to stand by and let Alastor get sucked into the atmosphere. Sucking was supposed to be his job, if Alastor ever quit playing around and let him work it, damn it all.
Finally, Alastor said, with the resigned tones of someone seeing a mistake through to the end, "If gravity should decide to take advantage of your drunken lapse, then I will keep you safe."
"Promise?" Lucifer said hopefully.
He sighed like Lucifer was being oh, so difficult and that was grossly unfair. If Alastor wasn't able to properly protect them from gravity's unforeseen, cruel treachery, then Lucifer needed to be on his toes. Okay, maybe his knees but in a generally upright position.
All his worries were for naught as Alastor assured him, "I promise to keep you safe from gravity to the best of my abilities." Then lower, a muttered aside to himself. "I must do, it's an appropriate punishment for my part in all this."
Lucifer patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a consoling way, "You don't get punished, you won the bet."
"I did, didn't I," Alastor said dryly, "Winner, winner, chicken dinner, and this is what I won." He tightened his arms around Lucifer, and he tried not to preen. Yep, Alastor won, and Lucifer was a grand prize, wasn't he, other demons would be jealous. Like Husk and Angel; he bet neither of them were getting to carry a Morningstar upstairs, only Alastor and Vaggie got a reward, and Vaggie didn't even make a wager!
A shame, though, he liked Husk and Angel. He hoped they got to carry at least someone upstairs even if it wasn't as good as he was.
"You got to play cards, that was nice," Lucifer said happily. "Aren't they nice? Husk and Angel?"
"Extremely." Huh, interesting that his tone sounded the exact opposite.
Alastor just didn't know how to appreciate good company, he should try hanging out with the Sins sometimes, talk about awkward dinner parties. "Angel is extra special nice."
"Oh, yes. I'm sure," Alastor said, all but dripping condescension, like the acid rain still pounding against the windows. "He's probably on the phone right now telling his ho-line about my underwear preferences."
"He would not!" Lucifer said, outraged. "I told him not to tell!"
"I stand corrected." Alastor's attention was more on the stairs they were going up which, probably a good thing, couldn't give gravity an edge.
"Wait." Lucifer squinted up at him. "Did you say ho-line?" That one was getting added to his mental list of Alastor's Unexpected Slang Usage, yeesh, Lucifer really did suck at naming things.
"Mm. It's some group project he's in, I assume," Alastor said dismissively, "he's mentioned it a few times."
Eh, close enough.
At the top of the landing, Alastor paused, looking down at Lucifer and something about that speculative gaze made him want to squirm, less in excitement and more like a bug on one of Niffty's pins.
"You know, I should think you owe me more than our simple wager," Alastor said, teasingly enough that Lucifer warily relaxed. "After all, your shenanigans deprived me of a package of Swedish fish."
"You didn't want them, anyway," Lucifer said, slouching back in his arms. He was not sulking, thank you, and he did not do shenanigans. He was the King of Hell, everything he did was, like, super important, even when it came to Swedish fish. "I didn't think you liked sweet stuff."
"I don't," Alastor agreed, "but Angel does."
And there it was. "And you wanted to deprive him of something he likes. You're so mean."
Alastor started walking again and it was probably a good thing the second floor was only for staff. The hotel guests were up at all hours but this hallway was empty, the only sound the soft hush of Alastor's shoes on the carpet and the faint, ever present static that surrounded him.
"You're one to lecture on manners," Alastor said, "Do you remember when we met?"
"Of course I remember, it wasn't that long ago." Lucifer wasn't in the habit of forgetting things, he had rather the opposite problem.
"It wasn't the time frame that concerned me, it was your level of inebriation," Alastor corrected, "Let me refresh that memory. When we met, the very first thing you did, after insulting my interior decorating choices, was to ask me if I was the bellhop."
Lucifer hunched down. Okay, this was a significantly less fun topic than gravity or Swedish fish. "A bellhop is an honorable and necessary profession."
"I'm sure that was your meaning when you called me one."
Okay, it was entirely possible that he'd sort of, kind of, meant it as an insult which was rude of him, he didn't have to take down an entire profession just to tweak Alastor. "I wasn't…it was just…you and Charlie…"
"Ah, yes," Alastor agreed. He paused to heft Lucifer back up, looked like even overpowered radio demons started feeling that angelic weight after a while. "You and your fears someone else might be stepping into the role you've avoided for so long. Interesting that was an issue of yours where I was concerned when we'd yet to even be introduced."
"You knew all that, though!" Lucifer protested, "You knew, and you were a dick about it!"
"Of course I was. You said it yourself in your little song, you started it."
He had, hadn't he, from the get-go, fuck. He'd been so taken aback and terrified and thrilled that Charlie invited him over. On edge the second he walked in the door, ready to snap and snarl at anything that came between him and his daughter. Lucifer stared down at his hands where they were curled up in his lap, pressed his fingertips together, and said, uncomfortably soft, "I'm sorry."
He didn't expect the arms around him to briefly tighten, almost like a rough hug. "I don't want an apology, I'm not that sort of hypocrite and you probably won't even remember this," Alastor told him, exasperated. "I'm simply pointing out that I am not the only one lacking manners."
"I'll remember this," Lucifer said, outraged. Didn't they just go over the memory thing?
Another soft sigh. "Of course you will."
Okay, this was getting…uncomfortable. "Why aren't we at my room yet?" Lucifer asked suspiciously. The hallways here all looked the same and he couldn't focus long enough to catch the room numbers as they went past doors. "Why are we even walking? You coulda done your shadow thing and got us upstairs."
"Two points. One, you're assuming I can bring along passengers and two, I suspect doing such a thing would increase the likelihood of my shoes being ruined."
That sounded reasonable, and yet. "You worry a lot about your shoes."
"They're good shoes."
"Why did you want me drunk, anyway. You aren't drunk," Lucifer said accusingly.
"I," Alastor said, "am not foolish enough to drink anything with the word 'gargle' in the name."
"But the word kinky didn't toss up red flags?"
"I have less of an argument to make when it comes to drinking things labeled as kinky."
Why the hell did everything Alastor say sound so reasonable? Lucifer was pretty sure a few red flags of his own should be cropping up somewhere like bloody daisies, but so far, the road was clear. He buried his face into Alastor's lapel again, inhaling deeply. The fragrance of his shampoo was wearing away and Alastor's own scent was coming through, coffee-bitter and faint brimstone and an underlying hint of greenness. Alastor smelled so incredibly good to him, his scent carried memories of getting up close and personal with it, and his dick was responding in predictable ways. More than that, he was getting wet between his legs, to the point of nearly soaking through his pants. Usually that was more of an involuntary reaction he ignored but right now, he was tempted to push a hand down there and give himself a feel, maybe a little fingering, an urge that hadn't happened in a very long time.
"You know," Lucifer said idly. "I'd probably let you fuck me right now, if you wanted to." Not exactly his smoothest delivery, but hey, it got the point across, right?
From the brutally unimpressed look he got from Alastor, it would be a bumpy ride across the desert as he said, dryly, "Please, don't try to tempt me with a good time."
Ah, well, can't strike out if you don't swing.
"Just as well," Lucifer sighed, though he did take the chance to get another sniff of Alastor's lapel. "That's how I got pregnant with Charlie."
Huh, weird. It felt like they stopped moving. Lucifer looked around and saw they had. The two of them standing between rooms in the empty hallway and Alastor's arms tightened almost to the point of pain. What…?
"…what?" Alastor said, belatedly echoing that thought.
"Prega…pregante." Stupid tricky words, messing with his tongue. "Preggers. With baby. That."
"I'm familiar with the term," Alastor said slowly, "I was unaware that you were the gestating parent."
Lucifer squinted and decided that meant the one knocked up. "Don't think many people do know. Don't think many people care. Not sure Charlie even knows, 'less her mom told her.
That was something of an uncomfortable memory. Back then, he and Lilith were already on the rocks when she asked him to give her a baby. He could admit to that much in painful hindsight; it wasn't like she just up and vanished one night, he'd been hurt she left but not surprised. Even then he was staying in his workshop more and more, sometimes for days at a time while she was out basking in the lordship of Hell. Then she came to him and told him she wanted a child, a family, and he still loved her. So he said yes.
He couldn't impregnate her. He was an angel, his seed was sterile, and he couldn't control her body that way, but he could control his. So he agreed to carry, no big deal, it was nine months out of ten thousand years, a drop in the well. A few glasses of wine to grease the wheels, some very pleasant sex, and he was knocked up. Yeehaw.
What he hadn't expected was that he'd hate every moment of it. Gender hadn't really been an issue until humans came into being and all the way back then, Lucifer chose to go with a male identity and had stuck with it for thousands of years. Being pregnant made him feel distinctly not-male, he'd never dreamed at how dysphoric it would make him. The unpleasant swell of his stomach, the breasts that came along with the package. Lucifer would normally say he was a big fan of breasts but only on other people. The baby kicking didn't make him feel awe, it made him feel sick, something alien was living inside him, a parasite draining his life from him, yeah, no, Lucifer was not a fan of the process.
The results on the other hand? All of that discomfort was forgotten, briefly, the first time he held Charlie, heard her take her first breath and cry it back out. Problem was, it didn't stay forgotten, and Charlie was worth it, sure, but she wasn't getting any siblings unless they shipped through the Hellbound Express.
Not that Lil ever asked for that. He tried to keep the complaints down, but she'd known how miserable he was during his pregnancy and didn't ask it of him again. Sometimes he was grateful she hadn't forced him to tell her no.
Other times, on the darkest nights when his loneliness was an empty, aching hole in his chest, he wondered if she regretted going with him back in Eden. It wasn't as if there was a wide pool of partners for her to choose from back then.
It was a gift of grace that he didn't miss her as much as he used to. They'd been happy together for a while, in the smallness of the new world. Only it didn't stay small, it kept growing and so did Hell. He hoped that wherever she was, she was all right. He couldn't, quite, wish for her happiness. Ditching him was one thing. Abandoning Charlie, the child she'd wanted so much, something else entirely.
He realized suddenly they were still just standing right in the middle of the hallway and Alastor seemed…wrong. Like he was upset for some reason. He was staring forward, breathing too fast, his nostrils gone white at the corners.
"What's wrong? Are you mad at me?" Lucifer asked, hating how small his voice was. "I was only kidding about you fucking me."
Alastor started, as if he'd been deep in thought. He started walking again, hitching Lucifer up in his arms. "No. I'm not upset with you."
Maybe not but he was upset about something. Lucifer racked his mind as best he could but right now that was more like striking a wet match on an underwater rock. There was only one thing he could come up with and it was seriously the last problem they'd ever have. "Worried you'll get me knocked up somehow? 'cause that's not happening, don't worry, never gonna do that again."
Alastor didn't look at him. "The thought never crossed my mind."
But then why—Alastor turning towards a door distracted him, ah, finally, his room, felt like they'd been walking for a year. Well, Alastor walking and him along for the ride.
Alastor set him on the bed and went over to the armchair where his pajamas were folded on the seat. He changed quickly but Lucifer was already shivering, feeling strangely alone for all that both of them were in the room. Despite what he said, it didn't feel like Alastor wasn't upset and Lucifer curled up, wrapping his arms around his knees. The bed felt too large, the room too cold, and please, he didn't want to be alone, not right now—
"Come on," Alastor said, interrupting the downward spiral of his thoughts. His hands were firm and strong, helping Lucifer strip off his clothes. He was a lot less careful with them than he was his own, tossing them on the floor and Lucifer might've been salty about that if he wasn't distracted by Alastor tucking him naked into bed and crawling in after him, hauling him right into his arms.
Lucifer curled into him eagerly, the solid line of his body comforting. Alastor was lanky as a beef jerky strip, there wasn't much of him horizontally but vertically there was a lot to work with and Lucifer snuggled into as much as he could reach. His cock, ever hopeful, was pressed to Alastor's side, a stiff line that neither of them paid much mind to at the moment.
"Oh. You're so warm," Lucifer mumbled. He nestled in closer and Alastor let him, settling a hand on Lucifer's back between his shoulder blades, right where his first set of wings would emerge. It was a strange sensation but not unpleasant and he sighed out again, "Warm."
"Thank you," Alastor said, the radio static of his voice hushed.
Heh, so much ego. "Not sure you get to take credit for how warm you are."
"No?"
The hand between his shoulders slid upward and settled on the back of his head, petting the pale muss of his hair and Lucifer leaned into it helplessly. Had Alastor ever touched him like this before? Had anyone? Not in a very long time and it felt lovely, so terribly gentle.
"Nnn," Lucifer sighed out, dreamily content, "I love it when you touch me like this."
The sudden warbling shriek of feedback came out of nowhere, making him wince, what the fuck? It faded quickly into a low stream of static, then vanished entirely. Lucifer leaned up on his elbows, resisting Alastor's attempt to hold him down and Alastor's expression was not a happy one, the sclera of his eyes more black than crimson as he stared up at the torn canopy.
"You should really go to sleep," Alastor said firmly.
"You are mad at me," Lucifer said, crestfallen. Fuck, maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the underwear to Angel.
Alastor sighed and looked at him, reaching out to tuck his hair back behind his ears and even that touch was too gentle. "I'm not. But you should go to sleep, we aren't having sex tonight."
"Oh." Lucifer bit his lip. "So, you really wouldn't fuck me right now? I mean, if you wanted that?"
"Not even if I were interested." He tugged Lucifer back down into his arms and Lucifer went, not quite reluctantly. Alastor's breath stirred his hair as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of Lucifer's head. "During my life on earth and existence here in Hell I've done many entertaining things. Some are rather a point of pride for me. You must understand, I've no illusions about what I am. I'm a certain variety of monster to be sure, but one I have not and will never be is a rapist."
"Huh?" That had him sitting right up despite Alastor trying to keep hold of him. Where the fuck had that come from? "But. That doesn't make sense, it's not rape if I say yes."
Alastor's mouth twisted, his smile cutting. "The time to discuss consent was before you drank Angel's bizarre juice."
"Ugh, don't say it like that," Lucifer groaned. His stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought, as if it was seriously considering giving vomiting a try for the first time. In spite of his unprecedented nausea, Lucifer started giggling suddenly, helplessly, because this was funny. It was funny, anyone looking in from the outside —if they survived— would have to see how funny this was. "I never realized how much of a gentleman you are. Here we are in Hell, and you won't even take advantage of the devil."
"No," Alastor did not laugh, his voice quietly firm. "I won't take advantage of you."
That was actually kind of sweet, wasn't it. Sweeter by far than Alastor's usual salt-lick style. Sweet, but not exactly useful in his growing battle with horniness.
Lucifer settled back down and snuggled in closer to Alastor, pleased when he allowed it. He didn't even move away when Lucifer hitched in closer, draping one leg over Alastor to press his persistent erection against his hip. "Guess I'll take care of it myself."
The silk of his pajamas was a lovely friction as Lucifer rocked against him, rutting gently against the slight give of Alastor's hip. Alastor only petted his hair, fingercombing through the pale strands while Lucifer moved against him, rolling his hips as he whimpered through his gritted teeth. It all felt so good, grinding against him, his cock oversensitive against dampening silk.
It wasn't enough, he couldn't quite get there, and Lucifer gasped out, "Can I…can I jerk off on you?"
"It feels as if you already are," Alastor said dryly.
Oh.
Lucifer started to pull away, the taste of shame settled like ashes on the back of his tongue, but Alastor's arm tightened around him. "But yes, if you like. After all, my consent isn't compromised."
Fuck, yes. Lucifer scrambled upright, kneeling over Alastor and taking his cock in hand, stroking with brutal intent. It was too dry and he didn't even think, swept his fingers back between his legs to slick them with the wetness sliding down his inner thighs and he heard Alastor make a noise, soft with surprise.
That was better and Lucifer jerked himself furiously, riding the slickness of his palm as he braced his weight on the other hand and leaned over Alastor, greedily taking in the sight of him. There was a faint flush to his cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth hard enough to show a bead of blood, a thin line of crimson trickling down his chin. But Alastor did nothing, not to stop him or encourage, he only lay there and let Lucifer use him and it was as hot as it was shameful, made hotter by the shame, God, it still wasn't enough.
"Can I kiss you?" Lucifer panted, yes, he wanted that, wanted to taste Alastor, the heat of his mouth, his tongue, all of him.
Alastor nodded hastily. "I believe I can allow that much."
Lucifer scrambled up, almost crawling on top of him, and pressed their lips together, spilling helpless little sounds into Alastor's mouth and tasting the warm salt of blood. Still wasn't enough, never enough, he wanted Alastor bare against him, wanted between his legs so he could watch his pretty face twist as Lucifer moved inside him…he wanted…he wanted Alastor inside him, at this moment he did, his inner thighs were slick from wanting, a hot, longing ache between his legs.
"God, I want you," Lucifer choked out, still jerking himself furiously, pushing his tongue in to lick at the razer-line of Alastor's teeth. "Always want you. I'd let you, let you do so much to me, let you hold me down and fuck me, I would—"
Alastor didn't push him away, but his kisses grew less giving, close-mouthed and brief. "Lucifer," he said between them, "stop. I can't do this."
Shame sharpened into something closer to pain and Lucifer nodded, already backing off, settling back on his knees, his eyes greedily searching out the pink, swollen line of Alastor's lips. Alastor was breathing heavily, his crimson eyes bright and avid as he watched Lucifer stroke himself. He couldn't but he wanted to, and Lucifer wasn't sure how tight his control was, but the last thing he wanted was for Alastor to regret him.
It wasn't going to matter in another moment and Lucifer groaned out, "s'okay, I'm close, I'm so close…ah…."
He shuddered as he came, pale, gold-tinted streaks falling over the silken dark of Alastor's pajama top. He sagged down, gasping and still stroking his cock, come dripping hot over his knuckles as his knees gave out and spilled him down on top of Alastor, smearing the mess of semen between them even as he quivered, his hazy mind giving in and sinking into the shivery pleasure of it.
All too soon, he noticed the sweat cooling on his skin and Lucifer shivered, only to be promptly tucked back beneath the blankets. Alastor tried to pull him against his side again, but Lucifer resisted and sat up against the headboard, he wasn't done looking his fill yet. The yearning ache still between his legs was easier to ignore now that his cock was content, and Lucifer drew up his knees, taking a moment to admire Alastor covered in…well. Covered in him.
"You do enjoy messing me up," Alastor said, almost fondly resigned. He plucked at his pajama shirt with distaste.
"Not my fault you look so good with my come on you," Lucifer said promptly and was immediately charmed when Alastor went a little pink. This guy. He could suck the fig leaf off a statue and now he was blushing?
"Much as I appreciate good fashion," Alastor said, "I believe I'll reserve that sight for you alone."
"I'd rip out the eyes of anyone else who tried to see you like this." Yeah…Lucifer was pretty sure he hadn't intended to say that aloud. Alastor's eyebrows rose but he didn't seem perturbed; no surprise there, he'd probably ask for his share of eyeball for a quick snack. On the contrary, rather than angry those pink cheeks darkened to a lovely rosy red.
"My, aren't we possessive tonight." Alastor's voice practically oozed vicious delight, all bright static and slight brassy undertones. "One might think you have certain ideas about me."
"Yes," Lucifer said shortly. Like he was fooling anyone about that? He couldn't even fool himself.
Exhaustion was tugging at him and Lucifer gave in and sank back down to the bed. It'd been a long damn day even before the unexpected addition of magic booze. Lucifer buried a yawn against the back of his hand and settled against Alastor, only to wince at the sudden pinch of sharp fingers against his side.
"Don't you dare fall asleep before cleaning me up."
"Yeah, yeah," Lucifer yawned. He managed to wave a hand in the direction of Alastor's shirt and the wrinkles didn't iron out so much as switch directions but at least he managed to clean away the stains.
"We should get some sleep," Alastor said. The tenderness of the kiss Alastor pressed to his hair made Lucifer want to melt, and his next words chilled with the force of an avalanche. "I suspect the headache you're going to wake with will be quite the entertaining experience. I wouldn't want to miss it."
Oh, this fucking guy. "You're such an asshole."
"You like it." Teasingly low, as if Alastor were whispering secrets and God help him, Lucifer did.
He did.
Sleep was slowly enfolding him, less tender than Alastor's arms, their warmth and comfort conspiring against him. Lucifer was nearly asleep when Alastor smoothed a hand down between his shoulder blades again and said, very softly, "If I asked, would you let me see your wings?"
Yeah, okay, that woke him right the fuck up. Lucifer shifted to look at Alastor. Who was lying there with his eyes closed as if he were already asleep, yeah, no, nice try, pal.
"Uh, they're kinda sensitive," Lucifer hedged. Not only that, they were a point of vulnerability; angel wings held power, it was the main reason to keep them folded away. In Heaven it didn't matter but down here in Hell? Lucifer usually didn't have them out unless he was actively using them or showing off.
Alastor's eyes slit open, showing a rim of crimson beneath dark lashes. "Oh, how terribly remiss of me. I've certainly never allowed you to fondle any of my sensitive places."
"Yeah, okay, geez, leave some sarcasm for the rest of us." Lucifer still hesitated to agree; this wasn't the same level as Alastor letting him feel up his tail, not unless that was Alastor stored his tentacles. But. Alastor didn't really ask for things so directly. He hinted and schmoozed and insinuated, sure, but to outright ask? The last thing he outright asked for, Lucifer still hadn't had a chance to give, see, that was a problem right there.
Alastor was waited patiently for an answer and Lucifer gave him half a shrug. "If I do, you gonna let me blow you?"
Hey, may as well kill two birds, right?
Alastor only raised his eyebrows. "Is that a deal?"
Oh, this. Fucking. GUY. "You better be joking right now."
One corner of Alastor's mouth tilted high, smirking, "Go to sleep."
Yeah, that sounded like a plan. Lucifer settled back against Alastor, resting his head over his chest right over the soft thud of his heartbeat. He might have lost the wager, but he was going to prove Alastor wrong about the headache being entertaining.
Even if it killed him.
-finis-
Notes