Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—"
"Cease this racket, would you kindly?"
Lucifer, rolling on the bed in pure undiluted hysteria, freezes in horror at the familiar voice.
"Alastor!" he says, sitting up and looking towards the source.
"Who else would it be," Alastor says dryly by the door, ears pinned back. "Keep your voice down, my ears are ringing."
Lucifer isn't sure how he manages it, but he somersaults off the bed and straight into the floor in front of Alastor.
On his knees, he bangs his hand on the ground, wailing and dry heaving. "I'm sorry! I'm so fucking sorry! I know that doesn't justify it but—"
"As delightful as witnessing you prostrating yourself before me is," Alastor interrupts, "I'd like to be enlightened as to what this is about."
The tip of his foot nudges at Lucifer's head, forcing it back.
The last thing Lucifer wants is to look at Alastor. He'd very much like to lock himself up in Tartarus instead, but he has a daughter to take care of and amends to make.
Looking up at Alastor he finds…nothing? His hair is a little mussed up but he's perfectly clothed. Well, he's not wearing the many layers he usually does, but even his chiton is enough to keep him proper.
Alastor's head is slightly inclined as he waits, and he looks genuine in his curiosity. There's no loathing behind his eyes.
Maybe that should make him feel relieved, but instead Lucifer has a sinking feeling.
"You…don't remember either?"
"Either? Ah, so it's not just me that woke up with a void where my memory should be. I'd like to know what wine that was, so I can avoid it."
"Alastor! You really don't know?"
"Apparently so! Know what?"
Fuck, worse than apologizing is having to explain why first. Lucifer swallows, sitting up but remaining on his knees. "We…uh…we fucked."
Alastor freezes mid blink, then his eye twitches.
"...What?"
Lucifer goes back to groveling. "I'm so—"
"Enough of that!" Alastor snaps. "Stand up!"
Lucifer does so immediately.
"You implied you have no recollections of last night, is that correct?"
"Not past us at the table, at the end of dinner."
"Then how, pray tell, have you come to this conclusion, of all things?"
"Uh, I was in your bed."
"A favorite pastime of yours, that led to nothing the other times you did the same."
"I'm half naked."
"We've been fully naked around each other in the bath and that did not mean fornication."
"...And I wrote this note for myself."
Rolling his eyes, Alastor takes the note from him and reads…
He makes an effort to not react, but Lucifer sees the color draining from his face.
"...This means nothing," Alastor says, crumpling it and biting his own lips hard enough that ichor trails down his chin. "It doesn't mention anything of the sort."
"Alastor…what else could it mean?"
"I don't know! You wrote it for yourself, you should figure it out!"
Oh no, he's in denial. Lucifer doesn't want to traumatize Alastor but…pretending it didn't happen isn't the solution.
Before he can think of how to proceed, Alastor frowns and looks back at him. "If you think we…did that…why are you apologizing and not dragging me out by my hair?"
"What? Why would I do that to you?"
"Did you not tell me about abhorring the ones that throw themselves at you?"
"Because they were tricking me for their own gains."
"Oh, so now you trust my character?"
"...You wouldn't have sex with me for that." Fuck, I wish you would, sometimes. "Your pride doesn't allow it. And I'm the one that supplied the wine that got us both in this mess. So…this is my fault."
"...That doesn't explain why you're apologizing."
Lucifer swallows thickly. Maybe Alastor being so obtuse now is a means of protecting himself but…Lucifer can't try and run from this.
"Alastor…" he says carefully. "You made it clear you have no interest in fucking. So if something did happen…your consent was, at best, compromised, and at worse… non-existent."
A heavy silence falls.
"Nope."
It's so out of character, it takes a minute for Lucifer to realize Alastor said it.
"Wha—"
Alastor huffs. "You didn't force yourself on me."
"Uh—"
Before Lucifer can articulate anything else, Alastor turns and leaves at a brisk pace.
Alarmed and confused, Lucifer follows. And then stops.
The atrium is a mess. The ground is littered with destroyed pieces of marble, and there are statues haphazardly strewn around it.
…There are busts of Char-Char, varying owls and…Alastor.
Damn.
"Where is that blasted thing?" Alastor murmurs, head turning this way and that as he makes his way across the place, looking at every nook and cranny.
Lucifer trails behind him, and—temporarily distracted looking at statues of pink flamingos in the pool—narrowly misses stubbing his toe in a broken marble head of Palmon.
Huh, now that he looks closely; the destroyed pieces all look like him.
The fuck?
Oh, right, speaking of fucking…
"What are you after?" he asks, catching up as Alastor looks behind a bust of Ozzie. "And what do you mean, I didn't?"
"I meant that you can stop flagellating yourself. If something occurred, it wasn't as you presume it to be. And I happen to be looking for my flower to cease this nonsense."
Oh, Lucifer finally understands.
Alastor is so traumatized he's lost it.
"Alastor," Lucifer says gently. "How is a flower going to help?"
"Because it can put this matter to rest by recounting our actions last night, you fool."
…Ah. Right.
Wait.
"What about your shadow thing?"
With an annoyed glare, Alastor watches as the shadow materializes…with its mouth sewn shut.
"Apparently," Alastor says through gritted teeth. "In my likely altered state of mind due to the alcohol, I elected to tell it to not, under any circumstances, tell me what went on through the night. And that includes even if I demanded it to do so."
The shadow looks droopy.
"Thankfully, I happened to have a real flower in my room, as the pocket dimension ones don't count for this; but when I woke up this morning and found recollections were severely lacking, I quickly noticed it was gone." He pauses, and raises his eyebrow at a small statue of himself. "I don't suppose you recall what this, ah, decorating is all about?"
Probably my feelings. "Nope, no idea."
"Exquisite craftsmanship, at least, though you need to manage the placement and clean the floors."
"Alastor."
"Yes?"
"Why are you so sure I didn't…you know?"
Lucifer really should have waited to ask that when Alastor was facing him. As it is, Alastor freezes, but he can only see his taut back.
"Because…"
The shadow perks up and makes motions with its hands as if to encourage Alastor to continue.
Lucifer thinks Alastor is about to concede defeat and accept reality, but instead Alastor suddenly whirls around and pulls up his sleeves.
"Look at this," Alastor says, showing him his bare arms and even pulling down his collar to reveal more of his chest. "There are no bruises on me. I'm not the sort that'd submit without a fight. So…if something did happen, it was…well, you understand."
(On the ground, the shadow is rocking itself in a fetal position while the cats have appeared and are patting it in consolation).
"I…I think I do…"
"Oh good! So—"
"Oh, no."
"...What now."
Lucifer looks at Alastor in utter terror. "I had my way with you while you were unconscious."
Alastor stares at him, then throws his hands up in a wild gesture. "Phanes, save me from this idiocy. You didn't have your nefarious way with me! If we fucked, it was consensual!"
"But you don't like sex!"
"...Maybe the drink finally put me in a experimenting mood."
"Fina— I took your virginity?!"
"You're taking my sanity, is what you're doing!" Alastor briefly transforms, then just as quickly turns back, face so red it mirrors his clothing. "We're not discussing this any further. Or ever. Where the fuck is that flower?"
"But—"
"Why are you so insistent on this, anyway?" Alastor suddenly snaps, eyes now narrowed into slits. "Is this a fantasy of yours? Do you want to say you—"
"How dare you suggest it. I would never want that!"
"Then why must you insist on the subject?"
"...Because if I did something, I need to pay for it."
"Only if the other party thinks you have cause to. And I happen to be said party here, and I'm not demanding anything."
Maybe scum would love this development, but Lucifer likes to think he has a base line of morality. And even if he didn't, his feelings for Alastor mean he can't live with himself, knowing he's done something to him and doesn't pay him back somehow.
Then again, if Alastor prefers to believe he, what, suddenly decided he was fine with sex at the most convenient time, is Lucifer really helping by telling him otherwise? Sure, he has the right to reparations, but would anything really make up for an emotional toll?
"Alright, if you say so, we can leave it be for now," Lucifer concedes, "But if, err, new information comes to light, it's okay and I'm ready to take res—"
"I'm not some frail maiden you need to take responsibility for!" Alastor screeches. "Nor will I be relegated to another notch in your bedpost that you can throw gold at and wash your hands off after you've had your fun!"
"Hey now! I never said anything of the sort!"
"Ha! Then how do you usually deal with your drunken mistakes?"
"...I don't know. I…this hasn't happened before. I told you, I usually can't get drunk."
"Well, then maybe you should continue to care to not do so, given you immediately bedded the first warm body you found."
"Hey, that's grossly unfair!"
"How?"
You aren't just anybody. Shit, I can't say that. "Didn't you say it was consensual? You're the guy that doesn't even have an interest in sex and still went along with it with the first option available!"
"That's…!" Alastor stops himself, carding a hand through his hair—the way his ears bob back and up is so cute—before sighing and calming down. "Let's just forget this line of questioning."
For some reason, the shadow is enacting a pantomime of it crawling and scratching up the wall in wailing misery.
"Perhaps it was something in the drink," Alastor says. "Where did you say you procured it from?"
Lucifer feels himself sweating. He hadn't said, and while blaming the drink might be all fine and dandy usually, right now he has the distinct impression he has Busk's life in his hands, and the God won't live to see another sunrise if he tells the truth.
And, granted, Lucifer is vexed with him. How dare the God of Wine give him something so good even Lucifer could get drunk?
…Okay, okay, he can see why the God of Wine did that.
And he can't blame the drink. The drink only brought out behavior he'd been suppressing, and Lucifer can't have a friend of Charlie's tortured and killed for his own crimes.
"Err, it was something I had in my pantry. Old, I don't remember where I got it from."
"Mhmm, you should look into it, to avoid a repeat performance."
"Oh, that I will."
"Good, now help me look for the flower…"
And Lucifer realizes he does not, in fact, want said flower found.
What did his drunk self tell the object of his desire? He'd just yesterday come to the conclusion he doesn't want to screw this up. Neither the friendship nor the alliance.
"Is that necessary?" he needles, "Aren't you sure it's all good? What do you need it for?"
"Have you looked at the state of this place? And yet, I have no idea how this came to be. I'm not used to having my memory so compromised, and I intend to take steps to remediate that."
Fair.
Looking at the chaos, Lucifer tries to focus on bringing even a spark of something back…
But nothing. His memory is utterly blank. Not even glimpses of blurred out thoughts.
"Yeah, I'm not used to not having anything at all either," he admits.
"...That wine wouldn't happen to be made using Lethe water, would it?"
"Of course not."
"You don't remember whence the wine came from, how can you be sure?"
"I've always kept a close watch on anyone coming here, and forbade anyone from ever taking the waters without passing it through me first. And even if there are Oceanids related to each of the rivers, they still fall under my dominion, which means even they can't offer their own waters to someone without my approval. Even the Styx being given to Zeus is something that had to be checked with me first. And I sure as fuck would have never allowed anyone to use the Lethe on a drink, nor would I have made one with it myself."
"Hmph, very well. Anyway, I was looking through the Odeon earlier. That seemed fine, but the flower wasn't there. Let's try the library now."
Hoping the flower had died of shame or something, Lucifer silently follows. He doesn't wish it a painful death just…a nice one that means it can't fucking talk.
Oh, and speaking of pain…
"You, err, are you alright?"
"I woke up without memories and with you spewing gibberish, what do you think?"
"I meant, uh, any physical discomfort?"
Alastor stops, hands on the door to the library, and turns around to look at Lucifer like one looks at a monkey they fear is about to throw shit at them.
"No. Why?"
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Why?"
"Oh. That's, uhm, good! It's just, you know, certain activities can result in…ah discomfort in certain places."
"My only discomfort comes from listening to this. I—" Alastor stops suddenly, and he blinks as if he's just realized something, and his gaze scrutinizes Lucifer more closely. "Are you currently experiencing certain forms of discomfort usually associated with such activities?"
Well damn, Lucifer hadn't expected that to be turned around on him. But he supposes turnabout is fair play here.
Lucifer would like to say he wouldn't be, well, playing that part. But wouldn't he? Love and drunk sex aren't exactly things he's dominated, or felt much of before, so who knows what last night's Lucifer decided to engage in? Who does what is certainly a talk for another time—
No! It's a talk for never!
"I'm not hurting down there. Or anywhere, for that matter." Physically, at least. His soul is still stabbing itself.
Alastor smiles brightly at him and claps his hands. "Wonderful! Given neither of us are experiencing anything right now, I suppose this puts your theory to rest!"
Does it, really? I mean, maybe they did something less drastic for the first—and only, and only!!—time, given Alastor had never done this before—
Aaaaah don't think about that, don't think about that. Don't—
"Lucifer."
"Ah, what?"
"As much as I regret pulling you back from where you went, it has just dawned on me that you are still scantily clad."
…
Lucifer blinks and looks down at himself. Right, he's been walking around in nothing but his underwear. Sure, it consists of a pair of shorts and not the usual loincloth, but still.
"Put something on," Alastor demands, now flushed and refusing to maintain eye contact.
"Come on, after bathing together, this is too much for you?"
"Too little. And It's different. Outside of the baths, this is indecent."
Lucifer would usually make a joke, or ten, here, but he's pretty sure he's burned through any freedom to make sexual jokes at Alastor for infinity, so instead he summons his clothing from wherever he'd thrown them last night.
The smell hits him as soon as they appear.
"What the fuck?!" Disgusted Lucifer hastily lets go. "Ew, is that…vomit?"
"Aha!" Alastor is looking positively gleeful at the filthy garments on the ground. "And that, I believe, solves the riddle of your state of undress!"
…Oh.
Well, maybe not. Maybe Lucifer did remove his clothing because they were soiled, but then decided since he's undressed he might as well do an activity usually associated with being naked around someone else…
But he has to admit, evidence against fucking is piling up, and Lucifer is in favor of that.
The one caveat, again, is the damn note. What else would Lucifer need to take responsibility for, if not sex?
Still not quite convinced, Lucifer sends the disgusting heap away, and conjures a new cloak. This should be enough, for now.
Alastor goes back to opening the library door and—
"Damn," is all Lucifer can say at the state of the interior.
Scrolls are haphazardly strewn around on the floor, on desks, and even on the shelves. There's ink stains everywhere.
Lucifer walks to a pile on the table and looks it over.
"Looks like…plans," he states. It's hard reading the sloppy and childish handwriting of his and Alastor's drunk selves, but the scrolls seem to be ideas. The ones in front of him include a crudely drawn map of the underworld and divisions such as 'scum' and 'decent' allotted to different parts. "We must have spent a good deal of time here," Lucifer muses. And, fuck yeah, the more time they spent writing shit down in the library, the less time for fucking. Unless they did it leaning on the shelves…
Alastor seems as if he'll say something, then his head swivels to the other side of the room, perking up.
"Aha! There you are!"
Shit.
Lucifer follows Alastor further in, and amidst some shelves, propped on a bench, is Alastor's narcissus.
Strewn around it on the floor are various drawings of it, or fields of it.
"Tell me, what did you see?" Alastor asks it, and Lucifer braces for impact.
*
Unlike other flowers, this Narcissus has spent enough time with Alastor to know better than to dilly-daddle, much less joke. Upon being ordered to, it doesn't hesitate to break into a non emotional narration of what it witnessed.
Which…wasn't much.
It'd been in Alastor's room for a long time, and with the door shut, it could neither hear or see anything going on beyond it.
Until, eventually, Alastor stumbled in and grabbed it.
At that time, the atrium had still been intact.
But not so much the library, and already some scrolls were spread around the floor.
"Behold! A real flower!" Alastor said proudly, propping up the flower with unsteady hands as he walked further in until he turned a corner to see Lucifer, sitting on the floor, body slightly swaying as he poured over flower related scrolls.
—"Describe his attire," Alastor interrupts—
Fully clothed in black.
"Great! So we got a narcissist here…" Lucifer said, then started to look over a particular scroll with intent.
"Narcissus," Alastor corrected, setting the flower on a stool and also sitting on the floor, using a shelf to lean on.
"Whatcha I say?" Lucifer asked, but then turned a page and groaned. "This doesn't have that! Wheeeeeeere is it…aha! There! It's on the shelf behind you!"
Lucifer crawled to where Alastor had his eyes half shut, swaying as if about to fall asleep, and flicked at his shoulder. "Move so I can grab it."
"...Nah, I like it here."
Lucifer huffed in frustration. He looked up at the shelf—and seemed to need steadying from that motion alone—before his expression cleared up again.
"It's above you! You don't have to move after all!"
Unsteadily he rose, seemingly as if he was about to fall down again, but managed to get up. He then—
*
"W-What is it?" Lucifer asks nervously, seeing Alastor's eye twitch.
"It appears that at some point, to sate your own desires, you elected to... while I was seated and you were standing upright... take hold of me by my antlers."
Oh no, I forgot that? I mean…oh no. "And? And?"
"Then shoved your crotch in my face."
Lucifer pales. His mouth opens but only garbled noise comes out.
"And then you managed to reach the scroll behind me that you were seeking, and proceeded to put distance between us again."
"...You bitch. You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"I have no idea what you are referring to," Alastor says, with the smug look of a liar.
"You—"
"Shush, I need to hear the rest."
*
"Got it!" Lucifer said, finally letting go of Alastor—who he'd been using to steady himself— and moving away, scroll in hand. "See…see…aha! Look! The narcissist on this page looks nothing like the real thing! It's black and white! I told you we can't trust the scrolls!"
Alastor blinked but didn't seem to be paying attention, eyes focused—or trying to focus—on the area of Lucifer's body level with his eyes, which just happened to be his—
"Do you want me to suck your cock?" Alastor said abruptly.
Lucifer's reaction was to drop the scroll on Alastor and stare at him, mouth agape.
"What?"
"You are the one who keeps mentioning it. Don't you want it?"
"But…but you don't even like dick!"
"I told you I don't mind yours!"
"Wha…?! No, you didn't!"
"Yes, I did!"
"No, you didn't!"
"Yes, I did!"
"No, you didn't!"
"Yes! I! Did!"
"No! You! Didn't!"
"I did!" Alastor crossed his arms, looking downtrodden. "I did! You just don't want me to!"
"Nonononono! I do!"
"...Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Then come closer!"
Lucifer did, all too happily.
Alastor put his hands on Lucifer's hips, then blinked.
"Hmm, clothes need to come off."
"Oh, I can do—"
"No! I'll do it!" Alastor's head snapped up to look at Lucifer as he said it.
The head movement, however, seemed to be too much, as he quickly turned a lovely shade of green and—
"W-What is it now?" Lucifer asks nervously, noticing how Alastor looks even more tense now.
"..."
"Alastor?" Oh fuck, had Lucifer decided to use the proximity to request a blowjob??
"...My apologies," Alastor says, as if speaking in and of itself is difficult. "It seems that the state of your clothing is my fault."
What state of…oh, the vomit. "Oh." Lucifer never thought he'd be happy to hear he got vomited on, yet here he is. "It's fine."
"It seems that, ah, when you were close to me I felt indisposed and that happened. I'll deal with it."
"No need! I mean, it's my fault with the wine! The goats will take care of it!"
"...Very well." He turns to the flower again. "Continue."
"This is so humiliating!" Alastor cried, hiding his head in his hands.
"It's okay!" Lucifer assured him, now wearing only his undergarments, soiled clothing sent elsewhere. "You can blow me when you're feeling better!"
"...Really?"
"Of course! But right now, we got to finish our plans."
"Right!" Alastor perked up. "Our plans! For the Underworld!"
"All thanks to you!"
"All thanks to me!"
"And Charlie!"
"...Her too."
"And Stolitz."
"...Hmph."
"And not thanks to Palworld!"
"Yeah, fuck Paimon!"
"Nooooo, fuck me instead!" Lucifer wailed.
"But you didn't do anything wrong! You were great!"
"I was?"
"You tried! That's what matters!"
"Right!"
"But I'm still the one who succeeded."
"You are! You…and Charlie and even Stuckup deserve…deserve statues!"
"I do!"
"Let's make some!"
"And we can have one of Paimon too."
"...Because you want to fuck him?"
"We can destroy his statue as a fuck you."
"Oooooh, I like that! Fuck yeah, let's destroy the bitch!"
They left.
*
Alastor sighs.
"The good news is that we now know what the atrium was about. It seems that was an apparent attempt to express gratitude for my success, while bashing Paimon—literally, haha!—for his inaction."
"Oh. And the bad news?"
"The knowledge stops here. We left and didn't come back."
Lucifer groans.
"Ugh, we barely made progress. Alright, that's it, where are my goats?"
*
This is what Alastor most feared.
"You told them to leave for the whole night, remember?"
"Yeah, but maybe I changed my mind and called them back, and then they can help piece together what the fuck happened."
Alastor certainly hopes they don't. The flowers are something only he can hear, the goats not so much.
When he'd been in an altered state for a few mere minutes the other day, he'd somehow already admitted to not minding Lucifer's touch.
And even in that little glimpse from his Narcissus, he'd already been… soliciting Lucifer.
He can only imagine all he might have said now, when his feelings have since evolved and he was like that the whole night.
In fact, even if he's still utterly devoid of any recollection, Alastor is pretty certain what the note is about; doubtlessly, he must have confessed, and Lucifer turned him down, but felt some pity and told himself he must make amends for giving Alastor such feelings only to have them lead nowhere.
The forgetfulness from Lucifer is a gift. Or would be, if, in his apparent endless lust, he hadn't immediately assumed they slept together. And worse, that Alastor had been unwilling.
The loss of memory had given Alastor a way out of it, but admitting to likely having been onboard the ordeal will only open him to another bout of shame.
If only Lucifer would stop looking like a kicked puppy at the prospect of non consensual intercourse, that'd be that.
He makes the mistake of glancing at his shadow, who shakes its head in disapproval.
*
As much as he'd rather do this in private, Lucifer is well aware Alastor won't allow it, so he summons a goat right there and then.
"So, after I sent you all away yesterday, did I rescind the order to stay away?"
"No."
Ah damn, there goes that. Well, it's not as if he's not without a solution here: the memory pool exists. He just wanted to make sure the memory is something he's willing to retrieve, is all. It would be better if something had come back to him by now, but the whole night is still bizarrely, utterly blank.
If he didn't run such a tight ship, maybe Lucifer would take up Alastor's suggestion that the drink was made with Lethe water. That and if it had been made with it, they wouldn't even recall drinking it at all.
So it couldn't be—
Wait.
Lucifer feels his hair standing on end, and his sudden idea must have shown on his face, because Alastor grabs his shoulder and shakes it.
"Lucifer? What is it?"
Lucifer ignores him, instead turning to the goat again.
"You said I never changed my mind, but did I, at any point, order you to do something?"
"Yes."
Lucifer swallows. "Tell me everything from the moment I summoned you, to the moment you left, in detail."
*
The summons arose close to the hour the Master usually expected them to begin preparing breakfast.
Two went, answering the call that came from the stables.
There, their master was wearing only his underwear, and the guest stood beside him, but with his face turned away and arms crossed.
"Bring me…uh…I think half a cup of—"
"Will that be enough?" the guest snapped.
"I don't know! I've never done this before!"
"Get a whole cup!"
"Fine, fine. Bring one…oh wait, there's two of us…bring me two cups of the Lethe waters."
They left to obey.
When the water was procured and they returned, they found their Master had moved to the guest bedroom.
"What's this…?" the Master said. "Oh. Right. The Lethe waters. Uh. You can leave."
So they left.
*
"Leave," Lucifer manages to rasp out, ears ringing and ichor draining from his face.
This time, Alastor moves to stand in front of him, placing both hands on his shoulders and shaking.
"What is wrong with you?"
"What do you mean, what's wrong? What do you think? I had them bring the Lethe waters to forget something! And we both know what that has to mean."
He should be apologizing, for all the good that does, not shouting, but he's hyperventilating. It had been a theory before, not truly concrete, but now—
"Lucifer! Focus on me! Nothing else, but me."
The hands on his shoulder leave and are placed on either side of his face, shifting it so he's looking up at Alastor.
"If anything, this should have assuaged you."
Oh, that's it. Alastor has lost it.
"Alastor…" he says, wondering how to even go about this.
But Alastor huffs. "Did you not hear their description of me? Do I look like someone who would react to being forced with a mere show of crossed arms?"
…Huh.
He has a point, actually.
"You'd burn everything to the ground."
"Precisely! Besides…"
"Yeah?"
"...You don't seem like the sort to do something like that, no matter how drunk."
Hearing that is worth more than Lucifer can quantify, right now. And any other time he'd be high on it, but the relief coursing through his veins is overriding anything else.
"Thank fuck," he croaks out. "I thought—"
Alastor huffs, and the hands on his cheek change from a gentle hold to pulling at them.
"You would not have been like this had you simply believed me from the start."
The pinching stings, but Lucifer doesn't mind.
"You didn't exactly give me a good reason, until now. Anyway…with that settled…this doesn't explain the letter, your shadow and drinking the Lethe. Unless…maybe you regretted it? Maybe I coached you to experiment, you agreed to it, didn't like it and wanted to forget it ever happened?"
"..."
Suddenly, the warm hands on his face drop, and Lucifer has to stop himself from holding them there. And too quickly, Alastor is stepping back, face stony and smile taut.
"...It should be obvious," Alastor says icily. "That if anything,you were the one to want the Lethe."
"Why?"
"Will you allow me to answer that?"
"What? Why wouldn't I? Out with it!"
"Hecate."
"..."
"Perhaps, as you said, the drink put me in the mood for experimentation, and you agreed to it. Afterwards, however, you regretted it, seeing it as a betrayal towards her. That, despite that she left—"
"Alastor."
"See? You won't even allow me to mention facts. You regretted it, and tried to erase your mistake by forgetting it ever happened."
"But…the note…"
Alastor shrugs. "Perhaps you felt bad dragging me into your mess. Perhaps I balked at having to have my memory wiped over your change of mind. So you promised to compensate me for it, and wrote a note meant to assure that. Only, in our altered state, it never occurred to either of us that the note would not only not suffice without further clarification, but that it would inadvertently ruin your plans to bury what happened."
That…that sounded logical.
It tied everything in a neat little bow, didn't it?
And yet…
Would he really have a drunken change of heart to the point of wanting to forget it ever happened?
Besides, even if he still feels something for Lilith, what Alastor was about to say was correct; she had disappeared, for too long, without explanation. He shouldn't feel bad about fucking someone else.
And Alastor isn't just a random somebody. How could Lucifer ever regret it to this point?
"No," Lucifer says eventually.
"No?"
"Yes, no. Look, I don't think I'm the sort that would fuck up and just…try to pretend it didn't happen."
"Yet you think you are the sort to forc—"
"Well! I couldn't think of another possibility so I panicked. Now that I'm calmer, maybe this has another explanation, too. Let's see…we usually make our deals in the dining room, maybe there's something there related to the note."
"...Very well, lead the way."
As they walk, Lucifer considers the implications of their current predicament.
If this lack of memory is because they drank the Lethe, then the memory is never coming back on its own.
Which, damn it, is frustrating now that he knows that his drunk self is smooth enough—or drunk Alastor malleable enough—to have convinced Alastor into sex. He very much wants that one of a kind memory.
Thankfully, there is a way to fix that…which hopefully Alastor doesn't remember—
"Incidentally, Lucifer, given our memory will not be coming back naturally, the only way to retrieve it is using that Memory Pool."
—Nope, the bastard had remembered it.
And, shit, it's one thing for Lucifer to see what happened, it's another for Alastor. No way did he not spill the beans at any point.
"Err, look, maybe we can discuss that?" he says tentatively. "Do we really need the memory back?"
"I agree with you."
"You do? I mean, great!"
"We can agree to neither of us retrieving our memory."
Ugh, there goes his memory of a once-in-an-eternity sex with him. But better than Alastor demanding to remember too. "Yeah. Sure. Alright, here we are…"
The dining room isn't in disarray like the library or atrium, but there are pieces of scrolls over the table.
Lucifer takes one side, and Alastor takes the other. It's more ideas. A design for a house with unintelligible notes. Drawings of flowers. A herd of—
"Lucifer."
Lucifer looks up at being called. Alastor has a paper on one hand, and the now uncrumpled note in the other. Lucifer walks up to him and sees it immediately: the upper part of the paper is torn, and fits the ripped bottom of the note.
And the paper is…a drawing of a chariot, drawn by four horses.
"Perhaps you meant to give me a chariot for my willingness to play along," Alastor muses.
Lucifer blinks down at it. The chariot looks just like his. Maybe in his drunken state, he drew what he knew. Still, knowing Alastor's questionable taste, would he really want something like Lucifer's chariot and not something red or green?
That and…
"The goat said we were initially by the stables when I summoned them." And Lucifer had tried to not think about that, before, because he sure as fuck doesn't need the image of fucking Alastor in the stable, thank you very much. "Let's go there."
Walking to it, Lucifer isn't sure how to feel. This is the final, unquestionable nail to his worst fears…but Alastor being proven right still feels off to him.
They reach his stable, which is overly large for its usual usage.
"Because some Gods came down here in their chariots during the height of the Titanomachy, I had this place be large to accommodate more chariots," Lucifer explains.
He opens the double doors and…
To the side, there's still only one chariot. His. But walking further in…
Alastor snorts. "It seems you managed to create one of the two horses even in your altered state."
Indeed, there are now three horses inside.
"Ah, fuck," Lucifer says, realizing something.
"What now?"
"If I created it with my divinity, then this creature is bound to the Underworld. Sorry, but you can't have it."
Alastor hums, watching this creature. "Such a pity, it looks presentable." The horse gives Alastor a side eye very similar to Alastor's own, and neighs as if in protest.
Lucifer wants to snort, since all three have the same color and eyes, how would one be better than the other? But he does sense something different with the new one. Approaching, he lifts a hand and the horse immediately comes forth to nuzzle it.
"Oh, it has my mark on it," Lucifer notes.
"Meaning?"
"He's more attuned to me, in a way. And can probably make use of some of my divinity."
"The other two don't have that?"
"Yup, just this one."
The horse neighs again and sticks his head up, clearly proud of itself.
"Braggart," Alastor says. "Maybe it is best I don't have it. I don't quite like it."
"Hey! Don't talk badly about…about…ah shit, I don't know its name."
"Give it one."
"It's not that simple! These aren't regular creatures. I can't just give or change names at will. Once they receive a name, they are bound to it. If I drunkenly named it, I'm fucked." He turns to the horse. "Did I give you a name?"
It moves his head as if in assent.
"Can you spell it out or something?"
It moves its head sideways in a negative motion.
Lucifer sighs. "Alright. I guess that leaves me no choice." He snaps his fingers and two goats appear. "Bring me a basin filled with the waters of memory."
"What?" Alastor seems overly alarmed. "I thought we'd agreed not to—"
"I'm not ingesting it. I just want to witness the moment I created it and nothing else, to figure out the name."
"...I see."
His underlings come back with what he requested, and Lucifer simply crouches on the ground. Alastor seems miffed, but follows suit, watching closely.
Here, surrounded by the sight and smell of the horses, it should be easy to concentrate on them and not have his thoughts wander.
He tries to imagine himself touching the horse, saying its name…
It works, and soon the water begins to bring an image…
Speaking of which, the horse snorts and turns around to leave them to it with a flick of its tail.
"Pweeeeeease show me your taaaaaaaail," the wail comes from inside the basin, jostling him; and to Lucifer's horror, he looks down to see the image projected is one of him—already nearly naked—hugging Alastor's legs and pressing his face into his ass, while Alastor's tendrils try to pry him off. "How will I make anatomically correct statues if I can't see it??"
"Unhan— unleg me, you limpet!"
"Shit!"
He hastily retrieves his hand, ending the sequence.
Alastor raises one judgemental eyebrow at him.
"I'll focus harder now!" Lucifer promises.
"You better."
Lucifer places his hand inside again. Willing all his focus to be on horses and names…
The water shifts again, showing a new image…
They were in the stable, much like now, and Lucifer was excitedly running rings around the horse.
"See! I told you I could do it!" He stopped, clearly tipsy, from walking in circles, and leaned against the horse for balance.
"What will you name it?" Alastor asked.
Lucifer looked at the horse with watery eyes and—
"Alastor."
Lucifer takes his hand off the water again.
He stares at Alastor—the God, not the horse—who is still gazing at the water, face pale.
"...Err…"
"You named the horse after me."
"Uhm…seems…so…?"
"A name you cannot undo." Alastor is changing. Antlers growing and eyes darkening as he grows.
Behind him, his shadow has constructed a shadow grave with Lucifer's name on it and is tearfully placing flowers. Huh, that doesn't look like a good sign.
"You. Fucking. Named. A. Horse. After. Me." The voice becomes more and more distorted.
Shit, Lucifer supposes this is not the right time for a 'I'm riding Alastor' joke.
Standing up, he tries to calm Alastor down. "It's not so bad—"
"Ŷ̷̧̼̦̜̟̠̫̓̉̒̔ö̴̜̍̅̓̀̂͝u̷͍͔̼̒́̏̎͑͘̕ n̴̤̮̜̄̾̅̽̈́̚à̷̛̯̩̦̩͚̟̄͐͘m̶̲̬̫̤̫̃̆̌̆̇̈́̽e̵̙̯̾͝d̷͎͇̲̹͍͝ ̶̯̥͓͂͐̕͝ä̸̭͍̖͉́̇̕̕ͅ ̵̣̬͕͚͎̣͙̓͛̍̀h̶̬̅͜ở̵͇̝̆̏͋͐̊r̸̛̩̜̥̃s̶̡̩̙̔̿͛́̽ȩ̴͉̚ ̴̹̫̩̲̼̙̔͛͗͆̀͆̋a̶̙̞͛f̷̨͖̳̺͈̄͋̄̋̉̇̔ṯ̴̥̜͉͇̐̓̀̋͂̆è̷̢̬̲̠͕͙̀̓͊͝r̷̢̬̱̩̀̋̎͗͘͠͝ ̷̺̺̄̍͋m̴̧̼̈̅̈ë̷͓̩͛!" Alastor, now fully transformed, screeches.
Yeah, okay, he's fucked.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Lucifer says hastily, as he's grabbed by the collar and lifted up. "I wasn't in my right mind! I'll take responsibility for this!"
…
…
…
Oh shit.
Lucifer looks at Alastor, eyes wide as a sudden realization comes to him. And it seems Alastor has come to the same conclusion, because he lets Lucifer go, already turning back to his regular self.
"I…can I…?" Lucifer points to the basin.
"Do it."
He doesn't need to hear it twice. Now with both back on the ground, Lucifer places his hand on the water again…
"I'm so sowwwwyyy!" His drunk self hollered, as he shook Alastor, who was sitting on the ground, head hidden in his arms.
"You named a horse after me!" Alastor whined, voiced teary.
"I didn't mean to!"
"I've never been so humiliated before tonight! I hate it here!"
"Noooooooo, don't say that!" Now Lucifer was teary eyed and wailing. "I'll take resp…responsibility!"
"How?!"
"Uh…Uh…I don't know yet, what should I do?"
Alastor groaned.
"I wish I could forget this night."
Lucifer perked up. "You can! We can drink the Lethe waters! See, if I forget and you forget the name of the horse, then no one will know it's called Alastor!"
Lucifer beamed. Alastor finally took his head out of his hands and glared at him.
"Will it work?"
"Lethe never fails, c'mon, it's a deal?"
"...It's a deal."
"Great, let's call my underlings!"
Lucifer pulled Alastor up, then made a summoning gesture, and the goats appeared.
Lucifer takes the hand out of the basin, having seen enough.
"..."
"..."
Lucifer coughs. "Uh, that was…uh. Guess we didn't fuck."
"You named a horse after me," Alastor repeats, still seething slightly.
"I…yeah but, don't you prefer that over the alternative?"
Alastor looks at him, then stands up, face flushed, but not agreeing
Lucifer's eyes grow saucer-wide. Wait…does that mean he really doesn't…?
"This humiliation is eternal."
Ah, that's what he meant.
Also standing up and dusting himself, Lucifer continues. "I think the rest is self explanatory: you gagged your shadow in case it didn't lose its memories. Then we both went back to the palace, and maybe I felt bad and ended up writing that note to myself to compensate you further."
"Yes, that is likely it."
"Well! That was a wild ride, haha! Glad it's over with. Err, about the memories, how about we just keep the deal and don't look or retrieve them?"
"I concur. Now, swear on the Styx."
"Sure, I swear on the Styx to not retrieve my memories at a later date. Anyway, let's celebrate this bullshit being done! C'mon, we need a good breakfast."
*
At the stables, Luci and Catalastor are exchanging stories with the horses.
Nyctaeus, as the oldest of the three horses, recounts…
Verily, the lovebirds argued. Alastor the First, being of feeble mind, seems to not understand the enormous honor that is having a noble steed named after him.
"See? Now we just need to wait for them to fetch the waters from the river and it'll all be fixed!" the shining, brilliant Father of the Underworld said.
Alastor the First made a pathetic noise of disagreement, and moved towards the majestic chariot that is held aloft by the superior pearage that is Nyctaeus. And his two companions, but they are not worthy of mention at this time—
There is a pause as mutiny occurs. After debating and some voting, Nyctaeus charitably allows the younger generation to continue, and so Alastor the Third—who, despite the tragic lapse in judgment when Master was naming him, has turned out to be gentle and sane—continues the narration.
"Wait, what are you doing?" the Master of the Underworld (from hereon called solely Lucifer for simplicity) asked, clearly worried, as he saw the God of Spring (from hereon called solely Alastor for simplicity) attempted to climb onto the chariot, but failed due to his inebriated state, nearly falling back instead.
"I want to leave!" Alastor snapped, and tried to set foot in it again, only to be stopped by Lucifer rushing and latching himself onto his back.
"Nooooo," he wailed. "Don't leave! The problem will be fixed when we forget it! So why are you trying to leave??"
"Why wouldn't I? You think I'm a horse? You…is that all you think of me? That I'm just some lowly beast of burden?"
(The narration pauses for indignant neighs to be heard)
"What? No! No, I don't!"
"Liar! You only like me for my use!"
"No, I don't!"
"Yes, you do!"
"No, I don't!"
"Yes, you do!"
"No, I don't!"
"Yes, you do!"
"No, I don't! I love you!"
"You love me?!"
"Yes!"
Alastor's shadow bounced from floor to ceiling and back again in glee. As for Alastor himself…
"...Fuck you."
"Oh," Lucifer sounded like he was about to cry. "So—"
"Why the fuck didn't you say so before now, instead of letting me suffer assuming my feelings weren't reciprocated??"
"Wait, your feelings? You like me back?"
"Obviously!"
"It's not obvious at all!"
"It would be, if you weren't busy pining for your ex!"
"I'm not pining for her!"
On the wall, the shadow was now ripping its own hair out.
"You are!"
"Am not!
"You are!"
"Am not and I can prove it!"
"How—"
Lucifer took out his wings, using them to propel him up and close the difference between their faces, kissing Alastor.
Only, there was too much momentum in it, and it pushed Alastor back, who tripped and fell into the chariot, Lucifer following.
They could no longer be seen, but after a pause, chuckles came, turning into sweet laughter.
"Can I try again?"
"If you don't, I will."
"That just makes me not want to try."
There's more giddy laughter, but it was quickly replaced by the sound of shuffling and other noises.
On the wall, the shadow blushed and covered its eyes with its hands…only to quickly peek between its fingers.
But soon there came the sound of something bumping into the chariot wall and a muffled noise of discomfort.
"We should continue this in my room," Lucifer said, and a portal could be seen opening from inside the chariot.
"But that's my—oh, who cares? Lead the way."
They left.
Alastor (abomination of cat-like appearance) replies with a tale of his own.
"...Huh, Alastor, they brought over the Lethe waters…"
Tall Bitchy Idiot, sitting on the bed, took the cup in hand and glared at Short Tasty Idiot.
"...Fuck you."
"Sure!"
"Not like that! How dare you only confess and kiss me when we're about to forget everything!? I don't want to forget any of that! You can't give me what I want, only to take it away! You can't play with my feelings like that!"
"What if…what if we don't drink it?"
"We can't! We agreed on it! And if we don't, how will we forget the horse's name?"
The shadow was now on its knees, making a show of crawling towards Tall Bitchy Idiot in supplication. But Tall Bitchy Idiot only glared at it.
"Stay out of this! And you! I forbid you from ever telling me anything that happened tonight, no matter how much I order it! I don't want any reminders of the horse!"
The shadow jumped up and down, switching between bargaining and rage, but Tall Bitchy Idiot was having none of it. Finally, it stomped its feet and gave Tall Bitchy Idiot two middle fingers before dissolving into a regular shadow.
Short Tasty Idiot blinked, trying to use what little intelligence it had past the alcohol fog still affecting him.
"I know! Hold on!"
He ran out of the room and quickly came back with a piece of paper in his hand.
"Look!" he said proudly. "I'll leave a note to myself to take responsibility for telling you my feelings at this time!"
Tall Bitchy Idiot squinted at the words, then beamed.
"Okay then!"
Short Tasty Idiot threw his head back as he drank, but that unbalanced him and he fell back.
"Lucifer?" Tall Bitchy Idiot asked when the other didn't come back up again. "Oh…you're asleep. At least do it on your side of the bed."
He rolled Short Tasty Idiot into a position he was satisfied with, laid down himself and drank, falling asleep after.
Then Luci smugly demanded payment since he won the bet.
*
"Say, Husker, dear," Angel purrs, sidling up to him when he's sure no one else will interrupt.
Husker merely grunts in acknowledgement as he wipes some cups, ignoring Angel's tone and not batting an eyelash at how his curves are accentuated in his current sitting position.
Oh well, Angel hadn't expected anything different by now.
"So, what exactly was in that wine you handed over to the Short Ruler? C'mon, it gotta be special right?"
Husk stops and huffs, but still gives Angel only the barest of glances. "The higher ups usually have more alcohol tolerance, so I made sure to give him some of my special stuff that should knock even someone like him down."
"Oooh, just knock down? Not have anything get…up?" Angel snickers.
Husker frowns. "Of course not. He's drinking with Persephone, who sure as shit wouldn't like that sort of thing. In fact, I would have added something to decrease libido more than alcohol already does, if I had had time."
"Wha?? But gettin' so drunk you get all handsy and wild without thinking is all the fun of it!"
And that, finally, earns him Husker's full attention, and Angel regrets it.
He's used to being judged. Disgust rolls off him as easily as body fluids and pain after Valentino has summoned him to work.
But Husk's gaze isn't judging him. It does worse; it feels like Husk ignores all his defenses and walls, and is looking at his real thoughts and feelings on the matter.
Before Angel can come up with some sexual joke to escape the sudden mortification, Husk frees him from his scrutiny and goes back to focusing on a cup.
"Well, some ain't liking that shit," Husk says levelly. "And I was thinkin' of creating something that completely erased it, if those folks ever needed it."
…Oh.
"But he came too soon, so all I could do was make sure the guy could enjoy the effects and not add any of that sort of spice. Well, hopefully that's enough for that asshole. Not that he'd ever admit to being grateful. Fuck, he probably doesn't even know what being grateful is. But maybe he'll be less pissed off at me for the apple thing."
"Ooh, what's the apple thing?"
"Somethin' I'll only tell you when I want you to be murdered."
"Aw, I knew you loved me, babe."
Notes:The rollercoaster is now over. I hope you guys enjoyed it!
—Hades having a horse called Alastor is a canon mythology fact! This is not something I made up for the fic. Hades had four horses (so one still missing, no important name though) and one was sincerely named Alastor.
The moment I found that out (doing research for chapter 3), I knew I had to add that in. And not as a "oh hey, my horse has the same name as you" coincidence. I have been waiting 26 chapters for this moment.
Of all his horses, Alastor is the only one with the "mark of dis", a reference to Hades' title as Dis Pater (father of wealth). Unlike the other three, Alastor has more access to magic. This is because the steed was born out of the direct connection Hades has with the Underworld.
So hey, looks like Lucifer will get a shot to ride Alastor, one way or another. /s
—Originally, I wanted both Lucifer and Alastor to take much longer to fall. This chapter however had me change things so that Alastor would be in love before it, to avoid readers being as unsure as Lucifer about Alastor's willingness. This chapter was also supposed to happen earlier, and was delayed so that Alastor falling wouldn't seem rushed.
—With the rate this is going, I'm going to end up ending a tag for character death, as Husk will be murdered eventually.