Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Go on now, darling. Give him a piece of your mind,” Rosie encouraged, bringing a young sinner to the entrance of her emporium. “And if he tries to fuck your sister again? Send him my way. Adulterer eyes always taste the best.”

It was as the sinner was expressing her gratitude and heading towards the exit that the door swung open, revealing a face (and voice) familiar to all of Pentagram City. Rosie’s latest client squeaked at the sight of one of Hell’s most ruthless and sadistic Overlords, but Alastor, ever the gentleman, quickly bowed out of the way, allowing the young woman to pass. “Pardon me, madam,” he hummed, watching the jittery sinner skip out with a quick thanks to the softer of the two Overlords. Stepping inside, Alastor turned to face the dazzling Rosie. “Another satisfied sinner, I presume?”

“You doubt me?” the cannibalistic matriarch scoffed with mock offense. “Glad you could make it, darling — take a seat! Tea’s almost up.” She noticed a certain shadow quickly following behind him and fluttered her fingers at it in a light wave. “Hello to you, too, darling.” 

The shadow spun in delight as Alastor proceeded to sit down at their little round table by the window, reserved only for Rosie and her friends. “Hopefully this one didn’t cause you too much trouble before our weekly brunch,” he commented, setting his cane by the window.

Rosie hummed with annoyance as she came carrying a tea tray. “Not really, but I swear to you, people are really lacking common sense nowadays.”

The Radio Demon quickly thanked her as he accepted a cup of tea, watching with a glint of admiration as she moved about with grace. “It keeps you busy, does it not?”

“I suppose,” the older cannibal replied, picking out a box of angel fingers that they both loved to snack on during their get-togethers. “But these sinners nowadays! I’m tellin’ ya!” She began to set up a couple plates for Alastor and herself, using her magic to hurry things up. “Things had been a lot simpler back in my day, let me tell ya; back then, people had to learn to resolve their issues or repeatedly end up with seventy-four stab wounds to the face.”

“And now?” Alastor hummed, one leg crossed over the other.

Rosie laughed softly as she approached with their food. “Now? Now you have hypnotic TV shows telling folks it’s okay to fuck other people’s sisters.”

Alastor sneered in disgust, but refrained from tearing into the Overlord behind it all. Talking about Vox always seemed to taint his mood, and Rosie hated wasting good meat on a spoiled appetite. “Why does this sound like a recurring issue for you?”

“Because it is,” Rosie complained flatly, serving Alastor a plate of angel fingers and a piece of roasted sinner thigh, straight out of the oven. She herself had a heart carved into thin slivers and served with some baked bone marrow. Alastor’s visible delight at the sight of the food definitely brightened Rosie’s mood up by a couple notches. “Anyhow, what’s been going on with you, hon? How’s the princess? Is her little angel treatin’ her right?”

Alastor’s ear twitched as he placed a napkin on his lap, a sign of irritation. “The princess and her paramour are doing just fine, but if you’re looking for a conundrum to shake your workload up a bit, I do happen to have a problem regarding her father.”

Rosie had only just sat down when this pleasant surprise was revealed, causing her to scoot her chair in and straighten her back more hastily than she usually would. “First-hand gossip on the king of Hell himself? Why, don’t mind if I do!” She poured herself a cup of tea in preparation for the conversation ahead. “Just know that I’ll cut your eyes out and eat them for breakfast if you leave out any of the juicy details, alright?”

“I would be insulted if you didn’t,” Alastor laughed in response, cutting into his food. He seemed to mull over the issue in his mind as he took a bite, as though wondering where to start. A good sign for Rosie, undoubtedly; she loved the more tangled issues, especially if a bit of bloodshed was involved. 

After finishing his bite, Alastor began with a simple, “Lucifer has been acting oddly these past few weeks.”

“Odd? Odd how?” she inquired, wondering what had their monarch in an odd state. It would have no effect on his kingdom, she was sure of it, but it was still amusing nonetheless.

Alastor sipped his tea thoughtfully. “He’s adopted a set of strange behaviors that has me suspecting that he may be trying to get rid of me somehow.”

“Very vague, Alastor,” Rosie criticized. “Give me an example. What has he done recently that stood out to you?”

The Radio Demon didn’t need to think on it for too long.“I was allowed a taste of his blood.”

Rosie’s brow flew to her hairline. “Were you now? How did you manage to pull that off?”

“That’s the issue, Rosie,” Alastor huffed. “I didn’t . In fact, if anything, I was trying to drive him away by detailing the affliction we cannibals must bear.”

He was urged to continue by another nod from his friend. “Our eternal hunger.”

“Indeed,” the Radio Demon hummed, his tea left forgotten for the most part. “We were discussing — well, it was quite one-sided — Cannibal Town’s depletion of angel meat. Because angel blood is the only substance strong enough to temporarily sate our starvation, I openly lamented the loss. Admittedly, I may have given the subject a bit of flourish when discussing my craving for ichor, but I couldn’t resist the chance to watch him squirm.”

A teasing smile found its way across Rosie’s lips. “Oh, I’d expect nothing less from my Alastor,” she giggled, easily picturing the interaction. She could see Radio Demon standing there, black sclera topped with red dials, his neck snapped, his fangs jagged and hungry, shadows dancing along the walls, a voice steeped in white noise expressing a deep hunger for angel blood to the only seraph in Hell. Such an image made Rosie want to pinch Alastor’s cheek for being so cute. “Well, don’t leave me hangin’! Did he get that disgusted look on his face? Oh, that would be hilarious.” 

A curt “ha!” left Alastor’s lips as he recalled the moment fondly. “He most certainly did. Almost seemed as though he were about to spill his lunch, too.” His smile faded somewhat as that look of confusion returned. “Next I saw him, though, he approached me out on the balcony. He didn’t even greet me before he — if you would believe it — offered to let me sample his blood. He even said he wanted nothing in return.”

Rosie placed a hand on her heart, admittedly rather jealous that such an opportunity had just been handed to him. “Alastor, honey, please don’t tell me you passed him up on that offer.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to refuse even if I wanted to,” Alastor sighed, taking one of the fingers on his plate and popping it into his mouth, where it was shredded to pieces in seconds. “I was wary, wondering if this was some plot to trap me in a deal or leave me pliant for an oncoming attack. However, I consider myself more than capable of taking on these challenges given my learned experience from prior mistakes, and so I decided to take the plunge.” A smirk formed. “Quite literally. I hardly think he was expecting me to plunge my teeth into his neck.”

Rosie would have cackled in delight if not for her rampant desire to know more. “And? How was it?”

Alastor closed his eyes and let out a wistful sigh. “Even the blood of Hell’s strongest Overlords could not compare.”

“Honey.”

“It was thick, like syrup, and tasted of rich red wine.”

“Oh, honey .”

The red cannibal hummed in delight. “With notes of apple.”

Rosie placed a hand to her mouth and bowed her head. “Oh, honey, I’m so jealous.”

“Well, I might be able to snag you a sample, because the little king offered to let me have some again if I ‘need it’,” Alastor replied, much to Rosie’s shock.

“And he says he wants nothing in return?” she asked incredulously. “That sounds awfully generous of him.”

A grimace crossed the other sinner’s face. “It would seem so. Perhaps he was hoping I would develop some sort of dependency on his blood and become subservient to him.”

“My Alastor? Never.”

“Exactly,” agreed the Radio Demon with a pleased chuckle, but it soon turned bitter with frustration. “I’m straining my mind to understand why a king such as he would be so unthinking with his blood.” He sneered, eyeing his teacup with a hint of disgust towards the memory. “Why, I daresay he enjoyed the experience of being fed from.”

Rosie’s thoughts came to a screeching halt. “He what?”

Alastor scoffed, rolling his eyes as he thought back to the moment in question. “He encouraged me to drink my fill, asking if I’d had enough even after I’d pulled away. I almost felt as though he were treating me like a child.”

The older Overlord pursed her lips, suspicion creeping in. “And did he… do anything else that night?” his friend asked carefully.

Alastor considered the question for a moment. “He revealed a little later that he started listening to my broadcasts; the ones without all the screaming.” He narrowed his eyes. “And that he finds my voice soothing .” He scoffed and took another sip of tea. “Just another one of his odd behaviors he’s been engaging in.”

“Ah. I see.” Rosie finished her tea and poured herself a second cup in preparation for the conversation ahead. “That’s definitely strange, my friend. Why don’t you tell me more about these ‘odd behaviors’? When did they begin?”

Alastor nodded once and moved forward, his words curled with bitterness. “Well, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you about the ‘Adam’ incident,” he huffed, a sneer plastered across his visage. His shadow hissed at the very mention of the angel.

One leg crossing over the other, Rosie just offered a swift hum. “So this was after he healed you, then? Understandable, if you ask me. It’s so rare to see you in such a vulnerable state.”

“It is,” Alastor grumbled after indulging in another finger. “The only one who has seen me in such a way was you, and now I fear he may look upon me as though I were a helpless kitten.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh. “I understand that the holy energy would have killed me in the end, but had I known it would lead to Lucifer’s odd behaviors, I would have taken my chances.”

“And the odd behaviors would be…?”

Alastor was swift to apologize, reuniting with his tea before it could get too cold. “So very sorry, my dear Rosie. Let me get on with it.” He paused for a quick sip before beginning his list of Lucifer’s lesser sins. “I began to notice he was becoming more tolerant of my attempts to humiliate him. Not invulnerable, of course, and he still likes to hurl his own insults my way, but there are times when he laughs at my jabs, as though they’re inside jokes. I find myself having to really try to get under his skin, something that hadn’t been a factor before.”

“Well, it’s a game to you, isn’t it?” Rosie offered as a defense. “Perhaps he’s recognized it and is playing along?”

The Radio Demon hummed. “I suppose. But it leaves me wondering if the compliments he gives me are actually back-handed insults.”

Rosie perked up. “Compliments?”

“Ah, yes, the compliments. I get ahead of myself,” Alastor murmured quickly. “He’s begun complimenting me, if you can believe it. Now, at first, it was relatively understandable; he thanked me for defending his daughter and the hotel, even if I was nearly slain in the process. I thought it strange to receive gratitude from him, but he was right in doing so. Then, he complimented my power, telling me how I’m quite an intimidating force, despite how uneven his strength is compared to mine.”

Rosie hummed, not saying anything. It seemed that someone else had figured out that the clearest way into the Radio Demon’s good graces was through his ego. Smart.

“It soon got out of hand,” Alastor continued. “Next thing I know, he’s complimenting the way I dress, my cane, my eloquence, my prowess on the piano, the way I dance—”

Black eyes widened in surprise. “He saw you dance?”

Alastor growled, crossing his arms. “It was a mingling event for the new sinners in the hotel. I provided the music through one of my radios, and he offered to dance with me.”

Rosie didn’t know what to say. “And… you took him up on that offer?”

“Tch. Of course I did,” the Radio Demon replied, as though the answer was obvious. “I was hoping it would be a battle to take the lead — to show who would be the dominant partner in such an entanglement. He put up a valiant effort to stay in control, I’ll admit, but I had him dipped by the end of the dance.”

Keeping her face straight was just about the hardest task Rosie had encountered in the past century. Oh, Alastor, bless his heart.

The expression on Alastor’s face neared a snarl. “The way he looked up at me with soft eyes and a gentle smile. Absolutely pathetic. I wonder what he was planning.”

Oh, someone had it bad.  

She could see Alastor’s shadow facepalming on the wall. Okay, so she wasn’t the only one who was having to deal with this. 

“So yes, he had plenty of compliments,” the stag sighed. “From my antlers to my way of dress to my power to even my height; what does it all mean?”

And he had a type , too. 

“And now he’s trying to win me over with silly little treats. He always knocks on my door to offer me pancakes in the morning, he offered to make me a new cane when I had to get mine replaced, and he always has a cup of coffee ready for me when I come downstairs in the morning; that sort of thing.”

They were entering dangerously close to “simp” levels of hopeless romanticism. A part of Rosie did feel a little bad for the king, who, from what she’d heard, was endlessly devoted to his wife. Now he begged for the gaze of a demon who couldn’t return such affections.

Alastor let out a sigh, closing his eyes. “I reject them all, of course. I’m not an idiot… except for the duck. I felt like the sap would cry if I didn’t accept it, and while I always enjoy my meat well-salted, I wasn’t in the mood to pity the man.”

“A duck? Do you have it?” Rosie asked, needing to see it to believe it.

Alastor huffed. “Not on my person, but—” He looked away in subtle embarrassment as he waved a hand and summoned a small red rubber duck. “—this is it.”

Rosie picked up the rubber duck and observed it. It was the same shade of red as Alastor’s hair, with the tips of its wings and tail painted black. It had a little monocle on one eye and had a miniature version of the Radio Demon’s staff physically under a wing, a sign that the duck was made from scratch instead of just being a painted-over yellow duck. The beak was lifted into a sharp-toothed grin, the eyes were black with red dials, and the antlers resembled Alastor’s exactly.

The cannibal matriarch was stunned — this wasn’t a toy that you paint over to waste an hour or so; this was a handcrafted gift made just for the Radio Demon, its value being measured only by the heart.

“This… has a lot of care put into it,” was all she said.

Alastor raised a brow at the duck, as if only now considering the work that had been out into it. “I suppose so,” he murmured, his voice somewhat dismissive. “It’s still a symbol of a pathetic king looking to win my favor and keep me on a leash. That must be it. All he seems to want to do lately is be near me.”

By this point, Rosie wasn’t even surprised by Alastor’s cluelessness. “Is that so?”

A huff of frustration. “Very much so, I’m afraid,” he growled. “Whenever the princess holds a meeting, he insists on sitting by me on the couch. He joins me at the bar, on the balcony, during breakfast; I swear he had some influence on the others, because the room seems to clear whenever he tries to start a conversation with me! Angel and Charlie even seem to be making excuses to bring us together; I wonder what he told them.”

As a close friend and colleague, Rosie loved Alastor with all her heart, but she swore that if he jumped more than five feet in the air, his sheer density would cause a crater to form in the ground.

Rosie considered what the best way to move forward would be. “Now, Alastor, is there anything that you noticed that may explain his behavior?”

“You don’t think I’ve pondered it endlessly already?” Alastor scoffed, but still seemed to take a moment to consider the question, thinking back on his memories of the short king.

“Lucifer Morningstar is an odd creature,” he said at last. “Too emotional. I suspect he’s been having some sort of emotional crisis as of late. I’d say the quirks of his behavior didn’t start until the day of his wedding anniversary.” He let out a small sigh. “I… had a moment of weakness that day.”

Rosie blinked in surprise. She hadn’t heard of this “moment of weakness”, and Alastor told her almost everything he had issues with. “What do you mean?”

A look of hesitation crossed the younger cannibal’s face. He finished his tea and poured himself another cup before continuing. “Charlie couldn’t find her father, and so to ease her worries (and to show I was the superior mentor), I joined the search.” There was a pause, and his expression showed deep contemplation. “I found him on the roof, standing in the pouring rain, overlooking the pentagram.”

Rosie frowned and leaned back in her seat, enjoying a piece of the sinner heart she’d chopped up for herself as she allowed Alastor to tell the tale.

“I approached with my umbrella and stood beside him, informing him that his daughter was searching for him,” Alastor continued. “He lamented the loss of his wife, as though she were dead and not simply separated from him. He expressed his disappointment in himself for not being a better father, and layered within it was an unspoken hatred for his own being.”

Curious, Rosie asked, “And did you tease him for it? A prime opportunity if you ask me.”

Alastor chuckled in response, but shook his head in the end. “I highly doubted he would have retaliated if I did, but… there was something about his voice that gave me pause. It was hollow; empty in a way I find difficult to describe. It rang with a stark bleakness I’ve rarely ever heard.” His smile was now more of a grimace. “I felt like needling him at his lowest would have been… beneath me. After all, what fun is it if he’s already broken? So I simply stood by silently and listened as he remembered her. It was… painfully pitiful, but I lent an ear nonetheless until he was finished.”

“And what did you two do after?” Rosie pressed softly.

“He… gave me an odd look,” Alastor answered. “One filled with a self-loathing unbefitting of a man of his station. ‘You must think I’m pretty pathetic, right?’ he asked me. And I don’t believe I could be faulted for assuming that not all of the water running down his face was from the rain.”

Rosie tapped her teacup with a sharp nail idly. She didn’t know how she would have answered the question herself, if she were to be honest. “And… what did you say?”

Alastor was quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I didn’t answer his question, for I knew he wouldn’t accept it no matter what I gave. So, I asked him, ‘All these years and you still wear your wedding band. Tell me, do you think she does the same?’”

The matriarch remained silent, urging him to continue with a lifted chin. 

Alastor continued with his story. “He remained silent, so I told him, ‘If you can’t give me a clear answer to that question, then perhaps you should save yourself the trouble and devote all that angelic light and love to those who care enough to give you the time of day.’ I reminded him that Charlie, the one he was lamenting not being a proper father for, was looking for him, and then I… gave him my umbrella and left.”

‘ There it is, ’ Rosie thought to herself. To find a crack in that wall of apathy and sadism was extremely rare, but when it occurred, it always felt special, and that’s because it was. It always made one want to chase it down, as fruitless an endeavor as it was. It seemed their darling king, still with so much love to give, had become a victim caught in that endless chase.

“Anyway, his depressive mood continued for another week or so. He had quite a few nights spent on the roof, but I only spoke to him in that initial instance,” Alastor sighed, finishing up his story. “However, I would be foolish not to notice how he left that sorry state with his wedding ring absent from his finger.”

It was always beautiful when a person with an absent/deceased partner realized that they were finally ready to move on. It was a big step for Lucifer for sure, and had he been in the emporium, Rosie would have given him a big hug and a box of glazed eyes as a gift. Oh, but of course, someone as mighty as the king of Hell wouldn’t be so simple. The romance of royalty never was. They always wanted what they couldn’t have.

“So, Rosie.” Alastor straightened himself in his seat, taking his teacup and indulging in a sip. “Now that you’ve heard the tale, I come to you for advice on what to do with our little serpentine king. Please, enlighten me: why is Lucifer Morningstar acting so strangely around me?”

Rosie took a deep breath and set her cup on its saucer. “How’s the tea, darling?” she asked, hands folded on her lap.

Alastor blinked once, then twice. “Why, it’s lovely, as per usual.”

Rosie smiled sweetly. “Good. Not too bitter?”

“Not at all.”

“And how’re the fingers, dear? They taste alright?”

“They’re simply delightful.”

“Is your chair nice and comfortable?”

“The comfiest.”

“You’re all relaxed?”

“I’ve never felt so at home.”

“Lucifer is in love with you.”

Alastor spat out the tea he’d been drinking, which was quickly followed by a round of coughing so harsh you would think he was actively dying.

When he finally looked up, Alastor’s pinprick pupils had taken on the shape of radio dials, flitting back and forth rapidly in alarm. “He’s what? ”

Rosie gave her friend an amused smile. “Our darling little king is in love with you!”

Although his smile remained the same, Alastor’s eyes read of panic. His shadow almost seemed nervous as it looked between Rosie and its master. “No… surely you must be mistaken!” 

She understood that he was having a hard time, but she did feel a pang of annoyance at his doubt. “Alastor, honey, when have I ever been wrong on this sort of thing?”

“I know, I know, but—” The radiostatic spiked in time with his groan. “I always thought his tastes were solely women! At least, that’s what our interactions led me to believe.”

“Honey, there is nothing heterosexual about  your interactions with him.”

“I see that now, in hindsight,” muttered the Radio Demon, his pupils returning to normal. “Lucifer Morningstar, possessing an infatuation for me , of all demons.” He paused, brow furrowing, before offering Rosie another bewildered look. “Are you sure ?”

Rosie let out a dainty little sigh. “Alastor, I’m positive. Our lovely king has fallen in love with you.” She sipped her tea. “Even with that awful haircut you’ve got there.”

“Well, I just think that—” Alastor paused, glared at Rosie with narrowed eyes, and then got back on track “—I just think that he doesn’t quite understand what he’s desiring.”

“Does anyone, when it comes to love?”

Alastor scoffed. “That’s the thing,” he sneered. “I wouldn’t know.”

Rosie hummed pleasantly. “Yes, you’ve always been an arrow in the quiver, haven’t you?”

The Radio Demon stiffened, tossing Rosie an annoyed glare. “ Thank you for reminding me.” 

The cannibal queen didn’t really know who had broken down what “ace” and “arrow” meant to Alastor whenever she used those analogies, but she sure knew when it had happened. Alastor had been rather upset that day, so much so that he’d actually canceled their brunch, something he rarely ever did. They never actually broached the issue before, but from the way the Alastor seemed to just roll his eyes at her repeated teasing, it appeared he’d gotten over it fairly quickly.

Though, she didn’t miss how his shadow hissed at her this time around.

After finishing another bite of his food, Alastor continued. “If it’s matters of the heart that he wants, it’s something I cannot assist him with. It’s simply not in my nature.” The corners of his smile dipped some, and yet a stiff laugh still left him. “And if it’s simply lust, then he’ll once again be disenchanted by me, because I ca— won’t give him that, either.”

Rosie’s lips drew into a pout. “Well then, I suppose all we can do is hope that Lucifer can handle rejection.”

Radiostatic pulsed in time with Alastor’s cackles, his grin only growing. “Rejection? Are you mad? I’m not going to reject him! This is the most powerful demon in all of Hell! He sat at the foot of God’s throne, and now he is casting his pathetically smitten gaze upon me ! Why, I couldn’t have dreamed of a better arrangement for me!”

A firm frown crossed Rosie’s lips. “Honey, I highly doubt it.”

“Why not?” the Radio Demon inquired, his voice taking on a rather manic edge. “It’s Lucifer , the most oblivious demon inside the pentagram. So what if I can’t offer the one thing he desires from me? With all that power on the line? I can easily fake it!”

Rosie’s eyes widened, her lips pulling back into a sneer and nearing a snarl. Very rarely did she ever become genuinely invested in the people she advised, but just the very thought of Alastor stringing along their emotionally vulnerable and clearly depressed king just for more power set her nerves alight. 

What was even worse, though, was the knowledge that Alastor was nearing his limit. She knew this because she knew Alastor better than his own mother ever did, a sentiment that would have the deer’s claws around her throat if she ever shared it. 

Alastor had spent so much time pretending that he wasn’t being damaged by his hunger for power — both when defending the hotel and putting himself on a leash — that he was becoming unrecognizable compared to the demon that had appeared in her domain nearly a century ago. By faking a relationship — faking who he is — he was going to destroy himself.

Rosie wasn't about to let him do that to himself. 

“No, you will not !”

Alastor jumped in his seat in a rare show of surprise. “Rosie?” His voice was prickled with indignation at the aggression; the table’s tableware had clattered with Rosie’s sudden fist on the table, and the matriarch realized that she had been too passionate with her denial. Friends or not, no Overlord would be accepting of such behavior.

Rosie took in a deep breath and calmed herself, deciding to phrase everything in a way that someone like Alastor would be able to understand.

“Alastor, sweetie,” she began sweetly, noticing how the shadow on the wall seemed almost worried. “Answer me this: what do you think would happen if the king of Hell (who has only just moved on from his marriage of many millennia with a wife he loves so deeply) found out a Sinner he’s only known for a year is faking being in a relationship with him in order to manipulate him for more power.”

Alastor barked out a laugh. “Why, he would sob! To break the king’s heart in such a way would be an honor. He would surely crumble.”

“Aaaaand?” Rosie urged in a sing-song voice.

There was a pause as Alastor’s triumphant tone lessened greatly. “And… I would become a stain on the floor.”

Rosie clapped her hands as if to say “good job!” “Exactly. Not very ideal, now is it?” She giggled at Alastor’s grumbling response before lacing her fingers together on the table. “Alastor, you are one of the most devious manipulators I have ever met,” she praised. “You can outsmart the best of them, but… it’s not easy faking something you’ve never experienced, like romantic attraction.”

Alastor said nothing and looked away, as if embarrassed, something Rosie took note of and stored away in the back of her mind. “I was able to pull off faking parental love with Charlie,” he mentioned in a weak and unconvincing rebuttal.

“But Charlie is…?” 

The Radio Demon sighed. “She’s incredibly naive.”

“That she is,” Rosie hummed, deciding not to bring up how Alastor’s wish to guide the young princess had a personal touch to it.

“Lucifer is a being of light and love,” she continued. “I’m sure he would be able to tell you were pretending.”

“You make it sound like an impossibility, Rosie! For that much power, I can easily put up such a front!” Alastor growled, his body growing tenser by the second. “I just have to…” He laughed. It was stilted and jerky and undeniably fake. “I mean, it’s an emotion as useless as love! It shouldn’t be that hard!”

His friend shook her head firmly. “Listen, Alastor, you don’t want to push yoursel—”

“ What do you know about what I do or do not want? ” 

Rosie jumped a bit at the sudden snap, further put off by the wave of white noise that met her ears. She had to yank her hand back to avoid the snap of the shadow’s teeth at her fingers. The Radio Demon’s eyes had flicked black to red dials on black sclera, his grin so tight that she was sure it must have been an agonizing experience. Any humor that she once found in this conversation had disappeared entirely as she realized that Alastor, at that very moment, was not okay. 

Alastor seemed to realize he’d lost his temper, and so that laugh returned, somehow even stiffer and faker than before. “What I want, my dear, is the power that Lucifer holds. And if it so happens that I have to…” His eye twitched and his laugh sharpened. “Then I am more than willing to throw my comforts aside. There’s no need to dwell on why the king wants companionship with me of all demons. If this is what it takes for even a modicum of the power he holds, I’ll be happy to accommodate! More than happy, in fact! I mean, it’s not as though I haven’t already debased myself for power — this is nothing . All I have to do is pretend I'm in love with Lucifer Morningstar and not think about… why .”

Rosie’s brow knitted as she slowly asked, “Why what, Alastor?”

“Why?” He looked as though he were in physical pain. “Everything was going so well! I was happy with our bitter relationship! I don’t completely hate his presence; I even found our spats to be quite fun! To be able to manipulate and enrage a creature who could so easily crush me under their thumb is quite thrilling, even! So… why? ” He swallowed. “Why don’t people just understand that I… I can’t ?”

Rosie finally understood now. In fact, she’d seen this exact situation with Alastor before.  It wasn’t the first time he had been completely content with a relationship, only for the man on the other end to move forward with a request for more. Alastor had reacted so poorly to that last incident that it ended a friendship of a couple decades. Rosie had never seen him in a more manic state in the following weeks.

(Alastor would never admit to wishing he could go back and change what he’d said and done.)

Now it was happening again, but unlike last time, Alastor couldn’t just abandon the hotel and force himself to avoid those thoughts of self-loathing. 

“Love is like that, Alastor,” Rosie sighed at last, stirring her tea idly. “It latches onto people, even if we know it’s won’t work out.”

Alastor’s smile somehow tightened further, and she wondered how his lips weren’t tearing at being strung so taut. “But I don’t want this!”

“And no one’s forcing you to do anything, Alastor!” Rosie assured him, trying to calm the rigid Radio Demon as the cracking of growing antlers could be heard. It did the trick, but Alastor kept his head down, a distinct look of shame present over his features; a shame brought on by a stigma from his time period, one that would ruthlessly debase him because he couldn’t form romantic connections. Rosie didn’t understand until that very moment, but Alastor hadn’t taken the discovery of key parts of his identity very well. He came from a time period where love was so overblown that the idea of even getting to the age of twenty-five without a partner was considered taboo. To hear about the beauty of love and the light it would bring his soul for over a century, waiting to come across the right person to be that piece of the puzzle to complete him and make him feel ways only his mother had, only to realize that it was never even possible for him to begin with; Rosie didn’t envy Alastor in the slightest. 

“Darling, I—”

Alastor laughed again, this one freely manic. “You know, Rosie, I would have greatly preferred if you’d just told me he was trying to kill me,” he giggled, looking back up at her with whirling red dials and teeth clenched so tightly that it was a wonder how they didn't shatter. “At least that’s something I know! It may not be something I can handle , but at least I can navigate it!” 

“Alastor…”

He forced another laugh, his ears pinning back and his antlers sprouting from his head at a rapid rate. His shadow took on a more monstrous form, reflecting a quickly fracturing mental state. “It figures this would happen. I’ve torn my way to the top, slaughtered Overlords and trapped thousands of souls for my radio broadcasts, and now Lucifer Morningstar, the devil himself , is handing me his power on a silver platter, and all he asks for is the one thing I can’t give! ”

“ Alastor. ”

His next laugh was far more deranged, the feedback of the radio growing to a fever pitch as the dial pupils spun uncontrollably. “I mean, I’ve always been perfectly fine with everyone thinking I’m a monster — because I am — but the king of Hell… I can imagine the disgust when he finds out that this is not of my own design; that I’m just defective, that there’s something WRONG with me!”

“ ALASTOR! ”

Rosie’s deafening roar shook the tables around them and sent a shiver down the spines of anyone who just happened to hear it, but more importantly, it snapped Alastor out of his spiral. He stared at Rosie in shock, having rarely ever seen her more demonic traits as an Overlord put on display. Even his shadow shrunk away at the sight, a frown present on its face.

Rosie was quick to shrink her teeth back to normal size and snap her bones back into place, closing her eyes and letting out a curt sigh. She then lifted her gaze to look the Radio Demon in the eye, but he had turned his head away. “Alastor, look at me,” she ordered, her words firm and uncompromising.

Alastor’s ears, still pinned back, twitched in response, but he kept his head down. 

Rosie’s eyes narrowed. She did not like being ignored. “Alastor. Look. At. Me .” 

With a wince, Alastor forced himself to meet her eyes. The dials were still spinning, though their tempo had decreased significantly. The antlers were still thrice as large as they usually were, but thankfully she had stopped him before his body had gotten any larger. The radio was still blaring, but Rosie was able to speak past it and directly to her friend.

“Nothing about your feelings is ‘wrong’,” she assured him, her voice soft, but unwavering. “The only thing that could ever be considered ‘wrong’ with you is that you’re a manipulative, sadistic sociopath who kills and eats people.” She offered a smile. “And if I remember correctly, you’re damn proud of that.”

The chuckle that left Alastor was still stilted, but it was far more genuine. 

“Alastor, what you feel is the same as Charlie being in love with a woman, or Lucifer swinging both ways; what you feel is normal ,” Rosie continued. 

“What I feel would have been considered a mental illness back in my time,” Alastor scoffed.

She gave him an incredulous look. “So? What’s the issue? That’s never stopped you before! You bask in how fucked up you are, darling.” She pointed to their half-finished meal. “We are cannibals , Alastor. And if everyone at the hotel is able to accept that as a part of you, then they're not going to judge you for something you can’t control.”

Alastor was silent, but had begun running his clawed thumb over his cheek in contemplation, no doubt reminding himself of a time where he was ostracized for something else he had been unable to control. By now, most of his more monstrous features had receded, a sign that his friend was on the right path.

Rosie decided it was best that she continue. “Now, I know you want power, but you’ve hurt yourself so much already for it. You lost your freedom for it; you nearly died for it. You’re going to destroy yourself if you keep pretending like you’re someone you’re not.” She took a second to let it all sink in, before going for her final message. “It’s best that you sit this one out for once. I know you’ll scheme your way to that power somehow, but I think it’s time you take care of your own needs first, alright?”

Alastor was silent, staring at his food. Even his shadow didn’t give anything away, taking in that same empty expression.

Rosie frowned. “Alastor? Speak to me, hon. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I don’t hate the idea.”

Rosie blinked once, then twice, before raising a brow. “Pardon?”

By now, Alastor’s demonic features had completely disappeared, leaving him with a deep look of contemplation. He himself seemed to be questioning what he was even talking about, but he continued nonetheless.  “I mean… now that I know what his intentions are, his actions aren’t as annoying or irritating as I first made them out to be.”

Rosie narrowed her gaze suspiciously. “Alastor…” 

“I’m being serious,” Alastor promised, and for the most part, he seemed like he was being truthful. His words were spoken slowly and with hesitance, something that was very unlike the Radio Demon. It was as though he was discovering his own feelings on the subject as he told them. “I actually somewhat enjoy the attention, and it’s not like he has ended our verbal spats. He still riles me up and irritates me and makes me want to choke the life out of him; it’s something I can’t say about anyone else, and I actually find it to be quite fun.”

A smile graced Rosie’s lips, though she was still skeptical. “Is that so?” 

“Quite.” Alastor seemed to regain his appetite, chewing on another finger thoughtfully. “He also has an ear for music; I’ve never been much for the fiddle, but I wouldn’t mind attempting a duet with him at some point.” The jagged edges of his grin seemed to soften some. “And he’s quite funny; not intentionally, of course. It's fairly amusing to see him flounder all his social interactions. I quite like the idea of being by his side to take over and control his meetings with other powerful individuals; I would be doing him a favor by not allowing him to humiliate himself.” His shadow chittered with amusement at his side.

Rosie decided not to interject, simply watching with fond eyes.

He sipped his tea in consideration. “I would also be allowed the opportunity to clean up his sorry state. Crying on the floor and ripping one’s own feathers out in a spiral of depression and self-hatred is not befitting a demon of his station. I could get him to sleep for once instead of wandering around the hotel at odd hours. And getting those wings groomed would allow him to at least look like a proper king.”

There was a period of silence where Alastor seemed to be searching for a stray thought, grasping at its fringes in order to properly process it. “Just as well…” He chuckled softly, as if not quite believing his own thoughts. “I’m used to lesser demons desiring me solely for my power, but Lucifer could undoubtedly end my existence with a single snap. I don’t have anything Lucifer could want. If it’s truly just my presence he desires — the return of a smile or the occasional compliment — then, I won’t lie, it’s quite… flattering.”

Alastor looked away, but he wasn’t able to hide the way the radio’s feedback dropped down to a soft, pleasant hum. “It feels… nice , even.”

Rosie’s hands were clasped together in delight. Alastor seemed much more at ease than he had when he’d first come in. Now, it was finally time to do her part and offer up her wisdom to this lost sinner. “Alastor, I’m going to give you some advice that I don’t think I’ve ever dreamed I’d be telling you.” Alastor made a small noise of interest, a gentle nudge for her to continue. “This isn’t something you can scheme and manipulate your way through.” This, of course, earned her a lightly offended look. “Hold off until I finish, darling. You’re very bright and oh so devious, but pretending to love someone for the rest of eternity, especially someone as openly affectionate as Lucifer Morningstar, isn’t something you’re equipped for. You’d be locking yourself into something pretty serious. And if he found out you were making a fool of him all that time? I doubt I’d ever see you again.” Alastor’s ears were pinned back in an unconscious show of irritation, but he acknowledged Rosie’s words as true with a nod. “So, I think that it would be best if you and Lucifer just… talked about it. Honestly .”

There was a small pause of silence as Alastor took in the words, and then he scoffed. “You make it sound easy.”

“You could always bring him back here,” Rosie suggested, though as more of a joke than not. “I’d be happy to do a bit of mediating.”

Alastor hummed in brief consideration. “As amusing as it would be to bring him into a town full of people who want to consume him, I think it best that he and I handle it alone.”

A dramatic sigh left the first cannibal Overlord. “A shame. An angel in Cannibal Town? Oh, it would have been such a delight to watch him squirm.” She winked before popping an angel finger into her mouth. 

“Oh, I’ll see if I can’t convince him to come for tea. I would hope you’d do your best to make him writhe with discomfort,” he chuckled in amusement. It quickly morphed into a laugh, one that was far more relaxed and genuine than the ones before. “You know, Rosie, with how well you handle the problems of others, I’m fairly certain half of Hell would be redeemed if only you partnered with Charlie and her hotel.”

Rosie gagged in response, a look of disgust crossing her visage. “Here I am, helping you to accept yourself, and you dare to insult me?” she scoffed with mock outrage. 

Alastor put a hand to his chest in faux remorse. “My apologies, Rosie. I didn’t mean to offend you by implying you could ever be a force for good.”

They shared a laugh before Alastor decided it was time to go. “I thank you for your advice once more, Rosie,” he began, rising from his seat, “but I believe it’s time that I head back to the hotel. I’ve taken up quite a bit of your time already with my drama.”

Rosie quickly checked her clock to show that they still had another half hour left before they usually ended their brunch, but she wasn’t going to fault Alastor for needing some time to stroll the streets of the Pride Ring for a good think. “You sure you don’t want me to send you back with a bottle of bloodwine as a good luck gift?”

Alastor was already picking up his plate of half-finished meat when he dismissed her offer with a wave of his hand. “Oh, you’ve already done so much for me.” Like a snake, Alastor unhinged his jaw and slid all the contents of the plate into his impossibly wide mouth. He chewed a couple times, swallowed, and daintily dabbed at his bloodied mouth with a napkin. “If anything, I should be treating you . Shall I cook for you sometime?”

“Oh, I’d never say ‘no’ to your cooking,” Rosie hummed, getting up from her chair as well. “Tell you what: you tell me all the juicy details of your little talk with the king over a couple bowls of gumbo and we’ll call it even. M’kay?”

“Of course, my dear,” Alastor agreed, allowing himself to be pulled into a tight hug and a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see if I can’t siphon a bit of his blood to drink along with it.” 

As soon as she pulled away, his cane was in his hand and his smile was just as wide and cheerful as it had been when he’d stepped in. “You’ve been as wonderful as ever, Rosie. I shall see you next week,” he announced, turning towards the door. He took a single step before freezing, his shadow seemingly reminding him something. He quickly turned on his heel. “Ah, I almost forgot.” 

Alastor reached forward and picked up the small red rubber duck that had been made for him, tucking it in an inner pocket of his coat. He glanced up to see Rosie, her hands on her heart and a big smile on her face. He narrowed his eyes. “Not a word.”

“I didn’t see nothin’,” Rosie replied, closing her eyes and looking away. A smirk still slipped across her lips as she cracked open an eye to look at Alastor teasingly. “Just like I never saw that tail of yours.”

Oh, the glare that earned her, and the hiss of his shadow was the cherry on top. “And still, no one will ever believe you,” he scoffed, before heading towards the door. 

Rosie just watched her friend exit the emporium, a fond look gracing her features. She could still remember finding him like it was yesterday, lost and panicked on the streets of Cannibal Town. Now he was a powerful Overlord potentially on the arm of the king of Hell himself. 

She just hoped Lucifer knew what he was in for.

Chapter Text

…

..

.

“Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly.”

A gentle melody could be heard from the radio atop the kitchen counter. Framed with polished mahogany, the crooning of a young woman was drawn from its center. It was lightly filmed over with static, but for its time, it was as close as one could get to perfectly capturing the majesty of the singer’s voice. What was lost in the audible fuzz was more than made up for in the emotion present in every note. 

“I gotta love one man ‘til I die.”

Alastor stuck his head into the room, a gentle smile present on his face as he watched his mother sway to the music. The song in question was one he wasn’t exactly a fan of (too many love songs on the radio, if you ask him), but he couldn’t help but admire the sight of his mother losing herself in the freeing emotions of a finely-composed tune.

“Can’t help lovin’ dat man of mine.”

Alastor found himself locking eyes with her, only receiving a split second of warning before he was yanked from the doorway and brought into a slow dance with his petite mom. She let out a happy sigh, allowing him to lead her through the winding melody with slow steps.

“I’ve heard this song hundreds of times,” she murmured softly, eyes closed and cheek pressed to her son’s chest, “but I never get tired of it. Ain’t that somethin’?”

Alastor chuckled softly, guiding his beloved mother in a slow waltz around the kitchen. “It certainly is,” he replied, having tired of the song long ago. He knew he had contributed at least a hundred of those countless listens in the past few years, allowing the song to play on his radio show at her request. 

(He would play the song a thousand times more should she only ask.)

“One day,” she hummed, looking up at her darling boy with an adoring smile, “you’re goin’ to find the woman who will love you and cherish you for the rest of your life. You haven’t found her yet… but when you do, she’ll make you so happy.” She pulled away from his chest, but kept in his arms. “That’s what I want for you, Al; to find that someone who will make you happy.” Her face fell a fraction. “You’re gonna treat her right, understand?”

Alastor’s smile tightened. “I wouldn’t dare otherwise,” he assured her, leading to a soft embrace. The hug was warm, but he could feel an uncertainty buzzing in his chest; one that had existed even before his father’s wicked nature turned its head and he had to be removed from his mother’s side.

That magical woman his mother was describing was right in front of him, looking up at him with a love more unconditional than even God’s. He understood that she wouldn’t be around forever, but he couldn’t think of filling that hole with anyone else once she passed. He simply had no desire to. Perhaps things would change later down the line, as he told himself constantly in his younger years, but now that he was a fully grown adult, he was quite certain of how he felt. 

“About that…”

“Hmm?” She didn’t pull away, her eyes closed as she gently pressed to know her son’s concerns.

Alastor decided it was best to be truthful. She would understand. His mother always understood.

“Marriage… A partner… I don’t think that’s in the cards for me, if I’m being honest.”

She paused in the dance, letting out a more confused “What do you mean?”

Alastor kept his smile high lest he reveal his stricken nerves. “Love,” he answered. “Finding a woman. I just… I’m okay with not having that.” His breath trembled. “I… don’t really see that in my future.”

The way his mother looked up at him right then made him regret ever opening his mouth. She looked worried; devastated, even, as though he had just admitted to wanting to wound himself. “Oh… honey…”

Alastor winced as she gently cupped his cheek. He never winced at his mother’s loving touches.

She looked to be near tears. “Please, don’t say that about yourself… you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

.

..

…

Alastor had only meant to walk the distance from Cannibal Town to the hotel, but so lost in his own thoughts was he that he’d completely passed by the giant structure and just wandered the entirety of Pentagram City. The Radio Demon thought back to every interaction that he and Lucifer had engaged in, and honestly, he felt like such a fool.

For someone who prided himself on being a master manipulator, he had been so oblivious to the signs. The worst part was that had it been any other person, Alastor would have caught it right away. This wasn’t his first time being courted, after all. He had worked very hard to craft a well-mannered and charming persona, even during his living years. It wasn’t uncommon to have the occasional daring sinner to look his way with less than professional intentions. He could usually detect it from a mile away. 

There had only been one time where Alastor had been so blind to affection, and it wasn’t because of any sort of special methods used by the other. No, his ignorance had been spawned from denial. He didn’t want to face the fact that one of the only people he could ever say he truly cared about wanted more from him. So, when the truth came out, it hit him like a semi-truck, and Alastor had lost the composure he had spent decades honing.

He told himself he had been cutting off a potential weakness, but he was sure even Vox himself couldn’t tell such a more obvious lie. 

No, it wasn’t that Alastor couldn’t recognize that Lucifer was trying to court him. He had just been in denial, because he dreaded the idea of it being true. He liked the bitter relationship they had now. He enjoyed pissing off the king of Hell and getting away with it. But Lucifer had to get too personal, the bumbling idiot. 

Now, in theory, Alastor could just ignore Lucifer and bask in the man’s foolish attempts at courtship until he eventually got the hint and walked away. No confrontations needed to be had, everything could go back to normal.

In theory, Alastor could just reject him and get back to their daily routine of getting on each other’s nerves. Swift and painless — for Alastor, anyhow. 

In theory, Alastor could just ask Lucifer to stop and leave him alone. It was that simple.

In theory, Alastor could just say “no”. He was allowed to say “no”. 

But whenever the word buzzed on his lips, swallowing became more difficult.

Why was Lucifer even courting him? Surely the king could just take what he wanted should he truly desired it. No, there had to be another motive. Perhaps the devil simply wanted Alastor to be nice and agreeable; pliant and willing to serve the king under the guise of a romantic relationship.

Even just the idea made him want to vomit.

However, Alastor had learned from Charlie that, as foolishly optimistic as it sounded, not everyone was out for something. As paranoid as he was, he was forced to consider this a factor; that yes, Lucifer really was just a love-sick fool who had gotten his feelings hooked on the Radio Demon of all creatures.

If it was anyone other than Lucifer, he could just dispose of the demon discretely and be done with it, but no. With this one had to sit down and work out a concept as strange and complex as romantic attraction.

It wasn’t until his shadow swirled in front of him, annoyed, that he realized that this was the fifth time he had passed by the hotel. Looking up at the sky, he saw that the sun had just begun to rise. Morning already. He had been wandering the streets for some time, simply lost in thought.

“What an utter waste of time,” he scowled to himself, allowing his shadow to pull him into the ground and transport him into the hotel. He thought about finding Lucifer directly, but ultimately decided against it. He needed a moment to collect himself.

Alastor appeared back in his radio tower, noticing a full, ice cold cup of coffee sat on the desk where he did his radio broadcasts. Niffty always delivered a coffee every broadcast. 

He swore under his breath. No wonder he had felt more out of sorts as the hours passed: he’d missed a radio broadcast. His cycling thoughts about the whole Lucifer situation had been so distracting. 

The sinner carded his claws through his hair in a brief attempt to collect himself. “Alright, no more useless pondering of what is and could be,” he promised himself. “I shall go about my routine as I normally do.” 

Speaking of.

Looking at the clock on the wall, he noticed that it was almost time for breakfast, and only a minute before one of the staples of his and Lucifer’s routine. He honestly wasn’t sure when it had started, but it had become an integral part of each morning.

He walked over to the gaping maw of the tower (a truly wonderful addition) and stepped halfway out, looking over and at the large apple tower that stood tall as the hotel’s other guardian. Right on time, the balcony door to the tower opened and Lucifer lazily hung halfway out. They made eye contact, letting only a beat pass before they both flipped each other off. 

Lucifer sported a wide, toothy smile while Alastor’s own grin dipped into a snarl. In his irritation, he made sure to add a mouthed “fuck you” for good measure, something that visibly caused Lucifer to laugh, the fucker.

The gesture only lasted for a good two seconds slipping back into their respective towers. 

Admittedly, he did feel a tad better from that.

It was like a cut of rotting raw venison; no morning was complete without it.

Speaking of, breakfast would be starting soon, and while he never joined the others for their morning meals due to his more unique tastes (AKA: Alastor was really tired of pancakes every morning), he figured he could use a cup of black coffee to start his day.

A cup Lucifer would undoubtedly prepare for him as another piece of his courtship ritual. 

Now that he was fully aware of Lucifer’s intentions, he knew he would be overanalyzing every single movement Lucifer would make. 

Lucifer sits beside Alastor — is it because there are no more seats available, or because he simply wants to be in Alastor’s presence?

Lucifer waves at Alastor — is that a friendly wave or a wave of romance?

Lucifer decides to put less cream and sugar into his coffee — is it because he’s not in the mood for so much sugar, or is it because he wants to impress Alastor and his black coffee-sipping ways?

Lucifer picks raspberry jam over strawberry jam — is he just in the mood for something new, or is this something relating to Alastor? He wasn’t sure how it would relate to him just yet, and his paranoia was probably getting the best of him, but Alastor would be damned if he let himself be blindsided again; especially not by a jar of raspberry jam.

His shadow snapped its jaws, a glare present over its features. This snapped Alastor back into the present. “Yes, of course, you’re right. No more overthinking,” he scowled to himself.

He stood in front of a standing mirror suited to his height, fixing up his already immaculate appearance — immaculate save for the somewhat conflicted expression he wore. Had he been bearing this face his entire walk? How embarrassing. With a twitch of his grin, he snapped himself back into a cheerful facade.  “I’ve always fancied a bit of improv. So, whatever comes my way, I shall handle it — the good and the bad.” 

He let out a slow sigh as he smoothed his coat. “Everything will be fine.” He flashed himself an optimistic smile. Who knows? Perhaps this is all some big misunderstanding and Rosie had finally been mistaken in her romantic analysis.

Of course, this would be the first time she’d ever made such a mistake in the near century in which they’d known each other, but hey, it was possible. 

He decided he wouldn’t confront Lucifer right away. Alastor would sit back and observe, deciding he would be receptive towards Lucifer’s attempts at closeness for the rest of the day; not only to confirm his suspicions, but to also allow himself to experience receiving such affection with context applied. 

Alastor let out a slow exhale, wincing at how it wavered. “Everything will be fine.”

He would call the chances of a positive outcome to it all very slim, but he didn’t even know what a positive outcome would look like. Rejection? Acceptance? Lucifer would certainly like the latter, but Alastor had never done well with meeting the positive expectations of others.

…

..

.

“And are you sexually active?” the doctor asked casually.

“Not at all,” Alastor replied with confidence.

“And when’s the last time you were sexually active?”

“Never have been.”

The doctor looked up from his notes in annoyance before realizing that the man was being serious. “Really? Handsome devil like you?” he chuckled. 

Oh, joys. Alastor’s newest practitioner was one of these people. He took it in stride, playing the comment off with a charming smile. “Ah, well, it’s not important.”

“Ah, saving yourself for marriage then,” the man hummed, getting back to his notes. “Honorable. Though I’m surprised you ain’t already married. You’re famous, aintchya?” 

Alastor nearly straight up ignored the question this time. “Yes. Still waiting for the right person. So, anyway, about my sprained wrist?”

The practitioner blinked in surprise at the somewhat aggressive response. Thankfully, he was able to move on.

For all of five minutes, that is.

“You know,” his doctor hummed, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Alastor groaned into his hand. “I have a friend who had trouble finding a gal for years. Thankfully I knew a guy who—”

“Not interested,” Alastor interrupted swiftly. “Never have been.”

“In…?”

The radio host made sure his answer was unambiguous. “Sex. Romance. Being with other people. I’m not interested in those things.”

The doctor seemed to understand quickly. “Oh, alright then. Well, in that case, I know someone you can talk to. He works at the state hospital down the road.”

Alastor blinked, rendered next to speechless. “Par-pardon me?”

“He’s great with sorting people out,” replied his doctor. “The field of psychology is still evolving, but I’m sure there’s a name for what you have. It no doubt stems from trauma. People intimacy issues usually get it from trauma. But, as I said, I know one of the doctors there. You can go see him and he’ll have a couple suggestions.”

There was a moment of silence as Alastor sat there, churning the words in his mind. “And… why would I do that?”

The doctor looked as though Alastor had just posed absolute nonsense. “I mean…” He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “It’s love. Love is what makes us human.”

.

..

…

When Alastor, for the first time in weeks, finally accepted Lucifer’s cup of coffee, he was sure the devil would shatter on the spot. His lips parted in surprise, but he kept quiet, awaiting the sinner’s final judgment on his chosen blend of coffee.

The Radio Demon sipped the hot beverage, humming in consideration (as if he actually needed to judge the taste of pure black coffee) and nodded once. It was a perfectly normal cup of unpoisoned coffee. He would admit that actually accepting such a small gesture was enough to dust off some of the weight on his shoulders. “Thank you, Lucifer.”

Accepting a gift and an expression of gratitude? A smile twitched onto the seraphim’s face. “No problem; good to see you finally got that stick out of your ass.”

Alastor scoffed at the insult as the king walked away, but he found himself thankful for it. He would much rather prefer a biting remark over pathetic fawning. “I assume we have a meeting this morning?”

Lucifer snorted. “You’re the hotelier, aren’t you? You should know this.”

“Charlie can be quite impulsive,” Alastor said simply. “I’ve also been a bit distracted.”

“Yeah, you never came back to the hotel last night,” Lucifer mentioned casually, dumping an obscene amount of sugar into his own coffee. “I figured you had something going on.”

Alastor quirked a brow. “Waiting for me, were you?”

The flush returned to Lucifer’s cheeks as he realized his error, but he slid into a smooth recovery. “No, it’s just obvious; I actually got to experience peace and quiet for once.”

“Ah, yes, I forget you’re used to solitude,” Alastor hummed. “You certainly seemed happy to hole yourself up in that gaudy palace for many decades.”

“Gaudy?” Lucifer scoffed. “Figures you wouldn’t know good taste when you dress like that.”

“Bold for someone who looks like a clown, but I suppose that’s fitting for someone who acts like one.”

“I may be a clown, but you’re the real attention whore here.”

Oh ho ho, motherfucker.

“HEY!”

Lucifer and Alastor paused, processing the fact that the outburst did not come from either one of them. They looked over to see Angel, looking enticing to the average eye even with his fur mussed from sleep. “The only whore in this hotel is me. Ain’t no one stealing my title, ya hear?”

And like that, a majority of their tension disappeared. Alastor and Lucifer looked at one another, their gazes tinged with both light anger and amusement. Despite being insulted in such a way, the Radio Demon couldn’t help the bright feeling he held in his chest.

To be able to piss off the most powerful being in all of Hell was a delightful game, but to have Lucifer bite back so effectively added a bit of a challenge to the board, and Alastor liked when his games held a bit of challenge. 

Of course, he was pissed off now, but he would look back on this moment fondly and scheme how else he could get on the king’s nerves.

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “I’ll see you at the meeting then.”

Lucifer flashed a sharp-toothed grin. “Yup.”

After they separated, Alastor would get another hour to cool off before the morning meeting. When he returned and went to sit in his armchair, he saw Cherri Bomb slumped in his place, chewing her gum with her arms crossed as she waited for the session to start. 

“It appears you’re in my spot, my dear,” Alastor hummed.

Cherri lazily raised her brow. “Yeah? You own the place, don’chya? There are plenty of other seats.”

The corners of Alastor’s smile twitched. “A reasonable conclusion, I suppose. But my point still stands. Get off of my seat.” Three shadowy tendrils rose up from the ground and wrapped themselves around the armchair, about to launch Cherri like a bottle rocket. Of course, Charlie came in right at that moment, and Alastor had to refrain from harming the little deviant, much to her visible relief. 

With just a warning glare to the anarchist, Alastor took to the couch. As he watched the fiery young woman, he noticed a very deliberate blink and smirk towards Angel Dust. When the deer looked his way, he caught Angel mid-wink back at his friend. 

Before Alastor could process what it meant, he noticed Husk staring at him from across the couch. Niffty was right there with him, her head peeking just over the arm of the couch to watch her Roach King. “Yes?”

“You missed last night’s broadcast,” Niffty said simply.

Husk hummed in agreement. “You never miss a broadcast. Even after the building collapsed.”

Alastor has to consciously stop himself from wincing. “I suppose that’s true, isn’t it? Why does it matter?”

Husk and Niffty looked at one another, for the answer was obvious. Alastor found it hard to keep up his glare and not look away in shamez

Before Niffty could approach the issue, Lucifer decided to cut in by sitting beside Alastor, despite the many other seats still available. He was almost casual as he did so, flopping right next to the sinner and making him bounce with the jump of the cushions. The Radio Demon decided to hold his tongue and not hiss at the devil as he usually would. He would make an effort to keep an open mind this time around. 

While the Radio Demon kept his attention on Charlie’s words (something about having a movie night; he didn’t care in the slightest), he caught Lucifer glancing over at him a couple times. At one point, Alastor decided to catch his gaze and hold it; a fruitless intimidation tactic to get Lucifer to stop. To his surprise, a soft golden blush began to appear on the king’s face before he forced himself to look away. It sent an odd buzz throughout the sinner, knowing that he’d caused such a unique reaction in the king.

Alastor noticed then that Charlie’s chatter had ceased. Upon glancing back at the princess, he saw a wide smile gracing her features, one that made him oddly uncomfortable. “May I help you, my dear?”

Charlie seemed to catch herself. “Oh! Um, just thinking, haha!”

Angel Dust and Cherri facepalmed in unison.

The meeting ended soon after, much to Alastor’s relief. He had been checking the time frequently, hoping that things would be wrapped up in time for his next broadcast. As he stood up to make his exit, he was stopped by Charlie. 

“Alastor! I hope you aren’t busy, but the hotel’s anniversary is coming up! We were hoping you could grab a few things for us?”

Alastor tilted his head. “Could it wait a couple hours? I have a broadcast to get to.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah! I forgot what day it was! Sorry — of course it can wait. I’ll make you a list for when you’re done.

Lucifer scoffed in his seat. “You can’t pull away from the microphone for once?”

Alastor didn’t bother to look over at him. “I already missed last night’s broadcast; it would be a shame to keep my listeners waiting.”

Snickered the king, “Oh, all two of them?” 

Bitch.

Alastor stiffened at the insult. It was one thing to insult him to his face, but his radio show was different; it was sacred.

Lucifer undoubtedly felt the static in the air, and while usually he would fearlessly dig his fangs further into the wound, he instead scaled back, much to Alastor’s surprise. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said casually, his hands up in surrender. “Go do your thing. I can pick up whatever Charlie needs; it shouldn’t be a hassle.”

Despite getting the leniency he wanted, Alastor was a little put off by the sudden softness that appeared in the fallen angel’s eyes. It was as though Lucifer had recognized he’d crossed a line and was courteous enough to step back over. 

Did Lucifer truly care about such a boundary, or was he merely abiding by it for the sake of getting Alastor to sway for him. After all, one had to make sacrifices and grit their teeth to get through their lover’s flaws, did they not? That was always what he was told.

Instead of being thankful, Alastor found himself unable to tell what was truthful. Perhaps none of it was; perhaps all of it was. 

He saw his shadow flicker in his vision, a reminder that he was getting too lost in his head. ‘Don’t think about it,’ it seemed to tell him.

Melding back into the present, Alastor nodded once to Lucifer. “Good.”

With that, he melted into his shadow.

…

..

.

Mimzy is charming. Mimzy is fun. Mimzy knows how to make Alastor laugh. 

So why does this date make Alastor feel like he’s pulling teeth? Because, by God, he wants to be anywhere other than the bar right now. It was their favorite bar, but now he wondered if he would ever come back.

While Alastor had always been more on the listening side of their friendship, he was reaching a limit he didn’t know he had. As Mimzy kept chattering on about the goings on in her life, his brain couldn’t help but pick apart every little flaw of hers. He had always been aware of them, but now, during this sham of a date, they truly made themselves known.

Alastor, for his part, smiled and nodded along, occasionally mixing things up with a soft “mmhmm” or a “is that so?” He had checked out quite a while ago, though. His mind was more focused on trying to piece together what was going wrong.

He liked Mimzy as a friend, but a friendship between a man and a woman that wasn’t purely through association was almost always considered suspect. Now, Alastor normally had little care for the expectations of society if it didn’t concern his immediate facade, but lately he had what he considered a moment of weakness. 

Perhaps, he’d thought to himself, if he decided to romantically pursue someone he was already quite comfortable around, things would just slot into place; that it would fix what was wrong with him. He wouldn’t know if he didn’t at least give it a chance, and after the latest inquiry from his mother as to whether or not he’d found a nice woman yet, he decided to just dive in. How hard could it be? He faked a good chunk of his personality already; this should be a breeze.

Now that he was on this date, however, he found himself thinking back to his last victim, and how the man had gotten a brief upper hand and stabbed him in the chest. It was a bitch to handle, especially without proper medical treatment from a professional. He still had his stitches, too. 

He now came to the realization that he would rather be stabbed again than continue pretending this date was even remotely fun.

That was pain; this was suffering.

Alastor’s sigh wasn’t meant to be as pained as it was, and Mimzy instantly cut herself off, looking him up and down critically. “You’re not having fun, are you?”

There was no hesitation. “Absolutely not.”

Mimzy let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God; I didn’t know how long I could keep this up.”

Usually Alastor would be offended by such deception, but instead his body relaxed so significantly that he resembled a folding accordion. 

He smiled at the way Mimzy laughed at him and proceeded to buy a couple more drinks for the two of them.

.

..

…

Alastor’s radio show was routine. He interrupted the continuous flow of agonized screams to discuss a few topics, give his opinion on some Overlord politics, and (as a favor for Charlie) mention the hotel, though he was unable to help the snide humor that bled into the last one. 

Every so often he would get a caller asking for advice or to give an anecdote that they would want the Radio Demon’s opinion on, and the Radio Demon would answer freely and honestly, no matter how gruesome the it may be.

So, yes, a very normal broadcast (for the Radio Demon, that is). Just because it was routine, however, didn’t make it any less important to him.

Every so often his thoughts would trail to Lucifer, wondering if what he said on the balcony a few nights prior was genuine: that he listened and was soothed by the Radio Demon’s voice.

Alastor pondered if the angel was simply gritting his teeth through it and listening so as to gather more intel on Alastor’s beliefs and investments.

Or perhaps it was all genuine. 

He resisted getting lost in his head again and decided to simply find out for himself.

During the fifteen minute break, when he would usually take time to relax to the jazz he had playing in the background, he tapped on the microphone of his cane. He disappeared into it with a wave of static, finding an active radio on the first floor of the hotel and appearing out the other end with a wave of shadow. When he arrived, Lucifer was lying lengthwise on the couch and reading a book, the same jazz tune playing on the antique radio Alastor had just come from.

The devil looked up in surprise. “Broadcast already over?” he asked, a single brow hiked.

Alastor canted his head like a curious deer. “Oh? Is that disappointment I hear?”

The king snorted. “Disappointed that I don’t get to hear your shit opinions on cell phones? Please.” He buried his nonexistent nose back in the book. “You make for good white noise, but don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hmm. And here I thought you found my voice ‘soothing’, as you put it,” Alastor reminded, sitting prim and proper on the arm of the couch. 

Lucifer cringed in a way that clearly read “shit, I did say that, didn’t I?” Foolishly, he tried to deny it ever happened. “Mmmm, doesn’t ring a bell.”

Alastor scoffed and leaned down, a clawed index finger finding its way under the other’s chin. He used it to guide Lucifer’s gaze towards his, where he was able to see clearly into those wide red eyes. Usually such an action was done as an intimidation tactic; commanding attention with such an invasive action, when paired with sharp talons, was usually quite effective in instilling a bit of fear. However, upon seeing Lucifer swallow thickly as his cheeks were tinted gold, Alastor realized that the action could almost be seen as intimate. Just seeing the way Lucifer looked up at him, eyes wide and breathless, cleared all doubts in Alastor’s mind that there wasn’t at least some attraction on the monarch’s end.

Normally, Alastor would have pulled away at the realization, but he continued instead. He didn’t try to exaggerate the act, nor did he lighten it; he just went about it as if Lucifer were another pathetic sinner that had crossed Alastor’s path. He wanted to know just what about himself pulled Lucifer so close, just so he could stop such habits if need be.

“Telling such poor lies are quite unbecoming of you, sire,” he hissed, his voice holding an amused lilt. “I’m not fond of being lied to, you know.”

Lucifer dared a smug look. “Yeah? And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

A good question, Alastor realized. It’s not like he could actually do anything, save for—

He raised his finger, forcing Lucifer’s gaze upwards ever so slightly so Alastor could get a glimpse of his pale bare throat. Like a blank canvas, it was begging to be painted.

“Not anything of consequence for you, I’m afraid,” Alastor admitted, his mouth watering. The prickling of his eternal hunger grew at the prospect of another taste of seraph blood. “But I would be more than happy to take your blood as recompense. I assume your earlier offer still stands?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened a tad, a flash of dread gracing his features in a way that was oh so lovely to see. Alastor had drawn out such a rewarding look, and it felt good.

A smirk soon found its way across black lips and glowing red eyes were soon heavily lidded. Lucifer freely craned his head to expose more of his neck, offering the cannibal a bite of his slender throat. “Go on then,” he sighed, fixing Alastor with a far more sultry expression. “Drink your fill.”

Alastor’s grin tightened. All enjoyment he had was quickly drained away. 

Sex. Yes, of course. He could already see the lust in Lucifer’s eyes. He forgot that sex would be expected of him should Alastor comply and let himself be swayed.

(Alastor did not “let” things happen to him; he chose them. He needed to remind himself of that, but it was getting increasingly more difficult.)

It was already a problem that Alastor couldn’t give Lucifer the love he craved; he forgot that there was usually a sexual component with these sorts of things.

He once thought that, perhaps, if he just tried it, things would make sense, and maybe his body would right itself. 

As it turns out, that wasn’t the case, either.

He hated the way the monarch was looking at him at that moment: with lust, but there was so much more than that. It was the eased, yet intense gaze of someone who knew they were in complete control.

Alastor had difficulty swallowing.

He pulled away quickly, maintaining a straight face despite the crackle of discomfort from the radio on the table. “Thank you for the offer, your highness, but I must get back to the broadcast.”

He caught the look of playful confusion on Lucifer's face as he turned on his heel and moved to touch the radio and transport back.

He’d made up his mind now. The fact that Lucifer was able to elicit such buried emotions from Alastor was a sign that a stable coupling between them just wasn’t going to work. He wouldn’t be able to return such affections, and even if he could, he wasn’t sure if his paranoid psyche would ever allow it.

Before he could disappear, Lucifer spoke up.

“Hey, Alastor.”

Alastor paused, an ear twitching. Something about the way Lucifer said his name sent a shiver down his spine. It was oddly pleasant. He kept his composure, hardly looking over his shoulder at the man. “Yes?”

“I do, actually.” Lucifer caught the deer’s puzzled stare before he corrected himself. “Um, find your voice soothing, I mean.” When he didn’t get a response, he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I may not be into some of the topics, but hearing you talk is nice… especially when you decide to sing or play the piano.” He averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “And it, uh… I, um…” He suddenly found the far wall very interesting. “Sometimes, when I can’t sleep, I come down, turn on the radio, and… tune in, I suppose.” He shrugged, turning back to lock gazes with Alastor. “It helps me get out of my own head.” 

‘You help me get out of my own head’ was the unspoken addition Alastor saw in those eyes.

Oh.

Alastor didn’t experience that familiar sense of disgust as he had moments before. 

He had many listeners, but most were not the king of Hell. They tuned in for a variety of reasons, but he suspected very few did so in order to sleep. While he was sure Lucifer could simply take a few tranquilizers for a good night’s rest, there was an odd sense of dependency that came with a demon, king of Hell or not, wanting soft jazz or a soothing voice to ease him into a natural rest. It was a need that had a more genuine sentiment than simply lust. 

Alastor found he quite liked it.

“Unsurprising,” he said at last, his voice stiff, but artificially so. “Unlike the sham demon who runs those noisy picture boxes, I take pride in each broadcast I make. They’re a literal part of me.”

Lucifer made a hum of surprise, blinking one eye at a time.

“What? You don’t think the interference over my voice is simply for show, do you?” Alastor chuckled softly, approaching in smooth strides. “I’m forever connected to the radio, you see. I am just as much a part of its invisible frequencies as I am my physical form. So, when I broadcast, it’s not just a form of entertainment; it’s me indulging in joining that which completes me.” He hummed at the thought. “One could even call it… intimate.”

Lucifer blinked, both eyes this time, thoughtful. “You don’t just like radios, you are one.”

Alastor’s ears perked and his grin grew taut. “An astute observation,” he noted with genuine surprise. Only one demon had ever been able to come to such a conclusion on their own.

Lucifer chuckled. “I try…” A grimace crossed his visage. “It must’ve hurt, being unable to broadcast for seven years.”

Alastor’s eyes widened, his frame growing stiff. It was a statement of pure empathy, coming from someone who couldn’t come close to understanding what he felt, but still cared all the same. 

He was admittedly caught off guard by the statement and let out a humorless laugh, trying to feign indifference, but failing in the end. He felt vulnerable right then, and he didn’t like it. His instinct was to retreat, but with the emotions of the past day running rampant through his system, Alastor couldn’t help but allow Lucifer this piece of his vulnerability. “You would be correct. It was…” He looked away. “…awful.”

Silence ensued. Alastor couldn’t feel Lucifer searching for something to say, but Alastor decided it was best to break the silence before the king eventually found the words. He wasn’t about to be subject to anyone’s pity. 

He held out a hand, conjuring a fine vintage radio, framed in polished wood and laminated a deep crimson. Two antlers stuck up from atop the crown of the radio, a trademark feature that marked the radios he personally conjured. He held it out for Lucifer to take. “Here.” 

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at the radio suspiciously, but he still took it into his hands, turning it over curiously. It was exactly like the one currently playing Alastor’s broadcast, and yet he still asked, “What’s this?”

“One of my radios,” Alastor answered, arms crossed behind his back. “You can keep it. This way you won’t have to venture out of your quarters when you have trouble sleeping.” He hummed deviously. “So long as you don’t mind having a piece of me in your room while you sleep.”

Lucifer lifted a single brow down at the radio. “A piece of you, huh? Alright then.” He lifted a finger and placed it directly onto the radio’s speaker, and from there sprouted a series of gilded designs that began to carve their way around the crimson wood. It wasn’t anything too fancy — there were a few apples here and there and a snake that wound its way around the frame, as well as a single duckling at the radio’s base. 

Upon finishing, Lucifer looked up at a bewildered Alastor, smirking. “Now everyone will know it's mine.”

Oh.

Alastor should have been offended that his radio was marred in such a way, but not only was the design quite beautiful, he was distracted by the possessive lilt in Lucifer’s voice. 

It was a flirtatious statement, that much was for sure. Alastor had always been swift and unambiguous with his condemnation of suggestive sentiments towards him, but this time, he found his eyes trailing down to Lucifer’s hands and how they held the radio with such care. A thumb ran over the polished wood with a few affectionate swipes, and Alastor swore he could almost feel it. It perturbed him in ways he hadn’t known possible.

Worst of all?

Alastor didn’t hate what Lucifer said.

He didn’t like it, either, but he didn’t want to murder the king in rage, which was a start. He just needed some time to unpack.

“I must get back to my broadcast, but hopefully this will bring you some rest,” Alastor replied at last. This drew out a softer smile from Lucifer. As much as Alastor liked to see him rage, this contented version of the king was turning out to be a rather calming sight. Time to fix that. “After all, they say that plenty of sleep helps children to grow taller.”

Lucifer’s contentment fell away in an instant. “Hey, man, what the fu—?”

“Au revoir, my good fellow!” Alastor called, turning on his heel and melting into his radio before Lucifer could gather his bearings quickly enough to retaliate.

…

..

.

Alastor sat by, his hands folded in his lap as Rosie eyed their guest with a critical gaze. Before her sat the TV Demon, slumped back in his chair with his arms crossed as he gave her a bored expression. He tossed Alastor a questioning look, but the Radio Demon did not respond, simply allowing Rosie to make her evaluation.

The company the Radio Demon kept his own business, but whenever Alastor found himself close enough to a demon to truly call them a “friend”, it was always nice to get the Rosie Stamp of Approval.

“So, Vox, what would happen if I bit you right now?”

Vox narrowed his eyes in disgust. “Well, you’d probably get electrocuted and die. But, hey, whatever gets your rocks off.”

Rosie set down her wine glass with a hiccup and a laugh. “Alastor, you didn’t tell me your friend here was such a card!” She pouted, nudging her friend’s arm. “Oh, but a shame you can’t sink your teeth in! He looks like he would be just delectable!”

“Yes, a shame indeed,” Alastor chuckled, his shadow cackling and looping around Vox’s chair with fondness. “Alas, he is to remain unmarked by yours truly.”

He noted how Vox’s pupils shrank and his body stiffened, before it was soon played off with a laugh. “That’s not to say I don’t have some insulated parts,” he murmured, his boxy head turning away as he rubbed the back of his neck, which did indeed bear softer, insulated flesh should the turtleneck be peeled back. Alastor rolled his eyes at the teasing.

Rosie’s brow jumped up in surprise as she looked between Alastor and Vox. She narrowed her eyes once more, but this time a knowing little smile came to her lips. It seemed she’d reached her conclusion, much to her cannibal friend’s delight. 

“Seems like we’re outta wine,” she hummed, gesturing to everyone’s empty glasses. “Lemme get another — no bloodwine for you, darling?”

Vox flashed a grin. “Just the normal stuff, if you would.” 

Rosie laughed gently as she stood. “But you’re all circuits and wires, love! Does it really count as cannibalism if—”

“Rosie.” Alastor was curt, but polite in his warning. 

She held up her hands in surrender. “Lemme go get a couple bottles in the back. I’ll just be a minute!”

Alastor watched Rosie leave, knowing he had bought Vox a minute to relax. Vox hadn’t said anything, but he didn’t need to; neither of them did. The TV Demon had communicated his discomfort through the radio waves. There were no words, but he could feel the sentiment behind them. It was a more raw experience than words could ever provide, and Alastor would soon respond with his own silent communication, this one giving comfort. Vox no doubt received the transmission, for his features softened and his body relaxed a tad. His next transmission expressed gratitude. 

It was a strangely intimate form of conversation; a one of a kind connection between two demons whose very beings were entwined with the airwaves. Even Rosie had trouble wrapping her head around the concept, so it was nice that Alastor had a friend who understood such an intricate part of him. 

Rosie returned with a couple bottles and a wide grin. She’d taken far longer than she should have, signaling she had simply left to watch or listen to whatever was happening at the table. Which, of course, was nothing; nothing she would be able to understand, anyway.

They soon settled into a more relaxed conversation, involving plenty of drinks and a few snacks that even Vox could enjoy. Another hour in, however, Vox realized there were a few smudges on his screen. He excused himself and went to the bathroom to clean up.

The moment Vox was gone, Alastor and Rosie turned to look at one another in unison. “Well, Rosie? Your analysis?” 

“Personally? Not someone I would spend my time with,” Rosie replied honestly, “but he seems just perfect for you! He makes you laugh and mellows you out when you need it. Plus, he isn’t Mimzy!” Her contempt for the little lady garnered a laugh from Alastor. She leaned in a tad closer. “You know, I haven’t seen you this content with another person in a while.”

Alastor’s chuckles came in bursts of pure distortion, delighted to have Rosie’s approval. “Yes, well, he’s quite the sinner. I’m not too fond of his constant attempts at making me his business partner, but he’s been a… good friend to me.”

Rosie quirked a brow with a devilish smirk. “More than a friend, perhaps?” 

Alastor hummed, annoyed. “I already said I’m not interested in becoming business partners, Rosie.”

The matriarch snorted with laughter and gave Alastor a gentle nudge on the shoulder. “Oh my Satan, you are so oblivious, Alastor!”

Whatever the joke was, Alastor wasn’t getting it. He canted his head. “Care to explain.”

Rosie glanced over at the door Vox had left through, making sure it was closed before lowering her voice. “He likes you, Alastor!”

Alastor blinked. “Pardon?”

“The way he looks at you, the way his screen glows a little brighter when you say his name, the way he clings onto your every word — that’s a man in love,” she insisted, grinning from ear to ear. “And he has it bad.”

Alastor’s smile shrank considerably in the passing moments. “Oh.”

Rosie’s face fell. “Oh?”

Alastor looked away. He was no longer having a delightful time among friends. “Oh.”

.

..

…

As he had admitted with Rosie, Alastor had grown to realize that he didn’t exactly hate being around Lucifer. Their talk during Alastor’s break still hung in his memory, clinging throughout the rest of his broadcast and lingering into the afternoon. 

It was around the end of the broadcast itself that he had come to a conclusion: Lucifer’s feelings were genuine, and he cared for Alastor.

The Radio Demon had warped his perspective this way and that to find an angle of manipulation on the king’s part, but there came a point where his attempts at avoiding the truth became truly pathetic. 

Lucifer cared for him; loved him, possibly. It was a fact, and once he accepted it and internalized it, Alastor figured the next step was to understand how he felt about Lucifer’s affections.

Well.

Alastor liked it. 

He even came to discover that he wanted it. 

That was all that needed to be said.

Despite his growing craving for the care that Lucifer had for him, he knew how to resist such temptations, because there was a difference between wanting someone and wanting only what they had to offer. 

Alastor was faced with this dilemma, and so it was only reasonable that he sit back and observe the traits he found desirable in Lucifer.

As it turned out, there were several aspects of the fallen angel he found appealing. 

For one, Lucifer was small. Bite-sized. Yes, Lucifer might as well have been a god with how his power compared to Alastor's, but it didn’t change the fact that he still had to look up at the Radio Demon. It wasn’t helped by the devil's willingness to let Alastor handle him. He let Alastor lift his chin with his talons and allowed the occasional touch on the shoulder, and let him not forget how the angel let Alastor feed off of him.

Lucifer also knew how to dance, and he danced well. His voice was also quite pleasing on their ears. The few songs Alastor had heard from the king were quite beautiful, and he had to admit that Lucifer was rather talented. Now, he still found the ducks ridiculous, but he could respect the passion and effort put into each one.

(Never mind the red one still in his coat pocket.)

The power the king held was also appealing in itself, and not just because Alastor wanted that power for himself. Alastor respected power, and he was inherently drawn to it.

Lucifer was also just pleasant to look at. He often found his fingers desiring to trace over that alabaster flesh; flawless and so easy to ruin. He could cut up that pliant meat with ease and it would stitch itself back up in seconds, ready to be mauled once more. 

The king’s golden hair was lustrous and silken, just barely long enough to allow one’s fingers to tangle between the locks and take a firm hold.

Lucifer also had animal traits to him, such as a snake tongue, shark-like teeth, and a rather bulky pair of hooves, as seen when Alastor spotted him wandering around at night. As a sinner sent down with animal traits, as well, Alastor found himself oddly attracted to the sights, and he highly suspected it to be those primal instincts that came with the territory. Unable to be helped, he was afraid.

Then there were his more angelic traits. Alastor had never once found any of Vaggie’s features capturing his attention, but Lucifer was another story. His eyes glowed softly in the darkness, twinkling with angelic power that, when landing on him, sparked a nice sensation, like he was blessed to even be looked upon by a being so powerful. 

Alastor had only ever seen a flash of Lucifer’s true demonic form, when the demon had tried to intimidate him after an insult that had truly crossed the line. It had been nothing short of beautiful, and it brought out an underlying sense of shame and unworthiness that he was quick to adjust to and ignore, but still had him trembling initially.

Finally, there was the devil’s complete lack of inner self-care. 

Oh, he was a hot mess, as Rosie would say, and ever since Lucifer’s earlier sleepless admission, Alastor found himself wanting to dig his claws in and work on the king like a project. He wanted to properly preen those wings, fix up every little flaw in his posture, and actually get him out of his room to be a proper king for once.

He initially wasn’t sure why he even wanted these things. He wasn’t the king’s caretaker, after all. He told himself, as he’d told Rosie, that his urge stemmed from wanting to control the king for his power. However, there were far easier ways to take advantage of such a pathetic king than making him dependent on the Radio Demon.

This wasn’t love, was it? This sounded like the care and devotion people spoke of with love, and there were many attributes Lucifer held that Alastor enjoyed, but he didn’t feel that golden glow of happiness so many people described.

It was the one riddle he couldn’t quite solve, and he was determined to have it ironed out before he made his final decision.

Alastor believed he was through with his interactions with the king for the rest of the night, but it would be just an hour prior to dinnertime that he would be approached by Lucifer while sitting at the bar.

His shadow quickly alerted him to the approaching king, and soon Alastor was breaking away from his conversation with Husk to peer down at the man who was causing him such conflict. “Your Highness. What a surprise. Isn’t it your turn to make supper tonight?”

Lucifer had his hands stuffed in his pockets in an effort to look casual, but he still came off as extremely awkward nonetheless. “Uh, yeah; that’s actually what I came to ask you about. I need an extra pair of hands in the kitchen, and I was thinking maybe you could help me out.”

Alastor tilted his head as he eyed Lucifer warily. His hum of consideration came in the form of a soft wave of radio interference. Lucifer could handle the kitchen on his own. He had magic, after all, but outside of that, his dishes were usually fairly simple. This was an obvious attempt by the king to spend time with Alastor, and they both knew it. It wasn’t meant to be hidden in the first place. Lucifer was, in a sense, offering himself up to the Radio Demon. Whether or not Alastor would accept was a question that needed answering.

Alastor chanced a glance at Husk, whose expression remained completely neutral, though his eyes were on the Overlord.

So, Husk knew. The radio had to wonder who else in the hotel was aware of Lucifer’s affections. 

Alastor brought his gaze back to Lucifer, who was by now shifting uncomfortably in the silence. “I mean, you know a lot more about spices than I do, and, you, uh, know a lot of recipes, so I was thinking you’d be a great help in the kitchen.”

“Ah.” Alastor huffed. “Because your food is so bland?”

Lucifer nodded confidently. “Yes— no! I mean no! My food is fine! I mean— Fuck!” 

Alastor laughed, gracefully rising from his seat. Another point in Lucifer's favor: he was funny. Perhaps not intentionally, but his fumbling still made Alastor laugh every once in a while. 

“I shall assist you, then. Shall we?”

The fallen seraphim lit up in surprise, a wide grin splitting his face. “Uh, yeah! Yeah, sure. The kitchen is this way — uh, I mean, I’m sure you knew that but — um. Let’s go.”

Alastor rolled his eyes despite his lack of annoyance, following the man to the kitchen. He stopped just outside of it when he heard an excited squeal from behind him. Brow furrowed, he looked back at the lounge for the source of the sound. His gaze landed on Charlie, who was nonchalantly reading a book on the couch. A book that was upside down. He narrowed his eyes, but forced himself to ignore the odd occurance for now.

“What’s on the menu?” Alastor asked, setting his cane to the side, just beside Lucifer’s own apple-topped one. 

“I’m feeling old-fashioned, so we’re going with potage from beef,” Lucifer replied casually, already getting the ingredients out.

Alastor feigned disappointment. “No venison?”

Lucifer stared up at Alastor, slowly blinking one eye at a time. “Do you want venison?” It held the underlying promise that should Alastor only ask, Lucifer would go out and get venison in a heartbeat. And yet the man had a hard time even getting out of bed in the morning.

“Beef is fine,” Alastor hummed, moving past him to grab a knife. “Simply teasing.” This earned him a light glare. “I haven’t had the pleasure of making potage from beef before. I believe it’s time you finally take advantage of that kingly authority and instruct me on what to do.”

“Allowing me to command you, eh?” Lucifer snickered, now on the receiving end of a dirty look. “A large slab of beef was suddenly placed in front of Alastor; enough to five people on its own. “Just mince all this into fine pieces,” he began. “Usually I would handle it, but you’re the murderous psychopath, so I’ll let you have your fun. I’ll handle the cooking portion.”

Alastor certainly wouldn’t protest the given task. “It’s usually better when they’re alive, but I suppose this is fun enough,” he replied. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes as he began to boil a pot of water and dice some vegetables. “Don’t worry; it should be plenty of meat for a carnivore like you.”

“This amount of meat would make a vegan cry,” Alastor supposed with a sardonic grin. “I’m certainly happy with it. It might even quell the hunger for a spell.”

Lucifer hummed at this, but never gave a real answer to it. His eyes drifted over to Alastor every so often, but they mainly remained on the food itself. It was a nice, comfortable silence, with Alastor’s cane playing gentle music to underlay the ambient sounds of chopping and the bubbling of water. After a good twenty minutes, Lucifer asked, “What’s that song you keep playing?”

“Hmm?”

“From your cane. It’s been on repeat.”

Alastor’s ears swiveled to focus on the song.

‘Fish gotta swim.

Birds gotta fly.

I’ll love one man ‘til the day that I die.

Can’t help lovin’ dat man of mine~’

The sinner blinked in surprise. “Ah. My apologies. I hadn’t realized I was looping that song.” He waved his hand, and soon the radio was playing a random selection of jazz he found quite pleasant.

A huff of laughter left Lucifer. “I didn’t think you were a fan of romance songs.”

The corners of Alastor’s lips widened further. “Not normally, no. It was my mother’s favorite song back when she was alive. She was quite the romantic. I’ve been… thinking about her lately.”

Trace amounts of shame swirled in his mind. “She always wanted that sort of thing for me, but…” he winced. “There were quite a few things she didn’t understand about me.”

When he thought of his mother, he only had nothing but love and adoration to give to her memory. Right now, though, he found himself wanting to focus on dinner. 

When Alastor looked over, he noticed Lucifer watching him, his dusted with a gold blush. The angel instantly looked away. Alastor narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t say anything about it.

Cooking with Lucifer was a calming affair. Alastor greatly enjoyed making meals, even if he barely touched the food himself. Despite a majority of his meals being easy to make and sometimes bland, when it came to older recipes, he seemed to settle in a comfortable sort of concentration, as though falling back into an old habit he once held so fondly. Alastor recognized it with ease, because he often found himself in that same state of quiet enjoyment in one’s craft.

Every so often Lucifer would throw out a sly remark, something that Alastor would bite back on without missing a beat. It was a dynamic that was (there was no denying it anymore) objectively friendly in nature. He hardly got to enjoy things with others, so Alastor would acknowledge that it was nice to cook alongside Lucifer.

(What Alastor refused to acknowledge, however, was how his shadow looped around Lucifer fondly from time to time.) 

“You know, my offer still stands,” Lucifer mentioned out of the blue. Alastor made a curious noise, pausing as he was gathering more spices the king had asked for. “If you ever need my blood to satisfy your hunger, I’m still willing to help. I know I pushed things a little earlier, and I’m sorry about that, but I’m still serious about it.”

When he was first given the offer, Alastor had thought it was simply a way to manipulate or control him. Now with context, however, he found the offer to be a bit more tricky. It was clearly given as a romantic gesture, as odd as it was. Would accepting the offer be a sign of returned affection? Leading the king on, even if unintentionally would no doubt have a most unfortunate outcome, as history had shown him. 

Not to mention, remembering Lucifer’s sultry tone and expression had him uncomfortable, to say the least.

“May I ask why you’re so interested?” Alastor hummed, deciding to explore the topic. “Giving up your blood to relieve a consequence of my own sin hardly benefits you.”

Lucifer’s blush deepened and he looked away. “Oh. Um. I guess I just don’t like seeing one of Charlie’s friends…” He didn’t finish that thought, deciding to look Alastor in the eye and speak with confidence. “Because I want to.”

Alastor canted his head, appreciating the blatant honesty. “As good a reason as any, I suppose.” Despite his calm demeanor, his mouth was watering at the prospect of tasting seraphim blood again. “Although, I do hope you wouldn’t expect anything in return. It’s quite rude for such a ‘generous’ offer to come with stipulations.” 

“Nothing,” Lucifer assured him. “I know you rarely do agreements outside of deals.”

“True.” Alastor was actually considering the offer now. He tried to distract himself by gathering a couple more spices, but he couldn’t help himself. “Satisfying my hunger now would certainly be nice. It would allow me to focus on the flavor of your potage.”

“Uh. Uh! Yeah! Yeah — of course!” Lucifer took this as his cue to undo his bowtie and mess with the buttons of his shirt to better expose his collar. His eagerness was astounding.

Upon seeing Lucifer’s willingness to give himself up in such a way, Alastor began having second thoughts. Now knowing Lucifer’s motivations, the Radio Demon felt as though he were now committing himself to something more private. Only two people had ever let him feed off of them in such a way, and those encounters had always felt more intimate. 

(Even though he had been unwilling with one of them.)

Alastor opened his mouth to stop the king in his tracks, but by then, Lucifer exposed the crook of his neck, and Alastor’s mind came to a screeching halt.

There, planted where Lucifer’s neck met his shoulder, was a bite mark; the very same bite mark that Alastor had given the king during that first delicious encounter. It was healed over, of course, but it was still there. Lucifer could have healed it with ease, but he didn’t. It remained there on purpose. Lucifer had allowed himself to be marked by Alastor.

Rivers of black drool began to drip down Alastor’s chin as his grin grew to impossible heights. His pupils shifted to resemble radio dials, and an ominous creaking was heard as his antlers sprouted several inches higher. His shadow grew behind him, its monstrous form giving only a peek into the manic, bestial, and sadistic haze that was overcoming Alastor’s mind.

Lucifer barely had time to react before he was suddenly pinned to the counter. 

Alastor now understood why he found the idea of taking care of Lucifer so fascinating. It was the same reason why he insisted on preening Husk’s wings himself and keeping Niffty prim and proper: he wanted to own the man. 

Alastor found Lucifer to be undeniably enticing in every way, from his power to his skills to his blood to the very beauty of his demonic form. The idea of being able to have Lucifer as his and his alone was one that had him salivating more than the angel’s blood ever would. To have the king of Hell himself look upon Alastor with devotion was a thought that nearly had his teeth plunged into Lucifer to renew the scar right that instant.

And Lucifer had kept the mark, as if it were some badge of honor; as if he were proud to be Alastor’s little blood bag. He wanted Alastor to possess him. 

A new type of hunger raged altogether within Alastor. It was one that had been plaguing him in small traces throughout the day, and while he had found discomfort in the unfamiliar hunger before, the Radio Demon now found himself embracing it. 

Alastor’s ears were pinned back, a static growl beginning to rise as he eyed that mark and the beautiful expression of shock on Lucifer’s face. The fallen angel stared up at Alastor with wide eyes, his cheeks now flushed with gold as fully witnessed the starving, monstrous creature he was trying to court. 

Alastor was so used to fear from his victims, but that was never Lucifer’s style. No, he fully expected anger and indignation to cross the king’s face. 

He didn’t get that, either.

Instead, a fucking smile lifted Lucifer’s lips, and he freely craned his neck for Alastor to sink his teeth in and renew that mark. 

Alastor didn’t hesitate.

Lucifer had to slap a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out as Alastor bit into him. 

In his first taste of Lucifer, the Radio Demon had given a harsh bite and had not allowed a single drop of blood to escape. 

Now, though? Now Alastor was now ravenous.

He dug his teeth in like a starved wolf, taking in gulps of ichor without thought of how it dribbled down his chin and stained their clothes. Lucifer’s blood was thick like honey and tasted of rich red wine. The notes of apple were so distinct that he finally understood why Eve had been so easily tempted in the Garden of Eden. Every bit of his senses were flooded by Lucifer, soothing his hunger and filling him with a sense of euphoria. His head was filled with a calm hum of static that seemed to wipe away all his worries. Briefly, he acknowledged that he might actually become addicted to the substance, but right now, he couldn’t possibly care.

Lucifer was clearly still taken aback by the assault on his throat, but he didn’t say a word. He removed the hand from his mouth once he’d gotten his breathing and grunts of pain(?) under control. He placed it on Alastor’s back instead and allowed his palm to slowly circle the area in a soothing manner. His other hand rose towards Alastor’s hair, as though he wanted to stroke his fingers through his locks, but even in his ichor-fueled bliss, the Radio Demon wouldn’t have allowed it. The hand had rightfully hesitated before settling on a shoulder, and Alastor couldn’t help the brief thought that, perhaps one day, he would be comfortable enough to allow the undeniably intimate action.

They stayed like this for a couple minutes, with Alastor feeding freely and Lucifer murmuring sweet things under his breath, encouraging the deer to take as much as he needed.

Eventually, as Alastor’s bites and the movement of tongue became more drunken and sloppy, Lucifer needed to put a hold on Alastor’s gluttony.

“Come on, Bambi,” Lucifer whispered, “ease up. You’ve had enough.”

Alastor didn’t recognize the nickname, but it was said with care and affection, and he was reminded of how he received such loving nicknames from his mother or Rosie. It felt nice. 

He took Lucifer’s advice and reluctantly pulled himself away from the king’s neck, his tongue slithering out to lick up the last beading droplets as the wound began to heal over. 

Alastor soon found himself inches away from Lucifer’s face, staring into a pair of solid red eyes. He hadn’t even realized that Lucifer had taken on more demonic features during this time, including the horns that now sprouted from his head and the addition of his tail, which was now wrapped around Alastor’s wrist in an affectionate and almost possessive manner. 

Lucifer was truly a beautiful sight. When Alastor looked into those soft features, he saw affection, devotion, and a promise; a promise to care for Alastor, both emotionally and to soothe that raging hunger. It had an almost possessive spark to it, and Alastor had to wonder how aligned they truly were. The mere thought that Lucifer, Lord of Hell and a seraphim that had once sat at the foot of God’s throne, had decided to bestow his love and light on him, a lowly sinner whose power and status was meaningless to his own, was damn near thrilling. 

Lucifer made Alastor feel alive.

Was this love?

He couldn’t deny himself the truth anymore.

No. 

No, it wasn’t.

Not in the romantic sense, anyhow.

Alastor didn’t need to explain himself anymore; he just knew. He’d always known, and he was tired of pretending he didn’t. 

His smile widened as he took in Lucifer in all his glory. 

He was ready to have that talk now.

“Lucifer…” he began, his voice low and barely tinged with static. He opened his mouth to speak further, but paused when he felt the hand on his shoulder squeeze softly and lift away. The hand found its home on Alastor’s cheek, the thumb gently sweeping along the cheekbone. Alastor’s brow furrowed, lips parted in confusion as he struggled to understand what the king was doing. Slowly, Lucifer leaned forward, his head tilted at an angle. Alastor barely registered what was happening until he felt the angel’s lips start to brush against his.

Alastor yanked himself away so forcefully that Lucifer was thrown forward, nearly crashing into the ground. The king’s instant reaction was to be angry. When he looked up, he almost seemed betrayed, as though Alastor had once again played him for a fool. His expression soon changed to one realization when he saw Alastor pressed against the other counter, his ears pinned back and those red radio dials flitting back and forth rapidly in pools of black.

Lucifer was forced to stumble to his feet when the sinner’s shadow tried to bite his hand off. “Fucking shit — Alastor, I’m sorry. I didn’t — holy shit. I thought you were — I thought we were going to, well, y’know! I—”

“I need to leave.” Alastor’s words were quick and strained, layered in thick static. 

“Wait, Al, hold on,” Lucifer pleaded, taking a step back and putting his hands up in a calming motion. His demonic features had completely disappeared at this point. “I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t realize that you weren’t— fuck, I’m so sorry. I absolutely misread you. I thought you were giving me signals or something, I don’t know; I should have asked. I really should have fucking asked. I didn’t…” He paused, swallowing his words as he seemed to grow more uneasy the longer he looked at Alastor. 

Lucifer visibly struggled to find the right words to say. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

…

..

.

“Wait! Al, hold on!”

Alastor didn’t want to stop; he didn’t want to turn and turn to look at the source of his discomfort. Even in his afflicted state, however, burning from a shower of acid rain, he found that he couldn’t bear to go any further. 

He stopped in his tracks, head down and arms crossed because having them wrapped around his body in self-comfort would be far too pitiful.

“Alastor, c’mon. Look at me, will you?”

The Radio Demon was unable to deny the request, turning in place to stare blankly at the only man in his life, living and dead, that he was able to truly say he could open up to. 

Vox had taken off his bomber jacket and was holding up above his bulky head. The apologetic smile displayed across his screen was strained with desperation. “Al, please, I’m so-o-orry. Just come back.” His voice began to glitch and layered into itself as droplets of acid rain. “We can talk about-out-out this!”

Alastor’s signature grin could barely be called such, having lessened to a mere strip of tightly-clenched fangs. “Go back inside, Vox,” he demanded. “You’re getting rain in your circuits.”

Normally, Overlords as powerful as them would hardly be affected by acid rain, but Vox’s unique biology made him particularly susceptible to one of Hell’s more unique features. 

Alastor had to stop himself from conjuring an umbrella for the poor man. 

It could have given him the wrong idea. 

Again.

Vox gave his friend an incredulous look. “I don’t care about that, Ala-a-a-stor. I care about you.”

The Radio Demon’s gut churned at the sentiment. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not-ot-ot!” cried the TV demon. Even through the rain, the shake in his voice was apparent. “Listen, I’m sorry, okay. I-I-I messed up. We were drinking, da-aaa-ncing, and I — fucking Christ — I thought you were sending signals and — and I didn’t realize!”

Vox tasted like cigarettes and whisky with a hint of saltwater. Alastor hated that he knew what Vox tasted like. He wanted to spit on the ground. He could still feel the electric buzz on his lips.

Everything was going so well. Alastor had been having fun. He enjoyed Vox’s company; being with him was the first time he’d ever felt comfortable and safe around another man.

Why?

Alastor, for once, didn’t know what to say. He turned to leave, causing Vox to drop his coat, lurch forward, and grab his best friend’s hand. “Alastor, ho-o-old on, wai-ai-ait!” 

Alastor spun around to look at the other in shock. Now completely exposed to the rain, Vox was glitching out worse than he’d ever seen before. And yet, he could still make out that desperate smile. He could feel the adoration in the radio waves. It hurt.

Vox’s voice was trembling with apprehension and static. “Alastor, just tell me wha-a-a-t I’m doing wrong, alright? I’ve been trying so hard to change for you and give you what you-ou-ou want and — please, I thought I was doing everything right!”

If Alastor could clench his fangs any tighter, they might just shatter. Vox’s hands were so warm around his. It was awful. “No one asked you to do that!” he hissed.

“Alastor, you make me happy.” Vox’s voice was remarkably clear, a sign that he was putting every fiber of his being into making sure Alastor understood each and every syllable. “I make you happy. I know this because I’ve seen it — in your eyes, in your smile, in your laugh. We’re happy together, Al! I don’t care if you don’t feel the same way, or if you need some space, but I need you to see that.” He sucked in a trembling breath. “Alastor, please.”

At that moment, Alastor knew what it was like to be human again. He was weak and vulnerable. He was scared.

“Vox.” 

The TV demon’s eyes widened. It was the first time he’d ever heard that iconic voice without the radio filter. He dared to hope. “Y-ea-eah?”

Alastor yanked his hand away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The way Vox’s face fell in that moment nearly shook the entire foundation in which Alastor built his carefully-crafted facade. His expression was somewhere between devastation and completely blank. As the seconds passed, Alastor wondered if the rain had finally caused the screen to freeze, or if this was simply all his doing; the result of how he’d hurt Vox because Alastor hadn’t found a way to fix himself in time for his best friend’s confession.

Unable to take the shame anymore, Alastor turned around and left Vox in the rain, forcing himself not to look back as those bright red eyes bore holes into his back.

.

..

…

The sound of antlers scraping the ceiling could only just be heard over the continuous stream of static. Alastor was panicking. Ever since his talk with Rosie, there had been an air of familiarity to everything that Lucifer said and did, and now he knew why. 

Alastor recognized this exact scenario; he knew it by heart. He’d fucked up again, and now, just like last time, he was going to run away like a damn coward. 

She was right. There was something wrong with him. He was doing this to himself, wasn’t he?

Shame and humiliation burned through him as his shadow tugged at his ankle, begging him to slip away and into the comfort and safety of his radio tower. 

The safety of his radio tower? When had he become so pathetic? It didn’t stop his body from starting to dissolve, causing the king to hold up his hands in surrender. Lucifer seemed to grasp the gravity of Alastor’s true discomfort, but unlike Vox, he backed away instead of trying to crowd him and grab him to keep him still. Seeing it actually brought Alastor a level of reassurance, and so he refrained from leaving just yet.

Upon seeing that Alastor was still there, Lucifer let out a quick exhale and tried to gather his bearings. He, too, looked like he wanted to disappear into the void, so at least they had another thing in common. “Fucking shit — alright. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t realize that you were, I dunno! I thought we had something and— fuck.”

Alastor was speaking on autopilot, barely processing the words that were coming out of his own mouth. “I apologize for the disappointment.” His words would have made more sense had there been malice behind them, but instead they were tinged with shame. The radio was a storm of static and jumbled noise, flipping between channels like to cause a chaotic symphony of sounds Lucifer could barely speak over.

Lucifer blinked. “Disappointment? What? No, I—”

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” It was a phrase meant for only him to hear, but in his panicked state, he said it loud enough for the entire kitchen to witness. “I was leading you on, wasn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“What? No. No no, I should be the one who’s apologizing,” Lucifer insisted. When he looked to the side, he saw Alastor’s shadow, curled up and trembling. 

“I should have just complied,” Alastor hissed, wincing at his own words. It felt so hard to swallow. It physically pained him to do so.

Lucifer’s eyes widened. “Whoa whoa — what are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry,” the Radio Demon rasped, covering his face in utter shame. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can’t give you want you want. Don’t hurt me. I can’t do this. I—”

“WHOA! ALASTOR!”

Alastor flinched and slapped a hand over his mouth in shock, grasping the implications of what he’d just spewed out of his mouth. He tried to get a hold of himself, but realized only then that his entire body was shaking and trembling. He could hardly breathe anymore. Swallowing was agony. 

Lucifer was in shock, eyes wide as he seemed to be processing everything that was just said. “Christ — where is this coming from?”

Alastor didn’t know what to say. What was he even supposed to say about that? He didn’t even know, and yet this was all his fault in the first place. He cursed his weakness, looking away to hide his guilt.

Lucifer took in an audible deep breath. “Alastor. Listen to me. I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now, but I’m not — I don’t — you don’t — it’s not your fault!” 

Alastor looked Lucifer’s way, noticing that the devil was nothing but a flustered mess, trying to find the words for what is undeniably a humiliating situation. 

“Bottom line: I should have asked,” Lucifer admitted, his hands making a series of motions as he talked, either to get the point across or help himself concentrate. “I like you, okay? I think that’s been pretty obvious for a while now. And I thought you were… y’know… reciprocating? But I’m not gonna—” He released a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “I’m not gonna hurt you for saying ‘no’! I’m not like that. You should know that by now!” His eyes took on a worried gaze, tinged with hurt that Alastor would even think that he would be so cruel. “I mean… why would you think that?” 

Because Lucifer was king. He should have could have just taken what he wanted by now. 

Alastor struggled to understand why he didn’t.

Alastor didn’t voice his thoughts, and despite his intrusive thoughts, he found himself coming to believe the Father of Lies. His breathing had slowed and he found it easier to swallow again. “I’m sorry, I…” 

The Radio Demon trained his eyes on Lucifer. Those same eyes had looked upon him with such care only a couple minutes ago. Remembering them actually calmed Alastor more than he thought it would. He was certain by now that Lucifer’s affections were bordering on love, and while Alastor wouldn’t be able to return such feelings, it was reassuring to know that with this love came with the promise of safety. Alastor had told far more lies than truths in his time, both on Earth and in Hell, but with Lucifer, he felt as though he could finally be honest. 

He owed it to Lucifer to be honest.

“I need to speak with you about something,” Alastor announced at last, as if neither of them knew what the subject matter would be. “Privately. After supper.” 

There wasn’t any glimmering spark of hope in Lucifer’s eyes, nor were there any flashes of disappointment or reluctance. Instead, he just nodded firmly, keeping a straight face. “Uh, yeah. Alright. After supper.”

Alastor sighed deeply in relief. “Thank you.” Before he could get sucked back into his own muddled thoughts, his shadow got his attention and pointed towards the bubbling pot. “Ah, yes. Let’s finish the potage before it’s ruined.” Lucifer didn’t argue, getting back to cooking.

They no longer had that comfortable silence between them. It was tense, unsure, and filled with questions, but Alastor was sure they would work it out in the end. They had to, because they wouldn’t be able to move forward if they didn’t.

Lucifer loved him, because that’s just how he was: a hopeless romantic who clung onto every crumb of affection, but Alastor now knew such romantic affections couldn’t be returned. That was okay, though. Lucifer had assured him of such, and Alastor believed him. If it turned out that Lucifer was upset by it, then he would just have to grab a drink from the bar and deal with it.

Alastor didn’t need to make up excuses or flimsy explanations for himself anymore. He had known only confidence in himself his entire life, living and dead. He didn’t see why this should be any different.

He looked over for a moment and caught Lucifer’s eye. The devil himself gave Alastor an awkward, but reassuring smile. Alastor watched him for a moment in consideration. His smile dipped slightly, noticing a small discomfort in his own body.

Lucifer must have noticed, because his smile disappeared. “What’re you thinking about?”

Alastor huffed. “I’m thinking about how my back aches because of how short you are. Do you know how low I had to bend down just to bite you?”

Alastor had to refrain from bursting into laughter when Lucifer’s expression flattened. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

“I should have had you sit on the counter like the child you are.”

“You flagpole-looking motherfucker—”

…

..

.

Back when Alastor was alive, love was everywhere. 

It wasn’t all that bad, though.

Contrary to popular belief (“popular” referring to Mimzy and all her little gossip circles), Alastor wasn’t at all repulsed by the idea of romance. There was nothing repulsive about the idea of two people finding happiness together. If anything, he found it quite endearing, and he often found himself wanting that for others. He always hoped that his mother would one day find the kind gentleman she was searching for, and he would be quite content if Mimzy found a man who could match her energy and alcohol tolerance.

When done right, Alastor could always find satisfaction in a good love story; he’d actually narrated a few radio dramas based on fanciful tales of romance. It helped that they were usually a ratings hit.

So no, he didn’t gag at the sight of two people in love, as Mimzy would have others believe. Despite his less-than-legal escapades, he enjoyed seeing people find happiness in knowing that they were no longer alone.

The problem was when people couldn’t seem to understand that Alastor himself liked being alone. Had it not been for his well-honed charm and social skills, he was sure he would have been labeled an outcast or a creep for his preference. 

He didn’t need his older female coworker making teasing remarks about how much of a womanizer he must be as a charming bachelor disinterested in love.

He didn’t need Mimzy sending over her friends to see if one could “reel him in”.

He didn’t need his mother mentioning the occasional cute girl she saw at the park.

He didn’t need anyone, and for some reason, people couldn’t seem to understand that.

Alastor knew what love was. He’d felt it before from his mother and, occasionally, smaller figures in his life. He wasn’t broken, and he knew this, no matter how many doctors tried to tell him that his aversion to intimacy was a result of childhood trauma.

Even still, there were times when he paused. Usually it was during those late nights when he was gutting and peeling the flesh off of some poor sap’s bones, and occasionally when he was cooking said flesh for dinner. He would be feeling more alive than ever, with his very blood singing with the thrill of a good hunt or the prospect of a fine meal, and then he would catch himself in the mirror. 

Stained with blood, he would watch, consider, oftentimes admire, and simply wonder what had caused him to be what he was.

Do not be mistaken — he was happy with who he was. Whenever he fitted a knife into his palm, he felt like he knew who he was meant to be. He still wondered nonetheless.

It always came back to his inability to find romantic connection. Love of the romantic variety was a core piece of society, after all. It was the basis of many books, plays, songs, films, and radiodramas. People fought for it, died for it, killed for it. 

It was part of being human.

So what did that make Alastor?

Even if he didn’t associate his murderous habits with his cravings, the only conclusion he could make was that they were linked.

Out of the millions of children who came into the world and grew up to find happiness with a partner and children, Alastor was the one who would never find a partner and instead grew up to hunt and eat people.

Alastor had come out wrong.

It was an odd, silent conversation he could have with his mirror during these late nights. In the end, he would always move on without a second thought. Why? Because he just didn’t care to think about it.

Even if he may be missing some key elements of the human condition, he knew there was no other half out there to complete him. 

He was whole.

He was happy with who he was. 

.

..

…

And yet…

…

..

.

“Never?” she asked.

“Never,” Alastor confirmed with full confidence, not bothering to look up from his book. If he replied with anything less than complete assurity, it would leave an opening for an invasive needling from her.

He could feel her eyes on him, observing him curiously. “You’ve never wanted someone to have and to hold? Someone you no longer have to pretend around; someone to devote all your time to, knowing they’ll do the same to you without question?”

Alastor scoffed. “I was under the impression you were trying to make this appealing.”

She laughed softly. “You’re so funny, Alastor.” 

Alastor had spent nearly a century building a reputation so grand it would make even the royals of Hell turn a curious gaze, carefully constructing it on a mountain of fear and power. 

And she thought he was so cute and funny for it. 

“It’s a bad hand you’ve been dealt, you know,” she hummed, casting a smile over at him. 

He knew it was bait, and yet he followed it tentatively, finally peering up from his book to bravely look her in the eye. “Whatever do you mean?”

His shadow would have shriveled at the intensity of her gaze, even when she was at her most merciful. Alastor had spared his shadow and locked it away for now; he didn’t want it to become yet another party trick for her to observe and giggle at.

“What God had done to you. He created you without the ability to love,” was her reply. Before you were even born, He’d made you sick and commanded you to be well. Making a creature who can’t love; it’s like you were made to go to Hell.”

That was wrong and she knew it. She had undoubtedly met so many demons like him, and yet she feigned pity for the sole purpose of eliciting a reaction from him. It was a game to her, and Alastor couldn’t help but snap his jaws around the bait.

“I know what love is,” Alastor protested curtly, his skin prickling with wisps of an anger that had been tightly suppressed all this time. Flashes of his mother’s kind features and Rosie’s boundless affections danced across his memory, providing him with the warmth needed to state his objection. “I have loved before; it’s simply never shown for a potential suitor.”

He held her stare, keeping himself from withering even as the chain around his neck tightened. It seemed that his anger had not offended her, though; if anything, it provided her the amusement she craved. “You’re right. You just haven’t met the right person yet.”

“Perhaps…” Alastor looked back down at his book, though it wasn’t like he was going to make any progress on it. He’d been reading the same page for twenty straight minutes.

“One day you’ll find that sick, twisted little soul who will fill your dead heart with joy. Like Rosie.”

Alastor winced. Hard. His reply was automatic. “Rosie isn’t like that.” 

She lifted a brow. “Isn’t she? Have you asked her? I could go ask her for you, if you’re too shy.”

He swallowed, a feeling of fear rising in his chest that was becoming far too familiar. “Keep Rosie out of this.”

Her lips curled into a soft smile. “Oh, but she’s such a lovely woman, and you have so much in common. She shares all your sick, twisted little joys. I’m surprised she hasn’t made you her sixth husband.” She grinned teasingly. “Don’t you ever think about kissing her, Alastor?”

Alastor felt bile rise in his throat. 

He would never admit such a thing to anyone, not even the cannibal herself, but Alastor loved Rosie. He loved Rosie almost as much as he loved his mother, but the thought of pressing his lips on hers made him want to vomit. He never once wanted her in that way. 

“Never,” he snapped, uncaring of his tone. He refused to be a part of this game of hers. “I never have, and I can assure you I never will. The thought of kissing anyone makes me want to flay my own skin from my bones. Does that answer your question?”

He refused to look at her, simply keeping his gaze on his book and rereading that same page. He didn’t need to wait long for a reply.

“Hmm… I believe it does.”

Alastor released the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Good. Thank you.”

Despite the end to their conversation, Alastor could still feel her eyes upon him. They burned as hot as hellfire itself, and he was sure that if he locked with her gaze, she wouldn’t allow him to pull away.

“Alastor, come. Sit by me.”

It wasn’t a request. Alastor resisted a shaky inhale that was rapidly approaching, instead simply marking his book, putting it to the side, crossing over to sit by her, and offering a pleasant smile. “What may I do for you, my lady?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone before, Alastor?” she asked, a motherly lilt to her voice that brought an unwanted relaxation to the sinner’s body. Damn her and her voice. “Chaste pecks from TV demons don’t count, of course.”

Alastor’s lip twitched, but by the grace of God himself, he resisted the urge to melt away and flee.

Not that it would do anything to save him.

“Never, and I am quite fine with that,” he answered.

Her expression was unreadable. Perhaps she was hoping he would elaborate further, but he had nothing else to say about what is a relatively simple fact. 

Without warning she grasped his chin, giggling at how he jolted in poorly-masked discomfort. 

“Kiss me,” she commanded.

Alastor choked. The word “no” lingered on his lips, but whenever he tried to speak it, it became harder and harder to swallow. 

Phantom pains lingered across his skin from the last time he told her “no”.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m afraid I would be a horrible kissing part—“

“I said kiss me.”

His invisible chain was pulled taut at the command. He was left unable to resist, even if his body was kicking and screaming with revulsion.

And so Alastor kissed her.

It was slimy, unpleasantly hot, and went on for far too long. 

When he pulled away, she was laughing. “Oh, that was awful!” she giggled, pinching his cheek affectionately. “You use too much teeth.”

Alastor should be angry; indigent, even. Instead, he was just left hollow and ashamed. “My apologies for the disappointment.”

“Oh, you’re so adorable,” she laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle push. “Lucifer would love you, you know that?”

How was Alastor supposed to respond to that?

“Anyway, don’t be so hard on yourself. I’m sure with enough practice, you’ll be a great kisser. You’re just new to it.”

Alastor’s smile had never been more strained. It hurt so much that he was surprised the edges weren’t already dribbling with blood. “I suppose you’re right.”

A sudden thoughtful expression crossed over her face. She looked at Alastor, and she donned a smile that filled him with nothing but dread. 

“What else are you new to, Alastor?” 

.

..

…

Chapter Text

Lucifer had told himself he would move on the day he found someone who made him feel like Eden.

Throughout the many millennia of his unholy rule, even after Lilith had long since left him, he could still vividly recall the moment he had pushed aside the branches of a bush to reveal a lone woman sat just beneath an apple tree. She’d graced the young planet with a beauty never seen before, and from that moment onward, she was all Lucifer could think about. He could still remember the spark of electricity that zipped through his spine when their eyes met. The melodic lilt of her words that day would never leave his mind, serving to brighten his mood on good days and relentlessly haunt him on his bad ones.

These memories lasted far beyond Eden, though that undying infatuation eventually faded as time passed and the king and queen grew distant from one another.

Lucifer wasn’t a fucking idiot; of course he should have moved on by now. Of course he knew that keeping portraits of Lilith nearby wasn’t making him feel better, and that constantly fiddling with his wedding band wasn’t a good coping mechanism. He didn’t need the other Sins telling him this shit on repeat, and he certainly didn’t need Ozzie trying to hook him up. It wasn’t like Lucifer wasn’t trying; he’d wanted to pull that wedding band off for so long — rip the bandaid off and let himself actually heal for once. 

Whenever he caught sight of his ring, though, he was reminded of what he’d felt in Eden. He longed to experience that again, whether it be with Lilith or someone else. 

As the years went on and the palace grew dustier and cluttered with ducks, he had to wonder if it was even possible to feel Eden again.

And then Alastor came out onto the rooftop on that quiet, rainy day, and Lucifer finally got his answer:

No.

What he felt in Eden would never come back. Lucifer was not the innocent, naïve, eager little angel he was so long ago. He was tired, jaded, apathetic, and oh so very depressed. He would never get that same spark of happiness he had back in Eden, when he’d first met the woman who he believed to be the love of his life. Lucifer could date every sinner and hellborn in the seven rings, and yet he would never find someone who made him feel like Lilith did back in the gardens.

And that was fine.

Would it be great if he could experience Eden again? Yes. Of course. Absolutely. But he didn’t need it to be happy, and by allowing himself to just wallow in his own pity and despair, he was neglecting himself the opportunity to find someone to connect to again. Sure, they wouldn’t be Lilith, but maybe that was the point.

It took him a century to really figure all that out, but better late than never. This probably could have been resolved a lot sooner if he’d gotten a therapist like Charlie had been suggesting for years, but Lucifer was nothing if not a prideful bastard stuck in the old ways. 

And also kind of a dipshit. 

Somewhere, buried under all that age, wisdom, pride, and angelic power, were two lone brain cells fighting for third place.

But that was then, this was now. Lucifer was officially single and had his sights set on a certain Radio Demon.

A Radio Demon who just had a major panic attack in the middle of the kitchen because Lucifer (in his infinite angelic rizz) had unknowingly tried to force himself onto the sinner with a kiss.

Right. That. 

Finally pulled from his thoughts, Lucifer looked up from his bowl to see Alastor staring blankly at the rest of the table. He’d hardly touched his potage. 

It wasn’t much of a surprise; Lucifer found that Alastor would refuse to eat normal foods when he was upset. It was most likely due to the mark of gluttony that stained Alastor’s tainted soul, forcing him to consume the flesh of others, but also because the man was just a psychopath. He craved other indulgences in order to properly stifle the unpleasant emotions bubbling to the surface — such as the suffering and consuming of other sinners — all so he could pass his discomfort off onto another. It was an ugly piece of Alastor’s soul, but not anything Lucifer hadn't seen before.

Lucifer felt an ache in his chest at Alastor’s misery. Usually he would find it at least a little amusing (Alastor was almost never actually suffering with said misery; it was usually a case of wounded pride), but after seeing the outburst the deer had just gone through, he knew that this was different. Alastor had overreacted and been over-dramatic before (again, usually a case of wounded pride), but never to such a raw extent. 

Alastor had thought that Lucifer was going to hurt him for rejecting a kiss. The sinner had never once indicated a fear of the king, but from the tremble in his static and the frantic breaks in his normally refined speech, the fallen angel knew it was a fear that had always existed, lying underneath a mountain of fabricated excuses. And Lucifer had managed to dig it up by trying to kiss him.

Lucifer was confused. Very confused. Alastor wanted to talk about it, though, which he was thankful for. Alastor had always been so avoidant, but now they were about to engage in constructive conversation. You know, like normal people. Crazy, he knew. He actually doubted it would be anything remotely normal, but he still looked forward to having the talk — so much so that he barely touched his food as well.

Right. They just needed to get through supper first.

Lucifer got back to eating, and fuck he wished Alastor wasn’t being moody right then, because he was sure the Radio Demon would be impressed by his skills in the kitchen.

Speaking of the demon: Alastor’s gaze constantly fell onto Lucifer whenever he wasn’t looking; he was only able to tell because there was a prickle on his skin whenever the deer watched him. It was nothing new, but the way the static sensation danced along his skin this time felt far more skittish compared to the intense, concentrated discomfort he was used to. Another sign that something was wrong (not that he needed more proof).

Charlie cleared her throat loudly, her attention on the two powerful entities sitting side by side. “This is really good, Alastor. You and dad work really well together!”

Lucifer choked on his potage. He shook his head as discreetly as he could and a mouthed “no”, but Charlie just winked at him and whispered “I got you.”

Oh, his sweet baby girl was just trying to help, but damn her heart, this was not the time. 

Alastor blinked and shifted his head to glance at Charlie, but from how minute the movement was, he was clearly distracted. “Oh?”

“Yeah!” Charlie encouraged, not realizing her dad was currently panicking on the spot. “You two should get together more often.”

Fucking Christ, Alastor and Lucifer had been doing this dance for well over a month now, and Lucifer only just now realized how unsubtle they were being. Had they always sounded like this? Husk stifled a groan of annoyance like he did every single time he bore witness to Lucifer’s flirting attempts, so the answer was probably “yes”. 

Alastor cocked a single brow. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely!” Charlie encouraged, nudging her dad. “Right, dad?”

The only sound that left Lucifer’s mouth was the agonized “hnnnnnnng” of a man dying of cringe.

Cherri snorted in amusement, Angel silenced himself with a sip of wine, Vaggie hid her face in her hands, and Niffty was rapidly scribbling something down on her notepad that would probably haunt Lucifer’s nightmares if he ever saw it.

As for Alastor? “Well, I’m convinced,” he joked, a normal grin returning to his lips. “How very eloquent of you, Your Highness.”

Lucifer’s heart fluttered at the sight of that relaxed smile, barely registering the thinly-veiled insult. 

Angel was right: Lucifer was so whipped for this man.

Everyone on staff at the hotel knew that Lucifer was trying to pursue Alastor. Of course, Alastor being Alastor, he’d rather play games. He constantly indulged in some of Lucifer’s flirtatious actions, but always pulling away at the last second. So, now everyone was in on it, always trying to trap them in the same room or hook them up in on-the-nose romantic situations.

But Alastor, the bastard, refused to be tamed.

While Lucifer would usually be annoyed by the act, trying to catch Alastor was actually pretty fun. He felt like a hunter pursuing a rare stag, constantly catching glimpses of his prize. Every once in a while he would get close, but the stag would always trot away before Lucifer could touch that soft fur. Specifically the ears. Lucifer longed to be able to touch those ears. He was sure they felt like velvet under his fingers.

One of those ears flicked in his direction, bringing Lucifer back to reality and aware of the fact that he was staring — straight up ogling — his once-rival. 

Alastor was returning the stare, though he didn’t seem bothered by it, something he had every right to be after what happened earlier.

The Radio Demon seemed to be hit with a spark of impatience and tapped on the table thrice with a sharp claw. Lucifer strained to recognize what the signal meant, only to realize it wasn't for him when Niffty discreetly hopped down from her chair and skittered over underneath the table. Alastor lowered the bowl down to her level, and after a quick flurry of inconceivable soup-eating noises, he placed an empty bowl back on the table.

Lucifer was one thousand percent sure the bite taken out of the rim hadn’t been there before.

“Dinner was fantastic, if I do say so myself,” Alastor announced, standing up and stepping away from the table. “Do pardon me for absconding with your father for a moment, but he and I are due for a quick chat.”

Surprised to be put on the spot so suddenly, Lucifer mustered out an awkward “oh, um, yeah, okay” before lifting the bowl to his lips to quickly finish the potage. He choked mid-sip when Charlie gave him a sparkly-eyed look with her lips in a perfect O, but he dropped the bowl entirely at the sight of Angel tongue-gesturing through spread fingers. Thankfully it landed on its bottom and only a couple drops were spilled, and that fumble got him a brow wiggle from Cherri.

The king tried to gesture that this wasn’t what they thought it was, but he was stopped by an impatient clearing of Alastor’s throat. He looked up to see that — fuck, Alastor was cute when he was annoyed. He had this way of narrowing his eyes and tightening his grin that just made the devil swoon, and when that eye twitch came in? Fucking Christ, Lucifer was screwed.

“Uh, where to?” he asked quickly, forgetting about the looks of the people around him.

“Frontal balcony?” Alastor offered.

A curt nod. “Front lobotomy. Gotchya.”

Lucifer momentarily floundered over the uselessness of his brain, but was brought back when a sharp laugh left Alastor. In an instant, Lucifer’s fumbled wordage became a completely intentional joke and he prided himself on being the funniest creature this side of the pentagram.

Deciding to take advantage of the high note, the devil grinned charmingly and gestured for Alastor to follow him through a portal upstairs. Behind him, he could hear Charlie squeal until the portal closed.

They came out the other end to a breathtaking view of Pentagram City. Lucifer had once found the city to be revolting; a beacon of everything wrong with humanity. Now that he was away from it all and able to get out of his own head every once in a while, he had to admit that it was actually quite beautiful. 

Alastor must have agreed because he allowed himself to stand at the balcony’s railing, one arm crossed behind his back while the other hand rested on the (noticeably higher) metal railing. His cane was playing a light jazz tune, one Lucifer recognized as a sort of comfort song that Alastor would listen to when he was angry.

Lucifer came up beside Alastor and looked out over the twinkling pentagram, where Heaven shone from above in a teasing display of what would never be. At least, not for Lucifer, nor most of Hell, but if the robust nature of the city they built was anything to go by, they would learn to manage.

Lilith had done such a good job in helping sinners learn to thrive on their own. Lucifer hoped he could learn to do the same.

Lucifer would be honest: he had no idea what was going to happen during this little chat with Alastor. The Radio Demon was a wild card — a being of pure chaos. The fallen angel was prepared for either rejection or acceptance, but knowing Alastor, the demon would somehow pull out a secret third option. Trying to navigate Alastor was a struggle. It was like being lost at sea, with all his brain cells scattered to the wind in the dead of night in search of something solid to hang onto. Then there was that lone simp cell, driving the ship through the fog to lead all of Lucifer’s dumbest decisions.

He wasn’t going to get his hopes up, but he also wasn’t going to lie down and accept defeat before word was said, as he usually would

If Alastor turned him down, Lucifer was willing to accept that. He was okay with this: being able to stand in silence as they looked out over the Pride Ring in quiet contemplation.

“I have been made aware of your motives by a close friend of mine,” Alastor said at last.

It took Lucifer a moment to register what was said. “Uh, ‘motives’?”

Alastor turned to face Lucifer, hands folded atop the head of his cane. “Correct.” The king shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the cool metal, his full attention on the sinner. “It appears you’ve been trying to court me for quite awhile now.”

Lucifer couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. “Yeah?” This was the first time Alastor had ever acknowledged the romantic tension that the king had been trying to cultivate. It had become a battle of attrition — a struggle to see if he could finally get the Overlord to cave and finally admit that spark was even there at all. “When did you figure that out?” he asked, expecting a teasing or sarcastic answer.

“Yesterday,” Alastor replied, drawing a deep breath. “I had begun to notice your odd behavior over the past few weeks. Your actions had left me confused and, quite honestly, fairly irritated. So, I decided to take this information to my dear friend, Rosie, and she enlightened me to the fact that you’re in love with me.” His radio zipped with agitation. “Admittedly, I was completely blindsided by this information, and I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to approach you about it while gauging my own feelings on the matter.”

As Alastor continued to talk, Lucifer’s smile began to fade as confusion began to settle in. He waited for some sort of reveal; a punchline to a joke that he was slowly realizing didn’t exist.

It wasn’t until Lucifer recognized a spark of shame in Alastor’s eyes that it finally sunk in. 

“Holy shit,” he said with a breathless whisper. “You… didn’t know?” 

Alastor stared. 

Lucifer’s jaw dropped. He ran a hand through his hair with a disbelieving laugh despite his mortification. “You didn’t know?”

Alastor must have felt the bite of embarrassment nipping at his heels, because he became defensive. “No, Your Majesty, I did not know,” he spat. 

A third voice made itself known, located just behind the double doors to the balcony. “No fuckin’ way!” it shouted, quickly followed by a loud “SHHHHHH!” 

Alastor whipped his head towards the door in alarm. “What—?”

Lucifer’s mortification tripled at the voices and he buried his face in his hands, releasing a whining “Nooooo…”

In bewildered anger, Alastor summoned his shadow to throw open the doors and toss into view whomever was listening in. Charlie and Angel were thrown onto the floor, with Angel landing in a suggestive pose while Charlie hit the floor with a teddy bear-like squeak. Alastor spun around to glare down accusingly at Lucifer, who threw his hands up in innocence.

Angel scrambled to his feet before Alastor could even speak, giving the Radio Demon a scrutinizing gaze. “Wait wait wait, did you seriously not know?” When Alastor didn’t respond, Angel bit his lower lip and smartly walked a few steps away, muttering a few swears in Italian.

Lucifer stepped up. “Okay, guys, I appreciate the support, but Alastor and I really need some time al—”

Alastor crossed his cane in front of the king, halting him. “No,” he hissed, pointing his focus on Charlie, who withered under its intensity. “Who else knows about Lucifer’s affections for me?”

Charlie, damn her heart, tried her very best to save her friends, but she cracked under the pressure, giving a squeaking, “Everyone in the hotel?”

Alastor’s eyes widened. Lucifer tried to speak up to save his kid, but despite literally being the King of Hell, something about Alastor’s betrayed glower made him slink back.

“So, what? You’ve just been gossiping behind my back like school children?” he snapped, his cane clenched tightly in his fist.

Angel stepped in, surprisingly chill despite the situation. “Well, we’ve been trying to hook you two up for a while now!” he admitted, looking guilty when Alastor cringed.

How did he think Lucifer felt, trying to kiss a man who wasn’t even aware of his feelings? 

Jesus fuck, he actually did that. What kind of person was he? Well, he was the devil, so it was sort of on brand for— stupid question. Bottom line: he felt like shit for it.

Angel forced a shrug. “We thought you were in on it the whole time! So none of us said nothin’.”

“And what made you think that I would be so perceptive to this game you’ve been playing?” Alastor snapped, eyes flicking to radio dials. Lucifer felt a rise of parental anger flare up inside of him. He didn’t trust Alastor to be civil when those dials appeared.

Charlie winced, holding up her hand to calm her dad before he could scold the Radio Demon. “Well, because it’s you,” she said simply, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. At least, Lucifer thought it was until literally a minute ago. Spotting Alastor’s incredulous gaze, she continued. “I mean, nothing ever gets past you. You always seem to know how to please people, or get them mad; what they like or don’t like, and what makes them tick.” Her expression and tone were purely apologetic. “We just thought you were…”

“Playing ‘hard to get’,” Angel interjected. “I mean, you never told him to stop, so we thought you liked the attention!” Which, in hindsight, sounded like a completely shitty reason to continue with the teasing games.

Charlie was quick to nod in agreement. “And we may have misinterpreted some of your actions, like when you agreed to dance with dad or accepted the duck he made for you.”

By now, Alastor was clearly stewing in humiliation. 

“Yes. I suppose it’s rather obvious in hindsight, isn’t it,” he hissed bitterly. “I do hope this game you’ve been playing has been thoroughly entertaining for you. However, I must take my leave.”

Alastor hardly bothered to answer the chorus calling his name as he melted away into the shadows. 

Charlie groaned into her hand, near tears. “How did we not realize?”

A humorless huff of laughter left Angel. “‘Cause he’s a manipulative prick who always wears a smile to keep people from guessin’ what he’s feelin’?”

“I mean, that, too, but— gah!” She sniffled. “I feel so bad!”

If Charlie felt bad, Lucifer felt fucking awful. Every bone in his body told him to just go up to his room and curl up until the imminent heat death of the universe. 

Now wasn’t the time for self-pity, though. Even if his chances with Alastor were now somehow less than zero, he still almost forced himself onto the guy and unintentionally humiliated him by misreading his actions many, many, many times. He couldn’t leave that stewing, for both his sake and Alastor’s.

“Head back downstairs,” Lucifer sighed. “I’ll go talk to him.” He gave them both a warning look. “And don’t follow me this time, alright?”

He received a couple apologetic smiles before he disappeared into another portal.

Appearing before Alastor’s door (finely polished and with a mounted deer skull), Lucifer knocked and waited patiently. He knew Alastor was behind the door from the continuous hum of static, but the chances of him actually answering were low. The angel noticed something slipping out from underneath the door and was only barely able to step out of the way before Alastor’s shadow came snapping at his feet. “Whoa, whoa! I come in peace!” he insisted.

The shadow was silent, but he knew a growl when he saw one. It clearly wanted him gone, but Lucifer remained in place. “Come on, Al. I just want to talk. Alone, this time.”

A scoff came from behind the door. The shadow scowled and disappeared from view, followed by the encroaching tapping of heels on hardwood. Lucifer took a step back as the door swung open, waving hesitantly. “Uh, hey? I came back to try again.”

Alastor’s glare could wither an oak tree. Lucifer wondered if maybe he should have given the sinner a good five minutes to cool down. 

The Radio Demon stuck his head out to peer down the hallway, as if not believing Lucifer when promised that they would be alone. “Come in,” he ordered, ushering the other in and summoning a couple of those cute black and white monstrosities to guard the room. They were kind of cute, but if he verbalized his thoughts, it would surely have him kicked out.

Lucifer let out a steady exhale, taking a moment to observe the room and ground himself. “Listen, Alastor, I didn’t mean for— I’m sorry, is that a fucking swamp?”

His attention should have been focused primarily on regaining Alastor’s good graces, but some things were just too distracting, like a fucking swamp taking up half of Alastor’s room.

“Bayou,” Alastor corrected stiffly. Lucifer assumed asking for the difference would only lose him points. Either way, it was an absolutely bizarre choice, especially when compared to the surprisingly warm and elegant feel of the rest of the room. Lucifer expected the skulls of sinners to be hanging next to draping entrails, but somehow this felt so much more like Alastor. Bizarre and charming all at once. Chaotic, yet classy. Cold and murky while still being oddly warm and attractive.

“I have spent many years cultivating a rather impressive reputation for myself as one of the Pride Ring’s most dangerous Overlords,” Alastor announced, strolling over to a shelf with his hand reaching for a rather bottle of rye, only to retract and curl into a fist. Soon enough, he was pacing back and forth. “I kill sinners that annoy me. I torture imps because it’s fun. I eat the flesh of others because I enjoy the taste. And yet I find myself pursued by Charlie’s soft-hearted father.”

Lucifer was a little irritated by the fact that he was simply being referred to as simply “Charlie’s father” and not, you know, “Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself”. Then again, it was part of Alastor's charm to be so petty in the simplest of ways. 

He didn’t have to wait long for his title to be recognized, though, because soon Alastor was standing in front of him, bent over his cane to bring himself to Lucifer’s eye level. “A father who, it seems, likes to bring his daughter in on his little games.” His lips were pulled back in a grinning snarl. “Tell me, My King, is this all some sort of joke to you?”

The man in question immediately took offense to the accusation. “What? No!” His laugh was soft, incredulous, and the wrong choice to make, for Alastor’s anger only seemed to flare.

“Is that so? It certainly seems like you’ve been having fun with my inexperience.” He tilted his head, a sharp crack sounding from the sharp action. “Is my fumbling amusing to you? Did you have a good laugh after trying to accost me in the kitchen? Do you find me funny, Your Highness?”

The questions were so pointed that Lucifer had to ask if they were even for him.

“No.” His reply was much firmer and held true weight behind it. “Look, I’m sorry you were embarrassed, but—”

“Embarrassed?” Alastor scoffed, and Lucifer had to hold his tongue at being interrupted. “This is beyond ‘being embarrassed’, Your Majesty. This is about you playing games with me and thinking I’ll simply roll over for you.”

Lucifer sneered up at the sinner. He understood that Alastor was upset, and that it was Lucifer’s fault, but he wasn’t going to allow Alastor to accuse him in whatever paranoid mental breakdown he was going through. “First of all, you’re one to talk! Second, that’s not what happened. I misread your actions, and I feel bad about it. Third, where the fuck is this coming from?”

Alastor’s eye twitched and his smile strained. He took a moment to respond, but when he finally did, his tone was laced with malice. “Am I some sort of replacement for her?”

Eyes widened, Lucifer gave Alastor what could be considered a look of incredulity mixed with warning. “Excuse me?”

“Your wife,” Alastor bit. “Lilith. Do you pursue me as some sort of replacement? Am I simply here to help you get over her, perhaps?”

Lucifer had to take a moment to recover from that question, because damn he wasn’t ready. He’d only just barely gotten over Lilith (being reminded of her still hurt), and now Alastor was here accusing him of using the sinner as Hell’s most psychotic rebound. “No. No.” The fallen seraphim had to take a moment to breathe deep. “You’re not even comparable to my ex-wife. You are nothing like her, and I prefer it that way!”

(Ignoring the fact that both Alastor and Lilith were tall, dark, charming, powerful, had horns, super cute, very talented, had lovely voices — okay maybe Alastor had a right to be paranoid, but Lucifer still stood by what he said.)

“I don’t want Lilith,” Lucifer emphasized, strong in his conviction. “If I did, I’d still be wearing that fucking wedding ring. Alastor, I want you.”

Alastor sputtered. “But why?”

“Why?”

“Yes! Why? Why spend all this time pursuing me?”

Lucifer opened his mouth to answer, his mind screaming at him to not list all the things Alastor and Lilith have in common.

It was time to turn on the Morningstar charm.

“I’ve been trapped in Hell for ten millennia, Alastor,” Lucifer said simply, throwing his hands up. “I’ve literally seen it all. I’m jaded, nothing surprises me anymore, and life fucking sucks. You make my life interesting again. You make me feel alive again. I want that, even if it’s bad for me. Am I wrong for that?”

Alastor fell silent. His visible surprise was draped with a look of understanding. Whatever anger he had seemed to calm upon hearing such a straightforward answer. “Ah…” He nodded, slow. “No. No, I suppose you aren’t wrong for that.”

Holy shit, that worked.

Ironically, he had only said what he knew Lilith wouldn’t want to hear in this situation. Lucifer definitely had a type, but he wasn’t lying to himself when he said that Lilith and Alastor were incomparable.

After waiting to see if Alastor’s temper would flare up again, he released a sigh. “Listen, I’m sorry for what happened earlier. I let my pride get the best of me, and I thought I knew you more than I really did.”

“Clearly,” Alastor snipped, but there was no heat behind it. There was a strained, yet tired air to the words. 

Lucifer grimaced, but moved forward. “I don’t really understand what happened in the kitchen, and I’m not going to pry, but I get that you’re not interested, which is okay. It doesn’t hurt my pride.” Okay, that was a lie. While no rejection can beat the one he received from Heaven, being the most powerful and revered being in Hell and yet still being rejected by a power-hungry sinner like Alastor was a little wounding. He’d survive, though. “We can end the conversation here. I’ll clear everything up with the others and we can forget this ever happened.”

Surprisingly, Alastor didn’t agree right off the bat. Instead, he seemed to be searching for words, shifting in place awkwardly. Lucifer’s attention was immediately caught at this silence. Alastor was many things, but he was never awkward. 

With a twirl of his cane, the demon finally replied. “Now, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.”

Lucifer blinked. “Huh?” 

“If my answer had been an uncompromising ‘no’, I would have said so,” Alastor replied, walking over to the shelf again to pull out a bottle of rye whiskey; the expensive stuff, too. He summoned a glass and poured himself a few fingers. “The possibility of a relationship is something I would like to discuss and negotiate.”

Lucifer was surprised to see Alastor summoning another glass, pouring a generous amount, and offering it to the fallen angel. He preferred something a lot sweeter, but he took it without complaint. He just hoped the growing smile on his face didn’t make him look like a lovesick jackass (Husk’s words, not his). 

“Uhh… alright then!” He forced his excitement to die down and his expression to straighten. “I’m a little surprised. You know, because of the whole… freakout thing.” He hesitated. “What was that, by the way? In the kitchen, I mean.”

Alastor huffed, waiting until he indulged in his drink to answer. “It should come as no revelation that I can be quite histrionic at times.” Lucifer must have looked fairly unconvinced, for the deer amended his statement with another; one that was more vague, but less performative. “It’s… complicated.”

The answer was unsatisfying, Lucifer he wasn’t going to force Alastor to explain something that (if he was reading the signs correctly) was some sort of trauma response. Lord knows the devil had his fair share of them.

He just shrugged off the answer with an “alright” and moved on. “I’m ready whenever you are, then,” he informed, punctuating it with a sip and trying not to wince at the bitter taste.

Leaning against his desk, Alastor considered his next words, swirling the amber in his glass idly. “After I was made aware of your affections, I’ve come to realize that there are certain aspects about you that I find desirable.”

Lucifer bit his lower lip to keep an excited smile off of his face, but the audible waver in his “Oh yeah?” gave him away. 

To his delight, a soft chuckle left Alastor’s lips. His frame was also visibly less tense than before.

“I do,” the sinner admitted, quieter than usual.

“Wanna tell me what those things are?” Lucifer pried with a sing-song lilt.

Alastor arched a brow, his glass lifted to his lips. “Does Lucifer Morningstar, Pride incarnate, really need a rundown of what he can bring to the table?” 

Said Pride incarnate tried and failed to keep the breathlessness out of his voice. “Yes.”

“Hmm.” Alastor put his cane aside and lifted away from the desk, sauntering over smoothly. “Well, for one, I find it appealing just how short you are.”

Lucifer’s face fell harder than he had from Heaven. “Oh.”

“You’re so easy to rile up, too,” Alastor teased.

If Lucifer could roll his eyes any harder, they would be dice. “Okay, you can stop.”

“Seeing you flounder about in social interactions is hilarious.”

“Al.”

“You’re also just about the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

“You’re killing me, Al.”

“And you’re so delightfully pathetic when you let your emotions get the best of you!”

“I hate you. So much right now.”

“But!” Alastor stopped just in front of Lucifer, allowing bending at the hip to bring himself to the king’s eye level. “I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that which makes you so… enticing.”

Could anyone blame Lucifer for thinking Alastor had been in on the whole thing? His intonations and wording always had an alluring aspect to them. He always knew what people wanted to hear (even if he didn’t quite understand these wants and its consequences entirely, as Lucifer now knew). 

“Well now, don’t keep me in suspense,” he encouraged, a grin slipping back onto his face. “I’m all ears.”

There was a moment of tension as Alastor tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, his gaze drifting away from Lucifer’s and to his temples.

The very earless fallen angel bit his cheek. “It’s a fucking expression.”

“Well, for what you lack in ears,” Alastor hummed, locking his eyes with Lucifer’s once more, “you more than make up for. Your power. Your skills. Your blood. Your very presence. I can’t help but feel a sense of reverie when I look upon your demon form. Hidden beneath the layers I find so irritating is a creature I can’t help but respect. And my respect does not come easy, Your Highness.”

This was all new information to Lucifer, and holy shit did it feel good to hear. Not only were they validations, but they also worked to itch his ego. “Did your ‘friend’ help you figure this out, too?” he joked, thoroughly enjoying being lathered in praise. 

“Mmm, always so funny, little deviant.”

Was that a nickname? Shit, Lucifer could definitely get behind that. 

“So we’re adding ‘hilarious’ to the list of things you find irresistible about me?” he asked slyly, lips curled into a teasing smile.

His teases felt silent as dexterous fingers took hold of Lucifer’s chin, lifting it some as though he were being inspected. Any normal sinner would have been launched through the window for the disrespect. And yet, he allowed Alastor the honor of handling him like this. 

Why? 

Because it was hot. 

Because Alastor was a creature who craved control. It exhibited itself in every little movement he made. It was built into his very soul. As much as Lucifer embodied his cardinal sin, he knew trying to put Alastor in his place would only drive the sinner father away than where they’d started. 

Not to mention, Alastor’s “place” under the king was to be brought into question. Lucifer may have been many times more powerful than Lilith’s mortal soul, but he considered her to be nothing less than an equal.

So, he would let Alastor have his control. It may have been an illusion, yes, but Lucifer found he enjoyed the lilt of Alastor’s domineering voice and his purposeful touches far too much. 

“You’re quite the prize, Your Majesty,” the Radio Demon purred. “I—”

“Lucifer,” he corrected, breathless. “Enough with the formalities. Please, just call me Lucifer.” 

Alastor had never once said his name before. If the Radio Demon truly did find so many things desirable in him, then he had earned the fucking right to hear his own name on the sinner’s tongue.

There was a trace of a chuckle in Alastor’s hum. “Alright then, Lucifer.”

Yup. That sent a shiver down Lucifer’s spine, alright.

Deep red claws came up to rake through Lucifer’s blond locks, gently grazing against his scalp in a way that was oh so pleasing. Try as he might, he couldn’t suppress the shudder that zipped through him, because holy fuck that felt good. His face must have shown how quickly his resolve was melting, because Alastor’s grin stretched to new heights. A soft “delectable” left Alastor’s lips in a breathless sigh and Lucifer’s knees almost buckled on the spot.

Delectable. He was delectable. If asked Lucifer would probably let Alastor eat him or something, because damn did he like hearing Alastor salivate over him in the most fucked up way possible. It stimulated a need that laid dormant for so long.

He missed affection, he missed attention, he missed cuddling in bed, he missed romantic dates, he missed sex; just these few moments with him and Alastor were scratching that long-suffering itch and he wanted more.

“I would say I’m honored that I find myself as the object of your affection,” Alastor murmured, “but you should be the one patting yourself on the back for choosing a proper paramour.”

And that pride. Lucifer could appreciate a self-serving attitude when it was earned. Alastor wore his pride so shamelessly, and damn did he wear it well. While he’d once found it so tacky, the way it draped over his shoulders like a mink shawl was now straight up endearing to the king.

Of course, Lucifer had to make sure he was always there to humble the bastard.

Not yet pulling away from the grip on his chin, Lucifer gave the Radio Demon a lazy once over. “What can I say? I love old, tacky antiques. They’re a little useless nowadays, but still nice to look at.”

A displeased buzz of static emitted from Alastor’s chest and his eyes narrowed. “From what I’ve seen, you want far more than just something to ogle at.”

Lucifer offered a cheeky smile and a hum of consideration. “Hmm, perhaps.” He took up the hand that held his chin, drawing it away and giving it a firm squeeze. Alastor grew tense, but didn’t pull away, watching with curious eyes. “Might I assume the same from you?”

There were no playful comments returned by Alastor. He seemed to be too lost in the moment, eyes trained on their connected hands. Instead, it seemed he endeavored to answer the question in full.

“Sinners and hellborn alike would salivate at the opportunity to draw your gaze unto them,” Alastor replied, a strange intensity coming to his gaze. “There is much I want from you, Lucifer, but to simply own such a glorious, unholy being is enticing.”

Lucifer arched a single brow, his grin stretching. “Oh ho? Own?”

The sinner was unapologetic in his desire to capture such a powerful being beneath his claws. “Yes, own.” The hand that Lucifer held was broken, only for them to find each other once more with a smooth lacing of their fingers. The hold was not tender, but tight and possessive. “I simply loathe the thought of anyone else getting as close to you as I’m allowed here and now. Anyone else who finds themselves holding your affection will be devoured, regardless of your protests.”

A heat curled within the seraphim’s core as Alastor’s other hand came to trace around the crook of Lucifer’s neck, where the bite mark had been hidden by cloth but was still very much there. Keeping it had once been a tactic to entice the Radio Demon, meant to be washed away once the sinner was his. He hadn’t considered it as a mark of ownership, but the way Alastor was speaking so possessively to him now was making him consider keeping it for good. 

Alastor was gradually growing closer, leaving very little space between them. The warmth that radiated from his body was almost addictive, and Lucifer had to keep himself from grabbing onto that temptingly thin waist and closing the gap. The Radio Demon wouldn’t have appreciated it. Alastor was hot, but earning his trust and consent was hotter. Indulgence would only lead to him being pushed away, while restraint would (hopefully) get him railed.

“I desire every piece of you,” Alastor rasped, his voice damn near a purr. “Everything you have to give, I want it all for myself. Your attention, your affection, your power, your devotion; anything this godlike being before me can offer, I will take with reverence.” 

Lucifer was sure Alastor was religious in his past life, for his words were both a demand and a prayer; a staked claim and an act of worship all in one. And fuck did it feel good to be worshipped.

The sinner tilted his head in a way that could almost be considered demure. “Is it so wrong of me to want that for myself?”

Lucifer swallowed thickly. “Nothing wrong at all.” Alastor’s hum was a low buzz of feedback that was pleasant and even soothing on the ears. Lucifer wouldn’t mind falling asleep to it, curled up in the warm, lanky arms after a long day. 

Under an apple tree perhaps.

Lucifer wanted it all so badly, but a question still hung in the air.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Lucifer questioned at last. As much as it hurt to break away from the moment — one he could almost consider intimate — something still nagged at him, and he could tell it nagged at Alastor, as well. 

Alastor stiffened and pulled away, as if caught. With one arm behind his back and a quickly draining glass in the other, he let his gaze drift over to the bayou. One could faintly hear the chirping of crickets from this distance, something Alastor seemed to take comfort in. “I…”

Those sharp ears pinned back, and Lucifer held his breath with rapt attention. Alastor was hesitating. Alastor didn’t hesitate. He spoke with grandeur, conviction, theatrics, and nothing less.

Bringing his focus back onto Lucifer, the Radio Demon returned with that, purposeful cadence. “I am unable to form romantic connections.”

Lucifer blinked and broke into a small laugh, bringing the glass of rye to his lips. “Oh, yeah, of course. Because you’re a big bad Overlord with a reputation to keep.”

“Lucifer. I’m serious.”

The smile slipped from Lucifer’s face when he saw the stiff look Alastor wore. The sinner looked so uncomfortable.

“Oh.” He lowered the glass. “I… don’t understand.”

“In all honesty, I have a hard time understanding it myself,” Alastor sighed, gazing down at his drink. “However, it’s been a constant all my life, both living and dead. Now, I am still interested in discussing a potential relationship, but…”

The look Alastor gave Lucifer was firm. “I can’t love you the same way you love me.” 

Oh. Okay then.

That might be a bit of a hurdle.

He decided to take a moment to process. He considered Alastor's words, mulled over them, and then nodded. “Alright then. Thanks for letting me know."

The demon seemed surprised Lucifer took it so well. Admittedly, he didn’t really understand the concept Alastor was putting down, but Alastor was a grown adult and over a century old. It was safe to say he knew himself at this point.

A static hum of contemplation rested in the air. “Does that disappoint you, Your Highness?”

Lucifer was mildly surprised by the question. Rarely did Alastor care about what he approved of. “Well…” He thought about the best way to phrase it, but Alastor seemed to appreciate Lucifer when he was at his most bluntly honest. “Yeah. A little,” he confessed. “But, I mean, that’s okay.”

Alastor tilted his head. “Is it?”

The doubt was warranted. Lucifer was nothing if not a hopeless romantic, after all. He still held onto his wedding band, even decades after he and Lilith had finally split apart, hoping that maybe she would have a change of heart and come back to make everything better again.

Was it a little disappointing to hear that Alastor would never feel the same way? Yeah, it stung, but when he asked himself if his love for the sinner still remained, the answer was immediate.

“Of course,” Lucifer assured him. He downed the rest of his rye and nodded when Alastor offered to pour him a second. “I didn’t go into this with the expectation that you would be everything I ever wanted and more. Would it be nice if you could feel the same way?” He shrugged. “Yes. It would also be nice to see Heaven again and have my depression cured, but those aren’t realistic expectations, are they?”

He stepped closer and offered his free hand. After a moment of hesitation, Alastor took it, curiosity ever present. His hand was so large compared to Lucifer’s, and yet they seemed to slot together perfectly. The fallen angel’s thumb ran gently over dark knuckles. He was met with tension, but his patience was rewarded as it soon made way for slow relaxation. 

“I’ve learned to be happy without them,” Lucifer told him. “I’m confident I can be happy with you, too, despite how you feel. Or don’t, in this case. So, no, I don’t mind the fact that you won’t be able to love me the same way I love you.” He lifted Alastor’s hand to his lips, giving the back of it a soft kiss. “Just as long as you’re okay with being loved.”

Alastor’s eyes were trained on every little movement, flitting between Lucifer’s gaze and the undoubtedly loving gesture. His grin was stretched taut, but he didn’t move to pull away or resist when Lucifer turned his hand over in with his smaller ones and placed another kiss on the center of his palm. 

His words were said in a low rasp, barely a whisper steeped in static. “It’s certainly something I can get used to.”

Despite his smooth words and air of confidence, Lucifer was sure he had a heavy gold blush over his cheeks. His grip tightened in a reassuring squeeze. “Good. Just as long as you’re not getting it from anywhere else.”

Alastor’s brow lifted. “Pardon?”

The devil barked out a laugh, a few flames slipping out and barely nicking Alastor’s hand. Alastor tensed, but he didn’t seem displeased. If anything, he seemed curious by the feeling.

“You can’t just talk about owning me and think I won’t want the same loyalty,” Lucifer snickered, squeezing Alastor’s hand tight. “I’m Lucifer fucking Morningstar, King of Hell and sin of Pride himself. I don’t share, Alastor.”

Despite the heavy claim on him, Alastor didn’t argue, merely watching Lucifer with curious eyes. Most would take his narrowed eyes as a dangerous warning, but Lucifer knew better. The fact that the sinner wasn’t pulling away or even insulting him was a good sign all around.

Despite all the heat that was curling up in his gut from Alastor’s passionate confessions, Lucifer felt content. Happy, even. Alastor seemed to genuinely want something with him, which was more than he could stay for Lilith in the last couple centuries of their relationship. While he understood that he would never have what he had with Lilith again, he was okay with that; happy without it. It was just nice to have someone want him back for a change.

“Great.” He squeezed Alastor’s hand while offering a playful smile. “It’s a deal then?”

Alastor’s eyes widened and he yanked his hand back as though Lucifer’s touch burned him. “No deals,” he snapped, visibly upset.

Lucifer laughed at Alastor’s reaction. “Relax, bellhop. It’s just a joke.” When Alastor’s tense posture didn’t fade, he donned a more serious expression. “It was just a joke, Alastor.”

“I understand that.” That was questionable. “I just don’t want any expectations to come from this.”

Mister “I want to own every piece of your existence” wasn’t a fan of obligations, it seemed. Lucifer got the gist, though. He wasn’t going to force Alastor to do anything he didn’t want to, something the deer took as a genuine concern. It may take them until 2042 to get to the hand-holding stage, but damn it, he was happy to wait for it. “No expectations.”

Alastor’s stare was cautious. “I don’t want anything I can’t back out of.”

Lucifer frowned, feeling a little tired of Alastor’s paranoia. “I understand. That’s not how relationships work.”

A sneer. “I need to be sure. Just in case you become… disappointed with what we have.”

“That’s fine. If things aren’t working out, I’ll just call it off,” said Lucifer, crossing his arms. “I’m not going to make you stay or anything. You have a choice.”

“Do I?”

The king’s body went rigid. He gave Alastor an incredulous stare. “Excuse me?”

Any fondness in their conversation had quickly died over the course of just a couple minutes, and now Lucifer was trying to settle a ruffled Radio Demon.

Alastor took a step back, setting his glass to the side as his glare hardened. “I’m just asking a question, Your Highness. After all, Hell’s beloved monarch with a lowly sinner? I’m sure there are plenty of expectations you might have.” 

Lucifer wasn’t a fan of Alastor acting like he was the pompous asshole. His tone was flat and stiff. “I’m not like that and you know it.”

“So you say. You certainly expected a lot from me in the kitchen.”

“Oh, for the love of — that was a mistake!”

“Was it, though?”

A spark of fire lit up in the back of Lucifer’s throat at the accusation. “You need to calm down,” he warned. 

Alastor lips peeled back in a predatory snarl, hackles raised. “Don’t tell me what I will or won’t do.”

“Fucking Christ, Al — you can say no! I’m not going to hurt you for it.”

“So you say.”

“Where the fuck is this coming from?”

“I refuse to believe you’re such an ignorant bastard.”

“I like you, Alastor, but you will not talk to me that way.”

“You sound just like her.”

“What? What the fuck are you talking about?” Beyond bewildered, Lucifer was just about ready to leave the room and save this conversation for a time where Alastor’s bitchy trust issues weren’t on overdrive. “Who the fuck is ‘her’?”

Alastor seemed to realize he’d made a mistake and stopped talking. Hell, he wasn’t even looking at him. Lucifer wasn’t having it. “Listen, asshole, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you can’t just accuse me of trying to trap you in a deal and then compare me to someone I’ve never—”

Then it clicked.

All anger fell silent and Lucifer found his mouth agape in shock. Alastor seemed to realize he’d been found out and quickly regained his composure, attempting to dismiss his own behavior with a few nonchalant words. He couldn't get a single sound out.

Lucifer said not a word, slowly bringing a hand up and pressing his middle finger and thumb together.

Alastor’s eyes widened in alarm. “Lucifer, wait—!” 

He didn’t listen, snapping his fingers without a second thought.

A wave of powerful energy shot through the room. Alastor’s physical form wasn’t affected, but it sent a shock through his very soul, forcing it to reveal that which he had kept hidden for so long.

What was presented to Lucifer was a horribly beautiful sight.

Alastor looked so monstrous, but he looked right in a way. He’d grown in size, looking gaunt, spindly, and uneven, all the while shadowy tendrils spilled from his back. That once pleasant hum of the radio was now going haywire, in tune with the sinner’s distress. His antlers had sprouted out in a large, deadly rack of bone, his teeth seemed sharper, his hair stood on end, his death mark glowed over his brow, and his eyes once more resembled crimson dials in black pits. Stitches appeared at the edge of his smile, hoisting it into that trademark grin and silencing his tongue from revealing secrets that didn’t belong to him.

Every piece of Alastor’s eldritch form seemed to fit him perfectly. Even the stitches had this feeling of rightness to them that would make one question who had truly put them there.

Lucifer felt a tingle of familiarity at the monstrosity before him. He’d pushed aside the brambles of a dying bush to see this thing: a scourge upon the Earth and one of God’s greatest mistakes.

For a moment — a brief flash of longing — Lucifer thought Eden. It was a dark, sinful bastardization of the memory, but dance of static on his skin and the sting of electricity hitting his spine upon eye contact brought about sense of warning that was too much  to ignore. It dared him to take hold of such a dark temptation, even if the consequences would leave him battered, bruised, and forever craving more.

The one thing that the didn’t belong was a collar that clung to the beast’s neck, displayed proudly and in a very familiar shade of purple.

Alastor resembled a wild animal that had been caught and caged, and that’s exactly what he was. He was a feral, ravenous creature that had been tricked, collared, and chained to the ground until he learned his place. 

The Radio Demon lowered his head, but was unable to look away from Lucifer, his ears pinned flat in shame. He was a creature of chaos that never meant to be anyone’s pet, but the slow, forceful domestication he was being put through had clearly taken root in everything Lucifer had seen that night. Every thought, action, and fear influenced by a wicked hand went to show just how well Alastor was being trained. 

Lucifer stared at this beast silently, a haunted look etched onto his face as he took in that deep plum color of the leash. He’d expected to see a collar and chain, but he hadn’t been prepared for the very familiar energy radiating in that plum glow, the same color he once adored seeing adorning his last love’s beautiful frame. 

There was no mistaking whose it was. 

Lucifer really wished he’d just been rejected instead.

“You know… I always had the suspicion that you didn’t own your soul, but…” Lucifer’s laugh was utterly devoid of humor. “Fucking Christ was I played like a fucking fiddle.”

He approached slowly, gesturing for Alastor to lower himself to his height. Physically unable to change back for the moment, the Radio Demon kneeled, his breath hitching when Lucifer grabbed onto the chain. 

Testing the heavy weight in his hands, Lucifer allowed his thumb to run over the thick links. Hundreds— no, thousands of questions were running through his mind at that moment. Many of these questions were made with concern, just wanting to know that his missing ex was alright. These questions were always paired with feelings of red hot anger and betrayal. 

He thought back to every interaction he’d ever had with Alastor, and he had to wonder if any of them were even real. Was this real? The sinner was just some pawn under his ex-wife’s control; how was he to know what was truly Alastor and what was Lilith acting out little performances through him?

He looked into Alastor’s blackened eyes. They were filled with shame, embarrassment, and even traces of fear. It was nothing like the brash, teasing tone put on in their first meeting. Had that been completely manufactured? Was this the real Alastor? 

A spike of anger visibly shot throughout the demon. “Take a picture,” the radio snapped. “It’ll last longer. Don’t tell me your memory’s gone in your old age.”

Lucifer had never been more thankful to hear a bitchy insult. Okay, so he really had been talking to Alastor, and not some fancy puppet.

Of course, that did nothing to answer the vital question that still hung in the air.

“Why?”

Alastor opened his mouth to speak, but then those threads tightened and his jaw clamped shut with a click. His grin was stretched wider to the point where he was clearly in great pain. 

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Lucifer murmured, staring back down at the chains. He could feel Lilith’s energy thrumming through every link. He could force Alastor to speak if he wanted to, but with an actual soul deal behind his silence, doing so might actually kill the sinner, Overlord or not.

His focus remained on the chain, slowly trailing the length of it and up to Alastor’s neck. By the time he met that last heavy loop, a thought came to his mind. One that just said ‘yeah. This sounds like Lilith.’ 

Although Lucifer had always been opposed, Lilith was never afraid to have a few of their subjects sign away their souls. As an absentee king, he had no real right to tell her otherwise, but fuck was he regretting his silence now.

“All this time…” Lucifer murmured, his hand coming up to trace the collar. Alastor flinched when he did so, causing some pause, but he soon relaxed and allowed the angel to observe his shame. “I finally fucking move on… I found you… and yet she still took you away from me.”

There was no way she could have known he would fall for someone as sick as the Radio Demon, but with the irony of it all, it felt almost cruelly intentional.

Well, there was only one thing to do in this situation.

Taking in a deep breath, Lucifer took a steady hold of the chain with both hands and clenched them until his knuckles were about ready to rip right through his skin. His rolled his shoulders to release his tension, and with a flick of his head, his horns burst from his skull and his tail flicked into view. His wings were on full display, allowing Alastor to bask in the majesty of such beautiful angelic design.  

The sinner went rigid, no doubt feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes on his skin, witnessing him inside and out. “What are you—?”

Lucifer hushed him softly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

The deer and his radio both went quiet. Usually sinners would be alarmed to see their king transform in front of them, but either Alastor was experiencing his own quiet form of terror, or he trusted Lucifer not to harm him. 

Lucifer liked to think it was the second option.

Closing crimson eyes, Lucifer concentrated on the chains in his hands. Alastor was undoubtedly experiencing an intense magic begin to flow from the seraphim’s arms and into the chain, coming in pulsing waves that had the Radio Demon shuddering from the intensity. A touch of gold crept up through the chain from where Lucifer held it. It was painfully slow, but notes of angelic power spidered up the links, forming little cracks. They sought every little inch of leeway the deal gave, allowing breaks to form. 

Alastor choked as the collar around his neck tightened, as if it could recognize that Lucifer was trying to free him. Lilith must have felt the interference and was pulling that leash tight. The fallen angel sneered at the sight and didn’t hesitate to pour more of his energy into the leash. 

It was as the angelic energy was reaching the actual collar that he felt himself actually straining to continue. Lucifer was more powerful than his wife ten times over and then some, but she was still stronger than every sinner and hellborn within the seven rings, and soul deals were near impossible to break on their own. As the plum collar began to develop golden cracks, resistance to his command grew, and he was soon putting in more power and concentration into this one task than he had in literal centuries.

The collar was quickly filling with breaks and cracks. Alastor was trembling in pain from being an unwilling conduit for a battle between holy light and his irreversible, but Lucifer softly assured him that it would all be over soon.

He closed his eyes, picturing the root of the chain bound to Alastor’s monstrous, tainted soul. The sinner’s blackened heart, a representation of everything wrong with humanity, now bound in purple chains and void of the free will Lucifer had given him in the first place. 

The king could feel the binds start to break and loosen, the links barely hanging on by thin metal vestiges. He poured his holy light into this disgusting, unholy being molded by the tainted hand of humanity, commanding that the sinner be allowed to make the choices that landed him in eternal torment in the first place. Said choices may have led Alastor to his chains in the first place, yes, but let it be known that Lucifer had become just as prideful and selfish as Heaven had made him out to be all those millennia ago.

Lucifer would not be denied what he wanted.

The cracks grew.

Lucifer strained. 

The chains splintered.

Wisps of smoke poured from clenched fangs.

The tension reached its peak.

His breathing labored.

Alastor whimpered.

The world began to spin.

The ground became uneven.

A heaviness blanketed his body.

He let go.

Alastor didn’t hesitate, catching Lucifer before the king could crash to the ground.

Lucifer hadn’t even realized how much of his own energy he was using until he finally registered the ceiling above him. Alastor stared down at him, his expression unreadable.

Despite feeling unbearably weak and craving his annual month-long nap, his very first thought was to look up at Alastor’s neck.

Sure enough, the collar was still there, flawless and unbroken. It had repaired itself in an instant, and unless Lucifer was more out of it than he thought, he was sure it had come back stronger than before. 

“Oh…” He reached up and grabbed the chain, one of the only things in all of Hell that refused to bend to his will. He refocused on Alastor, who seemed to only regard him with shock. “I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of quiet. 

“You were trying to free me…” Alastor’s words were devoid of emotion.

Lucifer blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I was.”

Alastor helped the king come back to a stand, his own body finally going back to its normal size and state. Even still, his voice remained rigid and breathless. “Without a second thought, you tried to free me.”

The angel stared at him. “I did.”

There hadn’t been a moment of hesitation. Even if he was unsuccessful, there was something to be said about his readiness to free the sinner. 

“Why?” Alastor’s unreadable stare bothered Lucifer, but he was more focused on the collar, watching it disappear into secrecy. 

Some may protest his decision, given that Alastor was a mentally unstable cannibalistic Overlord, but that wasn’t going through Lucifer’s mind at the time. Would he have interfered if it were any other sinner? No, but something about seeing Alastor on a leash had stoked something deep within the fallen angel. It was prideful, easy to anger, even somewhat possessive, and it refused to be denied what it wanted.

Ten millennia ago, Lucifer would have been appalled by his hypocrisy. Then again, ten millennia ago, Lucifer would have never pursued a sinner as horrid as Alastor.

“Because I love you,” Lucifer said simply, as though the answer was obvious. 

“And I don’t.”

“That’s okay.” 

No longer woozy, Lucifer glanced at where the collar sat heavy on Alastor’s shoulders, invisible to the world. “I can try again later, if you want,” he offered, his more demonic features fading away.

Alastor’s brow furrowed initially, but his features soon softened. “No,” he murmured. “I don’t think you’re able to break it, and trying will only make her angry.”

Lucifer winced. Hearing that about his ex-wife, a woman he’d loved for so long, hurt. He didn’t want to believe it, but he trusted Alastor; at least, he trusted him far more than he trusted Lilith right about then. “Right.”

Alastor rubbed his throat for a moment, as if trying to recall what freedom felt like. “Thank you for trying, though. I… appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Lucifer looked Alastor up and down, managing an awkward smile. “So, uh… do you want to keep talking about you and I, or have we spoiled the mood?”

Surprise seemed to be the only expression Alastor was capable of that night. “Even though I don’t own my soul?”

“I mean, it makes me angry, but…” Lucifer shrugged. “It doesn’t put me off. I like you and I still think you’re hot.”

This actually got a laugh from Alastor, whose smile had now become more wry. “I’m not quite sure I understand, but thank you nonetheless.” He let a beat pass. “I really would like to start something with you, Lucifer. I’m not sure what we are, but I trust you to be my partner.”

Lucifer couldn’t stop the smile that was quickly overtaking his features. “Uh, great!” Smooth. “I— uh…” All his finely-tuned romance skills were nowhere to be seen. Lucifer just picked up Alastor’s hand. “Can I kiss your hand? Or your cheek or something?”

“My cheek?” Alastor scoffed. “And how do you expect to reach up here?”

Keeping in mind all the reasons why he’d fallen for Alastor in the first place, Lucifer replied, “You can help me out? Do your part in this partnership?”

“Oh, my apologies.” Alastor bent forward in the most condescending way possible with his hands on his knees, as though he were speaking to a child. “I shall receive your kiss now, Sire.”

So taken aback was Lucifer that he let out a loud “pffffft” before bursting into laughter. “Fucking asshole,” he snickered, lightly shoving the other’s face out of the way. “Great, now I’m not in the mood.”

Alastor chuckled inspected his overcoat for flaws. His humor still seemed dampened by the evens of the last few minutes, but he seemed better, in a way. “Well, we should no doubt get back to Charlie and the rest. I’m sure she’s quite worried.”

Oh fuck, Lucifer completely forgotten about her. He began to motion to make a portal, but then noticed the sinner gesturing to the door. The angel usually wasn’t a fan of taking the long way, but he sure as Hell didn’t mind spending a few more minutes alone with Alastor.

As soon as they were on their way, Alastor remarked, “And I don’t think I need to ask that we keep what you saw a secret?” 

Lucifer returned a hesitant “For now.” Eventually Charlie would need to know. Her trusted hotelier was actually a pawn of her mother, sent for a reason he couldn’t say. This very much concerned her. “You and I will go over as much as you’re able to before we talk to her.”

Thankfully, Alastor seemed to understand. He was clearly unhappy about it, but he didn’t protest.

It was as they were going downstairs that Lucifer spoke up again. “There’s still a lot we need to figure out with our… partnership? Later on you can stop by my room. If you want. And we can talk about it. Just talk. Nothing else.”

Alastor at least seemed amused by how unsuave Lucifer could be, even in the best of times. One moment he’s the Apple of Eden, the first temptation and source of all sin, and the next he acts like he drinks lead paint as a hobby.

When Alastor hesitated, though, Lucifer could tell it wasn’t because of his fumbling. “Speaking of your private quarters, I must inform you…”

Lucifer held his breath, ready for whatever surprise was up next. Nothing could be worse than the collar reveal, so he maintained a straight face. “Yeah?”

Instead of finishing the question, Alastor just let out a huff of frustration. “I know that self-deprecation is an uncommon path for me, but I just don’t understand how you find…” he gestured down the length of his body, “this to be sexually attractive.”

Lucifer refrained from mentioning how badly he wanted to grab those antlers from behind as the sinner was bent over so pliantly in front of him. 

“Well, I’m not sure how else to explain it, but…” He shrugged. “Everything just… works. The clothes, your form, the way you talk, the teeth, the antlers, the— you get the idea. But it’s also just some of the things you say. The things you do.”

Alastor didn’t seem too satisfied with the answer. Or he simply just didn’t understand. “The things I do? Such as?” 

How was Lucifer supposed to say “I find the way you could take down an elk with only your teeth pretty hot” without sounding like a complete psychopath?

He had to come up with something remotely normal.

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to see you in your nun schtick in bed,” Lucifer replied. Alastor stared at him, expressionless save for the smile. The angel began to sweat, only now realizing that what he'd just said was fucking weird.

“The… nun outfit?” Alastor asked slowly, squinting. “That’s a thing for you?”

Lucifer felt his cheeks heat up. “Yeah.” 

Alastor stopped walking completely. “I wore that for all of three seconds.”

“And those were some of the hottest three seconds in my entire life,” breathed Lucifer. He had had so much to unpack when he’d seen that. Alastor had seriously unlocked a few things that day, and not all of them centered around how much he hated the guy. 

It took a moment, but Alastor started walking again. “I’ll file that away for later.” 

Lucifer dared to hope. 

Down the next flight, Alastor continued. “I must inform you that I am completely disinterested in such intimate skinship.”

“Jesus, Al, just say ‘sex’.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not interested in sex. At all.” 

His mouth opened to say more, but but he paused, words caught in his mouth. Lucifer glanced up at him curiously. Alastor didn’t meet his gaze, his eyes holding a distance that the king found to be somewhat unnerving. He had seen it in the eyes of many sinners — an almost haunted look that held a simmering anger just beneath the surface. 

“And I… don’t think I ever will, despite our partnership.”

Lucifer decided it was best not to let his mind wander this time.

Did he miss sex? Yeah, but he always thought of it as something fun during frisky nights or lazy mornings. The thought of setting it as an obligation in their relationship actually disgusted him. “That’s alright with me.”

Alastor twirled the cane in his hand and huffed with indignance; the kind of huff reserved for the rare moments when he was frustrated with himself. “Although I’m still uncomfortable with the idea, perhaps I could progress to physical intimacy from a distance.”

That got him a questioning glance. “From a distance? How does that even work?”

Alastor’s devilish smirk was almost enough to make Lucifer blush on its own. “Why, a bit of creativity, sire.”

The king damn near yelped when he felt something thick and firm wrap around his ankle. He looked down to see one of the thick shadowy tendrils Alastor liked to show off from time to time. It slipped out of the shadows and wound itself around the king’s leg. Lucifer swallowed thickly at the sight, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as the appendage crawled higher. 

“Ho-kay! No need for that!” Lucifer laughed nervously, desperately trying to keep his mind from unpacking the newfound dark fantasy currently scaring the shit out of him. He backed up against one of the hallway walls, trying to kick the tendril off.

His soul nearly left his body when two black, wispy hands clamped onto his shoulders. Alastor’s shadow slipped its head out from the wall just beside his, quickly nipping at Lucifer’s lower jaw with cold, sharp teeth. It let go and disappeared back into the wall just as its victim let out a whole slew of swears. 

Kicking the worryingly slimy tendril off of his leg, Lucifer found himself fending off a multitude of intrusive thoughts, none of which were in the Bible. He instead focused on Alastor and his smug face. “Al, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” Alastor cut him off, closing the distance with just a single step of those long legs. “But then how else would I find such amusing reactions?” His eyes narrowed, notes of red dusting his gray skin. “For my eyes only.”

Lucifer must have been one Hell of a sight. Rosy cheeks underscored with burning gold, face flustered, every word coming out in a half-laugh stutter. His breath caught in his throat as the Radio Demon licked his teeth, his tongue frighteningly long. He struggled to speak, but he didn’t need to. The two were quickly distracted by a third making itself known.

The shadow chittered on the wall beside them, watching them with mischievous eyes. Alastor threw a glare towards the entity. “As for you, I did not ask you to do that,” he scolded. Lucifer could still feel a tingling sensation from where the creature nipped him. “You and I shall have words about your misbehavior.”

In response, the shadow snapped its jaws in Lucifer's direction as a little show of defiance towards his owner.

Lucifer had so much to unpack, and yet the boxes were just piling up. “Wait, did your shadow just argue with you? Did it just frown?” He glanced between the two. “It’s just a part of you, right? We’re not adding a third person to this?”

Alastor hiked a brow. “Would that be an issue?” 

Lucifer blinked once, then twice, then a third time, worry slowly etching across his face. “I mean… yes. That is a whole other conversation.”

The shadow silently cackled along with Alastor’s chuckle. “It’s merely an extension of my consciousness, Your Majesty, but it does have a mind of its own. I prefer to keep those details a secret, however.” His grin developed an edge. “Its actions can be rather… revealing.”

Oh boy. Lucifer wondered, vaguely, just what he’d gotten himself into. At this point, though, he didn’t care, and he was ready to fully send himself into the madness. “Noted.”

When Alastor and Lucifer returned downstairs, they found everyone patiently waiting, stopping all conversation in anticipation. The two paused on the stairway, looking at one another before staring back at the staff. The question was obvious, even if unspoken. Alastor looked rather perturbed by this display, and Lucifer shifted uncomfortably as he realized that, yes, their collective behavior over the past few weeks was indeed a little weird.

Charlie cleared her throat to break the silence. “So… how did it go?” 

Lucifer sucked in air through his teeth nervously, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Okay, so, uh, there was a lot to talk about. I said some things, he said some things, and there was a bunch of miscommunication.”

What was supposed to be a simple answer came out as a full on ramble. “I mean, we got there eventually, but like, there’s still stuff we need to discuss, and I’m not sure how much Alastor is okay with me saying. Don’t get me wrong, we’re both happy with the outcome, I think. Right? We, uh, still need to talk about it, and I—”

Alastor placed a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, speaking over the fumbling king. “Yes, we’re technically dating.”

Lucifer face’s fell flat and the sinner grinned down teasingly at him. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Bastard,” Lucifer chuckled, but he didn’t wait for a response, for he plugged his ears a millisecond before Charlie’s shriek shattered half the glasses in the bar.

Chapter Text

Narrowed black eyes stared at the ticking, skull-spotted clock with disdain.

Alastor was late. Alastor was never late, and if he was, it better be because he had broken both of his legs, because Rosie did not like to be kept waiting. 

She had all of the meat they were going to use for the gumbo lined up; carefully-chosen cuts that were known favorites of both cannibal Overlords. And yet, one of said Overlords was mysteriously absent.

With an acrid odor permeating outside to signal acid rain on the horizon, the Radio Demon would be lucky if he arrived without a blemish on his suit. Of course, that would need to be the least of his concerns next to what Rosie would do to him for his tardiness.

The clicks of a rapidly tapping heel against linoleum were growing faster with every minute Alastor was late, and by the time there finally was a knock at the door, Rosie’s foot was going a mile a minute.

The knock was a firm and polite little thing that was so unlike the slower, more haunting rapping of knuckles that Alastor employed. Rosie didn’t think anything of it as she hurried to the door; Alastor was late, after all. He didn’t have time to be dramatic without seriously trying Rosie’s patience.

“Alastor, darling!” she greeted, opening the door. Her jovial tone was underscored with hints of malice. “Keeping a lady waitin’ is never a good idea. Don't you know Hell hath no fury like a—” 

She stopped when she looked outside and saw no Radio Demons in sight. She stuck her head out, looking left and right in puzzled irritation before she heard someone clear their throat. She looked down with a surprised “oh!”, realizing that there was indeed someone there.

A pristine white coat and hat, an apple-tipped cane, rosy cheeks, a head of angelic blond hair, accents of a hellish red; there was no mistaking who had arrived at her doorstep. 

“Well well, no one told me we were having royalty for dinner!” The king’s brow shot up to his hairline and Rosie let out a sharp “ha!” left her lips before correcting herself. “Sorry, sweetie; I meant ‘ over for dinner’. Just a little joke we have in our humble little home.”

She had seen the king in many photos and paintings, as well as the occasional public appearance from afar, but they were nothing compared to seeing him up close and personal. The photos could never capture how… 

The paintings always made him look more…

The appearances with Lilith always overshadowed how much he…

Was ‘twink’ still an okay word to use? Yes? Yes, okay, she just wanted to check in to be sure.

Pulling away from the doorframe, she greeted Lucifer with a small curtsy, flashing a wide, sharp-toothed grin. “I never knew you even traveled down these parts! What can ol’ Rosie do for you, My King?”

Lucifer seemed momentarily stunned, but he was quick to recover. “Oh, uh, I’m actually here on behalf of Alastor.”

Rosie wasn’t sure why she hadn’t made the connection before, but when she finally did, she nearly short-circuited. “Oh? Is that so?”

Lucifer managed a grin. “Yeah, he got caught up with something with that guy he hates, Vox. He knew he was going to be late, but he’s too stubborn to buy a cellphone to text you, so I’m here to help with, um… dinner.” He had begun to trail off as he spoke, and that was probably because Rosie’s grin was growing wider and wider with each word spoken.

“Ol’ Alastor has you doing your dirty work, eh?” Rosie teased, deciding to play dumb just for the moment. 

“No, I actually volunteered,” Lucifer replied quickly, waving his hand and summoning a large wine bottle in his grasp. The “wine” was gold in color and emitted a soft glow that shone through the olive glass, as if the very substance was made of light. “You know, because that’s what partners do for each other.”

She was so glad neither of them had ears, because they would be bleeding from the high-pitched shriek Rosie let out. Dancing on her toes in excitement, she picked up Lucifer by the shoulders with ease and brought him inside, the door slamming shut with a jerk of her hips. “Oh, you have no idea what a treat this is!” she buzzed with excitement. She placed Lucifer near the coat rack and took the bottle from him. “Go on and remove your coat and hat; make yourself comfortable!” She removed her own wide-brimmed hat and shuffled over to the nice little table she and Alastor shared every brunch, now conveniently manned with one extra chair. “So, Alastor told you about our talk?”

“Ahh, the basics,” Lucifer replied, placing his ringleader cost on the rack and rolling his sleeves up. “Which I have to thank you for, because holy shit .” He gestured to his crowned tophat; the same one Alastor had ragged on time and time again. “The hat’s okay, right?”

“Oh, the hat’s fine! If anything, I find it quite charming!” Rosie giggled, grabbing a small box of finely-wrapped glazed eyes of varying flavors and presenting it to him. “A little snack, Your Highness?”

Lucifer took a step back from the sudden offering in his face. “Uh, please, it’s just Lucifer. And I’m alright. I—” He paused, and Rosie could have sworn she’d seen a nonexistent nose twitch. “Wait, is that maple.” He really seemed to consider it, but held up a hand. “No, I’m fine.”

“Savin’ your appetite for dinner, hmm?” Rosie giggled, popping a chocolate eye into her mouth and putting the box back. “Little guy like you probably don’t eat too much!” 

She had the urge to pinch one of those rosy cheeks, but the small look of irritation had her pausing. “Oh, I didn’t offend, did I?” she asked, being genuine. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend, sweetheart! Now c’mon! Let’s get started.”

The king looked surprised to receive a sincere apology and quickly followed her into the small kitchen in the back of the emporium, where plenty of ingredients were laid down for one of Alastor’s signature dishes. “So… you’re Rosie?”

The Overlord laughed sharply, stepping aside as Lucifer set down a folded piece of paper, unfolding it to reveal Alastor’s recipe for his mother’s gumbo. “The one and only! Did Alastor not put in a good enough word about me, darling?”

The little angel glanced up at her stiffly, unused to her presence and (as was usually the case) her energy. “Hmm? No, he told me you were nice and sweet, but they were coming from Alastor , so I sort of thought you would be a…”

Rosie arched a finely-shaped brow. “An egotistical bitch?”

“Yup.”

Another laugh erupted from her lips and she placed a hand to her heart, endeared. “Oh, sweetie, I am one! I’m just better at hiding it than the rest!” 

The bluntness of her statement had Lucifer relaxing as he laughed alongside her. “I would be disgusted, but then I’d be a hypocrite, wouldn’t I?”

A sharp-toothed grin flashed down at him. “People have no right to be offended by us if we warn them ahead of time,” she giggled with a wink, something that got the king to crack a smile. They quickly washed their hands, and as Rosie was bringing out an array of vegetables from the fridge, she had to ask, “Will you be joining us for dinner?” 

There was no wonder why she posed such a question. They were in Cannibal Town. One would be a fool to think that the meat they were using would be the animal variety.

Lucifer considered the offer for just a few seconds, a far cry from the outright denial she was used to. “Eh, sure. Why not?”

“You partake?” she inquired, setting a couple cups of flour and oil in front of him so he could start on the roux. 

Lucifer took a moment to squint at Alastor’s chicken scratch handwriting before quickly getting back to the conversation. “I haven’t in a thousand years or so, but Li—” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I’ve been offered some a few times by Overlords like you in the past. For courtesy’s sake, I never refused — I had to be a ‘king for the people’ and all that junk.” He dumped the flour into a deep pot, genuinely coughing this time when a plume of the fine powder nearly hit his face. “I mean, it’s not like the sinner’s dead forever, am I right? I avoid it when I can, but I’ve been alive for several millennia. I’ve tried pretty much everything at this point. I don’t think Alastor knows, but then again, he never offered.”

As he was turning up the heat of the stove and drizzling in the oil, he was hit by realization and glanced at Rosie. “Uh, wait, we’re not using angel meat, are we? That’s where I cross the line. And you can count me out if you’re planning on using my blood over there as a marinade.”

Rosie’s delighted smile only grew wider. “Don’t worry, hon! We don’t deviate from Alastor’s recipe. The man would throw a fit!” The amused “tch” from Lucifer showed he knew exactly what she was talking about. She looked up from browning the sausage, baring her teeth in a grin that could put Alastor’s to shame. “ Speaking of Alastor… ”

Lucifer glanced up from stirring his pot of flour and oil in a moment, confusion, but soon enough his eyes were rolling as a smile found its way onto his face. “Oh yeah. I’ve been told you like your gossip even more than Alastor does. I was wondering when you’d try to pry all the details out of me.

The Overlord smiled sweetly, the picture of innocence.

After taking the flour-oil mixture off of the stove, he pointed the wooden spoon at Rosie in warning. “Everything said and done tonight stays in here, alright?” he reminded, his tone firm. “We haven’t decided when we’ll announce to the public about whatever we are, and we really don’t need rumors right now.”

The king might not have been very active within his kingdom, but Rosie had no doubt that Lucifer would assert his authority if she ever let anything slip. She made the motion to zip her lips, the effect a little lessened by how her lips were parted by a wide grin. Without missing a beat, she summoned a bottle of wine into her hands. “In that case, may I offer you a glass?”

Lucifer no doubt recognized it as her attempt to loosen his lips a bit more — after all, who knew when she’d get a chance at this again? Nonetheless, he appeared amused and summoned a couple glasses for the both of them. Once the wine was poured, they traded places so Lucifer could incorporate the pre-prepared broth while Rosie quickly worked a knife along the length of a stick of celery. “So, what do you want to know?”

“When did you and Alastor become…?”

“Partners?” he finished, pouring some of the broth into the pan with the sausage, effectively deglazing it. “I mean, that’s what we call ourselves. We decided on our thing the day after he spoke with you, I believe.”

The cannibal was surprised. “Well, that was faster than I thought it’d be,” she confessed. “Usually he ducks and rolls around these sorta things. So, you understand he can’t…?”

“Yup.” Lucifer shrugged, a little awkward, but not seeming troubled by it. “Sort of hard to get used to, especially since, you know… I love him. But I’m more than happy with what we have. I love him while he basks in the attention and occasionally shows affection back, when he’s up for it.” He paused in his sip of wine, narrowing his eyes. “Okay, that sounds kind of awful, but it’s way better than I made it out to be, I swear.”

Rosie barked out a laugh. “Oh, I know what you mean, honey. But enough of that! Tell me what happened!”

From the look on Lucifer’s face, it wasn’t going to be the image of heartfelt confessions that she had pictured. Now, it was Alastor and Lucifer, so she hadn’t expected it to go smoothly (in fact she was half sure they wouldn’t even get together in the end). From Lucifer’s expression, however, it appeared their little meeting had gone even worse than expected. That was even better for Rosie, who craved that sweet sweet drama. 

“Not too well?” she asked innocently despite her smile.

The king took another sip of wine in preparation. “Well, for one. I didn’t realize he was oblivious to the flirting.”

“Oh, honey.”

“In fact… I thought he was in on it.”

“ Honey .”

As the rest of the broth was poured into a large soup pot and the vegetables were scooped in and left to boil, Lucifer began to recount the details of that night. Rosie listened with rapt attention, a hand to her heart when the king first tried to kiss Alastor and a laugh on her lips when Charlie and Angel had spilled out onto the balcony after spying.

There were some gaps in between. Lucifer was a little less detailed on some of the things Alastor did and said, and despite offering another glass of wine, Lucifer wasn’t budging. That was fair. Some things needed to stay private, after all, while others had a chance to be pried from Alastor’s mouth next time they had tea alone.

Lucifer’s mood dropped substantially midway through the story. 

“And then I found out about his…” His brow furrowed and a certain sting found its way to his gaze. It was something dangerous, and Rosie knew it was best not to push him into it this time. He motioned vaguely to his neck and Rosie stopped chopping up vegetables.

“And…?”

“And it wasn’t fun to find out,” he finished. “I tried to break it, but I couldn’t.”

The cannibal’s brow flew up to her hairline, not sure which detail surprised her the most. “Really now?”

As he tested a piece of celery to make sure it was somewhat tender, Lucifer let out an affirmative hum. “It’s a common misconception that I can break any deal. I can’t unless the dealmaker is also in contract with me, which is, uh, not possible right now.” He didn’t bother to hide his grimace. “Deals aren’t something made just in Hell, you know. They began as a form of contract up in Heaven, to ensure that angels always remained true to their word and were honest with each other. Seraphim can’t break deals. The only one who can is my Father, and, well… I stopped trying to talk to him long ago.”

Deciding to give the vegetables a couple more minutes to boil, he grabbed his wine glass and leaned against the counter. “So, yeah. I can’t break Alastor’s deal with Lilith. Nor can I break his deal with Charlie.”

Although her eyes widened, Rosie smartly kept her mouth shut this time. As much as she loved the drama playing out in front of her, she wasn’t dumb enough to make the King of Hell aware that she knew about Alastor’s deal with Charlie, if he didn’t know already. 

“Yeah, that wasn’t fucking fun to find out, either,” Lucifer growled. “A deal with my little girl, and she didn’t even tell me! Not gonna lie, the fucking balls he has to even think he could get away with that is nothing short of fucking astounding. He’s fucking lucky circumstances are the way they are. Like, what the fuck?”

The bitterness of his wine seemed to only deepen his disdain with the next sip. “Don’t even get me started on Lilith. He can’t even say anything about it and—” He stopped and gave Rosie a scathing look that nearly had her soul leaving her body. “ Do you know anything about the deal? ”

Her body seized up at the command and she spoke without even thinking. “I know nothing more than you do.” It was the truth, but a deep, repressed part of her feared what would happen if he didn’t believe her.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, but in the end she couldn’t exactly resist his royal commands, and so he relaxed back into a stiff bitterness. “He hasn’t been able to tell me anything about it, either. Not even how long it’s been a thing. Part of the deal, I understand, but now I wonder just how long Lilith had been hiding this from me.” He let out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s made a deal with Lilith, he’s made a deal with Charlie; two-thirds of the Morningstar family already. I might as well join in and make a deal with him, too, just to make sure he’s behaving—”

The king actually jumped when the knife Rosie was using to chop meat came down and embedded itself into the wooden cutting board, cleaving it clean in half. He looked up just in time to back away when Rosie’s face came uncomfortably close to his. “No, you will not !” she snarled, her teeth bared in challenge. “It’s already enough that your whore wife trapped my fawn in an unfair deal — I will not let you do the same! I may not be able to kill you, but I will personally make your life a living Hell if you dare to do that to him, do you understand me?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the brazen threat to him, his shoulders tensing in defense. He sneered at her snarling visage, unafraid. The spark of anger and indignance in his eyes didn’t phase her in the slightest, for she meant every single word.

Tensions were high as the smell of burnt sulfur stung the air, but despite clearly having the higher ground, Lucifer backed off first. His temper quickly cooled. “I won’t,” he assured her stiffly, his tone relaxed significantly as he spoke the next words. “I wouldn’t… Not to him, anyway.”

His inflection had Rosie pulling away as well, believing him when he spoke.

Lucifer decided to busy himself by adding the roux in while Rosie cooked the rest of the meat and some shrimp, watching him carefully. “The only reason I didn’t break things off with him on the spot was because he was honest with me,” he confessed. “I didn’t want there to be secrets in our relationship, so I asked him if there was anything he needed me to know before we started our thing , and he automatically told me about the deal.”

Rosie’s brow flew to her hairline. “Did he now?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I kind of am. The Alastor I know would keep such a secret to the grave.”

Pausing as he was sprinkling in the roux, Lucifer gave her an unsure look. “So… what does it mean that he told me?”

“What do you think it means, sweetheart?”

“That he’s… afraid of me?”

“Has he ever expressed that he’s scared of you?”

“No, never. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.”

“Maybe,” Rosie hummed with a shrug. “Maybe he is scared.” She pulled the wooden spoon from the pot. “ Or , maybe he really does want your relationship to work.” She punctuated it with a boop where his nose should be, smearing a bit of broth onto his face.

Despite the act, the look on Lucifer’s face indicated incredulity, but there were notes of hope. “You think so?”

Rosie’s smile was soft, terribly unbefitting of an Overlord of her power level, and yet she made it feel genuine. “I know he’s capable of caring to that level.” She tilted her head. “Would you say he’s been trying on his end?”

“Eh…” Lucifer’s answer wasn’t exactly confident as he stirred in the rest of the roux. His snake tongue slipped out to lick up the dollop of soup between his eyes, humming pleasantly at the taste, and was quick to get back on track. “It’s like he didn’t really expect things to change right after. I asked him if he wanted to stay in my room, or vice versa, and he looked at me like I was crazy. He’s not interested in the idea of going out on a date, nor does he want to. I also explicitly need to tell him I want to spend some time with him or else he’ll just get up and walk away without realizing I was trying to, you know, be with him . I mean, I should have figured that out by now; he’d never caught on to all the romantic junk I was trying to pull with him before. But…”

“Oh geeze, you weren't expecting kisses and cuddles right away, were you?” Rosie teased, handing Lucifer some of the spices to use in the gumbo.

Lucifer cringed so hard he nearly dropped the entire container of cayenne pepper into the pot. “Uhhh, no, but I thought things would be… different, I guess? A lot different, I mean. We kind of made a big deal out of it, after all. Sort of. The deal with Lilith gave him lots of issues, I guess — we agreed to try something out right after I tried helping him break his deal, so I would think things would be a bit… more ? Especially with someone like Alastor. He’s always had such a large presence that I just expected…”

“But that ain’t really fair, is it?” Rosie hummed, a hand on her hip as she nudged around the seasoned meat. “To expect that from someone you barely know?”

He didn’t even fight her critical tone. “Tch. Yeah. That’s completely on me. You hang around sinners for long enough and you think you have them all figured out. Nevermind the fact that I’ve been sort of absent for the past couple centuries. But…”

“But…?”

Lucifer paused as he was adding black pepper, a smile scrawling onto his face. “He has these… moments. Like, we still insult each other, but it doesn’t feel like he’s really trying to hurt me anymore. And whenever I give him my blood, he always wants to just sit there and, well… talk to me . Which is nice. Really nice. Especially since he doesn’t like touch in the first place, you know?”

Rosie felt her heart begin to flutter. “That so?” she asked, saying as little as she could so she could make room for Lucifer. “Anything else?”

“He’s really involved ,” Lucifer continued. “He wakes me up in the morning with coffee, and when I’m feeling sad, he’s almost always there by my side. He started telling me whenever he’s going out to eat some random sinner, and at first I thought it was because he was trying to be a sadistic prick. But it turns out he doesn’t want me to get jealous .”

The matriarch snorted out a surprised laugh.

“And every radio broadcast, he plays at least one song I like,” he prattled on, a grin now firmly on his face. “And he makes my food spicier than the rest because he knows I like it that way. And sometimes, when he smiles at me, I just…” He chuckled under his breath, as if in disbelief over how far he’d fallen for this self-centered, cannibalistic Overlord. “And he has…”

He looked up at the cannibal helplessly. “He has a tail, Rosie,” Lucifer sighed, drawing a small snrk out from her. “A tail . I…” Blackened arms flailed in exasperation as he let his dumbfounded mind take over. “I mean, that’s something I saw with my eyes . What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“You guard that info with your life,” Rosie said simply, watching the king take that advice to heart as he donned a determined look.

His expression soon softened into something more tired. “Sometimes I feel like it’s a little unfair, you know?” he said after a moment of quiet. “For me to be this fucking whipped for him, I mean. I don’t want him to think that he has to feel the same. Sometimes I’m afraid that he’s doing some of these things because he thinks they’re expected of him.”

A tut tut came from Rosie. “If Alastor doesn’t want to do something, he won’t,” she assured him. She quickly added, “Outside of the deal, of course.” 

That seemed to make Lucifer feel a little better, and he went about putting in the rest of the spices without much hesitation. “You know, I had a hard time wrapping my head around Alastor’s ‘issue’ with romance, but I think I get it now.”

“Hmm?”

“I was hoping — fucking praying , honestly — that the love I would feel for Alastor would fade and that I could someday be comfortable just being partners or friends. But I can’t help it. I can’t change how I feel about him, and honestly I feel ashamed sometimes that I pine for this sinner so hard, even when I know he’ll never want me back.”

Despite the angel’s turmoil, Rosie’s smile never completely dropped. It softened with sympathy, but it never fully went away. “And you know what that is, Lucifer?”

Lucifer looked up at her, a sad smirk on his face. “Pathetic?”

Rosie quirked her smile. “It’s normal. ”

If Lucifer had any opinions on her analysis, he didn’t voice them. He studied her for a moment, keeping silent until the meat was done.

Breaking up the quiet, Rosie held up a piece of meat and some shrimp skewered on a fork. “Try!”

Lucifer looked down at the food with only a moment of hesitation before taking it into his mouth, soon humming in delight at the taste. “Holy fuck, that’s good,” he commented with a full mouth. “Let’s get that shit in there.”

As they were scooping the meat into the bubbling stew, Rosie flashed Lucifer a smile. “Well, no matter your feelings, it seems like you have a decent thing going on! Yeah, there might be bumps here and there—”

“Oh, definitely .”

“—you have to remember you’re not even a week into your relationship! Imagine where you’ll be in another week of getting comfortable with each other. Or a month. Or a year! ”

Lucifer blinked. “A year?” A dumb smile crossed his face. “You think we’d last that long?”

Rosie tilted her head. “Don’t you?”

No doubt realizing he sounded like a pessimistic killjoy, Lucifer scrambled to clarify. “I mean, yeah! I think we could definitely make it work out! But…” He let out a slow breath. “Sometimes I’m worried this is just some grand scheme of his. He’s a dealmaker — you don’t become an Overlord by always being honest, kind, fair, and loyal.”

As much as she could protest, Rosie found herself nodding along. “True.” Although she did try to embody all four of those traits nowadays, it was no question she’d abandoned every single virtue on her climb to the top, and she would easily throw them out the window for the people she cared about. “Alastor surely ain’t opposed to lying his tail off to get the upper hand, but trust me, hon: Alastor isn’t fooling this time.”

Deciding to lay on the doubt pretty thick, Lucifer asked, “Okay, but all due respect, how do you know he’s being serious this time around?”

Rosie’s grin grew wide. “I know my Alastor too well.”

Lucifer’s hum was one of continued skepticism as he continued to stir the pot. “Yeah? That Mimzy chick says she’s known him since he was alive. She calls him a cold-hearted son of a bitch who doesn’t care about the hotel.”

At Mimzy’s name, Rosie’s mood instantly soured. “Ugh. That bitch.” Just the sight of her made an ugly feeling curl up in her stomach. One of Mimzy’s favorite activities was using Alastor for a free meal or to get herself out of trouble. “I keep tellin’ Alastor she ain’t good for him, but ah, she always worms her way back in.” She scoffed, hands on her hips. “No, she doesn’t know him in the slightest. I do.”

“How so?”

Rosie grabbed a bag of long grain rice and began to measure out a few cups. “I’ve known him since he popped up in Cannibal Town, darling,” began the matriarch. “He stayed in my domain for decades. The Alastor you’re describing to me? It’s legit, I’m telling you. Now, I won’t truly know it until I see it with my own eyes, but I know my Alastor. And my Alastor is a horrible actor.”

Lucifer snorted in amusement. “Yeah, he is pretty bad. The only thing that put me off more than when he sang to Charlie about being a better dad than me was the fact that he somehow managed to look like an evil asshole the entire time.” He listened to Rosie giggle in amusement before moving on. “But, uh, I had no idea you were that close,” he noted. “He just always described you as an ‘old friend of his’.”

Although she knew Alastor would throw a fit if he found out they were having this conversation, Rosie didn’t hesitate to go forward with it anyway. “I had plenty of children when I was alive,” she replied, pouring the appropriate amount of water into the rice pot. “I love Alastor just as much as I loved them. I understand him better than his mother ever did, and I don’t care if he’d kill me for saying that. It’s true and he knows it.”

The pot lid landed just a little too harshly and Rosie turned to face Lucifer, her free hand skimming along the butcher’s knife. “That being said, I hope it goes without saying that you need to treat him well. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes.” The word “ma’am” was clearly on Lucifer’s lips, but by the grace of his Father,he caught himself just in time. A gold blush crept up to his cheeks, which Rosie assumed was from the near fumble. If she quickly pressed with the typical “‘yes’ what?”, she could probably get him to say it, and that delighted her to no end.

“Great!” she cheered, giving Lucifer a firm pat on the back that nearly knocked the wind out of him. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now, listen to me when I say that what you’ve got here is a certified queerplatonic relationship, and from what I’m hearing, there’s nothing fake about it, sweetie.” 

“Is that what it’s called? A queer-whatever?”

“Mmhmm. A QPR, as they call it. Or QPP, for queerplatonic partnership.”

“Alright then.” Lucifer didn’t argue this time around. If anything, he seemed to be rather appreciative of Rosie’s tidbits of information. 

Focusing back on the food, he grabbed a ladle and dipped it into the gumbo, allowing himself to sample the boiling creation without even letting it cool. 

His eyes widened. 

“Oh. Oh, that fucks! ” Lucifer exclaimed, steam rising from his lips, causing Rosie to snort in amusement. He turned down the heat on the gumbo and covered it up, allowing it to bubble and stew. 

There were a few moments of quiet as Rosie waited for the rice to bubble and Lucifer refilled his wine. Something else was on his mind, evident from another unsure look crossed his face. Rosie waited until she could finally turn down the temperature on the rice before addressing him. “Alright, lay it on me. What else do you have for me?”

Lucifer laughed softly, but appeared to be lost deeper in thought than usual. “Actually… about Alastor being ‘aromantic’ and all that…”

“Well, we’ve already gotten this far,” she hummed, opening another bottle to top up her glass. “I don’t see how another question can’t hurt. What’s on your mind?”

He gave her a hesitant, yet firm look. “If he could love me… would he?”

Rosie blinked owlishly at him. “Lucifer, darling, you’re a sweetheart, but that’s a stupid question.”

Lucifer flushed with embarrassment. “Is it, though?” he asked, his face a little flushed. “I mean, I think it’s a little fair.”

The cannibal considered his words a tad longer, rubbing her chin to see if she could possibly be wrong (she never was). After a moment, she shook her head. “No. No, it’s not,” she replied firmly. “If he could, he wouldn’t be the same person, would he?” A lifted brow, but there was no retort. “Would you still love Alastor if you were still an angel who hadn’t fallen?”

Lucifer furrowed his brow. “That’s a pretty extreme example.”

Rosie narrowed her eyes. “Is it, though?”

“There’s also plenty of factors that roll into that. Like—”

“Like differing past experiences, relationships, a different outlook on life and love — that sort of thing?” When Lucifer didn’t respond, Rosie arched her brow. “Hell, you'd probably still be married, hmm? If Alastor was into romance, how do you know he wouldn’t be taken by the time you two met? You’re definitely not the first suitor, honey.”

The king held up his hands. “Alright, you got me,” he chuckled. “You’re too fucking good at this.”

“And I do it for free, sweetheart,” Rosie chirped with a wink. “Besides! Didn’t he tell you that he can’t ‘love you the way you love him’?”

Lucifer undoubtedly recalled telling Rosie that while he’d been going over the events of that fateful night. “Yeah?”

“Well he can still love you, darling!” she assured him. “Sure, he may be a sadistic, narcissistic, murderous, cannibalistic, short-tempered, violent, pompous—”

“You’re really winning me over with this list, Rosie.”

“—psychopathic serial killer with a black hole where his heart should be, but he can still love! Just like he loves the people he allows close enough to see him like we can.”

Surprisingly enough, Lucifer looked fairly convinced. Sometimes a few words of reassurance was all that was needed to quell any doubts, but then again, this entire first meeting seemed to have been nothing but building up the king’s confidence in his partner. Would that make Rosie Alastor’s wingman? Or was she his hypeman? Either way, she was there to support her friend through thick and thin, even if she had to do some third-party rizzing in the process.

“You know, it’s nice talking with you,” Lucifer said bluntly, not leaving any room for misconception. “I thought I was going to be talking with an absolute bitch, but you’re quite alright.”

The woman in question let out a boisterous “ha!” at his expectation. “Oh, honey,” she hummed with a chuckle, “the bitch in me only comes out before I’ve had my morning coffee,” she giggled, giving him a little push on the shoulder. “Always happy to help, darling! Though, it would be nice to have a conversation with someone that’s not about their relationship problems for once. I love my job, but it’s nice to get away from those conversations from time to tims, y’know?”

“Well, if you want, I can join you two for tea next time. Or can stop by for a cup whenever I’m in the area, and we can talk about whatever sick shit you people think about during your free time.”

“I’d be delighted to have you!” 

The front door suddenly swung open, and soon into the kitchen came Alastor, not a hair astray as he twirled his cane in one hand. The way Lucifer lit up at the sight of Alastor was something Rosie wanted framed on her wall. Despite the powerful odor of acid rain wafting in from outside, the deer was spotless, which should have been no surprise. Alastor would perform every miracle in the Bible if it meant he would still look good during a storm, even if with just regular rain.

His shadow was quick to slip in, twirling around Rosie and Lucifer twice before returning to its master. The angel was looking down upon the entity with nothing but affection.

Bowing his head as he entered, the deer began his apologies. “Please pardon my absence, my dear Rosie, Lucifer. Vox was being a bit of a…” 

“A needy attention-whore?” Rosie finished, a grin spread wide across her face.

Alastor snapped his fingers. “Bingo.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You’re describing Overlords in general.”

“Guilty as charged,” Alastor hummed shamelessly, coming to stand by Lucifer with his arms clasped behind his back. “I do hope Rosie has been a good host to you, Lucifer.” His gaze met Rosie’s, holding a warning look that promised a strong reprimand should Lucifer not appreciate the accommodations. Rosie just smirked and winked, something Alastor did not take kindly to.

The king in question remained unaware of their silent conversation, dismissing Alastor’s worries with a wave of his hand. “She’s been great to me. We’ve just been chatting this entire time.”

A huff of static left Alastor’s lips. “Need I guess what your conversations were about?”

Lucifer scoffed as he dipped a ladle into the piping hot gumbo. “You know exactly what we talked about. Now come on. Try this out and tell us how amazing it is.”

Alastor waited for the spoonful of gumbo to cool off and took a single sip and smacked his lips in contemplation. “Hmm… it could use some more salt.”

Lucifer nearly dropped the ladle into the soup in his befuddlement. “Okay, now you’re just being a contrarian,” he criticized, glaring at the container of salt in Alastor’s hand as though it had personally cast him out from Heaven.

“All I said was that it needed more salt, Your Highness. It’s not my fault your taste buds have shriveled in your old age.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s perfect! You just don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And yet you always ask me to assist you in the kitchen whenever it’s your turn to cook. Is that not a sign?”

“That’s because I like you! You really think I need cooking advice from someone who eats rotting venison?”

As Rosie listened to the two bicker back and forth, she cheerfully went to check on the rice. Upon seeing that it was perfectly made and ready to serve, she gently guided the (still arguing) men to their brunch table. She then returned to the kitchen and scooped up a heaping amount of rice into three bowls, pouring a generous amount of (salted) gumbo into each one before summoning some silverware and bringing the tray of meals out to the man-children in her care.

Alastor immediately quit his snide comments when food was placed in front of him (as was usually the case), but paused when a bowl was placed in front of the king as well. “Oh, Lucifer won’t be joining, he doesn’t eat—”

“Don’t eat what?” Lucifer interrupted with his mouth already full of gumbo.

Alastor watched in stunned silence as Lucifer shoved another spoonful into his mouth, and if Rosie knew her fawn well enough by now, she could practically envision his tail flicking back and forth beneath his coat. “Ah. Nevermind then.”

Finally, finally , Rosie popped open the cork for the special “wine” that Lucifer had brought her. She was already a little tipsy, so this was probably going to fuck her up. Given the occasion, she was absolutely here for it .

“I’d offer you some, Alastor, darling,” Rosie hummed, pouring herself a generous glass, “but you can drink from your infinitely-regenerating divine wine keg whenever you want to, so...”

“Mmm, very true,” Alastor chuckled, his eyes going to linger on his partner. “I do prefer to drink straight from the tap.”

The way Lucifer’s eyes widened and he laughed nervously was just too precious to ignore. “So! Uh! How was your thing with the TV guy?”

“Oh, you couldn’t write better entertainment, my dear Lucifer.”

From there they ate and enjoyed a rather pleasant conversation about everyone’s day, each one with something interesting to tell. Rosie went off about Zestial passing by and the matriarch having to save Susan from nearly having her soul consumed when she’d decided to antagonize him. 

Lucifer’s day had been a little less interesting than the other two, though he recounted getting lost on his way to Cannibal Town and without Alastor on call to ask, resulting in Lucifer and Rosie ganging up until the sinner finally gave in and agreed to buy a phone.

As for Alastor, his meeting with Vox had been productive. While he skipped on the details on what exactly it was about, he was happy to announce that it ended in Vox being dropped in his own shark tank.

The conversation progressed to simple gossiping near the end. Watching Lucifer and Alastor laugh as they argued and made little jokes was nothing short of adorable for Rosie to watch. Lucifer’s intoxicating blood didn’t help things, and she found herself with a dumb smile on her face as she watched them interact. Occasionally Lucifer would put a hand on the deer’s arm or on his back, and it thrilled Rosie to no end to see Alastor take it without recoiling with a sneer on his face. If anything, his smile seemed to relax at the touch, and he seemed unbothered by the way Lucifer looked at him.

Rosie longed to know someone who looked at her the way Lucifer looked at Alastor. 

Alastor was in good hands, truly.

The gumbo had long-since been devoured by the time the wine ran out. Rosie stood up and assured the two she would get another bottle from the back since her summoning was a bit unreliable in this state. Her two guests waved her off as they continued to talk.

Rosie found a bottle of wine in the cellar as promised, but she fumbled while taking it off the rack, causing it to drop and crash onto the ground. She huffed and took the time to clean up the mess before grabbing another identical bottle for them to enjoy.

“Sorry it took so long, you two!” she apologized the moment she’d entered back into the parlor, only to find that no one was there. The table where they had eaten and chatted their cares away was now empty and her two friends and their wine glasses were nowhere to be seen.

After a bit of searching, she finally heard the buzz of a static-laced laugh meet her ears from outside.

Rosie opened the door to the covered back patio, which is where she found Alastor and Lucifer. 

The two were leaning against the wooden railing, just barely out of reach from the pouring rain. The air was thick with the pungent smell of sizzling plants and burning brickwork, but the two hardly seemed concerned. 

Lucifer had now entered the realm of lightly drunk at this point, his cheeks flushed with gold, though that could very well be the handiwork of his partner. He prattled on about something with a fervor; most likely ducks, a subject Alastor had never taken any interest in before, and yet the Radio Demon seemed to listen on as though he were truly enraptured by Lucifer’s words. His posture was completely relaxed and he nodded on, always encouraging his partner to continue.

Rosie couldn’t see Alastor’s face from her angle, but from looking at his shadow, he was more than enjoying himself. At one point, Lucifer looked up from his wine glass to continue with his story when he caught Alastor’s eye. Whatever he saw in there sent his words into a stutter. His smile was shaky and he averted his gaze. Mustering up what sounded like an apology, he blamed his fumbling on the wine. 

Alastor’s words were covered up by a mix of static and the pouring rain, but whatever he said had Lucifer smiling like a fool. He grabbed Alastor’s hand in his, the words that formed too low to be heard by passersby. They were powerful enough to get Alastor to avert his gaze for once, his shoulders shaking with a laugh. Whatever he said in return had Lucifer smiling wider than before, his chin resting in his hand as he just stood there and admired .

Rosie, the drama-loving gossip queen she was, ached to know just what was being said between the two. She found herself okay with just not knowing, though. Their sweet words and little laughs weren’t for her to hear.

A smile of her own appeared on her face as she allowed herself the chance to watch them for only a moment longer. Then she went back inside and closed the door, giving them some privacy.

Rosie had heard enough drama and gossip to make her entire weekend. She could live without clinging onto every word they spoke, because what she’d seen out there was nothing short of true contentment from the both of them. 

They deserved to have these moments to themselves.