silly little fics writer

TW: heavy stuff halfway through -- depression; angst.

There were some days Lucifer couldn’t get out of bed.

There was nothing particularly wrong with him. Which made it all the more embarrassing, which made it harder to explain, which made it easier to stay in bed and hide from the world, and so on and so forth…

Get up, the Stern Lucifer in his head said, sternly. You have the Assembly today. What’ll the Sins think if you don’t show up?

“Don’ wanna,” he groaned and tossed the covers over his head. The darkness was soothing. He let his eyes slip closed. Just one more minute…

“People are beginning to talk.” 

He bolted upright, his eyes growing so wide he was worried they might actually pop out of his skull.

“Alastor? What the Hell are you doing on my bed?”

Because he was. On the far edge. Sitting with his legs crossed. As casually as if this was the kind of thing regular people did every day: break into the King of Hell’s room and sit on his bed.

(Not that Lucifer hadn’t thought about the demon in his bed before, but usually it was in the damn thing and with a lot less clothes and what the actual Hell was he thinking right now?) 

“People are beginning to talk.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Yes. Because I don’t think you heard me the first time.” Alastor eyed him, clearly unimpressed by what he saw. It had the odd effect of making Lucifer want to punch the demon in the nose and pull the covers over his head at the same time. “If you don’t get up in the next five minutes, you’ll be late for the meeting.”

“Oh, who cares?” Lucifer sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “It doesn’t matter whether I’m there or not. They’ll squabble and Ozzie will flirt and Beezlebub will try to get everyone drunk and Mammon will drive everyone up the wall with new pyramid schemes.” 

Alastor tilted his head almost a full 45 degrees. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Was the man half-owl? A mean gleam shimmered just below the surface, turning his eyes into bloody rubies. “If you hate ruling so much, why not just give up the crown? Let someone better take it.”

“Oh?” Lucifer snorted. “Sounds like you have someone in mind.” 

Alastor sighed, as melodramatic as a soap opera. “Alas, I would – but I doubt the six Sins would listen to lil’ ol’ me.” His accent slipped from transatlantic to all New Orleans, and Lucifer found himself hanging on every word. Southern suited the demon, was just as much Alastor as the color red and his old fashioned suits.

He shook himself out of it, snorting. “Please. Try the humble pie act somewhere else. You’ve never thought of yourself as little even once in your life.” 

“Caught in the act!” The demon sang.

There was a long moment of silence as Lucifer hugged his blankets to himself and Alastor hummed some blues under his breath.

“How do you do it?” Lucifer said suddenly, and blushed, ducking his head back into his knees.

“Do what?” 

If Alastor had looked even the tiniest bit mocking, or teasing, or annoyed, Lucifer would have dove into his blankets and that would have been that. No meeting, no big Assembly, the entirety of Hell could go to…well, Hell, for all he cared. 

But Alastor seemed honestly curious. Not soft, never that, but he was looking at Lucifer as if he actually cared what he had to say. 

“How do you keep going every day?” 

With anyone else, he would have apologized immediately for worrying them. Charlie would have started crying and immediately urging him to go see someone about his problem. Lilith would have listened, but a part of her would have been writing up her list of to-dos for the day. And anyone else – well. 

He didn’t have anyone else. 

That was part of the problem though, wasn’t it? 

But because Alastor was a cold, callous bastard, he didn’t have to apologize. He could just be honest. Already he was starting to feel some of the weight fall off his shoulders, as if carrying the words around had been half the battle. 

Alastor tapped his cane on the ground. “Because I have half a doe in the fridge, plans with Rosie next Tuesday, and in a few months I fully intend to rule Hell.”

The last one caught Lucifer completely by surprise. He half-snorted, half-coughed into the crook of his arm. “Excuse me?” He squeaked. “Should I be alarmed?” 

“Absolutely not, my dear.” When Alastor grinned, there was something remarkably predator about it. “Didn’t you hear me say the Sins would never listen to me? I couldn't do it alone.”

“But then how do you intend…” Lucifer stopped, and his cheeks turned an absolutely brilliant shade of scarlet. “You– you– you don’t mean?”

“Ah, there we go,” Alastor said. “Took you long enough. It’s a good thing you’ve got a pretty face, hmm?”

“I’m married!” 

Alastor leaned forward. For one brief second Lucifer thought he was going to kiss him – but instead, he pat him on the head, as if he was an overgrown toddler. “My dear…one wedding ring does not a marriage make.”

Lucifer scrambled out of bed and tumbled to the floor in his hurry to get away from the complete and utter madman. 

“Ah, good! You’re up!” Alastor snapped to attention, bustling about as he got Lucifer’s outfit prepared for the day with the grace and ease of a seasoned valet. 

Lucifer took the proffered outfit, gaping up at the demon looming above him like – a nightmare? A dream? You could never tell which was which when it came to the Radio Demon. “Were you trying to get me out of bed this entire time?” 

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“No!” He spluttered, his cheeks once against stained wine-red. “So all that stuff about – wanting to rule Hell was…?” He would absolutely explode if he had to complete the sentence.

“Perhaps if you get up in the next–” Alastor checked his bare wrist, no watch in sight. “Two minutes, I’ll let you know.” 

The man is absolutely bonkers, Lucifer thought, but he did pick himself up off the ground and start getting ready. For some reason, it wasn’t nearly as hard as it had been earlier this morning – not when Alastor was there to confuse, entice, confuse, ridicule him. 

Alastor walked jauntily towards the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. 

“One step at a time,” he said suddenly. 

“Excuse me?” 

Alastor graced him with his patented I have been saddled with an idiot look. “You asked me how I keep going. I take it one step at a time.” 

Then he was gone. Lucifer stared at the outfit he’d left for him -- it was his favorite suit, with gold accents and ruby highlights. When had Alastor bothered to notice?

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“Uno!” 

“No, Dad, you still have two cards!” 

“Oh.” Lucifer dropped a +4 onto the pile. “Now uno!” 

“Hey, Big Daddy, it ain’t your turn anymore. It’s Tall, Dark, and Creepy’s turn to go.” Angel Dust peered at Alastor who, despite his trademark smile, looked like he was in physical pain. His left eye was twitching rather alarmingly. “You hangin’ in there?” 

“Yes, fine,” Alastor snapped. “I’m simply at a loss at how such a simple game can defeat Lucifer’s intellect. You would think he would have learned something after a few million years.” 

“Hey!” Lucifer threw the cards in his hand at Alastor – which, being a grand total of one, wasn’t very impressive. The sad little +4 gently tapped him on the nose before fluttering to the ground.

Alastor sighed, very loudly. “Great. Why do we bother with this again?”

“Because it’s game night!”

Lucifer was referring, of course, to the weekly tradition that had started because Lucifer had insisted if you date me, you date my daughter too, and Alastor had shuddered and agreed just so he wouldn’t have to hear him say that atrocious sentence, ever again. Then Charlie had insisted on bringing Vaggie along, because she was her partner, and therefore family.

Then Angel Dust had overheard there was a weekly game night going on, and dragged Husk into coming along. Niffty was the only one that Alastor had personally invited, although none of them knew that (it was their little secret). 

“Can we have just one game night where we actually finish a game?” Vaggie complained. “I actually have a good hand this time!” 

“I don’t know why y’all put yourselves through this,” Husk called out from the bar. Ice cubes clinked as he poured himself another stiff one. “They’re going to start trying to kill each other in five minutes.” 

“We will not,” Lucifer sniffed as he collected his card and sat back down. “And we do not try and kill each other every time.” 

Angel Dust started ticking off incidents on his fingers. “Let’s see. We never got to finish that game of Monopoly, Clue, Yahtzee, Catan –” 

“Family Feud,” Vaggie added, staring hard at Alastor. He sniffed and looked away. 

“You cannot ask a gentleman from my time to guess what you barbarians from the 21st century think about things. That was a poor choice of game.” 

“Scrabble, Secret Hitler–”

“Alastor was cheating that time!” Lucifer burst out.

“I was not,” Alastor said smugly. The rest of them shuddered at the memory. Alastor had been surprisingly good at Secret Hitler – so good, in fact, that it and any other political manipulation games like it had been banned from the halls of Hazbin Hotel.

“Apples to Apples, Sorry!, Hive Pocket–”

“That one was Niffty!” Charlie broke in, desperately trying to keep the peace. “She stabbed the game board, remember?”

Niffty started vibrating and jabbing at things. “Bugs!”

Angel Dust sighed. “My point still stands, toots. These two are physically incapable of ending a single game without flirt-fighting in the middle of it.”

Alastor snarled. Lucifer turned red. And everyone else nodded. 

------------------

What none of the others knew was that Lucifer and Alastor had another weekly tradition. A secret they kept hidden from the others. 

Every Sunday, after Alastor had finished his script for the next day and Lucifer had put the finishing touches on his latest invention, Lucifer summoned a golden portal and whisked them off to the far reaches of Hell. 

It was a different wonder every time. A hill near the Greed Ring, the toxic plumes of smoke creating a beautiful emerald mist over the dilapidated city. The very top of the skyscraper that towered over the Lust Ring. A relaxing dip in one of the lava pools of the Wrath Ring, which made Alastor hum and stretch like a cat as the boiling liquid lapped at the scar on his chest.

One day, Lucifer took them to a bustling street packed with street vendors and shops selling the exact same merch. The smell of caramel and popcorn and cotton candy was heavy in the air. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, his face paler than usual, and his hands were constantly picking at his hat, his coat, his staff.

Alastor peered at him. “Whatever is the matter with you?” 

“I have something to show you.” 

Lucifer led them deeper into the colorful, fantastic clutches of Lu Lu World. Past gaggles of hellborn children and their exhausted parents, past lines for rides that looped at least ten times before disappearing into the buildings proper, past storybook houses and little animatronic villagers.

“Business must be doing well,” Alastor noted.

“Terrific. Our newest ride is a hit.” 

“Newest…?”

Lucifer stopped abruptly, staring at something above them. He was sweating slightly, his feet shifting this way and that. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, in a tiny voice. “I got, well, inspired.”

Alastor looked up, and his eyes widened. Towering above them was…him. A flawless version of him. The demon grinning at the top of the ride was perfect in every way, his smile hiding a million secrets that both enthralled and frustrated the viewer. Enthralling. Alluring. The shadow coat he was wearing created a natural barrier between him and the audience, but his outstretched hand seemed to beckon you closer, to touch what was forbidden.

Can you defeat the enigma? Was the tagline stamped at the bottom of the board.

“It’s an escape game,” Lucifer said hurriedly. “I thought of it during one of our dates, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. You don’t mind, do you? I was so nervous about it, but I thought I’d –”

“He’s a bit perfect, don’t you think?” Alastor said, his voice gruff.

Lucifer squinted at the display. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said, sounding honestly confused. “It looks just like you.” 

Alastor groaned, unsure how to handle the unfamiliar, powerful feelings batting at his too-small heart. This is how he sees me? 

“You don’t like it,” Lucifer babbled. “I’m sorry, I’ll take it down–”

“No, it’s fine.” Alastor said. “It’s…good.”

“Really?” Lucifer relaxed, all the tension leaving his tight shoulders. 

“Really.” 

They stood there a while, simply breathing in each other's company as the muse and the artist stared at the work they had created together.

Finally, Alastor spoke. "May I suggest a game for our next game night?"

"You? Have a suggestion?" Lucifer nodded warily. "Go ahead."

"Secret Hitler."

Ahh no idea want to send it again just to make sure?

“Gerroff,” Alastor growled. 

They’d been fighting. Again. It happened so often that the rest of the hotel had long given up doing anything about it, treating them like two overactive toddlers before nap time. Let them tire themselves out. They'll get bored eventually.

Except Lucifer and Alastor were decidedly not toddlers, and their brawls usually ended up in someone – or something – getting hurt. 

This time, Lucifer had accidentally launched himself at Alastor hard enough to send them both tumbling over the railing from the top floor. He’d transformed at the last second, his wings creating enough of a drag so they didn’t break the floor of the hotel. 

But the sudden movement caused them to flip over in midair, and Lucifer found himself cushioning Alastor’s fall with his own body. 

“Ouch!” 

His roar of pain was deafening. Alastor winced, his sensitive ears twitching. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he scowled. 

“When you stop being such an asshole,” Lucifer hissed back, rubbing his sore bottom. 

Alastor rolled his eyes. “You didn’t make this much of a fuss when I blasted you into the Greed ring.” 

“Well, I landed on my tail this time,” Lucifer said crossly. “Don’t you know you never mess with a man’s tail? What kind of savage are you?” He sighed, shaking his head at him pityingly. “I guess I can’t expect too much out of someone who doesn’t have one.” 

Alastor snorted. “And what makes you think I don’t?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. The slightest hint of a blush rose across his pale face. “You have a tail?” Is it fluffy?

“I’m a deer, my dear. Of course I have a tail.”

Lucifer gasped, then winced as his own tail perked up in excitement, accidentally tugging at the spot he’d landed on. Alastor’s gaze flicked to his ass. 

“It does look a little bent,” he admitted. One of his claws reached out and trailed gently across the pitch black line, starting from the sore spot and ending at the heart. Lucifer shivered, the hyper-sensitive skin sending sparks of something up and down his body. 

“Who told you you could touch it?” He asked, his voice pitched embarrassingly high. 

Alastor’s hand stilled. “My apologies. I thought you might want some help straightening it out.” 

“I didn’t mean – it’s fine.” A strange thought suddenly occurred to him, and before he knew it, his mouth was moving before his brain could catch up. “Since you touched mine, can I touch yours?”

Alastor cocked his head, considering this for a moment. Just as Lucifer was about to take it back and claim temporary insanity, he nodded and held out his hand. “An acceptable deal. Shall we shake on it?” 

Lucifer took his hand – and suddenly, the world blurred. He found himself unceremoniously thrown off of Alastor. He started protesting, but immediately cut himself off when the tall demon stood and started shedding his coat.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry. “What are you doing?”

Alastor looked at him strangely. “Showing you my tail. Surely you won’t be able to reach it with this old thing in the way?’

Two strong forearms, scarred and slim and strong, appeared from underneath the coat. As Alastor neatly folded it and placed it on the couch, the thin fabric of his shirt twisted and flexed, revealing the powerful, slender form hiding underneath. 

Then Alastor turned around, and Lucifer gasped.

“Oh my god it’s so fluffy!” He squealed, sounding exactly like his daughter. Alastor even glanced around nervously, checking to make sure Charlie hadn’t somehow snuck in while he’d been distracted. 

“There will be no tail-touching for you if you don’t calm down this instant,” he frowned. 

Lucifer forced himself to sit still. “I’m calm, I’m calm.”

Alastor cast a suspicious glance at him, but sighed and crooked his finger forward. “Well, come on then.” 

The first touch was heavenly. The little puffball stuck on Alastor’s behind was even softer than he’d imagined, like rabbit’s fur mixed with fresh-fallen snow. It was sensitive too, twitching with every soft stroke. He was so focused on patting it he didn’t even notice Alastor was getting near his tail until he’d pinched the end of it between his claws, hard. 

“Hey!” He yowled. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

He flashed his trademark grin. “That was the deal, my dear. I touch yours, you touch mine. And can you blame me? You have quite the fascinating specimen back here. I haven’t seen anything like it.”

The unexpected compliment brought an alarming amount of heat to his cheeks. “Yours isn’t so bad, either.” 

And Lucifer added two things to his list of things he knew about Alastor that day: Alastor’s tail was adorable enough to make a baby bunny rabbit jealous, and he made some very interesting sounds when it was touched.

Part 1 here.

Lucifer tried everything. He tried meditation. He tried stuffing his face with so much cake his waistband grew three sizes (he later transfigured it away, so no one would ask him Concerned Questions). He even went on vacation to the Lust Ring for a while, but there were only so many sex jokes a person could take before they started seeing penises and boobs everywhere.

The whole time he was there, he kept thinking about the forbidden fruit coursing through Alastor’s veins. And when he was done lusting after Alastor’s blood, he would think about Alastor in general. Alastor would hate this, he thought, bored out of his mind while a cow devil was milked dry in front of him. Alastor would hate that, he thought, as Ozzie and his partner treated him to a very graphic display of affection that left his face redder than a tomato. When Ozzie started rolling out the really premium shows, Lucifer decided it was high time for him to go.

By that time, the obsession had grown to the point where he was nearly deafened by it, the constant refrain of AlastorthisAlastorthatAlastorAlastorAlastor –

Then he stepped out of his golden portal, and a tall figure sitting in an armchair by the fire turned around and the voice went silent.

Alastor barely looked up, too busy petting KeeKee and looking like the world’s best Bond villain to give him the time of day. 

“Ah, you’re back.”

When had that radio static started sounding like home? “Did y’all miss me?” He glanced around, deflating a little at the empty sitting room. “Where is everyone?”

“Busy with any number of far more important matters, I’m sure,” Alastor drawled. 

“It’s good to see you too, asshole,” Lucifer grumbled. The brief moment of homecoming faded, replaced by that permanent feeling of annoyance that he always felt around Alastor. He had started stomping upstairs when the shadows by the top of the stairs shifted, crinkled. Then Alastor was there, blocking his way. 

“I see your Majesty has his tiny knickers in a twist,” he commented, as if that wasn’t a totally inappropriate to say to the biblical source of all evil. 

Lucifer’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “Excuse me?” 

“I wouldn’t bother trying to deny it if I were you,” Alastor mentioned. “That would be quite an insult to my intelligence. You’ve been in a foul mood for weeks. The whole hotel has noticed it. You’ve been dragging that silly cane all over the place, something you only do when you're upset.” A flash of green lit up Alastor’s wide smile. He looked positively ghoulish, but Lucifer was still stuck on his comment about his cane. I drag it when I’m sad? Since when? And why did he notice? “If it’s bothering you so much, why not share the load?”

“You want me to…tell you my problems? What is this, storytime?” Lucifer scoffed. 

“Perhaps I could lend you my assistance,” he purred. “For a price, of course.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Now you’re insulting my intelligence.” With a flick of his hand, another portal appeared on the stairs, blocking Alastor from view. The demon was oddly perceptive. He didn’t want him to see just how close he was to falling to his knees and blubbering yes please just a sip, just one more taste. 

(Lillith had always called him a drama queen. Maybe she’d had a point.)

The portal didn’t block the sound of Alastor’s voice, more’s the pity. “Is this about the little scratch you gave me a few weeks ago?” 

Lucifer stilled. The portal wavered, guttered, and went out, leaving the two of them staring at each other.

“How–?” He stammered. 

Alastor’s grin was triumphant. “How many times must I say it? Never underestimate my intelligence. So am I correct?”

Lucifer didn’t respond, which was answer enough. Alastor sniffed. 

“In that case, I believe I have an answer to your problems.” 

What? Was he offering what Lucifer thought he was offering? “And what could that possibly be?”

“Quid pro quo, my dear. You get some of my blood, and I get some of yours.” 

“Fine,” Lucifer gestured him over impatiently. “Come here and bite me –” 

“Not like that.” 

Alastor raised a small glass vial. His smile would have made a crocodile jealous. “I told you, just a little bit of blood. I never said to drink.” 

Alastor eyes flashed into dials and the darkness was split by a lazer of green, then red – a literal red flag. The biggest STOP HERE, DO NOT PASS GO, DO NOT COLLECT $200 Lucifer had ever seen. 

But his mouth was so dry. He could barely think past how large his tongue had grown. Besides, he was the king of hell. The original sin. What harm could it do to let Alastor have a little bit of his blood? 

A lot, the rational part of his brain whispered. This is Alastor we’re talking about. But the rational part of his brain had grown rather quiet around the Crusades, and he’d lost a good chunk of it by World War II. 

Charlie said he was reckless. She didn’t know the half of it. 

“Fine,” Lucifer said. “But you only get to take my blood once. And I can drink from you when I want.”

Alastor thought for a moment, then his lips moved. 

Deal.

The word disappeared in the cra-a-ack of green lightning that struck around them like fireworks. He started to roll up his sleeves, but Lucifer was too quick for him. He flew up the steps and smashed into Alastor with such force he sent them spiraling into the wall. Alastor gasped, but before he could protest, Lucifer had torn the fabric of his shirt and slashed a deep groove into the cool skin of his neck. 

Finally, that sweet blood flowed onto his tongue. He moaned, his lids fluttering as he drank greedily. Big mouthfuls at a time. 

Sin. Death. Apples. Smoke and sugar. The taste was indescribable, and in that moment, Lucifer thought he could have promised Alastor his whole kingdom, and it would have been a fair trade. 

Alastor, for his part, stayed dutifully still, even when Lucifer licked off the blood that had splattered onto Alastor’s collarbone and the tip of his chin, unwilling to let even a drop of it go to waste.

It took a while, but Lucifer finally leaned back with a groan, his lips smeared with blood like it was cherry chapstick. 

“Satisfied?” Alastor muttered. Lucifer made an incoherent sound of joy. 

“Good. I am as well.” Alastor raised a completely full vial of golden blood. When had he taken it? “I believe it was a satisfactory deal for both parties.”

Then he smiled in a way that made Lucifer's skin prickle. 

A major sacrifice

But clueless at the time

Enter, Caroline

Just trust me, you'll be fine

“What is that noise?”

Lucifer turned around warily. It was always good to be wary around Alastor. “Music.”

Alastor gave him a Look. It was his “Don’t Be An Obtuse Idiot” look, the one he saved just for Lucifer. 

He sighed. “It’s a song. The humans come up with some interesting stuff when left to their own devices.” He waved to the radio sitting on his desk. “It took a bit of work, but I managed to figure out how to connect this old thing to some of Earth’s music stations.” 

Alastor’s ears twitched, a surefire sign he was interested and trying not to show it. He lowered himself down onto the other side of the sofa, and they listened in silence together. 

And when I'm back in Chicago, I feel it

Another version of me, I was in it

I wave goodbye to the end of beginning.

“I’ve never heard of these instruments,” Alastor mused. 

“Synth? It’s a pretty new invention. I believe it was heavily popular around the 1980s, and it’s gone in and out of style since then. What do you think?”

“It doesn’t have as much soul as a good saxophone or a piano riff, but it’s not horrible.” Alastor admitted. “I don’t suppose humans on Earth still listen to singers like Ella Fitzgerald?”

“Hard to match a once-in-a-lifetime artist like Ella,” Lucifer remarked. Alastor snapped his fingers, his eyes gleaming with pure, genuine delight. It was rare to see him so excited about anything that didn’t have anything to do with blood or death, and Lucifer drank it in like a man dying of thirst. 

“Exactly,” Alastor grinned. “I see you don’t have completely irredeemable taste in music.”

“She’s fantastic, but you will not believe some of the stuff they have up there now.”

Alastor glanced at him with poorly disguised interest. “You don’t say? Do you happen to listen to these stations quite often?”

“Every night.” 

Alastor paused, as if weighing his next words. “Would you mind a little company?”

The smile that exploded from Lucifer was unexpected – but not unwanted. And that was how the king of Hell and the Radio Demon declared a truce every night, between the hours of 12 AM to 1 AM.

—------------------------

“Boy, you’re in for a treat today,” Lucifer said as soon as Alastor walked in. “They’re playing electro swing on 58.3 The Breeze.” 

Alastor furrowed his brow. “Electro…swing?” He shuddered. “Sounds positively horrid. Why ruin a perfectly good thing with extra noises?” 

“Don’t be such a Debbie Downer,” Lucifer scowled. “Sit down, shut up, and give it a chance, will you?”

To his credit, Alastor did sit and shut up – for approximately ten seconds. Then he groaned. “This is a travesty. They’re calling this garbage swing?” 

“Electro swing,” Lucifer corrected. 

“No, no, enough of this swill.” Alastor snapped his fingers, and the song immediately cut off. “Let me show what true swing sounds like.” 

A moment’s pause, then a new song came on the speakers.

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…

Lucifer perked up. “This is…Louis Armstrong?” Just the sound of his voice brought back whispers of slower times, of smoky jazz clubs and whiskey in crystal glasses, of dreams laid out on silver screens. Suddenly, it was the 1950s again.

Alastor bowed and held out his hand, every move so darkly dashing it would make Fred Astaire weep with envy. But his eyes gleamed with challenge.

Dance with me? Asked Louis and Ella.

Spellbound, Lucifer took the devil’s hand. He placed the other on his shoulder hesitantly, but Alastor’s grip was strong and sure as he slowly led him around the room. 

“I want my arms about you, the charms about you will carry me through,” Alastor hummed along. The old-fashioned words were perfect in his radio static, as if the song was made for the two of them, for this very moment. 

Relax, you silly goose. He’s just singing the song. He’s not talking about you, Lucifer tried to reason with himself, but it was exceedingly difficult to think straight with Alastor’s face so very close. His voice – oddly lovely for a man who specialized in conducting screams – cast a spell over them. Time stopped. And Lucifer relaxed, letting Alastor’s song chase his worries away. 

“Heaven, I’m in heaven!” 

—------------------------

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

“You’re listening to this again?” 

Lucifer blushed and scrambled to change it to another station, but Alastor materialized in front of the radio and covered the fast forward button with his hand before he could get to it. Damn those tricksy shadows of his.  

“I…I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yes, that is one of the benefits of teleportation,” he said, as effortlessly smug as always.

“It’s not our usual time,” Lucifer frowned, peeking at the clock. 10 PM. Far too early for what was quickly becoming his favorite hour of the day, although he’d never admit it out loud. 

“Well, I heard a cry for help coming from this room, so I thought I’d be a good neighbor and pop my head in,” Alastor said.

“Cry for help–” Lucifer started indignantly, but Alastor put a finger to his lips. 

And the damn song was still playing. 

So when everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive…

Lucifer turned so red his entire face resembled a tomato on fire. “I can listen to whatever I want during my private time,” he spluttered.

“That would be true, but I can hear your ‘private time’ from the other end of the hotel.” Alastor sighed, as if no one else in the history of the world had ever experienced the pain of a noisy neighbor. “So I decided to check on you, just to make sure you hadn’t fully devolved into an angsty child.”

“It’s silly, I know, but sometimes listening to this stuff makes me feel…like I’m not so alone,” Lucifer admitted, not quite able to look the demon in the eye. “It’s been a tough couple of years.” Tough couple of hundred years, but who’s counting? 

Alastor didn’t say anything, but he didn’t leave either. Eventually, they turned the radio to another station – Billboard Top 100s, this time – and Alastor’s horrified face at “Think U The Shit (Fart)” made Lucifer laugh so hard water came out of his nose. 

He completely forgot about his depression. At least for the rest of the night. And that was enough. That was more than Lucifer had had in a long time. 

—------------------------

The next day, Lucifer came back to his room to find an old-fashioned ‘30s vinyl record player perched on his desk. A vinyl had already been set up, its arm perched delicately halfway through a song, ready for Lucifer to hit Play. 

Attached to it was a note.

As a thank you for all the new music. -A.

So Lucifer hit Play.

Immediately, the swing of the sax and Ella’s clear, dulcet tones filtered through the speakers. 

Blue days

All of them gone

Nothing but blue skies

From now on

I never saw the sun shining so bright

Never saw things going oh-so right

Noticing the days hurrying by

The record stopped there, as abruptly as if the entire track had been magically wiped. No matter how many times he tried to reset it and play it again, that was the only verse on the record. 

It didn’t matter. Had Alastor forgotten how ancient he truly was? Lucifer had been around for the dinosaurs, the age of ice, man’s first cities, and the launch to the moon. He remembered the greats, because that was his job. He was to live, and he was to bear witness.

He knew the rest of the song, even if Alastor had gone to such great lengths to erase it. 

Noticing the days hurrying by

When you're in love, my how they fly…

He smiled. And he sang along, letting the vinyl spin and spin until the words themselves were nothing but senseless sounds and only Alastor’s promise remained. 

But on the other hand you have Alastor, who kinda makes up his own rules as he goes. Like you've seen him be super nice when he wants to, but that's not his default setting. He likes to eat people?? He's LITERALLY a serial killer?? He has no limits other than the ones he puts on himself, and that's an actual villain.

So yeah yeah Lucifer is strong enough to like cause a nuclear winter but it doesn't really matter because he'll never use it!!

Anyway what I'm saying is that if Alastor were ever to get into a radioapple-style thing with Lucifer I'm pretty sure he could play the king of hell like a fiddle and destroy all of hell if he wanted to. And that's terrifying, and that's why he's scarier than Lucifer.

“Let’s think.” Lucifer cast a nervous glance over at the bundle of fur and evil sitting on the floor, blinking weirdly at him. Now that he knew the cat was Alastor, the creature was almost cute, in its own way. “How do we turn him back? What have we tried so far?” 

“I brush his coat a hundred times every day! That way he stays all sleek and shiny!” Charlie offered.

“I’ve yelled at him for scratching up my BDSM gear,” Angel Dust said matter-of-factly. As if everyone had an elaborate set of BDSM equipment lying around. 

“I caught him trying to eat one of the guests while they were sleeping, so I put him in the time out box.” That was what they called the triple locked, double-walled steel safe that they started throwing Alastor in whenever he did something truly horrendous – which was about five to six times a day. And that was only counting the times he got caught. 

They’d already had to replace it four times. He kept chewing his way through it.

“I’ve thrown him off the roof!” Niffty exclaimed, thrilled she could participate in this game. Everyone turned to stare at her, then at Alastor Cat, who was calmly licking his paw. She giggled. “Don’t worry. He bounced!” 

Lucifer massaged his suddenly pounding temples. “Okay, so we haven’t tried anything.” 

There was a loud, deep meow. Alastor waited until everyone was looking at him, then he pointed to his teeth.

“A clue!” Lucifer crowed. “Something to do with his teeth?”

“I have an idea,” Husk sighed. “You’re not going to like it though.”

—---------------------

“You’re right. I don’t like it,” Charlie shuddered. 

Lucifer covered his nose with his sleeve. “Where did you even find this one? Yesterday’s trash heap?” 

“A little appreciation would be nice,” Husk grumbled. “D’you know how hard it is to find an intact body around Cannibal Colony? Those bastards will eat anything you put in front of ‘em.” He pulled the corpse onto the front mat and stood, groaning audibly as his back popped. “Okay, the bait is in place. Release the demon.”

“Releasing demon!” Niffty chirped as she swung open the door of the safe. Alastor the Cat whirled around, his mouth full of half-chewed steel. His eyes widened, his little nose sniffing the air. Drool immediately started pouring down his chin. Before anyone could stop him, he launched himself off the stairway and landed – splat – on the dead man’s face. 

“See?” Niffty giggled. “He bounces!” 

Lucifer groaned, covering his eyes with his hands as Alastor went to work. It was difficult – but not impossible – to block out the suspicious schlorp schlap schlump sounds. Vaggie turned green and slapped her hand over her mouth. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut, plugged her ears, and started singing nonsense words about raindrops on roses and warm woolen mittens. “So we fed him. What next?”

“What do you mean, what’s next?” Husk asked. “This is it.” 

Lucifer whirled around and stared at Alastor, who had already finished off most of the man and was now lying on his back, rubbing his absurdly rounded stomach with his paw. He grinned at Lucifer, his little tail wagging away. 

He is not cute, Lucifer chanted to himself. He is very uncute. Do not fall for his tricks.

“I don’t understand. He’s not transforming back.” 

Husk shrugged. “Well, that’s all I’ve got. The last time he got like this, he turned himself back after he got what he wanted. And after he got bored terrorizing us.” 

Lucifer’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground. “You mean…he could turn himself back this entire time?”

Stupid. He was so stupid. How many times was Alastor going to play him like a fiddle and leave him in the dust? 

“Meow,” Alastor put in, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I think it’s more permanent this time,” Husk added quickly. He backed away from the cat, sweat dampening his furry brow. “Alastor’s never willingly chosen to be stuck in another body this long. There must be a trigger word or something.”

“Wait just a moment,” Lucifer asked, grabbing Husk before he could book it out of there. “You said Alastor’s been turned into an animal before?”

This time, Husk’s entire back darkened with sweat. “Uh…did I say that?”

Behind him, Alastor struggled onto his four paws.

“Yes, you did. What kind of animal was he?”

Panic. Sheer panic. “I’m not sure I can tell you that.”

“Husker.” Golden angelic might layered his voice like honey and fire. His wings flared, casting a shadow over himself, over the nervous gambler, over the serial killer trapped as a cat. “Have you forgotten who I am?” 

“She turned him into a chick!” Husk blurted out. 

Lucifer’s eyes widened, shock forcing him back to normal. “A chick?” 

“A teensy little baby chicken –” 

Alastor yowled and jumped onto Husk’s face, cutting off whatever embarrassing secret he was about to reveal next. It took all four of them, a hefty dose of catnip, and Lucifer promising to bring back three more bodies to pry him off.

—---------------------

The next day, everyone gathered in the lobby for “Operation: Turn Alastor Less Fluffy Back Take Two.” But before they could get properly started, there was a knock at the door. 

Charlie threw open the door with a huge smile – then it dropped off her face like a rock. Lucifer had never seen his daughter react like that before. 

“Charlie? Who’s there?” He asked, his protective instincts tingling. He pushed himself off the couch and joined her at the door.

“Uh…how can we help you?” He frowned, staring at the overgrown moth, the giant TV, and a sassy teen who had her eyes glued to her screen.

The TV spoke first. “We’ve heard from a reputable source that you have something of ours. We’d like it back.” He eyed Lucifer’s apple staff warily. “Please,” he spat out.

“Something of yours? Like what?” Lucifer frowned. 

“Like that!” The TV pointed past his shoulder to where the man-eating red blob was sitting. Alastor meowed and narrowed his eyes, his tail twitching. “Give him back!”

“What – the cat? You think he’s your cat?” Impossibly, embarrassingly, Lucifer felt a strange possessiveness twist his gut. He stared daggers at Alastor. Why the hell does the TV think you’re his?

Alastor the Cat cocked his head and yawned. 

“Please just give the man the cat back,” the bored teen said, the way an exasperated mother might. “He’s been crying at night.” 

“Have not!” Vox roared, his screen turning red. 

“Your room is right next to mine,” she snapped. “If you don’t want me to hear it, turn your volume off!” 

“Enough of this. You are embarrassing us,” the mothman finally spoke up.

That was apparently too much for the TV, who whirled around, volts of electricity sparking around his head. “Excuse me? We’re embarrassing you?” 

Lucifer resisted the urge to slam the door on this clown show. “Okay, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but you’re going to have to leave. There must have been a mix-up. Al – I mean, the cat is ours.”

“Breaking news! The king of Hell is a liar and a cat-thief!” TV-man yelled. “If he’s not mine – I mean, ours – why do I have so many pictures with him?” 

He whipped out his phone, and there were indeed a lot of photos of him and Alastor in cat form. There was Alastor scratching at his screen, Alastor ripping up their wires while the moth tried to stop him and Vox gave a thumbs up to the camera, Alastor studying a few blueprints in the back, and finally a selfie of Vox squeezing Alastor half to death in a backbreaking hug. 

That one was a step too far for Lucifer. He didn’t really quite remember what happened next, but after Lucifer had to sheepishly promise to replace the torn wall and the burned foyer…and the entire front lawn. 

—---------------------

Lucifer woke up to something furry rubbing against his bare chest. He gasped, his eyes flying open, only to find himself staring into two luminous red eyes. 

Strangely, he felt himself relaxing. He knew those eyes. He’d know them dead, asleep, or awake. “Alastor,” he groaned. “What are you doing here so late?” 

The cat padded up to his face, his teeth glinting in the light of the moon. Then, without any warning, he smashed his mouth against Lucifer’s.

It only lasted for a second before Lucifer was twisting, trying to throw the cat off of him – but suddenly the cat was very, very large, and quite bony, and all too late he realized he was in bed with a fully grown Alastor in his regular demonic form. A very naked Alastor.

Not a trigger word, then. A trigger kiss. 

“What–” He gasped. “Are you serious?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Alastor grimaced, plucking a few cat hairs from his teeth. “It was all quite amusing for some time, and then it got boring, and then it was downright annoying. I decided it was high time I take matters into my own hands.” 

“How did this even happen?”

He shrugged. “We live in Hell, my dear. There are more than a few witches who know their way around a transmorgification spell.” 

“And you…” Suddenly, he remembered the TV and the moth and the girl, and he felt a surge of anger. “You went to go live with those three idiots?”

Alastor tilted his head at a painful angle, looking entirely too much like the cat he’d just been. “Why?” There was a wicked gleam in his eye. “Does that annoy you, your Majesty?” 

Lucifer rubbed his eyes and sighed, deciding it was entirely too early for these kinds of shenanigans. There was plenty of time to get into it later. “Coffee?” 

Alastor thought about it. “Fine,” he finally agreed, as if he was doing Lucifer a favor. Some things never changed. “I’ll join you shortly. I have to get myself decent first.” He glanced down with a scowl at his very naked, very well-built chest. 

Alastor disappeared into the shadows before he could see the technicolor blush on Lucifer’s cheeks. As he forced himself out of bed and into his duck slippers, he found a wide grin spreading on his lips. 

“Three.”

“Three?” Angel Dust gaped, looking like he might pass out and die for the second time from sheer shock. Charlie buried her face in her hands, but she couldn’t hide the blush that spread to the very tips of her ears. Vaggie rubbed her back. 

“It’s not that bad,” she soothed. 

“Speak for yourself, Feathers,” Angel Dust spluttered. “Haven’t you been alive, like, hundreds of years? What the hell have you been doing with your life?” 

“Helping people, obviously,” Vaggie snapped. “Maybe you should try it sometime.” 

“Hey!” So fast almost no one caught it, he cast a nervous glance at Husk. “If you’re so much better than us mere mortals, why don’t you share your body count with the class?”

Vaggie raised her chin, her eyes flashing. “Two.” 

Angel Dust choked, wobbled, and flopped dramatically back onto the couch, fanning himself like an overwrought Southern belle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you two were running a convent here!” 

“It’s your turn to share, numbnuts,” Vaggie sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“‘Fraid I can’t count that high, doll,” he grinned. “Lost track a couple years ago. Husk, your turn!” He sounded far too casual, as if he was very eager to hear the answer and was trying to pretend to figure out what the regular amount of eager would be. 

Husk grumbled and set his glass down on the counter. “Fifty?” He shrugged. “Sixty? Somewhere around there.” 

“Finally! A decent number. See, ladies, it’s not that hard once you put your mind to it,” Angel Dust sighed. “Niffty, you go.” 

The tiny reincarnation of chaos giggled, practically vibrating as she licked the tip of the knife in her hand. “Bugs?”

“No, Niff. Your body count.”

She scratched her head, looking adorably confused. “Silly spider! Bad boys can be bugs too.” 

“What–? Actually, you know what, nevermind. It was my fault for asking you in the first place. Okay, who’s left…” He brightened when he spotted Lucifer lounging by the fireplace. “Aha! The Big Daddy himself has gotta have some interesting answers.”

Lucifer chuckled, his chest swelling with pride. “Well, I might have slowed down in my old age, but before Lilith and I started our little family I was quite a killer with the ladies.” He thought for a bit, tapping his chin as he counted. Carry the one, times three… He finally gave up. “Maybe two hundred?” 

“A-ha! Is that it?” Alastor grinned. “And you call yourself the king of hell?”

Everyone gaped. Alastor had almost thrown someone out of the top floor window for accidentally brushing up against his hand. He’d once burned a coat after Lucifer had grabbed it. He only willingly touched others to A) show dominance or B) play mind games (this option he reserved almost exclusively for Lucifer).

In short, he was the absolute last person anyone had expected to participate in this game. 

Angel Dust looked like someone had just told him Christmas had come early. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the strawberry pimp himself! Don’t keep us in suspense. What’s your body count?” 

Alastor thought for a second. “Four thousand and five-six.” 

Six jaws simultaneously dropped to the ground. Lucifer felt the insane urge to fly into his circus dimension and scream until his lungs gave out. A strange green beast clawed at his stomach, and he pressed his hand against it, trying to tame it before he did something truly stupid. 

“Four…thousand?” Angel Dust stuttered. “But…you’ve only been alive for a hundred years?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been busy, I suppose.” 

That was the last straw. Lucifer stormed out of the room. He didn’t think he’d be able to control himself if he stayed. So Alastor’s fine with just anyone? What the Hell am I then, chopped liver? He stopped in the main hall, taking deep breaths in through his nose, then out through his mouth, just like Charlie had taught them during her “How to: Anger Management” seminar. 

“What’s all the fuss about?”

A familiar static ripped through the air. Lucifer scowled. 

“I don’t really want to talk to you right now.” 

“How interesting! I don’t want to talk to you ever, but unfortunately it’s out of both of our hands.” Alastor pretended to inspect his nails. Lucifer knew he was pretending, because he couldn’t see them through his gloves. “Charlie threw me out and told me not to return until I’d checked in on you.” 

Charlie did? Lucifer shivered, pointedly trying not to think about what that meant, and what she might know about his Super Secret, Definitely Not Pathetic crush. “Great. You’ve checked in on me. You can go now.” 

Alastor cocked his head, peering at him curiously. “I must say, I’m rather surprised by your reaction to my confession. Is it really so surprising? I’ve never made a secret of my favorite pastimes.” 

Lucifer gaped. “This is literally the first time I’ve heard you talk about this.”

Alastor frowned. Lucifer frowned. They both frowned at each other. 

“Have you gone senile? I ate a man in front of you yesterday,” Alastor asked, looking at Lucifer as if he’d lost his mind. 

“What does eating a man have anything to do with it?” Lucifer asked, the same expression mirrored on his face. “You just said your body count was –” 

Realization hit him like a freight train. Alastor had been born during the turn of the century. He’d struggled with modern day slang before, like vibes and cap and bet – and body count, it seemed. 

“Are you…are you talking about how many people you’ve killed?” Lucifer gasped, barely managing to get the words out in between laughs. 

“Yes?” Alastor wrinkled his nose. “Why is that so funny?” 

Lucifer thought his sides might tear from how hard he was laughing. “Nothing,” he wheezed. “Nothing at all.” 

They fell together like a storm. Furiously, without regard for those who might be caught in it. It started with a few raindrops – a few petty insults here and there, nothing too serious. But before they knew it, they had graduated to psy-ops (oh dear, your favorite duck is gone? You must learn to take better care of your things!), campaigns of terror that sent the residents of the hotel fleeing for cover, and full-on fist fights.

And finally, during one of those fights, they found the eye of the storm: an accidental brush of the lips. So quick, so innocent. Easy to brush off as if nothing had happened. 

But Lucifer found his heart was beating so fast it felt like a buzzing in his ears, and he knew he had found the truth of it. The reason why Alastor’s presence was like a perpetual itch he couldn’t scratch. Why he couldn’t take his eyes off of the demon whenever he was in the room. 

So he kissed him again (furiously) and Alastor had kissed him back (tentatively). 

Things didn’t change much after that. But Lucifer found himself making excuses to touch him, his fingers trailing a second or two longer on his chest when he grabbed his shirt during a fight, or lingering at his back when he pushed him out of the way. There were more of those sweeter moments too – cups of coffee shared in silence as they watched the morning sun rise over Pentagram City, reading together in front of the fire when everyone else had gone to bed, Alastor making biting (but helpful) comments as Lucifer glanced over the agenda for the annual Hell Assembly. Lucifer started moving some of the stuff from his workshop to Alastor’s studio, and when Alastor worked on his script for his next radio show, Lucifer would tinker with his experiments. And Alastor only got a little mad when he accidentally set the curtains on fire. 

They fell together so naturally that Lucifer didn’t even realize he had fallen in love until he found himself making Alastor a cup of coffee just the way Alastor liked it – black as sin, with cinammon sprinkled in – and he turned around to find Alastor had made him a cup just the way Lucifer liked it – a healthy splash of milk with five sugars. It was automatic, a thoughtless habit born of a hundred mornings where they’d done the exact same thing. 

“What?” Alastor asked.

“I’d like to keep you forever.” 

“What?” Alastor repeated.

“I love you, you idiot.” 

Alastor didn’t say it back for several weeks. Lucifer tried not to let it affect him, because love was freely given and Alastor didn’t have any obligation to love him the same, but Lord in Heaven it hurt. Were the rumors true? Was he really heartless? 

Then one night, when Lucifer was bent over a particularly difficult blueprint, he found the room had gone eerily silent. He glanced over at Alastor, who, instead of studying the current events in Hell for his latest broadcast, was staring at him with an intensity that made him nervous.

“What do you want?” 

Alastor melted into the shadows, and reappeared inches away. 

“Alastor, what in the world–” 

“Hush.” Alastor pressed the very edge of his claw against his mouth. “That’s quite enough out of you. I’m trying to concentrate.”

On what? Lucifer thought. 

Suddenly, Alastor leaned forward, and their lips met. It was just as delicious as the last time, and Lucifer felt himself melting into the kiss. Then Alastor’s tongue prodded against his lips, asking for entrance. Lucifer gave it, letting out an embarrassing moan as the taste of smoke and freshly roasted coffee and the barest hint of spice invaded his mind. He pushed forward, toppling them both onto the ground as his hand brushed against the hem of Alastor’s shirt. 

And Alastor, for his part, did…nothing. He didn’t touch him back, but he didn’t push him away either. Lucifer took that as a win and brushed his fingers across the bare, smooth skin of Alastor’s stomach. 

Alastor stiffened, his muscles locking in place. Lucifer glanced up, breaking their kiss. “Is everything okay?” He asked gently. 

Alastor’s expression was as unfathomable as the deep, but he nodded. “I thought I told you not to talk.”

Lucifer frowned. “Are you sure–” 

Alastor leapt forward, their mouths crashing into each other again. “Don’t. Talk.” He hissed in between desperate, ragged breaths. Lucifer groaned and resumed his exploration, running his hands up and down the hard planes of Alastor’s chest, his broad shoulders, his thin waist, his hard hips – so different from Lilith’s voluptuous curves, but different was good. His pulse fluttered like a bird’s as he reached for Alastor’s belt and started tugging. 

“Alastor,” he moaned, arching up to see if Alastor was feeling as good as he was – and abruptly stopped moving.

Alastor looked…empty. Far away. His eyes were like glass marbles, staring past and through Lucifer into the quiet darkness beyond.

Lucifer hissed and jerked away. Alastor stirred, as if rousing himself from a deep sleep. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Lucifer nearly snarled. “If you hated it, you should have told me! You didn’t need to put yourself through this!” A bitter taste filled his mouth. His hands felt dirty somehow, and he held them behind his back, as if that would somehow make them both forget what had just happened.

“I don’t hate it,” Alastor insisted.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” 

“It wasn’t terrible,” he amended.

“Fantastic,” Lucifer groaned. “I’m just going to – I’ll just see myself out, shall I?” He tried to escape to the safety of his room, but Alastor’s hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him tightly in place. 

“But this is what people do, isn’t it?” He huffed, his strange red eyes gleaming with an emotion that Lucifer had never seen on him before. “When you–” He broke off, as if he couldn’t quite make himself say it. “When they’re like us,” he finally finished. 

“Like us?” Understanding hit him like a lightning strike. “Oh. Alastor, did you do all this because I told you I loved you?”

“And I…feel similarly for you,” he choked out, looking like he was contemplating jumping out the window while he said it. “And people who feel this way –” 

“Alastor, this is you and me.” Gently, so as not to scare him away, Lucifer held his hand and pressed it to his heart. “When have we ever done things the way other people do? That’s the beauty of relationships – we can write our own rules, and to hell with what other people might think. Besides, we’re not exactly the conventional couple. I think I hate you almost as much as I love you. And now I know you love me too. You put your own comfort aside to try and make us work.” He swallowed, running his finger along Alastor’s sharp jawline. A love he hadn’t known since the Fall filled his spirit, and the room lit up with a gentle golden glow. “Thank you.” 

The relief emanating from Alastor was nearly palpable. He swallowed, then wrapped his hand around Lucifer’s. “One small correction.” 

“What’s that?”

“I think I hate you more than I love you.” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Of course you do. Tacky prick."

From the desk of Alastor, Radio Demon: 

Dear Velvette,

The weather is absolutely smashing today! I was planning on dropping in on Rosie – if you have time, come swing by for a cup or two. Lots of “tea” to share! 

-A.

—-------------

To the desk of Alastor (seriously, what the fuck, A? It’s not the 1900s anymore – stop talking like my grandpa!),

Would love to come to tea. Vox found your letter btdubs. Sorry, didn’t think he and Valentino were going to get it on so early, or I would have moved it. Just letting you know.

He’s giving off real simp vibes, if you ask me. Also, you don’t need to put quotes around tea.

-The Best V

—-------------

VoxHotShot: VELVETTE EXPLAIN YOURSELF

TheBestV: omg stop

MothDaddy: what’s going on?

VoxHotShot: WHAT IS THIS LETTER I FOUND ON YOUR DESK??

TheBestV: i have a life outside of you, k?

VoxHotShot: NOT WITH ALASTOR YOU DONT!!!?!

MothDaddy: stop ignoring me 

VoxHotShot: SHUT UP

TheBestV: shut up

MothDaddy: 😭😭😭

VoxHotShot: Where are you?

VoxHotShot: Are you meeting up with him?

VoxHotShot: Get back here right now

TheBestV: youre not my dad or my boss. Butt out of my biz

VoxHotShot: VELVETTE GET HOME RIGHT NOW!!!

TheBestV: nah im good. seeya bitches at home

VoxHotShot: 😡🤬😱⛓️🗡️💥

—-------------

From the desk of Alastor, Radio Demon: 

Dear Velvette,

Thank you for a wonderful conversation, and yet another fascinating lesson into the minds of you young folk. Yes, I quite agree that Vox displays “simp” behavior, and I enjoyed you calling him “cheugy” in front of Cannibal Colony today. A “big yikes” from me! As always, I look forward to our next little chat. 

Yours truly, 

One day, the hotel woke up to see Alastor’s perpetual “on air” sign had been turned off. His room was empty, his coffee ice cold. 

And in the middle of the lobby was a cat. Or what seemed to be the approximate shape and size of a cat, but with the strangest, most evil face any of them had ever seen. It grinned up at them and wagged its little stump of a tail, which made Charlie melt into a puddle of happy tears.

“Isn’t he adorable?” She squealed.

And that was that. The cat joined their weird little family – and Lucifer secretly resolved to get his daughter to an eye doctor. Stat. 

—-----------------

“Charlie, are you sure about this one? There’s something weird about that cat.” Lucifer eyed the red thing warily. “It’s looking at Keekee like it wants to eat it!” 

“Don’t be silly! Mr. Montgomery is probably trying to be her friend!” She frowned. “It’s so strange. Keekee’s never been this skittish around other cats before.” 

A thin line of drool was falling from the edge of Mr. Montgomery’s mouth. When he noticed Lucifer watching, he sucked it back up and graced him with a freakish, utterly too human grin.  

—-----------------

Lucifer’s wedding anniversary hit him like a truck. That is, he didn’t handle it very well. He got up, fully intending to make a show of his utterly fantastic mood – haha, look how great I feel! Your mother didn’t crush my heart and set it on fire with a flamethrower after all! – but found it was all too much of a bother, and sat promptly back down. He laid his head on his desk. Just a few more minutes. Then I’ll leave. 

He didn’t even notice Mr. Montgomery had waltzed in until the abomination jumped up onto his desk. The cat loomed over him, his razor teeth inches from Lucifer’s nose. 

“Can I help you?” He sniffled. Couldn’t a man mourn the end of his marriage in peace? 

Mr. Montgomery tilted his head with a sickening crack, his neck nearly bending into a right angle as he studied Lucifer’s red eyes, the mountain of used tissues accumulating by the desk, the ring he was clutching in his hand.

Stretching leisurely (in the exact same way he learned from Keekee, Lucifer noted), Mr. Montgomery strolled over to a picture of Lilith he had on his desk – and smacked it off. He stared at him the entire time, as if daring him to do something about it.

“Are you…are you power playing me right now?” 

“Meow,” Mr. Montgomery sneered. 

“That’s it, you little freak! Come to Daddy!”

When Charlie got home, she found Lucifer with his six wings fully spread and the hotel half destroyed by angelic bolts, panting and wheezing as he tore a couch apart. 

“Dad, what are you doing?” 

He whirled around, his eyes wild as he zapped a vaguely cat-shaped shadow into oblivion. “It’s that monster! That cat! I can hear him in the walls!”

“Isn’t he behind you…?” Vaggie asked.

And he was. Mr. Montgomery was sitting on a shelf over the reception, licking his paw and yawning. 

Lucifer deflated. “Ah. I guess he is.”

“Dad, isn’t today…?” Charlie trailed off, blushing a little.

“Oh! Right. Yes, it is,” Lucifer said. He’d been so busy chasing Mr. Montgomery around, he’d completely forgotten about his anniversary. 

“Are you doing okay?”

He sighed and pulled her into a hug. “Yes, I’m fine. I was a little sad at first, but then I got distracted.”

“Burning down the hotel?” Vaggie asked. Mr. Montgomery meowed and started purring, looking as pleased as a cat that had gotten the cream.

—-----------------

“That cat is trying to kill me!” Lucifer roared, pointing at the wholly unrepentant Mr. Montgomery.

The accused murderer jumped onto Charlie’s lap and started kneading her lap. Everyone let out a collective awww! Charlie nearly teared up, and Angel Dust snapped a picture for his Voxstagram. Even Vaggie, the sole voice of reason, was making what the kids called heart eyes at the monster. 

Lucifer nearly tore out his hair in frustration. “He’s tricking you, don’t you see? That cat has it out for me! This is the third time he’s tried to kick rat poison into my food!” 

“Don’t be silly, Dad! He’s just a cat. Cats knock stuff over all the time!” 

“Rat poison? Three times?” 

Charlie looked around, frowning. “Who keeps putting rat poison on the shelves?” 

No one fessed up. Mr. Montgomery let out a loud purr and fixed Lucifer with the most hair-raising, devilishly smug grin Lucifer had ever seen. 

“Did no one see that? Seriously, did no one else see that?”

—-----------------

A few weeks passed before someone finally broached the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“Has anyone seen Alastor?” Charlie tapped her nose with her pencil, frowning a bit. “It’s strange for him to be gone this long.” 

“Oh, oh! I’ve seen him!” Niffty raised her hand and waved it frantically. “He’s right over there!”

Everyone turned – but all they saw was a furry red blob warming himself near the fire. 

“Niffty, doll, have you been sniffing the toilet cleaner again?” Angel Dust asked gently.

“Nooo, silly. The cat is Alastor!” Niffty chirped, clapping her little hands with delight. Mr. Montgomery – no, scratch that – Alastor blinked his left eye, then his right eye, and smiled blandly up at all of them.

“But…but…how?” Angel Dust stuttered.

She shrugged, her shoulders going all the way up to her ears. “Dunno. He’s got a few weird friends who like to play tricks on him. Isn’t it great? He showed up all fluffy and cuddly! Perfect for hugs!” 

Alastor the Cat looked remotely nervous for the first time since he’d appeared. 

“How do we turn him back?” Lucifer demanded. He would rather die than admit it, but he sort-of-kind-of missed the sadistic demon that made his life Hell. It was getting kind of boring without him around. 

“Dunno! Ask him!”

Obligatory warning: It's a mating prompt. There's going to be EXPLICIT SCENES.

“Do you smell that?” 

Husk sniffed the air delicately, then shook his head. “Nothing but Angel Dust’s normal B.O.”

Angel Dust purred. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.” 

The cat rolled his eyes and turned back towards the bar, but not before Lucifer caught the rare smile he reserved for Angel Dust curving on the corners of his lips. 

“Do you seriously not smell that?” Lucifer asked, puzzled. The scent was growing stronger by the second, so rich and heavy it seemed to hang in the air. Musky, woody, with a spicy sharpness to it, like crushed pine needles and orange blossoms. There was something else to it though – something that Lucifer couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it filled his head like an opium cloud. His thoughts felt slow, like molasses in winter. 

His body was a different story. Every time he breathed in, a tingle of electricity ran through him. His fingers were trembling, and his skin felt too tight and a little numb at the same time. 

Am I being drugged?

He was just about to excuse himself when Alastor came rushing around the corner. He was moving fast, as if he was being chased by a pack of wolves, and muttering something to himself like a lunatic. He didn’t see Lucifer until it was too late, and they collided into each other so hard the impact sent them both tumbling to the ground. 

“Ouch! Clean up on aisle four!” Angel Dust crowed. 

“Shut up.” Alastor’s voice was distorted, as if it had been spliced into four. He sounded strained, his throat clenched. 

The scent was unbelievably strong now. Lucifer’s head swam with it. On autopilot, he picked himself up off the ground and extended a hand towards Alastor to help him up. Alastor moved to swat it away, but the second their hands touched, it was like a sonic blast ripped through the hotel. Lucifer’s world went numb, flexed and narrowed in on one thing, and one thing only: Alastor. A bolt of lightning ran up his arm, through his chest, down his legs, and pooled underneath his belt. His legs went weak with need. 

Alastor, for his part, didn’t seem much better off. His eyes were wide with disbelief, his chest heaving as his breathing stuttered. He was staring at Lucifer as if he was a ghost. 

And then something shifted. His eyes went blank, and Alastor – the Alastor Lucifer knew, at least – flickered out of view as something else, something infinitely hungrier and far more desperate, took over. 

Alastor snarled and leapt forward, grabbing Lucifer by the neck. People were shouting something behind them, but Lucifer couldn’t hear them, couldn’t see them over the thick fog of musk and wood rolling off of Alastor. 

Shadows swallowed them whole, and spat them back out in a dark bayou, lit only by the weak light of the stars and the moon twinkling high above.

“Where–?”

But Alastor wasn’t listening. His sharp claws ripped Lucifer’s shirt and coat into shreds in a matter of seconds, his red eyes gleaming with a hazy madness. 

Lucifer forced himself to shake off some of that beguiling smell. It was telling him to relax, to give in. It urged him to thread his hands through Alastor’s gorgeous hair, to stroke his antlers, to finally admit to his deepest, most shameful desire – that he had always wondered what Alastor might taste like.

But he still didn’t know what the hell was going on. 

“What – Alastor, wait – slow down!” He pushed Alastor back with a blast of angelic grace. Alastor hissed, his eyes still crazed with need, and came for him again. This time, Lucifer grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him into a nearby spring. 

Alastor spluttered as he surfaced, shaking some of the water off his head. “What the hell was that for?” His voice was still distorted, but at least he was using his words again. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Lucifer demanded. 

Alastor pulled himself out of the spring and flung his drenched coat off with a bitter grumble, revealing his bare forearms and – to Lucifer’s endless delight – a little tuft of a tail. In the gentle light of the moon, Lucifer could see every ripple of his toned abs, every flex of his broad chest beneath the wet shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

The hazy smell grew stronger. Breathe through it. Don’t lose control. “What did you say?”

“It's my mating season,” Alastor snarled, meeting his eyes again. There was something hypnotic in their scarlet gleam. Lucifer found himself taking a step forward before he caught himself. “Every couple of years, my pheromones go into overdrive. I – no, my body – sends out signals to any potential mates. I usually wait it out.” He shuddered, his jaw flexing. “It’s never found anyone before.” 

A sizzle of pride and pure, clean joy cut through the haze filling Lucifer’s brain. So Alastor had never done this with anyone before? 

(Was he special?)

“So what are you saying – that you’re horny?” 

Alastor blurred – and suddenly he was in front of him, ripping the rest of Lucifer’s tattered shirt from his body. He yelped, but Alastor ignored him. 

“If that’s how you want to think about it,” he growled, then he dug his teeth into the crook of Lucifer’s neck. 

A jolt of intense pain that turned into searing pleasure roared through Lucifer. As if in a trance, he grabbed one of Alastor’s antlers and wound his other hand into the softness of his hair. Then he pulled, hard, forcing Alastor to let go with an audible hiss. 

“None of that,” he snapped.

Alastor grinned, and it was sharp enough to cut him to the core. “No need to play coy with me, your Majesty. The thing about these pheromones – they work both ways. And they never work on the unwilling.” 

The quick flash of heat (shameshameshame) was invitation enough for Alastor to pounce again. He rid Lucifer of his belt and his pants just as quickly as he did his shirt. Lucifer, not to be outdone, showed Alastor he had a pair of claws on his own and slashed Alastor’s entire outfit in half with one slice of his nail. It wasn’t a clean cut – a thin line of red welled up on Alastor’s chest, his stomach, and his right thigh. 

Lucifer was about to apologize, but the words died in his throat when Alastor dipped his finger into his own blood and sucked it clean.

“Want to try?” He asked in his trademark sing-song. 

Lucifer surged forward. Their mouths met in a clash of teeth and tongue, and Lucifer felt himself go even harder at the dark taste of spice and sin on his lips. 

“You drive me crazy,” he whispered when they broke apart. 

“My dear, I am crazy,” Alastor chuckled. “What did you expect?” 

Then Lucifer grazed his upper thigh, perilously close to his dick, and Alastor cut himself off with a gasp. That strange need clouded his eyes, and once again, Alastor’s primal self took over. He roared, pushing Lucifer onto the ground, their bare legs tangling as he pushed his hand between their legs. 

The haze swirled, that sweet, opium smell wiping out the rest of Lucifer’s good sense as Alastor gripped his naked cock with his claws. He groaned, lifting his hips obligingly towards the deer to give him a better angle. That groan turned into a cry when he felt Alastor smearing his own precum on the head of his dick and pushing it against his entrance. 

More, his heart thudded. More. More. 

He must have been saying it out loud without realizing it, because Alastor grinned. “As you wish.” 

Then he pushed in. Lucifer screamed as he felt Alastor’s hardness invading him, penetrating him, stretching him to the limit. But with it, he felt the bond between them swell, take on a new shape. The hatred was still there, yes, but there was something else now too. 

And through it all, the same sentence kept running over and over in his fevered brain: Alastor’s never taken another mate.

Alastor’s eyes rolled back, his back arching as he let loose a low moan. His body was shaking, and his hips were moving as if he was a man possessed. That smell was thick in the air, drugging them both as the pleasure washed over them, coming faster and faster until finally –

The explosion that ripped through Lucifer was like nothing he had ever felt before. He had been there for the birth of the cosmos, for the first steps of mankind, for everything that had come before and that would come after. He had thought he had experienced all the firsts in the world. 

But this…

He clutched Alastor, who was still trembling from the force of the release. Unlike Lucifer, who was basking in the afterglow, he looked…unsure of himself. Now that the pressing drive of the mating call had disappeared, he looked lost, as if he’d been dumped in the middle of a strange land with no map and no compass. 

“Don’t go,” Lucifer whispered, eyeing the strange shadows that were bubbling by his feet. “Stay here with me.”

Alastor wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Lucifer didn’t make him. But he did hold his hand. 

“We can work it out together. Just stay.”

Alastor didn’t say anything. But the shadows disappeared, and the two of them sat in the stillness and the quiet of the bayou.