Chapter Text
If you told Lucifer a month ago he would be worried about Alastor, he would’ve laughed and sent you to a mental asylum.
But something was up with the demon and Lucifer couldn’t help but be a little worried.
A funny thing happens when you are given the priviledge of seeing someone at their most vulnerable. It makes you care, it makes you worry. Your heart latches on like a fish to a hook — it’s bloody and it’s painful and no matter how much you hate it you can’t change it.
Because Alastor had been actively avoiding Lucifer for the past week.
At first it didn’t seem like much, and even if it was it was perfectly understandable. Lucifer didn’t really see Alastor around at all for the first couple days, and when he did see him Alastor found an excuse to take his leave. Be it he had a meeting to attend or a carcass to clean up or anything that said ‘as long as Charlie believes me’.
It was obvious Alastor was avoiding him, but Lucifer, not matter how much he tried, could not figure out why.
He’d tried asking on the sixth or so day. All day.
Any chance he got, any time he and Alastor were in the same room, he tried to create conversation, tried to figure out what exactly he’d done wrong. Truth be told, no matter how much power one holds, anxiety never leaves, if anything it grows more insistent the more people you have power over. Lucifer was a prime example of this.
So, yes, Alastor was avoiding him. And yes, he did immediately blame himself.
After an entire day of trying, and failing, to strike up the conversation, Lucifer retired for the night. Of course he didn’t spend any of the time sleeping, like every other soul in hell was doing, instead his new-found insomnia made that a little hard to achieve. Instead, he thought over every single interaction he and Alastor had had thus far.
From their meeting, to post battle, to sharp-tongued arguments, to a particular exhausted night, to a rather long morning.
And he couldn’t find it.
What was the thing that made Alastor flip the switch, to change the steady pace they’d started going at without a word about it? Maybe he got genuinely pissed off by something he’d said?
In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. The hotel was running just fine whether Alastor was speaking to him or not, and Charlie seemed none-the-wiser, so he needn’t worry about it.
So why was he?
The seventh day the king had spent at the bar. He gave up trying to sleep late into the evening and instead headed downstairs, looking down every hall and into every room for any semblance the radio demon had passed by, but nothing. And he continued down until he reached the main parlor, Husk wiping down the counter with a warm soapy cloth, looking far too bored. Sometimes Lucifer wondered why he’d chosen the life he did, to be a bar-cat under Alastor’s thumb destined to be bored forever.
“I can practically hear ya’ staring sir.” Husk called from the bar, and when Lucifer came to those pale yellow eyes were looking up at him, an eyebrow raised in his direction. With a sigh, Lucifer made his way down the stairs and slumped onto a bar stool, chin resting on his palm and squishing his face so it looked far too distorted for anyone of his stature. However, that obviously wasn’t the first thing Husk noticed. His eyes trailed across his face, the tiniest hint of concern in his usual frown. “You look exhausted.”
The king couldn’t even manage a reply, simply humming as his gaze drifted off into the back of the bar, his blinks slow, his frown practically permanent as the wrinkles on his face stayed as comfortable as they had been the past few days.
“When did you last sleep?”
When did he last sleep?
“Eight? Nine?”
“Hours ago?”
“Days ago.”
“Ah.” Husk returned, turning around, turning back, assessing the situation once more before sighing, turning back around and grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the shelf. “That’s not the healthiest for you, you know.”
“Trust me,” Lucifer laughed out, adjusting so he was no longer supported by his arm, hands running down his face. “I know.”
“Is there a reason?”
Yes. His mind said yes there is a reason but he couldn’t pinpoint why exactly it was a reason. Why did Alastor’s return mean he couldn’t sleep?
“Yes?” He replied, groaning in annoyance, “I don’t know.”
“Here.” Husk passed over two fingers of whiskey, a little red and white umbrella resting on the side of the glass. “On the house.”
For a brief moment, Lucifer considered turning down the offer and paying for it himself, but the concern remained, and if this would ease the man’s worries? Who was Lucifer to turn that down.
“Thanks.” He huffed, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip. The burn was welcomed, and Husk’s eyes were off of him, so Lucifer allowed himself to let his thoughts wander again.
Humans, typically, can’t go without sleep for any longer than four days without hallucinating and going into a state of psychosis. But Lucifer wasn’t human, he’d gone weeks without sleep at some points and turned out perfectly okay.
But the questions of the day still rattled around his brain.
Why is Alastor avoiding me?
Why can’t I sleep?
Over and over, reminiscent of a carousel.
“I can practically hear you thinking.” Husk spoke up, once again knocking Lucifer out of it, once again drawing his attention. However, this time he was wiping down a glass, seeming much too disiniterested in whatever conversation he was trying to initiate. Then, he put the glass down and leaned against the bar, using his elbows as support.
“It’s nothing.” Lucifer brushed off, sipping his whiskey again, savouring the taste, wishing he could just sleep. Every muscle in his body hurt.
No matter how little he actually needed sleep, he’d gotten rather used to it, almost dependent on it.
“You’re losing sleep over it. I wouldn’t say that’s nothin’.” Husk urged, and Lucifer couldn’t help his sigh, knocking back the rest of the glass and holding it out again. The barman, although a tad reluctant, refilled it, and the glass was returned to the countertop.
There was a beat of silence. And then, “I don’t even know where I’d start.” He admitted, swirling the drink in his hands to create a satisfying whirlpool, mind only slightly wandering as he looked at it.
“Well, what is your main thought at the moment?” Husk tried, ever patient when Lucifer went silent again, turning his thoughts over once more.
Why is Alastor avoiding me?
Why can’t I sleep?
“Alastor has been avoiding me for the past week, and no matter how hard I try he won’t tell me why, he just saunters off with his stupid goodbyes and horrible excuses-“ Lucifer laughed, shaking his head as he did so, “I mean, he doesn’t even have any plants! Why does he need to water them? Honestly, sometimes I just want to crush his skull under my heel and watch him bleed out.”
Husk was silent for a long, considering moment. Then, in likely the least judgemental tone he could manage, Husk replied, “If Alastor was avoiding me, I’d be over the moon.” He said it slowly, as if making sure his words sunk in for the king who was far too tired to let any thoughts pass aside from the usual two. “Why aren’t you?”
Why wasn’t he?
Surely this was a wonderful development. Surely this made it easier to form a relationship with Charlie and to do his work around the hotel and live his life without an annoying pest constantly chattering down his ear in that crap radio filter which he doesn’t even need- like seriously, his normal voice is perfectly alright on its own, Lucifer would even go as far as to say better. God he wanted to hear it again-
Hold up.
Back track.
No.
Lucifer hates him, he’s a bug to be squished, an obstacle to avoid.
“Background noise couldn’t hurt.”
His voice had sounded so foreign, so new, so disused as if the filtered words utilised an entirely different voice box. And it suited him. Boy did it suit him. So much better than that crappy radio voice.
Husk laughed, more disbelieving than amused. “Jesus christ.”
Lucifer couldn’t help his frown. “What?” He replied, voice a little harsher than intended, but thankfully Husk didn’t take it with the grain of salt it was served with, instead continuing to let out that quiet chuckle.
“You’ve started to care about him.” Husk informed him, and if that wasn’t the stupidest thing. Sure he cared about Alastor just as much as he did every other resident, he treated them with the respect and support they’d earned. If anything, Alastor had the least of his respect; not many sinners insulted the king on their first meeting.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Husk laughed again, leaning further over the counter, “Is that why you can’t sleep?”
“No!”
Husk raised an eyebrow.
Lucifer frowned further, kicking back his whiskey again, holding it out again.
“Respectfully, your highness, you’ve dug yourself a deep as hell hole.” Husk told him, not reaching for the bottle of whiskey, Lucifer not retracting his hand. Which he probably should have. Lack of sleep has more consequences beyond exhaustion.
So yes, he did feel a bit more than tipsy already, but he was only going to retire for the night afterwards.
Maybe if he drank enough he would pass out.
“Don’t worry, I have wings, I’ll jus’ fly out.” Lucifer responded, waving his glass around. Reluctantly, Husk did as he was asked, but Lucifer had a feeling it was only because he was who he was; if this was someone else in his position, perhaps Angel, then Lucifer had a feeling Husk would hold back and refuse to intoxicate them any further. But, and this was something Lucifer had come to learn about Husk, he had a sense of self-preservation, and knew that it was probably easier to do as the King of Hell asks than risk defying his orders.
“Alastor isn’t that simple.” Husk told him, and Lucifer knew that. He did. Everything he did was calculated, every smile held a different emotion, every word he spoke had malicious intentions hidden between the syllables.
But he seemed simple.
He needed warmth, so he took the closest thing to it.
Underneath his guise of mystery, Alastor was human, just like the rest of them. Humans’ complexity, in Lucifer’s humble opinion, stems from their simplicity.
“Do you have any idea why he might be avoiding you?” Husk prompted, Lucifer swirling his whiskey again, ignoring the slight sway he held, ignoring the cotton feeling in his mind that threatened to still his thoughts.
“Yes, but that’s not for you to know.”
“It’s not like I’m not gon’na tell anyone.”
“That’s not why you can’t know.” Lucifer practically whispered back, holding his glass closer, eyes lidded as his tiredness washed over him again. Husk only seemed more thoughtful at this, forcing a silence for the moment that Lucifer felt he was massively grateful for.
Thankfully, Husk finally seemed at a loss, and stopped pushing the matter. Instead he just did his job; he finished cleaning the glasses, cleaned down the bar again, filled up Lucifer’s glass when requested, and finally flicked the lights off, leaving only a lamp in the parlor for lighting.
The barman turned to Lucifer, eyes watching him for a moment far too long, but by this point Lucifer was too gone to care — 5 drinks in and feeling like 15 in from sleep deprivation. Then, he took a step forward and placed a single paw on the back of Lucifer’s hand, the one holding his glass.
“Whatever the problem is, trust me it’s easier to fix it than to try will it away with alcohol.” Husk told him, patting the back of his hand twice before pulling it back and retreating for the night, his tail flicking around the corner being the last Lucifer saw of him that night.
And although he knew Husk was right, he couldn’t find it in himself to hold back, sipping his sixth glass quietly, letting the darkness wrap around him like a blanket, hoping he would pass out.
The average sinner would be surprised with just how many nights Lucifer had resorted to gripping an entire bottle and drinking from the neck of it. Of course, having a glass was preferable, especially in a place like the hotel where anyone could walk in at any point, but when he was alone that didn’t really matter.
Hah, alone. What a lonely word.
When you were alone, Lucifer reminded himself, taking another sip, no longer feeling the burn, eyes struggling to stay open even though he knew there was zero hope of drifting off.
And then there was the familiar squeak of a barstool.
And the glass was plucked from his hands.
Lucifer couldn’t help his whine at the loss, reaching for it back even though he still didn’t know who took it. He didn’t care. He hardly remembered what they took in the first place, but he knew it must have been important if he was so upset over it.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight, your majesty.”
At the sound of Alastor’s voice, Lucifer’s head immediately shot up, and despite the blonde hair falling in front of his eyes he managed to meet a disinterested face; Alastor’s usual wide grin was smaller, but it held less mischief than usual, something else had replaced it, written into those smile lines, something related to confusion if he had to guess.
“I ‘aven’t, gimme it back.” Lucifer returned, involutarily making grabby hands for the glass or even the bottle, both of which having been confiscated by the demon who seemed a tad unimpressed. Not to mention the slurred words, all mushed together into one so they were hardly intelligable.
“You can’t even talk properly.” Alastor observed, always pointing out the obvious. When Lucifer leaned forward again for the drink, Alastor only moved it further back with a pointed look. Then, as if he hadn’t taken a moment to do so before, Lucifer felt the demon’s gaze trail across his face, focused mainly on the eyebags that resembled purpled bruises more than anything else. “When did you last sleep?” He questioned, sounding more disgusted than intrigued or concerned, and Lucifer leaned lazily on his palm, kicking his legs beneath him with a giggle.
“Who knows? I’m jus’ out ‘ere livin’ my best life.” Lucifer slurred back. The only reply was a sigh before Alastor stood, offering a hand.
“Come on.”
“Where are we goin’?” Lucifer inquired, yawning as he took the offered hand with no hesitation, Alastor’s grip was firm but reassuring, warm but dry.
“We are going to your quarters and getting you to bed.”
“We?” Lucifer asked dazedly, walking beside Alastor who paid his jokes no mind, seeming numb to them for once. Not to mention the fact that he’d been gone for a week! Lucifer wasn’t going to forget that betrayal after a helping hand, no sir! “You wanna come to my quarters?”
“I want to make sure you get back without embarassing yourself.” Alastor decided on, and although it was a lie gritted out between those sharp teeth of his (Lucifer knew, in his heart of hearts, that Alastor would get immense joy out of Lucifer’s embarassment) Lucifer hummed in return, almost falling forward before a hand on his chest righted him, keeping him up and moving forward.
The silence was too much for Lucifer’s already full mind.
“Al?” He inquired, and the sinner hummed back. “Why’re you voidin’ me?”
Alastor paused, and Lucifer didn’t have the energy to look up and read his features, not a fan of the idea of breaking his neck at this hour. “I’m not avoiding you.” He finally replied, and Lucifer snorted, swinging their arms between them as if he was a five year old on the playground.
“Yes you- you are.” Lucifer managed out, hiccupping afterwards, leaning forwards only to be saved once again. “You don’t own any plants.”
At this, Alastor scoffed, “Who says?”
“Me. You wouldn’t look ‘fter it, you’d watch it die.” Lucifer responded, and Alastor didn’t have a reply to that, meaning he hit the mark.
But Alastor didn’t speak.
“Alastor~.”
“What?”
“Why’ve you been avoidin’ me?” Lucifer insisted again, and Alastor stopped in his tracks. When the king looked up and met those red eyes again, there was a warning in them, a flicker of anger, but Lucifer didn’t care. He rocked to the side, Alastor tugged him back upright.
“You’re drunk.” Alastor observed, as if he hadn’t noticed it yet. When Lucifer laughed, the sounds were laced together with the same thread his words were, almost indistinguishable from eachother.
“And you hate me.” Lucifer replied, tone saddened despite his smile. Alastor’s eye twitched, and even drunk the king noticed his shift in demeanor.
“Hate you?”
“I f*cked up,” Lucifer said blandly, as if it was obvious. “I messed up and made ya’ angry ‘nd you started avoidin’ me.” And despite that confused look Alastor was giving him, Lucifer knew it to be true. No one just started ignoring someone for no reason, and therefore Lucifer had messed up and ruined everything like he always does.
Hands were planted firmly on Lucifer’s shoulders, not too tight to inflict any pain but solid enough to be reassuring.
In all honesty, Lucifer wasn’t sure whether his reaction was the alcohol or not. Looking up at Alastor, who looked so certain and… almost kind for once, crimson eyes glimmering with confidence — not in his abilities or even himself, but in Lucifer. Lucifer, who was looking up practically starry eyed, mouth slightly ajar displaying his absolute fascination with the scene in front of him.
“Lucifer.” The way his said it, with absolute conviction, captured every last piece of Lucifer’s draining attention, each drunken part of his mind latching onto a different aspect. “As much as I loathe to admit it, thus far you have shown me only the upmost respect and support.” Then, Alastor squeezed his hands slightly, his smile becoming smaller — in a strange way Lucifer knew it wasn’t a negative thing, with the way it was less strained, more genuine in that regard. Well, in every regard.
It reminded Lucifer of a late night and an early morning.
“In these past few weeks, you have done nothing to drive me to hate you.”
It wasn’t often things like these happened.
In heaven, Lucifer was taught being himself was the worst of crimes, only solidified when he was banished to the deepest pits of the universe that soon became Hell, his land. His land of horrid, undignified humans who seemed to want nothing more than to hate and to murder.
So, when someone thanked him, it was like a bag being pulled off of his head, finally allowing those extra breaths to fill his lungs with clean oxygen.
It was a realisation that, despite it all, he was still, at heart, a good person. Well… person isn’t exactly the correct term, but Lucifer like to think a person is someone who holds values of civility, which he sure as hell did.
And he was shocked to find Alastor did too. When he wanted to, anyways.
Despite himself, Lucifer stepped forward and pulled Alastor into a hug, pressing his face into his chest as he laced his hands together on the small of his back. He wasn’t sure when the sobbing started, before or after Alastor’s hand rested on his back, pressing circles between his shoulder blades as if it was the easiest thing in the world, his other hand behind his head holding it in place.
It was unlike Alastor to allow any contact at all, or to show comfort in any capacity, so Lucifer decided it was in his best interest to stay exactly where he was, breathing in the smell of morning dew and charred wood until it nestled in his mind, a feel of exhaustion different to the rest overcoming him.
“What’s it then?” Lucifer mumbled finally, after standing there for what felt like hours, voice hardly understandable from the utter langour that encompassed him, only doubled by the fact Alastor didn’t seem to mind, continuing to hold him no matter how long he decided to stay.
“Don’t worry yourself over feeble matters, your highness.”
“That’s not m’ name.”
“Lucifer, then.” The king couldn’t help his smile. It sounded nice when Alastor said it, despite the radio tone it still held.
Okay that one was definitely his drunken mind talking.
“Let’s get you to your quarters then, yes?” Alastor prompted, and Lucifer couldn’t help but agree, yawning as he stumbled alongside the other, who now had an arm around his waist to keep him up. The king didn’t realise he’d started leaning on Alastor too, nor that Alastor didn’t shove him away, nor that, when they arrived at the door after two minutes of silent walking, Alastor opened the door and brought him in himself.
He could’ve left him there, brushed his hands of the dirt and left.
Instead, he walked him to the bed and sat him down.
“Get some rest, you look positively exhausted.”
“Why d’you th-think I was drinkin’ in the first place?” Lucifer returned, feel less tired by the second as that smell faded, Alastor a far enough distance away now that Lucifer couldn’t lean on him.
Which, mean.
Alastor blinked, then furrowed his brows, far too many thoughts crossing his face that, if Lucifer was sober, he could’ve deciphered, but the poison running through his veins dulled his observation skills leaving him to hope for the other to be honest.
“You can’t sleep either?” He asked eventually, and Lucifer didn’t bother processing the end of that sentence, nodding before falling back into his mattress, knowing another sleepness night was in store and dreading it.
The hangover wasn’t something he wanted to deal with awake.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”
And Alastor got up to leave.
First of all, he got up.
Any sense of exhaustion Lucifer felt dissipated in that moment, a realisation dawning on him that he knew wouldn’t remain in the morning.
It was Alastor.
That was the key to sleep.
And boy did he want sleep.
But he got up to leave.
He said it on impulse, mostly. But even an intoxicated man could make conscious choices, and this was one of those.
A choice that, despite all of the consequences he knew it would cause, Lucifer knew he wanted to make.
“Stay.”
When Alastor stopped walking, cane stilling on the floorboards, eyes staring straight forwards towards the door, frozen like he was the deer in the headlights, Lucifer knew he’d hit the nail on the head.
“I can’t.” Was Alastor’s reply, and it sounded so… sad. As simple a word as it was, that’s the only way Lucifer could think to explain it. Sad.
“Is-“ Lucifer started, forgetting his train of thought, regaining it, thinking better of it, and then conceding to saying it anyways, “Is that why you’re avoidin’ me?”
Alastor’s grip on his cane tightened, his head moving slightly so it faced the floor.
The king couldn’t help but notice how he suited the night-time glow, seeming almost at home, encompassed only by his main colour.
When Alastor didn’t reply, Lucifer took it as an agreement, “Stay.”
Then, after a long moment, Alastor took a deep breath, straightened his body, flicked his ears and swivelled on his heels, looking Lucifer dead in the eyes. Then, he exhaled, and his smile tightened again, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that Lucifer couldn’t decide whether it suited him or not.
“I’m not being given much of a choice am I?” Alastor practically hummed out, and Lucifer hummed back, liking the feeling and humming a tad longer than necessary.
“You’ve a choice, but we both know which choice you wan’na make, so stay.” Lucifer insisted, watching as Alastor finally, genuinely considered it. Then, slowly, he made his way around the bed, took off his shoes and jacket, and sat on the edge of the bed, practically breaking his neck to turn and face Lucifer, who was already drifting off with that scent having returned.
“You’ll regret this in the morning.”
Lucifer shrugged and lifted the duvet over himself, the warmth of it feeling more comfortable than it had all week. Despite seeming a little lost, Alastor joined him, lifting the duvet to his chest before turning to look Lucifer dead in the eyes again.
“This is stupid,” is what he said, and Lucifer couldn’t help his grin. Whoever said excessive drinking was always a bad idea was way off. If Lucifer was sober, he wouldn’t have even bothered asking.
“What’s stupid is you being such a puss* about it.” Lucifer scoffed back, only his muddled mind holding him back.
Yeah, those aforementioned self-preservation skills that Husk held? That Lucifer tended to possess even when intoxicated?
He hoped they’d kick in soon.
Soon.
Soon enough to stop him from acting-
And it wasn’t soon enough.
It was as if all sense had been thrown out of the window and the shards of glass flew back towards him, then proceded to stab into his flesh with how bad of an idea this was.
Lucifer moved over so he was resting right beside Alastor, head under his chin, almost asleep, almost passed out.
“God damn it.” Alastor muttered, sounded like a man newly proved wrong, and Lucifer didn’t even acknowledge it, smiling as he drifted off for the first time in over a week.
Oh he was so going to regret this.
