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"Yo, Charlie." Angel Dust calls out, as he enters the hall after her.
"Oh! Yes, Angel?" She spins around with an open smile, and Angel Dust hesitates a little.
"Uh... Listen, Charlie... It might just be me, but... have you noticed your dad actin' a bit... strange, lately?" He questions, being as indirect as possible, just in case she really hasn't noticed the dopey smiles, the looks when he thinks nobody's looking. The smile on Charlie's face drops to one of confusion, then contemplation, her gaze trailing over the walls in thought.
"Now that you mention it... he has seemed to be in better spirits recently, hasn't he?" She mumbles, mouth pursed. "And he's been less aggressive with Al!" Angel Dust would've done a spit take had he been drinking something, but as it is he stares at her with wide eyes.
"So you have noticed?" He carefully asks, because knowing the princess, she hasn't seen shit.
"Noticed what?" God. She's really got no idea.
"I mean. You're half right toots, your dad has been less aggressive with our resident smiler. Any idea why?" He prompts, and Charlie looks at him, with a frown, painfully unaware.
"Well, I think they're finally warming up to each other… I know Dad doesn't really like Alastor because of the whole... dad thing, I guess, but I've always thought the two could be good friends if they got past their whole rivalry thing." She says with a hopeful smile, and Angel grimaces.
"Yeah, they're certainly... good friends...." Charlie blinks at that, before gasping, stepping closer and rocking on her heels in excitement.
"Wait, really?! I knew they were less hate-y, but—"
"Charlie." He grabs her by the shoulders, two other hands coming up in front of him in a placating gesture. "Charlie," He repeats, "I'm like ninety percent sure your dad's got the hots for him."
She blinks at him.
"What?"
"Your dad." He annunciates slowly. "Mr. Ruler of Hell, Fallen Angel Extraordinaire. I think he's got a thing for ol' Al." Her mouth opens, slowly, as she stares at him, processing his words.
"You think..." She says, smiling nervously, her words veering between disbelief and panic. "My dad is in love with Al?" She finishes out the question with a squeak, one eye twitchin'. He shrugs with the arms not on her shoulders, his teeth bared in an apologetic, kind-of smile.
"Maaaybe...?" They stare at each other for a solid minute, before she's springing from his arms, dead sprinting to where her father's room is.
"Ohh, boy." Angel sighs to himself, silently apologizing to the man, before he's heading towards the bar, set on telling a certain someone all about it.
"DAD." Lucifer sputters, eyes gone wide with surprise as he topples from his chair, panicked as he tries not to drop the duck in his hands to the floor.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Dad. Are you okay?!" She rushes over to his new little workbench, and he groans as he pushes himself up from the ground, dazed.
"Yeah, yeah I'm alright, Char." He gladly takes her hand, and once he's back on his feet he places the duck back on his workbench, turning to face her and lean back up against it, nonchalantly fixing his tousled vest. He settles himself, and goes to ask what he can do for her when he gets a look at her own frantic appearance, his face quickly shifting to concern.
"Is something wrong?" He asks, standing straighter, looking her over for injuries, or any clue as to what's happened to have her look this disheveled.
Charlie stares at him, her mouth agape, closing and opening like she can't quite figure out how to voice her thought. With each second that passes, he gets a little more nervous.
"Charlie—?"
"Are you in love with Alastor!?" She shouts out, and Lucifer freezes, mouth open. She's still looking at him intensely, her chest heaving a little with both the running, and how loud she had just yelled. It's silent between them, Lucifer blinking aggressively, like perhaps he misheard her.
"Am I... What?!" He seems to finally consolidate this is in fact real, and his daughter just asked him if he was in love with the man he hated most. The most-est. He suddenly pushes himself away from the desk, hands held up in front of him, waving frantically.
"What?! No! Woah, hoh, ho. Wow." He's grinning, but it's wobbly, and paired with him now restlessly pacing, only makes him look more unsure. "Hah!! No!! Nope, no, no." Each words loses its humor and enthusiasm, leaving him with plain awkwardness. "Uh, yeah, no." He looks harrowed, and his daughter is looking at him similarly. He sees her gaze slide to the duck he'd been working on prior, and horror washes over him as he takes in it's red hair, tail, and a little red suit, black bowtie and antlers to match. He dives to grab it, just as Charlie's eyes widen with recognition, and with it in his hands he cradles it to his chest, attempting to hide it from her wide-eyed gaze.
"That! That uh! Not what you think!" He quickly says, looking away like a man caught red-handed.
"Dad..." Her gaze suddenly softens, and he can't help but wilt under it.
"Charlie..."
"Charlie!" The door suddenly bursts open, and both Morningstars freeze, wide-eyed at the voice. "I had thought something wrong, when you didn't show to our rendezvous!" Charlie gasps, immediately apologetic.
"Oh— Al, I'm so sorry, I forgot! I had just got so caught up, and, and Angel caught me so off guard—!" A low hum laced with static, and Alastor waves off the concern, smile softening. He steps further into the workshop, and Charlie watches from the corner of her eye as her father slowly steps away, his already rosy cheeks ablaze with bright red.
"Oh, don't fret, dear. It's no problem, you're quite busy nowadays, and one missed meeting isn't the end of the world." And like a predator catching a whiff of fearful prey in the area, his gaze snaps to Lucifer, who freezes, and then back at Charlie, who starts sweating, as he looks to be realizing he's walked into a very interesting situation.
"I, ah," His gaze settles on her father, who is very focused on a pile of ducks near his feet. "Hope I wasn't interrupting?"
"No!" Both father and daughter shout at the same time, turning to look at each other with panicked looks.
"Uh, well—"
"We were just—-"
They start again, stopping when both overlaps the other, and Alastor stares between the two, immensely amused at their distress.
"We were just," Charlie starts slowly, her father staring at her pleadingly, "caaaatching up! We were just, hah, catching up! Right, Dad?" Lucifer frantically nods.
"Yes! Exactly that, just some father-daughter bonding, ey Char-char?" He steps over to her and nudges her, and she laughs nervously as Alastor watches, his smile giving nothing of his thoughts away.
"Of course. Nothing like some tense, emotionally-driven family bonding to start the day!" He twirls his cane, staring at it in his hands as he speaks, both Morningstars watching as if he might spontaneously chuck it at one of them. He finishes out with a thoughtful glance over the two, before stalking closer, standing only an arms-width from them. Charlie watches with wide eyes as Alastor bends forward, till he's eye level with her father. Alastor hovers there, and Charlie watches as blush creeps up her father's neck, his eyes wide and locked with Alastor's own. Alastor tilts his head, and she steps forward because her father slightly stumbles, and she thinks he's genuinely about to faint. Then, a clawed hand reaches out and something is plucked from Lucifer's grasp. Alastor steps back, returning to his full height.
"Hrmm." Propped up in his hand is the duck, and Charlie thinks her father might not survive, able to feel the heat of his embarrassment from where she stood. Actually, no, that's fire. Her father has set himself sightly on fire. She thinks he's trying play it off as being angry but it very much isn't working.
"I believe you've forgotten my monocle, Lucifer." He says coyly, inspecting the duck in his hands, and something about his tone is enough to set her father back on steady ground, as he looks back at Alastor with narrowed eyes.
"Well, excuse me for not wanting to look at you that closely." He huffs, the flames on his person dissipating as he crosses his arms, looking away. Alastor's grin sharpens, as he rotates his wrist to look at the rest of the duck, raising an eyebrow.
"Clearly. Why, you've given me a tail. Why ever would you do that?" Charlie also turns her gaze to her father, because in truth, she's actually curious too… She's never seen Alastor with a tail, though to be fair, she's never really seen Alastor out of his current outfit. Her father looks like he did when she'd barged in earlier— completely out of his depth.
"Aha," He laughs, looking away, "I mean. You're like, a deer." He looks like he has more to say, but Charlie has the distinct feeling that saying it would only be digging himself a deeper hole. Alastor looks like he's about to start grilling him, and Charlie isn't quite sure her father could survive that.
"Oookay!" She claps her hands together, and the two turn to look at her. "I should, uh... get going... It was great catching up with you, Dad!" Her father looks at her like she's just stabbed him in the back and left him for dead. She would stay but... she's got her answer, clear as day. Regardless, as she starts walking towards the door, Alastor letting her, her father stares, begging.
"Charlie, Charlie, wait, uh—" He starts looking around, as if that'll give him a reason to ask her to stay, and she smiles, soft and bright and reassuring.
"Don't worry, Dad. You answered my question." He stops, staring at her. She opens the door, winking and giving him a big smile and a thumbs up, before slamming it closed, leaving him to his fate.
Lucifer stares at the door to his new workshop, firmly shut, and very aware of the dark splotch of red in the corner of his vision. Charlie, his amazing, wonderful, daughter and an absolute traitor, had left him. She barges into his workshop, accuses of him of being in love, then leaves him! With the guy she accused him of being in love with! What! He clears his throat, rolls up his sleeves, because he's still feeling a little too hot, and sits back down. Alastor watches him as he does.
God, why did he have to show up at the most inconvenient time!?
He internally curses him, curses his luck, and curses everything else for good measure, before turning to look at the red-clad demon.
"Why have you even created this... facsimile of me?" The source of all his problems asks, holding his precious duck up like a specimen to inspect, holding it by the head in two clawed fingers.
"Target practice." He grumbles, his composure slowly returning now that he isn't making a complete fool of himself in front of his daughter. Alastor makes a staticky displeased noise, and then throws the duck in his direction, leaving him scrambling to catch it. He misjudges and the thing nails him directly in the damn forehead, with a mocking squeak.
"Yes, it works quite well for target practice." The nuisance smirks, and he growls back, rubbing the spot it hit. He looks down, the thing landing in his lap, and those beady little eyes stare back at him.
"Like recognizes like, I suppose. Bet you're just as easy to throw around." He throws up a hand in emphasis, the other moving subconsciously to grab the duck. He holds it up, before setting it a little too harshly back onto the workbench. "I'm sure Adam would know." He watches Alastor's smile grow displeased, and can't help but feel a bit of vindication. Yet... watching Alastor closely, seeing the way his hand twitches ever so slightly towards his chest that Lucifer knows is still injured, he can taste the holy power from here, he wishes he hadn't brought it up. It makes something uncomfortable curl up in him, something that's only started these recent weeks. Something that makes him wish he'd taken Adam out himself, watched the man suffer.
He inhales sharply, looking away.
"Very funny." Alastor drawls out, his tone low, and the static dancing in his words rising.
Lucifer looks back at him then, and the radio demon is looking elsewhere, but his brow is furrowed, and his smile looks more like a grimace, and maybe it's Charlie rubbing off on him, but he can't muster anything crueler to respond with. Instead he sighs, gets up, and steps out from around his workbench, rounding to stand in front of the demon, who stares at him with wary eyes.
"You're still injured." He states, crossing his arms. Alastor minutely tenses, gaze trained steady on the shorter man.
"Perhaps."
"Oh," Lucifer scoffs, poking him in the chest, to which Alastor hisses at, "don't perhaps me. You know I can tell." Alastor doesn't pull away, surprisingly, but he does glare down at him. They've had this conversation before. In fact, a day after Alastor had returned to the hotel, Lucifer had tracked the man down and interrogated him as to why he was reeking of holy presence. Suffice to say, they'd had to replace a brand new wall.
"You aren't healing it." Alastor stubbornly says for the nth time, and Lucifer groans.
"Why the hell not, Al? I've got unlimited powers here buddy, and you're not gonna find anyone better to heal a holy injury." He knows it’s futile, over these past few weeks of getting to know the stubborn bastard he'd found out quickly enough he found a hill to stand on and stayed there. Before he can recite the same ten lines as always, Lucifer sighs loudly, knowing if this was to work, he'd need to do it on the demon's terms.
"Listen, if you die to some stupid injury because you hid it from everyone, Charlie will be devastated. Do you want that? No. You don't. So, let me heal it." He tries, hoping maybe, just maybe he'll listen this time, and he won't have to resort to his plan.
"An injury so inconsequential as this will not kill me." He responds, expectedly, infuriatingly.
"It's been four weeks, Alastor!" The words burst out of him, unbidden, and its a surprise to them both. He hopes the demon goes oblivious to the desperation beneath the words. He takes a deep breath, and moves the hand between them so his palm is up.
"Fine. What do you want?" Alastor looks at him, uncomprehending.
"What do you want, Al? A deal?" His eyes widen. "Is that what it'll take to let me heal you before you keel over?"
"You'd make a deal," Alastor says slowly, rolling the words like a fine wine, "just to heal me?"
Lucifer swallows.
"No," he lies, "I'd make a deal, to save Charlie the pain, which you aren't worth, if you died." Alastor stares at his outstretched palm, over grey fingers. He stares at the glint of gold on that pinky, before brushing the hand away with his own.
Lucifer stares, his hand falling back to his side, in disbelief.
"For the King of Hell, you make horrible decisions." Alastor says, and Lucifer is too far in shock to even be offended. "Since you're so desperate, I suppose it'd be far too rude of me to say no." The demon sighs, as if this is a minor inconvenience, before looking down expectedly.
"Wh, Wha—" Lucifer sputters, looking up, affronted. "After all that, you—- I just offered you a deal. The King of Hell just offered you a deal." Alastor shrugs, as if he'd not just completely shattered the image of himself he'd created. Alastor, Overlord, Radio Demon, turning down a deal? Lucifer has since done his homework on the man, especially after he'd made his deal with Charlie, and this was not the sort of sinner that turned down a deal. He'd made a deal with Charlie, why not him?
He quickly shuts down that line of thought, because he should not be jealous of his daughter for having made a deal.
Alastor blinks at him, that infuriating smile still in place, never not, and gestures at his chest. Lucifer makes a noise of frustration, tugging at his own hair.
"I don't understand you! You, you freak! God, why are all my people freaks!?" Alastor chuckles darkly, clearly reveling in the mental suffering he causes him. He detangles his hands from his hair with a long, sharp sigh. He raises his hands to hover over the demon's chest, his features settling into concentration. Might as well get to it before the fucker changes his mind.
"Okay. It shouldn't hurt, but if it does, tell me. Ready?" He glances up to confirm, and as he does, his breath stutters. Alastor's eyes are set steady on him, his smile small and void of teeth, and really he doesn't look all that different but there's something in the way he's looking at him, at how close he realizes he actually is.
"I’m ready as I'll ever be." Alastor singsongs, and he quickly turns his gaze back down. Focus, Lucifer, let's not accidentally kill the man you might possibly love because you were distracted.
Does he love him?
Really, really not the time. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself and his thoughts, his hands glowing bright.
In the end, the hardest part of this entire process was convincing Alastor to let him heal him. It takes no less than a few minutes to heal the worst of it. Sure, the wound is festering in holy power, but Adam is sloppy, and the damage isn't too deep.
Though, it is deep enough that were it not treated, he's unsure Alastor would've come out the other side entirely in tact.
"Alright," He mumbles, wrapping up the healing of some other minor wounds, "That should—" Alastor sways, suddenly, and then Lucifer barely catches the man over his shoulder before he topples to the floor.
"Oh my god! Shit! Are you alive?" He's met with a disgruntled noise, and a hand grasping at his vest.
"Didn’t... tell me it'd drain me..." Alastor mumbles, extreme annoyance lacing every word, his voice growling and… completely void of his usual accent and static. Lucifer could not be more glad the demon can not see him, because his jaw drops, and he nearly drops the man at the sudden way his body freezes.
"Oh, fuck." He intelligently says, brain replaying those words, the way his voice sounds so, so different without the radio voice. It is aggressively attractive. Lucifer feels lightheaded, which is not good considering he has an armful of radio demon. He hopes he thinks he’s cursing because he forgot, and not because he’s very suddenly learning some things about himself.
"Shit, sorry, I totally forgot. Uh, well! You didn't die so, hooray!" His response is an even grumpier growl, and the man slumping further, clearly not happy with the situation. Lucifer laughs nervously, scanning his workshop for a place to put an unhappy, tired Alastor.
"Right, couch, perfect, let's just uh," He grunts as he tries to situate Alastor half over his shoulders, half in his arms. "Off we go!" He still sort of has to drag him over there, since he is taller than him, but they make it. He attempts to not throw him onto the couch, but instead gently sort of place him down. As he does so, something ticklish flicks him across the face, and first he feels confusion— before he realizes it was an ear. One of those fluffy black ears, both of which are air-planed flat in distaste, had flicked across his face. There is a sudden burst of warmth in his chest, the same way one might feel when a cat does something like place their paw on you, and overwhelmed, he accidentally drops Alastor the rest of the way onto the couch. He lets out an undignified sound, before quickly checking over the demon, rolling him onto his back, where he instead turns to his side, curling into himself. His eyes are shut tight, expression pinched yet still smiling.
"Does anything hurt?" He asks, worried, and the demon's ears flick again, and Lucifer wonders how he had never noticed. He had genuinely thought them strange, freestanding tufts of hair. He's even seen them move before, but sinners have strange forms, and he figured moving hair was just one of Alastor's.
"Not injured," Alastor replies, voice back to its radio host quality, "Just horribly fatigued." He finally opens his eyes to glare at Lucifer, who hovers beside the couch nervously.
"...Well, I'm not that sorry. I think you kind of deserve it." Alastor groans, annoyed, and Lucifer snickers at him. "You'll be fine, just uhhh, sleep it off, y'know?" He suggests, and Alastor rolls his eyes.
"And what will you do?" Alastor asks, turning his head to stare up at the fallen angel, a strange reversal of their usual positions. Lucifer blinks. He can't just leave him here alone, and he wouldn't want to, with the demon so vulnerable. He scans the room, then looks back at Alastor. His gaze lands on the duck, and he's suddenly reminded of Charlie. He looks back.
Alastor is blinking at him, the movement sluggish, his smile small and tired, not really any indication of his mood, but a permanent fixture. His ears are still flicked backwards, occasionally giving a lazy flick. Lucifer thinks that maybe he doesn't deserve to see him this way. Horribly soft, horribly open. He thinks about similar late nights where he's seen him just as this, those nights where the day had been long, the tasks for the newly restored hotel endless, and at the end of the day, there was a quiet between them, something unaddressed and unnamed. He thinks about their bickering, how the anger morphed somewhere along the way to simple annoyance, then to a thrill only shared between the two of them, their secret dance no one else knew the steps to. He can't recall when his anger-filled glares when the man turned his back had turned horribly, horribly soft. He swallows the lump in his throat down, and recalls Charlie. She said he'd answered her question.
He thinks, that he knows, too.
He sighs, the sound fond, and carefully slips the gold ring from his pinky finger.
"Scootch over." He says, amused, watching as Alastor, now very much awake, pushes himself up with his arms, wide eyes watching him slip the ring into his pocket.
"What." Alastor asks, deadpan, and Lucifer only smiles wider at his natural voice. He stalks over, sitting on the part of the couch Alastor had forfeited when he had risen. The static rises back in a sudden wave, and with it— a faint tune, something jazzy and soft. Alastor looks almost embarrassed at the sudden sound, and Lucifer feels silly and giddy with it.
"What?" He echoes back, grinning wide, his giddiness seeping into the word. Some mix of anxiousness at something so permanent shifting, changing, and thrill at leaving something else behind. The song gets louder, and Alastor is still sitting up, staring at him with wide eyes, smile small and dumbfounded. Lucifer catches a few words, louder than the static, and Alastor must notice, because he's glaring at the air, as if that'll make it stop, because the song, without a doubt, is a sappy, longing, love song. There's the faintest hint of red upon the radio demon's face, and Lucifer has to physically stop himself from giggling at the sight, and then laughing at the fact he feels like giggling.
"Turn it up, Al." He does laugh out, and Alastor turns fully red at that, especially when the song does exactly that. He does giggle then, holding his hands out. Alastor stares at them, and only hesitates for a moment before taking them, and Lucifer's dragging him close, up onto his chest, laughing in a youthful dizziness he hasn’t felt in so, so long, to the sound of lovey-dovey music and Al cursing at him, too stuttered and too red for it to have an effect. Alastor huffs, and aggressively shoves his face into his chest, which makes his ears slap him in the face, making him laugh harder.
He thinks then, when red eyes peek out to glare at him, that the answer is yes. For better or worse, he does, and he will, and he'd have it be no one else.
The ring in his pocket weighs heavy, and he thinks resolutely that it will stay there.
"You're insufferable." Alastor mumbles into him, and Lucifer snorts, about to quip back when he notices Alastor's red overcoat moving. Alastor sees where he's looking, and turns about as red as said coat.
"Do not." The staticky accent lacing his words returns with a vengeance, and it's almost enough to deter him, were it not accompanied with sweet singing. He gives Alastor time to stop him as he reaches for his coat, and when he doesn't, he flips the end of his coat, and lo and behold--
"Tail. You do have a tail—!" Said tail is swatting back and forth like an overexcited hellhound's might, and Lucifer thinks he may die. Alastor suddenly pushes up, moving up into his face and blocking his view with a snarl.
"Say a word, and I'll rend this place to the ground. Again." Lucifer grins right in his face, not threatened in the slightest, despite the brief slip of pupils into radio dials, and the glow of green power, because love tunes are still playing, loud and steady.
"Well, I rebuilt it once. I'll do it again." The song ends, and Alastor slumps, grumbling against his chest again. Another song starts up, just as sweet sounding, and Alastor curses in contempt.
"Oh, fuck you." Alastor says up into the air, defeated and without his radio flair, the song jaunting right along, filling the space between them. Lucifer laughs, and begins humming along, closing his eyes, swaying gently, arms held securely around the demon laying atop him.
He feels Alastor thump back against his chest, an ear flicking at his chin, mumbling softly into him.
He wouldn’t trade this for anything.