Chapter Text
Lucifer couldn't sleep. He hadn't been able to for nearing two days now. Not after— well, not after everything.
He was convinced that Alastor didn’t remember the interaction. Head was too full of alcohol to think about why he had awoken on his front, sleeping above his sheets. The fading warmth of another just cold enough to be mistaken for a dream. Lucifer had taken his leave almost as soon as he awoke, cheeks glowing in embarrassment and head fuzzy. Alastor had not acted any different, Lucifer intended to keep it that way. Even if his hands now itched to touch, (more so than before) he kept it to himself.
His eyes however, were a different story. They catalogued Alastor’s moves, from every twitch of his ear to the sauntering of his hips.
God, listen to himself— he was screwed!
He had had the best sleep of his life when he was resting with Alastor. Whether that was because he was sleeping with someone again, or because of just the presence— he didn’t know. He didn’t know and it pained him not to know.
It felt like he was drowning in feelings that he shouldn’t feel. He didn’t want to feel— he didn’t want to feel how nice it was, he didn’t want to remember how fluffy Alastor’s ears were. He didn’t want to remember how for once in years— decades, he didn’t feel so alone.
Lucifer had stayed locked in his room the past couple of days. Too wired to sleep, too anxious to eat. Curtains drawn shut. He didn’t need it. He was fine. Of course he was fine. Why wouldn't he be?
Lucifer rolled over in his sheets, blinking his eyes open and wiping away the grit that seemed to cling to the edges of them. God, he was so tired he could practically feel his eyebags.
This wasn't getting him anywhere.
He knew it wasn't.
Hmm, maybe this was the perfect time to try drinking the chamomile tea Charlie recommended.
Lucifer gingerly climbed out of his bed. Silently mourning the loss of the warmth of his sheets before tugging on his dressing gown and making his way down the stairs. The lift would be too bright right now. The muted crimson light filtering in from outside was just enough to light his way towards the kitchen.
As Lucifer approached, soft humming could be heard through the slight crack in the door. Yellow lamplight filtering through and spilling across the carpet. Lucifer blinked, adjusting his eyes as he gently pried open the door.
“Alastor?” Lucifer blinked blearily at the figure standing in the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes slightly. Alastor was swaying in the middle of the kitchen, humming to the radio over a large pot on the stove. His coat had been discarded. Replaced by his black and red trimmed apron. His red shirt tucked into his black slacks and his tail shoved through a hole in the back of them, twitching along with the music.
“Ah! Right on time Sire,” Alastor poured the gumbo into a small bowl and placed it on the table. A teaspoon resting on the edge.
“Wha-?”
“Come now, sit, we don’t waste good food in this hotel now do we?”
Lucifer blinked slowly, “no?”
Alastor turned and grinned, “that’s what I like to hear!”
And in Lucifer’s sleep deprived mind, Alastor should not look that charming. But oh, he does. Lucifer followed his instructions, plopping himself down in the chair Alastor had pulled out for him.
He came down for tea, but man the bowl in front of him smelled amazing. Lucifer picked up the end of the spoon and swirled the food around absentmindedly.
“Why did you do this?” He found himself asking. The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could call them back.
“You haven't been out of your room in days, I figured you would be hungry,” Alastor replied simply, placing a seal over the pot and shoving it to the back of the fridge with a sticky note stuck to the side of it.
It read; For anyone, no suspicious ingredients :)
Lucifer snorted and shovelled a spoonful of gumbo into his mouth.
“Oh hell, this is good.”
Alastor chuckled, leaning against the countertop, "I'm afraid hell had nothing to do with this, it was my mother’s recipe.”
Lucifer looked up through another spoonful, “She sounds like an amazing cook.”
Alastor nodded, a distant look overcoming his eyes as he cast them to the side, “she was.”
The silence was filled with the soft crackling of the radio and Lucifer’s– more than enthusiastic– moans for how good Alastor’s cooking was, (he chose not to mention the way that Alastor’s tail wagged softly with each compliment.)
Soon enough the bowl was empty and Lucifer’s body was feeling much heavier than it was when he got out of bed.
“It was good,” Lucifer mumbled, propping his elbow on the table and his head in his hand as Alastor cleared away the plate, “really good.”
“Im glad you think so,” Alastor hummed softly once more and Lucifer felt his eyes grow heavy.
Lucifer let his head drop, making himself a pillow out of his arms and watching Alastor across the kitchen from lidded eyes. It was so warm in the kitchen. Not only in temperature but in atmosphere. It was warm and it was soft and he was so tired. Lucifer blinked and when he opened them again Alastor was seated beside him. How long did he rest his eyes for?
“It's alright mon cher,” Alastor whispered, static curling through his words not as annoyance, but as comfort, “rest your eyes for a moment.”
“I’m so tired, Alastor,” Lucifer whispered against his pillowed arms, “so tired.”
“I know, you don’t have to for long though,” Alastor gently stroked back the stray hairs out of Lucifer's face “you can rest now, it’s alright.”
Lucifer whimpered at his words, a small involuntary sound but he couldn’t find the energy to be embarrassed.
“It’s alright,” Alastor repeated, “I’ll take watch.”
Lucifer could feel his eyes growing heavy. His blinks gained the weight of a mountain. Steady and strong just like the hand carding through his hair.
“It’s alright,” a voice whispered through the darkness closing in, and the funny thing was, Lucifer believed it.
It was joined by a soft melody starting up, Lucifer's eyes flickered but he kept them closed at the soft, elongated, “shush.”
“Come visit, in le jardin
On some sunny afternoon
Come find me, in the flowers
Like you always used to do—“
Lucifer hummed slightly against the soft voice. Tipping him further away. He was on a boat, a small one, rocking against the tides and the waves. But it was so gentle, and the hand never stopped running over his head. Through his blonde locks, erasing all of the tangles and knots that had seemed to appear over the past couple of days.
It was like the tension all over his body— that had been building for days— had broken. He felt as light as a doll and he barely felt it as Alastor lifted him into his capable arms. Wrapping his hands and clutching slightly at the back of Alastor’s jacket, Lucifer allowed himself to be carried wherever Alastor saw fit.
In hindsight this wasn’t probably the best option— Alastor could be taking him somewhere to kill him. Or at least try to.
But oh, he was warm and he was kind and his voice lulled Lucifer, settling something in him that he didn’t know needed tending to.
Maybe, he could let down his guard… just this once.