patheticandmiserable
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His chest wasn’t healing; the gash was still clumsily stitched and bandaged, residual angelic magic still sapping his strength. It was like a virus, demanding all of his body’s energy to fight it and leaving him susceptible to other illnesses. It was bad enough now that he had no choice but to completely isolate himself, or else word would get out that the Radio Demon was vulnerable. Alastor’s grip on the sink tightened. He felt trapped.
AKA “Who put this angst in my kink fic?”
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Alastor insists on working despite being sick. Charlie, always looking out for him, makes sure he rests when he needs it.
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“I think we should call it a day early and head back. You don’t sound well.”
“Neither do you,” Vox pointed out, congestion clearly settling into his voice. “I’m fine, though! We don’t have to leave.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Vox and Alastor both come down with a cold after a night of drinking together. Neither of them want to admit they’re feeling a little off, trying to push through it until the other rests.
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Alastor sometimes struggles to control his magic when he’s sick. When he’s unable to sleep and at risk of damaging the hotel, he gets Lucifer to calm him down.
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I rushed through this to get it out before Christmas, so just- ignore all the issues
Alastor gets sick right before Sinsmas, and Lucifer doesn’t want him to feel left out during the celebration.