Chapter Text
Alastor stood in the throne room. He snarled but kept his cartoonish smiled on his face. He hated being here. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Lucifer, all high and mighty on his throne. He had an equally wide smile, his eyes reflected nothing but hostility. He hopped down, all hostility vanishing as soon as it had shown.
"Alastor, my deer! It's been too long!" the devil greeted, knowing full well that Alastor hated that nickname. He stepped closer to the radio demon, invading his personal space. If it had been anyone else, Alastor would've killed them on the spot. But unfortunately, this was the devil. So he had no choice but to tolerate it.
Lucifer looped his arm through Alastor's walking through the palace. He loved annoying Alastor this way. Neither of their smiles faltered once, Lucifer spoke first, "So, my deer, what have you been up to?" he asked with mock interest. Alastor's smile widened and his eyes narrowed for a moment. Static filled the air around him, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared. (Translation: I just really hate your face. Though I know that won't surprise you.)
He chuckled, the devil already knew what he had been up to; broadcasts, running around at the dilapidated hotel his daughter was trying to "upgrade" and whatnot. Regardless, he told him, "Oh, you know. Nothing much, helping Charlie run the hotel and whatnot," he said, waving his hand nonchalantly through the air.
Lucifer's grip tightened on the radio demon's arm. "Ah, yes, Charlie talks about you a lot! She says you're such a ...help," he snarled the last word like it was bile. While it was true Charlie spoke of Alastor, she didn't often speak of him in a positive way. If he had a nickel for every time Charlie had come home complain about that fucking (inaccurate, Alastor did not fuck) radio demon because he did something he'd probably have...hm, about 1897 nickels. (Translation: You disgrace the human demon race.)
His smile returned to usual but his grip stayed tight as he and the radio demon finally reached his study. They stepped inside, neither of them dared to stop smiling. Well of course Alastor wouldn't stop smiling. That's how he made people uneasy. How he gained the upper hand on them. But most of all it was his mask. He felt safe when he smiled.
Lucifer finally let go of Alastor's arm, slipping away around his desk, sitting on his high backed chair. Alastor felt a little tension leave him as the devil moved away from him. He dusted off his robes as if trying to get rid of the devil's finger prints. (Translation: To me your skin's one big wart.) He took a seat on the other side of the desk, his red eyes gleaming as he glared stared into the devil's eyes. "Well, devil dearest," he called, knowing Lucifer hated that nickname, finally breaking the silence after letting it drawl out for moments. "What did you want to talk about?"
As he asked this, Lucifer's eyes narrowed. He knew full well why he was here. The answer though; "Why my deer! Have you forgotten our annual tradition?" he asked, teasing clear in his voice. He knew how to push the radio demon's buttons, so to speak. "Of course not, devil dearest," Alastor retorted, Lucifer's eyes lingered on the vein nearly popping from his neck. (Translation: And so, in short I despise you)
Of course, the "annual tradition" in question was a secret to other sinners. They just thought the reason Alastor was going on more broadcasts was coincidence. Not at all to do with an excuse to see the devil each year- He shook those thoughts away and focused on the matter at hand. Lucifer was going on and on about something Alastor couldn't bother to care to listen to. He just nodded and hummed occasionally to act like he was at least pretending to pay attention.
He focused his energy on tracing the devil's features. His sharp cheek bones, glowing eyes, perfect, alabaster skin that he wanted nothing more than to tear into and let his eyes roll back as his blood poured into his mouth. He wondered how the devil would taste. Surely different than your average human or sinner. After all, Lucifer was a fallen angel. His blood probably tasted better than any exotic wine, made with the most sought after ingredients in the world. It probably tasted like Heaven itself, perhaps it would incinerate him immediately. He didn't care. As long as he got to taste the fallen angel's blood. Alastor was ripped from his cannibalistic daydreams, blinking as he tried to answer Lucifer's mundane questions.
Eventually it came time for the two to part. Lucifer preformed his usual gesture of wrapping his arm around Alastor's. A strange realisation had occured on Alastor. Each year they did this, Alastor had become more and more comfortable with Lucifer being so close. He wondered if he was forming a slightly unhealthy obsession. Once they were outside, Lucifer smiled sweetly, placing his hand on the radio demon's cheek. Alastor had to force himself to not lean against it. "I'll teleport you home, deer," Lucifer said, waved his hand through the air and flicking his wrist. A portal opened behind him, straight to the door of Alastor's radio tower.
Lucifer stepped to the side and Alastor walked towards it. He glanced at the devil once last time. He stepped through the portal, it disappeared behind him as soon as he was through. He spun around, he reaching his hand out through the air, as if hoping the portal would open again and he would fall into the devil's arms. But of course it didn't. And of course he would never wish that...right? No, no, of course not. He was the devil. He was his enemy. Of course he wouldn't wish to lie in bed with Lucifer for hours, talking about something other than hell's politics. Of course not, why would he? Besides, the devil has a wife...Of course he'd never look his way... Ever...(Translation: And if the world was perfect, you would be gone without a trace. But since the world hell could never be that great I'll just hate your stupid face.)
He exhaled unsteadily, spinning on his heel before entering his abode. He shut the door behind him, sinking to the floor. He clutched his head, resting it on his knees which were folded against his chest. Tears ran down his face, but he didn't stop smiling. He wasn't crying if he was still smiling. That's how it worked right? That's how it worked... It had to be. No one could tell him otherwise. After all, that's what his shadow told him. His shadow wouldn't lie to him. His shadow was the only one he could trust. His shadow was a part of him. Everyone else was wrong. Yes, that right, everyone else is the problem. Not Alastor. No, no, no, no, no. Why would Alastor be the problem? That was just ridiculous... Utterly ridiculous...