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The connecting thread between all demons worthy of power is their ability to change their shape to suit their needs. Everyone sinner and above in their hierarchy can expand and shrink, pop limbs in and out of place, bring eyes forward when extra sight is needed, puff their feathers in a blaze or frost, and the list goes on with where the checkmarks lie depending on the individual. Otherwise, they’d never have anything accessible to everyone, because how do they build doors big enough for the sins? Where do you shop when you have gills instead of lungs? This variety in their being means a variety in everything, from diets, hygiene, to sleep.
Lucifer had to take that into account as he procured materials for each room. Angel Dust’s bathroom needed both an actual shower and a way to bathe in dust, since he laughed nervously when asked if someone needed to groom him, meaning it’s better to let him do it himself with a fluff of sand over his pelt. Husk pretended he didn’t need something to scratch on when other people listened in on his requests, but he privately (and drunkenly) admitted his claws will itch with old flakes he can’t just buff off, so Lucifer made an alcove in the corner of the room by the ceiling away from prying eyes with everything a winged creature could stretch their paws over. Niffty shocked him with her inability to grow, so he made sure all the furniture in her room could accommodate her, with a way to make chairs and tables raise after she sits down if she wants a guest for tea (and she did, seeing how Alastor’s smile grew a bit wider when she could comfortably pour them drinks while he enjoyed more than enough leg room). He never paid much attention to what his people needed, since they learned long ago how to overcharge on basic means of care without his interference, but now he has to reckon with just how different they are.
And how different he is. He chooses to look so woefully human every moment he’s awake, and his daughter usually takes after it, so by all means, he should have a human-ish room. Charlie has a human-ish room. Or, at least, she did in the old hotel. She pulled him aside to whisper to him.
“Dad, do you mind helping me with something?”
“Of course, sweetheart! Anything for you, remember?”
“Okay.” She twisted her hands together with a look of trepidation. “So, Vaggie and I showed you our room on your original tour of the hotel, and you saw how it was laid out, and it was great! But it was kind of based off of some…assumptions, and I was looking for your advice so I can set up something nice for her.”
He could not be more lost, and he actually caught every word from her mouth this time. “I…hm?”
“Do angels need anything?”
“Oh! Oh. Oh, you didn’t—you didn’t know. That.”
“Wait, you knew?”
“Umm.” He stretched his lips to let himself taste the air as he drummed an unsteady beat on his cane. There’s no way out of this, is there? He purposefully refused to explain how he feels confident enough to play with his food (his food being angels like Adam and demons like Alastor) because it sounds condescending. He can feel someone’s power, a buzz that he tastes in his serpentine tongue, and everyone is so clearly below him as soon as he meets them that he can’t find it to feel danger in their presence. Demons feel like a slightly uncomfortable heat or a barely noticeable musk since he’s so used to them, but he hasn’t dealt with an angel in person in so long. Vaggie practically stabbed him in the roof of the mouth as soon as he focused his attention on her, a cold chill and the scent of petrichor that only comes with exterminations. Exorcist sloughed off of her in waves, but she didn’t have the strength to feel like a threat. He always assumed that Charlie experienced the same, but never said anything. Instead, he’s swallowing thickly over the realization that she’s been blindly trusting the radio demon that buzzes the very air with sour static. “I had a feeling?”
“Of course you could tell.” Charlie took a moment to groan before she collected her thoughts, pressing her hands together in a pleading motion. “Dad, I really want to surprise Vaggie with something nice. I know you sometimes get a bit…weird with your angelic-ness, but—”
“Weird? Who’s weird?” He chuckled, letting his wings flutter out in an attempt to disprove it. “I don’t hide it, Charlie. Quite the opposite!”
“But you do focus on looking very…human.”
“Ah, well, you know your mother. She always thought I would scare you with the glowing eyes and snake halo.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Honestly, it’s fine with me. So you want to find something holy for her? Remind her of her old stomping ground?”
“Actually, she hated every second we were in Heaven.” Charlie mumbled under her breath about how she should’ve put two and two together before that, then continued, “I just want to make sure she’s taking care of herself. So, if there’s anything that you use to help yourself out, maybe she needs it too, you know?”
“Ah!” He snapped his fingers, finally connecting the dots. “Like a birdbath.”
“Wh—Dad no. Wait, do you use a birdbath?”
“Ooooooof course not. I just thought your girlfriend would want one. For reasons. Because angels like birdbaths.”
“Dad, why are you talking like you have no idea what an angel would want?”
He sighed, shrinking for a moment. Lucifer promised himself that he’d start working harder to connect to Charlie, and be honest, but…he’s never going to be ready for this conversation. Best to keep it light and skim over the darker side of it. “Honey, I haven’t been an angel in a very, very long time. There’s so much time between when I was there and when Vaggie was, that I couldn’t tell you a single thing about what someone from Heaven needs. You could explain to me that she needs to eat the dead skin off your toes and I’d believe it.”
“Ooookay. I’m going to skip over that last part and rephrase the question so you understand it better.” Charlie took a moment to think before pressing her index fingers together and pointing with an awkward smile. “How do you sleep with wings?”
“Charlie. You have wings. You should know.”
“Yesssss but I stopped showing them off when I was little, remember? I hide them all the time now. Vaggie just regrew hers and is sensitive about them, so I want to support her with the wing thing and also have mine out. So, sleeping with wings. How does it work?”
“You sleep like a human, but let the wings be a blanket.”
“And crush all your feathers? Doesn’t that hurt?”
Lucifer shrugged. “They’re easy to fix with preening, and feathers bent too far out of shape can hurt, but I’m used to pulling them out. After a few tries it’s no worse than tugging off your own fingernail.”
“Dad, are you even taking care of yourself?”
Oh, that’s concern on her face! So what he said isn’t normal. Good to know, good to know. He summoned a pocket watch from his vest specifically so he could check it and pretend to be surprised. “It’s getting late, and I need to get my room ready for my first night at your hotel, love you sweetie, have fun, bye!”
“D—”
He popped out of existence and reappeared in his tower before she could finish. Yeah, when he goes back on that conversation in his head, casually admitting that he hurts himself in his depressed refusal to sleep properly wasn’t the best look, especially not to his own daughter. On the bright side, he was incredibly present for that conversation! He should reward himself for that, popping open a habushu bottle he pulled from the ether. He squinted at the floating coils in the middle of his alcohol for a second, shrugged, and chugged straight from the neck of it.
Alright. His tower is hexagonal, so a workbench along one of the walls, then a desk for actual paperwork on the wall adjacent. He needs his dresser, right? Oh, and a closet, since his coats and vests should stay hanging. Moving here means losing the staff at his castle, so he regrettably needs to make sure he’s actually putting laundry in the basket, instead of slumping over in the middle of the floor as a pile of sadness and white satin. Does the maid do his laundry as a part of her duties, or does he do it himself? Remembering how eager she was to climb up his chest, he decided that he’s putting a lock on the top of the hamper to keep anyone but him from touching it. Actually, the little gremlin can probably pick locks. He changed it to a twisting snake that’ll bite anyone who isn’t him. Or Charlie. Don’t bite Charlie.
Great! He can fudge the furniture layout later, but he has all his necessities. Now for the bed. He raised his hand to teleport his old one over, then paused.
That was their bed. He never changed it, because he didn’t want to watch imps struggle out the door with it, and he equally didn’t want to just force it to stop existing. This could be his chance to pick something that’s actually his, for the first time since he arrived in Hell.
But what would he even want? Lilith was the one who brought forth the idea of a bed in the first place. Apparently, new sinners didn’t like that they still had to sleep on mats on the ground, and they invented the structure while topside. Before that, Lucifer sheltered her in his wings, and she always seemed to love it.
They stopped cuddling like that when Lilith learned about blankets, and then pillows, which she hated that he always shredded with his horns. He can’t help it, they grow in his sleep without him asking! Others when dealing with poor mental health will toss and turn, and he summons a tail or digs claws into the comforter. It’s not his choice, and it got bad enough that she insisted on sleeping in different beds after Charlie was born.
He really should’ve figured out that sign in hindsight. After the divorce, though, sleeping with too many limbs became a constant. When he falls asleep with four limbs and wakes up laying on broken feathers, he gives up on looking human when he tucks into bed altogether. It’s easier. And yes, he sleeps like a human, because Lilith always slept like a human, and it would be really weird for him to curl up at the foot of the bed like a dog or something.
But it makes his head throb when his horns knock into the bedposts, he wakes up every once in a while with the sudden realization he can’t feel his tail, and regrowing the feathers he rips out every morning is a chore. Lilith isn’t coming back, so why keep doing something that makes him more miserable?
He’ll sleep like an angel.
How do angels sleep? He dug sharp teeth into his knuckle, wondering where to even start with that. Tiredness wasn’t really a thing before the apple, since everyone loved their work, and work was good, and because work is loved and good, you don’t get that ache in your limbs. So, he has zero experience with this. Maybe it’s like the sitting still and relaxing thing that the elder angels tried so he’d stop mucking up all their plans?
He summoned a pillow onto the ground, fluffing it up before snapping himself into pajamas. It’s worth a shot for a few minutes, right?
Hooves crossed, he fluttered six wings and curled a tail around his legs. Nothing is getting in the way or squished, at least. His horns aren’t trapped at an awkward angle to avoid shredding his wife’s sheets. Maybe he can sleep like this.
Now, to close his eyes and wait for sleep.
When he opened them again, they were a bit crusty, so he didn’t just blink too slowly. He stayed ramrod straight as he withdrew the pocket watch again, holding the face up to his own. An hour and a half isn’t bad.
At least, not until he moved.
The crack of his neck sounded like a tree falling, his vision spraying with spots. Right, heavy-ass horns plus thousands of years of age equals awful horrible neck pain ow ow ow. He whimpered pathetically as he moved his knees, more popping required to return blood flow to his hooves. It’s hard to have a good back when ten limbs and a tail are attached to it, but at the moment that he adjusted his vertebrae to stand up again, he knew why being a demon is supposed to be torture. He scooped up the bottle as he splayed over his wings, letting the feathers scream in protest as he tipped the alcohol toward him. He really needs the kick in the pants after that. Thank himself that he wasn’t capable of feeling this pain when the Lucifer-only quiet times were mandatory in Heaven.
So. New idea.
He patted the pillow with his free hand, watching it bounce and expand into the trunk of a tree, curving over so it took up the center of the apple. Some animals sleep upside down in trees, and that’ll keep him from feeling all the weight from his horns. No ruining any limbs, and he can see himself explaining this to anyone walking in without them being too confused. Lucifer scrambled up the tree just high enough to be hidden in its canopy, wrapping his tail around the thinnest part of the branch. He fluttered his wings, shaping them into a warm cocoon to curl into.
Yeah, this can work. He kind of wished he had a better hold on the tree, but wedging a hoof in there won’t help, and he doesn’t trust his ability to maintain multiple tails when he’s relaxed. He let his breathing slow.
Snap.
He could feel the wind on his wings, but he was too disoriented to flip himself and fly. He barely got his wings open to see half a branch curled in his tail, the tree itself falling farther and farther away.
Crunch.
He gasped with the wind knocked out of him, landing right where the shoulder of his arm meets the shoulder of his top wing. His spine still ached from his dumb pillow idea, so in his stupidity he chose to roll farther on that wing instead of backward, which only hurt more. He sucked in through his teeth as he twisted, hearing the tell-tale groan of something out of place. Great, one of ten limbs is out of its socket, and he has to rearrange the rest to figure out which one.
Actually, when he leaned onto the palm of his hand, he realized it’s two sockets. It’ll heal easily since they didn’t put angelic steel into the fucking floor, but gravity didn’t ask permission to hurt immortal beings. It just can’t kill them.
The room stopped spinning right as the door slammed open, a head of ruffled blonde hair popping into his view. “Dad, are you alright? It sounded like you wrecked something.”
“Fine.” He yanked his arm, then the edge of his wing, twisting them into proper alignment like the joints of a doll. “I just fell.”
“You…fell.”
“From the tree.” He pointed with the hand that didn’t tingle with twisted nerves. “I was testing something and didn’t have time to catch myself when I lost balance. Nothing to worry about, sweetie.” He tried to curl his tail in reassurance, wincing when it complained from the strain of supporting him. Apparently it’s strong, but not hang-upside-down strong. Maybe he should’ve tested that for a few minutes before he committed to sleeping like this.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m not going to be done in by a tree, I assure you. Although that would make my personal story come full circle, wouldn’t it?” Lucifer sat up again, gritting his teeth against another whine of agony. He’s worrying her enough by being weird, he doesn’t need to add onto it by being old. He finished off his first bottle, but he’s not immune to hangovers, and he’s been told that summoning alcohol just to consume it is “a gluttony thing” and “drinking in the name of pride is depressing anyway” and “stop using magic for everything it’s getting annoying” and “you’re going to concern your daughter seriously stop it”. Some of that was his internal monologue, so maybe it doesn’t count as a criticism, or it counts twice as much. He can’t tell anymore.
But that ache in his bones could seriously use some numbing right about now. He blinked out of sync as he noticed Vaggie standing in the doorway, spear at the ready. Out of anywhere for an intruder to pop up, would it really be his tower? She caught him staring and offered a little wave, since no one was speaking and he just stared like a concussed idiot.
Can he even get a concussion? He’s heard about them from employees making excuses why they can’t show up to work, but he’s never done anything that could scramble him like that. If his only concussion is from not knowing how to sleep right, he’ll never live it down. He needs to crack his head on something else just to swallow the embarrassment.
Charlie’s voice cut through his musings too late for him to catch the context, finishing with, “—help.”
“You need help with something?” He asked.
“No, I just said that I’m here if you need help.” She frowned, ghosting her fingers over the back of his head. “You have a lump there.”
“It’ll be gone within the hour.”
“Still shouldn’t sleep with it.”
“I’ll be fine, Charlie. The devil himself can’t get any worse at remembering things just because he smacked his noggin.”
She narrowed her eyes, turning to exchange a look with Vaggie. The former angel lowered her spear, wandering over and pressing her hand to the tree trunk. “Uh, sir, were you…sleeping on this?”
“Well…” Honest. Be honest. Don’t lie to your daughter and her girlfriend. “Maybe.” Half honesty for the win!
“So that’s how angels are supposed to sleep!” Charlie clapped her hands together, bouncing to look at the leaves with a wonderful smile. “You didn’t want to say because you didn’t want us to have to rearrange the room for a tree, right? That’s nice, Dad, but I’m sure we could get perches or something like that that’s like a tree.”
“Charlie.” Vaggie looked deathly serious even with a nightgown on. “Angels don’t sleep in trees. Your dad is just odd.”
“We-we did in the Garden!” He’ll feel bad for lying later, gesturing to the branches with a smile and ignoring how he had to limp to stand in front of them again. “Charlie mentioned that she wanted to make sleeping more comfortable for you, and it made me—er—nostalgic for how it used to be. Dozing in paradise without having to care if it messed up your feathers, you know? So I wanted to try it out again.”
“And you fell like a baby bird from its mothers nest.” Vaggie didn’t move as Charlie jabbed an elbow into her to shut her up. Lucifer mulled over those words before his eyes brightened, smiling with all of his fangs.
“Want me to show you?”
“What?”
“Just do what you usually do, but in the tree.” He chipped his hooves into the soft bark as he pulled himself up onto the lowest bough, stopping to encourage them forward with another flick of his tail. “It’ll be fun.”
“Sleepover!” Charlie extended claws just to follow him. “Vaggie, cmon!”
She leaned the spear against the far wall before ascending as well. Both of them moved faster, partially because they had youth on their side, and partially because they didn’t have twenty bones at minimum wailing for them to stop trying and just collapse on the ground. No thank you, bones. He’s learning how to do this to be slightly less miserable in the mornings, because his daughter should not see how he lays in his own aches with puffy eyes until the clock strikes noon every day. It’s unbecoming.
He stopped about halfway up the tree, making sure this branch truly is sturdy, then coaxing a few more to intertwine and strengthen it for good measure. When he shifted around the prickly leaves, the other two could join him and watch him guide more of the canopy into a mix between a hammock and a nest in the russet vegetation. “Better?”
Vaggie blinked, sitting down at the edge of the dip. “We still need pillows.”
“I knew that, yes.” He cleared his throat, waving three new ones out from behind his back. “Just making sure you like it here before I move a level up. My little girl’s a bit too old for me to hover like that, right?” He chuckled in a rough squeak, ruffling his feathers until they were aligned enough to take flight. Just a few pumps of his wings and he’s on the next branch over, a bit higher and off to the side. It twisted into a new nest that could support his weight too, plush with the softest leaves he could give and allowing him to stretch as much as he wanted. “If you like it, I’ll figure out a way to put something similar in your room, too. I’m partial to apple trees, but maybe there’s a different one you like more, hm? Or just a hammocky-canopy dangling from the ceiling, although that may confuse a few people.”
Vaggie took the pillow and used it to prop up her elbows and then her head on top of them, laying on her stomach with her wings spread. Charlie very obviously watched her to make sure she did it correctly, while Lucifer acted like he knew the whole time and was waiting for them to settle first. It’s better for his wings, certainly, and he’s not straining his tail to balance himself.
Charlie struck up a conversation, but he didn’t catch a whiff or a word of it, focusing on how to make a nest work long term. While Vaggie seems comfortable on her stomach, he’s no fool and tried that before on a bed. It’ll get pretty hard to breathe when he remembers his first nights in hell and how the brimstone choked him, rousing him from sleep with stutters in his lungs. Another good sign of impending divorce is whenever he woke Lilith up with his midnight panic attacks, she went from helping him through it to turning over and going right back to sleep.
Watching the way Charlie and Vaggie recount their day with little giggles between them, he can’t imagine them treating each other the same way. If either of them acknowledged his dopey smile, he would blame it on the head injury.
Instead, Charlie grumbled and twisted where she lay, red feathers prickling the nest. “Vaggie, how do you stay like this the whole night? My chest hurts just thinking about it.”
“What? Oh, you don’t. You just sleep on your stomach with the pillow under you.” She shifted to demonstrate. “No pain and no lost feathers. I avoided it when I started being with you…”
Lucifer tuned out of what was sure to be a gushy conversation with details about his daughter he did not want to know, instead turning the pillow in his claws. That sounds simple, but not if he wrings himself into knots in a nightmare. He shifted to let his tail curl around him and his wings act as a blanket, thinking for a moment before twitching his fingers again. The leaves crept up and knitted together on top of him like a safety net, weighing him down and keeping him in place. No turning like this, and he felt…oddly secure.
The nest bit still felt too solid, though. Too much like a mattress. He had to make adjustments with little twitches of the branches and expansion of the leaves to make sure he doesn’t wring out his neck for a third time, forcing his nest to give under his weight just a bit. His ego can’t handle another fall like that, and he refuses to take the coward’s way out and just start plucking feathers again because sleeping on something rough is easy. No, he’s getting through this well-rested and absent of soreness.
He curled his limbs much like a cat ready to snooze, turning little blossoms in between his horns so he can’t screw them up in the surrounding wood. This much meticulous creation following repeated failures at basic care for his body left him drained. He yawned, listening back in on Charlie’s story without wanting to add anything to the conversation, letting it lull him.
Usually, he has a nightmare, a return to consciousness in a cold sweat, or a groggy rousing with the realization he’s only awake because he snagged on something that hurt to move away from. Instead, he felt fuzzy as he noted the light leaving dazzling patterns on him where it broke through the leaves. He shook off the vines, summoning the pocket watch. Huh. It’s an acceptable hour.
He sat up and stretched his arms over his head, the awful stings from the day before entirely forgotten. Immortality has its perks. He stood, hiding a yawn behind his hand, and leaned over to where Charlie was still sleeping. They seem comfortable enough, their wings tangled together as one big downy blanket between them, but he’ll wait and ask just in case. Improvement means talking, or something like that.
In the meantime, he’ll deal with the worst part of sleeping in a tree: he’s covered in twigs and leaves. Lucifer specifically built the nest to not jab him, but some coming loose in his feathers is unavoidable. He raked through his hair quickly before settling down to work on his wings. He’s the Sin of Pride, after all, and no matter how shitty he feels, he needs to look immaculate.
But he doesn’t feel like shit today. Actually, this is pretty damn good. There’s warm light on his back, combing his feathers feels incredible, and does he feel the urge to hum? When’s the last time he did that out of contentment and not to put on a carefree air?
One good night’s sleep didn’t fix every problem, obviously, since he can feel the tinge of sadness in realizing these leaves are a hellish red, not the mortal green. Then again, if he woke up every day feeling like this, maybe he wouldn’t spend half of it paralyzed in bed. At minimum, once a week where he can rub feathers between his fingers that aren’t broken from abuse could shave centuries off of his eternal fatigue.
“Dad?”
He broke from his thoughts to find Charlie, expression unreadable. “Yes?”
“You look…”
“...Yeah?”
“Peaceful.” Charlie snickered, squishing her cheeks between her hands as she crawled forward. “I wonder if all of our residents would be this sunny if you put trees in their rooms.”
“I don’t think your bug maid would appreciate cleaning up after that.” Lucifer released the last wing and smoothed out his clothes, changing them to his suit as his hands moved down. “I assume she’s a heavy sleeper?”
“Vaggie usually needs a bit of coffee to really wake up in the morning. You know, unless something disastrous happens.”
“Then let’s get some coffee.” He hovered where she could grab onto his shoulders, holding Charlie close as they descended. “So, would a tree be a good enough surprise?”
“You already ruined it by showing it to her.” Charlie scrunched up her face as she considered. “Can coffee grow in a tree?”
“I don’t remember.”
“If you make it where I can sneak out and get a cup ready for her before she wakes up every morning, that would be a surprise.”
“So you want a coffee maker in your room.”
“Yes. Attached to the tree if possible.”
He wished it was that simple to make other people in his life happy. To make himself happy. But hey, he’s still learning new things after thousands of years in Hell. Maybe there’s something he can do that he just hasn’t cracked yet. A way to improve his life in little steps, since the big ones are way too much for bones this easy to strain with weight.
By the time both girls were properly roused with coffee and idle chatter, he had a wisteria tree in the center of their room and ready for them, the lavender blooms expanding to become the ceiling and drop down the far walls. He has no idea how to put a functional coffee machine on the trunk, but he does enjoy a meaningless project, so Lucifer gladly rushed them off to their jobs before he got to work on his.
He adjusted his nest quite a few times to fit how an angel sleeps in peace, not how a human guided him to a mattress, and he always kept the second one around for sleepovers. Charlie took him up on that way more than Vaggie, but one day he’ll get the former angel to open up to him.
Even if he sleeps soundly, he’s guaranteed to wake with a smile when his little girl knocks on the door with a pillow squeezed in her arms.