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Alastor has always woken up early.
Ever since he was a child, waking up before his father could and getting a head start on everything he knew he’d be asked to do that day. The early bird gets the worm, after all. That’s been ingrained in him for years and, well, old habits die hard (ha, die).
This morning is no different; Alastor wakes up well before sunrise, allowing the peacefulness of the early morning to seep into his bones. He glances down at Lucifer’s face, illuminated by the small bit of light beginning to slip through the curtains.
He truly looks heavenly like this, mussed blonde hair sticking every which way and framing his rosy cheeks. His pale skin glowing in the dim lighting, eyes closed as his chest slowly rises and falls with his breaths. He knows what the stories meant now, when they say that Lucifer was one of the most beautiful creatures in existence. Even in sleep, Lucifer never stopped being the most beautiful thing in the room. A beauty beyond human comprehension, a beauty that left the Radio Demon feeling breathless for hte first time in his afterlife. Alastor can feel his smile soften into something more genuine, rather than the perma-grin that he always wore. This smile was sweeter, usually reserved only for those he cared about. And those people are few and far between.
And yet, Lucifer has somehow managed to worm his way into what remains of Alastor’s heart, and the Radio Demon has no idea how he did it. He’s not even sure when it happened. To him, it feels like one minute they were arguing and the next there was something else blossoming between them.
It didn’t feel quite right to call it romantic, despite them doing what others would consider “standard” for a relationship of that sort, but it also didn’t fit the binds of the word platonic, either. Alastor’s pretty sure that kissing and sleeping in the same bed are both out of that realm.
Even despite the lack of label, Alastor wouldn’t change a thing. He surprises even himself when he thinks this is how I want it to be and means it. Alastor has never been one for frivolous emotions, they usually get in the way of his goals. Yet, right now, he can’t seem to bring himself to care when the King of Hell is curled into him like this.
Alastor’s face is warm, he can feel it. Emotions clear as day, and suddenly he’s very grateful nobody else is in the room. He never wears his heart on his sleeve, never lets his true emotions show, and yet Lucifer somehow manages to coerce them out of him without even trying. It’s so maddening, sometimes, to be an open book to someone. Alastor had always made an effort to make sure the contents of his mind were unreadable, written in a foreign language in handwriting that might as well have been Egyptian hieroglyphics. Yet, Lucifer saw that as a challenge. Saw the indecipherable words and brute-forced his way to a translation.
He was so infuriating.
Still. Alastor loved him. There was no way around it, no other explanation for why he was so okay with everything. No other explanation for why he was currently still laying in bed with Lucifer, one clawed hand combing through the King’s blonde hair. No other explanation for why he stares down at the most powerful being in Hell and feels nothing but affection swell in his heart, instead of resentment or a want to take that power for himself.
Lucifer stirs in his sleep, rolling over to throw an arm over Alastor’s chest and cracking his eyes open to peer at the deer through his eyelashes.
“Good morning, dear.” Alastor hums, leaning down to press a kiss to his head.
“Mm… Mornin’ Al…” The angel yawns, laying his head on the Radio Demon’s furry chest. “What time is it…?” He mumbles sleepily. Alastor chuckles, and Lucifer curls closer at the action.
“Earlier than you usually wake up.” The deer pauses in combing through Lucifer’s blonde hair in order to pat him softly. “Go back to sleep if you wish, I’m not going anywhere.” Lucifer nods, letting his eyes slip closed again, before cracking them open to stare up at Alastor again.
“If you don’t keep running your fingers through my hair ‘m gonna kill you…” The threat would probably have had more substance if it wasn’t mumbled into Alastor’s chest, yet the sinner obliges him anyway. Lucifer melts into the touch, letting out a content sigh as his eyes once again fall shut.
They only stay like that for about thirty more minutes–Alastor humming a soft song as Lucifer lays on his chest–before the Angel stretches again, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.
“Okay,” He yawns, “That’s enough sleep. I’m up.” Alastor smiles softly at him, and Lucifer leans over and springs one of the deer’s curls. “It’s your day to make breakfast.”
“It most certainly is not.”
“Yes it is!” Lucifer protests, “I made those pancakes that you loved so much yesterday.” Alastor snorts at how proud of himself he sounds. To be fair to Lucifer, the pancakes were strangely to Alastor’s taste despite his distaste for sweet things.
“Oh? And what makes you think that I enjoyed them? For all you know, I could have been lying.”
“As if. You never do anything you don’t want to, and you finished your plate before I did. Check and mate, bitch!”
Yet another instance of Lucifer reading him like a book. Alastor rolls his eyes at the display, throwing the blanket off of himself and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. Lucifer laughs brightly once he realizes he’s won, and is quick to follow suit. Just as Alastor raises his hand to snap and get himself ready for the day, Lucifer surges forward and connects their lips. The deer chuckles into it, cupping Lucifer’s face with his hands.
“My my. Needy this morning, are we?” He purrs, delighting in the way Lucifer’s face flushes gold.
“Yeah, whatever. Shut up.”
“Don’t you enjoy my voice, mon ange?” Alastor laughs as Lucifer sputters, his face a bright gold. “Your words, dear, not mine.”
“...Shut up.” Lucifer says again, crossing his arms and pouting much like a small child would.
“Alright. Come along, dear, I believe you said something about breakfast!”