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Lucifer glares up at Alastor as the deer grins down at him.
This was yet another one of their arguments, it was standard for them to end up arguing like this. Charlie has compared them to a pair of unruly kids, before. When she was scolding them for fighting and breaking the dining room table. Again.
“You guys are like children!” She had scolded, “I can’t leave you two alone for five minutes!”
In this moment, Lucifer kind of sees what she meant.
They hadn’t even been doing much. Lucifer had been sitting in an armchair, a cup of coffee in his hand as he read a book. Alastor had been reading the newspaper, that stupid grin still stuck on his face. Eventually, Lucifer had looked up from his book and had, admittedly, been staring at the Overlord.
It was only because he was mentally plotting the best way to kill him! Nothing more! It’s not like he was admiring the sinner’s deer ears, or thinking about how cute that smile really was, or about how nice his voice sounded, or how it would feel to kiss– nope! No. Not going down that road, not in a million years.
Maybe Lucifer really needed to get out. He was just feeling the effects of crippling loneliness, that had to be it. Maybe he should find a one night stand somewhere. That would fix the aching in his chest and his craving for touch for at least a little bit, right?
…Who is he kidding, of course it won’t. He knows he wouldn’t have a deep enough emotional bond to even enjoy it. Deep down he knows what he really wants. He’s gonna shove that pretty damn deep, though. No use in letting it get out when it’ll only cause issues.
Back to the matter at hand, Lucifer can’t even remember what they were arguing about. Something dumb, probably. It probably wasn’t that big of a deal if Lucifer can’t even remember it. It’s not his fault though! He’d probably be able to remember it if Alastor’s cute dumb face wasn’t the only thing he was able to focus on. If Alastor’s kissable infuriating smirk wasn’t taking up the entirety of his vision. If his eyes weren’t locked with Alastor’s and he didn’t have the urge to reach his hands up into that curly red and black hair and yank.
Alastor seemed equally clueless as to what the argument was about. His eyes boring into Lucifer’s almost seemed to flay the Angel’s stoic exterior and leave his emotions raw for the world to see. He was so annoying.
Finally, after a long moment of them staring into each other’s eyes, Alastor pulls away with a pointed ahem, straightening his already straight jacket.
(Lucifer wants to see him disheveled.)
“I believe it best if I take my leave.” The Radio Demon is as proper as ever, tapping his cane on the floor once as he turns to leave.
And Lucifer truly can’t help himself.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He scoffs, and he gives the bastard a cheeky grin. He’s about to turn and leave when he suddenly gets knocked to the ground by a red and black blur.
It didn’t hurt, not really. It was more shocking than anything, and when he glances up he sees Alastor sitting on top of him. Shadowy tentacles slither up and bind the King’s wrists above his head. And… yeah, okay. There was no denying it when they were in a position like this: Alastor was fucking hot. Handsome. Pretty. Any other positive descriptor.
He was also starting to really get on Lucifer’s nerves.
With practiced ease, he breaks out of the hold the tentacles have on his wrists and flips them over, standing up in one fluid motion and bringing Alastor with him. He tries to ignore the fast hammering of his heart, the blood rushing to his face, the way his chest feels tight and his stomach fluttery. He shoves those emotions down in favor of schooling his expression into one of calm.
“You wanna try that again?” Lucifer purrs, leaning dangerously close to Alastor’s face with a smug smirk. Their mouths were inches apart, and Lucifer could feel Alastor’s breath ghosting over his face. “Or do you want to live?”
Alastor’s smile turns into something pointier, more dangerous. It looked almost like he was baring his teeth.
“Release me.”
“Aww, that’s no way to ask, now is it? Where are your manners? I thought you were ‘raised better than that!’” He slips in an, admittedly awful, impression of Alastor, and the sinner’s ears flatten against his head.
“Please,” He spits out through gritted teeth. “Release me.”
“There we go!” Lucifer does as he was asked, letting go of Alastor and fighting back a laugh as the sinner lands on the floor. Alastor is quick to pick himself off, send a sharp glare in Lucifer’s direction, and storm off to who knows where.
As soon as he’s sure he’s gone, Lucifer lets out a desperate breath, his heart beating even faster than before. There was something seriously wrong with him if Alastor was able to make him feel like this. This is the Radio Demon, a cannibalistic serial killer. What the fuck?
He’s so caught up in his head he doesn’t notice the shadow following him along the wall back to his room.