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Lucifer is acutely aware of Alastor’s eyes on him.
That seemed to be a common thing, the way Alastor stares at him so… possessively. It had become the norm ever since they started their… whatever this was.
Honestly, Lucifer’s not quite sure what their relationship is right now. He knows that they enjoy each other’s company–at least, Alastor seemed like he enjoyed Lucifer’s company–and he knows that he enjoys being cuddled up to the deer like this. And Alastor is allowing it so that must mean something.
What he doesn’t know? What they are to each other. How they ended up like this. Why Alastor seems so… comfortable with it.
The deer is still staring at him.
Lucifer shifts where his back is pressed to the Radio Demon’s chest, craning his neck back to look Alastor in the eyes.
“Something on your mind, Al?” Lucifer hums, closing his sketchbook and tossing it onto the cushion next to them. Alastor’s ears flick, and he doesn’t respond for a moment. Lucifer’s grown to know that contemplating look on his face, a look that says he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Where he’s mulling over and carefully analyzing the words he wants to say.
The Angel waits patiently, closing his eyes and laying his head on the Demon’s shoulder.
“I was merely thinking about the stars.”
“The stars?” Lucifer repeats, cracking one eye open to stare at the deer.
“Yes, darling, do try to keep up.” The Angel hums once again, motioning for Alastor to continue. “The stars are quite beautiful, aren’t they? Twinkling in the sky as they burn millions of light years away. Such power and passion shouldn’t go unappreciated. Why, I’d go as far as to say the stars are some of the most passionate things in the universe.”
“Passionate, yes, but they’re destructive, too.” Lucifer murmurs, averting his gaze as Alastor stares down at him questioningly. “I created them, I know what happens. If they get too ambitious–too bright and too large–they begin to collapse in on themselves. Eventually, there’s no light left and in its place is a black hole. Something with such a strong pull that it devours light itself and leaves nothing but an infinite void of blackness.”
Lucifer isn’t quite sure where all of that came from–the words just kind of… spilled out without even thinking. The creation of the stars was a memory that Lucifer held dear. Hell, his last name is Morningstar. Stars are kinda his thing. And while Alastor was right that they were beautiful, they also served as a reminder that Lucifer shone too brightly and was punished for it.
Alastor was silent for a moment, his claws carding through Lucifer’s mussed blonde hair.
“Yes, but even that destruction creates a beautiful supernova, does it not?” The deer hums. “I do wonder, what would happen if you could reach up and touch one of those twinkling little lights? If one were close enough that you could just…” Alastor shifts, turning Lucifer gently so they were face to face, one clawed hand moving from Lucifer’s hair to his chin, “Grab it? Keep it for yourself?”
“Nothing good, I’d wager.” The Angel breathes, face flushing a bright gold from the proximity of the sinner.
“No?” Alastor hums, and Lucifer shakes his head in response.
“You get too close to a star and you get burned. They know nothing but how to blaze with such intensity that even those who are just in general proximity with them recoil from the intense heat radiating off in waves. Passion, yes, but that passion runs too deeply and ends in nothing good for anybody.” What was that human myth? About the man who flew too close to the sun?
Icarus. Right.
“And what about the Morningstar?” Alastor inquires, eyebrow raised as his other hand continues combing through Lucifer’s hair, pausing every now and then to gently scratch at his scalp. The Angel shivers from the contact, eyes fluttering shut as he nearly forgets to respond.
“Don’t get me started on that guy,” Lucifer chuckles dryly, attempting to make a joke out of it, “He’s the worst out of all the stars.” He’s not sure why he’s admitting this to Alastor of all people–Lucifer was the Sin of Pride, and yet here he was admitting insecurities that should be below him.
“The worst, hm?” Alastor hums, hand pausing in its movements through the blonde strands of hair. Lucifer can’t help but feel like he said something wrong as Alastor doesn’t say anything more for a long moment. “I beg to differ, dear.”
“You… what?” Lucifer blinks, slow and unsure, as he raises a hand to place over the one Alastor still had on his face.
“Has your old age finally caught up to you? Are you going deaf, Sire?”
“Haha. Very funny. I’m laughing so hard right now.” Lucifer deadpans, rolling his eyes as Alastor merely chuckles.
“Please, I jest. You heard me correctly; you may be a nuisance in every sense of the word but that’s far from the worst. After all, anything of mine must be the highest quality.”
“...Anything of yours?” Lucifer asks incredulously.
“Yes, of course. My Morningstar.”
Lucifer’s heart seems to constrict at the words as Alastor leans forward and plants the softest kiss Lucifer has ever felt on the Angel’s lips.
“...Holy shit.” Is all he can manage. Alastor chuckles, bringing him closer and simply holding him.
And Lucifer wouldn’t have it any other way.