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Lucifer paces back and forth, wringing his hands together nervously as he glances up to the clock hanging above the door.
He asked Alastor to dance. He couldn't help himself when they were spending time together, and it just slipped out without him meaning to. He had been prepared for a devastating rejection, but, much to his surprise, the sinner accepted almost immediately.
That’s what leads him to now, dressed up more than usual, pacing back and forth in the makeshift ballroom he had made out of the second floor common room. Alastor made it a point to always be on time exactly, Lucifer knew, and their dance was supposed to be for another five minutes, but that did little to mitigate the growing anxiety gnawing on Lucifer’s insides.
Eventually, though, after those five minutes that seemed to drag on and on, the door was thrown open and Alastor stepped through it.
If it was possible for the sinner to look even fancier, he managed it well. His curly hair was pulled back, and instead of the usual red he wore, his suit was black with gold accents. Was he wearing eyeliner? And lipstick?
He looked gorgeous.
Lucifer can feel his face heating up, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged bird trying to escape. Alastor crosses over to him, and all he can do is let his mouth hang open dumbly at the sight.
“Close your mouth, Lucifer, you’re going to catch flies.” The sound of his voice kickstarts Lucifer’s brain, and he sputters and clears his throat awkwardly.
“Right! Uh, right. Yeah. Sorry.” He’s floundering, hands waving aimlessly. “I just- you look so- so stunning.”
“Thank you, Sire. You…” He pauses, glancing off to the side. “Clean up nicely.” Is all he manages, and hey! Lucifer will take what he can get! The Radio Demon doesn't dole out compliments very often, after all.
“Shall we, then?” Lucifer holds out his hand, and Alastor gingerly takes it, allowing the King to pull him out onto the dance floor. Before Lucifer can snap his fingers to turn the gramophone in the corner on, some fast paced ragtime song begins emanating from somewhere he can’t pinpoint. Belatedly, he realizes it must be Alastor’s doing.
“Not a fan of waltzing, then?” He glances up at the deer.
“Not really. Much too stiff for my tastes. I much prefer swing.” His grin turns mischievous, a challenge in his eyes as he returns Lucifer’s gaze. “I must warn you, though, not many people are able to keep up with me.”
“Then you’re forgetting that I'm not a people.” Lucifer grins. “I’m older than time itself, Bambi, I can keep up.”
“On the contrary, I would think your old age makes it hard for you to do such strenuous activities.”
“Wow, you’re so funny.” Lucifer deadpans, and Alastor merely chuckles in response, suddenly tugging Lucifer closer to him and jumping right into the dance. The Angel’s caught off guard only for a moment before he falls into step with the sinner.
Dancing with Alastor is much different than when he would dance with Lilith. She never enjoyed fast paced dances like these, much preferring “regaler” dances like the waltz. Said it was “more fit for royalty.” Lucifer liked those dances, sure, but nothing beats the rush of swing dancing from the 1920s. And doing it with Alastor just made it even more exhilarating–each step was a challenge, each move was harder than the last.
More than anything, it was fun.
Lucifer can’t remember the last time he had this much fun dancing with someone.
The instruments in the song crescendo, and Alastor pulls Lucifer into a low dip as the final note rings out, before they’re left standing in silence, faces inches apart. Their breathing is coming in short gasps, and both their faces are flushed from the exertion.
There’s a small sheen of sweat on Alastor's face, his hair slightly mussed and lipstick a little smudged. The only thing running through Lucifer’s mind is beautiful, he’s beautiful.
For the second time that day, Lucifer lets his impulses take control. He moves his hands from where they were positioned on Alastor’s arms and winds them into his red hair, pulling his face down and connecting their lips.
Alastor goes stiff under his hold, and Lucifer has half a mind to worry if he did something wrong before the Radio Demon leans into it, his grip on Lucifer tightening slightly.
Something squeezes in Lucifer’s chest, overwhelmed from the sheer amount of affection for the deer swelling in his heart.
They finally separate on account of breathing, and Alastor returns Lucifer to a standing position.
“I must say, you fared better than I thought you would.” Alastor commends, his arms still wrapped around Lucifer’s waist. The Angel beams up at him.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Al.” He agrees lightly. “We should do this more often, I think. Maybe we can hold a dance to celebrate the reopening of the Hotel next week.” He’s thinking out loud at the point, mumbling under his breath about music and decorations as Alastor rolls his eyes fondly.
“We can take it up with Charlie later, Sire. For now,” Another song starts up. “How about another dance? Unless you’re too tired, of course!”
“Oh, you're on!”