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Lucifer didn’t sleep. He didn’t require sleep, so there was no point. He was too busy to bother with sleeping.
As time went on, he’d started to nap on occasion, if he felt tired, or he just wanted to cuddle with Lilith or Charlie.
It was when his relationship with Lilith started to fall apart, that he started sleeping more.
As she became more controlling of his duties, and pulled away more, Lucifer found himself having too much time on his hands. He wasn’t allowed to spend much time with Charlie anymore – Lilith said he was filling her brain with too much of his ‘nonsense.’
Lilith had been upset with him, as she often was these days, and he had nothing to do, so he fell asleep.
He woke up to her shaking him awake, a scowl on her face. “What are you doing?” she asked, even though it was obvious that he’d been sleeping.
He wondered where Charlie was. He missed her.
Lucifer looked up at his wife groggily, unable to think of what to say.
Lilith raised her eyebrows as if to say “ Well?” Lucifer hated when she looked at him like that; upset, disappointed, ashamed.
He sat up, ignoring the urge to make himself look more presentable. She didn’t find him attractive anymore, anyway. “I had nothing to do,” he said honestly.
“Well, isn’t that the issue.” Lilith brushed his hair down from where he had no doubt it was askew. It wasn’t a gentle, loving gesture like it used to be. It was cold and disconnected. “You sleep all day, Lucifer. Things can’t just get done themselves. You have to actually do things.”
Her words stung, but he knew she was right. It still wouldn’t matter either way; these days, it often felt like she despised him.
“You’re right,” he admitted, feeling his chagrin heat his cheeks.
Lilith brought her hand to caress his cheek. This time the touch felt softer, and he leaned into it. “Now come, we have work to get to.”
Lucifer didn’t know what that meant; it could mean a lot of different things, but he followed her nonetheless.
--
One morning, Lucifer woke, and Lilith was just gone. Without a trace. It had been like she had never even been; the house was desolate, and missing all her things.
It had been coming. He knew it was going to happen. But when he wandered the house, knowing deep down what was really happening, he hoped he was wrong.
He wasn’t. Lilith was gone, Charlie had already moved out, and he was alone.
His relationship with his daughter was already strained, but he had no doubt that now, without Lilith’s help, he was going to properly mess it all up.
Lucifer would’ve loved to sleep all day. But no matter how much he waited, slumber never found him. He thrashed around in bed, never managing to feel solace. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he could’ve done. What he should’ve done.
Useless. That’s all Lucifer had ever been. He was unable to even get himself to fall asleep.
He used his powers to force himself to sleep, ignoring how unpleasant and painful the sensation was. As long as he could fall asleep – anything to get him away from the reality that he was going to be alone for the rest of his eternal life.
--
By the time Lucifer moved into the hotel, he’d already spent years establishing his terrible sleep schedule. It was normal for him to spend days sleeping, and there were periods when he couldn’t get himself to snooze without using his powers, which was uncomfortable ( painful ).
Lucifer had registered that he was depressed, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. At this point, it was a part of his everyday life. There was no way around it. It was Lucifer.
He knew that Charlie felt bad for him – something about having his one and only daughter pity him made Lucifer feel shame like nothing else. She’d offered to help, but Lucifer shut her down quickly, assuring he was fine. He couldn’t imagine how she could help, anyway.
So, Charlie left him to his poor sleep cycles, and the two of them attempted to rekindle their damaged relationship without talking about Lucifer’s bad habits.
He knew that it was affecting things and that he should try and change – but he never managed to do so. He didn’t know how to change.
And, aside from Charlie, he didn’t have much reason to change. But his sleep schedule had yet to hurt their relationship.
--
Lucifer stumbled down to the lobby, feeling groggy and in need of tea. He was out of it, hardly even knowing what time it was. It was an early hour of the morning, he assumed.
No one was around, much to his relief – well, at least he thought so – then he saw Alastor sitting alone in the armchair, grinning at him – but he was always grinning, so Lucifer never knew when he was actually happy, or if he was just smiling creepily.
Lucifer had planned to just sit in the lobby and drink tea until Charlie showed up – he was too much of a coward to just go to her door and say hi, so he'd go with this. After seeing Alastor, he reconsidered.
Sitting alone was much more pleasant than having to interact with Alastor. Unlike how he felt about Alastor, he didn't mind the others – though the cat never really went out of his way to talk to Lucifer (which Lucifer appreciated), and the spider always flirted with him. He tried not to think about the little maid. She was fucking insane, and maybe even worse than Alastor. She kept giving him dead bugs, and Lucifer just accepted them, because when he didn’t, she’d start bringing other ‘ gifts.’
Lucifer couldn't just leave, because then Alastor would know that he'd managed to cause Lucifer to leave. Reluctantly, Lucifer plopped himself on the couch, ignoring Alastor. The demon was reading a book before Lucifer’s arrival, but now he was just staring at him, his gaze making Lucifer want to squirm.
"You missed today's ' hotel bonding activities,'" Alastor said it sarcastically, and it made Lucifer feel defensive, even though he didn't like them either. Charlie tended to be a bit naive, and her hotel activities showed that. But Alastor didn’t have the right to judge her.
Lucifer didn't want to admit that he'd been sleeping, even though it was extremely obvious. He was always sleeping. That, or he was avoiding everyone, and staying holed up in his room.
It was rare that he willingly showed his face – as much as he wanted to be the dad Charlie wanted, he just wasn't. He was selfish and awkward and incapable of functioning properly for longer than a few hours.
Lilith was right; he really did let himself go.
Alastor seemed to figure that Lucifer wasn't going to respond, because he spoke up again, "Sleeping in again, Your Highness?" The judgment in his tone was clear, and even though Lucifer didn't care for Alastor at all, it was still hard to hear. (Because he was ashamed.)
He scowled at the demon. “Fuck you,” he hissed. “Can’t you just sit and read your book in silence?”
Much to Lucifer’s surprise, the sinner didn’t say much more, he just paused, smiling blankly at him, and then looked back down at his book.
Lucifer tried to ignore his presence as he made himself some tea and sat there to wait for Charlie.
--
Lucifer was in a really bad mood. His head hurt, and he hadn’t slept in a couple of weeks.
Sometimes this just happened, and he couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried – well, not without using his powers, which was unpleasant, to say the least.
It’d started with a conversation with Alastor – or, an argument with Alastor. The demon had been saying anything he could to hurt him. With that, Alastor insulted him for being a horrible father, and expressed how much Charlie went through to protect Lucifer from leaving his ' precious room.’
Though it was meant to hurt him, Lucifer had a feeling that the demon didn’t know that Lucifer didn’t know about this – because the argument died down not too soon after Alastor had seen just how much it’d upset him.
He hadn’t even known that Charlie was leaving him be – he’d just assumed that the hotel had been less busy. How stupid of him.
It was hard to receive such valid criticism from someone he hated so much. Not to mention that he’d just realized how much Charlie had been trying to protect him from helping her. As if he would’ve minded. He wished she weren’t so considerate all the time.
The worst part was that he found out through Alastor, of all people. The prick had snapped at him, during one of their usual arguments, and then had the audacity to almost seem to feel bad.
Lucifer didn’t know how to react to the information – it was a lot to take in.
The girl had been taking on so much more work, all because she didn’t want to bother him. And these were things he was good at! Things that would be so easy for him to help with, had she just asked.
Lucifer could have stepped up and really helped with hotel management, but he’d been too stupid to offer much more help, and he’d just assumed Charlie would come to him.
He was so ashamed at how bad he’d let things get for himself. His own daughter didn’t turn to him when she needed help, because he’d settled into the role of useless parent so well.
His mind couldn’t snooze after all the mortification and guilt he felt. It consumed all his thoughts until he decided he couldn’t let himself keep being a coward.
He knocked on Charlie’s door, hoping it wasn’t an odd hour of the day (since he never checked the time).
She opened the door, and she didn't look like she’d been sleeping, at least. She did look tired, but not the sleepy sort of tired – she looked like she just needed a break, and life never gave her one. It made his heart hurt.
“Dad,” she said, seeming to be slightly stunned by his presence.
“Uh, hey.” He fought the urge to throw in some dumb nickname for her. It always was an attempt to make things less awkward, but it always seemed to make things more awkward.
Charlie appeared to sense his anxious nature, because she held the door open for him, quietly saying “Come in.”
He hesitated for a moment, before stepping inside of Charlie and her girlfriend’s room. Vaggie was gone, likely off waving around that spear of hers. She was feisty, and Lucifer really appreciated that about her.
He’d never been inside Charlie’s room, and it felt weird to be doing so. It was nice and clean, but the bed wasn’t made. There was a seating area, and the mess of papers on it told him that Charlie had just been working there.
He sat down, feeling out of place, and sitting at the edge of the seat as if his presence would offend the spot.
Charlie sat next to him, looking at him with a mix of concern, confusion – and she also seemed happy to see him.
Something about that encouraged him.
“I’m, um, well – I didn’t –” Lucifer paused, looking away from his daughter’s encouraging gaze. He didn’t even know what he was saying, it was humiliating. He looked back at her, “I should be around more –” Then, when she opened her mouth to argue, he added, “I want to be around more.”
He mustered up enough courage to grab her hand, holding it gently. “I didn’t realize how much you’ve been keeping from me.” That felt too accusatory, so he then said, “I’m here for you. I’m at this hotel because I want to be involved in your life. I don’t want you to be scared to talk to me. ”
Charlie didn’t speak for a moment. She seemed to be taking it all in, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t mean to hide anything from you, Dad.” Her tone was so earnest, that he couldn’t even think to not believe her. “I just wanted to give you space.”
He knew that this was a result of their conversation about her wanting to get him help. The return of this topic had him itching to leave, but he forced himself to stay seated. “I don’t need space,” he said honestly – he didn’t know what else to say. He had no right to be upset with her for being considerate. He could only be mad at himself for putting her in such a position.
“I thought that was what you wanted.” With the way Charlie said it, Lucifer registered, with a horrible amount of clarity, that his daughter was worried she’d upset him, and maybe even that he’d abandon her again.
He couldn’t fault her for it. It was completely his fault. Time and time again, he’d proven himself to be a bad father.
“No – never from you.” There were a lot of things unspoken within the statement, but Lucifer didn’t say any of it – he couldn’t. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I’m – sorry.” Apologies were very hard for him to offer, but he needed her to know that he was aware of how much of an idiot he was.
The apology sat in the air for a few moments before Charlie’s eyes began to water, and she pulled him into a tight hug.
Lucifer wrapped his arms around her, putting his face on her shoulder and trying not to cry. He didn’t realize how much he needed a hug until he was wrapped in a warm embrace.
“I want you to come to me if you need help.” And not Alastor, he didn’t add.
“Okay,” she agreed, her voice wet with tears he felt seeping into his shirt.
Lucifer would be better. He needed to be better.
--
Lucifer was able to sleep after that, but he tried not to. He hadn’t realized how dependent he’d become on the pastime until he was made to live without it. The days felt unbearably long, and without doing things for Charlie, he felt stuck. There was nothing to do but sit around and wait for his daughter’s next request.
He’d spent the first couple of weeks after their conversation helping Charlie with stuff all day, but as time passed, there appeared to be less he was truly needed for, and more time for Lucifer to be alone.
Then he had her agree to just wake him if she needed him – because it was growing to be uncomfortable. His thoughts were so much louder when he was forced to sit with them all day. Charlie obviously agreed, even though she seemed worried about her dad’s returning poor sleep habits.
He’d asked Charlie to wake him – so then why did he next wake to Alastor at his bedside, smiling down at him creepily?
He startled, pulling back – if his bed were any smaller, he would’ve fallen off of it.
“Why are you here?”
Alastor inspected his claws as though Lucifer were boring him. Even though he had been the one to break into his room. “Charlie requires you.”
Lucifer scowled, “And why couldn’t literally anyone else come get me?”
Alastor laughed, “She didn’t ask me to come, but the girl was going to let you ‘ sleep in.’ So, actually, you’re quite welcome.”
It wasn’t a surprise that Charlie would still be trying to accommodate him, but it was a disappointment. It meant that he’d failed again.
He actually found that he did appreciate the demon waking him, but he wouldn’t say that. “Whatever,” he grumbled, getting out of bed and placing his hat on his head.
--
“I can’t sleep,” Lucifer complained, sitting himself next to Alastor on the couch. They’d gotten closer recently, and he’d started to feel less judgment from the demon when he talked about his poor habits. Hence why he was even talking to him in the first place.
“Quite a shame,” Alastor teased.
Lucifer glared at him, but there was no heat behind it. His head was pounding and he just wanted to lay down and lose hours of the day. “I haven’t been able to sleep for a week now.”
“Perhaps that is a good thing,” Alastor countered, looking at him from the book he’d just been reading.
“It’s not.” How could it be? He felt horrible.
The demon sighed, closing his book as he accepted his fate of being stuck in conversation with Lucifer. “If you can’t sleep, it’s just because your body doesn’t need sleep. All attachments you have to the habit are mental.”
Lucifer knew he was right, but it still wasn’t easy to hear. He still felt bad – so then why did he care if it was mental or not? “You don’t understand,” was all he could think of saying. The demon truly didn’t understand Lucifer’s issue, and he couldn’t expect him to.
“You’re right, I don’t.” Then Alastor added, “But if it’s really that crucial for you to sleep, then why don’t you just use your powers? Surely you’re capable.”
“It hurts to force myself into sleep.” He didn’t explain the extent of the pain. It wasn’t just pain, it was an invasive, violating sort of feeling to be forced into slumber.
Alastor hummed, “Well, then I guess you’re stuck here for the time being.”
Lucifer huffed, but figured that he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. “So, uh, what’re you reading?” It was an attempt at being civil – he’d been doing that a lot recently.
--
Alastor scowled at him, “You don’t need sleep.”
This was an argument they’d had too many times, and it just frustrated Lucifer more every time. At this point, he’d come to an agreement with Charlie, and he’d managed to be a semi-productive member of the hotel.
So then why did Alastor care how he was spending his free time? If Lucifer had nothing better to do, then why should he be forced to sit around? He spent his free time on his ducks, and when he wasn’t doing that, he’d sleep. It didn’t feel all that bad.
Lucifer turned away from the sinner, not wanting to look at his upset face. “I’m not having this conversation.”
Alastor was mad that he’d spent the last three days in bed – something Lucifer wasn’t proud of, and he didn’t appreciate the sinner shaming him so thoroughly. He thought they’d come to a silent agreement on the issue; Alastor wasn’t going to bother Lucifer about it anymore.
“You don’t get to decide that–“
“ Yes, I do,” Lucifer cut him off.
He didn’t need to look to know that Alastor had left. The sinner was easily agitated, and Lucifer didn’t know why it bothered him.
--
Lucifer opened a portal into Alastor’s room. The demon didn’t seem bothered by his uninvited entrance, he merely looked up from his ‘food.’ (Lucifer didn’t know what he was eating, but it definitely had fingers. Gross. )
“I can’t sleep.” His wings were out, and they were unbearably irritated from his recent molt. Without help, Lucifer could only reach the ends of his six wings, and the itch was driving him insane. “Can you – fix them – again..?”
Months ago, Alastor had preened Lucifer’s wings for him. Being a man of pride (and a man of depression), Lucifer had refused to ask for help. From years of no care, his wings had become so disagreeable that he’d stopped leaving them out.
The sinner had noticed how disgusting his wings had become, and offered to preen them. By that point, the two of them could be considered civil, and Lucifer’s itchiness outdid his disliking of Alastor.
He couldn’t preen them himself, and until now he didn’t have anyone he could ask. Aside from the ends of his wings, he couldn’t get much farther back – and he definitely couldn’t get the feathers close to the base of his wings.
So he never groomed his own wings; it was hard to try and reach behind himself, and too much work to justify it in his depressed mind. Years ago, Lilith would preen his wings for him, but as time went on, she stopped offering, and Lucifer never could bring himself to ask.
It was fine, so long as Lucifer tried not to think about how itchy his wings were. Prior to Alastor’s help, the feathers of his wings had been left ruffled and unkempt for centuries. He spent years with wings that looked like the feathers of a baby bird that had yet to learn to preen, and had no mother to care for them.
Now that Lucifer had had a taste of normal wings again, he couldn’t bring himself to stomach the discomfort. He wanted to feel that relief again; the relief of having his wings feel comfortable. Before, Lucifer had grown so accustomed to the poor state of his wings, he hadn’t thought of the relief he’d feel once they were preened.
It felt so much better to have his wings out and groomed. All thanks to Alastor, who he was reluctantly starting to warm up to.
His wings tended to cramp up when he kept them hidden away too long. In the cases where he kept them away for months, or even years, he’d barely be able to flap them once he’d brought them out. Not to mention the itch that it’d come with. All he had was a backscratcher, and it didn’t do much to ease the painfully prickly feeling.
Alastor didn’t seem upset, but rather the opposite. He merely smiled at Lucifer and gestured to the bed, “By all means.” He’d been a lot nicer recently – as of lately, he seldom snapped at Lucifer for his poor sleep habits.
Having one’s wings preened was a rather intimate ordeal. The process of wing preening wasn’t inherently romantic; it was just intimate. Which was why the last time had taken a lot of convincing on Alastor’s part, and a lot of trust on Lucifer's.
Why Alastor wanted to help him out, Lucifer wasn’t fully sure. The sinner and him had become ‘ friends’ but he wasn't sure that they were actually friends. He didn’t know, and with Alastor, it was hard to tell. The demon would invite him to tea one day, and then spit insults at him the next. He’d grown accustomed to the sinner’s mood swings by now.
Either way, it meant that his stupid wings could be dealt with – and that was worth anything. Alastor was really good with his claws.
At the first brush of taloned fingers running through his feathers, Lucifer’s wings shook, unconsciously pressing against the hands that were petting him. Lucifer hid his face in his arms. He was happy Alastor couldn’t see his face, because his cheeks were definitely tinted a soft yellow color.
Alastor was amazing at preening his wings. His fingers were quick and gentle. He even managed to make the pulling of broken feathers less painful, it was swift, and he always rubbed the spot that they’d been pulled from, easing the sting.
Lucifer was hiding in his arms and biting his lip, because he would not be caught making any sort of embarrassing noises. (Like last time.)
Alastor talked a lot, and that helped. The sinner’s radio skills showed at times like this; when he would not shut the fuck up.
Lucifer wouldn’t admit that he didn’t mind it all that much.
He was pushed into a state of relaxation that nothing else could get out of him. His eyes slipped shut and he turned to mush underneath Alastor’s hands, his wings were like putty in the sinner’s nimble fingers.
When he got back to his room, he fell asleep instantly. He no longer had to scratch his wings.
--
Lucifer was holding onto Alastor’s arm, trying to keep him from leaving. “One hour! Come on.”
Alastor scowled at him, “I have work to do.”
“You literally never sleep – come on, just this once.” He pulled the demon back to bed – and he was surprised that Alastor let him.
Ever since they’d become partners, Alastor had taken more responsibility to watch Lucifer’s sleep schedule. The demon was always waking him at normal hours of the morning, and dragging Lucifer along on his errands, just to get him out of the hotel. But he let Lucifer slumber as though he were a normal sinner, that needed sleep.
Lucifer had gotten used to sleeping alone and waking up to Alastor biting something on his body. It had become the demon’s way of waking him – much to Lucifer’s dismay, and Alastor’s pleasure. He’d never bite hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to sting.
The first few times he’d instinctually smacked the sinner, but now, he barely even flinched.
Alastor didn’t sleep. Much like Lucifer, he didn’t need sleep. But unlike Lucifer, he hardly ever indulged in sleep. It made sense for a sinner like Alastor, who never liked to show any sort of ‘weakness.’ Alastor always appeared to like to be ready – as though he were in danger.
Lucifer brought Alastor to the bed, holding him to his middle, and wrapped all his limbs around the sinner like an octopus; sticking to him with no hope of escape.
Alastor sighed dramatically, but let him do as he pleased. It’d been so long since Lucifer shared his bed with another like this. It made him feel immense satisfaction.
He nuzzled his face into Alastor’s ears, not caring about how the demon’s antlers poked at his face. He ran a hand through Alastor’s hair, enjoying that he was even allowed to do such a thing. Alastor used to despise his touch, and now he allowed it, (and Lucifer might even dare to say that he liked it.)
Alastor bit his wrist, making Lucifer yelp, but he didn’t pull away. If that was what it took to make Alastor happy, Lucifer would let it slide. He let the demon dig his teeth into his forearm and suck his blood out. The demon licked his arm like it was made of candy.
Lucifer had grown rather desensitized to these sort of bites from Alastor. As long as the demon wasn’t ripping his flesh off his bones, he didn’t mind too much. He knew it helped with Alastor’s hunger, and more importantly, kept him from going out and eating other sinners.
He wanted Alastor to feed off of him and him only; he didn’t appreciate the demon sinking his teeth into another, hours before he planned to do so to Lucifer. The thought was rather unnerving for a lot of reasons.
If Lucifer were to let the demon use him, Alastor was to use only him.
Alastor bit him one more time before the demon seemed to be content with leaving his arm alone, the last bite brought a hum out of Lucifer, and it stung more than the others. Alastor lapped at the blood until it stopped flowing, and Lucifer fell asleep soon after that.
--
Lucifer hadn’t realized how much he’d grown so accustomed to Alastor’s routine until the sinner had to leave the hotel for some sort of business. He didn’t really know what it was for, and he didn’t care to pry too much – not after Alastor asked him to stop asking questions.
He did know what Alastor would be gone for a few weeks.
During those weeks, Lucifer proceeded to feel like absolute shit.
He didn’t register that Alastor’s aid in his schedule had been helping, but now that he was alone, lying in bed and staring at the high ceiling of his room, he was extremely aware of the gnawing misery that was starting to consume him.
Lucifer had slept in, and Charlie was the one to come get him days later. When he woke up, he felt as though he’d done something wrong – he assumed it was what it felt like for an alcoholic to just have a drink.
He didn’t know why he felt so ashamed.
But he hadn’t slept since then. He was so nervous to ruin his routine. Ignoring that he missed his partner; it was more than that – Lucifer was realizing that he was incapable of taking care of himself.
On the second week, Lucifer was aggravated and wanted nothing to do with anyone, but he still hung around the lobby and offered as much support as he could to Charlie.
It was the third week when he’d really started to suffer. The lack of slumber consumed his entire being. Not because he needed it, but because he wanted it. He wanted to shut his eyes and lose periods of time. He wanted to push himself into a state where he no longer had to be himself.
He stared up at the ceiling, wide awake. The temptation to force himself to rest was so strong his hands shook with it – but he didn’t. He couldn’t.
Because he feared that if he let himself start to lose so much time again, he’d never come back from it.
He was happy.
His relationship with Charlie was so much better, and Lucifer had a fucked-up partner he begrudgingly loved.
He should be happy.
Everything he’d wanted, he now had; he was an important part of his daughter’s life, and he had a partner that begrudgingly loved him back (in his bizarre, Alastor way of doing so.)
So then why was he still miserable?
It always led to this, and he didn’t understand why. His brain had been broken somewhere along the way, and he’d never managed to fix it.
Sleep was the only way Lucifer had managed to get himself to function, and even that wasn’t working for him – now he had nothing but himself, in bed, in a room full of ducks, and a whole lot of disappointment.
All it had taken was a bad couple of weeks, and now the thought of leaving bed filled Lucifer with such an overwhelming sense of affliction and hopelessness. He couldn’t even bring himself to sit up. His limbs felt useless from where they rested against the mattress, and he was left to do was just think.
Lilith was right; he was immature and incapable of handling himself.
Lucifer didn’t miss her like he used to – not since he’d fallen in love with Alastor. His wedding ring had been sitting in his drawer for who-knows-how-long, and he didn’t really think about her. At least, not like he did before.
But, sometimes, her missing presence weighed down on him, and he was aware of why he’d lost her. It wasn’t because of anything but Lucifer’s inability to be normal.
It used to be cute and quirky to her, but as his mind began to deteriorate, he’d lost her along with himself. He didn’t miss her anymore, but he still wore the humiliation of his mistakes; all the things he’d done wrong and all the times he could’ve, and should’ve, been better.
Lucifer never managed to get things right, did he?
--
Lucifer didn’t know what day it was, but he did know that he hadn’t gotten up in days. Still, he didn’t sleep. He didn’t even know if he could like this, with his mind so loud.
By the time Alastor came back, Lucifer was too far gone to go and say hi. He was so ashamed. He didn’t even want Alastor to come back – for the sole reason of the demon’s disappointment when he’d find Lucifer back at the same old shit.
He was convinced that Alastor would be so disgusted by him, and decide to start spending his days back in his room alone – unlike how the sinner let Lucifer spend all his free hours in his room, even letting him snuggle up on the bed Alastor never used.
Alastor emerged from the shadows, next to his bed. Lucifer had drawn the curtains shut, letting his tower remain dark throughout. He just didn’t want anyone to see him. Even though he rationally knew that the only one who could see him from his window would be Alastor in his radio tower.
Lucifer’s face was burning, and he was glad that, due to the lack of light within the room, Alastor couldn’t see how gold his face was. He didn’t need to turn his head to know that the look on the sinner’s face was not a happy one.
“You aren’t asleep.” Alastor’s tone said that he was surprised and expected Lucifer to be deep in slumber.
Lucifer just nodded, not looking at Alastor. He felt so exposed, but he didn’t want to pull the blanket over him. So, he stayed lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling lights that remained off.
A gentle, clawed hand brought Lucifer’s face to look at him. Lucifer tried to look anywhere else, but he eventually had to give in and look the demon in his eyes.
His heart clenched at the softness in Alastor’s eyes. He had never seen him like this. He hadn’t even thought the sinner was capable of giving such a look.
He missed Alastor. That was hard to admit, but it was undeniable. He’d grown to really care about the sinner, and desire his presence. His life felt colder in his absence.
Lucifer had really come to enjoy having a partner, and it was hard to have it gone – even if for a short time.
“You’re upset,” Alastor pointed out. The mattress sunk with the sinner’s weight as he sat down at the edge of the bed Lucifer had just spent over a week lying in.
Lucifer wasn’t upset – well, maybe a bit. But it was more than that. His upset stemmed from his uncontrollable spurts of uselessness. Before now, he’d been relatively numb; letting days pass him by in a blur.
Words didn’t come to him. He felt stuck. Every time a thought came to him, it was lost before he could open his mouth. It was humiliating.
The demon took a second to take in Lucifer’s poor state, before saying, “I didn’t know it was this bad.” His tone wasn’t judging Lucifer, but it brought shame curling in his gut nonetheless. Lucifer didn’t know what he looked like, but the severity of Alastor’s response had him feeling like he must look as bad as he felt.
He felt the need to apologize, or cover for himself, but once again, nothing came out of him. He’d never had to interact with someone when he got like this – this was the first time.
Alastor shifted, taking his shoes off and lying next to him. He wordlessly pulled Lucifer to his chest, and wrapped his arms around him.
It was the most affection Alastor had ever offered him, and Lucifer was paralyzed with the fear of messing it up.
Claws brushed through his hair, pushing it back and uncaring of how messy the locks were. Alastor gently detangled his hair with his fingers. “If you want to sleep, I’ll wake you in a few hours,” the sinner muttered.
Lucifer wanted to sleep. Badly. But something about Alastor’s warm hold had him keeping awake. He stayed silent, but he was awake as the demon played soft jazz from his cane, which was never too far away, and Alastor held onto him, running his claws across Lucifer’s scalp in a way that felt amazing.
He realized that he felt loved, and something about that had tears stinging in his eyes. He didn’t let them fall, but he could feel them.
Lucifer had plenty of time to slumber – and he likely would soon, with Alastor lulling him into a dreamless slumber – but he let himself enjoy the moment of feeling cared for, before he’d be pushed into sleep.