Work Text:
Adam was on a casual call with Eve when he got the message that he would be hosting a meeting with a visitor from Hell, as per Lucifer's request.
Why is it that Adam always had to deal with that fucker's mess?
At least he got to bitch to Eve about it too until he was satiated — which was pretty quick. Eve always had something horrible to say about him, the Devil who tricked her and then indirectly sentenced all of women to painful childbearing experiences. The venom ran deep. Adam shamelessly took advantage and spurred it on, forever.
None of it stopped the meeting, however, so here he was, the next day, waiting in his office for this individual whom Lucifer sent to Heaven for a discussion of... whatever. Adam didn't really bother reading the whole message, and in fact, he was ready to forget about the meeting at all. Just to emphasise of the lack of fucks he gives about Lucifer and all he is about, really.
But Lute yammered on about it, somewhat excitedly because she was a bloodthirsty bitch who wanted to see Adam and Lucifer's envoy throw hands, so here he was in person. When he could have been doing this entire thing from bed with his dear wife.
He already misses her.
"You look tetchy, sir," Lute helpfully supplied with her straight ass posture and perfect eyeliner. Fuck her.
"No shit Sherlock, Lute, tetchy isn't even the word. I think the correct word would be... fucking— cantankerous, or something." Adam threw his arms in the air, impromptu stretching. "Who the fuck is this meeting even with?"
"Charlie Morningstar."
"Morningstar?" Adam intoned, perplexed. "Who the fuck is Charlie Morningstar?"
Lute opened her mouth, but just in time as it hit eleven o'clock Heaven Time Zone, the door opened and a woman in a flawlessly ironed ruby suit pushed their door open.
When Adam caught sight of her, he had to momentarily gape at the extremely familiar, despicable shape of her face. The stupid colour of her oh-so-blonde hair. The indubitable relation to Adam's fucking nemesis — he shut that train of thought, schooling his face into something less vulnerably angry, because Lord he'd need some walls to bring up before he loses his shit at this turn of events. And whatever proceeds after.
Charlie Morningstar, the fucking daughter of Lucifer Morningstar — since when did they have these? — smiled at them indecisively and brushed her locks behind her ear. "Good morning, everyone!"
"Yes, it is." Adam said monotonously. He waved his hand to across the table. "Please, sit. Your name is?"
Charlie took a cursory glance at Lute, who had a severe face on just good enough to not look like Adam was bluffing his ass off with all these manners — but Adam never said he wouldn't be a fucking liar when times call for it, and it's not like Lute is there for the important meetings where Adam has no choice but to act presentable, like now, holy shit.
Swiftly and efficiently, Charlie walked to her seat with a bunch of papers in her arms (drawn on with colourful crayon? The fuck did she come here for, an art contest?) and swallowed nervously.
"My name is Charlie Morningstar, the crown princess of Hell!" she started, bringing her hand for him to shake. "I'm very happy to meet you, Mister...?"
"Name's Adam, just call me that." He could tone down the formality, Adam concluded, steadily shaking the proposed hand. This girl seemed like she needed some casualness, youthful enthusiasm vibrating all about her even while she was attempting to appear cool and polite. Adam felt so old looking at her, fucking hell.
"Adam?" Charlie parroted back with wide eyes, hovering above her chair like a glitched NPC. "You mean, like, First Man Adam?"
"Yeah, no biggie, a guy just like any other, sit down," Adam waved his hand dismissively, because a Dickmaster whom the Royalty of Hell acknowledged has no need to reestablish his position. That's such a hilarious bar, holy shit, Eve would laugh her ass off. "What's the topic for this meeting?"
"Oh! So, I'm glad we had this opportunity to meet. There is a project that I've started which I really wanted to talk to you about!"
"What is it?"
"I've come up with a solution to our biggest problem!"
Adam wrecked his head for one. There were so many that it wasn't funny. "Fucking— time travellers?"
"What? No, is that actually a problem?"
Adam quirked an eyebrow. "Are you one?"
"I— no?" Charlie cocked her head.
"Yeah no, I think you're made of the same fabric as the rest of us," then Adam turned to Lute so she could say her own suggestion. "You go."
Lute thought about it. "Sexism?"
Charlie's face didn't light up. The gears in Adam's mind were working fast. "Oh, oh— global warming? No, that's Earth's problem— shit, the annual massacring of my kids?"
Lute mournfully sighed. "Sir..."
"Why— actually!" Charlie understood what he was saying a second later than Lute, her wide red eyes gleaming nauseatingly. "If you're referring to the Exterminations, you're spot on!"
"Fuck yeah, seriously?" Adam leaned across Charlie, aureate eyes widening. "So, you're here to propose a humane alternative to the Exterminations?"
Charlie grinned, jumping off her chair. "That's right!"
Adam whooped and spun to Lute, gesturing at Charlie uncontrollably. "This is why I say that praying to God works, Lute! This is literally His grace in action, Lute!"
He then spun back to Charlie, who was probing them for their reactions and found herself relieved to find answering enthusiasm from the First Man.
The First Man in question took a deep, calming breath. Fuck. "Okay, hold on, we have to hear your plan out first."
Charlie laughed nervously and shuffled her drawings. "Alright, uhm, so... the issue is, Hell is overpopulated, and it is definitely taking its toll on the local economy, but you see—" Charlie put down a picture for Adam and Lute's purview, which was a colourful, PG version of the Exterminations taking place. Adam didn't even bother with it, but Lute was definitely fighting down a laugh. He knew her. "If we rehabilitate those sinners and cleanse them, then maybe—"
Adam liked this idea, no matter how fucking batshit insane it was. "You want to make them legit for Heaven’s criteria?"
Charlie nodded with alacrity, eyes wide and bright and grin plastered so wide it would have unnerved Adam if he didn't have the exact same expression on. "Yes! Exterminations aren't necessary then, and you don't have to fly down every year to kill and lose resources this way!"
Lute hummed calmly, although Adam knew this topic to be a sour spot for her — she was his lieutenant, was for centuries, and she definitely enjoyed the process more than any of his girls. It was one of the things about her that made Adam slightly uneasy in the stomach — no matter what he thought of it, there definitely was a sadistic streak within Lute that wasn't going anywhere. She was only just work-minded and teamwork-oriented enough to make the cut for her position — and, of course, powerful. Adam trained her himself from the beginning, when she was just a clueless little girl.
The meeting lasted a few hours, and by the end of it, a few things were decided:
1. Adam will give Charlie his phone number and he will take a look at the Hotel himself, see what it's made of and what there is to change to accommodate their goal, sustain a list of things that would get one to Heaven, and maybe, just maybe if the possibility presents itself — stay there, to see how it works.
2. He will invest time in it until the next Extermination, when he would be needed as a leader, which was in six months from then on.
"Wait," Charlie took a moment to compute it before her face broke down in a desperate shock. "Six months?!"
"Yeah, yeah, fuck, sorry—" Adam winced sympathetically, leaning away. He came to like the girl, despite her ass father, but it turned out he wasn't all that present in her life either — it makes sense why she is so bearable, then. "Not mine or Lute's decision. Someone of yours killed someone of ours. Not much I can do."
"That's classified information!" Lute hissed into Adam's face. He blinked.
Oh yeah. "Fuck. Welp, if we're gonna be business partners, I suggest we learn how to keep each other's secrets?" Adam, ever the optimist he wasn't, winked at Charlie.
Charlie jerkily nodded with a small, feeble smile of her own. "Of course! Lips zipped tight. Ah—" suddenly she checked her watch with a frown, which prompted Adam to look for a clock in the room. With her uncanny understanding of Adam, Lute reported aloud: "It is five o'clock."
Adam straightened. "Shit, seriously? Fuck, Eve's gonna disembowel me for this!” he chuckled as he faced Lute.
Charlie gasped. "Oh, okay! Alright! That was a very productive meeting, thank you so much, Mister Adam!" The woman assembled her papers, with her silly notes in crayon (which turned out to mostly be useless) and the pen Lute conjured her before standing up and walking to Adam and Lute's side of the table with a friendly smile.
Adam waved her gratitude away before he was made to accept the young woman's hug. Adorable. Wait, what? "No issue, what the fuck? Thank you, I'm glad I won't have to approve murder missions anymore if your rehab hotel works."
Charlie tightened her embrace one last time, Adam returning it with the same force twice over, before Charlie began to pummel his back so that he let her out. Lute professionally shook hands with Charlie, and the woman almost skipped out of the meeting room, crayon-drawn rainbows and aromatic flowers metaphorically flourishing behind her every bouncy step.
"Attagirl," Adam murmured, watching her go with an unmistakeable sense of pride. He could feel Lute's knowing gaze on his cheekbone, but decided he couldn't give two fucks about it.
"Fuck," Adam breathed out before turning to Lute and squeezing her smaller frame with his wings.
"Why—" Lute squeaked, pushing his feathery attack off her shoulders.
Adam grabbed her wrists with a big grin on his face."'Why, Lute? Cause it's a fucking happy day in Heaven!"