Chapter Text
It was rare for him to wake up to warmth.
When had he last felt it?
Like… Truly felt it?
When had he last allowed himself to indulge in it?
His memory tugged at the answer, pulling him back to when he was nine years old.
So many years had passed, hadn’t it?
Indeed, so many years had passed since then... Too many to count, even in his lifetime. Worse still in his afterlife.
But back then... sometimes, he could still remember it as if it were only yesterday.
His mother’s arms would cradle him as he drifted to sleep, cocooned in a love that wrapped tighter than any fear. The sound of her heartbeat, the scent of her hair—it had been everything. Everything to that scared little boy, terrified of the barbaric world around him.
That warmth had been his sanctuary.
That warmth had been his hope to survive another day.
But even that had come to an abrupt end—he had been stripped of that luxury, all at once, out of the blue.
His wretched father had ensured it, declaring he was too old for such tenderness, that it had to stop—or else.
Maybe that’s when his personal grudge began. Who knows, really?
All he knew was that, after that day, there were no more soft hugs to pull him from nightmares, no soothing whispers telling him everything would be alright. His mother, for all her love, had been forced to abandon that nightly ritual. Her arms, once a refuge, were shackled by fear.
And then, as if his suffering wasn’t enough, she was gone altogether when he was only thirteen.
That warmth vanished forever.
He had believed he would never feel it again. Never again... or so he thought.
Yet here he was, enveloped in the same—no, not the same, but something achingly similar —warmth from a long-forgotten past.
This warmth, this familiar sensation of being held, of someone there for him, which had faded so long ago... it had made an unexpected return when he least expected it.
That sadistic overlord…
No.
That terrified soul, what remained of the innocent little boy he once was—despite everything he had done, every mistake, big and small—lay still now, almost afraid to open his eyes. Petrified that this new warmth was just a cruel trick his mind had conjured.
He’d grown used to the cold, hadn’t he?
To the emptiness, to a world where affection was something to be earned, not given freely.
He didn’t deserve this. Not again.
But then, a soft hum wove its way into his ears, tugging him from the depths of old memories. The melody was unmistakable—a lullaby he hadn’t heard in years, one his mother used to sing. A song from a life long past, a tune he thought he’d never hear again.
A lullaby from a time lost. A lullaby from a life long gone.
A melody, familiar and gentle, floated on the air, soothing him as if it were the only thing that mattered in this flawed, fragile world.
“Now hush, little baby, don't you cry
Everything's gonna be alright…”
It wasn’t her voice, though. No, this one was deeper, smoother, yet it held the same tenderness, the same quiet affection.
“—Stiffen that upper lip up, little baby, I told ya
Daddy's here to hold ya through the night
I know Mommy's not here right now and we don't know why
We feel how we feel inside…”
It wasn’t the cherished voice of his mother cradling him as if the world were about to end. The lyrics were also wrong—so very wrong. And yet… yet somehow… despite it all, Alastor’s shriveled, perhaps blackened heart clenched all the same, the song filling the space between them.
“—It may seem a little crazy, pretty baby
But I promise Mama's gon' be alright…”
The words used were all wrong. However, for some odd reasons, this soothed him more than he could have imagined.
He said his beloved mama would be alright.
He promised, didn’t he? And when it came to things that truly mattered, he never wore his title as the Father of Lies.
Then… perhaps it was alright to believe in this, even if it was just another gentle lie spun by the devil himself.
“And if you ask me to, Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird
I'ma give you the world
I'ma buy a diamond ring for you, I'ma sing for you
I'll do anything for you to see you smile
And if that mockingbird don't sing and that ring don't shine
I'ma break. That. Birdie's. Neck.
I'll go back to the jeweler who sold it to ya
And make him eat every carat, don't fuck with Dad!”
In the end, he couldn’t help himself.
“You ruined it all, mon ange. Those were not how it’s supposed to go~” His smirk twitched as he peeled one eye open, easily greeted by the source of the warmth he hadn’t even known he’d been craving for himself.
That fallen angel grinned brightly, yet not too blinding for him somehow. His words chirped along, yet they weren’t too annoying for him. “Why, I like this version better. More honest to what I would do~”
The cheeky little devil quipped, before his smile melted into that familiar fondness as he pressed their foreheads together, his safe arms still securely wrapped around Alastor as if knowing that, for once, he was more than just tolerating this.
“Good morning, Al.”
Alastor wasn’t sure why his voice was slightly strained, as if afraid to reach out despite his earlier song. Maybe his little angel had seen something while he was in the chokehold of a sleep haze. Maybe something had happened to his own night, the reason he was awake before the sun even rose. Or maybe he was still measured in his approach, not wanting to step past the boundaries that Alastor had carefully built around himself—always so considerate, that foolish angel is.
The sinner couldn’t tell which one it was, but whatever it was, it hardly mattered to him. He wasn’t so keen on parting ways with this warmth just yet. Which is why, slowly, and cautiously as well, he pulled the smaller yet sturdier build to embrace him further. A gesture that would tell the other that he, Alastor, wanted this too. That he wanted to let himself believe… that he deserved this too.
Not because there were injuries, not because there was a nightmare to fend off, not because it was a need.
But simply because he deserved it.
And well, it seemed like the devil got it—attentive as ever, that little darling devil of his.
“Good morning, Luce. You made my night, mon diable.”
He watched as the other’s smile turned even more genuine, his touch loosening, less careful, more honest.
“I’m glad that’s the case, Mio demonio. You can always ask for more, should you need it. I’m going nowhere anyway.”
Indeed, he’s here forever, isn’t he?
And Alastor too… suddenly the promise of forever didn’t seem so suffocating anymore.
Lucifer was here, and for now, the warmth stayed.