Archive of Our Own ^beta

It had hurt.

Lucifer hadn’t remembered it hurting so much the first time.

It had felt like whatever little life he had grown within him was fighting being brought into the hellscape they would inherit…like hooked claws were digging into his flesh and actively resisting.  It had been singularly terrible and the king had been torn between screaming in agony and begging for forgiveness.  After all, what child wouldn’t resist being born into all of this horror? What child wouldn’t resist having him as a mother?

Selfish.

He’d been so selfish to go through with this…to lock this little soul into the prison of his twisted, sullied flesh because, what? He couldn’t bear to be alone? He wanted a fresh start? 

Selfish and weak.

But they were here.  They were here and in the cradle just next to his bed where he could reach out and touch them.  Well…he could if his body didn’t feel like a war zone…like a fallow No Man’s Land bereft of life or vitality.  Weakly, Lucifer attempted to lift one sin-stained hand towards the cradle that held his baby.  He would have asked for help, but he was too exhausted to work his jaw…too weary and wrung-out to even dream of opening his mouth.  Not that he would have gotten it even if he could speak.

He was alone.

The king could remember so little of the birth, but he knew for a fact that he’d been left to his own devices.  It…it hurt.

It hurt, but he didn’t blame anyone.  He couldn’t.  How could he even begin to blame them when he’d gotten himself into this mess? Charlie had her hotel to run and a loving relationship to try and keep together.  Angel had his own troubles to contend with, as did Husk, and Alastor…

Alastor.

Lucifer’s exhausted brain rapidly yanked the wheel away from that perilous, ruinous tenderness that had come to accompany the Sinner’s name in recent days.  It was somehow even more confusing and painful than what he’d just endured was.  Than giving birth to…to….

What had he named them?

Lucifer’s brow furrowed in concern and he blinked bleary golden eyes at the ceiling, trying to get his head together.  He’d named the baby…right? Why couldn’t he remember what it was? 

Wait.

What gender were they?

He should know, right?

He did know…didn't he?

Groaning and trying to shove himself up on the bed to go to his baby, Lucifer was burdened again by the utter nerveless lack of strength that was shot through his entire form.  All he could manage to do was turn his head on the pillow, sweaty hair clinging to his rosy cheeks.  He didn’t remember being this wrecked after Charlie…

When he craned his neck to try and get a look at the infant he had supposedly delivered but was rapidly remembering less and less about with every passing moment, Lucifer felt his lungs stutter to a stop in his chest.  

Where once he had been positive he was alone in the room, there was now a figure looming over the bassinet.  It was…it was big .  Hulking even.  The shoulders were massive with a slight slouch to them…a messy head full of tousled hair…a barrel chest that Lucifer found more and more familiar against his will even while he fought to hold on to memories of the child he’d just birthed.  A gleaming smile like the edge of a knife cut through the black of the room.

No…no that wasn’t right.  The lights had been on before.  Lucifer knew they’d been on before.  Hadn’t they? Panic started to claw its way up his throat like creeper vines, choking him.  He was having trouble breathing.  What was happening? What was happening? Why couldn’t he remember anything and why wasn’t he alone when he knew he’d been alone before? Where was the bed? Why was he suddenly trapped in an empty void devoid of anything but himself, the new figure, and the baby he couldn’t remember between them?

He needed to get up, but he couldn’t.  Lucifer couldn’t move at all.

The figure could, though, their huge body leaning over the bassinet and reaching in.  When they spoke, their voice was mocking and far, far too familiar, “You thought you were gonna get away with it huh, bitch?”

Lucifer choked around his thwarted need to yell, to scream, to stop the man from touching his baby, to run run run…

Adam’s horrible smile turned into a nasty little leer, “Taking something else of mine, that is.  Nah.”

The First Man’s hands dipped into the bassinet and Lucifer could hear the rustle of fabric as he touched the baby, gathered them up.  Inside the cradle and beyond the trapped king’s line of sight, the baby began to wail.  The little Fallen made a herculean effort to rise and find he couldn’t even manage so much as a twitch.  He couldn’t even squeak.  He was trapped in the prison of his own unresponsive flesh, forced to watch with a howling scream caged in his ribs while his rapist lifted their child from the safety of the cradle.

Just as helpless and worthless as every time he’d been forced into the bigger man’s bed to be violated by fucking contractual arrangement.

“We’ll call this even for Lilith, huh?” Adam smirked, cradling the baby to his chest so Lucifer could see nothing, “Maybe we’ll do another and that’ll clean the slate for Eve.  What do you think, Lucifer?”

“Lucifer?”

“Lucifer!”

The King of Hell awakened with a start and a gasp as hands landed on his shoulders and gave him a firm shake.  He choked hard, realizing that his throat felt raw.  His two-tone eyes darted around the room while he panted.  His body felt sticky and he realized he was covered in sweat…his face itchy and hot, damp with tears.  

As his vision cleared, Lucifer found himself looking up into the bottomless scarlet eyes and rictus smile of none other than the Radio Demon.

Alastor was looming over him, his ruby hair a little bit ruffled and his customary grin pulled so tight it looked painful.  He was…he looked concerned?

Lucifer was vaguely aware of a clawed hand brushing through the sweaty fringe of his hair while the Sinner above him spoke, his voice fading in and out as the king fought to free himself from the lingering tendrils of horror, “You were screaming, Your Majesty.  Are you in pain? Do you need to go to Sloth?”

Gasping to force breath into his aching lungs, the little Fallen wheezed, “N-no…it’s…it was a nightmare…just” his next breath felt more like a sob and he shoved his own fingers into his hair to ground himself, “Just…just a nightmare…”

He wanted very much to curl up into himself, to wind his body up into a little singularity of panic avoidance in the sweat-stained sheets where he could melt down privately away from the prying carmine gaze of the Radio Demon.  He was prevented by the gravid swell of his own stomach, a new sun in his private cosmos steering him away from the utter collapse he sought.  Lucifer hissed on a breath as he fought to remind his lungs that they weren’t actually paralytic, bringing shaking claws up to his belly and smoothing over the taut skin beneath his clothing.

The Fallen reminded himself of what was real.

He knew without a doubt that his child was a girl.

He knew for a fact that he hadn’t given birth yet.

He knew for certain that Adam wasn’t here anymore.

He knew that when the time came he wouldn’t…he wouldn’t be…

But would he, though?

Swallowing thickly, Lucifer realized that was the one thing he wasn’t actually sure about…whether or not he’d be alone when it was time to deliver the new baby.  Of course Charlie would want to be there and she loved him, but she was so busy and babies were unpredictable at the best of times.  If she was in a lesson and he was alone when it started, what happened then?  Vaggie would be with her, surely, so…

The claws in his hair shifted and the King blinked, turning to gaze up at the other man in the room, at his surgically keen depthless stare as a static-laden voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts again, “...They feel quite real though, do they not? The dreams.”

The sentiment startled the king and he blinked two-tone eyes up at the grinning Sinner, noting that the smile seemed a little less sharp around the edges.

It confused him and he wanted to get away from that raw, exposing understanding that he saw there…the unbearable terror of being seen , so he snapped like a cornered dog, “Pft, and what would you know about it?”

Alastor strangely resisted taking the bait.

Instead, he continued to stare down at the Devil himself with an inscrutable expression, smile still lacking the razor edge of mockery Lucifer had grown used to in the time before his pregnancy, “Mortal souls know quite a great deal about nightmares, Your Majesty.”

“You make enough of them, I guess” Lucifer huffed, but this attempt lacked the teeth of the last one, coloured ever so faintly by curiosity instead.

“Mm, perhaps,” Alastor said back with deceptive lightness that the king struggled to interpret, “Our petty squabbles and little terrors must seem so very distant to you with all the eons you’ve endured.  But do recall, sire, that our time is brief and those meager horrors so much greater in comparison to the mere spit of time we’re granted.”

Feeling mildly chastened after his outburst, the little blonde could only nod and feel tired.  He saw the moment Alastor realized he was capitulating and the smile became even smaller…close-mouthed, calmer.

“Your Majesty,” the Radio Demon began.

“...Lucifer,” the king cut him off, offering his name like an apology for his attempt to upset the other man.

“Very well, then.  Lucifer,” Alastor continued and graciously didn’t make a big deal about the lack of formality he was being granted in this private space, “Believe it or not, your nightmares are in no way unique.  Before you get testy , I mean that as a comfort.  It means that you aren’t the first or only person to endure them…that people are, in fact, able to empathize.”

Pressing himself to sit up in bed, as if the nightmares could find him again if he stayed recumbent, Lucifer raised an eyebrow, “Are you trying to tell me the Big Bad Radio Demon has nightmares?”

“When I allow myself to sleep? Yes indeedy,” the stag’s smile tipped into a smirk as Lucifer watched, “It’s almost funny, really.  I died quite a long time ago now, but reminding my slumbering mind that trench warfare isn’t anything we need concern ourselves with anymore is nigh on impossible!”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed and his mouth pulled into a concerned line, “Trench warfare? What…?”

“I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you’re not exactly swotted up on the ins and outs of mortal wartime history?” 

“I…” the king wracked his brain, finding his own nightmare fading into the distance as his former rival (when had they become former?) offered him this tidbit, “...I mean…I notice when a whole lot of you come down here at once and assume you’ve gotten up to something nasty up there, but I don’t…Alastor, I don’t get to go topside, no matter what the stories say.  I have agents who can go for me, but I’m tethered.”

“As I thought,” the other man said with no ire, “Well, do you recall a glut of us about…say…one-hundred and eight years ago now?”

The tiny blonde rested a hand on his stomach and scrunched his nose, wracking his tired mind for any details he could recall.  Charlie would have been just over a hundred by then…not quite to her angry phase (he tracked so many things by Charlie’s phases).  He hadn’t been totally lost in his own head then and he was pretty sure he remembered suddenly seeing a lot of painfully young souls down here all at once…

“...Sort of?” 

Alastor hummed, but it didn’t feel like he was being rude, so Lucifer let it go, “Well, around that time there was what we called the Great War.  I understand it was so ‘great’ we went and had another one about six years after my death, but we didn’t know then we’d be asking for an encore, so it was just that.  The Great War.  Not World War One as it would later be called.”

Lucifer silently shaped his lips around the words ‘world war’ and felt a shiver go down his spine.

“Naturally, a war of such size and scale requires a lot of bodies to throw beneath the wheels as it were.  Drafts went out…conscriptions…general patriotic calls for fresh-faced cannon fodder to lay themselves down in the mud,” the other man went on.

“You?” The Devil asked softly if only to show he was actually listening.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to leave maman all alone of my own free will.  But, alas, my number came up and it was either lose me to the police for dodging the draft or lose me to the war.  At the time, I believed I had a better chance coming back from the war than I did an American prison,” Alastor hummed as if the thought was no more heavy than a cloud, “Of course, I was extremely young then, and twice as foolish.”

This time, Lucifer said nothing, just staring at the other man and stroking his own stomach as some form of self-soothing ritual.

The Radio Demon flicked one delicate wrist, talking with his hands while he went on, “I was quite lucky for my voice.  I believe it may have been the only thing that saved me from the front…that and good old Marconi.  But being spared the worst of it isn’t much of a blessing when everything was death, fire, mustard gas, barbed wire, and the squeals of the animals.  With the state of radio back then, even I had to venture into the field.”

His eyes, normally ever-watchful, went vague and distant, “It’s funny, really, what that much death does to a man in his teenage years.  There comes a day when you see so very many bodies that they cease to bother you and you realize they’re simply not people to you anymore.”

Lucifer watched as full awareness snapped back into his gaze and the demon flashed a full, toothy grin at him as if to cover his little slip, “Or maybe that’s just me! Ha! At any rate, my dear, these troublesome memories have a tendency to follow me.  It was common of many of the men who survived to return home.  When you’re in one, they feel so very real sometimes.”

Well now Lucifer just felt like an asshole.

“I…” the king sighed heavily and buried a sin-stained claw into his hair, drawing his knees up as close as they could with his belly in the way and draping the other over top of them, “Sorry.  I shouldn’t have snapped at you.  That was…ah…thanks for telling me that.”

Alastor didn’t acknowledge his thanks directly, but that wild smile calmed again into something almost not-terrifying which was…good enough?

“I believe I can forgive a bout of high spirits after the nightmare you seemed to be having,” the other man said, seeming to dismiss his concerns (though Lucifer tracked that his tight shoulders relaxed ever so slightly).

“It was…yeah,” Lucifer’s throat clicked as he swallowed down the ripple of dread that started just below his ribcage, “I…Adam came for her.  For the baby.  I couldn’t move and it felt like after the Fall again…when I was too broken to do anything and…”

He felt his breathing pick up without his permission and suddenly a gloved hand was gently extricating his fingers from his own hair, plucking blonde strands from his grip.  He hadn’t realized he’d been pulling at it.  The king blinked at the gaunt man in front of him as Alastor made a point of working his joints…flexing his fingers as if to prove to him he was whole and he could, in fact, move.  His body wasn’t broken.  He wasn’t broken.

He was surprised to find Alastor ran cooler than he’d expected, though maybe that was just the fine leather of his glove.

Lucifer always always ran hot.

Gently, he extricated his hand from the gentle pressure of Alastor’s and curled it up to his chest, “Sorry…for the inconvenience, I mean.  The,” Lucifer flared his claws in little jazz hands next to his own messed up head, “screaming, and all.  I’m fine now…”

“Perhaps best if you went back to bed then, Lucifer.  You’ve had quite a dreadful shock and you really should rest,” Alastor hummed, going to rise from his seat.

The king’s narrow chest clenched at the idea of being left alone with only his own head again and without thinking he snatched Alastor’s wrist, “Wait!”

He cringed when he realized what he’d done…that the gangly Sinner was staring down at him in interest.

Lucifer let go like he’d been burned even though the taller man’s wrist was as pleasantly cool as his hand, “I um…let’s not be hasty there.  I don’t…ah…that is…” 

So much for playing it off.

Sighing heavily, Lucifer shifted on the bed and let himself just be vulnerable, “...I don’t think I want to go back to sleep right now, actually.  It all still feels too close.”

A month ago he would have swallowed his own tongue rather than admit something so earnest to the Sinner who had wormed his way into Charlie’s ventures and life.  He would have torn out his traitorous larynx instead of let it ever give shape to this weakness in front of the other man.  But…but hadn’t Alastor stayed with him when he’d asked? Hadn’t Alastor been the one to shake him out of his nightmare?

Hadn’t Alastor put up with his temper to let himself be vulnerable? 

Father, what had changed?

Lucifer didn’t understand it entirely and didn’t have the capacity to pick it apart right now, so instead he just took what comfort he could.  He’d melt down over it later, probably, but all he knew right now was that he had a grand total of zero desire to be alone or to sleep.

It was Alastor who once again saved him from drowning in a sea of his own awkwardness by making a considering sound, “Well.  I suppose I can understand that.  Besides, leaving you to stew in your own stress would certainly be bad for the baby.  So! Shall we go down to the kitchens to see if we can secure you a cup of tea? At this hour they should be quite deserted.”

The Devil didn’t even need to think all that hard before accepting the life preserver he was being thrown, “...That actually sounds great.  Thanks.”

He decided he didn’t need to understand any of this right now.

~*~

Even a few months ago Alastor would have cut his own throat before admitting that things had become ‘comfortable’ between himself and Lucifer Morningstar.

Since the day they’d met, Alastor had been operating under the idea that the First Fallen was an arrogant little trollop with more mouth than clout…a dithering clown and a certified pain in his derriere.  He was a cotton-headed little nothing of a celestial being with an unfortunate habit of getting under Alastor’s well-heeled feet at the absolute worst times.

But so much had changed in such a seemingly short amount of time…because things were, in fact, comfortable.

Alastor was chagrined to find he didn’t find himself dismayed about that fact.

The weeks had progressed from that disquieting day when Adam had wormed his way back into Lucifer’s night terrors with a startling domesticity that the Radio Demon hadn’t entirely noticed at first.

How could he have? 

Every bread crumb that had led him down this path of caring about the pint-sized monarch beyond using him as a stepping stone to power was so small.  Every little act he’d undertaken since that night was so negligible in the stag’s greater machinations that he’d hardly taken them into account until one day he’d looked over his shoulder to see how utterly fucked he truly was.

It started with his Shadow.

Alastor had every idea that Lucifer would continue to have nightmares for quite some time as his pregnancy progressed now that he knew his tormentor was alive and lurking right there in the Pride Ring.  It was a simple truth that he’d taken into account the very night he’d brought the Fallen down to the kitchen for a cup of peppermint tea after their chat.  However, it wasn’t as though the Sinner could simply take up sentinel duty at the king’s bedside every night - heavens to Betsy, no …but the idea of leaving him unattended sat wrong.  

Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t, truly.

If he did make a case for being present during the nighttime hours to monitor Lucifer’s sleeping state, not only did he run the risk of abject humiliation when the king ultimately considered it a gross overstep, but he also gambled with the rest of the hotel residents finding out.  Softened though the Radio Demon might be to their sovereign, it would hardly do for either of them if word got around.

But if he didn’t, then the nightmares would come again and there would be no one to save him from his screaming panic in the night.  He’d wake someone eventually and Charlie would certainly panic, poor girl.  Not to mention, Alastor didn’t even want to entertain the idea of what such nightly disturbances would do to Lucifer’s continued health when all he truly needed right now was some peace and quiet…actual restful sleep.

In the end, Alastor had decided on a rather elegant solution if he did say so himself.  

Every night when he spied the little blonde retiring to his own quarters, the Sinner quietly dispatched his shadow ahead of the king to lurk beneath his bed.  So intrinsically linked to Alastor’s own psyche was the creature that it alerted its master the very instant it detected anything resembling nightmares or a panic response.  It meant that Alastor could keep to his own rooms, but still be present to wake the Fallen before anything ever had a chance to distress him too much.

It wasn’t perfect, certainly.  Even if no one else in the hotel suspected anything (as far as he was aware, anyway), Alastor knew Lucifer wasn’t nearly so dim as he had originally surmised when they’d first met.  The man was both ancient and untrusting, and Alastor had clocked suspicion lurking under the gratitude in his eyes every time he opened them to see his daughter’s hotelier standing above him.

To the Radio Demon’s infinite relief, however, Lucifer apparently valued having his own personal Emotional Support Sinner around too much to ever say a word about it.

It became routine.

So did ensuring that the kitchen was continually stocked with peppermint and ginger tea on shelves that Lucifer could easily reach on his own.

So did making sure that there was always a pot of decaf coffee ready in the mornings alongside the usual fare to ensure the King could ‘rise and shine’, so to speak.

So did Alastor’s twice-daily strolls around the entirety of the hotel’s grounds just to ensure that Adam didn’t decide to test his luck.

So did volunteering himself to aid with Charlie’s attempts to ‘baby-proof’ the hotel in anticipation of her little sister’s arrival (which may or may not have included calling in a few favors with Rosie to anonymously provide some lovely, classy items for the nursery.  The Princess had cooed over the hand-carved bassinet that had appeared and, feeling quite smug about it, Alastor had feigned ignorance).

Consideration after kindness after accommodation all added up to something the Sinner truly found he couldn’t necessarily define when he at last stared it in the face.

It was a lot to ponder over as Alastor stood alone in the kitchen one night somewhere around the middle of month eight, sipping from a mug of chicory-bolstered coffee whilst he idly went through a bit of mise en place.  He’d gotten in the habit absolutely ages ago in the very late nights (or else very early mornings) to occupy himself when he didn’t particularly feel like allowing his brain to remind him the precise way a horse screamed when it took hours to perish in no man’s land.  It ensured that he had something to do with his hands and that the morning meal went off without a hitch.

Luckily, Lucifer seemed to be sleeping quite deeply tonight, so there was nothing to disturb him from his thoughts.

Why was Alastor, the dreaded Radio Demon, going so far? 

He had, in his own greedy and gluttonous way, wanted to know Lucifer after he had discovered the pregnancy…to pick him open and map out the shape of what fundamentally defined him.  Was this the price of his longing? To feel so relaxed at the very thought of him that he barely even registered when Lucifer made the conscious choice to sit next to him at dinner? To purposefully seek out a varnished cathedral radio to place on a shelf in the new baby’s nursery so the king could listen to it when he cared for her? Was the price of peeling open the heart of Lucifer Morningstar this gut-wrenching and covetous urge to keep it ?

Quickly, Alastor took a deep breath in through his nose and reached up with a knuckle to readjust his monocle.

That was quite enough of that.

…But what was it about knowing the king that made him want, Alastor’s traitorous brain whispered to him.

On some level, the Sinner supposed it was the flashes of his own maman he occasionally saw in the little man, but that was altogether too Oresteian for him, thank you very much.

Lucifer was so much frailer than Alastor had reckoned.  On that first day, all the Sinner had seen was a swaggering, pompous, entitled man with too much power to be held accountable for anything and no sense of responsibility.  He had thought then he was exposing the foppish braggart for what he was when he butted heads with the king, all the while failing to understand that the Fallen wasn’t clownish out of a lack of care.

No, what Alastor had been too incensed to see that day was the simple fact that the vaunted Star of Morning had been held accountable for far too much over his long life and had clearly reached a breaking point somewhere in his past…was still being pushed past it right up until almost nine months ago.  

The Fallen didn’t dance and sing his way through existence because he knew he was a destructive, unchallengeable powerhouse, but rather because he hadn’t been designed for destruction.  Most of the time ‘destroying’ things just outright didn’t occur to him.  For fuck’s sake, he’d watched Lute make a game attempt at murdering not only his daughter’s girlfriend but most of her acquaintances as well and he’d…asked her nicely to go home.  If he was truly the man Alastor had once thought he was, he would have wiped her out of reality with a thought.  He would have smited Alastor for his sass long ago, come to that.  More than that…he never would have submitted to roughly two-hundred years of sexual assault just for someone else's sake.

Lucifer was simultaneously more fragile and more resilient than Alastor had given him credit for considering the little man’s greatest fear right now was that his new daughter might not think he loved her enough.

That final thought hit low in the stag’s gut and he put down the knife he’d been using with a heavy sigh, resting against his knuckles on the countertop.

Fuck.

Care was a hideous price to pay for knowing someone.

The worst part was that Alastor didn’t even feel the old urge to use the information at his fingertips…to manipulate…to gain a single damn thing.

The king had been used enough, and poorly too.  

Alastor’s ears flicked backward on his head when he became aware of quiet shuffling intruding on what had once been his private space.  Straightening up from his position over the counter, he took up his knife again and went back to work rather than broadcast his inner conflict…one that the Radio Demon absolutely should not be having at this ungodly hour of the morning when he had far better things to do.

Speaking of the Devil’s Daughter…

None other than Charlotte Morningstar plodded into the kitchen, dressed in her red pajamas and those ridiculous little slippers with the pom-poms on them.  Her hair was, as per the norm upon first waking, an absolute wreck and her yellow eyes were bleary.  Clearly she had yet to fully join the land of the living…or at least the aware.  The princess stopped in her tracks and blinked slowly when she noticed him standing there.

“Oh…Alastor.  What are you doing up?”

Gesturing elegantly with his knife like the true showman he was, the Radio Demon brushed off his late-night musings and chirped out a merry, “Why, I’m always up at this hour, my dear! Bless your heart, did you think breakfast went smoothly on its own?”

“Oh…well…I thought whoever was on breakfast duty usually…” She hedged and Alastor could see her doing the math in that pretty blonde dome of hers.

He let out a chortle that was in no way faked, “Ha! Charlie, darling, at this point Husker and Vaggie are the only two people in this hotel I would trust to understand the value of efficient food preparation.  Nothing would ever get done on time if I weren’t there to give things the appropriate nudge in the right direction.”

She blinked at him again, rubbing at one of her eyes, “...You’re not overworked are you? I…I can start maybe doing some food prep at night so you don’t have to…”

Sensing the princess was going to wind herself up, Alastor neatly diverted her, “The question is what are you doing up at this hour, Charlie?”

It works and she brightens just a bit, “I just needed a glass of water, sorry.  I’ll grab it and get out from under your feet.”

Alastor mustered up a small chuckle at that, not quite as imperious as he’d intended it to sound, “I’m quite used to Morningstars under my feet at this point, my girl.”

He pretended not to see the searching look his comment invited.

Instead, he finished what he was doing at the cutting board and moved to wipe the knife down, blithely ignoring the way he could feel Charlie’s yellow gaze pinned on him.  Hoping to hustle her on, the Sinner slipped the knife back into its designated block and reached up for a glass he could hand to Charlie…perhaps remind her of her original intention in coming downstairs.

No such luck, however, as when he turned to offer it to her she was still watching and he cursed his loose tongue.

Still, she accepted the glass, rolling it idly between her long-fingered hands, “...Hey, Alastor?”

In for a penny, in for a pound the Sinner sighed to himself.

“Yes?” He asked in a tone he hoped conveyed he was still quite busy and really must get back to whatever it was he was doing before.

“I…I want to say thank you.  For how hard you’ve been working to be nicer to my dad.  Ever since that whole thing with…with Adam, I’ve noticed,” Alastor waited with a modicum of patience while she tripped over her own thoughts a little, “You’ve been…you two…”

The stag watched as she huffed, folded her arms over her stomach, and then promptly (gracelessly) spat out what she wanted to say, “...I saw your shadow leaving dad’s room yesterday morning.”

There was a squeal of radio feedback that Alastor was rather embarrassed to say he had not intended on and his smile froze into something approaching a grimace,  “Beg your pardon, dear?”

Yesterday evening had been one of the good ones for Lucifer.  There had been no nightmares and thus his shadow had made no attempt to summon him into the king’s room for succour.  Unfortunately, it appeared that meant the damned thing was spotted as it slithered back to its master in the early hours just before the miniature monarch rose for the day.

Charlie quickly unfolded her arms, holding up her hands (rather silly-looking while still clutching the cup), “I’m not judging.  So not judging.  I…I actually really like that you’ve been protective of him.  Dad withdraws into himself when things are hard and I’ve been worried that I’m not going to be able to keep an eye on him by myself.  It makes me feel good to know you’re helping.”

Damn, double damn, and triple damn the whole thing.

“Charlie, I’m not entirely sure…”

“I also know you patrol the grounds now,” she hastened to say.

Smile pulling up sharp and thin, Alastor knew he needed to get out of this conversation before it even had time to start.  He’d had quite enough soul searching for the morning and goodness knew he didn’t need Charlotte searching his soul as well.  He just had to figure out the appropriate level of nonchalance to adopt to put her off the scent without sounding too cutting.  He wanted to distract the Nephilim, not offend her.

Naturally, because the universe felt that death and consignment to Hell wasn’t punishment enough for his many sins topside, his shadow chose that moment to dart into the kitchen under his feet.  The dark facsimile of his own form and features slithered up his body to hiss into his ear without words.  Lucifer was coming down…not a nightmare, but simply restless.  Gracious.

Sighing, Alastor held up a single finger to Charlie to inform her to wait, “Please get your water, Princess.  I’ll only be a moment.”

He reached from his position to pick up the kettle, fill it with water, and place it down on the stovetop to begin heating.  Well aware of Charlie’s eyes on him, Alastor next plucked down Lucifer’s preferred mug and a sachet of the peppermint tea he enjoyed, setting both off to the side to wait while the kettle boiled.  When he finally turned back to the woman currently sharing his space, he noted with a sigh that she still hadn’t gotten her water.

Stubborn as mules, the Morningstars.

Setting his jaw, the Sinner tucked his hands behind his back, “I will speak quickly as your father will be with us shortly and I’m sure he wouldn’t like to know he was being discussed.  Charlie, dear, your father has been suffering severe night terrors of late.  This arrangement with my shadow is a compromise to ensure he can sleep alone but can be woken at a moment’s notice to avoid undue stress or anxiety this late in his pregnancy.  Simply that.”

She didn’t need to know Lucifer had never asked for it.  Let her think it was a mutually agreed upon thing rather than Alastor’s curious charity.

A deal made and not a kindness offered.

Still, the princess regarded him with pride shining in her eyes despite his quick attempt at obfuscation.  The wheels were turning in that busy brain of hers, but there wasn’t enough time to stop her as she finally ( finally ) filled her glass.  Somewhere along the road, the Radio Demon had lost control of his own image and the very notion of it put his back up, but what could he reasonably do? Nothing that wouldn’t irreparably tarnish his reputation with Charlie in distasteful ways, that’s what.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for making the effort.”

Yes indeed, it seemed the cost of knowing Lucifer Morningstar was the loss of the Radio Demon’s reputation.

Alastor tried to be disturbed that the idea didn’t bother him as much as it should have.

~*~

Lucifer was tired.

It was month number nine and he was so close to the finish line that it somehow made everything worse.

The Star of Morning was small .

He was very well aware of that fact when surrounded by Sinners and Hellborn who could easily reach nine or more feet in height without seeming unnatural.  Honestly, that wasn’t even a trait unique to Hell …the being-annoyingly-bigger-than-him thing.  Sera had towered over him when he’d been very young, to say nothing of his siblings or the First Humans.  Lucifer was just petite and he knew it, forever his Father’s little doll now relegated to a shelf in the basement for failing to please.

Him being small wasn’t a surprise, but somehow he kept finding himself bearing children for incredibly large people and it was hell on his bijou frame.  Lilith had been taller than him by a mile, but she was sleek and Charlie had inherited a combination of their slim builds.  Didn’t mean that carrying her had been a picnic, though.  Adam on the other hand…

The King let out a huff and jerked his mind away from thoughts of the First Man, thoroughly avoiding the slippery slope leading down to dark memories of broad shoulders and thick arms caging him in, of a barrel chest flattening him against the ground as dense fingers pried his thighs open….

Nope!

No, thank you.

He sighed and gently poked the place on his stomach where a belly button would currently be protruding against the soft knit of his apple red sweater if he had one.  A belly button, that was.  He very much had a sweater on.  It was soft and it felt good to cuddle up into while he sat his gravid ass on a couch downstairs with his hooves splayed out in front of him to relieve his swollen ankles.  

The point was that he was quite small and he kept on getting himself pregnant with proportionally large children thanks to his partners, willing or otherwise.  So he was swollen, tired, achy, suffering from the worst heartburn, and fully ready to sleep in a comfortable position that didn’t require an entire bed’s worth of pillows and a prayer to a God that definitely didn’t give a fuck about him getting a full eight hours.

Everything hurt right now and had done for days .  His stomach ached all the way down to the low cradle of his pelvis - nothing terrible, just another low grade annoyance.  It was right up there with the discharge in his underwear that he definitely hadn’t missed and had been kind of hoping wouldn’t make a reappearance.  Hooray.

Almost vengefully (definitely childishly), Lucifer scowled softly and poked at his stomach with a single sin-stained finger as if to warn his little girl that he wouldn’t tolerate tardiness.

A soft throat-clear yanked him out of his woolgathering and he blinked, frog-like, at the Radio Demon at his side.

The man was sat all Sunday prim on the couch next to him, back so straight it had to hurt from the crown of his scarlet head all the way to coccyx.  His legs were folded neatly one over the other with his hands laid flat over the topmost knee, his staff in the crook of his right arm.  He was peering at Lucifer out of the corner of his silly monocle and rather than feel annoyed at being perceived at his most ridiculous, the King was curious.

He whispered, “...What?”

“Are you paying attention?” The man hummed, one eyebrow lofted as he ever so gently inclined his chin towards where Charlie was stationed at the front of the room with a rolling chalkboard.

Oh.

Right.

Oops.

Huffing a little, Lucifer slumped down into his seat and flexed his cloven hooves, watching as the ‘toes’ spread out before he relaxed them again, “Sorry.  Pregnancy brain is a doozy.”

He tried to pull himself into the room, grateful that he (and by extension Alastor) had chosen a couch nearer to the back of the room so it wasn’t immediately apparent to Charlie that he’d drifted off there for a second.  The King was aware that there were still eyes on him and he looked back at Alastor to find the Radio Demon shooting him a quizzical expression.

“ What ?” The little blonde sighed on a whisper.

“Pregnancy brain?” The taller man asked, dry as a desert.

“Oh.  That.  Yeah.  Pregnancy fog.  Momnesia.  Baby brain.  You know.”

He watched as Alastor opened his smiling mouth a fraction.

Closed it with a click.

At last he opened it again after a deep breath through his nose to say, “Lucifer, I can say with all honesty that, no, I do not know.”

Still taking care to keep his voice low while Charlie stood in front of her assembled Sinners laying out some new plan that he really, honestly did care about, Lucifer explained, “It’s a thing.  Baby is just flooding me with hormones right now and my brain’s been scrambling to catch up for months.  Memory issues, absentmindedness…all happened before with Charlie, too.  Totally normal.”

“Ah,” Alastor said succinctly and turned back to the discussion Charlie was trying to have, plucking imaginary lint from his trousers.

Silence stretched and Lucifer made a game attempt at focusing on what his daughter was saying.

Which, of course, was when the stag had to ruin it by smirking and murmuring, “...And what is your excuse the rest of the time, dear?”

Lucifer’s head whipped around to him like he was fucking possessed, red-on-gold eyes shooting wide while he processed what the Sinner said.  Alastor merely ignored him, looking straight ahead now with an enigmatic little smile on his face like he always fucking had.  This one had a teasing slant to it however, the cutting edge of his wit significantly dulled for the King’s benefit over these last few months, it seemed.

At last, the Fallen huffed a laugh and socked him lightly in the arm, “...You’re a dick, you know that?”

The King definitely tried very hard not to notice when Alastor’s smile ticked up with triumph the second Lucifer gave in to laughter.  That was way, way too complicated for him to apply any of his remaining brain power to right now.  The fact that he’d woken up out of so many almost-nightmares to the feeling of icy, nearly incorporeal hands on his cheeks and Alastor’s face over him was too complicated.  The fact that sometimes in the night when he went for a wander, the Radio Demon would be there just waiting for him with a convenient mug of tea was too complicated.

Lucifer stroked a hand over his belly and made himself focus as Charlie’s voice bled back into his consciousness with a cheerful, “...so I want everyone to pinpoint three things you really want to improve on while we start building our personalized Redemption Portfolios and bring them to my office by the end of the week, okay? I think having something tangible to focus on will help! Okayyyy…break!”

The devil squeaked.

It felt like something in him ‘popped’ the minute Charlie clapped her hands to adjourn the session and…oh dear.

Oh, of fucking course.

Pressing a hand to his brow, Lucifer threw his head back against the couch and howled with laughter at the utter ridiculousness of this situation.  He’d warned his daughter not to be tardy, but this was extreme.

“Dad? What’s going on?” He vaguely heard Charlie say from the front of the room.

Feeling the viscous gush of amniotic fluid thoroughly staining his pants and the couch under him, Lucifer wheezed through a cramp that he suddenly understood and kicked his hooves, “My water broke!”

The way Alastor’s smile tightened in shock was almost worth the contraction that rocked his small body after.

~*~

To say that the little King’s brazen declaration dragged the room into chaos was perhaps the greatest understatement Alastor could have ever imagined in his existence.

Charlie had let out a sound not unlike a kicked squeaky toy in dismay and immediately made a game attempt at descending into panic mode while he watched.  Honestly, Alastor was almost impressed at the speed with which she hit the proverbial ceiling.  She was moored only by her partner, who was immediately issuing orders based on a plan they had developed meticulously over the months.  Alastor pretended he didn’t see Husk passing a few bills to Angel from where they were seated at the bar.

With security the height of consideration, Lucifer, Alastor, and Charlie had worked in tandem over the remaining months of the pregnancy to shore up proper wards around the hotel.  There had been some deliberation at the start over whether or not the King would return to the palace for the birth, but Lucifer had (somewhat cagily) informed them that protections there weren’t necessarily in great repair.  He’d really done very little to see to them in the last few decades and with Adam sniffing around…

Alastor had, naturally, put his foot down on the matter at that knowledge.  Having Lucifer outside of safe territory in one of the most recognizable buildings in all of Hell and the hotel residents not present to defend their monarch? Absolutely out of the question.  Not willing to overplay his hand, however, the dealmaker had instead gone the logical route of pointing out that there was far better in-person support at the Hotel and building stronger wards here would certainly be less taxing than figuring out repairs over there .

He’d gotten his way, which was quite nice.

It had meant Lucifer had far less distance to traverse while in labor to reach his rooms.  Alastor had risen as Charlie dashed over to the couch to help her father up, making vague comments about how he would see to having the couch cleaned.  The Radio Demon had been surprised then when, as he made to pull away and leave the family to their moment, a bold hand caught his sleeve.  Instinct ruled him for a moment and he turned his head with a sickening crack to glare at the interloper…only to see it was the King holding him fast and looking up at him with pained yellow eyes.

He’d asked him to come, much to his shock.

What on earth had been going on in that blonde head of his?

Perhaps his silence had been misconstrued because Lucifer leaned in to ask in a faint, almost worried voice, “Please…I…you and Charlie are the ones who have been with me the most through this.  I want you with me…”

Alastor hadn’t known what to say to that.

What did one say to such a thing?

He felt his shadow tugging at his frame from where they were connected, filling his hindbrain with a litany of ‘protectprotectgoplease’ through their connection.  He felt his tail trying to flag from where it was hidden beneath his clothing.

So he had acquiesced.

Now, here he was, letting Lucifer Morningstar brace on his shoulder as they made a slow circuit of his quarters some hours later, the little man’s hand clutching at his belly when yet another contraction nearly knocked him off of his hooves.  He’d been changed out of his sweater and ruined trousers for a thin linen shift that was already stained with sweat.  Lucifer hissed through his fangs and Alastor gamely ignored the way blackened claws dug into his shoulder even though he was relatively sure he felt his collarbone creak under the force.

The man was half-crippled by active labour and still possessed the kind of strength that could easily rip the Radio Demon’s arm from his socket without a thought.  Alastor had been foolish indeed to square up to him in those early days.  It had satisfied his pride, of course, but he realized he only existed still because wanton smiting wasn’t exactly Lucifer’s preferred pastime.

Alastor watched as a bit of smoke curled from Lucifer’s lips and he hummed low so as not to set Charlie off (who had been wrangled into a chair by both Vaggie and the healer), “...Is it time?”

Lucifer’s voice was hoarse to the Sinner’s ears as he whispered back, “Would you judge me if I didn’t want it to be?”

“You were excited,” the Radio Demon said, raising an eyebrow.

Another contraction.  Another squeeze to Alastor’s shoulder girdle that was sure to bruise.  He allowed it.

“I was.  Am.  I just…” Lucifer let out a high pitched whine and pinched his eyes shut, “Once she’s out…I can’t protect her anymore…”

Alastor hummed, leading him back over to the bed as he became aware that Lucifer’s ankles weren’t going to hold him up through another cramp like that, “No, you can't,  not entirely.  Not as you have been.”

He felt the king tense and continued, “Which is why you are quite lucky you’ve quite a few people here dedicated to helping you do so.  You will only harm yourself and her by delaying the inevitable, Lucifer.  If it’s time, it’s time.  Time to face the music, dear!”

Alastor trilled the last part, smirking like the demon he was and gratified when the little wrinkle of concern bisecting Lucifer’s porcelain brow smoothed.

“...Dick,” Lucifer hissed, face pained but eyes bright and just the faintest curve of a smile on his lips.

Good.

That settled, the Radio Demon gestured to the nurse they’d finally gotten over from Sloth while making sure that Lucifer was getting as comfortable as he could on the bed, “His pain is more frequent.  Perhaps you should -.”

“Oh!” The Baphomet cut him off, entirely oblivious to the offended radio squeal that elicited, it seemed, “Yup yup.  Don’t you worry, we’ll check his Majesty out.”

The creature moved past him and seemed content to ignore him entirely, focusing in on Lucifer and asking a series of questions about how close together his contractions were and how bad the pain was.  After receiving a few answers she made a long, (quite irritating in Alastor’s opinion) noise of consideration before asking the king to lie back so she could get a look.  The Radio Demon had been watching like a hawk up to this point, but rapidly turned his gaze away as Lucifer settled on his back and the Baphomet moved to raise his shift.

It was only the work of a moment before she made a (less irritating) decisive noise and declared, “Yup! Looks like we’re all ready! Little one’s all raring to go!”

Relieved, Alastor turned his head back in time to see another look of worry cross Lucifer’s face, “Are you sure…? It’s so much fa-AH…fuck…faster…than with Charlie…”

The Baphomet made a tutting sound at the king that Alastor found he didn’t care for and said, “Second and third births can progress much more quickly!  You’ve already been in labour for a few hours, Your Majesty, and the baby is telling us they’re ready to come out.  All totally normal! Don’t you worry, it’s all going to be just fine! You’ve even got daddy here with you.”

Ears and tail flagging in surprise, the Radio Demon’s carmine gaze shot down to lock with Lucifer’s stunned yellow.  They just stared at one another and Alastor, flummoxed, had utterly no clue what to even say to that .

Charlie rescued him by trying to say, “Oh, he’s not…”

But the nurse was charging on and gently guiding the king onto his side, “Now, normally I’d advise upright for this, but your hooves are having some trouble supporting the weight with the swelling.  How comfortable are you in a lateral position? We can try knees if this doesn’t feel right.”

Alastor’s ears flickered atop his head as he watched the nurse lay the monarch out on his side to find a suitable birthing position now that the show was finally ready to begin.  The little king quietly shifted his hips and closed his eyes before nodding, satisfied.  The Sinner didn’t anticipate the Baphomet turning to him next while she seized a pillow to press between Lucifer’s knees, clicking her fingers once and then pointing to his abandoned chair.

“C’mon you! Sit and take his hands! He’s going to need something to hang on to once we’re really in the thick of it.”

“Madame, I really think you’ve got the wrong of it -” Alastor protested as politely as he could manage between the hard clutch of his fangs.

The Baphomet didn’t even have a chance to reprimand him before he was aware of Lucifer’s voice, hoarse and soft, saying, “...C’mon, Al.  It’s either you or Charlie and I’d rather break your mitts than hers.  Come sit.”

It was worded as an insult, but as Alastor’s sensitive ears flicked he could parse a more subtle tone beneath the sharp verbiage.  It was an invitation…a welcome.

Sighing, Alastor walked the few steps to his chair and sat, extending his long-fingered hands and trying not to acknowledge the bone-deep, comforting heat when Lucifer’s fingers tangled up against his gloves.  Even through the muffled covering of leather, Alastor felt the gentle squeeze there and braced to let Lucifer feel that he was ready for whatever he could dish out.

He had no plans to move.

~*~

Charlie had never in two-hundred years imagined that childbirth was so…so violent .

Oh, she knew it wasn’t easy , but she hadn’t imagined quite so much screaming when she’d pictured in her head the way this was all going to go.

In her mind, it was going to be long and difficult, but she was going to be there with her dad and…and…and then her imagination just sort of skipped from A all the way down to Z when Lucifer was holding her new little sister and she was so perfect and cute that Charlie couldn’t stand it.  She’d just sort of forgotten to imagine all of the messy bits in between, but oh boy were there messy bits.

She also wasn’t the one supporting her dad while he laboured.

No.  That was, quite unexpectedly, Alastor.

In between cringing over her father’s shouting and swearing (with more than a little bit of cursing God), Charlie watched the two of them…her hotelier and her dad.

She’d always known Alastor as a polite sort of monster, but a distant one.  Oh, he was perfectly poised and pleasant at all times…so pleasant in fact that it could be pretty easy to forget that he was, in fact, an eldritch cannibal abomination.  But it was a frigid sort of pleasantry he exhibited, more like a museum piece you were only meant to see from a distance.  He didn’t allow touch as a general rule and he certainly had no patience for filth or the suffering of others.

But…but there he was, refusing to release her dad’s hands even though Charlie could see the way his gloved digits threatened to give with every squeeze.

There he was, watching her father’s face without blinking during every push.

There he was, making pointed, needling remarks between them just to try and make her dad laugh through his exhaustion…keeping him awake and aware and relaxed.  

Charlie didn’t quite know when their nasty back-and-forth had lost its killing edge and become this sort of easy banter, but it…it made her feel good .  She wasn’t even upset that she wasn’t the one holding her dad’s hands while he worked to bring her little sister into the world.  How could she be when Alastor was perfectly on his toes with it all, stoically saying not a word about the pain he was surely in (Charlie was pretty sure she heard one of his fingers break) while keeping her dad calm?

She watched as Alastor gently extricated one of his hands from her father’s clutches to push sweat-soaked golden hair from his brow and from his preoccupied expression, Charlie wasn’t sure he’d even realized he’d done it.  She watched as her father turned into the touch, seeking the comfort Alastor’s absent-minded gesture offered.  The Princess thought, just for a moment, that maybe it would be a kinder reality if her hotelier really was her baby sister’s dad and not…

Charlie shook her head to clear it as the chirpy Baphomet nurse announced from where she was supporting her dad’s topmost knee to ensure the baby had room and keeping a close eye on the proceedings, “Oh! We’ve got a little head here, Your Majesty.  One or two more big pushes and you’ll be all done!”

Her hands clenched in a mixture of excitement and apprehension, only for Vaggie’s rougher palm to settle over her fists, “It’s all going to be great, Charlie.  Just breathe.”

She sounded a little tense herself, so Charlie didn’t feel too silly about how wound up she was.

The Princess just smiled softly at her girlfriend and returned the affectionate touch.

~*~

On the bed, Lucifer grunted at the immense pressure threatening to rend his nethers, knowing he was so close to the finish line and torn between the elation and dread of it.

 This was nothing like his nightmare.

He could hear Charlie and Vaggie talking quietly behind him.

He had the nurse coaching him and supporting him.

He had Alastor holding his hands tight and bantering at him whenever they both had time to breathe.

The room was airy and brightly lit…didn’t smell great, sure, but it wasn’t the dark and lonely void of his nightmare where he lay unprotected while Adam thieved his baby away from him.

It fucking hurt , but it wasn’t the soul-rending agony the dream had tried to convince him that he was feeling.

Lucifer breathed in deep and when the next impulse to push washed over him, pure instinct, he bore down with a shout and flexed every muscle he possibly could.  He felt Alastor’s gloved hands tighten in his own in encouragement and he clung to that…to the stability they offered him when it felt like the pressure was finally going to split him.  He held desperately to the friendly hand he hadn’t expected all those months ago when, quite suddenly, the pressure ended and it was all over in a rush while the nurse between his legs let out a triumphant sound.

And then…a shrill, angry cry that was more beautiful than an angelic chorus.

High on the endorphins his body had pumped through him, the little Fallen slumped to the mattress, laughing weakly at the sound.  He finally let the Radio Demon’s hands go and felt the other man gently swiping sweat from his brow with something soft…linen? A handkerchief maybe? Of course the poncy fuck would have a handkerchief Lucifer thought to himself fondly as more hands helped arrange him on his back…Charlie?

He smiled up at his daughter, still a little blissed out on a pain-high, but didn’t have time to speak before a swaddled, squalling, red-faced little stranger was gently distributed into his arms while the nurse (unnecessarily) announced that it was a girl…a new Princess.

What could the King do but hold her close and watch as her eyes finally settled on him…the sclera a soft buttercup shade but the pupils red as hellfire.  They widened as they caught sight of him and her cries slowly died away, her little face un-scrunching long enough for him to make out rosy cherub cheeks just like his own and Charlie’s.  His girl was blessed with a round, chubby tummy that was going to be perfect for raspberries, the faintest wisps of light brown hair and peachy-pale skin that felt like the finest velvet when Lucifer caressed her cheek.

All the rest of the world fell away when he looked at her.

How had a monster like Adam given him this darling princess all his own?  

But then…Lucifer remembered a time when Adam had been very new and had not been so terrible as he was now.  He remembered a time when childlike ignorance to the world had been his greatest flaw before the Angels had trained arrogance and dominion into him.  Lucifer remembered the Adam of the early days in the Garden - a man long gone even before his Fall.  Maybe…just maybe…his little girl was all the good that remained of the First Man.  

Heart going soft at the very thought, the King stroked her little damp head and kissed her brow, listening as she sneezed fussily at him.

Precious.

His daughter’s voice broke through his mental meandering, “Dad? Do you…what do you want to call her?”

That was certainly a question, wasn’t it? 

Looking down at his daughter and still caught up in memories of more innocent times, Lucifer murmured, “...Eden.  I think…I think her name is Eden.”

~*~

It was far later in the evening after Vaggie had finally ushered Charlie off to bed so that Lucifer could recover from everything that the King felt real exhaustion begin to weigh him down.  Sure, he’d napped a little on and off while the nurse got things cleaned up and his daughter fussed happily over her new little sister, but he’d still been buoyed up by the adrenaline high of new motherhood.  Now his room was quiet and still, the lights dim, and ache had settled over his tired body like a heavy blanket.

And yet…he wasn’t alone.

Alastor remained perched proper as a lord at his bedside, idly thumbing through a book he’d probably summoned in during one of Lucifer’s earlier naps.  Baby Eden was sleeping in her bassinet at his knee right where Lucifer could easily see her and where the Radio Demon could keep watch.

Lucifer hadn’t expected him to still be here, frankly, but now that he was…the Fallen could admit it felt safe.  He felt safe.  He’d been chewing on the feeling since he’d woken up from a light doze over an hour ago to find the man still right where the chaos of the day had left him - chewing on a lot of things having to do with the Sinner, come to that.  The thoughts buzzed in his skull like busy bees until he finally couldn’t stay silent anymore.

Clearing his throat a bit, the blonde murmured from where he was reclined against a pillow, “...How are your hands?”

Scarlet eyes flicked briefly up to him, “Much improved, thank you.  You only managed to fracture the pinkie and ring of the right hand.  They healed within the hour.”

“Oh…good,” Lucifer said and continued to watch the other man.

The silence this time didn’t last very long.

“Al?” Lucifer ventured.

The Sinner hummed curiously from where he was reading, prompting the King to go on.

“Um…why are you still here?”

That earned him a raised eyebrow, “Do you not want me to be, sire?”

“No! I mean, yes! I…” the overly tired little monarch groaned and covered his face in embarrassment, “I just mean…I like you being here, but…if you have other things you need to do, you’ve wasted enough time catering to me.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alastor informed him, snapping his book closed as quietly as possible to avoid waking Eden.

Lucifer puffed out a breath, “Alastor…come on, I know you watched over me while I was sleeping all these months.  I know you’ve been stocking the kitchen just for me.  Today you even…ugh, you didn’t have to be here with me, but you were and I felt good having you to talk to through the worst of it.”

The Sinner gave him a pointed look, “You misunderstand.  I don’t know what you mean calling all of my efforts a ‘waste’.  I’m perfectly well aware of what I’ve done and don’t need reminding.”

That was a lot to fucking digest when he was still suffering from baby brain.

The Fallen swallowed and rolled onto his side with a soft hiss so he could look directly at the demon, “...Alastor? Are we…close?”

“If you like,” the Sinner said frankly, pinning the King under a brilliant carmine stare.

Lucifer wasn’t sure what to make of the feeling in his chest at those words and Eden saved him, waking up with a whine and a huff.  Grunting, the little blonde pushed himself up fully against the pillows and held his arms out, “Could you hand me Eden, please? She might be hungry.”

Dutifully, the Radio Demon rose from his spot with all the elegance of a wild deer and carefully extricated the baby from her cot, offering her to her mother.  Lucifer marveled when the sight didn’t terrify him like it had in his nightmare when Adam had been the one reaching for her.  He didn’t think much at all about it, he realized.  It just looked…natural to him.  Seeing Alastor handle his daughter just looked right.

Settling Eden against him, Lucifer allowed her to nurse, wincing when she latched, “Oof.  Okay.  Big eater, then.  Well, you go on, sweetheart…”

Noting that Alastor had politely averted his eyes, Lucifer tried to break the moment with humor, “Heh…pretty funny today that the nurse thought you were her father.”

Alastor’s ears flicked atop his head.

“Yes, hilarious Lucifer, dear.”

“Eyes kind of remind me of yours, to be fair.  That red,” the Devil babbled, petting Eden’s back in long strokes while she ate.

“You should take care with your words, Lucifer, else I might begin to demand parental rights.  Don’t let it get too far or we’ll be bickering about what school is best for her in no time at all,” the stag Sinner did his level best to sound smarmy about it.

Lucifer blinked at his words and swallowed, replying, “Arguing over bedtime…”

“Of course we’ll surely come to blows over what type of music she’ll be permitted to listen to!” Alastor said theatrically.

“Or how many sweets she’s allowed to have at dinner,” the King shot back, but his voice lacked a certain edge and he could hear it.

He was watching Alastor and was very aware when the dealmaker turned to watch him as well, eyes testing…searching as he jibed, “Surely if we let this go too far, we’ll be fighting tooth and nail over the clothing she’ll be wearing.”

“Yeah…if we let this get too far, I’d have to listen to you complain about the silly toys I’m going to make for her,” it sounded less like a game to Lucifer’s ears now and more like a series of questions posed as statements.

“Hmm, and I’m quite positive I’d have to listen to you fuss about letting her have my poppets for playmates…if this all goes too far, of course.”

“Of course…” Lucifer whispered as Eden finally seemed to get her fill and dozed off against him, lazing against her mother’s heat until she needed to be burped at least, “Hey…Alastor?”

“Yes?” The other man said, trying to sound detached and arrogant Lucifer was sure.

Biting his lower lip, the King took the first step out onto the rickety bridge they’d been slowly but surely building towards one another, “...Do you…how would you feel if this did go too far, hypothetically?”

The stag’s fathomless carmine eyes drifted from his face to the top of little Eden’s head, “Hypothetically, I would say I prefer to be called papa and I insist on a strict eight o’clock bedtime until she is at least six years old.  And you?”

Feeling breathless and nervous, Lucifer cuddled his new daughter close while never breaking eye contact, “Hypothetically, I insist on at least one bedtime story every night and she sleeps in the bed whenever she has a nightmare, no questions asked.”

“Hypothetically, I could be amenable to that provided she not be laden down with sugar every single time she has a bad day,” Alastor countered, “And if occasionally a bedtime story could be substituted with a lullaby.”

Lucifer surprised himself with a short giggle that quickly fell into contemplative silence.

“Al…hypotheticals aside, I’m a mess.  This is going to be messy.  I’m going to be scared and Father I already know I’m going to be depressed sometimes.  The post-partum was rough with Charlie.  This isn’t going to be primroses,” Lucifer finally whispered, letting the game go in the face of this massive step they were dancing around.

He startled when a gloved hand swiped hair away from his brow, not expecting the touch, “Cards on the table then.  My interest in intimacy is limited and I will not put aside my status as Overlord…I will not dull my fangs.  I am precisely what I am, Lucifer.  I am not afraid of cleaning up a bit of mess, but I am uninterested in having to hide my nature.”

Nodding in understanding, Lucifer responded, “...I haven’t hated your nature these last nine months.  And ah…I think…I think I’m done with sex for a long, long time, so…yeah.  I can work with that.”

“I am unsure about cohabitation, at least to start,” Alastor said next, though not unkindly.

“Y’know…I don’t hate having your shadow around,” Lucifer granted, “So that would be fine for me until you’re ready to try this whole…living together thing.  I’d like to do it eventually for Eden’s sake, but…I won’t push you.  I want to do this right.”

“You are sure that this is something you wish to pursue, Lucifer?” The Radio Demon inquired with all the aplomb of a man drawing the dotted line upon which a signature would rest at the completion of this unspoken deal.

The Devil really thought about it and was surprised when it didn’t take that much time at all, “...I think I’d much rather have a man who cares whether or not I have nightmares helping raise my daughter than the man who gave them to me.  I know this won’t be easy.  I know we’re going to argue sometimes.  We’re old, Al, and stuck in our ways, but most of the time these days, I like the way you are and I think…you’ve been good to Charlie.  I think you’ll be good to Eden too.  Promise me you can do that and…yes.  Yes, I want to see where this leads.”

Signed.  Sealed.  Delivered.

Lucifer watched as the demon’s ever-present smile softened a touch at the edges, “In that case, my dear, may I?”

Letting out a deep breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, the Devil resituated with the intention of placing his infant daughter into the demon’s capable hands…only to find himself surprised once again.  Instead of reaching for their girl, the Sinner leaned forward to press his lips against Lucifer’s softly, gentle and unhurried.  He felt cool against the King’s mouth, like a balm to the feverish heat that always coursed through him.  It was the closest to tenderness he could recall in many, many years and he reflexively tilted his head to slot them perfectly together.  Adam had barely ever tried to kiss him and on the few times he deigned to, it was never like this.

It never felt kind like this.

After a moment, they parted and only then did Alastor gently take Eden from him, cradling the baby girl up to his chest.  

Once she was settled, Alastor crooned, “Get some rest , Lucifer.  We’ll be here when you wake.”

Watching the man holding his newborn Princess like a guardian against all of Hell, Lucifer found that sleep wasn’t so difficult.

~*~

One Year Later

Coming into the sweet little nursery Alastor had helped to build in those early months was perhaps Charlie’s favourite part of the day.  She loved this room.  It was a perfect union of both Alastor’s old-fashioned sensibilities and her father’s uninhibited whimsy.  The walls were painted a soothing pale blue and all around the baseboards marched a parade of happy little ducks, each one holding a different instrument as they cavorted along.  It was like a breath of fresh air every time Charlie came in.

The furniture was old wood, beautifully varnished to a warm sheen, sturdy and meant to stand the test of time.  A low bookshelf laden with a baby’s board-books took up the far wall, the cathedral radio Alastor had provided playing soft lullabies from atop it.  It was a retreat designed by the Radio Demon’s hands with her father in mind and Charlie guessed it should have been a clue all along that there was something more going on there.  There was no other reason for the beautifully illustrated duck marching band, the soft colours, or even the little duck mobile that had come with the beautiful antique crib except that Alastor had legitimately wanted to please her father.

Charlie chuckled to herself.  It had worked, she guessed, considering the romance that continued to blossom between them, unfurling new petals each day.  Heck, they’d officially moved in together six or seven months back and Charlie couldn’t be prouder of them both, or more pleased for them.

As she opened the door to Eden’s personal haven, a happy squeal greeted her.

In the crib, Eden had pulled herself up on the top bar and was bouncing excitedly on chubby little legs at the sight of her big sister.  Some days she woke up from her afternoon nap early and was just there, waiting for her sister to come and see her, big yellow-and-red eyes gleaming with unbridled delight. Her ever-thickening golden-brown hair was a messy cloud around her head, still ruffled from sleep.  She was so cute, Charlie could just eat her up.

“Iiiiiit’s big sister time!” The princess declared brightly as she walked in, lifting Eden from her crib and tucking her close in a hug while the toddler pressed messy kisses to her rosy doll cheeks, “Did you have a good nap today?”

“Yes!” Eden declared and wrapped her arms around Charlie’s neck to cuddle close.

She’d started talking a month or so ago, well ahead of a normal development benchmark for most kids her age.  Alastor had been smugly proud of that fact - particularly because her first word had been ‘papa’.  Charlie politely never mentioned how cute he’d been for days after that, practically swaggering from room to room (more than he already did, anyway).

“That’s great!” Charlie declared, swinging them both in a little circle just to hear her baby sister’s brazen, brassy laugh.  She wasn’t disappointed.

“What do you want to do today, Edie?” She asked as they both caught their breath.

“Wanna dance!” The girl declared, grinning wide with a snaggle-toothed smile of baby fangs, wiggling in her big sister’s arms .

“That sounds like a great idea! But y’know…” Charlie hedged playfully, putting a finger to her chin in thought, “This music’s a little too slow to dance to.  Want to ask papa to put on something else?”

Eden’s sunny expression grew even wider if such a thing were possible as she declared, “Radio!”

“That’s right, radio,” her sister agreed, walking them both over to the lovely piece where it sat in its place of honor on the bookshelf.

Reaching out with one long-fingered hand, the princess carefully tuned the dial to a frequency only accessible between radios within the hotel’s wards, listening carefully through the static.  Once she knew she had it right, she leaned forward so she and Eden could easily speak into it.

“Alastor?”

There was a moment of fuzz before the Radio Demon’s voice came pouring through, bright and chipper, “Why, yes Charlie dear.  What can I do for you?”

“Music, papa!” Eden declared cheerfully and Charlie smiled at her.

When Alastor’s voice came through again, it was sly, “Why, Charlie, you sound so different! Are you coming down with a cold?”

The princess had to actively hold back a laugh when Eden’s cheeks puffed up and she grumped, “Eden, papa!”

“Oh! Well that explains that, doesn’t it? Well, if my little princess requests music, what more can I do? Music you shall have, my dear,” the Sinner’s voice teased from wherever he was in the hotel on the other end, “One moment!”

There was a pause…a soft click…and then something jazzy came through the speakers at a volume just perfect for dancing.  The laugh Charlie had been biting down spilled out of her when her little sister cheered and squirmed to be let down.  Obligingly, the elder princess carefully set Eden not on the floor, but on the tops of her shoes, taking her hands so they could have a little dance party for no other reason than because it pleased them.

She cherished these private moments with her baby sister.

It was hard to imagine sometimes when Charlie looked into those wide, excited eyes and that great big smile of hers that she had come from something truly awful.  A ruined man had done something horrendous to their father for far too long and in the end had given them Eden with her huge personality and loving nature.  Charlie knew the horror of it had never fully left her father…sometimes heard him panicking at night through the door of his room until the hushing buzz of soothing radio static calmed him once again. 

But even knowing all of that, Charlie had a rule: She never looked for Adam in Eden.

Never.

Eden didn’t deserve the comparison and Adam didn’t deserve any hold over their family for even a single second longer, not after all the time he’d stolen from their father.  Sweet little Edie was her own person, Alastor was her papa, and Charlie would move Heaven and Earth to keep it that way.

Charlie shook her head to clear those big thoughts away, picking Eden up to swing her in a circle just to hear her shriek in joy and cry out “Again!”

~*~

Sitting at his desk, Alastor let out a quiet hum as the sound of Charlie and Eden’s merriment filled his office, mingling pleasantly with the smell of coffee steaming away from his favourite “Oh Deer!” mug.  

For just a moment he let himself forget the paperwork waiting on the roll-top, placed his elbows down, and rested his pointed chin atop the backs of his interlaced fingers.  His ears turned towards the radio, soaking up the sounds of music and laughter.  Ignoring waiting missives from the Overlord Council, the Radio Demon soaked up this moment of peace listening to Eden simply exist in her own little uncomplicated reality.

His daughter.

Yes, his .

Over the past year, it was Alastor who had been there to sing her lullabies at night to help her go to sleep when her mother was too spent to read to her.  

It was Alastor who had stayed up all night with her when she fussed.

It was Alastor who changed diapers, looked after scraped knees, and tended to bumped foreheads.

It was Alastor who looked after her mother…who indulged his soaring highs and watched over him in his lowest lows (and oh, there were lows).

It was Alastor that she called ‘papa’.

Not Adam.

These moments belonged to him and him alone.

The smell of tea cut through his musings, as did the gentle press of lips against the back of his head just below where his ears stood tall and attentive.

Well.

Perhaps not only to him.

Behind him, Lucifer spoke quietly enough that Charlie and Eden wouldn’t be able to hear them through the radio frequency, “Sounds like a fun party.”

Alastor turned his head only far enough to see where Lucifer stood, relaxed in a pair of loose sweatpants rolled up to the knee and a candy apple red cowl neck that draped around his slim shoulders rather artfully if the Radio Demon said so himself.  He had an apple shaped mug in one sin-stained claw, the handle made of a stupidly smiling cartoon worm that Alastor tried very hard not to find charming.  There were no dark circles beneath his eyes today and his hair was tidy, golden eyes bright.

“Indeed, dear.  One almost feels left out,” the Radio Demon hummed back at his partner, discreetly taking in the scent of apples, char, and black tea that wreathed the little monarch.

He looked up in time to see the King’s face split in a piranha-toothed smile, “Wanna go crash it?”

No, Adam would never know how fiercely engaging Lucifer could be when he smiled like that, manic and so full of mischievous joy.  That too was Alastor’s, the Sinner thought to himself possessively.

Alastor considered the paperwork on his desk briefly, then turned his attention back to that rare, genuine smile.  

The decision wasn’t hard to make.

Taking a final sip of his coffee, the stag rose and turned to place a kiss on Lucifer’s forehead, “Let’s take the scenic route.  There’s something to be said for being fashionably late, after all.  Come along…we’ve a dance party to attend.”