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The first feather he found laid forgotten at the foot of one of the arm chairs in the library, calling out to him with a low buzzing frequency. The second he found stuck to the balcony floor while acid rain trickled down onto it. Even at the risk of burning his own hands Alastor had found himself crouching down and pick it up just to tuck it into the safety of his coat, flicking his cigarette bud away before returning back to the comforts of the hallway that would lead to his own chambers where both feathers were laid down on his bedside table with a care almost unbecoming of the radio demon.
The third feather he found the day after came to him on his way to the bar in a flash of white and red barely registered at his feet before he could turn the corner. The smile on his lips almost visibly softened as his shadow shot up from the carpet, the feather presented to him in an inky black outstretched claw. He took it without a moment of hesitation, lifting it up just to see the weak, red light coming through the large windows filtering through its dishevelled state.
Curious, very curious.
Almost lost in that very thought, Alastor's feet lead him to his destination, a greeting coming in the form of a low grumble coming from the winged cat standing behind the bar.
“The usual?”
“I do not see why you still feel the need to ask, Husker,” Alastor answered while his head slowly tilted, yet with his gaze still lingering on the large feather resting in his hand.
“Just making sure.” It would not be the first time Alastor had lashed out for being presented with a drink that wasn’t exactly to his liking. However, as Husk uncorked a bottle of whiskey - one brought in by the radio demon himself with his very name practically glowing on the label - something relaxed in his posture. Or well, what could pass for relaxed when it came to the former overlord in Alastor’s presence.
Once more Alastor lifted the feather up to the light, this time allowing the bright colours of the signage surrounding the bar to trickle through the mostly cracked barbs. He hardly registered Husk placing down the glass next to him, only looking up when the cat’s stare became a little too obnoxious.
“Can I help you with something, good man?”
With a brisk shake of his head, Husk pushed himself away from the bar. “Merely curious. We don’t exactly get to see the king’s wings often, you know.” His words came with a little ruff of his own feathers, his wings practically dragged across the floor behind him.
“And you would be wise to keep that kind of curiosity to yourself, don’t you think?” Eyes narrowed while the barman tried to swallow his own pride, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“That our dear king is… leaving behind a little trail is of no one’s concern, I’d say,” Alastor continued with a sharp grin, claws curling around his glass to drain its contents in one gulp. Almost if it was sorely needed.
“Can I just say one thing?”
“Pick your words wisely, old friend,” Alastor hummed, his gaze once again darting from the glass in his hand back to the feather as he dragged his tongue past his lips to allow the burn of his drink to linger just a little longer.
“While… your majesty might be able to help himself, surely, there could also be certain places he won’t be able to reach by himself, speaking from experience,” Husk coughed softly. “The feathers, that is. Can’t say for sure, don’t know how angels work, but seeing plenty of us have been cursed with these damn things.” Another rustle of his own wings in demonstration. “and unless he likes to conjure up some clones to do the dirty work for him, some assistance is often… welcoming.”
The knowing look in Alastor’s gaze was ignored by Husk who had quickly busied his hands making sure that some of the bottles behind him were polished despite there not being a speck of dust to be located on them. Niffty had made sure of that.
“Well, good man, if you will excuse me then, I believe my service is needed elsewhere.” And with no further parting words spoken, Alastor allowed his shadows to welcome him into their realm, relocating him right in front of Lucifer’s chambers on their shared floor. Husk took a deep breath, thankful for the sudden loss of tension in the air around him.
Three knocks on the fallen angel’s door was all it took for a grumble to sound from the other side.
“You better have brought me some tea, or preferably something stronger-” The door opened, and all Alastor could do was blink once - perhaps twice - in surprise when he was met with the sight of the king wearing only a short pair of pyjama pants, black claws reaching over his shoulder to scratch at his pale skin almost absentmindedly.
“I failed to bring anything, but that can easily be remedied,” the demon offered with a sly grin. His mask fell back in place so easily even with Lucifer’s eyebrow raised, a telltale sign he could see right through him and had taken notice of his earlier surprise. Alastor lifted his hand, the same whiskey bottle from earlier materialising within it with the mere goal to distract his king. He pushed past him, one snap of his fingers enough for the door to fall shut behind him.
“Oi, did I invite you in?” Folding his arms in front of his chest Lucifer tapped one of his hooves against the hardwood floor.
“Did you not?” Looking over his shoulder, Alastor could only feel his grin widen at the dishevelled look Lucifer was sporting. “I believe those stray feathers were a silent cry for help, mon cher.”
“Wha- oh .” A silent chuckle. Lucifer held out one of his hands, the feather Alastor had tucked into his coat appearing into it before raising his shoulders in a small shrug. “I’ve been trying not to, but can you ever truly stop it?”
Alastor’s eyes narrowed for a split second, his free hand reaching up to where the feather had just disappeared from one of his inner pockets. Lucifer merely feigned an innocent smile, yet the - albeit tired - spark in his eyes spoke volumes.
He was wanted here, that silent confirmation was enough for Alastor to appear behind the king in the mere blink of an eye, startling Lucifer as he took his free hand in his own, lifting it up to his mouth to place a featherflight kiss against it.
“You could just have called for me?”
“And what is the fun in that?” Lucifer asked him with a daring undertone in his voice.
“I would not know, dear, but by the looks of it, the longer you postpone it, the more uncomfortable it gets.”
“That,” Lucifer huffed, knowing Alastor had a point there. “Is true.” Taking a step aside he allowed for his wings to push from the six slits in his back, wincing slightly. Almost immediately Alastor could spot a few bent feathers, the parts that had been preened by Lucifer’s own hands, and the parts yet untouched, the skin in between looking sore.
Alastor tutted, “that just won’t do, sire.”
“Oh don’t tell me you are an expert all of a sudden.”
“That I am not,” Alastor said, reaching out to ghost one of his clawed fingers over the more sore looking parts. Lucifer’s body instinctively tried to shy away from the touch. “But I can see when something looks uncomfortable, cher, so why not let me help?”
There was an answer to that question lingering on Lucifer’s lips when he looked up at Alastor, but the rare, caring look in the other’s eyes made him swallow those words. He hadn’t wanted to be a bother, to feel like an inconvenience.
Lucifer hated asking for help, not that that came as much of a surprise to the radio demon. It had been a subject of discussion plenty of times before and while Lucifer had promised he would work on it, he wasn’t the sin of pride for no reason. Swallowing said pride even in front of his lover - Lucifer refused to call him differently nowadays, sometimes to Alastor’s annoyance - was still a lot more difficult than he liked to admit.
He always jokingly called himself a lost cause, only for the response to that to come in the form of an unamused glare, making him shut up rather quickly.
“Thought so,” Alastor hummed, somewhat pleased with Lucifer’s silence as he guided him to the ensuite bathroom, a few of his shadow puppets already darting around, filling the large bath with a concoction that made Alastor wrinkle his nose in disapproval. At least the little angel on his arm seemed rather pleased with it all.
“Oh this feels nice,” said Lucifer, a moan so close to concluding that statement as he lowered himself into the warm water after unceremoniously stepping out of his pyjama pants and almost stumbling over them.
His smile relaxing, Alastor sat himself down on the edge of the bath. His coat hung folded over one of the nearby chairs, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, revealing where his own skin changed colour in a subtle gradient, a short layer of fur covering his arms.
Lucifer’s gaze lingered without even realising.
“Like what you see, mon cher?” Alastor laughed softly, snapping his fingers just to see Lucifer quickly look away, a golden hue spreading across his already rosy cheeks.
“Yeah, yeah, asshole. Do you even know what to do now?”
Alastor tilted his head, almost making it look as if he was pondering that question.
“Nope.”
The bubbly laugh that Lucifer choked out in reply actually made Alastor’s always present grin widen in amusement.
“Well, okay, the bath is a good first step,” Lucifer continued, the laughter still audible in his voice. “Just… try to focus most of your attention on the coverts closests to my back, especially the lesser coverts are most difficult for me to reach like this. I know some of the skin underneath might look inflamed right now, but it’s worse than it looks, I promise. Just gently pull out any of the loose feathers and when I’m dry you can coat the others with some oil and carefully position them correctly again, if that makes sense?”
Alastor’s gaze trailed over the wings on the devil’s back, a soft hum leaving him. Stunning, it was but one of the many words he would describe them with, even in their current dishevelled state. Lowering his hands into the water he washed them thoroughly before cupping some of it, sprinkling it over the feathers to soften them a little. His shadow placed a wide bowl on the edge of the bath when Alastor plucked the first feather from Lucifer’s lower wings, a soft whine escaping the fallen angel.
“Did that hurt?”
Lucifer shook his head slowly, cupping some water over his shoulder to warm his skin with. “No, but it is a little sensitive. Don’t stop though.” So Alastor didn’t, minutes easily turning into an hour, maybe two till the bowl was halfway filled and Lucifer let out a yawn, not bothering to reheat the water for the umpteenth time.
“I think we are done with this part.” Something akin to pride snaked through Alastor’s words as he pushed himself up, one hand behind his back while he reached for Lucifer with the other, bending forward slightly as the little angel let himself be pulled up from the water. Out of nowhere a fluffy towel wrapped around him, his wings almost covering his entire body in the process.
A loud yelp left him as Alastor picked him up in his arms, but refrained from protesting as the deer demon carried him back into his bedroom.
“A little gift for me to unwrap,” he teased as he dropped Lucifer onto his bed whose laugh was muffled by the bundle of sheets beneath him.
“Feeling more like a winged burrito,” said Lucifer as he snapped the towel away, spreading out his wings across the bed as he pushed himself back up.
“One I would not mind sinking my teeth into,” Alastor responded with a teasing hum, making himself comfortable in the makeshift nest behind the king. Lucifer smacked his clothed leg.
“Behave.”
Alastor just let out a deep, rumbling laugh, briefly burying his nose into Lucifer’s still damp, messy hair, letting that smell of caramelised apples wash over him. The only sickening sweet thing he would ever indulge in.
Lucifer reached one hand behind him, curling those blackened fingers into Alastor’s hair. He could feel a ghost of a kiss pressed against the back of his head in response, a sleepy smile tugging on the ends of his mouth. In his free hand a small vial with oil appeared, plucked from his fingers by Alastor without him even looking up.
Minutes passed before the demon pushed back, visibly relaxed in a way only a very few were privy to. Pouring some of the oil over his hands he gently rubbed his clawed fingers between the feathers close to Lucifer’s skin, making sure to coat whatever he could reach to the soft jazzy tune played by the radio on the devil’s nightstand.
Slowly but surely Lucifer’s shoulders sagged, a blissful smile remaining present on his features. Alastor did not need to look to know his petite ange’s eyes had drooped shut, listening to his breathing slow down as the minutes passed. Pulling his hands back the softest whine of protest was pushed past Lucifer’s lips. And yet, wings curled around him like a blanket as he slumped back against Alastor who, after snapping his hands clean, gently wrapped his arms around him. Even he allowed a wave of exhaustion to wash over him, his chin coming to rest on top of his angel’s head.
“Rest, mon amour. I will be here when you wake up again.”