Archive of Our Own

Lucifer sits upright in his chair in the staff room. It’s late, and he wants to yawn, but he doesn’t want Charlie to take it the wrong way.

The Hotel’s usuals are trickling into the room a couple of hours after dinner, following the receipt of a text from his daughter. She’s had a brainwave about redemption - if they agree, she’ll need to work late and re-arrange things early in the morning, to offer new and improved programmes for the guests.

“...I really think this is it, you guys,” she explains, pacing in front of the cork board on which various notes, drawings and print-outs are pinned and joined up with red string.

She fires off explanation after explanation about how everything is connected. Lucifer nods along, but he is distracted by the people still arriving and hastily leaping into a spare seat.

“So you see!” Charlie’s tone goes up several pitches. So much range. Just like her mother. “No one was as devoted to the rest of us as Sir Pentious was, so when Vaggie told me what Carmilla had said before the battle, it all clicked! It’s been right in front of our faces this entire time - it’s about love, doing good for others from a place of real care and affection!”

Silence. Vacant blinking. They’d been trying to understand what made Sir Pentious succeed for some time now, you’d really expect some stronger reactions… Unless this was not what anyone was hoping to hear. Just as Lucifer clears his throat to say something, anything, to avoid leaving Charlie to face blank stares, shadows pull together behind the sofa.

Alastor appears – dead last, and very much after Charlie is obviously done with her spiel.

She rushes over to him at once with a gasp. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Alastor! I totally meant to call you down for this too, but heh, I don’t seem to have your number… Uhm, funny thing, I’m not sure whether you even have a phone…?”

Alastor hums in dismissal, which neither confirms nor denies his phone-having status. “Well, dearie, that is precisely why we gather over dinner every evening. It’s the perfect opportunity to check in on each other’s schedules so this sort of thing doesn’t happen.” His sarcastic tone makes Lucifer see red, and two pats to the top of Charlie’s head almost make him leap out of his seat. Alastor leans in close to Charlie, like he’s conspiring with her and continues, “Clear communication between us is what’s best for the management of the Hotel.”

“Cut it out, Alastor,” Lucifer bites out when he can’t stand it any longer, “you’re just embarrassed you showed up late to a staff meeting. We get it, it happens sometimes. Just apologise now and get over it.”

“I happen to hold myself to higher standards! But fear not, your Majesty, I am aware that not everyone in this room prides themselves on their punctuality.”

Alastor can never let his late appearance in the battle against Heaven slide. Lucifer has nothing to reply that they have not already been over. Well. Not directly.

As Charlie quickly catches Alastor up on her latest revelations, Lucifer reaches for his phone to text the same group chat Charlie used to get them all here.

Lucifer: I will pay for all your drinks next night out if you stare at a point just over Alastor’s head until he reacts.

He lets his device buzz a few times so he knows others have acknowledged his text, and then deletes it before Charlie gets a chance to check her phone.

He watches as Vaggie, Angel and Cherri take him up on his offer (respectively leaving “Yes Sir”, “Yes Daddy ~” and “o7” without context in the group chat).

Within moments, Alastor’s head twists unnaturally sideways, and up - for a split-second, it’s kind of adorable - but then they all start giggling, and his gaze swivels to Lucifer. His grin grows knife-sharp and a pointed tentacle goes straight for Lucifer’s phone.

Once Charlie finally gets Lucifer and Alastor to knock it off, the others right the furniture and take their leave. Lucifer magically puts the pieces of his phone back together.

“I’m sorry, again, Alastor,” Charlie sighs, “I did not mean to make you feel excluded because you do not have a phone.”

I definitely did, Lucifer thinks to himself. But not quietly enough, he can sense a disapproving glance from Charlie coming his way.

“It’s no trouble at all, Charlie, dear, you felt inspired and could not wait to get your message out – I completely understand,” Alastor taps his microphone as he oh so graciously accepts her apology, and Charlie smiles up at him.

How in the seven Rings of Hell did it end up with Charlie apologising to Alastor, when Alastor was the one to turn up late to her meeting?

“Anywho” Alastor continues, “I’m all up to speed now, and nothing of importance can possibly be conveyed over those dreadful devices. But I can see how it’d appeal to lesser minds to fulfill a childish note-passing function!” He glares at Lucifer. “What ever happened to letters?” he bemoans, hand clutching his non-existent pearls.

“Is that... A method of communication you would prefer?” Charlie asks him. “Like, should we leave you a written note if anything comes up?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t concern myself with that if I were you – I have… my own ways of keeping on top of anything going on at the hotel,” Alastor grins, as his shadow stretches across the floor, cackles, and dashes off behind a corner - was that a wave on its way out?

“And of course, some basic security measures would alert me to anything requiring immediate attention.” The walls glow a faint green - wards. “If that was all, my dear – this is your dream, and I have complete faith that you know best, when it comes to bringing your endeavours to success. Do what you must.”

The shadows gather beneath him, and he fades away, with a phone-destroying tentacle vanishing last – and yeah, okay, that was definitely a wave.

There’s no way Alastor meant a single word of what he just said to Charlie – but a quick look at her expression tells Lucifer she bought it all, hook, line and sinker. No, no, he cannot let Alastor outdo him and reassure his daughter better than he ever could.

“Charlie, I… Uhm. Yeah, I trust that you know best what this Hotel needs. You’ll figure this out.”

But it sits poorly with him. Love for redemption? These are sinners. No doubt Sir Pentious will be a rare exception.

He cannot let Charlie sense his hesitation - but he’s down on his luck.

“Thanks… Dad.” It’s strained. It’s tense, and it’s not what he wants at all, and he needs a win.

And so he blurts out the first thing he can think of before she can turn away.

“Charlie – wait. Wait. I get it, it’s important for you to know we’re all on board with this, and you want our input. So. How about - I could pass on any staff communications to Alastor?” Oh he is going to regret this one. “Until we find a better solution, that is.” Get. A. Goddamned. Phone. “That way he won’t feel left out” even though he definitely does not care, “and it’s easiest for me to manage – I can sense where pretty much anyone is at the Hotel, and use magical means to make contact.”

Charlie has frozen, her eyes wide. He can’t tell whether in disbelief, horror or excitement, so he barrels on.

“That way, all your amazing new ideas won’t be limited by whatever you discuss and agree at dinner – literally any time of day, if you need anything, you text me, it’s as good as direct communication to… your hotelier. No problem. Think about it, this could save us all considerable time in making progress towards redemption…”

He’s starting to ramble, he knows it, but he wants to be helpful so, so badly. This does not prevent him from feeling slightly nervous about what it is exactly he’s offering. Sure, he can deliver a message, but he can’t guarantee Alastor will respond to them.

But Charlie’s face eventually does break out into a big, bright smile, and yes, he would do absolutely anything to be at the receiving end of that more often.

“It’s really nice to hear you’d like to get more involved, Dad. I’m actually really excited to see you eager to do something personally towards the Hotel’s cause! Plus, this will hopefully get you more used to speaking to Alastor, so maybe down the line you two speaking to each other won’t automatically end in bloodshed…” she laughs awkwardly, rubbing a hand behind her neck.

She seems pleased overall though. Great!

Except… He never said he’d speak to Alastor. What he had in mind was somewhat less. Direct. Less… being in his presence, was the idea. He’d mentioned he liked letters, so… that seemed more appropriate?

(And maybe… maybe the occasion to do something that might not earn Alastor’s ire but something loosely relating to approval would make for a change. A good one. Maybe. It’d certainly be a new experience, and could you blame a man who’s been around for so long to want to try something new).

*** 

The very next day, another frantic text from Charlie comes in on the group chat. Lucifer groans and drags a hand down his face. Would it have been so bad if enough time passed before he was needed, that Charlie had forgotten all about it and reached out to Alastor herself - or better yet, that that sinner just got himself a phone?

He’s panicking a little. He’s supposed to just… Message Alastor? Out of the blue? Oh God.

There isn’t much time to think it through. People will be reacting to the text, he does not want to be late, but if he shows up and Alastor doesn’t, Charlie might doubt him. With Charlie in mind, he snaps his fingers, and hopefully Alastor will respond to the summons.

Downstairs, as is becoming the norm, Charlie hardly waits for people to arrive before launching herself into her newest concern. She wants anyone to be able to apply to the hotel. But if she’s right about redemption only working if a sinner feels a certain way, rather than acts a certain way, that might complicate things.

“So I’m not sure whether this theory should be advertised. Ideally, sinners should be welcomed here regardless of intention, and then, thanks to our exercises and programmes, they’ll naturally bond with others along the way and it’ll all work out! Very much like it did for Sir Pentious. But I was hoping that maybe some of you who are a bit more used to PR might have some thoughts?”

She gets all that out in a single breath, as Lucifer’s portal is still dissipating behind him – and, he sighs in relief, as Alastor materialises into the room, his smile as impassive as ever.

He doesn’t think about his message any further, until the end of the meeting – when, as he melts away, Alastor throws a “And thank you for the note, Dear” to Charlie.

And, yeah, no, that’s slightly concerning, so Lucifer is just gonna leave now – he rushes to open a portal, but doesn’t get out fast enough to avoid hearing his daughter exclaim “Oh uh, that wasn’t me!” followed by a scratched record noise swallowed by darkness.

Huh. Okay. So… What was it that he’d written on the note again? He’d thought of Charlie as he had a note slip itself under Alastor’s door, not doubting for a second that the control freak would sense anything entering his room instantly. But what did he actually say?

He tries to breathe while counting down, the way Charlie taught some of the Hotel guests in morning mindfulness sessions. He likes those sessions enough. Who’d have thought that breathing patterns could unscramble the brain so well?

Right. He’d meant to sort of.. Slap down Charlie’s intentions on a piece of paper really. It should have just been something about respecting Alastor’s communication style, now come downstairs. Except… there was a chance he’d tried to bury his own hesitation and discomfort in too much “Charlie”. Overall though, the message really should have been very neutral? Alastor just probably did not like making a wrong guess in front of everyone. Hah. Sucker.

Hold on now.

This could turn out to be a fun little game. Just for himself. He’d keep his promise to Charlie, Alastor would be made aware of meeting points and times. But… he didn’t need to know who was sending the messages.

***

It’s only a few days later that Charlie needs to change some plans around last minute. She’s waiting in the kitchen with Vaggie… So a note from “Vaggie” it is.

Charlie could not have chosen a better partner. Vaggie is devoted, hard-working, and most importantly right now, to the point. He tries to emulate her clinical tone, and bats off a concise note to the effect of “We’re in the kitchen, come down now.” He heads down too, curious to see what Charlie’s up to.

Alastor shows up, Charlie shows him what she’s worried about, and he assures her everything is in control and that her plans are perfectly fine. Alastor’s words work their magic and Charlie recovers her focus in record speed.

Envy gnaws at Lucifer, scratching at the lining of his stomach and crawling up his throat. She trusts Alastor deeply by now, that much is obvious. He tracks Alastor’s gestures, they’re comically large at times, making Charlie laugh and helping her relax, before he moves in closer, posing as a confidante - he’s proven himself reliable, and rely on him she does.

The feeling in his gut amplifies, he wants to be able to offer her the same reliability and that hurts, but there’s something else tugging at him. He watches closer. It’s how, whenever a shadow crosses Charlie’s brow, or whenever she voices a new concern, Alastor has an easy response ready to bat it away. And Lucifer finds it’s not just the ability to do that he envies - but the reassurance being offered.

He shakes his head to clear it.

When Alastor takes a step back to depart, he sends a tentative nod Vaggie’s way. From where Lucifer sits at the kitchen island keeping an eye on the proceedings, pretending to do some inventory, he is clearly uncertain whether the note came from her. And what a treat it is, to see the Radio Demon less than confident - even though it’s a private joke only he gets to enjoy. Vaggie raises a brow questioningly in response. Lucifer watches Alastor grit his teeth, glaring as he fades away. Vaggie wonders what his problem is, and Lucifer snickers.

***

His phone chimes, and it’s the noise that indicates it’s Charlie.

Lucifer sighs. He could fake Husk’s detached tone. Or Niffty’s mania. But he has a strong sense that Alastor would know immediately what they have – or haven’t – been up to. So Angel it is.

The problem is… He has no idea how Angel would write to Alastor. Would he be provocative as always? Or is that just an in-person act? He’d probably tone it down if he was messaging on behalf of Charlie. Right? Although Angel seems to delight in people’s strong reactions to his advances. Maybe he would be so bold as to send Alastor a scandalous note…

Just thinking about it makes Lucifer feel uncomfortably warm. Him. Writing a salacious note to Alastor. No way. No sir. Nope nope nope. But - what was it Cherri said the other day? He’s gotta commit to the bit. That’s it. But maybe… maybe he doesn’t need to take it quite as far as Angel would. Yeah. Maybe there’s a balance he can strike here.

He ends up settling on something mildly suggestive, but harmless overall, and sends it off.

He refuses to look Alastor’s way when he joins this gathering. Charlie needs some urgent errands run, and just wanted to check with Alastor what staff she might be able to pull away from usual duties to accompany her out. Alastor absently summons Niffty as he tells her she’s free to invite Husk along if he’s at the bar sober. Charlie thanks him and hurries off, handing a list to Niffty.

Lucifer realises he did not need to be here at all - he could have passed on the message from Charlie’s text and left it at that.

Now, what are the chances Alastor will fail to notice that – and, oh, no, he’s glaring at him.

Shit.

Before he can say anything – or run away – Alastor simply fades away in his usual fashion.

Well. That could have gone worse. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he hurries back upstairs.

….And nevermind. As he reaches the top floor, he sees Alastor waiting for him on the landing.

Nope. He turns around, which resolves the “seeing Alastor” part, and opens a portal directly into his room.

“A moment of your time, if you please, Sire.”

“I don’t please,” and Lucifer goes to step into his portal – but his leg fails to follow.

He looks down – a tentacle has wrapped itself around his ankle, glueing him to the floor. It’s not pulling him anywhere, but it’s imposing Alastor’s will on his location all the same.

“How dare you,” Lucifer intones, in a deeper voice meant to intimidate, horns bursting forth and his tail lashing out, wrapping itself around the tentacle and squeezing until the section around his leg is severed off. He lets his portal snap shut and rounds on the sinner.

…Who does not seem intimidated in the slightest, mouth forming a silent “oh” and a glimmer in his eye.

Alastor waves it off, the tentacle melting back into the floor, and approaches Lucifer. “Now, now, your Majesty, there’s no need for that. You’ve clearly been vying for my attention for days, is this any way to behave now that you have it?”

He reaches into his jacket slowly and pulls out one note… two notes… three notes.

Lucifer’s stomach drops, as do his more demonic traits. Why did Alastor keep those?

“Oh my, is that surprise I see on your royal features? Was I not supposed to know who these notes were coming from – come now, Sire, really. And don’t go all shy on me now, especially not after your last message.”

Lucifer barely resists hiding his face behind his hands, choosing to endure the flush he can feel reaching his cheeks under Alastor’s gleeful gaze.

Alastor’s grin widens, as he pulls one note up and brings his microphone to his face.

“It appears I have rendered you speechless! Such a shame, when you clearly have so much to say to me. Don’t you remember – Hi! So,” Alastor’s microphone distorts his voice into a nightmarish version of Lucifer’s own voice, pitched really high and yet not quite reaching Charlie’s, “if this would make communicating with you easier, I’m willing to give it a try! Hope you get this note -”

“Alastor stop it, you’re making my ears bleed!” And that was definitely not the tone he was going for, holy shit, any message would sound like Lucifer was excited to see him, if Alastor reads it out that way.

“I’ll have you know my voice has received nothing but positive reviews, so I fear it’s the approximation of yours that is the issue! But shall we try something different: Seeing as this worked last time…” This time, a dreary blur of Lucifer’s voice imitating Vaggie’s comes out, which actually kinda sounds like his normal voice but moody – or hers with a terrible cold. “Charlie, kitchen, as soon as you can. I sure hope this works -”

“Are you quite done?”

“No, actually, you’ll be thrilled to hear I’ve saved the best for last! Ahem: Hi handsome,” and Lucifer’s jaw drops at Alastor’s imitation of Angel Dust, “it would mean so much to me if you would please come downstairs now and -” And Lucifer absolutely cannot hear any more of that or he will combust.

“How did you know they were from me?” He blurts out the first thing he can think of, in pure panic and desperation to make Alastor stop.

Alastor pauses to look at him like he was dropped on his head as a baby. To be fair, he did have a bad fall that one time.

“Your Majesty,” and ooh, that particular use of his title was extra condescending, “You’re aware, I’m sure, that once I started paying attention, it would become rather obvious that no one was slipping the notes under my door as they appeared in my room. And how many of us could pull that off, I wonder?”

Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, he did not consider that.

“In addition, whilst your stylistic changes in tone were certainly very entertaining, you omitted to adapt your handwriting accordingly.” Alastor holds up the notes facing Lucifer, and sure enough, it’s the same loopy font across all of them.

Woopsies.

“And last but not least! Our beloved film star would have been a lot more explicit than that. This was amateurish work,” Alastor scoffs, peering down at the third note through his monocle with an air of disappointment

“Hey, I can do much worse, okay, just you wait I’ll make you eat those words -”

“Allow me to get to the point, Sire.” Alastor’s teasing composure vanishes, as he slams his staff back to the floor. “I would like to know what kind of.. of sick joy you derived from all of this,” he spits out, brandishing the offending pieces of paper. “Did you have fun, trying to make a fool of me in front of the others?”

Eh, maybe a little.

“And now, what are you going to do to make up for it?”

“Excuse me?” Lucifer sputters.

“Why, yes! Unless if you’d prefer I bring these to Charlie and let her know I find her father’s communications rather insulting?” He brings a hand up to his cheek and shakes his head tragically.

This rotten bastard – Lucifer wants to throttle him, but it might be worth setting the record straight here. He groans. Throttling would be so much easier.

“You’ve got it all wrong, this wasn’t about messing with you. Well at least, not to begin with. Okay so maybe it wasn’t just about messing with you.”

Alastor glares at him, deeply unimpressed, and shadows swirl around his feet. It’s a display of irritation, more than a threat. So Lucifer hurries on.

“Look. I knew you probably wouldn’t turn up when needed if it came as a direct order from me.”

“Very astute of you, Sire.” Recorded applause sounds off in the background. Asshole.

“But, the thing is,” and Lucifer is really trying here, “Charlie is counting on me to make sure you’re aware of staff gatherings at the same time everyone else is, and to let you know when she needs to change plans last minute. So. I’ve just been doing that. And uh… I’m going to keep doing that. Unless you have a better solution?”

“I’m sure you were present when I let Charlie know that would not be necessary, but I understand if that was just another thing that went in one ear and out the other,” Alastor protests.

“That’s not a better solution I’m hearing!”

“I do not need any further messages from you!”

“But that’s what you’ll be getting, because, unfortunately for you, my promises to Charlie come before your complaints!”

The static that seems to follow Alastor everywhere he goes grows louder, but he does not reply. That’s that then.

“Great chat, Alastor.” Lucifer re-opens his portal, and this time, he makes it through.

This should make things easier, really, now they both know what to expect. Surely Alastor has bigger problems than a few notes slipping under his door weekly.

***

He is not surprised when he is reminded, in no time at all, just how petty Alastor can be when displeased.

He’s as nervous as when he wrote his first note, when Charlie asks him to inform Alastor that they need to change the menu for this evening - a new guest has turned up with food allergies, and it’s Alastor’s turn in the kitchen.

Lucifer will actually have to address Alastor as himself.

There is absolutely no reason it should make him feel flustered, and yet it does. He tells himself not to overthink it, but that’s like telling oneself not to think about pink ducklings (but hey now that you’re thinking about them, aren’t they cute?).

Okay. This is okay, he can do this. This is what Charlie is expecting of him, so really, what choice does he have? He throws down the words, plays around with them, swaps some in for others, if he does not get this out soon Alastor is going to go downstairs and cook and he’ll accidentally kill one of Charlie’s guests and it will be all Lucifer’s fault - the note’s got to go.

He cuts back anything superfluous, unwilling to give Alastor anything to latch onto for another humiliating poetic reading.

“Alastor – a new guest has a food allergy. Please change the menu for this evening.”

There. Easy.

Except a moment later a note is slipping under his own door. What?

“Your Majesty – an indication as to what the allergy might be would be most helpful in swapping the right ingredients out. - A”

How is he supposed to know? He’s just the messenger here.

“I’m sure Charlie would be able to provide more information if you ask her.”

Ugh. Stringing those words together was more exhausting than it should have been. He wipes his clammy palms on his pants.

Another minute, another note under his door.

“I did not realise that Charlie would be waiting for me in the kitchen. I was certain her duties took her somewhere else this evening. And whose allergies was it I should be enquiring about – I believe you omitted to name the guest? - A”

This. guy. He was going to strangle him.

***

Days pass, and the note exchanges become a daily occurrence.

“Alastor – Can I change the colour theme to the therapy room?”

“Your Majesty – I don’t know, can you? - A”

“Oh Dearest Hotelier whose opinion is so highly and inexplicably prized by Hell’s most treasured Princess, please would you be so kind as to confirm whether the colour theme to the therapy room might be changed without it clashing with the adjacent yoga room, or would that need changing too?”

“Oh my, Your Majesty, you do flatter me ~ - DH”

An “Answer Charlie’s question, you asshole” is sent at the same time as another note comes in confirming that Charlie may request what she needs and he’ll simply see to it being procured. Of course Alastor would have no issues with consecutive note-sending.

“Alastor – Angel and Cherri have been unexpectedly successful in getting the interest of some new sinners while distributing flyers in the City. Any chance we can get a table with some welcome snacks going before they get here?”

“Your Majesty – I am distraught to be downgraded back to my humble name. I do hope I can make it up to you by offering my every assurance that some refreshments can be arranged by yours truly. - A”

“To our Wondrous and Humble Facilities Manager – I’m sure Charlie will be delighted. Thank you.”

“Your Majesty – you really should know by now that you need to specify dietary requirements. Per guest that is, so do try to remember their names! - Your W&HFM”

“Fuck you fuck you fuck you”

He swears he hears a bark of laughter on the landing, as Alastor makes his way downstairs.

***

When Alastor responds to Lucifer’s notes instead of doing what he’s asked, it never feels like he’s trying to avoid doing it altogether. Rather, it simply appears to be that Alastor delights in pointing out where Lucifer has been too vague for him to assist properly. And in needling him in any way he can, generally.

Which… Lucifer is starting to recognise that the feeling is mutual. Alastor’s notes are actually sort of… entertaining. When he’s not being excessively hostile.

When a note appears in the entrance of his room, he’s not filled with the social anxiety that overwhelms him when he gets a text. These exchanges with Alastor are almost. Fun? No, no, that’s taking it too far (surely). What he can say, though, is that getting a rise out of Alastor always feels like a private victory.

So Lucifer starts writing overly detailed notes. Alastor wants more information upfront? Get hit with a beam of malicious compliance, bitch.

“Good evening, Alastor. I’m sure you’ve noticed that the acid rains have been quite relentless of late, and I hope this has not made going about your day-to-day too difficult. Maybe we should think about offering umbrellas for guests in the lobby that are resistant to acid rain. I think Charlie would approve of the idea, we just need to find a way to make them. It sure is a good thing that we rebuilt this Hotel nice and sturdy, can’t have this beloved building falling apart because of a spot of bad weather now can we? I’m certain you’re expecting me to take credit for that - well, you probably would in my place, but I’m not you, am I. Anyway, because of the acid rain, the plants in the garden have been ruined and Charlie could really use your input in deciding how to rearrange the paths and flowerbed borders so this doesn’t happen again. Such a shame, those were some lovely Hell lilacs and hyacinths we’d manage to grow, those would have smelled lovely on a warm day. Which is most days down here, isn’t it. Oh, I should say, Charlie was already out there when she texted me, so you probably want to hurry, wouldn’t want to keep her waiting now, would you! Take care out there though, don’t just rush out without checking if it’s raining! And do give a thought to the umbrella idea!”

He feels a bit bad that Charlie will likely have to wait around while Alastor inevitably ends up late, following receipt of this note. But the thought of Alastor tripping all over himself to get outside in time is too good to resist.

Lucifer has been reliable in getting Charlie’s messages out to Alastor so far - it wouldn’t be as easy now to convince her it’s Lucifer’s fault her hotelier is late, which gives Lucifer some leeway.

Unsurprisingly, no response comes this time – that’s right, hurry out there, you tall freak.

But early the next day, for the first time, a note appears under Lucifer’s door as the shadows peel away, without him having sent anything out first.

“Your Majesty – Thank you so very much for your note yesterday, and for your concern for me vis-a-vis the rain. Please rest assured that it is no trouble for me, I have long since found ways to sidestep what the rest of Hell deems to be yet another trial. I would enquire as to your own feelings towards acid rain, but you are, of course, the King of Hell, and I would not dare presume that something as insignificant as the weather could affect you. Your suggestion regarding umbrellas has been submitted to the Princess for consideration. Yes, I am forced to admit that the new Hotel has been admirably constructed. In fact, I discover new aspects to it every day. Today, for example, Charlie is showing me a room that is supposedly meant to become the music therapy room. In fact, she was reminiscing just now about how you learned to play all instruments, and therefore that you’d be ideally situated to advise on which ones would be best adapted to sinners of differing levels and aptitudes. I’m sure she would have been delighted if you’d have been able to join us at this very moment to share your insights. But, alas! Moments like these are so very fleeting. I do hope you choose to join us in this spare room if you’re able – though of course, I cannot guarantee that moment will not have passed.

- A”

Lucifer barely makes it to the end of the note, before he launches himself into the new music room, his pajamas swapping into his suit as he rolls through his portal and into Charlie’s feet. As she hauls him up with a concerned look, he sees Alastor behind her, turning away, to hide the laughter betrayed by his shaking shoulders.

Another week passes with Lucifer and Alastor swapping notes (that are distinctly shaping up to be letters, if he were to be honest with himself), each trying to outdo the other in useless chatter and vapid observations about Pentagram City and the Hotel, with the true message buried in there somewhere. The subtler, the better – by the time the recipient picks up on the actual message, they are running late.

At the end of the following week, Vaggie decides that Charlie has been working too hard recently. She argues things are well in hand, and they should take some time to step away, take a breather, before coming back with a fresh outlook and new ideas. She just about manages to keep Charlie’s nose out of Hotel business (and, for the most part, out of the Hotel entirely) for the next two days. Alastor and Lucifer have no reason to exchange letters in that time. So they don’t.

When Charlie announces that she feels very much refreshed at dinner on the third evening, and is ready to get back to it, the table breathes a sigh of relief. Things did not get out of hand too quickly, but they need their leader back. And Lucifer finds that he did want things to go back to normal. With everything that now entailed.

He glances at Alastor.

…And is immediately greeted by the nauseating vision of the demon swooping over to Charlie, to reassure her about how well the Hotel runs even in her absence now, she’s put such efficient schedules in place and she was so right to entrust him with everything for two days.

Alastor glances back at Lucifer at the end of his little speech - with a sharp brow raised in mockery. Before he knows what he’s doing, Lucifer is asking Angel to pass him the salt and (“oops, clumsy me!”) dumping it all in Alastor’s plate.

Some time after dinner, a note comes in from Alastor, but not so long that Lucifer is comfortably in bed - nope, he is in his bathtub stacking ducks on the edge as high as they can go.

Fucking shitsticks Jesus Christ.

He vaults out of the tub, snaps his fingers and he’s dry, snaps again and clothes appear in his body and the note in his hand.

As expected, he’s faced with a wall of text.

There’s no time for this nonsense, no way he’s going to trudge through the sprawling handwriting and leave Charlie waiting again, this has gone on for long enough. He’s already wasted precious seconds.

He’d given this some thought, in anticipation of another note like this - he’s hacked their little game (are they playing a game? How has this happened?). So he scans the note briefly, clocks a location word, and leaps into the indicated room without bothering to read anything else. It’ll all be filler words, and anyway he can get context on arrival from Charlie.

Except… Where is she?

The staff room is empty - but for Alastor, who appears to be writing something down at the only desk in the room. The demon pauses, picks up his garish mug, and twists around to greet Lucifer with a far too sharp grin and a delighted glint in his eye.

Lucifer is surprised he doesn’t say “I’ve been expecting you, Your Majesty.” He’s only missing a threatening looking cat in his lap.

He manages to not blurt that out, and asks the obvious instead. “Where is Charlie?”

“Probably in her room, at this late hour.”

“Doesn’t she need me here?”

Alastor tilts his head, “Why, I rather believe she’s grown to function quite independently in your long absence, so need is a strong word, but I suppose your presence at the Hotel is appreciated, all things considered.”

“I mean now and in this room, asshole.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“Because you sent me a note and your note said…” He cannot finish that sentence because he has no idea what the note said.

“Hmm? Goodness, your Majesty, with how long you took before showing up, I would have thought that, surely, you had taken the time to read the note carefully.” Seriously. Fuck. This. Guy. “But no matter! Since your reading comprehension needs a little boost…” Alastor turns the chair around to face Lucifer properly, and crosses his legs primly before continuing. “It occurred to me that, perhaps, since you’ve been so diligently playing messenger of late for Charlie and I -”

“Just for Charlie, really.”

“- you may wish to know what she and I had planned for tomorrow. You see, there are times at which I’d really need to not be interrupted, so I set those out for you. I really thought it was all straightforward, but knowing you, there was a chance you’d require some clarification. So! I was going to leave you our schedules in the staff room.” He taps the papers on the desk behind him. “But I can see you’ve come to find me – I can only assume you had something you wished to discuss?” He blinks wide, innocent eyes up at Lucifer.

Lucifer sees red. He could be comfortably splashing around his bath, or lounging in bed by now, instead of enduring this. They never exchanged anything that required anything less than immediate attention, surely Alastor would have known – ah.

“Did you just take advantage of our communication system to… trick me into coming downstairs for nothing?,” he gasps in disbelief.

“Staff schedules are a key cog in the Hotel machine. Are you implying that the smooth running of the Hotel is for nothing, Sire?”

“The running of the Hotel is just fine, it’s my own running around I’m less keen on!”

“I’m sure your daughter would be thrilled to know you’re keeping in shape. And you’ve been so much more at ease for it! I’m not sure how the residents feel about the glimpses of your, ah, duck print sleepwear, but the natural hair is a delight, Sire!”

Lucifer fails to stop his hand from running through his hair – it’s all fluffed up after his bath. He self-consciously smoothes it out, still wondering why he is here.

“No need to be so sarcastic,” he mutters, as if Alastor had any other setting. Maybe “angry”. “If you can only bear to see me all decked out in the regal attire, make your messages helpful.”

“Where’s the fun in that,” Alastor responds blithely.

He knows Alastor meant the “helpful messages” part, but, hey, two can play dumb.

“So you don’t like the regal attire? Oh, Alastor, was that what this is all about… you were hoping to see more of me? Is that why I’m here?” He intones, pitching his voice lower, and for a moment, every line in Alastor’s body goes tense. He recovers before Lucifer can process the reaction.

“You’re imagining things, your Majesty. You see, you’ve demonstrated a tendency to struggle to get to the point in your recent messages, the sign of a very distracted mind.” Deep breaths, Lucifer, deep breaths, Lucifer, do not punt Charlie’s hotelier across the seven Rings. “So,” Alastor says, relaxing his form again incrementally, “I was simply trying to provide any assistance I could, by anticipating what you might need…”

He uncrosses his legs, and, slowly, recrosses them the opposite way. Lucifer’s eyes latch onto them immediately. When he looks back up, Alastor is smirking at him. “Hmm, a distracted, and distractible, mind indeed…”

Lucifer grits his teeth. And stalks towards him.

Alastor tries not to acknowledge the move, betrayed only by the widening of his eyes, as he continues, “But fear not! I’m sure a bit of a penchant for rambling is perfectly normal for someone of your advanced age, ha ha!”

“Is that so…” Lucifer says, “I wonder, what excuse do you have for the length of your notes, then? Who has so much to say to whom now, hmm?” He mock-wonders, recalling their first altercation about their messages.

He reaches Alastor’s chair. Alastor tilts his head up in defiance – and God knows Lucifer attended Charlie’s seminars on the de-escalation of conflicts, but he is powerless to recall any of it when faced with a challenge from Alastor – so he cages Alastor in by leaning down on the armrests.

Static sputters and goes silent.

“Go ahead, then, speak” Lucifer murmurs,“and please be so kind as to spell out for my ageing mind when you’d be available to me, tomorrow.”

Alastor jumps to his feet. Lucifer takes a step back at once to allow him to do so. Annoyingly, it seems Alastor can’t even concede the advantage of height for even one complete verbal exchange. Smart.

He expects Alastor to step away. Instead, Alastor leans down until they’re eye-to-eye and ooh, usually when he does that he’s really, really annoyed.

“For. You mean ‘for’ you. And by ‘you’, you mean ‘Charlie’,” Alastor articulates, his rage only coming through a little in his voice. It’s very obvious in his face, though.

Lucifer blinks. (Well, he tries but he can tell he doesn’t always sync both eyes up correctly.) Yeah, that’s what he said.

Right?

“In any event, your Majesty,” Alastor straightens up and twirls his microphone around, “it was all in the message, I’m sure you’ll take the time to read it now. You can do that, can’t you? Night night now, I’m sure those duckie pajamas of yours will help you have sweet dreams!”

He melts away in a rush, his shadows cutting across his own final jab.

And Lucifer is left alone in the silent room, to wonder.

What was the point of all that.

Not a word for two days, but the minute they could reasonably need to exchange notes again, Alastor does… this.

He feels off balance. Or then again, maybe it isn’t his balance that is off but something definitely is. On the other hand, he often is left feeling wrong and shaken when he leaves his room to interact with others. So maybe this isn’t all that strange.

After some moments spent caught in confusion, he pulls out the note that brought him here.

There’s no doubt about it – it really was just a big block of text.

If Alastor had truly wanted him to spot what the message was about, he could have easily spaced out the different time slots mentioned with like… bullet points. A table. Something, anything, just some basic formatting.

Wasn’t it an established fact that Alastor would want to avoid Lucifer’s presence at all costs? And yet, his choice of style really could have only had one consequence. The one that played out - a puzzled King of Hell full of questions, and a lone Radio Demon to demand answers from.

Had Alastor simply… miscalculated? Or, perhaps more likely, was irritating Lucifer simply too good to resist?

Lucifer sighs, and decides to walk back to his room to clear his head.

***

Charlie does not ask him to message Alastor the next day.

It occurs to Lucifer that the most efficient way for the demon to manage his schedule would have been for Alastor to tell Charlie directly when he is not free.

Alastor is an efficient man. No doubt he did.

Which makes their interaction the previous night all the more infuriating. Alastor was just toying with him, he must have been.

Lucifer crumples the note in his hand. Just he wait.

***

The next time Charlie does end up shooting Lucifer a quick text - “Sorry to still be doing this, Dad – can you check if Alastor is free real quick? Will tell you all about it when we get the deets ironed out but that’s in part what I need to check with A” – he reacts methodically, despite the absolute train crash it causes in his brain.

First, he takes the time to reassure her, because being there for her comes first – “Not a problem at all, it’s a pleasure to be able to help this way!”

Second, he refuses to decide whether he means that – okay, maybe he means it more than he doesn’t, but that does not mean he needs to think too deeply about just how much.

Third, he allows himself to feel the itsiest bitsiest tiniest bit jealous that Alastor is the one being consulted at this early stage of whatever Charlie is planning, so he goes back to her again with a quick, “... What do you need him for, exactly? Just in case he asks! And let me know if there’s anything I can help with too :)”

Charlie responds right away, she’s sweet and attentive like that. “We’re planning an open evening, was hoping he might be able to provide some ambient music and give his thoughts on the menu, we already got some samples in! … Do u want to see the menu / be my royal taster instead?”

“Yes would love to :D” 

“Cool come down too!”

And finally – he takes a moment to reflect on how he wants to get back at Alastor this round.

The demon had pushed it, making him rush around for no purpose at all. It made Lucifer want to push back harder.

It seemed Alastor had picked up on his own embarrassment at being caught less than perfectly put together, if only in appearances – it’s all he has left. He resists checking his hair.

But Alastor had betrayed his own discomfort when Lucifer had come too close. Not so much as to actually push him away, on second thought. But just enough that he’d seemed… uncertain.

It’s only fair that he gets to see Alastor as out of sorts as Alastor makes him.

And well. He did say he’d make him eat his words that one time… Lucifer has yet to make good on that promise.

“Alastor – Do you think you might be able to help me with something? It’s easier to explain in person, if you’ll meet me downstairs.”

Far too vague for Alastor’s liking. Lucifer only has to wait a minute.

“Your Majesty – Must I remind you yet again, that it is Charlie I am assisting. What is required? - A”

“You. Please.”

Well, his music, technically, but it seems to be one big package. He chuckles to himself as he pictures with perfect clarity Alastor’s stunned silence. He is about to double down, but a message comes back to him first.

“Your Majesty – if it is truly you who requires my services – I apologise but I do not work for you, what can you offer to sweeten the deal? - A”

“We both know you do not enjoy sweets. If you come downstairs I’ll give you something you’d much rather fill your mouth with.”

He actually has no idea what samples Charlie procured, but it’s fine – he does not need to extend his angelic senses to hear that screech of feedback.

Delightful. He pushes it.

“Alastor – Now, please. Don’t keep me waiting.”

And on that note, he heads down to find Charlie – if Alastor doesn’t come, it’s fine, he’ll say he wasn’t free and can relay Charlie’s message later.

He finds her with Vaggie in the kitchen. He goes to greet them merrily – when shadows coalesce at his feet and grow into a familiar form. And keep growing. They can stop now – oh he’s got to be doing this on purpose.

“How kind of you to join us – hungry, after all?” he asks, as innocently as he can before Charlie’s watchful gaze. He tries not to show how tilting his head up this much is uncomfortable.

Only then does he take in Alastor’s expression. He is livid.

Oops.

“I just happened to be on my way out – how presumptuous of you to assume I’d respond to your pitiful summons! Sounds like whatever little problem you have – for I do not doubt that it is, indeed, proportionate to you – is all yours to deal with,” Alastor hisses through clenched teeth, as he towers over Lucifer.

And that just about does it, really, they need to have words and they need to have words now.

“Really? For all your creepy and unnatural growth, you can’t seem to grow out of size jokes! And I’m only trying to accommodate you and your technophobia!”

“This? This is accommodating me?” Alastor pulls out his most recent note, crumples it up in rage, and drops it on Lucifer’s head.

Lucifer vaguely hears Angel’s gasp – seems like he just walked in with Husk – as the ball of paper bounces off him and drops to the floor, ruining the otherwise perfect silence.

“What the… don’t you fucking dare -” Lucifer can feel flames escape him in the same breath.

“Have you lost the ability to communicate civilly? Has being locked in your palace so long done some irreparable damage?” Alastor’s grin widens in a terrifying parody of joy, as he balls up another note and prepares to drop it on his King’s head too.

Lucifer bats his arm away with a snarl. “Just get over yourself and stop being so precious about communications, and you won’t have to endure this, since it’s so hard for you!” He launches some of his own notes at Alastor before a second one hits him.

In a flash, more notes are being pelted right back at him. “Orders, orders, always more orders, with you! Do you only ever message others when you need something?”

The jab hits its mark (as does another crumpled note), and gives Lucifer pause for a split second – long enough to notice Angel in the background. His eyes are tracking the pieces of paper flying around.

Alastor barrels on, “Do not even think about sending any more messages like today’s or I will refuse to acknowledge any more at all!”

“That was payback for calling me amateurish, choose your insults more carefully next time!”

“You’ve seriously been mad about that this whole time?”

One of Angel’s hands starts pointing at the notes one by one, as another hand is raised to keep count.

“Are you actually going to judge how long I hold grudges?” Lucifer shrieks in disbelief.

Alastor tilts his head to the side, a small concession.

Lucifer chucks one last note, aiming for an overgrown antler. “Now put those away,” he says, as the note finds its mark. “For the record, Charlie does actually need to speak to you right now.”

He freezes. Charlie. She’s… right there.

And she looks a perfect mixture of confused and horrified.

Husk pushes Angel’s hands down – all of them raised to help with the count by now – and shakes his head gently.

***

Charlie enters the bar area the next evening, at a time most of them are there, albeit dispersed across different zones of seating. She scans the area – Lucifer is hopeful she’ll join him, but instead, she beckons him over with one hand and continues to look around.

Her gaze catches on Alastor, who is leaning over the bar, questioning Husk about sales over the past week. Angel is sprawled directly on top of the bar nearby, since Alastor’s conversation is preventing Husk from swatting him away. She marches up to Alastor, and – is Lucifer expected to follow? He tries not to grumble as he gets up. There truly isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for his little girl.

But just because he’ll do it, doesn’t mean he’ll do it with enthusiasm. He trails a fair few steps behind, reluctant to get involved in conversation. That is, until he sees Charlie place a small device on the bar before Alastor.

Curiosity irresistibly drags him closer.

“It’s a one-way pager,” Charlie is explaining to an equally baffled Alastor, “and I should have done this a while ago.” Alastor raises a finger, as if to interject – to an almost comical effect, Angel does the same, but after a beat and a glance between them, both of them decide not to.

“This is all my fault,” Charlie carries on, “I knew you and Dad don’t get along, I really should have accepted Dad’s suggestion as a temporary fix only.”

Lucifer is vaguely aware of the look Alastor sends him, then, and of Angel opening his mouth once more, but he has bigger concerns at the minute.

“Charlie, no, none of… this is your fault,” he gestures miserably between himself and Alastor, and Alastor tilts his head at him, as if he needed pointing out how ridiculous the movement was, “and the main thing is, you’re already doing so much, making one thing easier for you was the least I could do… But uhm.” He looks down at the pager. “I guess I’ll find another way to help.”

Alastor huffs at this – in disbelief, or frustration of finally having some tech forced upon him, Lucifer couldn’t guess.

“Dad… I really appreciate that you volunteered to do this, but I’m sure we will find something uh.. Even easier for you to do! Don’t worry, I’ve got my contact with Alastor covered now, I’m sure you’re both relieved to hear.” She smiles gently, “As much as I wish you’d get along, it’s not right for me to force you two into being uncomfortable.”

Angel looks between the three of them, having visibly tried to interrupt Charlie’s little speech this whole time. He finally settles for giving Lucifer a loaded look, as if expecting him to say something.

“Uuuh…Yeah. I’m sure we’ll find something for me to do! You know me, ready for anything,” Lucifer tops it off with an awkward chuckle. Angel’s look doesn’t go away – must have been the wrong thing to say, oh, yikes, so he tries again. “I mean, uh, no, it was no trouble Charlie, don’t worry about it at all!”

Angel throws all of his hands up, swings his legs off the bartop, and leaves, muttering, “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

***

After that, things go back to… normal. Old normal. Normal normal.

But Lucifer cannot seem to sit still in it. It’s like returning to outgrown clothing, it used to fit, but now it feels wrong and itches in places and it makes him feel restless.

Do you only ever message others when you need something?

It echoes in his brain uncomfortably. Maybe… maybe reaching out to others will settle him. It’s an unusual thought for him, but he can sense that he’s on the right track as he picks up his phone.

Messaging people he now sees every day feels silly, but the idea of texting the Sins with no preamble makes him nauseous. So he practices with Charlie.

He asks her what she’s planning on cooking next time it’s her turn. He tells her about the next duck he wants to build.

The first few times she ends up asking, “...Was there anything you wanted to ask me?” or “Was that all?” and he feels like an asshole.

But eventually, she grows comfortable texting back about how her day is going, or leaves him happy emojis if she’s busy. She can tell him at dinner anyway.

Opening this line of communication with Charlie in a more natural way - that brings him joy, unquantifiable lightness, absolutely.

But it does not settle him.

Lucifer understands why, when, one evening, Charlie texts him, and without thinking, he reaches into his magic to have a note prepared.

He pulls his hands into his chest as if burned, afraid of what they might do if left free to snap.

On another evening, Lucifer loses himself in thought as he puts his next duck together. When he comes back to himself, he’s staring at his doorstep.

He catches himself glancing at his door hopefully much more frequently, once he becomes aware he has quietly formed the habit.

***

He steps out of his room one evening, in need of a chamomile tea. Sleep evades him despite his fatigue, so he drags his feet as he makes his way to the stairs.

Alastor reaches the top step as he gets there, on his way back up.

The demon’s eyes flicker to his pajamas - these ones are just striped - and Lucifer is too tired to reprogram his plans, which did not include interacting with a Radio Demon, so he looks straight ahead and keeps walking.

Like he doesn’t have anything to say to him.

And he doesn’t strictly have anything he wants to say to him. Not in particular, not really.

Despite how long some of those notes were, and how he itches to send more.

His fingers twitch at his sides, but he does not allow them to snap.

During the day, their paths cross occasionally. Sometimes, Lucifer thinks he can feel the weight of Alastor’s gaze on him – but when he turns around, a cutting repartee already on his tongue, he only ever catches glimpses of Alastor walking away.

Other times, he wants to poke and prod at the sinner just for the sake of staving off the overwhelming sense of boredom that crushes the air from his lungs. He opens his mouth, lips already twitching at the corners in glee – but as if he had a sixth sense for these things, Alastor never fails to snap his neck around to look at him at that exact moment, and Lucifer finds himself diving straight back into the conversation with whoever else is present.

It’s for the best, he tells himself. A fight would only upset Charlie.

***

It’s the end of another day that drifted in quietly, and that will bleed seamlessly into another.

Lucifer lies flat on his bed. It’s unlikely sleep will find him tonight, but there’s nothing else to do.

No sooner does he think that, that two things happen at once.

One, he fails to catch himself from glancing hopefully at his door - it’s not been long enough that he’s lost the habit.

Two, his phone chimes - the generic tone. It does that a lot, and he ignores it a matching amount. But there’s something about the timing of this one – and maybe his lassitude – that makes him reach for it.

Unknown number.

He opens the text.

“Greetings! I’ve found the summoning by pager to be quite dull so I’ve gotten rid of it. And as someone may have once said – if this would make communicating with you easier, I suppose I may be willing to give it a try. Do try not to blow it now!.

PS: I feel this may be a good time to let you know I have had this the whole time, but I do rather prefer to limit who may access me at a whim. Be a dear and keep this to yourself . - A”

Lucifer feels his jaw drop. No way. Alastor has a phone. Alastor has a phone and is letting him have his number. He starts thinking about how to respond (play it cool, play it cool, play it cool, Lucifer).

His phone chimes again a moment later. It opens to “Oh! I almost forgot. Charlie actually had something she wanted you to know. But, first, you must hear about how…” before a wall of text appears before Lucifer’s eyes.

He grins.

No way Alastor texts faster than him. He’s going to regret starting this again.

Or maybe… his communication is clear, and he’ll get just what he asked for.

~ fin ~

P.S.:

“CHARLIE’S” NOTE: "Hi! Sooooo, if this would make communicating with you easier, I’m willing to give it a try! Hope you get this note? If so, please come downstairs for a quick staff meeting now :)"

“VAGGIE’S” NOTE: “Seeing as this worked last time… Charlie, kitchen, as soon as you can. I sure hope this works. This better work. You better show up. Do not disappoint us Charlie”

“ANGEL’S” NOTE”: “Hiiiii handsome ~ It would mean sooooo much to me if you would please come downstairs now <3 (And like, Charlie needs to speak to ya) Looking forward to seeing you there xxxx”