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Lucifer knew that Vox had left its marks. Things like these always did. And he had gotten Alastor out. He had managed to break that chain that hung between him and the TV demon. It had taken a bit of sacrifice, but he had managed.
And now, the hotel was quiet.
Not in the literal sense of the word. If he closed his eyes, he’d hear the hubbub of demons in the foyer, gathering around Husks little bar. He’d be able to listen to laughter echoing through the stairwell, or the sounds of someone shedding a tear during a therapy session.
But where it counted, it was quiet.
His and Alastor’s rooms were on opposite ends of the same hall, and there was poetry in that. Lucifer still did not know if it had been on purpose, when he’d used his powers to rebuild the hotel for Charlie, that he had put their rooms where they were. It had seemed logical at the time. The radio tower and the bayou on the one end, his bedroom on the other. Maybe it’d been to keep an eye on the other. Maybe he hadn’t thought about it at all.
He was thinking about it now, a lot.
He didn’t expect Alastor to be the same. Not that he had ever expected much from Alastor in the first place. But the past few weeks - or months - the deer demon had grown on him. He didn’t know why. They had hardly ever been kind to one another. They had coffee cups that mocked their respective animals of choice. There was a sign on his door that stated Alastor wasn’t allowed in his rooms.
And yet, there had been… fondness at the foundation of it all.
That fondness was, apparently, gone. Alastors eyes had been cold and hard the last time they met Lucifer’s, and he didn’t know whether he should ever expect them to glow up again. Vox had harmed him - he had let Vox harm him - and for what?
Lucifer knew the answer. Thought he knew, at least. Charlie had to be protected, and Lucifer wasn’t up to the task. The king of Hell didn’t know what hurt worse: that Alastor had figured that one out, or that he was right.
He owed him for that.
Perhaps that was why he was at the door, having cracked it open. Nothing was locked here, not to him, and he didn’t care enough about privacy to keep out on that guise alone. It was easy enough to slip into the dark of the room that he had helped build. He wondered, suddenly, if Alastor even liked it. He’d modelled it after his original chambers: half of it a cozy living and bedroom, but the further you got, the softer the ground became, until it was the wet of the marshlands that sucked at the soles of your feet. In the distance, past the bed and the dining table, he could see the outlines of the two gators.
‘Alastor?’
There was so little left of him, Lucifer thought, as he wandered towards the curled up figure on the bed. He had always been large to him. Tall, imposing. But now, as he laid curled up in his underclothes, there wasn’t as much left of him as Lucifer would like. Ther wasn’t much left of him at all.
There came no response, either.
To anyone else, that might have been a bad sign, but Lucifer chose to interpret it as indifference - which was probably a best case scenario. The man could have told him to leave, forced him to leave, even. The silence was a welcome, albeit saddening alternative.
He sat at the foot of the bed, being careful not to touch. Alastor didn’t like touch much and it was difficult for Lucifer, who was so tactile, to understand that. He had always managed to protect that boundary, however. Pestering, sure. Annoying cups? Fine. But he’d never touched the radio demon to tease him.
Of course, they had touched. Especially that one night. A little bit after the hotel had been reinstated. There had been rye and smoke and a red haze that seemed to have stuck to Lucifer’s mind since then. One night of… what? Pleasure? Sin? He had expected it to last, but it hadn’t. They had returned to their solemn states of being annoyed by one another. Or at least, Alastor had. And Luce had followed. It hurt less than being left behind.
But he wasn’t there because of that.
“Charlotte misses you,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t truly a lie. He had spoken to his daughter during breakfast and she had inquired about him multiple times. She’d wanted to know if Lucifer had spoken to him, yet. If he’d said anything. If she could visit him already. But as much as he loved Charlie, he didn’t think her visit would do Alastor a lot of good, currently.
Not that his own visit would, but he had to do something.
“And so do I.”
Those words had not been on the tip of his tongue before he had gotten lost into thought and as such they spooked him a little. He didn’t even know if they were true, because why would he? They were nothing to one another but rivals by proximity. If one of them ever left the hotel, he didn’t think the rivalry would last. Not like Alastor’s little spat with Vox had lasted. But then again, Vox was a figure. Lucifer had become… forgettable.
No, scratch that. He’d let himself become forgettable.
“Not that I can’t do without you,” there he was again, his voice, rambling on without second thought. He ought to stop himself before he’d say something stupid but it was so damned easy to talk to Alastor. Always had been, for some weird reason. Whether it was a quick quip or a song or a full blown fight - communicating with the radio demon felt like a breath of fresh air. And so he did.
“It’s actually rather good at the hotel. Vaggie has taken over most of your chores, so don’t worry about those. I have very few people to annoy in the morning, but then again that gives me a reason to sleep in. I do need my beauty sleep, even I am not getting any younger, and people love that smooth skin…”
He winked, but it fell flat without someone to watch it.
This had been stupid. Why was he here, talking to someone who didn’t desire to speak to him? Taking up space in the room of a person who probably would be better off without him. What did he have to offer Alastor that he thought he could come here and disturb the peace that the man so… desperately seemed to want.
It was selfish. He was selfish.
What’s new?
“Anyway,” he said, pushing himself up from the bed again. The edge of the wood left a burning sensation in his thighs that he strangely enjoyed. “I ought to get going. Got many kingly things to do, after all.”
He had nothing to do. Nothing but to think of that image burned onto the dark folds of his mind. The one he saw whenever he closed his eyes. Alastor tied to a chair. Alastor all alone. And that fierce feeling in his chest that told him he would never let this happen again. It was a feeling he did not understand, but he felt it now, too. Even if the man did not speak back.
Yet, he wandered towards the door. First, he did so slowly, but the closer the ornate oak wood came, the quicker his steps got. In the end he was always running, reaching out to take hold of the door handle, and then…
“Lucifer, wait.”
The voice could have been a whisper, but from the shadow that had appeared on the door, Lucifer deduced it was not. The long, dark antlers blocked his passage, as if the shades asked him to stay, and he turned around.
“Ah, it speaks.”
He couldn’t help the little snide remark, and he saw one scarlet red shoulder shock, perhaps with a huff of laugher. Then, the figure on the bed pushed itself up, and Lucifer could see Alastor. His tired eyes, his mussed up hair. He remembered seeing his human form in Rosie’s memories. He looked a little bit like that, underneath.
“It does indeed.”
“What does it wish to ask?” Lucifer continued quietly.
Again, silence. Lucifer rolled back on the heels of his feet, wondering how long he’d have to stay put. Just when he thought there would be no answer, and that he might as well give up for the evening, Alastor took a deep breath.
“Stay for a bit.”
It wasn’t a request, and thought Lucifer did not often take orders kindly he couldn’t say no to this one. His black claws wrapped around the frame of one of the chairs that stood near the fire, and he dragged it to the bed as easily as he would a twig. This was his realm, after all. Nothing here was truly heavy.
Except for his heart, maybe.
He fell down on the red velvet. Alastor had turned around, still half hidden under the blanket, but he could see the eyes glow in the deep dark of the fabric. Watching him, measuring whether he was being mocked. He wasn’t. Lucifer could just tell him that.
“For what?” he asked, eventually, as the silence dragged on again. He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. Lilith had their moments of silence, too, but he’d been terrible at those, too. Annoying, she’d said. Trying to fill every last second of silence until…
“Just stay, okay?”
Alastor’s eyes met his own and he couldn’t say no to that, could he? There was no grand gesture - not even an outstretched hand - but his voice was pleading, and if there was anything that Lucifer could not resist, it was a plea.
Especially when it came from those whom he - for some reason - cared about deeply.
“Sure,” he said, kicking his feet up on the edge of the bed. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”
He didn’t know yet, then, that he’d come to hope that Alastor would need him for a very long time indeed.