Work Text:
Alastor wasn’t sure if the speakers outside V Tower served any real purpose other than communication with Vox. He had never heard them be used for anything else, especially considering the overlord’s propensity for broadcasting. He really ought to thank the picture box for the convenience, if he was ever forced to thank him for anything.
Hell never truly rested, the streets of the entertainment district still populated as Alastor stepped into the square, voice reverberating through the area. “Long time no see, hasn’t it been, Vox?”
They hadn’t spoke since Vox’s little tantrum, and Alastor would’ve gladly let that silence stretch on for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, he suspected ignorance would’ve only worsened his dilemma.
“Don't make me repeat myself, old pal. It's really the least you can do after all the trouble you’ve caused,” he said, tapping his staff against the pavement.
It took half a moment for Vox to appear, haggard and exhausted in nightwear, as if spending the past hours ceaselessly fighting sleep. “It's the middle of the night. What the fuck do you want?”
“You look dreadful.”
“I know,” Vox rolled his eyes. “Is that all you called me for?”
“Just thought it was worth noting,” Alastor shrugged. “What's a little small talk between two friends?”
Vox’s screen glitched out at the word, already stepping back. “See you around, Al.”
“You don't get to leave after what you've done,” he replied, rising from the shadows behind the television.
“What I’ve done?” Vox repeated. “Yeah, I’m really sorry for kidnapping the poor defenseless radio demon. Get over yourself.”
“Not that,” Alastor snapped. “This… sickness you've given me. Fix it.”
Vox blinked. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“Don't act like you don't know; it's unlike you to be so humble.”
“I don't,” he insisted. “What sickness? You look fine.”
“It's hardly a physical dilemma.”
“So, what, you think I fucked with your head? If I could do that, I would've done it a long time ago.”
“And yet, I have no reason to believe that you've already done such a thing.”
“Oh my god, you're impossible. Can you just tell me what it is I apparently did?”
Of course the man wanted him to humiliate himself before they made any progress. “It's a matter of obsession.”
It started with the garden. Charlie had unveiled yet another ‘community space’, and was as subtle as a sledgehammer about getting guests to partake in it. Surprisingly, they did. Alastor suspected it had to do with her not explicitly banning the growth of recreational drugs.
He wasn’t opposed to the idea- it’d be good to have somewhere to grow herbs for his cooking. Unfortunately, the open area introduced the problem of having to deal with other, lesser and far more irritating souls
But he happened to be bored that day, and his go-to source of entertainment wasn’t locking himself in his room like usual. It didn’t take long for Alastor to discover that he had apparently found somewhere new to embarrass himself.
The garden was built in the rubble of the old hotel, a space Alastor chose to avoid due to less-than-pleasant memories of the last extermination. He was sure, if asked, Charlie would’ve provided some sort of spiel about new beginnings concerning its location.
The king was found pruning shrubs in a corner patch; sleeves rolled up to expose the porcelain of his arms fading into scorched black and, of course, a duck-themed apron.
Lucifer Morningstar was, begrudgingly, a very important person, and Alastor knew he’d be happier if he wasn't. He could easily picture the angel as a lower-ranking hellborn or sinner, ironically enough; living a quiet life with his distant daughter and memory of his wife.
He doubted it’d be half as fun to toy with him, though.
“You’re blocking the sun, Bambi,” Lucifer groaned as Alastor loomed over him, not looking up from his shears.
“I’m simply curious,” he replied, not moving an inch. “To what do we owe you the pleasure of you leaving your chambers, your majesty?”
“Like you get out much.” the angel rolled his eyes as he paused his work. “It's called having a hobby. You know, the thing normal people do instead of standing in the corner and feeling sorry for themselves?”
“I’m familiar with the concept. I thought you already found something to occupy your time- or have you finally grown out of your waterfowl fascination?” Alastor kneeled down to Lucifer’s level, watching the garden patch. They weren’t native to Hell, he could tell; nothing like the florals that surrounded Rosie’s emporium. He couldn’t place a name to most of the earthly delights before him, but the magnolias in full bloom caught his eye.
They always would, with how his maman would braid them into her hair during springtime. The blossoms reminded him of a time in his life where things could be perceived as moral and just, by whichever metric that mattered.
“Mommy issues much?” Vox interrupted. The two sat in a conference room in an older wing of V Tower, most likely from when the building was first constructed. It didn’t take much to convince him to enter.
“My mother was a wonderful woman,” Alastor corrected. “This is my father's fault.”
“You don’t say. What does this have to do with me again?”
“I’m getting to it.”
“Surely, these must be hard to cultivate in Hell?”
“I like a challenge.”
Alastor made a noncommittal noise in response as he watched him return to work. Seeing the man literally get his hands dirty felt more like a performance than anything, the position unfit for someone as doll-like as him.
He was sure Lucifer believed that, as if the angel didn’t shut down the second he was placed in a situation where he couldn’t snap his fingers and disappear. Lucifer was soft, always leaving his weaknesses exposed because he had convinced himself he was above harm. It was irritating to watch him blatantly ignore his limits- not out of any concern for him, of course. Just that the king was a useful tool to have in his arsenal, and Alastor would never let him hear the end of it if he fell to danger because of his own ego.
“So are you gonna stare at me all day or…?” Lucifer asked, wiping sweat off his brow.
Alastor wondered how much work it would take to leave an impact on a being older than creation before it the words dawned on him.
“I wasn't staring,” he lied. “Perhaps all the time outdoors is meddling with your sanity.”
Lucifer scoffed. “Hey, I get it, I’m easy on the eyes; but you're embarrassing yourself, bellhop.”
“Host,” he corrected as he left. He usually didn’t mind the heat, but his clothes clung to him awkwardly thanks to the ordeal.
As a purely neutral observation, Alastor would describe Lucifer as attractive. Pretty, even. Byproduct of once being God’s favourite and all that. However, it had never been a topic of discussion between the two, because of course it wasn’t. It was bizarre for him to bring attention to it at all- some harebrained attempt to disorient him, clearly.
It must’ve been a long-con, as well; why else would he have been foolish enough to examine him so blatantly?
Then again, that would require a level of intent and planning he doubted the king possessed.
It was an open secret that Alastor was only at the hotel for Lucifer. Redemption was none of his interest, he played the role of a host when it amused him, and guests knew not to approach Lucifer when he entered the room. The only soul that had yet to get the hint was Lucifer himself, as Alastor made sure of it.
The king didn’t need to know anymore that what he already did, didn’t need to question the ways that Alastor had modified his time to better toy with him.
Like, say, keeping up with his horrendous sleep schedule to mock him for having a horrendous sleep schedule. Due to some combination of depression and not having an actual job at the hotel, the angel woke up at noon at the latest, at which everyone was too busy to give him time of day.
Except Alastor, of course. He stood by the kitchen, watching sinners come and go as he waited for Lucifer to fetch his daily coffee- vanilla with cinnamon and caramel, more of a dessert than anything. Weeks had passed since what could hardly be described as the incident, with the only change being the bouquets adorning the walkway towards Lucifer’s room. Nothing else.
“Morning.” And there it was. On cue, the angel walked in, barely brought into consciousness in that ridiculous robe of his.
“It’s three pm, Lu,” Alastor informed, handing him a mug while drinking from his own.
“Shut up,” he mumbled, downing the beverage at a speed that should’ve scalded his tongue. Unfortunately, he appeared to be unharmed.
A moment passed before the reality of what had happened dawned on the two of them.
Alastor had made Lucifer coffee.
When did he do that?
Why did he do that?
“Did you poison this?” Lucifer asked.
“No,” he confessed. “but I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”
Lucifer waited for an explanation. When it became evident that Alastor didn’t possess one, he took that as a victory.
“So you’re making food for me now- I always knew you’d be useful someday,” he gloated.
The words grinded in Alastor’s head, unearthing memories of other blond, powerful men that thought they were above him due to a status they never worked for. “Good to know I’ve served a purpose to you. That’s all the help is for, isn’t it?”
Lucifer somehow made himself look smaller as he realized what exactly he had said. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Tell me then, how did you mean it?”
“That’s not- I’m not- I’m sorry,” Lucifer settled on. “That was a stupid thing to stay. I’m stupid.”
“That isn’t news.”
“You’re smart, Al,” he went on. “And good at things. And I don’t like you, but I don’t think less of you.”
That was important to know, Alastor supposed. He always had his suspicions of how exactly Lucifer saw him, and at least he could finally cross that little thing off the list. And it would be a cold day in Hell before he ever denied himself of praise.
“I’m smart, am I?”
“Not the point.”
“No, no, I think it very much is,” he teased. “The king of Hell says I have the intelligence and skill to rival all of creation.”
“No I did not. Not even a little bit.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, tensing slightly. “We’re okay, right?”
“For now,” Alastor dismissed. “I will be using this against you in the future, though.”
“That’s fair,” the angel said as he left the room. “Thanks for the coffee, anyway.”
Lucifer could never shake the ailment of being too privileged for his own good, but he at least tried to make an effort. Alastor wasn’t phased by the bare minimum, but the exchange would linger with him for the future.
Alastor’s opinion of Lucifer meant something to the king. That was important to know.
Because of the power it gave him, and nothing else.
More time had passed, and again, nothing worth noting had changed. Life at the hotel moved as usual, and Alastor was still in a better mood than he had been in ages. So much so, that he had even chose to air a decidedly less brutal broadcast of his radio show.
He was halfway through a much-needed break when he was alerted of a new caller. “Well, hello there, wayward soul! Whatever could it be?”
“Al, turn the hold music off. It’s awful.”
“Lucifer, what are regal surprise this is!” he announced, looking over at the whirring record player. “Have you considered turning off your own appliance?”
“I’m not listening to the show- we live on the same floor, red guy. I can hear you. You’re lucky I’m not knocking your door down right now.”
“I’m sure I should be,” he hummed. “But leave my viewers in silence? I could never do such a thing.”
In an instant a new vinyl appeared on the needle, playing a jazz tune that felt both foreign and familiar.
“There. I think you’ll like it,” Lucifer said as he ended the call.
Lucifer thought Alastor would like something, and for whatever reason, the fact made him dizzy. He ended the broadcast early.
“That’s why you changed the music? That shit was awful.”
“You listened to my radio show?”
“Shut up and get to the point already.”
He hadn’t seen Lucifer for the rest of the day, Charlie being just as avoidant. It wasn’t until night fell, where he was still stalking the floors because it wasn’t like the king to be so distant, when he found him
Hunched over, looking over the rubble, staring at nothing in particular and smoking. “Don’t tell Charlie.”
“I wouldn’t advise keeping secrets from your daughter.”
“I’m not taking parenting tips from you.”
They fell into silence. Alastor wanted an explanation for Lucifer’s absence, but knew that the man would never let him hear the end of it if he ever expressed something that could be construed as concern towards him. He just had to find a way to pry the answer out of him-
“Lilith called.”
What?
“What?” he repeated.
“Well, she called Charlie.” as if that cleared up anything at all. “A while ago. She didn’t know how to tell me. Can’t blame her.”
“So she’s returning?” Alastor offered, wrangling his way around control of the exchange.
“I don’t know. Maybe? Does it matter?” Lucifer rambled.
He went on. “She’s okay. She wants to be in Charlie’s life. Maybe mine too? Or I’m just making it about myself? I don’t know. It all feels insane.”
It did. Lilith possibly returning would upheave the landscape of Hell, throwing a wrench into everything he had been planning for years.
And Alastor didn’t care about any of that, because Lilith possibly returning meant that Lucifer would be reunited with his wife.
Why did that concern him?
“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” Lucifer laughed weakly at himself.
“That is how conversations tend to work.”
“Yeah. Thanks, I guess,” the angel rested his head on Alastor’s shoulder, as if forgetting who they both were.
Alastor should’ve been reorganizing. He shouldn’t care. Shouldn’t be so sensitive, shouldn’t let Lucifer hold so much power over him. Shouldn’t be acting like-
Ah. So that was the issue.
“Yeah, I still don’t see how this is my problem,” Vox scoffed. “Sounds more like you just wanted someone to complain about your personal shit- which, by the way, is boring as fuck.”
“Once again, you’re not listening,” Alastor scolded. “Immaturity, attachment, obsession; remind you of anyone?” Getting me to behave as foolishly as you- it’s a creative scheme, I have to admit! Now fix it.”
“What, you think I made you into Lucifer?”
“Pardon?” Alastor asked. “I think that you intervened with my mind. What does romance have to do with anything?”
“It has to do with you being down bad for the king. Thought you had better taste than that,” the other overlord mocked.
“You do understand this would mean you harbored feelings for me, correct?”
Vox stared at him blankly. “Are you stupid?”
Oh.
That was unfortunate. “What exactly do you expect me to say to that?”
“Nothing. You’ve already said enough.” the words were forced out, too much effort put into them to sound casual.
Alastor knew that was true- he would’ve appreciated being he made aware of that earlier. “You never told me.”
“Yeah, because that would’ve gone down great,” Vox rolled his eyes. “Not like I never tried. What did you think the partnership was?”
“Flagrant weakness.”
“In more ways than one.”
Truth be told, Alastor didn’t feel the slightest bit of sympathy for Vox- his feelings were his own to untangle and put to rest. He understood that, therefore, he couldn’t blame Lucifer for not returning his affections.
The fact didn’t do him much good.
“How do I be rid of this?” he managed, already leaving his chair.
“You’re seriously asking me that?” Vox laughed. “Live with it, get over it- I don’t care.”
“But you do.” Because he would if Lucifer did the same to him. “Thanks for the insight, at least.”
“I’m using all of this against you, by the way.”
“I’d respect you even less if you didn’t.”