Chapter Text
Ever since Alastor was a child, he knew the meaning of hard work. His family was poor, he himself mixed blood. His mother had set him down when she knew he was old enough to understand and laid it out for him. “You're a smart boy, Alastor, but life won't be handed to you. You'll have to work for anything that you want,” she had told him, “It's okay to dream and wish, but that will only take you part of the way.”
She had explained that there were other people in life that did have everything handed to them, but to Alastor that sounded like an empty life. He liked the pride he felt when he accomplished something with his bare hands and effort, reveled in the praise he received when he nailed down a new dish and improved upon it. What did it gain to be handed something and not have had to work for it? To earn it? He saw how the rich lived when he went with his mother to the market and even when small, thought they were vapid and empty-headed, worrying their heads over the latest fashions and gossip like hens fighting over grain. Amusing to listen to, but not worth any substance.
And then he met Nifty.
Nifty was the daughter of a rich plantation owner. She was a year or two younger than Alastor and small for her age. They met because Nifty's father had commissioned his mother to make her a new dress for some sort of party or something frivolous, Alastor didn't care to ask. Alastor preferred to cook, but he did like helping his mother with sewing since it got him out of the house when school wasn't in session in the summers. He wasn't fond of running with the gaggle of children in his neighborhood. They were nice and all, but coming home filthy wasn't his cup of tea and it seemed like every time he joined them they were wrestling in the dirt or jumping into a pond fully clothed.
Nifty and her father were the first people from the upper crust that Alastor liked. Mr La Bouff welcomed him warmly as if he were a favored nephew and not the son of a seamstress that he had just met. Nifty took to him right away and once she had sat still long enough for his mother to get the measurements she needed, raced over to Alastor and begged for him to play with her. After getting an encouraging nod from his mother he agreed and let Nifty drag him off to her toys.
Alastor and Nifty became fast friends. Nifty had no problem sharing her toys and shared fairytales with Alastor. The little girl seemed to adore princess stories so Alastor was quick to cook up pretend games where he as a knight would save princess Nifty from whatever plush monstrosity they decided on.
Alastor suspected that Nifty didn't have too many friends because Mr La Bouff seemed to enjoy seeing Alastor and Nifty play or hold tea parties in the gardens because he found every reason to invite him and his mother over on a semi-regular basis. His mother didn't seem to mind and happily took whatever job Mr La Bouff thought up. He paid her very well for her time and also gifted Alastor some cookbooks when he learned of the boy's love of cooking.
As they grew older, Alastor remained very close with the family but he was forced to put some distance between what he and Nifty did. Firstly, he knew they were getting to an age where people would talk about a boy and girl spending so much time together. He wasn't stupid, he knew his being a colored boy was largely overlooked by society because they were children and he was tagging along with his mother.
Secondly, he lost his father pretty early in the Great War so he knew he had to help support his mother so she didn't stress about finances and so he could put every spare cent that didn't go to his mother towards the listing he and his father had scoped out shortly before his father went into the military. It was an old mill and had the bones to become a fabulous restaurant some day.
Alastor was too proud to ask for help from the La Bouffs to secure the place so he started to work once he reached working age. He first took a job helping the La Bouff's cook where he was able to fine tune his cooking skills but didn't stay there too long because Nifty kept coming to visit him and try to get him to come have tea with her instead of working. He didn't want to break his back with manual work like his father had pre-military, so he got some jobs as a waiter and started to learn the customer service side of food.
He had a knack for it, he found. He could remember a whole table’s order without writing it down but still wrote it to be sure he got it right in case some racist prick tried to say he got something wrong. He also seemed to instinctually know when a customer needed something and would be there before they even had to ask. He polished his charm, learned his regulars, and started to flourish. He wasn't daunted by the hard work and instead found it as a challenging game to see how much of a tip he could charm out of a customer.
There were times though, that he didn't try too hard for a tip. He remained pleasant but he didn't like it when some of the voodoo practitioners came in to eat. The one seemed to be fixated on him so Alastor most times would be the epitome of polite and was careful to not accept anything from them. He didn't like that he had the one's attention, his mother warned him that shadow men never had fully pure intentions.
“Come on Alastor, you should take tonight off and come dancing with me,” the shadowman tried one morning as Alastor brought him his coffee and breakfast, “it's Mardi Gras.”
“And Mardi Gras is one of the times I get my best tips, Vincent. Besides, I don't dance,” Alastor replied evenly, tucking his tray under his arm. “I'd rather work and get closer to getting my restaurant.”
“I could easily help you get the rest of what you need,” Vincent offered but pouted slightly when Alastor laughed softly and turned away with a ‘no thanks’ before heading back inside the cafe. Vincent watched Alastor head to the door, shamelessly admiring the view and bristled a bit as a street band passed, one performer towards the back grabbing Alastor into a spin and trying to get him to dance. He was slightly mollified when Alastor managed to slip away from the performer after a moment with a huff, the performer shrugging after a moment and carrying on as Alastor vanished inside.
Vincent's eyes narrowed a little over his coffee cup as he watched the performer amble away. He knew that face but couldn't put a name to it. After a minute, it came to him. That fellow looked like that visiting prince that was supposed to have arrived this morning and that made an idea hatch in his head. Vincent would eat his breakfast (it seemed a sin to let Alastor's cooking go to waste) and then follow. If he couldn't win Alastor over with charm, maybe he could win him over by becoming the most influential and powerful person in the city. And he knew just how to accomplish that particular goal.
…
Lucifer hummed contently as he danced along behind the band he had jumped in with, strumming his little guitar contently. He had only just arrived and he already loved this city. It was so lively and colorful. He had been informed that one of their yearly celebrations was going on and loved the party atmosphere it created.
He had quickly shed his royal clothes for much more comfortable clothing and had jumped in with the band, leaving his handlers scrambling behind him to secure the luggage and get it to where it needed to go as well as not lose sight of him, something that proved futile as he quickly vanished into the crowd. As he moved, he took in the sights. There were all walks of life here he noticed, and what appeared to be multiple cultures represented.
As he passed by a cafe, his mouth watered at the smells coming from it. He'd have to come back later, that food smelled divine. He spotted a waiter outside, having just served a table, and Lucifer's heart lurched a bit. Even the men here were very pretty and he'd love to try out the field before he was forced to settle down. Unable to help himself, he pulled the waiter into a spin and was surprised when the waiter quickly pulled away with a huff. Ah well, he did catch him off guard and he was working so that could explain why he wriggled free so fast. With a small shrug, he took note of the cafe name and carried on with the band. He would definitely have to come back now at some point and maybe try to talk to the waiter and at least learn his name.