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Prompt::Lucifer finds duck eggs and figures out how to hatch them.
Lucifer was giggling. Which was a BAD sound in Alastor’s world. Especially because he happened to be giggling behind the closed door of their closet. “Lucifer,” he lilted, “My love, my morning star…what in the world are you doing?” “Nothing!” frantic shuffling noises, “I’m looking for…cleaning!” “Well,” Alastor drawled, “You will find neither of those things in the closet. Come out now please. Your secrecy is unsettling, and you know how I feel about being left out of the loop…” Lucifer slid out through a crack in the door, “There we go! Got my shoes organized!” He froze at the stupid excuse. He had one pair of shoes and he was wearing them. Crap. Alastor threw his hands up, muttering about not wanting to know, he needed to fix dinner anyway. Lucifer heaved a huge sigh of relief. His secret was safe!
For days now he’d been going in and out of the closet. Sometimes Alastor would stand there, looking at the beam of red light under the crack in the door, the sounds of Lucifer cooing and singing nonsense songs. It was almost enough to make him think that his husband was having an affair. But if he was he was only doing so inside of their closet. Which would be just stupid. The radio demon tried not to let it bother him. It’s not like he thought there was anything nefarious going on. But there was something afoot in their bedroom, and he would not allow himself the luxury of ignorance. So, when Lucifer was off on a lunch date with Charlie, Alastor peeked. He sent his shadow in under the door, Rotsala returning with a grin and mimed flapping wings and rocking motions with his arms. ‘Birds’ It whispered ‘Little. Fluffy. Peep peep qua qua.’ Birds?! Lucifer was hiding BIRDS, risking Ornithosis, Cryptosporidiosis, psittacosis?! No. Absolutely the FUCK not.
He flung the door open, looking at the little heathens in their nest of socks and feathers Lucifer had probably gotten from one of Nifty’s feather dusters. Half shells, pieces that were going to get stuck in their clothes. He snarled, contemplated just throwing the damn things into his bayou, let them test their survival. If they died, food for the alligators. If they lived, pets for Lucifer in the pond. Hell’s Sake. He’d gone soft. A year ago he would have swallowed the damned things whole. Deciding he didn’t want to touch them, he shut the door, took a deep breath. He channeled his voice through hotel radios, “Lucifer, if you are home, please meet me in our office.” If he said ‘in the bedroom’ Angel Dust would have a field day. His husband popped up in a whirl of golden sparkles, “I’m heeeeeere, love! What did…oh no…” Lucifer looked at the open door, the blank look on the Radio Demons’ face. “Now Al,” he started to explain, “You don’t understand! I had to take them. Their mother was killed by a car on earth and the eggs were so close to hatching anyway-” “Just-” Alastor cut him off, sighing through his teeth, trying to keep his voice patient, “Get them out of the hotel. Please. You can keep them in the garden, but keeping ducks in the house is just asking for a mess of sickness.” Lucifer pouted, but made his way to the closet anyway. It made sense. But it made him sad too.
“C’mon guys,” he sighed, “I’ll show you the lily pads in the garden!” He started toward the door but he paused, noting the ducks didn’t follow him all the way. “No no,” he waved his hands, “This way! There’s a nice pond for you!”
Now Lucifer considered himself a patient man. He was rarely possessive, he kept a pretty even temper. But this…betrayal was unexpected…
Instead of following him, the ducklings had gathered around ALASTOR’S FEET, peeping and climbing all over his shoes. “Well done Lucifer,” Alastor drawled, gently pushing one of the little yellow fluffballs off of him with the tip of his cane, “I’ll not have them messing on my shoes. Just get them out.” “I’m TRYING but they’re-” Lucifer froze, hands up by his head, finally deciphering the little peeps and quacks coming from his beloved hatchlings. “Mama Mama Hungry Up Tall Mama” (1)
“ABSOLUTELY NOT, THAT IS ALASTOR, NOT MAMA!” Lucifer’s eye twitched as Alastor looked nearly terrified, “I…beg your pardon??”
“GREAT,” Lucifer pulled his own hair in frustration, “I saved them, sang to them, rotated the eggs, you find them for two minutes and they imprint on YOU?! You’re such an asshole!”
“ME?” Alastor sputtered, “All I did was open the door and ask you to clean up YOUR mess! I had no intention of stealing your little...Bêtes canards!”
Lucifer gasped, “You take that back!” The ducklings got louder, crowding around Alastor as the two argued. He scowled, “Just take the damn things,” he grit through his teeth, “And put them in the pond…”
“I can’t,” Lucifer suddenly looked smug, crossing his arms and leaning on the door, “They’re you’re problem now, y’see…you’re they’re mama now!” Alastor blinked, looking like he’d swallowed a live bee. “I…what the hell are you talking about!” “Oh, you must know something about ducklings from earth,” Lucifer said with false sweetness, “You were the first person they saw…so they think you’re their mama! And that’s exactly what they’re calling you too! So they’re your problem now. You want ‘em in the pond, take them there yourself.”
Alastor looked like he wanted to spit glass in his eye. “Nan tout moun ki pè... ANFÈ (2). Follow me, small ducklings,” he said with false sweetness, looking down as they ran little circles around and between his feet, “To the nice pond we go, far away from my clothing, as you please.” He sounded like a school teacher, herding his students along in a neat little row. Lucifer tried to stay angry but…something about hearing Alastor say “Now now, be careful you’ll fall down the stairs”, watching the radio demon take smaller steps so the little things could keep up… It made his heart swell with fondness. “God I love that cradle-robbing deer,” he sighed.
“Uh boss,” Husker’s voice traveled up the stairs, “Did you know there’s-”
“Not. One. Word.”
Angel snickered, “About the ducks or the fact that they’re following you like you’re their moth-ouch!” Lucifer pretended he hadn’t just thrown a shoe at Angels’ head.
1: I read a fanfic that the Morningstar family can talk to and understand animals. I’ve adopted this.
2: Of all the stupid…FINE. (French creole. Google translate.)