Chapter Text
The sky of hell was dark crimson. It matched the shades of blood on the streets, illuminated by street lights that flickered like dying fireflies. Neon acid rain stuck out against the fog, shimmering ever so slightly. It dripped off the roof onto the windowsill, and Lucifer watched it idly, listening to the repetitive drip, drip, drip. Despite the rather dull environment outside, the fireplace in front of him provided a warmth that reminded him of sunny days in heaven, when you could physically feel the rays caressing your body. Lucifer sighed deeply and glanced down at his crossed legs. I suppose Alastor’s room is comforting in its own way.
He leaned further against one of the armchairs positioned in front of the fireplace and went still. He was still exhausted, both in mind and body, from finishing the process of healing Alastor’s angelic wound. Such a process had taken hours, mostly completed in silence, which had somehow been more suffocating than being physically choked. Lucifer was feeling the fatigue settling down on him now.
Once he’d waited another five minutes, neck bent at an uncomfortable angle on the seat of the armchair, Lucifer began fidgeting with the bow above his vest. Where is he? Did he try to escape through a window or something? After the last stitch had been applied to Alastor’s wound, the radio demon had abruptly requested to visit his washroom and change out of his bloodied clothes.
And so Lucifer sat, waiting for him to return. He glanced down at the carpet, which was red, of course, and focused on staying awake. Really, he wanted nothing other than to sleep (it was past his bedtime, he was sure) and regain even a fragment of the energy he’d lost, but he needed to tell Alastor a few rules to respect throughout his recovery process.
The faint crackle of the fireplace was all that could be heard on the top level of the hotel, and any noise the rest of the sinners would be making downstairs were drowned out. Even though he was used to it, Lucifer couldn’t decide whether the silence comforted or disturbed him.
After what seemed like hours, but in theory was only a few more minutes, (he didn’t have his phone on him at Alastor’s request, damn it) Alastor emerged from his en suite. Lucifer looked up and got a glimpse of the bathroom behind him, just before he closed the door. The walls were a deep red, with black tiles that came up halfway, contrasted sharply by the acid green embellishments on the sink and countertop. Very 1930’s, and very Alastor, what did I expect?
His thoughts were interrupted as Alastor sat down in the armchair across from him. It only made him seem taller than he was.
“Took you long enough,” Lucifer grumbled, scrambling to sit on the other available chair he had been leaning on. They did the healing process on the floor, so Lucifer had assumed Alastor would come and sit back on the floor. Clearly, he’d gained back some of his dignity and usual arrogance in the bathroom and no longer wanted to appear improper.
Alastor merely smiled (what a fucking suprise). He crossed one leg over the other, and it was then that Lucifer realised he wasn’t wearing his usual attire, rather a pair of modest, long sleeved red silk pyjamas, buttoned up to right under his chin. Small white pinstripes stretched across the fabric, meeting cuffed sleeves at his hands and…slippers, at his feet.
“If you are so inclined as to rudely stare at what I’m wearing, I will be seeing you out, Lucifer.” The use of his name jolted him back to the present, and Lucifer scrambled to find an excuse.
“Uh, no, wasn't staring. Just, uh, well, I’ve never seen you wearing anything else than that red coat, so…” He trailed off at the narrowed eyes in front of him. Okay, okay, clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Well fuck, what could I have said? He’d get pissed at me either way.
“We’re getting distracted!” He babbled. “I only stayed here to give you some ground rules for your recovery.” He could have sworn something in Alastor’s face changed at his words. He looked almost…dissapointed? Whatever, it's not my problem.
“Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. In order for you to recover completely, your magic is off limits. That includes your creepy shadow things.” Alastor’s eyes narrowed further at the nickname. “No controlling them, you hear me? Using your demonic energy, even for small, insignificant tasks like that will enrage the trapped angelic energy and a war will start in your body.”
There was a long silence, in which the radio demon pondered about what had just been said. After a solid minute of contemplating, he finally settled on,
“Is that absolutely necessary? I will be unable to protect the hotel like usual.” Lucifer sighed.
“You have been unable to protect the hotel like usual since you got this injury over a month ago, and look who you’re sitting in front of! I’m the king of hell! You think I can’t protect the hotel to the same level that you do?”
The silence he received was his answer.
“Okay, I see how it is, red guy.” He deadpanned. “Look, it’ll only be for one or two weeks max. The angelic power I’ve put into your body needs time to remove the other angelic power from Adam, and using any form of demonic power will significantly set back that progress, it’s all complicated, but you can trust me. I know what I’m doing more than you and this is what’s best!”
When Alastor continued to stare at him, still not muttering a single word, Lucifer grumbled something under his breath and got to his feet. The fucking audacity! To ignore the king of hell when being directly addressed! When he approached the armchair Alastor was sitting in, they were roughly the same height, Lucifer perhaps a little taller. He matched Alastor’s hostile expression and got close enough that he could see his reflection in the monocle on his cheek.
“Listen.” He said quietly, threateningly, jabbing a finger right into the deer's chest. “If you use magic, I will have to heal you again.” When Alastor barely stiffened, he moved even closer.
“I do not have enough energy to heal you again for a good while. You think this was tiring for you? It was fucking exhausting for me.” He could feel flames at the tip of his tongue. “If you want the hotel protected, let me use my energy on that and not healing a selfish, stubborn fucking deer who doesn’t care about-”
Alastor grabbed his arm that wasn’t poking him.
“I understand.” He spoke through gritted teeth, smile sharper and more terrifying than ever (but Lucifer would never admit that).
“And I’d appreciate it if you got off me.” Lucifer glanced down in confusion and his eyes widened.
How the fuck- one of his knees had found its way onto the armchair, and his hand that wasn’t touching Alastor’s chest was placed sturdily against the velvet backrest, right next to Alastor’s head…he was suddenly hyperaware of their close proximity. He could see the imperfections in Alastor’s winged eyeliner, his slight eyebags, and the way his dilated pupils flitted around the room in a manner that could only be described as anxious.
Lucifer immediately stepped backwards, like he was touching the plague itself. His face felt warm, and it only got hotter as he fumbled to find an excuse.
“I, I’m sorry. Got carried away there, it’s just, uh, really important you listen to what I was saying, and you-”
Alastor let go of his arm. His face had snapped back to its composed expression so quickly, it was hard to think there had ever been a hint of nervousness there.
“My apologies for making it seem as though I wasn’t paying attention. I will cease to use my magic throughout the upcoming weeks. You have my word.”
Lucifer sighed. So it just took a little bit of intimidation.
“Alright.” He stood awkwardly between the two armchairs, unsure whether he wanted to sit back down or exit the room. It felt a bit weird to leave now, with the unresolved tension hanging in the air. However, Lucifer couldn’t see a reason to stay; everything was taken care of now.
“Uh, okay, I’ll be taking my leave then. If I catch you using any magic that isn’t absolutely necessary, there will be consequences!” He began walking towards the door, until another thought entered his mind.
Lucifer paused. Did he have to make this offer aloud, or could he let it remain unspoken and implied? He’d already done so much for the radio demon today, spent hours and plenty of energy on healing his wound. Been patient, when Alastor didn’t want to remove his shirt. Ignored the winces that snuck out of his tough exterior every now and again. I’ve done him a favour he likely won’t ever be able to repay. He glanced at his hand on the doorknob. He could easily just leave, and that would be the end of it, but-
Oh, this is bullshit. I’m making a small offer, I don’t need to overthink anything. Lucifer turned back to face Alastor, one hand still resting on the doorknob.
“If you need any assistance…I mean, I don’t know how much you rely on your magic, but…” He swallowed. Alastor looked kind of shocked, and that was an emotion he didn’t show often, if ever. It was kind of funny, and it gave Lucifer the motivation to finish speaking.
“I can help you with tasks you would normally use your magic for. If you want. Just, uh, come fetch me, or whatever.”
His words were followed by a few moments of silence until Alastor spoke.
“Your offer has been noted, your highness. I will keep that in mind.”
He sounded…and you’d really have to hear Lucifer out on this one, but he was certain that the sinner sounded…grateful.
And then, just as he turned away, Alastor had to go say something else.
“Do not worry about preparing breakfast tomorrow morning, despite what it says on the roster. I can handle it. Take it upon yourself to rest. Your services today…were greatly appreciated.”
What the fuck. Was there a fucking shapeshifter in this room? That was not Alastor. Lucifer looked down and turned quickly to make his leave, twisting the doorknob and pulling open the door with a bit more force than intended.
“ ‘Course. Any time. Thank you. Uh, goodnight.” He spared one last glance into the room, refusing to meet the eyes of the radio demon, before darting out into the hallway. Once the door had shut behind him, he allowed himself to let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
Fuck. Every ounce of energy had left his body and now that adrenaline was no longer creating a shell of it, Lucifer could barley keep his fucking eyes open. With another sigh, he began trudging towards his room, trying to stay upright.
The second he reached his bed, Lucifer collapsed. He didn’t bother to get changed, didn’t bother to pull his blankets around him, didn’t bother to turn off his ducky night light. The king of hell was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
And he slept for a long time.