Work Text:
Alastor freezes, taking in the unexpected additions to his bayou. The picnic blanket and basket, the magnolias in bloom, the spill of a recreated Milky Way high above.
“How?”
Lucifer smiles. “Like it? I can’t maintain that sky forever, but I thought for tonight…”
“Yes,” Alastor breathes, realizing he can smell the trees. The nostalgia alone might do him in. He steps forward, enraptured, but hesitates.
“There are no strings,” Lucifer reassures. “We can just be.” He smiles again, arms wide. “Kisses and cuddles are welcome, if you like.”
Alastor would like, tugging Lucifer toward the blanket and the stars.