Chapter Text
The kitchen lights were on again. Lucifer stood in the doorway for a few seconds longer than he needed to, staring at them like they had personally chosen to ruin his evening.
He was certain he had turned them off.
He remembered turning them off.
Which meant either his room was broken, someone was messing with him, or reality itself had developed a sense of humor against him.
He sighed and stepped inside anyway.
His kitchen was always too clean. Too polished. Too perfect in a way that never quite matched the rest of Hell. It was the kind of room that pretended nothing bad ever happened in it, which in Lucifer’s experience usually meant the opposite was true. Even though he didn't quite use his own kitchen, he would sometimes wake up at night wanting something to drink. But most of the time he used the hotel's kitchen just because Charlie asked him to.
He crossed his arms loosely and walked toward the counter. “Might aswell just turn these off…” he muttered.
From somewhere behind him, a creppy voice replied immediately.
“I do hope you’re not talking to yourself, Your Majesty. It’s generally considered the first sign of boredom.”
Lucifer didn’t turn right away. That was the first rule. Never give Alastor immediate satisfaction.
Instead, he exhaled slowly through his nose and turned his head just enough to acknowledge the person behind him.
Alastor was sitting on the kitchen counter like it belonged to him. One leg crossed over the other, cane resting loosely in his hand, posture relaxed in a way that suggested he had never once asked permission to exist anywhere in his life.
His smile was exactly the same as always, and Lucifer hated how consistent it was.
“You’re in my kitchen,” Lucifer said. Alastor tilted his head slightly.
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then, pleasantly: “How unfortunate for the kitchen.”
Lucifer stared at him for a second, then walked further in, pulling a glass from the cabinet. He filled it with water without breaking eye contact.
“You don’t enter rooms normally,” Lucifer said.
“I find normal entrances lack charm.”
“You don’t need charm in my room.”
“That sounds restrictive.”
“That sounds like a boundary.”
Alastor’s smile widened a fraction. “In Hell, those are often the same thing.” Lucifer took a sip of water, then leaned against the counter with his glass that was cold in his hand.
“You’ve been doing that more often,” he said.
“Doing what?”
“Showing up.”
Alastor hummed softly, as if considering the word.
“Have I?”
“Yes.”
“Strange. I thought I had been quite discreet.”
Lucifer gave him a flat look. “You’re not.” Alastor didn’t respond immediately, which was more interesting than if he had. Lucifer continued anyway. “You’ve been around the hotel more. Around me more. It’s noticeable.”
Alastor’s eyes flicked toward him for just a moment. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“And does it bother you?”
Lucifer paused, that was the wrong question. Not dangerous. Not hostile.
Worse. Personal.
Lucifer straightened slightly. “No. It’s just annoying.”
“Ah,” Alastor said softly. “Annoying.”
“As in,” Lucifer added, “you are annoying.”
“If you think so.”
The silence that followed was not uncomfortable exactly. It was just dense, like the air had become slightly too aware of itself. Lucifer glanced away first, which he immediately seemed irritated by. Alastor noticed, of course.
He always noticed.
“You’re different when it’s quiet,” Alastor said suddenly. Lucifer froze slightly. “I’m always the same."
“No,” Alastor said, calm and certain. “You’re not.”
Lucifer’s grip tightened slightly on the glass, almost crushing it. “What does that mean?”
Alastor shrugged lightly. “Only an observation.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
Lucifer stared at him for a moment longer than necessary.
Alastor sat still, perfectly composed, like he had not just said something that should have meant more than it did. That was the problem with him.
Nothing he said ever came with obvious intent.
Lucifer set the glass down on the counter a little harder than intended. “You always do this,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Appear. Observe. Comment. Then vanish like it means nothing.”
Alastor’s smile didn’t change. “Perhaps it does mean nothing.”
“That’s not convincing.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
Lucifer exhaled through his nose again. “Why are you here?” Alastor leaned back slightly against the counter, cane tapping once against the tile before stopping.
“Must there always be a reason?”
“Yes.”
“What a shame,” Alastor replied.
Lucifer stared at him for a moment, then gestured vaguely at the room. “This is not your room, im sure you noticed it.”
“It is now and then,” Alastor said lightly. “When I pass through.”
“You pass through too often.”
“Do I?”
“Yes, almost every fucking night. The same thing on and on.”
Alastor’s head tilted slightly. “And you’ve kept track?”
That made Lucifer pause.
Just for a fraction of a second.
Then he frowned. “No.” he said, looking away.
A soft and low chuckle was heard.
“You are observant for someone who claims not to care,” Alastor said.
Lucifer’s expression tightened. “I do not care in the slightest, believem me. ” He said , making eye contact with alastor.
“Of course not.”
Another silence settled.
Lucifer leaned back again, crossing his arms loosely. “You’re not supposed to be predictable.”
Alastor looked at him. “Am I predictable?”
“Yes.”
That answer seemed to land differently than the others. Alastor didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, he studied Lucifer like he always did. Not in the usual way. Not mockery. Not performance.
Just watching.
Like he was adjusting a theory. Then he smiled again, just slightly sharper at the edges. “Then you must be paying more attention than most.”
Lucifer looked away again.
He did not like that.
Not the sentence.
Not the implication.
Not the fact that Alastor said it like it mattered.
The kitchen felt too quiet again.
Lucifer pushed off the counter. “You should leave.”
“I could,” Alastor said.
“But you won’t.” Lucifer replied.
A pause.
“No,” Alastor agreed. “I won’t.”
That was honest.
Lucifer hated that more than anything. Still, Alastor slid off the counter with quiet ease, landing without sound. His cane tapped once against the floor.
“I suppose I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he said.
“You had no welcome from the beginning” Lucifer corrected.
“Semantics.”
Lucifer walked toward the door of the kitchen, expecting Alastor to follow or disappear like he usually did. But he didn’t move immediately,he lingered just long enough for Lucifer to notice. Just long enough to be deliberate.
Then, casually:
“You always leave the kitchen lights on after I visit.”
Lucifer stopped and slowly turned his head to alastor.
“…What?”
But Alastor had already disappeared. No dramatic exit. No sound. No echo. Just absence.
Lucifer stood still in the kitchen for a long moment. Then he looked around slowly. The lights were still on. He frowned.
“…I never did that” he said to no one.
The kitchen did not respond, of course.
Lucifer turned off the lights anyway. Then paused. Forgetting what hour it was, he let the lights on and stood there a little longer than he meant to.
"Fuck.."