Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There had been a short moment at the very beginning of things when there had only been one thing to know:

Let there be light.

The voice of God had commanded it, and then there was Light. Easy as that.

God had asked and Lucifer was. 

Lucifer’s siblings were still being waited for and so for the first beats of Lucifer’s existence it was just him and his Creator, only the warmth and comfort emitted by his Father, His form illuminated by Lucifer’s glow. 

It had been incredibly simple, another one of those easy things, to love his Father.

Lucifer had been created for a specific, eager purpose. A sentence in a poem, a cog in a machine, for a complicated but neatly mapped out plan.

Of course, as most know the story goes, he had failed that purpose. Completely sidestepped, squashed and imploded it. Such a strange thing, something that was created to perform and comply its creator refusing. When Lucifer betrayed Him (his parent, his God, his purpose) and his design he thereby forfeited the life he knew and was meant to live out. A puppet with its strings cut, a dog without a leash.

But when something falls something rises, and Lilith rose like a north star, a shining, guiding light in darkness. She was his heart hominum; beating stubbornly and blood red in his chest. There wasn’t a single life or plan where Lucifer would not do anything in his power and lose everything he had to be in her field of gravity, orbiting her like a moon. He had chosen his purpose, attached all his cut strings to her and let her have them. Sometimes it got difficult to tell where he ended and she began.

Roughly 99800 years into their exile a small spark turned into a second light, and Lucifer got gifted a new tether, a shimmering lifeline.

Charlie was the best thing created in Hell, Earth and Heaven. Lucifer could never quite coalesce the fact he had had a part in her creation, a hand in it. The thought shook him, made his world tilt slightly.

If Charlie was pure sunshine, her father was a supernova, collapsing in on itself and taking its sweet time about it. He knew this, no matter how much Charlie seemed to mistake his light for the same as hers. She would reach out, and though it felt unnatural and bitter and like he was laying knots in the umbilical cord, he would step back. Lucifer felt half unreal most of the time, discorporated and fuzzy around the edges. Something that could rub off. He was more than happy to let Charlie imagine their fire the same, no matter how selfish that made him.

And then Lilith disappeared. Not a trace, barely a word; a whisper on a breeze. Lucifer stood completely unmoored for the first time in his long, unbearably long existence. Swallowed absolutely by the expansive emptiness of the yawning universe.

He would know.
It had been the first thing he had encountered when Father had pulled him into being from the nothingness. Unblinking and gaunt it stared back at him. The first thing Lucifer ever felt was fear. The second had been his Father, pulling him away from it.

With Lilith gone the fear was seeping out of his bedroom ceiling, syrupy and dark. When Lucifer had stopped going to bed it followed on his heel. He could feel it watching him, hungry like it had been in his first seconds of existence. Prowling for what it thought it was owed and somewhere along the line, a few years after Lilith’s disappearance, Lucifer could admit to himself that he had known that this was where he would end up all along. Alive to see it. In the jaws of it. 

The Lightbringer would lose to the encroaching abyss in the end; light would be swallowed by the ever-expanding darkness. This had been in the cards from the start, this Lucifer knew. Fate preferred circular storytelling.

So, admittedly, Lucifer hadn’t been doing great there, for a while, having a staring contest with the void, its jaws hanging open and hungry like a wolf in winter.

Enter stage right: Charlie. Quite suddenly. A strong tug on a thread Lucifer had refused (or failed) to hold on to. She tugged him away, away from the chasm, because she had the right, and she was the last one around, and just like that, he was in orbit again. A moon happy to be dancing around a planet.

Charlie had grown bright, brighter than he had ever thought possible, with dreams that reminded him so much of his own failings being around her felt like burning.

After witnessing Heaven’s annual reminder, after seeing the man he had detested for ten thousand years perish in the dust of his domain, he uncurled his fingers from his fists and wiped away his daughter’s tears. 

Charlie had caught his hand, pulled her thread, and secured it close to her. A second chance he didn’t deserve, was terrified of, but selfishly couldn’t refuse.

After, Lucifer had curled his fingers back so tightly his nails pierced skin and he made himself bleed bleed bleed a rosegold for what felt like hours. Half a nauseating reminder of the home that kicked him out, half a reminded of his heart, of Lilith. 

And then time did as time does and through its passing Charlie seemed happy to see him most days. Sought him out to see him work on her hotel, asked him questions. It felt like shaking off cobwebs. It felt like trying to fly without wings.

He put himself to work. He poured into the hotel like he hadn’t been able to muster for other projects for, well, the better part of a decade. Maybe more. Lucifer had never had the best grasp on time, not like other beings seemed to have, finicky and fluid as it was, it tended to elude him with ease. It was remedial creation, every move of his hands, every design created out of nothing.

It seemed like he had forgotten, somewhere along the way, the cause and effect of creation, of working something into existence. Lucifer felt grabbed by it, completely head-underwater for something he once knew like breathing.

Funny thing about that is, though, that while he was shaking off the cobwebs and dust, he couldn’t actually stop shaking.

Lucifer raised his hand slightly, trying to glance at it without anyone, but especially Charlie, noticing. It trembled in the air just like last time and the time before that. Lucifer quickly lowered it to his lap, braiding his fingers together. They couldn’t shake when trapped! When it had started he had assumed it had something to do with all of the energy leaving through his hands. His body, a vessel and conduit in most senses of the words, was being put to work in a way it hadn’t been for years. This force, starting in his chest and propelled out of his body with the flick of a wrist or the fluttering of fingers to settle into new creations for the past few… weeks (?) must have left a residue, an energy that shook and tingled. 

Not that Lucifer remembered his hands shaking when he had put the stars in their place or dragged light from pole to pole. His body kept surprising him even after the eons they had spent together. Still, not the worst curveball he’d been thrown by the thing. The shaking was only slightly annoying when working and only inconvenient because there were people to see it, it was nothing to pay more mind to than that.

Speaking of paying mind, Charlie had been in the business of moving her mouth for an alarming amount of time. 

“… is why I was thinking…”

Her voice was bright; like birdsong, like bells, and Lucifer tried to let it pierce the droning buzz in his mind.

“… a reading room… the second floor… leak…”

Lucifer blinked at his daughter, desperately trying to will away the dust gathering in the corners of his vision, the static in his ears. He wasn’t sure what to blame specifaclly for his absentmindedness this time. Though it could also have something to do with that damned Alastor and his insufferable radio shtick sitting in the chair next to him. Legs crossed and back ramrod straight, not even touching the back of his chair, ever-present smile plastered on his face, obtrusive like a billboard. There was only a slight pinch in the corner of his eye that betrayed either some weariness or annoyance. Lucifer didn’t care to investigate further.

“… room on the first floor… books and they have…. a lot!”

Lucifer pressed his nails into the palms of his hand, ten little pinpricks to take him to the ground.

Charlie, his beautiful, smart, driven daughter was putting forward her plans to him, her plans for her dream. And Al. Because they were co-hoteliers, or whatever Charlie had come up with to appease the Radio Bore. Lucifer honestly thought Charlie was being too altruistic, Alastor should be happy Charlie was keeping him around even though he had practically become obsolete the moment Lucifer joined the hotel staff. Working for his girl; he felt so proud he could feel it squeeze in his chest.

Charlie clapped her hands. Uh oh.

“So! What do you think?”

Charlie gestured at the scribbles and drawings she had laid out on the table in front of them, blueprints and notes illegible to anyone that had not been paying attention during her pitch. Charlie, bless her heart, had neither inherited Lilith’s neat, precise handwriting or Lucifer’s affinity for drawing. 

In his defense, he wasn’t always this bad at keeping up, he’d just been a bit…

Lucifer turned to Alastor and Alastor turned to him, grin wide and eyes gleaming. He curled a spindly hand in the air, gesturing for Lucifer to take the stage, creating a silence for him to fill. Charlie probably thought he was being polite. He didn’t even need to speak to drive Lucifer up the wall.

“Right.” Lucifer eyed the table, desperately looking for cues. Oh, he had known today was going to be bad the moment he woke up.

Charlie smiled at him, eyes bright.

“I think it’s great, Char,” he said, voice all warm in his throat because it was true, whatever she had come up with for this hotel, it was wonderful.

Charlie preened. “I’m so glad you do, dad.”

Alastor shifted next to him, uncrossing his legs only to cross them the other way around.

“Really,” he purred through the static, “so what did you think of her idea to put the library on the first floor, west wing?”

Lucifer frowns at him, trying to recall what this meant, what Alastor was playing at.

“Not ringing a bell?”

Lucifer took too long.

Alastor tutted. He turned to face Charlie, who had pressed her lips together in a thin line, and clasped his hands politely on his knee.

“Because I, personally, dear, would like to point out that while there is enough space for your creative little plan, it is narrow.” He pointed his cane at one of the near-indecipherable blueprints. 

Charlie’s eyes were wide and her mouth opened in a gentle ‘oh’.

“We’d have to put your bookshelves all along exterior walls,” Alastor continued, leaning over the table, tiptoeing his fingers over the line that was apparently representing an exterior wall, “where they may experience changes in temperature and,” he looked at Lucifer from the corner of his eye, “humidity.”

“Ah, I see,” Charlie brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks reddening a little, and that wasn’t right at all, Charlie should never feel embarrassed, not for having ideas.

Here she was, making drawings and blueprints and presentations, pouring her heart into this selfless, daring project and she was being made to feel wrong by some low-life, haughty, conniving-

 “-you for, Alastor,” Charlie smiled at the sinner, before turning to Lucifer.

Her lips were moving.

Tune in tune in tuneintuneintunein-

Lucifer pulled up the corners of his mouth, desperately searching her face for clues, coughing into his hand when he didn’t find any. Charlie just waited.

“Sorry, Char, uh, your old man’s hearing isn’t what it used to be, care to repeat that?”

Charlie’s eye twitched. Ah, how unfortunately familiar. 

“Dad,” she clapped her hand together in front of her, a little explosion of noise. Lucifer blinked at it. “What do you think about this?”

“Ah! Well, I think Mr. Wisenheimer needs to pipe down and let me create whatever your heart desires for your hotel. I’m sure we’ll figure it out fine without him.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. Alastor’s expression remained firmly pleased. Lucifer only had a second to ponder that.

Charlie groaned, deep and undeniably frustrated; a hair-tugging kind of groan. “No, dad, that’s not- Just listen for a second.”

Lucifer stilled at the command, the blood in his fingers prickling.

“Alastor is helping me. I asked him for his opinion because I wanted his opinion. Do you think I can do everything by myself?”

Lucifer did catch that, for all the things he let slip past him like strange winds, he did catch Charlie sharp exasperation. Her thorn, clear in her face even as she tried to tamp it down, brushing a blonde lock from her face and taking a breath.

“This is why Alastor is my hotelier, dad. I rely on him because he’s good at what he does and gives it to me straight. I would- I need you to at least try to get along if you’re here, because Alastor has been such a massive help and I really meant it when I said I couldn’t do this without him and I-”

“I can help!” Lucifer interrupted as stress lines appeared next to his daughter’s eyes, between her brows. “I can, I’m-” His heart was beating quite fast. He swallowed it down. He needed to actually help. “I apologize, Charlie.”

And just like that, because Charlie gives too much of everything and is happy to take far too little, the lines on her face gently melted away against the warmth of her smile. Small and a little sad, but sunshine nonetheless.

“Thank you, dad,” she absolved him after a soft sigh.

Lucifer kept his eyes fixed on her, didn’t even glance at the demon sitting next to him. He tried to dredge something. He straightened his spine, showed his teeth and wrung his hands together for good measure.

“So, how can I redeem myself, huh?” He winked at Charlie. “Just tell me what I can do and I’ll do it.”

Charlie’s eyes flicked to Alastor and back to him, before steeling herself. “Well, dad… I think it would actually be a good idea to help Alastor with the library.”

The radio skipped a station and Lucifer couldn’t help but silently agree.

“Because Alastor is good at planning these things,” she continued, “and he knows all about what works and what doesn’t and you are so creative! Plus, you have enough books back home to fill the whole thing with. Uhm, if you don’t mind lending some of your books, of course.”

Lucifer actually did mind the idea of having to lend out the equivalent of ten libraries of Alexandria to random sinners but he felt that wasn’t the hurdle to stumble over now. There were a few other ones he worth tripping over first.

“Charlotte, darling-” he started, before getting interrupted.

“Now, there’s no reason to keep your father away from all of his other pressing duties. I can assure you I can handle this little passion project fine by myself.”

Protest appreciated, but Lucifer could see his daughter's smile turn tight and determined and, well, best to just resign himself to it all now.

“I think it would be good for you to work on it together, you know, for your personal growth. Neither of you have been participating in the craft sessions or the general psych classes- or any of the other exercises we’ve been working on for that matter.”

Lucifer tried to interrupt her but she held up a hand.

“Which is fine, I know neither of you are here for redemption, but this hotel is about bettering yourself, no matter who you are.” She slammed a fist in her palm, face alight with resolve. “You’re both working here and I need you two to learn how to get along well enough to do that. This is my hotel and… I’m asking nicely.”

Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek, truly and utterly defeated and nodded before Alastor could, beating him to the punch and knowing his co-hotelier couldn’t say no if he’d already acquiesced.

“You’re right, Char,” he tried not to sigh. “We’ll…,” he glanced at Alastor whose eyes were narrowed above his seemingly agreeable smile, “work it out.”

Charlie beamed at him and did the same for Alastor when he inevitably had to accede as well. His daughter was akin to a steamroller. She concluded their talk with a million thank you’s and slamming her binder closed with finality. Lucifer made to stand and follow Alastor out the door when Charlie held up a hand. He blinked owlishly at it.

“Oh, yeah, uhm. Dad, could you stay for a moment?”

Lucifer hoped Charlie couldn’t see him tense slightly. As much as he wanted to have a moment with his daughter without the Alastor breathing down his neck, this felt suspiciously like the dawn of a talking to. Lucifer sat back down, colliding with the soft back of the chair.

“Yeah, of course, Char.”

Alastor walked out of the room, prim and proper and grinning over his shoulder behind Charlie’s back. Asshole.

She laughed nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear again and, really, Lucifer did not need his daughter nervous to be talking to him, really, really did not need that.

“So, what do you need?” he asked, trying to melt his edges and make his voice warm as possible.

Charlie sat back down on her side of the desk. “I don’t need anything, dad, just wanted to talk for a moment.”

“Okay!” Lucifer replied in a totally normal and regular tone of voice. “Is there- what… Uhm.” He wrung his hands before remembering that he’d been doing that too much and dropped them under the table. He didn’t remember when that had become a habit, couldn’t recall doing it often when he had been a few millennia younger, at least. He’d have to ask Lil- never mind. 

Charlie tugged at her fingers. Well, he probably gave her the bad habit, so he must have started at least somewhere in the last two hundred years.

“Yes, uhm,” she hesitated. “Would you like another cup of tea?” She grabbed the pot from the edge of the desk and held it in front of her like a shield.

He nodded stiffly. “Thank you, dear.”

A conversation that begged for a refill it seemed.

“You’re welcome!”

Charlie filled her own cup too, careful and slow, the way she used to do when she had been a child. Lucifer could practically see that version in front of him now, a young princess in sparkling purple dresses ordering her parents around as she hosted her afternoon teas. He took the freshly poured mug between his hands. Lucifer was a bit of a sap when it came to things like this, that he knew, and he couldn’t help himself. 

“Hey, Char?”

She looked up.

“Remember when you were little, and you’d drag your mother and me away for tea and pastries?”

Charlie looked a little surprised before she smiled sheepishly while putting down the teapot. Some of the worried edges melted away and it spurred him on to continue.

“And you’d instruct us how to do it properly, like from the books you read?”

“Hah, yeah, I remember those.”

Lucifer relaxed his shoulders, genuinely tickled by the memory. “You used to call it ‘playing princess’, as if you weren’t already one.”

Charlie huffed, tilting her head. “No, I called it ‘playing princess’ because we would all be princesses.”

Lucifer hummed. “Yes, I remember you doing my hair, it took an hour to get it all untangled.”

Charlie laughed at that, a bright chirp followed with an unabashed snort. “Was that the same day mom and I took so long doing your make-up you fell asleep?”

Lucifer chuckled, the almost forgotten memory pried from a dusty filing cabinet somewhere in his head. “Ah, yes.” 

He looked down into his cup, visions of Charlie, young and soft, sitting on his lap, staring at his face with utter determination and focus, wielding a kohl pencil like a weapon. Lilith behind her and shining and exuding mirth, her own make-up a mess, previous victim of their aspiring make-up artist.

“I remember,” Lucifer said, tender like a bruise. In the steam coming from the cup he tried to let the memories remain soft and kind, to not let himself drag them into something other than a balm.

Charlie, kind and sweet as a rose, smiled like she understood and wrapped a hand over his for a second or two, just to share the silence. Lucifer breathed deeply, once, in and out and everything.

“What is it, Char, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

Charlie sighed and sat back, smile turning slightly apologetic.

“Right. So, first, I wanted to thank you. You’ve been working hard on the hotel, with the renovations and all my plans and everyone’s wishes,” she listed, and Lucifer couldn’t help but puff his chest a little, preening at being found of use. 

“And you moved in as well!” Charlie continues, “And I really, really appreciate that, dad, and I know you keep saying that it’s nothing and you like doing it and stuff, but…”

‘But.’

Any relaxed contentment that Lucifer had let settle over himself so luxuriously seeped away like smoke. He squeezed the mug, willing his hands to stay still.

“Ah, because I do, Charlie,” he tried to save, “Anything you want you can ask for, your dad’s here to provide.”

Charlie tapped the table with her nails. “I know, and you’ve really been such a help with all the chaos and the renovations.”

This sounded like someone being let down gently, right? This sounded like the bread of the compliment and criticism sandwich Charlie had made a poster of and which was hanging so proudly in the middle of the hotel lobby. The tea in his mug started rippling. Cup on table and hands in his lap it was.

Charlie babbled on. “But I mean… It’s just been…” She picks at her nails, gaze lowering.

And of course Charlie would have trouble with it, wonderful, empathetic Charlie. Of course she would have a hard time showing her old man the door, no matter how he fell short. And Lucifer, selfish, clinging Lucifer, wanted to interject, wanted to come up with any reason he should stay close, deserved to be in her orbit.

He opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t come up with anything. It almost knocked the breath out of him.

Charlie visibly steeled herself and Lucifer’s nails found his wrists, digging into himself just to stop himself from bolting. He owed her that. He could get weird about things when he got back to the palace.

“It’s just been… So wonderful to have you around. But I know it must be a lot, I… I talked to Vaggie about it, which I should’ve done earlier, really,” she half mumbled, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers, “and I- I didn’t realize, I guess I hadn’t even thought about it with how hectic all of it has been and everything that needed to be done…”

Charlie rambled on and Lucifer couldn’t for the life of him determine in what layer of the compliment sandwich they were right now.

It made him desperate enough to say, “It’s not a lot!”

Which was a lie, every day felt entirely too much of everything, but wasn’t that kind of a given when one went from a decade of self-imposed hermitage to everything; loud and bright and full? It was momentary, an adjustment period, something to just bite through.

Besides even if it didn’t get better, he’d still take it.

Charlie just chuckled. “Dad, it’s okay if it has been. I think it’s been a lot for everyone.”

Lucifer angled his fingers to feel something sharp, to keep tethered to something while Charlie was waving a pair of proverbial scissors around. 

“What I mean to say is,” she sighed, frustrated with herself or him, Lucifer couldn’t tell, “I really enjoy having you around, it feels- it just feels right.”

Lucifer stilled, trying to wrap his head around her words and their meaning.

“But I can also imagine that it’s quite a lot, moving into the hotel just because I asked you to, dropping everything for my dream, I mean…” She looked at him through her fringe, voice a little smaller. “I can tell you’re tired, sometimes. And the other residents would love to get to know you better now that you’re staying here.”

Staying here. Staying at the hotel, staying close to Charlie.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’ve been a little unfair. I’ve been so focused on the hotel and the rebuilding and getting everything right that I’ve been asking too much of you.”

What?

“You- You haven’t been unfair, Charlie,” he was quick to correct, and Charlie just sighed with a smile.

“That doesn’t matter, dad, I just mean to say that I think it’s a good idea to take it a little easier the next few days. Your to-do list is hereby cleared.”

“What?”

“And I know how you are,” she waved a hand and Lucifer followed the nonchalant rise and fall of her fingers, “so don’t see it as a break break, you don’t have to sit still. That’s why I thought working on the library with Alastor would be a good idea. It’s creative, social,” she counts on her fingers, “and there’s no rush, it’s just something extra for the hotel. Something fun. No pressure.”

Lucifer was quick to nod, trying to keep up and ignoring the tingling in his fingertips.

“And I know Alastor isn’t your favorite person in the world, but he’s a good at what he does, and he’s been with me since the start of this hotel, so it’s kind of important to me. He isn’t… he’s a character but he’s helped me so much. Maybe this could be a chance to warm up to each other?”

Lucifer doubted it, Lucifer really, really doubted that him building a library with Alastor would do anyone any good, or if there would even be a library to show for at the end of it. But he had promised to support his daughter, had told her time and time again, anything she wants, it’s hers. And what she wanted right now was for him to put in some effort with one of the sinners she had collected. Yes, the worst one of the bunch by far, but at least ‘getting to know the other residents’ would be a walk in the park after surviving Alastor. Hopefully. He could do that. He could earn his place.

“You want me to…” he started, wanting to get it right, “work on the library with Alastor and socialize with… your friends.”

It made sense, of course it made sense, and he had been too blind to see it. He was her father, his actions reflected onto her as well. These people were her friends and more than that, she had a vested interest in keeping up good appearances for them.

“Yes! No!- I mean, I want you to take it easy and see the library as a fun project! You can work on it if you feel like it.”

Lucifer reckoned that he could have it done in about two days, if his co-hotelier stayed out of the way.

“And then maybe spend some time getting to know the others.” She frowned a little, faltering at her father’s lack of proper reaction.

“I mean,” she looked at him carefully, “if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. You can-”

“No!” Lucifer threw up his hands. “It’s not- I can do that.”

Charlie reeled back a slightly, looking a little pained. “Dad, I’m not- What the fuck!?” Charlie exclaimed, shooting up from her chair mid-sentence. “You’re bleeding!”

And it wasn’t an accusation, and Lucifer didn’t even truly understand what was happening yet, hand on heart, but the first thing he did was shove his hands under the table. 

“I’m not!”

Which was a little silly to say, in retrospect, rose-golden droplets of ichor sailing through the air at sudden his movements.

She was on his side of the desk in a heartbeat, tugging at one of his elbows.

“Charlie, I’m- I’m fine- I-”

He was staining his pants.

“Are you okay? When did this happen?” Charlie’s words came out in a quick, breathless succession. “What- Did you just do that?”

Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, he hadn’t even noticed.

“No! I’m- I didn’t mean-”

Charlie wrenched his hand from his lap and flipped it over; the angry, golden lines on his wrist playing tattletales. It looked worse than it was.

“What- What were you doing!?”

Charlie seemed besides herself and Lucifer could hardly breathe.

“Charlie, dear, I- it’s fine, it will heal in a second-”

“While we were talking?”

Her voice wobbled and broke on the last work, incredulous and horrified. Lucifer didn’t know what to say, any voice or breath halted in his throat.

Apologize, he should apologize.

He healed himself instead. The gaps mended, leaving behind a charcoal-colored canvas for leftover angelic blood to trail curlicues over. His fingers twitched for his handkerchief, but Charlie was still holding his hand, was still looking at him like he was breaking her heart.

“Oh, golly,” Lucifer gasped, horrified at seeing his own hand tremble in his daughter's grasp, “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Charlie tightened her grip on his hand. “Dad.”

Lucifer felt a little dizzy.

“Charlie.”

He thought, and it was more feeling than a thought, really, any thoughts he had were racing around in circles far too fast for him to decipher, that he might float away if Charlie let go of his hand right now.

“I’m fine.”

And it was a very weak phrase to come up with and offer; it had never worked on Lilith either. Charlie’s face pulled some of the same lines as hers had, in those moments.

“Don’t say that. Don’t say you’re fine when…What-” She searched for words, out of her depth suddenly having to take care of her father in a sickening reversal of roles. “You were harming yourself?”

Lucifer sat up straighter in an instant, desperately trying to blink through the fog. He shook his head sharply, which, admittedly, didn’t help the dizziness. “No, no, no- that- it’s not like that, Char. Really, I wouldn't, not with you-”

Wrong turn.

“Dad,” she beseeched, horrified, eyes wide, cheeks reddening, “oh my god.” She looked like she wanted to run her hand through her hair but was afraid to let go of his hand. She squeezed it tightly instead.

“Ah, no, that’s not- that’s not what I meant, I just,” he tried to put some laughter to his voice, “you know how your dad gets, always saying the wrong things.” 

He really should get his handkerchief, wipe off the blood still staining his skin, but he felt strangely outside of himself; like his body wouldn’t cooperate with him even if he tried.

“It’s not funny, dad.” Her voice shook before it broke.

“It was an accident, Char,” he tried to convince, tried to settle, “it’s healed, and it won’t happen again.”

Charlie’s bottom lip wobbled. 

“Oh, no, oh, Charlie, dear, I’m sorry. You- you don't need to worry about your old man, okay?” 

Charlie just shook her head and refused to let go of his hand, tears sparkling on her lashes. 

“Was it something I did?” 

Lucifer was pretty sure he could hear his heart split in two.

“No, no, sweetheart not at all, it could never be something you did. It just…” he heaved a breath, searching for words to explain to his distraught daughter what he wasn’t even sure he could explain to himself. “Dad wasn’t paying attention; it wasn’t on purpose. I’m sorry it scared you.” 

Charlie’s brows knotted together, gaze darting from his eyes back to his arm. Lucifer itched to roll the sleeve down. 

“Does this happen a lot?” 

“No!” He’s quick to assure, “it doesn’t, and there isn’t a… it’s not a… it’s not like it’s gonna scar, honey.” 

Her face crumbled and Lucifer despaired making another wrong turn. He finally made the claws of his other hand unclench the fabric of his pants, shakily digging into his pocket to produce his handkerchief, pink and frilly and the one Charlie had liked best when she had been just a girl. He needed to break eye contact for a second and felt himself grow even more ashamed than he already was. 

“That’s not the point,” Charlie said tightly, “you’re still hurting yourself.” 

Lucifer tried not to cringe at the wording, the pink fabric between his fingers staining warm gold.  

“It really isn’t like that, I just get distracted, is all.” 

He wiped away the blood, leaving clean, gray skin, which made him feel strangely claustrophobic. 

“Distracted?” 

“I’m not…” Lucifer started before cutting himself off quickly. She wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t be able to see how it was all different for him. “Your dad comes in a very sturdy case, Char. You’re worrying yourself over a papercut, meum corculum, one that’s healed now.”

He wiped over his arm again, trying not to be too harsh while Charlie was still holding onto him. He needed to get it together, let them move on.

“And look! All cleaned up too.” 

For the first time he actually tried to tug his arm away instead of just thinking about it and it only made Charlie’s grip firmer. She was shaking her head, looking down at their hands, his’ still shaking, ever shaking. She must have noticed that too, by now; a realization that made Lucifer feel ill. 

“You really don’t get it,” Charlie chided on a breath out. “How long- Does this happen a lot?” 

Lucifer flexed the fingers of his free hand, digging his nails into the handkerchief, which was of little relief. His breath was picking up, his goddamned, traitorous, useless lungs cramping in on themselves. He wheezed out something that could pass for a nervous laugh, he hoped.

“Can we- I don’t- can you let go of me, dear?” 

“Oh.”

Charlie’s porcelain fingers uncurled and gently floated away, and Lucifer was glad to see he hadn’t rubbed off any stains. She carded a hand through her hair. 

“Look, Charlotte,” Lucifer started, wishing he could just erase the last minutes entirely, wipe away any worry she was now hunched under. He was supposed to help here, alleviate some of the pressure, and now he’s just added to the weight of the day. He fought a grimace and tried to replace it with a gentle smile, something warm and dependable. “I understand why you’re worried, I’m really sorry I startled you. It was an accident and it looked worse than it was. It won’t happen again.” 

Charlie shook her head. 

“You keep saying the same thing.” There was something incredulous in that statement, an undercurrent of acrid hurt.

Lucifer squeezed the handkerchief. “What?” 

Charlie wiped the back of her hand against her left eye, a quick, almost frustrated motion.

“If you… If you don’t want to talk to me, I can’t make you, even if I feel like you should. Just know that… I’m here, okay, dad? Anything you’ve got to say, I’ll listen.” 

A breathtaking offer. Something too big and bright to even look at directly. And as this was something that was being asked of him, something she desired; Lucifer should be able to do the dance. But it was, Lucifer thought, not something she should be asking for, and sometimes people don’t quite understand what was best for them. And Charlie was strong with a heart too big for her own good but she was also just one person, such a young one at that, who was trying to make Hell, of all places, into something better. She always, ever since she was a little girl, tended to try and take on the troubles of others. A hotel filling up with willing participants now, and she really should learn where to spend her energy, not stay in her role of therapist for everyone all day, not burn herself out and stretch herself so thin there was barely anything left.

That’s what Lucifer feared the most, waking up one day to see his daughter let herself be consumed by a hope that never springs to truth, always leading her on and pulling her apart while the people she works so hard for cannibalize her good intentions. He didn’t think he could bear that.

So instead of taking her up on any of it, instead of answering her and letting her know he’d heard her and was taking it to heart, he tried to smooth it over, leaned on the superficial. 

“Charlie, it’s gone.”  

Teary eyed frustration. Charlie put her face in her hands for a short moment and Lucifer was about ready to start packing his bags. Then she righted herself with a deep breath, eyes darting around the room before landing on Lucifer’s hands in his lap.

Lucifer tried to meet her gaze. “I don’t want you to worry about me.” 

Something funny happened in her face then, a calculating draw of her brows, a thinning of lips. When her eyes shot back up to look Lucifer in the face something sharp flashed over her features, if only for a second. His co-hotelier came to mind unbidden. 

Her voice rang out solid determined. Fit for a princess. 

“Then make me a promise.”

Lucifer’s spine straightened, curiosity always killing the cat.

“A promise?”

Charlie looked him right in the eyes when she spoke.

“Promise me you will answer me honestly when I ask you how you are, so I don’t have to worry,” she offered, fair and imploring.

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, already seeing every line and gap in the proposal.  

“You won’t have to elaborate if you don’t want to, you can answer me honestly in a word or two, if that makes you feel better,” Charlie continued, “And I’ll try not to press, I just… It will just help me know where I stand. So.”

She held up a pinky, something they had invented when Charlie had been little, a playful mockery of the deals the Devil allegedly delights in. The last time they made a pinky promise must have been a century ago. 

“Charlie…”

She wasn’t backing down. “It will be for my peace of mind, okay? So I don’t have to guess.”

Lucifer didn’t like lying to her, didn’t wake up in the morning to think ‘let me be untruthful to my daughter today!’, but he had his reasons, as a father in this case, for avoiding certain questions. A pinky swear wasn’t binding, of course. It was just that, a promise on a gesture, a childish one at that.

Lucifer knew he’d be just as incapable of breaking it as any sinner would a soul contract. 

“Just…,” Charlie was still holding up her hand, some of her steely composure melting into something close to pleading. “Just let me have this.” 

Oh, the puppy dog eyes were coming out for this one. His daughter had made a weak man out of him, riddled with soft spots. 

Lucifer extended a pinky with a soft smile. 

“Okay, Char, I promise.” 

She locked them together with grateful relief and a smile like the sun breaking through the clouds. And then Charlie was crouching down so they were face to face and he could admire the soft dusting of freckles on her cheeks and the bright color of her eyes and-

Oh.

Arms around him.

Lucifer sat very, very still for a moment as Charlie’s warm embrace circled around him.

A hug.

A hug!

Quickly, because he had been lagging, he wrapped his arms around her, a hand sliding over her back in muscle memory.

Charlie released a breath and leaned the side of her head against his, something she had to bend even further for but that didn’t appear to bother her. Lucifer didn’t let go, never was the first to break up a hug, especially where Charlie was concerned. When she pulled away she did so softly, hands settling on his shoulders. 

“Thanks, dad. Take it easy the next few days?”

Lucifer nodded. 

“You too,” he reminded her, “I know you haven’t been taking proper breaks. Vaggie looks about ready to tear her hair out.” 

Charlie huffed on a laugh, face instantly fond at the mention of her girlfriend. 

“The hotel can’t run if the owner’s burnt out,” he chided her, smiling as he wagged a finger, trying to move on, away.

”Ha, yeah, I know, I know that.” 

She looked like she wanted to say more, was searching his face for something, but seemed to let whatever it was go after a few moments. She sighed, before righting herself and wiping her hands over her pants. She glanced at the clock on the opposite wall, eyes widening slightly. 

“Oh, it’s… I have to go,” she had the gall to look apologetic, “it’s almost time for the daily wind-down session.” 

She looked like she wanted to say more, like she was considering offering to stay. That wouldn’t do.

”Oh, psh,” Lucifer waved a hand, standing up to collect the cups left on the table. “The tea has gotten cold anyway. Go do what you need to do.”

Charlie watched him tidy the table for a moment before seemingly pushing down whatever it was she felt like she still needed to settle between them with a quick shake of her head. She walked around the desk and plucked her jacket from the back of her chair.

“Okay,” she nodded, more to herself than him. “Okay.”  

The teacups rattled slightly when he put them on the tray. “What are you doing for today’s session?” 

“Oh! We’re finger-painting!” Charlie explained enthusiastically, mind finally latching onto other things. “It’s accessible and you get to use colors and creativity without the stakes being too high. I mean, no one sets the bar too high when they’re finger painting! And when expectations are low it hopefully takes away any blocks or performance anxiety. It’s just for fun and unwinding.” 

Lucifer had already heard the complete version of what kind of pedagogical thinking went into the finger-painting sessions but he would be happy to hear her talk about it forever. 

“That sounds lovely, Char.” 

He magics the tray away with the flick of a hand.

“You could join, if you like?” Charlie offered kindly, almost tentatively. 

Lucifer waved her off and didn’t notice the slight fall of Charlie shoulders. “No need, maybe another time. Got other things to attend to.”

More than that, Charlie had already spent far too much time seeing to her father today. He didn’t include this in his reasoning, fearing she’d take it the wrong way.

Charlie raised a brow at him. Oh! Right.

”I’ll take it easy,” he waved his hand again, “as should you, for that matter.” 

Charlie laughed, seemingly genuinely tickled by that. 

“Yeah, okay sure. We’ll both take it easy.” 

Chapter Text

‘Promise me you will answer me honestly when I ask you how you are, so I don’t have to worry.’

It was only after Lucifer had walked up and down the stairs to the still unoccupied upper floor a couple of times that the weight of the words really settled.

It felt strangely tough to grasp, what this promise entailed. The whole concept of it felt out of reach and it frustrated him that his mind couldn’t make sense of it. Lucifer didn’t want to spend time on it, didn’t want to dwell on why his thoughts felt sticky and unwieldy, both fast and slow at the same time. His head was failing him, which wasn’t new, but he was in his daughter’s hotel now, he should pull himself together.

‘You were harming yourself?’ Wide eyes, red cheeks. ‘Was it something I did?’

Lucifer halted on the steps, wrapping his arms around himself in a ghostly mimicry of a hug. His lungs expanded and shrunk again. He imagined Lilith, managing to be both solid and soft, how she wouldn’t even need to do all that much to make him breathe again.

Oh, it was watching him again, no use pretending it wasn’t. From every gap, every edge where something ended and another thing began the nothingness trembled with want, leaking out like smoke, curling towards Lucifer like beckoning fingers. Waiting.

His hands were cold around his arms in a way Lilith’s never were. She ran hot. Always had.

Lucifer’s eyes pricked.

This was why he should keep moving.

He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, breathing in what he thought was an adequate rhythm without anyone there to count the seconds for him.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, “Okay, Lucifer. Get it together.”

He moved. A Herculean effort, and it was just foot in front of foot. Up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs, down the stairs. Let it all fall away for the steady step, step, step, the repeated movements. Until it was a little easier. It would get easier. He just needed to get it together. Have his little moment of hysterics and after that he could go down again, being normal and letting himself be perceived.  

As if things weren’t already bad enough his stomach growled, a multi-front war being waged on him by himself. Curse this body, curse the vessel he had to trap himself inside of. Sure, it was a lot sturdier than the bodies his people got saddled with but it was such work to keep it running. Things had been easier when he’d been without one for sure. How did those sinners do it, theirs requiring so much more upkeep? Maybe that could be a conversation topic, seeing as he was to fraternize with Charlie’s friends. ‘So, how do you keep that weak flesh of yours running?’ Would that be patronizing? Too personal?
There had been a time where Lucifer knew these things, didn’t have to worry about saying something wrong, let alone be concerned about what others would think of it. Lilith had liked that, had laughed at him every time some jumped up overlord or royal made a face because of something he’d said. How could he feel bad if Lilith was laughing? Bells and birds, that’s what she sounded like. Bells and birds.
Well, she would snort too, when she got really into it, but that was just as beautiful, and Lucifer could never not laugh along when she laughed that freely. She was contagious, everything about her was contagious.

Top of the stairs. Turn around. Down the stairs.

His stomach growled again, louder, as if it was upset about being ignored. Want, want, want.

It angered him, suddenly, brightly, all this heavy want running away with him, making all of this all so godforsakenly complicated.

For a short moment, just the time in which a thought can pop up only to be instantly dismissed again, Lucifer envisioned going down to kitchen and opening the cupboard, the fridge, cracking an egg upon the counter, wilting spinach in hot oil, grinding black pepper and salt, sprinkling chili flakes, scraping butter over a slice of toasted sourdough. And Lucifer liked cooking, he did, the bustle and creativity of being in the kitchen, the repetition of movements. He liked making things for other people, people he loved. He liked Charlie taking a bite of something and smiling, mouth full. But the thought of a simple plate presenting bread, spinach, egg, sitting on the table, waiting for him to eat it, warm and shiny, sticky and moist, waiting, waiting, waiting…

It disgusted him.

It made his stomach clench and his throat tighten. His mind wouldn’t give up on the vision. A knife to eggs, yoke spills out.

Lucifer stopped on the steps, clutching the handrail, breathing through his nose.

Eggs turned into rice, saffron yellow, honey glazed carrots and round, soft chickpeas; pomegranate seeds like shiny little jewels, tight and ready to be popped, crushed between his molars.

Lucifer gagged on nothing. A hand flew to his chest, his fingers pressing into the soft muscle above his clavicle. Acid burned at the back of his throat.

Left foot in front of right foot. A clumsy affair. He used the railing to drag himself up. Up the stairs, reach the top, turn around, down.

His body was betraying him along with his mind. He couldn’t go down into the kitchen. He couldn’t stay here on the stairs. He felt like tearing his hair out. He felt like disincorporating and taking up dormancy for a couple of centuries, that sounded fun, sounded better than this. 

‘I really enjoy having you around, it feels- it just feels right.’ A hesitant smile, a soft crinkling of eyes.

He should do something. That was the conclusion that resounded.

Second floor, west wing. Library.

With any luck Alastor would be otherwise occupied.

Coffee first.

Lucifer was in the middle of finishing his layout plan when Alastor decided to start breathing down his neck, of course. 

“I can’t understand why you would prefer to do your sketching on a headache-inducing piece of glass as opposed to, oh, I don’t know, a sheet paper. A tool people have been using for centuries without complaint.” 

Great thing (in this particular instance) about fatigue is that the droning buzz that accompanied it eventually helped drown out other people’s voices. The additional hum of copious amounts of good old-fashioned caffeine running through his system was a great help keeping his mood from plummeting as well. And Lucifer liked this. Liked his imagination flowing out of him and becoming tangible, something to show for. He was real like this, he was something. He could easily pretend that his little episode on the stairs a few… some time ago hadn’t actually occurred at all. If the tree falls and there’s no one around to hear it, and all the rest. His lungs were working and his stomach had settled.

If Charlie asked him how he was right now he could say fine! He was fine and not lying and not breaking any promises.   

“Coffee?” Lucifer offered, not looking away from his tablet and gesturing at the small table. 

Alastor only hummed behind him, squinting at the tablet in Lucifer’s hands. 

Lucifer heated the coffee back up with a twist of his fingers and the pot floated to pour Alastor a cup. He would have to go get the drink himself though, Lucifer wasn’t that magnanimous. 

“Isn’t there a wall there?” Alastor pointed at the screen.

Lucifer tilted the tablet away. “Don’t touch it, you’ll do away with the whole thing like last time.”

“I wasn’t going to touch it,” Alastor snipped.

Lucifer ignored him, gesturing at the wall in question. “Doesn’t really need to be there, we can knock it down without problems. I don’t know why I put it in here to begin with, maybe I thought Charlie would use this space as an office?” He scratched his head.

Alastor made his way over to the side table, cane clacking along the rhythm of his steps. “Whoever knows what’s going on in that head of yours, your majesty. How worrying not even you seem to grasp the long and short of it, ha!” 

Lucifer glared at him and sent out a little bolt of energy, nudging the cup of coffee just as Alastor was picking it up, making the hot liquid spill over his fingers. 

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” Lucifer smiled. 

“Very mature,” Alastor sneered as flicked the coffee off his hand. 

Lucifer had more pressing things to attend to though. Like finishing the library in underrrr…. He looked at the time in the top corner of the screen. Fourteen hours.

Lucifer let go of the tablet in favor of having it float in the air in front of him. He clapped his hands together and turned to Alastor, who had sat himself down on one of the comfortable chairs Lucifer had decided needed to be in the library anyways. Alastor raised a brow at him.

”Okay, so here’s what I was thinking.” 

The floorplans, layout, springboard and various color samples flew out of the tablet to balloon in the air like posters for Alastor’s consideration. Lucifer used his cane to jab at the first topic.

“Let’s start with the floorplans. You already know the layout of the room and I just mashed Charlie’s wishes for the space and your recommendations together and, yeah, we’re knocking down that wall over there,” Lucifer gestured at the wall again and produced printouts of the floorplan with his hand, making them float over to Alastor’s lap for his consideration. Not that Lucifer would care terribly about his opinion, but he was sent out to accomplish a task which meant he would include Alastor in this so he at least couldn’t go rat him out to Charlie about it. 

”Other than that I was thinking of expanding slightly over there, a meter or a little more. I know we’ve been having trouble with the gargoyles that moved onto the roof but I think that if one of us talks to them- well, maybe not one of us, you’ll just piss them off even more, I’ll do that-” he added it to his to-do list, “I’ll be able to get them to see that some extra perching space would be a positive for them and then we should expect minimal sabotage on their part. Maybe it will even be the start of a more amicable relationship! Would be great if they stopped chucking roof tiles at the residents! Right, so when that’s out of the way we’ll have a nice and wide dormer which would be a good space to read, don’t you think? That’s what I thought.”

He didn’t wait for Alastor to reply because he really didn’t give a shit if he agreed or not.

”Oh, and if my memory and math serves me right, the library will be able to carry something like a tenth of the books that I have stored in the library back home and while I’m under no illusion your tastes would match the average individual’s, I’d still like to get some recommendations for genres and subjects and the like, to see what kinds of books I should transfer over here.”

See, he was killing the working together thing. Oh, he should probably ask the other residents as well, that sounded like something they (and Charlie) would appreciate.

Alastor sighed and Lucifer paused pulling up the images from his springboard.

”Ah,” his co-hotelier rolled his eyes, putting the now empty cup down. “So you’re in one of those moods.”

”Wha- Fuck you, that’s all you’ve got to say? Be happy that I did all the work for us, asshole.”

Alastor shuffled the stack of papers on his lap. “Didn’t you just say I gave you the ideas for the layout?” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Okay, yes, well, thanks a lot Al, couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“Now, do you want to continue?” 

Alastor raised his hands in mock defeat. “I am your captive audience.” 

Lucifer pursed his lips. “Thank you.” 

He sifted through his files looking for the right color samples to show along with the springboard. 

“Right-” Lucifer started, interrupted by a disgusted sound from the peanut gallery.

”I already object to that horrendous yellow.” 

Lucifer fought the urge to pinch his brow, before not seeing the use of winning that particular battle and letting himself do just that.

“Are you arguing or using your veto,” he asked, trying to keep his voice as polite as possible. For Charlie. For Charlie.

Alastor tapped his chin, considering it with a hum. ”Hmm, I’ll argue it.” 

Lucifer waved his deadline goodbye.

There was something wrong with the fireplace. 

Lucifer knew Al didn’t want to be the first to say it, but he was glaring at it just like he was. Lucifer didn’t know when the two of them had become glorified interior designers for Charlie’s  redemption project, but he wasn’t one to half ass things, and he knew enough about Alastor to know he wasn’t either. Maybe that was their shared problem, they both didn’t have a clue how to let things be what they were. 

Lucifer tilted his head. Maybe the dimensions were off?

“Maybe it’s the-”

”It’s not the size.”

Lucifer quieted down again, squinting at the fireplace which should have been the center point of the room but was now making it feel unbalanced. 

They were way behind, by the way; only the bare bones of the library had been laid down. They tore down that fucking wall, put in the floors after taking ages deciding on the color (shaking hands on a reddish imitation wood), created the dormer, coffered the ceiling, put up and secured the bookcases and lighting fixtures and then they had decided to work on the fireplace, which was supposed to be so cozy and warm (mostly metaphorically, since it didn’t often get cold in Hell) but was now halting their progress once again.

Maybe it was the ornamental edges Lucifer had given the thing? He was just about to speak when Alastor coughed. A good, raspy cough. Even had a bit of a wheeze to it. It made Lucifer pause if only because of how out of character it was. Alastor didn’t seem like the type of person to succumb to such trivial bodily weaknesses like coughing or sneezing or getting watery eyes while cutting onions or jumping around on one leg after stubbing a toe. 

Lucifer shot him a glance and Alastor averted his gaze, glaring behind the hand in front of his mouth. 

“You okay there, Al?” 

Alastor cleared his throat and made a show twirling his cane between his fingers.

”Just the dust,” he assured. He dug into his pocket and produced a watch, prettily adorned on a silver chain. If it were anyone else Lucifer would’ve complimented it and asked permission to examine the craftsmanship up close. 

“Would you look at the time,” Alastor exclaimed, “what a boon that one can count on it to pass even in the most miserable company.”

Well, Lucifer thought he had been on good behavior.

”I’m retiring for the night,” Alastor concluded.

Lucifer didn’t need to know the time. Actually, the less he knew about time, the better. What he did know is that it wasn’t morning yet, and if it wasn’t morning the hotel would be quiet, and if Lucifer couldn’t continue working on the library he would be left alone with idle hands and idle hands were idle minds and an idle mind is the devil’s playground. Or something.

“Come one Al, at least help me out with this before you go beddy bye bye.”

Alastor made a face suggesting strong distaste of his phrasing, before raising his brow, catching on.

“Disappointed I’m leaving, sire?”

Lucifer shrugged. “I don’t know. We were kind of on a roll.” They hadn’t been.

“Oh?” Alastor grinned, “I’ll be sure to tell Charlie there’s still hope.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“I mean, we’ve been in this room for a while and we haven’t killed each other or levelled half of the hotel, I think it’s fair to call that a win.”

“You threatened to snap me out of existence if I changed the parquet pattern.”

“But I didn’t, and you were being annoying on purpose.”

Alastor pursed his lips, looking down at Lucifer with a faintly amused draw of his brow. “Perhaps.”

And Lucifer almost laughed at the guy.

“But,” Alastor started back up, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for more quality time. As I’ve stated, not suggested, I’m leaving.” 

Lucifer pouted before he caught himself and sighed instead. If he had learned anything about Alastor is that is was a lost cause trying to change his mind. Besides, he couldn’t really explain to him why he wanted him to stay anyways. He produced a binder filled notes and plans on good old-fashioned paper for Alastor to labor over.

”Here,” he said, slapping the thing squarely against the demon’s chest. 

A jagged, high-pitched stream of radio feedback resounded through the room, startling Lucifer badly enough to jump and drop the binder to the floor. 

“Jesus!” 

His attention automatically snapped to the source of the sound, Alastor, who had gone white around his edges and hunched slightly around a hand on his chest. The static noise of overlapping, hurriedly chattering voices rose in tension and volume before it got swiftly cut off, the sudden silence almost more violent than the cascade of voices had been. 

Alastor straightened himself with a stretched-out grimace, teeth on display but a clearly passed station for a smile.

They were quiet for a moment, Lucifer taking in the man in front of him and processing what just happened and Alastor stubbornly avoiding his gaze.

”Uhm,” Lucifer started intelligently, “are you okay?”

Alastor’s ears swiveled back in annoyance. 

“Quite fine, you just caught me off guard,” he lied through his teeth, “Now if you’ll finally excuse me.” 

Lucifer stepped forward. “Now, Al-”

“Goodnight, Lucifer.”

Lucifer stood dumbfounded as he watched the other head for the door before deciding that really wouldn’t do.

“Now hold up!”

Alastor kept moving. Lucifer made the the door in front of him slam closed him. Static rumbled dangerously from where Alastor was standing, stiff before turning around sharply, face enraged.

“Why, you little-

“You forgot something,” Lucifer interrupted, not backing down.

Lucifer would be six feet under if looks could kill and if he could actually die. 

”What?” Alastor bit out.

Lucifer gestured to the floor. ”You forgot the binder.”

Alastor let his eyes drop down for a second before thinning his lips and glaring at Lucifer with such ferocity Lucifer almost wondered if what he was doing was worth it. Almost. 

”I don’t need a handout of your mad ramblings on printed paper, but thank you.”

”Don’t be rude,” Lucifer admonished, only half acting, “just take it with you. I don’t care if you read it.”

“I don’t-“

“Pick it up.”

Lucifer waited for Alastor to try and bend over, stubbornly show him that he could, that he wasn’t hurt at all. He just kept glaring at him.

”Pick up the binder, Al. Or is something wrong?”

”Will you shut-”

“Just pick it up!”

Alastor’s expression turned smug as he a shadowy tentacle sprout from the floor to pick it up for him, politely depositing it into his hands.

”Oh, come on, that’s-!,”

”I refuse to entertain more of your whims,” Alastor cut him off, “Now if you’ll excuse me-”

Lucifer produced and binder and threw it at his chest. 

He hit the mark fantastically, catching the radio demon off guard. A loud screeching started back up from the radio and Alastor dropped the binder he’d been holding in favor of doubling over and pressing his hands to his chest.

”Ha!” Lucifer pointed, pleased to prove a point.

The static didn’t stop ringing, however, and Alastor didn’t right himself. It occurred to Lucifer he might have miscalculated.

”Hey, Alastor?”

He was breathing hard through his nose, smile tight and eyes wide. Lucifer stepped close even though he got the distinct impression he might lose a hand upon doing so. Alastor was clutching his chest again, hands shaking against a growing stain in his suit. Oh. Oh, fuck.

“Are you- you’re bleeding.”

Lucifer would never get used to it, the fragility of his people, the fact that they were a bump and hole away from fading out forever at every moment. He wasn’t above saying the red they bled always left him feeling slightly faint. 

Alastor growled from where he was hunched over, his shadow dancing over the wall and floors like a distressed animal, seemingly not quite sure if he should be pushing Lucifer away or drag him closer. Lucifer didn’t particularly care which of either it was.

He reached out to put his hand to Alastor’s chest, suddenly aware of a faint humming coming from him, a strange draw, a familiar hello.

Alastor snatched his hand out of the air before he could make contact.

”Keep your hands off me,” he bit, voice warbled and off-kilter.

Lucifer’s eyes darted between his face and his chest, understanding he should back up and give Alastor his space while another part of him wanted to float closer like a magnet.

”What… What’s going on with you?” Lucifer asked, voice strained to even his own ears.

It occurred to him he could faintly hear Alastor’s heart pulsing from the wound in his chest, something he couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed before. He smelled of rot and something intoxicatingly sweet, like jasmine and honey. Cloying. All of it was so arresting it knocked Lucifer off his axis a little and it dawned on him he’d been too preoccupied and in his own head to see the lesser demon had successfully cloaked this away from Lucifer’s notice all this time. 

”None of your business,” Alastor hissed, claws sinking into the skin of Lucifer’s hand in warning. Bold fucking move, but Lucifer knew a cornered animal when he saw one.

The wound pulsed again and something hummed along with it, heavy and oppressive; it was giving Lucifer a headache. 

“Sit down,” he said, wanting to guide Alastor to one of the chairs, “let me have a look.”

Alastor let go of Lucifer’s hand like it was burning him. 

“No,” the static fizzed, “I’m leaving.” 

Why could nothing ever be easy with this guy?

”Like Hell you are, you’re hurt.” 

The wound pulsed and fizzled, glowing feverishly warm even from where Lucifer was standing. Now that Lucifer knew of its existence it seemed incredible that he hadn’t noticed it before. The energy coming from Alastor’s chest seemed strangely happy to be noticed by him, a tingling warmth reaching out like grabby little hands. 

Alastor just narrowed his eyes at him.

Lucifer’s hands sailed through the air as he spoke, something he tended to do when he got particularly passionate. ”I don’t want you bleeding all over the floor crawling back to your room, what if someone sees you, huh? Do you think Niffty would be happy scrubbing your blood out of the carpet?”

The radio demon regarded him for a long moment, as if to take stock of all there was about the man in front of him. Lucifer let him, trying to be patient while working out if it would be worth it to just restrain the guy and take a look at whatever baffling affliction was encumbering him like that. He had a hunch though, one he hoped was wrong. 

“If this is you pretending to care,” Alastor said slowly, carefully, “désolé, mais je suis pas comme les autres têtes vides ici.” 

“What are you talking about?” Lucifer shook his head. “I’m not- I’m not going to do anything.”

“Then let me leave.” 

“Alastor,” Lucifer admonished, tone not unlike the one he had occasionally used on Charlie when she had been young and learning to live, “whatever’s going on with that gaping wound in your chest is not something you can just ignore and walk off. It’s… there’s something off about it, and you know it.”  

“I haven’t been ignoring it. I’ve been...” Alastor curled and stretched his fingers, “managing.” 

Lucifer tried not to snort at that. “Sure, sure, is that why you’re leaking all over the floor right now?” 

Alastor snarled at him, smile sharp and wide enough to look painful. Lucifer trudged on, never knowing quite when to quit.

“What if it had been someone else to throw something at you, huh? Or bump into you in the hall? What if Charlie suddenly went in for a hug, only to come away covered in your blood? Someone is going to notice, Al, sooner or later.”

The shadow below their feet grew noticeably even more agitated at that, pulling faces of despair and darting into corners while the volume of indistinct voices chattering over the radio airways rose feverishly, like all of them had moved on to discussing the end of the world.

Alastor took a step back. It was something that was so out of character for him it made Lucifer wonder where he had gone wrong. 

“Don’t,” Alastor growled, “I’ll make sure it doesn’t work out for you,” he promised, and Lucifer was trying to keep up with whatever version of this conversation Alastor was having. “Charlie doesn’t trust you, not really. She knows you’ve been out of sorts, she knows you hate me. It wouldn’t be hard to convince her you have it out for me, someone so much more powerful than I am.” Cruelty and desperation dripped from his voice in equal measure.

Lucifer reeled back like he’d been hit across the face.

”What?”

Alastor just glowered at him from under his brow, hand still clutching his chest protectively, like a wounded cat that just lashed out at the veterinarian. His torso pulsed and hummed and it made Lucifer want to tear his hair out.

He forced himself not back down or to snap, instead willing himself to take a deep breath in while his fingers found the bridge of his nose to pinch. A skill he supposed he had to acquire when Charlie had been going through one of her phases. Counting to ten and all that. Not that he had been particularly good at it then, and that had been close to two centuries ago. But even Lucifer, when pressed, could tell when someone was trying to derail a conversation on purpose, and he wouldn’t get played a fool by the radio demon of all people.

“Okay. Okay, regroup,” Lucifer waved his arm and closed his hand in a silencing gesture. “What do you think is happening right now? Actually, don’t answer that, I don’t wanna know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots to ground himself. 

“Here’s what I thought was happening. You’ve got a hole in your chest, something I didn’t know until a few minutes ago. There’s something weird about said hole because normally when sinners are bleeding out the wound doesn’t smell like potpourri while singing a song for me, okay? Excuse me for being alarmed and, admittedly, a little curious about that.”

“It does what?”

“And now you’re about ready to bite my head off when I, the only guy in Hell that can actually heal you, am just trying to help,” he threw up his hands, “So we’re kind of at a stalemate here; you won’t let me get close and I’m sure as Hell not going to let this go. So,” he gestured between them, “are we just going to stand here all night until someone finds us like this, or are you going to sit down and let ol’ Lucifer take a look at that, quite honestly, dreadful looking injury? ‘Cause you’re stubborn, Al, but I’ve got a few millennia of practice on you.”

The corners of Alastor’s mouth twitched. 

“You tend to sully far too many words on nothing once you get started.” 

Lucifer pointed at the chair. Alastor just kept glaring at him. Lucifer could do this, participate in a good old-fashioned stare down. The clock ticked. Something in Alastor’s face faltered. Ha, won.

”I won’t let you near me. You can’t make me.”

God above.

“Of course I can, and if I wanted to, I could’ve had you pinned like a butterfly and dissected you like a frog the moment I felt like it,” Lucifer informed, officially losing his patience. “I just don’t fucking feel like it.”

Alastor grinned right back at him, wide and carnivorous, as if he had caught him slipping on the clearing. 

“Of course you wouldn’t, what would you get out of that?”

Another thing to catch Lucifer off guard. Aggravating how good Alastor was at that. 

“Uhm, less of a fight? I’m not getting anything out of this either way.”

Alastor looked mighty pleased at that, around his graying edges. ”Good to know we’re on the same page.”

Lucifer stared back up at him. ”Yeah?”

The amount of time they had already wasted dumbly staring each other down from across the room was actually laughable. Were it not for the shake in Alastor’s shoulders and his rapidly paling face, Lucifer would have not put it past him to just stay here all night. Whatever it was about him that had the demon acting this recalcitrant could actually cost him his afterlife, when all could be so easily fixed. Was his distaste for Lucifer really that serious? Was the prospect of him helping out truly that unacceptable?

“Why do I have the feeling you-” Lucifer’s face went slack in realization. “Ooohhh.” 

God, this guy.

He couldn’t help the giggles that escaped him, a sort of cloudy mirth bubbling up from his chest and up into his throat, tickling him until he was gasping on his own laughter, eyes damp.

“How could I forget!” he wheezed, “Oh, you people!”

Of course Alastor, of all sinners, would be precious about a helping hand.

“Care to explain what’s so terribly funny, your majesty?” 

Lucifer ran a hand down his face, the muscles in his face tired and strained.

“I get the feeling you tend to forget who you’re talking to,” he chuckled. “Trust me, Al, the last thing I need to start doing is making deals with sinners.” 

He wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers, trying to get his breathing back under control. “Now don’t be insulted; I’m sure that to anyone else, making a deal with you would be a real opportunity, big guy. I’m just not the one.” 

Alastor stilled, tensing in both indignation and some morbid curiosity. 

“Not adding to the collection presently, sire?” he baited.

Lucifer’s teeth felt too sharp for his mouth. “Whatever could I add? The moment you people wander down here your soul is mine.” He shook out a hand, trying to will away the pricking tingling under his skin. “I can’t blame you for forgetting, that’s on me, I’m sure, but I am still, you know, the Devil.”

He didn’t want to watch Alastor absorb the information. 

He clapped his hands together. “Now that we’ve worked out those kinks, can you please, for the love of eugh, sit down and let me heal you?”

Lucifer didn’t exactly know why he was practically begging the sinner to let him help him except for the certainty that Alastor should just let him do it and and it was annoying that he wouldn’t just pick the road of least resistance. However, there was also something to it; the thought of proud, shrewd Alastor reduced to a victim of something that was starting to sound and smell alarmingly Heavenly didn’t sit right with Lucifer at all. All if this have been solved already, if Alastor would just see sense and back down and admit Lucifer was right.

“No,” was all Lucifer got for his troubles. 

“Why- What’s the problem now!?”

“You.”

Ha, and that was funny and a little unexpected, the stab of hurt that cut through Lucifer upon the insult. He hadn’t known he actually cared enough about what Alastor thought of him to be taken aback by that. There was something to be learned about oneself everyday, he supposed! Lucifer tried terribly hard not to let it show, the way the comment made him flinch back slightly. 

If Alastor noticed he didn’t care. 

“You may not take my soul but there is always a catch,” he breathed, speaking like he was a priest at a sermon, stringing together what he knew to be an absolute truth. “There is always a snake hidden in the grass, always strings ready to tighten the knot. I will not be indebted.” His teeth clacked on the last word.

Lucifer just wanted this to be over. Just wanted Alastor to stop sneering at him and to stop shaking and pushing against his own chest like he was trying to push his insides back in. When that was over he could hate Lucifer all he wanted. Lucifer could examine all this when he was back in his room, alone.

But he would not back down.

“What can I do to convince you I’m not trying to get anything out of you?” he tried, searching for other options than just going ahead with his plan B (waiting for Alastor to pass out and performing some emergency healing on him, consent or not; Alastor’s opinion of him was apparently pretty low anyways. Which he had known, right?). “Because I don’t need anything from this.”

Alastor was starting to run out of reasons, and he must’ve noticed it too. He made a mad dash for the upper hand.

“I made a deal with Charlie,” he ground out quickly, wielding that bit of information like a rusty knife, a last resort. 

It took a hot second for Lucifer to digest the words. When the meaning hit it did feel like someone ripped the rug from under his feet, he’d give Alastor that. 

“What?” 

Lucifer didn’t like how strained his own voice sounded.

Alastor just watched him, waiting, perhaps for the other shoe to drop. He looked vulnerable and cruel.

Oh, Lucifer hated it, Lucifer hated it here, this is why he didn’t leave the house. 

He reached into the empty air in front of him, an array of threads and delicate chains appearing in his fist, twinkling and clicking in echoing greeting. He looked all of them over, counted them, ran his fingers along the shine, tallied the knots. His hands shook as he did it, but nothing new there. The vice around his lungs unwinded when nothing seemed particularly out of order. 

“She still has her soul,” he breathed, half accusation. He met Alastor’s pained gaze. His shadow looked like it was trying to pull the door off its hinges.

“A favor,” he bit, “for a favor.”

Lucifer dismissed his inventory with a sigh, short and high in his chest and started pacing around the room, not particularly caring what Alastor thought of the display.  

His daughter had made a deal, a deal with one of the most conniving overlords Hell has seen. A murderer, a cannibal, a liar. Hadn’t her parents always warned her, hadn’t they always repeated the same spiel over and over again? Did she not see she held power that was so easily exploited in badly discussed deals? How desperate must his daughter have been to shake on a favor with the radio demon? Had he manipulated her? Threatened her?

Lucifer pushed down a primal panic, trying to reel in his own spiraling thoughts.

Your daughter is an adult, a soothing, stern voice inside his mind spoke up, and Lucifer didn’t know if Lilith would agree and wouldn’t just evicerate Alastor for his gall, but the voice sounded like hers, enough for him to pause.

Charlie was older than the piece of shit in front of him, actually, and she was smart. He could see how sinners would underestimate her, her idealism bordering on the naive, but she was decidedly not stupid. She had fended for herself, had made it this far on her own. Who knew what had moved her to shake hands, make promises she was bound to keep? She hadn’t told him, hadn’t rang the alarm like Lucifer hoped she would if things ever really went to shit. Lucifer simply didn’t know.

Because Lucifer hadn’t been there. That was the only truth that resounded. 

He turned back to Alastor, leaning heavy on his cane.

”Okay,” he challenged, voice tired, “what else you got?”

Chapter Text

If Lucifer would have given himself the time to ponder it, it might have occurred to him that he felt like a collapsing star because he hadn’t slept or eaten anything substantial aside from double espressos with two sugars for a week. A being that has been around for approximately ten thousand years surely must have learned along the way that one plus one equals two, and that working without rest and exclusively sugared caffeine for fuel equates to a, quite frankly, dreadful state of being.

A fox might not be taken twice in the same snare but Lucifer seemed eager to keep exploring his pitfalls like they had appeared to him anew. 

Helping people that didn’t desire to be helped seemed to be squarely among them, no matter how he’d sworn off the habit. 

His head ached and his temples pounded along with the beating of Alastor’s heart; whatever was infecting the gaping wound in his chest functioning as some torturous megaphone designed to make Lucifer feel incredibly out of sorts. 

Alastor had been struggling to find the right words, something Lucifer would be happy to gloat about were it not for his own rapidly nosediving mood. After a few seconds of Alastor opening and closing his mouth like a particularly stubborn fish he finally got back to using his voice again.

“You’re not letting this go.” A statement, not a question.

Finally! Some sense. 

Lucifer breathed out. “I am not.”

”Why?” Alastor asked, looking truly out of his depth behind his tight smile for the first time. “Why do you care?”

”Because, asshole, my daughter cares about you, for whatever reason, and I care about my daughter, and she’s tasked us to get along.” And it’s not right, he wanted to add, watching the radio demon trying not to wince from pain in front of him.

Alastor was watching him like he was a particularly infuriating puzzle, one where you notice at the end of it there were pieces missing all along and the problem hadn’t been you, it had been the puzzle. 

“Well,” Alastor wetted his lips, looking about one wrong move away from changing his mind again. “I have to admit it has been a nuisance.”

“Want me to take a look at it?” Lucifer tried for casual.

Alastor scrunched his nose at that. “‘Want’ wouldn’t be the word I’d use, but it seems I’m out of other options.”

”Fine by me.” Lucifer gestured to the chair, ears ringing. “Sit down.”

”I would appreciate not being ordered around like a dog-”

”Alastor-” Lucifer cut him off, voice breaking, to his utter mortification.

His co-hotelier finally did him the decency of complying. Not without making a face, but still. Small victories. His shadow snaked circles on the floor around him, following him eagerly into the armchair. Lucifer followed suit, disappearing his cane and settling down on a stool he’d pulled out of the air in front of him. Alastor regarded his movements stiffly.

“Are you quite alright yourself, your highness?”

Lucifer carded a hand through his hair, suddenly relieved he was sitting down. 

”Acting like you care, now?”

Alastor smiled thinly. 

”Just returning the favor.”

Lucifer ignored him, gesturing at his clothes instead. “I, uhm, I need you to take off your jacket for this.”

Alastor looked openly unsettled at this.

”And your shirt too, actually.”

A screech of feedback echoed through the room and Lucifer tried not to wince at the sound. He patted the side of the man’s knee in sympathy, which just earned him another warning screech. 

“How else am I going to manage to heal you, Al?”

Carefully and not without wincing (something Lucifer pretended not to notice) Alastor undid himself of his coat, letting his shadow take it to hang it neatly over the back of the chair. Alastor unbuttoned his shirt with slightly trembling fingers (another thing Lucifer pretended not to notice and really, who was he to judge that ) but didn’t move to completely remove the garment, something Lucifer was fine with; just opening the shirt was enough to get a good looks at Alastor’s chest and yikes, the view wasn’t pretty. 

Lucifer frowned at the soaked through bandages; a dark, angry red staining the white of them. Alastor held on tightly to his dignity, sitting in front of him with his back straight and chin raised, but Lucifer could tell it was taking its toll. 

“Can I unwrap you?” Lucifer asked.

Alastor swallowed, muscles in his exposed throat moving at the action. A curt nod.

Lucifer materialized a pair of golden scissors, the twin blades the beak of a swan. He reached out slowly; the beckoning, feverish heat coming off the wound making him pause momentarily before hooking a claw under a section of the bandages and using the scissors to snip through them. After another minute of strategic cutting the wrapping fell away entirely, revealing the gaping wound covering most of Alastors torso. A large, jagged cut ran all the way from the sinner’s left shoulder to the bottom of his ribs on the right. It looked dark and angry and both newer and older than it should be; cracks of dried blood and half healed skin festering around trickling, sticky fresh red. 

Lucifer honestly wondered how Alastor was still as lucid as he was. Pure stubbornness and pride, probably. The thought amused him somewhat. 

His amusement was cut short the moment his fingers got too close to the wound, a flash of heat, of sound, humming- gold- honey- familiar-

Lucifer snatched his hands back with a gasp, grasping it with his other and holding it to his chest. Okay. Okay, so that had been- that was-

“What the Hell,” he breathed, voice a little higher than it should be. His eyes shot up to meet Alastor’s. 

Alastor ’s smile thinned. 

“Adam, he… caught me off guard.”

”At the extermination?” 

Alastor gave him a deadpan look.

“But that was…” Lucifer didn’t actually know how long ago that was, “ages ago!”  

“Yes, you can imagine my annoyance.” He looked down at his own chest like it was mocking him.

Lucifer reached out, prepared now, fingers aglow with some leftover heavenly light of his own as he hovered in front of Alastor’s chest. The wound- no not the wound, the infection- pulsed and hummed, something Lucifer was now sure only he could tell it was doing. The energy was eager to reach out, like knowing like, and Lucifer fought the urge to cover his nose.

“Of course it wouldn’t heal, Al, it’s… Adam was a real piece of work, alright.” 

It was a poison, Lucifer could see that clearly now. What would probably be like a shot of adrenaline to someone up in Heaven was actively waging war against the overlord’s body down here, and quite viciously so. Lucifer let his fingers float past the wound, down Alastor’s shoulder and arm and, yep, there it hummed contentedly at him as well. 

Every vein, every part of the sinner touched by blood flow was tainted. Adam had basically infected him with an angelic version of sepsis, fighting every demonic cell Alastor possessed. 

Lucifer dropped his hands, looking back up. 

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’m surprised you lasted this long. Adam struck you with something close to pure angelic energy, but it’s… it feels twisted for some reason. I mean, coming into contact with anything angelic is never good news for a sinner, but this… seems entirely constructed to level you. It’s sadistic. And it’s spread to about… Everywhere.”

Alastor ’ s eyes had widened slightly and, right, Lucifer really should learn not to ramble in stressful situations. Bedside manners.

“But don’t worry!” he quickly assured. “It’s nothing old Lucifer can’t fix, easy peasy.” He wriggled his fingers in the air for emphasis, adding some sparkles for good measure, something Alastor didn’t seem to particularly appreciate, but it got him scowling instead of looking like someone was reading him his last rites.

Adam might have been an asshole extraordinaire, waving around his posthumous begotten powers with the glee of knowing he was the biggest bully on the playground, but anything he had to show for was child’s play compared to what Lucifer could still do. In theory. With Alastor in the mix, a heavyweight of a demon but still very much classes below either of them, Lucifer needed to be a bit more… delicate. In short, he was going to try not to rip Alastor to shreds as he undid him of the poison that had nestled its way into almost every fiber of his being. No biggie. 

“Okay!” Lucifer exclaimed, catching that he had just been staring at Alastor’s torso while letting the silence drag on. He wrung his hands together, trying to rub some warmth into them. “I’m going to just… drag the infection out of you, more or less. Through the wound, so… that might suck for a bit, just a heads up. But after that I’ll close you up and you’ll be good as new! That part will be over quite quickly, yes.” 

“Well,” Alastor pursed his lips, patience clearly running thin, “if you ever do get to all of that, let me know.” 

Lucifer glared at him and shook out his hands. With his fingers aglow he leaned in again, his hands floating over the expanse of Alastor’s chest and illuminating the damage. He scrunched his nose against the heady sweetness the energy emitted. Lucifer did not remember anything smelling this sickening when he’d been up there. Then again, he’d also gotten used to the smell of sulfur permeating the air down here, so who knew. The deaf man claiming the rooster crowed differently these days and all that. 

Alastor was looking down keenly at the proceedings before raising a brow, which was when Lucifer knew he’d been caught.

“Nervous, sire?” he drawled.

Lucifer’s hands shook noticeably in the air before gently making contact with the wound, prodding softly. 

Well, since Alastor showed him his… 

“Guess I’m nervous all the fucking time.”

Alastor seemed to actually find the notion quite amusing.

”Like one of those horrid little dogs, with the big eyes.”

Lucifer couldn’t help but snort, a testament to his frayed nerves.

”Yeah, like a chihuahua.”

“Ha!” A laugh track accompanied him. “The similarities are striking.”

”Yeah, laugh it up, big dog.” Lucifer pressed the pads of his fingers into Alastor’s chest a little harder, trying to ignore the flinching. “This is gonna suck. Sorry in advance. You need something to bite down on?”

Alastor’s eyes flicked from his chest to Lucifer’s hands, to his face in rapid succession.

“I’ll just bite down on you, if the urge strikes.” 

“Ha, maybe another time, pal.”

He pulled. 

It was fascinating. Layers and layers of angelic essence curling and coiling underneath the skin, tearing away at anything demonic it encountered like white blood cells would fight diseases in humans. Oh, for an angel or a winner this would probably be a wonderful cure, how bravely it fought. But for the opposite host, for a sinner, it was pure destruction from the inside out. Lucifer tried not to lose himself in pulling the energy apart, tearing it into little pieces and seeing what it was made out of, what alterations had been made to the substance since he had last come across something similar. It pulsed and hummed and seemed strangely happy to see him, which, along with the stench, made Lucifer faintly nauseas, but not enough to dampen his curiosity. 

He pulled, starting at Alastors fingertips, the first curl undoing itself, letting its hooks be dragged out of its host. It went along easily enough. 

Alastors breath hitched audibly. 

“Sorry,” Lucifer muttered.

He tried to conjure some of his own light to balm the worst of the pain, but he didn’t know how helpful that really was. Didn’t suppose scraping out an infection on a cellular level was ever going to be a pleasant experience. Lucifer pushed through, going from hands to arms to elbows. There was a growing supply of white gold spilling out of Alastor now, and because Lucifer couldn’t let it hang around freely he rolled it between his fingers, turning it into a loose string he spun onto a modest spinning wheel. Alastor eyed the proceedings with a wary curiosity, the strain of the ordeal only dampening his calculating expression slightly. More poison dripped out of him to be spun into golden threads, turning on the wheel and gathering around the spindle. Lucifer supposed it did look a little strange, but he couldn’t think of a better way of gathering and containing it, and this way it might actually be of use one day. Destroying it seemed wasteful. 

The closer he got to Alastor’s chest the worse the pain seemed to get, but Alastor was apparently a good patient when he decided to stop fighting his healer on every turn and actually climbed into the the metaphorical hospital bed, so he didn’t do more than flinch when the pain got too much.

Lucifer was dredging the poison from the middle of Alastor’s chest when he felt it, the cold, predictable weight of the lock. The point to which all deals a sinner made were tied and guarded, and Lucifer sifted through them all unbidden. He hadn’t meant to but avoiding it was near impossible, like someone holding up a page of a book in front of one’s face and telling them not to read. It just happened, the shapes turning into identifiable letters turning into words turning into sentences. It was commonplace; if Lucifer wanted to he could read the threads and chains and contracts of every person taking a stroll through pentagram city right now. Learning to turn off this ability and cloak his eyes to it had been a necessity, the constant rush of information completely overwhelming. 

Alastor had collected more chains than Lucifer could count. They ran out of him in every direction, belonging to all sorts of people for all sorts of purposes. Soul-deals, favors, tallies, agreements and accords tied from the weakest to strongest of souls indiscriminately; even other rings weren’t safe, and how Alastor had managed that he would have to ask him another time. 

Lucifer stilled.

A chain, a thick, nasty soul-deal had been shackled around Alastor, the whole of him. None of this was strange, Lucifer would’ve been very impressed indeed if Alastor had managed to only make favorable deals in his time down here. What was strange is that it lay around Alastor’s core and stopped there. A mystery, a secret.

Lucifer prodded at it deliberately now, flipping it over, looking for a signature, looking for a direction, a reason. None revealed itself.

“Who-,” he stuttered, flummoxed, “Who has-”

Nothing in Hell should be a secret to Lucifer, nothing should be cloaked for him enough to actually remain hidden when Lucifer pushed his will. Why, when he could read every soul, every single damned soul in Hell, how was this-

His breath hitched, closing in on panic. He looked Alastor in the face. He was wearing an expression Lucifer could not decipher. 

“I can read every contract in made in Hell, every soul, I- how is this-”

”You can’t read it?” 

Alastor’s voice was neutral but careful, as if Lucifer was treading even thinner ice than he realized, as if Alastor didn’t know if he should be glad Lucifer couldn’t read him or find it regrettable.

Lucifer took a hand back and combed it through his hair in nervous habit. 

“No.”

And Alastor ’ s mouth did a funny thing, almost like it was trying to break out of its smile, but the corners of his lips remained sharp. It’s the closest, Lucifer thought, he’d come to seeing him without it. 

Alastor couldn’t even speak their name . 

“ Alastor ,” Lucifer admonished, a little aghast, a question on its own, like a parent chastising a child. What had he gotten himself into?

Alastor looked away, grin back in place but a clear snarl breaking through. 

“Weren’t you going to stitch me up?”

Oh, so now he was in a hurry. 

“Gimme…” Lucifer breathed around his whirling thoughts, “one moment.” 

What did this mean? A demon, an overlord, untrustworthy, powerful, getting so close in multiple ways and Lucifer couldn’t even read him. Who in the seven rings could keep such a tight leash on the man, hold such a heavy chain with such vicious precision that Alastor couldn’t reveal a detail if he wanted to? Who had enough power to shield a deal from the Devil, in his domain? Who did Alasor come into contact with that eluded Lucifer? What did it mean to have Alastor at the hotel when Lucifer didn’t know?

“Charlie,” Lucifer demanded, “the deal, would any harm-”

”I hunt alone,” Alastor said, and Lucifer could actually see them now, the green stitches tearing into his mouth. 

The worst thing was, the absolute worst thing about it, is that instead of leaving the wily, untrustworthy, scheming demon to figure it out on his own now- instead of feeling betrayed and angry and showing the demon the door- Lucifer realized he actually felt bad for him.

Box it; he would put all this on the shelf somewhere, look at it later, when he had time to obsess over every angle he could find, but for now it was going in the attic. 

“Okay,” Lucifer nodded to himself, “Okay. Okay, that’s… I’ll…” 

He brought his hands back to his chest, poison drained and spun and leaving only the flesh to mend. Palms flat and fingers splayed he searched for physical injuries, feeling how Alastor’s own exhausted body was already trying to mend itself back together now that the intruder had gone. There was enough internal damage to be, if not life threatening, a real tough blow even without the angelic infection.  

He heard the screech of radio feedback before feeling the snap of one of Alastor’s ribs setting itself to rights underneath his hands. 

“Shit! Sorry, sorry,” Lucifer winced, immediately trying to let up a little. 

“ Stop saying that ,” Alastor hissed through the sound of changing stations, venom sharpening his voice. 

Lucifer blinked, hands stilling.

“Uh, sorry?”

”You don’t get to do this,” Alastor ground out, his surge of anger doing little to hide the pain clear on his features. He leaned in closer. His breath smelled of coffee and cloves. “Not you, not to me.” 

Lucifer frowned right back at him. 

“I don’t actually enjoy seeing people in pain, you know? No, not even you.”

He glanced at his chest.

“Not like this, at least.”

Alastor's gaze was so intense he swore his eyes were actually glowing. ”Oh?” 

“Not by Heaven,” the word like the poison it had brought.

Alastor regarded him, teeth sharp and close, before humming, pleased for some reason. 

Lucifer just wanted the bloody hole yawning in front of him to be closed, finally, and for the demon to leave and have it all be over with. He pushed him back into the chair.

Tissue from the deepest part of the wound to the fibers that made up the skin knitted themselves together under Lucifer’s light. The humming was finally gone.

There was still leftover blood staining Alastor’s chest, sordid and already crusted in some places. Lucifer made a face and tugged a moist washcloth out of thin air, trying to wipe away the most of it. A flash, not quite deja-vu, of his own skin this afternoon, trembling with gold.

“You make a fool of him, you know that?”

Lucifer almost jumped at Alastor’s voice, his tongue sharp on every syllable while he looked down at him, smile small, eyebrows faintly furrowed.

”What?” was all Lucifer could think to say to that.

Pleased, Lucifer realized, he looked pleased with an edge of calculation . 

Alastor’s skin was warm, warm like a furnace and Lucifer wondered if he always was. It stood to reason for someone with this much going on, so much energy floating through him, someone with such stanchless drive, to run hot. Alastor was searching his face for something and for some reason, Lucifer let him. He felt faintly dizzy now, wan from the healing and the rollercoaster of insights and the general exhaustion that came with the going-ons of days. Alastor, having just been pulled apart at the seams and put back together again didn’t look tired, not in a way that mattered. In fact, he looked like a predator watching a prey in an open field. It sparked something like delight in Lucifer, alongside a begrudging envy. Alastor was warm.

Lucifer was still touching him.

He looked down, his hands still splayed on the other’s now closed up chest, fingers red and washcloth filthy .

Alastor had some fur on him, a reddish brown. 

Lucifer pulled his hands away like he’d been burned. 

Too quickly! Too quickly, that wasn’t normal! He refused to look Alastor in the face, instead focussing on disappearing the washcloth and the bloodied bandages that were still laying discarded on the chair and turning to the spindle, securing it before waving off the wheel to someplace save. Later, as soon as he had the time and mind to, he’d look at it. He’d add it to the list.  

“Well, there you go!” Lucifer gestured, “Good as new!” 

Alastor shrugged his shirt back on, buttoning it with a quick precision and steady fingers. Asshole. 

“So it does seem,” Alastor agreed, looking happy to receive his jacket from his dutiful shadow who looked a lot less like Edvard Munch’s The Scream now that its owner wasn’t bleeding out anymore.

Lucifer didn’t quite know what to say, watching Alastor gather himself, healed and back to health. He didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore.

“Though I do have to ask for this remains between us, of course.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. 

“Because we can’t have anyone know the big bad radio demon needed a patch up.”

”Quite! You of all people must know all a man has is his reputation! Haha!” 

The laugh track cut back in, grating as ever. Lucifer wanted to poke at him a little but he had just made a whole thing about not holding anything over Alastor’s head. He refused to drop the other shoe, so he pulled the zipper over his lips.

”Lips are sealed.” 

Alastor slapped him on the shoulder, hard enough for Lucifer to stumble a little .

“Good man!”

Lucifer shot him a glare. Alastor stood straight and looking pleased as punch to do so without pain. 

“Well, time for me to finally leave!” 

“Some beauty sleep in order?” 

“Hm,” is all Alastor replied, rubbing his monocle against his sleeve. “We’ll rip out that fireplace tomorrow afternoon. It can’t be saved.”

Lucifer’s brain creaked a little before he nodded his head. “Sure.”

With that Alastor took one last inscrutable look at him before lowering his chin once, sharply, and disappeared into the shadows. Lucifer stood alone, eyes fixed to the spot where Alastor had stood. The skin on his hands itched. Lucifer cringed at the blood drying on his fingers.

He opened a portal to his bathroom, holding his breath until he stood in in front of the sink. His fingers slipped on the handles, staining the gold. He scrubbed his hands until they felt raw and he then cleaned the sink with equal fervor. And then that passed too and the sink was clean, spotless, and Lucifer stared at it, becoming aware of another task completed. 

Feeling monumentally stupid, suddenly, uselessly still in his bathroom, in his body, he stalked into his bedroom, beckoning the spinning wheel back. He sat down in front of it, wiggling his fingers in the air to see where he wanted to begin. The gold thread greeted him with a hum, and Lucifer abruptly decided the last thing he wanted to do now was to spent time with this strange Heavenly weapon, this souvenir from Alastor’s injuries. 

And h e didn’t want to think about Alastor right now. And he wasn’t going to think about why he didn’t want to think about him.

He dismissed the spinning wheel.  

Workbench! His workbench, just in the corner of his room. Shuffling through the papers like a madman before catching sight of his bed and deciding that he would either set it on fire or throw it out of the window if he stayed here, so he tears open a portal and stumbles to the hotel lobby, just to be save. It was empty. What time was it? Lucifer walked out the side door. Foot in front of foot. Sat down on the steps.

A voice that wasn’t there told him to give himself a second to breathe.

“Okay, Lil,” he whispered into the still air. He breathed.

It was dark outside, a deep, cloaking pitch black. When Hell met night it surrendered to it completely. Many sinners would be hard pressed to find themselves outside of the city, which put up a valiant fight against the all-black with its networks of artificial light. 

This side of the hotel wasn’t lit up like the front was; it looked out over the gardens during the day. Lucifer had put the gardens there himself but he couldn’t recall what he had made them look like, and he could peer all he wanted, but in the cloaking dark he would find nothing.
Nothing but the gaze of the ever-expanding void.

Lucifer lit a small flame, a light floating above the tip of his index finger, just to remind the black what was chasing it. The shadows encroached to remind the Morningstar what it was chasing in turn. 

Hell was rarely cold. There had been the occasional freeze, about twice a century, just to keep its residents on its toes, but overall Hell was hot. The shadows whispered of an empty cold now, of stillness. The flame flickered in time with Lucifer’s shaking.

‘Charlie knows you’ve been out of sorts.’  

The little flame grew, wrapped itself around Lucifer’s hand. He bounced his leg, his stuttering mind sorting through filing cabinets, looking for anything to do.  His stomach cramped.

Coffee. Coffee from scratch because it tasted better, and there were steps to it, a process.

He stood in the kitchen in flash. He yanked open the cupboard a little too harshly. He didn’t want to go back to making ducks. For some reason the thought of them didn’t comfort him like they used to. He reached for the sink, weighing the water as it poured into the carafe. In the reflection of the window in front of him he saw a figure behind him, distinctly person-shaped.

Oh!

Lucifer spun around, now noticing the lights had indeed been on when he’d barreled into the kitchen. Vaggie stood wide eyed in her night clothes, soft grays and bunny slippers and a steaming cup of tea in her hand , looking a little more like she’d gotten caught with her fingers in the cookie jar instead of making herself a cup of tea in the kitchen of her own home.

“Oh!” Lucifer exclaimed, stilling, “Vaggie .”

“Sir,” she acknowledged with a stiff nod.

Right, he’d probably startled her.

“Sorry for barging in, haha, didn’t know anyone’d be around at this hour.”

Vaggie relaxed herself a little, some of that military steel keeping her should blades pinned back softening. She wrapped her other hand around her cup.

“Yeah, me neither.”

It was half a question and one Lucifer didn’t want to answer.

“I’m making coffee,” he said instead, heating the water in his hand. “You want some?”

Vaggie shook her head. “No, thank you, just some herbal tea for me. Trying to get back to sleep.”

Ah, opposite problems then.

Lucifer hummed, reaching to pluck the coffee grinder off the wall.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked without really thinking. “If it’s the gargoyles banging on the roof again, I can catapult them to the other side of the ring, if you like ?”

Beans, beans, beans, in what cupboard were the beans…

“Not that that will keep them away for longer than a few nights, stubborn little shits. No idea why they chose the hotel, but-!” he plucked the bag of coffee beans from the shelf, “I’ll take it as a compliment, gargoyles love my architecture.”

He turned on his toes, looking over the counter and making a scissoring motion with his fingers.

“Over there,” Vaggie pointed at a drawer on the other side of the kitchen.

“Ah, thank you.”

Lucifer made his way over and rummaged through it to find the scissors.

“But, uh, no,” Vaggie answered, “The gargoyles have been quiet, not bothering us anymore.”

Yeah, they were probably too busy ripping out roof tiles and trying to topple the chimney to screw each other on the ledge above Charlie and Vaggie’s bedroom window these days .

“Oh, good, good, good .”

He cut open the bag and weighed the coffee in his hand as he poured it into the grinder, the hearty, bitter smell of fresh coffee beans warming his nostrils. He hummed, grinding the the coffee down.

He heard Vaggie shuffle behind him, the sound of a cup being put down on the dinner table and the fridge opening.

His stomach growled.

Luc ifer spun the lever a little faster.

“Do you want some, sir?”

“Lucifer,” Lucifer corrected, before looking over his shoulder to show Vaggie he knew what kind of midnight snack she was actually offering before he turned it down.

She was holding a carton of milk. Oat milk, actually. Oh.

She shook it lightly. “I like a little splash in my tea, sometimes,” she clarified.

Lucifer stared at the carton in her hand, trying to decipher what he was feeling on the matter. Oat milk was really mostly water and disintegrated oats. There was nothing terribly complex going on there, nothing heavy. Something ached inside him, and for the first time in a while it seemed to outcry his reticence.

Vaggie had started looking at him a little funny, head slightly tilted. Lucifer nodded quickly.

“Uhm, yes. I’d like some too.”

He turned back to his coffee trying not to change his own mind on the decision he’d just made. It was just oat milk, he was fine. He shouldn’t be this weird about oat milk. He heard Vaggie move back a chair. The clock on above the stove ticked, slender hands moving forward as ever.

“Late night or early morning?”

Lucifer put in the filter. He hummed.

“ Yet to be seen.”

Vaggie huffed through her nose. “Right.”

Enough about him, enough about him.

“So, if it w asn’t the gargoyles, what has been keeping you up?”

He poured the hot water over the coffee grinds in circles. He counted down from thirty.

Vaggie took ten seconds to respond.

“ Never very good at sleeping through the night. Or at least, not since…”

Twelve, eleven, ten, nine…

‘Not since…’ could be finished by a lot of things. The last extermination, her first extermination, her most fateful extermination.

“Memories keeping you up?”

He heard Vaggie take a sip.

“You could say that.”

Two, one. Lucifer poured on more water, another countdown. Sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty-three.

He turned around to actually face his daughter’s partner, sitting at the table with her hair a little tangled and her hands clasped around her mug.

“I’m sorry,” Lucifer said, and he really meant it.

Vaggie shrugged, pursing her lips. She looked wary, old despite her youthful visage. “They’re my burdens to bear.”

Lucifer frowned slightly, tucking his chin . “ You’re a little young to resign to them , though.”

Vaggie’s eye widened slightly, as if the response caught her off guard enough to shake her awake a little more. She lowered her gaze to the steam rising from her tea.

Twenty-eight, twenty-seven, twenty-six .

“I’m not that young, sir -”

“Lucifer.”

“-Lucifer. And besides, they’re… I think there are things I should carry with me. As a reminder.”

Her voice was soft and deep and very determined, but Lucifer couldn’t agree, not completely. Not when she couldn’t get through the night.

“Tricky business, that. When are you learning from them and when are you just losing sleep?”

He shrugged, turning back for his third pour.

Vaggie’s fingernails clicked against her mug.

“Isn’t that… ” she trailed off with a frustrated breath through her nose.

Lucifer waited for her to finish the thought, but it remained quiet, just the soothing sound of the coffee bubbling and dripping through the filter. He stifled a yawn.

Two, one. Lucifer poured again and waited another twenty seconds in silence, hummed to himself and finally poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. He took a deep breath in, the familiar scent settling him. He turned to see Vaggie still contemplative at the table. Was she waiting for him to sit down too, or would she rather be alone again? She hadn’t left, though, which she could’ve done if she’d really wanted to be on her own, and there was something heavy and sad about the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks and her fingers clutched around her mug, and Lucifer felt terribly like she would try to carry the night on her shoulders if he left her to her own devices. He sat down on the opposite side of the table.

“I like your robe, ” Lucifer offered quietly.

Vaggie blinked at him, the darkness washing from her features momentarily. She looked at the purple sleeves of her night robe, eye trailing over the silver pattern flowering over it as if she was seeing it again for the first time. A small smile settled on her lips .

“Thank you. Charlie got me that . It was an anniversary present. ”

Lucifer felt his own smile pushing at his cheeks.

“ It was? What anniversary?”

Vaggie pulled at one of the threads that was coming loose at the hem.

“First week,” she smiled.

A surprised chuckle left Lucifer, feeling very pleased for the two in a way that warmed his chest.

“Well , when you know, you know.”

Vaggie actually blushed at that, which tickled Lucifer even more. She took a sip of her tea. She had never seemed like a big talker, at least not like Charlie was, and the night seemed to make her content to let some silence linger. Lucifer watched the florals move and bloom on her nightgown.

“ I was taught about you. ”

Lucifer’s gaze shot to Vaggie’s, who was looking at him with an openness he wouldn’t see during the day.

“ Back in Heaven, I mean,” she explained.

Which was something Lucifer had wondered about, even if he hadn’t wanted to, if there were whisper of him up there still, just like there was on earth.

“S’pose you would.” His voice close to a whisper. The questions were dancing over his tongue (who, when, how, what) but he bit down on it.

“It’s… that was strange , when I first got here. Especially since I met Charlie so quickly…”

Vaggie trailed off, and she seemed clueless as to what she wanted to say next. Which stood to reason, Lucifer supposed, as she had been an army woman, and what general worth their pay would encourage them developing lip. He let her find the words and read the back of the oat milk carton instead.

Water, oats, rapeseed oil, acidity regulators -

“You’re very different from the stories.”

Lucifer met her gaze, which she held steadily but with an edge of discomfort, as if she didn’t fully know if she’d stepped right, gearing up to be apologetic. It was sweet and unnecessary.

“Well,” he swallowed, “the whole thing did happen ten thousand years ago.”

Lots of things escaped him, present and past, but no matter how much time passed and how many gaps in his memory yawned and stretched, he’ll never be able to escape knowing his fall with crystal-clear intimacy.

“No, si- Lucifer. I think they’re lying about that too, on purpose.”

And Lucifer didn’t want to laugh at her, not when she was sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the night in her slept on nightclothes wearing equally purple dark circles, but he’d always had a bit of a mean streak. Vaggie’s fingers tightened around her cup.

“Heaven,” he heaved on a tight little breath stuck in his chest, “is the victor, and the victor writes the history. I’m the first thing they’d have to mythologize.”

Vaggie took that in, pursed lips and knitted brows.

“They… there are so many things about Heaven, about everything they told me that just… keep falling apart.”

“There are worse things they lied about, Vaggie, and they’ll continue to lie about.”

Vaggie nodded and stared into her tea, seemingly uncomfortable with Lucifer’s apologetic tone.

“Yeah. I, of all people, should know that.”

The corners of her mouth pulled down and for a moment it looked like her bottom lip would start to tremble. Vaggie pressed her lips tight in opposition. As if it would all be so bad.

“Is that what’s been keeping you up?” Lucifer asked her, tilting his head slightly so he’d be in her field of vision.

“No. Well, yes, but… I don’t know,” Vaggie released a sighing breath and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Lucifer wondered what Charlie would do at this point, and remembered her enthusiastically telling him about the principles of motivational interviewing, and though he didn’t recall most of it, he thinks there’s not a lot Charlie would have against the following question.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Vaggie blinked owlishly at him, gaze darting over his face, before she smiled in a way that crinkled her eyes, a giggle breaking away from her.

“I’m sorry,” she laughed behind her hand, “you just… you look so much like Charlie it’s almost a little unreal.”

Lucifer couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. “Do you talk to her about it? I’m sure she would be happy to listen.”

Vaggie cleared her throat, as if her giggling had been some sort of involuntary failing of the throat. “I mean, I do, but… I can’t wake her up every night.” She shrug and rolls her eye slightly, self-deprecating. “Charlie deserves her rest.”

And Lucifer could agree, though he didn’t like the way Vaggie seemed to deflate under it. Charlie did need her rest, she did terribly without it, and he supposed if Vaggie had already discussed it with her there was no need to wake her about it every night. Lucifer had spent countless nights avoiding his own bed, avoiding Lilith for fear of keeping her up as well, it would be terribly hypocritical to of him to chide her.

“Just like you do, too .”

Vaggie chuckled and this time it was a little uglier, raw in the back of her throat.

“It’s a little different for me, sir.”

Lucifer raised a brow at that.

“ Really ?”

Vaggie looked very much like she regretted opening her mouth. “I’m… I’ve got some skeletons in my closet.”

She took a sip from her tea. Oh, Lucifer’s coffee. He lifted the mug to his mouth and Vaggie gestured at the forgotten carton on the table.

“Didn’t you want some some milk with that?”

Lucifer halted, coffee on his lips. Right.

The packaging was blue. There was an illustration on it of a cartoon cow being shot with a machine gun and the phrase ‘no more cows’ printed above it. It was apparently the number two best selling cow milk alternative on the market.

And Vaggie was offering it. His stomach cramped on nothing. Maybe it would take off of the edge.

Lucifer nodded.

“Yes, of course.”

He poured, a splash of white amongst the brown, and he had to admit it curled and mixed quite prettily.

He took a sip. It was fine. A little sweeter, milder. It was fine.

“It’s nice,” Vaggie said, voice close to a whisper, “this is nice.”

Lucifer blinked at her and Vaggie blushed, a deep purple dusting the apples of her cheeks, but she pushed through, brave as she was.

“I don’t really like the night, or, not anymore . Guess Charlie has gotten me used to… people.”

Lucifer felt so very fond of her.

“I can come join you more often, if you’d like that.”

She met his gaze like the offer was the biggest surprise in the world, open and young, before she put it right behind something else again, something hesitant and cross, and she turned her face away.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m not the one who-”

She cut herself off, her bangs shielding most of her face. She reminded him of Charlie, when she had cut her hair in a way that she could hide behind, anxious and angry at most everything. Thank the stars those feelings had been short lived. Maybe that emboldened him to put a hand on hers around her tea mug.

“Vaggie, dear,” he started, voice low, “you’re in already Hell, there’s no use punishing yourself further.”

Vaggie didn’t pull her hand away.

“It was all a lie,” she whispered, hissing, angry, “I killed, went down again and again, just because they told me to, and none of it was real.”

Lucifer gave her hand a squeeze.

“We can only do the best we can by the light we have to see by.” The words were old and heavy on his tongue. “You can’t blame yourself for not seeing when you were purposely left in the dark. ”

Vaggie was quiet for a moment, swallowing past something.

“ You’re being nice to me .”

Lucifer huffed and settled back a little , taking his hand with him.

“I believe what I’m saying, if that’s what you mean by that.”

Vaggie didn’t move or reply, just breathed sharply through her nose.

“Vaggie,” Lucifer sighed, breath warm in his chest, “if Charlie taught me anything it’s that you kind of have to believe in second chances to sell them.”

Finally Vaggie looked up, face tired and eye glassy, but after a moment the corner of her mouth curled up slightly.

“Yeah.” Her hands wrung around her mug. “I guess that’s true.”

Lucifer drank his coffee and Vaggie drank her tea. He might’ve thought Vaggie wanted to say something else, but she wasn’t a woman who spoke when she saw no reason to, so a companionable silence settled between them. Her quota for divulging about feelings must’ve been filled, for now. Lucifer usually got a bit squirmy in the silence, but it didn’t bother him too much now.

Vaggie took a last swig of tea.

“Well,” she filled the quiet as she stood, “I better go back to bed .”

Lucifer raised his mug in goodbye.

“Good night, Vaggie.”

“Good night, si- Lucifer.”

The space in which she had sat across the table felt cold and still.

Vaggie paused in the doorway, hesitating, one hand pushing the door ajar. When she made up her mind she met his eyes steadily.

“She really missed you when you were n’t there.”

Vaggie’s voice was soft but undeniably accusing and Lucifer’s blood stuttered in his veins.

“It would break her heart if you go silent on her again.”

“I-,” Lucifer found his throat closing up on him, “I won’t.”

“Good,” she nodded at him before letting herself melt slightly, a rare playfulness rounding her cheeks in a way that looked so fitting on her Lucifer wondered what kind of woman she would have been if she hadn’t been trained and twisted to kill. “Especially since you’re my midnight tea break compadre now.”

Lucifer pulled up the corners of his mouth.

”I’ll workshop that name.”  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Goodnight.”

And she was gone.

Lucifer sat alone in the kitchen, staring at the door before staring at the chair opposite of him. The edges of the table shivered and darkened. His eyes hurt.

Lucifer stood abruptly, chair screeching over the kitchen tiles. He had his coffee, he talked to Vaggie, morning was on its way.

The coffee hadn’t helped like he had hoped it would have. It was balmy in the kitchen, pleasant. It dulled him, and it was still dark outside.

Library, second floor, west wing.

Surely Alastor wouldn’t mind if he continued without him, just for a few hours. And who cares if he did? Lucifer sure didn’t. And if Alastor thought to complain about it to Charlie, Lucifer would just hang the fact he saved his life over his head. Who cares. He never pinky-swore on it.

Chapter Text

Charlie had been an early riser as a child, as perhaps all children are. A conscientious child, she wouldn’t barge in to jump up on the bed and wake her parents in the early morning or make a mess for them to find once they left their bedroom. Instead, she would just wander around. Quietly ambling around the palace, into the gardens; anywhere where her eyes could catch onto something new or familiar worth her time. And everything seemed to be worth her time. It shouldn’t surprise Lilith or Lucifer who were both deeply curious people, lovers and inventors. But time tends to sand things down, even one’s driving forces, and Charlie reminded them of little miracles. Surely, they must’ve looked like her in the eyes of their Creator, stumbling around in undiluted awe, pointing fingers at things so commonplace it took Lilith and Lucifer a couple of minutes to blink the dust from their eyes and see the thing in question anew.

Charlie had always been a great gift.

One day, early in the morning, a very young Charlie ventured to do something forbidden and snuck out of the garden on her own. She must have wandered a mile through the city in her slippers and nightgown, before circling right back to the gate, which she used as a tumble bar until her mother found her, half out of her mind with worry. Charlie hadn’t understood what the problem was.

Lucifer warded the garden from both sides, something Lilith had disagreed with after recovering from her fright and something they had exchanged hours worths of words on. Lilith, who knew well about being trapped before gaining freedom in her exile, put her foot down. While Lucifer, who had known freedom before finding himself trapped in his exile, did the same. Neither could be swayed, and unaccustomed to disagreeing with each other so stanchlessly the discussion led nowhere. Lilith, suffering from the same affliction her husband did, was allergic to being told what to do and decided to take Charlie with her; a supervised visit to a quiet-ish part of the city to sate her curiosity and show her a piece of her world.

That night, Lucifer (who perhaps would’ve been able to be persuaded to agree on the merits of a supervised trip had his wife brought it up ahead of time) slept on the couch for the first time since Charlie’s birth; furious and slighted and polishing his bruised devotion to his own ideas. He hadn’t slept a wink.

The brand-new couch in the brand-new library of his daughter’s brand-new hotel had betrayed Lucifer, in a way.

Where the old couch in the library of the palace had only ever been used for sleepless nights (were it due to trying to bottle-feed a fussy baby or piecing together a furiously hurt ego), the new couch in the hotel had gotten the wrong idea. Luxurious and deep, it had lulled Lucifer into a false sense of comfort, and as Hell’s day chased away the night, he had been fast asleep in the middle of it.

It was usually how he preferred to find his sleep, his body and mind turning off the lights before Lucifer could even tell that it was happening; sleep so needed and deep even dreams couldn’t find him. However, when Lucifer woke up from his dreamless sleep this morning it was with a pulse of panic.

Light, there was bright light streaming in through the yet curtain-less windows, which made him realize he had been asleep to begin with. With mounting dread he pushed himself away from the pillows and reached for his tablet. It clicked on. The time shone proudly from the screen. 10:37 AM. Lucifer cursed. Late.

And the sleep hadn’t helped, the sleep hadn’t even helped.

With head and heart pounding he shot up, world spinning as he stood on his two feet. He stumbled. Geez.

It was now that Lucifer could admit, could reconcile, that maybe he hadn’t been holding up like he had thought, and that he hadn’t been holding up for a while. Maybe it was the few hours of sleep that gave him the clarity of mind to see that even though he didn’t feel like a rock sinking to the bottom of a bottomless lake sitting alone in his quiet workshop in an empty palace- that didn’t mean feeling half on fire at the other side of the pendulum swing was serving him much better.

The realization made him bang his head against the arm holding him steady against the wall. If this wasn’t enough, what would be? In what reality would he stop falling apart all the time? In which room would he be okay? The world slowly stopped spinning and Lucifer fought the urge to dig his claws into himself with gritted teeth.

He’d missed breakfast. He missed breakfast and Charlie liked to have breakfast together and he liked to make breakfast for her and he’d missed it, hadn’t Vaggie just told him to be better?

Shake it out.

Well, shake he did, alright.

He portalled to his bathroom, caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaced. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tidy himself up a little. He needed a wash. He needed a fresh shirt and he needed to brush his teeth.

These tasks shouldn’t feel insurmountable.

First step to fixing yourself is seeing something needs to be fixed at all. Yes, right, that’s probably something Charlie would say.

“Okay!”

Lucifer clapped his hands together, got to work. Combed his hair, washed his face, changed into fresh clothes with a snip of his fingers. He looked presentable, in his opinion. He’d always had trouble with the bags under his eyes but he supposed he had been running around with them for a while now and no one seemed to notice or care to point them out.

“I’m normal,” he smiled at himself in the mirror, cheeks aching, “I’m so-o-o normal.”

He dragged his hands over his vest, straightening what hadn’t been wrinkled to begin with.

“Had some sleep,” he slapped his cheeks a little, rouging them, “did some work…” deep breath, in and out, “I’m cool. Cool, cool, cool. The coolest.”

He would meet Charlie downstairs in the middle of some class and he’d apologise for not being there at breakfast and she would forgive him because she seemed to be in the habit of that and he’d make her a breakfast tomorrow morning with everything she liked and more.

Yes. Lucifer could redeem himself here. Maybe he’d even head down to the kitchen, get something light to eat. Put the old digestive system back to work. Yes, that would probably be wise. He’d stopped doing that.

He was about to put on his jacket and hat when he remembered Charlie had told him to take it easy. He should look relaxed. Off duty. He’d forego them today.

He curled his claw around his cane and walked to the door. Best chance to find Charlie was to actually walk instead of teleporting to random places in the hotel. Just through the door!

Lucifer remained rooted in front of it. He laughed, forced and short.

“Okay!,” he looked at the golden door-handle. “One, two, three!”

Counting down did not magically open the door. His hand floated above the door-handle.

“For God’s sakes, man,” he hissed through his smile, “open the fucking door.”

His hand shook in the air.

His eye twitched. “Well!”

If not volens then nolens! He portalled himself to the other side of the door. Take that.

Charlie wasn’t in the lobby, or the rec-room, or the art-studio, or the yoga-studio, or her office, or the gym, or the pool, and he didn’t dare knock on the ‘private talk and advice rooms’ (Charlie refused to call herself a psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever new fancy words the young souls had come up with, even though she had read most all the books she could get her hands on, which Lucifer thought was unfair. What, did she need someone to appoint her psychologist? He could do that, a psychologist appointed by the King! It was probably more than most psycholiatrists or whatever had going on down here.) lest he interrupt, but when he opened up some eyes to peek inside the room she wasn’t in there either. As it were, the entire hotel was a bit quieter than usual, most of the guests staying in their room or seemingly out on the town. He hoped they hadn’t left for good. Charlie had just passed the twenty-guest milestone.

He was making his way down again when he heard laughter coming from the kitchen, bright as bells. Oh! Well, that was simple. He supposed he shouldn’t have assumed.

The multiple voices coming from behind the kitchen door became more discernible the closer he got. Charlie was clearly in there, laughing at some story Angel (not a name he’d forget) was loudly telling and Vaggie had cut in once, along with what sounded like a wry comment from the barman, Mmmmus… Mmm…Hummus… Hhh… Husk! Yes, Husk.

The radio was on as well.

Which could mean nothing.

Lucifer hesitated in front of the kitchen door. It sounded like they were having fun. It all sounded very… enthusiastic. Intense.

He could do that; he’d been to a million intense functions and parties and the like. Kind of came with the title, kind of came with being Lilith’s husband. They had always done stuff like that together, though. But this was just a handful of people, just Charlie’s friends who she asked him to get along with. This could be an opportunity, actually! To get to know them! And one didn’t even need to speak that much to get to know the other. Certainly, Lucifer had learned a lot about sinners without necessarily needing to even utter a word to most of them. He could just sit down and watch them talk and nod and smile politely. That’s usually how people liked him best anyways. So.

Showtime!

He pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen and watched Angel wave his arms around in some recounting of a clearly enthralling story judging by the wide eyes Charlie was giving him as she leaned over the kitchen table. She perked up when she noticed her father coming in, her expression surprised before she smiled brightly.

“Oh, good morning, dad!”

Spines went stiff. Vaggie snapped tight like someone had just come in to inspect the muster of the troops (which Lucifer felt a little put out by, hadn’t they kind of bonded last night?), Husk lost some of his fond amusement and relaxed posture in favor of sourly glancing at his boss, and said boss’s (who was indeed present and standing in the corner of the kitchen, watching the proceedings like a zoologist observing his species of interest) smile became particularly plasticky as he wove his hands behind his back in a show of guardedness.

Right. He forgot about all that sometimes. Had it not been for countless years of managing himself, he would have taken a step back at the change in atmosphere.

“Hey Char,” he greeted back, hand tight around his cane an smile wide, “couldn’t find you, and, uhm, the hotel seems a little… quiet.”

“Oh, everyone’s having a day off,” Charlie tilted her head. “I told you about that.”

There were coffee cups on the table, half empty, and plates with only crumbs left. They had been… wrapping up brunch.

He could feel his heart rate spike. “Oh, right, sure, sure, sure, must’ve, ah, jotted down the wrong date in my agenda, ha! Your old man can be so scatterbrained.” He fluttered his fingers next to his temple.

“That’s alright,” Charlie said, frowning slightly. She gave him a close-lipped smile and an assessing look before opening her mouth to say something else, and Lucifer watched the slow parting of lips like he was witnessing it in slow motion. She was going to ask how he was doing because he had forgotten what she had told him, now, when he didn’t know what he should answer her at all, here, in front of all her friends. He felt his entire body freeze up, blood rushing to his ears.

Angel was watching him too.

“Good to see ya, Shorty,” he cut through the white noise with ease, expression friendly and voice loud. He greeted him with a small wave before turning right back to Charlie. “Anyways, Charles, so I drag Emerald away from the payphone and I can still hear Allison screamin’ bloody f’kin’ murder on the other side…”

Lucifer… appreciated Angel.

He stood with that epiphany for a few seconds, hands empty.

Something tugged at his trousers.

“Hi, Mr. bad boy,” the little cyclops maid purred at him.

“Good morning,” Lucifer greeted back, thinking it best to be polite.

She (Mimzy? No that didn’t seem right) snickered at him, reaching out to tug at his hand, which Lucifer judged best to just go along with.

“You wanna sit down next to me?”

She batted her one eye and giggled a little. Lucifer had been flirted with in his life countless times (those ten thousand years of life and being the most powerful person in any given room), which tended to make him feel sickened at worst and flattered at best, but it didn’t often leave him endeared. However, for some reason he found himself quite charmed by this bug legged cleaning lady that came up to his hip, asking him if he wanted to sit next to her at the breakfast table which uninhibited glee. She was quite cute if she wasn’t climbing him without warning or scurrying around vibrating with bloodlust.

Lucifer smiled down at her, which was a little easier now, and told her that he’d be happy to sit next to her if she’d like that.

He hadn’t even finished his sentence before she was dragging him to the table.

“Angel was telling us a diiiirty story,” she filled him in, and Lucifer could see Vaggie making an effort to relax her shoulders again from the corner of his eye. The gesture was appreciated.

Miffy stopped in front of the chairs and raised her brow at Lucifer, expectant. Lucifer stared at her for a second which made her cross her arms and purse her lips.

“Oh! Right! Where are my manners.” Lucifer pulled the chair away from the table. “My lady,” he said in a a low tone, which made Niffy- Niffty! squeal and Alastor’s eyes narrow in distaste. Charlie threw him a quick smile. He wanted to greet her and ask her how she was but caught himself before he rudely interrupted Angel.

He took his seat in between Niffty and his daughter and tried sink into the the background of Angel’s story. He had to admit, he was a great storyteller. Lucifer was intrigued even though he had no idea what or who he was talking about, hands sailing around the air and voice climbing up and down octaves. He hoped the others were slowly forgetting he was even there.

Niffty was swinging her legs up and down restlessly, as if she wasn’t used to or pleased about sitting down. She kicked his knee.

“What?” he half whispered.

“Bored,” she simply said, before falling quiet for a moment. Then she gasped before leaning a bit closer to him. Lucifer leaned sideways to hear her better. “You need to help me,” she whispered.

Lucifer raised a brow at her. “With what?”

“Huge roach!” She shouted suddenly, her arms exploding outward together with the noise. Lucifer startled a little while Angel, who had seemingly been wrapping up his story anyways, fell quiet before letting out a surprised laugh.

“It’s up in the rafters, hiding from me, the sneaky thing. But not for long, hehehe.” She wrung her hands and snickered, shadows falling over her face.

“What, where?” Vaggie asked, looking up at the ceiling.

“Not here! In the attic!” Niffty.

“There’s roaches in the attic now?” Charlie bemoaned.

“No!” Niffty shook her head. “One huge monster roach, like this big.” She spread her arms wide.

“Ew,” Lucifer and Angel said at the same time.

“Now don’t be scared,” Niffty assured them, “I’ll kill it badly. Alastor gave me all kinds of new knifes.”

Charlie shot Alastor a look which he ignored.

Husk snorted. “Niff, promised she’d only use them for killing roaches.”

“Hmh, yep!” Niffty nodded. “That’s why you’re coming along.” She clutched at Lucifer’s arm.

Alastor laughed at that, loud and grating. “Niffty, I understand your confusion, but that is his majesty, not the monster roach.”

Lucifer would have loved to say something about that but was quite interrupted when he found himself with a lap-full of Niffty. She put her hands on his cheeks and angled her big round eye at his face.

“Ah, Niff-” Husk tried to interfere.

“Please!” She shouted, pleading, “please, please, please fly me up to the rafters and help me kill. I need your wiiinnngggsss.”

“Alrwight,” Lucifer acquiesced between his smushed cheeks, “sure.”

“Yay!” Niffty threw up her hands in celebration and instantly jumped off his lap.

Lucifer moved his jaw side to side and gave Charlie an alarmed look. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged, but he saw the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. She was happy.

“Are you coming or what! Let’s kill Eustace!” Niffty ordered.

“I guess I’ll see you later,” Lucifer huffed.

Charlie fought a grin. “Good luck, dad.”

Niffty tugged at his pant-leg again. Angel and Vaggie were both poorly suppressing their laughter and Husk was smirking at the little housekeeper’s antics.

It was nice. It was a lot of people and noises and faces to keep track of, but it was nice. He hadn’t upset anyone and they’d been agreeable in turn. They all looked at ease, as light as one could be in Hell. No blood drawn.

Maybe, big capital letter ‘M’ Maybe- it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know Charlie’s friends a little better.

First up, some murder with Niffty.

Lucifer didn’t know why he was actually surprised that there had, in fact, been a roach-adjacent creature of grotesque proportions hanging around under the slanted roof of the attic. While he had recoiled in alarm and disgust at the sight of it, unparalleled angelic power be damned, Niffty had cackled and run over to it like a woman on a mission. She had looked up and jumped at the high ceiling, waving around her weapon to show Lucifer she had no way to reach it. He could just zap it out of the rafters, but Lucifer remembered what had happened the time he’d tried to take care of the vermin in his room himself. The last thing he wanted to do was rob Niffty of her joie de vivre.

“Oooh, Eustace,” she taunted, buzzing with anticipation, “it’s over for you now…”

She looked over her shoulder, tapping her foot. “You’re gonna give me uppies or what?”

Lucifer gave her uppies.

Niffty yielded her new silver knife (really, it was more like a spike with a handle) with zealous abandon. Eustace (it was even more unclear what Lucifer was looking at now that he was close to it, some accumulation of residue from multiple sources of demonic power, the sludge in a drain hole) was a slow thing and with Lucifer holding Niffty afloat it was an unfair fight. The sight of the thing being stabbed over and over, gutted and groaning, was enough to make Lucifer’s stomach turn, but Niffty was cackling so loudly and clearly enjoying herself so much, he supposed it was worth it. He could do without the goo splattering all over him though.

Back down Niffty held the thing over her head like a prize.

“I’m gonna give it to Alastor,” she informed him.

“Uhm.” Lucifer let some magic wash over the both of them, cleaning them of Eustace’s goo. Well, as well as he could with her still holding the damned thing. “I’m sure he’ll like it.”

She chuckled darkly, a melodious crackling from deep within her chest. “No, he won’t.”

Lucifer laughed along with her at that. Niffty grabbed his hand with her goo covered one and swung it back and forth as they walked through the halls, humming and dragging the creature's corpse behind her. It was very easy for Lucifer to warm up to Niffty.

“It’s the best thing,” she said, breaking her tune and stopping in the middle of the hallway to look up at him, right in the eyes before staring at his hands. “Keep the baddest man around to keep the bad men out the door.”

She looked quite serious, suddenly. Quite like she had indeed lived a life or two.

Lucifer stared at the little woman and felt the muscles in his throat, under his jaw, tighten. He swallowed. He wanted to assure her that with him here, she wouldn’t have to worry about any bad men, not even her boss, if she didn’t want to.

Somehow Lucifer doubted that would be the case. Niffty was quicker anyways.

“And you know,” she whispered, titling her head, “if you don’t stop shaking people will think you’re a pansy.”

Lucifer paused and blinked before huffing.

“Thanks for the advice.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll just stab ‘em,” Niffty hummed, and Lucifer got the idea this was meant to reassure him. It was… kind of her, in a way.

“Sure,” he chuckled, “We’ll just stab ‘em.”

A loud crackle of half-tuned radio lashed through the hallway, making Lucifer jump.

“What’s all this talk of stabbing before noon?”

Alastor materialized smile first, shadows curling and forming into something solid from the ground up.

“Very dramatic entrance,” Lucifer deadpanned, covering so Alastor didn’t get the satisfaction of knowing he had actually startled him.

The way Alastor grinned down at him informed Lucifer there was a good chance he’d been seen through, though.

“Alastor!” Niffty exclaimed and bounced on her feet, letting go of Lucifer’s hand in favor of holding up Eustace in front of her chest. Lucifer stuck out the bottom of his cane it to help raise the thing up when Niffty’s arms wobbled under the weight of it.

“We got you a present!”

Lucifer grinned along.

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter but his nose wrinkled at the sight in front of him, and Lucifer pursed his lips trying not to laugh.

“Did you now?”

“Yes!” Niffty wiggled the thing. “I killed the biggest roach I could find for the roach king.”

Lucifer couldn’t help himself. “You’re the roach king?”

Alastor sucked in his cheeks and ignored him.

“Ah!” Niffty gasped, “two royals!”

Alastor sniffed, features slightly sour. “Thank you Niffty, what a very thoughtful present.”

She giggled gutturally. It was kind of strange seeing Alastor acting… nice.

“You can… drop it off in my room.”

“Yes sir!” Niffty jiggled the thing again. “Eustace will look great mounted on your wall.”

“The roach,” Lucifer supplied as Alastor raised a brow.

“I figured,” he replied shortly.

Niffty dropped Eustace to the floor and wrapped her hands around two of its legs, starting to drag it through the halls.

“You need help with that, Niffty?” Lucifer could easily portal her to the other floor.

“I like dragging,” she grinned toothily. “Thanks for helping me kill him, it was fun.”

Lucifer couldn’t help letting out a short laugh at the strange compliment. “Anytime.” Which he hoped she wouldn’t take literally.

And off she scuttled.

Alastor was watching him, smile close lipped and silent.

Great.

Lucifer rolled onto his tippy toes and back to his heels and then the silence indeed got a little too heavy. He opened his mouth to excuse himself when Alastor spoke.

“Your hand is covered in gore.”

Lucifer looked down at the hand Niffty had been holding.

“Oh,” Lucifer grimaced, shaking some off it off. “Gross.” He snapped the fingers of his clean hand, doing away with it.

When he looked back up Alastor was tilting his head at him in an unnatural angle.

“How strange to see our almighty king walk hand in hand with such an insignificant little sinner.”

Lucifer frowned. “Come on, Al.”

“But isn’t it a fact?” he goaded. “To you, she is nothing but a tiny, tainted soul, a speck of dust.”

He didn’t know what Alastor was playing at but whatever it was, it was rubbing Lucifer the wrong way.

“You’re being a dick, even more than usual.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes as he loomed a little closer. “Yes.”

“Well, stop it if you can.” Lucifer wrinkled his nose.

Lucifer hoped Alastor was at least always nice to Niffty’s face like he’d just been.

He noticed the stripe of goo trailing through the hallways where Niffty had dragged Eustace away.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to clean up this mess.”

Alastor took a step to the side so Lucifer wouldn’t walk into him.

“Clean up the mess the housekeeper made?” He asked with a quirked brow.

It would be great if the guy could go one minute without making fun of him.

“Yeah, well,” he said, wiggling his fingers over the stains, “I helped her kill it didn’t I? Besides, I’m sure she gets sick of washing bloodstains out of carpets.”

Alastor was quiet behind him for a moment, long enough for Lucifer to think he had left. (And no, he would not check, because he didn’t care wether he had or hadn’t). Then Alastor hummed, a tone Lucifer didn’t really know what to make of.

“Charlie wants to see you in the kitchen at one,” he delivered. “Can I tell her you’ll be there? In time as well?”

Lucifer spun around, indignant. “Of course you can, asshole.”

Alastor was smiling at him with his hands behind his back. “Just checking. You seem to have some trouble with… punctuality, I’ve noticed. That’s all.”

Lucifer could honestly strangle the man.

“That’s all,” he mimicked nasally.

“That’s all,” Alastor repeated coolly.

Lucifer shook his head, extremely annoyed his previous (rare) good mood was getting squashed again.

“Just tell her I’ll be there,” he grumbled.

Alastor widened his eyes in faux apology. “I was simply trying to be thorough, your majesty! We wouldn’t want you to lose track of the clock and keep Charlie waiting, I think she’s done her fair share of that.”

Lucifer was breathing smoke through his nose, an action Alastor seemed to find terribly interesting based on his ears standing to attention and the narrowing of his eyes.

“Tread carefully, Al,” Lucifer threatened.

Alastor just watched him for a moment, seemingly waiting, before his smile turned even smugger than it had been before.

“Not going to hold anything in particular over my head, sir?”

“Erasing you out of existence with a snap of my fingers particular enough for you?”

Alastor waved a hand. “Oh, you with those unoriginal little jibes.” Lucifer opened his mouth to let him know Alastor really shouldn’t be messing around with someone who could actually do all that, but Alastor was quicker once again.

“Now,” he said, voice loud and twirling his cane, “you just remember to clock in in an hour and I’ll be out of your majesty’s hair.”

Lucifer locked his jaw and nodded, turning his back to him again, following the trail of Eustace’s fluids.

“Just fuck off, Al.”

“Ha, the pleasure’s all mine!” he shouted after him. “Such big things to find out about such little men.”

Lucifer rounded the corner. “Not a man,” he muttered, “asshole.”

Now that Alastor had accused him of being terrible with time (which he was- one hundred percent, absolutely, guilty as charged- but do try to find a being ten thousand years old who could make sense of the concept) Lucifer really, really couldn’t be late. He looked at the time on his phone what felt like every minute, which was also a fun way to find out Lucifer did not know what a minute was. When the clock let him know it was two to one he made his way downstairs. He checked the time when he stood in front of the kitchen door. A minute early.

He heard Charlie’s voice coming from the kitchen and Lucifer let himself bask in the melody of it. She’s always had such a lovely voice. Lucifer wondered if she even remembered how loud she could get. That had been a thing to get used to when they’d just gotten her. Her cries, even when she’d been a tiny little baby, could shake the foundations of even the sturdiest buildings. Their little baby’s cries making the palace shake! Oh, they’d been the proudest parents in the world. But they really couldn’t have any guests (apart from the sins) visiting them before they were certain Charlie wasn’t going to rupture their eardrums at any given moment. That would not have been hospitable. Lucifer hadn’t mind that in the least.

When he pushed the door open he was greeted by the sight of his daughter and her girlfriend, relaxed and in love and chatting, Charlie sitting on the counter and Vaggie leaning against it, her back to him.

“Charlie, dear,” Lucifer interrupted their conversation.

“Dad!” Charlie’s face lit up and Lucifer tried desperately to feel deserving of it.

“How did it go with Niffty?”

“Oh, fine, fine! She’s got real chutzpah!”

“Yeah,” Charlie smiled half-apologetically, “you can say that.”

“But, uhm,” he twisted his fingers around each other, “you wanted to see me?”

“Oh, yes!”

Charlie hopped off the counter, which was not that big of a jump with her long legs, and pulled open the fridge.

“Because you slept in and didn’t get to have breakfast with us, and then Niffty just dragged you off…”

Lucifer turned his wedding ring round and round.

“Vaggie and I actually made breakfast this morning,” Charlie continued, head in fridge. “Well, not all of it, but we made…” she pulled out a plate and held it triumphantly in front of her, “pancakes! Just like you always used to make me!”

Lucifer stared at the line where the skin of her hand dented slightly under the edge of the pink plate.

“With buttermilk and cinnamon. We saved them for you. I can warm them up in the microwave if you like.”

Lucifer dragged his eyes towards Charlie’s, swallowing on nothing.

“Thank you dear, that’s very thoughtful of you.”

Charlie blew a raspberry as the compliment and waved her hand.

“Don’t mention it, can’t have you go hungry under my roof, hey?” She jutted out an elbow and winked at him, caricatured, like she was making a joke.

All Lucifer could manage was a smile so sharp it rivaled the pangs of guilt-hunger-guilt rolling in his stomach. She’d turned her back on him again to put the plate on the counter and rummage through the cupboard.

“What would you like on your pancakes? We’ve got syrup, treacle, powdered sugar- oh! Husk had his with butter and honey, maybe you’d like that.”

Lucifer didn’t think this was a question he could think about, let alone answer. He searched for something, anything, spun his wedding ring in never-ending circles.

“Have you spent the entire morning in the kitchen?”

Vaggie leaned back and rested her elbows on the counter, young and handsome as she smirked. “No, we haven’t, actually.”

“Just a good chunk of it,” Charlie confessed, glancing indulgently at Vaggie, before turning back to her father. “We haven’t had a day off in, well… a long time. And we had other plans but… We just kind of got stuck in the kitchen. The heart of the home, and all that.”

The look she exchanged with Vaggie was so syrupy sweet, so deeply adoring that Lucifer almost felt like he should give them some privacy.

“The kitchen’s cozy,” was all he could come up with after the silence dragged on a little long while his daughter was making heart-eyes at her girlfriend. He considered the angular, wooden chairs around the dinging table. “Maybe I should put in some more comfortable chairs…”

“Hm?” Charlie tilted her head at him, needing a second to register his words. “Oh, the chairs are fine.”

“But they’re not very comfortable if you’re gonna spend a lot of time in here. Neither is the counter for that matter.”

Vaggie chuckled. “Maybe we should put a couch in here.”

Charlie made a face. “In the kitchen? Gross.”

“I’m joking, babe.”

Lucifer nervously delighted as the conversation dragged them away from the plate on the counter. A couch!

“Well, you young ladies will be pleased to know there’s a very comfortable couch in the library right now,” he singsonged the good news.

A line appeared between Charlie’s brows. “Huh?” Lucifer didn’t really know what that meant, but thankfully she deigned to elaborate. “There’s a couch in the library?” As if that was such a silly notion.

“Yes, of course!” He answered with a twirl of his cane, “With blankets and pillows galore and all the books you could want to read, as per your request.” He almost took a bow.

Charlie had never been very good at hiding her feelings; even when she tried, they seep over her features like water through a leaky dam. And she sure was trying now, smile tight as her brows pinched in non-comprehension.

“You already finished it? The library? Last night?”

Was that… Was he not meant to do that? He floundered as he tried to think of what would be best to say.

“Uhm-”

“I thought you slept in?”

Had he said that? He didn’t recall actually saying that. But it wasn’t a lie.

“I did!” He exclaimed, trying to be assuring.

He watched Vaggie raise a brow. It wasn’t a lie!

Charlie rubbed her arm with a hand. “I thought you were going to… try to take it easier?” She tried for an airy smile at the end of her sentence.

“Oh, uhm, I had a lot of help!” He tried to placate, “From Alastor! We were a real…” he bared his teeth as he looked for words, “prrroductive team,” he finished, rolling the ‘r’ in what he hoped came across as enthusiasm. “We worked a little late, but we were done before we knew it! Pfew, time just flew by!”

The girls looked apologetically unconvinced.

“You and Alastor worked well together?” Charlie asked, tugging at her fingers.

“Like salt and pepper.” Lucifer’s cheeks ached.

If he had any smarts, any sense at all, this would’ve been the moment he turned heel and excused himself out of the kitchen. Damned thing was, that didn’t feel like a nice thing to do, which was something he was currently concerned with as it pertained to his daughter.

“Well,” Charlie said after a beat of silence, and Lucifer couldn’t really read what was happening on her face, “that’s good-”

A shivering, bubbling shadow rose from the kitchen tiles in front of Lucifer’s feet, up, up, up, to the exact height a very unwelcome sinner usually stood.

“You lousy, little clown,” Alastor greeted him, face taut in anger as he materialized from the black. “Of course you can’t be trusted to leave something be.”

“Lousy clown?” Lucifer bristled.

“It’s like you puked your gaudy little insides all over the place! Whatever happened to my veto!”

Unfortunately, Lucifer knew exactly what he was talking about.

“You never vetoed the wallpaper!”

Alastor looked at him with a ferocious irritation, and a part of Lucifer was preening at the fact he managed to get under the man’s skin this badly.

“I would’ve,” he castigated, static crackling around his voice like whips, “if you’d waited until wasting your energy on it. God knows you need it, looking at you.”

Wow, rude.

“You’re seriously this pissed about this. Seems like kind of an overreaction, Al.”

Alastor made a motion like he wanted to wrap his hand around Lucifer’s throat.

“You assumed you knew better,” he hissed.

“You didn’t want to continue!” Lucifer defended, voice rising in both pitch and volume. “And I do!”

“I specifically told you to wait.”

Lucifer crossed his arms. “Oh, and now I’m just supposed to do everything you say?”

And with that Alastor’s eyes darted to the side momentarily and narrowed a little, almost as if his smile became a touch more genuine.

“Maybe you should at least consider it, when working together in a team.”

Oh, Lucifer hated him. Lucifer hated him, so, so much.

Charlie was grimacing as he met her gaze.

“So,” she tittered awkwardly, “I see that, uhm… There are two quite different sides to this story.”

Alastor folded his hands behind his back and straightened from where he had been looming over Lucifer, turning to Charlie with a much more collected expression.

“Charlie, dear, I fear your father is not a team player!”

Lucifer scoffed, too annoyed with Alastor to sort out how he felt about his daughter catching him in a lie.

“Oh, please. I did all the work! You just sat there and gave me the pollice verso.”

Alastor sniffed. “Well, I would’ve loved to contribute in another way but that’s all you let me do.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining!”

“You must’ve not been listening. That seems to be a trend here.”

Vaggie raised a hand and grunted, exasperated. “Can you guys shut up? Seriously?”

Lucifer’s retort died on his tongue. Charlie was wringing her hands again.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that!” She started, clearly trying to put her heart into it, but her voice sounded dull. “I had hoped that you guys would take this as an opportunity to bond but… I can see how that might’ve been a bit… enthusiastic of me.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

A part of Lucifer wanted to run forward and exclaim that they had and they would and that they were really warming up to each other! But while they’d certainly gotten to know the other better last night, Lucifer felt he wouldn’t even be able to pretend he had any kind of warm feelings for the man, and knew Alastor felt the same.

Lucifer sighed, anger deflating to leave him feeling hollowed and useless.

“I’m sorry, Char. I just don’t think Alastor and I being friends is something that’s going to happen.”

Charlie pursed her lips, her eyes flicking towards Alastor before turning back to his again. “It was just… kind of important to me for you two to get along?”

Lucifer didn’t really know what to say to that.

Charlie swallowed before trying to smile. “But that’s not- I shouldn’t have put that on you two. That’s… my bad.”

Alastor’s ears flicked backward minutely.

“Yes, well, silly and misguided as the whole idea was,” he started, “I have gotten to know your father a little better. I’m sure that working with him in the future as co-hoteliers will run a tad smoother, for your efforts.”

Lucifer quickly linked on.

“It has been enlightening!” He nodded. “I’ve definitely learned what not to do when working with this guy.”

He jabbed his thumb at Alastor, who gave him a sideways glare.

“I now know that I have to interfere when your father thinks he’s ‘on a roll’.”

Lucifer smiled a touch wider. “And I now know not to ask questions when Alastor starts to whinge.”

Charlie regarded them, still on the fence. “Really?”

“I think working together in the future is going at least be more predictable, thanks to your little experiment,” Alastor assured her.

Vaggie glared at them over Charlie’s shoulder while Alastor and Lucifer tried to keep smiling as amicably as possible. Charlie let her consternation take a backseat for a more optimistic expression to grace her face.

“Well,” she took a breath in, and Lucifer could already see her mapping out a follow-up plan, “good enough! I suppose, heh.”

“Charles,” Vaggie said softly, “it’s your day off, hon.” At which Charlie swallowed and nodded, letting Vaggie steer her away by the shoulder.

Lucifer wanted to leave. They had been having fun on their day off and he was ruining it and he should leave.

“Right, your right,” Charlie huffed, making her way back over to the counter. “Dad, let’s just have lunch. Alastor, do you want to join us?”

The rest of the words being spoken between them didn’t really register, the sounds just floating in the air like little puffs of smoke; there, but intangible. He should be able to listen, he’d already stepped on Charlie’s toes, but trying to keep upright ranked a little higher on the to-do list at the moment. He could eat. Have lunch. Eating had been part of the plan today. Sleeping, socializing, eating. Normal things; things Charlie kept underlining. Alastor was moving to the coffee machine so he was staying, which meant that Lucifer really couldn’t leave. Which was fine. Because he didn’t want to because he wanted to have lunch with his daughter because he wasn’t an absolute asshole.

It was fine.

Vaggie was giving him a look, but he was fine, just had to get the old body moving!

“Can I have one too, Al?” he asked, not really caring what he replied. Probably something perfectly friendly, with Charlie in the room.

Charlie was asking him something while the plate of pancakes danced circles in the microwave and Lucifer just nodded at her, lips stretched in a smile.

He should help set the table.

With a snap of his fingers, plates, cutlery, glasses and the whole shebang clattered upon the table, the leftovers floating out of the fridge to wait in a neat line for the microwave. Just some practical magic.

It left him a little dizzy, which was, admittedly, not a very good sign.

Charlie looked slightly surprised but was smiling, her mouth moving in what Lucifer understood to be a ‘thanks, dad’. He nodded, inching closer to the table to grab hold of the back of a chair. A cane doesn’t really work as it should when the arms get wobbly as well!

There was a cup in front of his face, a clawed hand holding it up. Right. He’d asked for that.

“Thank you,” he said, more to the cup than the man holding it.

The heat of the ceramic was a little grounding, as was the bitter smell. That was good.

“Go sit down,” Charlie smiled, using a towel to get the hot plate out of the microwave.

So Lucifer sat down.

“You know I used to think they tasted better the day after, when we reheated them,” Charlie went on. “I used to put sooo much syrup on mine.”

“Used to?” Vaggie snorted softly.

Charlie snorted. “Oh, you don’t even know.”

Lucifer cleared his throat. “Well, you can have them, if you want, Char,” a desperate last resort. “You made them, after all.”

“Oh, I had like, ten of them for breakfast. They’re yours.”

Lucky him.

He took a swing of his coffee and when he looked down there were five pancakes proudly stacked on a plate in the middle of the table, steam coming off of them and butter and honey glazing down.

Charlie pulled back the chair opposite of him, saying something to Vaggie as she cracked eggs into a pan, making their own lunch, and Alastor was cutting up something on a board. Lucifer should probably wait until they were done and seated too. Only polite.

His hands remained firmly around his cup.

Charlie glanced at him.

“I’m sorry, Char, what was that?”

“You can go ahead!” She repeated herself, making a ‘go on’ motion with her hand. “You don’t have to wait for us, they’ll get cold.”

She plopped the pancake down on his plate for him.

Lucifer loved his daughter more than anything in the universe, but there was probably no one he felt more helpless in the face of. Though the thought constricted him with guilt, it remained true.

The pancake, the offender, laid uselessly on his plate.

There was music floating through the air. Alastor had turned on music.

Okay. Hand on fork. He shouldn’t be turning this into a whole thing. Pancakes could be fine. He’d eaten them before, together with others. He was doing well today. He’d slept, socialized, even.

Charlie was his raison d’être. And she’d made him pancakes.

They shouldn’t disgust him.

He thought of Lilith, indulgently chewing on the over-sugared breakfast; little Charlie, demanding chocolate chips in hers. Charlie, who had grown up and invited him into her home and cooked for him and who was now looking at him over the table expectantly.

He picked up the knife, stabbed the pancake to the plate with his fork, and slashed through it, syrup squelching from the dough like he was inflicting a wound.

Charlie smiled at him with crinkling eyes and responded to something Vaggie said.

The fork hung in the air in front of him and Lucifer thought of Lilith like a prayer; he had never been disgusted by her, had never turned up his nose and thought himself too good when she had put food to her mouth with excitement. He could get over himself and his disobedient, snarling body.

He opened his jaw, moved the fork in, closed it, bit down on it, moved the fork away.

It tasted of barely anything, insipid, just stickiness coating his teeth and a faint sweetness so cloying it reminded him of rot.

He breathed through his nose, trying to make himself remember it was all in his head, just in his head.

He chewed, a motion of the jaw, of teeth grinding on teeth until he could swallow, wet and viscous.

“It’s lovely, Charlie,” he complimented her.

“Learned from the best,” she winked.

He felt it slither down his esophagus, felt it land heavy in his stomach.

He didn’t need it, he didn’t need it, he didn’t need it-

He slashes into the pancake decidedly and brought another bite to his mouth.

Focussing on other things was hard, the conversation in the kitchen eluding him. He chewed and glared down at his plate, the thing mockingly looking up at him, not even being close to finished.

Charlie laughed loudly at something and Lucifer jumped, but it had been at something Vaggie said. If he could just tune in-

Biting, chewing, swallowing. The metal of the fork meeting the enamel of his teeth was the most forgiving thing about the entire ordeal.

He lowered the fork again, thinking he should probably also focus on not eating too slowly or too fast, but when fishing for an answer to that question he came up empty.

Four slices of bread jumped out of the toaster which Vaggie plated. Lucifer felt like a machine, preprogrammed and faltering.

Alastor was watching him.

Right. Fork to plate, slash. Jaws open, bite. Pull, chew, wet, swallow.

Oh, yeah, breathe. Through the nose and past the lump of food trying to make its way down past his contracting esophagus. An image of a snake pulsing around its prey as it swallowed it whole, hide and hair, flashed into his mind unbidden. Lucifer clutched his napkin to his mouth to disguise a gag, the food traveling the wrong way before he ground his teeth and swallowed harshly, forcing it down.

His plate wasn’t empty yet.

Panic. Infantile, sharp panic struck him square in the chest. He couldn’t do this, who had he been kidding, this task, this request so simple turning out to be insurmountable. There was no way-

Fork to plate, slash, jaws open, bite, pull, chew, wet, swallow, breathe.

Four pieces of toasted bread were put down on the plates by calloused gray hands, two in front of Charlie and two on the plate next to her. Mouths were moving and all Lucifer could do was hope they weren’t talking to him.

He could leave if he finished this pancake. They could spend the rest of this domestic affair in good company.

“-Lucifer?” Through the haze.

“Hm?”

“Uhm,” Vaggie stammered, “I asked if you wanted some water, sir?”

She was holding up a jug.

Lucifer stretched his lips over his teeth. “Please.”

She poured and the moment she was done he dragged the glass over the table, taking sharp gulps to tear the sweetness from his teeth.

It was falling a little quiet, which was never good. Charlie was looking at him curiously, tilting her head and pursing her lips like she was about to ask him someth-

Lucifer’s heart shot up into his throat, like there wasn’t enough going on up there to begin with. Charlie was going to ask, he was acting irregularly and Charlie was noticing and worrying herself. Like he promised her she didn’t have to do, and she was going to ask and they’d pinky promised and he couldn’t lie to her, but he also couldn’t tell her the truth. Because whose no-good father couldn’t just sit down and eat some fucking pancakes.

Before she could, Lucifer stabbed, ripped, raised his fork, smiled, bit down, pulled; as enthusiastically as possible.

He couldn’t tell if Charlie looked convinced or not, he was too busy trying to ignore the acid at the back of his throat. Not that he could get her face into focus anyways.

What was the next step again? Had he already swallowed? Oh, breathing, right.

There was something warm behind him.

“Charlie, dear,” Alastor’s voice rang out, “I think I heard someone at the door, could you two go and greet the wayward soul.”

The breathing step wasn’t going great, which could have something to do with the swallowing step kind of flunking.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Vaggie deadpanned, no doubt giving Alastor a stink eye.

Oh.

He knew what Alastor was doing.

“Uhm, are you sure you heard someone?” Charlie asked.

Lucifer could feel the pinpricks of Alastor’s nails digging into his shoulder.

“Without a doubt, now if you would-”

And Lucifer appreciated it, as much as he could feel appreciation for anything right now, but it wouldn’t work because it asked for Lucifer to keep it together for ten more seconds and, really, anyone on Lucifer’s team was bound to lose.

“Dad, are you alright?”

Charlie asked because of course she did, bulldozed right through everything. And it should’ve been so easy, so mindlessly simple to just say yes and excuse himself. But the promise made his tongue curl back, making it impossible to swallow. Charlie looked concerned now. She had been having fun. They had been talking and laughing and preparing lunch and Lucifer always made everything so fucking complicated.

And he had just finished his plate.

“I’m-” he tried to say, tried so badly to save it.

But he could feel it coming, along with the telltale signs of the muscles underneath his jaw tensing in long, hot lines down his throat. His tongue was too big for his mouth and it tasted sweet.

Alas.

Lucifer pushed himself from the table, the sound of the chair moving back loud and jarring. It was only a journey of a few steps, to get from his chair to the sink, and it was one he couldn’t make quickly enough. He threw himself over the edge of the sink and pulsed, his body undoing itself of the problem. Bites of chewed up pancake, as sweet and sickening as when they went down, rushed right out of his stomach with abandon, a violent lurching. He shook and choked, hot all over, as he clutched at the basin.

He watched his own vomit float across his vision through the tears in his eyes, vaguely aware of a commotion behind him. He hated this, he hated this so much, his supposed ethereal, invulnerable body betraying him along with his worthless mind.

A hand rested down on his shoulder and he shivered underneath it, hot and sweaty and miserable, and the hand smoothed over his back as he gagged again. More vomit, more fluids, just sour fluids at this point. Everything else was already laying in the sink.

The hand didn’t leave and Lucifer knew it was Charlie’s, knew it was his daughter’s, his good, kind daughter trying to be a source of comfort as he retched and emptied himself.

“I’m sorry,” he managed through the nausea, through the water everywhere.

Another hand brushed a lock of hair away from his damp face.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dad.”

And she was wrong, she was so wrong it was laughable. It was so funny he cramped over the porcelain, spitting on fluids and acid. A gray hand, Vaggie’s, moved into his vision, reaching for the faucet and letting the water rush in to wash away most of the bile.

Lucifer was so mortified he could barely breathe.

His vision swam as he gasped on nothing, the dawning knowledge he was spurring himself into another episode together with the lack of oxygen sparking another wave of panic.

“Jesus, dad,” Charlie said loudly next to his ear. “Just- just, uhm, try to breathe as deeply as you can, in and out.”

Which was solid advice from his conscientious, well-meaning daughter, but that was kind of what he had been trying to do all along. In fact, it was getting hard to discern where one breath ended and the next began. The retching had stopped, at least.

“Ehm!” Charlie floundered, voice high, Vaggie’s voice in the mix somewhere as well. “Okay, dad, just breathe with me, okay? Listen to me.”

She took a loud, demonstrative breath in, close to him, and pushed it out again. Lucifer tried to focus, attempting to blink some of the spots from his vision and make his lungs cooperate, which were stuttering and wheezing on his attempts to follow. A wave of nausea rolled over him again, leaving him wet and gagging miserably.

Charlie just kept breathing loudly beside him.

“In,” she instructed, “and out.”

Lucifer brought a shaky hand to his mouth, wiping the spit from his lips.

A handkerchief, red as the claw holding it, floated in front of his face.

God.

Lucifer snatched it out of the air, face burning even more than he thought possible, and rubbed it against his mouth. Breathing against the fabric, his lungs allowed him a first decent breath, and then another one, and another one. A cup of water was pushed into his empty hand, Vaggie’s doing, and Lucifer tried not to trigger his gag reflex as he rinsed his mouth and spit. Maybe he could die from mortification; unkillable in every way but this one.

Charlie was talking about something, but Lucifer was busy clearing the white noise in his brain and trying not to fall over as she tugged on his shoulder. She was leading him away from the sink to a chair at the table, still babbling as Lucifer attempted to stay upright.

All things were shimmering and sharp around him. The lines, the edges of every object, everything that began or ended somewhere, were trembling like shadows on hungry blades. Lucifer hadn’t meant to tilt the room, to send everything sliding and scrambling as it tilted like the hull of a ship, but it was hard to keep track of keeping things upright when his balance was shot.

“-… sit down, dad.”

Lucifer did as he was ordered. He leaned an arm to the side of the table, one hand still clutching the handkerchief. Charlie was pulling a chair out, positioning herself in front of him, scooting close enough for their knees to touch. He moaned miserably.

“Dad, can you try to still the room?”

It was easier to do when sitting down, with his back to the chair and his feet on the ground. The sounds of things falling over and sliding to a fro came to a stop.

“Okay, okay, that’s better, thank you, dad.” Charlie squeezed his hand.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could come up with again, voice strange from misuse.

Vaggie came into view, which was shaky and watery, her face open with concern in a way he could only recall seeing on extermination day, which made Lucifer’s stomach roll. She was holding a bucket, put it down next to Charlie’s chair. She stood solidly next to her, a hand on her shoulder, while she glared daggers at something above Lucifer’s head.

“Don’t you have something else to do?” Vaggie hissed.

And Lucifer appreciated it, appreciated her, and she was probably right, too. But it was two people in front of him, two loud, open faces with concerned eyes and moving mouths and questioning voices and it was just one of him across it all, and he could feel the warmth of Alastor’s hands on the back of his chair, and horrible and misplaced as it might be, Lucifer felt like he might topple to either side if Alastor were to walk away from his post behind him.

“It’s okay,” Lucifer rasped, to Vaggie’s surprise and Charlie’s unwavering worry. “He can- I don’t-”

Charlie grabbed his hand, an eye of a wildly spinning storm.

“Dad, daddy,” she pressed, leaning closer to take up more of his vision, “Can you please keep your eyes on me?”

Hadn’t he been doing just that?

“I need you to keep breathing like this, okay? Keep breathing with me.”

She was taking those exaggerated breaths again, and Lucifer didn’t need it, he was- it was- he wasn’t going to throw up again.

“Char,” he interrupted, “‘m fine.”

Her entire form slumped, her face reddening as empty-handed frustration pulled at her features. Vaggie squeezed her shoulder.

“Take a second, Charlotte,” Alastor’s voice rang out, which was strange, so strange Lucifer couldn’t even look at it head on.

Charlie’s gaze flicked up and back down again. She ground her jaw and breathed through her nose, deeply, a few times. Lucifer tried to follow her. Charlie squinted her eyes at him, like she was looking at something incomprehensible, something too bright to look at.

“Dad…” Charlie spoke, clearly worried and at a loss at the same time. “Are you okay?”

He would’ve laughed had it not felt like doing so would make him have to run right back to the sink again. Charlie probably didn’t even know she was calling upon their promise.

“Right, that’s probably a stupid question,” she smiled tightly, squeezing his hand which she was inexplicably still holding. That couldn’t be comfortable. He felt hot and cold and damp.

“I’m… I just threw up,” was the safest thing he could come up with with his mind still spinning on nothing, which sounded a little ridiculous when he said it out loud and Charlie smiled with such sympathy it almost looked like she wanted to laugh at him.

“I know,” she said, “I’m getting pretty worried, dad.”

Well, and there he went, didn’t he. Making his daughter worry when she’d been having fun, when she’d told him she didn’t want to have to worry about him. It was all so typical, so unoriginal. Charlie was happy and here he was, a comet stumbling into her field of gravity, greedy to hit the surface, infecting a crowd like a fucking pipe-bomb, shards everywhere.

He snipped his fingers to clean himself up a little, at least get the miasma off of him. It made him sway as he scraped at the last vestiges of energy.

“I really am sorry, Char,” he said again, feeling ancient and light as hollow bones. “If you want me to leave, you know I won’t hold it against you.”

He was doing what he should’ve done the moment he hadn’t technically been needed at the hotel anymore. Charlie had been kind in keeping him around, now it was time to do the kind thing back and snip the tether again.

“What?” Charlie’s voice was small, dumbfounded and hurt, even Lucifer could hear that. “You think I want you to leave?”

Lucifer took a moment to think before opening his mouth, which was not something that came all that naturally to him.

“I think it would be better if you did.”

Charlie’s chin wobbled. “You can be really horrible, you know that?”

Vaggie looked torn and faintly panicked, trying to get Charlie’s attention while shooting apologetic looks towards Lucifer as he tried to catch his breath like someone’d kicked him in the sternum.

“Charles, you should-”

“What do I need to do?” Charlie interrupted, “for you to believe me? Take me seriously?”

Lucifer’s eyes stung. “I do, how- how can you-” How could she ever believe he didn’t?

Charlie shook her head. “You don’t actually. You- you think I’d be so quick, so unkind, that I would send you out the door because you’re…” She gestured at him with her free hand. “Going through something? Something you won’t tell me about even though I am your daughter and a grown-up and I love you? What does that say about what you think about me?”

Lucifer’s breath halted high in his chest, a striking cold. “I think the world of you, Charlotte.”

Charlie clutched his hand closer to her chest, reeling him in with the hand she was still holding even though her cheeks were red and her eyes were shiny and he was frustrating her something awful.

“Then let me in,” she all but begged which made Lucifer feel the sharp grief of failure, “Talk to me, stop thinking I’ll- I’ll be cruel or childish or disappointed or whatever you’re thinking about, ‘cause it’s not gonna happen.”

Lucifer swallowed, unsure what he would even sound like when he opened his mouth, if his voice would even cooperate. He focused on the heat at his back.

“You are none on those things, Charlie,” he rasped, “but you are my child, and there are things you shouldn’t have to worry about.”

When Charlie spoke he could see the sharpness of her bottom canines, the same she had cried and fussed over as a child when they’d broken through her gums, the ones he’d taught her to clean carefully. They were flawless.

“And you think I prefer this,” she didn’t need to gesture at Lucifer’s state for him to take the hit, closing his eyes momentarily to let that rip through him. “You think I prefer you hurting and just pulling away until something breaks?”

When he looked back at her, because he at least owed her that, she looked earnest and solid and, well, quite grown. She looked like her mother.

“I’m an adult, dad, I’m two hundred years old,” she spoke decidedly, “and I need you to treat me as one.”

That was as clear a message as he could get, wasn’t it? An ultimatum, even though she would never call it one, but a fork in the road nonetheless. It should be very clear, even to Lucifer, what path would be the one to take.

Lucifer nodded, looked at his knees, looked at her hand holding his. Still charred, still shaking.

“It would be terribly unfair,” he had to get in first, just so she could think about it for one sentence longer.

“Not at all,” Charlie met his gaze, voice softer than it had been before. “Isn’t that what were here for, to help each other out? You’re my father, and I love you.”

He swallowed and nodded, sounds stuck in his throat. She nodded back, features wobbling as she tried for a smile.

“Okay,” he shook, “Alright, you’re- I should.”

Charlie looked horribly hopeful at his unbalanced acquiescence.

“So,” she said, warm and soft, “has the room stopped spinning? Is there something I can get you?”

Lucifer shook his head. “Just catching my breath, dear.”

Charlie huffed through her nose, and he stroked a trembling thumb over her hand.

“Do you think you’re gonna be sick again?”

“No.” And he really didn’t think he was going to.

“I’ve, uh, got a bucket,” Vaggie chimed in, going a little red after having said it.

Lucifer tried to look appreciative. “Thank you, Vaggie.”

“Dad, what happened just now?” Charlie started, wasting little time.

Lucifer took a short and shaky breath in before letting it burst out of him like a silent laugh. All defenses down, nothing left to do but try.

“I, ah,” he shook, his voice, his hands, his shoulders, “pfew, is it, uhm… I’m-”

He looked just past Charlie, some still point past her ear. A claw dug itself into Lucifer shoulder, pinching him to the ground. Lucifer had almost forgotten Alastor had been there this whole time, hovering at his back like a wraith observing proceedings, no doubt collecting suffering and embarrassment as if it were his sustenance. He appreciated the nails digging into him more than Alastor getting even.

“I have… I think I’ve been unwell,” his voice broke through the constriction.

Charlie nodded encouragingly while Vaggie’s expression turned a little more unreadable, covering for slight incredulity.

“I don’t- I don’t really know what to tell you, Charlie, because I don’t really know why… I get like this either.” He felt raw as he bared himself open, like he was making tiny incisions in his chest and telling people to gather round and come take a look at the bloody insides. He gently pulled his hand out of Charlie’s, which she allowed gracefully.

“This happens a lot?” she asked, a repetition of yesterday.

“I was doing well,” Lucifer sucked in his cheeks, trying to make his tired mind come up with something coherent. “At first, when I got here, I thought I was doing great! Being with you, being busy, but I- it’s like I can never just…” He wrung his hands, fiddling with the wedding ring. “Stay put.”

“Am I allowed to interrupt yet?” Alastor’s grating voice floated above him.

“No,” Vaggie said as if on instinct.

Charlie cringed just a little before looking at Lucifer as if it was his choice to make. Lucifer sniffed.

“I’m surprised you managed to stay quiet this long.”

“A show of restraint on my part.”

“Hm,” Lucifer hummed, reaching up to his own shoulder to pat his hand mockingly, though the execution was a little shaky. “That must’ve been near impossible for you, staying out of other people’s business.”

“Quite.”

Vaggie was glaring daggers at the man. “Be very careful about what you say next, Alastor. I will throw you out of here like I should’ve already done.”

Lucifer heard a ruffle of fabric behind him, no doubt Alastor making some dismissive gesture.

“I know your majesty isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed-” Alastor began strong.

“Alastor, I swear-” Vaggie jabbed a finger at him.

“But,” Alastor continued, steadfast, “even this can not be a mystery to him.” Alastor leaned down, Lucifer could feel the warmth of his face as it hung next to his, his voice loud in his ear. “One needs to sleep and eat to get through the days.”

A simple statement, something objectively true, Lucifer knew this was true. Why did he want to argue it? Why did it make him feel like clawing at his own skin?

“That’s… It’s not that simple, Al.”

“Maybe even a break, or two, especially if one gets as frenzied as you tend to get,” Alastor continued, ignoring him. “I know some people still take Sundays off. Down here, can you imagine.”

Charlie was looking at him with slowly widening eyes, half frowning. He really wanted her to stop frowning. “How is it not that simple?”

Before Lucifer could muster up the energy to try and formulate some sort of response to that Charlie was already jumping to her next question, gaze flitting over the middle-distance.

“How can you say-? I mean, I know you have trouble sleeping, but you’ve always- Did it get worse? Here? How much are you sleeping a night?”

Would answering ‘none if I can help it’ be taking Charlie seriously as an adult or would it be a flippant way of throwing fuel on the fire?

“And you’re never there at dinner but I just though you just didn’t like to socialize,” Charlie went on, “Which, I though, you know, it’s a big change, meeting all these knew people, and technically you don’t have to, but now I- I don’t think I’ve actually seen you eat? Like at all? When have you been eating? Is that why you threw up?”

Her eyes darted from Lucifer’s face to Alastor’s and back. “And why did he notice, and I didn’t?”

Lucifer winced and wondered about staying upright for the time it would take to try and answer all of this.

“Let’s focus on one question at a time,” Vaggie muttered into Charlie’s ear.

“And please keep in mind,” Lucifer spoke up, his voice failing him slightly as he waved Alastor’s handkerchief like a little white flag, “that your old man’s a little exhausted at the moment.”

Strangely enough, Charlie’s face lit up at that. “That- That was great dad! That was a boundary!” She stuck a finger in the air. “Letting the people around you know how you’re feeling and asking them to act accordingly.”

Lucifer slowly absorbed what she was talking about, busy watching her face thaw away some of that worry.

“You know,” Lucifer swallowed, “you’re the only child who congratulates their parent on setting boundaries, right?”

Charlie wagged the same finger. “Ah-ah, not a child,” she corrected him, half a joke, before sobering up a little.

“But, yeah, uhm, we don’t have to talk about everything right now, that’s not the point.” When she shook her head slightly a lock fell into her face, and Lucifer itched to tuck it back behind her ear. “I think, for now, please help me understand what just happened. How I could help.”

Ha. That was just all those questions wrapped up in one. Lucifer was quiet for a moment, trying sort through his staggering thoughts.

“Do you want another glass of water, sir?” Vaggie offered.

Lucifer huffed through his nose. “Please.”

She left Charlie’s side.

“Look, the- the that…” he waved a hand to the general direction of the sink, before wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s… hard. I don’t… I find it hard to think about, let alone, ha…” A sigh hitched from his throat. “I don’t know. Eating hasn’t been… the easiest thing. And I don’t need it like other’s do, I don’t, but… I suppose I’ve been pushing it.”

Vaggie returned with the glass, which Lucifer gratefully took. She really was such a nice girl.

“So you had a reaction to the pancake?” Charlie asked, attempting to sound more like a professional and less like a guilty child.

“You could say that.” Lucifer took a few sips of water. “That was… that doesn’t happen often, though. As I said, I think I’ve been pushing it a little.”

Charlie pursed her lips. “Because… you’re here now?”

And Lucifer couldn’t let her run around with the wrong idea in her head, couldn’t let her thing any of this was even a little bit her fault.

“No, Charlie, none of that,” he sighed, headache coming in strong. “None of this is because of you, at all.”

“But…” Charlie sighed, only half convinced.

“It’s on me, okay?” Lucifer interjected, looking at something head on now that he had to say it out loud. “My own fault, I’ve been… I might’ve been running on empty for a while and that’s- that should be on no one but me.”

He should say more, should tell her being at the hotel makes him feel alive in a way he’s unused to, that being around her makes him feel like living through the day is worth it. Maybe another time he’d find the force to do so.

She looked at him silently for a moment, features a little pained before she nodded. “Right.” She looked down at the hand she wasn’t holding anymore. “I’ll… I’ll refrain from asking you when you last ate before now.”

Lucifer appreciated that.

“Can you… just tell me, next time, if you don’t want to eat, or if you’re having a hard time?” She lowered her face slightly, watching him through her bangs. “I hate to think I pushed you and didn’t even notice.”

What could Lucifer do but nod. Had he been irresponsible with her, even though that was the very thing he’d been trying not to be? All of it was making his mind buzz more than it already was.

“I thought I could handle it,” Lucifer confessed, voice low. “I thought I was doing well enough.”

Alastor took that as a cue to speak again, for some reason. “Why of course you did! You’re amusingly prone to overestimating yourself.”

Which was really funny coming from the angelic-chest-wound-sufferer.

“Pot, kettle,” Lucifer retorted, annoyance turning into some coughing sparks of energy. “But, I mean, can you blame me! I’m- I’m an archangel, I’m the devil, I’m practically indestructible,” a little wheeze escaped him, “I literally cannot die, believe you me, and I should just be able to- to-”

“Suck it up?” Vaggie asked, deadpan so he knew he shouldn’t emphatically agree. “Look, sir-”

“Lucifer.”

“-Lucifer. Just because you’re less vulnerable doesn’t mean you can wage a war on yourself and come out unaffected.” She looked mildly uncomfortable as she said it, as if she was concerned about overstepping, but found it necessary enough to go through with it. “I don’t think it’s all that different for you.”

There was so much to say to that. So much to deny and question and refute and acquiesce. It escaped him, though. He’d let it lie, for now; tentatively agreed with until he’d have to energy to do otherwise. He let his face fall in his hands.

“It should be,” he murmured, voice muffled, before dragging his hands down and slumping back into his chair. “I’ll try,” he rasped, “I’m so bad at it and I’m out of practice but… Ha,” he squeezed out a laugh. “Isn’t the first step in fixing a problem admitting you have a problem?”

Charlie leaned forward, close. “Dad,” she started kindly, “all I’m asking you to do is try.”

His daughter was everything and more and she was just asking him for one thing; a thing he felt like he understood, now, the implications, the weight.

He nodded, reached out to hold her hand. It made her beam.

“Just keep letting me in,” she impressed. “I don’t care what state your in.” Charlie’s eyes welled up while she said it, which made Lucifer well up in turn.

“Oh, don’t,” he sniffed, clutching at her fingers, “If you cry, I’ll cry.”

Which completely opened the waterworks for Charlie for some reason, choking on what sounded like half a laugh, half a sob.

Lucifer heard Alastor groan and Vaggie was patting Charlie’s back with a soft smile.

“‘C’mere,” Lucifer pulled her into an embrace, because his baby was in tears and because he could. It was a little awkward, half sitting down and wet-faced, but Charlie squeezed him so tight none of that mattered at all.

When she pulled back slightly, he smoothed his thumbs over her wet cheeks, and even though it reminded him fiercely of doing the same thing when she’d been so much younger, it was getting harder and harder to deny that she had grown up, in his absence. And maybe she looked like him a little too.

“I love you, Charlie,” he said, voice all croaky, “you make me very proud.”

Charlie let out a laugh and wetted her cheeks again.

“What is it with this family and the waterworks.”

Alastor held out two tissues, one for Charlie, one for Lucifer, face long suffering.

“Hey-” Vaggie already started but stopped when both Charlie and Lucifer chuckled shakily through the tears.

He was put on the couch in the living room, a tad forcefully, while Charlie went on about how much energy went into emotions and whatnot. Something about panic attacks which Lucifer wasn’t going to dwell on for at least the rest of the day. She’d have to write it all down for him, someday. She covered him in blankets while Vaggie got him tea along with some anti-nausea medication a small serving of oat-milk.

It felt incredibly strange to get fussed over. Charlie said it was part of it and furthermore, something to get used to. Strange times.

She stood with her hands on her hips, going over some mental list, trying to find out if she had deposited him to her liking. She could stand to learn of some balance herself.

“Char,” Lucifer breathed, adjusting one of the ten pillows he was sitting up against, “go enjoy what’s left of your day off. I’ll be good, I promise.”

Charlie chewed on her lip, brows drawn in uncertainty.

“Shoo,” he flicked his hands, “go swim or watch a movie or go out or something. I’ll be right here, won’t move a muscle.”

She raised a brow.

“I promise.”

“Okay, sure,” Charlie laughed, a bright burst of sound. “And we’ll talk, more, right? Tomorrow, or the day after.” She looked like she was trying really hard to put her foot down, but uncertainty shone through clear as day.

Lucifer was old. His roots were still and deep and movement hadn’t come easy to him in millennia. But it was like anything, you either change or you die. It was something humans were admittedly authorities on, and that had always fascinated him. Sure, dying was out of the picture for him, but there were many ways to die before the last light dimmed. Maybe it was time to reconsider his own eyes and hesitations. Maybe, in Charlie’s young light, Lucifer could grow a little sideways again, unfurl a leaf or two. Not because he needed to, but because such things happen under the right circumstances, wether the tree endeavours to do so or not.

“We will, Char,” he smiled at her, tired and feeling more than a little bruised, but also clean in a way he hadn’t felt in an overwhelmingly long time. “I promise.”

He held up his pinky-finger, and Charlie quickly raised hers on the other side of the room, chuckling. Vaggie heralded her out of the room gently, with a kiss on the cheek. Really, they should give that girl a medal, a statue. Maybe she’d like a built-in bubble bath in the bathroom. Lucifer would look into that.

He stretched himself out on the couch, trying to make himself comfortable between the, frankly, excessive amounts of blankets and pillows. Had he made these? The pattern of the weave looked familiar.

Alastor shadow was staring at him from the wallpaper.

“Hey, Al,” Lucifer called, making the shadow jump slightly, as if it hadn’t even noticed he’d been staring at a thing that could perceive him right back. “I won’t go and fool myself into thinking I know what’s going on in that mind of yours, and I’m unsure wether I’m about to thank you for being used in some nefarious plot you’re, uhm, plotting-”

Alastor drifted away from the wall and into proper form, lazily twirling his cane.

“Always so eloquent.”

“Give me a break,” Lucifer waved the words away. “But, ah, thanks, I think. You weren’t being awful, just now.”

Alastor’s smile was wide and sharp, all smugness and arrogance and mirth, but Lucifer was getting quite good at reading him, and a small twitch in his ears, a line between his brows, betrayed an unsure footing.

“You are more than welcome, your majesty! When else does a simple sinner like me get the opportunity to witness such a wonderful display of familial distress. A royal one, none the less. Quite enlightening!”

Lucifer rolled his eyes which made his head hurt, but it was almost impossible not to do so. “Yeah, whatever. You still helped me out, a little.”

That took Alastor by surprise a little bit, probably not expecting Lucifer to double down on his sincerity.

“Well,” he said, taking a glance at Lucifer’s hands so quickly he almost hadn’t noticed it, “Niffty might have shared a strange story with me. Something about bad men and befriending pansies. She… impressed certain things upon me. It was a whole diatribe; she got quite into it. Her mind’s a fascinating place.”

Lucifer’s let out a surprised breath at being a called a pansy for the second time today before trying and failing to stifle a bubbling laugh.

“Stressed the importance of stabbing people,” Alastor went on, head tilting slightly as he watched Lucifer intently, “which would’ve been more entertaining than even this, mais malheureusement, maybe another time.”

“Yeah, no need to stab anyone at the moment,” Lucifer chuckled, before turning faux sweet. “You would stab someone for me, Al?”

Alastor’s eyes crinkled. “I was thinking more along the lines of stabbing you.”

“Oh, you,” Lucifer waved a hand before gesturing to the coffee table in the middle of the room. “Could you do me a favor and give hand me the paper?”

Alastor grinned languidly. “A favor for a favor?”

“You’re hilarious,” Lucifer deadpanned, before gesturing at his state. “I’m on designated bedrest, asshole, hand me the thing.”

Alastor picked up the paper from the coffee table. “I was about to read it myself.”

That one was on Lucifer for thinking Alastor would actually do something because he asked for it.

“Oh, come on, only because I want it.”

Alastor pursed his lips, shaking his head slightly. “No, I want it because I want to read the news.”

Lucifer crossed his arms, glaring.

“I can read it to you, if you’re going to be difficult.”

Oh, Lucifer was being difficult now?

“Read it to me?” He spluttered. “You truly are obsessed with the sound of your own voice.”

Alastor made a showy motion with his hand. “I am in fact a radio-host!”

“Why someone would tune in to willingly hear your voice when they don’t have to is beyond me.”

Alastor sighed loudly, sticking up his nose. “Well, then I’ll be off-”

“Oh, come on, ugh,” Lucifer kicked in defeat. “Go ahead. Read.”

Alastor regarded him for a second, eyes sharp and smile tight, before he turned on his heel and settled himself on an armchair on the other side of the room.

“As you wish, your majesty.”

Alastor wasn’t actually that bad of a newscaster. Clearly practiced, he moved from article to article with ease, adding his own insights and opinions wherever he could. He also didn’t seem to mind explaining to Lucifer who all these people were that the paper kept writing about. In fact, he seemed pleased to share his knowledge with him, haughty as he explained the ins-and-out’s. Lucifer didn’t sleep, but keeping his eyes open proved difficult, and listening to Alastor go over things he only half cared about was… soothing, perhaps.

When Charlie got back, they were in the middle of playing chess, half the figures on the board on fire and heatedly accusing the other of cheating. Alastor wasn’t the worst person to spend time with.

And tomorrow Charlie would determinately but gently lay out papers and lists and planners for him to him to go over. Glorified homework, really. Words like sleep-hygiene and safe-foods were forced into his lexicon, and he had to finger-paint along with the rest of the hotel residents, which, in all honesty, wasn’t even all that bad. Charlie and he would talk and talk, and at the end of the week she had him so buttered up, so wrapped around her little finger, that when she slid him a business-card of some jumped-up therapist’s office, he actually gave them a call.