Work Text:
Alastor has never hated anyone as much as the Devil.
…well, alright, maybe that wasn't the whole truth.
Having Lucifer around him all the time, basically stalking his every step, after he'd helped restore the hotel and moved in, was… incredibly annoying. But also irritatingly exiting.
Alastor would, of course, never admit it, but the verbal sparring was quite enjoyable — and he sure hadn't missed the spark of excitement in Lucifer's eyes whenever they fought.
He hadn't expected to ever find someone to challenge him in that way again, after the last time he'd let someone get too close to him. But boredom was, as anyone knew, the true punishment of Hell, and Alastor had decided that engaging in a little battle of words with the Devil himself couldn't be too harmful, as long as he was careful not to let anything about himself slip that gave Lucifer the opportunity to use it against him.
And finding other people's insecurities to needle at was his specialty, after all. So he didn't think following that plan would pose a big issue.
But then, Charlie had approached them both and told them to ‘get along’ or she'd have to get creative on how to keep them from each other (namely banning one of them from the hotel grounds, and even though he enjoyed the fights with Lucifer, he didn't want to take the risk and find out which one of them she would inevitably favour in that decision — her father, who had helped build the very hotel they were living in, or Alastor, who hadn't even been expected back and had to rip a part of said hotel off and attach his radio tower himself).
So what was there to do but follow her demands and stop the bickering?
Which is how he'd ended up at the bar one night, only a few seats removed from the King, talking civilly and joking around — because if there was one thing the new chicken sinner they had added to their guest list was good for, it was to prove that they had quite the matching sense of humour.
Alastor suspected that the King had only approached him that evening because he had gotten bored of not fighting him for three days and felt the need to right that by disturbing his after-work hours. But as it turned out, Lucifer was an enjoyable conversation partner to have around, especially when having a common topic — gossiping about the newcomer, that was.
Lucifer was also very open about himself, now that they had apparently crossed a bridge that they hadn't dared to cross during their fighting. He was almost endearingly honest and himself. Which made it easier for Alastor to find little things to needle at. However, he couldn't bring himself to want to use them against him. And, even worse, Alastor realised it was also getting harder to not let anything slip himself.
Alastor knew he should stop this nonsense. Continuing this was dangerous.
Nevertheless he found himself at the bar next to Lucifer on more nights than he wanted to admit, the number of seats between them decreasing with almost every time. Yesterday they had sat right next to each other.
So yes. There was no one Alastor hated more than the Devil.
Because falling into these tiny exciting battles with him was too easy. Because coming back to him for some enjoyable late-night conversations was too hard to resist. And because he was the embodiment of temptation and Alastor struggled to not be tempted.
He hated it. He had too much to lose if the hotel didn't work out. He had too much to lose if anyone started figuring out his true intentions. And he had too much to lose if someone managed to crawl into his blackened heart the way Vox had.
He hated Lucifer for everything he stood for. For all the possibilities of him burning Alastor to the ground without even knowing. Without Alastor resisting.
However, channelling that hatred for not-so-cruel-anymore pranks and verbal attacks didn't do much, considering he'd find himself next to Lucifer at the bar again each night. Just like today.
“You gonna drink that or just gonna stare into it?” A voice startled him from his thoughts, a hand landing on his shoulder.
Alastor turned his head to see — who else? — Lucifer, again taking a seat right next to him.
He hadn't waited for the Devil to show up and keep him company. He'd just sat in his usual place at the bar, enjoying his drink. Like every night. Thank you very much.
Or, well, not enjoying his drink. How embarrassing. He lifted his glass and took a sip.
“So…,” Lucifer began as a pink cocktail with a little umbrella in it was placed before him, “anything on your mind you wanna talk about?”
Alastor huffed. Trust the Devil to appear when you speak (or think) of him, only to attempt to do the exact thing Alastor had just thought about avoiding. “Why? Does our shortness not have enough thoughts of his own in that tiny brain of his?”
Lucifer grimaced. “A ‘no’ would have sufficed, jackass.” He took the little umbrella out of his glass, turned it between his fingers and sipped his cocktail. Glancing at Alastor from the corner of his eye, he said, “You seemed to be in a bad mood — and you obviously are! Just wanted to give you an opportunity to vent, but if you don't wanna take it, you don't have to.”
Fighting not to let his ears flatten against his skull, Alastor sighed and looked away. By now, he didn't insult Lucifer for the sake of insulting him, anymore — and wasn't that a shocking realisation to have. They were past that. Playful bickering, yes, but this? This wasn't enjoyable.
One more thing to hate Lucifer for: he made Alastor feel things he didn't want to feel. And right now, he felt inadequate. Not equipped for a nice conversation.
He scowled into his whiskey glass.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucifer regarding him silently, then turning to watch the umbrella he still fiddled with, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a tiny smile.
“You know… Charlie asked me to come to group therapy tomorrow. ‘Participate’ she called it.” Lucifer lifted his gaze and smirked at him. “I don't think she knows what's she's asking of me, but you'll enjoy the shit show it's gonna be. New stuff to annoy me with.”
Despite himself, Alastor felt his grin soften.
He could already imagine how it'd go. Lucifer stammering about his issues like the bumbling idiot he always turned into when around his daughter, a forced grin on his face, eye twitching from discomfort — and Charlie, tears in her eyes, completely overwhelmed by the situation she'd put herself in because she didn't know how to cope with others’ trauma yet, especially not her own father’s.
He snorted. Yes, a shit show indeed. “You should buy her a book about therapy for her next birthday,” Alastor suggested, his grin more genuine than it had been this whole evening.
Lucifer looked stunned for a second, the umbrella stilling between his fingers, before he let out a groan and dropped his head onto the arm he had lying on the bar. “I should have thought of that!”
Alastor snickered, but sobered quickly when Lucifer looked up again and asked, rather seriously: “You're gonna be there tomorrow, too, right?”
Annoying lanced through him at that and he bristled. “If you think I am going to tell you anything about my ‘mood’ today or tomorrow, you are even dumber than I—”
“No, no, no, not that!,” Lucifer interrupted him. “I don't expect anything from you! If you don't wanna talk about it, you don't have to! And if you don't wanna talk to me, I doubt you're gonna say anything in group therapy.”
“Oh, why? Do you really think you're that special to me?” Alastor bit back, losing the battle against his ears, his shadow beginning to stalk along the walls behind the bar.
“No! Alastor, that's not—!” Lucifer sighed and let his head drop onto his arm again. “I'm sorry! I just thought— Ugh, I don't know what I thought, I just…” He turned his head enough the look up at Alastor with one eye. “…I want you there tomorrow. You're gonna be there, right?”
Now it was Alastor's turn to look stunned. He glanced away, not able to hold Lucifer's burning gaze any longer. “I'm always at group therapy. I don't ‘participate’ myself, but… I'll be there, yes.”
He didn't look over to Lucifer after that, even when he heard a quiet “thank you.” They sat in silence for the rest of the evening, emptying their drinks.
The next morning, Alastor stepped through his shadows into the staff kitchen since it was his turn to prepare breakfast.
He hadn't thought of Lucifer since he'd left the bar yesterday, no, no. Not when he had put on his pyjamas, not when he'd tossed in bed for half an hour, especially not when he took a walk through his bayou that was supposed to help him calm his thoughts, but only made him even more antsy instead. He also had not dreamed of him when he had finally managed to fall asleep on the little wooden pier where he'd sat down to watch the gators and fireflies. No, no. That would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?
Needless to say, his mood hadn't improved since yesterday. Why, how could it when Lucifer was apparently determined to mess up everything he worked so hard for by invading his mind every darn second of his afterlife?
His static buzzing madly around him, Alastor walked to the fridge and took out the ingredients for what he'd planned to cook. He eyed the little box of fingers Rosie had given him on his last visit to Cannibal Town, but decided against those. He did not feel the need to upset Charlie by eating body parts in front of her guests today.
Sighing, he turned on the stove, took his favourite pan from the rack above his head and put some butter in it. He was just cracking the first egg into it, when the kitchen door opened with a squeak — he should take care of that before Charlie noticed — and in stepped...
“Oh,” Lucifer stopped dead in his tracks. “I didn't realise it was your shift today.”
“It's on the task board,” Alastor answered easily, even as he averted his gaze, pretending to focus on breakfast. His ears, however, swivelled towards Lucifer when he shifted uncomfortably, betraying where his focus lay.
“Oh,” the Devil repeated. “I must've missed that.”
He hadn't. Alastor knew that he regularly forgot to look at the board because he wasn't a part of the staff.
The short following silence was only interrupted by the sizzling of the eggs as Alastor cracked the last one into the pan and put the lid on before lifting his gaze to where Lucifer was still standing in the middle of the kitchen, seemingly frozen. He raised an eyebrow.
Lucifer jolted slightly before averting his eyes and finally making a beeline to the coffee cabinet, his back to the deer demon.
Alastor tilted his head and let his gaze wander over Lucifer's form. He wore only his waistcoat — his coat and laughably big hat nowhere in sight — and he looked… a mess, really. Hair sticking out as if he'd already run a hand through it multiple times since styling it back, shoulders slumped…
Lucifer turned around, prepared stove-top coffee maker in hand, and Alastor realised there were also dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't known former Angels could look tired. Or needed sleep at all.
“Care to share the stove?” Lucifer asked with a forced smile.
Ignoring his question, Alastor asked right back, “Are you feeling alright, Sire?”
Looking startled, Lucifer gingerly shuffled over to the counter and put down the coffee maker. “I didn't… I mean, it's not… Is it… A-Are you mad at me?”
Alastor opened his mouth, not even knowing what his answer would be, but Lucifer just went on.
“I mean, it's not like I'd be surprised. I'm bad company after all, but after yesterday, I just thought… it felt off, you felt off, but I don't know why. And now my daughter wants me to participate in this stupid group therapy and I couldn't sleep all night because that's all I could think of. But you being mad at me makes this whole situation ten times worse because I thought it was going good between us. And I really need the support because I'm going to disappoint Charlie again because I'm me and nobody wants to hear about the fall of a Morningstar down here, right? And now the only person that I thought actually enjoyed spending time with me here, the only person I felt even kind of comfortable with in this whole entire hotel is mad at me and I don't know what I did, but I should've expected it, but I didn't and— Holy shit, I'm rambling. Am I rambling? I feel like I'm rambling!” He pressed his lips together, as if he didn't trust them to stop talking on their own, and he gripped the handle of the coffee brewer so hard, his knuckles went white.
Alastor hesitated. What was one supposed to say to that? Meanwhile Lucifer had started panting so fast, Alastor thought for a second that he would pass out from it.
The deer demon placed a hand on the Devil's shoulder in an attempt to ground him and decided to start with the only answer he knew how to give. “You are not bad company. But you might be if you die of lack of oxygen,” he added when Lucifer started wheezing.
“I don't need to breathe,” Lucifer gasped sounding very much like the opposite was the truth.
Alastor's ears flattened. What to do? “Sire, look at me.” Trying something he had researched for Charlie was his best guess.
Hesitantly Lucifer lifted his gaze.
“Breathe with me?” He took a deep breath, held it for four seconds, released it again and repeated the process while Lucifer stared at his lips, trying to figure out how to mimic the action.
Slowly, his breathing came to normal again and he kept staring at Alastor's lips with tears in his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.
“Nonsense. Whatever for?” Alastor used the opportunity and ran his hand through Lucifer's hair in an attempt to untangle the mess. “Have you not slept at all last night?”
Lucifer shook his head and winced as one of his blond strands got stuck between the Radio Demon's claws. The demon stilled his hand.
“Why, how about you sit down and let me make you coffee then?” Alastor offered.
Finally, Lucifer lifted his eyes and met the other’s gaze. “You're already making breakfast, though.”
“Someone with as dark circles under their eyes as you should not be allowed to operate kitchen gadgets, sire.” Moving his hand from Lucifer's hair to his back, he guided him to the little breakfast nook by the window.
“But-”
“No. I don't want you to burn my kitchen to the ground, sire.”
“It's my kitchen, asshole. I built it!”
Alastor's smile widened as some of Lucifer's temper came back. “Then you can very well sit in it while I make you coffee.” With more force than he expected to be necessary, Alastor pushed Lucifer into one of the seats, wondering what the hell he was doing coddling the King of Hell like that. “Wait here.”
He made his way back to the stove, took the eggs off the flame and put the coffee maker on instead, opening the lid. As he seasoned breakfast, his ears swivelled towards the sniffling king.
He had to strain to hear the King's words when he whispered, “…You haven't answered my question yet. Are you mad?”
“I'm—,” Alastor started but cut himself off as he realised denying it would be a lie. He sighed. “Why would I be?,” he asked instead, his radio filter making up for the cheer he was unable to put into his voice on his own. “You haven't done anything unusual since joining my evening routine a week ago.”
“Is the joining the issue?”
“Why would it be? You can enjoy a drink every now and then. Who am I to deny a man his alcohol?”
“You're deflecting.”
Alastor fought to keep his ears up and glanced over his shoulder at Lucifer. “Am I?”
The King just stared back, a crease between his brows.
Alastor sighed again. “No, the joining is not the issue. Not per se, that is.”
“Why are you mad, then?”
Fighting to keep his temper in check, the Demon corrected, “I didn't say I was mad, sire. You need to learn how to listen.”
“Well, are you?” Lucifer challenged.
Fighting to keep his static calm, Alastor turned around and looked his King in the eye. “Sire—”
“Alastor, I need you out there today. If there's something wrong between us, I'd like to talk it out before I have to tell my daughter about how much her Grandparent upstairs hates me! Just tell me if you're mad!”
“I don't know, Sire,” Alastor let out with an exasperated sigh. “And you trying to pry an answer out of me isn't going to make it any better.”
Frowning, Lucifer stared down at the table until his new favourite coffee mug — “have a ducking happy day,” a courtesy of Charlie — was placed in front of him. Without looking up at the deliverer, he took it in hand, drank his first unhappy sip and frowned deeper as he realised Alastor had made his coffee exactly the way he liked.
With a sigh, the Radio Demon sat down beside him. “It's not something you did, not really. It's about what it means to me. And I have to deal with this on my own. But I'll be part of group therapy anyway, so I doubt that ‘talking it out’ is all too necessary.”
Finally, Lucifer met his gaze. “If there's something bothering you about our evenings, I want to know. Maybe I can help—”
“I don't want you to help,” Alastor interrupted him. “I can deal with this myself.”
“But—”
“Drop it!”
Lucifer deflated in his seat and lifted his mug to his mouth once more.
“I'll get breakfast ready and then I'll join you at group therapy. I'll be there. I can't give you any more.” I shouldn't give you any more.
Hesitantly, Lucifer nodded. “…Okay.”
Alastor stood up and made his way to the stove again. He was ready to leave Lucifer and serve their guests, when he heard another whisper behind him.
“We’re going to be alright… right?”
With a glance over his shoulder, Alastor regarded the Devil and thought about how to answer this. His mind wandered to his troubles last night, to the evenings of the last week and the enjoyable conversations with the ancient being before him. And to the time when another person had looked at him the way Lucifer looked at him now. What they used to be, what they could've been, what they weren't.
He swallowed.
“I want us to be.”
Then he left the kitchen without waiting for a reaction.
Alastor sat on his — very uncomfortable — plastic chair and waited for all the guests to appear, so group therapy could finally begin.
Opposite of him, Lucifer fiddled with his bow tie, forked tongue sticking out from between his lips. Alastor refused to call the sight cute, even in his head, but then again, Lucifer was the Devil from the Bible which meant he was also the most beautiful of all Angels and cute was basically the same as beautiful if you thought about it — which Alastor decidedly did not do.
Being reminded of Vox by Lucifer’s sheer presence was torture enough.
Worse even that, other than being able to crawl into his cold dead heart, they did have a few other things in common. Which Alastor noticed when Lucifer ceased fiddling with his tie, just to look up and stare at his daughter two seats over, looking like a lost puppy.
Vox had also often looked like that when waiting for something. For example when he'd sat in front of Alastor's door in the Radio Tower after his shift and waited for Alastor to finish his broadcast, so he could take him out for dinner.
His heart ached at the memory and he looked away from the King before the feeling could get worse.
Alastor wondered if that puppy face directly correlated with his affection for the men or if it was just a coincidence. He hoped it was the latter. He didn't like dogs.
He felt on the verge of insanity — and not the good kind he always strove for. If he weren't already in Hell, he might've started praying for his mind.
Finally, the last guests took their seats, so Charlie stood up and clapped her hands, making everyone in the room quiet down. “Alright, guys. Today is a very special day!” Maybe praying was in order today — for patience, if Charlie’s voice was already cracking with her unending joy about having her dad participate in her ridiculous little game. “My dad — the King — has decided to join us today!”
She clapped enthusiastically, a few guests joining in, while Lucifer just silently nodded with that forced grin on his face, one purple lid twitching up.
The silence stretched for a few moments longer when Charlie expected her father to say something and her father either didn't get the hint or lacked any ideas of what to say.
Alastor looked up towards Heaven — really, he might become pious today, after all — and cleared his throat, before he said: “I rather think ‘decide’ isn't quite the apt description, my dear. I'm sure your father jumped at the opportunity to be here for you, the second you presented it to him.”
Lucifer nodded enthusiastically and Charlie yelled: “Yes! Yes, that's right, Al! Everyone is happy he is here, including him! Anyway, let's get started!”
The Princess turned around to rummage in her ‘therapy box’ as she called it and get whatever she needed for this session's game out of it.
Alastor tuned out most of her ramblings and looked at Lucifer from the corner of his eye. The King immediately noticed and shot him a tentative, grateful smile.
Alastor looked away without acknowledging it.
As it turned out, today's game was… not a game at all — Alastor was surprised that even Charlie could still reach new lows and disappoint him — but a group therapy exercise she had apparently found on the internet: a ball-sharing-circle. Meaning everyone sat in a circle (which they already did anyway) and passed around a ball and the person who held the ball had to share something about themselves.
Charlie had declared the ‘something’ had to be related to one’s biggest trauma and/or the reason one was in Hell. Alastor thought that may be a little too straightforward an exercise for people who had only just met within the last few days, but he wasn't the professional here and, for once, he also didn't mind participating and talking about what landed him down here — namely the murdering multiple people —, so he wasn't about to complain.
He was also very relieved that today's session didn't start with one of her trust exercises. As fun as it was to watch the chaos, Alastor really didn't want to have to deal with the paperwork that came with a guest accidentally poking another's eye out — again.
Charlie started off the first round, even though she hadn't had to commit any sins to land down here and her only trauma was her glaringly obvious daddy issues that — given her dad was in attendance — she was apparently working through and therefore did not feel the need to mention.
Russter — the Chicken Sinner Alastor and Lucifer had bonded gossiping over — went next. Something about running away from home to prove a point to his ‘stuck up’ parents and being killed before he could crawl back to them and apologise.
It was terribly bland, in Alastor's opinion and so he tuned out the guests as always, instead watching Lucifer fiddle with his apple cane and look like he also only heard half of what the guests were saying, the only difference between them being that the King was actively trying to listen — until the ball finally reached him.
Alastor gladly took it and, with all the flair he could muster, said: “Well, I'm sure you all know why I'm here, but if you'd like I can recount all my killings for you this fine morning. Let's see, where to start…? Ah yes, Francis Broussard. He had been an awful person all through our school years, a real pig, and when he decided to touch my best friend—”
“Alastor,” Charlie interrupted him. “The purpose of the ball-sharing is to share more about yourself.”
“You said ‘yourself or your sin.’ My sin was murdering people, so I'll tell you about murdering people.” He delighted in the way at least three guests and Charlie winced every time he said the word ‘murder’.
“Well… yes, but maybe you could talk about something else? Do you suffer from any kind of trauma?”
Alastor chuckled. “My dear, I don't suffer from trauma,” he let his demonic features poke out just enough to smell the fear on the people around him, shadows writhing through the air, tilted his head to one side — so abruptly that his neck cracked violently — and let his radio filter heavily coat his voice before going on, “trauma suffers from me.”
Charlie winced again. “Ooookay… What… What kind… of trauma… suffers from you…?”
With a single heartbeat, his shadows and filters were gone again and he jovially said, “All of them, naturally. Everything is scared of me. And rightfully so.” He looked from each guest to the next, noting their varying expressions of horror and grinned at each single one of them.
His grin widened even further when he heard the King fail to hide his snort.
“Do you… not have anything that's bothering you about your life that you want to share with us?” Charlie asked as if she really thought he was here for anything more than obligation and the occasional entertainment.
“No, I'm perfectly fine with how everything went. I can talk more about the murders, though!”
“That won't be necessary! Just—” Charlie let her head drop into her palms, sighing. “Just give the ball to Timko, please.”
“Hm,” Alastor said shrugging and gave the ball to Timko — a slim Sinner with a Rabbit Head and a deep, very melodic voice. Alastor would've loved recommending him as a singer for Mimzy's bar, had Valentino not already had the Sinner under contract. He was the newest addition to their guest list after Angel Dust had managed to get a few of his colleagues to join them.
He said something about the abusive relationship he ended up in after his parents had thrown him out of their house because of his homosexuality and the things he had to do for his former boyfriend until he died of blood loss after a sexual encounter gone bad.
Two more Sinners told their stories and then the ball landed in Lucifer's hands who stared at it as if it would come to life and bite him any second.
“…Dad?” Charlie asked when the silence had been going on for too long to be comfortable.
Lucifer jolted, stared up at her with round anxious eyes, looked into the round of Sinners and then gripped the ball as if his life depended on it.
“H-Hi! I'm Lucifer,” he said which really wasn't necessary as everyone knew who he was, “and I'm in Hell because… my Father didn't like my ideas… and actions and… me, really…” He wheezed out a nervous laugh, a golden blush creeping up to his cheeks. “He didn't need my stupid, over-the-top suggestions and then He banned me and I fell and now I'm here and… you know, um… I'm just as useless to Him as I was up there, so…” Another nervous laugh as Lucifer looked around the circle of Sinners once more, his eyes darting around nervously before focusing on Alastor as the Radio Demon let out a snort.
“What… what's so funny about that?” the King asked, his voice thin and tiny — and that wasn't even a joke about his height.
Alastor's eyes shone with what he liked to imagine as cruelty. “Oh, just that part about you being useless to Him. It's ridiculous.”
That finally seemed to move the Kind away from his nervous fidgeting. He scowled and continued with a voice far stronger than before. “I am useless. Look at me! I'm supposed to be your King and what do I do? Nothing. I haven't been ruling over you in centuries — if ever!”
“Oh, I have to agree that you aren't fit for the endless paperwork that comes with governing, yes.” Alastor grinned and tilted his head in a way he knew would aggravate the Devil.
“See!” Lucifer yelled and threw his hands into the air, almost dropping the sharing ball in his upset. “I am useless! I'm a failure! I wouldn't be here if I wasn't and I wouldn't disappoint as a King, either! I am a defect and God was so disappointed in me that He banned me from Heaven and now I have to be here for my eternal punishment as a failure to everyone else!”
“Dad—”
“No, I'm right, Charlie! I'm the only mistake He ever made and He discarded me like the broken toy I am because I was useless to Him!”
Alastor's chuckle made him freeze. The scowl on his face deepened until Alastor thought he would smite him any second now.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Alastor sobered and fixed him with a stare. “You are not useless to Him, your Majesty.”
He jumped out of his seat and started pacing before the chair he had occupied until now. “I am! You don't know how fucking stupid my ideas—”
“Lucifer.”
The King froze, stopping in his tracks, all fight leaving his posture, and stared at him.
Oh dear, that was the first time he had used his name, wasn't it? Well, that was one way to shut him up.
Alastor took a calming breath, still staring at the King with glowing-red eyes that he hoped conveyed his honesty and said, “God would be nothing without you.”
Lucifer wheezed another laugh and started up his pacing again. “Yes, He would be. He is. I'm just the Devil, I'm not even in Heaven with Him anymore! I was a mistake!”
“I personally always thought God doesn't make mistakes.”
“Yes, He does!”
“Why do you think people worship Him?”
“Because He is God! Why wouldn't they?”
Alastor's grin widened. “Why would they? Without you there would be no reason to believe in Him, would there?”
That stopped him again. “…What?”
Alastor chuckled. “You are the Devil, my dear. People are afraid of what you stand for. They're afraid of Hell. They need to be nice and choose not to sin. For you. If this fear wasn't there, what incentive do you think they'd have to choose to be nice and believe in a God?”
Lucifer stayed quiet, so he continued.
“God needed you. He still does. He needs someone who punishes the bad people. Because if there is no one to do so, there is no reason for humans to follow His rules, to pray to Him to keep them safe and save their souls. Humans need consequences. You are the consequences, my dear. And without you, nobody would care about your Father. After all, what use to believe in a God, to follow Him, if you can just do whatever and you would end up in Heaven regardless? Humans would have forgotten Him. Fast. And I'm sure He knows as much. Because He doesn't make mistakes. He made you the way you are and He let you give humans free will and then He gave you Hell, so you could fulfil the purpose you were always meant to have. You are His favourite, so He gave you the most important use of all. Because He would be nothing without you.”
There were tears in Lucifer's eyes when Alastor finished. His mouth was open, forming a little “oh” and he stared at the Demon for a moment longer before he remembered that there were still other people watching them. He looked around the room, from Sinner to Sinner, locked eyes with Alastor for a second, then turned to Charlie, whispered a quick “I'm sorry!” and vanished in a golden cloud of stardust.
When Alastor sat at the bar that evening, he almost didn't expect Lucifer to join him since no one had seen him since group therapy. So it was quite the surprise when he heard the quiet bells that broadcasted the Devil's appearance and a small, blonde figure jumped into the seat next to him and ordered a pink, fruity drink with an umbrella, just like the night before.
They drank in silence for a while, Alastor doing his best not to start up a conversation himself, in case Lucifer just wanted to be close after what happened this morning.
Then, after Lucifer had emptied his first drink and played with the umbrella while waiting for Husker to make him a second, he spoke up. “Thank you for today. I thought you were too mad to really support me, but you jumped in every time I faltered. You didn't have to do that. And what you said was… nice. I needed to hear that. I needed you to say that. So… thank you!”
Alastor stared into his whiskey glass and nodded.
“That thing about the paperwork, though…”
He snorted. “What about the paperwork?”
“You said I'm not good at doing paperwork and governing. You didn't have to start with that when you were trying to convince me I was talking nonsense. That stung.”
Alastor regarded him out of the corner of his eye and saw the Lucifer was grinning. Teasing it was, then.
“I said paperwork wasn't your forte. Which is true. You're easily distractible. Creative. Which is great for building a hotel. Or making rubber ducks. Not so much for paperwork.”
Lucifer laughed. “Yeah… I guess that's true.”
An amiable silence settled over the two, Lucifer nursing his second drink, before he started up again, “Do you really think He sent me here on purpose? All the pain I suffered, just for His plan?”
“Hm… I believe He didn't stop to think about what it would do to you. People are selfish like that and they are modelled after Him, so I suppose He would be, as well. I also think He had a plan, but wasn't sure about the consequences it would entail. Like with the humans after you gave us free will. There was a direction He wanted everything to go in, but inside those concepts of a plan He didn't have full control over what would happen and everything just evolved on its own.”
Lucifer stayed silent for a while. “Could be true,” he said, then looked up at Alastor again. “Could also not be true.”
“Do you want it to be true?”
Lucifer thought about it and took another sip of his cocktail. “When you said what you said this morning, I was… relieved. That there was a possibility that I wasn't actually a failure, a mistake. That there might be a reason why I am like this. That I'm… exactly what I'm supposed to be and I haven't fucked everything up, but did exactly what I was meant to do. Then I was… mad? That if it's true, I was still caught in my Father's plans instead of having done this for myself. Instead of earning this place, my place, myself. And mad that I'm feeling this way, this shitty, even though I did everything right.”
Lucifer's eyes had turned red and his horns had come out, so he tried to regain control of his breathing the way Alastor had shown him in the kitchen this morning.
Alastor let him and just waited.
When his eyes returned to gold, Lucifer continued: “But with what you just said… That I was meant to have my place here, but maybe He didn't want me to feel this shitty… Yeah, I think I want that to be true. That feels… better than the other options. That means, I'm not a mistake, but I'm also able to get better again because I'm not supposed to be depressed.” He thought about it for another moment, then nodded and smiled up at Alastor. “Yeah, I think I like that.”
Alastor smiled back.
Lucifer opened his mouth, as if to say something else, then hesitated, a golden blush spreading over his cheeks. “You seem less annoyed now.”
Chuckling, Alastor raised his glass to his mouth. “You seem more relaxed, too. You've been quite on edge since yesterday.”
Lucifer chuckled with him, even if more self-deprecating. “Yeah… Group therapy stressed me out pretty bad and I always get… weird when I'm nervous.”
“Hm,” Alastor said, not fully agreeing, but also not contradicting him.
“What about you? Have you… managed to ‘deal with it yourself’?”
No, he didn't think he had. Not completely. But he had thought a lot about the issue since this morning and, after what he had said to Lucifer, realised some things, too. “Today's therapy session wasn't enlightening for just one of us.”
Because if Lucifer was meant to be here at this very moment, he was also. There was a reason why his master had sent him to assist Charlie in her venture. Why talking to Lucifer was so much fun. Why they sat at the bar every night. Maybe even why he reminded him of Vox so often.
Yes, maybe there was a reason. And maybe that reason was enough for Alastor to just let it play out and see where it took them. To ‘lean back and enjoy the ride,’ as some called it.
Maybe it was time to move on and find his happiness right here, through all the hardships that would follow. Through everything his master would try to put him through.
“You called me by my name for the first time today,” Lucifer said.
Alastor's grin widened. “I did.”
“Was that a… one time thing or are we finally on a first name basis?” Lucifer asked, a hopeful smile around his lips.
“I wouldn't get used to it if I were you.” The Demon emptied his drink and stood.
Lucifer's smile altered and he followed suit.
“But if you wanted, I wouldn't mind if you joined me in my rooms for another drink tonight.”
The smile was back with all the force of a thousand stars and Lucifer nodded eagerly.
Alastor would have to explain some ground rules if they continued this in earnest. But sharing a drink and having a conversation in one of their rooms instead of at the bar every once in a while, maybe even reading or eating dinner together, couldn't hurt.
And if Alastor planned on making Lucifer help with some of his hotel duties — like cooking breakfast or making coffee, never paperwork! — to make him feel useful and his daughter even happier for his presence, he was sure Lucifer didn't mind.