Work Text:
“Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” The overexcited crooning seeped into Lucifer’s dreams, slowly dragging his consciousness back to the surface, but it was the thud of the door hitting the wall that jolted Lucifer awake, his heart pounding like a hummingbird’s and his brain both strangely sharp and muddled. “Dad!” Charlie shrieked, throwing herself at him and gasping for air.
"Ugh, Charlie, what...?"
Nightmare, his brain thought, before gently reminding him that her little girl wasn't 65 anymore. She no longer crawled into their rooms in the middle of the night, dragging the blanket and tearfully asking if she could sleep with them that night.
His daughter now had bigger problems than a bad dream.
Between facing a fight with the First Man, fighting to get Heaven and Hell to believe in her, and the absolute shit week courtesy of the box boy with his painful tickling machine.
Real problems.
Dangerous problems.
“Is everything alright?” he asked anxiously, grabbing her shoulders. It didn’t matter if he was a complete useless who only made things worse; the thought of his daughter in danger sent another surge of adrenaline through his body, accompanied by the overprotective feeling that had filled his chest since he first held the small bundle that was his daughter.
His daughter's smile eased him worry a little.
“Yes, yes, everything is fine,” she assured him, also clinging to him and moving her head like one of those little spring-headed dolls that had obsessed him for decades.
Lucifer smiled at Charlie with relief, but also with a touch of unease. Of course, his daughter didn't have any problems. And even if she did, she wouldn't come to him for help. He only made things worse.
The tiny, almost imperceptible scars on his chest seemed to throb in agreement.
“Everything is better than good!” she squealed, shaking him a little. “Mom called!” she shouted excitedly, making his ears ring.
“…Did your mom call?” Lucifer experienced the strange sensation of his heart dropping to his stomach and rising to his ears. His breath caught in his throat. “Lils… When? How? What did she say?”
Lucifer staggered, trying to get out of the multiple layers of fabrics and cushions, stretching his arm out in precarious balance to reach his phone, almost falling flat on his face when a tug and tension in the blankets made him stumble.
“Did she respond?”
Had he been too distracted the night before to hear the call or message?
He tried to remember what he had been doing the night before. The memories flooded his mind for a moment, before he dismissed them all as irrelevant.
Lilith had finally answered.
After 8 years of total silence.
He turned on his phone. His heart sank when he saw he had no notifications from Lilith.
“She didn’t say much. She apologized for not being able to answer sooner, but she was busy. ‘You know how it is,’ ” Charlie mimicked.
Lucifer closed his eyes, pushing away the disappointment. Of course, there was no answer, no call. He had a special ringtone to Lilith and Charlie. No matter how distracted he'd been the night before, he'd surely heard it and dropped everything instantly.
“Yes, yes,” he replied, his throat tight and his eyes irritated by a bit of dust. “I’m glad she called you ,” he assured her, because his daughter had missed and needed her mother and her advice.
“She said she was very proud of me.” Charlie gave her a thumbs-up and puffed out her chest like a particularly proud rooster. He gave her a faint smile.
Lilith probably hadn't called him because he was a disappointment. It wasn't the first time that had happened. When her voice wasn't enough to make herself heard, Lilith made sure her silence spoke louder than she did.
“We all are, Char-Char,” he assured her.
“She also said she’ll be here soon! She’s so excited to catch up. I told her I have a girlfriend, that the hotel is amazing … oh, and I also told her you miss her a lot.” Charlie took his hands and gave him a watery smile. “I’m pretty sure she can’t wait to see you too… Dad, aren’t you wearing any clothes?!”
Charlie opened his eyes comically. Lucifer followed his gaze, cursing as he confirmed that, yes, indeed, he wasn't wearing any clothes. Charlie sat up, turned around, and covered her eyes. Lucifer pulled the sheets up to cover himself completely, his legs almost kicking a bulge under the covers, which made him make another muffled sound for a very different reason.
“We can talk after you get changed!” Charlie squealed. “See you downstairs… I… breakfast, I’ll go make breakfast and tell Vaggi the good news!”
“I’ll change and we’ll meet downstairs!” Lucifer squealed at the same time.
Lucifer might have laughed, more hysterically than genuinely amused, at how coincidental they were, but Charlie quickly disappeared through the door, closing it with the same force with which she had opened it.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Lucifer rubbed his eyes hard. He dropped the phone on the mattress and yanked up the covers. “Alastor, this…ah”
Lucifer gazed at the pillow Alastor used to hug when he stayed in his rooms—as he'd done more and more often since they'd started helping each other lick their wounds after the Box Boy debacle—a sweet image Lucifer might, maybe, have immortalized in a drawing. His heart fluttered, as it always did whenever he realized Alastor was gone, had left him alone; but this time there was an extra chill as he touched the still-warm sheets.
“Al?” he called, his voice trembling.
How much had Alastor heard? Had Alastor left as soon as Charlie burst into the room? Lucifer could only dread the answer.
“Damn it,” Lucifer muttered, realizing the mess he’d gotten himself into. He sighed, pushed away all the memories of the previous night and the comfort of all the nights before, and stared at the family portrait as his powers enveloped him and he dressed.
Either way, he had to talk to Alastor. Lilith was coming back. She was coming back for Charlie.
(Perhaps she even came back for him).
Nothing else mattered.
Alastor slipped into the shadows the moment Charlie and Lucifer were distracted by the king's even more disreputable appearance than usual.
He appeared in his own bathroom. A laugh escaped his throat as soon as he became tangible again, his hands tugged at his hair and he slid down the floor tiles.
“Fuck my life.”
Alastor leaned over the toilet and vomited.
“Well, fuck it,” he repeated, rinsing his mouth, seeing his reflection still trembling and feeling unsteady. He looked at his Shadow, which was grinning fiercely at him. It gave another laugh and tugged at his hair. “It’s not like we’re going to be around for long. Sooner or later, everything ends, and we should find new…fun,” Alastor assured him. “We only stayed to see what the princess would do and to make Rosie wonder whether we’d help her or not,” he continued, conjuring clothes and putting them on with trembling fingers. “It wasn’t in our plans to stay.”
Alastor tried to convince himself that what bothered him was simply that his plans had been decided by others. It was the lack of choice about when to withdraw. Not that it particularly affected him. Either way, it wasn't as if he'd gotten used to it.
Again.
Alastor sometimes forgot. When things seemed to be going well and he allowed himself to be vulnerable and let his guard down, something, inevitably, reminded him of the reality of the world.
He definitely wasn't running away.
He just…had better things to do.
“Hey… Mmm…” Lucifer narrowed his eyes, letting out a sound of slight annoyance at not seeing the small name tag.
“Husk,” the sinner said in a monotone. Lucifer made sure himself the irritation in his voice wasn’t directed at him. The sinner, Husk, always seemed grumpy.
“Yes, Husk, I already knew that.” The cat raised an eyebrow. Lucifer ignored it. “Have you seen Alastor?” The cat raised another eyebrow.
“He comes and goes as he pleases. He doesn’t pay me to know.”
“Ah… okay,” was all Lucifer could manage to say in disappointment.
He'd never really gone very long without running into Alastor when he left his room. And no, it wasn't because Lucifer was intentionally looking for him or going to areas where he knew Alastor would be or might go at some point during the day; it just happened. Only this time, Lucifer was intentionally looking for him , and no one seemed to have seen Alastor.
Nobody had seen him in at least four days.
Lucifer drummed his fingers on his leg, determined to search room by room. He reassured himself that his nervousness was due to not having slept well the last few days. And that had nothing to do with Alastor's absence.
Definitely.