Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sky outside was still navy blue—too early to be awake by any reasonable teenager on summer vacation’s standard—when a portal blinked open above Takuma’s bedroom rug.

It shimmered faintly in the dark, light pulsing like a heartbeat before Charlie stumbled through in a flash of cherry-red slack and heels. She landed with a soft grunt, catching herself on the edge of the desk.

“Shh,” she hissed to no one in particular, already waving her hands. “We’re being stealthy.”

Vaggie stepped out next, far less chaotic but infinitely more tense. She scanned the room like they’d broken in and were going to get caught any second now.

“This is breaking at least three rules regarding going to the mortal realm.” Vaggie muttered, eyes darting around the dark room, noting the sea themes and the silent lump on the bed. “You didn’t even get your dad’s permission, did you?”

Charlie winced. “He taught me how to portal so I could visit. He would’ve said yes.”

Vaggie crossed her arms. “So that’s a no about getting the King of Hell’s permission on bringing a mortal to his realm.”

Charlie ignored her and tiptoed over to the bed. “Look at him though,” she whispered, kneeling beside Takuma’s bed. “He looks so cozy and cute, like a little kitten.”

Takuma, tangled in blankets with his manatee plush half-falling off the edge, grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. His curls stuck to his cheek, a bit of drool escaping his mouth, and his glasses sat neatly on the nightstand beside his charging phone.

Charlie beamed and looked up at Vaggie. “He’s going to love this.”

Vaggie looked unconvinced. “You’re about to wake up a mortal with your full demonic self, though very beautiful, it might actually traumatize him babe.”

“It’s summer vacation!” Charlie grumbled and stood. “He doesn’t have anyone to hang out with besides dad, and dad’s busy with the adoption paperwork—a lot goes into that apparently when he’s making him a prince—he’s all alone here, he shouldn’t have to be.”

“Besides, he’ll be with us at all times, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Famous last words.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the ripple of Charlie’s portal had set off wards that neither of them could detect. Wards created by someone who had been meticulous in their creation. Someone who had no intention of leaving strange entities in his charge’s bedroom.

The shadows in the corner of the room thickened, stretching like spilled ink. The temperature dropped just so.

Neither woman noticed until a figure stepped into the room—tall, antlered, and fully in his demon form.

Alastor calmed down just slightly when he saw who had intruded on Takuma’s sleep. He watched the two bumbling around, Charlie grabbing Takuma’s sketchbook and art supplies before gently putting them in a suitcase. Vaggie helping begrudgingly with Takuma’s clothes.

Alastor cleared his throat.

Vaggie spun around, if she’d had that angelic spear, it’d be at his throat, he’s sure. “Alastor-”

Charlie almost tripped on the rug under her heel and her arms pinwheeled. “Alastor! What are you doing here?” she stage-whispered.

He smiled pleasantly, that was his question, but instead he answered. “Just using your portal. I saw it open and figured—why not tag along?”

“You’re not invited!” Vaggie also stage-whispered, pointing a finger at him and then the portal. “Get out before the kid wakes up and screams. If the King of Hell finds you near his kid, you’ll be dead!”

Alastor tilted his head and stepped just close enough to make a point of being menacing. "My apologies. I assumed anyone could join when you leave a portal open willy-nilly," he hissed.

At that exact moment, Takuma groaned. “What. The fuck. Is going on?”

The room froze.

Then Takuma sat up, eyes barely open, hair a complete disaster. He blindly reached for his phone first and tried to look at it, his groggy face illuminated by the screen.

“Oh… I’m blind.” He mumbled, let the phone drop and bodily reached for his glasses.

When he put them on, he looked at his phone, saw that it read 5:45AM and glared up at the intruders.

“If you’re here to kill me, make it quick, death is the only reason to be awake this early.”

Nobody moved yet, and Takuma was finally taking in the people in his room. He recognized Charlie immediately and he’d seen pictures of Vaggie.

The other person in the room though…

Takuma blinked and looked up—and up—at all that red, the sharp yellow grin, and the burning red eyes staring back. Takuma didn’t think he’d be able to know if it was Alastor when he finally got to see his demon form, but honestly, he knew instantly.

The two stared at each other in silence, Vaggie was tensing for inevitable screams of fear and Charlie was getting ready to placate and calm everybody down, when Takuma opened his mouth.

“That’s a lot of red.”

Alastor wasn’t sure if he should be offended or impressed by his reaction to his demon form. His grin only widened.

Takuma yawned, loud and unapologetic. “Okay, so. What I’m hearing is… no one’s here to kill me and you’ve all broken into my room before six in the morning for reasons still unclear.”

Charlie stepped forward, hands up in peace. “We were going to bring you to the hotel! Surprise vacation, part two!”

Takuma blinked at her. “Surprise. Yay.”

Vaggie opened her mouth, then closed it, then asked suspiciously, “You’re not scared of the seven feet of red demon standing in your room?”

Before Takuma could answer that he couldn’t be scared of someone who cooked scrambled eggs and made him jasmine tea, Charlie beat him to it.

“I’m here! I would never let anything happen to Takuma! Besides, Alastor’s not going to eat our resident baby Morningstar!”

Takuma was awake now. “Baby?!”

Alastor tasted blood as he bit his own tongue not to laugh. There was something delightful about watching the boy treat demon royalty like they were mildly annoying door-to-door salesmen.

Meanwhile, Charlie had squished Takuma’s cheeks between her hands, grinning down at him. “You’re just so cute with your big blue eyes and your curls and those round cheeks!”

Takuma flailed, trying to pry her off—only to discover she was just as strong as Lucifer. He reached behind himself, grabbed a pillow, and smacked her square in the face with it.

The pillow made a soft thwump, knocking her back half a step if only from surprise. She let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her heart like he’d mortally wounded her.

“You hit me!” she cried, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.

Takuma squinted at her. “You woke me up, on my summer vacation, before six. I restrained myself.”

Charlie looked like she was about to retaliate with more squishing when—

“Ahem.”

Vaggie stepped between them like she was breaking up two toddlers in a sandbox. Her expression was stuck between fond exasperation and plain stress.

“Alright, fun time’s over. Can we please focus for five seconds? Do we have everything? Shouldn’t he wear a glamour? None of this is authorized and we can get into a lot of trouble!”

She then pointed a finger at Alastor, who immediately gave off mock offense. “Plus, we’ve got this hijueputa hanging around practically waiting for us to look away so he can eat!”

Alastor made a slow show of brushing invisible lint off his sleeve. “I’m flattered you think I’m the most dangerous thing in the room.”

Takuma grumbled and pushed himself out of bed. “I’m not going anywhere without brushing my teeth first.” He said and stomped passed them all and into the hall to go use the bathroom.

Charlie went and grabbed the suitcase. “And I’ll finish packing!”

Alastor narrowed his eyes at how she was just throwing clothes into the bag. He’d have to come back and make sure Takuma at least had under garments.

When Takuma returned, he looked more awake. His hair was tamed into a low ponytail, the curls that didn’t stay framed his face and forehead. He had his toothbrush, toothpaste and hair products bundled in his arms. “How long am I staying exactly?”

Charlie came over to relieve him of his bundle of toiletries. “Hopefully forever soon! But for now, we’ll say just a few weeks… maybe a month.”

Takuma glanced over at Alastor, who shrugged. He didn’t know any more than Takuma did at this juncture.

Vaggie unfortunately, caught the exchange and glared at them both. “You’re way too calm with a demon looming over you.”

It was Takuma’s turn to shrug. “Once you see the King of Hell in his full form, not much else is scary.”

Alastor hummed under his breath, and for a moment his smile deepened, shadows curling slightly at his feet. “It’s almost disappointing. I was rather looking forward to a bit of screaming.”

Takuma just chuckled and waved away the shadows that clung to his clothes. “Try again after I’ve had breakfast.”

Alastor’s grin only grew, and the two shared a secret look before Charlie came between them with the suitcase in hand and the messenger bag holding his art supplies.

“Great! We’re packed, I’ve got the portal set to land in the lobby and a stack of pancakes with your name on it back at the kitchen!”

Takuma quickly stepped over to his bed and grabbed his white throw and his plushie, before walking over to join them. Vaggie wrapped a protective arm around the mortal’s shoulders, making Alastor twitch.

The moment they stepped through the portal, Takuma’s senses were assaulted by multiple things at once.

First was how red everything was, and rundown too. Things were mismatched, like the bar in the corner didn’t match anything around it. Not like that’ll matter for him. The chandelier looked ready to fall if someone coughed too close to it, and there was a railing near it so that could very well happen.

Takuma had been under the impression with how Lucifer spent money, this place would look… maintained.

The other two things he believed fit together. How warm it was and how, even with the smell of old wood and other homie scents in the air, you couldn’t get rid of the smell of sulfur. And when he said warm, he meant like how you’re sitting right in front of the air conditioner on a hot summer day and should feel cool because you’re inside, but the heat had hit midday and had crept into the house, leaving you uncomfortable but better than if you were outside.

Alastor stood just off to the side as Charlie closed the portal and Vaggie kept Takuma close to her side. He really wanted to ask Alastor questions, he wanted to see Alastor’s room, he said he had a collection of things he’d dissected and kept in jars along his wall and a bayou he’d conjured that felt real.

He could only glance in his direction, red eyes met blue, and Alastor raised a brow with a tilt of his head.

Takuma thought he understood what he was asking, but Alastor was more guarded than when they were alone and while Takuma wasn’t bound by a deal to keep what is between them a secret, Alastor was.

It all sounded pretty exhausting honestly, he was starting to feel bad for asking so much of Alastor, if he was helping keep this place from falling apart and watching over everything while also dealing with Takuma.

A frown tugged at the corners of Takuma’s mouth and maybe Alastor was harder to read right now, Alastor didn’t have the same issues with reading the child.

A clap interrupted their mind reading and both looked over at Charlie who turned to Takuma with a big smile. “Tada! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Home of second chances!”

The mortal blinked and opened his mouth, closed it thinking better of his wording before saying. “It’s definitely… not what I expected.”

Vaggie guided him not so subtly out of direct eyeshot of Alastor, out of the lobby and towards the lounge. “What were you expecting?” she asked and there was teasing lilt to her tone.

Takuma bit his lip, trying to find his words. This wouldn’t be so difficult if he hadn’t just woken up. He’s battling with his own bluntness and sarcasm that wants to speak instead of his reasonable and cautious voice at this early hour.

“Not so mismatched, I guess. Maybe more luxury than motel eight passing off as vintage themed.” He finally replied.

Charlie looked offended, Vaggie nodded along as if he made complete sense and Alastor looked like he was holding his laughter in and it was painful, his grin took up most of his face.

Ah, fuck it, I’m too tired to be considerate.

Takuma sighed and reached forward to take the messenger back and suitcase from Charlie, balancing his plush and blanket. “You said I had a room? Breakfast?” he pushed, trying to steer them away from his mistake.

Charlie instantly brightened. “Yeah! I’ve got a room ready for you, right across the hall from me and Vaggie, so if you need anything you can just come knock.” She explained and held out her hand to him.

Takuma took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be dragged away while Vaggie helped him with his things, conveniently blocking Alastor’s view of the mortal but also blocking Takuma’s ability to see him.

Takuma tried not to be disappointed that he couldn’t get a closer look at Alastor’s real form. He drooped just slightly and resigned himself to sneaking away later to meet up with Alastor if he wasn’t busy.

He got a quick tour, told where all the bathrooms were, the way to the staff kitchen that everyone used equally and up flights of steps to his room.

One question did plague him though.

“Hey, Charlie. How’d you get Lucifer to agree to this?” he asked.

Charlie froze and spun around to give him a pained smiled. “Why would you ask that?” she answered with her own question.

Takuma couldn’t fight his smirk nor his need to needle and push. “I just thought the first place I’d see is the estate like he talked about. He never seemed to keen on being anywhere near the hotel.”

Charlie rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, he’ll freakout and then get over it.”

Takuma raised a brow. “So, you didn’t tell him where I am, we didn’t leave a note, and it looks like my room my robbed and I was actually kidnapped.”

Vaggie and Charlie immediately caught on to what he was implying.

“I should call him, be right back!” Charlie squeaked and immediately pulled out her phone and went into her room.

Vaggie sighed and shook her head, but her smile was fond. She turned to Takuma, and this was the first time they’d been alone together.

They stared at one another for a moment, before Vaggie looked uncomfortable and moved forward to open the door to Takuma’s new living space. “Why don’t you make yourself at home and we’ll come get you for breakfast in a second?”

Takuma shrugged and went inside, closing the door behind him.

He felt the shadows creep around him before Alastor materialized in front of his new bed.

“I wouldn’t get comfortable. After that phone call, I’m sure I’ll be moving you to the estate.” He assured with confidence.

Takuma went about putting his things away and his blanket and plush on the bed. “Wanna bet?”

Alastor perked up. “Ho ho, a bet you say. Do you have enjoy losing?” he teased.

Takuma pulled himself up onto the bed and lounged back against the pillows with a tired yawn. “I bet Lucifer caves to Charlie, and I get to stay.”

Alastor huffed and came to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. “And I bet he panics at the thought of his precious little mortal unprotected in sinner territory.”

Takuma smiled at him. “If I win, you have to watch a modern movie with me of my choosing.”

Alastor tsked but didn’t protest. “And when I win, I get to update your wardrobe to something a bit less modern and a bit more classy.” He replied and held out his hand.

“Is it a deal?” he purred.

Takuma blinked and looked at his hand. “You told me never to make a deal with a demon.”

Alastor hummed but his hand didn’t move. “This isn’t a soul deal. Just a friendly bet, yes?”

Takuma rolled his eyes but shook the hand, making sparks of green magic pop and sizzle. “Deal you weirdo.” He chuckled.

The Radio Demon’s grin softened just slightly, and he reached out to tweak his nose. “Brat.”

Chapter Text

By the time Takuma finished putting his things away, no help coming from the Radio Demon relaxing on his bed, there was a knock on his door.

Alastor didn’t move from the bed but dissolved into the shadows when Takuma opened the door. He reappeared behind the two women, Charlie looked like she’d won a battle and Takuma tried not to shoot a smug look at Alastor.

“Good news~” she sang. “You’re staying here! Just no leaving the hotel—and Dad’s coming by to give you a glamour.”

Takuma tried very hard to keep his smile cheery and not smug. “Oh, really? That’s awesome, I totally didn’t expect it at all.”

Alastor’s glare was loud and clear, you little shit.

Charlie grinned and gave him a pat on the head. “I knew you never doubted me, TK!”

Vaggie rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “So… breakfast.”

Takuma’s smiles were more genuine now as he stepped out and closed his door. In the time he’d put his stuff away, he’d put on a pair of jeans and plain shirt.

“Great, just one problem.”

Charlie and Vaggie looked back at him in confusion. “What?” they asked.

Takuma pointed down at his socked feet. “You didn’t grab my shoes.”

Charlie frowned. “Oh, damn it. I don’t think I have any other shoes for you.”

Takuma tilted his head. “Can’t we just go back?”

Charlie gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the back of her head. “Funny thing about that. Dad wasn’t so happy about this even though he gave in when I made some amazing points. Uh, but he uh… kiiiinda took away my ability to portal until further notice.”

Takuma just looked confused. “He can do that?”

Charlie nodded and waved her hands in the air. “He controls all of hell, nobody is allowed to portal out without his permission. If you try to get around that and get found out, it’s like a BIG deal and calls for a trial, death sentences and whatnot. I’m fine, he just turned it off for me for now.”

Takuma nodded along because yeah, that made sense. “Okay so.. I guess I can wear my slippers.”

“No need for all that.” Alastor stepped in and leaned down to be a bit closer to Takuma.

Vaggie looked like she was about to bodily throw Alastor out a window, but Alastor just snapped his fingers, and Takuma had a nice pair of shiny tan oxfords.

Takuma looked down at the shoes before snapping his head up to glare at Alastor, whose grin screamed vindicated.

Charlie looked confused as to why Alastor was helping and Vaggie just looked even more suspicious of the two. “I guess that works.” Charlie said slowly.

Takuma sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Ah, but it does off balance your whole… look.” Alastor hemmed and hawed before seemingly having a great idea and snapping his fingers again.

Takuma felt the change and knew before looking down he was going to hate it.

“Aww, the little vest is a nice touch, Alastor.”

Alastor practically preened and gripped his lapels. “My thoughts exactly, Charlie. Now off to breakfast before our little mortal faints from starvation.”

The ladies took the lead in front, both were in a heated discussion with heads together and in low voices, so Takuma took the opportunity to silently round on Alastor.

He mouthed very clearly, “You cheater!” while pointing an accusatory finger at him.

Alastor’s grin was much too pleased as he replied in the same way, “Me? Cheat? I was only trying to help.”

“Help yourself to bypassing our bet and dressing me anyway. Cheeeeaaaatttteerrr.”

Alastor turned his head and waved his hand, as if to say no, never! Before sending a gleeful side eye.

Takuma was completely riled up at this point. It was barely seven in the morning now, he hasn’t eaten or had a bit of quiet to focus and collect himself into the person people expect. So, he’s decided Alastor will feel his wrath.

His angry expression turned sly, and his smirk said you asked for this.

In the next instance, he yelped and suddenly fell. Alastor moved to his side to check if he was okay—

“Alastor! Stay away from the kid!” Vaggie exclaimed and blocked him before he could come any closer.

Alastor balked. “What?”

Charlie came over to Takuma’s side and helped him up before hugging him close. “Are you okay? Did Alastor hurt you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Takuma shook his head, his expression earnest. “N-no, I just tripped! Alastor didn’t do anything I promise! Something dark was on the floor, I thought it was a shadow but maybe it was carpet. Don’t blame Alastor, he couldn’t have done it.”

Both women whipped their heads to glare at him. Alastor smiled pleasantly and held up his hands in peace. But he caught the smug look Takuma sent him and watched him mouth “Cheater”

Alastor realized he’d been outplayed and could do nothing more than bow out, since orders wouldn’t allow him to explain himself fully.

“Apologies, Charlie, I promise to be on my best behavior.” He said through gritted teeth.

He was going to hang the boy upside down over his conjured bayou filled with gators. They weren’t real— but Takuma didn’t know that.

Breakfast should have been a mundane affair. No Angel Dust due to his work schedule, Niffty was in the vents somewhere, Husk ate a muffin and vacated the moment he saw Alastor look at him wrong.

Then came the snake.

“A child? Goodnesss, I haven’t ssseen a child in hell in quite ssssome time.” Sir Pentious wondered.

Takuma turned to look up at him and smiled. “Hi, I’m Takuma.”

Charlie grinned from beside him and leaned down to bump her head affectionately against Takuma’s. “He’s my baby brother!”

Sir Pentious’ eyes went wide, and he gasped in delight. “We have a little Prince. Heavens, I didn’t know!”

Charlie made a face. “Well, its adoption and dad is working on it. But! He’s my baby brother with or without the paperwork right now.” She explained carefully hugged Takuma while he ate.

Sir Pentious went a bit teary eyed and clasped his hands together. “Oh my, a street urchin to prince! Such a beautiful story!” he sniffed and went to hug the royalty.

“You wanted my attention. You have it now.” Alastor whispered to the snake, the shadows around him darkening half of the kitchen.

The snake demon pulled back his arms and gave a nervous laugh. “Perhaps we might revisit thisss rags to richess story another time.” He said and scurried off.

Once he was gone, the shadows receded, and Alastor waited for the girls to give him equally strange and suspicious looks to make sure Takuma’s cup of orange juice was refilled where they couldn’t see.

There was a commotion in the lobby that pulled everyone out the kitchen, Alastor reached to move Takuma behind him, but Vaggie wrapped her arm around his shoulders and kept him close when they went through the door.

Alastor took a moment to allow his rage to expand, the kitchen covered in shadows, the temperature dropping, his face elongating and changing with his eyes becoming radio dials in his anger.

In an instant he pulled himself back together and went through the shadows to rejoin the group.

As expected, Lucifer was in the lobby.

He looked like a fool—doting on Charlie and Takuma with over-the-top affection, arms flung around both of them like they weren’t taller and almost his height. He was very pleased for someone whose blood pressure skyrocketed just hours ago.

Takuma looked both startled and pleased, squished into Lucifer’s side while Charlie was bent in half and smiling indulgently. “You got here in record time.” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses with one hand.

“I couldn’t be left out of the fun,” Lucifer grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of Takuma’s head and straightening the collar of his vest. “You look dashing, Duckling. Is that a new outfit?”

 Takuma made a face and Alastor popped in to preen. “Why yes, it is! Chosen by yours truly.”

Alastor held out his hand to the King of Hell, who blinked and shook it. “Pleasure to meet you, quite the pleasure!” Alastor crooned and when their hands parted made an obvious show of wiping his claws on his lapel.

Lucifer’s eye twitched and he turned to Takuma. “Red’s a terrible color on you, let’s change that.” He deadpanned and snapped his fingers. The red vest became a dusty pink, the dark slacks now pink as well with white oxford embroider with gold accents.

Takuma looked down at himself, frowned and glared between them both. “Gee, you shouldn’t have.”

Lucifer grinned and patted his cheek affectionately. “Anything for my boy. Now let’s get you glamoured, Duckling.”

The clawed hand on his cheek moved to his chin and tilted his face just so as Lucifer moved closer. “Give me a smile, show me some teeth.” He prompted.

Takuma was bit confused but obeyed, Lucifer’s clawed thumb swiped over his canines, and they morphed from their rounded edges to sharp fangs.

While Takuma tongue explored his new teeth, Lucifer moved onto his glasses and tapped the lenses; they reflected a golden glow, and his blue eyes changed to red. He reached his ears and rang his fingers up, creating points.

“That should do it. Glamours only last so long, quick changes like this will stick and I don’t have to mess with your eyesight too much.” He explained and rubbed Takuma’s curls.

Alastor leaned down to get a better look. “He’s much too tan, a bit of grey to the skin should help.”

Lucifer hummed and tapped his claw against Takuma’s forehead and his sun kissed skin greyed just slightly, enough to look less of the living.

Charlie came around to look at him and smiled. “I’m glad his eyes are still blue under the glasses.” She commented.

Meanwhile, Takuma was still trying to figure out how to talk around the unfamiliar weight in his mouth. “Th… this is a little much. How am I supposed to talk right with these?” he slurred, sounding like he’d just left the dentist.

In a chorus of three voices was said, “You get used to it.”

Vaggie blinked at the three and cleared her throat. “Thank you, sir, that should help keep him safe here. I won’t leave his side and Charlie and I will protect him, you have my word.”

Alastor scoffed at this, and Lucifer smiled. “Thank you, Maggie, that makes me feel better knowing Takuma is safe with you.”

Takuma froze and grabbed Lucifer by the jacket to pull him close, the King went willingly as a ragdoll and leaned in to listen. “Vaggie, her name is Vaggie. She’s your daughter’s girlfriend, get it right!” he whispered through gritted teeth.

Lucifer blushed and gave an awkward laugh. “I mean, Vaggie! I said Vaggie, didn’t I say Vaggie—NICE TO MEET YOU VAGGIE!” he grinned.

Takuma rolled his eyes and felt something warm and wet on his lip, he wiped at it and came back with blood. “Ugh, I bit my lip.” He grumbled.

Charlie and Vaggie moved very quickly, scooting Takuma away from Alastor, who’d moved closer to inspect the bite. But in their eyes, he was moving in for the kill.

Lucifer didn’t catch onto this and cooed at his boy. “Aw, here, let me fix that. Charlie did that a few times when her fangs came in.” he said and touch his cheek with golden magic.

Now healed, Takuma fidgeted at too many hands holding onto him. “I’m okay.” He assured.

Vaggie glared at Alastor. “Just stay away from dark corners and stick close to me or Charlie at all times.” She ordered.

Charlie turned back to Lucifer. “Can you stay?”

Lucifer sighed and shook his head. “I’ve got a meeting in about two minutes. I can join for dinner though.” He offered.

Charlie grinned and gave a thumbs up. “That sounds perfect, Dad. We’ll see you then!”

They moved in for a hug, Takuma yanked in before he could blink.

With Lucifer gone, Charlie turned back into tour guide. “Alright, what do you want to see first?”

With Lucifer gone, Takuma had his choice of what he wanted to do.

“It’s your vacation! Uh, but we have to stay in the hotel for now. We’ll talk to dad about maybe going to one of the other rings, I’m sure that’ll be fine!”

Takuma shrugged, this was leagues better than being alone in a house and a town where he didn’t know anyone or have any friends. At least here, Charlie wanted to spend time with him, and Alastor was always around.

Alastor had looked ready to rip Lucifer apart if he could have. The mortal really didn’t understand why he was so upset. He wasn’t leaving the hotel, and from what he’d gathered, the sinners who lived here weren’t going to hurt him..

Whatever, for right now Takuma didn’t have much sympathy for him. He hated cheaters and if being unable to have him close at hand was pissing him off, it was warranted. Vaggie was kind of over doing it, but he appreciated her attentiveness and care. It wasn’t just keeping Alastor away but making sure he felt included and asked if he was thirsty or hungry.

She was actually really nice.

All that to say, they ended up in the hotel library and Takuma was pretty excited to see how big it was.

“What kind of books do you have in here?” he asked as he spun slowly, looking up and up at the tall shelves with a rolling ladder to help get to the rest.

Charlie hummed and rubbed her chin. “A little of everything I think, even a lot from earth. There’s a Dewey Decimal system over here to know what’s what.”

Takuma followed her over, he glanced down at Alastor’s shadow that had taken up residence in his own when Alastor had been pulled away for his hotelier job and gave it a secret wave and smile, which it returned enthusiastically.

“They don’t really have those anymore, but I’ve heard of them.” Takuma piped up and read all the little cubbies to find something that might interest him.

“Yeah, most places in hell have updated too, computers to help find anything. Buuut Alastor nixed any tech besides our hellphones due to who runs the tech industry down here.” Charlie explained.

Vaggie rolled her single eye. “It’s ridiculous that we have to be stuck in the stone age because of him, he’s not the boss, you are.”

Charlie shrugged though. “Vox isn’t exactly someone I want to have a lot of access to the hotel, so I don’t disagree with Alastor. Besides, we don’t need technology to do everything, it’s just convenient.”

Takuma made no comment, for one this seemed a normal argument between them and two he couldn’t say much. Before Lucifer he’d never had a phone, just a school tablet he couldn’t do anything with except submit his work, so he was a little behind in tech. The AI had taken like three hours of research and was super easy to set up, but otherwise he never really thought of what else it all could do.

“You have books on how the laws and regulations work in Hell.” He commented and pulled out the cubby to read through and find something that might interest him.

Charlie and Vaggie looked a little confused. “What use is that to you?” Vaggie asked, not unkindly.

The mortal didn’t look up as he sifted through the tiles. “Well, if I’m going to live in hell, I’d like to understand how it works better.”

“Oh, I can tell you anything you need to know!” Charlie said, coming up to stand beside him.

Takuma looked up at her. “Sure, but I’d still like to read up on it all too. Maybe you can help me make sense of things that wouldn’t be normal on earth.”

The shadow below gave a hiss, it wouldn’t sound like more then a door creaking or wood settling, but it caught Takuma’s attention enough to pull away and say, “I’m going to go grab this book. Can I hang out here for a little while? Maybe we can meet for lunch?”

The two girls shared a look, a silent communication before Vaggie sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine we’ve got some stuff to take care of for the hotel. But do not leave the library before texting Charlie that you’re done. We’ll come get you and if the shadows start being weird, call immediately.” She ordered.

Takuma gave two thumbs up. “Yes ma’am!”

Once they were gone, Alastor was there. “If you have need of knowing more about hell, I would be better suited than our cheerfully naïve princess.”

Takuma went and climbed up the rungs of the rolling ladder before turning and sitting down to be high enough so they could meet eye to eye. “I don’t think she’s naïve, I think she has a big heart for change and helping others. It’s not naïve to hope.” He argued.

Alastor scoffed. “This is hell, created to torment the damned for eternity. There is no such thing as hope here.”

Takuma frowned and twiddled his thumbs. “You seem to enjoy yourself down here.”

Alastor reached out and his claws were incredibly careful as they fixed the mortal’s collar. “I don’t own my own soul, I am at the beck and call of another, that is its own torment.”

Takuma reached up and gently grabbed Alastor’s wrists. They both froze for a moment, in the dimly lit library, where Alastor realized his error.

Takuma swallowed and looked cautious as he said. “You don’t have to do this; I don’t have to call on you unless I’m in danger. I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Alastor’s ears flattened against his skull. “Don’t be ridiculous, child. You are not my torment. You are at least entertaining. This hotel is my torment, being unable to spend time in my radio tower or hunt, that is what I hate.”

Not this. Not you. Was left unsaid.

Takuma wasn’t sure if he’d ever get a straight answer from Alastor, but if Alastor didn’t resent him, then he wouldn’t push it. If he could make Alastor happy, then he would make sure he was the perfect him for Alastor.

“Now, enough of this melancholy. What were you looking for? I’m sure I could tell you better than something from this library, it’s all horribly outdated.”

Takuma finally cracked a smile and went to right himself on the ladder, he slipped and yelped, Alastor immediately caught him. But his yelp must have been loud, because footsteps came charging in their direction and both Vaggie and Charlie came bursting through the door.

Takuma thought Alastor would let him drop so he could disappear, instead he just heard him hiss a faint curse before gently setting him down and fixing his clothes. “Be more careful, dear.” He murmured before he melted into the shadows.

After that neither Alastor nor Takuma knew peace from Vaggie.

Alastor and Takuma hadn’t been able to look at each other without Vaggie cutting into the line of sight and finding something else for the mortal to do or being in another room with her and Charlie.

Takuma was put to work on helping create flyers, which he was fine with helping if it made him more appealing. That little voice in the back of his head saying how he needed to be useful or else he’d just be a burden that they’d send back to earth when he couldn’t produce anything worthwhile.

So, he didn’t complain as he was entrusted with sketching out nice designs for the flyers and made sure they were perfect. He called out some of the art supplies that were tucked away from Japan to make them look extra nice.

He didn’t notice or maybe he didn’t hear them say they were leaving the room really quick, but he had looked up and found himself alone. Before he could wonder and worry though, Alastor’s shadow was curling around him. It was frigid but considering how warm hell was it felt nice, and he smiled at the shadow.

“Hi.” He whispered and the shadow made a happy face and wrapped more securely around him in this weird cold but no actual weight to it sort of way.

Takuma felt better knowing he wasn’t alone and finished shading the hotel drawing. “This looks awful, like a cartoon. I should scrap it and do it over.” He muttered to the shadow.

Alastor’s shadow hissed at that, and Takuma wasn’t sure if that was an agreement or a no.

Alastor himself never joined him, but that was okay, his shadow was a constant presence.

Later, when Takuma was introduced to the others properly, Alastor nearby and tense.

The spider demon named Angel Dust grinned and crouched down to at least be less of a pain in the neck to look up to. “Aren’t you a doll.” He purred.

Takuma smiled politely. “Hi Angel Dust, it’s nice to meet you.”

Angel grinned and pulled him in for a hug. “Adorable!”

Takuma accepted the hug and said, “You smell like strawberries.”

Husk felt the temperature drop near his left where Alastor was standing and coughed.

“Angel, knock it off, he’s not a toy. You’re gunna get glitter all over him.” He warned.

Angel pulled back to glare at Husk, but one look at the Radio Demon had him confused and suspicious. “Yeah, yeah. Hey baby boy, if ya ever wanna hang out jus’ let me know.”

Takuma nodded and fixed his pink vest. “I will, thank you!”

Niffty scurried around him, making the mortal a bit dizzy and when she climbed up his back to sit on his head, he almost tipped over. “Are you a bad boy?” she asked.

Takuma blinked as he met her one-eyed stare. “Um… I killed a guy.” He responded.

Everyone in the room was laser focused on him, besides Alastor who looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes but restrained himself.

Niffty giggled. “Only one?”

Takuma frowned. “I’m twelve, I haven’t had time to pick my next victim, ya know, school and all.” He quipped.

Angel snorted and laughed, Vaggie and Charlie winced and moved to separate the two. “He’s joking! The murder was self-defense, Takuma is a perfect little angel.” Charlie defended and pulled him close.

Alastor had to cough into a hand to hide his laughter and looked away when Husk shot him a suspicious look.

Sir Pentious leaned forward and gave the mortal a pat on the head. “A true prince of hell in the making! Enacting justice!” he praised.

Takuma chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.” He replied and returned Charlie’s insistent hug.

“Enough about murder!” Vaggie growled defensively and shooed everyone away. “That’s enough introductions, go find something to do.”

Alastor shot Takuma a smirk that he knew was about his comment and it was Takuma’s turn to hold back an eye roll.

No Alastor, you can’t help me pick out my next victim, that was a one time thing.

Dinner was interesting.

Pizza had been ordered for everyone—an easy crowd-pleaser, even in Hell—and the group was scattered around the lounge, chatting and digging into greasy slices. Charlie had tried to keep things casual, light. It was working… until the room pulsed with a flicker of golden light and Lucifer appeared in the middle of the lounge with the sound of a soft bell and a faint trail of red sparkles.

The entire room paused.

Lucifer, unbothered by the weight of several demons staring at him mid-bite, gave a relaxed wave. “Evening! Hope I’m not crashing anything.”

Charlie stood quickly, smile forced and motioned to the open seat between her and Takuma on the couch. “Dad, come sit! We saved you a spot.”

Lucifer walked over with his usual oblivious confidence, smoothing out his coat before sitting down. He immediately grabbed a slice from the nearest box without checking what kind it was. “So,” he said, voice bright, “who’s the one with all the arms again? Skippy?”

Angel Dust’s frowned. “It’s Angel. Angel Dust.”

Charlie’s smile was tight. Takuma, mid-chew, paused and turned to him slowly. “Seriously?”

Lucifer looked confused.

“No, nope,” Takuma said, already reaching for his bag. He pulled out a small notepad and pen, flipping it open and quickly scribbling. After a moment, he tore off the page and held it up for Lucifer to take. “That’s not okay, Lucifer.”

Lucifer’s brows rose as he took the paper. “You’re calling me Lucifer now instead of Mr. Morningstar,” he noted, almost proud. “Getting bold.”

“And you’re calling people by the wrong names,” Takuma said flatly. “Learn them. These people matter.”

Lucifer studied the list—names with quick descriptors beside each one:
Angel Dust – pink, tall, spider, sounds like he smokes
Husk – cat guy, grumpy, has wings, always drunk
Sir Pentious – snake, wears goggles, yells a lot
Niffty – small, cute, energy problem

Lucifer chuckled quietly at the note. “I see I’ve been given homework.”

“Good,” Takuma replied, taking another bite of his pizza.

Charlie smiled for real this time and leaned in to read over his shoulder. “Wow, he really did just make you a cheat sheet.”

“I feel so cared for,” Lucifer deadpanned.

“You should,” Takuma said, bumping him with his shoulder. “Because if you keep calling people the wrong names, I will make flashcards.”

Lucifer laughed and draped an arm around Takuma’s shoulders, pulling him in slightly. “Well then. Looks like I better get studying.”

To everyone’s surprise, he actually did seem to try. He joined the conversations, asked a few decent questions, and only messed up one or two names—catching himself and correcting quickly when Takuma gave him a Look™.

The rest of dinner went surprisingly smoothly after that.

Chapter Text

The Hazbin Hotel was… a lot.

Alastor had always enjoyed the chaos. The noise, the mischief, the constant opportunity to torment the staff and its two residences—it was a playground for a being like him.

But lately? He hadn’t been feeling as cheery.

Three days into this new arrangement, everyone had met Takuma—and for some unholy reason, it was Angel Dust who had decided to imprint on him.

On the fourth morning, Alastor came to check on his charge, expecting him to still be fast asleep in bed. But the room was empty.

The sound of a record scratch cracked the quiet. Alastor kept his composure by a thread, checked the bathroom—no Takuma. His shadow swept the room, came back empty, ears drooping.

Alastor melted into the walls, spreading through the hotel like a storm in the wires until—

Laughter. Takuma’s.

He emerged in the music room, where Angel Dust and Takuma were cozied up with leftover pizza and a movie playing on a TV that absolutely did not belong in that room.

Both of them were laughing at whatever was happening onscreen, Takuma still in his pajamas, one leg tucked under himself, and a pillow hugged to his chest.

The sight calmed something deep in Alastor’s chest—but only slightly.

“What’s this, then?” he asked, stepping out of the shadows. “I don’t remember this becoming a television lounge.”

Neither startled. Angel smirked like he’d been waiting for this.

Takuma looked up and smiled warmly. “Good morning, Alastor.”

Alastor approached the loveseat, towering over them both. “I don’t believe pizza is considered a breakfast food.”

Takuma shrugged, taking another bite. “Anything’s a breakfast food if you’re hungry enough.”

Alastor’s smile twitched. “Did you not eat enough for dinner? Is that why you’re up so early?”

Why didn’t you come to me?

“Relax, Smiles,” Angel drawled, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through frosting. Alastor’s crimson eyes slid from Takuma to the spider demon’s smug grin. “Junior was jus’ in the kitchen lookin’ for a snack. I’d jus’ got off work and figured—hey, leftover pizza makes a great breakfast. He’s a growing boy. Hunger hits at weird times.”

Takuma blinked slowly, the nickname finally catching up with him. “Wait. Junior?”

Angel leaned casually against the loveseat, grin sharp and teasing. “Well, y’know. Since Alastor’s basically marked you like a possessive woodland dad, figured I’d call it like I see it. You’re his mini.”

Takuma tensed, lip caught between his teeth. Alastor saw it instantly. So did Angel.

“You, uh…” Takuma started, then glanced toward Alastor, voice dropping. “You can’t tell anyone. About him being my guardian. He’s not allowed tell Charlie, and I don’t want Lucifer to get mad at him.”

Then, quieter: “And… only if he’s okay with the nickname.”

Angel softened just a hair. One of his many hands rubbed gently between Takuma’s shoulder blades. “Only if you’re good with it, kid. If not, I had a backup: Charming. Like Prince Charming.”

Takuma face scrunched up and Alastor’s grin turned playful now. “How fitting!”

Angel snorted. “But hey—keepin’ secrets? That’s gonna cost ya.”

The shift in Alastor’s aura was immediate. Angel flinched, but Takuma didn’t react at all.

“What do you want?” Alastor asked flatly.

Angel rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Oh, jus’ a small faveva. Nothin’ that’ll be any trouble from lil’ ol’ me.”

Alastor’s radio dial eyes were glaring at Angel. “You are not to ask him for blood, sexual favors of any sort, to manipulate for favor with the King or buy you drugs.”

All of Angel’s hands went up. “What the fuck Smiles! I ain’t asking the Radio Baby for nothin’ like that! Geez!”

The dials disappeared and the deer demon cocked his head.

“…Radio Baby?” Alastor repeated. “Now that, I like much better than ‘Junior.’”

Takuma blushed bright red, but he plowed on to escape this nickname talk. “One harmless no pressure favor, deal.” He declared and held out his hand.

Angel looked at Alastor, who sighed and waved his hand to go ahead, before he shook the smaller hand. “Great, and I won’ say nothin’ ‘bout you bein’ Smile’s Radio Baby.”

Takuma winced. “No, how about just TK?”

Angel chuckled and pulled him in for a hug. “Radio Baby is cute though! But I’ll only use it when it’s jus’ us. Rest a’ the time I’ll just call ya Charming.”

“No.”

Alastor leaned down, smug. “What’s the matter, dear? Are you saying you’re not charming?”

Takuma glared at him. “I’m not… charming, I’m—”

Alastor cut him off with a wag of his finger. “Tsk-tsk! Remember the king’s rule about speaking badly of yourself. I'd hate to enact it now.”

Takuma’s mouth snapped shut with a click of teeth.

Alastor laughed and Angel watched in utter amazement at this version of the Radio Demon.

And I can’t tell Husk shit.

With Angel now in the know, it actually worked well for the pair.

Takuma texted Angel when Vaggie’s attention overwhelmed him, and after almost a week of being dragged everywhere they went in the hotel, Angel was sympathetic to his plight.

Angel had swooped into the room where he was squished between Charlie and Vaggie and declared Takuma needed to chill in the lounge.

“Look at ya two, smotherin’ the shit outta the poor guy! When’s the last time he got ta jus’ sit and listen to his music and draw, huh?” he accused.

The women did look guilty, and Angel just piled on with the dramatics. “He’s on summer vacation for fuck’s sake! Makin’ the poor guy draws ya flyers for free! You should be ashamed.”

Takuma winced, okay that was a little much.

“Oh no, you’re right! I didn’t want to make you do anything for free, Takuma!” Charlie said.

“No! It’s fine, I like helping!” Takuma assured her, waving his hands frantically.

Vaggie sighed and gave him a hug. “Ugh Angel’s right though, I was just so caught up in keeping Alastor away, I didn’t think about your space.”

Takuma blushed. “It’s really no trouble! I like being with you both.”

Charlie brought her fist down onto her open palm. “Vaggie and I will brainstorm about what we can pay you for your work, but right now why don’t you go with Angel Dust and relax in the lounge?”

“If Alastor gets too close, scream and we’ll come running.” Vaggie ordered.

Takuma gave a thumbs up and a wobbly smile, he followed Angel into the hallway, shoulders tight and expression unreadable behind his glasses. The moment the door shut behind them, his smile wavered. Then fell entirely.

Angel glanced at him as they walked, slowing his steps when he noticed Takuma wasn't keeping pace. “Hey, Radio Baby? Ya good?”

Takuma nodded—too fast. “I’m fine. I’m—fine. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with them or anything, I swear.”

Angel stopped and turned, just in time to see Takuma’s breathing pick up. Shallow. Quick. His hands trembled as he wrapped his arms around himself, curling in on his small frame like he was trying to disappear.

“Hey. Hey, whoa, slow down,” Angel said, crouching slightly to meet his height. “What’s goin’ on?”

Takuma blinked fast. His chest rose and fell too quickly, and his voice cracked as he whispered, “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Ya didn’t, sweetheart,” Angel said immediately, voice soft, steady. “Nobody’s mad. Ya didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I—I made you say something,” Takuma stammered, eyes glassy and wide. “And now they probably think I’m ungrateful or difficult, and—” He choked, pressing a shaking hand to his chest. “And I can’t be too much, okay? That’s the rule. I can’t be too much, or they won’t want me anymore.”

Angel’s heart sank. “Takuma…”

“I’ve always been the quiet one. The useful one. The one who doesn’t ask for anything. That’s how you get to stay. That’s how you make people want to keep you.”

Angel stepped closer, letting him see—really see—that he wasn’t going to back away. “Ya don’t have to earn your spot here. You’s already wanted, just for being you.”

Takuma laughed, but it was hollow and sharp. “If I was really me… they wouldn’t like me at all.”

Angel’s breath caught. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it’s not.” Angel’s voice was firmer now, protective. “Ya think I’d be hangin’ out with ya if ya weren’t worth it? Ya think Alastor—of all people—would care about ya like he does if ya weren’t something special? I’m not sayin’ the guy’s sane, but he’s real picky.”

Takuma squeezed his arms tighter. “But what if they figure it out? What if I’m not good enough when I’m not trying so hard? What if they leave?”

Angel saw the tears now, threatening at the corners of Takuma’s eyes, and he didn’t hesitate. He opened his arms.

“Ya want a hug?” he offered gently.

Takuma hesitated for one breath—then stepped forward and collapsed against him.

Angel wrapped him up tight, one hand smoothing down the back of his head.

“You’re not too much,” he murmured. “You’re just a kid who’s been through too much.”

Takuma nodded against his chest but didn’t speak. He didn’t have to.

Angel looked down the hall, frustration bubbling under the surface. He could comfort Takuma now—but this wasn’t something he could fix on his own. Not completely.

He looked toward the shadows, then whispered firmly into the quiet:

“Smiles. If you’re listenin’, I need ya.”

There was no dramatic flourish this time. Just a ripple of static, a shift of shadows, and then Alastor stood there, sharp eyes instantly falling on Takuma curled into Angel’s side.

The look on Alastor’s face was murderous, but Angel held up a hand.

“He’s okay,” he said. “Just… not okay.”

Alastor stepped forward, eyes never leaving Takuma. Angel gently nudged the boy toward him.

“Go on, kid,” he murmured. “I think someone else needs to remind ya how wanted ya are.”

Takuma turned, eyes still wet but open, and reached wordlessly for Alastor.

And the moment the demon folded him into his arms, all the tension in Takuma’s shoulders finally began to melt away.

Alastor didn’t say anything at first.

He simply gathered Takuma up in his arms like something precious—fragile, not weak. His hands moved automatically, one cradling the back of the boy’s head, the other pressing gently between his shoulders, holding him close enough to feel every shaky breath.

Angel stepped back, giving them space, and without a word Alastor turned and stepped into the nearest shadow. They vanished in a flicker of black and green.

The suite Alastor had claimed at the hotel was tucked far from the others—soundproof, warded, lit dimly in warm red and the further back by his conjured bayou it lit into greens. The moment they arrived, Alastor guided Takuma to the fainting couch near the fireplace and sat with him sideways across his lap, his shadow appeared with the throw, and he gently adjusted his white throw blanket around his small frame.

He didn’t speak until Takuma did.

“I’m sorry,” Takuma murmured, voice hoarse. He rubbed at his nose with the sleeve of his sweater. “You probably had things to do.”

“I did,” Alastor agreed lightly. “But none quite as important as this.”

Takuma blinked up at him.

“I could hardly continue organizing the bars alcohol supply while my ward was busy unraveling in the hallway, now, could I?” he added, and his smile curved soft around the edges. Not biting. Not mocking. Just… soft.

Takuma buried his face into his shoulder. “I wasn’t spiraling.”

“You were unraveling with alarming efficiency,” Alastor murmured, brushing Takuma’s curls back from his damp forehead. “Luckily for us both, I am an expert at mending things.”

They sat like that for several minutes, the room filled only with the low crackle of the fire and the faint hum of an old jazz record spinning quietly in the background. Alastor didn’t rush him. He simply let the silence hold.

After a while, Takuma stirred. “I didn’t mean to be a problem.”

“You are not a problem,” Alastor said at once, voice a little sharper than intended. “You are a twelve-year-old mortal placed in an impossible situation. If anyone is a problem, it is everyone else for not understanding that.”

Takuma blinked, surprised. “Even Vaggie?”

Alastor’s lips thinned. “Especially Vaggie.”

Takuma gave a tired little laugh.

“I don’t want people to get sick of me,” he said eventually. “That’s all. I just… don’t want to ruin this.”

Alastor tilted his head, gazing down at him. “You’re not ruining anything. You’re living.”

His shadow materialized with a cup of tea for Takuma and a cup of black coffee for Alastor himself. Takuma took it with both hands and sipped slowly.

“I hate being like this, I don’t know how to be normal.” Takuma admitted.

“No one is normal, not in life nor their afterlife. Everyone just tries to fit in. How dreadfully dull. You, at least, refuse to compromise your edges, I like that.” Alastor said with a hum.

Takuma smiled faintly behind his cup. “You do?”

“I do.” Alastor watched him drink, his expression unreadable. “But I also think you need a break.”

Takuma looked up at him again. “This is a break.”

“No, no. I mean a proper one.” Alastor adjusted his position so to lean back more comfortably with Takuma still tucked against him. “No one else. No expectations. No interruptions. Just tea, sketching, and peace.”

Takuma exhaled as the shadows took his now empty cup of tea and he was able to relax against Alastor. “That does sound nice.”

“I only have nice ideas.” Alastor replied with a wink.

They sat there, curled together on the couch in companionable silence until Takuma drifted off, drained from his panic attack and feeling safe enough to doze. Alastor didn’t move, just watched with one arm resting behind the boy and other idly running through dark curls.

Inside, the Radio Demon seethed. Watching the boy breathe evenly against him, Alastor knew one thing for certain—this had gone on long enough. Tonight, he would speak to Lucifer.

The shadows peeled away from the corner of Lucifer’s study like smoke curling through velvet. Alastor stepped free of them without his usual dramatics—no song, no cane.

Just fury.

Lucifer, seated at his sprawling desk beneath a pool of golden light, didn’t flinch. He didn’t even look up. His pen moved fluidly across a parchment marked with an arcane script, a neat stack of legal documents arranged beside it.

“Adoption requires significantly more paperwork than I thought,” he said mildly. “Especially when bloodlines are involved.”

“Do not deflect.” Alastor’s voice was low, but it scraped across the room like static on glass. “You knew Charlie took him to the hotel.”

“I did,” Lucifer replied calmly, setting his pen aside at last. “And I let it happen.”

Alastor’s eyes flared red. “You let a mortal child—a fragile, human child—be paraded through that hotel like a novelty pet. Do you know what’s down there? Who’s down there?”

Lucifer finally looked up. “Yes. You.”

Alastor’s mouth opened—then snapped shut. He stepped forward until he was nearly across the desk, shoulders tense and jaw tight.

“You were meant to keep him at the estate.”

“I was meant,” Lucifer said smoothly, “to help him adjust. To help him understand this world. I thought easing him somewhere less sterile than my mansion might help him form real connections. Friendships.”

Alastor’s fingers twitched at his sides. “You took a risk.”

“I took a calculated risk,” Lucifer corrected, standing. His presence pressed in like heat. “Because I’ve been reading, Alastor. About trauma. About children. About how humans need more than just shelter and food and guardians breathing down their necks.”

His red eyes softened—just slightly. “He needs room to breathe. To stumble. And people who will catch him when he does.”

Alastor’s smile turned cold, serrated. “And what makes you think they will catch him?”

Lucifer stepped around the desk, slow and deliberate. “Because they’ve already started to. Angel Dust. Husk. Charlie, in her beautifully chaotic way. And because you were already there, ready to gut anyone who dared reach too close.”

Alastor’s pupils narrowed. “Don’t mistake restraint for permission.”

“I don’t.” Lucifer was in front of him now. Close enough to touch. “But I do see it for what it is.”

Alastor didn’t respond.

Lucifer’s voice dropped, just a breath lower. “You’re starting to care about him.”

Alastor’s whole body went still.

“I’m bound to him—”

“That’s not what I said.”

A flicker of emotion crossed Alastor's face. He didn’t have words for it yet. Lucifer saw it—and smiled.

“I like this side of you,” he said, quiet. “This feral, possessive thing. It suits you.”

Alastor’s voice turned clipped. “You’re playing with fire, your majesty.”

“And you’re pretending you don’t enjoy the burn.”

Alastor sucked in a breath through his teeth. “You think this is a game.”

“No,” Lucifer said, softer now. “I think you’re scared. And for once, it’s not of the person holding your leash.”

The words hit too true.

Alastor turned sharply, about to vanish into the shadows again—but Lucifer caught his wrist, gently, grounding him.

“You didn’t fail,” he said gently. “You protected him. And he chose you.”

Alastor’s throat worked as he looked down at the hand around his wrist—but he didn’t pull away.

Lucifer’s smile was bittersweet. “It’s okay to choose him back. It’s such a lovely thing, being loved by a child. I almost lost it with Charlie. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Alastor’s eyes flicked up, something unreadable flashing behind the red glow.

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not when the words sat too heavy on his tongue.

Lucifer, still holding his wrist with surprising gentleness, stepped just a fraction closer. “You’ve spent so long being feared. Loathed.” His voice dropped to a murmur. “Let yourself be wanted.”

A beat passed.

Then another.

Alastor’s smile faltered. Not vanished—just softened. Raw around the edges. Real.

“I don’t know how,” he confessed, barely more than a whisper.

Lucifer let go.

“You’ll figure it out. He already thinks the world of you.”

Alastor stood frozen for a long moment. And then, with less drama than usual, he turned and stepped into the shadows—gone without fanfare.

Lucifer stood alone in the quiet room, looking down at the faint scorch his own power left in the floor when his fingers had brushed Alastor’s skin.

He smiled to himself, rueful.

“Progress,” he said aloud to no one in particular.

Then he turned back to the desk, where a file labeled Morningstar-Takuma sat waiting.

And got back to work.

The suite was silent when Alastor reappeared, stepping from the shadows with none of his usual theatricality. The lamps were dimmed low, casting long eerie green light across the floor and walls. The radio he’d left on playing soft jazz.

Takuma was still curled on the fainting couch, now half-asleep, blinking blearily up at the ceiling as though trying to remember where he was.

Alastor approached slowly, careful not to startle him. “You’re awake.”

Takuma turned his head, eyes barely open, curls mussed and sticking to one cheek. “You left.”

There wasn’t an accusation in it—just quiet observation.

Alastor paused. “I had to… speak with Lucifer.”

Takuma blinked a few more times, then sighed. “Did you yell at him?”

Alastor’s ever-present grin twitched. “Yes.”

“Of course you did.” Takuma chuckled.

He sank down beside the boy carefully, not in his usual sweeping motion, but like he was afraid he might break something if he moved too fast. His shadow coiled protectively at their feet, flicking out toward the tea tray and relighting the fire with a gentle pop.

Takuma scooted closer on instinct, still sleep-heavy, until his side pressed against Alastor’s. “Are you still mad?”

Alastor didn’t answer right away. He looked at the boy, at the way he leaned against him without hesitation now, the way his small hand gripped the edge of Alastor’s sleeve like an anchor.

“No,” he said softly. “I’m not mad.”

“Did he yell back?”

Alastor snorted faintly. “Lucifer doesn’t yell. He weaponizes tenderness. It’s far more irritating.”

Takuma smiled faintly at that, then tilted his head against Alastor’s arm. “You okay?”

Alastor blinked. Of all the things to ask…

“I’m fine,” he answered after a moment. Then, a little quieter: “You’re the one who had a rough start to your day. I suppose I owe Angel for keeping them at bay for the rest of it.”

Takuma shrugged a shoulder. “I feel better now.”

Alastor’s expression shifted, softened. “Good.”

Silence wrapped around them again, soft, and safe. Alastor raised a hand to gently comb through Takuma’s curls, smoothing them away from his forehead.

“Thank you.”

Alastor’s hand stilled.

“Being with you isn’t so overwhelming.” Takuma yawned.

There was a heartbeat of silence. Then another.

Alastor’s fingers resumed their slow motion through his hair.

“Happy to be of service, my dear,” the demon murmured at last.

Takuma didn’t reply. But he didn’t need to.

Because a moment later, he shifted just enough to curl up fully against Alastor’s side, his breathing already slowing again.

And Alastor stayed there, still, and quiet, the fire crackling softly in front of them.

Choosing.

Chapter Text

The suite was still and quiet in the early morning hours. Dim light shimmered green and gold from the conjured bayou, shadows dancing like lazy gators in the still waters. The old radio on the shelf hummed soft jazz.

Alastor dozed lightly in his armchair, legs crossed, chin resting against his closed fist. His ears twitching now and then whenever noise came from the hallway.

Takuma, tucked beneath layers of plush blankets in Alastor’s bed, remained fast asleep, his breathing soft and even.

The quiet was shattered by a soft snap.

It wasn’t loud, but it was enough for Alastor to jerk awake with a sharp inhale, shadows rising and flickering along the edges of the room like smoke looking for a spark. His eyes switched to dials violently—and then narrowed when he saw the intruder standing near the foot of his bed, utterly unbothered.

Lucifer.

The King walked around the bed to check on Takuma, leaning forward to brush a kiss on top of soft frizzed curls before backing away quietly and setting his sights on Alastor.

The grin he shot at him as he walked over only seemed to rile the Radio Demon up more. “Good morning, Bambi,” Lucifer purred, his grin smug as sin and twice as undeserved, hands in his pockets like he didn’t just break wards of an Overlord as though they were paper.

“You—how did you—” Alastor’s voice cracked, static rising with every syllable. “My wards—!”

“Didn’t even tickle,” Lucifer shrugged, smile a bit smug and condescending. “You’ll have to upgrade if you want to keep out an intruder of the celestial sort.”

Alastor surged upright from the chair, teeth bared in a wide snarling smile. “You don’t belong in my suite—”

Lucifer held up a hand, palm forward, and tilted his head with a lazy grin. “Relax, I’m not here to cause trouble. Well, maybe a little trouble.”

The static in Alastor’s aura began to recede, but his glare remained lethal. “Then why are you here?”

Lucifer wandered toward the fainting couch, taking his time like this was a casual social visit. “I’ve decided,” he said, casting a glance toward the bed where Takuma remained fast asleep. “To be more involved. Present. Help with his anxieties and be a buffer for you and the others.”

Alastor stiffened. “And this needed to be announced here? In my rooms?”

Lucifer stopped his wandering and general snooping of the room to lean on the back of the chair Alastor had vacated. “Well, you already had your soft-and-sweet reveal last night. Thought you’d be a little more open to my help, now that I’ve seen you go full snuggle-mode.”

Alastor froze, eyes wide.

Lucifer’s smile widened. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not mocking you, I liked it. Very nurturing of you, very domestic.”

Alastor’s voice dropped an octave. “You were watching.”

Lucifer shrugged again. “For the record, you’re adorable when you’re trying not to be affectionate. All that restraint, tense shoulders, and whispers of reassurance. Holding him like he’s precious. I dare say you were… tender.”

Alastor hissed between his teeth, ears flat against his skull. “I am going to kill you.”

Lucifer hushed him, “Not in front of the child,” he murmured, glancing at the bed. “Who, might I remind you, chose you to comfort him. And if I recall, you didn’t look all that put out by the moment.”

Alastor flushed, ears still back. He turned abruptly, facing away, as if the angle would protect what remained of his composure. He wasn’t sure if it was shame or something far worse—affection—burning behind his eyes.

Lucifer pushed off the chair and strolled around, hands behind his back, voice lowering slightly. “I like this version of you.”

“Spare me.”

“I’m serious.” His voice took on a velvet note, smoother, like a purr. “I like seeing what you are when you let go the performance. When you stop pretending you’re above genuine feelings.”

Alastor gave a strained chuckle. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

Lucifer leaned in, enough that Alastor could feel the curve of his shoulder without touch, the heat of his form and the smell of apples and a hint of brimstone coming from him. “You forget Alastor, I am feeling, always. That’s why I don’t playhouse like you do. You wrap your care in thorns, but underneath it? You’re feral. Possessive. And you hate that about yourself.”

Alastor’s lips parted to retort—but Lucifer’s next words silenced him.

“It’s alright to care, Bambi. Even for a mortal. Especially this mortal.”

Alastor clenched his jaw and straightened his coat. “You enjoy this far too much.”

Lucifer smirked and moved to stand in front of him, chest out and arms still hidden behind his back. “Of course I do. I like you best when you’re flustered.”

“You enjoy seeing me irrational.” Alastor corrected with a growled.

“Of course,” Lucifer said again, stepping forward and leaning up into his space and closer to his grinning face. “It makes you interesting.”

Behind them, Takuma made a soft sleepy sound, rolling onto his side in the bed, still deep in sleep. Both men turned to look. Alastor’s expression turned soft without thinking. Lucifer saw it and didn’t hide his own smile.

“I’ll start breakfast.” The King said finally. “Join us when he wakes up.”

And with another snap—he vanished.

Alastor stared at the empty space where he’d stood.

“…I hate him.” He muttered quietly.

His shadow sniggered in his ear, a wisp of sound, he sighed.

“Infuriating bastard… with an excellent sense of timing.”

But his hand still rested on the back of the chair where Lucifer had leaned, claws curling once before retreating. Then, after a pause, he turned back to the bed, where Takuma was still fast asleep.

“Flustered,” he repeated with a scoff. “We’ll see about that.”

The day unfolded like a quiet, well-orchestrated symphony.

Lucifer didn’t announce his presence so much as melt into the thrum of chaos. He explained to Charlie how he was still working on the paperwork, but it shouldn’t be his only focus. She agreed wholeheartedly and welcomed him to the hotel. They came to an unspoken truce—Lucifer wouldn’t comment on the purpose of the hotel, and Charlie was happy to slip in subtle nudges about it whenever she could.

More importantly, they both recognized that Takuma was easily overwhelmed, and agreed it would be good to balance his stay.

Whenever Takuma got flustered or tired, Lucifer would swoop in with an arm around his shoulder, flash a grin at his daughter and her girlfriend, and steer Takuma down the hallway, chatting about the things they could do together.

Meanwhile, whenever Lucifer passed Alastor, the Radio Demon would feel phantom touches on his hip, wrist, or the slope of his back. He never caught Lucifer in the act, and no one else seemed to notice—but the sensation was always there, leaving Alastor simmering like a pot just under a boil.

Lucifer was infuriating.

He was also warm. Present. Uncannily good at slipping into a room and making himself the center of it—just when he was needed.

But every time Takuma was whisked away, he was deposited quietly back beside Alastor not long after… or Alastor just happened to be guided into the moment—his cup filled with black coffee, no fanfare, no big words. Just a glance from Lucifer and a smile that said: You can trust me with this.

Alastor found his busy hotelier days bypassed with breaks of piano music and Takuma eager to learn something new from Alastor. Lucifer always nearby. Lingering too close. A ghost of a touch trailing along his wrist, claws curling down his palm before pulling away when Alastor’s hand would twitch or spasm.

Maybe that was why he was able to be manipulated into that blasted movie night he’d so far avoided.

“You shook on it, Alastor. There were magical sparks and all,” Takuma reminded him, holding up two DVD cases.

“We agreed on one movie,” Alastor replied, glaring.

Takuma glared back. “Cheater,” he said, pointedly.

Lucifer, sitting nearby, looked amused. “Oh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Are you being called a cheater, Alastor? My, how the tables turn.”

“I,” Alastor began, indignantly tugging at his lapels, “did not cheat. I adjusted expectations. That is not the same thing.”

Takuma turned the cases over in his hands, then held up The Incredibles with a flourish. “We said a movie night. Singular. But then you went and dressed me—according to Angel—as your mini-me, sooo… The Incredibles and Incredibles 2. That’s only fair.”

Lucifer leaned back on the couch, stretching his arms along the backrest. “Oh, I like this one. Family drama, laser baby, surprise villain reveal… a classic.”

Alastor came to sit stiffly on the other end of the loveseat, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap. He’d already shaken on this. He was trapped.

“Put it on, then. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, resting his head against his propped-up fist.

He still wasn’t sure how his precious music room had become a TV room, complete with a flat-screen picture box mounted on the wall. Takuma must have used the powers Lucifer had granted him. The boldness surprised Alastor—but he didn’t hate it.

Once the movie started, Takuma sat between them on the couch. He curled into Lucifer’s side, and the King immediately wrapped an arm around him, beaming.

Takuma had invited Charlie and Vaggie too—much to Lucifer’s mild horror—but the girls were out on a date night. They promised to have a movie night with just the three of them next time.

Alastor side-eyed the pair and caught Lucifer already watching him. The King’s smile was playful. Inviting. His arm wrapped around Takuma’s shoulder shifted, and he curled one finger toward Alastor in a subtle come-hither gesture.

Alastor blushed and looked away, glaring at the screen. The movie was horribly modern. Not a single tasteful black-and-white silent frame in sight. But he fulfilled his end of the deal and sat through it with grace.

When Takuma got up to change the disc to Incredibles 2, Alastor rose from his seat. “That’s quite enough for me—”

Lucifer cleared his throat.

“Takuma tells me you have a radio tower. That you used to broadcast. A shame you won’t stay—this one might give you ideas for your next show.”

Alastor’s red eyes flicked toward Takuma, who was watching him with that calm, patient smile.

“Don’t be absurd. No film will inspire a broadcast. I already have notes prepared for my return to the tower,” Alastor replied.

Lucifer tipped his head. “I suppose you don’t need to be so… invested in everything Charlie asks of you. Just for a few hours.”

Alastor made a noise in the back of his throat.

Because just like that, he was trapped again. By a mortal child who was now curled up waiting on the couch, and by a King who knew exactly how to pull his strings.

Alastor sighed and sat back down.

Takuma nestled against him this time, warm and content.

Alastor let an arm slide behind him, pulling him close.

Then—again—that phantom touch. Gentle claws up the side of his neck, curling into the short-shaved hair at the base of his skull. It made Alastor shiver. When he looked, Lucifer hadn’t moved from his relaxed posture. Just smiled innocently at the screen.

The touch didn’t stop. Just curled there, possessive. Alastor tried not to squirm with Takuma pressed to his side.

He was trapped.

And not just in this moment.

They needed to talk.

Later that night, Lucifer had tucked Takuma into his own bed and warded the room to ease Alastor’s mind. The hotel was quiet; apparently, Angel and the others had gone out clubbing.

In Alastor’s room, the fire crackled quietly, the radio played Cab Calloway, and Alastor tried to relax.

He stood in his bayou, past the waters, leaning against a cypress tree. His claws dug into the soft wood, trying to anchor himself and get a hold on whatever was wrong with him. He held himself so tight his shoulders trembled from the tension.

Lucifer was entirely to blame. His phantom touches, never giving a moment to reorient himself, keeping Alastor on the edge of something. Something he’d never felt before. Never cared to indulge in before.

Alastor yanked a claw free to run it through his hair and down his neck, scratching at the sensation of phantom touches.

Fuck that devil.

A soft hum drifted through the trees—a melodious voice singing along to Calloway. Alastor heard him before he saw him.

Fucking Lucifer.

He didn’t hear the crunch of shoes in the grass, but suddenly Lucifer was leaning around the tree and smiling at him.

“You’ve been holding that tension in your shoulders for hours,” Lucifer said, voice smooth as smoke and honey.

Alastor inhaled slowly through his nose. “I’ve been working.”

“You’ve been pretending you’re not affected,” Lucifer corrected gently. “That’s a different kind of labor entirely.”

Lucifer came around the tree and leaned against it too—his presence more real than the tree, a warmth this conjured bayou couldn’t provide. He wasn’t the doting dad who fumbled names and baby-talked a preteen and young adult woman.

This was Lucifer, the King of Hell. The embodiment of pressure. Of gravity. Alastor had lured men like this before—men who thought they were this. He’d murdered them.

But none of those men had been this.

They were cheap imitations.

This? This was a true predator. And he had his red eyes locked on Alastor.

The thrill it gave him didn’t make him want to run—it made his stomach flutter.

Lucifer shuffled closer. It shouldn’t have looked as smooth as it did.

“You know what I want.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, tense and sharp. “Do I?”

“I want you,” Lucifer said, plain and unflinching. “I’ve wanted you for some time. I get the feeling I wanted you even before I remembered the contract.”

Alastor’s throat bobbed.

“I know it’s complicated,” Lucifer continued, voice soft but determined. “I own your soul. That muddies the waters. I’m not here to coerce or manipulate. I don’t need to. If you don’t want me, say it plainly. I’ll never press you again.”

Silence hung in the bayou, the tension taut like a bowstring.

“I…” Alastor’s voice cracked. He coughed and tried again. “I’ve never—felt this sort of thing. Not as a man. Not in this form either. Desire, romance—it’s always been… irrelevant. Pointless. A performance, at best.”

Lucifer’s claws found his, still stuck in the tree—trapped—and scraped gently down his knuckles.

“And now?”

Alastor turned his head slightly but didn’t look at him. “Now you’re interfering with my routine. I can’t think straight around you. Before, it was just fun banter and teasing. Now it’s… more than I can keep up with. Dizzying.”

Lucifer smiled. “That sounds a lot like wanting.”

“I don’t,” Alastor snapped—too quickly.

Lucifer’s eyes glittered. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not—!”

“I’m the King of Hell,” Lucifer said, stepping around the tree, circling. “The Father of Lies. You cannot lie to me. You can deceive yourself. You can run yourself in circles. But I will always know the truth.”

Lucifer came to a stop directly in front of him. Though Alastor towered over him, there was no question who commanded this moment.

He stood close enough their shoes nearly touched—yet not quite close enough to break the tension building like pressure in Alastor’s spine.

His voice dropped to a purr, velvet-soft and laced with fire.

“But I won’t take what isn’t offered. I want you—but I’ll never force you. If you don’t want me, say it. Say the words, Alastor. No grinning. No euphemisms. No hiding behind that charming mask. Look me in the eye and tell me: you do not want me.”

Alastor’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

He tried again—his claws raking through his hair, the other still clinging to the tree.

“I…”

Lucifer waited, one brow arched. Patient. Predatory.

Alastor finally met his gaze fully. His own eyes wide. Desperate.

“I can’t,” he murmured.

A hint of hysteria clung to the words.

Lucifer’s eyes flickered wide for a moment, then his grin spread like slow poison. His red eyes turned half-lidded, purple tint curling at their edges.

The sight seared through Alastor like a brand.

Unholy hell, he could not stand it.

“Well, then,” Lucifer purred, stepping forward until their chests brushed, “unless I hear the words I don’t want you, I’m going to assume you’re mine to ruin.”

Alastor’s pupils blew wide. “Lucifer—”

“I’m going to unravel you,” the King continued, whispering as he leaned in. On his tiptoes, which should’ve been ridiculous, Alastor could only shiver at the heat of him.

“Peel back every polished layer. Make you feel what you’ve buried for decades. I’ll start with little touches in the hallways. Soft words whispered so no one else can hear. But it won’t stay gentle, Alastor. I’m not a patient king.”

He leaned up to graze Alastor’s jaw with his breath.

“I want to taste your desperation.”

Alastor’s knees nearly buckled. He tried to grab him—snag the lapels of that fine coat—but Lucifer caught his wrist and stilled him with a smile.

“You’ll come undone,” Lucifer promised, voice like velvet steel, “and when you do… I’ll be there to catch every piece.”

The breath left Alastor in a broken sound—more beast than man—as he dipped his head, too fast, too eager.

But Lucifer had already stepped back, easy as blinking.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and with a wink and hands stuffed into his pockets, he vanished from the bayou like he’d never been there at all.

Alastor finally yanked his claw free and slapped a hand over his mouth.

He was trembling.

With something he'd never allowed before.

Want.
Need.

“…Bastard,” he whispered, hoarse.

His shadow—traitorous thing—curled tighter around his feet and trembled with silent laughter.

Chapter Text

The next day, Alastor was a mess.

Not outwardly, of course. Outwardly he was, as ever, pristine—pressed lapels, polished shoes, wide sharp grin affixed like a weapon. But inside? Inside, he was on fire.

Every time he walked through the halls, he expected to see him. Smell apples and brimstone, feel the lingering phantom scratch of claws across his spine. Every time he did see him, Lucifer gave him that look—that warm, knowing smirk with just enough glint in the eyes to say I remember everything I said, and I meant it.

Alastor wanted to grab him by the collar and see what he tasted like. And not in the enjoyable cannibalistic fashion one might assume.

Alastor also wanted to dive into his shadows and never come back.

In his infinite wisdom, he chose a third option: Distraction.

Specifically, Takuma.

With Lucifer’s unexpected help—who had somehow become Alastor’s most supportive ally in repressing emotions—they were finally able to enjoy some peace together without Vaggie storming in every five minutes. A relief for them both.

Their day started in the library. Takuma hadn’t been back since his first visit, and he practically beamed as he climbed the rolling ladder again. This time, Alastor fussed like a fussy old man. “Careful! One step at a time, mind your grip!”

Takuma collected far too many books, of course. Alastor’s shadow helped him carry the pile to a reading table with a lamp, where Alastor flipped through the stack out of curiosity.

He stopped when he saw Sherlock Holmes among them. “Ugh. This rag?”

Takuma gasped, scandalized. “You did not just disrespect Sherlock Holmes.”

Alastor chuckled. “Oh? A favorite of yours?”

Takuma snatched the book back like it might be stolen. “As a matter of fact, yes. When I grow up and have a place of my own, I’m going to have a library—like, a real one—with all the books. Especially first editions if I can find them. Sherlock Holmes included.”

Alastor blinked, genuinely surprised. “You don’t own any?”

Takuma gave him a look. “Until Lucifer came along, the only things I could keep were what fit in a black trash bag. That’s just how it works.” He said it like it was a fact of life.

Alastor’s claws twitched. His shadow, as if mourning, coiled protectively around Takuma’s feet.

Later, they made their way to the long-unused art room. Alastor’s poppets had cleaned it in advance. The space now held a wingback chair in the corner beside a small side table and lamp. An easel and painting chair were set under a skylight that mimicked natural light.

Takuma had paused at the doorway, taken aback. But soon enough, he took the seat and summoned the paints from the store they’d visited in Japan.

Alastor claimed the armchair and conjured himself a book and coffee, lounging comfortably as Takuma began sketching.

“You don’t have to stay,” Takuma murmured without looking up. “You can go if you’re busy.”

“Who said I’m not working?” Alastor replied, lifting his mug. “I happen to be a very diligent supervisor.”

He turned the page, pretending not to notice Takuma’s quiet smile.

They ended the afternoon in the music room, just before dinner. Takuma’s eyes were strained from painting, and Alastor insisted on a break. The boy sat at the piano, stretching his fingers and playing something unfamiliar to the Radio Demon’s ear.

“What is that you’re playing?” Alastor asked, stepping up behind him.

“Merry-Go-Round of Life—from Howl’s Moving Castle. It’s a jazzier version of the original.”

“Studio Ghibli,” Alastor muttered. “We visited their museum, yes?”

Takuma nodded. “You liked the artwork. Said it was timeless—until you saw the soot sprites and changed your mind.”

Alastor’s ears flattened slightly as he sat beside him. “I stand by that. Horrid little creatures.”

“People like them. They think they’re cute.”

“People,” Alastor sniffed, “are frequently wrong.”

Then he waved it off. “Let me show you something I learned when I was your age.”

They played together for nearly an hour—Alastor guiding him through an old jazz tune he’d learned from his mother. Takuma absorbed it like a sponge, asking smart questions, matching chords, and finally playing through it with only a few stumbles.

Alastor beamed.

That’s when the door opened behind them.

“Ah—here’s where my two favorite guys are.”

Lucifer’s voice was as warm as the fire crackling in the nearby hearth.

Alastor froze. His ears twitched. And to his horror, he blushed—blushed—like a lovesick schoolboy.

Takuma pretended not to notice. “Lucifer! We’re practicing jazz arrangements!”

Lucifer sauntered into the room, his jacket was missing and so was his top hat, and the glint in his red eyes was unmistakable as he approached the piano.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” he said, leaning over the top of the baby grand like a lazy jungle cat. “I love a duet.”

Takuma turned back to the keys. “We were learning a jazz piece Alastor’s mom taught him when he was my age.”

“Were you now?” Lucifer mused. His gaze drifted to Alastor, who had not moved a muscle and was clearly trying very hard to school his expression into something neutral. It wasn’t working.

“I didn’t know you were the sentimental type, Bambi,” Lucifer purred.

Alastor’s jaw clenched. “It’s educational.”

“It’s adorable,” Lucifer corrected, utterly pleased with himself. He ran his claws across Alastor’s shoulders as he walked behind the two. “You’re blushing.”

“I most certainly am not,” Alastor lied, voice tight.

“You are,” Takuma confirmed, squinting at the sheet music he was trying to copy by hand. “I’m not going to interrupt whatever this is, but don’t be too weird when I’m in the middle, that’s all I ask.”

Alastor made a sound like he was choking on static.

Lucifer snorted and circled around the piano, settling on the other side of Takuma and leaning his chin in his palm. “What’s next, Maestro? Do I get a turn?”

Takuma perked up. “You play?”

“I was the Seraphim of music, I can play all instruments.” Lucifer explained, clearly showing he’s the sin of pride. “I prefer the violin or the fiddle. Harps are a lot of fun, but I can play the piano smooth as se—AHEM.” Lucifer coughed into his hand, Takuma frowning at him and Alastor looking bemused with his almost slip in front of his mortal.

It seemed Lucifer couldn’t be both a smooth flirt and silly father.

Lucifer cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Smooth as silk. I was going to say silk.”

Takuma tilted his head, the corner of his mouth ticked up and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s what you were gonna say.”

Alastor raised a brow, lips twitching. “Indeed. I was under the impression silk didn’t purr.”

Lucifer blinked in a moment of shock. He was being teamed up against, he shot Takuma with a playful glare. “I thought you didn’t want to be involved.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Takuma rang his fingers over the keys playing something by heart. “I just didn’t think that’s what you were going for, am I wrong?”

Lucifer smirked and watched the mortal’s fingers dance over the ivory. “I’m giving you a choice to go grab us some waters and give us a minute, sound good?”

Takuma pulled away from the piano immediately and stood. “Giving you two ten minutes.” He answered and jogged out of the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as the door licked shut, Alastor shifted on the bench like it had grown thorns.

Takuma was supposed to be on his side.

Lucifer didn’t move from where he sat on the bench, he closed the lid of the piano and leaned on his elbows to look up at Alastor with dark amusement. “Well,” he said, voice low and warm, “I’ve got ten minutes, whatever shall I do?”

Alastor cleared his throat, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from his coat. “If this is about what I said—about silk—I was merely indulging your theatricality. One must, with you.”

Lucifer’s smile deepened. “You’re cute when you try to regain footing.”

“I’m not—” Alasor began, then snapped his mouth shut as he realized everything he said would be used against him, instead he busied himself with the sheet music, grabbing Takuma’s notes and fixing his mistakes.

Lucifer stood from the bench, walking slowly behind him, his claws found purchase along his shoulders as the King of Hell leaned against his back to look over his shoulder. His voice dropped an octave. “You’re flustered.”

Alastor made a strangled vague deer sound in the back of his throat. “I am not flustered. I am—” He froze as those claws found his deer ears and ran through the fur. Alastor could have swallowed his own tongue.

“Unpracticed, then?” Lucifer offered with a purr. “Uncertain? A little… shy?”

“I am centuries old, sire.” Alastor replied stiffly, trying to contain the shivers that wanted take hold of his body. “I do not get shy.”

Lucifer hummed and Alastor could feel the rumble of it against his back, the claws left his ears thankfully and migrated down. One clawed finger found his chin and made him turn to meet the King’s eyes. “You do around me.” He purred.

Alastor couldn’t look away from the King’s eyes, glittering with wicked glee and something else, something softer. Which was all the more dangerous.

Alastor’s mouth went dry. “You are insufferable.” He gasped.

“And yet,” Lucifer said, brushing a section of Alastor’s hair back so he could get a better look at him, claws barely grazing skin, “you haven’t moved away.”

Alastor felt like his whole body was vibrating with the effort to stay composed. “You’re—” His voice wavered. “You’re toying with me.”

Lucifer rang his thumb over Alastor’s bottom lip before looking into his eyes again. “No. I tease you, yes. But toy with you? No, Alastor. When I want something, I pursue it.”

The silence between them stretched as Lucifer laid against his back and played the hair in his hand, causing more shivers to run down Alastor’s spine. The claws on his face continued to play with his lip.

Alastor’s mind finally brought him some semblance of thought and he reached up to grab the hand on his face, yet he didn’t push it away. His eyes felt heavy as he said. “I don’t… know how to do this.”

Lucifer’s expression softened. “Then don’t, I’ll lead.”

Alastor turned the hand palm up and did something incredibly rash for him, he brought it to his lips, just to brush against the flesh he wanted to taste. “You’ve already been leading.”

Lucifer smiled like a cat who’d just been handed the key to the canary cage. “You can take a lick, but be warned, I get to lick something too.”

Alastor felt his face burn, but he’d wanted this for so long, at the back of his mind a faint memory of something he couldn’t quite touch brushed his conscious thoughts. Making him believe he had tasted this devil before, but he couldn’t remember what the taste was. This damned deal neither could remember was driving him as mad as the King before him.

He sighed through his parted lips and licked the open palm. Salty skin met his tongue, and beneath the faint char of brimstone was something surprisingly sweet. Apples.

Both men made aborted sounds—half moan, half shock—and Alastor was sure Lucifer was about to take what he wanted.

And Alastor… wanted to know what it would be.

The door opened and Takuma loudly announced himself. “I brought water! So much water! I even cut up a lemon, so it was nice and refreshing.” He was loud and blushed pink.

Both men leapt apart like they’d been burned. Lucifer’s arms pinwheeled as he narrowly avoided falling off the bench.

Alastor watched the King right himself and turn with a smile so innocent it had to be guilty. Both were thoroughly embarrassed and doing a terrible job hiding it.

Alastor, still half-lidded and flushed, snorted with laughter. Genuine delight bubbled up.

“My boy, you look as red as a tomato.” He teased warmly.

Takuma blushed deeper and set down the tray. “You two weren’t exactly being quiet!” he squeaked.

Lucifer blinked several times, visibly flustered, before cracking a mischievous grin and laughing. “If you’d been five more minutes, there would’ve been worse moans than that.”

“Holy shit, shut the fuck up!” Takuma squeaked, trying to push him. Lucifer didn’t budge, but it was a valiant effort.

Alastor had never seen Takuma lose his composure like that. He was pleased to see more of the child beneath the act.

And by the look Lucifer sent him—he felt the same.

Chapter Text

The days were turning into weeks now, half of his summer vacation was already over, and Takuma was having the time of his life.

Truly he couldn’t name a time when he felt so fucking happy. He can look back and have a vague memory of a temp foster home with an elderly woman named Jeanette and she was the nicest person he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting, she let him have ice cream for breakfast and helped him in his journey to learn piano. She was too old to keep him long-term and after her was his years with the Carmichaels.

Hazbin hotel was completely too much at times, and he’d slipped up enough that he needed to be on his best behavior and make sure to always be willing to help and be what was needed. But so far, he could still enjoy himself and curate the perfect person, because he genuinely enjoyed spending time with Charlie and Vaggie now that they’d backed off.

Alastor and Lucifer were always fun to be with, as long as the touching was at a minimum.

Ew.

He wouldn’t say it, because it would cause the sad eyes from everyone, but Angel Dust was really his first friend. He wasn’t someone who had to be with him because of a project, he wasn’t someone he had to impress for adoption or let him stay, and Angel liked Takuma, he said he liked how figured things out and liked to listen to him about the ocean, he loved his more silly cartoon artwork, the stuff Takuma usually tossed, and kept them.

This was the first summer in years he didn’t have to find a job to pay for the next year of running shoes for track. He has energy to read and play piano for fun instead of being too exhausted to do much other than his summer reading.

This whole thing felt like a dream come true, he’d say answered prayers, but he didn’t think God would have put him in Hell. Takuma didn’t care though, he didn’t care that everyone around him was a demon, that he spent time together with a cannibal or that the King of Hell was his guardian. He finally felt like he belonged somewhere, that even when he messed up and wasn’t perfect, they still liked him.

You still have ten weeks before your birthday, he doesn’t have to keep you until then, he can change his mind anytime. They all can.

Takuma’s chest tightened and tried to push the negative thoughts away. He wanted this to work so badly, he could taste it. Everything he ever wanted was within reach and he would not be anything less than perfect to keep this happiness.

One fuck up and its over. This always ends the same, the potential family has you around for months, you think you’ve done everything right and then they see the broken bits, the parts that aren’t normal and they send you back. Keep your shit together this time, stop freaking out where everybody can see and get through the next ten weeks.

Takuma felt his throat tighten at the voice, it was right, he couldn’t let his guard down. Whenever he let himself get too comfortable, let himself feel hope, he ruined it when his mask slipped.

No one wanted an autistic weirdo as a kid. Nobody wanted a kid that could pick you apart like an open book. It was weird, it was creepy and only good for making sure you were what the people around you wanted or needed.

If you can make the King of Hell turned off, what chance do you have with humans? It hasn’t worked out so far, people know something’s wrong with you, and they don’t want to buy something broken.

Everybody likes the innocent little kid act, so stop being a smartass and be what they want.

Takuma rubbed at his chest, dammit he needed to calm down, he was having a panic attack again. He took slow, even breaths. This would be his third panic attack since he got here and that looked bad, Lucifer was already having to baby him, he didn’t need to cause more trouble.

`

Lucifer heard Takuma’s heart kickup in speed and knew it was a panic attack. It was the rhythm underneath—the breath too fast, the pulse hammering in a too-small chest—that stopped him in his tracks.

Lucifer felt along the hotel and reappeared in the right place to find his kid.

He turned the corner slowly, careful not to startle.

Takuma stood in the empty hallway, hand on the wall and head down. His breathing was shallow, uneven. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. Too busy trying to hold himself together.

Lucifer didn’t speak right away, just came up beside him and met his far-off gaze when those bright eyes focused on him.

Takuma flinched, barely—and straightened himself up.

Lucifer moved to lean back against the wall. “You know,” he said softly, “it took me a few centuries to recognize that feeling.”

Takuma’s smile appeared and Lucifer knew he was going to brush this off, so he spoke up first.

“That pressure in your ribs. Like your lungs are too small and your thoughts are too loud. The way your heart tries to outrun your body.” Lucifer smiled faintly, eyes watching his little mortal. “Panic’s a funny thing. Makes you feel like you’re dying when really, you’re simply scared of being too alive.”

Takuma’s eyes finally met his, really looked at him this time. He shifted his weight like he wanted to run away. “I’m fine, I had it under control. It happens sometimes, I just have to get over it.”

Lucifer’s gaze was calm. “You’re not a machine. Nobody here cares if you have a tough time. Its Hell, everybody’s going through something.”

Takuma flinched and his fingers curled into a fist. “That’s not… how it goes.”

Lucifer hummed a soft tune and took off his hat to look at his snake and asked. “How does it usually go?”

He watched Takuma tense and shrink himself down. “People like it when I’m simple and naïve. Nobody likes a kid that’s got problems.”

Lucifer felt his heart sink—though he didn’t show it. Not in the usual way.

Instead, he crouched, resting his arms loosely across his knees so they were eye-level.

“Then they were fools,” he said softly.

Takuma didn’t respond. His gaze was fixed somewhere over Lucifer’s shoulder. His chest still rose and fell too fast, too shallow. The tight, quiet spiral of a panic he’d clearly learned to hide well.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Lucifer added, gentler now. “I’ve seen masks before. Worn enough of them to recognize the weight.”

Takuma’s throat bobbed. “It’s just easier if people think I’m sweet, easy, and grateful. That way they keep me longer.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Is that why you’ve been so careful around me?”

Takuma finally looked at him again, this time more warily. “It’s worked before.”

Lucifer smiled—but it didn’t reach his eyes. “And how did that end?”

Takuma said nothing.

Lucifer rose slowly, not to tower, but to offer a hand.

“I won’t say you’re wrong. I won’t lie and pretend there aren’t people who see kindness as convenience and caution as currency. But I’m not people.”

Takuma hesitated—but then, slowly, he reached out.

Lucifer pulled him in—not tightly, not overwhelmingly. Just enough to fold an arm loosely around his shoulders and let the boy rest against his coat.

“I don’t want a perfect child,” Lucifer murmured into his curls. “I want you. That kid who talks like he’s forty and throws smartass barbs better than Alastor. The one who elbows me about getting a sinner’s name right and recites ocean facts like a podcast on shuffle.”

Takuma looked at him like he was crazy, like no one had ever said that to him before.

Lucifer held him a little closer.

“That’s the boy I want. Not the mask. Not the version you think I’ll approve of. The real you.”

The mortal frowned and Lucifer could see the wheels turning in his mind, wondering if this was a trap.

“I’ll… take it under advisement.”

Lucifer chuckled and pulled his top hat and crown off of his head to put it on Takuma’s. Lucifer eased back and rested his hands on Takuma’s shoulders, grinning as the hat fell over the mortal’s eyes and little hands reached to push it up. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Takuma blinked up at him from under the brim. “Where?”

Lucifer’s grin turned sly. “To the solarium.”

Before Takuma could pipe up, Lucifer had them appear in the room, the day was overcast outside. Lucifer had made sure the glass was acid proof when he’d seen it on the forecast.

Lucifer had one of the metal table’s setup for tea and had his mortal sit down, oversized hat pushed back so he could see. Lucifer smirked and immediately had his phone out and took a picture, Takuma did that thing where he scrunched his face when he hated something. Lucifer laughed and snapped another picture.

Once he had a row of good pictures, he sat down and snapped his fingers, and a violin case appeared on the table between them.

Takuma leaned over curiously. “It has someone else’s name on it.” He commented.

Lucifer smirked and opened the case, pulling the old and well-maintained violin out. “I won it off a mortal composer two centuries ago. He lost a bet with me, it was either his soul or his most prized possession.”

Takuma blinked and raised a brow. “Did he cry?”

Lucifer’s smirk widened. “Loudly.”

Lucifer adjusted himself and brought the bow to the strings, the sound sharp and lovely, resonating in the glass chamber.

The big eyes behind his glasses made the King chuckle and he turned the violin over in his hands and offered it to the boy. “Wanna try?”

Takuma winced and pulled back. “I don’t know how to play, I’ll sound awful.”

Lucifer shrugged. “Practice makes perfect, as they say.”

The mortal shot him a look. “Says the guy that doesn’t have to practice.”

Lucifer chuckled and stood up from the table to come around to his side. “Who better to teach you than the guy who’s played since the beginning of time, huh?”

The King helped Takuma adjust the instrument, stepping behind to adjust his posture, his grip, guiding his arms with practiced gentleness.

Lucifer grinned. “Elegant posture.”

Takuma set the bow to the strings—and produced a sound that could best be described as a car accident on ice.

Lucifer nodded solemnly. “A flawless screech. I’m proud.”

Takuma groaned. “Kill me.”

“You’re in Hell. That was part of the welcome package.”

But even as he joked, Lucifer watched the boy with something tight in his chest. Because for all the awkwardness and nerves, Takuma was still trying.

Still choosing to try.

Still hoping—despite everything.

Lucifer looked at him and thought, Help the world if anyone tries to take this from me.

But he didn’t say that.

Instead, he said, “Come on, little inferno. Let’s see if we can make it sound like music.”

Lucifer took his time, gentle claws correcting and adjusting as Takuma did his best to make one decent pass over the strings. Every sound squeaked like a banshee shriek, but the boy kept trying, jaw set, brows furrowed in focus. Lucifer smiled with quiet pride the entire time.

Finally, with a groan, Takuma slumped forward and carefully set the violin and bow down. “Okay, I give up. I feel like my shoulder’s about to slide off.”

Lucifer chuckled, letting his hand glide down the boy’s aching shoulder, warmth blooming beneath his claws. He laced a bit of healing magic into the motion, subtle and unobtrusive. “You did great. I’ve heard worse—believe me.”

He flicked his wrist, and the instrument vanished, already waiting for Takuma in his room, tucked into its new stand. The kid would find it later.

Takuma smiled and reached for his lukewarm tea, but Lucifer waved a clawed hand and fresh steam curled from the top of the cup.

“Violin was something I always wanted to learn,” Takuma said, lifting a tiny sandwich from the tray, “but there was no way I could afford one. Or classes.”

Lucifer took his seat again, one leg crossed over the other as he sipped his own tea. “How did you afford piano, then?

Takuma chewed for a second, then sipped before he answered. “Mostly through school. Sometimes in the summer there were pianos in public spaces. Like at the library or community centers. I hated playing in front of people, but… it was the only way I could practice.”

Lucifer quirked a brow. “For someone who has a mass of trophies and ribbons from competitions, you seem to really hate attention.”

Takuma shrugged, licking mustard off his thumb. “I look better on paper. People like a kid with something they can show off.”

Lucifer’s smile faded slightly. “The things you’ve learned… were any of them just because you liked them?”

Takuma paused in reaching for his third sandwich. The look on his face was hard to read—somewhere between confusion and quiet frustration.

“I mean… I like drawing. Piano can be fun when it’s a song I actually enjoy. Running clears my head.” He frowned. “I don’t know. I guess I liked doing them.”

Lucifer leaned forward, voice gentler now. “But did you do them because they were fun? Or because they were useful?”

The boy blinked at him, and something behind his glasses went tight. He answered with quiet honesty:

“I didn’t have time to have fun. I was trying to get a mom and dad.”

Lucifer felt something sharp twist in his chest.

He tried again. “What about friends?”

Takuma let out a short laugh. “Yeah, sure. I’m friend material.”

“You are,” Lucifer said instantly, more firmly. “You’re a great kid.

Takuma sat back, sandwich still in hand, but he only picked at it now. “I’m weird, Lucifer. I’m too intense. Too much. The joke was whether I’d be the kid who’d off himself or someone else.” His voice stayed casual, but the words hit like lead. “Spoiler alert—it was the latter, if you remember.”

Lucifer didn’t speak for a moment.

Rage, quiet and simmering, started low in his gut. He wanted to protect, to fix, to smite—but what could he do here? Go haunt a bunch of middle schoolers? Terrorize some bitter foster parents? It wouldn't change the years already carved into the boy’s bones.

Instead, he forced his voice to be steady. “Once you're officially a Morningstar, I’ll make sure you're in the right circles. The Goetia aren't my favorite crowd, but they’d pluck their own feathers just to be seen with you.”

Takuma didn’t respond right away. The look he gave Lucifer was unreadable—carefully blank.

Lucifer’s smile faltered again.

He’d thought the kid was an easy read—open, charming, full of dry wit and cutting perception. But the more time they spent together, the more Lucifer realized just how practiced those layers were. Takuma hid things behind his cleverness. Just like Alastor.

Lucifer sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyes trained on the kid across from him.

“You don’t have to have a bunch of ribbons to impress me,” he said, quiet and firm.

Takuma flinched.

Lucifer didn’t press. Just sat on the other side of the little table and let the silence linger, letting the statement settle into the space between them like steam off tea.

Takuma stared at his cup, turning it in his hands. “What does… impress you?” he asked, voice just above a whisper.

Lucifer raised his brows, surprised by the question. He looked up, met those intense blue eyes, and for a moment—he saw through every layer of mask and curated performance. Saw the boy, wide open, waiting to be judged.

“Met a kid who summoned me at twelve years old,” Lucifer said finally. “That was pretty fucking impressive.”

Takuma blinked—then let out a startled laugh. “Yeah… that was pretty impressive of me.” He smirked faintly, some of the weight easing off his shoulders.

Lucifer leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “And not just one pentagram—two. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that. By the way, don’t ever do that again. That was way too much blood loss. I’m still mad about it.”

“I researched,” Takuma argued, mock-defensive. “The second one was backup in case the first didn’t work.”

“You made two whole summoning circles like they were IKEA furniture,” Lucifer deadpanned. “I showed up thinking somebody killed a whole person.”

“I was desperate.”

Lucifer’s voice dropped, all teasing gone. “I know.”

A beat passed.

Then, with the quiet rustle of a portal pulling closed, Alastor appeared behind Takuma, his smile calm and pleasantly sharp.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice smooth as radio static. “Are we retelling the summoning story again? Should I fetch the popcorn?”

Takuma jumped a little and almost spelt his tea. “How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough to hear that blood loss was involved. How scandalous,” Alastor teased. His eyes flicked to Lucifer, searching to see if everything was alright.

Lucifer just shrugged and sipped his tea.

Alastor’s eyes softened, just slightly and pulled a chair over to sit right next to Takuma. “You look better now, dear.” He summoned himself a fresh cup of coffee and crossed his leg over the other. “I take it your heart is no longer trying to escape through your rib cage?”

Takuma scowled lightly at his tea. “I was managing it.”

Lucifer gave him a patient smile. “By hyperventilating in an empty hallway?”

Alastor hummed in agreement. “An impressive tactic. Perhaps next time try screaming into a pillow. Very cathartic I hear.”

Takuma rolled his eyes. “Wow so helpful.”

“Ah,” Alastor said, pleased and reached up to pull the hat still on Takuma’s head off. “There he is.”

Lucifer raised his cup in mock salute. “My favorite version.”

Takuma stuffed another sandwich into his mouth and reached to pour himself another cup of tea. Alastor just waved his hand and the cup was refilled.

“I can actually use normal means to do things.” Takuma commented.

“How boring when you have me around.” Alastor replied and put the hat on his knee.

Takuma grinned, just a little, as Alastor settled beside him like he’d always been there.

It felt easy again—just like that.

Lucifer watched them both, his chest tight with something he didn’t quite have a name for. Not yet. But it was there, thrumming just beneath his ribs.

Ten more weeks and this would be all his.

Chapter Text

The lounge was quiet at midnight—quiet in the way only Hell could manage, like something lurking just beneath the stillness. Husk sat at the bar nursing a glass that had been full an hour ago, the empty bottle beside him long forgotten. The cat demon wasn’t drunk, that was a big part of his curse, he loved the bottle a bit too much in his mortal life. He could barely ever get a buzz, plus his ability to be a good gambler but always makes the worst bet when it comes down to the wire.

He was waiting for Angel Dust to come back from work. After being abused for twelve hours a day, the spider always needed an ear and a hard drink so Husk figured he might as well be up for it.

His ear swiveled to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, he wasn’t expecting company from any of the others tonight.

Then a scent that was starting to become familiar hit his nose—jasmine and bright citrus—and the sound of socked feet hitting the carpet floor of the lounge.

Takuma came into view, in pajamas the King must’ve conjured up, since they were satin and expensive looking. Despite hearing him coming down the steps, the mortal’s steps were now feather light, he’d would have never known he was there otherwise.

Husk grunted, more surprised than anything.

The kid’s head snapped towards him. “Oh. Sorry—I didn’t think anyone would be down here.” He whispered.

“You live in a hotel run by chaos incarnate, “ Husk muttered. “There’s always someone down here.”

Takuma’s mouth quirked up in a tired smile as he came over. He came around as quiet as a mouse, dipping down into the mini fridge where Charlie had stocked it with juice boxes for him. He pulled one out and shut the fridge without a sound, moving with the kind of quiet precision of a kid who’d learned to stay small in someone else’s house.

Husk watched him puncture the hole and take a sip of his drink, and a part of him softened and before he could stop himself, he asked. “Are you hungry, kid?”

Takuma startled a little and looked up at him. “Uh… kinda, I just didn’t want to wake anyone.”

Husk jerked his head towards the back, where the staff kitchen was. “C’mon, I’ll fix you something.”

He didn’t give the mortal time to refuse, just herded him out of the bar area and towards the kitchen.

Husk flicked the light on and went to the fridge for something simple. He wasn’t a chef, but he could make a couple of fried eggs and toast. He heard a chair scoot out and Takuma take a seat, waiting patiently.

The quiet stayed for a bit, only broken by Husk putting toast in the toaster and eggs in a buttered pan to sizzle.

“I thought you didn’t like me.” Takuma murmured from his seat, chewing on his straw.

Husk snorted as he jerked the pan to make sure the egg didn’t stick. “I don’t dislike you.”

“You avoid me.”

“I avoid everyone.”

Takuma hummed and didn’t let up. “But more me than others.”

Husk’s shoulders stiffened as he pulled out a spatula to flip the eggs. “Listen, the princess and her girlfriend may be blind, but the boss is obsessed with you clear as day. I don’t fuck with something he’s claimed as his.”

Takuma frowned and he pulled his legs under himself to sit crossed legged. “Does he… own your soul?”

 Husk didn’t flinch at the question, he’d accepted his lot a long time ago. “Yup. And I know how that bastard is about something he sees as his.”

“I know he’s… weird about me.”

“That’s one word for it.” Husk muttered as he plated the eggs and grabbed the toast to butter it.

Takuma watched him for a moment before he asked. “Do you think he’ll hurt me?”

This question did make Husk pause, because it wasn’t said with fear. Fear would be the smart emotion when associated with a question about Alastor. No, Takuma was more curious than scared, he wanted Husk’s opinion as someone who’d known him longer, who had a better idea of the Radio Demon’s moods and whims.

Husk finished buttering the toast and put it on the plate, he grabbed the hot sauce he’d seen the kid drown his food in and came over to place it all in front of the child. He took a seat opposite Takuma and watched him dig in.

“I don’t think he could, even if he wanted to.” He lauded.

Takuma paused and looked up at him with too knowing eyes and they stared at each other for a long moment, assessing what the other knew, and both concluded the knowledge was mutual.

Husk watched Takuma eat and spoke up. “I don’t think you’ll ever be rid of him now. Once the boss decides he wants something, he’ll find any way to have it. He’s not one to take a no well, unless it’s a woman with boundaries.”

Takuma nodded as he finished his toast. “Yeah, I gathered the killer but not a rapist route pretty early on.”

Husk smirked and wished he’d brought his drink with him. “You’re alright, kid. Just… you make him different. And that makes me nervous.”

Takuma smiled faintly, a little sad at the edges. “I’ve never had anyone treat me like he treats me. So, I think you’re justified in being nervous, because I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about the attention too.”

Husk gave a dark chuckle. “Yeah, you two are a match made in Hell for sure.”

When Takuma went to stand to put his dish away, Husk scooped it up and did it for him.

And for a while, they just sat there in the half-light—two weary souls with more baggage than sleep. It wasn’t friendship. Not yet.

Then the lights flickered. The change was subtle at first, just a dimming, something that happened in the old hotel, enough not to rouse suspicion. But Husk wasn’t an idiot, his ears twitched at the whispers in the shadows.

“Uh oh.” He grumbled.

A ripple of static buzzed through the air, the radio on the far wall cracking to life with a brief burst of static before going dead again.

Takuma raised a brow and sipped the last of his juice, watching as a rush of shadows curled around his chair before the darkness stood tall behind him and Alastor materialized holding onto the chair and looking menacing.

Husk’s ears flattened against his skull, the feeling of static making his teeth hurt.

Alastor didn’t even glance at him.

“Takuma,” he said, voice smooth and unusually sharp with worry. “Your wards were disturbed.”

Takuma blinked and remembered Lucifer had put that seal on his door, which probably connected to Alastor’s wards by extension. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

Alastor appeared at his side in a blink, crouching beside the chair with his eyes narrowed and scanning him from head to toe.

“That makes the third time this week, my dear boy. You’re becoming quite the midnight socialite.”

Takuma frowned and chewed on his straw again. “I just… had a little nightmare. I didn’t want to wake anyone, I just came down for something to drink and grab a snack.”

Alastor reached out and gently grabbed the boy’s chin, making him look at him. “Next time, you come to me, is that understood?”

Takuma’s brows raised. “I don’t want to bother you with something stupid like this.”

“A bother? My dear, if your presence were a nuisance, I’d have made myself scarce long ago—and we both know I’d rather haunt you than leave you alone in this state.” Alastor said at once, tone fierce in a way Husk had never heard from him. “If something is wrong, you come to me. I don’t care if it’s midnight or midday.”

Takuma was stunned by his vehemence tone and seemed to notice the way he held himself tightly, the way his shadow was agitated.

“Oh… I will, I promise.” He assured and reached out to Alastor, who immediately picked up the preteen as though he weighed nothing and cradled him like a toddler.

Alastor stood and fixed his jacket with his free hand and turned slightly toward Husk—finally acknowledging he was there.

“Thank you for keeping him company.”

Husk almost fell out of his chair, a thank you out of Alastor?!

“Uh, sure, no problem boss.”

Alastor turned away and strolled out of the kitchen with his bundle, his shadows receding as he went.

The kitchen went quiet again, just the sound of metal settling. Husk stared after the two, eyes wide at what he’d just witnessed.

“The fuck was that?” he murmured and pushed himself up from the chair.

The cat demon left the kitchen and went back to the bar, grabbed his drink, and downed it. The problem here, he knew what that was, that was someone like Alastor who now had an open weakness. The Radio Demon who never even had a headquarters and did what he wanted, when he wanted to. A man made demon who enjoyed his mayhem and time in hell because he could torment others with outright glee instead of having to hide his darkness from the world.

Alastor was a nasty piece of shit, but all Overlords were, men and women who clamored for power even in this shithole, they thought they had something when they owned all these souls. Husk knew better now, after losing it all, Overlords were short-sighted, power-hungry souls who would always get their season of torment in this place. It’s just how Hell worked, no one kept their seat of power, except the King himself.

The Radio Demon was already in his season of torment, and it came in the form of a little boy who was starting to look at him with love and understanding. That was more dangerous than anything Alastor had faced yet.

Husk just hoped it wouldn’t hurt the kid in the end, he didn’t deserve Alastor’s punishment.

The cat demon sighed, shoulders slumped and grabbed a cold beer.

Fuck, he liked the kid, he’d have to watch out for him now, because Alastor didn’t know what he was doing and at some point, his narcissism was going to hurt that boy. It was only a matter of time.

Takuma woke up slowly.

It was the kind of morning where everything felt warm and still, like the sun had yet to fully rise. It’d taken him a long time to get used to the red sun, not something golden and warm. His room wasn’t red though, Charlie had paint every inch in blue paint and covered every wall with whales, sea turtles and dolphins. He was in his bed and the blanket wrapped around him was heavy and soft.

He blinked blearily and rubbed his face into the warmth he was smushed against and sighed in contentment.

It took his brain a moment, as it always did when he was forcing himself to be awake, to realize the warmth was a chest under his cheek.

Not just any chest, one with soft fluff under soft satin night shirt, the faint scent of coffee, blood and something earthy like decaying of plants and old paper.

Alastor?

Takuma tilted his head groggily and realized he was half-curled in Alastor’s arms, pulled close to his chest in his own bed. Claws without gloves curled over his shoulders and one in his curls.

Alastor had tucked him into his bed last night when he’d escorted him back, Takuma hadn’t said anything other than goodnight and the Radio Demon had bid him night before disappearing into his shadows. Takuma tried to remember if he’d done something to get a cannibal to cuddle him.

He turned his head to look around and met a pair of glowing red eyes and a smug smile.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Lucifer whispered, chin propped up on the armchair he sat in, something he had to have conjured up because it wasn’t in Takuma’s room before. He looked entirely too comfortable lounging there, as if this was a routine occurrence.

Takuma blinked slowly at him, brain still catching up.

“… Why’re you here?” he slurred, voice thick with sleep, and honestly, he just wanted to curl back into the warmth of the demon still wrapped around him.

What am I, fucking five?

Lucifer’s grin was wide and warm. “I came in and found the two of you looking far too precious for me to disturb. How shitty that the Radio Demon doesn’t let pictures be taken.”

“This face was made for radio.” Alastor mumbled without opening his eyes.

Lucifer actually pouted. “He’s not going to be small forever, we’re going to want pictures of this time.”

Alastor just hummed in disagreement, Takuma thought he’d pull away now that they were caught—in what he wasn’t sure, but this had to be embarrassing for someone like Alastor—but he just yawned and stretched before pulling Takuma back into his warmth and tucked the blanket around his back.

“If you’re quite done, sire, its summer vacation and we’re supposed to allow him his beauty sleep.” Alastor murmured.

Takuma took a big breath, and his eyes drooped a little, uncertain if this was what he was allowed to do but did so anyways, he reached out and wrapped his arms around Alastor’s chest and relaxed into his hold.

“See? This is fucking adorable, and I can’t get pictures!”

Takuma couldn’t see their faces, but he imagined Alastor cracked a red eye open to glare at Lucifer. The silence said they were having a battle of wits. He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, because he’d dozed off slightly as claws gently scrapped at his scalp in a way that made him boneless and warm.

Was he a fucking dog?

“Very well, take your pictures, they are not to be shared.” Alastor consented.

There was movement and rustling from above, the sound of a phone taking multiple pictures from different angles and Lucifer cooing and awing. It was enough for Takuma to blink himself awake again and have a phone camera pointed at his face with a huge, pointed teeth grin behind it.

“That’s quite enough.” Alastor growled and Takuma had his head covered by an arm as Alastor curled more around him.

“Aww, let me join! I promise, I’ll be good.” Lucifer whispered.

Takuma felt Alastor stiffen, and he wondered if this was the end of it now.

“That’s not being good.” He hissed, sounding flustered.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be good now. Sorry really, your ears are just so soft.”

Takuma couldn’t hold back a sleepy chuckle and a moment later the blanket was untucked to allow Lucifer to cuddle close and wrap an arm around his middle, his chin on top of his head. Alastor grumbled at having his claws dislodged from curls, but they must have found a home somewhere else if Lucifer’s sigh was anything to go by.

Was this normal?

Did twelve year olds get to cuddle with their parents?

Was it too hopeful to call them parents? He still wasn’t adopted yet, everything was up in the air.

His mind whirled with these thoughts, but then Lucifer started humming a lullaby, something soft and unknown. Takuma’s mind latched onto the sound and turned fuzzy at the edges, until nothing else could pop up. He sighed and fell into the sound, the warmth, the protective weight around him and soon he fell asleep.

Lucifer waited until Takuma’s breathing evened out.

His hummed trailed into silence, and the only sounds that remained were the low crackle of the radio waves that came off of Alastor and the slow steady rhythm of Takuma’s breaths. His arms snugly wrapped around Alastor and cheek smushed against his chest again. He didn’t stir, even as Alastor shifted slightly to stretch out one long leg over the edge of the bed.

Lucifer didn’t move and the claw in his hair lazily petted through the golden strands. Lucifer absently wondered if this was payback for all his magical touches or if Alastor was just getting used to showing affection this way.

“He’s really out this time.” He murmured.

Alastor adjusts the arm wrapped around Takuma’s shoulders and gave a soft, staticky hum in agreement. “He didn’t even notice when I crawled into the bed with him last night."

Lucifer huffed a quiet laugh and rested his chin back on top of the dark curls. “He’s getting better at relaxing.”

Alastor’s gaze was distant, gently pulling knots free in Lucifer’s hair. “That seems to be part of the problem.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed and he looked up at the other man. “You think it’s bad that he’s letting his guard down?”

“I think,” Alastor said quietly, “his nightmares have been getting worse. Naturally, I anticipated he might need me again,” Alastor said, voice smooth and unhurried.

 “So, I left my shadow to keep him company. When his distress deepened, it tugged at me—like a thread pulled taut.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost fond. “Loyal little thing practically dragged me from bed.”

Lucifer’s throat tightened. “Did he say what it was about the first time?”

“No,” Alastor replied, voice low and even. “Only that it was ‘stupid’. He waved it off and tried to convince me he was fine. I was in bed for maybe an hour before he needed me again, so I stayed.”

Lucifer’s arm tightened around Takuma’s waist, head resting against Alastor’s arm as he stared off in thought. “It makes sense,” he said softly. “The safer he feels, the more the dam leaks. He’s not bottling it out of fear anymore… but now it’s flooding through the cracks.”

“His subconscious is trying to process what his conscious self won’t allow.” Alastor added.

“He’s just a kid,” Lucifer whispered, frustration creeping into the edges of his voice. “A kid who thinks he has to earn love like a paycheck.”

Alastor’s hand left golden hair to splay his hand against Lucifer’s shoulder blades in comfort. “He’s not used to this.”

Lucifer exhaled sharply through his nose. “Neither are we.”

A pause in the quiet, a long moment of thoughts racing.

Then Lucifer asked, almost reluctantly, “Does he always call out?”

Alastor sighed and met his eyes with clear frustration. “This is the first time I’ve caught this. He didn’t come to me before with any of these incidents, I had to come find him. When I came last night, he was crying for help, begging for someone.”

Lucifer closed his eyes. “He’s afraid we’ll leave him.”

“He’s very nearly convinced of it, I’m afraid to say.”

Silence fell between them again, heavy with truth neither wanted to say aloud.

Lucifer moved to kiss the top of Takuma’s head. “It’s going to be a long road to healing.” He warned.

Alastor shrugged and nestled down around them, his bigger frame engulfing them. “I have an eternity and so do you, we’ll figure it out.”

Lucifer smiled and looked up at the other man. “Yes, we will.” He purred.

Alastor looked down his nose at him, unimpressed. “Go to sleep, sire.”

Lucifer didn’t argue. He just sighed, long and low, and let himself fully relax.

The tension that had coiled into his spine finally unspooled, and the warm weight of Takuma in his arms felt less like a burden and more like purpose.

When he looked up, Alastor’s eyes were already closed, lashes brushing against pale cheeks, his smile slack in the faintest hint of exhaustion.

Lucifer blinked, watching him for a moment. In the stillness, without his grin, without the shadows curling like barbed wire, Alastor looked younger. Softer. Almost… peaceful.

And then the Radio Demon’s voice broke the quiet, low and laced with amusement.

“You’re staring again.”

Lucifer smirked, unfazed. “You’re cuter when you’re not plotting murder.”

“I am plotting murder,” Alastor said primly, “just… quietly.”

That earned a breathy chuckle from the King of Hell, who finally let his head rest beneath Alastor’s chin once more.

Takuma let out a sleepy noise between them, squirming faintly and then settling again. He didn’t wake—just tucked in tighter.

The room felt full of unspoken promises.

Alastor pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Takuma’s head before resting his chin on top of Lucifer’s.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmured, “For a creature forged in blood and static, I daresay I’m adapting rather splendidly to this whole… nurturing business.”

Lucifer gave a soft, proud hum. “He’s still alive.”

They lapsed into quiet laughter that never rose above a whisper.

Then Lucifer let out a final, tired sigh. “He’s going to be the death of us.”

Alastor’s grin returned. “I’ve already died once. It’s highly overrated.”

Lucifer’s lips curled into something warmer, and his eyes finally drifted shut. “Then let’s give him something better than death.”

And with that, the three of them fell into true stillness. Held tight in the glow of Takuma’s ocean decorations and soft static, wrapped in warmth and shadows and the quiet certainty of belonging—at least for tonight.

Chapter Text

The art room was quiet, lit by the soft, flickering glow of Hell’s red sun through tall windows. Charlie hadn’t even known they had an art room until Alastor cleaned it up and filled it with supplies, conveniently ready for their mortal guest.

The princess maintained her suspicion, believing that there could be good in every soul in Hell. She thought that treating Alastor as a villain around Takuma would be hypocritical. Alastor may not believe a soul could change and find their redemption, but Charlie did. Having Takuma around was proof enough souls had compassion, she’d watched Angel stick up for Takuma, Husk sneak him juice boxes, Pen have his Egg Boys make Takuma laugh and even Niffty had dubbed him ‘the ultimate good boy’ and tried to put a tiny roach tiara on his head—much to his horror.

This art room was proof Alastor had a heart.

Charlie walked over to the windows and pushed a few open to let some air in. Hell was hot and dry most days, the sulfur could be too much sometimes in the Pride ring, but fresh air was still good for you!

Takuma was engrossed in his painting, he’d been working on it since the art room was cleaned up. The wingback chair in the corner with the table and lamp she assumed was her dad’s doing. The mortal was drawing something from their trip in Japan, by memory and some books with pictures of other shrines to get the architecture right. He said he wanted something with the autumn leaves instead of the late spring they’d seen, so the painting was full of beautiful oranges and red with rich browns.

One thing she noticed was at the base of the bridge leading to the shrine, was a sketch of people who hadn’t been drawn in yet. She noticed that they took the same of herself, Vaggie, Dad and Takuma.

… And a suspiciously taller figure behind what she assumed was Takuma.

When she’d been looking a little too closely, Takuma had side eyed her, holding his breath. Like he wanted her to ask about it but wouldn’t say anything if she didn’t.

Charlie had let it go for now, this wasn’t what she wanted to talk about right now anyways.

She also didn’t notice Takuma glaring at her back in frustration, making hand motions of grabbing her and shaking her.

“So!” She started off and turned back around with a sketch book of her own, Takuma the picture of sunshine and smiles, “I thought we’d bond over art, you’re amazing at this. Maybe some of your talent will rub off of on.” She teased.

Takuma gave her a funny look. “I’m not talented in the least.”

Charlie stopped short, look at his painting and back at him, “Takuma, no need to be humble. This is amazing, it looks so real, and you’re not even finished yet.”

Takuma made that face where his face scrunched up and said, “This isn’t talent, its just a lot of practice and studying. I’m not being humble, I’m being honest.”

The princess mentally checked off a box in her head; does not believe he’s talented, research how to instill confidence.

Charlie moved on from this topic easily, as Takuma was always willing to change the subject from himself.

“I love to draw, I didn’t get dad’s talent for creating, but I still really enjoy it!” she went on.

Takuma nodded along. “You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it.”

You say that to me, yet won’t apply the same thing to yourself? Interesting.

“Well, I want to draw something that brings me joy, so I was going to draw all of us here at the hotel!” Charlie explained and sat at one of the desks that had the stand for her sketchbook, so she wasn’t leaning over. She turned on the lamp and got to work.

“Sounds good.” Takuma replied, his tone distracted as he went back to his paints.

She didn’t try to push the compliment again, but the fact he truly believed he wasn’t talented made something in her ache. Charlie chewed the end of her pencil, sketching out a rough idea of Angel lounging upside down on the hotel couch, one leg kicked over the back. It was messy, but fun.

She glanced over at him after a few minutes of quiet work.

“Hey, Takuma?”

“Hm?”

She hesitated, then continued lightly, “Do you remember the first thing you ever drew?”

That got a pause. His brush stopped moving mid-stroke. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “It was a little house with a tree next to it. I think I was… four?”

Charlie smiled softly. “Did someone teach you, or…?”

“No. I just wanted to draw something that looked like home. I think I copied it off a picture in a book.”

“That’s so sweet,” she said gently. “Was it… your home at the time?”

Takuma’s lips pulled into a half-smile, eyes still on the canvas. “Nah. It was what I wanted home to look like. The place I was in had peeling paint and a broken porch step. The tree in the yard was half-dead.”

Charlie’s heart ached again, but she kept her voice steady. “How many places did you live in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He wiped his brush clean on a rag. “Four foster homes. One group home. And before that, my mom.”

She blinked. “Your mom gave you up when you were four, right?”

Takuma gave a soft, humorless chuckle. “Yeah. I found out later I was an affair baby. She tried to pass me off as her husband’s kid, but when I got older, I guess my face made that harder.”

Charlie didn’t know what to say at first. “That must’ve been… hard.”

“There wasn’t much love lost there,” he said with a shrug, reaching for a deeper orange. “She never wanted me. I think I reminded her of her mistake. She blamed me for everything wrong in her life.”

Charlie set her pencil down. “Takuma…”

He looked up at her, his expression unreadable but not closed off. Just tired.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she said gently, “but I’m really honored that you trust me enough to share this. I know this stuff isn’t easy.”

Takuma shrugged again. “I used to draw families. Moms and dads. I’d give the pictures to the people who came to see me. Thought maybe if I drew them nice enough, they’d want to keep me.”

Charlie’s eyes welled up, but she blinked fast and reached for her pencil again, keeping her voice steady. “That’s… honestly, one of the most heartbreaking and beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

“They didn’t keep them,” Takuma said plainly. “Most didn’t even look.”

She didn’t speak. She knew if she did, her voice would crack.

“Anyways, I started trying harder after that. Better paper. Cleaner lines. Studied lighting. I made sure the hands were right—people like that, I noticed. But I guess by then, I’d aged out of being cute.”

Charlie finally managed a whisper. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Takuma didn’t answer. His hand moved with perfect precision, but his shoulders were tense. “I had an art teacher suggest I put my pieces in competitions. I thought a few blue ribbons wouldn’t hurt.”

Charlie swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I bet you won every blue ribbon.”

Takuma shook his head, pulling out a paint brush with thin bristles. “I had like, five blue ribbons and the rest were 2^nd and 3^rd place.”

Charlie grinned. “Oh, that’s impressive!”

Takuma shrugged but didn’t reply, like it didn’t really matter to him.

Charlie tried to keep her smile for him. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“Do you remember anything good from before? A happy memory, even a small one?”

Takuma was quiet for a long moment. Then: “My biological grandmother. She smelled like cinnamon and garden dirt. She used to brush my hair when I was little and say I had the prettiest curls. I think… I think she loved me. But I don’t remember much else.”

Charlie let out a slow breath and nodded. “That’s a good one.”

Takuma offered a small smile, and it felt more real than any smile she’d seen from him all day.

“Thank you for telling me, Takuma,” Charlie said gently, “and for sharing this with me. I want you to know… I’m so happy you’re going to be a part of my family.”

Takuma’s eyes cut to her in a way she’d not seen before, his blue eyes unreadable. With the knowledge she had now, she wondered how many times he’d heard someone say that to him, how many times someone got his hopes up and then he just ended up back at square one.

The thought made that lump in her throat threaten to choke her. So, she stood and walked over to him, Takuma’s brows pulling together in confusion now, the strange look gone and replaced by bright innocence.

Charlie reached out gently and cupped his face, brushing her thumb over his freckles. “Takuma,” she started, her tone loving and gentle, the boy sucked in a breath and looked up at her, “I want you to know, no matter what happens, I will always be your sister. I know life has been so scary for you, and so unfair—” she had to stop and swallow, blinking rapidly to not let her tears spill, that wasn’t fair to Takuma, “—So cruel to you, but I don’t care what happens between you and Dad, what comes of everything. I will always be your big sister, and I’ll always love you.”

Takuma eyes were so big, the blue in them reminded her of the skies in Heaven. So bright and deep, and right now she watched as his face crumbled for the first time she’d ever seen, tears streaked down his face, and he looked panicked and dropped his brushes to wipe at his face quickly.

“S-sorry, I don’t kn-know why I’m—just give m-me a second and I’ll st-stop—” he spoke quickly trying to pull away and push his glass up to try and hide his tears, his voice stuttering and hiccuping.

Charlie felt her tears fall as well and lunged forward and hugged Takuma to her chest. “It’s okay to cry, I think you deserve to cry. You’ve been so brave, TK. You’re such a brave person, I’m proud of you. Crying doesn’t make you weak, it means you’re so very strong, only strong people can let themselves feel like this.”

Takuma was frozen in her arms, his own shaking. She heard him drag in a wet breath and his arms slowly wrapped around her too. He didn’t really loosen up, but he cried, and he cried. He never made a sound, but his whole body shook, and her shirt was damp where he hid his face and his tears.

“I love you so much, baby brother.” She whispered and sniffled, rubbing his back in a soothing circle.

Takuma kept sucking in air like he was drowning, he never let her go and still never made a sound other than his hiccuping breaths.

They stayed like that for a long time, Charlie never moved, scared she would break the moment.

Eventually, Takuma’s grip loosened.

He didn’t pull away completely, just rested against her now, his head tucked into the curve of her shoulder as the worst of it passed. His face was still damp, but his breathing had started to slow, evening out into soft, shuddering sighs.

Charlie didn’t rush him.

She kept one hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles, the other in his curls like she imagined his grandmother used to do. She held him like her mother would hold her when she was scared as a kid—safe, steady, unshakable.

When he finally spoke again, it was barely a whisper.

“…I didn’t think you’d mean it.”

Charlie pressed her cheek to the top of his head. “I know,” she said softly. “But I did. I do.”

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the soft rustle of the wind through the open window and the quiet drip of paint water still clinging to Takuma’s brush, forgotten on the edge of the easel.

Then, in a small voice:
“…Okay.”

Charlie smiled against his hair, heart full and aching all at once.

“Want to finish painting for a bit?” she offered gently.

Takuma nodded into her shoulder. “Yeah… I think I do.”

Charlie loosened her hold and helped him sit back, watching as he rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffled once more. She didn’t comment when he scooted just a little closer to her seat this time, or when he quietly picked up a smaller brush and went back to work with newfound calm in his hands.

The shrine on the canvas began to take shape again—vibrant and warm, with falling leaves and golden light dancing across the bridge.

This time, when he started painting the people on it, he didn’t hesitate to draw the tallest figure first.

Charlie watched, her chest tight but full, as Takuma added his version of Alastor, looming behind them like a quiet guardian.

“Nice touch,” she said gently.

Takuma just gave a tiny smile, brushing copper into the folds of the coat.

They stayed like that for the rest of the hour—working side by side, silent and steady. And though the art room didn’t have much in the way of comfort, in that moment, it felt more like home than any grand throne room or gilded estate could offer.

Not because of the walls or the supplies.

But because of the people in it.

And the love that, finally, didn’t feel like it was waiting to disappear.

Chapter Text

As the days passed and summer waned, Takuma tried to soak up every last warm moment at the hotel. He knew time was ticking—felt it in the way Charlie kept hugging him a little longer, the way Lucifer’s jokes landed with tired smiles, not laughter. Even Alastor, ever theatrical, had quiet spells where he simply watched him paint. No one said it aloud, but something was coming. He could feel the tension in the air about the hotel and something about Heaven. No one would tell him what was going on though, especially not Charlie and Lucifer, who were at odds again.

He’d find them places they thought no one—read Takuma—would find them and well, not really arguing. He’d never seen Lucifer raise his voice against Charlie even if he was frustrated or done with her pushing whatever pressing issue the hotel was dealing with.

Charlie didn’t like to argue at all, she said if you couldn’t say your “piece in peace” then it was better to walk away and come back with a clearer mind.

But they were arguing, despite what they said when Takuma found them, despite their words that everything was alright, it wasn’t. He pressed too, feeling embolden since his talk with Charlie all those weeks ago, reminding them if he didn’t hear it from them, he’d just figure it out on his own.

Charlie and Lucifer always just smiled and either his curls were mussed, or his face was kissed, and the subject was changed as they discussed maybe going on another vacation when his birthday came around.

The tension remained though.

Alastor—and sorry if this surprises you because it shouldn’t—never gave a straight answer. It was always ‘ah just a princess and king with a silly tiff, nothing for a future prince to worry about’.

Takuma was always thrown off when the prince talk came up, because that never really felt right. His adoption still felt unreal and adding in a royal title made him uncomfortable. Alastor knew this, they’d talked about it several times, and he used it to twist the conversation away or else he’d shovel more dirt on the pile of what was expected of a prince and Takuma felt his chest tighten at just the thought and agreed to let it go.

“We’re Americans, we don’t do royalty.” Takuma snipped once.

Alastor had laughed so hard, he had to grab the back of his chair to hold himself up. “Oh, the things that you think up! American or not, Hell doesn’t much care where you came from, you’ll learn soon enough, my darling.”

So, you can imagine that Alastor was probably the least helpful person to ask about this.

Vaggie was very stressed about the whole thing, but whenever he tried to gently steer into a conversation about how he could lend an ear—manipulate? Noo, just very helpful! —Vaggie would just give him this sad little smile and hug him tight, another kiss to his face and told he didn’t need to worry about adult problems, just enjoy being a cute kid.

This cute kid is fucking done with annoying adults.

And before you ask, no Angel Dust did not help either, before he could even bring up the subject, he was told not to bring it up because Angel was already warn not to fall for any of his cute tricks.

Husk said Alastor forbid him from talking about it, Pen fell into the party of “Little Prince’s need not worry about the state of affairs of his Kingdom until he’s come of age.”

Niffty knew jack shit and just kept trying to put a princess tiara of roaches on his head.

Takuma had to find a spot in the hotel without prying eyes to have a crash out. Which was a very disorganized supply closet. He kicked a box and bit his thumb as he tried to go through everything he already knew and try to put the pieces together.

1. Heaven very obviously did not believe in redemption of a sinner in Hell
   1. Lucifer and Alastor also did not believe this
2. He’d seen a countdown on Angel Dust’s phone several times, he wouldn’t talk about it but the thought of it stressed him out
3. Charlie had spoken with Adam. That had gone very poorly.
   1. Yes, he knew who Adam was, keep up!
4. When he’d eavesdropped on Lucifer and Charlie arguing, before being caught, she’d been asking for a real talk with the counsel of Heaven, something Lucifer shot down multiple times in that “I don’t want you to get hurt” way he did.

Obviously, Heaven was doing something distressing, but Takuma was never going to find out what it was in the hotel. Maybe if he snuck out and just took a look around...

However, Alastor seemed to have an alarm for this, because just looking at the front doors or getting too close made him appear with talks of Takuma finishing up that shrine painting or perhaps, he’d enjoy hearing about another one of his victims.

Takuma always cursed his weakness for hearing about the murders, his curiosity was going to get him one day. And Alastor dangled the juicy stories like a treat whenever it was convenient to him.

To be clear here, I don’t condone the murders! But colleges really like thesis papers about deep thoughts. What was better than an unknown serial killer and putting together his murders and how his psyche had worked? It’s NOT CHEATING when I’m asking the source!

This brings us to a frustrating part, going back to school when in two weeks he’d be a living resident of Hell and never have to come back here.

He had to stay at the foster parent’s home, they’d never noticed his absence and he didn’t care to engage with them passed eating the food they left for him.

The house was quiet when Takuma got back from school. He didn’t bother to kick off his shoes, he would be calling on Lucifer to take him back to the hotel anyways.

He shoulders his backpack higher as he walked past the darkened living room and was making his way towards his bedroom when the house phone rang.

Takuma frowned. It was the house line, not his own. He was supposed to ignore that, but something twisted in his gut.

He picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Takuma?” It was his case worker, her voice clipped and business-like, as always. “Good. I caught you before dinner. I wanted to let you know a family’s come forward. You’ll need to pack tonight. They’re picking you up tomorrow morning.”

Takuma felt like he could hear Alastor’s record scratch in his own head.

Then a small, stunned, “What?”

“They’re a little out of state, but fully vetted, and they’re really excited to meet you. This is great news, Takuma! You’re going to have your own room, your own space—and a family who’s already reviewed your file and—”

“I don’t want them.” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to go.”

A pause. “Takuma, I know this is scary—”

“I don’t want to go!” His voice pitched higher, shriller, like something deep inside him had been torn open. “Please don’t make me go—I already have a family, I already—”

The words caught in his throat.

He dropped the phone.

He ran.

He didn’t think—just slammed into his room, locked the door, pressed his back to it, trembling. His vision blurred, chest heaving. Every breath rattled like glass.

He had just two weeks until his thirteenth birthday. Two weeks before the deal expired. Two weeks before everything was supposed to be settled—and instead, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“Lucifer,” he whispered, voice cracking as he sank to the floor. “Lucifer, please—please, I need you—Dad—”

The shadows rippled.

And then he was there.

Not in a blaze of brimstone, not with trumpet fanfare. Just there, kneeling beside him with glowing red eyes wide in alarm.

Takuma launched forward, grabbing fistfuls of the King’s shirt like it was the only thing anchoring him to Earth.

“They—they’re taking me. Tomorrow. Some family. I—I don’t want them, I didn’t ask for them—please don’t let them take me, please—”

Lucifer caught him, wrapping strong arms around his trembling form, wings curling forward protectively. “I’m here, I’m here, I’ve got you—” he murmured, voice low and desperate.

“You promised!” Takuma sobbed. “You promised, if no one wanted me, you’d keep me—you said I could stay with you!”

“I did,” Lucifer said, voice hoarse. “And I meant every word—”

“Then just make it go away!” he wailed. “Why can’t you just—just—fix it!”

Lucifer tightened his hold. “Because we made a deal, Takuma. I gave my word. If a family stepped forward who saw you for who you are… I can’t interfere.”

“I don’t care about them! I want you!” Takuma cried, his whole body shaking. “I don’t want new people, I don’t want to start over—I finally have something good and you’re just—letting it go—letting me go—!”

Lucifer closed his eyes. “No, never. I would never let you go. Listen to me,” he pulled back, holding Takuma’s tear-streaked face in both hands, gently but firmly. “I can’t undo what was done. But I can amend it. If this family backs out—if they return you to the system—then the deal is void. I can adopt you immediately.”

“That’s not fair!” Takuma sobbed. “Why don’t I get to choose?”

“Because I wanted to give you a choice, and a chance,” Lucifer whispered. “A chance to be loved in the human world, without me damning you by association.”

“I already chose you,” Takuma whispered brokenly. “And they’re going to throw me away, I know it.”

He crushed Takuma to his chest. “Then let them. And the moment they do, I’ll be there. I’ll sign the papers right in front of you. You’ll never go back. You’ll never leave my side again.”

Takuma clung to him, breath ragged.

“Promise?”

Lucifer’s eyes blazed crimson with divine wrath and aching sorrow. “On my throne in Hell, on my blood, and on every star in the sky—I promise.”

Takuma nodded weakly, curling in on himself, fists still clenched in Lucifer’s coat.

They stayed that way for a long time—child and devil, curled into each other as if trying to stop the world from turning.

Because for Takuma, it had just shifted off its axis again.

Takuma sat on the edge of his bed, the suitcase half-packed at his feet. His hands trembled in his lap, and the air in the room felt thick and too still. The silence pressed in on him, suffocating. Lucifer had vanished—he’d promised, sworn he would fix it if it came to that.

But what if it didn’t?

What if this was just it?

He didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to think or want to hope anymore.

The shadows shifted in the corner of the room.

Takuma jerked up, breath caught in his throat.

And then—“Hello, darling.”

Alastor stepped out of the dark like it was a curtain, not a moment of hesitation in his stride. His smile, so often terrifying, was pulled taught—off, wrong. A ghost of itself. His eyes were locked on Takuma, red and searching.

Takuma looked confused. “I didn’t call you.”

“I wasn’t invited, no,” Alastor said quietly, voice far more subdued than usual. “But your distress was quite loud.”

Takuma blinked. “I’m not hurt.”

Alastor tilted his head, the smile twitching. “No? Then perhaps my shadow lied. But they seemed quite insistent that something was wrong.”

Takuma’s lips parted, throat thick. He tried to say it. Tried to explain.

But it all burst out at once: “I want to make a deal with you.”

Alastor froze.

The air in the room dropped. The shadows pulsed like a heartbeat.

“Take my soul. Please,” Takuma rushed on. “Just—just take it, right now. Make it yours. I’ll stay with you. You can keep me, right? That’s what you do, isn’t it? You make deals, and then people belong to you. I want to belong to you, please—please just don’t let them take me—”

Alastor’s expression shattered, the stitches on his mouth pulled his grin taut.

“No.”

It wasn’t sharp or commanding. It came out soft and horrified.

Takuma blinked at him, confused, hands still outstretched in offering. “Wh—what?”

Alastor took a shaky step back, one hand pressed to his chest. “No,” he repeated, louder. “I will not take your soul.”

“But—why—” Takuma’s voice trembled. “Why not? Is it not enough? Am I not enough?”

Alastor surged forward so fast the lights flickered. “Don’t you dare.”

Takuma flinched, but didn’t retreat.

“I am not rejecting you,” Alastor hissed, voice breaking on the last word. “I’m rejecting what that would mean. I will not own you. I will not trap you. Not you.”

Tears spilled again down Takuma’s cheeks, and his hands fell. “But if you don’t take me, I won’t ever see you again.”

“You are already mine,” Alastor said, eyes wide, terrified, furious at something he couldn’t name. “You are already mine, Takuma. Soul or not. I don’t want your soul. I want you safe.”

Takuma crumbled.

“No one ever wants me,” he choked. “They just pass me around. Like I’m a problem to fix, or a dog they didn’t mean to get. And I thought—I thought you did, but now you’re leaving too—”

“I’m not!” Alastor shouted, the word ripping out of him. “I’m not going anywhere!”

His hands found Takuma’s shoulders, trembling but steady. “Listen to me, darling—listen closely: I will fix this. I will talk to Lucifer. I don’t care what he says. This is not happening.”

Takuma’s eyes were too wide, too wet, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

Alastor’s voice cracked for the first time in years. “You won’t.”

But Takuma kept shaking, crying, words spilling like a dam that had long since broken. “I don’t want to be somewhere new. I don’t want to start over again. I don’t want to be on my best behavior so I don’t get sent away again—I can’t do that again. Please, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be quiet, just don’t go—”

Alastor couldn’t take it.

He wrapped the boy into his chest and held him tight, rocking slightly on his heels.

“You’re already good. You’re already mine,” he repeated against Takuma’s hair. “And you’re not going anywhere. I’ll make sure of it.”

Takuma clung to him, fists knotted in Alastor’s coat. His sobs were soundless but wrecking.

Alastor held on a second longer.

Then he straightened, shadows crawling up his spine.

“I’m going to speak to the King,” he said, voice low and absolute. “You wait here. You are not alone in this. Not anymore.”

Takuma didn’t reply, unable to meet his eyes, because his stomach sank with dread.

Alastor vanished into the shadows, fury and desperation following him like a storm.

Takuma didn’t see anyone else until the next morning, when it was his case worker.

The door to Lucifer’s workshop blew open with a crack of splitting wood.

Lucifer sat at his worktable, sleeves rolled up, head in his hands and hair in disarray.

“Alastor.”

The Radio Demon didn’t respond at first. His shoulders were taut, his red eyes ablaze—not with mirth, not with mischief—but something ancient and cornered and furious.

“You can’t let this happen,” Alastor said, his voice sharp with conviction, but trembling at the edges. “You know what this will do to him.”

Lucifer pulled away from his misery and finally looked up. His face was unreadable—an old mask that had seen centuries of war and heartbreak. But the ache in his eyes gave him away.

“I can’t stop it,” he said.

“You’re the King of Hell,” Alastor snarled, stalking closer. “You can burn cities to ash with a thought. You tell time to kneel. And you’re telling me you can’t keep one little boy from being ripped away from us?”

“It’s not about power,” Lucifer said wearily. “It’s about the deal. You, of all demons, should understand.”

Alastor’s jaw clenched, teeth bared. “Don’t you dare use that logic on me. I don’t make deals that tear children away from their homes.”

Lucifer's voice was steady, but quiet. “You’ve made worse.”

Alastor went still. The air dropped ten degrees.

Lucifer powered through. “I amended the deal. If the family backs out, the contract with Takuma reactivates, and I’ll be able to adopt him immediately. But I can’t override what he agreed to. He made the choice. The rules are clear. You know they are.”

“You amended the deal?” Alastor echoed, incredulous. “You amended the deal and still didn’t stop this from happening?”

“I’m not allowed to interfere further. And neither are you.” Lucifer’s gaze hardened now. “You’re forbidden from entering the mortal realm. Until this plays out, your shadows won’t take you to the mortal realm.”

That did it.

Alastor’s laugh came sharp and wild, the kind that scraped the edges of sanity. “You’ve grounded me?”

“You made a contract with me, Alastor. You belong to me. You are my servant—and you will not defy me on this.”

With a roar of rage, Alastor slammed his fist into the stone wall of the workshop, cracking the marble with a sickening crunch. The hole bloomed outward, a jagged reminder of his fury.

Lucifer didn’t move.

“You don’t even want to stop this,” Alastor seethed, his voice raw and cracking. “You say you care—but this? This is nothing but cowardice.”

Lucifer's wings bristled faintly under his skin, fire beginning to curl beneath his breath.

Alastor wasn’t done.

“You call yourself a father? I’ve seen how you look at him. You chose him. You called him your son—and now you’re just letting him go. Just like you did with Charlie.”

Lucifer took a slow breath, but didn’t deny it.

Alastor’s eyes burned like coals. “You want to know the truth? You really want to know what I think?”

Lucifer didn’t answer.

“I don’t want you. Not this version. Not this ghost of a King who hides away in his workshop, who lets a little boy pack his bags for strangers and cries into his plush instead of doing something. I want the Morningstar who fights for his children. The one who makes the world tremble when his family is threatened.”

Lucifer finally stepped forward, quiet fire licking up from his mouth. “You think I haven’t fought for him? You think I didn’t scream to the heavens and the depths both? You think I don’t feel like I’m breaking apart because of this?”

Alastor didn’t answer. His hands were shaking now, claws twitching in fists at his sides.

“You’re not the only one who loves him,” Lucifer said, voice a growl.

Alastor looked at him, and for a moment—just a moment—Lucifer saw something terrifying.

Not rage.

Not pain.

But resolve.

Without another word, Alastor turned and stepped into the shadows. He would find a way back. One that didn’t belong to Lucifer.

Lucifer stood alone in the ruined quiet, wings tucked tight under his skin, the wall behind him weeping dust from the cracked marble.

He hadn’t told Charlie.

He didn’t know how.

And now he was losing both of them.

Alastor paced.

For once, his usual showmanship had vanished. Just sharp footsteps across the metal flooring of his radio tower. A place rarely visited by others, cloaked in static and echoes of music no longer playing.

Angel sat in the only chair, arms crossed, watching him like he might combust.

“So, what’s the plan, Smiles?” Angel asked, his tone was quiet but urgent. “Getting passed the literal King of Hell is gunna need somethin’ sneaky and underhanded.”

“I know,” Alastor muttered, racking his claws through his hair and down his neck. “I have contacts but none with the reach I need. Not without owing favors I won’t risk. Not for this.”

“You sure you’re not just scared of what the King’ll do if you try?”

“I don’t care what Lucifer does,” Alastor snapped, eyes flaring red as the lights flickered. “Let him chain me to the deepest pit. I will not abandon my boy.”

Angel sighed and his shoulders slumped, and he glanced at the door. “Y’know… Charlie’s gunna find out eventually.”

“She already knows something is wrong,” Alastor muttered, turning back to a wall filled with old maps and arcane symbols. “She’s too clever for her own good.”

The hatch door slammed open.

“Then stop treating me like I’m stupid.”

Both demons froze. Charlie pulled herself up through the hatch, breath shallow. Her eyes were wide but blazing.

Angel stood up from the chair, holding up his hands. “Whoa—hey, princess—”

“Don’t,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me it’s fine. Where is Takuma?”

The room went still, and Alastor didn’t turn around. There wasn’t anything he could say to her.

Charlie took a shaky step forward. “I tried to call him. The line's dead. He's gone—isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Alastor said softly. “He’s been placed. The deal was fulfilled.”

Charlie stared at him. “So, you’re just—what? Giving up?”

Alastor’s jaw clenched. “I am trying to find a way to get to him.”

Angel said what Alastor couldn’t. “Short King owns Smiles’ soul, he was given strict orders that he can’t use his own powers ta get back ta Radio Baby.”

Charlie took all this information with no small amount of grace, compartmentalizing and staying focused.

“I’m helping you,” Charlie said.

Alastor blinked and turned to her. “Absolutely not.”

“You don’t get to make that choice,” Charlie snapped, stepping into his space. “He’s my brother. And I don’t care what deals were made. He’s family. We don’t leave family behind.”

The conviction in her voice sent a ripple through the room. Alastor studied her face for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he nodded once. “Whatever way we find, your father can’t be in the know of.”

Charlie nodded back, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’ll handle my dad, you find a way to the mortal realm and we both bring him home.”