Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alastor did not like to leave things alone that bothered him, on the whole. He preferred when things were carefree, unconstrained, and when the path ahead was smooth. However, seeing Lucifer in the hotel’s lobby, interacting with so many of the new guests and popping in and out as if nothing had even happened, as if he hadn’t crawled out of a hole bleeding golden ichor…well, that irked him. 

The hotel itself might have been a slight annoyance, and he was glad to be rid of the obligation to be part of its motley crew, but the possibilities it now presented were endless. More people, more deals, more power to be gained, and yet the most tempting vulnerability had six wings and was wandering around as though the nearest sinner couldn’t shred the king into bits without any sort of retaliation. Alastor knew that Lucifer was a golden apple of opportunity, but pinning him down before someone else did would be a greater challenge than he wanted. As always, the Morningstars did love to make his life harder than it had to be, and Lucifer was the original in every sense of the word. 

He was, Alastor thought to himself as he strolled up to the man’s door, like a splinter in Alastor’s very soul. Ignoring him would only make things worse. Far better to face him head on before someone else got hold of the golden goose.

Slipping into the shadows, he seeped under the door, watching as Lucifer tinkered with something or other. He was always doing that, too, working on something inane as though it mattered. Another irritating thing about the man. Boundless energy, poured into the most idiotic things. (Why ducks? Who knew, but the amount of them did not speak of a sound mind.)

“Greetings, your majesty!” He tried to put on a cheerful tone. “Hard at work?”

Lucifer nearly fell off the chair, the delicate metal of whatever he was working on clinking onto the table before he regained his balance and glared up at Alastor. “Oh. You. What do you want?”

“Hmm, well…I was wondering if you might consider not hanging around in the open like a bad smell. It would be best for everyone.”

“Oh, no, bucko. I’m staying right here, where my daughter wants me.” Lucifer turned his back to Alastor, carefully tidying up the mechanism. It looked somewhat like a carousel, half-finished, and Alastor narrowed his eyes at the lack of ducks. How odd. 

“Really, sire? In your state?” Alastor said, the fake concern dripping from his voice. 

“The hell is that supposed to mean? For your information, I’ve made a full recovery. I’m perfectly fine after your little friend’s plan failed.” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Is there anything else, or are you going to scuttle on back into the shadows again?”

Really, the man knew more than Alastor about getting under someone’s skin, and he didn’t always seem to be doing it on purpose. Sharp teeth gritted, Alastor felt his temper slip away from him.

“I’ll give you some advice, your majesty, and I’ll even do so for free.” Static crackled in the air, Alastor’s eyes glowing a little more than they usually did. “Don’t step up on a stage and show your vulnerabilities to all of Hell unless you want to be torn limb from limb in front of your loving daughter. My, but what a show that would be. I mean, I thought you were weak, but–” 

“Did you not read the sign?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “I worked really hard on that, you know. It specifically says–” 

“Even in so delightful a place as Cannibal Town, they fantasize about the taste of an angel, and as that braggart pointed out, you’re one yourself, chained down here like the rest of us.” Alastor stepped forward. “Unless you want to find yourself at someone’s mercy, you should become a little more guarded. I told you, you’ve been sloppy with your secrets. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle you’ve survived this long. Not everyone is going to be as undeniably stupid as the flat-headed farce who’s been running broadcasts in my absence. Sooner or later, somebody clever is going to take advantage of your weaknesses because you put them on display. Your daughter, your restraints, and your naivety. Any one of those could be your downfall, and as entertaining as it might be in the moment, it would put a lot more work on my plate if the dynamic of Hell shifted like that.”

He waited for a reply, but merely saw Lucifer hunching over, not looking him in the face. Good grief, if such truths hurt the man, it really was a miracle he had survived this long. 

Lucifer straightened up, glaring at him before disappearing in a flash of bright flame. Did he truly have nothing to say? Surely not. Even when it was stupid, he had some insult or quip or something inane to add.

He didn’t show up the next day, or the next. Alastor crept into the room now and then, expecting him to be working on some stupid duck or other, but he wasn’t able to find hide nor hair of him. On the third day, however, he did find the trapdoor when he stepped on the rug and something quacked under his feet.

Because of fucking course.

Seeping through it in the shadows, he found a very cozy cave tucked into what should have been a wall. Red and white stripes made up the curved ceiling, and there were as always a truly worrying amount of ducks piled here, there, and everywhere, while a small bed with apple-patterned bed sheets and a small white snake toy lay to the side. A sofa with a worrying amount of ice cream pots sat in front of a small television, the king’s hat sat upon it. 

“Hm.” Alastor looked around. “Well, this is depressing.”

“....huh?” 

The snake toy moved a little, and Alastor froze, seeping back into the shadows as the creature lifted its head before curling back up, snuggling up to the pillow. 

Oh, for crying out loud. He was surrounded by people who screamed about wanting to rule Hell, who eyed the position with hunger, who boasted that they might as well be doing so, and the man who actually did was taking the form of a snake and eating ice cream in a secret duck-themed basement under his fucking duck-themed room. A thread of patience snapped as Alastor lifted the snake up by a shadowy tentacle.

“Stop. Sulking.” 

“Fuck off!” Lucifer popped into existence, glaring at him and attempting to wriggle free. “Can’t a guy get a little privacy– fuck!” Sparks flickered off him, as though from a fire, and Alastor hissed as they landed on his shadows and Lucifer vanished, reappearing in a corner of the room.

“What part of you not being allowed in my room is so fucking– Are you actually incapable of leaving me alone?” Lucifer’s horns flicked into being, flame flickering between them. “What is your deal, man? Is this some sort of entertainment to you? You must be really bored if the only thing you can do is bug me. Believe me, fucker, if I could, I’d have ended you years ago. And don’t go acting all high and mighty either. It’s not like you assholes don’t run around giving yourself restraints for shit that isn’t going to matter in fifty years!”

Alastor tilted his head. “You mean deals?”

“Oh, you cocky motherfucker– Yes, deals! You go around trading away your souls for this power or that, grasping and grabbing like the restraints are worth it! And apparently, all you did was get yourself captured to land right back at square one. How does it feel to be back at the beginning, bucko?” Lucifer’s fists were clenched. “I had no say in my restraints, but you sinners, you choose them over and over like they really even matter in the long run. And Heaven comes down here to apologise to you.” 

“Ooh, tough break,” Alastor cooed. “Why, did you want a gift basket? I’m sure Charlie can get one for you if you ask nicely.”

“Fuck you.” Lucifer snarled at him. “My kid might believe there’s good in everyone, and I will support her every step of the way, but you don’t want to be better. I know you, you creepy fucker, and I know that you enjoy being down here every bit as much as I loathe it.” 

“We could go back and forth all day in this cozy little pit, but frankly, it really would be too boring. Besides, I’m merely laying out the facts. You’re vulnerable, and flaunting yourself around the way you are will only lead to heartache.”

“No.” Lucifer held his chin up. “I am not going to hide away. So what if they know? It’s way too late to be scared of you fuckers, and I’m not leaving Charlie to it.”

“Oh, like hiding away’s helpful?” 

Lucifer’s frown turned into a smug grin. 

“I’ve been helping around the place, actually. Charlie’s girlfriend’s been pretty busy with everything, so I’ve mostly been doing the night shift’s laundry.”

Alastor’s brain stuttered.

“You…what.” 

“Laundry? Like the washing and ironing? I mean, I put too much powder in on the first night, but after I cleaned that up it was fine. Besides, now that the fish guy and your needle girl are all cuddled up, I don’t need to worry about her as much if I need the cleaning supplies. I do my own laundry at home, anyway. You think I could look this good without knowing my way around an iron?”

He postured, and Alastor stared at him, wordlessly, before hearing the static ring in his ears.

“Al? Buddy?”

He was ridiculous, and vulnerable, and stubborn. He was irritating, and nothing Alastor said to him was making him stop. If anything, it was making it worse. The more they talked, the more he learned about him, albeit mostly against his will, and the more this irritation grew. He let himself fall into the shadow, fleeing the scene. What the hell did you say in the face of that? The weak king of Hell, priding himself on doing the hotel’s laundry. 

At the bar that night, once most of the residents had made their way to bed, Husk was cleaning glasses when Alastor let himself form behind him. 

“Fuck— What can I get you?” Husk gritted out. My, but he’d lost some of his bite since everything had gone down at the tower. Well, that was the price of getting attached to something so doomed, Alastor supposed. It wasn’t as if he’d been blind to the back and forth that Angel and Husk had developed, but he also knew all three of the Vees more than he cared to, and while he might be somewhat benevolent to the souls he owned (through lack of care, mostly) he knew that those under their watch were not so lucky. He’d been surprised that Angel had even been allowed to stay at the hotel in the first place, though he supposed he should have guessed the reason behind Vox agreeing to it. Still, Husk’s despondency had been palpable for weeks now, and it was starting to grate.

“A drink, my fine fellow. Something smooth, if you please.”

“Yeah, yeah. The usual. Ain’t going to take it to your room?” Husk began serving it up. 

“I’m quite happy here.” Alastor took the glass when he was offered it, trying to let himself fall into his usual routine. 

“Really? ‘Cause you’ve pretty much just been glaring at Lucifer whenever I’ve seen you around.” Husk raised his eyebrows. “Keep seeing you hang over the bannisters on the top floor. Anything I should know?” 

“I’m not glaring at him, Husker, merely observing. I am allowed to do that much, am I not?” Alastor kept the grin on his face wide. “Besides, keeping an eye on things is part of my duties as host of the hotel.”

“Right, like you’d ever tell me jack shit.” Husk pulled a packet of something out from under the bar, pouring it into a bowl, and Alastor heard snuffling noises from underneath. He peered with narrowed eyes, seeing a makeshift bed and curled up in it, the insufferable pig that had managed to chew on his coat a couple of times.

“Why is that there, my good friend.” 

“Just say you’re pissed off like the rest of us.” Husk lifted Fat Nuggets onto the bar, directing him towards the bowl. “I’m just babysitting him, that’s all. Besides, he’s good company.”

“I could drop him off at the tower and save you the trouble.”

“Hell no.” Husk didn’t look up. “I’m looking after him until Angel comes back, that’s all. So’s Cherri.” He sounded almost nonchalant. “And she’s very attached to him, as it happens. Besides, don’t tell me you’d willingly go anywhere near the tower with things how they are at the moment. Those shitheads might have helped us out, but Valentino’s volatile enough without the power that’s gone to his head these days.”

He did so hate when Husk made a good point, and his fingers itched to pull at the chain connecting them, but that would achieve nothing save for heightening his frustration in a more visible manner. 

“I can’t say I see the appeal of such a creature.” Alastor sipped his creature. “Isn’t it annoying? Chasing around after something that can’t take care of itself?”

“Little fella here can take care of himself fine. It’s just easier with a little help.” Husk returned to cleaning the glasses. “And you know, some people think that sort of thing is cute, you know? Nurturing instinct, something like that. They like caring about something.”

“How ridiculous.” Alastor’s smile tightened. “I see no reason for rushing around after something weak. If it’s destined to die, it’ll wind up dead even if you waste your time and energy on it anyway.”

He paused, hearing his words out loud, and tried to brush off the unease the sentiment had settled in his chest.

“Yeah, well, you’re not one to worry about other things like that. Lucky for you.” Husk raised an eyebrow. “I’d pay good money to see that, though.”

“Ah-hah.” Alastor set the glass down with a harsh clink. “And where would you get the money?” He stepped away briskly, knowing that Husk would be glaring at his back, his mind racing as he tried to push the thought away. Protecting his interests was not the same as caring. He did not do care, and he certainly didn’t need to worry about the likes of Lucifer fucking Morningstar.

Fuck. 

Chapter Text

The next day, Alastor decided to check some of his facts with Niffty, but was surprised to find that she was in none of her usual haunts. Quite perplexing, and a little annoying, but eventually he stopped Charlie in the hallway. She was carrying various art supplies, balancing them while her little cat wound around her legs.

“Charlie, my dear! Looks as though you could use a hand.” He steadied the pile with his shadows, and she smiled gratefully.

“Oh! Thanks, Alastor! I’m just on my way to the art therapy class - we’re working on a collaborative painting today. It’s…going pretty well, actually, so I’ve got high hopes! Want to join?”

“No thank you. Though I am looking for Niffty. I can’t think where she’s got to, and I was wondering if you might have an idea. You two do seem to be closer these days, and I know that she values your friendship…”

“Hmm…Maybe in the laboratory? She and Baxter, have, you know, been hanging out a lot. I think they’re…oops, here we are!” Charlie turned into a room, and Alastor helped her set down the supplies.

“Thank you, Charlie. Whatever would we do without you?” He smiled at her, and walked out of the door, leaving her to set up her next activity. She did seem suited to the job, much more than she had to managing the hotel in the way that Vaggi had taken to doing. Well, everyone had a vocation that suited them.

Baxter’s laboratory was in the basement, far away from the bustle and chatter of the main hotel, which he wasn’t too surprised by. The man didn’t much like to socialise, from what he’d gathered, and stepping down into his domain plunged Alastor into a darkness lit only by the blue glow of lights that set his teeth on edge with their familiarity. Of course. It had slipped his mind who the scientist used to work for. He should have expected nothing less than such a garish palette for such a workspace.

A scurry of movement caught at his hearing, familiar and excitable, and his shoulders relaxed.

“Whatever are you doing down in this dingy little dungeon, my dear?”

“Oh! Alastor!” Niffty grinned at him, hanging upside down from one of the wires one of the many machines boasted. “Well, Baxter wanted to practice some augmentations, so I brought him some rats I captured so he can test his theory! He says they’re evolving defensive mechanisms that he wants to study to see if they’re transferable.” 

“I have a theory that some of the creatures at the hotel are developing more defensive strategies and evolving quicker under Niffty’s care,” Baxter said. “Her effect on this biome is rather interesting, and quite fascinating to study, too. Her combat capabilities are actually furthering the evolution of these pests at a rapid rate.”

“I…see. I wanted to ask you about the laundry. Have you been seeing to it of late?”

“It’s okay! King Bad Boy’s been helping me out with the night shift.” Niffty shuffled upwards, appearing next to Baxter, who didn’t seem fazed. “I mean, I had to clean up after the first night, but…”

“Hm.” Alastor narrowed his eyes at Baxter. The fellow appeared quite absorbed in studying the rat in the little glass tank, working on a mechanism in the ceiling above it, but he was letting Niffty lean on his shoulder as he did. Of course, Alastor had no intention of trusting Vox’s former minion, but at the very least, he did trust Niffty to defend herself in most circumstances, and Baxter didn’t really look as though he’d pose much of a threat to her. 

“Why, did you need me to wash something? Ooh, did your coat get dirty again? I can take care of it! Or did it get ripped? Let me–” Niffty zipped around him, clambering over and inspecting him closely. “Nope, not here– not here– I can’t see anything at all!”

“My coat is perfectly fine, my dear. Well, I shall leave you to it. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your…time together.” He lifted Niffty up, placing her gently down on the ground, and noticing how she immediately scuttled back to Baxter, watching his work with interest and flinging her arms around his shoulders. A slight smile tugged at Baxter’s lips, and Alastor tilted his head. How very interesting. Well, he wouldn’t begrudge Niffty such a…companionship.

“Goodbye, Alastor,” Baxter said, politely, as Niffty waved cheerfully. At least he had manners, unlike his former employer.

That night, Alastor found himself lurking in the shadows of the laundry room. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe Niffty - she wasn’t exactly known to lie, after all - but he had to see it for himself, he supposed. 

“Alright!” Lucifer wheeled a gigantic bin into the room, full of sheets and dirty laundry. “Let’s see…” He began whistling as he shed his coat and hat, spinning his staff as golden magic surrounded the laundry and soap, slinging it into the machines. “Oof, we really need a new machine, better tell Charlie’s girlfriend in the morning…” 

The laundry machines began spinning as Alastor watched, as Lucifer began singing something in a language he couldn’t quite follow, wings flapping out as he flitted here and there, collecting the clean things out of the dryer and clicking his fingers, bouncing the ironing board and the iron out of hiding. His wings spread as he continued singing under his breath, the steam rising as he concentrated on the task. 

So it was true. Lucifer had been doing the laundry as of late. He wondered when it had started - if it was before or after their little spat - but he hadn’t been lying when he said he knew how. He would have surely expected him to at least burn a sheet or two, but instead over the course of a couple of hours, a stack of neatly folded sheets and various pieces of clothing were stacked on the tables.

“And there we are!” Lucifer said, triumphantly, turning to a few that were set aside. “Hm, she did say to leave mending to the side for her…” He tilted his head from side to side. “But…They’d look kinda cute if I patched them. Hm…” A needle appeared in his hand, golden thread stretching out, as he seemed to struggle with something for a moment, fingers twitching.

Alastor’s shadow flicked towards Lucifer, grabbing his hand.

“Ah! What the fuck–” 

“If Niffty told you to leave the mending to her, she means it. She doesn’t quite like when other people touch her things.” Alastor stepped forward. “Once again, this is merely advice, but she can get very protective over her interests.”

“How long have you been there, Bambi?” Lucifer smacked his shadow away, narrowing his eyes. “The fuck are you doing, lurking around here?”

“I wanted to see if the rumours were true, that’s all.” Alastor leaned over him. “How very interesting. I would have thought the palace was staffed enough to keep a silver spoon firmly jammed into your mouth.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know how to take care of myself, you know. Or did you think that Heaven sent me a full staff when they threw me down?” Lucifer rolled his eyes at Alastor. “Besides, it just took a little tinkering, few bits and bobs–”

“Tinkering?”  Alastor looked at the washing machine again. 

“Yeah, it just needed a couple of upgrades.” Lucifer crossed his arms. “Or is that a problem, too?”

Alastor inspected the washing machine, finding two duck shaped buttons, and turned to glare at Lucifer.

“What did you do.” 

“I made it less boring! C’mon, I couldn’t just sit there and watch it go round and round all night while I did the ironing. Go on, give it a spin.” Lucifer raised his eyebrows, starting to grin. “You might even enjoy yourself for once.”

Alastor slowly pressed the button, and a little hatch popped up at the back, a bronze duck popping out from it. Music began to play, old fashioned and upbeat. He looked between Lucifer and the thing in front of him, before pointing at it with one finger.

“Why.”

“I thought you liked radios. Eh, the connection down here wouldn’t allow for a TV, and I thought all that would be a bit too…much for this thing. But that little thing there seems to be doing fine. And before you bite my head off, Mr Grumpy, I already made sure to protect it from the water and adjust the electrical stuff.”

“The washing machine does not need a radio.” Alastor could feel his patience being tested the longer he looked at the stupid, stupid thing in front of him. 

“Press the other button,” Lucifer said, smugly. “I dare you.”

“I am not pressing the other button!” Alastor snapped, stomping up the stairs. 

“Well, you’re missing out!” Lucifer called after him, cheerfully. Alastor stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down at him as the king of Hell went back to folding the sheets he’d ironed, and singing the song Alastor still couldn’t quite place in any language. It was…haunting, in a way that beckoned the ear, and Alastor forced himself to keep walking. That stupid fool had no business messing around with the machinery of the hotel, making everything as ridiculous as he himself was. 

Husk didn’t question anything when Alastor appeared at the bar the next evening, merely making him the usual before Niffty came skipping in.

“Oh, hey Niff, how was your date?” 

“It was great!” Niffty grinned wide. “We held a death match with the rats and bugs, and Baxter said that he had so many theories to test, and the king made us this apple pie! So romantic…” She clasped her hands to the side. “I can’t wait for the next one, Baxter says he wants to surprise me!”

“Man, you two really are getting along well.” Husk raised his eyebrows. “The king bakes?”

“Yup! Mostly apples, and one creme brulee.” Niffty hopped up onto the bar. “Can I have a juice?”

“Sure thing.” Husk handed her a box, and she spun around, stabbing the straw into the box before, swinging her legs.

“Niffty…” Alastor smiled at her, feeling a growing suspicion. “Have you been hanging out with Lucifer?”

“Yup!” Niffty sipped her juice, looking up at him and blinking. “I had to ask him how to get angel blood out of the sheets.”

“You what?” Husk said, as Alastor’s smile became fixed.

“It’s angel blood, so it’s kinda resistant to the usual. It was so difficult to clean it properly, and I used everything, and I had to ask him. You guys were so filthy after that big battle with the angels. I thought he’d know, and he did.” Niffty grinned. “Came in useful on his sheets.”

“His…”

“After that big fight! He was bleeding everywhere.” Niffty giggled, pressing a hand to her cheek. “He was really happy I was able to wash the stains out, but I’m great with washing bloodstains out of things, right, Alastor?” 

“...It’s one of your many talents, my dear.”

“Yay!” Niffty hopped down from the bar. “See ya!” 

In the blink of an eye, she’d scuttled away, and Alastor found himself gritting his teeth. Usually, he’d find Niffty’s peculiar friendships entertaining, but in this instance the idea of Lucifer bonding with Niffty grated at his very being. 

“Didn’t see that one coming,” Husk commented. “I mean, it’s not like that guy acts particularly royal, or anything, but…”

“Ah-hah-hah.” Alastor felt static crackle around him. “Well, it seems that Niffty has found herself a new beau, at least.”

“Oh, that? Yeah, they were getting pretty cozy, for a little while now. Baxter was telling everyone how Niff threw Velvet out of a window when all that went down, remember? Think she swept him off his feet a little with that one. Guess a big gesture like that works for some people.” Husk paused. “Why’re you asking about Lucifer, anyway?”

“I suppose I was just…curious. Do you not find him rather foolish?”

“Eh, he’s alright.” Husk shrugged. “Don’t really spend much time around the guy. He’s not really one to come by the bar. Are you planning something I should be aware of?”

“When have you ever known my plans?” Alastor set the glass down gently. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be turning in for the night.”

He walked away, humming to himself, before pausing partway down the corridor, his shadow slipping away from him before he followed it, dissolving into wisps and reappearing at the door to the laundry room.

Curse the man. He pressed the button on the laundry machine tentatively, looking at the duck-shaped radio as it popped out, soft music playing as it did so. What a…stupid thing. He slowly pressed the second button, and a little puff of confetti popped out of the duck’s beak with a little trumpet noise.

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever seen,” he muttered, poking it with a finger, before hearing a gasp behind him.

“You did push the button!” Lucifer said, gleefully, rushing down the stairs. “Hah! You do like it!”

“No, it’s inane.” Alastor stepped away from him swiftly. “What possessed you to do this in the first place?”

“Well, I was bored.” Lucifer patted the duck on its head. “Besides, you should see some of the other improvements I’ve made. This is nothing.” He unfolded his wings, flapping up to the bigger dryer as Alastor struggled to maintain an air of nonchalance.

“What do you mean, your majesty?” 

“Oh, just this and that, you know? Just to liven things up a bit. Oh, and I hid a hundred little duckies in your room. See how you like someone going into your space.” Lucifer grinned at him, clicking his fingers and disappearing as Alastor’s shadows lunged for him, only grasping a handful of red-hot sparks.

He was actually going to have to kill the king of Hell, Alastor thought dimly, as he regained control of his shadows. He was going to have to kill him before those stupid ducks took over his life as well.

The king’s smug smile flashed in front of his eyes, causing him to clench his fists. That idiot was ruining his life, and he didn’t even seem sorry about it. Well, he would be. Alastor would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Having found close to forty tiny ducks in the last hour, Alastor was starting to lose his patience. However, he was laying the facts he had learned out in his head even so. 

One, Lucifer seemed to be helping Niffty out in more ways than one, for whatever reason that might be. If anything, it seemed he was playing wingman - fitting for an angel, one might suppose, and Alastor was not going to begrudge Niffty her happiness.

Two, the king was not quite as helpless and pampered as Alastor had at first supposed, but only at the level of ‘capable of basic household chores’. No congratulations were in order for meeting the bare minimum, after all, but underestimating him could only be foolish.

Three, there was something pathologically wrong with the man’s duck obsession. Previously, Alastor had no opinions either way of ducks. They’d just been another creature in the bayou, and they didn’t seem to care either way when he was going about his business. Now, he positively loathed the creatures. He couldn’t look at them without feeling a flicker of familiarity and irritation.

He dropped the creatures into a jar, and turned on his heel. No matter, he would simply return to his…usual habits. The shadows formed around him, whisking him away to his studio as he leaned into his staff. His brand new, functioning staff, at that.

“Why, hello there, Hell! Your favourite host is back on the airwaves, ready to bring you some entertaining media for once, no begging, pandering, or embarrassing displays of grandeur to be found. Well, with the success of the princess’s hotel on the rise since VoxTek fell on its already flat face, Hell has found itself faced with several opportunities, and many new questions. As an overlord myself, I do wonder whether the powers of my associates might shift if their owned souls ascend to Heaven. Would their influence disappear, or would the contract follow those unfortunate souls to the pearly gates? Something to ponder, dear listeners…Will redemption save a soul already owned?”

Of course, he was wondering the same thing, but he doubted that Husk would want to attempt redemption. Especially now, when more chains than merely Alastor’s bound him to Hell. 

“As for the claims the new head of VoxTek has been making, I can personally assure you that they seemed quite cozy the last time I laid eyes on the pair. But perhaps those eyes were playing tricks on me. It surely would be quite something to start the new era of VoxTek off with more dishonesty, and after all, they’re always saying we should trust them! What do you think, listeners? Well, while you think that over, here’s an old favourite of mine.” 

He waved his fingers, interspersing the soft tune that was beginning to play with the screams under his control. Always a good reminder, with such provoking words. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes with satisfaction and waiting for five minutes.

“Alastor.” Vaggi had a tight smile on her face, the kind she got when she was holding back a substantial amount of rage. “What exactly are you doing up here?”

“A broadcast!” He tilted his head. “How can I help you, my dear?” 

“By not theorising on how an owned soul impacts redemption and inciting the fury of the overlords! What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m merely wondering, as I’m sure many others are. Our newly feathered friend had no such claim on his soul, and so I wonder…so many souls in Hell cannot be called their own, after all. I certainly have a few under my control that I’d rather not lose. Besides, wouldn’t Charlie like to find out before the poor souls she wants to help do?” Alastor grinned as Vaggi clenched her hands into fists.

“Redemption is hard enough as it is without you fucking around like this. Quit it before you get us wrapped up in more of your bullshit. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you pulled recently. I know you used Charlie, and I haven’t forgiven you.”

“If I don’t ask the question, dear Vaggi, someone else will. You need to be prepared for these things. I’m sure you’re very busy with all the new guests, I won’t keep you.” Alastor made a shooing motion as the song came to an end, and saw Vaggi’s look turn murderous. “Oh, don’t worry your head over this. I’m being perfectly civil, aren’t I?”

“You know what you’re doing, asshole.” Vaggi slammed the door behind her, and Alastor shook his head as she did so. Really, for an angel, she had atrocious manners. Aside from Charlie’s little friend, no angel he’d met had good manners anyhow. Perhaps that’s just how they were.

As he was pondering this, a tiny duck fell out of his staff’s microphone, rattling onto the floor and testing his very small amount of remaining patience.

“How.”

It wasn’t surprising that his broadcast attracted attention, but he was surprised to receive an invitation the next day, on beautiful formal card. He and Rosie hadn’t exactly spoken since their deal had fallen to pieces, and there had at least been the agreement that they’d keep the secrets they held. He had no doubt that someone else would be running her errands sooner or later, with all the souls she held. He decided to exercise his recent privilege to ignore her summons, and ignored the several messages landing in his inbox from Velvette. 

Husk, however, tracked him down easily.

“Do you really think redemption could break a contract?” he asked, immediately.

“Oh, Husker. That eager to be rid of our little deal?” Alastor raised an eyebrow, smiling in a way that showed every last tooth. 

Husk scoffed. “I ain’t asking for me. Just answer me. Would it break deals?”

“Frankly, I have no idea. Just as I have no idea if a deal would keep a soul chained in Hell. Redemption is so new to all of us, I wouldn’t have the first idea of how it works. I’m just asking the questions.”

“Figures.” Husk looked down, ears flattening. “What’d you even say that for?”

“Well, I like to consider things from all angles, and I do so love to encourage enquiring minds. Why, if I hadn’t encouraged Charlie herself, who knows where we would be?” 

“Don’t give me that.” Husk shook his head, turning on his heel. “Forget I asked.”

“It would take a lot to break a deal like Angel Dust’s, wouldn’t it?” Alastor said, putting a finger on his chin. “But I don’t think he’ll believe in his own redemption at this rate, do you? Even if we knew it could break a contract, he’d need to think himself worthy of stepping through those doors again. And who knows when that will be?”

“Fuck you.” Husk stepped forward, wings flaring open as he did so. “If I have to wait, I’ll wait. But he will be coming back, and I will be there when he gets past those pearly gates, and you ain’t going to sit there and talk shit about him.”

Alastor tilted his head, eyes glowing. It would be so easy to summon that green chain, and knock Husk down that peg or two he seemed to need, but there was such a thing as low hanging fruit.

“Well, if you want to stay behind the bar for centuries, be my guest. But I’ll say whatever I please, Husker.” He waved his fingers as he continued down the hallway. It wasn’t as though it would go against his interests to have Husker bound by another chain. As easily rattled as the man was, he did have his uses. As many souls as Alastor had, he did have a few he could deem at the very least convenient, and replacing Husk would be bothersome to say the least. Far better to let him run around after Angel Dust than try and ascend to Heaven while he was still useful.

He was humming to himself as he walked along the halls of the hotel when he caught sight of Lucifer’s door cracked open, with that stupid sign outside. Petty as always, but he’d never paid attention to anything he didn’t need to before. He peered inside, and saw the king of all of Hell passed out on his duck bed in his pajamas. 

With the door open, for Hea– Well, Hell’s sake, he supposed. He rolled his eyes. Of course his advice had been wholly ignored. If anything, he shouldn’t have been surprised at the depths of Lucifer’s pride. He took a second to look at Lucifer, and was irritated to notice the bags under his eyes. The king looked exhausted, and it looked as if he’d just collapsed onto the bed. Alastor found himself hesitating outside the door, the irritation only growing before he slammed the door with force.

Well, God forbid that Lucifer himself deign to get sleep like the rest of them. No, instead, he had to pass out in the middle of the day and forget to close his door when the hotel was crawling with fresh sinners who had no reason to trust or like him. Why would he follow Alastor’s advice? He was so…

Alastor’s fists clenched. It was probably something to do with being an angel, but something about him drew the eye. It made Alastor want to get under his skin, needle him until that stupid face of his scrunched up in anger and he lost his temper. It was almost compulsive at this point, but seeing his sleeping face annoyed Alastor in a way he couldn’t quite place. Even as he walked away, he could see the messy hair, the long eyelashes, and the slightly furrowed brow. He had better things to do than obsess over the king’s safety and sleep schedule, but it almost itched at him, the image of Lucifer digging its claws into his mind as he mechanically walked away, one foot in front of the other as the static hissed in the air. The man was a fool, and being even slightly tethered to him made Alastor want to bare his teeth at him.

It wasn’t fair. He’d just shed his chains, every last one, and yet there was one he couldn’t seem to shake. A bright, stupid, easily provoked one who seemed hellbent on annoying him every bit as much as Alastor deliberately annoyed him, and yet who flourished with joy, bright and unavoidable whenever it sparked. Every time he laughed at something stupid, yawned, or tilted his head in confusion, Alastor wanted to sink his claws into something or be able to look away from him, and he didn’t know why. 

He scraped his claws against the wallpaper, leaving a trail behind him as he went. No matter. He’d deal with this in one way or another. 

Chapter Text

Winding up back here was certainly something he hadn’t expected, but in this area, he knew of one person with decades of expertise, and he’d banked on her not turning him away, even if their dynamic had fundamentally changed. However, one social call was unlikely to kill either of them.

“I have to say, Alastor, I’m quite surprised you came back.” Rosie sipped at her tea, the two of them sat in their usual spot. “I’d have thought you’d have given me a wide berth after our deal came to its conclusion. I mean, it’s a shame, really. You were always so…interesting.”

“I imagine finding another errand boy will be difficult, my dear. But you’re one of the more tolerable people I know, when you’re not holding things over the heads of others. I do prefer to be on equal footing, after all.”

“Liar.” Rosie’s mouth quirked upwards. “You like looking down on people, that’s all. No, no, Alastor, I’m really quite glad to see you. As much as I’m sure you’re going to be insufferable from here on out, I’m glad to see you settling into…the swing of things. For all your flaws, you’re truly one of my favourites.”

“How terrifying.” Alastor’s ears pinned back. “I’d rather not be.”

“Oh, come now. Out of all the active overlords, you’re at least tolerable. Why did you come here, anyway? Should I be worried?” She laughs, but there’s a sharpness to it he’d never had to feel before. Perhaps their new relationship will be more equal than when she had him as an unwilling lapdog. Good. He’s tried to never underestimate her, as much as the restraint chafed him, and among the active overlords, she is one he can hold a civil conversation with, should he choose. 

“I wished to…pick your brain, so to speak. You manage all your people and their connections…admirably, I do have to admit that.”

“Oh? Is something troubling you, Alastor?” Rosie raised her eyebrows. “Well, I don’t mind hearing you out. For old times’ sake, at least.”

“Less than fond memories aside, there’s a thorn in my side at the moment.” Alastor raised the teacup to his lips. “How would you deal with wanting to rip someone to shreds every time you look at them?”

“In what way?” Rosie set her own cup down.

Alastor rolled his eyes. “What does that mean? Surely, there’s only the one way.”

“Oh, honey. Have I taught you nothing?” Her voice held some amusement. “There’s the action, sure, but there’s always the driving force. Hatred, hunger, and all those delicious dark feelings that come from instinct. You’ve got to figure out what the root of it all is before you take a step forward, or you’ll get tangled in your own web. That being said, you’ve caught my interest with that. You don’t tend to ask why before you tear something apart.”

“I don’t need to, usually.”

“So what’s different this time? You ask yourself that, and you’ll get right to the centre of the issue. Matters of the heart are always so delicious, don’t you think?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Eh, heart, mind, they both ooze the same blood.” Rosie shrugged. “Anyway, tell me more, as much as you like. I won't pry, but..."

“It’s the vulnerability.” Alastor found himself gripping the teacup. “It’s…every time that fool shows weakness, I want to sink my teeth in. I want to rip into his throat every time he bares it. I can’t bear it. So tell me, Rosie. Do I go with his guts, or mine?”

“Oh. Oh. Oh, honey, you’re in quite the bind there, aren’t you?” Rosie covered her smile with a hand. “Well, never thought I’d see the day. He must be quite the cutie pie.”

“The– What are you blathering on about?” Alastor reeled back. “What do you mean?”

“In good time. I’m not hurrying that train out of the station until you figure it out. Trust me, it’s for your own benefit. Cute one, is he?” 

“What has that got to do with anything?” 

“Well, let me ask you this. Do you want to see him torn to bits, or do you want to be the one to do it? Bear with me here, but if you saw someone else with their claws in this guy, would it bring you that satisfaction, or–” 

The handle of the teacup broke off in Alastor’s hand, the cup itself falling to the floor and shattering there loudly. Rosie didn’t seem to care, laughing as she clicked her fingers and a dustpan leapt to life. 

“Call that a starting point, hm? I can set you on the right path, but I can’t do much else.” 

“I thought I made it perfectly clear–” Alastor stood, his antlers growing as he did, his shadow looming behind him. “I’m done playing your foolish games. Tell me.” The words hissed with static.

“Now, now.” She tutted. “Alastor, if I didn’t respect you, I’d tell you. Consider this a compliment that I’m letting you figure it out yourself. And if you don’t want your prey getting caught in another trap, you better put that ambitious little mind of yours to work, or you might just end up watching him ripped up by someone else. I want you to find your own way. I’m not going to force you into something you’re not ready for. Besides, it’ll be fun to let this unfold.”

He snarled, and felt vines begin to close around his feet as she got that sharp smile on her face, the one he knew all so well. He was testing her patience as much as she was testing his. 

“Less of that. I am being kind, I promise you that.” 

Forcing himself to settle down, he adjusted his lapels. “I don’t see how cryptic hints and provoking me is being kind or helpful in any way. You’re just the same as ever."

“I’m giving you perspective, Alastor, and the advice you asked for. Now, if you’re done making a mess…”

“Fine.” He ground the word out. He’d clearly outstayed his welcome, and in her place he supposed he would have done the same thing. Besides, he’d always known she considered threats impolite, and her gentle warning showed a level of restraint he hadn’t really expected from her. In her way, she seemed to still care about him, however much their twisted deal seeped into their new dynamic, and he supposed that was something to be thankful for. She’d finally fixed his staff, after some nudging, and he knew some of her weaknesses, but she was a bridge that wasn’t worth burning over an irritating conversation. 

“Thank you. Oh, and tell Charlie I said hello, won’t you?” Rosie was all smiles again, all seemingly forgiven. “That girl’s doing so well these days. I’d drop by, but…”

“Of course.” He turned his back, striding out of her emporium. He was partway down the street when he realised she hadn’t used that irritating nickname of hers throughout the conversation. Perhaps there was something to be said for the new level of respect she was displaying, though that gave her words an annoying weight.

He grimaced, teeth showing as he pictured someone else tearing into Lucifer the way he wanted to. She’d hit the nail squarely on the head, as much as he had felt riled and insulted by it. He truly didn’t want that, with a fervor that annoyed him almost as much as the king of Hell himself did on a daily basis.

“It’s always about the right time with that woman,” he hissed. “Always withholding, always acting like everything is one big game with all of this–” He snapped the head off a nearby rose, crumpling it in his fist, letting the petals fall bruised and broken onto the ground below. 

It was not too long later when a sleek, smart car pulled up alongside him and a shiny window rolled down, revealing a diminutive figure with an expression as annoyed as his. 

“You really do like causing shit, don’t you?” Her tone was less combative than her words. “You’re lucky Val’s too busy to take his tantrum to you directly, or you’d be fucked.”

“Ah, Velvette. Running errands again?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. At least Val’s nicer about it than fucking Vox. We’ve been hiring, firing, and then you go and pull that little contract stunt. He wants you to put out a retraction about him and Vox, and I quote, ‘or bring me his fucking antlers’.”

“Oh, my dear, we both know that he and Vox have an intimate relationship. Don’t fool yourself into thinking that all of Hell doesn’t know it, either.”

“Had.” Velvette opened the door, stepping out. “I’d have called, but your stubborn arse refuses to own a cellphone, and tracking you down with Vox’s cameras is annoying to do. Lucky for you, I’m capable of it and I got Val to agree to me taking care of this. I don’t care if you retract it or not, but don’t fucking bring that shit up.”

“Are you really in a position to demand these things?” Alastor smiled down at her, condescendingly. 

“You’re making shit on my end difficult, fucker. But you can’t goad me, remember? I don’t hate you like Val, and I’m sure as shit not obsessed with you like Vox is. I’m already stuck in a tower with the world’s stupidest break up, and I can do without you stirring the pot. Just give me some time before you start speculating, and I’ll…” She paused. “Well, I’m not stupid enough to shake your hand, but give me your terms and I’ll see what I can do. I’m not falling into your trap. I’m too busy, thanks to you and that stupid little stuck up princess.” 

Alastor considered it, turning it over in his head. It would be so easy to twist this in his favour, and he did so like twisting the knife. He also couldn’t consider Velvette’s current woes anything but just desserts, but she was offering him quite the opportunity, and one that was tantalisingly open-ended

“One week.” Velvette held up a finger. “A week to put out this fucking shitshow of a fire, and then you can do whatever you want. I just need a fuckin’ break.”

“And what do I get in return?”

“What do you want?” Velvette glared at him. “Nothing stupid.”

“...How about a week of silence for a week of updates on your little friend’s star actor? My friends have been ever so worried, and I’d like to ease their minds. A small price to pay for your peace of mind, I’m sure. Otherwise, I’m sure my personal experiences might be of interest to my listeners. It must already be so hard to try and rebuild your image after nearly destroying the city, hm?” 

Velvette rolled her eyes with a look of disgust. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I can do that. How the fuck am I supposed to give that to you if you won’t own a fucking phone, though?”

“Not to worry, my dear. I have people for that. I’ll have you contacted when I’m ready for your updates, if that’s amenable?”

“Whatever. Speak of your people, tell your fucking maid that she’s dead the next time I see her. And that fucking traitor brat she runs around with.” Velvette got back in the car with that parting shot, slamming the door before it sped off. Alastor narrowed his eyes as he watched it retreat. 

Well, the threat didn’t exactly warm his heart, but he’d be sure to tell Niffty to humiliate Velvette properly at the next opportunity. It was entertaining that Velvette was still acting as though she was in any position to make demands after the stunts she’d been along for the ride for, but he supposed it was easier for her to fake it until she made it. At least dealing with her rather than Valentino was a small blessing.

Besides, he could use the distraction of this little twist at the moment. Far be it from him to turn down the benefits of whatever domestic disputes had driven Velvette to such lengths as to bargain with him. 

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long to find Husk within the hotel. As usual, he had the creature he’d insisted on looking after with him, and was prying a bright red lipstick out of its mouth as it tried to eat it. Really, he could have just left the thing to Cherri, but he supposed all that Husk would have left if he did would be a bar and its unruly customers. He strolled towards him, spinning his cane before leaning forward on it, taking a little pride in the way Husk immediately picked the pig up, flaring his wings defensively.

“I have a present for you,” Alastor sing-songed. “I know you’ve been distracted, but I just need you to do something for me, Husker, and you’ll get your reward.” 

“That’s sketchy as all hell.” Husk cradled Fat Nuggets with narrowed eyes. “What the hell do you want?”

“I made a little bargain in your favour! Wasn’t that kind of me?” Alastor grinned at him, slow and steady. “Now, what I want you to do is keep a close eye on the king and let me know if anyone seems to be…making unwise decisions. Things could be quite precarious if someone decides to test his limits, and Charlie already has so much on her plate. Truly, think of it as a favour for the hotel.”

Husk rolled his eyes. “I’m playin’ babysitter?” 

“No, you’re taking responsibility as the person serving the alcohol. Now, for your reward…If you text this number, you’ll be getting some updates on your absent friend for the next week. It’s up to you, of course, but I’ve agreed not to mention the details of Vox and Valentino’s little relationship for a week, and we’ll get updates on the little spider for that span of time. No need to thank me, dear fellow.”

“You…” Husk’s eyes went wide. “Motherfucker. You motherfu–” 

“I’m asking for very little in return, am I not? Velvette asked me for a week, and I asked for one in return.”

“Talking to those fuckers like they’re not holding him hostage? Fuck you, Alastor. Whatever the fuck you went through in their tower, he’s been goin’ through it longer, and you want to take a peek at that like it’s any of your goddamn business? Last thing he needs is you invading his privacy. I ain’t doing this with you, not over him.”

The mention of his time as a hostage grated against his patience. Necessary as it had been, it hadn’t been enjoyable, and once more his hands itched to grab at the green chain of Husk’s soul and bring him to heel. It took a great deal of restraint not to do so.

“I’ll leave the decision with you, Husker, but do try to mind your tongue. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to it, after all. You won’t get any updates unless you text that number, and…” 

The desire to say something cruel left him as he saw Husk’s dangerously defensive expression. Provoking a confrontation he would need to put an end to wouldn’t be any fun. Instead he simply smiled at him, sharp teeth on show.

“The ball’s in your court, old friend.” He slipped into the shadows, and rolled his eyes once he reappeared in his room, safe within its familiar silence. Always the dramatic bursts of anger from that one, moral stances at the most inconvenient times. He sat in his chair, drumming his fingers on the arm of it and looking into the fire.

For all Rosie had acted as though it was a hypothetical, he’d seen Lucifer ripped up by someone else, and hadn’t given it too much thought at the time. But now, thanks to her questions, he had the example to think over, and he did not like it one bit. Ichor seeping out from his clothes, staining them, as he fell to the floor, still holding it together, that stubborn pride of his holding out to the very end. 

If Vox’s head hadn’t been ripped from his shoulders by that overgrown butterfly, Alastor might, in his current mood, have done it himself. That presumptuous, pompous prick had gotten most of what was coming to him, but if he ever resurfaced and tried to step back up to his hollow throne of sycophants and screens, Alastor would happily knock him back down. His grudges against the man had grown and twisted, and there was less of a game in it now. He wanted to shatter the man into wires and glass for what he’d done.

Destroying Hell over his need to best Alastor was foolish enough, but something about those garish claws sinking into Lucifer when he had no right to do so made Alastor want to find what Vox called a throat and rip it open. Alastor had more right to reduce Lucifer to a crushed heap on the ground than–

He groaned. Damn that woman. She always knew how to unravel his calm and leave him spiralling. He ought to have taken pleasure in seeing Lucifer humbled, his blood dripping upon the ground. Pride ought to come before a fall. But if Lucifer fell further than he already had, Alastor wanted to be the one to push him. The thought of anyone else doing so made something dark and unpleasant twist within him, and he saw his shadow snarl along the walls before he called it back, eyeing it up.

“Less of–” 

It vanished, and he cursed. The thing could be unruly at times, as aligned to him as it was, and he felt the tug of it as it whisked itself away from him. He let the others seep into him, pulling him along and hot on its tail. 

He found himself in the lobby, and straightened his tie before spotting it standing next to Lucifer (because of course the fool was ignoring his advice again) who was sat at the bar with a drink in hand, seemingly unaware of the shadow baring its teeth at the nearest guests, who were backing off. He wrapped a hand around the long line between his shadow and himself, giving a sharp pull to bring it back, and it snapped back to be just behind him. However, he distinctly heard it hiss at him.

“What are you playing at?” he snapped at it, retreating to a corner under the stairs. “You…” He couldn’t think of the best words even to scold it, and the shadow growled at him again, before making an escape attempt, trying to lurch back towards Lucifer.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’ve had your fun.” He stood on its tail, annoyed at the energy he was having to exert. “You are staying put.”

He felt his annoyance grow as he realised that it almost looked like the damn thing was being protective to the point of being territorial, and all over a stupid, vulnerable angel who couldn’t be bothered to listen to Alastor for more than a few days. No, instead he was sat at the bar, sipping a cocktail that Husk had likely made for him, as if he wasn’t being eyed up by all of Hell. He could see one or two sinners glancing his way, even after his shadow had been daring anyone to come close. No doubt even with redemption on the platter, some would ironically be driven by temptation to test what Vox had already proven. 

His shadow growled again, though not at him, teeth baring in their hidden corner as it extended its claws.

“You will not interfere,” he ground out. “There is no need to save him from his own recklessness and pride.”

Still, he found himself watching as Husk sloped back to the bar, and different sinners approached. Husk handed the pig carefully to Lucifer, who seemed happy to fuss over the wretched thing in between sips of whatever drink he’d chosen. Sinners came and went, ordering their drinks, some sitting at the bar and some retreating to their rooms with a glass in hand. Among those who sat at the bar, some would look at Lucifer, eyeing him up, while others ignored him completely. 

One sinner leaned over, and struck up a conversation, which seemed to take Lucifer and Husk both by surprise. Alastor watched closely as they went back and forth, Lucifer giving short answers and looking away as though he wasn’t quite sure about the conversation, Husk rolling his eyes now and then. The sinner waved before strutting away, and Alastor waved a hand at his shadow.

“See? He’ll be fine.”

The shadow rolled its eyes at him, but subsided. Alastor walked out and made his way up the stairs, his gaze being drawn back to the king as he did so. Seeing the way his fingers moved, sparks glowing between them as he looked around, before lowering his head and continuing to fuss over the pig.

Alastor swiftly turned, walking back in the direction of his room. He would not be drawn in by a bird with a broken wing, he told himself firmly. He’d put precautions in place, and he would not be controlled by his shadow or by expressions of discomfort that he had warned Lucifer about in the first place. 

No matter how much part of him wanted to pull the king into the shadows and take him back to that duck covered monstrosity of a room.

Chapter Text

To give the smallest amount of credit where it was barely due, Lucifer did seem to at least be trying to listen to Alastor’s advice. It seemed, after a few days, that there was a pattern. He would come down to the lobby for about an hour, spending some time in the open, before disappearing in a flash of flame-like light. 

Other than that, he was keeping out of the way for the most part, and judging by Niffty’s increased free time, still doing the night shift of the laundry. More often than not, Alastor would wander past his room (that thankfully seemed to have the door shut when he did) and make his way inside to find Lucifer sleeping at his desk, his latest project surrounding him in bits and pieces. 

Today, as Alastor strolled by on one of the lower balconies, he spotted Lucifer talking with one of the residents. No, he realised, after a moment of observation, the demon was talking at Lucifer, who was wearing an expression of discomfort, while Husk had narrowed his eyes, though clearly listening in. He let himself tune in to the conversation, straining his ears above the general hubbub of the lobby.

“--and then, turns out that you can’t even smite us? Man, you kept that one under your hat, right?” 

“Haha…yeah…” Lucifer edged backwards. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“No need to be shy! We’ve got to be on our best behaviour or whatever to get up to what remains of the pearly gates, y’know. I mean, I guess not you, you’re still stuck down here with the rest of us, but still.”

Lucifer’s face flashed with hurt that he immediately tried to hide, not bothering to reply to that, while Husk’s face grew increasingly more pissed off. And yet still, that damn cat didn’t step in. Alastor’s fingers gripped the rail of the balcony tightly. It was none of his business. None of his business whatsoever. 

“Guess it’s lucky not everyone can afford angelic steel, huh?” The sinner laughed. “Nah, I’m just kidding, don’t worry. I’m sure Carmine’s not going to be giving up any of her stock any time soon after that disaster. Hey, is it true that Vox plugged you full of wires–”

Alastor’s shadow was looming behind Lucifer with a mouthful of teeth before he could stop it, a terrifying thing of antlers, claws, and threats, and the demon fell off the stool with a yelp. Lucifer spun around, seeing the seething thing almost growling behind him.

“...Red guy?” he said, sounding confused. 

“I, uh, well–” the demon sputtered.

Alastor materialised beside the sinner. “Well now, where are my manners? A pleasure to meet you, quite a pleasure!” He gripped the demon’s hand with a little more force than necessary. “Tell me, are you enjoying yourself?”

“No! No, I, um–” The terrified demon tried to back away. “I was…”

“Oh, that won’t do! Well, I am sure we can find something to entertain you somewhere in the hotel. Perhaps one of our workshops, or some of our many amenities. After all, as the host of the hotel, I do try to keep everyone entertained. You could always be a guest on my broadcast, if you so chose…”

The veiled threat went over Lucifer’s head, but Husk’s eyes snapped towards him in pure disbelief, and the sinner’s eyes went wide with horror.

“I do believe there’s a workshop on good manners going on down the corridor in the third meeting room,” Alastor said, softly. “Perhaps you’d find it intriguing.”

“Yep! Yes, that sounds– You know, I think I meant to go to that, I guess I’m late!” The demon laughed nervously. “Yep, this is me, going!” 

He scrambled away, Alastor watching with no small amount of satisfaction, while Lucifer frowned in deep confusion.

“What the fuck was that about?” he asked. “And why’s your…” He pointed to the shadow, which was sticking to him like glue. “Why’s it doing this again?”

“...Sire, what exactly do you mean by again?” Alastor asked, a burst of static cracking free as Husk took a step back. 

“Well, you know, like when you send it to bug me when I’m doing the laundry. And if I can just say, it’s doing a pretty bad job. In fact, it’s better company than you.” Lucifer grinned as though he’d scored a point. “You’ll have to do better than that, Bambi.” 

“Noted.” Alastor’s smile went wide, a dark and dangerous anger coiling like a snake within him as Husk very pointedly didn’t look at him, cleaning a glass as though nothing had happened. Well, it seemed that he at least knew what was good for him. Alastor inclined his head mock-politely to Lucifer, and vanished in a swirl of shadows, retreating away to the safety of a corridor near his own tower. He knew that most tended to avoid it, and it gave him the privacy necessary to grab his shadow by its tail.

“In my sleep?” he hissed as it tried to yank itself free. “You have been cozying up to Lucifer in my sleep?” 

The shadow did not seem penitent, more annoyed, and Alastor tightened his grip. 

“He does not need your company, you wretched thing, and he certainly did not need treating like a damsel–” 

The shadow swirled, changing form into a mimicry of Alastor, claws digging into a shadowy banister, a second splitting off it to show a shadowy image of Lucifer with a sorrowful expression on his face, before the shades dispersed once more. 

Alastor gritted his teeth. His face rarely showed his emotions, it was true. It was a great asset. His shadow, however, reacted to such emotions with such openness that he sometimes loathed the creature. It did allow him to act as though he controlled it, as though it was subject to his whim, but while he could grasp and use it, and while they were in a way of one mind, it often reacted so quickly that he had no chance to stop it. Sometimes, he rather liked its companionship, the way it grinned at people he found entertaining, sharing the joke with him, and sometimes, he allowed it its freedom to do as it pleased. In combat, they moved in perfect sync, letting Alastor send his powers through a willing conduit and have a means of escape from situations where he lost the advantage.

But this was beyond the pale.

“I do not care how he feels,” he hissed at the shadow. “And I won’t have you protecting him and dragging my reputation with you. And you are not to sneak off when I sleep.” 

The shadow rolled its eyes, waving its hands until they formed the image of an angel singing along to radio while a smaller version of the shadow hovered nearby. 

“He will get the wrong idea,” Alastor said, eventually. “Besides, Husker would have stepped in had things got out of hand. He would have been safe from physical harm. He does not need you.”

The shadow hissed, dissipating back into the pool with the rest of the shades. Likely, it would sulk for a time, but that was perfectly fine by Alastor. The wretched thing could, in that regard, do as it liked.

He was in his studio, fine tuning his equipment and tidying the place up slightly when Husk knocked on the door.

“Boss.”

“Husker, my dear fellow! What brings you here?” Alastor straightened up, turning around sharply. He could see that Husk was hesitating, as though weighing something up. Perhaps he had reconsidered the offer of Velvette’s information, but he seemed a little too tense for that.

“Nothing you’re gonna like,” Husk said, leaning against the frame. “I just need to ask you some questions.”

“Hmm.” Alastor’s mouth became a thin line, a ghost of a smile. “Well, I shan’t promise any answers, but you may always ask.”

“Sure. Listen, about earlier…”

“Oh, nothing to worry about there. Simply lending a helping hand as the–”

“Alastor, if you say host of the hotel, I am going to be way more honest with you than either of us wants me to be.” Husk’s claws dug into the frame. “I ain’t taking that right now. You want me to keep an eye on him, and I want to know why. It ain’t for Charlie. You wouldn’t do that for her. And nothin’ was getting out of hand, just someone being nosy and rude. He would have told them to stop if he needed to, and if that guy had gone much further I would have told him to fuck off. I was reaching my limit as it was. But Lucifer’s been down here longer than any of us, and he knows the deal. He knows people are fuckin’ assholes, and he’s out on the floor anyway. So why’d you do it?” 

“Insolence is a terrible trait, my friend.” Alastor narrowed his eyes, the smile on his face sharpening like a knife.

“We ain’t friends, Alastor, but whatever the fuck you’re doing, you’re showing your hand. I just want to know what game you’re playing.” Husk rolled his eyes. “And you don’t make mistakes. Usually.” 

The feedback crackled in the air, but Husk held a hand up. 

“I don’t usually give you advice, Alastor, but you could at least tell me what the deal is with you two.”

“He’s entertaining, and I don’t enjoy people spoiling my fun.” Alastor swept an arm out, dramatically. “Here I am, as free as a bird, not a chain to be found, and there he is, pretending as though his chains weren’t put on display. It really is so…amusing, to see him swanning about still, but it would be quite drab if some stranger were to step into the ring. I’d prefer to see him struggle on his own merit.”

“Fuck.” Husk’s eyes went wide. “Oh, fuck. Okay, uh, well, good talk.”

“Any time.” Alastor rolled his eyes, watching as Husk left at a rapid pace. What an insipid conversation that had been. Pressing and invasive, to boot. Why should it matter to Husk what games Alastor was playing with the king of Hell? It was mere entertainment during a long existence that stretched before him. Others might come here for redemption, but Alastor was right where he wanted to be. Heaven held nothing for him, whereas Hell? 

Oh, it truly was delightful, sometimes. His latest interest was merely that - the latest in a long line of games he played, the dealer at the table watching despair befall the players who came to him. Lucifer Morningstar was simply amusing, that was all, and Alastor did not wish to be bored. That was all. 

He paused, hand stopping before it touched a dial as the memory of Lucifer’s pained face at the mention of what Vox had done to him flashed across his mind. That, for whatever reason, had not entertained him. No, it had been infuriating in a way he did not find pleasant. His shadow may have darted forward to scare the unfortunate demon, but he himself had not liked it to begin with. 

Lucifer was a fool, whose emotions were plain to see, and it irked Alastor. How could one live for so long, be regarded as the original deceiver, and still have no way to hide how he felt? It was infuriating, and yet what was more infuriating to him was the interloper in their game who had caused the expression to befall the king in the first place. It made no sense, and he elected to ignore it, for now. He would simply have to try and persuade the king again to keep his distance from the people he supposedly ruled. Yes, that felt like the right path. He took a deep breath, turning the dial, and starting the music flowing through the airwaves.

All would be well.

Chapter Text

Two days previously. 

Lucifer did like music while he worked. 

It had always been the case, no matter what he was making, and there was a thrill to every instrument, seeing each one come into being. When the kazoo had been invented, he’d laughed about it for a week. Music had continued to flourish, no matter where, no matter when, and it relaxed his mind from the chaotic swirl of thoughts it was prone to.

He liked what he called current music, but given his lifespan, the term wouldn’t have been applied to his tastes by anyone other than a handful of people who shared his longevity. He liked a great deal of classical music, but what he considered modern music was…well, varied. The second thing was that he might have fiddled with the radio to catch some of the more earthly broadcasts.

A tiny bit.

Well, it wasn’t as though Alastor had shown any interest in it. Not that he’d expected him to, he’d just been proud of it. The radio’s installation had less to do with Alastor and more to do with the fact that he’d been left with a distinct distaste for television that had made it supremely hard to enjoy his usual dramas, always expecting the same face to flicker on screen, to gleefully string him up by his wings or to send him plummeting back into despair. Nothing had stopped it, not yet.

He hadn’t told Charlie. He knew that she was doing fantastically at setting up a team of counselors, but by necessity those counselors were sinners. He’d been working on making some sort of therapy animal, weighted and comforting, but he couldn’t get it quite right or figure out what kind of creature would make him happiest.

The TV guy probably would have been delighted to know that he’d joined Lucifer’s already expansive collection of nightmares, but Lucifer had flipped the script on his nightmares efficiently by finding a new and useful way to exhaust himself. He’d been wandering around one night and found the light on, coming in to find the little maid scurrying around with surprisingly big piles of laundry, muttering about how icky and gross they were with the biggest smile on her face. He’d come in quietly, and she’d been happy to see him, and he’d started helping. 

He didn’t mind her, and she didn’t mind him, and they’d gotten to talking, and now….well, he supposed they were sort of friends, and he did the laundry at night. She seemed to be enjoying her free time, and Charlie had encouraged him to make new friends. Besides, he’d only messed up on the first night. Now, he was getting pretty practised at the whole thing, and it was soothing to have something to do.

A dark shape flickered into view, and he rolled his eyes. This guy again. 

“You know, you’re really bad at this whole harassment thing.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me if you just stand there.”

It tilted its head as though listening, and Lucifer waved a hand, upping the volume of the radio as it played something more upbeat.

“Now, this is a classic. Better than anything you play on your tacky show. Though I guess it’s not really a night time thing for you?” Lucifer flapped upwards, humming along as the music began to play, the instruments climbing up and then receding, over and over again before the tempo upped, falling back to the same pattern, whimsical and brash. The shadow merely watched.

“Huh, you’re much better company when you’re quiet!” Lucifer laughed as he swooped around to the higher machines, swooping in time with the music before it faded out. The shadow peered over at the radio, as if curious.

“I told you you’d like it.” Lucifer felt smug for just a moment. “Anyway, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve got a job to do. If you have to be here, stay in that corner.” He pointed, and the shadow went to the opposite corner. Figures.

“This takes me back, actually. Back when Charlie was little, I tried to do a lot of stuff myself. You never think that having kids is going to be as chaotic as it is, but hey, you live and learn. And wow, she was a handful. Used to set things on fire when she had a tantrum! Sooooo cute. And those horns of hers when she was little, they used to pack a punch.” He waved a hand. “Magic only gets you so far, anyway. Hey, what kind of music do you play on your broadcasts anyway?”

The shadow grinned, and terrified screams shrieked out of the radio, sobbing and wailing. Lucifer rolled his eyes.

“Real funny. I said music, not whatever twisted shit that was.”

Another flicker of shadow, and the station changed to soft swaying music, crackling slightly. Lucifer was surprised to find he knew it, humming along as the music danced gracefully through the intro and towards the chorus.

“Stars shining bright above you…” He tilted his head, trailing off as the vocals kicked in fully. “I mean, your taste is usually shit, but hey, broken clocks.” He closed his eyes, appreciating the music as it flowed, and went back to pulling the dry laundry out of the machine as the tune filled the silent air. Usually Alastor would have responded to his taunts, but maybe he’d picked up on the fact that Lucifer didn’t exactly like silence. When it fell, he tended to feel the aching loneliness expand into it. Music…well, music was good. 

He continued to hum, folding sheets and clothes, snagging anything that was torn for Niffty’s mending pile as the song faded into another, and another, finding no inclination to change the station as he worked. 

Okay, maybe he could make allowances for Alastor’s musical taste.

Tonight.

That shadow hadn’t shown up tonight. Alastor must have gotten bored, he supposed. The man was easily entertained, easily bored, annoying mercurial and full of the worst kind of surprises. All the shadow had done was set the music, skulk in the corner, and be weirdly pleasant company. Perhaps it had been leading up to it being taken away and leaving Lucifer alone in the laundry room again. 

He refuses to allow such pathetic attempts to rile him work. 

He doesn’t change the radio station, though.

Once he was done (and had sorted the mending pile out for Niffty to attend to as she likes to in the morning) he turned the radio off, the silence uncomfortable somehow. He returned to his room, and the quiet followed him as it always did.

Aside from Alastor berating him about his relative weakness, they hadn’t really spoken about the ordeal, and he’d specifically deflected Charlie’s attempts to approach the subject. He didn’t want to tell her that Vox used her voice to lure him in, or to explain how humiliating it was to be strung up. The way he felt learning that his power had been used to attack Heaven, how they’d always told him he would, the way he never had or even wanted to. The way that Vox had used him to validate the way that the angels feared him, the way that they’d named the weapon after his wife as if to pour salt in an ever-gaping wound.

And he definitely, definitely didn’t want to tell her of his latest habit. 

It’s not that he doesn’t think he’s good enough any more, and it’s certainly not because he’s angry. He’s just tired. Tired of waiting, tired of feeling like one half of a whole all on his own. 

He sloped through the door, and took his ring off, dropping it in a small purple dish next to the door. He knew exactly when he gave up hope she was coming back. It hadn’t been in the egg-shaped prison, or when he’d crawled his way out of the ground to collapse. It hadn’t even been when he’d fallen asleep, bruised and broken in the sheets.

No, it had been when he’d woken up, and felt no need to call her. No need to check the messages he’d sent. When the last bit of hope for the two of them finally died. Not with a bang, but with a whisper. An unfitting end for their explosive relationship. She’d always accused him of giving up, and this time he had tried so hard not to do so. 

He’d left countless voicemails telling her about the hotel, about Charlie, slowly removing himself from the narrative. He’d stopped begging, starting waiting, holding on to a hope that struggled to be allowed to die, and finally, it had done so in a small, small moment. He wore his ring when Charlie could see him, but in the privacy of his room, he allowed himself to be honest in a way that wouldn’t hurt his daughter. The one pride of his that he could safely say was not a sin, the one who had saved Heaven and Hell both. 

He wouldn’t hurt her with this. He’d decided as soon as he’d finally accepted it that Charlie could never know. Not until he and Lilith could tell her together.

If they ever did.

He was sat in the lounge with KeeKee the next day, idly petting her and watching Charlie and her girlfriend rush around separately in a complicated dance to keep things flowing smoothly. They worked so well together that it was quite heartwarming to see. His little girl was in her element, happy, in love, and had everything that he'd ever wanted for her. And hey, he was just happy to be here to see it.

“Hey!” The maid popped up next to him, wielding a knife. This, he was unfortunately used to by now.

“Hey…uh…you!”

“You’re really bad with names!” She giggled. “It’s Niffty. I wanted to say thank you for the pie!” She clambered up him (again, something he’s grown regrettably used to), sitting on the back of the couch with her legs dangling over.

“Ah! Well, it so happens I have something for you, actually! To say thank you for the…well, you know.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a tiny white case with an apple on it. “Charlie’s girlfriend said your bugs had a band, and I thought you– they– might like this?” 

Niffty opened the case to reveal the tiny golden violin, and gasped with genuine delight, before stashing it somewhere, twirling her weapon around as she scanned the floor, likely looking for the bugs she tended to pursue single-mindedly. As he turned his attention back to KeeKee, a hand landed on Lucifer’s shoulder, and he looked up with a frown for the briefest of seconds into the eyes of one of the guests, who was grinning as though he'd won something. He tried to square his shoulders and suppress a little roll of revulsion, before Niffty swiftly stabbed the sinner through the hand. (He hadn't even seen her move.)

The scream cut through the lobby, and Niffty cackled as KeeKee’s tail growled in the sinner’s direction.

“Got one!” she said, before jumping down, scampering away as Charlie’s girlfriend flew over, landing easily and trying to check what had happened with the swearing guest. Lucifer doffed his hat briefly to…Maggie? He was certain it was Maggie, but he wasn’t quite sure, and wasn’t going to risk it. 

“Sir, what just happened?” 

“Uh…I think…Miffy saw a bug?” he said, trying to sound innocent. “I mean, I would have stopped her if I could, but, you know me. I’m not allowed to interfere with sinners.” He let his tongue poke out at the sinner in question when Charlie’s girlfriend turned to the guy, and when he snarled, Lucifer quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That bitch–”

“Woah, there, no need to get testy! I have it on good authority that abuse of hotel staff is not acceptable, my guy.” He turned back to Charlie’s girlfriend. “I’ll go see if I can find…Nancy–”

“Niffty.”

“Yeah! And see if she can tell us what happened! I’m sure she’d be happy to offer this hands-some guy here an apology and tell us everything, if he’s willing to wait.” 

He doesn’t miss the way that the guy goes pale. Good.

“It was…an accident.” The guest held his hands up, including the bleeding one. “I’ll just…Yeah, I’m going to my room.”

Okay, Lucifer owed that maid another apple pie. He breathed out, feeling a little less cornered, and spotted her behind the bar, doing her best to hide while still cackling. When Charlie’s girlfriend frowned in the guest’s direction, looking puzzled, he gave the maid a wink and a thumbs up, which made her squeak with laughter and disappear under the bar. Strangely, the bartender (Flask? Hank? Something with a ‘k’ at the end, he was certain) seemed to be wearing a grin as well. Odd.