notes.)
There were, it had to be said, an excessive amount of radios in the hotel. That was Lucifer's opinion anyway and he thought most demons would agree with him, with Alastor as the obvious outlier. Alastor would probably argue with great eloquence and ferocity that there should be moreradios in the hotel; what was a bathroom without a radio tucked into one corner for easy listening while bathing, how could one properly utilize a walk-in closet without the dulcet tones of jazz driving one to wakefulness and a fresh start on a new day!
Yeah, probably better not to bring up the excess of radios unless he wanted everyone at the hotel to end up with one strapped to their ankle or something.
There was a radio in his bedroom and probably a few back at the palace, at least one in his workshop, but Lucifer hadn't made a point of ever listening to any until recently. Look, if you couldn't get a full orchestra installed into your front room then the only real way to listen to music was vinyl and he'd fight that to the death. But eh, that was slightly less convenient than radio and for some unspoken reason, Lucifer found himself listening a little more often.
There wasn't a plethora of offerings: jazz was always on the table, obviously, and at least one channel listed itself as 'oldies' but there didn't seem to be a limit to how far back it went, he'd heard everything from Gregorian chants to Ska.
One channel he'd stumbled across held only the bellowing shout of some kind of evangelist, screaming about 'Atonement!' and 'the blood of the lamb!'. Weird shit like that, like it was getting beamed down from a Southern revival tent. He wasn't sure if it was a station in Hell, if Heaven was transmitting their radio signals down here or if somehow a station in the Living World found a way to broadcast through the void. Didn't matter, Lucifer didn't have any interest in listening to that crap and he'd spun the dial so fast he nearly wrenched the damn thing off.
What he hadn't ever listened to on the radio was Alastor, not before coming to the hotel, not even after they'd started sleeping together. Which, seemed kind of rude, right? Was it rude? Obviously, radio was one of Alastor's chief interests, the whole 'radio' part of Radio Demon was a pretty damn big clue and Lucifer might've been a shitty husband but even he knew it was important to pay attention to the interests of your…your…
It was important to pay attention, that was all.
So he was a little ashamed it hadn't occurred to him to listen to Alastor's little hotel special edition before Charlie asked. He should've been first in line, probably, should've told Alastor that he'd be listening. Admittedly, he'd been a little distracted by the bruises left behind after someone tried to slap Alastor's face off—
(someone who was going to pay, oh, yes, there was plenty of time left in the universe for that, time)
—but he still could've said. If Alastor was upset that he didn't say anything, it sure didn't show. That was par for the course with him, sometimes Lucifer swore he'd have better luck interpreting Alastor's inner feelings with a Ouija board than trusting his own instincts.
Well, Lucifer could still make it up to him. Listen in and tell Alastor later how great it was. Or, uh, discreetly not mention any new mental scarring, bit of a tossup there, depending on how the show went.
He could've listened on the radio in their bedroom and the temptation was certainly there. To lie on their bed with Alastor's pillow in his arms, breathing in the smell of him while the sound of that radio-husky voice poured through the air like warm syrup…yeah, that was exactly why Lucifer wasn't listening in the bedroom.
The parlor was a much better choice if he actually wanted to hear anything Alastor said and not just absorb the sound of his voice like some kind of overly needy sponge.
So. Parlor.
Lucifer hadn't been back to the parlor since the combo late-night card game and public embarrassment. He squinted up at the ceiling fan consideringly; there was some memory about it that wasn't quite clear, something that happened or happened to it, he wasn't sure. He shrugged and let it go, there would be time to decide later if it was worth possible extra trauma by asking someone else about it.
'Parlor' was kind of a weird name for it, but 'living room' wasn't a popular term in Hell and Staff Room seemed weirdly impersonal. If there was one thing Charlie didn't want, it was impersonal relationships, so parlor it was.
The furniture in the parlor was starting to get a sort of comfortable shabbiness, there was a stain on one corner of the rug of dubious origins and a mostly ignored television pushed up against the wall. An old-timey tombstone radio was on one of the bookshelves, surrounded by books with titles ranging from 'Creative Activities for Group Therapy' to 'Pornography Through the Ages'. Pictures were scattered around, group photos where at least seventy percent of the subjects were smiling, candid shots from the bar and family dinners, solo shots where not even Husk was flipping off the camera. It all came together to make the parlor feel like a room people liked spending time in and there was a certain pleasure in that, a kernel of warmth inside Lucifer when he looked around and took it all in. There were no rooms in the palace that looked like anyone truly enjoyed being in them, not even his own workshop.
Lucifer's preferred seat was one of the squashy armchairs and he moved the radio to the table next to it. He wasn't actually sure what station number Alastor's broadcast came from so the plan was to go searching at eleven sharp.
He was just settling in to wait when the door swung open and Angel came inside. He halted in surprise, glancing cautiously around the room, which was fair. Lucifer didn't spend much time in here alone. He'd spent enough time alone, thanks, and these days even his morning coffee and paper were taken in the bar.
Angel must've decided he wasn't interrupting and slouched down to lean against the sofa back. "Whatcha doin' in here, Papa Diablo."
"Still can't call me daddy," Lucifer told him with amused exasperation, shaking his head. "I'm getting ready to listen to Alastor's radio show."
"You?" There was a wealth of dubiousness in that single word, a veritable fortune. "Didn't think you went for that gruesome stuff."
Gruesome? That wasn't a word commonly used to describe a radio program, but it was Alastor. Maybe he should've done a little research before agreeing to this. "You've heard his show?"
"Nah," Angel shrugged and crawled over the back of the sofa, sprawling out, "but every time it gets brought up, it's like we get this flashback montage of how spooky-scary he is, takin' down overlords and shit. If he was like that before, he sure don't show it now. Guy is a little 'voodoo that you do' but he don't treat Husk like complete shit and he cooks a hell of a good meal. Smiles is okay for a, ya know, a psycho freak asshole." He gave Lucifer a sheepishly apologetic look, "No offense."
"None taken." It was hard to be offended when Alastor himself would probably preen over what he perceived as a compliment. "Today's broadcast is supposed to be an advertisement for the hotel."
"Oh, well, I am definitely sittin' in on this." Angel shifted to prop his long legs up on the arm; whoever coined the term 'legs for miles' must've had someone like Angel in mind. "I saw the commercial he made a while back, there's no way I'm missing him in his prime."
A commercial? That was unexpected, considering Alastor's distaste for television and was that actually about TV or was it because of who was associated with it? Not a question he was ever going to get answered, Lucifer was sure, but he could add it to the mental list.
"How was the commercial?" Lucifer asked reluctantly.
"Complete shit show," Angel said promptly.
Perfect. Exactly what he wanted to hear.
The old-fashion clock in the corner let out its tinny chime marking eleven and immediately the dial on the radio started turning on its own, scrolling through static and stations. One semi-clear word came through, a loud 'repent!' but the dial kept moving until it hit a jazzy little instrumental.
Well, that was convenient if a little creepy. "Do you have any idea who the guest could be?"
"Eh, depends on how much asshole he's feelin' today."
Jazz melted into static and then Alastor's voice came through.
"Salutations! To all my loyal listeners, welcome to the show! Let's bypass the gristle and dive right into the meat. Now, I know some of you were concerned about the terrible loss of signal at Triple Vee's two nights ago." A canned audience let out a collective 'awwwww' about the Vee's misfortune and Alastor's voice dropped to a more intimately conversational pitch, "Such a shame! I couldn't begin to conjecture about their issues, but as a reminder, I myself delight in being the focal point of your lives, here daily for your listening pleasure. Tune in, plenty of fun left to come!"
Papers briefly rustled before Alastor's voice returned.
"Now, for today's weather, we are looking at hot, hot, and excruciatingly hot, with more of the same for the next ten thousand years or so. Acid rain looms on the horizon, remember your galoshes this week so your body has something watertight to dissolve into, aha ha ha!"
He was good, Lucifer had to admit it. The timbre of his voice demanded one listen closely, equal parts sly and flirty, with a splash of dry humor overtop, inviting the listeners to join in on an unspoken yet shared joke.
It was having a predictable effect, on Lucifer at least.
He shifted uncomfortably, crossing his legs and whatever hopes he'd had for discretion from Angel were dashed as he hooted a laugh. "Pops, you got it bad. Can't say I blame you, mister creepy smiles sure has a 'scream into a pillow' vibe to 'im. Prudish ones always get wild in the sack."
"I really don't want to discuss my sex life with you." Considering what happened last time, it was probably best if Lucifer restricted talking about his sex life to anyone who wasn't directly involved with it.
"Could talk about mine," Angel winked.
"Pass."
"All right, listeners," Alastor's voice broke smoothly through their chatter. "Our next segment takes us back to the events of almost one year ago when our esteemed princess began her ridiculous venture to bring sinners to redemption! Now, I can't tell you if any of them have made so much as a teaspoon of progress on that front, but I can say the new and improved hotel has hot running water, private rooms, and daily torture in the form of therapy!"
Angel snorted, "Sure knows how to sell folks on the joint, doesn't he."
"It could be worse," Lucifer admitted. "At least he's not inviting people to stay for dinner."
"As an added bonus," Alastor went on brightly, "Charlie Morningstar managed to talk our absentee ruler, aka her daddy, into joining our illustrious staff! That's right, Lucifer is here with us at the hotel as we speak!"
This time Angel kept silent and Lucifer clenched his hands in his lap, waiting to see what Alastor had to say about him.
"I wouldn't recommend bringing your pathetic problems to his attention since he doesn't even know you exist and could indeed make you lack existence entirely, but if the mere sight of him walking through the halls brings a fraction of joy to your miserable reality, there's plenty to be found!"
Angel shifted, angling a smirk in Lucifer's direction. "Look at him telling people to keep the fuck away from you."
"That's one way to do it, I suppose," Lucifer sighed. Not that he was really complaining. It made perfect sense for Alastor to mention his presence, he should, brand appeal, right? But in his own…ah… unique fashion, he did manage to convey that people should generally leave him alone and as it stood, Lucifer was fine with that.
"Yes, the hotel and your path to possible redemption is coming along nicely! But you don't have to take my word for it, listeners, because today I am going to interview an actual hotel guest who has been staying here willingly under no coercion or bribes whatsoever!
"Sadly, my original choice for guest is currently 'unavailable', according to our lovely hotel manager." Impressive how he got those air quotes through the radio waves. "But never fear, dear listeners, for as your host I would never leave you disappointed!"
"And now for our guest, Miss…what did you say your name was?"
"Lanolyn." A soft feminine voice spoke up timidly, too close to the microphone. Lanolyn, that name was familiar.
"Lanolyn," Alastor repeated delightedly, "what an imaginative name! Welcome! Pleasure to have you on the show today."
"Thank you." The uncertainty in that voice stated very clearly that she wasn't quite sure about the pleasure of being here.
"Now, do tell us about your experience at our hotel! How did you hear about our unique establishment?"
"I first saw about it on the Katy Killjoy show." The voice clicked and Lucifer sat up straighter, frowning. That was the sheep demon he'd spoken to once or twice, he'd seen her leaving the therapy room on occasion, too. Not really what he'd been expecting as an interviewee, what he'd seen of her made him think all she wanted was to be left alone while she sought redemption.
Alastor laughed, "Ah, yes, such a delightful catastrophe!"
That was the first Lucifer was hearing about that and he added it to his mental notes of things to research, this was the problem with coming in at the middle of a show, he'd missed everything at the beginning.
The sheep demon went on. "I didn't come to the hotel then, though. I didn't come until after Charlie saved us from the Exorcists."
"Ah, a wise choice." Alastor said, all solicitous, smug agreement.
"That was part of it. But before that, I didn't know you were here at the hotel, too."
"Me?" Alastor sounded genuinely surprised. He recovered quickly, laughing delightedly, "Oh, an admirer, how lovely! I'm not often sought as company off the air."
"I'm sure you don't remember me," she went on, the tremble in her voice growing.
"I'm sure you're correct! I don't tend to keep a mental tally of all the rabble dredging out an existence in the lower bowels of Hell."
She ignored the obvious insult of it, going on doggedly. "It's been over a year since we met."
"Oh, and you've missed my presence! How delightful!" His voice belied the words, there was nothing of delight in it, only empty cheer and cooling enthusiasm.
"It was at a butcher shop, over on the west side. Near the rose garden park." Lucifer and Angel were both sitting up now, leaning in towards the radio instinctively as if to hear her quavering voice better.
"Ah, that's certainly a possibility," Alastor agreed, "I am known to frequent butcher shops. Now, going back to your experiences here at the hotel—"
"The butcher he…he was about to…" her voice broke, raw and wrong, "And you saved me."
"Indeed?" Now Alastor sounded boredly dismissive, papers rustling in the background, "And that led you to come to the hotel, good to know. Let's get back to your day to day here and how that's going for you, shall we?"
"You saved me," she said again, stubbornly. "You didn't even ask anything from me."
"My dear, I fear you must be mistaken. I do understand how one might fixate on such as myself, but let's get back to the business at hand, hmmm?"
"No, I wasn't mistaken, I wasn't!" For all the obvious fear in her voice, the stubbornness was still there as well, verging close to obstinance, "That's why I agreed to come on your show, I couldn't talk to you any other way! You saved me and I didn't even thank you for it."
That charming radio warmth froze over, icy coolness coated his words as Alastor said, "One should use 'thank you's' sparingly in Hell."
Angel winced, wrapping all four arms around himself, "C'mon, honey," he said softly, "drop it."
She didn't.
"I just needed to thank you," she burst out, "You were the only person who was kind to me when I first came to Hell until I came to this hotel and—"
Her voice cut off with a harsh record scratch and Alastor's returned, static-brittle and cool, "Let's take a brief commercial break and when we get back, more on the experience of staying at the Hazbin Hotel!"
The 'commercial' was someone screaming and Lucifer winced, gesturing hastily to turn it down.
"Ugh," Angel flopped back on the sofa and slung an arm over his eyes, "that was about as pleasant as a sriracha douche."
"You think she's wrong?" Lucifer asked cautiously. Alastor didn't strike him as one to play hero, but it wasn't as if Lucifer hadn't been wrong about him before. It would be difficult to mistake anyone else for him, and she was so determined. Unless she'd mistaken his intention, it was possible, but how—
"No, I think she shouldn't be callin' him out on air," Angel said darkly. "Look, I know you been out of the loop, but I gotta tell ya, he already put his reputation on the line just bein' at this hotel. How does Smiles explain helpin' her without even asking for her soul? Demons start thinkin' he's gettin' soft, they'll be testin' to see how soft. Even if he can handle it, who wants to deal with that every time you head downtown for a donut?"
Lucifer remembered their trip downtown, all the gawkers and lookieloos taking photos, videos, wondered how many of them considered attacking him. Even for a narcissist like Alastor there had to be a limit.
Angel shrugged, a curious rippling roll of two pairs of shoulders. "Reputation is about as important as actual power down here, ya know?"
Yeah. As 'the most hated creature in all creation', Lucifer did. He knew it very well, indeed.
"Anyway," Angel went on, "None of us need him gettin' an incentive to steer his rep back on track."
That was true, the little sheep demon's on-air gratitude was only making an already complicated issue worse, but Lucifer also couldn't let Alastor hurt her to recover his reputation.
He was about to portal his way upstairs when the broadcast returned, back to that cheery, inviting radio persona, "Welcome back, listeners! Let's return to our interview with Lanolyn, who is ready and eager to discuss her experience staying here at the Hazbin Hotel."
In the background was the sound of quiet weeping.
"S-s-staying at the hotel is wonderful," Lanolyn sniveled. "Just wonderful." She cried quietly in between Alastor perkily asking questions and it somehow managed to be more horrible to listen to than the screams.
Lucifer rubbed between his eyebrows where a headache was starting to form. Fuck this day.
"I'm no expert, Smalls," Angel said, unhappily, "but I really don't think that's the kind of advertising Charlie was hopin' for."
Really not. Lucifer stood up, "I'm going to check on her, make sure Alastor didn't undo a few months of therapy in a 30-second commercial break."
"And that he doesn't, you know," Angel held a hand in a mock puppet, miming a mouth opening and closing, "eat her to get rid of witnesses, yeah?"
"That, too."
With a flick of his fingers, Lucifer created a portal to the top floor and stepped through.
There were no guest rooms on the uppermost floor, in fact there there only two rooms connected by a long hallway and the elevators directly between them, ironic considering neither owner of said rooms even needed an elevator. Alastor's studio was on one side and on the other was a workshop for him, sitting empty. So far he'd been inside it twice, once when he created it and once three days later to look at the barren tables ready to be filled, the unused tools begging to be used, days and weeks and years of time he could stay in a new workshop with all the potential right there to make the same mistakes again.
He'd turned right back around and closed the door behind him, and hadn't been back since.
Now there wasn't even a tinge of regret as he turned away from the workshop and instead went in the direction of the radio tower. Next to the closed door was a glaring red 'On the Air' sign and before Lucifer could decide if he was going to interrupt the broadcast, the door opened and the little sheep demon stepped out.
At least eating her was off the table, so to speak.
There was no sign of tears now, her chin high and her eyes clear as she headed down the hallway. She halted when she saw him, a guarded expression dropping over her face.
Lucifer tucked his hands into his pockets and tried to look like someone who wasn't here to end anyone's existence.
"Miss? Lanolyn?" Lucifer asked carefully, "Are you all right?"
For all that she was shorter than him, regrettably not something Lucifer was often able to say, she was remarkably talented at looking down her nose at someone. She said, coolly, "Of course I am."
"He didn't—" Lucifer paused, trying to think of a gentle way to phrase it and coming up blank, what, like he was any good at making a human connection? "…did he…what did he say to you? Off the air?"
If anything, her expression chilled further, not exactly what he'd expected from the recently traumatized. "I don't have to tell you anything, but he was a perfect gentleman."
She skirted around him without another word and Lucifer didn't try to stop her, only called, "Lanolyn? I'm only worried about you." He hesitated then confessed, "I'm worried about him, too."
She paused, turning back to look at him, her expression torn. "I've heard the rumors about you two," she said, "I've heard what the Vees are saying and I don't know what's true." She hesitated, biting her lip, then went on in a burst. "But what I do know is he saved me last year." She nodded, almost to herself, "I know that. I know it. That's why I know this hotel will work. Everyone here actually cares, whether they pretend they do or not."
"Did he tell you that?"
She tossed her head, curly hair swinging over her shoulder. "If you want to know what he said to me, you can come to group therapy again," she said, primly. "We have a confidentiality clause."
With a last sniff, she turned back around and headed towards the elevators.
Lucifer sighed and slouched against the wall, sliding down to sit on the floor outside the closed door to the studio. Naturally, he was in the one place in the hotel where there was no radio, so he had no idea if Alastor was still broadcasting, but the light was still on, so probably?
He drew up his knees and rested his chin on his folded arms. Lanolyn didn't really answer any of his questions, if anything she gave him a few more. Whatever Alastor said to her, she didn't seem frightened or traumatized, only more determined to see her redemption through.
Probably that should make him happy, it wasn't exactly the outcome Charlie wanted from this little interview but there was potential, at least.
But somehow it increased his concern for Alastor.
There was so much on his plate and it showed no sign of slowing, only seemed worse in fact and Lucifer would feel guilty about adding to that if he didn't genuinely believe Alastor was taking some kind of comfort with him. Wishful thinking, maybe, but he liked to think he was at least something of a balm to Alastor's hurts.
He glanced up again at that glaring neon 'On Air' sign. It occurred to him that Alastor might not even be inside; it wasn't like he had to use the door. But Lucifer didn't have any clue where else Alastor might be, he might not even be in the hotel, so may as well wait here for a little while.
Although there were less pathetic ways of doing it. Lucifer pulled out his phone and opened Wordle, settling in to wait.
Maybe ten minutes passed and Lucifer was still on his third guess when the door opened.
Alastor barely took a step out before he halted in surprise, blinking down at Lucifer sitting right at his feet.
He wasn't wearing his coat, dressed only in his shirtsleeves and suspenders over his trousers, and the combination accentuated his slimness, giving him the willowy stature of a dancer. The glamour was still covering the bruise on his face and Lucifer could feel the faint gleam of his own power clinging, a thin veneer of gold laid overtop marble.
He looked good, deliciously appealing, Alastor almost always did. Like something Lucifer wanted to grab hold of and hang on, to climb him and wrap himself around like a vine clinging to a particularly stubborn tree.
He didn't, tamping that urge down. His own power wasn't the only thing he could feel, Alastor's sense of greennesswas heavy in the air, prickling like static electricity. Alastor's temper was uncertain, so many traps scattering around and Lucifer really didn't want to stick a foot in one, not today.
"What are you doing here?" Alastor asked. So very neutral, impossible to gauge if Alastor was glad to see him, angry, or worst of all, indifferent.
"Waiting for you," Lucifer said simply.
It was the truth, nothing more. If Alastor wanted to cut him down, lash out with that sharp tongue and temper, Lucifer could allow it. Give him free rein that he couldn't use on the guests or whoever his deal holder was, allow him a safer place for his temper to settle, a vent for the building steam.
But Alastor only tilted his head to the side, the even line of his hair tipping with it. "Have you been sitting here all this time?"
"Not that long," Lucifer admitted, "I didn't want to knock." He pointed at the still glowing 'On Air' sign. "The light was on."
"Indeed, it was." Alastor turned back to the door, holding it open. "Well, come in, then."
Okay, that wasn't an invitation he'd expected, but he'd take it.
Lucifer had never been inside the radio tower and curiosity abounded. He'd seen the outside of the old one, both when it was haphazardly attached to the hotel and when it wasn't, nothing but smashed glass and ruined equipment.
Inside the studio was a strange combination of swampy and surprisingly cozy; there was an antlered coat stand by the door, one branch taken up by a familiar red one. A long sofa pushed up against one wall with a cluster of cattails sprouting right up from the floor next to the arm and in front of it was a narrow coffee table, an old-fashioned coffee pot and an empty cup sitting in the middle of it. The bulk of the room was taken up by the radio equipment and Alastor stepped in front of it, blocking Lucifer's curious gaze.
Lucifer offered him a lopsided smile. "You put on an interesting show, coffee bean."
"No," Alastor said firmly.
"Huh?" That made him blink in confusion.
"No, you are not making that some sort of nickname." Alastor wagged a scolding finger at him and said again, firmly, "Absolutely not."
Oh, glory, absolutely yes to that becoming a nickname, his bean would have been better off not saying a word, but now? Challenge accepted.
"Why are you complaining, bean?" Lucifer said teasingly, "I didn't call you 'little' this time."
Alastor seemed to realize his mistake, too late, frustrated resignation flitting across his face before his expression settled into smiling blandness. He stepped back reluctantly when Lucifer moved around him to check out the broadcasting equipment.
His microphone was leaning against an oversized console panel that was covered in dials and buttons, lit up like Christmas and the only reason Lucifer knew that was because one of the few official proclamations he'd ever made was banning Christmas lights. It was one thing to get kicked out of Heaven, he wasn't about to let his dubious subjects celebrate the birth of his replacement.
Lucifer barely got a chance to look around when Alastor caught hold of him under his arms, lifting him to sit on the edge of the console table. Okay, yes, it was about waist-high on Alastor and he would've had to jump up a teeny bit to sit on it, just a bit. Didn't mean he needed a boost up, thanks, he was the damn king of Hell and he was notsulking as he glared up at Alastor.
"I'm not a toddler."
Alastor's grin widened with delight, always happy to be an irritant. "Then quit having a tantrum like one."
Oh, unfair, anything he said to that would be like proving the point. Lucifer settled for crossing his arms over his chest and glaring. He might as well have saved the effort. Alastor was turned away from him, looking out one of the windows, his hands clasped behind his back. Pentagram City was spread out before them, glittering in the noontime heat.
"This is my place of power, you know," Alastor said conversationally. "I'm always connected to the radio waves but never stronger than when I am here."
That much was very obvious. Power carried a sense of it, difficult to describe for one who couldn't simply feel it. For all his love of crimson and black, the sense that marked Alastor was neither. He exuded a sense of greenness, always so green and the peculiar marshiness that came from decomposition. It wasn't bad, not to Lucifer, rotting was only another form of rebirth and sitting here inside it was almost oppressive, surrounding him, swallowing him whole. It should be terrifying, Lucifer supposed, his gilded edges compressed against so much green. Should but wasn't and Lucifer wasn't sure he was allowed to tell Alastor that what he felt was cradled here in his power, comforted in his presence.
Lucifer swallowed those words away, his own tiny consumption, and said only, hoarsely, "Yeah?"
"Mm, yes. It's not only me broadcasting in here." Alastor set a hand against the glass, palm pressed flat and his fingers spread. "I can hear so much of the goings-on out there."
"The traffic, the weather."
"That, too," Alastor agreed. "So, you were listening to my broadcast, how delightful. Your daughter believes because we share a bed you can be assigned as my keeper."
"That's not why." Not quite a lie, it was mostly not her intention, he was sure. "She's worried about you."
He couldn't keep from flinching as Alastor whirled around, that false calm breaking into fury. "Then she should stop!" Alastor snarled. His teeth lengthened a fraction, the sclera of his eyes darkening. "You should stop!" He gestured furiously at his face, at the paper-thin layer of glamour covering it. "The both of you are ridiculous, it's a black eye! Do you think this is the worse injury I've had in Hell?"
"I know it isn't," Lucifer said quietly. No, that he knew all too well.
Alastor shuddered, wiping a hand down his face, wincing as he grazed the hidden bruises.
When he raised his head again, his pupils were faded entirely into radio dials, his voice roughened into harsher static. "When I first came to Hell, I began to work immediately on building my reputation. I'm known for a certain amount of arrogance but I'm no fool. Reputation in Hell is survival. I'm the Radio Demon, my name brings terror. It fucking should."
"It still does."
Alastor made a scoffing sound, the burble of a rolling radio dial. "I consider myself to be a practical sort, but it seems I saved my foolishness for thinking I could simply step back into the shoes I left behind seven years ago."
Seven years, seven, a peculiarly godly number. "I know you were gone. Where did you go?"
"A well-earned sabbatical." The intention in the words was buried, fossilized beneath layers of well-practiced sarcasm and yeah, no straight answer was coming from there.
Lucifer sat on the edge of the console, forcing himself not to kick his dangling feet like the toddler he definitely wasn't, trying to think of what to say. What could he say, he was terrible at this in the best of times, and he'd never had to be afraid of any demons in Hell, never had to worry about his reputation, fuck, as if. He'd never even cared. But Alastor did, he knew that, he knew. "Alastor, I'm sorry. This is my fault, I should have kept my mouth shut—"
Alastor let out a low, mocking laugh. "You do realize there is already gossip about me hiding in your shadow? That I came back too weak to maintain my status and thus prostituted myself to you to gain protection. Me?"
And that was on Lucifer and his big fucking mouth. "I'm so sorry."
Alastor only waved an impatient hand. "I'm not. The alternative of being your dirty secret appeals even less. Besides, any fool who believes that I'm playing the whore for your protection knows little about me and nothing at all about you."
Stupidly, that stung, adjacent to an insult. "You don't think I'd protect you?"
The twist of his smile matched his scoffing as Alastor said, "I certainly think you'd like to. You think I can't see how you yearn to shelter me? I can't have that." His voice went deeper, darker, a shimmer of static briefly encompassing his entire form, "I will not. You can't fight my battles for me, my dear, I won't allow it."
Yes, Lucifer understood it. He understood, it didn't mean he had to like it.
"But you could let me help," Lucifer said. He spread his hands, helplessness and offering as one. "What can I do to help?"
Only for Alastor to turn away from him, the shape of him stiff and unyielding. A tiny sound escaped him as he ducked his head and he spoke to the window rather than Lucifer, the glare of his eyes reflected in the glass.
"I'm tired," he admitted.
It was all Lucifer could do to stay sitting, to not reach out to him and pull him close. "Alastor, let me help."
"I know you'd give me the things I might ask for," Alastor said, stilted and low. "It's the asking that's occasionally difficult."
"So don't ask," Lucifer told him softly.
Alastor made another broken, staticky sound, hunching in on himself, shoulders quivering as he said, harshly, "Don't look at me."
They were in the seat of Alastor's power surrounded in his ever greenness, tainted by it, and Lucifer never hesitated. He closed his eyes and waited.
The room went cold around him, electricity crackling through the air, enough that Lucifer could feel his hair rising. Footsteps came closer, the rap of hard-soled shoes on an uncarpeted floor. Hands crept around him, pulling him against a wiry body, taller and sharper than the one he was growing to know so well, the warped hunch of shoulders beneath Lucifer's cautious hands as he returned the embrace. Alastor buried his face, bruised and twisted and so, so beloved, into the crook of Lucifer's neck, breath chilled and too fast, laden with radio static. Dampness was seeping through Lucifer's shirt, wetting his skin and he could smell not tears but the iron tang of blood.
He didn't care.
"Shh, it's all right," Lucifer told him, whispered it into Alastor's hair, electricity arcing between them in snaps and sparks as he crooned close to the silkiness of one long ear. "It's all right. You don't have to hide from me, never from me."
He held Alastor for a long time, cupping his chilled face in his palms and combing fingers through his hair, the fine strands clinging and sending tiny, crackling shocks into his fingertips. Lucifer only sat there in his arms, petting and soothing him, murmuring what truths he could for as long as Alastor would allow it.
tbc
Notes:Oh, these boys and the things they do to my heart. Thank you so much everyone for still reading along and I hope you're still enjoying! I've had a few people ask about leaving theories and speculation in the comments, please, feel free! Theorize away, I won't spoil anything, but I do love seeing it. 🥰
Please go see the AMAZING art veryfasy did for this chapter!!
Chapter 2Notes:Please note the RATING and the TAGS have changed!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
They held each other for a long time, until Lucifer felt Alastor shifting, reforming into the shape Lucifer knew so well. He could almost feel the shields dropping back into place along with a smile as Alastor drew back and rubbed his sleeve hastily over his eyes.
Lucifer mourned the loss briefly and silently. He'd been allowed past those shields before, he'd find his way past them again. Any labyrinth could be solved with enough time and that was something Lucifer had in spades.
Until then, he'd keep searching and listening. For someone who talked as much as Alastor did, there was so much hidden beneath the static, and Lucifer was getting better at hearing it, his unspoken language.
"Well!" Alastor said brightly, as if his lashes weren't still spiky-damp and this was only another day, the same as any. "As is often the way of these little breakdowns in your presence, that was delightfully humiliating! If we're finished with that, I have a proposition."
"Hmm?" Lucifer said distractedly. His attention was elsewhere, drawn to Alastor's face where there was still a trickle of blood running down his chin, gleaming wetly.
Lucifer reached out and wiped it up with his forefinger, bright, liquid crimson against his pale skin. Blood wasn't his preferred taste sensation and he held his finger up to Alastor's lips in offering, watched as he slowly licked that bloody smear away. The wet pink of his tongue was pure temptation and the sudden unbearable urge to touch him, to fill his hands with Alastor's lovely bare skin was not one Lucifer even considered resisting.
He wasn't allowed to fight Alastor's battles for him, he couldn't force Alastor to let him help, but he could offer what Alastor did allow, could give him what he knew Alastor wanted. Lucifer could give him that, right here, in the seat of his power. He could.
"I have a proposition of my own. Why don't you let me fuck you right here?" Lucifer said softly.
"Hnn," Alastor's eyes fell half-closed, the tip of his tongue pressing lightly against his upper lip. "I'm not sure that's practical without a few adjustments, if one takes our height differences into consideration." He snapped his fingers and summoned a box, perfectly positioned for someone at least a foot shorter than Lucifer to stand on and be waist-high to the console.
Oh, this fucking GUY.
"Asshole," Lucifer sighed at Alastor's gleeful grin.
"Perhaps you'd care to hear my—" Alastor's voice hitched as Lucifer gave in and leaned close enough to press his mouth against the sharp line of Alastor's jaw, working his way lower, "—proposition first?"
"Mmhmm," Lucifer said agreeably against the thin, delicate skin at Alastor's throat. The urge to press his teeth there, to mark him for however long Alastor let the tiny wounds last, was terribly strong.
"If you distract me, you'll never hear what I have to offer," Alastor warned.
Now, see, there was a conundrum right there, a veritable challenge. On one hand, shoving Alastor down over the console and fucking the brat until he screamed definitely appealed. On the other, it was hard to beat Alastor when it came to dealmaking, and Lucifer was fairly sure he'd like whatever he came up with.
Decisions, decisions.
"Okay," Lucifer said finally, "let's hear it."
The first thing Alastor did was try to pull away and that was not on. Lucifer made a disagreeable sound and refused to let go until Alastor gave him a patient look. Only then did he grudgingly release him, already prepared to retrieve his prize if this offer wasn't to his tastes.
He needn't have worried, Alastor didn't go far.
Alastor slipped his suspenders off his shoulders, letting them dangle, loosening his tie, and wasn't that a delicious view, a classy sort of mussed. Then he sat in the chair right in front of the console, legs spread wide as he cupped his crotch in one hand, vulgar in a way he never was.
"If you wanted to suck me off," Alastor said with lazy, static-laced invitation, "you'd never have a better opportunity."
Oh. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, yes.
Without another word, Lucifer hopped down to kneel in front of him, reaching out with grabby hands and Alastor let him, god, yes, let him. Allowed Lucifer to bat his hand aside and press his face against the fly of his trousers, nuzzling against the soft bulge there and breathing in the smell of him, laundry detergent and cologne and Alastor, the greenness of him rich and strong.
Beneath the fabric, he could feel Alastor wasn't hard and while Lucifer had given and received plenty of blowjobs before, this was different. If it was him, he'd consider it a personal failing to not get a hard-on at the very thought of getting oral but for Alastor, he mostly expected it.
"Can I?" Lucifer asked, voice breaking in eagerness as he reached for Alastor's fly. "Please, can I touch you?"
"Yes," Alastor said simply. He reached up and settled a hand on top of Lucifer's head, sinking his fingers into pale golden curls as Lucifer flicked open the button of his trousers, tugging down the zipper. He pulled down the front of Alastor's black undershorts, gingerly drawing the softness of his cock free.
Then he leaned back on his heels and took a moment to simply look. He'd never had a chance to give Alastor's cock much scrutiny and he was taking his time now.
Uncut, lying quiescent against the soft, dark crimson fur that passed for his pubic hair. A decent mouthful even soft and Lucifer's mouth was already watering, eager for a taste. He leaned in and licked a path up the length of it, pressed the flat of his tongue broadly against the shaft and left behind a glistening path of saliva in its wake.
A little quiver went through Alastor, his knees bouncing once, and it was incredibly satisfying to see that he was nowhere near as unaffected as he liked to pretend.
Lucifer reached up to take hold of the soft shaft, not quite as soft now, holding it steady as he leaned in to take the length into his mouth. Let the pliant cock rest on the cushion of his tongue while his hand circled the base to hold it steady as Lucifer drew it deeper. Until his lips were pressed into the soft fluff of fur, rubbing his tongue against the underside thoughtfully while he waited to see if Alastor's dick was interested in joining the party. Not that it mattered to him, this was fine, this was perfect, the strange intimacy of it and if he could be allowed to simply enjoy the feel of this for a little while, Lucifer would call it more than worth it.
But to his surprised pleasure, the shaft slowly hardened as Lucifer sucked, filling his mouth until the head was bumping against the back of his throat. He only swallowed against it, gag reflex, never heard of it, that was a human thing. Lucifer only tipped his head enough to let it slide in deeper in a slippery, greedy push.
Above him, he could distantly hear Alastor breathing, the hissing static and filthy grunts that clearly stated he was enjoying Lucifer's attentions in some way. Slim fingertips combed through his hair, twisting the pale curls around slender digits. "How lovely you are with your mouth around my cock."
Lucifer choked on a whimper that tried and failed to escape, gagged by the thickening of Alastor's cock, but, god, to hear that gorgeous voice static-thick with arousal while calling him lovely was a guilty fantasy brought to life. He moaned around his full mouth, bobbing his head as he tried to muffle his own delight.
Alastor only hummed, his fingers petting through Lucifer's hair. "How could you possibly doubt your own beauty? I believe you do, you must, or you'd never need me to say a word about it."
No, Lucifer couldn't say, don't say that, don't tell me that.Words left unspoken and Lucifer could only endure as Alastor went on.
"It's almost enough to make me want to come simply to see it again on your face. Wearing my mark, smelling like my semen…ngk!" Alastor's voice broke as Lucifer pulled back enough to lick at the head, pushing back the foreskin to lap away the stickiness beading there, sharply bitter and delicious. "Do you know how you look on your knees in front of me, King of Hell? So adamant you want nothing inside you and yet here we are."
Asshole, and worse than that, rude. Lucifer showed his displeasure by letting his teeth graze a little too hard and Alastor let out a delighted, breathless laugh. "Yes, there is that. I suspect your pussy doesn't have the same accoutrements, hm? Go slower, let me watch you."
He hadn't realized Alastor was going to narrate the whole time, but Lucifer certainly had no objection, not at all. Heat was pooling in his belly, settling low and he was hard as stone in his pants, cock aching. Could someone be talked to orgasm, asking for a friend, fuck, if anyone could do it, it would be Alastor.
He started reaching down to touch himself and Alastor gripped his arm, stopping him. "None of that, you're supposed to be focusing on me. However would you manage if you were so distracted, hmm?"
Lucifer held back a disgruntled grumble and focused on the task at hand…or at tongue, sucking with long, messy pulls, his fingers wrapped around the base wet with spit, more trailing down his chin. Alastor didn't seem to care, he only let his hand rest on Lucifer's head and made no attempt to guide him or pull him down. Sinking back in his chair, his legs sprawled apart as he let Lucifer take what he wanted from this.
"Do you recall that during your drunken episode that you offered to let me fuck you?" Alastor asked suddenly.
That made Lucifer briefly freeze, a little horrified. Had he really? There was no reason to doubt Alastor, but he was certain they hadn't done it, there was no way he wouldn't have noticed…wouldn't he? He relaxed as Alastor went on, "Not that I would have done, especially not considering the state you were in. I'll say again since your memory was so compromised; I have no interest in that. How could your cunt ever appeal when I could have this vision of loveliness before me…ah…"
The words caught as Lucifer sucked hard, humming his appreciation of Alastor's narration and Alastor gasped, his head dropping back against the chair. "Stop."
Confused, Lucifer started to pull off and Alastor's hand suddenly on the back of his head kept him firmly in place. He obeyed the unspoken command, kneeling there on the floor with Alastor's cock resting on his tongue, listening to his breathing ease and slow.
Then the fingers in his hair tightened, urging. "Continue."
He started sucking again, head bobbing, the flat of his tongue cushioning the shaft. The hand in his hair twitched as if Alastor was resisting the urge to push him down, to force his cock in deep and Lucifer would have let him, would have dearly loved to feel Alastor coming apart under his mouth. Instead, he created his own rhythm, letting the shaft slide easily between his lips and swallowing deeply as the head bumped at the back of his throat, again and again.
Until Alastor's knees jittered on either side of his head and he rasped out again, thickly, "Stop."
Lucifer did, staying still this time and, yeah, he was catching on. Alastor was edging himself with Lucifer's mouth, using him, god, so fucking hot.
A handful of heartbeats later Alastor spoke again, still breathless, "Continue."
Over and over, sucking Alastor hard enough to feel the prickle of pressure behind his eyes, until he told Lucifer to stop, again, to begin, again. Until he was quivering beneath Lucifer's hands and mouth, twitchy little jerks and static whimpers as he struggled to catch his breath, his hips moving in uncontrollable little jolts and his fingers clenched into Lucifer's hair, tiny strands of it breaking in his grip.
"So beautiful, so obedient," Alastor gasped out. "You want me to come, don't you? I think…unh!…I think I can give you that this once, yes, ah, Lucifer, a little faster…just…a little more...."
One of Alastor's legs wound around him, the heel of his shoe digging uncomfortably into Lucifer's ribs and he only sucked harder, balanced on the knife-edge of waiting.
Static screeched around them as Alastor arched, choking out a needy, feedback-clotted sound and came. A hot, thick pulse of bitter salt fell across Lucifer's greedy tongue, and he swallowed it down eagerly, struggling to breathe with his face pressed tight into the soft fur of Alastor's pubic hair as his tongue chased the heavy taste of it. He could feel Alastor quivering uncontrollably under him, oversensitive, and didn't care, lost in his eagerness as he licked and sucked and only wanted more.
"Enough," Alastor said, weakly, "stop, enough." His palm in the middle of Lucifer's forehead shoved him backwards when he took too long to obey and reluctantly, he went, letting the shaft slide free, shining wet and softening.
Lucifer sank back on his heels, panting harshly, licking his bruised, too-hot lips as he looked up at Alastor and fell a little more in love. So gorgeously wrecked, eyes closed and the points of his ears sagging, his mouth wet and open, lips bitten red. His shirt clung to him sweatily, his pants open and his softening cock exposed in the open vee of the fly, his legs sprawled akimbo like an invitation and Lucifer nearly took it, nearly crawled right between those spread knees and yanked those pants out of his way to have him.
Only Alastor's eyes opening stopped him. He leaned forward, all wobbly grace, and slipped a finger under Lucifer's chin, tipping it up and his normally sharp crimson eyes were blurry with satisfaction as he studied Lucifer's face.
"Would that I could let you see yourself through my eyes," Alastor said quietly, and Lucifer's heart throbbed, hot and aching as a wound. That soft smile widened wickedly, and Alastor sat back again. He shifted to push his foot between Lucifer's spread knees, stepping gently against the bulge at the crotch of his pants. "Now. Touch yourself. I want to see you come and don't you dare get a spot on my shoes."
Lucifer briefly closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath before he did as he was told.
Fumbled open the fly of his pants and reached in to draw out his cock, jerking himself before he'd even cleared the fabric. The friction of his palm was bliss, thrusting into the tight circle of his fingers. He wasn't going to last long, already panting at the pleasure of it and Alastor only watched, a smirk curving his closed mouth, his eyes glittery and hotly avid.
"Beautiful," Alastor said, so smugly satisfied. "You're beautiful like this, how could you possibly doubt it? Flushed and panting at the crest of climax and all because of me."
Narcissistic, arrogant prick was completely right and his vicious grin knew it. His foot shifted, the toe of his shoe nudging at Lucifer's balls through his trousers, just under his desperately stroking hand and there was no holding back after that.
"F-fuck," Lucifer choked out, spilling over his knuckles and into the cup of his other hand, still jerking furiously and unable to control the abrupt snap of his wings into existence, unfurling out behind him and flaring wide, the tips of his flight feathers bending against window glass.
Lucifer fell forward under their sudden weight, struggling to brace himself on his free hand as it slid on the floor tiles, slippery with come, still gripping his cock with the other as he shook and pulsed with the ecstasy of it.
"That's new," Alastor said, eyes wide and fascinated. He reached up and dragged his sharp fingertips lightly over the upper curve of one of the primary wings and Lucifer was unprepared for them to yearn into that touch, the very core of him reaching out to Alastor and drawing him in, filled to the brim with the mingling of angelic grace and desecrating greenness, sensation overflowing and dragging Lucifer along with it.
"Oh, don't," Lucifer whined, desperately, nearly convulsing underneath that unexpected crush of euphoria, more than he could bear. It was already too late, and Lucifer shuddered uncontrollably and came again, too soon, overwhelmed and aching, swamped by the unexpected frisson of pure pleasure, only dimly hearing Alastor's sound of pleased surprise.
"Sensitive, indeed," Alastor said. Lucifer bit back a shriek as Alastor twisted his fingers a last time before finally pulling back, leaving Lucifer sagging to the floor, disorientated and panting, and every breath felt like he was drowning. His wings were fluttering weakly, left adrift without Alastor's touch and Lucifer didn't have the ability yet to beg Alastor to do it again.
Alastor didn't seem to realize he'd metaphorically cut through Lucifer's strings. He sat up, pants sliding down as he stretched, and his joints popped in cringy ways. "I do hope my listeners enjoyed the show."
At first, the words didn't even register, filtering slowly through Lucifer like deeply cold water sinking downward. The very moment understanding clicked, Lucifer jerked upright, iciness settling into his chest as the last shivers of pleasure abruptly faded. His heartbeat echoed in his ears and he instinctively dragged his wings back and tucked them away, shielding them from eyes that didn't exist, "What?"
"I'm a radio host," Alastor said easily. He fastened his pants and reknotted his tie, sliding his braces back over his shoulders as he moved to stand in front of the console, flicking a few switches. "I broadcast, that's what I do. I thought you knew."
No.
Just the thought of anyone else hearing that, his raw vulnerability put on blatant display made him nauseous. To think of anyone but Alastor hearing him like that, pleading and caught up in previously unknown ecstasy, left him verging on a nightmarish despair he hadn't felt since he watched his wife walk away with their daughter in her arms.
He was still frozen in sickened horror when Alastor turned around and sank down to crouch next to him, his grin widening and crimson eyes gleaming. "You're very gullible post-orgasm, did you know?"
Lucifer sagged back on his elbows, too filled with relief and exasperation to even be angry; fuck's sake, Alastor still found ways to get his jollies, didn't he, colossal prick that he was, and Lucifer did not mean that in enjoyable orgasm ways.
He crawled over to where Alastor was crouched, limbs still wobbly and disobedient, and smacked him hard on the chest, hard enough to send him teetering backwards to fall on his ass. That was satisfying enough he crawled right into Alastor's lap and smacked him again, and again for good measure, Alastor letting out a peal of laughter, not even trying to stop him. "Asshole!"
"Always," Alastor chuckled. He slid his arms around Lucifer and tugged him close, ignoring his scowl as he leaned in to kiss him. He barely flinched as Lucifer nipped the tip of his tongue, hard enough to taste blood. He only swept his quickly healing tongue over Lucifer's in something that might resemble apology before he drew back and said, "I've no idea why you're continually surprised by that. Perhaps next time you find yourself in front of a camera, you'll be more cautious with your words and what you reveal, hmm?"
Oh, this FUCKING guy.
Lucifer slapped his chest again and a mellow gleam of gold catching in the light gave him pause. His ring, still on his finger and again, he briefly considered removing it. He should, it was long overdue.
Except if he did it now, in front of Alastor, it would be too symbolic, wouldn't it. He should wait until he was alone, no reason to make a big deal of it, just take it off and tuck it away, and that would be the end of it, right?
Alastor stiffened suddenly beneath him, his eyes flashing radio dials as he sat straight up and his smiled widened to an unearthly grimace. Lucifer flailed as he was dumped to the floor when Alastor sank away, disappearing wordlessly into a web of shadows.
"Wait!" Lucifer yelped, but he was talking to thin air. He scrambled to his feet, straightening his clothes as he cursed Alastor in several languages that no longer existed in the Living world.
Fuck's sake, he could help! How did he manage to get into bed with the one sinner in Hell who didn't want to take advantage of his power?
Before he could even consider a way to follow Alastor, his phone chimed. He pulled it out and frowned to see it was a message from Charlie. He opened it and there were only two words, enough to freeze his hellishly heated blood.
Come downstairs!!
Lucifer didn't even pause to think, the rest of the universe fading to pitiful background noise as he was already forming a portal and heading down to where his daughter needed him. She needed him and he didn't care who or what was involved, he would protect her again and whoever dared hurt her would pay in unimaginable pain and blood.
-finis-