Chapter Text
Just as Lucifer had predicted, Charlie did summon an impromptu emergency meeting in the middle of breakfast the next day. Summon perhaps was not the right word. What Charlie did was join the rest of them for breakfast, looking like she’d got even less sleep than Lucifer, inhale half of Angel’s frittata (he was learning and Lucifer was definitely not a bit teary about it), and then promptly stand up and start talking a mile a minute.
Lucifer loved her so fucking much. Perhaps even enough to dare suggest she went to the hotel’s weekly therapy sessions again (the last time someone had tried that, she’d fallen prey to a hysterical laughter that lasted several hours and burnt down several brand new curtains).
“So last night Heaven contacted me! Or, well, not Heaven, but I guess not not -Heaven either! It was a very secure, restricted line! Anyway! They called me and told me some things have come to the surface after last Extermination Day that directly concern us, well, obviously they would, we were practically the only ones targeted, ha ha!”
“Uh, who’s they?” Cherri asked.
“No one!” Charlie beamed several degrees higher than even room 403 last night. “I guess not no one, but they preferred to stay anonymous—”
“How convenient,” Husk said, stabbing a fork in his second helping of frittata.
“Which makes sense, if what they say is true and this is something Heaven doesn’t want to get out right now!” Charlie went on amid the growing chatter.
“What did they say?” Niffty asked, looking up from where she’d been gathering breadcrumbs from around her plate.
“Well, that’s just the thing! They said they couldn’t risk saying anything more over the phone, and that we gotta come up with a way to meet—”
“Are we sure this is not just some trap to lure you away and shank you?” Angel asked this time, and Charlie visibly started losing her momentum.
“Guys,” Lucifer said, a hand to his temple. The headache from the night before had yet to disappear completely. “Let’s give Charlie time to finish talking before launching the Q&A, alright?”
Charlie gave him such a thankful smile that he melted even more than the butter on his pancakes. Then her expression turned a bit confused, but she shook her head and went back to her news.
“A way to meet in person! It would have to be out of earshot of Heaven, but not so far away that their absence would be noticed! So we gotta keep in touch and choose a place and time, and some safety protocols, yes, thank you, Vaggie, I’ve not forgotten!”
“Thank you,” Vaggie sagged in relief.
Ugh, Lucifer didn’t like the sound of that. But he’d advocated for hearing her out, even if it meant him having to swallow back every anxiety that he’d perhaps doomed her with this stupid attempt to help. Swallowing, it turned out, took so much effort that he missed several sentences of her speech.
“But guys!” Charlie clasped her hands together, oblivious to the turmoil in his mind. “This is the first bit of news we’ve got since Extermination Day! No matter what it is, it’s still better to hear it than not, right?”
“Unless it’s some sadistic mind game, sure,” Husk muttered.
Despite being there from the beginning, sitting primly between Husk and Lucifer, Alastor had refrained from entering the conversation, yet now he let out a thoughtful hum.
Their latest ministrations with room 403 must've had more of an effect on him than he'd let on, because instead of his usual scarlet suit, he was currently dressed in all black but for the white shirt peeking out from under a subtly embroidered waistcoat, and Lucifer—had no opinion on it whatsoever.
Anyway, what was he saying? Ah, yes, Alastor had finally deigned to grace the conversation with his presence. “I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it. Even that would give us a glimpse into their plans. I must say I agree with Charlie here. Any intel is better than this, hah, radio silence we’ve been getting for the past few months.”
Thank God somebody could think rationally this morning. Lucifer’s breathing started returning to normal just as Charlie thanked Alastor profusely (Lucifer wasn’t even jealous this time) and proceeded to run through all the plans she and Vaggie had brainstormed overnight. Yep, he definitely had to talk to her about that therapy.
A quarter of an hour deep into this latest speech, Alastor leaned a bit closer to him, voice lowered to a whisper. “You don’t happen to have had anything to do with this, do you?”
“I have no idea what you mean,” Lucifer whispered back, but couldn’t help grinning. “But even if I did, hypothetically of course, I’d insist on reminding someone they advised me to focus my pitiful energy on more worthwhile endeavours.”
Alastor grimaced minutely. “As long as you’re not putting this on me if it goes haywire.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Alastor didn’t exactly roll his eyes this time, but the soft sigh he let out as he returned to sitting properly his chair conveyed the same feeling. Lucifer kept on smiling. Then he knocked his foot into his, just to be a dick.
Vaggie’s plan (and it was mostly hers, with how tinged with paranoia it was; Lucifer was quite pleased on that part) for procuring this top-secret information was as follows:
- First of all, reinforce all the security systems in the hotel. (Vaggie and Alastor)
- Get Charlie a non-Voxtech phone to use on this mission from now on. (Cherri)
- Scout around the Heaven Embassy to make sure they aren't also plotting something. (Angel)
- Get Charlie a subtle armour from Carmilla. (Vaggie, again)
- Scout every dusty nook and cranny for a place to open a portal away from all the residents. (Niffty)
- Give Voxtech something else to fuss over for a few weeks while this goes on. (Husk, to Angel's chagrin)
- Get mentally ready for whatever fresh Hell —literally— was coming their way. (everybody)
Which left Lucifer with… nothing. Well, not nothing, he had to sit Charlie through a whole crashcourse on dealing with senior angels — fuck knew why he hadn’t done that the first time he’d sent her to the lion’s den — but that was planned for a later date, closer to this supposed meeting.
So what he was actually left with was worry, dread, and the whole thesaurus for anxiety. Not much different than last time, actually, but damn if he knew what he’d done to cope with it then. Probably ducks.
He didn’t feel like making ducks now.
And just his luck, he’d finished his paper model just a few days before, so he couldn’t even fiddle with that now. It had ended up being a sort of pavilion, some unholy mix between a gazebo and a circus tent for the garden, where Charlie wanted to host gatherings and parties for the guests when the weather held. They were momentarily waiting for the acid rains to stop and then they would start actually building it.
Maybe he could actually fiddle. If only he remembered where he’d put it after what Angel called his rap battle with Alastor. Was it back at the castle? Fuck, he’d have to check.
There were a few rhythmic knocks at his door, barely heard over the rattle of the rain outside. Lucifer sent a quiet but fervent prayer to whoever had been listening (bad habits die hard) and went to open the door.
Alastor was on the other side, devoid of both cane and jacket, but still sporting the same black and white from that morning. For several incriminating seconds, Lucifer stared dumbly up at him. Alastor had never bothered with such plebeian things as knocking before.
“I came to return these,” he said, and held up a pair of black gloves.
“Oh. Right.” Lucifer regained his footing along with his gloves. Secured between them was his wedding ring. “Thank you! Gonna forget my head next, right? Ha ha…”
That was exactly the kind of thing Alastor loved to pick on him for, but this time, the jibe didn’t come. Nothing did, apart from the faint murmur of radio static. Lucifer glanced up with some apprehension, only to find Alastor looking rather distracted with—unease? embarrassment?
He was still warring between the two as he said, “I was also hoping… I could borrow a record.”
Lucifer blinked. Then he glanced to the side, where Alastor’s shadow was practically perched for attack on the opposite wall, and against his better judgement said, “Are you sure? Tall, dark and creepy over there seems ready to tear out both our jugulars.”
Thankfully, this didn't immediately send Alastor off running, for he just said, “I hope you’re not holding your breath for it to stop doing that anytime soon.”
Lucifer shrugged. “I won’t if you won’t. Do you wanna come in?”
“That would be among the minimal requirements for me to retrieve said record, yes.”
Now that sounded more like his usual self. Lucifer stepped aside with a minimal roll of his eyes.
Alastor walked in without any overt hesitation, but with a rather tense set to his shoulders, which Lucifer couldn’t even tell if it was normal or not, as he couldn’t remember ever seeing Alastor without his suit jacket on before. Still, paired with the uncharacteristic knocking, and with the fact that his shadow remained on the other side of the door, it was… strange. Or perhaps Lucifer was projecting.
It had been a while since he was last here, hadn’t it? Only a couple weeks, but still enough for Lucifer to feel momentarily self-conscious with the state of his rooms. He could’ve been more careful with his latest batch of paper mache. Then again, it technically wasn’t anything Alastor hadn’t seen before.
As if to prove that, Alastor didn’t waste any time in going straight to his towers of records and kneeling on the floor before them.
Coming to lean against an armchair, Lucifer tried for casualness and fell just short of it. “So… what are you looking for?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Alastor said. “Mind if I browse for a while?”
“Not at all. Go wild.” Maybe too much casualness.
He sorely wished he’d already found something to do before Alastor got here, if only to save him the embarrassment of merely standing awkwardly in the middle of his own living room as he tried not to look as if he was staring.
Right, he still had his gloves in his hands. He went to the nearest shelf and spent a frankly embarrassing amount of time folding and unfolding and folding them back. Why the fuck was he so nervous? He’d practically fallen asleep on the man(-presenting probably agender eldritch deer entity) on several past occasions! This was ridiculous. He folded his gloves one last time and left his ring on top of them too. For now.
Alastor was now sitting cross-legged on the floor, turning a couple records this way and that.
“What are you planning to do if the meeting goes awry?” he asked, as if he’d felt Lucifer’s eyes back on him. He probably had, the creepy fucker.
Lucifer shrugged. “Comfort her, remind her of the benefits of therapy, bake her a cake, and plan our next steps.”
Alastor hummed noncommittally. “No, I meant if something happens to her or she doesn’t return.”
“Ah, that. Raze Heaven to the ground, of course.”
“Do you think you could?”
“I know I would.” Lucifer frowned. “You’re not helping with my nerves.”
“If I wanted to help with your nerves, I would’ve held your hand,” Alastor said lightly.
“Overconfident much?”
“Always.” Yet there was a smile audible in his voice.
Liar, Lucifer thought. But even so, he couldn’t reign in a smile of his own. “It will be fine.”
“How do you know?”
Because he had to believe that or he’d lose his mind. “Because I know who I reached out to.”
“One of your better siblings, I assume?”
“Something like that,” Lucifer sighed. “You’ve been looking at that one a while.”
“What? Ah.” Alastor looked down at the record in his lap. “Yes… It’s been a while since I listened to it.”
“You can have it, if you want.”
“Thank you, but I’m still not done perusing.”
“You can take more than one.”
“How very generous.” But he did place the record aside from the others before going back to rifling through the rest.
Lucifer decided to stop being a weirdo and take his usual place, leaning back against his desk. This way, he could even make eye contact with Alastor if need be. In lieu of anything else to do with his hands, he picked a random duck and started using it as a fidget toy.
In the light of his desk lamp, the embroidery on Alastor’s waistcoat was slightly more pronounced, the black thread glinting almost golden as it formed swirls upon swirls of ivy and belladonna.
“The new suit’s nice.”
“I know,” Alastor said coolly. Yet, a few seconds later, he glanced up at Lucifer with a smidge more warmth. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They sat in something resembling their past comfortable silence after that, with Lucifer reshaping the duck into something more engaging and Alastor making good progress through the mountain of records. Lucifer had ended up with a multifaceted, many-winged duck with at least three beaks by the time Alastor let out a soft sound of victory and held up a vinyl of King Oliver.
“That the one?” Lucifer asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
Yet instead of getting up and leaving right then, Alastor set the record on top of the other one and inclined his head. His ears flicked a few times. “You’ve turned the radio back on.”
He had. “I did.”
“Why?”
Lucifer shrugged. “I missed the weather broadcast.”
“I’m not going to put it any later simply because of your complaints.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Good.”
So he did notice. Lucifer had assumed he would, but started doubting himself when the minutes passed without Alastor mocking him for it.
How strange, then, that Alastor still kept the static in his voice as faint as it had always been in this room. It probably didn’t do to look too hard into it, but it had to be said that Lucifer was one push away from clawing at the walls of his curiosity.
“I was thinking of shortening it in favour of a new section on interplanar affairs,” Alastor went on. “Not that there’s much to say yet, but it’s good to create precedent in case something does come to light from Charlie’s newest endeavour. Goodness knows you can’t trust that Killjoy woman to have monopoly over heavenly news, it’s like misinformation and fear-mongering got drunk and birthed her.”
Lucifer laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you properly insult a woman.”
“I know a bitch when I see one.”
Lucifer laughed even harder, until he had to wipe tears out the corner of his eyes. “I don't think I’m legally allowed to comment on journalists’ conduit, but yes, it’s probably good to have a way to share what we find out. It’s not like anything remains a secret for long down here, so we could at least be the first to divulge it.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“It would be a shame for the weather, though,” he went on thoughtlessly. “It has a good pace right now, and it’s a good transition from Traffic to Listener Requests. But, uh, actually, don’t listen to me, I have no idea what I’m talking about, and it’s your work.”
Alastor seemed to overlook that whole tirade, though. “I could cut back on the Community Calendar instead. It’s like you said, everyone is already all up in everyone’s business at all hours.”
It finally struck Lucifer that perhaps Alastor didn’t want to leave just yet.
That he’d been buying time ever since he’d stepped inside this room, as if time wasn’t something Lucifer was more than willing to give him freely, as much as he wanted, no pretences or excuses needed. The thought filled him with a protective sort of warmth, but he knew better than to say anything out loud. So, instead, he pushed himself up on his desk and made himself comfortable.
“Oh, yeah? Mind getting me up to date? I’m quite out of the loop.”
“I assure you everyone is vividly aware of that,” Alastor shot back easily.
He did follow it with a rather entertaining summary of the latest wicked things going on in the Pride Ring, though, and Lucifer truly could’ve asked for nothing more. Even the gory bits sounded funny after a certain hour.
For once, Lucifer didn’t fall asleep mid-conversation, nor did he require manhandling to get him to his bedroom. Alastor stayed for a couple hours, talking at first about his broadcast, then delving alongside Lucifer into the plans for the new pavilion, criticising his ornamental choices and complimenting his colour schemes somehow at the same time.
It was nice, and it was comfortable, and by the time Alastor bid him goodnight, his shadow was almost asleep outside of Lucifer’s rooms, so it didn’t even bother snarling Lucifer’s way. Progress?
Lucifer carried his overfolded gloves back to his dresser without bothering to turn on any lights. The rain bathed his entire bedroom in a sickly yellow-green glow, but it was quieter here.
He looked down at the ring in his hand; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had it off for this long. That was a lie. He remembered most of those times because they were each paired with a series of depressive episodes that had caused at least a dozen rooms in the palace to be burned to cinders.
Still, he—
Without letting himself spare a second thought, he flicked his wrist and a small ornate box appeared on top of the dresser. Red, white and gold, inlaid with meticulous depictions of stars, suns, flowers and feathers. A wedding gift from before Hell had been created.
He couldn’t remember what had been in it before, but now it was a lot of Charlie. Her first lock of hair, her first fang, the first thing she’d burnt to a cinder (her pacifier) and the first thing she’d summoned from nothingness (a new pacifier). There was little that was not her. A dried-up apple seed from Eden, a shard of his old halo, Lily’s first black feather.
And, now, in the pattering silence of the hotel, Lucifer placed his wedding ring amongst them too, after one last kiss goodbye. He didn’t send the box back to the palace this time, though. They were all making progress. They were all doing the unimaginable here. For the first time, there were enough things to look forward to that he no longer felt the need to run and hide from everything in his past.
He could sit with it—maybe. He could certainly try.
It was morning before he even noticed it, and the radio beside his bed crackled to life with the first broadcast of the day. Lucifer finally laid himself down in bed.
Morning announcements, news on the Doomsday District’s latest kerfuffles, the usual corrections on Voxtech’s latest fake news, Community Corner, Traffic, and then—
“—I’m sure all of us have been privy to the unseasonal bouts of rain we’ve had these days. Ah, weather, that cruel mistress! There are reports, as always, of upcoming fire and brimstone in the Doomsday and Carmine Districts, as well as a healthy downpour of electrified hail in the Entertainment District. Good riddance. You can expect the usual lightning sprites in the suburbs and along the highway, as well as poison clouds and dust storms around the border. If you plan to go out of Pentagram City this week, then you can expect—”
Yes, there was the cadence Lucifer had missed. Mix it with the fact that the weather was the one thing he could not control in this damn place, and thus none of his concern, and this was the calmest his brain had been the whole day. He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, finally feeling sleep extend its scarce tendrils towards him. But before he could drift off completely, the broadcast took a new, leisurely tone.
“—and now, before our next section, we’ll prolong this weather broadcast with something to take your minds away from the horrors just announced. I didn’t have the pleasure to meet this esteemed lady when I was alive, born and dead a few decades too early, and to this day it’s one of my few earthly regrets. So let’s meet her now, even if through her work alone. It’s a long one, and there are still a couple hours before the rest of the world wakes, so if any of you are just now lying down, sleep well.”
Nina Simone started singing, all mellow nostalgy, almost a lullaby. It sounded much softer than it ever had on his gramophone.
Lucifer smiled up at the ceiling and for once, when he felt his eyes burn, he didn’t fight it, just let the tears flow. They didn’t last long, but he felt lighter for it anyway. And he fell asleep before the song was even over.