Chapter Text
He’s barely stepped foot into the symposium, and already Lucifer regrets coming.
The lull in conversation is obvious, with no one attempting to even hide the fact that they’re openly staring at him. And, certainly, why wouldn’t they, when the God of the Underworld, usually holed up in his realm for centuries at a time, has shown up at a gathering? More so when it’s not one of any consequence, as far as Lucifer is aware.
Then again, at this point very little registers as “of consequence” to him.
Lucifer dislikes this sort of attention, so it’s a relief when the conversation picks back up again a few beats later—unnaturally loud perhaps—and he is mostly ignored.
Does it bother him that the other gods show little to no respect? Simply nodding or curtly bowing as he walks by, looking for a comfortable spot or food and drink he can hold? Not at all. Small talk isn’t in his skill set, and he knows he should recognize a lot more faces than he currently does, so he’s thankful if nothing else.
Perhaps they stay away because Lucifer’s realm is one even Gods have an aversion to. He certainly understands that; he hardly stands his own dominion, but there’s little he can do about it.
He sees Sera glance at him and duck her head, and Lucifer smiles ruefully. That has nothing to do with fear of the Underworld.
Indeed, even if in the beginning Lucifer sought solace in the belief his isolation was the fault of the Underworld alone, now he assumes they stay away mostly because he’s not good company. Well, they’re not wrong so he can’t blame them, can he?
He finds himself at the bar, where an unknown God with cat features and wings silently hands him a glass of mead. Lucifer gives him a quick nod before he dashes off in search of somewhere less crowded.
If not an isolated spot, it would be nice if he could find a familiar face whose company he can enjoy, at least for a while. He’d even be thankful for Ozzie’s endless gushing of his own perfect love life, right about now. Not like he’s lonely or anything, though.
In the end, he has to settle with leaning against a pillar (so many of those to choose from, how many aeons will it take for some other architectural style to be in vogue?), nursing his mead as he stares blankly into space.
Why had he bothered coming?
“Dad!” a familiar voice cries out.
Ah, yes, the reason why is pushing her way towards him now. And what a perfect reason it is! Lucifer certainly has no regrets in coming here. Absolutely none, it never crossed his mind at all.
Charlie manages to bypass some very rude louts before Lucifer can do something about them, and she soon finds herself in the empty circle that is usually Lucifer’s immediate surroundings.
“Dad! You made it!” Charlie is beaming down at him.
“Of course, anything for my Char-Char.” Especially when they’d lost contact for a while. His fault, certainly, and any olive branch she extends, he’s taking. A symposium is nothing.
Nevermind that they’re just both staring at each other with frozen smiles though, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly as their hands extend and retract, neither certain of how much physical touch is okay right now.
“So… you had something to show me?” Lucifer ventures desperately. He tries taking a sip of his drink for some liquid courage and is disgusted when it’s clearly not strong enough for anything. Why is this mead the drink of the Gods if it can’t get one drunk!?
“Oh, yes! I wanted to introduce you to my friends, who are helping me with the humans! There’s—”
Ah, right, her latest project, whatever that may be. Lucifer’s opinion of mortals is… as low as the Underworld he reigns over. But he’ll be damned if he spoils this reunion by pointing it out.
“—who you must have met, since you have a drink.” Charlie is saying, and Lucifer inwardly curses when he realizes he’s tuned out just as she was pointing someone out to him. “And then there’s Alastor, who should be arriving any moment now...”
“Alastor,” Lucifer says speculatively, grasping at the name he did manage to catch this time, rolling it around his tongue.
“Right. He’s the God of Spring, and oh, dad, he’s been so helpful! Without him we wouldn’t have gotten the others onboard and he has really good ideas and—”
Lucifer tries his hardest to not grimace as Charlie rambles on and on about this Alastor. His daughter, his precious daughter, gushing about some guy!
No, no, he has to play it cool. He’s a good dad... Okay, he isn’t, but he wants to be. Good dads accept that their little girls will leave the nest eventually and have their own family, right?
And it’s not like she’s trying to shack up to the God of Thunder, so that’s good.
Plus, God of Spring, eh?
Far be it for Lucifer to judge based on title—he knows he himself is a joke in that regard—but c’mon, spring? Spring is… good. It’s pretty and flowery and gentle and breezy.
Not that any upstart is worthy of Charlie, but hey, an inoffensive and gentle guy would have to do. Sure, a God of Spring isn’t going to do much protecting, is he, but that’s fine! That’s what Lucifer is for, Charlie can always come to him for that sort of—
“Oh, there he is right now!” Charlie interrupts his train of thought.
Lucifer zeroes in on the grandiose door of the Parthenon, ready to take stock of this flimsy little God that thinks he’s worthy of his daughter and…
…And doesn’t see him.
“Where is he, Char-Char?” He coughs with embarrassment.
“What? Right, there, by the doors.”
“Sorry dear, I think he’s being obscured by that feral looking beanpole all in red. Heh, I like his style, quite dapper. But seriously, I can’t see your guy.”
“Oh dad, you and your humor! You almost got me there!”
As Charlie giggles, the wheels inside Lucifer’s head turn and he realizes what’s happening.
“That’s the God of Spring? ” He hisses. “Are you sure that’s not his… guardian bloodhound? Uh, I mean!” he backtracks quickly, seeing the look in Charlie’s eyes, “got you again! It’s just an old man’s sense of humor, pay it no mind, hahaha…”
Lucifer’s eyes stray to the newcomer as he again inwardly curses again.
He’s nowhere near them, but Lucifer’s eyesight can be better than most when he wills it, and he’s definitely willing it now.
The red on red getup isn’t even the main issue. Lot’s of inoffensive and pretty flowers are red. Who’s judging?
Certainly, Phanes and powers that be do have a sense of humor. They gave the pathetic old him the destiny of caring for the Underworld, after all. A place only losing in depression to his own self.
Oh, alright, so maybe it was kind of fitting.
But Alastor? He had to be a prank gone wrong, surely. Perhaps a God banging someone he shouldn’t have, and the spawn getting cursed as collateral? Tale as old as Gods, really.
Because Alastor evokes a lot of thoughts when first perceived, but none that are anywhere near… Spring.
Okay, maybe Lucifer is being really unfair right now. It’s not as if said God is causing mayhem as he makes his way. Lucifer had jokingly called him feral, but really, he is behaving.
Yes, maybe Lucifer had it in his head that he’d have a cute little fluffy doormat of a son in law that he could bulldoze—err, gently persuade to his point of view, all the while treating Charlie with the adoration and love she deserves. So when he saw Alastor instead, his mind might have catastrophized things somewhat.
And he doesn’t even have the common sense to make his way immediately to Lucifer’s precious daughter, instead threading his way slowly as he walks and interacting with whom he wishes leisurely.
He looks haughty and pompous; which is too much hubris for Lucifer’s liking when he’s a mere God of Spring in a symposium containing all the major Gods.
The smile is also offputting. When Charlie smiles, Lucifer can feel his soul ascend to a higher plane. In contrast, Alastor seems to smile endlessly; but it looks more like he’s just showing off his dangerously sharp teeth. Which fits the look in his eyes; there’s no warmth there.
Moreover, contrary to what Lucifer doesn’t doubt is popular belief, Lucifer hasn’t held on to the Underworld for this long out of sheer luck.
He has instincts, honed by need if not by desire. And Lucifer’s instincts are telling him Alastor is dangerous. His initial assessment of ‘feral’ came out for a reason.
He notices a few lesser God’s slinking away, wary, as Alastor passes, and it solidifies his conclusion.
In any other situation, Lucifer might have at least acknowledged this deity as being interesting, perhaps even fascinating if he was feeling generous. But that’s not what he wants for his daughter. She needs and deserves love and affection and security and worship and trustworthiness and… Alastor doesn’t look capable of any of that. Gods often aren’t capable of anything beyond their own interest.
Is he really the God of Spring? Oh, he is wearing a flower crown at least… no, wait, Lucifer squints and realizes it’s a crown of cockroaches.
Maybe the God of Spring Weapons... ? Nah, the mortals haven’t gotten anywhere near inventing those yet, and Lucifer isn’t sharing his blueprints. Which he will deny even having.
So maybe he tricked Charlie? His precious sunshine can be a little… naive, sometimes. Too trusting. Yeah, so maybe this fellow waltzed in, lied about his dominion, then charmed her with his looks—
—And Lucifer really doesn’t mean anything by that. It’s an objective observation. Really. He may have been a bad absentee dad, but a dad that takes from his own daughter? No siree, even he has a bottom line.
If he’s planning to break this up, it’s because Alastor is clearly shady and he needs to protect Charlie from anything unsavory.
As Alastor nears them, Lucifer starts to calculate if he can get away with skipping the whole shovel talk and going straight to the shovel. Doesn’t even have to be a metaphorical shovel, he can produce a really sturdy—
“Dad.” Charlie’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and he focuses to find there’s now a Goddess next to her.
“Sorry sweetie, I was,” deciding on which of the five rivers to chuck his body parts, “err…sorry. What was it?” Fuck it, I’ll chuck a little in each.
“Dad, I was introducing Vaggie,” Charlie proudly pushes the girl towards him. “Vaggie, this is my dad. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Vaggie.”
Lucifer’s brain, going on 100 miles per minute, comes to a screeching halt.
“Hello, sir, Hades, I—”
His mental faculties quickly start back up.
“Nonono, dear! Please, no need to use my formal title for the mortals, call me Lucifer! Or Luci, or pal, or anything!” Lucifer grabs her shoulders and reels her in closely, hoping the smile on his face is warm and welcoming.
(But judging by how she’s sweating, he’s failing.)
“So, you like girls! So do I! We have something in common, Char-Char!” Well, he actually goes either way, but it’s important to establish a connection, right?
His relief is so tangible, he nearly hugs Maggie.
Not that women were inoffensive. Phanes only knew the horror stories Lucifer could tell of those. Lucifer alone had…quite a history with them.
No, no, Maggie’s gender isn’t a deterrent to her being a danger, one way or another. What relieves him though, is that Maggie isn’t trying to look like she’s better than the rest. She doesn’t look like a walking murder machine and she seems appropriately nervous to be in Lucifer’s presence, but she looks softly at Charlie whenever she’s speaking.
Speaking of which, Lucifer realizes there’s now a tall swath of red standing right next to his daughter, and turns to see Alastor had joined them at one point. Looking closely now, Lucifer takes stock of some more mild features. The ears and cute little antlers that denote something of a deer in the God. But that’s really the only thing that suggests Alastor is not reigning over something caustic such as war or murder.
Charlie uses this moment to introduce them. “Dad, this is the God of Spring, Persephone, or Alastor. Alastor, this is the God of the Underworld, Hades, or Lucifer.”
“A pleasure to be meeting you, sire,” Alastor says enthusiastically, moving closer and somehow grasping and shaking Lucifer’s cane rather than his hand. “Quite a pleasure. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”
While Lucifer may feel less inclined to dispose of Alastor outright, now that it’s been established he isn’t Charlie’s boyfriend, that doesn’t mean he now likes the alleged God of Spring. He still gives off an aura of suspicion that Lucifer would rather steer far away from his little sunshine. And now he’s adding rudeness to that view.
“What are you? The servant?” ‘Cup Bearer’ would be giving him too much credit.
Before Alastor can retort, Charlie glances at something in the distance and gasps. “Vaggie, there’s Emily! Oh, we can go tell her about the next steps. Oh, but, hm…”
Lucifer notes her hesitation and realizes it’s aimed at him.
“Don’t worry Char-Char, you go do your thing. I mean, you’re so popular, of course you’ll have other people to talk to! Just remember you always have your dad here if you need anything. Which, of course, you’re bound to, because I can do anything. But until that, I’ll just…uh…” He can’t tell her he’ll just try and get drunk, can he? Shit, is there any familiar face nearby he can at least pretend to talk to?
Sharp claws descend upon his shoulder.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” a voice comes from above, all honeyed solicitousness, “I am more than free to entertain your father. It should be of… little consequence.”
…Was Lucifer just uptight, or did that last part sound like a veiled dig at his height? And hold up, did he just call Charlie, ‘my dear’?
“Oh really, Alastor! That’s great, that means you two can bond!”
“Of course! And we have so much to bond over! Him, being your father, me being the active fatherly figure in your life…”
Lucifer hisses. “Now hold on a moment…!”
“Charlie,” Maggie says hurriedly, already pulling Charlie away, “we’ll lose Emily in the crowd, let’s go.”
Lucifer waits until both are out of sight and hearing range before he rounds up to Alastor again.
“Alright, asshole, why are you around my daughter? You don’t seem like the sort to be onboard with her vision.”
“You wound me. We’ve barely met and already you treat your daughter’s most trusted advisor like this,” Alastor says with theatrical hurt, but all Lucifer does is roll his eyes. Surprisingly, Alastor shrugs and discards that line of defense. “Do you even know what her current project is?”
Lucifer should’ve seen that coming. And he thinks Charlie did, in fact, tell him, but he’s certain it went through one ear and out the other.
“Uh… to help mortals?” Shit, he didn’t want that to come out so unsure.
Alastor, however, decides to not gnaw on that, despite how much humiliation bone Lucifer has all but presented to him. Instead, Alastor gives him a look, before carrying on as if either of them truly believe that reply was sufficient.
“Indeed. As for why I have thrown my lot alongside hers… why, for entertainment, of course!”
Lucifer growls. “My daughter is not entertainment.”
“Who said she was?”
“Then?”
“I consider her latest venture an ongoing entertainment for myself. An investment, if you will. I want to watch the foolish mortals struggle to climb up the hill of betterment, only to repeatedly trip and stumble back into their futile and miserable little lives.”
Well shit, this fella is more fucked in the head than Lucifer anticipated.
“...You do realize I’ll just tell Charlie you said that, yeah? Or do you think she won’t believe me?”
“My, what little faith you have, sire. What makes you think I didn’t already tell dear Charlie exactly that?”
“Really? You basically told Charlie ‘I came here to laugh at you’ and she took you on regardless?” Lucifer’s eyes narrow and his hair stands on end as something comes to him. “You didn’t… make a deal did you?”
Alastor, again, looks at him with fake affront. “Once again, my character is being unduly put into question. And now Charlie’s is, too. I’d expect you to respect her, at least. Tsk tsk.” He waggles his finger patronizingly close to Lucifer’s face, and it’s hard to not take a bite out of it.
“What’s that supposed to mean? And don’t you change the subject, did you—”
“There was no deal. Your patience is even shorter than your height. We simply settled on my helping her for as long as I felt like it. We didn’t even shake hands on it. As for the lack of respect towards your daughter, is that not obvious? You were clearly assuming that Charlie is so foolish as to enter a contract for some help on a silly little project. What a notion! My, you should be writing Comedies. Charlie is brightly optimistic, yes, but she’s not a brainless fool.”
Unlike you, went unsaid.
When put like that… Lucifer subdues, feeling contrite. Towards Charlie, of course.
“Alas, and that wasn’t even your first disrespect towards Charlie, was it?” Alastor plows on, smile widening as much as Lucifer deflates. “You also expressed disbelief that she’d take me on after my sincere presentation of my interest. Now, Charlie acknowledges that certain ventures require more than a hug and a kiss to get off the ground, and as such, while she may not be thrilled at our disparaging goals, she realizes I bring to the table other useful things. Such as contacts, personnel, protection…”
“I could have given her all of those!” Lucifer blurts out before he can stop himself.
And Alastor simply responds with the obvious: he raises an eyebrow and scoffs out, “Well, why didn’t you?”
…There’s no point in replying, is there? Lucifer knows he’s lost, as he’ll always lose when the subject is his parenting.
He could erase Alastor, and no one would even know. Perks of being Hades, God of the Underworld, after all. But that wouldn’t change the important part, which is that, yes, if Charlie accepted help from the most suspicious motherfucker around, it’s because Lucifer failed to be a father.
“...If you hurt her, you will contend with me.”
Alastor taps his own cane, looking down at Lucifer with ridicule. “Ah, but how w—”
“Heeeey, what’s up, bitches?”
Fuck, someone just as bad as Alastor has arrived..
Adam, God of Thunder, comes to view, clearly still the insufferable cocky bastard Lucifer remembered him to be.
“Who the fuck are you?” Adam asks, glancing at Alastor. But after one appraising gaze clearly tells him Alastor is not a new Goddess he hasn’t fucked yet, Adam immediately loses interest. “Eh, you don’t need to answer, I don’t care.”
As Lucifer tries not to snicker—far be it for him to boost Adam’s ego—Adam swivels to him, and any goodwill he’d gotten by undermining Alastor is immediately lost when he next opens his mouth.
“Short stuff! Didn’t expect to see you come crawling out of whatever hole you hid in anytime soon. Or ever. Fuck, I was wondering if someone had, like, sealed the entrances to the Underworld as a prank? And no one noticed? That’d be fucking funny.”
Lucifer’s smile stiffens as he grits his teeth, but before he can think of a retort—which isn’t hard, he just has to remind Adam how many of his women Lucifer has fucked—Adam makes it oh so much worse.
“So! Where’s your daughter at? She’s hot right? I heard she’s a good singer. What’s her name, Charles? That’s her only name, right, she doesn’t even have a title yet, right? Kinda hilarious, mingling with the mortals, when she doesn’t even have a name among them.”
Lucifer’s knuckles turn white with the strength he is holding his cane with, as he feels power already surging within him.
It’s bad enough that someone like Adam might dare show interest in Charlie. To see her as another conquest he’ll discard as soon as he gets her. But no, Adam had to go and insult her, too.
How dare he act like there was something wrong just because Charlie hasn’t gotten a title, or a second name, yet? It’s good that she’s not beholden to anything and can be free, she’s not less than for it!
(Lucifer certainly doesn’t want to reflect that maybe his own issues with the slight come from the fact he’s spent many sleepless nights wondering if the delay is his fault. He often curses his own destiny. He often wishes he was anything else. Could it be that Charlie was born directionless as punishment for his dissatisfaction?)
“Ha,” Alastor’s unmistakable voice interrupts Lucifer’s slow build up and explosion. “I certainly understand where your sentiment is coming from.”
That’s it, I’m taking him out alongside —
“After all,” Alastor drawls on, staring at his nails, unaware of the imminent danger, “I can see why you’d be threatened by a titleless Goddess such as Charlie. My, with the potential she has, her eventual title could very well dethrone you."
Adam snorts. "You think some random newborn babe could ever catch up to the God of fucking Thunder?"
"You've certainly not made that difficult, have you, given how sloppily you've maintained your post? And it would be much harder to go around clumsily spreading your seed, without relying on the prestige of your position, wouldn’t it?”
Lucifer can’t help the chortle that comes out. Fuck, maybe Alastor has too much ego too, but Lucifer thinks he deserves this one boost.
But while his fury is appeased, Adam’s grows instead.
“What was that, you little punk?” His hands are already balling into fists, electricity dancing between the fingertips.
Ah, here we go.
It doesn’t matter if Alastor’s tongue is as sharp as his teeth, because Adam is proud of not needing to use his brains when he can use his powers to retaliate.
Alastor is clearly too foolish for his own good. Picking a fight with Lucifer is bad enough, but at least Lucifer can be merciful, especially if it means not emotionally harming his daughter. But Adam has no such restraints, a mere God of Spring won’t last a second.
Nonetheless, even if it’s a lesson Lucifer thinks Alastor should learn, here and now he’s in danger due to defending Charlie’s reputation, and Lucifer would be remiss if he allows him to be punished for that.
“Speaking of spreading your seed,” Lucifer interjects quickly, pushing until he’s shoulder to sho— arm with Alastor, drawing Adam’s attention back to him. “I don’t see your latest girl here, have you not introduced her to your wife yet?” He had no idea if Adam is still a slut, or if he had a current side piece, but judging by Alastor’s words, it seems that too had not changed, so Lucifer took a risk. “Why don’t you go do that, and stay clear of my daughter.”
He meant to only show a little bit of power, just enough to remind Adam that things will turn ugly if they both start fighting here, and that he should heed his words.
Yet judging from how the silence is stretching around them, he may have put more into it than advised. Oh well, it’s not as if he has friends to lose; hopefully Charlie is too far to see any of it.
For one tense moment Adam doesn’t react, then he’s raising his hands up.
“Woah, there,” he laughs, voice filled with mockery, but Lucifer notices the half step he takes back. “Chillax bro, it was a fucking joke! Eesh, I’ll leave you two boring losers to do whatever losers do. Adam… out!”
With a middle finger, Adam turns around and picks a random direction to go… only to realize he’s heading towards Charlie, and quickly changes course, grabbing the first goddess he finds on the way.
Conversation resumes again, though now the empty circle surrounding Lucifer is visibly larger. He sighs.
“Is the God of Thunder,” Alastor says, making Lucifer aware he’s still there, “always this much of an inarticulate buffoon?”
Lucifer blinks up at him.
“...What?” Alastor demands, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Oh, uh, I’m just surprised you’re asking. I mean, even if it’s the first time you’ve interacted, usually he’s such a noisy asshole that even from afar you can see that he’s, yes, always an inarticulate buffoon. And an asshole. Oh, already called him that. And promiscuous. I thought his wife would’ve beaten that last part out of him by now. Maybe he likes it...”
“...This happens to be my first time being invited to a symposium containing the higher Gods,” Alastor admits, but then makes a show of offhandedly adjusting his already immaculately pinned robes. “Not that I wasn’t getting invited before, of course. But I was taking a well earned sabbatical during the last gathering, and before that I hadn’t been born.”
Lucifer is taken aback at that. Yes, he hadn’t heard of the God of Spring before now, but he’d been holed up in the Underworld for centuries and his lack of interest in gossip means he has no network of information for news from outside—which is now turning into into a problem since he’d very much like news on his daughter. However, while indeed symposiums for the whole pantheon are rare, they still occur every fifty years, give or take. While he’d assumed Alastor was young, he hadn’t imagined that he’d be barely a century old. He certainly comports himself as someone much older.
Ah shit, he’s said the last sentence out loud. An accursed result of only talking to rubber ducks for so long.
He feels himself color, and glances up at Alastor, expecting him to be preening and mocking him for it. Perhaps with a side order of ‘I can give you tips’.
Instead, he finds Alastor looks almost…disconcerted. The smile is still there, but his body language seems to say he hadn’t been expecting the compliment either.
“Why… thank you,” he finally says, and leaves it at that.
The peaceful finality of it is somehow worse. Lucifer can do insults all night, but now that Alastor has accepted the compliment with poise, they were in polite conversation territory. A territory even further away to Lucifer than Mount Olympus normally was from his lair.
Oh well, they haven’t reached a stage where Lucifer feels guilty for not being a good conversation partner either. Had Adam not united them for a brief spell, they might even have escalated the infighting. The momentary unity hasn’t made Lucifer any more okay with Alastor around his daughter. His entertainment spiel reeked of either bullshit or untrustworthiness. However, Lucifer is… willing not to threaten him more than he already has, for now. Maybe he doesn’t even need to; Alastor just saw how he dealt with Adam.
So Lucifer relaxes and looks around aimlessly, waiting for Alastor to get tired of the awkward silence and leave. Which he does, not a minute later.
Whew, that was fast —
Lucifer can barely soak in the peace of not feeling like he had to say something, when Alastor materializes back besides him. And…how are shadow tentacles related to spring, exactly? Shouldn’t that be Lucifer’s thing?
“Here,” Alastor says, and practically forces a new drink into Lucifer’s hands. Lucifer blinks at the proffered glass, making his now empty one disappear, and sniffs it suspiciously.
“This… isn’t mead.”
“My, how sharp you are, sire! Indeed, that is obviously not mead. Far be it for me to question the drink of the Gods but… variety does add intrigue does it not? What you’re holding is a new concoction by Husk. Dionisius is how the mortals call him, I believe. Speaking of them, they haven’t invented this drink yet, and tragically it seems they won’t for some time yet. He’s calling it whiskey, for now.”
Lucifer thought his initial tone meant Alastor was trying to take them back into fighting, which Lucifer is ready to welcome; but as Alastor keeps speaking, it dawns on Lucifer that the other God sincerely wants him to try the drink.
Maybe that is his way of replying to the compliment: not with another in kind, but with something he feels is of interest.
Well, even if he is secretly the God of Poisons, I doubt he can harm me.
Reassuring himself of his own durability—if only because he’s certainly tried to end said durability too many times before he had Charlie, Lucifer takes a swig.
And another.
“Oh… this is… pretty good. I mean, it’s not mead but… yeah, it is nice to taste something else for a change.”
Now Alastor is preening, ears perking up. “Indeed. Of course, not every new thing can be good. Too much innovation can oftentimes remove the core and essence of something. More so when it is done out of sentiment of indolence. However, it seems at the very least this whiskey is worthy of acknowledgement from time to time.”
Lucifer hums in agreement, and falls back to silence, enjoying his new drink. He expects Alastor to eventually leave for real this time, but surprisingly he stays, also slowly enjoying his own cup.
For a moment Lucifer wonders if they are the same in this regard; both with the ability—or curse—to find themselves far off in their own heads no matter where they were physically present. But watching Alastor he realizes that’s not it at all. They may have arrived at the same acceptance of silent companionship, but for different reasons. Whereas Lucifer’s mind wanders far from the location, Alastor is clearly in rapt observation of their surroundings. Eyes following different Gods interacting with acute focus. And perhaps those fluffy ears mean he has an easier time eavesdropping.
Well, whatever it is he's observing, it’s nice to have something in his immediate circle without the toll of trying to keep chatter going.
Seemingly per Lucifer’s very fate, his comfort is not long lasting.
The gentle background tune that had been playing throughout the gathering so far comes to a screeching stop, replaced by something much raunchier. Too raunchy, in fact, this had Adam’s hands all over—
“Alright, bitches!” Adam’s voice hollers from afar, confirming Lucifer’s suspicions. “I want all the sexy ladies shaking ass. Dudes can fuck off!”
The male gods, however, are too used to him to pay him any mind. Or at least, know they can afford to disregard Adam as long as they don’t touch whichever lady he has his sights on.
“Far be it for me to heed his words,” Alastor says with gritted teeth, and Lucifer is amused to see him squirming when a couple passes by doing quite explicit dance moves, “but I do think this is my cue to leave.”
“Aw, too young to handle this sort of thing?” Really, the God of Spring is averse to some friskiness? Hilarious.
“Are you not too old to thirst for this?”
“Who says I’m thirsty?” More like, very very lonely. “I’m simply not a newborn prude.”
“I see. Well, enjoy leering at the vulgar display, then.”
Well shit. Lucifer really has no qualms about this sort of stuff; if he had a partner, maybe he’d be showing off his moves. But being a wallflower, watching everyone else get it on? Creepy and sad, too much so even for him. “Nah, I’m just saying I don’t mind. I won’t stay either.”
“Oh? Well, seeing as you are the older one amongst the two us, well weathered in—”
Was Alastor trying to insult him again? With age now?
“—such parties and no doubt well versed in this location… I don’t suppose you’d happen to know a place to recommend, perhaps, less crowded?”
“Hm? You seemed to be enjoying watching the crowd just a minute ago.”
There is a minute pause and Alastor’s eyes narrow momentarily before he goes back to his airy self. “I am honored to have been the focus of such an illustrious figure such as yourself for a moment! It seems hard to keep your focus for long.”
Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have questioned Alastor, but did he have to—
“However, whatever I could glean from this gathering, I have. I doubt there would be anything of use to see anytime soon given this current mood. As such, I would now enjoy far more to be lost in reverie —much like yourself, sir—but in an empty location. If one can be found. And if you’re willing to divulge it.”
He’s not quite asking. And those words were definitely barbed there. But fuck it, Lucifer is in a good mood. He got to threaten Adam, witnessed him getting verbally talked down for insulting his daughter, and found out she’s not dating a suspicious looking prick. As such, he doesn’t refuse him outright, or make him ask properly.
“Weeeeeeell.” Lucifer does a big show of thoroughly inspecting his cane. “There are a lot of less crowded spots, sure. Alcoves, corners, corridors. Pillars. So many pillars. But you know, you aren’t the only prude around. Plus a lot of couples do often use this time to go and have some… alone time…” Actually, he doesn’t see Charlie anywhere, which is good, because even if he doesn’t mind witnessing randoms grinding against each other, his precious daughter doing that might force him to gouge out his own eyes. Shit, where was he? Ah, yes. “So I fear I can point to many that you mind find are better than here but not… fully empty.”
Which, naturally, is a boldfaced lie. Lucifer can count at least five different locations no one but him ought to know. But Alastor doesn’t deserve to know that.
Lucifer waits to see if Alastor deflates, but he doesn't. Yeah, Lucifer did lay it on thick after all.
Fuck it, staying here is getting too awkward. No more dilly daddling. “Look, there is one place that is guaranteed to have no one.”
“Hm, the caveat?”
“There will be me, because that’s where I intend to go. So if my presence is an issue, I suggest trying anywhere else or going back to whatever chariot brought you here and—”
“It is not.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, so off you—oh, really?”
“I assure you, your company is better than…this.”
“Really? Because if you piss me off, I can and will kick you out.”
“Hm, you are easily angered, but I’ll take the risk. I shall be on my best behavior. So long as you are, too.”
Lucifer hadn’t expected him to agree so readily. Maybe he should have; Alastor doesn’t know his way around and is clearly ill at ease staying. Even if Lucifer isn’t good company, he might be better than the alternative.
He considers the option more seriously now. Well, there’s no harm in it, really. Worst thing that could happen is they start the verbal abuse again. Alastor can’t harm even a hair on his head, whereas he can use the private location to beat him up if he goes too far.
As for mental health… eh, fuck that. Sure, the normal thing would be to choose peace and quiet over trading insults with a suspicious young upstart with whom he already started off on the wrong foot. But again, fuck that. Lucifer has had too much quiet in his lifetime. And that’s rarely brought peace, just his own spiraling thoughts that always brought him back to depression.
It wasn’t healthy, and he knew it, but his interactions with Alastor thus far had been more enjoyable than staring into space as people blatantly pretended not to see him, his usual modus operandi in these. Besides, as the God of the Underworld, health was hardly his brand.
“...Well, then follow me. I hope you like flowers.”
*
The Garden is as serene and beautiful as the last time Lucifer had set his eyes on it. Dimly lit, the atmosphere is soothing, the scents are rich and the flowers are, as always, gorgeous.
There’s no variety here, but it fits. All the flowers are the same sort. Pointed, going from five to seven points, shining as white as the stars above them.
“Well?” He makes a complicated motion towards the garden now surrounding them. “This is—”
“The Starlit Garden,” Alastor finishes for him, hands behind his back, having the grace to at least respectfully look around.
Some Gods had the imagination to create, not give names, Lucifer thinks. But he supposes a basic description fits here; no need to purple prose on the name when the sight itself is the poem.
Still, he’d hoped for a little more, from Alastor’s reaction. He supposes expecting awe from him had been foolish.
Glancing away, Lucifer takes stock of a flower he thinks he recognizes. Maybe he indeed does; the Garden of a Goddess is likely to contain flowers that may survive as long as one. Though… what did it say about him that he’d been here enough to start recognizing the flowers?
“Hello again, old pal,” Lucifer murmurs plaintively, before wincing. He really needs to start remembering the things he shouldn’t say in company. He steps back and laughs stupidly. “Ha, just a joke of course, I definitely don’t recognize flowers, haha!”
Alastor hums, then bends his head in an impossible angle, one eyebrow raised, as if listening to something even Lucifer cannot. “Hm, is that so? And yet, it says it recognizes you.”
“What? The flower did?”
Well shit, was Alastor a legitimate God of Spring?
“Indeed. It says you’ve been here a few times before. Ha, it claims to be glad you’ve brought a companion this time, you seemed very lonely.”
Shit, hopefully the dim lighting is hiding his blush from Alastor. And double shit, had he said anything to the flowers that he didn’t want divulged? Lucifer has a tendency to pour his heart out to inanimate objects to compensate for his lack of living companions.
“Are they, uh, saying anything else?”
Oh, wait, whose garden was this again? Yeah, he’d have never risked it. You didn’t need to be the God of Spring to be able to communicate with the very flowers in your garden; and even in his most desolate he’d never have said anything that could be ammunition by the Queen of the Gods…
“Nothing else, other than that it finds you amusing.” Funnily enough, Alastor’s mind seems to have spun to the same place as Lucifer’s, since he adds, “I had heard the tale of this garden. Though it contains nothing as grand or relevant as the Garden of the Hesperides, she supposedly keeps this equally as shut to the public. Now, a little action to keep the heart pumping is always delightful, but please tell me if I should expect a dragon or any other safeguards to come out at any moment to kick us out.”
Contrary to his words of worry, Alastor instead elects to sit unruffled at the very end of the available exedra.
Which, naturally, forces Lucifer to once again confront his own social ineptitude. Where is he supposed to sit? The exedra is pretty long, does he sit on the other side? In the middle?
Fuck it, let’s just lean against the pillar in front of him. Smoothly, smoothly.
“Ha, nothing of the sort,” he finally retorts now that the latest conundrum is resolved. “See, that’s the thing about this place, it is actually open to the public. No immortality fruit here, or anything else of note, bar the beauty of the flowers. But, see, long long ago, she caught some Gods doing the you-know-what.” He pauses. “You get what I mean right, you’re not that young, are you? I meant the—”
“Yes, yes, they were caught in the middle of intercourse. Are you sure you are older than me, why does the thought of sex amuse you so?”
“Because you react to it, heh. I mean, ahem, so, she wasn’t thrilled about it, especially when one of the two happened to be her husband…”
“Ah.”
“Yes. The fallout deserved at least one hymn about it, shame there are none. Regardless, since then she has no interest in seeing any hanky panky in this place, and punishes anyone who tries. Now, between that and the complete forbidden entry of the Garden of the Hesperides…”
“Gods extrapolated and assumed it is inaccessible.”
“Bingo! Thankfully, I remember how it all went down, and I come here for peace and quiet since no one else dares.”
Well, that is not entirely true. Gods are nothing if not daring, and often some would try their luck here. Of course, the couples would be taken care of by the Garden, but should another loner attempt to ruin Lucifer’s respite… well… he had some tricks up his sleeve. They didn’t even know he’d been the one to do it. And if Alastor becomes a nuisance, Lucifer can easily ensure he’s once again the only one coming here.
Speaking of Alastor… a change of scenery did him well.
Or maybe it wasn’t the garden, but Lucifer’s own perception, no longer clouded by the anxiety inducing chatter of the crowded symposium, or his fraught nerves trying to not fuck it up with his daughter, or his immediate judgement of anyone associated with her…
Yeah, Lucifer can admit he might have been a tad jittery when he first judged Alastor. And the other had certainly not helped any; immediately going for the proverbial throat.
But here and now there’s no background chatter, no crowd, no Charlie and Alastor is blessedly quiet and behaved. And Lucifer can maybe assess him differently.
The low light really goes well with his full crimson get up, subduing the colors into something less garish, more appealing. In the dark garden, where the only light is a gentle white, he almost looks like the central focus of a painting. He still has that implacable smile on his face, but it’s so subdued it might just be sincere.
Heck, even the crown on his head looks cute if you can’t notice it’s made out of—
“Like what you see, hm?”
The acidic tone pulls him back to reality. Alastor doesn’t sound proud to think he’s the focus of the God of the Underworld.
“What? Oh, my mind was wondering, I wasn’t looking at you,” Lucifer tries to counter, but Alastor simply raises one eyebrow in response. Shit, was it that obvious when he’s focused or not?
But more importantly how does Lucifer respond?
Does he reply with the truth? But as socially awkward as he is, even Lucifer thinks the truth will sound a lot like flirtation. Then again, who knows with the young folks, it's been too long since his last dalliance, he's rusty... but what if it is taken as such?
The issue with Alastor interpreting as a pick up is if Lucifer even wants that. Oh sure, Alastor is interesting and striking in an unconventional way. And Lucifer likes unconventional. It doesn't take more than that for a one night stand.
But there’s also Charlie. Just because she’s not here now doesn’t mean Lucifer forgot why he was introduced to Alastor in the first place. Suspicious and dangerous might make for a fun romp in the sheets, but it does not belong anywhere near his precious daughter.
As much as a failure he might be in parenting and socializing, even Lucifer knows that trying to screw the man you want to scare into not harming your daughter isn’t advisable.
So, no, he can’t go there. The question, then, is how he gets out of this one without making him look silly or interested?
And then he notices the flowers.
“Okay, fine,” Lucifer says with relief, “I was looking, but not at you. The flowers are all moving towards you. You really are the God of Spring.”
Alastor visibly stiffens. his smile widens immediately, but it’s clearly done for the sake of showcasing those rows of sharp teeth of his.
Lucifer theatrically sighs. “Oh, come now. Do you really care about that? When you choose to look the way you do? Or do you not like your reign?”
That last one must have hit the mark, because Alastor springs up and moves until he’s glaring down at Lucifer, so close their chests are touching.
“I suppose,” he says through gritted teeth, “that the likes of you would certainly understand all about a domain that is woefully unbefitting of him.”
Instead of rising to it, Lucifer chuckles.
“Oh, you think that’s an insult? Or even a novel one?”
He bypasses the now confused Alastor to sit himself down on the exedra. It’s too high and his legs don’t quite reach the ground, so he dangles them up and down to pretend he pays it no mind.
“I do agree I’d prefer if I could have dominion over something less—” His hands flap about, “—less Underworld, really. Dreary place. Awful souls. Take ducks, for example. Why can’t I be the God of Ducks? They’re cute, malleable. Fascinating creatures, really. Nonetheless, fate is the one thing we Gods cannot fight—”
Alastor makes a noise on the back of his throat.
“Well, you are young. It’s valiant to try, I don’t begrudge you that. But I’m way past that. If you wish to fight the chains of your destiny and deny what you are, don’t lose your head every time someone points out the very dichotomy you’ve created. Embrace it. Do, however, always keep in mind that regardless of my opinion of my own power… I am more than willing to use it.”
A pause.
Alastor’s eyes slant again, but Lucifer can see his shoulders are less stiff. “At the very least, you seem willing to try to use words rather than hide behind power from the start, unlike the God of Thunder.”
Lucifer snorts. “Being better than Adam is a really low bar to clear.”
“Perhaps.”
Alastor hesitates, but ultimately chooses to go back to his former seating position. Which now means he and Lucifer are side by side.
Before Lucifer can spiral into a reflection on what the appropriate distancing should be, Alastor reels him back in.
“Is it as dreary as they say?”
“Hm?”
“The Underworld. It is said to be bleak and somber.”
“Oh. Oh yes. Feels like the words bleak and somber were created specifically for it. Depressing as fuck. Damp and moldy. Whatever negative adjective you have, the underworld will fit it.”
“The deceased are not having a pleasant time, then.”
“Ha! Pleasant ? Eternal torture, more like.”
“Sounds lovely.”
Lucifer doesn’t dignify him with a glance. Just because the words didn’t sound sarcastic, it doesn’t mean that wasn’t his intent. “Oh, haha. Since you think it’s lovely, do come and have a look one day.”
Alastor inclines his head. “Hm. I shall take you up on that.”
Lucifer snorts again. No, you will not. Invitations usually resulted in Gods scurrying the opposite way.
Silence falls again. Until it doesn’t, and Lucifer jolts as soothing music starts up around them.
Alastor puts a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder to stop him from standing up and looking for the source. “I felt some music would be appropriate for the ambiance.”
How is this related to Spring? Were the flowers singing? Did flowers have that ability? Granted they weren’t regular ones but…
But the music was good.
“Good choice,” Lucifer admits begrudgingly. It’s nice, really, something with harps and lutes. A tune you’d listen to before going to bed, with no second intentions—
Ah, he is going there again. It’s getting too comfortable here. This is the second time he’s starting to consider some other form of fun, and he can’t. Charlie will always be the priority.
Thus, Lucifer opts to do what he is the best at: ruin shit.
“So,” Lucifer begins, scooting further away so that he can turn his whole body towards Alastor without them touching, “what were you about to say when Adam came?”
Alastor looks down at him, nonplussed. “I thought we’d left that little tiff behind us?”
“I don’t remember that. We simply paused due to a common enemy.”
“You want to be humiliated?”
“Who says I’m the one who’ll come out of this worse for—”
He’s interrupted by the sound of something large breaking in the distance.
Alastor stands up to better look at the direction. “That seemed to come from where the symposium was taking place. Perhaps someone with musical taste took matters into their own hands?”
“Nah.” Lucifer jumps off the seat, already leaving, while motioning for Alastor to follow. “I recognize that sound. Let’s go back and witness some solid entertainment.”
“Of which variety?” Despite the skepticism, Alastor is already walking along.
“The ‘God of Thunder got caught fucking who he shouldn’t and now his wife isn’t pleased’ variety.”
“Oh, that does sound entertaining.”
*
Though they catch the tail end of it, it is enough for Lucifer to witness Adam contritely kneeling on the ground, face so swollen he’s nearly unrecognizable.
Heh, serves you right, asshole.
“Dad!”
To improve his night even further, Charlie finds him amidst the onlookers. “Oh dad, we were just about to leave, I’m so glad I could see you to say goodbye. I’m sorry, I was supposed to show you something but I couldn’t find you—”
“Not to worry, it was my fault for moving!” He makes a mental note to glue himself to the same spot next time. If there’s a next time. Please let there be a next time. “Besides, these gatherings aren’t the best for discussions. We can always schedule some other time and place.” Pleasesayyespleasesay —
“Oh, that’d be great, dad! Thank you so much!”
Yeeeeeeeeeeeeees. “No trouble at all, for my darling. I’ll just check on my very busy schedule when I have an available slot and call you.” Surely he could slot her in between the next depressive episode and anxiety attack. Ah, but will he look overbearing if it’s too soon? Play it cool, play it cool. “Would a few weeks from now work?”
“Yes, thank you so much!”
No, thank you! “You’re welcome!” Shit.
“Oh, and do you know where Alastor went? I wanted to say goodbye to him too.”
“Him?” Actually… Lucifer finally realizes he is alone. When did Alastor leave? “Sorry sweetie, he didn’t say. Careful, this might mean you shouldn’t be too trusting of him with commitments you know…”
Yeah, he got to witness a beat up Adam and his daughter willing to see him again in the very same year. Lucifer was flying so high, he might just reach The Sun God’s lair.
Who cares about some asshole God?
*
Well shit, apparently he does.
Lucifer surprisingly only needs two days of bed rest to deal with the fact that he said “you’re welcome” to his daughter, after which he feels surprisingly well enough to not only get out of bed, but also be productive.
Granted, the production was another rubber duck, but that is better than most days. His mind wanders as he works, thinking back to her smile. Truly, his daughter was the light of his life, the—
—the duck is sporting red hair.
Lucifer blinks down at his latest creation, then brings it closer to his eyes.
Yes, the duck is indeed wearing a horrifyingly familiar mop of red hair, paired with red ears…
Lucifer breaths in and out.
There is, of course, a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. One, Alastor rudely left without saying a word, and Lucifer does not like rudeness—and refuses to acknowledge he's done the same on one too many occasions. Two, and more importantly, Alastor had been one suspicious fucker, and is tied to his daughter, so of course he is worried for her safety and that is making him unconsciously think of him.
Yeah, nothing says “behave, asshole” like a rubber duck in his likeness.
Oh well, it doesn’t ultimately matter. There isn’t much space left in his mind, between the depression, self loathing, anxiety, guilt and love for Charlie for… whatever rubber ducks in his visage signify.
Besides, it’ll pass. He plans to have a one on one meeting with Charlie, after all. At most he’ll allow Maggie to accompany her. So he won’t be seeing Alastor again anytime soon, or ever.
The doors to his study choose this time to slam open.
“Salutations, God of the Underworld! Let me stay in your realm!” Alastor hollers, already entering.
Well, fuck.