Despite what many stories claimed, summoning the Devil himself was no easy task. Most of the time, any mortal who even tried would completely fade from existence, as the sheer amount of magic required to summon him was usually too much of a drain on the magic found within a typical human soul. The few times a mortal had managed to summon him, it was still up to him whether or not to answer the call. After all, he was a very busy man and even if a mortal was powerful enough to call out to him, he didn’t necessarily have to answer back. Hell, he’d have to be pretty damn bored to do that.

So imagine his surprise when the circle came for him while he was workshopping his latest rubber duck, sucking him in right as he was about to finish putting the most adorable little bowtie on it.

He just barely managed to put himself together as he appeared in a hail of fire and brimstone, the stench of sulfur hanging in the air around him. It had been at least a good 400 years since he had last been summoned and the King of Hell was nothing if not a showman. As he stepped out of the portal, he turned around, fully expecting awe, maybe a hint of fear, perhaps even a sacrificial goat or two.

What he wasn’t expecting? A dustbin and broom being shoved into his hands.

Lucifer blinked down at the supplies, then up at the young man in front of him. How was it that someone could look so disheveled yet put together at the same time? Everything - from his crooked glasses to his mess of auburn hair to the hasty arrangement of his clothes - screamed stressed-out student knee-deep in debt (which, of course, Lucifer took full credit for inventing).

And yet, there was something oddly charming about the whole thing. The silver-rimmed glasses perched precariously on that ski-slope nose lent the man an air of dorky intellectualism. The hair, tousled and unkempt though it was, seemed to frame his face in a way that looked more like he was just running his hand through it while wrestling with some tough homework, rather than an especially fierce hairdryer. And the clothes? Well, they somehow managed to convey an air of effortless chic, as if the mortal had stumbled upon the latest trend in disheveled couture entirely by accident.

“Uh…” Lucifer tilted his head, watching as the young man who summoned him immediately walked to the side and picked up an extremely large stack of books. “Do you know who I am?”

The mortal turned to regard him and, for the first time, Lucifer noticed a rather lovely touch of green in those eyes. It was enough to take his breath away. But then, just as quickly, they faded to a gentle dark brown as the mortal’s grip tightened on his books. That was a pretty good look on him too.

“Hmm… nope! And frankly, I don’t care,” the mortal chirped as he began stuffing the books into his bag. “I made you to clean up after me, so your identity is quite irrelevant, I’m afraid.”

…

…

Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. The audacity of this guy. Or the insanity. One of the two. Either way, he was speaking to the fucking Prince of Darkness as though he were some sort of servant. Lucifer had seen humans doing many idiotic things in his millennia of existence, including but not limited to that one time with the gold calf. But this? This was a first.

Lucifer could end him with a flick of his wrist. Hell, he wouldn’t even need to do that much. He could just kick the guy in the nuts and set them on fire. No one would be able to put that out. Despite this, he found himself strangely intrigued. He hadn’t been treated with his amount of irreverence since that time he had been summoned for a hug some thousand or so years ago and even then, he had walked into that circle by choice. This guy? Not only had he forcibly pulled Lucifer from Hell, he also looked absolutely sprightly for someone who should’ve had to drain his soul’s magic while doing so.

“Are you fucking serious?” Lucifer asked, voice laced with absolute incredulity. “I’m kinda a big deal. Ever hear of Lucifer, Lord of Hell?”

The mortal furrowed his brows, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the fallen angel with a mixture of amusement and skepticism. After a few beats of silence, he let out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Well, isn’t this interesting? I had read that you wouldn’t have any sort of personality. Clearly, whoever wrote that textbook didn’t know what they were talking about,” the mortal remarked, his smirk bordering on insolence as he gave Lucifer a mock bow. “Either that or my talents know no bounds. Regardless, ‘Lord of Hell,’ you may refer to me as Alastor, Lord of ‘I Couldn’t Care Less!’”

With a casual wave of his hand, Alastor gestured to the cleaning supplies Lucifer still held, his demeanor way too carefree for a guy who had just unintentionally summoned the Devil himself. “I’d love to continue chatting, but I’m afraid that I have a date with a deadline and a packet of ramen with extra sriracha and pickle juice to eat before that. I’m told that my dear old pal Husker is preparing a rather unpleasant explosive snack spell if we get anything less than an A on this project, so I’ll be out for quite a while. I expect this place to be spotless when I return. Ta-ta now!”

With that, Alastor slid out of the room, leaving Lucifer alone in a room that smelled of sulfur, whiskey, and student debt. What the hell was happening? No, better question, how the hell did this happen? No mere mortal should be able to summon him just like that.

One thing was clear, though: the mortal didn’t believe him. He clearly thought that he had somehow managed to summon a golem with a sense of humor. Judging from the symbols on the summoning circle, that was probably the intention… except either Alastor had added something, misspelled something, or whatever book he had been using added some weird shit to the spell.

He should just fucking leave. He was the King of Hell, after all. The Sin of Pride. One of the most powerful and hated beings in the universe. He didn’t need to take crap from anyone, least of all some random human who somehow managed to drag him straight from the pits of Hell instead of whatever golem he had been trying to summon.

But when Lucifer did try to leave, he found that the summoning circle quite stubbornly refused to open the portal back up. The King of Hell snarled irritably as he tapped his heel at the center of the circle, kicking up tiny gold and red sparks but nothing more. Seriously? The circle was refusing to let him leave before he finished his ordered task? What did it take him for, a fucking lesser demon?

Well, fine. Maybe if he stuck around long enough, he’d figure out how the hell the human managed to drag him up from the pits and force him to stay and clean on top of it. With a small sigh, he picked up the broom and started sweeping. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do anyways.

Hours passed before Alastor returned, looking somewhat less burdened but no less smug. During those hours, Lucifer had finished his task and tried every damn trick in the book, from trying to rip open the fabric of reality to sitting down and asking the circle nicely. When none of that worked, he tried to make his own circle, but that psychopath had placed some kind of security spell on his stupid chalk collection so Lucifer ended up just getting a burnt hand and a bruised ego instead.

As he put down his bag, Alastor glanced around the now-spotless room and nodded approvingly. “Not bad for a first day’s work.”

Lucifer, his patience hanging by a thread, shot him a glare. “Great… fantastic. Now can you explain how the fuck you summoned me here?” Then, he paused. “…Please.”

Alastor tilted his head, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I suppose I could tell you,” he said slowly. “But that wouldn’t be quite as entertaining as leaving you guessing. How about you first tell me your real name?”

Lucifer sighed and crossed his arms, straightening his back so he reached his full height… which was still a head shorter than this human, but like hell he was going to think too hard about that. “I already told you. I’m Lucifer, King of Hell.”

The human chuckled. “Of course, of course. And I’m the Head Wizard of Hightower. You seem to enjoy sticking with that name.” He sneered. “Is it to compensate for your stature?”

Lucifer was definitely going to have a migraine tonight. Insolent, irreverent, and absolutely unoriginal with his jokes. Fuck humans, and above all, fuck Alastor. “I’m not a golem, familiar, or whatever the fuck you think I am!” He grabbed his hat and coat from a nearby chair, his eyes lingering a moment too long on Alastor’s annoyingly charming smirk. Fucking asshole. “I’m the literal devil! How did a human like you summon me?”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along, Lucifer. I summoned you using a book.”

Lucifer blinked. “…A book?”

Alastor tilted his head, magical energy gently humming around him as he regarded the King of Hell. The green was in his eye again, casting his grin in a subtle verdant glow. “Just a silly little thing I borrowed from the ‘To Incinerate’ section of the school library! Do keep up now, won’t you? Complete and utter confusion doesn’t suit that pretty face of yours, my dear.”

Okay, now his face was warm and there was a rather strange but not too unpleasant tingle running down his spine. The human’s air conditioning must’ve broken or something. That was the only explanation. “Can I see it?”

Alastor, who was now making a bunch of gestures over the circle, paused to regard Lucifer with those warm browns flecked with brilliant green, a playful smile on his face. “If you really believe I would show you the very book that binds you to my will of all things, you truly are a brainless little creature.” He sneered as he snapped his fingers. “Until my next summoning!”

Much to Lucifer’s shock, the portal began to open again, revealing the floor of his throne room. Before he could so much as think, a powerful wind erupted from the portal, tugging at his coat with an almost tangible force. Snarling, he gripped onto his hat and dug his heels into the ground as he felt invisible hands yanking at him, desperately trying to pull him in.

“Wait, what the fuck? You’re sending me back!?” Lucifer asked incredulously. He grit his teeth and gripped onto the nearest surface to try to stop the irresistible pull. When he tried to summon his wings, his back tingled ever so slightly before seeming to give up, almost as though his power had somehow been sealed too. What the actual fuck was this human?

Alastor tilted his head. “Of course! You’ve done your job, so there’s no need for you to stay here. As you can clearly see, this apartment hardly has room to hold one of me, let alone myself and a golem. Why, it’s so small, the bedbugs are hunchbacked!”

“You piece of-”

But Alastor merely waved cheerfully as Lucifer’s hands slipped from the table he was clinging onto and he was dragged back through the portal, Alastor’s laughter ringing in the fallen angel’s ears.

Landing back in his throne room with an unceremonious thud, Lucifer dusted himself off, seething. How had that human managed it? He was about to rip open a portal to march right back up there when he stopped. Why waste his time doing that? Whatever had happened up there had to be a fluke, right? Just because one summoning circle worked didn’t mean another would, after all. With a small sigh, Lucifer shook his head, and decided to instead dedicate his energy to more important things… like seeing what Charlie was up to. He whistled as he walked out of the throne room, pushing all thoughts of that stupid smile, stupider auburn locks, and those stupid eyes out of his mind. Surely, it was just a one-time thing.

A few days later, the summoning circle flared to life again. This time, Lucifer was sitting on his throne, doing important things that the King of Hell was supposed to do. Definitely not taking a nap while cuddling the ugly duckling plush Charlie had made him some 150 years ago. No, sir. Not him.

He also most certainly let out the most kingly squeak ever as he was yanked through the thing, because there wasn’t a single uncool bone in his body.

When he materialized in the room, he fell straight from the ceiling to the floor, barely managing to catch himself on outstretched arms. Groaning from the slight pain in his wrists, Lucifer stood and immediately cast his gaze upwards. Seriously? How the fuck did the mortal get a summoning circle on the ceiling? Better question, how did he light the candles up there without burning the place down? And biggest question of all, how in the ever loving fuck did he manage to pay the high cost to summon Lucifer yet again so close after the first time?

"Hello again, 'Lord of Hell,'" Alastor said brightly, grinning over at Lucifer from his position on the couch with a book in hand and even more books surrounding him. Judging from the numerous bags of snacks and containers full of mystery sauces scattered around the room, the human was currently in the middle of a rather intense study session. "I've got another mess for you to clean up!"

…How the fuck did Lucifer get forcibly summoned again so soon? One voluntary summoning was usually enough to drain a mortal, especially a student warlock, for years. But two involuntary ones in the span of a few days? And Alastor looked absolutely no worse for wear? What the fuck was going on?

Lucifer’s eye twitched as he glared at the mortal. He should be furious. Murderous, even. And, of course, he fucking was because naptime was important even when you were a millenia-old being. But there was also an infuriating spark of something else in his chest - a strange little tingle of something that fluttered happily at the sight of Alastor’s mischievous smirk and bewitching eyes, still glowing green from the spell. As he stood and dusted himself off, he leveled a glare in Alastor’s direction, his irritation rising even more when Alastor grinned back at him and stretched almost languidly on the couch, highlighting a very, very nice figure underneath the red and black school uniform-looking thing he was wearing.

Once he was done forcing images that Lucifer really didn’t need right now into the Devil’s mind, Alastor snapped his book shut and gestured behind him to the large pile of dishes sitting in the kitchen sink. They were teetering rather precariously, threatening to spill onto the floor at any second. “You can start with the dishes. If they pile up anymore, they might just sink under all the pressure!” He let out a barking laugh before setting his book on top of one of the piles and picking up another. “After that… well, we’ll see what the day brings us, shall we?”

Lucifer let out a low groan, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, most people try to use me to get ultimate power or revenge for their loved ones or something like that. Not… housekeeping.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, glancing up from his book once again to meet Lucifer’s eyes. Much to his disappointment, that slight flash of green was gone, leaving behind a pair of very nice but not nearly as nice dark browns. “Now why in the world would anyone do that? Ultimate power from a being like you would hardly mean a thing, and revenge is dreadfully boring when it’s not being served straight from the source. Besides,” he licked his thumb and turned a page, his grin sharpening into a sneer. “My predicament calls for a much more practical solution, my dear. You just happen to be the oh-so-lucky being that was summoned for that exact purpose.”

Yup, okay, this guy was absolutely insane. Lucifer had to keep his own eyes from rolling straight out of his head as he turned towards the sink, eyeing the mountain of dishes with a sigh. From the looks of things, this pile had just been here for half a day. What exactly had Alastor been doing all this time? Well, it didn’t matter. The faster he got this done, the faster he could go back to his long-overdue nap.

As he worked, he could feel Alastor’s gaze on him, sensing the way those deep browns bored their way into whatever he had in place of a soul. It was absolutely irritating, but also… oddly pleasant. Like he was, for some reason, interesting to look at, even if all he was doing was washing dishes, drying them, and organizing them into neat piles so he could put them back where they belonged later.

The longer he worked, the more he found himself glancing over his shoulder at the human - perhaps more often than necessary. There was just something about catching glimpses of Alastor reading, stretching, or humming softly to himself that was so pleasant to see. There was just something about that relaxed posture, his effortless confidence, the way his lips curled into a half-smile as he read, and the casual way he would sometimes push his hair back that was just so very… human. And frustratingly captivating.

Memories of him doing basically this exact same thing when Charlie was younger flooded his mind, causing his movements to slow just a touch. He… he missed those days; while he did the chores, she would color or play with Keekee or sing nonsensical songs. Now that she was grown up and ready to make her way in their Hellish world, all he had to dwell on were those memories. It was enough to make his chest tighten and his stomach twist.

As he finished up the last of the dishes, Lucifer looked up again, only to find the couch empty and the various empty snack bags now folded - wait, what the fuck, who the hell just folds their chip bags? - and stacked neatly in the nearby trash can. Red and gold eyes darted around the room, searching for the man who summoned him. Alastor didn’t open a portal and go somewhere, did he? If he did, he needed to come back! Lucifer couldn’t use the summoning circle to banish himself, and-

A noise to his left caused him to whirl and take a step forward, only to almost immediately hit his face against a warm chest that definitely hadn’t been there before. Swallowing, Lucifer looked up, coming face to face with Alastor. Now that he wasn’t stretched on a couch all cat-like and full of absolutely infuriating relaxed charm, he was standing way, way, way too close to Lucifer. As in, like, in his personal space. And that was a very bad thing because now warmth was flooding Lucifer’s face and his ears were tingling in a way that was both extremely unwelcome yet also not entirely unpleasant.

Alastor coughed and averted his gaze as he took a step back, taking the scent of pine and chicory with him. Lucifer’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly when this was instead exchanged with a vacuum cleaner - and not a good one either! It was one of those small ones with a lot of sucking power, but also a lot of noise. The kind you’d get if you were a student on a shoestring budget which, come to think of it, Alastor definitely was.

“The floors are next, my dear,” Alastor said cheerfully, all but shoving the vacuum into Lucifer’s grasp. “Make sure to do a proper cleaning this time. I still found quite a few untidied scorch marks after your last pathetic attempt to keep my apartment clean.”

The fallen angel scowled down at the vacuum, then back up at Alastor. His pulse hadn’t slowed down at all, but at least his mind wasn’t buzzing with pure static at how close they had been earlier. “This is beneath me.”

Alastor tilted his head, narrowing his eyes as that idiotic smile widened even more, to the point where if it got any wider, that stupid head would split in half. “Funny… and here I thought it was impossible for anything to be beneath you!”

…

…

…

Father damn it, he couldn’t even make his horns grow out of his head!?

Lucifer’s scowl deepened as he turned around and plugged the vacuum in, eye twitching in irritation as he heard Alastor’s snicker behind him. Fuck that guy. If it weren’t for whatever weird binding spell he had clearly put on the circle, Lucifer would’ve just ripped him limb from limb by now. Or pulled out his true demonic form - horns, eyes, polyphonic voice, and tail - and scared him into submission.

But no, of course the universe was conspiring against him and all he could do was fucking vacuum the place until it was spotless. If he ever did see Father again, he was going to make sure that the universal rules or whatever governing this were rewritten. It just wasn’t fair to say that if he wasn’t bowing to this human’s wishes, then he would never get home. Father was a jackass at the best and the worst and honestly all the time, but he was supposedly above petty things like that.

As he vacuumed, Lucifer found his mind wandering once again to the absolute enigma of a man now laying on his stomach while reading his book, kicking those long legs in the air. Just what kind of weirdo was he? Most humans Lucifer had encountered in his many summonings were usually terrified or awestruck by his presence; he had more than once fallen victim to a lot of floor or bootlicking that was honestly just unsanitary.

(It was always the worst when they wanted to sleep with him and had just been rolling around in animal guts and licking the floor or his boots. Like, seriously? Did they think Lucifer liked that stuff?)

But Alastor wasn’t like any of those humans from before. No, Alastor didn’t fall to his knees and worship Lucifer like a god nor did he try to puff up his chest and bluster in a sad attempt to intimidate the Devil himself. No, he effortlessly, confidently treated him like a servant. It was a level of nonchalance that was almost admirable in how absolutely audacious it was. And despite himself, Lucifer found that he… didn’t entirely hate it. There was a strange sort of freedom in being seen not as a deity, a king, or a monster, but just as a… person. A human. One whose only current use was, apparently, vacuuming a shitty apartment.

Once again, he found himself glancing over at Alastor, watching as the human continued to kick those unfairly long legs in the air while flipping through another book. The light from the nearby window cast a warm glow on his auburn hair, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw. The glint from that same light bounced off his glasses, hiding the captivating brown of his eyes behind a wall of purest light. Something familiar and entirely unwelcome tugged in his chest, a feeling that he hadn’t felt since… since…

…

He really didn’t want to think about her right now.

Finally, the carpet was absolutely spotless, the King of Hell even having to stoop down occasionally to pull hair out of the carpet where it had become entangled. After tossing said hair and the contents of the vacuum bag away, Lucifer switched off the vacuum and set it aside. He straightened up and stretched, catching Alastor’s eye as the other man rolled over and looked up from his book. “There. Done. Anything else you need, oh Master of the Mundane?”

Alastor chuckled and earmarked his book before sitting up and stretching. Once again, Lucifer got a very nice look at the way the uniform highlighted his figure, the sort of thing that wouldn’t have been out of place in a magazine of some sort… the good kind. The kind that Lucifer would almost certainly keep underneath his bed or throne in Hell. “No, I think that will do for today. You’ve done quite well cleaning the place today… though I am under the impression that as long as you are not made to clean anything above the average human chest height, you would do quite fine.” He smirked. “Perhaps I should get you a ladder in case you ever need to clean the ceiling. There is nothing more satisfying than coming home to a spotless ceiling!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Glad to be of service,” he said dryly.

As Alastor rose and walked over to him, his eyes started glinting green again. Lucifer swallowed, one hand curling into a fist as he inwardly glared at the strange flutter in his chest, cursing the way his pulse quickened and his breath hitched when those browns were completely swallowed by the green glow. With a grin on his face, Alastor stopped just a few feet away, one hand coming up to gesture at the summoning circle Lucifer had fallen out of hours ago.

“Until next time, ‘King of Hell.’”

Lucifer nodded, a strange mix of irritation and anticipation swirling around his mind as the portal opened up above him, sending wind rushing down towards him. “Until next time, Alastor.”

A few months and many, many summonings later, Lucifer found himself having tea in the palace gardens. The Pride Ring had just entered its sad little equivalent of spring, and like hell Lucifer was going to let the chance to eat outside for once without acid rain, fire, or brimstone raining from the heavens slip away from him. Not only that, but this would be a good chance to try to figure out all of this weird magical bullshit happening to him with Alastor. And who better to workshop weird magical bullshit with than the master of weird magical bullshit himself?

“I’m telling you, there’s something not right here,” Lucifer said, carding one hand through his platinum locks. His foot tapped a nonsensical rhythm against the tea table, causing the contents on top to shiver and quake precariously.

His companion tilted his head at a perfect 90-degree angle, red eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded the fallen angel. It was an extremely creepy look on the other demon. Kinda like a haunted doll. With a casual twirl of his finger, Stolas made the tea set, tiered tray, and sandwiches levitate just over the table, protecting them from the all-powerful shakes of Lucifer’s foot. Once he had righted his head again, he took a long, loud sip of his tea before placing down his cup with a tiny hum.

“I do agree. My latest order from Ozzie’s is nearly two moons late! How am I to enjoy my time with Blitzy if I can’t have something slick and strawberry-flavored to go with that big red c-”

“Okay, no, gross!” Lucifer interrupted as he pinched the bridge of his nose. What week was it again? Was there about to be a fucking full moon? Dammit, he knew he should’ve just destroyed the moon centuries ago. “Keep that shit to yourself. Second… no. I wasn’t talking about that! I was talking about this whole thing with Al!”

Stolas sighed and leaned back, pressing the back of one hand to his forehead in a dramatic sweep. “Ah, yes, of course. What are my woes compared to those of First Temptation himself and his boyfriend?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “He is not my boyfriend.”

The demon smirked, straightening himself out. “You keep telling yourself that, Luci. And yet every single time we’ve talked since you were summoned that first time, you can’t help but turn the conversation straight back to him.” He leaned in close, all four eyes narrowing in glee. “Your eyes light up like hellfire whenever you mention him. It’s quite adorable.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Your face says it all, Luci dear. You’re enchanted.”

“I-… You-… He-“ Fuck, his face was getting warm. He let out another groan as he all but collapsed against the back of his chair, nearly kicking over the table in the process. The tea set undulated gently in the air, hovering a few inches higher to avoid the shaking of the table. “Look, there isn’t anything there, okay? He’s just some random human who somehow figured out a way to summon and bind me so I can’t go home without doing whatever weird thing he wants from me first. And he’s somehow doing it all without draining any of his soul magic. Like okay, one summoning. Maybe two. But we’re at summoning number twenty at least and he’s still alive, so why do I keep getting dragged back?”

Stolas hummed, taking yet another sip of his tea as his smile widened. “Perhaps your father has simply found a new way to torment you, hm?”

Lucifer scowled and shifted his gaze over to the teapot. It would be so easy to just waggle his finger and send the thing sailing straight for Stolas’ head. Sure, he might get a very angry imp set on him not long after that, but it would be funny. And besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle the prince’s violence-happy lover. “Father might be a prick, but he isn’t stupid. There’s no way in hell he’d ever make a human with a soul strong enough to summon me multiple times. That’d be a threat to his power.”

Again, Stolas hummed, now turning his attention to the stack of sandwiches on the tiered tray. He reached out and took one, nibbling on it thoughtfully. “Then perhaps it is less about the strength of his soul and more about what his soul means to you.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. Once again, he leaned back in his chair, teetering precariously on its back legs. “What in the unholy hell is that supposed to mean?”

Stolas swallowed the rest of his sandwich with a grin. “Perhaps the reason why his soul and body hasn’t shriveled out of existence is not because of some poor choices from your father but because he has some larger part to play in your destiny.” The prince let out a high, tinkling laugh as he continued. “The soul is a powerful thing, Your Majesty. You of all creatures should know that it can do strange and wondrous things when allowed to thrive.”

“Ugh… I hate it when you gotta get all metaphysical and shit with me,” Lucifer said. He glared at the sandwich in his hand, as though it were somehow responsible for his current predicament. “It also doesn’t explain the weirdest part about this. Whenever I’m done with my task, usually I can just open the portal and leave. But with this guy? I can’t do it. Hell, I can’t use most of my magic. Just some minor conjuring and shit. I have to wait for him to open the portal and send me back.” He shoved the sandwich in his mouth and chased it down with the last of his tea.

Stolas set his teacup down, his expression thoughtful as the teapot floated over to him and topped off his cup. “Interesting. Perhaps your inability to open a portal means that your task isn’t actually finished.”

Lucifer’s brow furrowed. Once again, he leaned back in his chair, teetering precariously on its back legs. “What in the unholy hell is that supposed to mean? Every time he drags me back there, I finish whatever stupid thing he’s too lazy to do himself and then I’m stuck waiting for him to send me back. He doesn’t give me any other orders.”

The prince let out a high, tinkling laugh, then leaned back as well, a knowing gleam brightening up his crimson gaze. “I can’t speak on the behalf of whoever wrote these silly summoning circle rules, but what I can do is speculate on them. Perhaps there is more to this mortal than meets the eye. His soul might have some larger part to play in your destiny.”

Lucifer glowered at him and stuffed another sandwich in his mouth. “Destiny can go straight to Hell. I’m already here.”

Once again, Stolas laughed and shook his head. “Based on what you’ve told me about him, it sounds like he might actually enjoy it here… especially if you’re the one giving him the royal treatment.”

The King of Hell rolled his eyes, feeling the heat creep up his neck. “Royal treatment, my ass. The guy thinks I’m a glorified housekeeper.”

Before either of them could say anything further, a sudden wind whipped through the garden, carrying with it the scent of something sweet and tantalizing. Without warning, a familiar portal opened up beneath Lucifer’s feet, already beginning to pull him through - chair and all. With a small groan, Lucifer reached out for the table, only for Stolas to smirk and move it out of the way. Asshole. Lucifer made a mental note to wring that stupid neck once he got back.

“Well, it looks like you’re being summoned again!” Stolas said cheerfully, waving as Lucifer sank through the portal. The King of Hell scowled at his companion as he left, raising both hands to flip him off. In response, Stolas merely laughed. “I’ll look more into this issue for you. In the meantime, do give Alastor my regards! And just remember… love is merely another form of torment!”

Lucifer’s last sight was Stolas’ teasing grin before the portal closed around him, sending him hurtling back to Alastor’s apartment. Strange enough, there was something new in this summoning as he traveled through the planes of existence towards Earth: a hail of static and a cascade of flashing colored lights. What was going on? Was there some sort of other demon trying to run interference? Was Alastor in trouble? Alarm rose in him as the static became louder, as the lights flashed more intensely. Shit, if Alastor was in trouble, then Lucifer needed to prepare for a fight. Taking a deep breath, the Devil braced himself and concentrated on manifesting his wings-

Only to burst out of a small box, shards of glass and plastic scattering across the room. Lucifer gasped, his barely formed wings dissolving into nothing as he turned around, golden eyes wide at the sight before him. Was this… one of those things that mortals called a TV? Why did he come out of that? Better question, what the hell was it doing here? Alastor had made his disdain for the technology known long ago, so the fact that it was here in his shitty apartment was weird.

“Aha! You’ve arrived.”

Lucifer immediately snapped out of his thoughts and whipped his head towards the kitchen, wincing slightly when it creaked in protest. Alastor grinned at him from behind the kitchen counter with a spatula in one hand and a bowl of dough in the other. The same sweet, tempting scent from earlier was even stronger now, wafting all around the man as he deftly dropped bits of dough into the pot of hot oil in front of him.

The human was for once not dressed in his school uniform today. Rather, he opted instead for a starched white button-down, black slacks, and maroon apron - an outfit that did absolutely sinful things to his figure. The tailored shirt clung to his lean frame, accentuating broad shoulders and a narrow waist while the slacks wrapped around him in ways that drew Lucifer’s eye like nothing else to… certain areas. The apron was rather interesting too, adding an almost domestic touch to the mortal that was oddly endearing.

When Lucifer looked up, the slight trace of green in Alastor’s gaze gleamed mischievously, then faded into the warm, golden-brown hue of his eyes. That grin, charming and devilish as ever, only seemed to widen at the sight of the now plastic and glass-covered floor around Lucifer. It took the King of Hell about ten seconds to get his brain back together.

“So…” Lucifer began, gesturing to the remains of the television. “What’s with that?”

Alastor’s grin widened, voice velvet smooth as he flipped dough from the pot to a nearby plate with a deft flick of his wrist. “Just a little experiment,” he replied. As he spoke, his grin widened into something absolutely wicked. “Vox from Hall V wouldn’t shut up about his little picture box. Apparently, he’s actually proud of that pathetic thing. So I did the only thing any reasonable warlock of my skill would do.” He shrugged. “I ‘borrowed’ it to experiment with. I wanted to see if you could come out of any surface or if it needed to be a wall or floor… and as you can clearly see, the experiment went rather well!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “You destroyed a TV to summon me?”

Alastor snickered, now reaching into a cabinet for a shining silver shaker of some sort. “Destroyed? Heavens, no! I merely brought it in here and drew the circle on its face. It was your arrival that destroyed it.”

“Just admit it, Al. You wanted to break his toy,” Lucifer smirked.

“Lucifer, don’t tell me you care for that frivolous thing now,” Alastor said, mock aghast lacing his tone. He turned the shaker upside down and tapped on it, powdered sugar falling out of it. It landed on top of the golden pillows of dough and settled on them like freshly fallen snow. “Everyone knows that radio is the proper medium for entertainment!”

Lucifer snorted. “Please. I don’t give two shits about those things. TV scrambles the brain.”

Alastor’s grin widened. “I couldn’t agree more!” Then, he gestured with his head towards the fridge. “Now, how about you fulfill the reason why I called you here? I need you to take the ground meat from the fridge and take it out of the packaging.”

Well, at least it wasn’t yet another cleaning job. Lucifer decided he might as well oblige the mortal, striding over to the fridge. When he opened it, he wrinkled his nose at the sight before him: there was definitely meat, alright. And a bunch of other stuff: all kinds of sauces, eyes of newt, a few mysterious blobby things floating in sinister green liquid, and something that looked awfully like a human hand encased in some sort of shining resin. Seriously, was this guy a serial killer? If so, then Lucifer was going to make sure that he had an extra special place in the Pride Ring once he made it down there. There was no way one could summon the Devil and have all this shit in their fridge without ending up down there eventually.

He found the package of ground beef easily enough. looking and smelling like the only normal thing in the damn fridge. When he straightened and closed the refrigerator, he almost immediately met Alastor’s eyes. The warlock blinked, then quickly averted his gaze, suddenly looking extremely interested in the pot of oil in front of him. Lucifer tilted his head, then shrugged. He already knew that Alastor was a pretty weird guy, so might as well just accept the guy’s odd quirks for whatever they were worth.

After placing the unwrapped meat on the dining table, Lucifer walked to the sink and immediately started doing the dishes. Even if Alastor wasn’t going to prompt him now, he was almost certainly going to ask the fallen angel to do them later. So, might as well just do them now.

Eventually, Alastor ran out of dough and Lucifer ran out of dishes to do. The two retreated to the dining table, which Lucifer had set before Alastor could order him to do so. There was something strangely domestic about all of this; Lucifer hadn’t felt anything close to this in a while - or ever, really. Even after things settled down just after his Fall, he and Lilith had been so busy - busy ruling Hell, bringing souls under their thumb, organizing concerts and balls and all sorts of events. They never truly sat at a table like this and ate. The thought of doing this with someone else - with a mortal - caused a rather odd feeling in Lucifer’s chest, the kind that fluttered gently all around.

The moment Lucifer sat down, Alastor was already offering him one of the golden dough pillows, its sweet scent mingling gently with the chicory and fresh pine that always clung to him. Without missing a beat, Lucifer’s crimson locked with Alastor’s warm browns and he raised an eyebrow in silent questioning. Alastor’s grin widened as he twisted his fork in his hand. “These are called beignets. You should try one. They’re made from one of my mother’s recipes and her food is to die for!”

…Well, if it was poisoned, at least Lucifer would die with at least 30% of his dignity still intact.

Lucifer took a tentative bite, his eyes widening in surprise. The beignet was light, fluffy, and delicious, the powdered sugar adding just the right amount of sweetness. He glanced at Alastor, who was watching him intently. There was just something about that gaze that was so… magnetic. It was enough to send a shiver down the King of Hell’s spine. Without even thinking, he reached for another, something in his stomach fluttering when that grin widened even more.

“Damn, these are good!” Lucifer admitted, popping the second one in his mouth and swallowing in a single gulp. “Seriously. Tell your mom she did great!”

Those statuesque cheekbones reddened slightly, his smile softening. “Thank you… but my mother is dead, I’m afraid.” He smirked. “Though if the so-called ‘King of Hell’ doesn’t know her, then I suppose that’s a comforting thought.”

Lucifer’s stomach twisted, a mixture of confusion, pity, and strangely enough, guilt flashing through him. He really should find some way to prove who he really was. But that would ruin the mood, and if there was one thing he really didn’t want to do right now, it was that.

They ate in companionable silence, the warm glow of the setting sun lighting the room as they ate. Its golden rays bathed Alastor’s face, casting a soft, ethereal glow that highlighted the deep browns and the tiny mischievous green sparks still dancing in his eyes. With each passing moment, Lucifer felt his own thoughts turning more and more to the human before him and everything he simultaneously hated and… well, he didn’t know what the other part of it was. Part of him didn’t want to know.

Regardless, any and all emotions Lucifer was feeling in that moment soon gave way to absolute horror as Alastor finally turned to the open package of raw meat still sitting on the table, bit open his beignet, and-

…

…

“Are you fucking serious?” Lucifer asked, aghast.

It was probably the most horrible thing he’d ever seen in his life - and Lucifer had seen some fucked up shit. But this? This was like something straight out of a horror movie, the kind where you would need to go to the nearest church and have a priest just stand outside the theater with holy water and a confessional to step into. The contrast between the golden, sugary beignet and the raw, bloody meat was grotesque. Alastor’s grin only widened into something deeply wicked as he popped it in his mouth, chewing with evident satisfaction.

“Something wrong, dear?”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “You’re eating meat.”

Alastor paused mid-stuffing his beignet with even more of the ghastly contacts of the package. “Why yes, yes I am. How observant of you!”

“That meat is fucking raw.”

Alastor tilted his head, his entire face seeming to light up as something sinister flitted in the back of his eyes that wouldn’t look out of place in Hell. Father fucking dammit, why was this also a good look on him? “I fail to see the problem with that.”

The fallen angel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna get sick from that. There is no way in hell you’re eating that every day and somehow don’t have a bunch of parasites living in you.”

“Oh? Well this is interesting,” Alastor leaned forward, pressing both elbows into the table as he rested his chin in his hands. He tilted his head, the golden sunlight outside casting a thick sheen over his glasses, hiding those deep browns completely. “A golem caring for its master? You are much more of a pet than I thought.”

Despite the biting words, there was a softness in Alastor’s gaze when the light shifted just enough for Lucifer to see his eyes again, a warmth that seemed to almost tease at something deeper than mere amusement. Lucifer huffed, crossing his arms and averting his gaze, his pulse quickening just a touch. “First off, fuck you. I’m not your pet. Second, I’m just looking out for your health, you idiot. You’re a decent cook. You don’t need to eat raw meat like some sorta animal.”

Alastor’s grin softened at the corners, one hand now moving to play with one of the beignets on Alastor’s plate while the other cradled his cheek. “What a strange little golem you’re turning out to be. You have an unusual amount of… personality.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes but was unable to suppress the small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, maybe I’m not just any golem.”

Silence fell between them as they regarded each other, the package of raw meat momentarily forgotten. Alastor’s warm browns sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and something else that made Lucifer unable to tear his gaze away. It was unsettling, but also strangely comforting. Kinda like one of those haunting old love ballads.

Alastor was first to break it. “Thank you for your concern,” he said, his tone sincere for once. “But I assure you, I’ve been eating this way for years, and I’ve been right as rain this entire time! Besides, even if I do get sick, all I have to do is summon you and tell you to go fetch Rosie.”

Ah, yes, Rosie. Lucifer hadn’t met her yet, but she was apparently a fellow student who decided to specialize more in human body-related magic. If there was someone who could potentially extract whatever weird worms or diseases from this idiot’s brain and bloodstream, it was probably her. Still, Lucifer was half-convinced that, at this rate, Alastor was going to keel over one day from some terrible food-borne illness. But he couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through his chest at the thought of Alastor actually appreciating his concern.

Eventually, the meal wound down and Lucifer carefully stored the leftover beignets and meat in Alastor’s fridge. He wrinkled his nose when he was once again faced with the mystery meats and sauces inside. Next time Alastor summoned him, he was going to make sure the man actually went to a proper grocery store instead of… whatever the fuck was happening here.

When he closed the door and turned to face Alastor, he saw an unfamiliar red spark flash in his eyes. Alastor waved his hand over the destroyed TV, quickly putting it back together. Lucifer watched, fascinated, as Alastor began quickly etching a circle on its screen using chalk, the tip of his tongue poking out slightly as those brown pools narrowed in concentration. What would it be like to taste those lips? To touch that tongue? To see those eyes up close when they were so focused?

As the portal began to open up again, causing a powerful gust of wind to rush into the room, a sudden question popped into Lucifer’s mind. He voiced it before he could stop himself.

“Hey, Al? What’s with the red in your eyes? Isn’t your magic usually green?”

Alastor paused mid-hand gesture, brows furrowed in confusion. The red spark had faded, allowing the pretty green to once again resurface. “Now, that’s rather odd. Red is the usual color of my magic.”

Lucifer frowned. There was something missing here. A piece of the puzzle wasn’t quite fitting together. Maybe he’d need to ask Stolas about it. “Maybe it just means you’ve got Christmas-colored magic then.” He grinned teasingly. “So I guess that just proves you’re a tacky piece of shit.”

Alastor laughed, the sound rich and genuine, the action lighting up his entire face. The green spark intensified, causing that beautiful verdant glow to flood his entire iris. The sight was mesmerizing, so much so that Lucifer found himself staring, his breath stuttering.

Alastor finished the hand gesture, and the circle opened up more, pulling Lucifer back into Hell. As he left, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel a little… excited for the next time he’d be summoned. There was just something about the human that drew him in, making him want to explore even further. Perhaps sometime soon, he would finally figure out what in the Seven Rings was going on here.

Several weeks later, Lucifer was lounging in his private quarters in Hell, an extremely rare moment of free time among all of his duties as a father and king. Charlie, his sprightly 200-year-old daughter, was growing into a dreamer, full of grand ideas and unending optimism. He was sure she’d need his help one of these days - especially with this hotel idea she kept babbling about - but for now, he was proud of the young lady she had become.

As seemed to be the trend lately, his thoughts drifted, unbidden to a certain warlock with mischievous eyes and a penchant for unusual summoning methods and even more unusual meals. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his mind summoned their last encounter, recalling the hauntingly beautiful verdant of Alastor’s green irises. Was there some way to make it so that his eyes were always like that? Lucifer made a mental note to check some of his more ancient texts and see.

A sudden skittering near the window snapped Lucifer from his thoughts. Alarms rang through his mind as he stood up, flexing his fingers slightly as his heart began hammering in his ribcage. It sounded like there was someone trying to climb up the castle wall. Who the fuck did they think they were? Lucifer sneered, flames crackling at his fingertips. It didn’t matter what this intruder wanted. The only thing that mattered was that Lucifer was going to incinerate them. As the tall, thin figure lurched through the window, Lucifer reared one hand back, summoning a flame and-

“Oh, my! I didn’t expect to check ‘get nearly incinerated by the King of Hell’ off my bucket list, but I suppose life is full of surprises!”

Lucifer let out a yelp of surprise, extinguishing his flames as quickly as they had appeared. “Stolas! What the fuck are you doing here? And why didn’t you knock or levitate in?”

Stolas chuckled, brushing off his robe. He took a moment to check his face in the reflection of a nearby candle sconce before he turned to Lucifer with a wide grin. “True, I could’ve gone through the front like everyone else, but have you seen the nasty brutes out there? Of course you have, you must’ve hired them. Anyways, they make me a tad uncomfortable so I did the next most logical thing.” He gestured to the window. “Levitation would draw too much attention, and I’ve always been rather good at getting to high places without it, so-”

The King of Hell blinked. “...You risked getting burnt to a crisp and possibly falling off the side of the castle wall just because you didn’t like the looks of the guys guarding my front gate?”

Stolas nodded. “Precisely! Besides, I caught your attention, didn’t I?” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “I also have some information about your dear little warlock you might find interesting… well, actually, I suppose compared to you he isn’t so little.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, still annoyed but curious. “Information? What kind of information?”

Stolas sauntered over to a nearby chair and swept himself down onto it with dramatic grace. Without missing a beat, Lucifer snapped his fingers and conjured up a teacup and teapot of freshly brewed darjeeling. Stolas took the drink with an appreciative hum and sat back in the chair, making himself comfortable. “I’ve been doing some research on these summoning circles you mentioned. Those things are quite sensitive to spelling errors, especially when made with chalk. I would recommend that next time you’re summoned, you ought to copy an image of the circle and bring it to me. That way, I’ll be able to take a look at it and hopefully correct any mistakes on it.”

Lucifer blinked slowly. “...You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“Well, yes and no,” Stolas replied, a playful glint in his eye. He took a long sip of tea, clearly savoring the flavor. “I also looked a little bit more into the different colored magics that human seems to have. You’re right in that most of the time, humans only have a single magic color. But there have been rare instances when there are two colors. From what I’ve read, that occurs when they draw from different portions of their soul.”

Lucifer tilted his head. “Different portions of their what now?”

“Perhaps an example would be more beneficial,” Stolas sighed. He gestured to Lucifer. “You, my king, possess two different-colored magics, do you not? You often draw from the infernal portion of your soul, of course, but a large chunk of it is still celestial. Ergo, your magic manifests as red and gold respectively, depending on which portion of your soul you’re drawing from. Now, while I doubt your boyfriend-”

“Not my boyfriend,” Lucifer snapped, warmth flooding his cheeks.

Stolas smirked. “While I doubt your warlock possesses a celestial or infernal portion of his soul, he likely is drawing from two different sources somewhere deep inside it. Red, obviously, seems to be the color he uses the most. But when it comes to summoning you, he draws from another part of his soul and it’s green instead.” The prince tilted his head. “What that means in terms of how everything is interconnected is anyone’s guess, but at the very least, we can now know why his soul hasn’t been wiped from existence after summoning you so many times. He’s drawing from another part of his soul altogether.”

Lucifer groaned. “So he’s using some other part of his soul to summon me without even realizing what the fuck he’s doing?”

Stolas tilted his head until it was at a rather uncomfortable looking 90-degree angle, his crimson eyes narrowed in glee. “Precisely. I’ll continue my research once I’m done tucking Via into bed later tonight. Oh, but do be careful. I see the circle opening up right behind you!”

As if on cue, the all-too-familiar summoning circle appeared just over Lucifer’s shoulder, casting a green glow around the room. When the rushing wind tugged at his clothes, Lucifer didn’t even bother fighting it; he merely snapped his fingers to change out of his duck footie pajamas into his usual King of Hell uniform. With a small sigh, he waved goodbye to Stolas, who grinned and waved back before he allowed himself to be pulled through without a fight.

Lucifer had to climb out of the blackboard that Alastor had stolen from the library this time, cursing Father, the universe, and Alastor for making him do this. As he landed on the floor, he looked over his shoulder, watching as the circle closed behind him. Yup, that was definitely a summoning circle and those were definitely ancient runes. He really should’ve learned the language a long time ago, but he was a busy person, okay? Besides, it wasn’t like he was the one summoning demons to himself anyways.

Once he stood and dusted himself off, Lucifer glanced around the room. The dingy apartment was a mess: papers scattered everywhere, questionable looking bags of snacks stuffed in various places, empty coffee cups, and were those new scorch marks? Shit, either it was exam season or there was someone trying to kill his warlock. Or both. Lucifer really hoped it was just someone trying to kill Alastor; he couldn’t help much with exam season.

Speaking of the warlock, where was he? Gold and red eyes narrowed as they scanned the room. Aside from the mess and the kitchen sink once again being piled high, there wasn’t anything too out of place here. So if Alastor wasn’t studying at the dining table, then that really only left one other place.

He walked into the bedroom and was immediately greeted with the sight of Alastor, fast asleep at his desk. Books and scrolls were scattered around him, alongside even more empty coffee cups and weird-looking snack bags. Lucifer frowned as he scanned the covers of the books: Arcane Quantum Theory, Magical History as told by the Giants, Advanced Potion-Making… Well shit. It was definitely exam season.

As he approached the sleeping human, Lucifer couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the blackboard he had emerged from. Alastor definitely hadn’t summoned him - at least not consciously. So why was he here? It usually took at least a few hand gestures and maybe even a sacrificial goat to do things the usual way.

Then again, his entire relationship with Alastor thus far was anything but usual.

A strange warmth bloomed in his chest at the sight of the sleeping human. Alastor, normally at least a little bit put-together, was a mess; his glasses were askew, bits of his auburn locks stuck out at odd angles, and there were dark circles under his eyes that marred his otherwise perfect skin. Despite all of this, the warlock’s face was peaceful, a stark contrast to the mischievous energy or the (most likely) nearly manic studying he had no doubt been doing throughout the last few days, at minimum.

Lucifer felt something in his chest soften at the sight. He hadn’t yet asked Alastor what he was looking to do once he graduated from this place and moved on. He didn’t seem like the type to become a fighter - Lucifer wouldn’t want that for him anyways, because those mages tended to die or get severely injured pretty quickly. Maybe a business owner of some sort? Or some sort of entertainer? With such a smooth voice, Alastor would easily fit into the entertainment industry as a charming radio host.

Well, sleeping here was bad for his posture. And if he was going to do his best on those stupid exams, then he needed to not wake up with an aching back or neck. With that in mind, Lucifer stooped down and gently lifted Alastor, careful not to wake him. The warlock was surprisingly light for one so tall, and Lucifer was easily able to move him from the desk to the bed just a few feet away.

As Lucifer carried him, Alastor turned and nuzzled into his chest, causing the King of Hell’s brain to short-circuit immediately, filling his thoughts with nothing but static. After a few moments where he simply stood there, he came back to life again and kept walking, doing his best to ignore the warm, soft sensation of Alastor’s breath against his neck and the warlock’s heart beating steadily through his shirt.

After what seemed like a hundred lifetimes, Lucifer carefully laid Alastor on the bed and pulled a blanket over him. Then, he gently removed the wire-frame glasses and placed them on the bedside table. As he moved away, his fingertips gently brushed the back of Alastor’s head, sending electric sparks dancing all around his body. The touch was light, almost reverent; Lucifer didn’t want to break the spell of this quiet moment, no matter how tempting it was to see those mesmerizing green sparks again.

“Lucifer… Starlight… glad you’re here…”

Alastor’s voice was a soft murmur, barely more than a whisper. It drifted through the room like a gentle breeze. “Starlight” sent a rush of warmth flooding through Lucifer’s chest. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he was rooted to the spot, staring down at the sleeping warlock with a mixture of confusion and something far, far more profound.

He leaned down slightly, his face just inches from Alastor’s. The warlock’s serene expression, the way his auburn hair framed his face, the peaceful rise and fall of his chest - everything about him in that moment was heartbreakingly beautiful. One pale hand lingered near Alastor’s head, the urge to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead almost overwhelming.

“...I’ll always be here for you,” Lucifer answered, his voice barely audible even to himself. Then, reluctantly, he straightened up. With a final, lingering glance at Alastor’s sleeping form, Lucifer forced himself to turn away and walk back to the blackboard.

Finding paper and a pen to copy the damn thing down was simple enough. Hell, even the act of copying all of its intricate symbols and runes was pretty easy too. Despite the obvious near-perfection of the circle, despite how precise every line and curve was, there was still something… off. Something that tickled the back of the fallen angel’s mind, a memory just out of reach. And even while he was doing everything he could to concentrate on just copying the circle down, his mind continued to drift back to Alastor’s mumbled words, the warmth of his body, and the absolutely serene look on his handsome face.

Fuck.

Once he was done copying down the summoning circle, he tucked the paper into his hat and moved on to the kitchen. That towering pile of dishes was going to topple over at any second, and the last thing a student needed right before an exam was a giant mess in his kitchen. As he worked, Lucifer once again found his mind wandering, his thoughts lingering on the green sparks of Alastor’s magic. The color was familiar, annoyingly so. He had definitely seen it before. Was it a hundred years ago? A thousand? A few thousand? Dammit, where had he seen that-

The answer came to him as he was halfway through scrubbing an especially stubborn coffee stain: Eden. He had last seen that color in fucking Eden. But not just randomly in Eden; no, that green was the exact same color as the leaves of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Double fuck.

Lucifer paused, dishcloth in hand, staring blankly at the soapy waters of the sink. Was it possible that Alastor’s soul was somehow tied to that ancient place? Well, then again, wasn’t every mortal soul tied to the garden? They had originated there, after all. The Knowledge of Good and Evil ran through their veins, no thanks to Lucifer’s intervention. It made sense that Alastor, being human, would also have a bit of Eden inside him… but why was he able to access that sort of magic when no other human could?

Eden was a realm he hadn’t seen in a very long time - in fact, the last time he even saw the TKGE (Ha! He’s clever) was right before his destiny changed forever. Was Stolas right? Was his destiny about to change again? The thought that Alastor’s soul might be somehow connected to it was both intriguing and troubling.

Then, Lucifer shook his head and set his dish aside. That was something he’d need to look into further, with Stolas’ help. For now, though, he couldn’t help but feel a gentle stir of curiosity - and something deeper, something warmer - towards the warlock sleeping peacefully in the next room. As he finished the dishes, his fingertips trembled, mind filled with verdant green, fresh pine, robust chicory, and a single whispered word: Starlight.

When Lucifer materialized in Alastor’s apartment again several weeks later, he had to climb out of the fucking toilet. Father fucking damn it, why was he getting put through the literal shitter? Did Alastor take some sick joy in tormenting him? Actually, no, scratch that, the warlock definitely did.

For a brief moment, Lucifer actually considered just ripping the guy’s stupid smiling head from his shoulders - he wouldn’t need his magic to do it, after all - and shoving it in the toilet instead. See how that felt. Oh, but wait, he wouldn’t be able to feel anything if he was dead, right? Shit, Lucifer needed to workshop this idea more.

Despite his annoyance, there was no denying the way his pulse quickened when he laid eyes on Alastor once again. Now that exam season was over, the warlock was considerably more cheerful and no longer looked like he was having his lifeforce slowly squeezed out of him. Gone were the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion in his posture, now replaced once again by that cheerful, mischievous spark and ramrod straight back.

When their eyes met, he shot Lucifer a playful grin, that verdant spark dancing happily in his eye before fading once again into the warm browns. Unable to help himself, Lucifer returned the grin and walked over to join him just outside the bathroom door.

Why did he care so much about this mortal? Why did he feel this inexplicable pull towards him?

“You know, you probably completely destroyed this place’s plumbing pulling that stunt,” Lucifer said with a smirk. He snapped his fingers, using what little magic he was allowed to use to dry himself off in an instant. “Aren’t you already in enough debt? What if they find out it’s you and make you pay for it?”

Alastor snorted. “If being the keyword there, Sta- Lucifer. But don’t you worry. I made sure to etch a summoning circle into everyone’s toilet in this complex. Now even if they try to find me, they’ll have to check everyone’s apartment first!”

Lucifer blinked slowly. “...How the fuck did you pull that off?”

Alastor smirked and pressed one finger to his lips. “A magician never reveals his secrets, I’m afraid. You’ll have to deal with the mystery.”

This caused Lucifer to roll his eyes. “Alright, whatever, weirdo. What’s today’s bullshit chore? Want me to dunk your head in the toilet so you can practice holding your breath for all the swirlies your school bullies like to give you?”

The warlock placed one hand over his chest, expression mockingly aghast. “You wound me! Why would you ever think I’m not the one dunking their heads in?” He snickered. “You should have seen Vox last week. He wanted payback for that picture box you destroyed… so I simply taught him a lesson on threatening what was mine.”

Alastor’s voice dipped into a low octave with those words, taking on a dangerous edge that made Lucifer’s heart skip a beat. The room seemed to darken around them, the playful atmosphere taking on a more intense, intimate tone. The tension in the air was palpable, strung out like a violin’s string. It was enough to send a strange tingle throughout Lucifer’s spine.

Before Lucifer could say anything, Alastor turned on his heel, his playful demeanor snapping back into place. “Well, make yourself at home! I need to fetch Husk and show you to him. The fool truly thought I couldn’t summon a golem with a personality, but that only shows how much of an utter failure he is!”

Alastor left the apartment, humming a cheerful tune, leaving Lucifer alone… though not for long. The sound of the door clicking shut behind the warlock was almost immediately followed by a familiar, irritating chiming in Lucifer’s head. One of the tiny, petty things Father had made sure to imbue him with after the Fall was an especially annoying noise to go off in his mind whenever someone was trying to contact him telepathically. In his millenia of existence, Lucifer had yet to figure out how to turn the damn thing off. Still, there was at least some uses for the mental link… like talking to Stolas who was-

Unholy shit, this noise was so bad he was going to rip out his own brains at this rate.

“Ah, Lucifer!” Stolas said cheerfully once the fallen angel managed to finally open the damn connection. “How are you doing? I trust you’re enjoying your time with your dear warlock?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Not really. Alastor just dragged me out of Hell again and through a toilet this time.”

Stolas chuckled softly. “Through a toilet, you say? How delightfully charming! I haven’t done anything that romantic since Blitzy-”

“No! No, no, Stolas! No, no, just, no,” Lucifer snapped. Stolas made an offended noise in response, but literally anything was better than listening to him ramble on about whatever gross shit he and that imp of his had managed to get up to during the last full moon. “How about you just tell me what you want before I puke over the floor I’m probably gonna have to clean soon.”

“Very well, very well,” Stolas said airily, the playfulness back in his voice. “As you know, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time researching into what is going on between you and him. And, well, I suppose I’ll start with what’s easiest to explain. That summoning circle of his? It’s no mere soul-binding circle.” Stolas’ voice took on a hint of amusement as he spoke. “Your warlock added an extra line in the top right corner and missed a few lines at the bottom. Those small changes made it into a soul-mating circle.”

…

…

“A soul-mating what now?”

“Ooh! I see that you’re having quite the reaction to this!” Stolas’ voice was filled with laughter. Lucifer could practically see the mirth flashing behind those red eyes. “I’m so glad I’m being helpful! How about a bit more, hm? I also looked into that green magic of his you kept mentioning. Based on how much power it typically takes to summon you to the mortal realm, Alastor’s soul would have to be especially strong… or it has to be drawing from another source. You already told me his typical magic is red, so why is it with you that it turns green? Well… here’s the plot twist! Are you ready for it?”

Lucifer groaned. “Don’t think I ever will be.”

Stolas let out a low giggle. “It turns out… our hypothesis was correct! He is drawing from another part of his soul altogether… but also the universe. The very fabric of creation!”

Lucifer’s eyes widened. “The very fabric of creation? Are you saying-”

“Yes, yes!” Stolas interrupted, clearly relishing the drama. “Your boyfriend’s soul is tied to yours. Just as yours is part celestial and part not, all humans have one part mortal, one part not. Normally, mortals don’t have access to the immortal part of their soul until they die, but… well, clearly we are working with someone quite special here.”

Lucifer leaned back against the wall, heart hammering, palms sweating. He raked one hand through his hair, his mind racing back through all the times he saw that lovely verdant painting Alastor’s eyes. Of course Alastor was special. Lucifer knew it. Stolas knew it. Hell, he was pretty sure Alastor himself knew it. But to hear it all laid in front of him was something else.

It was… exciting.

“When he just uses his common human magic, he simply draws from the power of the mortal part of his soul. Ergo, red. But whenever he calls for you… he needs much more than mere mortal magic to bring you to him. He instead must draw on the not mortal part of his soul - essentially, the very essence of Eden itself - to prevent his magic from being drained whenever you appear.” He could hear the smirk in Stolas' voice as he spoke, feel the laughter underlying every word. “Your task, it turns out, has been unfinished this entire time, hence why you cannot return home on your own or draw on your true power.”

Lucifer clutched his chest, suddenly feeling a pang deep inside it, like a spark had blazed into an inferno that was just racing through him. “But… what does that mean? What fucking task?”

Stolas laughed. “How am I supposed to know? All I can tell you is that the task of all soulmates is to fulfill each other. What that means is different for every pair!” He hummed. “I’m so delighted on your behalf! In fact, I haven’t felt this thrilled since that time with Blitzy in your bed-”

Well, that certainly snapped Lucifer from his stupor.

“Your time with who in my what!?”

“Oops! Spoke too soon!” Stolas said quickly. Despite his clear and obvious fucking mistake, there was still a hint of laughter in his voice. “I best get going. But Lucifer… it’s rare to find a bond like what you have with him. Cherish it. Cherish him. It’ll do you some good.” And with that, Stolas was gone.

Lucifer stood there, his mind swirling with everything he and Stolas - well, mostly Stolas - had just talked about. Alastor’s soul was tied to his? The summoning circle wasn’t just a soul-binding spell, but a soul-mating one? And Alastor’s green magic… he was drawing from the essence of Eden?

His heart pounded in his chest as he replayed everything in his mind. The connection he felt with Alastor, that inexplicable pull, the warmth that blossomed in his chest every time they were together - it all made sense now. He wasn’t just tied to the warlock through some infernal contract or simple infatuation. This was something deeper, something eternal. They were soulmates.

The thought of being truly, deeply connected to another being after so many millennia of accepting that he truly was the most hated in the universe was terrifying and thrilling in equal measure. This was more than he had ever bargained for. The idea of fulfilling each other, of discovering what that meant for them filled him with an exhilaration and wonder he hadn’t felt in ages.

Maybe destiny did have its own plans, after all.

The door swung open, and Alastor strode in followed by a tall, gruff looking man that Lucifer could only guess was Husk. The warlock had a bright grin on his face as he all but dragged the other over to Lucifer, gesturing to the King of Hell with a flourish.

“As you can clearly see, Husker, this is my golem with a personality! Now, I understand if your tiny mind cannot at all comprehend how I could have possibly done it, but-”

One look at Husk’s face said it all. It was equal parts awed, yet also fearful. Actually, mostly fearful. He remained silent as Husk’s large brown eyes darted in between him and Alastor. Then, he let out a low exhale. Lucifer watched as the other warlock’s face slowly morphed into an expression of absolute exasperation. One hand reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose.

…Huh. Lucifer would probably get along with this guy.

“Al,” Husk said, cutting off the warlock mid-ramble. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Alastor blinked, smile plastered. He turned his head towards Husk and tilted it with a somewhat sickening crack. Once again, Lucifer’s mind called up the image of a haunted doll. He made a mental note to make sure that Alastor and Stolas never meet. “I’m a what now?”

“An idiot,” Husk repeated. He crossed his arms, indicating Lucifer with his head. “That’s Lucifer. The literal King of Hell.”

For a moment, Alastor was silent. Then, he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Has that druid of yours stuffed your head full of spiderwebs, Husker? I’ve summoned plenty of demons in my time, and that is too angelic-looking to be any sort of demon, let alone the King of Hell!”

Husk rolled his eyes and turned to look at Lucifer, the fear and awe clearly still evident in his voice as he spoke. “...Did he ever use an aura identification spell on you?”

Lucifer blinked owlishly. “A what?”

Husk sighed, muttering something under his breath about “a pair of motherfucking idiots,” then raised his hand, fingers crackling with magic. After a brief incantation, a shimmering light surrounded Lucifer. It pulled gently at him, quietly coaxing his true form to come out. And come out it did; six angelic wings unfurled, horns sprouted from his head, and his tail thrashed out behind him. A blazing aura of celestial and infernal power intertwined, making the air around him vibrate with raw energy.

He looked over at Alastor, fully expecting any of the usual reactions to his true demonic form: fear, loathing, disgust… those were emotions he was used to. But instead, he found pure, unadulterated awe and something else entirely that made his heart skip a beat - desire. Hunger. A deep-seated need.

Alastor’s eyes were wide, not in fear, but in sheer admiration. His smile widened into a grin, filled with excitement and fascination. His gaze raked over Lucifer, drinking in every detail of his true demonic form. When he spoke, it was with a voice filled with absolute reverence.

“Beautiful,” Alastor whispered, his eyes flashing that lovely, brilliant green the longer he stared. “Absolutely beautiful.”

A strange warmth spread through Lucifer at the reaction, causing him to duck his head a little bit, rubbing the back of his neck. Striking fear in the hearts of mortals and demons alike had always sort of been his thing. But this? Alastor’s utter delight and fascination with his true form? This was entirely new. And well, he was liking it much more than he cared to admit.

A heavy sigh and a snap of Husk’s fingers drew him from his thoughts. Lucifer’s true form shimmered as the spell ended, fading away with barely a whisper. This left him in his usual, less intimidating appearance, yet the almost palpable tension between him and Alastor remained. Off to the side, Husk shook his head, clearly done with the whole situation.

“You know what? I need a fucking drink,” he stretched, then moved towards the door. “Good luck, Al. You’re gonna need it.” With that, he wandered off, muttering about needing something extra strong to wash down the bullshit he had just witnessed.

Silence fell as the door clicked behind him, leaving Alastor and Lucifer alone in the room. Alastor’s face was still frozen in that expression of awe and delight, while Lucifer’s mind raced with everything he had just learned. The air between them crackled with tension, thick with unspoken emotion. It hung in the air, shimmering with an almost fragile vulnerability. Lucifer could almost sense how much neither of them wanted to move, too afraid of shattering this beautiful new Thing that had now developed between them.

Well… he wasn’t one of the most powerful beings in all of creation for nothing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Showtime.

“You know…” Lucifer said slowly, his voice a low and dangerous purr. He began moving closer to Alastor, his red and gold pools locking with Alastor’s deep browns. “There’s a huge price to pay for summoning the Devil. Especially since you’ve done it so many times.”

Alastor swallowed hard, his smile faltering slightly. “Am I correct in guessing it would be my eternal soul?”

Lucifer stopped in front of him, grinning wickedly, then inhaled deeply. The sharp scent of pine and chicory filled his nose. He could feel the warlock’s breath stutter against his skin, sending a thrill down his spine. “Maybe… but first…” His smile softened into something more tender. “You have to go to dinner with me.”

Alastor blinked, shock clearly written all over his face, yet a glimmer of excitement lit up in his eyes. “D-dinner?”

Was this the first time Alastor actually stuttered in front of him? Shit, this man was absolutely adorable. “Yeah. Dinner. You can think of it as a first date. I…” He shifted his gaze towards the floor where their first soul-mating circle had been etched. “I have a lot I need to explain to you.”

For a moment, Alastor was silent, his gaze searching Lucifer’s face. Then, slowly, his shock melted away, replaced by a mixture of relief and a nervous, almost palpable excitement. “A date with the King of Hell himself. I would be a fool to refuse!”

Lucifer stepped even closer, until they were chest to chest. One alabaster hand reached out and gently took Alastor’s, intertwining their fingers. “Then it’s settled. I’ll take you somewhere special.”

Alastor’s smile softened into something genuine and warm that highlighted his best features. “I’d like that.”

The next thing Lucifer knew, he was leaning in, his lips capturing Alastor’s in a searching, passionate kiss. Alastor let out a tiny, shocked squeak, eyes widening in surprise before he melted into the kiss, both hands reaching for Lucifer’s shoulders for support. Lucifer’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped in even closer, deepening the fiery inferno between their locked lips.The world seemed to disappear around them as they moved together in perfect harmony, a spark igniting a fire that roared to life between them.

Lucifer’s hands cupped Alastor’s face, holding him close, savoring the taste of pine and chicory that lingered on his lips. In turn, Alastor’s fingers threaded through Lucifer’s hair, knocking off his hat and pulling him impossibly closer. In that moment, contentment and joy surged through Lucifer, granting him a level of fulfillment that he hadn’t dared to dream of, a sense of completeness that only Alastor could provide.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and exhilarated, they rested their foreheads against each other. Lucifer’s gaze fell on Alastor’s eyes.

Wait.

Those eyes.

They were a breathtaking shade of verdant green, shining so brightly that they seemed to hold the very essence of life itself within them. There was not a single trace of brown left in them; instead, the verdant irises seemed to glow with an otherworldly radiance, pulsating with a magic that transcended mortal comprehension. Lucifer stared in awe, utterly entranced by those green pools, ancient, beautiful, and brimming with the magic of Eden.

Alastor’s hand caressed his jaw, tracing the contours of his face with a reverence that bordered on divine. “That was…” the warlock’s voice trailed off, his eyes widening in wonder as he met Lucifer’s gaze once more.

“Amazing?” Lucifer asked playfully.

Alastor shook his head. “...More like soul-shattering.”

Lucifer chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently over Alastor’s cheek. Then, he took Alastor’s hand again, feeling a warmth deep in his chest that he hadn’t felt in eons. “You have no idea.” Then, he took a step back, intertwining their fingers together. “Ready to head out?”

Alastor nodded, those beautiful green eyes flashing with unbridled joy. “Lead the way, Starlight.”

Fanart Appreciation Time!

AGMochi is collabing with me this week! Check out their companion piece here!