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Dancing was a rare indulgence for Alastor. Mostly because he could never find a decent partner. Mimsy, while good, is far too short. Rosie doesn’t know any good dances. Niffty is even shorter. Vox, when he was in a relationship with him, only knew modern dances. Most demons at the Hotel either have the same problem or are people he wouldn’t want to talk to, let alone dance with.
Then, Lucifer happened. After the Final Extermination, the King of Hell inserted himself into Alastor’s life and refused to leave. It started with him healing Alastor’s angelic wound, then drinking Alastor’s coffee, followed by making Alastor pancakes, then engaging in conversation daily, then flirting with Alastor, of all the stupid things, then, with Alastor’s reluctant permission, draping himself over Alastor on a near permanent basis, all until the Radio Demon had to admit that he had grown to…..care for Lucifer. When he admitted as such to Lucifer, he found himself the confused owner of a red rubber duck and, somehow, a royal boyfriend.
Luckily, Lucifer happened to be the perfect height for a dance partner, and knew most of Alastor’s favourite dances rather well! And, even luckier, he was very accustomed to dancing with a much taller partner.
Life, or death, was good.