Chapter Text
Bad tickles. Bad tickles everywhere. It hurt so bad…maybe? Honestly, it was hard to tell. What counted as pain? Angels, even fallen ones, didn’t really understand the concept of pain. They could feel it, but it was super hard to recognize it for what it was sometimes, because they weren’t created to be able to feel it. Or had they been?
Was it a flaw in The Almighty’s design if angels could feel pain? Or were they actually created to be able to feel this way, just like humans, but they’d been lying to themselves and each other for all of existence about it? Really, it wasn’t very clear. It would be helpful if The Almighty would tell them what was going on just a bit more often, and-
Ow. Ow!
Lucifer whimpered as a fresh new wave of bad tickles hit him. It wasn’t fair. He shouldn’t be feeling this anymore. He was out of the box…egg…whatever that thing had been. Whatever! That…thing wasn’t doing…something to him anymore, so why were the bad tickles still there? Why couldn’t they just leave him alone?
And why couldn’t he just focus for five seconds enough to just describe what was going on?
Everybody already thought he was a joke. Lucifer couldn’t remember the last time he’d been taken seriously. Sinners feared him, right up to the moment that they laid their eyes on him, and then they either laughed or ignored him completely and he wasn’t sure which reaction was worse. The people didn’t respect his power and authority the way they did Lilith’s. She was their Queen, and he was just the loser who was the reason why they were stuck here in the first place.
The sorry excuse for a king who was so useless that he let somebody else trick him and use his power to almost destroy half of Pentagram City and…
No. No! Don’t think about that. Don’t think about the Sinners who had died, or the angel who had gotten hurt, or the fact that this was all his fault and Charlie was going to hate him forever and…and…
Lucifer yelped as the bad tickles in his foot flared up so much that it went numb. He stumbled and was too caught up in his own head and sore from the bad tickles to even try to catch himself. He faceplanted into a pile of rubber ducks. He groaned and just let himself sink and get buried by the toys.
He hated this. He couldn’t even stand on his own two feet without making a fool of himself. Maybe he should just stay here in his room until this stupid maybe-pain stopped, however long that would take. He didn’t really want to be alone right now. He’d been alone for so long, and he felt like if he didn’t get out there and just be near people, even sinners, then he would start to drown in his own isolation.
But how was he supposed to be around anybody right now? After what he’d done to them? After what had been done to him? What would people think if they saw him like this? Would they laugh? Would they hate him? Would they capture him and throw his weakness in his face? Would they use him again?
It was safer to stay up in his room, even if he couldn’t stand the loneliness.
He wanted to talk to Charlie. He was starving for her attention, but he hadn’t seen her since he’d been let out of the box thing. And his memory of that night was so shaky that he wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t just imagined her being there. His last solid memory of his daughter was her fury at him. The disgust and anger in her eyes as she’d loomed over him. The way she’d sent him away.
She hadn’t apologized, and she shouldn’t have to, because he was the one who had messed up. It was always his fault. But he had maybe hoped just a little bit that he hadn’t actually ruined everything. That Charlie had just been having a really bad day and he’d just made it worse, but now that she was doing better then she would be willing to hear out an apology.
But if Charlie had had a bad day then she would have apologized for it, and she hadn’t, which meant that it was all Lucifer’s fault, and how was he supposed to make up for that?
He couldn’t face her when she was still mad at him. Especially not when he’d been tricked and caught so easily and turned into a weapon that had killed the sinners that she cared so much about.
If he couldn’t talk to Charlie, and he couldn’t face the sinners, but he couldn’t be alone, what was he supposed to do? Usually when he felt like this he would call on the Sins, but he’d been neglecting them too, running from his work and brushing them off. He knew he needed to answer their calls, and he would…soon. But not now.
The only option left was Va…Vaj...Ver…uh…
He was a horrible father. He couldn’t even remember the name of his daughter’s girlfriend. He tried. He tried so hard. But he was so bad at names at the best of times, and this was far from one of his best times. His brain felt like mush. And for a while now every time somebody said her name he could swear they were all saying something completely different. Was that just him? Was he just going insane?
Whatever her name was, Charlie’s girlfriend was the one being in Hell he could possibly talk to, and he didn’t know if he wanted to or not. He’d seen her a few times since he returned to the hotel, because he needed to tell someone he was there. She said it was fine for him to stay, and he took her word for it. Charlie trusted her, and Lucifer didn’t have anywhere else to go. He couldn’t return to the palace. Not now. Not when he was feeling like this.
He’d tried to talk to Charlie’s girlfriend about what exactly it was that he was feeling, because he thought she might understand. She was an angel, after all. She should remember when pain had been a foreign concept to her, and maybe she’d be able to tell him if these bad tickles really were pain or not.
Lucifer had tried to explain exactly what he was feeling, with the bad tickles and the occasional numbness, and the need to shake out his limbs as though something was crawling around under his skin. She’d just given him a weird look that was part annoyed, part pitying, and part fond patience. She told him that limbs falling asleep was a completely normal and harmless thing, and then she walked away to deal with some issues in the hotel, leaving Lucifer more confused than before.
He knew how it felt for his limbs to fall asleep. It didn’t happen often, but when he sat weirdly for too long he definitely got the numb tingling in his feet. But that wasn’t the same as his bad tickles. At least, he didn’t think it was. They were a little similar, but the bad tickles were far worse. But maybe this was what limbs falling asleep actually felt like for everybody else, and he was just complaining about nothing.
If he could just find the right words to describe what he was feeling maybe he could get a real answer. He couldn’t really bother Charlie’s girlfriend when he didn’t even know how to explain his concerns. She was too busy. And if Lucifer dragged her away from her work so she could give him the attention and help that he craved then maybe she and Charlie would have another fight, and he didn’t want to be responsible for that. Not again.
So he stayed in his room and switched from curling up on his bed and telling himself that his blanket was the strongest shield in all of Hell, to pacing around like a madman. He wished he could stay in his bed and never leave it again, but being still for too long made the bad tickles worse. And even though he found comfort in his blankets, if he let himself get lost in his head when he was all snuggled up then he started to feel trapped. Confined. He’d never struggled with claustrophobia before, but apparently it was now a thing. Fun. Thanks, V…Vod? Vlog? Or maybe it was Box. Wait, no, he’d been trapped in a box. Right?
Those details didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had to deal with it still, so now instead of cuddling in his bed he had to get up and pace around his room so frantically that he was practically jogging. He found a very small amount of comfort in telling himself that he was like a dog. Between his pacing and his flapping arms, he felt like a frightened duck on the water, kicking rapidly to stay afloat and flapping to try to scare away potential threats.
If he was at all in the mood for shape-shifting or using his powers he would summon a pond in his bedroom, turn into a dog, and just let loose. But the thought of using his power when he knew the destruction it had caused made him feel like he was going to be sick. He couldn’t hurt Charlie anymore.
Lucifer wished that Charlie’s girlfriend hadn’t told him that he’d been trapped inside of a weapon of mass destruction. There were so many other things they could have talked about during that first conversation when he returned to the hotel. Why couldn’t she have just left him in the dark?
He had no idea how long he was in his pile of ducks for. Maybe three minutes. Maybe ten hours. For all he knew he had been here for five weeks. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. A being like him really didn’t need to eat, but getting himself out of his room and getting some food usually helped him to feel better, even if just for a moment. So even though he really didn’t want to he nudged aside all of his duckies and resurfaced. It took quite a bit more time for him to actually stand up and leave his room, but eventually he managed it and he felt a pulse of Pride grow inside of him.
Maybe it was pathetic to be proud of such a small thing, but it felt like a great accomplishment to him. And he was the embodiment of Pride. If he couldn’t latch on to even the smallest thing like this, who could?
Lucifer made his way downstairs. It must be ridiculously early in the morning, because he saw very few people around, and the early hours of the morning were the only remotely peaceful times in Hell. When everybody was either asleep or blackout drunk in the back of an alley. Lucifer felt the dread in his chest lighten. Maybe he wouldn’t run into anybody. Wouldn’t that be nice? He could go to the kitchen, make himself a breakfast sandwich with everything cut into the shape of little ducks, just because he could, and then retreat back into his room before any Sinners started to show their faces.
Lucifer hummed nonsensically as he stepped into the kitchen and started gathering some bread, eggs, and ham. He considered going all out, since he was already down here and alone, but the fancier a breakfast he made the more he would have to clean up, and he wasn’t entirely confident that he would remember to clean up after himself. He didn’t like leaving messes, but his thoughts always moved way faster than his body knew how to manage. He would always think of something new to do and he’d hurry to do it while the thought was in his head, completely forgetting about the small mess he left behind him.
And boy, could those small messes add up.
But he didn’t have to worry about that at all right now. Grab two eggs, two pieces of bread, a slice of ham, and immediately put everything else away. He cracked the eggs into a bowl so he could scramble them before cooking them. He told himself over and over to put just a little seasoning in his eggs, because flavor was nice, and he was so busy reminding himself of that that he just picked up his ham slice and threw it into the bowl with the eggs. Oops. That wasn’t what he’d wanted to do. He had planned on frying up the ham slice, but now it was soaked in egg.
That was okay. He could cut up the ham into small squares and scramble it with the eggs. Sure, it made a little bit more of a mess than he wanted to, but it was fine! It was fine.
He put the bread in the toaster and started cooking his eggs while he waited. Low and slow. Stir the eggs. Don’t stop stirring the eggs. If he stopped stirring them for a second then he would forget they were there at all and he would end up completely burning them to ash and almost starting a fire in the kitchen.
That had happened once…or twice…or maybe a few more than that. Honestly, it was hard to keep track of. Lilith had never been amused. She would always give him that disappointed glare. She didn’t yell, because that would require talking to him, and she avoided doing that as much as she could. She would just silently clean up his mess, shove an apple into his hands, and then ignore his apologies and excuses until he just sighed and left her alone.
Lucifer much preferred when those kind of incidents happened with the Sins. Beelzebub could fix basically any meal he ruined with just a wave of her hand and a small, friendly laugh. Leviathan and Mammon would eat basically anything he made, no matter how badly he’d messed it up, because he’d made it for them, and they thought that any gift from the King of Hell was a gift to be treasured, no matter how bad it was.
Satan always insisted on working side-by-side with Lucifer in the kitchen. Maybe he just wanted to consider himself on even footing with the Devil himself, or maybe he just wanted edible food before he got hangry, but food always turned out so much better when he made it with Satan. The Sin kept him focused and on task without making him feel like he was incompetent.
Asmodeus preferred to do the cooking himself, at least when he was with Lucifer. He would insist that he wanted to practice the cooking skills that he learned from his partner. Asmodeus said that the best way into a man’s heart, and his pants, was through his stomach, and who was Lucifer to deny him the chance to cook if he really wanted to?
When it was just Lucifer and Belphegor, that was when he nearly burned the kitchen down. She dozed off. He took advantage of the fact that somebody was there to listen to him ramble on and on about nonsense. And when the food inevitably burned they would just curl up on the couch and order take-out.
Man, he missed them. He wasn’t ready for the pressure of being King of Hell and leading the Sins, but he wanted to hangout with them. Could he get hangouts without addressing the massive elephant in the room that was his neglected duties? Probably not, and he knew the more he put it off the worse it would get, but he couldn’t deal with that yet. Soon. Very soon. He could tolerate his responsibilities again if it meant he could get his friends back.
Ding
Lucifer jolted when he heard the toaster. What was…oh. Oh! His toast. He ran to grab them, only to blink at the spatula in his hand. Why was he holding a…oh, yeah, the eggs. He’d forgotten about the eggs.
Well, they looked cooked now, and not even burnt. He quickly turned the stove off while he was thinking about it, and then put his eggs on a plate. He dug through one of the bottom shelves until he found his duck-shaped cookie cutter. It was hard to get the eggs into the shape he wanted them to be, because he’d forgotten to put the cutter on the pan and pour the eggs into that, like a mold. Oh well. He’d remember next time for sure.
At least he could still use it for his toast. It was definitely the cutest toast he’d ever seen, and he didn’t care what anybody else said, food that was cute tasted a thousand times better.
He sang a little duck song in between nibbles. And maybe he played with his toast a bit more than he ate it, but he felt better than he had in his room. Maybe he could hang around downstairs for a little longer and at least try to talk to someone else. Who knows? Maybe he could bring himself to face-
“Dad?”
“Charlie!” Lucifer turned, filled with the familiar excitement he always felt when he got to see his daughter. But she was looking at him weirdly. He didn’t know what that look meant. It didn’t look like anything good though. He felt his mood start to plummet. “What, uh, what’s up?”
Charlie looked stunned, but there was something in her eyes that inched just a little bit towards frustration. Oh, no. Was she mad at him? Was he not supposed to be in the kitchen? Was he not supposed to be in the hotel?! He’d told her girlfriend he was here, but he shouldn’t have assumed it would be enough. Of course it wouldn’t be. He should have talked to Charlie earlier.
“Where have you been?!” Charlie said frantically.
“My…uh…” Lucifer blinked. “My room?” Charlie groaned and rubbed her hand over her face. He felt slightly panicked. He didn’t want to upset her, and he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I can, uh, get out of your way.” He could leave the kitchen. Or the hotel. Whatever his little girl needed.
“What? No!” Charlie jolted towards him. Maybe she just wanted to put her hands on his shoulders, or to hug him or something. Or maybe he’d forgotten to turn the stove off again and she wanted to stop a fire. He was sure her movement wasn’t done maliciously, but he couldn’t help but flinch slightly. No touch. Not now. Please, not now.
Charlie froze, a wounded look on her face. “D-dad, you’re not…you’re not in my way.” She let out a tired laugh and rubbed the back of her neck. “Actually, I think I could really use your help.”
Help? Help! His daughter wanted his help! Charlie needed him. This was great! He could make things up to her. He could fix things. He could show her that he didn’t just ruin everything he touched.
“O-of course.” Lucifer said eagerly, with just a touch of anxiety. What if he just messed up again? “Anything.”
Charlie gave him a shaky smile. “I just…the city’s a mess. There was so much destruction, and loss, and…” She took a deep, calming breath while Lucifer felt his own chest tighten as the bad tickles returned.
Destruction. Because of him. That had been his power. How could Charlie even look him in the eye? How could he dare to face her? Who even knew how many sinners had died because he’d had a moment of foolishness? How could he even begin to make things right with her? Lucifer couldn’t even use his power to do something good for Charlie instead, because right at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to use his powers at all.
The thought of even waving his hand and changing his outfit made him feel like he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t even sure what he was wearing right now. Did he even look presentable? He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing his oversized sweatshirt and pajama pants. Oh, yeah, ultimate comfort. Loose and soft stuff didn’t trigger the bad tickles nearly as much as his nice suit did. Maybe he could find a more professional looking outfit that was just as comfy cozy as his sweatshirt.
“Dad!” Charlie’s sharp tone made it clear that this was not the first time she’d tried to get his attention. He jolted and blinked a few times as he tried to focus on her. Right. Charlie. Charlie was trying to talk to him. He was supposed to be listening to her. Focus.
“I’m listening.” Lucifer said. “I’m listening, just, uh, what were you saying?”
Charlie sighed. “I was saying that the city’s kinda a mess, and we need all the help we can get to clean things up.” Charlie wrung her hands together. Oh. His baby girl was upset. That wouldn’t do. Lucifer went to take her hands, forgetting about the toast he was still holding. He very quickly set his toast down, brushed the crumbs off on his shirt, and then he took her hands.
“Of course I’ll help.” Lucifer said as he gave her a soft smile. He knew he wasn’t fond of Sinners, but this was still his city, and the destruction wasn’t their fault, it was his. Besides, Charlie cared about these people, and what Charlie cared about he cared about. “Just tell me what I can do.”
Charlie gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks, Dad. I just…I feel like none of this would have happened if I’d just done things differently, and saying sorry feels useless after something like this. So I thought maybe if I can’t say I’m sorry then all I can do is show I’m sorry by trying to fix things.”
Oh. Maybe that was how he could make things up to her. He could show her he was sorry by helping to fix the destruction. He didn’t want to go out into the city. He could barely bear to leave his room when nobody else was around. But if this was what it took to get on Charlie’s good side again, so be it. He’d suck it up, help out as much as he could without his power, and then curl up on his bed afterward to recharge. He could do this.
Lucifer smiled, pushing down his dread. He gave Charlie’s hands a reassuring squeeze, and he hoped that she didn’t notice the way his hands spasmed as the bad tickles struck. “Where do we start?”