Chapter Text
Alastor knew something was off when he woke up in the exact same position as yesterday. It was something that was quite unusual for him, after all. His shadow was withering on the other side of the room and his thoughts of the past day seemed muddled. It was as though he was picking them out of a big pot of glue. Strange, usually he had quite a fine grasp on his memories. He hoped he wasn't getting old, mentally at least.
Alastor rolled over in his bed. The smell of his bayou and the comforting sound of insects chirping settled some of the nerves that had decided to creep into his chest. Everything around him seemed normal— to an extent. His body tingled violently, almost as if the blood had been cut off from every single limb during the night and he groaned as he managed to raise himself into a sitting position. His mind sluggishly recalling what little memories he had to have caused such a feeling in his bones.
A small frown between his eyes, and a large smile plastered across his face. He brushed off the odd feeling and straightened in the mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary. He had a strong sense of deja-vu as he dressed himself and made his way down to breakfast. Shoes softened by the carpet, hands wound behind his back, the picture of a ‘normal Alastor.’ The hotel had a quiet atmosphere during the weekend mornings and Alastor didn’t find himself running into anyone as he traversed through the hallways. Alastor lived on the top floor of the hotel, along with Lucifer, opposite ends of the hallway of course. Alastor took one look at the lift and opted for the stairs this morning instead. Maybe getting some steps in will alleviate some of the tingling still coursing through his muscles.
The kitchen was clean when Alastor stepped into it, switching on the soft glowing lights that sat underneath the cabinets and setting the radio off with a flick of his fingers. Soft jazz filtered through the air, intertwined with Alastor's staccato hums. He pottered round the kitchen, grabbing various pans and setting off a low heat before heading off to the fridge, searching for eggs.
He opened it to find a tupperware box that he was sure he used yesterday. He paused and opened it curiously, the venison was in there. But… he was sure that he ate it yesterday for lunch. Confident in fact. Especially since Lucifer came down and said something along the lines of “isn’t that like cannibalism for you?” Like that was enough to make Alastor recoil from eating it.
Hmm. Maybe Nifty went shopping. It wasn’t on the planner but a little spontaneity never harmed anyone. He shrugged, placing it back into the fridge with the plan for having it at lunch and grabbed two eggs with his left hand. He was just finishing up his breakfast when Charlie came plodding into the kitchen, hair askew and pajamas still ruffled from sleep. A commonly early riser she was, but it didn't mean that she always had to be filled to the brim with joy about it.
“G’morning Alastor” she mumbled sleepily, rubbing at her eyes before grabbing a cereal box and pouring herself a bowl. The breakfast of champions.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Alastor finishing up and standing to go and wash up his dishes.
“So…” Charlie started, swallowing quickly around her cereal when Alastor gave her a pointed look over his shoulder, “I know it’s Saturday, and it's not scheduled but I had the most amazing idea for art therapy!” She grinned.
Alastor hummed in acknowledgement as his mind whirred. Saturday? Did he miss a day? Wasn’t it just Saturday yesterday?
“We could paint the scenes that give us the most peace!” Charlie continued “I was thinking specifically when sinners were alive but it might be a bit difficult to remember them after being in hell for so long—“ Alastor let Charlie continue rambling behind him as his brows furrowed together. Didn't they all do that yesterday? Alastor had painted a very nice bayou that he was quite proud of, he distinctly remembered it, they had all left their paintings in the art therapy room.
“Sounds delightful Charlie” Alastor quickly puts his clean dishes back into the cupboard, a new mission in his mind “I shall see you later today then?” he inquires as his shadows lick at his heels, eager to escape through the halls. Charlie nodded around a mouthful of cereal and Alastor took that moment to flee up towards the art therapy room.
As he suspected, nothing was here besides tables. All of the paints that everybody used yesterday were packed neatly into the cupboards, as if nobody had touched them in a week. The canvases that they had lined up against the wall yesterday to let dry were gone. Alastor frowned and his smile stretched manically across his face, was he losing his mind?
Maybe that goldfish sinner he ate a couple of days ago was finally catching up to him. He had never agreed much with freshwater fish. Alastor groaned and leaned against the wall, trying to recall as much about yesterday that he could in his mind. He wasn't going crazy, he knew he wasn't. If he had it would have been ages ago, decades! There must be an explanation for this, maybe he just had a really precognitive dream. His mother would get those every now and again.
“Don't go the backroads today, don't know why but lets just call it a mothers feeling” then she would kiss him on his cheek and he would be off to school. Always heeding her words.
All of his other memories served correct, that much he was sure, it's just things that got moved yesterday were no longer there. Only yesterday, as far as he knew. This was fine, the hotel wasn’t under attack and as far as he was concerned yesterday– or the dream about yesterday (today?) didn't have any catastrophic event, it was actually quite a calming day. The only thing of importance was the acid rain scheduled for five this evening, carrying on throughout the night. As long as nobody got caught out in it– which he doesn't recall happening in his dream– everybody should be just fine.
Alastor didn't know what was going on, but he did know that his dream didn't end badly, it was quite pleasant actually. So as long as he did exactly the same thing, or near enough, maybe this strange psychicness would end and he could get back to normal.
—
He floated through the day, humming a soft short tune as he walked if only to say that he was doing something. From what he could recall, there wasn't much happening today so he decided to retire back to his quarters, maybe a spot of hunting would clear his mind. Help him brush off this odd feeling that had accumulated throughout his bones.
It was around one o'clock in the afternoon when Charlie came to knock on his door, asking if he would be up for a spot of painting, reminding Alastor of the conversation they shared this morning and politely turning her down.
“Al, are you feeling alright?” she had asked, concern lacing through her words like twine.
“Perfectly fine, my dear” he offered as she shrugged slightly.
“Alright, I'll see you at dinner.” Alastor was glad that Charlie wasn't keen on pushing when it came down to him. Assured that if he wanted to join in something he would do it himself.
Alastor didn't go to dinner. He stayed in his room, trying to brush off the feeling of ‘wrongness’ that had enveloped his day. Digging into deeper instincts that he had developed when falling into Hell. Trying to make him freeze, to find a small place of comfort and wait there until the feeling goes away, until his mother came and assured him that everything was alright.
Silly things really.
Alastor ended the first day curled under his sheets, a soft piano piece playing from the radio on his bedside and the bayou buzzing with insects, trying to assure himself that he wasn't going crazy. That tomorrow would be better.
—
Alright, this was the second day things felt off. Alastor stalked through the hallways of the hotel, an almost ear piercing screeching following him as he made his way down to the kitchen, rubbing aggressively at the pins and needles still biting into his skin.
His ear twitched as a door down the hallway slammed open and Angel's voice ran cleanly through the hotel “Hey Smiles! Can ya keep it down with the whole radio imitation of a rooster!? Some of us still have to work nights!” which was followed by the door shutting, quite aggressively might he add.
Alastor cleared his throat and managed to bring his screeching down to a slightly higher pitched buzz than normal as he made his way down the stairs. Pushing open the kitchen door with vigour and opening the fridge. Once again the tupperware of venison was lying innocent on the top shelf. He decided that he should have it for breakfast this morning. Maybe having a treat will improve his mood, and end whatever debauched, childish prank the gods have seemed to decide to play on him this time.
—
By the third day, Alastor had become increasingly bored with the same pickup lines that Angel seemed to say to Husk and strived to avoid the bar from two pm till four pm. Alastor didn't think that he could handle another two hours of them flirting.
On the fourth day he attended the art therapy session again, pleasantly surprised to see the king himself there. Sans his coat and hat with his sleeves rolled up. Alastor was in much better spirits after tipping over Lucifer’s water ‘accidentally’, and finding increasingly creative ways to flick paint onto the king's trousers. This was ‘creative’ therapy time after all and Alastor did feel much lighter when he left the king spluttering over the state of his clothes and Charlie’s soft voice of “maybe next time wear an apron, Dad.”
—
On the fifth day, he did not leave his room.
Alastor sat with his head in his hands, still dressed in his black silken pajamas wondering why the heavens decided to curse him so. He hadn't done anything wrong– well, not recently anyway. Not enough to warrant five days stuck in the same eighteen hours. At least he didn't think so.
Alastor stayed there, curled up at the top of his bed until his mouth was dry and the urge to drown his mind in bloodshed was almost overwhelming.
He ignored the soft knock from Charlie, asking if he was coming to the impromptu art therapy lesson. He’s already gone twice, twice was quite enough for him, thank you very much.
On the sixth day he fled the hotel, eating seven sinners on his way to Rosie’s and ended up feeling too sick to continue his stroll. Reptilian sinners never did agree much with him. He’d blame the deer form he was granted when he came to hell but that was a lazy form of putting the blame onto something else. Who’s to know if it was true or not. He spent the rest of his day back in his suite. Positive that he’d never spent as much time in his room as he had done over the past (repeated) eighteen hours.
He spent day seven, eight and nine trying to do things exactly the same as the original Saturday, waking up and going downstairs at the same time. Talking to Charlie and painting the same picture of his bayou three times over. He got positively sick of that routine pretty quickly.
On the tenth day he stole Charlie’s whiteboard and a couple of her pens. Eating his Venison in his room as he mumbled to himself. Writing words and patterns and diagrams on the blank canvas that by the end of the day looked like a pen exploded. Multiple times. With a knife trying to cut through it. He was convinced that he looked slightly mad if anyone had decided to drop in on him to see him still clad in pajamas and scribbling all over a whiteboard, but at this point he didn't really care.
On the eleventh day he went and killed everyone in his sight, rolling through the other Overlords territories like a wrecking ball, a very bloody one. If tomorrow never came, that means he wouldn't get in trouble. All these sinners would just respawn tomorrow anyway.
On the twelfth day he did actually go to Rosie’s, only eating a small fleshy sinner that had bumped into him on the way there. He deserved it anyway. Probably.
“Rosie, my dear!” He called out into the quiet of her emporium. Her shop was always closed on a Saturday so that it could be open for Sunday when all the other shops took a day off. Rosie told him it was tactical in business. (like her emporium wasn't the most popular in all of Cannibal Town.)
“Alastor! Goodness, if I knew you were popping around I would have prepared something.” Rosie swung herself down the banister and enveloped him in a hug that squeezed out a sharp squeak from him.
“Oh please, I don't expect you to play host every time I want to see my friend.” he patted her on the back as she squeezed him tighter before letting him go and observing his face.
She frowned in a way that made Alastor want to shrink back, “Alright, what's wrong?”
Alastor rolled his eyes “honestly, there's no getting by you is there?” he let his smile drop a fraction “am I not allowed to just come visit you and gossip?”
Rosie smiled and shook her head, “Not when something's bothering you, tell me and then we’ll gossip.” She patted the side of his arm and led him to where they usually sat, blood tea and biscuits appearing on the table with a flick of her wrist. She poured him and herself a cup before sitting back, cradling the tea cup and saucer in her hands.
“You haven't noticed anything weird about today at all, have you?” Alastor started, deciding to get straight to the point. Maybe if he did, Rosie would be able to tell him if he had begun to lose his mind. More so than usual.
She hummed “no, not really.” She frowned, tilting her head as Alastor deflated against his chair. Bringing the back of his hands against his eyes and groaning.
“I feel as though I've been living in the same day on repeat Rosie.” he blinked as the spots from his vision vanished and he looked upwards “today is saturday, yesterday was saturday, the day before that—”
“Let me guess,” Rosie smiled.
“Saturday” they said at the same time.
“I wouldn't lie to you Rosie.” Alastor admitted, sipping his tea and relaxing slightly as the warmth settled over him.
“I know” Rosie grinned “I know you wouldn’t Alastor, you're a good man” she mumbled as she set her tea down on the table with a soft clink. Letting out a soft sigh of relief, he knew he could count on Rosie to not make him feel as though he was on a one track train to insanity-ville. However in hell, that was quite possibly where ninety percent of all sinners were going, so was it really that big of an issue?
“So, you’re in a Timeloop?” Rosie supplied and Alastor blinked.
“Yes,” Alastor hummed, thinking back to a book he had read with a similar plotline to that, ”yes, I suppose that is the most accurate term.”
“Is it just you?” Rosie inquired and Alastor nodded carefully.
“I haven't seen anyone else act any differently—” He stopped, mulling over the last couple of days. Lucifer hadn’t shown up for the last art therapy. He had mulled about at different times each day, some days staying in his room and not conversing with anyone at all.
“Lucifer.” Alastor hissed, his eyes flashing black for a moment. He put down his tea, standing up abruptly and swinging his arm over the back of Rosie’s chair to squeeze at her shoulder “Thank you my dear, I know you won't remember any of this come morning but you've been a huge help.”
Rosie hummed a short jaunty tune happily, patting Alastor on his hand before the sinner shot out the door and fell into the shadows.
—-
If he was being completely honest, Lucifer didn’t realise he was stuck in the same day. He did think it was weird that art therapy was on at the same time every day but maybe Charlie was trying something new this week! The most recent duck he made kept disappearing though and he had high suspicions that it was the bellhops doing. He tried to corner Alastor a couple of days ago, to no avail, the guy was even more difficult to track down than himself. It was an unprecedentedly nice week, he didn’t hear of any new guests arriving for tours and the weather had been quite pleasant— surprisingly so considering they lived in hell. Raining at the same time each day, why, it was a miracle.
It had been a quiet morning. He had started to make the duck that had been missing again recently, thankfully he had already sketched out the design in his sketchbook so he had a base to follow. He was just finishing up the eyes when an irritated buzz of static outside the door interrupted his quiet workflow.
The door slammed open and Alastor barged in, an angry grimace on his face and accusatory eyes. Lucifer had jumped slightly, flinching away from the noise as he tried to steady the hand holding his paintbrush.
“You know what’s happening, don't you?!” Alastor had practically growled, the manic smile on his face wavering slightly at the edges. God, if Alastor was intent on losing his mind, could he do it somewhere other than Lucifer’s rooms?
Lucifer blinked up at him, “What?”
“Why the day keeps resetting?”
Lucifer looked stunned for a moment before he blinked, confusion falling over his face as carefully as rainfall as he mumbled out a short “the day keeps resetting?”
Alastor looked on for a small moment. He blinked, disbelief glinted in his eyes sharply, static humming with confusion before a small barked laugh echoed around the room. It continued for less than five seconds before Alastor spun round to fix that creepy red eyed glare on him again. Honestly, Lucifer hadn't even left his room yet and this conversation feels like something he should be attempting when coffee was in his system.
“Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice.” Alastor snarled and Lucifer frowned, this guy should really get those yellow teeth checked out, when was the last time he went to the dentist?
“Okay I won’t tell you”
“Lucifer!”
“You told me not to tell you!” Lucifer pushed back against the desk, throwing his arms out in exasperation.
“Please tell me you have not been walking around the hotel in the same day for more than a week and didn’t notice that something was amiss.”
Lucifer very pointedly looked down at the duck in his hands. The one he had been making has been missing a lot, now that he thought about it. He just figured Alastor was stealing them. Lucifer raised his gaze back up to the sinner to his left. Static hissing and popping with slowly growing agitation.
“So it wasn’t you who stole my ducks?”
A whineful buzz skipped in the air “Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.” Lucifer shrugged with a small quirk of his lips.
Alastor sighed and pinched his nose, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like angry French before looking back up at Lucifer. A very, calm patient expression on his face. It was so calm that it gave Lucifer whiplash from the previous angry expression.
“No, I did not steal your ducks.”
Lucifer blinked “Oh…good!” He said dumbly, before turning back to painting his duck.
Alastor looked on, a shocked expression slowly morphing into one of genuine anger.
“I demand you to stop this!” he growled through hissing static.
“Stop what?” Lucifer looked up, surprised “painting?”
“What? No!” Alastor stormed forward to take the duck out of Lucifer's hand with a sharp ‘hey!’ of protest.
“I want you to stop whatever madness spell you have placed upon this hotel!”
“I haven’t put any spell on the hotel, and it’s a common misconception that the devil does spells.” He spat the word out like it was a slur, climbing on top of the stool he was sitting on to try and grab the duck out of Alastor’s hand again.
Alastor decided to feed into his anger, throwing the duck halfway across the room. It crashed against the wall with a depressed squeak.
“If it isn’t you, then who is it?”
Lucifer looks horrified at Alastor's blatant treatment of his rubber ducks, turning to Alastor with blazing red eyes. Which was now slightly more intimidating since standing on the chair made him almost a head taller than Alastor himself.
“What makes you think that you can just barge in here and–”
“Oh please Sire, spare me” Alastor snapped, ears flattening against his head. His static reaching a high pitched squealing that would have had anyone in near proximity of a mile covering their ears in agony, “--but i have been living in the same day for almost two weeks and let me tell you, it starts to get real frustrating when your daughter tries to get me join the same activity every. single. day!”
Lucifer seemed unbothered by Alastor’s outburst, barely flinching as the static increased to a high-pitched whining to show Alastor’s annoyance.
“I didn’t do anything,” Lucifer stressed, “at least not on purpose.”
He hummed a questioning noise, blinking as his eyes cleared back to their normal yellow “does anyone else know?” The groan he got in retaliation answered that question for him, he supposed.
Lucifer sat back down in his chair again, swinging his legs and watching as Alastor aggressively walked round his room, hands tugging through his hair in a way that looked almost painful. Lucifer pinched his face, wincing in sympathy at Alastor’s poor hair (and not just for the haircut) as it got aggressively tugged on again.
“…okay, so say that we are stuck in a timeloop—“ the static skipped in frustration and Lucifer frowned “—what do we do?”
This made Alastor pause for a minute
“I—“ he let out a static laced groan. He looked up to Lucifer “I figured you would have done something to have created all of this but since you haven’t, I struggle to come up with a solution other than make you start time back up again.”
Lucifer shrugged nonchalantly, spinning slightly in his chair. “Time isn’t really my forte, it’s too tricky— too many bits and bobs to sort out and it can get really complicated really fast.”
Alastor frowned “if it wasn’t you, then who was it?” He repeated, hissing the question through jagged teeth.
“Beats me, whoever they are must’ve been powerful though.”
Alastor growled “that doesn’t help!”
“I know just—” Lucifer looked at Alastor wearily “would you just…chill?”
The look that Alastor gave him. If Lucifer wasn't already dead, and the devil (from the bible) he might have just perished due to the raging heat that burned behind those radio dials.
“Alright… don't chill” Lucifer scoffed and swivelled further in his chair as Alastor had a mental breakdown behind him. He spied his duck over the other side of the room and hopped over to pick it up. Dusting it off slightly and grimacing at the paint splatter that covered what was once its eye. Oh well, if he really was in a time loop at least he could just repaint it tomorrow.
He heard the door open and close, the screech of annoyed static trailing behind the door like a bad smell and Lucifer shook his head in exasperation. Sinners, he scoffed, always so emotional.
—
Alastor spent the next two days in the loop scouring around the hotel, trying to find any reason for why this was happening to him, (and by default, Lucifer) It was on one of these impromptu scavenger hunts that he ran into the king of hell once again. Sans his coat and hat, he looked even shorter than usual, just coming up to Alastor’s chest.
Alastor let out a blat of irritated static at the interruption.
“You doing okay there, Bambi?” Lucifer looked up questioningly and Alastor hissed.
“Dont call me that.”
Lucifer snickered “What? Worried your forest is going to burn down?”
“What?” Alastor frowned as Lucifer shook his head, "nevermind" he said, dismissing the previous conversation.
Alastor growled through his buzzing static as he continued stalking through the hallway, hands thrown behind his back, clutching his staff with vigour as he looked through each room. He had gotten a measly thirty steps before he swung round, facing the king once again. Sticking his staff in the king's chest.
“Why are you following me? What– Not enough ducks to make anymore?” He jabbed and Lucifer blinked, raising one finger to gently push the point of the staff away.
“First of all, no, there can never be enough ducks to make, thank you a-very much, secondly, I was curious, what are you doing?”
Alastor growled again, his static hissing with agitation before he forced himself to take a breath “I’m trying to figure out why we're stuck in a timeloop.”
“By stalking around the halls of the hotel like a brooding duck?” Lucifer snorted. Alastor let out a screech of radio, eyes turning to radio dials and antlers branching out to scrape against the ceiling of the hallway.
“Alright, Jeeze, not a duck” Lucifer mumbled, clearly not even the least perturbed by Alastor’s demonic side “a deer then” he spat “a brooding deer.”
Alastor had had quite enough of this. Grabbing Lucifer’s shirt and pushing him against the wall with enough force to rattle teeth “I would appreciate it if you left me alone,” he hissed.
Lucifer looked up at the sinner, eyebrows raised and mischief glinting behind his eyes “i cant really leave you alone when im pushed up against the–” he cut himself off, looking down the corridor and in a quick show of strength that he barely used; he threw Alastor off him as the sinner let out a startled bleat.
Lucifer shoved him into a nearby door, protesting against the sharp screech of static and covering a hand around Alastor’s mouth trying to silence him. (unsuccessfully might he add) Pushing his body up against Alastor’s in the cramped space. The sliver of light that came through the gap between the door and the frame barely lit up the small space and Alastor found himself looking down at glowing red eyes.
Lucifer shushed him with a sharp hiss through his teeth as footsteps grew closer. High pitched humming was all the indication Alastor needed to recognise it as Charlie. He waited until she was down the hallway before opening his mouth, licking across the digits that had wrapped themselves around his face.
Lucifer pulled back with a disgusted yelp as Alastor laughed “you shouldn't put your fingers near a cannibal's mouth, it will end poorly I assure you.”
“God, you sinners” Lucifer mumbled, wiping his hand against his waistcoat.
“Why are you avoiding dear Charlotte?” Alastor hummed in a question when Lucifer looked back up.
“I didn’t want her to see us fighting, Hell knows she's seen enough of it already and I don't like making her upset.” he grumbled, finally wiping the rest of the moisture off his hand.
“She’ll just forget tomorrow.” Alastor straightened before ducking down again when his antlers scraped against a shelf.
“I’ll remember.” Lucifer replied, like that solved all of his questions.
Alastor hummed a condescending noise and he pushed against Lucifer, leaning over him to place a hand on the doorknob. It always felt so much easier to crowd other peoples spaces when it was under his own initiative rather than other people doing it to him.
“Well as enlightening as this was” Alastor grinned at the way Lucifer’s face flushed gold at their proximity “I still have things to do.” Alastor waited until Lucifer had stumbled through a reply before opening the door.
Lucifer fell backwards against the door as it swung open. Crashing against the floor in an undignified heap and grunting at the way the back of his head caught against the edge of the open door.
Alastor stepped over the curled up body of Lucifer as though he was nothing more than a lump on the rug.
He grinned “do excuse me your majesty” and his smile widened at the yelled “asshole!” floated through the hallway.
—
Alastor decided that on the sixteenth day he would go back to the original routine. So he shook off the– now familiar– numbness in his limbs and waltzed downstairs.
He was surprised to see Lucifer down so early in the morning. The king sat at the table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his hellphone. Honestly, Alastor never understood what was so good about recent technology. They were filled with propaganda, even more so in hell. Especially now thanks to a certain TV headed freak.
“Morning” Lucifer mumbled round a mouth of cereal.
“Dont talk with your mouth full.” Alastor said, his words falling out as easily as when his mother used to say it.
Lucifer swallowed before speaking again “so I’ve been thinking…”
“A dangerous pastime for how small your brain is, i’m sure” Alastor mumbled, pulling out the venison for breakfast.
“Hey, don't be an asshole this early in the morning, coffee hasn't even been made yet.”
Alastor motioned, zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key with a sort of detached interest as he grabbed a pan out from the bottom cupboard. Lucifer blinked slowly as Alastor looked over his shoulder, static increasing in its buzz as he turned the fire on.
“You were thinking…?” he prompted the king as he poured oil into the pan. Honestly, if the king could forget what he was saying after a measly ten seconds, hell really was in trouble… more so than usual.
Lucifer cleared his throat “I was thinking, how, since we’re the only two people stuck in this timeloop thing, we should at least have some fun with it.”
“Fun?” Alastor inquired, turning over his venison as the oil popped underneath it.
“Yeah! Think about it—” Lucifer stood, waltzing round the table and leaning against the counter next to Alastor “--the day resets every time we go to bed, so does everyone’s memories about the previous day!” Lucifer looked up as Alastor cooked his breakfast.
“So…?”
“So! We can do anything we want to, and nobody would be none the wiser!-- any wiser?” he frowned “Anyway–” he waved his hands around him “they wouldn't know!”
Alastor hummed as he moved his cooked venison to his plate, placing the pan in the sink and ingredients back where they belonged. He swung round and took a seat at the table, chewing his breakfast as he thought over Lucifer’s idea. It wasn't terrible and the steam he felt that he had let off after going on that rampage a couple of days ago (repeated days?) did feel good.
“Alright,” Alastor decided “what did you have in mind?”
This made Lucifer’s face drop slightly and he cringed, laying his black tainted hands over the back of one of the kitchen chairs “I haven't actually thought about anything yet, but–!” He raised his finger and pointed it in Alastor’s direction when the sinner let out a snort at Lucifer's non-existent planning skills. “-I’m sure the two of us can come up with something, after all,” he grinned “We’ve got today for the rest of eternity!”
Alastor merely raised an eyebrow and finished off the rest of his breakfast.
The rest of the day was not spent in the routine that Alastor had originally set out to do. Instead he was seated, criss-cross applesauce style on Lucifer’s carpet. A notebook opened in his lap and a pen twirling between his fingers as he watched the king scribble furiously into his own notebook.
“You know that all these notes are going to get erased come midnight, right?” he questioned, this seemed to make Lucifer pause in his scribbling. A dazed look overcame his eyes before he forcibly wiped it away and continued writing, humbling out a short “all the more reason to get ideas down so that I can stare at them later.” Alastor couldn't argue much with that.
They continued that for the remainder of the day, blinking at Charlie’s shocked expression when she had knocked on the door to inquire about dinner. Clearly only expecting her father to be in his room.
She had recovered quickly though with a smile and an “Dad, Alastor! There you are, are you both coming down for dinner?”
That's how they spent the next loop as well.
—-
Alastor was sitting on the couch in Lucifer's room. He had brought his book over and was stretched languidly across it like it was his own. Lucifer was tinkering away at his desk. A quiet piano piece was floating through the air, only interrupted by the turning of pages and clattering of metal tools. They had given up jotting down ideas for the day when Lucifer had gotten distracted a minimum of five times in the short time of a minute and a half (Alastor had been timing) and Alastor had already picked up a book half an hour before. They had fallen into a comfortable silence, something that, a couple of months ago, would have seemed utterly impossible.
Lucifer looked up suddenly, turning to Alastor with an inquisitive look. Alastor raised his gaze, an ear flicking in the kings direction.
“What if we changed the colour of every single wallpaper in the hotel?”
Alastor raised an eyebrow, considering as his smile grew.
“And what would we do when people asked about it?”
Lucifer smirked “we gaslight them of course!”
“What colour would we change it to?” Alastor asked, folding the corner of his book and setting it down on his lap.
“Blue?” Lucifer questioned.
Alastor frowned, “No,” he snapped, “no, anything but blue.”
Lucifer's eyebrows shot up “okay, not blue then… green?” He tried again.
Alastor nodded in approval as Lucifer grinned and kicked his feet, looking more like an excited toddler than the esteemed king of hell.
—
The next day Alastor awoke and stepped outside of his room, grinning triumphantly at the green that now marred the walls instead of red. He waltzed through the green halls as though nothing was out of sort. A familiar feeling of excitement bubbled up in his chest, a welcome difference from the anxiety that seemed to cling to his stomach during the first week of this whole ordeal. He hummed a joyful tune as he made his way through the halls to treat himself to his morning venison.
It was precisely half an hour before Lucifer came down and walked into the kitchen, a smug smile on his face when Alastor tilted his head in his direction.
“Adequate work.” Alastor grinned, biting into a sundried tomato and preened at the way Lucifer spluttered, almost dropping his bowl before placing it on the counter quite forcefully.
“Thanks!” he choked, before pouring the most sugary abomination Alastor had ever seen into it. Seriously, how could one possibly consume something as sweet as marshmallows this early in the morning. Let alone ever. Lucifer was just pulling out a chair and sitting down when a screech echoed round the hotel and a “what the FUCK?” was exclaimed by none other than Charlie Morningstar. Lucifer and Alastor exchanged snickering grins before Alastor finished off his plate and washed it out, slipping into the shadows and leaving Lucifer to burst out laughing in the kitchen.
—
“Why are the walls green?” Vaggi asked, as she came trotting down the stairs, eyes immediately landing on Alastor as though it was his fault. (which it was)
Alastor was sitting on the communal couch in the staff sitting area, the newspaper open in his lap and a cup of coffee on the table beside him. The vision of innocence– or as innocent as Alastor could get, which was saying something. (and probably extremely suspicious, Vaggi was right to be worried.)
“Whatever do you mean, my dear?” he stretched his smile "haven't they always?”
“Been green? No” she answered honestly, her eyebags growing larger by the second. She muttered something in Spanish and rubbed at her face before saying "I haven't had enough coffee to deal with you today.”
Alastor waved at her as she made her way towards the kitchen, on a mission to drown her sorrows (courtesy of Alastor) in coffee. Alastor leant back against the couch, sparing a glance at the green walls and letting a light chuckle escape him before looking back down at the newspaper in front of him. Really, if Alastor was going to continue buying Newspapers, Zestial should realise that they were in a timeloop and get some new articles.
It had barely been ten minutes when Lucifer came trotting in, stealing Alstor's mug, sipping it nonchalantly and grimacing at the taste. He had just started calling Alastor ‘psychotic’ for having his ‘coffee blacker than his soul’ when Charlie came running in, a strained smile on her face and her hands wringing in front of her.
“Dad, why are the walls green?” Alastor could see how Charlie was trying to hold herself back from full blown screeching. Voice cracking and a slightly higher pitch than normal.
Lucifer turned back to her, his face the pinnacle of innocent confusion, “What do you mean?”
Her eye twitched and she huffed out a breath that was bordering on a strangled scream “the walls are green, they were red yesterday.” she supplied patiently as Lucifer frowned.
“No, Charlie, they've always been green.” Alastor could applaud his majesty's efforts to keep this bit alive. Alastor was sure that he would have crumbled with awkwardness the moment Charlie got involved, the moment anyone got involved really. However, he was holding his own perfectly fine so far and Alastor chuckled softly at the way Lucifer added “are you feeling alright sweetie?”
Unfortunately at his amused noise, the princess looked down to meet his eyes and his static hummed louder in a quiet warning.
“Alastor, do you know why the walls are green?” she asked, and Alastor could practically see the wires frying themselves in her brain in the fight to not wrangle his neck.
“No, my dear, but I find it wholly entertaining.” he let his laugh track play around him, drowning out the surprised snickering when Charlie’s face pinched. He felt like a school boy again, playing pranks on his classmates before break ended.
He bit the bottom of his lip when Charlie’s face smoothed out and she turned to face the door, opening it she paused and turned back to them with a sharp glint in her eye “this better be fixed by tomorrow.”
Alastor held it in until she closed the door behind her. Once the door clicked shut he let out a breathy wheeze, looking up to Lucifer to see his face going a bright red, shoulders shaking as he tried to hone in his peals of laughter. That’s what broke him and they both collapsed laughing.
“So whahat–” Alastor inhaled sharply though his chuckling, clutching at his sides as he heaved. Lucifer looked up to him, for a man so adept at killing, his eyes were remarkably soft, “what’s nehext?”
Lucifer grinned up at him from the floor.