Chapter Text
Alastor sits at the bar, facing out toward the lobby. His chest aches dully as he sips at his drink. He lifts a hand, rubbing gently around the wound. The skin there felt tight, the stitches pulling at his skin unpleasantly.
He brings his glass up to his lips once again.
Oh, it’s empty.
“Husker, my good pal.” Alastor sings, but his voice is strained, and he holds his glass out. There’s the sound of shuffling behind the bar, some clinking of glass, and then the sound of liquid pouring into the glass.
Alastor lets out a content sigh, pulling his glass away as soon as he hears the liquid stop pouring. He doesn’t even look before taking a healthy swig of the drink.
Then, immediately, he spits it out.
That had to be one of the worst, most vile things that had ever managed to touch his taste buds. It was like that heinous cotton candy his mother once bought him, but also soaked in syrup.
Young Alastor hated every bite, but he knew cotton candy hadn’t been cheap and she’d bought it for him. He ate it all just to see the smile on her face.
He didn’t need to finish this drink, though. Instead, he whips around on the stool, eyes dialed, with black smoke seeping out of him. He leans over the counter, body beginning to stretch. “Husker, what the fuc-”
Alastor immediately cuts himself off when he comes face to face with someone that isn’t Husker. Instead, his entire view is filled by the cheeky, grinning face of the so-called king of hell.
Lucifer lets out a small chuckle, obviously amused, and then has the audacity to burst out laughing. Alastor’s ears flatten in annoyance as he works to compose himself, trying to keep his smile as neutral as possible. He sits back down in his chair, hiding a wince.
“Yes, yes,” Alastor begins, rolling his eyes as he sets the glass of disgusting sugar mixture on the counter with some force. “Ha ha.”
“Did you forget that everyone else is out on some bonding fun time thing?” Lucifer asks, waving one of his hands absentmindedly. It’s clear, just like Alastor, Lucifer also doesn’t remember what activity Charlie had managed to dream up. Both of them were the same amount of uninterested as when she’d explained it last night.
Alastor had opted to stay at the hotel, drink his fill, and be alone for a while. He should have accounted for the blond idiot in front of him. Both of them spent most of their time alone in their respective rooms, so with the hotel empty, both began to wander.
Alastor doesn’t bother answering Lucifer’s inane question. After all, Alastor did forget and he isn’t going to openly admit that. Instead, he stands up and walks around the bar, standing next to Lucifer.
“What are you doing?” Lucifer asks suspiciously, shuffling a little farther away from Alastor as he approaches.
Alastor reaches out, invading Lucifer’s personal space, as he grabs a new glass from across the counter then places it in the small fridge below the counter. “I am making an actual drink,” Alastor states.
“This is an actual drink!” Lucifer argues back, picking up the concoction that Alastor discarded and drinking the rest in one gulp.
“Just because you can put things together in a glass, doesn’t make it a drink.” Alastor says back, continuing to grab various ingredients.
“Actually, I would argue that’s exactly what makes something a drink. It’s just got to be edible, which this is.” Lucifer responds, shaking the now empty glass in Alastor’s face. “Well, was.”
Alastor bats Lucifer’s arm away, the small king apparently preferring to actively be a hindrance.
“What was your drink called then?” Alastor asks. “Diabetes in a glass?”
“Wow, hilarious. What’s your drink called then? Rotting flesh?” Lucifer shoots back.
“Hmm, no. I eat flesh, I don’t drink it." Alastor has just finished grabbing everything required, rolling up his sleeves to get to work. "I am making something called a Sazerac.”
“A saz-a-what?” Lucifer asks, leaning over the ingredients to get a better look and get in the way at the same time.
“Sazerac,” Alastor responds, fetching the glass he’d placed in the mini fridge now that it has had a bit of time to chill. Ideally, he would let it chill longer, but dealing with this incessant chatter was becoming too much. He would make his drink and leave.
Surprisingly, Lucifer goes quiet and seems to just observe Alastor as he finishes making his drink.
“There’s sugar in your drink.” Lucifer comments out of what feels like nowhere to Alastor. He’d gotten lost in the familiarity of making his favorite cocktail.
“I do not despise the ingredient all together, I just appreciate an appropriate amount of sweetness.”
“Can you make me one? A Sazerac?” Lucifer asks, looking up at Alastor with an expression that could only be categorized as pure curiosity, a want to learn.
Alastor’s initial reaction is to immediately say no, and simply disappear in the shadows, going back to his room. However, the borderline pathetic look on Lucifer’s face stops him. Instead, he just fills another glass with ice and puts it in the fridge, beginning to make another drink.
Lucifer walks around the bar, sitting on a stool. Once Alastor has finished both drinks, he joins Lucifer, sitting next to him. He passes Lucifer one of the drinks, and Lucifer takes it, clinking their glasses together.
Alastor takes a sip of his drink, watching as Lucifer hesitates, but does the same.
“Wow!” Lucifer says, coughing a bit. “That is strong. Better be careful with this and fire breathing.”
“It definitely isn’t a drink for the faint of heart,” Alastor agrees, watching as Lucifer takes another sip.
“It is good though,” Lucifer admits. “Citrus, vanilla, pepper… an entire entree.”
“The history of this drink is just as rich.” Alastor begins, unable to stop himself. Lucifer seems to have a good palette and Alastor loves any excuse to talk.
“Oh?” Lucifer asks, taking the bite, and another drink.
Alastor rests his chin on his hands, staring off in front of him. If he focuses hard enough, he's transported back to a speakeasy he went to as a young adult. He was in his early 20's, just starting to really put himself out into the world. He remembered being quite excited to order the famous drink.
"Growing up, I was required to educate myself for the most part. I found history quite fascinating. Particularly of those who made something of themselves and were like me. I'd read about a man named Antoine Peychaud. He was an apothecary that invented this drink. In New Orleans no less! A Sazerac is considered one of, if not the first cocktail. Its very existence seeped into the foundation of the city. Even throughout prohibition, New Orleans had plenty of liquor to go around. One could argue, this drink changed the world. Thanks to an immigrant of color."
“Prohobition? Immigrant?” Lucifer asks.
Alastor hums, he’d momentarily forgotten he was speaking to the king of hell and not just some other sinner. Choosing to ignore the latter, as that is a much deeper conversation he does not want to have at this moment, Alastor only addresses the former. “While I was alive, there was a law passed that outlawed the sale and manufacturing of alcohol where I lived. It was called prohibition."
“Alcohol was made illegal?” Lucifer asks, confused. “That’s really dumb. It's just dangerous if you drink too much and can be addivtice, but banning it for everyone doesn’t solve anything.”
It startles Alastor how Lucifer's voice rose; anger laced through the words. Lucifer clearly seems frustrated by this knowledge. His eyes even flash crimson for a moment. It’s the first time Alastor sees Lucifer for what he was, or is. The angel cast from Heaven for giving humans free will.
“It didn’t last, from what I understand. It ended not long after I died.” Alastor explains, and realizes he finished his drink. He glances and sees Lucifer has finished his too.
“Another?” Alastor asks, motioning to the empty glass.
“Oh! Yes, but my turn and I won’t make another, um, fluffyfluffunicorn,” Lucifer says, muttering a bit at the end, as he hops off the stool and walks around the bar.
“A what?” Alastor asks, though he had heard perfectly fine. He just wanted to hear Lucifer say the ridiculous name of that shot of pure sugar from earlier.
“I call it a Fluffy Fluff Unicorn.” He states, louder. As if proud of it. “It’s one of my favorites, but after having the Sazerac, I think I’ve got a better idea of something you may like.”
Alastor watches as Lucifer shuffles around the bar, the counter becoming a mess in the process. It was fascinating to watch happen, but unsurprising given the state of his room.
Lucifer sets a glass down on the counter in front of him. It looks like poison, a bright green color with a red cherry garnish. Alastor picks the glass up, examining the drink closer. It’s in a tall glass filled with ice cubes.
Alastor doesn't hesitate at all, unlike the king earlier, and takes a swig. It’s tart, like a sour apple, but is undercut by the taste of brown sugar. It reminds him of an apple pie. Still a bit too sweet for his taste, but not bad.
“That is more acceptable.” Alastor admits, and watches as Lucifer grins at the praise.
Lucifer starts to make his own drink then, “I call it Piece of Pie. Usually, I find green apples too sour, but they’re my preferred type for pies. Really the only time I prefer green over red. I thought you may like the touch of green.”
Alastor stares at the smaller man, taking in what just happened. Lucifer had made him something, and not just anything, something he did taking Alastor’s preferences into account.
The thought makes his insides twist around in ways he doesn’t want to process. Something that he was feeling all too much at this hotel. From Charlie’s heartfelt speeches to Angel’s emotional moments of self reflection and realization. Every encounter with the others at this hotel had begun to infect him.
No. Pushing the confusing feelings away, he seizes the opportunity instead. At this point, they were both at least a couple drinks in. Lucifer’s defenses seemed down.
“What do you say to a little game? We each tell the other a secret, no lying. If you do not wish to share a secret, you can take a drink.”
Lucifer pauses mid-drink. It’s almost as if Alastor can see the wheels turning in the king’s head. Trying to decide if this is a gamble he should take. If he was smart, he would say no.
“Sure.” Lucifer says, grinning at him. Alastor’s own smile widens. Lucifer’s sin is his pride, after all.
“I will start.” Alastor states in a move to disarm Lucifer further. “I am the one who threw out those missing leftovers. I didn’t like the smell.” Alastor admits.
“You’re the one who tossed out the fluffy tall one’s food?” Lucifer asks, obviously rhetorical. “He was really upset about that.”
Alastor recalls. Angel went on and on about having such a long day and was really looking forward to some food from this fancy restaurant a client had taken him to. To get Angel to stop talking about it, Alastor made dinner for everyone that night. It's the only chore of the hotel that actually enjoys doing. Some of the residents really need their palettes expanded. Besides, Alastor's ma's recipes were much better than what the erotic picture show star was going to eat.
“Wait, is that why you made dinner that night?” Lucifer asks quickly, connecting more dots than Alastor thought possible.
“It’s your turn to admit something, not mine,” Alastor replies, taking another drink.
Lucifer pouts some, scrunching up his nose and looking off into the distance, as if in thought. Alastor finds himself transfixed by such adorable, no not that, entertaining reactions.
Lucifer’s face lights up, obviously thinking of a secret, then he frowns. “Ugh, well, one time I did fill an entire pool with rubber ducks to see if I could swim through them. And, before you ask, it didn’t go well.”
This secret doesn’t surprise Alastor at all, but it does cause him to burst out laughing. “Why would you think that would go well?”
“It’s your turn to admit something, not mine.” Lucifer parrots right back to Alastor, wiggling his eyebrows and leaning closer, their shoulders pressed together.
The drinks must be getting to Alastor’s head a bit, because he actually found Lucifer’s response funny. He should put more distance between them, this situation reminding him a bit too much of a similar position with Vox, but he doesn't. He just needs to get on with this, steer the the conversations toward more personal questions, and learn something useful.
“Once, as a child, I stole groceries from the store and lied to my Ma about where I got them.” Alastor admits, his smile softening. He couldn’t help it, not when thinking about his Ma. “I never told her the truth.”
Their faces are mere inches apart now and Alastor watches as Lucifer opens his mouth a bit, as if to ask more questions, but he stops himself. Instead, Lucifer’s eyes meet Alastor’s and he sighs, looking downward.
“I miss Lilith, but I don’t know what I want the two of us to be if she ever comes back. She’s been gone so long. Maybe there is a good reason, but I still feel hurt.” Lucifer says, voice becoming softer, and he looks up at Alastor with such a depressing look.
A thought comes to Alastor unbidden. He doesn't like Lucifer looking sad. It looks wrong. Lucifer's smile, whether sharp and pointed at Alastor, or soft directed at Charlie was better. Smiles look better on everyone, though, he reasons with himself. Besides, now they are getting somewhere. He just needs to push a bit more.
“I’ve never kissed anyone.” Alastor states. He isn’t ashamed of this, but it’s not knowledge he usually shares. He told himself that he just needed to open up a bit more and then Lucifer would slip and share something important. Perhaps the drinks were getting to him though. He finds himself staring at Lucifer's lips. He wants to bite them.
“Like ever, ever? Or just not here, in hell?” Lucifer asks, surprised.
“Ever,” Alastor confirms. “I’ve never felt the need or desire to, really. Sometimes I wonder about it.”
Lucifer looks dumbfounded for a moment, his gaze flicks from Alastor’s eyes to Alastor’s lips. “Well I bet there are plenty out there willing to kiss the radio demon.”
“I suppose, but there are very few I would be willing to partake in such acts with.” Alastor says, leaning closer to Lucifer.
Alastor isn’t sure which of them closes the distance between them first, but suddenly, Lucifer’s lips are on his. A gentleman of his word, he had told Lucifer the truth, he’d never kissed anyone. Lucifer clearly had.
Alastor's lips are still at first, but Lucifer pushes against his and creates a rhythm of push and pull that Alastor begins to match. The kiss is beginning to quicken. A hunger fills Alastor and he pushes closer, their teeth clacking together. Lucifer hisses into the kiss, seeming to refuse to back down and bites at Alastor's lip with surprising force.
“Shit,” Lucifer states, pulling back. “Sorry, I got carried away. We should stop.”
Alastor is overwhelmed with emotions all fighting for the spotlight, causing his expression to remain neutral, a small smile. The loss of the pressure, the ferocity, he immediately misses it and is both ashamed and surprised in equal measure by this fact. Absent-mindedly, he lifts his hand to wipe at his lip. With a bite that forceful, there was sure to be some blood.
But there isn’t, his hand comes back dry.
Lucifer is watching his every movement like a hawk, obviously nervous for how Alastor may react. “I, uh, I can’t actually cause you harm. Well, not just you, any sinner. Part of my punishment.”
Now that was information Alastor could use.
“Interesting,” Alastor notes, his muddled thoughts honing in on this new knowledge as a sort of anchor, pushing all thoughts on the kiss to the back of his mind. He goes quiet, flipping through various ideas of how he could potentially use this information to his advantage. He must've been silent for far too long, because Lucifer is still looking at him with concern written all over this face.
Instead of confronting whatever Lucifer was about to say, Alastor simply lets his shadows consume him, taking him back to his room, leaving Lucifer alone at the bar.