Chapter Text
“I don’t know,” you hedge. “It’s a little much.”
“You can say it’s ugly,” Angel reassures you with a smirk.
“No, it’s definitely not!” you scramble to reassure Charlie, who looks absolutely devastated as she hugs the bright yellow ballgown - a puffy, princess-like thing of tulle and satin that you’re pretty sure you’ve seen in a Disney movie once - close to her chest. “It’s beautiful, just not for me.”
“Oh, well.” She shrugs off her disappointment and disappears into the racks once more.
“We probably shoulda brought Smiles,” Angel muses. “He’s got a good eye for this kinda thing.”
“Yeah, but I rarely ever get to surprise him.” You watch as Charlie filters through a more modern section, her eyebrows pinched together in concentration. “I don’t think he’s ever seen me in anything but jeans and slacks.”
“Not that you don’t fill out a good pair of jeans well.” Angel spins you around in a mock-twirl to admire the plain denim jeans you’re currently wearing. “But yeah, the occasion calls for somethin’ a little fancier.”
“Ooh!” Charlie snatches another dress off the rack and displays it for your consideration. “Thoughts?”
“Actually, that’s not bad,” you muse as you examine the plain black gown with dark gray beading.
“Oh, fuck, no!” Angel swoops in, snatching the gown out of Charlie’s hands. “Jersey’s pretty, but even she ain’t pullin’ that one off! She’ll look like she’s wearin’ a black burlap sack!”
As Angel goes to return the dress, you resign yourself to wandering through the aisles and squinting at the selections for anything that might catch your eye.
“How’s it going in here?” Rosie pokes her head through the gauzy curtain separating the rest of the shop from her more exclusive collection that she’s letting the three of you peruse in preparation for the masquerade celebration you’re planning for the newly reopened Hazbin Hotel to announce its presence to the upper echelons of Hell.
“Not great,” Charlie admits before you can quickly lie and say it’s going fine. “We’ve got outfits for me and Angel, but we still can’t find something for her.”
“Oh, is that all?” Rosie briefly eyes you before nodding after a beat, seemingly making a decision. “I got just the thing. This way, hon.”
“You don’t need to go to any extremes,” you sigh wearily as she takes your elbow to usher you into another aisle. “I’ll take the plain one, it’s not a big deal-”
“Hey.” Rosie grasps your shoulders firmly, forcing you to look up at her face. “You’ve never let me dress you up before, this is a real special occasion.” She taps the end of your nose affectionately with a long fingernail the way Alastor often does. “Let me go all out just this once.” She ruffles your hair fondly before turning to snatch a hanger off a rack. “What about this one?”
“I really don’t think-” Your breath catches in your throat when you register the stunning burgundy dress she’s holding. “Oh, wow.”
“What’d I tell ya?” Rosie is grinning eagerly now. “Do I know my clients or what?”
“What is it?” Charlie peeks around the edge of the aisle and her eyes widen. “That’s gorgeous!”
“Holy shit, yes, that’s the one!” Angel grabs your shoulders from behind, yanking you around to face him. “Do not say ‘no’ to this one, Jersey, or I will never forgive you!”
“I’m not saying ‘no,’” you relent, tentatively running your fingers over the elaborate golden beadwork on the dress’s bodice. “But this is so beautiful, Rosie, I just don’t think I can pull it off and-”
“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you can. And when else are you gonna get a chance to make Alastor speechless for once?” she retorts, cutting off your feeble protest as she shoves the dress into your arms. “Well? Go on, try it on!” She ushers you behind her elaborate folding screen and you grudgingly change out of your T-shirt and jeans to slip into the satiny dress instead.
When you step out from behind the folding screen, all three of their mouths fall open.
“Wow, you look amazing,” Charlie gushes. “And with the mask Dad designed for you, your outfit’s going to be perfect! Oh, I need to tell him to add some red to it!” She whips out her phone to begin texting her father frantically.
“What if we added a rose on the side, too?” Angel muses as he peers over Charlie’s shoulder at her phone. “Bring out some of that color left in Jersey’s face while we’re at it.”
“Good idea!” Charlie taps out another message to Lucifer, beaming at whatever response he must have sent her in return.
“Told you,” Rosie says smugly as she adjusts a wrinkle in your sleeve, drawing your attention back to her. “You look perfect, honey. Al’s gonna love it.”
“You sure?” you fret anxiously. “It’s not too much or - I don’t know, not enough for him or-?”
“Sweetheart, you could be wearing a paper bag and you’d be enough for him.” Rosie folds you into a tight embrace, squeezing you briefly before releasing you again. “Now go change back and let me wrap this up for you, and no, I ain’t taking ‘no’ as an answer. This is the dress for you, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.” You stand on your toes to peck Rosie’s cheek, making her smile brightly back at you with delight. “Thanks, Rosie, you’re the best.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” She winks back at you and you grin as you duck behind the folding screen to change back into your street clothes.
“And…done.” Lucifer adjusts the mask carefully on your face before stepping back to admire his artwork. “Fits like a glove - well, I mean, you don’t really have gloves with this outfit, but-”
“I get it.” You give him a grateful smile all the same. You’ve strangely grown fond of the King of Hell over the past several weeks despite how shy and awkward he can still be sometimes; he reminds you too much of his daughter not to automatically like him. “Thank you, Lucifer. I don’t think I could’ve found anything as beautiful as this in any store.”
Lucifer flushes slightly at the praise, a hint of gold sparkling in his rosy cheeks as he peeks at Charlie’s proud, smiling face beside him before shrugging modestly.
“It’s nothing. I like creating stuff, and this was a fun exercise.” He tweaks a crooked antler on the side of your mask, clearly intent on fussing over you as much as he’s able to, so you tilt your head away with a smile to indicate that you’re done. “Okay, I can take a hint, good to go. You’re up next, Char-Char - let’s get you looking perfect for your girlfriend.”
Charlie blushes bright pink, but obediently takes your seat the moment you abandon it.
“C’mon, let’s head down.” Angel extends a gloved hand toward you and loops his arm around yours the moment you take it. He’s clad in a sparkling rose-pink dress that pushes up his chest fluff, the upper half of his face obscured by an equally pink, glittery mask that resembles a spider’s web. “You look gorgeous,” he says sincerely as the two of you step into the hallway, you wobbling ever-so-slightly on your maroon heels.
“So do you, Brooklyn.” You elbow him affectionately in the side, making him grin cheekily back at you as his darker eye winks.
“I always do, doll-face.”
A door opening down the hall draws both of your attention as Husk steps out of his room, adjusting the pink cuffs of his tuxedo before he looks up and catches sight of you and Angel, his pupils blowing wide in surprise.
“Guess that explains why Charlie insisted on pink instead of red for me tonight,” he says dryly after a beat, but his voice sounds suddenly threadier than usual, and you realize suddenly that he’s staring blatantly at Angel.
“Lookin’ good, Whiskers,” Angel purrs appreciatively, waggling his eyebrows, and you squirm out of his hold.
“Okay, I’m gonna head down and find Alastor. You two have fun tonight!”
You head down the hallway, keenly aware of the tension stretched thin like a rubber band behind you as you round the corner and make your way to the staircase leading down to the hotel’s main foyer. For the first time, it’s completely packed with demons milling about in finery like you’ve never seen before - Lucifer really had pulled some strings, is that Asmodeus himself you see in the corner? - and you have to squint before you finally catch sight of the one sinner you’re looking for.
Alastor is in the middle of an animated, excited conversation with Rosie - because of course the two of them in a room together outright screams chaotic friendship - but the moment Rosie spots you on the steps, she winks subtly in your direction and seemingly makes an excuse to slip away as you descend the staircase to make your way across the foyer.
You can see the immediate change in Alastor once he’s left to his own devices without Rosie to distract him; his crimson eyes - only partially obscured by the pitch-black mask that stands as a direct contrast to his bright red hair and grayish skin - become busy with darting over the crowd over and over as he leans casually back against the wall, the picture of calm apart from the anxious, impatient smile threatening to split his face in two with how thinly and tightly it’s stretched.
“Looking for someone in particular?” you tease once you reach him.
“As it happens, I am,” he says distractedly, not even bothering to look down at you. “My partner said she’d be down in a few moments.”
“I think this mask is doing too good a job if even you couldn’t recognize me,” you joke, and Alastor’s eyes snap down to you when he finally realizes who’s in front of him, his gaze wide and startled over his smile.
“Aren’t you quite the vision, my dear!” He immediately takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to brush a kiss over your knuckles. “Give us a spin, let me get a good look at you.”
Before you know it, he nudges you into a clumsy spin before you promptly trip over your own feet, but he catches you smoothly and sets you upright again.
“Simply breathtaking.” He ducks to kiss your forehead right above the ruby inlaid in the center of your mask, which makes you smile despite yourself. “Rosie truly outdid herself. Remind me to thank her when I find her in this crowd again - I never get to see you in anything but those plain, dull clothes of yours.”
“That was kind of the idea.” You smooth your dress out self-consciously. “But credit where credit’s due, the mask was all Lucifer.”
“Ah.” Alastor’s nose wrinkles slightly; he and Lucifer are still nowhere near friendly, but they’ve established something of an icy cordiality with each other that you’ve decided you’ll take as a win. “In that case, I suppose I owe His Majesty some thanks as well.” He reaches up to trace his thumb over one of the branching antlers near your temple. “Was this his idea?”
“No, it was mine.” You tilt your head into his touch instinctively, seeking out the warmth radiating from his palm. “I wanted something from you in the design.”
“You’ll have the real thing on your arm all night anyway, but consider me flattered all the same.” Alastor’s smile softens, his fingers moving to run appreciatively over the loose tendrils of your styled hair and smooth any flyaways out of your face for you. “You really do look beautiful, my love.”
“Thanks.” You stand on your toes to kiss one upturned corner of his mouth. “You clean up alright, too.”
“Just alright?” He pulls a dramatic pout somehow without losing his smile.
“More than alright,” you amend with a fond eye-roll. “How that mask fits all that ego behind it is beyond me, though.”
“We’re in Hell, darling.” Alastor winks at you cheekily. “A great deal of magic is involved.” He offers you his arm. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”
Grinning, you slide your hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I’ll do my best not to step on your feet.”
At some point, your meager dancing skills become nowhere near enough to keep up with Alastor, so you excuse yourself to the corner bar where you see Lucifer not-so-subtly hiding from the rest of the crowd.
“Not your scene?” You settle on the barstool beside him.
“Is anything social ever?” He gives you an awkward half-smile, the upper half of his face obscured by a pure white swan-shaped mask. “I’m surprised your guy’s let you off his arm tonight.”
“He knows he’s got me outclassed when it comes to dancing and mingling, and I needed a few minutes,” you dismiss, watching as Alastor loops Charlie into something vaguely resembling a foxtrot if you squint at them; in reality, they’re just flailing around hard enough to make the princess giggle madly despite Alastor’s failed attempts to guide her through the proper steps. From a corner, you can see Vaggie watching her partner twirl around the dance floor with a soft, fond smile on her face even as Cherri Bomb cheerfully carries a conversation with her.
“I used to do that with Charlie when she was little,” Lucifer says wistfully, drawing your attention back to him. “Swing her around our living room, pretend we were dancing. She thought it was the funniest thing in the world.” He wrinkles his nose abruptly. “Lilith never liked it - said it wasn’t befitting for a king and a princess.”
“No offense to your wife and all due respect to the Queen, but fuck whatever she thought as long as it made you and Charlie happy,” you dismiss, and Lucifer cracks a feeble smile as he self-consciously twists the plain gold wedding band on his left ring finger.
“Thanks.”
The two of you fall into an equally pensive silence, but after a beat, you hesitate and then lean sideways to tentatively nudge your shoulder against Lucifer’s.
“Alastor isn’t actually trying to take your place with her. You know that, right? He just likes being a dick about it sometimes ‘cause he knows it bugs you.”
“Yeah, I figured that was all it was.” Lucifer shrugs. “And hey, he is better with her than I’ve been in a long time, I can admit that, it just…”
“It stings anyway?” you guess.
“Yeah.” Lucifer’s smile turns wry. “Silly, right?”
“Not really. I think it just means you’re a good dad in the ways that matter.” You gratefully accept a flute of champagne from the imp working behind the bar; Husk has taken the night off, and you can see him leading Angel through a dance of their own, stumbling and laughing together like you’ve never seen them before. “Might’ve been nice if my folks cared about me even half as much as you do for Charlie.”
Lucifer stares at you for a beat too long, his expression unreadable behind his mask, and you grin sheepishly.
“That was too much, wasn’t it? We can forget I said anything.”
“No, no, it’s just-” He clears his throat awkwardly. “That really sucks, kid. You deserve better.”
You shrug. “I’ve already got better.” You gesture vaguely to the room in front of you. “I don’t need anything else.” Impulsively, you drain your champagne flute and set it on the counter as you throw caution to the wind. “Hey, do you wanna dance?”
“What?” Lucifer gapes at you, wide-eyed behind his mask. “Are you trying to give Alastor an aneurysm?”
“Not with me, just in general.” You hop off the bar stool. “When’s the last time you actually let loose at a party?”
“Shit, I don’t know.” Lucifer scrunches his expression in thought. “Maybe in the sixteen-hundreds?”
“Oh, good, then you’re probably just as bad as I am at it.” You give up on waiting for the former archangel to accept and instead grab his hand, yanking him unceremoniously out of his seat and into the crowd even as he bristles indignantly; you wonder if his feathers are puffing up in whatever liminal space he shoves his wings into when they’re not visible.
“I’ll have you know I’ve got the fanciest feet in the whole Pride ring!”
“Yeah? Prove it!” You shove him impromptu toward Charlie and Alastor, the latter of whom releases the former so that she can grab her father’s hands and whirl him into a fast-paced dance that has them both laughing wildly.
“For a moment, you had me worried you were trying to make me jealous,” Alastor muses, his arms winding around your waist to tug you closer until you’re spinning with him, too, albeit at a much slower pace than the music calls for. “But that was a kind thing you did - His Majesty has been stewing all night in his own melancholia.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling a little too well,” you agree. “So I figured getting him out of his head for a little while might help.”
“I wonder who you picked that up from.” You smile when Alastor ducks to press a kiss to your forehead. “Shall we step out for some air?”
“Yeah.” You let him usher you through the crowd and out through the glass patio door at the back of the room.
The garden behind the hotel had been Lucifer’s idea - a nod to Eden, no doubt - but it had surprisingly been Vaggie’s suggestion to turn it into a full-on exercise for the group to tend to the soil together and grow plants together. You hadn’t actually expected anything to grow, but thanks to the ultraviolet rays Lucifer had installed into the top of the greenhouse - and a little bit of magic, you suspect - you can see a few tiny green seedlings sprouting from the soil where you had planted several citrus seeds that will eventually grow into a small grove of lemon and orange trees.
“Looks as though your trees are coming along quite nicely,” Alastor notes, following your line of sight as he dissolves the shadowy mask on his face with a lazy brush of his hand over his eyes; you should have guessed he had manifested it himself.
“Yeah, I didn’t think they would, either,” you admit.
“I never said that.” He reaches up to slip your mask off your face for you, nestling it into your hair for safekeeping and running his thumb over the light imprint it had left on your skin. “Must you always believe so little in yourself?”
You shrug. “That’s kind of my thing.”
“I think you need a new thing,” Alastor deadpans fondly even as he presses his lips to the space between your eyebrows.
“If I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that lately,” you muse absently, but then you realize Alastor is shifting his weight uncomfortably, practically bouncing on his feet as you eye him skeptically. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Nothing,” he lies blatantly.
“That-” You stand on your toes to press a kiss to one of the strained edges of his smile. “-doesn’t look like nothing to me. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
The endearment seems to ease Alastor’s nerves enough for him to take a deep breath slowly and release it.
“I can’t get anything past you, can I?” He hesitates before reaching up to withdraw something from the pocket of his maroon suit jacket. “I’ve, er - I’ve been meaning to give you this for some time now.”
When you look down at what he’s extending out to you, you realize he’s holding a small jewelry box meant to hold a ring.
“Marriage doesn’t mean much of anything down here,” he explains hurriedly when you lift an incredulous gaze back up to his face, immediately realizing what you’ve assumed. “And in any case, that’s not quite what I mean with this.”
“Then what is it?” you press, wishing your voice wouldn’t sound quite so wobbly.
“If it has to mean something, consider it a promise.” Alastor flips the box open to reveal a beautifully simple gold band with a single ruby in its center.
“A promise ring?” you echo skeptically. “It’s not like we need to prove what we are to anybody.”
“Will you just-?” Alastor presses the box into your hands unceremoniously, startling you. “Just listen to me.”
Obediently, you clutch the box to your chest, watching as he scrubs one hand slowly over his face to try and compose himself again.
“I was six years old when my father left.” The confession makes you stare at him, wide-eyed and stunned, as he continues, “That very same day, my mother went out and pawned her wedding ring to buy this one instead.” His crimson eyes drop to the ring box cradled carefully between your hands. “She left it to me when she died. She always wanted me to give it to someone I loved, and for many years after, I thought it would forever remain with me because why would I ever consider tying myself down to anyone?” He scoffs a bitter, humorless laugh. “Not to mention the question of who could ever love me in return.”
You open your mouth to protest, but then Alastor’s finger presses over your lips to wordlessly hush you.
“And then I met you.” He takes the box back from you, carefully plucking the ring out and dismissing the box in a wisp of darkness. “And for the first time in my existence, I found myself wanting love, but only if it was with you. Color me shocked and amazed when it turned out that you wanted it with me as well.”
“This is starting to sound an awful lot like marriage vows,” you joke feebly even as your eyes prickle dangerously at the corners.
“It can be if you’d like,” Alastor offers mildly, seemingly oblivious to your emotional distress. “I see no reason not to tie myself to the best thing that’s ever happened to me in every way possible.” He takes your left hand, hesitating at the last second with the ring hovering near the tip of your fourth finger. “You’re correct that we don’t need to prove to anyone else what we are to each other. But I’d like to give you some proof of what you are to me.”
Your throat is painfully tight even as you try to protest weakly, “But this was your mother’s, I can’t-”
“She meant it to be yours,” Alastor interrupts you not unkindly. “In any case, I have more than one purpose for giving this to you.” He brushes his thumb over the ruby on the ring, and you watch as a spark of green energy settles into the gem’s depths. “A fragment of my power,” he explains when you look back up at him, bemused. “To protect you if I ever can’t.”
Swallowing, you nod in permission at last and watch as Alastor slides the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly, the metal cool against your finger, and you can’t help but admire how the ruby glimmers with the emerald undertone of your partner’s power.
“Red suits you,” Alastor muses thoughtfully, and you surge up to kiss him firmly, your free hand bracing against the back of his neck as your nose bumps against his in your eagerness.
“I love you,” you breathe against his lips, and he melts into your touch, releasing your hand to wind his arms fully around your waist and draw you closer.
“I love you,” he whispers back, and you smile broadly into the kiss.
Charlie awkwardly clears her throat by the doorway leading out to the garden, and Alastor sighs long-sufferingly against your mouth before grudgingly pulling away.
“The point of us slipping away to the garden, my dear Charlie, was to ensure some priv-” He breaks off abruptly, and when you reluctantly tear your gaze off his face to look at Charlie, you find that her expression is uncharacteristically grave and worried.
“What’s wrong?” you demand, cold dread sinking in the pit of your stomach as Lucifer appears behind Charlie with a golden scroll clutched in his hands.
“Heaven wants a meeting with me and Charlie,” he says grimly. “First thing in the morning. I just got the summons.”
“Okay…?” You glance warily at Alastor, who shrugs back at you, equally nonplussed. “They probably want to talk about what happened with the Exorcist attack on the hotel. We figured that’d happen eventually.”
“But it’s not just that.” Charlie lifts her anxious gaze to meet yours. “The Seraphim asked specifically for you to join us.”
Alastor’s grip on you involuntarily tightens even as your heart stutters to a halt.
