Chapter Text
In hell, fear is a constant companion even for the most powerful of creatures. You only had to look at Lucifer to see that. Fear stalked the hallways like a ravenous monster, ready to consume anyone who stuck their heads out long enough to be consumed by it.
What they feared could differ - a proprietor could fear retaliation for perceived slights, an overlord could fear someone who could end their afterlives permanently or worse, depose them and humiliate them. For Lucifer, the source of fear was less for himself and far more for his daughter. Given Charlie's ability to scrounge up trouble in heaven and hell respectively, it wasn't a paranoid one. Whether it was the holy retribution, a demon wanting to make a name for themselves or someone who saw a pretty young woman ripe for picking like forbidden fruit, this was not unfounded fear.
Charlie had some things going for her in the protection department other than her father figures; she had some 'semi-pure' angelic power and a lover who'd spear anyone who looked at her funny but given her self appointed mission, the girl did like to put herself in the firing line.
Case in point, this morning's argument:
Charlie had arranged for a meeting with the young seraphim Emily, their first in almost a year. Though they’d exchanged messages since, the last meeting had been a hushed call by looking glass, explaining that Sir Pentious had redeemed his soul in an act of self sacrifice and that the heavens were all a tizzy about it. No one outside of the holy ranks were supposed to know, but she had been probing around in a spectacular act of rebellion that was likely to land the little angel a spot in their unholy realm should it come to light.
Lucifer didn't want her to go.
There was no telling what heaven had been doing all this time other than getting their underwear in knots and Charlie and Vaggie alone were not going to be a match for a surprise attack. Of course, Lucifer himself would have liked to go but that brought up another issue: no one save for the hotel residents (easily cowed) and Rosie (respectful) had knowledge of hell's newest royal arrival currently busy growing inside him.
This needed to be rectified but Alastor would be a liar if he said he was comfortable with the announcement even as he’d been writing it. Lucifer was feeling more or less like himself (hormonal fits not withstanding) and more than able to handle himself in a fight, but the preference would be to let the child grow undisturbed for as long as possible. With the potential heavenly target on Lucifer's back and Alastor not exactly the most beloved of hell's denizens, the potential for attacks was high.
"Em believes in redemption," Charlie pointed out, all stubborn lips and flailing arms. "She's not going to risk everything with a meeting unless she thinks it's important. Why would she stab me in the back now?"
"You don't know what's happened in the last year," Lucifer trailed after her, his excellent point not diminished by the overgrown hooded sweatshirt in the shape of a duck. What did he do to deserve to fall in love with such a ridiculous creature? (Oh, yes, well, you had him there, it was still worth it!) "It's usually when you can't see the knife that it's plunged into your back."
"And if I ignore her pleas, then what does that make me?" That girl's heart was three times the size it ought to be and twice as foolish. "If she's risked banishment to talk to me, the least I can do is show up and be willing to listen."
"It's dangerous," Lucifer said. "Delay it another..." He reached down to hold his stomach, then shrugged. "Maybe four months? Just until I can go with you without endangering...Daisy?"
"Veto," Alastor interjected. Baby names were the latest issue between them but thankfully, a right to veto remained.
"Daisy's pretty," Lucifer argued. “You like flowers, I like flowers.”
"It's also strongly associated with the virgin mother, something of which you are neither." Alastor pointed out. "Your New Testament knowledge remains lacking."
"Never been a fan of sequels," Lucifer replied, but his face indicated he was thoroughly soured on the idea of ‘Daisy’. "The point is, in a few months, I can safely go with Charlie and if something happens, I can get us out of there."
"I'll attend with her." They both turned to look at him as if this hadn't crossed either of their minds. Yes, his ability to slay the head of the executioners may be in question but this was a young seraphim with a soft temperament. The Radio Demon was not to be coddled nor underestimated, especially in his own home. "And I'm sure if something happens, you'll be able to see me from here and come do your dashing rescue routine if I do end up on death’s door."
"Are you sure?" Charlie asked. "While I know you, Emily doesn't and - oh, what about Emily? Emily's a cute name."
"Nothing angelic," Lucifer refused. Thus far, they were on nothing angelic, biblical or after anyone in particular. This had made finding a suitable name they both liked to be an increasing challenge. "And I think Alastor going is a great idea. There's all sorts of people in hell and not everyone wants the golden ticket, right?"
"Not to mention I'm quite the people person!" Alastor smiled brightly. "A kind word and a smile can do wonders for budding relationships, providing you don't call them a bell hop."
"Or insult their height," Lucifer glowered. Or at least attempted to, the outfit did take something away from that. "Honey, redemption isn't any more one size fits all than hell is. Hell will never be completely empty and maybe that's okay. People should get the choice on whether they want redemption, free will in action, that's the dream, isn't it?"
"Sure, Dad." Charlie did still sound unsure, but they could fix that. “I hope Emily’s okay. I don’t want her to get in trouble for this, free will or not.”
The entire exchange could have become more heated, but the disagreement seemed to dissipate as quickly as it started. Almost immediately, they went back to talking about how the weather had been nicer (see: Lucifer having a better handle on his emotional state, well, as good as he ever did) and considering starting some sort of rambling activity in the hills outside the city.
Alastor had long come to the conclusion he’d misread their dynamic from the beginning. At first, he’d assumed a distant monarch father figure and a young girl desperate for fatherly guidance. That hadn’t lasted long once he’d actually spent any time around their relationship in person: if anyone was looking for approval, it was Lucifer from Charlie. While the details of her removal by her mother had remained elusive, there was always a quiet desperation to Lucifer’s interactions with her. One that spoke of wanting to meet her approval as her father, one that spoke of wanting her attention and in no small part, her love.
As if there was any doubt he had it. Charlie gave love so freely that you’d think she ran on it like fuel or food.
Case in point, the baby naming book that arrived on his desk later that afternoon. It was thoughtful in a way that made him feel a little itchy, like an ill-fitting suit but Alastor bore her affection with appropriate gratitude. He may be a cannibalistic serial killer procreating with the literal devil but his mother had instilled him with good manners.
Admittedly, Alastor’s experience with family was limited. His mother and for a brief but important time in his youth, his grandmother had been the only family he’d had. The man who had fathered him had never laid eyes on him, the relationship he’d had with Alastor’s mother was not a sustainable one given the difference in their backgrounds, cultures and skin colour. Of course, his mother had married but the man had never been his father and they both knew it. There was no love lost there.
And therein lay the source of Alastor’s current most pressing anxiety: he’d had a fire and brimstone of a temper long before experiencing it up close and personally, but he knew children were learning how to be people from scratch. It would require more patience than he was known for, biting down his urge for rage and ruin and not allowing heated arguments to cause lasting fractures. In short, he hadn’t wanted to be either of his father figures: the absent shadowy figure (“Alright, absent unknown figure, stop spreading your jaws and go make sure Lucifer hasn’t decided to try rambling when he’s starting to lose the ability to walk in favour of waddling!”) nor the volatile man who had earned his pride of place as the first body he’d ever disposed of.
Even if he and Lucifer couldn’t piece together a good father figure between them, Alastor had no doubts on the Lucifer front: now that he was relatively sure their daughter was at least vaguely conscious during her daily dance recitals, he’d taken to baby taking at her, asking for her opinions and promising a variety of things from how to dance properly (which Alastor could and would supervise) to how to ‘Capital C create’ which seemed premature at best.
The point was, Lucifer was attached, engaged and in love.
If you’d asked Alastor a year ago if he would ever love anything again, he’d have thought you were mad. Inconvenient and messy business, love, it caused all sorts of problems and he’d fallen hook, line and sinker. It was a spectacularly stupid idea to fall for the devil, but perhaps even more stupid to fall for Lucifer. Embarrassing at best. If you wanted to add in the fact he spent twenty minutes this morning watching his stomach move while their daughter had apparently developed some hiccups then he was too far gone for sense or reason.
No, as much as he was aware of his own ridiculous and sentimental behaviours about this whole thing, Alastor could be practical! This was hell and Lucifer had only a vague knowledge of its politics these days. These things would be up to him to impart, likely also cooking should the appetite for hell’s most sustainable meat source follow her into solid foods. Lucifer could teach her how to wield angelic grace but he could teach her how to function in hell and if need be, how to use her teeth when they came in.
The thought alleviated some of Alastor's concerns: if he could be practical, he could also have some hope of controlling his own temper.
The sounds of the chanting music caught Alastor’s attention as Lucifer wandered down towards the kitchen.
“– Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer.”
Pop!
“Yes, I know, I’m just getting a snack and then I’ll text them, you’re not a reminder service – Frances? Are you a Frances?” Lucifer cooed as he slipped out of sight through the doors.
“Frances is a patron saint of cars!” Alastor called down after him.
The only response he got was a muffled, “For fuck sake! Why is everyone a saint?”
Alastor couldn’t help but cackle at that, which is where Charlie found him only moments later. Apparently, in a spectacular show of sense, she’d decided to meet Emily in the now defunct embassy rather than have her come to the hotel. Perhaps there was hope for the girl yet .There were still a few kinks to be worked out, but in a few nights, they’d let a little angel get her first first and likely not last taste of hell.
By the time Alastor left Charlie to her inspirational song of the day and retired, Lucifer had perched himself on the bed with his infernal communication contraption that masqueraded itself as a phone.
“Do not point that anywhere near me,” Alastor reminded him.
While he’d taken every precaution to remove anything vaguely VoxTech related and had Angel’s more technologically inclined friend take a look at it, the device in their bed made him uneasy. It made him want to stay dressed, as if his coat and shirt were a suit of armour against an intrusion on their bedroom life, but he refused to let an old hack get to him like that. “Have you corrected the little one on the names of the sins?”
“What?” Lucifer looked up briefly. “Well, she got the important ones, no, that’s shitty to Levi, I should mention Levi, and probably Bel, you know, maybe I’m just feeling a little put out about Mammon and the knock off theme park, so yeah, okay, listen, Patricia? Nooo, that’s too close to St. Patrick and he’s a cunt. At this point, you’re going to be Princess Baby Girl.”
“Sounds like someone in Angel’s line of work,” Alastor replied, pushing himself up to join Lucifer on the bed.
Lucifer groaned and scrunched up his face. “Nope, no, no, no, she is getting a name, no adult industry career paths. If she’s anything like you, she won’t want her face on any screen anyway.”
“We can only hope,” Alastor preened. Social media narcissism was a plague in hell, after all.
A brief glance at the screen made it look as if Lucifer were in the ‘group chat’ so chances were good that Lucifer was in fact disclosing the pregnancy in preparation for announcing it here. Queen Bee was likely Beelzebub, Lucifer had more than once said that if Alastor hadn’t been so wildly proud of his actions then Gluttony might be the sin he embodied most, then Ozzie….that was Asmodeous, he’d seen the branding for Lust more than once in Angel’s things, and the last one he could see responding was Levi (likely Leviathan, which if memory served, embodied envy).
“I take it you want the broadcast to go ahead,” Alastor said, trying to taper down any of his own feelings on that. “Lest someone hear it from a hellborn and steal the scoop.”
“I’m telling them to stow it till after,” Lucifer said, before glancing up at Alastor. “Which means Mammon’s going to say something right away, so yeah, I think it’s time, whether I like it or not it’s probably time, she wants to be rocked to sleep and I’m tired of walking the halls, I want to get outside and-”
“The lights are much brighter there,”
Pop!
“You can forget all your troubles,"
Pop!
“Forget all your cares so go downtown!”
“Exactly,” Lucifer merely gestured vaguely towards his stomach. “The last thing I want is to go full shut in and I want people to know she’s not some dirty little secret either, I don’t want people thinking I’m ashamed of her.”
It would be a lie to say the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Their relationship had no formal announcement but that didn’t mean a few gossip rags hadn’t picked up on it. Lucifer was highly tactile and he liked to hold hands, to lean on him when they walked and generally be in the personal space of someone who was well known for not approving of intrusions on his personal space.
The nature of outing his current condition meant to a certain degree they would have to make their own relationship public. Not that Alastor wanted to be a dirty little secret either, but he did not want to be seen as merely an extension of Lucifer nor their child. There was a standing to his position that he’d worked hard for and there was a likely chance that involvement with Lucifer would put their relationship on a public stage to be judged – not that he cared for their judgments, but it felt like losing something nonetheless. It was always going to be tricky but he didn't have to like it.
Eventually, Alastor just said. “Morning broadcast, then.”
Lucifer nodded. “Maybe before the screams so people don’t have burst ear drums when they hear about her?”
That at least brought a brighter smile to his face. “I make no promises!”