Chapter Text
Apple Cider isn’t the sort of drink Lucifer would choose for himself, but as a default when he doesn’t offer up a recommendation of his own? Well, it’s drinkable. Which is most likely the best he can ask for from a bar operating in a sin-free rehabilitation hotel.
The bartender, Husk, seems to assign default drinks to everyone who takes up one of his bar stools. Apple Cider is sweet, sugary and only mildly alcoholic, it fits Lucifer’s personal taste in an overall inoffensive way. So, yeah, as a baseline it’s probably the perfect drink for him, but that doesn’t mean it’s his favourite; by a long shot. Apples may be his branding, but sometimes he’d prefer a vintage wine every now and then, to pretend he has any amount of class.
He swirls the drink in his glass, staring down at it as he mentally counts how many he’s had since sitting down. Enough for the puny amount of alcohol to add up and leave him buzzed, at least, which is… probably a bad sign. The last thing he needs is a fucking hangover! (He’s such a damned lightweight sometimes…)
Taking another sip, he realises a good chunk of Angel’s fired up rant has been swallowed up by his musings. Angel Dust is an alright drinking buddy, in that he knows how to carry a one-sided conversation and seems to have given up getting into his royal pants, but he’s certainly not someone he would ever choose to drink with if given the choice. The aforementioned sexual advances being reason number one! Angel may have (apparently) improved since arriving here, but he’s still in Hell for a reason. Being unable to take a ‘no’ is unfortunately one of the most common, but considering the growing relationship between the Spider Demon and Husk (his most affluent victim), he’s getting there.
… Or at least that’s what he thought, before finally tuning into Angel’s vigorous conversation again only to hear he’s complaining about… Alastor?
“—and the fucker ain’t all that! He’s gotta have somethin’! Everyone’s got somethin’! I bet he’s real kinky under all’a that prude malarky! Ya feel me, Husker? Yeah, ya feel me! ‘N ain’t even in tha sexy way!”
… Huh.
“And I keep tellin’ ya, Alastor ain’t into that kinda shit.”
“Hey! If the guy were ace he’d say so!! But he hasn’t, he just pulls his five-foot-rule bullshit!” His what now? Five-foot-rule?! Lucifer’s never heard of that before…
“Uh, he is, by the way. Asexual.” He pipes up; he can ask after this supposed ‘five-foot-rule’ later, when his head is a bit less fuzzy.
“Oh yeah? How’d you know!!” It’s in the bastard’s paperwork, listed as the primary reason he isn’t down here for the Sin of Lust. “You ain’t known him as long as us!” Ah, Angel is really drunk to be speaking at him like this… but he just snorts into his drink, Charlie would be unhappy if he went full Devil on her little resident. He can be merciful, see? He’s on the right track to racking up the Good Dad Points!
“Well, I’ve known ‘im longer than you, Angel, and I say you ain’t got no shot here. Just drop it.” Husk grouches, and even Lucifer knows the warning is not going to work the way he thinks it will.
… And he is proven right.
“I’M GOOD AT MY FUCKIN’ JOB!!!” Yikes. “I CAN SEDUCE ANYONE, ‘n that INCLUDES that prudish, stick-up-’is-ass STRAWBERRY PIMP!” Uhuh, right. Sure.
Husk seems to think so too, if the grumpy way he squints at Angel sceptically is anything to go by. “Ya barkin’ up the wrong tree on this one, kid. Drop it, please!” He knows the worry most likely stems from the bartender’s Soul contract with Alastor, be he still can’t help but wonder if the Cat Demon is feeling some measure of jealousy at Angel’s incessant interest in someone other than him… then again, it’d be pretty stupid to be the jealous type towards a renown Sex Worker, so…
“NO! I’m GOOD at this shit! I can prove it!” One of Angel’s gloved fists punches the counter as the tall spider stands, bearing forwards to loom over Husk. “I bet I can pound that uptight asshole, easy!! I just need time, I can do it- I can do him!”
On the one hand, Lucifer is loving this blatant showing of Pride from the spider… but on the other hand, he wishes it wasn’t about getting down and dirty with Alastor. He doesn’t know where the damned deer falls on the Asexuality spectrum, exactly (whether it’s complete repulsion, or just a general lack of interest…) but what he is sure of is that whatever temptation techniques Angel’s planning to use? They aren’t going to work.
Take it from the Original Tempter, he’s kinda the foremost expert on the subject.
And maybe he’s a bit more buzzed than he thought, because he sure didn’t intend to laugh so loudly at Angel’s futile resolution. Given how Angel snaps around to glare at him, though, that’s exactly what bursts out of him.
“What? Ya think you can do bettah?!” What? Him, tempt Alastor into his bed?… Well.
“*Pfft*, of course I could!” He waves a hand dismissively, taking another sip of his cider. “But what would be the point? It’s not my professional reputation on the line, now is it?” He smirks, clinking his glass with a tap of his claw as he watches the spider’s offended glare worsen. Oh, Angel Dust is entering the territory of angry drunk now! Ahahaha, that’s funny.
“Ya- that’s- I- FUCK YOU!!” Lucifer would probably take the insult more seriously were the Porn Star not currently swaying in his heels, looking moments away from falling over in that special way only the heavily drunk can achieve. “Ya think you got more of a shot with Smiles? Huh? He hates ya!” … Well.
“Doesn’t he hate you too, Angel?” He raises an eyebrow, there’s something undeniably fun about getting into a pointless argument about something so ridiculous and unlikely. Even if Angel did manage to get Alastor in bed with him, it probably won’t go the way he’s imagining in the slightest. There would probably be some messy dismemberment involved, for one.
“Tha- that don’t- that don’t matter—!” But wherever else this argument is going to go, it’s cut off by Angel’s untimely unconsciousness; the spider falling woozily to the floor.
Right. So, that just happened.
Husk sighs with a bone-deep exhaustion, putting down the glass he’s been cleaning to walk around to pick up the lanky six-limbed body of his passed out ‘friend’ (Quote unquote), grimacing as he turns to Lucifer with an apologetic wince.
“Uh, sorry ‘bout him. He’s uh, a competitive drunk…” Poor guy, he has long suffering written all over him.
Lucifer offers a small smile in return. “Don’t worry about it, I won’t hold it against him.” Because a sober Angel will hopefully realise that pursuing Alastor in any capacity is a bad idea, mortally speaking. Who knows, maybe the spider will forget about the entire conversation! That works too.
Polishing off his glass, he pushes back to leave Husk and Angel to their business. He’s going to return to his room, and craft rubber ducks until his mild buzz goes away, and then he’ll… probably seek out Charlie, or something…
… He’ll figure that part out when he gets to it.
~
“Heya short King.” Lucifer blinks a bit dumbly at the Spider Demon currently sashaying his way towards him, the hotel resident wearing his hangover like a well worn set of inverted nail shoes (painful as shit, but now dulled by familiarity)
“Angel.” He greets in return, as is only polite, before turning back to squinting at his daughter’s crayon covered schedule. He can barely, just barely, make out his little girl’s cursive penmanship underneath the colourful presentation, but the clashing hues are still burning his eyes. Does she need a new pen set, or something? Why all the fucking crayons?—
*BANG!* Angel’s hand slams on the table (the table he’s currently using, by the by) “I got a bone ta pick with ya!”
“Uuuhhh…” He turns to squint up at Angel quizzically. “A bone to pick”, huh? About what? “Do you?”
Angel doesn’t seem to take his question too kindly, if the way he huffs and puffs up his chest fluff is any indication. “Yous is thinkin’ I can’t seduce Smiles!”
… Wait, Angel’s still on that? Seriously?! Doesn’t he have literally anything else to get insulted over?
“Aha, aah… no.” He carefully returns the paperwork to the small pile Charlie gave him, taking his time to pick it up and re-align the pages with the flat surface of the table. “Not ‘think’. I know you can’t.” He snorts.
Angel bristles. “Coz he’s ace, right?” Well he doesn’t have to sound that mockingly disbelieving.
He turns a judgemental look at the spider, raising an eyebrow. “Alastor shouldn’t have to disclose his sexuality to you just to get you to leave him the fuck alone.” He gathers up the papers and gets up, he’s clearly not going to get anything worthwhile done here.
“Of course he doesn’t! Don’t change tha fact he ain’t said shit about bein’ ace!” Aaaaand Angel is following him now, great.
“Uhuh, sure.” How is this spider so damn energetic? Isn’t he nursing a hangover right now?
“I’m serious! He’s straight! That’s what Mimzy said.”
“… Who?”
“But that’s besides tha point. Point is, ya think you got a better chance doin’ the do with Smiles, instead’a me, don't cha?”
Now, on the one hand, Lucifer is revelling that he’s standing in the presence of a bruised ego, of wounded Pride… but on the other hand, he wishes he didn’t have to be dragged into this shit.
“Of course I can.” He says with a shrug, heading in the direction of Charlie’s office. Hopefully Charlie’s there, or Maggie (Vaggie, it’s VAGGIE! Remember you’re future daughter-in-law’s fucking name, asshole!) or both, either one will be enough to drive Angel away. Non-lethally, mind you. “I’m not called the Original Tempter for nothing. I didn’t tempt both of the First Women by batting my fucking eyes at them!”
“Yeah yeah.” DON’T incinerate the random Sinner just because he’s annoying him! Heaven would have a conniption if it got out he’s torturing Human Souls again. He doesn’t want to do that, he’s grown past that shit! “Well, I’m willin’ ta bet… that ya can’t.”
… WHAT?!
He freezes, turning around slowly to peer up at Angel. Ugh, it’s always the tall pretty ones, isn’t it? “… Excuse me?” The Spider Demon didn’t just say what he thought he said, right? No one’s that stupid!
“Ya heard me!” Did he? “Look, I’m a professional fucker—”
“You said it, not me.”
“—and yous being tha King’a Hell!”
“How nice of you to notice.”
“So, of tha two’a us, who’s got tha bettah chance ta bone down on tha Deer Daddy?~”
“Please never call him that again-”
“Ya think I can’t, so I’m gonna bet ya can’t!” This… he’s not serious, right? Angel isn’t seriously trying to bet with the Devil right now! Like, the Devil Devil? From the bible? He can’t have forgotten who he’s talking to, can he?
“Aha, ahahaha ah, how about no.” He shuffles those papers in his hands as he turns to keep moving. The closer to Charlie’s office, the closer he is to social freedom! “That’s a fool’s bet, Angel. I don’t need to tempt Alastor just for the sake of this dick measuring contest you’re trying to start with me.”
“Hey! Who’s measuring who’s dicks? Huh? I ain’t see no measuring tape ‘round here!” Great, he’s funny too. “C’moooon, just a simple bet! Unless… ya too chickenshit ta try me?” HA HA FUCKING HA!
He is Lucifer Morningstar! He’s the King of Hell, the Fallen Archangel, he doesn’t get goaded into idiotic bets started by equally idiotic Sinners!
… But he’s also the Prince of Pride, and Angel Dust, this redemption seeking drug addicted Mafia Kid Porn Star… has just challenged his Pride…
He’s not considering this bullshit, is he? Sure, his hatred for Alastor is entirely performative at this point, but he doesn’t want to encourage this shitty idea, does he? Of course not! Tempting Alastor into sex has >BAD IDEA< written all over it. In neon. With confetti!
“You know, I’m hearing a lot of you betting I can’t, and not a lot of you telling me why I should.” He sniffs, why is Charlie’s office so fucking far away? “This is the extent of your convincing skills?” Maybe they should’ve rebuilt a little smaller.
“How’s this for a reason?” The spider, taking advantage of his long ass legs, easily steps around him to block his way. “If ya don’t, I’ll go tell everyone I know that tha King’a Hell Itself is a fuckin’ pussy!”
“Why would I care? People have said far worse things about me.” He frowns. Honestly, Angel’s insistence is just confusing him now more than anything. “Why do you want this bet with me so badly?”
The spider smirks at him, cocking his hips in a way that’s impossible to describe without the word ‘slutty’ showing up somewhere. “Why else? Who can say they beat tha Short King at his own game, eh?” …
… No. No, he’s not agreeing to this! Of the people he has tempted, one became his wife and the other became a close friend (with benefits, but a friend nonetheless) You can’t tempt someone without a certain level of trust, of genuine interest and sincerity! His heart always loves sticking itself where it has no business being, so tempting Alastor? The first person in thousands of years who manages to anger and piss him off to that very specific degree that’s always juuuust short of murderous and violent? Who argues with him in that fun, jousting way no one else ever dares to? Oh yeah, Lucifer would be royally fucked.
That’s why he’s not going to–
“Fine, what are the terms?” … Shit.
Angel grins like the cat that got the cream (quite ironic considering he’s a spider who’s won the heart of a cat) “Terms of tha bet! If ya get Alastor ta let ya fuck him, ya win a favour from me. If I get Alastor ta let me fuck ‘im, or him fuck me, the I’ll owe a favour ta you!”
That’s… the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever heard.
“Haha! What could I possibly want from you?!”
“I dunno, whatever ya want, short stuff~” Uh, ew. No thanks.
“Uh, yeeeaaah no. Counter terms! Whichever one of us manages to either bring Alastor to orgasm, or orgasms because of Alastor, wins the bet and earns an untimed, no questions asked favour from the other. All parties involved can’t speak, write, or communicate about this bet in any capacity at any point, both during and after the terms are in place.” He doesn’t mind offering something so vague. After all, Angel’s never going to win.
He holds out his hand, glowing red as his Devilish form stretches out to show itself, wings ruffling as he readies to seal the bet with a hand shake. It’s the best way to seal it, considering Bets and Deals belong to the same contract family.
His mouth stretches in a fanged, serpentine smirk as one of Angel’s pink-gloved hands happily grips onto his, shaking Lucifer’s hand with a wide smile. How arrogant of him, to think he can win a bet under terms the Devil Himself has set.
“Fuck yeah, I got this in tha bag!” The body bag, maybe. Alastor is not going to grow partial to Angel Dust’s advances any time soon just because of a bet, if ever! He almost can’t wait for the justified displays of retribution to come!
Having got what he came here for, the Spider Demon swans away, leaving Lucifer alone in the hallway just a few paces away from his daughter’s office.
Putting his full form away, he shuffles the paperwork in his hands in a fidget as he smiles. Angel will never win this one, even if Lucifer finds himself growing far too attached to a certain Radio Demon than he’s sure is wise.
After all, it’s obvious to him that Angel hasn’t realised that all he’d need to do is masturbate to thoughts of Alastor, to completion, in order to win! No sexual harassment or bothered Deer Demons necessary! Lucifer’s still going to put in his best effort, though, if only to prove how brutish and unrefined Angel Dust’s methods are in comparison.
The little spider doesn’t stand a chance…