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Alastor sat at his desk, thinking about Lucifer. The newly painted rubber duck sat in front of him, its grotesque eyes boring into his own crimson ones in a way that was unsettling even to him.
The duck hadn’t turned out how he’d wanted it to. That much was clear. It was, of course, far too late now. Alastor had a schedule, and he’d be damned again if he procrastinated with something so trivial.
He scoffed at himself quietly, his ears twitching in irritation. He wished this was trivial. He wished love was trivial. But it wasn’t, of course. It was complicated, it was terrifying. It was absolute agony. Being shot again would be easier than what he planned to do that evening.
In a desperate attempt to ignore the rebelliously quick thrumming of his heart, he let his mind drift to other matters. The hotel has done well. Charlie’s got a good mind on her. Charlie… Charlie has her father’s hair. Her father’s infuriatingly beautiful hair. Her father…
And he was, predictably, exactly where he began. Alastor sighed. He’d never been a believer in ignoring one's problems. The thorns in your side would do nothing but harm should you leave them there.
Lucifer was certainly a thorn in his side. Everything Charlie spouted about love being beautiful, fuzzy feelings and butterflies… It was all a lie. Perhaps it was accurate for someone as naive as her, but in his numerous decades of experience, love was nothing but a nuisance.
Like Lucifer. A thorn in his side. A nuisance.
Lucifer, who made him want to rip his hair out, to scream in fury. The man who’d made Alastor so intensely angry that he could burst.
Lucifer, who made him weep, eyes burning with tears he’d thought previously impossible. Who made him feel such a deep, aching sadness he thought he might drown.
Lucifer, who made him laugh. Who made his ever-present grin real.
Lucifer, who Alastor knew–without any doubt in his mind–could hurt him beyond anything he’d felt. And that, that, was what scared Alastor so much. He knew that he may well be digging himself a grave that would be too deep even for him to climb out of.
And the worst part, the silver bullet, was that he truly didn’t care. He didn’t care because Lucifer made him laugh, he made him cry, he made him feel safe, he made him feel terrified to his core.
He made him feel at home.
And so it was with some trepidation that Alastor picked up the duck once more, along with the fine brush he’d used to paint it, and turned it over in his hand.
It didn’t take much thought to decide what he would write.
Lucifer was having a rotten day, which was clear to anyone who saw him. Even Husker had given him a wide berth all day. Now, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was so upset about. Really it was just one of those days. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed, if you will. And things just kept getting worse.
From spilling coffee on his (white) suit to tripping over Angel Dust’s pet pig, things were not going his way.
He now sat in his velvet armchair, in a clean but hideously salmon suit, with a new cup of coffee. Which he glared at furiously, as though it had personally wronged him.
And it was at this exact moment that Alastor decided to make an entrance. Lucifer loved his boyfriend, (which he mentally repeated to himself like a mantra while rubbing his temples) but Alastor had a tendency to be rather grandiose. To the point where Lucifer often found himself a bit… exhausted.
“Lucifer, my dear!” Alastor exclaimed, his staticky voice loud and overwhelming, as always. The king turned to him tiredly, looking him over. Alastor stood next to him, his arms clasped tightly behind his back. Lucifer vaguely took note of the slight tremble to the Radio Demon’s shoulders, but elected to ignore it. He hardly ever knew what was going on in the man’s head anyways.
“What is it, Alastor?” He asked, his voice unintentionally short. Alastor flinched just slightly, a response Lucifer had gotten used to at this point. Usually he tried not to invoke it.
“I- well… I’ve made you something.” Alastor started, rather awkardly. His ears were pinned back against his head. Lucifer raised an eyebrow.
“Have you, now?” He asked uninterestedly. Alastor nodded, and held out one open hand, which held a singular rubber duck.
It was… well, it was positively hideous. White, with wide, mismatched eyes and a grotesque, fanged smile. There was a small tophat on the thing’s head, and what was trying to be a vest painted over its torso. Lucifer cringed at the sight. He was fairly sure the duck was meant to look like him, which…was not a flattering fact.
It was a cursed object, no doubt.
“You… you have ducks for all of us, but you don’t have one for yourself. I thought you deserved a spot in your own collection.” Alastor murmered, his showman’s voice softer than usual.
Lucifer grimaced, and plucked it from Alastor’s hands. On any other day he would’ve worked his way around the gesture, offering thanks and then getting as far away from the duck as possible.
Today though, he just glowered at it.
“It’s rather ugly, don’t you think?” He asked, analyzing the duck’s awful grin.
Alastor’s eyes widened just slightly, and he quickly averted his gaze before reaching to adjust his bowtie. “Yes, I suppose it is. Never mind, dear. It was a silly idea.” His voice lacked the humor meant to accompany the words, and Lucifer felt a slight twinge.
It really was an ugly duck, though.
Alastor stood there for a moment longer, before turning around and walking out stiffly, his shoulders squred uncomfortably.
Lucifer tossed the duck unceromoniuosly into the trash can across the room, hoping Niffty would take things out soon. He’d really rather be rid of the thing.
“You, uh… you alright there, smiles?” Angel asked awkwardly, tracing the edges of his glass. Alastor had sat at the bar, shoulders slumped dejectedly, his smile wavering just slightly. It was a highly uncomfortable sight for both Angel and Husk, who stood behind the bar looking disturbed.
“Oh, just fine, Angel.” Alastor started. “Say… how did you confess love to your feline beau?” He asked, eyes shifting up to a spot just under Angel’s.
Husker bristled, and Angel snickered at him. The question was odd though, and Angel wasn’t entirely sure how to approach it. Not that he ever really knew with this guy. He hid everything behind that smile. The unusual show of emotion made it nearly impossible to figure out what he needed.
“I just told him.” Angel responded casually, taking a sip of his drink. “Passionately. In bed.” He added, as an afterthought.
“You told me while you were drunk outta your mind. On the bathroom floor.” Husker corrected indignantly. Angel shrugged.
“Same thing. Anyways, what’s got ya curious about my love life, smiles?” He asked, looking back at the still dejected Radio Demon.
“I… I don’t believe that I could do that. Just say it, I mean.” His words were slow, as though he was turning them over in his head a few times before he said them. It was rather uncharacteristic, actually.
“You could try telling him some other way? Write it down, maybe.” Husk offered, sliding a freshly filled glass to Angel.
Alastor almost chuckled at how quickly Husk had gotten a read on the situation. The bartender had always been good at that… it was part of why Alastor had wanted the man working for him in the first place.
“I’ve tried that. He was… not receptive.” Alastor responded quietly. Angel reached one of his lower arms out, and patted Alastor’s wrist.
“Don’t worry too much. I’m sure he knows. And if not, you’ll find a way to tell him.”
“Hey, Lucifer.” The voice came from behind him, and Lucifer turned with a sigh.
“What is it, Husker?” He asked. It wasn’t often the bartender voluntarily struck up conversation with him. Or anyone, for that matter.
“Has Alastor done anything outta the usual today?” Husk asked cryptically, looking at Lucifer with an expression that made the king slightly uncomfortable.
“No.” He responded curtly, before turning back around.
“You sure? Because I’m thinking he maybe did.” Husk said. Lucifer swivelled back to him, scowling.
“Husker, everything that demon does is out of the usual. You can’t possibly expect me to know whether what he’s doing is strange or not.” He snapped.
Husk stepped back, his ears twitching slightly.
“He’s your boyfriend. I think you’d have at least some idea. Just… can you think back a little? Has he done anything lately that felt a little bit odd?”
“No, I don’t think he-” Lucifer paused suddenly, his mind going back to that afternoon.
Alastor’s wide eyes, his trembling hands, the horrible duck.
“I… why are you asking?” He asked, though his back remained turned. Husk sighed.
“He came to the bar earlier looking like a kicked puppy. Then again, what do I know?” Husk chuckled a little. “Look, just pay more attention, alright? Alastor doesn’t communicate the way most people do. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something.”
Lucifer breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the duck was still at the bottom of the can. Then he pulled it out and remembered why he’d thrown it away.
He shuddered, but still looked the thing over. Husker had clearly been trying to tell him something, and the only “abnormal” thing Alastor had done that day was give Lucifer the damned duck. He had no clue why, seeing as Alastor was most certainly not the gift-giving type.
It wasn’t until he caught the writing at the bottom that everything made sense.
The base of the duck was as badly painted as the rest of it, but there was something written in black, words in Alastor’s unmistakable script.
When you’re with me, I’m home. I love you. –Alastor
His breath caught in his throat when he read it, and his heart dropped down to his feet.
“Fuck.”
When Lucifer walked into their bedroom, Alastor was sitting on the bed, his back to the door. Even across the room, Lucifer could see the trembling in his shoulders. His usual air of confidence was conspicously absent.
“Al…” Lucifer started, voice soft. He didn’t know what to say to fix this, how to make it better. All of the irritation of the day— the anger—had melted away the minute he’d seen the inscription.
Alastor turned to him, and it was like the room froze. The unsettlng smile was there, of course, but the tears running tracks down Alastor’s face were entirely new. New and absolutely terrifying. His red eyes were tired, but brimming with tears that, in the king’s own opinion, cemented Lucifer’s status as Hell’s biggest asshole.
“Alastor, I didn’t see the note… I–”
“Thought it was hideous?” Alastor interrupted, his voice smooth despite the tears. “You’re not wrong.” He finished with a chuckle that didn’t match his face.
“Don’t do that..” Lucifer started, voice slightly desperate. “Don’t act like it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t.” Alastor muttered. “It was a silly little thing, really.” His grin widened insincerely, but Lucifer saw it waver.
Lucifer strode across the room quickly to stand in front of Alastor, reaching out to cup his face. The contact was sudden, and the deer demon flinched, looking away. Lucifer tilted his chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“It wasn’t silly. It was beautiful. I’m an idiot for not seeing what it was.”
Alastor’s eyes widened slightly.
“I love you, darling.” Lucifer said, voice firm. “And I’m sorry that I hurt you–please believe me.”
Alastor dropped his gaze, lips trembling as he leaned into Lucifer’s touch. Lucifer wrapped one arm around his back, resting on his shoulder. He pocketed the duck gently with the other in favor of stroking the demon’s hair.
“I…” Alastor started “I wanted to say it. I wanted you to know.”
Lucifer pulled him in tighter, kissing his temple gently when Alastor rested his forehead on the king’s shoulder.
“I do know, love. And the feeling is mutual, more than you know.”
He paused for a minute, the both of them simply being, breathing the same air.
“You’re my home too, Alastor. Never forget that.”