It Takes Two to Tango, But Three to Conga Line

by X_Gon_Give_It

Summary:

Alastor has feelings for Lucifer. If only Adam would stop getting in the way.

Adam has feelings for Lucifer. If only Alastor would stop getting in the way.

Lucifer has feelings. If only he stopped getting in his own way.

What a lovely clusterfuck they make.

Notes:

• For CelticSaemi.

Chapter 1: Alastor - Advice Needed

Notes:

For Saemi-the-dreamer

I am so sorry this has taken me so long to get out. You have the patience of a saint.

If it makes up for it in anyway, this is going to be the first AppleRadio smut fic I've written ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy <3

For everyone else, yeah I hope you like it too, I guess :P

Alastor didn’t dabble in sex very often, but he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to be this hard luring someone into his bed.

He was a little out of practice, he’d admit. Unless practice entailed actually committing to the act more than once every red moon, in which case, it was less practice than it was occasionally picking the act up and seeing if he remembered the steps.

To be fair, he didn’t find himself falling into bed with people very often, for a number of reasons. One being that most people were excruciatingly dull and if he was going to devote any amount of time to someone, they had to be a real humdinger with a taste for fun, or someone who looked like they’d taste fun with garlic, onion, and a sprinkle of garnish.

Another being that sex wasn’t all that pressing in his everyday life. Or week. Or month. The overwhelming, insatiable need people went on and on about was more of an occasional case of the munchies for him. It wasn’t nearly as much of a problem as he’d been led to believe growing up, which was a little disappointing, but only in the sense of someone hyping up an incredibly well-made, perfectly seasoned stew, only to take a bite and find out it was just okay. Tasty enough, but not worth a blue ribbon.

And for another reason, well, if he was being completely honest, it was a hell of a lot of effort for something that was going to last five minutes. Ten tops if they were taking their time. The build-up was tedious, and while the act itself was pleasurable, it just didn’t seem worth all the work a majority of the time.

If the urge ever hit, he preferred handling it himself, no outside party required. It was so much easier that way and a lot more satisfying, not to toot his own horn. Which was what he did because no one could toot his horn better than he could himself. Efficiency and self-reliance at its finest!

But as of recently, he wouldn’t, let’s say... mind getting a hand from an outside party. A very specific outside party.

If only Lucifer deigned to pick up a hint.

But what did Alastor expect from someone so short? Most things flew over his head. It was why he wore such a big hat.

Granted, his hints may not be the most…obvious at first glance.

It all started a few weeks ago when he watched Lucifer morph into an eldritch being of pure rage. His wings had burst out in a glorious display of red and white feathers, his long, curved horns grew out from his head, as red as Hell’s sky and tinged in fire, and his eyes became two glowing red pits that seared the soul of anyone who dared look into them for too long.

He was beautiful and Alastor couldn’t understand why he didn’t wear his devilish side more often. He may have given humanity the gift of free will, but he’d denied Alastor the willpower to carry on, day by day, knowing that this cosmic being of pure, unbridled power sat beneath the skin of a man who spent ten minutes wrestling a rat out of the mouth of the small, gold snake that typically laid curled around his hat.

So preoccupied with drinking in every detail, Alastor barely paid any mind to the nervous tinkling of Mammon’s cap n’ bells as he sputtered out a jury-rigged defense for himself and flung the glowing, green chain in his hands onto the ground at Lucifer’s feet. The one still connected to the collar around Alastor’s neck.

He wasn’t proud of selling his soul to Mammon—and he was more than a little embarrassed that everyone now knew about it—but like every other newly deceased sadsack who arrived in Hell, he’d been far out of his depth. He hadn’t a dime to his name, a familiar face in sight, or an orientation packet on “How To Navigate Hell: A Sinner's Guide to Damnation.”

He would’ve even taken something as small as a map of Pentagram City—that way he’d only be lost in a metaphorical sense!

By week three he was in the throes of desperation, which just so happened to be Mammon’s area of expertise. The Sin’s didn’t typically involve themselves with Sinners, but it wasn’t all that surprising that the embodiment of Greed found a way to tap into the market of human souls.

Alastor hadn’t enjoyed being reduced to Mammon’s personal eye-glass into the city—gathering more and more souls for him to add to his collection—and he feared he’d spend the rest of his afterlife trying to weasel out of their deal, racing against the clock before Mammon inevitably acted on his threats to take Alastor’s collection of souls and revert him back to the power level of a common Sinner.

Mammon was a business man at his core and after thousands of years mastering the art of deal-making, his contracts were water-tight. Binding in every scrawled letter and dotted sentence. It’d take a miracle for Alastor to untangle himself from it.

And a miracle he had, it seemed. In the form of a ridiculously fussy and very pissed off king. It looked as though his worries were over.

But although Mammon’s sputtering was music to his ears, Alastor couldn’t take his eyes off of Lucifer. He admired the way his lips twisted in rage, flaunting a striking expanse of pearly teeth, each narrowed to fine points that could tear through flesh so easily. Fire snapped and crackled around his hands, so hot that Alastor felt its heat as if he were standing next to a bonfire. The power that curled around him was gripping, like a slithering, intangible snake, and in that moment, Alastor wouldn’t have minded being caught in its coils.

Next to him, someone whistled. “Damn, that’s fucking hot.”

That obnoxious voice blew out the flicker of heat that’d begun to spark in Alastor’s gut, and he rolled his head to the side, at Adam, who was watching the display with just as much interest in his black and yellow eyes.

An ugly feeling twisted in Alastor’s stomach and he gripped his clasped wrist tighter, jaw clenching. He looked back at Lucifer, who had one hand in Mammon’s shirt and the other closed into a warning fist.

“ Yes,” he begrudgingly agreed. “It’s quite a sight.”

“ Ya know, I would’ve tapped that ass way sooner if he did this more often.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Sure. Just as soon as you got past the thousands of years of bruised ego and insecurities.”

Adam whirled around with an indignant sound, but Alastor was already walking away, not interested in starting a conversation. When it came to Adam, he rarely did.

After that, Mammon didn’t bother him. Lucifer “convinced” him to give up Alastor’s soul, so Alastor was a free man again. Finally! He should’ve been celebrating. Should’ve been painting the town red and dancing through the streets, feet lighter without the weight of a chain holding him down.

But he couldn’t for the afterlife of him get Lucifer out of his head. His impressive wing-span, nearly as wide as Adam’s despite being half his size. The curve of his horns. The way the flames illuminated his skin. Shone in his hair. The radiant glow of his eyes. The way Alastor’s fur had stood on end as that incorporeal swell of raw power thickened the air, pressing against his lungs and making it a tad harder to breathe.

It excited him. Ignited a small fire of interest that got warmer and warmer the more he allowed it to sit. He could handle it on his own through a few creative uses of his shadow tendrils, but he found that this time, he didn’t want to.

He wanted to get a closer feel. Wanted to suffocate in that swell of power. Wanted to hear that reverberating voice in his ear and experience first-hand just how sharp those teeth were.

Thus, Alastor came to the natural conclusion:

He was going to tempt the first tempter into his bed. Should be easy enough. All he needed to do was find the right lure.

So, he spent more time with Lucifer—which he didn't seem to notice.

He complimented Lucifer’s clothes—no, not to be nice, to get them off.

Dropped hints about visiting Lucifer’s room—not to see your new line of Sin-themed ducks, goddammit Lucifer!

He’d even gone as far as rolling up his sleeves and undoing the top three buttons of his shirt one evening! It was the most skin he’d ever shown anyone in the hotel, and while Lucifer looked surprised, he’d merely grabbed a drink from the bar and spent the rest of the night on the couch opposite of him, complaining about a meeting he had with the Sins as Alastor sat with arms crossed, fuming with frustration.

He didn’t know what else to do. None of his tactics were working, and they’d been absolutely fool-proof when he was alive, luring overly handsy men to their deaths. So what was the hold up?

He needed someone more familiar in this area.

Angel Dust never shut up about his exploits in bed, maybe Alastor could— nope. Just the thought of asking him for sex advice made him cringe in mortification. He could already see the melodramatic widening of Angel’s eyes, which would turn into a knavish smile, which would turn into teasing prods. Alastor had a habit of eating people that annoyed him in any conceivable way, but Charlie made a song and dance about it every time, and he’d found himself less and less able to stomach the sad, disappointed look on her face. 

Angel wasn’t the best at keeping secrets, anyway. He spent most evenings bent over the bar counter, gossiping about anything and everything with Husker. Sure, Alastor joined in on occasion—he was never going to pass up a good bit of tittle-tattling—but he didn’t want to be tittle-tattled about.

Nope, he wasn’t chancing it.

Niffty could keep a secret, but she’d get far too excited and uncomfortably obsessed. Best not to let her sink her little claws into this development in her his life, he’d be drowning in erotica written by her presumptions and harassed with artwork heavy with creative liberties. He, unfortunately, knew what kind of things she was into. Very few things scared him these days, but he didn’t think he’d ever recover from that one fateful night he’d stumbled across her stash of “hentai” porn.

Some things were never meant to be seen. 

As for Husk…ugh, Alastor didn’t even want to deal with him.

Vaggie and Charlie were the farthest thing from an option.

Which left only one other person.

---

As Overlords, Alastor considered him and Rosie to be good political allies. They agreed on the same topics, their goals often aligned, and they were both stubborn in their convictions and didn’t mind taking a bite out of anyone that questioned their handiwork—they preferred it, actually. Naysayers made for a good snack.

But as Sinners, they were fantastic friends.

There wasn’t anyone else in Hell Alastor would go to for advice (he loved Mimzy to death but that woman couldn’t give advice to save her life), and Rosie had an extraordinarily open mind.

Still, however often he’d gone to her to toss ideas around, this time it felt different.

Which was silly, because it wasn’t like she hadn’t asked about his sex life before. She had a ball spewing gossip about her own exploits, but Alastor didn’t have stories to share nor had he ever felt inclined to make some. She never questioned it past a few curious comments here and there, but otherwise, didn’t make it weird as so many other people did when he deigned to mention his lack of interest.

But now that he had something to actually share, he felt strangely nervous about the whole thing. She talked so carelessly about her affairs. So confidently. Like she didn’t feel like shriveling in her own skin at just the thought of bringing it up, and the more he reflected on his failed attempts at seduction, the more embarrassed he got for even attempting them in the first place.

Putting his plan into action was one thing. Explaining his tactics was another, and it sounded as appealing as stripping naked and waltzing down the street.

But he was also running out of time.

Adam was getting bolder every day. Always sidling up to Lucifer with a brash comment or intruding in on a conversation he wasn’t invited to. The way he flirted so unabashedly.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t care. Angel Dust flirted with anything that moved, even if it wasn’t necessarily alive. The number of shadow puppets he’d propositioned was astounding and one of these days Alastor might keep one of them corporeal just to see how far Angel Dust actually took it.

It was the way Lucifer responded to Adam that worried him. The smirks he gave back. A heated, knowing look passed between the two like a shared glass of whiskey. Small touches that felt a tad too familiar to sit well in Alastor’s stomach.

Watching them felt like watching the hands of a clock picking apart a deadline he didn’t realize he had until he was already falling behind.

He couldn’t afford to wait anymore.

“ Oh?” Rosie had said, surprised when Alastor requested they take their tea in her personal parlor instead of their usual cafe. Her eyes glanced at his hands, which were knuckling his cane. A small tell that he had more to say, which she picked up perfectly because she’d looped her arm into his and led him out of the main room of her Emporium with a breezy, “Well, alright then. If you insist.”

They settled into a smaller, private side-room upstairs. Her clients respected her too much to eavesdrop, but the room was still sequestered in a comfortable corner of the building and completely sound-proof, as it was where she conducted most of her deals and schemes.

“ So,” she said once they were situated, tea-cup poised in front of her lips, “what’s all this about? You don’t usually skip out on Bloody Mary’s.”

“ Yes, well,” Alastor cleared his throat, suddenly finding it hard to look her in the eye. “I may be in need of your…expertise…in a private matter.” He daintily sipped his tea and picked up a small, liver sandwich, pretending that this was a normal, totally unassuming topic and that he wasn’t avoiding her face.

“ My expertise? Oh, you’ll have to be more specific than that, hun. I’m knowledgeable in quite a few areas.”

“ On…” he chewed on the word for a moment, tenderizing it between his teeth before painstakingly ripping it out, “relationships.”

Rosie paused mid-sip. “Oh?” Her cup lowered. “Well, I…” she examined him curiously before a slow smile split her face and she leaned forward, hand on her chin and eyes twinkling, “I never thought I’d see the day. This isn’t something you normally bring up.”

“ Yes, I know,” he said, wiping his hands down his pants. “It’s a, uh…recent development.”

She must’ve noticed how nervous he was because her expression softened and she leaned back in her seat. “Well, go on and tell ol’ Rosie about it then.”

Alastor’s eyes darted to the door. “Everything we say doesn’t leave this room.”

“ You know it won’t.”

He nodded, but couldn’t shake the nerves gnawing on the lining of his stomach. “So, well, at the hotel there is this, um…I have a, uh...” he floundered for the proper words. Talking was usually so easy for him. He could slide into a conversation as smoothly as a sharpened knife through ribs. He could tear someone apart piece by piece in a battle of wits and come out the other side unscathed.

It was just…

Crush sounded too childish. He didn’t have a crush on Lucifer. School-children had crushes. Teenagers high on hormones had crushes.

Alastor had an infatuation. That’s what this was.

Just an infatuation.

Rosie had them all the time, as have dozens of other people he’s met. This wasn’t weird. It shouldn’t be weird.

And yet…

Rosie patiently sipped her tea.

“ If you were, say…interested in someone,” he started again, pressing his hands together, “how would you go about getting their attention?”

“ Well, I guess that depends on what kind of attention you’re looking for. Are you trying to romance this paramour? Or,” her lips sharpened and her eyes squinted mischievously over the rim of her cup, “are you looking for something a little more physical?”

Alastor had been in Hell for over seven decades—was alive on Earth for three—and was coming up to a century now in total. He was way too old to be blushing from a mere hint at sex. He wasn’t a pure, untouched virgin, and there wasn’t anything in Hell that he hadn’t already seen. But his cheeks burned anyway and he tried to hide the awkward curve of his smile by taking a long, indulgent sip from his cup.

When silence followed, he realized she wasn’t going to continue until he responded, so he took a few more seconds to collect his thoughts. He did want to sleep with Lucifer. At least once. To get it out of his system, if nothing else.

But was that all he wanted? A one-night stand. A single evening to indulge his interest and then move on, as if nothing happened.

“ I’m…not sure,” he admitted.

It was funny, really. Sex was never a concern. There was an occasional urge. A flash of sparks in his groin. A wet dream every once in a while. But nothing ever strong enough to extend his interest in other people. He liked it well enough (it was fine) when he found someone he didn’t mind sharing a romp with—which was few and far between—but it wasn’t something he typically sought out.

Seeing Lucifer in his devil form had been an unexpected delight. Alastor already enjoyed his company, they’d gotten a lot closer since their first meeting years ago, but there was something in that moment that had struck a match in him. That’d hit a dial just right.

Besides, if he was going to sleep with anyone, it may as well be someone powerful enough to be on his level (and Lucifer far extended his level. Something a part of him still loathed, but there wasn’t anything he could really do about it, now was there?)

But the idea of it being more. A relationship beyond what was physical.

Romance was another area he didn’t dabble in often. Relationships themselves were easier to navigate. Familial and platonic mostly. He was at his most comfortable when he was sharing a drink with a friend or bantering through a conversation. Romance was a little more...complicated.

Rosie let him stew in his thoughts a little longer before he hesitantly continued, “For now, I guess, something more on the physical side of things.”

“ Well, well, well, believe it or not, that’s my specialty!” She clasped her hands in her lap, excited. “So! Who’s the lucky Sinner.”

“ Not quite a sinner,” he admitted under his breath.

“ Oh?” She looked even more excited. “You rascal, are you going to make me guess?” She carried on before he could opened his mouth, speculating out loud, “At the hotel you said? Can’t be someone boring, there’s never a dull moment with you. Someone who can keep up in a tizzy. Oh, you’d break out in blisters if they were a light weight.” She taps her chin. “Let’s see, who has enough pizzaz for my ol’ Alastor?”

It took seconds for her finger to still and her eyes to widen. Alastor sipped his tea. A look of pure wickedness carved onto her face.

Yep, this was a bad idea.

Alastor got up, brushing off his coat. “Ah, well, I’m sure I’ll figure things out. Thank you for the tea, Rosie. Literally and metaphorically. I’ll be on the lam. Toodle-oo!”

She seized him by the tailcoat before he made it past the table.

“ Nuh-uh, we’re not done yet, mister,” she admonished, bullying him back into his chair.

“ Aren’t we?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“ Now don’t you pull those big deer eyes on me.” She wagged a finger at him, but her smile was far too big to be chastising. As soon as he was back in his seat, she leaned forward, positively giddy. “Come on, who was it who caught your eye?”

“ You know, I can’t seem to recall. Must’ve been a false alarm. You know how fickle these things can be.”

“ Come on, don’t keep me in suspense. Who was it?” Her black eyes twinkled as she whispered, “Tell me.”

Alastor sighed, slumping in his seat. “You know who it is,” he groused, crossing his arms.

“ So it is Lucifer!”

“ Yes, yes, yes,” he flapped his hand dismissively. “I don't know why you’re acting so surprised. It’s not a big deal.”

It felt like a very big deal. He took a large, defensive bite out of his sandwich.

Rosie chuckled behind her hand. “You can’t blame me. Last I knew, you and him got along like a cat to water.”

“ Well, cats disliking water was entirely made up. I’ve tested it with Husker many times, so take from that what you will.”

Rosie shook her head, not the least put off by his snide remarks. Hmmm…maybe he should reconsider their friendship. She was far too accustomed to his wily antics. Alastor continued drinking his tea until there was no tea left to drink, and then kept pretending to drink anyway.

“ Well, you could’ve done worse,” she teased, picking a frosted little cake off one of the handful of platters on the table. “The King of Hell’s a mighty big catch.”

Alastor sighed, coming up from his tea-cup to rub his hand over his forehead. “That’s the problem. There’s been no catch. Just a lot of waiting with my hook in the water.” He tried not to sound as pouty as he felt. “There hasn’t been a lot of biting.”

“ What have you done to get his attention so far?” she asked, picking up another few pastries. That woman and her sweet-tooth.

Alastor busied himself by doing the same. Just the reminder of his failed attempts at getting Lucifer’s attention made him cringe. Embarrassment was an emotion he preferred to avoid, and he didn’t need a refresher on why that was.

“ Well,” he said, stilted and awkward, “I’ve tried spending more time with him. Dropped a few hints here and there.”

“ What kind of hints?”

“ About visiting his room. Preferably at night.”

“ And?”

Alastor huffed. “He was very excited.”

“ That’s a good sign!”

“ Excited about showing off his rubber ducks.”

“ Ah.”

“ Exactly.” He rolled a candied eyeball around his plate. “I’ve tried complimenting him more, but that hasn’t gone anywhere either.”

Rosie hummed, pinching her chin in thought. “Have you tried seducing him?”

“ That’s what all of this has been,” Alastor said, exasperated.

Rosie waved him off. “No, no, I mean, seducing him in a different way. Instead of you getting his attention, have you tried getting his attention on you.”

Alastor cocked his head and sat a little straighter in his chair. “How would I do that?”

“ You could try a new look. Buy yourself a spiffy new jacket. Undo a button or two.”

“ But I have!” Alastor cried, dropping his head onto the table with a thunk. “I had three buttons undone, Rosie. Three.” He held up the appropriate number of fingers.

Rosie gasped, splaying a scandalized hand over her chest. “Oh my, Alastor. You are desperate.”

Alastor groaned. “Look at what he’s turned me into. And for what?” He looked up, head in his arms. “He’s too busy spending time with Adam to notice, anyway. You’d think those two were joined at the hip. It’s ridiculous, considering they used to hate each other so much.”

Rosie tried, and failed, to hide a smile behind her hand. “Didn’t you and Lucifer hate each other?”

“ For a few months,” Alastor grumbled. “Not thousands of years. It’s different.”

Humming, Rosie rested her cheek in her hand. “Yes, I suppose it is,” she humored him.

Alastor held onto his annoyance for a second before his shoulders deflated. “He does have a few thousand years on me, though,” he admitted quietly. “Adam, I mean. The beginning of mankind is a long time to know each other. Hated or not.”

“ Oh, sweetie,” Rosie ran her manicured hand through his hair, giving a nice scratch behind his ears in sympathy. As much as Alastor teased Husk for his cat-like behaviors, he’d admit, a little scratch here and there wasn’t so bad. “There is one thing you have over him.”

Alastor peered up at her with wide eyes. “I do?”

“ Your relationship with Charlie! From what I’ve heard, she didn’t have a very good experience with Adam up until he manifested in Hell. And even then, she’s still not at all that keen on him.”

Alastor sat up. “How do you know that?”

“ You’re not the only one I have tea with,” she winked. “I won’t go into specifics, but for all her smiles and supportive attitude, Adam didn’t leave a good impression on her. I’m not sure he will for some time. He’s got a lot of making up to do.”

Alastor leaned back, considering that.

“ You on the other hand,” Rosie continued, “have been helping that girl since she opened her little hotel. It’s been, what, nearly three years now? I know you were having your fun, but you can’t tell me you haven’t grown a little fond of the place.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, but otherwise didn’t reply. Which was all the answer she needed.

“ She adores you,” Rosie said, softer. “And that’s something I don’t think Adam will ever have over you. And besides,” she picked up the teapot to refill their cups, “considering how much our king gravitates towards family, I’d say that gives you a leg up on the competition. Wouldn’t you?”

“ Oh, Rosie,” Alastor purred, dropping his chin on the back of his interlaced fingers, “are you implying that I use the relationship I have with Charlie—a relationship built on mutual respect and trust—” now, at least, he added mentally, “for my own gain?”

Rosie smiled over the rim of her cup. “You’ve done it before.”

He chuckled. “Devious little thing.”

“ No more devious than you,” she countered. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”

“ Yes. I do have a plan B, in case Adam wins.”

She cocked her head. “Oh?”

“ Mhm. What wine would you say goes well with smoked bird?”

Notes:

And so it begins.

Don't worry, we'll get to the smut part. We just gotta do a bit of build up first U.U

See ya in the next one <3

Chapter 2: Eyes on the Prize

Notes:

A short chapter but the next one will be longer <3

Rosie’s advice worked better than Alastor expected.

He’d never realized how much better his relationship with Charlie was than Adam's until he actually started paying attention, and true to Rosie’s word, she didn’t seem to like Adam all that much.

Oh, she’s cordial enough. She didn’t insult him or bring up his past mistakes, but her smile got a smidgeon tighter whenever he talked to her. Her shoulders rose ever so slightly when he was around her friends or got too close to Vaggie. She tended to leave the room not long after he entered and didn’t engage in conversation unless he approached her.

Alastor was a little embarrassed he didn’t notice sooner. Charlie wasn’t a closed book, she wore her heart on her sleeve like a badge of honor. But he blamed his inattentiveness on the fact that he’d been a little…preoccupied lately. Trying to tempt the original tempter was a lot more work than he thought.

He followed Rosie’s advice, and as much as he itched to keep an eye on Adam and Lucifer whenever they were in the same room, he started spending more time with Charlie.

Heaven only recently begun backing her plan and the poor girl was stressed like nothing else. She was handling it well, all things considered, but Alastor was sure a part of that came from Vaggie’s relentless support. Still, when he stepped up and took on more of their workload, he was delighted when his efforts were actually appreciated.

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked when he insisted on tackling their most recent stack of paperwork. There were bags under her eyes, her jacket was a mish-mash of wrinkles and stains, and her hair was a giant, tangled mess. Vaggie was no better. Her bow was tipped a little more sideways every time Alastor saw her, and she didn’t seem to notice that her shirt was inside out. Exhaustion hung off them like cobwebs, and Alastor was more then capable of busting out his feather-duster and giving the place a shine.

“Think nothing of it,” he said, giving her a well-meaning pat on the head. Not a condescending one, if you’d believe it. It was crazy to think that somewhere in their time working together, he’d actually developed a fondness for her. Vaggie to. “When was the last time either of you slept?”

“Two days ago?” Charlie answered uncertainly at the same time Vaggie squinted and asked, “What?” like she didn’t understand the question.

“Mhm,” Alastor said, taking the teetering stack of papers out of her hands. “Well, you won’t be doing the hotel any favors by running yourselves dry. Go take a nap. Have a bath while you’re at it.” He shooed them away. “I’ll take care of this.”

“Alastor, it’s fine, I can—” Charlie started but Alastor tutted and stepped out of reaching distance when she tried taking the stack back.

“You’re not going to pull a fast one on me, young lady. No, siree! Now, turn around and march yourselves upstairs.” He summoned a few tendrils to physically turn them both around and nudge them to the stairs. “Off you pop. There you go. Leave this to me.”

“Are you sure?” Vaggie asked out of politeness, but she was already a few steps up the stairs with no intention of coming back down.

“When am I not?”

She snorted. “Well…if you insist, I guess.” She reached for Charlie, who stubbornly stayed put.

“But I’m not—” she yawned loudly “—even that sleepy. I can do a few more.”

“Not in my presence, you won’t.” Alastor pushed her a few more steps up the stairs. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave a nice, big stack of paperwork just for you. Don’t go thinking I’m gonna do your job.”

She walked up a few more steps before casting him another uncertain look. “Are you sur—”

“Sorry, dear, I can’t hear you over all that snoring. Get back to me later.”

She chuckled tiredly. “Alright, alright.” She accepted Vaggie’s hand and the two headed upstairs.

Alastor watched them until they disappeared over the second floor landing and then sent his shadow to make sure they actually went to their room. It returned a few minutes later with a smile and salute.

Good.

He shook his head. Honestly, what would they do without him? Charlie would run herself to the bone if he weren’t around, and Vaggie was no better. Charlie shamelessly roped her into all-nighters and lesson planning, they were accomplices through and through. They should consider themselves lucky he volunteered to help with this hotel when he did, nothing would’ve gotten done otherwise.

He settled into the cushioned wheely chair in Charlie’s office and waved his hand, summoning a pair of reading glasses that he switched out his monocle with, and looked through the papers. Budgeting sheets. Applications. Chore lists. Grocery lists. Maintenance reports. Resident complaints. Work-sheets. Activity planners.

He set aside anything pertaining to the residents and their programs. Therapy and sharing circles were Charlie’s area of expertise. The budgeting sheets, however, he could do. He thanked whatever higher being that’d listen that the Morningstar's were so rich, because yeesh.

 

---

 

He wasn’t sure how long he worked. At some point he summoned a pot of coffee to chase away any budding fatigue as he made his way through the stack. As much as he complained about doing all the work, he really was enjoying himself. It was a nice distraction from all the other problems occupying his mind.

Pipes and grocery lists were far easier to deal with than his frustration around…everything else.

It was so easy, in fact, that he didn’t even notice when the light outside went from red to purple and then pink.

He was so wrapped up in what he was doing that he didn’t realized the door had opened until he heard a voice.

“Good morning, sweetheart, I brought you some, oh—” it cut off as Alastor turned and met Lucifer’s eyes. “Uh, hi, Alastor. Sorry, I thought you were Charlie.”

Alastor chuckled, tapping his pen against the table. “And a good morning to you too, sweetheart.” He delighted in the faint, gold flush in Lucifer’s cheeks.

It soured immediately when Adam’s head popped in the doorway behind him. “What the fuck is the hold-up—oh, you, tampax. Where’s little miss rainbow and her gloomy cloud?”

Alastor picked up the paper he’d been working on and spun on the chair, feigning indifference. “I sent Charlie and Vaggie to their room hours ago—wait,” he blinked, running through Lucifer’s words again, and turned back around. “Did you say morning?”

“Yeah.” Lucifer set down the plate of pancakes and eggs in his hand to tug the heavy red curtains aside, revealing a soft pink morning sky. Alastor looked at the grandfather clock across the room to confirm the time and, ah, so it was.

Had he really been up all night?”

“Were you up all night?” Lucifer asked, migrating from the window to the desk.

Alastor looked down at his paperwork, flabbergasted. “I guess so.” He shook his head. “My, my, how time flies.”

Adam peered over Lucifer’s shoulders, at the strewn papers, and his lips curled. “This is what you do all night? Math? Fucking nerd.”

Alastor took back the paper Adam picked up. “Budgeting, actually,” he snipped. “It’s a little something we adults do to make sure we don’t go bankrupt. Or, keep this hotel from going bankrupt, at least.” The last bit he muttered more to himself as he looked the sheet over again.

“Yeesh, did you do all of these?” Lucifer asked, thumbing through the tall stack of paperwork set neatly to the side.

Alastor shrugged, attempting modesty, and then puffed out his chest in self-satisfaction because fuck that nonsense, the Morningstar's spending habits were horrible and it was only fitting his noble efforts be recognized.

“Well, as Charlie’s hotelier, it’s part of my job.”

Adam scowled. “I thought you were the bellhop?”

Lucifer quickly waved Adam’s comment aside, laughing nervously. “No, no, I said that—it was a joke. I said that as a joke. He’s not the bellhop.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. I thought you were the facilities manager and you, you know, managed the facilities.”

“Oh, I do that too,” Alastor said, rising out of his chair and smoothing down his clothes. “As part of my hotelier duties. Charlie and I are business partners, after all. Besides, if someone didn’t step in, she and Vaggie would’ve run themselves ragged by now and I have no intention of stepping up as the face of this hotel.”

“Wow, that’s…” Lucifer’s eyes scanned the documents again and when he looked at Alastor, they were soft and warm. “That’s really kind of you, Alastor. Thank you. I didn’t realize how much you helped run this place.”

Alastor didn’t consider himself a shy person, but his cheeks flushed and he suddenly found himself unable to meet Lucifer’s eyes. “Yes, well,” he rolled the pen he’d been using between his fingers, trying to appear nonchalant, but had a feeling he didn’t pull it off when Lucifer’s lips turned upward in amusement. “Well, someone had to do it,” he said quickly turning away in case Lucifer could hear the suddenly hard thumping of his heart.

“Where are those two rapscallions anyway?” he asked, looking toward the door with his hands on his hips. “I told them I’d help with the paperwork, not that I’d do it all.”

“I don’t know, probably still in bed or something, who the fuck cares?” Adam grumbled and tugged on Lucifer’s sleeves. “Come on, I thought we were getting something to eat. You said you’d show me that place in the garden with the weird ass ducks.”

An ugly feeling coiled in Alastor’s stomach. So, that was where they were off to. Breakfast in the garden. In Lucifer’s favorite spot, probably, underneath a willow-tree in a small, cozy clearing he’d hidden behind a cobblestone wall covered in ivy. He’d been so excited when he showed it to Alastor for the first time, going as far as covering Alastor's eyes and leading him there by hand. He could still feel the heat on his skin.

Lucifer was so proud of himself when he spread his arms, displaying the clearing. It’d been nightfall, and green-glowing fireflies were drifting lazily in the air, illuminating the branches of the long, swaying willow tree and sending twinkling green lights across the pond.

It was beautiful and reminded Alastor so much of his bayou’s back home it hurt.

Imagining Adam stomping around it…

He clenched his jaw.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” Lucifer said, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t look nearly as annoyed as Alastor wished he was. He faltered slightly though when he looked back at Alastor and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Alastor quickly looked away.

“Sounds like a good time,” he said dismissively as he plopped back in his chair and picked up a paper he didn’t realize he’d finished until he was halfway through reading it. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

Lucifer frowned. “Still? You’ve been up all night.”

“There’s no rest for the wicked, and I certainly fall into that category.” Alastor shooed them away without looking up. “Go on. Enjoy your breakfast in the garden.”

“Do you…I mean, you can join us, if you want.”

Alastor gripped the paper tighter. And spoil his memory of Lucifer’s hidden garden with the likes of Adam? Ha! No, thank you.

“No, no, I really should finish this,” he insisted. “But you two go on.” The words tasted so sour he wrinkled his nose.

“Well…if you’re sure.”

“Alright, come on, lets go,” Adam said, stomping toward the door.

Alastor thought Lucifer had followed until a white finger nudged the side of his glasses and he looked up, breath hitching slightly with how close Lucifer had gotten.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he said, examining them closely. His lips twitched upward. “They suit you.”

Alastor swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “Why, thank you.” He adjusted them. “They suit my eyesight very nicely, too.”

Lucifer snickered. “Oh, good. I was worried you were wearing them for the aesthetic.”

Alastor rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Now that’s a modern trend I’m going to throttle the Vee’s for.”

“I look forward to it.”

Adam made another impatient noise and Lucifer got up from leaning over the desk, but not without giving Alastor another smile that made his heart flip-flop.

“See you later, Al.” He walked to the door.

“I could wear glasses,” Adam grumbled as they left.

“You don’t need glasses.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I do. I could wear glasses and I’d make them look cool.”

Alastor smirked and readjusted his glasses again as the door closed.

Notes:

Alright, smut incoming! Prepare yourselves cuz the next chapter is gonna get steamy.

Notes:

I have a tumblr -> Allastoredeer