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The ruined gala is filled with Sinners, all bustling to talk to Charlie and her merry band of misfits. Alastor watches from the shadows of a nearby building, his hard stare trailing the Vees as they gather themselves and disappear back into their ivory tower. That Vox still lives vexes him, but at least the idiot’s power and hold over the denizens of Hell have been broken.
Rosie walks by, and she nods to him with a small smirk, respectful and lovely as ever. Alastor gives a short bow back, then glances across the courtyard once more. He has no intention of staying here and mingling with the new fans of the Hazbin Hotel and its staff.
He pauses when he sees a lone figure lying on the ground, forgotten as Charlie talks excitedly with the Sinners approaching her. After a long moment, he flicks his wrist, allowing his shadows to rise up around Lucifer Morningstar’s prone body and gathering him into the darkness, taking him away. Alastor follows with a whisper of static, smirking to himself.
If no one noticed that the Devil was unconscious and vulnerable, no one will notice if Alastor spirits him away.
He appears on the other side in his own room in the Hotel. His shadows deposit Lucifer on his couch, and Alastor ignores the passed out king for now, slowly stripping off his coat and undoing his tie and shirt buttons. He looks over his injuries, then deems them non-fatal and pours himself two fingers of whiskey.
A low moan catches his attention. Alastor turns his head to watch Lucifer shiver and curl in on himself, hat askew against the side of the sofa. The King of Hell does not wake, though he continues to tremble from the torture he was put through.
The scent of angelic blood is heady, but that is not what has Alastor’s attention.
He lights a cigarette and walks over to the unconscious King, gazing down at him in consideration. One fallen angel had powered that weapon enough that it had nearly destroyed Hell. It had broken the barrier around Heaven, thought impenetrable. That kind of power was... alluring. Seductive. Interesting.
Not that he cares about the person who holds that power, but needs must — and Alastor has very dire needs, indeed. His deal with Rosie to repair his staff strengthened him, but if his fight with Vox was any indication, there may be others that could rise to power and rival him. Alastor does not want another Vox, forcing him to bow down and acknowledge them.
No... not when there is a potential source for power right here in the Hotel. Even bruised and bleeding, Lucifer still gleams with angelic energy, the light within him unbroken.
Alastor will have to be careful, though. Lucifer can’t stand him on a good day, and Alastor is hardly any better when it comes to the King of Hell. Yet he cannot deny that Lucifer Morningstar is... interesting. An idiot, to be sure — no one with any ounce of intelligence would walk into such an obvious trap and let themselves be caught — but that doesn’t mean the King of Hell isn’t useful. At the very least, Lucifer is devoted, clever, and prideful. Alastor can work with that.
The problem lies in the fact that Lucifer has never been fooled by his smile. The Deceiver himself, the King of Hell can spot a falsehood a mile away, and Alastor has been unable to fool him. His only triumph is that he is able to goad Lucifer into anger very, very quickly. Yet that will not get Alastor what he truly wants — a deal with the King of Hell for that power that he craves. Lucifer would never agree to it, with the way he outright hates Alastor.
He just needs to find out what Lucifer would want from him. The most obvious possibility is Charlie’s safety, but there may be other options. Hopefully not anything as banal as sex or companionship... but it is obvious that Lucifer is lonely. Alastor doesn’t know if he can fulfill that particular need, though.
Something to consider. For now... he should try to be nice. You catch more flies with honey, and all.
He should start with keeping the idiot from bleeding all over his couch, at least.
Alastor sets his cigarette on its dish, then leans over Lucifer to pull the devil’s obnoxious garments open. His eyes trace the wounds made by Vox’s machine. The burns and lacerations are sluggishly seeping out blood. No matter. Alastor summons a bowl of water and a washcloth and begins to clean the golden stains off Lucifer’s chest.
Lucifer wakes abruptly at the first touch of cold water, hissing. He stiffens and opens his eyes, blinking several times when he finds Alastor instead of any enemies or friends. He flinches back from Alastor’s touch and huddles against the side of the couch, looking around the room blearily, then focuses on Alastor.
“Wha... you?”
“You should really use my name,” Alastor replies, rolling his eyes. “I know you know it, Lucifer.”
“Don’t want to,” Lucifer mutters, glancing down at himself. “...Why am I naked?”
“You are hardly naked, you buffoon—” Alastor closes his teeth over the insult, annoyed. Already his plans of ‘being nice’ are ruined by Lucifer’s own damn annoying personality.
“Half-naked,” Lucifer snaps back, then groans and covers his face with his hand. “Whatever. Is... is Charlie okay? I heard her voice. And that box guy...”
“Your daughter is safe and sound, having saved the day while you were otherwise occupied,” Alastor says loftily. He pushes Lucifer back down on the couch and tugs his arms open, then continues to clean his wounds. “Vox was defeated by his own ineptitude. In fact, there were few injuries from the Hotel’s staff and residents. You and I suffered the worst, I should say.”
Lucifer is too out of it to stop Alastor from manhandling him. He stares down at Alastor cleaning his burns, blinking a few times, before seemingly giving up and leaning his head back against the arm of the sofa. “Tha’s good... you too? Fuck,” Lucifer hisses, stiffening as Alastor’s tending brushes over a particularly raw wound.
“Vox’s shitty dog thing. Not to mention...”
“Oh yeah... you had an angelic wound,” Lucifer slurs, his eyes falling closed. “How’sat? Doin’ okay?”
“Not really,” Alastor mutters, then pauses, staring blankly at Lucifer. “How the fuck did you know that?”
“Felt it...”
“You...” Alastor lets out a short sigh. All this time hiding it from everyone around them, and Lucifer knew. Yet he still didn’t know that he was walking into a trap. He shakes off his annoyance and wipes the cloth down Lucifer’s bare side, cleaning up the last of the blood, then drops it in the bowl. He wonders if his own stitches will hold together a fallen angel’s skin.
Lucifer lets out a low noise and reaches a hand toward Alastor, sparking his annoyance again. He catches Lucifer’s hand in his own and squeezes warningly. “Stop that.”
“No, let me see,” Lucifer mumbles, not even opening his eyes. “Touch. Lemme touch it.”
Stunned, Alastor lets him go, and Lucifer reaches blindly for Alastor’s chest, laying a hand over the stitched wound that still hasn’t healed after all this time. A soft, pale glow spreads over his blackened hand, and it spreads from his fingers to Alastor’s chest, melting the stitches and seeping deep into his skin. Alastor snarls as pain erupts, grabbing Lucifer’s hand by the wrist, but Lucifer only pulls his hand away, taking a golden glow with it that Alastor feels being dragged out of him. He stares blankly down at his chest, where the angelic poison that has kept his skin open remains no longer.
Even wounded and half-unconscious, Lucifer still managed to heal him... Alastor breathes in shakily, licking his lips with desire. That kind of power would let him do whatever he wanted. It is wasted in the hands of this fool.
Yet... this fool managed to heal him, without even asking for anything in return. Alastor should really laugh at how foolish Lucifer is, but...
He can see why half of Hell is drawn to this fool.
Lucifer collapses again, panting softly from overexertion. Alastor sighs through his nose and moves Lucifer’s arm back to his side, then runs his finger over the center of Lucifer’s chest to draw green stitches through the wounds. Behind him, his shadow cackles approvingly. Alastor looks over his handwork with a keen eye, then stands to pour out the water.
When he returns, Lucifer is watching him.
“Why are you helping me?” Lucifer asks softly. Alastor thinks of lying, of spinning some tale, but the Deceiver would undoubtedly figure him out immediately, even weakened as he is. Despite being unable to physically harm Sinners, the King of Hell truly is a formidable enemy.
Alastor will not underestimate him.
“Same reason you helped me,” Alastor answers quietly. Lucifer holds his gaze for a long moment, then nods and breathes out, closing his eyes again.
“Fine. But tomorrow, we go back to normal,” Lucifer mumbles, sagging into the sofa cushions. “Alastor...”
“What?” Alastor lifts his head, stunned to hear his name from Lucifer’s lips, but to his dismay, the King of Hell is asleep. He stares at Lucifer for a long moment, then sighs deeply and stands, tossing his coat over the fool’s prone body.
“Idiot...”
He finds himself annoyed at Charlie. She left her father lying unconscious in the middle of a battleground. Never mind that the battle was won; Lucifer was weakened and vulnerable, and Charlie forgot about him. He can imagine that she was overwhelmed by all the attention and their triumph, but... it doesn’t sit right with Alastor, that Lucifer was all but abandoned.
Alastor pauses. What a strange feeling, to be directed at Lucifer Morningstar. Alastor is no stranger to feeling protective, even possessive over the few people he holds dear. His mother. Rosie, despite her previous role as his owner. Niffty. Even Husker to some degree, because he and Niffty belong to him. Never before though has Alastor felt this way toward Lucifer. Yet he certainly feels it now. He doesn’t bother denying it.
Did it start when he saw Lucifer lying unconscious on the ground? Or before, when Vox caught Lucifer in his trap and tortured him? Or... months ago, when the foolish King of Hell wandered into his Hotel and demanded his attention, and Alastor never once looked away from him?
Alastor snarls under his breath, directing his attention back to Lucifer’s unconscious face. He glares, debating tossing the sleeping king back into his own room, then exhales and goes to fetch his cigarette and whiskey. He’ll let Lucifer sleep here.
Better to keep an eye on what Alastor considers his own. Even if Alastor doesn’t like it.
Well, it isn’t a bad thing, per se. He doesn’t want any other ambitious Overlord using Lucifer as Vox did. The fact that Vox had his hands on such a power infuriates Alastor, but he can dish out that particular revenge at a later time. For now... he needs to plan.
He doesn’t want anyone else to take advantage of Lucifer. Only Alastor is allowed to do that.