Chapter Text
The Hazbin Hotel was finally quiet.
Just the hush of cooling neon, the faint hum of wards resetting themselves, and the distant clatter of Husk somewhere being aggressively over a task he assigned himself for no reason.
Lucifer stood in the lobby like he didn’t know where he was supposed to be—hands behind his back, shoulders drawn up, posture carefully arranged to look Very Casual and Not At All Like a Man Who Nearly Got Pureed by an Evil Microwave.
Charlie padded in from the hallway, still in her post-battle pajamas, hair messy, eyes soft.
“Oh! Dad… you’re still here.”
Lucifer tensed even further, which really shouldn’t have been physically possible. “Am I not supposed to be? I can not be. I mean—if you don’t want me here, I don’t have to be here. No, wait, that’s not—what I mean is… yes?”
Charlie rushed forward, hands fluttering. “No, no! That’s not what I meant. I just— I wasn’t expecting—” She trailed off, cheeks pink.
Lucifer cleared his throat, gaze darting to a chandelier like it had suddenly become a fascinating new species. He latched onto the safest topic he could find. “Yes, well. The hotel is… uh… doing quite well, I hear. Post-whatever-just-happened. Very stable. Very impressive. Very proud of you. Yes.”
He kept his smile bright, harmless, feather-light—like if he pushed any harder, something inside him might crack.
Charlie nodded. “Thanks. We’ve… really come together lately.”
“Mm-hm. Yes. Togetherness. Bonding. Totally unrelated to any… traumatic battery events or—” He wafted a hand vaguely through the air. “—other things we are not discussing.”
A beat.
Lucifer stilled—just for a moment—and the joking, fluttery façade slipped clean away. “You do know I’m proud of you, right, duck?” he said, quiet and sincere.
Charlie nodded, then shifted—half turning toward the hallway… stopping… turning back again. Hesitating.
“Dad?”
Lucifer perked like a startled cat. “Yes! I mean. Yes?”
Be cool, Lou. Be cool. You survived cosmic annihilation; surely you can survive a conversation with your own daughter. Control the face. CONTROL. THE. FACE.
She stepped back toward him, fidgeting with her sleeves. “I… I didn’t say this earlier. I should have. I was stressed, and scared, and trying so hard to hold everything together, and I…”
She swallowed—voice going small, too honest. “I took it out on you. And I’m really, really sorry.”
Lucifer’s brain went blank except for a single shrieking neon sign:
BE COOL.
This is what you wanted. This is the moment. Just—just nod. Say something suave. Don’t cry. Don’t—
A tear fell.
Then another.
Then he made a noise that was intended to be dignified but emerged as a choked, wobbling honk.
Charlie blinked. “Dad—?”
And Lucifer launched.
Not aggressively—just immediately, overwhelmingly, all at once. He folded her into his arms, as if by holding her close he could make the world disappear, keep her safe from the chaos of they had just endured.
“My BABY—” he sobbed, clinging with all the strength of a man who absolutely did not stick the landing on cool. “Of COURSE I forgive you—oh gods—I’m so PROUD—so PROUD of my BRAVE LITTLE DUCK!”
Charlie laughed, startled but warm, hugging him back. “Dad—Dad, it’s okay—it’s really okay—”
He nodded into her shoulder dramatically, tears soaking through her shirt. “It’s MORE than okay! It’s WONDERFUL! IT’S—oh no, now I’m crying harder—don’t look at me—”
Her fingers curled into the back of his coat. “I love you too,” she whispered, like it was something she’d been holding onto all day.
Lucifer froze again.
Then sobbed louder.