Chapter Text
”So where we headed, Bambi?” asked the shorter blond demon as they walked out of the lobby doors.
“Someplace I think you’ll find very enjoyable,” replied Alastor, tapping the end of his cane on the ground with the intent to shadow portal then there.
“Shit, uh, that doesn’t really work on me. Angelic being, made of light and fire, remember?” said Lucifer, when nothing happened.
“Well, in that case…” said Alastor, now unsure how they were to travel the distance. “I intended to take us to this lovely theatre a friend of mine runs. I could use the entertainment, and I figured why not invite you? I had a feeling you were feeling averse to television after meeting the man behind every single one of those accursed things in hell, so it would be a nice change.”
“Well, that’s… thoughtful. Where is it?” asked Lucifer, looking mildly surprised by this thoughtful suggestion.
“Right outside the bounds of Cannibal Town and just a bit close to the Industrial District. This friend of mine has a hobby of collecting the spare parts.”
“Alright then,” said Lucifer, summoning his wings, horns, and tail, putting one arm under Alastor’s legs, and another to support the taller demons back, and took off. He heard a very loud screech and looked down at Alastor, who was obviously having a negative reaction to this impromptu flight. “Oh, right, sorry. I should have warned you. I just thought this would be the fastest way to get there.” Lucifer chuckled awkwardly, trying to mask how he felt about accidentally breaching Alastor’s space. “Do you, uh, want me to put you down or are you… good?”
Alastor forced himself to relax, but he still gripped the microphone tightly for fear of damaging it again.
“Oh, I’m alright, Your Majesty. No, you’re quite correct, we would miss the show if we waited for a car or walked,” he said, keeping that smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes on his face, reminding himself this contact was absolutely necessary. Obviously, Lucifer was not the same as Vox, and far too pathetically devoted to his missing wife for this to mean anything.
“Are you sure? Don’t worry, this will be quick,” said Lucifer, flying faster toward the general direction of Cannibal Town. Alastor had one hand awkwardly clutching at the King’s shoulder to keep himself from plummeting. Goodness, he really is made of fire and light,” thought Alastor. It was exceptionally fuzzy and warm near their touching chests, similar to the very scant moments when he allowed Charlie to hug him. This must be what being close to an angel feels like.
“Are we close yet, Bambi?” asked Lucifer, who didn’t know what the building looked like, and was semi-distracted by the tufts of hair from Alastor’s ears touching his cheek. He couldn’t help but ruminate about this: Alastor must’ve thought he was an absolute jackass for touching him without asking first. He must’ve looked stupid doing the first thing that popped into his brain. I’m such an idiot, I never do anything right. Why can’t I be fucking normal? Someone please strangle me, he thought to himself.
“Why, yes we are, my dear. It’s the octagonal one down there, with the ivory roof painted in purple designs,” said Alastor, pointing it out with the hand holding his cane. There was a small crown if people entering, probably to see the play.
“Okay, I see it,” he said, starting to descend but then stopping. “I should land us somewhere nobody can see us, right? Cuz, I just realised, this could look kind of weird.”
“Yes, I do think that would be preferred, Your Majesty,” said Alastor, his voice teasing but only to mask the embarrassment.
“Yeah, I, uh, thought so,” he said, setting them down behind the building across the street. He put Alastor down gently, got rid of his horns, wings, and tail, and readjusted his top hat. “So what’s playing anyway?” he asked, walking out from behind the building with the deer, who was now smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat.
“This lovely little musical called ‘The Great Quacksby’,” said Alastor, walking through the purple velvet ropes to the VIP entrance without waiting for Lucifer’s response.