Chapter Text
Someone was knocking on his door. Again.
Was that Charlie? She came by a few hours ago to check on him but he didn’t have the energy to pretend to be all bright and chipper, as if one of the maniacs condemned to this forsaken place hadn’t bodily linked him to his doomsday machine just the other day. The crazy TV guy couldn’t have killed him in any case, and the wounds from his wires had already healed, but Lucifer had been in a shitty mood ever since and didn’t want his lovely daughter (who he had failed yet again) to see him like this. So he sent her away, saying he was just about to get some sleep, and used the same excuse with her girlfriend when she later appeared at his doorstep, asking if he was okay or needed anything. But he didn’t sleep, oh no. Instead he was holed up in his bed, wearing his favorite oversized sweater and watching soap operas, which weren’t very good but sometimes managed to get his mind off his failings as a father, ruler and cosmic being for thirty consecutive seconds. Now, that was the good stuff - and this rare moment of blissful mindnumbness got interrupted by Charlie or whoever else she sent to do her well-meaning but unwelcome bidding this time.
The messenger was very insistent, but Lucifer decided to stay quiet and see if they think he’d fallen asleep and go away. After a few moments of silence he was about to unpause the latest season of “Quackington” and continue the brainrot fair, when the all too familiar shadowy figure materialized next to his bed, complete with that infuriating grin that haunted his every waking moment.
“Why, sir, you do indeed look an absolute mess!” Alastor declared too cheerfully for someone who had been simultaneously put through the grinder by the very same sinner. It seemed the demon’s injuries had healed as fast as Lucifer’s - and his attitude had apparently recovered even faster than that. Damn him.
Lucifer turned away and covered himself with a blanket, hoping the red guy would get the memo that he was not in the mood for their verbal sparring at this moment in time. “What do you want? You aren’t allowed in here, you know. Didn’t you read the sign?”
“Yes, I must admit I quite enjoy seeing my name engraved at the Devil’s door,” Alastor suddenly appeared lounging next to him on the other side of the bed, his cheek propped in the palm of his hand, and had the nerve to wink. “But Charlie is worried about your health and wants to know if you’ll be coming down for lunch. Or dinner. Or any time this century.”
“And she sent you of all people to inquire, since you’re the local bedside manner specialist.”
“Well, someone has to actually help out around here…” the pause Alastor made was too dramatic and smug, so Lucifer saw the dig that was coming from a mile away. “… Mr. Useless.” It did still sting, though.
“Ha ha ha. Yes, I see, how the tables have turned, etc, etc. The King of Hell got tricked by some lowlife upstart, with a TV for a head no less, and was stuck in a glass box while that guy kept harassing his daughter and shooting a deadly laser all around Pentagram City.”
“Your words, not mine! It’s a sure good thing I was there to stop Vox once and for all,” Alastor looked at his fingernails, his eyelids lowered, his expression self-satisfied. The bellhop was having too much fun and this needed to stop right about now.
“Oh yeah? I hear you got mauled by his pet shark and had to be scraped off the floor, when all was said and done,” Lucifer shot him a smug grin of his own, not so cheerfully received.
“That was… an unfortunate accident,” Alastor said, his eye twitching. “At least I didn’t foolishly provide my life force for powering the absolute destruction that was wrought on the innocent inhabitants of the Pride Ring.”
“Ha! Wrong move, radio man. I don’t care about ‘innocent’ sinners - that’s Charlie’s shtick. Also, weren’t you the one having a dick-measuring overlord showdown all over the city, tearing down infrastructure and shit? If you want to fuck with me, choose your weapons more wisely.”
Putting this guy in his place was one of the few true afterlife’s pleasures left to a humble fallen angel like Lucifer, ranking somewhere below experiencing an occasional well-executed musical theater production, but definitely above binging half-baked romantic costume dramas. But why did his smile suddenly acquire that knowing air, as if he had all along expected Lucifer to say these exact words?
“I see the latest miserable display of self-loathing is over, so I’m going to tell our dearest Charlie that His Majesty the King will grace us with his presence this evening,” Alastor adjusted his monocle and stood up from the bed, to which he hadn’t been invited in the first place.
“Also! it’s kind of pathetic that you still remember the exact wording of our last argument! Get a life!”
Instead of quipping back some uninspired fancy bullshit, Alastor melted into the shadows, still wearing that self-satisfied smile. Lucifer found himself kneeling on the bed, almost about to jump after him, his blanket rumpled on the floor. When did that happen?
***
He woke up in the middle of the night from a dream that left a sour taste in his mouth. In it he was sneaking into the Garden of Eden again to meet up with Lilith, only to find her gone. Adam and Eve were still there, though, looking at him accusingly. And the cursed apple wasn’t even his idea to begin with! Lil was the one who insisted that he grant Eve the ability to choose her path in life, the knowledge to recognize Adam for what he was, the power to leave him and defy the cosmic grand design. Back then he agreed it was the right thing to do, even though deep down he was terrified that this wonderful soul, still so new to Creation, was already having her doubts about him and was about to leave him for this more exciting person, just as she left her original partner. He never found out if his fears were true or if their relationship only started to crumble after the Fall - because that was the last they saw of Eve. If Lilith had any plans of taking her under her wing, the woman clearly did not reciprocate the feminist solidarity, seeing as the first thing she used her brand new free will for was to share the fruit of knowledge with Adam. That fucking guy.
After an hour or so of trying and failing to fall back asleep, Lucifer gave up and decided to go down to the bar and make himself a drink. His plans of suffering beautifully, clad in his comfy bathrobe and proud solitude, were however thwarted by none other than the most annoying sinner this side of the Pentagram, impeccably dressed despite the late hour and waving at him from the bar stool he was lounging on. A half-finished glass of whiskey stood on the counter next to his weirdly shaped microphone, and the barman was nowhere to be seen.
“Down for a midnight snack, your majesty?”
Lucifer had had to endure that smarmy radio voice earlier in his room, and then again all throughout dinner, so if he never heard it in this century that would be too soon. Remember the peace and quiet when Alastor was absent for a whole week because he had gotten himself kidnapped by another psychotic freak? Those were the times.
“Can’t sleep. Looks like you can’t either. That TV man really did a number on you, didn’t he? Is he your ex or something?” Lucifer asked, while inspecting the available storage of liquor.
Alastor scrunched his nose in distaste. “Absolutely not! Vox just happened to develop this tragic one-sided obsession with me, which I successfully used to wrap him around my littlest finger, turn him away from his closest supporters and foil his unoriginal plans of world domination. All while tied to a chair! One of my more brilliant gambits, if I do say so myself,” he raised his glass with a celebratory flair and downed the rest of the whiskey.
Lucifer mixed himself a hellish concoction of apple cider and three or four stronger spirits with wildly clashing flavors, which had Alastor’s eyebrows rising in horror, and sat down next to him. “Uh huh, so what I’m hearing is you expect applause for leading someone on and breaking their heart, all to serve your little schemes. I mean, the guy did seem like total garbage who deserved what he got, and you yourself are a violent psychopath with far worse crimes to your name, but it’s still kinda fucked up, don’t you think? Seems out of character for this gallant gentleman persona you’ve got going on.”
Alastor narrowed his eyes, his smile turning from relaxed to contemptuous in an instant. “First of all, I wouldn’t underestimate the scale of my ‘little schemes’. Secondly, my courteous demeanor is not some sort of mask I’m wearing to make people believe I’m something other than what I appear to be, like a certain someone does with his tacky ringleader costume. And thirdly, I don’t remember doing anything that might be qualified as leading Vox - or anybody else - on. His ‘heart’, if he had ever possessed such a thing, was not some precious jewel that he gave to me only to be trampled under my feet. It was a losing card he should’ve kept well hidden if he had ever hoped to win our itty-bitty game of wits.”
During this villain monologue Alastor kept moving closer, so that now his face was just inches away from Lucifer’s, who found himself mesmerized by the demon’s bright red eyes and sharp teeth. The scornful tone of his static-laden voice, too, suddenly became appealing. All sure signs of the copious amounts of alcohol Lucifer just swallowed hitting his last two braincells.
“So this is just a game to you, huh?”
“Everything is a game. You either win or you lose, and crying over broken hearts definitely sounds like something a sore loser would do to justify their failure.”
They stared at each other. Was that a veiled dig at him crying over his own tragic relationship or was Lucifer overthinking it?
“You’re one sadistic motherfucker.”
As his smile turned pleasant again, Alastor snapped his fingers and a bottle appeared on the counter between them.
“Let’s drink to that.”
***
As promised, the hotel was filling up with more sinners than Charlie could have ever dreamt. By the looks of it, even more than the objectively impressive and classy building Lucifer had helped create would be able to house - and all of them suspect individuals sentenced to eternal damnation for their sins. Why, some of them might be even worse than the egomaniacal nutcase who had just tried to harm his daughter and her philanthropic passion project.
“It looks like somebody doesn’t seem to be able to handle the crowds very well.”
That. fucking. voice.
“Are you stalking me or something?”
If that narcissistic deer was counting on him being spooked, Lucifer would sure as fuck not give him the satisfaction of even acting surprised.
“No! As I might have mentioned once or twice, I happen to be the host of this hotel, and graciously greeting new guests as they arrive to our fine establishment is one of my duties,” Alastor declared in a sing-song voice, gesticulating expansively, as if eccentric hotelier was the role of a lifetime and he was finally let out on stage to perform it. While Lucifer, slumped against the railing next to the staircase, his head propped on his elbow, was clearly a less than appreciative audience.
“Funny how you tend to pick and choose what is part of your ‘hotel host’ duties and what i-”
“Duties, which, might I add, aren’t made any easier by the King of Hell, or whatever your official title is these days, looming over the entrance like a gargoyle and glaring at everyone, like they pissed into his royal porridge.”
“Well, maybe I don’t like that this scum of the earth will now be sharing a living space with my daughter! I mean, I know she believes in them, and I support her, and some of them might genuinely have come here to become better people or whatever, but that does not change the fact that sinners are dangerous and I can’t do anything to stop anyone who decides that redemption sucks ass and violence is, in fact, the answer!”
This unscheduled outburst of honesty was met with the sharpening of Alastor’s ever-present smile, as he bent his neck to the side in curiosity.
“Why, this little issue can be easily remedied! I can humbly volunteer my services to ensure that Charlie is safe and sound at all times. Why don’t we make a deal?”
“Oh, don’t you even try it,” Lucifer waved Alastor’s outstretched hand away, as the latter chuckled. “How did you know that I can’t harm sinners, by the way? Did the TV guy tell you that?”
“Can neither confirm, nor deny,” the sinner hummed smugly, “but you’re welcome to keep guessing.”
Lucifer sighed. As far as infernal punishment went, Alastor was the most exasperating, insufferable, downright torturous thing that happened to him ever since the whole “your wife left and your daughter stopped talking to you” debacle. And yet, now that the dumb red loudspeaker seemed to be done with his latest episode of bothering the Devil and was about to exit the scene, Lucifer found himself unwilling to return to seething in self-imposed isolation. He grasped for something to say to keep their banter going for a few more rounds, when Charlie burst onto the staircase landing, clearly having run over here all the way from her room.
“Mom- I just sent her another message- I kinda gave up on expecting- but she-” Charlie was gasping for breath and trying to say several things at the same time, so none of them could understand anything.
Lucifer rushed to her, but her girlfriend was already there, holding Charlie by the shoulders and telling her to breathe slowly and calm down, which his daughter did, to a limited success.
“Now you can tell us what happened in a simple sentence with few words,” Vaggi said. It was clearly not the first time she was managing this sort of situation. Nice to know Charlie was in good hands, even if it meant she had no need for him anymore.
Charlie breathed in deeply one more time and announced the news he least expected to hear on an otherwise unremarkable Thursday afternoon.
“Mom just called me and she says she’s coming back.”