Chapter Text
In the aftermath of Vox’s attempt on Heaven, things were…quiet. Focus had been on rebuilding what had been wrecked, helping the demons that had been injured during the fight, making amends. The Vees had been imprisoned until a trial could be held by both Heaven and Hell’s courts. Charlie had been proven right, and her name cleared – and the hotel had been reopened! Sinners had popped up, checking in for all the right reasons.
The dust had settled. Wrongs were being righted, apologies given out, forgiveness being given.
And yet…
Lucifer couldn’t shake the cold dread that weighed on his shoulders. He sat on a bed of dark green blankets and sheets, staring at the dark walls around him. Bones placed so carefully, picture frames of people he didn’t know hung on the walls, pictures of the hotel staff stuck into the sides of an ornate mirror in the corner of the room. The dark gloom of a forest stretching out from the boundaries of the walls. Wind that smelled of moss and damp earth. An impossible space, a kind of permanent magic that thrummed with power.
And yet.
Alastor lay still and cold in the bed, hands folded over his chest. For all that power, all that strength, that will to bend reality to his whims…and he wouldn’t wake up. Sometimes Lucifer would catch glimmers of green light, crackling around those folded hands, or hear whispers of static. But the deer remained unmoving, breathing raspy and shallow.
“It’s been two weeks, Bambi.” He whispered, knowing there would be no response. “Come back to me, please.”
For a moment, static buzzed, harsh and grating. His head whipped around, hope surging in his chest – but no. No pink eyes looked back at him, that smile was still a pained grimace; Alastor was not awake. Just another momentary noise to show he was still alive, still in pain.
Lucifer buried his face in his hands, wishing he had some way to wake him…
“Hey, Charlie!” Emily swept in through a portal, holding a basket of goods. Abel followed her, also holding a basket.
“Emily! Oh my gosh we haven’t seen you since-” Charlie rushed forward, gathering the small seraphim up into her arms. Her embrace was gentle, loose, and she let go after only a moment. She remembered the injuries Emily had taken, helping them during Vox’s rebellion. “How are you? Is your…”
Emily smiled, expression a little sad but still somehow so, so bright and cheerful. “Angelic energy…can’t regenerate limbs lost to it, y’know…but its ok! I got this prosthetic, and it works really well and I can even fly already! I’m fine, really, totally.”
“Oooh…you look great with gold, at least.” Charlie tried to be just as optimistic, smiling. “…I’m sorry it happened, though. None of this should have happened.”
“…I guess. But…it’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known what that Vox guy was planning, and…and I would sacrifice myself a hundred times over, anyway! My life wasn’t any more important than the demons we were saving.”
“Oh, speaking of demon we – Emily and you I mean – saved, where’s that uh…creepy red guy?” Abel spoke up, handing off his basket to Vaggie.
“Oh…um…” Charlie froze, mouth open; words would not come out. Talking about Alastor’s condition made it feel so much more…permanent. Like saying it out loud would forever doom him to never waking up…she knew it didn’t work like that, but the fear still sat in her stomach like a heavy rock.
“Alastor hasn’t woken up since he passed out.” Thankfully, Husk had no such hesitation. The cat demon had come over with Angel Dust to greet them, arms crossed over his chest. “Kind of glad, honestly. I don’t gotta listen to him –“
“Hey, we talked ‘bout this.” Angel nudged him, voice gentle but firm. “Don’t start that again. He was gonna die for us all, whiskers, cut him a lil slack, ok? I know you don’t like him but he ain’t half bad.”
“…whatever.”
Emily and Abel just stared, mouths hanging open. The basket in the young seraphim’s arms slipped from her grip and crashed into the floor, packages rolling across the floor; something glass broke. She made no move to clean it up, only bringing her hands to her face, tears welling up in her eyes.
“…c…can we see him? Please, Charlie.”
The darkness was…oppressive. It pressed in at all sides, snuffing out every light. It was silent, devoid of anything. There wasn’t even static. No buzz, no white noise, not a single crackle.
Just…darkness. He was drowning in it. Sinking below the surface, unable to kick back up out of the dark; no matter how much he struggled, how much he fought, it simply wasn’t enough. And what, really, was he fighting so hard to get back to? And endless circling of insults and banter? A job he hated and wasn’t needed anymore? The string of reporters undoubtedly waiting to pounce on him the moment it was known he was awake.
It wasn’t like there would be anyone waiting…
…and although that thought echoed across his mind, he kept fighting. Kept kicking, fighting the darkness even as it tried to suffocate him.
The more progress he made, the more he could hear something disturbing the silence, a voice, soft and angelic and so horribly sorrowful. He couldn’t hear the words, only the voice itself. But it was so, achingly familiar. It pulled at his very soul, pulling him upwards…
He had to free himself of this dreadful place, quickly.
“…he looks so…small.” Emily didn’t approach, hands clasped to her chest, Abel standing at her side like an awkwardly quiet shadow. Lucifer had moved away from the bed to allow them to see Alastor.
He still wasn’t awake.
“We’re…hoping he’ll wake up soon. But…” Charlie trailed off, anxiously wringing her hands.
“His injuries were extensive, even more so than what we had thought.” Lucifer finished for her, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his daughter’s arm. She smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes. He tried to smile back, but his face just wouldn’t obey. Instead, he dropped the attempt. “He lost a lot of blood, and his wounds aren’t…healing very well. Being so exposed to angelic energy can do that to a sinner.”
“Oh.” Emily finally stepped forward, gingerly touching the very edge of the bed. She stared down at Alastor, at the red hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. Looking around, she found the basin of cold water, and the clean rag next to it, and was quick to dip the rag in, and lay it over his forehead with the utmost gentleness.
“…I’m sorry.” The young seraphim stepped back, suddenly feeling a heavy weight on her shoulders. Was this her fault? Was this sinner laying here, caught in a limbo, because she hadn’t been able to get Sera to agree to help Charlie quickly enough? She didn’t try hard enough. She wasn’t strong enough.
“It wasn’t your fault, Emily.” Lucifer tried, the devil coming up beside her. He sat on the bed, careful not to disturb the demon sleeping in it. “…if anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
“Dad –“
“Lucifer –“
“Don’t. I know it’s my fault, girls. I was…needlessly cruel to him, I was hostile. I constantly pushed his boundaries, I…I pushed him out. Right into that…fucking boxheaded – this is my fault.” There was no need for it, but Lucifer still reached out to adjust the blankets, more securely tucking it around Alastor’s thing frame. If his hands lingered over dark arms, and gently brushed curls away from that smiling face, no one confronted him over it.
Emily wondered just what was between them.
“…I’m still sorry. He doesn’t deserve this as his ending.” Emily tucked her wings close to herself, suppressing the sick urge to shiver at the feeling of the prosthetic against her back. “I hope he wakes up. I…I’ll ask Sera if there’s anything we can do.”
“Come on, Em.” Abel spoke up, gently tugging on her arm. “Let’s go back and give uh – Mr. Morningstar some space.”
“…ok. Ok.” Emily wanted to stay, wanted to say more, but…what was there more to say? One could not wake someone from a sleep like this with mere words and well wishes.
“…thanks for coming by.” Lucifer glanced up at them as they were leaving, this sad smile on his face. “I’m sure if he was awake, he would appreciate your concern.”
Now alone, Lucifer could crawl up to the spot next to Alastor, curling up here with his hand over the deer’s chest. He could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, as shallow as it was, and it gave him a small fraction of comfort. The knowledge that he was alive was enough.
…even if he wanted those eyes to open so, so badly.
“I would give anything for you to wake up, Alastor. I don’t care if you insulted me,” He started, a soft whisper in the quiet room. “Told me I was ugly, loud, abrasive, stupid…I don’t care if you get up and hit me for laying here, or bite me, or throw things at me or – or…”
He sighed, moving his hand to gingerly curl his fingers around one of the still, crimson stained hands. They were cold, so, so cold, but he held on anyway. The devil inched closer, until he could press his forehead against a soft, furry shoulder. This close, he could practically count the pale white freckles. Alastor still smelled of pine and dirt, but also the sharp tang of medicine and menthol. It reminded him of before, after the fight with Adam…
The way Alastor would constantly provoke him, push and poke and prod until Lucifer was at his throat. He knew now why – the curse of touch, the burns – but back then…he had just thought that the deer was an abrasive asshole.
Lucifer’s eyes wandered, going up the long arch of Alastor’s neck; the burns there weren’t so severe anymore, he could barely see them anymore. His gaze moved along, over the smiling lips, that soft slope of a deer nose, to the closed eyes. The freckles on his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead. Alastor was…he had this haunting kind of beauty. Maybe not the kind that one would see in magazines or on TV, but the kind that haunted dreams, drifted through a mirage like a ghost.
The kind of beauty that takes your breath and then takes your life in one fell swoop.
…and Hell, maybe he would let Alastor take his life. Let him hold his heart and soul in his hands, let him sink golden teeth into his very being and feast on it like he had many others. He would let him be greedy, let him take and take and take…even if the sinner’s affections were to kill him, it would be a most glorious way to go. Loved to death! Held while the last of his blood drained, caressed as his lungs stopped pulling in air. Kissed until his heart stopped beating. Would it not be next to heavenly, to die like that?
Lucifer was gentle, lifting his hand so very carefully to trace the sharp angles of Alastor’s jaw. “If you would just wake up, I would let you do anything to me. Anything! I wouldn’t be mad. I wouldn’t…yell at you or insult you or fight back…I’d just be so happy that you were awake at all. I just want to hear your voice again, regardless of what you say to me.”
His fingers ghosted over the chin, the soft cheek, pausing to feel the warm breath that slipped out from parted lips. A thought, a want, flickered across his mind.
But it was – no, he couldn’t. It was wrong! He couldn’t – even if he wanted to…he’s married. Perhaps things would be different in another life, another story, but in this one, Alastor wasn’t awake, and Lucifer was a married man.
Lucifer lifted his hand, stared at the ring that glimmered there…and thought, again, about how…he wasn’t really married anymore, was he? He slid the ring off, watching the way the gold band shone in the light. Once, a very long time ago, putting this on had meant everything to him. A young marriage, one so full of hope…only to find out later it was a trap. A cup of poisoned wine, destined only to hurt him in the end.
He dropped his hand to his chest, clutching that ring.
“Alastor…” Why was he still talking to this…this annoying loudspeaker? It wasn’t like he could hear him…though maybe that’s why Lucifer kept talking. “It’s so silly, you know? With Lilith, it always…felt like I needed to be smaller. Quieter. Keep my head down, hide away what I was. She wanted someone that I wasn’t anymore. I don’t know why I kept trying to make her happy, she was never happy. Not with me.”
Soft static filled the air as he spoke, and Lucifer decided to pretend that Alastor was listening to him. It made it…easier for him to say this.
“I think Charlie being born made it even worse. I know, maybe saying that makes me a terrible father. But Lilith got…colder. Meaner. She hated me and didn’t hide it anymore. I…I think…I hope that she loves Charlie. Loved?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to make his thoughts make sense. “I never knew why she left, you know. One day she was just…gone. As if she was never there. Like our entire life meant absolutely nothing! I would’ve…understood why she left, if she had just talked to me. I would’ve understood and let her go. She didn’t need to leave Charlie, too, if it was just me that she hated.”
“But she never talked to me. I wasn’t worth her time, I guess, unless she could get what she wanted out of it. It wasn’t ever me she wanted, though. Not the me I am now, I mean. The one from before. She wanted angel Lucifer. Good Lucifer! I’m not…that’s not me, anymore.” Once again, he held the ring up, stared at it, at the stars etched into the inner band.
Once a promise to each other to the stars and back, now only a reminder that even a star could burn alone.
…or maybe not.
“…but you…you came at me with everything you had. You didn’t care for who I was before, you didn’t ask me to be someone I wasn’t. Never once did you ask me to hide. You wanted me. Who I am right now, you wanted that Lucifer. You said it yourself, didn’t you? That you just wanted to belong, to belong with me. I mean…” The devil laughed, delighting in how the static crackled, as if it too were laughing with him. “You were losing a lot of blood. Maybe you didn’t really mean it.”
The static dipped, almost went out, and then suddenly it was so, so…not loud. Not grating. But it was so very there, surrounding him. Filling the room with a wonderful white noise; Lucifer swore if he closed his eyes, listened closely, he could hear notes of music hidden in the static.
He hummed, trying to catch those notes. But they were far too brief, too fleeting to really get a grasp on them. They sounded familiar, though.
“I hope you meant it.” He turned his head, eyes still closed, resting his head against a thin shoulder. “Because I’d like to know what it feels like, to belong to someone who actually wants me. I don’t know if it’s love…but I…I really want it to be. I want to…”
Lucifer trailed off, opening his eyes. The static was a constant, now, low and soft and comforting. He sat up, wondering if he was so sleep deprived that he was hallucinating it now. Because the last two weeks, the static had always been fleeting. There for a few seconds, and then gone. But this…it was a constant buzz. It prickled at the nape of his neck, like fingers ghosting over his skin.
…if the static wasn’t going away –
“You talk a lot.”
Lucifer snapped around, staring in shock at Alastor. His pink eyes were open, a little hazy, but open and looking at him – “Alastor?”
“Hm. Hi.” His voice was rough, hoarse and raspy from going without use for two weeks. Lucifer didn’t care at all. He rushed to reach for him, hesitating, and then gently cupping Alastor’s face. The deer tilted his head into touch, eyes falling shut again.
“Hey….hi…oh my god, oh…you’re awake – you are, right?” Lucifer blinked hard, resisting the hot pressure of tears threatening to well up. “…how long have you been awake?”
“I would give anything for you to wake up, Alastor.”
That voice, again. Clear enough he could hear the words. Such sweet, sentimental words, spilling a confession of darkness and light for no one but him to hear, to cling to like a lifeline.
“I’d just be so happy that you were awake at all. I just want to hear your voice again, regardless of what you say to me.”
He clawed harder, kicked with more energy, fighting with everything in him to get to that voice. To wake up like it begged him to.
“It wasn’t ever me she wanted, though.”
He wants you! He wants you, everything you’d give him, he will take. But he would give and give and give. Oh, he would give you the world, as soon as he could get out of this dark limbo he was caught in.
Lucifer. Yes, Lucifer, the man – the devil – with the golden eyes, the one that smelled so sweet and light, the ones whose hands gave him so much. He would sink his teeth in and never let go.
“Never once did you ask me to hide. You wanted me. Who I am right now, you wanted that Lucifer.”
Of course he did. He had never met someone who moved with such grace, such ethereal beauty. The pale skin, the soft-as-feathers hair, the smell of sweet apples. The duck obsession, the love of musicals and old plays, the sass and snark and even that cold cruelty that hid beneath a seemingly sweet and shy façade. He wanted all of it.
“I don’t know if it’s love…but I…I really want it to be. I want to…”
He wants it to be love, too. Or at least as close as someone like him is allowed to have.
“Long enough.” Alastor sat up, slow and sluggish. Lucifer reached out to steady him, grabbing a pillow to shove behind his back to give him some support.
“Oh.” The devil didn’t look at him, staring at his hands, the blankets, anything that wasn’t the deer. “…should I…leave, then?”
“What?” He blinked, surprised. All that talking and he thinks Alastor would throw him out now? Was he embarrassed? Did he…not mean what he had said? “I…unless you want to leave, you…don’t have to go.”
It was awkward silence for a long moment.
Lucifer rolled a ring between his fingers, a golden band with stars etched into the inner band. Alastor watched, remembering the talk about how Lilith had treated him, how the marriage had not been a healthy one. How could it be? She had up and left without a word to her husband and child.
How someone could do that was beyond him. Leave? Maybe. He had walked away from his fair share of people. But leave without a word and let those he cared about wonder what happened? Only if he’d been forced to.
“I meant it.”
“Wh-what?” Lucifer stopped, finally looking up at Alastor.
“I meant it. When I…said I wanted to belong.” It was Alastor’s turn to look away, feeling his face flush. He picked at the threads in the blanket, considering his words. He was never very good at words. “…I hated you when I met you.”
“Wow, ok, great start.” Lucifer snorted, but there was no malice, no venom in his voice.
“Shut up.” Alastor snipped back, but a warm amusement crept in the static. “Hated. Past tense. It…faded fast. The way you touched me…held my hand…that night in the kitchen.”
“…I remember. You were…making food. Zucchini bread – burned yourself on that kettle you grabbed off the stove. I thought you were being stupid.”
“Hm…I was, a little. You caught me off guard, and…when you touched me to look a the burn, I realized your hands didn’t burn me. In a world where I can’t touch others without being hurt, your hands did not hurt me.” Alastor shook his head. “It did something to me. To…how I felt about things.”
“Sooo…is that why you started bullying me?”
“Well, that and you were amusing when mad at me. But…yes. I wanted you to…I wanted to feel without getting burned. And I-I didn’t…I didn’t know how to ask. I’ve never asked anyone for…comfort like that before.”
Alastor pulled his legs up slowly, grimacing at the soreness in his muscles. He rubbed over his legs, easing away that ache.
“…keep going. I want to know.” Lucifer leaned over him, his words barely there, just a whisper against his ear. Alastor shivered, then perked up when the devil leaned back out of his personal space to hand him a bottle of water and a bottle of painkillers. He was quick to down the water and a chalky pill, face scrunching at the bitter taste.
He took another sip of water, trying to wash the taste out of his mouth, and continued in a hoarse whisper. “I should have talked to you. Told you what was…going on in my head. But a lifetime of running from people, years of only ever having myself, being able to trust on only me…perhaps it results in this…whatever this is. This inability to admit when you need help. When you need someone.”
“You’re doing it now, at least. That counts for something, doesn’t it?” Lucifer smiled at him, a real one. He sat so close Alastor could smell the sweet, crisp scent of apples and something clean, warm. Like soft linens folded in a basket and left in the sunlight.
“Perhaps.”
“…I’m sorry. I’ve hurt you, and said horrible things to you that I don’t know how to take back.”
“Lucifer,”
“No!” Lucifer shushed him, soft voice echoing strangely in the room, cutting through the deer’s static. “No, I’m…I need to apologize. I realized my growing feelings. I realized I didn’t hate you, but…instead of being smart about it I…I got mean. I tried to squash my feelings by being a jerk to you.”
“You weren’t really that bad.”
“Please don’t lie to me. Not now. Not after everything we went through.”
Alastor looked away, drummed his fingers on the bottle. “…your words…hurt me. In a way I thought couldn’t hurt me anymore. Although I should have expected it.”
“…expected that I’d hurt you?”
“You are the devil.” Alastor laughed, leaning back into the pillows. His head felt heavy, and he knew it was the painkillers, the being unconscious for two weeks, and he really should probably eat something…but that would cut this conversation short. “…but don’t worry about it, my dear.”
Lucifer frowned, a worry still etched into the lines of his face, the exhausted creases and bags under his eyes. Alastor swallowed past the lump in his throat and reached over to grasp the devil’s hand.
Softly, he murmured, “Please, my king, consider yourself forgiven. We have both acted…improperly.”
Lucifer’s face flushed gold, but he nodded, holding the deer’s hand tightly. Rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb, touch light and gentle. Just as softly as Alastor, he replied, “Maybe we should start over, then? If I walk out and walk back in, can we pretend its love at first sight or something cliché like that?”
“You would like cliché.” Alastor laughed, but he leaned close, traced the lines of the devil’s face with his eyes. Memorized it like it was the last time he’d see it. “Maybe you should do that. It would make me laugh at the very least.”
“Pfft, nah…maybe we should go with a different cliché.”
Lucifer looked down at his other hand, opening it to stare at the little band of gold sitting in his palm. Once, it had been the beginning of a marriage he’d never be happy in. But now? Maybe…
He held Alastor’s hand, ran his thumb over the knuckles. His hands were thin, bony, the fingers long and slim. A glimmer of magic, resizing that gold band silently. Adding something to it, something new. And then he offered the ring to Alastor, like one would offer something to a shrine.
“…Lucifer, are you –“
“No. I’m not proposing to you.” He was quick to stop that. But then he squeezed Alastor’s hand, smiling at him, almost feeling shy. “But it’s a promise. To really give this a shot, give…us my all. I don’t know if I’m…if I’m ready for that. To commit again to someone, who I barely know. But I want to know you. I want to know everything about you. What side you like to sleep on, your favorite color, what you eat when you’re sick, what your favorite season is, if you…like to read and what kind of books you like…everything. Anything. Until I can trace who you are n the marrow of my own bones.”
“…you’re giving me a promise ring.” Alastor almost sounded…shy. He looked shy. There was this dark red blush to his face, it made his freckles really pop, made his eyes so, so pink…Lucifer felt like he could drown in those eyes, and wondered if Alastor would allow him to.
“You could call it that, yeah…do you…not want it –“
“I didn’t say that.” And he plucked the ring out of Lucifer’s hand, as if the devil would take it back. He paused, didn’t put it on right away. He lifted the ring up, looked at the inner band…and his smile grew soft, fond. “Really?”
“What? It felt fitting. Want me to change it?”
“Hmmm…no. I like it.” And Alastor slid the ring onto his hand, on his pointer finger, not his ring finger. It wasn’t a proposal, after all. Maybe in a few years’ time, it’ll change location. For now, this was good. A promise. A deal to try and make it, to make something real and good and strong. Lucifer felt…good about this.
“Hey…” Alastor hummed, leaning in so close Lucifer could feel the static that buzzed on the deer’s skin.
“Hi.” Lucifer felt shy, strange, but he lifted his hand to run his hand through red hair, still damp from sweat. “You need a shower. You smell like sweat and blood.”
“How romantic of you.” Alastor snorted, tilting his head into that warm, wonderful hand. “I also need to eat. I am starving. Could I take you out for dinner?”
“Oh, yes, I know a great place. Called you stay in bed, and I’ll bring you dinner, and we eat together. When you’re better, I’ll take you on a real date. Best you’ve ever been on, Bambi.”
“I’m looking forward to it, my king.”