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Summary
In retrospect, perhaps Lucifer had been right when he’d suggested sitting down.
Because he doesn’t, Alastor’s knees nearly buckle underneath him as he’s told the news, which is ridiculous. His knees don’t buckle. He is not so puppeted by his emotions that he cannot keep himself upright when he is caught off guard. Furthermore, no one should ever be able to tell when he is caught off guard in the first place.
And yet.
Alastor’s fingers—moist with sweat now, when did that happen, how uncouth—tighten around the head of his cane. The temperature in Lucifer’s bedroom drops by several degrees, the lights all flicker as Alastor grits out a single, strangled, “What.”
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Lucifer is pregnant. Alastor handles it about as well as you would expect.
Series
- Part 1 of Clyde Morningstar (Radioapple Fanchild)
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