Chapter Text
Alastor hated being touched. Absolutely hated it. He hissed, ducked, flinched and sidestepped anyone that reached out for him; worse reactions had him biting, kicking, or slapping others aside if they startled him enough. Always played off as not wanting anyone's filthy hands to sully his coat. Brushing himself off and sighing with every scene. He was a powerful enough sinner and overlord that not many questioned it and simply accepted that the Radio Demon did not like being touched. However...
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be touched. Alastor craved that connection, to sit by someone, to be close enough to feel the warmth of their skin. To feel their hand in his, to dance with someone again. To be so comfortable with someone else that he could have something. To be wanted. Seen. To be known by someone else, actually known.
But it seemed, in hell, because he wanted that one thing so badly, he couldn’t have it. A curse to never be close to another being.
All physical contact burned.
A hand, a strike, a simple shoulder bumping into his - anything – when anyone touched him, his skin felt like it was burning. Sometimes there would even be blistered marks on his body later. While they faded fast and left no scars behind, it still hurt. Still ached terribly to see hand shaped marks on his body, burned into the fur and skin, and know that being with someone would only be pain and misery.
Of course he never shared this, told no one. Why would he ever tell people about a horrible, easily exploitable weakness of his? That would be asking for someone to do something. To torment him with what he wanted so, so badly but could never have without pain; so Alastor kept quiet, gritted his teeth through the pain and pretended everything was fine. Smiled through it all. Like always.
Some people were worth the pain and the blisters, of course.
Charlie, Nifty, Rosie…they were worth the pain, to be able to reach for them and provide comfort and support, even if it caused his hands to crack and bleed from the burning.
Though Alastor couldn’t bear to tell them, either. Why worry them with what they can’t fix? He was fine; it would only hurt them too if they knew their hugs and silly hand holding and affection burned his skin. He was doing just fine coping with the pain.
…except he really wasn’t. Alastor had a breaking point, and he was speeding towards it faster than Angel Dust at a hard drink.
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The first time he had met Lucifer, he found the devil to be…annoying. A frustrating disturbance forced upon him and the peace of the hotel. A loud, flashy and uncoordinated dead beat who couldn’t be bothered to keep up with what his own daughter was doing. Alastor had disliked him immediately. Challenged him by praising Charlie and claiming to be the better option; Lucifer taking that bait and reacting to him only proved the devil’s flaws to the demon.
It all provoking Lucifer into agreeing to help Charlie was a nice touch, at least. The man had maybe one whole redeeming quality under all that awkward fumbling!
As the king of hell left to set up the meeting with Heaven, Alastor never noticed how his skin had not burned at his touch...
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The second time they interacted, it was while Charlie was in Heaven, meeting with the higher angels. Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb had taken everyone else out to a club – Consent was a strange name for a place to dance – but Alastor had chosen to stay at the hotel.
It was a rare day, after all, when he had full access to the kitchen and no one to pop in and mess with his order. He could turn up the radio and hum along to jazz from different eras, could twirl and tap his hooves against the tile floor to the beat and not a single soul could see and tease him for it. Out of his normal clothes and in something comfortable – still a nice button up and black slacks, but the slacks had slits on the inside of the legs, giving his hooves clearance, and the shirt was loose and soft.
An outfit he’d never dream of wearing outside of these walls, really. But comfortable and breathable, nonetheless.
Sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Alastor was deep into the music, humming along. Not cooking, not actively anyway – most everything was just a matter of waiting now. Rice was in the rice cooker Vaggie insisted on (that Alastor still thought was silly but used anyway), potatoes were in the oven, baking, and a pot of soup base was simmering on the stove top.
Alastor was just waiting on tea to steep at that moment while he sliced freshly baked zucchini bread. The loaf was still warm, but he really couldn’t wait. Always the hungry one, the demon couldn’t wait. Besides, butter melted better when the bread was hot.
And then a migraine in the shape of a person came through the kitchen doors, ruining that first bite of bread and butter.
“Oh. I thought all you sinners went out.” Lucifer paused in the door, coat folded over his arm. His facial expression was one of disgust and hatred, seeing Alastor standing in the kitchen.
Alastor was just staring, leaning over the counter and mouth full of bread. All the little motions he’d been making to the music slowed to a halt, and the music itself faded to tense, uncomfortable static.
After a moment, he swallowed and stood straight. Frazzled but hiding it. “The others went out for a time, but its not really my type of party. What are you doing here?”
“Hm, not beating around the bush, huh?” Lucifer stepped into the kitchen fully, letting the door swing shut. “I just uuuh wanted to check out the hotel again! Make sure its all up to code. Maybe fix that balcony – its much too unsafe. Someone could go right over!”
“I like that balcony as it is.” Alastor snipped, “It adds character.”
“Haha, its adds a potential safety risk.”
“It gives the building old charm.”
“More like –“
“Could you just leave already?” Alastor broke first, not wanting to argue endlessly with this useless man. He just wanted to eat bread and sip his – TEA. Oh, heavens, he’d forgotten his tea. He turned away to grab the kettle, ignoring the slight burn from the handle. Taking the teapot off the stove, the deer grumbled to himself as he poured the steaming liquid into the waiting mug. He hoped the taste wouldn’t be too off…
“Uhh, oh, fuck, are you good?” Lucifer was at his side, far too close, peering at Alastor’s hands.
“What now?” Alastor barely glanced at him, stirring honey into his mug of tea.
“You grabbed that without an oven mitt. That had to have hurt – let me see.” Lucifer gripped the demon’s arm, causing the latter to hiss sharp static at him.
“Oh, lord, I’m fine. Let go of me.” He yanked his arm away; and then froze. His skin didn’t hurt. Lucifer had grabbed him, and it didn’t hurt. Why didn’t it hurt? Anyone else and his skin would be burning like his hand, and yet…
Alastor’s pause gave Lucifer the break to grab for and examine Alastor’s hands. And he just let him, staring with a shocked, strained smile. The devil made a clicking noise in the back of his throat, snapping his fingers to summon a roll of gauze and some sort of burn gel. The demon just stood there, letting it all happen.
“There!” Lucifer beamed at his handiwork, oblivious to the turmoil he had just caused. “Don’t do that again, though, seriously. Charlie likes you for some fuckin’ reason so yknow…don’t get uh, hurt or anything. Cause if she’s upset I’m gonna break some stuff and…” Lucifer trailed off, finally looking at Alastor. “Um…you uh –“
“Thank you.” Alastor forced out, bringing his hand in close to his chest, definitely not focused on how warm the skin felt after Lucifer had held it. “But please, I would like to be alone. You…should be off to check that balcony, anyway.”
Lucifer squinted up at him for another moment. But then he nodded, that strange look wiped off his face and replaced with a strange smile. “Yeah! That definitely needs to get looked at. Toodles, Bambi! Oh, save some of that bread for Charlie. She loves zucchini bread.”
“I already knew that – and he’s gone.” Alastor huffed, but he…didn’t feel as annoyed as he should. Looking down at his bandaged hand, he felt…weird.
Lucifer could touch him. Someone could touch him.
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Much later, Charlie, needing a pick-me-up, would open the fridge that night and see half of a zucchini bread loaf with her name on it, from Alastor. It was eaten cold with butter over the counter, not sliced and just as a whole chunk.
(As one does at four in the morning after crying for hours)