Work Text:
Lucifer’s unsteady breathing echoed through his ears, the only constant sound as the world faded in and out around him. The electricity rocketing through him was becoming less frequent with every passing minute, and Lucifer was doing his best to just wait it out and try to work up enough strength to move. He raised his head, flinching as some of the remaining charge sparked through his body and popped uncomfortably in his ears. Whatever had gone down during Lucifer's painful stay in his weird round box was over, and the area was mostly deserted- for better or for worse. The king wouldn't mind a hand right now, provided it came from the right person.
Gingerly turning his head to take in the landscape, Lucifer's eye caught on a blurry splotch of moving red a short distance away from him.
Charlie?
He squinted, and the figure came into focus- or at least clear enough for Lucifer to discern red hair in an ugly-ass bob and an uncanny yellow smile. Bellhop guy.
The universe could not have picked a more wrong person for this situation.
I’d rather just bleed out here than ask that arrogant airhorn for help, Lucifer thought, annoyed. Then again, he wasn't exactly fond of the idea of waiting for some deranged sinner to stumble across him here. Though he didn't have to fear for his life, the king was by no means invulnerable to further injury, especially in his weakened state. Given how much the deranged deer always seemed to be sucking up to Charlie, he probably wouldn't do anything to harm Lucifer physically, which was more than the king could say about most random sinners off the street. Maybe red guy - Alastor, that's his name! - even knew where Charlie was, and maybe she'd be willing to help him. Maybe. They hadn't exactly parted on good terms.
Lucifer filed those thoughts under an increasingly large pile in his brain labeled 'deal with later'. "Deer dude!" the king called out, his voice hoarse. "Useless red guy!" Just because he could finally remember Alastor's name, Lucifer saw no reason to actually use it.
Alastor appeared next to him within seconds, emerging from within his freaky shadows. "My, my," the overlord crooned, his filtered voice grating against Lucifer’s ears. "What a pathetic sight! You're certainly making good on your promise to show me what sloppiness looks like."
"You're one to talk," Lucifer shot back. Alastor didn't look too great himself. His already ridiculous hair was disheveled, his eyes had deep shadows underneath them, and one of his arms seemed to have a giant bite taken out of it. He was also leaning heavily on his staff, slightly hunched over with an arm wrapped around his side.
"Hmm, well at least I'm still on my feet.” Barely, by the looks of it.
Lucifer ignored the jab. "Where's Charlie?"
"It seems her star resident has decided to take his patronage elsewhere, an issue that apparently takes precedence over helping her incapacitated father make it to safety."
"I guess it also takes precedence," Lucifer said, enunciating Alastor's fancy choice of words, "over helping her incapacitated bellhop, either. You're not special, Bambi."
One of Alastor's ears flicked. "Oh, I'm far from incapacitated. I would have thought you'd be used to this kind of thing, given your rather unceremonious fall from Above."
Lucifer bared his teeth as Alastor finally managed to strike a nerve, all too aware that he was still collapsed on the ground with the Radio Demon standing over him.
"So does that mean you are used to this kinda thing? And by thing, I mean getting your ass kicked by Vox. The stuff he did's just an average day for you?"
Alastor stiffened. "What did that disgusting excuse for a soul tell you?"
Oh, Lucifer had found something. Was getting captured really such a blow to the deer sinner's pride? Serves him right for daring to bring up Lucifer's Fall.
"That's for me to know and for you to... not know." He heaved himself up onto his elbows to sell his bluff, ignoring a shock of electricity and his wounds crying out in pain.
A twinge of radio static sounded from Alastor's microphone.
"Or maybe it is!” Lucifer pressed forward, raising his voice for dramatic flair. “Maybe it'd be fun to go and tell all of Hell that you g-"
Lucifer was cut off as Alastor's shadows swallowed him abruptly. Too caught off guard to do anything, Lucifer could only endure the strange feeling until the world around him rematerialized, the shadows unceremoniously dumping him and Alastor into the overlord's room at the Hazbin Hotel. Or at least that's what Lucifer assumed, given that half of it looked like the interior of the hotel, while the other half was just some weird swamp.
Alastor swayed from the exertion, dropping to his knees. The static intensified as his eyes turned to radio dials. When the overlord spoke, his mouth didn't move, only glowed eerily.
"If you dare. To tell anyone about the way that freak of a man violated me. I will not rest until I find a way to tear you apart and make your soul cry out for mercy. I do not care who you are."
Oh.
Shit.
Lucifer wasn't expecting... That.
He'd assumed Alastor was just miffed about getting captured and injured by Vox, not even considering what else the TV overlord might have done to him.
For the first time, Lucifer felt bad for the overlord. Alastor was visibly shaking, on the verge of hyperventilating, and his static was reaching an earsplitting level.
"Wait, hold on, no no no," Lucifer backtracked frantically. "He didn't tell me anything about - anything."
The static screeched to a halt.
"I - I was just..." Lucifer stammered. "I'm sorry."
"You..." For once, Alastor seemed to be at a loss for words. The lights flickered, and the deer sinner sat back against a tree, still breathing hard. His ears flopped down, betraying his exhaustion.
"...You okay?" Lucifer asked awkwardly, unsure how to proceed now.
"Are you okay?" The word sounded foreign on Alastor's tongue as he parroted the king's own question back to him.
Lucifer blinked. "Your swamp is uncomfortable as shit," he found himself saying in an attempt to break the tension.
"It's a bayou, and you're bleeding all over it." Alastor responded tightly, keeping his gaze fixed straight forward, away from Lucifer.
"Hey, you brought me here. What did you think was gonna happen?" Lucifer countered.
"I thought you were going to tell all of Hell about… that." Alastor's voice was carefully measured, still facing pointedly away from the king.
"Right. That." Lucifer let out a breath, the silence growing awkward. "…What happened, anyway?" Alastor's ear twitched again as he shot a blistering glare in Lucifer's direction.
"Not with you and Vox," Lucifer clarified quickly. "With Vox and like... anyone."
Alastor's look turned from murderous to irritated. "Do you really expect me to sit here and tell you everything now?"
"Can I just have a TLDR?"
"A what now?" Alastor’s head cocked to the side slightly.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Nevermind."
Though Alastor was exhausted, shaken, and bleeding out on his bedroom floor, he was still a radio host at heart, and that damn deer couldn’t just pass up an opportunity to hear himself talk. "Those imbeciles that call themselves the Vees tried to start a war with Heaven."
Lucifer jolted up, cursing as the pain from his wounds rocketed through his body. "Wait, what? How would they even..." Lucifer trailed off, unsure where he was going with that sentence. Get up there? Get their attention? Think that they could damage them in any way?
The noise Alastor made was halfway between a sigh and a growl. "That, Your Highness, is where you came in,” Alastor explained, the words 'Your Highness' dropping with an almost impressive amount of sarcasm. “They constructed a weapon powerful enough to strike Heaven, using you as a living battery. However, it seems that wretched television went mad with power, and overloaded the weapon firing on his own denizens. In the end, his own associates turned on him, and it took quite a few of the most powerful overlords to rid Hell of that monstrosity."
Lucifer was silent for a few beats, his exhausted brain trying to process the truckload of information. "But we're okay with Heaven? They know that it wasn't my - I didn't-" want this? Sure, it might be my fault, but I would never-
Alastor waved a tired hand. "Yes, yes. Leave it to our dear Charlotte to dismantle a deadly weapon using the power of friendship." The exasperation in the overlord's voice was clear.
Lucifer sighed. "Okay." The pair lapsed into silence.
"Your bayou is still uncomfortable." Lucifer broke the spell, too wiped out to move but feeling awkward about continuing to lie on Alastor's floor.
"Have you considered that your discomfort may be due to your open wounds instead?" Alastor muttered sarcastically.
"And that's another thing," Lucifer griped, waving a hand vaguely. "Lying in this muck is probably also going to give me an infection."
Alastor was silent for a beat before growling and heaving himself up. The overlord staggered, leaning heavily against his tree.
"Now what?" Lucifer asked groggily.
"Confound you for mentioning that," Alastor responded, which was in no way a proper answer. The deer stumbled over to his bathroom door before clumsily turning around to face Lucifer.
"Do Not. Come In Here." The door shut with a click.
"No wait, what did I do?" Lucifer called, raising his voice to hopefully be audible through the bathroom door but not expecting a response. Gingerly, he began to negotiate his bruised body into a sitting position.
"If you hadn't mentioned infection, I could have continued to sit there in blissful ignorance. Now I have no choice but to address my wounds." Alastor spat out the last word as though being wounded was personally offensive to him.
If Lucifer had been in any less pain, he would have giggled. "No one told me the great and powerful Radio Demon was a neat freak."
Alastor growled, though the noise sounded more annoyed than angry.
Now in somewhat of a sitting position, Lucifer assessed his condition. He was far too exhausted to heal his wounds, but he knew he couldn’t let them remain like this. Ideally, he'd return to his room to deal with them, but Lucifer would almost rather get an infection than leave a trail of golden blood from Alastor's room to his own. He settled for using some magic to clean and dress the wounds, clean his body, and change his clothes into a hoodie and sweatpants. His power, usually readily accessible, barely responded to him, and the simple act of cleaning and changing left him out of breath and lightheaded. Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, riding out the discomfort.
He was unsure how long he waited for the unpleasantness to pass, but eventually, Lucifer’s head had cleared enough to crack open his eyes. He crawled over to the tree Alastor had been using for support, gripping its bark to pull himself to a standing position. Now that his wounds were dressed, there was no reason he shouldn't head back to his room.
He took one step and nearly faceplanted back into the stupid bayou. Or not.
Backpedaling instead, he felt for the rough bark of the tree behind him.
"Bravo!" Alastor’s filtered voice called out.
Lucifer raised his head to find Alastor watching him, the overlord leaning on the frame of his bathroom door. He was wearing a simple shirt and slacks, and was carrying his tattered suit under his arm. His expression was amused from witnessing Lucifer nearly wipe out in the mud, but Lucifer could see the exhaustion lingering underneath.
"Shut up," the king muttered elegantly.
"No," Alastor responded simply. He began to move, still relying heavily on his staff, towards an empty hamper. He dropped the bundle of clothes into it before pausing suddenly, staring down at them with a distant expression.
"What is it?" Lucifer asked. When he received no response, he decided to try the whole walking thing again. Upon finding he was able to manage a few steps, Lucifer carefully crossed the room towards Alastor. The overlord was frozen, his mind in another world.
What is he- Oh.
Lucifer paused a step behind the overlord as it sank in. Those are the clothes he must have been wearing when Vox did- whatever he did. The king was not about to ask for details.
Instead, he waved a hand and set the clothes on fire.
Immediately, a wave of lightheadedness hit him, and Lucifer sank to his knees. When his vision cleared, he looked up to find Alastor still staring at the flames, before blinking and turning to see the king on the ground next to him.
"Hows'at?" Lucifer slurred.
"I..." Alastor trailed off. "Thank you, I suppose," the deer sinner finished after a moment, the words awkward on his tongue.
"Don' mention it," Lucifer waved him off, trying to get to his feet and losing his balance yet again.
Before he could hit the ground for the umpteenth time that day, Lucifer's arm was snatched by a strong hand, steadying him. He raised his head to meet Alastor's eyes. The overlord blinked, staring down at Lucifer with an inscrutable expression.
"This won't do." He said simply, turning and steering Lucifer towards the bed - a simple king-size frame covered with a red quilt.
"Wait, wha-" Lucifer stammered.
"You are in no condition to make it back to your room unassisted, and I am not feeling generous enough to assist you." Given that Lucifer had proven he could barely make it across the room, let alone walk or teleport back to his side of the hotel, the king couldn't argue. As for Alastor's unwillingness to help, Lucifer was pretty sure that translated to Alastor being in no condition to make it across the hotel and back either.
"I see no other course of action other than to allow you to stay here until you recuperate. That is, unless you'd like to summon someone here and ask them for help?" Alastor asked, his emphasis on the word here making it clear that the overlord did not want anyone to find the King of Hell in his bedroom, a sentiment shared wholeheartedly by Lucifer. He allowed himself to be guided to Alastor's bed, where he sat down carefully. The mattress was quite firm, but not uncomfortably so.
After depositing Lucifer on his bed, Alastor sat down in an old red armchair, removing his monocle and passing a hand over his face. Casting a look back in Lucifer's direction, the overlord froze when he found the king still watching him. The two shared a moment of awkward eye contact.
"Well?" Alastor snapped.
"Well what?" Lucifer asked, wary.
"Go on. Rest. Recuperate. Whatever it is you need to do." Alastor spoke through clenched teeth.
"And you're just gonna- what, watch me sleep? Weirdo?" Lucifer tacked on the word for emphasis.
Alastor's ear twitched and another twinge of static escaped. "Do you really think I would leave you unsupervised in my room, hmm?"
"Riiiight. You know I could just come in here any time I wanted to."
Alastor sigh-growled again.
"Not that I do. Want to. In fact, I want to leave now but I don't really feel like moving, and I'm pretty sure Charlie would be pretty mad if you kicked her dear ol' dad out on his own."
"Mmm, really? I'm told she's none too happy with you at the moment." The amusement in Alastor's voice was plain as he seized the opportunity Lucifer had presented to him.
"Ugh, fuck you." Lucifer had known the words were a mistake as soon as they left his mouth, but was hoping Alastor was unaware of how things stood between the king and his daughter. The overlord certainly had an annoying ability to find things out.
Lucifer curled up on the bed, facing away from Alastor and towards the bayou. Silence fell, weighing heavily on the king as he thought about his daughter.
"Do- d'you think she's still mad at me?" Lucifer asked, his voice much smaller than intended. He wasn't sure why he was bothering to ask. All he was doing was handing the deer sinner more ammunition on a silver platter.
"Our Charlotte," Alastor began in a reluctant tone, "sees good in those around her to a fault. I'm sure she'll come around in no time." Alastor sighed, probably lamenting the opportunity to pick on the king.
Surprised by the deer sinner yet again, Lucifer rolled onto his other side to face Alastor, who was pointedly refusing to meet his eyes.
"Huh. Thanks, I - I guess."
"Yes, well," Alastor became very interested in inspecting his nails. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't if you won't," Lucifer shot back, grabbing a pillow from under Alastor's covers and burying his head in it.
"Go to sleep," Alastor deflected.
"Yeah, like I can just do that on command," Lucifer grumbled.
Despite Lucifer's complaint, the king drifted off a mere few seconds after the words left his mouth. Alastor sat still, watching the gentle rise and fall of Lucifer's chest.
What... just happened?
Lucifer knew about Vox.
Lucifer was asleep in Alastor's bed.
Alastor was responsible for both of those facts. And Alastor had been far, far, nicer to the king than was probably wise.
He wasn't himself. Chalk it up to the injuries, the exhaustion dragging at the corners of his consciousness, to Vox. The literal King of Hell had now witnessed a version of Alastor that was so painfully incongruent from how the overlord worked so tirelessly to present himself, and that was terrifying. Information was priceless, and Alastor couldn't even begin to fathom all of the ways Lucifer could use this against him.
The King of Hell, the Morningstar, the…
Small, injured man lying in Alastor's bed.
The man who had also suffered at the hand of Vox. Who somehow trusted the overlord enough to fall asleep in front of him. Alastor blinked. It might have been the exhaustion and injuries making him delirious, but it suddenly didn't seem all that serious anymore. When compared to being on Rosie's leash, or under Vox's heel, having Lucifer a little closer to him... maybe wasn't so bad.
Okay, he was definitely a little delirious. As tired as he was, though, he didn't really want to fall asleep with Lucifer in his room. Although the king hadn't been wrong when he'd said he technically could just come into Alastor's room anytime, this was different. Lucifer was here now with Alastor's permission, and that changed things.
Or maybe it was just a matter of pride, but it was yet another wall Alastor wasn't prepared to let down tonight, no matter how difficult it might be. All he had to do was stay awake...
"I don't think he's here..."
Vaggi stood awkwardly in the center of Lucifer's room, watching her girlfriend under the missing king's bed. The room had been largely emptied after Lucifer's impromptu departure, but a few stray ducks remained. Vaggi fought the urge to kick at one lying within reach.
"I know, I'm just- making sure. I can't believe it took me this long to come and check on him!" Charlie exclaimed, straightening up and dusting her knees.
"It's okay, babe. We had a lot going on," Vaggi reassured her.
"And Alastor too! Ohmygosh, I feel so bad," Charlie seemed as though she didn't hear Vaggi at all, but surprised the fallen angel by stopping and meeting Vaggi's eyes. "But thanks. Yeah."
Vaggi smiled, recognizing Charlie's acknowledgement as the progress it was. A few short days ago, the princess would have steamrollered on, ignoring Vaggi completely, but now it seemed Charlie was actually beginning to put in effort to be a better listener.
"Of course, babe. You wanna go check Alastor's room too, or should we call it a night?"
Charlie nodded, moving towards the door. "I hope they're not mad at us for not checking in earlier. Ugh, I hope they're both okay."
Vaggi followed Charlie out the door and down the hallway towards Alastor's room.
"I'm sure they're fine. They're both adults, they can handle themselves." Given that Lucifer's last interaction with his daughter had been her kicking him out and that Alastor would probably be allergic to anyone showing genuine concern for his wellbeing, it wouldn't surprise Vaggi if those two wanted to lick their wounds in private. On the off-chance that something was wrong, however, it would probably be good if they were both accounted for sooner than later.
Charlie slowed as she neared Alastor's door, hesitating for a split second before knocking gently on the overlord's door.
Nothing.
"Do you think he's asleep? Does he even sleep? How do I not even know if he sleeps or not?" Charlie whisper-hissed.
Alastor?" Vaggi called, knocking on the overlord's door for the second time.
"Should we go in?" Charlie asked, wringing her hands anxiously. "I mean, it's not like we're gonna do anything, we just wanna make sure he's okay."
Vaggi nodded, cautiously easing Alastor's door open and poking her head in. The room was dim but not dark, the somewhat eerie ambient glow from the bayou providing enough light for Vaggi to take in the scene in front of her.
Asleep on Alastor's bed was Lucifer, tangled with the crimson bedsheets in a way that looked like he had started out on top of them and tried to twist them over him halfway through. Alastor was passed out in a red armchair in a position sure to give the overlord neck pain when he woke. A gentle remnant of his perpetual smile lingered on his face. The pair looked peaceful. Almost tranquil.
Vaggi stared at them in shock, processing the scene. After a moment, she came to her senses. The fallen angel pulled her head back and began to ease the door shut, bumping into Charlie, who had been peering into the room over her girlfriend's head.
“What- huh- how-” Charlie sputtered, gesturing confusedly.
“Well, at least we know where they are now,” Vaggi noted once she was reasonably sure Charlie wasn’t trying to form an actual sentence.
Charlie took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m glad they’re safe. But what the fuck?”
“I don’t know, babe. We can ask once they wake up.” Vaggi paused. “Actually, I don’t know if we were supposed to see that, though.” Vaggi took her girlfriend’s hand. “Now, can we go to bed?”
“I guess,” Charlie replied, casting another baffled glance at Alastor’s door as Vaggi began to lead her down the hall. As weird and unexpected as it was, there would be time for questions later. For now, they would leave the unlikely pair to get some rest.