Chapter Text
January
“No one ever regarded the first of January with indifference.”
— Charles Lamb
The Exorcism came and went, just as it always did. Lucifer spent it curled up in his bed, doing his best to ignore the sounds of it.
Now though… now he felt hollowed out. Too old, spread too thin, and pulled in too many directions. Adam had bragged about how many Sinner’s had been killed; nearly double than the previous year. For hours, Lucifer had to sit there and listen to the First Man deride and berate him and his people; human souls that Adam was removing from existence for no other reason than that he was still angry at Lucifer for his mistakes in the Garden. It never failed to leave him feeling brittle.
Despite that, or maybe because he had been hearing the same verbal abuse for over two hundred years, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to one specific Sinner.
If the coffee shop made it through unscathed.
If Alastor had a place to hide from the Exorcists.
…if the Demon survived.
Lucifer let out a drawn out groan of frustration and tugged on his hair. He could go see, just to alleviate the slight tinge of worry he felt. It had been just over a week after all.
A week of worry, memories, and frankly horrific conjured coffee. Lucifer has absolutely no idea how he drank it, but all it took was only a few visits to Pentagram Coffee and he was spoiled now. With a wiggle of his fingers little sparks of magic manifested in the world, leaving him in what has come to be his usual disguise.
He opened a portal into an alley not far from the coffee shop, desperately wanting to avoid as much of the destruction of his once-beloved city as he possibly could. All he had to do was exit the alley and walk half a block down. Stepping out left bile sitting in his throat at the level of destruction this year. It was absolutely more vicious than it had been previously. It felt like he was nearly running with how quickly he was trying to power through and make it to the shop, and when the door finally was within arms reach, and instead of being greeted with the jazz that had been a constant, there was something classical playing on the speaker, a slow and somber song.
Quickly stepping inside, he looks around and his breath catches when he does not see the Sinner.
A small giggle breaks him out of a spiral, and he spies the small woman he has seen cleaning the shop before. “uh..Hi there!” He fumbles out.
She just sits on the counter kicking her legs and tilting her head, the singular eye boring into him. “I’m glad you lived! Sir was worried you got stabbed by one of the Angels. He was getting sad.”
Lucifer’s teeth clicked shut and he swallowed. He..he hadn’t even considered that from the other’s point of view how his sudden week of not coming in may look, given they think he is a Sinner like them. “Where is he?” He aimed for casual and given the giggle he got back, likely missed the mark.
“Alastor had to go up on the roof! Some Bad Angels left a mess.”
With the unhinged smile and almost vibrating in excitement, Lucifer really did not want to question it further. Her eye flicked over his shoulders, but he didn’t sense anything so thought nothing of it. “Well! I just wanted to check to see if the shop was still going to be open. If he’s busy I can leave.”
She shook her head and hopped off the counter, pushing him to what he had come to think of his spot on the couch. “Nope!” The ‘p’ popped and she motioned for him to sit, which he did. “He’ll be right here! He’ll want to see you’re ok for himself.”
He watched her bound away, launching herself into the backroom and leaving him alone.
So, instead of letting himself feel uncomfortable, Lucifer took the time to look around and see what hand changed. It seemed like every time he came to the shop, something new was added; like Alastor wasn’t quite making it his own. He had learned that the Sinner had only been open a few weeks before he walked in with those handful of sinners. He does see those four from time to time, which has been…interesting. It has been an extremely long time since he formed any sort of friendships, and even then it was mostly the Sins and Hellborn. He had been interacting with more Sinners lately than he had in thousands of years.
It was an eye opener, to see the concerns of the Sinners first hand, on a level he had never had to before.
On the wall opposite the couch was now a mounted pair of horns with a skull.
Lucifer squinted at it, even going so far as to tilt his head.
It did not look like any of the native animals of the Pride Ring. And, as far behind as he was on Earth’s animal kingdom, he was fairly certain there was nothing like that there either. In fact… it looked like…
“Greetings and Salutations!” His line of thought was broken by Alastor’s arrival as he threw the door open. Lucifer shelved the thought and turned to Alastor, grinning. It almost fell when he saw the man, though.
Alastor looked…tired.
The ever present smile was not as large as usual. That alone would worry Lucifer, but the man’s shoulders were held stiffly, and there were deep bags under his eyes. He very much hoped it was just because of whatever Alastor had to do to survive the Exorcism, and not because the stupid man had gotten injured.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, his own smiling, pleased expression never fell. “I just had to make sure I would still be able to get my favorite drink after everything.”
That strange, recorded sounding laughter escaped Alastor, mixing in with what Lucifer assumed was his real one. “Well, I’m glad to know my most consistent customer survived the purge. I don’t expect some of the other regulars to have.”
Lucifer’s heart clenches and internally he seethes. Pain, hate, and anger boiling up within him so potently and quickly that it’s a wonder he didn’t start spitting hellfire and blow his cover. In his rage– that was entirely centered on himself– he lashed out, striking at the only thing other than himself that he could. “Is this just a game to you?”
He receives a blink in response, having confused the man. “I beg your pardon?”
Snarling, Lucifer jumps off the couch and paces, hands opening and closing, with his tail swishing behind him in anger. Tucking his head down towards his chest, he rounds on Alastor. “That’s what you call a mass genocide at the hands of those… those…” his voice cracks, “so-called Angels?” It’s not hard to read the confusion in the Sinner’s eyes as they dart over him, looking for something. Lucifer’s brain was spiraling too much to know what.
“It’s the truth.” Static laced the voice as it was laid out so plainly. It hurt. The casual way Alastor talked about it, the callous disregard for his fellow once-humans.
“Right. How could I forget? This is hell and everyone has to be horrid to each other.”
Alastor’s teeth click audibly, but Lucifer doesn’t look at him. “If you are going to take your hurt feelings out on me, you can leave, Little Goat.” The voice is overlaid with a slight static sounding reverberation.
As much as it galled him to take such dismissive orders from a Sinner, Lucifer took the dismissal for what it was, and a cold ball of too many painful emotions sat in his chest to deal with in front of this Sinner who, apparently, absolutely deserved to be in Hell.
February:
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."
— William Shakespeare
When the door chimed yet again for the countless time that morning, Alastor was ready to just close the shop. Valentine's day had always baffled him when he was alive, and now that he was in Hell, it wasn’t any easier to comprehend– and it was infinitely more disgusting. While most Sinners were, overall, happy to fornicate– alongside numerous other things– nearly anywhere, they usually weren’t so…disgustingly unhinged about it. He had already thrown nearly twenty people out of the shop because of their disgusting public displays, and Nifty had also chased out several with an overly large needle.
And it was only mid morning.
Out of a quickly formed habit that had annoyingly refused to break, Alastor’s eyes flicked to the couch where one particular Goat Demon always chose to sit and stare out at the gardens of Cannibal Town. It had been empty since early the previous month, when they had had their confusing argument. Truly, he didn’t know where it had gone wrong. He let the little goat dictate the flow of the conversation; returned an almost flirtatious joke with a quip of his own, and then Luci was taking out his anger at him. He wanted to snarl just thinking about it.
Alastor had to do a double take because there, sitting on the couch, was Luci.
The Sinner was watching him and when he caught Alastor’s eyes, he gave a small wave along with a nervous smile.
He didn’t look away until he felt Nifty tugging on his coat. “Al, you should make him his drink and apologize!”
“What do I have to apologize for, my dear?”
She rolls her eye and just gives him a pointed look, which he ignores but sets about making that overly sweet drink anyway. Hauling out a stool, she takes his place making coffee and taking orders as she shoos him away once the drink was done.
Alastor rarely had felt unsure about things. This was, unfortunately, rapidly becoming one of them and he approached the goat demon.
“Luci.” His voice felt thick with static, and he swallowed to try and fix it. He sets the cup down in front of the other man, and they both go to speak at the same time. “Are–”
“I’m–”
But both were cut out by a loud, intense moan as two sinners came crashing in the door, pawing at each other and tearing clothes off.
Alastor can feel his antlers grow slightly and his eyes turning black, and knew the dials were spinning rapidly. Luci blinked up at him in surprise, lip twitching in amusem*nt.
Spinning on his heel, he stares at the culprits: a nondescript sinner couple that he would never need to remember again. Growling, he stalks towards the two who do not seem to realize the danger they are in until he is laying a clawed hand on each of their shoulders, forcing them to spin and face him. Given the way they pale, he's certain that He's drooling that strange black ichor. With an unhinged grin, he talks, voice layered with static. “Leave or I will eat you.”
They stopped and stared in horror, and with a too-high, too-manic laughter, he lurched forward and snapped his teeth in their faces. They scramble back, tripping over themselves to try and reach the door.
He laughs and laughs as ever more people that had been loitering in the shop follow. What follows is blissful silence, only a sparse handful of the regulars staying– most of them being cannibals themselves.
Getting himself back under control takes a few breaths, but he prepares himself to see the goat sinner gone when he turns around.
It feels like a punch in the gut when, as he faces the couch and sees Luci lounging on the couch like it was a throne, feet kicked up onto the low table in front of him, sipping at the coffee with a knowing grin that shows off sharp teeth. There was an unexpected look in Luci’s eyes, as though what Alastor had done was something that pleased him. His breath stuttered as he was realized how utterly f*cked he could become by this man.
There was something otherworldly about the other demon and it rocked Alastor to his core. There was no way this demon who had captured his attention so much was just a sinner. Alastor refused to believe that he would ever be so intrigued by someone common. There was something extraordinary about this demon, Alastor was sure. The mystery of it only piqued his interest more.
Biting his tongue in an attempt to get himself under control, he swans over to the goat demon and tuts. “Feet off the furniture, my dear.” When he receives an eye roll in return, Alastor hooks his foot under the leg and pulls, laughing at the yelp Luci lets out as his feet hit the floor, jostling him so much that he nearly hits the floor. The coffee lands on his vest.
“What the hell!” Is exclaimed, and Luci levels a glare up at Alastor.
He grins down at the smaller man, “So sorry. Allow me to make you a new one.” The expression he gets in return is worth needing to remake the drink.
Luci surprised him by staying well past the afternoon– long after he usually left.
The vest was removed and folded onto the seat next to him, and there was a small, sad smile on his face as he twisted the ring that adorned his finger.
Alastor resolutely does not watch, no matter all of the unsubtle glances Nifty kept throwing him.
And if disappeared into the back room periodically for the next three hours, well, it was simply to prepare a new test item for his menu.
Alastor has a soft smile on his face, safely tucked away in the small kitchen and away from any prying eyes– save the ambient ones that litter the hellscape– as he sprinkles powdered sugar on a dozen piping hot, fresh beignets. The smell of them takes him back to his childhood; that sweet doughy smell with a hint of lemon and vanilla, standing next to his mother as they sang and danced around the kitchen, preparing a batch for any number of special occasions, while the muggy air of the bayou held their secrets safe as she taught him what her mother and grandmother’s passed down to her. Regretfully, he shook himself from getting lost in memories.
The ingredients had been hard to source, and it would take some time before they would be a full staple on the menu, but after the day they had had, and hell only knows how many more incidents to come, the pair of them (himself and Nifty, of course) deserve a pick-me-up. He absolutely does not think about the three he plated separately or how they had just a pinch more sugar than the ones on the other plate.
He was nearly to the door when there was shouting and he slammed the door open with a snarl, a tug on the deal he had with Nifty alerting him even further to what was likely happening.
Luci was up and jabbing his finger into the chest of someone who looks vaguely like one of the sinner’s that Nifty had chased out earlier that morning, a toothy snarl highlighting the look of righteous rage that adorned his striking face. With a growl building in his own chest, Alastor slammed the plates onto the counter and stalked over. Static buildup in him, jittering and racing under his skin. His extremities tingled with potential as it coated his mouth and voice, giving it the reverberating static feedback he was so familiar with in life. There was also the Eldritch magics he was sworn to slipping around his mind and shadows, trying to force his body into something Other and more prepared to attack and defend.
Alastor felt his control slipping. Something he assuredly could not afford right now.
So he forced the Other parts of himself to wait, his form quivering and barely content to keep his current shape.
Nifty ran over to him, clinging and hiding behind his leg even as he stalked forward. Her fear made his own instincts to rend and hunt and tear and kill and eat all the harder to ignore. There was a heaviness to the air, though, that was not caused by him. It almost tingled, zipping across his skin like tiny crimson sparks but they quickly dissipated.
“She said to leave her alone ” There was something deep underlying Luci’s voice as he roared at the sinner. Something dark and old, and it made Alastor’s hackles rise, and tail twitch and fluff out as fear zipped up his spine.
That black ooze was dripping from his teeth as he surged forward and laid his wickedly sharp claws over each of the guilty sinner’s shoulders. “Why thank you, Luci.” He couldn’t help how his smile grew past what should have been possible at the pleased look he was given by the small man; unable to stop his preening over the small gesture of approval. He hated it. “I believe I know just what to do.” His claws dug into those shoulders and he pulled the man back and into his office, whispering “Let’s make a deal, shall we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lucifer’s snarl turned bemused, near face splitting grin was quickly wiped from his face as he turned his attention back to Nifty. She stared back, but she was looking past him, her singular pupil constricts and becomes a pinprick before the seemingly starts vibrating and jerkily starts hopping around the store, attempting to clean. He watches her for a second, concerned, but quickly remembers that there are other people in the shop still.
He lets a little more of his power slip out, easily scarring the less powerful sinners. There are a few who linger while the majority flee his wrathful gaze, but they don’t last long once his attention is on them.
With a loaded and drawn out sigh, he collapses back into the couch. It was so very tempting to return home. His ring felt like it held the weight of nearly ten thousand years, and he wasn’t even sure what he was doing here. Yes, being alone today was painful, but why did his feet, his magic, bring him here? He does suppose being surrounded by people was better than being holed up and alone.
Plus the coffee was delicious.
Hearing the clink of a plate being set on the table pulls a small smile from him and he expects to see Alastor when he looks up, only to be met with Nifty unnervingly close and a second plate is set down. In looking down, he misses her scampering off to do more frantic cleaning, but even that slips his mind when he sees three square, puffy sugar covered donut-like things that smell amazing.
They are polished off long before the Sinner that Alastor had dragged to the back room stumbled out, and honestly, Lucifer is actually surprised by that. He half expected Alastor to eat them. The Deer Demon has put himself back together and looks like nothing happened earlier. Except a singular black droplet that stained his red coat.
Alastor immediately goes and speaks to Nifty, and Lucifer hums to himself, as to not listen to the private conversation. Once that was done, he can feel Alastor’s eyes boring into him, and he just sends a small smile back which makes the Sinner look away and get back to his post behind the counter. Lucifer does end up spending the rest of the day there, highly amused at the smallest of things that set the strange man off.
And when he leaves for the night, returning to his empty home, those hours of not thinking about his mistakes or thinking of Lilith or how he had failed was wonderful.
March:
“In March winter is holding back and spring is pulling forward. Something holds and something pulls inside of us too.”
— Jean Hersey
“So, what do you put in that drink you make me, anyway?”
Alastor rolls his eyes skywards, as though wondering if there would be an Exorcist coming to save him from Lucifer’s unending word vomit. “You’ve watched me make this for you for months now.”
From his slumped position across the counter, Lucifer grins at Alastor, one side of his face smooshed in the crook of his arms, taking away from the mocking he was going for. “Yea but I’m usually too busy to pay attention to you.”
Alastor ignores him. “Aaaaaaaal….” he whines.
His playful expression drops when he hears the sharp, aggravated breath Alastor lets out. He’s on the verge of apologizing when the sinner starts talking. “Truly, I expected you to hate the drink.” The red eyes flick over to Lucifer, one side of the grin pulling up, giving it a sly quality. “I had just received this,” he held up two bottles of a syrup, colorfully labeled with something Lucifer recognized having come from the Gluttony Ring, “and when I tried them, I thought they were horrific. Plus I was having a bad night. Your reaction really was quite the let down for me.” The deer demon lets out a dramatic sigh.
Lucifer jolted up from his reclined position in indignation. His mouth opened and closed several times as Alastor cackled and finished making the drink, pumping each of the syrups multiple times into the cup and setting it on the plate in front of him with a dainty clink. The disgusted look on his face as he added the syrups made Lucifer snort.
It’s just the two of them in the shop that evening. Alastor had refused to tell Lucifer where Nifty was, just alluding to her having errands to run and Lucifer had taken advantage of it and pulled one of the tall chairs to the counter to better harass the sinner.
Going about cleaning the station, Alastor muses. “You are always here either late at night or the early hours of the morning. One has to wonder why?”
Glaring down at the coffee like it personally offended him, Lucifer brings it to his lips and sips it thoughtfully. “Trust me, I’d love to be asleep right now. Nothing really works.” Under his breath he grumbles, “ Even those pills from Sloth only work some of the time .” Shaking his head with a sigh, Lucifer turns the question back on Alastor. “What about you? It’s not like this place has been closed any time I’ve come by.”
He shouldn’t keep pushing. Lucifer has been around the sinner long enough to recognize when he was being pushed beyond the limits he was comfortable with. Like now, when the corners of that weird smile pull up sharply, making his face change from pleasant to look at to something sharp and dangerous. There was a small amount of ambient crackling sounds in the air as well.
Just as he was going to rescind his question, there was a quiet answer given. “I never slept much even when I was alive. Since I awoke in hell though,” Lucifer’s eyes roamed over Alastor, who was looking down at his own coffee with narrowed eyes, “anything more than an hour or two at a time seems to elude me.”
“Oh.” The exclamation he lets out is soft, understanding. Because he does understand. Perhaps not for the same reasons, but Lucifer is well acquainted with the feeling of having too much going on in your head to relax. A timer dings from the back room, causing Lucifer to jump while Alastor spins on his heel quickly to enter the back room and finish preparing the beignets.
April:
“April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.”
― T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
Yet again, Lucifer finds himself standing in front of the door of Pentagram Coffee when he is ready to break down. Charlie’s words ring in his ear even now, hours after their last talk. Pausing in front of the door, his hand rests on it as he debates if he should enter or not. It’s not like he meant to come here, and he would be terrible company today anyway; his head is pounding and there is an ache behind his eyes that comes from too many held back tears. Alastor hasn’t seen him yet, so it isn’t too late– the man is facing away, cleaning and no one else is in the shop.
Except…
Those soft looking ears swivel to face Lucifer, betraying just how good Alastor’s hearing is. So, now it was too late because Alastor had already turned to head towards the coffee machine and if Lucifer didn’t know better, he would have said the smile was more genuine than he usually sees. With a bitten off groan, Lucifer finally pushes the door open and steps inside, the now familiar scent of the shop somehow immediately draining some of the tension from his shoulders and allows a small though tired smile to crawl onto his face as he approaches the red sinner.
“Greetings and Salutations, Luci!” came the chipper sounding greeting.
Pulling a chair up to the counter, he flops into it, forehead hitting the wood of the counter hard. The soft clinks of the coffee being made stop for a moment and he opens his sore, puffy eyes, shifting to look at the demon. “Do you always have to use the same greeting each time?” Exhaustion turned his voice flat.
There is something that flicks across Alastor’s face for less than a blink but it makes Lucifer freeze and breath catch in his throat. If he had spent any less time around the man and cataloging his many micro expressions, he would have missed it. Hurt had flashed across that smiling face, the red ears twitching, as though trying to pull downwards. “Well,” Alastor turned his nose up and stepped away, grabbing something from the bar as far from Lucifer as he could without actually leaving it, “I suppose I don’t have to, but since it bothers you so much… yes, I think I do!”
When he returns, the smile is more neutral than the one Lucifer saw from outside the shop, and it makes his stomach sink thinking that he hurt yet another person today with his careless words. His mind spirals as he tries to think of words that won’t hurt or cut too deeply. Lucifer must get lost in his thoughts for too long, because he is brought back to Hell by a coffee being placed in front of him. Blinking owlishly up at Alastor, who's not looking at him and is instead looking down at his own cup, he intelligently spits out “Wh–what?”, looking between their drinks. The one sitting in front of him is not his regular one, or even one of the variations he had been given over the months.
Sitting in front of him was a drink that was a little darker than his usual. A good bit of foam sat on top, sprinkled with chat smells like cinnamon, which combined so nicely with the vague vanilla and coffee smell that wafted up to his nose, with an underlying bitterness that he couldn’t place but smelled familiar. Glancing between his own and Alastor’s, the only difference appeared to be that the other man’s had a more ruddy-red color to it, as well as what appeared to be a red powder mixed with the cinnamon. “Tell me if you don’t care for it and you’ll get your disgusting regular drink.”
Lucifer couldn’t detect any of the earlier hurt anymore, just a snide wit filling the air between them. And though he really should pay more attention to whatever this random sinner was putting into his drinks, it’s not like he can hurt Lucifer. Very few things could unless he let them, after all.
Except emotions. Those could, and did, completely wreck him.
“If I’m so boring, Little Goat, you don’t have to stay.” Alastor was staring down at him with hooded eyes, an aggravated smirk pulling his face tight. Denials sit on the tip of his tongue, but Lucifer holds them back, knowing that now would not be the time for him to try to tease– playful comments would turn to painful observations with how he was feeling now. Instead, he picks up the aromatic coffee and brings it to his lips. The heat of it is pleasant, and despite it being slightly more bitter than what he usually prefers, it leaves a warmth that coats his mouth and continues to travel down his throat and into his stomach. Pulling the drink away, surprised, he rolls the flavor in his mouth until he recognizes it.
“Oh! Wrathion Whiskey? I’m surprised you managed to get any. It’s decently hard to come by.” Absorbed as he is in the whiskey and coffee, Lucifer barely catches the small uptick in the smile and Alastor’s eyes shift to the wall-mounted horns Lucifer had noticed two months ago.
There is a little chuckle– nearly a giggle, if Lucifer was so inclined to think the deer demon the more jovial type– and a murmured “A hard won battle to obtain it, I assure you.” before Alastor sets his drink down and fully gives his attention to Lucifer. “Since alcohol is involved now, I suppose I can play the part of a real barman.” Lucifer snorts into the drink, raising an eyebrow. “Tell me, Luci, what brought you here tonight in such a foul mood?” Swirling the liquid in the cup, Lucifer debates just how much he should, and could, say. “Marital problems?” The done is derisive, and Lucifer bristles at it.
“Not married anymore,” he snaps, fingers clenching on the cup just a tad too hard, feeling it almost splinter under his grip. “My daughter–” Teeth clicking with how quickly he snapped his jaw shut, Lucifer glared up at Alastor, daring him to say anything.
The only sound that the sinner lets out is a pointed ‘ hmm?’ and a raised eyebrow.
Chewing on his lip for a moment, Lucifer decides ‘ f*ck It ’ and takes another drink. It won’t get him drunk, but the faint tingle of the alcohol is pleasant enough on its own. “Char-char, er…my daughter, called earlier.” He frowns at his drink. “She was telling me how her mother wanted to get back together.”
Another coffee is poured, and Lucifer watches as Alastor spoons in brown sugar and mixes it with the coffee. There was a carefully blank look on the man's face. “Does she actually?”
Scoffing, Lucifer closes his eyes, tears burning behind his eyelids. “No. No, she definitely does not.”
May:
“Then you have to remember to be thankful; but in May one simply can't help being thankful . . . that they are alive, if for nothing else. I feel exactly as Eve must have felt in the garden of Eden before the trouble began.”
― L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea
Alastor glanced around suspiciously at the many cannibals that sat around the shop. Of course, there were any number coming in and out of his shop at any given time, but not like this. Even, he shudders when he notices, Susan. His ears pin back against his will as he sees her walking in and he knows his smile is telling as to how out of his depth he is with the woman.
He cannot stand her.
“Hello Susan!” Given Luci’s bewildered look from across the room, he was not masking his feelings well today.
Tilting her head up to sniff down at him, Susan spilled the beans as to what was going on. “Is Rosie here yet?”
No.
Oh no.
Resisting the urge to slam his head on the table repeatedly washes over him as he contemplates revealing his hand and sinking into the shadows to escape. Then the bells rings, signaling another customer and when he looks up, it's Rosie.
“Alastor!” She waltzed in like she owned the place– which in fairness, she somewhat does, as he currently resides in her territory. As she slides through the crowd, he sees the flicker of a victorious smirk as she spots Luci.
There are few times he has been so thankful for the strange ruddy gray-brown of his skin that he was graced with upon waking up in hell, and this was certainly one of them, as he felt a creeping flush climb up his cheeks. “Rosie.” He rumbles out with a barely there smile.
She cackles behind her hand as she steps beside Susan, waving the other woman off before she can talk. “We will catch up later, Susan. It would be rude to not greet the proprietor!” As Alastor shares a look with Rosie, they both soak in the enjoyment of shutting Susan up.
The moment is quickly lost when the woman huffs away, sitting at a table. “Rosie…While I'm positively thrilled you've come to see me again,” He sets about making her the whiskey laced coffee, “I can't help but wonder about your timing.”
“Well darling, after our last chat,” she simpers behind her hand, “how could I not come and check on your shop!”
He tops the drink with cream and foam, contemplating using the hot pepper powder from Wrath instead of the powdered blood and cinnamon in retaliation. Ultimately deciding to be smart about picking his battles, he shakes the powder he was supposed to over it. Almost against his will, his eyes trailed over Rosie's shoulder to check on Luci. Given the look his friend gave him, he wasn’t subtle.
Luci was staring out the window, deep in thought and sipping on the dredges of his coffee; Alastor automatically begins to prepare another cup for him. Rosie just laughs and sips her coffee as she leans against the bar. “I just had to come see for myself. It's so rare that you speak even remotely nice about anyone.” She leans closer and her voice goes quiet, “Let alone what you were saying about him, Alastor. Can’t blame me for being a little worried!”
Alastor fights his ears as they start to pin back in embarrassment.
Ignoring the Overlord who was grinning at him between drinks, Alastor pumps the disgusting syrups into the cup and pours the now steamed milk. The chortle that follows as he steps from behind the counter, horrifically sweet drink in hand, is also steadily ignored and he quickly strides over to Luci. The man blinks in surprise at Alastor appearing in his sight, a grateful smile blooming as he accepts the new drink. Feeling his own grin softening as Luci happily expresses his delight, he can sense the smug ‘ I told you so ’ that the woman had managed to make him sit through; made him finally understand what was happening.
Something in his chest clenched and had to walk away from the warm grin the goat demon looked at him with. He doesn’t really know what comes out of his mouth as he scrambles for a way out of the interaction, just knows that surprise and then worry slips over Luci’s face.
Running away is not something Alastor has done much of in his life. But then, neither were feelings , and he was less familiar with those than retreating to recuperate. Pulling Nifty aside and asking her to finish taking care of the shop for a few hours was done without thought as he makes his way to the back, gesturing for Rosie to stay when he passes. He needs to be alone right now, to stop thinking and feeling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lucifer looks down at the fresh cup of coffee that had been placed in his hands and then up the retreating back of his… friend? Truly the man was the closest thing he had to it outside of Ozzie. There was the small wriggling feeling of guilt building in his mind at the duplicitous life he led each time he walked through the doors. But it was so nice to not be Lucifer, Big Bad King of Hell. Even if it was just for the handful of hours a week he typically spent here. It was refreshing to be treated like he wasn’t someone to tiptoe around, or someone to be feared. To not be one of the most hated beings, and to have someone be comfortable enough around him to mock him to his face and then turn around and do something like this just because they wanted to.
He sometimes thought about telling the deer sinner who he was. But the draw of just being Luci, an average Sinner, who had the misfortune of looking like a goat, was always more tempting.
It was a good feeling. One that he wanted to hold onto for as long as he could, and he knew that if…when… Alastor found out who he was, all of the warmth and friendship would be rescinded and ruined.
Lucifer had once gifted knowledge to a human, all those long millennia ago, and look where it landed him. No, he could choose to be selfish this once. To put himself in the place of Eve before he tempted her with things she wasn’t supposed to know; to be happy with the way things were and not seek to change them, and be ignorant of the looming problems around him.
June:
“Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame.”
Benjamin Franklin
Alastor may have…miscalculated.
The large, clawed gashes across his side pulsed with every breath, and they hurt . The annoyingly persistent lion demon was more powerful than Alastor had thought– the annoyance having gotten away from the scrap they had the other morning. While not life threatening, they were enough for him to have needed to stitch and wrap them. The heat though was what really was making the whole thing worse. It made the dressing feel sticky and clinging, and the extra layer just made him feel even more sweltering. If the imbecile demon decided to spill some of the skills that Alastor possessed, it would be a setback. Not an impossible one, but more than Alastor was hoping for, especially considering how long it was taking to pull together an amplifier.
“I always forget how hot it gets.” Luci was laying across the couch, bow tie undone and sleeves rolled up. Alastor had half a mind to complain about the other man having his feet up on the couch as he sprawled out, but that would take too much effort. The door was also propped open, both of them hoping for a breeze, though it seemed Hell was exceedingly unforgiving today. “Ugh, would it kill you to have some ice or something here?”
The complaining had been nonstop.
Alastor lets out a groan as he lets the back of his head hit the wall he was leaning against, one hand twitching, wanting to press against the wound. “No, Luci. I somehow have not conjured up some ice in the past twenty minutes since you last asked.” It comes out more clipped and aggravated than he really meant it to, only realizing it because of the soft goat ears drooping slightly.
But that did beg the question: Where was his blasted shipment? It was supposed to come a few hours ago. He was loath to give away the surprise…
There is blessed silence for roughly ten minutes.
“So why do you decorate with antlers and horns anyway? Don’t you have enough of that, you know, yourself?” Luci was, of course, referring to the newest decoration on the wall. “If I didn’t know better,” the man lets out a breathy laugh as he turns a little to be able to look at Alastor, “I would say those are succubi horns.” There is something dark in the smile, something heated in those eyes, but Alastor barely sees it with the way there is a small prickle in the back of his mind.
The Shadow that had been his constant companion had alerted him that his shipment had finally been delivered.
So, it would be fair, he could tell himself later (as an excuse), that that was why he wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t watching his words as carefully as he typically did. It could have nothing to do with how comfortable– quickly, too too quickly– he was around the other demon that he forgot to regulate himself. But the words slipped out, and there was nothing he could blame but himself. “Do you ever just shut up? You have been complaining nonstop. Nothing is keeping you here if it isn’t to your liking. If my shop is too lowbrow for you, you can leave.”
He’s already through the doors by the time he realizes how he said what he did, and registers the goat’s stumbled, broken reply of “O-oh… Yea. Yea, I get told that a lot. I’ll…I’ll leave you alone, Al. er, Alastor.”
The door had barely closed by the time he spun around, eyes wild and an apology on his lips, only to trip out into an empty shop.
The sharp crackle of static feedback rips through him, vibrating his bones until his head feels like it would split. A snap-crack-crunch of bones extending and elongating too quickly runs undercurrent to the squeal, his form extending painfully, and antlers growing far beyond they ever had before.
Alastor slides down the wall, claws pricking against his scalp as he grips the underside of his hair; a tick he thought he lost upon his descent to Hell.
It takes possibly hours before he is able to wrangle his breathing back under control, though his chest still aches. The door had been locked by his Shadow at some point, and his odd Shadow-bound magic clung to the windows, shrouding him from being scrutinized during his breakdown.
Damn his inability to act like a normal, well-adjusted person when he was comfortable. For his words to come out as such cruel, biting things on accident. His eyes burned but no tears came. This was why he didn’t do emotions. They cut into him too deeply, when they did form.
Damn him for being such a cruel man, damn him for taking after his father in that way.
At the end of the night, Alastor was down a pint of, now melted, chocolate ice cream he bargained for from Sloth, his favorite cup (that he always used for Luci, now), and most likely a…friend.
Damn him.
July:
“It’s July and I have hope in who I am becoming.”
— Charlotte Eriksson
The next time Lucifer walked up to Pentagram Coffee, he was clutching the mug he had accidentally stolen when he teleported out. Peering through the window showed Nifty where Alastor usually stood, sitting on a stool and kicking her legs.
Unsurprisingly, as was often the case when she was running the shop, there was not a soul inside.
His brows furrowed as he pushed his way inside, the little chime going off to announce his entry. Nifty jumped up with a near manic grin, all but jumping when she realized who he was. “Mr. Luci!” Offering the small woman a tired smile, he holds up the cup to placate her enthusiasm.
“Hello, Nifty.”
“Oh! You brought back Alastor’s favorite cup!”
It takes a moment for the words to catch up with him as he sets the words on the table, and he blinks at her owlishly. “What do you mean?”
Giggling, she swipes it and hops over to another chair near the sinks, cleaning it. “He uses the cup whenever you aren’t here. You’re the only one who gets it!”
Staring at the cup as Nifty washes it, Lucifer can’t help but think back. The cup itself he recognized from his first handful of times in the café, and Alastor had been using it. It didn't show up in Lucifer’s hands until month three, if he was remembering correctly and it had been the singular one he'd been given since, outside of refills. He honestly hadn't given it any thought beyond the amusem*nt of Alastor drinking out of a red mug that exclaimed ‘Oh Deer!’
Mouth dry and throat tight, Lucifer asks “Why?” but Nifty had already bounced away, cup on the drying rack, as she began to make him a drink.
As though she didn’t even hear him, she moves on to a new topic. “I don’t know how Al makes your drink. He’s never told me, so,” And Lucifer feels a prickle of almost dread crawl up his spine as the woman turns and with a growing grin that could nearly put Alastor’s to shame, threatens, “so now it’s my turn to make you a special drink!”
August:
“August was nearly over – the month of apples and falling stars…”
―Victor Nekrasov
There was a headache building behind his eyes, which really, should be more concerning than it was. Unfortunately, with how tired he was, it was nearly impossible to keep stringing thoughts together. There was a lot of paperwork coming through lately: some up and coming Overlord was starting to, apparently, sell angelic weapons that were leftover from exterminations in the other rings. While he may not care what they get up to against each other, when the other Rings and Hellborn were getting involved, it became a problem for everyone.
Carmilla Carmine.
Maybe not so up and coming; Lucifer recognized the name from the few times he attended Overlord meetings, and from Lilith praising a young Sinner with a head for business and weapons.
Another thing added to the pile of things he needed to keep an eye on.
With a soul-weary groan, Lucifer stands and stretches, back popping. Moving to stand in front of the mirror, he slips into the guise of Luci with a tired smile. A coffee did sound good, and it had been a few weeks since he had last been there. Since Nifty told him Alastor had personal things to handle and wouldn’t be around, he had decided to make himself scarce. Nifty’s coffee concoctions genuinely scared him at times. He would hand it to her though, she was not afraid to get creative. That thought alone brings a shudder that ripples through him, and he hopes Alastor is back. He ignores the soft, hopeful grin that looks back at him from the mirror. He’s just excited to see a friend again though his smiles dims when he remembers how they left things off last time they saw each other. Despite Nifty letting it slip multiple times that Alastor did, in fact, ask her about himself the few times she has seen the deer sinner.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, he snaps open a portal near the café and steps through. Upon entering the shop itself, the very first thing he notices has the several new horns that decorate one of the walls, and it makes something twist in Lucifer’s gut.
Very clearly and blatantly displayed, there were three new sets of Succubi skulls and horns.
It sat like led in his stomach, looking at the skulls of hellborn hanging on display like common animals.
There was a giggle and a shout of “Luci! You’re back!” and only the familiarity of the voice made it possible to reel in the immediate defensive reaction.
“Hey…Nifty.” He still couldn’t take his eyes off the skulls.
“Do you like Al’s new trophies?”
His inhale turned into a sharp hiss at the word, and he turned to the oblivious woman in fury. “His what?”
But Nifty is already dashing back behind the counter and babbling, “Oh what should I make you today!”
It takes several deep breaths, Nifty still chatting to herself in the background, before Lucifer is able to approach her without anger clouding his mind. “Nifty, what did you mean, his trophies?” There is the gentle hiss of the espresso being made before she realized he spoke, blinking at him in confusion. “Those,” and he points to the skulls, "were Demons.” Sinners were the ones who regenerated…not Hellborn. Not his people. “They don't come back. Why did he kill them!?”
He was barely holding back his demonic form until Nifty spoke. “Oh, well, that one, “ and she points to the middle one, “was being a really bad girl and didn't think no meant no.” There was a moment before what she said registered, and then it felt like he had plunged into the depths of Levi’s oceans.
“To…to Al?” How he managed to choke the words out, he'll never know.
“Nooooo. One of the sheep that comes here! Al heard them talk about it.” She stops, mid pour and turns to him. Her singular eye dilating her voice begins to pitch up in whatever frenzy has caught in her mind. “You don't like doing that, do you, Mr. Luci?”
“NO! Nononono noooooo!” Even the thought of that sent his stomach rolling, and it must have shown on his face because the woman calmed down and finished making the drink.
They didn't speak as he went to sit on his seat, all but flinging himself onto it. They still didn't speak when she brought him his drink– in that red, ‘Oh Deer’ mug. The drink itself reminding him of coffee flavored sludge.
They only spoke as Lucifer was getting ready to leave. “Al should be back soon. He misses you!”
His only response is a wane smile, and some mumbled assurances that he would be back.
He has a lot to think about, and memories to reevaluate when it comes to the deer sinner, it seems.
September:
"Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer."
— Wallace Stegner
There was a Goetia in his shop.
Unhidden, plain as day. In his Royal f*cking cloak and all.
Alastor stared up at the owl-looking Goetia with something akin to dread creeping up the back of his mind, though his face showed only a pleasant, friendly smile. The Goetia in question was looking up at the menu with a look of excitement on his face, while talking under his breath. “Oh, Blitzie was right when he said I would like it here!” The bell pinged but Alastor was loath to take his eyes off the single most dangerous being he had met as of yet. “Oh!” The Owl clapped excitedly, “I’ll have the caffé breve!”
“But of course! It shall be done momentarily.” Setting about making the drinks and focusing so much on making sure he wouldn’t give the Goetia a reason to attack him, he forgot to look at and greet whoever wandered into the café. Well, if they were smart, they would leave upon realizing just what was gracing his shop.
Distracted as he was, he only barely registered the Goetia turning and freezing. “Y-your Ma–” Brow furrowing ever so slightly, he leaned to peer around the Owl and saw Luci.
Who was frantically motioning for the Goetia to stop talking, who’s beak clicked shut immediately.
Well, this was both suspicious and answered several questions.
It didn’t appear that Luci had noticed him yet, likely thinking it was still Nifty working. Going about steaming the half and half, Alastor knew there was a choice he could make here. He could let this, frankly, quite hilarious accidental meeting go on without stopping it, and possibly get answers to questions he had been pondering. Or… or he could help Luci maintain this farce he was using to come to the coffee shop. It could make it seem like he didn’t have the faintest idea that Luci was something more than he was trying, badly, to portray himself as a Sinner, but the payoff had to potential to be worth it. Plus his feelings were pushing him to choose Luci over answers.
How annoyingly frustrating. And Pathetic.
“Luci!” His sing-song voice slipped from him before he had consciously made a choice. “My dear, I’m glad to see you back! Nifty has been scolding me for missing you each time you come in.” Both the owl and goat demons whipped around to face him, and he held out the breve to the Goetia. “Here you are, sir. One café breve.” His grin grew as he watched the owl fumble to get the payment ready as he set the drink on the counter to be taken.
Seeing Luci’s face light up once the shorter man realized Alastor was back gave him a fluttering feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Al! You’re back!” Alastor felt his smile loosen into something soft and through half lidded eyes, he watched as the goat demon seemed to take an unconscious step forward before he caught himself and shot a look to the owl, giving him a strained smile. “Stolas.”
Reasoning that he would have a better chance to make it out of the now tense atmosphere– the two Demon’s power was now crackling in the air with their unease– by remaining silent, Alastor set about making the drink he knew Luci would be missing. It was unfortunate that he would have to step to the back, but needs must. He can’t hear what they say once he moves to the back room unfortunately, but he swiftly hops over to the small freezer he has.
Opening it, he is greeted with a label from Idle Hands Creamery. Scooping out two spoonfuls of the creamy, rich chocolate ice cream into a cup, he is reminded of that night a few months ago where he honestly thought he ruined things between himself and Luci. Whatever it was that was going on between them, anyway. Hopefully Luci would understand the gesture. A voiced apology would come after the Goetia, Stolas, left…if it was still required.
Ugh. The apparent lengths he would go through for this man. It was nearly distressing, if he didn’t have Rosie’s advice playing through his head.
Entering back into the main part of the shop, Alastor was dismayed to find his only two customers sitting at a table far from the counter. It was a struggle to not let his ears droop. As he started the espresso machine, he was only able to pick up bits of the conversation. It was unfortunate that Luci’s back was facing him, but being able to see the expressions that the Goetia made was fascinating.
“...doesn’t know?” There was a second pair of eyes that opened on the upper forehead of the Goetia in his surprise.
Luci shook his head. “No. Charlie wanted me to get out of the house and…” The hiss of the machine overpowered his hearing for a moment, cutting off the rest of the sentence. There was also something warping the sound, though air and soundwaves being his domain, it didn't hinder him much. Stolas looked over at Alastor with a wistful smile on his face, and Alastor nearly let out a static screech when the owl set a hand on Luci’s and gripped it tightly, leaning in and whispering something. The gramophone in the corner did skip, letting out a whine before he could get himself under control. Both of the other men turned to look in surprise, and Alastor took the opportunity to move over to them, having finished the new drink.
Setting the ‘Oh Deer!’ cup in front of the goat demon, he waits for the reaction. It did not disappoint. At first, Luci didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t his regular drink until he took the first sip. But then! Then came the delicious reaction of surprise. Those gold eyes widened as he looked down, looking at the slightly frothy drink. The ice cream had started to melt quickly once Alastor had poured the double shots over them, mixing the strong coffee with the rich, sweet chocolate ice cream. Feeling his grin widen, he could only guess that his eyes were practically glowing in his undisguisable excitement.
Stolas picks that moment to drain the rest of his drink, and nod towards Alastor. “Thank you for the delicious drink! I will have to come back to have it again.” Turning to Luci, he gives a small bow. “I’ll contact you soon, my friend!”, and he spins out the door, cape swishing behind him.
Luci and Alastor watch Stolas exit the shop, before Alastor turns to Luci, taking the now empty seat.
“I’m glad you’re back, Al.”
October:
“That time of the year,
When September welcomes October,
They fall for each other,
And then they show their true colors.”
― Charmaine J. Forde
Lucifer made grabby hands at the whiskey coffee that Al was teasing him with.
“Come now Luci, we are sharing embarrassing stories! Surely you have more than just the few.” The cup is handed to him, but Alastor didn’t let it go, choosing instead to loom and lean towards Lucifer with a dangerously charming grin.
Rolling his eyes, Lucifer tries to pull the cup away from the sinner, giving him a stink eye when he refuses. “What do you want to hear now? You already know too much.”
The grin grew larger and he almost regretted asking. “Hmmmm…” The cup is let go, and the liquid sloshes over the rim and onto his hand as he almost drops it. “Just tell me one little thing you do to spend your time that most people don’t know.” The demon picks up his rye and sips it, eyes nearly glowing in mirth.
Taking a sip of the coffee, Lucifer barely covers a cough at how strong Al made it this time around. With the way the deer ears flick, he probably was less successful than he would like. He really shouldn’t keep drinking; he was an unfortunate lightweight, what with Angels not really being built for indulging in excess. Already having three of the boozy coffees, there was a pleasant warmth starting to stick in his gut and brain. “Something I spend time doing, hm?”
He shouldn’t.. He really really shouldn’t.
He snaps his fingers.
He does it anyway.
In a small shower of crimson sparkles, on the counter now sits a red rubber duck. Small, black tipped ears and even smaller antlers sat on top of its head, while its face showed off a grin with yellowed, razor sharp teeth.
The sinner in which the duck was made in the likeness of pauses halfway through another drink, setting the cup down with a perplexed look on his face. “Excuse me?”
Lucifer giggles, tail wagging and ears perking up slightly. “I make rubber ducks.” Alastor lifts his hand and carefully pinches the duck between two claws, holding it up to his face to inspect it. ‘Surely’, Lucifer thinks to himself, ‘some sinner’s can manifest things?’ Spinning to face the shop, a grin crawls across his face as an idea comes to him. “Do you play anything?”
“Several instruments. Though I’m partial to the piano.” The answer is slow in coming, with Alastor still being transfixed by the duck. Eyeing up the empty space next to the gramophone, he wiggles his fingers in that direction and a piano manifests.
Only to nearly fly off his chair when a loud static whine, and a loud squeak came from behind him.
Spinning in alarm, he sees Alastor squeezing the life out of the duck, staring at the piano with wide, black eyes with odd dials as the pupils, and the antlers are larger. His teeth are clenched and glowing. Lucifer can’t help but to stare. It’s the first glimpse he has had, really, of anything demonic from the man outside his appearance. He had wondered if Alastor could display other demonic features, given not all sinner’s could. “Feel like entertaining me?” He gestures to the piano.
It was interesting watching Alastor get himself back under control. The now normal, but still glowing, red eyes flip between himself and the piano rapidly, before choking out “What would you like to hear?”
Lucifer steals the abandoned rye and gives Alastor a sly grin over the rim as he tips it back. “Tartini. The Devil’s Trill. Show me how good you can be, Al.” He actually throws his head back and laughs when that screech sound happens again.
They both freeze when the door chime rings, whipping around to look at who intruded into the space.
A sinner stands in the doorway, half in the store, frozen. The large, frog eyes swing back between Lucifer and Al, seemingly unsure if they should enter. Alastor clears his throat and stands up straight. “Welcome to Pentagram Coffee! Please, come in.” The fake smile is back, and Lucifer rolls his eyes at the deer.
The Frog Sinner does end up coming in, scurrying to the counter. They make a croak sound, low in their throat as they eye the menu. “Um.. An iced coffee?” The Frog is left blinking in what could be distress as Alastor turned to begin the drink before they had finished talking. Lucifer himself was quick to bite the heel of his hand to stifle his laughter. The silence drags on, only broken by Lucifer’s small giggling noises, and the sounds of coffee being made. The Frog clearly gets more nervous the longer it goes on, which just adds to Lucifer’s amusem*nt.
Lucifer loses the battle of keeping silent as Alastor dumps the coffee in a paper cup and shoves it into the webbed hand. The Frog’s yellow eyes go wide as they shove money onto the counter and all but bolt out the door. “That was rude!” The laughter turns into a wheezing sound at the frigid look Al gives him.
Even as he turns them to Alastor, he knows his eyes are probably glowing a soft gold with how relaxed he felt, and how happy. “So, Tartini?”
He was beginning to play a dangerous game.
November:
“November at its best—with a sort of delightful menace in the air.”
— Anne Bosworth Greene
The palace is too quiet, Lucifer decides, as he packs up the small mountain of papers that threaten to overwhelm his desk. He does hesitate for a moment, wondering if taking his papers to the coffee shop is a step too far, but like a whisper in the back of his mind, clawed fingers dance over ivory keys, plucking out the rapid notes of his song, one he was near desperate to join in with his own golden violin. But even in his drunken state he knew that would be a step too far.
As it was, every time he had set foot into the cafè since he had to fight a wince at the piano that still is pushed up next to the gramophone and newspaper racks. With the subtle snake and apple motifs that adorn it, if you knew what to look for.
Snapping the rest of the papers into a briefcase, he decides it doesn’t matter. Al wouldn’t mind; he was always going on about how coffee shops should be a public space to talk, gossip, and work while having the drink. He could glamor the papers so no one saw it was from the Sins– with the next Exorcism coming up soon, there was plenty of paperwork to be finished. So, slipping on his disguise he teleports and makes his way to Pentagram Coffee.
It’s so much earlier in the day than he usually comes, but somehow his couch is still free, which makes him grin. There is a called out “Greetings and Salutations!” when he enters, but with the line Alastor is dealing with, Lucifer doesn’t expect any of the special treatment he usually gets as the sole customer. He does give a wave to Al and Nifty as he unpacks his papers though. Admittedly, he gets lost in his work, losing time and forgetting to head up to place an order for an unknown amount of time. He only vaguely notes that the line never really dies down.
He is halfway through a lengthy suggestion on expanding Ozzie’s sales in the Pride Ring when a familiar, delicious smell pulls his attention away. Lucifer blinks slowly and out of sync as he looks down and sees the familiar red mug with a light topping of foam. Looking around, he doesn’t know how it could have been delivered to him, seeing as Alastor and Nifty are still swamped, but it did somehow happen, because when he catches Al’s eyes, the make gives him a lopsided grin and a small nod. Still utterly confused, Lucifer picks it up and savors the rich, sweet coffee. It’s a welcome distraction, and he doubles down on the papers while he sips at it.
Roughly an hour later, Lucifer was massively regretting coming to the shop. While his palace was too quiet, the shop was so, so loud. So many noises and people and it was getting overwhelming. But it was also a space he almost always found comfort in and the duality was driving him up the wall. He only realized he was shaking when he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a comforting, familiar weight, with the claws lightly pricking his skin through the thin button up he was wearing. “Are you alright?”
Staring up at the sinner for longer than he should have, Lucifer ducks his head, mumbling out “Just a bit too much is all.” Looking up through his lashes, he freezes, not able to remember if he hid what was on the papers, as he sees Al looking over them thoughtfully, another cup of coffee in his free hand.
The other man makes a ‘hmm’ noise. It’s quiet, something Lucifer can barely hear over the noise, but it's familiar and he can feel his shoulders relaxing even more. “Pick up your work and follow me.” Alastor only pauses once to look over his shoulder, making sure Lucifer follows. Which he does, after a scramble to put his papers in the briefcase. Trailing behind the taller man, Lucifer wants to question where he is being directed. Only Alastor’s ears being laid back and slightly off to the side stop him– the sinner seems pensive or embarrassed about something, so he followed and bit back the questions.
He was led to the door he knew led to the back areas and is shocked when Al twists the handle and holds it open for him, gesturing for him to move when he freezes. Alsator leads him past the small kitchenette and into a room he knew about but had never seen. Al’s personal office.
Inside, the red theme continues though it's darker, more muted here. A large desk and wingback chair takes up the majority of the space, though there is a small couch pushed up against the wall, as well as a dresser opposite it. On the dresser is a curious object. Walking in and setting his briefcase on the desk, Lucifer gestures to it, asking “What’s that?”
“Ah, just a small side project I’m working on. It’s a radio!” There is an excitement in Al’s voice, a shift in his demeanor that captivates Lucifer, as the sinner gives a brief explanation as to what it was and how it theoretically should work, and he can’t help but find himself charmed by it all. The man cuts himself off too quickly for Lucifer’s liking, but he understands why, even as a faint blush creeps up the man's face as he excuses himself to return to work.
Lucifer takes some time looking around the office, but doesn’t pry into anything not on display– though the temptation is hard to resist. Finding the duck replica he made of Alastor does bring a flushed smile to his face, and he quickly turns away to look for anything else. He does spot what looks to be a staff that is being worked on tucked away in a corner. Indulging his curiosity a little, he does reach out with his powers and senses only to recoil in surprise. Though it doesn’t appear close to being finished, it has the makings of becoming a powerful artifact. It’s a fascinating look into the potential the Sinner has.
Shaking his head and forcing himself back to work, he removes the papers, smiling as he sips the fresh coffee.
December:
“December’s immaculate coldness feels warm. December feels like blood.”
― Zinaida Gippius
It hits Lucifer one evening, only two weeks before the next Exorcism is set to happen.
Alastor is a Sinner .
Obviously, it was something he objectively knew. But the realization of what that meant was something he never thought to think deeper on.
Now, thought?
It was all he could think about.
For ages he had only made connections with hellborn, and only few and far between acquaintances of sinners. The pain of his forced hand, of okaying Heaven in coming down to cull the population, was always too much to bear when he spoke with Sinners in the past.
Now he was friends with one. Alastor was important to him. Now he had to deal with the consequences of it.
Pacing the workshop, Lucifer runs his hands through his hair, tugging on it, as he tries to think of a solution. He has, in the past– mostly at Lilith’s requests– opened the palace to some Overlords. Not since she left, but he could do it again! The only problem with that being that Alastor was not an Overlord, and if he invited one single, weak Sinner, it would bring up too many questions. He could always just try to bring Al to the palace alone. Except….Except that Adam always seemed to have a painful quip or jab about what he had been doing during the year when they were forced to go over casualties post Exorcism. Like knew things he shouldn't, somehow.
Besides all of that, if he did bring Alastor to the palace, if by some miracle the man accepted, there was the fact that if anyone found out he had the favor of the King, he would be targeted. And despite the decently powerful artifact the man was apparently making, there was little chance the sinner could protect himself from any Overlord that would love to take him as a ransom to try and to force Lucifer’s hand.
He spends the next several days thinking it over, only to realize there was only a day before the Angels would descend and tear his Ring apart.
~~~~~
The next time he shows up to the shop, he is greeted by the unusual sight of Alastor actually being outside the café. It causes him to stop short in surprise as he rounds the corner fresh from teleporting, though he makes himself keep walking when one of those ears flick in his direction and Al shifts just enough to give him an unreadable look– all narrowed, too perceptive, eyes and sly grin.
“Luci!” Even the voice didn’t give any of the thoughts away. “I didn’t hear you coming. I wasn’t sure if I would see you before our unwanted guests arrived.”
Alastor turns back to boarding up the windows.
The offer of protection, of safety is right on the tip of his tongue, catching in his throat and burning. There is an ache in his chest, the old and familiar pain and guilt mixing with this new worry he has.
Distantly, he can feel himself start shivering and his breath stuttering as he tries to force himself to breath and the world narrows until the edges of his vision darken. Far, far away sounding, he can barely hear Alastor’s voice ask “May I touch you?” there were other words, but that was all he could grasp onto.
He nods.
And then a hand is resting on his lower back, gently directing him towards the shop. Even just the familiarity of being alone in the shop was enough to help him breathe a little easier. Al directs him to sit near the piano he manifested and takes Lucifer’s hands in his. He gently sweeps his thumbs over Lucifer’s wrists, rubbing light circles on them. The familiar scent and sounds of the espresso machine being used also helps, until he realizes that means there is another person in here.As though reading his mind, however, Alastor shakes his head, “It’s just us in here. Relax, Little Goat.” Music begins to play, a melody that Lucifer has heard before though never just as a piano solo. The dream-like, gently rolling notes help calm him further and he finds himself finally letting go the tension that was making everything worse. The long building up of the guilt, pain, and anguish from everything having reach its breaking point tonight was finally out and Lucifer couldn’t be more grateful to not be alone.
They stay like that for several minutes while Lucifer tries to get his breathing back under control. Eyes drooping, he lets his head tip forward until it rests on Alastor’s shoulder. The man froze, but didn’t push him away. In fact, a hand began to gently run through his hair, claw tips lightly brushing over his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine. A warm weight is draped over his shoulders and back, and suddenly he is surrounded by the smell of the man he's trusting in his moment of weakness.
It’s a pleasant smell, after so many months. There is a hint of coffee and some musk, but also whiffs of tobacco, whiskey, and something like vanilla. Underneath all of that there is a faint hint of copper and dead vegetation. The copper wasn’t a surprise, though the scent of plants, both fresh and dying was. The mix of smells is not something he had thought of as good , at first, but it grounded him, and in the back of his mind, he wondered when he began to think of the smell of the man as comforting and of something he wanted more of instead of something unpleasant and odious.
Time slips away from Lucifer as he rests there, the shivers that were wracking his frame slowly dissipating. When he finally was able to take a deep breath without it stuttering and catching, Alastor gave one final caress through his hair and let his hand rest on the back of Lucifer’s neck for a moment, squeezing lightly.
“Better now?” There was the curious sound of static lacing the man’s words again; something he rarely heard.
All he was able to give as an answer was a mumbled ‘mmhm’.
There is a muffled chuckle that Lucifer felt more than heard, and Alastor lightly pushes his shoulder to make him lean back. There is a soft smile on the sinner’s face, one that Lucifer had only seen a scant few times. While he was busy staring, a soothingly warm cup was placed in his now free hands as Alastor fixes the blanket that had been draped over him. “You shouldn’t stay here too long. I know you have a place that’s safe from this. You should be there.”
Lucifer bites the inside of his cheek to keep from spewing out pleas for Al to come with him.
A look is leveled at him, Alastor’s eyes nearly glowing with some emotion. “Knowing you are safe will…” he looks off to the side, pained look on his face and despite everything that had led up to this, Lucifer can’t help but let out a small breathy laugh “Just get home, Luci.” Lucifer can hear the unspoken plea, and even knowing that he will be able to do nothing but worry about the sinner, finds himself nodding.
“Fine. But promise me you’ll make it through this?”
The music that’s playing swells for a moment, dominating the silent, tense moment between them.
Laughing in response, Alastor stands and holds out a hand to help Lucifer up. “I have many plans, Little Goat, and none of them involve being killed.”
It’s not a promise.
But how can Lucifer demand one? Neither knows how the following day will go and to make such a promise would be asinine.
Somehow though, it's enough.
“Alright, Al. See you in two days.”
It isn’t until he teleported himself into his room that he realized the blanket was still weighing comfortably on his shoulders, holding that familiar, calming scent.
And if the blanket ended up on his bed until the smell wore off, well, that was something only he needed to know.
