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Alastor has had a very… very long day.
For starters—he woke up and Lucifer had absolutely vanished. Well, not really. He did leave a note and a rubber duck. The note said:
“Baby!
I’m gonna help Char-Char plan some activities for the hotel.
You looked tired as hell (no offense) do I figured you’d bite me if I woke you up, so I just let you sleep.
You’re so pretty!
I love you! -Luci
P.S. you look so fucking adorable when you sleep, see you tonight!”
It was cute, sure, but not as cute as waking up with him (fucked) tucked into Alastor’s arms.
Next—when he went downstairs Angel Dust and Husker had been in the middle of a very unnecessarily loud argument over… something. Al hadn’t even had his coffee yet and there was yelling.
Then—Vaggi forced him to help decorate the hotel for the party Charlie was going to throw for Angel’s birthday. And then when he agreed to help, she criticized every single thing he added.
“Alastor, you cannot put blood-popping-balloons here for Angel’s birthday party!”
“Why?” He complained “They are rather tasteful. And have a lonely surprise at the end!”
“Because not everyone’s a sadistic maniac!”
Truly, no one here has ANY artistic abilities.
And worst of all—Lucifer was not even around to yell back at Vaggi. She was being an utter pain in Alastor’s ass and he didn’t even get to bear witness!
Awful. Absolutely. Entirely.
Alastor was also just… exceedingly exhausted today. He doesn’t know why or what caused it. But nothing feels right today.
So here he is, slumped in an armchair inside his little bayou pocket-dimension, sipping a whisky and smoking a cigarette.
His ears are pulled back, sleeves rolled up, and shirt half undone. His usual “shit-eating grin” as people like to call it has been replaced by a tired, almost nonexistent smile.
It would have been FULLY nonexistent if it weren’t for Hell’s cruel idea of a joke.
“Oh, Alastor, you used to smile nonstop in life? Ok, how about you lose the ability to stop smiling entirely?”
Truly sadistic, and not the good kind.
Alastor takes a long drag from the cigarette, feeling the nicotine and smoke fill his lungs. It doesn’t make him cough—he’s been smoking too long to—but it does burn in such a good way.
God, he can see why these things are so addictive.
“Knock knock, buttercup!” Lucifer grins, walking into Al’s bedroom without actually knocking. But then he freezes and raises an eyebrow. “You smoking again?”
“No.” Alastor says quickly, though he doesn’t even attempt to hide the cigarette.
“Liar.”
“Cockwomble.”
“What did you just call me?” Lucifer raises an eyebrow again. Really, is that all the man does?
“A cockwomble.” Alastor says plainly. “It’s a male who says inappropriate or obnoxious things on a regular basis.”
“Ouch.” Lu frowns. But then his tone softens. “I haven’t seen you all day, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Alastor huffs and crosses his arms. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Cut the bullshit, babe.” Luci rolls his eyes. “I know you better than that.”
Al scoffs and brings him knees to his chest, falling silent for a while. Finally, after he realizes Lucifer isn’t going ti simply leave him alone, he says quietly, “Come here, Lucifer.”
The king follows orders, walking over and sitting next to him on the floor.
Al puts the cigarette back in his mouth, but doesn’t breathe in. He just… holds it there.
“What happened today, Bambi?”
Lucifer leans his head back against the arm of the chair.
Alastor finally just closes his eyes and sighs. “Everything felt so wrong today. Nobody listened to me, and Vaggi is… annoying. And you were not there to yell at her.” He harrumphs and glares at the bayou stars.
“I’m really sorry, Al. That’s never a good feeling.” Lu stands up and sits on the chairs arm, legs crossed and claws lightly scratching at the deer’s scalp—enough to make delicious pressure that has his chest rumbling in a purr. “I just had some shit to take care of with Charlie. But I’m all yours tonight, baby.”
Alastor looks up at him in that adorable way he only does when he’s sad. “All night?”
“All night.” The Devil nods, stroking Al’s hair away. “You wanna take a warm bubble bath?”
Alastor’s nod is so small anyone who didn’t know him would miss it. But Lucifer did know him. He knew his pretty little deer better than anyone.
“Come on, big boy.” Lucifer scoops Al out of the chair bridal style, carrying him out of the bayou and to their shared bedroom.
Lu flops him down on the bed, ruffling his hair and kissing in between his big fluffy ears, making them twitch. “I love you, doe-eyes.” Then he walks into the bathroom and turns on the tap.
A cloud of lavender-scented steam floats through the room, bubbles starting to fill the tub.
“You ready, hon?” Lucifer calls through the bedroom.
“Mmm…” Alastor hums.
Not a terrible ending to a bad day, he supposes.