#but zhao just starts doing it for him as well and lucifer is oddly silent about the packed lunches after that

[journey-to-the-attic]

brainrioting over domestic zhaolu and stepdad! zhao especially. pls im thinking about him taking care of lucifer's little brothers and satan and belphie literally adore him so much (crying)

STEPDAD ZHAO!! he speaks to the teachers for belphie when he's caught sleeping in class or was too tired to do his homework and nearly always gets him let off the hook. after a while belphie starts getting genuinely sulky if zhao goes too long without tucking him into bed

(mammon's like "aren't you embarrassed, you're a grown demon" and belphie just chucks a pillow at him and goes to ask zhao to make him some hot chocolate)

he brings satan snacks whenever he's fixated on a book and tries to make them cat-themed whenever possible... one time satan gets a bowl of carrots cut into wonky cat-head shapes and he doesn't even like carrots, but he still eats them all

he talks to shop workers when levi's too nervous to, makes sure beel always has access to something nice and filling, helps asmo film stuff and is like 'you're doing great champ!!' the whole time, and is very painstakingly teaching mammon how to cook :')

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 16: lucifer, dad, aunt / home visit

ao3 link

note: finally got back to these! very quickly: lisa (aunt) has met satan and belphie but no one else, and zhao (dad) knows all the brothers already and specifically knows lucifer better at this point - the background things are stuff i intend to write in future. also i wasn't completely sure if the request wanted zhaolu, so i left it ambiguous (this would be pre- any relationship anyway, so take it as you like!)

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“I’m back! Where’s— huh, Lucifer?”

Lucifer lowers his glasses and polishes away the fog. “Welcome home.”

“...hi?” I dump my bag by the door and change into my slippers, then return to the kitchen door. He’s still there. “What’s the occasion?”

After all, last I checked, Lucifer had some pretty strict rules about hopping between worlds - special occasion birthday visits not counted, of course. At this, though, he just smiles mysteriously.

“Nothing in particular.” He takes a sip of his tea, then quirks an eyebrow at me. “Well? Tell me about your day.”

…sure, I decide, because as much as I’m suspicious about his reasons for being here, I’m still happy to see him. I pull up the chair opposite him.

Lucifer hasn’t been up here that many times, especially compared to Mammon or Satan (the latter who visits whenever he’s allowed, and the former who visits even when he isn’t) - but he looks completely at home in our kitchen. Oddly pleased with himself as well, though I have no idea what about.

A little smile stays on his face through one, two, three stories - he asks me to show him the pictures from a school trip to the maritime museum, and to send him the one of me sitting in a model submarine so that he can show the others. In return, he has a video of Mammon trying to teach a roc to swear.

“You can do it,” encourages the blurry Mammon on the screen, holding a little biscuit just out of reach. “C’mon, smart guy!”

The roc tucks its beak into his wing sulkily and doesn’t make a sound. Mammon tries fruitlessly for another little while, then ultimately throws up his hands and walks off.

Whoever’s behind the camera doesn’t move - they point it at the roc and wait silently. Sure enough, after barely a minute, it mumbles, “Son of a bitch.”

“He still hasn’t figured out its trick,” Lucifer says as I laugh. “It learns, but it doesn’t want him to know he taught it.”

“Does it have a name?”

“Would you like to give it one?”

“Ohh, can I?” I lean forward and peer closer at the roc in the video for a moment. “Mmm… Connie. Looks like a Connie.”

“Connie it is,” He says, smile widening.

At that moment, Dad totters unsteadily into the kitchen, lugging a cardboard box. Lucifer rises from his seat, then pauses.

“Careful— careful, mind! You’ll do your back in!”

“I have it,” Dad says through gritted teeth, and finally sets it down with a rather worrying crash. “There. Thank you.”

“You haven’t let me do anything,” Aunt Lisa says, disgruntled. A split second later, as if sensing him somehow, she turns and looks Lucifer directly in the face.

He freezes on the spot. Aunt Lisa scans him, and I can see her mentally taking notes on everything she sees - red eyes (weird, but could be contacts), extremely tall (unusual, but not impossible), and distinctly too well-dressed for having tea in someone’s kitchen.

“Hello,” She says smoothly, and if I didn’t know better I’d think she was completely unperturbed.

Lucifer clears his throat. “Hello.”

Neither of them make any move to introduce themselves. I catch Dad’s eye. He’s wearing the face of someone who completely forgot he had a guest over.

“Um,” He says. “This is Lucifer.”

Aunt Lisa barely blinks. “I see. Hello, Lucifer. Should I call you Mister?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” He’s starting to look distinctly uncomfortable. I guess Avatar-of-Pride street cred only counts in the company of people who actually know what that means.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” She says, folding her arms and leaning back against the counter. “From your brother. And your other brother.”

“That does not narrow it down,” He replies stiffly. She snorts.

“Tea?” I ask, then hurry to the sink without waiting for an answer. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

Dad taps the counter nervously as it begins to hiss. Then, probably a little too late, he adds, “Lucifer, this is Lisa…”

“Ms. Cassidy to you,” She tacks on sharply, and Dad and I exchange wide-eyed looks.

Neither Belphie nor Satan got the surname-only treatment. Heck, most of her clients don’t get the surname-only treatment. Then again, Satan and Belphie are quite possibly the worst demons for Aunt Lisa to have gotten her first impressions of Lucifer from, even if they didn’t just outright lie for fun.

I try to remember what I might have told her about him. It’s not like I’ve given her any horror stories, but I guess there are a lot of Lucifer traits that only become likeable once you’ve gotten used to his personality...

The kettle finishes boiling. I clear my throat and occupy myself with making the tea. Maybe I should be doing more to dissolve the tension, but I kind of don’t know how - besides, I didn’t even know Lucifer would be here today. I haven’t had any time to prepare a defence for him - no powerpoint, flashcards, anything...

Dad fiddles anxiously with his watch for a moment, then suggests (though he sounds more like he’s making a plea), “Everyone - sit down?”

Aunt Lisa gives Lucifer one more long look, then shrugs and pulls up a chair. Lucifer waits for her to sit down properly before doing the same.

“So what do you do for a living?” She asks him smoothly.

He opens his mouth and pauses. I realise that I don’t actually know the answer to that question, either - does he count as a government worker? Something teacher-adjacent? Actually, the others aren’t in employment, either. Where do they get their money from?

“I’m…” Lucifer deliberates over his words for a moment. ‘Deputy head of the student council’ probably wouldn’t sound very impressive, but technically 'second-in-command to the prince' isn't a title he officially has, and could arguably belong to Barbatos. “Ahem...”

“He works for Diavolo,” I say helpfully. “The prince.”

“The prince,” Aunt Lisa repeats. The corner of her lip twists slightly. “And what do you do - polish his shoes? Put on a jingly hat and dance?”

It isn't the 1600s anymore! Lucifer’s mouth tightens. Before he can get out a scathing reply, I interject again, “He does admin and stuff.”

“Oh, so you’re the paperwork guy,” She says with some dry amusement, pausing briefly to give me a smile as I set her tea down. “And are you busy? Managing hell, I mean.”

“...we don’t run the whole Devildom from one office.”

“No, I suppose you don’t.”

I opt to stay by the counter as the exchange continues, like a game of extremely terse ping-pong. Dad - watching all of this with a kind of slowly mounting dread - abruptly starts rifling around in the cupboard.

“Biscuits,” He says a little breathlessly, setting a plateful on the table with a loud clack!, effectively breaking the momentum of the match.

Aunt Lisa breaks eye contact with Lucifer for the first time in the last ten minutes to give Dad a fond smile. “Thanks, love.”

Lucifer shoots her a funny look - which I'm pretty sure he doesn't think anyone sees - and schools his expression straight back to neutrality when Aunt Lisa turns back to him. She pushes the plate forward a little.

“Custard cream?” She suggests sweetly.

“...thank you.”

She quirks a brow and settles back, focusing on her mug. Lucifer regards her carefully, then lifts the biscuit to his mouth.

As soon as his mouth is full, Aunt Lisa asks, “How much does the prince pay you?”

Lucifer’s face twitches. Having to hold up the illusion of courtesy is clearly beginning to get to him. He drains the last of his tea, then releases a sigh.

“Whatever it is you want to say to me, say it.” He doesn’t bother answering her question. “Say it. There’s no need to beat around the bush.”

“Alright.” Aunt Lisa fixes him with a cold look. “I don’t like you.”

A long pause. Dad dithers briefly, then sits down as well. Rather than mitigating the tension, though, it only seems to manoeuvre around him, like water around a rock in the middle of a river - no more words are said, but they’re both staring hard enough for the tension to practically become verbal. One after another, while they don't think the other's paying attention, both Aunt Lisa and Lucifer shoot him mildly apologetic looks.

“You’ve only just met him,” I decide to come to Lucifer's defence, seeing as he doesn't seem to intend to do it himself. “You don’t really know him."

“From what I’ve heard, I don’t want to.”

Lucifer’s brow creases. Then realisation dawns, and he turns to me with an unimpressed frown. “Satan and Belphie?”

“Probably Satan and Belphie,” I confirm with a mild grimace, and he gives another, longer sigh.

“Ms. Cassidy,” He starts after a moment, perfectly collected again, “I hope you realise that my younger brothers aren’t going to give you objective assessments of my character.”

She snorts. “Does Zhao think it’s cute when you use big words?”

“Have another biscuit,” Dad mutters before Lucifer can respond, shoving the plate towards her with maybe a little more force than necessary. “...A-Ke, can you let Hyde in?”

“Eh?” I listen for a moment. Sure enough, there’s a scratching from the kitchen door.

Hyde meows loudly as soon as it opens, then slips in before it can shut again. He scans the room with enormous green eyes, notes the foreign person, and immediately makes a beeline in his direction.

“...hello,” Lucifer says in mild surprise as Hyde rubs his cheek against his leg. “Where did you come from?”

He leans down to give him a scratch behind the ears. Aunt Lisa watches all of this with what can only be described as an air of betrayal. I don’t know what she was expecting - Hyde’s the friendliest old man any of us know.

Hyde’s favourite treat also happens to be cheese from our fridge, so I get him a little chunk and wave Lucifer over. He seems relieved to get away from the table (though he'd never admit it, of course). Under my whispered instruction, he crouches down and gingerly proffers the cheese in an open palm.

“You’ve met already,” Aunt Lisa notes, then turns her stare on Dad, who quickly looks in the other direction. “How many times has Lucifer been in your kitchen, Zhao?”

“I haven’t counted…”

“And you didn’t think I’d want to meet the man who kidnapped your daughter?”

“That’s not fair,” I object. “I got summoned. And it was Diavolo, not Lucifer. That’s different.”

Aunt Lisa turns to look at the two of us, still crouched beside Hyde, who’s devoured his cheese and is now sniffing at Lucifer’s sleeves for more. The look on her face is… dangerous. “Do you think that makes it any better?”

I’m just trying to make things less tense. I blink at her nervously, then reply, voice tiny, “No?”

Lucifer glances at me, then sighs and stands up straight again. Hyde lets out a dismayed meow, but immediately forgets about the non-existent cheese he was looking for as I start scratching his chin.

“Ms. Cassidy,” Lucifer says, suddenly sterner now, “I realise that we made several ill-advised choices, but IK was not involved in any of those decisions. I’d appreciate it if you left her out of this discussion.”

“Not involved? They happened to—” Aunt Lisa cuts herself off, then folds her arms. “No. Fine. I've plenty to say, mind - I just promised I wouldn’t go on about it.”

Hyde trills and flops down on his side. I run my hand down his fur as he purrs, keeping one eye on Lucifer as he crosses the room to take his seat again.

“We made the decision before we’d met IK," He says. "Now that I understand - I’d be furious if I’d been in your place, too. I don't blame you.”

“Understand what?” She asks, challenging.

Lucifer doesn’t falter. “Believe it or not - IK is an irreplaceable part of our family.”

I quickly look down at Hyde to disguise a smile. Aunt Lisa doesn’t seem to have a response for that - after a moment, I hear a crunch, and look up just in time to see her give him a begrudging nod, biscuit in mouth.

Neither of them says anything. Lucifer picks up his cup, then sets it down again.

“Mrs Prescott has a new rabbit,” Dad says a little helplessly as the silence stretches on. “Across the road. It’s very cute.”

“That’s nice, Zhao,” says Aunt Lisa.

“What’s its name?” Lucifer asks.

Panic crosses his face. “I… don’t remember.”

Hyde’s purring slows and quietens. He looks backwards at Lucifer, then twists to look at Aunt Lisa. I play idly with one of his paws, then stand up.

“Bake Off’s on tonight,” I say. “Let’s watch it together, shall we?"