#it’s sure been a weekend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dont-offend-the-bees · 3 months ago

Text

We Glimpse Each Other Out of Phase

Hello lovelies; rough weekend, huh? I've had this one roughly drafted for a couple of weeks and was planning to keep it in my back pocket as a Deadboyween prompt fill. However, given the cancellation news, I think maybe we could all use a little gentle melancholy comfort right now. So I cleaned it up a bit, and I hope you will take this little snippet as the warm hug it is intended as 💛 So this technically follows on from/is set in the same universe as my Painland Week fic Something I Can Turn To. A fic which I basically intended to leave as a one shot, but I got quite invested in the universe and have been absolutely blown away by the response to it. So it became a collection which now features, as well as my own fic, two wonderful fics by williamvapespeare and one by Ingi, and I would heartily recommend you check them out if you enjoy this story or my original one! That being said, you probably CAN read this without having read the first story, I just wouldn't personally recommend it, you'll be missing a lot of context and backstory! 3.7k, rated T, also available on Ao3 (registered users only!) Part One (Something I Can Turn To) on tumblr

Charles may have had a bit of a rough go of it growing up, but there'd been quiet moments, too. Most of 'em in a rickety old attic, with the only lad in the entire world he could trust with just about anything.

But there were peaceful times at home, too. Safe ones. Mostly at night. Long as he was quiet, didn't cry too loud or stomp about, he could get through eight-ish hours unbothered. Sure, sometimes he had to pace around the room a bit, silent on sock feet just to shake out the excess energy that wouldn't let him sleep but honestly? He bloody loved sleeping. Couldn't get enough of it. Long as he didn't make a fuss, didn't draw attention, he could sink into his bed in the cellar room and just sort of... bob out of his life for a bit. Like a smoke break, but better for his health. If he was dead lucky, he'd even stumble into Edwin's arms in his dreams; pass the time there 'til morning, when it all kicked off again.

So it wasn't easy, getting used to night shifts. It was a fair trade-off for all the other freedom in his life lately but bloody hell, did it sting a bit, losing that time. That dark, quiet nothing where he could be nothing, too, just for a bit. There was almost something sacred about it. Something he hadn’t known was important to him ‘til it was gone.

At least the night shift was pretty quiet, usually. Most of the people who needed to use a gym at two in the morning weren't exactly there to socialise. Charles' job pretty much amounted to half-dozing at reception and handing someone a towel now and then. He'd not had many nutjobs to deal with or fires to put out.

Then again, maybe a good disaster was what he needed just to stay awake. Christ, he was shattered. Took him a good few tries to get the key in the lock when he finally staggered home.

Charles was sad — but not surprised — to find the kitchen light on when he fell through the door.

He rolled his eyes. "Honey," he called, jokingly, the endearment all funny and wrong on his tongue. He'd call Edwin a lot of things — mate, love, best friend, fucking soulmate — but honey? Mingin'. "I'm home."

Edwin's reply was half a second too slow — textbook Edwin guilt response. Like when your cat didn't jump off the counter fast enough to pretend it hadn't been there in the first place. "Good evening, Charles."

"Good morning, more like," said Charles, drawing the bolts — all three of them — across and dropping his bag in a sloppy heap by the door. His coat came next, then each shoe, leaving a trail behind him as he stumbled towards the voice. The hallway felt too short and dark to be called a hallway, really. Looked more like a cupboard where someone had shoved a load of loose doors they had lying around. There was one to the kitchen, one to the bathroom, one to the bedroom that was basically also their living room. Plus a bunch of other weird little cupboard doors and hatches and grates and things, none of which led to anything you’d logically expect them to. It was a shambles, really. A 'paint it magnolia and fob it off on the students' sort of ruin. But it was home. Even bone-tired, he still found the energy to lock gaze with the weird eye-motif lamp Edwin had picked up somewhere and put on one of the non-shelves, and give it his customary wink. Felt wrong not to. Unlucky, somehow.

A fanlike halo of yellow light spread across the hallway carpet as he pushed open the kitchen door. He found more or less what he'd expected to find behind it. Edwin: sat prim and proper at the scuffed-up little table, surrounded by books and doing a bang-up impression of someone with no bloody idea what time it was. His chin, tucked elegantly behind his curled knuckles in that little thoughtful pose of his, lifted at the sound of the door. His eyes found Charles and narrowed, just a little, sketching a pleased little crinkle or two at the corners.

"Charles," he greeted once again, voice softer this time. "How was your shift?"

Edwin hadn't had those laugh lines when Charles had met him. Seeing as he was twelve, and not exactly full of reasons to smile. Charles wasn't gonna take full credit for them, or anything, but... well, not many other people putting in the legwork, were there?

He dragged in a breath and let it out again, sharply, puffing it out in a raspberry. "Same old."

Charles crossed the kitchen in about three steps (it wasn't a big kitchen), clocking Edwin's book of choice on the way. Some textbook with a long-winded title that basically translated to lawyer gubbins. He put a hand on Edwin's shoulder — and Edwin tilted his head easily, offering his cheek for a kiss. Charles grinned and pressed one to the tail end of one of those little lines.

"Burning the midnight oil?" asked Charles, nicking one of Edwin's favourite expressions. He always seemed to pick up the ones that made him sound about a hundred years old.

Edwin hummed, carefully noncommittal. "I must have lost track of time."

"Could've counted these, for a start," said Charles, tapping the little saucer on the table. It was piled high with used teabags, like some damp and deranged game of Jenga. "Might've given you a clue."

"I've been rather busy," Edwin sniffed, turning the page in his book. "Lots of swotting to be done before my lecture on Monday."

"Right, that's what this is, is it?"

"What else would it be?"

Charles reached out, pinched the book Edwin was reading at the centre, and slid it out of the bigger, decoy book he was holding with its cover facing out. "Oldest trick in the book, mate. Literally," he grinned. He lifted Edwin's secret reading into his arms, having a flip through. "Y'know, most people only pull that move when they've got dirty mags to hide.”

Edwin cleared his throat. Even in the dim light of the table lamp, Charles clocked the embarrassed flush on his cheeks. "Well," he said, setting the law textbook he absolutely wasn't reading on the table. "It does get rather draining, this intensive focus on one subject. I felt the need for a brief diversion."

Charles closed the secret book, glancing at the cover. "Anthropology, again. Like that one, don't you?"

"Hm. There's much to explore; it encompasses a rather broad area of study." Edwin took it back and slid it, sheepishly, behind the pile of other law volumes stacked at his elbow. "It's a fascinating subject."

"Should've applied for it," said Charles, gentle. He rubbed Edwin's shoulder absently — getting a little more intent when he felt Edwin melt a bit, his knotted muscles loosening under Charles' digging thumb. "Or any of the other five million bloody things you're interested in. Y'know, 'stead of the one thing you're not."

"I am interested in it!" Edwin blustered.

Charles raised an eyebrow at him.

Edwin sighed. "I am," he said, bit quieter. "It's just not all I'd like to be doing. But it was the right choice, of that I'm quite certain."

Charles sighed and stepped around him, coming to lean on the table, arms crossed. Their eyes met across the short distance. "Look. If you say it's alright, it's alright. I'll believe you, mate, honest I will."

He nudged Edwin's toe with his own, sock to holey sock. "But, y'know. Not for nothing, but at school you was always going on about all that stuff you wanted to do. Bloody... archaeology in Peru, and whatever else. Just don't see how a law degree gets you there, is all."

Edwin leaned back in his chair a bit, steepling his fingers. "Well, no. No, it doesn't get me to Peru; or Pompeii, or Patagonia —"

"Or anywhere beginning with a 'p'," Charles teased.

Edwin's lips twitched up in a little smile. "But it will get us somewhere. A great many somewheres, I imagine. As degrees go, it opens rather a lot of doors."

Charles cocked his head, squinting fondly. "'Us'?"

"Obviously, Charles," said Edwin, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Like a reality where he didn't bring Charles wherever he went wasn't worth considering.

Charles grinned, ducking his head.

"I'm sure you'll chastise me for my cynicism," Edwin continued, oblivious to Charles and his soppy moment. "But... Well, given the somewhat rocky beginnings you and I have encountered in life, I thought it best to..."

"What? Play it safe?"

"Yes," said Edwin. Firm, unapologetic. "Exactly. Because I would very much like for both of us to be safe in life, Charles."

"We are! Well," Charles shrugged, scratching at his nose with a wince. Still ached a bit sometimes, all told, even though the break was years ago. "We are now."

"And I would like for it to stay that way."

"It will!" Charles half-perched on the table, and nudged Edwin's leg with his big toe. "I'll look after us, won't I?"

Edwin looked up at him, and his eyes softened. Fuck, but he had the kindest bloody eyes — least when he turned them on Charles he did. His hand landed on Charles' knee, gentle as you like; rubbing small circles with his thumb like Charles had done on his shoulders.

"You've done more than enough already, Charles," he said, looking him dead in the eye; not letting him hide for anything. "It's only fair I look after you, too, now and again. Especially when it's within my power to do so."

Charles laughed, a thin, hitching sort of thing. His eyes felt all prickly. Fuck, he couldn't go crying on him, now — his eyeliner'd smudge everywhere, it'd be so obvious.

"Look after me," he mimicked, catching Edwin's hand in his, stealing it all for himself. "You gimme a bloody reason to wake up in the morning, mate. What else d'you need?"

Edwin opened his mouth, brows going all scrunched up like they did at the start of a concerned lecture. Charles ducked in and shushed him quicksharp with a kiss.

"Not saying I'm about to, like, off myself if you chuck me, or anything," he laughed against his lips, fondness glowing in the grate of his ribs like smouldering coals. He chased the kiss with a smaller one, to the corner of Edwin's mouth; the scratchy dusting of his five o'clock shadow. "I'd just wallow about being proper depressed, so. Don't chuck me, please?"

Maybe he was clinging a little too hard for his tone of voice. Maybe he was giving it all away in the hands — always such desperate, grasping fucking things. Always his problem, the hands. How they grabbed things, hit things, did things before his brain always had the chance to catch up. How long 'til Edwin got sick of Charles hanging onto him like a life raft, dragging him down with his dead weight? How long 'til the bones in Edwin's hands started to creak from being clutched too tight?

But Edwin just scoffed, quietly — completely failing to hide that little spark of humour in his eyes. "I hardly think that's a possibility, Charles," he said, lifting his other hand to pat the back of Charles'. His soft fingertips kissed feather-light against Charles' grazed, calloused knuckles. "Honestly,” he sighed, dramatically. “Here I sit, talking about the devastatingly boring career I'm attempting to get off the ground in order to keep you in the manner to which you've become accustomed, and you think I'm about to chuck you."

He shook his head, crow’s feet crinkling and bloody hell. Charles loved him so much it felt overwhelming, sometimes. Like he needed a whole extra heart in his chest just to store it all.

Charles kissed Edwin's hand and flopped, happily, onto his lap, grinning at the mild ‘oof’ it shoved out of him. Grinning even wider when Edwin's other arm wrapped around Charles’ waist without a second thought. Edwin was a bit picky about personal space, for good reason — not with Charles, though. Charles had a standing invitation and he put it to bloody good use.

"Bet you could make a weird job work for you too, y'know," said Charles, dropping his next peck to Edwin's forehead as he sank into his lap. His head felt heavier already; only thing keeping him going was the effort of holding himself upright. Draped over Edwin like a blanket, he could've just dozed off right then and there. But the kitchen chair was creaking threateningly, so. Probably a bad idea. "I know the weird stuff's usually more competitive and that, but you're that smart. You'd run rings round the others, mate, get ahead of the game."

He flung his arms round Edwin's shoulders, scratched at the back of his head, the hair at his nape. It was a little longer than Edwin liked it. He needed a trim. So did Charles, really; his racing stripes had grown out and he kept having to blow stray curls out of his eyes. But they were saving their pennies any way they could. "You could go do something interesting, something a bit barmy," said Charles. "Something with a bit of adventure, yeah? Or at least where you get to have your nose in interesting books all day. You'd love that."

Edwin sighed, resting his cheek against Charles' shoulder as his eyes drifted shut. "That does sound compelling. But I've rather made my bed, Charles; I’ve no money coming in at all if I don’t study for it. And it is interesting, in moderation. Besides, it..."

"What?"

"It seems... like a decent thing to do." The warm weight of Edwin's arm squeezed Charles' waist. "Something I could do a modicum of good with."

Charles heard a rustle, and glanced over his shoulder. Edwin's other hand was flicking through the law book on the table, clever fingers finding the module he wanted without even checking the contents. Charles had to squint at it a moment, his exhausted eyes skittering off the page. He thought he saw 'human' and 'rights' in that word soup of a title.

He softened. "Eds..."

"I merely thought..." Edwin made a little noise of frustration in his throat, angling his face further into Charles. Speaking so soft it almost got lost in his skin, words lodging small and timid in his bones. "So many years, Charles. Trapped at the mercy of other people, no one caring if we lived or died, I... I could do something about it. Learn the right words to say, the right arguments, the right resources. So no one else need..."

Sometimes it fucking killed Charles, that there were people out there who thought Edwin was some... some selfish, spoiled rich toff with no feelings. As if he wasn't the kindest bloody person in the world; as if he hadn't had to carve that kindness out himself with his bare, bleeding hands.

Edwin sniffed. “It was just an idea,” he mumbled. “A silly idea.”

Charles shook his head, stroked Edwin's hair. "S'not a silly idea, love. Not silly at all."

Edwin never struggled to find his words like this — and he definitely didn’t mumble them. Words were his weapons, and he could go toe-to-toe with the best of 'em, talk bloody circles 'round his opponents.

Charles looked from him to the stack of books, the tower of teabags. The plastic clock on the wall, its hands marching on into the morning.

"Aw, mate," he said, rubbing the back of Edwin's neck — and dropping a kiss to the top of his head. "You're dead on your feet, in’t you?"

"I'm perfectly fine," Edwin grumbled. "And I've tests to study for —"

"Tests in subjects you're not bloody taking? Yeah, right." Charles bit his lip, cuddling Edwin's head against his chest. "Can't sleep, can you?"

Edwin was quiet a moment, breathing nice and steady into Charles' throat.

"It's still... difficult," he said.

Three door bolts and four hundred miles was a start, but bad memories had a way of following you about. Charles closed his eyes and breathed in, nice and slow; hoping Edwin could feel it in his chest, find a nice rhythm in his rising ribs.

"Edwin," he said, nuzzling into his hair. "On my life, mate — one of these days, you and me are gonna be so bloody set you'll be able to do whatever you want. Go back to uni fifty times, hundred times, don't care. Study for the rest of your life, if you want.” He tapped Edwin’s temple. “Cram everything that's ever interested you in that big brain of yours. Promise you."

It shouldn't've felt like taking a bloody knight's oath, whispered words at the kitchen table at stupid o'clock in the morning. But Christ, he'd fought off enough dragons to get ‘em here, hadn’t he?

He felt Edwin's smile against his skin, followed by the little dry brush of his kiss. "You could, too. If you liked," he said. "Get your A-levels, apply for university..."

Charles laughed, shaking his head. "Not sure I could keep up."

"Charles," Edwin admonished, in that stern teacher voice that was cuter (and fitter) than it had any right to be. "You're exceptionally bright."

"Ah, come on, mate," Charles mumbled, squirming. Edwin's arm round his waist locked as if it could sense an escape attempt incoming.

"You are. I remember your grades, before... well. Everything that occurred." He smoothed down the collar of Charles' fuck-ugly work shirt. "It's hardly your fault your final years went awry as they did. You could go back, take some courses at the local college. Try again."

"Right, sure."

Edwin huffed, frustrated. "I'm being quite serious, in the event that wasn't obvious."

"When aren't you?" Charles chuckled. He stared at the wall, at the stupid fucking boyband calendar their kooky upstairs neighbour gave Edwin for Christmas. Most of the writing on it was Edwin's, neat and tiny, scheduling tests and lectures and study blocks. Most of Charles' additions were just the word 'WORK', scribbled in on scattered days — more so Edwin knew when he was coming and going, rather than for his own benefit. Always different days, different times. Shift work; no chance to form a routine. He was never great at that, anyway.

"Not even sure what I'd do," he mumbled.

Edwin's palm on Charles' waist rubbed, soothing, grounding. "You never had something you wanted to study?" he asked. "Something you wanted to go into?"

"I..." His brow furrowed. It was so hard to think, sometimes. About times before now. Like all those bloody miserable years just blended into this mush of dread and misery. "I dunno what I wanted," he admitted. "Couldn't... couldn't think that far ahead, could I? I just wanted my mum to be alright. Wanted my dad to think I was worth something. Wanted not to hurt anymore."

He sniffed, and laughed, a watery sort of sound. His arm around Edwin's shoulders squeezed.

"Only thing I ever wanted and got back then was you," he said, flippant, like it didn't really matter. 'Cause it didn't really, did it? Wasn't some big confession or anything. Some deep, dark secret. Edwin knew. They both knew.

But Edwin breathed in sharply, a little ragged round the edges, so maybe he needed reminding now and again. "Charles..."

"Fuck," Charles chuckled, releasing Edwin so he could lean back and rub his eyes — so Edwin wouldn’t have his ear to Charles’ heart when it started beating too fast. "I'm shattered, mate. Dunno what I'm even saying anymore, do I?"

Maybe one of these days, he’d stop being too scared of the fucking size of his own feelings to sit with them a moment.

Maybe they both would.

Edwin sighed, pulling his hand from Charles' waist to pinch at the bridge of his own nose. "I suppose it has gotten rather late." He glanced at the clock, and winced. "Early. You should go and sleep. I'm sure you've had a long day."

Charles hummed, leaving his nice warm spot in Edwin's lap — but his hands didn't leave his shoulders. "C'mon, then," he mumbled, giving them a squeeze. "Bed."

"Better to go without me. I shan't sleep tonight."

"Didn't say anything about sleeping, now, did I?"

Edwin raised his eyebrow.

Charles' brain caught up to his mouth, and he laughed. "Ah — love to, darlin', but. Yeah, seriously, I'm fucking knackered. I meant, like — let's just have a bit of a cuddle, yeah?" He tugged at Edwin's collar where it poked out of his nice green jumper. It was a little crooked — Edwin must've really got into a study groove and unfastened a button or two. Fit as. "I proper fancy a cuddle."

"I'll be restless," said Edwin, all apologetic. "I'll only keep you awake."

Charles hummed, picking up the anthropology textbook and holding it out.

"Keep on reading, then," he said, giving Edwin the big, hopeful eyes he bloody knew he could never say no to. "Just... come read to me instead, yeah?"

Edwin had another dramatic sigh, like it was all such a big ask. He ought to tell that to his fucking smile lines. He took the book — and Charles' hand. "Well. I suppose I can manage that."

Charles didn't know how long Edwin stayed awake, in the end. Could've been hours for all he knew, he'd have had no idea — Charles had been asleep in bloody seconds. Head pillowed on Edwin's shoulder, that gorgeous voice rattling off dry old text blocks and making them sound like spoken-word lullabies... how could he resist?

All he knew was when he woke up, it was eleven in the morning, the sun was slanting through the crooked blinds; and Edwin was snoring softly underneath him. His hair a mess, his textbook open on his chest. His arm a slack, warm weight around Charles' shoulders.

Charles smiled, rubbed his dry eyes — forgot to scrub off his eyeliner before he konked out, again. Classic — and settled back in, nestling safe and sound into the the crook of Edwin's arm. Fuck it. It was Saturday. He'd asked Crystal to pick up his shift today, anyway, so him and Edwin could get a little quality time in.

If all they did with that time was sleep, well. Time well spent, innit? It wasn't like a smoke break from life when he did it with Edwin, anyway.

More like... stepping back to enjoy the view.

Thanks for reading my loves, I hope it soothed the ache somewhat 💛 This has been a strange little one because I've essentially had to take something I very much wrote as a one-shot, and build onto what I established. When I wrote that first one-shot I didn't even have a clear idea in my mind for what Edwin was studying or anything! So things will likely change and grow and develop and who knows where we'll end up, but it's nice to see the lads figuring it out alongside me ^_^ Thanks for reading guys! It's been a bit of a long silence from me since Painland Week ended but I promise I'm working on stuff, including the next chapter of Lonely Bones! Regardless of what has happened to the show or whether it gets picked up or not, my plan is to keep writing and creating for it for as long as it sparks joy to do so - and seeing as I've made some amazing friends in this fandom, I think I'm gonna be here a while! I sure hope you guys are, too 💛 (p.s. if you are over 18, trustworthy with semi-secret identities, and like weird rarepair smut, feel free to DM me for my side Ao3 that I'm sure will be getting some action over the next few months xD)

#dead boy detectives #dbda #payneland #charles rowland #edwin payne #my fanfic #verse: i want something just like this #i have been writing this one in short snatches of downtime so it might not be my most cleanly edited!#i'm sure i will be finding typos for weeks lmao #but it's been such a glum weekend to be a DBDA fan i wanted to stop by and give y'all a little something 💛#love you guys #thanks you so much for all your lovely comments on ao3 #there's so many i still have to get back to!!

57 notes · View notes

serasfanfiction · 6 months ago

Text

"Lucy!"

Lucifer braced himself. Even with the preparation, Beelzebub hit him like a ton of bricks. He wrapped his arms around her neck, his wings coming out as she lifted them both off the ground and spun them around.

"You're here," she exclaimed, squeezing him tight enough that he could feel his ribs protesting. "You have missed so many parties! I thought we'd never see you again."

Lucifer giggled as her fur tickled his neck as she nuzzled his cheek. "Hiya, Bee." He instinctively tried to protect his neck from the cold, wet feeling of her nose as she snuffled his hair. "I, uh, had some things to work through."

Beelzebub bared her teeth, growling low in her chest. "I still can't believe she left! What a bitch!"

Lucifer wilted, Lilith's leaving a raw enough wound that all mentions of it making him want curl up and cry.

His sister paused, gauging his response. She brought them down to the ground, her hold turning into something more gentle. "I'm sorry, Lucy." She gave him a jostle. "You totally deserved better."

Lucifer didn't believe that for a moment, but he didn't want to spoil the mood anymore than he already had. Over his head, his siblings shared a glance. He hated they looked so worried, even as it soothed something along the jagged edges of his self-loathing.

"It's fine." It wasn't, but he was thoroughly subscribing to the delusion that if he said it enough times, it might make it true.

"You can talk to us if you need to." Beelzebub gave him another squeeze, almost as tight as the previous one. "You may be our big brother, but we're still your siblings."

Lucifer blinked, his eyes stinging. He looked up over the mass of her colorful hair to see Asmodeus watching them. It went without saying that the offer was extended from him as well. Lucifer couldn't bring himself to nod. The promise would feel disingenuous, as he was unsure if he was in a place to ever take them up on them offer. Sadness flickered across Asmodeus's face, knowing him too well.

Beelzebub seemed to understand as well. She pulled away, giving his shoulders one last squeeze before she let him go. She turned her sights on the sinner in the room, floating over to get a better view of him. By the time Lucifer was sure he'd blinked away any incriminating evidence of his emotional slip and was certain it was safe to turn around, Beelzebub had already reached her target.

"And who is this cute dear?" It was difficult to determine if she was using the endearment or the animal species name. With her, it could be either. She made a circuit around Alastor, coming up and over his head to hover at eye level with him. "Is this the guy you were talking about?"

Lucifer sputtered, dismayed. "Wait, what?" He spun around on Asmodeus, pointing at him. "When did you even talk about this? I heard that phone call!" It had done right in front of him! How did he miss that?

Fizzarolli held up his phone to show a series of text messages he couldn't read from this distance but could guess at their content. Judging from the smirk on his lover's face, it wasn't hard who had told him to do it.

Traitor! The whole lot of them!

Alastor turned on the charm, although unlike with Asmodeus and Fizz, it appeared to be at least somewhat genuine in this case. "Please, call me Alastor. It's a pleasure to meet you, your highness." If he was irritated with her fluttering around him, he didn't let it show. "From what I've heard, the famous Queen Bee's parties sound like all the rage!"

Beelzebub placed a finger to her chin, squinting her eyes as if racking her brain. "Alastor?" She said the name slowly, considering. She set herself down on the ground, studying him intently. Lucifer noted she had shrunk down in size to match the sinner's height. "The radio host?"

The redhead's demeanor became more amicable, his ego stroked, confirming jovially, "Why yes! It's an honor to hear someone such as yourself has heard of my show." He shot Lucifer a smug look, which in turn earned him a renewed glare.

The Sin of Gluttony waved her fingers at him. "I'm always looking for new music to play during parties." She danced to an imaginary beat, swaying her hips and doing a little twirl. She pointed in his general direction as she spun back around. "You've got good taste in music, if a little out of date."

Alastor wasn't offended by her critique, likely having heard it before. Perhaps emboldened by her positive engagement with him, he offered one of his own, "Perhaps, but music today sounds so..." He paused, searching for the right word. After a moments debate, he settle reluctantly on, "Repetitive."

From out of nowhere, a short clip of music played, emanating from Alastor's direction. The clip was followed by another clip, from a different song, and then a third one. They were all obviously different songs, but they did all sound remarkable the same.

"Wait." Beelzebub's eyes had widened. Alastor paused his flipping through channels on a random song. A male singer with the kind of voice that could make anyone swoon was singing about how he took his whiskey and coffee and how the subject of the song was 'too sweet' for him. She gave Alastor another circle around. "You can generate music yourself?" She clasped her hands together in delight.

The redhead cut off the music, amused by her response. He clarified, "I can act like a radio, my dear. I sadly can't produce music out of nowhere."

Beelzebub threw her older brother a grin over her shoulder. "Lucy, you don't mind if I steal your partner later, do you?"

Lucifer, who had been watching all of this with stiffly crossed arms and an ever darkening glare, scoffed. He just knew this was going to become an issue and already could see the headlines come the next morning. "He's not my anything, Bee. Really."

To Alastor's discernment, Beelzebub sniffed the air far too close to the sinner for her to be doing anything other than catching his scent. Vindictively, Lucifer couldn't help but smirk and think to himself that, yeah, it's not as much fun when someone does it to him, was it? Little taste of his own medicine.

Then she asked, "Then why is his scent all over you?"

Lucifer's hands flew to his hair, belatedly realizing how telling the movement was. He didn't care. What the hell? He'd not only cleaned up last night with magic, he'd even gone for a shower out of the desperate need to swath himself in the comforting smells of his favorite shampoo and body wash. Nothing of Alastor should have remained.

Alastor had that pleased as punch grin on his insufferable, punchable face.

Lucifer hissed like the snake everyone called him, angerly pointing a finger at the asshole. "Take him! I don't want him!"

"Now now, your Majesty, what would Charlie do without her business partner?" Alastor's tone was all sunshine and roses, as if anyone would believe that for an instant.

Behind him, Lucifer heard Fizzarolli whispering to Ozzie, almost (but not quite) too soft him to hear, "Stealing his daughter's business partner? That's ballsy."

Lucifer must have looked one wrong move away from setting the whole building on fire because Beelzebub came floating over to him, saying, "Lucy, why don't we get you that new top?" She placed her hands on his shoulders and directed him out of sight of the main source of all his current woes. "I've always wanted to try some outfits with you!"

"It still needs to be formal," he said, imagining all the outfits she'd worn over the years. They always managed to be both with the times while also being on the cutting edge of what was appropriate.

She pinched his cheek. "Yes, yes, because you're somehow covering up more rather than less." She didn't ask nor did she attempt to find out why. He was ridiculously grateful for it. She produced a slew of garments from her own personal subspace dimension.

Lucifer tried not to sweat over the sheer quantity of them.

Alastor hadn't been wrong when he'd said they had time before the main event, but they didn't have enough for the quantity Beelzebub had brought. Lucifer was able to eliminate roughly half based on the fact they they did fit his aesthetic. His sister didn't look surprised by the choices he outright eliminated, leading him to believe they were there simply because she would have found enjoyment out of seeing him wearing them.

He held up one top from his remaining pile. It was a two-piece top, consisting of a fancy button-up shirt with poofy sleeves and a sleeveless waistcoat that could be laced up at the waist for a more form-fitting look. It wasn't bad, he was so going to steal it for a later day, but there was something... boyish about it. He eyed his sister. "Are you trying to tell me something?" He shook the garment for emphasis.

Beelzebub wasn't even trying to look sheepish. "Only that you'd look adorable in it!"

No one had called him adorable since he'd still had an unbroken halo and a full set of white wings. To his face, anyway. "You do remember I'm not a doll for you to play dress up with, right?"

She picked up a top with a similar vibe to it. "But you're as pretty as one, so how could I resist?"

Alastor looked like he'd swallowed a lemon or one of Asmodeus's more phallic candies. Lucifer filed that thought away for another time.

He sent the top away to his wardrobe in his room at the hotel with a small spark of magic the moment Beelzebub wasn't looking. Listening to the conversations going on around him with only half an ear, he snagged another potential choice, only to toss it aside almost immediately. A knock at the door brought an issue for Asmodeus and Fizzarolli, calling them away with the promise they'd be back shortly.

Beelzebub and Alastor became engaged in a discussion about music, not quite arguing which time period was better. Beelzebub had all of human history to pull from, but it was quickly established she preferred anything someone could dance to.

Alastor had a soft spot for Jazz, as it was the music that followed him throughout his early adult years to the end of his life. He admitted to liking some of the music that evolved from Jazz, such as swing music.

He was down to the final two potential choices - a toss up between a very high neck coat that flared in the sleeves and a more form fitting, corseted, button up tailcoat - when he heard Beelzebub's delighted exclamation of: "You can tune into Earth stations? Have you heard of XM radio?"

The seraphim blinked up at them, as Alastor responded with, "But of course, your highness! Everyone loves a radio station without commercials!"

Lucifer wondered at the full extent of Alastor's reach. Hell was supposed to be cut off from Earth and Heaven, save for specific circumstances. It was one thing to use a crystal or spell to open a portal to Earth. To walk in the dreams of humans as they slept to communicate and influence them. It was another thing entirely to actively reach through that barrier as if it wasn't there to begin with, tuning into any radio station on Earth. Something Alastor could apparently do with ease, as demonstrated by the sound of dance music, something heavily remixed, filling the air.

Beelzebub made a noise that could only be called a squeal, her fingers twitching like she was ready to make off with the sinner the first chance she got.

So distracted by the display, Lucifer didn't immediately notice that one of his hands were empty. Fingers flexing around air, he narrowed his eyes when he found the tailcoat in the grasp of one of Alastor's shadows.

"You were taking so long to choose, your Majesty," Alastor explained innocently. "I thought I might help you choose."

Feeling spiteful, Lucifer snapped the fingers of his free hand, simultaneously sending the coat with the flared sleeves away to his wardrobe while replacing his cashmere roll neck with the tailcoat.

Alastor, the little shit, merely smirked at him. Lucifer didn't like the fact that he couldn't tell if he had done exactly what the sinner had wanted him to do or not.

The doors to the office opened, signaling the return of Asmodeus and Fizzarolli. Both of their shoulders slumped in relief when the door closed firmly behind them.

"Someone blow something up again?" Beelzebub asked, sympathetically.

"I swear, this group can't go one day without blowing something up!" Asmodeus sighed, deep and long suffering. "They didn't even have the excuse of it being a prototype."

Both of his siblings made consoling hums at him. Asmodeus' attention turned to his older brother, a smile breaking out on his face when he saw Lucifer had changed clothes. "Lucy! Marvelous choice!" He paused, tilting his head. "Not really the colors I would expect from you."

That was mostly because Lucifer hadn't had a chance to fiddle with it. He smiled back, waving a hand over the top. The original coat had been forest green, with black buckles, and silver buttons. Forest green bleed out into pure white. The corset center of the coat was now his favored pink, while the buttons and buckles took on a shiny golden hue. He pondered the length of the tail, unsure if he found it too long or not. Deciding to leave it for now, he conjured his hat and cane from his room, topping off his outfit as he placed his crown on his head.

Feeling more himself, despite the change in wardrobe, he grinned. "What do you think?"

Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Fizzarolli all gave approving thumbs up.

Alastor gave him a once over, smirking and unimpressed. "I suppose it's a little better than that ringleader ensemble you're so obsessed with."

Lucifer's eyebrow twitched, stalking over to the sinner. "You're on thin ice, bitch," he said saccharine sweet through gritted teeth.

Alastor watched him approach, his smirk a challenge.

Lucifer met it with one of his own. "Now I think it's your turn for a make over." He gave the sinner a lazy once over, pointedly lingering on the tattered ends of the redhead's coat. "Can't have my date in anything other than the best."

Alastor's expression darkened, almost imperceptivity. "I can't say I know what you mean, your Majesty. I always look my best." This last part was said with the undertone of a warning, not for an agreement, but to back off.

Lucifer considered the response. If anyone could recognize someone's pride having been slighted, it was the Sin of Pride himself. Alastor's pride had been poked at, but the seraphim wasn't immediately certain why. The sinner did indeed dress to impress every day, the haircut and the tattered ends of his coat too out of place not to be anything other than deliberate. So why was he upset?

The answer came from the depths he liked to keep the memories he acquired from reading one of his people's sins: the foundation of Alastor's public persona was one large middle finger to a world that had held him to a higher standard than everyone else around him, and yet, had still found him wanting at the end of the day. It was as much a defense as a way to gain a leg up against the people in power around him.

Lucifer took a step back, lessening the pressure of his approach. He asked, "Do you have anything for a formal occasion?"

A little of the tension left Alastor's stance, now that he didn't feel that he was potentially going to be accosted. "Events in Hell don't usually require a more ...formal dress attire." In other words: sinners dressed however they were going to dress and that was that. One was lucky if they chose to get dressed at all.

Still leaving all the choice in the redhead's court, the blond asked, "Can I make you a tuxedo? If you don't like it, I'll change it back." He paused, before tacking on, "I promise." It wasn't a formal deal, but he tried to keep his promises where he could.

Alastor seemed to be weighing his options, his fingers tapping against the top of his microphone. He could chose to take the offer or he could chose to go as he was, nothing more nothing less. The sinner approached on his own, pacing around his king, his gaze equal parts considering and lost in thought. "Something in my current colors," he finally responded. "If I don't like it, you change it."

Lucifer chose to be pleased that he was being given access to Alastor's person. When the redhead came to a stop in front of him, he raised his hand, keeping it in eye sight the whole time. Alastor picked up on his caution, something fond taking root in his expression. The moment Lucifer's fingers touched the helm of Alastor's sleeve, a golden flame sparked into existence.

Pure creation magic spread like a wave across the red suit, transforming it as it went along. Pin stripes were replaced by red wool of the same color, fine black thread woven into the fabric to cast the illusion that the fabric was darker from some angles. The lapels of the coat were folded back to reveal a completely black interior. A vest and pair of pants of similar design took shape. Underneath the vest, a pure white button up shirt stood out, bright and stark against the otherwise darker colors. The only thing Lucifer hadn't touched was Alastor's black bow tie.

He tiled his head, feeling there was something missing. An idea, born of random inspiration and the desire to uphold his promise to his daughter, took shape in Lucifer's mind. In one hand, a flame of creation magic appeared, raw and undirected. In the other, he formed a flame of pure hellfire. Holding the idea in his mind, he slammed his palms together. The two flames intermingled, eating at each other as they fought to either consume or transform the other. Lucifer bent the two forces to his will, forcing them to come together and take on the shape he desired: something wholly new.

When he opened his hands, sitting on his palms was a gem, one of a kind. As it tilted, the surface reflected back at him like black glass, until it settled to reveal a light within it, gleaming of hellfire. If one were to blow out all of the blue flames that lit the office, the gem would continue to give off a glow of its own. Most importantly, woven into the very fabric of the gem were powerful protection spells, ones that would protect the wearer from someone as strong as the Sins of the Goetia. It might even protect them from an archangel, although not for long.

If Alastor had been wearing this during the previous extermination, it would have likely given Adam a moment's pause. More than enough for the sinner to escape unscathed. Not that Alastor would have run, but still.

The sinner in question eyed the gem as the Devil raised it to his bowtie, securing it in place. Alastor shouldn't have the power necessary to tell what it really was. Some of the Goetia might. Anyone of them that did would know what kind of statement he was making by placing it there. It was a more physical reminder that this sinner was under his protection and he wouldn't take kindly to anyone trying to kill him.

Asmodeus and Beelzebub could tell what it was. The former was silently laughing at him, while the latter covered her mouth to hide her grin, for all the good it did.

Lucifer ignored them. He was merely keeping his promise, nothing more.

Alastor tapped the gem, the chime unlike anything he'd ever heard before. His hand traveled down his sleeve. "Wool?" There was a slight crease to his brows, unsure with the assessment.

Lucifer didn't have the slightest clue how he could tell, since the redhead was still wearing his gloves. Was Alastor pressing the cloth into his arms and could tell that way? The blonde took a step back, nodding. "Yes, vicuña wool, to be exact."

The sinner went still, his ears ramrod straight. "Vicuña wool?" His eyes were boring right into Lucifer's, something heavy in his gaze.

The blond found it difficult to tell if the reaction was a good one or a bad one. He'd chosen it because humans seemed to place great value on the wool for it's rareness and the quality of the fabric it produced. Once only for kings, only the wealthy could afford more than one garment. He largely only knew this because Asmodeus was a fan of the fabric and had raved about it on the odd occasion.

Lucifer waggled his eyebrows. "I said I'd dress you in the best, did I not?" He still felt there was something missing, not from Alastor's outfit this time, but his own. Hand aglow with his magic, he met the redhead's gaze and held it as he ran his hand down the center of the tailcoat, transforming the pink section into red.

The same red as Alastor's favored suit and current tuxedo.

The sinner huffed, the brewing conflict passing for something more possessive. He raised a hand, a single claw tapping the fabric that hid the mark he'd left. "Isn't matching color schemes as much a statement as this would have been?" His expression stated he thought Lucifer was a ridiculous creature, but he was bemused regardless.

Lucifer caught his wrist, holding on long enough to pull it away. "Didn't agree to be your property," he repeated, teeth bared in light warning.

Alastor wasn't affected, as always.

They were both startled by the loud clapping of someone's hands. All heads turned to Beelzebub, who was grinning brightly at them all. "Alright! Fashion crisis averted!" She slung her arm around her older brother's shoulders in a hug, squeezing tightly before releasing him just as quickly. "I will see all of you at the party! Got to get ready myself and then pick up the boyfriend and girlfriend!!"

She portalled out of the room before anyone could get any remark out. Lucifer mouthed 'boyfriend and girlfriend,' bewildered as to when that had happened.

Fizzarolli blinked after her. "Do you think she's going to bring anything fun with her?"

Asmodeus gave him a very light push, little more than a nudge. "Fizzy! We do not want everyone to get black out drunk in the first hour!"

The imp gave his partner a deadpan look. "Just because they can't hold their liquor doesn't mean the rest of us have to suffer."

Asmodeus chuckled as he made his way over to Alastor and Lucifer. "Lucy, brother, would you make a portal to our home?" He pulled out his cellphone. "By the time the limo arrives, we should be ready."

Fizzarolli snorted. "Speak for yourself." He dramatically pressed a hand to his forehead, demonstrating his flexibility as he swooned backwards over his partner's shoulder. "Some of us have to put a little effort into it to be this beautiful."

"Aw, Fizzy, baby, you look amazing no matter what you wear." Asmodeus followed this statement up by running a finger along the underside of the imp's chin, causing Fizzarolli to giggle.

Being the sin of Pride, Lucifer could sense the dual war in his little brother's chosen partner. Fizzarolli did indeed have his pride, he couldn't be a performer of his caliber without it. He knew his talent and his worth, but underneath it lay a wound so deep it threatened to overwhelm all of it. Asmodeus' words were an ongoing healing balm, like cool, clean water over a burn.

It was... sweet.

Lucifer swallowed the envy he felt watching them, missing the warmth that came from a loving relationship. Love looked good on Asmodeus and Fizzarolli was certainly flourishing from it as well.

He opened the portal, tempted to make a comment about them just using his own limo. It was practically Charlie's at this point for all that he ever used it. When one could just teleport or portal or simply fly to their destination, why wait to drive there? The suggestion died in his throat as Asmodeus passed him, pushing him along with them. The weight of his hand was heavy, as if he could keep his older brother there with him just by holding on to him.

Lucifer supposed he could stick around a little longer and ride with them. Leave the public guessing when he was going to pop up and from where.

He glanced over his shoulder to make certain Alastor was still with them. The sinner was stepping through the portal, taking in the new room they had travelled to. There wasn't anywhere truly 'safe' to jump to unannounced, if Asmodeus was at home, but he usually kept high traffic, potentially public areas clean of anything suggestible if he was going to work. Lucifer chose the kitchen because it was as safe as anywhere else, and he and Alastor would be able to get any snacks or drinks for themselves while they waited.

Not that Alastor was likely to have much of an appetite after his indulgence the day before.

It pleased Lucifer on a petty, vindictive level to see the taller figure in this particular setting. Everything was set up to be a comfortable height for someone as tall as Asmodeus. The counter tops likely were too tall for Fizzarolli to see over, if he never took advantage of his stretchy limbs to add on some height. Alastor's head and shoulders might clear the countertops, but there was no way he was reaching any of the top shelves without going full eldritch demon or without the assistance of his shadows.

What did the foot the redhead have on him matter when they were all lacking in height in this setting?

Lucifer closed the portal behind the sinner. Asmodeus and Fizzarolli wandered off deeper into the dwelling with the former telling them to "Make yourselves at home!" as they went off, likely to their bedroom. The king listened to their voices for as long as he could, keeping a watchful eye out as Alastor explored the new space.

He smirked upon seeing the exact moment the sinner realized the tips of his ears weren't on level with the bottom of the cabinets, the sinner lazily blinking at them like he found their placement ridiculous. He might have asked if Alastor needed any assistance, if not for the fact that even he could tell that would be walking right into a short joke. Instead, he simply conjured a pair of glasses as he settled in at the table taking up the center of the kitchen. "Care for anything to drink while we wait?" He filled his own with juice, waving the second empty one in invitation.

Alastor peered over at him from where he had moved on to inspecting a potted floral arrangement made up of one Lust Ring's indigenous flora, a plant with blue leaves tipped with purple. His eyes tracked the movement of the glass. "Wouldn't cake be more beneficial in this instance, sire?" His grin extended from ear to ear, teeth alight from within. "Wouldn't want to get any shorter, now would we?"

The reference almost went over his head. Of course he'd somehow find a way to throw in a short joke. Lucifer leaned an elbow on the table, crossing his legs. "Please, I'm hardly the white rabbit." He placed the glass on table. Alastor could take it or leave it. "And you're certainly no Alice."

Alastor abandoned the plant in favor of stalking over to Lucifer and the table. He tapped the lip of the glass, and then abandoned as just as uninteresting as the plant. The floor to ceiling window on the other side of the kitchen, however, seemed to catch his interest. "No," he agreed. Moving as if entranced, he made his way over to it. "I've always thought the Cheshire Cat suited be better."

He was certainly as annoying one, anyway.

Lucifer could only guess how different the blues and pinks of the Lust Ring must look after nearly a hundred years of the constant red of the Pride Ring. The radio host, in his own shades of red and black, stood out like a sore thumb, almost like a reminder of which of the rings he belonged to. His ears were completely forward, intent on catching the soft patter of the rain against the glass.

"Would his Majesty be willing to answer a little question?" Alastor met his gaze through his reflection against the glass.

Lucifer swirled his juice. His first impulse was to put stipulations on the exchange. Milking information out of the sinner usually cost something, why shouldn't getting information from the Devil cost the same? But Lucifer didn't have the energy to stoop to the sinner's level at the moment, so he decided to go with generous. "Depends on the question."

To a point.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't for Alastor to ask, "Does it always rain in the Lust Ring?"

"Yes?" Lucifer was more than a little baffled over why such a thing might interest Alastor, until he remembered that the only rain in the Pride Ring was acid rain. It tainted the water until the only safe sources were those kept safe from any access to the open sky. Anyone unlucky enough to be out in it would likely receive some nasty burns. "Oh, it's not acid rain. Only the Pride Ring has acid rain." The Greed Ring was certainly working it's way towards it, though.

Black tipped, red ears twisted 90 degrees around, Alastor being more focused on the little king than the rain. "And what makes the Pride Ring so special?"

The blonde gave a low grumble of disapproval. "Seems like you have more than one question."

Alastor pointed the head of his staff out into the room, circling it around to showcase it's emptiness. "Would you prefer I poke around your little brother's kitchen to pass the time?" His tone suggested he would absolutely make sure to mess with something, just to be a nuisance.

Lucifer had half a mind to let him do it, just to see what would happen if he did. He sighed, put upon by choices that had led him to babysitting a sinner in his little brother's home. "Hell didn't look much like anything when we got here." He put his drink down, loosing all interest in it. "It wasn't originally meant to be our prison. It was just convenient to throw us into it."

It had been decided from the moment Eve had bitten into the apple that anyone who allowed themselves to be consumed by the Root of All Evil's influences would be tossed down to join her in her prison. Foreseeing it would get bad, God had decided that Lucifer's punishment was to be trapped with the worst of the worst, forced to watch all the ways his decision had gone terribly wrong.

"When my siblings and I recovered, we joined our powers together to create the other rings." He nodded to the window, more a nod to the Rings as a whole than just Lust in general. "Lilith and I stayed in Pride. She wanted to be with her people." He paused. Amended, albeit grudgingly, "Our people. My siblings each headed south and claimed a ring for themselves."

He was a bit fuzzy on the early details following their arrival in Hell. Lucifer had been terribly injured in the fight leading up to their imprisonment, and then further injured protecting Lilith from the Fall. His siblings, each dealing with their own injuries, hadn't been able to lend a helping hand. The moment Lucifer had been recovered enough to help with making their new home more comfortable, he'd proceeded to push too hard, too fast, creating the Seven Rings all at once rather than one at a time. They had tried to warn him to take it easy, to slow down, but he had been desperate to do something right by his family. Even with the added help of his siblings' power, he'd gone down hard.

By the time he regained consciousness, the first sinners had already begun to arrive and his siblings had already moved into their respective rings. Everything had been decided with very little impute from him. Considering how exhausted he'd been, both physically and emotionally, it had been easier to go with the flow. He hadn't cared either way, to be brutally honest about it.

Alastor looked like he could tell there was more to that story, but let it go. "And the Hellborn?"

Lucifer shrugged. "They were already here when we got here." Belphegor had speculated that the Hellborn were Roo's response to humanity, but she hadn't been able to prove it. As time passed, the natural flora and fauna of Hell had evolved and expanded exponentially with the introduction of different environments, until there were multiple different species of both. Earth evolved slowly over time, but Hell evolved in leaps and bounds. "We did start getting different types over time, though."

"And human's being delegated to the Pride Ring?" There was something about the tone that suggested that this had been the question Alastor had been working up to all along.

The blonde pushed back from the table, rising to his feet. He came over to stand behind his date for the night, just to the side enough to see out the window. "An agreement between Lilith and my siblings." He tapped the apple end of his cane against his chin. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Mostly to keep down the fighting between the Hellborn and the sinners. Humans were innovative creatures and putting the worse of the worse in one place together was always going to be a recipe for disaster. The Hellborn hadn't stood a chance. Now the sinners fought primarily with themselves, while the Hellborn lived lives as varied as humans did on Earth.

Alastor fell silent. For a while, they simply stood listening to the rain, lost in their own thoughts. Lucifer thought he might be content to mull over the new information he had received, when he broke the silence to ask, "The acid rain?"

"A present from Heaven." From behind them, Asmodeus answered before his brother could, his voice an unhappy rumble. Alastor turned to face the sin, while Lucifer left his back to his little brother. Asmodeus approached, setting his hand on Lucifer's shoulder. His hand was large enough it encompassed the blonde's shoulder and the upper part of his back. "Michael thought Lucy's kingdom was looking too nice."

"A nice way of saying Michael was still angry at me." Lucifer internally grimaced at the memory of his twin's face, distorted in anger, at the way Lilith was thriving. That Lucifer wasn't doing anything to curb it. As if he ever would. "He thought making Hell more difficult to survive would curb everyone's spirits." He snorted. "Jokes on him, because they only infected the Pride Ring and humanity is... stubborn."

It was an admirable quality, even if it often got them into trouble. It was something Lucifer could relate to.

Lucifer shook off the thoughts before they dragged him down into too much of a melancholic mood. He already had to deal with the public and it wouldn't do if he couldn't even last more than an hour with them. He stepped away, turning as he did so that he could get a look at his brother. Asmodeus had changed into a suit similar to his usual one. The colors were more vibrant and he had added a business coat over it.

Fizzarolli, notably, wasn't on his shoulder.

Noticing where Lucifer was looking, Asmodeus laughed. "Fizzy needs a little more time." He began to usher his older brother towards the door, Alastor following of his own violation least the sin decide to get the idea of getting handsy with him. "It's his first time out in public since giving Mammon the literal finger and he wants to put on his best." As they neared the main entrance to Asmodeus' home, the sin called out towards the bedroom, "Fizzy Frog! Babe! You picked out your outfit a week ago!"

From the bedroom came the shout of, "But Ozzie! It needs to be perfect!" Fizzarolli appeared a moment later. The imp was wearing a white laced jester styled outfit, fitted with a laced up bodice that was black on one side and red on the other. His hat matched his bodice, with the colors switched, while being white underneath. Similarly, the hearts adorning his shoulders and forehead alternated the red and black pattern. "I need to look badass."

Asmodeus could move fast for someone his height, when he wanted to. He cleared the room in nearly two strides, picking his partner up. "Fizz, you look amazing. No one is going to say other wise."

Fizzarolli didn't appear completely convinced. "I just don't want anyone to talk shit about you if I don't."

He received a pat to the nose with a single finger and a no nonsense tone from Asmodeus, "The only person you need to impress at this event is yourself." The blue and pink sin hugged him close. "No one else's opinions matter."

Fizzarolli took a deep breathe, his anxiety visibly calming. "You're right!" He grinned, his whole expression lighting up. "And if they don't like me, who cares? Because I don't need them!"

Asmodeus beamed at him. "Exactly!" He made his way over, ready to shuffle everyone out the door. "Now where is that limo?"

Right on cue, a horn blasted outside.

Lucifer allowed himself to be shuffled outside, casting a glance at Alastor as the human-turned-demon got his first feel of normal rain since he'd died. The sinner held out a hand, cupped it to catch the water. Nostalgia softened the sharp edges of his smile into a more real one. Lucifer turned away when Alastor stepped out fully, tilting his head back to enjoy the feel of the rain on his face.

Lucifer refused to admit that Alastor was actually kind of handsome, when he was being honest with himself and the world.

The ride through Lust and then up to Pride was filled with small talk and blessedly uneventful. Lucifer, Asmodeus, and Fizzarolli had all been through the various ways to travel the Rings, so they were more interested in their conversation than the sights. Having never left the Pride Ring before, Alastor was more absorbed with the sights than their attempts to include him. He gave off the distinct impression that even if the sights hadn't been more interesting, he likely wouldn't have engaged with them anyway.

Lucifer could feel the uptick in his nerves as they entered the Pride Ring and the closer they got to Stolas' manor. The crowd of people outside, wanting to catch any glimpse of Hell's royals were lined up a mile away, all climbing over each other on the slimmest chance they would catch a glimpse of someone. The paparazzi had managed to secure the area closest to the drop off point, ensuring they would get the first photographs of the arriving guests.

A weight settled on the nap of his neck, the prick of one of Alastor's claws just above his high collar stealing Lucifer's attention before he could begin to spiral and reminding him that he wasn't alone. The mix of gratefulness and frustration was a heady feeling in his gut, even as he leaned subtly back into that hand.

The wait until it was their turn to disembark was both far too short and far too long. A portion of the crowd was especially intent on following Asmodeus' limo, the reason made all too easy to sus out.

Lucifer squinted at the signs, pointing at a particularly graphic one. "Are those... fans?"

Fizzarolli was a equal mix of put upon and repulsed. "Yeah, Mammon isn't very big on keeping boundaries between his cash cows and the... fans."

Visible through the crowd, the same fan - fanatic, rather - proceeded to do something extremely lude and inappropriate with what appeared to be a doll version of the jester.

Heaven was very dull and boring, Lucifer would never tell anyone otherwise, but he sure did miss it at times like this.

tbc

Part 16

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #hazbin hotel #i am so sorry for how long it took to get this out #this chapter is the first time a chapter has gotten so large #i had to cut it in two #not sure if the HB cast is in character #but i've been enjoying working with them #stolas and some of the other cast will appear in the next chapter!#the next chapter is already written out #and should be out sometime during the weekend!#the pic is by me as a thank you to all the lovely readers #who have left me a like and a comment #you keep me going #thank you all so much!

41 notes · View notes