Chapter Text
For the past twenty minutes, Lucifer has been sat in his car watching the clock tick closer and closer to eight. At seven forty-nine, he silences and pockets his phone.
Well, this is it.
With a deep breath, he shakes off his nerves and steps out of his car into the muggy night air. He’d managed to find a spot at the end of a bustling street that he’s never been to, lined with noisy lounges and clubs and teeming with people—many of whom are dressed up and some of whom are dressed way, way down. It’s hard not to feel a little out of his depth already, but he holds his head high as he merges with the crowd, keeping an eye out for the bar where his date will be meeting him.
His blind date.
Lucifer can hardly believe he’d allowed his daughter to set him up with one of her friends. Nobody should have to play matchmaker for their washed-up dad. But Charlie had promised him that the guy didn’t expect anything serious, didn’t even expect sex; that this was more of a kick in the pants to get him socializing again, after spending nearly a decade feeling sorry for himself.
And, she’s right! If he can go on one date, he can go on another. Make friends. Get out of the house more often. He can do this.
Realizing he’d been spacing out, Lucifer pauses under a streetlamp to take in his surroundings. The crowd seems to be thinning a bit this far down the road, and he doesn’t see anyplace that matches Charlie’s description of ‘a hole in the wall down Pride Street’, supposedly a favorite haunt of his date-to-be. He idly wonders how, and when, the street got its name; there are a good few pride flags of all colors plastered on the windows, and hanging from flagpoles.
He keeps walking, and the street turns quieter, the loud pop music of the other establishments far behind him. With less noise and traffic, Lucifer can faintly hear a jazzy, yet gentle and inviting tune float by from somewhere just ahead.
Stopping beside an old, brick wall covered in ivy and flowering bougainvillea, he peeks through the wrought iron gate into a little courtyard festooned in string lights and ferns. The plaque on the stucco exterior of the building within simply reads ‘Mimzy’s’.
Well, this is a ‘hole in the wall’-looking sort of place if Lucifer had ever seen one. Too bad he’d parked almost three blocks away.
The gate squeaks open and latches heavily behind him as he makes his way in, bypassing a few couples seated outside and peeking in through the propped-open door.
This place looks to be much more his speed.
It’s also downright romantic. The music that had lured him in is being played by a live band off to the far side of the softly-lit room; a simple arrangement of piano, bass and drums. Upon each little table sits both a small oil lamp and a bud vase holding a single, immaculately white magnolia blossom.
The hanging pots and shelves of plants mirroring the foliage outside draw Lucifer’s eyes upward to the sloping ceiling and low, exposed rafters. The dark wood of each old beam is absolutely covered in carvings and scribbles of the names and initials of patrons past and present. Just how long has this place been here?
Speaking of patrons…
His attention turns to the people around him, most of whom appear to be in pairs. It’s not terribly crowded, and the cozy atmosphere and acoustics of the large room do a good job of keeping the sound of conversation at a low background hum. Stepping further in, Lucifer peers around an ornate folding room divider to check for any sign of his date.
All Charlie had really said was that the guy was ‘tall’, ‘pretty’, and that ‘he’d know him when he saw him’. Sure, sweetie. He’d promised to do his best and text her if he had trouble, and only then would she send him a picture and the number of who he was looking for.
Fortunately (he hopes), he won’t need the help.
Because there, tucked away at a little table in the corner is a man that most definitely matches the description, sat all alone in one of two sumptuous leather armchairs.
Golly, Lucifer hopes this is a case of ‘knowing him when he sees him’.
He shuffles closer, slowly enough to take in the man’s striking appearance before making himself known. Tall and lean, broad-shouldered and devastatingly gorgeous.
Oh yeah, he could work with this.
He stops just beside his table, and Lucifer finds himself lost for words. The warm, flickering light of the lamp catches on the man’s gold, wire-framed glasses as he slowly pulls his gaze up from whatever he’s reading on his phone. They stare at each other for a brief moment while Lucifer’s brain catches up.
“Hi!” Lucifer’s voice cracks just a bit. He clears his throat and tries again. “Um, hi. Are you—I’m your date? I think? Sorry if I kept you waiting, had a little trouble finding the place.”
At first, the man is silent as his piercing, grey-green eyes go wide with surprise before he breaks into the biggest, most dazzling smile Lucifer has ever seen.
“Lucky me,” the man purrs, his gaze flickering across Lucifer’s face like he’s fascinated. “It’s no trouble; I’m sure you’re worth the wait.”
Oh, there’s trouble, all right, and Lucifer is in it. Charlie hadn’t mentioned that her friend would be so charming.
“Oh, ha! I hope so,” Lucifer laughs awkwardly, sinking into the low chair opposite him. The table hits the center of his chest, and he tucks a leg underneath himself to sit higher. “You’re really good. I mean, you look good. You look nice.”
God.
“Why, thank you,” the man laughs, brushing a hand through thick, loose curls that transition to a close-shaved fade. The light brown skin of his bared forearms is littered with small, silvery scars that Lucifer knows better than to comment on. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I just can’t seem to recall your name.”
“You mean, it’s not just me? Phew!” Lucifer rubs the back of his neck, entirely too used to forgetting little details that he should remember. “Guess some of Char’s friends would probably just know of me as ‘Charlie’s Dad’, huh? It’s Lucifer. And, you?”
“‘Lucifer’! Of course. Perfect for someone so devilishly handsome,” the man’s eyes travel down to Lucifer’s collarbone, and his smile sharpens. “Why, you almost look good enough to eat.”
Damn, okay. Flirt alert. Lucifer’s cheeks flush softly as he tries to think of how to respond to the compliment without sounding stupid. Luckily, he’s saved by the other’s introduction prodding at his memory.
“My name is Alastor; it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“That’s it, knew it started with an ‘A’!” Lucifer snaps his fingers and smiles, leaning forward.
Alastor looks pleased. He leans back in his chair and looks around the space as if he’s seeing it for the first time as well.
“You said you almost couldn’t find this old dive?” he asks.
“Hey, this place is swanky, especially compared to some of the venues I played when we first moved down here,” Lucifer idly plucks the magnolia from its little vase, sniffing lightly at its surprisingly fresh fragrance. “But yeah, I started further up the street, with all those clubs? There was no way. Too loud and crowded.”
“Ah yes, I’ve had the misfortune of playing the wallflower over there a time or two,” Alastor says wryly, eyes flitting to the side like he’s recalling some particularly irritating memory.
“Really?” Lucifer says, looking him up and down. “I dunno; I think you’d stand out just about anywhere.”
Because not only is the guy gorgeous, but gosh, he’s a snappy dresser, too. The buttoned-up collar of his wine-red dress shirt has a delicate-looking linked, golden pin, each side of which looks like…branches? Antlers?
Alastor chuckles quietly as Lucifer openly ogles him, hiding his smile behind his glass as he drains it.
“Oh, right! Drinks,” Lucifer sits up. “This is a...yep. Can I get you another? Something different?”
“You may,” Alastor pushes his empty glass towards him with his fingertips. “The bartender knows my order.”
Lucifer nods and makes his way over to the well-stocked bar, leaning against it as the unhurried and exceptionally surly-looking bartender ambles over to him.
“How’s it going?” Lucifer greets him, jumping straight into his order. “Can I get another one of these? For the guy over there? And, do you do appletinis?”
The man raises an eyebrow at him, throwing a towel over his shoulder and grabbing a nearly-empty bottle of rye whiskey. Covering the label is a strip of tape with Alastor’s name written on it.
“Nope,” he grumbles. “You trying to chat him up, or something?”
“Heh, met him here for a date, actually,” Lucifer shrugs, and orders himself an old-fashioned instead (with a cherry, please). “He’s a regular here, huh? Already paid for?”
“Him? On a date?” the bartender snorts as he lazily goes about preparing their drinks. “Nah, old friend of his owns the place, and he drinks for free more’n half the time, the bastard.”
Obviously, Alastor has some kind of reputation here. Who is he?
“Wow. Uh, I’ll cover for him this time,” Lucifer swipes his card, and looks over at Alastor, who gives him a kind of silly, dainty little wave. Has he been watching him this whole time?
“Well, here you go,” the bartender mutters, sliding his order across the polished bartop. “Good luck, I guess.”
“Thanks?” Lucifer raises an eyebrow and makes his way back to their table, a little puzzled. Maybe the guy isn’t a fan of Alastor’s?
Weird.
Alastor seems to perk up as he approaches, and he reaches out to accept his drink rather than let Lucifer set it down.
“Thank you, darling,” he smiles, purposefully brushing his fingers against Lucifer’s. His hands are so big.
“No problem,” Lucifer answers a little hoarsely.
Alastor has his long legs stretched out under the little table, crossed at the ankles in front of Lucifer’s chair. He makes no effort to move, and Lucifer feels a little awkward as they’re forced to brush against each other in order for him to sit down.
“So!” Alastor begins, sipping his whiskey before setting it aside. “What has Charlie told you about me?”
“Honestly? Not much,” Lucifer shakes his head. “She was hellbent on giving me an authentic blind date experience. Probably thought I’d chicken out.”
He wouldn’t want to admit to being intimidated, but if Charlie had shown him a picture of this classy guy beforehand? Yeah, he definitely would have spiraled a bit into self-doubt.
“She did say you were a couple years older than her,” Lucifer continues. “That’d make you, what? Twenty-four or something?”
“Or something,” Alastor gives him a cheeky grin.
“Ok, we don’t need to get into the age difference thing,” Lucifer chuckles awkwardly. “How ‘bout...um, what is it you do?”
“What I do?” Alastor squints and tilts his head with that same smile, like he’d never heard such a question. Lucifer can’t be sure if he’s teasing him or not.
He subconsciously begins bouncing his knee as he clarifies the question anyway.
“I mean—you, uh, still in school? Or do you work? Both?” Lucifer asks, taking a deep swig of his drink.
Alastor’s foot slides firmly into Lucifer’s heel, interrupting the nervous motion and forcing his leg to straighten. He’s a little startled by it, but the other man simply sits up higher in his seat, and moves his legs out of Lucifer’s personal space under the table.
“Well now, that’s a boring question!” Alastor waves his hand as if physically dismissing it. “The answer might not tell you anything about me as a person. Perhaps I’m just a lowly intern. Maybe I’m a retail manager? An underpaid busboy?”
Lucifer listens to him rattle off the possibilities and just blinks at him for a moment before Alastor continues, his voiced lowered and slightly throaty in a way that reminds Lucifer of a crackling radio.
“Conversely, it might tell you too much—I could be some sort of vigilante!” He leans over the small tabletop, his face barely more than a foot away from Lucifer’s. “Though, that’s more of a hobby, isn’t it?”
Lucifer laughs incredulously. What a roundabout way of telling him to mind his own business. He supposes it really doesn’t matter, in the end. Not everyone can have a job that they’re happy to talk about off the clock, and he would know.
“Well, everybody needs one,” he jokes.
“On that note; you mentioned that you play? Is that for business or pleasure?” Alastor asks. He rests his chin in his hand in a way that could indicate boredom, but he looks perfectly attentive as he waits for Lucifer to answer.
‘On that note’—did he just make a music pun?
“Bit of both,” Lucifer says. “Or, it used to be.”
He ends up rambling for a little while, about how he would play gigs and fill in at spots around town when he and Charlie first moved in five years ago. Unfortunately, it was untenable, the hours and pay too varied to be a good fit with his better-paying ‘day job’. Between the divorce over seven years ago and helping Charlie through college now, he’s been pretty strapped. And to top it off, the other tenants in his run-down apartment building didn’t have much appreciation for the fiddle, and especially not for the accordion. It’s been ages since he played.
Once he realizes he might possibly have been oversharing, Lucifer interrupts himself.
“You did not ask about all of that, whoops!” he smiles and bites his lip, fiddling with the cherry stem from his drink.
“No, I didn’t,” Alastor says. “But you answered one question, and then some! To think, we could have met upon the same stage years ago.”
Lucifer is surprised to learn that Alastor did his share of moonlighting at a few venues in the past. Now, he only plays here at Mimzy’s when the act needs a pianist, or when he specifically asks for a spot. When Alastor wonders aloud about the possibility of them ever performing here together in the future, Lucifer’s heart gives a little flutter. Not only might he get to play again, it also sounds like Alastor is already thinking about ever seeing him beyond this one night.
Eventually, there’s a comfortable lull in their conversation as they sip their drinks, and then there’s the very odd sense of awareness that Lucifer is really here, making a connection with someone else and shaking off the dust that had settled during his stint of self-imposed isolation.
“Glad I came out here tonight,” he murmurs. “Glad I met you.”
If Alastor thinks he sounds overly sappy for a guy he met barely an hour ago, they can blame it on the alcohol. The other man doesn’t say anything; just smiles, but looks at Lucifer like he’s trying to piece together some kind of puzzle.
Lucifer is about to suggest another round before he hears scattered clapping and a whistle from over in the corner as the percussionist leads the band into an uptempo swing tune, and Alastor’s eyes light up. He quickly knocks back the dregs of his drink, and stands before Lucifer with his hand held out.
“Dance with me?”
As far as Lucifer can recall, the only dancing he’s done in the last several years has been to show tunes with Charlie in the privacy of his own home. He hopes Alastor is the kind of guy to appreciate enthusiasm if he turns out to have two left feet. His eyes water at the hearty gulp from his own glass, and he accepts Alastor’s hand, letting himself be pulled from his seat.
There’s a pleasant tingle through Lucifer’s body at the touch; not quite like arousal, but it’s a warm and cheering sensation that he’s keen to get more of.
Hand-in-hand, Alastor hurries Lucifer to the dance floor and immediately pulls him close. Just eye-level with Alastor’s chest, he really has to crane his neck to look up at him like this. He won’t mind so much if he develops a crick in it later. Alastor winks at him, and Lucifer laughs as he’s spun out and pulled right back in again. He does his best to match Alastor’s fast-paced improvised dancing, but there’s no complaint from either of them at the amount of guidance Lucifer relies on.
There’s a stumble here and there, but Alastor doesn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, he seems perfectly happy for any excuse to use his strength to pull Lucifer up, pick him up. Lucifer can only imagine how red his face must be as Alastor effortlessly leads him into an exhilarating sidecar lift that very nearly has him wrapping his legs around the man’s trim waist.
Maybe he’s tipsy, maybe it’s adrenaline, but it isn’t too much longer before Lucifer is ready to challenge Alastor’s lead. He feels a little smug at the look of surprise on Alastor’s face as he pushes and pulls the man into a spin toward himself and guides him into a dip—one that lasts just a bit too long, a bit too low.
Lucifer’s only warning is a flash of mischief in Alastor’s eyes; with little chance of righting themselves gracefully, the man gives up, and Lucifer’s upper body strength is no match for the dead weight that Alastor pulls them down with. They collapse in a heap on the dance floor, and Alastor’s loud, slightly scratchy laughter is both endearing and infectious.
Lucifer’s own snorting just makes them laugh harder as he shoves against Alastor’s chest and stands up, offering his hand and pulling him to his feet when he takes it.
They’ve only just made it off to the side and out of the way when a nearby voice catches their attention.
“Alastor, ya big lug!” A full-figured woman even shorter than Lucifer makes her way over to them, swaying her hips and daintily fixing her hair.
“Who is this dreamy fella, you holdin’ out on me?” she asks in a joking tone, elbowing Alastor in his side.
“Meet Lucifer; he’s my date for tonight!” Alastor moves in and rests his elbow atop Lucifer’s head, almost like he’s staking a claim. “Lucifer, this lovely creature is my dear old pal Mimzy, the proprietor of this establishment.”
Lucifer ducks out from under Alastor’s arm, shooting him a smirk.
“Good to meet you, Mimzy,” he says, stepping back to lightly brush at Alastor’s shirt where he’d landed on the floor. “Real nice place you’ve got, love the ambiance.”
For a moment, the woman just looks back and forth between the two of them, her eyes strangely fixed on the way Lucifer is touching Alastor. He wonders briefly if there’s a jealousy issue here, or if he’s said something wrong, and backs up to pat any dust from his own clothes instead.
“Oh. My. Stars.” Mimzy gasps, holding her pretty, round face in her hands. “This is—he’s—lovely to meetcha, Lucifer, and thank you, sug! A girl tries her best!” She takes his hand in both of hers and gives it a vigorous shake, bouncing on her heels. “Al, you have got to show him to Rosie, she will just die!”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Alastor laughs.
“Oh! Oh! Make sure she shows him the Emporium!” Mimzy flaps her hands in excitement before leaning in to address Lucifer directly. “Alastor gets most of his duds there, real fancypants stuff. Hey Al, where ya goin’ in those rags—church? Hah!”
She swats the back of her hand hard across Alastor’s midsection, and it must really pack a wallop from the way his smile threatens to turn into a slight grimace.
“Thank you, Mimzy,” Alastor says, gently stopping her from repeatedly smacking him. “We won’t keep you; I know how you love to work the room on weekends.”
Mimzy pulls Alastor into a bone-crushing hug, and Lucifer chuckles at his visible discomfort. The man gives him a sideways glance, extricates himself from Mimzy’s clutches and aims her at him. Oh boy.
“Luciferrr! You treat him right; I wanna see you back here, ok?” She’s a hugger, all right, and just about lifts Lucifer off his feet with the strength of it. “Have fun, y’all! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, ya hear!?”
Mimzy spins on her heel a little too fast, and flawlessly turns the misstep into a dance number as she works her way into the small crowd.
“In that case, the world is our oyster!” Alastor beams down at him,
“She’s a real hoot, huh?” Lucifer returns his smile. “Was...was she high?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he replies flippantly. “Say, would you like to get out of here? Mimzy has the right idea—if she tells Rosie about you, and I never took you to meet her, I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”
Between that, Mimzy’s enthusiasm and the bartender’s surprise, Lucifer has to wonder about the situation. It doesn’t seem likely that Alastor is in the same boat as him—borderline reclusive, depressed, and lonely. Maybe he’s on the rebound, after ending a long relationship? How much heartbreak could a twenty-four-or-something-year-old have?
“Is it really that big a deal? That you’re on a date?” Lucifer asks.
“So it would seem. I’m generally not interested, so it tends to cause a stir when I am,” Alastor says. “It’s amusing, the way they get so worked up on my behalf.”
His mind snags on the ‘not interested’. In the same way Lucifer hasn’t been, too morose and jaded to bother? Or is he just plain not one for romance, or sex? In that case, Lucifer has to wonder why Alastor agreed to meet him. Change of pace, maybe? A favor to Charlie? He hopes not, but at least whatever interest Alastor has now seems genuine.
“You’ve got some supportive buds, huh?” Lucifer’s smile drops a little too quickly, and he heaves a sigh, rolling his shoulders. “Charlie’s pretty much all I’ve got these days; she was over the moon that I let her set me up. Been ages since I had it in me to care enough to get out and try at all.”
“Now, now,” Alastor actually pats him on the head. “Chin up! I’m dangerously close to finding you a little pathetic, with talk like that.”
The insult might have amplified the self-doubt that Lucifer could feel creeping in, if it didn’t shock him from how unexpected it was.
“You want me to turn this date around, asshole? I’ll do it.” Lucifer glares up at Alastor, his attitude towards him slightly soured.
It may be a little early to resort to name-calling, but it’s like water off a duck’s back, for all that it seems to affect Alastor. Maybe he hears it a lot.
“Don’t be silly,” Alastor waves his hand with a flick of his wrist. “There’s just no need for that negativity. You made it out here, didn’t you? And it’s not just myself you’re meeting tonight. If there’s nowhere to go but up, I’d say you’re doing swell!”
Alastor the Optimist.
All right, it does help Lucifer feel a little better, having things put into perspective like that. It hadn’t been a personal dig at him—just Alastor’s weird way of telling him not to get himself down.
“Thanks,” Lucifer says softly. “Sorry, you’re right—letting you get a peek at how pathetic I am is like, third date stuff.”
“Good man!” Alastor claps him on the back, and leaves his hand there as he guides Lucifer toward the door. “Let’s be off.”
Lucifer doesn’t point out that he never actually agreed to go and meet Rosie, but Alastor seems excited about it. If she’s as nutty as he and Mimzy appear to be, it ought to be a fun time.
The night air is humid and warm when they walk out, and Lucifer already misses the air-conditioned interior of the bar. He undoes another button of his pink shirt, and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows.
“Do we need to get a ride?” he asks, brushing his fingers over the vines on the old wall they walk alongside.
“It’s not too far, only a few blocks thataway, but I think you could just about fit in my pocket if you get tired.”
Alastor laughs gleefully at the withering look Lucifer sends him.
They head in the direction that Lucifer had originally come from, chatting idly along the way while they still can.
As they draw ever closer to the buzzing crowd of bar crawlers and tourists that Lucifer had waded through earlier, Alastor tells him of the time some hapless fool had brought a cowboy hat-wearing miniature pony to the area one night, and his pal Niffty had ridden it halfway down the street before the fellow had noticed.
Now that it’s gotten later, the crowd is even more dense and lively. Try as he might to stick to Alastor’s side, Lucifer loses sight of him when a rowdy group shoves their way between them. For a moment, he’s caught up in the foot traffic going the opposite direction until he sees Alastor bullying his way past people to grab his hand. Their fingers are laced together, and Alastor leans in close.
“I think I’ll hold onto this for a while,” he speaks low against Lucifer’s ear, the better to be heard over the din of the street.
Lucifer can’t help but shiver at the light contact, and he swallows hard. Boy, it’s been some time since anyone’s been that close. He needs to keep it together.
Alastor leads the charge with Lucifer pulled along behind him, and they weave their way through the busy street. Eventually, the skyline becomes more visible as they come to another street with multiple lanes, lined with shiny, modern storefronts peppered in with the historical architecture, and tall office buildings beyond them.
They make a turn, going just a bit further and...there it is.
Just ahead, in an otherwise empty park, is a traveling carnival. It’s the kind that pop up every summer; fried foods, cheap prizes and rides that you’re not entirely sure are safe, but go on anyway.
A grin stretches across Lucifer’s face as he hears the cacophony of music, joyful screaming and electronic games. It’s been forever since he’d been to one of these. They’re overpriced and junky, sure, but they’re fun. He eyes the various booths in the distance and their bright cycling lights before he realizes he’s been wandering closer, lured in by the siren song of summer nostalgia.
There’s a tug of resistance, and Lucifer looks back—Alastor’s hand is still in his, and it seems neither of them is about to let go.
“Can we? Just for a little bit!” Lucifer tries to pull Alastor over, but he stands his ground. He looks conflicted though, so maybe it won’t take much to wear him down. “Please? Pleasepleaseplease.”
“How old are you, again?” Alastor looks back and forth between the park and Lucifer’s attempt at puppy eyes, and sighs a bit even as he smiles. “Oh, why not? Lead the way.”
“Yes!” Lucifer triumphantly lifts their joined hands in the air. “Oh boy, let’s see…”
First things first: food.
Churros, funnel cakes, corn dogs! More cotton candy than you could shake a stick at! Huge slices of pizza soggy with grease, root beer floats and fried pickles! Maybe he should have eaten a better dinner before going out.
Pulling Alastor along, Lucifer is spoiled for choice as they meander through the booths and little trailers serving all manner of treats. They come to a stop beside a colorful one that boasts a good variety.
“You hungry?” Lucifer asks. “I’m thinking lemonade and a funnel cake.”
Alastor gives the list of items available a cursory glance, and walks right up to the counter to order Lucifer’s choices, plus a small bag of boiled peanuts. He’s already in the middle of paying before Lucifer can interject, but he supposes he did buy their drinks earlier, so fair enough.
“Thanks, agh it smells so good!” Lucifer goes to accept his treats from Alastor’s hands only to have them lifted out of reach.
“Oh, this is all mine.” Alastor grins teasingly, and takes a big sip of the lemonade. “Ahh, refreshing!”
“Hey!”
Rather than suffer the indignity of jumping up to reach his food, Lucifer snatches Alastor’s peanuts that still sit on the counter and cracks one open, looking him straight in the eye as he eats it. Alastor just laughs when Lucifer mutters about boiled peanuts being ‘grandpa food’, and hands over his precious funnel cake in exchange.
They move on as they eat, sharing Lucifer’s drink and dodging rambunctious, giggling children while debating whether or not they should choose to ride anything.
Lucifer snags a napkin from a nearby booth to clean up the remnants of the snack he’d inhaled in record time, and off in a corner he spots a face painting station with a bored-looking attendant and no line to speak of.
“Hey, you wanna?” Lucifer grasps Alastor’s elbow to stop him and points it out.
“I don’t think so, but you go ahead.”
“Aww, come on. When’s the last time you got your face painted?”
“Last Mardi Gras,” Alastor answers readily, fiddling with a peanut shell before tossing it to the ground. “Come along, then.”
Alastor’s arm links with Lucifer’s, and he’s escorted over to the little table covered in tiny paint pots and sheets of temporary tattoos and stickers.
Lucifer pays for the both of them, and chooses a cute little music note design that the attendant paints high on his right cheek. He hops off the stool and offers it to Alastor, but the other man doesn’t move an inch, just stands stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back and practically glaring despite his small smile.
After a brief moment during which the poor attendant looks nervously between them, Lucifer awkwardly reaches for the black paint and a brush and steps over to Alastor. In an instant the tension is gone, and Alastor removes his glasses and crouches down before Lucifer even has to say anything. He laughs a little, careful not to spill the paint as he gently nudges Alastor’s face to turn a bit and copies the same design on his left cheek.
Though his features are relaxed, Alastor’s focused attention is a little intense as he watches him, and Lucifer has to try very hard to keep his own eyes fixed on his work.
“You didn’t want them touching you?” he asks quietly.
“A little quirk of mine. I don’t care to have strangers in my space.”
At that, Lucifer has to wonder when exactly he’d lost the ‘stranger’ status in Alastor’s eyes. They’ve only known each other for a couple of hours at this point, and it had taken less than that for Alastor to lead him into a dance that had involved a fair bit of physical contact.
“But you’re ok with me?” Lucifer asks to be certain.
“Of course!” Alastor’s quiet smile brightens as he answers assuredly, as if it was never in doubt. “You can touch me all you like.”
This guy.
Lucifer straightens up and turns away from Alastor’s cheeky grin to hide his blush and returns the supplies to the face painting station.
A photo might be fun. He pulls out his phone as he rejoins Alastor, who swiftly does the same.
“It just occurred to me that I never received your number,” Alastor says, unlocking it before holding it out. “Would you mind?”
He wants Lucifer to enter it himself? Okey dokey.
“Yeah, Char didn’t give me yours either.”
Lucifer takes Alastor’s phone as he hands over his own. He knows he should put a lock on the screen, but it’s a hassle he doesn’t need when he’s sometimes scatterbrained enough to forget what he was even unlocking it for.
He navigates to the contacts and enters his number, along with his full name. There are a lot of numbers in Alastor’s phone, but he doesn’t look too closely. No one likes a snoop, even if they did hand him their phone. He notes that there don’t seem to be any notifications before returning Alastor’s phone to him.
“Anything from Char for me?” Lucifer asks, accepting his back and disables the ‘do not disturb’ mode to confirm before going ahead and re-enabling it. “Ha, she’s probably sitting on her hands trying not to pester us.”
Alastor hadn’t entered his last name. Maybe he considers it unimportant for now, but Lucifer might just go ahead and pretend that it could be something unusual and embarrassing. Like, Butts. Or Gaywood. Alastor Assman.
That train of thought has him laughing, and he’s almost got it under control until they make eye contact again.
“Care to share?” Alastor tilts his head.
“No, sir.” Lucifer bites his lip hard, trying his best to fight back his bout of immaturity.
Giving him a little eye roll when he’s not let in on the joke, Alastor continues on through the carnival, leaving Lucifer to catch up once he’s recovered from his giggles. Ah, he’d forgotten to get that photo. Maybe later.
They wander towards a line of booths set up with games of chance, and Alastor stops short, causing Lucifer to run into him.
“What is that thing?”
Lucifer follows Alastor’s eye line to a prize plush hanging over the counter of the stall before them—some kind of creepy, demented-looking red cat thing with a wide, shark-like smile.
“Want me to win that thing for you?” Lucifer smirks.
“Not really.”
“Well, now I have to.”
After he finds a few singles in his wallet, Lucifer struts over and slaps the bills down on the counter.
“Your finest ping pong balls, please!”
The guy behind the counter sighs loudly and almost slams a little bin of them in front of him.
Rude.
Alastor comes to stand at his side, looking a little more keen than he’d let on. Who doesn’t like having their date win them stuff? Nobody, that’s who. All Lucifer has to do is toss the ball into a little bucket—one with a red rim. Of which there are five, out of...like, thirty-five? Fifty? He’s not a numbers guy.
His first toss bounces around between the buckets, ultimately landing in a plain one. Tries two and three aren’t much better. Damn, his aim is shit. Two tries left, and he’s not hunting down an ATM after this. The ball bounces off a red-rimmed bucket on try number four, and try number five ensures his three dollars go right down the drain.
So much for impressing Alastor.
“Aw, tough luck, little guy,” the attendant gruffly taunts. “Maybe your boyfriend there can win his own prize.” He spits the word out from around the toothpick he’s chewing on. Lucifer hopes he chokes on it.
“Hmm. Maybe I can...,” Alastor muses. As the attendant busies himself with collecting the balls, Alastor simply reaches up and unclips the cursed cat thing. “Oh, would you look at that!”
“You won!” Lucifer gasps dramatically, playing along. “Good job, babe!”
Alastor smiles brightly and pulls Lucifer with him away from the stall, both of them laughing over the angry shouts from behind them. The scattered carnival-goers provide good cover, but it’s probably best they leave before word gets out. They make it back to the road, and Lucifer squeezes Alastor’s hand as they get back on track to Rosie’s.
“That was fun,” Lucifer sighs. He can’t stop smiling. “You happy?”
“Mm...doesn’t it look a bit like it might come alive when you aren’t looking?” Alastor holds up the plush to look it over. “Maybe you should take it.”
“Nuh-uh, it’s all yours.”
Lucifer chuckles as Alastor idly swings the thing in circles by the tail for the rest of their journey. It doesn’t take much longer at all, and they come to a stop at a charming old boutique with a veranda nearly overflowing with ferns and flowers.
“It’s closed,” Lucifer peers through the barred windows at the dark interior. “Sorry, guess we should’ve skipped the carnival…”
“Oh, no—the old girl practically lives here!”
Alastor takes out his phone, and Lucifer hears from the loud ringing that he’s put the call on speaker.
“Hey, hon!” the voice on the other end greets them.
“Rosie! Get your drawers on and come down to the shop!” Alastor leans back and looks up toward the veranda like he’s trying to speak to her more directly. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”
“Ah, hi there, Rosie,” Lucifer says to the phone that Alastor moves closer to him. “I’m Lucifer, Alastor’s date.”
“Oh my—I’ll be right down!”
As it turns out, Rosie does live here, in the second-floor apartment.
The lights inside flicker on, and a tall woman in an elegant dressing gown bustles over to unlock the door and let them in.
As soon as they enter, Rosie opens her arms wide and pulls Alastor into a hug, trading cheek kisses with him.
“Look at your little matching tattoos!” Rosie coos. “Gee whiz, what have you been up to?”
“We stopped at a carnival on the way,” Alastor informs her, and bops her with his creepy plush. “We stole this.”
“How whimsical! Lucifer, was it? Lovely to meet you, honey,” she takes Lucifer’s hand in both of hers and squeezes briefly before letting go. “Alastor’s date, oh my goodness. It ain’t often he even entertains the idea!”
“I’m as surprised as you are!” Alastor says. “As it happens, it was a blind date. Our dear friend Charlie set me up with her father here.”
“Oh, Charlie?” Rosie’s eyes widen as she looks back to Lucifer. “Of course! Charming little dame, you must be so proud!”
“Hah, thanks—I am,” Lucifer smiles. “Wow, you’ve got some snazzy stuff in here, huh?”
His observation earns him a high-pitched laugh, and Rosie links arms with him to guide him around her shop. The ‘emporium’ as it’s called looks like just the kind of place he’d come to treat himself, if he had the extra money these days. Almost everything it in is personally curated vintage pieces and high-end garments from local ateliers.
Rosie sits them at a little cafe table in the corner and serves them leftover champagne and the remnants of a charcuterie board, and Lucifer is only a little surprised that this is the kind of shop that offers such refreshments to customers. He helps himself to more cheese than is probably sensible, answers Rosie’s questions about himself and laughs along with them over her little anecdotes and banter with Alastor.
Lucifer likes her; she’s warm and welcoming, and talks to Lucifer like they’re already friends. Boy, he could really use more of those. He hopes like hell that there will be more nights like this one.
But for now, they’ve kept her too long, and Rosie reminds Alastor that she has to open in the morning.
As they head for the door, a jewelry case that Lucifer had overlooked earlier catches his eye. Inside are brooches, hat pins, and lapel pins, like Alastor is wearing. One set in particular calls to him: a delicate, golden snake paired with a red enamel apple.
Real gold, just look at that price tag!
“Find something you like?” Rosie asks.
“Sure did,” Lucifer replies. “Too bad I can’t really afford it just now.”
Alastor leans over his shoulder to have a look.
“I’ll get it for you,” he says seriously.
“Oh, um. That’s kind of a lot for a guy you just met, isn’t it?”
“Halfsies, then.” Alastor grins.
Lucifer chuckles. “I mean, if you really want? I’ll have to pay you back later; don’t have any of those little apps on my phone.”
“Hmm. I think I wouldn’t mind being treated to dinner instead.”
“Oh. Yeah, that works. It’s a date!”
Little butterflies flutter through Lucifer’s stomach at the thought that not only is Alastor interested enough to help him buy something nice for himself, he’s also actually looking forward to spending more time with him later.
Rosie unlocks the case, and goes over to the counter to make a note about Alastor’s purchase for later because she’s ‘not about to start up the system just for this’, and she knows Alastor’s good for it.
Lucifer lets Alastor turn him around to face him, and the man moves in to do up a few buttons so his collar will lay properly. Every incidental brush of Alastor’s fingers makes Lucifer’s skin tingle as the pins are carefully attached for him.
“There we are,” Alastor murmurs.
Lucifer blinks, only just realizing he’d been staring at Alastor. The other man smiles and smooths invisible wrinkles from Lucifer’s shirt before guiding him over to a hanging mirror. He stands behind Lucifer, hands on his shoulders as he leans in.
“’Temptation’, indeed,” Alastor says, his voice almost a whisper.
In their reflection, Lucifer’s eyes meet Alastor’s, a paler green than his own. Alastor’s thumb presses into the knob of Lucifer’s spine just right, and he flinches at the tiny moan that escapes him. Alastor snickers quietly, lightly rubbing Lucifer’s back as he steps away.
Rosie returns to walk them to the door, and she pulls Alastor into another hug.
“Thanks for coming to see me, I’m so pleased you two are hitting it off,” Rosie says. “I heartily approve—he’s no Vox, at least!”
“What’s a vox?” Lucifer raises a brow.
“A nuisance,” Alastor deadpans.
Before Lucifer can ask, Rosie gently pulls him aside.
“Now Lucifer—this one can be a handful and a little mean, but I love him to pieces and if it’s meant to be, I know you will, too.” Rosie squeezes his shoulder before pushing him towards the door. “Now go on, you two! I need my beauty sleep already!”
With that, they bid her good night and start back down the road, ambling along slowly and silently.
Lucifer isn’t ready for the night to end, but Alastor hasn’t suggested anything further. Should he suggest something? Go back to Mimzy’s, and dance the night away? What if Alastor has somewhere to be in the morning?
“Would you like to come home with me?” Alastor asks.
Oh.
Oh boy.
Lucifer stops himself from tripping and gives a little wheeze, trying to keep himself from getting tongue-tied.
“Y-yeah! Yeah, totally, we can—I can do that.”
“Perfect!”
Alastor whips out his phone to arrange a ride. They hadn’t had too much champagne, but a buzz is a buzz and Lucifer doesn’t really want to walk all the way back to his car anyway. He hopes he can remember where he parked it tomorrow.
Their ride arrives, and the journey to Alastor’s is uneventful—but the constant teasing brush of Alastor’s fingers over the inside of his wrist has Lucifer’s heart pounding more than it probably should.
They’re driven through a cozy-looking residential neighborhood, and dropped off at a small but beautifully-kept old shotgun house, white with tall red zinnias planted in the tiny scrap of front lawn. Lucifer follows Alastor up the steps, and just about leaps out of his skin at the abrasive voice that calls out behind them.
“Alastor! Do you know what time it is, young man!? Slamming car doors like that!”
Across the street, on her own front porch is an irate, elderly woman hunched over on a cane and squinting her dark eyes at them.
“Hello, Susan,” Alastor grits out through a tense smile. “You’ve managed to make it another day, I see. No rest for the wicked!”
“Does your ma know you’re bringing girls into her house this late!?”
“Excuse me?” Lucifer looks down at himself. Does he look girly? Is it because he’s short? Is it the pink?
“Lordy, but she’s got a husky voice on her!” Susan stamps her cane. “What’s wrong with that Rosie of yours, huh? Why aren’t you settled down yet!?”
“Good night!” Alastor calls over his shoulder as he unlocks his front door.
Lucifer joins him inside, quizzically looking back at the old woman who appears to be perfectly happy continuing the conversation by herself as Alastor shuts the door.
“She seems like a...colorful character for a neighbor?” Lucifer chuckles.
“An ornery old bitch is what she is.”
Alastor goes through the motions of making himself more comfortable now that he’s home, placing his glasses, the contents of his pockets and the horrible cat plush onto a small table by the door that seems to serve as a catch-all. Lucifer goes ahead and does the same.
It’s past one o’clock, and he considers whether he should update Charlie or not. Nah, ‘no news is good news’ when your dad’s out on a date, right? He hands Alastor his phone when he asks for it, letting him take it over to a little charging dock.
“So...did she imply that you live with your mother?”
Lucifer really hopes not. God, what if she’s around his age? That would be awkward.
“I don’t; She moved into a little retiree community a few years ago. Apparently, I should have the house to myself at my age.”
Lucifer looks around the small living room; it’s fairly dated, with many framed photographs decorating the walls, several in black and white. Properly old, not stylized. Generations of Alastor’s family. If he looks closely, he notices a few photos are cropped a bit crookedly. They seem to have the very edge of a man’s shoulder, or a hand, like there had been an attempt at erasing the individual from memory.
One photo in particular makes him smile: a teen-aged Alastor, awkward and gangly beside a woman with tight, sideswept locs, and between them a sweet-looking elderly woman dressed in her Sunday best with a birthday cake in front of her. The candles read ‘ninety-six’.
“My mother, and great-grandmother,” Alastor tells him. “We moved in here with her when I was thirteen.”
He says nothing more than that, and steps away again.
Lucifer turns to find him shuffling through a small pile of record sleeves, and is surprised to see an actual gramophone on top of the cabinet he’s stood next to. More surprising is the amount of vintage radios of various design covering the top of an old upright piano.
“Do any of these work?” Lucifer asks as he leans in for a closer look.
“A few,” Alastor answers as he loads a record onto the turntable, and winds the hand crank. “I like to tinker with them in my spare time, but sourcing the necessary parts can get expensive.”
Taking in the slightly mismatched and outdated décor on this side of the room, Lucifer notes bits of jazz memorabilia here and there. There doesn’t even seem to be a television. Combined with a few other elements, it paints a bigger picture.
“So, you’re like some kind of jazz hipster, huh?”
There’s a clatter as Alastor fumbles with his records.
“Pardon?”
“You speak kinda old-timey sometimes, you’re really into jazz and all this old music stuff, you like to hang out at Mimzy’s bar and dance,” Lucifer lists off his observations. “Got a case of ‘born in the wrong decade’, huh?”
“I am nothing so shallow as a ‘hipster’, and I’m sure I could do without the higher level of barefaced racism I’d have dealt with,” Alastor grumbles. “I’m quite happy with this decade. Call it a ‘lifestyle’, if you must.”
“Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to step on your toes, there,” Lucifer slowly raises a hand to gently squeeze Alastor’s elbow. “’Everybody needs a hobby’, right? You’re just very dedicated. Actually, it’s...pretty attractive, as qualities go.”
“Is it? Then you might be interested to know that I also host my own educational talk show at a local jazz station.”
“You’re a radio host? That’s amazing, why were you so dodgy about it earlier!?”
“I’m just funny that way, I suppose,” Alastor shrugs.
Lucifer watches as he carefully lifts the tonearm with his fingertips and sets the needle in place. The sound produced is fuzzy and a little tinny, littered with tiny scratches and pops, but the effect is a charming overlay to the arrangement of trumpet, piano and ukulele. He recognizes the voice of Billie Holiday, but the name of the song eludes him.
It doesn’t matter, because music is pretty much the last thing on Lucifer’s mind as Alastor takes his hands, guides one up to rest on his shoulder, and leads him into a loose, swaying box step.
They move slowly through the cramped space, and Lucifer chuckles when Alastor accidentally backs him up into the coffee table. Neither of them are paying much attention to their surroundings. For his part, Lucifer is much more interested in the tiny lines around Alastor’s eyes, the angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips.
“I wanna say...just, thanks for tonight,” Lucifer speaks quietly between them.
Alastor tilts his head. “It’s not over already, is it?”
Of course it isn’t. But Lucifer isn’t used to this; he knows where they could go from here—just not quite how to get there. The only real indication that Alastor might possibly be interested in sex was his little quip by the mirror back at Rosie’s. They haven’t even so much as kissed yet, unless you count sharing a straw.
Now that he’s considered the possibility more concretely, it’s all Lucifer can think about.
He steps in close enough that he can just about feel Alastor’s body heat. His hand smooths over Alastor’s shoulder, and he traces his fingers up the back of Alastor’s neck to lightly brush over the close-shaven hair at his nape. A tiny shiver runs through the other man, and Lucifer smiles as he gently tugs him downward, standing on tiptoe to reach him.
It might just be the softest, most tender and comforting kiss that Lucifer has ever felt.
The gentle contact fills him with an oddly profound sense of relief, and he sighs through his nose as he takes Alastor’s face in both hands. A hand is spread across his back, trapping him tightly against Alastor’s body as the man just barely flicks his tongue over Lucifer’s parted lips.
A whimper sits at the back of his throat as their tongues briefly meet between the increasingly firm, repeated press of their lips. It’s embarrassing, but Lucifer can’t help it when that whimper turns into a squeak as Alastor’s other hand finds his rear and squeezes.
Alastor stops kissing him to laugh, pressing his lips to Lucifer’s hairline instead.
Thinks it’s funny, does he? In retaliation, Lucifer reaches behind him to grab two handfuls of Alastor’s ass, squeezing the firm flesh and smirking up at him.
“How do you like it, huh?”
“It’s nice, but nothing to squeal over,” Alastor teases.
“I did not squeal.”
But he does now though; a surprised cry escapes Lucifer as Alastor grabs him and hauls him into his arms, forcing Lucifer to wrap his arms and legs around him.
They both laugh into the deep kiss that Lucifer initiates as Alastor slowly and clumsily takes them through to the back of the house. This kind of thing always seems much easier in the movies, but it’s still fun despite the knock to Lucifer’s shoulder when they run into a door frame.
They reach Alastor’s bedroom relatively unscathed, and Lucifer slides down Alastor’s body as he’s slowly dropped to his feet. His hands are held against the other man’s chest, keeping him from closing in for a moment as he calms down enough to assess the situation.
“Are you sure you wanna do this with a guy you just met?” he asks, meeting Alastor’s eyes as his own adjust to the dim light of the room.
The question seems to surprise Alastor at first, and Lucifer waits as he mulls over his answer.
“You know, it feels as if I’ve known you for longer than an evening.” Alastor says softly.
It could just be a line, but he doesn’t think so; from the sound of things, Alastor has been out of the dating game almost as much as Lucifer has. Besides—it feels that way for him too, strangely enough.
Lucifer is just enough of a hopeless romantic to want to believe in love at first sight, but he believes in it like one might believe in aliens. Improbable, but not impossible. Not something to expect, or hope for. If this were a story, he could almost imagine that they might have met in another reality, and were able to find each other and connect in this one.
He really needs to stop reading so many romance novels.
Alastor seems to think that his own admission was a clear enough answer, as he’s already carefully removing his chained lapel pins and undoing the buttons of his shirt. Lucifer stands in a bit of a stupor as the expanse of Alastor’s torso is revealed; lithe and toned, with a dusting of dark, coarse hair trailing from his chest to below his navel.
Lucifer can’t help himself; his lips are directly in line with the little space between the bottom of Alastor’s ribs, and he presses his mouth to the tender spot in a wet kiss, working his way down his belly as he sinks to his knees.
Alastor’s breath hitches, making his stomach jump as Lucifer presses his tongue into his belly button and leaves sucking little bites at his hipbone. The other man is already fairly hard, and Lucifer impatiently unbuckles his belt before tugging down his pants and boxers.
The erection he’s presented with is...impressive. Alastor’s a tall guy; it’s perfectly proportionate, if a little generous. But beyond what men there had been among the few barely-remembered, meaningless encounters shortly following the divorce, all Lucifer’s really had to contend with in the past couple of decades are toys.
“Fair warning: I might be terrible at this,” Lucifer says, looking up at Alastor as he rests his chin on his thigh. “Been a long time.”
He’s not entirely sure if stuffing a dildo in his mouth on his more desperate nights makes for good practice or not, but he’s eager to find out.
Alastor chuckles, raking his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, and shuffles them back a bit so he can lean against the wall.
“The important thing is that you try your best and have fun!” he says encouragingly.
Lucifer snorts. “Thanks, coach.”
He sits up higher on his knees, and presses his lips to the very bottom of Alastor’s belly. Hands pet through Lucifer’s hair as he teases the other man with little flicks of his tongue, curling his fingers around to stroke at the soft skin of Alastor’s upper thighs. With open-mouthed kisses, Lucifer works his way down, until a hand in his hair holds him in place.
Alastor takes himself in hand, and guides the tip to Lucifer’s mouth, gently butting it against his lips.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Alastor murmurs.
The pet name sends a little thrill through Lucifer, and he licks his lips, inadvertently catching a taste of precome on his tongue as he opens up for him. Alastor continues to hold him still, pushing in until Lucifer can feel the head nudging at his soft palate. He winces a bit, and then the hands gripping him soften.
While he’s relieved to be able to go at his own pace to start with, Lucifer hopes like hell that Alastor plans to take control like that again.
He swirls his tongue under the silky weight of him, simply holding him in his mouth as he becomes accustomed to the pressure so close to his throat. Unable to swallow around Alastor, Lucifer pulls off to do so, and closes his fist around him. His thumb and forefinger don’t meet.
He presses the flat of his tongue against the tip, slowly pumping his fist for a moment before Alastor seems to get impatient. He gently takes Lucifer’s hand away, and slowly feeds his cock back into his mouth. Guy knows what he wants, he’ll give him that.
Just like before, Lucifer takes him as deep as is comfortable. This time, though, Alastor doesn’t let him pull off to swallow. He’s not practiced enough to do it with his mouth full, and he groans at the feeling of drool beginning to run down his chin with every bob of his head.
It takes a bit of work, but eventually Alastor’s cock just meets the back of his throat. Lucifer doesn’t quite gag, but there’s a quick tension of muscle and he’s rewarded with a breathy little moan from the man above him.
It’s unlikely that Lucifer will be able to take him all the way, but he’s happy to let Alastor do as he pleases now, provided he doesn’t get too excited. Gripping the backs of Alastor’s thighs, he tugs him forward, encouraging him to fuck his mouth. Alastor pushes in as deep as they’ve gauged Lucifer can manage, keeping his thrusts slow and measured.
“Mmh, are you sure you weren’t being modest?” Alastor asks, scratching lightly at Lucifer’s scalp. “You’re doing very well.”
It’s good, it’s so good to be used and praised like this.
Lucifer has always enjoyed servicing his partner, doing everything he can to please them, regardless of the role he’s playing. With that in mind, he reaches up to hold Alastor’s balls, rolling them gently before creeping his fingers further back. Lucifer tugs the man’s pants to his ankles to allow for the eager spread of his legs, and gently presses his fingers into the soft give of his perineum.
“Fuck, yes, Lucifer...”
Lucifer whines through his nose as Alastor’s pace quickens.
It’s almost addicting, the way every other thrust nudges him just barely into Lucifer’s throat. The girth of him causes Lucifer’s teeth to drag if he’s not careful, but it doesn’t seem to deter Alastor at all. His fingers rub a little deeper, adding pressure to stimulate the sensitive gland inside, and the buck of Alastor’s hips causes him to go too deep.
He barely manages not to gag, and it’s a relief when Alastor lets him pull off. The hand in his hair moves to rub the back of his neck while Lucifer catches his breath with his messy face pressed to Alastor’s thigh.
“Doing all right, down there?”
Lucifer cranes his neck to trail his eyes up and up, over Alastor’s flushed, glistening skin. He’s nearly naked but for the shirt falling around his shoulders, and Lucifer feels a little proud to have gotten him looking like this already.
“All good. Hell of a view,” Lucifer answers with a wink.
“I’ll say,” Alastor’s smile widens as he nudges his cock into Lucifer’s cheek.
Before Lucifer can take him in his mouth again, Alastor takes Lucifer’s free hand and wraps it around his length, covering it with his own and guiding their joined hands to jerk himself off. It’s a little awkward, but Lucifer can tell he’s getting close. The fingers he has pressed behind Alastor’s balls slip further back to tease at his entrance, causing Alastor to gasp and tighten his grip.
Lucifer leans in to suck lightly at Alastor’s tip, digging his tongue in to lap up the slick collecting there.
“Come in my mouth,” he pleads, almost desperate for it.
He meets Alastor’s wide eyes, holding his mouth open, tongue ready to catch all that Alastor has to give him.
“Fuck, fuck!”
Alastor comes almost instantly with a low, strained groan, as if he’d taken Lucifer’s words as a command. Lucifer’s lips are painted with Alastor’s release, and he closes his mouth over his tip to ensure he doesn’t miss any more. Each pulse of Alastor’s orgasm coats his tongue in a thick, musky flavor that has Lucifer humming in contentment.
Above him, Alastor pants and goes slack against the wall. As Lucifer pulls off, Alastor takes his chin in his hand and pries his mouth open, looking pleasantly surprised, like he hadn’t really expected this.
Actually, he might be a little too into it, judging by the way he isn’t letting Lucifer close his mouth. Alastor lets go of his chin to press his fingers into Lucifer’s mouth, rubbing them through the mess on his tongue. He blinks up at Alastor, brows furrowed to send him a questioning look.
“Swallow.” Alastor makes it sound like a suggestion, as if Lucifer ought to have known but needed prompting.
God, this guy is a pervert and Lucifer is here for it.
He whines at the back of his throat as his lips seal as well as they’re able around the fingers in his mouth, slurping noisily as he swallows down what he can. The rest runs down his neck, and Lucifer feels positively debauched as Alastor pulls his fingers free and smears them across his cheek.
“You’re kind of filthy, aren’t you?” Lucifer laughs a bit, wiping at his mouth.
“Says the one covered in it.”
Alastor pulls him to his feet, and Lucifer hisses as his stiff knees protest the straightening of his legs. Should’ve found a pillow first. Alastor shrugs out of his shirt, and tucks his fingers under Lucifer’s chin to tilt his face up.
Something about the way that Alastor presses a kiss to his forehead before gently wiping him clean after that act of borderline degradation makes Lucifer feel oddly gooey inside. Lucifer must have some kind of look on his face; probably one that smacks of dopey infatuation, because Alastor’s looks bemused.
“What is it?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“Nothing.” Lucifer smiles crookedly.
Alastor lets it go.
It seems he’s much more interested in getting Lucifer as bare as he is; he’s quick to unbutton Lucifer’s shirt, but careful in his folding of it despite the messy collar, keeping the new lapel pins in place. They make short work of the rest, and Lucifer gets a kick out of the way Alastor had apparently forgotten he was wearing shoes as he momentarily traps himself in his pant leg.
Alastor hops and wobbles dangerously, but they manage to free him before the situation devolves into a slapstick comedy. Lucifer continues to laugh about it anyway. Alastor just turns on the bedside lamp, then grabs him and drops him onto the bed, and kisses Lucifer’s smile with his own.
Mere hours ago, Lucifer had been nervous and insecure about going on his first date in years. Now here he is, with someone he can laugh with even during sex. The way they’ve clicked in such a short amount of time is inexplicable, but Lucifer can’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun—the last time he’d felt this happy.
Lucifer hums into Alastor’s mouth as he’s kissed slow and deep and long. He doesn’t mind the slight shortness of breath as Alastor lies on top of him with his full weight; it’s comforting, and yet a little exhilarating to have the illusion of being trapped.
The buck of Lucifer’s hips grinds his ignored erection into Alastor’s belly, but the movement only prompts Alastor to lift up enough to take his kisses elsewhere. The other man straddles him, his big hands smoothing up Lucifer’s body to roll his nipples between his fingers as he lightly scrapes his teeth over Lucifer’s neck.
“Is it all right if I leave marks?” Alastor asks, mumbling into the skin under his ear.
“I’d be pretty disappointed if you didn’t,” Lucifer smirks, and pushes his hands through Alastor’s thick, brown curls as the man bites down.
It’s the good kind of pain, and Lucifer moans a little breathlessly as Alastor takes full advantage of the permission given. Several bruises are sucked into his skin, covering his neck, chest and belly. They’re fresh and light for the moment, but Lucifer knows they’ll be stark and purple against his pale skin later on.
It'll be nice to use concealer on something other than his eye bags for a change.
By the time Alastor makes his way to Lucifer’s hips, he’s feeling pretty impatient. He bucks again, smearing precome onto Alastor’s collarbone.
“Didn’t realize you were part leech,” he teases, looking down at all the marks left on him.
“Are you complaining now?” Alastor pinches his side before leaning in and taking Lucifer’s cock in his mouth, slowly sucking him down to the root.
Lucifer gasps, holding onto Alastor’s shoulders and digging his nails in.
“Holy shit—no, ‘m not, not complaining,” he babbles.
For a moment Alastor holds himself there, looking up at him and Lucifer can feel his throat lightly convulsing around him. God, it feels amazing. Maybe later he can ask for tips, for the next time they do this.
Alastor closes his eyes, forces himself down til his nose is pressed to the light hair of Lucifer’s belly, and swallows.
“Oh, fuck, Alastor!” Lucifer bites his lip, feeling himself twitch in the man’s mouth. “Are you—I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”
For a moment, he’s left in suspense, lightly panting and forcing himself not to move. Finally, Alastor seems to have decided he’d like to breathe properly and slowly lifts up, wiping at his smug smile.
“Turn over for me.”
Lucifer scrambles to obey, flipping onto his stomach under Alastor and shivering when the man presses against him as he leans over to open a drawer in his night stand. Once Alastor finds what he needs, he drops the items on the bed next to them and scoots back, sitting between Lucifer’s legs and spreading him open.
Lucifer goes red at being revealed so completely, though it’s not from humiliation as much as it is just plain arousal and anticipation. He shivers again as Alastor kisses across his back and palms his cheeks, squeezing firmly.
“Would you mind checking the date on these for me, darling?” Alastor makes his request against Lucifer’s shoulder blade, nipping lightly as he places a box of condoms by Lucifer’s face.
Oh, right. He’d momentarily forgotten that Alastor would’ve needed his glasses. Lucifer takes the box and flips it around, looking for the information.
“Uhh, looks like these’re about a year past their prime,” Lucifer tells him. “I know it’s been a while since you dated, too, but have you not…needed them?”
“Those are old! The last time I had occasion to need them was over two years ago now.” Alastor pauses a moment, rubbing soothingly up and down Lucifer’s back. “What do you want to do?”
Get fucked, obviously.
It’s irresponsible, and they both know it. Neither of them seem to care, either, by the way they haven’t written the idea off outright.
“Let’s go ahead?” Lucifer looks over his shoulder at him. “I know I’m clean, but if it turns out you’re not, I know where you live, punk.”
Alastor chuckles, and leans over to kiss Lucifer’s shoulder.
“Thanks for putting your trust in me.”
There’s the crack of a bottle flipping open behind him, and Lucifer jumps slightly at the first touch of Alastor’s wet fingers against him. They tease at his rim, swirling gently as Alastor holds him open and leaves more little bites to his lower back. Alastor tests the give with the tip of his finger, and Lucifer moans quietly at the smooth glide of the full digit inside of him.
“Well, that was a little easier than I anticipated,” Alastor says, sounding amused.
“I use toys pretty often, so I’m kinda used to it,” Lucifer mumbles into his arm.
“Oh, you, too?”
Alastor leaves it at that, and now Lucifer has to lie here imagining what the guy must look like while fucking himself. Should’ve tried to finger him earlier.
Maybe next time.
Lucifer grinds himself into the mattress, bearing down on the two fingers Alastor now has within him. It’s pleasant, but he seems to be purposely avoiding where it would feel best, focusing instead on loosening him up.
“Lift up on your knees, please.”
Lucifer does, letting Alastor’s hand on his hip guide him. It’s kind of awkward, not a position he assumes often. Or ever, really. Alastor shifts behind him, leaning over to kiss next to where he’s now working three slick fingers inside of him. Lucifer gasps at the hint of tongue, but then Alastor’s mouth traces down to where his ass meets his thigh, opens his mouth wide, and bites.
“Ah! Jeez, Al…,” Lucifer winces as Alastor sucks hard at the tender spot. “Trying to brand me back there?”
Alastor takes another moment to dig his teeth in before laving his tongue over what’s sure to be a big, honkin’ bruise later that Lucifer will feel each time he sits down.
“Now, why would I do that?” There’s a smile in Alastor’s voice as his hot breath fans over Lucifer’s skin.
The fingers inside him twist, and Alastor rubs deep and firm over his prostate in a way that has Lucifer moaning and pushing back as if he could get them deeper. A kiss is pressed to Lucifer’s tailbone as Alastor palms his cheek to open him up, and the man’s tongue runs down his crease, stopping just above where his fingers disappear into him.
Oh god, is he gonna…?
Lucifer whines deep in his throat as he tries to spread his legs further. However, instead of feeling Alastor’s tongue at his rim, he feels a mouthful of slick, cool saliva trail down and pool over Alastor’s fingers before it gets pushed inside of him.
“Mmm, you’re so gross,” Lucifer groans quietly, clenching tightly and trying to rock back against Alastor’s hold.
Alastor laughs, lightly nipping at him and pulling his fingers free.
“Sit up,” he directs with a light tap to Lucifer’s ass.
“Gross and bossy.”
“Complaining about things you seem to enjoy again, hm?”
“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time.” Lucifer sends him another wink over his shoulder.
He snickers as he lets Alastor topple him, and reaches to take the hand held out to him. Newly upright, Lucifer shuffles to the side to make room for Alastor to pile pillows against the headboard and recline against them. After he’s settled, Alastor holds an arm out and pats his own thigh.
“Hop on!” he invites happily.
Lucifer snorts and climbs into Alastor’s lap, holding onto his shoulders to steady himself. He leans in for a kiss, and earns himself a delighted hum from Alastor when he nibbles at his lip.
This guy definitely has a weird thing for biting.
Not weird enough not to go along with it, though. He kisses across Alastor’s cheek to his ear, gently pinching the lobe between his teeth.
“What about me? Can I mark you up?” he asks lowly. He feels a shudder run through the other’s body.
“Please,” Alastor damn near begs, his hands gripped tight around Lucifer’s waist.
Lucifer had half-expected him to coyly mimic his own answer from before, but this is much better. He kisses down Alastor’s neck, teasingly nipping at him, opening his mouth wide against his skin just to hear him draw in a tight breath before backing off.
“What are you doing?” There’s a grumpy whine in Alastor’s voice.
“Teasing you.”
“Well, stop it.”
Lucifer gasps as Alastor shoves his cock against him, and he lowers more of his weight to let it rest between his cheeks. As he grinds against Alastor, he presses his mouth to the tender spot between neck and shoulder, and bites down.
Alastor sighs, pushing his hand into Lucifer’s hair and holding him in place. With nowhere to go, Lucifer closes his eyes and sucks at Alastor’s skin, working his teeth in to form a bruise that matches all those given to him.
“Harder,” Alastor whispers, wrapping an arm around Lucifer and holding him tight.
Lucifer sucks more firmly, dragging his teeth over the spot that he can feel rapidly inflaming until a tiny whimper of pain gives him pause. Tucking his head back as much as he’s allowed, Lucifer takes in the angry red of Alastor’s skin, flooded with darker pinpricks underneath that threaten to breach the surface.
“Hey, that’s enough,” Lucifer tugs himself out of Alastor’s grip. “Not messing around with blood, and if this is a pain play thing for you, we should talk about it later. I mean, if there is a later. If you want.”
“Of course; I’m sorry,” Alastor runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “...I’d like for there to be a later.”
“Me too,” Lucifer smiles and gently pokes the developing bruise on Alastor’s neck. “Don’t look so glum, you kinky bastard. Now come on, I’ve been hard for almost half an hour!”
“Well, don’t let me stop you!”
The bottle of lube is pressed into Lucifer’s hand, and Alastor settles back with his hands laced over his stomach, looking like he has a front row seat to a show he’s been anticipating.
Lucifer huffs a laugh and shakes his head.
He flicks open the bottle, and pours a generous amount into his hand. It’s thick, specially formulated for anal use. Good thing, too; he’s got his work cut out for him. Lucifer lifts up higher on his knees and reaches for Alastor, coating him thoroughly. Steadying himself with one hand on Alastor’s shoulder, he holds him in place as he slowly, slowly, sinks down.
It doesn’t take long to work in the tip; Lucifer just has to focus on not tensing up as he lowers himself further. He opens his eyes, having shut them in concentration, to see Alastor staring at him with smile on his face.
“Having a good time, there?” Lucifer asks, his voice slightly strained.
“I’d say so,” Alastor appreciatively eyes him up and down. “You’re still rather tight.”
“Might help if you touched me.”
Alastor brings one hand up to rest on Lucifer’s hip, while he uses the other to just barely brush his knuckles along the underside of Lucifer’s cock. It’s so light, it’s ticklish, and he gasps a bit as the automatic buck of his hips makes Alastor tug at his rim.
“Like this?” Alastor asks.
“You’re such a brat,” Lucifer pouts, but he does enjoy the way Alastor continues to pet him, stroking up and down his flank while holding a loose fist around him.
With his other hand braced on Alastor’s knee behind him, Lucifer lifts up off of his cock just to drop back down more heavily, sighing as more of the length is pushed inside him. It’s not that Alastor is ginormous, but the overall size difference between them is enough that it takes some doing. At maybe halfway, he deems it good enough to get a rhythm going.
Lucifer rests his hands against Alastor’s chest to help push himself up as he rides him, and leans in to kiss him.
“You feel so good,” he sighs into Alastor’s mouth, licking along his bottom lip.
“Mm. So do you,” Alastor says, and Lucifer can feel his smirk as the man squeezes his ass with both hands.
His chuckle gets lost in a gasp as the cock inside him grazes his sweet spot, and Lucifer brings his hand down with the intent of guiding Alastor to touch him less teasingly.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t get very far.
Lucifer clicks his tongue when Alastor stops him, about to complain until both of his hands are brought behind his back and his wrists are held together in one big fist.
“You like it when I’m ‘bossy’, don’t you?” Alastor asks with a smug look on his face.
“Rrghhhyes,” Lucifer groans, simultaneously frustrated and very turned on over being restrained in such a way.
He pauses in his feigned little struggle against Alastor’s hold when a hand cups his cheek.
“...This is all right?” Alastor asks, looking him in the eye.
Alastor’s etiquette has thus far seemed a little spotty, and while Lucifer is open to a lot, he still appreciates the effort—even if the guy asks for permission after the fact.
“More than ‘all right’, trust me,” Lucifer turns his head to kiss Alastor’s wrist. “Thanks for checking in.”
A little positive reinforcement couldn’t hurt.
Alastor wraps his arm around Lucifer to lift him upward, and guides him back down while pressing up into him. Then he does it again, and again, and something about being moved so effortlessly—just being bound, held still and fucked into, makes Lucifer feel a little dizzy.
Still not as full as he’d like to be, though. He exhales too harshly for it to be a sigh, and leans his forehead against Alastor’s shoulder, tugging restlessly in his hold.
“Are you in pain?” Alastor asks, nuzzling in to kiss Lucifer’s cheek.
“Not really, it’s just intense,” Lucifer mumbles. “S’good. You’re just not all the way in yet. It’s frustrating.”
“You don’t need to take me—“
“I want to, I really want to.”
At this point, Lucifer is craving the feeling of settling his full weight on Alastor’s lap. There’s going to be a ‘later’, Alastor had said so—and Lucifer is already looking forward to the day when he can take him with more ease.
Another kiss is pressed to his hairline, the words that follow it a soothing offer.
“Perhaps you’d like to fuck me, instead?”
Lucifer lifts his face out of Alastor’s neck to look at him; he’s completely serious, and his hands are already going slack around him.
It’s tempting—he can’t help but take a few seconds to consider it.
“Next time?” Lucifer asks softly. “Next time. Come on, don’t let me go.”
Alastor presses their foreheads together, sighing lightly and nodding against him. He opens his mouth, then closes it, looking like there’s something he wants to say. Before Lucifer can ask, Alastor tightens his grip on him again, and slowly pulls him down the rest of the way.
“Ahh!—hhah...mmh…”
While he could’ve done without the squeaky crack in his voice, it’s a relief to feel his hips flush with Alastor’s. He’s so full, easily the most he’s ever been, and he rocks a bit, getting used to the feeling of having Alastor so deep.
“Well done!” Alastor praises him, and the soft smile on his face gives Lucifer the impression that he’s honestly proud of him.
Alastor presses his free hand to the bottom of Lucifer’s stomach, and while there’s no visible bulge, Lucifer can feel a distinct resistance within him when Alastor applies a bit more pressure.
It’s a little bit strange, and incredibly hot.
“Hold onto me,” Alastor tells him abruptly.
The command is a little unnecessary, as that’s all Lucifer can do anyway as Alastor releases his wrists and shifts up onto his knees with one arm clutching Lucifer tight against him. It’s a much more elegant method of getting Lucifer underneath him than simply rolling them over in a heap, and the little show of strength isn’t bad, either.
Lucifer’s shoulders meet the mattress as his arms fall away from around Alastor’s neck, but his hips are held up, tight against the other man’s as they find their rhythm.
Or, as Alastor does.
Lucifer keens as he tilts his head back into the pillows, his legs slipping uselessly where they’re wrapped around Alastor as he’s fucked into. His hand scrabbles at Alastor’s where it’s braced on the bed next to him, taking hold of his scarred wrist in lieu of lacing their fingers together.
Alastor is a vision above him: those pale green eyes with their dark limbal ring, lidded and focused on Lucifer’s own; the hair stuck to his forehead with sweat that drips down his temple; the tensing of softly defined muscles in his abdomen as he moves.
“You’re so perfect,” Lucifer half-whispers as he tells him so.
To his credit, Alastor doesn’t falter, or argue with him. What he does do, is make Lucifer more certain of it as he grinds upward in quicker, more shallow strokes aimed in just the right way to have Lucifer’s breath catching in his throat.
It’s so good, but it’s missing something.
His leg falls away from around Alastor’s hip, and he reaches up to pull at Alastor’s shoulders with both hands.
“Wanna kiss you again,” Lucifer pants.
Alastor sucks in a breath and hesitates for all of two seconds before letting them sink further into the bed as he nearly lies on top of Lucifer, their difference in height requiring him to bend as he rests on his elbows. The angle isn’t as good, but it doesn’t matter, because Lucifer has Alastor’s beautiful face between his hands and his lips on his own.
The tight fist around his cock helps, too. Lucifer gasps and tries to buck into it, but there’s no room. He lightly scrapes his nails down Alastor’s back as he sucks on his tongue, and he’s rewarded with a low moan.
“I’m—going to come,” Alastor’s voice wavers as he speaks into Lucifer’s mouth.
“Mmyeah?” Lucifer tries to arch his back, wrapping his legs tight around Alastor’s hips again. “Come on, baby—”
Alastor tenses up, hips stuttering against Lucifer’s as he holds back. His eyes are shut tight as he bites his lip.
“Lucifer, I…”
“Alastor,” Lucifer whispers, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Inside me; I want you to, please.”
A ragged gasp is torn from Alastor’s throat as he grinds into Lucifer and comes, shoving against him like there’s a chance he could somehow get that much deeper. His orgasm seems to last a little longer than might be typical, judging by the way he continues to twitch inside Lucifer even as he zones out. Alastor rests his forehead against his shoulder as he gradually relaxes down into him.
Lucifer lets him rest a moment before guiding him into another kiss, combing his fingers through Alastor’s hair and luxuriating in the warmth spreading within him.
“Good one, huh?” Lucifer smirks when they part.
“Mhmm,” is Alastor’s sleepy reply.
Lucifer tries not to tense up as Alastor pulls out, moving down his body and leaving kisses upon each blossoming mark he’d left earlier. His legs are pushed open further, and Lucifer moans quietly as three long fingers glide through the mess leaking out of him before plunging in up to the third knuckle.
“Ahh, yes,” he sighs as Alastor rubs his fingertips in circles around his prostate.
It doesn’t take long to get him there, especially once Alastor takes him in his mouth.
Rather than pull that little trick from earlier, he licks his palm and strokes Lucifer tightly within the ring of his thumb and forefinger, sucking on his tip and prodding his tongue into the slit. It’s enough to have Lucifer squirming, gasping, and the eye contact that Alastor holds as he swallows down his release makes it that much more intense.
Panting and loose, he watches Alastor lick his lips as he pulls off. The glance spared to Lucifer’s used entrance doesn’t escape his notice, either. Alastor wipes his fingers off on Lucifer’s thigh, and crawls over him for a kiss.
His mouth isn’t quite as empty as Lucifer thought, and he strokes his fingertips over the hint of stubble at Alastor’s jaw as he sucks the taste of himself from his tongue.
“Mm, messy boy,” Lucifer purrs into Alastor’s mouth.
“The mess is half the fun,” he says in an oddly dark tone, like he’s letting Lucifer in on some kinky secret.
“At least until you’re no longer horny and still sitting in it,” Lucifer snorts, gently pushing him away so he can slip off the bed.
Alastor concedes his point and leads them through to his little bathroom to clean up.
The water refuses to run warm, but they help wipe each other down in spite of it, shivering all the while. Sadly, Alastor elects to scrub off their facepaint—he doesn’t want it smearing on the pillows any more than it already has. They find an unopened toothbrush for Lucifer and elbow each other out of the way at the sink, and Lucifer learns that Alastor prefers cinnamon toothpaste (eugh, wrong). Alastor openly admires the mark Lucifer had left on his neck, and won’t stop prodding it, even as it makes him wince.
All in all, it’s a pretty domestic little scene. It feels almost normal until Lucifer is standing in Alastor’s room, pulling on an oversized, threadbare t-shirt from the back of Alastor’s closet. He glances over at Alastor, looking cozy in his matching pajamas that fit him perfectly as he puts new sheets on the bed, and just like at the start of the evening, he has that strange sensation of reality settling in again.
“You really want me to stay the night?”
Alastor pauses turning down the duvet to give him a blank stare.
“You do, right, of course you do!” Lucifer shakes it off and jumps onto the bed, spreading out like a starfish. “Gosh. One date, and we’re already having a sleepover!”
Alastor chuckles and flicks off the bedside lamp, bathing the room in moonlight that filters through the blinds of the window, cracked open above the bed. A gentle breeze accompanies the soothing sound of crickets chirping and little frogs peeping that fills the silence as they get comfortable.
To Alastor, that means laying his head on Lucifer’s chest and holding him like a teddy bear. It’s more endearing than it has any right to be, and Lucifer squeezes his arms around him just a little tighter for a moment.
“Tonight has been...well, it’s really been something,” Alastor mumbles very quietly into his chest. “I’m...glad I met you, too.”
“No kidding,” Lucifer presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “This blind date thing worked out better than I could’ve hoped!”
Alastor only hums, shifting minutely and sighing into him. It’s late, and they can discuss whatever might come next in the morning.
What is happening in the morning?
Lucifer has nowhere to be—does Alastor? He answers with an ‘mm-mm’ in the negative when asked. Another moment of silence passes between them as Lucifer looks around the darkened room with heavy eyelids. There’s a couple mounted antlers in here. Does Alastor hunt? Or are they heirlooms? Second-hand? ‘Hunting’, Alastor mutters. Little surprising. Lucifer tries to imagine him in an Elmer Fudd sort of get-up.
Thoughts keep gently swirling around in his mind as they usually do when he tries to go to sleep, but he keeps them to himself now instead of pestering Alastor. It’s a little strange, falling asleep wrapped up in someone again. Lucifer almost laughs when Alastor snores. It’s a tiny sound, and as long as the guy doesn’t rev up to chainsaw levels, he can live with it.
His happy little sigh ruffles Alastor’s hair, and he falls asleep.
It’s occasionally broken for a moment or two, as Alastor seems to alternate between clutching him close and pushing away from him in his sleep. At one point, Lucifer’s half-asleep brain decides the answer is to hold him close from behind, and that’s the last time he remembers waking up until a strong beam of sunlight hits his face.
He rolls over, throwing his arm out across the mattress. Blinking sleep from his eyes, Lucifer blearily looks around the room. He’s alone, but he can hear quiet music playing outside the room, and the sounds of Alastor at work in the kitchen.
As he sits up, Lucifer notices his clothing at the foot of the bed; clean and neatly-folded, with the little golden snake and apple pins set on top. Alastor must have gotten up hours ago. The clock on the night stand reads ten twenty-seven, and Lucifer feels a little bad for sleeping in while the guy’s been busy.
He gets dressed, fixing the pins in place at his collar, and makes use of Alastor’s bathroom, where the sight of his borrowed toothbrush next to Alastor’s makes him smile. It just feels nice, knowing that he’s already taking up space in Alastor’s life in some small way.
“Morning, sunshine!” he says cheerfully as he enters the kitchen. “Thanks for washing my clothes.”
Alastor turns away from the stove to greet him with a bright smile.
“Good morning, darling,” he replies, beckoning Lucifer over with an open arm.
Lucifer takes Alastor by the waist and pulls him in, leaning up to share a kiss. Over a white button-up and dark brown slacks, Alastor is wearing a full apron in faded pink gingham, embroidered with tiny blue flowers at the bottom. Almost certainly something a relative had owned, or even made.
“You’re looking very domestic,” Lucifer smiles, and untwists the strap at Alastor’s shoulder. “What’s cookin’, good-lookin’?”
As Lucifer prepares his own coffee with plenty of milk and sugar, Alastor serves them both plates of grits topped with sliced boudin sausage in a mixture of sauteed bell pepper, onion, celery and tomato. It’s a simple preparation, but it’s easily the best meal Lucifer has had in a while.
Alastor tells him that his mother had taught him to cook from a young age, and that together they had gone through just about every recipe in the old tin his great-grandmother had left them. He says that while he’s not typically a big fan of sweets, one of his favorites is an old, handwritten card for pain perdu. Lucifer loves french toast, and Alastor agrees when he suggests making it together sometime.
“Can I help?,” Lucifer offers when Alastor gathers up their dishes and brings them to the sink.
“A guest cleaning up my mess? I don’t think so,” Alastor declines with a kiss to Lucifer’s cheek. “That’s ‘third date stuff’, I’m afraid.”
The noise of the loudly-running tap and cookware clattering together necessitates a break in conversation, and Lucifer wanders into the living room to wait.
The music that’s been quietly playing in the background is coming from one of the antique radios that Alastor had restored. Jazz, of course. Lucifer wonders if it’s the station that Alastor hosts his show on. It’s coming through fairly strong, but the sound is still filled with a fair amount of noise that must be due to the radio itself rather than the signal.
It’s probably about time he checked in with Charlie; she’d wanted to hear about how it went, though she might already have an idea since he’s only now contacting her the morning after. He hadn’t thought to ask if Alastor had spoken to her yet.
He approaches the charging dock on the little end table by the sofa, and picks up his phone. It’s already unplugged. Shit, had the cable been loose? The battery is at eleven percent, which should at least be enough to send off a quick text.
When he turns off ‘do not disturb’, he’s met with a surprising number of texts, plus a couple of missed calls and voicemails. What the hell? A spike of anxiety runs through him as he opens his texts.
There are several from Charlie, and a few from an unknown number. He immediately scrolls through to the earliest to piece things together.
Char-Char: Hey! Anthony says he hasn’t seen you yet. Running late? (8:35PM)
Char-Char: Are you lost? I went ahead and gave him your number. (9: 03PM)
Anthony? Lucifer swaps over to check the texts from the unknown number.
Unknown: lucifer? hey this is anthony charlies friend. cum on already u r missin out!!! (9:14PM)
Under the text is a photo of someone he’s never seen before: a beautiful young man with pale skin and fluffy hair that’s been dyed white, wearing a low-cropped v-neck and dark eyeliner, winking at the camera.
Unknown: u there???? charlies gettin worried. i been keepin an eye out for u outside (10:11PM)
Another photo of this Anthony guy standing outside of a club, making an exaggerated confused-looking face. There’s a poster on the window behind him reading “The Hole in the Wall”, advertising itself as an inclusive gay bar.
Unknown: charlie told me u might not b doin so hot. maybe later huh?? good luck king (12:26AM)
As Lucifer tries to wrap his head around this, there’s a sensation in his stomach not unlike when an elevator comes to a stop. This was the man he was supposed to have met last night. This was his blind date. Not Alastor.
Lucifer leans heavily against the wall as he goes back to check some of Charlie’s more recent texts.
Char-Char: Dad, come on. Did you get cold feet?? (11: 34PM)
Char-Char: Are you in one of those moods where you don’t want to talk? I’ll come over in the morning, OK? Love you. (12:23AM)
Char-Char: PLEASE call me!! Someone calling themselves Alastor texted me, saying you’re with them. Are they a new friend you didn’t tell me about? They said you’ve had your phone turned off. Are you OK?? (9:49AM)
Alastor had lied to him. He’d pretended to know his daughter, gone through his phone to get her number and lied to her. She and her friend had been worried for Lucifer while he’d gone along having a hell of an evening, none the wiser.
He looks up at the sound of footsteps, and there’s the man himself, paused mid-stride at the sight of Lucifer with his phone in hand. For a moment they just stare at each other, and all Lucifer can think to say is,
“What the fuck?”
Alastor stands up straight and crosses his arms, giving him a tense smile.
“Cat’s out of the bag, I see! I’d hoped to have a bit more time to bring it up…”
“Oh, yeah? That why my phone is almost dead? Sorry, is this inconvenient for you?”
“Lucifer—“
“Sit down, now.”
Alastor seems to bristle at being ordered around in his own home, but he grudgingly obeys, and sits on the sofa with both his arms and legs crossed. Closed off. Defensive.
“So, what...what is this, some really weird kidnapping thing?” Lucifer asks, cursing when his phone finally does run out of battery, and goes to plug it in—for real, this time.
“I think it’s more of a convoluted hostage situation, if anything,” Alastor replies, and he has the audacity to look mildly amused. “Not that I’m trying to prevent you from leaving. I only...wanted to delay the inevitable, I suppose.”
And Lucifer himself had helped with that by keeping his phone silenced all night. He’d even handed the thing over to Alastor and let him dismiss the notifications he’d gotten. He’s such an idiot.
“I just...I don’t…,” Lucifer struggles to think of what to say, too overwhelmed by the sheer amount of confusion and sense of betrayal. “Why? Why would you lie to a stranger about who you were!?”
“I didn’t. Not once. I just neglected to correct your assumptions,” Alastor pauses to chuckle a bit. “You’re surprisingly naive for a man your age, you know. But I’d say it worked out in our favor—especially if we can get past this.”
Naive? ‘Get past this’, like it’s just a big misunderstanding? The gall this guy has is astounding.
“You’re right, I should’ve been fully prepared for the possibility that a creepy opportunist would take advantage of the chance to take me home and fuck me!”
Lucifer runs his hands through his hair, forcing himself to calm down to avoid yelling again. Alastor looks stunned at first, then angry, as if Lucifer didn’t have every reason to be suspicious of him now.
“That was never my intention when we met,” Alastor clenches his fists on his knees, like he’s trying to force himself not to stand. “I only...wanted you to stay. And then I kept wanting you to.”
There’s a pang in Lucifer’s chest at the hint that Alastor could’ve possibly felt anything like he had upon seeing him for the first time. Alastor had mesmerized him, drawn him in with his quirky personality and sense of humor. He may have lied by omission about who he was meant to be, but Lucifer would like to believe that he had at least been forthright about everything else.
“Do you regret it?” Alastor asks plainly.
Lucifer opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s pissed that Alastor had been manipulative, angry at himself for having gotten his hopes up. Last night—hell, this very morning—had been the happiest he’s been in a very long time. They’d enjoyed each other’s company, had fun, had chemistry. To have it tainted like this all of a sudden…
“Find a ride for me,” Lucifer tells him.
Alastor says nothing, and Lucifer goes back to his bedroom to find his shoes. When he returns, he mutely acknowledges that his ride is five minutes away. He doesn’t look at Alastor as he takes the lapel pins from his collar and carefully places them on the coffee table before collecting his phone, wallet and keys.
“Be sure to return those to Rosie,” Lucifer says. “She’s a hell of a friend, huh? Lying for you on the fly like that.”
When he opens to front door to go wait outside, Alastor finally stands and hurries over, reaching out to hold onto the door like Lucifer had been planning on slamming it behind him.
“Lucifer, I...I’m…,” Alastor doesn’t really seem to know what he is.
“...Do you regret it?” Lucifer asks him.
This close, he can see how shallow Alastor’s breath is, the redness rising in his cheeks. Alastor’s eyes flicker across his face, much like they had when they’d first met.
“No. I don’t.”
Lucifer’s ride pulls up in front of the house. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, and turns away, narrowly evading Alastor’s fingers grasping at his sleeve. He gets into the car, tells the driver the rough estimate of where his own car is parked, and watches Alastor in the rear view mirror until he’s out of sight.
He deletes his number.
.
.
.
There’s an odd, internal shift in Lucifer when he finally steps into his dingy apartment, like a glamour falling away. It’s dark, cluttered, and lonely compared to the cozy little home he’d just returned from. Last night feels almost like a dream—and this morning had been his wake-up call. Maybe he had been naive, maybe there were one or two red flags he’d missed.
But...nobody’s perfect. People make mistakes, and maybe Alastor deserves a real chance to explain himself?
Lucifer can’t be sure whether that’s the little Angel or the Devil on his shoulder speaking. He tries to reassure himself that he’d been right to delete Alastor’s number; without it, he’ll have a better chance of giving himself time to process.
Having the rug pulled out from under him has left Lucifer feeling unbalanced and tense. It’s pure, cruel irony that it’s impossible to shake the feeling that Alastor’s company would be pretty damn comforting right now, had he not been the cause of his distress in the first place.
He calls Charlie. But the last thing he wants is to worry her further, can’t stomach the prospect of hearing whatever pity or righteous anger the story might inspire in his daughter. It’s plenty believable if he shoulders the blame for this one.
So he backs up Alastor’s lie.
Says yes, he’d changed his mind and went to drown his sorrows with a friend instead. Says that he’d given him her number as an emergency contact—can’t be too careful, right?
He apologizes to her, for being careless and causing her concern. He’ll do better. He’ll be fine, he tells Charlie. It had just been one of those nights. No need to come over and coddle him, he’ll see her and Vaggie at dinner tomorrow. And because it’s only polite, he apologizes to Anthony, and informs him that he’s not interested in rescheduling.
Nothing to do now but try and put the whole ordeal out of his mind. Settle back into routine.
Lucifer spends the rest of the day alternating between replying to emails, catching up on laundry, and staring into space. He keeps his phone close—just in case Charlie wants to check in, he tells himself. Maybe he’ll text Ozzie, see what’s new. It’s been a few months.
By nightfall, not a single unknown call or text has come through.
It’s pathetic, how disappointed he feels.