Chapter Text
The free snacks were probably Alastor’s favorite perk when it came to defending the hotel from would-be interlopers. Even better, they came directly to him rather than him having to hunt them down himself! One would think watching him eat several Sinners alive would be a deterrent, but no! Apparently they assumed they were all “built different” until he dropped them, usually screaming and pleading, into his maw.
He was about to shrink down again from his “kaiju form” as Angel Dust so eloquently put it, only to pause as his stomach rumbled ominously. He barely had time to register there was a problem before his insides rebelled and he found himself retching. The Sinner he’d just swallowed down tumbled to the ground, his distance halved by Alastor hunching over as he vomited. He landed with a wet splat, in a puddle of bile, the ends of his clothes sizzling from his potent stomach acid.
Alastor and the man made eye contact as he shoved himself upright into a seated position, drenched to the bone and scowling. “What the fuck, man?”
“…my sincerest apologies,” Alastor answered reflexively, feeling wildly out of sorts.
This had never happened before.
He was still processing the strange turn of events when the man scrambled to his feet and hurried down the hill the hotel sat atop. Apparently he wasn’t interested in seeing if the Radio Demon would try to eat him a second time.
Once he was at the bottom of the hill, Alastor shrank back down to his usual size, his brow furrowing. He hadn’t been hungry that morning and had, uncharacteristically, skipped breakfast. Now his lunch had vacated the premises too.
If he stopped to think about it, he had been feeling a bit…different. More tired than usual and less hungry. And now with this on top of it all? There was only one explanation, much to his dismay.
The powerful and terrifying Radio Demon had fallen ill.
A soft knock on the bedroom door roused Alastor several hours later and he lifted his sleep mask, blinking owlishly as Lucifer drew up to their shared bed. While the two of them still maintained separate suites at the hotel (it was a bit too early in their relationship for full cohabitation), they slept together more often than not in Lucifer’s rooms.
Alastor found himself there after attempting to shadow travel to his own. Rather than fight against his subconscious, he’d snapped himself into his pajamas and curled up in the fallen angel’s absurdly soft bed. The lingering scent of apples had thankfully not further upset his stomach and he’d drifted off nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.
“You feeling all right?” Lucifer asked, brow pinched as he studied his face.
“A bit under the weather,” Alastor reluctantly admitted.
Lucifer’s expression softened. “Yeah? So you decided to infect me too?” he teased.
“Hmm, not a bad idea! Are you even capable of becoming ill?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so? Never have before, anyway. Aside from the depression, I mean.”
Alastor made a noncommittal noise as he sank more deeply into the warm, fluffy comforter. It reminded him a bit of being surrounded by Lucifer’s wings, on the rare occasion he brought them out.
“Charlie was worried when you didn’t come down to dinner.”
“Rather early for dinner, isn’t it?” he prompted with a wide yawn.
“It’s nine p.m.”
“Not funny, my dear,” he said as his eyes slid closed.
“I’m not joking, Al.”
Alastor consulted his internal clock, jerking upright when it confirmed Lucifer’s claim.
“Whoa,” he protested, gently resting a hand on Alastor’s shoulder.
He narrowed his eyes back at him. “Did you just ‘whoa’ me? Do I look like a horse to you?”
“What?” Lucifer asked, looking remarkably like a deer in headlights. “No? You look like a deer?”
His eyes were mere slits now. “And yet you ‘whoaed’ me. If you want to keep your hand, I suggest you remove it from my person.”
He immediately yanked it back and Alastor was alarmed to find he did not, in fact, want him to remove it.
“Yeesh, I wouldn’t have woken you up if I’d known you’d be this cranky. Sorry. I’ll let you get some more sleep.”
Alastor struck out with his hand, catching his wrist before he could step or portal away. Lucifer froze, giving a pathetic little ‘meep’.
Alastor yanked him down onto the bed, wrapping his arms and shadow tentacles tightly around him and burying his face in his hair. Lucifer held perfectly still, seeming afraid to so much as breathe.
“…you want me to stay…?” he hazarded, wisely not trying to escape.
Alastor made a noncommittal sound in answer, already drifting off again, the fresh scent of apples calming his sudden burst of irritation.
Lucifer’s phone buzzed, rousing him from his impromptu nap. Alastor was so tightly wound around him that he had to use his powers to summon his phone from his pocket, squinting at the sudden brightness of the screen in the otherwise dark room.
It was a text from Charlie.
Was everything okay? He wasn’t sure, to be honest. He and Alastor had only been ‘going steady’ for a few weeks now and he hadn’t known him for long prior to that. The unpredictable way he was acting reminded him more of how he’d been during his rut than anything else.
Surely he wasn’t going into rut again? Lucifer cautiously scented the air with his tongue, relieved to find that didn’t seem to be the case. But Alastor didn’t smell sick either. Maybe he was just tired from all the work he’d been doing around the hotel lately?
His phone buzzed again with Charlie’s reply.
He blanched at the mental image that brought forth. Was there a bile soaked Sinner corpse laying under the bushes right now?
No, that’d be ridiculous. Alastor usually ate them alive.
Hopefully the deer would be hungry enough to eat without too much of a fuss over what would undoubtedly be canned chicken noodle and saltines.
Lucifer opened up his latest mobile game obsession, a merging one Angel suggested. Well, sort of. The version Angel suggested was made up of dicks of all sizes, shapes, and colors. Lucifer wasn’t interested in his phone being banished to Alastor’s purported “Realm of Shadows,” so he’d paid for the SFW skin featuring various weapons instead.
Eventually a light knock came at the door and he used his powers to open it. He expected Charlie, but it was Husk who walked in. He paused inside the doorway to the bedroom, leaving the two of them staring awkwardly back at one another.
Alastor didn’t so much as stir, which was incredibly unusual for him. If Lucifer couldn’t feel his heart beating against his back and his breath ruffling his hair, he might’ve worried he’d double died.
“Where d’you want this?” Husk prompted, holding up the covered tray.
Lucifer wiggled his pinky, making a small dining table appear beside the cat demon. Husk set the tray down before crossing his arms and studying him. “Need some help?”
“…can you actually get him to let go of me?”
He shrugged. “I can try. Pretty sure your face is startin’ to turn blue.”
Lucifer managed a hoarse laugh. “…yeah, maybe.”
“You give him somethin’ to knock him out?” Husk asked as he approached the bed.
“No. I don’t think he took anything either.”
“I’ve caught him dozin’ off here an’ there lately. He fell asleep down at the bar the other day.”
Lucifer’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I thought it was weird as fuck too.” His words were accompanied by a soft tapping against the wall.
A moment later, Alastor shifted behind Lucifer with a soft bleat of protest that may have made his heart expand three sizes in his chest.
“Husker?” Alastor prompted, voice thick with sleep and his natural accent.
“You’re suffocatin’ the king.”
“…what?” He moved again, slowly unwinding his tentacles and then his limbs from around Lucifer. The devil was left with the sensation of pins and needles in their wake.
Alastor eased himself upright, helping Lucifer do the same while he was still regaining feeling across his numb body. Husk looped back around to face them, gesturing to the table. “Brought ya up some soup an’ crackers. And some ginger tea.”
Alastor wrinkled his nose. “No, thank you.”
“You really should eat something,” Lucifer protested. “You haven’t eaten all day, have you?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Lucifer and Husk shared a look.
“At least try the tea,” Husk said, picking up his Oh Deer mug and carrying it over.
Alastor huffed as he accepted it, reluctantly taking a sip and grimacing. “It’s missing something.”
Husk arched a brow. “Like?”
He tapped the tips of his claws against the ceramic as he considered the question.
“Honey?” Lucifer offered.
“The Boss don’t do swee—“
“Precisely!” Alastor answered.
Lucifer nodded as he conjured up one of those cute little honey bears and handed it over. Husk watched Alastor with something like morbid fascination as he squeezed what looked like half the bear’s contents into his cup.
He sipped at it with a soft, contented sigh. “Perfect.”
Husk shot Lucifer another look, trying and failing to telepathically communicate with him. He thought he may have gotten the gist of it though. This was Weird with a capital W.
How could something so innocuous be so unsettling when it came to the deer demon? They should be balking at the whole eating-someone-whole thing, not at overly sweetened tea.
“Need anything else while I’m here?” Husk hazarded after a long moment.
“Is Charlie still up?” Lucifer asked.
He shook his head. “Vaggie dragged her off to bed as soon as she finished makin’ the soup.”
He tried not to deflate at that. There was always tomorrow, after all. And it was probably better he stayed here with Alastor for now. He sincerely doubted the Radio Demon would allow anyone else to coddle him without removing a limb or two.
“Thanks, Husk,” Lucifer said with a nod.
He nodded back before slipping out of the room.
Alastor polished off the rest of his tea, extending his long tongue to reach the honey that settled in the bottom of the cup.
“Please try the soup, Al?” Lucifer wheedled.
He got an annoyed look for his trouble, though it was far less intimidating than usual given his eyelids were already drooping again. He reached up to press a hand to Alastor’s forehead, but he didn’t seem any warmer than usual.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking to see if you have a fever.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a child, my dear.”
“Still, you said you weren’t feeling good.”
He shrugged as he used his powers to return the mug to the table and burrowed back down into the covers. This time he rested his head in Lucifer’s lap, much to his surprise.
The only time he ever did that was when he wanted ear skritches. Lucifer smiled softly as he rubbed the base of one of his ears. Alastor’s arms wound around his waist as he relaxed into him. He buried his face into Lucifer’s shirt before snatches of music began to drift through the air around them, indicating he’d already fallen into a deep sleep.
Valuing his life and limbs, he continued to gently pet his ears and run his claws through the deer demon’s hair. He just hoped Alastor wasn’t accidentally smothering himself in the process of whatever this newfound clinginess was.
Judging by the damp patch forming where his mouth was pressed, Lucifer was fairly confident he wasn’t.
His stroking grew more sporadic as sleep tugged at him. Eventually his hand came to a stop on the top of Alastor’s head as his eyes slid closed and he slumped back against the headboard.
The next morning found Alastor rooting through the pantry and the refrigerator, considering and then rejecting his usual breakfast fare. Eggs, sausage, meat, Sinner… None of it appealed at present despite the fact he was actually hungry now. Even coffee wasn’t calling to him.
He was fairly certain he’d had at least one cup every day since he was a child.
He felt better though, but maybe it was one of those illnesses that temporarily impacted one’s palette? If it continued, he might actually consider going to see a doctor.
Lucifer had walked down with him that morning, having gone to bed earlier than usual and therefore having risen earlier than usual. He’d had no such issues with deciding what to eat, already having made a truly absurd number of pancakes.
Alastor was on his way back to the pantry for a third time when Lucifer intercepted him, handing him a mug of coffee. Alastor’s nose twitched and he brought it to his lips, taking a sip. It was as good as the tea last night had been, though it wasn’t black.
Lucifer, meanwhile, sipped from his own and blanched. “Shit! I switched the mugs! I’m so sorry, Al, I—“ He fell silent as Alastor arched a brow, taking another drink. He blinked back at him. “Wait, did I not put anything in that one either?” He looked back to the coffee station, which he’d yet to put back to rights and then to Alastor’s mug again.
“Don’t worry, my dear, this is sufficient for now,” Alastor said, deciding to give up for the moment on his pursuit of breakfast in favor of enjoying his coffee.
“…what? The one time you drank out of my mug on accident, you said ‘now I understand why you are the king of Hell.’ You said you would’ve tossed me out of Heaven for my coffee sins alone.”
“Hmm? Well, perhaps I was too hasty in my assessment.”
“…are you feeling okay?” he hazarded. “…even Charlie says I take my coffee too sweet.”
Alastor shrugged, gaze drifting toward the pile of pancakes. Lucifer turned his head along with him, blanching when he saw what he was looking at. He summoned a plate and four of the pancakes to his place at the table, brow furrowing as he considered them. A moment later, he held a glass bottle of maple syrup in hand and he tipped it over the pancakes, watching as they greedily soaked it all up.
“…Al…?”
“Yes?” he asked, cutting a dainty portion with his fork.
Lucifer actually tried to lunge toward him to intercept the bite on its way to his mouth. Alastor wrapped his lips around it, chewing and sighing contentedly. Yes. This was exactly what he wanted for breakfast.
“…are you…fucking with me right now?” Lucifer hazarded. “Are you just pretending to eat and drink all that?”
“What an odd way to react to someone appreciating your cooking.”
“You hate sweet things!”
“Hate is a strong word.”
“You said that if you were locked in a room with only my pancakes to eat, you’d starve to a second death before you ‘ingested a single one of my sickeningly sweet abominations.’”
Alastor shot him a look as he took a bigger bite out of spite.
Their argument was cut short when Vaggie, Charlie, Angel, and Husk wandered in, all four of them freezing in place with their eyes on Alastor’s plate.
He was becoming increasingly tempted to unhinge his jaw and devour the whole thing, plate and all.
The shadows began to loom around them, his eyes ticking into radio dials. “It is rude to stare,” he growled, ears tilting back as he glowered at them.
They kept staring.
Alastor set his jaw. He didn’t have to put up with these ill mannered boors. He collapsed into shadows, snatching up both mugs of coffee as well as the rest of the pancake and the syrup with his tentacles and reformed to eat in peace at the little table in his suite.
He felt a good deal better than he had the day before, albeit still tired. Hopefully that meant whatever this was would be out of his system soon enough. For now he fought back the exhaustion by spiriting away every mug of coffee Lucifer made that morning, both out of spite and because he found himself craving it the way Lucifer made it.
When everyone continued to stare at him whenever he was in a common area, he decided to take a little stroll around the city. Wanton slaughter always made him feel better. And if he intended to imagine the faces of certain colleagues on the hapless Sinners he ripped apart? Well, that was his prerogative.
Alastor leisurely made his way down the street, absently twirling his microphone. Sinners, appropriately, immediately fled or looked elsewhere upon spotting him and his mood was quickly improving. He’d even stopped into a delightful new shop to purchase some of the gourmet candied apples and chocolate they had on display.
And then he caught sight of a certain rectangular headed individual and it abruptly soured.
“Hey there, old pal,” Vox offered as he strolled up to him from where he’d materialized across the street. “How’s that royal dick treating you? You two are an item now, aren’t you?”
His eyes narrowed and his smile tightened into a near grimace. “I fail to see how my personal life is any of your business.” He paused to examine the tips of his claws. “Although I must admit, it’s quite refreshing to be with a man who knows what he’s doing!”
Vox gaped at him but rather than glitching, his screen briefly froze. He looked ridiculous, his face trapped between two expressions. Alastor doubled over with laughter, having to support himself with his microphone to remain upright.
Vox managed to unstick himself, his left eye swirling as electricity ominously crackled in the air around them.
“Fuck you!” he snarled, voice garbled at the end as he shot a burst of lightning at him.
Alastor dabbed at his eyes with a conjured handkerchief, using his microphone to redirect the blast. “No, thank you,” he tittered. “Did I not just give you a failing grade on your prior performance? I would suggest you get your ears checked, but you don’t have any!“
He absently tapped his chin as if he was seriously considering the conundrum. “Perhaps it’s dust? I’ve heard cheap electronics are particularly sensitive to it. You could always ask Velvette to blow it out with one of her hair dryers.”
“You wouldn’t use a hair dryer, you old timey fuck! You’d use compressed—“ Vox cut himself off with a snarl. You wouldn’t know good sex if it fucked you in the ass!”
Alastor’s eye twitched. “Vulgar, as always. I’d suggest you request some lessons from that degenerate moth of yours, but I doubt he’s much better given his equally low standards in choosing you as a regular bedfellow.”
Vox’s face glitched with barely restrained rage and he zapped himself up into a streetlight overhead before rematerializing right in front of him. Alastor used his microphone to push him back out of his personal space and he staggered, pinwheeling his arms as he stepped awkwardly off the curb.
It was such a shame a vehicle hadn’t materialized in that moment to run him over.
The television demon lunged forward, his hands sparking. Alastor dissolved in and out of his shadows as the buffoon, too worked up, ineffectually swiped at the air always a few seconds too late.
Really, it wasn’t even a challenge to set him off!
They nearly made it to the end of the block when the world suddenly lurched around him and Alastor staggered. He was a beat too late and had to duck to avoid Vox’s next lunge, lest he be electrocuted otherwise. And then the strangest thing happened.
He lost his balance.
Trying to course correct left him even more disoriented and Alastor fell, failing to catch himself and winding up flat on his back, only narrowly managing not to hit his head in the process.
He wasn’t sure which of the two of them was more startled by this unexpected development. Vox froze and they stared back at each other in mutual confusion.
“What the fuck was that?” he demanded after a beat.
Alastor pushed himself up into a sitting position. Though he was firmly seated on the ground, his stomach lurched like he was on a merry-go-round instead. He longed to lay back down until the sensation passed. Unfortunately he doubted Vox would grant him a timeout.
Maybe he hadn’t recovered as much as he’d thought. He would need to finish this quickly.
He called upon his shadows, using them to get back to his feet, only for another wave of dizziness to hit him. All he had to do was put some distance between them and then he could stay put while using his powers to put the idiot in his place.
Sensing blood in the water, Vox took advantage of his dulled reflexes, immediately appearing behind him. Alastor’s eyes widened as electricity arced through him, locking his muscles in place. He barely had time to register the pain before Vox slammed into him, sending him flying.
His attempt to catch himself was a complete and utter failure and Alastor was sent tumbling across the street, slamming into the wall of one of the deserted businesses lining it.
This was not good, but he would be doubly damned before he allowed an illness to enfeeble him enough for Vox to take him out.
He was still trying to get his bearings when Vox appeared again beside him, grabbing him by his coat and hauling him into the air.
“You don’t look so hot, Al,” he said, grinning now. “Why don’t I take you back to Vee Tower so we can get you looked at? Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”
He paused when something slipped from inside Alastor’s coat and plopped onto the sidewalk below. Vox glanced down and sneered. “Caramel apples? You don’t even like sweet shit.”
Alastor caught the hopelessly damaged packaging out of the corner of his eye and saw red.
One moment he was dangling in the air in Vox’s grip, and the next the tv demon lay in a crumpled heap at his feet. Alastor panted for breath, belatedly realizing he was holding his microphone like a baseball bat and its long handle was bent out of shape from the force of his assault on Vox.
The fool had enough common sense to teleport away before he could get in another blow, leaving Alastor swaying on his feet. He took a small step toward his ruined package before sinking heavily to the ground, a lump forming in his throat.
He tentatively picked it up and opened the box, only to be greeted by a mess of apple, caramel, chocolate, and road grit. His vision swam and his hands began to shake.
“Al?!” a worried voice shouted from nearby.
He didn’t answer, breath hitching as something warm and wet slid down his cheeks.
“Are you hurt?! What happened?!” the voice demanded. And then Lucifer was in front of him, gently cradling his face, eyes wide. “Shit. Shit. Are you okay?!”
He gave as much of a shake of his head as the position allowed.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”
He opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a low whine. He held the damaged package out as he wept.
“What…? Wait, was this for me?”
“N-No! It was for me and that s-son of a bitch ruined it!”
Lucifer had the gall to stare at him like an idiot. “What?”
“I’ll fucking kill him!” He immediately tried to climb to his feet, clutching the box to his chest.
He wasn’t any steadier, but Lucifer caught him before he could slump back to the ground. And then, with his partner’s arms around him, something in Alastor broke and he sagged into the shorter man’s hold, burying his face into his shoulder as he sobbed uncontrollably.