Chapter Text
Hell had a kind of bizarre normalcy about it, once one became accustomed to damnation. There were more struggles than on Earth, sure. But they were all still the same ones. Just intensified to infinity and left to run rampant with no laws and no justice—except that dished out by the occasional vigilante—to halt them. Damnation was drudgery more than chaos, as even the most bizarre and horrifying situations became mundane.
So trying to find a new normal in the rare few cases where something was irrevocably changed was a challenge. And for Alastor and Lucifer, so much had changed.
“Hey.” Lucifer said softly, his wings carrying him up to the hotel roof where he lightly stepped onto the edge.
Alastor was sitting on the concrete, arms crossed against his folded legs, awkwardly around his swollen stomach. Month five now. He was still much too skinny, but the pregnancy was starting to properly show. Thankfully, the hotel’s new wards prevented anyone outside from looking in. All they’d see if they tried was a blank projection of the building that’d split their head open with a migraine if they stared too long. It was a safety measure further than Charlie had approved, but what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and nothing else would hurt any of them either, so long as Lucifer stayed on his toes.
Moving cautiously, almost on the tips of his feet, Lucifer approached and eased himself down next to Alastor.
“I didn’t expect to find you here of all places.” He added, unsure if he should mention the unspoken reason why, or simply keep ignoring the elephant in the room. There were plenty of things they ignored and pretended not to see, or pretended to have already put behind them.
Alastor only shrugged.
“I needed air.”
“Right.”
Lucifer hesitated, still struggling to gauge the demon’s mood. Even now after everything, he still struggled to read him. Alastor’s behaviour and coping methods were so completely different from Lucifer's. If it had been Lucifer, he’d never set foot on this roof again. But he was avoidant, and Alastor… Alastor confronted his issues. Usually with teeth and claws, but confronted them nonetheless.
Alastor turned to look at Lucifer, furrowing his brows and smiling like it was an afterthought. As if pretending the idea he was about to act on had suddenly struck him, and that it wasn’t something he’d been building courage to do since the confession.
“Put your wings up.” Lucifer made a questioning noise, but did as asked. “Now put your hands on my hips.”
He hesitated. They’d been officially seeing each other since the sin meeting, but nothing had really changed except wording. When everything else had been turned upside down, their relationship was a secure constant that both were hesitant to upend. Regardless of how much they might stand to gain. Lucifer didn’t want to push too fast even with expressed permission, and Alastor didn’t know the steps to this dance.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Nodding once, shallowly, Lucifer moved his hands to rest lightly against the top of Alastor’s very prominent hipbones through his trousers. He really was too skinny. Lucifer had thought he’d be giddy once Alastor finally began inviting touch out of more than panic, but instead he only felt anxiety. Concern in heart and soul. Like he was holding a butterfly and even a touch too much could break something irreparable. But at the same time, telling Alastor that would only set his shields rearing up and his spikes coming out. He wasn’t used to tenderness.
Not that this felt particularly tender. Strangely enough, the embrace felt anything but. More like a challenge than the quietly loving shows of support they’d shared before to bring them through the distress.
Alastor scoffed.
“You can hold tighter. I’m sturdy.”
Lucifer’s wings drooped slightly.
“I don’t want to trigger bad memories.”
“You’re supposed to.”
Alastor’s expression was so severe, and his phrasing so blunt, that Lucifer froze and struggled to comprehend it in its simplicity. He began withdrawing his hands on instinct, discomfort welling up at the very idea, only for Alastor’s hands to trap his against his sides and hold them there. The demon closed his eyes, breathing with deliberate carefulness, and guiding Lucifer’s hands to just barely sneak under the back of his shirt and graze against his protruding spine. It felt wrong, despite the touch being right, and Alastor shivered, jolting with a sharp gasp and digging claws into the back of Lucifer’s hands. But he didn’t release.
“… What are we doing?” Lucifer asked gently.
“Rewiring.” Alastor answered bluntly with closed eyes, breathing mechanically.
Rewiring the reactions. Overwriting the memories.
“I’m not sure that’s healthy.”
“Well, you're not a doctor, and the one you got me doesn’t exactly seem intent on offering help beyond the physical.”
“She’s got pills?” Lucifer offered feebly, and Alastor scoffed.
“Shut up and just-…” He grumbled in agitation, before tilting his head so his large fluffy ears flopped to the side. He grimaced, leaning in towards Lucifer, but paused a breath away. A breath away, stealing Lucifer’s breath away. He blinked and gritted his teeth through his smile, as if unsure what to do next.
“I…” Lucifer breathed, feeling the hot air mingling between their lips. Alastor’s grimace tightened, his face reddened, and he hissed to himself as his ears folded back.
“You do it.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t be an idiot! Just-!”’
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Lucifer nodded. He moved slowly, closing the distance carefully. It had been so long since he’d done this. With Lilith, physical intimacy had once been second-nature. But as their relationship had become more and more strained, it had gotten to the point where leaning in for a kiss made him feel foolish. Even if she never outright rejected him. It was more like the rules had changed and everyone was too polite to tell him, despite it being glaringly obvious he played the game wrong. But kissing was something you never quite forgot how to do right.
And this time it felt right.
Alastor’s lips were cold, and rough from him chewing at them anxiously with sharpened teeth. Very faintly, Lucifer could taste the metallic tang of blood. But not deep or overpowering. More like a scent or a memory than a tangible tang.
He pulled back before he could taste more, withdrawing hands and lips, leaving Alastor blinking. Staring blankly. Almost… Indignantly.
“That’s it?” He squeaked, gasping incredulously. Almost like a scoff.
Lucifer let nothing on, just looking tenderly into those sharp red eyes that glared back almost in offense.
“All that anxiety for that? Harder. Kiss me properly.” Alastor demanded, moving over to chase Lucifer’s mouth as he withdrew. He put his hands back atop Lucifer’s, pinning them down against the concrete, as he leaned in over him like a stalking cat. Close enough that Lucifer’s knees brushed Alastor’s stomach. “Do it for real.”
“That was real. Being gentle doesn’t mean it’s not real.” Lucifer answered. But that answer only seemed to incense Alastor further. He growled, and grabbed the front of Lucifer’s dress-shirt in a fist.
“Well it wasn’t real enough, so do it harder.”
Lucifer faltered, but obliged. He raised his hands over to Alastor's face, holding his cheeks between them, as he pressed their lips together more firmly this time. Tasting the blood and desperation on the other’s breath.
“You can do better.” Alastor growled, teeth almost meeting Lucifer’s, and as much as a part of him was turned on by the forwardness the better part held him back.
“I can be rougher, sure, but that’s not necessarily better.” He mumbled in return, rebelliously angling his lips away to instead nuzzle their foreheads together.
Alastor shoved, so hard and sudden that Lucifer’s wings flared to catch his balance and brace himself against the rough texture of the roof.
“Fine, not better then, I don’t care if it’s better, I don’t even need it to be good!” Alastor’s voice rose as he moved on top of Lucifer and yanked him up by the collar. “I just need you to be rougher, because it’s not enough!”
“Enough to what?” Lucifer finally demanded, despite knowing the answer, putting a hand up against Alastor’s chest to stop him in his tracks. “Fuck, what exactly do you hope to accomplish by picking at the wound?”
Alastor swallowed hard, entire body going rigid.
What was he hoping to accomplish?
To erase Adam’s touch from his skin. To make Lucifer be rougher, hold harder, kiss more fiercely, so that Adam wouldn’t forever be the extreme of what Alastor had endured. The soft and loving care wasn’t enough to rub out the touch memories of hands that had handled him so viciously. He wanted Lucifer to hold him hard enough to bruise, to bite his lips with teeth sharp enough to rip them open, to do anything necessary to make Adam’s touches feel small and insignificant in comparison.
He wanted that.
But at the same time the tenderly worried everything that was Lucifer—the furrowed brows, the warm fiery red eyes, and the careful touch of claws that felt more like a soothing comb—was so different to Adam that it felt nauseating to even imagine him playing the same role. Even if only to act a part.
But with Lucifer, Alastor had control.
He just wanted his control back.
The second his mind finished processing, Alastor’s stomach revolted. He scrambled back and folded in on himself, grasping one shaking hand in the other, holding them in a cramping grip as if that could stop the trembling as he looked down on the concrete that had once been stained in his own blood.
“I want you to be more than he was.” Alastor hissed faintly, voice unsteady and hoarse.
Lucifer’s stomach twisted at the softly pained statement, and he moved again, closing the distance back up and draping a wing over Alastor’s shoulder.
It was so messy. This back and forth. Taking turns pushing and pulling.
“More what?”
“More… Everything. Be more, so I don’t have to remember him.”
“… But your idea of ‘more’ hurts.” Alastor flinched into himself at Lucifer’s soft rebuttal, and Lucifer’s chest clenched. He turned by half, grabbing Alastor’s wrists to steady his hands and looking deep into his eyes. “You can’t erase a scar by cutting out more flesh. I can be more. More gentle. More loving. More protective…” He caressed Alastor's chin, and softly began to move his wings to stroke his back as had almost become tradition. “But not more like Adam. I can’t, I won’t, and you don’t want me to. Not really. Why would you ever want that?”
“Because with you at least I have a say in it.”
Lucifer faltered, mixed grief and tenderness welling up within him. It wasn’t that playing rough was a problem in itself. This was hell, plenty of people had masochistic streaks, and even those who didn’t sometimes wanted to go at it hard. Lilith had used to tease and challenge him when they’d still had some kind of a functioning sex life. The cat and mouse chase was exciting; the back and forth of never quite knowing what to expect.
But Alastor didn’t seem to be asking because he wanted it. Not really.
And any reason except wanting was the wrong reason.
“I love you.” Lucifer assured, putting his forehead back against Alastor’s and taking his hands. “But I’ll love you gently. At least until I know what's a game and not. Alright?”
“Alright.” Alastor croaked through his tightened throat, folding forward into Lucifer’s embrace, secure in the knowledge that nobody else could see or reach him.
Nobody except memories.
Throughout the next several weeks, they kept returning to the roof. Always at Alastor’s insistence. But he didn’t push again. They talked, enjoyed the view, hurled insults at Hell below, or sometimes simply… Cuddled.
Somewhere along the way, Alastor had stopped referring to the pregnancy as a thing, and started calling it…
Melody.
Just Melody.
A weapon. But he was a weapon too. He’d made himself into one. But now Lucifer was filing down the edges that pointed inwards, so maybe he could do the same for the baby. Once they arrived. Maybe Alastor could learn to live with that. With letting her be both.
She was part Adam, and he loathed that. But she was also part him. And he’d made sure the part that was him would be vicious enough to kill and bury the part that was Adam.
Figuratively and literally.
He’d take the kick that made his body lurch from inside as a shake on that deal.
It was so utterly bizarre, feeling something move inside his abdomen. Jolting and jostling this way and that. If she’d been still before, the abruption seemed to have woken her up. Because since Belphegor healed them both she’d started making herself known at all hours. Alastor put a hand atop his stomach as if to quiet the kicks—some deep instinct he’d never known he had—and touch the closest thing.
“She’s riled up today, huh?” Lucifer asked, setting down a basket at Alastor’s side and retaking his seat by him on the roof, like a winged gargoyle, keeping his usual steady watch in the usual steady place. They’d been there so often it was almost routine. Lucifer opened the basket, starting to pick out the contents.
“She’s getting ready to fight.” Alastor said with a chilly smile baring sharp teeth. “She’s learnt now; that she has to protect herself.”
Lucifer paused with two plates out of the basket and a conspicuously bloody and paper-wrapped package in his hands.
“You still haven’t told me who attacked you.”
“He’s no longer a threat.” Lucifer’s mouth flattened into a thin line, clearly about to start arguing the point yet again. Alastor headed him up before he could by pointing at the package and smiling innocently. “What did you bring me?”
“You’re impossible.” Lucifer huffed, shaking his head. But he conceded and set the package down on one of the plates regardless. It squelched invitingly, and Alastor perked up at the smell. “Brought you something from that cannibal friend of yours. Freak.”
“She stopped by? Do give Rosie my regards.” Alastor answered, already reaching for the packet to tear into the wrapping with a dangerous glint in his eyes and a shine of saliva between his teeth. He was a gentleman who followed proper table manners. Most of the time. But there was something so primally satisfying about tearing into flesh with his claws once in a while, and it had been much too long since he had uncooked meat thanks to Belphegor’s tedious ‘reccomendations’.
Lucifer grimaced at the display, but politely refrained from commenting. Instead withdrawing cheese, bread, and vegetables from the basket for himself. Huh. A proper picnic by the hellish sunset. Wasn’t that quaint?
Not that hell had sunsets.
“No, actually. I stopped by myself.” Lucifer said as he started cutting thick slices of the fresh bread, heedless to how Alastor had frozen beside him with a thick glob of bleeding muscle-tissue halfway to his mouth, blood and tendons hanging in strings from between his fingers.
“You… You went to cannibal town?” Alastor asked in a perplexed voice, setting the meat back down on his plate and looking at Lucifer incomprehensibly.
“Yeah. Nice place. At least nicer than I’d expected.” Lucifer continued with a shrug, not yet turning to take in Alastor’s expression. “Real Broadway vibes, and the lady was friendly. Reminded me of someone. Plenty of recommendations when I started asking about different types of meat. Honestly, too many recommendations. I’ve learnt way more about demon butchery today than I ever wanted to-”
“Lucifer.” Alastor said flatly, prompting Lucifer to stop rambling and look at him. To glance the quiet surprise and unspoken gratitude radiating off of him, alongside the nakedly vulnerable bewilderment. “You went to Cannibal Town and bought demon meat for me?”
“I told her it was for Belzebub, that she’s having ‘a phase’ with experimenting, so you don’t have to worry about anyone getting suspicious why you’d suddenly be so picky about cleanliness. It, uh, it should be ‘sashimi grade’—whatever that means—so should be safe-”
“Lu.”
Lucifer flinched, before turning slowly to face Alastor properly. To see the unspoken question on his face. He sighed and slumped, picking at a frayed end of the wicker basket.
“… You’re still so skinny. I just… I want you to be healthy.”
“Right. ‘Gestation requires extra calories’.” Alastor parroted, rolling his eyes.
“Not just that.” Lucifer added quickly. “I want you to be healthy for your own sake. I want you to be happy, and…”
There was a strange twinge of emotion in Alastor’s chest. One he wasn’t used to feeling, but had much more often these last few days than ever before. When he looked at Lucifer, and Lucifer looked back with that sappy puppy-love expression on his ancient face, it was as if Alastor’s stomach had bottomed out and went into freefall. But instead of hollow, it felt… A strange kind of good. One his initial instinct was to flee from, but that he found himself cautiously turning back to poke and prod, wanting to figure it out. Wanting to figure out if he loved it or hated it.
He opened his mouth but found himself unable to articulate any of those thoughts. So instead he simply scoffed, albeit a strangely soft kind, and averted his eyes. Hand landing atop Lucifer’s.
“I thought Belphegor said ‘no raw meat’?”
“Why are we in Hell, if not to break rules? And like I said, I tried to find the safest one for you.” Lucifer manifested his tail, using it to push the cutting board with the fresh bread over towards Alastor as he added with a fond smirk: “That being said, I wouldn’t protest if you wanted to eat something else too.”
“Bah.” Alastor rolled his eyes and picked the lump of meat he’d torn earlier back up. He finally let it fall into his teeth, long strings of blood forming between his jaws as he chewed messily. “I told you, I don’t need anything but meat.”
“But maybe she does.”
Alastor paused with another sliver of flesh halfway to his mouth, his claws sticky with gore and viscera. Slowly he set the meat back down on his messy plate and eyed the bread suspiciously, like a child told to eat his vegetables.
“I’ve been taking the vitamins Belphegor prescribed.” He muttered almost petulantly, and Lucifer couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You’re adorable.”
Alastor gasped as if offended and pushed Lucifer back, soaking a large red handprint into the front of his pristine white coat. He fell onto his back, wings flapping as he laughed.
Alastor’s stomach lurched, an underdeveloped hoof kicking at it instinctively, and somehow, that was almost…
Endearing.
“Alright you little menace, I heard him.” He grumbled with a hand on his stomach, stroking as if to soothe and calm, as the other reached out to take the offered food.
It was so strange how fast the instincts came, once he no longer actively fought them.
How little he minded.