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*Scene: Hazbin Hotel, 2:14 AM. Penthouse vs. Floor 63.*
Lucifer’s in the penthouse, pacing. Can’t sleep. Charlie’s latest “team bonding” idea blew up, and Alastor’s grin is burned into his brain.
Two floors down, Alastor’s in his room. He hears the pacing through the ceiling. He’s been waiting for it.
He picks up the old hotel intercom. Flips it on.
*Alastor*: *_ Can’t sleep, Lucifer? I’m flattered you’re thinking of me so late.[smooth][amused]
The intercom crackles. A second later Lucifer’s voice cuts through, sharp and annoyed.
*Lucifer*: __ Turn it off, Alastor. I’m not in the mood for your games.
*Alastor*: __ Games? I’m just being a concerned neighbor. You’ve been up there stomping around for 20 minutes. Someone might think you’re upset.
*Lucifer*: __ I _am_ upset. Because of you.
*Alastor*: __ Me? I didn’t make you sign off on Charlie’s “karaoke night.” That was all you, darling.[laughs]
*Lucifer*: __ If you say one more word about karaoke night I will personally redecorate your floor with your teeth.
*Alastor*: __ Threats, threats. Is that all you have left? No wit, no charm, just yelling through the intercom at 2 AM?
Lucifer slams his palm on the intercom button so hard it buzzes.
*Lucifer*: __ You’re infuriating. You’re insufferable. You walk around like you own the place, laughing at everything, and for what? So you can feel superior?
*Alastor*: __ And you walk around like the weight of Hell is yours alone to carry, like letting anyone help makes you weak. Tell me, Lucifer, how’s that working out for you?
Silence. For a second Lucifer doesn’t answer. You can hear his breathing, rough.
*Lucifer*: __ You don’t know anything about me.
*Alastor*: __ No. But I’m starting to think you don’t want me to.
Another pause. Then Lucifer’s voice comes back, lower, colder.
*Lucifer*: __ I hate you.
*Alastor*: __ I know.[quiet, no grin this time]
The line stays open. Neither hangs up.
From the penthouse, Lucifer can hear the faint sound of Alastor’s old jazz record bleeding through the floorboards. Alastor, two floors down, can hear Lucifer’s pacing stop.
*Lucifer*: __ Turn that off.
*Alastor*: _* Make me.
Lucifer doesn’t answer. He just kills the intercom with a click that echoes.
Alastor sits there in the dark, staring at the ceiling. No grin. Just quiet.
Two floors up, Lucifer sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the dead intercom.
They still hate each other.
But now they’re listening.
*Scene: Hazbin Hotel, Stairwell between Floor 63 and the Penthouse. 1:47 AM.*
The “hate each other but can’t stop talking” phase has officially started.
Lucifer’s coming down from the penthouse to yell at Husk about the bar tab. Halfway down, he stops.
Taped to the railing is a note.
Paper. Neat handwriting. In red ink.
> _“Left this here so you’d have something to yell at besides Husk.
> — A”_
Lucifer stares at it. His jaw ticks.
He rips it off, scribbles on the back with a pen from his pocket, and tapes it back two steps down.
> _“I don’t yell. I command. Learn the difference.
> — L”_
---
*2:03 AM. Alastor’s coming up.*
He finds the note. Reads it. His smile is small, not the broadcast one.
He adds his own below it, folds it, and leaves it.
> _“Command all you want. No one’s listening, Lucifer.
> — A”_
---
*2:31 AM. Lucifer’s coming back up.*
He finds the new note. Stops. Reads it twice.
He doesn’t scribble this time. He takes the note, folds it, and puts it in his jacket pocket.
Instead, he tapes a fresh one above it.
> _“Someone has to keep this place from falling apart.
> If it wasn’t me, it’d be rubble. And you know it.
> — L”_
---
*3:12 AM. Alastor’s back down.*
He reads it. His fingers linger on the paper longer than they should.
He doesn’t write a comeback. He writes this:
> _“Then stop doing it alone.
> — A”_
He leaves the note and walks away before Lucifer can come down again.
---
*4:00 AM. Lucifer’s back in the stairwell.*
He finds the note. Reads it once.
He doesn’t tape anything back.
He just stands there for a minute, hand on the railing, staring at Alastor’s handwriting.
Then he goes up to the penthouse and doesn’t pace.
---
They still hate each other.
But now the stairwell between Floor 63 and the penthouse has more words on it than any conversation they’ve had face to face.
*Scene: Hazbin Hotel Stairwell, 3:22 AM. Floor 65 Landing.*
The notes stopped two nights ago. Neither of them put a new one up.
Tonight, Lucifer doesn’t make it that far.
Alastor’s coming up with a book when he hears it — a dull thud, then nothing. No pacing. No swearing at the intercom. Just silence.
He rounds the corner and finds Lucifer slumped against the railing, eyes half-lidded, breathing too slow.
*Alastor*: *_ Lucifer?[sharp, not amused]
No answer.
Alastor drops the book. He’s at Lucifer’s side in two steps, fingers checking pulse, pupils.
*Alastor*: __ What did you take?
Lucifer mumbles something. It sounds like “Angel” and “sleep” and nothing else. His eyes roll back before Alastor can get more.
Alastor’s grin is gone. Completely.
*Alastor*: __ Damn it, Lucifer.
He hauls Lucifer up, one arm under his shoulders, the other around his waist. Lucifer’s dead weight — all 6’4” of him.
The penthouse is two floors up.
*Alastor*: __ If you die on me in this stairwell, I’m leaving you here.
Lucifer doesn’t respond.
Alastor drags him up step by step, cursing under his breath, shirt sticking to his back by the time they hit Floor 66. He kicks the penthouse door open with his heel.
*Alastor*: __ Charlie’s gonna kill me. Husk’s gonna laugh. And you’re gonna owe me for this, Lucifer.
He gets Lucifer onto the bed, rolls him onto his side, makes sure he’s breathing. Only then does Alastor sit back on his heels, hands shaking slightly.
For a long minute, he just stares.
*Alastor*: __ You’re an idiot.[quiet]
Lucifer stirs, groaning.
*Lucifer*: __...’sstor?[muffled]
*Alastor*: Yeah. It’s me. Lucky you.
Lucifer’s eyes crack open. Confused, unfocused.
*Lucifer*: __ Why’re you here.
*Alastor*: Because you fainted on my stairs like a dramatic mess and I wasn’t about to let you crack your skull open for Charlie to find in the morning.
*Lucifer*: __ Angel said it’d help.
*Alastor*: Angel said a lot of things. That doesn’t make them smart.
Lucifer closes his eyes again.
*Lucifer*: __ Can’t sleep. Not without it.
*Alastor*: I know.
That stops Lucifer. He looks at Alastor like he doesn’t recognize him.
*Alastor*: __ I hear you pacing. Two floors down. Every night.
Lucifer doesn’t have an answer for that.
Alastor stands, straightening his jacket like nothing happened. The mask is back, but it’s thinner.
*Alastor*: __ Don’t make me do that again, Lucifer. I hate exertion.
*Lucifer*: __...Thanks.
*Alastor*: _* Don’t thank me. I still hate you.[quiet]
But he doesn’t leave.
He sits in the chair by the bed, watching Lucifer’s breathing even out.
Two floors down, the stairwell is empty.
The note between them is still blank.
*Scene: Lucifer’s Penthouse, 7:41 AM.*
Lucifer wakes up with a headache that feels like Heaven dropped a pillar on his skull.
His mouth tastes awful. The room’s too bright. And he’s in his own bed, which makes no sense because the last thing he remembers is the stairwell going sideways.
He sits up too fast. Regrets it immediately.
On the bedside table: a glass of water. Untouched.
On the chair by the bed: nothing. No Alastor. No smug comment. Just a folded blanket thrown over the arm like it was used for maybe ten minutes and then discarded.
The door clicks open before Lucifer can call out.
Charlie sticks her head in, eyes wide.
*Charlie*: *_ Dad! You’re awake! Husk said you passed out on the stairs and Alastor—
*Lucifer*: __ He left.
Charlie stops.
*Charlie*: __ Yeah. He brought you up around 3:30, made sure you were breathing, then left. Said he had “more important things to do than babysit.”
Lucifer stares at the empty chair.
*Lucifer*: __...Of course he did.
*Charlie*: __ He looked worried, Dad.
*Lucifer*: __ He doesn’t get to look worried. He’s not allowed.
Charlie hesitates, then sets a note on the table next to the water. Same red ink, same neat handwriting.
> _“Don’t make me do that again.
> — A”_
Lucifer picks it up. Reads it twice. Folds it once, then twice, then sticks it in his jacket pocket with the others.
*Lucifer*: __ Tell Angel I’m revoking his pharmacy privileges.
*Charlie*: __ Already done.
She leaves. The room goes quiet again.
Lucifer looks at the chair. Then at the stairs.
He hates that the first thought he has is: _He heard me pacing._
He hates that the second thought is: _He came up anyway.*
He doesn’t get up yet.
Two floors down, Alastor’s door is closed. No music. No humming.
Just quiet.
And for the first time, Lucifer doesn’t hate it.
---
*Scene: Floor 63, Alastor’s Door. 11:03 PM.*
Alastor’s been back in his room for an hour. No radio. No records. Just silence, which is worse.
He’s about to turn in when he sees it — a scrap of paper shoved under the door. No knock. Of course not.
He picks it up.
In Husk’s sloppy, hungover handwriting:
> _“Al.
> It’s the cat.
> Angel’s been slipping Lucifer those ‘sleep aids’ he gets from the dealer on Level 4. Says it’s to ‘help him shut off.’
> It’s not.
> It’s knocking him out and he doesn’t remember half the night.
> Thought you should know, since you’re the one dragging him up the stairs like an idiot.
> Don’t tell him I told you. I like my liver where it is.
> — H”_
Alastor reads it once. Then again.
His smile doesn’t come.
He crumples the note in his fist, then smooths it out carefully and puts it in the same drawer as the other ones. The ones from the stairwell. The one from the penthouse.
*Alastor*: ** That damn spider.[quiet, no static, no grin]
He stands there a minute, staring at the door like it might tell him what to do next.
It doesn’t.
So he does what he always does when he doesn’t know: he plans.
First step: find Angel.
Second step: make sure he regrets ever touching Lucifer’s meds.
Third step: don’t think about why Lucifer didn’t tell him himself.
Alastor leaves the room.
Two floors up, Lucifer’s awake again. Pacing.
Neither of them knows the other knows yet.
*Scene: Hazbin Hotel Bar, 1:47 AM. Empty except for the two of them.*
Alastor didn’t send a note. He didn’t leave it to chance.
He waited until the bar was empty, until Husk had clocked out, until Angel was alone wiping glasses with too much attitude and not enough sobriety.
*Alastor*: *_ Angel.[smooth][cold]
Angel looks up. The glass in his hand stops moving.
*Angel Dust*: __ Well well. If it isn’t the Radio Demon. Come for a drink, sugar?
*Alastor*: __ No. I came for an explanation.
Angel’s grin falters for half a second. He puts the glass down too carefully.
*Angel Dust*: __ ‘Bout what?
*Alastor*: __ About the pills, Angel. The ones you’ve been giving Lucifer.
The air in the room gets heavier. Angel’s eyes flick to the door, then back to Alastor.
*Angel Dust*: __ I was just helping him sleep, Al. He hasn’t been sleeping. You know that better than anyone.
*Alastor*: __ I know he’s been pacing. I know he’s been lying to Charlie. I know he collapsed on my stairs because whatever you gave him hit too hard.[quiet][dangerous]
*Angel Dust*: __ Hey, don’t act like you care all of a sudden! You two can’t stand each other!
*Alastor*: __ And yet I’m the one who carried him up two floors when you weren’t there to catch him.[steps closer] Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if he’d hit his head? If Charlie had found him like that?
Angel looks away first. That’s answer enough.
*Alastor*: __ You don’t get to decide what he needs, Angel. You don’t get to play doctor with his head because you feel bad for him.
*Angel Dust*: __ I was trying to help!
*Alastor*: __ Help doesn’t knock someone out and leave them on a staircase, darling. That’s abandonment. And in this hotel, we don’t abandon people.
Angel’s jaw clenches. For once, the flippant mask cracks.
*Angel Dust*: __...He asked me. Okay? He asked. He said he couldn’t turn his brain off and I thought I was doing him a favor.
*Alastor*: __ Then you should’ve come to me. Or Charlie. Or anyone who wouldn’t just hand him something and walk away.
Silence. The only sound is the ice melting in a forgotten glass.
*Alastor*: __ It stops now. No more pills. No more “favors.” If Lucifer needs help sleeping, it’ll be through someone who actually gives a damn what happens after.
*Angel Dust*: __...Fine. Whatever. You’re scary when you’re not smiling, you know that?
*Alastor*: __ Good.[turns to leave]
He pauses at the door.
*Alastor*: _* And Angel? If I find out you’ve touched his meds again, I won’t be this calm next time.
He leaves.
Angel sits there, staring at the door, and doesn’t pour himself a drink.
Two floors up, Lucifer’s still pacing.
He doesn’t know it yet, but for the first time in weeks, no one’s slipping him anything tonight.
*Scene: Lucifer’s Penthouse, 3:11 AM.*
No pills. No Angel showing up with that too-casual “here ya go, boss.”
Just silence. And a bed that feels too big and too quiet.
Lucifer’s been lying there for two hours staring at the ceiling. His brain won’t shut off. It never does.
He keeps thinking about the stairwell. About Alastor’s hands under his arms, dragging him up. About the note in his pocket that he’s read six times tonight.
He hates that it’s the only thing keeping him still.
Down on Floor 63, Alastor’s awake too. Not pacing. Just sitting by the window, listening.
He can’t hear Lucifer’s footsteps anymore.
At 3:47 AM, the pacing stops.
Alastor’s fingers pause on the windowsill. He doesn’t move for a full minute.
Then he leans back, exhales, and closes his eyes.
*Alastor*: *_ Finally.[quiet]
---
*Scene: 6:03 AM. Lucifer’s Penthouse.*
Lucifer wakes up with the sun in his face and no headache.
It takes him a second to realize why.
He slept. Actually slept. No pills, no blackout, no waking up on the floor with no memory of how he got there.
He sits up slow, hand on his forehead, half expecting the floor to tilt.
It doesn’t.
On the nightstand is a glass of water. Same as last time.
But this time there’s also a note. Folded once, red ink, slipped under the glass so it wouldn’t blow away.
> _“You don’t need them.
> Sleep.
> — A”*
Lucifer stares at it longer than he should.
He doesn’t crumple it. He doesn’t throw it away.
He folds it again and puts it in the drawer with the others.
Two floors down, Alastor’s door is still closed. No music. No humming.
But for the first time since this started, the stairwell between them is quiet for the right reason.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 2:14 AM.*
Lucifer doesn’t sleep every night yet. But tonight he did.
And when he woke up without the headache, without the fog, he knew why.
So he goes down.
Not to the bar. Not to yell at Husk. He goes to the landing between Floor 63 and 64, where it started.
He pulls out a pen. His handwriting’s messier than Alastor’s, sharper, angled like he’s still arguing even on paper.
He tapes it to the railing, right where the first note was.
> _“I didn’t ask you to do it.
> But thanks for not letting me hit the floor.
> — L”_
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He turns and goes back up before he can overthink it.
---
*Scene: 3:02 AM. Alastor finds it.*
He’s coming back from the roof with a book and a cup of coffee he doesn’t drink. Sees the note immediately.
He reads it once. Stops. Reads it again.
The grin that shows up isn’t the broadcast one. It’s smaller. Real.
*Alastor*: ** You’re welcome, Lucifer.[quiet]
He doesn’t write back tonight.
He just takes the note, folds it carefully, and puts it in his jacket pocket with the others.
For the first time, the stairwell doesn’t feel like a battlefield.
It feels like a place where someone might actually meet him halfway.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell, 1:33 AM.*
Charlie’s been trying to figure out why Dad’s been sleeping better and why Alastor hasn’t been humming at 4 AM for the past week.
She finds out when she takes the stairs instead of the elevator to avoid bumping into Vaggie at 2 AM.
Halfway down, she sees it.
Taped to the railing, slightly crumpled, red ink.
> _“I didn’t ask you to do it.
> But thanks for not letting me hit the floor.
> — L”_
She stops. Reads it twice.
Then she hears footsteps above her.
*Charlie*: *_ Dad?[quiet]
Lucifer freezes on the landing above her. Alastor freezes on the landing below.
Both of them look down at her. Both of them look guilty, which is ridiculous because they’re both 200+ years old.
*Charlie*: __...You’ve been leaving notes?
*Lucifer*: __ It’s not what it looks like.
*Alastor*: __ It’s exactly what it looks like, Princess.[amused, but not broadcasting it]
Charlie walks down two steps, picks up the note, and holds it between them.
*Charlie*: __ You’ve been talking through the stairwell this whole time? Instead of just, I don’t know, talking?
*Lucifer*: __ We hate each other.
*Alastor*: __ We do.
*Charlie*: __ Then why’s this note in my dad’s handwriting saying thank you?
Neither of them answers.
The stairwell is quiet for a long time.
*Charlie*: __...I’m glad you’re sleeping better, Dad.
And Alastor, thanks for carrying him up. Husk told me.
Alastor’s eye twitches.
*Alastor*: __ I hate that man.
*Charlie*: __ You can keep leaving notes if you want. But maybe... try saying it out loud sometime?
She tucks the note back on the railing, gives them both a look that says _I’m not mad, but I will be if you keep being stupid_, and walks down to the bar.
Lucifer and Alastor are left staring at each other across five steps.
*Lucifer*: __ She’s going to tell Vaggie.
*Alastor*: __ She already has.
*Lucifer*: _*...Damn it.
Neither of them moves.
The note stays on the railing between them.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell, 1:47 AM.*
Vaggie doesn’t do subtle.
She finds Charlie crying-laughing over “Dad and Alastor’s stairwell fanfic” at the bar, reads one note, and decides this ends now.
She takes the stairs two at a time and finds them exactly where Charlie left them: five steps apart, pretending they aren’t staring at each other.
*Vaggie*: *_ Okay. Both of you. Talk. Out loud. Right now.
*Lucifer*: __ Vaggie, it’s late—
*Vaggie*: __ It’s been late for nine weeks. You two have written more to each other than you’ve said in years, and it’s happening on my stairwell.
Alastor leans against the railing, too calm for the situation.
*Alastor*: __ We were being efficient. No yelling, no property damage.
*Vaggie*: __ You dragged him up two floors after he passed out, Alastor. That’s not efficient, that’s caring. So say it.
Lucifer bristles immediately.
*Lucifer*: __ I don’t—
*Vaggie*: __ You don’t have to say “I like him.” Say why you stopped pacing. Say why you left the note.
Lucifer looks at the note on the railing. Then at Alastor.
*Lucifer*: __...Because you didn’t leave me there.
Alastor blinks. Once. The smirk doesn’t come.
*Vaggie*: __ And you?
She turns to Alastor.
*Alastor*: __ Because if I didn’t, Charlie would’ve found him. And she’d have blamed herself.[quiet]
Vaggie exhales. Not satisfied, but it’ll do for now.
*Vaggie*: __ Good. Now get off the stairs. Both of you. If you’re gonna keep doing this, do it where I don’t have to walk around it at 3 AM.
She picks up the note, folds it, and hands it to Lucifer.
*Vaggie*: __ Keep it. Or say it to his face next time. I’m going to bed.
She walks off, leaving them alone on the landing.
Silence.
*Lucifer*: __ She’s annoying.
*Alastor*: _* She’s right.[quiet]
Lucifer doesn’t answer. He just puts the note in his pocket with the others.
The stairwell’s quiet again. But it doesn’t feel like a standoff anymore.
It feels like a waiting room.
--
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 2:09 AM.*
No notes tonight. Vaggie made sure of it. She took the tape.
Lucifer’s on the 65th step, sitting with his elbows on his knees like he’s waiting for an execution.
Alastor’s on the 60th, leaning against the railing, reading a book he isn’t actually reading.
Neither of them brought paper.
*Lucifer*: *_...You’re still awake.
*Alastor*: __ And you’re not pacing. Progress.
Lucifer huffs. It’s not a laugh, but it’s close.
*Lucifer*: __ Can’t. Every time I start, I remember you dragging me up here like I weighed nothing.
*Alastor*: __ You don’t. You’re heavy. And ungrateful.
*Lucifer*: __ I said thank you. On paper.
*Alastor*: __ Paper doesn’t count, Lucifer. Vaggie made that clear.
Silence. Not the bad kind. The kind that feels like they’re testing if the floor will hold if they actually say something real.
*Lucifer*: __ Why did you come up? That night. You could’ve left me there. Husk would’ve found me.
*Alastor*: __ I could have. But I didn’t.[pause]
*Lucifer*: __ Why?
Alastor closes the book. Looks up.
*Alastor*: __ Because I got tired of hearing you pace, Lucifer. Because I got tired of pretending I didn’t hear it.
Lucifer stares at him. No snark. No comeback.
*Lucifer*: __...Oh.
*Alastor*: __ Don’t make it weird.
*Lucifer*: __ You made it weird when you started caring.
*Alastor*: __ I don’t care. I’m just efficient. Can’t have the hotel’s owner dying on my stairs. Bad for business.
Lucifer stands up. He’s one step closer now.
*Lucifer*: __ Keep telling yourself that, Alastor.
*Alastor*: _* I will.
Neither of them moves away.
For the first time since Week 1, they’re on the same landing, and neither of them is looking for an exit.
The stairwell’s still quiet.
But it doesn’t feel empty anymore.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 2:33 AM.*
It starts stupid.
Lucifer’s legs give out first. He’s been standing on that step for ten minutes, and his knees are done pretending they’re fine at 2 AM.
He sits.
Alastor watches him do it, then sighs like this is a huge inconvenience.
*Alastor*: *_ If you fall asleep here, I’m not carrying you again.
*Lucifer*: __ You said that last time. And you did it anyway.
Alastor rolls his eyes, but he sits too. One step below Lucifer, close enough that their shoulders almost touch.
Neither of them says anything for a while.
The hotel’s quiet. No Husk yelling from the bar, no Angel humming, no Charlie pacing the lobby. Just the two of them and the sound of the old building settling.
*Lucifer*: __...It’s weird. Sitting here without yelling.
*Alastor*: __ It’s weird not having a note to read.
Lucifer bumps his shoulder against Alastor’s, just once. Testing it.
Alastor doesn’t move away.
*Alastor*: __ Don’t get used to this, Morningstar.
*Lucifer*: _* Wouldn’t dream of it, Radio Demon.
But he doesn’t get up.
And Alastor doesn’t move down a step.
For the first time since they started this whole stupid stairwell thing, they’re sitting together. No notes. No fighting. Just two idiots who hate each other and somehow ended up here anyway.
Two floors up, Charlie’s asleep.
Two floors down, Husk’s asleep.
On the landing between them, the silence finally feels like it belongs to them.
---
*Scene: Lucifer’s Penthouse, 4:12 AM.*
Lucifer’s in bed. Actually in bed this time. No pacing, no pills, no stairwell.
He should be asleep.
He’s not.
He’s staring at the ceiling, thinking about how it felt to sit next to Alastor without a single note between them. How Alastor didn’t move away when he bumped shoulders. How quiet it was, and how it didn’t feel bad.
*Lucifer*: *_...Damn it.
He says it out loud. Like saying it will make it go away.
It doesn’t.
---
*Scene: Alastor’s Room, Floor 63, 4:12 AM.*
Alastor’s not reading. He’s not humming. He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, book closed on his chest.
He’s thinking about Lucifer sitting one step above him. About the way Lucifer said “thank you” without the sarcasm. About how he didn’t hate it.
*Alastor*: __ Ridiculous.
He says it quiet, like the room might repeat it back.
It doesn’t.
---
*Scene: 4:17 AM. Both rooms, at the same time.*
Lucifer sits up, runs a hand through his hair, and decides.
*Lucifer*: __ Not dealing with this. We hate each other. We’re fine.
Alastor sits up, adjusts his tie even though he’s alone, and decides the same thing.
*Alastor*: _* Pointless. It changes nothing. We’re fine.
They both lie back down.
The stairwell’s empty tonight.
But for the first time, they’re both awake in their rooms thinking about the same person, and both choosing not to act on it.
It’s not denial. Not really.
It’s just easier to pretend that sitting on the stairs together didn’t mean anything.
Easier than admitting it did.
---
*Scene: Floor 64 Hallway, 3:44 AM.*
Lucifer’s coming back from the kitchen with coffee he doesn’t need and pride he’s trying to keep intact.
Alastor’s coming out of the stairwell, book under his arm, looking like he’s been thinking too much and hates it.
They stop three feet apart.
Neither of them says anything for a full five seconds.
*Lucifer*: *_...You’re up late.
*Alastor*: __ And you’re up early. Or still up late. Time’s a mess for you.
Lucifer snorts. Alastor’s grin is back to being 90% broadcast, 10% real.
*Lucifer*: __ You avoiding the stairs?
*Alastor*: __ You avoiding them?
*Lucifer*: __ No.
*Alastor*: __ Good. Neither am I.
They both know it’s a lie. They’ve both been avoiding it since Week 13. Since they both sat in their rooms at 4 AM and decided “we’re fine” meant “don’t think about it.”
*Lucifer*: __...You sleep okay?
*Alastor*: __ Better than you, probably. You look tired.
*Lucifer*: __ You look smug.
*Alastor*: __ I am.
A beat passes. Neither of them walks away.
*Lucifer*: __ Right. Well.
*Alastor*: _* Right.
They step past each other in the hallway. Shoulders don’t touch this time. But it’s close.
Neither of them looks back.
Two floors down, the stairwell sits empty and quiet.
And both of them are pretending that’s fine.
---
*Scene: Hotel Lobby, 2:19 AM.*
Charlie’s been watching them for three nights.
Lucifer avoids the stairs.
Alastor avoids the stairs.
Both of them are somehow more tense than when they were actually fighting.
She sets her mug down on the front desk and walks straight up to them where they’re pretending not to be in the same room.
*Charlie*: *_ Okay. What’s going on with you two?
*Lucifer*: __ Nothing.
*Alastor*: __ Nothing at all, Princess.[too smooth]
*Charlie*: __ You haven’t used the stairs in a week. You two orbit each other like you’re scared of gravity.
Lucifer looks at Alastor. Alastor looks at Lucifer.
Neither of them wants to be the first to admit it.
*Charlie*: __ Dad, you sleep better now. Alastor, you stopped humming at 4 AM. Something changed on those stairs. And now you’re both acting weird because you’re scared it meant something?
*Lucifer*: __ It didn’t mean anything.
*Alastor*: __ Correct. It was efficient. Practical.
Charlie crosses her arms.
*Charlie*: __ You two are terrible liars when you’re lying to yourselves.
She walks over, grabs one of each of their sleeves, and starts dragging them toward the stairs.
*Charlie*: __ Go talk. For real this time. I’ll stay here so you don’t chicken out.
*Lucifer*: __ Charlie, I’m 200 years old—
*Charlie*: __ And you’re acting like you’re 12 with a crush.
Alastor chokes on nothing.
*Alastor*: __ I beg your pardon—
*Charlie*: __ Stairs. Now. I’ll know if you don’t go.
She lets go and folds her arms, blocking the elevator like a tiny, pink, terrifying bouncer.
Lucifer and Alastor stare at each other.
The stairwell’s right there. Empty. Waiting.
*Lucifer*: __...This is ridiculous.
*Alastor*: _* It really is.[amused, but not cruel]
But they both start walking.
Charlie watches them go, then turns back to the lobby, smiling to herself.
The stairwell’s quiet again. But not for long.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Entrance, 2:22 AM.*
Charlie’s still standing in the lobby like a sentry with pink hair and zero patience.
Lucifer and Alastor walk to the stairs together. Side by side. Silent.
It feels like progress until it doesn’t.
They hit the landing. The door’s right there.
Neither of them opens it.
*Lucifer*: *_...I’m tired.
*Alastor*: __ As am I.
They look at each other. Both know what’s supposed to happen here. Talk. Say the thing.
Instead, they both turn.
Lucifer goes up to 64.
Alastor goes down to 63.
Two doors open. Two doors close.
*Charlie*: __...You guys are impossible![from the lobby, faint]
*Lucifer*: __ We’re fine!
*Alastor*: _* Perfectly fine![both calling down, same time]
The stairwell goes quiet again.
No notes. No yelling. No talking.
Just two doors on two different floors, and both of them lying awake thinking about how close they got to actually saying it.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Hallway, 3:09 AM.*
It’s an accident.
Lucifer’s on his way to the kitchen again. Alastor’s coming up from the bar because Husk’s snoring is offensive to his ears.
They round the corner at the same time.
*Lucifer*: *_...Seriously?
*Alastor*: __ The universe has a sense of humor. It’s poor.
They both stop. Too close. Too aware of it.
*Lucifer*: __ You going to bed?
*Alastor*: __ Trying to. Unlike some people, I value sleep.
*Lucifer*: __ I sleep fine now.
The words come out before he thinks them through.
*Lucifer*: __...Better than before. When you—when we were—
He cuts himself off. Looks away like he can take it back.
Alastor’s smile drops a fraction. Not the broadcast one. The smaller one.
*Alastor*: __ When we were on the stairs.[quiet]
Lucifer doesn’t answer. He can’t without making it worse.
*Lucifer*: __...Goodnight, Alastor.
*Alastor*: _* Goodnight, Lucifer.
They walk to their doors. Both of them pause with their hands on the handles.
Neither of them says anything else.
But Lucifer doesn’t go inside right away. And Alastor doesn’t either.
For three seconds, the hallway’s quiet in that way it only gets when both of them are pretending they don’t want to turn around.
Then both doors close at the same time.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 3:41 AM.*
Lucifer doesn’t expect anything when he pushes the door open.
He’s not even sure why he came. He told himself it was to clear his head.
Then he sees it.
A single folded paper tucked under the step where they used to sit. Alastor’s handwriting, sharp and looping. No song lyrics. No broadcast schedule.
Just his name.
*Lucifer*: *_...You’ve got to be kidding me.
He picks it up anyway.
*Note*:
_Lucifer._
_If you’re reading this, you came. Stop pretending you didn’t want to.
I’m not down here tonight.
I’m trying to be reasonable. It’s infuriating.
- A_
Lucifer stares at it for a long time.
He doesn’t tear it up. He doesn’t laugh it off.
He folds it back up and puts it in his pocket.
*Lucifer*: _*...Infuriating.[quiet, to himself]
He doesn’t sit. He doesn’t write back.
He just leaves the stairwell empty again, with one more thing he’s not dealing with in his pocket.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 4:03 AM.*
Alastor finds it on the way down.
Folded once, tucked under the same step. No envelope. No flourish. Just Lucifer’s messy scrawl.
*Lucifer’s Note*:
_Alastor._
_I came. You weren’t here. Coward.
Reasonable is boring.
- L_
Alastor reads it twice.
His grin goes crooked. Not the on-air grin. The real one. The one that means he’s annoyed and pleased at the same time.
*Alastor*: **...Coward, am I?[quiet][amused]
He folds the note smaller, slips it into his jacket pocket next to his own.
He doesn’t sit either.
He just leaves, taking both notes with him.
The stairwell’s still empty.
But now it’s not one-sided.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 3:55 AM. Weeks 20–23.*
The notes keep happening.
Week 20: Lucifer leaves one. “Stop dodging me, Alastor.”
Week 21: Alastor leaves one back. “You’re dodging harder, Morningstar.”
Week 22: Lucifer’s gets shorter. “Shut up and show up.”
Week 23: Alastor’s reply is just a smiley face. Lucifer’s annoyed for a full hour.
They don’t sit. They don’t talk.
But the step between them gets warmer.
---
*Scene: Week 24, 4:11 AM.*
Angel’s bored. Angel’s nosy.
Angel’s sitting on the stairs with a soda when he sees Lucifer slide a folded note under the step and leave.
He waits five minutes.
*Angel*: *_...Ohhh no you don’t.
He grabs it. Reads it.
_“You’re insufferable. Come down tomorrow.”_
Angel grins.
He pulls out his own pen, adds one line at the bottom in terrible fake-Alastor handwriting:
_“Only if you bring snacks, Daddy.”_
Then he folds it back, puts it exactly where it was, and disappears before Alastor shows up.
---
*Scene: 4:18 AM.*
Alastor opens the note. Reads Lucifer’s part.
Sees the last line.
His grin doesn’t twitch. His eye doesn’t twitch.
But his hand tightens around the paper just enough to crease it.
*Alastor*: __ Angel.[flat][deadly]
He doesn’t leave a reply that night.
---
*Scene: 4:20 AM, one floor up.*
Lucifer wakes up to a text from Angel:
_“Hope you like tuna chips 😘”_
*Lucifer*: _*...Angel, I will end you.
The stairwell stays empty again.
But now both of them know someone’s been reading.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell Landing, 3:30 AM.*
Lucifer’s there first. For once.
He’s got a note in his hand, and he’s not alone. Alastor walks in 30 seconds later, looking suspicious and smug at the same time.
*Alastor*: *_ You better not be setting me up, Morningstar.
*Lucifer*: __ You better not ruin this, Radio.
They don’t sit. They write.
*Lucifer’s note*:
_“Stairs. Midnight. Bring the good whiskey. Alone.”_
*Alastor’s addition underneath*:
_“If you’re late, I’m telling Charlie about the tuna chips. - A”_
They fold it together, swap it for the old note, and hide in the shadow of the landing above.
*Lucifer*: __ If he doesn’t fall for it, I’m blaming you.
*Alastor*: __ If he does, I’m taking all the credit.
They wait.
---
*Scene: 3:47 AM.*
Angel comes down whistling, sees the note, snatches it up.
Reads it.
His grin goes wide.
*Angel*: __ Ooooh, daddy’s feisty tonight~
He turns to leave, doesn’t notice the step above him.
*Lucifer*: __ Gotcha.
*Alastor*: __ Say hello, Angel.
Two voices, one on top of the other.
Angel looks up. Sees both of them leaning over the railing like two very pissed-off cats.
*Angel*: __...Oh. Oh no.
*Lucifer*: __ You mess with our notes, you deal with both of us.
*Alastor*: __ Consider this a broadcast interruption.
Angel backs up one step, then stops. Because behind him, Husk’s standing there with his arms crossed, having been told to block the exit “just in case.”
*Angel*: __ You guys planned this?[offended]
*Lucifer*: __ Took two weeks of notes to get you here.
*Alastor*: __ And not one argument. Isn’t that efficient?
Angel looks between them. Lucifer, arms crossed, trying to look mad and failing. Alastor, grinning like he just won the radio ratings war.
*Angel*: __...You two are disgusting.
*Lucifer*: __ You started it.
*Alastor*: __ And we finished it.
Angel sighs, holds up his hands.
*Angel*: __ Fine, fine. No more notes. But if you two kiss or whatever, I’m charging for emotional damage.
The stairwell goes quiet.
Lucifer and Alastor both look away at the same time.
*Lucifer*: __ We’re not—
*Alastor*: __ Nothing to charge for.
Angel just grins and walks past them.
*Angel*: __ Sure, sure. Keep telling yourselves that.
He leaves. Husk follows, shaking his head.
Lucifer and Alastor are left alone on the stairs.
For the first time since Week 12, they don’t leave.
*Lucifer*: __...He’s insufferable.
*Alastor*: _* You’re one to talk.[quiet]
Neither of them sits down. But neither of them walks away either.
---
*Scene: Hotel, 3:00 AM onward. Weeks 26–29.*
After the Angel Incident, they stop using the stairs as a drop point.
It’s too easy. Too predictable.
So it becomes a game.
*Week 26*: Lucifer hides a note in Alastor’s book when he leaves it on the bar. Alastor finds it mid-broadcast and has to keep smiling through three songs while reading _“You’re terrible at hiding. Check the piano.”_
*Week 27*: Alastor leaves his reply tucked in Lucifer’s coffee mug before dawn. Lucifer almost drinks it. The note says _“Good morning. You’re welcome.”_ He spends the day glaring at everything.
*Week 28*: Lucifer escalates. Note in Alastor’s hat. Alastor escalates back. Note under Lucifer’s pillow while he’s asleep. Lucifer wakes up, reads _“Sleep well? I did.”_, and throws the pillow at the wall.
*Week 29*: Alastor hides one in the vending machine. Lucifer has to buy a soda to get it. The note inside: _“Still cheaper than therapy. Meet me on the roof at 4.”_
He doesn’t go to the roof.
He does check the vending machine again the next night.
---
*Scene: Week 30, Floor 63 Landing, 4:01 AM.*
They’re back on the stairs. Not sitting. Just passing through.
*Lucifer*: *_ This is ridiculous.
*Alastor*: __ It’s a game, Morningstar. Keep up.
*Lucifer*: __ I’m not playing.
*Alastor*: __ You checked the vending machine.
Lucifer doesn’t answer. He just drops a folded note on the step and walks up to 64.
Alastor picks it up.
_“Rooftop. 4:15. Or don’t. Coward.”_
Alastor looks at the clock. It’s 4:02.
*Alastor*: _*...He’s getting sloppy.
He pockets the note and heads for the roof.
The game’s getting harder to pretend isn’t about more than notes.
---
*Scene: Hotel Rooftop, 4:17 AM.*
It’s cold. Wind cuts across the edge of the building.
Alastor’s already there when Lucifer arrives. He’s leaning on the ledge like he wasn’t waiting.
*Alastor*: *_ Took you two minutes. Impatient, Morningstar?
*Lucifer*: __ You said 4:15. It’s 4:17.
*Alastor*: __ I lied.
Lucifer stops a few feet away. Neither of them sits. The roof’s too open for that.
For a while it’s just the city noise below and the sound of them breathing.
*Lucifer*: __...You’re annoying.
*Alastor*: __ And you’re predictable. Still checking every vending machine.
*Lucifer*: __ Shut up.
Another pause. Longer this time.
*Lucifer*: __ Why do you even bother with the notes? You could just—
He stops. Swallows it.
*Alastor*: __ Could just what?
*Lucifer*: __...Nothing. Forget it.
But Alastor’s looking at him now. Not the broadcast smile. The other one.
*Alastor*: __ Say it, Luci.
*Lucifer*: __ Don’t call me that.[quiet]
*Alastor*: __ Then say it.
Lucifer looks at the ground, then at him, and it slips out before he can catch it.
*Lucifer*: __ It’s easier to talk to you when you’re not here.
The words hang there. Too honest. Too much.
Alastor blinks. Once. Twice.
*Alastor*: __...Huh.
*Lucifer*: __ I didn’t mean—
*Alastor*: __ You did.
Lucifer turns away, jaw tight.
*Lucifer*: __ Forget I said anything.
He starts for the door.
*Alastor*: __ Luci.[soft]
Lucifer stops. Doesn’t turn around.
*Alastor*: __ Same.
Lucifer goes still.
*Alastor*: _* It’s easier for me too. When you’re not here.
Lucifer doesn’t reply. He just pushes the door open and leaves.
Alastor stays on the roof.
He’s still smiling, but it’s smaller. And it doesn’t reach his eyes.
---
*Scene: Floor 63 Stairwell, 4:04 AM.*
Lucifer’s halfway down when his legs give out.
He’s been running on 3 hours of sleep and too much coffee for 5 days. The note game, the roof, the slip-up—it’s all catching up.
*Lucifer*: *_...Shit.
He doesn’t make it to the next step.
Alastor’s already moving before Lucifer hits the ground. One second Lucifer’s falling, the next he’s catching air and Alastor’s arms.
*Alastor*: __ Luci?[quiet][sharp]
No answer. Lucifer’s out cold, breathing shallow, face pale even for him.
Alastor’s grin drops completely.
*Alastor*: __...You idiot.
He shifts Lucifer’s weight up, careful, one arm under his knees, the other behind his back. Easier than it should be.
*Alastor*: __ Husk’s going to kill me for this. Charlie’s going to cry. Angel’s going to make it weird.
He doesn’t take the stairs down. He goes up.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 4:12 AM.*
Alastor kicks the door open with his foot and lays Lucifer on the couch like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
He doesn’t call Niffty. Doesn’t call Husk.
He just sits on the edge of the coffee table, watching Lucifer’s chest rise and fall.
*Alastor*: __ If you die on my couch, I’m blaming you.[quiet]
Lucifer doesn’t respond.
Alastor pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and throws it over him. Rough, but careful.
Then he sits back, arms crossed, and waits.
*Alastor*: __ Stupid. Reckless. Annoying.
A pause.
*Alastor*: _*...Stay asleep a bit longer. You look less infuriating that way.
Outside, the hotel’s quiet.
Inside, neither of them say anything else.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 5:47 AM.*
Alastor doesn’t sleep much. Never has.
But watching Lucifer breathe for an hour is weirdly exhausting, so he lets himself doze. Just for a bit. On the couch, right next to the armrest where Lucifer’s head is.
He wakes up to weight shifting.
*Alastor*: *_...Luci?
Lucifer’s eyes are closed. He’s sitting up, slow, like he’s not fully there.
Sleepwalking. Of course he is.
*Alastor*: __ Don’t fall off the couch, Morningstar. I’m not catching you twice.
Lucifer doesn’t answer. He just leans sideways.
Right into Alastor’s side.
Alastor freezes for half a second, then sighs and shifts so Lucifer’s head ends up on his shoulder instead of sliding onto the floor.
*Alastor*: __ You’re heavy when you’re unconscious, you know that?
No reply. Just slow, steady breathing.
Alastor looks down at him. Hair messy, no smirk, no guard up. Just Lucifer, quiet for once.
*Alastor*: __...Told you to stay asleep longer.
He doesn’t move him. Doesn’t wake him up.
He just leans back, lets Lucifer settle against him, and closes his eyes again.
---
*Scene: 7:03 AM.*
Alastor wakes up properly to sunlight and the feeling of someone breathing against his neck.
Lucifer’s still out. Still curled against him on the couch, like he decided that was the safest place at 6 AM and never reconsidered.
Alastor doesn’t move.
For a long time, he just listens.
*Alastor*: _*...You’re going to kill me with the heart attack, Luci.
Lucifer murmurs something incoherent and burrows closer.
Alastor doesn’t push him away.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 7:05 AM.*
Lucifer wakes up to sunlight and a crick in his neck.
He also wakes up to the realization that he’s not on the couch alone.
He’s half-curled against Alastor, Alastor’s arm awkwardly braced against the back of the couch to keep him from sliding off.
*Lucifer*: *_...What.
He pulls back fast. Too fast. His head spins.
*Lucifer*: __ What the hell happened? Why am I in your—
He stops.
Because through the penthouse window, hovering just outside the glass, is a drone.
Tiny. Black. Camera lens pointed right at them.
Lucifer goes pale.
*Lucifer*: __...That’s not mine.
*Alastor*: __ I noticed.[dry]
Lucifer’s already moving, grabbing for the window latch. His vision goes white around the edges. Not enough sleep, not enough food, too much adrenaline.
*Lucifer*: __ If that footage gets out—
*Alastor*: __ Lucifer, stop—
Lucifer doesn’t stop. He lunges for the window.
And misses.
His knees give out, and he goes down hard.
*Alastor*: __ Luci!
He catches him again. Same position as the stairs. Only this time Lucifer’s unconscious before he even hits Alastor’s chest.
Alastor looks from Lucifer’s face to the drone and back.
*Alastor*: __...Of course.
He lifts Lucifer carefully, lays him back on the couch, and turns his glare on the window.
*Alastor*: __ Smile for the camera, you little shit.
The drone darts away.
Alastor doesn’t follow it. Not yet.
He sits back down next to Lucifer and waits.
*Alastor*: _* You’re going to give me an aneurysm, Morningstar.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 7:08 AM.*
Alastor checks Lucifer’s pulse. Once, twice.
It’s steady. Too steady.
*Alastor*: *_...You’re not waking up in five minutes this time, are you?
Lucifer’s out cold. Deeper than the stairs. Breathing’s slow, face is drawn tight even in sleep.
Alastor’s known him long enough to tell the difference between “passed out” and “system shut down.”
This is the second one.
*Alastor*: __ Idiot ran himself into the ground, then saw a drone and decided to short-circuit.
He brushes Lucifer’s hair back off his forehead. Just once. Clinical. Mostly.
*Alastor*: __ If you wake up with a headache, that’s on you.
He stands up, rolls his shoulders, and looks at the window.
The drone’s gone, but the angle it was at—high, steady, waiting—wasn’t random. Someone’s watching the penthouse.
*Alastor*: __ Husk can sit on him. Angel can’t be trusted not to take pictures.
He grabs his cane off the table, grin sliding back into place. But it’s sharper now. Colder.
*Alastor*: __ And I’m going to find out who wants footage of the Morningstar sleeping in my arms bad enough to send a toy up here.
---
*Scene: Hotel Lobby, 7:22 AM.*
Husk finds Alastor heading for the door with murder in his eyes and Lucifer’s blanket still draped over his arm.
*Husk*: __ Where you going? And why do you have that?
*Alastor*: __ Watching the Prince. Don’t let him wander off and find another drone.
*Husk*: __...You want me to babysit Lucifer?
*Alastor*: __ I want you to keep him alive until I get back. He’s out for a while.
Husk looks past him into the penthouse. Sees Lucifer on the couch, pale and still.
*Husk*: __ You’re serious.
*Alastor*: __ Very.
He tips his hat and walks out.
*Alastor*: _* And Husk? If he wakes up, tell him I said “don’t.”
The doors swing shut behind him.
---
*Scene: Hotel Rooftop, 8:14 AM.*
The drone didn’t fly far.
Alastor finds it crashed against the HVAC unit on the east wing, lens cracked, feed dead. Too clean. Someone pulled the plug the second it lost sight of the window.
*Alastor*: *_...Amateur.
He kneels, picks up the casing. There’s a scratched serial number and a sticker half-peeled off: a red V.
*Alastor*: __ Vee’s little toys. Should’ve guessed.
He pockets it and heads back inside. No chase, no fight. The real answer’s not on the roof.
It’s in the penthouse.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 9:02 AM.*
Husk opens the door before Alastor even knocks.
*Husk*: __ He hasn’t moved.
Alastor steps in. Lucifer’s exactly where he left him, on the couch, blanket pulled up to his chin, breathing slow and even.
Still out cold.
*Alastor*: __ Longer than I expected.
*Husk*: __ Told you. Dude’s been running on fumes for weeks. You bring back the guy with the drone?
*Alastor*: __ Drone’s dead. Operator’s gone to ground. But I know who paid for it.
He tosses the broken casing on the coffee table. The red V glints in the light.
*Husk*: __...Vee.
*Alastor*: __ Vee.
Alastor sits on the edge of the coffee table, eyes on Lucifer.
*Alastor*: __ She wants leverage. And she almost got it.
Husk follows his gaze.
*Husk*: __ You gonna tell him?
*Alastor*: __ When he wakes up. If he wakes up.
Lucifer doesn’t stir.
Alastor leans back, cane across his knees, and waits.
*Alastor*: _* Stubborn to the end, even asleep.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 11:03 AM.*
The knock is loud. Too loud for this time of day.
Husk opens the door a crack. Sees Valentino and Velvette.
*Husk*: *_...You’re not welcome.
*Valentino*: __ Oh, come on, Husk. We just want to see the old man.
*Velvette*: __ Heard he’s been under the weather. So thoughtful of us to check in.
Charlie’s behind them, looking between the two of them and the door. She’d offered to “help them find Dad” because she thought he was sick.
She didn’t know they’d been watching the penthouse.
*Charlie*: __ Dad? Dad, are you awake?
She pushes the door open.
Sees Lucifer on the couch. Pale. Unmoving.
And Alastor standing in front of him like a wall.
*Charlie*: __ Dad!
She’s at Lucifer’s side in two seconds, checking his pulse, his breathing.
*Charlie*: __ What happened? What did you do to him?
*Valentino*: __ Whoa, kid. We didn’t touch him. We just wanted to talk.
*Alastor*: __ About the footage, I’m sure.
Alastor steps forward, cane tapping once against the floor. The grin’s back. Not friendly.
*Alastor*: __ You two tried to get a broadcast I didn’t approve. That’s rude.
*Velvette*: __ Rude? We were just getting content! Lucifer and the Radio Demon, cuddling on the couch? That’s ratings gold!
*Charlie*: __ You were spying on him!
*Valentino*: __ We were documenting a historic moment!
Lucifer doesn’t move. But Charlie’s hand finds his, and her voice drops.
*Charlie*: __ Dad, wake up. Please.
Valentino takes a step closer.
*Valentino*: __ Or what, princess? You gonna sic the hotel on us?
Alastor’s smile widens.
*Alastor*: __ No. I am.
Shadows stretch across the floor. The temperature drops.
Charlie stands, puts herself between Valentino and Lucifer.
*Charlie*: __ Leave. Now. Or I’ll make you leave.
Velvette looks at Charlie, then at Alastor, then at Lucifer still out cold.
*Velvette*: __...This isn’t worth it.
*Valentino*: __ Fine. But we’re not done here.
They back out, fast, before Alastor can make it literal.
The door slams.
Silence.
Charlie turns back to Lucifer, tears in her eyes.
*Charlie*: __ Dad, please wake up.
Alastor watches her. Then kneels beside the couch.
*Alastor*: __ He will. He’s too stubborn not to.
Charlie looks up at him.
*Charlie*: __...Thank you. For not letting them take him.
Alastor doesn’t answer. He just keeps his eyes on Lucifer.
*Alastor*: _* Don’t thank me yet, Princess. He’s still out.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 1:17 PM.*
Charlie and Husk left 20 minutes ago.
“Get some rest, both of you,” Charlie said, looking between Lucifer still out cold on the couch and Alastor slumped in the chair beside it.
Alastor didn’t argue. He’d been up since 4 AM.
So now the penthouse is quiet.
Too quiet.
Alastor’s asleep in the chair, head tilted back, cane resting against his knee. Lucifer’s still out on the couch, breathing steady but deep.
The door opens.
*Angel*: *_...Hey?
He walks in like he owns the place. But his eyes are wrong. Flat. Pupils too small.
Valentino’s voice echoes faintly behind his words.
*Angel*: __ Al? You awake? Daddy’s got something he wants to show you.
Alastor doesn’t stir.
Angel steps further in, hands in his pockets, posture too stiff.
*Angel*: __ C’mon, sleepyhead. Get up. We’re gonna have a little talk about that footage. About you and Lucifer. About how much people would pay to see it.
Valentino’s using Angel’s mouth like a speaker.
*Angel*: __ Don’t make me get rough, Al. You know Daddy doesn’t like being ignored.
Alastor’s brow twitches. Still asleep.
Angel moves closer to the couch, staring down at Lucifer.
*Angel*: __ Look at him. All helpless. All quiet. Would be a shame if something happened while he’s like this, huh?
The shadows in the room start to twitch.
Alastor’s eyes snap open.
*Alastor*: __ Get away from him.
Angel doesn’t stop. He reaches for Lucifer’s arm.
*Alastor*: __ I said—get. Away.
The chair tips back as Alastor moves, cane slamming into Angel’s wrist before he can touch Lucifer.
Angel stumbles back, head jerking like someone yanked a string.
*Angel*: __ Hey! That hurt!
*Alastor*: __ Good.
Alastor’s between Angel and the couch now, awake fully, grin sharp and furious.
*Alastor*: __ Tell Valentino if he wants me, he can come say it to my face. Using you is cowardly. Even for him.
*Angel*: __ Daddy says you’re cute when you’re mad.
Alastor’s eyes narrow.
*Alastor*: _* Tell Daddy I’m about to make him regret teaching you how to knock.
---
*Scene: Penthouse Hallway, 1:32 PM.*
Valentino pulls Angel back with a tug on the invisible string.
*Valentino*: *_ Alright, Angel baby. We’ll play it your boyfriend’s way for now.
*Angel*: __ Daddy, I don’t—
*Valentino*: __ Shh. We’ll try again later. When the Radio Demon’s asleep.
He leans in, fingers pressing against Angel’s temple.
*Valentino*: __ When he’s out cold again, you go back in. Grab the Morningstar. Bring him to me. And make sure you keep the camera rolling so Alastor gets to watch himself fail live.
*Angel*: __...Okay, Daddy.
The flatness comes back into his voice. He lets himself be walked out.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 2:41 PM.*
Alastor doesn’t stay awake long.
Watching Lucifer breathe is exhausting when you’ve been running on fury and 3 hours of sleep for 36 hours straight.
He drifts off in the chair. Cane clatters to the floor. He doesn’t catch it.
The door clicks open.
Angel slips in. Quiet. Too quiet.
His eyes are empty again. Valentino’s voice is a whisper in his head.
*Valentino*: __ That’s it, baby. Don’t wake the pretty one. Just take the other one.
Angel moves to the couch.
Lucifer’s still out cold. Deeper than before. He doesn’t react when Angel’s hands go under his shoulders.
*Angel*: __ Sorry, Lucifer. Daddy said I have to.
He starts to lift him.
Alastor’s eyes don’t open.
But his shadow does.
It stretches across the floor, quick and sharp, wrapping around Angel’s wrist and yanking him back before Lucifer’s even lifted an inch.
*Alastor*: *...Told you.*
His voice is low, still half-asleep, but the grin is there. Always there.
*Alastor*: * Valentino’s not very patient, is he?*
Angel goes still, fighting against the shadow.
*Angel*: _* Daddy said you’d be asleep.
*Alastor*: * I was. Light sleeper when it comes to you touching what’s mine.*
He sits up fully, eyes locked on Angel’s.
*Alastor*: * Now. You’re going to tell your Daddy that if he wants a show, he can buy a ticket like everyone else. And you’re going to walk out that door and not come back until you’re yourself again. Understood?*
Angel’s jaw clenches. Valentino’s fighting it.
But Alastor’s shadow tightens.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 2:44 PM.*
Angel rips free of the shadow and bolts.
*Angel*: *_ Daddy’s gonna kill me! Daddy’s gonna—
The door slams behind him.
Alastor sits there a second longer, listening for footsteps, for Valentino’s voice, for anything.
Nothing.
He sags back into the chair.
*Alastor*: __...Finally quiet.
He closes his eyes. Just for a minute.
He’s asleep in 30 seconds.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 2:46 PM.*
The air shifts.
A crackle of static, a flash of purple light.
Velvette steps out of it like she owns the place.
She looks at Lucifer on the couch. Still out cold. Still vulnerable.
*Velvette*: __...Jackpot.
She doesn’t bother with subtle. She bends down, loops an arm under Lucifer’s knees and shoulders, and lifts him.
*Velvette*: __ Don’t worry, sweetie. Daddy Valentino’s got a camera ready.
Another flash of purple.
They’re gone.
---
*Scene: Penthouse, 3:12 PM.*
Alastor wakes up to silence.
Too much silence.
He sits up straight, eyes scanning the room.
Couch is empty.
Blanket’s thrown to the floor.
Lucifer’s gone.
*Alastor*: __...Lucifer?
No answer.
He’s on his feet in an instant, cane forgotten, checking the bedroom, the bathroom, the balcony.
Empty.
He comes back to the living room, breathing sharp.
*Alastor*: __ Husk! Charlie!
No one answers. They’re still out running errands.
His eyes land on the floor.
A faint purple scorch mark. Teleportation residue.
Velvette.
*Alastor*: __...You’ve got to be kidding me.
He grabs the cane, slams it down hard enough to crack the wood.
*Alastor*: __ If you hurt him—
He stops himself.
Then he moves. Fast. Out the door, down the hall.
*Alastor*: _* I’m coming for you, Vees. And you’re giving him back.
---
*Scene: Valentino’s Studio, 3:41 PM.*
The teleport residue wasn’t subtle.
Velvette’s magic smells like cheap perfume and burnt ozone. Alastor follows it straight to the service entrance of Valentino’s studio, past the “Closed for Filming” sign and the two guards who don’t even get a chance to scream.
*Alastor*: *_...Sloppy.
He kicks the door open.
The studio’s dark. Hot lights off. But the main stage is lit, and there’s Lucifer on a gurney, still out cold, with a camera on a crane pointed right at him.
*Alastor*: __ Let him go.
Valentino’s voice echoes from the booth above.
*Valentino*: __ Oh, Al! Right on time! I was wondering when you’d show up for your close-up.
The floor under Alastor’s feet shifts. Metal bars slam up from the ground, sealing him in a cage before he can move three steps.
*Alastor*: *...Really?*
*Velvette*: __ Really. You’re predictable when it comes to him.
Vents hiss above the cage.
A thick, sweet-smelling gas starts pouring down.
*Alastor*: * Sleep gas? You’re using sleep gas on me?*
*Valentino*: _* Can’t have you ruining the shot, darling. We need you groggy for part two.
Alastor grips the bars, grin tightening.
*Alastor*: * You have no idea what you just did.*
*Valentino*: * Oh, I do. I get the Radio Demon knocked out, Lucifer on camera, and the ratings go through the roof when you wake up and realize you couldn’t save him.*
The gas is thick now. Alastor’s vision swims.
*Alastor*: * If he wakes up scared—*
*Valentino*: * He won’t. He’s out for hours. Just like you’re about to be.*
Alastor’s knees hit the floor. He fights it, but the gas is fast. Too fast.
*Alastor*: *...Charlie’s gonna hate you.*
*Valentino*: * She’ll love the show.*
Alastor’s eyes close.
The cage goes quiet.
---
*Scene: Studio Floor, 3:44 PM.*
Valentino steps out of the booth, grinning.
*Valentino*: * Rolling in 5. Let’s get the Morningstar awake and get our hero to beg on camera.*
Velvette taps the cage with her heel.
*Velvette*: * Sweet dreams, Alastor.*
---
*Scene: Valentino’s Studio, 3:51 PM.*
The gas is strong. Meant for demons twice Alastor’s size.
It still isn’t enough.
Alastor wakes up 7 minutes in, head pounding, lungs burning, but conscious.
*Alastor*: *...Amateurs.*
Sleep gas works better if you don’t make it smell like bubblegum and malice. He’s built a tolerance to worse in the 30s.
The cage bars are cold under his hands. Valentino didn’t bother with shadow-resistant wards.
Rookie mistake.
*Alastor*: * Let’s fix that.*
His shadow surges. It slips through the gaps, coils around the lock, and snaps it with a sound like a gunshot.
The door swings open.
Alastor steps out, quiet, eyes locked on the stage.
Lucifer’s still on the gurney. Still out. Camera’s rolling.
Valentino’s voice crackles through the speakers: *“Rolling! Wake him up slow, Velvette, I want that disorientation!”*
*Alastor*: * You’re not touching him.*
He moves.
Velvette turns, eyes widening.
*Velvette*: * He wasn’t supposed to—*
Alastor’s cane connects with the camera first. Glass shatters, the feed dies with a pop.
*Alastor*: * No one films him without my permission.*
Valentino curses from the booth. Spotlights snap on, and two more cages drop from the ceiling behind Alastor.
*Valentino*: * Grab him! Before he reaches the Morningstar!*
Alastor doesn’t run.
He smiles.
*Alastor*: * Too late.*
---
*Scene: Valentino’s Studio, 3:53 PM.*
Valentino slams his hand on the lockdown switch.
*Valentino*: * Fine! If I can’t have the shot, no one gets out! Lock it down!*
Steel shutters slam down over the doors. The service entrance seals with a screech. Alarms start blaring, red lights flashing.
Valentino’s goons don’t stick around for round two with Alastor. They bolt for the emergency exits on the lower level—exits Alastor didn’t block.
*Velvette*: *...Valentino, you idiot, he’s right there!*
*Valentino*: * And he can’t get out! We’ll wait him out, gas him again, get the footage later!*
They’re gone a second later, sprinting for the tunnel.
Alastor doesn’t chase them.
He’s already at the gurney.
*Alastor*: * Lucifer.*
Lucifer’s still out cold, breathing steady but deep. The gas they used on him was stronger than what they hit Alastor with.
The shutters seal with a final, echoing clang.
Silence falls.
Just the hum of the dead cameras, the red emergency lights, and the two of them.
Alastor checks the lockdown panel. Reinforced. Shadow-proofed.
*Alastor*: *...Clever.*
He looks back at Lucifer.
*Alastor*: * Looks like it’s just you and me, Luci.*
He drags a chair over, sits beside the gurney, cane across his knees. The grin’s gone.
*Alastor*: * When you wake up, we’re having words about wandering off with teleporting women.*
He keeps his eyes on the door.
*Alastor*: * And about making me break out of cages in the middle of the afternoon.*
---
*Scene: Valentino’s Studio, 4:12 PM.*
The lockdown panel is reinforced. Shadow-proofed.
Alastor stares at it for 3 seconds.
*Alastor*: *...Cute.*
He slams his cane against it. Once. Twice.
The third time, his shadow tears through the metal, ripping the wiring out with a shower of sparks. The shutters groan and start to rise.
Alastor’s at Lucifer’s side in an instant, checking his pulse, his breathing.
*Alastor*: * Luci? Lucifer, wake up.*
Nothing. Lucifer’s breathing is steady, but he’s dead to the world. Valentino’s goons hit him with double the dose they used on Alastor.
*Alastor*: *...Stubborn idiots.*
He scoops Lucifer up, careful, and moves for the exit before anyone can re-engage the lockdown.
---
*Scene: Hotel Lobby, 1 Month Later.*
Lucifer still hasn’t woken up.
Alastor’s been at his bedside for 29 days straight. Husk made him eat once. Charlie made him sleep on the couch twice. That’s it.
*Husk*: * He’s stable, Al. Doc said the gas was strong, but there’s no brain damage. He’ll wake up when he wakes up.*
*Alastor*: * I know.*
His voice is flat. Quieter than usual.
*Alastor*: * I just need him to wake up mad at me. That means he’s okay.*
Charlie squeezes his shoulder.
*Charlie*: * He will be. You got him out. That’s what matters.*
Alastor doesn’t answer. He just adjusts the blanket over Lucifer’s shoulders and keeps watching.
*Alastor*: * When you wake up, Luci, we’re never setting foot in a studio again. So help me.*
*Scene: Hotel, 2:17 AM.*
Everyone’s asleep.
Charlie’s passed out on the couch with a blanket halfway on the floor. Husk’s in his chair, snoring. Alastor finally fell asleep in the chair beside Lucifer’s bed an hour ago, after sitting there for 30 days straight.
The window doesn’t break.
It doesn’t need to.
A small canister rolls in through the ventilation duct, silent, matte black. It hisses to life the second it hits the floor.
Sleep gas.
But this isn’t the cheap stuff Valentino used in the studio. This is concentrated, modified, tagged with a demonic signature that locks onto Lucifer’s specific magic.
Valentino’s voice is a whisper through the canister’s speaker, recorded and left on a loop.
*Valentino*: * Sleep tight, Morningstar. Let’s make it a long one. A year should do it. Can’t have you interfering with Daddy’s plans.*
The gas fills the room. It bypasses everyone else.
It finds Lucifer.
Lucifer’s face twitches in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake. His breathing slows. Too slow.
Alastor’s eyes snap open 8 seconds too late.
*Alastor*: *...No.*
He’s on his feet, lunging for the canister, but the gas is already done. The dose is already in Lucifer’s system.
*Alastor*: * Lucifer!*
No response.
Husk stirs. Charlie mumbles and rolls over. Neither of them smell it. Valentino made sure of that.
Alastor kills the canister with his shadow, crushing it into the floor until it’s silent.
But the damage is done.
*Alastor*: *...Valentino.*
He looks back at Lucifer.
Pale. Peaceful. Not waking up.
*Alastor*: * A year?*
His grip on the cane is white-knuckled.
*Alastor*: * You just made this personal.*
*Scene: Hotel Lobby, 7:03 PM. Day 31 of Lucifer’s sleep.*
The TV flickers on by itself.
Valentino’s face fills the screen. Grinning. Behind him, a timer: *364 days, 23 hours, 58 minutes.*
*Valentino*: * Hey, Al! Miss me?*
Charlie jolts awake. Husk goes for his bottle. Alastor doesn’t move from Lucifer’s bedside.
*Valentino*: * Just wanted to check in on our sleeping beauty. Still out cold, huh? Year-long dose, Al. Nothing you can do about it. I made sure of that.*
*Valentino*: * You can sit there and glare all you want. By the time he wakes up, the Hotel’s mine, the ratings are mine, and you’ll have wasted 365 days staring at a guy who can’t even hear you.*
Alastor’s jaw tightens.
*Valentino*: * Sweet dreams, Radio Demon. Try not to miss him too much.*
The screen cuts to static.
---
*Scene: Hotel, 2 Weeks Later.*
Everyone’s moved on with damage control. Everyone except Alastor.
He’s the only one who stays in Lucifer’s room now. He brings reports, eats there, sleeps in the chair. Talks when no one else is listening.
*Alastor*: *...Still stubborn, even asleep, huh?*
He adjusts Lucifer’s blanket.
*Alastor*: * When you wake up, I’m dragging you out of here for a week. No hotels. No Valentino. Just quiet.*
---
*Scene: Hotel Hallway, 3:41 AM. Day 45.*
Valentino’s drone drops another canister.
This one’s for Alastor.
The gas is different. Faster. Shorter duration. Designed to take him out for exactly 7 days. No lasting damage. Just enough time.
Alastor smells it a second too late.
*Alastor*: *...You’ve got to be—*
He collapses before he can reach the door.
---
*Scene: Hotel, 3 Days Later.*
Angel’s eyes are glazed over. Valentino’s voice is in his head, smooth and sugary.
*Valentino*: * Good boy, Angel. Just move them. Make it look natural. They’re friends, right? Friends cuddle when they’re sick.*
Angel drags Alastor’s unconscious body into Lucifer’s bed. Lays them side by side. Pulls the blanket up.
*Angel*: *...Sorry, boss.*
He leaves. The door clicks shut.
---
*Scene: Lucifer’s Room, 36 Hours Later.*
Lucifer stirs.
The gas is wearing off early. Residual demonic metabolism.
He wakes up groggy, disoriented, and immediately feels warmth against his side.
Alastor’s there. Out cold, but breathing. Close.
Lucifer doesn’t think. He just shifts, curling against him on instinct, arm draping over Alastor’s chest.
*Lucifer*: *...Al?*
No answer. Not yet.
But he doesn’t let go.
*Scene: Valentino’s Studio, 4:12 PM. Day 48.*
Valentino’s watching the feed.
Or rather, he’s trying to.
The camera in Lucifer’s room went dark 12 hours ago. “Technical difficulties.” Convenient. Angel’s been avoiding his calls.
*Velvette*: * You’re gonna break that remote.*
Valentino’s grip on it is white-knuckled.
*Valentino*: * Angel said they were in the bed. He said it looked natural. Romantic, even. The narrative should’ve been perfect by now.*
*Velvette*: * And?*
*Valentino*: * And I just got a text from Husk. One photo.*
He throws his phone across the room.
It’s a still image: Lucifer, awake, cuddled against Alastor’s side. Alastor still out cold. Lucifer’s arm around him like he belongs there.
No fear. No struggle. No “help, I’m being held captive.”
Just… that.
*Valentino*: * He’s awake! He’s supposed to be out for a year! And he’s not mad! He’s not scared! He’s—*
*Velvette*: * Cuddling him.*
*Valentino*: * I spent 45 days and a custom-engineered gas bomb to get them in a bed together and now he’s _cuddling_ him like it was his idea!*
He paces, muttering.
*Valentino*: * The ratings were supposed to tank when Lucifer woke up hysterical! The audience was supposed to see the Morningstar break! Not… not this domestic nonsense!*
*Velvette*: * Maybe your gas made him clingy.*
*Valentino*: * That’s not better! That’s worse! Now they look like a pair and I look like the guy who helped them get together!*
He slams his fist on the desk.
*Valentino*: * Fine. If they want to play house, we’ll give them a real reason to panic.*
*Velvette*: * What now?*
Valentino’s grin comes back. Meaner this time.
*Valentino*: * If I can’t break them with sleep gas, I’ll break them with what happens when they wake up in front of Hell.*
*Scene: Lucifer’s Room, 6:03 PM. Day 49.*
Lucifer’s been awake for 8 hours. He hasn’t let go of Alastor once.
He notices the red light first. Tiny. Blinking in the smoke detector above the door.
*Lucifer*: *...You’ve got to be kidding me.*
He sits up slow, careful not to jostle Alastor. His eyes narrow.
*Lucifer*: * Valentino.*
He knows that model. He installed them himself in the 1920s for a studio he burned down.