Chapter Text
Yes, Lucifer's decision to drink the day before the extermination was undeniably ill-advised. He should have waited until after the impending event to indulge. However, in a display of defiance or perhaps mere recklessness, he chose to disregard prudence and indulge in a few drinks.
Indeed, it seemed Lucifer had imbibed more than he could handle. As he surveyed the chaotic scene before him, the clamor of battle and collapsing buildings assaulted his senses, prompting a groan of dismay to escape his lips.
Struggling to maintain his balance, Lucifer felt the weight of his hangover bearing down on him as he witnessed an exorcist aiming their weapon at the moth-like demon. With a determined effort, he lifted his arm, blinking away the haze of his hangover. Wings erupted from his back, tearing through the fabric of his shirt as feathers scattered into the air. Flapping his wings, Lucifer propelled himself forward, swooping in to intervene just in time. Despite the blur in his vision and the spinning in his head, he refused to let his daughter see him in such a state.
With a forceful shove, Lucifer sent the angel tumbling away, only to find himself collapsing onto the grimy ground. Pain shot through his hand as it landed on a sharp rock, causing him to inhale sharply and quickly rub the injured spot with his gloved hand. Despite the discomfort, he rose to his feet with determination, accepting the weapon Vaggie tossed him.
Balancing precariously on the exorcist's wing, Lucifer watched as they struggled to flee. With a swift movement, he drove his boot into the feathery mass, preventing their escape. The glint of the angelic spear caught his eye, flashing in the dim light of hell. Suddenly, his head spun again, the groan escaping his lips drowned out by the chaos around him. In his dizziness, he fumbled and dropped the spear, gasping in pain as it landed on his foot.
Vaggie rushed over, swiftly pulling the weapon from Lucifer's foot. With a determined expression, she drove the blade into the angel's form, a satisfied grin spreading across her face as they groaned in agony before succumbing to death. Meanwhile, Lucifer focused on steadying his breathing, his wings drooping at his sides.
"You okay, Sir?" Vaggie inquired, her concern evident in her voice.
"Yep, just a small... headache," Lucifer replied with a strained chuckle, accompanied by an awkward grin.
With a determined grit of his teeth, Lucifer brushed aside the searing pain shooting through his foot, his gaze narrowing into a focused intensity. Ignoring the glistening golden liquid staining his boot, he pivoted on his heel and launched himself back into the fray with a renewed sense of purpose.
His wings unfurled with a powerful beat, propelling him forward with unparalleled speed and agility. As he soared through the air, Lucifer's eyes locked onto his next target: another exorcist, their weapon poised for attack.
With a primal roar echoing through the chaos of battle, Lucifer descended upon his adversary like a vengeful angel of death. His movements were a blur of calculated precision and relentless aggression as he closed the distance with lightning speed.
The exorcist's eyes widened in alarm as Lucifer's weapon descended upon them with unrelenting force, the clash of steel ringing out in a symphony of violence. With each strike, Lucifer's resolve burned brighter, fueled by the primal instinct to protect and defend.
He huffed atop the dead angel, his hands gripping the ground as chatter surrounded the atmosphere. There weren't many angels left; they had all retreated, leaving Adam to fend for himself and a couple of other angels. A smile curled onto his lips as he watched his daughter fight Lute with zero struggle. However, her gaze suddenly darted to her dad, fear plastered onto her face in an instant.
"Watch out!" she called out, throwing her weapon at the angel and dashing towards her fallen father. Confusion clouded the king's mind, but it didn't last long as Lucifer struggled to stand. His eyes widened at the sudden searing pain striking the side of his chest. Looking down, he saw a spear lodged in his abdomen, golden liquid leaking from the wound. Blood dripped from his mouth as he coughed, struggling to comprehend the situation through the haze of agony.
"Dad!" his daughter's scream pierced through the chaos, her voice blurred by the pain engulfing Lucifer's senses. He fell to the ground, the spear yanked out with a sickening squelch. With slow, trembling movements, he reached towards the wound. His hand was accompanied by another, applying pressure to the wound. Through the haze of agony, he heard someone grunting as the angel fell to the ground with a thud.
Alastor helped him upright, his hand staying atop Lucifer's, offering both support and reassurance, surprisingly.
"Don't worry, dear, I'll take care of him—get back to protecting your hotel," Alastor's voice cut through the tumult, his tone firm as he scooped Lucifer off his feet. Too hurt and hungover to protest, Lucifer remained silent, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Please... be careful... I can't bear to lose him, I just got him back!" Charlie pleaded, her voice strained with emotion.
"Don't worry, princess, he will be fine," Alastor reassured her as he carried Lucifer into the hotel. She nodded, returning to Vaggie's side, her gaze lingering on her father with lidded eyes as the demon disappeared from view.
Alastor gently laid Lucifer's limp body onto his velvety duvet, the sunlight streaming through the curtains casting a warm glow around the room. Little grunts and whimpers escaped from between Lucifer's lips as he lay there, his face contorted in pain. With a careful hand, the demon peeled open Lucifer's shirt, revealing the wound on his abdomen. As he examined the injury, Lucifer's wings fluttered weakly, feathers falling to the carpeted floor with each movement.
In his open hand, Alastor summoned bandages, their presence a comforting assurance in the tense atmosphere of the room. Humming a soothing melody under his breath, he began to gently wrap the bandages around Lucifer's wounded abdomen, his touch tender against the supple skin of the fallen angel's chest. With each careful movement, his fingers traced along Lucifer's alabaster skin, the sensation a delicate caress amidst the disturbance of pain and uncertainty.
Lucifer's groan pierced the air, his eyes tightly shut against the pain that pulsed through his body. He tried to resist the sensation of Alastor's rough fingers trailing across his skin, but it proved futile as a soft moan involuntarily escaped his lips, causing a blush to rise to his cheeks.
Alastor's grin widened as he skillfully wrapped the bandage around the king's nimble body. The scent of Lucifer's golden angelic blood was intoxicating to the deer demon, tempting him to indulge his primal instincts. With a flinch, he compelled himself to resist the urge to sink his teeth into Lucifer's pallid skin.
The king exhaled deeply, feeling beads of sweat rolling down his face as he gripped the sheets in agony. Above him, the demon applied pressure to his wound, each touch sending waves of pain through his body. His wings twitched involuntarily as he felt Alastor peel his shirt off his trembling body, tossing it aside. With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer's attire transformed into something more comfortable, offering a brief reprieve from the discomfort of his injuries.
He reached out weakly, his fingers grazing the sleeve of Alastor's coat, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion and pain washed over him.
Alastor watched intently as Lucifer's breathing gradually calmed, each exhale a testament to the battle he had just endured. The room was bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a gentle warmth upon them both. As Lucifer's tense muscles began to relax, his features softened, the lines of pain on his face easing into a more serene expression.
The demon couldn't help but feel a surge of concern and... something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, as he observed the king's vulnerable state. Despite their adversarial relationship, there was a flicker of empathy within Alastor, a recognition of shared mortality in the face of danger.
With careful movements, Alastor adjusted the bandages around Lucifer's wound, ensuring they were secure and wouldn't cause further discomfort. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the playful taunts and sharp banter they often exchanged.
As he worked, Alastor found himself lost in thought, pondering the events that had led them to this moment. The frenzied chaos of battle seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the quiet intimacy of their shared space.
Though Lucifer's grip on consciousness was tenuous at best, Alastor couldn't shake the feeling of... something stirring within him. It was a complex mix of emotions, tangled and undefined, yet undeniably present.
Finally, with the bandages secure and Lucifer settled, Alastor leaned back, allowing himself a moment of respite. The room was filled with a palpable sense of stillness, broken only by the steady rhythm of their breaths.
Why had he helped him?
