Chapter Text
What a miserable f*cking week.
Now don’t get Lucifer wrong, the week had gone swell. In theory.
He was finally staying at the hotel – part time, but 4 days out of seven wasn’t half bad, in fact it was over half good in his books, that’s how math works, right? – and he was participating in Charlie’s redemption activities (just for funsies); workshops, talks, team building, the whole shebang! All coinciding with his efforts to help with the finishing touches to the hotel reconstruction.
Less so that last one now that that prick Alastor was back. Lucifer had got some good work in while the bastard had still been blessedly dead, but he’d really prefer not to spend more time than necessary in the overlord’s irritating company, if that’s all the same to him, so Lucifer had begrudgingly backed off a bit in his interior design and architectural roles. Besides, on top of Alastor’s grating personality and sharp-edged smile, just hanging around the cannibalistic deer always left the fabric of his suit and hat feeling funny from the radio static and inky voodoo magic thick on the air. Get it? On air.
So yeah, talking, mingling, doing the ol’ one-two-one convos on the reg. Or sometimes even more than that; a one-five-one or even one time a one-nine-one, now that was really crazy.
On second thoughts, maybe he’s not using that expression right, that sounds like it could be a sex thing. Charlie had told him to be more careful about how he talked. Was this one of those times? Maybe? Surely not? He’d not talked to people in so long he didn’t even care at this point. Hell, he was so f*cking lonely before after-
But enough about that!
When he’s not at the hotel, he’s back at his sick hellish mansion, doing some sick hellish inventing of sick hellish rubber ducks. It’s his passion. His muse. It’s what he does best. He still can’t believe the fine yellow fellows were only invented recently in the grand scheme of things, but he had always been so fascinated by their real-life counter-quacks.
He liked making things. Ducks were things. Ducks could be made in a variety of colours! Shapes! Sizes! Functions! It all fit so well together. How could he ever get bored! How could he ever run out of ideas!
He had run out of ideas.
This had not become clear to Lucifer until earlier this week. Before yesterday, even.
It had been a Hotel Day, after a string of Not-Hotel Days.
He had been making like crazy that week, really had the experimental juices flowing, just duck after duck after duck. It had felt So Good to be back on it again. He’d been on a roll.
He was aware he’d fallen into a rut during those seven years. A duck rut. A long painful spiralling duck rut that ended in Cold Hard Miserable Failure. But now! Now he was back at it and better than ever! Charlie was back in his life. His daughter had fully fixed his brain with her optimistic, can-do attitude, all the rainbows and singing and dancing and being outside and not in the same room for months on end without seeing the hellfire of day. That was all in the past! Onward and upward, baby!
It had tied in beautifully with a Show-and-Tell day, actually. Just the thing he needed now that he was fully proud of his bright little creatures again. His ducks seemed to be the perfect thing to bring along. Whatever you Showed and Told was supposed to be a good display of your personality, your hobbies, your past, plans for your future, whatever you wanted to share with the group.
Charlie had brought in some doodles of the hotel she had been working on. Mood-boards of cool furniture she wanted to source rather than conjure magically, so that she could support local businesses across the pentagram. She wanted different rooms to exhibit different eras and styles. What a fabulous idea!
Lucifer was so proud of his little girl. Furniture shopping seemed like such a dad-daughter bonding moment too! Hopefully she would let him come with, if he asked her nicely – another session that they had gone over the week prior. Lucifer knew how to ask for things nicely already, but it was nice to be reminded that he’d been doing it right this whole time and not somehow saying the wrong thing, or heaven forbid, been rude!
Vaggie surprisingly had other sets of hair ribbons that she brought along. Less surprisingly, these were only Show-and-Tell items because Vaggie talked through the tears and slices in each one and the violent story slash battle that accompanied each one. Scary! Lucifer really hoped he was never at odds with his daughters darling girlfriend, because that was not a conflict he had any desire to start, no siree.
The surly barman, Husker, had brought in a worn deck of hand-illustrated playing cards, a prized set in his collection. The cleaner, Niffty, brought in a mildly horrifying sculpture composed entirely of dried bug body parts. She could have been a gifted entomologist if her primary focus wasn’t always cleaning.
Alastor brought out a monogrammed pocket handkerchief that he said his mother had stitched for him. Lame! (It hadn’t been lame at all, it had actually been really sweet. Lucifer had honestly gotten a bit choked up when the psycho told a nice story about how his mum taught him sewing as a kid, which had helped him stitch up his own wounds when his kills went slightly awry and the people he murdered got a nick on him, and he always thought of his mama during those moments when he lived to see another day because of her tutelage, until of course, the tragic day when he didn’t. Charlie’s face had twitched through a multitude of reactions across the span of that story, but she eventually settled for thanking Alastor for his openness and moving on. Lucifer subtly vanished the tissue he’d had to magic up.)
Angel, by contrast, was incredibly predictable. Lucifer had attended a couple of these meetings so far, and while he’d been shocked by the video the arachnid had shown the first time, going by the annoyed groans that echoed around the room, bringing his own sextapes was standard practice for the p*rnstar.
This week’s one was actually quite artistic, all things considered. The lighting had been real soft, projecting pale pinks, and soft yellows across Angel’s furs. Lucifer never knew where to look during these displays. Especially during the more err… adventurous ones. It was bad enough being able to hear it. This was the first one he’d fully watched, properly, with his eyes AND ears. In fact, it had barely been p*rn! All the angles were so innocent. Nothing visible below the waist. Just kissing and the implications of other stuff happening off camera. Light noises here and there, none of that fake, continuous moaning from before. It had Lucifer feeling kinda warm and fuzzy in a way he hadn’t felt since L-
And then it had been his own turn to Show-and-Tell!
Lucifer had gotten up to the front of the room, before the whole crew. He ignored all the eyes on him aside from Charlie’s, took his hat off and flipped it upside down like he’d seen those human magicians do. He started pulling out his best inventions from the week with a dramatic flourish.
A duck that glowed the nearer you got to your house keys. A duck that sang lullabies to help you get to sleep. A duck that could transcribe everything you said into morse code, which came stamped out on a long strip of paper from its mouth. A duck that was a magnet. A duck that doubled up as a wallet (full of his loose change and thus stuck to the magnetic duck). A duck that sprayed mace out it’s beak if you were attacked. A duck that sounded like the ocean, but, like during a storm, because he couldn’t get the waves to calm down. A duck that read your thoughts (“sh*t, f*ck, why are they staring at me? I’m presenting, of course they’re staring at me. Do they like my ducks? Is this good? Am I doing good? Does Charlie think my ducks are weird? Oh hells, she totally thinks they’re weird.”) A duck that printed the time across its rubber back, only, it couldn’t erase the previous set of numbers so would print them elsewhere, so now it was just a completely black duck, not that there’s anything wrong with a black duck! It just… can’t tell the time anymore. Is that racist? Or is it just a duck? A duck that does flips, but only when it’s not being perceived, so… well. A duck that vibrates. A duck that sings, no wait, he’s already done one of those. A duck that can’t be destroyed. A duck that can.
The ducks had piled around him and been flung across the room, the last one shattering on impact with a table lamp. He didn’t know when all that happened. But he must have been tossing them aside every time he summoned one. Some had duplicated. He didn’t know when the duplicator duck had come out of the hat, but it must have done. It never liked feeling left out. Was it just the ducks or was the room getting smaller?
He had ended up running out to the balcony above the front of the hotel for a breather. Then he’d stayed there in embarrassment until night had fallen. He had stayed all the way until he was watching Angel slink out the front doors towards the red light district. The spider had shot him a long glance over his shoulder and offered a light wave - a wiggle of his fingers, and a wink - before continuing on. The pale pink mink coat the young man wore swayed with the swagger in his top set of shoulders. Such a beautiful colour on him. It had Lucifer thinking about the video from earlier and the new flare of shame THAT brought along had finally convinced him to go back inside.
He'd had a heart to heart (oh, one TO one, totally pure and not a sex thing, score!) talk with Charlie about the Show-and-Tell session. He had apparently had a panic attack. And that’s super fine. And something they can totally manage. And work towards coping with. As-and-when it came up. Like, if he learnt the signs in his own body and mind, he could try to be aware when the feeling came back. He could take a moment to identify the feeling. And step away from the triggers. And everything would be fine!
Healing was a process. Panic attacks were normal. Sometimes people just Did That. And it wasn’t bad or wrong. Charlie said, he should let her know if it happened again, so they could talk through it.
Lucifer didn’t have it in him to tell her that the panic attack feeling was never really off.
He was just kind of...
Like This.
All. The. Time.
Lucifer had then gone back into the rec room where they hosted the group therapy and portalled out all the ducks. The other residents of the hotel had been forced to leave soon after him apparently because the ducks started duplicating at an impossible rate. The door had nearly burst off its hinges when he’d opened it, ducks pouring out into the hallway like an avalanche.
Niffty had popped out from a small hoard of harmonising ducks, smiling wide and feral. He had tried to apologise to her for letting her get crushed in his absence, but she’d just let a peel of giggles ring out and thanked him for the pain. He hadn’t known what to say to that, so just let her scurry off into the darkness.
Even now, he’s sure he wasn’t quite able to clear all the ducks from the room. They’ll be finding those dearest disaster in every nook, cranny and in between sofa cushions for weeks.
Which led him to now, really.
Lucifer had kind-of-maybe-sort-of spent the rest of the night and the whole of this day moping.
He didn’t want to go back to the mansion and face the mess he’d left behind by warping all the ducks back. And he didn’t trust himself not to incinerate the whole lot of them with his incinerator duck.
They didn’t deserve his rage. It wasn’t their fault he’d co*cked up designing them all. His babies were imperfect, but they were his.
So he’d stayed slumped over on his bed at the hotel, idly rearranging his carnival themed furniture and making it dance like that one Disney film Charlie had shown him recently.
This suited him for all of a few minutes before the sadness kicked back in and all the pieces thumped back to the ground.
There’d been an annoyed shout from down the hall. Moments later Charlie had knocked hurriedly to ask if everything was alright in there. He’d managed to get up long enough to poke his head out and offer a half-hearty thumbs up.
She’d asked if he wanted to join them all for mealtimes that day, but he’d feigned some other obligations. There was no way he would face the others until they’d forgotten his embarrassment. Certainly he didn’t want to bump into Alastor, not from this new rock bottom at least. The others were nice but Alastor, Alastor would make some snide remark. He needed to be mentally prepared for that. This was mental fortification time, not social time!
Lucifer could tell by his daughter’s wide understanding eyes that she knew he was fibbing about his busy To-Do List, but she just smiled sincerely at him and said she hoped he might have time tomorrow.
And that made him feel infinitely worse. Yay!
It was way past midnight, and he could finally find the strength to heave himself out of his room.
The rest of the hotel were abed or minding their own business in their rooms. Alastor was hopefully in his radio tower or something – who knew if that freak needed sleep ever. Even Husk was missing behind the bar, night shift over and the breaks Charlie had forced Alastor to give him in full swing these days.
Lucifer slumped over to the front of the bar and reached over the counter for a bottle. He needed to shimmy up onto it slightly to reach, pushing off the footrest of one of the bar stools to finally get it in grasp.
“Whatta view ta come down to, short king. And I though’ MY ass was quarter-bounce worthy!”
Lucifer would have leapt into the air in shock, but he was currently partially horizontal so just winced as his knees jerked forward into the unforgiving wood of the bar. His foot got tangled in the leg of the stool and started pulling him backwards while his hand slipped on the neck of the bottle.
Before it – or he – could fall, a pale hand shot out of his periphery to catch the bottle, while two others’ clasped gently around his hips. Another curled around his ankle to free it from the twisted stool.
“Sorry, your majesty. Couldn’ resist a tease.”
Sinking back to the floor, Lucifer let out a deep exhale. The panic feeling had spiked within him, but calmed just as quickly. The changes gave him whiplash which lanced his heartrate again, but it was fine.
It was just Angel Dust, Lucifer. Chill the f*ck out.
Angel’s smile had been flirty but by the time Lucifer looked properly up at him (and up and up) it was wavering slightly. His fur was a bit damp, tufting a little in places where it hadn’t fully dried. He looked warm and relaxed though and was wearing a fluffy lilac bathrobe, so he’d likely just had a shower rather than been caught out in the rain or whatever. Probably for the best, sometimes the rain down here was … acidic, to say the least.
The hands on Lucifer’s hips retreated hastily, and Lucifer hadn’t realised he’d been leaning into the touch until it was gone.
“No worries, Angel Dust. I’m just jumpy tonight.” He attempted a smile but even he felt the pathetic lilt to it. “Trying not to get caught thieving from Husk’s domain, ha ha.”
Thankfully, Angel went with it. He grinned, gold tooth glinting in the low lamp light. He popped the cap of the bottle still in hand and took a long swig. The arachnid then held it out to Lucifer. “I won’t tell if you don’t, suga’.”
Lucifer was certainly game after the week he’d had.
He took his own sip and coughed slightly. The spots on his cheeks glowed hotter. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to drinking – he had done A LOT of drinking in the past – it was more that he’d never really drunk in company before. Actually, he’d prefer not to delve into that right now. It was odd to feel eyes on him whilst drinking, and well, he was nervous for some reason. Maybe he should file this feeling away to talk to Charlie about. Was this one of the panic signals?
“Since this is high level moonshine,” Angel continued, leaning against the bar top and inspecting the bottle between them, “enough to kill a living person in one bottle from what I can tell, I can only assume you’re drinkin’ ta forget. Care to share your woes, your majesty? I been told I’m a good lis’na’.”
The spider’s expression was playful, but there was something genuine about his eyes. Lucifer had never really noticed them before, aside from the fact they were heterochromic. They were honestly beautiful up close, dark and light and glowing softly.
Hastily, Lucifer looked away. He hopped up onto a stool to busy himself with something. It didn’t put him on level with Angel, even draped as the sinner was across some of the bar, but the distance was far less. Lucifer felt closer to him now that they were nearly eye level.
“Urmm…” he cleared his throat.
Why was talking so awkward sometimes? Surely it would be easier to just project thoughts immediately without the whole brain to mouth filter thing getting in the way. But then again, that’s what the Thoughts Duck had been for, and that had gone oh-so-swimmingly.
He tried again.
“You were there.” Nailed it. “Earlier, like… When. When the ducks?”
Lucifer did not mean for that to come out as a question. This was terrible. He should quit before it’s too late. His room was just a zap away. He could just go. And never come out again. And everything would be grooooovy.
“Yeah…That sure was a lot there.”
f*cking hellstorm.
Just as sparks were licking at his palms ready to portal the f*ck away to the darkest deepest pit he could remember, a hand patted the top of his and they fizzled out. The hand lingered.
“For you, I mean. That seemed like you had a bit ova moment.” Angel was looking intently at their hands too, when Lucifer shot a glance up. “I dunno if I can fully relate, but sometimes when there’s a lotta lights and sounds, I getta little funny in the head. Usually jus’ ignore it though, when I’m onna shoot. It’s always onna shoot.” An irritated huff of air sent Angel’s nearly dry hair bobbing above his forehead. It looked so soft. Lucifer had a strong urge to pet it and smooth out the wrinkle between Angel’s brows. Repress, repress, repress. “That’s prob’ly bad advice. What I’m tryna say is, sh*t happens. No big deal. We move on.”
Angel took another chug from the bottle and passed it back.
Lucifer took a smaller sip of his own and then – in a move that was likely his wisest in a long while – he slid it out of their reach along the bar.
It overshot and smashed on the floor.
He sighed.
“I just wanted to make something interesting. Something Charlie might have been proud of me for.”
The hand squeezed his comfortingly.
“Hey now, the ducks was real neat, I swear! We were all plenty impressed. Just ‘coz some didn’ work at all, doesn’ mean they weren’t still good or entertaining, your majesty.”
Frowning, Lucifer ran a stressed hand down his face. “They all worked, per se. Some just weren’t well thought out, I guess.”
“Well, sure, all but that vibratin’ one, anyhow. That one didn’ do sh*t. But yeah, the others did some cool stuff. That’s something. If you got ev’rything right first try, it’d be boring.”
Lucifer’s brain skipped its record. He looked up at Angel sharply, spinning around in his chair to face him fully.
He was mindful not to disturb the contact they had going though. In fact, he accidentally-maybe-on-purpose pressed his knee into Angel’s bathrobed thigh.
But on to important matters-
“The vibrator duck works,” he said defensively.
Angel lifted his brow in exasperated amusem*nt. “It doesn’ even vibrate.”
“It does too vibrate!” Lucifer pouted. “How do you even..?”
The duck in question appeared before his eyes upon a fine, white-furred palm.
He knew he’d been missing some when he cleaned earlier! There hadn’t been any other vibrating ducks when he’d banished them all back to the mansion, so the duplicator duck hadn’t got to it yet either.
“I managed to catch the lil’ guy when you flung him my way earlier. Seemed cute. Useful. Only it didn’ vibrate and there’s no on button.” The spider tapped it gently on its precious yellow head idly. “Well, it vibrated briefly, but that wasn’ even time to get my knickers off, baby. Wha’s a guy to do with a toy like that?”
What?
…
Oh.
Oooooh.
Oh my.
Lucifer hadn’t experienced this big of a brain glitch in a while. Full blank. Full nothing.
And then.
Well.
Those were some pretty nice mental images up there.
Oh my.
“It was- You were using it for- I never really- And the- It’s a duck but- Knickers off?!”
The last part was rather embarrassingly squeaky. Rather rubber duck like, if you will. He cleared his throat. He really wished he hadn’t smashed that moonshine now.
Angel’s stare was penetrating.
Intense! He meant intense!
“You said it was a vibrator.”
“It’s a duck that vibrates.” Lucifer insists, desperately. It’s warm in the lobby. By the bar. Under Angel’s hand. It’s warm staring at the duck that Angel might have put somewhere VERY interesting.
“A vibrator duck that doesn’t vibrate.”
Lucifer felt himself tomatoing more by the moment, but now it was getting sad again. This was f*cking embarrassing.
Why did he even include this duck in his presentation. He’d been getting pretty frantic towards the end, and it had been the first thing he thought of. He thought it might have cheered him up if it hadn’t been so painfully still-
“AduckthatvibrateswhenI’mhappy.”
He sucked in a breath and held it. Breathing exercises. Charlie said they could help. Maybe. Angel was looking down (and down and down) at him, concerned. He must have stood up at some point.
“I’m sorry, suga’, wha’ was that? Take your time, I see yer gettin’ worked up again. Breath out, slow. That’s it, baby.”
Lucifer let himself relax with the air he releases, but it’s more from emotional exhaustion than anything. He’s just so tired of keeping all this inside.
His cheeks were full beacons now.
His eyes stay fixed on the floor.
“It’s a duck that vibrates, but only when I’m happy, Angel. I’m- I’ve not been- I…”
“Oh hunny.”
A hand cups his jaw so delicately. It brings him up to look into Angel’s eyes and they are so Full, of stuff Lucifer can’t even comprehend right now, but they’re shiny and sympathetic and warm. Lucifer feels something in himself give just a little.
A noise interrupts him.
Like the purr of a cat.
Angel starts, the hand against Lucifer’s face jerking slightly.
They both turn to look down at one of Angel’s forgotten hands, still suspended in the air between them. The one holding the vibrating duck.
The vibrating duck that’s actually vibrating. Humming away against Angel’s palm.
“Oh.” Lucifer says faintly.
“’Oh’ indeed,” but the smirk on Angel’s face is wicked sharp and promising satisfaction. “If you’re up for it, your majesty, I do believe we can find a way for this invention o’ yours to keep us both VERY happy. What do you think, short king?”
Oh my.
What a question. What a thought.
There was only really one response he could conjure to that.
The only trouble was expressing it.
Come on Lucifer. Words. Words, out loud.
Angel smile had turned fond. Patient. What a gem.
The duck was still vibrating, cheerfully.
Lucifer’s mouth snapped open.
“LET’S VIBE!”
Nailed it.
