Inspired by the end of Season One. Enjoy!
Miscalculated
Day One
The rise of the elevator felt like it was taking forever. The new hotel was truly marvelous, and his suite on the top floor was spectacular. He hadn't expected to get a new radio tower along with it, but Charlie always had a way of surprising him. It was all quite lovely, and he had the best view. Alastor just wished he was in a position where he could actually enjoy it.
He willed himself to stand straight in the elevator, refusing to lean against the walls or even on his cane, not wanting the machine to stop for someone else and have them see him in such a state. He just needed to get to his room, to get away from the peering eyes of others. The Vees had attempted an assault on the hotel, and where everyone managed to chase them off with their tails between their legs, they did managed to hurt Alastor with that shove into the eastern wall. Thankfully, they just didn't know it.
Alastor felt the blood from his chest injury as it soaked his undershirt. Blasted angel. The wound he received from Adam a month ago had been slow to heal to begin with. It took many bandages to get the bleeding to stop and even more stitches so the wound would start to close. He had hoped his return to the newly built hotel would allow him some peace as he waited for it to finish healing. This had been going well, for the most part. There was more work, but because it was all new, there weren't near as many issues on a day-to-day basis. Not to mention there weren't near as many demons dumb enough to attack the hotel.
The Radio Demon repressed a groan at the thought, eyes once again going to the floor number dial above the elevator doors. This was in part to his presence, but also in part to Lucifer's. The King of Hell had decided to move in to the hotel, becoming the hotel's workshop manager and activities coordinator. He had wanted to dabble into the kitchen, but Charlie decided to get a different employee to oversee the hotel's food, with Alastor occasionally showing up to make sure everything was running properly.
The elevator dinged and Alastor left, willing himself to walk normally as he made his way to his room. Lucifer worked closely with Charlie, and kept an ear out for any problems among the guests, just as Alastor did for the hotel and staff. The parallels between their jobs left them interacting far more than either of them wanted to. Under normal circumstances, the Radio Demon would have just stepped up to the challenge, pushing the king's buttons and enjoying the rise he'd get out of him. However, the annoyance he felt around Charlie's father was enough for the pain of his injury to jump out at him, forcing Alastor to restrain himself to just barely get under Lucifer's skin, if only to keep his injury secret.
Alastor made it to his room, locking the door behind him, his smile faltering as his stomach became soaked in blood, the metallic smell causing him to feel nauseous. The stitches probably popped, and he'd have to disinfect the injury again. He didn't even want to think about the hellter-oxide, let alone use the stuff. It was a useful disinfectant, however the burning pain it left behind was enough to keep Alastor down for what felt like ages. But, it was either that, or the angelic wound would get infected all too quickly.
He dug into the drawer of his bedside table, picking up the disinfectant and his suture kit and placing his cane by his bed. He then dragged his body to the bathroom, the corners of his eyes beginning to darken as he subconsciously started leaning forward into his free arm. Before he knew it, his legs gave under him and he landed on the floor with a thud. The shock of the landing caused a pathetic sound to escape him and his vision began to spin. The blood began to spill out, warm liquid outlining his body as his world plunged into darkness.
Lucifer felt dumb. This wasn't abnormal with his depression, but this time, he really felt stupid.
Earlier, when those overlords retreated, Lucifer jokingly offered the facility manager all of the materials his little shadow minions would need to repair the hotel. This was something he had done numerous times before, which Alastor had repeatedly declined, sometimes cursing the Ruler of Pride in the process. There was a weird sense of accomplishment Lucifer got from breaking the smiling freak's gentlemanly facade, but this was not the case today. In fact, the Radio Demon had accepted his offer before snapping his fingers to summon the creatures and leaving.
It was...odd, to say the least. So out of character for Alastor. Then again, throughout most of their interactions this past month, he felt Alastor was acting different from when they first met, but it wasn't until today that Lucifer could see how. It wasn't that the overlord had changed, or that Lucifer was getting used to Alastor's antics, like he initially thought. No, the truth of the matter was that Alastor had been going out of his way to be a much milder pain in the ass.
This is not what made Lucifer feel stupid, although it did make him rush the shadow creatures to get all the materials in place so he could conjure the repairs. No, Lucifer felt stupid because, once he was done, he decided to make a bee-line for the elevator and check on the hotelier. Every fiber in his being screamed at him, telling him that something was going on with Alastor. Insisting on fixing it.
He paced in the elevator, trying to come up with something he could even say to the overlord. He had tried convincing himself that this was just one of Alastor's games, but he just couldn't accept that. They hated each other. They were at each other's throats since they met, with Charlie being the only thing that stopped them from actually duking it out. There was no reason for Alastor to even think he could make Lucifer worry about him in any capacity.
Another part of him tried to say to leave him alone, to ride out the problem and enjoy the lack of a headache. Except, he couldn't. Alastor's shift in behavior put Lucifer on guard. The civility and professionalism Alastor carried was always accompanied by his sarcasm, ego and subtle insults that tried to pass themselves off as harmless observations. The severe lack of these three things left him on edge, and when Alastor accepted his help, with none of his usual demeanor present, Lucifer found that leaving it alone only made his anxiety sky-rocket.
When the elevator dinged, Lucifer took a giant breath and exited, turning right to get to Alastor's suite. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered to himself, suddenly forgetting half of the things he came up with on the ride up. He raised his cane and knocked on the door, waiting to hear some weird static or record scratch, only to be met with silence.
Lucifer bit his lip, briefly wondering if he should look for Alastor elsewhere before raising his cane again. He knocked a little harder this time, and moved his head closer to the door. At first, there was only silence. But then something else. Something small and weak.
It took a few moments and an even quieter sound for Lucifer to realize that it was a whimper.
With a heavy breath, Lucifer opened a portal and climbed through it, stepping into a room that was half fancy bedroom, half bayou swamp. He turned his head a few times, looking for the Radio Demon. He noticed his cane by the bed, but not the man usually holding it. He looked around a few more times, taking several seconds of overlooking the shape on the floor before he noticed that it was Alastor. "Oh! SHIT!" He yelled, running towards the bathroom and kneeling next to the unconscious form. "Hey! You okay?" He asked without thinking.
There was no response, not even another whimper. Alastor's face was losing its color, his blood was pooling around his torso and down towards his legs. His breathing was labored, and his expression was a mixture between contorted pain and looking ready to throw up. Bits of radio static and stations could be heard from him, but they were quiet, and the sounds were difficult for Lucifer to place.
Lucifer moved to shake his shoulder, only to retract at feeling of Alastor's blood seeping through his glove. He turned his hand over, staring at the sanguine liquid. The amount of it was alarming enough, and it began to trickle onto the king's white coat. This on its own was serious. But where he didn't know much about what made sinners healthy, Lucifer knew damn well that their blood shouldn't have shimmers of gold mixed into it.
That was so much worse. "Oh fuck," he said before looking back at Alastor, a big pit of panic starting to root into his stomach.
The king stood up, taking a few deep breaths. Lucifer looked down at the overlord for a second before opening a portal to his room, leaving it open as he dug through his belongings. It was barely any different than his workshop at the palace, save for the addition of a bed and a wardrobe with a sign above it that read: "NOT FOR DUCKS!"
Lucifer dug through his work table and pulled out a spool of thick, silver-shimmering thread and a long golden needle tucked into it. He then raced to the near-duck-less wardrobe and pulled out a large, gold and black cased first aid kit, a mortar and pestle, and a jumbo sized tote bag labelled: "IN CASE OF EDEN ROOT."
Items in hand, Lucifer ran back through the portal to Alastor's room and closed it behind him. He moved with haste, first manifesting a large white cloth and laying it out on the floor between the sitting area and Alastor's bed. He placed his equipment on the edge of the cloth before moving to the overlord himself. Kneeling down beside him, Lucifer turned Alastor so he was on his back. Then he hooked his arms under Alastor's shoulders, dragged him onto the cloth, and carefully set him back down on his back.
He manifested a large bowl of water and dumped it on Alastor's bloody floorboards before conjuring more water and some towels. Before returning, he noticed the suture kit and the bottle of hellter-oxide and grimaced. "Crazy son of a bitch. You should've told someone," the king said to the unconscious sinner. He shook his head after, reprimanding himself for getting distracted. There would be plenty of time to scold the hotelier when his eternal life wasn't in danger anymore.
Lucifer set these items down, removed his blood-stained coat and gloves, then went to the first aid kit to pull out some latex gloves. He removed Alastor's bow tie, gloves and coat, then began unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes widened at just how big a gash Alastor had received, as well as how many stitches he gave himself. He wasn't surprised to see some of them popped, less so that others were stretched out far enough to reopen the injury. He was more surprised that Alastor had been able to function normally for the past month, considering the wound probably looked worse than the day he got it.
Grabbing a towel and dipping it in the water, Lucifer got to work soaking up the excess blood on the overlord's chest. He thought about which angel could have inflicted this for all but five seconds, his eyes narrowing in disgust. It had to be Adam. After all, Alastor was in charge of fighting him, according to Charlie. Like the first man and vulgar pig would allow any demon to escape him unscathed.
Once the extra blood was taken care of, Lucifer grabbed tweezers and a small pair of medical shears. He cut and removed each stitch quickly and carefully, wanting to make this as painless as possible. He doubled-checked his work as he went along, making sure no loose thread fell into the wound before moving to the next batch of stitches. He had just finished removing the last of the old sutures on Alastor's stomach when a groan filled the room, radio static coming out a little louder.
Lucifer opened the tote bag, bringing out a glass bottle with a thick black liquid in it, then grabbing several bags with different dried leaves and berries in them. All while watching the overlord. He wasn't sure if he wanted Alastor to wake up or not, each outcome making him feel nervous. On the one hand, him staying unconscious was helpful in treating the injury but made Lucifer worry about whether he'd be able to recover at this point. On the other hand, if Alastor regained consciousness then his chances would be better, but Lucifer would have no idea how to handle the overlord who, in all likelihood, wouldn't react well to Lucifer's presence. Forget the King of Hell actually seeing him like this.
As he measured out all the leaves and berries he would need and put them in the mortar, Lucifer kept looking back to Alastor. This took him several minutes, but eventually he shook his head. If Alastor woke up, he would deal with it when it happened. So he pressed on, taking the bottle and pouring the liquid into the mortar until it was two-thirds of the way full. He crushed and mixed the concoction until it was a sickly green color. Grimacing, he set the mortar aside and put the ingredients away before pulling out the first aid kit again, grabbing a scalpel and pairing it with the tweezers and medical shears.
He grabbed a fresh towel and soaked it in the water, this time moving clean the injury itself. More groans and static filled the room, but he ignored them, thinking that it was just a subconscious response. That is, until a haggard and distorted sound rang through, briefly making Lucifer wonder if Alastor had a hostile pet elk.
"What are you doing here?" A deep distorted voice growled. Lucifer looked down at Alastor's face, seeing a forced jagged smile, blackened eyes that looked like they had red radio dials for pupils, and antlers that seemed to keep growing with each second.
This was one of the last things Alastor wanted to wake up to.
He drifted between being unconscious and being just conscious enough to be aware of his surroundings. He could feel someone cleaning his chest with cold water at one moment, removing his old stitches the next. It was only when the ones at his stomach were removed that he was consciously aware of what was going on and tried to will his eyes to open. Someone had found him. Was trying to take care of him. All well and dandy, depending on who found him. Of all the possibilities, Charlie would be the most favorable outcome. The girl was overly caring and would probably fret about him in every aspect, but she also respected his boundaries, and would be the most sympathetic of his situation.
But once Alastor opened his eyes and saw who was cleaning his injury, his anger came out in an instant, letting out a more animalistic sound than he would normally allow. "What are you doing here?" He growled.
Normally, startling Lucifer would be a boost to Alastor's ego, but his position made that feeling non-existent. Of all the people in the hotel to find him, Lucifer was among the last ones he'd want in his personal space, forget tend to his injuries.
Once the initial shock passed, Lucifer's face relaxed a little. "Oh good, you're up," the king said before grabbing a mortar and pestle, mixing some strange substance with the color of vomit. "With how much blood you lost, I thought maybe the Eden Root left your circulatory system in shock. But, you're still producing blood, so your chances are good," he said bluntly, looking back at the tools he had out.
More radio noises came from the overlord, his eyes widening for a moment, but his tight grin clenching tighter for a moment. "What are you going on about?" He snarled, trying to sit up.
The apple of Lucifer's cane forced him back down, using just enough force to keep the Radio Demon down, but not so much that he'd irritate the injury. "Don't," Lucifer ordered, now glaring at the hotelier. "I just cleaned up the excess blood, and I still need to take care of dead tissue and cure the contaminated blood. Besides, you can't afford to lose any more of it," he said, his voice even and level.
Alastor's glare didn't go away, and after a few moments, Lucifer let out an exasperated sigh. He turned and grabbed his white coat, showing the bloodied sleeve to the injured man. "Ya see all that sparkle?" He said, pointing at the blood in his coat. At first, Alastor thought the king was being obtuse, but when he looked at the blood, he noticed the gold shimmers Lucifer was trying to point out to him.
The king watched as Alastor's eyes widened and his ears pinned back. He tossed his coat aside before continuing. "Some angels mix their steel with the juices of the roots of the Tree of Eden. Gives their weapons that golden color," he told the overlord. Alastor looked back up at him, his shoulders tensed and his eyes narrowed again, but his horns did begin to shrink a little.
Lucifer sighed. "When they strike a soul, it fucks up with their regenerative abilities. Against a lesser soul, it would destroy their cells and eventually take their eternal afterlife. Because you regenerate faster and you've been taking as much care as possible with your injury, you've been able to avoid that so far. But I'll tell you now, if the wound isn't taken care of properly, you'll never recover from it. And as much as I wouldn't mind that," he said, leaning forward and putting a hand near his chest. "I'm not gonna tell Charlie that I let one of her friends die."
The statement caught Alastor by surprise, but Lucifer didn't move. He just stared at the overlord, waiting for a response of some kind. Alastor quickly considered his situation before letting out a breath. He laid his head down on the floor and turned it away from the king. He looked at Lucifer through the corner of his eye and gave him a small nod before looking away.
He heard a soft sigh of relief before hearing Lucifer grab his tools and start cutting out Alastor's dead and contaminated skin and muscle tissue. The Radio Demon did his best not to vocalize his discomfort or pain, and to his credit, the King of Hell tried to make it as quick as possible. Every time he cut away at another piece, he'd use a cold cloth to clean up any excess blood that came with it. It wasn't fast work, even when taking the size of Alastor's injury into consideration. But it was efficient, and he could see Lucifer checking on him every so often as he worked.
Lucifer turned around, removing a small, soft sponge from a plastic wrapper before plopping it into the sickly green mixture he had made. He looked back at Alastor. "Okay, fair warning," he sighed out, watching Alastor shift his gaze towards him while he grabbed the mortar and tweezers. "This will remove the Eden Root from your system with ease. But well," Lucifer cringed, "Let's just say, hellter-oxide is painless put next to it."
Radio distortion came from Alastor, who was now eyeing the medicine Lucifer had made him, his jaw clenched tightly. "Now," Lucifer breathed out, using the tweezers to grab the sponge and stir the thick liquid, "I need you to try to stay still and breathe as normally as possible. With how long you've had this injury, I need to be pretty generous with this stuff. Understand me?" Lucifer said, leaning back and watching Alastor for a response.
The overlord stared at the embodiment of pride for a few moments longer before letting out a heavy sigh. He clenched the cloth he was laid out on, closed his and took a deep breath before nodding. The seconds before were torture, but it was nothing compared to when the sponge actually made contact with his wound. A yell escaped him, his claws tearing the fabric he was gripping, and his back starting to arch up.
He felt a gloved hand keep his body pressed to the floor. "Hey! Come on, breathe! I know. I know it hurts, but ya gotta bear with me here," the King said, trying not to panic.
Hurt was too soft a word. If hellter-oxide felt like fire, then this antidote was a mixture of corrosive acid and electricity. The instant it made contact with the injury, it felt like every part of Alastor's body was being assaulted by it at once. The sensation took the air out of his lungs, made his stomach flip, and he could feel his heart working overtime against his chest. That was only after a small, singular application of it. The shock it left in its wake was terrifying.
Lucifer gave Alastor time to recompose himself and catch his breath. It was several moments before the Radio Demon nodded again, making a conscious effort to breathe as much as possible.
The king continued what he was doing, soaking the sponge in the medicine and using it to coat Alastor's injury, being sure to give the sinner a moment between each application so he could catch his breath. To his credit, he didn't scream again while Lucifer did this, and he only moved two more times, near the end of the end of it all.
When Lucifer was done, Alastor was panting and feeling nauseous. His eyes struggled to stay open, and his hands were now twitching at his sides, no strength left in their grip. He honestly looked worse than when Lucifer found him, which technically wasn't far off. Lucifer wouldn't wish the medicine on anyone, and to use so much was never ideal. But, it was the only surefire way to get rid of Eden Root, and Alastor's pain, though intense, would only be temporary.
He put the mortar aside and grabbed the silver spool. He grabbed the gold needle and threaded it. "Alright, now the stitching, then the bandages, then bed," he said more to himself than Alastor. The man rolled his head over anyway, looking at the suture Lucifer was preparing to use on him with narrowed eyes. "Spirit Suture," the king said, noticing Alastor's gaze. "Difficult to get the materials for, even harder to craft. It helps stimulate the regenerative process, and once an injury heals, it dissolves away," he explained before letting out a small laugh.
Alastor's eyes narrowed as Lucifer began sewing his injury closed. "Why did you make it?" He asked, his voice croaking out as he spoke.
The question caught Lucifer off guard, but he smiled to himself. "Because Charlie was preparing to fight on Extermination Day. I didn't want to take away from her victory, but I still wanted to help in some way. I figured top notch medical supplies would be the best way to go about it," he said.
He continued stitching the injury in silence and Alastor said nothing all throughout. The prick from needle and sensation of the thread was annoying, bizarre, yet strangely soothing. Alastor assumed the last feeling was because of its stimulating ability that the king mentioned, but found his mind clouding before he could dwell on any of it.
Lucifer tied the suture off at the end, cut it, then grabbed his first aid kit. He moved so he was kneeling closer to Alastor's head and shoulders. "Okay. I'm gonna help you sit up so I can dress your injury. Once that's done, I'll help you get in bed," he said.
Alastor groaned but nodded anyways. As Lucifer put his hands in place to help Alastor sit up, the Radio Demon let out a uneven breath. He would have preferred to do anything but move. However, the floor was uncomfortable, and he knew he couldn't get into bed on his own. So, jaw set, he used his remaining strength to sit up, using Lucifer to lean up against.
The King of Hell steadied Alastor and held him in place as his arms shook, threatening to buckle behind the overlord. He saw some blood seep through some of the stitches, but it was only a few trickles. Nothing terrible as far as he was concerned. For Alastor, sadly, it was. And had Lucifer not been paying attention and conjured a trash bin Alastor would have lost his stomach contents on himself.
Alastor gripped the bucket, his back held close to Lucifer's chest so he didn't stretch his stitches. He thought Lucifer was speaking to him again, but he didn't hear him, his senses overridden by the smell of vomit and blood. He couldn't even hear the sound of his own retching, nor could hear his own breathing once it was over. He did, thankfully, notice the water Lucifer tried to coax him to sip so he could rinse out his mouth and spit the vile remnants into the disgusting trash bin.
Lucifer re-positioned himself as he held Alastor up, moving so the Radio Demon was leaning back against his bent leg, thus allowing him to more easily bandage the man. He wrapped the gash first, applying the bandages from the overlord's shoulder to his waist. Then he wrapped Alastor's torso from his waist to his chest. Was this overkill? Maybe, but if Alastor woke up and inadvertently reopened his injury, Lucifer could feel comfortable knowing that his bandages would take care of most of the blood.
He pulled Alastor to his chest and tucked his arm under the sinner's knees. "Okay. Just gonna put you in bed and then we're done," the king said softly. He felt Alastor nod, but made no other movement.
Lucifer debated with himself for a second, then decided to unfold his wings and carry Alastor to bed that way. He didn't trust himself walking the man to bed, not because he wasn't able to hold the taller man, but because his nerves were starting to kick in now that the adrenaline was dying down. He didn't want the guy to hit his head.
It took a second, but Lucifer did find the right spot to lay Alastor down so he was resting on his pillows. He had to move the bed sheets out from under him, but that was simple, and the Radio Demon was barely aware of him doing so. Before covering Alastor, Lucifer removed the demon's belt and shoes, doing his best not to react when he noticed Alastor's deer hooves for feet. He brought the sheet up to Alastor's neck, then grabbed the comforter and rested it at his chest. Once covered, Alastor's eyes fluttered shut, a small moan escaping him as he finally drifted off.
Lucifer let out a heavy sigh of relief before looking at the other end of the room. He cleaned up the mess, grabbed his belongings, then shut Alastor's light off. With that, the king opened a portal to his room.
Ngl, this started as a one-and-done fanfic, but then it turned into this. There's probably only gonna be 7 or 8 chapters of this, and I'm not gonna update it quickly. I'm very invested in my fic Melody Dear, and I don't feel like slowing down on it. But, when the next chapter comes out, it will probably be another long one like this. Thanks for reading.