A Day to Remember

Given another time and another place, Lucifer probably would have excused his appearance as an expression of art. As it was, he was mostly out of his mind as he powered his way down the sidewalk and wasn't even aware of how he looked. Paint coated his fingers and marked his cheek with a bright blue smear. Wood shavings were sprinkled in his disheveled hair and clung to the fabric of his vest. He wasn't even aware that he had put his boots on the wrong feet in his rush out of the shop.

The cause for his muddled state was a commission piece for a music box he had sitting back in his tinker shop, begging for further attention. His thoughts continued to drift back to it even now. The gears still needed fine-tuned, the third layer of paints still need to be applied, and the finer details of the astrological design on the hood still needed wheedled and sanded down.

The commission was the biggest job his shop had ever tackled and he had been working on it for the better half of two months. The aristocrat who had requested it had supplied a great deal of money to get it started and would pay him handsomely once it was done. Not only would the revenue from the project get them the finances they needed to help pay for the necessary expansion, but the aristocrat's influence may draw more high-brow clients. The boon in business would finally afford for him to get Charlie into college.

Their future banked on this commission and he hated taking time away from it. However, when Charlie entered their shop with a newspaper in hand that afternoon, it was brought to his attention that his favorite author had just released a new novel that day. It was a limited print and copies were expected to fly off the shelves. If Lucifer didn't hurry and grab a copy now, he may never get his hands on one.

In hindsight, he probably should have just asked Charlie to go in his stead. Maybe that was why she had been calling for him as he rushed out—

"Watch it!" The voice had barely called out before the blaring of a horn pulled Lucifer out of his thoughts enough to jump out of the way of a Bentley turning onto the side road he had been blindly passing through.

Lucifer can proudly claim that the yelp that came out of his mouth was of the masculine variety. And, nope, he will not accept questions at this time. "Ah, sorry!" he said as he lifted his hands in a placating gesture at the passing car and its furious driver.

Once they both were out of his sight, he sighed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. "I really need to get out of my head," he said as he continued his trek down the sidewalk. Looking around, he was relieved to know he had made some great distance, at least, while he had been trapped in his own thoughts. He was practically at the shop already if the hustle and bustle of the city's square was any indicator. People and cars alike crowded the space.

So many people drive cars these days, he idly wondered. And traffic sure is heavy for a Sunday. Wait, is it a Sunday? Lord above, he didn't even know what date it was. And he didn't think to check the newspaper Charlie had showed him. It didn't matter! He didn't have a deadline for the commission so he had plenty of time to get it perfected before delivery.

And yet time still felt like it was running out. He really needed to hurry with this errand so he could get back to it.

Lucifer's brisk walk hastened into a jog when the bookstore came into view. The giant glass display showcased a bookshelf that was preserved for new releases and there, through the window, he could see one final copy.

"I made it," he said as he opened the door, the bell overhead chiming to signify his victory. He slowed his gait so as not to get reprimanded (again) and continued onward with a confident strut. His teeth were on full display as he celebrated his victory, reaching forward to finally claim—

"Ah-ha," came an intrusive declaration from somewhere above as the final book was wrenched out of Lucifer's reach. "It seems I've acquired the final copy!"

Despite the majority of his brain functioning on power-save mode to preserve energy for the commission back home, that familiar voice triggered every switch into overdrive, momentarily frying any sense of thought.

Lucifer looked up owlishly as his brain caught up with the present and he finally managed to glare at the tall, dark, and shadowy creep towering over him. It was astounding how Lucifer failed to notice him before now. "Alastor, you prick. You saw me reaching for that."

"Yet I was the one who procured it," Alastor responded coolly, grinning down his sloped nose to Lucifer. The sunlight cast through the display window reflected off his wire lenses with a devilish glint. "Lucky me."

Lucifer was confident in his ability to convince anyone in or out of any favor, and thus he knew he had the ability to talk Alastor into handing over the book. "You can't even read."

Okay, maybe his brain wasn't yet functioning at full capacity. And being away from most human interactions for the last two months didn't provide any advantage.

"That's a rude accusation," Alastor responded casually, his smile widening to display his sharp canines. "And, might I say, incorrect. Certainly your pea-brained mind can deduce that I do a great deal of reading for my job."

Yeah, okay, Lucifer knew that. Alastor was a radio host. His broadcasts primarily focused on music, but he also provided daily news, weather reports, and sometimes regaled them with stellar reviews of the newest books. In fact, that may be the very reason Alastor was so interested in the newest novel.

Not that Lucifer would ever admit out loud that he listens to Alastor's broadcast. The man had been a consistent thorn in Lucifer's side the moment he started frequenting the café next door to Lucifer's shop. He didn't know what compelled him, but Alastor had occasionally been popping into his shop, only to say some snide remarks then leave without making a single purchase.

Well, there was that one where he bought the deer figurines…

"Nope! Can't say that I… wait a minute." His brain really was on standby today. "I'm not pea-brained!"

Alastor chuckled behind his hand, a rich, musical sound. "It seems you're out of sorts today," he observed. "Still drowning under that commission, are we?"

Lucifer scoffed. Alastor had been asking after that commission from the moment Lucifer buried himself in the project. He surmised Alastor just wanted to use it to talk gossip about the aristocrat. "I'm not giving you details, Alastor. So stop asking."

"I didn't ask," he clarified with a shrug of his shoulders. "I was merely making an observation. Have you seen the state of you? Quite deplorable, I'd say."

"Are those lenses just for show?" Lucifer asked with the point of a finger. He quickly straightened himself and attempted to wipe wrinkles out of his vest, only succeeding in brushing away the persistent wood shavings. "I look dazzling."

Alastor laughed, fanning his hand outward in uncontained joy. "That remains to be seen. I, on the other hand, am always dressed to impress."

Lucifer wanted to argue that point – he really did – but the words slipped him as he regarded the other's impeccable attire. His clothes were impossibly crisp and finely pressed against his lithe frame, his bowtie was straight, and his brunette hair had a light lift to it to showcase his smiling face. How someone who drank coffee as much as Alastor did and still managed such white teeth was beyond Lucifer. And why were his canines so damn sharp?

Lucifer idly thought how hard he could bite with teeth like those.

"Your bowtie is tacky," he claimed, desperate to find something to criticize. He was really starting to feel self-conscious, especially with how his feet began to bark at him. A quick glance down confirmed his suspicions and he feared Alastor would notice.

Before that could happen, Lucifer decided to return the conversation to the matter at hand. "Look, what will it take for you to hand over the book?" He wasn't proud of just asking for it straight-out, but he had come to the conclusion that his skills of persuasion were mysteriously absent in this circumstance.

Alastor, who had been running a hand along his bowtie, looked down at Lucifer over the rim of his glasses. He let out a deep hum as he stared down at Lucifer with a calculating gaze. How could the guy make a simple hum sound musical?

"I'm afraid there's nothing you could offer that would merit me coffering up this rare treasure," he eventually said. "You see, this is a birthday present for a very dear friend of mine."

Well, if that didn't crush a man's spirit, Lucifer didn't know what would. "You have friends?" The words slipped out as a knee-jerk reaction as his hopeful mood turned bitter.

"I don't see how that's a surprise," Alastor responded, never missing a beat. "I'm quite the charming fellow. You'd be amazed the amount of people I have to beat away with a stick."

"It's pretty easy to imagine an empty room."

"Ha-ha. It's pleasing to see you've maintained some of that captivating wit. I had begun to believe you've lost all your allure to that project of yours."

Lucifer's meager brain function stopped short as it stumbled over those words. He didn't have the time to decipher what exactly that all meant so he just plowed on. "Look, I know you love getting your jollies by torturing me. Can we just skip the whole rigmarole where you bait me into another argument and just give me the book?"

Alastor's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and his smile grew tight-lipped. "My, you really are out of sorts, aren't you? Your temperament seems to match your height."

"Hardy-har-har, always quick with the short jokes," Lucifer responded with a crude gesture. "Just give me the damn book."

"I don't know what impression I've left on you, but I feel you need to know I'm not above kind gestures." To prove his point, he pulled out a handkerchief and handed it over to Lucifer.

Thoroughly confused, Lucifer accepted it but only blinked up at him. Before he could ask, Alastor gestured to his own cheek. Mirroring the act, Lucifer brought it up to wipe at his cheek, bringing it back to see blue paint staining the white fabric. Mortified, he scrubbed ruthlessly at his face to clear any other oil paints that had gone unnoticed. Alastor used the distraction to start making his way to the counter but Lucifer persisted after him.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

Alastor smirked at him over his shoulder. "To buy my book. I thought that was obvious? Then again, you have a tendency to be beneath basic comprehension."

"Choke on an apple core," Lucifer heckled, desperation slowly rising with each step towards the front counter. "Alastor, please, can I have the book? I promise you can borrow it once I've read it."

"Don't act like you'll stop everything to read this first. With the way you're acting, I suspect you'd forget you even have it."

"Okay, fine! You can read it first – I just want the book. Please, I've collected each edition!"

"Believe it or not, this genuinely is a gift for a friend," Alastor reminded. "It's just as dear to them as it is to you."

Lucifer could only watch in despair as Alastor paid for the book and requested it wrapped. He should have known better than to try and convince someone like Alastor to do him a kindness. He wasn't even sure the guy liked him.

That's not fair, a voice sounding very much like Charlie rang in the back of his head. He's obviously buying it for someone else, not to be vindictive.

Lucifer swallowed down the pit of disappointment as the cashier returned the book to Alastor, fully wrapped in colorful red and gold paper. He refused to let himself be swallowed up in depression; not here, not in front of Alastor. "Okay," he said, his voice a whisper. "Okay, fine." If he couldn't get his hands on a new copy, then maybe he could buy a used one later. Or perhaps he could take a train to the next town and get lucky there. But he didn't have the availability to just jump town right now. The commission came first.

"Can I at least…" He cleared his throat. "Can I at least read it? When your friend's done," he quickly added.

Alastor hummed again, this one long and thoughtful. That teasing grin was back with his sharp canines on display. There was an air of pride about him when he said, "You're really invested in this author, aren't you? It's not just some fleeting fancy?"

"Of course not! I've purchased each limited print and even had them signed. I have them in a display case in the shop! How have you not noticed?"

"Calm down," Alastor lightly chastised. "You're acting like a child. Though that's not outside your normal tendencies, do consider that we are in public."

"Fuck you, asshole, I just…!" He took a deep breath to calm himself. "I just…"

"How about this?" Alastor offered as he led the way out of the bookstore. "I may be inclined to give this to my friend a day early. I can't say when they'll get to it, but perhaps—"

Hope blossomed in Lucifer's chest, feeling akin to a bomb blowing apart his ribs and stealing his breath away. "I can wait!" His voice cracked in his eagerness and he had to force himself to calm down when he saw Alastor's eyes widen. "I mean, if they're willing to share, I'd be grateful for the chance to read it."

Something shifted in Alastor's expression. Perhaps it was how the warmth of the sun shone down on his cheeks, casting a faint pink hue on his otherwise caramel skin. Or perhaps it was the way the angle of the sun's light gave his dark eyes a tender glow. But mostly, it was the way he smiled. No longer was he showcasing his sharp canines. Instead, his mouth was pulled back in a soft curve, amplifying the shape of his lips.

"It seems I have no choice," Alastor said in a breath. He bent down at the waist and gingerly pressed the wrapped book into Lucifer's chest. His voice was low and melodic when he whispered in Lucifer's ear, "Happy birthday, Luci."