Part One: Thunder Rolls

In the waning days of October, lush emerald trees transitioned into a charming swirl of gold, orange, and red as the lingering heat of summer blended with the chill winds of fall. The air was filled with the sweet scent of apple cider and pumpkin spice. Jack-o-lanterns lined the city streets, either splattered across the pavement and lovingly decorated alongside painted fences and atop embellished stoops.

In a cozy corner off a shopping strip of Manhattan, carefully crafted Jack-o-lanterns and painted pumpkins adorned the entrance of Candied Apple Keepsakes, a humble toy shop and hidden treasure of New York. The shop's shelves were lined with the typical collection of dolls and craft kits, but Candied Apple Keepsakes' lured residents in with its hand-crafted toys and trinkets. Decorated music boxes, animated cuckoo clocks, and articulated knick-knacks brought a breath of originality and creativity to the little shop. Each and every bit was created by the animated and excitable, albeit socially awkward, shop owner, Lucifer Morningstar.

Lucifer was a man who was proud of his craft and let his store speak for itself. Partially because he trusted the quality of his products and partially because public speaking made him anxious. Luckily for him, the love of his life hosted a radio station that advertised the shop with each broadcast.

In recent years, Candied Apple Keepsakes – or the Candied Apple, as some kids liked to call it – broadened its selectable wares. One corner of the shop was now crowded with dresses hand-sewn by a friend and new contributor. The front counter had also been expanded to include a small display case filled with homemade sweet treats made fresh every few days, although the case never stayed filled long.

Additionally, a consistent growth of profits allowed the shop to budget for seasonal-themed products, such as costume accessories for Halloween. With each day closer to the holiday, more and more desperate kids and parents alike have popped by his shop looking for the perfect final piece for their costumes. Those who couldn't find what they were looking for were pleasantly surprised to learn that the shop accepted commissions. As a result, Lucifer was drowning in work orders with a fast-approaching deadline. He spent most of his free time lately laboring away in his woodworking shop in the back of the building.

Even now, as the hour grew late and a storm raged outside, Lucifer had stayed after to fashion his most recent collection of requests until he had fallen asleep at his desk. Cluttered across his workstation was a collection of unfinished projects of wood and tin, shavings, clumps of clay, drying paint, and scattered commission receipts, many already pierced through on a receipt stake.

At the strike of a new hour, the distant sound of bells and whistles chimed as the cuckoo clocks in the shop did their musical rotations. Lucifer roused slightly, the combination of muffled music, static feeding through on the nearby radio, and an uncomfortably bent back probing at his fading consciousness. The draw of sleep, however, was more enticing, so with a mumbled groan of complaint at nothing at all, he nuzzled himself deeper into the crook of his arms.

"Lucifer," coaxed a whispered voice, low and rumbled.

With another mumble, Lucifer turned his head towards the sound. A low chuckle followed suit, causing a warm breath to brush against Lucifer's cheek.

"Starlight," came the voice again, louder this time and accompanied by the comforting sensation of fingers brushing through his hair. "You can't sleep here."

Grumbling, Lucifer reluctantly opened his eyes only to realize they were too heavy to keep open for long. So, he opted for burying his face back into his arms instead.

There was that chuckle again. "Now, now." There was the touch of something warm and astoundingly sweet pressed against his exposed temple. "Come on, darling. Up and at 'em."

There was another gentle kiss pressed against his temple and Lucifer couldn't fight sleep any longer. With another groan, Lucifer stretched across the desk, vaguely conscious of various items falling off and thumping on the ground. At another hour, he may have been alarmed about possibly breaking something important, but exhaustion drowned out most concerns. Groggily opening his eyes, he was greeted with an obscured vision of Alastor's charming smile. Those rich, hazel eyes glimmered in the warm light.

"Aw, there you are, my little bird," Alastor said enchantingly. Bending over Lucifer as he was, his hair fell low to tickle Lucifer's arm. He leaned forward to kiss Lucifer again on the temple, but when Lucifer eagerly lifted his head, the kiss missed the mark and struck his nose. Alastor's smile turned cheeky as he lifted a curved brow. "Zealous, are we?"

Was Lucifer still dreaming? That look on Alastor's face mixed with that velvety tone was downright dreamy. "I think you missed," Lucifer teased with a smirk.

"That's a bold claim. What makes you believe I wasn't aiming for that tiny nose of yours?" he challenged with a bop on Lucifer's nose with a slender finger. Before Lucifer could come up with a retort, Alastor was straightening and moving out of his immediate sight – much to his disappointment – to turn off the radio. "Now, come on. You've worked late enough; it's time to go home."

Grudgingly, Lucifer straightened in his chair. His back screamed at him for his hunched position and he reached high to try and stretch out the knots. A groan slipped his lips as he reached back with both hands to rub at his sore back. With a glance at the wall clock, Lucifer became aware of the late hour. "Wait, Al, what are you doing here?"

Alastor, who had crouched down to collect the fallen items, straightened. "Had to stay late for a special recording session. Good thing, too, it seems," he said as he carefully deposited the items accumulated in his arms on the desk. "I had a feeling you'd still be holed up here." He grabbed one of the unfinished receipts from the desk and waved it in Lucifer's face. "You're overworking yourself."

Lucifer sighed as he sagged into the hard back of his chair. "I know, I know. I just—"

"Can't help it," Alastor finished for him with a sigh. "I've heard it before, dear, and I'll hear it again come Christmas." Lucifer made a point not to catch his eye as he pouted. "I'm putting my foot down. No more commissions. Halloween is less than a week away, these people have only themselves to blame for not being prepared for something that takes place on—"

"The same date every year," Lucifer finished with his own sigh. "Yeah, I've heard this lecture before."

"Then you should have learned by now," Alastor scolded, though there was hardly any bite behind it. They had done this dance again and again, several times over the course of the year for the last seven years. Alastor rarely forced his hand when it came to Lucifer's work, but when he did it was only out of concern. Though he typically hid his affection behind a semi-genuine mask of annoyance during this routine.

"It's not my fault when you—you're—uh…" Normally, Lucifer was more creative when it came time to argue his point, but he found he was too tired to think of anything clever. Okay, yeah, Alastor might have a point this time. "Shut up."

"That stings," Alastor said facetiously. He glanced at the clock mounted on the wall then confirmed the time with the watch on his wrist. He frowned. "I fear I missed the last bus. I suppose I'll have to join you in the car."

Lucifer scoffed. "Hard sacrifice, I know. I'm lucky you love me," he added flatly, repeating words Alastor had said many times before.

Alastor hated the car and made sure to make a fuss of it every time. Not only did Alastor hate everything revolutionary and new that the automobile represented, but he felt a personal dislike for the confinement of them – the intimacy of the close space. He'd rather take a trolley, something public and open – easy to leave even while in transit. While trolleys had become obsolete, Alastor insisted that he'd still rather a bus than a car – taxi or otherwise. Lucifer, on the other hand, hated the bus.

Ever since General Motors and Firestone came out with their "revolutionary" transit bus, public transportation had become a nightmare. The BMT had grown antiquated, forcing trolleys and streetcars off the roads. Manhattan was still undergoing construction for the new subway system, so the reach was limited and did not include their home in the suburbs. Meaning the only reliable transport was by bus or taxi, the former only operational during limited hours of the day and heavily discriminated against colored people. But, as Alastor liked to argue, the bus always promised a ride to anyone at its designated stop, even though Alastor was often forced into the back.

They had gotten into an argument about it before, when Alastor's choice of a bus over a taxi wound up with him abandoned on the outskirts of the city when the bus refused to drive into the suburbs for a single colored man – though the bus driver's words had been much harsher at the time. Alastor was then left to walk the rest of the way home since taxis didn't frequent the suburbs.

Emotions had been high; Lucifer having stayed up all night a panicked mess and Alastor coming home exhausted and irate. It was one of the biggest fights the two of them had during their relationship. Alastor hadn't been in the mood to talk but Lucifer had pressed, too upset to properly approach the discussion later.

Lucifer had yelled and broken a frame when he got a little too animated.

Alastor has always been a well-mannered gentleman with a mild temper, but even he is capable of reaching a limit. When he does lose his temper and becomes furious, Alastor gets vicious. His already rapier wit turns lethal and, in rare circumstances, he grows violent. Never had he threatened Lucifer with physical harm and had promised he never would, but his words were often harming enough.

Lucifer had been reminded of a hard lesson that night on racial discrimination. He sometimes forgot how hard it was for Alastor out in the world, especially since his partner does so well in hiding it from him. The argument bled late into the morning, with Lucifer promising to be more understanding and Alastor promising to be more open.

So often their arguments ended with Alastor promising to be more open…

"Lucifer." Alastor said his name in singsong, drawing Lucifer from his musings. He hadn't realized he had started to doze off again. Lucifer blinked his eyes open to find Alastor leaning over the table and smiling down at him. "Let's get you home, bebe."

Lucifer sat there and gazed once again into those hazel eyes and charming smile. He couldn't help but stare as he watched the light from the hanging bulb reflect in the golden flecks of his eyes. "You're being extra sweet this evening." Alastor averted his eyes. Lucifer always found it adorable whenever Alastor got shy. He moved, preparing himself to deny it, but Lucifer leaned forward. "Admit it."

Alastor refused to meet Lucifer's eye as he moved around the desk to Lucifer's side. "You've been out late these last few days. I know how you get when you're lonely. You always want extra attention. Now, come on, I'm not asking again."

"Yeah, right," Lucifer wanted to say but he was cut short when Alastor slipped his hands under Lucifer's arms and forcibly removed him from his chair. While Lucifer adjusted to suddenly being upright and on his feet, Alastor had managed to grab his coat and drape it over his shoulders.

"It's storming outside so button up. Lucky for you, I've brought an umbrella."

Ever prepared for anything, Alastor always picked up Lucifer's slack. Lucifer allowed Alastor to manhandle him out of the back room and through the shop. He was deposited on a bench by the door where he could watch as his partner expertly turned off each light and locked the doors as they went, humming every step of the way.

Lucifer craned his neck to glance out the display window, past the painted letters, to see the storm raging outside. The streets outside were dark, the clouds overhead casting the evening into pitch darkness. Streetlamps offered little to illuminate the streets through the heavy rain, resembling distant shining stars in a night sky. Occasionally there would be streaks of headlights passing by the shop. Somewhere amidst the shadows and rain, Lucifer saw the faint cherry tip of a cigarette of some poor soul stuck waiting under an awning for the rain to pass.

The combination of the ticking clocks, patter of the rain, and rolling thunder had Lucifer's eyes drooping again. With an elbow propped on the back of the bench, Lucifer rested his head in his hand as he watched the twinkling lights of the streetlamps. Next he knew, he was waking to a hand gently brushing his hair from his forehead.

"Mmna?" Lucifer mumbled as he forced his eyes open again.

"Very eloquent," said Alastor, who was now crouching in front of him to meet his eyes. "Everything's put away and locked up. I even called Charlie to let her know we'll be running late." The hand pressed flush against Lucifer's brow.

"You used a phone? Never thought I'd see the day," teased Lucifer, even as his eyes drooped closed again.

"Twice now today." The hand on Lucifer's brow moved down to his cheek, which then sharply squeezed between thumb and forefinger. "One of us needed to be a responsible adult."

"Ow!" With a quick whip of the wrist, Alastor's hand was swatted away with a glare. "What was that for?"

Alastor shrugged with a grin before standing straight. "It wouldn't be necessary if you could stay awake. I can't be seen carrying you around town at night. What would the papers say?"

Lucifer was not a man to pout. Really, he wasn't. "You're the one who woke me up. It's your fault."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Shall I just tuck you in at your desk, then?"

With a groan, Lucifer buried his face in his hands. "I'm too tired to deal with you right now."

When Alastor spoke next, his tone was delicate and feather-light. "I know." Then that hand was sitting on the top of Lucifer's head, his touch as gentle as his words. "I'm getting you home."

Lucifer glanced up at Alastor through the cracks in his fingers. The hand never left his hair, fingers idly scratching soothingly against his scalp, as Alastor watched the heavy fall of rain through the glass door. He was humming again, the same song as before. Lucifer didn't recognize it, but he found it lovely. In the dim yellow lighting of the shop, Alastor's caramel skin glowed. He had a small, pleased smile on his face that spoke volumes.

Alastor was beautiful.

"The rain has died down some," said Alastor suddenly, smiling down at Lucifer. "I believe this will be our best chance to get to the car."

In that brief moment where their eyes met, a shiver ran down Lucifer's spine. How could it be that someone so beautiful could look down at someone like Lucifer and smile with that amorous gaze, like Lucifer was the most important person in the world? Whereas here Lucifer sat, a pathetic mess worn thin, clothes rumpled and filthy, reeking of oils and glue, with a mind so faulted that he couldn't regulate like a normal human being.

Yet, despite all that, Alastor held the door open for him and hefted a red umbrella over his head to protect Lucifer from the rain, all while locking up the shop as Lucifer uselessly stood there and shivered when a cold breeze spattered some diverging raindrops along his neck. Almost immediately, Alastor adjusted the umbrella.

Lucifer frowned. "You're getting wet."

"Don't be absurd," said Alastor dismissively as he finished locking the door. He slipped his copy of the key into his jacket pocket before slipping his free arm around Lucifer's shoulders to guide him towards the parking lot a few blocks away

Alastor must have noticed the smoking onlooker under the awning because he suddenly removed his hand and took a step back. Lucifer hated when Alastor acted more like a valet than a partner, or even a friend. He understood why he did it, but that didn't make Lucifer like it. Even though New York was more welcoming to people like him, Alastor still fell into old tendencies he had to pick up back in Louisiana. Some tendencies grew worse upon coming to the Big Apple. The trans-Atlantic accent he used during his shows became a custom while out in public and even in the privacy of their home. It had grown to the point where when Alastor slipped into creole, it was a treat.

Either he was comfortable that they were beyond the sight of the onlooker, or he was protecting Lucifer from the splash of a passing car, Lucifer didn't know, but Alastor was quickly by his side soon enough. Lucifer missed the warmth of Alastor's arm on his shoulders, but he could make do with the bare caress of their arms.

The parking lot was nearly vacant at the late hour with the combination of the storm, so it was easy to spot their car. It was a Chevrolet model that was similar to thousands of others on the roads, but theirs was a cherry red that stood out amongst the lot. Lucifer had bought the car the day after their big fight. Alastor had been reluctant at first, thinking it was a waste of money, but he eventually relented and even allowed Lucifer to teach him how to drive.

Alastor kept the umbrella aloft as Lucifer climbed into the passenger seat before closing it and making his way around to the driver' side. Lucifer waited up until Alastor was situated enough to toss the umbrella in the backseat before pressing himself into Alastor's side. As expected while out in public, Alastor stiffened and quickly checked for any witnesses. Once he was certain they were alone, Alastor once again settled his arm around Lucifer's shoulders and pulled him close to his side.

"Starlight," he teased, "you're being rather needy right now."

"I don't care," Lucifer mumbled as he nuzzled his face into Alastor's side. "I'm tired."

The scent of Alastor's cologne had faded over the course of the day and was masked with cigarette smoke – a common side effect from working amidst smokers – but he still smelled distinctly like Alastor and Lucifer was drawn in to the faint scent of spices and coffee. Blearily, just as the draw of sleep began to pull him under yet again, he felt a kiss press to the crown of his head.

…

Lucifer lied in bed, cursing his dysfunctional brain as he tossed and turned. He tried staring at the wall, the ceiling, tried closing his eyes and counting sheep, yet sleep would not come. How was it that he could fall asleep at the drop of a hat several times throughout the course of the evening and on his trip home, but once he got into a warm bed and comfortable clothes it was impossible to find sleep again?

He had been drowsy and barely clinging to wakefulness the moment they had pulled into the driveway. Lucifer had dragged his feet as he got out of the car and surrendered under the protection of Alastor's umbrella, despite the bitter cold from the pouring rain. He had been as limp as a ragdoll as he let Alastor take care of him, from helping him shrug off his clothes to providing a dry pair of pajamas and literally tucking him in.

And then his brain began to stir, reflecting back on the evening. It had started positive at first, with Lucifer ruminating over everything that was Alastor: his patience and the tenderness he reserves for behind closed doors. He had begun to count the ways in how he loved Alastor and everything the man did for him. His heart felt full and his mind at peace.

Then his thoughts took a nasty turn when he began to compare Alastor's grace and beauty to himself. Lucifer was flawed, incomplete. His failures were etched in his mind like carvings in stone, the list recounting itself one at a time with a vivid memory to accompany each and every account.

Next he knew, Lucifer was drowning in a pool of his own self-loathing. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't stop his mind from spiraling further into the dark depths.

Unable to take it anymore, Lucifer abandoned the chance for sleep and rose from bed, taking the blanket and wrapping it around himself. Lucifer was forlorn as he trudged his way through the hall and down the stairs. The light was minimal because Alastor, ever-calculating and considering, made sure to turn off the living room light so there was as little disruption slipping under the bedroom door as possible. The only light guiding his way was the sliver provided from the closed swinging kitchen door.

As Lucifer stood outside the kitchen door, he hesitated. He could hear Alastor on the other side, humming contentedly, as he toiled away over whatever he was making, though Lucifer couldn't tell what it was with the odd combination of sweet and spicy. Lucifer felt entrenched in the shadow of the door, underserving of the light bleeding through the cracks as Alastor's harmonious voice resonated inside. Alastor was blissful and unaware of the storm raging just outside the room. Who was Lucifer to ruin that?

He pressed his hand against the door, hoping to feel Alastor's warmth along its wooden surface. It was cold and sent a shiver down his spine. With a low sigh, Lucifer succumbed to the temptation and pushed the door open.

The light was blinding and Lucifer had to squint under its force. With no door muffling him, Alastor's humming seemed so loud and clear, pure and heavenly. Lucifer was drawn in like a moth to a flame, blindly reaching out and wrapping his arms around Alastor's slim waist. He was mildly aware that Alastor's left side was partially damp, but he didn't care as Lucifer buried his face in his back.

The song Alastor had been humming shifted from its cheerful melody to something slow and soft. They remained like that for a moment, Lucifer clinging to Alastor and Alastor allowing him as he continued his task.

"Couldn't sleep?" Alastor eventually asked, interrupting his humming enough to slip out the question before resuming again.

"Mm-mm," Lucifer produced intelligently as he tightened his grip around Alastor and nuzzled further into him. A part of him hoped that if he pressed the two of them close enough together, Lucifer could forget himself and revel in Alastor's perfection.

Lucifer felt the delicate touch of a hand grasping his own at Alastor's side. "I'm sorry, Starlight." Then there was a pat on Lucifer's hand, a subtle tactic to try and coax Lucifer off of him. "If you join me at the counter, I can treat you to something sweet."

Lucifer wasn't ready to let go yet. Instead, he shifted to where he could glance around Alastor to see what he was making. Alastor must have guessed what he was doing because he raised his arm to allow an unobscured view of the stovetop. "What are you making?"

"Dinner for Charlie tomorrow," Alastor explained with a gesture to a pan filled with fried rice and shrimp. "I assume you'll be working late again?" When Lucifer nodded, he went on. "I'll be staying late for a while as well, so I thought I'd make her some dinner she can reheat later."

Lucifer's gaze drifted to a double boiler on the back burner of the stove and he became acutely aware of the sweet smell of caramel. On the counter, he could see several apples pierced through with sticks and coated in it. "You're making candied apples?"

"For the shop. But lucky for you, I indulged a bit earlier." Leaning slightly, Alastor reached for a plate stocked with apple slices, though there was little apple left. Gingerly grasping a slice between one long forefinger and thumb, Alastor dipped it into the melted caramel.

Lucifer felt himself salivating as he watched Alastor hold the apple slice aloft, allowing the excess caramel to drip back into the double boiler before bringing it around to plop into Lucifer's mouth. The delivery was sloppy, Alastor barely able to see him from under his arm. As a result, caramel coated Lucifer's bottom lip.

The thick sweetness of the caramel mixed with the delectable crunch of the apple was heavenly. The juice of the apple eased the caramel's sticky hold on his teeth, the two elements blending tantalizingly along his tongue. Lucifer hummed in delight, the dark thoughts already beginning their retreat back into the recesses of his mind.

Alastor shifted in his hold, turning and pulling away from him before bending down to deliver a kiss against Lucifer's caramelized lip. When Alastor pulled back, he lapped up the caramel that had transferred to his own lip with the quick swipe of a pink tongue. Lucifer stared, mimicking the action and cleaning his own lip as he gazed into that beautiful smile.

"How was it?" asked Alastor.

It took Lucifer an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize Alastor was asking about the caramel, not the kiss. With a blush burning on his cheeks, Lucifer tried to regain some dignity by pretending to analyze the caramelized apples. "Delicious, but perhaps too sweet with that type of apple."

Alastor hummed in thought as he considered the apples. Then his eyes blazed, the gold specks in his hazel eyes sparking with inspiration. "I have just the thought," he said, crossing the kitchen to open a cabinet. When he returned to the stove, he held out to Lucifer a canister of peanuts. "Crush these for me, won't you, dear?"

"Oh, uh, sure," said Lucifer as he accepted the cannister. Though reluctant, he moved from Alastor's side and gathered himself the mortar and pestle Alastor insisted that they have. Well, the argument Lucifer had placed upon the time Alastor acquired it had now been overturned. With a glance in Alastor's direction, he saw his partner grinning that shit-eating grin, meaning he was fully aware that he had now officially won the argument.

"I know it may be impossible for you," Lucifer said with a warning glare, "but shut up."

Alastor laughed, his shoulders shaking with delight, and turned back to the stove. "I said nothing!"

"You were thinking it. So loud, in fact, I'm sure our neighbors could hear you."

"Oh?" Alastor, who had started to deposit the finished jambalaya into a glass container, paused to cast a cocky grin Lucifer's way. "And what exactly was I thinking so loudly that the entire neighborhood could hear?"

Lucifer's ears burned and he decided to focus his attention on the nuts he poured into the mortar. He was suddenly having a hard time remembering what had drawn him to Alastor in the first place. "That you're a tacky piece of shit whose antiquated methods are one day away from crumbling into a pile of dust. Might want to have this—" he paused in crushing the nuts to lift the mortar, "historically preserved before that happens."

Alastor let out a noise somewhere between a hum and a laugh. "No, I don't believe that's what I had been thinking," he said cheerily as he returned to putting away Charlie's dinner. "Though I can see why you may have thought that, given that I was thinking of you. Honestly, I can't tell if that cracking noise is the peanuts or your brittle bones."

Lucifer opened his mouth to say something, but God Himself decided to shit on his day when his wrist popped as he twisted the pestle. "At least I'm adaptable! Can you even understand what the kids are saying these days?" He extended his hand towards Alastor, palm up, and curled his finger tauntingly. "Come on, snake, let's rattle."

Alastor raised a brow, dark eyes flitting between Lucifer's face and his gesturing hand. "Are you asking me to… kiss you?"

In a burst of laughter, Lucifer bent over. "It's an invite to dance, you dunce."

With a loud harrumph, Alastor stored Charlie's food in the fridge with a loud clang against the wire shelf. "As if I need to know some unclever roundabout way to make the obvious known. I see no need to say 'make a biscuit' or whatever it is they say when I mean to record an album. It's frivolous nonsense."

Lucifer laughed again. "It's 'bake a biscuit'!" he stuttered out between bouts of laughter.

Alastor was suddenly by his side and Lucifer was sure he was in for a swat on the head, but Alastor nearly harrumphed again and took the mortar full of crushed nuts. "It's not as if it matters. It's only a matter of time before the children come up with new phrases they think are nifty," he said on his way back to the collection of apples lined on the counter. "Now, help me with these, won't you?"

Still chortling, Lucifer made his way over. Alastor was retreating from the argument, which meant Lucifer won this round. He supposed that made them even for the time being. "Yeah, alright."

Carefully pulling the coated apples from the wax paper, Alastor and Lucifer took turns rolling them along the nuts, coating the apples in a thin layer over the caramel coating. "Speaking of children," Alastor started, "how's Charlie's vampire costume coming along?" Alastor was making an effort to not sound displeased, but Lucifer could recognize the disdain in his voice.

Lucifer couldn't say he was thrilled about Charlie's recent obsession with vampires either. There had been a channel playing scary movies on television and Charlie and Vaggie happened to watch the classic Dracula film from the 30's. Ever since, the girls have been enamored with the occult, vampires especially. Charlie even got her hands on some book called The Young Vampire, where a girl is possessed by a vampire. Lucifer wasn't a fan, but he didn't think the argument was worth trying to put a stop to it. Much to his surprise, Alastor had disapproved of it more than Lucifer had, though he had chosen not to say anything to Charlie on the matter. Alastor could be rather permissive when it came to Charlie.

"Carmilla said the dress should be finished any day now. We're hoping she'll deliver it tomorrow. I finished making her necklace and crown earlier today. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but they turned out pretty excellent."

"Of course they did," Alastor responded breezily. "You made them."

Lucifer felt his cheeks burn. How did Alastor find it in him to dish out compliments so swift and easily? Especially when they were targeted to someone such as Lucifer? Still, Lucifer couldn't help but preen under the praise. He shot Alastor a smirk. "Yeah, you're right. It's impossible for these hands to make anything less than perfect," he said, showcasing his aforementioned hands.

Alastor grabbed one and turned it over in his grasp, giving it a squeeze. "Nothing but the best. Now!" He stepped away as he grabbed the pan and double boiler. "I'll allow you to wrap the apples while I start the dishes."

"Oh, you'll allow me, will you? How gracious of you," Lucifer muttered as he moved to collect the cupcake wrappers and cellophane.

"Would you rather do the dishes?" Alastor quipped, moving back with the obvious intention of shoving the dirtied pots and pan into Lucifer's arms. "By all means—"

Lucifer backtracked instantly. "No, that's alright! I'll take care of the apples!"

With a chortle of his own, Alastor nodded knowingly. "That's what I thought." He started back to the sink and let the water run to warm up. "My day has been dreadfully dull," he said suddenly. "Why don't you tell me about yours?"

He found it hard to believe that a day at the radio station could be dull, especially since Alastor is usually so proud to discuss what had taken place each day, but he supposed there was always room for the exception. "Let me think…" Lucifer started. "Oh, you know what some kid came in and asked about? A Ouija board."

Alastor's neck cracked when he whipped his head around to gawk at Lucifer. "Absolutely not!"

"I'm not going to carry them, don't worry," Lucifer was quick to appease. "And when I told the kid that, you know what that young punk said? He called my shop stupid and said he'd just go to Love's Craft, then stormed off."

"My, that was awfully rude," said Alastor with a frown.

"That's what I thought! The kid didn't have to bring Eldritch into it, at least."

HP Love's Craft was a competing toy shop located on the primary shopping strip of Manhattan. It had been around for decades and had quite the running ahead of Lucifer's modest shop. Originally, it was owned by a man named Howard Phillips and it was unoriginally called Howard Phillips' Toy Shop. The name became a mouthful so the kids shorthanded it to HP Toy Shop. That was until Frederick von Eldritch took ownership when Phillips decided to retire.

Lucifer pretended to hate the guy, but really, he was funny and easy to talk to. Eldritch was a man of respect, and in respect to the previous owner of the shop, he kept HP in the title. Or so that's what he said. Alastor believed he did it to continue to lure in people who were familiar with the HP name. Lucifer felt torn on his opinion of the matter.

Regardless of how he felt about Eldritch and Love's Craft, it still stung whenever people compared it to Candied Apple Keepsakes. While Eldritch treated Lucifer as an ally rather than a business opponent, Lucifer could be a competitive man and he strove to one day best Love's Craft and have his shop be the best in all of New York.

"I like to imagine…" started Alastor, a playful lilt in his tone. "What kind of cruel things do the children say to Eldritch when he doesn't carry the high-quality, handmade craftworks and creations your shop has to offer? Hopefully something along the lines of unimaginative, half-hearted conventional rubbish of a derivative nature. After all, where's the value in something mass-produced?"

With a chuckle, Lucifer shook his head. "I think you overestimate the vocabulary of this generation's children," he said. But still, it was a hilarious visual.

"Anyway, tell me what else happened," Alastor encouraged as he began to scrub at the pan.

And so, Lucifer droned on, talking about the kids that came in and the demanding parents. He went into detail about the newest commission he had finished and even mentioned the redheaded twins who came looking for work. Alastor kept asking him to go on, so Lucifer tried to dig up any minor details that had accumulated throughout the day until there was nothing left to talk about.

"Oh, by the way…" Lucifer started, trailing off when he became overcome with a massive yawn, "when will our costumes be done?"

It was only when Alastor stopped did Lucifer notice that he had been humming lullingly the entire time. With a proud grin shot over his shoulder, Alastor smirked. "I was promised they'd be done in a couple of days."

"Can I know what they are yet?"

"Not yet," Alastor sang. He had finished with the dishes and was now joining Lucifer at the counter. "I want it to be a surprise."

Lucifer grumbled as he finished wrapping the last apple in cellophane. Normally, Lucifer was the one who arranged their Halloween costumes by hiring Carmilla. They usually aimed for a matching set that could allow them to appear appropriate if they attended a party together. That typically meant Lucifer dolled up as a woman to make them appear like a normal couple. Last year they were themed as the Phantom of the Opera, with Lucifer dressed as Christine and Alastor as the Phantom. This year, Alastor claimed to have had a "strike of inspiration" and took it upon himself to prepare them. And to keep Lucifer out of the loop, he instead hired a young lady at his radio station who was supposedly talented with a needle.

"Don't give me that," Alastor said, taking the cellophane from Lucifer and setting it down on the counter. "You'll love them, I'm sure of it." Lucifer shot him a weak glower to which Alastor only chuckled. He gently yet firmly placed his hands on Lucifer's shoulders and directed him towards the door. "Let's get to bed."

The mention of bed invoked another yawn from Lucifer and he saw no reason to resist as Alastor guided him back towards the bedroom, stopping only briefly to gather the blanket that had slipped from Lucifer's shoulders at some point. The trip back through the house was hazardous without the added help from the kitchen light, but Alastor kept Lucifer from all harm as he expertly led them to the bedroom.

Alastor was just as sweet and attentive as before as he helped ease Lucifer into bed. Lucifer passed up on being tucked in again to allow Alastor to take the time to change into proper sleepwear, enjoying the view as his partner slowly peeled away his business shirt and slacks to replace them with red flannel.

Alastor was humming again as he turned the bedside lamp back off and crawled into bed. Much like back in the car, Lucifer only waited long enough for Alastor to get settled before curling himself up into Alastor's side. With his ear pressed against Alastor's chest, he could feel the rumble with each note of the melody, the sonorous hum wrapping around him like a warm embrace and pulling him towards sleep.