Oh Alastor, well done.
Alastor doesn’t move from where he’s curled around the fawn.
His breathing has slowed, deep and uneven with exhaustion, eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Every instinct in him screams guard, hide, protect. When footsteps approach the edge of the bayou, his head lifts sharply.
A low, feral growl rumbles from his chest.
His lips peel back, teeth flashing—no wit, no warning, just raw instinct.
Adam freezes instantly.
Lucifer doesn’t take another step. He lowers himself, wings folding, voice barely a whisper.
Lucifer: Alastor… it’s us.
They wait.
The air shifts as their scents reach him— cinnamon and apples from Lucifer, along with musk and pregnancy pheromones from Adam. They were familiar: safe. Alastor inhales, nostrils flaring. The growl fades into a weak huff, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as his head droops again.
Alastor: …mm.
That’s all he manages.
Lucifer moves first, slow and deliberate. He kneels beside them and gently scoops Abel up, cradling the newborn against his chest. The baby startles for half a second—tiny wings twitching on his back, just little nubs of skin and cartilage where feathers will soon grow—then settles as Lucifer hums softly.
Lucifer: There we go… easy, little star. You’re safe.
Adam steps in next, careful hands sliding beneath Alastor’s arms and legs. The deer demon barely reacts, eyes fluttering shut as Adam lifts him.
Adam: You did so good, Al. So damn good.
With a beat of wings, they rise together, gliding low over the still water. Moonlight ripples beneath them as they cross from wild bayou back into polished stone and silk sheets.
The suite is warm.
Quiet.
Safe.
Adam carries Alastor straight to the bathroom, setting him gently into the tub and turning on the water. He rinses blood and sweat from Alastor’s body, murmuring constantly even as Alastor slips in and out of consciousness.
Adam: I got you. Don’t worry about a thing. Just rest… you did amazing Alastor.
Alastor hums faintly, head lolling against the porcelain.
Across the room, Lucifer stands at the sink, carefully cleaning Abel with a warm washcloth. He moves slowly, reverently, wiping away the last traces of birth. The baby squirms, giving a small bleat-like sound.
Lucifer: *smiles through tears* Look at you… perfect little miracle. Your daddy fought so hard for you.
He gently lifts one of the tiny wing nubs, inspecting it with awe.
Lucifer: Feathers’ll come in soon. You’ll be flying before you know it.
Abel yawns, hooves flexing, and settles against Lucifer’s chest.
Adam: *presses his forehead to Alastor’s temple* You hear that? He’s okay. He’s strong—just like you.
Alastor exhales, finally going slack, safe enough to sleep.
