It will all be worth it, Lilith repeated to herself, jaw tight and fists clenched in irritation.
The seat she had been offered was surrounded by blank-eyed rubber ducks, each beady gaze boring into her with all the scrutiny of a bastardized Heavenly counsel. Even in his exile, it seemed Lucifer still craved their attention.
Their marriage, their people (who were only here because of them in the first place), their daughter: all unimportant, apparently, in his pursuit to convince Heaven to take him back, to let him be their kicking boy again.
It had hurt, at first. Forced to compete with concepts, with memories, in her own relationship.
Now, it was just pathetic.
So much power at his fingertips, and he wasted it on pity parties with rubber ducks. Whatever she had seen in him back in the garden was gone, now. Dead as the angel they had mutilated with those holy spears. Tens of thousands of years, wasted. Her daughter's childhood, wasted. The lives of her people, wasted, on a careless, selfish, coward.
She loathed him.
But, of course, things could never be that simple. Because now, apparently, he had decided to gather enough of his shit to be present for Charlie's dream. Just when she didn't need him, he showed up to waste everyone's time. How magnanimous. Father of the year, everyone.
She could see her daughter cringe every time he opened his entitled mouth.
Lilith wanted so badly to send him away, but he and Charlie were on better terms now. 'Talking again'. And if she knew her daughter, she was as weak to her own selfish desires as her father. Lilith was less inclined to blame her for that; Lucifer's genes had done some heavy lifting.
She would sort that out, in time. Charlie needed guidance, and it was foolish to believe anyone but Lilith herself could provide. Lucifer's 'advice' began and ended with running away. With hiding and rotting. Charlie was better than that. She was the last scrap of good Lucifer had left inside him; tenacious and determined and useful. Easy to guide. Willing to listen. Far too much of a doormat for her own good, but a soft heart could only take so much before it began to adapt.
And Lilith would be there to make sure she adapted in the right direction. The sooner she sorted out this mess, the sooner she could leave of this roach-infested prison.
"Oh, oh!" A portal snapped into existence, and Lucifer shoved his hand through it. He pulled out, what else, another duck. No different than the plethora of others that crowded the room: yellow and beady-eyed and useless. "I carved this one during the third year! See? It's made of wood from the tree we, uh, heh, made Charlie under."
Lilith grimaced.
"I, uh, I was thinking about the lullaby you used to hum to her, when she was born, so at first I just tried to incorporate the music notes into the design somehow, but then I remembered it's made of wood, so I can just make it play—"
"That's nice, Lucifer." She pinched the bridge of her nose, uttering what would be her first of many sighs. "But I didn't come here to talk about your ducks. If you haven't noticed, there's been a catastrophic status quo shift within the past three months, and our kingdom is in shambles. If you don't mind, I'd like to have an adult discussion with The King of Hell."
Lucifer deflated. "Ah… yeah, right." He looked to the duck in his hands, brows pinching as he placed it on his atrocious bed. The hideous pink sweater he had stolen from her centuries ago swallowed him whole, his striped pajama pants pooling around his hooves. She supposed she ought to thank whoever was listening that Lucifer didn't sweat, because it looked like he hadn't changed in weeks. His hair was limp and greasy, long enough to touch his shoulders. A reddish splotch stained the corner of his mouth. The wrapper for some kind of sweet stuck out of the neck of the sweater. "Of course. S-sorry. I, uh… I just really missed you."
Lilith hated the piece of her that twisted at the despondent look on his face. First loves were a hell of a habit to break. "Well, once we've tackled the major stuff, we'll have time to catch up." She cringed at the eager little gasp he uttered, the way he perked right up like a pet hearing the shake of a treat bag. "Stop. Not like that. We are divorced, Lucifer, that hasn't changed."
Lucifer flinched as though he had been slapped. "I—haha, I know, I know, don't worry. But you're still my friend… right?"
"That depends on how helpful you decide to be. You cannot cower in your room like a frightened child when Heaven comes to discuss progress this time. You need to behave like the king you are instead of expecting me and now Charlie to handle everything in your stead."
Lucifer hunched with every word, hugging himself and clutching his sleeves. "… I'll try."
Lilith huffed, irritated, but not surprised. "How many times have I heard that before?"
"I'm sorry! I—I don't know what else to say."
"How about 'I will'? Would it kill you to commit?"
"I—I—all I can do is try…"
"That's not true, and you know it. Quite frankly, I'm tired of having this same argument over and over again. If all you're willing to offer is your best, I suggest you step out of Charlie's way now, so you don't fuck this up for her any worse than you already have. The last thing she needs right now is extra stress." She bit her tongue, swallowing the angry words that wanted to follow. "But, if you're actually willing to be involved, then we'd be glad to have you."
Lucifer pouted, crossing his arms like a petulant child. "Of course I'm willing."
"Good. Then you need to start acting like it. For Charlie's sake." She stood, and several nearby ducks toppled to the floor. Grimacing, she toed them out of her path as she started towards the door. "Now, come on. Charlie has requested that we join the staff for breakfast. We need to present a unified front, as her parents."
Lucifer trudged after her, head hanging low, arms wrapped tight around himself, shoulders shaking with what she knew were poorly concealed sobs. There went the twisting again. Sighing, she snapped a tissue into existence and pressed it to his chest. "Don't cry in front of our daughter."
The last thing she needed was Charlie getting the wrong idea. She was already cross with her for… well, it was only an affair by technicality. Hers and Lucifer's marriage had been dead in the water for centuries; Lilith hardly thought herself the villain for finding someone new to occupy her time.
It wasn't as though she had been sneaking around behind Lucifer's back: she had broached the topic of taking on concubines once it became clear he was more content to wallow with his ducks then pay her any attention, and he had agreed to it. He had never done so himself—at least not that she knew of, and really she didn't care to know—but had given his informed consent for her to follow through. She had told him exactly who she planned to see every time, even offered to arrange meetings, which he had declined, insisting he trusted her and encouraging her to have fun.
Even when her relationship with one such additional lover had bloomed into something more, Lucifer had given his blessing for the two of them to formally date. He had seemed genuinely happy for her. Even yesterday, upon meeting the woman for the first time, he had shaken her hand with a big, toothy smile, and congratulated her. A bit theatrical, but that was just Lucifer. It was the first time in millennia that Lilith had felt an inkling of fondness towards him.
Charlie hadn't taken it well, which Lilith had expected, but the outrage on her father's behalf was hardly anticipated. Thank goodness for Lucifer's interference—and how strange it was to feel grateful towards the man for once. Clumsy as his explanation had been, it had soothed Charlie enough for Lilith's lover to give a more thought-out debriefing. She wasn't sure if Charlie's preconceived notions of Rosie made it easier or harder for her to swallow.
She had appeared to be fond of her, before learning the truth.
At least she hadn't thrown a fit when Lilith had taken Rosie back to her temporary room. Drab and pedestrian, but she could work her magic—figuratively and literally. A shame Charlie had inherited her father's tastes in interior design (read: none at all). A greater shame that Lilith had heard her fuss over Lucifer the moment she and Rosie rounded the corner, asking if he was really alright, if he needed anything, if he wanted her to do something about it.
In a way, she understood Charlie's concern.
Lucifer had always been unstable: quick to anger, quick to rejoice, quick to withdraw. But he was tens of thousands of years old, about as adult as one could get. In no world should a being of his caliber be sniffling into his sleeve after a little harsh criticism. Lilith couldn't be expected to walk on eggshells at all times for the sake of his ill-managed emotions.
But Charlie didn't know that; they had never let her see it. At least, Lilith hadn't. Of course, the moment she turned her back, he was turning her daughter against her without even trying. Biting back more vitriol, she waited until the nose blowing and choppy breaths settled before glancing at him. Blotchy cheeks and reddened eyes, but otherwise presentable.
She snapped her fingers, coating his face in glamour to hide the unseemly flush and tears, then opened the door for him.
"Now, show me where the coffee maker is?"
The walk to the kitchen was blessedly quiet. No chattering about childish crafts, no juvenile jokes, no complaining. It was almost peaceful. Irritating as he could be, Lucifer had always responded well to scolding. Part of being brought up in Heaven among his brothers, she supposed. Lost without orders to follow. Perhaps that was all he needed. Perhaps she should be more assertive with him.
The few sinners awake at the early hour gave them a wide berth, though Lilith could feel their eyes on her back. Lucifer could too, if his hunched frame was anything to go by. She supposed being strung up and used as a battery would leave him rather paranoid. A situation he could have easily avoided had he just thought before acting, for once, but c'est la vie. The things he walked into… she definitely needed to be more assertive with him.
Great. Just what I wanted. Two adult children to babysit.
Despite herself, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders as they walked. He immediately melted against her. Touch had always been another effective way to make him listen. She couldn't say she preferred it. The idea of touching him left her feeling rather repulsed, these days, but it wouldn't do to have him break down in the hallway.
The staff kitchen was rather small considering the amount of people it fed, hardly enough space for the island taking up the center. They had clearly been using it as a makeshift dining table, if the stools surrounding it and the lingering dirty dishes were any indication. Honestly, she knew Charlie had wanted to build the place up with the staff and residents, but that didn't mean they had to live like neanderthals.
Running water and staticy humming caught her ear as she made her way inside. She turned towards the sink, blinking in surprise as she spotted The Radio Demon washing dishes—by hand—and humming along to Daisy Belle.
She had not been pleased to hear that Rosie's pet had broken free. The Radio Demon's power would have made quite the difference under their control. It already had. Now, though, the sinner was surely seething, plotting ways to get some petty revenge, likely using Charlie as a target knowing it would hurt more that way. And her sweet, naive daughter would walk right into it with how much influence Lucifer had had over her for the last few months.
The sinner barely spared her a glance before returning to the dishes. Still as uncomfortable around her as the day they had met, she could see it in the lowered ears and stiff movements; scrubbing a mug like the tin man before his oil. A rather cruel irony to have dressed such a proud human in the suit of a deer, even without acknowledging the extremely racist elephant in the room—not that Lucifer had ever cared about that. He gleefully dressed them in whatever suit would cause the most pain; his own little way to harm without hitting. Often without knowing or caring why it hurt each sinner, so long as it did.
Though Lilith knew The Radio Demon was not born during the slave trade era, 1900's America was no stranger to the grimaces of entitled white men who remembered when people like the tenacious sinner were nothing but a slaver's prized bucks and does. She was almost impressed. Lucifer had managed to spit on his metaphorical glove and slap The Radio Demon right across the face without even knowing it.
Chicory and nutmeg hit her nose. She perked up, eyes locking on the coffee maker just to The Radio Demon's left. It seemed Rosie had passed down the recipe for her personal blend. Lilith hoped the former pet was grateful; not even she could squeeze the ingredients out of the other woman, and she owned her.
She let go of Lucifer and made her way across the kitchen. Heaven's amenities had been gourmet, but she had always missed her lover's specialized coffee. Nights at Rosie's had been the only memories to make her truly ache, during her little vacation. Late nights dancing, boozing, talking, fucking, watching the false sunrise with steaming cups of coffee and assorted lady fingers. She hadn't expected to find so much joy in another woman after Eve had betrayed them, siding with Adam during their trial.
But Rosie was so wonderfully different. Charming and conniving and thoughtful to boot. She engaged in difficult conversations. She listened when Lilith had a problem. She compromised. Didn't Lilith deserve that in a friend? In a partner?
She snagged a clean mug off the drying rack and filled it with coffee. Just barely enough left. Perfect timing.
A hand brushed her hip, and she hissed, putting distance between herself and the kicked-puppy look Lucifer was aiming at her. "Don't sneak up on me like that," she snapped, looking away and trying to smother the guilt. She hated fighting with him in public.
"… Sorry." He brought his hand back to his chest, cradling it like she had slapped it away, the drama queen. "I just—'S wondering if you could refill the pot? For everyone else?"
"Are your arms crocheted on?" She glared at him despite herself. What did he take her for, the help? Some subdued housewife? He could refill the damn pot himself if it was that important to him.
Bringing the mug to her lips, she cringed as an acrid flavour coated her tongue. Coughing, she held it away from her face and squinted at The Radio Demon. "This is bitter. How long have you been brewing it?"
The sinner didn't look up from the sink. "Hmm, quite a while, now. I suppose I simply forgot about it."
Lucifer snorted, splashing water onto the counter as he missed the coffee pot. "Old age catching up with you, Alison?"
"Actually, I was hoping you'd put your grubby little hands on it first."
Lucifer gasped and put a hand to his chest, the jerky movement spilling more water. "Alexandria! And I thought we were getting along!"
"My, my! Now what ever gave you that idea?"
Lucifer's attempt to flip the bird—juvenile nonsense—was interrupted by a steaming mug being pressed into his free hand. Where the sinner had gotten it, Lilith didn't know, but it was covered with whipped cream, marshmallows, and what smelled like cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg. There was even a cinnamon stick protruding from the side.
Lucifer blinked one eye at a time (Lilith fought the urge to roll her eyes; she thought he was done with that stupid joke), studying the novelty mug like he had never seen it before. "What's this?"
"Hot chocolate." The Radio Demon pulled another mug from somewhere, reeking of that same chicory and nutmeg blend—without the burned undertone—and took a slow sniff. Never sipping; the sinner suffered the same curse as Rosie. Unable to indulge in anything other than rotten flesh and blood lest they spend the following days vomiting until they collapsed from exhaustion or dehydration. "You and Charlie tend to synchronize when you crave sweets. She's already had hers."
Lucifer glanced from the mug to the sinner, squinting. "Is this poisoned?"
"Only one way to find out~" The Radio Demon bent at the waist and pinched Lucifer's cheek.
To Lilith's shock, he did not bat the sinner's hand away, or even show a hint of discomfort or anger. He simply brought the mug to his lips and sipped. She watched his throat bob. Watched his eyes widen. Watched his skin begin to glow a soft, warm gold.
He could still do that?!
It had been a regular occurrence, before the fall. He would light up like the sun if paid the simplest compliment, if offered the barest minimum of kindness. She had assumed it was angelic biology lost to him since their descent. Why had he never done that with her?
"Well?" The Radio Demon prompted, looking far too smug.
Lucifer huffed, failing to hide his smile behind the pile of whipped cream and marshmallows. "It's alright."
"Well, if it's not to your liking, I could always take it back—"
"No! Fuck you! It's mine!"
The sinner guffawed as Lucifer clutched the hot cocoa to his chest, even lifting his leg to hold the other at bay. The Radio Demon took the opportunity to grab Lucifer's bare hoof and shake, as if it were a hand and they were making introductions. "Quit it, you're gonna make me spill."
"Well, if I recall correctly, you did promise to show me sloppy."
Lucifer choked on his drink. Cocoa splashed over the mug, staining his sweater and splattering on the floor. He fought for breath, wheezing and choking on coughs and aborted scandalized exclamations. The sinner just laughed and summoned a shadowy minion to tidy the small mess.
Was… was that mangy runaway pet flirting with Lucifer? Right in front of her?!
She felt the burn that accompanied her sclera bleeding to black. The sting of her horns poking out of her forehead. The itch of spines trembling along each vertebra, aching to stretch, to impale.
Who did he think he was?
Brazenly flirting with The King of Hell right in front of his wife?! Nevermind the divorce; he didn't know about that! Unless Lucifer had told him… but why would he have? Lucifer didn't have friends, he didn't talk to anyone; there was no way the sinner would know.
And as if Lucifer would ever be interested!
There had been hundreds, thousands of sinners before him who knew how to style their hair (what was that rat's nest on his head?), knew how to dress themselves (homeless used car salesman was hardly what she would call appealing), and knew how to fucking bathe (yellow teeth, breath to make a flower wilt, rot and blood clinging to him like a shadow, it was a wonder the place hadn't been fumigated yet).
He was nowhere near Lucifer's level. And she didn't even like the asshole!
She glared as the sinner slapped Lucifer's back, grinning like the Cheshire cat while he coughed into his sleeve. Imbecile, thinking Lucifer would ever look his way when his first love stood right to his left. With those lopsided eyes and that too-prominent nose and those fake little dimples. Lilith knew what a real dimple looked like, damn it, and The Radio Demon did not have dimples! He was just biting the inside of his cheek! Fucking weirdo.
"Stop—hitting me!"
"Oh good, you've recovered."
"No thanks to you, bitch-tits."
The childish name was met with a hearty laugh.
Lucifer shook his head and reached for the cocoa again.
Lilith snatched the half empty mug before he could grab it.
Lucifer jumped, looking up at her in shock. She tried to school her face into something soft. "I think that's enough caffeine for you. We don't need you choking before you can actually help out." She turned away from the flushed, hurt expression on his face, heading for the sink. Cold air replaced the mug she had been carrying.
She frowned, turning to meet the sharp grin of The Radio Demon, who held the mug out to Lucifer once again. "Now I know this must be quite the common mistake, considering His Majesty's stature, but he is not, in fact, a toddler, and does not need to be told what he can and cannot drink." He snapped his fingers, and the mug began to steam once more as he all but shoved it into Lucifer's hands.
"And neither Charlie nor I appreciate overzealous new hires sticking their noses into rooms they have no domain over. I'm sure our girl would be quit distraught to hear that the peace offering she's been desperate for the two of us to exchange was to be tossed down the drain in a fit of," he gestured vaguely to all of her, "whatever it is that's bothering you this fine morning. So, if that will be all," he turned on his heel and gently pushed a stunned Lucifer towards the door, "you two lovebirds had best skedaddle! It's my turn to prepare breakfast, and I do not allow loiterers in my kitchen!"
Lucifer blinked, looking from the mug, to the sinner, to Lilith, then quickly back to the mug. "R-right. Yeah. Okay. I'll, uh, I'll just poof it in when I'm done with it."
"Much obliged, Your Majesty." The Radio Demon waved him away without looking up from the fridge he had stuck his head into.
Lilith watched Lucifer shuffle into the attached lounge and sit on the couch. She grit her teeth as she heard him finish the drink, the hotel so quiet in the early morning he failed to muffle the slurping despite his best efforts. Always his best efforts and nothing else. No results. No meaningful progress. Just empty platitudes.
The Radio Demon began to hum as he dropped an armful of ingredients onto the counter. Celery, onion, what looked to be cabbage, and other miscellaneous produce she couldn't be bothered to study. "I think," she began, letting her voice lilt into song. The sinner froze, posture straightening like the string of a bow. "You could do. With a little reminder of who you're talking to."
His smile tightened, his bony, grotesque fist shaking around a crushed celery stock. Lilith smirked, taking the opportunity to sway into his space. Rosie had mentioned how much he loathed that. "Don't you forget," she breathed into his face, relishing in the responding snarl, "I know your tune. With just a word to all of Hell, I could ruin you."
She drank in the sight of the sinner's throat bobbing. His ears drooped as he put down the ruined celery. "I think," he replied, voice smooth despite his trembling claws. "That you could do, with a little reminder of what you have to lose."
"Alastor!"
Lilith jumped, whipping her head towards the kitchen doorway. There stood Charlie, red eyes wide and frantic, hair unbrushed, pajamas creased and half undone. Her little girlfriend stood behind her, hoisting that spear of hers in every direction. Charlie panted like she had run a marathon, leaning against the doorframe. "We came as fast as we could, what happened?!"
Alastor put a hand to his ever-present smile. "Oh! Dears, I'm terribly sorry, I must have tuned into the wrong channel!" Static fizzled over his eyes, and the radio perched on the kitchen counter hissed one short blat of feedback. The subtle, shrill beep it had been emitting quieted. "There is no danger, you can both relax."
Charlie blinked, buffering in real time.
Her girlfriend groaned and slammed her forehead into Charlie's back. "Fucking Hell, Alastor, you gave us a fucking heart attack!"
"Yes, yes, dreadfully sorry, ladies. I do hope you're able to go back to sleep."
Charlie sighed, slumped, and pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead. "I guess there's no point. It's almost six anyway." Her gaze flitted up to Lilith. "Oh, hi Mom! Uh… what are you doing in here?"
Lilith forced a smile. "Oh, we were just talking about our Rosie. All the secrets we've shared between the three of us." It was a risk, bringing up her not-so-new relationship so soon. She knew the other woman still rubbed Alastor the wrong way—how that had happened, she didn't know—but she didn't want to make Charlie feel pressured to be okay with it so soon. These things took time. Naive as her daughter could be, Lilith knew she wasn't stupid. She had to have known long before now that she and Lucifer were over. A new relationship, at least for her, was the logical next step.
Charlie cringed, backing into her glaring girlfriend's hold. Shit.
"All appropriate things, don't worry, Darlings." Alastor added, smiling still despite his hunched frame, recoiling from Lilith as much as he could get away with. "I'm sure Lucifer would be happy to share the couch while I prep breakfast."
Charlie's girlfriend spun on her heel, flipping The Radio Demon double birds before making her way into the lobby. Charlie herself huffed out a laugh and spared the sinner a soft smile. "I'll just be a second, I need to grab my apron."
"Take your time, Sha. I truly am sorry for waking you both. Sloppy mistake on my part."
"It's okay. Um… what's your number right now?"
Lilith frowned. Number?
"For you, a seven."
Charlie beamed, practically skipped into the kitchen, and wrapped the mangy thing in a hug. Pressing her face into his gangly, reeking chest. Clinging to his bloodstained apron. Smiling softly when he hugged her back, resting his jutting chin on her head like he had any right to hold her like that. Like she meant something to him.
"Alright, now, that's enough." He patted her cheek until she released him with a giggle.
"Okay, okay. Sorry. I just, I love you, Alastor."
The Radio Demon hummed, turning back to his cutting board. "So you've said many, many times. Now, hurry along while I set the mise en place, hmm?"
Lilith expected her daughter to pout. To tear up and whine at the casual dismissal of her feelings. Instead, Charlie laughed, like the rejection was an inside joke, and made her way out of the kitchen.
"Don't you forget," he met Lilith's fuming gaze, "how much I've meant, to the family you left behind," he snapped his fingers, allowing her to catch a glimpse of three mugs, two topped with whipped cream and marshmallows, one reeking of ginger, before they blinked into existence in front of the lounge's occupants. "And I'm not finished yet."
Lilith grit her teeth. How dare he. Disgusting, slimy little pissant. Gorging himself on her daughter's naivete. Sucking up to her pathetic ex wearing the skin of a housewife; oh, Luci, Dearest, I do hope you enjoy this obnoxious cup of cocoa, made with poison especially for you. Pathetic. Sad. He could never replace her. "Do you honestly think he would ever chose you over a real woman?"
She saw his smile twitch, she did, she did.
"Why, Madame, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. Are you feeling alright?"
Lilith was going to make him wish he had never come back.
Notes
Promised myself I'd never write a fic with Lilith as the antagonist and now we're here *cries* sorry queen. I wonder why she exclusively referred to Alastor as "The Radio Demon" or "the sinner" for the first little while? Also ma'am you cannot froth at the mouth over your ex getting attention, that's not how being divorced works.
Fun fact: Rosie did not give Alastor her coffee recipe, he figured it out on his own after tasting it a few times (had to spit it out after cuz y'know, cannibalism curse, but still, bro has a magical pallet)
This has also been posted on a03 (@ Winter_Songbird)
Summary: Alastor laughs in the face of shame; or at least that's what everyone thinks. When Queen Lilith's return threatens to drag a long-buried skeleton out of The Radio Demon's closet, Alastor reluctantly relies on the other Hazbins to help navigate these new waters. But The Radio Demon has always and will always identify as an instigator first and foremost, and the allure of poking and prodding at such glaring sore spots is just too great to resist!
OR: 5 times Alastor flirts with Lucifer in front of his ex wife to piss her off, and one time they're both literally just standing there, but it pisses her off anyway.
One of my goals this year was to experiment with different types of media, and I've always wanted to try something like this, figured I may as well do it now. I'm no professional (only learned what plug-ins and a de-esser was half-way through the editing process) but I think making imperfect art is important and cool in this age of AI slop.
Not to be cringe online but I'm actually really happy with how this impulsive project turned out and I'd really appreciate if you'd give it a listen (just please don't make too much fun of my voice acting, I'm only one bird /lh).
Audio type: MP3
Software used: Audacity
Length: 4.5 hours in total
