Challenging Frequencies

The First Deal

It had been just a few days since the hotel had been restored to a bigger, better version of its former glory. Alastor never thought that the establishment would ever be so populous, yet, here he was, serving breakfast for more than just the original cast of misfits he had become accustomed to. His ears stretched, scanning their conversations from the other room as he hummed a static filled tune to himself. He loved the gossip, having a little thing or two to hold over other demon’s heads was only natural for the overlord. He could almost forget the pain that pulsated in his chest, domestic duties bringing a strange joy, a good way to forget the never ending bleeding he was sure he would never manage to clot. The recipe was done before too long, a breakfast his mother had made a million times, salmon with a sweet roll on the side, filled with mixed fruit. He knew that his breakfasts often were met with bewilderment, however, he rarely cared. It wasn’t like he had to eat them himself unless he really wanted to sample his own cooking. He shrugged, plating, and serving the full room of bustling sinners. As he had seen coming, they had complained in hushed tones to one another, well, other than Husk, who knew well that this was as close to a normal breakfast the guests would receive, therefore, he began to eat, listening to Angel Dust without any sort of huff from himself.

Al sat next to his comrade, also sparing a little bit of attention towards Angel’s complaints as he had been talking about an encounter the night before with Valentino. This was cut short as the shortest king to ever grace existence entered the room, arm linked with his spawn, eyes sparkling as he listened to her ideas. Alastor knew he wasn’t actually holding onto any of her words, something he had taken advantage of multiple times, yet, the king’s attention span had still disallowed him to do anything other than look like he was paying attention.

Suddenly their gazes met, and strangely it held, like Lucifer was pulling himself out of a trance. He squinted, almost causing Al’s nerves to spike. As always, the overlord held his composure, and as usual he looked unbothered, “I know I’m the best looking demon here, but I might have to make you pay if you keep looking at me like that.”

Lucifer blinked a few times, cheeks heating up as he managed to look away, “Shut up, bitch, I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“Sure, sure…” Alastor loved pressing buttons, knowing fully he was immune to any sort of consequences.

Lucifer flipped him off momentarily before Charlie stopped him, censoring his finger with her hand, “Dad! Not, in front of our new guests please.”

The king rolled his eyes, but he did put away his gesture, respecting his daughter’s wishes, “Fine, just don’t expect us to get along. I’m far too busy to try and enjoy this asshole’s company.”

“Likewise.” Al nodded, now sipping the coffee Niffty had poured into his cup, her little form walking down the table top and filling awaiting cups.

Charlie tried to de-escalate further, hands on her father’s shoulders as their eyes met, “Come on dad, Alastor isn’t a bad guy. He helped defend us, and he helps us everyday! Just try to play nice.”

Lucifer wanted to argue, but the look on his daughter’s face made his heart melt, “Alright, fine, whatever you wish my little duckie.”

Al snorted a little, earning a little glare from the king before the two picked seats at the table. Neither could have guessed that this conversation would have weight later in the day. Of course, things were never certain in Hell.

Alastor sat alone in his room at the end of the day, hands shaking a bit as he carefully unraveled the gauze from his chest. Blood gushed again, like no time had elapsed at all from the initial wound. He let out a breath, not knowing he had been holding it until that moment. His stitching was messy of course, the pain that shook his core had almost driven him mad while he had tried to fix Adam’s transgression. He swore he would find ways to punish anyone who cared about that damned angel the moment he could get his claws on their flesh. He still couldn’t forgive himself for losing so easily. He likely would never forgive the whole ordeal if he survived the wound.