Splitting at the Seams (RadioApple)

Part 11

Lucifer felt like death warmed up. It was a wholly ridiculous way to feel, considering the altogether lovely week he'd been having, but it was what it was.

It sucked, because he knew if he told anyone they'd think him ridiculous. 'What the Hell is wrong with you?' he imagined in a squeaky, not at all accurate impression of Charlie's voice. Her chibi form seemed to be floating just above him, shaking it's little oversized head disapprovingly as he moped in his pajamas at 5 in the afternoon. 'What kind of a loser has nothing bad happen to him and still acts so dramatic? You're a sorry excuse for a father!'

Funnily, the voice started to sound more like himself at the end of that sentence.

Lucifer had no excuses to give the tiny caricature, no way to defend himself. He knew he was being pathetic, because what kind of primordial being gets the bed-blues after being shunned by a guy he'd known for a whole fortnight at this point?

Michael sure wouldn't be caught dead like this. The thought just made his already spiralling groans rise in pitch, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes.

'Up! Up! Up!'

Maybe if he repeated it enough times it'd kickstart his lazy brain, which didn't want to send those wacky neuron commands to his body.

'Up! Up now! Move!'

Alastor had made his move downstairs a little under a week ago now, and it had been nothing but awkwardness between them since. Not outright shunning, thank goodness, but tense. Alastor actually seemed to be avoiding the shorter man's eyes whenever they happened to meet, and had taken a more active role in replacing his dressings and IV; he'd even returned Lucifer's staff with an insistence he didn't need pity, even though he kept walking with that horrid limp when no one looked. Lucifer left the stupid thing leaning against the wall by Alastor's bed anyway, not having the heart to actually take it back. It wasn't like HE needed it.

Lilith used to tell him he looked charming waving it around. He actually struck himself in the head then, just once with a closed fist, to chase off that thought. No more reminders of old loved ones. Not now. Not when he already was having a Downer.

'Off your butt. Shift your legs. Come on, you stupid asshole.'

Alastor was cooking food downstairs right now. It was probably going to be the best fucking thing Lucifer had ever tasted, because the bastard was creole and Lucifer KNEW how good those dishes were, holy shit, and Alastor probably wasn't even going to look at him when he put the plates out and all of those lovely spices would turn to ash in his mouth and that cold grey feeling would seep through his bones and drag him back under again-

"Dad?"

Hm? Lucifer's head shot up, looking to the door of his hotel room. Charlie? What was she doing here? It wasn't dinnertime yet. When he'd looked at the clock before doing his whole 'hup hup, get up' ritual, it'd only been 5pm, right?

A risky glance to check.

7.30pm. Fuck. Fuck fuck.

That feeling he'd had when Alastor had let him sleep in his room, Lucifer had known it wouldn't last, but still. He didn't want to return to this. He didn't want to be like this.

Ugly tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't want to get out of bed when the sun set.

"Dad? Are you in there?"

'Get a hold of yourself, idiot. Stupid moron. Stupid fucking bastard.'

"Yes, sweetie, I'm in here! I just got caught up in a new project and lost track of time, you know me! Haha - is it time for tea?"

A pause that made cold sweat run down the back of his neck.

"Yeah. Al's just putting it out now. You want me to bring some up for you? If you're really that busy, I mean."

That was a solid out, presented to him on a silver platter. All he had to do was say yes, and he could give up on today like it'd never happened. Like he wasn't spending every second in this luxurious ornate four poster bed wishing he was instead curled up uncomfortably in the little chair by a certain overlord's bed, letting his even breaths lull him to sleep.

Cheesy. Ugh.

No, he had to face the guy someday, there was nothing dignified in burying his face in his pillow to keep away from a man he'd known for barely a fortnight at this point. Charlie deserved a more respectable father than that.

'Just one leg at a time, Lucifer. It's the first day it's been this bad since you got here. It'll only become a bad month if you let it.'

"No, no, I'm coming!" Lucifer called, and finally managed to force himself up into a standing position, the huff emphasising his words. The world spun for a moment, blood rushing from the bottom to the top of him and leaving him lightheaded and fuzzy, but he spoke through it. "It'll do me some good to leave my room once a day, eh? Give me two ticks, I'll be there!"

"Alright... um, i'll set out a space for you then! See you!"

Lucifer kept his eyes trained firmly on the clock as he dressed, refusing to turn away for a moment in fears that it would suddenly jump forward an hour if he let it. Time was always strange when he was like this, either trudging along like it was stuck in mud or speeding by so quickly that he'd seemingly get the monthly Sins calls daily. That couldn't happen right now.

Thankfully, his energy seemed to ever so slowly and painfully replenish as he got ready. A simplified outfit would do - none of those fiddly cufflinks or coat buttons, he'd happily settle with just a button-up and vest. Slipping on his shoes, he studied the clock. 7.40pm. Perfectly acceptable.

Now all he had to do was greet all those (in his mind) highly judgemental faces downstairs, choke down whatever delicious thing Alastor had whipped up, and then slink back upstairs before anyone could rope him into any more obligations. Eaaaasy peasy.