All it takes (A charlastor slow burn)

Chapter 12: Hell's Greatest (Grand)dad

Charlie sat in her office, hunched over a pile of documents, each one representing a soul in need of redemption. The soft glow of the dawn crept through the curtains as she groaned, absentmindedly nibbling on the end of her pencil, her mind racing with thoughts of how to improve her redemption program. Despite her best efforts and the slight progress of some residents, not a single soul had yet been redeemed, and the weight of that failure pressed heavily upon her shoulders. It seemed that for every step forward, there were two steps back, leaving her feeling like she was running in circles.

With a tired sigh, she pushed her hair back from her face and leaned forward, her eyes scanning the documents with a mixture of determination and weariness. The next extermination was around the corner, and Charlie was starting to feel frustrated.

She tapped her fingers on the table nervously. The recent events surrounding her son had thrown her off balance, diverting her attention from the very purpose of the hotel. The incessant speculations of whether a child with sinner blood is entitled to continue the royal lineage did not add to her peace of mind. But she couldn't afford to let her personal struggles overshadow her duty as the princess of Hell.

Charlie reached for her mug, the contents of which could hardly pass for coffee due to the absurd amount of sugar. With a practiced motion, she lifted it to her lips, only to recoil with a sharp hiss as the sweet hot liquid scalded her tongue.

A piercing cry tore through the quiet of the morning, reverberating down the hall, accompanied by a distinctive radio crackle that grew louder the closer it got to her office.

Before Charlie could even process the commotion, the door burst open and Alastor marched in, dark circles under his eyes and a tearful Silas in his arms. Charlie had just enough time to place the mug back on her desk before Alastor approached her with a few swift steps and thrust the sobbing child into her arms without a word. Silas nuzzled against her chest and Charlie instinctively drew him close.

"He's yours again," Alastor stated flatly, his voice slightly tinged with static that often appeared whenever he felt stressed.

One of the traits he and Silas shared.

Charlie began to sway her son gently, murmuring soothing words as she rubbed his back which seemed to calm him down a little. She shot Alastor a weary glance.

"It's your turn to have him for the night," she reminded him with a frown while Silas's cries gradually ceased. "He needs stability, Alastor. We agreed on this."

Charlie and Alastor's co-parenting arrangement was still a work in progress. They agreed that in order for Silas to get used to his dad, he would sleep in Alastor's room on certain nights of the month. But it hasn't been going well so far. The boy, while not afraid of the Radio Demon, remained deeply attached to his mom and struggled to adjust to spending nights away from her, regularly waking up and demanding her presence.

"The night is over," Alastor insisted, gesturing towards the window and pointing at the slowly rising sun to back up his words, "and he hardly slept an hour of it."

Charlie let out a sigh, wanting to address his excuse but trying to be understanding of his lack of experience with kids, while Silas purred contentedly in her arms, finally calm.

"Five... well, ten more minutes? Fifteen? I still need to finish this," she pleaded, her gaze drifting to the scattered documents waiting on her desk.

It was still very early in the morning and she didn't want to wake Vaggie, who had been taking care of the baby all day before and needed to recharge. But there was no way Charlie could finish any tasks like this.

Alastor, however, was adamant. "Five more minutes and my eardrums would burst. I played him all the lullabies I know, but he simply doesn't care. You should've let him keep the pacifier."