LOVE OR SEX || Radioapple

Chapter 08

The next morning, the air in Lucifer's apartment was heavy with silence, interrupted only by the faint sounds of the city outside. Alastor was sitting by the door, having fallen asleep while keeping watch throughout the night. His posture, rigid even in sleep, spoke of a man always on guard, even in the safest of places.

Lucifer stirred in his bed, his eyes slowly opening to the sight of Alastor sitting there, slumped but still upright, his quiet presence a strange mix of comfort and irritation. Lucifer had always been used to having space—emotional and physical—but Alastor's constant, stoic loyalty was becoming something he didn't know how to feel about. Was it devotion, or something else? And why was Lucifer even thinking about it? He shook the thought from his mind, not wanting to delve into any feelings that might complicate things.

With a sigh, Lucifer sat up in bed, glancing at Alastor. A smirk tugged at his lips as he called out, "Alastor."

Alastor jolted awake, quickly standing up, his face expressionless but clearly alert. He straightened his jacket, blinking a few times to shake off the sleep. "Boss," he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Lucifer swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching languidly. "I'm on my way out. You're in my way."

Alastor quickly stepped aside, though his expression remained blank. Lucifer glanced at him with a teasing grin. "You're still in those clothes from last night. Change."

Alastor frowned slightly. "My clothes are in the office, boss."

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically, standing up and walking to his closet. He rummaged through his wardrobe for a moment before pulling out a bright tiger-print shirt and pink pants, tossing them at Alastor. "Here. Put these on."

Alastor caught the clothes in one smooth motion, looking them over as if they were perfectly acceptable. He gave a small nod. "Thank you, boss," he said, his face still completely serious as he began to undress and change.

Lucifer, now lounging back on the bed, watched with growing amusement. The sight of Alastor, so stoic and calm, putting on a mismatched, flamboyant outfit without even questioning it, was too much. A slow laugh bubbled up from his chest, and soon he was openly chuckling, his hand pressed to his mouth as if trying to suppress it.

Alastor, fully dressed in the tiger shirt and pink pants, glanced over at Lucifer, clearly confused. "Is something funny?" he asked, his face neutral.

Lucifer let out another laugh, shaking his head. "No, no... it's just—" He gestured to the clothes. "You look... good. Really good."

Alastor looked down at himself, inspecting the outfit. "These are fine," he said simply, not understanding what Lucifer found amusing. "They fit."

Lucifer's laughter died down into a smirk as he shook his head, resting back on the bed. "Oh, Alastor... you really don't get it, do you?"

Alastor simply stood there, awaiting further instructions, his confusion growing. To him, the clothes were functional, and if they pleased Lucifer, that was all that mattered. The concept of them being funny or strange hadn't even crossed his mind.

Lucifer, still smirking, waved a hand dismissively. "Forget it. Let's get going." He stood up, sauntering past Alastor, who followed closely behind. Despite the amusement, there was still that strange feeling gnawing at Lucifer, something about Alastor's unwavering loyalty and complete obliviousness to his provocations. It was both frustrating and oddly endearing.

As they left the apartment together, Lucifer found himself glancing at Alastor every now and then, the tiger-print shirt and pink pants standing out against the usual muted tones of the city. He still didn't fully understand why he was growing so attached to Alastor's presence, but for now, he shoved the thought aside. Lucifer wasn't one to dwell on feelings—not when there was still so much else to control and manipulate in his world.

And yet, as they walked side by side, the dynamic between them felt more complicated than ever.

As they stepped into the elevator, the usual tension between them seemed to hum in the air. Alastor, always alert, noticed Lucifer's slightly disheveled appearance from the night before and his lack of attention to practical matters. "Boss," Alastor began, his voice steady, "do you need any... underwear?" His tone was flat, practical, as if this were just another task in his job description.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Now you're my personal shopper too? Sure, pick something out if it'll make you feel useful."

Alastor nodded, unbothered, and stepped out of the elevator as they reached the ground floor, walking toward a nearby store. Meanwhile, Lucifer, ever the opportunist, reached for Alastor's phone that had been left on the counter by mistake. He unlocked it with ease, flicking through the messages, half out of boredom and half out of curiosity. He expected something scandalous or at least interesting, but instead, he found simplicity.

The last few texts were from Mimzy, Alastor's sister. Lucifer's eyebrow twitched as he scrolled through the thread:

Mimzy: "Morning."

Alastor: "Morning."

Mimzy: "How are you?"

Alastor: "Fine. Busy."

Mimzy: "Okay, stay safe."

It was the same, over and over. Morning. Morning. Fine. Okay. It was shockingly mundane, almost painfully so, considering the chaos of Lucifer's own life. He snorted to himself and put the phone back on the counter just as Alastor returned with a small shopping bag.

"I grabbed what you needed," Alastor said simply, handing the bag to Lucifer.

Lucifer glanced at Alastor, his smirk returning. "I checked your phone."

Alastor didn't flinch, didn't react as most people would. Instead, he simply gave a slight nod. "There's nothing there but my sister's messages."

Lucifer let out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Morning. Morning. Morning," he mimicked in a dry tone, mocking the dull repetition of the texts.

Alastor looked slightly uncomfortable but remained calm. "We don't talk about much. Just check in with each other," he explained.

"That's it?" Lucifer leaned against the wall, clearly unimpressed. "No deep conversations, no secrets?"

Alastor shook his head. "No, boss. That's usually it."

Lucifer rolled his eyes but didn't press the issue further. "You're really something else, Alastor. I'm beginning to think you don't even have secrets."

Alastor's expression didn't change, but there was a quiet tension in the way he stood. "I don't have much to hide, boss."

Lucifer stepped closer, his voice lowering to a more provocative tone. "Everyone has something to hide, Alastor. I'll figure yours out soon enough."

Alastor's gaze remained steady, though there was a flicker of something deeper behind his eyes—something even Lucifer couldn't quite read. But instead of answering, Alastor stayed silent, giving Lucifer the bag with the clothes he had just purchased.

Lucifer smiled, a mix of amusement and intrigue. "You're a mystery, Alastor. But I like mysteries. They give me something to do." He took the bag from Alastor's hand and walked past him. "Come on. I need a drink."

As they headed out into the city once again, the dynamic between them shifted subtly. Lucifer, always the master of control and manipulation, found himself increasingly interested in Alastor's quiet resistance, his unyielding calm. And though Alastor kept his feelings hidden behind that stoic exterior, there was no denying the complicated bond that was beginning to form between them.

Something neither of them was quite ready to confront.