Pardon The Way That I Stare

Jambalaya

The sunless evening in Hell had settled into the kind of eerie calm that only the Hazbin Hotel could foster. Despite the chaotic day filled with trivia games and team-building activities, the night promised a strange sense of normalcy. As it turned out, Alastor had volunteered to cook dinner for everyone, claiming his jambalaya recipe was "to die for."

Lucifer had scoffed at the offer initially, but the smell that wafted through the hotel as the dish simmered in the kitchen was undeniably mouthwatering. It was just after 7 PM when everyone gathered in the dining hall, drawn by the savory scent of spices, smoked sausage, and shrimp, bubbling away in a pot as Alastor worked in the kitchen with Niffty, who flitted around like a hyperactive sous-chef.

The table was a mismatched mix of seats, dishes, and residents. Charlie sat at the head of the table, with Vaggie at her side, their hands resting close but not quite touching. Angel Dust lounged nearby, snickering at some inappropriate joke Husk muttered. Niffty buzzed around, making sure everyone had drinks, while Alastor calmly stirred the pot of jambalaya at the counter, humming an old tune under his breath.

Lucifer sat among them, a strange sense of domesticity filling the air, even in Hell. He hadn't intended to join in on the communal dinner, but after the day's events—and the nagging thoughts that had followed him since last night—he figured he could use a distraction.

When Alastor finally served the jambalaya, setting the steaming dish in the center of the table with a flourish, the table erupted into chatter and activity as everyone helped themselves.

"I'll be damned," Angel Dust said with a grin as he took a bite, "this is actually good, Radiohead. Didn't think ya had it in ya."

Alastor chuckled, waving a hand as if dismissing the praise. "Cooking is a passion of mine, dear Angel. I simply love to serve!"

Lucifer took a tentative bite, surprised by the rich, smoky flavor that exploded across his palate. He glanced at Alastor, who was now watching him from across the table with a pleased smile. Lucifer quickly looked down at his plate, taking another bite to avoid Alastor's gaze, feeling that familiar warmth rise in his chest again.

As the conversation flowed, the group fell into easy camaraderie. Angel Dust recounted one of his more ridiculous encounters with a fellow demon in the city, prompting Niffty to nearly choke on her drink from laughter. Husk grumbled something about everyone being too loud, but continued to refill his glass with whatever was left of the whiskey bottle.

Lucifer found himself actually enjoying the casual chaos, watching as Charlie and Vaggie leaned into one another, whispering and laughing quietly. For a moment, he was able to forget the odd tension he felt around Alastor and just be present. But as the evening wore on, his thoughts circled back to one question he couldn't quite shake.

It was during a lull in the conversation, as Angel Dust regaled everyone with a tale of a particularly strange audition in the living world, that Lucifer suddenly spoke up, his voice cutting through the laughter.

"Charlie," he said, louder than intended, "how did you know?"

The table fell quiet, eyes turning toward him. Charlie blinked, confused. "Know what?"

Lucifer cleared his throat, feeling the weight of everyone's attention but plowing ahead. "How did you know... that you liked girls? That you liked... Vaggie?"

Charlie exchanged a quick glance with Vaggie, who gave her an encouraging smile. Charlie turned back to her father, her expression softening. "Well, I guess it wasn't one thing, really. I always felt more comfortable around girls, and when I thought about the future, it wasn't with a guy. It took me a while to figure it out, but when I met Vaggie... everything just clicked." She squeezed Vaggie's hand, smiling warmly. "I just knew."

Lucifer's fingers drummed nervously against the table, and the warmth creeping up his face wasn't from the jambalaya. He felt the eyes of everyone on him, but none more intensely than Alastor's.

"Why do you ask, Dad?" Charlie asked, her eyes twinkling with a bit of curiosity, but also concern. "I mean, it's not really something you ever brought up before."

Lucifer's throat felt tight. He hadn't exactly thought through what he was going to say next. His mind raced, and before he could stop himself, his gaze flicked to Alastor, who was watching him intently, eyes sharp and glittering. Panic gripped him as the seconds dragged on, the heat rising in his face, spreading down his neck.

"I—uh—" Lucifer stammered, feeling every inch of him wanting to bolt from the table. "I'm just curious, that's all."

Angel Dust snorted loudly, earning a swat from Husk. "Oh, *curious*, huh? That's what they all say."

Charlie raised an eyebrow but didn't push further, though she exchanged another glance with Vaggie. "Well, it's different for everyone," she said, her voice gentle. "Some people just... know. Others take a while. There's no rush."

Lucifer nodded quickly, not trusting his voice, and took a too-large sip of his drink to avoid looking at anyone in particular. The burning sensation of alcohol did nothing to calm his nerves.

Alastor, still smiling, leaned back in his chair, his red eyes gleaming with amusement as if he knew exactly what was going through Lucifer's head. He didn't say anything, but the silence between them felt charged, heavier than before.

Lucifer cursed inwardly, wondering why he'd let himself ask that question. Now everyone was looking at him like he'd just confessed something—and maybe he had, just not in the way he intended. He could feel his pulse in his ears, the room feeling stifling, even though the conversation around the table had slowly resumed.

Alastor, for his part, seemed utterly unbothered by the awkward tension, but there was something in the way he watched Lucifer that felt far too knowing. The faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Alastor's mouth, and Lucifer had the sinking feeling that his question hadn't gone unnoticed.

As the night wore on, and the others fell into their usual lively conversations, Lucifer couldn't stop stealing glances at Alastor. Every time he did, Alastor's eyes were already on him, that infernal grin in place, as if daring Lucifer to acknowledge the growing storm between them.

For the first time in his long, long life, Lucifer was unsure of himself.