Pardon The Way That I Stare

Crawl Back Into Your Hole

Alastor and Lucifer strolled down the cracked, cobblestone streets of Hell, hand in hand. The city was bustling, but there was an undeniable shift in the air as they walked. Eyes followed them, whispers filled the space between the usual chaos, and some demons muttered under their breath, exchanging glances as they noticed the unexpected sight—the King of Hell holding hands with the Radio Demon.

Lucifer tried his best to ignore it, to walk with his usual regal confidence, but the tension was there, gnawing at him. Alastor squeezed his hand gently, his way of reminding Lucifer that they were in this together. Still, as they passed groups of demons and sinners, the murmurs became harder to tune out.

"I heard the king's gone soft..."

"That's not right, two men together like that..."

"I always knew something was off about the Radio Demon, but this?"

Lucifer's jaw clenched, and he was ready to whirl around, to remind everyone exactly who they were dealing with. But just as he was about to speak, a particularly bold demon stepped out from the crowd, his voice dripping with disgust.

"Being gay is wrong, and the King of Hell should know better," the demon sneered, his dark, scaly skin glistening under the dim light of the streetlamps. "You're supposed to be setting an example, not flaunting around like—"

Before Lucifer could even process the insult, Alastor let go of his hand and stepped forward with an unsettling grin. "Oh, dear," Alastor's voice dripped with condescension, his eyes glowing a dangerous red, "I don't think anyone asked for your opinion, but since you're so eager to share..."

The demon barely had a chance to react before Alastor launched into a tirade, each insult more cutting and creative than the last.

"You look like someone who's been rejected by both Heaven and Hell, and somehow, the gutter found you more fitting." Alastor's voice was sickly sweet, but it cut like a knife.

The demon stammered, trying to speak, but Alastor wasn't done.

"I've seen mold grow with more purpose than you have. And by the way, darling, that outfit? It looks like your fashion sense died long before you did, but I suppose that's what happens when your personality reeks of ignorance."

The demon opened his mouth to respond, but Alastor waved a hand dismissively, his voice taking on a sing-song tone. "You know, it's funny how the loudest critics are always the most repressed. Why don't you save yourself the embarrassment and crawl back into whatever hole you came from?"

With each word, the demon shrank further back into the crowd, his face flushed with humiliation. Finally, he muttered something incoherent under his breath and retreated, tail between his legs. The surrounding demons watched in awe, some amused, some shocked, but no one dared to speak up after witnessing Alastor's verbal massacre.

Lucifer stood frozen for a moment, not out of shock, but admiration. Alastor had handled it in the most Alastor way possible—sharp, witty, and utterly terrifying.

Alastor turned back to Lucifer, his grin softening as he walked over and took his hand once more. "Now, where were we?" he asked, leaning in to give Lucifer a tender kiss on the lips.

Lucifer couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head slightly. "You didn't have to do all that."

"Oh, but I did," Alastor replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "No one talks to you like that. Not while I'm around."

Lucifer smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him, not just from the kiss, but from the overwhelming sense of protection and care he felt radiating from Alastor. With their hands intertwined, they continued down the street, ignoring the stares and whispers. They were untouchable, together.

And as they walked, Lucifer felt the weight lift from his shoulders, knowing that no matter what, he had someone in his corner.