We all know Alastor is great at seeing what people want most, what they fear, how their emotions can so easily be played. It’s how he got Charlie to make the deal when she knew she shouldn’t. He’s so good at knowing how to make people vulnerable and get under their skin.
There’s just so much ammo for Lucifer when he shows up. An absentee father, an even worse king, his entire family cast him from his home to burn forever and then his wife left him too, the one who was known for being capable. The fact Charlie is naive enough to see Alastor as a father figure as well just perfectly plays into it, and from the start, it seems so easy to get to Lucifer of all people. Someone who’s supposed to be so great, so easy to crumble with his ego and emotions.
Those initial interactions were a shock to Lucifer’s system. How dare a sinner speak to him with such open disrespect? What choice did he have but to fight fire with fire? (read: song battle)
But then the surprise of it all starts wearing off. He knows to expect it. He saw how broken Alastor was after fighting Adam, a reminder of just how fragile sinners’ souls are compared to that of a fallen seraphim. At the same time, Charlie had happily accepted Lucifer back into her life as her father. It’s not going to erase the years spent apart and his struggles with depression, but it’s a start. And he knows Alastor’s no real threat to him.
So at some point, Alastor’s jabs start being met with casualty, almost dismissively. It shifts from a playful annoyance like calling him short to something… well, cutting deeper. He doubles down upon how Lucifer abandoned his daughter, all so that he could hide with his toys, making himself a fool in his own nation.
Lucifer’s just making coffee. Saying that’s probably true, but Charlie is a kind soul who let him back into her life.
Not the reaction Alastor wanted again. So he pressed further, even blaming this dismissive attitude he had now as being why Lilith left. How could she have ever loved a man too scared to engage. She was always at the forefront of the show while he was too busy being buried in shame to be an even decent partner.
“One of many reasons, I’d guess”
It really irritates Alastor how much this isn’t getting to him. Lucifer had come to the hotel a terribly insecure man, so easy to mess with. And now, nothing?
Over the course of a week or so he keeps trying. And Lucifer just isn’t reacting. He cannot for the life of him figure out why. He knows everything he mentions is still an upset, it’s obvious in the way he talks with other people or the things he avoids, but it’s like he has some sort of verbal armor to Alastor’s attempts at drawing out a reaction from him.
The sad truth just ends up being that, whatever Alastor says, Lucifer’s said worse about himself. He’s had years to find every little detail about himself that could’ve been the catalyst for Lilith leaving, every little trait she likely despised for centuries, tearing apart the blurring memories of her face to see which expressions were genuine. Either everything about him, every step he’s made wrong, everything he’s lost or been forced to give up, he has a list of 20 things minimum as to why it’s all his fault. Alastor’s brutality is a toddlers insult compared to the things he thinks about himself.
The devil is madly depressed and just vibing his way through life ❤️
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Eddie draws on the edge of Steve’s hip, where his shirt rides up from stretching across Eddie’s bed. He’s humming to himself a song Steve doesn’t recognize, but it soothes him.
“What are you drawing?” Steve speaks softly; something about the moment feels gentle. He doesn’t want to break it.
“Hmmm, it’s a secret.” Eddie peaks beneath his bangs and smiles.
Steve leans up on his elbows, “Well, that’s not fair; I think I should know what’s going on my body?”
Eddie only looks at him with mischief as he continues to doodle. “Be grateful, Harrington. You’re getting an original Munson for free.”
Steve can’t help the laugh that escapes him. It is just like Eddie to say something like that. Playful and mean, it makes something settle in Steve. For a long time, he only knows the pain from harsh comments or a sentence with a bite. It is a welcomed change, to feel a bubble of happiness after a light jab.
“Whatever you say, Munson. Just let me see.” Steve tries to push up further to sneak a peek, but Eddie uses his free hand to push him down to the bed. He just happens to catch Steve off guard, sending him into a sprawl that can only be described as a starfish.
“I’m not finished yet.” Eddie grabs his hips and pins him still while he draws. After a few more moments, he says, “Done!”
Steve looks at his work and releases a snort that breaks the careful tension between them. “Are those boobs?”
“Why yes, they are, and a good representation if I say so myself.”
“Do you even know what boobs look like? Like the live version?” Steve knows he should be mad at the sharpie-drawn breasts on his body, but he can’t find it in him to have an angry tone.
“We’ll no. I don’t. And I would much prefer to keep it that way.”
Steve chokes on his spit a little bit, “Did you just come out to me, Eds?”
Steve isn’t sure what he expects. Denial, maybe, Eddie taking back what he said. Steve knows he isn’t handling this right. He doesn’t think Robin would be too happy with his response.
Steve thinks maybe he should see a little bit of fear in Eddie’s demeanor. That shakiness that comes with telling someone a dangerous secret.
What he gets, in the end, isn’t something he could have predicted. Eddie smiles softly, a little bit of his tooth peeking out, and lays his head gently on Steve’s leg. He’s calm and collected. He’s happy, Steve realizes.
“Yea, I guess I did. Not like it was much of a secret, though. Are you upset?” Eddie draws soft circles around the drawing on Steve’s hip—the rough callous on his thumb contradicting his tender touch.
Once again, although the conversation should be anxious, it’s not. Eddie’s question is spoken like he already knows the answer. Maybe he does.
“No, Eddie. I’m not mad. Never would be for that. Just thought it was a funny way of sharing a secret. Though, gotta admit, a very you way of doing it.”
This time Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, before settling back down on Steve’s leg. His giggles never really settled. “Like I said, Stevie wasn’t much of a secret anyway. Well, between us, that is at least. I like to think some, if not all, the kids are oblivious.”
“Erica definitely knows.”
Eddie’s eyes widen in mischief, “Oh, for sure. Pretty sure she would kick the others' asses, too, if they gave me shit for it. And she kicks hard too.”
It’s Steve’s turn to laugh. He’s never had this before, this casualness to serious conversations. Before, Steve is used to screaming and punching, drunken confessions in the bathroom, and throwing up on the mall floor. It isn’t like this, now, with Eddie in his trailer bedroom. It’s good. It’s safe.
“Thank you for telling me, Eds. Something like that is hard to share no matter who you tell it to.”
The softness is back again, “Like I said wasn’t much of a secret. Besides, I don’t think there isn’t any secret of mine you don’t know, Stevie. I think even when I don’t tell you, you kinda already know, don’t you?”
Steve leans one arm forward, while he places his weight on one elbow. He gently takes Eddie’s face in one hand, rubbing circles in the same motion as Eddie’s thumb on his hip.
God, I want to kiss him so bad sometimes, Steve thinks.
“Yea, I already know.”
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