Chapter Text
The little custom-crafted brass bell over East of Eden’s door tinkled merrily in the early morning air as Lucifer Morningstar unlocked the front door and stepped inside to begin the day.
Technically, the shop wouldn’t open for hours yet, but being in his haven was preferable to…well.
The little apartment over the shop was just so lonely these days now that Charlie had gone off to college. It hadn’t been so bad living alone in the wake of his divorce when he had his happy little duckling running around the house. Hell, even the wild, angsty teen years had been preferable to the sterile silence he existed in now. Charlie’s things were packed up and occupying a dorm room states away from him, which left their humble home feeling far less cozy than it had before the term began.
He had no real purpose when he was up there. There was no one to take care of, nothing to do, and no one to talk to but himself. His whole world was down here now.
Lucifer breathed in deep as he crossed the threshold of his shop, drawing the scent of ink and paper and coffee into his lungs. It was a deep, soft, amber-coloured scent…the scent of comfort and serenity with the promise of lovely things to come. It was his second home, and a place he strived to make a home for others in whatever way he could.
That ritual started in these peaceful hours. Right here. Right now.
Moving through his own personal paradise, Lucifer took everything in just as he did every morning. He never took a single detail for granted.
East of Eden was so much more than just a place.
The whole shop looked like it had been plopped right here in the middle of a bustling cityscape from another time and place entirely. He had eschewed more sleek and modern aesthetics while renovating it all those years ago, the floors turned out in genuine hardwood and the furniture just a little bit dated. Reading nooks were arranged with stuffed chairs in emerald and gold hues, lovingly christened with fluffy pillows for those who craved just a touch more comfort. The shelves that housed books for sale were built directly into the walls with his own hands, their facing covered in whimsical carvings according to whatever genre they housed.
The children's section remained his favourite.
All of the shelving there was lovingly adorned with carvings meant to stir the imagination - mermaids darting along under rows of books while ducklings frolicked with faeries. In places, the carvings were worn shiny from the curious touch of little fingers, but Lucifer hardly minded. Charlie had been the first, after all, and how could he begrudge such innocent appreciation of his work? He’d covered the floors in that area with thick-pile rugs for comfort and to protect tender knees from bumps and spills. Lucifer had even tucked a box of teething books and toys off to one side to occupy those who hadn’t yet learned the love of reading. Sure, it meant a ton of sanitizing every night, but it was worth it.
Parents deserved to know that their children were being thought of by someone who cared. Lucifer knew only too well what it was like to go it on his own…to feel like you were the only one watching out for the most special kid in the world. He’d sure hate to feel like any other parent felt that way in a space he had designed.
Golden morning light shone in through the expansive front window, lending the whole bookstore and cafe a burnished, antique feel and Lucifer smiled for the first time of the day.
To work.
The small blonde nodded smartly to himself and began to walk across his humble dominion to the cafe corner tucked away from the main shopping and reading floor, rolling up the soft sleeves of his red cardigan.
The café itself had been another thing he’d absolutely insisted on, part and parcel to his mission of making people feel welcome…like they had an escape from an unforgiving world outside. Good stories went better with little treats that warmed the soul - simple sweets, robust coffee, flavourful tea - so Lucifer aimed to provide them. It was nothing fancy. There was no pretense to what he provided. Muffins, cookies, croissants, and the other usual suspects all adorned his bakery case, the ingredients collected locally to keep everything affordable. A bowl of fresh fruit graced the order counter specifically for children, all sourced from the weekly farmer’s market he always made a point of attending.
Lucifer pushed open the little saloon door that blocked off the employee-only space behind the counter from the patron-accessible areas. The first order of the day was reaching up to a low shelf and flicking on the radio so he could catch his favourite show. The knob clicked loudly in the quiet cafe before soft jazz filtered in, filling the air with the Billie Holiday’s brassy croon. He’d have about another thirty minutes of music before the presenter would switch over to a news hour, which helped him time out his morning. Coffee beans needed to be fresh ground and the first brew needed to be started before the music stopped.
It was silly, really. This hadn’t always been his routine. He’d usually had the radio on in the background to amuse Charlie or to keep himself occupied while she was at school, but it had always faded into the background before. Just a slurry of top 50s hits that were catchy in the same way cotton candy was sweet - overly so, and just as quick to fade. The disc jockeys had blandly attractive voices that all blended into one another like junk food for his ears, but it sure as hell beat being alone.
Then, about a year or two back, the whole schedule had changed up.
One morning, Lucifer had gone to turn on his radio and instead of the thumping beat of whatever was currently charting, he was treated to the lively work of Blanche Calloway. This wasn’t just adrenaline wrapped in a beat. This was passion. He’d felt his shoulders unknot that morning at the same time his soul woke up. This wasn’t candy for his ears, it was a meal.
So, he’d worked through that last thirty minutes of a music hour already in progress, bopping through his routine rather than just ticking it off a list. He’d shimmied and then laughed at himself for shimmying to the sound of big band melodies from decades long past. How long had it been since he’d felt free to be truly silly like that on his own? Sure, he was a big goof around Charlie (always had been), but he hadn’t been this pleased with himself in ages.
Then the music hour had ended and the presenter (deejay didn’t feel right for a voice like that) began to speak.
Lucifer had immediately frozen in place when that voice graced his radio for the first time ever, nasal and colourful in all the ways a man’s voice was normally groomed not to be. He had playful highs and dignified lows to his speech, bounding through the morning’s news with an outdated transatlantic patter that did weird things to the bookstore-owner’s chest. Every word was crisp, the script was tight, and that voice just fit in the walls of East of Eden.
So that had been that. A peculiar little golden-age piece of programming (charmingly called the Ghost Radio Show) became just another facet of the shop’s ambiance.
Whistling along with the tune currently playing, Lucifer puttered around in the cafe. The growl of the grinder almost drowned out the music, but it could be forgiven for filling the air with the rich scent of beautiful dark roast. Lucifer sighed in delight, reaching into the bakery case to rearrange today’s offerings. He was particularly proud of the orange cranberry muffins and he truly hoped his usual patrons enjoyed them.
He quickly knocked out a handful of other tasks to get the service areas ready for the day before eagerly returning from the back in anticipation of his usual presenter.
Only…
A voice Lucifer only half-recognized drifted out of the speakers instead of his beloved slice of antique normalcy.
It was a female voice that only took over on occasion over the last couple of years, perfectly bright and cheery with a sort of northeastern twang. The presenter was competent and really she was the perfect replacement for the usual, but it was just a disappointment. It was like hoping for a sip of tangy orange juice and getting a mouthful of water instead. Both would sustain you, but it wasn’t what you’d been craving. Lucifer’s spirits sank and he sighed, privately hoping everything was alright just as he always did.
Oh well…there was still work to be done.
Lucifer frowned to himself but kept on moving throughout his morning routine.
Once he had the coffee going and the cafe under control, he moved on to straightening shelves and restocking the titles that needed it. He went over to the sales desk and flipped through the personal orders before matching them with deliveries he’d gotten last night after hours. He sketched out a list of calls to make that day and was just checking his watch when an unwelcome shadow darkened his door.
Still feeling grumpy about being deprived of his favourite morning programming, Lucifer grumbled and prepared to ignore the early arrival. He still had at least….
He double checked his watch and noted with a sinking feeling that it was, in fact, 8:00am on the nose and officially time to open.
Drat.
Groaning, Lucifer moved out from behind his desk and walked up to the front door without the usual pep in his step. He flipped the sign to open and paused to look up and see who had shown up quite so early in the morning (since he was relatively unused to receiving patrons until half past). Once he dragged his eyes up the glass, he felt his bland expression growing just a touch closer to true displeasure.
It was him.
Of course it was.
‘Him’ happened to be a handsomely dressed demon of a man who stuck in Lucifer’s good moods like a splinter. Oh, he was beautiful…lean like a young deer with a deliciously antiquarian style, soft chestnut curls, velvety-looking ears, and sly mahogany eyes behind glinting wire-rimmed lenses. His voice had the faintest Louisiana drawl to it and frankly it was unfair how attractive the younger man was, especially given one unfortunate fact.
He was a dick.
That malicious little twink was a dyed-in-the-wool menace who had done nothing but shatter Lucifer’s peace from the very day they met. Nothing Lucifer ever did was good enough, and the leggy bastard criticized everything about his business from the way the shelves were arranged to the lack of savory snacks in the cafe area. He snarked about sugary coffee offerings and turned up his nose at all of Lucifer’s attempts to be a gracious host. Frankly, Lucifer had been tempted to ban him a few times just for being a pompous little shitlord, but…he was still a good patron.
He was quiet in the reading areas, put in orders tidily, cleaned up after himself, and even tolerated the children when they were noisy. Hell, he was downright gallant to the poor mothers who found themselves in over their heads. The only person he seemed to take delight in tormenting was Lucifer, and that…well…it didn’t seem like a good reason to throw someone out. Plus, sometimes (just sometimes!) Lucifer caught himself staring unwillingly at the cut of those slim trousers over a pert derriere…
Ugh, inappropriate.
Lucifer shook himself out of his spiraling thoughts and flipped the lock with a heavy breath through his nose, pushing open the door and standing aside, “...Good morning, Alastor. You’re here early.”
“I wasn’t aware we had an appointment,” Alastor drawled, accent softening the edges of his consonants, though not his arrogance.
“...We don’t, but you usually come in around five on weekdays. I’ve never seen you here in the morning,” Lucifer said with a tight jaw, trying not to start this whole damn day off on the wrong foot.
Alastor raised a fine eyebrow at him, a smirk blooming like a rotting flower across his too-pretty, punchable face, “Well, well! Good to know I’m memorable, my dear!”
Lucifer wanted to bite him, but until the incorrigible little shit stepped inside, then propriety had stuck the bookshop owner holding the door so instead he snipped, “Hard to forget my own personal bridge troll.”
“Oh! Hello, Mr. Morningstar!”
Lucifer’s heart sunk at that painfully familiar voice, warm as noon in summer and creaky like an old porch. Already cringing himself to death internally, he raised sparkling blue eyes to see none other than his second favourite person in the world standing next to his least favourite person (maybe). His other early morning guest was a dark-skinned woman in a neat day-dress and jacket, black hair pulled back in a bun that was neat as a pin just as it always was.
“Ms. Delphine!” Lucifer squeaked, almost fumbling the door.
Delphine DuBois was one of the absolute best people working the farmer’s market Lucifer attended every week, the proprietress of the best damn bake table ever. She was retired but spritely, keeping the table for extra funds and because she enjoyed being around the bustling atmosphere of the market. If not for that, Lucifer would have hired her to run his own café ages ago. Instead, he just swung by once a week to buy far too many sweets and spend some time talking.
Simply put, she was an angel. All the more reason it made no sense for her to be accompanying his own personal devil at the absolute wrong hour of the day.
The older woman chuckled and reached over to pat Alastor on the arm, “...Well, I see you already know my son, Mr. Morningstar. Saves an old woman time on introductions! Pardon me for showing up so early, dear. Alastor just agreed to take me somewhere for breakfast and you talk so much about this place! I felt sorry I’d never made it over so I thought it would be lovely to come by for a visit!”
Lucifer’s stomach did a weird little cha-cha behind his belly button.
On the one hand, his heart went warm and gooey in his chest at the idea that one of his friends would think about his little place for breakfast just because she wanted to visit. On the other hand…Alastor was Delphine’s son?! God, the universe was a comedy and Lucifer was apparently its chief clown.
He cleared his throat politely and smiled genuinely, “It’s okay, Del! I was just surprised is all. I’m so happy to see you. Come in, come in and I’ll get you set up.”
“Yes, well, I warned mother there was nothing to be had but sugar here, but - “ Alastor began to chime in with that nasty little snide tone of his.
Delphine was quick to cut him off, “Tut! Alastor DuBois, it is far too early in the morning for the devil to be in you, boy. Ou ta ka bezwen yon ti kras plis dous!”
She turned to Lucifer with an apologetic smile, “Forgive me. He’s a good boy, but got a little more acid in him than manners.”
Lucifer nearly swallowed his tongue in glee at the mutinous look Alastor shot him behind his mother’s back. Suddenly, missing his favourite radio announcer and having to deal with his worst customer didn’t seem so bad after all!
“Maman…” Alastor hissed pleadingly.
Deciding to take pity on his foe, Lucifer smirked back at him before turning his full attention to Delphine, guiding her through his sanctum of peace, “Well, Alastor shows up early and Miss DuBois graces my shop with her presence! What’s the occasion? Unless, y’know, there’s not one.”
“Oh, it’s my birthday! Not sure how many I’ve got left in me so Alastor always takes the day off of work and takes me out somewhere. Well, this year I wanted to see your shop. I have to say, it’s lovely, dear. Not often you see a place without acres of drywall and chrome. Reminds me of my granddaddy’s place…if he’d had a budget, you know.”
Lucifer gently got her situated at one of the small tables in the café area, happy to ignore Alastor for the moment (though he haunted his mother’s shoulder like a particularly salty ghost), “Birthday, huh? Well, you know that means your breakfast is on the house, right?”
“Mr. Morningstar, I won’t hear of it,” Delphine sniffed, straightening in her seat even as Lucifer moved back behind the counter, “I wouldn’t do such a thing to another business owner.”
The little blonde only laughed from behind his counter, “And I’m sure you charged me full price for every beignet I bought the day Charlie moved off to college?”
The older woman huffed gently at him and suddenly Lucifer could see the family resemblance.
He raised a good natured hand at her, though his eyes drifted over to where her son settled himself elegantly into a chair next to his mother, face curious rather than coolly superior for once. Lucifer tried to go back to ignoring him as he said, “Well, I know what Alastor wants, but what can I get you, Del?”
Her rabbit-brown eyes drifted up to the menu and she hummed, “Well, if you’re going to insist, then you can get me a cup of orange pekoe and…hm…suggest something from the bake case.”
Lucifer brightened. This was the first time Delphine would get to taste his baked goods!
He caught Alastor’s eyes watching him with a glare writ large across them and decided to play it cool, taking the time to at least pretend he was thinking it over (even though he already knew he was going suggest a muffin). They were good! He knew they were good! They were some of the best things he’d ever made and maybe if Delphine liked them Alastor might fucking cool it for a little while. Lucifer tapped his cheek and made a show of considering before, at long last, he reached for one of the gorgeous, fluffy muffins and plated it neatly.
“Well…” he began while setting out another plate for Alastor’s usual croissant before pivoting to begin preparing a cup of tea and coffee respectively, “If you dislike my sweets as much as Alastor does, I can’t promise this will suit you, but I happen to think these cranberry orange muffins are the duck’s pajamas.”
“Cat’s pajamas,” Alastor corrected archly.
“Hm?”
“The expression,” his personal bugbear ground out while adjusting his glasses, “Is ‘the cat’s pajamas.”
“That’s weird. But okay, I guess,” Lucifer said with a shrug.
He considered the choked noise of frustration a point in his favour as he carefully balanced plates and mugs, nudging open the cafe’s swing-door and walking around.
Delphine placed a hand over her mouth to hide a smile and Lucifer wondered if she knew her son was an asshole too. If only fate were so kind.
The little blonde had just arranged their food for them (already deciding he wouldn’t be charging Alastor either if only for his mother’s sake), when the little bell over the front door jingled merrily. Lucifer’s head popped up and he saw a frazzled single father who had been coming in lately shuffle in. Adam looked like an ungroomed bear and had the volume of a rock concert, but once again Lucifer had been lenient. The opposite of Alastor, the guy never bought books for himself, but spent a good deal of time in the children’s section with his kids, which earned him a lot of grace. Even now the guy looked like a stretch of bad highway, but Lucifer noted he had his two boys’ hands gently wrapped in his meaty fists, a baby girl passed out drooling against his chest in her carrier.
He gave Del an apologetic look and hustled over, “Morning, Adam! Oh no, is Cain still having issues?”
Adam gave him a look that was half relief and half annoyance, “Cannot get this dude to stop picking fights with his brother. Look, y’mind if I…?”
He jerked his thumb at the children’s section.
Lucifer nodded, “Go ahead. We got the latest Loona Moon book in last week. I know Abel likes those, so maybe that’ll keep the peace. Usual coffee?”
“Black as you can get it, pipsqueak,” Adam yawned and Lucifer nodded.
He didn’t take the insults personally.
Adam was a tough case. He wasn’t exactly charming or easy to get along with. He was blunt and brusque, but he had deliberately picked a place that his kids liked and not just to earn himself some free babysitting. He remembered what books his kids liked and he watched them the entire time. He didn’t parent in the same soft way Lucifer preferred, but he knew the guy legitimately loved his weird little blended family. He was just a tired house husband who was trying to keep shit together and boy, if Lucifer didn’t get that.
He watched the big man shuffle off with his kids towards the peace of the children’s section and sighed. That was the kind of person Lucifer kept East of Eden open for…not the easy ones, but the ones who needed it.
He looked back over his shoulder towards where Alastor sat with his mother and they talked in low voices at their table.
Yeah…even for him.
Rather than interrupting the birthday conversation, Lucifer slipped back into the café kitchen to check on a few items in the refrigerator. He’d made it about halfway to the rumbling appliance before he heard Alastor’s sonorous voice cutting through the hush. Oh fuck…was he about to eavesdrop?
Yeah, he was absolutely about to eavesdrop.
Hating himself, Lucifer sidled further from the fridge and listened near the cocked door.
“We’re hardly friendly, maman. He just happens to run the only bookstore in town who understands the value of atmosphere,” Alastor sniffed.
Lucifer blinked. Alastor thought the shop had atmosphere?
Delphine clucked, “Be that as it may, you didn’t tell me you knew this place when I asked to come. How long have you been coming? Even if you aren’t friends, Lucifer certain seems to know you.”
There was a heavy sigh.
Then Alastor said, “...Do you recall my…altercation with Vincent in my junior year of college?”
His mother sounded unimpressed, “Your breakup?”
“It was not -,” Alastor rushed to say before lowering his voice, “It was what it was. Things were…difficult. School was stressful. You think I ever forgot how long it took us to save the money? That I dared to let my grades slip even a little…?”
“Hush, now,” Delphine said sharply.
“It’s a fact, maman. Gracious me, what a fuss. The point is that I was avoiding the apartment, I needed peace, and I needed somewhere quiet to study. Lucifer Morningstar is an idiot with terrible taste, but his shop is…”
Lucifer remembered.
With sharp clarity, he remembered the skinny Alastor who had first started coming into his shop in the evenings four years ago. He’d already been dressed like a little gentleman, but there had been sleep-deprived bruises under his eyes and his curls had been tangled like he’d yanked his fingers through them one too many times. Come to think of it, that harried look that lurked around the edges of his prim bitchiness was probably one of the reasons Lucifer had given him so many passes in the beginning (fit of his trousers notwithstanding). Lucifer had caught him reading heavier texts sometimes, but had always assumed he was a professor from the local University, not a student.
Whuff, well that made him feel even worse.
Hell, he’d remembered the night he’d changed his mind…
~*~
Lucifer was absolutely done with that deer-eared prick. He was.
He’d been a jerk all day since he’d swanned in at about three in the afternoon, bitched about the state of the shop, whinged about the quality of the coffee, and then promptly installed himself in one of the quieter reading nooks. Why did he even bother coming to East of Eden if he hated everything about it so much? Lucifer would take the hit on his special order payments if it meant getting rid of the guy’s particular brand of cruel for the foreseeable future.
As it stood, it was already thirty minutes past closing.
Every other patron had left politely at least an hour ago with quiet farewells. They’d cleaned up their trash (mostly), re-shelved their books (...mostly), and made their purchases with little to no fuss. Lucifer was ready to close up and head upstairs to his apartment. Charlie had been struggling lately with the rigors of high school and he wanted nothing more than to go spend time with his little duckling. She’d probably give him that disappointed look again, but college was looming on the horizon so he’d take any attention he could get.
However, Alastor had yet to show his face. He was probably still planted in his seat and gleefully waiting for Lucifer to come fetch him just so he could insult him again. That was the brand of bastard he was.
Every minute that ticked by while Lucifer meticulously cleaned out coffee makers and wiped down steamer nozzles made him more irate. He might have slammed the bakery case closed harder than he meant to after he was done packing out the day’s leftover baked goods. They’d be going to the local food bank, but he wouldn’t be able to get there if Alastor didn’t leave already.
That tore it.
Sure, maybe his temper was a little thin and this wasn’t actually that bad, but…
No! Nope!
Enough was enough.
Huffing, Lucifer threw a rag over his shoulder that he’d been using to wipe down counters and stalked over to Alastor’s preferred nook. If he wasn’t so irritated with the young stag, Lucifer might have grudgingly admitted that he had good taste since it was his favourite too, but he wasn’t feeling quite that gracious today. No, sir.
His shoes tapped against antique hardwood floors as he rounded the alcove that hid the nook…and paused.
Alastor was still in his chair alright, but he wasn’t poised with that shit-eating grin on his face that promised only misery for the people around him. No…instead of lurking like one of the harpies guarding the gates of Hell, he was hunched over in his seat, ears airplaned out flat, and face in his hands. His normally neatly coiffed hair looked flat from being tugged at, his pokey little antlers sticking up far more visibly than usual. That was weird. That posture was way more suited to Lucifer than Alastor.
Lucifer lurked at the doorway to the nook, taken aback by the scene unfolding before him. Some of the bile bled out of him and his mouth relaxed from its hard line.
He wondered whether he should say something.
Maybe…but no.
Alastor was a proud asshole and this looked like a moment of weakness. He’d probably rip Lucifer a new one just for seeing it. He should probably just back away slowly, put the baked goods in the kitchen fridge, and do the drop-off in the morning…
The younger man took the option away from him by sighing out, “If you are going to grace me with your sparkling lack of wit, please do get it over with.”
Normally that would piss Lucifer off, and he even felt the soft burn of it in his gut…
“...We closed thirty minutes ago,” was all he mustered though, and even he could hear how quiet his voice was.
Alastor straightened sharply and turned to look at him like he’d just said the sky was purple. Then he promptly lifted his wrist and rolled back his shirt cuff to examine his watch (Lucifer had never seen him anywhere near a cell phone). He stared at the timepiece like it had personally betrayed him before rubbing his sinuses and making to rise.
“Apologies. I didn’t intend to keep you late,” he replied tightly.
An apology from Alastor was the nicest thing Lucifer had ever heard and it knocked him even further back, “...It’s fine. Were you buying anything today? I’ve already balanced the till, but I can set it aside for tomorrow for you…”
Hell, he knew Alastor was good for it and would probably let him get away with an I.O.U.
Alastor breathed out sharply through his nose, putting himself to rights and gathering up his books to shove them in his satchel, “None today, so that won’t be necessary.”
Lucifer wanted to ask. The words were crowding behind his teeth.
“Goodness, but where does the time go?” Alastor whittered on, not giving him the opening.
He likely didn’t want Lucifer to ask at all, which was why he was continuing to talk. Oh boy, did the older man recognize that behaviour. He’d done it enough times himself.
Reaching up to scratch at some of the pearlescent scales on the back of his neck, Lucifer cut through his stream-of-consciousness babble and made up his mind to leave Alastor’s business alone, “It happens. Adam falls asleep in the kid’s corner sometimes. No harm, no foul.”
Alastor paused to stare at him, satchel strap settled over his shoulder, “...It does, yes.”
He looked confused. Maybe he was expecting Lucifer to snap at him, take advantage of catching him with his proverbial trousers down. They just looked at each other for a minute before Alastor broke the spell and reached down to grab his forgotten cup of coffee.
He waggled it in the air, “I’ll dispose of this in the bin outside. I assume you’ve already emptied the trash.”
Lucifer didn’t hear the slosh of liquid inside. He could bitch about the coffee all he wanted, but Alastor never left anything but dregs behind.
“Ah, thanks for that. Back in tomorrow?”
“Indeed,” Alastor said, heading for the door with a smart clip as if he intended to flee the scene of his own humiliation, “Must keep you on your toes, yes?”
“Yeah…” Lucifer mused, not rising to the bait for once while they marched through the closed store, “What would I do if at least one of my customers wasn’t mean as shit to me?”
His tone was surprisingly mild as he looped around Alastor to hold the door open. Once again, he caught the stag considering him curiously before replying, “Indeed. Tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” Lucifer said, watching as his least favourite customer disappeared into the evening, the memory of his bowed back lodged in Lucifer's brain like a tick.
~*~
Of course, he’d been back in full bitch-mode the next day, but just that single moment had definitely changed Lucifer’s mind about getting rid of him as a client. So, he’d been a student at the time with financial worries, huh? That would explain why he’d been such a nightmare then (though not necessarily why he continued to be one). More than that, it seemed like he’d been having personal troubles.
Damnit. Lucifer didn’t need to be eavesdropping. He owed Adam a cup of coffee.
He didn’t stop.
He tuned back in just in time to hear Alastor turning the question back around on his mother, “...which begs the question how you seem so familiar with him, mother.”
Delphine took a moment (likely sipping her tea) before responding, “He’s one of my best customers at the stall, and he’s always been so polite. A little on the shy side, of course, but a gentleman.”
“Wait,” Alastor’s voice again, dropped even lower so Lucifer had to strain to hear it, “Maman. Don’t you dare tell me that Lucifer Morningstar is your ‘cheri ti koulèv’ you’ve been attempting to ‘hook me up’ with? Him?”
“He’s a charming man, very grounded with his own business,” Delphine said without a single shred of anything resembling shame in her voice, “He’s already got a grown daughter, so no fussing about children. Excellent temperament, so he won’t treat you like that nasty Vox boy -”
“Vox and I were not an item, mother, and besides -”
“And,” Delphine added like a raptor swooping in for the kill, “He’s such a fan of your radio show. Goodness knows he's always late for early set-up hours at the farmer’s market just to make sure he doesn’t miss it! I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to at least meet him…not that I knew you’d already met, of course.”
Alastor was saying something else, but Lucifer couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. His face was hot as a furnace and he was finding it rather hard to swallow his own spit. That voice on the radio that he cherished so dearly was Alastor?
Things began to add up in his brain.
Alastor was coming in earlier than usual. The day he'd taken off work to bring his mother to breakfast just so happened to coincide with a substitute announcer for the Ghost Radio Show. That same radio show only played the classics from decades long past and Alastor looked like he’d stepped out of an issue of Der Herr from 1935. They were both tenors with lyrical ways of speaking. The accent was different, but those could be trained.
Lucifer could have slapped himself over getting Lois Laned like that.
So the best part of his day was also his most annoying customer…and Delphine had been trying to set them up?
What the fuck.
What the fuck?
Realizing he’d been missing for way too long at this point and his stomach was full of bees, Lucifer let out a soft hiss and swept back out of the kitchen. He put on a smile that he was sure bordered on manic and heard the second Alastor and his mother stopped talking, meaning he’d been spotted. He pivoted on his heel and caught the two of them watching him with nearly identical velvet-brown eyes. Lucifer felt stupid all over again. The resemblance was so strong, so how had he never made that connection either?
Alastor’s gaze was calculating, like he was measuring Lucifer up anew. Oh god, now he knew that Lucifer was a fan. Damnit, he was going to be insufferable.
Forcing himself to move, Lucifer walked over to their table and tucked his hands into his pockets so neither of them could see how his fingers trembled, “Hey! Sorry about that. How’s everything?”
Delphine chuckled in that fondly knowing way specific only to Southern mothers and threaded her fingers together around her teacup, “Just lovely, Luci. Where do you source your tea from? This pekoe is so smooth.”
“Oh! Uh…” Lucifer tried desperately to untie his tongue, feeling the way Alastor’s stare burrowed into the side of his head, “It…um…oh! Yeah, it’s from the Warm Hands Health Store across town.”
“That granola-fed spiritualist camp masquerading as a green grocer?” Alastor said with a raised eyebrow.
Okay, business Lucifer could talk about (even though it was damn hard while he was dissecting every aspect of Alastor’s voice in his brain), “Yeah. I try to buy local because it keeps costs down in the café and I can check quality before I buy. Say what you want about them, but if hippies know anything it’s sourcing quality tea ethically.”
He fiddled with the lint in his pocket while he continued to ramble about the shop, “It just makes sense, you know? I don’t want the bookstore to be inaccessible for anyone. Books are expensive these days, but quality ingredients for snacks don’t have to be. Like…I know some people just come in to read even if they can’t buy the book yet, but most of them will at least buy a treat. Make it easier for them and you’re guaranteed a sale…and…y’know…happier customers.”
Alastor was still watching him.
Delphine hummed and gave him a little smile, “Oh! Speaking of books, would you mind telling me where your true crime section is? I think I’ll treat myself this morning.”
Oh, no no no, don’t go and leave him alone with the most confusing buck in all of creation…
Lucifer swallowed and tried to think quickly, “Oh! I can show you…”
“Nonsense! I’d like a wander. Just point me in the right direction, dear.”
Fuck.
Smiling a little tighter, Lucifer nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he’d heard all day, “It’s closer to the front of the shop, far away from the kids’ section. It’s the shelf next to murder mysteries. Please have a look around and see if there’s anything you like.”
“Lovely! I’ll just have a look.”
Alastor gritted out, “Mother, if you’d wait just a moment for me to finish my coffee I’ll accompany you.”
“Nonsense!” Delphine said, standing with a swish of her dress and leaving her chair pointedly out, “I hardly need an escort to go pick a book. You sit here and finish your breakfast, sweetheart. You’re taking me for a walk after this, so you’ll need the food.”
And then she was gone in a swirl of vanilla scent and the whisper of fabric.
“That woman is a terror,” Alastor sighed.
“She uh…she’s a force of nature, yeah,” Lucifer swallowed and rocked on his feet next to the table like a little boy.
Alastor rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses, ears held high, “Oh, do sit down before you knock yourself over. She’ll dither over there for hours until I at least have a conversation with you. No one does stubborn like maman.”
Lucifer eyed the younger man warily, “And be a captive audience for you to rip me wide open? Not feeling it, Bambi. Plus, I really need to get Adam his coffee order..."
“Stop being dramatic. Mother would have my antlers if I was rude where she could hear me…and she has superb hearing,” Alastor groused and sipped his coffee, pushing out his mother’s abandoned chair with a hoof, “Sit.”
Feeling like a prey animal cornered by a superior predator (which was hilarious really considering their animal aspects), Lucifer slowly sat. He could hear jail cells swinging shut in his brain as he was trapped with the man he both lusted after and loathed. This could only end badly and he was already dealing with enough today, but there was no getting out of it. The minute his ass hit the seat, Alastor hooked the leg of his chair around a pastern and dragged it in so there really was no escape.
“So,” the younger stag drawled as he set his coffee cup down on the table with a deliberate ‘click’, “How much did you hear and how long are you going to pretend you didn’t hear anything?”
Lucifer squeaked and balled his hands in the fabric of his trousers, “I didn’t -”
“I also have excellent hearing, Lucifer. You went into the kitchen and stopped moving entirely.”
Blushing so hot he was sure his face would catch fire, Lucifer hunched his shoulders and groaned, “...I only heard from when you were talking about why you like my shop.”
“I trust you’re going to be unutterably smug about that?”
“No,” the older snake said honestly, scrunching and un-scrunching his trousers, “I mean, I’m surprised because I thought you hated me and the shop, but I’m happy you don’t?”
Alastor huffed, “You know, a touch of ego wouldn’t kill you. Very well, then. So you know my mother has designs on introducing us for romantic purposes, though heaven only knows why.”
“...Sorry about that. I know it has to be annoying for you…having your mother eyeing up old men for you when you’re just out of college. I swear, I’m just her Farmers Market Friend,” Lucifer hastened to reassure the stag.
“How old do you believe I am, Lucifer?”
“Uh…early twenties? How old do you think I am?”
“I know for a fact that you are thirty-eight, married quite young, and had your daughter young. Mother has reported your entire life story to me except for the fact that it was…well…you. I’m twenty-nine, if you must know. I started university late in my adulthood because I had to save a considerable amount of money. No one was rushing to hand me a scholarship,” Alastor replied blandly, “I graduated at twenty-seven and had a job offer before I left. I’ve had two years with my radio show…of which I understand you are quite a fan.”
Lucifer brought his hands up to hide his face, feeling how hot his cheek scales were, “...How smug are you going to be about that?”
“Oh, dreadfully.”
“Great.”
“Don’t take it so personally,” Alastor hummed, “I’m smug about a great many things to a great many people.”
Snorting, Lucifer dragged his hands down a bit so just his eyes were visible, “Cool, so you’re an asshole to everyone.”
“Just so. You’ve been quite fun to rile over the years, however. It’s part of the appeal,” Alastor smirked at him, picking at his croissant.
“I almost threw you out over what a huge asshole you were!” Lucifer blustered, clawing his hands up around his cheeks in frustration, humiliation forgotten in the face of their more familiar dynamic rearing its head, “What would you have done then, prick?”
“Language,” the younger man (though thankfully not scandalously so) said, though there wasn’t a comeback forthcoming. Instead, his eyes focused somewhere north of Lucifer’s left shoulder.
He pondered for a moment before stating, “You never brought the night I overstayed up again.”
“You really wouldn’t have wanted me to,” Lucifer informed him, folding his arms over his chest.
Alastor raised both brows towards his hairline, ears flickering, “And how do you know that?”
“Uh, the same way I knew I didn’t want people bringing up how I felt about my divorce? It’s in the posture and the way you were talking. You were going a mile a minute to make sure I couldn’t ask,” Lucifer said, “That’s the thing nobody gets about going through shit. Sometimes you really don’t want people to talk about it…especially not the half-stranger you’ve antagonized every day since you met.”
“That’s…quite astute,” Alastor replied, which was now the nicest thing the prickly asshole had ever said to him.
“Oooo, do I get a gold star?”
Now it was Alastor’s turn to fold his arms, “You bounce back from a remarkable amount of abuse, I must say.”
“Buddy, I’m a divorcee who raised a teenage girl alone. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I work in retail. I fear nothing,” Lucifer batted back, “Least of all deer with bad attitudes and big mouths.”
“Hm,” the younger man said, unfolding his arms from their knot to rest his elbows on the table between them. He threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on the backs of them, staring unblinking at Lucifer for a very long time indeed until declaring, “You’ll do, I think.”
“Uh…I’m sorry?”
Okay, the conversation had taken a sharp turn that Lucifer wasn’t entirely prepared to follow.
“Listen. My maman will hound me until the day I’m in my grave if I don’t at least make a show of courting. She frets, you know. I don’t find you odious and she is absolutely charmed by you. What do you say to one date? My mother sees me ‘playing the field’ as it were and when I tell her nothing came of it, she’ll have no choice but to leave me be.”
Lucifer’s whole world stopped with a sharp record screech that had nothing to do with his antique radio.
He could feel his eyes widen in his face, expression going utterly blank as he tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. First he met his worst customer’s mother, then his mother ended up being one of his best friends, then his worst customer with the world’s tightest ass ended up being his favourite radio show host, then it turned out Delphine had been trying to hook them up on the side, and now the utter bastard was inviting him on a sham date? Lucifer couldn’t decide if he was the luckiest guy on the planet or mortally offended.
“I will say ‘please’ if you require it.”
Lucifer held up a hand, “I think what I’d prefer is an explanation. Alastor, you’ve bullied me for four whole years. Why on earth would you even ask me that?”
Alastor tilted his head, “Because you’ve been a remarkably good sport about my bullying for starters. For another thing, you understand discretion far better than I would have expected.”
“I’m so flattered.”
“And…it would make maman happy. She’s been so worried that I’m ‘closing myself off’. I think it would settle her if I could at least be seen to try, especially with someone she thinks highly of,” Alastor finished his proposition that sounded suspiciously like an elevator pitch.
Well, that required some chewing on.
The Lucifer that lived south of his belt-line was ecstatic in the way only maleness could truly be, of course. A drop-dead gorgeous younger man was asking him out on a date…the same drop-dead gorgeous younger man he’d eyed for years. He’d have an excuse to walk close to him, go out with him, be seen with him. On the other hand, the Lucifer that lived north of his shirt-collar was slamming the brakes as hard as he could. Alastor was a customer and nine years his junior at that. Sure, it didn’t cross any ethical boundaries, but it was still weird. Besides, if it went badly then it could be terrible for business. Would Lucifer even be able to listen to his favourite show anymore if this whole thing went tits-up?
But then the Lucifer that lived behind his ribcage, beating away and mediating between brain and dick offered a more reasonable line of thought.
He was already friends with Alastor’s mother and she was worried about her son…she saw Lucifer as someone who could take care of him. That was a lot of trust. There was also the fact that Alastor seemed to trust him with asking at all. This could just be a friendship favor…and it might even get the younger man to lay off of him a bit if he did this for him.
Yeah.
Okay.
Just a favor for a friend and a maybe-friend who needed a hand.
Lucifer sighed through his nose and slowly his face collapsed into a rueful smile, “Eh, what could it hurt? Charlie’s been nagging me anyway. Not like I’ve had a date since…well. Y’know. Since. I can’t afford anything fancy, but we could do something nice.”
“And what is ‘nice’ in your estimation?” Alastor asked and it sounded like a challenge.
“Well…I think it’s important to hear what you think is nice. You’re half of this equation after all,” Lucifer volleyed back and watched as Alastor’s eyes glinted.
Hopefully that had been the right answer.
“And if I said my idea of ‘nice’ was a trip to the new jazz exhibit at the Cultural Center?”
Lucifer’s heart fluttered a bit and he smiled before he could stop himself, “Wait, is that open? I didn’t know you could get tickets yet!”
Alastor huffed and it almost sounded like a laugh, “Well, I suppose that answers that. Fine then, you choose food and then the date, I suppose.”
It was another test, but lucky for Lucifer he knew the radio schedule inside and out.
“I’ll think about food, but how does Sunday afternoon sound?” He offered, knowing that the Ghost Radio Show didn’t run on Sundays.
Alastor’s ears flickered and Lucifer counted it as a victory as the younger man said, “Sunday it is. Shall we meet at the museum?”
“Never thought I’d say this again, but yeah. It’s a date,” Lucifer said and then lowered his voice just to make absolutely sure Delphine wouldn’t pick up on their discussion, “Just a friendly thing with no hard feelings?”
“I would appreciate if you saw it that way,” Alastor reassured him, holding out one of his slim hands across the table.
Lucifer could barely believe he was doing it, but he closed the gap and shook.