Chapter Text
“Bartender, a whiskey, please.”
He sighed, leaning forward so his elbows hit the counter hard and his palms slamming against his eyes caused sparks to ignite in front of his eyes, dancing around in swirls of technicolour. It had been a long, emotionally and physically draining day. Enlightening too, but even the exuberance and passion Charlie had for her work wasn’t enough to keep him going.
“Take that depression”? It was kicking his ass. Lucifer was afraid his days of endless energy were millenia behind him.
After their heart to heart three weeks ago, he’d made the effort to visit at least once a week. Something to allow him to be a part of his little girl’s life, to show he cared and was listening and wanted to help. Even if that meant letting her prattle on for an hour about the progress one of her guests were making - Sir Pentious, today - before he skidaddled and let her carry on without him lingering in her periphery.
Today though…
It had been especially hard getting out of bed. Maybe the ‘FIERY FLAMES OF HELL’ had finally flambeed him, like roux burnt and clinging to the bottom of a frying pan Lucifer had struggled to separate himself from his mattress. He’d very nearly skipped his visit, his blankets feeling like lead weights settled over him and his body was made out of soggy pasta. Even turning off his alarm had made him want to pass out and give up. It would have been so easy! To exist where and as he was and let time flow around him. After all, why would he burden his little Char-Char with his sorry self when he was feeling so shit?
No, he’d simply disappoint her again .
So he hadn’t! He’d rolled out of bed and practically crawled to the bathroom to start getting ready for the day. With every article of clothing he’d puffed himself up, widened his grin and hoped his eyes wouldn’t look as dead as he felt inside. Until he’d popped on his hat with a flourish, winked and aimed two finger guns at himself in the mirror. Bang bang .
Like those pathetic sinners hoping to keep their Overlord Masters happy, Lucifer had kept the energy up and his smile wide and had forced the smothering fog from his brain as he’d joined the activities. Which was probably why he was feeling like he’d collapse any second now. He felt like he could sleep for a week. A month, even! A year! This was more socialisation than he’d had in the last thousand years!
Lucifer looked up at the clack of his glass being placed down in front of him, immediately reaching for it. He sipped on the beverage. Let it sit on his forked tongue for a moment, before he swallowed, savouring the burn.
But he couldn’t let Charlie down. This was only the third week after all. He had to keep this going. And Lucifer had to admit (to himself, because like fuck he was going to let Charlie know just how much of a fuck up her father was), whilst he still felt heavy and exhausted and gross - like he was struggling to keep himself tethered to reality - he did feel better. Slightly. Just a bit. Seeing Charlie just did that to him.
He could picture her smile as he joined in with ‘sharing their feelings’. Could feel the heat and care in her arms every time she swaddled him in a hug. Lucifer’s heart throbbed in his chest, radiating warmth to his every extremity. His sweet girl. He was so proud of her. Sighing through his nose, he took another sip.
But Lucifer didn’t want to go home, now that he was out. Just the thought of returning to his empty rooms made him want to hurl and scream and shatter into a million pieces. His ducks, once a simple hobby, mocked him for his loneliness. He could feel their beady eyes as he moved around his room. Could hear their little thoughts, smothering and unyielding, as he worked on his projects.
Loser.
Pathetic.
Worthless.
Failure.
Lucifer hadn’t wanted to hear it from them. Today was tough. But it was good. He wanted to keep it going.
Which had led him to this hideous bar.
“Heard ‘bout what you said to the Princess. That sinners, we’re disappointments.”
“Oh?” Lucifer’s eyes slid over to the old, furry barkeep, watching as he stowed his wares in one of the many fridges and cupboards beneath the bar. He looked as tired and done with the world as Lucifer felt.
The cat demon grunted, “Personally, I agree with you. Not many sinners lookin’ to redeem themselves.” He took a long swig from a bottle of Cheap Booze.
Lucifer’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, “Seems like a strange thought for one of the employees of this fine establishment to have.” Scarlet eyes examined the bright, neon green chain around the sinner’s neck, listened as it clacked as the cat demon idled and moved, “though I suppose you aren’t here by choice?”
The demon levelled him with a glare and growled, the fine points of his claws gleaming under the lights, “none of your business.”
“Fair enough.” Lucifer acquiesced with a shrug, downing the last of his drink with a satisfied hiss. He pushed the glass away.
A sharp, scratchy growl of glass on wood called out to him and Lucifer looked down just in time to catch another beverage as it slid along the bar in front of him. It had left a shiny trail along the bar, like the trail of a snail. The furry fellow was already wiping at it, rag tattered and stained from reuse. The perspiration on the outside cooled Lucifer’s heated fingers and the ice within tinkled against the glass as he lifted it.
“Rather presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” Lucifer said as he swirled the honeyed liquid around, brandishing the glass as he grinned at the barkeep.
“I can take it off your hands, but it looks like you need it.”
The King of Hell laughed, “You’d be right. What can I call you, friend?”
“Name’s Husk.”
“Lucifer.”