Chapter Text
By all accounts, it was a rough start… but it was still a start.
It took two days of pacing in his room for Alastor to officially decide that he wanted to be a part of raising Apricot. It took another day with both Husk’s and Vaggie’s gentle encouragement for him to actually tell Lucifer.
He went back to Lucifer’s room to request a meeting and they had another very long talk.
Both Lucifer and Alastor were still wary of each other, nerves on a hair-trigger like cats exploring new territory. They were each instinctually hypervigilant, especially around the baby.
During the meeting, Lucifer was excited about Alastor’s willingness to co-parent her, but steadfast in his decision that Alastor could not be around her without his rapt supervision until Alastor’s therapist gave him the green light, which would not be happening for a while.
Alastor reluctantly accepted this, but it did make things a little strained as he was still resistant to seeing a mental health professional. However, he eventually agreed to a full psychological evaluation which would be followed by twice-monthly therapy sessions. He seemed uncomfortable about it but the fact that he was willing to be uncomfortable told Lucifer more than enough to know that Alastor really was trying to better himself for the sake of his daughter. Alastor furtively said that he wasn’t quite ready for therapy just yet but promised that he would be soon, after he’d had more time to collect his thoughts.
They spent hours hashing out how the subject of actual parenting would work between them. The red sky darkened and became light again before they were both satisfied.
While they seemed mostly aligned on the bulk of the basic practices, there were a few hiccups. Alastor argued that a child should sleep in bed with a parent until they were old enough to decide they wanted their own bed. Lucifer shot this down, arguing back that co-sleeping was too dangerous as it increased the threat of “sudden infant death syndrome” or SIDS.
They also disagreed on how they would speak to her and teach her the common language. Lucifer was a baby-talker; he simplified his sentences and softened his consonants to absolute mush with phrases like: “Oh, my pwetty widdle guuurl…!” and “Is baby hungwy…? Baby wan her baba?” Alastor hated this and insisted that they should speak to her properly in order for her to grasp the language more solidly. In the end, they agreed to disagree on that one.
Another slight disagreement was when they discussed proper naming of each other in her presence. Lucifer said that he would like to be called “dada” or “daddy” if Alastor was okay with it. Alastor wasn’t opposed to that at all and seemed to actually encourage it, but Lucifer had some initial qualms about what Alastor wanted to be called:
“She can just call me ‘Alastor.’”
“No, she can’t!” Lucifer argued. “That’s so cold! A child can’t just call a parent by their actual name! What did Jack call you?”
“...He called me ‘Alastor.’”
Alastor sounded a little hurt as he said it, as if feeling negatively judged as a parent by not insisting that Jack call him “dad” or “father” or “papa.” Lucifer started to apologize, but Alastor interrupted him:
“No, I suppose that isn’t entirely true… He couldn’t say ‘Alastor’ until he was bigger. You know how toddlers are… they try to say a word, but they can’t quite do it right and it evolves as they grow. At first, he called me ‘Ah-tor,’ then it became ‘Astora,’ then, ‘Astory,’ and eventually he just called me ‘Story’ or ‘Stor.’ Even when he was older, he only ever called me ‘Alastor’ when he was mad at me.”
Lucifer hummed. “‘Story.’ I love that. Like a story in a book.”
“Well, we did read a multitude of stories together every night at bedtime. And I do mean every night. That’s a parenting structure that I will not budge on. At least one of us will read to her before bed each night. I will take no argument on that one.”
Lucifer wholeheartedly agreed and felt a tiny spasm of regret that he hadn’t already been doing it with Apricot. Of course he should have been reading to her before bed, but since she was still so young he hadn’t seen the need just yet as she didn’t understand many words other than her name.
Oooh, her name… That was another issue that they had to discuss.
Alastor severely disliked the name “Apricot” but he also said that it would be wrong to change it at this point. To be fair, Lucifer really hadn’t meant for the name to stick… it had just been a nickname because he’d felt weird about giving her a proper name without Alastor’s input… but over the weeks she had gotten accustomed to responding to it and, while Alastor didn’t like it, it was yet another thing that he made himself accept. Still, he insisted on the caveat that it would only be her middle name.
After some discussion, both Alastor and Lucifer decided that her official first name would be Elizabeth—or, more importantly, the diminutive form: Betty. Lucifer was allowed to continue calling her Apricot… but Alastor would call her Betty.
Overall the meeting went well and they each left it feeling hopeful.
Slowly, over the following weeks, the two fathers developed a routine that they were both comfortable with. Both guardians would wake early and—together—tend to the baby’s needs each morning, trading off the duties of feeding and changing, each under the other’s watchful eye.
That meant that they had breakfast together every morning in Lucifer’s quarters. The conversations for the first few days of this new routine were strained, but cautiously friendly. Over their plates of eggs and bacon, or fluffy pancakes and sausage—depending on which one of them had cooked that morning—their conversations eventually became more personal. At first they had only discussed the baby, but after a few weeks the conversations became more personal. They learned about each other through casual questions and autobiographical stories.
They bonded. Not because they'd actually wanted to, but because they were trying to be the best co-parenting team that they could be. It started as two men just doing their best to be civil with one another in order to achieve a shared goal, but it ended up being a morning ritual that they each looked forward to.
The awkwardness between them faded to nothing and bloomed into genuine enjoyment. Over their daily breakfasts (and dinners too, after a while), they talked about cooking and books and philosophy and music and theatre as they ate. They even talked about more trivial things, such as their distaste for current fashion trends and their favorite animals. Lucifer gushed about his love of all birds, with a particular obsession with waterfowl. Alastor spoke of his affinity for alligators and even went so far as to call newly-hatched gators “ridiculously adorable with their big eyes and little squeaks and such.”
Alastor went back to working on his radio broadcasts almost immediately after returning to the hotel, just because he just needed to do something. He hid for a while in the distraction because it was a task that made him feel useful, but he also took real enjoyment in speaking over the airwaves.
In the two days that he had spent wallowing in his room after his boxing-match with Lucfier, and the further four days that he had been recuperating at the Morningstar manor, his designated time-slot had been handled by the other staff in the hotel so as not to draw suspicion to the suddenly empty radio broadcast.
At first, Alastor had been mortified to learn that Charlie had babbled over the airwaves for two hours about how great the hotel was during his little sabbatical. Even worse, Angel had essentially gifted Alastor’s audience an auditory pornography experience two nights in a row. Husk had even done a slightly awkward segment on the art of bartending, which actually got good reviews. Niffty, too, had been given airtime. She’d spent her time on the microphone to hysterically rant about “bad boys” and how much she needed them. Calls from men seeking to come to the hotel had reached a peak on that night, overwhelming the phonelines.
Part of Alastor was touched that his comrades at the hotel had kept his show up and running during his absence, but another part of him was just… No. Absolutely NO. What the actual fuck was that shit?
Now that Alastor was back however, he deftly steered the show back to his regular programming. He corrected the chaotic blip that had occurred during his absence and, three weeks later, he was back on course:
News headlines, letters from listeners, submitted music, and his own colorful commentary about the things going on in the Pride ring. No weepy sentimentalities, no orgasmic descriptions of lustful interludes, and no drink recipes—though he was actually considering inviting Husker in to host an occasional guest-segment for that last one. The reviews really had been that good.
Tonight’s broadcast was winding down to its conclusion. Alastor was leaning forward on his desk to speak into his microphone as he closed the night’s performance with Charlie’s insistent final message of redemption (which he was still annoyed by).
“And seriously, folks,” he said, “If you are in need of a positive change in your Hellish afterlife, head on over to the Hazbin Hotel for a small, desperate chance at redemption!”
Alastor spied movement in the corner of his eye and saw Lucifer through the window to the outer room. He was holding baby Betty and she pressed her face to the glass to wave at him. She was so big now, almost a toddler at only five months old. She would probably be walking soon.
How long? Lucifer mouthed at him.
Almost done, Alastor silently mouthed back.
He turned back to his microphone.
“The Hazbin Hotel is the answer to all of your problems,” he said. “It is a place of acceptance and healing. It is a place of reflection. A place of soul-searching and meditation.”
He met Lucifer’s eyes again through the window.
“...It is a place of redemption . No matter how terrible your sins are, you can change. If you are willing to change for the better, then the Hazbin Hotel will be here to assist your metamorphosis. Caterpillars to butterflies, as they say.”
Lucifer smiled fondly at him from the other side of the glass. Betty slapped her hand against the barrier impatiently, frowning down at Alastor.
Alastor held back a laugh and continued to his audience: “You know the number to call. You know where we are. Come join us if you’re smart enough to do so. Which, honestly, seems unlikely for most of you idiots. Still, we’re waiting for you; maybe that makes us the idiots. Goodnight, anyway!”
He switched off the broadcast, forgetting to end it with the cacophonous screams of his owned souls as he usually did. He had other priorities on his mind.
Lucifer opened the door to the studio with the baby sitting in the crook of his elbow.
“Didn’t want to interrupt,” Lucifer said, “but apparently my bedtime story wasn’t enough for her tonight.”
“Story!” Betty said, reaching her little hands toward Alastor.
“Oh-ho! In the mood for more literary exploits tonight, are we?” Alastor said as he took her in his arms. “Well, I think we can manage that.”
The three of them headed toward Lucifer's suite.
“I think she’s starting to rebel against her Exorcist instincts,” Lucifer said as they went into his room. “She doesn’t want to go to sleep at her scheduled time some nights. I think we should encourage it. Do you agree?”
“Absolutely!” Alastor said, laying the baby down in her crib. “She wants to be her own person and not a worker-bee. She wants to pave her own way and not be shacked by her genetics. She’s a fighter; let her fight.”
Alastor opened the drawer in Lucifer’s nightstand to pull out the book that he’d been reading to her.
Lucifer had his own selection of books that he’d been reading to her; picture books designed for young children with uncomplicated words and bright illustrations. She liked those books well enough most nights, but sometimes she wanted Alastor’s stories.
They had begun the Lord of the Rings series and were knee-deep in the first book, The Fellowship of the Ring. Lucifer had initially rolled his eyes over the fact that Alastor wanted to read such a dense and complicated book to her, but she took to it like a fish to water and always quietly listened to his reading until she fell asleep.
Alastor sat on the edge of Lucifer’s bed and opened the book. Lucifer crawled into the other side of the bed and laid down on his back, lacing his fingers behind his head. He’d never said it out loud, but Alastor knew that he also enjoyed listening to his reading of Frodo’s epic quest toward the mouth of Mount Doom.
“Hmm… where were we?” Alastor asked himself in a murmur as he flipped through the pages.
Lucifer piped up, “Frodo and the other hobbits are at the safehouse in Buckland and are arguing about how Frodo will proceed in his quest. Near the end of chapter 5, I think.”
Alastor smiled to himself, privately pleased that Lucifer was so attentive to the story. He went to the page. “Ah, yes. Here we are. Let us continue:”
“ ‘Begging your pardon, sir! ” Alasor said, adopting the good-natured hillbilly accent he had assigned to Samwise’s character. “ ‘But I meant no wrong to you, Mr. Frodo, nor to Mr. Gandalf for that matter. He has some sense, mind you; and when you said go alone , he said no! take someone as you can trust .'
'But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,' said Frodo.
Sam looked at him unhappily.
‘It all depends on what you want,’ put in Merry. ‘You can trust us to stick to you through thick and thin – to the bitter end. And you can trust us to keep any secret of yours – closer than you keep it yourself. But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off without a word.’”
Alastor looked over at Lucifer and saw that his eyes were unfocused, staring at the ceiling as he listened with rapt attention. The sight made something flutter inside Alastor’s chest.
He turned back to the book, readopting Merry’s bright voice:
“‘We are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what Gandalf has told you. We know a good deal about the Ring. We are horribly afraid – but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.’”
Betty’s eyelids had gotten immediately heavy when Alastor started reading, but now they were fully closed. Alastor continued, knowing she wasn’t fully asleep yet. He read through this unlikely set of companions deciding to come together in a perilous journey toward an uncertain end.
When both Pippin and Merry raised their voices in song, he did the same. Lucifer joined him, already knowing the words. In a rich, soft vibrato, they sang:
“‘Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away ere break of day
Far over wood and mountain tall.
To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell
In glades beneath the misty fell,
Through moor and waste we ride in haste,
And whither then we cannot tell.
With foes ahead, behind us dread,
Beneath the sky shall be our bed,
Until at last our toil be passed,
Our journey done, our errand sped.
We must away! We must away!
We ride before the break of day!’”
Alastor held the last note and faded it out to silence. He closed the book.
“Done already?” Lucifer asked, sounding a little disappointed.
Alastor smirked. “She’s asleep. If you want to hear the next bit, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow night. I wouldn’t want to continue without her.”
Lucifer sighed. “I guess you’re right… but I just love this part. I must have read this chapter a thousand times before. Can you imagine? Being a lost and frightened man, forced into an almost impossible task… and your friends are all gathering around you to argue that they will come with you on your journey, no matter how dangerous or tragic it might be? It’s beautiful.”
Alastor put the book back in Lucifer’s nightstand, trying to ignore that persistent little flutter in his chest.
“I cannot even imagine what that feels like,” he lied quietly.
He turned to the cradle to press a kiss to the baby’s forehead.
“Goodnight, darling. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He reached down to tuck a stray curl behind her fuzzy ear, lingering because he didn’t want to leave her. He hated that he could not take her to bed with him, that he couldn't curl around her and protect her and know that she was okay throughout the night. But Lucifer wouldn’t allow him to be alone with her until some “professional” decided that he wouldn’t be a threat to her. Alastor understood and actually agreed with the caution, but it still made him sad.
Lucifer rolled off the bed and stood to accompany Alastor to the door. He had a hand on Alastor’s arm as they approached the doorway, but then he did something that he hadn’t done before: he pulled Alastor close and hugged him in a quick, tight squeeze. Alastor didn’t hug him back but he didn’t shove him away either.
“Good night, Al. I think I might try to make a souffle for breakfast tomorrow, so don't be late.”
Alastor had to smile, even though his savory palate did not generally enjoy the sweetness of Lucifer’s endless pastries. “Hm. Wouldn’t dream of it.”
As Alastor left to go back to his own room, quiet thoughts stirred in his mind. He stepped past Charlie's and Vaggie’s door, gave it a long glance, and then turned a corner to descend the stairs leading down to his own quarters.
He opened the door to his room and was greeted with a warm evening breeze floating out from his new swamp. Lucifer really had outdone himself with its construction, Alastor thought to himself as he closed the door behind him. He had to begrudgingly admit that it was a better, more authentic version than the one that he had created in his room so long ago. He would have thought it was real, if he hadn’t already known that it was a magical creation.
The artificial breeze gusted again and Alastor breathed it in, inhaling the long-lost air of home .
He walked toward the edge of the swamp where the wooden planks flooring the rest of his room gave way to green water, like a thin dock stationed to accept wayward sailors.
He stared out into the falling night, watching the fireflies spin gold light among the whispering trees.
Alastor slowly undressed and let his clothes drop to the wooden floor.
Naked as the day he was born, he waded out into the swamp. The soothing, embracing water came to his knees, then his hips, then his waist, then his chest as he walked in.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to take in a deep, full breath of the beautifully perfumed air, then he dove down under the water and swam toward the golden line of the horizon.
