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(Alastor gets a little flirty, just to annoy Lucifer)

Lucifer didn't waste a second longer once they left the cold confines of the radio tower. Alastor's bloodied form in his arms felt heavier with each step, the Radio Demon's weight a stark reminder of how much he had been pushing himself. The fragile nature of his body in this state was a jarring contrast to the imposing figure Lucifer had always known him to be. The façade of the all-powerful Alastor was gone now, and in its place, was something real—something raw.

Lucifer could feel the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders as he made his way down the hallway of the hotel, Alastor's breath shallow and labored against his chest. There was no time to waste. If Alastor wasn't healed soon, Lucifer wouldn't be able to answer for what would happen next.

The hallway stretched endlessly before him, but Lucifer had long memorized the path to his personal suite. Once inside, he kicked the door open with an air of impatience, taking Alastor straight to the bed.

Alastor let out a strained groan as he was gently placed on the silk sheets, his body seeming almost too fragile to handle the luxurious surroundings. His eyes were half-closed, but there was still that glimmer of stubbornness in his gaze.

"You didn't need to go to such lengths, Lucifer," Alastor rasped, trying to sit up, but his body immediately betrayed him, and he slumped back down with a pained hiss. "I would've been fine, you know. I'm not that weak."

Lucifer didn't answer at first, his eyes scanning the damage—blood, bruises, and several deep gashes that had yet to heal. He bit back a sigh. Alastor's pride was a dangerous thing, but even Lucifer knew there was no stopping him when he was this determined.

"Sit still," Lucifer ordered, a sharp edge to his voice. He moved swiftly, gathering various healing potions and materials from a nearby cabinet. "This is hardly a matter of strength, Alastor. You're in no condition to argue, so you'll keep quiet and let me handle this."

Alastor's lips curled into a smirk, though it was weak, tainted with exhaustion. "Always so commanding, Lucifer. Is this how you always treat your... guests?"

Lucifer paused for a moment, catching his reflection in a mirror as he prepared the salves and bandages. His face was hard, as it usually was, but there was something else in his gaze now—something more unguarded. He hated to admit it, but there was a certain... warmth creeping into his demeanor as he tended to Alastor. It unsettled him.

"I'm not your host, Alastor," Lucifer replied, his tone betraying none of the complexity of his thoughts. "You're not here for my hospitality, and you're not here for anything more than a quick fix. Now, hold still."

Alastor chuckled faintly, even though the pain must've been excruciating. "Quick fix, huh? I suppose that's one way to put it." He arched an eyebrow, his voice taking on a darker, teasing tone. "Though I must admit, I didn't expect this from you. So concerned, so... tender."

Lucifer froze for a moment, the word catching him off guard. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he reached to apply the salve to a large gash on Alastor's chest. It wasn't the physical touch that unnerved him, but the underlying implication in Alastor's words. The Radio Demon had always been sharp with his tongue, but now... it was something else. Something playful. Almost as if he was testing the waters.

"Don't get any ideas, Alastor," Lucifer muttered, his tone clipped and sharp, hoping his growing discomfort wasn't noticeable. "I'm just making sure you don't bleed out before you can explain how this little disaster happened."

But Alastor's eyes gleamed with a mischievous, almost flirtatious edge. "Oh, I'm sure there's more to it than that. You care about me, don't you, Lucifer? It's only natural. The great Morningstar, with such a caring side for his... enemies."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he looked down at Alastor, meeting his gaze with a storm of emotions. "Care? Is that what you think this is? I'm doing this because Charlie would never forgive me if I let you die."

Alastor's lips curled into an even wider grin, though his eyes still held that same flicker of vulnerability. "You care for her, don't you? And in turn, you care for the people she cares about." He watched Lucifer carefully, waiting for him to flinch, but Lucifer's expression remained impassive.

Lucifer didn't answer immediately. Instead, he shifted closer, gently working to clean the deeper cuts on Alastor's arms. He couldn't bring himself to push the Radio Demon away, even though the weight of his words was starting to sink in.

Finally, Lucifer spoke, his voice softer now, though it still carried that underlying command. "She's... important to me. More than you can understand." He glanced over at the small rubber duckies scattered on his bathroom counter, a faint hint of discomfort crossing his face. "And so are you, in a way."

Alastor's smirk softened, as if the words hit closer to home than Lucifer was willing to admit. "Ah, but you'll never admit it, will you? You're so caught up in your own image, Lucifer. A ruler... a father... but not human enough to truly understand anyone." His voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "Not even yourself."

Lucifer looked away, his heart tightening in a way he didn't care to acknowledge. There were so many layers to his existence, and Alastor had a way of peeling them back that Lucifer wasn't prepared for. But in this moment, in this room, it didn't seem as important. What mattered was the man lying in front of him. Alastor. The Radio Demon who had been a thorn in his side for so long, now so fragile—and somehow, it made Lucifer feel... something. Something he couldn't name.

He stood up abruptly, grabbing a soft towel to clean his hands. "I don't need your pity," Lucifer said, his voice rougher than intended. "And I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this because Charlie deserves a world that's better than the one we've built for her."

Alastor, now more relaxed despite his injuries, watched Lucifer closely, his eyes twinkling with something far deeper than mere amusement. "Oh, Lucifer, if you only knew. Maybe you're not as immune as you think."

Lucifer gave him a sharp, warning look as he gathered the healing materials. "Stay quiet. Let me finish this."

Alastor, ever the rogue, simply smiled again—half-smirking, half-soft—his breath shallow but steadying. "As you wish, my dear Morningstar."

The room fell into an uneasy quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio and the faint sound of rubber duckies bobbing in the corner of the bathroom. There was so much left unsaid, but for now, Lucifer kept his focus on Alastor. One step at a time.

(I'm gonna stop putting the amount of words I write, it makes me feel a bit pressured to write more than I can-) (Srry guyss)

(LONG CHAPTER AHHH)

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