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The day had started like many others in the Hazbin Hotel, bustling with activity and energy….and noise.. Lots of it.
Lucifer was doing his best to manage the chaos, the clatter, and the usual hustle of life in the hotel. As someone who was used to control, it had been a challenge to adapt to the unpredictable atmosphere here. And by mid-afternoon, it had gotten even more difficult as the noise rose even more.
Lucifer had been keeping himself together and was able to ignore the way his skin pricked at the sounds or how the bright lights in the hotel lobby made his head ache.
Alastor, charming, eccentric and observant, had noticed that something seemed off with Lucifer. He had been quieter than usual, less engaged in banter. At times today, his partner was found pacing in a corner of the room cracking his knuckles or quickly flapping his hands and fidgeting. So, Alastor had approached him.
“Ah my dear, darling–you seem troubled?” He had practically sung the words, his smile wide as ever, though his eyes held concern. “Want me to commit mass murder for you? You know it would be my pleasure.” He gave a grand gesture.
Lucifer had stopped his pacing and scoffed. The offer was sweet in its own strange way. “Tempting.” he murmured, trying to keep his voice steady.
Lucifer really didn’t want to be…fawned…over right now. He didn’t want to try and explain how the world around him felt like it was closing in and everything was too sharp or too loud. So, he managed to give a small laugh . “I’m fine, Alastor.”
He wasn’t…
And dinner was the final strike.
They were finally at the end of the day and all the hotel residents had gotten used to a shared dinner with each other in the common area, a lively affair with food, music, and conversation filling the room. Alastor, as always, was trying to make everything feel grand and theatrical. He threw out his characteristic winks and smiles, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but Lucifer’s discomfort was becoming increasingly evident.
Lucifer, despite his best efforts to push through, felt the pressure mounting. He had been fighting the urge to lock himself in his room all day. Something that, when he lived alone at the palace last year, was quite easy and convenient.
His mind raced and bounced back and forth, trying to focus on the conversations, but the noise kept escalating around him. The chatter of Husk, Angel Dust, Nifty, Vaggie, everyone–was like a dull hum in his ears. Their voices and the scraping of utensils on plates and the clinking of glasses were all blending together and creating an overwhelming wall of sound. He gritted his teeth, trying to push it all aside, but it was becoming harder to maintain his composure.
To try and get his mind off of it, he decided to try and eat the food that Alastor had made. Some new dish that he didn’t know the name of…it looked.... like it had a lot of different textures to it…different and new flavors.... that on another day he would be excited to try, but right now? Right now, the thought of eating it made him nauseous.
His fingers twitched, pulling at the sleeve of his shirt as his body started to respond to the stress.
Alastor, noticing the subtle shift in Lucifer’s posture, tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “Lucifer, my dear, you seem a tad… off. Perhaps a little too much excitement for such a refined soul as yours for one day?” Alastor’s voice was soft, but filled with that unmistakable theatrical charm.
Lucifer barely managed to smile in response, though it was strained. His body didn’t want to talk–-didn’t want to add to the noise. But he forced out a sentence. “I’m fine, Alastor. Just… tired,” he muttered, his gaze flickering around the room.
But then, just as Lucifer thought he would make it through dinner without having to excuse himself to his room, and maybe even eat some of his dinner…disaster struck.
While Lucifer was holding his glass of red wine, just about to take a sip, Alastor’s radio that was filling the room with light jazz, fed back with a loud high pitched shriek–startling an already on edge Lucifer and making him drop his glass in his lap–spilling all over his clothes.
Lucifer’s clothes, usually pristine and perfect, now had a large splash of crimson wine soaking through his custom made attire…. It was the final straw. The sensation of the wet fabric clinging against his skin, the sticky feeling, the sharp scent of the wine—everything came crashing down on him all at once. He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over and hitting the floor–the sound splitting through his skull like a blade. His hands flew to the stain on his clothes.
“Damn it,” Lucifer muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with frustration. But that frustration quickly morphed into panic.
Lucifer froze.
His heart raced, his chest was tightening, his breathing grew shallow, and the room was closing in on him. His clothes felt suffocating, his skin crawling beneath the fabric.
Pull it off pull it off pull it off it feels wrong get it off–
Alastor, ever the optimist, tried to keep things light. “Oh, Lucifer, darling, it’s just a little spill! Let me clean that up for you—no need to fret,” he said, his voice cheerful and calm, trying to soothe his partner with exaggerated gentleness. He gestured as if it were all part of the grand show, though there was an undercurrent of genuine concern beneath the theatrics.
But it was too late. Lucifer’s body was already reacting to the overstimulation, the flood of sensations pushing him into the depths of his distress. He tried to hold it together, tried to push through it, but it was impossible. His body was–wrong- shaking. His hands twitched violently at his sides.
The morning with his loud alarm clock startling him from a peaceful sleep, the new guests wanting to chat with him all day, the flickering bulb on the hotel’s sign that he had to fix, the loud laughter of the residents at Alastor’s jokes, the constant touches and handshakes as he had to greet the new guests, the quick tapping of Angel’s heels as he led tours throughout the hotel, the constant interruptions as he tried to answer questions or have a moment to himself in a corner, the way he felt like he couldn’t eat any of his safe foods tonight because Alastor had taken a long time to cook the meal and he didn’t want to be rude to his partner by telling him he’d rather not try something new today, and now his FUCKING clothes were sticking to his body that already felt on fire form the day’s events.
It was too much.
It was all too much!
His hands went to his hair, fingers curling in and tugging at it instinctively. Pull pull pull pull get it out wrong wrong all wrong pull pull pull– His face contorted, and his breathing became erratic.
Alastor’s smile faltered slightly, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer to Lucifer. “Lucifer, sweetheart, darling, let's not do that,” he said in a soft but firm tone. He reached out, gently attempting to guide Lucifer’s hands away from his hair. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself, do we, hmm?”
Alastor’s hands were suddenly on his partner’s wrists, gently pulling them away, but the touch was too much–too much–and Lucifer screamed.
The sound was raw, animalistic, ripped from his throat before he could think to stop it. He jerked backward, his whole body shaking, vision blurring as he backed himself to the wall and slid down to sit against it.
Lucifer could feel them all staring, could hear their murmurs of confusion, could vaguely make out Charlie’s concerned voice calling to him. The humiliation burned into his already prickling skin.
He tried to speak, tried to force any words out, but all that came out was a strangled groan, just a desperate fucking stuttering sound that made everything so much more humiliating and worse. He rocked forward and then back and then forward again one hand clenched into a fist on his thigh and the other found its way back in his hair. His chest was so tight–so, when he wasn’t groaning, his breathing came in sharp gasps. Wrong wrong wrong pull pull it get it off–
“Everyone,” Alastor called out, his voice carrying across the room, “Would you please give us some space?”
There was hesitation from the others, especially Charlie, but the weight of the situation and the sharpness of Alastor’s grin–left no room for a debate. They all left, leaving Alastor alone with Lucifer.
Alastor knelt beside his partner, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. He reached out again, his voice now gentle and coaxing, “Lucifer, my darling, look at me. You’re safe. I promise. Everyone is gone.”
But Lucifer didn’t respond. He simply groaned again. His eyes were shut tight, tears streaming down his cheeks as he rocked in place, his whole body shaking. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He was slipping further into the depths of this, his mind unable to process anything, his body trapped in a whirlwind of sensations.
Stop stop stop get it off stop stop stop shut up shut up shut up–
Lucifer’s body jerked again, the violent rocking continuing, his clenched fist now hitting himself as the other hand pulled his golden locks harder.
Alastor knew he had to do something to stop the damage. He reached forward once more, this time speaking louder, “Lucifer, my dear, you are far too magnificent to be treating yourself so cruelly, hmm?”
His hand gently but firmly took hold of Lucifer’s wrists, pulling them away from his hair and stopping him from hitting himself. Lucifer screamed again, but Alastor didn’t release him. Instead, he held him with all the strength and tenderness that he could offer, all the while shushing him gently, reassuringly.
Lucifer hated this.
Hated how weak he felt. Hated how his body refused to cooperate, how he felt stuck like this–just groaning and rocking back and forth–shaking. Hated how he couldn’t stop crying.
They all saw you they all saw you pull pull get it off stop crying they all saw you they all—
His stomach twisted. The panic, the overstimulation, everything had piled up–
And suddenly, he lurched forward, his body heaving violently as he threw up on the dining room floor–-adding to the mess already on his clothes.
Alastor barley flinched. He simply hummed, gently holding Lucifer’s hair back and began rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Oh, my poor dear. You really worked yourself up, didn’t you?”
When he was done, Lucifer’s body slumped, his entire body was trembling, his breathing was coming out in small gasps. He still couldn’t talk.
Talk talk talk say something say something he saw he saw they all saw get it off get it off get it off–
“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Alastor whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Alastor let go for just a moment to remove his coat revealing a soft sweater underneath. “How about we get you out of those dreadful wet clothes?”
Lucifer groaned and flinched again as Alastor reached for him, but this time the demon paused.
“Can I touch you, sweetheart?” The words were gentle. Spoken without theatrics or his usual radio filter.
Lucifer hesitated, but then gave a small, jerky nod.
Alastor worked quickly and carefully, peeling the damp fabric away and deciding to replace it with his own warm sweater. It smelled like him and would hopefully give his partner some form of comfort.
Alastor summoned another shirt for himself as well as a set of sweat pants for Lucifer making sure they were baggy enough to not restrict him at all.
After a bit more groaning and rocking, Lucifer seemed to quiet down. He curled into the oversized sweater loosely hanging on him and let out a shaky quiet breath.
Alastor smiled. Placing his hand next to Lucifer's cheek–not touching, waiting for Lucifer’s permission. Which he got, as Lucifer leaned into his touch.
Alastor cupped his partner’s face. “ There you are, my darling.”
Eventually, the storm inside Lucifer began to settle, though the remnants of his distress lingered. He was still not able to talk, still lost in the aftermath of everything, but Alastor could feel his partner’s body slowly relaxing under his touch.
With that, Alastor helped Lucifer to his feet, guiding him gently up so that he could teleport them back to his room.
Inside, Alastor led him to the bed and had him sit down before humming and turning on his heel.
Lucifer wanted to talk, wanted to ask what Alastor was doing, or say he was sorry–something---anything-– but his body…his mind…it just felt like none of it would listen to him.
You looked ridiculous today you were ridiculous made a whole scene they all saw they all saw….they all–
Suddenly, the room was quiet. Something had been placed over Lucifer’s ears. And then…
…Music…
It was music…
A soft calming piano…no…not a piano…not quite.
Lucifer’s blurred vision came into focus as he blinked and looked up and he saw it.
Alastor had summoned a…modern-ish…looking electric keyboard and his fingers were dancing across it–and– something was plugged into it. Lucifer followed the cord and slowly reached up feeling that…there were headphones. Headphones are what had been placed on his ears.
He kept his hands on them.
And he realized…
Alastor was playing solely for him. No one else right now. Not even for himself since the headphones were plugged in. Only Lucifer could hear the beautiful, calming melodies that Alastor was creating.
He let out another small shaky breath as he looked up at his partner.
Alastor met his eyes, his smile–much softer than his usual one– nor his playing faltered once.
Lucifer wanted more than ever to be able to talk. To say thank you, but again…his body and mind refused to let him…he almost worked himself back up, but Alastor simply nodded and kept playing as Lucifer closed his eyes and just listened. His breathing leveled back out and the trembling finally reached its end…give or take a few lingering tremors here and there.
But slowly Alastor’s playing to his audience of one became the only thing that mattered to either of them.
For this one moment–everything else…was quiet.