Chapter Text
“The church choir?” Alastor asks incredulously after Lucifer shoves a brightly colored paper into his hands for him to read. His angel just nods excitedly and Alastor continues with even more disbelief, “You’re serious.”
“I’m serious,” Lucifer confirms, taking the flier back. “What do you think?”
“I think you’ve got a few screws looser than usual.”
“You’re one to talk!”
“You’re suggesting that singing in church somehow equates in some way to serial killing.”
“I’m not! I never said that!”
Alastor taps Lucifer’s nose. “You implied it.”
Lucifer scowls. “You know what I meant! You’re being purposefully obtuse.”
“You have to admit. It’s ridiculous.”
“I think it’s fair! It’s a way to give back to the community, we don’t have to change our schedule too much, it’s the least objectionable thing on my list, and you can sing—it’s perfect! Oh, don’t give me that look. We sit next to each other in church, I can hear you sing.”
“That’s not it,” Alastor says, rolling his eyes. “But a… list?”
“Of course I have a list,” Lucifer slides out a piece of paper from his pocket, waving it right underneath Alastor’s nose and taking it back before he could grab it. “The rest are going to be surprises. Trust me! It will be fine.”
Alastor shakes his head slowly. “There better not be a single activity in there that will get my clothes dirty, Lucifer.”
“Already considered,” Lucifer says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m not an amateur when it comes to you, don’t worry. I learned my lesson when I accidentally spilled paint on your dress pants.”
“Those dress pants are expensive.”
“And I know magic, so,” Lucifer grins, leans over, and affectionately pats Alastor’s cheek. “All is well.”
(All is most definitely not well with Alastor’s first choir practice at church to everyone but Alastor, who is inordinately proud of the tangible fear that flashed on the choirmaster’s face.)
“You got us kicked out of church! How is that even possible?!”
“You’d be surprised about how easy it is to get kicked out for a day or two,” Alastor replies while pulling off the choir outfit from over his everyday clothes. He opts out of his blazer and is left in only a button-down, whose sleeves he rolls up. “Although, how someone like that can work as a choirmaster is beyond me.”
“You threatened to skin him alive!”
“Well, I’m surprised no one else did it first!”
Lucifer groans, dropping his head into his hands. “How you manage to cross the threshold of a church never ceases to amaze.”
Alastor grins wide, pinching Lucifer’s cheek and drawing him out of his stupor. “I heard that,” he answers, releasing Lucifer’s face when his face starts to pinch. “What happened to redemption?”
Lucifer rubs his cheek, annoyed. “You being worthy of redemption and my bafflement that you don’t immediately burst into flames on holy ground are mutually exclusive statements.”
“You know that doesn’t sound quite right,” Alastor says, his grin not dropping. “But shame. I thought you’d given up. Especially considering you’re quite literally an angel that got kicked out of—What did you say? Holy?—holy ground.”
“That was your fault!”
Alastor shrugs, unapologetic. “What can I say? He had it coming.”
Lucifer sighs, looking up to the sky as if asking for patience from God. “How will we ever show our faces next Sunday?”
“By showing up, of course! Now what’s next on your list?”
“Volunteering at an orphanage!” Lucifer announces as Alastor stops the car in front of a large building that is approximately double the size of their three story apartment complex.
“I’m turning this car around.”
Lucifer grabs Alastor’s hand before he could reach for the gearshift and whines. “Come on! I already promised them we’d show!”
Alastor raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “You shouldn’t have promised them anything.”
“It’s only for an afternoon and some dinner!”
“You know I terrify kids!”
“I’ll be there! I can handle most of the kids.”
“I’m still turning this car around.”
“Think of the children!”
“I am! In case you’ve forgotten, I am a serial killer.”
“Like I can forget that. Regardless, it’s not like you were out hunting down children!”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” Lucifer says with a roll of his eyes. “Come on, Al! It’s only until dinner.”
Alastor stares at Lucifer for a beat longer, feeling his resolve crumble, until he finally sighs, pulls the keys out of his car, and opens the door. “Only until dinner,” he accedes, ignoring the way Lucifer smirks smugly.
“Yes, thank you!” Lucifer cheers, slamming the car door behind him and running up to match Alastor’s pace as they approach the large, overbearing double doors. “I promise. This will be much better than the choir.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
Lucifer lifts his hand and knocks on the door. It only takes a moment before an elderly woman in dark robes answers, smiling kindly at them both. There’s a gaggle of other similarly dressed older women behind her, all with their hands clasped in front of them and saintly smiles spread over their faces.
“Are you the new volunteers for this afternoon?”
Lucifer smiles kindly and says, “We are. I’m Lucifer and this is Alastor.”
“I’m the head of this monastery, Sister Agnes, but most of the nuns simply refer to me as Mother Superior,” she opens the door wider and holds her hand out in a gesture to let them inside. “Please. Come in. I will introduce you to the children.”
Lucifer steps forward quickly. “Don’t mind if we do,” he says with an excited smile. Alastor isn’t nearly as enthusiastic, however, and merely follows his angel’s lead, hands folded behind his back as he walks stiffly behind him. “Is there anything important we need to know?”
Mother Superior hums as she leads away past rich wooden archways and aged cobblestone under a velvety rug. While the abbey is obviously old, it isn’t rundown. Alastor notes that it’s very lovingly well-kept by the nuns. “There are many children—over a hundred—currently residing within the abbey walls. We have other volunteers that either regularly help out or have contacted us beforehand about helping out, just like you two. There are some in the abbey now.”
“Over a hundred?” Alastor asks incredulously, and looking at Mother Superior then at his sheepish angel’s face dubiously. “We have to help with over a hundred children?”
“Well, ever since ‘29, there has been a sudden increase in orphans—”
Alastor can’t help but snicker, but Lucifer quickly steps on his foot, causing him to yelp. Mother Superior looks at them both with a stern, disapproving look. Lucifer clears his throat and answers for them both. “He’s a work in progress, Sister Agnes. We’re working on tact.”
At the word ‘tact’, Lucifer sends Alastor a look worse than Sister Agnes’, which he’s sure Lucifer learned after spending one day per week for years with his mother. Alastor nods stiffly before upping the charm on his smile and expressing his deepest regrets. “Yes, Sister Agnes. I am most apologetic about the unfortunate timing of my laughter.”
“Right. Please keep the… unfortunateness… to yourself next time,” Mother Superior says, voice dry and unconvinced, and turns away to continue her tour around the abbey.
When she turns around, Lucifer spares no time to slap a hand over his mouth to smother the giggle before it comes out, gripping Alastor’s arm with his other to try and keep upright. Alastor rolls his eyes. What a hypocrite. Although, he supposes, Lucifer is most likely not laughing at the thought of orphans, unlike him. A man can dream, though.
Eventually they reach a double door made of thick wood and framed by a wonderful stone archway. It’s not enough to dull the sound of screaming and laughing on the other side as more than a hundred children are let loose to play for the afternoon. When Mother Superior opens the doors, however, it is worse than Alastor could have even imagined. There were children at every corner of the large room, running and tripping over each other, with toys strewn across the floor. Some of the kids were much older than others and had formed a small group by the corner, little faces already grim and despondent, but much of the space was occupied by little children, none of whom were past the age of eleven.
Lucifer smiles encouragingly up at him, but Alastor returns that smile with a grimace of his own. “Only until dinner,” he whispers so that only Lucifer could hear him.
His angel nods. “Only until dinner.”
Dinner couldn’t come fast enough, Alastor thinks to himself as he leans on the wall closest to the small group of older children. Lucifer placed him there not too long ago, already sure that Alastor wouldn’t be able to handle anybody younger than perhaps twelve. His angel is now surrounded by a group of small children playing a game that Alastor learned growing up on the sidelines, but he never really had many friends to play the game with.
If there is anything that this trip is teaching him, it’s that Alastor’s childhood was immensely different from this. Not because he isn’t an orphan, but because he never grew up in an environment like this, surrounded by children his age. He didn’t have siblings growing up, his mom was constantly working, and his only constant companion was his beloved pet cat who eventually ran away once he grew older. Alastor supposes it was just him never figuring out how to talk to other kids and always getting into fights, but he eventually learned to adapt to become the man he is today.
“Hey,” a girl, maybe twelve or so years old, approaches with a smile as she breaks away from the older kids’ group. “Are you one of today’s volunteers?”
“It would appear so,” Alastor says, smiling wide at her, and it must unnerve her enough that she begins to look unsure. “Why?”
“Well, your friend,” she glances behind herself at Lucifer. “Says that you’re actually famous. Obviously, we wanted to make sure he wasn’t pulling our leg, so are ya?”
“Certainly. Ever listen to the radio?”
“‘Course. Who doesn’t?” She stares at him for a long moment and, as if that little tidbit finally helped slot something into place, says, “You’re Alastor?”
“Indeed I am. Why? Have any questions for me?”
The little girl grins, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the group of older kids. Alastor immediately stiffens as he’s grabbed and placed into a spot near the center and made to sit on the floor. She tells them who he is and they’re immediately interested in him.
“Is that your real voice?” A brunette little boy with glasses asks.
Another kid, looking particularly interested, raises her hand. “How do you become a radio host? Do you get rich from your job?”
“Isn’t it boring sitting in a box all day?” A more dour looking dark haired teenager butts in, raising an eyebrow in judgment.
“Are you and that pretty man close?” That same little girl from earlier asks with a wide knowing grin.
Alastor clears his throat and plasters on a practiced smile. “Yes, auditions, depends on how good you are, not to me, and yes. That pretty man and I are very close.”
The kids oohed, eyes sparkling with interest. Alastor ends up having to entertain their queries for the rest of the afternoon, surrounded by older children eager to learn about him and his job.
Alastor tries to keep his irritation in check when they do something unseemly or talk too loudly, knowing that Lucifer was a few paces away. A few children were actually enjoyable to talk to (sweeter and more mature than the others, like that first little girl that had grabbed him), but others were obviously teenagers that didn’t really listen to their betters. Those were the ones Alastor didn’t particularly like.
By the end, he doesn’t notice that the sun is beginning to set and the day is ending until Lucifer comes up behind him. “Hey,” he says before running a hand through his hair so that Alastor looks up. Lucifer is smiling, eyes flickering from his face to the kids surrounding him. “Having fun?”
“Is it dinner time already?”
“Soon. Sister Agnes asked me to go around and let the kids know.” While Lucifer says this, he’s looking at the children with an expectant look in his eyes. The kids start standing, immediately interested in the prospect of food.
Once the kids have all left, Alastor asks, “So, are we leaving now?”
“After we eat, then yes,” Lucifer confirms then offers his hand to help him up.
Alastor hums, taking his hand and standing up. He stretches a little. Ah, he isn’t as young as he used to be. A few hours on the hard floor and talking to children is something awful on his back. “Splendid.”
They moved to follow the last of the children out the door with Mother Superior who had been watching the volunteers entertain the children, when a nun enters with a few volunteers behind her.
“Mother Superior,” she catches her breath, eyes wide and fingers clasp tightly together. “We have a problem. It appears some rats came in this afternoon when one of the other volunteers left the door open, and most of the meat and vegetables had been ruined! We won’t have enough to feed the children, much less us and the volunteers!”
Mother Superior’s old face wrinkles further as she turns an apologetic grimace at him and Lucifer. “It appears something unfortunate happened,” she says, shaking her head. “I know we promised you a meal, but it appears we won’t be able to accommodate you today.”
Alastor sighs, relieved at being able to leave early from such an inane outing, but Lucifer is frowning, displeased. “What about the children?” Lucifer asks, quickly looking at where the kids are gathered. “You said there won’t be enough to feed all of them.”
“We will have to portion the sizes for the children and the nuns won’t be able to eat for a while, but we’ll make do.”
Lucifer isn’t comforted by Mother Superior’s words. If anything, he just appears more determined than he was before. Lucifer smiles up at Alastor—a devious looking thing despite the undoubtedly noble intentions—that has him immediately understanding and sighing in defeat. His angel takes Alastor by the arm and says, “Wait, we can help you!”
“You need me to cook for hundreds of children!? Without any sort of preparation?”
Lucifer had the decency to look sheepish as he nods, but Alastor must look angry enough because he winces. “Don’t worry! I’ll help out!”
“With cooking?” Alastor asks, disbelievingly.
“No!” Lucifer leans forward, pulling Alastor down so he can whisper, “Have you ever heard of the biblical story with the five loaves and two fish?”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m completely serious. It’s a big and flashy ask so I’ll be getting flack from upstairs after this, but when don’t I?”
Alastor shakes his head. “Of course you’re Heaven’s problem child. Why am I not surprised?”
An odd look flits across Lucifer’s face for a moment, but he quickly moves away and says, “Just work your magic, Al! I’ll handle the rest.”
So he follows his angel’s instructions and begins cooking. The ingredients left behind were barely enough to cover the usual serving size he makes at home for him and Lucifer, and he doubts that it would cover the hungry children kicking their feet outside waiting. However, despite his doubts, he trusts that Lucifer will pull something off. If he didn’t trust in that, Alastor wouldn’t be blindly following and cooking as much food as he could salvage from the leftover ingredients.
Lucifer reenters just as Alastor finishes cooking, with a small group of nuns and helpers in the orphanage trailing after him. “Are you done? Is it time to serve the kids?”
One of the nuns moves to the stove, looking at the amount of food Alastor was able to make, and declares, her tone solemn, “This won’t be enough to serve five, much less all of them.”
“How do you expect this to be enough? We can’t let those kids go hungry.”
“Just serve them how you normally would,” Lucifer says, taking bowls and trays and handing them to the other volunteers. “This is a monastery. Maybe God is watching.”
“Real subtle,” Alastor mumbles into his ear from over his shoulder.
Lucifer rolls his eyes and places a bowl in his hands. “Oh, hush. Start plating, please.”
It surprises no one that the nuns and other volunteers were dubious, and it shows in the way they were unhappily grumbling. However, they follow the instructions because there’s nothing else any of them can do about it. They hit the estimated five servings from the amount of food Alastor made, but when they look at the pot, it was as if they never took any servings at all. Everyone gapes into the pot. One of the nuns, just to be sure, takes another bowl and fills it up with another serving, but the food remains at stubbornly the same level.
“Lord Almighty,” she breathes. “We have been blessed! It’s a miracle!”
“It’s just like in the Bible,” another nun whispers.
“How did this happen?”
Alastor glances at Lucifer, but he’s busy taking out filled bowls, the increasing sound of happy children filtering in every time the door swings open. He wonders while filling up another bowl what else his angel can really do. He’s lived with him for years now and has seen Lucifer use magic to get them out of doing the most menial housework, survive multiple stab wounds, and even make objects disappear and reappear with a snap of his fingers.
Alastor had never seen him do something so large-scale before, and it’s incredible. He wonders about other biblical stories he grew up learning—turning water into wine, healing the sick, or even raising the dead—and thinks about whether Lucifer is capable of something like that. He probably is considering the single pot of food that can feed hundreds of children. Maybe more if the nuns are already excitedly talking about giving the rest of the food away to the nearby neighborhoods still struggling ever since the stock market crash.
They finally reach the end of the pot once all the children and other volunteers have been satiated, a few trucks have been loaded up with several trays of food to be given out after dinner, and a spare few stored away to be served for tomorrow’s breakfast. Every single face in that monastery is smiling, either because of their full bellies or because of the miracle that had just occurred. Either way, the energy in the whole place is eclectic as life is quickly brought back into what was once such a dreary place.
Lucifer stops to stand next to him, there’s a smaller child in his arms—a blond girl around two years old—and says with a soft smile, “I told you. Much better than the choir.”
“I’ll admit. The nuns were a lot nicer than that choirmaster.”
“That’s just your hate for men talking,” Lucifer says, laughing, and the little girl in his arms plants her hand onto the center of his face. In a show of dexterity, he expertly shifts her weight into one arm and takes her hand gently from his face with his other.
“Is that why you decided to bring us to a monastery?”
“Guilty. Although, it’s also because I like kids.”
Alastor rolls his eyes. “Of course you do. You’re very good with them.”
Lucifer hums, letting the little girl grip his finger as she giggles. “They’re a lot easier when they’re this little.”
Alastor pulls a face. “I highly doubt that.”
“You’d say that. All that spit, the excrement, the crying,” Lucifer laughs. “Although, maybe you’d do better with an older kid. Like a mentor.”
“I’d do better with an adult. Today just proves it.”
Lucifer looks at him with an indecipherable look then back down at the little girl in his arms. “I suppose you would,” he says, a smile on his face.
Unsure of what to say to that, Alastor simply sighs. “Let’s get on home already before you somehow start a cult following.” He glances to the nuns in the side, gushing to each other excitedly. “Again.”
