...There it is. That's the word that's been... floating uncertainly between them, after all. Alastor may not understand how or why, but far be it from him to doubt the King knows his own feelings after millennia of existence. And having felt love, and known it, in that time.

Alastor didn't answer, letting his hands rub up and down Lucifer's back instead. He couldn't answer for sure if he felt the same... he felt something. It was similar but decidedly different than how attached he'd felt to his mother. It was different than his fondness for Rosie or Mimzy, or the joy he felt in ruffling the feathers of someone like Angel or Husk. Or Charlie, sometimes.

Moments before in this very conversation, Alastor hadn't really felt averse to the idea of having a child with Lucifer. Was that love? That sort of... comfort, that Alastor wasn't used to feeling. He always figured there was certainty in knowing that if Lucifer truly wished, Alastor would just be obliterated - there's nothing Alastor could offer the King except company and madness. And Lucifer just said he loves him for that.