divinetree | Mom says it's my turn with the Alastor

"At least until I've learned all your little tricks and outplay you myself. Don't think your head start will keep you in the lead forever," Alastor teased, clapping away the blade he'd had. Squeezing some of the blood out of the fabric, he let it make a proper mess, as well as leaving a few ominous bloody hand streaks along the wall as if he were struggling to stand. Perfect.

"But, yes, it's the finest yet. I'll allow you to fluff your feathers over it, as it's deserved."

"Hoohoo, don't mind if I do~" He made a show of opening his wings and rousing, letting the feathers fluff before he shook them. Red and white plumage spread, then settled into place.

With the movement, however, small feathers fell and not just one or two. It was a few. It was enough that after a brief flash of shock across his eyes, he closed and dismissed them, and cleared his throat.

"RIGHT! So!" He clapped. "Nice blood prints, haha- let's... let's take a break, get something to drink!"

"Distracted already? My, you're incorrigible," Alastor teased, plucking up a feather off the ground before melting into shadows. He'll meet you at the bar, of course.

Thankfully, he did the spooky shadow thing. This granted Lucifer a moment to curl his claws into half-balled fists before him and snarl: "Was that REALLY the time to start a seasonal molt? A late one, at that!? In my moment of triumph!!"

He had a fit of frustrated temper by ruffling his own hair, his hat hitting the floor. After his little five-second fit, he huffed, fixed his hair, slapped his crown back on...

...Okay, one more breath...

He snapped his fingers and cooked up a portal. Cool. Calm. Collected. In his lane.

A casual step on through to go meet him at the bar, that's the ticket.

Alastor was already seated... well, not at the bar, but on it. He kicked his legs in amusement as he sipped at some of his favorite rye, having a bit of enjoyment by twirling the feather he'd plucked from the ground in his fingers.

Red on one side, white on the other. All it was missing was some blue, and twirling it would've looked a bit like a barber shop lamp. These bi-colored feathers were becoming his favorite fidget.

"The shadowy buck ruffled those feathers, hmm? Or was it the pleasure of causing me pain, Cher?"

"Huh? Wha? OH. Yeah that- that buck and his rider didn't really like me calling them cute, huh? It's a good thing feathers grow back, or I'd have to send you a s-strongly worded letter...!"

HAHA. Ha. Heehee. Hoho. He marched behind the bar to go fix himself a little bourbon, god damn it-

Hah! The King of Lies has a terrible poker face. And he's so terribly proud of those wings.

Alastor just smirked and kicked his legs in amusement, setting his drink down as he watched. Once Lucifer poured himself his bourbon, the Sinner leaned closer and ran his finger under Lucifer's chin.

"Are you plucking again? Don't torture yourself, Lucifer... that's my job~" he purred in a flirtatious tone, the radio crackle popping warmly.

He needed to take this edge off. Fortunately, this tasty little bottle's contents would do just the trick- he found he enjoyed this maker's stuff.

He rose and... momentarily forgot what it was he was concerned about with a touch beneath his chin, enough that he was slightly leaning into it by the end. Torture... torture him, please, give him sweet agony-

Lucifer sucked in a breath and stood upright, cleared his throat and raised his glass to drink. But it never touched his lips. His eyes averted.

"Er, no- no, it's... not that, I assure you. Just some..." A vague whirl of a wrist. "...Obnoxious seasonal thing I lost track of."

Now he'll drink. Let it burn.

Hmm...? Ah, hah! Recognition clicks soon enough, and Alastor laughs jovially, leaning back and looking at Lucifer upside-down.

"Molting season, then! Why, Husker has just wrapped up grousing about his wings, as well. Do I get to see your naked little chicken wings~?"

He grumbled at the words 'molting'. He was glad he didn't need to elaborate, but he hated that some things were applied to all the birds of the human world. Was it a joke to make birds itch, to suffer, humiliate them because angels had to endure such things themselves? Was it supposed to be humbling somehow?

The look he gave Alastor's upside-down face at the mention of 'naked little chicken wings'-

"My amazing, wonderful beauties are not naked little chicken wings!!"

"Not yet~"

Alastor snickered, rolling over and sliding into a seat at the bar - though he trailed his fingers down Lucifer's arm and to those slender knuckles teasingly. It was always funny to get that face all cranky and wrinkly.

"Mm, such indignities one must suffer for fresh feathers, alas. Shall we ruffle them all out? Perhaps in a soothing bath? Or a bit more play-fighting to really tussle them out? Why, I can make a whole new stuffed doll with them, since you have six molting wings!"

He sighed quietly, dusted off. "Ah, I usually just go for a couple of long soaking baths. Tussles might encourage broken blood feathers."

But he rolled his shoulders. "Eugh, and then I get shoulder aches and associated headaches and it's not a good time at all! So the path of least resistance makes me a happy guy surviving the stupid... thing. But at least my wings are a hundred times more handsome when they're done!"

"You need to eat more for it~" Alastor chuckled, leaning back over the counter and walking his fingers closer. You know you wanna hold that hand. "When I was helpin' miss Marnie with her chickens, late fall we always made sure they had plenty of protein for making new feathers. Maybe a bit of salve to soothe the skin, an extra pair of hands to ease the tension in your shoulders~"

Pampering didn't come naturally to Alastor, but with their intimate moments and his attempts to practice preening, he's gotten much more open to it. (And the other residents have consequently become targets for his mischief more often.)

"It'll be bringing in your winter coat, hoh hoh."

"You must have missed lunch, because that's two comparisons to poultry in my direction in fifteen minutes, Bambi. Get 'em out of your system."

He turned to his bourbon for a little soothing, and idly watched him walk his fingers along. The salve and an extra pair of hands did sound nice, though... and despite feeling a little bitchy at the moment- he was already itching a bit- yeah... yesfineokay he wanted to hold that hand.

"...Oh. Really? I get snack-y during a molt and I figured it was stress-eating."

"I thought you liked birds. Or maybe I'm just quackers," Alastor teased, taking his grumpy king's hand and running his thumb along those knuckles. "You're growing six wings' worth of feathers! Now, I'll just make sure to feed you right. Extra rich shrimp and grits... mmm, maybe a pot pie, it's been a minute since I delved into dough making. Pulled smoked meat with beans and rice. Blackened gar. Fried greens."

A playful little drumming of his fingers on the inside of Lucifer's wrist.

"Double to fatten you up for the winter hibernation."

Wordplay. A corner of his mouth twitched, but he smoothed it out. He never really shared anything like this with anybody, opting to stick it out himself until the process was over and have some sort of appointment to have his wings professionally groomed and prettied up.

This one just... caught him by surprise by being very late and all. The weather was weird this year. Thanks, climate change.

Those dishes all sounded really good. His touch was comforting. Lucifer's expression softened despite not looking at him, but it paused, brow quirked at the end there.

"Puh, I wish I could hibernate all winter, skip the big meeting. Anyway, if I eat all that I'm going to need to be carried everywhere until I wake from the calorie coma."

"A peking duck fattened up and set to snooze on his comfortable throne! Sounds like a winter fit for the morning star indeed," Alastor hummed in amusement.

"Not to worry, my dear. After we have a good laugh at the maze antics, I'll make sure you're properly basted in a bath."

"Thinking only with your stomach, are you? What if I wanted a little venison? Some carnitas? A steak that melts in the mouth, comfort food, huh?"

"As you wish," Alastor hummed, brushing his knuckle against Lucifer's cheek. "It'll be your days to be spoiled."

The color rose in his face and he scowled. "Of course I walked into that..."

But with a minute shake of his head, he added: "Look- I don't really talk openly about the molt. It sucks, it's the worst and I can't fly..."

"Well, of course not, you'll be missing feathers. I imagine that makes it quite challenging. But I'm no stranger to having to lock oneself in for a week or more for the sake of appearances," he agreed with a hum, going back to simply holding Lucifer's hand and sipping at his own drink again.

What an odd thing to note. A brow furrowed, he gripped his hand a little tighter. "...Wwwhat do you mean...?"

"Mmm. It may be coming up soon. I'll have to arrange for someone to manage my duties."

Sigh.

"Some years it's a rut. Some it's a heat. Either way, it is humiliating."

He waited for the laugh, the punchline. Neither happened.

"Oh."

Color him curious, though. But he cleared his throat quietly. "I'm, ah. Sorry. I can arrange coverage."

"It should be fine. Just a matter of needing to assure Charlie that nothing's wrong. Nor am I up to anything nefarious."

...

"Though perhaps it's preferable if she thinks I've slinked off to commit evil, cannibalistic deeds."

Much preferred to Charlie knowing that he's completely sexually frustrated and out of his mind for a while.

"The pains one must take to be taken seriously even when suffering through physical bodies."

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